Trembling, Ba Set fought to contain her awareness as the song of the earth burned up against her throat, pushing, building, and crying out to be voiced. Her body shook, tipped on the edge of control, but she held her ground and with her next breath drew in more of the pulsing, roaring heat.
She raised her arms to the sky. The power increased, surging in the narrow confines of the throat, demanding escape. She clenched her jaw for a moment more, her whole body engulfed in heat. Then when she could hold it back no longer, Ba Set opened her mouth and, with a mighty word of power, released the surging heat out into the night sky.
She leapt into the air.
The wind felt cool and sweet, the night air clear. A pinion feather dipped and stretched combing the currents. She turned effortlessly, catching a strong updraft spiralling above the trees, her magnificent black wingspan moving barely a whisper.
In her eagle form, the shapeshifter gazed down at the forest spreading out far beneath her - her keen sight able to discern each bright line of energy emanating from each living thing. A vast web, illuminated with every foraging insect, every creature that scurried, every tree that stretched its roots far beneath the surface of the earth. It was a pattern glowing with life.
Her wings beat slowly. Her golden eyes flickered. Movement stumbled, as far below a large figure crashed through the undergrowth. Tey, blundering along, was stopping and starting like a confused, overgrown mouse, and the bright aura of his spirit was being trailed by the usual gaggle of childish over excitable sprites.
Ba Set circled slowly, silently watching as he narrowly missed the last turning point, and stopped, cursing in frustration. She dipped lower. He took a deep wavering breath, and leaned towards the larger of the luminous spirits that surrounded him. They appeared to be arguing, the sprite streaming lines of agitation into the air. Abruptly Tey turned and stomped away, showering great sparks of temper as he went. After a few more steps he stopped and bent over, his hands furiously scraping leaves off the path to reveal the stone marker hidden beneath.
The eagle’s keen eyes flickered as she circled once more, then with a strong beat of her powerful wings, she swooped down over the trees above him, crying out once before flying on into the night.
✽✽✽
‘You could have helped me!’ Tey watched as the dark shape soared away, each wing beat blocking the glow of the stars. Resentment clutched at his throat. ‘You could have waited!’ Furious, he stamped his foot, his eyes stinging with bitter tears.
He dropped his shoulders and sighed, turning to look for Gimbal. The fat faery lay floating in the air ahead, his big silly face gazing at the path with a satisfied grin. Running to catch up, Tey grabbed his friend’s hand. At least now he knew that home, and more importantly dinner, was not much further away and that was a huge relief.
He’d missed his way, like any brain-addled fool. ‘But it wasn’t my fault,’ Tey muttered to himself. The forest path wound its way through the forest, as though it didn't care if a young traveller became lost or confused by its frustrating, twisted turnings. Tey rubbed his eyes tiredly; there was a more direct route home but he had missed it. He had been so frightened by the strange lone knight that he had run past the start entirely.
Scowling, Tey clenched the eagle amulet around his neck. Why didn’t his mother ever come to help him, instead of always leaving him to find his own way by himself? It wasn’t fair, he sighed, his flare of resentment dying away to a resigned exhaustion.
Eyes down, the young boy let go of the necklace and trudged along the narrow track, his way lit by the light of the faeries shining above. Reaching a small rise, he stopped. Floating overhead in the trees, Gimbal was grinning in triumph, his large bald head like a beacon against the dark sky.
Tey frowned, puzzled, as one of his friend’s twiglike fingers was inching, worm like, in the air, pointing in the direction of a large clearing half hidden in the trees.
Home.
Smiling in relief, Tey waved the troops on, but the leaves overhead merely fluttered, empty.
‘Where are you?’ he whispered.
The air quivered as a translucent being materialised, hovering above the ground, its small body radiating a gentle glow under the trees. However, before he could even take a step forward towards it, the faery raised its twig thin arm in a wave and winked out like a light.
‘Oh don’t go,’ Tey cried, whirling around in the sudden darkness. It was like a signal, as at once a cascade of shining beings streamed from the heights of the forest, their silky hair glistening behind them. Laughing, Tey reached into his pocket for his wooden flute, eager to begin another merry spinning dance. But as he raised the instrument to his lips, each incandescent being vanished into darkness.
