Emma and the Banderwigh Page 9

  He sat up at the noises, hiding his face in her chest. Emma wrapped her arms around his head, kissing and staring over his hair into the trees, squinting in the direction of the fracas. She wanted to be ready to run if a goblin broke through and came after them, but she was so tired. Her urge to stand succeeded only in causing one foot to slide forward.

  One of the high-pitched voices let loose with a phlegmatic wail. Emma could almost see clumps of spit and drool flying from the creature’s panic-stricken face as it yelled. Despite being in a foreign tongue, it was repeated several times―an unmistakable command to run away. She cradled and rocked Tam for a moment without saying anything, giving him another kiss atop the head.

  “They’re gone.”

  Tam looked up at her. “Kay.” He looked around before resting against her shoulder. His fear at being lost wavered his voice. “I wanna go home. Which way is it?”

  “I…” She shivered; she had no answer. “Umm.” Don’t cry. Just go east. She stood, waited for him to get up, and took his hand. “East.”

  They moved away from the tree, Emma walking with craned neck to look for the sun.

  A large raven swooped by so close it startled a yelp out of her. It circled around before alighting on a branch a short distance away, and tilted its head at her. She gazed at it for a silent moment. It looked like the same bird as the one that showed up at Kimber’s pitiful home. Don’t be silly. It’s a raven. They all look the same. The bird hopped around, showing its back, and flew to the next tree. It angled its head back at her and squawked.

  It wants me to follow it. Emma blinked. How do I know that? First wolves act strange, now birds?

  “Okay,” she said, swallowing. One tentative foot touched the grass before the raven flew to another, more distant, tree.

  Tam looked up. “Wha?”

  “I’m talking to the bird.”

  “Oh,” said Tam, taking it in stride. “Mama talks to them too.”

  Emma shot him a look. “She does n―”

  “She does. ‘Member you called her sillyfeathers?”

  An involuntary giggle slipped out. “Yeah…”

  Emma, come.

  She blinked. The voice in her mind sounded like Nan. Hesitance gone, she broke into a run, following the raven. It glided ahead, alighting on a branch some distance away. Before she caught up to it, the bird flew again, going from tree to tree until the sound of her own name shouted by men rang through the woods. One of them sounded like Father.

  “Father!” she yelled. “We’re here!”

  “There, that way,” cried a man. “I heard a child.”

  Kavan?

  Emma halted. Running in circles would only make it take longer. She remembered father telling her that. Stay in one place. Wait.

  “We’re here!” She jumped up and down, waving her arms. “Da!”

  “Papa!” shouted Tam, grinning.

  “Emma? Tam?”

  Definitely Father.

  Branches and twigs crushed and cracked. Motion caught her eye to the left.

  “Daddy, I’m here,” she yelled again.

  Six armored men, dressed in the blue cloaks of the Widowswood Village guard, emerged from the brush. Arnir, the eldest, had a smear of green ooze on his thigh. Emma’s sprint for her father slowed to a stunned stagger. Is that goblin blood? That wasn’t a dream? Powerful arms scooped her off her feet into a crushing hug that jarred the thought out of her mind. An instant later, Tam joined her. She cuddled into her father’s arms, crying tears of joy.

  “Thank the gods,” he said, kissing them both.

  Emma hung there, happily enjoying being a child carried by her father. In his arms, the woods did not scare her anymore. The search party collected in a line and trudged until they found a path, which they followed among the trees.

  “Damndest thing I’ve ever seen,” said Kavan.

  “Indeed,” said Arnir. “Wolves attacking goblins… What’s the world coming to?”

  “Aye,” said Kavan. “An’ they dinnae run at us!”

  “At least we ‘ave some stories for the Inn.” Filner clapped his leg.

  Emma smiled at Kavan, grateful for all their help. She let her gaze wander over her father’s shoulder at the trees receding into the distance. The large wolf peered out of the foliage. She no longer felt afraid of him, and waved. It bowed its head and darted off. A yawn forced its way out of her and she rested her head against the warm, leather-covered armor. Father squeezed her and kissed atop her head once again.

  Greens and browns passed, viewed as a blur through half-closed eyes. She did not know what to believe any more. The Banderwigh was real. Goblins did exist, and for a reason she could not begin to grasp―wolves did not feel like eating children.

