Chapter Three

Evangeline’s POV

If you see the Blackledge Raiders, run!

That is what we were taught when we were children and we were told the same thing every single day. If I wanted to go to the river to wash, my mother would stop me at the door and say, “Take a friend with you, and if you see the Blackledge Raiders...” I would finish the sentence for her. “Run. I know.”

The same rules applied to fruit picking, walking in the woods, feeding the horses and pigs, hanging out the clean clothes to dry. Everywhere I went was in tandem, and I never had a minute to myself unless I woke up early enough to sneak out alone and unseen.

I never really believed the raiders would come for us. Why would they? We were seven families living on the Blackledge boundaries, hardly worth their trouble or the distance they would have to ride to reach us. We had nothing of value, not really, and we caused no trouble.

Oh, how wrong I was.

The day they came, I was being punished as usual. My mother had caught me at the river alone again and sentenced me to a day at the grind stone making flour for the day’s bread. Of all the jobs in our little community, the grind stone was the worst. If it was being used as a punishment it was worse still. No breaks, not talking, no swapping out with a friend to rest limp and aching arms. Just hours and hours of back breaking, arm burning, solitary grinding. I don’t even like bread.

My friend Annekka had tried to sneak me some honeyed water when my mothers back was turned, but her goblin brother outed us at the top of his lungs. He was always there, in the back ground, causing trouble. I bet it was he who told my mother I was at the river alone. Annekka ended up at the stone next to mine, sharing in my punishment.

She didn’t mind and I would have done the same for her. She was my sister in all but blood and we had a secret which tied us together tighter than family lines ever could. We both had magic inside us, which we discovered by chance at the river one morning.

After weeks of catching not a single fish, we dipped our woven baskets into the water near the rocky bend in the river’s winding path. We knew that if we returned home empty handed, one of our pigs would meet the axe that day. What happened next both delighted and frightened us in equal measure. Fish swam right up to us, their scaly bodies brushed against our bare legs which were knee deep in the clear, icy water that had carved its way down from the mountains to the north, and headed out towards the sea.

We had been travelling the length of the river for most of my life, stopping to settle every autumn, just in time to ride out the winter and travelling through spring and summer. That year was our second in that particular spot. My father had been hunting with the other men, when he was hunted himself and killed by a pack of wolves.

The men who were with him said the wolves were like nothing they had seen before and insisted that we up sticks and find a new place to settle. My mother was adamant that we stay put and the land will provide what we need. When the fish ran scarce and two young men of eighteen years went missing from a near by settlement, the decision was made that the land no longer welcomed us. Annekka and I catching the fish changed everyone’s mind, and we stayed where we were. If only we had left, if only I had the knowledge then that I do now, the powers I have honed over the last five years. I could have saved them all, or at least most of them.

I stood as still as stone in the icy water, worried that any movement would startle our dinner and I would be forced to dine on Rose, Daisy, Poppy or their piglets. Bartie, the boar would be spared the chop, miserable beast that he was, he was our only boar. I closed my eyes and willed the fish into my basket with my thoughts. I could almost taste the flaky, tender flesh and feel the fat from the crispy, fire blackened skin on my lips. Annekka did the same and we did not dare to open our eyes until the current was so strong we could not keep hold of our baskets any longer. When I lifted my vessel out of the river it took both hands, clear water gushed between the loosely woven reeds and my basket bulged with flapping, gasping fish.

We dined like Lords that night and for many days after, all of us convinced that our fortunes had reversed and we would be able to remain indefinitely. Despite the threat of Raiders, we have been more comfortable and the land far more abundant than any place we had settled until then. The piglets were spared the chop and Annekka and I were praised for our persistence and success. I was happy to be able to remain in the place where the last memories of my father reside.

As we gutted and tied the fish to the drying rack we agreed we could never tell our families what had happened at the river. It was a secret we could not share for fear of being outcast. Magic is dangerous, but not in the way you might think, of course it could be used recklessly, but the real threat came from the castle. The Lord of the Shadow reapers does not abide magic and I had no doubt in my mind that the majority of votes would cast us out to protect themselves. I don’t blame them, but knowing what our fate would and could have been makes me heart sick.

Everyone knows his raiders come for witches, so as long as we kept our secret we would be safe, everyone would be safe.

The ringing of the bells was the first sign that that day would not end the way we thought it would when the sun peeked over the distant hills that morning. There were only two reasons to ring the bells. The first, was to call the hunters and gatherers back from the surrounding woods, but that only happened when the evening meal was ready. We ate together, around the fire, every evening no matter what had happened that day. It was our time to wipe the slate clean and give thanks for lands bounty, before retiring for the night, and attendance was expected.

