by Unknown
The last of the grain was loaded. The wagon pulled away and stopped. A young boy caught his sister’s hand and ran. He was near the riverbank when he stumbled, an arrow in his back. His sister screamed. She was dragged back. The woman pleaded with a sergeant who laughed. One of them tore at her blouse. The rest were shoved into the barn. They pushed against the doors as they closed. Hawkmoon rose , gathering his weapons. “This is madness. I am not going down there”.
“I don’t need you below. I want you up here with the crossbow” Hawkmoon passed from cover under the trees. The dogs spotted him, immediately, racing up the slope. The officer looked to the treeline, catching sight of a man clambering through the snow. For a moment it looked like he was trying to escape but to the officer’s amazement the fellow seemed to be coming down
The fool means to fight us.
The dogs had almost reached him. One sprang for his face ; the man slashed at it.The other ran onto the point of a spear.
The officer shouted.“Sergeant, Leave the woman, go and kill him” The others continued with preparations to burn the warehouse. One padlocked the doors. Another bent over straw with a flint. Sparks flew . He was blowing on the flame when something struck him low in the spine.
The sergeant shouted at the archers. One collapsed face down. The madman reached them. At first he looked as if he would stop to fight, instead he ducked under a wild swing and ran past The other turned, pointing a crossbow. A bolt struck his hand, slicing his fingers.
The soldiers were rushing up the lane as he rounded the corner. An axe swept for his head as he slid on ice. One of them stopped, head to one side .Blood poured through the chainmail. The officer stood back as three Reivers formed a circle around the interloper. One of them had a curved sword. The second was frightened. He was the one with the axe. Tall and skinny, in the confusion he had picked the wrong weapon. The swing from the axe would be slow, without power. The third was a problem.
Hawkmoon stopped, shoulders slumping, his expression dejected; a beaten man. The young one rushed in blade reaching for his gut. Hawkmoon stepped aside turning his wrist and stabbed him with the short sword. A whisper of air him gave him warning and he stepped back . The axe smashed the short blade, numbing his hand .The skinny one lifted the axe again. Changing hands Hawkmoon stabbed him in the eye. That left the big fellow…
Bekter had come down. He stood above the lane, crossbow pointing at the officer. The Reiver picked up the axe. From the way he held the weapon it clearly belonged to him. A narrow space was nowhere to face a battleaxe in the hands of someone who knew how to use it. Hawkmoon turned, sprinting from the lane. Mistaking it for fear, the chief roared in delight, .Hawkmoon stopped in the square, his back to the tree, watching as the big Reiver approached.. He was heavily muscled and quick on his feet. Gleaming in the light of the snow, the axe had double blades, shaped like a butterfly’s’ wings. They stood, measuring each other. It began.The Reiver moved in constant balance. No matter how he wielded the axe he always brought it back in time to parry .He made his mistake when he missed, opening himself to a counter strike.
It was a trick. The axe stopped , reversing itself. Hawkmoon had time to marvel at the strength it took to turn such a weapon in mid sweep before the axe came round to shatter his sword. The next blow was coming to his neck. He ducked, squeezing his body into a tight ball. The axe buried itself in the tree. The Reiver pulled at the weapon, grunting as he struggled to lever it free.. Ducking under the handle Hawkmoon stabbed the Reiver in the groin with the remnants of the blade. His opponent fell , blood gouting on the snow.. Hawkmoon knelt alongside the fallen warrior.
“The Monkey Tree. It traps the blade.”
His face had paled with blood loss. Grasping Hawk moons’ sleeve he gasped his final words;”I will wait for you at the river”
The officer ran for the horses. Bekter shot him. They went to the storehouse and broke open the doors. The villagers rushed out, crying. The headman was profuse in his thanks.
”I was not aware people had pushed so far into Reiver lands”Hawkmoon observed.
