Feather

by Susan Page Davis

  Feather held her breath until she heard Hardy gasp, “This one’s yours, sir.”

  “There’s a pack of them down by the stream,” Alomar said, catching his breath. “They need you.”

  “Patch, stay with Feather,” Tag said suddenly.

  “Where are you going?” Feather asked, although she knew he had heard the elder’s words as well.

  “I need to go where the fighting is.”

  Don’t go, she wanted to cry, but she knew she mustn’t hold him back. She had no right, and it was what he must do to show himself a worthy warrior for his new tribe.

  The panther made a deep burbling sound in his throat, but Tag stooped and said sternly, “Guard Feather.” He stood and told Feather, “Put your hand on his head.”

  Feather reached out and fondled the cat’s broad forehead, then scratched behind his ears.

  “Now, stay,” Tag said, “both of you,” and disappeared into the shadows.

  Feather gulped and clutched the hilt of her knife. Should she hold her bow ready? She wasn’t sure she could tell Blens from Wobans in the moonlight.

  The sounds of fighting were farther away and scattered now, and she wondered where Denna was.

  The cat stiffened and tensed, and Feather stared in the direction he was looking. A massive figure came across the clearing, making for the catapult. The man moved stealthily, and a chill went through her as he looked up in wonder at the throwing arm of the siege engine.

  Lex!

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Feather stood stock still, hoping her form would blend in with the supporting timbers of the catapult, but suddenly Patch gave a deep, rumbling growl, and Lex froze.

  Feather watched him, every hair on her arms and neck tingling. This must be how the cat feels, she thought, and she wished she had Patch’s claws in the moment when she knew Lex’s eyes had found her.

  He stepped toward her, holding his knife at his side. Patch stirred, and Feather wondered if he would flee from Lex.

  But there was no fire tonight. The Wobans had doused all flames, and apparently Lex had counted on surprise in the darkness to aid him tonight. He stood six feet from her, and the panther sat on his haunches next to Feather, switching his tail and kneading the turf with his front paws.

  “Arrow Girl,” Lex’s whisper came to her clearly. “I knew you were here somewhere.”

  “Patch!” Feather’s voice cracked.

  Lex eyed the cat then, and she knew he regretted not carrying a torch. He held up his cruel knife and said slowly, “This blade has tasted the blood of your people already tonight. Make the cat stay.”

  “No.”

  Lex sheathed the knife and took his bow from his shoulder. Feather couldn’t move. He pulled an arrow from his quiver—his last arrow, by the look of things. He nocked it and raised the bow, aiming for Patch’s chest. The cat hissed, and she wondered if he would spring, but Lex held his stare, and the panther seemed mesmerized by the man who had thrust fire in his face.

  “Don’t!” she cried, but Lex pulled the string back, farther and farther.

  Crack!

  Lex threw the splintered bow down in disgust. Before it landed on the ground, his hand was on the hilt of his knife.

  But before he could draw the blade, another figure ran from the shadows. In a fleeting instant, a dark, thin man leapt toward Lex, his snowy white hair glowing in the light of the moon. Lex turned toward him too late, and Alomar’s foot struck squarely on Lex’s breastbone, sending them both down with a thud.

  “Alomar!” Feather shrieked. She ran toward them, but the elder was struggling to his feet.

  “Quick, girl! Bind him!”

  “I have no rope.”

  “Then give me your knife!”

  Lex scrambled to his feet, however, and his eyes were wild. He fumbled once more to draw his blade.

  At that moment, Patch roared and flew past Feather. Lex’s eyes widened, and he turned and ran toward the lake.

  “Patch!” Feather screamed.

  Alomar touched her arm. “Let him do what his nature bids him do.”

  B efore Feather and Alomar could recover from their brief encounter with Lex, the other Wobans began to gather in front of the lodge.

  “We’ve won!” Hardy cried. He saw Alomar at the dining table, where Feather had made him sit to steady his breathing, and he dropped to his knees before the old man. “You saved my life earlier tonight,” Hardy said, grasping the elder’s hand.

