The King's Tribe

by Kai Widdeson

  Our movements disturb a flock of nesting birds and the leaves rustle as they take to the skies. I watch them slowly shrink in the distance with envy, travelling airborne back down the path between the trees. What I would give for their freedom, the option to take flight and go as I please. I could head straight back to Avlym and then onwards, starting a new life away from all the pain and the tyranny. As the birds finally disappear, the deep blanket above us finally begins to lighten.

  By the end of the following day we no longer trek through mud, the sodden ground giving way to slippery pavestones. I jolt as each fresh crack in the stone below sends a jar bouncing around my teeth. The rain has persevered and thickened, falling from stormy grey clouds that block out the sun and condemn the world to seemingly perpetual shade. Orrian and I sit in our suffering. I end up offering my shirt to one of the children, as bloody and ripped as it may be, it should help a little. Orrian and I both sit topless now. The young cling to the skin of the elders, teeth clattering and skin turning blue. Medea shouts out to one of the soldiers for help, pleading for anything that might help them. A snap of the whip answers.

  Several more hours pass, I later emerge from my thoughts to find that the light has faded, and the downpour reduces to a light drizzle.

  I am startled from my thoughts as shouts and commands break the long-settled silence. Almost immediately those in chains behind us start muttering and staring into the distance, wide-eyed and slack-jawed. I notice the ground at their feet is brightening, illuminated by an approaching source.

  A large stone wall rises before us, turrets disappear into the clouds at regular intervals. Long banners drape over the sides which are posted with several sentries, shadows fluttering in and out of the torchlight. They call down to the head of the approaching army before disappearing into a couple of large towers which stand either side of the road.

  In front of us rises an impossibly large fortified gate, a mesh of thick twisted steel covering the enormous archway. The entrance is easily big enough to accommodate any of Avlym’s buildings and through the bars large wooden doors begin to swing inwards. Lanterns hang from braces and several smaller openings seem to lead into the inside of the wall itself. Faint glows emanate from narrow slits in the stone and occasionally dark figures rush past. I have no doubt that the activity is a result of our arrival.

  The unmistakable heaving of chains fills the night, and then, somehow, the metal begins to rise. Orrian is alert now, crouching beside me as we try and take in our destination. We watch as the sharpened spikes forming the bottom of the gate disappear upwards, leaving the entrance open as we are carted inside. It takes several long seconds to pass between the thick walls, from the footsteps and shouts above there may very well be an entire building above our heads. As the large wooden doors drift to a stop, I lower my chin to address the new world that opens before us.

  We emerge into a large open courtyard centring around an ornate statue with water spouting from it. The stone depicts a solitary man, sword in hand and crown on head, words are scratched into a plinth, but I can’t read them from here. Back home all water is used and comes from the well, not put on display like this. What must Avlym look like to the people who choose to display such casual extravagance? Our only measure of wealth is an abundance of food, but I suppose here it must be compared on a different scale entirely.

  The courtyard has several spokes exiting it, streets disappearing far out of sight between rows of A-frame white stone and wood buildings. Hanging lanterns swing from their tiled roofs in the slight breeze. Despite the late hour, many of the homes have windows ajar and signs of life carry from the inside.

  In front of us, the army begins to disperse, splitting into groups and disappearing through various doors and alleyways. Only a few remain as our guards. Our cart continues without stopping, heading directly past the fountain and across to the opposite side of the gatehouse. The street is slightly wider here and continues far into the distance towards many high rising lights.

  Laughter reaches us from up ahead and moments later we get our first actual look at life in the colony. A pair of large doors are pinned open to the streets, joy and conversation accompanying the hearty warmth that radiates from behind the walls. This at least is similar to home, I’m sure Bennie longs for a place like this.

  A few lounge casually against the walls, pausing in conversation as we pass. Their faces are too clean and their clothes too elaborate. I look away in shame, to them we must merely be filthy, caged, barely-clothed animals. I may have hidden my pride but Orrian has regained some of his, eyeing the citizens as if issuing a challenge.

  I wonder if those inside the tavern know of their people’s atrocities and the harm they’ve inflicted on the rest of us. Here they are, laughing, drinking, enjoying their lives between these high walls, but do they know at whose expense? I would have thought that they must to some extent, we saw no farms approaching here and they must know that their food must come from somewhere. I am curious as to how much of the real story they know.

  We pass the loungers wordlessly, continuing towards the lights. Behind us the tribespeople are soaking in their surroundings with awe, no doubt my expression has been similar, and occasionally a sharp crack echoes through the night as one of the soldiers must remind them to keep moving. Pride warms me as I note that they are still walking tall. Wounded and defeated as they may be, they are not ashamed of who they are when surrounded by such prosperity.

  The street comes to an end and we reach yet another open courtyard. New streets go off to either side as the path ahead is blocked by a new perimeter. Another stone wall stands between us and the lights above, which I can now see are hosted inside towers, turrets, and gargantuan halls. Long poles protrude from the top of the wall ending in unidentifiable objects.

