Dark Oak

by Sannox, Jacob

  A door opened at the far end of the hall, and Aldwyn hurried back to the centre of the room. Lachlan and Cathryn, hand in hand, walked towards him.

  ‘So, the time has come, my friend,’ said Lachlan. The words were meant kindly enough and sounded so, but as Aldwyn drew near, he perceived dislike in the lord’s eyes. He suspected the Lord of the Isles knew more of his relationship with Cathryn than had ever been acknowledged, but to give the man credit, Lachlan had always remembered his duty and kept his composure. Besides, they were brothers-in-arms and, Aldwyn hoped, Lachlan knew him as a man of honour.

  ‘It has indeed, Lord Lachlan.’ Aldwyn forced a smile and bowed his head. He turned to the queen.

  ‘I must ask your permission to depart for the Hinterland, Your Majesty,’ he said and felt his insides tremble as her blue eyes locked with his. The rest of the room seemed to fall away until the Lord of the Isles clearing his throat broke the reverie.

  Cathryn smiled.

  ‘We ask much of you, Lord Aldwyn. Defend our interests in the Hinterland and protect the forest. Clear Culrain and rule our lands as you see fit. You will always find friendship in Tayne and, I know I speak for both of us when I say, you will always find friendship in this room.’

  ‘I am honoured, Your Majesty.’

  He bowed to Lachlan.

  ‘I will send word both when I reach Oystercatcher Bay and when we take the Hinterland. I have word of Devised forces in the area, but anticipate little resistance. I will push on into the Wastes and Culrain when appropriate.’

  Lachlan offered his hand and Aldwyn accepted it, each man grasping the other’s tight.

  Aldwyn gently kissed Cathryn’s and she allowed herself a small smile.

  ‘I hope to see you both again,’ said Aldwyn. ‘By your leave, I will depart.’

  That evening a host of men hauled Aldwyn’s ship, the Nightingale, along the sea canal, and it sailed out onto the open ocean.

  Word was given for the Sea-Gate to be secured and, for the first time since the defeat of Awgren, the queen gave orders to bar the Maw Gate from the inside.

  The Folly stood secure against outsiders - assuming of course, that all outsiders had truly departed.

  Chapter Eight

  In her dream the white mane thrashed, disappearing amidst the flying flecks of foam from the river that ran so high only the horse’s head and neck were visible.

  Rowan lay flat on the bank, her fingers grasping the overhang and watching as the waters steadily rose towards her. She felt calm as the waters seemed to pour up out of the river as though some deeper chasm beneath its bed had given passage to a deeper source. The snow-covered plains disappeared and the waters continued to rise.

  The horse’s head thrashed, dipped under the surface and came up once more. Rowan cried out as the horse began to scream in a voice that seemed more than animal, more than human. It was every voice, and she heard it within and without.

  Rowan covered her ears with her hands and scrunched her eyes closed as the Whiteflow washed over the lip of the bank and pooled around her. The water rushed into her mouth. Now her throat was the river. She opened her eyes but the pressure of the river against them was too much and she closed them once again. She could not even cough and with her limbs splayed, her body careered downstream. Rowan gave up hope, but her heart beat ever faster.

  Her fingers brushed against something and stuck fast, followed by her palms. Her arm wrenched as she was dragged forward, and she reached forward with her other hand, but she was moving too quickly. The oncoming water forced the arm down to her side and her chin towards her chest. Then her head was above the water and she was coughing up fluid. Her hand was stuck to the white horse’s flank, her arm arching over its back as it galloped upstream, high in the water – so impossibly high that she knew there was no way its hooves could be reaching the riverbed. She hauled herself onto its back as they drew near to where the Whiteflow disappeared into the forest and as the darkness under the trees swallowed them, Rowan awoke.

  Declan and Bramble, who was cradling the baby, were sitting at the main table eating a breakfast of trout, dark bread and ale.

  Rowan sat up and wrapped her blanket around her shoulders. The fire was going, but still she shivered.

  ‘Good morning,’ she said, yawning. ‘Where’s Callum?’

