Into the Wastelands: Book Four of the Restoration Series

by Williams, Christopher

  Agminion reached the end of the alley and peaked around the corner.

  Heather followed him to the edge and she too glanced around the street.

  The sorcerer moved back from the corner and Heather followed.

  “The street’s empty,” Heather said. “What are you waiting for?”

  “The street is not empty. There are guards to the north searching for us,” Agminion answered.

  Looking confused now, Heather said, “I didn’t see anyone. How can you be sure?”

  Agminion didn’t answer right away, but took a deep breath. “I’m quite sure. I sensed them.”

  Heather blinked, having momentarily forgotten the man was a sorcerer. “Okay. So, what do we do?”

  Agminion smiled for the first time in a long while. “I have a plan.” He looked around at the other Guardians. “When I enter the street, I need you to follow me as fast and as quiet as you can. Are you ready?” His eyes lingered on Enton, who had began to struggle a little with Mikela’s limp form, and on Cassandra and Dagan, who were now leaning on each other. It was now impossible to tell if Cassandra leaned on the old man, or if he now leaned on her.

  “Don’t worry about us,” Enton answered. “We’ll be right behind you.”

  Agminion nodded and returned to the alley exit.

  Heather motioned for the other Guardians to follow her, and then she followed the sorcerer to the corner of the alley.

  Agminion glanced around as they approached, putting his finger to his lips. He then turned around and gave an almost indifferent wave of his hand.

  A voice in the street called out, “What was that? Did you hear that?”

  A second voice replied, “Yes. Sounded like footsteps back the other way. Hurry!”

  Agminion waited several moments and then leaned out past the corner of the building. Without a word, he slipped away from the building and ran across the wide street.

  The other Guardians didn’t hesitate but followed immediately. They ran as quietly as possible.

  They ran to the far side of the street and then followed the road south. They hugged the edge of the buildings, trying hard to stay in the shadows. They paused several times and Agminion searched for any guards, either those that were now well behind them or any others that might be searching for them. Each time he breathed easy after a moment and then led them farther along the street.

  Several blocks farther south, Agminion turned into a small alley that led west between two massive storehouses. About halfway down the alley, he stopped beside a door and knocked quietly.

  The door immediately creaked open and an old man’s face peered out. “Bout damn time.” The old man backed out of the way and Agminion moved quickly into the darkness beyond.

  Swallowing hard, Heather led the other Guardians into the darkness.

  They stepped into a dark cavernous room. The pitiful light coming from the open doorway did not reach far into the building. Even though they couldn’t see far into the near total darkness, the room had a feeling of immenseness.

  Aaron was the last one to enter and he pulled the door shut behind him. The last amount of light disappeared.

  They remained quiet. Unconsciously they moved closer together as if they were afraid of getting lost in the darkness.

  After a moment, there came the sound of flint being struck. Moments later, the old man held up a torch that burned brightly and chased the closest shadows away. “This way,” he said simply, and then he turned and walked off.

  Agminion followed the old man, as did the Guardians.

  The storehouse was not empty, not even close. Numerous piles of bags were strewn about. The bags were near to bursting, and in a few places some had burst, showing the grain they contained. There were enormous stacks of boxes and shelves piled high with every imaginable type of good.

  Heather reached out and pulled on Agminion’s arm and somewhat surprised, he slowed his pace. Still Heather waited another moment to let the old man get farther away. “Who is he and can we trust him?”

  Looking slightly irritated, Agminion nodded. “Don’t be foolish, of course you can trust him.”

  “Does he know who we are?” Heather asked, trying to keep her voice low.

  “Of course I know who you are,” the old man called from the front of the small group.

  Heather grimaced. She had thought that she had been quiet enough not to be heard.

  The old man stopped and turned back to face them. “Young lady, my name is Aldric and I handle certain delicate matters for King Stennis. Matters that he wants kept quiet.”

  “Really?” Dagan asked. The old sorcerer looked dead on his feet. “And exactly what are you doing for him now? What is it he wants you to do with us?”

  Aldric looked rather surprised. “I would have thought it obvious. He wants me to help all of you escape from the city.”

  Enton scoffed. “He wants us to escape from the guards and soldiers that he ordered to find us?”

  Agminion stepped forward and addressed Enton, “You already know that the King cannot be seen helping you directly. He has to be careful or Telur will crush Aramonia.” His tone was just slightly bitter, “Perhaps a little gratitude would be in order.”

  It was probably a good thing that Enton still held Mikela. He looked ready to rip Agminion apart. A sudden stillness settled on the group and Aaron turned to face Agminion. Obviously he was ready to back up Enton, whatever foolish thing he might do.

  Heather spoke up before Enton could, “We’ll be grateful when we get out the city.”

  “As to that,” Atock said, interrupting the suddenly tense gathering, “how is it to be accomplished?”

  Heather could have kissed him. His rather pointed question drew everyone’s gaze from the two angry men and turned it to Aldric. After a moment, even Agminion and Enton quit glaring at each other and turned their attention to the little old man.