  The gatehouse is already awaiting our arrival, it is slightly smaller than the first but bustling with more activity. Silhouetted metal spikes still cross the archway, ready to be lowered at any second, but, unlike the first, no doors hide our view from the other side. Instead, long chains cling to the rungs of a wooden floor stretching out into the cobblestone. A much smaller and better lit yard sits behind the gates and numerous figures are already lined up, presumably waiting to admit us.

  An order is barked and the soldiers around us stop, a second later the rough tumbling of the pavestones is replaced by rhythmic bumps that can only mean that we are now on the wooden planks. I only realise why the soldiers paused to let us go in front when I catch the tribespeople looking down at their feet. Either side of the wooden floor is a steep drop leading to a trench of water, the width is much too far to jump and sits pressed up against a narrow bank at the edge of the stone.

  The cart continues forwards and a second later we drop back down, continuing into the centre of the small space before coming to a stop. This is it, we’re finally here. Around us flashes of silver begin to emerge from the shadows until armoured guards surround us. Many of them have their swords drawn as if from this position we might somehow be in with a chance at overwhelming them.

  In front, a grand entrance leads into a large hall, the towers I spotted earlier soar up all around it, disappearing into the night sky. Decorated windows are a collage of many blending colours that cast a blurring tapestry onto the ground below.

  Three soldiers detach themselves from the darkness and make their way into the light, heading towards the cage. My eyes widen with recognition as the middle one removes his helmet.

  Becker.

  His smile widens as he approaches, reaching to his belt to free a crowded ring of keys. The tribe is forced backwards to make way for him as he steps forward.

  “Hello Dale,” Becker grins. Of course, he recognises me, it’s not as if I have a forgettable face. Then again, I wouldn’t have been wholly surprised if he hadn’t, it feels like a lifetime has passed since we each saw each other in the village.

  “Becker,” I say.

  “I’ve been looking for you, but of
course you know that.” Becker says with a slight chuckle, I cannot think of anything sweeter than beating that joy out of him. “It would have been so much easier for everyone if you’d just been sensible, especially your poor mother.”

  The next thing I know one of Becker’s companions is punching the side of the cage ordering me to sit back down. Orrian places a hand on my shoulder and forces me back into my seat, knuckles white and staring daggers at the smug face the other side of the metal.

  “If you’ve hurt her-” I start.

  “You’ll do what exactly?” says Becker. He smirks as I grit my teeth instead of replying.

  “Take the others,” Becker commands the man on his left. The soldier moves over to the first line and begins manhandling Horas towards a set of steps in the corner. The rest of the tribe are moved into a line and forced to follow.

  Becker turns back to face us as the last of Orrian’s people vanish below ground level. It is Orrian who is on his feet now, rushing past me as he is separated from his people.

  “Sit down pretender,” says Becker. Orrian doesn’t move, still staring at the spot where the others disappeared, even in the low light I can see the change as heat rushes behind Becker’s face. “I said sit down! You’re going straight in after them!” Becker’s shouting causes the baby in Sage Malach’s arms to begin wailing.

  Orrian finally obeys, allowing Becker to move over to the locks. Most of the guards have left now to accompany the others but an unnecessary amount stay considering the cage holds only us two and the vulnerable. The cage door opens slowly, giving Becker and his man plenty of time to ready their blades at us in case we try anything.

  “Out,” says Becker.

  I land on the wet stone next to Orrian and my legs sigh with relief as they finally get to straighten out. Becker leads us over to the steps whilst his comrade attempts to rush the elderly out into the open. Water drains down the grooves left by past footsteps as we make our way down the uneven stone steps towards a set of solid iron bars.

  The gate squeaks as it permits us entrance deeper into the earth. Flaming torches sit in brackets as we descend the otherwise plain staircase spiralling downwards. More guards have moved in behind us, blocking our exit as Becker leads us further and further downwards.

  A minute or so later we finally run out of stairs, ending in a small area with one single low-ceilinged tunnel leading off. From here the corridor looks eerily like the ones nested deep inside the mountain we took refuge in. Familiar shouts resonate through the walls, Medea’s skeletal shadow stands in the distance before moving out of sight.

  A horrific odour increases in strength as we continue down the claustrophobic path. Becker pulls us forwards as the tunnel widens around us. Walls of iron bars and crumbling stone surround us on both sides as we are ushered onwards. I look at the prisoners as we pass, I find a few familiar faces but there are far too many of them for them all to belong to the tribe. Up ahead the last of the tribespeople are released from their shackles and forced out of sight.

  The cells are spacious but much too small for the number of people crammed in there. Several bodies lay in various stages of decomposition, pushed away from the living. Movement is the only difference between some of the living and the dead in here, some distant corpses are collapsed broken in the corners whereas others stand and watch as we pass. A large pile of straw is crammed up against most edges and the place reeks of faeces and decay. The walls are falling away in places and the only light comes from the torches attached to the stone between the cells. The staircase led us far away from fresh air, I wonder how long it’s been since some of these prisoners last saw daylight or felt the wind on their faces.

