by Alice Ivinya
Klia snapped my attention back as I realised she had left my side and was already working on her target. The youngest of the soldiers rode awkwardly at the edge of the group, trying to edge his way into the conversations. Klia tripped right next to his horse, falling dramatically with a squeal. The soldier jumped and clutched his sword before realising what had happened. He immediately dismounted to help the girl in distress to her feet. Klia actually blushed as he steadied her with his arm. How did she manage that touch? Maybe she was genuinely embarrassed. I would be. All the soldiers were looking at her now.
I ran up to the couple in mock concern. “Klia, are you all right? You’re always so clumsy.” Her dark eyes glared at me. I turned to the soldier. “Thank you so much, Sir...?”
Now the soldier blushed bright red. “You’re more than welcome, lady, but I’m no knight. I’m just Reg.”
Klia made a breathy moan and wobbled on her feet as if about to faint. Reg’s attention was back to her at once and his arm wrapped around her waist again. “Are you all right, lady?”
“I’m sorry,” said Klia in a fragile voice. “It’s the heat. I was so nervous before we left that I’ve barely eaten all day.” The soldier just stared at her on his arm as if he’d never touched a woman before. Maybe he hadn’t.
“You don’t have any food and water to hand, do you?” I hinted. “If she has a sit down and a bite to eat, I’m sure she’ll feel better soon. I can look after her.” I held out my hand.
The soldier looked between both of us with his mouth open. “Er... yes, yes. One moment.” He turned to his horse and unbuckled one of the saddlebags.
“Everything all right there, Regald?” called another soldier over his shoulder. He wore an amused smirk.
“Yes, sir, all fine.”
Klia wiped her forehead dramatically. I stepped on her toe. She turned her protest into a cough.
Reg brought out an apple, and I reached for it just as Klia did the same. The soldier looked from one of us to the other, mouth opening and closing.
“I’ll make sure she eats it,” I reassured him. “Just leave us at the edge of the road and we’ll catch up.”
Reg frowned, still holding the apple, and I wondered if we were overdoing it. “No, this won’t do,” he muttered. “You shouldn’t be walking if you feel dizzy, lady. Ride my horse, I’ll lead him.”
Before either of us could object, Klia was mounted on the bay horse with apples, biscuits, cheese and a flask of water. Reg dutifully led his horse along the road and ignored the wolf whistles the other soldiers threw at them.
I hung back with a muttered curse and let myself be swallowed by the villagers. When Reg wasn’t looking, Klia looked over her shoulder and stuck her tongue out at me.
WE STOPPED THAT NIGHT at a Waytree in the forest. It was a huge squat pine, still green and healthy, that easily sheltered the whole party. Surrounded by the grey and brown of skeletal trees, it looked inviting. As the soldiers dismounted and I grabbed my saddlebag from Joff, the young nobleman fumbled in his bag and hurried to the entrance of the tree. He knelt awkwardly in the leaves and buried a seed near the entrance before Growing an apple tree from it. Its branches bowed under the weight of the shiny red fruit and I didn’t think I’d ever seen so many on one tree before. He brushed the dirt from his hands and stood back, hands on hips, as if very pleased with himself. He didn’t look tired from Growing in the slightest. Each person picked one as they pushed through the prickly curtain of pine needles and the air filled with the crunching of crisp bites. A pair of soldiers settled down to guard the entrance, also eating the apples, but they both scanned the trees around us. I frowned. Surely there wasn’t a chance we would be attacked? We were such a big group with armed men. Maybe it was just normal to do this when guarding nobles? I gazed back at the lengthening shadows that bled from the bare tree trunks, and shook myself. I hurried into the Waytree before I started imagining things.
The Waytree branches brushed the floor at their ends, but stood taller than a horse and rider at the trunk, making a huge, round room. In the trunk were carved little shelves and crevices with odds and ends left by previous guests; mostly furs, candle snubs, cooking pots and cracked pottery. The floor was a deep bed of brown needles and the air tanged with their fragrance. I found Reg helping Klia with her bed, so I didn’t interrupt and left them to it. Her father, however, unrolled his bed beside her and scared the poor soldier off with a glare. He didn’t look amused. I sat down near Klia’s mother who walked in a tight circle, comforting her twin girls in both arms, and helped her unpack. She kept looking at Reg and pursing her lips in thought. Potential husband evaluating, I assumed. Well, you did have to squint to see past Reg’s spots, but I guessed he had a kind face and a good job.
