by Jane Shoup
~~~
The group got an early start and it didn’t take long before they encountered the remnants of the campfire they’d seen the night before. A woman was still sleeping next to it. Her long, golden curls cascaded on her sleeping rug. During the night, fallen leaves had landed on her rug and hair. One of her feet was free of the cover and they all saw her badly injured ankle, but the fact that she was even alive, given where she lay, was astonishing. One by one, the men glanced up at the enormous cereno tree, covered in vicious namesake orangutans, and shook their heads. “How’d she survive that, you think?” Lott mused quietly.
“Clean living, perhaps,” Peter John suggested, equally quietly. “Any of us would have been dead, for sure.”
“Miss?” Garid called to her.
Ammey jerked awake and found herself staring at several pairs of boots. She looked up and saw the faces that belonged to them. “Oh,” was all she managed to utter. She sat and reached for her walking stick and got up awkwardly, unaware of the leaves that clung to her hair and clothes.
“That ankle looks bad,” a red-headed man stated sympathetically.
She didn’t need to see her ankle to know it was swollen to twice its normal size. “I twisted it,” she said in a raspy voice. The men looked concerned and friendly, and she felt elated to encounter people after thirteen days of seeing no one.
“Miss, do you know what that is?” one of the men asked, pointing at the tree.
Ammey glanced at the tree then looked back at him. “A large tree?”
“A large cereno tree,” he corrected. “Have you heard of those?”
It sounded familiar.
“Home to the meat-eating, even-thin-women-will-do-nicely, cereno monkeys?” a fair-haired man spoke up for the first time.
He was exceptionally handsome with hair he’d pulled back into a tail. All the men wore their hair in that style. “I don’t see any monkeys,” she said weakly, picking a leaf off her tangled hair.
“They blend,” he said. “Watch.”
She looked back at the large tree. Not one single monkey hung from its limbs. Fin clapped and yelled and some of the other men joined in, and it was as if the tree itself had sprung to life. Now she saw the creatures that clung to its limbs and branches, concealed perfectly by their coats of brown, gray and deep green. Diamond-shaped white eyes blinked menacingly, startling Ammey. She took a step backwards onto her bad ankle, which gave out. If not for the quick reflex of a large, redheaded man, she would have fallen directly onto her backside. Fortunately, he caught her with a gentle, “Got ‘cha.”
The men backed away from the tree and she was moved with them.
“I don’t know why they didn’t attack,” one of them remarked. “They generally attack any lone creature that strays too close and you were close.”
She felt foolish and deeply shaken.
“Why are you out here all alone?” the redheaded man asked.
“It’s a long explanation,” she hedged.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“South,” she hedged.
“So are we,” he replied with a cheerful smile. “Isn’t that lucky?”
Ammey noticed that one of the men seemed highly displeased. The others were noticing her lack of provisions.
“Why don’t we break for some food,” Garid suggested.
“We never break this early,” the displeased one said.
“We do today,” the red-head said cheerfully. He removed his pack and squatted to rummage through it.
Some of the others sat, seemingly glad for the break, and so Ammey did the same. She was embarrassed by her appearance. She knew the men were silently observing her worn and stained clothing.
“You said you’re headed south,” one of the dark-haired men said as he squatted to face her. He had deeply set eyes and a calm, intelligent look about him. She guessed he was the leader of the small band. “Where, exactly, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“Stonewater Forge.”
His expression changed to one of grave concern. “Why?”
“Why?” she repeated, confused by the question. “I live there,” she said haltingly.
“We heard no women were allowed in camp,” the fair-haired man spoke up. He had a suspicious look on his face.
She shook her head, not understanding. “What camp? It’s a home. And a forge.”
The first man spoke again. “I’m Garid Lourd of Keved. This is Fin Lourd, my cousin. And this is Jansen, my brother.”
“Here you go, Miss,” the redheaded man interrupted, offering her a hunk of smoked meat.
She accepted it gratefully. She was humiliatingly aware of her hands shaking from a lack of food and strength. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I’m Peter John Graves.”
“And that’s Darius, Lott and Samuel,” Garid added, pointing at each as he named them. They each bobbed their heads and smiled shyly at her.
“Miss,” Darius nodded. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“And yours,” she returned, covering her mouth since she had food in it.
“Where are you coming from?” Garid asked.
She looked down at the food. “North.”
Jansen, the unhappy member of the group, snorted. “That’s general. Where?”
His question was pointed enough that the others scowled at him.
“I can see where this is going,” he complained.
“Shut up, Jansen,” Samuel muttered.
“We didn’t get your name,” Peter John said as he offered her his canteen.
“Ammey.”
The men looked alarmed, which caused a strange feeling in her stomach.
“May I ask your surname?” Garid asked reluctantly.
She hesitated only a moment. “McKeaf.”
The expressions on the men’s faces closed and Ammey felt stung by the negative reaction. People’s reactions were usually so opposite.
“I was afraid of that when you said Ammey,” Garid admitted. “I’ve never heard the name except for her.”
Except for her? Ammey opened her mouth to ask how he could have possibly heard of her, but Jansen spoke first saying, “Yet another,” in a droll voice.
