by Candy Rae
“Breeding stock?”
“That’s how van Buren sees women,” replied Michael. “If you hadn’t managed to keep back the twenty-five captured from the north, we would be in dire straights indeed.”
“Still not enough to build up a population.”
“More will come,” Michael prophesised, “as soon as word gets out of how your rule is different.”
“Let’s get the cabins up,” suggested Pierre, “then those who wish to move out and set up their own farms can do so. Did you manage to get the boundaries mapped out?”
“I have that and I’ve planned it fair and square as you said. Quite a few have already asked about some of them and I’ve pencilled their names in. The list awaits your approval. About a dozen are planning some sort of forestry business, the hardwoods here are of good quality, better than around Fort, so they think they’ll have a ready market if they can work out how to get it there.”
“You are organised. I’ll have to go back down to Fort more often,” smiled Pierre, “unfortunately, I have to return soon so you will be in charge again, Sam Baker’s demanded a meeting and I have to be there.”
“You be careful,” cautioned Michael.
“We live in interesting times don’t you think? Thanks for your concern though. Has anyone seen any sign of the Larg?”
“Dangerous times more like,” Michael exploded, “and praise be to whoever is looking over us, no Larg so far.”
“Keep your eyes open. I don’t think these creatures have quite finished with us yet.”
* * * * *
Gerry Russell, once animal handler aboard the WCPS Electra and self-appointed agent for the north, was a worried man. It had been weeks since the convict army had returned from their unsuccessful invasion and he had spent the time accruing intelligence, but could find no way to send his information north. Much he learned from Anne Howard, or Murdoch as she was now known. Domiciled in Fort itself, she was in a perfect position to overhear unguarded snatches of conversation and she passed these on when she could, but Anne was guarded zealously by the Lords of Murdoch, pregnant as she was with the Kingdom’s heir.
It was perilous for him to be seen in the company of Anne.
He had managed to hold on to his job with the livestock. The overseer was in no mind to let him go, it was a hard and dirty job with long hours and not many of the returning soldiers were queuing up to replace him. If he suspected Gerry of not being who he said he was, he kept his suspicions to himself.
When not working, Gerry hid in the small cellar-like room he could call his. It was dank and dark, situated close to the riverbank; one of the original rude cabins now sub-divided into small windowless rooms and rented out as living accommodation for those who could not afford anything better. He paid for it with cuts of meat, culled from the daily rations sent up to the kitchens at Fort. The head cook knew very well that Gerry and the others were keeping some back for their own use. He shrugged and amended his daily order accordingly. He would not report them, as long as the pilferage did not get out of hand.
* * * * *
Anne Murdoch, previously Anne Howard, sighed as Sam Baker left. Lately, he was becoming quite impossible, arriving unannounced at her quarters each day to enquire as to her health. Anne had come to realise, in the weeks since the army had returned, that he and the lecherous Lord Brentwood constituted her greatest danger. Their hints about her future once the child was born did not bode well.
She would have to arrange a meeting with Gerry soon. It was becoming more and more urgent that he should try and get her remaining children away. Sam Baker was planning the dispersal of all children who had reached eight years, wanting to separate them from their mothers so that they could be indoctrinated more easily into his ‘new society’.
Perhaps she herself would be able to keep her two with her until the baby was born but she knew that would only be a temporary concession. Brentwood and Baker both wanted her. She had observed that Lord Smith was backing away from the power-play in Conclave. Anne had heard that he’d married one of the female crewmembers from the Electra and that the woman had borne him a daughter. Perhaps he would be content with what he had. Sam Baker had gone as far as to propose marriage, not from any desire on his part Anne was sure, but in an effort to take control of the baby king. At the moment Brentwood was contenting himself with brooding looks. Anne knew that she would not be able to hold them off forever. Eventually one of them would gain ascendancy with her as the prize.
Anne was reconciled to this with one proviso, she promised both herself and her husband Peter’s memory that she would save Cherry and Joseph. Their eldest daughter Jessica was safe in the north, now the two youngest must follow.
She decided to ask permission for a walk outside the walls. Gerry would see her and know that she needed to speak to him. Anne was under no illusions about the danger in what she was about to ask of Gerry. If he accepted her request, and Anne was sure he would, he would be risking his life to take her friend Lysbet Quirke and three young children on a dangerous journey through Larg and convict-infested territory. Pursuit would be certain and the penalty for failure death for him and perhaps Lysbet as well.
So be it.
Having come to this decision, it was time to tell Lysbet her plans.
Rising to her feet, she felt the baby kick, faint, but a definite kick for all that. Anne’s loyalties were divided, she desperately wanted to keep Cherry and Joseph with her as long as she could but the longer she waited the harder it would become to get them out. The haphazard governance of Murdoch of the early days was passing away and the government was intruding more and more into the everyday lives of the inhabitants.
Entering the inner room of her apartments she spied Lysbet sitting reading a well-loved book of old American Tales to the three children. Gavin and Joseph were listening and were enjoying the treat. Cherry on the other hand, sat somewhat apart, she seemed to be away in a world of her own and Anne noticed the worry lines etched on her young brow. Cherry was ten now and very aware of Anne’s precarious position and of the tension this generated. Anne knew her middle child was neither eating nor sleeping well.
