Novel in Progress

The woman walked quickly through the darkness clinging to her breast a well-wrapped bundle of woollen blankets.  She nervously looked around as she half-ran through the wooded path.

As she came upon an aged oak, slightly hollowed out at the base of the trunk, she stopped, checked around one last time, and gently laid the bundle at the foot of the ancient tree.  She stood sadly looking down at the wrappings, then turned on her heels and quickly disappeared down the path from where she had come.

The darkness came alive once more when she was out of sight, and from behind the tree, a shadow cautiously emerged.  It bent over the package and curiously flipped back layer upon layer of woollen blankets, until it came to the contents.  There before him, lay a small, sleeping child just a few days old.  Gently he bent over and picked it up, re-wrapping the blankets to keep out the dampness, tucking it softly between his tunic and leather coat.

            In an instant, he had turned back to the oak, like a feather on a breeze, was gone into the forest.

            Once again, the sounds of darkness came alive in the woods and everything continued as though nothing had happened.

            Farther to the east a lady lay in her room, lush with silks and fine linens, weeping softly into her over stuffed pillow, her heart broken with the pain of what she had ordered done by her servant.

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            Richard pulled the reins on the horse to halt the plough as he wiped the sweat from his brow.  He hoped to be finished this field by now, but it was hot already and the old horse was not in any hurry to pull the weight of the blade.  Richard dropped the harness and fetched a pail of water for the mare, scooping a cup for himself before placing it down in front of her.  She sniffed it slowly and after shifting feet, she began to drink.

            Spring was early this year and Richard was hoping for a good harvest.  After the blight from the year before, the grain supply was short and was now almost depleted.  If he could get an early start on ploughing the fields, perhaps he could get the seed in early, and have a larger crop than last year.  Maybe he would even sell some extra and get that new dress he saw his mother eyeing last time they were in Munten.  

            It was almost two years now since his father had died of fever, and looking at that dress was the first time he had seen the brightness in his mother’s face.  It would be a very welcome surprise for her and for him and his brother, Peter.  Times had been hard over the last couple of years, and a good harvest would put things back on track again.

            He tossed out the rest the water from his cup and plucked the pail up from the old mare.  “Okay, time to get back to work little girl.  You can drink as soon as we get this field ploughed.”  Richard looked up at the clear sky and the brilliant sun.  It would be midday soon; he wanted to be finished by then.  He still had to fetch and chop some wood for the woodpile.  The nights were chilly and the hearth still had to be lit to warm the house before bed.  There were always so many things to be done and never enough time to do them all.

            Peter was a help but he was the younger of the two brothers and always had been sickly.  His big blues eyes were sunken deep into the pale white skin of his face.  His arms and legs were long and thin and he looked as though a sudden breeze may knock him over.  None the less, he was always eager to help Richard with everything.  Richard adored him and gave him many things to do that would not tire him too quickly.

            Richard was Peter’s senior of about five years.  He was almost opposite of Peter in build and colouring.  Peter was slight and very fair, but Richard was tall and heavy-set with dark brown hair.  Richard resembled his father but Peter was more to his mother’s side.  The two things they did share were the bright blue eyes and the ear-to-ear smile, which was like the well-known smile of their father.  

            After his father died, Richard took the position of head of the household.  He had already learned how to handle the plough a few years before that, and had helped his father with the crops and livestock for many years.  It was not a new task for him and since he was on his own with it all, he had become that much better than what his father was.

            During the late fall and most of the winter months, he travelled to Blane, a small town to the south, where he studied with Hardorin.  Hardorin taught him the ways of the land and beasts.  He learned to forecast the weather and even began to forecast the season changes in the air and sky, as well as the habits of the animals, Richard learned much in growing crops with a sharp accuracy.  It even amazed Hardorin, which of course, made Richard feel even more proud of himself.  Since his father’s death, Richard and Hardorin began to bond together, and a close friendship began to grow.

            The horse stumbled and let out a short snort.  Richard let go of the reigns and walked over to the mare.  “You are getting tired, old lady?”  Richard looked up to the sun.  “Seems the sun is hotter now than it used to be this time of year.  Something is not right old girl, something is just not right.”  He patted the mare on the neck.  “Well, I guess we can call it a day then.  This field is done and it will not be long to finish it tomorrow.  I think we could both use a bit of a rest.”  He stroked her sweat soaked neck once more.  “You and I have been working pretty hard lately.  Come along then, let’s go back to the house.”  He unhitched the old horse from the plough and led her back to the barn where he put out some hay and water for her.  She lifted her head from the hay, looked at him with her sad brown eyes, snorted, and nodded her head up and down.  “Yes, my sweet lady, you rest and we will finish the field tomorrow.  You did a very good job today.”  He patted her once more, then left the barn and walked toward the house. 

