The King's Tribe

by Kai Widdeson

  We walk in mourning as we continue our journey, we can’t risk staying in one place too long. Orrian forces conversation out of the rest of us, unwilling to let us stoop into morbid silence. Predictably, the first thing he asks for is Jaq and Ryfon’s story. I am surprised that the king has held off asking for as long as he has, I certainly know that my curiosity has increased as it has aged.

  It turns out that once Jaq and Ryfon’s rafts had escaped from the bay they hadn’t travelled far. They led their group of rafts up the coast someway before bringing themselves in onto a smaller beach. They knew that they couldn’t come back to us, and that out there alone with only the young and vulnerable they wouldn’t survive in the open for long. So, they went back to the only place of real safety that they’d known since the Great Fire, a place so daring to return to that the colony would hopefully not think to look there. They went back to the mountain.

  “Did everyone make it?” Orrian interrupts.

  “No,” answers Jaq grimly. “We lost a couple to arrows and one of the elders passed away mid-journey.”

  Silence hangs in the air as the tribespeople all process the loss of more of them. They must have expected casualties, but it still hurts when they are confirmed.

  “Is Tharrin still alive?” Jaq asks. At first, I think he’s simply worried for his younger comrade’s safety, but his expression indicates a much deeper sadness.

  “He was in one of the locked cells so he should be,” says Orrian hesitantly.

  “Arys didn’t make it,” says Jaq.

  It doesn’t seem possible, surely Jaq must be mistaken. That energetic boy, the one who had pestered his brother in front of Horith, who had constantly been running with his friends and playing even on the darkest of days, surely he can’t be gone too. I remember him skidding past us in the sand, ruining his brother’s food before running off gleefully. Children shouldn’t be touched by wars or fighting. Arys had been the only family that Tharrin had left. I recall his worries as he fretted in his cell, barely able to be comforted by Astera and Horas. If my heart has been aching for him before it may as well be withering and dying now. Tharrin will still be sitting there in his cell. Horas will be trying to take his mind away from his fears, and neither of them will yet know that they have been made a reality. For the second time that day we take a moment to mourn the lost.

  “Please, continue,” Orrian says eventually, his voice quiet and soft.

  It took them a little while to find the mountain entrance, and longer still to clear Faelyn’s rubble that hid it, but eventually they made their way back inside. They managed to get enough food for the others but couldn’t just sit there not knowing what happened to the rest of us. Then Jaq remembered the ambush that first night that they had found us.

  Sure enough, the defeated colony soldiers were still there. Jaq had told Ryfon and the pair of them started constructing a plan to get into the colony. They waited until the other gates were open and then simply marched inside dressed as the soldiers. The key was confidence they said, they had an agreed backstory, but no one even stopped to ask who they were.

  Once inside, they camped out for a day getting the layout of the city and trying to figure out how to get inside the inner gates. They even managed to familiarise themselves with a few of the actual colony men, introducing themselves as new recruits and learning their job. It was risky though, they always had to keep their helmets on to cover up the green tattoos that would have given them away.

  One night they were awoken from their hiding spot by shouts running along the wall. They were screaming about some signal that had been lit in one of the towers. The next thing they knew they were being dragged along by the others towards the entrance.

  “I couldn’t believe my eyes when you lot came charging towards us,” Jaq says with a half laugh. “Here we were trying to figure out how in the god’s names we were going to get inside to rescue you and you make it all the way to us by yourselves.”

  “Yes well, we have Damion to thank for that,” informs Orrian.

  This leads to Damion moving onto his story about how he was taken from his den and forced to serve the colony, with some encouragement from Orrian. He would be treated like an animal, as were dozens of the kids that accompanied him. Nobody knew what happened once you got too old, one day someone would just disappear. Damion was quickly becoming one of the older workers when we had been brought in.

  It sounds as though I’d spoken truer words than I realised when I’d been convincing him to help us. Orrian takes over the story from here, describing the battle in the cells and my idea to jump from the moat.

