The Outlaw King: The Line of Kings Trilogy Book One (6 page)

Chapter Thirteen

Tarn
passed his fourteenth birthday shovelling crusted snow from the first floor
entrance of the farm house. Spring was round the corner and the work around the
farm was all toward the coming rains and the birthing. New lambs would be born,
the fields would clear and the grass would once again become feed.

            Tarn
toiled and ate. A spurt of growth during the winter meant Molly had to make the
boy new leggings. They were loose things, made of spun wool.  Tarn hadn’t the
heart to ask for something new. They itched like crazy, but he thanked her and
wore them each day without complaint. He was not given to complaining. He had a
full belly and work to do. He was as content as he could be.

            He
thought of Rena often, and wondered how her winter had been. With the snow
clearing, he thought each day of making the trip out to Rena’s mother’s hut in
the woods. Soon, he would go and visit her, perhaps ask her to walk with him.
Gard gave him no time free though. Tarn did not mind. He was not a shirker.

            For
ten days no snow fell.

With
spring came rain and the promise of new life. For Tarn, however, there were no
romantic notions. He was ankle deep in mud most of the time. One day the rain
stopped, and Carious and Dow shone between the clouds. Tarn and Gard stopped
work on the fence around their fields, and turned their faces to the sky.

            ‘Let’s
take a rest, Tarn. I think our first sight of the suns for three months
warrants a break.’

            Tarn,
soaked and sore of hand, agreed.

            ‘We’re
nearly there. We should be finished tomorrow.’

            'I
think you’re right, boy.’ Gard saw Tarn rubbing his hands. ‘Your hands have
grown calloused, eh?’

            ‘Yes,’
said Tarn. ‘I’m like an old carpenter.’

            ‘Worse
things to be.’

            ‘What,
like an old farmer?’

            ‘You
watch yourself, or you’ll never get the chance to be an old anything.’ Gard had
not thought to ask the boy what he wanted to be.

            ‘I’m
a bit thirsty, big man. You must be parched.’

            Gard
sucked his lip thoughtfully. ‘I don’t suppose it would hurt to go back to the
house for a bite to eat and some refreshment.’

            Tarn
smiled hopefully. Gard laughed. ‘We’ll go back to the house. But only for a
drink and some cake, mind. It’s not time for lunch yet.’ He knew the boy needed
food. Hell, Gard needed food. He didn’t begrudge the boy his food breaks. It
was his belly talking, after all. So long as the boy had food in his stomach
Gard knew he would happily work all day without tiring.

            ‘Do
you want a piggy back?’

            ‘I
don’t think you could carry me,’ said Tarn, lengthening his stride at the
thought of some cake and a glass of milk.

            Gard
tried to clip him round the ear, but Tarn skipped out of reach.

            As
they neared the house, now totally free of the remnant of the long winter, Tarn
could hear voices. He looked at Gard, and Gard shrugged at him.

            ‘I
don’t know who it is. Why don’t you go and see?’

            Tarn
ran up to the door and pushed it open. To his surprise Molly sat at the table
in the kitchen and opposite her, Rena. She wore a red dress and her hair free.
Tarn noticed her feet were as muddy as his, but for some reason her hair wasn’t
wet. He didn’t think to ask her how she walked through the rain and stayed dry.

            He
stood dumb for a moment, until Rena broke the silence for him.

            ‘Hello,
Tarn. I came to see you but Molly gave me a drink first. I was thirsty.’

            Tarn
finally found his tongue. ‘Rena! I thought about coming to see you, but I’ve
been so busy.’

            Gard
finally managed to clip him round the ear. ‘You could have asked to go, you
know. I didn’t know you had a girl.’

            Rena
blushed.

            ‘She’s
just a friend,’ said Tarn a little too hurriedly.

            Molly
and Rena gave Tarn a look that he couldn’t quite fathom.

