Faenella, Eganene
“Will they hunt us?” Jamie’s eyes were on the boy, wondering what they were going to do with him.
Agatha shrugged, “If they know we were here, then yes, they will hunt us.”
“But they let him go,” Jamie whispered back, checking that the kid was still trudging along behind them.
“They still might come for him,” Agatha explained. “They might see our trail. We need to get far away from here.”
“But Elisabeth and Bekka...”
“We can’t go north. The Hunter told you. The Family know we were there. We need to head south. Find help.” She stopped, waiting for the kid to catch up. Ian walked slowly, his head down. “The boy can’t be seen here, not with his family gone.”
Jamie shook his head, “Why...”
“The town will think he’s the informer. Why else would the Family leave him alive? He’s bait. And Elisabeth and Bekka will keep until we have the means to help them.”
“No, Agatha,” Jamie protested. “We’re not doing anything?! If the Family are hunting them, we can’t just leave them!”
She gave him a winnowing stare, “Jamie. How long has it been since you’ve seen your sister? Hours? Days?”
“That’s not the point,” he started.
“It is the point,” she replied, pulling her jacket about her. Night had begun to fall, and it was obvious she was eager to find a campsite. “Bekka and Elisabeth were in Philly weeks ago. The Hunter you talked to, Carl, said there were things happening up north. He said they were chasing a girl and the Family man with her.”
Jamie regarded her coldly, “It can’t be....”
Agatha shrugged, “It would be better if it was your sister or Bekka. At least then we would know they were alive.”
Jamie glared at the old woman, “I’m not going to think like that, Agatha. I know Elisabeth’s alive. I know it. If someone is chasing her, then I’m going to find her. I’m going to find them.”
In the early moonlight, Agatha’s face looked old and hollow.
“I care about Bekka, too, you know,” he finished.
The old woman gave him a look.
Jamie continued, “I knew Bekka, Agatha. I won’t let her get hurt either.”
For several seconds they just plodded along, the two humans holding the horses’ reins and Ian trailing behind.
Finally, Agatha said, “I heard some rumors in the market, Jamie. A lot of madness happened up north. But the chase is headed south. Whoever they are, they’re running towards us.”
“But…”
Agatha shook her head to stop his comment, “No. If it’s Bekka and Elisabeth, then they’re headed this way. We need weapons and help. Then, and only then, can we help them.”
Fuming, he turned away, “I think this is as good a spot as any.”
Tying Bain’s reins to a nearby tree, he pulled the bags off the horses. Camp took only a short time to set-up. The air was chilly without a fire.
Agatha went to Ian and spoke to him softly while Jamie busied himself with taking the saddles off the horses and feeding them some grain. He wasn’t sure what else he should be doing or how to care for them, but he did the best he could. The moon was bright when he saw her return, the light making her pale hair glow.
“I’ll see to the horses,” she said, taking her mare’s reins. “See to the boy. He needs blankets and company. I’ve taken care of his head wound. It should heal cleanly.”
Jamie nodded. He didn’t feel like talking to her, anyway.
They couldn’t be more than a mile or two from the boy’s home. Smoke billowed up above the large pines to northwest and permeated the forest around them to cover the area like a shroud. Jamie used their blankets to make them a bed. Lying on his back beside the lanky boy, he searched for stars, trying hard to assure himself that something, at least, was the same.
Ian hadn’t said a word to him since Jamie led him stumbling back. The smoke had a strong smell. The burning home stank, its scent twisting his stomach so that for once, he wasn’t hungry. He knew Agatha wouldn’t want to risk a fire, so he lay down in the cold darkness to rest and to look for the moon in the clear half of the sky.
Ian was restless beside him, tossing and turning in his nest of blankets. For Jamie, it was strange having someone other than Agatha beside him. The old woman exuded a sense of sad calm that Jamie had grown used to. After all those hours walking beside her, wondering about what had happened and what would happen, the silence had become normal.
Agatha had been able to get the boy’s name, but not much else. Not that Jamie was surprised. The poor kid had just lost his entire family.