  ‘Look who finally joins us.’ Bramble smiled. She laid the sleeping baby in the cradle and set about fetching Rowan some food before answering.

  ‘Callum went out early this morning. He told Declan he was going to gather acorns from the Forest to feed the pigs.’

  Rowan shot to her feet.

  ‘Alone? Mother!’

  Bramble held up her hand, shaking her head.

  ‘Captain Lynch went with him.’

  Rowan relaxed a little immediately, but this frightened her in another way. She slipped on her boots.

  ‘I’m going to wash, if you are all right with these two for a little longer?’

  Her mother nodded, not looking away from cutting a hunk of cheese. She handed it to Rowan silently then returned to Declan’s side. She tousled the boy’s long hair.

  The light snows of the last few days had melted away and the ground lay bare and brown on the path to the river side. She looked about for Lynch’s men as she left the ranch, but they all appeared to be sleeping in the barn, out of sight in the daytime as had been agreed – except for those on watch of course, but those too were not visible. She was about to turn her attention to reaching the river when a movement caught her eye, and she turned to look back towards the town. Two people were coming up the path – women, judging from what she thought was a swish of skirt around the height of their ankles. Momentarily torn between curiosity and the need to relieve her bladder, she elected to return to the farm to use the privy instead of the river. She ran to the barn and called through the door that someone was coming and returned to the path to greet her visitors. By the time she had reached the gate, she could recognise Lara helping Acorna, one of the elders, along the path from the village.

  Seeing her friend renewed her sense of guilt about the previous night, but she was also relieved to see her. When her face became visible as she moved towards them, Lara instantly recognised the smile on her lips as genuine and her own hard feelings ebbed somewhat. They met a hundred yards from the gate and Rowan curtsied slightly to Acorna, though she kept her arms folded against the cold. She smiled at Lara, perhaps a little nervously, but Lara smiled back, and the two women embraced.

  ‘What brings the two of you out to see us this morning? Are you looking for my mother, Acorna?’ Rowan asked, knowing full well the two elder women had been friends for many long years.

  Acorna shook her head.

  ‘I’ve come to see her more than my fair share this last month. Time she dragged her woe-begotten carcass down to see me. Her turn.’ She gave a wicked smile and Rowan laughed.

  ‘We’ve come to talk about what happened with the overseer. How to proceed,’ said Lara, softly.

  She felt a strong urge to look back over her shoulder to see if Lynch was returning, but she resisted, unwilling to show that anything was amiss as of yet. But what was the alternative?

  ‘I was about to bathe. Mother let me sleep late. Walk with me?’

  The Whiteflow was running high, renewed by the melted snows, but not as high as her dream suggested. The white horse was nowhere to be seen. She laid a fur over the pebbles and knelt down to splash water into her face. Lara took up Rowan’s jug and helped her rinse her hair while Acorna sat patiently on a nearby rock.

  ‘It’s not a new quandary, Rowan - nothing that countless men and women before you haven’t considered. My sons are in the war. Lara’s brother and husband too. Many, many people have searched for an answer to the Hinterland’s predicament, and do you know what the answer has always been?’ asked Acorna.

  Rowan closed her eyes, bracing against the cold of the Whiteflow as Lara poured it over the back of her head. She gasped when
it was over.

  ‘To do nothing. To collaborate.’

  ‘Collaborating is not doing nothing. It’s a course of action we have chosen generation after generation to fend off certain reprisal. It is bile in my mouth as much as it is yours, but it has been necessary.’

  Rowan sat back on her haunches as Lara began drying her hair.

  ‘You all believe that if we make a stand here, our men will die,’ she said, looking down at the pebbles.

  ‘Yes, we do,’ said Lara, lifting away the towel and crouching to look her friend in the eye.

  ‘Well answer me this, Acorna,’ said Rowan, ‘why did we not stand and fight when Awgren’s army came and took our men away? Why did the old thegns not resist when Crinan, Tayne and Culrain fought until they had no other choice but retreat?’

  For a while both Rowan and Lara looked up at Acorna as though they were small children at their mother’s knee.

