Silvermay

by James Moloney

  ‘How much longer do we keep up this wild-goose chase?’ said the shaven-headed man to no one in particular.

  It was the man on the unruly horse who answered. ‘Has there ever been an easier way to earn a sack of gold? Find a young mother and steal away her baby. You won’t even have to draw your sword,’ he said contemptuously.

  The other man grunted. ‘What does Coyle want with the brat, anyway?’

  ‘Do you care, as long as you’re paid?’ answered the third man. He grinned, revealing gums that lacked as many teeth as his hand lacked fingers.

  ‘We dare not cross Coyle now we’ve taken on this task,’ warned Queasel, still battling his horse. ‘He pays well for deeds properly done, but he’s cruel to those who fail him. He’d think it a great joke to hack off the rest of your fingers and watch how you feed yourself.’

  The fingerless man went pale beneath his weathered skin. ‘Aye, he would, too,’ he muttered.

  ‘We were too soft on those villagers back there,’ said Shaven-Head. ‘That girl was with them for three weeks. Surely they knew where she was headed. We should have put a knife to a few throats and seen what they had to say then.’

  Queasel gestured towards the man who paced his horse back and forth among the trees. ‘Our Wyrdborn friend sensed there was no more to tell,’ he said. ‘To dally longer in that village would have been a waste of time.’

  Before any more complaints could fester into words, the thudding of hooves echoed along the road. The men didn’t draw their swords but they didn’t hail the approaching rider, either.

  ‘He’s lucky to have one of Coyle’s horses,’ said Shaven-Head to Queasel. ‘I wish you’d sent me to Vonne with your report.’

  ‘If he’s coming at that speed, then he has news from the next village,’ said the fingerless man.

  ‘Well, have they been seen?’ called Queasel when the rider was close enough.

  The new arrival was panting heavily as he pulled up amongst them. Through gasps of air, he managed to say, ‘No, there’s been no family, no woman, no baby, along the road for days.’

  ‘I thought as much,’ said Queasel as the rider who’d been scouting the edge of the woods rejoined them.

  ‘I’ve sensed something,’ he said. ‘A horse entered the woods here, I’m sure of it, and there were at least two people walking alongside it. There’ll be woodcutters’ paths, and tracks made by villagers when they go hunting.’

  It was clear he expected no one to doubt him. None did. He turned his horse back to where he’d been scouting, as though he didn’t care whether the others followed him.

  They did.

  Queasel urged his fractious mount forward, muttering, ‘Wyrdborn powers chill my spine, but if it helps us find this woman and her little brat I don’t care how unholy the magic.’

  Two days had passed since I’d gone hunting a deer only to come back with a rabbit and the warm touch of Tamlyn’s chest on my palm. We’d spent those two days steadily climbing, not so steeply that the horse buffeted Nerigold too roughly in the saddle, but enough to have me puffing every now and then, especially with Lucien to carry. It didn’t seem to matter whether I put him over my shoulder or carried him in my arms, no position was comfortable for long.

  We had more to worry about than the rising ground, however. Nerigold was becoming weaker, and by mid-afternoon couldn’t sit upright in the saddle for a minute longer.

  ‘We have to stop,’ I insisted when I saw Tamlyn looking at the track ahead. ‘Do you want her to fall out of the saddle again?’

  ‘I’m sorry. I should show more concern. It’s just that …’

  ‘You’re worried they’ll catch us,’ I said. ‘Whoever these people are you think are chasing you.’

  ‘Oh, they’re chasing us, Silvermay. Don’t doubt it. We’ll stay ahead of them as long as we keep going.’

  ‘Not today, though,’ I said, and it surprised me how much I sounded like my mother.

  Nerigold was asleep as soon as her body lay full length on the ground. I covered her with a blanket, painfully aware of what a slim shape she made under the wool.

  ‘Look, she’s shivering in her sleep,’ I said. ‘The strength she built up under Birdie’s care is disappearing more each day. If she gets any thinner …’ I didn’t want to say it out loud. Instead, my fear showed itself in a single pair of tears I couldn’t quite hold back.

