The Orphan and the Shadow Walker

by Graeme Bourke

  An effervescent light filtered through the patchwork of clouds from the glowing moon, it was enough for her to see directly opposite and into the distance. She could see the wedge shaped indentation that indicated the pass through the mountains that led to Darfor, the capital of Steppland.

  Where the camp was situated was supposedly where the armies had finally met, where Thomas Letcher had defeated the Steppland army, where the flag of the Shadow Walker had appeared.

  She turned her head to the left. If any soldiers came they would be travelling north up the main road that crossed over the saddle. From the road down into the fields it would be easy to encircle the town and the whole camp. No one would be able to escape. She could not see their wagons in the darkness as the shadow of the trees and the hill hid them. They could not be encircled easily, and besides, being such a small group they wouldn’t demand much attention, she hoped.

  Always think a head, always have a plan, expect the unexpected.

  She had half a plan, which was better than nothing, tomorrow she would fine tune that plan. It was quiet and peaceful, maybe too peaceful. Standing there in the darkness she could smell the peppermint and pine as it drifted down from the trees behind her. She suddenly felt, sensed a presence. Her hand went to her sword as she peered into the darkness, into the trees. She could see nothing.

  “A young woman should not be alone on the fields of Tursy at night.”

  Mica turned sharply at the sound of strong male voice to her left. Where had he come from? The man stood some ten feet away and was dressed in a hooded black robe that almost touched the ground. His head was slightly lowered, making it impossible for her to see any of his features. He was tall and well built with broad shoulders.

  “I’m able to defend myself,” she replied, resting her hand on her sword.

  “It is most unusual to see one so beautiful carrying a sword and dressed as a man.”

  “It serves my purpose.”

  “And what is your purpose?”

  “It is no business of yours.”

  “No, you are right. I should not have been so forward, I apologise.”

  “Apology accepted.”

  “You travel with the pilgrims?”

  “Yes, I’m with my uncle and the tinker.”

  “Ah yes, the tinker and his rather slow companion. I have seen them before, they come every year, like so many others. I’m not sure what they expect to find here.”

  Mica shifted her hand from the pommel of her sword. For some reason she felt relaxed, at ease with this stranger who would not show his face. She cast her eyes over the flickering lights of the fires around the many tents and wagons. There were maybe fourteen or fifteen thousand people here. “Maybe they come here to try and find some hope.”

  “There is no hope in this land,” he countered.

  “I disagree with you,” said Mica as a wisp of wind billowed the stranger’s cape. She saw that he wore a sword and had a long dagger in his belt. His right hand, gloved and black, rested on his belt not far from the sword. The cape closed as the wind died.

  “They come in their thousands to pray with the priests and then leave, it achieves nothing.”

  “They come in hope that from the ashes of the past a leader will rise. The flag of the Shadow Walker was a sign, a sign of something for them to believe in.”

  The man laughed; a soft condescending laugh. “I doubt there is any such thing as a Shadow Walker.”

  “Then why was the flag hoisted here on the fields of Tursy? It must have been placed for a reason. It wasn’t some sort of joke.”

  “No, it was no joke; that much I can assure you.”

  “Who are you?” she enquired, her curiosity aroused.

  “Just a pilgrim, like yourself.”

  “I’m not a pilgrim. I am here for a reason. Something is going to happen.”

  “You have the Sight?”

  “I sense things, I don’t see anything. I have no visions.”

  “Well, you are an extraordinary young woman, you sense things, you have no fear and there is a passion within you. You dress as a man and you are obviously adept at using that sword otherwise you wouldn’t be wearing it. What is your name?”

  “Mica.”

  “Who taught you how to use a sword?”

  “A warrior, a man who knew about weapons and treachery. He took me in and raised me.”

  “You are an orphan?”

  “I have no one that I know of.”

  “Then you are alone?”

  “I’m with friends.”

  “Ah yes, the tinker and the storyteller.”

  Mica had not mentioned that her uncle was a storyteller. How did this man know that?

  “It has been a real pleasure talking to you, Mica.” He turned and was about to walk off when he looked back at her. “This warrior who took you in, who raised you, who taught you how to use a sword, did he have a name?”

  “His name was, Agar.”

  “Agar,” he said the name slowly as if it meant something to him. “We will talk again, Mica.”

  The black cape swirled about his legs, revealing shiny black boots as he walked off, blending into the night, disappearing in an instant as if some sort of spectre.

  Who is this stranger dressed in black, she wondered as she turned and strode back to the wagons. Gabriel and Adar were sitting around the fire. Adar was writing on the ground in the dim light, memorizing those few words he had been able to learn from his lessons. He was a lot slower than the children but he tried hard, was very eager, and was pleased with himself when he finally grasped a new word. Gabriel was sitting sipping at his wine, probably celebrating his work day. He had sold a lot of goods and had made a handsome profit. Of Elijah there was no sign.

  “Elijah hasn’t returned?” asked Mica.

  “No.”

  Mica sat down on the log next to Gabriel.

