Zypheria's Call (A Tanyth Fairport Adventure)

by Nathan Lowell

  They went on like that for a mile or two. Tanyth easily kept pace with the plodding draft horses, her staff striking the earth on every other step, striking sparks now and again on bits of rock. She found herself lulled into the rhythm of it, her body moving her as it had for season after season. The weight of the cast swinging on her arm felt good after being caught in the sling for so long, a counter weight to the heft of the staff in her right hand. The steady movements set her mind free to wander in ways that it hadn’t while riding on the hard, wooden seat.

  Dark green spruces began to hug the road’s shoulders and occasionally a grouse flushed from the verge, wings whirring loudly as it disappeared between the trunks of the trees. Once a deer stood just inside the forest, stalk still and watching as they paraded by.

  “Did you see that?” Frank asked after they’d passed, his voice low against the cloppity-clop of the horses’ shoes.

  “Is that unusual?”

  “Not normal for them to stand still like that, but it happens once in a while. Usually I see ’em bouncing across the Pike when I come around a bend in the morning or late in the afternoon.”

  Tanyth looked up at him, his sun-seamed face alight with the excitement of seeing the buck watching them. “You love this, don’t you?”

  He glanced down and Tanyth saw the truth in his eyes. “Sometimes I think I was born on a wagon’s seat.” He paused to scan the road ahead and cast a quick glance over his shoulder to the path behind. “At least I get to sit up a bit and look out over everythin’,” he said.

  Tanyth cocked an eyebrow at him. “Sit up a bit?”

  Frank nodded. “Yeah. Take the team, fer instance.”

  Tanyth glanced at the six heavy horses but then back at Frank. “What about ’em?”

  “Well, the two in front have it pretty good.”

  “You mean the dust and all?”

  Frank rolled a shoulder in a shrug, and Tanyth saw the twinkle in his eye.

  “Well, that, too, but I was thinkin’ about the scenery. Up here I get to see all around. Lead horses get to take in the view.”

  She chuckled a little then. “View must get kinda boring for the rest of the team,” she said.

  Frank nodded. “Yep. Every day, all day, starin’ at the same horse’s behind.”

  Tanyth, from her vantage at ground level had to admit the wisdom of his observation. “But you stare at all six.”

  He nodded and screwed his mouth into a wry smile. “Why do ya think I don’t travel with a mirror for shavin’?”

  She glanced up at him. “Why?”

  “So I don’t make it seven,” he said, his eyes fixed straight ahead.

  Tanyth laughed and the sound of it fell like bells on the still morning air.

  Just ahead, where the dark spruces spread branches nearly into the road, a man stepped into view from around the bole of a tree. “Well, ain’t that sweet,” he said. He slouched and stuffed his hands in his pockets. The pommel of a sword gleamed in the shadow.

  The team flinched away from the sudden movement. “Easy there,” Frank said and pulled the team back in line.

  Ahead, three more men stepped out of the woods and formed a rough line across the Pike. Their rough leather vests, homespun shirts and trousers looked stained and dirty even from where Tanyth stood.

  “You’ll wanna stop that team a’fore you get to the boys, there,” the man said.

  “Or?” Frank asked.

  “Or they’ll stop ’em for ya.” The man gave a nod in the direction of the men and a fourth stepped out of the woods and drew a bow. “Be a shame to waste fine animals like that ’cause you were stupid, now wouldn’ it?”

  Frank pulled in on the reins and put a foot on the brake to stop the wagon. He turned to the bandit. “What is it you want, exactly? I’m not carryin’ any money.”

  “Well, for a start, you got a nice team. We’ll take them. Then there’s the wagon.” He stretched his neck up as if to survey the contents. “And you got somethin’ in them barrels? Could be somethin’ we can use? Or sell. Don’t matter.”

  Frank and Tanyth shared a glance. Tanyth saw something like an apology in his face that she didn’t understand.

  “All right,” he said. “Let us just get our gear...”

  The man guffawed. “Well, that was a lot easier than I expected.” He turned to the brigands standing in the path who joined him in rough laughter. The bowman lowered his bow, but kept the arrow knocked. “Don’t ya wanna fight a lil about it? You just gonna hand over them horses and cargo and all?”

