Tale of a blackbird, p.8
Tale of a Blackbird, page 8
He returned to find her still beside the fire. Kye placed the chest on the table and pulled out the parchment. He reached over and picked up the quill, dipped it, and began writing out a seal of passage. Kye lifted it and wagged the parchment. “It’s all written up, ready to go, and all it needs is your letter, but first, how about that information.”
The woman strolled over and opened the chest, checked the decently sized purse filled with coins and nodded. “Und-ar-Felt has moved his main force to the south and is by now well past these mountains. He left smaller forces to draw you out to the east and north.” The woman took the quill and dipped it again, then signed her name.
X.
“Markova,” growled Kye, who shook his head and tried to keep his tone level. “He’s fallen for it. He took the best fighters north with him.”
“The Golden Fool, hmm?” smiled X.
“Indeed… You’re sure you want to go by that alias again? Until things are cleared up with the ministry, any officers might be on the lookout for you.”
“That’s what an escort’s for, right? Besides, I’m sure you’ll send a message to Nefaro, letting him know you hadn’t been betrayed? That his plan for revenge is still in-tact.”
“What kind of man do you take me for? My business is my own, as well you know.” Kye smiled and went to pour them both a goblet of wine.
“Here’s to wine and fire,” smiled X.
“And bad aliases… You really should just pick a name.”
The woman leaned close, fire writhing in those crystal blue eyes, then looked away, smirking. “Names are for friends, Kassova. I have no time for friends in this world.”
Chapter 11: Out of the Frying Pan…
All around was endless grass, grass and more grass. No, wait, there was flies. And grass. By the Gods Birdie was saddle-sore, and tired, and hungry. The prolonged riding had left her stiff-legged and sore in the behind when she would walk. Luckily the man had packed food and water, she’d been only nibbling at the dried meat and biscuit, and the horse needed more water than her. She looked up at the sky, pale blue stretching into the horizon.
By the Gods, let it rain.
Her saviour had also packed warm clothes for when the nights grew chilly. And cold they surely were. At night she would talk to the horse, telling him of days spent in the cottage and the woods. Once she’d seen a dark fleck moving in the distance, but it soon faded.
The land became rockier after the fourth day, the ground grew coarse and the misty air stung at her face like icy pin-pricks. Small pebbles grew to rocks and then to boulders, making her zig zag between outcrops, following the little-used and lesser kept road along steep ridges. Vegetation was scarce, the animal bones scattered along the road spoke how scarce, and she cursed her idle mind for not considering taking grass with her in the pack. The horse ate what little they found, and it seemed to be just enough to keep it going.
At the moments when she grew weary and considered lighting a fire, the thought of what it might attract made her settle to sleep in the darkness. Nightmares awaited her when sleep finally came. Of Aunt Bella, and the woman, Ariss. There was nothing to do now but press on, no matter how lost she felt. No matter what life threw at her, she would keep going.
She would get to Mala and find her uncle Maddox.
She would make her aunt proud of her.
She would… She would probably die.
How could a life spent in the woods have prepared someone for this? She didn’t know how to survive in mountain ranges. Didn’t know which roads to stick to, where the dangerous ones led. Beyond the mountain ranges patrols would be common. Bella might’ve trained her to fight, but she didn’t bloody teach her how to become fucking invisible.
And like this her days went. Filled with self-doubt, panic, then the stubbornness set in and she simply focused on the horizon, ignoring her fears.
Find that inner peace.
That’s what Bella would’ve said, so Birdie ignored those doubts.
They wouldn’t put food in her stomach, after all.
As the ground became steeper, with veering drops at times from landslides in places, and rock falls at others, she led the horse by its bridle, calming it where the path grew narrow. Coming to a bridge that spanned a chasm below, she breathed in and imagined the crisp smell of blue pine sap, the sound of the soggy moss squashing underfoot, and birds twittering overhead. The sounds of the forest filled her mind, and her calmness seemed to spread to the horse, as it quieted its whinnying.