  “That’s why we found you so wet?” Jaq asks incredulous before turning to me, “and that was all your idea?”

  I nod, embarrassed.

  “Wow,” he laughs. “No wonder you’re the Akanian.”

  There it is again. Yes, I fought on the beach, but I couldn’t even kill an unarmed Becker at my feet, and it was Orrian who had done most of the fighting to get us freed. I don’t need the look of warning that Orrian gives me, I know not to reveal my doubts, but Jaq’s words claw at me still.

  “What are we going to do now?” asks the girl, she had introduced herself earlier as Damaris.

  “Aren’t we going to Avlym?” Damion asks confused. Damn, I’d almost forgotten of my empty promise.

  “Damion, the colony-” I start, unsure of if my words will allow me to continue, “I’m so sorry. Avlym, it’s gone.”

  “But you said-” Damion begins. Comprehension slowly dawns behind his eyes as he faces my apologetic look.

  “I know, I’m sorry. They burned everything, but we had to get out of there,” I rush, desperate for our saviour to forgive me. I notice the others have all slipped into silence and look onwards as we walk, refusing to make eye contact with the starved boy. They all knew as well, although I doubt Damion cares, it is my treachery that will have kindled the blaze in his heart. “We needed-”

  “Don’t talk to me,” Damion interrupts, silencing my attempts. He loses stride with me and falls to the back of the group, but not before a slight sob escapes his lips.

  Guilt rips my conscience to shreds as I watch him stray behind. He needs time, I can at least give him that.

  “We need to figure out how to get the others,” Orrian says, banishing the awkward silence that has already begun to settle. I am thankful for the certainty in his tone, there’s not a chance that I would leave my mother in that place.

  “Absolutely,” Horas chips in. He casts his vote as if challenging anyone to get in the way of him retrieving his twin sister. The others all murmur their agreement, all except Damion who remains silent. He may be too lost in his own thoughts to have heard the young king, although even if he did, after everything he’s been through none of us could blame him for not volunteering to go back to that place.

  “But what about now?” asks Damaris, she sounds desperate for a plan, any solid destination to journey towards whether physical or else. “I take it we’re going back to the mountain first?”

  “I can’t,” I say quickly, causing all heads to turn in my direction. “I need to see my sister.”

  “I can’t either,” states Damion from behind, surprising everyone. His voice is thick with emotion. “It’s about time I go back to my parents.”

  I had completely forgotten, Damion has no idea about what happened to his family after he was taken. How would he know about his mother’s suicide? Or Bennie’s descent into drunkenness? An internal war rages inside me over if it’s my place to tell him, particularly considering the last few minutes. He needs to know, but I’m not sure I can tell him, not now.

  “No, no way,” Orrian cuts in, ensuring my silence. “We need to stay together, we go to the mountain.”

  “If we’re going to take our people back, we’re going to need all of us. That means my people, your people, the other villages. Besides, it would be a lot better for us to go to Tarrin and tell them you’re coming before you all just
arrive at their doorstep,” I say, fired up for the debate that I’m sure is about to come. I also hope that after everything we’ve been through together, the formalities we’re expected to show the young king have lessened. Otherwise, I have just outright gone against an order.

  “He’s right,” Jaq says quietly.

  “What?” Orrian asks incredulously. I can’t blame him, Jaq has always been obediently at his side before.

  “We’re going to need everyone, and you should go with them,” says Jaq. “It’s time for you to be a king again, you need to talk to these people. Why should they join us in a war if they don’t even know who we are?”

  “But the children?” Orrian starts weakly.

  “Will be fine,” Jaq reassures his king. “some of us go to them, and some of us go to the village. We’ll be ok, you need to go.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Orrian has continued to push the four of us at a blistering pace after separating from the other group over a day ago. Our final member of the team turned out to be Damaris after she insisted to personally helping to protect her king. Damion still hasn’t uttered a single word to me. I constantly fight the urge to explain myself and force myself to give him the space he needs.

