A Stag in the Shadows

by S E Turner

  'No, I've lost my appetite,' he winced.

  'Go to your room then, no one wants to see that disgusting face when they are eating.'

  Moira breathed out deeply between flared nostrils. She would take a bowl of soup into him when the guards had gone. Then she would see to his wounds. Poor man. Coben would definitely hear about this.

  Chapter Twenty

  Coben arrived at his usual hour, but this time he carried a parcel in one hand and a bag of weapons in the other.

  'I have something for you,' he said. A broad grin covering most of his face.

  'Is it a gift?' she asked excitedly.

  'Sort of,' he said.

  She opened the parcel with dextrose fingers, and a green velvet doublet was presented to her with a golden stag embroidered on the breast. A pair of soft brown breeches accompanied it, and a gold half-cape, fastened with a jewel encrusted moth completed the ensemble.

  'These are beautiful Coben, thank you so much.' She held them up to her nose to smell the freshness of the weave.

  'I am glad you like them. I had them specially made for you.'

  'They are exquisite, shall I put them on now? '

  'Please do.' Coben gestured to her as he turned around to secure the grill and the base of the door.

  She shielded herself behind the screen and peeled herself out of the long stiff dress and layers of petticoats. Coben heard the rustle of discarded garments, and smiled as he sealed the door. Immediately, the new clothes felt soft and comfortable against her skin, and when she stepped out in her new attire, he looked at her admiringly. 'You look perfect,' and nodded in approval.

  'My daughter loved moths.' The words spilled out of his mouth unguarded.

  'You have a daughter?' She looked aghast.

  'I do, she would be about twenty years old now.'

  'What is her name?'

  'Lace.'

  'That's a beautiful name.'

  He smiled with pride.

  'Where is she. Does she live here with you?'

  The smile vanished. A heavy burden returned. The lines on his face deepened. Saskia remained quiet.

  'No she doesn't. I don't know where she is.'

  Saskia suddenly felt uncomfortable, she had opened up old wounds.

  Coben was lost in thought for a few moments, then suddenly remembered why he was there in the first place.

  'Here catch this.' He threw the wooden weapon at her.

  She missed it, her unprepared weak body buckled forward with the weight of the thing.

  'I'm sorry. '

  He didn't know what she was sorry for and his face softened again.

  'That, Saskia, is twice the weight of a metal sword. And that's why you have to train with this and find your footing. By practising with this heavier weight, you will become stronger, more developed and more agile when you fight.'

  Saskia closed her hands around the leather bound grips and lifted it into the air. Her muscles began to twitch in response to the magnificent weapon in her possession.

  'Remember that a sword is an extension of its master,' said Coben. 'And accuracy is more vital than power.' He watched Saskia getting used to the weapon as he paced about room.

  'We will be practising manoeuvres such as thrusting, cutting and slicing. Only then will you become an elite fighting machine. The intelligent swordsman survives; the careless and the ignorant die, it's as simple as that.'

  He took up his own sword and felt the weighted implement in his hands. 'It's what you feel and how you think remember.'

  He waited for her to nod in agreement.

  'Stand like me; upright, strong, in control, legs balanced, shoulders square, eyes forward.'

  Coben stood in front of her and demonstrated the opening stance. He watched his student loosen her shoulders, realign her hips and reposition her feet.

  'Swipe the air in a figure of eight,' he instructed.

  The heavy sword became even heavier in movement, and he could see her struggling .

  'I feel like I am holding a dead person,' she said querulously. 'Stiff and impossible to move.'

  He laughed out loud.

  'Proficiency comes with experience remember. Focus on your muscles, feel them move around your bones, work with the tendons, they are the elastic hinges that guide you.'

  Saskia frowned and loosened her grip. She swung the sword, trying to hold it fluidly like Coben had shown her. The sword whirled out of her hands and Coben just managed to duck as it came hurtling towards him.

  'Whoa there!' Coben stood up again and looked to where the sword had impaled itself.

  'I'm no good at this.' Saskia shook her head in dismay.

  'Nonsense, you just need practice.'

  She took a deep breath to refocus. She knew she was was using up too much energy and was tiring quickly.

  Coben handed her the weapon.

  She took it reluctantly. 'I will never be able to fight well, perhaps I should just give up now.'

  'I didn't take you for a defeatist Saskia.'

  She looked at the tightness in his face.

  'I'm not.'

  'So are we ready to start again?'

  She nodded her head.

  'Move your legs, sway into the action, imagine you have no constraints, you are in charge of your own body. Keep moving your arms.' The tutor wasn't giving up on his pupil.

  Saskia realigned her body and channelled the energy into her limbs. She felt the muscles tighten and that gave her encouragement.

  'Good, I can see the difference already' Coben praised her. 'Move the sword slowly, very slowly. No one got anywhere by taking huge leaps too quickly. Prepare the body and let it learn and develop.'

  She curved the weapon and let it become an exertion of her arm, it actually started doing what she wanted.

  After an hour, the girl shouted out. 'Look! look! I can do it, look at me, I can do it now,' and paraded round the room for the weary instructor to see.

  He was impressed. 'Let's see what you can do with it then.'

