Legends of Havenwood Falls Volume One

by Tish Thawer

  They both took deep breaths and nodded, renewed by Marie’s faith in them. Mission in mind, they quickly followed the others down.

  “Judson, where’s Rachael? And Sarah? Have you seen them? Did they get away?” Marie’s voice took on a hint of panic and concern for her best friend.

  Judson shook his head. “I haven’t seen them. Sarah was waiting for everyone to leave before she left . . .”

  “Of course, what else would a leader do?” Marie replied exasperatedly. She understood, but in that moment, she wished they had been selfish and got away. “I have to find them.”

  Determined, Marie turned to the barn door.

  “Wait,” Judson stopped her. “Take a weapon.” He walked over to a wall with a lock on the edge of it. Judson slid a long skeleton key, strapped to his wrist with a piece of leather, into the lock. It popped and whirred with the sound of some mechanism giving way. Marie’s jaw dropped.

  “How did I not know about this?” She watched as the false wall split in two and flipped over with the help of some sort of clockwork pieces and cogs working together. With a puff of steam, the new side of the wall came to a halt, revealing multiple pieces of weaponry. Each was beautiful in its own right, with perfect metalwork, shining blades, and sharp edges. She gasped, eyeing all the weapons, from swords to daggers to maces and other types she didn’t even know what to call.

  “Pick one quickly,” Judson instructed with a small smile, obviously pleased with her reaction.

  “I’m not surprised, but did you make these?” she asked with wonder.

  “I did.”

  “They’re beautiful, Judson, really. Pick one for me?”

  Judson reached forward and selected a slim dagger with a blackened handle, leading up to a darkened silver hilt covered with an elaborate design made of intricate metalwork. Marie’s eyes grew wide, and her mouth opened in awe, ticking up at the sides to reveal a pleased smile.

  She clapped her hands together and nodded. “It’s perfect!”

  Judson smiled. “Let’s go.”

  She placed her hand on his arm to stay his movement. “No, I’m going alone. It’s not safe, especially for you. I can move faster with my hunter speed if I don’t worry about you keeping up with me. Don’t be offended, Judson. It’s just the way it needs to be. You have a job to do here. Keep them safe.” She pointed to the bunker behind the wall.

  “I’m not offended. I’ve known all along who you are and what you are capable of. I believe in you and will keep your family and mine safe. Just hurry and be careful.” He kissed her on the tip of her nose and moved away, allowing her to go and do what she needed to do, trusting she was capable to achieve it and come back to him.

  Marie did not tarry, but gingerly tiptoed out into the dark night lit only by the fires still blazing in some structures. As the night burned on, the flames began to dwindle. Though she didn’t need the light because of her excellent hunter’s vision, the fires provided extra shadows, which helped to conceal her. She lunged from structure to tree and then from tree to alternate structures, using whatever was left standing to help shield her. Voices rang out in the distance, hoots and hollers that she could identify as some of her relatives—it broke her heart to think of what they could still be doing to any witch they found alive.

  Finally arriving at the Stronghold house, Marie dashed in the back door, which was hanging askew, off its hinges. Glass was shattered on the wooden planked floor. At the least, a struggle had happened, but what else, she couldn’t determine.

  “Sarah?” she dared whisper when the house was otherwise silent. Marie tiptoed through each room. “Rachael?”

  Marie stopped. The sound of a boot scuffing on wood caused her to pause. Straining, she listened for which direction to go. Again off to her right, from a small darkened closet, she heard stifled sobs.

  “Sarah? Rachael?” she tried again.

  “Marie?” a broken voice whispered back. The door slowly opened to reveal Rachael, her hair matted and disheveled, her eyes red and swollen from crying, and cradled on her lap was her mother’s head.

  “Oh, Rachael,” Marie mourned for her. Sarah obviously was dead, with her neck at an odd angle and her eyes open but unseeing. Marie moved slowly forward and gripped Rachael’s hand while she gently closed the lids of Sarah’s eyes.

