With a last hiccup, the laughter subsided. Her sleeve scrubbed across her eyes, drying them. She stood and took a deep breath.
Okay, for the moment I am the only person left. Tonight, I will eat and sleep. In the morning I will figure out what to do.
With this resolution, she loaded another half-dozen apples in her arms and retreated to the fire. She tossed a few more boards on. Flames leaped, scattering a flock of red fireflies that swirled toward the moon.
Using her shawl as a bed, hugging herself for warmth and comfort, she slept.
CHAPTER 6
Leena woke feeling someone watching her. The feeling was not from a dream. She was so exhausted she had no memory of dreaming. A tingling at the back of her head alerted her she was being observed. She knew enough to trust her senses.
Without moving, she slitted her eyes slightly open. No good, the fire was directly before her. She sat up and, while stretching to ease cold-induced kinks in her body, casually looked around. No one was in sight. Whomever or whatever watched was not ready to be recognized. For the moment, she would pretend she did not know anyone was there. She would go about her business until she found a way to make them reveal themselves.
But what was her business?
She reached to the pile of boards, threw several on the fire, selected an apple, and began to eat. Much of her energy had returned. Another day of rest and she would be back to full strength.
The dead deserved to receive proper rites. The duty often fell to a hedge witch when no holy was near. Although she was not yet a hedge witch, she was all that was available. She could not let the dead wander lost.
Then what?
Then she had to find out what happened to her family. Once she set the village in order as much as she could, she would take the North Road. Whatever had done this went in that direction. Hopefully, somewhere she would find someone that knew something.
Breakfast finished, she shook snow from her shawl and settled it around her shoulders. It was time to get to work.
She went first to the Woodsman house. The old couple lay embraced, just inside the door to their bedroom. Their half-charred remains held each other for support as they had for ninety years of marriage. Looking at them, Leena swallowed a lump in her throat. As sad as it was, at least they died as they lived, together. She envied them that.
They were too heavy and too delicate for her to lift. She had to find something to move them on.
Again, Leena found herself searching the village, this time for a cart or barrow she could use. Behind the blacksmith shop, she found the anvil barrow had been far enough from the shop to escape fire damage.
Old Hotchkiss had used the barrow to transport tools when he traveled to work at outlying farms. It was much like a plank table with two handles at one end and an iron wheel and two legs forming a tripod beneath.
The device was simple. However, Leena quickly found maneuvering it was an art. The contraption was far heavier than it looked. Her first attempts to control it left abstract designs in the snow as though a drunken snake danced through the yard. She remembered talking to Old Hotchkiss as he strode easily through the village pushing this barrow with his anvil, ingots, and tools on it. It looked so effortless.
When she nearly tipped the barrow on its side while attempting too sharp a turn, she thought she heard a stifled giggle. She had grown so used to the feeling of being watched she ceased to notice it. She would have to be careful.
Eventually, she mastered some control over the barrow. She could have used her hedge witch wand to make the job easier. However, instinct warned her she dared not reveal her magic to the watcher until she knew who was hiding and what they wanted.
Slowly, carefully, she returned to the Woodsman house. Despite their condition, the old couple looked loving. How could she get them on the barrow? She could not lift them together and she did not have the heart to separate them. She would have to use the wand.
Carefully, she scanned the area. She saw no one, but that meant little. Standing between the barrow and the door to screen her actions as much as possible, she drew her wand and used it to gently lift the joined couple and lay them tenderly together on the rough wooden surface. Hurriedly, she stashed the wand beneath her blouse, grabbed the handles of the barrow, and wheeled it clumsily through the front door.
"H’lo."
She jumped as though a thunderclap had gone off next to her. The handles ripped from her hands as the barrow’s two legs clattered forward in diminishing bounces to a stop.
She spun to find a boy standing next to the door.
"I’m sorry M’lady. I din mean to startle you." The boy looked truly frightened and alarmed by what he had done.
Her heart racing, Leena looked at the lad. He seemed around twelve, though small for his age, with blond hair and dark brown eyes. Where had he come from? What did he want? Was this the watcher?
"Who are you? What do you want?" she instantly regretted the harsh words. His lower lip started to tremble as he tried to answer. Yes, she had been frightened, but it was not the boy's fault.
"I’m sorry." She said, hoping to slow the tears she saw building. "I've had a hard few days. I didn’t mean to take it out on you."
She squatted, placing her hands on his shoulders to look into his eyes. Within, she saw a depth that seemed far older than his years. What had this boy been through?
"Are you hungry? I have some apples."
"I’m starving M’lady. It’s been days since I’ve had aught."
"Well, come on then. I’ll finish this later. Let’s get you fed."
His accent was strange, almost archaic.
Where had he come from? How did he get here? Why was he here? How had he escaped the disaster that destroyed her village?
She had so many questions, but did not want to intimidate him with a barrage right now. She suspected there would be plenty of time later. She threw a few more boards on the fire and, while he ate apples, went back in the store to see whether she could find more food. She remembered behind the counter was a floor entrance to an underground storage shelter. Perhaps the shelter had survived and maybe it held more than apples.
