Tales of the Archer: A Corthan Companion

by Stacy Bennett

  She chuckled tiredly. “I’m not up for climbing tonight.”

  “Whatever you wish,” he said and dropped to sit beneath the canopy of dangling branches, leaning against the smooth trunk. She sat heavily next to him. Though she had seemed interested in Gilland earlier, now she curled up against him, her legs draped over his and her head against his shoulder. They lazed in comfortable silence, watching the river meander by.

  Occasionally, they’d hear the rumbling yowl of the rogue. Reid wasn’t sure if he felt sorry for the beast or not. It had its life, although being an animal, all it knew was that its freedom was gone.

  “Can I tell you something?” he murmured into Maura’s hair.

  She sighed with weariness. “I haven’t said yes yet if that’s what you’re asking.”

  Her sharp tone surprised him. He would never have been so rude as to ask her that particular question. A trapper by nature, he knew how to wait for what he wanted.

  “I wasn’t asking a question,” he said, “but thanks for the courtesy, my lady of the pines.” He smoothed over the awkward moment by slipping into his storyteller’s voice.

  When she looked up at him, her expression was surprised and a little disappointed.

  She wants me to care, he thought. Good.

  “I was going to say you’ll make a fine chieftain,” he said.

  She stared at him in silence for a long moment, then she smiled and nestled back down into his warmth. “So, you agree with my choice?” she asked.

  “Ah, that’s not my place to say, oh dear one.”

  “Well, I’m asking you,” she said with irritation.

  Reid thought for a moment. “Taking on the rogue is a risk, to be sure. But I think you walked the line well.”

  “Spoken like my father,” she replied with a snort. Then she yawned widely.

  “You should go to bed,” he said, although he didn’t want her to leave.

  “Not yet,” she murmured. “Not until you tell me a story.”

  “If it’s a story you want, then a story you shall have.”

  Through the screen of willow branches, the moonshine glinted off the wavering water. He searched for just the right words as the silence deepened. The soft flow of the river and the occasional splash of a cresting fish set the mood for his chosen tale.

  Maura shivered a little and his arm curled around her to ward off the cooling night.

  “There is a Southland story,” he said softly. “Mac brought it home with him. I call it Piruz and His Prince.” He hadn’t intended to hush his voice, but a night so still and peaceful begged for it.

  “Tell me,” Maura mumbled, tucking her head under his chin.

  He briefly wondered how long she’d stay awake; he wasn’t ready to relinquish her company yet.

  “It has long been said that a hooded man hides not just an ugly face, but a cursed heart as well. Yet I will tell you the tale of a man whose beautiful soul was measured best by the scars he bore. I cannot tell you his real name. In fact, no one living knows it. We shall call him… Iyilik.”

  “Iyilik,” she whispered, “what a strange name.”

  “Shh,” Reid admonished. “Iyilik was so disfigured few could bear to look on him. But he hadn’t always been so. He was born a prince, trained to be a soldier and, at the time of our story, had become a beggar. All because of his honorable heart.”

  “Am I going to like this one?” Suspicion colored her words.

  Reid chuckled. “Patience. Life isn’t all happy endings, and if you interrupt me again, I’ll send you to bed without a story.”

  She snorted with humor and punched him lightly.

  “Where were we?”

  “The prince became a beggar,” Maura supplied.

  “Ah yes. It happened one night when the prince was out soldiering with his company of men. They had been tracking bandits through the woodlands. But they lost the trail and decided to camp for the night. The bandits they sought were clever and cruel. They had circled back to set fire to the woods. They lit trees on all sides of the prince’s camp, trapping Iyilik and his men in a circle of flame.

  “The summer had been fierce and the trees burned like tinder, the flames stampeding like frightened elk through the forest. Iyilik woke to the fearful cries of his men. He grabbed his blanket, dunked it in the nearest trough and, draping it about his head, raced to help them. Using the blanket, he ushered them to safety in twos and threes, through heat and fire. In the end, Iyilik was a hero.

