The Burning Sword (6 page)

The night air was bitter with cold, the stars crisp and bright in the velvet sky. The atmosphere seemed to be heavy with anticipation, yet the only sound was the rushing of the grass, a noise that could have easily just been the wind.

Faith held up her hand, using the moonlight to mimic the same hand signals she had created for hunting purposes. The girls behind her stopped, silent. A low hoot darted through the silence, and the tension suddenly left Faith ’s body as she returned the call with her own, higher pitched hoot. Eli had sent his signal. His group were safe.

Martha sent her own twittering hoot a few seconds later, and Faith again felt enveloped by relief. Martha was safe.

The girls were shivering as they waited for Sibyl’s call. Faith was wondering whether this late night activity was a good idea in the colder weather, but dismissed it. This seemed so much more serious, as if they actually were in battle, sneaking around like spies.

Finally, Sibyl hooted, though it sounded as if it was from a long way away. Faith, Eli and Martha’s hoots all chimed together as they replied, the signal for the army to regroup.

The journey back seemed longer and colder than Faith had remembered. Some of the girls were shivering, especially the younger ones; Faith handed the littlest her coat, and instantly regretted it, as the cold bit through her.

When they finally reached the village, Martha and Eli’s groups were already there, huddled together, shuddering, their enthusiasm somewhat diminished.

They waited for Sibyl as patiently as they could with the chilly wind freezing them down to their very bones. Just when Faith was about to submit herself to panicking, Sibyl appeared, followed by a group of weary girls.

The group was promptly mobbed by their friends, and Faith found herself hugging Sibyl tightly in relief. As they let go of one another, Faith noticed that Sibyl didn’t look quite as relieved to be back as she might have been.

“Is everything alright?” Faith asked her urgently, searching her expression for an idea of what was wrong.

Sibyl sighed heavily, and gestured over to a small huddle of girls. As Faith went towards them she had to shoulder her way through the tightly packed group. Eventually, she saw what all the gasps and exclamations were about.

Isabel was sat on the floor, clutching her ankle, her face white and strained. Her breath was coming in short, shallow gasps, but as she saw Faith , she attempted to give a weak smile. It wasn’t convincing.

“What happened?” Faith asked, sinking down next to her. Martha had already run to get some bandages, and was trying to pries Isabel’s fingers away from her injured ankle so that she could try to patch her up.

“I slipped,” Isabel replied, finally letting go of her ankle, and gasping in pain. “It was just me… me, being clumsy… didn’t see a… tree root.”

“Oh, Isabel,” Faith sighed, taking hold of her friend’s hand. “It would be you, wouldn’t it?”

Isabel let out a light laugh, but it turned into a shriek of pain as Martha wrapped her ankle up tightly, using what seemed to be a great deal of bandages.

“Sorry,” Martha apologized, “but this will help.”

It was a good job that Martha had practiced first aid, Faith realized, as she watched her best friend at work. As she sat there, looking at the scene- the pair of them, one in severe pain, the other trying to ease it, she reflected back over the night.

It had been another of their nighttime activities. Faith had suggested that they practiced working as a team in difficult situations; they had been aiming to creep down to the base of the mountain, if they could. However, this was seriously flawed, as none of them had realized just how long this would take, perhaps rather naïvely.

They had been exploring further and further each time, and were all now experts at stuffing their blankets with clothes to make it look as if they were still there. So far it had all gone smoothly, but Faith had known that it would only be a short amount of time before something went wrong. And now it had. How on earth they were going to explain Isabel suddenly having a broken ankle, Faith had no idea.

Footsteps behind her didn’t worry her at all at first, until she heard a very familiar cough. Her head whipping round, she looked up to see Margaret, hurriedly dressed with her hair uncombed. This unkempt appearance was so different from the usual Margaret, who was-in her own words- a ‘beacon of immaculacy’ that Faith had to blink several times before she was completely convinced that it was indeed her.

“What are you doing, Faith ?” Margaret asked, her voice dangerously steady.

“Err, well,” Faith began, racking her brains for an idea. She saw all the worried faces of the girls behind her, even Eli looking anxious, and made a gesture for them to scatter. They did, quickly and silently.

“Well?” Margaret inquired her foot tapping out an impatient beat upon the floor.

“Well, Isabel and I were going to the, err, toilet.” It was the best she could come up with. “And Isabel slipped. Martha heard us, and brought some things to help with her foot.”

“Martha heard you? Where was she?” Margaret asked.

“In bed,” Faith replied, seconds before she realized that Martha’s hut was the other side of the village.

“I see,” Margaret replied, very slowly. “Explain to me then, Faith , why all the other people I see around me decided to join you?”

“What other people?” Faith asked innocently, looking behind Margaret in a pointed sort of way.

Margaret turned. “I see they seem to have abandoned you,” she said. “But, as I checked in with most of their mothers before I came to see you, I’m sure they’ll have some explaining to do.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Faith replied, and she thought she’d done quite a convincing job.

Margaret held out a bundle of Faith ’s own clothes, the very ones that she had used to stuff a girl shaped huddle under her bed covers a few hours previously. “This is what I mean, Faith . You need to explain yourself.”

