Raven Flight by Juliet Marillier
After a moment she said, “I do understand, Neryn. I just don’t like it much. I’d rather fight with a good blade than use my hands or a nearby lump of rock. Let’s hope this Hag of the Isles has some insights into the problem of iron. It looms as serious if we’re expecting these folk to stand up beside us when the time comes.”
We passed the farm where Flint and I had been sheltered overnight. We passed two more dwellings. There was nobody around, though smoke from hearth fires threaded up into the cold morning air. Then without warning Tali grabbed my arm and pulled me down into the concealment of a drystone wall.
“What?” I whispered, my heart juddering.
Tali put a finger to her lips. We waited, motionless. After what felt like a long time, there came the sound of bleating, movement on the path down the hill, a sharp whistle, the bark of a dog. Memories crowded me. I clenched my teeth and tried to concentrate on the here and now. Let these folk pass; let us get down to the defile unnoticed. Let me not meet someone who remembered me from last time I was here.
“Now,” murmured Tali, who had put her head up to scan the track. “Quick.”
No running; I knew that without being told. Instead, it was a creep from stone wall to outhouse, from outhouse to trees, from trees to rocks, each time waiting under cover until Tali gave the sign that it was safe to go on. I could hear the sheep still, up behind a run-down barn. The barking had ceased; maybe the dog was too busy to scent strangers close by. Only when we were clear of the scattered settlement and within a few hundred paces of the defile did I risk speaking, and I kept my voice down.
“Thanks. I didn’t see them coming.”
“Doing my job, that’s all. Now wait here while I go and look through the defile. We’re not going in until the road’s clear ahead.”
The canny gifts possessed by some human folk, thanks to a fey ancestor, were of numerous kinds. Tali’s gift was unusually sharp eyesight. I stayed crouched in the concealment of some low bushes while she went forward. The way she moved made a mockery of her disguise; every part of her body was finely tuned, on guard, ready for whatever might come. Before we left Shadowfell, she’d set out for me what I should do if we were attacked: keep out of things and let her do the fighting. Escape by any means I had at my disposal—my staff, my knife, my canny gift. I had reminded her that if I called the Good Folk to help us and others saw the encounter, word would soon get back to the king’s men. If you must use it to save yourself, use it, she’d said. Regan needs you. And, Neryn? Never forget the rebel code—the cause comes first, no matter what. If you can escape by leaving me behind, that’s what you do. Each of us had a little packet of hemlock seeds concealed in her clothing. Since the death of Andra’s brother, the rebels had carried these close to their bodies, within quick reach. When Fingal had given me mine, I had asked him whether anyone had ever used the seeds. His face had gone very still. And he’d said, “Best that we don’t speak of that.”
Tali was back, crouching down beside me. “Folk approaching the defile from the other side. Not Enforcers; people on foot, with children. After them it’s clear. We wait. Up there.” She jerked her head toward the oaks on the hillside behind us.
The trees were leafless still, providing scant cover, but we found a hollow sheltered by rocks. There we waited, taking the opportunity to drink from our waterskins and eat a little of Milla’s waybread. There was no talking. After some time a family of five came out from the defile: a man and a woman, each carrying a sack of grain, three weary-looking children with bundles, and a little dog. As they passed the point nearest to our hiding place, the dog pricked up its ears and turned its head toward us. But one of the lads had it on a rope lead, and when it pulled in our direction, he cursed it and hauled it after him.
They moved on up the valley and out of sight. Tali checked the defile again, and now someone else was coming. We waited until a boy had passed through with a bow over his shoulder and a pair of rabbits dangling, limp, from his hand. Someone would eat well today. Tali checked a third time and gestured for me to come down; the defile was clear.
“Right,” Tali muttered. “Straight through, and if I’m wrong and someone comes, we don’t speak unless we have to. And if we do have to, we stick to the story.”
“It would help if you could walk a bit less like a warrior,” I murmured. “Couldn’t you slump a little?”
