The Chellion Days

by A.S. Morrison

The roof will probably fall on your head or you might get slaughtered by a Welglander. There’s no sense in paying for that.”

  Kenton put his purse back and thanked her yet again.

  “Stop thanking me!” She got up from her chair with some difficulty. “There’s probably a hundred kinds of poisonous bugs up there.” She leaned in close. “But if you do die in here believe me that I’ll help myself to that money. That’ll be the deal.”

  Kenton laughed again, though this time a little uneasily.

  2.

  The room was tiny with only one bed; not that it could much be called a bed. It had a frame—made of moldy wood. It had a mattress—filled with wet sand. And it had a pillow—filled with something Ackerley had no intention of touching. So it could by definition be called a bed. Kenton dragged a smelly mat in to sleep on and gave Ackerley the privilege of the bed.

  Kenton sat on the mat, which squished under his weight. “We’ll leave early. We’ll get to the castle by evening that way. Don’t worry about this town. It’s got some of the worst people imaginable, but they’re our people.”

  Somehow that made Ackerley feel better. “I guess the Welgo’s won’t attack then.”

  “Sure won’t.”

  Madame Orly brought up stew for them. It had pieces of meat, and was the first meat that Akerley had in a long time. He savored every little bit and was sad when it was gone.

  Kenton took the bowls and set them outside the door. He curled up on his mat and went to sleep.

  Ackerley sat around the rest of the day staring out the torn curtains onto the street below. When it got dark few lanterns lit the street. Several people walked here and there. He wondered what they were doing. He sighed and felt the uneasiness of going to the castle. It scared him a little, the uncertainty of it all. He tiptoed from the room and carefully walked down the hall. It felt better to move. He’d wandered all over his little town whenever he got that feeling. It worked at home, but didn’t quite have the same effect in that hallway. He’d always known that the future was out there, but never what it was. Now he knew what was going to happen. He was going to a noble’s castle to wait out the end of the war, if it ever came. And then . . . and then what? He shivered and walked back to the room.

  Halfway down the hall a voice called to him. He turned. Madame Orly lay on a bed in one of the rooms. A candle flickered nearby, illuminating only a small portion of her face.

  “Come in.” She said quietly.

  Ackerley went to the doorway, unsure what to do next.

  “Come on now. I want to tell you something.”

  He slowly went into the room and sat on the edge of the bed.

  She looked deep into his eyes. “I can tell you’re scared. I know that feeling anywhere.”

  Ackerley looked away.

  “Don’t be afraid of the future. It’s the only thing we have a say in.”

  He shifted uncomfortably.

  Madame Orly patted his back. “This war is fought for you. The king may be fighting for himself, but the warriors are fighting for you. It doesn’t matter who’s in charge of this kingdom as long as they can give children like you the most they can. Do you know it? Do you understand that?”

  “I just want to go home.” He said, staring at the doorway.

  She nodded in understanding. “I know you do. But I must tell you something else. Something that is even more important. There is no home.”

  Ackerley looked into her sad old eyes and found himself looking back.

  “That little town you lived in is gone now. The castle you are going to is only temporary. Every place you live in your life is only there for a time. People say they have a home because it makes them feel better about their situation. I want you to be free of all that. Be free of what the people around you want for themselves. Find a way to want differently. Find a way to believe differently.”

  Ackerley didn’t understand what she meant. He nodded anyway so as not to seem rude.

  “Oh my, I’ve gone and sounded crazy again, haven’t I?”

  “No, I just . . .”

  Madame Orly looked disappointed. “Go to bed, kid, you’re going to need it.”

  He got up from the bed and quickly walked back to his room.

  Ackerley jolted awake. Light poured in through the windows. At first he thought it was morning, but that wasn’t daylight. Kenton grabbed him and stood him up.

  “Come on, we have to move.” Kenton said, a quiver to his voice.

  Sounds of smashing and yelling shook the boy to full consciousness. Something was happening, something bad. The light he had seen was red and glowed hot through the curtains.

  Kenton grabbed up what he had brought in with him and pulled Ackerley out of the room and through the hall. They stumbled down the stairs. Madame Orly stood near the doorway. The building across the street burned bright in the night.

