by CJ Arroway
The man looked them up and down and grunted. Evie could see he found that hard to believe, but he didn’t pick her up on it.
‘I was friends with him once,’ he said, taking a bite from a thick slice of green cheese.
‘Really?’ Luda frowned.
The man wiped his mouth. ‘Yeah - long time ago. Not friends exactly, but I knew him. Knew of him. Friend of friends, you know?’
Luda coughed, wondering how far the story would continue before the man decided actually he’d never even heard of Rachlaw.
‘He was well known in Auist. Bit different then to the man he is today, mind,’ he continued.
‘Auist?’ Evie asked. She assumed he’d always lived in Wyrra.
‘Yeah,’ the man said, biting another piece of cheese and mumbling through it. ‘Little port town, down south on the Lyrr estuary. He was down there for a while when I was working the docks there. This would be before you were born mind, I reckon.’
Evie shook her head. It was funny, she thought, that she had all her hopes invested in one man and she was only just realising she didn’t really know him at all.
‘Well, best be getting on,’ the man said, standing up and dusting down crumbs of cheese from his clothes. ‘I should have asked if you minded me eating my cheese next to you, but then it probably smelt like honeysuckle to you after your morning. Say hello to your friend Rachlaw for me.’ He laughed, and raised a mock salute before heading back towards the dockside.
‘We’d best get back on it, too,’ Evie said, folding the cloth she had spread across her lap to eat from.
It was getting late in the day now and the last couple of hours were spent in the easier work of sweeping and cleaning the route they had taken with the sheep skins.
By the time they made their way to Felim’s stall for payment they were so tired that if he made another snide comment they didn’t notice it. They picked up their few coin scraps and headed wearily out towards the gate and the riverside.
‘Let’s treat ourselves,’ Evie said as they walked. ‘I still have a little saved from yesterday as well, so we could cross the bridge and maybe get something half-decent to eat. I think we deserve it.’
Luda gave a tired smile. ‘I don’t know how you’ve saved anything with what we get paid, but ok – if you’re sure you–’
‘Oy, Jackdaw! Up here.’
Luda looked up to see a stocky, snub-nosed tannery worker standing on the narrow wooden platform of the loading hatch just above their heads.
‘Here’s a little present from your pigeon cousins!’ The man turned over the bucket he was holding, and before Luda could move the wet claggy mass of fermented guano hit his face and splattered his clothes.
Luda gagged, the foul taste filling his mouth and his eyes stinging with the dirt and ammonia. He couldn’t see a thing, but he could hear the laughter of the men gathered around the exit gate and Felim roaring and thumping his table in delight, and it seemed to him the whole of Wyrra was laughing at him.
‘What’s the matter Jackdaw? Thought you’d like the smell, should remind you of your mother.’ The man raised the empty bucket to the crowd he was entertaining.
‘You bastards – leave us alone,’ Evie shouted, to more laughter, and rushed to help Luda wipe the filth from his face and scrape it out from where it had lodged down the collar of his shirt.
His eyes filled with tears, only partly from the sting, but he refused to let them run.
‘I told you I hate it here, Evie,’ he said, his voice cracking as his throat tightened. ‘Why don’t you do something. Make him pay. Use your magic. He deserves it.’
‘I can’t Luda,’ Evie said in a low voice, glancing around at the mocking crowd. ‘Not here, with everyone – it’s too risky. That’s not the way. When Rachlaw gets back–’
Luda spat out the thick saliva that had filled his mouth as he tried to flush away the salty, acrid taste of guano.
‘Rachlaw is as bad as the rest, he’s just interested in you because he thinks you’re special.’ Luda’s face was red now, and no longer just from the embarrassment. ‘He just wants something from you. He’s not going to help me, I’m not Daw enough for him. Or you. Just enough for these– ’
‘Luda, no!’ Evie gently put out her hand to wipe his face. Luda pushed it aside.
‘If I had your curse, I swear – I would use it. I would use it.’
