Opal Summerfield and The Battle of Fallmoon Gap

by Mark Caldwell Jones

  She had witnessed the brutal deaths of her family—she heard their final screams—and now she was hearing facts that confirmed the death of her real parents. She had never known them, and now she never would. She wanted to cry, but she fought each surge of sadness as it rose. Opal would not let the tears come, and she swore to herself they never would.

  When she finally looked up, Luka was staring at her necklace. It was glowing.

  “Where’d you get that?”

  Opal took offense.

  “Who cares about this stupid necklace?”

  She untied it from around her neck and held it out to Luka. He held his hand open to take it and Opal lowered it into his palm. His flesh sizzled as the stone touched it, and Luka jerked back with a yelp. The necklace flopped to the ground in front of Opal’s feet.

  “I’m dying from the inside out, and all you care about is this dang necklace.” She retrieved it and put it back on her neck.

  “I meant no offense, dang girl,” Luka said, rubbing his new wound.

  “Pain for pain, isn’t that how this world works? All of you men, killing and killing! For what?” Opal snarled at Luka, then finally turned away from the fire.

  Luka said nothing, but he continued to arrange the makeshift camp. He made a very small fire that gave off just enough heat to make the night tolerable, but not enough to betray them to anyone passing on the trail or the nearby ridge. After a long stretch of silence, he spoke.

  “I admire the stories about the way your mother lived her life. There is a lot of respect for her, that’s why I volunteered to find you, Opal. That is your name now, am I right? But it’s not what your mother called you.”

  Luka placed a final branch into the fire, sat back, and looked at her.

  She was now in a deep sleep, one hand clutching her necklace. The stone pulsed in time with her breathing. The necklace’s eye, peacock-feather blue, pierced through the dark, tracking Luka’s movements.

  He sneered at the magic. It flashed abruptly as if it were sneering back.

  He pulled his shard rifle closer and turned back to the trail. It would be a long night of watching and waiting.

  26

  The next morning, Jane Willis sat on the porch of her small cabin looking out over a beautiful Ozark valley, which she of course had no ability to see. A terrible childhood fever had clouded her eyes, but as the illness receded, a gift was left in place of her sight: an inexplicable paranormal aptitude. Her house had a view envied by most of her neighbors, but they would reconsider if they saw the terrors perceived by Ms. Willis.

  While the warm sun on her face indicated that the weather was fine, she could see clouds forming in dark strings, woven by a malevolent force. Ms. Willis had never married, never had children, but her soul was troubled by the evil gathering around one particular child lost in the twisting trails of the Ozark wildland.

  Her vision expanded like a blaze of black powder. Knowledge unfurled on the inner walls of her mind like an animated tapestry. She saw the girl, running, fighting, escaping from a rogue conjurer. Thankfully Opal still had a chance. She was grateful for that. But her gratitude was tempered by the knowledge that the Summerfield family had paid a terrible price. Good people were dead, and now the child was being hunted.

  She felt distressed. The magical protections she had set in place to protect Opal were not strong enough. The Ranger would have to come through.

  Soon Ms. Willis could hear horses approaching in the distance. The visitors eventually made their way up the steep dirt road to her cabin. She leaned into her convictions, calmed her mind, and found the resolve to face what was coming. She prayed that Opal would find that same power.

  She made out the distinct presence of at least four men. She had known them since they were children. They had, each one of them, traded in their potential in order to follow their unscrupulous leader. His name was Kerr Elkins. He served as the Sheriff of Grigg’s Landing. Like most corrupt leaders, he rarely followed the rules he enforced. He seemed pleased to make the law bend to his own particular desires.

  Nick McGurdy stepped up onto the porch. “Holy heaven, this view is fit for a king. And to think that it’s wasted on a crazy blind woman.”

  Kerr Elkins slapped Nick across the back of the head. “Miss Willis is blind, not deaf. Let’s show our host some respect, and this little visit may just go a whole lot better.”

  “Good Morning Miss Willis. You’re looking fine on this beautiful day,” Kerr said.

