Reaching the tree line, Fiera checked both directions for anyone approaching. The dry, flat road was empty. The fat man was, indeed, gone. She propped her hands on her hips and viewed the other two with a critical eye. “Well, that was close. How about we change our colors again?”
She placed her hand on Captain’s brown coat and concentrated. White hairs appeared in an all over irregular pattern. His mane and tail turned salt and pepper and black appeared on his legs, just above his hooves. Stepping back, she viewed her handiwork. What had once been a proud, albeit boring, brown war horse was now a flea-bitten draft.
Captain shook his head and his voice rumbled in her mind. This isn’t my normal color and it isn’t an improvement over the last.
It’s only temporary. I promise.
You promised to change me back.
I will, but we’re still not safe yet. Turning to Marie, she asked, “Do you think you could pretend to be a boy for a little while?”
Eyes wide, the girl slowly nodded.
Fiera brushed her hand across Marie’s soft curls, turning them blond in the wake. She gripped the child’s dress, as well as her own, and turned them to boy’s clothing. Marie’s facial features were a bit soft for a boy, but there was nothing to be done about that. She pointed at the girl’s feet. “No shoes. Rub a little dirt across your face, like you were wiping sweat. And tie your cloak around your waist so it’s not so noticeable what it is.”
Fiera transformed the shoes to two worn flop caps such as she’d seen boys wear. She changed her own hair color to match Marie’s, shortening it to just above her shoulders. She also rubbed dirt on her cheeks. For the first time, her emaciated body worked for her. They would look like two farm kids visiting the city on the family draft horse. No one would give them another thought.
The smoke from the buried fire had finally died away and she was loath to make another, so they ate a quick breakfast of cold Oxblood soup and bread.
Marie watched Fiera out of the corner of her eye until they finished eating and were packing up. Then she placed her hand on Captain’s side, much the way Fiera had, and, with her other hand, she made like she was tossing something straight up in the air.
Fiera frowned. “Are you asking about my magic?”
The girl gave a huge nod.
“Well, I have two gifts. I can speak with animals in my mind and I can change the form of things, but not the basic composition.” She picked up the lard-thickened blanket Marie had slept on and laid it against the horse’s jaw. Pushing her magic into it, the cloth became a rope bridle. There would be no saddle this time. Real farm kids didn’t usually have one for their draft animals. Then she took a handful of dust from the road, packing it in her hand, and changing it into a flat silver coin.
“My creations are only as solid as what I start with. That bridle holds because it was a strong blanket. But this coin,” Fiera tapped the silver disc and it crumbled, “is still just dust.”
She shrugged and wiped the silver dirt from her fingers. “What is your magic?”
Marie sadly shook her head. Her arms hung lifeless at her sides, as if she were embarrassed at the inability to produce something.
“But, you do have magic! I can feel it. You put energy in the soup. You saved my life!”
For answer, Marie lifted a flap on a hidden pouch tied around her waistline. Inside were more than a dozen tiny packets of powders, grains, and dried leaves.
“Potions? Who taught you?”
Again, the girl shook her head. She shrugged.
“Don’t you think that’s magic, knowing those things without being taught?” Fiera clambered aboard Captain and reached down for Marie, pulling her up behind. “I’ve heard of witches studying all their lives and they still weren’t able to produce anything near the power in that soup.”
Another thought hit her. “There’s only one way you could teach yourself that quickly. I’ll bet you can pick up a strange plant and you know its properties. That’s magic. And I think it’s amazing.” She glanced behind her and was rewarded with Marie’s pleased grin.
Captain turned them toward the crossroads. He said, You could make her a new tongue from her own flesh.
I wish I could, but I can’t manipulate living things. That’s why hair comes back in as the original color: it’s living at the root, but not the shaft.
Pity. Wings would have been nice.
