by Julie Hunt
‘Sisters,’ she said. ‘On a cliff far from here is an ancient stone. It’s taller than a man, and its surface is worn from the storms that blow in from the western sea. This stone was once a man, a giant called Scabbard, who loved battle more than anything else in the world. His enemy was a warrior called Pike, who lived in a stone fort that looked over the ocean.’
The aunties settled back to listen. There were murmurs of approval.
‘Scabbard lived in a cave at the bottom of the cliff. Every day he and Pike met on the path and fought. They fought fiercely with swords and battleaxes, and the clash and clamour of their struggle rang out across the ocean.’
I looked around the faces in the firelight. Except for the Great Aunt, everyone was watching Eadie. Now that they weren’t looking at me they didn’t seem so worrisome. Olive had a kind face, like somebody’s grandmother, and Lily and Myriad looked harmless. Still, I didn’t want to be owned by any of them. What will happen if I don’t choose? I wondered.
The Great Aunt, meanwhile, had fixed me with a fierce stare. I tried to ignore her.
‘Scabbard had a burning rage inside him,’ Eadie said. ‘If the cold waves hadn’t washed over him each night, he would have burned up. Every day he vowed to defeat his opponent, Pike, but the two were equally matched. Then, one night, the warrior Pike dreamed that he lost the endless battle . . .’
I stopped listening to the story and tried to make a plan. If I took my chances in the Far Reaches, perhaps I wouldn’t get lost. Perhaps I would find my way out of the marshes. Perhaps I would find my way to Hub, and from there I could go anywhere I wanted.
Eadie was standing in the circle of marsh aunties. Her face had the look of a mad warrior in battle. ‘Spears went right through him without leaving a mark,’ she cried. ‘Deathblow after deathblow glanced off him. Pike could not be killed.’
The fire crackled and a spark landed on Eadie’s coat, igniting a bunch of dried leaves that poked from a pocket. She let it flare for a moment before slapping it out.
‘Years passed,’ she said. ‘Pike married and had a son . . .’
The marsh aunties listened intently. I glanced at Hazel then quickly looked away. Her green eyes frightened me. I wondered if she could read my thoughts like Eadie could. I closed my mind and listened to the story.
‘When the Siltman came to the door, Pike knew what the old man wanted, and he was glad that his son was away from the fort at the time riding his great hound over the hills inland from the coast. He promised to deliver the child that evening. The Siltman turned and walked away without saying a word.
‘As soon as he could, the fearless warrior took the child and ran. He ran across the country in the direction his wife had taken. He ran all day and all night.
‘When Scabbard came up the path the next morning, Pike was not there to fight him, so he kept going. He reached the top of the cliff and came to the fort. The place was deserted, except for the dog which stood guarding the door. Shadow growled and leapt towards the intruder. Without a moment’s hesitation, Scabbard speared the dog straight through the chest. At that moment, the warrior Pike fell dead.’
The aunties gasped.
‘And the boy?’ cried Olive. ‘What happened to the little boy?’
Eadie lowered her voice. The aunties had to lean in to hear what she was saying. They had forgotten about me for the moment. But the Great Aunt had not forgotten. I felt her eyes on me.
‘The boy fell to the ground,’ Eadie said. ‘He tried to wake his father. He was too young to understand what had happened. In his desperation he cried for his mother, and when she didn’t come he called for his dog. Shadow was dead, poor beast, but his ghost heard the boy crying. It glided silently across the country, and when it reached the child, it picked him up and gently put him on its back. The boy stopped crying immediately. The ghost dog put its phantom nose to the ground and followed the scent of the boy’s mother.’
The marsh aunties sighed and sat back. Eadie looked around at her audience, then she put the nail back in the pouch.
‘A beautiful tale, Eadie,’ said Lily.
‘A rescue story,’ Olive sighed. ‘I love a good rescue.’
‘So loyal, that Shadow, even as a wraith.’ Myriad dabbed at her eyes with the hem of her dress.
Eadie sat down and tucked the pouch inside her coat. The aunties clapped loudly, but the Great Aunt looked unimpressed.
