Reecah's Flight

by Richard H. Stephens

  “I don’t care anymore. What more can they do to me?” Even as she said it, visions of all the ways Jonas and his men might make her life worse went through her mind. She shuddered.

  “You don’t understand. My father has convinced the rest of the village that you’re a witch.”

  Reecah scowled. “I’ve been called worse.”

  Junior’s cheeks reddened. “Ya, well, that was before.” He lifted his face, his vibrant green eyes pleading as he blurted out, “They mean to burn you.”

  Reecah blinked. “Burn me?”

  Junior nodded. “You need to get out of here.” He went to the door and looked out. “I don’t know how long you’ve got, but if I know my father, they’ll be back soon. If they catch you…”

  Reecah’s mind raced. They wanted to burn her? For what? Blocking the route into the mountains? “But why. What did I do to deserve that? Roll a few boulders in their way?”

  Junior turned in the open doorway. “It’s not what you did. It’s who you were born to.”

  “My parents didn’t do anything wrong.”

  Junior nodded as she spoke. “It’s not your parents they’re worried about, though according to father, they weren’t welcome in the village either.”

  “Then who…”

  Raver jumped into the air.

  Junior ducked sideways as the raven flew outside.

  Almost at once, Raver squawked in a cadence Reecah knew well. Her little friend had spotted someone.

  Reecah took a quick look around the hut. There wasn’t anything salvageable. She went to her old sleeping spot in the corner and picked up a broken dragon wing—her tears starting again. She let it fall through her fingers and sniffed loudly. Everything gone.

  Taking a steadying breath, she crossed the hut and reached beneath the pallet. “Thank goodness,” she said as she unclipped the black bow from its hidden cradle. She pulled back the heavy dresser and revealed a hidden panel in the wall. Prying it open, she produced a black leather quiver etched with the same two white ‘X’s’ marked on the bow. The training swords were propped up in the tight space, but there was nothing she could do about them.

  Replacing the panel, she kicked its bottom to jam it back into place. She spun, scanning the devastated interior. “Where’s my quarterstaff?”

  Junior searched through the mess and stopped near the broken loom. “Here!” He held it out for her. “Now go. I’ll try to stall them.”

  He tore from the hut and ran down the path.

  She wondered why he had helped her. He had been one of the worse boys while they were growing up. Being the eldest, he had encouraged the others.

  Raver squawked nearby.

  She didn’t have time to worry about Junior. Passing through the door, she paused to take a last look, not sure she’d ever see Grammy and Poppa’s cabin again.

  She willed her tears away. She had no time for them if she wished to live to fight another day. Gritting her teeth, she lamented not having much when it came to worldly possessions, nor did she have anyone to fall back on, but one thing life had taught her while growing up on the hill overlooking Fishmonger Bay, was to be a survivor. If the villagers thought they were going to take her easily, they were in for a big surprise.

  She spied her rucksack and ducked back in to retrieve it before slipping through the door and running up the faint trail into the mountains.

  She thought briefly about returning to Dragonfang Pass. Grimelda’s dying words nagged at her. ‘When I’m gone, you will be the only one on this side of the Great Kingdom capable of saving the dragons…Locate the Dragon’s Eye embedded in the Watcher and bring it back here… Promise Grimelda.’

  As much as she wished to honour her pledge, she dared not expose herself to the dragon community. Not after her encounter with Lurker. He claimed she was as much to blame for the death of the dragons as the hunt.

  The sound of distant boots stomping up the main trail spurred her into motion.

  Raver flew overhead, following her south into the heights toward Peril’s Peak.

  Ambushed

  Peril’s Peak towered over the dragon hunt cabin, it’s grey summit devoid of snow. Despite its elevation, the mountain height was pleasantly warm in the late summer heat as Reecah went through her morning ritual with her swords—swinging them around and practicing her footwork. She was no match for a formally trained swordsman—or anyone with experience really, but at least her strength continued to grow.