Faith ’s head was spinning with explanations, excuses. They were teaching each other to knit? Not believable enough. And anyway, anything innocent wouldn’t explain why they had had to do it at night.

She looked helplessly at Martha and Isabel. Martha bit her lip anxiously, as Isabel shook her head. Her only option was to tell them the truth, and this was not something she wanted to do. Not at all.

The other mothers were gathering, some looking puzzled, others looking angry, dragging their daughters along behind them. Faith ’s own mother looked strangely emotionless as she surveyed her daughter.

Faith stood up, wiping her hands on the back of her skirt. “First, could Isabel’s mother please help us sort her out? I think she’s the priority at the moment.”

Isabel’s mother ran forward with a small shriek, taking her daughter by the shoulders, and looking at her pale face. With the help of Martha, they carried her towards their hut, leaving Faith to face Margaret alone. She was only alone for a second or two, however, as Sibyl shook herself free of her mother’s vice-like grip, and moved to stand next to Faith , Marian and Annie following suit. Before long, they all stood in a group before the women, even Eli joining with a guilty looking grin.

“We’re an army,” Faith said, and her words seemed to echo around the group, cutting through the silence like her sword would. Her sword. It was hanging at her side, barely noticeable. She pulled it out of her belt, swinging it up into the air, watching the expressions of the women before her as the sparks arced out across the sky, lighting their faces eerily in the glow. It made the hollows of their eyes darker, only a glint from deep within the darkness revealing that they actually had eyes there.

“Yes, yes,” Margaret muttered. “We’ve all seen your magic sword thing, but that doesn’t mean you can use it. What gives you the idea that you lot would be any good at fighting?”

“Only women can use this sword,” Faith explained. “Why would a sword that only works for women exist if women couldn’t fight?”

Margaret looked at her with an expression that clearly suggested that she thought that Faith was completely mad. “The sword only works for women?” she said, slowly.

“Yes,” Faith said, passing it quickly to Eli. The sparks immediately stopped, and the sword looked awkward and too small in his hand. He passed it back, and the sparks started up again.

“Okay, it works for women. But there’s only one sword, how are you meant to pass it round during a fight?” Margaret demanded, her eyes still on the sword.

“That’s not the point!” put in Sibyl. “If women can fight, we don’t need a special sword to do so. Everything we’ve ever been told has been a lie- we can fight, we are as able as the men.”

Margaret stared at her. “And you believe this?” she asked, her voice sounding hoarse.

“I do,” piped up Marian.

“Me too!” called out Daisy.

Voices all started ringing out, as Faith ’s army stood up to the women.

“And me!”

“I do too!”

“I believe it!”

Margaret looked taken aback. Faith felt a rushing surge of pride for her army, pride that they were fearless, pride that they stood by her, even when faced by adversity.

“What about you, Eli?” one of the other women asked, pointing at him. Eli’s glance flickered to Faith ’s fierce expression, then to Sibyl, Marian and Daisy, who gave him an apprehensive look, wondering what on earth he would come out with.

“Well,” he said. “At first I thought they were idiots to think that all this practicing would pay off. But now, I believe what Sibyl just said. Faith has trained them hard, and now, well, I think they could take on a squatter army. I mean, err, the other villager’s army.”

Faith had never heard Eli ever praise anything before, and so she was shocked to hear him praising her army. She looked at him in surprise, and he actually smiled, in a genuine way.

“Well,” Margaret butted in, “this is all simply fascinating, but I doubt you have the skill you believe, my dears. Just look at Isabel- injured! We don’t want our husbands and sons to come back to feral daughters and future wives- we want them to come back and see us as having worked hard to keep the village alive.”

“Look, if we don’t do something, there won’t be any husbands or sons coming back,” Faith argued, angry at Margaret’s condescending tone.

“That is just scare mongering!” Margaret shouted, her cheeks reddening with anger. “I won’t have you scaring people!”

“It’s true!” Faith replied. Her army nodded their heads vigorously. “We’ve got to help.”

“Maybe they’re right, Margaret,” murmured a steady voice. Faith looked over in amazement at her mother, who had stepped forward.

“Yes,” said Martha’s mother. “Our sons are fighting, our husbands are facing the enemy, and all we are doing is sitting here at home.”

“No!” Margaret shouted. “We’re not ‘sitting at home’! We’re knitting socks for them, we’re…”

“Knitting socks?!” cried Marian’s mother. “What good is that?!”

“Our girls have got the right idea,” said Faith ’s mother. “We should be readying ourselves to help them, to protect the village.” Faith stared at her mother, who was looking back at her and suddenly realized that there was a great deal of love and pride in her mother’s gaze. She suddenly felt a great deal braver, a great deal more confident.

“Anyone is welcome to join our army,” Faith said firmly, and was surprised to hear everyone stop muttering, and look directly at her, as if she drew attention; as if she knew what she was talking about. “If any of you want to join, you will be greatly appreciated.” The words seemed to flow out of her before she thought about them, and for the first time, her commanding tone didn’t feel out of place, as it had when instructing her army. For the first time, she felt like a captain.