by RG Long
“And then who will lead the halflings to Grandun-Krator?” Gaflion asked. “Now is not the moment of sacrifice. Run!”
Gorplin looked at Jurrin and Jurgon and knew Gaflion was right. These two little ones would need their protection.
He breathed out, strapped his axe to his back, and turned around.
Putting his fear behind him, as much as he could at least, Gorplin ran down the bridge. He didn't dare to glance over his shoulder, lest he lose his footing and fall into the blackness below.
He didn't need to look back anyway. He could hear the demons coming for them.
There was a low growl that sounded both far away and very near. Like someone was shouting and whispering into his ear at the same time.
Gorplin had seen the destructive power of a demon. He had led a charge against the one that had landed in the middle of a battle after breaking off from the dark comet.
From a distance, these looked much smaller than that great hulking beast.
“Master Jurgon!” Gaflion yelled as they sprinted. “Can you manage a bolt of energy?”
The halfling had been running as hard as he could. Gorplin knew that any magic would drain him fast. There would be no way of him finding enough strength in him to Speak much.
“Yup!” he said as he turned and whispered some words of magic. A blue bolt, like a small streak of lightning, came from his hand. It sped down the bridge and collided with a purple flame.
A pained howl rang out. One of the purple flames teetered and fell into the ravine, lighting up the blackness below for a moment. Then it went out.
“Excellent job, Master Jurgon!”
The halfling was wheezing now. His magic had cost him dearly.
“Think you can wrestle up another?” Jurrin asked him as they neared the other side of the chasm.
“Nope!” Jurgon struggled to reply.
Gorplin had known the answer long before Jurrin asked. To use Rimstone used so much energy from the untrained. He had seen it before.
Speakers were granted a wonderful gift. But using it too frequently or with too much force could put a Speaker at an extreme disadvantage.
The end of the bridge was just ahead. Gorplin, seeing that the bridge was widening, took a glance back. Jurrin was half carrying Jurgon. Gaflion was hurrying them along as best as he could.
All the while, a steadily growing purple light was gaining on them.
It could come to a fight soon enough.
Gorplin turned around just in time to skid to a halt.
There was a five-foot gap in the bridge. Underneath them was the last column before the stones connected with the other side of the chasm. The pillar still stood, but a portion of the structure had given way to time.
They couldn't cross.
Gorplin turned and stopped Jurrin and Jurgon before they ran off the end of the bridge.
“Bah. It's no use, Gaflion,” he said. “We'll have to fight.”
“Not we,” Gaflion replied.
In one motion, he scooped up Jurrin in his arms, and tossed him the length of the gap. Gaflion let out a strained grunt, and Gorplin remembered that he was still recovering from hurt ribs. The halfling landed on his feet, but the bridge beneath him swayed.
“Good toss, sir!” he said as he turned back with his arms open. “I'm ready!”
Gaflion picked up Jurgon, who was still wheezing, and threw him into Jurrin's waiting arms. Again, the bridge swayed precariously and again, Gaflion let out a groan. Sweat was pouring from his brow. A few stones fell from underneath the bridge.
“You can't do that with me,” Gorplin protested, partly out of pride and partly knowing that he weighed at least twice as much as the halflings did. Dwarves were not known for their light frames.
“Someone has to go with the halflings,” Gaflion countered, breathing heavily.
“I might be able to jump it.” Gorplin said.
Gaflion looked down at the dwarf with skeptical eyes.
A much louder roar rang out. The demons were approaching.
From this distance, Gorplin could begin to make out their shape.
These creatures looked more like hounds or wolves than the one they fought previously. Yet the only resemblance was a creature with four legs, a snout, and a tail.
Instead of fur, the beasts had skin that appeared to be made up of scales. Their massive jaws held razor-sharp teeth. They looked like they were foaming at the mouth.
They would also be upon them in moments.
"Now is not the time to argue, Master Gorplin!" Gaflion said as he grabbed him around his collar and under his belt.
Just as he was about to toss him, Gaflion paused and looked at the two halflings.
Jurgon held his hand outstretched and was muttering words of incantation.
Another bolt of energy flew from his hand and just missed Gaflion's head by a hand's width.
The magic shot hit another beast, sending it sprawling back into its companions. This caused another one to fall into the canyon below.
But now the bridge on both sides began to sway precariously.
"It's time, Master Gorplin," Gaflion said as he launched the dwarf over the gap.
As Gorplin's feet landed on the stones, they began to give way underneath him.
Jurrin reached out his hand and caught Gorplin's arm, pulling him along. The two of them managed to drag Jurgon to safety. The bridge began to give out from underneath them. Stones fell free and crashed into whatever awaited them below.
The darkness was overtaking the landscape.
"Jump, Gaflion!" Gorplin shouted, looking back at the stout old warrior.
Even as he said it, he knew it was hopeless. The gap was now ten feet wide and widening with every new stone that fell.
They ran for the end of the bridge. Gorplin, Jurgon and Jurrin reached the safety of the other side of the chasm and stood on firm ground. The dwarf took stock of the halflings. They seemed fine enough. He was more concerned about the great distance between them and Gaflion.
