Back in the super-heated temple, a small, round-fronted device hidden high in the back wall of the ‘inner sanctum’ started to melt, the precisely curved glass mounted at the front falling into the flames below as the plastic casing sagged and dropped globs of burning hydrocarbons on the as-yet unburned, do-it-yourself, interlocking laminate flooring. The rocking chair and desk emitted thick, heavy smoke for a while, then succumbed to the horrendous heat and joined the locally sourced wooden structure in a frenzy of flames. Fire was no respecter of flammable materials, whether hewed by hapless serfs or secretly sourced from a major hardware store. The combined features of the once-feared temple of the self-styled God of Terraless uniformly succumbed to the indifferent but superior force of flame – just a local setback, or at least an annoyance to those who constructed it, but perhaps more ominously, a wakeup call to the cold and ruthless feudal-style lord known as Seirchaal.
Chapter Seven
Soldiers and Javelins
“Gefforen!” Eshezy called out as her young assistant seemed to be lagging behind, the strange metal case proving to be a heavy load, or perhaps just an awkward shape, for a forced march. She paused, aware that the twenty-five remaining miners had spread out somewhat, despite efforts by Travakane and Harthangan to keep the group close. Everyone is getting tired… and I don’t blame them one bit! Gefforen was towards the back, but there were three miners behind her, and Eshezy’s other two concerns – Jeraldanine and Tresnian – were currently running in concentric circles around their adored liberator.
Travakane, hearing her call, stopped the forward section of the ‘troop’ and checked the grasses to his left, whilst Harthangan checked to the right. The three behind Gefforen continued to approach until the stragglers were only thirty yards behind the leaders. Jeraldanine noticed the pause and got her new friend to take a break with her from their high-energy frolicking, dropping to their knees in front of Eshezy.
She looked at them, wishing that they could continue to have a carefree existence, unlike the previous three years that had seen Jeraldanine a subject to forced child labour, from ‘sunrise to sundown’, though even that sky-bound relief to her monotony had been denied her by the constant presence of the sun-creature. And now they, too, burn brightly on and on in their new-found freedom, though by all rights they should be fast asleep…
“We are more than half way there, my little ones.” She looked down at them, attempting a reproving tone, but she could not stop smiling at the evidence of excess energy, of ‘joie de vivre’: their long locks were awry, and their eyes were almost wild with excitement. Eshezy noticed Tresnian’s shirt had ridden up so much that a wide strip of her midriff was exposed and her skirt had slipped revealing the top of her right hip… and the yellowing bruises that seemed to extend from there, halfway around her skinny, scarred body. Those bruises and scars were given to her before she came to Terraless… Eshezy felt suddenly cold inside, despite the mild warmth absorbed from above and generated within by the uphill march. This must never happen here… it will never! Not while I’m alive!
Her eyes slipped over to the child’s companion in merry mayhem: Jeraldanine’s shirt hung loosely down over her skirt; the ties had become almost undone during her exertions, threatening to fail completely. Her neck glowed with a sheen of moisture and the collar bone on her right side was partly visible due to the unevenly shifted garment.
The hair on the tops of both their heads was soaked, plastered flat, but they were grinning at each other and her, having the time of their lives – and so Eshezy tried to give her next directions to them with a sympathetic spin. “I’m going to need my two youngest and sharpest followers to help me now, so no more running – unless I say so.” She knelt down and restored Jeraldanine’s ties, straightening out the shirt as she did so. “Watch the grasses – take one side of the pathway each. Sit up a bit, Tresnian.” She retied the slipped skirt on the new girl, trying to avoid applying any pressure on the massive bruise by raising the waistline several inches above the yellowed hip. It’ll be more of a miniskirt, now! Gently she teased the shirt back down, covering the evidence of abuse. At least she can’t remember it – that’s a blessing for her. No one who comes here does… though I get close, sometimes! “Now, I want you two to stay close to the centre, make sure these big guys –” Here she gestured at the miners. “Are always between you and the field, and keep watching.”
