Ravenwood

by Nathan Lowell

  Chapter 10

  A Wing and a Prayer

  Frank knocked on the door. “You ladies ok in there?”

  Tanyth opened to look up at him. “So far so good, but do you think they’re gone?”

  Frank shook his head. “I doubt it. They rode off making a lot of noise, but it died out awful fast. That one guy was counting houses and kept looking to see who else was around.”

  Tanyth sighed. “That’s what I thought, too.” She pointed to the men heading back to the quarry. “Why’re they leaving?”

  Frank scrubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “Because they don’t believe there’s any danger and William’s not here to tell ’em to stop work for the day.”

  “What?” Tanyth was shocked.

  Frank just shrugged.

  Amber roused herself and climbed the short steps out the door. “Lemme try to talk to them.” She scampered across the grass and shouted to get the men’s attention. They stopped and waited for her to catch up.

  They talked for a few moments but the burly foreman just shrugged and pointed at the sun with his thumb.

  “They don’t think there’s a problem, do they.” Tanyth said.

  Amber waved her hands in the direction of the Pike and Tanyth could hear her voice, even if she couldn’t make out the words.

  “They didn’t see it. So they don’t know. First time we’ve had this kind of problem here, so I don’t know that I blame them.”

  She looked up at him. “You think they’ll be back, don’t you?”

  He shrugged. “Yes, mum. I truly do.”

  “What do we do?”

  Frank scrubbed the back of his neck again. “Well, the plan was for the women and children to take to the woods and hide. Ain’t nothin’ in the houses or barns worth losing a person over.”

  “How long d’ya think before they come back?”

  Frank turned to look at the Pike and then glanced up at the sun. “I’d give ’em about an hour to let things calm down here and then they’ll come back fast.”

  “Think they’ll knock on the front door next time?”

  Frank shook his head. “Depends on what they think is here.”

  Most of the quarrymen looked on in amusement as Amber continued her argument with Jakey. Jakey, for his part, merely stood his ground and shook his head, a truculent frown on his face.

  “Do they know about the team do you think?”

  Frank sighed. “If they don’t, they’ll find it soon as they look in the barn.”

  “What else is valuable here?”

  “Food. Tools. Shelter.” Frank ticked them off. “This would make a handy bandit camp.”

  “Rather exposed for a bandit camp, isn’t it?”

  “Depends on where they do their banditin’.” Frank paused. “But prob’ly so.”

  Amber lost her argument with the quarry men, and Jakey waved his crew back up the trail to the quarry.

  Frank spit neatly in the grass beside the house.

  Amber returned, fury written on her face in scarlet hues. “They said we should all just calm down and stop seeing boggles under the beds.” She turned to Frank. “Can you get the horses and take them up to the quarry? I’ll round up whoever’s left here and we’ll all go up there, too. If they follow us up, then at least those lunk heads won’t be able to argue about the threat.”

  Frank nodded and headed for the barn at a brisk walk.

  Amber turned to Tanyth. “Can you help me gather everybody up, mum? You knock on the doors on that side? I’ll get these. Have everybody meet up a the lane to the quarry and we’ll scoot.”

  Tanyth nodded and started around. There weren’t that many houses and in a matter of a few minutes the women and children were heading up the path following Frank and the horses. Tanyth and Amber stood at the end of the lane, watching the small party heading up into the woods, Amber counting them off as they went.

  “That’s all of them.” She spoke quietly. “’Cept for Thomas and William.”

  Neither woman speculated on where the two men might be. Thomas was off in the forest somewhere tending his snares and hunting small game to augment the village larder. They both knew that William chopped wood somewhere in the forest just off the Pike where the men-at-arms might come across him. Neither of them wanted to think too much about that.

  As the noise of the women and children receded into the forest, Amber turned to Tanyth. “Do you remember the other morning, mum? You said a prayer to the All-Mother?” She spoke softly, tentatively.

  “Yes. I remember.”

  “Do you think you could say one now? Askin’ for her protection here?”

  Tanyth cocked her head to one side. “Do you really think it’ll help?”

  Amber sighed. “I don’t know, mum, but it can’t hurt.”

