by Jenny Moss
A soldier with a broad, flat face snorted. “You just grabbed his daughter and threatened to cut her throat! Some bravery that was!”
One of the other men laughed so hard, he fell off his stump. How could they jest after what they’d done?
The woman’s face lit up a fiery red, and she whispered to her daughter. The girl, maybe twelve or thirteen years, pulled back from her mother a little and scowled at the soldier. She was long and lean, with an angelic face, but dark eyes. Her father put his head against hers, as if to calm her.
These must be Fyren’s men. I thought of Sir Kenway’s earlier words, accusing me of allegiance with the regent. I didn’t believe Kenway meant them, but I felt slightly sick anyway. I had been too kind toward Fyren, in light of what I knew now. But he and I were not the same. I was not of his ilk. I was not.
My initial indifference to his murder of the queen nagged at me. Was I as hard-hearted as Leofwine had accused me of being? Shame came over me, briefly.
I pushed the shame away, impatient with myself. This brooding would change nothing.
“All of you have had enough to drink,” said the leader. “We ride before the sun comes up tomorrow.”
“I don’t think they’ll want to see us, my lord,” said the guard, darkly. “With more than half our men gone. And only two men as prisoners. And one of them might not make it back alive the way he’s bleeding.”
“Have you finished?” asked the young nobleman.
The guard spat and said no more.
We crouched there, quietly watching them. They continued to drink despite their leader’s orders. He didn’t seem to have their respect. Perhaps the heavy price the soldiers had paid for victory ate away at their willingness to follow him.
I noticed Sir Kenway studying the lord closely. I watched him, too. Although young, he was not as foolish as the others.
Soon it was dark, except for the light of the moon. Many of the soldiers had fallen asleep where they drank, snoring, with their mouths open. The lord was in his blankets, a few feet away from the fire and the men. He kept his shiny, silver-sheathed sword close.
The guard was also watching his leader. Earlier, he’d been given bread and some of the leftover rabbit, but only water to drink. The prisoners were given no food.
Sir Kenway pulled me back into the woods. “See the guard eyeing the wine? He’s tempted. In a moment, he’ll retrieve it. When he does, you must cut the twine of the villagers. Release Malcolm first. He’s the black-haired man.” He gave me the knives. “Give these to Malcolm and his wife, Ete. They’ll know what to do.”
“Ete is the older of the two women?”
“Yes.”
My heart raced. “You’ll kill the young lord.”
“That is my hope,” he said. “Maneuver yourself around to the large oak right behind the villagers. When the guard gets up, you must move quickly.”
“Yes.”
“One of the men is injured. You and the other woman need to help him to the horses.”
“All right.”
He paused. “Eldred would be angry if he knew I was endangering you. But I can see no other way.”
“Eldred’s dead, Kenway.”
“You must move quickly to the horses.”
“I know my part.”
“It’ll happen fast,” he said. “If all goes right.”
“And even if all goes wrong,” I said, smiling a little but feeling pressure in my chest.
He pulled a dagger out of his belt. “Come.”
I moved quietly through the trees toward the sprawling oak, keeping low to the ground. It was dark in the shadows and difficult to see. I tripped over a large root, but recovered my footing before I tumbled to the ground. I saw Malcolm’s head jerk up. I hoped the guard hadn’t heard me as well.
But he was only interested in the wine. He stood and ventured toward the circle of sleeping men. I crept closer to the villagers, my heart pounding. Malcolm whispered something in his wife’s ear, and one by one, they told each other.
The guard looked back, but I was hidden by the rock the injured man leaned against. The darkness helped conceal me as well. I waited until he turned his attention back to finding a flask not empty.
When I touched Malcolm’s shoulder, he didn’t flinch. No one said a word.
The blade was sharp, and the twine fell away.
“Wait for Kenway,” I whispered in Malcolm’s ear. They took the daggers from me, hiding them behind their backs. Even the girl was given one.
I crouched behind the rock. The guard returned.