Jeraldanine nodded, a little subdued by her personal saviour’s attention. “Yes, we’ll look, Eshezy!”
Tresnian nodded, happy to agree to whatever was asked, not sure about anything except the love she felt from those now close to her, still wildly world-stunned by the abruptness of her arrival in Terraless.
That might mean the difference – if we do get ambushed, they may have enough energy to make a dash for my Fortress. Eshezy turned back to the forward-most ones, directing her next comments to Travakane. “Those four soldiers could be waiting for us. And remember, they have javelins.” She shuddered at the thought of miners pinioned to the ground by such a weapon, and refused to contemplate other potential targets. Our only hope is that their limited time for practicing should mean they will not be very good at throwing – and most importantly, aiming – yet.
“Everyone! Javelins are not as fast as arrows.” Eshezy spoke a little louder, including all in her advice as she held up one of her speedy projectiles. “If you see one coming, you may have time to step sideways, and not be hit.”
Several miners nodded, those fortunate enough to have been assigned as swordsmen gripping their clumsily-contrived weapons tighter at the thought.
“And be assured, if they start coming our way, I will target the throwers. Arrows are much faster. My arrows do not miss.”
The group moved on, walking steadily, watching the tall grasses intently as they drew gradually nearer to their refuge. Time seemed to slow, and Eshezy found herself wondering about the strange and evil motivations of Seirchaal and what made some people find pleasure in domination and control. Eshezy noticed she was looking ahead more frequently, thinking or hoping that at any moment she would be able to see her Fortress home, though she knew that the time for their arrival was still not quite upon them.
“Look out!” The cry came from a miner a few feet ahead of her and drew her attention to the left in time to see the glisten of reflected light from the burnished shaft as it dropped harmlessly between the miner and Travakane. Something made her turn to the right and another javelin skimmed past her left arm, close enough that she imagined she had felt it pass, the faint hairs on her arm tingling in autonomic response.
A wordless cry from behind her seemed to freeze her blood for a moment. Eshezy spun around in time to see Ragastang fall sideways, his right leg pierced just above the knee. Jeraldanine and Tresnian crouched down with him, a look of horror on the slightly younger face, one of grim resolution on the other.
Eshezy dragged her attention back to the periphery, in time to see another javelin heading towards her. She side-stepped it, pulled back on her bow and let fly as the thrower charged out of the grasses, another javelin held more like a battle pike as he unerringly targeted her. The arrow penetrated his forward-most arm, pinning it to his lower chest and he fell, his still scabbarded sword beneath him. Eshezy noticed quite distinctly the sound of her arrow snapping, as if nothing else could possibly be commanding her attention. Nevertheless, she spun to the other side on hearing the still quieter rustle of broken grasses, in time to launch another arrow into the abdomen of another advancing soldier. He collapsed, writhing in pain just feet in front of her and she threw her bow from one hand to the other, wrenched her sword out and slashed as the huge soldier known evocatively as Big Karg bore down, javelin targeted on the back of Harthangan.
That worthy was already occupied parrying a slashing sword blow from the other remaining soldier. Eshezy noted the fearsome grin on his face and realised this could only be the brutish Kartilagburg.
Travakane joined the fra
y, swinging his unfinished soldier sword, knocking Big Karg’s javelin down slightly; Eshezy left this action and ran forwards to intercept Kartilagburg. As she did so, he made a surprise jab at Harthangan with a single-handed grasp on a broken stub of a javelin, causing him to double over. Rage boiled up in Eshezy’s mind as she saw her new friend fall, and she swung hard, knocking the javelin out of Kartilagburg’s grasp. His other hand swung up, sword clenched in a crushing grip, and she had to move fast to block his next slash, dodging backwards to avoid a slice across her neck. Before she could gauge her next move, he threw himself sideways, knocking another miner to the ground, slashing wildly at him and almost succeeding in disarming him – permanently. Unpredictably, he did not stop his sudden sideways movement but crashed away and was simply swallowed up in the tall grasses, disappearing from view.