  The pleading in her eyes was more than Tanyth could bear. “I’m not a witch, my dear. I’ve no special powers, you know.”

  “That’s as might be, mum. But there was something in the air the other morning. Maybe it was just a storm comin’ but maybe there’s somthin’ out there listenin’ and it heard you.” She paused, a worried frown on her face. “I’m not too proud to ask for help right now.”

  Tanyth smiled. “Me, either.” She nodded up the trail. “Go up there a ways and give me some room to think.”

  Amber scampered a few yards up the track and took shelter on the verge, leaving Tanyth standing in the path where it emptied into the back of the village.

  Tanyth planted the heel of her staff and leaned on it. She closed her eyes to focus on the area around her–the earth, the sky, the fire of the sun, and the water coursing in the hidden rivers in the ground. A sense of calm filled her and the strength of the earth itself seemed to flow up the length of her body, through the soles of her boots and along the path of her staff.

  She opened her eyes and raised her arms as she had the day before, facing the north she started with the earth. “I call upon the Guardian of the North, Keeper of Earth, Bones of the World to guard this passage against those who wish us harm and ask that they do not pass.” She turned to face out over the village, arms upraised and the heat of her belly pulsed in time with her heart. “I call upon the Guardian of the East, Keeper of the Air, Breath of the World to guard this passage against those who wish us harm and ask that they do not pass.” She turned to face the woods to the south. “I call upon the Guardian of the South, Keeper of Fire, Life of the World to guard this passage against those who wish us harm and ask that they do not pass.” With each repetition, while her voice was no stronger, it seemed to echo louder in the air around her. She turned to the west, looking up the path and repeated one last time. “I call upon the Guardian of the West, Keeper of Water, Blood of the World to guard this passage against those who would do us harm and ask that they do not pass.” She competed the circle by facing north once more. “I ask in the name of the All-Mother. I ask in the name of the All-Father. Guard us from our enemies. They will not pass.” She stabbed her staff into the ground and leaned on it as the emotions washed through her and left her weakened, all but panting in exertion.

  “Very pretty, mum. Very pretty, indeed.” The man’s voice came from the direction of the village and the leader stepped around the corner of the nearest hut. He clapped his gloved hands in mocking applause. “But do you really think your earthy mumbo jumbo will have any sway over us?”

  He held his hands out in a practiced gesture and the three bully boys followed him out into the clearing at the end of the path.

  Tanyth whirled at the sound of his voice and stood there praying that Amber had the sense to run. The world around her took on an unnatural clarity and somewhere inside her, the anger welled up. “There is nothing for you here.” She said it quietly but the words echoed in her and fairly crackled in the air around her.

  “Ah, but there you’re wrong, Mother, for there surely is a garden to be plowed and seeds to be planted.” He leered with a suggestive roll of his hips and his men chuckle
d at his not so veiled threats.

  “No.” The word snapped in the air, a blow to the heart, a stone in the path.

  The leader laughed easily and motioned one of the thugs forward while he crossed his arms on his chest and lounged against the logs of the hut, as if it were the wall of his favorite tavern. “Don’t be foolish, mum. Surely, you don’t think one small woman can stop even one of my men?”

  The anger and pain of losing her son. The anger and pain of having her husband beat and humiliate her for years before she escaped and dedicated her life to the road. The anger and pain inflicted by all the men who’d accosted her, badgered her, assaulted her on the road. All that anger and pain rose in her in that one moment.

  She focused on the approaching bravo and spit at him. “No.”

  He chuckled and, in what he might have thought was a subtle move, lunged for her, arms outstretched as if to sweep her up in a bear hug.

  Tanyth stepped into the attack, pivoting her staff downward with the iron-bound heel grounded in the soil. The gnarled knot at the top speared the man in his chest with a meaty thump, his momentum doing the work and the force of his attack rebounding on him. He knocked himself backwards and landed flat on his back at her feet with a surprised grunt. His face turned red as he tried to pull air back into his bruised lungs.

  “No.” She said it quietly, but still it echoed in the air even over the downed man’s wheezing grunts for breath.