  ‘Because the thegns knew we could not withstand Awgren and that Crinan would not send aid. They had to look to themselves and, since that first betrayal, the Hinterland has always chosen survival over honour,’ said Acorna.

  Lara nodded to herself, but Rowan shook her head.

  ‘You think anything but a victory is futile then?’

  Nobody said anything, but all heard an answer in the silence.

  Rowan gathered her things, her temper once again flaring, and Lara sighed in exasperation before blurting.

  ‘The overseer is considering taking measures to stop your talk.’

  Rowan set down the basket, withdrawing her brush and setting to work on her hair.

  ‘I see.’ Nothing for a while then, ‘At least someone in the Hinterland is prepared to get his hands dirty in the name of a cause, but then, that victory is assured. We like those kind of odds in these parts.’

  She continued to brush while Acorna explained the conversation that had taken place after Rowan had burst into the main lodge.

  ‘You felt strongly enough to betray the Council’s confidence in order to warn me,’ Rowan remarked.

  ‘I have no desire to see your family harmed, Rowan. The overseer is largely powerless, but he does have the ear of the Devised commander. His position is only as secure as the stability and the productivity. Your talk is making him worry. He’s asked us all to try to dissuade you from rash action. I’m not going to do that, but I wish to make it very clear what will happen.’

  ‘Tell her,’ said Lara.

  ‘You may well be able to raise rebellion. We might kill the Devised, but even if we are successful, Awgren will send a force to find out why he has had no messengers after a while. We may not be able to defeat all of them and if not, word of the rebellion will reach Awgren. The men will be executed. Even if we utterly defeat them, Awgren will send a larger force and all will die.’

  ‘Perhaps that is what should happen. Perhaps we should do our part and die as the Crinish died; as they died in Culrain. Perhaps the scattered remains of our people should flee in boats to the Drift and to the Isles, warmed by the knowledge that our sacrifices have bought back our souls!’ said Rowan, her voice rising.

  ‘Wise up, girl. Touch the nettle. Feel the sting. Nobody here will make that choice. So can you ignore your conscience or are we going to make a bloody mess of one kind or another?’ snapped Acorna.

  Rowan was on her feet and striding towards the old woman before she had even thought about it.

  ‘What if things are about to change? What if I told you that Awgren is about to fall? How would that affect your reckonings? What if before the year is out, Lord Lachlan and Queen Cathryn march into the Hinterland and hang the overseer from the willow yonder so that the maggots from his rotting body fall to feed the fish?’ She spat the words, rather than roaring them and Acorna glared at her as she wiped spittle from her cheek.

  ‘Is this how you give thanks for a warning, girl? What would your mother say to see her friend thus defiled?’ Acorna shook her head in disgust.

  ‘Lay off her, Rowan. Are you planning on tearing the head off everyone who hears you out and doesn’t merely echo back your opinion?’

  Rowan turned away, breathing hard and staring off towards the forest, from where the Whiteflow churned out of the darkness to split the bare earth.

  ‘I apologise. To both of you.’ She turned and settled on the pebbles, ignoring the discomfort. ‘But I am not talking idly now or just in anger. I need to know this conversation will go no further. Can I have your assurance?’ She looked to Acorna and Lara in turn, but even their nods did not immediately set her mind at ease.

  They waited for her to speak but it was not until a change came over her face, a brightening, that she spoke again. When she did, she sounded almost excited at her realisation.

  ‘When did we last receive an envoy from the Wastes?’ she asked. ‘When were the Devised last reinforced?’

  Now it was Acorna’s turn to sound interested.

  ‘It has been some time. Months. Another reason why the overseer is nervous. I think he is worrying what will come when something eventually does.’

  Rowan leant forward on her knees, grinning. She was certain now that she would be able to make her point.

  ‘What if I told you I had word from the Folly? Word that Awgren’s attention is very likely elsewhere?’

  ‘By the shade of the Forest, Rowan!’ Lara screeched, almost playfully. ‘What do you know? Stop batting us from paw to paw. Make the kill!’

