by Andrew Wood
Hope felt her stomach complaining about its lack of food. She realised she had not eaten since the previous morning, and then it had only been a few mouthful's of drugged gruel. Whilst on the boat, she had been dubious of accepting any food, just in case it was poisoned again. At least the weather was fine. She hoped the sun would soon warm her up and dry her clothes, as she rubbed her hands over her cold arms, shivering as she walked.
Walking for another fifteen minutes along the pathway, Hope was just beginning to think it never went anywhere. That thought was soon pushed aside as the first signs of life came into view. It may only have been a few sheep, but at least it was a sign that somebody had a farm nearby. She looked for further tell tale signs and afforded a smile as she glimpsed a thin tendril of smoke rising in the near distance. She picked up the pace a little, but made sure she was careful not to be seen. If this was not Corlan then the people here may not be friendly towards her.
Crouching low behind a hedge, Hope peered over the top at the farm buildings. Mostly made from timber, apart from what she assumed to be the main house. This was made from a dark coloured stone, and through a small window, she could see what appeared to be people inside. Dropping back down behind the hedge, she thought what to do next. Should she stroll up to the door and ask for food and shelter, or should she remain anonymous and steal something to eat, before moving on. "Hello," came a voice from behind her. She froze, so much for plan 'b' she thought.
Standing and turning, she saw the face of a young man. With hair as black as jet, and eyes of blue that sparkled in the morning sunlight, he gave her a smile. "You're not spying on us are you?" he asked in an accent that told her where she was. His words were pronounced, just a little differently than those she was used to. "I must be in Darekia," she mumbled to herself. "Of course you are, where did you think you were?" the man replied.
The two looked each other up and down for a few moments. Hope thought how good looking the young man was, shame he was a Darekian. With a face that pleasing to the eye, it was a shame he also smelled so bad. "My name is Arran," the man said offering a hand in friendship. Hope gave a flicker of a smile and took the offer, letting her hand be enveloped by his. "My name is Hope," she said softly.
Once the introduction was over, the two looked at each other momentarily before Hope asked if the farm was his. "No...Well not yet, it is the family farm. I live here with my mother and father and two sisters." Hope was not sure whether to turn and run or take her chances with this Arran character. With her mind made up, deciding she liked his face and thought it a trustworthy one. "You look very cold Hope. Would you like to come warm yourself by our fire and perhaps have little breakfast?" The mere mention of a possibility of food brought her hunger pains back. She let herself be led across the farmyard toward the house. She noticed a girl of probably ten or eleven years old throwing feed for some chickens. The girl stared at her, so Hope looked away. She did not want to offend anybody.
Through a blue-wash coloured wooden door Arran held out an arm, "Please come in," he said politely. After stepping through the door, she found herself in the kitchen of their home. Those in the room turned and looked at her. A woman was stood by an oven, with the same black hair as Arran. An older man whom Hope assumed was Arran's father was eating at the table. A younger girl, probably only five or six years old was sat beside him. "Mother, Father, this is Hope. I found her outside...sp...Looking lost and cold. I thought perhaps she could have a warm and a little breakfast." Hope realised Arran was going to say spying on them, but for some had changed it mid sentence.
The man spoke, standing up and gesturing for her to take a seat. Arran's mother turned and gave her son a smile, before setting anther place at the table. Hope sat quietly, realising all eyes were on her, speaking only to say 'Thank you' when some eggs and a few rashers of bacon were placed on her plate. "There is plenty of bread and butter," Arran said cutting her a slice off a loaf on the table. Hope nodded her thanks, and started devouring what lay on the plate before her.
Realising the others were still watching her, she slowed down a little. "My, you are a hungry one," said Arran's mother. "Would you like some more?" she asked. Hope looked at her, "If you have it to spare, I would. I have not had a good meal for some time." Arran's father looked at her, "You're not from around here are you?" Hope paused; her fork laden with eggs stopped mid-air. "From your accent I would say you're Corlanian. Am I right?" Hope grimaced, and nodded. Did this mean they would turn her over to the authorities? If they did, the Darekian government would be expected to see her safely returned. However, was Dalia, her captor now in control? So many questions and none of which she had answers too.
Hope nodded; deciding telling the truth would be the best option. Arran looked at her, "How did you end up here in Darekia? You are a long way from home Hope," he said. Continuing her policy of telling the truth, she told them that she had been captured. Although, she omitted the part about any magic being involved. What she told them was correct, just not all the details.
What she also kept from them, was the fact she was a niece, although only through adoption, of the King of Corlan. "Well she is welcome to stay here if she likes isn't she father?" Arran asked. His father nodded, "Of course. I have no quarrel with the common folk of Corlan. They are the same as us in many respects. It's the elite classes I don't have time for." Hoped gulped, glad she had left out the part of her royal connections. "Thank you," she said politely, "You are all very kind," she added trying to change her voice slightly in a vain attempt at sounding like a commoner.
Once the meal was finished, Hope helped Arran's mother wash and clear away the dishes. Once that was done, there was bread to make, floors to scrub as well as a list of other chores Hope was not used to doing. Despite not actually being asked to do any of the work, she felt her helping would in some way be payment for the food and shelter they were providing. Arran's mother seemed a nice person, and as the two of them kneaded the dough for the bread, they chatted about their lives.
