Tales of the Archer: A Corthan Companion Page 9

  CHAPTER 14

  If Reid thought the illness was done with him, he was much mistaken. The fever returned on and off, each time forcing a return to his cot. Connor had the same. Between the two of them, they managed to help Brigga with Tarhill who had become delirious and Maclan who still had not waked. The rest of the time, the two boys helped Ealea, Ingrid, and Bradan, going house to house with medicine, food, and news.

  Of the five Seal men who went south, two had died and two more were not expected to survive. Reid hadn’t seen Gilland since the travelers’ return. Gossip claimed that he and his handlers were holed up at the pens, keeping their distance from the sickness. Of the clan, at least half of the families had someone who was sick. Aedan and his sister had been struck hard, losing their father. Ruari’s family was hard-pressed as well with not a single child spared from the sickness. Thankfully, the toddler fared better than any and was quickly on his feet again.

  Reid itched to see Maura, but time and his weakness did not allow it. Ealea gave him updates daily with sympathetic eyes. Her dulcet voice had a way of making even the worst news sound hopeful.

  Until Maclan’s tremors started.

  At first, Brigga said it was shaking chills, nothing more. Ingrid’s stern frown as she left their hearth that day told Reid otherwise. Once the Trembling started, there was no hope.

  With the impending loss of his brother, Reid could wait no longer to see Maura. Once Connor began to snore and Brigga slumped in the chair between her husband and son, Reid slipped out the door and through the quiet clan to Maura’s house. Not sure what kind of welcome he could expect from Bradan in the middle of the night, Reid went around to her shuttered window.

  A low, golden light and blue wisps of smoke seeped through the slats. His soft taps brought no reply, sending dread coursing through him. Shaky, he slid a knife between the shutters to raise the latch. Pushing the window gently open, he could see Maura lying in bed, her head pillowed on her arm. The chestnut waves of her hair tumbled about her flushed face. He crawled in through the small opening, choking on the heavy scent of burning herbs.

  “You have the manners of a thief,” Maura said, startling him. Her voice was thin.

  He tried to keep the concern from his face as he turned around. “Ah, I am caught. But tell me, lady, do thieves have good manners or bad?”

  She chuckled weakly, then coughed like beach full of seals. He filled a cup with water and offered it to her with a princely flourish.

  Taking it with a regal nod, she sipped it and said, “Thief or bard, your manners are acceptable, Mr. Tarhill.”

  “Shall I sit a while then?” He dropped onto the stool near her bed without waiting for an answer.

  The smile that greeted him was lopsided and weak but genuine. “What are you doing here?” she asked, leaning tiredly against the wall.

  “I heard rumors that you were shirking your duties.”

  “And what if I am?”

  “Then I shall scold you, set you straight.”

  She snorted with humor. “A scolding, huh? You think that will work?”

  He turned serious. “I would do anything to make you better.”

  She sighed and looked up at the ceiling. “I do feel terrible about leaving all the work to Mother and Ingrid.”

  Reid placed a soft hand over hers which made her lips curve up. “Don’t worry,” he said. “Connor and I are helping out.”

  “You shouldn’t be here you know.”

  “I couldn’t stay away,” he said.

  “I’m glad you couldn’t.” She threaded her fingers through his. “As long as you’re here, you could… tell me a story.” She slid him a mischievous sideways glance.

  “As my lady requests.”

  “The soldier and the mouse, the one you didn’t finish.”

  “Iyilik and Piruz?”

  She nodded.

  “Let’s see,” he said, “where did we leave them? Oh yes. They followed the road to a town, if I’m not mistaken.”

  She nodded and settled more comfortably into her pillows.

  “Yes, I remember now. It was a very prosperous town. As the sun set, the bells of the town rang out and trumpets blared and everyone began moving toward the lord’s manor. Iyilik drew his hood tighter and fell in with the throng. When they came to the large courtyard of the stately manor, there stood three fine young men facing a wide set of stairs. On those stairs leading to the main house was a throne. On the throne sat a very large, well-dressed man. He wore the finest clothes Iyilik had seen since leaving his own father’s house.