  “You have travelled these lands for many years, Gabriel; have you ever seen men dressed solely in black?”

  “Most men wear black, it is a common colour.”

  “What about men with black hooded capes, black gloves and boots, and who don’t show their faces.”

  “No, I don’t think I’ve ever seen men dressed like that, but I have heard of them,” said Gabriel, staring into his glass of wine. His eyes shifted sideways to look at Mica. “That’s how Shadow Walkers were supposed to have dressed.”

  * * *

  The next morning, Mica called the people together and spoke to them. “As I told you before, Argon warned me, told me to camp away from the fields and that’s why we are here. What I want to know is: who among you have had experience in fighting?”

  Adar was the first to speak. “I can use the staff.”

  Mica cast her eyes to the other men.

  “I’m afraid I won’t be much help,” said Gabriel, “I’m just a simple tinker.”

  “A sword is too hard for me to handle, but a bow I can still pull,” added Alex.

  The rest of the men were able to use a sword to varying degrees, so that was something at least.

  “We will speak again tonight. I want to prepare a plan in case anything happens. We have women and children to protect.”

  They all went back to their respective fires to finish off their breakfast. Some were silent while others spoke in low voices to each other.

  “You seem sure that something is going to happen, Mica?”

  Mica looked down at Gabriel who was sitting beside the fire. “I can feel it in my bones Gabriel. I can almost chew on it.”

  “Have you the Sight?” asked Gabriel, inquisitively.

  “Maybe Gabriel, but I prefer to call it a woman’s intuition.”

  “That I can understand,” he replied.

  “Adar, you might come with me, I am going to check out the forest and a suitable escape route.”

  Adar jumped up from his seat, glad to summoned, glad to be with Mica.

  They strode through the ring of wagons.

&
nbsp; “Where are you going?” asked the beaming Robin as Mica and Adar walked past her wagon. Her parents were sitting back enjoying the early morning sun, the blue smoke from their fire drifting straight up into the air. There was no wind.

  “Just for a walk, do you want to come with us?”

  “Can I, Mother?” she asked, with some excitement.

  “Yes, I don’t see why not.”

  Mica put out her hand and Robin clasped it tightly as they made their way through the forest.

  “When I grow up I’m going to be just like you,” said Robin.

  Adar laughed. “Little Robin no handle sword.”

  “I can learn,” she pouted.

  “You should learn other things, Robin, like reading, writing, cooking and sewing.”

  “Do you know how to do all those things?”

  Mica noticed that the undergrowth was sparse. It would enable them to move quickly through the forest. “Yes, I know how to do all those things.”

  “Then I shall learn them.”

  The forest thinned out and the ground began to slope away. “Stay here Adar with Robin.”

  Mica walked down into the gully but when she reached the bottom her feet began to sink into a soft, grassy morass. A marsh. The river that ran through the town must flow through here somewhere, she thought. This marsh could have worked against them, could have become a trap, but now she would make it work in their favour and against anybody that pursued them. She turned and walked back up the hill.

  “What did you find?” asked Robin with her usual inquisitiveness.

  “A marsh and a way out of here.”

  “How are we going to cross the marsh?”

  “We’ll make ourselves a path, Adar, a pathway of ladders that we will take with us as we go.”

  She now had a plan in mind. They would be as prepared as they could be. She hoped against hope that nothing would happen, that the children would not have to see or experience the sorrow that she had felt all those years ago. It still hurt, the ache in her heart was still there. It would always be there.

  When she arrived back at the wagons she found Elijah had returned a little worse for wear. “Not feeling well?”

  “I’ve felt better,” he replied, dipping his mug into the bucket of water and taking a long drink.

  Mica explained her plan to him, their escape route over the marsh.

  “It’s a good plan; let’s hope we don’t need it.”

  They were kept busy all day making ladders, making a path across the marsh. Mica also marked the trail with strands of red wool. Someone could become lost in the rush or if panic ensued. When it was finished Mica felt a lot more comfortable and far more at ease. In the evening she returned to visit Melissa.

  “I expected you earlier, Mica, what have you been doing?” she enquired, leading her into the privacy of her own tent where they sat down on the soft cushions.

  “Just checking out the lie of the land,” she replied, deciding not to tell her about the escape route just yet, as it might not even be needed. “I was taught to be cautious, to prepare myself for any event.”

  “Like a warrior.”

  “Yes, like a warrior.”

  “I think you and my brother would make a good pair as that’s the sort of thing he does. He reads about old battles, studies them and I’m sure he would love to be part of a battle or even a war.”

  “It could happen,” said Mica as she looked at Melissa, seeing only innocence in her youth and beauty. She had never known heartache, had never suffered, she had been sheltered from the worst that Islabad had to offer.

  “Well, I would hope not, war only brings death and destruction.”

  “I saw more people arriving today,” said Mica, changing the subject.

  “Yes, I reckon this will be the biggest crowd ever.”

  “Gabriel, the tinker we’re travelling with is doing well.”

  “All the businesses do well this time of year.”

