by Mark McCabe
Now here Sara and Rayne were, sizing up whether they should venture in themselves. The four cabins were at the centre of a few acres of cleared ground, the stumps scattered throughout the area and the split logs the cabins were made of testimony to the forest they had displaced. Sara and Rayne could easily have ridden around the settlement, but they were desperately low on provisions. As Rayne had foreshadowed, there’d been no time for them to hunt or cook over the last few days. Their supply of dried meat was almost exhausted and they were running very low on a number of other items. They decided the chance to restock was too good a one to miss. As long as they were careful, and got in and out with as little delay as possible, they should be all right.
“Okay, let’s get it over with,” said Rayne, urging Ned forward.
Easing their horses out into the open, they slowly walked them down towards the cabins, riding side by side as they discreetly scanned the area, alert for anything unexpected. They had both strung their bows and wore them slung across their shoulders. Rayne had strapped on his sword and had his knife openly sheathed at his waist, as did Sara. He’d assured her it would be best if anyone they encountered could see they were well armed.
As they moved closer to the buildings, the porch of the nearest and largest one came into view revealing two men seated in the sun with their chairs tilted back and their legs resting on the wooden railing that bordered the front of the dwelling. The slip rail corral at the back of the cabin and the large barrels that lined its side indicated this building was the store Rayne’s father had told him about. The three smaller dwellings appeared to be living quarters. One stood a small distance behind the large cabin. The other two faced it from the opposite side of the small watercourse that split the settlement in two. A small bridge made up of logs laid side by side and covered in dirt spanned the stream. As the store itself was built on a slope, its front was raised up on short pylons. A few stairs led up to the front porch.
As these were the first dwellings, other than Golkar’s home, which Sara had seen in Ilythia, she had no idea whether they were typical of how people lived. To her, they seemed to be ramshackle and desperately in need of repair. Although she’d never seen a shingle roof before, she was certain the shingles weren’t supposed to be jammed in at the oddest of angles, as many of these were. It looked as if some had slipped out and only the most perfunctory attempt had been made at repair.
Her attention was soon drawn back to the largest of the cabins. As they approached it, a dog lazily rose from the porch, walked down the steps, and ambled along the road towards them, hanging its head and slowly wagging its tail as it approached. One of the two men rose from his chair, opened the front door, and disappeared inside. The other stayed where he was, scrutinising them closely as they approached the cabin.
“Hello,” called Rayne as they drew up to the front of the store. As he dismounted, Sara followed his example, wondering if he was as nervous as she was. They both tied their horses to the hitching rail that ran along the front of the store and walked up the few stairs that led to the porch. The old man, as they could now see he was, had nodded in reply to Rayne’s greeting but had remained seated as they had dismounted and walked up to join him. He looked to be in his seventies or eighties. Thin wisps of silvery hair could be seen protruding from beneath his battered hat. The overalls he was wearing stopped short a few inches above his ankles, revealing the cracked and leathery skin of his lower legs. His leather boots looked almost as ancient as he did.
“We’d like to buy some provisions,” said Rayne.
“Well, I guess you come to the right place then,” said the old man slowly, rising from his chair with some difficulty as he spoke, then shuffling his way to the door. Rayne and Sara waited for him to open it then followed him inside.
If the exterior had presented a dismal appearance to Sara, then the interior did nothing to dispel this image. The cabin was poorly lit and the dirt-smeared windows did little to alleviate the situation. They seemed more of a hindrance than a help. All in all, this was not what Sara had expected. The musty cabin seemed more like a storeroom than a store to her mind. The place was crammed full of barrels and boxes of various sizes with an assortment of other goods stacked beside, behind and over them. Narrow corridors, formed by the high piles of goods, led off among the mess in a number of directions.
“Ya want some pig meat?” asked the old man, who had traversed the small open area adjacent to the door and opened a cupboard that appeared to contain a number of bundles swathed in wet cloths.
