Storytelling Time: Hidden, Chapter 3

Excerpt from:

Hidden 

Genre: Epic Fantasy Mystery Romance

(c) Shereen Vedam

Chapter 3

“I’ll watch Tom,” Gilly said. “He’s in no condition to hurt anyone.”

“He’s also in no condition to travel,” Marton’s tone was gentler than Anna’s but dealt as devastating a blow. “You’re pretty swift on your own, Gilly, but he will delay us.”

“He can ride the stallion with the children until he’s well enough to walk.”

“He’ll be fine in this cowshed,” Anna said with finality.

Gilly’s fear thundered in her chest as an ominous choice loomed. In the village, she’d returned to save him. What was it about Tom that drew her so strongly to his defense?

With difficulty she spoke with what she hoped was a firm, calm, voice of reason. “I’ve given him willow bark tea to keep down his fever and to help him sleep, but his cuts and wounds need tending. We can’t leave him.”

“We don’t owe him anything.” Her sister sounded frustrated.

Calm gave way to uninhibited panic. “You owe him your life! I’m not saying he killed Vyan, but if Vyan hadn’t died, he would surely have told them about you being found as a baby. The Village Chief was not your friend.”

Anna looked at the village drunkard, her face a picture of bewilderment. “Why do you keep protecting him? He’s nothing to us.”

“You can’t always judge people by the way they look or act, Anna. Sometimes you need to look deeper, search beneath the surface.”

Her words choked in her throat as she realized she spoke as much on her own behalf as Tom’s. Over the years, it had hurt that her sister could not see past her labels of hermit, misfit, gimp. “He’s a person. Like you or me, he, too, is worthy of our respect and care. Especially during this moment of crisis.”

Anna bit her lip, looking taken aback.

“I’ve always liked Tom,” Marton’s soft-spoken voice was like water sprayed over flames. “If I had to pick who was more likely to have killed Vyan, I’d pick the Horsemen.”

Looking deep in thought, his wife rocked her son.

Gilly’s highly-strung tension dispersed and she breathed a sigh of relief.

“We need to decide on our route.” Marton moved the food items aside and smoothed the hard packed ground.

Gilly could hardly see the others let alone what he was up to. “We need light.”

He immediately grabbed for his pack. Despite having left on short notice, he had come prepared. Anna had picked a good man for her husband.

By the flickering glow of two candles, he roughly outlined the terrain between Nadym and Tibor, marking relevant cities. His methodical work and the calming scent of beeswax soon relieved the nervous energy in the shed. Everyone – except for Bevan, who was fast asleep – leaned forward to study the finished product. Large chunks remained unmarked, unknown.

Marton placed a candle closer on his left, near Anna. “That’s Nadym.”

He passed the other candle over to Gilly. “Set it in the top middle, for Perm.”

Once she positioned it, he said, “To reach Tibor, we must first travel northeast from Nadym to the mountain city of Perm.”

That journey alone seemed daunting.

“Once there, we’ll have to cross the Makakala range and then due east until we reach Tibor.” Bevan’s left sandal was confiscated as a marker for that coastal city beside Skye.

“Why can’t we cross the mountains in the south?” Anna asked.

“It’s impassable down here,” Marton explained. “I’ve also heard that on the other side of the Southern range, the land is covered in bogs that could swallow up horse and man. Even minstrels avoid those swamp lands.”

“But if we follow the trade route north, we must go alongside the Kocheya Basin.” With her forefinger, Gilly circled the vast desert region in the western center of Ryca. “There’s unlikely to be many stopover places once we pass the Steppes and head into the desert. Except for the children and Tom, we’ll be traveling for leagues on foot. It’s called the badlands for a good reason, Marton. It’s scorching hot and little life flourishes there, so replenishing our supplies will be difficult.”

“I once heard about a place in the basin called Erov, where there’s reputed to be plenty of food, ale and friendly folk,” Marton said in a whimsical tone. “Trouble is, it’s rumored to never be in the same place twice; vanishing and reappearing at will.”

“Oh.” Skye’s eyes lit up. “Can we go there?”

“That’s just a children’s tale,” Anna scoffed, drowning that foolish dream.