‘Please don’t go. She’s nowhere near, you saw her.’
Tey sighed in defeat. This edge of trees, with their smooth bark and soft green leaves, seemed to mark some kind of invisible boundary the faery never, ever crossed. His mother terrified them and no matter how much he begged and cajoled them to stay, nothing could entice them one single step closer to the camp. Not even another spinning dance.
Tey looked up into the glittering sky. Why hadn’t Gimbal stayed around to say goodbye? Hugging himself, Tey waited in the darkness for a few moments longer before turning with a shrug and trudging down towards the camp. A low branch blocked the path in front, and beyond it he could see the top of the old oak tree that protected the camp from view. Clearing the branch, Tey was hurrying on when without warning, it sprung back, giving him a sharp whack.
‘Ow!’ Tey whirled around.
Gimbal popped into view, a delighted smirk splitting his face.
‘I’ll get you for that!’ Tey yelled, shaking his fist in mock fury. He stopped. ‘Hey, come into the camp with me. You’re not scared, are you?’ he taunted.
But Gimbal only shook his great bald head and with a final tumbling bow, disappeared in a burst of sparks that streaked, crackling up into the night. What a show off. Grinning, Tey ran down the grassy slope and into the camp beyond. He was ravenous and already he could catch the unmistakable, delicious warmth of dinner.
The dwellings faced each other across the clearing, each one nestling close to the trunk of a tree. Constructed from pieces of fallen timber, they seemed as much a part of the woods as the shadowed outlines of the undergrowth. Tey skidded to a walk as he came to the largest hut built around the foot of the oak. His stomach rumbled.
First some dinner, then he would give his father the pouch of spice.
The cooking fire was piled into a bed of glowing red embers. A blackened pot hung from the tripod. Tey breathed in. The rich scent of meat and broth filled his nostrils making his mouth water. He glanced around hopefully, but no movement or calls of greeting heralded him from any of the other huts. He shrugged; he should’ve known.
Turning back to the fire, Tey lifted off the lid with a stick and peered inside, inhaling the thick rich aroma. The night was dark and he was alone in the immense silence of the forest, but he took no notice. For the whole of his young life his family had lived under the trees, far from the watchful eyes of the Lord’s men, coming and going as carefully and as cunningly as any wild creature of the forest.
Tey sat down on a wooden bench and ate slowly, dipping his spoon for a dumpling that bobbed lazily in the fatty broth. He sighed and took another mouthful, happy to be home at last, safe, far from the stink and confusion of the town, and far from the knight shouting threats at him from beneath the trees.
Tey froze. ‘What have I done?’ He moaned as the images of the tortured, swinging remains he’d seen that morning, flared in horror in his mind.
Do not be seen… Slowly Tey placed his half eaten bowl on the bench, his appetite gone.
The trees encircling the clearing trembled as a breeze caught the leaves. Beyond them, the forest waited, dark and peaceful in the night. An owl hooted, but no wild-eyed knight crashed through the undergrowth, nor howled any slavering, red-eyed dog
hot on the scent of trespass. All was calm.
Swallowing, Tey’s fears eased down a notch.
At least I have the spice, Tey thought, scrapping out the remains of his dinner. This spice would save his father’s life, it would give back his sunny strength and once well enough, his father would again take him out into the forest and show him the secret ways of the fox and the hare.
His heart now bursting with hope, Tey watched as the heat of the fire writhed with the glowing, undulating beings playing in the embers. Nothing bad will happen. His father was the best woodsman in all the forest, everyone knew that, and all Tey had ever wished for was to track the wild deer, charm the birds from the sky, and to live his life in freedom under the trees forever. With that thought, he rose from the fire and turned into the hut to sleep.
✽✽✽
Straining with every muscle and wing, and with his heart surging in exultation, Tey dreamt he was flying, the wild folk by his side. His head forward and his arms outstretched, he swooped fast through the sky, the forest a blur of dark green beneath. Just ahead, glimpses of dark black flashed through the trees, just out of reach.