  Aldric had not moved and he still held the torch up. He turned and pointed to the back corner of the storehouse. “Tomorrow, a wagon caravan will leave this building.” He turned back to the Guardians, “The wagons are already loaded with bags of grain, but you’ll be going along with them.”

  “And how will we be hidden?” Heather asked.

  “I have made arrangements,” Aldric answered. “Eight of the wagons have a hidden compartment. Basically, the floor of the wagon has a small compartment where you will spend the entire day.”

  “If the wagons are already loaded, then how will we get in or out of these compartments?” Aaron asked.

  Aldric sighed. “My friends, I have been doing this for a very long time. Please trust me.” He looked around the small group, “You look like you’re about to fall over. Please, come forward. I have some blankets for you to sleep on, but I will have to wake you in just a few hours.” He turned and started walking, and the others hurriedly started after him. “I’m alone here tonight,” he said as he walked, “but there will be others before the sun rises. Before they get here, you have to be safely stored away in the hidden compartments.”

  “And how do we get out?” Heather asked. “I mean if the wagon floor is buried under bags of grain, then how do we open the trap door.” Her heart was beating rather fast at the thought of riding along with another caravan. The last time they tried this, it hadn’t worked out too well for them.

  “The concealed door is underneath the wagon.” He smiled, noting the nervousness that Heather wasn’t even trying to conceal. “Do not worry. I have used this method to smuggle people out of the city before.”

  Heather nodded, only slightly relieved.

  They arrived at a small office built into one corner of the storehouse. Inside, blankets were stacked haphazardly.

  Aldric stopped outside the door. “Sleep. I will be back to wake you all too soon.”

  True to his word, Aldric seemed to reappear moments after they had lain down. He woke each one of the sleepers with a gentle shake and then moved on.

  Enton, surprised
from his much needed sleep, jumped when he was shook and nearly knocked the little old man over. “Sorry,” he mumbled as Aldric straightened his tunic rather grumpily.

  Aldric sighed and turned his attention to the group. “Hurry. The workers will begin arriving soon.” He led them out of the office and pointed to a door in the nearby wall. “I suggest you try and relieve yourselves; you have a long ride ahead of you. The workers use the alley on the other side of this wall for that very purpose.”

  In the middle of a yawn, Heather shook her head. “Don’t need to.”

  “Once you get in that wagon,” Aldric said slowly and forcefully, “you will not be able to get out again until well past nightfall. There will be no stops to visit the bushes along the road.”

  Atock, looking puzzled, asked, “What do we do if we can’t wait until the caravan stops?”

  Aldric sighed and smiled a less than pleasant grin. “You do what you need to, but you do not open the concealed door.”

  “Uh, perhaps I will visit the alley after all.” Heather said, trying hard not to imagine spending the whole day lying in her own filth. All of the Guardians followed her out the door.

  When they had returned to the storehouse, Aldric quickly led them to the wagons. The wagons were lined up in a single file row right before a massive gate and there were nearly twenty of them. The wagons were already piled with bags of what, according to Aldric, were grain.

  The gate doors would be nearly forty feet wide when they were both opened. They were currently closed, however.

  Aldric knelt down on the stone floor and leaned up underneath the first wagon. He stopped and looked back at those watching him. “Listen to me,” he said, trying hard to emphasize the words. “It’s very important that you do not leave the compartment. The guards and wagon drivers do not know that you’re in here. If they see you, they will turn you over to the soldiers. Is that understood?”

  Getting a sinking feeling in her stomach, Heather nodded along with the others.

  “Now,” Aldric said, pulling a long thin knife from his belt, “there are three latches that hold the door shut. All three are inside the compartment. The only way someone on the outside can open the door is to slide a knife between these two planks and slide it along like this.” He slipped the knife in between two boards and pulled it from one end to the other. A compartment door fell open, revealing a cramped looking niche. It would be big enough to conceal one of them, but barely.

  Heather glanced sideways at Enton. The big man was staring in horror at the cramped little hole. She could imagine how he felt. As bad as it would be for her, it would be a thousand times worse for him.

  “Hurry!” Aldric called from the edge of the wagon.

  Heather looked back and realized he was motioning her in first. She sighed and stepped forward. “Wait,” she said, half under the edge of the wagon. “How will know when to exit the hole?”

  “They will set a guard on the wagons and horses tonight. That guard in one of my men. He does not know who you are, nor does he care. He will allow you to sneak away in the darkness. Do not approach him. The King has offered a rather magnificent price to whoever captures you. I cannot be certain that my man would not raise the alarm if he recognized you.”

  Heather nodded, “Makes sense. So how will I know when to leave the compartment?” She asked the question slowly. She had already asked it once and she did not like having to repeat it.

  “The sorcerer will know when it’s safe to leave the wagons.” He motioned towards Agminion. “He’ll also be able to find each of the wagons that have one of the concealed compartments. He’ll knock quietly and then you can open the door, not before.”

  “Thank you,” Heather said and then she climbed into the small cramped hole. She pulled her small pack in with her, placing it near her feet. It contained several days of provisions and several changes of clothes; all compliments of the king. In addition, her sword was strapped to her belt. It was rather difficult to hold her pack, align her sword, and climb into the small hole, but she managed.

