Haven Magic

by B. V. Larson

  The three younger men all exchanged concerned looks. Brand felt more ill at ease because of Tylag’s manner. His actions spoke louder than words. Tylag was usually full of bluster and never daunted by anything.

  “But, who will present the Offering if he is not here?” asked Brand.

  Tylag shot him a grim stare. “None other can perform it properly,” he said. “None have the craft.”

  “The Offering must be made. It is as simple as that,” said Jak, shrugging. “If it comes down to it, I will make the offering for Rabing Isle myself. The Pact can’t be allowed to fail.”

  “Yes,” said Corbin, his speech slow and rational. “The Offering will be made. It is not that, but the etiquette of the ceremony that will be flawed. We must recall that the ceremony is as important to the Faerie as the Offering itself.”

  “We are only the simple folk of the River Haven,” said Jak, spreading his hands. “What can be done?”

  “Perhaps we can find the Clanless One,” said Brand. “Surely, there must be some way of locating him.” The River Folk often called Myrrdin the Clanless One, as he wasn’t a member of any single clan. Some whispered that he wasn’t entirely human. Brand dismissed such theories.

  “Sensibly, he would be on his way here, sailing on the Berrywine perhaps, or crossing the Border Downs,” Corbin said thoughtfully. Brand felt he could see the cogs working in his mind. Corbin wasn’t a fast thinker, but his ideas were often more penetrating. “Where does he usually hail from at this time of year?”

  Tylag, who had been staring at nothing while tugging on his beard, glanced up at his question. “What? Oh, well, it depends. Most years he comes done from the northwest, from the wilds of Snowdonia, where he spends most of his time, it seems.”

  Brand’s eyes blinked twice at the mention of Snowdonia. He could only imagine what those white-peaked mountains were like, what strange creatures might dwell there. “From Rabing Isle,” he said half to himself, “you can see the crags of Snowdon itself on a clear summer’s day.”

  Corbin looked at him. He paused for a long moment before speaking. “It would seem likely that Myrrdin would pass Rabing Isle then—if he were going to come by water.”

  “Yes, unless he came through the High Marshes or the Deepwood.”

  Tylag smacked his fists together decisively. “Right! That would be the way of it. The thing to do is post a lookout up at Rabing Isle. You must return home, Jak. We must watch the other approaches as well. Something has delayed him and it is likely that he needs help.”

  “What could have delayed him?” asked Jak, frowning.

  Tylag made a sweeping gesture with his thick arms. “How should I know? Anything! His boat could have sprung a leak. His horse could have come up lame.”

  “If he’s on horseback, I doubt he will swim past Rabing Isle tonight,” grumbled Jak. It was plain to Brand that his brother didn’t relish the idea of returning home and missing the celebrations on the Riverton Commons.

  It was Tylag’s turn to frown. “Boys, I am the leader of Clan Rabing, is this not so?”

  All of them nodded. Jak’s nod was noticeably glum.

  “I will not have it said that the Offering was rejected and the Pact broken due to the inaction of Clan Rabing,” he boomed at them, hooking his thumbs in his wide belt and rocking on his heels while eyeing them each in turn. “I ask again, Jak, will you return home and try to escort Myrrdin to Riverton before the Harvest Moon?”

  “Of course,” said Jak, straightening and dropping the frown.

  Thinking of Telyn, Brand gave a tiny sigh of regret. “It will take two to handle the skiff properly, even when it is unloaded. I will come with you.”

  Tylag nodded approvingly. He slapped his son on the back suddenly. “Corbin will go as well. His back is as strong as the river is wide. Besides, I would not think of breaking you boys up on such a night as this.”

  Corbin looked startled, but said nothing.

  “When should we set out, Uncle?” asked Jak.

  “Straight away, nothing is more important. Get yourselves some dinner and spend the night at the Spotted Hog,” he said, handing Corbin a silver half-crown. “You should leave first thing in the morning. I must be getting back to the council meeting.”

  “What about the shadow man?” asked Brand, his voice hushed. “Shouldn’t we tell the council about it?”

