Dust and Water: A Song For The Stained Novella (A MAGICAL SAGA) (4 page)

Everyone’s eyes are on us as the cart races into the yard. Sareen rushes over.

“Andy, Scott, Dan,” she says, her voice shaky with emotion, before scooping the three boys into one big hug.

“Well done, son,” Roland says to me, still mounted on his big horse.

Behind him, Ash nods in appreciation.

Right, enough of this emotional-hogs-wash. “Time I was outta here,” I say.

Oh, dung! My hoard’s still out by the road.

“Wait,” the girl shouts, but I’m already running as fast as my short legs will carry me.

Out the gate, down the track, to the road. There’s no one in sight, actually there’s nothing in sight.

Not even my bundle.

I’m sure I left it right here, beside the intersection where the road and driveway meet. Right out in the open. How could I have been so stupid!

Horse hooves; I spin to see who’s approaching.

It’s just Roland, Ash and Dom. Ignoring them, I dive into the bushes. It’s got to be around here somewhere. I kick at the dead grasses and pushing aside the piles of leaves, but there’s nothing.

“It’s gone,” I announce, throwing my hands up in defeat.

“What’s gone?” Ash asks.

“His filthy clothes,” Dom says.

Something takes over my muscles. I tackle the guy right off his horse and pummel my fist into his chest as he tries to get the wind back into him in the dirt.

“Shut your mouth,” I yell. “No hoard no food. Do you know the beating I’ll get?” I try to growl at him, but gasping and struggling makes a fair bit of noise.

I’m lifted off the ground, Roland holding one of my arms and Ash holding the other.

Is Ash laughing? Yes, he is. Was I funny?

“It’s good to see someone get their own over Dom,” Ash explains.

“You think that’s funny?” I turn, trying to whack Ash, but I miss.

“Easy there, wild thing,” Dom says.

He looks all dirty and roughed up, but he doesn’t look hurt. Dung it, I wanted him hurt.

I pull my arm free from Roland’s half grip and turn. Since my hoard’s gone, I might as well go back and collect the stuff I buried yesterday.

That girl on the white horse was wrong. Stopping at a homestead for the night has been the worst idea ever.

“Hop on,” Roland says, his big horse trotting up beside me.

I look up at him, and I mean up, there’s no way I’m going up there. I’ve never ridden a horse in my life, and I’m not about to – whoa!

With one arm, Roland plucks me up off the ground and dumps me behind his saddle.

“What’d you do that for?” I growl.

“If there’s bandits out here then this is no place for a kid to be walking around on his own.”

“Bandits-smandits.” I grunt, still too angry to even bother explaining to these people that a kid looking as ratty as I do doesn’t have to worry about bandits.

Once they were in the trees and another time they even walked right past me on the road. That’s a sum total of twice that I’ve seen them in ten years of walking out here. I only make this trip about once a month. Pa calls it character building. At other times, I walk the Northern Rd and the Highlands Rd.

Well, maybe if I had my hoard they’d try to take it from me…

The road ahead, and behind is clear. Just one set of fresh tracks – the healer’s. No cart tracks. Not even another boot print.

Which means whoever took my load was on foot, and in the bush, and they came all the way up to the Rathernfen’s gate – and took only my things!

One part of me is being eaten up by nerves, yes, there are bandits here and they’re close, but scarier is the fact that I’m sitting on a horse. Whilst the rest of me is sweltering in an angry heat. We turn and ride towards someone’s homestead.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“If there’s bandits about we need to rally the neighbours and drive them out of here.”

“Oh, great. You’re going bandit hunting. Count me out,” I say, slipping from the back of Roland’s horse.

I land hard and almost fall on my face.

This is the homestead where that girl went yesterday. Other horses and people are all over the place. It’s chaos; a mess.

Curiosity gets the better of me and I follow behind Dom’s horse, pulling the gate closed behind us.

The same breed of oversized dogs as the Rathernfen’s, are running around. Scenting the air. Howling. Looking for a fight. I give them a wide berth.

“Roland,” a big guy greets, exiting the house.

“What happened, Wallace?”

Wallace, the big guy, lowers his head and tuts. “Bandits. Laura’s been hurt. Healer says she’ll make it fine, but she almost lost her leg. And another lass who’s been staying here, they hurt her pretty bad, too.”

“Wallace, I’m sorry.”

“Ah, nasty business,” Wallace says. “We’ve got half-a-dozen bandits still out there.”

“Half a dozen,” Roland says, rubbing his stubbly chin. “Is it worth rallying the men?”

“There’s more than that,” I say, then freeze as everyone eyeballs me. And I mean everyone. This Wallace guy, and three boys about Ash and Dom’s age, plus Ash and Dom, and Roland.

That’s too many eyeballs.

“Well, speak up lad,” Roland says.

“My things were taken by someone. Not on a horse, not walking on the road. They were mostly bandit and traders clothes. Who else would want them?” I ask.

“The lad has a point. They were at our front gate too,” Roland says.

“I’ll take the south side of the highway,” one of the lads that I don’t know says.

“And we’ll take the north,” Ash and Dom both say together.

“Let’s muster here as quickly as we can and have these woods cleared by supper,” Roland says, climbing down off his horse.

Now is a very good time for me to leave.

“Wait, Hunter, here,” Roland says. “Take my horse and go with Ash and Dom.”

I look from him to his horse, and back again. That horse is worth more than I will ever own, and he’s letting me take it.

