Magic of Ruyn

by RG Long

  Ealrin had to think for a moment. What was it like to fight? Why was he fighting?

  Ever since Good Harbor and meeting Holve and Roland there, he felt like he was fighting for a purpose. To get back a locket. To save a little girl. To keep that same girl safe. Even in battle against an army, he hadn't thought about himself. It had been about Blume. About a country he had come to love and desired to defend.

  “It's less about being brave,” Ealrin said slowly, trying to put his thoughts into words. “For me, it's been about protecting someone. With the troll, it was you. At other times I've been trying to protect a friend,” he continued.

  “Who are you fighting for now?” Bertrom asked.

  That was a good question.

  Immediately Ealrin thought of the friends he had made. Holve and Roland believed in Thoran's view of unity amidst diversity. Then there was Gorplin, the dwarf who led the refugees from the mountain holds down south. Now he had the King’s Swords as his companions.

  Tory, who fought to avenge his friend and find revenge against his brother, the traitor.

  Lote, without whom, Ealrin wasn't sure he'd be alive at the moment.

  Blume, who had no family left due to Androlion's madness.

  And Gaflion, who served out of loyalty to friend and family.

  Teresa, who fought for the kingdom her father protected with his life and ultimately died for.

  Then these two halflings, who seemed to crave adventure and protect their own small community from harm.

  After considering all of these, Ealrin knew why he fought.

  “I'm not brave because I don't have fear. There have been times when I thought I was going to die,” he said.

  Ealrin vividly remembered being a prisoner of Androlion and fearing for his life, as well as for Teresa and Holve's.

  “I fight because I believe in the things Thoran fights for. And because I want to protect the people I've met along my journey. If Androlion has his way, all my friends will die. And I can't let that happen.”

  Ealrin's eyes got misty as he thought of those he had already lost.

  “My friends are the only family I have now,” he said as he blinked his eyes a few times to clear the mist. “I'm brave because that's how I'll keep my friends safe.”

  Ealrin sighed.

  "When it mattered, I didn't just decide to brave. I decided to protect those I care about."

  Bertrom was silent for a time.

  The fire crackled and Ealrin threw another small branch to keep the flames going. Stars above them shone brightly through the smoke that rose lazily into the sky. Jurrin and Jurgon slept next to one another, sharing a pack for a pillow.

  “I don't have any family left, either,” Bertrom said. “My father and two brothers died in the battle down south. My mother died several years ago from a sickness. I'm the only one left.”

  The two men sat for a time. An owl in the distance gave a hoot as it grabbed a delicious mouse from the plains for its midnight snack.

  “What happened to your family?” Bertrom asked, looking over at Ealrin for the first time since sitting down.

  “Uh,” he said chuckling. “About me...”

  The rest of their watch passed quickly as Ealrin told a tale of lost memories, sailing ships, marauding goblins, rescued children, and a war he claimed as his own.

  By the time they woke Gorplin for his turn at the watch, Ealrin had finished his tale and was again reminded how the fates had treated him up to this point.

  22: The Escape Plan

  Work at Miss Greer's Home for the Helpless had doubled in the last few days. More white cloth was made from the looms and the sewing tables.

  The carts that the boys brought in to take the cloth away flew in between the two rooms.

  The boys and girls who worked in the shop were pushed to the brink of exhaustion. Even Blume, who considered herself a hard worker, was winded and worn out at the end of each day.

  "She'll kill us if she keeps working this hard. I wonder if that's her plan?" She said one night during reflection time.

  "More than likely," Katy replied as she sewed together some scraps of cloth she had stolen from the workroom.

  Their plan had to be both simple and pretty complicated. Blume had never seen the exit to the building. But by slipping Jeremy notes updating him on their plans, she knew that he had seen the best way to leave the Home for the Helpless.

  Mostly the plan involved a few key distractions happening at the right moment. During breakfast, before they gave thanks to Miss Greer, a few girls would feign sickness. While that distracted Miss Greer and the cook, some of the boys would pretend to get into a fight. Hopefully, this would cause the adults to be split up and allow for Blume, Abigail, and Jeremy to group together. Katy was going to steal the necklace from Ms. Greer during the commotion. After she handed it to Blume, she would give the signal to start throwing flour bombs.

  Katy was working on sewing together one such bomb right now. They were just simple sacks of cloth with about a half of cup of flour inside of them. The idea was that once they hit something, they would burst open and cause a cloudy haze to cover the trio’s escape.

  "I've tried to convince some of the others to escape with you. You know, a mass exodus," She said as she placed a finished flour bomb to the side and picked up another scrap of cloth to work on, her fourth for the night.

  "A lot of them are happy to help you get out, but most are too scared about trying to make it on their own out on the streets. Or worse, getting caught and being brought back here."

  Blume stopped adding the flour to one of the cloth sacks and looked inquisitively at Katy.

  "What do you think Ms. Greer would do to someone who she caught escaping?"

  Katy bit off a piece of thread with her teeth.

  "I've seen her send the boys to work down on the docks. Some of them sail away; we don't ever hear from them again."

  She bit her lip.