  Tylag pursed his lips and gazed back up at the manor, as if seeing the meeting hall and the clan leaders within. “They will take it better from my lips than from yours,” he said finally. “Only Myrrdin will properly be able to puzzle out this mystery, so it is all the more important that you find him and tell him what you have seen. In any case, the Pact must not be broken. We are sending out others to every corner of the Haven. Men stand watch at the borders along the Deepwood and the High Marshes. Myrrdin’s attendance is critical.”

  “There’s something I don’t understand, Uncle,” said Brand. “How can we speed things up? I mean, if Myrrdin’s coming along a different path, or if he’s going by on the water, how will we aid him?”

  Tylag smiled. “There’s one more person I want you to take with you. And she’s very good at finding people—or helping them find her.”

  Brand looked surprised. “You mean Telyn?” he asked.

  Tylag nodded, bade them farewell and crunched gravel on his way back to the manor. Brand watched him go. He didn’t relish the trip back to Rabing Isle under the watchful stare of the shadow man. If Telyn was coming, however….

  “Look at it this way,” said Corbin cheerfully. He threw his arm around the shoulders of Brand and Jak, having to reach up in Brand’s case and down in Jak’s. “At least my brothers will be troubled with the burden of delivering the offerings.”

  “I also see it as justice for this morning’s surprise chores,” added Jak. They all laughed at this and walked together to the Spotted Hog. On their way in, they met four Hoot boys who were just leaving. The sour smell of ale was strong about them. They scowled darkly at the Rabing boys. The entryway way to the common room was low-ceilinged, and they all were forced to shoulder their way past one another in close quarters.

  “Merling fodder,” muttered one of the Hoot boys, a skinny slouching youth with hair that stuck up at random angles. Brand knew him to be Slet, a dockworker. Another of them snorted in amusement.

  Jak reacted as if stung. He grabbed Slet’s tunic, halting the two groups at the entrance. “What did you say?” he demanded. Corbin put a heavy hand on Jak’s shoulder, but Jak ignored him. He only stared into Slet’s face, awaiting an answer.

  Slet’s eyes slid around to the faces of his companions. None of them met his gaze, not wanting trouble. Slet took a moment to spit onto the floor between Jak’s wading boots. “Nuthin’“ he said. “For now.”

  Jak released Slet with a visible effort of will. The two groups separated without further incident. Corbin ordered lunch with the silver half-crown, which Brand knew was much too much money for a prince’s lunch in Riverton, but such was the generosity of their uncle. With the rest of the money Corbin made several other purchases before returning to the table.

  Jak ate the lunch of steak and kidney pie without interest. Brand and Corbin exchanged glances. They had hoped his mood would have improved with food and time, but it hadn’t. “Jak, I’m sure they didn’t mean...” began Brand, but his brother cut him off.

  “You don’t remember rightly. You were too young, and I was younger than you are now. When the River took our parents, they said it was merlings. It looked like everything was finished...everything was too much...” he said. He stabbed his fork into his pie and forced down another bite.

  Brand thought about what it would be like if he were left to care for Rabing Isle, all of it, right now. It wasn’t a pleasant thought. He turned to Corbin and grinned in surprise. Corbin already had the tavern’s Jump-Pin board out and was setting the metal pegs up for a three-way match. Without a word, he made a move and pushed it to Jak, who ate two m
ore bites before acknowledging the game. He finally moved with a sigh and pushed the board to Brand. The three ate and played in silence. As usual, Corbin won.

  The following morning they left the Spotted Hog at dawn. They walked down to the docks in a dark mood. Although the sun was still bright, the autumn air seemed colder, the wind stealing the warmth from their bodies and stinging their eyes with their whipping hair. Corbin soon threw up his hood as he often did. When they got to the dock and made ready to board the skiff, they were surprised to find Telyn sitting in the prow, already in the act of casting off.

  “You’d better hurry up and jump down,” she said. “The current is pulling me out.”

  “Who put you in charge?” demanded Jak gruffly, jumping into the boat and snatching the lines from her hands.

  Telyn stood up in the skiff as well and put her hands on her hips. “I’m not in charge, but I’m going with you.”

