by Andrew Wood
Chapter 20.
The mood aboard the ship was a sombre one, despite it being overcrowded with the stranded soldiers and sailors. Luca thought, that it appeared to be the only good that had come from this entire trip. They had not managed to rescue his sister, nor now did they have any real idea where she was. The usually good relationship he had with his stepfather was at an all time low. However at least they appeared to be able to talk to each other without any more arguments or fights. It was clear Darak still had problems with Oliver; although it was also clear that he was at least trying to get along.
Luca wanted this trip over and just longed to be home. Hence, he was impatiently waiting for the Captain to steer them to open waters so he could assist in the ships speed. Darak had originally tried telling him he was not to use the magic again, but had backed down when he realised that Luca was adamant. As usual, the young Darekian Oliver stood just off to Luca's side. The dark hair contrasting with the young man's sparkling green eyes; the result of Luca trying to remove a compulsion spell, which resulted in replacing it with a similar one of his own.
Darak, despite all his efforts, still appeared to be struggling to cope with everything that had been going on. Not only was his daughter missing, but he felt he had all but lost his son as well. Luca knew that his stepfather would be troubled further, the nearer they got to returning home. Darak had promised his wife he would return with all family members, that was clearly one, which he had not been able to keep. Nobody now knew where Hope was, or even if she was still alive. All they knew was that if she was, she was probably either on her way or already in Darekia.
To add to all their troubles, none of them knew what the current state of affairs were, regarding the warning they had received about a new threat from the south. King Caldar had sent a large contingent of troops in that direction to help the Murati just in case the threat materialised. Although the last war had been over before Luca was born, he was very aware of the destruction it had caused. Entire villages in Corlan still lay completely empty too this day. The entire population killed or fled and never returned. Of course, there had been several new, more modern towns rebuilt since; the capital New Easton was a prime example of just that.
Luca stared vacantly out to the open sea, feeling in a very pensive mood. The cool sea breeze blowing into his face and the smell of the salt water always reminded him of happier times as a youngster. Usually in the summer times, the whole family, including his cousins had taken a vacation near the coast. They had stayed in a large house, which overlooked the soft sandy beach just north of the Murati border. Taylor, Hope, his cousins and himself used to spend hours just running along it, dodging the waves as they crept up the sand.
His reminiscent thoughts soon changed to much more recent events. It had once more occurred to him, that during the last war his father had been the pivotal figure in winning. In fact, he was quite well aware that the man had not just been the reason for winning, but the reason the entire nation had not been overrun. He found it funny in a strange kind of way, how strange fate was. After all, he would not even have been born, but not for the war. It dawned upon him that if another war broke out, all his mothers fears would be coming true. This time it would have to be he that would have to step forward and help defend the nation. Although quite how he could defend against any threat from the north and south, he was not sure. He was not even certain he could bring himself to kill another man.
His thinking was over, as he felt Oliver place a hand on his shoulder. "Luca Sir, the Captain has said it is all right for you to assist." Luca turned and smiled at his friend, "Thank you Oliver, let us get this ship moving," he replied heading for the centre of the deck.
In Darekia, Hope and Arran continued their journey toward the Ulga Mountains and the pass that crossed over them. Other than the slight scare with the wolf, their trip had been uneventful. The nights had been cold, but Arran had tried to make her as comfortable and warm as possible. The supplies they had carried with them were now all but used up, and Arran had shown his skills at hunting. That evening they would feed on the rabbit he had caught earlier in the day.
For now, Hope had to keep her weary body pushing on for a few more hours. She had suggested they take a break, but Arran was a hard taskmaster and kept her going. He kept reminding her that the further she travelled each day, the sooner she would get home. It was this thought that kept the tired limbs moving, and despite her moaning constantly at Arran for not letting her rest, he knew she did not mean it.
For an area with so few towns and villages, they had seen a surprising amount of people. Always the curious one Hope had managed to persuade Arran to stop by at the next village. It was not particularly very large nor on the surface, did there appear anything strange about it. On the small track leading into the village, they had however seen two soldiers. At first glance, they had assumed, perhaps it was two young recruits returning home on leave. Only when Hope had seen the tabard did she realise to whom the soldiers belonged. She had seen those same colours just a week earlier, when she had been held captive. "Those are Dalia's men", she whispered over to Arran.
Despite his concerns, and suggestion they should perhaps turn to avoid the village, Hope, as usual was not letting in. Arran had suggested she hold his arm, and give the impression they were a couple just passing through. Hope pretended she did not want too, but deep down felt a small excitement at doing so.
The village was mainly made up of timber-framed buildings, though there was a small stone church at one end. It was here that a small group was gathering around a man stood up on a wooden box. Hope wanted them to wait, so she could listen to what was going to be said, and reluctantly, Arran once more gave in to her demands. They stood to the back of the small gathering waiting for the middle-aged man to speak. Arran spotted another of the soldiers wearing the same colours they had spotted earlier. The man was just stood out of sight, but close enough to be on hand should he be called upon.