All the night’s sounds seemed more sinister. Jamie shuddered, listening to twigs snap and leaves and branches rustle in the wind. It was too easy to imagine those men deciding they made a mistake, to see them with guns in their hands as they hunted the boy.
And he wasn’t scared only for Ian. Those men were the Dogs Agatha was terrified of, the men searching for Bekka and Elisabeth, and they would search for him.
Jamie needed to break the silence, as much for himself as for the kid beside him.
The conversation started slowly, awkwardly. He wanted to say sorry for what had happened to the Ian’s family, but the comment seemed inadequate. He’d lost his own father at a young age, but he still didn’t know what to say.
They lay there quietly, watching the hot puffs of air rising from their mouths. The kid’s pain was palpable. It looked like he wanted to inhale deeply, but was afraid he would choke. Glaring into darkness, Jamie finally worked himself up to speak. “I’m sorry, man.”
The kid shifted in his blankets, folding his arms behind his head. “Thanks.”
Jamie rushed to fill the silence afterwards. “My folks are gone, too. My dad died when I was little and my mom’s abroad. She’s in the military, so, I’m not sure if I’ll see her again. I know it is different, but it sucks.”
Ian grunted.
At least he’s listening, Jamie thought.
“I have a sister, but I’m not sure where she is. We woke up in this building and Agatha showed up. Like out of nowhere. Nothing made sense. We couldn’t get back inside. We were looking for help, got separated, and then there was a fire...”
The boy sobbed, the sound torn from his throat, slow and torturous. It filled the silent forest air with pain. Jamie longed to do something, anything, to help, but he felt as lost and powerless as Ian did. He couldn’t make it better, couldn’t fix what had happened.
He kept talking, burying the kid’s cries in his words.
“My sister is as tall as me, She can play ball, too. I’m better, though. We’re twins, so she kinda looks like me without the beard.”
He thought he might have heard a laugh, but it could have been his imagination. “Besides ball, we’re pretty different. She’s a lot nicer than me. Naïve, you know. I’m scared for her.”
Fighting down his own anxiety, he didn’t see the kid’s confused expression. “We got stuck in the big snow storm a few weeks ago. The weather was crazy, and I… we got separated.”
“Where are you from?” Ian asked.
Jamie swallowed, “Far from here.” He shrugged, “Honestly, I’m not sure how to explain it. Agatha tried to explain it to me, but I’m not sure I really understand. You’ve heard of Earth?”
The kid shook his head, the long strands of hair swaying in the moonlight. “No,” he said, “is it far?”
Jamie laughed, “I wish I had an answer to that. I...man, I don’t even know where we are now.”
Ian looked shocked, “Faenella.”
Jamie shook his head, “Never heard of it.”
“Really?”
“No, seriously,” Jamie replied, “this is the first time I’ve ever been here.”
“But Faenella is a big market,” Ian argued. His voice sounded stronger. “My dad...” he cut off, choking on his words.
“He made weapons?” Jamie asked quickly.
Ian nodded, “All kinds. Swords. Axes. Daggers. There’s no one better.”
Before the kid could think, Jamie said, “I’m sure. We were here to get swords. Carl, from town, told us your dad was, is, I... your dad was the best.”
Ian grimaced, “Yeah, my dad was the best.”
Jamie pulled the blankets closer to his body, wishing for a fire. The light really would have made it better. Instead the pale blue from the moon lay over everything like an unshakable patina, a dusting of sadness and grief. It struggled from above the clouds and smoke haze, the light weak and inconstant.
“We were in a big building,” Jamie heard himself saying. “It looked like our old building, our home. But it wasn’t and everything was wrong. We tried to figure out what was happening, but it didn’t work. I was injured...”
“What happened?”
“A mistake. There was something in the room with Agatha, something evil. She called it a Creeling, I think. It attacked her and she fought it.”
Ian nodded knowingly, “Bad news.”
“Yeah, I didn’t know what happened,” he continued. “I heard her yell and I rushed back.”
Ian was watching him now, his eyes wide. “And?”