  “It’s time to go, Rachael. They could come back,” Marie quietly prodded.

  Rachael shook her head adamantly. “No, no, no, I can’t leave her. She died protecting me and others. I can’t leave her here.” She broke and sobbed so violently, her shoulders shook.

  “Rachael, don’t let her sacrifice be in vain. She protected you so you could lead her people . . . your people, the Stronghold Coven. You have to come with me now.” Marie pushed her friend more than she wanted to. She wanted nothing more than to let her grieve and bury her mother in the place of their home, but it couldn’t happen. Tears silently flowed down Marie’s face as she helped pull her best friend away from her mother, away from every happy moment of her childhood and her home into an unknown and uncertain future.

  Sadly and quietly, they made their way back to the forge and into the hidden bunker unseen.

  The next morning, just as dawn approached, Marie stirred everyone who had finally and safely fallen asleep. Judson returned to the bunker after having scoped out topside, accompanied by several other men who hadn’t been with them the night before.

  “It’s safe to go, but we need to go now. The wagons are waiting for us just outside. We need to put some distance behind us before next nightfall,” Judson urged as he helped others gather their items. “These men are drivers who will be traveling with us. They brought the wagons.”

  One by one, they emerged from the smithy and out into the rising sun. The sight that greeted them was one that would forever be etched in their hearts and memories. Homes destroyed. Smoke still rising from the dying coals. Bodies of those unfortunate to have not found safety in time. Pure devastation. Judson helped by ushering them along into the wagons, not to linger, not to stare. Everyone moved somberly, and quietly they loaded all they had left into the multiple covered wagons pulled by two horses each. One wagon was devoted simply to crates and sacks of supplies as well as personal belongings. Cries were heard, but no one spoke until the last was loaded.

  Marie reached for Rachael’s hand before they loaded and gave Rachael an encouraging nod to speak to her people.

  “Say goodbye, for this is the last we will see of this place. We move forward into the unknown, into the light of a new dawn, untainted by the evil of our past, into a future with new possibilities for us. For we are the Stronghold witches traveling with friends, and we will be strong.” Rachael offered Marie a small smile, looking every bit the leader her mother always knew she could be. Marie couldn’t have been more proud of her friend, knowing the pain she experienced underneath it all. “Many could point fingers and hope to blame and seek revenge upon those who we call friends because of their relations’ sins, but know this: as of this very moment, they are under coven protection and considered ours.”

  Rachael stared each and every one of her people in the eyes to ensure they understood her message—mess with Marie and they mess with her. Marie’s heart warmed while at the same time it broke, knowing what happened to them was her family’s fault.

  “For what it is worth, I am not my siblings, and my heart breaks alongside yours. I am truly sorry for what has befallen you and yours.” Marie bowed her head, hoping they heard the authenticity in her words. Judson came to her side and laced his fingers within hers and kissed her temple.

  “Time to go!” Judson announced as he helped Marie up into their wagon right after Rachael. The drivers flicked their wrists, jostling the reins of the horses, and off they went, putting the darkness of the town and the rising light of the day behind them as they traveled west.

  Chapter 7

  Arkansas ~ Summer 1851

  Days on the wagon trail were monotonous at best; one,
two, three days soon turned into weeks. Sometimes they stopped only for one night, but other stops turned into settling for several days—even weeks and months—at a time, enough to give their backsides as well as the horses a break. Each stop only stoked the desire within their souls to continue west.

  “Judson?” Marie asked one night as they sat around the fire, cooking a rabbit stew. He looked up lovingly at her, and she felt heat crawl up her chest. The man had a way of turning her insides into mush with a single look. “How will we know when we reach the place to be our new home? It seems we have been traveling for so long already.”