  Frank shrugged. “Not my team. I’m just the driver. Wagons can be replaced. So can horses.”

  “Well, if ya gonna be all reasonable, what’ll we do for sport?” the man asked. “How d’ya feel about your woman, here? Can you replace her?”

  Something clicked over in Frank’s expression and Tanyth saw his hands tense on the traces. “You got no cause to worry an ole lady like that,” Frank said, his voice under as tight a rein as the team in front of him. “Let’s just keep this civil and there’s no need for anybody to get hurt.”

  The men laughed again.

  “Who’s gonna drive this, then?” Frank asked, looking at the ruffian. “You? You ever drive a six-horse team?”

  The man shook his head, still grinning. “You just tie them reins off and jump down like a good fella, huh? We’ll talk about who’s gonna drive afterward.”

  Tanyth leaned on her staff, feeling the connection of the wood to the iron at its foot and the ground beneath. She felt the earth under her, felt the trees like a dark cloud gathering before a storm. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Frank,” she said.

  The man turned his attention to her. “You don’t think it’s a good idea? Frank? She doesn’t think that’s a good idea.” His mirth spilled over to his men who nudged each other and grinned in response. “And what are you gonna do about it then?” he asked taking a step toward Tanyth.

  Tanyth held her ground, twisting her staff and hearing the iron grind against the gravel under her feet. The sun beat down on her back where the roadway’s broad slash through the forest let the midday heat in. She shook her head but didn’t speak, wasn’t sure she could speak.

  “Tanyth?” Frank said, his voice low. “We can replace the horses.”

  She shook her head again without looking up.

  “No? She says ‘no,’ Frank,” the bandit leader said. “You can’t replace the horses?”

  She bared her teeth in an expression that might have been mistaken for a smile. “We might,” she said. “But you’re not gonna let us live.”

  The man’s expression of jolly-good-cheer melted off his face to be replaced with something sly, more vicious. “Now, why would we want to harm the likes of you two old people? We respects our elders, don’t we boys?” The man spoke half over his shoulder to his men and took another step toward Tanyth.

  “Tanyth.” Frank’s voice held a warning.

  Tanyth shook her head. “No, you don’t. Maybe you should.”

  Humor broke across his face again and he smiled broadly. “Well, the old bat’s got some spine,” he said and looked up to Frank. “That where you keep your backbone, old timer? She keep it for ya?”

  The horses pranced in the traces, unused to being held to rein and uneasy about the strange men around them. Even they felt the menace that Tanyth saw sliding off their oily faces and pooling around them on the ground like some greasy fog.

  “Tanyth,” Frank said, “we don’t need to fight them.”

  Tanyth heard the unease in his voice. “They’re not going to let us walk away, Frank. Look at ’em.”

  The bowman stood with an arrow nocked and the bandits in the road loosened their swords. The leader’s face broke into a snarl. “Aw, and we was just gettin’ to know each other. We coulda had a lil fun. Now you gotta go and spoil it all.” He took another step toward Tanyth and glanced over his shoulder. “Ethan?”

  The bowman lifted his weapon and drew a long shaft
back to his ear.

  Tanyth saw the point rise and knew that the target was no longer the lead horse.

  “Frank,” she said.

  “I see it,” he muttered.

  “Now, why don’t you two old farts be reasonable about this?” the leader said, a storm cloud on his face. “We can make it easy on you. No need to suffer. We’ll even give you a nice burial in the woods after. Won’t we, boys?” His voice took on a steel edge and he took another step toward Tanyth. “Now, do you wanna be reasonable? Or do you wanna watch Ethan here put a shaft through your man’s shoulder so he can bleed to death watchin’ us have our sport with you, huh? What ya say?”

  Tanyth glanced at the bowman, measuring the distance and angles with her eyes. She pulled in a breath—redolent with spruce, warmed by the sun, dry as the dust on the road—and turned her gaze back to the leader. It was not a look of surrender she gave him.

  “He’s not that good,” she said, her voice a low growl.

  A look of surprise flashed across the man’s grimy face. “You’re a bettin’ woman, I see,” he said, amusement and something like scorn in his tone. “You bettin’ your life he can’t hit from there?”