  She cocked her head in surprise.

  'No time like the present is there?' he continued.

  He swung his sword into the starting position, his focus encouraged Saskia to do the same. With a twist of both wrists he brought his weapon down on Saskia's defensive cut back swing. She retreated and refocused, managing to block again, but the weight of her sword dragged her over. Coben lunged forward forcing Saskia to prevent an overhead blow. They stood together, swords attached.

  'Channel your energy Saskia; think, feel survive. Because your life depends on it,' his whisper seeped through the locked hilts.

  Saskia took hold of the sword. She was an amateur in an expert's clothing, she knew that. Her muscles felt stiff, everything was heavy. She had to find her strength from somewhere. Vlavos came into her mind .

  'You can do this Saskia, you are a warrior, remember that.'

  She shook her head and focused.

  Coben came at her, the pointed edge was aimed at her heart, but she was light on her feet and leapt away. He came at her again, jousting, stabbing and dancing around her. She swayed and tousled with him, almost teasing him now, anticipating his movements and always one step ahead.

  'Accuracy is more vital than power,' she said to herself again.

  Still he came at her and knocked the sword from her hand. She went to pick it up. He stood on it.

  'That's enough for today Saskia, I want you to practise what we have learned. Feel the instrument, practise the moves. We have plenty of time remember, there is no rush.'

  The next month, the tutor embarked on a new strategy. 'Feel your surroundings Saskia, smell the air that makes you strong, listen to the breeze outside the window, touch the walls that empower you, wait for the earth to guide you.'

  Saskia switched on her senses and intuition. 'Feel the magic of the earth, feel its power, for it is greater than anything you will ever know.' Coben rang out his instructions.

  The room became an incredible mix of vib
rations and sounds in their dark compact world, with only a few pores of sunlight seeping through the opening of the window. This room was now alive with a beating heart.

  'Now, with the weapon as your guide, listen and feel, and stretch your imagination. For, if you don't engage with your surroundings, you can never be master of your craft. '

  Saskia didn't need to see what was around her, she could feel it. She could taste the power from the hardened rock and let it slide down the back of her throat into the bowels of her stomach, and held it there as a powerful ball of energy.

  She felt the strength in the blade. Her fingers curled and spread with added vigour. She flexed her arm with power. She knew the importance of the senses now.

  The next day she practised on her own, and the day after that. Hour after hour, day after day, moving with the rising sun and the phases of the moon while the shadows in the room changed with the time. The prison was her nemesis now, the bars even more so; for they challenged her and trained her hunger to survive. She was going through a metamorphosis herself, she was changing. Like the moth that had symbolised her freedom, she was turning into a warrior. She always had the grill covered now, for fear of prying eyes. There was always a sheet under the door.

  Meredith believed her when Saskia said it was for privacy, in case someone watched her while she slept. And after what Coben had told her about the king's intentions, part of it was true. But it was mainly so that no one would see her transform from a tiny insignificant caterpillar, into a magnificent Empress Moth.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Over a year had passed. It was winter in Break Pass Ridge. Their second winter now, and it wasn't any easier. The great stone flanks of the mine hid the straining sun for most of the day; so it felt even colder than it should have been. Icy fingers of water clung to eaves and crevasses, and the breath of workers and beasts sent clouds of steam into the freezing December air. On this crisp bitter morning Moira left her hut to check on the supplies of food. She could feel the ice cold flakes land softly on her face, while the crystalizing snow and frozen ice crunched beneath her feet. The biting air chafed against her skin so she wrapped her woollen shawl tighter, and pulled a rabbit fur hat over her ears. Round a corner a ghostly shadow approached, and through a haze of misty condensation she could tell who it was immediately.

  'Coben, I am so glad to see you.'

  'And I am glad to see you dear lady. I am just checking that everything is order, but I can tell that something other than the cold is worrying you.'

  She warmed her hands on a serpent of flames in the metal drum. She looked up at him. His eyes pressed her for an answer.

  'It's Tiller.'

  'What's happened now?' His voice bristled.

  'He had another beating yesterday. That's on top of the ones he had last week, and the week before that. They are becoming too frequent now. I know that Tiller is a young man, but he just doesn't have the strength to do his workload anymore. And then Yurg punishes him for slacking.' The anger in her face was superseded by the sting in her eyes.

  'Okay Moira, I've heard enough, and I know what Yurg is like. He appears to be getting worse, and I have been thinking about this for some time.'

  'Thank goodness you have noticed.'

  'Yes, and I have a plan. But you have to help me Moira. Only you and I can know about this.'

  'Okay, what's your plan?'

  Coben looked deep into her eyes, searching for the trust and compliance.

  'He escapes.'

  'What?'

  Her reaction was not what he expected.

  'Moira, what did you want me to do? Have a word with Yurg. Talk to Bryn? I have tried. It hasn't worked.'

  'Can you talk to the king? That might be easier.'

  'I can't. It would raise suspicion. I am taking a risk helping Saskia as I do. '

  'How are you helping Saskia?'

  'I talk to her. I send messages between her and her father. I cannot go to the king. It is out of the question, he is suspicious of everything as it is.'