“Bea,” I asked as I laid out the bedding for the twins. They always slept under each of Bea’s arms, but seemed to need three times the space of a normal person. “Why do you think we have so many guards?”
“Hmm? Oh, yes, there are quite a few, aren’t there. I suppose desperate times make desperate people, Avan. Not every village has Growers and food, and the rumours about Tharan raids are getting worse.”
“But we’re safe?”
“Of course we are, honey. And we’re safer now than in Vale. Herne has even sent men to guard us. Now be a dear and fetch me some warm water to wash these two, will you?”
Safer than in Vale... I really hoped Ma would be all right. What if Tharans invaded Vale now it was weaker? I shook my head, There were no Growers left to tempt them, surely they wouldn’t attack just to steal meger supplies of food, would they? I knew they raided each other’s settlements in Tahara all the time, and as Bea had said, they would be desperate. What would desperate men used to violence do?
I helped wash and settle the twins for bed, trying to distract myself from my worries. Even as night freshened the air, I was too hot to sleep deeply, and too many people snored or stumbled noisily over bodies on their way to relieve themselves. By dawn all but the soldiers were bleary eyed and stiff, wanting to leave and ease aching joints as soon as possible. Outside, the morning was still seeped in chill, and the forest only made it cooler, with the sun struggling to brighten the leaf litter from its lingering seat on the horizon. Like every morning for months, there were no clouds streaking the sky and little dew.
I’d used my shawl as a blanket, and now huddled inside it as I forced my stiff limbs out of the Waytree to start a fire to heat water for tea. There were plenty of dead, dry branches for kindling and I found some beech logs, chopped and discarded by a previous traveller, which always burn the hottest. I borrowed a heavy iron pot from the Waytree and constructed a makeshift frame over the fire.
“Ahem!”
I jumped and spun around. Klia was reclining beside me with a cup outstretched. She hadn’t wrapped her hair yet and the dark honey coloured curls frizzed out at all angles from her shawl. She arched an eyebrow at me and looked meaningfully at her empty cup. She didn’t offer me any of her water to boil.
I sighed. I was boiling half of my remaining water, which had to last until the well at Maidstone this afternoon. That was the next village the party from Herne planned to collect Growers. I sprinkled peppermint and dragonspur from my tea pouch and stirred the water under Klia’s watchful gaze. Reluctantly I filled her cup and saved half a cup for myself.
We sipped the warm brew in silence, cradling our mugs, as people bustled around us and Joff took over our fire to fry some eggs in the same pot. I kept finding pine needles in my clothes or hair and flicked them into the fire where they flared bright for a moment before they curled to ash.
“Reggie said I should ride his horse again today,” said Klia in smug tones.
I raised an eyebrow. “Reggie?” I asked flatly.
“Yes, I thought I should give him a nickname. Suits him, doesn’t it?”
“Klia, you don’t need to ride and the poor man is wearing chain mail in this heat.”
She gave an exasperated
sigh. “He’s a soldier, Avan. Of course he can walk fine in chain mail. No need to be so serious.”
She gave me a wink and sauntered off, leaving me her cup to wash up. I scowled after her.
THE FOREST WAS UNNERVINGLY quiet as we passed down the road, just the crunch, crunch, snap of dead leaves and sticks under foot. There was no birdsong or chattering squirrels or barking muntjac. I wondered where all the animals had gone. Somewhere with water, I supposed. Surely they couldn’t all have died? The woods felt hollow and achingly sad. Many of the trees still clung to life, but few dared to expose their leaves to the baking sun. Most of the party stayed silent too, as if we were a funeral procession, witnessing the passing of the world. The only people who remained oblivious were Klia and Reg, who talked incessantly as he led her on his horse. I wished one of the other soldiers would tell her to walk again with the rest of us.
