by S H Cooper
“You know it’s me, Erik,” I respond sharply. “What’re you doing sneaking up on me like that?”
“I wasn’t sneaking,” he says with a scoff. “I’m supposed to be out here, patrolling. What’re you doing?”
I bite back another cross answer and smooth my dress with short, irritated strokes.
“Nothing. I just...nothing. I’m going home.”
“I heard about your father,” he says as I march past him. “I’m sorry.”
He means well, but the last thing I want is to hear that kind of pity coming from anyone when they talk about Father. I clench my teeth and keep walking away from him. I hear him start to follow me, but don’t turn. Instead, I pick up my pace, hoping he will return to his duties.
Drake has always said that Erik is a boring, humorless lad who lacks the second captain’s fighting spirit.
“Everything about him is dull,” Drake was fond of saying.
I can see it. Dull blonde hair, dull blue eyes, dull personality. He hadn’t even joined an interesting regiment like his father wanted. How disappointing it must have been for the second captain when his son hadn’t been a very good swordsman and been named an archer instead. Even Joseph handles a blade better than Erik!
He’s still following me. He’s been saying something, I realize.
“...you’re going, I want to go, too.”
I jerk to a sudden stop. We’re just on the edge of the forest, closer to the field than Torren and I had been, and I have to be mindful of keeping my voice low so we’re not overheard. “What did you say?”
“I saw you,” he says. “You and the creature. I know you’re planning to leave.”
I’ve never known Erik to be a strong-willed lad. He’s only ever done as he’s told and told off others for not doing the same. When I face him again, he’s wearing an expression I’ve not seen on him before: some odd mix of determination and a readiness to argue.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I try to keep my tone dismissive, but there’s an undeniable note of panic to it.
He narrows his eyes. “Aye, you do. And you’re going to let me come along or I’ll tell your mother before you get a chance to sneak away.”
“You can’t!”
“So I did hear it all correctly!”
I fumble for another excuse, some kind of denial, but he’s standing there so smugly. He knows he’s got me caught. I think quickly and change tactics to appeal to his loyalty and overdeveloped sense of responsibility so he might lose interest.
“It doesn’t matter what you think you heard. What about your father? You can’t leave him alone. And your place in the regiment! You and all the other lads are needed now more than ever!”
“They’ll get on fine without me,” he replies without a moment’s hesitation.
I’m surprised by how unconcerned he is, and he takes advantage of my silence.
“You don’t get it, do you? How could you? The daughter of the high captain. No one expects anything of you except that you’re quiet and do your chores. You’ve never wanted more because you don’t know that there is more! There’s a whole world outside Moorsden and I’m never going to get to see it if I’m stuck as a guardsman my whole life!”
He’s become flush. His words are passionate, something I didn’t think Erik was capable of, and he thumps fist against his chest to emphasize them.
“I want to get out of here. I want to live at least some of my life as someone other than,” he gestures to himself, “this.”
Erik can’t know how much I really do understand what he’s saying. That desire to know something more, to be something different. He’s saying everything I’ve been keeping bottled up for so long. I wonder, very briefly, if he’s simply waiting for the feeling to pass as well so he can finally be content in the role he’s been given.
“You’ll have your chance. Our fathers have both been all over —”
“As knights! As someone else’s pawns. They don’t do anything or go anywhere without orders, not even the great Patrick McThomas. I don’t want that! I want a chance to be my own man before I have to be someone else’s.”
I almost point out that he’s not really a man at all. He’s sixteen, still considered a boy, still a squire. But he’s glaring at me, and there’s some kind of newly kindled spark in him that keeps me quiet.
I can see myself in him, I think. It’s enough to make me cringe. I never thought I’d have anything in common with the likes of Erik Loleck.
“How much did you hear?” I demand flatly.
“Everything.”
I wish Torren would reappear and tell Erik off herself. Maybe she could even magic his memory away. Fae are supposed to be able to do that sort of thing. With no Torren to make Erik forget and what sounds like search parties starting to form behind us, I’m trapped. Still, I don’t want to say yes. Erik sees that I’m searching for another reason to turn him down and cuts me off before I can even begin to speak.
“Do you know what provisions to bring? How to build a fire or to hunt? How do you plan to defend yourself? Think about it. You wouldn’t last even half a day out on the road by yourself. Especially not if people are tracking you. You need me.”
As much as I hate to admit it, Erik is right.
“It’s not like I’ll be alone,” I say.
Torren still hasn’t shown herself again. I don’t know if it’s because she doesn’t trust Erik as she does me or if she has simply decided I’m too much trouble.
“And what do you think a critter like that will do if you come upon a wolf? Or if you’re starving and freezing out in the night? Do some wee magic tricks for you? That won’t fill your belly or keep you safe.”
There are calls from the field, telling the newly formed parties what section they’ll be searching. They’ll be coming upon us soon. I kick my foot into the ground and grit my teeth, scowling at Erik.
He sighs. “Would it help if I offered to teach you all those things? Hunting and the like?”
That makes me pause. “You’d do that?”
“Aye, it’ll be better off for both of us if you’re useful.”