Hope learned that the farm had been in the family for some years. She was actually quite surprised when the woman told her of their past. Under the previous regime, that of Lord Fenlor, her brothers had been soldiers; all of whom had perished in the war with Corlan. "Don't worry dear," she said in a reassuring voice, "It is in the past. I do not blame anybody. War is a terrible business, and unfortunately it is always the little people like us that suffer greatest."
Hope felt the need to say something in her father's defence. This woman was moaning about sacrifice by the lower classes. Her father had willingly walked to his death to save an entire nation. Fortunately, Arran, returning from his chores in the yard interrupted her chain of thought. "I have done the stable Mother. I thought perhaps I could show Hope around the farm?" His mother looked at Hope and then back at her son. "Of course dear," she said, "I will finish this off if you like," she added turning to hope and referring to the bread making. In all honesty, Hope did not think she was even any good at it, and the thought of taking a walk with Arran seemed a nice one.
After reassuring his mother they would not wander too far, and be back in time for lunch, he and Hope left the house and headed down the track away from the buildings. Arran held out an arm in a very gentlemanly way, and Hope smiled linking her arm with his. "I did not think farmers always behaved like gentlemen," she said sardonically. Arran looked at her, "Just because we are only farmers, does not make us people without morals or manners," he replied. Hope realised she had offended him a little and apologised for being so insensitive.
A short walk from the farm, Arran explained the layout of the land they farmed. Sheep were in one field, a few cattle in another. She learned they also had pigs, chickens and even a few goats. "That lot must keep you all very busy," Hope said, trying to think of a reply. Arran stopped and turned to face her. She looked at his face, and aside from the little dirt from his mornings work, it was a clean one. His piercing blue eyes looked into hers, "You are very pretty
," he said. Hope blushed at the compliment. "Thank you Arran, you are very kind to think so," she replied. Here was a young man she had only just met, a Darekian at that, and for some reason she liked him. Pity he was only a farmer, she thought, thinking of what she would like to do to him.
"You are not like other girls I know," Arran said as they continued their walk. His arm still interlocked with hers. Even his smell seemed to have gotten better, probably she thought because she was now used to it. Come to think it, did she smell any better? After all, she had neither bathed nor washed in days. Her swim in the sea was as near to any water as she had come. "Are you from a wealthy family Hope," he asked stopping once more. Hope felt herself stiffen, it was clear Arran's family were not keen on the nobility of any nation, let alone one that had caused them so much grief.
After looking into Arran's eye's she decided to tell him the truth. He may only be a farm boy, a good-looking one it had to be said, but she could not deceive him. "Is it that obvious?" she said as he nodded to the affirmative. "You think your parents know as well?" she added thinking she may have to make a run for it after all. "I would imagine so, I think even my little sister has more idea of making bread than you," he chuckled. Hope was a little confused, they had treated her so well, yet had made it clear they had no like of the upper classes. Noticing her puzzled look, Arran explained, "I invited you in as a guest Hope. Of noble birth or not, we would treat both as equal. I doubt though your family would do the same." Hope nodded, what Arran said was probably true. If he were in her situation, would she have invited him in and have him treated as an equal?
Hope sighed, and felt Arran's hands take hold of hers. "I am not of noble birth," she said, watching his reaction. "However, I was adopted by those that were, when my birth parents were killed by Darekian invaders." She could tell the words had surprised Arran. "I am sorry. I should not have pushed you for the truth. It must pain you to speak of such a thing." Hope shook her head, explaining she had been just a baby when it had happened. "I have always thought my adoptive parents as my true ones." If Arran was shocked by her previous statement, his face became a picture when she told him just who her parents were. "My first adoptive father was Prince Luken...I don't know how much you know of him in Darekia."
Arran looked at her, "So your uncle is the King?" he said working out her lineage. Hope gave a wry smile, "Technically speaking yes," she said. "I am not sure what to say," Arran said quickly letting go of her hand. "In fact I am not sure what to do...should I be bowing to you and calling you highness or something?" Hope laughed, "No, please don't. Are you going to hand me over to the authorities?" Arran scratched his head, and ran his fingers through his thick black hair. Hope could tell by Arran's mood that he was not so sure of her anymore. "I think my mother would see you taken to the local government offices for return. In fact, I am surprised you did not seek them out yourself, after all they would not see any harm come to you."
Hope told him her reasons. Firstly, she did not even know where she was, and then there was the fact she could not prove who she was; even if she found a government office she doubted they would believe her claim. She then added her greatest fear. If Dalia was running amok the Isle of Kelan with troops, who really was in control in Darekia? After all, whilst held captive she had overheard Dalia talking of camps training more soldiers. The question was simple; did Arran and his family support Dalia or the government leaders? On the other hand, perhaps those same leaders were even under her control.
The answer came, as he told her he had heard stories of youths being taken away against their will. "It is said there are several camps in the western hills. Although I have no support for them, neither do I for the government." Arran explained his reasoning. Those who were running the country were nothing more than puppets to the rulers of Besemia and Corlan. Punishment for a war that had taken place when he had been just a small child. Taxes were high because the Darekian government were still paying the victors compensation for that war.