We didn’t stop at midday despite the heat, instead pressing forward for Maidstone and water. At last the trees thinned and we entered back into farmland. The heat became oppressive as we left the fragmented shade of the forest behind. I looked around, blinking as the baked earth reflected the sun. All the fields were empty. No crops, no animals, no people. Even Klia noticed the silence around us as we followed the soldiers into the town. The horses disturbed thick dust on the road between the houses and swaying dry grasses made the only movement. The town oak was leafless, grey bark crackling from its trunk, and one of the huge branches lay shattered on the ground. Maybe the Tharans were raiding villages after all?
The soldiers called for inhabitants but nobody answered. Nothing seemed broken by violence and most of the doors were locked closed with nailed horizontal beams. A guard ran up to the two noblemen and reported that the well was dry. I instinctively clutched my water flask. I only had a few mouthfuls left and my tongue was parched and my head aching from walking under the hot sun. I longed to wash my face and hands in cool, clear well water, but now it seemed we would all stay sticky, smelly and thirsty.
The villagers looked questioningly to the noblemen and the older one cleared his throat. He appeared uneasy but in control. “The inhabitants of Maidstone appear to have moved on to a town with water. Clearly there was only so much their Growers could do. We shouldn’t linger but follow the road forward into the woods where it is colder. There is a small stream near the next Waytree. Until then everyone should ration what water you have left.”
I sloshed my water around in my flask. This had to last until evening? Now I really was annoyed at Klia for drinking so much this morning. She wasn’t even walking! There were a few other people grumbling around me, but many seemed too shaken by the empty village and stared around in silence at the gaping windows and dusty doors. At least Vale’s well was dug deep into rock. It couldn’t dry up, could it?
I trudged forward, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. Maybe if I pretended to faint too, I could be led around on some soldier’s horse. Maybe I wouldn’t need to pretend. I glared at Klia’s straight back as she rode the horse like a princess, flirting with Reg.
We plodded in between hollow fields with dried ditches with no shade from the heavy heat. Everything was brown or bleached grey by the strong sun. I was glad for my hair wrap protecting my ears and neck from burning and tried to keep my face tilted to the ground. The thrum of grasshoppers and whispering grasses surrounded us.
Trees darkened the horizon, and we quickened our pace, eager to be back in the shade. The terrain was rockier here with small gullies and short, sheer drops. Grey rocks, splattered with lichen, frequently pierced through the brown grass. The road became shale rather than dust, which skidded and slipped beneath our feet as we entered the forest. Thick undergrowth surrounded the trees; brown, curled bracken and leafless brambles with huge thorns stretched onto the path. Walking took more and more concentration as the path deteriorated. Nobody had been here for a while.
“Halt!” came a shout from the front of the column. “Villagers stay back. Soldiers to your bows!”
I lifted my gaze from my feet in shock. I craned my neck on tiptoes, but could see nothing, so I ran to Joff’s draught horse. “What’s going on?” I asked up to Finn. He should be able to see over everyone’s heads from the animal’s high back.
Finn stood up in the saddle, earning a scolding from his ma who sat behind him, the twins enveloped in her arms protectively. “The soldiers are forming an arc and pointing their arrows at something. It’s big and black. Maybe a bear? By the earth... it’s enormous.”
A woman’s scream behind me made us whip around. In the road behind the villagers were three wolves. All three were crouched, hackles up, ears forward, muscles straining. They looked hungry, their faces hard lines and their abdomens caving in. Slowly they crept forward, hunches bowed so they’d be ready to spring.
Mrs Firth’s chickens squawked in alarm and disappeared into the trees with a flurry of wings. Something golden flashed out of the bracken and caught one chicken in midair with a high pitched snarl and a spray of feathers. I pushed myself further back into the middle of the people.
Joff pulled a long staff from his horse. “Must be Tharans, he whispered to me. You don’t get all these predators at once. Stay behind me, Avan.” I stood behind his huge body and the draught horse’s flanks. One of the twins gave a mewling cry.