Gilly gently rubbed Skye’s back in consolation. “If we go too far into the badlands looking for a capricious, mythical city, we might run out of food and water and never make it out. If we must go to Tibor, I say we go east first, until we reach the base of the southern mountain range. Then we can gather supplies and, skirting the desert, head north to Perm.”

“I like that idea,” Marton said. “Our pursuers will be looking for us either on the western trade routes or heading south, toward other plains’ villages. This route is longer but safer.”

“When do we leave?” Anna asked.

“Not in the dark,” Marton said. “I’ll keep watch overnight. We should make sure we’re packed up first though. If I hear anything remotely like hoofbeats, we’ll run for it. You should all rest while you can. Even if the Horsemen don’t find us, we have a long trek ahead.”

“I’ll take watch turns with you,” Gilly said. “I’ll need to check on Tom.”

“Good.” Marton sounded relieved. Poor man looked as weary as the rest of them.

Gilly picked up a candle to check on Tom.

“Skye, go wash up by the stream before bed,” Anna said. “Watch your step in the dark.” Shutting the door behind her daughter, she came over to where Tom lay. “May I see his wounds?”

Gilly moved aside and held up the candle.

Anna leaned over, intently studying Tom’s back. The bandages were already blood-soaked and beginning to smell. “He needs stitches. He’s never going to live otherwise.”

The judgment was harsh but mirrored Gilly’s private fears. If those wounds were left untended, by morning, their argument about taking Tom along would be moot. “In my rush to leave, I forgot to pack my needles and threads.”

“Tom will need new bandages at least,” Anna said. “The bag Skye packed is outside. See if my sewing kit and the spare clothes are in it. I’ll watch him while you choose what you need. The bag is by a birch to the left of the shed. Take the other candle.”

“Thank you.” Gilly handed her light over to Anna and hurried outside with the spare one, feeling a warm glow at her sister’s unexpectedly kind gesture.

It had grown dark. Gilly had a hard time locating the birch. When she finally did, there was no sign of a bag.

Skye found her still searching. “What are you doing, Gilly?”

“Where’s the bag of clothes you packed?”

“It’s on the other side of the shed. I’ll get it.”

As the child raced off, Gilly’s her heart pounded with suspicion. Praying to the Light to keep Tom safe, she raced back to the shed. Please don’t let Anna have sent me on a goose chase so she could harm him.

At the shed, she softly opened the door. Anna’s candle was on the floor. It shone an eerie light upward, highlighting her sister’s intent face. Anna skimmed her hands over Tom’s back. Then Gilly realized why she could see her sister’s hands in the dark. Her sister’s palms glowed.

Suspicion transformed into stunned wonder. Anna drew on Light. The result looked different than when Gilly practiced the craft. It almost seemed as if the Light had become a part of Anna. Could this use of Light, done so intimately, be less traceable than when Gilly used it? She prayed it was so.

“Here you go.” Skye came up behind her with the bag of clothes.

Anna jerked backward, hiding her arms behind her back.

Gilly took the bag, her gaze trained on Anna.

Her sister wore a guilty expression. “You’re back. Good. I’m tired, so I’m turning in.” Avoiding Gilly’s searching gaze, she picked up her candle and walked over to where Bevan lay.

“Tom’s breathing isn’t as loud,” Skye whispered.

“You’d best turn in, too.” Gilly shooed her toward her mother. Slowly, holding up her candle, Gilly peeled back the bandages on Tom’s back. Every single one of his gaping wounds was in the process of closing. There were still a few slim, angry breaks but nothing like it had been earlier.

So, that’s why her sister hadn’t run away when Gilly used magic. She, too, could work Light.

My Anna is a healer.

How long had her sister known about her ability? Had she confessed to anyone? Knowing how the villagers felt about magic, she suspected Anna would have rarely used her talent, and then not told anyone, perhaps not even Marton.

She was doubly glad of her wards now. If Anna drew the Horsemen to them tonight, Gilly would be warned. Would it be in time to escape?

After tending to Tom, she, too, lay down beside her family and hugged herself. Somehow, despite the danger, finding out about Anna’s ability made her feel less lonely.