Tey fought to catch up, to pass, to win. Then without warning his flight faltered and with a great shriek he fell tumbling out of the sky, the far distant stars glittering high above.
His bed thudded as Tey fell back into his body with a jerk, and his eyes flew open. He reached for his blanket and shifted position, and could hear out of the quiet a heavy rhythmic thud and a low murmur of voices.
Shyly, Tey peeked out from under the covers.
His parents were on their own bed, silhouetted against the greying sky that seeped in through the cracks of the hut. His mother, back in her human form, was naked - save for a drape of cloth tied around her shoulders, shielding her from the dawn chill. She was pounding vigorously with a large wooden pestle. Clouds of amber dust, rich and pungent, cut into the early morning air.
Tey licked his lips, then grimaced as a sharp bitter taste filled his senses.
Pausing, Ba Set added a pinch, then stirring carefully, poured in a small amount of water while his father lay beside her calmly watching, his head a mass a dark curls with a streak of grey at the temples.
‘How long, my beloved? You have already stretched my allotted life for years beyond belief.’
Ba Set stopped mixing and gazed at her husband with eyes full of a fierce possessive love. ‘Time will not take you from me,’ she murmured. ‘No matter the length of years, they will always be too short for me.’ Ba Set’s golden eyes held her husband’s for a heartbeat. She looked away and spooned a mixture of spice into a large wooden mug before adding a measure of water. Stirring the contents twice, and careful so as not to spill a drop, Ba Set handed her husband the cup.
Hew hesitated before accepting the spice mixture. He held the cup carefully in his hand and, with a half almost self-mocking smile, drank it down in one swallow. He placed the cup on the floor and looked at Ba Set for a long moment.
‘Another lifetime,’ she whispered.
Hew held her gaze then shook his head and drew her into his arms. Ba Set laughed softly.
Embarrassed, Tey turned away, drawing his covers over his head. The rough linen scratched his cheek and he closed his eyes, claimed by the deep pull of sleep.
FIFTEEN
The next morning Tey lay very still with his eyes closed. His muscles ached and he was finding it hard to breathe under the covers, but he didn't care. Frowning in the darkness, he scrunched his eyes tighter, trying to recapture the exact way his body had swooped and soared through the night. Painstakingly, he flexed each finger and straightened his arms, marvelling at their strength and power. They were invincible, sweeping him high with an exhilarating speed, soaring over the land, his heart singing in delight, the night air prickling his cheeks as it rushed past his face. His golden eyes stung in the sharp cold, missing nothing, as his gaze scoured the land below.
‘I am the Eagle King,’ Tey whispered proudly. ‘I am the ruler of the air and all the folk of the forest. Heed me!’
Imperiously, he threw back his head and stamped his right foot down - his leg hitting the wall with a hard thud. Pain flared and he cried out, opening his eyes.
Sunshine streamed in, throwing bright, striped patterns across the floor of the simple one room hut. Around his bed were the clothes he’d discarded and his wooden pipe. Tey rolled over in disappointment; he was no Eagle King, he was just a boy lying on his straw bed at home.
With a sigh, Tey glanced over to the far corner of the room. His parents’ bed lay empty. Their woollen covering, handwoven by his mother, tossed carelessly to the side as though it had been kicked, the under blanket trailed to the floor. ‘Oh no.’ Tey sat up in alarm. What if the spice hadn’t helped?
Through the cracks in the wall there was a blur of movement. Tey could see figures gesturing, dark against the bright green of the trees. At once, Tey jumped to his feet and ran towards the door.
A man was working in the centre of the clearing. A leather apron tied around his waist, and his face was obscured by thick, loose hair. Tossing his head back, the man let out a sudden laugh and the merry sound boomed loudly through the camp. Tey gasped, it was his father!
Laughing, Tey grabbed his flute and dashed out into the sunshine.
A metallic hiss rent the air as Hey drew a blade along a slab of oiled stone. Near to him, where Tey longed to be, stood a wiry figure with thinning hair and a darting, bird-like manner. Martin, the woodsman, was speaking with one hand on the knife belted to his waist. Between them lay a deer, its dark eyes open and its delicate hooves dangled. The broken shaft of an arrow still protruded through the skin above the animal’s heart.
