River Heart

Chapter Six - Village

Lyris turned to face the small crowd of onlookers. There was a mother with a baby balanced on her hip and a dark-haired child peering out from the sides of her skirts. The young woman looked tired, but her brown eyes narrowed in shrewd suspicion. Beside her was an older woman, with grey hair cut close to her head, then a middle-aged man with his shirt-unfastened. Finally, a younger man with dark cropped hair and a sword on his belt. There was no mistaking the open hostility in their expressions.

What was also obvious, was that Arn hadn’t alerted her as promised. She glanced at him, her own brows narrowed in a scowl and he lifted his hands in surrender.

‘I tried,’ he mouthed and edged closer. His hip bumped against hers and nudged her off balance.

Stumbling, Lyris steadied herself and set her back to the wall. It came up to her waist, so she lent against it.

‘You’re supposed to be dead,’ the young woman spoke without remorse. Her pale hair had been pulled back from her face in a pony-tail, though most of the thin strands had escaped at some point. She lifted the baby on her hip, arms wrapped around the wide-eyed child who seemed more intent on pulling her hair than paying attention to anything else.

The day before, Lyris had had no warning. There had just been a sudden thump along the back of her shoulders that had almost pitched her into the well. Maybe this was better.

She lifted her hands, copying Arn’s gesture of surrender.

‘A man came to the Myst,’ Lyris seized the opportunity to explain her actions. The chance had been denied the day before, when an empty sack had been pulled over her head and her mouth stuffed with the coarse material. From the corner of her eye, she saw a dark snake slide away from the edge of the well, towards a patch of warmer grass. The sun had well and truly crested the mountain edge and the meadows were light with shafts of golden light.

‘He said he was from your village, and that the well was poisoned’ Lyris took the opportunity to study the faces, ‘he said that there has been sickness here?’

The older gentleman finished fastening the stays of his shirt and started to pull on an embroidered jacket. He was richer than the rest and she assumed he was the village Orderly, charged with resolving small disputes or raising them to the local Baron.

‘All I see, is a Myst, doing her magic over our well,’ the Orderly’s voice was low. Like the rumble of a wagon over gravel.

‘The man requested help,’ Lyris insisted with a glance to Arn who remained strangely silent, ‘I was sent to collect a sample, that was all.’

‘You’ve not drawn a bucket,’ the young mother nodded to the winch that hung from the tall wooden roof atop the walls. ‘You’ve just been standing there, with water in your palms. How do we know you’re not putting magic in the water?’

‘It’s-’ her scholars’ training demanded that she correct the woman and explain there was magic in the water already, there was power in everything that gave life. The words however, caught on her tongue. Lyris had a feeling that they wouldn’t be taken well.

‘We’re just here to help,’ it was Arn who broke the terse silence. He straightened up and stepped forward. Light turned his hair to threads of gold and he surveyed the group with a frown, ‘you’re not going to kill Lyris,’ he said it as though they wouldn’t dare disobey him.

The armed man spat to the side, ‘Thendon,’ he nudged the Villages Orderly, the man who could afford brocade on his clothes, ‘we’ve no reason to listen to him. He’s with her, we kill them both?’

‘Have you had deaths in your village?’ Arn demanded, peering at the young mother.

She glared back at him and lifted the baby on her hip once more, ‘more than we care for,’ she admitted, ‘so we’re not a fan of Myst messing with our water.’

‘If there’s a spell, then we’ll break it by killing her,’ the dark-haired man drew his sword.

‘Odrin,’ Thedon warned. The Orderly was focused on Arn now that he’d finished dressing.

‘I am trying to help you,’ Lyris stepped forward and Arn moved with her, step for step across the hard-packed earth.

‘Then know that your death serves a purpose,’ the blonde woman replied, ‘I’ll not loose anymore children to whatever pox you’ve put in our water.’

‘So, it’s true?’ Lyris looked between them, desperate, ‘there’s a disease here?’

‘There’s something sick in the village,’ Thedon glanced at the young mother, ‘Yedra, why don’t you take your little ones home?’

‘Because I want to see justice done, Thedon,’ there was a tremble in her voice, ‘I’m not losing anyone else.’

‘I’ve never been here before,’ Lyris pleaded. The bunch was a sorry looking sight, even with Odrin’s sword she was confident that she would be able to defend herself against them. She wasn’t willing to simply be bound and dragged off to a pit, not again.

‘I was sent to get my sample and return it to the Island, we’ll see if there is a problem with your water and work out a way to solve it – but please. Please dig a new well if this one is causing you sickness.’ It was insanity to carry on any other way.

‘We have no reason to trust you,’ Thedon hooked his thumbs into his belt, ‘I’m sorry. We’ve all lost a loved one to the sickness, we barely have enough people with strength to dig a new well. If your death will free us from a curse-’

‘You’ll not be killing Lyris,’ Arn reached out and curled a warm hand around her arm. She could feel the heat from his palm through the thin layer of her shirt.

‘Sir,’ Thedon took in the young man’s well-made clothes and gave a sad shake of his head, ‘you’re travellers together, we’ll be killing you both.’

He said it as if they were supposed to simply accept the news. As if they weren’t going to fight. With just Odrin armed, Lyris wondered if he was simple, or just widely overestimating the dark-haired man’s capability with a sword. It was then that she realised that more folk had started to emerge from the houses encircling the village knoll. Perhaps a half dozen men, armed with farmers’ scythes or spades.

Arn spared a look at the approaching attackers and then he let out a sigh that seemed to rise from the depths of his boots.

‘You’re going to let us free,’ he spoke with a voice that was calm and unmoved with fear, ‘and you’re going to return the belongings and horse-’ he looked across at her and frowned for a moment, ‘did you have a horse?’

‘Yes,’ she answered automatically, blinking. This was perhaps the strangest conversation she’d ever witnessed. Why did Arn think that simply making demands was going to help them? Despite her exhaustion, she was reaching with her power towards the well once more. It would be easier to find the source of its essence as she’d done so already. But it was difficult to concentrate on extending her reach, with the conversation flying between the agitated group.

‘You’re going to return her horse as well and then we’re going to leave.’

Odrin grimaced, ‘are you a fool? Did they lose you from the festival? You’ll not be taking anything except your last breath.’

Arn reached up and ran a hand over the chain around his neck, it was then that he pulled up the gold links and set a medallion onto his chest. The size of a large coin, it sparkled in the light, more wealth in a single item of jewelry that Lyris had ever seen.

‘I am Arnit Farview, fourth son of the King. My requests will be met, or your village will be ash before harvest.’

‘He’s telling the truth,’ the woman with short grey hair chose her time to speak and edged forward, leaning on her cane.