Gordy had told her that the stable boy was a Manute and would soon be returning to his home for winter, and he knew all about Santomine. He suggested that she have a word with him.
After they had eaten, Elijah stayed on to weave his tales while the rest of them retired, all except Mica. She slipped on her hooded cloak and went to the stables. It had stopped snowing but the ground had hardened into a frosty crust. Her boots crunched through the icy layer as she strode to the weather-worn wooden door of the stable. She pushed at the door. It creaked on its leather hinges. It was gloomy and dark inside the stable. She closed the door. “Have you no light?” she said, sensing that the boy was there watching her.
A tapir flickered. An innocent, young, boyish face stared at her from out of a ring of yellow light. Then he moved the lit tapir down to an oil lamp that sat on a box. As the light gathered she could see that the young man had a rudimentary living space eked out in one corner of the stable. He stood up, letting the thick hide he was using as a blanket slide to the floor. He was taller than Mica by several inches. Even though he was thin the bulkiness of the furs he wore made him look bigger.
Mica let the hood of her cape fall away as she stepped closer to the light, closer to the boy. She saw his eyes move over her, taking in her attire, her sword and maybe even her figure that could still be distinguished beneath her clothes. He was a young man after all. His eyes returned to her eyes.
“You are Manute?”
The young man just nodded, it was as if he was too scared to speak.
“And you know of Santomine, know where it is?”
He nodded again.
“Could you take us there?”
“It...it is forbidden to take strangers there,” he said, finally finding his voice.
“What do you know of the lowlands?” she asked, hoping to find another way to make him come round.
“Only what I hear in the inn. It is ruled by a bad king and the people suffer greatly, that is why our people don’t allow strangers into our land.”
“What do you know of the Shadow Walkers?”
The young man’s eyes flickered; they now showed some interest.
“What if I told you that I have seen a Shadow Walker, even spoke with one?”
“That’s impossible,” he said, gasping slightly in surprise.
“Why?”
“Because they don’t exist anymore, everyone knows that.”
“Inside the inn is a storyteller; he travels with us and at this very moment he is telling the people in there about the existence of a Shadow Walker, about his arrival on the fields of Tursy.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“Believe what you will, but it was the Shadow Walker who told me I should go to Santomine.”
“He told you to go to Santomine?”
“Yes, he was quite adamant about it.”
“Santomine is said to be the birth place of the Shadow Walkers.”
“Is that so?” said Mica.
He had said that she would find safety there, but was there more to this, was he using her as some kind of messenger? Who was at Santomine? “Tomorrow morning we leave this place, we are going to Santomine regardless.”
“They will not let you through.”
“We shall see,” said Mica, smiling at the boy.
“Why do you wear a sword?”
At first Mica tried to think up some answer that would cover the situation, some small lie perhaps, but she looked into the innocent eyes of the young boy. Lies would do this boy no good. “Do you have parents, siblings and relatives?”
“Yes, back in my village.”
“I have no one. Because all that was dear to me was taken from me by evil men in the lowlands. That is why I wear a sword.”
“What’s your name?” asked the young man, gaining some confidence.
“Mica.”
“And yours?”
“Yost, I’m from the village of Bredal, my family lives there.”
“You are a fine looking boy, your family should be proud of you. In the morning we leave for Santomine, with, or without your help.”
Mica turned, left the stables and closed the door behind her. The moon had risen and now bathed the ghostly land in an eerie light; it was almost equal to daylight as the silver of the moon bounced back off the white of the snow. She stopped and took in the fairy-like scene before her. Days before, she had witnessed the horror of killing on the fields of Tursy and she had been part of it, taking more lives in her quest for revenge, and it wasn’t over yet. The peacefulness of the scene before her brought back thoughts of what her life might have been if her parents were still alive. They could have been happy and living in a state of peace, much like the picture before her now. But it could not be, could never be, until she had taken her revenge and found out who she was.
After Mica had left, Yost sat quietly in the flickering shadows of his lamp. He had never seen a woman so beautiful, and to top it off, she was a warrior. That was what Yost wanted to be, a warrior, but a fall from a horse a few years ago had injured his hip leaving him with a permanent limp. In the Manutes, the first son was always trained to be a warrior, to be the protector of their lands. This duty now fell to his younger brother, Gavin, who was already preparing himself for a warrior’s life, while Yost had to be content with menial tasks. The money he received from working with Ma Kelly was gratefully received by his family; it was the least he could do.
His thoughts went back to this woman warrior, her quest to reach Santomine and her story of a Shadow Walker returning to the fields of Tursy. Was this true? If it was then this would be news that he should carry to his family, to his village, and to all the Manute people.
Here was his chance to do something that would make his family proud of him, something that a warrior would do. He could not fight, but he knew the land of the Manutes, knew how to reach Santomine. If he could not be a warrior then at least he could be part of what was happening in this land, part of the destiny of this woman warrior.