  We finally come to a halt as Becker opens the emptiest cell at the end, Tharrin and Astera cling to the adjacent room as we pass. Horas is already waiting and catches his king as he is roughly shoved forwards. I recognise the warning just before I am similarly thrown, falling onto my hands.

  The clanging of metal and rustling of keys proceeds a soft click as the bars are locked behind us.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Horas lends me a steadying hand as I struggle to my feet. Orrian stands motionless next to him, facing the bars and away from his people who line the walls of their new home. They stare at the back of their captured king for several long seconds before huddling closer together. They shake uncontrollably as their sodden bodies drip onto the largely obscured pavestones, muddying the filth at their feet. I pull my arms tighter around my own bare chest.

  “Dale?” says an instantly recognisable voice from a different lifetime. My head whips around and I shove Orrian to one side as I throw myself at the iron rods.

  Mother. She clings to her own set of bars as I do now, only a few meters of walkway separate us. Her lower lip quivers as fresh tears etch their way down her previously beautiful face. Her features, once radiant, now hide distantly behind long-settled grime. Dark blood crusts the edges of her forehead and one eye is shadowed within a sea of black and purple.

  A roaring inferno charges through my chest as all other thoughts and questions are obliterated by the unquenchable fury. My eyes burn and my tormented fists hammer down on the barrier before me. An arm locks around under my armpit from behind forcing me a step backwards as my throbbing hands lower to my side, bloody and twitching.

  “Are you ok?” Orrian asks worried, letting go of my arms and stepping out from behind me.

  “You talk?!” my mother exclaims, ignoring the question. Of course, she’s only ever known him during his vow of silence at Avlym. Considering everything that’s happened since we last saw her, I can’t believe that’s her first question.

  “I do yes, my name is Orrian and these are my people. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, I can’t thank you enough for what you did for me,” says Orrian. The words come tumbling out as he seizes my mother’s shocked silence, it feels as if he’s been bearing the weight of these words for quite some time and is rushing to get them off his chest.

  “Are you ok?” I press, finally coming to my senses. “Where’s Alice?”

  “Yes, no I’m fine. She’s safe, she’s with Arthur,” she reveals.

  “Where are they?” I ask, looking around the dungeon. I scan the shadows of the nearby cells for Avlym’s leader and my sister but if they’re in there I can’t spot them.

  My mother quickly sweeps her eyes up and down the path between us, I can tell from her nervousness that she’s looking for any guards that may not have yet left. Thankfully, we’ve been left alone for now at least.

  “Tarrin, hopefully. After you left to meet Gu-, Orrian, from the forest, Rhys and the boys came back. They were all cut up and Landen was holding his arm, they stumbled straight into the meeting in front of Becker and his men.

  Arthur tried to intercept them, he wanted to get to them before Becker could, but Cecilia got there first. You know how she is, she got all flustered when she saw her son and straight away opened her fat mouth and starting raving about you and Orrian. She condemned all of us, just because her little monster finally got what he had coming, she betrayed the whole village.

  Becker and his men were over the moon when they overheard her shouting, how could they not. A team of them went looking for the two of you. When they couldn’t find you, they had to come back, Becker was furious,” my mother says.

  She stops, I can see the tears resuming as she chokes on her words trying to continue.

  “They burnt everything,” she whispers, “Our home, farms, everything. Becker started marching straight towards me so I handed Alice to Arthur and told him to get out of here with the others. He had already started planning our escape, he said that he’d been talking to Thoren’s advisors a lot recently and that Tarrin was our best hope. When they started coming Randall tried to get in their way, but Becker’s men beat him down.”

  No. Avlym can’t be gone. No. Would Becker really set fire to it all? Of course, he would, they already did it to the tribe so why not us. I’
ve never hated the man more, that is of course assuming that you don’t need humanity to be a man. I have only been to Tarrin a couple of times, even though it is barely more than an hour’s walk from Avlym. I’ve never meet Thoren either, I hope Arthur’s faith in the village’s leaders wasn’t misplaced.

  I think of our little patchwork huts, modest and always needing repair but still, it had been our home. The single place of safety in a world that had suddenly been tipped upside down. They didn’t even go after just our family for harbouring Orrian, they went after the whole village. All our crops, all our supplies, how will they all eat this winter?

  “They took me here straight away, at least the others had managed to get away. Becker wasn’t too bothered by them anyway, it was you two that he was after,” my mother finishes.

  I take a moment to absorb the news. I need to try to accept that the Avlym I know is gone, but at least from the sound of it most of its people are safe. Of course, Becker had gone straight after my mother. If he had found us before the army did on the beach, I have no doubt that he would have used her against me. I’m beyond grateful that her and I weren’t put in the same position as Edwyn with Orrian.

  My poor sister. She’ll be safe with Arthur, I know he’ll take care of her, but we shouldn’t be here whilst she’s left without a family.

  “What about-?” I start.

  “Robyn’s fine too,” my mother finishes, anticipating my question. At her words, the last of my nervous terror is released with a soft sigh of relief.