  “But alas, my sleepy one, while ferrying them through the flames, Iyilik used the blanket to protect his charges, leaving scarcely any for himself. He was badly burned. The fire took one of his eyes and an ear, leaving his face so scarred his own father would have none of him. The king declared his own son dead and that Iyilik was an imposter.

  “Banished from his country, Iyilik wandered the roads looking for honest work. But once people saw his face, they wanted nothing to do with him. Many believed him marked by a devil; others assumed he was a criminal. No one would hire him. He had to sell his good horse, his sword, and even his fine boots just to feed himself. But he would not part with the heavy soldier’s cloak with its deep hood. Within those dark shadows, he could hide his deformity at least for a while.”

  “That’s cruel,” Maura said softly.

  “Even so,” he said, “Iyilik was not discouraged.

  “One day, as he was passing through a small town, a sleek brown mouse darted between his feet almost tripping him. Chasing close behind it was a scraggly grey-white cat that was not quite grown. The two raced in circles around Iyilik’s dirty feet until, with a soldier’s swiftness, he grabbed the mouse in one hand and the hissing cat in the other.

  “‘Stop it, you two,’ he scolded.

  “The cat meowed piteously and he could see it was only skin and bones. Still he couldn’t bring himself to feed it the mouse which quivered in fear in his other hand.”

  “Now I see why you picked this story, rabbit killer,” Maura whispered.

  “Hush,” Reid chuckled. “Trust me.

  “Iyilik put the mouse on his shoulder and tucked the kitten inside his shirt to keep it warm. He gave the last of his cheese to the kitten and crumbs of bread to the mouse. He knew he couldn’t keep them both for long, but he carried them with him down the road for company.

  “Soon, they came to a farm where a sad-eyed girl sat all alone watching over her goats. Iyilik got an idea. He stopped at the fence and called to her. ‘Hello, young miss. Are you lonely there?’

  “Well, as you can imagine, she was frightened of him and she tried to warn him off. ‘My father sits there in the house watching me,’ she said.

  “The soldier pulled the scrawny cat from the sack, cradling it against his chest and rubbing under its chin. ‘This kitten needs a home,’ he said to her, ‘and I can barely feed myself. Would you like a friend?’

  “‘Oh, yes,’ she said, delighted with the kitten. But as she reached for it, Iyilik pulled it away.

  “‘First,’ he said, ‘you must swear to feed him at least twice a day, from your own plate.’

  “The girl nodded.

  “‘He needs brushing, too. And you must pet him gently and often, as well as give him a mat in the sun to nap on. Can you promise to give him all this? I could not part with him for less.’

  “When the girl promised to do all he’d asked, Iyilik gave her the little hunter. As the cat curled up purring in the young girl’s lap, Iyilik started up the road again.

  “‘And now to find you a home, my whiskered friend,’ he said to the mouse.

  “The mouse wagged his head and said in the tiniest of voices, ‘Take me with you until I can repay your kindness.’”

  “Mice can talk?” Maura blurted out exactly where Ruari had when Reid told him the tale.

  “No, my sleepy one, just in stories. Now hush or I will send you home. Where was I? Oh yes, Iyilik was a surprised as you. ‘Don’t you have family to return to?’ he asked.


  “‘I have thousands of cousins everywhere,’ the mouse answered. ‘I beg you, give me a name and let us travel together for a while.’ Iyilik thought he would be glad for the company, especially someone he could talk to.

  “‘I will call you Piruz for luck, my small friend.’ The two friends traveled for a while together. To pass the time, Iyilik told the mouse stories of castle life and of soldiering until Piruz asked how he had come to such low estate. When Iyilik told his tale, the mouse only twitched his whiskers and said nothing.

  “In the forest between that town and the next, they came upon a carriage stopped on the road. It was surrounded by bandits and, inside, five fine young ladies squealed in fear. The driver had his hands full with these men and so Iyilik tucked the mouse deep into the folds of his hood and joined the fight.

  “Even without his sword, Iyilik was a skilled fighter. Soon, he and the driver had driven the bandits off. The five young women cooed at him and batted their eyes, demanding to know the name of their rescuer.

