Emma and the Banderwigh Read online

  “I tell you, Beth. His patron spirit is the bare.” Nan clucked.

  Emma giggled. Mother seemed unamused.

  “He takes after his Mama. You know, girls, after baths, your mother used to run outside―”

  Beth glowered, throwing the wet apron over Nan’s head. “Mother!”

  Nan laughed herself to tears.

  As the girls dried themselves and put their dresses on, Mother stalked off in search of the runaway boy.

  “Hang the lot outside, will you?” said Mother. “Tam, come here this instant! Get down from there!”

  Against the backdrop of running and laughing deep within the house, Emma, still mostly wet, tugged her less-than-favorite dress in place and gathered up an armload of wet clothing. Kimber took the rest, and they went out onto the planking behind the house. The back porch was a less grand affair than the front. It stood off the ground at only the height of a single stair, and held a small table and three chairs, two of which rocked. The girls dropped the clothing on the table and Emma dragged the stable chair over so she could reach the clothesline.

  Summer was fast approaching. Warmth had settled into the wind, which lofted the fragrance of meadow flowers and made securing the wash on the line a chore. Already, the town buzzed with anticipation for the upcoming festival of Zaravex. As far as Emma knew, it involved lots of cakes and candies for the kids and three days’ worth of people making noise late into the night. For some reason, the grown-up ladies seemed to be wearing a lot of flowers in their hair around that time.

  An orange and red sky settled behind Widowswood, bringing the fireflies to prominence over the grass as the sun faded. Emma ran her fingers through her hair, flinging water and letting the breeze dry it. She got down, slid the chair to the left, and climbed up again. Kimber handed her each piece in turn; soon, wet clothes filled the line.

  Laughing, Tam bounded out of the house in a sky blue tunic and went off in search of glowing bugs. Mother leaned on the doorjamb, folded her arms, and smiled at the three of them.

  The girls hurried along at their task, eager to finish before the sun was gone. Mother walked over and shooed them into the field, taking over the rest of the chore. Emma and Kimber leapt off the porch.

  “Time for bed soon,” called Mother.

  “Yes, Mother,” replied both girls at once. They exchanged a glance, and burst into giggles.

  With at least a half hour left before dark, they dashed off into the waist-high grass, chasing fireflies. The waning light seemed to vanish much faster than Emma wanted it to, as they caught and released glow bugs before going off in search of more. Tam was determined to find the biggest, best glow bug of all.

  “It’s dark,” said Kimber. “We should go inside.”

  “Yeah.” Emma leaned her hands on her knees to catch her breath after running over. “Tam?”

  No answer.

  Emma stood up on tiptoe. “Tam?” she repeated, louder.

  “Tam!” cried Kimber.

  Snap.

  Both girls spun at the noise from the tree line. They had gotten rather far from the house and could see into the woods. Something moved. Kimber cupped her hands to her face and called for Tam again. Emma froze in place, trying to find the shadow she knew she saw. When Kimber touched her arm, she screamed.

  The sudden reaction made Kimber cry out and clasp her hands over her mouth.

  “W-what?”

  Emma opened her mouth to answer, but the darkness moved again. She pointed. Now crying, she called out. “Tam! Where are you! I’m not playing.”

  Snap.

  Kimber gasped, that time she heard it too. She clung to Emma’s side, shivering. “Wot’s ‘at?”

  “M-maybe it’s Greyfang.” Emma didn’t believe her own words.

  “Who’s ‘at?” asked Kimber.

  “A nice wolf.”

  Kimber scrunched her nose. “Wolfs in’nae nice. ‘Ey bite.”

  Emma studied the tree line. The shadows held malice. Whatever lurked in the dark wasn’t a wolf.

  “T-Tam?” She spun around. “Kimber, g-go home before it comes after us.”

  “Rawr!” roared Tam, leaping out of the tall grass with his hands like claws.

  The girls both shrieked.

  He fell over, laughing. Emma pounced on him, gathering two fistfuls of his tunic and shaking him. Her hair fell around her like a curtain of night.

  “By the gods, Tam! Don’t do that to me!”

  He went pale, terrified of the look on her face.

  After a lingering glare, she pulled him into a hug. “I’m sorry. You scared me.”