  Mica noticed a rack of dresses at the rear of the tent. She stood up, walked over and began admiring them. “These are beautiful,” she said as she let her fingers trail over some of the soft fabrics.

  Melissa stood up.” Do you want to try some of them on, you are about my size.”

  “Can I?” said Mica with a burst of enthusiasm.

  Mica could only ever remember having one dress of green and gold silk that she had worn on the day her parents were killed. Since then she had always worn men’s clothing as she didn’t see herself as a woman. She wanted to be a man, to fight in a man’s world and to take her revenge.

  “Would you like to try this red one,” said Melissa holding it out in front of her.

  “Red is not my colour.”

  “What is your colour?”

  She thought for a moment, she had never known bright colours, she decided on blue.

  Melissa spun back around and sifted through the rack. “Now this is the right dress for you.” She was holding up a long blue, silk dress.

  Mica took off her outer clothes and put the dress on, the silk folds falling elegantly against her slim figure.

  “Mica, you’re so beautiful, the dress suits you perfectly. Every man in Tursy would be chasing you if they could see you now. Turn around.”

  Mica pirouetted.

  As Mica turned back around, Melisa expected to see her smiling to see a sparkle in her eyes, but there was nothing, her face looked sad.

  “Is their something wrong, Mica?”

  “Wearing a dress brings back memories, some of them good, most of them bad.”

  “Elijah told father what happened to you and he in turn told me, I feel for you Mica, I don’t know what I would do if I ever lost my parents.”

  Mica was surprised that Elijah had told Martin the truth, but then they were old friends, he must trust Martin otherwise he would not have done so.

  “Father has a way of seeing through Elijah, he didn’t believe that you were his niece.”

  “It was just something to tell the authorities in case we were ever asked, you know how suspicious they can be.”

  “One has to careful here in Tursy, there are spies here, there are always arrests.”

  “So I’m told.”

  “You can keep the dress, it’s a gift.”

  “Melissa, are you sure?”

  “I’m very sure.”

  “Thank you.” She gave Melissa a hug. Then she took the dress off and put her own clothes back on. This was her first dress as a grown woman. For the first time in a long time she felt happy. All she needed now was an occasion to wear it. “Well, I’d better be getting back.”

  Melissa folded the dress and handed it to Mica.

  She took it in her hands and felt the softness and quality of the silk, this was no cheap dress.

  Making her way back in the darkness Mica was suddenly aware of someone close to her. She instinctively drew the sword, stopped and slowly turned in a circle, her eyes peering into the darkness and her ears listening for any unnatural sound.

  “For a person who claims not to have the Sight you are quick off the mark.”

  Mica, glared at the robed, hooded figure. He had appeared as if from nowhere once again. “If you keep sneaking up on me like that you will end up with a sword in your gullet.”

  “Put your sword away, I mean you no harm.”

  Mica hesitated for a moment and then slid the sword back into its scabbard. He stayed far enough away so that she couldn’t see his face beneath the hood.

  “I see you have made yourself a path across the marsh, an escape route so to speak. Did Agar teach you these things?”

  “Yes.”

  “What else did Agar teach you?”

  “He taught me to read and write.”

  The man nodded his head and then began to walk slowly around her, his black gloved hand went to his sword beneath the robe. Mica put her hand to her own sword. He stopped and peered at her from beneath the hood. She could almost see his face.

  He
stopped walking. “I’m sorry, it’s a habit of mine, you understand.” He took his hand away from the sword, Mica did likewise.

  “I suppose you can cook as well.”

  “I’m able to feed myself.”

  “Did Agar teach you about medicines?”

  “You speak as if you knew Agar.”

  “Where is this, Agar?” asked the hooded stranger, ignoring her question.

  “He died of a lung disease. I could do nothing for him as none of the herbs worked. I gave him a warrior’s funeral.”

  “Very fitting, that is how I would like to go.”

  Mica was becoming intrigued by this softly spoken man, who had imposed himself upon her for no apparent reason. He had an air of confidence and a certain natural poise as he moved somewhat lightly and a little gracefully when he walked. It was as if he was her teacher and she the student. Was he playing some sort of game?”

  “Why do you dress so?” she asked.

  “There are those who would have my head, I have to stay hidden if I am to live.”

  “What did you do to deserve self imprisonment?”

  “Once, I believed in something, Mica, something that has now eluded me and has put me at odds with the king.”

  Was this man a Shadow Walker? Was this Edmond, the one who had placed the flag on the fields of Tursy?

  “Maybe it’s time for a Shadow Walker to show himself, for him to become what he should be, an inspiration to the people.”

  “You speak of things you know nothing of, of times long gone.”

  “You forget; I have the Sight.”

  “So, now you embrace your gift.”

  “I have always had this awareness.”

  “If this Shadow Walker appeared, what would you expect of him?”

  “That is not for me to say. His destiny, like mine, is linked to the fields of Tursy, that much I know. It is here that the future of Islabad will be shaped just as it was fifteen years ago.”

  “You have wisdom beyond your years, Mica. You are a woman to be admired.”