The Chronicles: Three Sisters 03

THREE SISTERS Chapter 3

We slept like the dead. I did, at least. When I awoke, it was near dusk.

- "I kept watch, Daddy." whispered little Guenna.

Every part of my body clamoured for attention. My arms and legs ached; my chest, ribs and stomach were so badly hurt that I could hardly breathe - much less move. My mangled fingers and gouged-out eye socket throbbed with pain worse than any I had ever felt.

But we could not stay where we were. I had to find shelter for us, away from the more travelled parts of the lake. Water was readily available, but food would soon become an issue.

Yevna was already awake. Tanguiste stirred when I shook her, gently, but it took the sound of my voice to rouse her.

- "We have to move. We need a place to hide."

In the last remaining light, we went north from Piran's Point, towards the looming bulk of Beska. I had the sword in my left hand, for all the good that might do. The girls carried the other weapons, and followed me without complaint.

A crevice between two boulders was the best I could find.

***

There was no immediate pursuit. We couldn't see across the lake, of course, but no boats ventured out onto the water.

I did find a reasonable place to lie up - a cave on the lower slopes of the mountain. It was a long way to the lake, to fetch water, and there was no way out, if we were ever trapped inside.

But it didn't smell of bear, and it faced east, so that we could risk a small fire, for cooking, or for warmth. Our first meal, though, consisted of nothing but raspberries. Fortunately, there were plenty of those.

I had much to think about, but caring for my daughters came first. I made Yevna sit down in front of me, at the edge of the lake, and examined her mouth.

As I feared, she had done irreparable damage to her teeth and gums. I washed the dried blood from her chin, and made her rinse her mouth several times. Saltwater would have been best, but that wasn't an option. If I could find some honey, I would give it to Yevna, first. In the meantime, I could only hope that her bleeding gums would not become infected.

Tanguiste showed the same concern for my eye. I couldn't see it - but it must have been horrific. My ten year-old daughter washed the gore from my face, and kissed my other cheek when she was finished. She even managed a smile.

That night, as we huddled in our cave, she had a question for me.

- "Why did Povilas and Guithrit do ... what they did?" she said. "Why did they turn on us?"

- "They were traitors! Carrion!" spat Yevna.

I sighed. Part of me wanted never to speak of that night again. As a father, I wanted to protect my girls from such thoughts. If I could have, I would have wiped the memory of what happened from their minds.

But that wasn't possible.

- "Povilas blamed me for his father's death, Tan. He wanted revenge."

- "But it wasn't your fault." she said.

- "It might have been. I didn't realize what kind of man Lanko Nadesti was."

- "I don't think it was your fault." said Tanguiste. "There was no way for you to know that. And when Eguen was killed, you stood up to the Nadestis."

- "Even if Povilas had a grudge, Guithrit didn't!" said Yevna.

Tanguiste didn't reply. Instead, she looked to me.

I could only shake my head. "I have no answer, Tan. Your grandfather knew that many people are cruel, and self-seeking. But even he would have been surprised by Guithrit's betrayal."

We were silent, for a while. Again, it was Tanguiste who spoke first.

- "I can understand, in a way, why Uncle Bacho hates you." she said. "But not this much. Why didn't we know?"

- "I'm not sure." I said. "He hid it well, I suppose. Maybe we all wanted to see him in the best light. His father was a good man, and your grandfather's best friend. We hoped that he would be the same."

- "That doesn't explain why he did ... what he did."

- "No, it doesn't, Tan. I have no explanation for that."

She looked away. For a brief moment, I could have sworn that she was looking across the lake.

- "And there's no defence for Kestutis, is there?" she said.

- "No."

- "He's a piece of excrement." said Yevna. "He's the shit you step in, by mistake - and then you scrape it off the bottom of your foot."

"He's a braggart, and a bully. He's cruel, too. He would smile at you, Papa, and ... Mama. But then he would torment Iarn. And me. He was always trying to make me cry."

I was shocked. Not that Bacho's son could be cruel - but that I hadn't known.

- "Why did you never tell me this?"

Yevna shook her head. "You told us not to carry tales."

- "I meant your brother. And your sisters. I didn't want you to tattle on them."

- "I know." said Yevna. "But Iarn said that it was something we had to handle on our own. Besides - if we had told you, what could you have done?"

