by Kai Widdeson
The discussions have been going on for a couple of hours already. A couple of rules have been laid down such as no hurting innocent civilians or accepting a surrender, but as soon as we started talking actual tactics, chaos had erupted.
Swords and spears clash outside. Whilst the villagers were fit and capable, many of them have no idea how to use a weapon outside hunting. Orrian therefore volunteered Jaq and Damaris’ services to help train them. Even from Thoren’s council room, a fair walk from the lake’s edge, the collisions of combat reach through our walls.
Almost every living soul remaining in Tarrin has joined the training session. I had watched them from the edge of the huts as they had approached in the first light of dawn, unaware of the gruelling session that the tribe’s head guard was about to put them through. Even Rhys had turned up to train, quickly becoming short of breath as they started with a run around the lake’s perimeter. I was pleased to see that Robyn had been one of the front runners.
I can just about make the pair of them out from the second story window I stand at. The new fighters have all been separated into their various disciplines. Jaq strides up and down the ranks of spearmen, teaching them various thrusts and parries and kicking their legs out from underneath them when their stance is too unstable. I watch as he swipes the legs out from an unnaturally round man that can only be Rhys. To his credit, he immediately hops straight back onto his feet and corrects his positioning.
Damaris has taken those with hunting knives and she forces them to roll and slash with stout branch ends before they begin using their real blades. The village people duck and dart as fast as they can but still, she easily dances around them, slashing at them with her imaginary blade to demonstrate how many times they would have died by now.
Robyn stands off to one side in a line of archers, I cannot help but stare at her for slightly too long as she notches and looses a quiver full of arrows. She is only a miniscule figure from this far away, but I could recognise her from any distance. Unlike some of her peers, each of Robyn’s movements flow gracefully into the next. I note how each fluid motion has a purpose and a certainty about it, the intense demands of the last few weeks seem to have already given her years’ worth of experience.
A familiar limping figure makes his way around the various groups shouting instructions, Randall had been adamant that he would not miss out on the fighting and had remained true to his word. Ryfon walks with him, handing out waterskins as they go. With Ida and the others at the mountain, he’s the last real medic we have left. Once he’s finished, he’ll return to the weapons stockpile, carefully coating each blade with some of the forest’s poison. He has already thinly scratched faint runes into each of the spears and bows.
As I had approached the meeting room, I had forced myself to look down upon the pile of weapons. I need to get over the mistake that claimed my father. At my feet was a stockpile of spears identical to the one that had taken my life. Our people are joined now, I need to force my personal quarrels aside. It was in that moment that I finally released the last of the grudge I have against the tribe. I forgive Orrian and his people, they are just more victims of the same enemy. As I had carried on down the road, I had left the last of my anger behind me.
“It needs to be him,” Thoren declares, bringing me back into the room. The warrior is nodding in Orrian’s direction. “We use him as bait.”
Orrian takes a moment, clearly unhappy with the prospect of this group of powerful strangers handing him back over to the enemy.
“I’ll do what I have to,” Orrian says through tight lips.
“Will it work?” a leader asks.
“We still have some colony armour, we could use that?” I say.
“I’m not sure, they might be expecting us to use the same trick again,” says Orrian.
“Say we somehow manage to get inside, what then?” says a man whose name I don’t know.
“We need to free my people. Each one of them is worth three of the colony’s men,” Orrian says with confidence. Some of the others might have once doubted him but all it would take is a quick look at Jaq and Damaris from my window and their apprehension would be put to rest. Or of course they could challenge the king himself, a considerably more painful approach but one with the same conclusion.
“King Breyden is the target. We get to him and we stop the war,” says Thoren. He may normally keep silent whilst his counsellors go about the daily running of Tarrin, but fighting is something he knows. Now that most of his advisors have left for the mountain, he’s refusing to let anyone else do the speaking for him.
“Even if we push them all the way back to the inner gates, from the sounds of this drawbridge we haven’t a hope of overrunning the inner city,” says Arthur.
“We don’t need everyone,” says Orrian. I am still impressed how he can speak so calmly and yet command everyone’s attention without the need to raise his voice. “We only need a small group of us whilst the rest distract their army.”
“How many and who would go?” the leader of Willsden asks.
“I will go. Dale too. This war was started against my people and we will be the ones to end it. We’ve also seen what the inside of the inner castle is like, we stand a better chance at finding our way around. Once we’re in, we’ll be able to get to the dungeons. From there, all my people will be free and within their walls. We’ll have the element of surprise as we unleash the remainder of my tribe directly beneath their feet,” says Orrian. This is the most he’s said so far this morning, he’s been biding his time and listening to the others whilst this plan must have been brewing.
“We need Damion with us as well,” I say, interrupting the leaders for only the second time. “He knows his way around the colony better than any of us. If anyone can get us in, he can.”
A murmur of agreement finally travels around the room. This might actually work. Someone passes Orrian some paper and a quill so that he can begin drawing up our plans.
“Do you think he’ll agree to go back?” Arthur turns in his chair to ask me quietly.
