by F M Andrews
“I felt it!” Grasping Turrin by the shoulders he grinned. “I actually felt it!” Unable to contain himself he jumped to his feet and started pacing. “You were absolutely right,” he said, nodding in Turrin’s direction. “I just had to relax and think of nothing. Ha! Who would have thought that that would have been so difficult?” Then he bowed deeply to Turrin. “Thank you, my friend, you are wise beyond your years.”
From that day on, Myssan never looked back.
Chapter Twelve
Things were not going well for Fenrick.
At first, it had not been that bad, as the girls had never ridden a horse before and it had taken them at least two days to become used to riding. It had taken another two before the day’s ride did not leave them exhausted and saddle sore by evening. Four days of relative compliance and peace was all he had because on the fifth day it all ended. The girls took to riding as they did to everything, with unbounded energy, enthusiasm and recklessness. Within a week they were galloping, jumping streams and hedges, careening down forest trails and daring each other to do wilder and more dangerous stunts every day. Fenrick had given up warning them as it was patently obvious that it was a waste of breath. The first night he had made it clear to the girls how important they were to Feld, that everyone was depending on them and they had nodded in unison, looking very serious. However, it had obviously made no impression on them at all. Fenrick had shrugged, admitting defeat, reasoning to himself that they probably thought that they were truly indestructible and that all their daring stunts were just entertainment to make the journey more enjoyable.
He had threatened to take their horses away and they just laughed. “You can try,” was all they said as they raced off on another excursion. He had threatened to cut their rations and they had returned with a brace of rabbits and trout that they ate in front of him without offering him a single bite as he ate his beef jerky and hard cheese. Eventually they had all come to an understanding. The girls would do exactly what they wanted to do on this journey and he would not stop them.
From that moment on, things settled down a bit. Every night they would set up camp together and share a meal, then Fenrick would sing them a song, tell a tale or answer their prolific questions on every topic under the sun. To his surprise, there were even moments when he found he was actually quite enjoying himself.
Today had started reasonably well, with a particularly cold morning forcing the twins to stay close to the fire longer than usual. They had broken their fast, packed up the campsite and were ready to ride when the day had taken a turn for the worse. An unsuspecting white stag, his ears nervously twitching, had stepped delicately from the forest onto the road less than a lance throw away. Unfortunately he was upwind from them and did not notice that there were intruders in his forest until one of the horses snorted a greeting. It turned, stood frozen for a moment before bounding across the road and into the forest on the other side. Fenrick sighed in resignation as the girls mounted and gave gleeful chase. Fenrick weighed up his options and as usual realised he only really had one, to carry on with the journey and hope that they would catch up with him by day’s end.
By his estimation he should reach Lower Hull, in Rrin province, tonight, a pretty little town he knew well, with a warm welcoming inn that boasted the best pies in Feld. His mouth was already watering just thinking of it. Whether the twins made it there tonight or the next night did not really matter. He was assured of a warm welcome and it would be nice to have a comfortable bed for a change. If he had to stay an extra day it would certainly not be a hardship.
The inn was just as he remembered it: warm, a bit musty, but the aromas coming from the kitchen made you quickly overlook this. The inn owner, a portly man with a ruddy red face, welcomed him with a hearty slap on the back. “Fenrick! You old bastard! What brings you here? And how long will you be staying with us this time? We’ve got your usual room available and Jenrrin has just made a batch of oxtail pies, your favourite, if I remember rightly.” And there it was, in one breath he went from frustrated, cold and hungry to welcomed and rescued, with the anticipation of wonderful food to come.
As he took his cloak off and hung it on the peg by the door he felt as if the weight of responsibility had been removed along with it. The Inn keeper returned to the bar and pulled a tall glass of ale. He then bustled into the kitchen and returned with a platter mounded with cold meat, bread, and cheeses. “Come sit by the fire, you look frozen,” he said as he placed both the glass and the platter on a small table next to the leather chair by the crackling fire and looked at Fenrick inquiringly. Fenrick suddenly realised he had not answered the landlord’s question.