  Rowan broke. Acorna and Lara gobbled up her words, unblinking and often covering mouths with hands. She told them of Lynch and his crew. She told them of the fleet and the invasion. She told them that if Awgren’s defeat was not imminent then she believed that at the very least this was to be the largest invasion the Combined People had ever attempted, a thousand years in the making.

  When she was done, the reactions varied as quickly as the seconds passed. Jubilation gave way to despair which gave way to hope before it was dashed by worries.

  ‘I don’t know what to think,’ said Acorna. ‘If they defeat Awgren? Our people stand in his army!’

  ‘Do we want them to win or lose?’ laughed Lara, raking her hair back with her fingers in exasperation.

  ‘I should be getting back to the farm. Mother will be worrying,’ said Rowan. ‘And Captain Lynch may have returned with Callum by now.’

  Lara shot her a curious look at that, but Rowan merely frowned and ignored her, setting off back towards her home. Lara helped Acorna up, and they hurried after her.

  ‘What does the Captain want to do?’ called Acorna.

  Rowan said nothing, but upped her pace.

  ‘Rowan?’ called Lara.

  Once more she ignored the question.

  The three of them arrived back at the gate, all looking around eagerly, but nothing was out of place. Declan was seeing to the horses whilst Callum threw acorns to the pigs.

  ‘Are we coming in to talk further?’ asked Lara, clearly anxious.

  Rowan slipped through and closed the gate behind her.

  ‘I think it best we speak to the Council. All of us. And Captain Lynch. Can you gather the Council without the overseer knowing and come back after dark?’

  ‘I think…’ began Acorna, but Rowan cut her off.

  ‘Not just the Council, all the councils; as many of the elders from the nearby villages as can be mustered.’

  ‘That’ll be no mean feat, Rowan,’ warned Lara, ‘sneaking people in and out with messages.’

  Rowan grinned.

  ‘Collaborating just got a little more complicated, didn’t it?’

  She set off to begin her day’s work.

  She waited until dusk before waking Lynch. He had, after all, gone out early to look after her oldest boy, and she thought she owed him a little uninterrupted sleep before the elders arrived. She was enjoying the last warmth of the sun as she crossed to the barn when all hell broke loose.

  Two spindly-fingered hands snarled around her neck as though they were trying
to grasp a wet fish. They squeezed tight as they found purchase, and she was snatched back violently, off her feet. Her head smashed back to the ground, and a slavering face appeared above her, teeth bared and drooling. Its saliva oozed across her open mouth as she gasped for breath. Its eyes widened as it ground its teeth, pouring all of its strength into wringing her neck. Cries and calls filled the air. She could feel the thumping of feet beside her, and she realised with horror that she hadn’t asked her mother to bar the door behind her. All of the children were still inside the lodge.

  She heard her mother scream.

  Rowan’s consciousness began to fade even as her lungs screamed out at her, but as her vision began to fade, there was a blur of movement above her, and a booted foot crunched into the creature’s face, obliterating its teeth and raining blood all over hers.

  She was momentarily relieved until the kick followed through and the perpetrator’s backside landed hard on her face. She screamed out and as the offending person rolled off, she clutched at her head, feeling as though her skull was crushed. Pain radiated from her nose and under her eyes, which were filling with tears. Rowan wiped them away with her forearm and pushed up onto her elbows, lying on her front as the sounds of battle raged. Lynch was clambering up to his feet, one hand pressed against the base of his spine whilst he thrust a cutlass forward defensively in the other. All manner of Devised were climbing over the wall and pouring through the now broken gate. The door to the lodge stood open and even seeing the back of a sailor disappearing inside did not reassure her.

  Rowan ignored her pain as the steady flow of blood from her nose soaked the front of her shirt. She grabbed the defeated creature’s cudgel and tried to burst into a sprint, the soles of her feet scuttering in the dust before finding purchase. Before she had gone ten paces she collided with the bosun, but the big man never even so much as checked his pace; Rowan bounced right off him and fell heavily to the ground. Her head began to spin and the last she saw was Lynch standing over her, facing off against three approaching creatures.