She was just going home. Going back to her Bella and the little cottage. To a warm fire and steaming, spicy trailhead soup.
By the Gods her mouth was watering.
Idling in this daydream, they crossed the bridge unscathed. Looking around at the sheltered pass, the first thoughts of making camp began to form in her mind, but she fought them off and held onto the fleeting images of the trees, of home. She guided the horse further into the pass, and was still playing with these memories, when a voice called out to her. “Don’t take anudder step, we gorten ye serrownded!”
Three men appeared on the rocks above. Three appeared behind her and three ahead. Cursing her daydreams, she glanced around but couldn’t see a way out. There wouldn’t be anyone to help her out of trouble this time. No Bella, no Ariss, no stranger to steal her away into the night.
“Shit-balls...” she muttered.
Keeping her arms at her sides, Birdie made no move for her knife. At the men’s orders she raised her hands, feigning surrender, but growled as she jumped onto the horse. Her foot missed the stirrup, but she managed to cling on to the horse’s mane. Birdie bounced along, feeling every jarring bump against her sore arse.
An arrow shot past and bounced off a slab of rock, so she kicked her heels into the horse’s ribs, managing to slip one foot into a stirrup, driving the heel of her other foot into a bandit’s face, sending his head snapping back.
“Get back here ye little bitch!” A voice shouted from behind. One of the men jumped out of the way just in time, but the other stayed where he was, grinning as he swung his axe. He swung low, aiming to maim the horse, but the horse jumped well, knocking him off-balance, breaking bones with a crunch as he fell under hoof.
They were past the men, storming through the pass, arrows flitting by.
She was untouchable. She wasn’t afraid anymore, fucking bandits. Who did they think they were? She was Birdie Black. She was going to make it. She was—
An arrow thudded into the back of the horse’s skull with a hollow whump, and the horse stumbled for another few strides, but its legs buckled and Birdie was flung from the saddle, tumbling across sharp stones. Rolling to a stop, she cursed, pushing herself up and on without a backward glance. Thankfully the footsteps chasing her sounded far behind. Her heavy breathing and the crunch of her boots against gravel soon drowned out the chaos. The path veered off to the left and up into the pass, but Birdie left it behind and struck off up a rough path of her own making, and into the mountain, knowing that every step might just be her last.
Like a cloud, her feet glided over uneven surfaces, leaping boulders, bounding across the rocks like a shadow. The adrenaline pumped through her body as she pretended she was simply running through the woods.
It’s just another day of training evasion, no danger, just a simple game with Bella.
Her heart thumped against her ribs, feet slapping against rock, breath hissing in her ears. The path stopped rising and narrowed, then came to a sharp turn, which brought her to a series of steps, or more a miniature mountain of rough, square rocks working a way upwards. She wasted no time and jumped the first one, and then the next, climbing a big rock, scraping her wrist bad on a jagged bit sticking out, but there was nothing to be done about it.
Birdie lost track of time as the steps blurred past, not even noticing when she came to the end and finally pulled herself up. Flatland lay far off below in the distance, just visible between the high cliffs flanking both sides of the view. A winding path brought her down towards a maze-like network of passes. Birdie turned back and saw the bandits slowly making their way up after her, but still a way off.
Birdie shouted down at them and gave them the finger, before turning and fleeing towards the passes.
* * *
Birdie woke to the sound of footsteps outside the cave.
“She’s gotta be ‘round here somewhere.”
The bandits must have closed the distance as she’d slept. Birdie hadn’t been able to keep up the pace and had found a cave where she huddled inside of, just to get an hour sleep and regain her strength.
“That bitch is gonna get it, broke Ergon’s leg.”
“Boss said to take her back to camp, so no funny business. Not unless you wanna be dropped off a cliff like Sid.”
Her pulse raced, heart beating almost loud enough for them to hear.
“See that?”
“What?”