The second reason to ring the bells was danger. Given that it was barely noon and the bells were ringing like a mad man was at the rope, it had to be the latter. I vividly remember my skin burning cold and feeling like I could not breathe. “Run Annekka!” I shouted at my friend who was stood, mid grind, rigid with fear. The air around her moved in hazy waves like when the sun bakes the desert sand and you can see the heat rippling in front of you. I grabbed hold of her hand and pulled her along behind me as I fled for the treeline, the few small stones which had began to rise from the ground around her all fell back to the dirt, hopefully unseen by our families and the invaders.

Vivid images of fearsome men with thick, glistening swords and evil in their eyes, came to my mind. I had been having waking dreams ever since the fish, but never anything like what I saw that day. I now know they were visions of the future, but at the time I was a terrified child who could not see the wood for the trees. I thought my imagination was running away with me, conjuring up images of the worst imaginable threat, but even my imagination could not have painted such monstrous men.

Annekka stumbled over the twisted, exposed roots of the giant redwoods and every time I stopped to pick her up I could sense the threat drawing closer. Everyone back at our compound would have scattered into the surrounding woods, that was the plan if the Raiders came. We knew if we ran in every direction then some of us would have a better chance of escaping. I ran in the wrong direction and the last time Annekka fell I stooped down to help her up and two booted feet stepped into view. They were here for us, they had to be. Somehow Lord Blackledge knew about our magic and he sent his raiders to kill the witches.

I straightened my back and pushed down the terror which pulsed and coursed through my veins, right down to my bare, torn up feet. My hair had picked up twigs and leaves as we fled for our lives and was now hanging in front my face in a big brown, matted mess. My hand trembled as I swept my unruly mane back from my face but I don’t think he noticed. If he did, he didn’t show it. The stories our elders shared around the evening fire told of how the Raiders relish in the fear of their victims. If I was to die that day, I would not give him the satisfaction of knowing my absolute terror.

A fleeting image flickered in my mind. The man who stood before me was sweeping my hair away from my face. He leaned in to whisper in my ear but I could not hear the words he spoke. I felt his lips gently brush the sensitive skin of my neck as he placed a tender kiss there and stepped away. That waking dream was unlike the others and my mind reeled with the possibilities of its meaning.

“Don’t.” That is all he said. One simple word. I knew what he meant, do not run. I looked around for a way out, some way of escaping, but even if I could run I would not leave Annekka behind, she and I were two of a kind.

I don’t know if it was luck, fate, or someone looking down from above, that landed us at Marcel’s feet that morning. He wasn’t like the ones I had seen in my mind. His eyes were filled with darkness but there was something else there too, something that told me I should do as he says. It’s not like I really had any other choice, but I had a feeling that if we were going to have any chance of survival it would start with listening to him. The reckless, inquisitive side of me was curious, I wanted to know what my dream meant. I wish I could say I was acting purely out of a sense of self preservation, but that would be a lie.

“If you try to run, the others will hunt you down. Trust me, you do not want to be their prey. Heed my words and survive this culling.” His voice carried warning and also an unexpected pleading quality, he lifted Annekka to her feet then gently bound our hands behind our backs. Blood curdling screams echoed in the distance and my breakfast of berries and oats landed on the ground near my feet in a lumpy purple puddle. Mother always told me I should chew my food more.

When he said the others would hunt us down, he meant like wild animals. The blood curdling screams were not of people fleeing, rather those of prey, caught and devoured by ravenous beasts. No matter how long I live, I will never be able to get those sounds out of my head and every time they come to mind I get the familiar feeling of food finding its way back up my throat.

Marcel, whose name we did not know at the time, walked Annekka and I back to our small cluster of brick and mud homes, topped with the neatly sewn, leather roofs stretched over light timber frames. They were perfect for keeping the rain out and the warmth in during the cold seasons, and in the blistering heat of the summer sun they provided protection for our fair skin.

Wherever we travelled we would always take only the bare minimum with us, which was usually the leather canopies that could be placed directly on the ground for shelter and later on top of the small round homes we would build when we found somewhere to settle for the winter, and our animals. I used to ask my mother and the other adults why we could not live in one place, and I was always told that I would understand when I was grown. Now I know we were running, we escaped one enemy and landed right in the lap of another.

Marcel walked with purpose as he led us past our gathering area right in the middle of the circle of homes. He told us his name and that Lord Halen was his father, he said if we wanted to live we should remain silent no matter what we heard or saw. He also warned us that if we were taken by his father we should not reveal our magic or anything we knew about our natural parents. My legs turned to jelly and my mouth instantly dried when I realised who his father was. Lord Halen was the Lord of the Shadow Reapers.