by S H Cooper
“Ok,” Reena says. Her tone has become cautious and guarded. “Then what is your name?”
“Mary,” I reply. “Mary McThomas. And I need your help.”
Reena’s eyes have narrowed slightly and I can’t read her expression, but she nods once, inviting me to continue speaking.
Chapter Nineteen
I keep my explanation as brief as I can and speak in a hurried whisper. Reena listens with that same dubious expression the entire time I reveal who I am and how I came to be in Gladfife. Whenever someone swims nearby, I fall silent and we scrub at our arms and drag our fingers through our hair to look like we’re bathing.
“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” Reena asks.
She’s gone to one of the rocks and is pulling flowering moss from it. She mixes it with water and mud before grinding it into a paste with a small stone.
“Why would I lie?” I shoot back.
“To get back to the city sooner? I don’t know!”
Reena beckons me to sit in front of her.
“Why?” I stay in place, head drawn back suspiciously, and she holds up her cupped hands, filled with the brown paste.
“To wash your hair, you skittish bird,” she says. “We’re here, we might as well.”
I cross over to her and kneel with my back to her. The stream’s surface laps at my chin while Reena’s fingers work the paste, which has an earthy scent, roughly through my hair. I wince under her touch and she huffs.
“Ach, don’t be such a delicate flower!” she scolds.
I scrunch my face up in pained displeasure, but try to remain still.
“You don’t think the fae fooled you, do you?” she asks. “Sent you on but kept your brothers back for who knows what?”
“No. The Halofain was kind and Torren is my friend. They wouldn’t have.”
“What if they aren’t in Gladfife yet? You can’t go back by yourself with that lot looking for you like they were.”
“I’ll hide somewhere, then! Whatever it takes. I have to do this, Reena. My father’s life depends on it.”
She rests both hands on top of my head, then pushes me fully under the water. My eyes bulge open, but my panicked kicking has stirred up too much mud and I can’t see. I flail my arms, slapping at the surface, and grab at air, desperate to pull myself up.
Reena lets me struggle for an excruciating moment before hooking her hands beneath my arms and pulling me up. I gasp and cough and wrench myself out of her grip to stagger to the nearest rock. I cling to it, glaring at the other lass.
“What’s all this fuss for then?” She snickers. “I was just rinsing your hair!”
“You could’ve warned me first!” I snap.
“Aye, but where’s the fun in that?” Her grin dims into a more serious expression. “Getting back to Gladfife before the three day ban is through is going to be hard.”
“I know,” I say. “But I have to try. I can go alone, I’d just need —”
Reena cuts me off with a snort. “I’ve seen you get sick just from riding in a cart. You really think I trust that you’d make it all the way back to Gladfife on your own?”
“I could try!”
“Aye, you could,” Reena agrees, quickly working some of the left-over paste into her own hair. “You’d get as far the road, trip over your skirts, and scrape your knee before crawling back.”
My brows knit into a hurt scowl. “I would not!”
“Maybe not, maybe so. Either way, you wouldn’t get far is my point. You got no experience being out in the world on your own, Kit — Mary. Sending you out there would be akin to letting you walk into a wolf’s open mouth.”
I curl my fingers against the rock and turn away from her. I’m tired of everyone doubting me! I’m stronger than they think, I know I am. It’s just that no one’s giving me a chance to prove it. I had thought Reena might be different. She’s a lass as well and capable as any lad. I could be, too.
At least, I think I could be.
A wave of water washes up against my back.
“Don’t pout,” she says, splashing me again. “The truth is what it is. Painful, aye, but that doesn’t change it.”
“I’m not pouting,” I reply sullenly.
“Let’s make a deal, country finch.” Reena swims over to me. “Stay another day. Let me show you a few more things. If nothing else, I can teach you how to hold a real weapon and swing it so it’ll hurt. It won’t be near enough training, but I’ll feel better about being on the road with you if you can do that much.”
“You’ll go with me? Back to Gladfife?”