  “And mine,” said Feather.

  “I’m pleased I was there to aid you,” Alomar said. His breath was still ragged, and in the moonlight Feather could see beads of sweat on his brow.

  “Jem is hurt,” Shea said. “Karsh, you must run and fetch Tansy.”

  Hunter also bore a knife cut, but neither man’s injury was life threatening. Torches were lit, and the two wounded men were taken into the lodge.

  Tag found Feather’s side. “Where is Patch?”

  “He . . . went after Lex.”

  Tag stared at her, then nodded.

  “If he hadn’t, Alomar would certainly be dead, and perhaps I would be as well,” she whispered.

  Tag squeezed her shoulder, and she noticed then, in the torch light, that the left side of his face was discolored with bruises.

  “What happened to you?”

  “Ulden,” he said, and she swallowed hard.

  The Wobans waited in the quiet night until they were sure the enemy would not return. As the dawn broke, the men went down the trail to view the aftermath of the rock slide and the catapults’ fury. Rand came back first to report to Alomar.

  “We found a man dead at the rock slide, and there’s the one Hardy dispatched up here. Two more down by the stream, and there are three wounded. Shea and the others are bringing them in. Two men and a woman.”

  Feather could hardly breathe as she waited to see the prisoners. Riah was carried by two of the men, alternately moaning and screaming. Her left leg hung unnaturally.

  “You shouldn’t be carrying her like that!” Rand scolded.

  “Sorry,” Hardy said.

  Rand turned and looked about. “Karsh!”

  “Yes, sir.” Karsh jumped forward. He had acquitted himself well in the battle, Feather knew, helping man the second catapult and using his sling.

  “Fetch Tansy from the lodge if she’s done tending Jem’s wound. We need her healing skill.”

  The men put the wounded Blens in one of the summer shelters, and Feather hovered near the door, examining each face.

  “Who was it?” Tag asked, when she turned away at last and joined him and Denna at the outdoor table.

  “Not Lex, I hope,” Denna said.

  “No. It was Potter, that fellow you captured. Him, Riah, and Dell.”

  “Dell? Oh, no!” Tag frowned. “This isn’t right. He has a little son. Sinda probably thinks he’s dead.” He clenched his fist and pounded the table.

  “Who were the dead?” Denna asked, and Feather and Tag stared at her.

  “I don’t know,” Feather said at last.

  “But none of your people know them,” Tag said slowly.

  Denna grimaced. “Do you think we should identify them? What’s the point?”

  “I will do it,” Tag said. “Someone ought to know. . . . We ought to know.”

  As he stood up, the orange and black panther streaked from the bushes and lay down at Tag’s feet.

  “Patch!” Tag knelt and stroked his head. “Where were you?”

  Feather knew the men had searched the path that ran along the lake but found no sign of Lex.

  “He is wounded,” Tag said. He looked anxiously up at Feather. “See? He has a cut here on his head and a slash along his ribs.” The cat gave a deep squawk that reminded Feather of his meow as a kitten.

  “They can’t be too deep,” she said. “Tansy can fix him up.”

  Feather and Denna brought water and a clean cloth so Tag could bathe the panther’s cuts. When the people’s wound
s were tended, Tansy stitched Patch’s skin, while Tag sat with the panther’s huge head nestled in his lap. He stroked Patch and whispered to him while Tansy worked, and Patch only flinched a little. When it was over, he began his rumbling purr.

  “He’ll be fine in a few days,” Tansy said. “Watch him to make sure he doesn’t chew at the stitches.”

  At last Tag rose. “I must speak to your elders now.”

  Feather followed him to the lodge. Patch glided past her, and she felt Denna close behind her. Several of the Woban men were gathered in the meeting room.

  “We ought to just kill them all,” Clyde said.

  “No, no, it is not our way.” Alomar spoke gently and laid a soothing hand on the farmer’s sleeve. “Perhaps if we are kind to these prisoners, when they heal they will be grateful and have a change of heart.”

  “Not Blens,” Rand said. “It will never happen.”

