Convention Countdown (+Chapter Two)

Just for fun, here’s chapter two of The Night Archers. If you haven’t read chapter one yet, catch it here.

Chapter Two: Problems

Soft light filtered through the blankets that covered the sides of the dining table. Gavynn sat up, careful not to hit his head on the low ceiling of the blanket house and listened to the silence. The storm was over.

Rosie slept on one side of him, squeezing her doll under one arm, and Maire held tightly to his hand with her own chubby one. He smiled down at them and gently untangled himself from them. Standing up from under the table, he was struck by the contrast of the neighbor children sitting with their mother. They had fresh memories to spoil their dreams, and the thought filled him with a compassion that led him to prayer. 

They stirred from sleep when he unbarred the door and let in a rectangle of brilliant, afternoon light. His stepmother followed him to the door, holding the baby close in her arms, and let out a gasp when she saw the street before them.

Water ran across the cobblestones in streams, carrying mud and debris with it. Clusters of townsfolk surveyed the damage and spoke in hushed whispers. A thick smell of rain and mud filled the air, and Gavynn wondered what condition the rest of the town was in. He stepped out into the street and looked up at the thatched roof of their cottage.

Here and there, material had been torn away and would need to be repaired before the next storm. Their barn had completely escaped damage, and he breathed a prayer of thanks when he thought of the dwindling provisions stored there.

The door of the cottage closed with a thud, and Anwen came toward him with a rag and the last of yesterday’s water. “You’d best wash off that mud before neighbors look at you any more curiously.”

He took the items with a laugh and set to work scrubbing his hands obediently.

Anwen looked up at the thatch, then glanced up the street toward the ruined cottage. “We fared better than some.”

“Yes.”

“We can’t send them away.”

Gavynn looked over at her. “I’m glad you think so.”

“But we can’t keep them either.” A crease formed between her brows, and she sighed heavily. “As it is, we have barely enough for the five of us, and the rainy season seems to be coming early.”

Gavynn dried his face on his sleeve and nodded in agreement, but his eyes fell on the stained rag in his hands and he remembered the neighbor boy’s desperation. “We’ll help them as long as we can.”

Anwen nodded, and they both turned to look as the cottage door opened. Caelan stood in the doorway, his light hair still littered with wet thatch but face clean enough to show the sunburn splashed across his nose. He eyed them both with an expression Gavynn couldn’t quite read.

Gavynn gestured toward the open town gates. “I’m going to check the fields. You coming?”

Surprise flitted across the lanky boy’s face, and his shoulders relaxed. “All right. And thank you for taking us in last night, ma’am,” he spoke to Anwen as he fell into step with Gavynn.

She only smiled and entered the cottage.

A dreadful hush had fallen over the town, heavier than the clouds that were finally beginning to disperse. Even the lowest of tones seemed harsh and loud. Townsfolk passed in and out of the church to whisper prayers and speak with the priest. Gavynn could feel their eyes on him as he passed them. Even the troubles of the past few hours couldn’t keep their gazes from following his tall frame across the square to the open gates.

He hurried his steps, and Caelan did the same, turning to look back at the group and shake his head. One step outside the walls of the town and Gavynn could see at a glance that their rich crop was mostly nothing more than waterlogged straw. A few unbroken stalks of salvageable grain stood like lonely soldiers, but the rest was dark with water and trampled to the ground by the stampede of hail. 

Gavynn took a few steps forward and ran his fingers along a broken stalk. “We’ll have to let it dry out again before we can cut it and see what, if anything, can be used.”

Caelan nodded solemnly, then mumbled to himself. “And I’ll need to speak with Father Gregory about a place to stay.”

“My family and I aren’t sending yours away anytime soon,” Gavynn cut him off and looked the astonished boy full in the face. “We have space enough. Provide your own food, help where you’re needed, and we’ll try to make this work.” He offered his hand, and they shook on it.

They retraced their steps, and Gavynn looked again at the women and children working to put their town and their lives back together. A question filled his dark eyes. It was already too late to replant. How would there be enough food for everyone, especially when the soldiers returned home?

Each step turned into a thought and each thought into a prayer. Shame added itself to his burden as his mind slid into his secret wish to escape all the problems that plagued him.

They reached the cottage, and Caelan paused to look at the roofless cottage mere paces away. He looked over at Gavynn, then glanced away and pulled at his light hair. “I lost my head in there. When you came to pull me out. I’m sorry I called you a coward.”

Gavynn nodded. “It’s all right.” Then added to himself. “We all lose our heads sometimes.”

Copyright 2019 Kate Willis