  “‘Who desires one of my daughters?’ The lord asked in a big voice that boomed off the stones of the manor.

  “One of the lads stepped forward. ‘I do.’

  “The lord steepled his fingers, staring down with all the weight of his office. ‘Tell me, which daughter do you seek?’

  “‘I wish to marry your most beautiful daughter.’

  “‘Very well. Show me her token,’ the lord said.

  “The young man was confused. ‘Token?’

  “‘If you seek one of my daughters, you must have obtained a token from her showing that she agrees to it.’

  “‘But sir, no one sees your daughters. How could I—’

  “‘That is part of the test. If you have no token, then go away.’

  “The young man turned dejectedly and left the courtyard. The lord’s voice rang out again. ‘Does anyone else desire one of my daughters?’

  “‘I do,’ said the next lad.

  “The lord stared down, ‘Which daughter do you seek?’

  “‘I wish to court your most intelligent daughter,’ he said.

  “‘Very well. Show me her token,’ the lord said.

  “The young man pulled a slightly bedraggled pink rose from his pocket.

  “‘No,’ the lord smiled. ‘No. That rose belongs to a different daughter.’

  “‘But she is surely the smartest woman—.’

  “‘If you don’t know her correct title, you cannot court her,’ the lord said with some relief. ‘Begone.’

  “He looked to the last man. ‘Tell me, which daughter do you seek?’

  “‘I wish to court your ill-tempered daughter,’ he said, which sounded odd to Iyilik.

  “The lord nodded. ‘Her token?’

  “The man drew a sprig of lavender from his coat and held it up.

  “The lord frowned. ‘You have earned the right to try for her. Your quest is to defeat my finest knight in battle.’ A mountain of a man with a wicked-looking morning star stepped forward and the crowd gasped. As the young man took the sword provided for him, it was obvious to Iyilik that the youth had no skill. Even so, he watched the match carefully. The soldier beat the boy bloody, stopping just short of killing him.

  “‘You have failed,’ the lord said finally stopping the match. ‘Now begone from my house. We are done here.’ He rose from his throne and walked into his house.

  “That night, Iyilik and Piruz bedded down behind the stables. ‘You must try for the kind-eyed girl,’ Piruz squeaked eagerly.

  “Iyilik shook his head. ‘I don’t know her title.’

  “‘But you have the token,’ said the mouse, tapping the lily tucked in the hood, ‘which means she gave you permission.’

  “‘But she never saw my face,’ Iyilik said trying to tamp down the hope in his heart.

  “‘Your face is not as bad as you think and you would still have to beat the guard,’ said Piruz. ‘Let me go to her. I will find out her name. You deserve a chance.’

  “Though Iyilik argued it would be dangerous, Piruz would hear nothing more and scurried away into the night.

  “‘When Piruz found the lord’s daughters, they were all getting ready for bed. He kept hidden until he found the girl with hair like red honey and eyes as blue as a lake. She gasped when she saw him and he feared she would raise an alarm. So he did his somersaults for her as he had on the road and again she giggled with delight. She put him n
ear her pillow as the other daughters all tucked in for the night. The mouse and girl whispered to each other in the darkness. He told her about the soldier, delighting her with tales of his life and their travels. In return, she gave him her name and told him that indeed the lily was her token.

  “Piruz left the kindly daughter with a whiskery kiss and scurried back to the stables where the soldier was sleeping.

  “The next day at sunset, again the bells tolled and the trumpets called. Again, a crowd gathered before the manor.

  “‘Who desires one of my daughters?’ the lord asked in his big booming voice.

  “Iyilik stepped forward, his hood pulled low over his face. ‘I do,’ he proclaimed in a loud, steady voice.

  “The lord frowned and leaned forward. ‘Remove your hood.’

  “‘Don’t you want to know which daughter I seek?’ Iyilik asked.

  “‘I will not give any of my daughters to a criminal.’

  “‘I am not a criminal and you shall see my face—in time.’

  “The lord was shocked, then angry. ‘You will pay for your insolence when I deem you unworthy. But for now, I will play your game, mongrel. Which daughter do you seek?’

  “‘I wish to marry your ugly daughter.’ The crowd gasped at the moniker, and the lord went pale.