  “Friend, do what you are here to do. No need to waste our breath on petty deceptions,” Ms. Willis said.

  “Now Miss Willis, you aren’t going to be rude to me in front of my boys are you? I just put Nick in his place. Surely I don’t need to do that to you—or do I?” Kerr asked.

  “It’s a sad thing. You use your strength to hurt those that need you the most.”

  “Hurt? Ain’t nobody been hurt here—yet,” laughed Kerr. His men snickered.

  “Is that so? I see a different picture Sheriff. You got a heavy hand with those young’uns don’t you? Percy, right? Pitt?”

  Kerr was embarrassed and insulted by the old woman’s insight. Few knew his habit of ruthlessly taking out his anger on his young sons.

  “You must soften your heart toward those you have brought into the world. They are slipping from your hand. A child must be blessed by its father. Where there is no love, there will eventually be blood,” she said.

  “Miss Willis, I ain’t got the money to pay you for your fortunetelling. Matter of fact, I don’t remember asking for it neither. I think it’s time you shut your rickety old trap and let me do some predicting,” Kerr said.

  He stepped up and started gently rocking the old woman back in forth in her chair.

  “And here is my first prediction: your nice little cabin here, it may just get burnt to the ground if you don’t give me what I’ve come for. How’s that for a vision?”

  The woman said nothing. She shook her head in disappointment.

  “That’s a fine one Sheriff. You may be brewing up a new career,” said Hayden Gamble. The other men laughed as they fanned out through her cabin to search.

  “Where is it old woman?”

  “What are you here for Sheriff?”

  “Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about,” he said, leaning into the old woman’s face.

  Her eyes stared off away from him. Though she was blind, she saw everything that was about to happen.

  One of the Sheriff’s men smashed out a pane a glass in the window of her bedroom. The others carelessly tossed anything and everything they saw. They pulled apart her bed. When nothing was found in the quilt bin, it was thrown against a corner table holding a very beautiful Tiffany lamp. The lamp, which had been a gift from a distant relative and one of her only luxuries, smashed into bits of colored glass along the immaculately clean floorboards.

  “You don’t have to do this Sheriff. Don’t get caught on the wrong side of this thing. You could just turn around and leave now.”

  “Why in the hell would I want to do that?”

  “The witch that sent you will never have it!”

  “If it’s worth the kind of money she’s offering, then I’m going to make sure she gets it. And, Miss Willis, you talk like someone who knows exactly where it is.”

  “It ain’t here.”

  “Then where?” Kerr snarled, rocking the woman a bit rougher.

  “Long gone.”

  “Maybe that’s where you’re going,” Rufus Farley said.

  He leaned over the old woman and wiped away the black tobacco juice that slipped down his chin. He lifted a tin of kerosene in his hand and tilted it forward carefully, letting it drip, drip, drip into her lap.

  “You boys are caught up in evil things.”

  “Is that right?” asked Kerr.

  “Powerful things you don’t understand.”

  “How much is that advice going to cost us, old woman?”

  Jane Willis
went very still, her voice seemed colder, more distant, her intonation an eerie echo. “Leave in peace and you may still have a chance,” she said.

  “Dang, she is a real twisted up kook,” Nick said.

  Kerr spun the rocker. He leaned in brutally close. Ms. Willis could feel his hot breath and smell the moonshine coming through his pores. He looked deep into her cloudy eyes.

  “Can you see me old woman?” He spit out his words in a barely controlled fury.

  “Through and through son, through and through.”

  In the next moment, the old woman seemed to leave her own body. Her mouth barely moved, but her voice filtered out in a lovely hymn, the first she learned as a child.

  A spark of sulfur and the smell of kerosene wafted through the air. Then smoke. As her cabin began to burn, Jane Willis could see a new, more majestic valley come into flawless view.

  27

  Many miles away, in the Ozark wilderness, Opal watched the sky go dark. Ominous grey clouds swelled overhead like smoke. The sight brought memories of the real smoke she had witnessed the night before, when her family’s home went up in flames.