“It is not their land. The Men of the North owned all this... They let us live as long as we pay taxes and take nothing they want for themselves. I don’t understand what happened today. There is no trouble normally”
“They have an army to feed and they don’t mind where they get provisions. The ones that came today are dead but there will be more. If they find the bodies you will be executed. All we have done is to buy you time. “.
“We will sink their bodies in the deep part of the river. The fish will deal with their remains. Will you help us get away?”
Hawkmoon shook his head. “We leave in the morning. I will give you a letter to the Elven King. He will provide for you. Leave as soon as possible”
Soulbiter.
Supper was served in the Longhouse with Hawkmoon and Bekter as honoured guests. Bekter was in his element, basking in the adulation of the River Folk. The woman who offered herself to the Reivers sat in his lap.
Hawkmoon went to his room early, relieved to be away from the chatter . He took oil and a cloth to the crossbow. The short sword was nicked. It would need edging. He sat, staring at the axe. Eyes drooping with fatigue he wrapped himself in a blanket.
When he woke the room was freezing. Ice formed on the inside of the windows. His breath came in clouds of vapour. The axe was floating in mid-air . As he looked black smoke poured from the blades . The oil lamp guttered and the light faded. Red eyes gleamed at him from the dark Soon a face was visible. It was human in a vague sense, a mouth full of teeth filed and pointed. It bared its lips in a grotesque parody of a smile.
“Greetings Deathwalker.” The voice was low, rough, like nails over glass.
“Who are you?”
“I am the Soulbiter.
“Why are you here?”
“To meet my new master.”
“Demons obey no one but sorcerers and that only until they are paid... Why are you here?
“To serve”
“If you know me you know I am wise in your ways. Your service would come at a price I would never pay. I could throw the axe in the river. It would never be seen again”
“There you are wrong.You will take the axe because you cannot risk it falling to another. You will live with it even as it consumes you. No other has your strength. It will be my darkness against your light. We will see who is victorious”
Downriver.
The morning came late with fog on the water so thick the far bank could not be seen They could have been standing at the edge of the sea.. Bekter was with the headman who had had provided a boat. It was narrow and rode high on the water. Hawkmoon sat on a stone nearby. The girl from the night before helped Bekter load the stores.
“I have drawn a map of the river from here to the gorge. It is as detailed as I remember. There are settlements here and here”Angos said, pointing at the map “they are hostile. Stop and wait for night before you pass. If they spot you they will follow in war canoes. Each of them carry eight paddles. You cannot outrun them. I have marked points to look out for so you can stop before you are too near. There are rapids but nothing dangerous until you reach the Gorge. This is important…you have to be off the river before the canyons. If you are carried in you will not get out. “
Bekter folded the map. “Thank you for this and the boat.”
“It is little enough for what you did… He seems somewhat down at the mouth this morning” Angos remarked, nodding at Hawkmoon.Bekter shrugged”He is like that after a fight… When are you leaving?”
“There are hunting parties out and people in the woods that must be brought in. Perhaps we will meet again down river?The Spirits of Water protect you”
“And you my friend.. Hawkmoon, get in, we’re leaving”Bekter stowed the food away. The girl touched Bekter on the arm. “Take me with you”
“Lass, I tell you truly, you are safer with your people. Where we are headed, there is little chance w
e will survive. If I live through it I have a family to go back to…”
”The fog was thinning out with the sun clear of the mountains. The headman called from the bank “Use the pole for the shallows and watch for sand banks. Stay to the middle as much as you can.”
Hawkmoon sat up front; not speaking.. Bekter told the headman it was his way after a fight but Hawkmoon was talkative after battle. This was the first time Bekter had seen him with an axe. After dawn, he watched him train with it. Battle axes are unsuitable for tall men. The centre of gravity is too high.Hawkmoon used it like an expert. Fully balanced, powerful swings, never exposing himself long enough for a counter blow. Earlier, when the girl made to touch it he slapped her hand away.They moved out into the stream. Angos said the fog came on the river at this time of year; a herald of cold weather. It would hide them from spying eyes..