The soldiers must have assumed this was a Tharan ambush too because they spread out down our flanks and two placed themselves between the wolves and the villagers. Now they had surrounded us in a thin wall, they seemed so few.
“Your Growers, if you please,” boomed a deep voice with a Tharan accent, lilting and heavy.
We all turned to face the voice. With our soldiers widely spaced, it was easy to see a man wearing a black leather tunic, with no shirt underneath, leaning against the bear. His hair was the same black as the beast. His posture was casual and he flipped a dagger up and down in one hand.
“Stand aside in the name of King Joseph of Marchwood!” the older noble commanded. “These people are under the protection of the crown.”
The man sneered and stood straight, one pale hand still buried in the bear’s black fur. His arms bore scars over thick muscles. “You Farthi have more than enough Growers to survive. Tell your king we’ll return them after the drought is over.” He threw and caught his dagger again. The enormous bear growled in warning.
“We will grow enough food to trade with you once again,” called the chancellor. His voice sounded weaker now. “Two months is all we ask.”
The Tharan gave us a lazy smile. “We would prefer to grow our own food. If you don’t give us your Growers, we will take them by force. This is your last chance.”
The younger boy pushed his horse forward, as if to speak, but the chancellor pulled him back hurriedly. Around us mounted men were appearing through the trees, almost silently. Their horses didn’t snort or whinny, but stood unnaturally still, staring at us. Some men had eagles on their shoulders that cocked their heads as they examined their new prey. Every man was armed with a short spear or hooked sword.
“Let us pass,” the chancellor begged. His back stayed straight and regal, but his fists clenched the reins so hard they were white. His horse danced beneath him, betraying his nerves further.
The snap of a dozen bow strings surrounded us and arrows zipped through the air from above. I crouched and held my hands over my head. The trees. The arrows came from the tops of the trees. Amazingly, none of them hit a person and I wondered if it was a warning. Then the Tharans let out a whooping, eerie battle cry that seemed to spiral around me and mounted men and beasts burst from the bracken.
Chaos broke loose as more arrows flew. Horses were screaming and straining against their reins. A soldier fell to the floor in front of me, unmoving. I looked around for a weapon but nothing was close. I crawled to the soldier and shook him. He was face down and blood was seeping onto the rocks. An arrow protruded from his back. I freed his short sword from his limp grip. I’d never he
ld a sword before and gripped it in two hands, still crouched.
Men were fighting on horseback above us as Tharans charged through the party, wounding and throwing nets on the villagers. I saw Joff slap his horse forward with his family still atop. The huge draught horse towered over everything and broke through the fighting into the trees. Joff ran beside it, lashing out with his heavy staff. I watched them leave me in horror, he didn’t even glance back. As they disappeared into the bracken, I saw Klia and Reg mounted together galloping after them. An arrow struck Reg’s shoulder and he bent forward at the impact but didn’t stop. If they were fleeing, they had to think there was no hope. My hands shook in panic. I had to escape.
I ran doubled over to the back of the party, but the three wolves still guarded the road. One crouched over a woman who shook in terror beneath its paws. I ran back through a corridor in the fighting and danced between the horses’ hooves at the front, my feet skidding in the shale. The black bear still growled, the Tharan leaning against it using his dagger to pick his nails. He noticed me watching from between the horses and grinned. By the Arts, what was wrong with the man?
“We don’t mean to hurt you, girl. Our aim is not to kill anyone,” his tone was light and he spun the dagger higher in the air. He caught it without looking and cocked his head, studying me. “My, my, you have the most unusual hair.” He made a movement with two fingers, looking over my head.
A rough hand grabbed me by my hair and I screamed. A Tharan held me from above and wound his hand tighter and tighter to my scalp. I unfastened my cloth wrap, but it wasn’t enough to shake him free. His other hand grabbed my arm and pulled me up onto his horse. He lay me across his saddle face down but kept an eye-watering grip on my hair. I still held the sword but it was trapped uncomfortably between my body and the horse. I tried to force it free, but the Tharan merely yanked my head back hard.