  Tanyth shook her head. “No, I’m bettin’ Frank’s.”

  The man scoffed. “And what makes you so sure?”

  Tanyth ground her staff down into the soil, feeling the power swelling under her feet. “It’s a long shot and he’s not accounted for the wind.”

  The bandit looked confused for a moment, his eyes casting up to the tree tops. “What wind?”

  A soft fluttering sound ended with a meaty thunk and a cry. The man looked to see his bowman down in the dirt of the road, bow beside him and an arrow sticking out of his thigh.

  “The wind an arrow makes in flight,” Tanyth said.

  When the bandit turned to look at her, he met the iron end of her staff as she swung from the ground, staff pivoting in her good hand and propelled by the power behind the cast on her left. The strength of her swing took him over and laid him out in the weeds with barely a grunt before the surprised look faded from his face and the light went out in his eyes.

  Rebecca stepped out of the woods, arrow nocked and ready. With her tenor voice she said, “Anybody else want a shaft?”

  The bandits all held hands well clear of their sword hilts and backed away.

  Frank held down a hand for Tanyth. She tossed her staff into the wagon’s bed and scrambled up to the seat beside him. Her legs turned to rubber and darkness clouded her vision, reducing her view to a tunnel.

  “Gi’up, there,” Frank said and flicked the reins.

  The restive horses stepped out with a will and the sound of horses’ hooves and iron wheels was the only noise besides the wounded man’s whimpers. Even the birds had stopped chirping.

  Rebecca released the tension on her bow and vaulted into the bed of the wagon as it came up to her, standing tall, leaning her hips on the barrels for balance against the unevenness of the road to watch the cowed men.

  “What about him?” one asked pointing to the wounded man.

  “What about him?” Tanyth called back.

  “You’ll live to regret this!” another man shouted.

  “I already regret it,” Tanyth said. “I hate havin’ to kill a man before lunch. It puts me off my feed.”

  The men looked startled and after a few furtive glances for the departing wagon, scuttled across the road. Tanyth watched them examine the body, and then one man stood and stared after them, a look that might have been disbelief on his face. The wagon eased around the next bend and the heavy, green trees blocked the view.

  Rebecca blew out a breath and clambered over the seat to settle beside Tanyth. She looked back and forth between Tanyth and Frank. “You both all right?”

  Frank shook his head. “She’s not.”

  “Tanyth?” Rebecca took Tanyth’s slack hand in hers and stared into her face. “What’s the matter?”

  Tanyth took a breath, savoring the flavor of the warm, dusty air and the warm scent of horse. The darkness stopped creeping across her vision. “I’m all right,” she said. “Just a lil weak right now.”

  Frank snorted. “A lil weak, she says.”

  “What is it?” Rebecca asked.

  Frank glanced down at the two women and cast a glance over his shoulder behind them before answering. “Fool woman been sayin’ prayers again.”

  “I never said a word,” Tanyth said. “Not a word.”

  Frank snorted and shook his head. “Well, I was prayin’ as hard as I could. I figured you’d be prayin’, too.”

  Tanyth smiled up at his worried face. “I didn’t have time for prayers. I was just hopin’ that Rebecca wouldn’t get caught.”

  Frank nodded and smiled at the young woman. “Good shootin’, by the way.”

  She scoffed. “I hit his leg.”

  “From what? A hundred yards?”

  She shook her head. “Maybe fifty. And I was aimin’ for his eye.” She grinned. “Thomas always says I shoot low.” She spared a glance for the road behind. “Think they’ll come after us?”

  Frank twisted his head to look himself. “Naw. They lost the brains of the outfit, such as he was. And they’ll have to deal with the wounded guy. That’ll slow ’em down.”

  Tanyth’s breath started to come a little easier as they rolled along.

  “Think they’ll report us for attackin’ ’em?” Rebecca asked after a few moments.

  Frank shot her a look. “They attacked us.”

  She shrugged in return. “Our word against theirs.”

  Tanyth chuckled.

  “What’s so funny, old woman? You scared me nearly to death back there.”

  Tanyth reached up to stroke his leathery cheek. It felt almost hot to her touch. “I was so afraid they’d kill you,” she said, her voice barely audible over the clop and crunch of travel.