            The chickens were running around the yard snatching little bugs and a few leftover grains of wheat his mother had spread earlier that morning.  The ground was very dry and dusty, which was not a good sign for the coming months.  It was on Richard’s mind that a drought may be at hand and the thought sent shivers threw his body.  Most of their supplies had been used up because of the shortage from last year’s harvest.  What would they do now if it were a drought season?  They could loose the farm and all the livestock.  He looked up to the clear sky again and the hot sun.  Maybe I should visit Hardorin.  If something is out of line, he should know.  Of course, I could be just over-reacting to the whole thing too.

            He stopped just outside the house, bent down, and picked up a handful of the dirt.  Smelling it, he twisted his face.  He smelt it again.  It smells dead!  Why did I not notice this before?  He let the dry dirt slip through his fingers and stood up.  Urgency began to grow in his stomach.  He looked all around now, at the trees, the shrubs, and the grasses.  Everything was as though it were dead, drained of life by some unseen force.  Quickly he moved to the back door of the house and went inside.

            His mother was at the stove preparing soup and his brother was in the corner very intent on the task of repairing the axe handle.  They both looked up a bit startled at Richard’s hasty entrance.

            “What is it son?”  His mother turned, a look of concern on her face.  “Have you injured yourself?”  She ran to him grabbing his hands and searching his body for cuts or marks.

            Richard gently took her hands in his, “No, no I am fine.  It is just that I must leave for Blane.  I must have council with Hardorin and have many things to ask him.”  He walked over to a basin of water and began to wash his face and hands.  “I have finished most of the field but that poor old mare was too tired to finish the rest today.”  Looking over to his brother he added, “I will need your help to finish up tomorrow.  I will show you how to handle that crazy mare when she is behind that blade.  Is that okay?”

            “Sure, sure I will,” Petere stuttered.  “I know I can do it.  I have watched and helped so many times.  I can do it for you Richard.”

            Richard smiled “I know you can and I have all confidence in you to complete it properly.”  He looked back at his mother.  “If we can plant early enough, I am sure we can make up for the short season last harvest.  The weather is fair now and I am sure it is safe to begin to seed now.”

            His mother looked over at Peter “Son can you get me some water please.  I am almost out and I still have to heat some for the laundry.”  At that, Peter quickly put down his axe handle, grabbed two buckets, and headed out the door.  He was so very proud that his brother was asking him to help with this.  Finally, he was helping to take care of the farm in a man’s way and not just as a child. 

            “Richard, now I would like you to tell me the truth.  Do not lie for I know your face and when you lie.”  She sat in the chair beside the large table.  “What is wrong?”

            Richard sat down at the heavy wooden table.  His father had made it for his mother when they were first married.  He surprised her with it the day they moved into the house.  His father had even built the house himself with the help of a few friends.  Stone by stone and timber-by-timber, he had placed each one with love and attention.  He wanted everything to be perfect for his wife-to-be.  There were two small bedrooms on the south side of the house and one large room took up the rest of the space.  Along the north wall was the fireplace and hearth for heating and cooking.  Next to it, he had built a long counter with an inset bowl for water.  Above the counter were many shelves for dishes and food.  After she moved in, she had sewn pretty curtains to cover the shelves.  Along the east and west walls were two large windows that let in both the morning and evening sun that kept the house bright from dawn until dusk.

            Around the table were four regular chairs and two armchairs that his father had made.  Under each window on either side of the room, were two long benches with pillows his mother had sewn for people to sit on.  In the corner by the counter was a small three-legged stool Richard had made for Peter many years ago after one of Peter’s illnesses.  Richard thought it would be good for him to sit close to the fire and be warmer.

            So many memories here of old friends and family dropping by for diner, but not many had come by since his father’s death.  The laughter seemed to linger but was much quieter now.  They were more like memories and only rang in the rafters in Richard’s dreams.  How he missed his father and all the good things he stood for. 