They traveled in silence until they came to the crossroads. The trip went a lot quicker than Fiera remembered from the night before. Startled, she turned and stared down the road in the direction they’d come. From her vantage point on Captain’s back, she could make out the beginning of the wayside where they’d spent the night. It wasn’t as far away as she’d thought. Any traveler could have seen them. No wonder the fat man had found them so easily. It was just as well they’d gotten an early start and changed their colors.
Turning to the crossroads again, she frowned, facing the dilemma of which direction to go. There were no signs, nor markers of any kind. She didn’t see a soul to ask. “What do you think, Marie? Which way to a city big enough that we can buy water for Captain?”
Captain answered, You know what I think.
I didn’t ask you. Be quiet.
The girl peered around from behind. After a moment of twisting, turning, and bumping Fiera, she pointed to the road directly across from them. She then held her small hands together as if praying, but pulled them open.
Fiera took her turn twisting and staring at all three choices. Then she nodded. “You’re right. That road is wider. It’s got to lead to a city.”
She spoke to the horse. Captain, hollow your back and hang your head more. Drag your feet. You’re supposed to be a tired, lumbering draft horse.
I hate this. But, he did as she asked.
A niggling worry built with her. That fat man on the black had definitely been looking for them. And now, he was probably headed towards the city, as well, on the very same road!
* * * *
Efar sat on a flat slab of rock behind a cluster of dried up pine scrub. Every time he moved, brown needles scattered to the ground. From his vantage point, he watched the children make up their minds which direction to go. He’d decided not to interfere unless they went the wrong way. They sat bareback on their giant horse, bare feet swinging free, caps pulled low on their heads, every bit the picture of farm boys. The rope bridle was worn and scuffed, the children’s clothes equally so.
Minds made up, they started down the northern road, the one leading to the city and the highwaymen. He stood and stepped through the empty branches into view. As one, both children and the horse jerked their heads toward him, their eyes wide with alarm. He held up his hands to show that he meant no harm. “That’s a dangerous road.”
As he approached, the horse jigged sideways away from him. Stopping ten feet away, Efar waited while the oldest boy pulled the creature back under control.
The child faced him, piercing him with eyes the color of green olives. “What kind of danger?” His voice was low and still like a deep pool. He turned and searched down their intended road as if he could spot the evil lurking there.
The boy’s voice surprised Efar and he took a closer look at the child’s features. Though thin and angular, the lips were full, the brow high and the eyelashes were long and sweeping. Women were one thing he knew well above all others. She’d tried to camouflage it, but she was no boy. He glanced at the child sitting behind, but because of the smaller boy’s youth, it was hard to tell if he was really a boy or another girl in hiding. Some boys just plain had effeminate faces, especially when younger.
Efar returned his attention to the masquerading girl at the front of the horse and tried to imagine her as a full-grown woman. Yes, he was sure. All the angles and features fit that of a woman. One with a voice like that could go a long way in soothing a man’s troubles. He’d imagine she’d be well sought after when she’d grown. But she was
too young for him now. “Highwaymen. You’d be better off taking the eastern road.”
She again appraised him with her cool green eyes. Then she shook her head, shifting her thick blond hair and jutting her chin in the direction she was traveling. “We’re going to the city. We need water for our horse.” She patted her mount’s neck and it bobbed its head as if in response.
It struck Efar that the girl looked familiar to him. He thought a moment, but was unable to place her. “You have a strong, healthy horse. He’s bound to catch someone’s attention. As if that isn’t enough, you two…boys…are both the right age to be sold into slavery. Go a different direction. Surely there’s water to the east.”
She narrowed her eyes and pointed to the baked earth below her horse’s hooves. “This road guarantees water, the other doesn’t. Thank you for your concern, but we’re headed to the city.” She nudged the draft horse and it stepped off without a fuss.
Efar muttered under his breath, “If you even get there.” She was a stubborn one.
He watched the children rock back and forth with their mount’s giant strides. If he figured out they were girls, someone else could, too. Cursing himself again, he jogged to catch up. “I propose we travel together. This road isn’t even safe for a single traveler like me. We can protect each other.”