“Not every woman of Alban is a downtrodden drudge, Neryn. I don’t see you doing any slumping.”
“No, but … never mind.”
It was shadowy in the defile. The river coursed along beside us, swollen by the melting snow. Its voice clamored in our ears. The rock walls threw back the sound, making one river into many. Tali set a quick pace; I made sure I kept up. As I passed, I murmured a belated thank-you to the stanie mon somewhere in the cliff above us, the one who had hidden me when the Enforcers came. Not his fault that the farm folk had found me and apprehended me soon afterward. He had answered my call straightaway; he had saved me from torture, enthrallment, maybe death.
We were nearly through when Tali halted suddenly, and I just avoided crashing into her. She put a hand up, signaling silence. I felt the thump of my heart; I made myself breathe slowly. Then she turned and mouthed one word. Enforcers.
No going back. We sprinted forward to the place where the defile broadened and the Rush valley opened out again. I still couldn’t see anyone on the road ahead, but Tali led me at a run onto the open ground that lay between track and river. Here, the remnants of old drystone walls ran across barren terrain dotted by coarse grasses and the odd scrubby bush. A few goats grazed on the sparse pickings. The only farmhouse was at some distance, on the eastern side of the track.
“Quick!” Tali glanced back over her shoulder, toward the road. Ahead was a stretch of wall less broken than the rest. “Come on, Neryn!”
We reached the wall; dived down behind it, lying flat on the hard ground with our packs beside us.
“Don’t move,” Tali muttered. “Don’t make a sound.”
The wait felt endless. My throat was dry; dust went up my nose and I had to force down a sneeze. My body ached with cramps. But Tali had trained me well, in both endurance and strength. I held still. I kept quiet. And eventually, over the sound of the river, I heard hoofbeats on the road from Summerfort. I stayed flat, listening as they passed us and moved on into the defile. At least three riders, maybe more.
“Now,” breathed Tali. I rose to my feet, wincing as a cramp stabbed through my legs. Tali shouldered one bag; I grabbed the other. Dust was still rising from the riders’ passage as the two of us headed toward the river, keeping low. The ground was uneven. My foot went into a sudden hole and I almost twisted my ankle. My breath was coming hard; my chest hurt. “Here,” Tali muttered, reaching for my hand. “Up ahead, those trees. Keep your head down.”
We reached the trees. Only then did I see that the natural contour of the land in this spot provided a hiding place. The riverbank was higher here, and between the alders was a sheltered hollow that would be invisible from the road. We threw the bags down and clambered after them. My heart was racing. If not for Tali’s canny eyesight, we’d still have been in the open when the king’s men came by.
“My guess is they’ll ride back down before long,” Tali said. “They were traveling too light to be headed over the pass. Must have some business at those farms. Just as well we weren’t caught higher up.”
“So we wait here until they go by again?” I tried to match her calm tone.
“Mm-hm.” She settled in a spot where she could see over the riverbank to the road, which lay some two hundred strides away.
“What if they don’t? What if you’re wrong and they are headed over the pass?”
“Unlikely, in my judgment. Now tell me—this brollachan cave we’re headed for, can we get there straight along the riverbank? Pity we don’t have a boat.” She took her gaze off the road for a moment to look down at the river, a churning mass of gray water from one bank t
“You’re joking.”
“It would certainly get us downstream fast. The problem might be stopping before we washed up at the river mouth in full view of the Summerfort sentries.”
As a joke, it was distinctly unamusing. “We can get most of the way along the bank,” I told her. “Right at the end, there’s a sort of stony hill on this side, and we have to climb that to reach Hollow’s cave and the bridge.”
“I think I remember the spot, though I never saw any bridge in this valley except the king’s bridge.”
“Brollachan Bridge is hidden by the hill. It’s only a log.” Only was hardly the right term for the monumental tree trunk that spanned the gap between rocky rise and cliff face. “I hope Hollow’s in a good mood today.”
