by Jane Shoup
Ulima smiled tenderly. “If you can believe an older woman’s intuition, I believe you’ll see Vincent again. All of them, in fact.”
Ammey’s face heated at the mention of Vincent. Had she been that obvious?
“It’s alright,” Ulima assured her as if reading her thoughts. “No one else knows. It’s just that a woman knows.”
“I have a favor to ask,” Ammey said.
“Anything in my power,” Ulima pledged.
“My family needs to know I’m safe.”
Ulima pointed at a folded letter on the table. “Forzenay left instructions to have letters taken to the Forge. His explains all that’s happened. It’s not yet sealed. He thought you would want to read it.”
Ammey smiled weakly. She nodded. “That was considerate.”
“He tries to think of everything,” Ulima said. “His band and their mission is his entire life. He allows nothing else in. Which is a shame.” She paused before adding, “I’m sure you’ll want to write your family, as well.”
“Yes.”
Ulima rose. “I’ll get some parchment and a pen. And I have more clothing for you, too.” She started from the room. “I used to be your size.”
Chapter Eleven
Two days later, Ulima stood near the street in front of the inn and watched Ammey drive the wagon transporting Graybil away. She felt heartsick for Ammey who had fallen desperately in love with Vincent. He was in love with her, too, but men controlled their feelings better.
“Aunt Ulima? You sent for me?”
She turned upon hearing the voice of her sixteen-year old nephew, Marcus. “I did,” she replied. “I have an important task that needs doing. I need letters delivered to Stonewater Forge.”
“Stonewater Forge?” he repeated, deeply surprised. “Really?”
“Really and truly. To the McKeaf himself, in fact,” she said, knowing he would be impressed. As expected, his eyes glistened with excitement. “It’s a long way. It will be a fortnight of hard riding.”
“I can do it,” he pledged.
“I know you can, but—”
“But what?”
“There are dangerous men about. Trained killers.” Marcus’s curly, fair hair always made him seem younger than he was. Even now, as she charged him with an important duty, she had to restrain herself from running a hand over his curls. “I want you to find a few others to ride with.”
“Agreed,” he said at once.
“Good riders. And you will take your uncle’s spyglass and keep a sharp eye out.”
He nodded. “Of course. I will.”
She patted his cheek. “You’re such a fine young man. I want you to live to be a fine old man.”
“You worry too much since my mother died.”
She shrugged, knowing it was true.
“Are the Five gone?”
She gave him a look. “How do you know they were here?”
“The fight at the Alehouse? A lot of people know. Or guess.” He grinned. “I guessed a long time ago, but I’ve never said a word. I can be trusted with secrets.”
“I know you can.”
“Where are the letters?”
She tugged them from her belt and handed them over. “Come and have something to eat,” she said taking hold of his arm. As they started in, she said, “The young lady that was here was the daughter of the McKeaf.”
He looked at her with surprise. “Why was she with the Five?”
They stepped into the tavern and she closed the door behind them. “She was sent someplace for protection, but things went awry. Two men were escorting her, two of the McKeaf’s best men,” she added for emphasis, “and these trained killers I mentioned cut them down without warning.” She paused, making sure he was taking her meaning. “Forzenay and the others took her into their care, but her family does not know.”
“They must be beside themselves with worry.”
“I’m certain of it.”
Marcus held the letters close. “They’ll be glad to get these.”
“Yes. But you must be so very careful. Vigilant. It’s more important that you arrive, than when you arrive. What I need you to do is to survey each stretch of land with the spyglass before you ride. Cover that distance and then stop and survey again. I know the journey will be slower that way but, as I said, it’s only important that you arrive safely. Not how quickly you do it.”
“I understand.”
“Promise me.”
“I promise! Oh, Aunt Ulima. Stonewater Forge,” he said, awed by the prospect. “I have always wanted to see it and to meet the McKeaf.”
She rolled her shoulders slightly. Tension had made them stiff. “I know. But I will not have a good night’s sleep again until you’re back home again. Now, go and get your uncle’s spyglass while I fix you something to eat.”
He was practically dancing as he did as bade.
Chapter Twelve
Ammey held the reins with one hand and shook out her other. She rotated her wrist, glanced down at her sore palm and then glanced behind her to where Graybil slept. Ulima had sent along a tonic that helped him sleep despite the jostling of the wagon and it worked well. She would have preferred to nip at it and sleep the whole way, too.
It was near the end of day three of a journey she didn’t want to be making in the first place. With Graybil sleeping, and with nothing to distract her, she had far too much to time to remember and grieve. The only positive aspect of being alone was there was no one to hide her tears from. At least, her family would soon know of her whereabouts.
Graybil groaned. “Are we there yet?” he asked groggily.
“Not yet.”
The wagon suddenly rocked and Ammey looked back and saw Graybil had gotten off and was walking. “You’re supposed to be riding.”
“I’ve been on my back for days,” he complained. “Do you want to hear me howl at the moon?”
“I’ve done it a few times while you were sleeping.”
“I’m sorry I missed that. You see the hill ahead?”
“Yes.”
“When we top that, you’ll see the finger lakes. We’ll stop there for the night.”