Turning around, she found Karg and Travakane hammering at each other, several miners trying to slice or stab the last and foremost soldier from the sides and back.
Eshezy placed another arrow in position and pulled back on her bow. “Everybody, get ready to step back! Karg, if you don’t want to die quite yet, stop… surrender!”
The miners backed off, anticipating his acquiescence, but the gap opened was irresistible, and he charged directly at the one who dared to claim the authority to command him.
Eshezy hesitated – almost too long – but then her arrow found its target, sinking into his snarling visage just left of his nose, dropping him instantly to the earth at her feet.
A sudden silence descended as the sounds of shouts and cries, gasps and grunts, and of metal clanging on metal and bodies falling on dirt all ceased.
Gefforen approached slowly from a few yards down the trail, she seemed to be having increased difficulty with the special metal case. “I’m sorry, Eshezy. I think it may be wrecked.”
Eshezy made a quick count of the enemy force which showed three visible adversaries, now only corpses and one soldier who had disappeared into the vast grass field. There were several miners with cuts and contusions. Harthangan was trying to force himself erect but the blow to his stomach had winded and bruised him, though the point of the javelin had not penetrated the skin under his thick clothing. Ragastang was the only one unable to stand, but his injury did not appear to be life-threatening so Eshezy allowed her attention to settle on the bearer of the image-recording device. She sniffed, trying not to laugh, as she saw a javelin had penetrated the side of the case, which was consequently hanging lopsidedly from Gefforen’s twin-handed grip.
“I didn’t mean to,” she said, gasping. “But I saw the javelin-thing and somehow I lifted the case and the stick hit it and I fell over.”
Eshezy walked over, calling her most loyal disciple closer to her. Gefforen dropped the case and fell into her arms.
“That’s why I needed you to bring it – I know it now! So my Gefforen would be safe!” The hug was intense, but Eshezy cut it short and bent to pull the javelin out. She popped the catches and chuckled again as she saw the fragments of glass and the tell-tale hole in the marvellous device. She looked up at Gefforen, who still seemed to be worried she had failed her leader. “Rather it than you, any day!”
“Eshezy,” Travakane interrupted her amusement. “Kartilagburg may return and we are easy targets, if he has any javelins left out there.”
“Yes, he may, though it looked to me like he had developed a sudden sense for self-preservation.” Eshezy nodded, closing the case again. The catches still work fine! “Gefforen, bring your ‘shield’ with you, even though it is broken, I don’t want to leave it out here.” She turned from her dedicated disciple, certain that her wishes would be respected and bent down to address Ragastang’s injury. Good job these javelins do not have a ‘head’ like my arrows. She asked for a clean length of cloth and looked him in the eyes. Hmm, brown, sorta like mine. He’s really getting a lot of hard knocks.
“I suggest you breathe out now.”
Ragastang, confused, nevertheless did as she instructed. Once he had fully exhaled, she pulled the javelin free and watched as he struggled to cry out.
“Sorry, I didn’t want to announce your injury to that thug out there; it’s probably the kind of thing that attracts him.”
He nodded, breathing heavily, unable to find words.
“I’ll get some well water on that very soon.” She wrapped the wound with a spare blanket.
Next, Eshezy showed two miners how to form a chair with their arms. Once they were comfortable, she got Ragastang into position with the assistance of two others. “Let’s move on.” She made sure Jeraldanine and Tresnian were going to move with her.
“The rest of you, pick up any javelins you can see, but don’t stop to search – we’ll come back and get the rest later. And when you two get tired.” She addressed the ‘chairmen’. “We’ll transfer Ragastang to another ‘human chair’.” The two shook their heads, determined to continue, and their resolve was made feasible as the top surfaces of the Fortress wings extending toward Neechaall came into view a few minutes later.
A few more paces by the diverse group brought the glassed windows into sight, and there were sighs and gasps from those – and that was most of the group – that had never seen Eshezy’s Fortress home before.
