by Pamita Rao
“All right,” she said. “But I will not run. My family needs me, and I will search for my son if he is still alive and fight alongside my family.”
“How will we find them, my queen?” Kiu asked. “We do not know where they are.”
Elora wiped moisture off her cheeks. “They were meant to reach the enchanted forests, and Horace and I were to meet them there. If Alaira and Neelahaim are still alive, then they must be headed towards the enchanted forests. Hurry!” she said. “Do you know how to escape from this chamber?”
Kiu nodded and scurried towards the window, pointing outside. Elora shook her head. “I will not fit through the window. I have tried it before.”
Kiu’s forehead creased. “Are you certain? In the last few years, you have lost many pounds, as you do not have the wish to eat anymore. You must try again, my queen. Perhaps your body will fit through this window.”
“What about the height?” she asked, following Kiu to the window. “We will surely die if we jump from the window.”
Kiu smiled and flicked his head towards the window. Elora crooked her neck to see below, where he was pointing, and her eyes went wide. Below, hundreds of slaves like Kiu scrambled up the walls of the tower towards her window. The gum in their hands and legs allowed them to attach themselves to the walls with ease, and they took careful slow steps as they climbed higher. Elora’s eyes widened in recognition. These were the same Ghimshs whom Creed had brought back from Taelk to serve in his army. An older Ghimsh, whom she remembered, led them towards her. As soon as he reached her window, he peeked in and smiled.
“Remember me?”
“How could I forget you, Miyo. You are the reason many from Taelk are still alive.” During the battle of Taelk, Miyo had aided in saving many men and women. Seeing Miyo brought back those memories. The battle, the bloodshed, the cries, and the deaths still haunted her dreams.
“We must hurry, my queen,” said Kiu, breaking her thoughts. “Go through the window and climb down from them.”
Elora nodded and bent to Kiu’s height.
“I will never forget what you have all done for me,” she said. “I wish I could have done more for you.”
“You must not blame yourself for what happened in Taelk, my queen. It was not your fault.”
Elora’s eyes teared. She could have saved them all, but she had failed. She had allowed Creed to capture her and her allies. She had allowed him to turn them into slaves, and yet, here they were, saving her life. Showing their loyalty to her even after everything they had been through.
Miyo extended his hands, urging Elora to hold onto him, and she nodded, pushing herself through the window. At first, she thought she would be stuck inside, but Miyo pulled and she slid out smoothly. Kiu was right; she had become thinner than she’d been in the past few years. With all the worries that hounded her sleep, food had not agreed with her body.
Elora raised herself on the windowpane outside and balanced herself against the force of the wind. She placed one leg over Miyo’s shoulder, but when she lifted her other leg to place it on the next Ghimsh’s shoulder, a gust of wind knocked her and she lost her balance. Elora flailed her hand to catch something as she felt her body fall backwards. The Ghimshs rose on their toes, almost losing their own balance to reach out with their hands and steady her. They all touched her back, stopping her from the fall, and pushed her until Miyo could catch her arm. Miyo then gently lifted her back safely onto his shoulders, and Elora took a deep breath. Her heart still beat loudly in her chest, and she gave herself a moment to recover.
Although the Ghimshs were small, they had a lot of strength and could hold tons of bricks over their heads. Hence, they did not grumble when she made her way down the chain of Ghimshs, stepping on their heads, shoulders, arms, and holding to their bodies for support. She slipped every now and then, but the Ghimshs would pull her back. As she reached the ground, she moved back to allow the Ghimshs to climb down themselves. She looked around. They were near the east entrance of the palace, but Horace would have entered through the northern gate. She had to find him, and they would have to hurry before Creed found she was missing.
“Take me to the Griesmal.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Alaira - Groigad
“Where are we going?” Neelahaim pushed his hair back with the only hand he had free, but his hair slid back into its place.
Alaira held him to her with one hand and held the reins of her horse in the other as they galloped by the oddly shaped houses of Groigad village. An old man squinted against sunrays and watched Alaira and Freddic steer their horses deeper into the village. Groigad was the poorest village in the kingdom and home to many slaves who worked for Tireol palace and many aristocrats. Houses in Groigad were made of ‘Loghe’, a type of sand only available in Groigad, and so were most of the things inside the house: pots, pans, even beds.
Every time it rained in Groigad, the roofs had to be rebuilt, as they slipped, and during cold times, the roofs hardened until they chipped away. These houses were rebuilt so many times that they never looked the same between seasons and often ended up with an odd structure. Even then, the people of Groigad continued to use Loghe, as it was the cheapest material on Myrth.
Slaves toiled hard at work and often came back to a crumbling home. If the damage was not too much, then it took just a few days to rebuild, but if the entire house collapsed, then it took months. The slaves had no outside help and had to do this along with their daily work.