I heard the nobleman cry out. Malcolm stood, and in one swift violent movement, slit the throat of the unsuspecting guard, who slumped to the ground. I jumped up. I could see Sir Kenway struggling with the leader.
“The prisoners!” yelled a soldier. The horses began to stir.
Malcolm gave out a guttural sound, filled with rage and pain. He flew toward the warriors, his dagger raised.
The younger woman sat frozen to the ground. I shook her shoulder and bade her to help me. We put our arms around the wounded man. He leaned into me. Ete had grabbed a spear and was fighting alongside her husband, as was the girl. I couldn’t see Sir Kenway in the flying arms and weapons.
We stumbled to the horses.
“Here, Ard, get up,” the woman said. She put his foot in the stirrup and pushed him into the saddle.
“I thank you, Lulle,” he mumbled. She swung into place behind him, her skirt bunched up around her.
I untied my horse and resecured the bundle of weapons, but not before Lulle grabbed a dagger of her own. Her eyes, so vacant just moments ago, were now filled with rage. I thought she might leap down and join the melee.
I got on my horse. We waited.
Chapter Nineteen
Sir Kenway came out of the trees into the moonlit clearing on a dark horse. I gave a start when I saw the blood across his tunic, but he didn’t appear to be hurt. He wore a serious but satisfied look.
Malcolm and Ete rode close together, the grime of battle smeared on their faces. Their daughter trailed behind. There was no rejoicing over victory. All were somber. I didn’t doubt they had killed them all.
Ard fell forward against his horse, letting out a sigh. Lulle put her hand briefly on his head. She and I exchanged quick nods.
We left that place.
Not more than an hour later, we stopped by a green pond tucked into some trees. Lulle tended to Ard’s wound as best she could. She had a gentle way about her, and Ard seemed to breathe easier under her care.
Sir Kenway and the others washed the bright blood from their hands and faces. All but the girl did. She lay down on wet leaves and stared at the stars until her mother stood over her. “Ingen, clean their red muck off of you! I’ll not carry any part of those animals back home with us.”
Ingen knelt at the water’s edge. Cupping her young hands, she dipped them into the pond and poured water over her pale face. When she did so, one long thin braid fell forward. I had seen such a braid before. Ingen scooped up the hem of her light cloak to dry with and then laughed at her mother.
“Ah, Ingen,” said Ete with a sad smile. “It’s time to sleep.”
They bunched up brown leaves, making a soft place to lie. We shared our blankets with them.
Sir Kenway sat under a tree and put on a fresh tunic.
“I’m glad to see you again, sir,” said Malcolm, with his hand resting on Ingen’s shoulder. “I thank you especially for saving my daughter.”
Sir Kenway gave a brief nod, looking exhausted and pleased.
They all fell asleep quickly.
I listened to the sounds of the forest. The silver birches were like candles, shining brightly under the cold moon. Ladies of the wood, protecting us. I looked upon the sleeping faces of Malcolm and his family as they huddled together and felt a pang of jealousy. But it was tempered by a sense of contentment.
I saw Sir Kenway watching me.
“You can sleep, Shad
ow. They are all dead.”
I nodded and did just that.
“We didn’t have much warning,” said Malcolm, his face haggard. “They attacked at dawn.”
He and Kenway led us on wide paths through these peaceful woods. Birds chirped and flew overhead. I felt as if they followed us. They nested in the silver trees, which were spaced far apart with little underbrush between. It made for easy, pleasant riding.
Sir Kenway’s exhaustion showed on his face. Despite our leisurely pace, he was still vigilant. But hadn’t he killed all those Fyren had sent?
Lulle and Ard still shared a single horse. Neither said a word. Their faces were twisted in a silent grief, it was plain to see. I pushed away my own memory of that tragic scene in the village. These people had been there, lived through the horror of it. Would they ever be able to forget?
Ingen rode close beside her father. I wondered about her simple braid, similar to the one of the dead woman in the dungeon: narrow, longer than the rest of her hair. Perhaps that woman Maren had been from this part of Deor and these women wore their hair that way. It was curious.