No one has ever offered to teach me such things before. Father let me hold his sword a few times, even let me help him polish it once, but that was all. Drake and Joseph hadn’t even let me do that much. Father told them it was too dangerous without his supervision. I can’t hide the hungry, eager expression that stamps itself on my face.
“You promise?” I narrow my eyes in suspicion.
“I said I would, lass, as long as you don’t throw up a fuss about me going, too.”
A glance over my shoulder reveals that the men are starting towards the forest. They’ve split into groups and are fanning out to cover as much ground as possible, given their lessened numbers. We have no more time to stand around and talk.
I nod quickly and gesture for Erik to follow me. We take the long way around the field, staying well away from it and, hopefully, out of sight. I know that rumors can start quickly and I don’t want people to wonder what I was doing alone with Erik Loleck.
“When do we leave?” he asks. It’s obvious he’s keen to get a move on soon.
“Torren said we’d leave tonight. I don’t know where she’s got off to, though,” I reply.
Without the fae, I won’t even know where to begin. Her absence is making me more nervous the longer she stays away. I can only hope she won’t mind that I told Erik he can come with us.
We’re quiet as we finally get back to the path leading toward home. I’m too busy worrying over what I’ll need to bring. I feel less guilty focusing on that than I do thinking about how Mother will feel when she discovers I’m gone. It sits like an anchor tied to the bottom of my heart, threatening to drag it down. I don’t know what’s going through Erik’s head. His expression is bland and neutral.
I don’t know what I might come to regret more: blindly agreeing to follow a strange fae, or allowing him to come along.
&
nbsp; The road is quieter now. Most people have either stayed at the field or gathered in the village center. I’m glad for that much, at least. As we round the curve in the road, lost in our thoughts, Erik is suddenly bull rushed from the front. He cries out as he flies backwards and lands heavily on his backside.
Drake stands over him, jabbing a finger in his face. “What do you think you’re doing with my sister, lad?”
“He was just walking me home!” I try to interject, but Drake turns his anger toward me.
“And what were you doing out in the first place? Mother goes looking for you for the second time today and finds your room empty again! Is this where you’ve been sneaking off to? To spend time with Loleck?”
“What? No!” I can feel my face going red with embarrassment and my own anger. “You’re being daft!”
“We were just talking,” Erik attempts to explain.
Drake isn’t having it. “You have no place talking to her,” he growls. “Especially without anyone else around!”
“Get your head on straight, Drake!” I tug at his arm to pull him away from Erik, but he’s planted himself solidly over the boy.
“You get your head on straight, Mary.” He grabs me by my wrist and glowers down at me. “What’s the village going to think if they saw the two of you? First thing the high captain’s daughter does once her father is hurt is to run off with the Loleck lad, that’s what. If Mother hadn’t sent me to find you—”
“Nothing happened, you lumbering beast.” Erik pushes himself up. “Mary and I were just —”
Drake releases me and easily hauls Erik up the rest of the way by the front of his shirt. He gives him a threatening shake while Erik struggles to free himself from my brother’s vice like grip.
When Drake speaks next, his voice is low and dangerous. “Look here, lad. There isn’t a you and Mary. And if you keep it up, there won’t even be a you. You keep away from my sister.”
“Drake, stop!” I plead.
“Let go of me.” Erik swings a fist that connects with Drake’s chin.
Drake throws him on the ground again. He’s smiling slightly, his blood raised and ready for a fight.
“Oh, you’ve done it now, Loleck,” he says, stepping toward him.
I jump between them, my arms outstretched to hold each back, and I look desperately up at my brother.
“Please, you have to stop!”
“Out of my way, Mary.”
Drake pushes me aside, but I force my way in front of him again. He’s surprised when I put my hands against his chest and push back with all my might.
“Stop!” I scream.
“Give me one good reason,” he says through clenched teeth.
“Because he’s going to help me find a cure for Father!”
Drake hesitates, his fist lowering slightly, and his scowl turns into a frown.
“What did you say?”
I swallow hard, but don’t shy away.
“Just like I said,” I tell him. “There’s a cure for Father and we’re going to find it.”
Drake looks from me to Erik, who is trying to get to his feet again, and then back to me skeptically.
“Start talking, lass.”
Chapter Six
I explain everything as quickly as I can: about Torren, what she’d told me about a man called Meverick Conan, that Father’s wounds are worse than they seem. Drake listens without saying anything. He’s still tense and, every so often, glances at Erik, who has been careful to keep me between them.
“Poison?” Drake says when I’ve finally finished. “A fae? Some evil stranger with a grudge against Father who’s now after...you?” He pauses and I nod. “You honestly expect me to believe any of this?”
I had, I realize. As crazy as it all must sound, I really was hoping he’d believe me. That he’d be on my side, just this once. Frustrated tears sting my eyes.
“It’s true!” I almost shout into my brother’s face. “And we have to go tonight. Torren says —”
“Now’s not the time for stories, Mary,” Drake’s patience has worn thin again.