The blackened iron ring was undamaged. Fire swollen hinges squealed like a butchered pig as she lifted the door and peered below.
The first three rungs of a sturdy ladder were visible, unmarked by fire. Beyond, the cellar was cloaked in darkness. Should she return for a torch? Should she even take a torch into the cellar when its ceiling would be dry, scorched wood? Or should she use her hedge witch wand? What she really needed was a candle but they would have been consumed in the fire.
She looked through the doorway into the street. The boy sat, munching apples, staring lost into the fire. She would have to use her wand. What warned her not to use magic around the boy? Surely he had seen hedge witches before. Every village had one or had one nearby. Still, the thought of using magic around this child made her nervous. She would descend and shut the trap door so he would not see the light.
On the fourth rung she reached up and pulled the door shut. Two more rungs and her foot touched the dirt floor. Her illumination spell showed nothing in the cellar was damaged.
They would not starve. Shelves were lined with sacks, cloth wrapped bundles, corked earthen jars, and covered wooden containers. Where there were no shelves, large sacks and barrels lined the walls. The cellar was fragrant with the smells of fruits, cheeses, and grains.
She opened a cloth to bare a round of cheese. She had no knife so she broke off a large chunk and rewrapped the bundle. In a large wooden box she found dozens of bread rolls. She loaded several in her shawl with the cheese. Looping the makeshift pack over her shoulder, she returned to the ladder.
The cellar was black without her illumination spell. On the second rung of the ladder, she reached up to open the door. It would not budge. Something was holding it shut. This did not make sense. The door had no latch only the ring to lift it open.
She pushed harder. Nothing mo
ved. The door felt as if it had become part of the floor surrounding it.
She thought back. She had seen no roof beams that could have fallen. The counter was destroyed. Even if its remains fell on the door, it could only weigh a few pounds. What could be locking it?
A small creak came from the wood above her. Someone, or something, was in the room, standing on the door. If it were the boy, she should have been able to move it at least a bit. He was so small and could not weigh more than sixty pounds. She could move that much.
What was his name? He had not said.
"Boy! Are you up there?"
Whatever waited made no sound.
"Boy! I’m down here. Can you lift the ring and let me out?"
It remained still, blocking the trap door. She could use a spell to open it, but she suspected that was what the thing wanted.
CHAPTER 7
So be it. She had enough food. She could wait until it got bored and went away. Leena retreated down the ladder and sat on the floor.
Her eyes were adapting to the darkness. She could now see thin slivers of light penetrating cracks between the boards of the floor above. Okay, there was nowhere she had to be and no reason to hurry getting there. She had all the time in the world.
A shadow flickered across the cracks toward the front door. Could it have left? She heard no sound. The shadow might have been nothing more than a bird passing over the roofless store.
"M’lady?" The boy’s voice came from the front door. "You still in here?"
Leena sprang up the ladder. The trap door yielded easily.
"I’m here." she said as her head cleared the ruins of the counter. "There’s a cellar and I went down to get more food. Were you in here just a moment ago?"
"No, M’lady. I noticed you’d been gone a while and came to look for you."
Perhaps the warped wood had wedged the door and she had imagined the rest. Or maybe he had been here and was afraid to admit it for fear she would... what? Make him leave? Hurt him?
His expression was so closed she could not imagine what was going through his mind.
As they warmed by the fire, she broke off a wedge of cheese and passed it with two rolls to the boy. They sat munching, staring into the flames, lost in thought.
"What are we going to do now, M’lady?"
Leena glanced along the street to the barrow containing the Woodsman couple.
"I suppose we’ll have to build a bier large enough to hold nineteen people. Once that’s done, we can lay them to rest properly. That will take most of the day. After that, we can decide what we’ll do tomorrow. Okay?"
"Are you a holy, M’lady?" His eyes had gone round with wonder.
"No, my mother was the village hedge witch here. So, though I’m no hedge witch, I suppose it's alright for me to send them on their journey. Anyway, I’m all there is. Unless you are a holy?"
"Oh no, M’lady." He looked so appalled at the thought that Leena could not help giggling.
"I’m just teasing you, but please, call me Leena."
"Leena?" he seemed shocked by the name.
"Yes." What caused this response? "Have you heard my name before?"
She stared at him closely, trying to figure what caused his surprise.
"No, M’... Leena. It’s just not a name I’m familiar with."
"So, what is your name and where are you from?"
"Arvin, and I’m from Wedgelin, to the north." She had not heard of Wedgelin.
"How did you end up here? Where are your folks?"
"It was the Great Wizard’s troops, same as here."
"What?" This was unthinkable. The Great Wizard had ruled and kept peace in the world for more than nine hundred years. He had become the symbol of all that was good and just. "I don’t understand."
"Me neither, but a bit more’n three weeks ago, the Great Wizard's troops attacked the village at dawn. They burned the town, killed all that was too old to work, then captured everyone else and sent them north. My guess is they’ll be used as slaves."
"But why?" it was a rhetorical question and Leena expected no answer.
"Some of the troops said they was looking for a Garlan branch. They said they would release everyone if someone was to turn over the branch to them. Otherwise, they would all work as slaves forever."