  Crack.

  She jumped, dragging her brother around to put herself between him and the woods.

  “Why are you mad? You beat the Bandy-wee.”

  Emma backed away from the trees, seizing her brother and sister by the hand. She wanted to run, but her legs would not move. All she could do was stare into the dark.

  “Tam? Kimber? Emma?”

  They tugged on her arms, but she felt rooted in place. Mother’s voice scratched at her fear.

  Tam yanked harder. “Em, Mama’s calling.”

  Emma blinked, shaking her head. “W-we should go.”

  Mother gathered her dress and left the porch, looking worried. Emma squeezed her siblings’ hands and pulled them into a run for home, not once daring to look behind her. Mother let her pass, lingering for a few seconds to peer into the forest before following the children back into the house.

  mma shot bolt upright, grasping at the bars of a cage that did not exist. Finding herself at home, in bed, she sat for a moment, shivering and clutching the blanket to her chest. When it sank in she was safe, she rolled over and squeezed Tam until he gave her a “what are you doing?” glare. Kimber had migrated into the spot where Mother usually slept, limbs spread every which way as though she’d fallen out of a moving wagon. Mother had rolled into the void left by Father, who was nowhere to be seen. Probably in the outhouse. Emma crawled out of bed, giving up on any chance she would she be able to get back to sleep.

  Besides, it would be morning soon.

  She rummaged through the huge chest at the foot of the bed until she found the dress Nan made. Off came her nightdress, and she wriggled into the beloved garment, clinging to it as if it would protect her from what she’d felt last night. After wearing her new clothes for a while, it felt too small on her, but she didn’t care. Nan, also awake before the sun, was in the process of gathering fruit and bread for the morning meal. Emma scurried over to help. It did not take long for the old one to notice the fear in her.

  “Spiders in your dreams again, Em?”

  “No.” Emma lifted the great wooden bowl with both arms, too big for her fingers to touch on the other side. “I saw something in the woods last night.”

  “What was it?” Nan raised an eyebrow, following her to the table with a loaf of bread.

  Emma set the bowl down and pushed it to the center of the table. “Dark. I didn’t exactly see it, but I knew it was there. Something wanted to hurt me.”

  Nan picked at a few wiry grey hairs on her chin. “A boar perhaps? Certainly, the goblins wouldn’t dare get so close to town.”

  “It wasn’t goblins.” Emma went back to the pantry for the cheese. “It sounded too heavy. I don’t think it was an animal.” She set the block down by the bread. “It felt like…hate staring at me.”

  “Hmm.” Nan pursed her lips. “I suspect that’s why Beth went out. I don’t think she found anything.” The old one shrugged. “If she did, she hasn’t said a thing.”

  They set the table and laid out the breakfast meal. Minutes later, sunlight leaked over the horizon, the rays soon bright enough to make Emma’s squinting eyes water.

  Father thundered in through the front door, stomping and clattering in full armor. He took the broadsword from his belt and leaned it on the wall, heading for the table. His boisterous arrival woke Tam, who sat up and stared blank-faced at the wall.

 
“I swear on Belephir’s sweaty ba―” He glanced at Emma. “I swear… The next time Glinn and Dorran decide to get into a drunken punch-up at two hours till dawn, I’m going to charge them with destruction of property.”

  “What property did they destroy?” asked Nan.

  “My sleep.” Father sat and leaned his elbows on the table, raking his gauntlets through his hair as he leaned forward. “Em, what are you doing wearing that rag?” He downed a half-stein of water in one swig. “I thought we agreed to keep it for sentiment only.”

  Tam crawled off the bed and trudged over.

  “She had a fright, Liam.” Nan ambled over and patted his brigandine pauldron. “To her, it’s no different from this.”

  Father chuckled. “Must be something special about it… I can’t imagine how it’s not fallen to pieces, old as it is.”

  Tam tugged on Emma’s arm. “Pee.”

  Emma bit her lip, looking at the window. Early morning sunlight sparkled through the thick, uneven glass, fuller now. She took him by the hand and walked him to the privy. This time, she went in with him before he could slam the door in her face. She turned her back on him and locked the door.

  “You a’scared?”