Eshezy looked back as they left the perilous path and walked into the broad expanse that had been so thoroughly cleared according to her instructions, moments after her departure to rescue the miners in Neechaall. There was no sign of the vanquished Kartilagburg. Her attention was drawn back to her expanded home by a ragged roar of triumph, almost as if her Fortress had found its own voice. Dozens of Neechaallites ran out to welcome the miners and Eshezy. She hugged a multitude of the jubilant citizens, many of whom were clearly still half asleep, and directed everyone to move into the enclosing arms of the two wings of her Fortress.
Now, where is that rope? She walked back into the tall grasses, an arrow at the ready in case the remaining soldier-at-large decided to return. Somehow her footsteps seemed to be guided and she was not surprised when she tripped and almost fell… There, wrapped around her right boot, was a coil of rope. Picking it up, she was frustrated to find that it was only as long as she was tall – not nearly enough to reach the water at the bottom of the well, assuming she could somehow conjure it back into existence. Looking at the ends, she found it had been hacked. Probably with those cheap swords of theirs!
She walked back out of the field and over to the point where she knew the well should be, looking all the while at her marvellous Fortress home and remembering how many people it now housed. There must be a lot of thirsty people in there!
A slender lad dropped out under the back door and bounced to his feet.
“Basrillene!” Eshezy mentally recalibrated her assessment of his physique, realising that she had unconsciously compared him to Travakane, Harthangan, Kartilagburg and the now defunct Karg. “Come over here!”
The lad approached, his expression hinting of intense pleasure at her return. “Welcome back, my Eshezy!” He coloured as he said this and she wondered at his choice of words but decided not to think too much on it, as her concern for her people seemed of more consequence. She dropped the idea of hugging him, however, as she felt suddenly awkward at the prospect.
He looked at the fragment of the rope in her right hand. “Don’t worry, no one is thirsty, we found two whole storerooms full of bottles of really tasty stuff, some of it is a bit like apples, some, we had never tasted anything like it before – but it is really good!”
“I still think we’ll be needing water. There’re lots of good things about it, and there’s Ragastang for example – he got speared so he needs some for his leg and there are some others with nasty cuts. It is very good to drink it, too – remember how well it worked on Jeraldanine!” She became anxious, then stopped and concentrated.
“There’s more rope inside, I’m sure.” Basrillene confided, discerning, from her expression, that she was attempting to determine the s
olution to the ‘well access’ problem. “I asked one of the girls to figure out all we have found – she’s been drawing pictures on a section of wall in the storeroom with the apple-flavoured drink. She’s really good at little pictures!”
Eshezy looked up at the wing to her right and saw Gefforen looking down at her from one of the bedroom windows. Tresnian’s face appeared beside, but slightly lower within the frame. Oh, good! I expect Jeraldanine is up there, too – perhaps someone has already found them a room to share - perhaps that’s it! She waved at the two, then gestured for Gefforen to come down. She resumed her conversation with her town manager: “I’m worried about that last soldier, Kartilagburg – he’s a nasty piece of work. He could be out there, with a few more of those javelins.”
“You don’t need to.” Basrillene shook his head emphatically. “There is always at least two people in each wing, looking out to see who is around, even during the sleep-time – that’s how we found out you were back. They’ll spot him if he comes close enough to be a threat.”
“Good.” Eshezy nodded, her mind rebelling, as it always did, at the idea that the bright light surrounding her was a natural part of any ‘night’. I must get those javelins collected and brought back in – but first, the water! She grinned at Gefforen as she rolled out under the back door and ran up to her idol.
“What can I do?” She bowed, but she was beaming, too, so the subservient pose was more than a little bit wrecked. “I’ve left the case in my new room with T and J!”
“Great! Remember the place with the arrows?” Eshezy could see that she did. “Check there, and see if there is another rope.” She held up the fragment.
There was a small nod and the increasingly self-assured disciple dashed back into the Fortress.
Terraless Page 11