Jamie flinched. “I...I ran into the room. She didn’t know it was me and she shot me with some kind of blue electricity. It was like fire...” Jamie shuddered, trying to get the words out. “I couldn’t do anything. It hit me and I...I...god, it hurt so bad.”
In the darkness of the night, he turned his face away, his tears sliding over his cold cheeks. Sniffling, he imagined what it would be like to be back in Philly. He wouldn’t be crying there. Glancing at his hands and the ropes of blue scar tissue peaking from his sleeves, he shuddered.
No, even if he were back in Philly, nothing would be right. He wished he knew where his sister was. Once they were together again, he would be able to come up with a plan.
“What was it?” Ian finally asked, his curiosity out weighing his tact.
“Magic,” Jamie suggested. “I don’t know what else it could have been.”
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Ian looked horrified, “But...it couldn’t have been. There’s none of that anymore.”
Jamie shook his head, “If I had another way to describe it, I would. But, I don’t. One minute I was running into the room to help and the next, zap. If that isn’t magic...man, I don’t know.”
“That’s not good,” the kid declared.
“No kidding. You haven’t seen what it did to me!”
Ian pulled his blankets closer to his body, all but covering his face. “If you aren't from here, you don’t know what it means.”
“Family?” Jamie asked.
The boy shuddered, “Those men...at...my house.”
Jamie nodded.
“They were Family,” Ian continued. “They hunt people, people who have majic.” The boy pointed at Jamie’s hands, “Is that what’s wrong with you?”
“Agatha brought me to a healer. Somehow, she fixed me. I don’t really remember it. It was painful, though.”
“But you’re alive.”
Jamie nodded, “I am. Now, I need to find my sister.”
“Could I come?” the boy asked hesitantly, brushing a lock of hair from his eyes. “To find your sister and go back to where you’re from.”
Jamie stretched his arms out behind his head, “Sure. You’d like Philly. I’ll buy you a cheesesteak when we get back.”
“That’s food?”
Jamie grunted, “You’ve got no idea. Best food in the world.” He smiled, “Either of our worlds.”
The two boys were silent then, Jamie thinking about how he could convince his mom to let Ian stay. She might not even be back by the time they returned.
When they fell asleep, Agatha was relieved, not knowing what to make of her newest charge. Jamie had probably done him more good than she could have. The child’s presence certainly complicated things, but Jamie needed a friend. Their road was a longer journey than she had implied. It was good he’d have someone to share his burden with.
The next morning brought a smokeless sky and a biting wind. Jamie and Ian scouted the area around the boy’s home. Jamie followed in the younger boy’s wake, picking up the careful way he placed his feet. They were so silent that when they emerged in front of Agatha, she nearly screamed.
“Agatha, it’s us,” Jamie reassured her quickly. “The men are gone. They burned the house and forge and…” he glanced at Ian. “They burned everything. Tobius and some other men came and went. They took some weapons.”
Jamie reached down to stroke Scottie’s fur. “There are a lot of swords and stuff down there. We want to go down and get them. We checked the woods. Their isn’t anyone around. Ian says he knows the place better than his own face and I believe him. You have no idea how quiet this kid is.”
Agatha nodded, “Fine then, but be quick about it. We have about an hour until the rest of the village wakes. I want to be long gone from here.”
The two boys trotted off into the forest, leaving the old woman with the two horses and her orange cat.
Walking back to the house, Ian remarked, “Bossy, huh?”
“She is,” Jamie sighed.
“So where are you headed?”
“West. South. Agatha’s got some friends we’re going to find. Bekka, her granddaughter, got lost the same time as Elisabeth. Agatha figures that we should find some help before we go look for them.”
“What if the Family got…” the boy began.
Jamie stopped and looked the kid in the eyes. They were almost the same height. Jamie had lost a lot of weight, but he still had thirty pounds on the younger boy. Brown eyes watched him seriously, oscillating between anger and despair.
“Nothing has happened to her. I would know,” he said in way of explanation. “It probably sounds nuts, but we’re twins. I can’t explain it any better, but I can tell you, I would know.”