‘Luda, you wouldn’t want it, I promise.’ Evie spoke softly, as she put her arms around his shoulders and rested her head against his. She could feel his body shaking and the heavy rise and fall of his breath and she closed her eyes and thought of all the places she knew where he might be happy.
The Lion & The Bear
Rachlaw was thinking about where to make camp. They were close enough to the border now that there was risk, however slight, of raiding parties.
They would need to protect the baggage train and post guards, but a fully fortified camp would be unnecessary. Even so, there were probably only four hours of good daylight left and he would need to keep an eye out for a suitable spot.
More of the horsemen had taken to wearing their mail, and the following foot soldiers were kept in tighter groups as the sight of the Mahl hills focussed their attention on what awaited them. The men were confident, as always, but the reputation of the Sea People made them more wary than they had been in any of the border disputes with the Myrians, or punitive raids on the Cyl and Duvrans, that were their usual stock-in-trade.
They were now firmly in the foothills of the Mahl, and the land rose steeply to their right flank, while the deep river, which they would ford at Riverhead when they entered the fort, ran to their left. Directly across the water, a thin strip of woodland followed its banks all the way to the start of the Mahl Pass. They would camp once they reached more open ground on the other side of the hill, and the next day move into the higher valleys.
The land they now rode across was part of the North Lands, an area of low hills and rich pasture. It was second only to The Wyrran in wealth, but its capital, Hurran, lay many miles east and there were only a handful of scattered farms nearby and few places to buy provisions if needed.
No border fortresses stood here. While it had been more than a century since the North Lands and The Wyrran had been at war – before The Home was one – it had been long agreed there would be no military building here on either side. Which was fine, Rachlaw thought, for diplomacy, but not very helpful when invasion threatened.
Instead, Riverhead Fort guarded the only pass through the mountains from Myria, and soldiers of The Home – Northern men and Wyrrans – manned its walls. But it was a strong fort, and it had never been taken.
Rachlaw was grateful for the smooth and steady gait of his horse as he looked around at the other riders, many of them shuffling uncomfortably in their saddles, and he put out a hand to pat his neck. ‘Well done Litan, nearly time for you to have a rest.’ Litan snorted and shook his grey mane in response.
The day was warm and the biting flies from the river were agitating the horses, who flicked their tails restlessly as they walked. The men, too, were troubled by the swarms. Some removed their helmets to brush the flies from their faces. Everyone, it seemed, was ready to rest for the day, and Rachlaw resolved to set up camp at the next secure spot they came to.
‘Horsemen, Lord – on the hilltop, right.’ Two of Rachlaw’s scouts had ridden back around the side of the hill’s slope, their horses frothing with white sweat; drooling from the sides of their mouths as their teeth champed hard on their wooden bits.
‘Horsemen?’ Rachlaw was caught off guard momentarily. ‘Not Sea People then. Is it Venner? What’s he doing here?’
The Sea People did not take horses to battle. They had precious few, and their ships were built for men and provisions, not animals. Rachlaw smiled and shook his head – Venner must have seen off the enemy already and was heading back in triumph.
‘I’ll never hear the end of it. Go back and tell him we’re
making camp, he can join us and we’ll share a drink tonight.’
‘Yes Lord,’ the leading scout replied firmly and turned to leave. But at the same moment the horsemen crested the top of the low hill above them. At least two dozen of them. At the front was the familiar figure of Venner – powerful on his huge black charger, clad in battle dress, the blue dragon of his flag flying above him.
Venner held his hand up for his men to remain in place, then rode down the hill to meet Rachlaw and the army.
‘He’s come to brag – wait for it,’ Rachlaw said to Alren, who had now joined him at the front of the line, eager to share his father’s pride.
The horseman was getting closer, and Alren pulled at his rein to draw his horse closer to Rachlaw’s.
‘Something isn’t right, Lord.’
Rachlaw had felt it too. The man wore Venner’s armour, which few men could fill, but Mayah, the horse who was almost another part of Venner, was uncharacteristically nervy – tossing its head and grinding its teeth.
