The Desert Spear

  After that, the fields still needed weeding, and the ripest produce had to be harvested for the day’s meals, or for pickling and preserves. After all that, there was still always something around the farm that needed fixing, or sharpening.

  The only time they really spent together was at meals, and they said little. Renna was careful not to bend close as she served and cleared. Harl never gave any sign he was looking at her differently, but he grew increasingly irritable as the days wore on.

  “Creator, my back hurts,” he said one night at supper as he bent to fill another mug from the keg of Boggin’s Ale that Meada had sent back with them after the burning. Renna had lost count of how many he had filled that night.

  Harl gasped in pain as he tried to straighten, and stumbled, sloshing his ale. Renna was there in an instant, steadying him and catching the mug before it spilled. Harl leaned heavily on her as she dragged him back to his chair.

  Renna and Beni had often been called upon to knead the pain from Harl’s bad back, and she did it now without thinking, working her father’s tensed muscles with strong, skilled fingers.

  “Atta girl,” her father groaned, closing his eyes and pressing against her hands. “You were always the good one, Ren. Not like yer sisters, with no loyalty to kith and kin. Dunno how you turned out all right, with those two deserters as an example.”

  Renna finished her ministrations, but Harl grabbed her about the waist and pulled her close before she could pull out of reach. He looked up at her with tears in his eyes.

  “You’ll never leave me, girl, will you?” he asked.

  “No, Da,” Renna said. “Course not.” She squeezed him briefly, and then pulled quickly back, taking his mug to the keg and refilling it.

  Renna awoke that night to a crash as something struck her door. She leapt from bed, pulling on her dress, but there was no other sound. She crept to the door and pressed her ear to the wood, hearing a low wheeze.

  Carefully, she lifted the bar and opened the door a crack, seeing her father passed out on the floor, regurgitated ale staining the front of his nightshirt.

  “Creator make me strong,” Renna begged as she soaked a rag to clean the vomit from him and the floor, then half carried, half dragged her father back to his room.

  Harl wept as she heaved him into his bed, clinging to her desperately. “Can’t lose you, too,” he sobbed over and over. Renna sat awkwardly on the edge of the bed, holding him as he cried, and then disengaged as he drifted off to sleep. She went quickly back to her room and barred the door again.

  The next morning, Renna came back into the house after collecting eggs in the barn and found Harl popping the pins out of the hinges of her door.

  “The door broke?” she asked, her heart clutching.

  “Nope,” Harl grunted. “Need the wood to patch a hole in the barn wall. Don’t matter none, you don’t need it. Ent no marital relations going on in this room no more.” He hefted the door and carried it off to the barn, leaving Renna stunned.

  She felt like a frightened animal for the rest of the day, and didn’t sleep at all that night, all her senses attuned toward the thick curtain hung over the doorway.

  But nothing stirred the curtain that night, or the night that followed, or for a week after.

  Renna wasn’t sure what woke her. Corelings had tested the wards earlier in the night, but the sounds had faded to silence as they gave over to search out easier prey.

  The only light was a soft glow around the edges of the curtain in the doorway from the fire in the common room, burned low in the night. It threw a dim light over her bed, though the rest of the tiny room was bathed in darkness.

  But Renna knew immediately that she wasn’t alone. Her father was in the room.

  Careful to keep still, she reached out into the darkness with her senses, trying to convince herself it was only a dream, but she could smell the stink of ale and sweat, and hear his tense breathing. Floorboards creaked as he shifted from foot to foot. She kept waiting for him to do something, but he just stood there, watching her.

  Had he done this before? Snuck into her room and watched her sleep? The thought sickened her. Afraid to stir, her eyes flicked to the curtain, but escape that way seemed unlikely. It would take her four steps to reach the doorway. Harl could intercept her in one.

  The window was closer, but even if she could unlatch the shutters and throw them open before he got to her, it was deep in the night, and demons prowled the darkness outside.

