‘Be ready at sunset tomorrow,’ he told me as I started to breathe a little more easily. ‘Kill and salt three pigs, but collect every last drop of blood and fill a milk churn with it – the journey will make me very thirsty. Pack up cheese and bread and candles and two large cooking pots. Oil the wheels of your largest cart. I’ll bring horses, but you must provide the oats. And take plenty of warm clothes and blankets. There might be snow before the week is out. We will take your two sisters to their relatives, as I promised. Once that is done, I will take you north and sell you in the slave market. Your life will be short but useful to my people.’
I walked slowly home, numbed by what I had learned. But there were practicalities to consider, such as dealing with the farm animals. They would be best given to one of our neighbours. I had a lot to arrange before my life changed utterly. I was going to become a slave of the beasts and would surely not survive for very long.
I ARRIVED AT the farm at sunset, as promised, and was pleased to find the three Rowler sisters ready for the journey.
Three stout trunks waited in the yard, and upon the smallest sat Bryony, nervously picking the loose threads from her woollen gloves. Susan was standing behind Bryony, her mouth pulled down into a pouty sulk, while Nessa paced up and down impatiently. It was getting colder by the minute. They had sensibly chosen to wear their warmest woollen dresses, but their coats were thin and threadbare, offering little protection against the cold.
I halted at the open gate and stared at the girls, almost drooling. And on looking more closely, I saw that the flesh of the youngest sister would be very tender and best eaten uncooked; even raw it would melt off the bone. As for Susan, there was plenty of meat on her older bones, but I knew that her blood would be even better. I would need all the discipline I could muster to keep to the terms of my deal with the dead farmer.
Dismissing such thoughts from my head, I urged my black stallion into the yard, his hooves clattering on the flags. Behind me I led a white mare and a heavy shire horse for drawing a cart in which the two younger sisters could ride. I had stolen all three horses that very day.
I circled the yard three times before coming to a halt, then leaned down and showed my teeth in a wide smile. Terror flickered upon the faces of Bryony and Susan, but Nessa walked boldly up to me and pointed towards the shed just beyond the stables.
‘The cart’s in there,’ she said, her chin raised defiantly. ‘It’s already loaded with the provisions, but the trunks were too heavy for us . . .’
I leaped down from my horse and flexed my hairy fingers close to Nessa’s face, making the bones crack. Then, in no time at all, I harnessed the shire horse to the cart before tossing up the three trunks – feeble humans; the trunks were as light as air.
Then I smirked when Nessa noticed the freshly sharpened sabre at my belt, the one that had belonged to her father.
‘That is my father’s sword!’ she protested, her eyes widening.
‘He won’t be needing it now, little Nessa,’ I told her. ‘Anyway, we have no time to waste dwelling on the past. This white mare’s for you. Chose it specially, I did.’
‘Are my sisters to ride in the cart?’ she asked.
‘Of course – they will find it far better than walking!’ I declared.
‘But Susan has no experience in handling a horse and cart, and the going may become difficult,’ Nessa protested.
‘Fear not, little Nessa: the shire horse will be obedient to my will and your sisters will come to no harm. They can simply sit in the back of the cart.’
It had been but the work of a minute to breathe into the nostrils of the big horse and use my magic to claim its obedience. It would follow in my wake, moving only when I moved and halting when I brought my own mount to a stop.
‘You said you would bury my father,’ Nessa accused suddenly, ‘but his body was still lying there. Don’t you worry – I did it myself with the help of my sisters. However, it suggests to me that you don’t keep your promises, after all.’
‘I always keep to a trade, Nessa – but that was no such thing, merely a kind offer that I meant to carry out. Unfortunately I’ve been busy getting hold of these horses and didn’t have time. It was better that you should bury him though. It might make up for running away and leaving him to die alone.’
Nessa didn’t answer but a tear ran down each cheek and she quickly turned her back on me and struggled up into the saddle while her sisters climbed into the cart. As we rode down the track towards the crossroads, the air grew even colder and frost began to whiten the grass.
It had been difficult obtaining three horses at such short notice. I avoid killing or stealing within my own haizda, so had been forced to range far beyond it to acquire the mounts.
I hoped that Nessa wouldn’t notice the dark bloodstain on the left flank of the white mare.
There had been conflict between my people and humans for at least five thousand years. At times, during periods of Kobalos expansion, it had flared up into outright war. Now it was merely a simmering hostility.
My private domain, my haizda, is large, containing many farms and a number of small settlements which I husband and control. But once beyond its borders I become a lone enemy, likely to attract all sorts of unwelcome attention. No doubt, seeing the purrai in my possession, humans would band together and attempt to take them from me by force. For that reason it was necessary to be vigilant and travel mostly by night.
Just before dawn on the third day, it began to snow.
At first the dusting was very light, hardly adding to the white coating of frost. But the snow persisted, grew heavier, and the wind started to blow hard from the west.
‘We can’t travel in these conditions,’ Nessa protested. ‘We’ll get trapped in a drift and freeze to death!’
‘There is no choice,’ I insisted. ‘We must go on. I am hardy and can endure, but if we stop now, you poor weak humans will die!’
Despite my words I knew that the weather would soon bring us to a halt. The girls couldn’t survive more than a few days in these conditions so I was forced to change my plans.
Although the heavens were now lit with the grey light of dawn, I decided to take a risk, and after a short rest we continued on our way. We headed west now, rather than south, right into the teeth of what had become a blizzard.
At first Susan and Bryony sat cowering under the tarpaulin in the back of the open cart; both kept complaining of the cold, but I could hardly blame them for that. Then, after an hour or so, they said that when sheltering from the weather under the tarpaulin, the movement of the cart made them feel sick, so for the rest of the day they kept their heads above it, exposed to the bitter cold and damp of the blizzard. It was only a matter of time before they froze to death.