  With nothing but time on her hands and her dependence on her ability to hunt food, her accuracy with the bow had improved considerably. She had become proficient with stationary targets and now enjoyed jogging around a small course she had set up to shoot while on the move. It had taken the loss of many arrows over the cliffside, but as the spring months blended into summer, she found herself able to hit her intended target more often than not. If only Jonas and the hunt could see her now. She doubted even the greasy snake, Viper, could best her.

  Leaning her weapons against the cabin she climbed the tiered waterfall tumbling behind the hunt camp, removed her boots, and dangled her feet in the cold water cascading from the heights. She smiled at the irony of her recent journey. She had fled her home to escape the villagers, especially the members of the dragon hunt, only to hole up in their training cabin. When the men returned here in the fall, they were in for a shock. She planned on leaving a blatant message about her time spent in her summer abode.

  Using the writing stick Auntie Grim had given her, she wrote a brief account of her time spent at the cabin, itemizing her training regimen on the large, central table.

  She laughed out loud. She doubted the dullards were capable of reading.

  For the time being, the villagers would be busy fishing and farming the lower heights with little time to spare for formal training. She recalled Poppa leaving for a few weeks around the autumn solstice to train with the hunt, and then again in the early spring.

  Smiling at the turn of events, the small hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.

  Raver squawked excitedly from somewhere far away.

  She couldn’t locate him at first, but when he appeared from beneath the ledge of the cliff fronting the cabin, she knew her time at the hunt camp had come to an end. Someone ascended the heights from the village far below. It was time to move on.

  Struggling to pull her boots over her wet feet, she scrambled down the ledge and ran to the cliff’s edge. At first, she couldn’t see anyone, but movement to her left made her drop to her knees. Jaxon Waverunner led a group of men in matching surcoats up the trail.

  She thought about slipping away to Thunderhead, but the men were already on this side of the junction she needed to access the southern route.

  A voice echoed off the cliff face at her feet. Jaxon ran up the last steep slope leading to the plateau, pointing straight at her. Well armed men followed on his heels, their chinking armour and clanking weapons clearly audible.

  Reecah darted to the cabin, gathered what scant food stock she had, and ran back outside to collect her weapons. She briefly entertained the idea of using her bow to stop the men’s advance, but she didn’t have the heart to actually kill a person.

  “Raver, home,” Reecah called and climbed the waterfall, confident she could easily outpace her pursuit. With no other way open to her she headed home—the eastern face of Peril’s Peak too sheer to circle around.

  Jaxon’s group came hard after her for the first part of her trek but she put considerable distance between them by the time the afternoon sun dropped over the ocean.

  Descending the heights toward her cabin, the aroma of a cookfire forewarned her long before she got within sight of her hut. Careful not to alert whoever it was, she crept through the underbrush until she came within sight of the cabin.

  Scores of men and women sat around numerous campfires around her yard. Several of the interlopers wore long robes but most of them were outfitted in coloured uniforms matching those that had been tra
velling with Jaxon, except one. Jonas Junior. The lying scoundrel had led an army of men to apprehend her.

  Ever since the day he had held her, she had thought of little else. She dared to hope that he was somehow different than the rest of Jonas’ clan. That Junior actually possessed a shred of decency and even cared for her. Never having entertained feelings for anyone other than Poppa, Grammy and Grimelda, something about Junior made her heart flutter. Seeing him amongst an armed camp on her doorstep affected her more than she thought possible.

  That troubled her. She had no real reason to believe that Junior liked her, but a profound sense of betrayal fueled a deep resentment. She’d been a foolish girl to entertain notions regarding the blonde-haired man.

  She wiped at her eyes to keep them from brimming over and wondered why the villagers had felt the need to employ armed soldiers to bring her in. She might know the lay of the land better than most but she was barely capable of defending herself. They were taking this ‘witch’ thing far more seriously than they ought to. She didn’t possess a magic bone in her body.

  Raver cried out overhead, gliding on the wind over the hut.