As Rayne walked over to join him, Sara glanced around at the junk that was stacked around the room. With a start, she noticed two men seated on chairs in the shadows to one side of the room. “Hello,” she said with a slight smile, trying not to show her surprise at seeing them there.
The men, both in their twenties, simply stared back at her, not even nodding in response. From their looks, they were brothers, or at least very close kin. The clothes they wore were dirty and they themselves looked in desperate need of a good wash. One wore a thick beard and the other sported a stubble of hair on his face as if he hadn’t shaved for a few days. Their straggly hair showed evidence of having been roughly hacked back to keep it off their ears and collars. As Sara looked at them, the bearded one, quite openly and deliberately, slowly looked her up and down. Sara remembered the look that Golkar had given her, and the thought made her shudder. She quickly turned back towards Rayne, not wanting them to see the flush of embarrassment she felt on her face.
As she moved closer to Rayne, she heard one of the men give a low chuckle and whisper something to his companion, who laughed in return. Sara sat down on one of the boxes on the opposite side of the room, positioning herself so she could see the two men in her peripheral vision while she watched what Rayne and the old man were doing.
“ . . . and some salt if you’ve got any,” she heard Rayne call out to the old man, who was scooping something from a barrel into a small sack at the rear of the room.
The old man grunted in reply. Placing the sack to one side he took a smaller cloth bag and began filling it from another container. While he busied himself doing this, Rayne turned and smiled at Sara. Without turning her head, she moved her eyes purposefully in the direction of the two younger men. Nonchalantly, Rayne turned and glanced around the room, obviously taking in the two men as he did so. He then turned back once more to the old man who had shuffled over to him with the two sacks.
Sara watched as the old man placed them on top of a box beside Rayne, alongside a cloth covered mound, which she took to be meat, and another smaller object wrapped in a thin gauze of cloth. She hoped that Rayne had obtained something more inviting than pig meat.
“How much for all that?” asked Rayne, taking a small bag of coins from his pocket.
“Well,” said the old man, his eyes fixed on the coin bag, “let’s see. There’s the oats, the meat . . . and the cheese . . . flour . . . salt . . . bread. That’ll be . . . I reckon that’ll be four of them silver pieces there and six of them coppers.”
Rayne counted out the coins from his bag. When that was not enough, he reached into his pocket and produced a few extra coppers. “There you go,” he said to the old man, placing the coins in his hand and pushing the now empty coin bag and his few remaining coppers back into his pocket. Sara was relieved that his estimation of the amount he would need had been accurate. He had hidden most of their money, rolling it up inside his bedroll, only leaving enough to cover what he needed to buy.
“Okay, Sara,” he said, picking up the goods from the top of the box and turning towards the door, “let’s go.”
The old man looked over at the other two men. “You there, Jape, you no good loafer. Go git two bags of oats from the back room and bring it round front.” One of the men reluctantly rose and headed for the back of the cabin, mumbling something to himself as he went.
While this was happening, Sara stood up and followed Rayne out through the door, noticing as
she went that the remaining man was still staring at her, eyeing her up and down as if she was a piece of meat. As they left, both he and the old man followed them out.
Rayne walked down to the horses and began stowing the fresh provisions into the saddlebags, distributing the extra weight among the two horses. While he did that, Sara stood casually to one side, discreetly keeping an eye on the two men who were now joined by their companion. The latter was carrying two large cloth bags, presumably full of oats.
“Did you say your girl’s name was Sara, fella?” asked the old man when Rayne had finished what he was doing.
Sara felt her blood run cold at the man’s query. Noticing that Rayne had shown no reaction to the question, she forced herself to walk slowly over to the horses and mount Nell. The man with the oats walked down to them, handing the bundles to Rayne who added them to his gear, tying one to each side of Ned’s saddle. Once he had done that, Rayne mounted Ned.