  The leader’s face mottled in his rage. “You bitch!” He motioned his remaining two companions forward. “Take her. I want her alive. For now.” His eyes fairly bulged in his head from his pent up anger and frustration. “Nobody makes a fool of me. Particularly not a feeble old lady with a stick!”

  The two men drew swords and spread out to give each other room to swing. Their faces held murder and worse but Tanyth scowled at them. “No!” Once more, her voice carried to the forest and seemed to echo among the boles of the trees.

  The two boyos glanced at each other and chuckled uneasily. They moved in smoothly and slowly, separating even more as they closed on the woman in their path.

  “No.” She hissed the word with every fiber of her being.

  “Come on, mum.” The one on her left spoke gently as if to a spooked horse. “You don’t wanna hurt us, and we sure don’t wanna hurt you. Why don’t you just put down the stick and we’ll all go talk to the boss nice and calm like, yeah?”

  Tanyth glared. “No!” The word lashed out at the two men, even as they lunged forward together, clubbing at her with the flats of their swords. She dodged backwards and swung the foot of her staff in a short, vicious arc with a chopping upward motion.

  The man on the left dodged what he believed was a blow to his face, but the iron caught him where his fingers wrapped his sword’s hilt. The blade flew from his hand as two of his fingers shattered and the reversing blow swung the knobbed end of the staff into his face, smashing his nose. He screamed in pain, and dropping to his knees beside the first man, cradled his injured hand to his chest while blood streamed down his face and onto his tunic. The sudden movements–and the sword spinning through the air–made the second attacker flinch backward, his attack halted by the unexpected response.

  The leader growled at them. “For gods’ sakes, Mort, it’s one old woman! What are you–”

  A sound like a humming bird snaked over Tanyth and a flash caught her eye even as the man’s voice chopped off in mid-sentence at the sound of a heavy wooden thunk.

  Tanyth spared a glance at the leader and saw him staring at the shaft of an arrow sunk into the wood of the hut less than a hand’s breadth from his head. It still quivered from the force of its flight.

  Behind her, Tanyth heard Thomas’s quiet voice. “No.”

  The remaining attacker looked over Tanyth’s shoulder and lowered his sword, arms outstretched in a gesture of surrender as he slowly backed away.

  Tanyth glanced over her shoulder to see Thomas standing in the path, bow drawn to his ear, wicked edges of a hunting broadhead gleaming in the afternoon sun. She turned back to face the attackers. “No.” She said it quietly this time but the word was final, inevitable as the rumble of thunder that follows lightning’s flash.

  The leader’s face had drained of color as he realize how close to death he stood. He turned to glare at them. “Mort, Reg! Get up. Let’s get out of here.” He growled the words even as he backed around the corner of the hut, putting the heavy protection of the wood between the bowman and himself.

  The two injured men scrambled backwards, eventually getting to their feet and backing away, the uninjured one nervously covering their retreat and obviously anxious to move out.

  They disappeared around the corner of the hut. In a moment, the sounds of horses trotting away came from the direction of the Pike. Only when the echoes had died away into the distance, the quiet susurration of wind in the trees filling the air, did Tanyth relax her vigilant stance and ground her staff in the moist soil once more. She heard Thomas’s light step and turned to thank him with a smile.

  “Are you alright, mum? They didn’t get to you did they?”

  “I’m fine, Thomas. Thank you.” In spite of her protestations to the contrary, her voice quavered a little and she had to lean on the staff more heavily than she might have preferred, just to hold herself up.

  “D’ya think they’ll be back, mum?”

  She considered it for a moment. “I hope not, Thomas. I hope they’ll keep riding and look for some easier pickings.” She looked at him. “And they’ll have to heal a bit before they take on too much. Hard to swing a sword with broken fingers.”

  Thomas grinned and reached down into the weeds at the edge of the track. He pulled up the man’s dropped sword. “Harder still when you don’t have it, mum.”

  She smiled. “There’s that as well.”

  They stood and listened for another moment. Deep in the forest the cawing of a raven echoed and Tanyth gave silent thanks to the All-Mother for her protection before heading for her hut. She felt the need for a cup of tea and perhaps a short sit down.