Suddenly, Ingen spurred her white horse on, riding this way and that through the tall, elegant trees, her worn cloak whipping around her.
“Ingen!” Malcolm bellowed.
But she either did not hear or pretended not to. Her long blond hair flew behind her. She was a blur of white and yellow.
Her father twisted in his saddle. “Do you not see, Ete?” He waved a large hand at the girl. “Can you not keep her still?”
Ete clucked her tongue at him. “If you weren’t so easy on her, she’d do what you asked.” Ingen made another circle around us, a grin broad upon her face. I wondered at the joy she felt, coming so soon after such loss.
“Ingen!” Ete called out.
The girl’s head whipped up. Smoothly, she brought her horse back in line with ours and wiggled between her mother and me.
She stared at me outright, those dark eyes flashing, so odd in a face so pale. I did not like her staring. It reminded me of my closed-in life in the castle with cold eyes on me all the time. I was free of that now. I would be left alone.
“You must’ve known they were coming,” said Sir Kenway. “The children escaped?”
“Yes, by heaven’s mercy. We’d heard rumors about kidnappings in other towns, so we set up a watch on the hill.”
“Kidnappings?”
“Someone’s taking the men from the towns,” Malcolm said, looking grim. “You’ve not heard?”
Sir Kenway was deep in thought. “Shadow, did Eldred and Fyren discuss this?”
“They said nothing of kidnappings,” I replied. “I have never heard anyone mention it.”
Malcolm snorted a laugh. “And who of the nobility would care about Northerners?” Then he glanced at Kenway as if he shouldn’t have spoken.
“You’re not Northerners,” said Sir Kenway.
Malcolm opened his mouth as if he might reply, then shut it.
I noticed Ingen, riding alongside us. Her eyes danced with amusement. “We’re all Northerners, Sir Kenway.”
Sir Kenway bristled at that.
“Go away, child,” said Malcolm.
She did as he said, but wore a small smile as she dropped back. Malcolm mumbled an apology for her rudeness. I thought the girl was very irritating, but her words were not alarming. What if she was right? It didn’t matter one way or the other.
“With the river dried up,” Malcolm continued, “we knew we were in danger of an attack from the south. When the alarm was sounded, we sent the children and their mothers and the elderly into the mountains.”
“The rest of you remained to fight?” Sir Kenway asked.
“Yes. But it didn’t end well, sir.”
They fell into a thick silence.
Ingen was back beside me, too close.
I whipped around. I couldn’t bear this girl’s scrutiny any longer. “What do you find so intriguing about my face?” I asked.
The men looked back at us. The girl shrugged, tucking her hair behind her ears with long fingers. Kenway’s eyebrows shot up, but I knew he would like this close attention no better than I. Then I remembered what he’d said to me, about me watching him and the queen. My face still warmed at the memory.
Ingen whispered something to her mother, who shot me a quick glance. “No, girl. Don’t be silly.” But she rode up to her husband and leaned her mouth to his ear.
His face grew red with anger. “You’re foolish to follow a faith that has deserted us, Ete.”
“It’s not a foolish faith!”
“Stop filling our daughter’s head with it. She’s already puffed up enough as it is.”
Ingen continued to stare at me and was not deterred by the hard looks I gave her.
The closer we drew to the village, the quieter our small group of riders became. Such misery on my companions’ faces. We arrived at the top of the hills overlooking the town. Lulle jumped down. Lifting her skirts, she ran across the stream to the only building not a pile of ashes.
“Her husband’s there,” said Malcolm. “They were wed last summer.”
As we rode across the dried-up river, her wails pierced the air. Ard put the back of his hand to his mouth. Ete wiped silent tears from her rough cheeks.
My own eyes stung. I fought the sadness.
“All will be well,” said Ingen, looking only at me.
We all gathered in the graveyard, except for Ard, who rested under a shade tree by the riverbank. He stared hard at the hills, as if there were answers there. Lulle’s husband’s body had been wrapped in her cloak and placed at the bottom of the first grave to be dug that day.