“What’s it to you?” answered Rayne once he was mounted. As he spoke Ned frisked around nervously, turning this way and that as Rayne held him in place with a tight grip on his rein. Sara could see that the man who had passed him the oats was looking closely at Ned’s flank as he twisted and turned in front of him.
“And would your name be Rayne?” asked the old man in his slow drawl, ignoring Rayne’s question.
“What if it is?” asked Rayne, steadying Ned and looking back intently at the old man.
Sara could feel the tension in the air. She wasn’t sure whether to be ready to put an arrow to her bow or to turn Nell and take flight. She watched Rayne closely, waiting for one of their prearranged signals. He had given no sign of using either as yet. While she waited and listened to the unexpected exchange, she wondered what could possibly be going on. She didn’t see how the old man could know what their names were. She had realised from his first question that Rayne had slipped and mentioned her name, but she had barely spoken at all herself. Even if Tug had somehow been here before them, there was no way for the old man to know Rayne’s name. And yet, impossibly, he did.
“Well, I reckon I know someone who’s wantin to meet up with ya, young fella,” said the old man. “An old fella come lookin for you and yer friend few days back now. Real old fella he was. Even older than me.” As he said this the old man gave a short cackle, exposing a few missing teeth. “Said he was yer uncle and askt if I seen ya.”
“Oh,” said Rayne. “Thanks for letting me know. If he comes back again tell him we’re heading up Thompson’s Swamp way. He might find us up there if he’s not far behind us.”
“Will do young fella, will do,” said the old man, shuffling back to his chair in the sun.
As Rayne turned Ned, ready to move away, the man who had been examining the horse spoke up. “That’s a right fine lookin mount you got there boy,” he said. “You had him long?”
“Thanks,” said Rayne. “Actually I bought him off of a trapper I met a few days back. My horse went lame and he offered to sell me this one. Well, thanks for your help. We’ll be off now.”
With that Rayne turned Ned and rode off, with Sara and Nell close behind. Sara noticed as he crossed the creek and headed for the tree line that the direction he took was different to the one they had planned. She guessed he was intending to carry through with his pretence of heading for Thompson’s Swamp, at least until he was out of sight.
Once they had cleared the tree line, Rayne risked a quick glance back over his shoulder. “They’re not following,” he said to Sara as she drew level with him. “Let’s get going, I didn’t like any of that at all.”
They rode on in silence then for some time. The path Rayne took led them single file, affording little opportunity for them to speak further, and it was some time before he finally stopped for a break. By then the settlement was a long way behind them. While the horses rested and cropped the grass nearby, he and Sara sat down on the ground and shared a drink from his water flask.
“What was that all about?” asked Sara. “It didn’t make sense. How could your uncle know my name and why didn’t you want him to know where we’re going?”
“I don’t have an uncle,” said Rayne. “Least none that I know about. I don’t get it, either. The only people who know your name wouldn’t know mine and anyone who knew mine wouldn’t know yours.”
Sara was totally thrown by this new development. She could see no explanation for what the old man had said. “What can it possibly mean?” she asked Rayne.
“Maybe it’s Golkar,” he replied. “Maybe he has some way with his magic of knowing that you’re with me.”
Sara shook her head. The description the old man had given didn’t fit Golkar at all. “Golkar’s not old,” she said. “He looked fairly young to me.”
“According to my dad, he’s centuries old. All the wizards are. I don’t see who else it could be.”
Sara still wasn’t convinced. “I don’t think so,” she said. “If Golkar could chase after us himself, why would he bother sending Tug and his men?”
“I don’t know,” Rayne replied in a tired voice, hanging his head and looking at the ground. “It’s great isn’t it? Just when we think things are really bad, we find out we’ve got someone else looking for us as well. Then, to add to our troubles, that young guy back there starts looking at Ned as if he knows he isn’t my horse. I wouldn’t mind betting he recognised the brand. I should have thought about that. Next thing they’ll be after us as well.”