“A cave, there. You think…?”
“Aye, I think she just might.” He spoke louder. “Girl, if yer in there, come out now. Won’t hurt yer.”
The other man stifled a giggle.
“Shuddup, will ye,” he hissed quietly. “Come on out girlie, there’s naught reason t’be afraid.”
The footsteps came closer; Birdie could hear one of them breathing heavily, panting almost. Torchlight flickered on the mouth of the cave. Silently, slowly, Birdie got her knife ready.
If these bastards were going to try and take her, she would make them pay.
A shadow appeared, wobbling from the torchlight. The first man then, in front of the other holding the light. He came into view, creeping past, not noticing the tiny alcove of rock that Birdie had squeezed her small frame into. She let him pass and the other man appeared. The torchlight made her squint, but she took aim, those countless hours of anatomy lessons and killing points taught by Bella rushing through her mind.
Always go for the neck if it’s vulnerable, sever one of the main arteries and the fight’s finished.
Birdie pounced out and on him like a wildcat. He turned, raising the torch to see what was making that sound, and her knife-arm got pushed askew, making her catch the man in the side of the neck instead of opening up an artery. The blade sliced through useless flesh. Birdie held on to his shoulder with her free arm, clinging to him, bringing the blade back around and aiming blindly for the far side of his neck. He brought his free hand up just in time and it stabbed through the palm, but she’d put all her strength behind it and the man was unbalanced. Her knife pinned his hand against his neck.
He dropped the torch and clutched at the blade as Birdie let go of him, abandoning her knife, but quickly noticing and snatching the long-knife from his belt. The other man faced her with a mace in his hand, but his face showed no sign of threat as he watched his comrade drop to his knees, trying staunch the blood spurting between his fingers.
She’d been lucky.
First rule of defence, Blackbird, always run if you can.
Birdie turned and ran out of the cave. More torches bobbed in the distance, moving closer as the remaining bandit shouted for backup.
“Shit-balls,” she hissed, trying to get her bearings of direction as she fled through the dark. The ground was uneven, little light thrown down from the two moons faintly visible behind thick clouds. Birdie felt her way down through the narrow pass, slowly descending the rocks. Ignoring the shouts and gruff voices, Birdie focused on the path ahead, the path to safety, or at least the path away from certain death.
* * *
Morning light crept over the passes. Birdie knew that the valley between the twin mountain peaks led east. Following the sunrise, she stumbled on tired legs, held herself with shivering arms tighter, and prayed that the men had given up in their pursuit.
But she knew better.
It was hard to remember how many torches there’d been. Perhaps a dozen, likely twenty. The lack of food and sleep rendered little help to her thinking. What she was running on now was pure and utter instinct, sprinkled with a little desperation, and a cherry called fear. The maze-like passes were a far-cry from her days spent training in the woods, but without it she would have been dead long ago. Scents and landmarks were non-existent in this terrain, sources of food even scarcer. Those large birds that circled overhead did not look appealing. More than likely they were eying her up for a meal. She didn’t like the look of them at all, unless roasting over a crackling fire, that was.
Her stomach rumbled and panged at the thought of hot meat.
“Gods-be-damned, I’m hungry.”
A man came trudging into view. He was filthy, covered in dust and dirt, hair wild and dishevelled. Luckily he hadn’t spotted her yet, and was facing the opposite direction. Crouching down behind a rock, she peered around it, watching him. The man limped closer, his leg supported with a splint. Birdie ducked down and flattened herself against the rock.
It was the man her horse had landed on.
Great.
She let him come closer, his footsteps just at the far side of the rock. Silently she crept around the other side, praying that she wouldn’t make a sound. On the far side, she peeked around the rock, watching the man limp away. Birdie looked up the narrow pass at the way he’d come, the urge to run in that direction almost overpowering. But instinct moved her feet, guided her hands, and she crept after him, keeping her feet away from knocking against any stones. Mere steps away she readied her knife.
