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Larssa woke with a start. Too late she drew back into the straw as the light from a lantern fell across her face. Shielding her eyes with one hand, she desperately strove to hide the tattoo on the other hand by covering it with her tattered cloak as she became aware of the figure standing over her.
‘Pa don’t like strangers.’ The voice was that of a lad, no more than ten years old, Larssa guessed as she turned to face him. ‘You a traveller?’
 ‘Aye.’ Larssa answered. It was partially true. She was travelling, but not in the sense that the boy had meant. With only the clothes she wore, including the cloak that her lover had given her before he had helped her escape, Larssa knew that the child must realise she wasn’t a merchant, storyteller or musician. Her pulse raced as she tried to relax. He was only a boy, she told herself. If necessary, she could knock him out.
‘Where you going?’ the lad asked, his brown eyes more curious than threatening.
Larssa considered him carefully. He looked an honest enough boy, one who appeared mildly excited at the thought of having an adventure rather than in turning her in. She gambled. ‘Arlen. I thought it was close.’
The boy shrugged. ‘You got a horse?’
‘No. I don’t have enough coin for one. Tell me, how far is it? D’you know?’
‘My pa says it takes two sands from here.’ Shuffling his feet, the lad put down the lantern and leaned against the nearest bale of straw before continuing. ‘He used to go regular, til the Hezranites came. That’s what he says. Sold his greenleaf and apples there, when village market were unable to buy. Said he got better price there.’
‘But he doesn’t go there now?’
The boy shook his head. ‘Outside of the Empire. He says it’s not worth risking. And he can get better price by sending his crops to Keriton. That where you from?’
Larssa answered carefully. ‘I’ve been there. But it’s not my home. Tell me, when your pa went to Arlen, did he ride?’
‘He used the wagon. I went with him once, when I were still a small child.’
Smiling, Larssa nodded. He would have been about five when Kazam had been invaded. Just old enough to remember. Then she recalled the danger she was in and asked: ‘Are your ma and pa in the house?’
‘Aye. D’you want me to get them?’
‘No,’ she answered quickly. Probably too quickly. Beads of sweat formed on her brow as she struggled to rise. ‘No need. I was just leaving.’ She knew that one wrong word or move could end it all. ‘I hadn’t meant to trespass. But I’d been so tired, and what with rain an’ all…’
The boy squinted down at her as he interrupted. ‘You a criminal?’
‘No. Just a poor traveller trying to reach home.’ Larssa spoke slowly, trying to assess his reaction. There was mild relief when she saw him relax a little.
He looked down at her pregnant belly with knowing in his young eyes. ‘Is that why you going?’
Larssa smiled as she eventually managed to stand. Even though her heart raced from the effort and the tension, she felt more in control of the situation now that she could look down on her interrogator. ‘Aye.’ That at least was the truth.
As if the lad realised that there was more, he cocked his head and stared up into her eyes. After a grain or two of silent assessment, the boy said: ‘I like you. You don’t want me to tell, do you?’
‘I’d prefer you not to.’
‘Then I won’t.’ Relieved, Larssa let out her breath slowly and the child looked at her gravely. ‘There be a patrol on road ahead. Always is. You been lucky they haven’t taken to doing one of their searches – they check our buildings regular. As for the border there’s a Halt. It’s always guarded, as is the border either side. You’ll never get through unseen.’ Larssa briefly felt her body slump, her hopes of freedom dashed. So near, yet safety could have been a world away. She had hoped that the narrow road she’d been following for the last two days would have been free of patrols. As if sensing her distress the lad added: ‘But there be a way through the forest. I’ll show you.’
‘You won’t tell anyone?’
‘No. You not be the first.’ He gazed at her left hand. In her struggle to stand, Larssa had forgotten to keep it hidden. She bit her lip, knowing that the boy was staring at the blue chained tattoo that marked her as slave. ‘My friend, he were made a slave. Him, and my cousin, and my uncle. Pa swore the Oath so they let him alone. I wouldn’t have. I’d have fought ‘em.’ He had drawn himself up as he spoke, hatred glistening in his brown eyes. ‘I hate all Hezranites. Pa says I mustn’t. You want an apple?’
Larssa almost laughed. Grinning, the lad removed the lid from a nearby barrel. The sweet scent of apples filled her nostrils and she thanked the boy when he offered her two of the ripened fruit. ‘It’s what I were sent out for. You’d best hurry. Afore they come looking for me. This way.’
He gathered a few more apples into folded arms, closed the barrel and picked up the lantern. Then, checking first that the way was clear, the lad led her to the side of the barn out of sight from the house and pointed her in the direction of a narrow track that led into the forest. As the cold wind battled for control of her cloak, Larssa drew up the hood, grateful that at least the rain had stopped. Having put one of the apples safely in her pocket, she prepared to eat the other.