He takes me by the wrist, points his finger warningly at Erik one last time, and starts to pull me up the path. I stumble in my effort to keep up. He takes one large step for every two I take and I’m getting caught up in the hem of my dress. I look desperately back at Erik. He’s just standing where we left him, silently fuming at Drake’s back. The more I try to pull away, the tighter my brother’s grip becomes until it’s painful.
“You’re hurting me!” I cry.
For all of our squabbling, Drake has never raised a hand to me. Both Mother and Father have always been very strict about that. Family doesn’t strike family, no matter the reason. I see the momentary surprise and shame cross his face and he lets go of me entirely. I come to a standstill, rubbing my wrist. The red outline of his hand is clearly visible on my skin. When he sees, his gaze drops to the ground and he scratches the back of his neck.
“Sorry,” he says gruffly, unable to meet my eyes. “I didn’t mean to. It’s just...everything that’s happened, and now you and Loleck, your stories.”
“They’re not stories,” I insist. “There was a fae and she said she’s going to help us!”
“Mary, please. Stop.” Drake rests a hand on my shoulder, but his touch is gentler now.
The tears brimming in his eyes are more startling still. Drake doesn’t cry. Not when he’s been knocked off horseback or dealt a heavy blow, not even that time his hand slipped while cleaning Father’s sword and he cut himself. I feel that familiar, sharp lump growing in my throat again.
He clears his throat and blinks rapidly.
“Not today,” he says.
I throw myself at him and hug him tight around his waist. I want to tell him I’m sorry and he’s not wrong to blame me, but I can only weep. He puts an arm across my shoulders and lets me.
“Isn’t this the sweetest thing I ever did see!” a light, reedy voice says dryly from behind me.
“Torren! Where did you go? I was worried!”
“You have got to learn the meaning of urgency, lass. We can talk later; now, we need to be moving.”
The fae flutters behind me, her arms crossed over her chest. My sobs turn to a watery smile and I look up at Drake. He has to believe me now! His head has tilted slightly to one side and he’s gaping like a fish caught on land.
“Is that a…?” he asks, mystified.
“Aye, a fae,” I reply. “Her name’s Torren. She’s come to help.”
“But fae aren’t real?” It comes out as a confused question instead of a statement.
“Ach, not this again.” Torren sighs. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the two of you have one brain to share!”
“Mary,” Drake says slowly.
I bite my lip, unsure of what he’s about to say. “Yeah?”
“I think I’m starting to believe you now.”
It takes a few moments, but once Drake shakes off his shock, he has Torren repeat everything she’s told me. She tries to argue that there’s no time, but he won’t budge without hearing the story straight from her. He’s regained his composure and put his usual, guarded front up again. I wish I was better at reading him. It’s impossible to know what’s going on in his head while he listens.
Torren has only just started to tell him about Meverick Conan’s interest in me when he takes me by the arm again and starts walking off. This time, his pace isn’t angry, it’s hurried.
“Drake, just listen to her,” I look anxiously to Torren, flying along beside us.
But Drake won’t stop. He’s got a thin, tight lipped expression and his eyes are narrowed. He doesn’t react to anything Torren or I say, even when she starts telling him off and pulling at his hair. He waves a hand at her, but I notice he’s careful not to hit her.
He doesn’t speak again until the long fence marking our family land is in view, and the house beyond it.
“Not a word to Mother. And you, fae
, hide,” he says, still pulling me along. “Go straight to your room. Find clothes that will suit the road. Be as quiet as possible. Do you have any packs?”
Torren looks like she wants to retort with a snippy answer, but settles for sticking her tongue out at him. I blink, then she’s gone.
“Any what?”
He’s talking so quickly that I hardly have time to make sense of it. “Packs, to put your things in. Keep up, Mary!”
He pushes open the gate and ushers me through.
“We’ll need supplies: food, bed rolls.” He ticks things off on his fingers while he lists them.
“We?” A warm rush of unexpected relief spreads in my chest. I hadn’t been letting myself feel how afraid I was. It would have stopped me before I’d even left. Now Drake is coming with me, though, that fear ebbs slightly.
It’s impossible to be as frightened when I know my brother will be with me.
“Of course we, you daft lamb,” Drake scoffs. He pushes past me and strides up the walkway towards the front door. “You think I’d let you go on your own?”
“Well, Erik was going to be with me.”
He barks out a short, humorless laugh. “You think I’d let you go with him? Quiet now. Straight to your room.”
The common room is empty. A fire crackles in the hearth and a pot of stew hangs above it. It’s bubbling and obviously in need of a stir. Drake makes shooing motions at me, but I hold up a finger, telling him I need a moment, and go to the kitchen to grab the large wooden spoon hanging over the chopping block. My brother rolls his eyes and disappears down the hall to his shared room with Joseph.
I dip the spoon into the stew and give it a few gentle stirs. It smells of onion and carrots and mutton. My mouth waters and I can’t resist taking a spoonful. I blow on it and sip slowly, savoring the rich, warm flavor. It’s a regular dish in my house, usually accompanied by a large hunk of brown bread baked fresh that morning and a thick slab of butter. It’s the taste of home.
I hold it on my tongue for as long as possible. I don’t know when I’ll get to taste it again.
