The Desert Spear

Letting the axe fall to the ground, she reached into her apron pocket, pulling out the long brook stone necklace Cobie had given her. She had known better to wear it when her father might see, but she had treasured it in her secret moments. She put it on now, and it felt right about her shoulders. A proper promise gift.

Then she took up the skin of water she had hidden, slipped out the barn door, lifted her skirts, and ran down the road as fast as she could.

The run was harder than Renna thought, if not longer. She was strong, but unused to running distances. Her lungs burned before long, and her thighs cried out in protest. She stopped when she had no choice, gulping water from the skin and panting hard, but she never rested more than a few minutes before setting off again.

By the time she made it to the bridge over the brook, her eyes were blurry, and she felt drunk on Boggin’s Ale. She collapsed on the bank, dunking her face in the cold running water and drinking deeply.

Her head clear for the first time in almost an hour, she looked up at the sky. The sun was dipping low, but there was time enough, if she kept on. Her legs and feet and chest all screamed as she rose, but Renna ignored the lances of pain and ran on.

She saw a few people as she ran through the Square, mostly folk checking their wards for the night. They looked at her curiously, and one called to her, but she ignored them, heading for the one place everyone in Tibbet’s Brook knew, Hog’s general store.

“Shopsh closhed,” Stam Tailor slurred at her, heading down Hog’s porch steps as Renna started her way up. He stumbled, and Renna had to stop to catch him.

“What do you mean, the shop’s closed?” she asked, trying to keep the desperation out of her voice. “Hog’s supposed to be open till sunset.” If Cobie wasn’t at the store, she had no idea where to look for him, and would have to run on to Ilain.

“Thatsh what I shaid!” Stam shouted, nodding wildly. “Ay, sho I hadda bit too much ale, and sloshed up a bit. Like thatsh reason to kick poor Stam out and lock up early?”

Renna caught a whiff of him and recoiled. The vomit on his shirt was still wet. It seemed some gossip, like that about Stam being a drunk, was all too true.

Setting him on the rail, she ran up the steps and pounded on the door. “Mister Rusco!” she cried. “It’s Renna Tanner! I need to see Cobie Fisher!” She bashed her fist on the door until it hurt, but there was no response.

“He’sh alreddy gone,” Stam said, holding the banister as if for dear life. He was a sickly pale, and swayed. “Jusht been setting here on ’is porch a shpell, tryin’a…get my feet under me.”

Renna looked at him in horror, and Stam misunderstood the look. “Oh, don’ you worry yourshelf on account’a ol’ Shtam Tailor, girl,” he said, patting the air at her. “I been worsh off than thish plenny timesh. I’ll be find…fine!”

Renna nodded, waiting for him to stumble away before she ran around the back of the store. She doubted Hog would trust anyone, even Cobie, inside his store when he wasn’t there. If Cobie lived in the back, there had to be another entrance.

She was right, and found a little room next to the stables, probably meant to store tack, but big enough for a chest and a cot. She drew a breath and knocked. A moment later Cobie opened the door, and she laughed out loud in joy.

“Renna, what are you doing here?!” Cobie’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. He stuck his head out the door and looked around, then grabbed her arm and pulled her inside. She moved in to embrace him, but he had not let go her arm, and kept her away.

“Did anyone see you come?” he asked.

“Just Stam Tailor out front,” Renna said, smiling, “but he’s so drunk he probably won’t even remember.” She tried to move toward him again, but still he held her back.

“You shouldn’t have come, Ren,” Cobie said.

It felt as if he had hit her in the chest with a hammer.

“What?” she asked.

“You have to get out of here before someone finds you,” Cobie said. “If your da doesn’t kill me, mine will.”

“You’ve seen thirty summers, and you’re the size of a horse!” Renna cried. “Are you more scared of our das than I am?”

“Your da won’t kill you, Ren,” Cobie said. “He will me.”

“No, he’ll just make me pray I was dead!” Renna said.

“All the more reason you should go before he finds us together,” Cobie said. “Even if the Tender marries us, they won’t let it go. You don’t know my da. He has it in his head that I’m to marry Eber Marsh’s daughter, even if I do it with a pitchfork at my back. Paid Eber a lotta fish for the promise.”

“Then let’s run off,” Renna said, clutching at his arm. “Go to Sunny Pasture, or even the Free Cities. You could join the real Messengers’ Guild.”

“And sleep out in the naked night?” Cobie asked, aghast. “Are you mad?”

“But you said you loved me,” Renna said, clutching the brook stone necklace. “You said nothing could keep us apart.”

“That was before your da almost cut my stones off, and mine did worse,” Cobie said, looking around the room frantically. “I shouldn’t stay here tonight, either,” he muttered, “in case Harl comes looking before dark. You go to Boggin’s Hill and stay with your sister. I’ll run to my da, so he knows I din’t do nothing. Come on.” He put a hand behind Renna’s back, propelling her toward the door. She went along, shocked and bewildered.

Cobie opened the door, only to find Harl standing there, knife in hand. Behind him, one of the mollies lay collapsed and panting in the dirt. He had ridden her bareback.

“Caught you!” Harl cried, punching Cobie hard in the face. His fist, wrapped around the heavy bone hilt of his knife, turned Cobie’s head sharply to the side and knocked him to the ground. He grabbed Renna with his free hand, hard bony fingers digging painfully into her arm.

“Run on an’ beg yer sister’s succor,” he said, his face a mask of rage. “I’ll be along presently to deal with you.” His eyes flicked to Cobie as he shoved her toward the door.

“It’s not what it looks like!” Cobie cried, struggling to one knee and holding his hand out to ward off Harl. “I never asked her to come!”

“Core you didn’t,” Harl sneered, raising his knife. “Made you a promise, boy, and I aim t’keep it.”

He looked back at Renna, frozen in fear. “Get going!” he barked. “You’ll be a week in the outhouse as is. Don’t make it two!”

Renna recoiled in horror, and Harl turned from her. The night in the outhouse flashed through her mind again, seemingly endless hours of torment relived in barely a second. She thought about the aftermath, the smell of her father’s bed, and the weight of his wrinkled bones atop her as he grunted and thrust.

She thought of going back to the farm, and something inside her snapped.

“No!” she screamed, and leapt at her father, nails digging at his face like claws. He fell back in shock, knocking his head on the floor. She tried to wrest the knife from his hands, but Harl was stronger, and kept his grip.

Cobie was standing by then, but he made no move toward them. “Cobie!” she pleaded. “Help me!”