Wait, I don’t know how to ride a horse!

“Come on now, throw yourself on and I’ll tighten the stirrups.”

The what?

I do as I’m told, getting onto the horse is the easy part. When you’re short, you learn how to jump, or you just can’t see or reach anything.

“Isn’t he a bit young?” Wallace asks.

“I’m fourteen,” I declare, sticking my chest out.

“And I’m sixteen, still makes you young Hunter,” Ash says, then looks at my glare and adds, “but old enough.”

“There,” Roland says, once he’s finished adjusting the foot-thingys. “Now just stay close to Dom and Ash. They’ll look after you. Won’t you boys?”

“Yes, Da,” Ash says, then after glancing at his brothers back he adds, “come on Hunter. I’ll make sure nothing bad happens to you.”

The words hit me like one of those falling stars. Like I was just hit in the chest by the thing. He’s going to look after me? No one looks after me. Not even my own Pa or uncle. I swing my heels into the horse’s sides like I’ve seen countless other riders do, and the big brown horse follows Ash.

A horse I’m legally riding. A person who’s not out to hurt me. How did all of this good stuff come from such a great big mess?

‘The neighbours’ consists of fifty or more men, including their older sons, all mounted and carrying swords and rushing with battle orders to fight off bandits.

I’d like to be able to say that I just peacefully slip out of the back of the group and walk home – back to my pile of sacks in the cellar of a tavern.

But I can’t go back home now, not without a hoard, or my pile-of-sacks bed becomes a kicked-out-on-the-street bed.

The bandits have taken something of mine, and a part of me wants to see if I can’t get it back.

The other, bigger, part of me just can’t walk away from all this energy. The people who aren’t trying to hit me, asking what my name is and who I’m here with. The cheers and war cries and the odd song that bursts out as the last of the neighbours are arriving.

Which means I’m going to battle.

Half the men stream out through the front gate and the other half through the back. I’m at the tail end of the back gate lot.

It’s quite, no one’s talking and it’s right on dusk so light is already limited. We amble into and out of field after field.

“We’ve got ‘em now boys,” Wallace says, letting out a low whistle.

Three big dogs come running, sniff the ground and take off into the bush.

“How does he know we’ve got them?” I ask no one in particular.

“They’ve taken their dead,” Ash says. “They only ever take the fallen ones if they’re camped nearby, and they light a big fire to burn them. They only do that when they think they’re superior enough that they won’t be attacked. Tonight they’re wrong.”

“Oh,” is all I can say.

The crisp evening rings clear with the sound of twenty-five swords being drawn. The lead riders chase after the dogs and soon everyone else is diving into the trees, fanning out, giving each other room, and all tracking after the dogs.

“You chicken?” Dom asks, nudging his horse to stand on my other side.

I chuckle. “Wouldn’t know. I’ve never even eaten chicken. Damn sure they don’t hang around sharp objects either.”

“Well, you better grow some muscles, kid, because this is going to get real messy.”

“Been spying on me in the washroom again Dom?” I tease. “Because only the ladies know about my muscles.”

A few of the men in front of us laugh and Dom’s face goes white.

Dom draws his sword. “On second thought, maybe you should stay here – safe.”

I reach down into the cuff of my boot and pull out a dagger as long as my forearm.

“I think I’m pretty safe,” I say, the smile glued to my face by Dom’s wide-eyed and lost for words expression.

The men in front of us disappear into the trees and it’s our turn to give chase. Dom spurs his horse, then Ash and the horse I’m on takes off after them. I’m almost the last person, but soon I’m not thinking about that. All of my energy goes into watching for low tree branches, logs on the ground, and spots where the trees are growing too dense to fit a horse through.

I hold white-knuckle-tight to the reins and the mane and I really wish I hadn’t drawn my dagger because trying to hold on to that too, is difficult.

The horse follows its herd, snorting at the ash and flesh smell, as we get closer to the fire.

Noise, shouts, war cries. Limbs sticking out from under a tee-pee of sticks and smoke billowing up through the trees. Bandits, in rough clothing, and their hair so messed it’s stuck in giant clumps, against the farmers whose eyes are wide with battle-berserk. The horses dance around, their big glassy-eyes reflect the fingers of the fire; and children – tiny – dash into the trees to escape it all.

They’re safe from us. None of these men would hurt a child.

I finally notice that I’m frozen, and the horse beneath me is dancing all wild-animal like. This is insane. I didn’t sign up for this, and I’m not going to get any reward for joining in. The farmers get to keep their farms, their safety, so I understand. But me. What about me?

Dom screams, hitting the ground hard, his horse running off, and clutching his shoulder. A nearby arrow on the ground paints the rest of the picture for me.

He’s not even on his feet, slow farm boy. The arrow shooting-bandit comes rushing out to finish him off, and grab his arrow too, considering his quiver is empty.

I boot the pony, and the little horse almost loses me in its rush to obey. As soon as I’m close enough I boot the bandit in the back of the head. He drops and doesn’t even twitch.

Dom looks up at me, frowning.

The words, ‘should have let you die’ are on the tip of my tongue when he smiles.

“Well, you going to give me a lift on that mule of yours?”

“It’s not mine,” I mutter. “And it’s better looking than you’ll ever be.”

In one quick motion, he’s up behind me. Silly, couldn’t get himself off the ground that quickly could he.

“You swing on the left; I’ll do the right, and don’t cut my leg while you’re at it.”

What?

Dung. I’m really going into battle.