Emma and the Banderwigh

by Matthew S. Cox

  He hesitated. Drunken rage faded to worry. When he looked back at her, his cheeks had become ashen.

  “You… You’re Emma.” He lowered his arm and took his weight off her.

  She scooted back along the dirt and gathered her legs under her. “Yes. You know who my Da is,” Emma whispered. “Guard Captain Dalen.”

  He looked like a man who’d just killed himself. “Aye.”

  Old Man Drinn stumbled back to his stool, stooping to retrieve his bottle along the way. He sat and took a long swig. Emma fixed her dress and walked closer, hands balled into fists. The raven settled its feathers. Kimber sniffled, making no move to get up from where she had sprawled.

  “I’ll make you a deal.” She pointed at Kimber. “You stop being mean to Kimber, and I won’t tell my father you hit me.”

  He sputtered his booze. The raven tucked its beak under a wing.

  “If you hit her one more time, I’ll tell.” She went over to help the younger girl up. The start of a black eye was evident. Emma touched the spot gingerly. “I’m sorry. I asked Kavan to check on you. He visited because of me. I thought you got grabbed by bandits in the woods.”

  “Bandits? Bah,” grumbled the old man. “She’d be e’ery bit o’ useless ta them as she is here.”

  Emma shot a disgusted glare at him before her expression softened toward Kimber and she whispered, “Tell me if he hits you again.”

  Kimber’s green eyes stared off into nowhere. She trembled, afraid to look at her father or say a word. Emma wanted to cry. The same motherly feelings she had towards Tam reared up as she gathered the other girl in a hug. A whispering breeze from the woods made her look. The raven shifted into the wind, squawking at the trees. Kimber’s hand on Emma’s cheek startled her with how much the light contact hurt.

  “‘E hit ya, too.”

  “Kimber, don’t go in the woods today.”

  This is rubbish. Why am I saying that? It’ll just scare her more.

  “Nonsense! She needs to sell apples or we’ll starve.”

  Emma glared at the bottle. “You don’t buy food with it, anyway.”

  He wobbled to his feet, and staggered at her with a menacing fist. Emma thrust her chin out.

  “One more step, and I’ll scream for the guards.” She squinted. “You’re an awful man. I’ll not let you hurt her anymore.”

  Kimber jumped between them, arms wrapped around her father. “Papa, no. I love ya. I’s ‘kay. I’s sorrys if’n I’s been bad. I’ll go pickin’.”

  The girl pushed him back until he tripped and fell, seated, on the stool. She picked up the bottle and handed it to him. Emma shook her head, and collected the bundle of herbs from where she had dropped it.

  Kimber found her basket and went for the gate. “Wha’s wrong wif ‘a woods?”

  Emma ducked out of the yard, waiting for Kimber to follow and close the fence. “Bad feeling; it’s just a silly story from Nan.”

  Kimber wore an unreadable expression for a moment, and set off in the direction of the apple trees. Emma did not like the way the woods felt, but she couldn’t believe there was a monster out there. Just a silly story. Bandits wouldn’t bother with a girl like Kimber; she did not look like her family had any money.

  Old Man Drinn stared at Emma. Something in his eyes sent a chill through her. He swigged from his drink again, the slosh and pthunk of his lips breaking the seal at the narrow neck seemed far louder than it ought to have. He smiled at her and raised the bottle in toast.

  A man like that might not feel any guilt about making a girl like her disappear to save his life.

  other whirled at the sound of the door slamming. Emma leaned against it, eyes closed and out of breath from running most of the way through the village on her way home. As if Old Man Drinn had not been scary enough, she could not help but feel something watched her the whole way.

  “Em!” Mother ran over. “Did you get into a fight with that Cooper boy again?”

  Emma winced at the finger poking her cheek. “No, Mama.”

  “His mother promised me he wouldn’t tease you anymore.”

  “It wasn’t Rydh, Mama.” She cringed away from the examination. “I bloodied his nose. He doesn’t bother me anymore.”