  She cringed. The fool bird was going to give away her location.

  Imitating a cardinal’s chirrup, she called raver to her—realizing too late what a mistake that would be.

  Junior stepped away from the largest campfire, following Raver’s flight across the yard toward where she crouched in a thorny thicket.

  Reecah entertained pulling her bow from her shoulder and ending the traitorous man. His broad chest made him an easy target.

  “Junior!” A gruff voice sounded from over by the hut. Jonas appeared on the edge of the porch, an angry scowl twisting his face. “Where are you…?”

  “There!” Junior pointed up the slope at the copse Reecah hid amongst.

  The sound of leather and metal erupted across the clearing as the camp rose to their feet and checked their weapons.

  Raver crashed into her outstretched arms. “No Raver. Away again.” She threw him into the air.

  He’d no sooner cleared the thicket than an arrow whistled overhead.

  Reecah’s heart lurched but Raver escaped unharmed. She stared through the underbrush. Junior had another arrow nocked but he held back. All he had to do was aim at the bush Raver had emerged from. He couldn’t miss her.

  Grabbing a fist-sized rock she tossed it to her left. The rock struck a tree and rolled down an embankment into the backyard.

  Hearing the thump, Reecah sprinted up the trail to her right as cries of, “There she is!” rang out all over the camp.

  “Don’t let her get away!” Jonas boomed.

  Fearing at any moment to be taken down by one of Junior’s arrows, Reecah never looked back, but the shot never came.

  Running for her life, she felt more confident eluding the new pursuit than she did those she had encountered below Peril’s Peak. This was her terrain. She knew the mountainside like it was her backyard—from the hidden climbs and caves to the deepest crevices and everything in between.

  If not for the number of people Jonas had employed to catch her, she might have considered finding such a cave and lying low—the mountainside was expansive. It would be next to impossible to find her if she decided to hide, but the appearance of the uniformed troops unsettled her. She couldn’t remain hidden forever.

  The uniformed troops struck her as professional warriors. In her mind, her best defense was to put as much ground between them and herself and hope they would eventually tire of the chase.

  As she ran, a slow rage simmered in the back of her mind. Junior’s betrayal bothered her to distraction. She wasn’t used to this level of anger. How dare he show her compassion and then shoot an arrow at Raver the next time they met?

  Two days of steady jogging and fast walking saw Reecah and Raver enter the great valley beyond the Fang. From the noises Raver had made while they ventured up the coast, she was sure they were still being followed. By the time they rounded the Fang, however, Raver had lost sight of them.

  Pausing to catch her breath in the shadow of the monolith, a slight smile spread across her glistening face. She’d outdistanced the special troops brought in to catch her. Unless they’d learned to fly, she was confident it would be a long time before Jonas’ men ever got another whiff of her.

  Satisfying as that thought might be, she couldn’t escape the fact of where she was headed. The way north was precluded by an impassable landfall. The only route available to her lay east, up Dragonfang Pass. She searched the sky, thankful the only flying creature in sight was no bigger than a raven.

  The last vestiges of daylight had left the valley of the dragons by the time Reecah entered the wide clearing where the hunt had slain Lurker’s mother and the purple dragon all those months ago. She hadn’t been sure it was the same clearing at first—the dragon bodies were gone and the signs of battle had been all but washed away with time.

  It was tough to see in the dark but upon closer inspection, she could still see the faded scorch marks of dragon fire and the remnants of the scattered campfire.

  Raver landed on a high tree limb jutting over the valley and watched her gather scattered wood from the hunt’s campfire.

  Using a flint stone to light a small fire, Reecah spread a thin blanket on the ground and called Raver to her. Together, they huddled beneath her brown cloak and listened to the night sounds as sleep overcame her. It had been a grueling stretch of days.

  Reecah screeched, trying to throw off the weight that had suddenly fallen on her as she slept. Raver squawked, freeing himself from her cloak and winging away.