  “How can you be sure?” Alomar asked.

  “It can happen. I am the proof.”

  They all turned to stare at Denna.

  She walked forward and faced the elders.

  “I am a Blen. I have been with them almost five years now. When I was Feather’s age, they stole me. They beat me and cursed me and enslaved me. I hated them. But then . . . I became one of them. I stole. I hurt others. I did anything I had to.”

  Rand looked down at the floor, but Feather watched Denna with pride.

  “If you will have me, I will stop being a Blen. I want to be like you. I want to be . . . you.” Her voice broke.

  Feather stepped up beside her and slipped her arm around Denna. “Denna has changed, sir,” she said to Alomar. “Tag and I have seen her change. She used to be mean to me, but in the end, she helped us.”

  “And Dell,” Feather said. “He is one of the men who was captured. He has a family. I know he is a Blen, but I’m not sure he wants to live as they do. He carries his little son, Tarni, and . . . well, I hope he can go back to his family. Not so he can raid and kill, but so that Tarni and Sinda will not have to grieve.”

  “What of the other man?” Hunter asked.

  Tag looked up into the kind warrior’s eyes. “He has not been with the Blens long, sir. The first time they made me raid with them, I took him prisoner. I didn’t want to kill him, and our leader let me take him captive instead. He has worked hard within the tribe, but I think, like other captives of the Blens, it was to preserve his own life. He would rather be with his own people if he could, or at least with people who live in peace.”

  Alomar nodded. “Let us bring back our women and children. We will hold a full council tonight and discuss what should be done with the prisoners. And we will welcome our new members to the tribe.” He smiled kindly at Denna. “You are welcome here, child.”

  The men began to disperse, and Tag approached Alomar. Feather knew he was offering to identify the dead Blens.

  A hand clutched her sleeve, and she turned to find her brother beside her.

  “Feather, I have so much to tell you!”

  She glanced at Tag and decided he could handle his mission alone. “Come, let’s go into the lodge and find a quiet place.”

  The sat together a moment later on a mat in the women’s sleeping room. “So,” said Feather. “A lot has happened while I was away.”

  “Yes.”

  “You built a new house.”

  He shrugged. “Yes, but that is nothing. Well, not nothing, but there is so much more!”

  “Tell me then.”

  “We’re going to be a family.”

  “What?” She stared at him. Things had indeed changed during her absence. “The tribe is our family,” she said.

  “Yes, but we’ll have a real family. Hunter says that if you want him to, he will adopt us both.”

  Feather was silent, unable to deal with the torrent of feelings that assailed her.

  “Don’t you want to?” Karsh asked. “Because if you don’t, I still want to. I mean, he will be my father for real, and . . . Feather, if Hunter is my father and you don’t adopt him, will you still be my sister?”

  She lunged forward and hugged him. “I’ll always be your sister. I love you. And I’d like to have Hunter as my father.”

  “It’s what we dreamed about when we were little,” Karsh said.

  Feather smiled. Only last year they had whispered about the possibility of becoming a family with Hunter.

  “But we won’t have a mother yet,” Karsh said, frowning. “Hunter hasn’t picked one for us yet. I told him he could marry Tansy, but he didn’t like that idea.”

  Laughter burbled up from Feather’s chest. “You silly sheep! You can’t tell a man who to marry!”

  Karsh swallowed and wagged his head back and forth. “Well, maybe he’ll find someone else, but anyway, he says we can be a family without a mother for now.”

  “I think that’s wonderful,” Feather said.

  “Oh, and another thing.” Karsh grabbed her wrist and leaned toward her, his eyes gleaming. “I forgot to tell you. I can read.”

  Feather exhaled in a quick puff. “I . . . I can’t . . . How did this happen?”

  “Sam, the teacher. We all read now. And, Feather, we have books.”

  “But where did you get them? From the trader?”

  Karsh shook his head. “No, they were in the cellar where the blackberries are. You know, where you . . .”

  They stared at each other, and tears filled Feather’s eyes again. “There were books in that hole?”

