The Staff of the Winds (The Wizard of South Corner Book 1) (6 page)

As evening approached, Owen started looking for a good place to stop for the night. The horses were exhausted from the unaccustomed pace they had held, and the high rate of alert that their riders had maintained left them equally spent. Had they all been fresh, they would still have been forced to stop. The ground had become rocky, too rough to risk a horse’s leg in the dark, and they felt that the danger of ambush rose substantially in the dark. According to the stories both boys had heard, gorn had excellent night vision, often hunting and killing by the light of stars alone. Finally, Jack spotted a small rock ledge jutting out near the crest of a low rise. The spot would give them cover and still allow them good visibility over the surrounding terrain.

It was as they were turning off the trail that Owen heard hoof beats on the trail behind them.  At a signal, he and Jack separated and found cover on each side of the trail, where they dismounted and readied their bows.  This portion of the trail had turned mostly west, climbing up into the beginnings of the Gray Hills. The setting sun would thus be almost in the eyes of their pursuer, giving a bowman standing on the ground a significant advantage, Owen hoped, over a rider who might not know that the bowman was there.

When the rider crested the hill at a fast trot, Owen drew the arrow back to his cheek, took a deep relaxing breath let it out and took aim. He was completely calm and free of emotion as he gauged the motion of his target, the distance and the light breeze on his left cheek. He was not aiming at the rider, but at a precise spot in the middle of the rider’s chest. From there he moved his aim slightly off center to the right and timed his release with the rise and fall of the horse’s motion.

Taught by his father, Owen knew the details of the science of putting the arrow where you wanted it to go. He knew each of the many calculations and adjustments required; he knew that an archer did not aim at the target but at the bulls-eye, and that a skilled archer aimed not at the bulls-eye, but at a spot chosen in its center. He knew of the loft required to compensate for the fall of the arrow over distance, and the strange things that air movement could do to an arrow in the brief time of its flight. He knew all of these things, and had practiced taking them into account for so many years that now he made all of the calculations without conscious thought. He stood now waiting for the arrow’s release—not choosing, but rather allowing the arrow to fly at the instant in which all of the unthought calculations and adjustments would lead it inevitably to the point in space that he had chosen.  In the instant before the shot was made, Owen lowered his bow, stepped out from cover and called to Jack to hold his shot.

The rider, startled by Owen’s sudden armed appearance hauled back on the reins and brought her horse to a stumbling walk.  Owen could see that the sorrel gelding was heavily lathered, and having some difficulty responding to her rider’s directions.  Sitting in the saddle, looking similarly exhausted but grinning widely was Marian.

“Marian,” Owen called, “what the devil are you doing out here?  Does mom know where you are?”

“Evan told us what happened,” Marian answered, ignoring Owen’s question as she climbed down from the saddle, “and I knew you and Jack ’d need some help, so I thought I’d better come join you.”

“You mean mom let you come by yourself?” Owen asked, incredulous.

“Well, not exactly,” Marian answered, “but I left a message so that she won’t worry.”

By this time, Jack had walked up chuckling. “I wouldn’t want to be in your britches when your mom finally catches up with you.”

Marian colored at this remark, but held her tongue. In truth, she had been thinking much the same sort of thing for the past several hours, once the initial excitement of setting off into the wilds on her own to track down her big brother had worn off.

“Well,” Owen said, “you’re here now and it’s too late to send you back tonight.  We were about to make camp for the night under that ledge over there.  You can spend the night with us and head back in the morning.  Mom and Dad are probably worried sick about you.”

“Don’t send me back, Owen, please. I’ve come all this way, and you need me. You know I’m as good as you when it comes to tracking, and three sets of eyes are much better than two.  I can help keep the two of you from getting caught.  Besides, I don’t want to ride all that long way back by myself tomorrow.  What if there are soldiers or gorn on the trail behind us?  I wouldn’t have a chance all by myself.  Just let me come along and help, then tomorrow or the next day when we find out where the bad guys are going, we can all go back together.  Please, Owen, please don’t send me back all alone.”