Ingen sat in the freshly turned-up dirt and sang in a clear, high voice, but in a language I didn’t recognize. I thought it might be a song of grieving, that she was mourning for her village, because I heard her sing, “Erce, Erce, Erce.”
Malcolm said a few words in memory of the dead man. Lulle knelt down and threw a handful of dry dirt atop the body. She did not yet want the grave to be filled, so we moved off a distance and gave her some peace with her husband.
“Sir Kenway, I know you’ve not heard of the kidnappings,” said Malcolm, leaning on his shovel in his dirty, blood-stained clothes. “But can you think of a reason the queen’s army would be taking the people?”
“It’s not the queen,” said Kenway, his look somber. “We’ll fight against this army when the time is right, Malcolm. We need men like you to help us.”
“Not me, sir. I think your land doesn’t want us here. We’ll be returning to the mountains. No use trying to grow things out of a ground no longer giving.”
“The mountains?” asked Kenway, surprise in his voice. “That was a hard life, you told me once.”
“And this one’s harder,” he said.
“May I have a private word with you, Malcolm?”
He nodded.
They spoke by the bank of the river. A little distance from them, I washed my hands and face in the brown shallow water.
Sir Kenway had one hand on Malcolm’s shoulder and was gesticulating with the other. He spoke with great animation. The older man shook his head vehemently. He seemed about to erupt in emotion, and I wondered if Kenway were not a knight if Malcolm would have already done so.
Ete emerged from the meetinghouse. I couldn’t see her face, but I felt her sorrow. She wore it like a cloak wrapped around her.
I hadn’t gone back to that sad place myself. I could not.
“Wife!” Malcolm called out, waving at Ete to join them.
She approached slowly. This made Malcolm impatient. He kept gesturing to her. “Come, come.”
When she reached them, she put her hands on her hips. As Sir Kenway talked, she dropped her arms and her shoulders drooped. She looked up at Malcolm.
“Foolishness!” he yelled. He glanced at Sir Kenway, then away. Sir Kenway, who was taller than Malcolm, put a hand on the older man’s shoulder. He bent his hea
d and talked to him most urgently.
At one point, the three of them all looked up together. I followed their gaze to Ingen. What was this about?
Soon after, we said our good-byes to Malcolm and the others. As we left, I glanced back at Lulle, sitting still beside her husband’s grave. A sharp pang went through me, and I almost gasped in pain. With a force of will, I pushed the feeling away and turned to look at the forest we were riding toward.
“Where are we going?” I asked Kenway. He looked deep in thought, so perhaps he hadn’t heard me. I had many questions for him. I would wait.
Ingen followed as we rode east from the village, into a second forest filled with birches. At first, I thought she would turn back, but she did not.
“Why is she following us?” I asked Kenway after a while. “Don’t you see her there?” Her pale face and clothes and white horse hid her in the silver trees.
“Why does she bother you so?” Kenway asked.
“Your mother wants you, Ingen!” I called out, wanting her to go back to Erce.
She came up beside me swiftly. Startled, I drew back, unable to get away from those dark eyes. So black and deep, like the night sky, whose mysteries no human understands.
“You need to go to Erce,” she said. “Don’t fight us.”
“Erce? We just left there. Leave me be, you strange girl.”
She leaned in, our horses almost touching. “I can help you,” she whispered. “I know what you feel.”
Shivers ran up and down my arms and neck as if a cold wind penetrated my cloak. “I feel nothing,” I told her. I didn’t need anyone’s help.
“Ah,” she said, falling back, hiding from us again.
“She’s mad, I think,” I said to Kenway’s questioning eyes. I wasn’t sure if he’d heard her words.
“You should be flattered by her attention,” he said. “She’s a priestess, of some old religion from the mountains.” But I could tell he was skeptical.
“Ha! After seeing her fight those soldiers, I think she is a warrior, or a leader of warriors. What gentle qualities does she have that would make her a priestess?”
“Some people live in a spiritual place beyond our earthly understanding.”