After two breaks to take her turn at watch, Gilly awoke at daybreak bleary eyed and anxious to leave. The quicker they sped from this cowherd’s shed, the happier she’d be.

Bevan rode the white stallion while Marton gently laid Tom behind him. Belly down and secured in place, he wouldn’t fall off. Everyone else took to the track on foot.

Skye, who’d never gone past the fields where Gilly grazed her goats, repeatedly brought over an unusual colored flower or a long-tailed scaly thing her mother refused to stroke no matter how hard Skye begged.

Gilly, used to solitude, was tempted to go on ahead, but she needed to warn her sister about the danger of arbitrarily using magic, even for as good a cause as helping Tom. As it was, her neck ached from continuously checking behind to see if that illegal draw on Light last night had set the Horsemen on their trail.

So far, the answer to that concern was a comforting, No. She had to warn Anna to be more careful though. Raising the taboo subject with her entire family within earshot was a problem.

The family traveled clustered together for several miles, fear acting like a corral. After a few hours, with no sign of active pursuit, Skye began to wander farther ahead, only to run back to report on her findings. When she dragged Marton to show him her latest discovery, Bevan slid off the horse to follow and the stallion took that moment of inattention to munch on grass.

Anna, too, stopped and bent to stretch her legs.

Gilly seized on her only opportunity since they left to be alone with her sister. “Anna, we must talk.”

“About what?”

“Magic.”

Anna met her gaze. “What about it?”

“While I appreciate what you did for Tom, never do it again.”

Anna’s gaze grew wary. “Because magic is evil?”

“Magic is not evil.”

“Then what is it?”

Other than the basics, Mam had said little about the forbidden art; probably afraid her little ones might be tempted to practice and thus draw the Horsemen to them. Most of what Gilly understood about magic, she had learned from watching what happened after she cast a spell.

“Few people can work Light, which is the source of all life,” Gilly said, starting at the basics. “There are two types of Light practice. High Magic draws power directly from the Light. The other is Hearth Magic, which is made up of minor spells. Anyone who has a bit of inherent talent, strong belief and after much practice can set warning wards. I do that often to alert me to intruders. Or to heal wounds or find water. Hearth Magic merely tweaks what’s already present in the natural world, it doesn’t transform it like High Magic,.”

“High Magic affects the world?”

“Yes, whenever I’ve cast a High Magic spell, everything around me changes.”

“How?”

“The land grows lush. Dead plants come back to life.”

“That doesn’t happen when I heal.”

“What you do is Hearth Magic, but on a grander scale than any I’ve witnessed. You didn’t just nudge a body’s healing process along; you healed Tom’s wounds. Also, for all that they decry use of magic, I believe the Horsemen, too, cast spells. Their enchantment scorches and burns the earth.” Gilly’s fists clenched. “Their magic doesn’t enhance the world, it destroys it.”

“That’s what caused the destruction around Nadym?” At Gilly's nod, she came closer. “When have you used High Magic, Gilly? Was it when you made those pigs, sheep and chickens scatter?”

“Yes.” There was a better example. Gilly’s stomach trembled at mentioning how Skye had almost died while in her care. It had to be done, though. Whatever the fallout with her sister, Anna must understand the consequences of using High Magic. “Yesterday, Skye tumbled off a cliff.”

“What?” Hands on her chest, Anna checked on Skye squatting on the ground examining something with Bevan and her father. The murderous light in her little sister’s eyes when she turned had Gilly stumbling backwards as she blurted out her story. “Skye was chasing a goat on the cliffs. Then she fell over and the branch of a dead tree she clung to cracked.”

Anna sucked in her breath and grabbed Gilly’s forearms. “What happened then?”

Gilly ignored the nails digging into her skin. “I cast a spell to stop her fall. Leaves gathered to cushion her, and bring her back up into my arms. Shortly after, the dead tree looked lush and alive. There is a terrible consequence to using High Magic, Anna. The Horsemen can trace its use. That’s why they arrived in Nadym moments after.”

Anna released her, leaving behind curved white dents along Gilly's arms where nails had dug in.