Hope was amazed at just how much Arran knew. Considering he was no more than a farm hand, he was certainly aware of just how the government system worked. It was true, that Darekia was still paying for the war, and something she thought was unfair. Why should people like Arran be made to pay for something he had not part in. She then realised it was probably one of the main reasons he did not care greatly for those in power. "Does this mean I am no longer welcome Arran?"
The young man looked closely at her, and she did likewise at him. She could feel the warmth of his breath on her face, and she knew what she wanted him to do. He did not disappoint, as he leaned forward just a little and kissed her gently on the cheek. She would have preferred it on the lips, but then again she had only just met him. "Sorry," he said realising the liberty he had just taken. Hope smiled, and took his hand in hers. "Don't be," she smiled. She told him of her plans, and he listened intently as they walked.
On returning to the farm, Arran stopped once more. "I would like to help you get back home Hope." She was not sure what to say. She supposed she should be grateful, but if Arran travelled with her, it would mean leaving his home and family for a long time. She said nothing, but merely leaned up a little and pecked him on his cheek. She hoped that small kiss said more than mere words.
Once back inside the house, Hope was glad to see lunch was already on the table awaiting her. There was a little fruit and cheese, but the smell of freshly baked bread rolls almost made her salivate. "Did you two have a pleasant walk?" Arran's mother asked. Hope looked at Arran; would he tell his mother who she really was? "Yes thank you mother," he replied with a smile. Once his father and sisters were all seated, they started eating. Hope went straight for the fresh bread, picking up a roll and inhaling the gorgeous smell before tearing it apart.
They had been eating barely a couple of minutes when Arran decided to stand and make his declaration. "I want to help Hope return to her family in Corlan," he said. His father looked up at him, then at Hope before looking to his wife. Hope noticed she gave a small nod his direction. "Very well son," the man said cutting himself a piece of cheese. "You are old enough to make such decisions and that if that is what you want then I wish you well." Hope was surprised at how unconcerned Arran's parents appeared to be at his announcement. If she had not known any better, she thought they almost seemed to be encouraging it.
With the meal over, Hope once more went to help with the dishes; this time however, her offer was rebuked. Not sure why, she turned to see Arran gesturing her to another doorway. "Come on, I need to pack some things. We can leave first thing in the morning," he said waving her towards him. Hope smiled; pleasantly surprised they were getting ready to leave so soon.
Arran led her up a narrow wooden stairway and across a short landing area. Through another plain wooden door and she found herself stood in his bedroom. She looked around the room. It was certainly a simple affair. A single bed, which was neatly made up with a small table at the side, on which sat a candle in a holder. Along one wall was a small window, and a small fireplace along another. The only other item of furniture was a set of simple drawers, which she assumed contained Arran's clothes. She suddenly realised just how different their two upbringings had been. Hope's possessions would have filled Arran's small room ten times over. She felt a warm hand grasp hers, "It is not much," he said seemingly knowing what she was thinking, "But it is more than some have."
Packing did not take long. Arran's father gave them a backpack, in which the young man put a few spare clothes. His mother joined them in the small room, making it look overcrowded, and handed them several items, including a small pan for boiling water, two metal dishes, two metal cups and a few items of cutlery. Hope thought it was a good job that she was not packing; she would not have thought of taking any of those things. His mother had found a few old clothes, which she offered to Hope. They were ghastly looking items, but gratefully accepted none the less, although Hope was quite comfortable in the old shirt Arran had loaned her on
arrival.
After returning downstairs, she found herself holding Arran's hand without even realising she was doing so. She blushed when she noticed his mother looking at her, and quickly pulled it away. Arran turned to her clearly disappointed she had done so. Things were moving along so fast, Hope was not sure what she was doing. One thing was for certain, she did not want to hurt Arran, and so replaced her hand back in his. His mother put together a few pieces of meat, cheese and some bread in a bundle, as well as a few apples. "We will have to hunt along the way; I have a bow and quiver with arrows and a good hunting knife," Arran said turning to face her once more. "Do you have a spare bow for me to use?" she asked knowing the trip home could likely be a perilous one. There were still bands of thieves and robbers that hunted on the vulnerable in Corlan. The problem in Darekia would likely be far worse.
Chapter 14.
Luca yawned, stretching his arms upwards. It had been a night of little sleep and they had needed to make an early start. Oliver as usual was by his side, as they both stood on the deck of the river barge carrying them upriver. Taylor and Darak were busy chatting to some of the men that travelled with them, as they checked their packed gear.
After the events of the previous day, Luca was actually glad to have a little quiet time. The boat moving slowly along the wide River Fivan and the scenic views that came with it were a relaxing change. With him receiving that anonymous letter, and all the troubles he had been having with Darak over Oliver, he felt quite drained. He had barely given the actual purpose of their trip much thought; such were the overwhelming circumstances of other matters. How was his sister? The thoughts she may not even be alive had crossed his mind, but he kept convincing himself that was not the case.