  Jak glowered at her, then shot a look at Brand who was climbing into the mid-section. Corbin followed him. Jak tossed the coiled line down and went to release the stern moorings, throwing up his hands in a gesture of disgust and surrender.

  “What’s with your brother?” asked Telyn with some concern.

  Brand explained the events at the tavern briefly.

  “Well, I’m no Silure, nor am I a Hoot,” Telyn pointed out.

  Brand looked at her, suddenly realizing that she might well have taken offense. He was quick to assure her that it was just his brother’s mood.

  Telyn nodded and finally smiled at him. Her smile brought a warm feeling to Brand. “How did you know that we were going back to Rabing Isle?” he asked.

  “I hear things,” she said, reaching up and giving his ear a playful tug. “Besides, I’m following on the track of something right now, and I’m not letting go until I find out what it’s about. Today, I learned that you are part of all this, Brand Rabing.”

  Brand nodded, not really knowing what she was talking about, but finding it easy to agree. He could think of no one he would rather have aboard for the journey. The sails were of great use now that the skiff was running high and empty and the winds were up. They were borne upriver quickly.

  Chapter Five

  Telyn’s Signal

  Traveling up the river Brand had a nostalgic, almost melancholy feeling come over him. Everything seemed to be changing, becoming more exciting and more ominous by the day. The seasons were shifting, getting colder rapidly. Even while the sun was still high in the sky, the wind carried the chill of a cold night ahead. He eyed the scudding gray clouds and wondered if it might not snow tonight. It almost never snowed before the Harvest Moon, but anything seemed possible this autumn.

  “Everything seems odd to me, Telyn,” he said wistfully. They sat in bow of the skiff, while Jak gripped the tiller and Corbin tended the sails. By silent agreement, his clansmen had arranged for him to be alone with her.

  She didn’t answer him right away. The skiff’s mast creaked and the river bubbled and splashed as the wind pushed the boat against the current. Telyn dangled her fingers in the white foam that curled up the skiff’s dark hull.

  “Something is definitely wrong,” she agreed finally. She stretched out and Brand was taken by the way her hair fluttered freely in the wind.

  They spent much of the trip in quiet conversation, and by the time Rabing Isle hove into view, Brand found that he had sidled close to her and could feel her warmth. He was almost sorry to see the journey end.

  “Well,” said Jak, clapping him on the shoulder as they moored the skiff at their home dock in a tiny green-water cove. “At least we’ve seen nothing more of the shadow man.”

  Brand felt a surge of well-being to be home again. The light was failing and the wind was downright cold now, but all of them were smiling. Rabing Isle was a beautiful place, full of good memories for all of them.

  They marched up through the apple tree grove to the foot of the only hill on the island. They followed the winding gravel path through the vegetable garden, its leafy green growth fading to brown now with the onset of winter. Corbin carried two weighty rucksacks with him, Brand noticed with a smile. One was probably full of games and storybooks while the other was doubtlessly packed with extra food.

  “I hope you didn’t give up all the year’s crop of berrywine to the Offering,” he said in a leading fashion as the heavy log walls came into view between the towering berry bush hedges that surrounded the house.

  “No more than the customary one part in seven,” Jak assured him. He gestured toward the winery where the family press and fermentation tanks were sheltered. “If you wish to inspect our stocks personally….”

  Corbin grinned. “Ah, I’m sure that your cellars are more than adequate for my needs.”

  Telyn poked him in the side. “I for one have my doubts!”

  They all laughed and headed into the house. It was made of rough-hewn logs with mortar filling the cracks. The windows were all shuttered and the second story wore a steep roof of shingles that resembled a farmer’s hat. The house was impressively large, having been built to hold several families. Four generations ago, it had housed many people, but now most of the rooms were empty and layered in cold dust.

  Telyn raced forward to the stairs with a delighted cry. “It has been years since I rode this banister!” she said, gripping the big rounded post at the bottom with a grin. “Remember when I pushed you out of the big yew tree out front, Brand?”

  Brand tried to look sour. “How could I forget?”