Elijah had finished his story telling, in fact, he had made it as short as he could, for he was tired. They all were from their journey up the mountain road. On returning to the room he found that Mica wasn’t there. Gordy told him that he she had gone to the stables to talk to the Manute boy. He went to see where she was. On leaving the building he saw her standing out in the open, her back to him. She was looking around at the moonlit land. He himself could not help but be drawn to its splendour too.
Without turning around, Mica spoke to him although he was some yards away and behind her. “Your story telling is over, Elijah?”
Yes,” he replied, suddenly aware that she knew he was there and who he was without even looking around.
Back in Cragmoor the inn-keeper spoke of Mica as having the Sight, he hadn’t believed it then, but with each passing day he was convinced that the inn-keeper had been right. Too many things had happened. She seemed to know in advance what was going to occur, or if someone was approaching them, like the bandits on the road to Tursy.
“They are finding it hard to believe that there is a Shadow Walker. They were also asking questions about you. They want to know who you are.”
“What did you tell them?”
“I told them you are my niece and have been trained as a warrior.”
“I suppose that will suffice. As for the Shadow Walker, when word reaches the four corners of the land, when his deeds are told, they will believe.”
“You think the people will rise against the king?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Well, nobody can do much over the winter. It will be the spring that will bring the fighting if it is to happen,” said Elijah with a shiver.
“In the meantime we go to Santomine.”
“And after Santomine?”he asked.
“I still have one more man to seek for the death of my parents and after that I want to find out who I am. Those are the things that are most important to me.”
“What about the Shadow Walker and what’s happening in Islabad?”
“It’s all intertwined, Elijah, it is all part of our journey.
They returned to their room where most were sleeping, all except Gabriel, who was sitting on the floor smoking his pipe. “They say we have no chance of reaching Santomine.”
“Everyone is saying the same,” replied Mica, finding a space on the floor and settling down with her pack as a pillow. She pulled her cape tighter around her.
“Goodnight, Gabriel.”
* * *
“Lucy, are you all right?” asked Mica, resting her hand on Lucy’s shoulder as she spewed the contents of her breakfast up in the snow outside the inn.
She looked up at Mica. Her face framed by her tousled blond hair was pale and her eyes watery. “I think I am with child,” she said with a forced smile.
“Does Stan know yet?”
“No, I was waiting to be sure.”
“I’m so happy for you, Lucy.”
“Yes, but where will my child be born, where will its home be?”
“Don’t you worry about that, I will find a place for you and your child, a place of safety,” she said, immediately thinking of Santomine. “When do you want to tell Stan, he will be worried about you if he sees you being sick?”
“Later, he will only fuss over me if he finds out.”
“Is that so bad?”
“No,” she replied, still smiling.
Mica put her arm around Lucy’s shivering body and helped her back into the inn where the others were finishing their breakfast.
“Lucy, what happened?” asked Stan, his green eyes showing obvious concern.
“It must have been something she ate,” added Mica, sitting Lucy down.
“I feel a lot better now,” said Lucy, reaching across the table and grasping her husband’s hand.
“Mica,” said Gabriel, “we’re going to need some more horses. It will be too hard walking in the snow.”
“He’s right, Mica,” added Gordy. “The snow is only going to get deeper.”
“Horses will be at a premium at this time of year and more so up here,” said Elijah.
“I’ll see what I can do,” said Mica, striding across the floor toward the kitchen where Ma Kelly was working. The smell of fried bacon wafted through the air.
The inn was a hive of activity, some of the men were eating their breakfast; some were gathering their goods and donning warm clothing as they left the inn to take the last of the seasons ore carts down to the lowlands. Others were paying the clerk at the counter. All of them, at one time or another, glanced at Mica, aware of her beauty and also of the sword she carried.
Ma Kelly wiped the sweat from her wide brow, the heat from the fire was welcoming to Mica, but not so for Ma Kelly who backed away from the heat as Mica approached. “Good morning, did you sleep well?”
“I’ve slept better, but don’t get me wrong, it was dry and we are all very grateful.”
“Well, it is officially winter, are you still hell bent on going on in this weather?”
“It’s fine outside.”
“This is just the lull before the storm. The men are leaving. Soon it will be just me, my servants and a few hardy soles.”
“Take some words of advice, Ma Kelly, leave here before the end of spring, or at least have an escape route worked out.”
“Is this to do with the Shadow Walker?”
“Yes. The people will begin to fight the king. He will send his armies north, and I fear he will try and make sure that there is no opposition left this time, and it will be especially so for the Manutes.”
“I will heed your advice.”
“I need horses. We are willing to pay a fair price?”
“How many do you need?”
“We will need four.”