  Father carried them back towards town. Tam was sound asleep before they walked out of the trees and onto the dirt path. Emma stared at the receding woods, but gasped when a light brown patch caught her eye amid the green at the side of the road.

  In the grass, about twenty paces from the forest, lay an abandoned apple basket.

  espite her protests, Father carried Emma down the trail to their home. A handful of people who saw their approach stopped what they were doing to look at her. The relief on their faces at her safe return created a warm spot in her heart, and deepened her worry about Kimber. One woman ran off, presumably to tell the entire village Emma and Tam had been found safe.

  Father strode onto the porch and set Emma down first. Her feet touched the boards, but she stayed on tiptoe trying to climb back into his arms.

  “Da, it’s taken Kimber! It let us go, but it took her.”

  “Your Mother would have had my head if I didn’t bring you home straight away.”

  “We have to go back,” wailed Emma. “It’s got her! Her basket was by the trail.”

  He set Tam down, and took a knee, brushing her hair around her face and leaving his hands on both shoulders. “Em, do you know where this supposed creature is? What do you expect to do if you find it?”

  She stared up at him, eyes brimming with tears, unable to think of anything to say. Frustration hurt as much as the guilt she felt at being safe while Kimber sat in a little hanging cage.

  Her best answer came out as a desperate whine.

  The boy scampered inside, yelling, “Mama!”

  Father stood, pivoting her to face the door with a gentle hand at her back. “Your mother and I were sick with worry. Nan thinks some critter got you.” He chuckled. “Thank the gods you’re safe.”

  Disappointment showed in his face, though he seemed too happy to have found her alive to scold her. Emma started to pout at her feet but wound up squinting at him with a determined expression.

  “We didn’t run off. Tam had ta pee in the night and the Banderwigh took us.”

  Father straightened. “Emma… You’re rarely given to being false with me.”

  She folded her arms and frowned at the woods. The large raven overflew the house, swerving into a dive as if to land in the open space behind it. “I don’t want it to keep her. She’ll be like Hannah when it lets her go.”

  “It?” Father kissed her forehead. “I’m not angry with you, Emma. If you got lost in the woods, you can say so. I give you my word you won’t be in trouble as long as you promise never to run off like that again.”

  “I didn’t get lost. Why would we get out of bed in the middle of the night and go into the woods? The Banderwigh took us! It put us in cages that can’t open in a house with no doors out in…” Emma blinked, realizing how nutters she must sound.

  “You and your mother.” Father shifted his weight back and glanced at Widowswood. “You both have some vivid dreams.”

  “Da. I’m not lying.” She held her ground, not blinking. “I didn’t believe it either before.”

  He scratched at a few days’ worth of beard.

  Emma sulked. Father had to punish people who lied all the time. He knew lies. The unsettled look in his eyes said he didn’t think she w
as fibbing. For whatever reason, he couldn’t grasp the truth. She sighed; an uneasy smile was as close as he’d get to saying he believed such a story.

  “Captain Dalen,” shouted a guardsman as he jogged up.

  “Yes, what is it?” Father shooed her into the house and closed the door, which pushed her forward another step.

  Mother had Tam in her arms, seated by the kitchen table. Emma offered a weak smile, staring down at her muddy feet. She remained with her back pressed against the door, listening.

  “Ol’ Man Arden’s dead,” said the guardsman. “Was found in ‘is bed this morn.”

  “Arden Drinn?” asked Father.

  “‘Ow many Arden’s we got in the town?” The guardsman’s dry chuckle seeped through the door.

  Emma swallowed, eyes wide. Kimber’s dad? The man who bruised her face, beat his own daughter, and forced the girl to sell apples to buy wine was dead?

  “Em, come here,” said Mother, waving her closer. “Why do you look so sad? You’re home.”

  She ran into her mother’s arms, sniffling. “The Banderwigh’s taken―”

  Mother grabbed Emma with her free arm and pulled her close, kissing her atop the head. Seconds before it seemed she would faint from being unable to breathe, Mother relaxed and sniffled.

  “Oh, Em. I thought―” Mother squeezed her again, fighting sniffles.

