Magic, Myth & Majesty: 7 Fantasy Novels

by David Dalglish

  She took off her gleaners bag and handed it to Sandy. “If you’d hold that for me, Sandy?”

  She nodded solemnly.

  “Just hold the top open so everybody can put their stalks of mint into it.” She turned the half dozen children around her. “I’ll cut, you each take a bundle and put it into the bag that Sandy’s holding, cut end down and leafy end up. Understand?”

  They nodded but not very convincingly.

  “Good!” She got down on her knees in the drying soil and pulled her belt knife once more. She collected a handful of mint stalks, used the knife to slice them off just above ground level and passed the handful to the nearest child. She grabbed the next handful and repeated the process. She collected like types together, collecting several handfuls of common green peppermint before moving on to collect a large bundle of gray-leaved catmint. The more she cut, the more she identified, and the more she came to admire Mother Alderton’s work in getting all these mints in one place.

  They worked for almost a whole hour before the children became bored with the process. On the plus side, they’d nearly filled the gleaner’s bag with various mints from common green mint to a pungent peppermint and a musky, gray-leaved catmint. There was even some lavender mint—not the woody lavender ground cover but a mint that carried some of the same oils and aromas that the woody lavender had. She called a halt to the gathering, thanked the children lavishly for their aid, and dismissed them with a wave before clambering ponderously to her feet. Her knees didn’t want to unbend and she groaned quietly as the circulation took a more vertical path. She hefted the gleaner’s bag onto her shoulder. The bag weighed more than she expected and she realized that it was probably a good thing that they’d stopped. She needed to bind and hang the freshly cut stems for drying and that much plant matter would take a bit of time to sort and bind properly.

  She hobbled across the short distance to her back door—hips and knees letting her know that next time she should have the shorter members of her gathering crew kneel on the ground. A few items of small clothes had not blown away earlier so she collected those and took the whole lot into the hut. As she lowered herself gingerly down the steps, she was surprised to realize she felt renewed. Breathing the fresh scents of earth and plant, feeling the sun on her back and the breeze in her face had given her new spirit, new strength after two terrifying days. The boyos were still lurking in the undergrowth and there was still the curious relationship with the ravens, but she felt like these were, somehow, more manageable.

  She smiled to herself. Being with the children for the afternoon didn’t hurt either. They were so young, so earnest. Riley reminded her a bit of her own Robert as a small boy, all sturdy leg and nut brown summertime skin. She sighed half in regret, but half in contentment as well.

  Inside the hut, she stoked up the fire and cleared the table so she had room to work. With front and back doors open the day’s light provided all the illumination she needed and, indeed, it felt good to get out of the direct sun. The heat of the day still carried weight, even so close to the equinox.

  Mother Alderton had left a ball of string on her shelves and Tanyth used the rough twine to bind the stalks of mint together, twining the stem and string in a way that left them collected together neatly without being crushed. As her fingers worked the string and stalks, her mind gnawed at the problem of the riders, and as terrifying as the dream episodes had been, she found herself wondering if she could use them to find the men and see what they were doing; to see if they were still out there somewhere, ready to make trouble. She used her broom to lift the bundles up to iron nails driven into the rafters where only a few days before she and Amber had pulled down the old and musty crop of dried materials. It didn’t seem possible to her that so much had happened in so short a time.

  With the last of the cuttings bound and hung, the hut took on the pungent aroma of fresh mint. Tanyth found it quite relaxing and a pleasant change from the neutral—and slightly dusty—aromas of ash and grass that had permeated the hut. She drew a deep breath and thought again of the raven.

  She closed the doors, casting the interior into near darkness except for a cheery flame in the hearth. She crossed to the cot and folded up her small clothes, stowing them in her pack once more and feeling satisfied that she’d have fresh clothes on the morrow. With the bedroll cleared, she stretched out and deliberately closed her eyes thinking of the ravens and the boyos and willing herself to see what the men were up to. In moments she fell asleep.

  After what seemed like only a few moments she awoke again. The light had shifted to late afternoon and her fire had burned down to a few embers. She felt quite rested but slightly disappointed that she’d not been able to contact the ravens and that she didn’t know what the men might be up to, or even if they were still there.

  She rose sighing and used the poker to pull the roasted chestnuts out of the hot ash before poking up the coals and adding a couple of fresh sticks. Her woodbox was getting a bit empty and filling her tea kettle almost emptied the water bucket. She wondered if she could impose on young Riley to refill one or the other for her.

  “You’re gettin’ lazy in your dotage, old woman.” She scolded herself good naturedly, but she had to admit, that having somebody take care of these two particular chores made life much more pleasant.

  15

  A Warning

  While the tea kettle warmed, Tanyth took her bucket to the well. As she stepped out the front door, she saw Frank sitting on the ground in front of his hut across the way. He was whittling on a stick, and judging from the pile of slivers around him, he’d been at it quite awhile. He smiled when he saw her and gave a jaunty salute with the tip of the blade.

  She waved back and continued on to the well. By the time she’d gotten there, Frank and Riley had fallen in beside her, man on one side, boy on the other. She was amused and a bit taken aback by the attention.