  He nuzzled her hand. “And I was sure he was gonna grab you and put a knife in you while I was tangled up in reins, but what’s so funny?”

  “Well, what are they gonna say?”

  Rebecca and Frank shared a look of puzzlement.

  Rebecca shrugged. “I still don’t get it.”

  “Can you see them walking into town and saying ’we got attacked by two old fogies in a lorry wagon. The old woman bashed Joe’s head in with a walking stick and some kid with a bow wounded...’ what was his name? Ethan?”

  Frank nodded. “Yeah, I think so.”

  “Some bandits if two old farts and a kid can best five of ’em,” Tanyth said. “You think they’re gonna admit that?”

  Rebecca laughed at that, but Frank didn’t look that convinced.

  “You think they’re gonna cause you trouble on the return trip?” Tanyth asked.

  He freed a hand to scratch his chin. “Prob’ly not. By the time I get back here, they’ll mos’ likely be long gone.” He glanced behind them again. “Still, when we get to Foxrun, we should probably let ’em know at the way station there.”

  “What if they’re from Foxrun?” Tanyth asked.

  Frank took a deep breath and then blew it out through his nose. “Yeah. That’s what I’m worried about.”

  Chapter Nine:

  Foxrun

  Long before she saw the village, Tanyth smelled the smoke and the sour aroma of people. She wrinkled her nose at the scent.

  “Should be Foxrun,” Frank said. “Musta had a rough winter.”

  Tanyth looked up to see him looking down at her, concern in his eyes. “I’m all right.” She stirred herself on the seat and rubbed some of the dust out of her eyes. “Just needed to rest a bit. Guess I’m not used to walkin’.”

  She saw Frank and Rebecca share a glance over her head, but before she could ask about it, the wagon rounded a shallow bend and she saw the source of the smell. A collection of buildings huddled around a crossroad. What should have been the town square was an unremarkable intersection of roads on either side of the hard packed Pike. On the fa
r side of the crossroad, a coach pulled out of the waystation’s yard and thundered northward, disappearing in a cloud of dust that slowly settled in its wake. The driver looked like the same one that had passed them earlier on the road.

  “Foxrun,” Frank announced. “Mind your purse and keep your valuables hidden.”

  Rebecca laughed at his off-hand tone. “Is it really that bad?”

  He cast her a sidelong glance but rolled one shoulder in a shrug. “There’s worse, but it’s always a good idea to keep your eyes open when travelin’.”

  “I was expectin’ somethin’ more...prosperous,” Tanyth said, eyeing the ramshackle collection of hovels.

  Frank’s eyes narrowed as he surveyed the village. “Somethin’ ain’t exactly right.”

  “What’s wrong, Frank?” Rebecca asked.

  “Not sure. Inn here brings in money. They gen’rally do a good custom. Tap room serves a fair pint.”

  “This don’t look like a prosperous town,” Tanyth said. “Not the best of times?”

  Frank shook his head slowly from side to side. “I been drivin’ this road for five summers now. That was the first time I ever been threatened.” He paused to glance over his shoulder at the road behind. “That wasn’t somethin’ I expected, so no, not the best of times.”

  Rebecca said, “First Birchwood. Now them? What’s next?”

  Frank shrugged again. “Dunno, but maybe Rupert’s got some ideas.”

  “Rupert?” Tanyth asked.

  Frank nodded, jerking his chin at a squat, solid-looking building beside the Pike on the other side of the crossroad. “Rupert Peabury. He runs the way station here. Good man with the animals. Keeps his eyes open, his mouth closed, and his ear to the ground.”

  “Sounds uncomfortable,” Tanyth muttered.

  Frank huffed a short laugh and Rebecca smiled.

  As the wagon rolled by the village, Tanyth saw big-eyed children peaking out of darkened doors. In one hut, a woman pulled the child out of the open door and back out of sight before closing the door. Here and there a chicken scratched and pecked in the dirt. Early summer weeds had taken hold and grew wherever careless feet hadn’t trampled them. The place was quiet enough that Tanyth heard the occasional grunt of a pig somewhere on the backside of the village even over the sounds of the wagon.