  Tamlyn watched me silently. No, more than that, he watched me intently, as though he had never seen such a thing before and found it intriguing.

  ‘What?’ I said slapping the tears away quickly.

  ‘You’re upset for Nerigold. Because you can’t bear to think of what will happen if she grows weaker,’ he said.

  I nodded, wondering what was going on inside his head. ‘Of course,’ I said. ‘Sometimes, a couple of tears help me bear the sorrow.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Silvermay. You said it yourself: my family are harsh people — that was the word you used. My father especially, but I’ve never seen tears in my mother’s eyes, either. You show me ways to feel things that I never expected to feel.’

  I was confused. Was he talking about Nerigold? But surely he felt even more for her than I did. I looked down at her lying so deeply asleep. My mind flew back to that day in the woods when I’d seen him kill the hawk so callously. He had shown no remorse, yet he was a gentle man, I was sure of it.

  Tamlyn seemed to read my thoughts. ‘That morning, when the hawk came to me … it was a strange moment for me. I had to kill it — and no, I still can’t tell you why — but when you called out and I realised you’d seen me do it, when I saw the horror in your face and heard such anger in your voice, that’s when I felt regret for what I’d done.’ He spoke as though he had never felt regret before in his whole life.

  ‘What a strange man you are,’ I said, and this time I took hold of his forearm as he’d touched mine that night outside my home.

  ‘I wish I could tell you more,’ he said.

  ‘You’ve told me more than you think already. More than you’ve ever said to anyone, I’ll bet.’

  He held my gaze solemnly until I let go of his arm. There was more I could have said: that I felt honoured to be the one he spoke to of such things, possibly for the first time and with an intimacy that I’d never shared with anyone, not Birdie, not Hespa. I was more in love with him than ever after this brief glimpse of a vulnerability I had never imagined. I was certain he’d never let anyone see it before, and he might never show it again to anyone, not even me.

  9

  Ravine

  Heroes are men who win battles with nothing more than courage and the swords in their hands. That’s what I remember from childhood stories. Now and then, a woman, or even a girl, is the brave one who fights off enemies or leads her people to safety in the face of heart-stopping danger. A heroine whose spirit and deeds make her stand out like a proud flame for all the rest to admire.

  On this journey, I learned there is another kind of heroine: one who never touches a sword, nor leads the way; one who doesn’t shine among others, yet shows more courage in her heart than any story could ever tell. Nerigold’s strength was ebbing with every mile we travelled and she knew it better than Tamlyn and I did. An illness had hold of her; it had defeated my mother’s potions and now she was wasting away to skin and bone. Each day, it was a struggle just to stay on the horse and not give in to her weary muscles when they demanded rest. Undaunted, though, Nerigold stood beside the horse each morning, her hands reaching up for the pommel, and called to Tamlyn, ‘Help me into the saddle,’ as if she were looking forward to an hour’s canter along shaded lanes.

  One morning, at least, we were given a good omen for our journey. Before we’d travelled more than a mile, the ground levelled out in front of us as far as we could see, ending at a stand of tall pines in the distance.

  ‘I wish the way could be this easy all the time,’ said Nerigold.

  It wasn’t quite true that our view ended with the trees. Beyo
nd them, rising in the far distance, was our first sight of Nan Tocha’s mountains, the highest dusted with snow even though it was only early in the autumn. I knew from what Birdie had told me that, come winter, all the peaks would be covered in white and much of the land around them as well.

  I hitched Lucien up over my shoulder and walked on, enjoying the flat ground. ‘We’ll worry about the mountains when we get there, won’t we, Smiler?’ I said.

  Tamlyn was ahead of us, leading Nerigold’s horse by a halter. When the mare stopped unexpectedly, I almost walked into her haunches.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ I asked.

  Tamlyn stared past my shoulder. He remained silent for a moment then made a face. ‘Nothing,’ he muttered, starting up again.

  But when we were only a hundred yards from the pine wood, he turned again. ‘There’s someone behind us,’ he said, and immediately urged us forward as fast as we could manage.

