The King's Scrolls

by Jaye L. Knight

  Despite the cold, Timothy pulled off his coat and rolled up his sleeves to get to work under Whit’s instruction. They worked as quickly as they could to get to the next patients. Over sixty men needed attention, and many were far worse off than the man with the broken ribs, as Timothy soon discovered. Broken and crushed limbs needed to be set, and large wounds stitched. He spent most of the time holding men down while Whit tended their injuries. Though he had a strong stomach, he ached for them, especially the seriously wounded who were more likely to die from subsequent infections than to survive. At each man, he silently prayed for Elôm’s healing hand on him.

  Timothy had just finished helping Whit bandage a man with a long gash in his leg when a low rumbling vibrated through the ground, up into Timothy’s knees. Men shouted. His head snapped up, and his eyes flew to the mine. Dust billowed from the mouth, and falling rock echoed deep inside. His heart stopped, and he scrambled to his feet, rushing toward the mine. Halfway there, a mine official grabbed his arm to stop him. He tried to pull away, but another man joined in to hold him back.

  “My brother’s in there,” he said desperately.

  Unable to break their hold, he could only watch and plead with Elôm for Aaron’s life. Heart-pounding seconds stretched into agonizing minutes. He’s not coming out, the realistic part of his mind tried to prepare him, though Timothy clung to hope. He has to. But, with each minute, the hope diminished and morbid thoughts crowded in. If Aaron was gone, would he even have a body to bury?

  Grief settled, compressing his lungs and cutting deeply into his chest. His throat ached with tears that rose up to blur his eyes. He’d feared this day for all of his life.

  Yet, through his watery vision, he picked out movement. With a blink, he brought a shape into focus and gasped as Aaron stumbled into view. Commotion swept through the crowd, and the men released Timothy. He rushed to his brother’s side as Aaron fell to his knees. Hunched over, Aaron coughed and gasped, spitting out dirt. When he finally caught his breath, he traded a wide-eyed look with Timothy that revealed how narrowly he had escaped death. His hands shaking, Timothy helped him to his feet and embraced him tightly. Thank You, Elôm!

  They only had a moment before the foreman rushed up with questions.

  “What happened down there?”

  Still breathing heavily, Aaron shook his head. “The rest of the section came down.” He winced, his voice hoarse. “We’re not going to find anyone alive down there. It’s all solid rock.”

  Kyrin stirred the large pot of simmering beans and meat as Lenae added the spices. Her gaze drifted once again to Trask’s cabin. So far, he and the others had not yet emerged. Curiosity led her to making speculations as to who would be chosen to join Captain Darq and the cretes. There were many men qualified for such a mission. She swept her gaze across camp. Men milled about or talked in groups. She wasn’t the only curious one. On the other side of the fire, Kaden and Trev discussed the cretes and, of course, the dragons.

  The sound of a door closing drew all eyes to Trask’s cabin. Conversation fell silent as Tane and Rayad approached the fire, while Warin walked toward another group. Tane’s focus rested on Kyrin, but Rayad looked around camp. When the two men reached the fire, the talcrin announced, “Kyrin, Kaden, Trev—Trask would like to speak to you.”

  Kyrin exchanged a look with her brother. She and Kaden seemed unlikely candidates for the mission, if that’s what this was about. She handed her spoon to Lenae and turned toward the cabin. Before she went far, Rayad touched her arm to stop her for a moment.

  “Have you seen Jace?”

  She shook her head. “Not since the cretes left.”

  Rayad gave a small nod, and she hurried to catch up with the others. At the cabin door, they met Warin, who had brought along Holden and Mick. They all traded curious glances as they stepped inside. Trask waited for them at the table, which was much too large for the small space, but perfect for meetings.

  He welcomed them with a smile. “Please, have a seat.”

  Kyrin, being the smallest, squeezed back into the corner with the men on either side of her. Trask did not sit, but stood facing them, his hands resting on the back of an empty chair. Kyrin took a quick glance at the maps spread out on the table before her eyes rose to focus on their leader.

  “I know how curious you must be, so I won’t keep you waiting,” he said. “After our discussion, we’ve decided that you are five of the people we’d like to have on this mission.”