She smirks and waves a hand dismissively. “It’s been a while since I’ve been in any real trouble around here. I’m due for causing some upset.”
I launch myself at her and wrap my arms tight around her neck. She pats the top of my head in short, embarrassed strokes.
“Alright, alright, peel yourself off me, bird, that’s enough of that.”
I let her go, smiling widely. “When do we leave?”
“Tomorrow night, after I get you as ready as I can. And the hunt.”
“The hunt?”
“It’s my turn,” she says, dipping her head back to wash the paste from her hair. “I don’t mind causing upset, but to miss a hunt would mean my hide. It’ll have to be after.”
“Fine.” I agree with a sharp nod. “Tomorrow night then. Until then, what do we have to do first?”
“Let’s pay a visit to the armory. We need to find you something you won’t accidentally kill yourself with.” She pauses, lips pressed into a thoughtful line, and stares at me with her head cocked slightly. “How do you feel about hammers?”
I’ve seen war hammers before. They’re heavy weapons, with large heads made from iron and steel. Few of Father’s men use them, given the strength required to swing them. What Reena shows me after we dress and sneak to the armory is not a war hammer.
I hold up the tool she’s passed to me and look quizzically past it to Reena. “What am I supposed to do with this?”
“Well,” she says with patronizing slowness. “You take this bit here, that’s called the handle. Can you say it with me? Han-dell. And then you swing it so that the metal part hits your target!”
“Reena.” I give the hammer a warning shake in her direction. It’s better suited for a blacksmith than a fighter.
“Well I can’t very well set you loose with something sharp, can I,” she replies, crossing her arms. “You’d end up hurting yourself, or worse, me.”
“I thought you were going to teach me.”
“We’ve only got a day! I’m no bloody wizard. With this, you’ll have a solid tool for defense and I won’t have to worry about any accidental backstabbing. We both win.”
As much as I want to, I can’t really argue with her logic. I heft the hammer to get a feel for its weight and swing it in a small arc. It’s no sword, but I think I’ll be able to make it work.
“There’s not much to hammering,” she says, taking it from me. “You pick a point, you swing at it. Heads are always best, but elbows, knees, and groins are good, too. Most important thing to remember is to put your whole weight behind it and make sure you mean it.”
Reena demonstrates by gripping the hammer in both hands and bringing it down as hard as she can against a nearby shield. It reverberates off of the surface, leaving a small dent in its wake.
“And never hit just once.” She swings again with a grunt. “Once they’re down, you make sure they stay there.”
She tosses the hammer back to me and I fumble to catch it against my chest.
“I’ll leave you with the logs while I finish my chores,” she says. “Practice until your body hurts, then keep going for a bit. You want to be a knight, you gotta work on those little lady arms.”
She leaves me beside a woodpile where logs have been left standing upright. Their bark is marred and torn from abuse. Chunks of wood and broken bits litter the ground around them. Even though I’m alone at
the moment, I still feel self-conscious, standing there with my small smithy hammer.
“It’s no different than the squires and their straw dummies,” I mutter to myself.
I test the hammer’s head by tapping it against the top of the nearest log. When nothing happens, I give it a firmer knock. The wood remains unblemished by my weapon. Growing more comfortable with every tap, I curl my fingers more tightly around the hammer and bring it down with more force.
A small indent appears on the log’s surface.
Seeing it brings me the same flash of pride I’d gotten from seeing the ripped sack. It’s proof I can do more than just wield a ladle or sewing needle. I can leave a mark.
Mirroring Reena’s stance, I plant my feet wide, life the hammer over my head with both hands, and bring it down with a triumphant cry. My arms shake all the way up to my shoulders when steel meets wood. It’s an unfamiliar, tingling feeling and I grin.
Reena is right: I really could learn to like this.
I rain blow after blow down upon the log until sweat drips down my face and dampens my clothes all over again. I pant with every swing. The fiery ache that crisscrosses my shoulders and sweeps down into my arms is getting harder to ignore, until I can barely lift the hammer over my head.
