Rembrien Chapter 4.

Chapter 4.

The Eagle.

The next town on Sophrayni’s map was Burnton. The road narrowed between hedgerows thick with berries, the scent of damp earth rising with each hoof step. Shade picked his way carefully, his ears flicking at distant cries.

As the town came into view, a scatter of slate roofs and crooked chimneys nestled in a shallow bowl of hills, the air grew tense. No children played in the lanes. No smoke curled from the chimneys.

Sophrayni pulled on the reins and stopped. “This isn’t right,” she said to Shade. “The town should be busy at this time of day.”

Then came the scream.

A shadow tore across the sky, vast, winged, and furious. An eagle, larger than any Sophrayni had ever seen, wheeled above the rooftops with a cry like nothing she had ever known. Its talons clipped the roof of a tall building, sending slates crashing to the cobbles below.

Shade reared. Sophrayni calmed him with a word, her eyes already scanning the rooftops. Now she saw the truth: the streets weren’t empty.

People crouched in doorways and under carts. A woman clutched a child to her chest, eyes wide with fear. A man hurled a stone, but it fell short. The eagle shrieked again and swooped low.

Sophrayni dismounted slowly. As the eagle passed overhead, she raised her hand. Carefully, she drew the bird down to her. It landed at her feet. Its fierce eyes glared up at her, but held by the spell, it stayed still. Gently, Sophrayni placed her hand on the bird’s head. She listened.

This wasn’t a random attack. The eagle was angry, hurt, and grieving. She released the spell. The eagle flew to a nearby rooftop and watched her, feathers ruffled, its gaze sharp.

Sophrayni let go of the reins. “Don’t go far,” she murmured to Shade.

She stepped into the middle of the street and turned slowly, taking in the frightened faces. She tapped her foot in annoyance. Eventually, a well-dressed man stepped from the largest house and approached her. He bowed low.

“Welcome to Burnton,” he said. “I must apologise for the unfortunate incident with the mad eagle. I take it you are Sophrayni, the Witch of the Dark Forest? I had word from King Syldan that you might visit. We are honoured.”

“Your eagle isn’t mad, it’s mourning,” Sophrayni replied. “Someone stole its eggs. Return them, and the attacks will stop.”

“Please,” begged the man. “I am Lord Dylan. Come inside, where we can speak safely.”

Sophrayni shook her head. “We stay here until the eggs are returned. Otherwise, it won’t just be an angry bird you’ll have to deal with.” To make her point, she pointed at the ground near Lord Dylan’s feet and made the dust explode upward.

He leapt back with a squeal. “Please,” he begged again. “I’ll have everyone in the village paraded before you. Surely, you’ll see who did this.”

Sophrayni folded her arms. “I don’t need a parade. I need honesty. Someone here knows what was taken and where it’s hidden. The longer you delay, the more danger you are in. If no one confesses, I’ll ask the eagle to choose, and I won’t be as gentle as she is.”

A woman crept out from under a cart and whispered in Lord Dylan’s ear. He nodded and turned back to Sophrayni. “It was a man named Milo. Give me a few minutes and I’ll have him brought here.”

While Lord Dylan rushed off, Sophrayni remained in the square. She tapped her foot once, just once, and the ground gave a low, warning shudder. Dust rose in lazy spirals. She turned slowly, letting her gaze sweep across the watching faces. Fear was a language, and she spoke it fluently when needed.

Lord Dylan returned with two burly men dragging a third between them. “This is Milo,” he said.

“The eggs?” Sophrayni demanded.

Milo whimpered. “I was going to raise the chicks to sell as hunting birds. I didn’t mean any harm.”

Before Milo could move, a woman arrived carrying a small basket lined with straw. “These are the eggs,” she said. “My foolish husband left them in my kitchen. I’ve kept them warm.”

“Good,” Sophrayni said. “You’ll go to the old watchtower now, Milo. And you’ll carry them yourself. Gently.” She turned to the villagers. “He’ll be the eagle’s guardian now. For life. You’ll build a path to the tower and a place for visitors to watch from afar. This creature is a gift. Burnton will thrive if you treat the eagle with respect.”

Milo took the basket and walked to the tower, the eagle flying just above him. Moments later, Milo came tumbling back out, blood pouring down his face. “She clawed me!” he protested.

“Serves you right,” said his wife.

“Now,” said Sophrayni, “I’ve had enough for one day. Shade and I are going to the inn.”

At the inn, Sophrayni asked for a hot bath and a meal. The maid, already in the room stirring the lavender-scented water, startled at her entrance.

“That smells like lavender,” Sophrayni said gently. “Good choice.”

“My aunt says it helps with nerves,” the girl replied. “She’s the town’s charmer. She’s teaching me.”

“Good,” said Sophrayni. “Being a witch like me isn’t always easy.” She sighed, looking at her uniform. “I’m starting to understand why Calizone hated these clothes. It would be nice to wear something pretty for once.”

The maid shyly began to brush Sophrayni’s hair. “You have beautiful hair. It seems a shame to hide it under the hat.”

“One day, when the world knows who I am, I won’t need to hide it. Now, when you’re done, I’d be grateful if you’d ask your aunt to visit me in the morning.”

Early the next morning, Sophrayni sat with Mavis Greeny, the charmer. Sophrayni asked about places where the land felt "off" or where magic didn't work. Mavis didn't know of any nearby but promised to have her son, a carter, ask the local charmers in other towns.

“It would help a great deal,” Sophrayni said. “Thank you.”

Before she left, Sophrayni stepped into the inn’s cellar and laid her palm on the largest beer barrel. She whispered a charm, simple, old, and strong. The sweetness would hold. Let them wonder why the ale stayed good longer than it should.

In the old watchtower, the eagle stirred. Shade stamped once, sensing movement. Sophrayni looked to the horizon. There was another town on her map. Another charmer. Another thread in the pattern. And the wind, as she mounted, carried the faint scent of lavender and rain.