  I had left Jaq with some vague directions for getting to Tarrin for when the time comes to fight. I am sure the route I described cannot be the quickest as the first section of it involves reversing our path all the way back to Avlym, but hopefully it should be enough. The last time I visited Tarrin was well over a couple of years ago and whilst I can inform him of several landmarks along his course, he may have to search for them a little.

  Orrian has been driving us through the day and night to get here. At first, we were trying to keep an idea of where the main tracks were that the cart had taken and were working back from there. Although as soon as the first night fell, Orrian and Damaris managed to keep us on course using the stars. They use odd names as they point upwards at the sky, speaking of imaginary figures and objects. They both separately try to explain it to me, attempting to draw these invisible links through the night’s sky, but eventually they are forced to resign in their efforts and I leave them to it.

  Two and a half days after burying Thyon, we finally find civilization. Horse trots come from somewhere up above and fearing the colony, we drop to the ground. An old merchant with his cart crosses in front of us behind distant trees, not a single sword or breastplate in sight.

  We rise, wary but relieved. It turns out that the man travels on a marked path, one that I faintly recognise. They may have been slow about it, but the gods have finally gifted us with some fortune, within the next hour the village comes into sight. As soon as the first of the rooftops appear through the trees, I can’t help myself. Deaf to Orrian’s warnings that we need to be cautious, I take off running.

  By the time I reach the first fields I am drenched in sweat. My lungs burn as legs and arms continue to pump forwards.

  “Alice!” I shout. Heads emerge from the long rows of plants. In the distance, a group of kids stop splashing in the tremendous lake to stare.

  I continue into the heart of the village shouting her name breathlessly. People pause in their daily activities at the commotion, others appear in the daylight from their huts, which match Avlym’s style, squinting for the source. A pair of drunks stumble through the half-open swinging doors leading to a tavern.

  “Dale?” says a voice off to my right. Arthur has just appeared from an open door, a tiny face peeks around the corner behind him.

  My bare feet scrape against the rocks and solid dirt as I skid past Avlym’s leader, ignoring his questions. I throw myself into the shadow of the hut, eyes searching for the little girl by the window. There is no need, she’s already halfway towards me, throwing her arms wide as I bend low to meet her.

  I hold her tight as we both sob into each other’s shoulders, I question if I will ever let her go again. She squeezes my ribs as fiercely as she can and I return her embrace as tightly as I dare. I barely notice the scuffing of boots behind me as Arthur enters the room, or the calls outside from a tribal king, Alice is all that matters.

  At some point we run out of tears, but neither of us breaks away from the other. I hold the back of her head as she buries her face into my neck shaking. I tell her that it’s alright, that she’s safe and I’m never going to let anything hurt her.

  “Dale?” Arthur repeats gently behind me, I don’t know how long he’s been trying to get my attention.

  I tighten and rise, keeping Alice clinging to my side as I face my former leader. I blink the water from my eyes and step backwards, colliding against a low table.

  “Stay there,” I command. Arthur obeys, his face a mix of shock and bewilderment. “Did you know? About all the kids that went missing.”

  “What about them?” he looks genuinely confused.

  “Don’t lie to me,” I warn seething.

  “Dale, calm down. What are you talking about?” Arthur asks, his eyebrows drawn close in concern.

  “Don’t tell me to calm down!” I shout, causing Alice to flinch in my arms. My lip quivers frantically. “All the kids that went missing, the ones that got lost in the forest. It was the colony all along! They stole our children! It was all part of the deal, we give them food and supplies and they take whoever they want!”

  I back away next to the window as Arthur moves closer, but he’s not concerned with me. His hands shake as he steadies himself on the back of a chair before slowly lowering himself into it. His knees bounce uncontrollably as a solitary tear is freed with a blink.

  “No. I didn’t know,” Arthur answers in a whisper.

  “How could you not? It’s all part of the deal!” I accuse, fixing him with a look that could bore a hole in a tooth. I so dearly hope that Arthur is the man I believed he was but I’m not ready to let him off yet.