            ‘Well,
I’m sure you two would like some time alone, wouldn’t you? There’s cake. Help
yourselves. Come on, Gard, don’t just stand there like a lummox.’

            ‘But
I’m thirsty, woman.’

            ‘Come
on!’ said Molly, exasperated, and dragged a complaining Gard out of the
kitchen.

            Now
Tarn had Rena alone he didn’t know what to do with her.

            ‘Well,’
he said. ‘I guess it took you a while to get here.’

            ‘I
couldn’t very well walk through the snow.’

            ‘Oh,
I didn’t mean that!’ said Tarn. ‘I meant today.’

            ‘Oh,’
Rena blushed again. Tarn wondered why she blushed so much. Come to think of it,
his scar felt hot. He wondered if he was as red in the face as she.

            He
sat down because he didn’t know what else to do.

            ‘How
was your winter?’

            ‘Hard.
Not many people came to visit. Everyone just stays in the village during the
winter. A bit lonely to tell the truth. I thought about coming to see you, but
mother wouldn’t let me out in the snow.’

            ‘It
was a bad winter.’ Tarn smiled at her. He felt embarrassed, but he thought he
could say it. He swallowed and finally said, ‘It’s good to see you.’

            Rena’s
smile lit up the room.

            The
two of them walked around the farm and out into the woods. They spent the day
talking about the winter, and about Rena’s mother, Mia. Tarn spoke about Gard
and Molly, but Rena did not ask where Tarn came from, for which he was
thankful. It was the most enjoyable afternoon of Tarn’s short life. His heart
felt light for the first time. He didn’t worry about the future at all, just
enjoyed each moment with Rena. After her initial embarrassment she turned out
to be funny and warm, and perhaps even more mature than Tarn. She told him she
trained to be a witch like her mother, and could name every flower they
happened upon in the woods.

            Tarn
didn’t want the day to end, but eventually he knew he would have to walk Rena
back through the woods.

            The
walk took two hours, and by the time Tarn got there, his feet were aching. He
knew he had to get back soon, or he would be walking in the dark. He declined the
offer of a cup of spiced hot water, knowing Molly would have food and drink for
him when he got back.

            ‘Thank
you for walking me back,’ said Rena, at the door to her hut.

            ‘Thanks
for coming to see me. I’ll come to see you next.’

            Rena
nodded. As Tarn turned to go, she grabbed him with enthusiasm and kissed him on
the cheek.

            ‘Bye
then!’ she blurted and dashed through her door.

            Tarn
stood there for a moment, then walked off with a light step.

            He
got back in full dark. Molly and Gard didn’t say a thing, but just watched him
eating his evening meal with knowing smiles on their faces.

            Tarn
fell to sleep and it was the most peaceful night since his father’s death.

*

Chapter Fourteen

Tulathia
was a more accomplished witch than Rena. But she was also older. She felt the
cold more keenly. She wore a thick woollen cloak, and carried a heavy pack on
her curved back. Necessity dictated that she walk. A proper witch never rode.
Beasts were not to be taken for granted.

            Winter
had been hard on Tulathia. She could make fire easily enough, but the wood she
used was damp or covered with snow. She could not burrow into the frozen earth
for the roots she needed for sustenance, and the tree bark she used to make
teas and stews with did not grow in the south of Sturma. Over the course of
three months she walked nearly the length of the country, camped for a whole
month with no way of making it through the massive drifts. She thought the
journey might have taken a few years off her life. Such journeys were for young
heroes, not old women with arthritic hips. She welcomed spring with a wisdom
born of age and the need for warmth.

            Tired
to her deepest bones, she reached the Wherry. The village was much like other
villages Tulathia stopped at on her way south. She asked for directions in the
village to the nearest witch’s home, and was directed with a small amount of
suspicion and a healthy amount of respect to Mia Terene’s hut, a mile north of
the village. The villagers knew better than to get involved in the dealings of
witches, and did not question her on why she wanted to go there. Even the
children knew a witch. She carried herself with a superior air, and though her
back was crooked, she still had the knack of looking down her nose at people.

