Chapter 2
Gorta and Taven kept to the heavily wooded areas as they headed due East. They’d ventured ahead of the scouting party in an attempt to save time and streamline the process of locating the village they’d been told lay to the East.
“Surely we’ll find it soon,” Taven said as he knelt and splashed cool, fresh water from the river over his face and neck.
“In truth, I believed we’d find it by now,” Gorta admitted.
“Perhaps it’s not real,” Taven said.
“It’s real! I saw the riches they gifted to buy the freedom of their leader’s son.”
“Maybe, they’ve moved, then. For safety’s sake.”
“It is more likely. If I knew my people were at risk, I’d move them if I didn’t have the forces to protect them. But there’s got to be something left behind to show where they were, and where they went,” Gorta said.
“Shall we continue searching, then?”
“Yes, and when we locate them, we’ll leave them be, but come back with my warriors. If they’re smart, they’ll give us what we want and not try to fight,” Gorta said. He knelt beside the river as Taven had and cupped his hands together to drink handfuls of water to refresh himself. Only moments later they heard the snap of a twig and soft footfalls that were almost drowned out by a melodic hum.
“You hear that?” Taven asked, reaching for his claymore.
“I do, get to the trees until we’re sure what it is,” Gorta said, grabbing his battle axe. He took a moment more to splash water up onto the imprints they’d made beside the river to hopefully wash away proof that someone had knelt there, then hurried to join Taven as they sprinted into the trees. Standing in the shadows they waited silently to see who was coming their way.
Taven canted his head just slightly as the individual responsible for disturbing their morning respite at the river came into view.
The female was tall for a human, the top of her head would nearly reach their shoulders. Her hair was a pale ginger, her skin freckled from the sun, but dirty, stained by dried mud. Her clothes appeared old and torn, ragged even, like they’d seen better days and were dirtier even than her arms and hands were. She carried with her a clay pail with a heavy piece of wood as a handle, and carefully set it beside her when she arrived at the river’s edge. She kicked her shoes off and knelt at the water’s edge, swirling them in the water to clean them before she set them carefully beside her pail. Her clothes were next; she removed them one piece at a time, but rather than swirl them in the river, she waded in, completely naked and took the time to give them a good scrubbing. Every once in a while she’d lift them from the water and examine them closely before submerging them again and scrubbing away at them some more. Once she was satisfied they were clean, she made her way back to the river bank, climbing out of the water and moving up the bank’s incline a little to carefully spread her clothes on the grass to dry. Then she hurried back down the steep incline toward the water, grinning the faster she went until she plunged into the river, shrieking as the cold water enveloped her naked body once more.
Taven took one step toward the river, planning on taking hold of the woman, but Gorta reached out a hand, stopping him from going any further.
Taven quickly met Gorta’s gaze.
Gorta gave his head a quick shake, and Taven being the obedient warrior he was, despite being Gorta’s best friend, accepted his Chieftain’s order not to approach.
She headed toward the deepest part of the river and ducked her entire body, head, hair and all beneath the water’s surface.
Gorta, tried to stand a little taller to better see, not sure if he should be going after the female or not. Just about the time he’d decided he might intervene, she burst from beneath the water, throwing back her head as the water streamed down her face, and flowed from her hair into the air behind her by several feet from where she stood in the middle of the river, just barely keeping her chin above water. They watched as the female swam against the current for several minutes before turning and allowing the current to carry her back down to the spot she’d left her belongings. Still treading water in the river’s center, she took the time to look around herself, appreciating the beauty of everything she saw. She examined all parts of the river bank, on both sides, then looked up into the treetops and the sunlight that filtered down through them. Her eyes then seemed to be drawn to the spot where Gorta and Taven had knelt to drink from the river, and after a careful examination of the trees at the edge of the woods on the opposite side of the river, she began to swim for where she’d left her pail and clothes.
Climbing carefully out of the water, she threw several glances into the woods on the opposite side. She reached for her clothes, but found them still wet. Glancing around herself again, paying particular attention to the opposite shoreline and the woods beyond it, she seemed convinced that no one was nearby. Returning her attention to the wet blouse and skirt she held, she tossed them into air, where they promptly reached their highest point and seemed to fall back to her in slow motion, the steam from the moisture leaving her clothes wafting away from them as they gradually made their way back to her grasp. The female caught them, smirked a little at the now dry fabric and quickly slipped them on. She shook her shoes out, the remaining water seeming to fly from them like rain drops, but horizontally, before she slid her feet back into them and grabbed her pail. The female submerged the pail at the water’s edge, all the while watching the trees on the opposite side of the river, then satisfied that it was full, carried it with her back up the river bank presumably on her way to whence she came, taking up the tune she’d been humming when Gorta and Taven first heard her coming toward them.
Once she was gone, and they’d given her a short while to leave the river’s edge, Taven’s gaze left the spot he’d last seen the female and he focused on Gorta. “Did you see that?”