  "Mum?" Thomas’s voice stopped her.

  She stopped and turned back to him, leaning heavily on the staff to keep herself upright.

  "That was pretty fancy staff work, mum." He crossed to the hut and retrieved his arrow. "You bash people a lot on the road?" A smile made the question part jest, but dark eyes underscored his seriousness.

  Tanyth sighed and looked at her feet. "Too often." She took a deep breath and looked him in the eye. "Too many men think a woman alone is helpless. Too many see it as their right to teach her the error of her ways. When I left my husband, I made a promise to myself that he’d be the last man to ever beat me." She felt weak and slightly sick.

  Thomas didn’t flinch from her gaze. "And was he, mum?"

  She snorted a laugh and shook her head. "No, but he was the last one who got away with it." She grinned fiercely at him, pulled the staff up, and twirled it once before planting the iron-shod foot back in the sod. "I’ve carried this staff, or one like it, for twenty winters. I’ve learned a thing or two about usin’ it along the way."

  Thomas nodded slowly and Tanyth felt like he weighed her words in a way that betrayed his depth. He nodded respectfully and offered an honest smile. "In the King’s Own, they taught us that no farmer with a stick was unarmed. They grow up with a hoe in their hands."

  Tanyth offered a smile of her own. "And every woman in Korlay grows up with a broom in hers." She cast an appraising look at her staff. "This one’s just lacking the bristles."

  Thomas snorted a laugh of his own at that, but he wasn’t done. "Mum? Those boyos coulda killed you."

  "They’re not the first, Thomas."

  He looked startled. "Others have tried to kill you, mum?"

  She shrugged. "Some men don’t take kindly to bein’ told no." She sighed and regarded him levelly. "I’ve been wanderin’ the byways for almost half my life, Thomas. I’m careful. I look where I’m goin�
��. I don’t take risks." She took a deep breath before going on. "That only gets ya so far. After that, it comes down to who’s got the strongest will and the fastest hands." She nodded to his bow. "Or the keenest eye."

  Thomas’s eyes wrinkled a bit at the corners as he smiled. "I’m glad you were with us today, mum. Thank you."

  She ducked her head in response. "I’m glad I could help, Thomas."

  Thomas knuckled his brow in salute and slotted the arrow back into his quiver. "I best go see how they’re doing up the hill."

  She gave a small wave and turned toward her hut. As she walked, the tension she’d carried in her torso began to ease and the knots in her belly began to uncoil. With that easing came a familiar sensation in her nethers and she grimaced with a bitter snicker as she picked up her pace. She clambered down the stairs into her cottage, latching the door behind her and pulling at the belt of her baggy trousers as she crossed to the cot where she’d earlier arranged her supplies. She slipped the strap of her gleaning bag off her shoulder and tossed it onto the bedroll so she could deal with the first rush of her monthly courses.

  “Blood calls to blood, eh, Mother?” she muttered to herself.

  Long practice saw the task dealt with readily and she was soon stirring up the coals left from her morning fire. It seemed an age since she slipped out to do some gathering in the early morning. There was still bread and cheese and she nibbled a bit of each as the water warmed over the coals. Outside she heard people beginning to move about as the families who’d sheltered at the quarry came back down to the village.

  The strength leeched out of her legs and she took her small pot to the table to let it steep while she settled onto the rough chair. She folded her arms on the surface and lay her forehead across them, fighting the urge to sleep but losing as the aftermath of the fight washed out of her, leaving her drained and emptier than she could ever remember being.

  The blackness washed over her for a moment and her eyes opened on an odd scene. Below her four men in matching livery rode hard down the packed surface of the Pike. She was looking down at them from above and periodically one or the other would look behind them as if to see what might be chasing them. Soon they were obliged to rein in their lathered mounts and let them walk. They sat stiffly in their saddles and if they spoke, she couldn’t hear anything over the rushing of the wind in her ears. The one with red lining his coat seemed to be arguing but the three men shook their heads until he gave up. Wheeling his tired horse, he spurred his mount south. The three remaining rode slowly after him.