  Voices outside, muted by the closed door, grew quiet; the guards passed the window and walked away down the street. Emma stared down, ashamed of herself for being safe while the little red-haired girl suffered.

  Nan emerged from the rear alcove, hurrying into the house brushing her arms, sending a handful of black feathers fluttering. Emma gawked. Nan walked without her cane, over to a side table where a small glass bottle sat in a bowl of herbs, by a dagger and two molten candles.

  “You’re getting careless, Beth.” Nan plucked the glass bottle from the bowl, dashing its contents into the cook fire.

  The room flared with a rush of warmth and the smell of sweet, fermented fruit. For a few seconds, the fire tripled in size and turned purple.

  Mother stroked Emma’s hair. “You should’ve seen the poor girl. Em told her she could come by for food. He would’ve killed her eventually.” Emma gurgled as Mother’s hug grew tight at the thought. “The wretch laid his hands on Emma. Left a bruise on her face from cheek to chin.”

  “Yes, yes. Reckless, but good intentions. All things considered, she handled him well enough.” Nan put her fists to her hips. “Well, he won’t hit anything anymore, now will he?” Her tone was almost teasing, at the same time scolding. The old one set about cleaning the contents of the table, clucking her tongue.

  “It’s fine, Mother. The bastard had too much wine. He just drank himself to death.”

  Emma glanced from one to the other as they spoke, barely breathing, suppressing the urge to giggle at her mother using a naughty word.

  “Must have been some strong brandy.” Nan grinned, sniffing the bowl. “Faeberry?”

  “Nan,” said Emma. “The Banderwigh got Kimber.”

  The privy door slammed outside; bad memories made Emma jump.

  “Easy, Em. Why so twitchy?” Mother fussed with her hair.

  She had not yet found anything to say by the time the back door creaked open. Kimber crept in, eyes downcast, shaking as if afraid she’d be yelled at for making the slightest sound. Purple covered half her face, one of her eyes had swollen closed. The red-haired girl took a seat at the table by a plate full of crumbs, and managed a smile.

  “Hi, Miss Emma.”

  Emma couldn’t believe her eyes and blinked at her mother, at Nan, and at Kimber. The girl looked as though a horse cart had run her over. She shivered from worry as a group of townspeople walked past the window.

  Seconds later, a knock at the door made Kimber cringe. She looked as if she wanted to crawl under the table. Emma twisted in her mother’s arms, peering through the window at a crowd congregated outside.

  “They’ve come to see you, Em,” said Nan.

  “They’re going to ask me what happened.” Emma took in a breath and let it out slow. “What should I tell them?”

  “What else?” Nan smiled with a wink. “The truth.”

  mma stood at the top of her porch steps, graciously accepting pats and hugs. Mother hovered at the door, whispering thanks overhead as each person came by. Her story drew pitying looks and whispers about bandits getting too bold. Most thought she’d been grabbed in the middle of the night by a brigand looking to hurt her father. She felt smaller and smaller as they drifted off, consumed by gossip and the idea that the Captain of the Guard should not live so far from town. Others sounded terrified that such a brazen crime could have been committed against the daughter of the town’s best swordsman without so much as one witness.

  “No… it wasn’t bandits,” whispered Emma. She glanced back and up at Mother who offered a knowing nod. “It wasn’t.”

  “Aye, Em.” Mother moved up behind her, grasping her shoulder. “I believe you.”

  Emma smiled and clasped her mother’s hand.

  When all who had come to wish her well had walked away, Emma trudged behind Mother back into their home. Kimber crawled out from under the table and climbed into a chair. She sat for a few minutes with her face hidden behind her thick, curly hair. Nan wandered by, giving Emma a squeeze on the shoulder before she checked on Kimber. The pale girl lifted her head, and the old woman pulled her hair aside like a curtain.

  “Oh, my.” Nan blurted as she got a good look at the child’s bruises.

  She rushed over to the cabinet and whipped both doors open. Glass containers full of various colored liquids as well as bowls, feathers, herbs, and strange stones lined the shelves. Nan moved like a woman possessed, gathering bottles and bits of plants in a flurry of activity. She threw everything in a large bowl and stirred it, muttering the whole time.