“Cherry can finish the story Lysbet,” Anne announced, “we need to talk.”
Cherry reached out for the precious book, her father’s as a child and his father’s before him, a question on her face, although she did what she was told obediently enough.
Anne mouthed ‘later’ as the little girl took Lysbet’s vacated position between the two boys.
“Let us know if you hear anything,” continued her mother as she led Lysbet to the window.
Cherry nodded; she understood. Her young ears were being put on guard in case anyone decided that a bit of spying was in order. They had learned to be careful.
“There is danger,” Anne whispered to Lysbet. “I believe that, before many weeks pass, Baker, Cocteau and Smith will engineer the separation of the older children from their mothers.”
Lysbet gasped and her eyes swivelled towards her six year old son Gavin, cuddling into Cherry as the ‘big girl’ read the story of Davy Crocket in a clear, piping voice, designed to cover any of her mother’s or brevet aunt’s words.
“But it was promised that they would stay with us.”
“Murdoch promised. I am under no illusions that those presently in charge feel bound to any of his. They want control of the children, to educate them their way. Privileged I may be, but I don’t think Cherry and Joseph will escape the round-up though they may allow them to stay until the baby is born.”
“What can we do?” asked Lysbet desperately. “Don’t tell me I am to lose Gavin as well as their father and Jenny? I think I would rather die.”
“No,” Anne replied in a low murmuring voice. She bent close to Lysbet’s ear. “I have a plan. There is someone here at Fort, a friend and I am going to ask him to take you and the three children out of here, if successful, he will take you to the north and ultimately I hope, to Jessica and Jenny.
If anyone can do it, he can. It will be dangerous and what the chances of success are I don’t know, but we have to try. Cherry especially is approaching that dangerous age.”
Lysbet nodded, already some of the younger teenage girls had been taken away from their mothers, no one knew exactly where and Joseph would soon be old enough to be enrolled in one of the boys’ battalions Cocteau was talking about. After a few months with them he would hate his mother and all she stood for.
“I can’t go,” worried Lysbet, “it would be far too dangerous and I couldn’t possibly leave you here to face the music on your own.”
“Do you want to keep Gavin?” demanded Anne.
Lysbet nodded.
“There is no way I can go with you,” continued Anne. “I will slow you down for one thing and they would hunt for me even more than you. The convicts and everybody else’s survival might well depend on the successful delivery of this child. I can perhaps delay them a bit too.”
“But I can’t leave you here alone,” protested Lysbet.
“I won’t be alone. I’ll have the baby when it is born and peace of mind knowing that Peter’s children are safe and far away from this hateful place. Who knows, perhaps I will manage to get away later. You will mother Cherry and Joseph for me.”
“Of course I will,” answered Lysbet. “I promise you Anne, that I will give them all the love that you cannot. They will never forget you either, or their father.”
Meanwhile in the livestock corrals Gerry was thinking of Anne and worrying about what was happening up in Fort proper. He had not managed a trip up the hill for days. News had come that morning that Lord Baker was calling in all the other Lords for a meeting and he and the other herdsmen had received orders to cull two of the older cattle for the feast that would follow. He would have to try to engineer a visit to the kitchens with the meat delivery.
Anne however did manage to get permission from the Captain of the Guard for a walk along the river at the foot of the cliffs. Some of the heifers had dropped their calves over the last few days and she persuaded the elderly guard commander that the little ones would like to see them. Lord Cocteau had also been amenable to the suggestion. His wife Carla was expecting his first child and for the first time in his life, Cocteau was becoming sensitive to the needs of others. He had struck up quite a friendship with young Joseph and would take him on excursions round the encampment when his duties allowed. Joseph called him Uncle Henri and was beginning to be influenced by the new ideals.
This worried Anne, seeing in it a demonstration of how easily young boys could be moulded with their fathers dead and their mothers not around. Joseph was already talking excitedly about the time when he would be old enough to join the boys’ battalion. He no longer mentioned his father. His memories of his old life were fading with each passing day.
Cherry remembered. Cherry hated the Lords, Brentwood in particular, with an intensity beyond belief for a ten-year-old. She had cried herself to sleep many nights after she found out about the murder of her father. She knew of Lord Brentwood’s complicity in the deed and looked at him through narrowed eyes every time she saw him. It was a hatred that would continue for as long as Brentwood had life in his body.
Cherry Howard had vowed her own revenge, although what she thought a ten-year-old girl-child could do was anybody’s guess.
Neither Anne nor Gerry had any way of knowing that a rescue was being planned.
* * * * *
CHAPTER 7 - VADATH
Deep within the new-named land of Vadath and sublimely ignorant of what she was about to be told, Aglaya made her way in a leisurely manner towards the daga of her sire Fernei, Elda and Susa of the Avuzdel.
The Avuzdel was a small, elite and predominantly secret force domiciled in a small wooded area a day’s run to the north of the main rtathlians. Many Lind, especially those living in the far west, did not even know of its existence and Fernei and his Avuzdel were quite content that it remain so. The fewer that knew about their frequent incursions south the better it was for the safety of all concerned.