“Simon and I were kind of like that,” the boy offered, his hairless cheeks pink in the wind. “I always knew where he was or what he would be doing. I can’t believe…”
“Simon is your brother?” Jamie asked in confusion. He had only seen the boy’s mother and father.
Ian stopped, his face pinched as he chewed on the difficult words. Toeing his boot into the ground, he wrenched at the belt around his tunic and notched it tighter. Shoulder-length hair fell forward, giving privacy to his tears.
“Simon?” Jamie prompted.
Sobs shook the kid’s shoulders, “He was in the forge when they torched it.”
Silence stretched out between the two boys. Jamie could hear the wind making the tree limbs groan above him. He had to say something, and he needed to do it quickly. “It’s not your fault, Ian. Nothing you could’ve done would have stopped it.”
“But they…”
“Are monsters,” Jamie interrupted. “Monsters, who’ll get what they deserve.”
“How?” the boy’s voice was disbelieving.
“I don’t know,” Jamie admitted. “We’ll have to come up with a plan.”
He regretted the words the instant he said them.
Ian’s head jerked up, his brown eyes suddenly alight. A dark vengeance waited there, smoldering. All trace of the shattered child was gone.
“Yes,” Ian said huskily. “A plan is a good idea.”
Jamie set a fast pace, and soon they were circling the remaining timbers of the house to see the smoking remains. Jamie didn’t look too closely, but the boy had no intentions to stop and search. He ran to where the front of the forge once stood and kicked over a beam. A cascade of ash rained down, marking him as though he was branded.
This was his home, Jamie thought uneasily. He didn’t know if he would have had the courage to search. Ian’s brother had died in there. His bones were in that ash.
Ian sorted while Jamie kept watch. His eyes raked the forest wall, worried that the Dogs would return. A few dark birds circled overhead, reminding him of the boy’s family. The birds rode the wind’s currents, letting the breeze do their work. They hardly flapped their winds, waiting impatiently for the living to leave.
“Found them!” Ian shouted, holding up two, short swords.
They were covered with soot and blackened to the hilt, but Jamie recognized them as bastard swords. The leather wrapping on their pommels had been burned away, and the remaining strings trailed in the dust. Ian ripped them away.
“We will have to rewrap them, but they’re unharmed,” the boy said, vigorously rubbing the metal against his filthy pants.
Jamie watched as the swords took on a silvery brightness. “You know how to use them?”
“My dad is… was… a smith,” Ian said with a heavy breath. “Of course, I know how to use them. Don’t you?”
Jamie shook his head. Amazingly, he felt foolish. “We don’t have many swords where I’m from,” he said in way of explanation.
Finding a piece of salvageable leather, Ian rewrapped the pommel’s bindings. His wide eyes shone with excitement, “I’ll show you how, like I did with Simon…”
Jamie could almost see the memories rushing to overwhelm the boy. “That would be great!” he said, quickly. “I need to know how to defend myself.”
“Yes,” the boy said seriously, staring at the weapons he held in both hands. “Does Agatha need a weapon?”
Jamie shrugged. “Maybe if we could find her a dagger, something small. She’s old, you know.”
“Yeah,” Ian replied, handing him a sword.
While the younger boy searched through the remains of his father’s forge, Jamie analyzed the sword. He could lift it with one hand, but it was too heavy to swing properly and he felt unbalanced. Grasping it with both hands, he slashed out at the open air, spinning himself about.
He turned to see Ian watching him, the boy’s mouth open in shock.
Laughter erupted, bubbling to the surface with an almost hysterical quality. “Oh…my…gods…,” he panted as Jamie stood there stupidly, sword dragging in the dirt. “You really don’t have any idea how to use that, do you?”
Jamie shook his head, willing to accept the full force of Ian’s mockery. The boy quieted himself and placed a hand on Jamie’s shoulder. The gesture was eerily reminiscent of moments ago.
“Don’t worry Jamie,” he said, his hair slipping over his eyes. The boy looked at him through his long bangs. Jamie noticed his mischievous grin. “I won second place at the Harvest Festival last year. There isn’t a better kid in a hundred miles, excepting Sam. I’ll teach you well.”