            A terrible fever had passed over the village and surrounding farms.  Munten, which is to the north of Paite, suffered many deaths from this strange fever.  It came so quickly and people seemed to die from it within a matter of days.  Even the very healthy, like Richard’s father, stood no chance of recovery from it.  The fever was strange and did not seem to affect as many women or young as it did the stronger men.  Many thought it was in the soil or livestock because the men were ploughing or tending the animals more than women or children.  No one really knew for sure and as quickly as it came, it was gone.  Since then, many families had suffered and some even lost their farms and homes.  This was Richard’s biggest fear, loosing what his father and mother had worked so very hard to have.  He would not loose the farm, not if he was still breathing.

            “Richard, will you answer me?”  His mother’s voice snapped him back.

            “I am sorry, I was thinking.”  He looked up at his mother’s delicate face.  He was afraid to add more sadness to it, but knew she would not settle for any other answer than the truth.  “Something is wrong, mother.  I can feel it in the air and soil.  I can even smell something is wrong.  It is an uneasy feeling I have in my soul, something is just not right and has not been right for two or three years.”  He waved off her reply and knew she was going to say it was his grief.  “No, it isn’t father.  Yet, his death is part of it.  Do you not find it odd that only healthy men were the predominant victims of this strange plague?  Look at the sky, there are no clouds, no spring breezes, and very few birds.  The trees and grasses are barren, almost dead, and the soil smells of death.”  He got up from his chair and walked to the basin of water.  “Even the water smells of metal and grows cloudier each day.  Something is not right with things.  I must go to see Hardorin and ask if he knows of something.”  He turned back to his mother once more.  “I will finish the seeding first.  That has to be finished as soon as possible.  Then we will go to Munten and get enough supplies for you and Peter until I can return.”  He took her small hands into his.  “Mother, please try not to worry.  I will find out what is going on and return quickly.  Besides, I may be able to obtain some nice material for you to make a pretty dress for this years harvest dance.”  He smiled at her and kissed her forehead.

            She blushed at the prospect of going to a dance without Pendor.  They had always attended the dance together and would dance all night long.  All the other couples envied them because they danced so well together.  Even as youngsters they made a good couple and both her and Pendor knew from the beginning they would always be together.  Now he was gone and she was alone with her two loving sons and so much grief.  Anora thought she would never recover from loosing her husband and even contemplated taking her own life a few times.  Somehow, Richard had always seemed to step in with some remark or suggestion and the thought was gone.  He was her saviour these days and had taken the responsibilities straight away after his father died.  Richard was strong like Pendor and was her only comfort now.  She too had noticed things were not as they should be.  However, Richard was much stronger with the visions than she was now and he could see and feel them more than she could.

            After many years of neglect, she had lost much of her gift.  She was born a Talsine, but chose to marry Pendor instead of following the crafts.  Her two sisters, well known for their gifts, followed the ways of the Talsine.  Normally the gift passed from mother to daughter and only rarely was a male child blessed with the Talsine powers.  She knew Richard was one of those rare people and knew it from the day he was born.  She insisted on sending him to Hardorin, who was also one of those rarities.  Anora knew Richard would be trained well in the arts with Hardorin, and slowly come to understand his position.  These gifts were very powerful and it seemed Richard was more powerful than most women were in recent history.  Pendor knew of Anora’s gifts as did many, and he often felt guilty for taking her from them.  Anora insisted they wed.  She was more than willing to give them up to be with Pendor.

            When Pendor died of the strange fever, Anora was over-wrought with grief.  She felt she was dead herself although she was still walking around.  She did her day-to-day duties without meaning or purpose and felt nothing.  She was empty inside.  It was not until Peter came to her one day with the last spring flower and without a word, laid it upon her lap at super.  A warmth of love returned to her heart once more as she looked up through tear-filled eyes at the two sons she still had.  She knew then that she must continue and raise her sons without Pendor.  They were all that she had left of him now and she must take care of them. 

            “Peter will be able to help you here.  I will make sure there is enough firewood chopped before I leave.  He is not strong enough to cut much himself.  He can tend the livestock though.”  He looked straight at his mother, “If you need anything at all, please call Uncle Jarkat or Aunt Missy.  I know they are older, but Uncle Jarkat is father’s only brother and will make sure you get any help you need.”  He smiled at her again.  “Please promise you will call him if you need anything.”  His mother smiled and nodded.  “Good!  Now what is that wonderful smell?  I am starving!”