The Brotherhood (The Eirensgarth Chronicles Book 1)

by Philip Smith

  “Great!” said the giant. “What about me?” Robert thought a moment. He should have known the other wouldn’t think this out for himself.

  “Here,” he said, pulling the other shovel and tossing it to the fellow. “Once we’re safe and out in the woods, our dear little dwarf can knock them off or something.”

  The giant muttered something about being big enough to do things himself, but Robert ignored him. He quickly crawled to the small hole under the barracks wall, which led through the shallow dirt and plaster. Robert threw back the rat-gnawed tarp that hid their trench and smiled with smug satisfaction. This was going to make a great story someday.

  He and Twostaves wormed their way into the shallow trough of moist, gritty earth. The giant had been right; it was a tight fit. Robert puffed as he shoved himself as far into their ‘masterpiece’ as he could. As near as they could figure, they had about half-a-foot of dirt left. Robert hoped to break through the last little bit of earth so that the pair could sneak along the wall until they got to a drain grate. Paige had assured them it would be an easy matter to break the wooden grate and join the others in the woods.

  The most delicate part of the plan was the timing. If they waited too long, they would lose the distraction the feast had given them. But if they left too soon, the lingering twilight could pose the problem of being easily spotted.

  “Ready?,” breathed Robert. The giant nodded. Robert took a deep breath and thrust his spade against the soil.

  In a matter of seconds, his fist smashed through the dirt. He inhaled the sweet night air, but he wasted no more than a moment on sentiment; if he didn’t hurry, it wouldn’t be a long breath. As he wormed his way out of the tiny hole, his shirt caught against the log wall of the barracks like sandpaper on splintery maple. Pushing his arms out of the tunnel, Robert grunted as he pulled himself out, then stopped abruptly.

  “Go! Go! What are you waiting for?” urged the anxious Twostaves behind him in a hushed whisper. But Robert didn’t move a hair in response. He didn’t feel like exchanging sarcastic comments with a huge tribal guard aiming a sharp bone arrowhead at his forehead.

  ◆◆◆

  Jesnake slid down the chute so fast, he thought for sure that the blades would shred his body into ribbons. He had briefly prepared to meet his maker, when miracle of miracles, he heard the clink as the knife fell into the fast moving wheels. It had fallen faster than the elf, being scooped up by the spinning blades and thrown into the works of the mill as the blades came to a grinding halt. The water, having nowhere to flow now, began spilling over the side.

  Jesnake slid to a halt only inches from the end of the trough. He sat stunned for a moment, then breathed a sigh of relief. That was close. Far too close. Jenake had endured his fair share of close encounters and narrow escapes in battle, but he couldn’t recall a moment in time he had come that close to death. The elf took a long, haggard breath and waited a moment for his pulse to relax. Then, he turned back to the trough and slowly grasped the sides. With one more look back at the large, still water-wheel and grinding stones, he clutched the sides of the the slick trough and pulled himself up once again.

  His progress slowed exponentially due partly to the fact that he was getting colder, and now he didn’t have the knife or the traction of his sandal. He slowly pulled himself up the chute once again, reaching around the outside of the trough and grasping at the driest part of the boards he could find. It was slow-going and excruciating on his arms, and he clamped down as hard as he could while reaching around as far as he could manage. Eventually he grasped the opening at the top of the roof. It was slick with green algae, but his shakey grip held. With his last ounce of energy, he hauled his slim body out into to night air and rolled over onto his back.

  He rested for several moments, facing the sky as he breathed heavily, the two crescent moons of Eirensgarth smiling down at him. Or were they frowning at him, he wondered. It all depended on his perspective. A meteor flashed across the midnight-blue pallor of the heavens, and Jesnake felt peaceful for the first time in many months. He let the cold water run over his shoulders. It felt more refreshing now, less icy and foreboding.

  He would have stayed like that for a while longer, had not the sound of feet shuffling across gravel caught his attention. For a brief moment, he thought it had merely been his mind playing tricks upon him in the wake of his death-defying escape. Then a second scraping sound confirmed the reality of something else.

  There was definitely someone below him. He caught his breath and held perfectly still. Soon, slithering whispers reached his ears from beyond the gurgling of the water in the trough. Jesnake strained to catch the hushed tones by lifting his head ever so gently out of the water.

  “Is everything ready?” hissed one voice, unrecognizable to the elf. It sounded like someone had slashed the man’s voice box with a dagger.

  “Yes, Seren,” hissed another. Jesnake had no trouble recognizing the voice belonging to Locamnen. “As soon as the party dies down, you will have your prisoners.”

  Jesnake felt his heart stop. His chest went heavy when he recognized the tell-tale ‘clink’ of chainmail moving. No one in the village wore chainmail that Jesnake had seen. The guards here wore fur and some leather plate-armor. The only rational explanation sent a knot through Jesnake’s abdomen, a knot he was used to feeling. Fear.

  A Shaud would have chainmail. And if he was a Seren, or captain, there would be at least fifty men under him, if not a hundred.