Rayne leaned back and sighed, running his fingers through his hair, from his forehead to the nape of his neck. Sara could tell the strain was getting to him.
“Hey, c’mon,” she said leaning towards him and placing an arm around his shoulder. “Now who’s giving up. They haven’t got us yet. Remember, it ain’t over till the fat lady sings.”
“What?” said Rayne looking up with a grin. “It ain’t over till what?”
“Never mind,” said Sara. “It’s a long story. It just means it isn’t over till it’s over.”
“But what’s a fat lady singing got to do with it?”
“I’m not really sure, actually.”
Rayne’s concerns gradually dissipated as the day wore on and they slowly settled back into the routine they had established over the past few days. Despite the absence of any sign of pursuit, they still did their best to make their trail a difficult one to follow. Occasionally they would stop and Rayne would go back over their path for some distance, doing his best to remove any sign of their passage. Wherever they could they followed watercourses, entering at one point and emerging some distance away either up or downstream. If there were wide expanses of rock, they would ride over those.
By nightfall, they were exhausted. Their supper was better than they had had for some days. The fresh bread and cheese was a gratifying substitute for their usual fare of dried stringy meat and stale roots dug up along the trail some days past. Nell and Ned even got their share with some oats in a nosebag for each of them. Rayne said he would have to ration it out for them, supplementing their diet whenever they couldn’t get good pasturage.
They called it an early night after that, wanting to push on again at first light the next day. As Rayne had suggested, they had taken to sleeping in turns. Sara drew first watch and it wasn’t long before Rayne was fast asleep. She sat down beside him with her back propped up against a tree. The crescent moon was out in force again, lighting up the campsite with its soft, silvery light. Occasionally a cloud would scud across its path, darkening the sky for a short time until it moved on.
Leaning back against the rough bark of the tree, Sara found herself cycling through the three subjects that always seemed to dominate her thoughts, home and how much she missed all of her friends and her family, Tug and Golkar and all of the dread she felt about them, and Rayne. She tended to dwell more on the latter if she could. The other two tended to depress her and had an unfortunate knack of forcing themselves back into her consciousness when she least wanted them to. Her though
ts of Rayne, though childish daydreams, were a welcome escape from the fears and concerns she knew would return the next day.
As she had no watch to guide her, the moon was her timepiece. They had agreed that when it set for the night she would wake Rayne and it would be her turn to sleep and his to keep watch. Not that she really knew what she was watching for. Despite the moonlight, she was sure someone could creep up very close to their camp without her realising they were there.
Rayne had said that, although that might be true, at least they wouldn’t wake up with knives at their throats. He had gone on to point out, rather unnecessarily she thought, that in fact, it would only be her that woke up with a blade at her throat. He wouldn’t wake at all. No doubt the blade for him would be buried in his back. Although that had shocked her, he had made his point. At least someone awake could alert the other and give them some chance.
The night was well advanced when finally the position of the moon close to the horizon told Sara it would soon be time to wake Rayne. She decided to creep off into the bushes and relieve her bladder before she awoke him, allowing him a few precious extra moments of sleep before it was his turn to keep watch. It wasn’t the first time she had done so while he slept. She always made sure that she didn’t go far, just enough to ensure her privacy should he wake unexpectedly. Stealthily she rose, picked up her bow and quiver dutifully as Rayne had told her to do, and crept off through the bushes, moving slowly and carefully to ensure she didn’t disturb him.
When she had gone not much more than a score of paces from the campsite, she put down the bow. Slipping out of her trousers, she squatted down in a space between two trees. In a few moments, she was done. Silently standing and dressing again, she started to head back to the camp only to freeze in mid-step as she heard a sound off through the trees to her left. It sounded like voices. She had to be wrong, she told herself. She had learnt that the forest could produce the strangest of noises in the dark of the night and she had given up trying to work out the source of most of them.