Jamie realized that Ian was trying to make him feel better and grinned. It was his first real smile since waking-up in Eganene.
The boys returned to Agatha an hour later talking loudly.
“Can’t you be quieter?” she hissed, but Jamie knew she would not stay angry long. He and Ian had brought back five daggers between them. Their bastard swords were strapped to their backs, the pommels secured with some larger pieces of leather they had found in the ruins.
Jamie gave Agatha a dagger to put at her waist and the boys both strapped two at their ankles. Jamie felt ridiculous wearing them, but safer. Ian promised that walking would get easier.
However, after staggering about camp like he had sticks in his boots, he surreptitiously untied the throngs and knotted them at his waist.
“Are you both ready?” Agatha asked them.
Jamie looked to Ian, “I’m ready. Are you?”
The boy nodded.
Untying the horses, Agatha said, “We’ll stay off the roads and put as much distance between us and the Dogs as we can.”
“You don’t think they’ll follow us, do you?” Jamie asked.
“No. If they don’t find our tracks, we should be fine. Even if they do, they won’t know who we are. There’s no reason for them to suspect Ian is traveling with others. If they come for him, they won’t follow us.”
Handing Jamie his horses’ reins, she folded a blanket and draped it over her saddle. Picking up Scottie, she set him on it. “I’m calling her Sunshine,” Agatha announced, patting her mare gently.
“She’s never seen that mare angry,” Ian whispered.
Despite the fact that Ian had lived his entire life in Faenella, he knew little about the surrounding area. He gave a few pieces of advice at the onset, but quickly lapsed into silence. Jamie kept an eye on him, watching his expression, but he didn’t know what to say. Nothing was going to make Ian less upset over his family’s murder. The best he could do was to give the boy some space.
Trudging through the woods, stepping over roots and fallen branches, Jamie thought about his own parents. His mom spent most of his youth away at war. When she was home for short leaves, she seemed liked a caged cat, counting the days until she left. It had bothered him as a child, but as he grew older, he minded her absences less and less. He had his sister and that was all that mattered.
Jamie couldn’t remember his dad at all. He’d died when they were young, somewhere overseas. Mom had told them it was an accident, friendly fire. Of course, he he sometimes wished he was around, jealous of his friends and their stories.
He wondered if Ian’s father had ever played ball with him or if they even played ball in Eganene. The boy’s expression was pinched, his brows furrowed beneath his bangs. Snow had crystallized on the shoulders of his jacket and bits of leaves clung to his shoulder-length hair. Even with the tree cover, the wind seemed intent on sucking the warmth from their bones. The kid wasn’t even keeping his face lowered.
They stopped after a few hours. The muscles in his legs burned, and he looked at Bain in annoyance. What the heck was the horse for, anyway?
Not much, if I can’t even ride him.
Lunch was dried jerky, hard cheese and harder biscuits. They didn’t bother to hobble the horses, but just tied their reins about a nearby branch. And they didn’t light a fire either. There was no point. They were going to move on.
A fallen log provided them a seat, and they spent their lunch stamping the cold from their feet. “We should be able to ride soon,” Agatha explained and Jamie grunted. “If memory serves me,” she said, “there’s a road some miles ahead that we can follow west.”
Jamie sighed, the last thing he wanted to think about was more miles of walking.
“I’m not coming with you,” Ian said, so softly that Jamie wasn’t sure he had heard him at all.
“What?” he asked.
“I’m not going with you,” the boy repeated, staring hard at Agatha.
“But…” she began.
“I have to go back. Those men need to pay for what they’ve done.”
The old woman let go of Scottie, who had been enjoying the warmth of her arms, and shook her head. “Ian, you’re angry, but…”
“You don’t know,” he replied vehemently, kicking the snow with the toe of a boot and sending Scottie into the trees. “It wasn’t your family! What would you know about it?”
“Hey, now,” Jamie tried.
At the same time, Agatha said, “More than you’d think.”
Ian shook his head, “I have to go back.”