Oddly, Anna now seemed more thoughtful than furious. “So, the Horsemen can trace a High Magic user with speed, but not precision? And they can’t detect Hearth Magic at all?”

Gilly blinked in surprise at her sister’s quick and accurate assessment. This abrupt turn in conversation, however, brought them to the very point she wanted to make. “Thank you for what you did with Tom, but I’m unsure which category of magic it falls under, so you should avoid doing it again, just in case.”

“There weren’t any changes to the land around the cowherd’s shed. What I do might be as harmless as your wards.”

“With children nearby, can we take that chance?” Gilly asked.

Anna nodded. “You’re right. I’ve only ever healed little cuts and scratches before this. Tom’s wounds were severe and healing them left me exhausted. Afterwards, even though I was worried about the Horsemen, I slept like a baby. It’s possible the Horsemen sensed what I did but didn’t find us before we left. It’s too risky to heal again. I won’t do it. I promise. Let’s hope I won’t need to.”

Skye ran over then to show her mother a long-legged spider. “Mama, isn’t it pretty?”

Not daunted by the crawly insect, Anna pulled Skye into a tight hug. “It’s beautiful.”

The stallion’s clip clop drew Gilly’s gaze backward. Tom, draped over the horse, had been close enough to overhear her confession. His body was motionless though, suggesting he was asleep, or unconscious. She breathed a sigh of relief and rubbed her sore arms before facing her sister. There were tears in Anna’s eyes as she hugged Skye. For all their fighting, Anna adored her daughter.

Wanting to give mother and child privacy, Gilly pressed on. She had said her piece and, hard to believe, Anna had agreed with her concerns.

Before her third step, her sister called out. “Gilly!”

Should have known that agreement came too easily. Shoulders stiff and ready for the next blow, she turned back. “Yes?”

“Thank you.” Two words never sounded so heartfelt.

Gilly’s eyes stung and a glow warmed her chest as she nodded and left. She passed Marton and Bevan who were waiting for Anna and Skye. She avoided Marton’s curious gaze, and winked at Bevan. The boy gave a shy grin and ducked behind his father.

Once alone, Gilly hugged herself to contain her joy. It was happening. Anna is starting to like me.

*

Three days later, they camped by the foothills bordering the Kocheya Basin. Gilly took turn at watch. After a circuit to ensure her wards were active, she found a suitable log to rest on and stared at the third sister riding high over the desert in her half-moon form.

Although they planned to skirt this barren land, not delve into it, being this close to dunes raised goose bumps on Gilly’s arms. Having lived most of her life in rich pasturelands within walking distance to lakes and rivers, the idea of entering this vast wasteland terrified her as much as encountering King’s Horsemen. Surely not even the mythical, magical Erovians that Marton spoke of could survive deep in this parched landscape.

She was pondering the wisdom of their continued trek in the morning, when the hairs on the back of her neck tingled. Someone had triggered a ward. She jumped up and her left leg protested. High Magic might have strengthened her leg for awhile but the positive effect obviously didn't last long. In a rush to warn the others, she ignored that sharp stab of pain and limped through the brush.

She’d placed her wards about a hundred feet from the campsite, far enough she’d thought at the time, but now this intruder might be closer than that. She should have spread those warning charms farther out to give her family more time to flee.

She woke Marton first. He shook his wife awake and while Anna hid the children behind a large boulder, Gilly accompanied Marton to investigate the “noise” she had heard.

They left Tom lying on his stomach with a wool blanket covering him head to toe. If he were lucky, he would be taken for dead and left unharmed.

Up ahead, a horse nickered. A soft voice promised the animal a treat. Gilly and Marton crouched behind a wide bush. A few feet away, a man was brushing his horse. His cloak was black, not Horsemen green, though it was hard to be certain of in the semi-dark. The absence of sword was reassuring. He was also apparently alone.

“A scout?” Marton whispered.

“The doublet, hose and boots speak of a guild.”

He nodded. “Likely a traveling merchant.”

“Our luck he chose to camp so close to us.”

“I’ll approach and speak with him,” Marton said. “Best we know who he is.”

She placed a hand on his forearm. “Be careful. Anna will never forgive me if you are hurt.”