  Halfway to the trees, I dared a glance over my shoulder and caught sight of the figures myself: not one, but four or five on horseback. They would run us down in no time.

  ‘What will we do?’ I cried to Tamlyn. ‘We can’t hide among these trees. It’s too open.’

  ‘Hurry,’ he shouted, which seemed foolish to me. They’d seen us already, and it didn’t much matter whether they caught us among the pine trees or once we emerged on the other side. Nevertheless, I struggled to keep up with Tamlyn who led the horse while Nerigold held on for dear life. The constant shaking up and down made Lucien cry, but we somehow made it as far as the trees and charged on, clear to the other side.

  And that’s where we stopped, because there was no other side. Oh, the trees came to an end right enough, but so did the ground leaving Tamlyn and me to stare down into a wide ravine. The river that had gouged it out of this high plain was still hard at work hundreds of feet below.

  ‘The Great River; we must be near its headwaters,’ he said, as though we were there to explore the territory around us.

  What did it matter which river it was? I tore my eyes from one danger to watch for the other coming towards us. The men would reach us in a matter of minutes.

  ‘What are we going to do?’ I asked as Tamlyn helped Nerigold down from the saddle.

  Tamlyn’s answer was to draw my father’s sword from the scabbard hanging from the horse’s flank.

  ‘But there are five of them,’ I warned. They were close enough to count now.

  He ignored me. I realised he would take on all five and die before my eyes. Then it would be my turn, most likely. They might not even spare the baby.

  I passed Lucien to his mother so I could fight, too.

  ‘No, Silvermay,’ cried Tamlyn. ‘Lucien must stay with you.’

  ‘But my bow! I can kill one of them at least.’

  ‘There’s no time to explain,’ he called again. ‘Do as I say.’

  That wasn’t the way to speak to Birdie Hawker’s daughter. All he did was rouse my stubborn streak. Unhooking the bow from the saddle I slipped the string over my head until the bow came to rest diagonally across my back. The quiver of arrows went over the other shoulder, and I was able to take little Smiler in my arms again.

  ‘All right, then,’ Tamlyn conceded. ‘But the baby must stay with you. Now, look away,’ he said. When I hesitated at such a strange order, he lost patience and shouted, ‘Look at the men as they come. Don’t look behind you.’

  Why? I wanted to shout at him, but he’d moved out of my sight. What was he going to do that I wasn’t allowed to see?

  ‘Do what he asks,’ Nerigold said in a voice that struggled to stay calm. And in case I was thinking of flouting Tamlyn’s command a second time, she took a surprisingly strong grip on my arm.

  Moments later, I heard the low whoosh of steel slicing through the air and the ring of the impact against wood, yet the sound was deeper and more forceful than I’d ever known. Instinct made me want to look, but Nerigold held me tighter than ever. The sound was repeated soon after. The steel could only be Father’s sword, but what was Tamlyn doing with it?

  The answer came quickly. A deafening crack filled the tiny forest and immediately after came the rip and tear I recognised as a tree about to fall.

  This time Nerigold couldn’t hold me. I spun around with Smiler in my arms, in time to see a massive pine at the ravine’s edge begin to topple away from us. Although the riders were charging ever closer behind me, I had to watch the tree fall. The sight was simply too grand to tear my eyes away: a giant tipping over before my gaze.

  The massive trunk didn’t plunge into the ravine as I’d expected. When it fell level with the ground, a crash louder than I’d ever dreamed possible filled my ears. Little Lucien jumped in fright, almost spilling out of my arms.

  Across the ravine, the top of the tree had thumped into the dirt, crushing the topmost branches to splinters and pulp and making the thicker end on our side rear upwards in response. But then it settled to the ground again, amid clouds of dust that rose onto the breeze. When the ear-splitting sounds died away, what I saw before us wasn’t a fallen tree but a bridge waiting to carry us to the other side.

  ‘Come here to me, quickly,’ Tamlyn called to us.

  To reach him, Nerigold, Lucien and I passed close to the stump left by the fallen pine. It showed two clean planes where it had been cut, the rest torn off savagely when the trunk began to topple.