"What?" Leena jumped to her feet as though stuck. She could feel the rough branch against the skin beneath her tunic. Her thoughts spun in confusion. Surely the Great Wizard could not know about her branch. She had told no one about her trip.
Through the confusion, she noticed the boy staring intently at her. She could not read his expression. She had to think of something to say.
"Has the Great Wizard’s Garlan branch been stolen?"
"Don’t know. Guards didn’t say nothing about that. My guess is the Great Wizards’ branch is protected by such magic as to make it impossible to steal. That’d mean there’s another, don’t you think?"
His tone and expression were so probing Leena felt her eyes avoiding his, or was the branch against her belly making her paranoid? She had to change the subject before she said something she would later regret.
"So your parents were taken?"
His face turned quickly away. Again, he stared into the fire. She saw his lower lip tremble and tears shelving the bottom of his eyes. They were answer enough.
"How did you get here?" she asked quietly.
"I was gathering wood for the morning fire when they came. I tried to get back to save my Ma and Pa, but tripped on something under the snow and hit my head against a tree. By the time I woke, all the villagers was roped. The head guard was telling them if they’d turn over the branch and the girl that had it," again the penetrating gaze, "all would be set free to go on about their lives."
A chill shook Leena.
"Did they mention the name of the girl they were looking for?"
"I’d rather not say."
"Arvin, you’ve been through a lot and I think together we can work our way out of this mess, but it means we are going to have to trust each other. What was the name?"
For a moment he stared at her, his lower lip tight with control. Suddenly, he jumped up.
"Leena! Leena! Leena! It’s you they was looking for. You’ve got the branch that can save my Ma and Pa. It was cause of you the whole village was destroyed!" He stood crying, pointing a pudgy, dirty little finger accusingly.
Without warning, he spun and ran away up the North Road. The sounds of his cries diminished slowly in the quiet morning air.
CHAPTER 8
Leena watched him go. Although she could easily catch him, it would do no good. He had to decide what he wanted to do and either return or find his way without her. She had too much to think about without worrying about him.
As she spent the day building a bier and loading the charred bodies, her mind worked on the implications of what he said. She had no reason to suspect his story. It went a long way toward explaining his suspicious actions. Like her, his primary goal would be to rescue his parents. However, it should be obvious, even to a twelve-year-old, that she would not trade the safety of his parents for the safety of all people. Then, to a lad his age emotion overruled logic. His parents would be his world.
If he returned, she would try to explain that giving up the branch did not mean his parents would be saved. In fact, it could mean they, with everyone else, could be lost.
She should have known the Great Wizard would know there was a disturbance in the Garlan tree. Only he could have sensed a time of great trouble was coming and a branch would be given. However, with all his power, why wouldn’t he just come and take it away from her?
Maybe he feared her branch would be more powerful than his. After all, his was nearly a thousand. Possibly his had lost some of its power in that time. In that case he might capture and enslave people to use for ransoming a new one.
That would mean he had to keep her parents and sister alive to have something to trade. She had to find wher
e they were held and try to save them, after she laid the village to rest, and without giving up the Garlan branch.
Was this the time of great trouble the Garlan branch was given to fight? How many villages were between the Great Wizard's castle and here? Scores, maybe hundreds. The capture and enslavement of that many people would be a time of great trouble. However, it did not make sense. If there were no new branch, there would be no time of trouble.
That meant the time of great trouble was still to come. If so, she could not give up the Garlan branch, even to save her parents. When the time came, she would have to find another way to save them, then use the Garlan branch to fight whatever else was coming.
Dusk bathed the village in an orange glow, extending sharp toothed shadows from the destroyed buildings. Nineteen forms on the bier waited patiently for Leena to complete the words and ritual that would release them from this world.
With the last word, Leena drew her old wand and ignited the dry wood. Yellow flames crackled, licking the darkening sky. As flames grew, the residents of the bier settled, sending their spirits up in a fireworks display of red sparks and gray smoke.
Leena bid each friend farewell and wished them a long and pleasant rest in the fields beyond. She sat and watched the consuming fire through the night. Her mind numbly reviewed scenes of pleasant moments with each of them.
Morning sun bathed the large pile of ashes in a warm golden glow. Leena waved her hand over it to ensure there were no lingering embers. The pile was cool. She raised her hedge witch wand and brought a wind to scatter the ashes back to the earth. Her friends’ spirits were at rest.
She descended back to the cellar, leaving the trap door open, and selected a variety of foodstuffs to load her shawl. Carrying the bundle would be difficult at first, but its size and weight would diminish as she traveled north.
At the edge of town, she turned for a last look at roofless walls and blackened stone. In her memory, she could see the bustling village it had been. She vowed that somehow, someday, she would return and restore it.
Leena turned and trudged north without another glance back.
CHAPTER 9
Late in the evening, she arrived at Stocksbury. The town had always been the trading hub of nearby villages. Leena had fond memories of planting season and harvest festivals here. The town had nearly a thousand residents, but during festival it swelled to more than five thousand with the arrival of celebrants from outlying villages.
Home Lost Page 4