"You old fool!" Gorplin shouted. He was now a stone's throw away from the soldier. The bridge had given out all the way to the cliff face.
"Take care of the halflings, Master Gorplin," he yelled back at them. "Remember your purpose!"
He turned away and drew his sword, preparing to meet the remaining two demon hounds head on.
"Can't we help him, sir?" Jurrin said with desperation and sadness in his voice.
Gorplin was sure the halfling knew the answer to his own question.
The two beasts, still covered in their demonic purple flames, ran down the length of the bridge as quickly as their powerful legs would let them.
Gaflion simply stood, his back to Gorplin, sword drawn and in a defensive position.
There was no sign of fear or retreat in him.
The first beast waited until it was a few paces away before it leapt. Gorplin could see the red eyes of the beast glare at him. He pushed both halflings behind him and drew his axe.
There was little need.
Gaflion jumped and slashed with his own blade, cutting a deep wound into the beast's belly. With a yelp, it faltered and fell into the chasm.
Gorplin ran up to the face and watched the thing fall, it's purple flame's extinguishing as it did. Looking up, he saw the other beast, racing headlong into Gaflion.
The old warrior recovered from his previous maneuver and thrust his sword with deadly precision. Just as the beast roared, Gaflion's blade entered its mouth. Though it was dead before it reached him, the beast's momentum hit the veteran from Thoran hard. The two went tumbling down into the chasm together. A purple light followed them for a moment.
And then it went out.
"NO!" yelled Gorplin, falling to his knees as he watched the blackness over take the chasm as well as his heart.
30: Through Trials Still
Blume had lost count of the days.
At first she had attempted to pay attention to the passing of day and night
and keep track of it all in her head. But through Jeremy's sickness and her own deteriorating condition, she just couldn't keep up with trivial things like time anymore.
The cart was beginning to get smaller. Not that it was possible for the wooden cage to actually shrink, Blume reminded herself. Still, she felt as if she couldn't move without bumping into the sides of her prison or into one of the other occupants.
She had actually yelled at Thomas the other day. She felt awful about it now, but in that moment she had lost control and couldn't hold back.
"Would you quit wiggling so much? You keep waking me up!" she had screamed.
Looking back, she was sure he wasn't even awake before she raised her voice at him. He looked hurt and confused.
She looked at him now, snuggled with Rose and the others.
Even Jeremy had been sleeping in his own corner of the cart. His fever had broken, but he still complained of headaches. Due to this, he kept his head back, his eyes closed, and his mouth shut.
Blume felt distant from everyone, though they weren't more than an arm's length away. She wanted space. She wanted to run. She wanted out.
Even as she formed that thought, she began to question it.
Where would they be getting out?
And what future lay waiting for them?
Her answers weren't far off.
After some time of darkness, which Blume guessed to be nighttime, the light shone through their small window once more.
And then the cart lurched to a halt.
There was a lot more commotion going on outside than Blume had heard in a long time.
It sounded like hammers and saws. It also sounded like three times as many people as who walked along the road with them.
Suddenly, the door of their cart shuddered and shook. The sound of metal clanking on metal. Then Blume heard a single click and something slide.
Then she was blinded.
Light poured into their cart from the twin suns as they began their climb over the horizon. It took several moments for her eyes to get adjusted.
When she could finally perceive what was going on outside the door, her breath was stolen from her.
What must have been a once mighty forest now stood the large stumps of giant trees. For as far as her eyes could see, axe and saw had claimed every available piece of wood.
Her heart ached for the trees and their beauty.
Then a shadow of a figure stood in front of her view and shouted in a familiar tone.
"Come, you lazy ingrates," said the voice of The Boss, the one who worked for Miss Greer. "We've got a schedule to keep to."
The hands of various soldiers reached in and grabbed everyone inside, pulling them out into the light of both suns and enabling them to stand up straight for the first time in weeks.
Blume tried to take a moment to stretch, but was interrupted by a shove from a soldier.
"Move along, orphan," he said in a sneer. "You'll have plenty of time to work those sore muscles."
Even though Blume wanted to tackle him, she thought better of it. There was no good way to interpret his threat to her, either. Countless soldiers of the Southern Republic and the Mercs of Androlion surrounded her.
Men were everywhere.
Most in her general area were the soldiers who must have marched here alongside their wooden prison. Men of all ages and backgrounds milled about. All were dressed in the green and white of Androlion. Blume didn't see a single man wearing the colors of the Southern Republic.
Only the colors of hate and bigotry were seen in this camp.
The children were marched along.
They weren't chained together, or even tied. A sword tip kept them in line.
Once or twice, Blume thought she would have had the chance to flee, but with Jeremy still gaining back his strength, there was no way he could come with her. In addition to her own weakened state from the terrible conditions she had just come from.
Perhaps that was why they weren't even tied up.
Even though she had wanted to get some space between her and Jeremy, she would feel awful if she left him behind in his current state.