Ammey shook her head. “Wha— what do you mean? I don’t understand.”
Garid looked contrite. “If you’re Ammey McKeaf, what are you doing out here?”
Why were they challenging who she was? It made her frustrated, but also oddly panicked. She was too weary and too close to tears for a confrontation. “Trying to make my way home,” she exclaimed in a shaky voice.
“Let her eat,” Peter John urged. “She needs to eat.”
“Miss,” Samuel spoke up. “You cannot claim to be Ammey McKeaf,” he said tenderly, as if he was breaking bad news to her. “See, there’s a penalty.” He looked at the others. “Someone has to explain the consequences to her before she trudges all the way there.”
“Will you please just let her eat?” Peter John insisted. “We can explain later.”
“I don’t understand,” Ammey said, directing it to Garid.
“There have been a number of false claims,” he explained.
“False claims?”
Garid nodded. “Young women claiming to be her in order to be transported to the Forge. The fact is, if you claim to be Ammey McKeaf and you’re not, they’ll whip you.”
She was not able to comprehend what they were talking about. Who would claim to be her? Obviously no one could pass for her. It made no sense. Tears sprang to her eyes.
“The best thing is to turn around and go back to where you came from,” Garid said gently.
“I am,” she cried. “That’s what I’m trying to do!”
“For the love of Zeus, will you let her eat,” Peter John roared.
Garid held up his hands in concession and Ammey wiped at her eyes angrily and then bit into the meat again. Unfortunately, the cursed tears would not stop.
“I’m sorry we upset you,” Garid
said.
She shook her head, unable to speak.
“We should find the next village and get a mule for her to ride,” Peter John suggested. He looked at her with a sheepish expression. “You shouldn’t be on that ankle.”
“That’s out of our way,” Jansen rejoined.
“It’s not so out of our way,” Garid said, glaring at his brother.
“And who’s going to pay for it?” Jansen challenged.
“I will,” Peter John replied hotly. “So try not to be such a horse’s arse.”
“Thank you,” Ammey said to Peter John. “My family will pay you back.” She saw the doubtful looks exchanged between men and had to fight back fresh tears.
Peter John shook his head. “Eh, one traveler helping out another. I don’t need to be paid back. One day I’ll need help.” He paused. “Fact is, you could take the mule wherever you wanted. Wherever your home is.”
“My home is Stonewater Forge,” she said as calmly as he could.
“Alright, then,” Peter John said cheerfully. “For now, I’ll carry you on my back.”
“Oh, no. I can walk. You’re very kind, but, I can.”
When they started out again, she kept up. Of course, they probably slowed their pace to accommodate her. “If I fall behind, I’ll catch up when you stop,” she panted, already wearing from the pace. “Don’t go slowly for my sake.”
Peter John looked at Garid. “I’ll go into Rossborough and meet back up with you.”
“I’ll go with him,” Samuel offered.
Garid nodded. The two men went one direction, while Ammey excused herself and went the other, toward the cover of trees.
“Watch for cereno trees,” Fin called.
“Shut up, Fin,” Darius said.
“You think it could be true?” Lott whispered.
“That’s she’s Ammey McKeaf?” Garid asked quietly. “And in all of Azulland, we just happened to stumble upon her?” His wry expression left no doubt as to his opinion.
“We’ve got to talk her out of making the claim,” Darius stated.
Garid nodded. “Things were probably difficult at home. They’d have to be to strike out on your own as she has.”
Fin shook his head. “How does anyone think they can get away with such a lie?”
“I think they just want to be someplace where there’s safety and protection,” Garid replied.
“But—” Lott murmured.
“What?” Garid asked.
“I’ll tell you what,” Jansen interrupted, “If we take her to the Forge, we’re going to look like fools. I say we get her a mule to ride and then leave her. She can go to the Forge on her own and not humiliate us for having transported her there.”
Lott huffed. “That’s not what I was going to say. I was going to say, what if it is her? I mean, I don’t know where Ammey McKeaf went or why, but she obviously went somewhere, right?”
Garid nodded.
“Word got out about her being gone and about her family wanting her back, so women started making the claim.”
“Is there a point to this?” Jansen asked.
“The point is, perhaps it is her. What if it is?”
“She’s coming,” Fin warned.
“We can’t leave her,” Garid said under his breath. “That’s all I know.”
By the mid-day break, Garid could not help but notice how exhausted their new companion was. She looked ashen. “We’ll wait here for Peter John and Samuel,” he announced. Jansen opened his mouth to complain and Garid turned a full-fledge glower on him. “Go hunt us up some dinner.”
“I’ll go,” Fin said.
“So will I,” Lott seconded.
“I’ll get a fire going,” Darius said. He walked off to collect wood.
Ammey sat on her rug and tugged up her skirt to see her ankle. It was even more grossly swollen then before. It was also red and hot to the touch. “Keved,” she mused, trying to mentally place it on a map. “Is that north of N’awllah?”
“Northeast,” Garid replied.
“How do you know about Stonewater Forge?” she asked.
“There’s a military camp there. After the attack on Bellux—”
She gasped in shock. “Wha—what attack?”
He frowned. “Do you know Bellux-Abry?”