They watched as the man looked at the small group before him, including Hope and Arran. "People of Darekia," he shouted raising his arms upwards. The small crowd hushed as he spoke. The man spoke of national pride, and how that the poor people of this once proud nation, were being subjugated. "We barely have enough money to feed our families. Our children go hungry...Why?" he shouted and then pausing, waiting for the group to reply. "'Cos we are paying so much in taxes", shouted a man across the other side of the group. Hope was not sure whether that man was part of the act or not, but the words certainly touched on the crowd.
Hope knew that she and Arran probably should slip away, but she wanted to hear what else the man had to say. He referred to Corlan and Besemia as 'Oppressors', both guilty of bleeding Darekia dry of its wealth. How the leaders lived in luxury whilst those hard working folk from Darekia were paying for it. Hope knew it was actually true, that Darekia was still paying Corlan and Besemia compensation for the war. What she did not know was exactly how much that consisted of. From what she had seen of Darekia, it appeared to have little or no more poverty than Corlan. She had never been to Besemia, so could not compare it with there.
Hope could sense the small crowd getting excitable, and it was not long before the orator had them all cheering. It was only then that he explained of a new leader coming to the fore. "I have heard today that The Lady Dalia has returned to these shores. She is going to take back our proud nation. No longer will our neighbours take our hard-earned silver and gold." The man waited for the crowd to react to each sentence before speaking the next. "Now who will take a drink from me? Let us toast us the Lady Dalia and her forthcoming leadership." The man nodded in the direction of the soldier that had been stood off to one side. The soldier carried a bottle of what looked like wine. The speaker picked up several simple cups, "Come on gather round for a drink," he shouted at the waiting crowd.
Arran stepped forward with the others. "No harm in getting a free drink", he said feeling the need to explain his actions to Hope. At
first she just shrugged, no harm in anyone having a free drink she thought; she was even considering having one herself. Only there were alarm bells ringing in Hope's head. She quickly stepped after Arran grabbing his arm. He turned to see who was tugging his sleeve, "Do not drink the wine", she said in a hoarse sounding whisper. He went to ask why, but noticed by the look on her face she was in a serious mood.
He nodded to her, as if to say okay but I want an explanation later. Only they did not get more than a couple of yards before they found one of the soldiers they had seen walking about earlier, barring their way. Arran looked up at the taller man, though there was probably little difference in age between them. "Excuse us," Arran said stepping to the side. The soldier placed an outstretched arm, "It is rude to refuse a drink when it's offered." Hope butted in, "Just as it is rude for a lummox such as you to stand in our way."
The little altercation drew the attention of the man who had been speaking to the crowd. "What appears to be the problem?" he asked stepping over to them. "This pair did not want to take you up on your generous offer," the soldier said. The speaker placed a hand up to his chin, before inspecting both Hope and Arran more closely. Hope moved her head back as he starred at her from such close range she could smell his foul breath. "Is my wine not good enough for you?" he asked in a much softer voice than he had used for his rallying speech. Arran looked to Hope for an answer, and she duly obliged. "Look Sir, I am sure your wine is a fine drink. Only my boyfriend here promised me he would stay off the drink", she said making a drinking motion with her hand.
The speaker nodded, and at first, Hope thought the man had bought her story. He went to turn away, but moved his head back sharply. "Now that is interesting...Would that be a Corlanian accent I detect there my dear." Hope shook her head, "No don't be silly," she replied trying a rather pathetic attempt at a Darekian one. She knew neither the speaker nor the soldier was going to let them go without some sort of trouble. Whether that trouble would turn out to be something as minor as a bit name calling, or something more serious, Hope was not going to stand around to find out.
As soon as she thought the speaker had diverted attention away from her for a second, she made her move. "Run," she blurted to Arran a she darted past the unready soldier. Fortunately, Arran was thinking a similar thing, and was already up alongside her as they ducked between two houses. Although they could hear raised voices from behind, they did not turn back to check if they were being chased. They were soon away from the houses that made up the small village and onto the track that led them away from it. Arran looked over at Hope, and despite blowing hard managed a laugh. After glancing back several times, Hope's aching legs had all but given up, and she had no alternative but to stop. Bent down with her hands on her knees and gasping for breath she was relieved to hear Arran confirm they were not being chased anymore.
After allowing Hope a minute or two to catch her breath back, Arran did however insist they keep moving as soon as they could. He was all too aware that perhaps they might not have given up the chase as easily as he had thought. He was taking no chances as he guided Hope to her feet and off the main track, suggesting they should keep away from it, for a while at least.
After much moaning and complaining she needed a break, Arran finally agreed to stop and make camp for the evening. They had moved on several miles since the incident in the village, though they had seen a number of small groups heading along the roads. It was still light as the pair sat beside the small fire they had made. The rabbit that Arran had caught had been skinned, and was now cooking above the flames. Hope had naturally declined the offer of skinning the animal, nor had she even wanted to watch, much to Arran's amusement.
Once the two had settled down, Arran decided to question Hope as to the reasons why she had stopped him drinking the wine, at the village. She explained her theory of it being drugged. "Believe me Arran; I have seen what this woman is capable of. She has people behaving like mindless drones, running around doing her bidding." The young Darekian just stared at her grinning inanely whilst she spoke. "Okay what is it? You've obviously found something I said or done very amusing," she said not sure what was so funny.
