Daughters Of The Storm

by Kim Wilkins

  Rose watched his back for a while, then her eyes flicked to Ash. ‘Ash doesn’t make bad decisions,’ she said. ‘Ever.’

  Bluebell turned this thought over in her mind. It had truth about it.

  ‘He’s unlikely to try anything despicable as long as you’re around, Bluebell. He wouldn’t dare.’

  ‘My sword is little use against magic.’

  ‘Magic isn’t always bad.’

  Bluebell nodded. ‘I will watch him closely. As for you, stay close to Ash. Distract her from him. Be a good sister and talk girlish nonsense with her.’

  ‘Would that put your mind at rest a little?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Rose smiled. ‘Then we have done each other a favour this morning.’ Rose touched her horse’s side lightly with her foot to urge it forwards. Bluebell hung back, at the back of the retinue, never taking her eyes of Unweder, even for a moment.

  Ash woke to a light mist of rain. At first, she tried to keep sleeping, screwing her eyes shut. The rain lifted for a few minutes, but then intensified. She sat up to look for her moleskin in her pack.

  That was when she noticed Unweder, lying on his side in the rain, very still, but eyes open. Looking at her.

  She frowned. At first she thought she had misread the direction of his gaze. But then he blinked slowly, and she understood he was studying her carefully. The fire was low, giving his face a faint amber flush. She didn’t want to speak and wake her sisters, who were both already under their waterproof skins. So instead, she lay back down. He kept his good eye on her. Not sexual interest, not even curiosity. Just watching her and blinking slowly.

  She wasn’t afraid of him, and understood he wasn’t afraid of her either. Not the way Yldra had been.

  She closed her eyes, wondering if he would watch her all night, while she slept.

  Sleep slipped beyond Rose’s fingers. No matter how many times she listened to Bluebell’s reassurances again in her head, the cool itch of doubt persisted. She dozed, startled herself awake, wondered how close to dawn it was, dozed again, falling into troubled dreams where something had been lost and forgotten, something as vital as blood. Light rain washed over them on its way to the sea and she woke before dawn, sticky with humidity under her moleskin cloak. She sat up, fumbling at her waist for the seeing-circle.

  The light paused a moment behind the world, holding its breath. Or perhaps Rose was holding her breath.

  Then the ice melted and shimmered and there was Rowan’s bed. Empty.

  The hot rush of fear made her joints loose. She didn’t know what to do with her hands, they seemed suddenly too big for her body. She clambered unevenly to her feet, gasping Bluebell’s name.

  Bluebell sat up, pale eyes open and hand on her sword.

  ‘Rowan’s gone,’ Rose said.

  Ash stirred as well. Unweder slept on.

  ‘She may be —’ Bluebell started.

  Fear made Rose speak too sharply. ‘No, Bluebell. No. Two mornings in a row. She’s not there. Something’s happened. I have to return to Folcenham.’

  Bluebell sighed in exasperation.

  Ash shook off her blanket and came to put her arm around Rose. ‘I think she should go.’

  ‘What could possibly have happened to her, Rose? She is in the care of her father, your husband, the king of Netelchester. We are days away from Yldra, days away from ...’ Bluebell stopped, ran her hand through her hair. ‘Very well. Go. Be with your child.’ She cast a dark glance at Ash, who kept her expression neutral.

  Rose was already gathering her things. ‘I hope you’re right, Bluebell. I hope the problem is noisy ducks. But if I stay and tomorrow morning she still isn’t in the seeing-circle, then I will have made the wrong decision. I’d be another day away from her.’ Rose’s voice caught on a hook in her throat. Please, Great Mother, protect my baby. She was gripped by a powerful longing for Rowan’s body: for her plump arms and sturdy knees, her impossibly elastic cheeks. She let out a little groan. ‘Where is she?’

  Bluebell stepped forwards, gathering Rose in her arms. Rose sagged against her sister’s sinewy body. ‘She will be well, you will see,’ Bluebell said.

  Rose straightened, brushing Bluebell’s hair out of her mouth. ‘Thank you,’ she managed. Then she was running for her horse, running home to Rowan.