‘Next!’ she said, raising her palms to stop the applause.
Olive put her hand on my knee. ‘I’ll go next. I’ll show the waif how I weave my magical cloth.’
She reached into her bag and pulled out balls of coloured thread, but before she could start the Great Aunt stood up and looked out over the water.
‘Stop!’ came a voice. ‘Stop the Welcoming! Someone has cheated!’
‘Flo,’ the Great Aunt cried. ‘You’re late!’
The island bobbed up and down as Flo climbed onto it. She had a lily in her hair, and she was holding one in her hand.
‘The Welcoming cannot proceed,’ she panted as she bustled into the firelight. ‘Eadie has broken one of the rules.’
‘Which rule?’ the Great Aunt demanded.
The moon disappeared behind some clouds and a breeze blew up around the island.
‘Rule five,’ Flo replied. ‘Eadie has already begun teaching the waif her special skill. She began training the waif before the Welcoming.’
The Great Aunt frowned and the wind grew stronger. I could hear the reed-boats knocking together.
‘Is this true?’ she asked.
More clouds appeared from nowhere. The air grew cold.
‘The lilies don’t lie,’ Flo answered. ‘Eadie has been teaching the waif how to tell stories.’
The Great Aunt turned to Eadie. A sudden gust blew the fire apart and I heard a moaning sound, as if a great wind was gathering somewhere over the marshes.
Eadie leaned towards me. ‘Not over the marshes,’ she whispered. ‘It’s right here. Hazel is furious!’ And, with that, she picked me up and threw me over her shoulder.
‘Put her down!’ the Great Aunt roared.
Eadie ignored her. She tipped me into the reed-boat just as the island began to shake and buck.
‘Here comes the rain!’ someone yelled.
Thunder rumbled in the distance and the rain poured down. The aunties gathered their bundles and hurried to their crafts.
‘Paddle for your lives!’ I heard someone shout. ‘The island is breaking up!’
Eadie steered the boat into a swift current and we were swept along before the blast of the storm.
‘How will you find your hide?’ I shouted.
‘I don’t need to,’ she cried. ‘We’re leaving the marshes!’
‘But the rules—’ I yelled.
‘Forget the rules! You’re mine!’
‘But I didn’t choose you,’ I cried.
A flash of lightning lit up Eadie’s face. Her eyes were wild and her smile was fearsome.
‘All the aunties want a waif,’ she yelled. ‘But I am the only one who must have one!’
Strands of vine whipped around her head. Her hackles were raised. She turned her back on me and I watched her coat grow huge in the darkness, until it was all I could see. The cold rain pelted down and the wind howled as we were blown into the night.
‘What happened to the boy?’ I cried. ‘Did Shadow’s ghost take him to his mother?’
Eadie turned to me and roared with laughter.
‘Lesson three, waif,’ she shouted. ‘Don’t finish the story until you get to the end! They reached a river, and the ghost hound lost the scent. He didn’t know which way to go, so he headed to the river mouth, where the Siltman was waiting.’
THE RIVER
‘Here we go – swamp-balm seed. It’s not hard to find,’ said Eadie as she waded through the marsh with a handful of long yellow pods. The sun was rising through the mist, and there was no sign of the wild person Eadie had been the night befo
re, just as there was no sign of the storm, except for some wreckage floating on the water – a broken ladder and some tree branches.
Eadie climbed into the boat. She opened the pods and put the seeds in her mouth.
‘I’ll fix your leg first, then we’ll get you out of those wet clothes. I haven’t got my grinding stone,’ she said, ‘so I’ll have to chew these.’
She spat the pulp into one hand, took some dried herbs from a pocket in her coat with the other, and rolled them together.
‘You’ve been asleep for a long time,’ she said. ‘I don’t know how you slept through that gale.’ She began unwinding the bindweed from my leg.
The night before seemed like a dream. It was as if the storm had blown the memory of it about in my mind, and it took me a while to put the pieces back together – the marsh aunties, the story, the Great Aunt’s green eyes full of rage, and Eadie’s wild face.