  “Iyilik could not give his royal name; they would think him an imposter. He could not take off his hood or they would be frightened. But when he refused to do either, the driver attacked him and tried to wrest the cowl from his head. It was then that Piruz leapt out in defense of his friend. The mouse bit the man’s finger and scurried all over Iyilik’s hood squeaking madly. The driver drew back in disgust and the women were aghast.

  “All but one, that is.

  “One young woman with hair like red honey and eyes as blue as a lake smiled at the mouse’s antics. She asked again for Iyilik’s name, her voice soft and kind.

  “Iyilik shook his head regretfully and bowed while Piruz did somersaults from his shoulder for her entertainment. Then the woman instructed the driver to reward the stranger and drive on. Grumbling, the man dropped a few coins in the dirt, climbed up in the carriage and drove away. But the young woman who had smiled and asked his name leaned out and tossed something to the ground. Then she and the carriage were gone.

  “Iyilik retrieved the money from the dirt and then picked up the flower the woman had thrown. It was a white lily, a rare thing in those parts. The coins he slipped into his pocket and he tucked the flower in his collar where he could smell its heavy aroma.

  “‘Did you see the crest on the carriage, Piruz?’ he asked his brave little friend.

  “The mouse shrugged.

  “‘It was the livery of House Kel-Bhasur,’ he said thoughtfully. He stroked the mouse between its tiny ears. ‘I think my luck is about to change.’ Then he followed the carriage along the road.”

  Maura’s head lolled heavily against Reid’s shoulder. “Okay that’s enough for one night,” he said, leaning over to try to see her face.

  She sat up and yawned, pretending she hadn’t been dozing. “But what happens next?”

  “You’ll have to come sit with me again sometime and I will tell you.”

  “Well played,” she chuckled, pushing to her feet. When he stood and dusted himself off, she surprised him by grabbing his collar, leaning up on tiptoes and placing warm kiss on his mouth.

  “Perhaps you will see me tomorrow then,” she said with a wink and slipped into the darkness.

  CHAPTER 9

  Raised voices woke Reid from dreams of dancing bears. “You’ll stay to check the lines and the whelp can come with me.”

  Reid recognized his father’s voice and, by the tone, Tarhill was talking to Connor. There was only one reason the old man would want Reid to go south on the trading run and it had everything to do with Gilland.

  “I won’t have time to babysit Fynan’s men and Reid,” Maclan argued, his tone bordering on disrespect. “Besides, Connor haggles better than all of us. I can show Reid the ropes next trip.”

  Reid tossed the furs aside and thrust his feet into boots, debating the wisdom of joining them. But there would be no avoiding Tarhill’s mood today; and besides, Reid was hungry.

  In the main room, the three Tarhill men glared at each other across the rough-hewn table. The tension in the air was as thick as the porridge Brigga stirred over the hearth. Reid tried to focus on the spicy scent of cinnamon that wafted through the room instead.

  “About time you got up,” Tarhill said, looking askance at Reid. “Lots to be done today, so eat quick.”

  Reid dropped into a stout chair as Brigga placed a bowl of porridge in front of him with a reassuring smile.

  Tarhill pointed at Connor. “You’re with me on the western lines today. Maclan, you and Reid take the north.” Then, Tarhill grabbed a sack of bread and fruit from the counter and headed out the door.

  Connor sighed angrily, shoved his half-empty bowl away, and stood to follow his father.

  “Don’t worry, Connor,” Brigga said, handing him his pack of food. “You’ll be going south. But behave yourself today—if you can.” Then, she patted his cheek like he was a child.

  Connor grunted something unintelligible, grabbed his bow, and followed Tarhill.

  “What’s got them in a twist?” Reid asked, scraping the last of the warm gruel from the bowl.

  “Fynan brought hides he wants to trade in Cortland. We’ll be leaving tomorrow with some of his men,” Maclan said. He put his dish on the sideboard and kissed the top of Brigga’s head. “If you’re done,” he said to Reid, nodding at the bowl, “let’s get started.”

  “Remember,” Brigga said, putting a hand on Maclan’s broad chest. “Don’t—”

  “I remember,” Maclan said, cutting her off. “Come on, little brother. Let’s go.”