By the time I’m finished, the log is looking far worse for wear.
“You know,” Reena says from behind me, “I wasn’t sure you’d actually be able to manage more than a couple dainty pecks.”
I turn to her, letting my arms sag at my sides. “I’m not a bird.”
“Ach, you give a girl a hammer and suddenly she thinks she’s got teeth, does she?” Reena teases, but there’s a note of pride in it. “Alright, finch, enough for today. From the looks of it, you’ve got the idea. Let’s go get some lunch.”
The throbbing in my arms doesn’t diminish much over the rest of the day. Every little task feels weighted and tiring. Reena makes no secret over the fact she’s enjoying my struggling and has me help her with the remainder of her chores after we eat. Determined not to feed in to ladylike image Reena has of me, I grit my teeth and work alongside her to wash, fold, and carry laundry, brush horses, muck their pen, and chop vegetables for that night’s supper.
Although my arms feel rubbery, like they might become detached at any moment, I enjoy the sensation. There’s an honesty to it. An earned quality that burns, bright and proud, in my chest.
“Oh, you can lay off it now, girl,” Reena says when I rise to carry my batch of freshly peeled potatoes into the cooking tent. “I get it! You can keep up after all. Now give yourself a break. You’ll be completely useless tomorrow if you keep this up.”
“After I bring these in,” I tell her.
But the basket is much heavier than I anticipated. My arms shake with the strain of trying to lift it from the ground. Reena stares pointedly at the potato she’s still peeling, lips sucked in as she tries not to giggle. I give up with a groan and sink back to the ground beside her.
“Fine,” I say. “Maybe I will take that break now.”
She snickers and tosses her potato at me. It bounces off my stomach and rolls on to the grass.
“Finish these up for me and I’ll carry yours in.”
“But you said to take a break!”
“Aye,” she agrees, plucking up my basket and setting it under one arm against her hip. “After you peel those potatoes.”
I make a show of reaching weakly for the knife I’d been using and drag it slowly down the side of the potato. Reena pauses on her way into the tent and turns to me.
“You know, you’re doing alright,” she says. “For a lady.”
I flick a peel at her and she hurries away, leaving me to hunch over the potato with a pleased grin.
Chapter Twenty
I sleep well that night in Reena’s family’s tent. I keep my hammer beside me, just outside the pile of furs. It helps to know that I will return to Gladfife tomorrow, hopefully find my brothers and Torren, and resume the search for the Dreamweavers. I can only hope I’ve not lost too much time in the Faunir settlement.
I am woken in the early hours of the morning by voices and footsteps outside the tent. Reena has already risen and tugs on her clothing in the dark.
“Come,” she whispers. “It’s time to go.”
“The hunt?” I respond groggily.
“Aye, the party is gathering. We can’t be late.”
I spend a moment rubbing some life back into my stiff shoulders and get dressed in the clothes Reena had loaned me beneath my cloak. I tuck my hammer into the rope belt and follow her outside, where a small group, including Haroheim, is gathering. They each have a bow and quiver over their shoulders, and when we join them, a set is handed off to Reena as well.
“Reena,” a severe looking woman with short cropped hair and tattoos running across the bridge of her nose, says as a greeting. When she catches sight of me stumbling along behind Reena, she holds a hand up. “What’s this?”
“She’s coming with us, Belis,” Reena replies, undaunted.
“Haven’t you heard?” another woman, this one short and smirking, asks. I recognize her from the stream the day before. “Reena got herself a pet. They’ve been nigh inseparable for two days. I figured she’d bring her along.”
“Kitty’s tougher than she looks.” Haroheim chuckles with a wink toward me. “Give her a dagger and watch her go.”
“Or a hammer, from the looks of it,” the short woman says. “Going to cobble us some shoes, little pet?”
“Leave her be, Rasha,” Reena warns.