  Mother pointed at a chair and took the herb bundle. Emma hung her head and trudged to the indicated seat, swinging her legs back and forth for a short while as Mother puttered around by the cabinets. Emma looked up when Mother’s dress appeared in front of her. A gentle hand settled atop her head, twisting her sideways to get a clear look at the bruise. Emma grabbed the seat of the chair, emitting a long squealing whine as a freezing cold, slimy cloth pressed over the hurt. The scent of earthy moss made her cough.

  “What happened?”

  “I promised I wouldn’t tell Da.”

  Mother pressed into the soaked burlap, ensuring it sat evenly over her face. “You promised not to tell Da. You can tell your mother.”

  Emma stared at the ceiling, face growing numb. Mother did have a point, she had only promised Drinn not to tell her father. “Old Man Drinn hit me.”

  The look on Mother’s face darkened, scaring her; she had never seen such anger in those eyes. “That bastard.”

  Emma grasped Mother’s wrist with both hands. “He was hittin’ on Kimber. I told him to stop.” She explained everything. “I told him I’d not tell if he’d stop hitting her.”

  Mother cradled Emma to her chest, stroking her hair. “Men like that don’t listen to what women say, and they certainly don’t like threats from little ones.” Emma sniffled as Mother kissed her head. “I’m proud of you, Em―however, you made a promise you shouldn’t keep. He’s going to be angry with Kimber for what you did.”

  “She didn’t― That’s stupid! But―”

  “Don’t worry. Your father won’t be involved.” Emma looked up, confused. “Your promise won’t be broken. Now, go fetch your brother. It’s almost time to eat.”

  Mother released her hug and peeled the now-dry cloth from her cheek. Emma thought it odd that the slimy paste had dried to crumbles so fast, but paid it little mind as she scampered off the chair for the back door. She caught herself on the doorjamb by the rear alcove, and snuck a glimpse over her shoulder. Mother stomped right for her special cabinet, intent on something and muttering. Any trace of kindness had fled from the woman’s face. Most of the words loud enough for Emma to hear made her blush.

  Emma slipped through the door, enjoying the cool evening breeze on her face and the fragrance of hyacinth. Her cheek no longer hurt, even when she touched it. She crept up to the well, squatting by a puddle to use it as a mirror―no bruise. The oddity of that added to the eerie feeling emanating from the distant forest. Something was still there, watching her out of the dark. Fear made her stand straight.

  “Tam?” she whispered.

  Fireflies zoomed about the meadow grass between the house and the woods. There was no sign of her little brother.

  “Tam?” she said, almost at normal speaking volume.

  Worry for her younger sibling pushed aside her irrational fear of Nan’s faerie monsters, and she ran into the field, looking left and right.

  “Tam!” she yelled with building desperation. “Tam? Where are you?”

  Grass whipped at her legs as she sprinted in the direction of a weak cry. It sounded like Tam yelling for help. Had she been wrong? Was Nan’s creature real? Had it released Hannah only to take him?

  No! It wasn’t after Kimber. Tam’s even littler.

  “Tam!” her voice was a barely recognizable screech by the time she reached the tree line. “Tam?” You’re being silly. There are no monsters.He’s just lost.

  She kept sight of home over one shoulder as she stepped with caution through the underbrush. The oppressive dread seeping from the woods around her made it impossible to run in a blind panic.

  “Emma!”

  Tam’s voice seemed to come from everywhere. When he cried out again, she moved as fast as the knee-deep brush
would allow.

  Hands cupped to her mouth, she yelled. “Where are you?”

  She found a narrow trail and jogged along it for a moment. The sound of Tam’s voice grew quiet again, and she slowed, walking through a gradual spin. A twig snap made her whirl, half-expecting to see Kimber’s father coming after her with a sword. That had to be it. Old Man Drin had kidnapped Tam to lure her deep into the woods where he could kill her.

  “Tam!” she shrieked, shaking from worry.

  A group of five wolves emerged from the darkness, pale yellow eyes unblinking. She went stiff, too frightened to tremble. The lead wolf sniffed at the air; he was large enough for her to ride like a horse, with fur that shimmered from pale grey to charcoal as it moved. To his right and a little behind, a jet-black wolf almost as large locked eyes with her. The other three grey-furred wolves sniffed at the air.

  The sight of the predators made Tam’s silence terrifying. Had the wolves gotten him?