“At least ride up the hill.”
“Fine. To appease you.”
“Or perhaps so that I won’t report back to Ulima that you were a difficult charge?”
“That’s it exactly. Ulima can be so frightening.”
Ammey grinned for the first time in days. When they reached the peak of the hill, she drew in a sharp breath at the sight before her.
Graybil grinned proudly at the landmark this region was known for. “As if the mother of creation imprinted her hand in the earth.”
Ammey was awed by the colossal handprint before her. There was a shallow, almost square lakebed, which diverged in five different directions, four to the east and one, the thumb, to the northeast. The tips of each finger lake seemed the deepest, the color darker. “They’re supposed to be cursed, aren’t they? Or is it sacred?” she asked, trying to remember what she’d heard of them. “Not to be touched or drank from.”
“You can drink or fish from any part of it. There’s enormous fish in there, in fact. Sturgeon. And you can swim in the palm. What you’re not supposed to do, in theory, is to get into the deep ends.”
“The fingertips?”
He nodded. “Of course, that’s just an old wives’ tale. I have seen boys jump in and come back out just fine. Dares. Tests of courage. I have no idea how the theory got started, but many still believe it.”
“Have you tested your courage there?”
“Me? Oh, no. I avoid danger whenever possible.”
She laughed and started the horse moving again. She had to apply the handbreak to control the speed as they went down the hill. “What’s supposed to happen if you jump in the tip of a finger?”
“You’re considered an offering and pulled into the underworld to serve whatever god or goddess discovered the transgression or … offering, whatever it’s
considered to be.”
“Interesting.”
“We’ll arrive at my village tomorrow,” he said as the ground leveled out.
She was thrilled to hear it. She was tired of traveling. “Have you family there still?”
“Oh, yes. I have a wife—”
She jerked her head to him so suddenly, a muscle burned in the back of her neck. “You do?”
“I do. And a daughter.”
She exhaled in surprise.
“I must say, you will require a bit of explanation,” he said, making a face that suggested worry.
“Are…any of the others married?”
“Any in particular you’re curious about?” he teased.
She felt herself blush.
“No,” he assured her quickly. “None of the others are married.”
They left it there, although a certain tension still hung in the air. She stopped the cart and climbed down. “I never want to drive a wagon again.”
He climbed out carefully, mindful of his stitches. “I’ll catch something good and we’ll feast on fish tonight.”
She unhitched the horse and led him forward to drink, peering curiously into the black water of the nearest fingertip.
“They say it’s bottomless,” Graybil said. “But it would be, wouldn’t it?”
~~~
At the same time, the men of the twenty-first wolf pack were stopping to make camp. Kasper Fhecvoe, still on his horse, caught a glimpse of something in the distance. Putting a spyglass to his eye, he saw riders. “Look there,” he called to his brother.
L’neal Fhecvoe turned his horse around and looked. He spotted two young men riding. A corner of his mouth quirked. “Shall we tell the others?”
“And listen to boys scream all night? Hardly. I need sleep.”
“I’ll wager I can hit one from here,” L’neal said, reaching for his bow.
“Which one?”
“On the right. The one with the dark hair.”
Kasper reached for his own bow and an arrow. “I’ll hit mine dead on,” he challenged. “You’ll mayhaps scratch the horse.”
“You, mayhaps, can scratch my hairy arse,” L’neal snarled. He took aim and let an arrow fly.
Kasper had gotten his off faster. He reached for his spyglass to see the result and then laughed victoriously. His mark was down, of course. “You got an arm. Barely!” Not only that, but the boy had panicked and taken off in the other direction, back toward the woods. Kasper grabbed another arrow, took aim again and hit the retreating boy squarely in the center of his back. “Two hits,” Kasper said. “Mine!”
Moments later, in a deep orange glow of a sunset, Joshua Ashlon rode out of the woods, frustrated with his friends for taking such a long lead. It wasn’t his fault his nag was slower. It had nothing to do with riding skill. Marcus and Liam merely wanted to be first to the Forge.
He saw their bodies lying in the field before he comprehended what it meant. Pulling back on the reins and turning his horse around was more reaction than thought, although the shock and horror he felt was very real. His muscles were tense, his movements awkward as he dismounted in the shelter of the woods and crept back to the clearing to make certain of what he’d seen.
Liam was closer, lying on his front. Two arrows had pierced his body, one in his arm, and one in the center of his back. He must have been headed back to the woods. Marcus was further out, lying on his back, an arrow sticking out from a blood-soaked circle on his chest. They were dead. How could they be dead? They’d only been a short distance in front of him and he hadn’t heard a thing. Not a sound, not a cry. Nothing!
The letters were still tucked in Marcus’s belt. Joshua could see them flapping in the breeze. He could retrieve them and continue on to the Forge, but that would mean risking the same fate as Marcus and Liam. A buzzard landed atop Marcus, and it startled Joshua back a step. He turned away, unable to bear the sight. He went to his horse and threw his arms around the nag’s neck weeping grievously for his friends. When he was able to, he mounted his horse and headed back the way he had come. He would not go on to Stonewater Forge, nor would he sleep this close to the bodies of his friends. He wanted to live.
