Secret Sisters

Sir Danielle Longbow’s supernatural steed tore up the road as it galloped through the Kingdom of Crann with the War Witch Lupita Smith by her side.

“Slow down, Dan,” yelled the witch. “We can’t keep up.”

The irony of a steed called Djeithir, meaning haste, not keeping up with her ripped a smile through the stern set of the knight’s face. She dared to glance back at the mix of dragon, tree and undead horse that raced along the road behind her.

Djeither as the first of its kind had named itself a curaogine. Danielle’s curaogine snorted air hot enough to cause a haze.

“I can’t wait, Lupita. I might have waited too long already.” Shalakhir, whose name meant hunter, snorted beneath Sir Longbow. Branches growing between the plates of its reptilian shell formed a harness which held her in place as it raced the wind.

Villages danced towards them in a blur and away behind. Shalakhir leapt over walls as tall as the knight with ease, not slowing its pace. Reins made of living vine held Danielle as tightly as she held them.

Djeither sped past Shalakhir, showing rows of predator teeth in its grin. On it went, turning a loop because Lupita didn’t know where Danielle was going.

Sir Longbow’s steed crossed a stream, jumping from bank to bank. Its feet slipped on the mud of a rise, finding purchase in oak roots.

“This is it,” the knight yelled as her steed skidded to a stop in a village all but lost in a mix of ash trees, pines and rhododendrons with vibrant purple flowers.

“Are you sure?” Lupita asked sceptically as she dismounted.

Both gave a wary look to the moss covered church at the heart of the village.

Invader’s religion, Danielle thought. It was a church of the ‘One God,’ not the seven gods people of Crann and the lands around had worshiped for centuries.

“Eirich cursach,” said the knight and the witch in perfect synchronicity. Sharing a smile, they looked at the dragon/fire horse/trees lose their equine appearance and form into trees with shimmering trunks. Branches reached towards the sky as roots dug into the ground.

“Who are you who ride monsters into our home?” asked a man whose face seemed to be melting in folds of grey skin.

“I am Danielle Longbow, daughter of Darren. I’m told my father visited this village often.”

“Perhaps he did,” said the toothless man, looking more at the new trees behind the visitors than at Danielle and Lupita. “What’s it to you?” He scratched at an insect bite on his liver spotted arm.

“As I said, I’m his daughter, Sir Danielle Longbow.”

“Sir?” the villager tilted his head, blue eyes squinting at her. “You’re a woman, aren’t you?” Black eyebrows, the boldest colour on his whole body, wiggled as he frowned.

“Yes, there are plenty of women serving as knights in Crann now, since the war.” She touched a hand to her shield, then waved it at her sword.

Other villagers, no younger than the man, emerged from ramshackle cottages overgrown with moss and wildflowers.

“Says she’s a knight,” the man with gnarled fingers pointed a shaking hand at Danielle.

“Who does?” asked a woman who rocked from side to side as she walked with a limp in both legs. Her back had her hunched over, only her two short walking sticks held her upright.

“This one,” he waved at Sir Longbow. “What did you say your name was, lass?”

“Danielle Longbow,” said the knight.

“Sir,” Lupita noted, holding up a brown finger.

“Oh yeah?” said the old man. “Where are you from then?” He cocked his head again, stepping closer as the villagers crowded around. One couple, the youngest, looked to be in their fifties.

“Leonor,” said Lupita with the undertone of anger she always had when people subtly hinted at the unusual darkness of her skin by pointing it out or asking ‘where she was from’.

“Sir Darren Longow used to visit my village as well,” Danielle said. She frowned at the old man, knowing how much Lupita hated being othered by words such as his. She took her lover’s hand. “I wondered if he had any children here. They would be siblings of mine.”

“Oh. You want to meet them?” asked the old man, who was inspecting Lupita suspiciously as if she was more interesting than the magical trees the pair rode into the village.

“Them? They’re here?” Sir Longbow gave a hopeful smile to her wife.

“They don’t go anywhere.” The old man hung his head. “Come on. If you must see ‘em.” He walked painfully slowly towards the church. “Don’t get a lot of visitors here.” With his back turned, he had revealed a gaping hole in his brown woollen sweater.

Sheep bleated as they walked towards the wooden fence around the church. As with everything else, it looked long abandoned. Only the path of stone slabs had been kept clean.