She sighed. “I lost my family to men just like those,” she told him. “My husband and eight children. Bekka and I were the only ones to escape.”
Jamie couldn’t suppress a grunt. He’d thought Bekka was from his world. “What happened to them?” he asked.
“It was a long time ago.”
“What happened?” Ian asked, his eyes wild. “What did your family do?”
Jamie wanted to ask him what his own had done, but Agatha covered her face with her hands. “I don’t know if I can tell that story. I’ve never spoken about it before.”
Ian stood up.
Shoulders trembling, she looked at him. She didn’t reply right away, watching him as he watched her. Finally, she shook her head. “I’ll tell you tonight. I need some time.”
“Tonight, then,” the boy agreed.
Dark clouds covered the sky as the three travelers made camp for the evening, Jamie and Ian fashioned a lean-to for the horses to protect them from the worst of the wind. The kid knew a lot about surviving in the woods. Jamie was an eager student, trying to learn everything at once.
It took both of them to construct the shelter. They used two closely set trees as poles, and Ian cut pine boughs to secure to the lowest branches. Jamie was grateful for the twine Agatha had purchased in town.
Once finished, Agatha built a fire a few feet from the entrance. They had a large boulder to guard their backs.
“Why not closer?” Jamie asked pointing at the fire.
“It would melt the snow above us,” Ian explained. “Then it would fall on us and freeze again. Trust me, that’s not a pleasant way to wake-up.”
After sweeping the ground as clear as possible, Agatha put some of the blankets down and told them to sit. She portioned out their dried dinner without speaking, obviously uncomfortable with the impending discussion. Jamie was grateful when Scottie curled up between Agatha’s leg and his own. The cat’s body was a familiar warmth.
“Tell me of your family?” Agatha asked Ian. The woods around them was alive with unknown creaks and whines. The winter breeze made the fire’s flames lick closer, ash landing on their clothes.
“My mother was a kind person,” Ian started, his voice almost too low to hear. “She loved to play silly tricks and pick berries in the spring. Any time she was doing chores she would hum or sing. She had a beautiful voice.
She was always singing. Songs about the gods, holiday songs, anything really. She even made them up sometimes. I liked those the best. They were always about some adventure that Simon and I were on, slaying lizardbacks or finding a white one-horn. She liked to smile, but Simon and I never once got dinner without washing-up first. Even the Nineteen’s own, Father Mik, got told to go wash.”
The boy smiled at his memories, an easy grin that to Jamie looked completely alien. “What about your dad?” he prompted, not wanting the boy’s expression to turn darker. “These swords are great. He must have been real good.”
“Best around. Ask anyone,” Ian replied. “People came from as far as Treetown just to see my Pa. They have their own smithy, too, but my Pa is better. His steel doesn’t chip or rust, if you take care of it.
I help him work, you know, pumping the bellows. And sometimes he lets me cool the blades in the barrels. You have to know the right order and timing or everything comes out wrong. Once I…” he trailed off, realizing that he would never work with his father again.
“It’s not my story we should be hearing, Mistress,” he said, accusingly. “You promised us a tale. Your own family’s story. I won’t push you to it, but I won’t stay if you don’t tell it.”
Jamie was surprised at the calmness in the boy’s voice. He realized Ian was completely serious about leaving. Watching Agatha, he felt a moment of pity. She probably didn’t want to talk about her own tragedy any more than Ian did. He couldn’t help being curious though.
If she had magic powers, why hadn’t she just blasted anyone who bothered her? He knew first hand what she was capable of. Orange firelight played on his hands, the vivid rope-like scars wrapping and lacing their way up his forearm. He knew exactly what she was capable of.
“Tell us, Agatha,” he prompted. “I think we both deserve to hear this.”
If it was possible, the grandmother looked even older than before. Scottie meowed and she scooped him onto her lap, stroking him gently. “It is a long story,” she said in way of a preamble.
“We’ve got all night,” Ian said, pulling a blanket around his shoulders.
“It’s not a good tale. No happy endings,” Agatha tried again.
“Most don’t,” Ian said softly. “Tell your tale.”