  Luka was cooking purple-red meat over the coals of the previous night’s fire. It was a small grey squirrel. To her left was a pile of blackberries resting on a thin piece of carved wood along with a knife, a small block of cheese, and a canteen.

  Luka pulled a leg from the roasted animal, brushed the char from its skin, and handed it to Opal with a faint smile.

  Opal took it with what must have been a look of disgust.

  “It’s no time to turn your nose up to food. You will need the energy more than ever. Eat everything you can. We won’t have time for this kind of meal again until nightfall. Today we travel a long way.”

  “I don’t want to go with you. I don’t even really know you,” protested Opal.

  “If you want to live another day, you will go with me,” Luka responded, annoyed by her attitude.

  He was so incredibly handsome. Maybe going with Luka wasn’t such a bad idea after all. Opal grabbed the block of cheese and ate the berries. She sniffed the squirrel, bit into the charred flesh, and found that Luka had salted the skin and flavored it with some unknown herb.

  Soon the entire plate of berries and cheese were gone and she found herself gnawing a bare bone. She inspected the rest of the leg for more meat and found herself disgusted by the small toes that still dangled at the end of her meal. She threw the bone into the corner of the small cave.

  Luka corrected her: “Holy Moses girl, what are you thinking? We’ve gotta stay invisible! They’ll find that half-gnawed bone and know we were here. From that they’ll know how far in front of them we are, and any doubt they had about our trail will vanish. Now clean that up, and let’s clear out.”

  He rolled together his provisions and tools into a leather pack that he placed on his back. He scraped the campsite clean and buried the embers and burnt wood remains, along with the leftovers of their meal, into a shallow trench he’d dug at the very back of the cave. He scattered the needles they’d used for bedding back out at the entrance of the cave and then took the pine branches and swept the cave clean, leaving the dust and debris on its limestone floor disordered. Soon all traces of their camp were gone, and it had only taken Luka minutes to do it. Opal was impressed, but she didn’t want to tell him.

  “Follow me closely now. Don’t leave a trace, you hear? Think of yourself as a rabbit. Move like a bobcat. But don’t leave a single track,” he said.

  Opal watched the careful placement of Luka’s feet as he moved up the ridge to the bluff beyond. He never stepped into the soft mud and was careful to find only sure footing. Opal tried her best to mimic his movements. She didn’t want her footprints to be the reason they were found—or worse, killed. In truth, she wanted to impress Luka, but she didn’t understand why. This was the first time she could remember caring what a boy thought.

  They headed east away from town, and after a few hours, she recognized the river to the north. Its water was like emerald glass. It flowed fast at this section, tumbling over fallen trees and sandstone rock.

  Luka kept moving at a steady pace. When the sun rose so that it was directly above them, he left the main trail and headed north. The two of them mounted a ridge then descended into a darker hollow. They cut through a grove of white oak and walnut trees. Luka occasionally reached down and grabbed a handful of fallen nuts. He motioned to her to do the same, and she stuffed her pockets with them. Luka led her down a long dry creek bed and under a natural rock formation for shelter and rest.

  An ancient creek had created a natural bridge by wearing through what was once a sturdy limestone ridge. They rested in the shade of the bridge’s tunnel and ate some of the walnuts they had found. Luka walked up the trail a bit and disappeared, but he quickly returned with a handful of morel mushrooms and a few wild strawberries.

  As they began readying themselves to continue the journey, movement at the tunnel’s entrance put Luka on edge. He readied his rifle and unsheathed his dagger. He handed Opal the silver blade, which she took awkwardly. A rustle of leaves made it sound as if several men were approaching. Luka backed them both into the shadows and behind a boulder for cover. Soon the rustling gave way to the whimpers of five red fox pups emerging from their den.

  Luka turned to Opal and smiled. It was the first smile she had seen from him. She instantly felt a tug of attraction. The boy was strong, seemingly fearless, and now she saw that he had a heart under all that toughness.

  If he wasn’t so dang serious, he might even be fun!

  Cautiously, Opal moved closer to see the litter. She put her hand on Luka’s shoulder and peered over him. She liked being close to him. Luka didn’t seem to mind either.