  "And the girls?" Abigail asked.

  "Let's just say she would find different ways to make you earn her money," Katy replied.

  Blume shuddered.

  They couldn't get this wrong.

  She might figure out a way out of another tough spot, but she couldn't imagine what they might do to Abigail.

  The plan had to work.

  TWO MORE DAYS WOULD pass before they were ready to make their escape.

  Blume was ready to attempt a good night's rest after reflection time. They had made the last of the flour bombs just a few moments ago. Katy had retired to her own bunk, which was three down from Blume and Abigail's. After working on all the sewing, she said she wanted to get a good night's rest. She took some of their work with her, smuggled under her dress, and hid them in her mattress. Both Blume and Abigail had similar stashes.

  As Blume climbed into her own bed, she found Abigail right behind her.

  But instead of lifting herself up onto her top bunk, she hesitated as she looked at the elf.

  “I know this may sound odd, especially since I'm not sure if we're close friends yet or anything. But I was wondering if... Well, I suppose it would be a little forward of me to ask... But it would make me feel better if...”

  She lay there trying to find the right words and absentmindedly massaging her hands. It had become a habit of hers ever since they arrived in the workshop.

  Blume was at a bit of a loss. She was a little hurt that Abigail didn't know if they were friends or not. They had been through quite a lot together. But was that what made you friends with someone? A shared experience? Or was it something more?

  “Whatever it is,” she interrupted the tongue-tied elf, “Sure.”

  Abigail stared at her feet and, very quietly, asked, “Can I sleep in your bed tonight? With you I mean?”

  There were a lot of requests Blume had prepared her mind for. That particular one was not among what she had thought about.

  “Umm... Sure,” she replied.

  “Oh, I forgot,” Abigail sa
id, now bringing her hands to her hips. “You didn't have any sisters did you?”

  Blume laughed. Now it made sense.

  “No,” she said with a little chuckle. “Just a brother. And I think he would have rather eaten chicken feet than share a bed with me. Though I'm hungry enough to consider it.”

  She climbed into her own bed and then made room for Abigail, who followed her under the covers.

  “My sisters and I would sleep in the same bed every once in awhile. Mostly it was when one of us was sad. Or when we couldn't sleep. Or when we just wanted to talk.”

  Blume stifled a laugh.

  “So more than every once in awhile, then?” she asked Abigail, who was now fairly close to her face.

  Abigail smiled.

  “Yes, now that you mention it. We did sleep together often. It was so comforting.”

  She lay on her side and looked at Blume, who lay on her back.

  “But then I started school. I roomed with this girl named Lenore, but she was never really willing to talk. She wanted to study all of the time. Most of the time she'd fall asleep at her desk instead of in her own bed.”

  “Is that why her forehead was so big?” Blume asked, picturing the girl with hair straighter than wheat and the same color, too. She also had quite the large area above her eyes before her hair began.

  They both laughed at the thought.

  “Maybe,” Abigail said. “I miss my sisters terribly. I missed them even before we came here. We were so close. What was your brother like, Blume?”

  “Stubborn,” she replied before she even had time to think about how much she missed him. “He was always so stubborn. He'd never listen to mom or me. Only dad could convince him to do anything. When he got his mind on something, though, he'd work at it till he figured it out. He was...”

  Blume had tried to talk through her tears, but her attempt was failing.

  “He was so funny. He always had something silly to say to make us laugh. And I always tried to make him be serious. I'd... I'd really love to hear him tell me another story. I miss his laugh so much.”

  She wasn't really in control of her words. Nor was she able to stem the flow of tears she now had gushing from her eyes.

  Abigail put an arm around Blume and held her closely.

  Blume buried her face in the arms of the elf who she just now realized was a friend. A close friend. One whom she could confide in and cry on. She had tried to be so tough for the last few weeks; she hadn’t realized how much she needed to let her tears come.

  For a few moments, neither of them spoke. Blume cried softly and Abigail just held her.

  Then she began to sing to Blume.

  Over rolling ocean waves

  Over misty mountains tall

  Past the view beyond the seas

  Lies the fairest one of all

  Can you find her, if you try?

  Will you search the meadows nigh?

  Or under forest shade and breeze

  Will you find her? Tell me please.

  Oh where has gone my fairest maid?

  Over rolling ocean waves.

  Blume sniffled and moved her head so that she wasn't buried in Abigail's chest anymore. Rather, she just lay next to her and looked at the bunk above them.

  “That was really pretty, Abigail. I didn't know you could sing,” she said, wiping her eyes and drying her cheeks.

  Abigail blushed.

  “Truthfully, I don't really like to. People look at you when you sing and it makes me forget the words or what part comes next. I could never sing for a crowd like you do. I heard you sing that song back at the Sly Pirate. Who do you think the maid is supposed to be? Is she a real girl or is she supposed to represent something else?”

  Blume thought for a moment.

  “I'm not sure,” she said. “I just thought it was about a girl. But maybe it could be about something else.”

  Abigail sighed deeply.

