How the Axe Falls

Chapter 4

'Ahhh Talon, I've just prepared us some sou- flay me, lad! Yer' soaked through!'

Uncle Jack dropped the steaming bowls onto the table and ushered Talon towards the cauldron.

'What were ye' thinking staying out in that for so long?' Jack said scoldingly, draping a couple of blankets around the boy's shoulders. 'I'm not about to lose ye' to the damn flu, lad!'

Talon merely shrugged. As long as his plan worked, the flu could take him afterwards for all he cared.

'What's that ye' got there, lad?' Uncle Jack fingered the sodden shawl in Talon's fist.

'Mother's,' Talon told his Uncle sharply.

'Ah, well - right...' Jack cleared his throat awkwardly. Struggling to meet his nephew's hard eyes, Jack slapped his knees as he rose and began busying himself with the cauldron.

Talon did not mean to be harsh with his Uncle but right now he could not afford to give in to the man's questioning. Jack surely meant well but nothing could give Talon pause from his plan. Nothing would get in his way, nothing would stop him from sinking his blade into the Viscount's heart.

Talon reached down when Uncle Jack turned his back and adjusted the skinning knife hidden in his right boot. It was a crude weapon but one that would serve his purpose well enough. Talon only wished he hadn't been forced to steal it from his Uncle.

'Here, lad, eat up,' Jack handed Talon one of the piping hot bowls.

A few small chunks of fish meat swam amongst the beans and onions of the stew. 'It'll put the hair on yer' chest, my son,' his father had often claimed proudly. His mother had always been quick to point out, however, how bare his father's chest actually was, much to his chagrin.

No. He crushed the memory with visions of his parents' severed heads. I need to focus.

The first spoonful of stew seared the roof of Talon's mouth but he continued wolfing the stuff down long past the point his lips had gone numb.

Uncle Jack, on the other hand, hadn't taken a single sip. He kept twirling the spoon round the bowl clockwise then anti-clockwise in an almost hypnotic fashion.

'There's something I ought to show ye',' Jack said the moment Talon placed his bowl on the floor beside him. The way he stared down into the stew, Talon thought that his Uncle seemed a little reluctant to do what he 'ought.'

Placing the bowl back on the table, Jack kneeled beside one of the beds and dug his hand into the straw. After a moment of rifling around he drew out a folded bunch of black fabric.

'Yer' mother left this with me after yer' father... ye' know...' Jack looked down at his shuffling feet. 'She wanted ye' to have this.'

Talon's eyes widened when the bundle unfurled with a sharp whip of Jack's hands.

He had never seen anything of its like before. It appeared to be some sort of cloak, although the actual 'cloak' itself looked like it would only cover half his back, with the material shortening up as it curved to where his right arm would be. A hood was stitched to the back of the mantle.

'What is it?' Talon ran a finger down the half-cape. It felt awfully smooth, like silk.

'Try it on, lad, if ye' want,' Jack held it out for him.

The half-cloak fitted on Talon like a sort of strange poncho. Despite how light the material felt, it was strangely warm, as if the half-cloak was formed of heavy layers of wool rather than the silk like fabric that sifted through his fingertips. It had been designed for someone taller, that much was clear. The cloak itself trailed past his boots like a king's cape. The material shortened as it wrapped around his arm, falling past his knee, though Talon had the impression it had been cut to just cover the hand from view. He thought of the knife rubbing against his ankle and smiled.

'Hmph, well don't ye' look the vision of a little lord,' Jack chuckled lightly.

Talon looked down at himself. He supposed he did. The half-cloak was certainly finer than what the other boys wore and, dare he say it, fancier than all the women's summer dresses put together.

He paused mid-twirl and clenched his fists at his sides. Idiot, he thought to himself angrily. Spinning yourself about like some fool girl with her new dress, what would your Mam think?

'Everything alright, lad? I could put it away if ye'd rather not see it?' Jack looked on worriedly, running his hands through his bushy beard as if he suddenly regretted showing Talon the half-cloak.

Talon backed away and shook his head firmly. The cloak had been meant for him, so he would keep it. He just had to remember that he had a plan to enact.

Uncle Jack sighed as Talon regained the stone-set poise of his mouth. There was something strange loitering in his Uncle's eyes - a sort of sad look and... fear? Whatever it was, Jack couldn't muster the courage to say and Talon was in no mood to ask.

When the cauldron fire dimmed to a few crackling embers, Talon lay on his straw bed, still garbed in the half-cloak.

'Thank ye', Mam,' he whispered to himself, imagining the cloak as if it were his mother's warm arms wrapping round his chest.

The knife in Talon's boot seemed to rattle as he stared down at the crack under the house door, impatiently waiting for dawn to shepherd away dusk.