The headman had done well by them There was smoked fish, fruit and cornmeal. Bekter offered him a plate of cooked fish, sliced apples and a mug of sloe wine. Hawkmoon left it untouched. The day passed with the sun failing to pierce the murk. As the light dimmed Bekter guided their craft to an island in the middle of the river.
Dragging the boat to cover , Bekter found a hollow to set up camp.. Snow began to fall . Covering Hawkmoon in a blanket, he wrapped himself in the coat Shula made for him. She had spent a winter making it from the hide of a Bison. Her scent was on it. At least the cold would keep the sand fleas away…
He sat overlooking the sea. A soft wind brushed his face.. Someone sat alongside.
She was old, dressed in black , a shawl over white hair; her skin lined with age . Her eyes were large, brimming with life. The moonlight caught flecks of gold in their depths...
“Are you a witch”
The old woman laughed.” No child...”
“Where am I? What is this place?”
“Your body is at the river, with your friend. You are safe…for now. “
“Why am I here?”
“You have fallen into despair. It is a trap laid for your spirit. The Demon spoke true, you must fight.
“I do not listen to advice from demons”
“You are wise but sometimes, despite themselves, demons speak truth.”
“I have been fighting all my life.
“I know… You fought for the people at the river though they will die soon enough. You are full of loneliness. You laugh and joke with people and few see what you keep hidden. You turned aside from the love of a Queen. That was noble. Something holds you to your course regardless of the cost. Riseacsacsli9b now and continue to write the story of your life.”
The smell of cooking woke Bekter. Hawkmoon was bent over the fire, fish sizzling in the pan.
“Eat this while I load up. I want to make good distance today”
Rapids.
The river rose and the current grew stronger… Ice formed at the banks. The temperature dropped . The wind that had brought them turned south driving snow before it. He watched his friend. Hawkmoon was having those dreams ; the ones that left him hollow eyed in the morning. Bekter kept the map close watching for danger. Except for a near miss with a piece of wreckage from the bridge, the day passed without incident. They passed villages empty of people and animals. Some had houses still smouldering. At one four men followed in a war canoe .Arrows were fired but fell short. Bekter put up a small sail. With this and the oars they raced to the next bend. Hawkmoon pointed at shallow water rising to a shingle beach.
“Better keep going, we can outrun them if the wind holds. That canoe is built for eight warriors, there are only four. Sooner or later they will give up” They came on behind, pulling with deep strokes. The wind eased allowing the canoe to get close enough for arrows. Turning in the narrow craft Bekter fired with the big crossbow and one of them fell out ... The canoe sheered away and began the work of making their way upstream. The body floated past.
“We have come too far. We passed a stand of Oak and two round boulders at opposite sides those were marks we were not to pass in daylight”
Spotting a hard shingle beach they rowed to the bank . Lifting the craft from the water they manhandled it into the underbrush. It was heavy but dragging it would leave tracks They were hardly in the trees when a war party went by heading upstream. The body of the one Bekter shot must have been seen. The canoes were similar to the one that followed them but these had eight warriors.
They had no way of knowing if the war party that went upstream was part of a larger force or on its own. Covering the boat they settled to wait for dark. After a quick meal Bekter went for a look around and came on a small cave further back. They moved in, spending the night with a family of foxes.
Heavy fog came with dawn, shrouding the river. It was broad here and slow. They drifted, using the oars with care lest a splash carry in the silence. Whispers seemed unnaturally loud. Urinating in a wooden bowl they dipped it in the water. It went on like that all day, fog so heavy it deprived them of sight or means to form a notion of time. The river flowed, so slowly it was hard to know which direction or indeed if they were moving at all. Hawkmooon sat at the front. From time to time his hand would reach to his side, caressing the blades of the axe, its edges speckled with moisture. The fog lifted as dusk fell changing one dark for another.