~~~
“What’s your wife’s name?” Ammey asked. They were stretched out on their bedrolls staring at the stars.
“Ianthe.”
“And your daughter?”
“Liani.” He smiled wistfully. “She’s eight and the spitting image of her mother. Same spirit, too.”
Ammey turned toward Graybil. “Why are you with Forzenay and the others?”
It took a moment for him to begin. “Several years ago, we learned that a man in the next village had been tortured and left barely alive. For no reason. He didn’t know his attackers and they had given no reason for their action. It seemed incomprehensible. Then we discovered there had been several of these attacks. They’d begun in Qaddys and were trekking southeastward. We couldn’t ignore it, so we began tracking them.”
“Who is we?”
“Myself and some of the men from my village. Including my younger brother.”
She nodded.
“It didn’t go well. There were more of them than we thought. My friends were killed. My brother was killed.”
“I’m sorry.”
“That’s when I met Forzenay, Stripe and a few others you don’t know about. Fortunately, or I too would be dead.” He paused. “The Five had a mission and I felt I should be a part of it. Felt it,” he repeated, tapping his stomach. “Here. So, I pledged a year of my life to them.”
“How long ago was that?”
“Seven years ago. And, yes, I will be having this conversation with my wife. But it’s about something more now. This isn’t the time to leave.”
“Are you able to get home very often?”
“Several times a year.”
Ammey pondered whether that would be enough for her. Or any woman. But perhaps it depended on the woman. And the man.
“When did Kidder and Vincent join the Five?”
“Shortly after I did. A matter of months.”
She grew silent again. She knew what she wanted to ask and so did he, but it wasn’t his place to tell her. That’s what he would say. “I wonder what they’re doing now,” she murmured.
“Drifting toward sleep, I imagine. Wondering the same of us.” He closed his eyes. “They call me Flynn, by the way.”
“Flynn?”
“It’s my name. Flynn Graybil. My friends used to call me Gray. I never cared for Flynn.”
“I understand disliking the name you were given,” she said sleepily. “Goodnight, Flynn,” she added teasingly.
“Goodnight, Amaris.”
She cringed, realizing the Seidh had apparently shared this information. Using his given name was not something she would do again.
~~~
Graybil’s homecoming was lively enough that they had to work at keeping the throng at arm’s length given his injury. Ianthe Graybil was an attractive woman with auburn hair who greeted Ammey in a reserved manner, pointedly asking how she came to be with the Five.
“She was in the right place at the wrong time,” Graybil spoke up. “And she got swept up with us.”
“I’m sure it’s quite a story,” Ianthe commented coolly.
Ammey felt a pang of unease.
“Papa!” shrieked a freckle-faced girl with long, auburn hair.
Ianthe barely stopped the child from leaping into her father’s arms. “Ho there! Your papa’s belly is hurt.”
“There’s my girl,” Graybil said, kneeling to embrace her. “Look at you. You’re taller. You are growing like a weed.”
“I am not growing like a weed!”
“Exactly like a weed. I’m going to start calling you my weed-girl.”
Someone patted Ammey’s shoulder and welcomed her.
“Yes, welcome,” an older man greeted with a fervent nod.
Graybil stood back up, still holding onto his d
aughter. “Allow me to present my friend Ammey McKeaf,” Graybil said, to the gathering crowd.
“McKeaf,” someone exclaimed.
“Not of the McKeafs?”
“Yes,” Graybil confirmed.
“You’re the daughter of the McKeaf?” Ianthe asked. She looked from Ammey to her husband and then back at Ammey.
Ammey smiled. “I am.”
“Who’s the McKeaf?” Liani asked.
“He’s a great general,” her father said. “And his daughter is our friend.”
Another little girl finagled her way through the legs of the crowd, this one a dark-haired beauty, perhaps a year or two older than Liani, but more willowy.
“Hello, Catherin,” Graybil greeted. “Ammey, this is my daughter, Liani, and this is Catherin.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” Ammey said to the girls.
“We’ll prepare a feast to welcome you home,” a man called.
“Indeed, we shall,” a woman agreed.
“It’s good to see you, Gray,” a man said, patting his back.
“You must have so much to tell,” another spoke up.
“In time,” Ianthe replied firmly. “Liani, you and Catherin show Mistress McKeaf to the guest lodge and to the gorge.”
The girls jumped to take hold of Ammey’s hands, all smiles.
Ammey caught Ianthe’s eye. “It’s Ammey,” she said, hoping to lesson the woman’s reserve.
Ianthe gave a noncommittal tip of her head.
~~~
“This is the gorge,” Liani announced later as they approached a passageway through a massive rock formation with walls that rose hundreds of feet high. “You can hear the falls.”
Indeed she could. It was a muted roar. Ammey looked to the top and the sight was dizzying. The path turned sharply before opening to a small lake fully enclosed by rock walls. A waterfall gushed from above causing a constant spray where faint, colorful rays of a rainbow shimmered. “It’s beautiful,” Ammey exclaimed loudly enough to be heard over the noise.
“Will you live here now?” Catherin asked.
Ammey looked down at Catherin’s hopeful expression. “No. My home is to the south.”