  “There’s the raven! I told you it was hers!” A high-pitched, male voice declared on the other side of the scratchy burlap sack thrown over her.

  A raspy voice belonging to whoever pinned her shoulders answered, “Ya, ya, big deal. Help me hold her down! Where’s the rope?”

  She kicked and punched, twisting and turning. “Let me go!”

  “Easy, Reeky, or I’ll gut you right here and be done with you.”

  A sharp point poked through the burlap and scraped her shoulder below her chin.

  She screamed. “Jaxon! You creep. Let me go or else.”

  A strong hand reached beneath the shroud, feeling its way down her arm to her wrist and reefed her arm backward. If Jaxon’s weight hadn’t lifted from her, her arm would’ve surely broken as they flipped her on her side.

  She kicked out, not hitting anything, but as soon as her legs were extended, someone wrapped their arms around her calves, pulled her boots off, and bound her ankles with rope.

  Another hand pried at her other arm, wresting it free from beneath her, and wrenched it behind her back, rolling her onto her stomach.

  Raver called out continuously from the treetop.

  The more she strained, the more the thin ropes binding her wrists and ankles dug into her skin.

  The pointed toe of a filthy black boot dug under her cheek and lifted her head off the ground. The shroud was ripped free and she found herself looking into the sickly, yellowed eyes of the weasel-faced, Viper.

  He gave her a crooked-toothed grin and a slight nod, raising a single eyebrow. “Aye, missy. You’re in a heap of trouble now.”

  The sight of Viper sapped the fight from her.

  Jaxon strode up beside Viper, holding the burlap shroud over a forearm, a beaming grin splitting his impudent face. “And you thought you could outrun us. Maybe the fat ones like my uncle and father, but not me and Viper.”

  His words grated at her, filling her with revulsion. She wondered what she had ever done to Jaxon to deserve this type of treatment—other than giving him a deserved bloody nose on more than one occasion.

  “You almost gave us the slip back there but you never counted on being tracked by someone skilled like me.” Jaxon thumbed his chest.

  Glancing from one man to the other, it was apparent they were quite happy with themselves. She was beginning to think the arrival
of Jonas and the uniformed soldiers wouldn’t be a bad thing. She might be able to talk sense into whoever the uniformed men were. Lying in the dirt at the feet of Jaxon and the snake was the last place she wanted to be.

  “Now’s your chance,” Jaxon turned his attention on Viper, “to shut that damned bird up.”

  Viper grinned and pulled his crossbow over his shoulders. He reached into his bulging cloak and withdrew a small-tipped bolt.

  Reecah rolled onto her side. “Raver, away!”

  Raver took to the air, cawing incessantly into the darkness.

  A blinding pain erupted in her stomach at the end of Jaxon’s boot. “Silence, witch!”

  “Stupid woman,” Viper grunted and lowered his crossbow. “Don’t you worry. I’ll get the varmint yet.”

  Leaning his crossbow against a rock, Viper applied a heel to Reecah’s shoulder, rolling her onto her back. He stooped over her waist and slid her sword from its sheath, nodding his head. “What have we here?”

  Viper handed the thin handled sword to Jaxon.

  “Wow, this is nicer than your sword.” Jaxon tested the weight before handing it back to Viper.

  Viper glared at him but didn’t object. Placing the tip of Reecah’s blade against her cheek, he asked, “Where does a worthless wench like you come by weapons like this?”

  Reecah jerked her head sideways but didn’t respond.

  Viper followed her with the sword. “Steal them?”

  The campfire at her back prevented her from wriggling any farther. She glared at him, refusing to answer.

  Viper placed the sword tip under her nose. “Have you ever tasted steel before?”

  Her eyes crossed. She shook her head ever so slightly, sweat casting a flickering sheen on her face in the close proximity to the flames.

  “Come on Viper. Joram won’t be happy if you damage his prize,” Jaxon said placing a hand on Viper’s forearm.

  Viper cast him a dirty look. “His prize? We caught her. She’s rightfully ours.”