  Kyrin’s eyes widened. She had never thought she’d have an active part in it. A glimpse at Kaden confirmed that his expression matched hers. They were two of the youngest members in camp, besides a couple of the village children.

  “Are you sure we’re all . . .” She looked again at Kaden. She didn’t doubt his ability as a warrior, but neither one had the experience of age. This mission was of utmost importance, after all. Her eyes slid back to Trask. “. . . qualified? I haven’t really been a part of something like this, and I know my fighting skills wouldn’t match anyone at this table.”

  But Trask gave her a kind smile and an affirming nod. “Yes, I am. We’ve selected each of you based on what we believe you can bring to the team. You, Kyrin, have proven to be a valuable asset in complicated situations, and you never know when your people-reading skills will come in handy. We need more than just fighting power.”

  His eyes now switched to her brother. “And Kaden—you, Trev, and Holden have had the professional training most men in camp haven’t. We pray it doesn’t come to that, but I think the cretes will appreciate a certain degree of professionalism if we find ourselves facing the emperor’s men.”

  He then came to the last man in line. “You, Mick, have also had training, and not only that, you’re from the Graylin Valley, correct?”

  Mick nodded. “Lived there twenty-three years of my life.”

  “Then you know the area better than any of us. Each of you will have an important role in this. However, the choice is up to you. These aren’t orders. You can choose not to go. This mission does present risk. It’s a race against the emperor’s men.”

  Kyrin faced Kaden in consideration. He’d go in a heartbeat.

  Trev was the first to offer a nod. “Count me in.”

  Kaden was right behind him, followed immediately by Holden and Mick. Trask nodded to each of them and then focused on Kyrin. If he thought she could add to the group, then she wasn’t going to argue. “I’ll go.”

  He smiled. “Good. We’ll be leaving in a couple of days. Speed is crucial, and we have a lot of ground to cover in a short time, so Captain Darq is sending us dragons and a couple of cretes to teach us the basics of flying. We—”

  “Dragons?” the question burst out of Kaden. “We get dragons?”

  Trask’s eyes twinkled. “Yes, we’ll each be given a dragon. It’s the cretes’ way of demonstrating their friendship and gratitude for our help. They hope to establish a close link between our group and their people, which would be very valuable to all of us.”

  Kaden’s wide-eyed half grin said he didn’t hear anything beyond ’yes’. He and Trev exchanged a quick glance, looking like two little boys who’d just received the most extravagant birthday gift.

  Kyrin stifled a chuckle, not wanting to disrupt the conversation, but Trask didn’t get a chance to speak further before the door opened. Rayad entered first, followed by Jace. As the door closed, Jace scanned all the faces with a look of confusion and, perhaps, slight apprehension.

  “Come sit down,” Trask invited.

  Jace moved to the table and silently took a seat. He didn’t look entirely comfortable being the center of attention, and Kyrin sent him a quick smile to ease his nerves before Trask spoke.

  “I’ve just finished explaining to everyone that, after our discussion, we’ve chosen them to be part of the team to join the cretes on their mission. You’re the final member who would complete the team. We could certainly use your skills, but it’s your choice whether to go or
stay.”

  Kyrin studied Jace as he took this in and thought it over, though his expression never changed. She didn’t think he had made up his mind yet when he asked, “Who’s going?”

  “Everyone here has chosen to go, except for Tane, who must return to Valcré, and Warin, who will watch over camp in my absence.”

  Jace’s eyes shifted across the table and lingered a moment on Kyrin before he nodded. “I’ll join you.”

  His decision brought another smile to her lips. It was for her he had chosen to go along—to keep her safe.

  Gloomy dusk had fallen at the mine by the time all the anxious family members had carried away their wounded men. Long, painful nights lay ahead for most of them. Timothy cast his tired eyes around the nearly-empty area, and the weight of exhaustion and sorrow almost dragged him straight to his knees. Eerie quiet had begun to settle. His gaze fell on those still waiting behind the barricades, clinging to a rapidly dying hope.