  Curious, Reid kissed his mother, took his satchel of food, and hurried out the door. Maclan grabbed a small sledge from the side of the house, looped the traces over his shoulders, and headed into the pines at a long-legged pace without a word. Reid was content to follow. There was enough to occupy his thoughts.

  He understood why Tarhill wanted him to go south. But Connor, Maclan, and even his mother were against it. What he couldn’t figure out was why. Fynan usually sent his hides to trade by boat. Why would he bring them here? By the time they reached the first trap, Reid still hadn’t come up with a reasonable explanation for any of it.

  “Wolf,” Mac said as a grey-furred carcass came into view.

  “A good start,” Reid said.

  “We’re only taking small carcasses today, the rest just skin.” Maclan released the trap and began skinning while Reid moved to reset it.

  Mac grabbed his arm. “No, pack it up.”

  “Tarhill will…”

  “Be in Cortland with me.”

  Confused, Reid was about to argue. “But one of us—”

  “Mother will need your help with other chores,” Mac said cryptically as he pulled the skin from the legs.

  “Okay, what’s going on?” Reid demanded as he pried up the long pegs that held the trap.

  “Not sure what you mean.” Maclan slid the skin from the muscle, turned it fur side out and fastened it to the sledge. Then he took the trap from Reid and lashed it to the sledge as well.

  “I’m not that stupid. None of you want me to go south.”

  Mac eyed him sternly. “Are you saying you want to go?”

  “No, but—”

  “Then leave it at that.”

  Mac grabbed the leather strap of the sled and strode off through the brush. Reid hurried to catch up. “Is this about that rogue?”

  “It’s about much more than just a bear,” Mac said wearily. He eyed his younger brother thoughtfully, then said, “My advice? Court Maura and win her if you can. For all of us.” Maclan started back up the slope.

  For all of us?

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Reid grabbed Mac’s arm.

  “You don’t… need to know,” Mac said.

  “But I deserve to,” Reid answered.

  Maclan stopped and looked skyward with a long-suffering sigh. “I can’t say you’re wrong about that.”

  Reid waited in silence as Maclan rubbed his face and stared into t
he trees. “I heard Fynan talking with his man Uldan. They’re using the bear as an excuse to leave Gilland here when Fynan returns home. They want him to have more… time to sway Maura’s thinking.” Maclan gave Reid a pointed look.

  “That bear’s not some ploy for Gilland. He really wants to tame the damn thing,” Reid said.

  Maclan’s jaw clenched. “But it’s not Gilland’s plan, now is it?”

  That thought brought Reid up short. Fynan?

  “There was something else, too,” Maclan added.

  Reid waited in silence sure this was the thing Maclan was not supposed to say.

  “Fynan said something about Bear Clan summering at the Bay once they marry.”

  “Go to the Bay? But why?”

  “He wants to change things, Reid. Unite the clans permanently. At Seal Bay.” Mac scanned the pines around them as if looking at them for the last time.

  “That’s ridiculous.” Reid scoffed. “The clans have always been independent. You must have heard it wrong.”

  “Oh, there was no mistaking Fynan’s meaning.”

  “But—one clan? It’ll never work.”

  “The clans are dying, Reid. Already the Ceru are gone. Perhaps Fynan has the right of it.” Mac’s eyes slid back to Reid. “But if she were to choose you, Bear Clan could remain here.”

  So they wanted him to woo her, not because he would be good for her or because he loved her, but to ensure the clan remained in the Pines. “That’s why you and Mother want me to stay?”

  “Otherwise, Fynan will have his way.” Maclan’s face was somber.

  Reid felt sick. This wasn’t how he would have chosen to court any girl. Maura deserved better. “Still, Gilland or me, Maura would never let Bear Clan disappear.”

  “She won’t have a choice. The Seals are not so open-minded about a woman’s place in the clan. It’d be different if she had a brother.” Mac shrugged and headed off into the woods.

  They didn’t speak of it again, yet Reid couldn’t stop thinking about what Maclan had said. How could he chase Maura now, when any pursuit of her would be construed as a bid to block the Seal Clan’s heir and nothing more? With all this talk of marriage, Reid had to admit he hadn’t thought that far ahead.