  “‘I have no ugly daughter,’ he sneered.

  “‘Indeed, you do not, my lord. But one of them has been given that name were anyone to ask.’

  “‘You impudent beggar!’

  “‘Perhaps you’d rather I request her by her real name.’ Murmurs swelled in the crowd for never had anyone spoken to the lord like that.

  “The lord stood trembling with rage. ‘Ask how you like, you do not have her token,’ he said. ‘You cannot.’

  “Iyilik said nothing as he pulled the lily from his hood.

  “Lord Kel-Bhasur went pale with shock. ‘Show your face, villain.’

  “‘I prefer to show my face only to your daughter.’

  “‘You will never win her,’ the lord said.

  “‘That remains to be seen. Bring on your finest knight,’ Iyilik said.

  “‘Oh no,’ the lord said, his smooth voice laden with dangerous undercurrents. ‘You will not fight my knight as you so obviously planned. I have a different quest in mind for you.’”

  Reid paused, watching Maura’s sleepy breathing. Then he stood and slid her gently back down under her blankets and tucked her in like a child.

  She roused at the movement. “Wait, the quest. Tell me.”

  “That can wait for another night, my dear one.”

  She pouted and grabbed his arm. “You must promise to come back tomorrow and tell me.”

  He leaned over to kiss her head. “I promise to come back every night to tell you stories until you beg me to stop.”

  Her hand slid off his arm as she fell back to sleep saying, “That I will never do.”

  CHAPTER 15

  Reid awoke with the feeling that something was missing. He sat up and examined the room. The sun was too high for the house to be so quiet. He scrambled out of his bed, checking the house in anxious haste.

  Maclan’s bed was empty and his mother was gone.

  Had Mac died in the night and no one told him?

  For a change, Tarhill slept quietly while Connor snored from beneath his furs. Reid couldn’t remember if he had seen Maclan in the house when he’d stumbled to bed after visiting Maura.

  Without waking the others, he dressed and went outside, scouring the gardens and outbuildings and found nothing. As he hurried toward the hall, he met Ingrid coming up the path.

  “Where is your mother?” she asked, a frown creasing her wrinkled brow.

  “I thought she might be with you.”

  Ingrid’s face went still with concern. “Brigga, you foolish girl, what are you up to?” she whispered to the air.

  The familiarity in her tone reminded him how little he knew about his mother.

  “Wake your brother,” Ingrid said. “We need to find her.”

  “Mac was gone, too,” he added.

  “Maclan’s gone?” Ingrid paled. “Hurry! Get Connor and meet me at the statue.” She shoved him toward his house. “Now, boy!” Then, she lifted her skirts and ran toward Bradan’s house.

  Reid had never seen Ingrid move faster than a walk before. Her haste infected him and he raced home. Bursting through the front door, he shook Connor awake, threw boots at him and begged him to hurry. They sprinted to the stone bear that stood at the fork in the stream.

  They beat Ingrid to Borran’s statue and there, at the foot of it, lay Brigga and Maclan, half submerged in the swiftly flowing water. There was blood pooled on the ground at Borran’s feet, and bloody sigils adorned Maclan’s face and the stone.

  But whose blood?

  Connor ran to Maclan as Reid grabbed his mother under the arms and dragged her to drier ground. Her face was white as snow, her lips a worrisome shade of blue.

  “Mother.” He shook her gently at first and then with more vigor, patting her cold cheeks. Finally, she coughed and opened her eyes.

  “Maclan. Where’s Maclan?”

  Connor roused Maclan, pulling him to sitting position. The eldest Tarhill put a hand to his head. “Where am I?”

  Reid’s heart could have burst. Maclan had turned the corner. He’d survive.

  “He’s fine, Mother,” Reid said, smiling. But as she reached out a hand to touch him, Reid noted blood oozing from a gaping knife cut on the inside of her forearm. Fearfully, he checked the other. It too had a slice along the soft flesh. The edges of the wounds gaped, swollen and waterlogged.

  “Mother, what did you do?” He stripped off his shirt and tore it in two, tightly binding the wounds on both of her arms. But she only laughed with weak joy at the sight of Maclan’s worried face.