“It’s where I started this leg of my journey from,” she replied carefully.
He considered her for a few moments. “You’re from the south, but you started your journey from Bellux-Abry?”
“Yes. What happened?”
“The attack, we understand, was a diversionary tactic.”
“What do you mean?”
“After Corin’s army marched on Rhuga—”
She felt tingly and strange.
“You didn’t know that either,” he surmised.
She shook her head.
“Please tell me your name,” he said beseechingly.
She was too exhausted to do this anymore. She just wanted to lie down and sleep. Waking didn’t matter. She just wanted to sleep. “I did. I can see you don’t believe it, but it’s true.” She looked away. Obviously, everything had changed since she’d left Bellux-Abry. Either Marko had changed or he’d been tricked again. Either he was in control of something terrible or he wasn’t in control at all. All that was certain was that fighting had occurred. Death and injuries had resulted. While she’d been fighting to survive, Corin’s army had marched on its neighbor, and Bellux-Abry had been attacked by her father’s army. It was mind-boggling.
“You should rest,” Garid said.
She didn’t argue. She settled back onto the rug, rolled herself inside it and slept. It was dark when she woke. A campfire burned near her and a second fire was crackling nearby. All the men were sitting around it. Their conversation was a soft, soothing drone which reminded her of home.
“Ammey?” Peter John called. “Are you awake?”
Her name had never sounded sweeter. She was grateful to Peter John for having used it. She sat. “Yes.”
“You should eat,” he said.
“Do you ever say anything else?” Fin grumbled. He got to his feet, prepared her a bowl of food and brought it over. “Here,” he said, handing it to her. “Unless you feel up to being sociable,” he said lightly. “It’s fine if you’re not.”
She accepted the bowl of stewed venison. “Thank you.”
“I’ll get you something to drink.”
As he walked back to the fire, she noticed the smirks on more than a few faces. They were directed at Fin.
“What?” he snapped.
“Nothing,” Samuel replied quickly and with an irritating grin on his face. “Nothing at all.”
“You’re just so attentive,” Lott teased. “I’m trying to think if I’ve ever seen you so attentive.”
“I haven’t,” Darius joined in the fun.
Fin grabbed his canteen and shook a fist at all of them. “Perhaps I’ll attend your heads after this.”
There was amused laughter all around. Even Ammey smiled.
~~~
Ammey was the first to wake the next morning. She found a creek to drink from and wash in. The men were just stirring to life when she got back.
“You look better,” Peter John observed.
“I feel better.”
Peter John handed her a bundle of gray wool. “We, uh, got you this to wear. And a coat.”
She unrolled the bundle to reveal a shapeless surcoat. “Thank you, Peter John,” she said sincerely. “I’m very grateful.”
“Well, you need the coat, for certain,” he said, waving off her thanks.
“Let’s eat and get going,” Garid said.
~~~
With Ammey able to ride, they made good progress the next few days until an afternoon when the wind picked up and a purplish-gray sky grew increasingly threatening.
“It’s going to pour any minute,” Jansen yelled in order to be heard.
“Keep your eyes open for a cave,” Garid
yelled back. He’d already sent Samuel and Fin out in search of one, but they hadn’t been seen since. The group topped a ridge, everyone bent against the wind, and Ammey saw the finger lakes ahead. Her heart hammered with excitement.
“Here,” a distant male voice yelled. “Over here!”
Ammey turned and saw Samuel waving from a short distance away. “Peter John,” she called. He was leading the mule directly in front of her, but the wind was so noisy she had to call again before he turned. She pointed to Samuel. Peter John looked and saw him, handed her the reins, and broke into a clumsy jog to alert Garid.
The cave they found was barely big enough to hold them all. The quiet inside was pronounced with the wind finally out of their ears. They made it inside shortly ahead of a torrential downpour. They set out bedrolls and built a fire near the cave opening.
“Cozy,” Peter John remarked when it began snapping and crackling.
“The storm may last awhile,” Garid said.
“It’ll last as long as it lasts,” Samuel replied.
“That’s Samuel’s idea of waxing poetic,” Fin remarked to Ammey sitting next to him.
“Oh, now,” Samuel objected. “If you want poetry, I can deliver poetry.”
Lott moaned.
“There once was a woman from Draven,” he began.
He was drowned out by a chorus of protests and gave up, laughing.
Ammey realized she was laughing, too. It had been a long time since she’d been relaxed enough to laugh.
“The good news is,” Fin said to Ammey, “we have time to hear your story.”
She made a face. She wasn’t sure he had the reserve of strength and patience it would take to explain the last months of her life.
“Let’s have something to drink first,” Darius suggested.
“Yes,” Peter John seconded enthusiastically. “Let’s.”
Several flasks were produced and offered to Ammey. She laughingly took one and sipped. It burned as it went down. “What is it?” she rasped.
“We call it the drink,” Peter John replied.
“Ah,” she replied, handing the flask back.
“Have all you want,” Lott said.
She nodded. “I have.”
There was more laughter before Peter John said, “This is actually my favorite way to spend an afternoon.”
“Mine, too,” Lot agreed, holding up his flask in salute.