  Home was too far away to see. Every direction looked the same. If she ran the wrong way, they would catch her. Even if she went straight home, they still would overrun her. She backed up, gasping when she stepped in a cold patch of water. The lead wolf kept her pace. Two others circled to the right, emitting a keening cry only loud enough for the sound to reach her.

  Emma kept her hands low, trying to act non-threatening as she crept backwards. She bumped into a tree, stumbled around it, and lost her balance after scraping her foot on a sharp, unseen rock. Her rearward crab-walk was not fast enough to keep the big wolf away. It stalked after her as she scurried against another tree. The other four swept around in a circle, stopping less than an arm’s length from her. The black wolf came up alongside him, and the pair seemed to stare right through her.

  Hot breath washed over her neck and chest; a cold nose touched her throat. She clenched handfuls of dirt as she braced for the end of her life. The wolf snorted and turned away. Emma sat stiff as a headstone against the tree, paralyzed with terror and confusion as the wolves receded.

  After a minute of silence, she risked moving enough to look around.

  She curled up, knees to face, and let herself shiver away the energy her body summoned in response to fear. Darkness shifted to the right―something seemed to lurk there, watching. Careful not to make a sound, she stood. The largest of the wolves emerged from a shadow twenty paces away, still staring at her. Emma leaned back, eyes wide.

  It’s playing with me. Does it want me to run so it can chase?

  It sent a pointed glance in another direction and backed out of sight.

  Nothing but trees waited where it had looked. She swallowed, crossing her arms over her chest in a futile attempt to stop shaking. When she did not move, the large wolf leaned into view again, baying at her and snorting in the same direction. Emma stopped trembling, confused by the odd way the animal behaved. She looked again, seeing nothing but trees and shadow. When she turned back, the wolf was gone. It was too strange to ignore. Emma went in the direction the animal seemed to be telling her to go. Expecting the pack to be on her heels, she ran hard. Trees flashed by. She held her arms up to shield her face from low-hanging branches, and called out for her brother again.

  Not far from where a huge wolf had almost devoured her, she collided with her little brother, who was sprinting towards her at full speed. They slapped together, chest to chest, her greater size knocking him flat as they went rolling on the ground. Right away, he burst into red-faced wailing.

  Emma sat up, shook off her dizziness, and crawled to him. He looked as though he’d gone for a frolic in a thistleberry bush. She picked half-inch prickly spheres out of his tunic and hair, wincing whenever the needles bloodied her fingertips. As soon as he was free of thistles, she clamped him in a hug, patting his back and rubbing until he stopped crying.

  “Tam, you know better than to go into the woods alone.”

  He sniffled. “You scared too? Fraid of da Bandy-wee?”

  “Of course not.” She grumbled. “Come on, get up. We’re late for dinner.”

  She took him by the hand and pulled him along. The narrow trail led to the forest edge, and the welcome sight of home on the other side of a meadow full of fireflies. Mother’s silhouette filled the back door. Coldness fell over Emma from behind. This time, even Tam shivered and held on. Emma glanced over her shoulder at the pitch-black woods. Branches waved in the breeze amid the rustles and snaps of what she hoped were animals. She backed up, finding herself scared to turn away from the trees.

  “Emma, Tam!” shouted Mother from far away. “Where’ve you been? Come in this instant.”

  She trusted her mother, broke her stare with the trees, and ran for the house, almost dragging Tam off his feet. Hair flying, dress whipping, she tried to outrun the feeling that something chased her.

  ith her parents added to the bed, Emma had little room to move. She lay on her side, pressed into the wall below the windowsill with Tam at her back. His breaths washed warm over her neck. Mother’s arm covered them both. Blue moonlight filtered in through the window, creating a patch on the wall that lit the room enough to see every lurking shadow. Sleep had come in short stints, though she had not yet dreamed of giant spiders. Tree-shadows clawed at the glass, occasionally startling her. Tam had not noticed how frightened she was while they ran home. Was that Old Man Drinn hiding in the woods, waiting to get her back? Was it an Emerald Creeper?

  It certainly couldn’t be a Banderwigh.