  He nodded. “They tell about King Ezander and Queen Milla, and their baby prince Linden being born. And another book has Alomar’s grandfather’s name in it.”

  A sob escaped her lips. How often had she remembered that cellar hole and regretted the day she and Karsh had found it?

  Chapter Twenty Three

  The next evening, all were gathered in the lodge except the sentries and Tansy and Gia, who were tending the wounded prisoners.

  Those not keeping watch had rested during the day, and the men had buried the four dead Blens: Cade, Tala, Ulden, and one of the travelers captured at the end of the journey. They had seen no sign of the enemy returning.

  Alomar stood to address them, all of the Wobans down to Weave’s toddler, Clyde and his family, Sam, Tag, and Denna. He praised them all for their part in the recent victory, whether in preparing for the siege, fighting the enemy, helping the wounded, or simply staying well hidden. Then he welcomed each newcomer formally.

  “Your elders have decided to send a party out to seek the remnant of the Blens,” he announced. “The boy Tag has volunteered to go. If they find them, they will try to make peaceful contact and tell them who are their dead. We shall also offer to let them have their wounded back.”

  A sigh went up from the people. They were uncomfortable harboring the three prisoners, Feather could tell. It would be a relief if they could get rid of them so easily.

  “I will go,” said Shea.

  “And I,” said Hardy.

  “I am told that one of them, the man Potter, has not

  been long with the Blens and was their captive,” Alomar said. “If he does not wish to return to them, we shall give him his freedom, provided he promises to do us no harm.”

  Sam stood up next to read from a book. Feather smiled as he opened it. Tag had showed him the three books they had salvaged during their trek with the Blens, and he had confirmed that they did indeed have a child’s storybook. The second volume was called Navigation Tables. Sam explained that it was useful to sailors in finding their way on the sea. The tables it contained, he said, were not furniture, but lists of figures that helped the sailors calculate their ship’s position. The last of Tag’s little books was words of wisdom penned by Henbee, a philosopher of the old kingdom. His sayings were well known in the Old Times and were worth considering today, Sam said.

  Tag’s sorrow was still heavy, but he was no longer distraught. Finding his old teacher in the Woban village was a comfort to him.


  “You will teach me to read better so that I can understand the history of Pretlea, and my people will not be forgotten?” he had asked, and Sam had assured him that he would.

  Now as Sam began to read from the book of history, Feather listened in wonder. Here was the story of Elgin in more detail than Alomar had been able to tell them before she left the tribe.

  Sam read only the last portion of the book, which told of Ezander’s reign. When he reached the end, the last sentences were, “On this day a prince is born. May Linden live long and one day rule Elgin as well as his fathers before him have ruled.”

  Sam closed the book. “We know the sad events that happened after this was written,” he said.

  Alomar nodded, his eyes glistening.

  Sam went on, “Linden did grow up healthy and strong, and he was a promising prince. He learned well the ways of war and of ruling. He was ready to take over his father’s throne if need be. And he had a sister, Tira, who was lovely and sweet natured. Tira married Prince Rondo of Pretlea, the land in which I was born.”

  The listeners nodded and murmured their assent.

  “Some of you have asked me since I came here,” Sam said, “whether Tira became queen of Pretlea. She did not. Her husband was the king’s fourth son, and he never ascended the throne. They had several daughters, but no sons, and so, according to Pretlean law, their descendants could never become the rulers of the land. Instead the royal line of Pretlea carried through Rondo’s eldest brother and his son, Rondal.”

  Sam looked around at the quiet people and smiled. “However, the story does not end there. I have a bit of history to tell you that I have not yet shared with the Wobans.”

  They all sat still, eager to hear what he would say.

  Sam turned to Alomar. “Tell me, sir, in Elgin, how was the succession to the throne determined?”

  “The office of king passed from a man to his son. Or, if there were no sons, to his daughter.”

  Rand leaned forward and spoke. “But we all know Ezander’s only son died in battle soon after he came to the throne.”

  “Tira,” said Tansy, and they all looked at her. “She would have been queen. We’ve talked about this before.”