  “That deal was made a long time ago. Long before I was even born, I swear I had no idea that it was them,” Arthur says solemnly.

  I take a moment, allowing my heart to return to normal and the fire to cool in my mind. I believe him as I look down upon his troubled face, it’s ok, he didn’t know.

  “What happened to them?” he asks me.

  “The colony made them their slaves,” I spit as I redirect my anger back where it belongs. “Ask them yourself, Damion’s outside.”

  “Damion? Bennie’s boy?” asks Arthur, his eye’s widening. I nod and follow him as he hurries back out into the sun.

  I finally release Alice as I step back out onto the sun-dried dirt, something’s changed. Alice complains as I loosen my grip but stops when she sees Orrian. She rushes over to him and gives him as big a hug as her tiny arms can manage, I had almost forgotten the strange connection that these two had. Only Orrian and Damaris wait for us, Arthur turns back to me confused.

  “Where is he?” Arthur asks, my mouth opens soundlessly as I struggle for an answer.

  “He went in there,” says Orrian, pointing towards the tavern doors.

  Arthur turns to Orrian speechless, either shocked at realising he’s here or at the sound of his voice, probably both. Some part of me feels sorry for Arthur, so much has changed for him in the last few minutes that it’s no wonder he’s struggling to process it all. The older man throws his hands up in exasperation and continues past Orrian towards the tavern. I remain close behind him as he pushes open the swinging doors. Alice takes my hand and has to half-jog to keep up.

  It’s only as we enter the room that I realise the eerie silence. There is no chatter, no drunken swigging or pouring of drinks, everyone sits quiet and motionless. They are all facing towards the bar at the rear wall where two men kneel in the centre of the room. Long lost father and son are both on their knees in each other’s arms. Great shudders rack their bodies as Bennie is finally acquainted with his child. Bennie, instantly sobered, continuously pulls away to take Damion by the face, grabbing his cheeks and looking into his eyes as if to ensure that he’s really
here in front of him. My eyes threaten to tear up again and so I ward them off by pulling Alice closer into my side.

  Slowly, almost timidly, the noise around the tavern tables begins to rise again as people turn away from the two on the floor. I don’t recognise many of these people, but I can spot the occasional Avlym villager among the crowd. Bennie and Damion struggle to their feet as they continue their embrace. Next to me, Arthur begins heading towards the pair of them before Orrian stops him.

  “Give them some time,” Orrian says as he places a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. Arthur still looks like he would very much like to interrupt the reunion but nods in acceptance.

  “Follow me,” Arthur says after one last look. He leads the way back out onto the street. Most people have already gone back to their drinks but a few watch us warily as we exit.

  Arthur doesn’t look back as he leads us over the road and past several more decrepit huts. After witnessing the incredible structures and feats of the colony it’s no wonder Becker has always looked down on our village with arrogance. To him we must seem primitive, incomparable next to the might of the colony.

  My mother once told me that she used to know some of the children that would later leave Avlym to become Tarrin’s first community. She was only young at the time, but she can still vaguely remember a couple of her friends leaving with their parents. When I had first come here so many years ago it had still looked new, it had looked much more put together than its considerably older neighbour. Now though, if I was to stare at a single house, it could be in either Tarrin or Avlym, both would be identical. It is incredible how quickly the village has reached the same problems that we have, no doubt they too must have had some tough winters.

  We are led to a large two-story building, it is alone in its height as it rises above its neighbours. A small planked platform juts out in front of the house as the whole structure is raised a single step off the ground, another unique feature. From the platform rise several felled tree logs which support an overhanging room above. For once, a proper door also greets us as Arthur ushers inside, no open frame or curtain. The door looks solid and heavy, there are a couple of cracks in it, but the thing doesn’t look like it’s even begun rotting yet. I wonder if we’re being taken to see Thoren, surely no one else in Tarrin could have such an impressive home.