Alaira watched the children of Groigad play on the streets as she and Freddic galloped into the village. The children wore clothes that were prepared by sewing pieces of clothes they found on streets. Women in various Loghe houses watched their children play as they prepared food on the Loghe stoves. Children on the streets gave way for the horses to pass without looking up even once. They were used to soldiers travelling on their horses and barging into their homes, and hence thought nothing when Alaira and Freddic stopped their horses in front of a home. Freddic left Alaira’s side in search of food and shelter.
Upon Alaira’s request, Thiran and his wife had lent them some clothes, and they were now dressed like the aristocrats, even Neelahaim. They rode throughout the day with only a few stops to reach Groigad, but now Neelahaim was getting hungry and they would have to stop soon for the night.
“Who are they?” Neelahaim had never been exposed to this part of the village. The workers in Nimah were treated well by Inglan. Even though they travelled every day from Groigad, they were paid well for their services, and that is what Neelahaim knew, that is what he had seen.
“They are slaves who work for the king.”
“Where do they come from?”
“They are brought as spoils of war from neighboring kingdoms. Some of them were been nobles from well to do families, but their refusal to cooperate with the king led them to this state.”
There were rumors that these slaves went many days without food, begging in the streets. Some were caught by the guards and were whipped in front of others. The guards and aristocrats enjoyed the punishments. It formed a part of their weekly entertainment.
The slaves were given salaries for the work they performed, but it could be anything from one month’s worth of food to just a day’s supply. It all depended on the family that owned them. They worked long hours, were paid very little.
These families learnt to build their own houses, stitch their own clothes. They were kept in a dry land, so that they could not grow their own crops, and anyone who dared to help them was reduced to a similar state. It was a miracle that her family had not been forced to slavery. She respected Inglan for giving her family that freedom, and it was the reason they could bring up Neelahaim without many eyes on them.
Alaira looked at her green gown adorned with laces and stones. The fabric felt like soft feathers under her fingers, and it swayed when she walked. It was the only beautiful dress Alaira had ever worn and would probably be the last one she would ever posse
ss.
“I want to go home, to grandfather,” wailed Neelahaim. He was getting very talkative now that he had entered his third year, and Alaira did not have the leisure to explain everything to him.
The sound of a man speaking made her stop. Alaira pulled Neelahaim to her side, moved them behind the crumbling wall of a house, and put a finger on her lips to silence him. She peeked from behind the house in the direction of the voices as they became louder.
“Have you seen a woman and a man travelling with a boy?” asked a soldier to an old man. “They have been accused of stealing our king’s son and hiding him for three years.”
At the same moment, Neelahaim cried. “I want to go home, Khala!”
Alaira immediately clamped his mouth and held him to her chest. A few women who had come out of their homes to hang clothes on strings turned towards Alaira. She held her breath as she locked her eyes with these women.
“No, sire. We have not seen anyone,” said the old man to the soldier.
The women continued to stare towards Alaira, but after a few moments, they picked up their baskets of clothes and headed back home.
Alaira released her held breath and tried to find Freddic, but he was nowhere in sight. Where is he? she thought to herself. She peeked into a few houses, and they all seemed occupied. She panicked at the sound of someone approaching her. If she moved, they would catch her, and if she stayed, one of those women could give her up.
She peeked into the broken window of the closest house. The thick layer of dust on its floor was an indication that it had not been used in a while. She picked up Neelahaim. “Can you crawl in?”
He nodded.
She pulled the window open and pushed him up by his legs; he crawled inside the house just before Alaira heard a voice.
“There she is!” Alaira spun to find four pairs of eyes staring at her. These soldiers looked different from the ones who had searched her village; they had a different uniform, brownish gray, and they did not have the badges that soldiers usually received when in war. These soldiers only guard Groigad village, she thought. They would be easier to manage, as they had never seen her before.
“Soldiers! It is a bright day for a morning stroll, is it not?”
“Who are you?”
“I am an aristocrat, of course. My name is Ariaba.”
“Really? Then why have we never seen you before?”
“Of course you haven’t seen me. I just turned eighteen. My father would never allow me to wander alone in these dirty villages,” she said with a flick of her hand.
“A few villagers said they saw a boy with you.” The man’s eyes wandered around her. She moved to the side and extended her hand.
“See, there is no one here. These poor people have lost their minds. I was only conversing with a boy of the neighborhood.”
“What business does a young aristocrat have in such a village?”
Alaira frowned. “I am here to get my eighteenth gift of course—a slave of my own. I am here to choose one who will serve me until I am to be married.”
One of the soldiers bent his head to her and whispered, “But aristocrats do not chose their slaves on their own. It is our job to take the slaves to them.”
Alaira froze. She had not known of the arrangement the aristocrats had with the soldiers who guarded Groigad. She should have been more careful. She raised her eyes to meet his and set her lips in a tight line. “Do you want to get yourself killed? My father is of the highest rank among the aristocrats. He will have you arrested for speaking to me that way. My father has deep-rooted connections to the king. You will treat me with the respect I deserve.”
“Then you won’t mind telling us which house your slave is in. I would like to confirm if it’s true,” said the soldier.