  A moment later, she hurried back to the table and set a wooden bowl in front of Kimber. “Here, child. Drink this.”

  Mother cringed, covering her mouth. Nan bugged her eyes and shook her head at Mother, gesturing at their guest.

  Kimber made a face at the milky-white concoction. It reeked of plant matter and mint, and looked far from appealing. Emma scrunched up her nose and held both hands over her face.

  “Well look at you two,” snapped Nan. “You’re the same person in two different sizes.”

  Mother rolled her eyes. “You never did make very good potions.”

  “They work, don’t they?” Nan ruffled like an old hen, gesturing. “Your mother makes ‘em taste good. What matters that as long as they work?”

  “It’s more than taste.” Mother ran a hand through Emma’s hair, drawing out brambles. “My, you need a bath. Nan’s been jealous for years of my potions, you know.”

  “Bah.” Nan waved at her. “You still haven’t learned how to change.”

  Emma giggled, cuddling with her mother and grinning ear-to-ear at Kimber, who still had not touched the odd drink. Nan gave her a stern look, as if to remind the child there was no choice in the matter. Kimber took it in both hands, choking the mess down in one long series of gulps.

  The expression that followed made Emma glad she did not need to have any. Kimber coughed and gagged, tongue sticking out. She clutched the edge of the table, making sounds as if she were about to retch. Emma lost her appetite. Kimber swooned in the chair, her coughs quieting. The swelling and redness on her face faded, and the bruises on her legs disappeared. Her black eye receded to a mild bruise. Kimber swayed around in a circular wobble, dizzy and looking about to fall asleep where she sat.

  Nan wandered about, pulling a chair up to the end of the table. She eased her weight down and glanced back and forth between the two girls. “Well now, Em. I reckon’ you gave that ol’ Banderwigh more than he could handle.”

  “What?” Emma shifted to face the table, leaning back against her Mother.

  “Well, you see. The ladies of t
his family carry the gift. A critter like that cannae be hurt easily wi’ swords. You gave him a wallop, you did. If he comes back, it won’t be till you’re a Nan yourself.” The old one winked.

  Emma giggled. Tam pouted.

  Nan lifted him up. “Maybe you too, boy. But’cha can’t pass it on.” She sniffed at his hair. “Maybe Uruleth.”

  “The bear spirit?” asked Mother.

  “Well, he’s always runnin’ around bare,” said Emma.

  Mother groaned.

  Nan set Tam in a chair by some bread, which he attacked. “So, child. Do you still think my Faerie stories are nonsense?”

  Emma drilled a guilty stare into the table. “No.”

  Tam gave her a raspberry and a shower of wet crumbs.

  Nan’s chair creaked as she settled into it and leaned back, gnarled fingers clutching the table’s edge. “Good. Now, I think you are ready to learn. Believing is the first step.”

  Emma gave her mother a questioning look.

  Nan flashed a mischievous grin. “Your mother was a stubborn one, too.”

  n hour of running about in the meadow behind the house ended with Emma, Kimber, and Tam laying in the grass and picking out shapes in passing clouds. Father had put his foot down that morning, dragging the girls into town to the tailor’s shop. Emma had taken all of five minutes to pick out the plainest white sundress she could find. Kimber, on the other hand, must have tried on everything in the shop close to her size before settling on her current attire: a frilly, berry-pink outfit that made her look like an enormous doll. Father also purchased a plain dress for Kimber and a fancy one for Emma, which remained tucked away inside.

  Emma laced her fingers behind her head, crossed her ankles, and smiled. Her “nice” outfit would stay safe in the house until they forced her to wear it.

  “Cow,” said Tam, pointing skyward.

  Kimber giggled, indicating a different cloud. “That one looks like a mouse.”

  A four-winged longfly buzzed about before landing on Emma’s big toe. It shifted to face the wind, twitching with the gusts. Kimber cringed at the sight of an insect the size of a dinner fork, and crawled behind Tam. Emma paid no attention to the bug, knowing longflies did not bite people―they hunted other bugs. She wasn’t at all sure what the clouds looked like any more. At least none of them looked like a Banderwigh. Kimber laughed at a silly face Tam made.