  The mother fox was missing from the tiny clan. Opal admired the playfulness of the baby foxes as they rolled in the leaves and leapt and jumped and sniffed at the forest floor. Only a few days ago, she had the same carefree attitude.

  Luka pointed south. Halfway up the rocky bluff overlooking the natural bridge, an adult fox surveyed the scene, watching the babies. It carefully tracked the two strangers as they passed on from the litter. A danger averted.

  Who is watching over me now? Opal wondered to herself. All of my mothers are dead.

  They had traveled a long way, but they were not out of the reach of the Hoods yet. If the mysterious man who attacked Luka was intent on finding them, it would only take half a day of hard riding to catch up. As good as Luka seemed to be, rifle and all, he would be no match for the man if he brought friends.

  The mother fox was descending the bluff, returning to her babies. Opal turned back to Luka and realized she had fallen behind. She ran to catch up, being careful with her feet, avoiding the mud, and trying to make sure she gave no advantage to any predators following their trail.

  She remembered she was still carrying Luka’s dagger. It was small but unique. She had seen some very beautiful hunting knifes for sale in town, their handles made of beautifully carved deer antlers polished to such a shine that they appeared to be ivory. Many times the handles depicted scenes of hunting.

  Luka’s blade was beautiful. It seemed to be made of two individual pieces of silver that jutted out from the handle and forked, flaring out to create a decorative space for a clear jewel. The pieces rejoined like two streams becoming one river, finishing off the length of the weapon in a dangerous, double-bladed dagger. The hilt was inlayed with small crystals, and the ivory handle was wrapped with leather. The hilt ended in a point that seemed to have its own edge, as if both ends might be used in combat.

  Opal was so mystified by the blade that she walked directly into the back of Luka, who had stopped on the trail to take some water.

  “It’s a Warden’s weapon,” he said, recognizing Opal’s fascination. “Your mother carried one. It’s pure silver, and because of that, it is impervious to witchcraft and conjurers’ spells.”

  “Why does it have so many jewels?”


  “Those are gemstones. They transmit power into the weapon.”

  “Power? It seems like it should be heavy, but it’s light as it can be.” Opal balanced the blade in her hand.

  “It has certain magical properties that I don’t fully understand. But it’s very handy in a pinch.”

  “Magic?” Opal scoffed.

  “Yes, magic. Dangerous magic. Just like your necklace.”

  That’s a huckleberry over my persimmon, she thought. What in the heck do I know about magic?

  Magic seemed to be a bunch of nonsense. Maybe Luka was a bit dramatic. Yet there was a memory—the necklace had melted the raider she fought—it was a horrible memory, and one that was impossible to explain. Magic? It seemed crazy, but what else could it be?

  28

  Back in Hookrum, Big Maggie Brown was on the back porch of the Stillwell watching grey clouds spread out across the sky. She laughed as the sky slowly went dark. She felt the power of Jane Willis dim and then leave the world. It was as if the last candle fighting back the night had been snuffed. A devilish grin spread across her face.

  She walked toward the barn and nodded knowingly at some of her men, the men that worked the place. They were clustered together talking about the sudden change in the weather. Soon they went back to tending the fire that cooked the mash. The mash made the moonshine. The moonshine made the Stillwell.

  The Stillwell kept important things hidden.

  Big Maggie strolled past the main buildings and into the woods. About two hundred yards into a walnut grove, she stopped at one of the highest sections of the great wall—Devil’s Alley. She scanned the woods with her eyes and with her power, and she found she was alone.

  Suddenly, there was a shimmer of distorted light and Big Maggie Brown was no more. In her place stood another woman. Her name was Amina Madewell.

  Amina was a conjurer of dark magic. She was beautiful and lean in ways Maggie Brown could only hope to be, muscle-honed, with a multitude of tiny scars like fine little ribbons across her arms and legs. Her skin was the color of nutmeg, her lips ruby-red, and her hair flowed in a long black mane. She was clothed in an elaborate eggplant-colored cloak that revealed much of her beautiful body as it fluttered in the Ozark breeze.