  The wagons were circled up around them, creating a barricade from the wind, allowing their fire to thrive in its shelter, and protecting them all from the elements and other dangers. Around the fire, they had placed several old logs to use as benches. Sitting upon them were those traveling with Marie and Judson: her brother Rodney, her father Hank, Caroline and Michael, and some of the other tagalongs they had adopted, as well as a few of the witches, who huddled next to Rachael. The days were quite warm to travel, but the evenings were chilling with early autumn breezes. The rolling green hills were beautiful during the day, and at night, they set the backdrop for the night’s glory to unfold above them.

  Roasting a piece of rabbit on a stick, Judson methodically rotated it for an even cook as if it was second nature to him.

  “We will follow our hearts and our intuition.” Judson patted his heart then his head. Marie glanced at Rachael, who nodded at his statement.

  “And what of the rest of the Stronghold coven who left before Dante struck?” Marie asked hesitantly.

  “We have several items of theirs to help locate them on the journey. We will find them,” Rachael answered confidently.

  Marie looked behind them in the opposite direction from the wagons and took note of the specialized tents they were given by the witches. Each tent was equipped with metal rods, which unfolded in segments, connecting together to provide a structure similar to teepees, then surrounded by thick leather stitched together to create “walls.” On the outsides, where each end of the leather met, a large clasp held them together; the mechanism reminded Marie of the inside of a clock. When one pulled the lever, it made a ticking sound and then a click, which released the hook on the opposite end of the leather, allowing one to enter the tent and then reconnect it on the inside, even lock it for the semblance of privacy.

  In the distance, a coyote howled, and a shiver ran up Marie’s spine.

  “I wonder where Dante and the others are?” she whispered for only Judson’s ears. “Do you think they are looking for us?”

  “I pray they are not,” was his only reply.

  “Many times while we’ve been traveling or after we stop, sometimes I get the faintest feeling of another hunter or that we’re being watched. We can’t let our guard down where he is concerned.”

  “Tonight, let’s have Rachael and a couple of the others do an extra protective spell around the campsites,” Judson suggested.

  Marie nodded her agreement. “I’ll ask her after dinner.”

  Just as dinner had ended, one of the drivers, Butch, pulled out a well-loved five-stringed guitar and began to softly strum. Several people gathered around him and the fire to listen to the melodic tune as it floated up to the glittering dark sky above. Some men carved shapes and designs into sticks and pieces of wood to pass the time, a few of the women worked on hand-stitching pieces of fabric together to create more blankets for the coming cold, and Judson tinkered on some delicate metalwork inside his tent. Marie reached for Rachael’s hand and pulled her over near one of the wagons for a semi-private conversation.

  “How are you doing since . . . ?” Marie asked cautiously, concerned for her friend. Rachael was usually full of life and joy, but since they’d left and her mother had died along with many others from her coven, she had grown sullen and quiet.

  “I’m making do, Marie.” She sighed and gave her friend a small sad smile. Marie squeezed her hand. “I know the coven needs me, so I’m trying to get my heart and my head figured out.”

  “Give yourself time, Rach. You’ve all been through a lot, and your coven is dealing with it all still, as well.”

  “I know.” Rachael gazed back at the fire, toward the remainder of her coven who hadn’t left before Dante struck, and sighed again, shifting her gaze to her shoes. “I don’t think they are going to accept me like they did my mom. My magic has always been a little different. They humored me while Mother was training me, but now . . . I’m not so sure.” Rachael shrugged dejectedly.

  “That’s not true. They will love you. Right now, they’re watching you to see how you respond to this tragedy, to see if you’re strong enough to lead them—which you are, you just don’t know it yet.”

  Rachael let out a brief laugh of disbelief.

  “You are going to lead them into their destiny, and they will respect you for it,” Marie continued, unfazed by Rachael’s sarcastic sound.

  “I don’t know about that, but thanks, Marie. I appreciate you trying.” Rachael gave Marie a quick hug.