Jack took all this in with a big grin on his face. He’d seen Marian work Owen in the past, and knew that Owen was clay in the hands of his little sister when she really wanted something from him. ‘
You had to admire a potter that was really good at her work,
’ he thought as his grin widened even more.

“We’ll talk about it in the morning,” Owen said, “but you’ve got no business riding out here by yourself. You’d better pull some grass and rub down Sam, looks like you near rode the poor guy to death.”

Jack caught a satisfied little smirk cross Marian’s face when she turned away from her big brother, but it quickly passed when she realized he was watching her. “What are you grinning at?” she muttered as she passed him.

“Nothing,” he answered, “nothing at all.”

Once the horses were all rubbed down, watered and given some grain, they were hobbled and allowed to graze on a small patch of grass in a depression near the overhang. The boys agreed to keep a cold camp that night to avoid the attention that a fire might bring, and shared out portions of hard biscuits and venison jerky.

Marian told Jack and Owen what had happened at the Campbells’. Mr. Campbell had been doubtful at first, suspecting Evan of trying to pull some kind of prank, but once convinced, he had sent his four boys out to scout the area, spread the alarm, and call the other farmers to rally at his place. Marian had then penned a quick note to her mom, left it with Mrs. Campbell and lit out as fast as she could to catch up with Owen.

“I was starting to get a little worried that I might have passed you somewhere along the way,” Marian said, “and might even be catching up with the gorn instead. Do you think that they’re near by?”

“I doubt it,” Owen answered, “at least not the main party. Judging by the tracks, I’d guess that they’re still almost half a day ahead of us. They’re pushing awfully hard to get somewhere in a hurry. I still haven’t figured out where they might be headed.

“There could be some stragglers around, though,” he continued, “or perhaps an ambush party to take care of anyone like us who might be following. We’d better keep a watch tonight just in case. Jack, do you want first or last?”

“Hey,” Marian interjected, “I can stand a watch too; my hearing and night vision is better than yours.”

Owen looked at her and considered, then said, “You look like you’re about to fall asleep already . . . you can take third watch,” he added, grudgingly.  “Jack, do you want first or middle.”

“I can keep my eyes open for a while,” Jack answered, “you get some rest and I’ll wake you in a few hours.”

Jack, like Owen, had grown up on a farm bordering the Gray Hills.  In their youth, they had explored widely together, hunting, fishing and looking for hidden places in the woods where they could imagine that no human had been before.  The Gray Hills were lush and green to the west of South Corner, covered with ancient forests of hardwoods which were watered by the dozens of streams that originated from the snows high on the West Wall.  In their explorations, the boys had found many hidden clearings, and some impressive rock walls where the streams rushed eagerly to the edge and threw themselves far over and down to land laughing in broad pools at the bottom.

Occasionally, Aaron would come out from the village to hunt and explore with Owen and Jack. It was in the morning of one of these expeditions when they were all about fifteen, Evan’s age, that the three intrepid explorers came across the clear imprint of the track of a great-cat in the soft mud of a small stream bank. The pad was wider than Jack’s hand, and almost as long.

The great-cats are the largest, most accomplished carnivores in the Gray Hills. They are tawny in color, with two black stripes that start above each eye, run down the sides of the neck and the length of the broad back to join at the base of the tail. Sleek but powerfully built, they grow to twice the weight of a man, and can take down a full-grown elk. For all of their size, a great-cat can move silently through the forest, seeming to hardly disturb a leaf in their passing.

The boys knew that the cats mostly avoided people, but there were occasional maulings. They were, after all, in the deep woods, the great-cat’s element, and judging by the water that was slowly oozing into the track, the print was fresh. Their first reaction to the discovery was excitement; the second was alarm. Quickly they scanned the woods all around, trying to peer deep under the trees for any sign of a huge and angry great-cat about to charge. When no sign of the animal was seen, excitement reclaimed the stage, and Aaron suggested that they track the cat backwards to see if they could find its den. They had never found the den of a great-cat before, this one clearly was not at home, so it was an opportunity not to be missed. Owen and Jack enthusiastically agreed.