“Yes. Now we follow her.”
“She’s a witch, Gorta! She’ll give us the evil eye!”
“Which is why we don’t approach her. But we will follow her. Perhaps she’ll lead us to the village we seek.”
“Villages don’t allow witches to live within their borders. They fear the curse all witches can bestow.”
“Unless they look like that one. Did you know she was a witch before she dried her clothes?”
“No, I cannot say there was any indication until then.”
“Maybe they don’t know she’s a witch,” Gorta said. “And if she belongs to the village, she’ll take us to the very thing we search for. We’ll follow her, see where she’s going, then I’ll decide what’s next.”
“You can’t be serious. If we frighten her, she’ll curse us,” Taven exclaimed.
“I said I’ll decide, not you. You never approach her. Do you understand me?” Gorta growled.
Taven looked at Gorta curiously. Gorta was not only his Chieftain, he was his best friend. He knew him better than all others, and this was unusual. “I cannot allow you to risk yourself, Gorta. Our people depend on you.”
“Which is why I’m standing in the trees about to follow a witch to wherever she leads. And regardless of my actions, you don’t approach her. Do you understand?”
“I do, but why do you feel the need to say so?”
“You almost approached her while she was in the river.”
“That was before I knew she was a witch. I’m not in a hurry to be cursed myself, and neither should you be. I just liked the looks of her, but no more!”
“Good! Stay away from her! I’m simply using her as a means to an end. Common sense says she lives on the outskirts of a village. She’d have to for supplies and the like.”
“Who am I to question, then? Lead on my Chief. Let us see where she goes.”
~~~
Nora carried her pail of water with one hand while shaking out her wet hair with the other. She felt great, invigorated by her bath in the cold river. The fact that she’d noticed a place on the opposite riverbank that was overly wet had not escaped her notice. But there’d been no other indication that someone was there. It was possible that an animal had stopped for a drink and made a mess of the ground there. But there’d been no prints of any kind to confirm that. It was a river, though, not a carefully filled bowl of water and it had the capacity to splash and spill over its banks anytime the components were all right, it could only be that. She hoped, though, that it was Gorta who’d been there before her. It was the whole reason she’d been so flamboyant about drying her clothes. She wanted him to see, and for the magics she displayed to jog his memory. “I hope it was ye, me Gorta. I hope ye saw me, and I pray tah the Goddess that ye know me for who I am tah ye.”
She took her time walking along the path home, stopping from time to time to appreciate a flower here or there, to pick a handful of berries, or to harvest a cluster of mushrooms. Her intent was that if there was any chance that Gorta was near, she wanted him to be able to follow her home. When she finally arrived home, she used a little of the water she’d brought back to rinse her mushrooms, then put them away in the house for later. She spent a little time watching her surroundings while she puttered about the small clearing surrounding the house, then decided that she needed to at least fire the shotgun once or twice to be sure she knew how to use it when the time came. She went inside and retrieved it along with the bag and a few shotgun shells, then went back outside. She wandered around for a little while until she found what remained of a long dead tree. Walking back to the middle of her small yard, she inserted one of the shells into the shotgun, then lifted the gun, aiming it at the upper levels of the grayed, splintering tree. She looked down the barrel a couple of times and double checked the placement of her finger on the trigger before she aimed one final time and fired. One of the large limbs hanging from the tree fell and landed on the ground, breaking apart on impact.
The loud noise of the gun firing echoed through the woods around her, even sending Gorta and Taven to lay flat on the ground.
About the time they decided to get up and brave another look, she was loading another shell into the gun, took aim, and fired again.
This time neither of them lay flat on the ground, instead preferring to remain where they were to better see what was happening. Which meant they were able to see the tip-top of the tree teeter back and for before falling to the ground, its dried wood breaking apart just like the limb had.
Taven’s gaze met Gorta’s, his eyes wide and frightened.
Gorta held up a finger to let Taven know to remain quiet.
They watched as Nora examined the gun, loaded the last shell she was holding into it, and went back inside her hut.
She came out a little while later without the gun, and wandered around to the back of the hut. She eyed the stones she’d assembled to get on the roof the day before. Convinced that there was no chance that Gorta was responsible for the water marks she’d seen at the river’s edge, she focused on something that she could control, she threw herself into the rest of her day setting things right with her hut. She started by rolling the stones up against the exterior walls of the hut. After only twenty minutes or so of that, she decided that a little magic could get the job done much more quickly and efficiently than anything she was attempting to do. Using her hands to guide the small stacks of stones, she willed them to stack themselves against the outer walls just under knee high all the way around the hut. When she’d made her way all around the hut, she stood looking at her handiwork. She had only four or five stones left and placed them on either side of her doorway. Rather pleased with herself, she picked up her pail of water and returned to the small mud hole she’d made the day before to fill in the cracks in the sodden exterior walls, and after adding water, made another batch of mud. She then carried the mud by the handful over to the stone wall she’d just made and used it to fill in around the stones that didn’t seem to sit quite tightly enough. When she was done, she used a little more of the water to rinse her hands.