Arran moved a little closer to her, "Well if I heard correctly," he said nudging her arm. "In the village earlier, you referred to me as your boyfriend...does this mean..." Hope sighed and playfully slapped him, cursing that all men were the same, with only one thing on their minds. Arran just looked at her with his big brown eyes, looking like a poor helpless puppy, which only succeeded in earning him a further playful slap.
The light of day was fading away by the time their food was cooked. Hope was absolutely famished, and had no qualms about eating the food with her fingers. This was something she would certainly not have done just a few weeks earlier. "If we make good progress tomorrow we might reach the foothills by evening," Arran said between bites. Hope looked over at her travelling companion, and then at his half of the rabbit he was eating. As much as she would have loved to eat his share as well, she thought it only fair to let him have some before she stole it. He noticed her watching his every bite, "You're thinking of stealing this aren't you?" Hope scoffed at the ridiculous accusation, "I am not," she huffed folded her arms in disgust. "Well maybe..." she said leaning over trying to grab it from his hands. Arran was too quick however, and she only succeeded in grabbing thin air.
Once they had finished eating, they chatted for a little while, before Arran suggested they get an early night. As the previous nights out in the wilderness, it was not long before Hope sought the warmth and comfort of her new friend. The chilly air and cold ground did not seem to bother her quite so much when she was wrapped in his arms. Of course, they had never done anything more than a few pecks on the cheek. Hope however thought that if she was to have a boyfriend, then she hoped it would be one like Arran. Whether it ever would be Arran, she was not certain. After all, he was a Darekian farm boy and she the King's niece. Her family would never allow such a thing, though the more she thought about it, the less she cared what people may or may not think.
In Murati, Jamal, Fabian and the Royal Guard, whose name they had discovered was Bracken, had remained hidden in the tree line. They had hoped the invaders that had given chase to them, would have given up and returned to their companions. It had soon become apparent that was not the case, as they had spotted them twice more that same evening. As a result, Bracken had thought it prudent to remain out of sight. They would then use the cover of darkness to make good their escape.
It was clear Fabian was not used to sitting around as he was asked. The youngster was continually asking when they would be going home. He complained he was cold and hungry on at least three occasions that Jamal heard, but Bracken remained firm in his plans. He was a Royal Guard and that meant keeping the Royal family members such as Fabian safe, even if that meant enduring, several temper tantrums. Jamal had told the youngster to quieten down on more than one occasion, fearing the invaders would hear him.
Jamal had been surprised at how the young man he had been asked to mentor had changed. Fabian had acted bravely and selflessly in helping him when it had mattered. Now the immediate danger was over, it was like dealing with the old Fabian, who had to try to get his own way all the time. This little matter was playing on Jamal's mind and he decided whilst they waited, he would tell Fabian what he thought.
To his credit Fabian, did listen to what Jamal said, or at least he thought he was listening; it was quite difficult to see in the dark. "Why do you make other people's lives so hard Fabian?" Jamal asked after making his point. There was a silence and he left it at that, it was clear Fabian was not going to give an answer, although he hoped at the very least the youngster might take on board what had been said.
They moved through the trees and out into the open. "We head east a little before turning north," Bracken said. "We do not take the horses at more than a walk," he added in a firm tone, telling them they would only injure the creatures in the dark if they
tried otherwise. Jamal looked at the night sky, knowing that one could tell from the stars which way was north, though if truth was told, he was not entirely sure which stars. Fortunately, it was clear that Bracken did know, as he pointed out to both young men, which star was which. "I already knew that," Jamal heard Fabian snidely say from behind him. Why did he have to be so rude all the time? Jamal had decided he liked the Fabian that helped him escape, and certainly not the one that usually existed.
Bracken hushed them and told them to stop. The only noise Jamal could hear was that of an owl somewhere out in the night. Its hooting stopped and the night fell silent. Fabian went to ask what they were doing, before being told to hush by Bracken. "If you keep your mouth shout for long enough we may be able to hear Fabian," Jamal added, only to find himself being told to hush as well.
They stayed silent and motionless for a few minutes and it was only then Jamal thought he could hear something else. The sound of horses, somewhere out in the night, but from which direction it was hard to tell. Bracken whispered for them to dismount, and to walk their horses a different direction they had been travelling. They did this for a few minutes, before Bracken asked them to stop and be silent again. Jamal strained to hear anything, but could not. He had to admit, although Bracken was older than both he and Fabian, the man had the hearing of a wolf, and as he was guiding them in the darkness, the eyesight of one as well.
Once Bracken had thought them far enough from trouble, he had suggested they sit tight for the rest of the night. Jamal was sat taking a drink from his canteen, watching the black of night slowly dissipate and the first light of another day start afresh. Bracken had readied their horses, and as a result, they were just waiting for Fabian to go relieve himself. The youngest member of their group quickly returned shuffling low between the bushes that gave them cover. "I think someone is coming," he whispered.