  Time seemed to slow as Renna desperately tried to think of a way to escape. If she ran through the yard, she might make it to the barn before a coreling caught her. The big barn was warded, and not connected to the house. If she made it there, Harl couldn’t follow till morning, and perhaps by then he would have slept off his drink.

  Running into the night went against her every instinct. It was suicide. But where else was there to go? She was trapped in the house with him until sunrise.

  Just then Harl shifted, and she caught her breath. He came slowly over to the bed, and Renna froze, like a rabbit paralyzed with fear. As he came into the light, she saw he was clad only in his nightshirt, his arousal jutting through the cloth. He came close to her, reaching out to touch her hair. He ran his fingers through it, and then sniffed at them, his hand dropping again to gently caress her face.

  “Jus’ like yer mam,” he mumbled, and ran his hand lower, past her throat and collar, tracing the smooth skin to her breast.

  He squeezed, and Renna shrieked. Miss Scratch woke with a start and hissed, sinking claws deep into Harl’s arm. He cried out, and terror gave Renna strength. She shoved at him, throwing him backward. Drunk, Harl stumbled and fell to the floor. Renna was through the curtain in an instant.

  “Girl, you get back here!” Harl cried, but she ignored him, running hard for the back door to the small barn. He stumbled after her, tangling in the curtain and ripping it from the rod.

  She was through the barn door before he freed himself, but there was no lock from the inside. She grabbed a heavy old saddle, throwing it against the door, and ran through the stalls.

  “Corespawn it, Renna! What’s gotten into you?” Harl cried as he burst through the door. There was a cry as he fell over the saddle, cursing loudly.

  “Girl, I will tan the skin off your arse, you don’t come out of hiding!” he called, and there was a crack like a whip. He had pulled a set of leather reins off the barn wall.

  Renna made no reply, crouching in the darkness of an empty stall behind an old rain barrel as Harl fumbled with the striker to light a lantern. He finally managed to catch the wick, and a flickering light sprang to life, sending shadows dancing around the barn.

  “Where you gone to, girl?” Harl called, as he began to search the stalls. “Gonna be worse, I have to drag you out.” He cracked the reins again to accentuate his point, and Renna’s heart jumped. Outside, the demons, drawn to the commotion, flung themselves against the wards with renewed fervor. Wardlight flashed through cracks in the wood, accompanied by coreling shrieks and the crackle of magic.

  She wound like a spring as he drew closer, every muscle coiling tighter and tighter until she was certain she would burst. His muttered curses grew fouler and fouler as he went, and he began flailing around with the reins in frustration.

  He was only inches from her hiding place when Renna burst free, running deeper into the barn. She came to the back wall, cornered, and turned to face him.

  “Dunno what’s taken you, girl,” Harl said. “’Spect I need to beat some sense into you.”

  There was no way to get past this time, so Renna turned and scampered up the ladder to the hayloft. She tried to pull it up after her, but Harl gave a shout and caught the bottom rung, yanking it back down and almost pulling Renna down with it. She only barely managed to catch herself on the trap, and lost her grip on the ladder completely. Harl hooked the lantern and began to climb up after her, the reins in his teeth.

  Renna kicked out in desperation, catc
hing her father full in the face. He was knocked back off the ladder, but the floor was covered with hay and broke the worst of his fall. He grabbed the ladder again before she could pull it away, and came up fast. She kicked again, but he caught her foot and shoved hard, sending her sprawling.

  And then he was up in the loft with her, and there was nowhere to run. She was only half on her feet when his fist connected with her face, and light exploded behind her eyes.

  “You brung this on yourself, girl,” Harl said, punching her again in the stomach. The air exploded from her lungs, and she gasped in pain. He gripped her nightshirt in one sinewy fist and yanked, tearing half of it away.

  “Please, Da!” she cried. “Don’t!”

  “Don’t?” he echoed with a harsh laugh. “Since when do you say don’t to boys in the hayloft, girl? Ent this where you do your sinning? Ent this where you bring shame to our family? You’ll stick any drunk that falls asleep in a stall, but yer too good for your own da?”