“What’ll he do if he isn’t?”
“He likes games. The kind of games that could end up with someone falling a long way.”
Tali gave a slow smile. “We’ll see about that.”
“He’s a friend, Tali.”
“As I said.”
* * *
It was late afternoon before the three Enforcers rode back through the defile—long enough for my imagination to provide a picture of what might be happening in one or another of those lonely farmsteads. At a certain point in the afternoon, a column of smoke arose from the approximate direction of the farms. Neither Tali nor I made comment. We heard no screams, no sounds of weapons being drawn, no dogs barking. But maybe we were too far away for that. The smoke was thinning by the time the king’s men came riding by, the silver on their bridles glinting in the sunlight, their horses uniformly tall and black. The men’s faces were concealed by their Enforcer masks, dark cloths wrapped over nose, mouth, and chin. None of them was Flint. I would have known him instantly, mask or no mask.
As soon as they were out of sight, we moved on. We followed the east bank of the Rush, staying in whatever cover we could find, but there was nobody on the road now, and nothing stirred in the valley save birds passing high above us and a goat or two in the fields. I had no sense of Good Folk anywhere nearby. Perhaps Tali’s weapons were keeping them away.
We reached Hollow’s hill not long before dusk. Tali was edgy. I had asked her to wrap and stow her weapons when the hill came into view and she had complied without a word. Now her hand kept moving to her belt, reaching for a knife that was not there. The hill loomed dark under a sky now thick with clouds; it would rain tonight. Hollow’s hearth fire would be welcome.
“He might jump out and yell,” I warned Tali. “Keep your weapons wrapped up. He knows I’m a friend. It will be all right once he sees me.”
“As long as he recognizes you before he rips our heads off, fine with me.”
“I’ll go first.” I climbed the narrow path between the rocks, using my staff to help me balance. The light was fading fast. At every step I anticipated a great shout from above, for when I had dared set foot on his bridge the first time, Hollow had hurled a fearsome challenge. I found I was holding my breath, waiting for the moment when his booming voice would ring from the rocky hillock.
We climbed and climbed, and there was nothing. Only the moon low over the horizon, and a high-pitched sound as something flew overhead. Now we must be almost level with the cliff path on the far side of the river, where Sorrel had died and Sage had held off two Enforcers to allow my escape. And still the place was quiet. Could it be that Hollow only guarded the front door, not the back?
We reached the end of the path. A shadowy passageway led straight into the hill. No sign of the brollachan. I could see no light from within Hollow’s lair, neither the warm glow of a lantern nor the flicker of a hearth fire.
“Call him,” Tali whispered.
No need for a canny call here, only the kind a traveler might make at a friend’s doorway. “Hollow, are you there? It’s Neryn.”
Nothing. I tried again. “Hollow! It’s Neryn, Sage’s friend. You helped me last autumn when I was in trouble. I’m here with another woman. May we come in?”
Silence. I looked at Tali; Tali looked at me. Soon it would be too dark to move around safely on these rocks. Besides, there was nowhere else to shelter.
“Don’t tell me,” she said, taking off her pack and setting it on the ground so she could rummage inside. “Make fire without using a knife, light a candle, then walk into some creature’s lair with only my bare fists to defend both of us. Yes?”
“Use your knife. But wrap it up again as soon as the candle’s burning. He can’t be gone. Guarding the bridge is his mission, his solemn trust. He’d have come with me and protected me on the journey if not for that.”
“Really?” Tali was working efficiently with flint and knife; she had a supply of compressed tinder in her bag, and a beeswax candle in a holder. “So where is he?”
“Maybe asleep. Or on the bridge. I don’t know.”
She said nothing more until the candle was alight and her materials were stowed in the pack again. “Neryn, this could be a trap.” She was keeping her voice to a murmur. “There could be anyone in there. The two of us, with no proper weapons at hand, wandering along a narrow tunnel with a nice little light to warn folk we’re coming—that’s asking for trouble. If your friend were here, surely he would have come out by now.”