  'How are we going to get him out then?' Moira was suddenly very uneasy and regretting divulging her fears.

  'I will get some sleeping nightshade, it's easy to do. The king has loads of it in his apartment.'

  Moira creased her brow into a question.

  'It helps him sleep,' came the answer.

  'What will you do?' her head tilted.

  'I will prepare some and put it in a flagon. One for Yurg and one for Bryn. I will then bring them over at first light and leave them out with the other flagons.'

  'Then what?'

  'You fill them up with their daily soup.'

  'How will I know which ones have the nightshade in?' Her voice quivered.

  'I will put a mark on the bottom of the flagon, you must look for that. So when they come for their soup in the morning, you give them the correct container.'

  Moira sighed and shook her head slowly.

  'Can you do that for me?'

  She sighed again. 'I think so.'

  'Are you okay?' His voice was soft.

  'Yes, I am okay, just a little nervous. What if the king sees you? What if Yurg and Bryn see you?' She shook her head. 'I'm not sure about this. Everyone will be punished. Is it worth the risk?'

  'You tell me Moira.'

  He waited for her answer, but she was torn .

  'No other escapees have the king's guard on their side, now do they?' He pressed.

  She shook her head.

  'You have to trust me,' he said.

  She nodded in response.

  'Everything will be fine. I promise you.'

  He took her hand.

  She smiled up at him.

  'Now, is Tiller confined to his quarters at the moment?'

  'Yes he is.'

  'Good. You must keep him there.'

  'Then what?'

  'When the guards are asleep, you get Tiller up on his feet. I will bring a horse round and leave it behind your sheds. I will unlock the fence entrance, it's the only way to get him out. I will bring warm clothes, so he is more protected in this freezing weather, plus he will be camouflaged like a guard. You have to get him changed and up onto the horse.'

  'Coben, we are risking our lives here. What if the guards see me?'

  'The other guards will be watching the other workers, and they won't be suspicious when they see a guard on a horse.'

  'But they might notice the fence unlocked.'

  'They won't; the entrance is behind your shed, that's our saving grace here, no one will see him go.'

  She nodded in agreement. 'What will you do then?'

  'I will lock the gate again, to make sure its secure, and then I will make tracks in the forest. It will look like he went through there rather than over the fence. It won't be difficult in this hostile environment.'

  'Then what?'

  'I will return castle and pay my daily visit to the king. I play cards with him in the afternoon.'

  'Every afternoon?'

  'Yes, every afternoon; we read, or play board games, or look at maps. We talk, we drink. There's always something to do.'

  She looked at him through caring eyes. 'I knew there was something different about you the first time I set eyes on you.'

  'And I knew there was something different about you Moira. That's why you were more use to me than a lady of the manor.' He kissed her hand.

  She dipped a smile and shook her head. 'Who'd have thought it eh.' The thoughts took her back to the homestead. 'Hopefully someone will be at the farm to take care of him.' She was appealing to the gods now. 'But he knows his way around, even if he goes to the parsonage for help.'

  'That's what I am hoping too.'

  'I will pack some food for him.'

  'That's a good idea, he will need nourishment for the journey and a flagon of soup.'

  'Thank you for this Coben.'

  'This is just phase one of my master plan.'

  'Master plan? What are you going to do?'
r />   'I'm going to get all of you out of here.'

  Her mouth dropped to the floor, and her brows turned into the question again. 'Why are you helping us Coben?'

  He looked over her shoulder as if he was searching for something on the brow of the hill. The mountain range crowned the vista and immediately it was moving towards him, bringing his past closer and closer until a vast wall of ice was right in front of him. He was standing on the edge of a great sharp precipice and below him was his life, spread out like interchanging daggers. A sea of motion awash in the colours of his memories. He breathed in the spectacle that was teasing out old wounds; stabbing and tearing and wrenching them apart until they all began to resurface. Suddenly he felt a grip of panic and a previous life was exposed. Tears pricked his eyes and tumbled down his cheeks. Moira went to comfort him. He composed himself and forced the memory out into the open.

  'Many years ago, I was a seafarer, a traveller who would sail the oceans, docking onto foreign lands in search of gold, silver and other treasures. Sometimes I was away for months. This time, the last time, I was away for years.'

  Moira watched his breath coil into the hungry air.

  'One day, my family were taken, along with many others, to work for the Emperor of Ataxata. And although the conditions there were slightly more favourable than they are here, they were still captives.'

  'How did you find out where they were?'

  'When I sailed back into our kingdom, I went to my village straight away. I had gifts for my wife and my children. I bought a beautiful moth pendant for Lace,' he smiled at the memory and looked at Moira. 'She loved moths.'

  Moira smiled at the sentiment.

  'But my home wasn't there anymore, it was a ruin. Blackened timber, silver grey walls, soil like rock. There was hardly any life at all.'

  'Like ours you mean.'

  He nodded his head in shame.

  'Some travellers were passing through. I asked them what had happened. They told me how the General had rounded everyone up, taking the older boys for his Killing Games, and taking the adults to work for him. I asked where it was. They told me it was in Ataxata.'

  He looked beyond the mountain range again, where his memories relived the painful story.