The girl shrugged and lifted her head in defiance, her message clear: he could do as he liked, but they didn’t need him to protect them. Admirable, but foolish.
At that moment, Efar realized she was the girl from the inn. As they walked, he studied her profile and, in his mind, compared it with what he’d seen of her in that dim room. Same forehead, same desperate eyes. She was definitely the same person he had helped escape. Though he thought her remembered her hair as darker.
That explained the fat informant’s interest. She must own or have taken something of value, but he’d no idea what a simple country girl could have. Efar let his gaze rove over the draft horse. It was a nice horse, something to be had, but he found it hard to believe a paid informant would be interested in a girl’s mount. He turned his gaze to the boy behind her only to find the child staring boldly back at him. Boy or girl?
Efar turned his attention back to the road. He tried to remember the conversation he’d overheard through the door at the inn, but so much had been said in hushed voices.
With a sigh, he looked up at the girl, putting on his most winning smile. “I suppose, if we’re traveling together, it’ll be easier if we know each other’s names.” He placed his hand on his chest. “I’m Efar.”
She glanced at him, but didn’t say anything for quite a few strides. Then, almost begrudgingly, she said in a tight voice, “My name is William. That’s Henry behind me. This,” she nodded toward the horse, “is Captain.”
He nodded, encouraging her, but, after waiting a few moments, it became apparent nothing more would be forthcoming. He tried again. “I traveled from my home southeast of here, a tiny village in the mountains above Hertford. I decided to see what lay in this direction. And you? Where are you from?”
Again, she gave that bitter twist to her mouth as if swallowing a bad medicine, but her gaze suddenly hollowed, speaking a different story. “South.” Then she fell silent.
Efar also lapsed into quiet. Trying to get two answers from her had nearly worn out his social skills. He’d never had to work so hard to get someone to speak to him. Obviously, she didn’t want him to know anything about them.
It was going to be a long journey.
* * * *
Through the day, Fiera kept Captain at a steady walk. They skipped the noon meal in order to get to the city quicker, the horse insisting he was fine. The silence their group maintained allowed Fiera time to think. She worried about catching up to the grizzled black and his rider, who could be ahead of her. They also needed to get water soon. Midden, the day before, had been the last place Captain had been able to drink. Fiera wanted to push him to a gallop, but that would be more detrimental than helpful. He would sweat, making him even more dehydrated.
The stranger beside her, Efar, worried her, as well. She had no doubt he was the farmer who had enabled her escape from the inn in Midden; he must have crept ahead of them on the road as they slept. Though he preached against highwaymen, he could be a robber, himself. Or a rapist. Or any number of things. He could be in league with the fat man. Very glad she’d chosen to hide them as boys, she still itched to race away from him. Circumstances, however, conspired to keep them together.
She glanced over at his long, wavy, light brown hair and strong masculine face. He didn’t look evil. Nor was he bad to look at. His smile came easy, and when he looked at her, his clear blue eyes seemed to dance in merriment over some secret joke. He walked assuredly, as if he knew he could handle anything that came his way. Could she trust him? If he was what he purported to be, a traveler who, by circumstance, was at the inn at the same time, then he would be an excellent guard.
When she’d changed herself and Marie to boys, she’d been thinking of becoming exactly what most people wouldn’t notice. She hadn’t been thinking of thieves. Though she’d made it clear to Efar they didn’t need his protection, they just might.
Captain broke into her thoughts, as he had been all day, his voice strident in her mind. I’m telling you, he doesn’t smell right! He shook his head in emphasis.
Stop telling me that and give me some details. Fiera repressed the desire to sputter her lips in frustration. He’d been going on about the smell ever since Efar had joined them. She would have thought the horse would be used to the smell by now. But then, it might not be just the stranger unsettling him. She’d noticed that as Captain grew thirstier, he became more jittery.
He doesn’t smell human.