  His heart sank when his eyes rested on one of the women he’d come here with, Susie Barnell, and her children. Her fourteen-year-old son, Willie, had joined her, suffering only minor injuries in the cave-in, but her husband was nowhere to be found. Timothy could only assume that the man lay under the tons of fallen rock inside the mine. Their eyes met, and her desperate plea for good news tore at his heart. He looked around helplessly, but knew he needed to be the one to tell her. No one else would be as sympathetic to her pain. His throat clogging, he sent a desperate prayer heavenward and walked toward the family. He bent under the barricade and straightened in front of them.

  Timothy opened his mouth to speak, but tears already pooled in her eyes, and he had to swallow before his voice would work. “I’m sorry, Susie . . . Mark didn’t make it out.”

  Shock held her frozen for a moment, but then a sob broke free. Tears coursed down her anguished face as she clutched her youngest daughter to her heaving chest while the others clung to her skirt, their young faces drawn in confusion and grief. Two tears tracked down Timothy’s face as he looked over at Willie, who stood dumbly. Then, realization and responsibility landed squarely on the boy’s shoulders. Despite his grief, he stood up a little taller and put his arms around his sobbing mother and siblings. Timothy watched, heartbroken, as the boy became a man right before his eyes.

  His voice caught as he murmured, “I’m so sorry. If there’s anything…anything I can do…”

  He wasn’t sure if they even heard him in their daze, and what could he truly do to bring relief beyond praying for them? Nothing would dull the pain for a long while. But Willie gave him a quick, pained glance of acknowledgement before the family turned to leave the mine.

  The very last ounce of Timothy’s strength seemed to drain away, and he stood cold and paralyzed as, one by one, the others faced the awful truth about their own missing men and departed. His breath was shallow and difficult, his heart crying with them. Memories flickered through his mind of standing next to Aaron on another cold night just like this one.

  An uproar of voices tore him from his daze. He straightened his hunched shoulders and recognized Aaron’s angry voice rising above the rest.

  “What do you mean we won’t be paid in full?”

  Timothy brushed his sleeves across his damp cheeks and turned. A group of miners stood around the wages booth, where they usually received their day’s pay. Bearing torches, they resembled a mob, but the mine owner stood his ground and glared down from atop a wagon. Timothy worked his way closer.

  “You didn’t work a full day so you won’t receive a full day’s wages,” Tolman announced.

  A loud grumble swept through the men but, again, Aaron spoke for the group. He’d always had good standing and respect among the other miners who knew how fiercely he fought for their rights.

  “We’ve been here since dawn. We worked tirelessly to find any survivors in that deathtrap of a mine. We all risked our lives here. We deserve full pay. That’s what most of us need to survive each day.”

  Tolman puffed out his chest, which only succeeded in magnifying his ample girth, and shook his head. “I pay for a full day’s work and productive labor. Either take what you’re offered, or take nothing. If you keep up this demonstration, I’ll have you arrested, and you can look for work elsewhere.”

  Outrage swept through the group, and Timothy was afraid they would turn into a mob. It wouldn’t be the first time. Three years ago, ten miners and four of Tolman’s hired guards had been killed in such a fight. But after a few shouted insults and threats, the outcry died—once more on account of Aaron’s influence. Timothy breathed in relief. They’d seen enough death and tragedy for one day. Grudgingly, each man accepted his cut wages and the crowd dispersed, though many still grumbled.

  Timothy waited until he spotted his brother leave the wage booth with his meager share of coins and hurried to his side. Aaron’s face was grim and too deeply lined for his age. Anger still lit his eyes at the cruel injustice he and the others had to bear. He stopped to face Timothy, and a little of the ire melted into concern.

  “Are you all right?”

  Timothy gave a hesitant nod, not sure how to respond. He cleared his throat, which still ached with emotion. “I had to tell Susie about Mark.”

  Aaron winced. “We lost a lot of good men today.” He reached out and squeezed Timothy’s shoulder. When he spoke again, contempt sharpened his voice. “And, on top of it, we have to suffer Tolman’s greed.”

  He shook his head with a glance back at the disgruntled and defeated miners. His shoulders sagged, and his weary eyes shifted back to Timothy. They were both about ready to collapse on the spot. The thought of having to walk all the way across town was almost too much.