Tey swallowed, ambushed by a wave of shyness. All he wanted was to run and bury his face in his father’s chest - hugging him, revelling in his strength and his earthy, familiar smell, but now… Tey shuffled his feet awkwardly and looked away. Across the ground, shadows moved and a warm breeze brushed past his cheek, carrying the soft chirrups of birds flitting through the branches. A note of urgency rose above the birdsong.
‘No, with them,’ Martin was gesturing emphatically towards the trees. ‘The abbot, with a dozen black-robed monks, followed by four armed sheriffs.’ He turned to Tey’s father, his narrow face strained. ‘The question is, what is the Lord, his brother, and a litter carrying the ladies, doing with such a retinue in the forest?’
‘They are most likely simply passing through,’ answered Hew as he continued to sharpen the blade. ‘You know the Lady’s brother has lands on the other side.’
He stopped and ran his thumb across the blade, testing its edge. Martin shook his head, staring back towards the trees, his hand hovering over the knife tied to his belt.
Seizing his chance, Tey crept forward and slipped in as quietly as he could beside his father, his head down. He swallowed, anxious he would be sent away. A hand descended onto his shoulder and Tey jerked, his heart leaping in panic.
‘Your mother left those for you,’ said his father, his green eyes crinkling in welcome. Tey smiled shyly and reached for one of the freshly made honeycakes. He took a small bite, conscious of a heavy silence stretching in the air above.
There was the sound of a footfall, and Ba Set - her hair tied back under a loose scarf, threw a bundle of slender, green juniper branches onto a pile by the fire pit.
‘Did I hear you say there is a party of nobles in the forest?’ She wiped her hands on her apron.
Martin nodded. ‘Aye, not only the nobles but men of the cloth following close behind, though their doleful chanting would dull even the brightest spirits.’ He spat onto the ground with a sour grimace.
Ba Set’s eyes narrowed. ‘Are they passing through?’
‘I don’t know, but it is very curious,’ said the woodsman, glancing back to the trees. ‘They have neither dogs, nor falcons, but they move as if searching, loudly and with much merriment and excitement.’
Without a wo
rd, Ba Set caught the gaze of her husband, her mouth set and eyes piercing.
But Hew only shook his head. ‘It is probably just a party looking for a meadow in which to eat out of doors,’ he said soothingly. ‘You know how these nobles are.’ He ruffled the top of Tey’s head. ‘They have nothing better to do with their time.’
Tey nodded and leaned closer to his father’s steady warmth.
‘Yes perhaps,’ interrupted Martin sharply, ‘but there is one stranger thing still. Leading them is the Lord’s youngest son, do you know of him?’ He paused, ‘Sir Ulrick, the one who was first marked for the church, but it is said he caused such a ruckus as a child, he was sent to be a squire in his uncle’s household.’
‘Ah yes,’ Hew’s eyes narrowed in distaste. ‘And now that he’s won his spurs, he’s joined the monk’s protectors, all aflame to win glory in the Holy Land.’
‘What is one such as this doing here?’ Ba Set glanced down at her son with a frown. ‘This one would fight a rock if he thought it would brought him glory.’
Tey placed the last honeycake back on the table, his appetite vanishing. He pressed even closer to his father. It couldn’t be? With his heart thudding anxiously, Tey reached for his father’s hand. Huge and strong, its familiar warmth soothed the sharp spikes of Tey’s rising fears.
‘If they are merely travelling through the forest, they pose no threat to us,’ Hew said quietly to Ba Set. ‘Do you agree, Martin?’
‘Of course,’ said the woodsman, ‘but they are not going in the straight line of the forest road. They are searching through the deep wood that runs in from the crossroad. The Lord’s son drops to his knees as if in prayer, they wait, and then they search on.’
As the adults talked, a sickening fear crept up Tey’s spine. He remembered the hungry fury on the knight’s face, and the strange elation as he’d watched him in the forest. He swallowed. ‘Fa-Father…’ Tey began, but stopped. His throat hurt as though dry, and crammed too full of sharp-edged words. ‘La-La-Last-’ Tey tried again, stamping his foot in frustration.
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