  “Afternoon, mum.” Frank’s weather-creased face carried a gentle smile around the eyes.

  “Hello, Frank.” She turned to the boy. “And hello, Riley. Recovered from our gathering?”

  He looked up at her. “Yes’m. Actually t’was fun. Woulda been funner if we coulda cut some.” He shrugged. “But ‘twas fun learnin’ about the different mints. Ma says I can have some mint tea tonight with dinner.”

  Frank’s mouth twitched in a smile. “You mind what Mother Fairport tells ya, boy. She’s a rare one.”

  Tanyth considered the ravens and wondered if Frank knew the half of it, but she nodded to him in acknowledgement of the compliment.

  “What’cha doin’ now?” Riley eyed the bucket in her hand.

  “Fetching some water and I’ll need to refill my woodbox, too.” She looked down at him. “You don’t know of a strong young man who might help a poor old woman out, do you, Riley?”

  Frank snorted in what sounded suspiciously like a suppressed laugh and she shot him a wounded look. “What? You don’t think I’m a poor old woman?”

  He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “Mum? You’re the least poor old woman I’ve ever seen in my life.”

  His amused tone carried an undercurrent of admiration that Tanyth found both unexpected and warming. “Do I need to hobble more?” She teased him playfully. “Perhaps I need to be bent over a bit?”

  He turned to her with a grin. “Well, mum, if you think it needful, but I’m not sure anybody over the age of twelve would believe it.” He leaned forward and eyed Riley as they walked.

  The boy saw him looking and, not quite following the conversation, announced. “I’m gonna be ‘leven this winter!”

  The two adults were careful not to laugh.

  At the pump, Tanyth put her bucket under the spigot and Riley helped Frank work the long lever to fill it. In a few moments the splashing water overflowed the rim with a cheerful slosh. She reached for the bale but Frank’s strong hand was there before hers and he hefted the heavy bucket easily.

  “I’ll get that for yo
u, mum.” He smiled and arched an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t want a poor old woman to hurt herself luggin’ water back from the well.”

  “Thank you, Frank. Most kind.” She smiled and bent over in a mock hobble, shuffling her feet through the grass.

  Riley eyed them both with a skeptical look in his eye, but offered no commentary.

  Frank laughed and started out for her hut at a brisk pace, the bucket swinging easily at the end of his arm.

  She straightened and picked up her stride to catch up with him.

  Riley’s short legs meant he practically had to run to keep up.

  At the hut, she swung the door open and Frank took the bucket in and placed it near the hearth and slipped the cover on it.

  “Thank you, kind sir. It’s most appreciated.”

  He smiled and headed for the door again. “You’re welcome, mum. Any time.”

  She followed him out onto the grass and looked at the shadows beginning to reach across the village. The peeled sticks marking the corners of the future inn’s location showed up whitely in the gathering dusk.

  “Will you dig another well, do you think?” She asked it idly, the question popping out of her mouth without thought.

  He looked where she was looking and caught the meaning at once. His expression turned thoughtful and she could see him measuring the distance from the pump to where the inn would go. “That’s a good question, mum.” He considered the location of the inn and then turned back to look at the well. He snorted. “Much work as diggin’ a second well would be, and getting’ another pump working, might be easier to just take down those two houses and put the inn over the well.”

  She turned to look at the area in question and then at the markings on the ground. He was right. There were only two huts near enough to matter, Sadie’s and Megan’s. “Where would Sadie and Megan go? You’d have to build new huts for them.”

  Frank shook his head. “There’s four or five standing empty now, mum. When we built ‘em, we built enough for 20 families. We’re down to less than 12 now and some of the single boys have moved into individual houses. They really should be doublin’ or even triplin’ up just to save the fuel in winter. Takes a lot less wood to heat one house than it does three.”

  She nodded. “Would they mind movin’, d’ya think?

  He shrugged. “Could ask, but I suspect it don’t matter to them.” He nodded his head to indicate the various houses. “Case you haven’t noticed, they’re all the same. Only difference is where they sit. There’s a couple of nice private spots on the far side of the village, might suit Sadie and Thomas better anyway.”

  They stood there long enough that Riley got side tracked and ran off on some important boy business.

  As he scampered off, Frank spoke softly. “You haven’t seen anybody else hanging about, have you, mum?”

  She shook her head and glanced at him. “Have you?”

  He shook his head and gave her a sideways look. “We should tell Thomas and William about it.”

  She nodded her agreement. “Right now, I want my tea. The water should be hot.” She looked at him shyly. “Can I offer you a cup?”

  He smiled and didn’t look at her. “Actually, mum, that sounds real good, but I’ve got some things need seein’ to so maybe another time?”

  She felt a pang of let down but nodded. “Of course. Kettle’s always on.” The old formulas of housekeeping were coming back to her. None of the teachers she’d had over the past twenty winters stood much on ceremony, but the rituals of hospitality were well ingrained.

  With a nod of his head, he strode off in the direction of the barn.