The river narrowed as it made a right hand turn. Lights came through the murk. The sound of voices carrying over the water. A scream rent the morning. They grabbed for their weapons. The sound was repeated ending in moans. The headman had warned; do not to be taken alive. If they were captured, it was the women who would come with knives. If the man were strong they would tend to him, stitching the cuts and coating them with salve. When he was healed they would start again. If he lived long enough for them to get bored they would sell him to a neighbouring clan.
The current picked up in mid river and they floated past the lights. They bent low hoping if the boat was seen it would be mistaken for a tree trunk. The captive was screaming, encouraged by jeers of the men and laughter from the women. Something caught the bow, turning the boat. In a moment the boat was broadside on to the current. Bekter reached into the water. His hand connected with a branch. He breathed in relief, expecting a net or chain left to catch passing boats. Slipping over the side Hawkmoon passed him a knife with a serrated edge. They set to cutting their way free. Without warning the branch floated free. It rolled taking Bekter underneath. He came to the surface, spluttering. A rope fell on his face slipping round his throat. For a moment it tightened strong enough to choke him. He grabbed it with both hands.... Hawkmoon pulled him to the side. They waited while the current took them downriver before he clambered back inside. Something bit him as he left the water. Hawkmoon saw a shape detach itself from Bekter’s foot
It was beginning to snow. Bekter trembled, face turning blue..Hawkmoon searched for the last heat stones. He stuffed it inside Bekter’s clothing The Bison robe came next. It would have to do until they were away.
The sun rose beaming light through the woods. Snow was thick on the banks; ice building at the edges.. Hawkmoon judged the next trouble spot still a day off. Bekter slept as Hawkmoon steered. A ribbon of islands appeared midriver, some rocky, others were mud banks. Some of the bigger plots had abandoned shacks. . Hawkmoon loaded the crossbow and lay flat in the boat. They slipped past.
Bekter slept through the day, face beaded with sweat. When he removed the boot Hawkmoon saw a red puncture above the ankle. The leg from toe to calf was red and swollen. Hawkmoon pressed it
“Considering how far we’ve come a bite is little enough”
Bekter gasped “It’s not your foot.”
Hawkmoon took crystals from his pack. Selecting the blue he put it over the bite mark and wrapped it in a dry kerchief. As it took effect Bekter started to doze and stayed asleep until they approached their next stopping place.. Hawkmoon risked a light to see the foot . The bite was leaking pus.. The island had a shack with slates on the roof .The floor was dry sand. Bekter forced him
self to eat.
Next day a flight of birds crossed the river to the front. They made their homes in the Mallorn. Each tree had a single nesting pair. They ate Mallorn fruit and took its seed with them as they flew. This morning he counted twelve . Somewhere beyond the river was a Mallorn wood . Watching he made a note to tell the witches..One circled above and dipping a wing arrowed to their little craft.. It lifted again and flew away leaving a single golden feather to drift into Bekter’s lap..
“Put it in your hat band. It’s good luck”
A splash made them turn. A shape passed under the boat, gliding to the bank. It rose from the water and stepped onto the sand. A girl, dressed in green, water running from long red hair. Mist formed about her and followed her steps.. She beckoned to them. Hawkmoon reached for the oars.
“What are you doing?”
“She wants us to come with her”
“So do vampires. Would you go with them?”
“She is not a vampire. She is an elemental, a spirit of the water. They are friends and they can help us but you have to know how to behave around them”
“There are others? “
“Three. This is a powerful river so they are powerful. You must not frighten them. No loud talk or sudden movements. They are shy around people. Their essence resides in the humid ether so they have the capacity to live in water and control it. They are good friends to some and deadly to others. Don’t touch anything. Take only what is offered; do not refuse. If the food they offer is raw or has a strange taste, eat it. Take nothing else. “
They pulled the boat where it could not be seen from the river. The girl led them on a path by the waterside. Two girls sat in a low branch, singing. and came to him . Bekter thought her touch would be cold but it was warm and alive. There was a fire with fish roasting. She brought it to Bekter who began to eat.