She was right. I wouldn't have taken kindly to Bacho punishing my children. And if I had complained to him that his son was bullying my children ...

My eldest daughter saw my confusion, my dismay.

"It's alright, Papa." said Yevna. "I'm going to kill him - unless you do it first."

***

We caught a few fish, scooping them out the shallows with our hands, and flinging them on to the shore. Yevna was good at it; she had the required combination of patience and quick reflexes.

My man Vidlo had strung his snares in a few spots on the north shore. He wouldn't be coming to check them, anymore. I found a marmot caught in one of his traps, which made a decent meal for us.

Otherwise, we ate raspberries, and bunch berries, wood sorrel, and water lilies. I showed my girls how to peel open a cattail, and we caught frogs together. I used every opportunity to teach them the skills they would need to survive.

- "Never clean a fish within 100 yards of your campsite - unless you want to attract a bear." I told them.

Tanguiste learned about the healing properties of the sap from a spruce tree, when she burned her hand in the fire. Once Guenna discovered that moss made decent bedding, she became an expert at gathering it.

For quite some time, I couldn't find my bearings. Not in terms of geography - I knew the northern side of the lake reasonably well. But I felt lost, trapped between times.

I was stuck in the past, mourning my wife, and my son. I regretted the passing of fallen friends. And I tried to understand how Bacho could have hated me so deeply, so violently, without any of us knowing it.

But I also worried about the future. The near future, that is. Would Bacho and his men think to come looking for us here? Beyond that, winter would soon be coming. I wasn't sure that we could survive it, in a cave on Mount Beska.

The present was built around my girls. I practiced with the sword in my left hand every day, until I was fairly certain that I could hold my own against an angry seven year-old. I was willing to lay down my life to protect my daughters, but I wanted that sacrifice to mean something.

- "Can we pick some flowers today, Daddy?" asked Guenna.

- "Of course we can." I said.

I had a vivid memory, of my youngest asking a similar question, not very long ago. Her mother had overheard both the request, and my reply.

'Should you always say yes to her?' asked Meonwe. 'Aren't you afraid that you might spoil her?'

'No.' I said. 'There will be times - too many times - when the answer will be 'No'. But this isn't one of those.'

Guenna picked flowers, while I kept my eye open. A little after mid-day, I had to call a halt to her expedition.

- "What is it?" she asked.

- "They're coming, Sweetheart. We have to hide."

There were two boats, with five fighters in each one. They were too far away for me to distinguish individual figures. The first boat veered off, to land at the tip of Piran's Point. The second continued on, until it came ashore at the northern end of the tiny peninsula. It was a sound plan to trap us.

If we had been hiding anywhere near Piran's Point, they would have found us. I couldn't fight five men - even if I had both hands. There was no alternative for us except to lay low, and pray that they didn't come any further north.

They didn't. But if they returned the next day, and the next, they would eventually find us. We had no choice but to move.

The western end of the lake was too close to Bentwood, Bacho's home. We would have to go east, around Mount Myeva. Then we would face another choice: to continue east, into the forest, or to swing north of the Three Sisters.

The forest was a trackless wilderness. There were men who lived in there, little better than wild beasts. Worse, perhaps. There were rumours that they still filed their teeth, and ate their own kind. I couldn't swear to the truth of these stories, but I wouldn't risk my daughters in the forest.

I would try the northern slopes of the Three Sisters. It was unknown territory to me, but Bacho was unlikely to look for us there. The girls followed me without question. We were slow, limited by Guenna's little legs. But she was a sturdy little girl, and didn't tire easily.

We skirted Myeva, high up. It was rough going, and the footing was sometimes treacherous. There were fewer stunted pine on Myeva, too, and so less cover. Far below, we could see the north-eastern end of the lake, and the river which flowed down to the edge of the forest.

There were more trees on the northern side - I have no idea why it was so. We were able to come down the slope, into cover, where I felt much safer. We heard a stream, long before we saw it.

- "Papa." said Tanguiste. She pointed.

There was a man, lying on his back near the edge of the stream. Something about the way his legs were bent suggested that he wasn't sleeping.

I caught Yevna's eye, and pointed to the ground at her feet. She understood immediately, and crouched down. I did the same for Tanguiste. She had to see Yevna crouching to understand. Little Guenna, bless her, lay down on her stomach right away.