The man was close enough now that Rachlaw could see the wiry hair of a thick beard below the cheek guards that hid the rider’s face. Red hair, not grey.
‘Is this who you are looking for?’ the man shouted, in a voice as heavy as the weight that suddenly embedded itself in Rachlaw’s heart. He pulled up the hand he had casually dropped by his side on the ride down the hill, and hurled the blood-matted head of Lord Venner so that it rolled down the slope to land at the feet of Rachlaw’s horse.
‘Men, form a wall. Shields! Now!’ Rachlaw screamed out his command. But already Alren was charging up the hill, and several of the other Wyrran horsemen were following him as they pursued the quickly retreating rider.
‘Stop! Get back! Do not break ranks!’ Rachlaw was screaming his command, but many of the horsemen’s followers now joined them in the charge up the hill. The leading horses in the pursuit were gaining on the more clumsy rider, but as they closed in a roar erupted from the other side of the river as men – hundreds at least – burst out of the wood. Rachlaw and the King’s Men looked on in disbelief as the advancing soldiers charged across and over the deep water of the river, their feet barely wet as they seemed to skim its surface. Some of his men had already turned to run.
In that same moment hundreds more poured over the brow of the hill to envelop the King’s Men riders who had almost caught up with the man in Venner’s armour, hacking at them with poleaxes and pulling them down into a frenzy of spears and warhammers.
Rachlaw gripped his sword and tried to rally the men to make defensive walls of their shields on both sides, but their order was scattered and now the axes and spears of the Sea People were ploughing through the lines, and he knew it was lost.
The West
The days at the tannery had not got easier, though the worst taunts had dropped off to casual insults now the other workers had become used to the novelty of two new Daw working among them.
Luda had been subdued since the incident with the guano, and as the days turned into weeks Evie found it increasingly hard to bring him back out of himself. She worried that it might be better for him to return to the village, but with not enough money to pay for passage he would have to work his way back on a boat, and boats to the Black Hills were few and far between.
‘Let’s go across the river,’ she said to him one afternoon as they rested in their room. One day a week they would work only the morning hours and for the first time in a while they had time on their hands. ‘We were going to have a nice meal. Let’s do that. It’ll be my treat.’
‘Ok,’ Luda said quietly.
‘Just ok?’
‘I said ok.’
A little later, as they sat in silence in the basement of a small tavern just off the main street of the city, Evie watched Luda dab mournfully at his bowl of pottage with a crust of dark bread and she sighed.
‘What is it? You can’t let them get to you, you know. We’ll be out of here in a few days and they are stuck in that filthy tannery for the rest of their lives. That’s your revenge.’
Luda didn’t look up. ‘It’s not just them.’
Evie sighed deeper still. ‘Is it me then?’
Now Luda looked up. ‘You told me yourself you got back at that man who was bothering you by the fort, but when I get a bucket of bird shit poured on my head you do nothing. They talk to us like dirt every day and you do nothing.’
Evie sat back in exasperation. ‘What did you want me to do? Magic? Right in front of a dozen or more People? How long do you think we’d last?’
Luda looked down.
‘Besides, what could I do?’ Evie was hissing a whisper now, conscious of the heads that were turning at the sound of their argument. ‘I don’t know what you think I can do but you have got it very wrong if you think I can just snap my fingers and hurt people. I can do little tricks, I can make pictures or hear emotions or play with ropes and things. That’s it. Have you ever seen me do anything else?’
‘Then why is Rachlaw helping you?’ Luda grunted, stabbing his spoon half-heartedly at a piece of soggy bread that had fallen into his bowl.
‘What?’ Evie threw her hands up. ‘What are you talking about?’ She stared at Luda who had raised his eyebrows in a way that made her rising frustration turn to anger, and she shook her head and scowled at him.
‘Oh, ok I get it. You think he wants me to be some sort of weapon – crush his enemies with magic, is that it?’ Luda glared at her as she crossed her arms and twisted sideways in her chair.