I was soaked through, and so cold that my hands and feet were numb.
‘Did I cause the storm?’ I asked.
‘It was Hazel’s storm but yes, you were the cause of it.’
‘I don’t know if I want to go with you, Eadie.’
‘Suit yourself.’ She shrugged. ‘We can part company as soon as we reach the river, if you like.’
‘What river?’
‘There are many ways into the marshes but few ways out. Either we go towards the Far Reaches and risk the Churn, or we find the river. The river goes to Hub.’
Eadie put the bindweed aside and looked at my leg. There was a mud pack underneath and it was hard as rock.
‘I wish I had my stone. I need something to knock it open with.’
She took up the paddle and tapped along the length of the mud casing until it cracked, then she gave it a sharp knock and it fell apart in two pieces. She removed some white crumbling paste from my leg and replaced it with the newly chewed pulp.
‘It’s healing well. You’ll be walking in no time.’
She leaned over the side and scooped up a big lump of mud, which she slapped down in the bottom of the boat. Then she wiped her hands on her coat.
‘Where is the Holdfast?’ she asked herself. ‘That’s right, heart pocket.’ She plunged her hand into a deep pocket over her chest and pulled out what she needed.
‘Without this, the clay could take days to set.’ She packed the fresh mud around my leg and sprinkled it with Holdfast, then she secured it with the bindweed. ‘Ah, here comes the sun. That will help. Give me your dress.’
I didn’t want to take off my clothes, but before I knew it, Eadie had me out of my vest and was slipping my dress over my head.
‘Use that until yours dries.’ She nodded towards the bottom of the boat. The dress Olive had given me was there, and so was Nettie’s fish. Eadie must have thrown them in when we left the floating island.
I put the new dress on, wondering how it hadn’t got drenched in all the rain. It was dry and warm.
‘I don’t know how she does it,’ Eadie said. ‘All her fabrics are like that. The clothes she makes always fit perfectly, too, and they never wear out.’
She threaded her paddle through the arms of my dress and my vest, then she reached over the side of the boat and picked up a long pole that was floating past.
‘I’ll hang your clothes up to dry,’ she said, tying the paddle to the pole with bindweed so it formed a crosspiece. She then set the pole upright like a mast and my clothes were high in the air, hanging like an empty version of myself – a Peat scarecrow. But if it was a scarecrow it didn’t work, because the shag landed on top and gave a honking cry. Eadie glanced up.
‘How did it end then?’ she muttered. ‘Everyone get home all right?’
The bird looked into her eyes without blinking.
‘Well, it’s only what she deserved, the old cow.’ Eadie spat over the side.
I wondered what had happened.
‘Marsh auntie business,’ she said. ‘Hazel got blasted by her own storm, and it caused a power shift. They’re bringing forward the Eclipse. Keep still while I go and get you some breakfast.’
She stepped out of the boat and waded through the water, the shadow of her coat moving in front of her like a strange rippling creature. When she disappeared into some rushes, I began thinking about the story she had told the night before – the boy, the dog and the bargain with the Siltman. Somehow, I felt it was connected to me . . . but surely that was a foolish idea. How could I have anything to do with those fighting men and the stone fort on top of the cliff? I went through the story in my mind, and I was halfway through telling it to myself when Eadie returned.
‘Excellent,’ she said. ‘You’ll be ready to perform it by the time we reach Hub.’
Her arms were full of small round fruit. She handed them to me and threw one up to the shag, then she got into the boat and began paddling. When the boat caught a current, she set down the paddle and put her hands behind her head.
‘Ah, this reminds me of the old travelling life,’ she said. ‘Before I came to the marshes.’
The shag spread his wings but stayed put, crouching above us as the boat skimmed over the water. Now and then we swerved to avoid some floating pieces of walkway. We passed the roof of a hut, then the current took us up a channel that wound through a thick field of reeds.
‘How do you know this is the right current?’ I asked.
‘The water level has risen with the rain. All channels lead to the river. That’s the beauty of a storm like that – it lets the marsh leak out into the world.’