  Kenton stuck his head outside and pulled it back. He pushed Ackerley against the wall.

  “I’m going to get Sidestep ready.”

  “What?” Ackerley asked, his eyes wide with fright.

  “The horse.”

  He sprinted from the shack. People ran and yelled all over the place. Horses galloped through the streets. Ackerley couldn’t tell who was good and who was bad.

  “It’s alright, kid, it’s going to be fine for you. Your brother knows what he’s doing.” Madame Orly breathed heavily, gripping the doorframe for support.

  Kenton ran back in and grabbed Ackerley. Without the slightest glance toward Madame Orly they went out into the street. Sidestep stood completely still despite the mess all around. Kenton threw his brother on the horse and climbed on himself.

  The building across the street groaned and collapsed. Embers erupted from within. Ackerley covered his face as the embers seared his arms. The horse took off. The boy frantically wiped his arms and looked wildly around.

  He saw the chaos in clips and images. He saw a large man on a horse cut down someone running. He saw bodies in the street and buildings crumbling under the heat of large flames. And then he saw Madame Orly in the doorway of her inn looking after them. Several figures with swords shining in the glow ran into the inn . . . and Madame Orly vanished from view.

  Ackerley grabbed onto his brother and buried his burning eyes in his back. Sidestep raced out of town and the sounds died down. The cool night air replaced the suffocating smoke and heat. For a few seconds the world tried to return to normal.

  A loud shout tore through the recovering normalcy. Ackerley looked back to see one of the men with a sword catching up fast on a horse. He wore dark clothes that might have included fur, but the boy couldn’t tell in such a terrifying moment. Kenton pulled the reigns to the left and Sidestep understood. The horse kicked the ground hard and jerked to the left. The man with the sword cut to the left and followed. He came up fast and swiped his sword inches away from cutting into Sidestep. Kenton silently pulled the reigns to the left again and the horse ran in a half circle, galloping back toward the town. Kenton pulled the reigns harder and Sidestep completed the circle. The man with the sword did the same. No matter what maneuver Kenton tried they couldn’t shake him.

  Kenton undid several bags from the saddle. Sidestep went a little faster. Another shout came, this one from right behind them and coming fast. The sword once again swiped at Sidestep, this time connecting with his tail. Kenton pulled the stick from the saddle that was supposed to hold the lantern. He removed his hands completely from the reigns. With one hand he pushed Ackerley’s head down and with the other he swung the stick and made contact with the man’s head. He shook it off and came closer. Ackerley could hear the other horse breathing. He peeked over to see it level with him. The man screamed again and Ackerley saw the sword glint as it came his way. The stick caught it inches from his face. The man pulled it out and swung again. Kenton was there with the stick to blo
ck it.

  Both combatants had now dropped the reigns. Both horses swerved slightly so as to get their rider better shots. Ackerley watched in terror. He gripped his brother’s waist as hard as he could. After the fourth sword swipe cut through the stick and splinters rained down on Ackerley, the vicious man pointed the sword’s tip at the boy. Before he could strike Kenton hurled the stick at the other horse’s head. It connected with a whack and the horse fell off course. Kenton quickly took the lantern and flung it at the horse. It shattered across its face and broken glass cut into its skin. The horse stumbled and fell to the ground, its rider flying off.

  Sidestep galloped on as if nothing happened. Kenton took up the reigns and pressed forward. Ackerley buried his face into his brother’s back again and quietly cried. His mind played the sword heading his way over and over again. Each time it looked as if the sword got closer and closer.

  They continued on in the darkness. Before too long the first hints of morning lit the sky. Sidestep came to a stop near a stream. Kenton got off and gingerly lifted his brother from the horse and onto the grassy bank. He took a couple metal cups from the last bag attached to the saddle and filled them with water. He handed a cup to Ackerley, who took it with shaking hands. He hadn’t stopped shaking since the first shout rang out in the night.

  They sat quietly on the bank of the stream for a while, listening to the calming water.

  “I’m sorry.” Kenton whispered