  “I summoned Borran. Asked him to save my son.” Her face bore a beatific smile beneath her closed eyes.

  “Brigga!” Ingrid cried out as she raced into the clearing, Bradan and Ealea close on her heels.

  She knelt by Reid, checking Brigga as she would any patient but he felt her fear. “We’ve got to get her warm. Quickly.”

  Bradan’s heavy hand on Reid’s shoulder pulled him back. “I can carry her, you help Connor with your brother.” Then, the bear of a chieftain squatted down and lifted Reid’s mother as if she were only a child. Connor pulled Maclan to his feet and with Reid supporting Mac’s other side, the two boys helped their brother home where a warm bed and a meal awaited them.

  Though Maclan complained of a headache, his eyes were clear and he said he could eat a whole elk by himself. Reid nearly wept, knowing that Mac would surely live. But his mother’s condition worried him.

  Tarhill was up and grumping about no one making him breakfast when they returned. He brightened at the sight of Connor and Reid dragging a lucid Maclan through the door. While Connor sat Mac at the table, Tarhill found some bread and cheese for him. Then Reid held the door open for Bradan carrying Brigga. Ealea and Ingrid close behind.

  Reid wasn’t sure what he expected from Tarhill, but the plaintive cry that escaped the old man’s quivering lips was not it. Tarhill rushed to his wife, his gnarled hand gently cupping her cheek.

  “Bree,” he said, half a whisper. “Bree, ma girl. What fool thing have you done this time?”

  She opened her eyes halfway and smiled. “I saved our Maclan.”

  “On the bed, quickly!” Ingrid instructed curtly. She grabbed Reid’s arm. “Bring warm furs.” Then she shooed Tarhill into the room where he had most recently lain and instructed Bradan to place Brigga there. Ealea made herself at home in the kitchen, stoking the hearth and putting a pot of water on to boil.

  Ingrid snatched the furs from Reid and tucked them in around his mother as Tarhill knelt by her head, one of her hands in his.

  “What were you thinking, Bree? You daft woman,” Ingrid chided. Exasperation roughened her tone enough to earn a glare from Tarhill.

/>   “What I had to,” Brigga whispered through teeth that had started to chatter. She wasn’t looking at Tarhill, only Ingrid. “I had a vision. I had to take Maclan to the stone and call Borran. I asked for a favor.” Her smile was childlike and broad as her eyes flicked to where Mac sat with Connor, talking for the first time in a week. “This time, he answered me.”

  Ingrid pressed her lips together in a disapproving scowl. “And you will pay dearly for it,” she whispered to her friend.

  “Aye, love, I think so,” Brigga agreed, eyes closed as if pained.

  Tarhill was scowling, rage reddening his sick pale face. “Where’d you find her?” he asked.

  “The river,” Ingrid said, hesitating to say more.

  “You mean where that bloody bear statue is? That river?”

  Ingrid fixed him with a steady assessing gaze as if reading the man. “Yes, Tamrach. That river.”

  “Will your bloody bear take all of my joy?” he asked with venom. “Or will he leave me a morsel, do ya think?”

  “You’ve been given a gift, Tamrach.” She looked pointedly at Maclan. “A costly one, but a gift nonetheless.”

  She gave the furs a final tuck, moving to the table where Connor, Bradan, and Maclan sat. She began barking orders which the young men followed without question.

  It was a long day and stressful. By the end of it, Maclan was on the mend although so weak he could barely raise a spoon to his mouth. Tarhill, as well, had turned the corner and surprised his sons by spending the whole day next to his wife’s sick bed. Brigga had lost a lot of blood in the water and though Ealea had stitched the cuts on her arms, her limbs remained cool to touch. She faded in and out but smiled each time she woke.

  When the chores were done and the houses had become quiet, all Reid wanted was to go to Maura. Though she wasn’t strong enough for his bad news, he longed for her warm hands and comforting banter. He waited until he was sure the others were sleeping and once again snuck through the village to her window. This time, he noticed it had been left unlatched.

  He pulled the shutters open. Her voice greeted him before he saw her. “I thought you might forget your promise.” She sounded worse than the night before.