You go for the knee, you’re small, Ariss’ voice drummed through her mind alongside Bella’s. Slit the tendon. Once they’re down, they’re out.
The first rule of defence was to run, but if she could take one of them out of the chase, why not?
Birdie took aim and slashed the knife into his good leg, right down to the tendon behind the knee, followed by a quick and well-connected kick into where his bad leg looked worst as he stumbled. He wailed as he hit the floor, but Birdie was already turning, leaving the man to die alone, as he rightly deserved.
She once again set off east, following the rising sun towards the Bone Portcullis.
Towards her future, if she still had one.
* * *
By noon Birdie found herself at the end of the mountain passes. She had bumped into one more of the bandits but had managed to lose him awhile back. The path down from the passes was steep and uneven. Thankfully there were dozens of exits from the pass, all hundreds of feet from each other, and none of the bandits were waiting for her outside of the one she came to.
There was little chance that they would leave the passes, just to chase her. The roads bordering the pass were supposedly well patrolled by the Golden Circle.
I really have to stop laying so much faith in hope… My luck will only hold out so long.
But hope was all she had.
Any river or stream she came across had dried up. Trudging along the rocky landscape, following the overgrown trail, it was hard to know whether the thirst, hunger or pain from the long journey drained her energy the most. By midday the sun was unmercifully hot, searing into her eyes, her mind. Every smothering breath felt like it would be her last. Every thumping heartbeat sent black spots fizzing through her vision. Legs and arms were now nothing more but lumps of lead that she had to drag along with her. Picking out a scattering of rock stacks, she made her way along the path, surrounded by cracked dirt that disappeared into the distance. The large birds from the passes had reappeared, circling her once more. A gang of them.
“Shit... balls,” her parched throat croaked.
Approaching the rock stack, Birdie’s foot clipped an unseen stone, sending her face-first into the dirt. Plumes of dust rose around her as she hit the ground.
By the gods she was tired.
Birdie let her head rest on the rough ground, let her heartbeat even out, and slowly regained some morsel of strength. Flapping sounds grew louder from above as the group of birds landed nearby, sensing their meal was almost served. She eyed them. They eyed her back, the dark bulbous eyes filled with hunger and sharp beaks promising pain. Closer they came, and the bravest of the group ventured a nip at her shoulder. Then the beak nipped into her scalp, sending a trickle of blood down the side of her face.
“Go away…” she whispered.
Birdie’s hand snatched out, grabbed the bird under the beak and she slowly started choking its scrawny neck. Or did in her mind, at least. Her body failed to follow the events of her imagination. Even the act of keeping her eyes open seemed a burden too heavy to maintain. They nipped at her, one ripping at her lower leg, another at her arm.
“Go… Go away… Puh… Please.” She flapped a hand, barely able to lift her arm, but the bird just scuttled sideways and eyed her closer, aiming for its next shot.
The world grew dim then, blurred at the edges, and the ground spun slowly beneath her.
Was this death?
After everything she’d survived, the thing that would finish her off would be the sun and… birds.
A sound came from somewhere beyond comprehension. Far away, like creaking giant trees on unseen glades which echo throughout the forest. Her mind was cloudy. It grew louder, and she opened her eyes to see the birds flapping away from her, taking wing back to the sky. As the ground began to vibrate along with the grumbling sound, Birdie could hear singing, but couldn’t understand the words. The grumbling stopped, footsteps approached. Birdie felt hands grab her, turning her over.
“Drink this,” a woman’s voice. A kind voice. A flask was put to her lips, warm liquid brushed against her lips, dribbled down her chin, but she couldn’t remember how to swallow. “Drink this or die, girl!”
Birdie let the fluids pour into her mouth and down her throat.
It was bliss. Torturous, choking bliss.
The world slowly came into clearer focus. An old woman smiled down at her, face as weathered and cracked as the desert floor she lay on. “Good, do you feel better?” croaked the old woman.
