Larkspur Mittel: The Lark & Owl Trilogy

27 - A Tribe Apart

They set off, the fen band and ponies pulling the boat up the winding river at speed.

"When there is no wind on the river, we rely on the ponies," Marcus had explained to Adelmus, who now held on to the deck railing watching in awe.

The ponies ran swiftly at the side of the river, pulling the fen band and boat behind them. A second set of fen ponies and a band had been waiting on the far side of the water, hidden by the tall, hilly grasses. They were harnessed, and ready with ropes also tied to the boat. The four ponies ran so evenly and fast on both sides of the winding river, that they looked as though they ran unfettered and alone. They towed the long boat as though it were being blown by a strong wind, and their feet barely touched the ground. Only a small cloud of dust rose on the paths behind them.

Adelmus could not get over their grace and strength. He was so absorbed that he was able to ignore the general commotion behind him on deck.

They fished Hero out the river at once, but the guillotined bird claws were still clamped tightly around her upper arms.

"What am I going to do? They hurt and are disgusting!"

"Just sit still," Marcus was saying, trying to pry them off with a drawknife and chisel.

"Ouch! Watch that knife! Why didn't they let go after you threw the slane?"

"Ogiri never let go their prey. Even after death. Their claws is said to be stronger than the strongest bog iron. Might bring us a good few shakul if we can get 'em off whole. I canno' recall the last time I seen four claws as such. Mini asebiki?" the old man surmised, switching into Dagan, the language he and Marcus spoke.

"I don't know, Pa-nush. They are good and firm. You'd have to sell the girl along with the claws," he teased, "I'm not sure I can get them off!"

Ivan laughed despite the pain from the gash in his shoulder, but Hero didn't think it was very funny.

"You have to! You're the one who did it!" She pleaded with Marcus.

"Maybe I shoulda' let them carry you away?"

"No, you oughta' have thought of a better idea to knock them down!"

Pa-nush, Marcus's grandfather, started to laugh as well. He'd just finished cleaning and wrapping Ivan's shoulder with a long strip of gauzy fabric. He now sat on the crate where the single ogiri he'd captured thrashed about every so often. He wore his wide brimmed trawler hat which stayed on his head despite the wind from the moving boat. He stood up slowly and pulled on the iron lock to the crate, to be sure it was good and secure.

"Stop yer bickering, and less' try some of the oil," he said wiping his hands and walking towards the hold.

"What oil?" Hero asked.

"It's just some fish oil that grandpa swears by."

"Fish oil?! Yer not putting any fish oil on me!" Hero stood up.

She was quite a sight standing there in her dirty, amber tunic with two giant bird claws attached to each arm, still damp wet from her douse in the river.

"Don't be droll-minded Hero! The oil might help slide the claws off of your arms," Adelmus called out, from the deck railing.

He'd been listening all the while, after checking on Aggie who was still sleeping in the hold.

"Why are the ogiri valued so much?" Ivan asked.

"They're good at battle like you saw; but traitors too as they can be re-trained by more than one master. Takes a special hand. Pa-nush says he knows who must have trained these ones for the Bolvekr. He'll try to re-train this one his-self."