  She let her head sag against the rickety wood. “Yeah.”

  “Me too,” whispered Tam.

  The family gathered around the table for breakfast. Mother glanced at Father with worry in her eyes―he ate as fast as he could without choking. Tam poked Kimber in the side, starting a tickle war. Emma couldn’t stop thinking about the way the forest made her feel. It couldn’t be true. The Banderwigh was gone, not to return until she was Nan’s age. It could not possibly be coming for her again.

  She stared over her bread at Kimber’s bright green eyes as the girl raised a knee to block Tam’s hand. No, it wouldn’t come for her. It wanted her sister. It knew Emma wouldn’t give in, and Kimber had been too broken before to be a tempting target. Now that she was happy, it could hurt both of them by taking one. Emma scowled at her plate. She wouldn’t let it win. She was ten years old now. Two younger kids needed her protection.

  “What did those berries do to you, Em?” Father chuckled. “You look like you want to smash them flat.”

  She blushed. “Nothing.”

  He stood, leaning left to kiss Mother, and right to pat Tam on the head. He ducked between the girls, with an arm around each of them, and planted a smooch each atop their heads. Kimber looked up at him with adoration on her face.

  “I’ve got to go on patrol.”

  Mother scrambled out of her seat, racing to the special cabinet. Emma slid off her chair and ran to Father’s blade where he had left it leaning on the wall. She wrapped her arms around the scabbard, grunting with its weight. The scent of weapon oil tainted the taste of her half-chewed mouthful as she brought it to him. Mother handed him a leather-wrapped bundle: elixirs to keep him strong, awake, and fast.

  He ruffled Emma’s hair and went outside with Mother. Emma waited all of ten seconds before she scooted out of her chair and snuck over to the door, leaning the side of her head against it. Kimber soon appeared next to her, almost nose-to-nose. Emma held a finger up in a “shhh” gesture. Kimber nodded.

  “I don’t like this, Liam,” said Mother. “Something doesn’t feel right.”

  “You worry too much, Beth. It’s just local bandits. The man looked a lot worse than he was.”

  “The caravan lost two men. Bandits don’t often kill the merchants; they want to rob them again the next time they come through. He was barely alive, and did you see what was done to the horse?”

  Emma gasped.

  “I don’t know, Beth. Something’s got them riled up. It might be pressure up north. Mercenaries from Calebrin and Andor are moving against highwaymen all over Andorath. Activity has been picking up as of late and it’s got the King’s ear. You know his favorite way of solving any problem is to throw enough kingscoin at it to bury it. This poor sot might’ve just made the mistake of only having four guards.”

  “What if it’s mercenaries from Namriel?” Mother sounded worried. “The Talethians have been eyeing Andorath for a long time.”

  Kimber bit her knuckle, trembling. Emma held her hand.

  “I rather doubt that. The Talethian Empire has already overextended itself. You should hear all the stories that come out of that place. Faeries in the woods, indeed.”

  “Aye, strange thing about stories. Sometimes, they’re true.”

  The sound of a kiss made Emma cringe.

  “This is bandits, maybe something what strayed in from the north. We’ll be fine.”

  Her mother sighed. “I don’t like the idea of you traipsing about in the forest looking for trouble.”

  They were quiet for a moment. Both girls made icky faces as sounds gave away an obvious long kiss.

  Father grumbled. “I’ll be fine. It’s not as if I’m going alone, there’ll be twenty of us. Braddon’s insisting on it.”

  “Why doesn’t he go with you, then? If it’s so important.”

  Emma grinned at the look she knew Mother wore at that moment: chin raised, eyes flaring, hand waving.

  “Because he is the mayor, and it’s his job to tell―”

  “Nonsense. He’s a coward.” Mother’s voice dropped to a near whisper. “Just…be careful. Em’s riled up about something and you know how the girls in the family can get.”

  “Well, then I’m not too worried. Small girl, small problem. If your mother was in a tither, I’d lock myself in the wine cellar at Eoghn’s.”

  Mother laughed. “It’s not like some sort of scale, you know.”

  The girls cringed at the sound of another kiss, and scampered back to the table. They looked too innocent when Mother walked in. Nan found the crumbs on her plate fascinating. Mother slipped into her seat, gaze down and hands bracing her forehead, thick curly hair falling onto the table.