  The sun was moving towards the centre of the sky when Ash asked to stop and rest. Bluebell glanced around. Wide rocky fields riven by a narrow stream that ran cold and urgent over flat brown stones. A chestnut grove on a hill close by, the green leaves fluttering in the sun. She peered at it carefully, could see no movement, so she reigned Isern in and dismounted.

  Bluebell walked, then watered Isern. She fed her dogs while Ash and Unweder ate. Bluebell wasn’t hungry, so she took a brush to Isern’s mane and tail to look busy, even though her object was to watch her two companions. They talked quietly about the weather, the horses. Bluebell could tell they were dying to speak of other things, but daren’t while she was there.

  Then Unweder said, ‘You must excuse me a few moments,’ climbed to his feet, and headed up the hill to the grove.

  Bluebell watched him then turned her attention to Ash, who was rethreading the leather lace on her right shoe.

  ‘Where’s he gone?’ she asked.

  Ash shrugged.

  Bluebell narrowed her eyes, turning her attention back to Unweder. He disappeared into the trees. She patted Isern’s flank and whistled for her dogs, who were madly snuffling in rabbit holes, then went after Unweder.

  ‘Leave him be, Bluebell,’ Ash called behind her.

  But Bluebell ignored her.

  In the shade, the temperature was a skin-shiver cooler. She couldn’t see him, but she heard him humming and followed the noise. What was he up to, sneaking off to hide among the trees? Did he intend to perform some evil magic on them? Her hand went to her hip, fingers grazing the grip of her sword lightly. He came into view, standing very still with his back to her.

  She gestured to the dogs to sit, and crept up to him slowly. Listening to his humming, growing more suspicious. She couldn’t see where his hands were: no doubt in front of him casting his spell. Just as she was about to grasp his shoulder, he sensed her approach and half-turned with a gasp.

  Bluebell stifled a laugh. Not casting a spell. Pissing.

  ‘Should I have asked permission?’ he said, turning his body away with impossible-to-conceal embarrassment.

  ‘Don’t mind me,’ she said, ‘I’ve seen men piss before.’

  ‘You frightened me,’ he said. ‘I’ve got it on my shoe now.’

  ‘A bit of piss on your shoe isn’t going to slow us down,’ she said, folding her arms. ‘I didn’t mean to frighten you. I wanted to see what you were doing.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I don’t trust you.’

  Unweder raised one eyebrow and spread his palms languidly. His good eye met her gaze; his bad eye looked off into the distance. ‘I don’t care.’

  ‘If you fuck with my sister, I’ll cut you to pieces.’

  ‘I intend no harm to Ash. She has a rare talent and I only want to help her.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because she needs my help.’

  ‘That’s not what undermagicians do. Undermagicians only care about themselves. They don’t make friends, they live as far from each other as possible.’

  ‘It isn’t always true.’

  ‘Enough people believe it to be true.’

  ‘Enough people believe women can’t be warriors or kings. Does that make it true?’

  She didn’t answer, choosing instead to stare at him and see if he would squirm.

  ‘You should ask Ash about the dream,’ he said.

  ‘What dream?’

  ‘Her dream. Ask her about it. And perhaps ask her why she hasn’t told you.’

  ‘She tells me everything,’ Bluebell said, madly trying to remember if Ash had mentioned a dream recently.

  Unweder lifted a shoulder.
‘Then I suppose you needn’t ask her.’ He smoothed down the front of his tunic. ‘We should be moving on. There’s an inn off the road about two hours from here. My destination and yours aren’t far now.’ He moved away, through the trees, while Bluebell watched him with a churning gut. He was slippery. In her world, she knew where things were, and they either stood still or moved slowly. But he slid about like an eel between rocks. And she didn’t like it. She called her dogs and went back down the hill.

  Later that afternoon, with Unweder far enough ahead of them to be out of earshot, Bluebell pulled her horse up close beside Ash’s and said, ‘Unweder said to ask you about the dream.’

  Ash’s eyebrows shot up. ‘He did?’

  ‘What dream does he mean?’

  ‘I haven’t spoken to him about any dreams.’ Ash was being evasive, and Bluebell could tell.

  ‘Is there something important you’re not telling me?’ Bluebell said, trying not to sound threatening but suspecting she would fail. She had never acquired that cloak of nicety that padded conversation.

  ‘I ...’