  “Perhaps you should chop some fresh wood for the fire, Brand,” suggested Jak in a tone that Brand knew made it an order. This didn’t bother him, however. Jak was the master of the house, and in any case, he was simply glad to be home.

  “As I recall, we have two axes,” Brand said, eyeing Corbin.

  Corbin grinned and followed him out into the yard. They retrieved the axes from the woodshed and set to work. Soon, the chill air was forgotten as they worked up a good sweat. Chopping wood was something of a competition for them. Corbin had the weight and strength to split a log with a single stroke, but Brand had the finesse to be able to do it more often.

  “You’ll never chop faster than I, you know that,” said Brand, speaking in gasps between swings.

  “You’re as competitive as your brother, in your own way,” observed Corbin. Chips flew and caught in their hair. The thunking sound of axes falling filled the yard.

  “Ha! If that’s not the river calling the shore brown!” snorted Brand. “I’m not the one who would rook Gram Rabing herself in a game of Swap-cards!”

  After this brief exchange, they saved their breath for lifting their axes. The wood piled up high and fast at their feet. For speed, it was nearly a draw, although Brand’s pile was marginally larger. When both of them had several armloads, they headed back into the house.

  Inside they all fell to talking about old times, and even Jak seemed to have shed his dark mood. Corbin talked while working in the kitchen. He donned an apron that probably hadn’t been worn since their parents had been lost and set to work on a meal of astounding variety and proportions. As Brand had suspected, Corbin’s rucksacks contained a wealth of foodstuffs, bought at the Spotted Hog with the remains of Tylag’s money. They had no objections as hosts, however, recalling the morning’s “chores” and the vast amounts that Corbin could put away in a single evening.

  They feasted on smoked duck, fresh onion-bread, goat cheese and boiled merling eggs. For dessert, big crescent slices of broadleaf melon were handed around. After dinner and washing up, they gathered at the fireplace and sipped berrywine. Jak built up a big fire with twice as much wood as usual. Outside, the wind had come up and began to howl.

  “There’s no doubt of it, we’re having our first winter storm tonight,” said Jak. He put his feet up over the side of his overstuffed leather chair, in just the fashion that their father had long ago complained about, but now that he was the master of the house, none spoke. “Still, it’s
good to have friends in the house again.”

  Brand felt a wash of well being. It was good to be home with friends when winter’s first breath was blowing outside. The house had been empty for too long. He looked at Telyn and his thoughts drifted pleasantly. She was brushing her hair out and staring at the fire. Her lips curved up in a delicate smile, and he knew she was aware of his attention. A blush, heated even more deeply by the wine in his belly, crept up his neck and cheeks.

  “Swap-cards, anyone?” asked Corbin, nonchalantly. Jak rolled his eyes to the ceiling then finished his wine with a gulp. His boots came down with a thud. “Okay, but this time you lose,” he said . Brand seconded the motion.

  Telyn played for three hands, winning two of them. Corbin’s eyebrows were comically high as he watched her fingers flutter over the cards and nimbly snatch up the polished sticks and set them in the appropriate patterns with a flourish. Next to his deliberate movements, hers were like lightning. Still, she somehow seemed distracted. After the three hands, she decided to retire early.

  Brand watched her go up the creaking steps with concern. The allure of the game was too much to allow for worries, however, and the night wore on quickly. The majority of the betting beads ended up on Jak’s side this time.

  Corbin took the loss with easy confidence. “Every dog has his day,” he said.

  Jak slapped his legs and began pulling his waders back on. “Well,” he said, “It’s high time we set out lamps for Myrrdin. If he’s out there on the river tonight, he’ll need them just to avoid capsizing on the shoals.”

  Brand made ready to go with him, but Corbin volunteered for the duty, claiming he needed the exercise. Corbin donned his waders and they helped Jak with readying six heavy hurricane lamps of tarnished brass. Each tall lamp had its wick adjusted and its oil vessel filled. Carrying three lamps each, Jak and Corbin threw open the door and stamped outside. Brand was surprised by the wind’s strength, it tousled everything in the room, spraying the swap-cards like fallen leaves and making the fire gust up and sputter. He pushed the door shut after them, tended the fire and packed away the cards.