  “Don’t be afraid, Mama.” Emma moved to her side. “It’s not after Da.”

  mma came to a halt at the back door, leaning on the wall to catch her breath. She swept her hair out of her face and managed a half-hearted smile, watching Kimber and Tam running about in the meadow. The sky over Widowswood glowed with a dozen shades of orange and purple; it would be dark soon. Emma got three steps into the house before her smile collapsed. Mother still sat at the table, arms crossed in her lap, staring at the front window. Little of her supper had been touched; most of it remained on the plate. To the right, Nan’s muttering echoed out of the hallway leading to her tiny bedroom.

  Mother had not slept the first night Father failed to come back from patrol. When another day passed without sign of him, she’d donned her traveling clothes and cloak and spent the day searching the woods, finding only goblin blood, which Nan collected. The old one had asked every bird and critter she encountered, yet none of them could find the missing guards. It was as if the forest had swallowed them whole.

  Now, after three days, Mother looked as though she’d given up hope. Emma knew what she felt out there; she sensed the hate in the dark. Only fear that the Banderwigh had returned―for her―kept her from being as upset as Mother.

  “Mama?” Emma tiptoed over, resting her hand on the woman’s shoulder.

  She said nothing, but reached up to grasp Emma’s arm and stared at the front door.

  Tears knocked on the inside of Emma’s eyelids from the expression on her mother’s face. Emma knew something was wrong, and moved in front of the chair.

  “Mama, you didn’t eat anything.”

  “What has become of your father? None of the men have been found. Not one. No tracks. It’s as if they never were.”

  Emma drew in a breath to answer, but held still. The floor became awash with heavy, frigid air, growing colder without apparent cause. Numbness spread through her feet and crept up her legs. Dread left her staring without words for a full minute. Her sudden sprint for the door startled a gasp from Mother. Emma ran to the edge of the back porch. A thick mist fell
from the trees of Widowswood, surrounding their meadow in a curtain of white. Her brother and sister ran about among tiny, dancing dots of light―oblivious to what was coming. Emma leaned as tall as she could and held her hands to her mouth.

  “Tam! Kimber! Come inside.”

  Kimber slowed her playful run to a trudge, and looked towards the house. Tam stopped in place, waving his arms.

  “Did Mother say we hadda come in?”

  Emma looked down, curling her toes over the edge of the wood. “No, but I want you to come inside.”

  He laughed and kept going.

  “Tam, please!” She stomped. “Something’s wrong.”

  Kimber jogged up alongside her. “What’s happened?”

  It’s got Father. Emma gulped and kneaded her dress. “Da’s not returned yet. Mama’s worried something’s happened. I don’t like the way the air feels. It’s too cold.”

  Kimber hugged her.

  The wind picked up, lofting hair red and black. Kimber squinted into the breeze, out toward the forest. Emma stepped onto the dirt beyond the porch, but the other girl wouldn’t let go. Fear was contagious.

  “I don’ae see nothin,” said Kimber.

  “It’s not the seeing.” Emma cupped her hands to her mouth again, shouting, “Tam! Now!” She took a step back. “It’s the feeling.”

  Kimber squeezed her.

  Tam held his arms out to the sides, waving them up and down. “What? The sun’s not down yet.”

  “I’m gonna put him in a sack,” muttered Emma.

  Kimber yelled over Emma’s shoulder. “Tam, please come in.”

  With both girls against him, he hung his head and came trudging back to the porch in a winding, back-and-forth path. At each turn, he balanced on one leg for a moment before nearly falling sideways into the next bit of walking. He wore a face as though he’d been sentenced to a month of nothing but turnips and broccoli. As soon as he got close enough to grab, Emma seized his hand and pulled him into a hug. She pushed him past her onto the porch, and guided both children inside with a hand on their backs.

  His grumbles stopped at the sight of Mother’s forlorn stare. He flopped on the rug by the fireplace to reenact the slaying of Shrub Dragon for the hundredth time. Emma reached up, secured both latches on the back door, and tested it. Confident it was locked, she went to the table and cleared the dishes. Kimber helped, and soon only one untouched plate remained.