  “Before you go back to the fire,” Marie started, “I think I’ve felt hunters.” She held up her hands in a placating gesture. “Before you panic, whoever it is is not close, and I felt it a ways back. But just in case, Judson and I thought it best to ask if you can add an extra layer of protection tonight when you work your spells.”

  With hands on her hips and her head cocked to the side, Rachael raised a brow in attitude. “First of all, I have never panicked on you. Secondly, I have always known being your friend came with risks and have accepted them wholeheartedly, just as you have accepted my coven.”

  “There’s my Rachael back.” Marie giggled.

  “But yes, I will add to the spell tonight. I’m even going to bring in some of the other witches to help.” She paused, uncertain her decision was right after what they had been through. “Yes, that’s what I will do. I am not going to hide things from them. They knew traveling would have its risks, and if we are to be a strong team, we need to be honest and work together.” Rachael nodded decisively.

  “Good plan,” Marie agreed. “Thank you.”

  “No problem.” Rachael hesitated, then added, “What do you think of the new men who joined us at our last stop?”

  Marie frowned, then remembered. “Do you mean the Ahusaka brothers, the native shifters?”

  “Yes, I haven’t been around many shifters before. Mother had a few contacts who were wolf shifters, but their magic felt different than the brothers’ magic does. They keep pretty much to themselves. Do you think we can trust them?”

  “I haven’t had many dealings with them either, but there is kindness in their eyes. I think we can,” Marie answered. “Plus they’re easy on the eyes, don’t you think?”

  “I suppose so, though I haven’t noticed much,” Rachael said, pretending to be haughty. But Marie knew if it weren’t so dark, she would see a blush creeping up her friend’s neck.

  “Well, I’m not looking, but if I were, I think they are quite nice to notice.”

  Rachael giggled under her breath, knowing what her friend was after. “Well, I’ll let you know if I do—notice that is.”

  “Sounds like a plan. Let’s get back to the evening festivities. I need to check on Judson.”

  “I saw him enter your tent. I bet he’d allow you to observe how nice he is to notice,” Rachael said in a teasing manner.

  Marie laughed. “You need to work on your suggestive phrases. That could have been so much better.”

  Rachael laughed in return, then looped her arm through Marie’s as they walked back to the group, sauntering with lighter steps than they had started with.

  Marie woke in the morning to find the sleep sack next to her empty. She stretched her body and felt it pull deliciously in places that made her ache for Judson again and again. He was her match in every way, and she couldn’t imagine her life without him in it, which made his
absence even more of a disappointment this morning.

  She rose to find him speaking with a small group of men from their camp—a mixture of witches, the Ahusaka brothers, her father Hank, and the drivers of their wagons.

  “Now what is going on?” Marie said to herself as she fastened their tent entrance back up, then headed to the group.

  Smoke still drifted from the mostly burnt logs left over from the fire the night before, lifting into the rising dawn of the chilled morning. She could hear others stirring in their tents, preparing to come out to begin chores for breakfast. They had discovered the easiest way to work with everyone was to split chores and rotate them, so everyone pitched in and no one felt burdened with the bulk of responsibilities.

  “Morning, everyone,” Marie chirped, joining the group just as Rachael joined from the opposite side. The sun was just barely peeking above the plateau and the sounds of the nearby gurgling creek set the stage for a lovely day. Unfortunately, she had a feeling their meeting was anything but lovely. “What’s going on? We haven’t even had coffee yet.”

  Judson reached for her and pulled her to his side, tenderly kissing her temple. “Morning,” he whispered in her ear, causing her to giggle before remembering they had an audience, and then she blushed.

  “Do not be ashamed of your love,” the older of the Ahusaka brothers, Alo, admonished. “It is always a joy to find love. It brings hope to all here.” He gestured out toward the cluster of tents.

  “Thank you.” Judson acknowledged him with a nod.

  “You are welcome, Atsidi,” he returned with a slight incline of his head. Atsidi, Judson and Marie had learned, was their word for a blacksmith, and he recognized Judson as such.