On my own, I approached the man. As I drew closer, it became apparent that he wasn't going to move. His throat had been slashed open. There was a great pool of blood behind his head, because of the slope of the land.

His clothing was rough, but well-cared for. He was young - probably not 20 years of age. His beard was neatly trimmed. He had no weapons - or, more probably, whoever had killed him had taken them. On a hunch, I turned him over.

There was a hole - a puncture wound - in his back, like an arrow wound. The poor fellow had been ambushed, shot in the back, and then finished with a knife.

He had a curious bracelet of leather. The thing was worthless - except to him, I suppose. I took out my knife and cut it from his wrist. Perhaps someone who'd known him would recognize it. I rolled him onto his back again. Then I waved the girls forward. They had seen dead bodies before - and this wouldn't be the last one.

- "Tan." I said, softly, motioning her to come over. I looked her in the eye. "You mustn't call out like that. If you see something, get my attention, and give me a signal. Whisper if you have to - but don't cry out. You understand why?"

She nodded. "I'm sorry, Papa."

- "Who killed him?" asked Guenna.

- "I don't know, pet." I said.

- "He looks nice." she said.

- "He's dead, Guenna." said Tanguiste.

- "I know. I mean, he looks ... I think we would have liked him, when he was alive."

- "What an odd thing to say." said her sister. "But ... I see what you mean."

- "How long has he been here, Papa?" asked my youngest.

- "His body isn't warm - but it's not quite cold, yet, either. His clothing isn't damp. I think he was killed earlier today."

Yevna caught my attention. She had found tracks. From the number - and location - of the footprints, we decided that there were three, or possibly even four men who had lain in wait behind a fallen tree.

- "Cowards." spat Yevna. "Three of them, and they were afraid to face one man."

I couldn't argue with her conclusions.

We had to be extra careful. Three or four men who would stoop to murder by ambush could be very dangerous, if we were to run into them.

The girls were becoming very good at moving quietly. I went first, with the sword in my left hand. I went slowly, for the sake of Guenna, who came next, with Tanguiste right behind her, carrying the axe. It was heavy for her, but I wanted the bow in Yevna's hands. She was our rearguard. In an emergency, I wanted her to be able to get off an arrow. She didn't have the strength to pull the string very far, but even if she didn't hit her target, an arrow might slow an enemy - or a predator.

We crept through the trees, climbing uphill as we went. Less than an hour later, I saw a plume of smoke through the trees.

I knelt, and motioned the girls forward. One by one, they advanced and stopped next to me. I pointed.

- "What do you see?" I asked.

- "Smoke." said Tanguiste.

- "What kind of fire is that?"

- "A cooking fire." said Guenna. "Or a chimney."

- "Most likely. But it could be a campfire." I said. "Whatever it is, we have to be twice as careful."

We circled the source of the smoke a bit, to approach from upslope.

There was a rough cothouse built into the side of the hill. It had two walls of earth and rock, and two walls of loose stone and wood, with a roof made of mixed branches and thatching. Smoke was curling upwards from a hole in the roof. There was a large pile of split wood piled against one wall. It was a humble dwelling, rougher than most of the houses south of the lake.

Was it the home of the killers?

It might just as easily be the home of the murdered man. And my children were cold, and hungry. I listened to my instinct, and stepped onto the level ground.

- "Ho, the house!" I called.

It took some time, but a voice answered me - a woman's voice.

- "Who are you?"

I hadn't planned an answer. Instinct guided me once again, and I told the truth.

- "My name is Veran, and I have three cold and hungry children with me. We mean you no harm." I added the last bit as an afterthought.

There was a pause, before the woman answered.

- "I have two strong sons. They will be home soon."

- "We mean you no harm." I repeated. "But there are bad men about."

Another pause.

- "How do I know that you aren't one of them?" she said.

- "If those three were here, I think they would have already battered your door down." I said. "But I will show you my companions." I waved to my girls.

Yevna had the sense to take the arrow from her bow. Tanguiste tried to carry the axe in a non-threatening manner. Guenna came to stand directly in front of me.

The door opened. The woman was old, grey-haired, with great furrows on her brow. Even from where I stood, I could see that her hands were as gnarled and twisted as mine. Only her eyes still had something youthful about them.