“I can’t give you the best horses you understand, because if what you say is true I will need the best ones for myself,” said Ma Kelly, undoing her apron and throwing it over one of the chairs at the large wooden table in the centre of the kitchen. “I’ll be back in a moment,” she said to the middle-aged couple working with her in the kitchen. She threw on a heavy hooded cloak and tied the leather laces together; then she led the way out the back door to the stables. Mica followed her.
“Yost, where are you?” she yelled on entering the stables.
Yost appeared from out of one of the stables where he was attending to a horse. It was saddled and a second horse was standing at the rear loaded with some packs. Mica looked over at Yost’s corner where he slept. It was completely bare. Ma Kelly saw the same sight. “Are you leaving us, Yost?” she asked.
“Yes, it is time I went back to my family.”
“I was hoping you would stay a little longer this year.”
Yost looked at Mica as he spoke. “I think the time is right for me to go back. If we get some heavy snowfalls I might not get away from here at all.”
Ma Kelly was about to enquire if he was coming back next year when she remembered what Mica had told her. She might not be here herself and she suspected that Yost was leaving now so he could ride with this young woman and her entourage.
“This lady needs four horses, not the worst and not the best, you understand?”
“I will have them ready within the hour.”
Yost left them as Mica and Ma Kelly haggled over the price. Mica ended up paying twice the normal rate, four silver coins. She now only had her gold coins left.
Mica returned to the inn where the others had gathered their gear and were preparing to leave. “Gabriel, I must speak with you,” she said as she drew him aside.
“Yes,” he said as he complied, knowing that she wanted to speak to him in confidence.
“You have change, plenty of money?”
“Too much I fear, Mica. I worry about bandits.”
“As we all do, Gabriel.”
“We will need to buy more food and supplies along the way. I have some money but it is in gold coins, if you could exchange one of these for some loose coins, I would be grateful, as to pay in gold would invite danger.”
“Keep your gold, Mica. I, along with everyone else, owe you my life. The soldiers would have slain us back in Tursy.”
“Well, it’s your decision, Gabriel.”
“So it is, Mica,” said Gabriel with a smile.
When they went back to the stables all the horses were ready. “I will ride with you to Grada,” said Yost to Mica.
“You’re most welcome, Yost,” said Mica with a grin. The boy was coming round, his curiosity and maybe the thought of some adventure had spurred him on.
They set off at a steady pace and rode in silence for most of the day. The boy eventually taking the lead, it was a further sign that he had changed his mind. The weather stayed fine and there was virtually no wind as the horses picked their way along the stony track. It was Yost who found them a campsite, a place he knew had been used many times before. It was a small overhang next to a cliff. The remnants of fires and the down-trodden earth was evidence of many years of visitation.
Adar was quickly away looking for firewood. He would have to go further out than normal as all the wood close by had been chopped, lopped and burnt. Gabriel found a spot where he could sit up against the rock and admire the view, which was considerable. They could see back over their trail and further on. It was a good campsite. No one could sneak up on them here.
Stan and Elijah decided to help Adar find some wood. Mica and Lucy retrieved the cooking pots and had some food ready for when the fire was lit.
Yost was hobbling the horses. The boy seemed experienced beyond his young years. Then he prepared his bedroll and his own cooking utensils.
“A nice hot cup of tea would go well,” said Gabriel, stretching himself.
“It would be welcome indeed,” replied Mica, sauntering over to where Yost was sitting.
“The men back at Ma Kelly’s, they are not all miners and traders?”
“No, many
of them are thieves and bandits looking for people to rob.”
“I thought so,” she replied.
“What is the country like we will be going through tomorrow?”
“We will be passing through steep ravines and narrow paths. It is a favourite location for bandits as there are many places where it’s easy to set up an ambush.”
“Can we go around it?”
“Yes, but it would take us at least two, maybe three, days to get to Grada. If you are to reach Santomine before winter really sets in you will need to save every day you can.”
Mica turned her head and looked north at the snow capped mountains in the distance. “Is Santomine in those mountains?”
“Yes, and beyond,” he replied, shifting his own eyes in that direction.
“Have you changed your mind about leading us there?”
“I’m thinking about it, mulling it over,” said Yost, not wishing to let Mica know of his final intentions.
He would have to see his family first and then talk to his father about leading Mica and her small party to Santomine. He knew his father would be against it, especially at this time of the year. They would have to cross over Keepers Saddle, a place of ice and snow, a place where death and winter paired up like two lost friends. If they could reach it before the worst of the snowfalls they would be right, but if the snow was deep, it would be virtually impossible to make their way across.
Later that evening as they sat around the campfire, enjoying its warmth after a long day in the saddle, Mica spoke of the ravines ahead. “Seeing as we have attracted some attention at Ma Kelly’s, I suspect that bandits might try to attack us.”
“You think that guy you tangled with was a bandit?” asked Elijah, leaning back on a huge boulder.
The Orphan and the Shadow Walker Page 17