  “No!” Renna cried.

  “Corespawned right, yer not,” Harl said, grabbing the back of her neck and pushing her face down into the hay as he lifted his nightshirt with his free hand.

  When it was over, Renna lay crying in the hay. Harl’s weight was still on her, but the strength seemed to have gone out of him. She shoved hard, and he rolled off her without resistance.

  She wanted to shove him right off the side of the loft and break his neck, but she couldn’t stop sobbing enough to rise. Her cheek and lip throbbed where he had struck her, and her stomach was on fire, but it was nothing compared with the burning between her legs. If Harl had even noticed the evidence that she had never been with a man before, he gave no sign.

  “That’s it, girl,” Harl said, patting her shoulder weakly. “You go ahead and have yerself a good cry. It used to help Ilain, before she got to liking it.”

  Renna scowled. Ilain had never liked it, no matter what he said.

  “You ever do that again,” she said, “I’ll tell everyone in Town Square what you done.”

  Harl barked a laugh. “No one will believe you. The goodwives’ll just think the town tramp is looking for an excuse to move close enough to get her claws into their husbands, and none of them will care for that.

  “And besides,” he added, wrapping a gnarled hand around her throat, “you tell anyone, girl, and I’ll kill you.”

  Renna watched the sun set from the warded porch, hugging herself as the sky washed with color. Not long ago, she had stood every night looking to the east, dreaming of the day Arlen Bales would return from the Free Cities to fulfill his promise and take her away.

  She still watched the road each evening, but now she looked to the west, praying to see Cobie Fisher come for her. Did he still think of her? Had he meant what he said? Wouldn’t he have come by now if he had?

  Her hope faded further each night, till it was little more than a flicker, and then nothing but a coal buried in sand, a warmth buried away for a use that might never come.

  But anything that kept her outside a moment longer was worth it, even a dream that cut as much as it soothed. Soon she would have to go inside and serve her father dinner, and work her evening chores with his eyes on her until he said it was time for bed.

  And then she would go obediently to his bed, and lie still as he had his way. She thought of Ilain, and all the years she had undergone this torment, back when Renna was too young to understand. How she had survived with her mind intact was beyond Renna, but Ilain and Beni had always been stronger than her.

  “Gettin’ dark, girl,” Harl called. “Come and shut the door ’fore the corelings get you.”

  For a moment, the image danced across her mind. The corelings would rise in a moment. It would be a simple matter to step across the wards and end her torment.

  But Renna found she didn’t have the strength for that, either. She turned and went inside.

  “Oh, don’t you grumble at me, Wooly,” Renna told the sheep as she sheared. “You’ll thank me to be rid of your coat in this heat.”

  Beni and the boys used to make mock of her when she spoke to the animals like people, but with them gone, Renna found herself doing it more and more. The cats and dogs and the animals in the stalls were the only friends she had in the world, and when Harl was in the fields, they lent sympathetic ears as Renna poured her heart out to them.

  “Renna,” came a whisper behind her. She jumped and Wooly bleated as she accidentally cut him, but Renna barely noticed, spinning to find Cobie Fisher just a few feet away.

  She dropped the shears, looking around frantically, but Harl was nowhere to be seen. Out weeding the fields, he would likely be gone hours more, but she took no chances, grabbing Cobie’s arm and pulling him behind the big barn.

  “What are you doing here?” she whispered.

  “Bringing a few casks of rice out to Mack Pasture’s farm up the road,” Cobie said. “I’ll succor there, and head back to the Square in the morning.”

  “My father will kill you if he sees you,” Renna said.

  Cobie nodded. “I know. I don’t care.” He fumbled with his message pouch, pulling out a long necklace of smooth brook stones threaded on a stout leather cord with a fishbone clasp.

  “It ent much, but it’s what I could afford,” he said, handing the necklace to Renna.

  “It’s beautiful,” she said, taking the gift. It wrapped around her neck twice and still hung past her breasts.