‘Follow it all the way,’ the boy was saying. ‘It winds a bit, but it leads down to Skulton. That’s in Arlen. Longer than road, but safe. I never seen patrols that deep in forest. Too lazy I reckons they are. Though some say it be the spirits they fear.’
Larssa lifted an eyebrow as her teeth dug into the hard fruit. As the juice flooded into her mouth she realised how hungry she was and it made her even more desperate to reach safety. In her present condition, what her body needed was food, rest and warmth. Chewing the apple, Larssa tried to concentrate on what the boy was saying.
‘Tis said there be one of ‘em Seeing Stones in forest. Those used by shadur and Shai. I never seen it, but Hezranites seem afeared of such things. Think it merely a rumour, to keep ‘em away.’ He nodded at the track. ‘Best you get going, then. You should make it by SunRising.’
A door creaked open and light spilled out from the farmhouse. ‘Good luck!’ he whispered as a voice called ‘Porlon! You dozing again, you lazy brat?’
Larssa thanked the lad as he shouted ‘Coming!’ She watched him stroll around the barn, waiting until his footsteps died away and the door banged shut. Then, with a quick glance to ensure that no one else was around, Larssa hugged her cloak tight and walked toward the track, cursing the belly that prevented her from moving any quicker. Once beneath the relative safety of the trees she whispered her thanks to the stars and Shuon. Not that she had the Faith, but it suddenly seemed the right thing to do. And if the rumours were true, that there was a Seeing Stone in the forest, it did no harm to appease the spirits as she entered their domain.

The track was not an easy one to follow, being little more than an animal track in places, narrow and used, she suspected, by hunters. A hooting of an owl startled her and she quickened her pace, plunging into the depths of the strange forest in the hope that the faster she went, the sooner she would reach the far side. With no light to guide her except that from the stars Larssa stumbled several times. Luckily the route was made easier to follow by the white bark of the whittan trees. More than once, however, she shuddered as their twisted shapes loomed out of the darkness like ghostly sentinels. To take her mind off the feeling that she was being watched or followed by the beasts of the night, Larssa tried to recall recent events. She guessed it to be the last day or so of Storm-Time, for there had been no moon. Clouds had covered the sky most nights since her escape, making her flight from Keriton even more treacherous as she had been forced to travel during the sands of light to lessen the risk of blundering into a patrol on the roads that led west. At first she had skirted the Coastal Trade Route, keeping it in sight when she could, using it as a guide. Four, or maybe five, days back, however, she had nearly blundered into a patrol in one of the outlying villages when she had gone searching for food. Scared, Larssa had decided that travelling so close to the trade route was no longer wise. After a rest to recover from the shock, she had continued travelling in what she hoped had been a south-westerly direction, until eventually coming to the narrow road. She had gambled that it led to Arlen. A country free of Hezran rule. A haven, she hoped, for escaped slaves.
Larssa let out a low wail as a wave of pain suddenly lashed at her. She tried to stagger on but was forced to stop, her hands grasping a nearby tree for support. The contraction lashed at her flesh, her breathing heavy as she closed her eyes and leant her sweating forehead on the tree, oblivious to the rough bark that dug into her flesh.
‘Not now!’ she hissed into the darkness. Her breath curled into the night air like steam from a boiling kettle. ‘Not so close! I won’t let them take it! Please, wait child, till we’re safe!’
She considered whether she should wait until SunRising before continuing but the lad had left her full of fear. If the patrols moved along the road and the border either side, might they not also know of this track? There was also her fear of the spirits. Whilst she had been a slave such things were spoken of in hushed whispers, denied by her owners, feigned as untrue. But memories of her ma speaking of the shadur in awe, as if such spirits were not only real but powerful, had left their mark. Larssa had feared them and been haunted by nightmares of ghostly creatures intent on harming her. Such thoughts made her heart pulse faster as the pain subsided. To camp here for the rest of the night wasn’t possible. Even if the shadur didn’t get her, there was always the danger that the Imperial soldiers would. She could imagine only too clearly the fate that awaited her if she were found. All slaves were frequently reminded of the beasts in the Arena, or of the Blood-Cross upon which many were crucified.
Determination not to be captured made her move on. Not just for herself but for the unborn child who seemed set on arriving too soon. Denying them both a chance at freedom. Each step deprived Larssa of more energy as she laboured to control her fears and the growing threat of the Life-Bearing. Yet she carried on, brushing back ferns, stumbling against trees, dragging herself nearer to safety. The contractions continued, however, causing her to stop time and time again as the pain became sharper, more frequent. The salty tang of blood filled her mouth as she bit back the cries that could bring soldiers to her. But eventually she could no longer hold back a scream as a contraction whipped her body ferociously and she sank onto her knees, sobbing.