“We must go in. Maybe he’s sick or hurt.”
“We’d be better off finding a place to shelter among these rocks, and having another look in the morning.”
“If it’s some kind of ambush, whoever it is will have heard us by now. So your suggestion doesn’t make much sense. We need to go in. If Hollow isn’t there, we can at least make a proper fire and sleep under cover.”
As if in answer, rain began to fall in pattering drops. Tali put up her hand to shield the candle. “Black Crow’s curse! All right, but you carry the candle. I want my staff ready.”
There was no ambush. We made our way cautiously through a network of dark tunnels, guessing at the right direction. Our candle was the only light. It felt a long way. It felt much farther than I had walked last time I was here, when Hollow had bid me farewell at the back door.
“Hope you’re right about this,” Tali murmured. As she spoke, I felt a movement of the air suggested the narrow tunnel was opening out. We stepped forward and into Hollow’s cave.
“This is it,” I breathed.
The fire on the broad hearth was a pile of whispering ashes. Above it the roof arched high; shadows moved oddly in the candlelight.
“There are bones everywhere.” Tali’s voice was hushed. “Hundreds of bones.”
“He collects them.” I set down my bag and staff. “We may as well make a fire; there’s a woodpile over there. We should save the candle.” Where was Hollow? Surely he wouldn’t leave the bridge. Had the Enforcers been here? Had I been wrong about the brollachan’s ability to withstand cold iron?
Tali set her belongings down and fetched an armful of firewood. I stirred the ash heap with a long stick.
“Tali!”
She was by my side in a moment.
“There are glowing embers here. He hasn’t been gone long.”
She made no comment, simply went about getting the fire burning again with the efficiency she turned to every task. I took out some provisions and set them on one of the flat stones that furnished Hollow’s lair.
Tali started suddenly. “What was that?”
I listened, and for a while heard nothing. Then it came, a thready whimpering from somewhere in the dark recesses of the cavern.
“Give me the candle.” I moved cautiously in the direction of the sound, taking care not to trip on the bones, which were not in a tidy arrangement as Hollow liked them, but scattered here and there on the ground.
Over by the wall was a pile of old sacks, and from deep within, a pair of frightened eyes peered out. I released my breath and knelt down, not too close, for I knew from experience how hard the pookie could bite. “It’s his friend,” I told Tali, feeling suddenly cold. “Something b
As if it understood, the catlike creature began a mournful wailing, but when I tried to coax it out, it hissed and retreated farther into the sacks.
“Food,” I said. “Cheese, in particular. And it likes to be warm, so let’s build up the fire.”
Tali was doing so even as I spoke. “What in the name of the gods is a pookie?” she asked.
“I’d never heard of one until I came here. It’s Hollow’s only companion.”
It took me a while to get the little creature out, even with morsels of cheese as a lure. Eventually it crept toward the fire and settled itself on my folded cloak, shivering. The embers suggested Hollow had been gone less than a day; the pookie was not starving, though once it was out, it ate as if it hadn’t seen a meal since my last visit in autumn.
Tali settled herself out of biting range, watching the creature as we ate our own meager supper. There had been no hunting or trapping today, and we needed to make our provisions last. “Can we get over this bridge without the brollachan?” she asked after a while. There was no need for her to spell it out: with Enforcers active in the valley, it was doubly important for us to avoid the king’s bridge. And Brollachan Bridge was the only other way.
“We could.” I glanced at the pookie, which had sidled closer and was curled up against my leg. “It’s a matter of keeping your balance and not looking down. Once we’re over, there’s a small settlement to pass through, then a track that leads to the woods above Deepwater. Last autumn the king had sentries along the hill on this side, and the local people were in the habit of telling them when strangers passed through.”
“Hmm. Well, this place is good shelter. I never knew about this bridge, and I’ve been up and down the valley more times than I can count.”