  Father had talked on and off for months about building on to the side of the house, adding a new room for them. The idea of having her own room, like Nan, had made her feel grown up and important. Tonight, she was happy he’d forgotten about it. A shadow moved, as though a man passed by the window. Emma shot upright, gripping the cold wood by the wavy glass. There was no one there. Tam whimpered in his sleep as she settled back down. Minutes passed in silent stillness. Nan’s tale of the creature filled her head with worry.

  She grumped, arms folded, chiding herself for letting such a foolish story get under her skin. No matter how angry she tried to make herself, the feeling of a dark presence watching her remained. It was as though something was in the room behind her, staring. Was that why she awoke in the middle of the night? She squeezed her mother’s arm, unconsciously trembling. Mother muttered in her sleep, pulling her children tight to her. Emma felt silly all over again for believing in such tales, and closed her eyes.

  Again, she found herself awake, but it was still dark. She sighed, stretching her legs and trying to get comfortable. Tam prodded her in the back. Now, she realized why she’d woken up. The little one poked her in the ribs again. She ignored him. After another few pokes, a wet finger found her right ear.

  “Tam,” she hissed over her shoulder, wiping her ear. “Go to sleep.”

  He shifted closer, his breath on her cheek. “I haveta pee, an I’m not s’posed to go outside alone. Papa’s too sleeped.”

  “Use the chamber pot,” mumbled Emma.

  “You dropped it, member.” Tam simulated a disgusting splatter noise. “Down’a privy.”

  She’d been too eager to help Mother, offering to take the awful thing out back and dump it before she realized how bad it really smelled. In her haste to be rid of the mess, she’d lost her grip. Father had yet to buy another one.

  Emma squirmed around to lie on her back, wedging herself tighter between her brother and the wall. She eased Mother’s arm away and sat up, wiping crumbs from her eyes. Father’s usual snoring had quieted, and her mother’s pleasant smile hinted at a wonderful dream. Tam stood up on the bed and walked to the end, climbing over the storage trunk to the floor. He went to the back door and waited there in his skivvies, unable to stand still. After another breath, she crawled to the edge of the bed with care, so as not to disturb her sleeping parents. The icy floor made her shiver and wonder at how her brother could stand there with nary more than a strip of cloth around him. Her nightgown was longer than her favorite dress, going down to her shins
. Devoid of holes, the thick, white cotton was also warmer.

  She climbed up on a stool to reach a lantern, setting it on the table before lighting it. After closing the little glass door, she gathered her brother’s tunic and borrowed Nan’s shawl, which she wrapped around herself. Tam raised his arms as she pulled the garment over him and tugged it into place. He bounced with urgency. Emma opened the back door, held his hand, and raised the lantern over her head.

  A path of irregular stones led in a twisty curve to the privy shack. The old, dark forest gleamed with patches of white-azure in the unearthly light of a full moon. Less than a hundred yards past the outhouse, the edge of Widowswood flickered with strange spots of glow. Nan called them Faerie Lights. Emma figured they were bugs, like fireflies, only bigger and afraid of people. She hesitated, watching them drift back and forth with motion quite unlike insects. After Nan’s story, and with the strange mood in the air, she was not so sure.

  Tam tilted his head up to look at her when her grip on his hand tightened. Thick brown hair circled his face. He gave her an inquiring stare, then bounced a few times and grabbed himself. Emma brushed aside her fear and extended one tentative foot toward the path.

  “Gah,” she whispered, as she found out just how cold the stones were at night. “So much for the start of summer.”

  She pulled him along by the arm in an ungainly run intended to minimize how long her feet had to touch the freezing rocks. A few seconds later, they halted by the small outhouse. Emma let go of his hand to open the rickety door. Tam leapt through and tugged at the handle. He put a hand on her chest when she went to follow him in. She cast an uneasy glance at the woods. The pure white nightdress glowed in the moonlight, a beacon that left her feeling vulnerable.

  “Pi-vate,” he said, pulling the door shut and locking it in her face.

  Never mind that three or so hours ago, they had shared a bathtub. Emma squinted, not wanting to show fear of being out alone at night. Nan’s story had gotten to her. She held the lantern up, free arm across her chest in a vain attempt to stifle the shivering. The old one was only trying to scare her. There was no such thing as child-stealing monsters that came out of the woods at night. Still, she would have rather been inside a space with a locked door.