“He has to, we need him,” I answer.
“Go then,” says Arthur.
I skirt around the edge of the room as stealthily as one can, given how overcrowded it is. As I close the meeting room door behind me, I wonder if it would have been better to get Arthur to talk to Damion, given mine and his last conversation. It’s too late now, and so, swallowing the nervous anticipation awaking inside of me, I set off in search of the former slave.
“No absolutely not, he can’t go back there,” Bennie argues. For once I hadn’t found him in the tavern. Instead, they sit together atop a mound at the edge of the fields.
Damion says nothing but his knee begins to vibrate violently beneath his elbows.
“I’m sorry, but we need him. He’s the only one who can lead us to Breyden,” I urge. “Do you understand what I’m saying? We won’t be able to stop this war without him.”
“He can’t,” Bennie pleads. “He’s been through too much, there must be some other way.”
“Dad,” Damion whispers. “I have to.”
“You don’t have to, they can think of something else. Son, you’ve done your part.”
“They’ve been in that room for hours. I’m not sure if there are any other options,” I say.
Damion places a hand on his father’s shoulder.
“It’s ok, this is what I’m here for. They took everything from us, this is our chance. Let me do this for Mum,” Damion says, his voice wobbles but there’s a resolve in his eyes.
“He’ll be part of a small group of us, away from the rest of the fighting,” I assure. “He’s going to have King Orrian and the others with him, it may even be the safest place for him to be.”
“The safest place would be with the others in that darn mountain you talked about,” Bennie counters.
“No. I have friends back there, Dad. Children who were just like me,” says Damion. “This way I can get to them, this is ho
w I fight back.”
Something visibly breaks inside Bennie as he nods dumbly.
“Will he be alright? Will you?” I ask Damion as we walk back towards the council room. Bennie had asked to be left alone for a little while before assuring me that he would join the others by the lake in a bit.
“He’ll be fine, but he really wanted to take me away to the mountain. This is what I signed up for, the more I can do to hurt the colony the better,” says Damion bitterly.
“Good” I reply. “I’m sorry by the way, about Avlym. I wanted to tell you but-”
“It’s ok,” Damion interrupts. “You said what you had to. If it wasn’t for you, I’d still be in that place. I guess I’m now doubly in your debt.”
“Doubly?” I ask, confused. Being thanked was certainly not how I’d pictured this apology going.
“My father told me about what you and everyone else have done for him over these last few years. I won’t forget that.”
I can do little else but nod speechlessly. The boy next to me is damaged, it’s likely that we all are, but him maybe more than most. Yet somehow, after every wrong hand that fate has dealt him, he still has the courage to fight for his people. Who would have thought all those years ago, that I would eventually come to admire one of my bullies?
We head back towards Thoren’s house in a comfortable silence. Two very different boys brought together through pain and war, but it’s finally time to have our revenge against those who have wronged us. There’s no time to pause and watch those training, or stop and replenish our raging stomachs, there’s work to be done.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Randall and Robyn walk alongside me through the trees, we should be getting close now. The villagers all swarm around us in their roughly organised groups. The leaders have decided to keep us off the main roads, it has added a little extra time to our journey, but we need the element of surprise if this is going to work. No one’s complained at the extra time taken to travel this far. Anxiety has begun to spread among the ranks like an infectious disease now that we are near.
Unfortunately, we require bringing a couple of carts with us, they’ve been filled as high as possible with the largest rocks and boulders we could find. They tumble away in the distance manned only by those tending to the horses, if they encounter anyone, they should be able to pass off as stonemasons.
Randall has finally shaken off his limp, managing a slight jog the morning before we left Tarrin. I had tried to dissuade him from joining us, but he was having none of it, we’ll just have to hope that his leg holds up once the action begins.
Damion and Horas walk next to us. Apart from Robyn, this will be the group that accompanies Orrian into the inner limits. As soon as the group had been suggested there had been unease among Thoren and the other leaders. We are all solely from Avlym or from the tribe and the entire mission will be in our hands, if we fail to reach the inner limits then we may as well hand ourselves over. The other leaders had wanted their own hunters to join us, thankfully Orrian and Arthur had managed to convince them that the group would be too large as they all started suggesting various names. There will only be the five of us so we should be able to move more freely with less chance of being noticed.
Orrian walks up front with Thoren, occasionally dropping back to check in on us. He says that we should be stopping soon until the morning, the colony should now only be an hour’s walk away.
Nobody sleeps that night. We close our eyes in hope that maybe we will silently slip away, but it never comes. Members of all villages bond as they try and fight away the nerves. They talk in hushed voices about anything that will take their mind off the coming morning. Those that lay their heads in solitude often have their eyes open as they come to terms with their inner selves. Their bodies shake violently, but it has nothing to do with the chill of the wind.