Tracking a great-cat through the forest is not an easy task. Their wide soft pads leave little impression except in the softest ground, and unless they are in the burst of speed that completes a charge upon a hapless deer, their claws are withdrawn and the leaf and other litter on the forest floor is almost completely undisturbed by their passing. Both Jack and Owen were very good in the woods, but even they lost the trail several times and had to leave Aaron at the site where the track was last seen while they spiraled out around him searching carefully for the slightest clues of the cat’s passing.

It was after several hours of this concentrated effort, while Owen and Jack were once again trying to pick their way through a particularly confusing area that Aaron suddenly whispered: “Hey, look over there. Do you see that dark spot in the rock face across the clearing just left of the old holly bush? I think that might be it.”

Cautiously and as quietly as they could, the three boys approached the shadow on the rock face that, as they grew closer, revealed itself as the opening of a small cave. The mouth of the cave was not large, coming to only half way up Owen’s chest, and just slightly wider than his shoulders. Keeping his staff before him, Owen crouched at the entry and carefully looked in. The cave itself widened a little from the opening to about the span of his arms across, Owen estimated, and as his eyes adjusted to the light, he could see that it went about three spans into the side of the rocky hill. The air from the cave had a sharp musty smell, definitely feline, he thought.

Owen was about to move aside so that Jack and Aaron could have a look, when he heard a low growl from the interior and saw sudden movement in the dimness. The boys jumped back, and Owen held his staff trembling before him, ready to counter a sudden attack, but none came.  Jack eased himself forward for a look, and after a pause exclaimed: “There are two cubs in there.”

“Let me see,” cried Aaron, and crowded up next to Jack.

“We’d better get out of here,” Owen whispered. “Their mother won’t have left them for long, and I don’t want to be caught between her and her cubs when she comes back.”

“No, wait,” said Aaron. “They’re just little. I want to take one with us.”

“What,” cried Owen and Jack together. “That’s crazy,” said Jack. “Their mother would tear us apart if she caught us disturbing her cubs. Besides, what would you do with it?”

“Tame it and raise it as a pet,” answered Aaron, eagerly. “Nobody’s ever done that before, I bet, and besides no one is going to believe us if we don’t take back some proof.”

“Nobody’s ever done it, because nobody could do it,” responded Owen quickly. “Great-cats are vicious. Even those kittens would tear you open if you tried to pick them up.”

Just then the discussion was interrupted when they heard a deep cough and a low menacing growl behind them. There across the small clearing was a large tawny great-cat, muscles bunched beneath its crouching body, tail lashing powerfully from side to side. Owen stared for a moment at the intent yellow eyes, the black markings that went up the furrowed brow and back between the tawny ears, and the long sharp fangs evident in the snarling mouth, and knew that he was seeing what many a deer had seen just before it became the great-cat’s dinner.

Slowly, the boys began to edge to their left, away from the mouth of the cave.  “Stay behind me,” Owen said, as he started to weave his staff before him, building momentum and hoping to confuse or intimidate the angry cat. “And don’t use your bows,” he added quickly when he saw Aaron fit an arrow, “you’ll just wound her and make things worse.”

They had covered about three long strides, when the great-cat suddenly sprang forward in a rush. Owen braced himself, and at the last moment he struck as hard as he could to the side of the head of the leaping cat and pivoted away. The sleek animal managed to rake Owen’s left forearm with her sharp claws as she went by. She landed heavily, but quickly rolled to her feet snarling. Using the opportunity, the boys backed quickly towards the far side of the clearing. The cat advanced more cautiously, as Owen went back into his weave. He was shaken, but with the adrenalin streaming through his veins did not feel the pain of the gash in his arm.  By now, Aaron and Jack had slung their bows, pulled out their slings, and were throwing stones with as much energy as they could at the sensitive snout of the advancing animal.