What then? An animal?
None I know. I think my nose is ruined. Between him and that stinky black horse, I many never be able to smell correctly again. He jigged sideways, as Efar stretched out his hand to stroke his neck.
“Please don’t,” Fiera snapped at the man. “Can’t you see you make him nervous?”
Efar frowned a moment, but widened the gap between them. He bowed slightly. “A thousand apologies. He’s a magnificent animal.” He looked up at her with crystal blue eyes. He smiled.
She felt her peevishness at him begin to melt. A warm glow sputtered to life deep inside her. She slapped the horse’s shoulder. “Yes, he is. My father could always pick out the best.”
He seems like a nice fellow. Maybe I could get used to his smell. Captain arched his neck and lifted his legs higher with each stride.
I’m sure you could.
Efar asked, “What did your father farm?”
What to tell him? That she didn’t know? She’d never been allowed outside the house for fear someone would take issue with her red hair and green eyes. What did her mother serve on the table the most? “Cabbage and parsnips. We had a herd of goats, too.”
Marie/Henry tapped her arm from behind and pointed up into the sky.
Fiera shifted her gaze to the horizon. A dark shape flew toward them against the graying light. “A bird!”
Efar’s voice was dry. “It’s a wren. We must be getting near the edge of this cursed dry land.”
A wren! Excitement infused her, flushing her skin. Her breathing came rapidly. It had been so long since she’d seen a bird of any kind. In her mind, she called out to it. Hello, Wren! I’m happy to see you. Would you tell me what’s to the north of us?
The brown avian circled in the sky above them. In typical bird form, it skipped the greeting. Green. Water.
How far is the water?
A merchant sells it from his cart. A half day’s ride for you.
Many thanks. Turn around and go back. You’re the only bird we’ve seen for many months. There’s nothing this way but desolation and dirt.
My thanks to you, also. The bird wheeled in the sky and flapped back the way he had come. Fiera watched him disa
ppear.
She turned to find Efar gazing at her with an amused smile and twinkling eyes. He nodded toward the bird. “You followed every move that bird made. You love animals, don’t you?”
She colored. If he only knew the truth! “I do. Any kind. But, it’s been so long since we’ve had songbirds.” She lapsed into uncomfortable silence and stared at the packed dirt road directly in front of them, unsure of where to turn the conversation.
“The wren means we’re close to water, too.” He reached to pat Captain, and for the first time, the horse didn’t step out of range. He did turn his head away and blow great gusts of warm air through his nose, though.
Fiera ignored the horse’s antics. “I’ve heard there’s a merchant who sells water from his cart somewhere on this road. Perhaps we’ll run into him early tomorrow.”
“Did you hear that in Midden?”
She snapped her gaze to him. Behind her, Marie/Henry stiffened. The girl’s arms tightened around Fiera’s waist.
He laughed. “Yes, I recognize you. And I’m glad I helped you get away. That bunch didn’t seem very nice. Was it your horse they were after?” He nodded at Captain.
“Yes,” she answered dully. She gave him something close to the truth. “They thought I would be easy to steal from because I’m small.”
He nodded and frowned, his eyes narrowing with the seriousness of his words. He spoke softly. “You’re small and a girl. You’ll discover that not all thieves hide in the woods. What’s your real name?”
Before she could stop herself, Fiera blurted, “Are you a thief as well?”
His eyes flew open wide, but instead of angry words rebuking the accusation, he chuckled again. “No. I’m no robber.” He smiled up at her and Marie/Henry, blue eyes dancing with mischief.
It was an infectious smile and Fiera found herself wanting to respond in kind, but she held her emotions at bay. No doubt there was more behind his simple statement, judging by his eyes, but she now felt safe with him. She felt she could trust him. At least in this. Still, she’d keep an eye on him and keep Marie’s real identity hidden as long as she could. “My real name is Fiera. Is my disguise so easy to see through?”
Birthright Page 4