            She
made the final mile after sunset, not wanting to make camp so close to her
final destination, and knocked on Mia’s door in the black of night.

            The
door to the hut fitted badly enough to let a draft through. Tulathia thought
she would have to do something about that. Her own hut was out in the woods –
no matter how much a witch’s people feared or respected her, it always made
sense to keep your distance. The mystery was part of a witch’s power. It would
not do for her people to know she relieved herself in the woods like everybody
else.

            The
door creaked as Mia opened it. Tulathia was impressed. Mia was a stunning
woman. Thick red hair with soft curls, full lips, full hips. Tulathia could see
herself all those years ago when she had been young enough for brave men to
lust after her. But it was a witch’s lot to be solitary. It was a hard life for
a beautiful woman to chose.

            ‘You
must be Mia.’

            ‘And
you must be Tulathia. I have been expecting you. Come in.’

            Tulathia
didn’t have to duck to get through the door. The roof was turf, apart from the
smoke hole, and a fire burned in the centre of the hut. A pot boiled over it,
and as Tulathia placed her pack on the floor and sat with her legs straight
out, Mia turned her back and poured a drink for the two of them.

            ‘I
have a room spare for you. I will build something larger when the summer
comes.’

            ‘No,
girl, you won’t. You’ll have someone build it for you.’

            If
Mia took umbrage at being spoken to like a girl she showed no sign.

            ‘I
have always looked after my own affairs.’

            ‘And
no doubt been curing ailments in the village for the last twenty years. No,
girl, you are owed. You might not accept payment apart from food and respect,
but sometimes a witch needs more. It is time the people here came to understand
that you are not their right. You think I speak too plainly, for one that
doesn’t know you?’

            ‘I
think no such thing, old mother.’

            ‘You
do, and you would do well to say as much. I will be here for a while yet, and
we better start out as we mean to go on.’

            Mia
put the cup down before Tulathia and sat across the fire from her.

            ‘Very
well,’ she said, and smiled, ‘you are welcome, and this is our home. I do not
know why you have come but I understand it must be important. I know you will
stay here for more than a year yet, but you will not tell me how to be a witch.
I have been a witch long enough to know my own mind. I keep apart from the
villagers because it suits me well. I would not be beholden to any man, for
they fear what they do not understand and I will look after my own affairs.’

            ‘That
is to your credit, but sometimes even a witch needs help. Why do you think I am
here? I know enough to ask for it.’

            But
you won’t ask, thought Mia. And I will give it just the same.

            Tulathia
looked round as she heard the scrape of one of the doors in the hut on the
wooden floor. A bedraggled looking girl of thirteen or fourteen years with
curly blonde hair emerged from the side room and rubbed her eyes, then looked
unabashed at Tulathia.

            Tulathia
stared for a moment too long.

            ‘I
did not see a daughter.’

            ‘No
one can see everything,’ said Mia with a smile. ‘Welcome our guest, Rena. She
will be coming to live with us.’

            ‘Welcome,
old mother,’ said Rena, widening her eyes to clear them of sleep.

            ‘Well
met, child,’ said Tulathia with a kind smile, which looked like a grimace on
her wizened face. She had not imagined that a witch would have a daughter.

            ‘Go
back to bed, daughter,’ said Mia. ‘There will be time enough for questions in
the morning.’

            ‘Goodnight,
then,’ said Rena, and closed the door behind her.

            ‘A
beautiful child,’ Tulathia remarked. ‘Does she have the gift?’

            ‘That
she does.’

            ‘Hmm,’
she said, but did not explain. ‘I will sleep now. In the morning we will talk
more. I am old and weary. Here will be fine.’

            That
said Tulathia lay down on her side, and within minutes snored loudly.

            Mia
took the old woman’s cup and sighed to herself. Life was about to get
interesting. 

*