‘I thought you knew me?’ She turned her head suddenly to look at him again, and then leant in.
‘What would I do? Terrify the Sea People with the power of string? That. Isn’t. What. I. Do!’
She had raised her voice to spell out the last few words, and the handful of drinkers in the tavern turned once more to look at them. Luda glanced down to the floor.
Evie was whispering again. ‘And even if it was, which it isn’t, I wouldn’t do it. You said it yourself to Aldrwyn – oh yes, don’t deny it,’ Luda was shaking his head now and suddenly taking more interest in his food. ‘You said magic destroys your essence, makes you do bad things. Is that what you want for me? Are you agreeing with The People now that we just use magic for bad?’
Luda began: ‘I didn’t–’
‘I don’t believe you Luda. You used to be the one person who made me feel ok about doing magic, now you just want to throw it back at me like everyone else.’
She sat back, arms folded across her chest, and Luda shook his head. Neither of them spoke for what felt like minutes. Luda went back to poking at his food in silence.
Evie looked out of the small window at the people passing by outside, although she could see little above their legs from their low seats and the sunken floor. She thought about the people who would be fighting in the north, and how long it would be before they would be back on the streets of Wyrra and she could start moving on again.
Luda stared at his bowl for a few moments, then puffed out a heavy breath.
‘I’m sorry Evie – I’ve just found it…’ his voice faded and Evie looked sideways at him for a few moments, then unfolded her arms and held her eyes closed for a moment.
‘No, I’m sorry Luda. It’s ok. We’re ok.’ She reached across the table and put her hand gently on his forearm that was cradling his now cold pottage bowl. ‘I should have stood up for you more, you’re right. I’m sorry. I let you down – just, I can’t. Not in that way.’ She gently shook his arm. ‘Are we ok?’
Luda forced a weak smile and shrugged. ‘Yeah. We’re ok.’
‘Just ok?’ Evie leaned her head forward playfully.
‘We’re ok.’ For the first time in days Luda’s face broke into something that looked at least a little like a genuine smile.
They left the remains of their meal and walked out into the late afternoon air. The day was warm and, with a breeze blowing the tannery fumes away into the countryside, the city now felt almost welcoming for the
first time since they’d arrived.
They’d need to be back across the bridge by sundown – the city was not a place to walk after dark, and certainly not around the docks. But for now they would walk through the narrow streets off the main city centre, where the smell of cooking and sweet wood smoke, the sounds of voices and laughter, shouting and singing, spoke of a city relaxed and enjoying the start of the warmest months.
‘It’s not so bad here after all, is it?’ Evie said, holding onto Luda’s arm as they walked through the short passageway that divided one street from another.
‘I guess,’ Luda replied.
Ahead of them, the door of one of the buildings suddenly swung wildly open and a figure ran out into the street directly in front of them. The bushel of holly leaves hanging over the door showed it was another tavern, and the look of surprised recognition on an angular face told them the figure was Aldrwyn.
‘Hey! Fancy bumping into you two. Sorry can’t stop.’ Aldrwyn pushed between them and ran back the way they had just come.
Moments later a second, then a third and fourth figure burst through the door. The second, a stocky, balding man wearing a leather apron, was shouting after Aldrwyn as he disappeared into a side street. ‘Stop that thief – he’s taken my purse!’
Evie looked at Luda, Luda looked at Evie – and they ran.
‘What an idiot,’ Luda panted as he and Evie chased ahead of the pursuing pack.
‘Still think we should have worked with him?’ Evie puffed, as they swung sharply into the alleyway Aldrwyn had just dived down.
The streets were narrow and jumbled, which made running difficult. It should have made hiding simpler, but only if you could keep ahead and, despite his appearance, the stocky man was quick on his feet. Aldrwyn, closely followed by Evie and Luda, was not giving him and his friends the slip.
‘What are we going to do if we catch up with him?’ Luda stepped suddenly around a small barrow that narrowed the street even more.