“Ah! Anrrin, you know that I would stay here forever if I had my wish, but alas, I can only stay the night and possibly the next depending on my luck.” Fenrick had noticed that the Inn was more crowded than usual and that there were many faces he did not recognise. “It appears Jenrrin’s pies fame has spread far and wide. Business is booming.”
Anrrin chuckled. “Can’t complain as we have never sold so many pies as we have this last moon but we also can’t take the credit for it really. No, these good folk are here to catch a glimpse of our famous white stag.” Fenrick nearly choked on the sip of ale he had just taken.
“White stag? Why would they come all this way for that? Surely there are white stags all over the forest?” Fenrick couldn’t help but notice there was a definite pleading note to his voice.
“Yes, but not like this one.” Anrrin lowered his voice and leaned towards Fenrick in a conspiratorial manner. “It is said that if you catch this stag’s eye he will be forced to grant you a wish.” Anrrin grinned, placed his hands on his hips and leaned back and let go a deep, hearty belly laugh. “Can’t think who would spread these rumours,” he chortled, giving Fenrick a knowing wink before leaving to attend to his many other customers.
Fenrick’s heart sank. The girls had struck again and it was obvious he had only one choice. He had to intercept them before they rode into town with a dead white stag. Even if they had managed to kill it, something Fenrick was positive they were capable of, it would be all right just as long as no one knew it was dead. Fenrick did not want to be responsible for ending this lucky turn of events for the village if he could help it. With a deep resigned sigh he took a last long look at the fire, and welcoming room, and then he made his way towards the door and the cold night beyond.
He was amazed at how these girls had such a knack for finding the most annoying, dangerous and upsetting thing to do, at every turn. The night seemed so much colder now as he sat huddled in his cloak, waiting on the road just round the first bend beyond the village. His teeth started to chatter and his horse was blowing steam with every breath. At last he heard the sound of horse's hooves on the road. He looked up but the road ahead was empty. The sound was coming from behind him, between him and the village. He retraced his steps, back round the bend and promptly swore under his breath. Somehow those two mischief-makers had bypassed him and exited the forest closer to the village. But what really made him swear, using some of his best expletives, was a set of magnificent antlers resting triumphantly on the front of Ema’s saddle.
“Oh no!” he groaned, urging his horse to trot. It was going to be a close call whether he could catch up with them before they reached the village. For a wonderful moment it appeared as if the gods were going to smile on him, but just as he was about to call out to the twins, these same gods thumbed their noses at him and sent a reveller from the Inn staggering out into the street. Even drunk as he was, there was no way he could miss the girls and their prize. Fenrick squeezed his eyes shut and begged that the man would fall flat on his face and pass out, but it was not to be. Instead he let out a loud howl and stumbled back into the inn, gesturing wildly.
Fenrick was beaten and he suddenly felt deflated as if all the air had left him, there was nothing he could do. It only took a few moments for the entire inn to spill out into the street, all gawping at the two yo
ung girls who had now come to a standstill in the middle of the road. Fenrick retrieved his will to live, sat up tall again and gathering all his diplomatic experience and court charisma around him like a cloak and quietly rode towards them. This would not be easy. He knew from experience that a mob can be very unpredictable, especially a mob deprived of hope.
“Just follow my lead and please don’t say anything,” he pleaded with the girls.
“Why? What's happening? What’s the problem?” Ela asked swivelling to look at Fenrick.
“You may have just killed the best thing that ever happened to this town and I don’t think the townspeople will be very pleased,” Fenrick said out the side of his mouth, not taking his eyes off the gathering crowd.
“What! Just because we killed a stag?” Ela exclaimed in a piercingly loud voice. Fenrick winced and the crowd growled.
“Yes, just because you killed a stag that was very special to the folks around here,” Fenrick whispered, surprised at how normal his voice sounded.
