Amber Magic

Chapter Four

Sometime later they reached Froghollow, where true to its name the frogs and bog-yelpers were singing their nightly serenade. Corbin's father Tylag and his older brothers had already gone to bed, but fortunately Aunt Suzenna was still up. She did indeed have several fine helpings of her stew and more than a dozen corn muffins left over. She ladled each of them a fresh glass of chilled milk to wash the meal down. The three young men made quick work of the lot of it, leaving behind only crumbs and grease spots on the checkered tablecloth.

“Can we camp in your yard tonight, Aunt Suzenna?” asked Jak humbly. Brand and everyone else could see the sparkle in his brown eyes. “It's an awfully long trip back up to the common, and since we brought all our own gear we won't be any problem.”

Aunt Suzenna would hear nothing of it. They were marched first into the washroom and then up the steps to the guest bedroom where they stripped off their clothes and sank into the softest feather beds that either of them could recall having touched.

“Now you boys go right to sleep, you hear?” Aunt Suzenna told them. “I know you've been taking care of yourselves out there on the Isle, but you're under my roof now. I don't want to hear that you kept Corbin up all night playing Jiggers and Swap-Cards. We arise early for chores in Froghollow. There's no place for lay-abouts.”

They assured her that they would be up with the sun to help with the chores. She bade them goodnight and bustled out of the room, dousing the candles as she went. As soon as the door was shut, Jak groaned aloud in ecstasy. “Isn't this grand? I've forgotten what a proper down bed feels like… Just the smell of it is heaven!”

Brand frowned a bit in the darkness. He rubbed the clean sheets and deeply inhaled the aroma of the bed. It reminded him of his mother and father. He even felt a bit homesick.

“Aren't we taking a bit too freely from our clansmen?” he felt compelled to ask his brother. “It seems like none of the family come out to Rabing Isle to visit us anymore. I remember the summer barbecues out on the verandah. Fresh melons and toasted mussels, dad served them every year.”

Jak scoffed, but fell silent. Brand knew that their increasing isolation from the rest of the clan bothered him too. He had yet to take a wife, being too wrapped up in keeping Rabing Isle going to be out courting. The Isle had been family land for many generations back. He wasn't about to be the one who let it wither and die.

Sometime later Brand awoke with a start. He blinked, having just been on the edge of sleep. It took him a moment to figure out why he had awoken, and then he heard it again. A flapping, fluttering sound. He rose up on one elbow, looking around the room. Pale moonlight poured into the room, as the moon was nearly full. Jak was asleep, looking younger with his face relaxed and the cares of the day forgotten.

Brand was on the verge of laying back down when he heard the sound again. He turned to the window. There, silhouetted partially by the moon, was a very large horned owl. It's huge yellow eyes were luminous orbs that radiated an eldritch light. It was staring directly at him, directly into his eyes. While he watched in surprise, it dipped its head and tore at the window sash with its powerful beak. The motion forced the bird to flap its wings to stay in place. Brand was shocked to see that it had already managed to pry up the window an inch or two from the sill.

“What kind of changeling are you?” demanded Brand, sitting up and swinging his feet out of the bedclothes.

Jak came awake with a start. He looked at Brand, and then saw the owl. “What's going on?”

Brand pointed. “It's trying to get in!” he hissed. “It's bewitched!”

Just then, there came a creaking sound from the hall. Very quietly, the brass door handle twisted and the door edged open. Jak scrambled up and fumbled beneath the bed for his crossbow, which he had stashed there when Aunt Suzenna wasn't looking. He had it out and pointed toward the door before he realized it wasn't cocked. With practiced motions, he bent the prod back and loaded a bolt into the guiding slot.

The door was open now, and an indistinct figure entered the room. It held a candle, cupped by one hand so as to dampen the light.

“Corbin?” breathed Brand.

The hand dropped from the candle, and Corbin's face was illuminated. “You're awake?”

Jak made a sound of disgust and alarm. “I nearly shot you, Corbin! Any fool knows to knock before entering!”

“Shhh!” Corbin hushed them, easing the door shut behind him. “My father will hear, or worse my mother.” He then revealed the purpose of his visit, producing a deck of stained and scarred playing cards and a jar full of polished sticks and betting beads. Tucked beneath his arm he had a loaf of bread, with a packet of cheese and a small jug of berrywine riding in his pockets. “It's your own stuff,” he said, tapping the jug proudly. “Rabing Isle makes the best berrywine still.”

Jak groaned, unloading the crossbow. “You think of nothing but your stomach.”

“And of games,” added Corbin with a chuckle. “By the way, why are you two awake and so flustered?”

Brand pointed to the window, but the owl had fled. They explained the incident and inspected the damage the bird's talons and beak had done. Corbin pursed his lips in concern. “An owl you say? Looks more like an eagle, by the look of these marks.”

“It was strange-when it looked at me, I felt that it wasn't afraid and that it wanted to find me. There was no fear at all in that creature. Perhaps it was some kind of changeling.”

It was Jak's turn to be skeptical. “For a fact, things have been odd this autumn, and the Harvest Moon is almost upon us. But I don't think that the Faerie would break their pact with the River Haven just to get at the likes of you and me. What could be their purpose?”

“Still, this all seems mighty queer to me,” said Corbin. As he spoke, he methodically set up a table in between the two beds, laying out the food, wine and game pieces. He didn't even bother to ask if the others wanted to play. There was no need.

Brand could keep quiet about what was plaguing his mind no longer. He told Corbin everything about the shadowy horseman he had seen earlier on the shore. Corbin listened intently while he divided the betting beads evenly, dealt the cards and arranged the polished sticks in the appropriate patterns. When Brand had finished, Corbin shook his head and scratched his red beard. “I know of no one like that, nor have I heard anything of such a man. But this is not to say that I doubt you, cousin,” he said hurriedly, cutting off Brand's protests.

Soon, they grew tired of discussing it and turned to the games and the food. Brand was quite tired, but nothing could keep him awake like food and games. The three played Jiggers and Swap-Cards long into the night. They kept their voices low so as not to awaken Corbin's family. Corbin won most of the hands, but Brand was just as glad to have something to keep away thoughts and dreams of the shadow man at the river and the giant bird that had torn up the windowsill to get at him.