He nodded acknowledgement, gave a reassuring pat on her back and strode toward the stranger.

The two men spoke and Marton gestured toward their camp. He then waved Gilly over.

She stayed put. Had he lost his mind?

“Gilly,” he said. “Come. This is Cullen, a minstrel. He’s familiar with the territory we’re heading into.”

She leaned back on her heels, mouth agape. Had he told this intruder where they were going?

“Come,” he said again.

Now they’d done it. Their trip was surely cursed. First they were forced to go on the run, then they chose in all familial wisdom to go directly toward the very man they should be running from, and, now, Marton had taken a perfect stranger, who could very well be in King Ywen's employ, as a bosom friend. They might as well turn themselves over to the Horsemen now and save the agony of the hunt.

“Marton,” Anna said from behind her.

Her sister waved and sprinted toward them, all smiles, golden hair streaming behind her in waves. “Is he a friend?”

Of course, why bother to hide when it’s so much easier to get caught out in the open?

Skye crouched beside Gilly, Bevan a shadow in the darkness of his sister’s skirts. “I tried to stop her but she wouldn’t listen,” the young girl said. “She never listens.”

Gilly gave the children a comforting hug. “We’d best see what we can salvage from this. Keep your wits about you in case we need to save your parents from themselves.”

The children nodded and the trio slowly approached the stranger. He was a thin man of medium build, with what was left of his gray hair receding toward the crown. His clean narrow face had close-set eyes, which looked guarded under the moonlight. His hooked nose, like a vulture’s beak, shadowed thin lips that appeared a stranger to smiles. Hardly worthy of such trust at first meeting.

When she drew close enough, he switched his attention from saluting Anna to greeting Gilly.

“These are my children, Skye and Bevan,” her sister said, “and this is our servant, Gilly.”

Anna poked her in the ribs and gestured for her to take care of Cullen’s horse. Gilly gritted her teeth at that instruction but had no one to blame but herself. She was the one who shied from admitting they were sisters. The day for that talk would come soon enough.

Cullen took out a brush from his saddle and gave it to Gilly with a courtly bow. He believed her a servant but still treated her with respect. Her estimation of this stranger improved as he accompanied Anna to camp.

Skye pulled at Gilly’s sleeve.

Gilly was intent on Cullen’s retreat.

Skye tugged insistently at her sleeve.

Gilly pushed her away. “What, Skye? What’s so important it can’t wait for two breaths?”

“You sound like Mama,” Skye said. “I thought you were different. That you liked me.”

Gilly blinked in surprise. I snapped at Skye. Why? Absently, she corrected her niece. “Your Mam loves you.” She gave the girl a hug. “Come, help me brush this mount.”

The child nodded agreement.

The mare was hot and lathered as if from hard riding. Cullen must have been in a hurry. “Skye.”

“Yes, Gilly?”

“What do you think of this stranger?”

“He smiles only with his mouth,” her niece said. “Not his eyes.”

“Angry,” Bevan said.

How odd. Even odder was that the quiet child had spoken. “He didn’t look angry to me, Bevan. Are you sure?”

The little boy gave a solemn nod.

Gilly finished with the mare and then sat on the ground, calling the children to her.  She ripped a thread from the bottom of her skirt and tearing it in two, she tied one around each of the children’s ankles, moving their hose out of the way until the thread touched skin.  She mumbled a chant under her breath as she worked.  Her fingers tingled when they smoothed the thread down.

“It feels warm,” Skye said, touching it tentatively.

“Hot,” Bevan affirmed, pulling a face.

“It’ll cool in time.  Don’t take it off unless you tell me first.  It’s there to protect you against harmful magic.”

“Lissa says all magic is evil,” Skye said.

“Magic is like a hunter’s knife, Skye,” Gilly said.  “Treated with the right heat it can help heal an infected wound, or slice open a deeper one.  It depends on who wields it, and for what purpose. Now, return to camp. If you notice anything else odd about Cullen, come find me. Fast.”

With trepidation, she watched them leave. A dangerous task to give to little ones. She set off to strengthen her wards and spread them further out on the off chance their next visitors wore green capes and carried swords.

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