  She watched him go for a moment before turning back to her hut. The water was probably hot and she was ready for a cup. She would also have to talk with William and Thomas soon, but still had no clear idea what the riders wanted. She splashed a little hot water into her teapot to christen it but paused as she reached for her rapidly dwindling cache of black tea. She had no way to get more and decided to husband what she had for the moment. She rummaged in her pack and found a small parcel of dried, crushed rose hips and smiled. “This will do.” She crumbled a couple of the hips into her pot and pushed it a bit closer to the fire to steep. It would take a little longer to steep than the black, but the taste was one she enjoyed. She remembered the large rugosa in the forest and made a mental note to harvest as many of the rose hips as she could.

  The crunch of wheel on gravel announced William’s return about the time she was finishing her tea but she didn’t hurry out. He’d need to deal with Bester and she suspected that Frank would meet him in the barn and fill him in on the details. She wasn’t sure what she could say about the raven episode. The less she needed to talk about it, the happier she’d be. She filled in the time by sorting out the chestnuts, groundnuts, and apples from where she’d dumped her gleaner’s bag earlier in the day. She left them in neat piles on the hearthstone and remembered that she needed some baskets to store things in. She reckoned that William had had time to care for the ox and get the highlights from Frank, so she grabbed her staff and hat and headed up to the barn. With luck, she’d be able to duck in and duck out again.

  She opened the door and stepped out just as Frank with William and Thomas in tow, rounded the corner from the barn. Frank pushed a barrow of firewood in front of him and the other two waved as she stepped into view. She waved back and waited.

  As they approached, Frank walked the barrow right up to the door and the three men proceeded to fill her woodbox from the barrow in next to no time at all. Thomas even hung a pair of dressed gamecocks on a hook beside her door to season. He smiled shyly and nodded his head. “Sadie thought you might like these, mum.”

  “Thank you, Thomas, and thank Sadie for thinking of me.” She turned to include them all in her gaze. “And thank all of you for the wood delivery. I was going to need some soon.”

  William nodded. “Any time you get low, mum, you let one of us know. We’ll see to it that you have wood.”

  Frank grinned at her and winked conspiratorially but said nothing.

  William went on. “Frank here tells me you saw one of those boyos in the wood this morning?”

  She nodded. “Yes, I did. I thought I saw somebody in the edge of the wood so I went up to the barn and fetched Frank. He went with me while we looked it over.”

  He nodded. “Do you mind going with us while we look the place over for ourselves before it gets any darker?”

  “Not at all.” She started out across the village, making a bee line directly toward the large oak.

  The three men fell in behind her and they walked in silence. When they got to the edge of the woods, Tanyth stopped and pointed with the head of her staff. “He was in there just after dawn and watching the village.”

  Thomas gave her a long, sideways glance before he slipped almost noiselessly through the low brush and into the woods beyond. William turned to look back at the village, surveying the scope of the view.

  Frank spoke into the growing silence. “I figger they musta sent one fella up to the quarry to see what we were doing up there, left another here to keep an eye on the home fires.”

  William nodded. “Good assumption. Even if they didn’t, we’re probably better off thinkin’ they did.” He finished his survey of the village and shook his head. “The question is what do they want?”

  Frank shrugged. “That’s the question, i’n’t it?” He nodded to Tanyth. “If Mother Fairport hadn’t seen it, we wouldn’ta known. As it is, we know but we don’t know what to do about it ‘cause we don’t know what they want.”

  From the darkness under the trees, Thomas’s voice seemed eerily unattached to any body. “We’re about to find out I think. There’s riders coming up the Pike.”

  They stood silent for a moment and then heard what Thomas’s ears had already picked out—hoof beats on the hardpan surface of the road. Not moving fast, but more than one set.

  Four familiar shapes rode into view and wheeled into
the track to the village. With a grunt, William led the way across the sward to meet them before they got too close.

  The sun wasn’t quite down, and spears of light worked across the village, through the trees and between the huts. The leader of the small band, the dapper fellow, reined in his horse so that one of the transient bands of light illuminated him dramatically. Tanyth almost snickered when he turned his body and practically posed in the beam of setting sun.

  William took a few more steps and halted a few feet from the riders. He snorted and spit on the ground. “Hello, Andy. Haven’t seen you in a while.”

  The leader flinched, losing his composure for a moment and peering out of the brilliant light into the dimmer evening all around him. “Who’s that?”

  William stepped into the next band of brightness, casting himself in clear evening sunlight. “You don’t recognize me, Andy? I’m hurt.” William’s voice was anything but hurt.

  The leader screwed up his face in a frown, trying to remember. He started to shake his head, but then the penny dropped and he frowned. “Pound me, but if it isn’t William Mapleton. Sakes alive.” The leader’s face was transformed by a smile of false camaraderie. “I had no idea this was where you were livin’ now, William.” He looked around at his men. “Did you boys know?”

  They grinned without much humor and shook their heads, making a big show of it.

  Andy turned back to William and flashed his coattails back in a flurry of red satin lining. The pommel of his sword gleamed as he leaned forward on the bow of his saddle. “This is a right pretty little place you got here, William.” He smiled with his teeth. “Be a right shame should anything happen to it.”

  “Don’t even think it, Birchwood.” William fairly spat the name.