  Bluebell saw Unweder turn his head, glance over his shoulder at them, then turn away. Was that a smug smile on his face? Bluebell’s gut itched.

  ‘Tell me. If there’s something wrong and it’s important, you should always tell me.’

  ‘You don’t understand, Bluebell. This is not something you can solve by pulling out your sword.’

  ‘Then there is something wrong?’

  Ash kept her gaze in front of her. ‘No.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Why are you so pale?’

  Her voice dropped to a whisper. ‘Because I am afraid.’

  ‘Of him?’ Bluebell gestured towards Unweder. ‘Just say the word, I’ll get rid of him.’

  ‘No, not of Unweder. I’m afraid of myself.’

  Bluebell realised she wasn’t going to get further with Ash. It wasn’t the right time: too much noise and movement. ‘I’m sorry you’re afraid, Ash. And I’m even more sorry you feel you can’t tell me something so important it makes your skin pale and your eyes haunted.’

  ‘Don’t be angry.’

  ‘I’m not angry. I’m sad.’

  ‘Don’t be sad,’ Ash said, with less conviction. ‘Put it out of your mind.’

  Bluebell nodded. ‘Of course. It’s your choice whether you trust me with your secrets. So long as you know you can trust me.’ Her eyes went once again to Unweder and she had the uncanny sense he knew what they were talking about, and that he was laughing at her. ‘I can’t say, though, whether you can trust him.’

  ‘I believe he wouldn’t hurt me.’

  Bluebell smiled tightly, and didn’t say what she was thinking: I believe he would hurt me.

  By the afternoon of the fourth day with Unweder, Bluebell had prevented Ash from speaking more than a few sentences with him. Every time Ash sat down and asked him a question, Bluebell would interrupt, find her a chore to complete, or sit so close she couldn’t talk freely. Ash knew Bluebell was being protective, but Ash didn’t need protecting. Not from Unweder. He knew about her dream — Bluebell’s questions had alerted her to that fact — and yet he wasn’t afraid of her. He hadn’t run or demanded she take herself off in exile. He could help her: she was certain of it.

  So when Unweder announced they were drawing close to his home, the disappointment was heavy in her belly.

  ‘Already?’ she said, as she reined in her horse next to him. Bluebell had made him ride ahead of them the whole way.

  He pointed along the road in front of them. ‘In ten miles you’ll reach a road that forks. Head west. The plains open up after the rocky heath. A tall standing stone will tell you that you are near Yldra’s home. Head north a little way and the path will appear, running up a hill. I should tell you, she is notorious for protecting the way.’

  Ash thought about the corn dollies she had seen in her vision, and she shivered softly from the inside.

  Bluebell gazed up the road, then back to Unweder with her mouth in a hard line. She nodded once. ‘Thank you.’

  Unweder looked as though he was fighting a chuckle.

  ‘We should take him safely to his front door,’ Ash said.

  ‘He can manage,’ Bluebell replied.

  Unweder glanced at Ash. ‘It’s only a mile from here. Perhaps Ash could accompany me while you rest?’

  ‘Yes,’ Ash said, at the precise moment Bluebell said, ‘No.’

  ‘We should be on our way,’ Bluebell continued, with a steely note of warning in her voice.

  Ash, made bold by the days of frustration, dug in her heels. ‘Bluebell, I am going to take Unweder home.’

  ‘Then I’ll go with you.’

  Ash knew Bluebell’s will was inexorable. ‘Very well.’

  Unweder inclined his head politely. ‘This way,’ he said.

  They followed him down a narrow path that was little more than a track beaten into the grass. Tall trees grew on either side of it, spring saplings competing for the sun. A deep, green smell surrounded them, ancient deadfall between layers of mud. For some reason, the smell made Ash feel calm, as though the bubbling anxiety in her soul was ebbing away. She took deep breaths of it.

  Within ten minutes, Unweder’s house came into view. It sat in a hollow, with a narrow, lichen-spotted stone path leading towards the front door. Bare trees crowded close around it, and fallen leaves clung to the roof. Green and yellow mould bloomed in patterns on the thatch.

  ‘Here it is,’ Unweder said, reining in his horse at the top end of the path. ‘Would you like to come in?’

  Ash looked to Bluebell. ‘Please?’ she asked.

  ‘I’ll wait here with Isern and the dogs,’ Bluebell said.