Recruitment to the Avuzdel was covert. Fernei selected only the best. Spying in the south was a dangerous, brutal and often fatal occupation. If the spy was good, he (the force consisted mainly of males because female Larg always remained in their pack-ranges) survived. The Larg did not treat gently any of those captured and a long and torturous death was certain. To prepare his agents, Fernei put them through a long and vigorous training. Fighting prowess and bravery were perquisites, but he also looked for a certain type of mind. Sneakiness, intelligence and an ability to work on your own could not always be taught and many who volunteered did not make the grade.
Aglaya was already a veteran not of two but three missions. She had made the grade, a true daughter of her father. Privately, he was extremely proud of her, publicly he treated her the same as the others under his command.
He himself had, that morning, returned from a visit to the Gtrathlin. He had also spent some time further west undertaking a more covert mission, one of sacred trust, the full details of which even Aglaya would never learn about. Aglaya was not a member of the most secret cadre within the Avuzdel itself.
Fernei awaited her arrival with impatience. The mission now being proposed by Afanasei was far more difficult than any asked of the Avuzdel before. With the advent of humans it was far more dangerous than ever for any Lind venturing into the southern continent. After much soul-searching and analysis of where in the continent the mission was to take place, he had selected his only daughter as leader.
He sensed rather than heard the steady pad of her paws on the dry leaves in front of the daga and raised his head as she ducked under the overhanging branches that made up the entranceway. She entered in her usual composed fashion, her face one of gentle enquiry at the unexpected summons.
: You wish to speak to me? :
Her telepathic skills were second to none, better than his own, but telepathy was normally used for sending images and emotions. Word sending, especially over long distances, took a lot of energy and effort and normally was used only when the need was great, such as in battle or with an urgent intelligence report.
“We have a rescue mission in the south.”
Aglaya cocked her right ear in inquiry, whiskers quivering in anticipation. A handsome female in Lind terms, she nevertheless showed signs of her Larg ancestry. Her father Fernei was the son of a male Larg refugee from one of the internecine pack wars of the southern continent and a pack Ranetei female. The pink stripes of his mother were almost submerged in the tawny pelt that was the legacy of Aglaya’s grandfather. It had enabled Fernei to blend in with the Larg packs and kohorts and had been a great aid to him becoming, perhaps, the most effective spy the Avuzdel had ever known. Now almost white, the pink stripes were more evident. He would not blend in now.
His daughter Aglaya was in the prime of life. The pink inherited from her grandmother was barely noticeable because Fernei had mated with a female from a far westerly pack with a dull sandy stripe coloured pelt. At a cursory glance, all Fernei’s children were therefore very similar to the Larg in appearance. Due to their sandy colour pattern, adventurous members of pack Lvei were in high demand by the Avuzdel.
“To the Larg rtathas?”
“Not this time. This time we go into the bad humans’ lands.”
An incredulous expression on her face, Aglaya stared at him, “you are joking!” she exploded with a growl of disbelief, “how can we go there? The latest reports say that there are no Larg there. We will stand out like a lone kura!”
“You will not be alone,” replied Fernei. “Four Avuzdel go with you, also two vadeln-pair. As well as this, the humans have liquid they call dye; this means colour stripes will not show.”
“They are warriors, these vadeln-pair?”
“No. They are vadeln-pair who are good in subterfuge. Afanasei found them for us. The human youngling is young but fought well in battle. You know hidden doms where you can h
ide. The two vadeln-pair must reach the domta. It is called Fort.”
Aglaya looked worried, as well she might. It was dangerous enough for one member of the Avuzdel to traverse the southern continent, with six Lind and two humans she felt it would be an almost impossible task.
“Remember,” said Fernei at this point, “you will be passing through lian and nadlian where there are no Larg. Not many humans either.”
“Reports are incomplete,” she reminded him, “just because no Larg are supposed be there does not mean that they are not.”
“That is true daughter,” he said. “Afanasei is aware of this but go we must. Susyc Jim says we must do this. We need to find out what bad men and Larg are doing so we can make plans for future. There is a man who is our friend hiding at this Fort and contact must be made before winter comes and makes travel even harder than now. You will not go over the island bridge. It is watched.”
Aglaya was surprised.
“How then? There no other way to Larg lands.”
“You go on something called boat.”
“Boat? What is that?”
“I do not know,” he admitted, “but Afanasei tells me it is possible. Is a human thing that can travel on water.”
Aglaya snorted in disbelief, “this I must see,” she said, interested despite her misgivings.
“You accept this mission?”
“I have choice?” was the rhetorical question.
“No. Susyc Jim and Larya will arrive here soon then we go to domta Afanasei. There we meet the vadeln-pairs that go with you. From the Avuzdel, you take Vsei, Baltvei and Alesei. Baltvei is young but he shows much promise. He did well in training.”
Aglaya signalled compliance with his orders with a submissive bow of her head.
Fernei limped over to her and gave her a quick lick of affection. Aglaya leant towards him.