When a woman stepped out of the forest, a lantern pooling light around her and the trail, Larssa looked at the stranger in despair knowing that fighting or running were impossible. As violent pains whipped her body Larssa became aware of the sweat pouring down her face and back. She felt sure she was doomed, positive that this woman would turn her over to the Hezranites. Destiny was against her. She would die. Pain wracked her body and Larssa screamed again. No point, now, in keeping back her cries. All this had been for nothing. Her babe would be enslaved, taken from her, and she would be thrown to the beasts for her traitorous actions.
‘Pant!’ The woman was by her side, shouting out names as she took firm hold of the LifeBearer’s shoulders. As if in a dream Larssa noted the woman’s hooked nose, the black hair that tumbled nearly to her waist, heard her repeat, ‘Pant.’
Larssa looked into that face, searching it for some clue as to the woman’s intent. All she found was concern. An urgency that centred on the LifeBringing. So. She would help Larssa bear the child. As fluids gushed from her, Larssa knew the time was very near. She could do nothing now. Perhaps later Larssa could plead for the child’s life. Biting her lip to stop another scream she did as she was told. No questions, no words other than those required to bring the child safe into the world passed between the two women as others joined them. A young woman and a crone, slipping silently through the forest of white trees, brought another lantern, a blanket and water. The young woman lit a fire as the crone helped Larssa into a more comfortable position, placing a blanket beneath her. As the flames cackled and warmed Larssa, the three worked as a team to help bring her babe into Being. When Larssa gave the final push that brought her infant into the world she felt exhausted but exhilarated.
‘A daughter,’ the first woman stated with some pride as the babe cried. ‘Strong, healthy. Unlike you. Our camp is nearby. We can care for you both until you are strong enough to go on.’
While she spoke, the crone severed the cord that still linked Larssa to her daughter and tied the knot. Then she washed the babe quickly, wrapped the infant in a blanket and handed the child to Larssa, a grin revealing blackened teeth.
‘She’s perfect. But she’ll need a lot of love. All infants do, y’know.’
Larssa nodded, unable to say a word as she looked down into the eyes of her daughter. So tiny. So fragile. Her child, however, cried out with a strength that made Larssa hope she was also a survivor. Weakly she hugged the babe to her breast as the crone clucked then drew back, leaving Larssa to look directly into the dark brown eyes of the woman who had first stepped out onto the trail. To face her fears. Taking a deep breath, Larssa asked ‘Who are you?’
The woman smiled. ‘They named me Alanna. We’re all Zentarans. Of the Guranni clan,’ she said, nodding at the other women.
Hope surged through Larssa. ‘Zentarans? The nomadic people?’
‘Aye. You’re welcome to join us,’ Alanna said. Then, as if understanding Larssa’s fears, the woman added ‘I promise, we’ve cared for many slaves. We can take you to Arlen. You can decide there what you wish to do.’
Larssa felt the relief almost swamp her. She had not only survived but had fallen into the hands of people who would aid her. And her daughter. ‘Thank you,’ she muttered and clutched her daughter tight.
Alanna shook her head slowly. ‘No thanks needed. Whenever we can, we help those who flee the Empire. Here, take my arm, and I’ll lead you to our camp. There you can rest and regain your strength. And I promise you, you’ll be safe from those who would kill you.’
Larssa nodded, brushing back the tears. She was weak, she knew, not just from the LifeBringing but also from lack of food and water. Once more Larssa sent a silent prayer up to Shuon as Alanna helped her walk the short distance to the camp. It was almost hidden, sheltered in a deep hollow with a stream flowing through its centre. Briefly Larssa noted the fires, the aromas of spices and meat, the rustling of movement as people stirred, woken by the rays of the rising sun penetrating the painted canvas of their wagons. Tethered horses shifted as she passed, their breath steaming in the air as birds began to welcome the new day. Larssa hugged her infant close as the woman led her up into one of the enclosed wagons. Too tired to do any more Larssa sank back onto the soft blankets that were pointed out to her, allowed Alanna to show her how to feed her daughter and wondered at the thrill as the babe sucked at her breast.
She smiled for the first time in sesters as she murmured ‘Alena. After the one who brought you into this world. Harmoniser. Drink well, my daughter.’ When Alanna took the satiated infant from her, Larssa sank gratefully into sleep.

Their arrival had not gone unnoticed. The chieftain, a deeply tanned elderly man who yet retained a muscular build and lithe limbs, had been sitting on the steps of his wagon home. He nodded in greeting as a scarlbird settled on the branch of a nearby tree.
'Empire Day. Appropriate. Auspicious,' commented the bird.
'I take it this is the one we awaited?' replied the chieftain, unperturbed that this scarlbird could speak to him telepathically.
'It is. You will take them to safety.'
'We will.'
'Then my part is done.'
With a trill, the scarlbird fluttered it wings then launched itself into the air and flew back into the forest.

© Linda Doughty