Cursing the girls under his breath, he rode forward to stand between the twins and the growing mob. “I know that this looks bad, but the girls had no idea what they were doing, they did not know it was a special animal, but I am sure that we can come to some sort of an understanding about all this.” The grumbling was growing louder. Fenrick held up his hand for quiet in what he hoped was in a commanding manner. “I am sure that the king would only be too happy to compensate you for your loss,” he called in his best beer hall voice to ensure everybody heard.
The mumbling grew less and a spark of hope ignited in Fenrick’s heart.
“Can the king grant us our wishes too?” called a voice from somewhere near the open inn door. This was followed by angry cheers of agreement and Fenrick felt his spark of hope go out. Time to go. He gestured to the girls to follow, and began walking his horse back down the road. Glancing over his shoulder he noticed that the twins had not moved. This was not just disobedient, it was dangerous. No one could predict what an angry mob would do.
“Ela, Ema, come,” he ordered but they did not move. Instead, Ema had ridden closer to the crowd.
“Is this a way to greet strangers to your town?” she asked loudly.
Fenrick recognised the tone that he often used on them, the ‘you don’t understand’ tone.
“We are weary travellers on a long important journey and we had hoped to seek comfort in your welcoming village. We have done nothing wrong. Isn’t it the king's law that a wild animal in the forest is free for anyone to take?” As Ema paused for breath Fenrick slowly turned his horse around, mouth open in surprise. She definitely had the orator’s gift and the crowd was responding, several people actually looked a bit embarrassed. “You are lucky that you have such a beautiful forest and I am sure one stag less will not make a difference.”
An old man stumbled forward to peer up at Ema pointing a shaking finger accusingly at her. “But there was only one white stag that granted wishes in our forest.” He paused, sucking in air. “And you have killed it!” The fickle rabble once again turned, and indignant accusations were flung. The noise level was steadily rising to fever pitch. Fenrick was preparing to slap both the twins’ horses and just ride when a most peculiar thing happened. Ela and Ema both burst out laughing.
“Look again, old man,” Ela said holding the set of antlers out for him to see. As the light from the open inn door fell on them it was clear to see that short hair from the hide, still attached, was a decidedly brown colour. The crowd drew closer to see. “We did see the white stag, but when it turned to look at us we knew it was special, not to mention old and chewy, so when it granted us our wish of a young stag to chase we took it,” Ela finished.
Fenrick chuckled — the pupils had surpassed their master. Not only had she defused the situation, she had also enhanced the stag’s reputation and by association the village’s as well. For a moment Fenrick felt a little guilty, as he had assumed the worse and not even given the twins the benefit of the doubt. But on the other hand, assuming the worst had served him well up until now when it came to these two girls. Well, who would have thought it? It would appear the girls were growing up. Fenrick allowed himself a rueful smile before moving forward to help Ela with the meat she had in a bundle on the back of her saddle.
“Anrrin,” he called, “do you think Jenrrin could make as good venison pies as she does oxtail?”
“I am sure of it and I think that any venison coming from the white stag forest would be very sought after, don’t you?” Anrrin said as he took the offering, winking at Fenrick and chuckling quietly under his breath.
Fenrick gave a grateful sigh and thought wistfully of the soft bed that would now be waiting for him. The girls, on the other hand, were already engaged in their next adventure. Apparently they had killed the stag with a throwing knife and proceeded to show all the doubters exactly how it was done, which, of course, resulted in a vigorous and vocal knife throwing competition. Fenrick left them to it; after all, he had a hot oxtail pie and a cool ale waiting for him beside a warm, cosy fire.
#
Hexrick burst out laughing.
All trip he had to come to terms with the fact that the boy, Lutex, had a way with animals, but this was so ridiculous that he couldn’t help but laugh. They had meant to camp out that night as they were a long way from any village; however, as night fell a fast moving storm had forced them to seek shelter up in the hay loft of a farmer's barn. It had not been the most comfortable night. The roof had leaked and the wind had howled loudly, shaking the building and rattling the shingles, but it had been relatively dry and reasonably warm.
