jumped off. He led the horse into the village, looking around for someone who might help.
Children played by the water while adults chatted merrily nearby. Kenton greeted them kindly and asked them for a doctor. They took one look at Ackerley, who had fallen across the saddle and was hugging Sidestep, unable to get back up. The adults jumped out of the plain wooden chairs they were sitting in and led the way to one of the smallest round houses in the village. It stood right on the edge of the forest. An old man with a long salt and pepper beard bustled out. Despite his advanced age he had a youthful strength and demeanor. He easily lifted Ackerley from the back of the horse and carried him into the small house.
Kenton followed them inside. Several simple beds filled the house. Ackerley was placed upon one. Two youth’s, a boy and a girl only a little older than Ackerley ran around the small dwelling. They pulled things out of glass jars and took bandages out of drawers. The girl helped Ackerley choke down a medicinal bulb. The boy took Kenton gently by the hand and led him back outside, promising that they would get him when Ackerley was ready for visitors.
The former commander walked in a daze through the village. Sidestep had been taken to a trough where he took a long drink. Several little kids threw buckets of water on him, beginning to wash the days of wear away.
A middle aged woman wearing a plain tan dress with her hair in a ponytail came over to him, a friendly smile on her face.
“I’m sure you have quite a story to tell.” She said to Kenton. “Won’t you come in to the longhouse and tell us about it?”
The woman introduced herself as Murraya, the leader of the small village of New Chell. Kenton accepted her offer and together they went into the comfortable longhouse and sat at a finely carved table.
Kenton, full of relief and happiness about his brother finally being cared for, told everything there was to tell. He started at the beginning, when he joined the army and left his family. He told about the war, the manor region, and Chellion castle. He finished with the castle being overrun, the king being killed (leaving out who did it), and their final escape.
Halfway through he found his eyes welling up, tears streaming down his face, and his body shaking uncontrollably. All the emotion that he had somehow kept bottled within him came rushing out with the story. He thought about his brother, about all the poor people who had died, and about his brother’s friend, the princess who gave her life for theirs. When he finished, his head dropped to the table, his hands pounding the smooth wood as he cursed the invaders and every sorrow they brought.
Murraya rubbed his back tenderly. “You’re safe now. You’re home.”
27.
It took a full two weeks before Ackerley was able to leave the hospital house. The Morzha’s had been welcomed with open arms. The villagers helped Kenton build his own little round house. It was finished by the time that Ackerley was deemed healed. After the first few days everyone had had enough of the stories. They had told Kenton about how they each escaped. Some of them left right after news broke that the Welgos had entered Chell, a full three years ago. The villagers treated them as if they had lived there always.
Ackerley spent most nights sitting on the beach, watching and listening to the waves until it was far to dark to see. He thought about Cerise a lot; about all the things they could have been doing together. He wondered if she’d like the village, if she would have stayed with them or tried making her way in the world alone.
He missed the castle. He missed the structure of the day and the nice room with the nice bed. The further he got from living there the more he forgot about how much anxiety he felt. All his mind could hang on to was the food, the times hanging out with Jarn, and the walks alone with Cerise.
Kenton didn’t seem to know how to sit still. He was often away. Sometimes he would go back to the capital and try to get an audience with the leader. Other times he would journey into Chell and see how things were doing. He would always bring back news. When they had lived there for a whole year Kenton went on one of these trips, coming back with news of how different Chell was now. Chellion Castle had been renamed South Welgland Castle, and was the center of governance. Victor had survived and become the king. Welgo towns had sprung up everywhere. There was little talk of what became of the Chells who survived. Some said they joined with the Welgos and tried to hide their roots. Others said they all were massacred by Victor. None ever showed up in the little village. Kenton was only ever allowed back into Vloraisha because he bought the traditional bright clothing and pretended to be from there. He tried on various occasions to bring some Chells with him, failing to get them through the gates each time.
Ackerley wasn’t exactly alone when his brother left. The villagers tried to keep him company the best they could. But it was hard for him to get to know anyone. He much preferred keeping to himself now. The kids his own age, there were only a couple, thought he was weird and didn’t want to put in the extra effort to be his friends. Ackerley didn’t mind. He overheard them saying that he wasn’t quite right: “the Welgo’s really messed him up” they would say.
A little girl about ten often sat with him at the beach in the evening. Ackerley would tell her to go away; that he didn’t want her there. She never left. He was grateful to her though, at least he wouldn’t be completely alone. She would tell him about her life and about how the Welgos took her parents. He assumed they she meant they killed them. She lived with her aunt now. She too kept quiet around others and didn’t want to make friends. Just like with Ackerley, the other little kids thought she was weird.
Three years passed. They went by in a blink. Ackerley spent a lot of his time fishing and going to the capital to sell all the fish the town could spare. Eighty percent of the profits went to the town fund, the other twenty to his pocket. He hoped it would be enough for him to leave when he turned eighteen. His fantasies turned slowly from what could have been done to save Cerise, to what he could do with a bunch of money out in Vloraisha. He thought about finding another beachfront village and starting over, just him—no past, no problems, no previous existence at all. A small part of him, though it grew bigger, even thought about going back up into Chell—or whatever it was called now—and trying to live among those Chells who had survived and built their own towns. Surely there must be some. And then an even smaller part thought of traveling up to Indigo. He wondered if anything was left. He wanted to meet people who knew Cerise. To hear stories about the royal family and to see the castle that she grew up in.
Kenton came back from his longest trip of all only two weeks before Ackerley’s eighteenth birthday. Ackerley had spent the last few months planning his life out. He was going to leave. He had made enough money to last a whole year, hopping from town to town until he found the right one to settle down in. The hardest part of planning was trying to figure out what to say to his brother. Kenton always came back from his trips with a speech about how glad he was that his brother was safe in New Chell. How his brother wouldn’t be able to find a better place if he looked for a century. But now was Ackerley’s time to give him a speech. He would tell his brother that he was almost eighteen. That it was time for him to get out of that place where no one liked him that much and find a place where he could start over.
Early one morning, about dawn, Ackerley got up to head down to get in his little boat and fish, when he heard what sounded like a great many people coming closer. He waited to see what was going on. Murraya ran out of the longhouse anxiously. She always feared the Vloraishans coming to kick them out. They both breathed a sigh of relief when they saw that the group was led by Kenton. About ten people followed him into the ring of houses.
Ackerley moved forward cautiously. Kenton appeared far too happy. He laughed and joked with the people as though knowing them his whole life. They all wore the bright oranges and greens of Vloraisha, but their features were more of Chell.
“Hey, Ackerley.” He said glowingly upon seeing his brother’s quizzical expression. “I finally managed to get some Chells in. It took quite a while to smuggle all the clothes out one at a time. I had to wear two layers each time.”
“Uh-huh.” Ackerley said. He cleared his throat. This would be the best time to say what he had been planning.
A young woman stepped out from behind Kenton. For a searing, painful second Ackerley felt a sudden fear. He recoiled.
This girl, about his own age, looked dirty and worn. Her bright clothing contrasted greatly with her disheveled hair that fell raggedly and unevenly about her shoulders. Her arms were scarred with unmistakable blade slashes. Despite all this, it was her face that made him back away. The right side of her face was discolored and deeply damaged. Her right eye shut; a long scar across her shriveled eyelid. For the briefest of moments, he was certain that Thora stood before him. His brother had told him that Thora had been the one to let the Welgos into the castle.
Ackerley looked more carefully. This wasn’t Thora at all; this girl was much too young. He stared at her for a while, unable to move or speak. She
The Chellion Days Page 50