  “Let’s go home,” Aaron murmured as they turned their backs on the mine. “Josan must be worried sick.”

  This thought alone was enough to propel Timothy forward and keep them both moving at a good pace.

  They walked in silence most of the way, consumed with their thoughts. Now that both had suffered pay cuts, they had very little to show for today. They would certainly feel the impact, especially since Timothy’s was permanent. He glanced at his brother, reluctant to give him the news. With a deep breath and prayer for provision, he said, “Harold cut my pay again.”

  Aaron stopped abruptly and spun to face him. “What?” Even in the darkness of the alley, his scowl was evident. “What excuse did he give this time?”

  “He said I’m too small to do the work he needs me to do.”

  Aaron snorted in disgust. “You do three times the work of that good-for-nothing son of his.”

  “It’s just his way of saying he doesn’t like that I’m half crete. He’s doing it because he can. He knows I won’t quit.”

  “Maybe you should,” Aaron muttered, his blue eyes flashing in the moonlight with a vividness more indicative of their mixed blood than Timothy’s brown ones.

  He shook his head. “No one else would hire me . . . except for the mines.”

  “No.” Aaron gave a firm, decided shake of his head. “I promised Father I’d protect you. I won’t have you working anywhere near the mines.”

  He moved on, his stride determined.

  Timothy released a heavy sigh and caught up with him. “We may not have a choice.”

  “I’ll make sure we do,” Aaron replied in a stubborn tone.

  Timothy didn’t know if that was possible anymore. It wasn’t as if his brother could pick up many more shifts at the mine. To do so would require him to devote his every waking hour to work. But he let the matter go. Only Elôm knew what the future would bring. Besides, his brother had fought to take care of them since their father died. He wasn’t about to make that job any more difficult by arguing.

  At last, they reached the far edge of town. Nestled on a bare, rocky piece of ground sat a rundown cottage. The wood siding was dried out and cracked, and the front shutters hung precariously from their rotting leather hinges. But warm light poured through the small, smudged wind
ows and the open door, silhouetting a figure waiting for them.

  Their feet starting to drag, Timothy and Aaron trudged the remaining few yards home. The man at the door, propped up on one leg and a pair of old crutches, welcomed them with a relieved smile.

  “I heard about the cave-in. I’ve been standing here praying ever since, waiting to see you two walk up.”

  His voice mingled with sorrow and exhaustion, Aaron responded, “Well, we made it, but at least thirty others didn’t, unfortunately.”

  Josan’s lips set in a thin line. “Their poor families.”

  He stepped back to let Timothy and Aaron inside.

  On the way in, Timothy touched the crete man’s shoulder and looked into his dazzling blue eyes. “I’m sorry I kept you waiting all this time for news.”

  A sad smile creased Josan’s brown, careworn face. “I’m sure there were others who needed you more than I did.”

  Timothy gave a slow nod and closed the door against the nighttime cold. He hung up his bag and coat, and turned as Josan worked his way around to the fireplace, barely squeezing between the table and a cabinet with his crutches. If only the cottage was a bit bigger so he could navigate through better, but they couldn’t even afford to repair it, much less add on. However, they had a solid roof over their heads. Timothy thanked Elôm for that. At least they didn’t have to resort to living in a tent, as some miners did. Not yet, anyway.

  Josan stirred the contents of a small pot. “I’ve kept supper warm.”

  “I think I’d better get cleaned up first,” Aaron said, with a glance at his clothes. Everything, including his skin, was all one color—a dirty gray.

  He headed out the back door. Timothy followed, his arms covered in blood and grime from the wounded miners. Outside, a washstand leaned against the cottage. They stripped off their dirty shirts, and Aaron tossed Timothy a rag. He dunked it into the basin and started scrubbing his body, gasping as the icy water bit his skin. It reminded him again of the coming winter—the most difficult season to survive in the Valley. Far too many people died of exposure, illness, and starvation every year. He usually did not fear such a fate for himself, Aaron, or Josan, but this winter would surely be their hardest yet. Still, even as he thought this, memorized words entered his mind to comfort and reassure him. The young lions do lack and suffer hunger; But they who seek the Lord shall not be in want of any good thing.