Their opportunities to escape were dwindling anyways.
Through what was left of the forest they walked, until they came to the remnants of a wall and a city Blume didn't recognize at first. Then she saw markings in the stone that could only be the doing of elves.
This used to be an elvish city, Blume thought. Whether it was Ingur or Talgel, she didn't know. But as they marched on, the telltale signs of an elvish settlement became more obvious. Tall towers of white stone shot into the air. What was left of them did anyways.
The ravages of war had ruined the city. Some buildings were left standing and men walked in and out of them. Others had been reduced to rubble and their stones repurposed.
Blume could feel the heat of a forge as they walked by. The black smoke that billowed from it was such a contrast to the once shimmering white stones.
And then the boats came into view.
Huge vessels floated in the harbor. Some reached higher than a three-story building before their masts even began to rise into the sky. Each boat looked like a small city, capable of carrying hundreds of men. There were more boats than Blume could count as they were prodded along.
This was an armada.
Men walked all over the boats. They climbed on the rigging. They tied off ropes. Some carried supplies onto the ships by way of walkways. Others inspected goods in crates and barrels. Blume saw some Speakers lift cargo onto a boat with great care.
A man sat at a desk covered in papers and various tools. Most of the equipment was used to weigh down the stacks of parchment that threatened to blow away in the wind.
“Ah!” he said, looking up from his work. “Miss Greer has delivered not only sails to drive our ships, but workers to feed our troops as well.”
Blume now understood what they had been making in the Home for the Helpless.
She couldn't help but feel remorse for helping this fleet set sail.
“Now let's see,” he continued as he looked down at his papers, taking them in one hand.
“The Good Fortune needs two. The Hope of Ruyn needs one. And the Pride of Men needs three.”
As he spoke, he pointed to various ships along the harbor with his free hand. The soldiers began to divide them up and the children began to shriek as they were pulled away from Rose and the others.
“No! No! Miss Rose! I don't want to leave Miss Rose!”
“Thomas! Thomas, be brave!” Rose was shouting back to him. For someone with such a quiet disposition, she was quite loud.
One soldier was tugging Blume on as she watched Thomas be taken by another. He covered her mouth as she tried to call out to Thomas. A third soldier pushed Jeremy to the ground in a different direction.
“Filthy dwarf. You'll serve me my supper the whole journey long,” a skinny man with a spear sneered. He pointed the weapon at him still on the ground.
Blume could see the rage in her friend's face. She tried to catch his gaze. She wanted him to see that she cared.
But before Jeremy could look her way, a voice rang out.
“Put that on my ship.”
They all turned to see a man riding his horse, dressed in a fine uniform and armor.
Blume recognized him, but wasn't sure from where.
He looked down on them with an air of importance. That they all stopped to consider him while this chaotic scene played out spoke of his rank.
“Ah,” said the man at the table, rummaging through his papers again. “It seems you have the last three needed for your boat, Master...”
“Then trade one of them,” he said, cutting him off.
Rose, Blume, and a little girl named Anne had been grouped together. A soldier grabbed Anne by the arm and traded her for Jeremy.
“Put them with the others,” the man said. Then he turned his horse and trotted off in a different direction.
Blume cau
ght his eye for a just a moment. There was something about this man she wasn't sure of. Was it something good or something to be more fearful of? She couldn't tell.
Jeremy, Anne, and Blume were marched off to the ship that was called the Pride of Men.
Blume thought the irony of that name couldn't have been lost on everyone who saw what men had done.
As they passed by the ramps that led to the other boats, soldiers led children from the caravan up to the decks of the ships. Some went willingly, as if they marched to their deaths. Other struggled against their captors. They bit, scratched, and fought all while being dragged to the ship. One actually got free from one soldier, only to be hit over the head by another. The boy fell unconscious. The one who hit him picked him up, threw him over his shoulder, and took him on board.
Blume wasn't certain if she should struggle against her own soldier or willingly submit herself to whatever fate lay ahead of her. For the sake of staying conscious, she decided not to fight.
Yet.
The harbor was a combination of both old and new docks. Blume walked on what must have been ancient stones. The craftsmanship was a beautiful thing to behold. Only, some of it now was added to and built on top of. Blume tried to imagine the docks without the piles of wood and additional crude bridges, walkways, and extensions.
Currently, they walked over new construction. Wooden planks were evenly spaced but quickly laid. So many ships lined the docks that Blume was quickly losing count.
Several ships were still lacking sails. Sailors and soldiers were now carrying large bundles of white material onto each ship that was not yet ready. On the vessel they were being led up to, the large main sail was being unfurled.
Blume felt awful knowing that she had helped Androlion by making the sails for his ships. She made a mental note to burn them as soon as she got her hands on some Rimstone.
She felt the spot where her necklace normally hung and her heart sank.
There was so much lost with that single piece of jewelry.
The sound of their footsteps echoed beneath them as they climbed the wooden ramp. Blume looked down and saw her reflection in the water below. She was hardly recognizable. Her hair was matted and shaggy. Her skin was dirty and cracked.