As Alaira thought of an answer, another soldier came from behind and tapped on his shoulder. “We have to leave; we might miss the woman and her child. We should keep searching. Besides, look at her. She is dressed in the finest of clothes. She reeks of class. This woman was supposed to have travelled from Nimah, which is in the south. Surely her dress would be dusty and her clothes ragged after such a long trip to the north. Maybe she says the truth.”
The first soldier was not convinced. “She could have changed and hidden our prince in one of these houses.”
“How could she wear an aristocrat’s clothes if she were not one?”
“Walahal mentioned that the people of Nimah are tricksters. Until I know that she is not lying, I will keep questioning her.” He then turned towards Alaira. “If you are indeed an aristocrat, then you must own a horse.”
Alaira pointed towards the horse Thiran had lent her. Freddic had tied their horses to a pole before he had left them to find shelter. “That is my horse,” she said.
“You see,” said the second soldier. “She is an aristocrat just as she says! If her father were to arrest us, we could end up like the prisoners in the Griesmal. We need to find the prince before nightfall, or we will lose our heads. Stop harassing this poor woman and get back to your task!”
Alaira felt goosebumps crawl up her skin as she waited for the soldiers to stop staring at her. Neelahaim was inside the house. If he called out to her or made any noise, she would have nowhere to escape. She wished Freddic would stay wherever he was and not come near them, or the soldiers would know her story was a lie.
“All right then, but I will send word back to the castle about you. If I hear that you are not who you say you are, then you will face more pain than you can imagine.” As the men padded away from her, Alaira peeked into the house. She turned to see if the child was hiding anywhere, but he was not in sight. Among the layers of dust, she observed footsteps that led to the main door. She ran towards the front of the house in panic. She could not find him. Heat rose in her chest. Where did he go? She ran into the street.
“Neelahaim!” she shouted, not caring if the king’s servants found out.
After a while of searching in various streets in panic, a small voice called her name. “Khala!” A tiny hand waved from a distance. Alaira’s walk turned into a run. As she neared him, she noticed three other boys his age bouncing stones on the road. They were playing!
Alaira released her held breath and hugged him. “You scared me,” she said, lifting him up. He scrambled to his feet, but Alaira did not release him. “We can’t stay here. We must leave.”
“I want to play, Khala!” The boys gazed at Neelahaim expectantly.
Her eyes turned to him in earnest. “We cannot stay here. There are some bad people behind us. We have to run.”
His forehead creased. “Why are bad people behind us?”
“They want to capture both of us and throw us in prison. Do you want that to happen?” He shook his head. Alaira knew she had his attention and pulled him away from the boys. The soldiers were still coursing the area, asking questions about Neelahaim, and she had to find a place for them to hide.
Suddenly, a hand grabbed her from behind and covered her mouth to stop her from screaming.
“Shh, it’s me,” whispered Freddic. He pulled her towards a house and led her inside just as a soldier galloped into the street. He closed the door and dragged furniture from around the house, placing it in front of the door. Once he was satisfied with his work, he turned to introduce her to the family, who stared at them.
Alaira was stunned to see the same old man who had lied for her. A young boy stood by his side and eyed Neelahaim’s clothes. He looked like the grandson of the old man.
“This is my wife, Alaira, and my son, Neelahaim,” said Freddic, handing a pouch full of coins to the old man. “We will not have a need for it where we go.”
The old man accepted the pouch and nodded. “You are welcome to stay until the guards leave, but you have to leave before they return. If the soldiers find any of you in our house, they will kill us all. We do not want the same destruction that happened in Nimah to happen to us.”
Neelahaim eyed a toy in the
young boy’s hands. “You may play with him,” said Alaira. Neelahaim immediately followed the boy and sat down beside him. The boy gave Neelahaim a Loghe horse and showed him how to gallop it forward on a makeshift street. “Where is his mother?” she asked.
“She is dead. My grandson is all I have.”
“I apologize,” said Alaira. “A child must always have their mother.”
The old man nodded as he made his way to a Loghe bed. “Creed killed my daughter, when she tried to protect the queen. Had she done her duties and come back home, she would still be alive.” He laid down on his bed and closed his eyes. “Do not let them steal anything,” he said to his grandson.
Alaira stood while Freddic sat on the ground. The ceiling touched her head, and the entire house could be covered in a few steps. The old man slept in one corner of the house, and the child very close to his bed. The only space they had was near the door. Alaira sat next to Freddic and placed her head on his shoulders.
“What next?” he asked.
“Now we pray that Horace, Elora, and your father are headed to the enchanted forest, just as we will tomorrow.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The Enchanted Forests
“Wake up! Wake up.”
Alaira opened her eyes to find an old man staring at her nervously. For a moment, she did not recognize that man. Who is he? What is he doing in her house? Then, she remembered: the ride to Groigad, a soldier finding her, resting in someone’s home. She immediately searched for Neelahaim and found him asleep in Freddic’s arms.
“You must leave,” said the old man. “The soldiers will return any moment to check our houses.”