  “We only need the girl,” said the seren in guttural tones. “The others are expendable.”

  “You will have her, my friend,” muttered Locamnen, his voice slithering through the air like a viper in tall grass. “But you will recall that our agreement, expendable or not, was a lump sum for a lump bunch of prisoners.”

  “I know very well the terms of our arrangement, you piece of backwater slime,” the captain hissed. “Just be sure they are delivered by dawn’s first light tomorrow, in the glade just south of the village. If you prove false, I am certain I will laugh over your grave as I burn your home and all your possessions to the ground.”

  “No need to worry on that account,” Locamnen assured. “My services for coin. That was our deal.”

  “As if I would seriously trust a deal at your word.”

  “That is of no consequence to me, Raven head,” Locamnen slithered. “I’m the only one who can get you what you want.”

  You blaggard-hearted, soulless piece of trash, Jesnake snarled in his head. No honor. There was no honor to be found in a single fiber of this man’s being. Jesnake would have loved nothing more than to drop down and strangle this human with his bare hands. Evidently the captain held him in an almost equal amount of disdain.

  “You simpering weasel, the only reason you’re still alive is it is significantly cheaper for me to just pay you to usher the girl out than it is to raise this place to the ground. But do not think for one moment the thought of this place in a state of alarm worries me in the slightest. I would burn you and every soul in it alive on an altar to the gods before you even had time to string a bow. Do not test me.”

  “Just bring the coin, and you won’t have to trouble yourself with such thoughts. One hour. Behind the storehouse. Don’t be late.”

  Jesnake heard the crunch of the earth under steel-plated boots and leather sandals as the two walked away. He waited for a moment to make sure they had gone, then slid over onto his belly again. The water of the trough tickled his chin as he began to force himself through towards the wall where he could escape the confines of the stockade. All pain was forgotten; he had to get out and warn the others before it was too late.

  ◆◆◆

  The guard sneered at Robert with a dose of smugness as he leveled the arrow shaft at his prisoner’s forehead. Robert gulped. The man seemed as solid as an oak tree, and his yew bow pulled at least seventy pounds at full draw. The man held it steadily at a full pull without so much as a twitch.

  “Nice t
ry,” hissed the archer.

  “Uh… Hello!” croaked Robert. Well, that was dumb, he thought to himself. In his panic he had no idea what else he could say. His breath came out in hard gasps as sweat protruded from his brow in massive drops. He’d felt this kind of fear only a few times in his life, but somehow he mustered a smile.

  “Wild party, eh?” said Robert in a shaky voice.

  The guard grinned slyly. “I’ll say,” the guard said, not even blinking.

  “Sure you don’t want to join in the festivities?”

  “Sure do,” the man snapped. “But some of us have a job to do.”

  “ How inconvenient for us....”

  “Agreed,” hissed the guard as he aimed the deadly arrow just off to the left of Robert’s sternum area. “But if you were to be shot while escaping, I wouldn’t have to be here standing guard now would I?”

  Robert wondered how much he would be able to feel before his body registered the shock to his brain and his entire system shut down. He closed his eyes for the impact and sickening ‘thud’ sure to follow. He silently prayed that Paige would make it out safe.

  THWACK!

  Robert’s eyes flew open, and he beheld the arrow still quivering only a hair’s breadth above his left shoulder. He looked up to see the guard out cold on the dirt pathway, crumpled like a broken spider. Behind him was a medium sized man, completely covered in a deep, pine-green cloak. His hood was pulled over his eyes, and he held a staff. But within the time it took for him to blink, the figure vanished completely, leaving only an unconscious guard to show he had been there at all.

  Present or not, Robert realized that the stranger had just given him an opportunity to escape. He wiggled out as fast as he was able, then plastered himself against the wall of the barracks.

  “What happened!?” Twostaves demanded, wriggling his head out of the tiny hole and seeing the crumpled guard, now immobilized.

  “We have a ‘friendly’ watching over us apparently,” Robert said, brushing the loose dirt off his clothes.

  “Wow, that was close,” Twostaves whispered as he hauled himself out of the hole. The sound of a group of men laughing sent them into a faster pace as they skipped over to the outer wall. They chose a pile of weathered and forgotten boxes near the barracks toolshed to hide them as they rested a moment. Twostaves and Robert attempted silence as best as their heaving would allow as they peeked from their hiding spot.

  “Who do you think that was?” Twostave’s big eyes darting about for more potential danger.

  “Don’t know, don’t care. All I know is that whoever he is the only reason we both aren't living pincushions.”

  Twostaves started to let out his obnoxious laugh, but Robert managed to smash a hand over the giant’s mouth. Twostaves stopped, and they held their breath as the sound of the partying guards came closer.

  “What in heaven’s name are you trying to do?” Twostaves demanded as Robert tried to plaster himself to the wall.

  “Trying to blend in,” hushed Robert, sucking in his gut.

  “Eöl, have you ever seen a red tree-monkey try to hide on a tree trunk covered in green moss?”