Rocks dropped in Danielle’s stomach, weighing her down, forcing up the taste of bile. A well oiled door opened without a creak at the man’s slightest touch. Bathed in the warm tones of a stained glass sun, the man hobbled on. Pews polished by decades of restless bums sat either side of the aisle. A lectern watched over the aged decadence of the rural church. The fiery sun, symbol of the One God, carved into the lectern was the only pristine article in the village.

Led through a door to the side of the stage, the knight and witch walked out of an open door at the back which had rusted in place on the hinges.

Gulping as she entered the graveyard, Danielle kept pace with her guide. “This is the one.” He stooped lower than usual to aim his hand at a cairn of stones held together by three cornered leek blooming with white flowers.

Sir Longbow exhaled a breath of regret that stank of vomit. “They’re here?”

“Alice and Andrew. Twins.” He nodded slowly, stiffly. “Winter took ‘em both thirty year ago. “Weren’t more ‘n babes at the time. Their mama greeted somethin’ awful for months. Never the same, she was. Poor lass.” He shook his head as if the memory was as fresh as the white blooms on the grave.

“The mother?” Lupita asked for Danielle, who was weeping silently.

“She passed with a wound years ago an all.” His yellow tongue licked grey lips. “Sorry, Lady Sir.” His tongue tripped over the words. “Not what you wanted to hear I’m sure.”

“Too late,” Danielle knelt by the grave.

“Nothing’s later than it ever has to be. It’s the will of God. I think he meant this to teach you something. Every trial is a lesson, says the almighty.” His voice was the warm vapours of hot tea on a cold morning. Warm, homely and comforting.

Danielle didn’t like tea. “Bit of an arse then, isn’t it?”

“Hey, lass. Don’t blaspheme. Not in front of me. You’ll never hear my revelation that way.” Insult rose beneath the consolation in his voice.

“I don’t want you revealing yourself to me anyway.” The knight stood, towering over him and all around. Wiping her tears away, she sniffed. “If they’re all dead I suppose there’s no chance of meeting them. I’ll go and leave you to pray to the god of the invaders.”

“They’re not all dead,” said the old woman who walked with two sticks. “Alice and Andrew passed on, God bless them. Eva was still fit and well when she left here twenty years back. There’s a good chance she’s fine and well.”

“Eva?” Danielle’s eyes locked on the old woman’s cloudy eyes. “Where did she go?”

“To Leonor, Sir. Are you really a knight?” The old women’s teeth mourned their pearly white days and fallen friends. Her smile was withered corn on the cob.

“I really am. What was the family name Eva would go by? Please.” Pressing her palms together as the followers of the Northern God did when praying or begging, she bowed her head to the woman.

“Bond, Eva Bond. She won’t be that anymore though. She was a bonny lass. A lad will have snatched her up long ago and planted a dozen children in her by now no doubt.” Clear envy coated the old woman’s words.

“What did she look like?”

“Brown eyes o’ course. Brown hair with a bit o’ yellow in it. Tall like you. Muckle smile on her.”

“Muckle?” Lupita asked.

“Big,” Danielle explained, smiling to her wife.

“Biggest smile in the village, had all of the young lads and some of the auld ones under her spell.” The greying eyes turned to the old man.

“A bonnie lass, ye ken.” The grey skinned man nodded wistfully.

“Scars?” Sir Longbow asked. “Birthmarks?”

“A red tear shape on her left hand. Faded a lot over the years. Might be gone by now.” The woman winked at Danielle, showing the knight the purple veins of her eyelid.

“Thank you. Is there anything I can do for you?” Danielle knelt in the wild grass between the graves to look the woman in the eyes. “I don’t even know your name.”

“I’m Siobhan Brown. This auld gasbag daftie is my husband Oliver.” The stooped woman smiled. “If you can do one thing, tell good people we’re here. There are hames that can be fixed up for young folk. Eighty people lived in the village once. Now it’s just eight and none o’ us are havin any bairns.”

“Bairns?” Lupita asked.

“Children.” Danielle interpreted.

Lupita nodded, taking a mental note.

“Ye’ll nae mind ‘em changing ‘hings when they come here?” Danielle fell into the accent as she did when talking to the people from the villages of Crann. Her accent became that of Fisher’s gasp where she’d grown up instead of the vague Leonor City accent she’d adopted after years in the capital.

“Less than a mind this place dyin’ ye ken?” Siobhan waved one of her walking sticks around, wobbling without it to hold her up.

“No one wants their efforts to come to nothing,” Lupita said. She smiled with a reassuring show of teeth that warmed Danielle’s heart.