“Enough,” Belis orders sternly. “I am the mistress of this hunt and only I may say who is allowed to go. Will your pet slow us down, Reena?”
“No,” my friend replies with confidence I’m not sure I agree with. “She’ll be fine.”
“You know we’ll leave her if she can’t keep up.”
“I said she’ll be fine.”
Reena and Belis lock eyes until Belis relents with a nod.
“Remember what I said,” she says to me. “We will not be stopping or slowing. If you fall behind, you’ll be left there.”
I make a small noise of acknowledgement while Belis stares down at me, her doubt clear.
“I heard tell of some deer over in the east wood,” Rasha says, breaking the uncomfortable silence. She offers Belis an exaggerated bow. “If the hunt mistress will allow us to investigate?”
“Aye,” Belis, unruffled, replies. “As good a place as any to start. Can your pet ride, Reena?”
My fingers play along the top of the hammer’s head and I remind myself of how I felt yesterday. Strong and capable. I square my shoulders and draw my head high like Mother.
“I can,” I say, and one corner of Belis’ lips turn upward in mild surprise. “Behind someone, but I can.”
“Fair enough. Your pet, your problem, Reena,” she says.
I hold tight to Reena’s waist as we leave the settlement on horseback. Belis allows Rasha to take the lead as she knows where the deer herd is supposed to be. Haroheim follows behind us at a more leisurely pace. I wonder if he’s staying back there in case I fall off and he needs to catch me. The conspiratorial tap of his nose that he gives me when I glance back at him just about confirms my suspicion.
The sun is rising ahead of us, outlining the forest trees we’re heading toward. The lower half of the trunks are shrouded in pale, grey mist. Rasha holds a fist up, signaling us to stop, and points ahead.
“They were spotted around there.”
“Then we dismount here and cover the rest on foot. Tie the horses off,” Belis says.
Haroheim helps me down, earning a disapproving harrumph from Belis, and the horses are tied to a stake that he kicks into the ground with the heel of his foot. They unsling their bows and loosely thread arrows across their strings.
“Walk as quietly as you can,” Reena advises me in a soft whisper.
We stalk forward, Belis in front. Rasha keeps peering around, on the
lookout for something. I haven’t seen any deer yet, but I scan the fog as well, hoping I can at least prove myself helpful in finding our quarry.
“Hold,” Belis says, an arm thrown out to stop us. “Something is —”
She stops speaking abruptly. The rest of us freeze and watch her back, waiting for her to finish her statement. Belis mutters something, it sounds like a curse, then she topples forward. Reena, Haroheim, and I run to her side, but she isn’t responding to our calls, and when Haroheim turns her over, her face has gone slack and her eyes, empty.
The bolt of a crossbow protrudes from her chest.
“She’s dead,” Haroheim has time to breathe, before four men leap up from the cover of the fog, weapons drawn.
“What have you done?” Rasha demands.
She angrily steps around us to confront the men and I fear she’s going to meet the same fate as Belis.
But they do not attack her.
“She was going to raise the alarm,” one of them says.
“So? Who would have heard? It’s not like the girl could have escaped!”
“Rasha,” Reena says, voicing the same, cold understanding that has sunk into my gut. “This is your doing?”
The other woman ignores her.
“I told you I’d have the lass and I do! No one had to die!” she shouts up at the man.
He just shrugs. “I’m only interested in the McThomas girl. You’re lucky I don’t have my men cut the rest of you down where you stand.”
“Rasha!” Haroheim bellows. “Explain yourself!”
She finally turns, scowling like we’re bothering her.
“You have no idea who that girl is,” she snaps. “Or how much she’s worth!”
My heart thuds against my chest and I look to Reena, who seems as puzzled as I am, and then to Rasha. “How do you know that?”
“I heard you in the stream yesterday. All your talk of a reward for your capture. I went to Gladfife to verify and found one of those parchments with your portrait on it. Enchanted things. I just had to write when and where to find you on the back.”
“How could you?” Reena snarls.