  “Are you implying what I think you are? Because if you are implying what I think you are implying, then you’d better imply something else, because I’m about to imply something like my fist into your face.”

  “I’m just saying, it’s no use trying to flatten your-”

  Robert cut him off.

  “We forgot to stash the guard!” he hissed. He smacked his head with his hand over and over. Twostaves grew a shade paler, and they popped their heads up from above the pile of crates. But the body of the unconscious man was gone. For a moment, Robert feared that he’d gotten up and was stumbling back to his comrades. But then he saw a pair of leather-clad feet poking out of the hole they had just come from.

  “A friendly, indeed,” Twostaves muttered. “Come on Eöl, we aren’t out of the frying pan yet!”

  ◆◆◆

  Dinendale stole around one of the huts as quietly as he could manage. He warily glanced behind him, his dark brown eyes surveying the area for any potential dangers. The air was filled with the soft lilt of far-off laughter, and Dinendale made it a point to run away from it as he stole from wall to wall. He stood fifty yards from the stockade, the only barrier between him and his freedom. Haunting memories followed him as the all too familiar stress of performing an escape from slavery gripped his chest. Dinendale swallowed the feeling. He couldn’t afford to be weighed down now.

  After checking once more for potential witnesses, he slipped out of the shadows and scampered to the log walls of the stockade. He stood still only for a moment, gazing up at the nine foot barricade that barred his path. Dinendale leapt against the wall, driving his chisel deep into the soft pine. With cool smoothness, he slid up and over the edge of the wall. He dropped to the grass below, landing on the balls of his feet like a panther. Then, with one last hurried look at his old prison, Dinendale padded off into the wood.

  ◆◆◆

  Paige’s unease only mounted as the festivities wore on. No matter how hard she tried, the same three boys kept coming to dance with her: the foreign novelty. She’d never been much for vanity, but tonight she was wishing she was a bit uglier. She had to get out. She felt as trapped than her friends currently in chains. If she didn't get free soon, she could leave the boys stranded and defenseless in the middle of the wood.

  Her latest suitor was grinning ear to ear with a set of teeth too big for his head. She had tried to slip out three different times during the dance, but every time he found her before she could get out of the circle. After what seemed like ages, the drums began to slow and she saw her window of opportunity. She nodded and curtsied to the boy and hastened out of the circle.

  “We have to go,” she hissed to Abenya. “This was a stupid idea. We should have stuck to the plan.”

  “We’ll be fine.” Abenya said, but Paige glared at her.

  “We’re wasting time. If I don’t break away now, we’ll run the risk of losing the window I need to-”

  A tap on her shoulder interrupted her.

  “Excuse me miss,” started a young man with blond bangs and freckles as he stepped forward, but the princess was done trying to exit gracefully.

  “No!” she snapped, trying to walk around the fellow.

  “I insist!” he tried to press. With a quick movement, Paige sidestepped out of his waiting hand as another dancing couple blocked the boy’s view. She dipped and wove in between couples and into the crowd on the other side of the firelay. In that moment, she dove behind a stack of crates to the side of a banquet table.

  She peeked out to see if she could see Abenya. The girl was on the right side of the fire lay, about ten yards off, searching for Paige in the sea of dancers. Paige waited until Abenya was standing only a few yards away before she moved out of the shadows slightly. The light of the fire cast a golden glow across her eyes. Abenya saw her and quickly stepped between her and the boy still searching for her.

  “Where are you off to, Henrick!?” Abenya piped up in a cheerful bantering tone.

  “Abenya!”

  While the girl was blocking the young man from Paige’s view, an older man, one of the village elders, strode over to her. Paige felt a pang of panic. Abenya was supposed to be her backup in getting over the stockade wall.

  “Yes, Lord Butterly?” the girl asked. The older man gestured for her to come to him. Behind her back, Abenya made a motion for Paige to go on ahead. The princess hesitated, but realizing that Abenya wasn’t going to be able to break away easily, she seized the opportunity and silently slipped between the houses.

  Paige stole across the deserted streets as dark. The cold night drowned the warmth and cheer of the bonfire in a frosty mist. The village was a ghost town with all the people out at the feasting fires and banquet tables, so much like that terrible night back home. She began to weave her way in and out of alleys towards the place she knew sh
e would have to enact her own escape plan, unaware of the slippery shadow skulking deftly in and out of the darkness behind her.

  ◆◆◆

  Robert and Twostaves huffed and puffed as they pounded their feet through the forest vegetation. They now made for the rendezvous point, slowed by Twostaves’ shackled legs.

  “Where were we supposed to meet?” heaved the giant, struggling to keep moving.

  “Paige said there was a small clearing to the east. There’s an oak tree in the middle,” Robert heaved as they barreled through the dense underbrush of the Wild’s highlands.

  They continued on for several minutes. However, the woods didn’t seem to thin out into a clearing the further in they went. On the contrary, they seemed to thicken. Robert began to question the accuracy of Paige’s information.

  “Now, if I were a clearing in the middle of the thickest, darkest forest this side of the Whisperwood” he pondered, “Where would I be?”