The Ferryman - Book 1

Chapter 80:

Little Archer

Days ticked away in slow, painful unknowing.

Wednesday became Thursday, and there was nothing Moth could expect to hear from anyone – only Moth’s parents knew of the mission Nehem, Ira, and Ama were on. She had to wait.

The earliest she could hope for their return was Friday.

There was no response about the skin from the magpies. Moth often went to check the birdhouse and refill the water, or give more little offerings on the tray, but none had a message for her – she felt uncertain about sending another message.

Occasionally, there was still a fog-spotted traveler to her house – but the poultice recipe had begun to spread throughout Hiren to Lad and Aldur, and by the end of Thursday no one bothered with visiting her personally.

On Friday evening, Moth climbed out of her window and sat on the sod roof of the porch, which gave her a clear view of the whole grove. The grass was fragrant and still warm, with a scattering of wildflowers resting on the slope, ruffling like birds in the slow breeze.

Though the sun was lowering, Moth had hope that perhaps, perhaps, Nehem, Ira, and Ama would return.

She had felt restless inside the house, was constantly looking out the window – but had settled on the roof instead with her map of Hiren marked with all the burial spots, and her journal to write in.

The magpies came and went – they, like most birds, were busy in spring, finding mates and building nests.

Nokk alone seemed to be unaffected by the season and stayed loyally with Moth. Moth suspected he’d had a mate who had died, as Hiren magpies tended to mourn their whole lives.

Moth felt a chill as the sun lowered and the light slid off the roof. She tightened her shawl around her, while making notes in her journal, planning what she would say to the farmers on Sunday, how she could encourage them, but neither her head or her pencil seemed to have any magic words.

Nokk hopped closer to her, nudging her books off her lap to settle there instead, fluffing up when she tried to push him off.

“Nokk!” Moth said, exasperated, but petting him nonetheless. She was making no progress anyways, so she leaned back on the roof to soak up the last of its warmth before she went back inside.

Nokk pecked on the top of her journal, and Moth shushed him tiredly.

He pecked on it again. Tap, tap, tap.

“You silly bird,” Moth said, sitting up, and then realized he wasn’t pecking it anymore.

Tap, tap, tap.

Tilting her ear, she heard it.

Hoofbeats.

Not daring to hope, Moth stumbled to the edge of the roof, eyes hungrily looking around the trees.

It’s probably Feldar, or, or, someone else coming to visit. Moth thought, though her heart pounded with hope. Oh please.

The hoofbeats got louder, closer, and in the dimming light Moth saw a black and white horse emerge into the grove. Moth was tense and trembling until she squinted and saw there was a rider.

Ama.

Moth could barely breathe, her eyes filled with tears – she wanted to call out to her but her throat tightened and she could barely speak.

Then she noticed the blood.

Aggo was covered in brambles, burrs, and thorns. His hide had been shredded, dried and fresh blood stained his white patches.

Ama was the same. She was slumped, almost laying, on Aggo – drenched in blood and covered in thorn cuts.

“Sabine!” screamed Moth, clawing her way up the roof, through the window, and down the stairs. “Sabine, help!”

Lt. Grotte asked no questions and rushed to Moth’s side, running outside with her.

“Good god,” grunted Lt. Grotte as soon as she saw them. She grabbed Ama’s arm before she slid off. “What happened to you?”

Ama’s lips were dried and split, her face covered in hundreds of cuts, an eye swollen shut. She looked blearily past Lt. Grotte at Moth, who stood trembling.

“I’m sorry Moth,” Ama choked, tears spilling down her cheek. “I’m sorry. We lost the sunstones.”

Lt. Grotte lifted Ama off Aggo and carried her into the house. She lay her on the stovebed, and Moth – unable to think, to react – began removing her filthy garments, stripping her to her underclothes. She got scraps of rags – hundreds still available from the poultices – and began slowly, methodically, removing festering thorns from Ama.

Picky Woods.

Some thorns were two inches long, like nails embedded in her flesh.

As she pulled them out, they burst with blood and pus.

Moth would not think.

She removed the thorns, washed the wounds, disinfected, bandaged – over and over. She could not let herself feel and be overtaken by her emotions – she would only care for the wounds with methodical gentleness.

Barely any inch of Ama had been spared from the thorns.

Ama didn’t react to the thorns sliding out. Her eyelids fluttered shut, so Moth hoped she’d fallen asleep, but every so often she peered at her older sister with dim hazel eyes. “Sorry,” she muttered, thickly, and closed her eyes again.

Moth shook her head, over and over, even when Ama wasn’t talking. She was tense to the very skin of her toes – too tense to think any thoughts, she only saw each thorn and pulled it out, wiped away pus and blood, disinfected, and bandaged.

Moth spoon-fed Ama some water – she was terribly dehydrated – and then, mercifully at long last, Ama fell asleep.

It was another hour before Moth finished her bandages. She buried Ama in blankets, threw more wood in the stove to heat up the room and the stovebed, and then knelt at Ama’s side, took her tawny hand, and sobbed.

*

It was late in the night.

Moth could not sleep and would not leave Ama. So, she sat next to her on the stovebed and watched Ama breathe.

It was around 4 a.m. when Moth, half in a trance, noticed Ama had woken up and was watching her.

Her eyes seemed clearer. She started to lift her head, but Moth hurriedly eased her back down saying, “Shh, go back to sleep.”

“They detained Ira and Nehem,” muttered Ama.

Moth stiffened, gripping onto Ama’s hand.

“At a sentry outpost.”

“Are they…are they alive?” Moth whispered.

Breathing hard, Ama nodded, and said, “It started off so well. We went to where you said, exactly, to the dot on the map. It took a minute to find that little springhouse, but we did, and I was worried someone would’ve taken it or seen or anything but no – the sunstones were all there, all seven satchels.”

She trailed off here, her voice dry and wheezing. Moth gave her a sip of water. “I didn’t know we had been noticed by sentries. We’d gone along the main road into that little village in Lad you mentioned, Sootaket. The same millhouse and bridge. We didn’t do anything to raise suspicion, but Aggo – they noticed Aggo. We’re just dirty farmers and he’s such an expensive horse, they probably thought we’d stolen him. They didn’t stop us, but they kept an eye on us. After we got the sunstones, our plan had been to go by night down the same path you had taken, avoid the outpost and through the old logging trails, but two soldiers were waiting there. They wanted to search our belongings, and I knew – if they saw all the sunstones, they’d take it from us. They’d kill for it.”

Moth chest felt too tight.

“Ira, he thought so quickly. He and Nehem threw the sunstones onto Aggo and tackled the two sentries so I could flee. I was so… so scared I don’t remember much, but Aggo – he just ran, he seemed to know the way and he carried me through but after the logging trails we got to this forest. Picky Woods. I…” Ama choked, fighting back tears but failing and dissolving into sobs. “Moth! It was like it was trying to eat me. I don’t… I can’t explain it. The trees were moving, they were alive, they were breathing I could…I’m not crazy, I could hear them – they tore at me with their limbs, they reached for me and Aggo and just kept ripping at us and tearing us. I couldn’t see. If it wasn’t for Aggo…he just kept running. Never stopped, never

faltered. He got me through but oh Moth. The trees shredded everything – the bags of sunstones were split to nothing, the sunstones scattered over all the forest. I couldn’t bring you back even one.”

The world whirled around Moth and she lay next to Ama and held desperately onto her. Ama choked out, “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry Moth. I’ve killed Hiren.”