  Ash dismounted, her heart speeding a little.

  Unweder indicated the front door. ‘I’ll take my horse around to the stable. Let yourself in.’

  Bluebell dropped her voice to a whisper. ‘If you’re not back out here in five minutes, I’m coming in. I’ve already lost one sister from this journey, I won’t lose another.’

  Ash swallowed guiltily. ‘Give me ten.’

  Bluebell nodded.

  Ash advanced down the path. A cool breeze moved past her, shaking the hedgerows. It seemed winter still clung around his house: the hedges were so bare she could see the fine grey twigs inside. She pulled open the front door and cold ash swirled up from the hearthpit. The house was narrow: the walls seemed only a few feet apart. It smelled of woodsmoke and rosemary, and faintly of mice. Vines had grown through the shutter slats and died, leaving brown skeletons behind. The only light came from the open door, illuminating long wooden benches crammed untidily with objects, bent floorboards, and a narrow rectangular bed built into a corner of the room.

  A shadow moved across the light and Ash turned to see Unweder.

  ‘That was quick,’ she said.

  ‘I’ll let him walk about for a while and tend to him later.’ He pulled a stool over next to the hearthpit and bent to stir the ashes. ‘Pass me a log and some kindling.’

  Ash looked around and saw a basket full of kindling beside the woodpile behind the door. She brought him a log and an armful of sticks. He arranged them in the hearthpit. His movements were considered and precise. Almost gentle. He didn’t have the strength in his upper body that a man like Heath had, and it made him seem almost effeminate. Only he was not womanish either. Sex seemed almost a ridiculous proposition with Unweder.

  ‘Will you sit,’ he said, gesturing to the other side of the hearthpit.

  ‘I’d best not. Bluebell is expecting me.’

  ‘Your sister is a bully.’

  ‘That’s her job.’

  He smiled. With a noticeable effort, he stilled his hands. Then held his fingers over the fire and rubbed them softly against each other. The kindling burst into flame.

  ‘How did you ...?’

  ‘You could too.’

  Ash’s heart thudded. ‘I cou
ld?’

  ‘You have no idea of your power.’

  ‘If I’m so powerful, why can I not control it? Why could I not even reassure Rose her daughter is safe, or see if my father will survive this elf-shot?’

  ‘You can’t control it because you haven’t focussed it yet.’

  Ash considered him. The flames loaned a warmth to his skin that was usually missing. ‘I have so much to ask you.’

  ‘Go on then.’

  ‘I have about a minute left,’ she laughed.

  ‘Then ask me your most pressing question.’

  She thought hard, then said, ‘Why are you not afraid of me?’

  ‘Why should I be?’

  ‘You mentioned the dream to Bluebell, so you must know of it. Yldra sensed it on me. My Becoming is blighted and I am a danger to others.’

  He shrugged. ‘I am curious about you. About this latent ability that fills you.’

  ‘It doesn’t fill me,’ Ash said. ‘It overflows.’

  A thumping at the door. ‘Come on, time’s up,’ Bluebell shouted.

  Ash glanced to the door, then back to Unweder.

  He dropped his head and stirred the fire with an iron poker. ‘Go, don’t upset Bluebell. She already hates me.’

  ‘She’s only trying to protect me.’

  ‘You’ll be back,’ he said.

  ‘I don’t know if I will be.’

  ‘You will.’

  ‘Have you foreseen that?’

  ‘No. You’ll be back because you have nowhere else to go.’

  Ash swallowed hard. ‘Goodbye,’ she said. ‘Thank you for your help.’ She opened the door. Bluebell stood waiting.

  Would she be back, as Unweder said? The thought filled her with a deep, dreadful thrill, and she suspected he was right.

  Twenty-three

  Bluebell woke with a prickling sense of something being amiss. Almost immediately, she realised Ash wasn’t next to her in the bed. She sat up and looked around. They were in a tiny, stuffy room in an inn less than a day’s ride from Yldra. Ash was nowhere in sight. Frowning, she climbed to her feet and pulled on her cloak. She cracked open the door. The village was quiet, the sun hadn’t yet fully risen. She would have heard if Ash had been dragged out against her will, so she assumed her sister had slipped off as silently as possible. Trying not to be missed.