“Aye. Exactly.” Mrs Brown nodded. The movement looked in danger of knocking her over.

“It’s shan, the whole thing,” said Oliver. “Nay fair. It’s beautiful here. Folk should be wanting to be here.”

“So the lassie you’ll be looking for is your sister?” asked Siobhan.

“Aye.” Sir Longbow nodded.

“Best of luck, knight.” She waved a hand towards the dragon trees. “Don’t let the grass grow beneath your feet.”

“Thank you, Siobhan. Thank you, Oliver.” She bowed to both. Turning to look at Lupita, Danielle’s eyebrows rose.

“Let’s go then,” said the witch. “We’ll tell good people there’s a home here for them if they wish.” She bowed to the locals as well.

Both curaogine snorted into motion at the magical command given in unison by the knight and the witch. Djeithir left Shalakhir in its dust, charging back to Leonor with the haste of a bolt from a crossbow. Despite the brilliant harness Shalakhir had grown to hold Danielle safely, her bones were rattling. Her racing heart matched the thunderous pace of the hooves crashing into the ground.

In what felt like moments and hours all at once they saw the granite sprawl of Leonor. The mighty beats slowed to the pace of a horse’s gallop. At the first buildings they began to trot.

The usual gasps of awe from toddlers and their grandparents alike gave the riding duo smiles. They immediately asked everyone they knew to ask for the woman called Eva Bond with the tear shaped birthmark on her hand.

A day later, staying in the home of their friend Paulina Castel, word came. A messenger boy led Danielle through the grid streets of rebuilt Leonor. They crossed the drawbridge over the chasm of the mine which supplied the granite the city was built from, which doubled as a defensive pit around the heart of the old city. The well planned formations of the rebuilt center became a rabble of unique structures. Their only unifying feature was the granite and their fireproof tiled roofs. It was a legal requirement enforced strictly by the Queen after half of the city had burnt down during the invasion of the Empire of the Holy Proclamation years before.

“This is the place, Sir Longbow.” The messenger bowed to her.

“Thank you. Have a coin for your troubles.” She handed him his years pay to see his eyes widen in shock.

Bowing again, he mumbled more thanks and left, slipping the coins into his boots.

After a deep breath, Danielle knocked on the metal fronted door. The rattle echoed off grey walls behind her.

“Aye? Coming.” After some muffled huffing and puffing, a ruddy cheeked woman with black hair opened the door. Too young and lacking the birthmark, it wasn’t Eva.

“I was hoping to find Eva Bond. I don’t know what her married name is.” Looking down at the girl, Danielle watched a mixture of pain and embarrassment wash over her face.

“It’s Fletcher now. Evaline Fletcher. You’re out of luck for a conversation though.”

“She’s not dead?” Sir Longbow’s heart stopped for a moment.

“No. Perhaps that would be better. Forgive me, Sir, but why are ye here?”

“My name is Danielle Longbow, son of Darren. Eva. Evaline, sorry, is my sister. I wanted to meet her.” The knight’s brown eyes were unblinking as the girl at the door did a double take.

“You?” The girls voice rose to a mad squeak of disbelief. “Sorry, Sir. Come in.” The girl vanished into the shadow behind the door.

Damp, rotting smells assaulted Danielle’s nose. A rat crossed her path behind the guide. An open door revealed the long lost sister sitting in a rocking chair with blank eyes and spittle sparkling down her chin.

“Mammy,” said the girl. “Sir Longbow’s here. If you want to give her a piece of your mind, now’s the time.” Shaking her head, the girl looked at the knight. In the dim light the bags under her eyes were all the deeper. “This is it I’m afraid. She had a funny spell after drinking one night and never recovered.”

“How long has she been like this?”

“A few months.”

Months? thought Danielle. Another opportunity slipped through my grasp.

“Your name?”

“Deandra. People call me Dee.”

“My wife is a healer.”

“You can’t heal me ma, knight. She’s long gone. Look at her. The candle’s flickering but no one’s home.”

“Eva. Evaline. I don’t know if you can here me or understand me. I want to say I’m sorry. I didn’t come looking for you until it was too late.” Danielle knelt at the feet of the woman who stank of her own filth.

Dee put a hand on her aunt’s shoulder. “It’s alright. Thank you for coming. Mammy said you were a knight. She said a lot of horrible things about you. About her da’. She was angry. All the time. She drank. She never stopped.” Dee sighed. “She’s stopped now.”