  I paused astounded. ‘How did … it must be six feet across. It would take two men all day to …’

  I stopped my babbling because Tamlyn was already helping Nerigold onto the fallen tree. After handing Lucien up to his mother, it was my turn to scramble onto the rough bark. As soon as I was on the bridge, Tamlyn moved to the end of the trunk and levered himself up with the strength of his arms and a single spring from his legs. His feet had just cleared the curved edge of the cleanly cut log when a sword thudded into the wood.

  In the rush, I hadn’t looked to see how close the men were. Now, they were upon us, five of them surrounding the end of the log. We were high above them, and I had seen enough fighting to know this gave us an advantage, but against five …

  Every instinct told me to unhook the bow from my shoulder, but Tamlyn had forbidden me once already. I’d done what he asked and we were still alive. So far. I took Lucien back into my arms, since he had insisted on that, too. If we were to cross this most unusual bridge, it was my job to carry him.

  Suddenly I became aware of the silence and the men standing stone still below us. Even with the advantage our high position gave us, it only needed one or two of them to distract Tamlyn while the others swarmed onto the tree. Instead, they stood staring at us, like men facing a phantom.

  Then I saw it. They weren’t looking at me, or Nerigold. All five had their eyes on the man who stood ready to fight them off. And they were rigid with shock.

  ‘Lord Tamlyn,’ one of them called finally. ‘You are the girl’s husband?’ His voice suggested this was the last thing in the world he could imagine. ‘Your father said nothing of this.’

  The others stirred. There was fear in their faces, surprising to see when five men faced only one.

  ‘They know you,’ I said. ‘Tamlyn, what’s going on?’

  The sound of my voice roused him. He looked quickly over his shoulder and seemed startled to see us. ‘Go,’ he shouted harshly. ‘Get Nerigold and the baby to the other side.’

  He didn’t need to say more. He would hold them off, but mother and son were for me to worry about.

  I stepped past Nerigold and, when she stayed looking at Tamlyn and the men who would soon attack him, I took her hand and led her along the trunk to the branches. These had spent all their years pointing at the horizon; now some pointed to the sky, some straight downwards, and the rest at odd angles. As we reached them, I saw them only as obstacles we had to squeeze past. But as we moved out beyond the lip of the ravine and found ourselves staring all the way down to the river below, I changed my mind. Now the branches were handle
s to keep us from falling.

  ‘Are you all right?’ I asked Nerigold, when we reached halfway.

  I was terrified that her grip might weaken at a crucial moment, or she could become dizzy as she’d done more often in these last days.

  Nerigold nodded, reluctant to waste even a single breath on words. Or perhaps she was listening, as I was, to the clash of steel that echoed around the ravine. With so many pine branches behind us now, we couldn’t see the fighting and just as well. Our job was to reach the other side. My job was to make sure all three of us did.

  Nerigold was exhausted. At each obstacle, she grasped the branch, waited while she took deep breaths, and only when she was ready did she tip herself off balance, her grip on the branch all that saved her from falling. I made her go ahead of me and stayed as close as I could, bracing my feet to hold me on the tree trunk in case I had to use one hand to grab her.

  My other hand was holding Lucien tight to my chest. And then, before any of my paltry precautions could be of use, she slipped. It happened so quickly there was no time to lunge forward to catch her hand or her dress, even a hank of her hair to haul her back. With a sharp scream she was gone.

  The horror was too much for me and I closed my eyes and screamed as well, a long, loud scream that would mask the sound of her frail body striking the river’s surface below.

  When my breath gave out, I stayed there, eyes tightly shut and clutching Lucien, who was so suddenly without a mother. Then …

  ‘Silvermay.’

  A voice. What was happening?

  It came again. ‘Silvermay.’ It was Nerigold’s voice. I opened my eyes. She hadn’t reappeared on the trunk in front of me, but it was definitely her.

  ‘Down here,’ she called.

  I dared look and there she was, lying on her side with her head turned up towards me, as stunned to see me as I was to see her. She’d fallen, but only as far as the ground that supported the top end of the pine tree. We’d reached the other side of the ravine only two paces before she fell. Two paces, but that was enough.