When Hexrick awoke the storm had passed and all was quiet except for a few drips beating a steady rhythm and the deep breathing of the animals below. It was just dawn, and as the early morning light slanted through the cracks in the walls, it illuminated two large eyes, topped off with two pointed ears, staring at him with evil intent. Hexrick tensed, but then, looking passed those eyes, he saw Lutex still asleep, curled in a ball, deep in the hay, surrounded by, of all things, twenty or so cats. They were even curled up on top of him. There were cats of all shapes and sizes and they all looked quite feral, not your groomed, patted moggy that lived by the fire; instead they were scrawny, fur-matted farm cats who lived by hunting rodents and birds.
Hexrick’s laugh had woken them all and now, in unison, they were staring at him with baleful contempt. Not one of them stirred a whisker yet Hexrick got the strong impression that if he made a move towards the boy they would not hold back. It had been like this all trip. Squirrels would come down out of trees and eat out of Lutex’s hand. Deer that would normally bound away at the first sight of people just stopped and stared. It had been mildly amusing most of the time, except once, when a flock of sheep a farmer was walking down the road to fresh pastures decided to surround Lutex and followed him no matter where he went. Nothing the farmer did made any difference and in the end they had to go with the farmer to his destination and pen the sheep before they could be on their way. Hexrick presumed that this was all part of the talent Lutex must possess.
At the beginning of their journey together, Hexrick had felt a bit overprotective of Lutex. After all, he was still so young and vulnerable. The first night Lutex had cried himself to sleep and Hexrick, not having a lot of experience with young children was at a loss as to what to do. He had just wrapped himself in his blanket and tried to sleep; however, in the middle of the night he felt a small body creep under it and snuggle close. From that night on this was how they slept.
Because the boy did not talk, Hexrick, usually a man of few words, felt the need to fill the silences, to reassure and explain to the child about all the sights and experiences they encountered along the way. The boy’s wonder at new things, such as his first large town, his first forest and his first snow-capped mountain range, made Hexrick appreciate these things as if he were also seeing them for the first time. Gradually Hexrick began to tell Lutex little snippets of
his life as a way of explaining the wider world to him and just as a trickle can cause a dam to burst, Hexrick found that he soon began pouring out his life story and Lutex listened. Hexrick talked about things he had never told another soul, and Lutex listened. He told of his love of his family and friends, of his life with the knights and his admiration for Dissan. He told of his feelings of inadequacy on the tournament field and his sadness that he had not had time to find a woman to love, and Lutex listened. It had been so strange, this outpouring of his thoughts, this divulgence of his inner self, but it had also become very healing in the end and somewhere along the way, Hexrick had discovered that by telling happy stories it was almost like reliving that special time again. It was so rewarding to see that serious young face break into a smile once in a while. They were good travelling companions, although it was a bittersweet time for Hexrick as he knew that the whole purpose of the journey was to bring the boy to a place where he might be in real danger. A place where Hexrick could not follow to protect him. Daily his resolve was tested to the limit as he became more and more connected to this interesting young child in his care.
Lutex sneezed, rolled over on his back and rubbed his eyes. The cats barely moved. Some stretched out their paws but the majority just looked on aloofly. Lutex lifted his hand and quietly patted a random head, which immediately elicited a thunderous purr.
“All hail to the King of cats,” Hexrick said giving a sitting mock bow to the boy and smiling. “Could you please ask your subjects to bring us a nice, tasty rat for breakfast?” Lutex sat up, shedding cats like falling apples and smiled back. Lutex never communicated in anyway, he never pointed or used his hands to indicate what he was thinking, but Hexrick found that, despite this, he could always know exactly what he wanted. At least he thought he knew.
“Hungry?” Lutex smiled again, picking up a cat that had settled back down on his lap and placing it gently beside him. “Let's go see what the farmer’s wife has cooked us for breakfast.”