Satisfied she’d done the best she could, she looked around for anything else that could pass the time. Her mind immediately went to the circle of oaks. Having arrived via another route, she’d not yet found the oaks. In fact, she’d thought them non-existent, but maybe she was just in the wrong place. She looked at her hut. “I found ye, and ye’ll become the cottage our family grows from. And if ye’re here, maybe the oaks are near, too. They should be, the Fae started this whole thing years before any of the rest of this was supposed tah happen. But then again, I left home in the oaks and arrived miles from them.” She looked worriedly around the clearing. “It doesn’t matter. If ye’re not here, I’ll make sure tah get ye started.” Shrugging and mumbling to herself, she gathered her pail, and the large stick she’d used to stir her mud hole with, and headed off toward the river again.
“Did you see her, Gorta? She pointed her stick at the tree and it fell apart!”
“It’s obviously not a stick. It’s a weapon of some sort. It doesn’t threaten us because we don’t threaten her.”
“She’s crazy! She’s talking to the air like it’s going to answer!”
“She’s a strong witch, maybe it does answer her and we just can’t hear it!” Gorta said.
“She’s a dangerous female! We must go, and go now!” Taven exclaimed in a hushed whisper.
“She’s not harmed anything or anyone. She’s simply repairing her home,” Gorta said.
“And killing trees!”
“It was already dead. She didn’t attack a live tree, nor us.”
“That’s because she doesn’t know we’re here, if she did things would be different! And she’s doing all she’s doing with magic! She’s fixing her house with magic! All magic is a sign of evil! It’s why we’ve outlawed the use of even the Fae’s magic.”
“I know well why we’ve done what we’ve done. Do you forget who you’re speaking to?”
“No! I’m just concerned that my best friend has lost his mind! And she speaks in a strange manner!”
“Her words are enough like ours that it’s clear she speaks our language. She must have lived elsewhere before settling here. It’s the reason her words are different enough.”
“Gorta, use your head!”
“I’m using my head, and you’re treading dangerously close to angering me, Taven! I have my reasons for being here, and I don’t like being questioned by anybody, least of all someone who’s supposed to know me well enough to trust me!”
“So you still plan to interact with her!” Taven accused, his voice getting louder.
“No, I don’t. But I’m not convinced that she can’t lead us to the village. I’m going to stay and watch her a while longer, you go now before she returns. Do not tell anyone what I’m doing. Do not tell them about her! Matter of fact, forget you ever saw her. If you speak of her again, I’ll take it as a personal affront.”
“Then what am I to tell them? He’ll be along as soon as he recovers from the witch turning him to stone?”
“You tell them I’m searching for the village. I’ll return when I find it and lead them directly to it.”
“Fine,” Taven snapped, turning and walking away from Gorta. He stopped about fifteen feet away and turned back, his scowl clear as he looked Gorta in the eye. “How long would you like me to wait before I come back to drag your carcass back to our people?”
Gorta shook his head slowly. “I know you’re worried, but there’s no reason for it. I’ll be along soon. Maybe even tomorrow. Just keep the scouting party where they are and I’ll be there in a day or two. I want to be sure we aren’t dismissing the possibility that the witch can lead us to the village we’re looking for, then I’m as anxious to leave here as you are.”
“Three days, Gorta. Three days, then I’m coming back for you.”
“Don’t. If she’s turned her weapon on me, you’ll end up the same.”
“Then we’ll be dead together,” Taven snapped before he turned and strode away.
Shaking his head again, Gorta remained hidden in the trees as he sat and waited for Taven to move steadily away, and the witch to return with her pail of water. While he waited his mind wandered, wondering what possessed him to stay to watch a female he’d only just discovered. What made it even more unusual was the fact that he cared enough to learn more about this female. Of course, there was the possibility that she might actually lead them to the village they searched for, but at this point, he didn’t give a damn about the village. It was the female herself. It had been a long, long time since he’d had interest in any female. Even the human that Blarque had brought into their midst hadn’t tempted him. She’d been beautiful, and different, and brave. Her wit had him grinning a few times as he protected her from Blarque and anyone else that tried to gain her attention before she’d chosen her male. He could have easily taken her for himself, but he didn’t want her. Hadn’t wanted any since the death of his wife and the tiny girl child that had never even had the chance to draw her first breath.
At the thought of the wife and child he’d lost, he felt the familiar gut punch that always came with the memory. But it wasn’t quite as forceful this time. It was softened just a little, and didn’t seem so final. Somehow there seemed to be hope for life beyond it now. He marveled at the subtle shift in his emotions and subconsciously looked off in the direction the witch had gone with her pail. “Could it be you that has changed me already?” he asked. Stepping out of his hiding place he set foot on the path the witch had taken, it was time to find out more about her.