  “I think it's about trying to find something, not someone. Maybe like, trying to find out where you're supposed to live? Or what you're supposed to do. This person doesn't know, so they travel the seas to find out.”

  That had never occurred to Blume.

  Maybe Abigail was a little more intelligent than she had previously given her credit for.

  “Blume?” she asked, still holding her in her arms.

  “Hmm?” Blume replied.

  “How did you do it?”

  “Do what?”

  “How did you get us here? I mean, during the goblin attack on Thoran. I thought for sure we were going to die from falling off that wall. But then there was that flash of light. And we showed up here. How did you do it?”

  She had to think before she could put it into words.

  Of course she had thought about how she had been able to transport from halfway across a continent. What a feat of magic that had been! But Blume truly had no clue what words she had said in her panic, nor how she had managed to get them to Sea Gate through Speaking.

  She was as lost as a maid at sea.

  “I don't know, Abi,” she said finally. “I've tried to remember the words I spoke. I can't. When we were falling through the air, I just panicked and said what I thought would get us to safety. I didn’t know it would get us to a different country. We're lucky we didn't land in the ocean. Or the top of some mountain somewhere.”

  “Lucky,” Abigail repeated.

  Blume agreed that might not have been the best choice of words. So far they had spent a week and a half at an inn, serving as the staff there, and then another week at the Home for the Helpless.

  The latter was by far the worse experience.

  Blume was about to ask a question of her own, when she was interrupted.

  “Miss Abigail?” came a little voice from two bunks over.

  They both propped themselves up so they could see.

  A little girl, no older than six, was on her elbow, looking at them from her bunk. She had dark brown hair, shoulder length, and green eyes. Blume recalled her name. Jillian.

  “Could you sing that song again please?” she said. “I liked it.”

  Abigail and Blume lay back down on their beds and together, quietly, they sang the song of the girl who traveled over the oceans and the person who went to search for her.

  ON THE MORNING THEY were to attempt their plan, Blume had that familiar coldness in her fingers. She was nervous. Sleep had evaded her for most of the night. Even though she lay in bed and told herself over and over again that she needed rest, her mind would not stop spinning.

  Unaware of what time it was, she wiggled free of Abigail, who had no problem sleeping whatsoever, and slipped her shoes on. Having never been unable to sleep after working a full day’s labor, Blume took in the odd surroundings of the fifty or so girls who now slept peacefully on their bunks.

  It was sure to be the only peaceful part of their day.

  Sure she would be scolded for being out of bed, Blume continued to walk the bunks anyway.

  No reprimands came.

  Not a sound was heard save for the deep breathing of those who were able to cast off their cares and rest their tired bodies.

  Blume walked, without thinking, to the door that led to the kitchen and dining area. She pushed against the heavy wooden door and, surprisingly, it was neither locked nor even closed tightly. It swung open on its old hinges with very little effort.

  The usual candles that would light their morning and evening meal were extinguished, giving the room a ghostly appearance. Streaming from up above the tables and benches was a single light from Miss Greer's window.

  Blume had never seen a light in that window. Not since arriving in the home. The door that slammed shut after every morning thanks was cracked open. A sliver of light bounced down the staircase. With it came the faint sound of voices. One was the familiar tone of Miss Greer. Two others mingled with it. Ones Blume didn't recognize right away.

  Feeling it might have been best to turn back, Blume began
to slowly back out of the kitchen. When she turned, however, she was horrified to see 'the boss' walking among the bunks, checking to see if all were sleeping.

  Quickly, Blume stepped out of sight. She heard the click of his boots come closer and closer to the door that she had foolishly left open. Blume quickly and quietly moved a bench aside, hid under a table, and pulled the bench back as best as she could.

  Not a moment had passed after she did when the boss walked through the door, shut it, and locked it behind him with a key.

  Now Blume was in trouble.

  Before she could think of a way to get back into the dormitory without being caught, she heard Miss Greer's door open and several sets of feet descending.

  “Are all the brats quiet?” Blume heard Miss Greer ask the boss.

  “Not permanently,” the boss responded, chuckling as he slapped his whip across his thigh.

  “Now, now then, Festus, we need some of them alive to keep working,” Miss Greer responded.

  Blume assumed Festus was the boss' proper name. It seemed appropriate.

  “Not after this week is done, I hear,” Festus countered. “That's why they're here, isn't it?”

  They must be the other sets of feet Blume could see from under the table. Two pairs of well-polished black boots were all she could see.

  “Yes, yes,” Miss Greer said. “They're here to take twenty boys and ten girls. A work detail for the army. Those sails will need mending at some point, and who knows them better than the hands that crafted them themselves?”

  “Yes ma’am,” one voice said. It was distinctly male and very proper.

  It sounded vaguely familiar to Blume, though she couldn't visualize its owner.

  “When are we saying good riddance to the lucky rodents?” Festus asked.

  “Before the sun rises,” came the reply from the familiar voice.

  “And,” Miss Greer said in her too sweet voice, “my payment will be made when?”

  “As soon as they're loaded up and ready,” the other voice said, another male.

  “Good!” came her energetic reply. “Why wait any longer? Round them up right away!”