  “Keep thinking about you, Renna,” Cobie said. “Tender Harral and my da told me to forget you, but I can’t do it. I see you every time I close my eyes. I want you to come back with me tomorrow. The Tender will marry us if we go to him and beg; I know he will. He did it for your sister, when she ran off with Jeph Bales, and once we ’re joined before the Creator, nothing your da says can pull us apart.”

  “Honest word?” Renna asked, her eyes brimming with tears.

  Cobie nodded and pulled her to him, kissing her deeply.

  But Cobie only kept control for a moment, as Renna pushed him back against the barn wall and sank to her knees. He gasped and his nails dug grooves in the wood of the barn wall while she worked. His knees bucked, and as he slipped down to the ground, Renna straddled him and lifted her skirts.

  “I…I’ve never…” Cobie stuttered, but she put a finger to his lips to silence him and sank herself onto him.

  Cobie threw his head back in pleasure, and Renna smiled. This wasn’t like it was with Harl, rough and unfeeling. This was how it should be. She covered Cobie’s face in kisses as she rose and fell, finding her own pleasure as his hands roamed her body.

  “I love you,” he whispered, and spent himself inside her. She cried and kissed him. They held each other in that warm glowing embrace for a time, and then stood, readjusting their clothes. Renna cast a wary eye around the corner of the barn, but there was no sign of her father.

  “My father goes out into the fields early,” Renna said. “Right after breakfast. If you come then, he’ll be gone till lunchtime.”

  “We ’ll be at the Holy House before he even realizes you’re gone,” Cobie said, squeezing her tightly. “Pack your things tonight and have them ready. I’ll come as early as I can.”

  “There’s nothing to pack,” Renna said. “I’ve no dowry but myself, but I promise I can be a good wife. I can cook and ward and keep your home…”

  Cobie laughed, kissing her. “I want no dowry. Only you.”

  Renna hid the necklace in her apron pocket, and was obedient the rest of the day and night, giving her father no reason to doubt her. It was true that she had nothing to pack, but she went to each of her friends, the animals, to whisper her goodbyes. She cried over Miss Scratch, lamenting the kittens she would never see.

  “You’ll be Mrs. Scratch when the kits come,” Renna said, “even if that good-for-nothing tabby don’t help you care for ’em.”

  She scanned the animals in the room, spotting the likely sire. “You take care of your kits,” she admonish
ed, keeping her voice low so her father wouldn’t hear, “or I’ll come back and throw you in the water trough.”

  She lay awake all night as Harl snored beside her, and before the first crack of light came through the shutters, she had porridge on the fire and was out collecting eggs from the coop in the barn. She went about the rest of her chores that morning aware that she was performing each for the last time, and as she worked, she kept casting eyes up the road.

  She didn’t have to wait long. There was a galloping in the distance, but it faded before it came too close. Soon after, Cobie came around the bend in the road, sweaty and breathless.

  “Galloped all the way,” he said, kissing her. “Couldn’t wait to see you.”

  Pinecone needed a rest, so Cobie tethered her behind the barn while Renna drew water from the well. The mare drank greedily and began grazing while they fell into each other’s arms. Before long, she was bent over against the barn with her skirts around her waist.

  And it was there Harl found them.

  “I knew it!” he cried, swinging his pitchfork hard at Cobie ’s head. The shaft caught him on the temple and sent him reeling.

  “Cobie!” Renna shouted, running to him and cradling him in her arms as he tried to rise.

  “I knew sumpthin’ was up when I saw you weepin’ over them cats, girl,” Harl said. “You think yer da’s an idiot?”

  “I don’t care!” Renna shouted. “Cobie and I are in love, and I’m leaving with him!”

  “The Core you are,” Harl said, grabbing her arm. “You’ll get your ass in the house this instant, you want to keep the skin on it.”

  But Cobie’s meaty hand locked over Harl’s wrist, twisting and pulling it off Renna.

  “I’m sorry, sir,” he said, “but I ent gonna let you do that.”