I wondered where Eadie had lived before she came to the marshes. The Badlands?
She smiled to herself. ‘It’s so long ago I can hardly remember it. A lifetime ago. Many lifetimes, actually.’
I looked into her face and wished I could read her thoughts the way she could read mine. She could be telling me anything and I wouldn’t know whether it was true or not.
She gave me an easy smile, but the fierce look I had seen on her face in the lightning flash was still vivid in my mind.
‘You worry too much, Peat,’ she said. ‘Chew on these.’
She handed me some freshly picked green leaves. She must have gathered them when she got the fruit.
‘Worrywort,’ she said. ‘Also good for flavouring soups and stews.’
I chewed the leaves slowly and a crisp, peppery flavour filled my mouth.
The warmth of the sun and the gentle rocking of the boat made me think of the river I had dreamed about at Amos Last’s house. I hoped that was the river we were heading for.
After some time the channel widened and the reed field was replaced with low scrub. The sun was warm and Eadie’s coat steamed, giving off a pungent smell. The shag settled his wings.
‘His feathers are dry now, and your clothes should be, too,’ Eadie said. She lowered the pole, causing the shag to screech and take flight. I put my clothes back on over the top of Olive’s dress.
When we reached the river I gasped at the expanse of it. I gazed across, but I couldn’t see the other side. The sky was wide, and the deepest blue I had ever seen, and the water was smooth as glass. The warm air was alive with insects. Very far out, a white bird glided across the surface then dived into its own reflection.
I leaned over the side of the boat and got a shock at the girl looking back at me. Her face was wide and brown, and her hair was so bright it might have been alight. Something disturbed the water and flames wavered around her head.
‘Enough looking,’ Eadie said. ‘This is where the work begins.’
She threw me the paddle. ‘We can’t expect to find a current that will take us upstream, although we might get some backflow if we stick near the shore.’
We began paddling steadily, Eadie in front and me behind, trying to keep in time with her strokes.
‘Your friend’s back,’ she remarked.
I looked behind us and saw a nose poking out of the water.
‘Sleek!’
I knew the sleek had ca
used me a lot of trouble but I was so pleased to see him that I laughed aloud.
The sleek ignored me. He swam alongside the boat with his eyes fixed straight ahead. It was as if we were fellow travellers who happened to be going in the same direction and nothing more.
THE HERB QUEEN
We paddled all day, keeping close to the riverbank. When we passed a row of upturned baskets at the water’s edge, Eadie paused for a moment.
‘Hives,’ she said. ‘I’m surprised they’re still here.’
The baskets were old and falling to pieces, but bees swarmed around them.
‘Olive made those,’ Eadie told me. ‘Back in the old days when marsh aunties came and went as they pleased. Ah, smell the air!’
She paddled on with long steady strokes. I was getting weary. In fact, I was so tired that I was just pretending to paddle. I wished we had a rope on the reed-boat, because if we did the sleek could give us a tow.
‘Fat chance,’ Eadie said. ‘But you can try if you like.’
She handed me a length of bindweed. I held one end and threw the other to the sleek, but he took no notice, and when I tried it a second time he grabbed the end and dived under the water so fast that he almost jerked me out of the boat.
‘Typical snide,’ Eadie said, as she kept paddling.
It was late afternoon when Eadie steered towards the bank and found a little beach.
‘We’ll camp here tonight,’ she said. ‘Where’s that fish Ebb gave you? It can be our dinner.’
She helped me out of the reed-boat and settled me on the soft sand. Together we made a fire, and when it was glowing warm Eadie pulled her knife out of her coat, scaled the fish and cleaned it. She tossed the guts into the water and the sleek caught them.
‘Guard it,’ she said, with a sharp glance at the sleek. ‘I’m going to get some sticks.’
There was no need to find sticks. There was plenty of driftwood on the little beach.
‘Not for the fire,’ she snapped. ‘For you. I can’t be carrying you around the country like a baby. You’ve got to take your own weight. That leg should be strong enough by tomorrow.’