  The old man handed up a small water bottle which surely could not contain more than two or three mouthfuls of water. “Allow yourself one sip when the wagons stop for lunch and another mid-afternoon. No more. Understand? You remember what we talked about, how there are to be no breaks, no chances for you to leave the compartment until nightfall.”

  Heather nodded and Aldric pushed the fake door closed. She quickly found out how to close the three latches.

  It was even tighter than she had imagined. There were only a couple finger widths between her stomach and the wood of the wagon floor just above her. She was lying on her back and she groaned as she realized there wasn’t even enough room for her to roll over.

  She listened to the others moving away and a knot of worry began growing in her belly. She had a sneaking suspicion that this would be one of the longest days of her life.

  Chapter 3

  Heather’s fears were soon realized. The carts left the massive storehouse a little after dawn and it was pure misery. She shivered in the cool morning air, while she listened to the clip-clop of the horses feet and the creaking of the wagon wheels. Every now and then, she heard one of the drivers call out something, either to the horses or to the other drivers.

  She couldn’t see where they were going, couldn’t see anything at all as a matter of fact. The little compartment had no holes with which to see through. Perhaps she could have looked downwards through the cracks in the compartment planks but she had chosen to lie on her back and she couldn’t see the cracks anymore.

  Besides the coolness of the air, another major irritant was the dust that fell continuously through the wagon floor above her head. Her eyes were soon red with irritation and constantly watering. It soon got so bad that she pulled her shirt up to cover her face. This helped keep the dust out of her eyes but she was even more cold as her stomach was now exposed.

  The compartment suddenly fell away below her and Heather’s head rebounded off of the wooden planks just inches above her face. She grunted at the impact and then again when she caught up with the planks beneath her. The wagon had ran into a rut or hole causing her to hit her head against the ceiling followed quickly by landing hard on the floor. She could taste blood and knew she had bitten her tongue.

  She took a deep breath, knowing she had to be more careful. All it would take was one of the drivers or guards to hear her groans and they would all be undone.

  Well, she thought in a rather grumpy mood, what else can go wrong?

  The wagon train was stopped at the city gates and searched. Heather couldn’t see the gates, but judging by the sheer number of voices there had to be a large number of people packed into a very small area. She could only imagine that it was one of the circular courts that lay right before the gates.

  Luckily, merchants typically were quickly searched and allowed to leave. Monarchies knew that the wealthy pay the taxes and if you anger them too much then they might just take up residence somewhere else. While most monarchies do not fear the wealthy, they do respect them, which is more than they do for the poor.

  Heather held her breath as they searched her wagon. She could hear soldiers climbing on the wagon bed and shifting things around. Judging by the noise, quite a few of the grain sacks were removed and then restacked.

  Several more soldiers poked around the bottom of the wagon, and for just a moment, Heather had a most horrifying image. She saw the soldiers finding the trap door and opening it, thereby dumping her into the dust of the city gates. For one awful moment, she pictured herself rolling around in the dirt with her shirt over her face. Gritting her teeth, she forced the thoughts away.

  After what seemed like an eternity, but in reality had only been less than a quarter of an hour, the caravan started moving. They didn’t go far however, before they stopped again.

  For a moment, Heather couldn’t imagine what they were stopping for. She tried to imagine the scene in her mind. It took a
few moments but she realized that the wagons hadn’t gone that far through the gates. They must have stopped to let the others wagons be searched.

  She let out a deep sigh and nearly choked. The dust was still thick in this little compartment and she had the overwhelming urge to cough. The need to cough was nearly unbearable and she so badly wanted to clear her throat, but she absolutely couldn’t. With the wagons stopped like they were, the wagon drivers or guards would surely hear. Or even worse, perhaps one of the soldiers would hear the noise and come to investigate.

  Heather clamped her right hand over her mouth and squeezed her nose. Still holding her nose, and unable to stop herself, she let loose with a cough.

  She held her breath and listened for the alarm. Her heart was beating fast and she thought furiously what to do. Nothing came to mind, but after a moment she realized there hadn’t been any alarm raised, no running footsteps. She allowed herself to breath again, but this time it was through her nose. She would not choke on the dust again.

  It took the city guards nearly three quarters of an hour to search all the wagons and the waiting was horrible. Once the wagon started moving again, things got even worse. The dust continued to fall and Heather kept her head covered with her shirt. The roads inside the city had been smooth and flat compared to the roads on the outside of the city walls. The only good thing was that due to the increased speed of the caravan on these old roads, the carts made an enormous amount of noise that surely would help cover up the groans of the hidden Guardians.

  After a short while, Heather twisted sideways and wedged her arms, the left arm against the ceiling and the right arm against the floor. This had the affect of protecting her head from bouncing off of the hard wooden slats. Plus, with her head turned more towards the floor, less of the dust was able to bother her. Heather was beginning to think that this trip might not be too bad, when the sun began to climb up in the sky and warm things up. Soon, her little hidden compartment was as hot as an oven.