Linda L Dunlap [Dunlap - The Gantlet

O n a warm summer night, long, long ago and far away, Ely and Bertil Vingus front door groaned and squeaked as the man of the house sneaked outside. He waited for the telltale signs of lighted windows and blaring horns to warn hed been caught, but when there were none; he moved swiftly to meet his friend at the cottage, three doors down.

Lets go, he said, hurrying his neighbor, calming his own nerve.

Where are we going, Ely? Is it far? Tam Teeple, not his usual cheery self, was jittery with fear.

No, down the valley a ways, be back by half-light, breakfast with the family. Vingus was the leader, but later, when the evil influence departed the inner workings of his brain, he would deny any part in the crime, and have no memory of his own terrible betrayal.

Why are we doing this? Tam said. Must it be done?

Yes, quiet , fools , g et her now or I will take off your heads. Ely stared at Tam with fear not my words, his eyes said.

A single window in the girls room was open, allowing a draught of cool, night air inside. Vingus eased his long, lean frame through the small rectangle cut into the wall, cautious of the horn framework near his thighs. Smoothly, with the lightness of a hunter stalking game, Ely glided through the rooms toward his quarry. The child was lying with her arms outspread upon the bed, her mouth slightly open in a sleep-smile, and he placed the small square upon her tongue, as he had been told. He watched it melt and slide down her throat. She licked her lips after, tasting the fruity deep-sleep potion.

Like berries, her mother would remember. The room smelled of longberries.

Wrap her in the sleep cover. Cover it with blood and bring her to me. Bring her now. Hurry, you worthless bags of flesh !

The rough voice scratched the insides of Ely and Tams throats as they obeyed its commands.

Here, Tam, take her, Ely whispered as he tossed the bundled girl through the window. She weighs nothing at all. Nothing at all.

When it was finished, the two returned to their cottages before breakfast and washed pigs blood from shaking fingers. They had no memory of what theyd done, for both had been spelled by a mighty witch, one whose name neither would dare speak. But later, when the day was done, all thoughts of safety left them, for a demonic bird with giant talons visited their nightfathoms to peck at eyes and faces until each awoke screaming. The girl had been carried away in the dark sky by a Phoebus, a giant bird of prey with enormous wings and great, grasping claws, and both had seen it. They would see it in their dreams forevermore.

The Phoebus, like them, had no will of its own, and stared into eyes neither Ely nor Tam could see. Lowering its head obediently, the giant bird listened to instructions, and grasped the limp body with large talons. Hunching its broad back into the wind, the bird drew the child under a wing and folded its blue-gray feathers around her small frame. Lifting into the night, it soared high, and then even higher, carrying the red-haired girl to another land, where none knew of the Qay tribe, or of Nore Mountain, or of a village built inside a hollow tree.

Later, in the light of dawn, searchers found the bedcover and the girls long, bloodied sleepwear lying beside the grassy path near the Orbel caves, and they mourned for the loss of the villages only child.

Mathena, her mother, recalled the smallest details of the evening: the yawn from her daughter as small arms went out for a last goodnight hug, the points of her ears, fair-skinned with tiny blue lines running through, and thick red curls crisscrossed into a long braid fastened with scarlet vine.

Deep blue eyes had fluttered open as she whispered, I love you, Mam. Mathena would remember the softness of her childs goodnight kiss forever.

By the light of morning, the villagers searched frantically for their only child, but she was gone, into a different land, two hundred leagues from Nore Mountain and its lush green valley.

Breanna Ascroft awakened to cold and darkness. Her eyes burned and her ears were filled with the sounds of whirring and wing-flapping. A foul smell assaulted her nostrils, and the wind chafed her face. The birds heavy feathers bound her tightly, forcing her to lie still, even as the desire for freedom moved her to shift and struggle against her bonds.

Move. Fall. End. The guttural words faded in and out of screaming air currents.

What are you? Breanna asked hesitantly.

Phoebus. Quiet. Fall. End. The words were squawks. Breanna knew then what had her, and believed her death imminent. The giant bird was taking her away to its nest in a faraway aerie to be food for the young ones. She shivered and began to weep and speak.

Are you going to eat me?

No. Want. Want. Want. It was her good fortune the huge scavenger bird dared not defy its mistress.

I understand your words, but you are a creature. Are you enchanted? Breanna asked, trembling in the chilled air. She was afraid, but she was also young and naturally curious, and hoped for answers that might explain how she had gone to bed at night, only to later awaken in the grasp of a giant carrion eater whose language she understood.

The bird glared, and in its red eyes the captured girl could see a triumphant smile on an unknown face.

Whoare you? The child spoke the words softly, murmuring into the cold wind even as her head drooped and sleep overcame her.

The witchs reply went unheard. When the girl awoke later, the bird was gone, and the place she laid was in a farmers wagon, surrounded by open fields and hay mows. Sunlight played on the faces of two stout men wearing straw caps, ragged clothing, and mud- and horse-dung-smeared boots. Another man sat apart and gave orders to the first two. He glanced at the girl and smiled, but the richness of his clothing and his false manners did nothing to disguise the cruelty lines in his face, and the hard look in his eyes.

She heard their speech and tried to communicate, but the three men only laughed wickedly at her garble. They were foreigners who spoke another tongue, and though the words were unintelligible at the time, their meaning was clear. She was a prisoner for however long they decided necessary. The little girls instincts told her she had been saved from the bird by men who were more dangerous than the huge Phoebus.

Surprisingly, the leader gave her bread, meat, and ale without untying her hands to hold the food. She felt no hunger, only a great thirst. Grabbing the ale, she swallowed some then spat out the rest. The men laughed as they took the flagon from her, and replaced it with a skin of water. Breanna drank deeply, noticing from the corner of her eye the small container the leader held in his hands. One of the others grabbed and held her as jeweled fingers forced her mouth open and poured a bad-tasting liquid down her throat.

The leader waited until she had swallowed the potion before untying her hands. He pointed toward the side of the wagon, and she went there to release her nights water in semi-privacy. Brenna believed without the rich mans presence, the other two might have hurt her, a thought that kept her from running away, for she was afraid her recapture might result in harsh punishment. Quickly, one of the three secured her hands and feet, and threw her back into the wagon.