But this woman was worn down, by age and hard work, by hard living. She took in my mangled face, and my missing eye, but she didn't stare.

- "You're ... you're not with SmallFoot." she said.

- "Who?"

- "Rymvi SmallFoot. No - you couldn't be." The old woman looked at Guenna. "Are you hungry, little one?" she asked. ""Come in. Come in, all of you. There's a fire, and I have soup." She turned, and extended her arm, in a gesture of invitation.

Tanguiste led the way. "Thank you." she said. "That sounds wonderful."

The inside of the cottage was rough, but there were a few touches that showed that these people were trying - trying hard - to better their lives.

There was a table, with four stools, carved with care and some skill. There was a strong fire in the hearth, and a large cauldron sitting on a rock ledge, just above the flames.

On the far side of the room, an elderly man lay on a bed of moss and straw.

- "My husband." said the old woman.

- "My name is Veran." I said. Then I introduced the girls.

- "Pleased to meet you." she said. "I'm Moruith. This is Miek. He ... he isn't well."

Tanguiste and Guenna immediately went over to the old man's bed, and knelt on the floor beside him. I was amazed - I had never taught them to do this. It must have been Meonwe's influence - or their own innate kindness.

I heard a sniffle, and glanced at Moruith. She was watching my two youngest daughters. A great tear was rolling down her cheek.

The old man stirred.

- "Mor ... Mor - can you see them? Malach ..." He tried to raise a hand, but was too weak.

Tanguiste gently took of his hand, and raised it to her cheek.

- "Malach ..." whispered the old man.

I was rooted to the spot. 'Malach' was an old word, in the Uplands. My mother would have said 'Malch', but the meaning would have been the same.

Little sister.

This sick, dying old man must have been reliving his youth. He believed that my daughters were his younger sisters, come to collect him, or to comfort him in his final moments. Moruith may not have been pleased to see how far his mind had wandered, but she could see how much it meant to her husband.

She fed us a thin broth, with root vegetables, tubers, and little slivers of meat. The girls set to with a will, while Moruith tried to get her husband to eat a little. We were all thus occupied, when the door opened, and a young man stepped in.

He was short, and stocky, and carried a long-handled axe. He frowned at the sight of us.

- "It's alright, Inisian." said Moruith. "These are ... guests." She hesitated a moment, as if she had to search for that word. I supposed that it was not often used in these parts.

The young man looked me over once again. He relaxed only slightly. "Excuse me." he said. "Mother - Teph didn't meet me. I couldn't find him."

Now the old woman looked even more concerned.

- "Where is he?" she asked, her voice wavering.

- "Who is Teph?" I asked. "Your brother?" I directed my question at the young man. I had that terrible sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. "Please - can you describe him?"

Inisian didn't know what to make of my question. "What?"

"The girls and I - we came across a man earlier today. Down by the stream. He was dead. And he was wearing this -" I produced the strange leather bracelet, and passed it to Moruith. "Do you know it?" I asked.

Poor Moruith. She was in the midst of watching her husband fade away. Now I could tell, from her expression, that she had just lost a son as well.

Inisian saw it, too. He came over, for a closer look. Without a word, he bent over and wrapped his arms around his mother.

I backed away, to give them space.

- "Oh, no." said Tanguiste. "I'm so sorry ..."

It was more than uncomfortable. We had intruded on another family's pain - their sorrow. I have no idea how we would have reacted - the girls and I - had we encountered someone else so soon after the night of ... after that night.

Some feelings can't be put into words. Some experiences can't be shared. From the expressions on my girls' faces, I could tell that they were learning those lessons. I went over to each of my daughters, from youngest to eldest, and hugged them tight.

Poor Inisian. He had long hair, and tufts of down on his chin and cheeks - obviously his first attempt at a beard. His older brother should have told him to shave it. Nothing announces youth and insecurity more surely than those first sprouts of soft hair.

Now he had to deal with a dead brother, and a dying father. He was just beginning to realize that he was his mother's sole support.

There was a shout, from outside the house.

- "Inisian!"

The young man's head snapped up. His eyes searched for the axe he had dropped, when he went to comfort his mother. I had a sudden premonition.

I leapt to my feet, and placed my foot on the axe, before he could snatch it up.