Robyn goes to sleep early. I had spent the last few hours rubbing shoulders with her as we walked and wondering if now should be the time I tell her everything. Tomorrow might be our last day, what if I never get another chance? But no. I know I can’t tell her, especially not now. I couldn’t cause such a huge distraction at such a critical time. She lays curled up on her side, a thin spare layer draped over her frame. Her eyes flutter regularly, and she repositions often, I can tell she’s having as much sleeping as the rest of us.
I spend my last few hours of peace with Randall, the man who had trained me to defend myself against bullying, now sitting beside me as we prepare for war.
Finally, just as the sky begins to lighten ever so slightly, I disappear into blissful oblivion.
CHAPTER THIRTY
We crouch in the bushes; the wall stands some distance before us. A sword is in my hand and several knives around my waist. We’ve all been equipped with several weapons to distribute to the tribe once we get to the dungeon. All of the villagers hide in the undergrowth, terrified of moving in case they should give away our position to the watchful colony guards posted on top of the wall. We had tenderly edged our way into our positions almost one at a time until the entire army sits as it is, ready and waiting.
A single leaf floats down onto my shoulder, I look up to find Robyn above me. She perches on the inside of a high branch, mimicking the other archers around her. Off to her side, Devin also sits waiting, an arrow already next to his slack bow string in anticipation. Robyn’s bow is slung across her back as she settles. From here, the two of them should have a clear shot once the attack begins. As Robyn looks down and sends me a slight smile, I try to steel myself and smile reassuringly back, but I know she can see right through me.
My knees burn as we wait, people around me are starting to shift dangerously. If any of us give away our position, the colony will refuse to raise the gates and will meet us with force. Our small group are all near the front of the others, the main road leading to the gate is only a few dozen steps to my side.
Finally, footsteps begin behind me. They are too loud and too many to belong to people who are hiding. There is a confidence behind them, a daringness. They are accompanied by the rough tumbling of wheels against the stones and the trots of horses.
I watch as Orrian is pulled past my position, he sits at the back of a filled cart, the first of two. He knows we all lay in wait but resists the urge to look down as he passes. He has been deliberately rolled in dirt and allowed some of his scabs to reopen. His hands have the appearance of being bound in rope, although like the ones connecting him to the cart with a slight pull they will fall loose.
He is flanked on all sides by a dozen members of the same village, with any luck it should look like one of the villages has honoured King Breyden’s letters. It’s a bold move, not only are we risking Orrian but also a dozen of our number. Shouts start up and down the wall before the lead villager even opens his mouth.
“We have brought you Orrian, the pretender, as requested by his majesty King Breyden the second,” the leader calls.
A couple of the soldiers disappear inside, even from here I can hear their alerts to the others in the guard tower. Orrian is left standing among his supposed captors whilst many of the guards abandon their posts.
The familiar screeches of chains fill the air as the iron gate begins to rise, behind them the heavy wooden doors creak open. I tense, the time is close, there will be no signal other than the few men in front of me abandoning their positions. There will be no horn, no war cry, we will swarm the gate silently, they will have no warning.
The carts continue forwards as the spikes emerge from the ground. It wasn’t so long ago that we were crawling out from beneath them in desperation, now I hide in the shadows waiting to charge back in. The metal gate disappears into the ceiling and eventually comes to a stop. Through the entrance I can make out a large group of guards clustering inside the courtyard.
The carts move beneath the gate, as expected the first of the soldiers are already rushing out to take Orrian captive. The villagers on top of the carts force their wagons to c
ome to a stop, directly beneath the spikes above.
The man in front of me rises and runs out into the open, the first line of villagers is heading for the open gate. I join the charge, an arrow flies overhead so close to my shoulder that it must surely have come from Robyn. I am not worried. She won’t hit me. Her arrows continue to fly above, joining the whistling waves that cut through the air from the other dozens of archers hidden in the treetops.
The first of the arrows have thudded into their targets by the time we are noticed, by which time, we’re unmissable. The first of us are only a couple of steps from the soldiers who had left the colony to admit Orrian. Villagers sprint around me on all sides, Randall manages to keep stride off to my right. Now we scream, our battle cries echo through the mob. We are an unstoppable herd, a horde of the wronged coming to deliver their justice.
The outermost soldiers turn to face our army as more of us continue to emerge from the trees. Orrian leaps down from the cart, easily shrugging off the slip knots. His group of villagers reveal their hidden knives as they launch themselves at the party waiting to greet us.
Orrian himself holds a forearm length hunting knife in each hand, as I run, I watch him spinning and twisting through the soldiers. They fall to the ground in his path, I watch as he lunges inside one of the soldier’s grips and uses the throwing manoeuvre he taught me. The man flies over his shoulder and is at his mercy as one of Orrian’s blades finds the crevice in his neck.
Thoren comes thundering out of nowhere, easily overtaking me as we travel the last few steps to the wall. His bellows join our cries as he charges into a group of three soldiers, sending them sprawling to the ground as he swings his sword over his head. I follow with Randall in the path that he’s cleared, my eyes widening as the giant’s bare fist hooks around the side of a soldier’s helmet. The fist wins and the man crumples to the ground.
