Deryn nodded and then flew off in a blue blaze out the iron-barred window and across the gravel road until he was perched in the rafters of the adjacent timber structure.
Cal reached his hands through timber slats and took hold of the cold, iron lock. He whispered an anxious prayer as he placed the teeth of the key into the keyhole. "Forgive me when I have failed You, forgive me even now if I offend Your will. But I still ask for You to protect me and guide my steps, even if it be willingly into exile." With the last whispered word of his prayer, Cal turned the head of the iron key. The click of the latch sounded, reverberating in his cell as his nervous, sweating hand held the remnants of his iron captor. He lifted the lock off the door, placing it in the corner of his prison hold, and then he waited. His eyes remained fixed on Deryn's location, waiting for the signal that all was clear to flee.
After what seemed like an eternity of silence, the Sprite waved his bright blue blade, motioning to his friend that now was indeed the time to run. Cal pulled open the cell that had held him captive for these last three days. As he did, a wave of nerves crashed over him, bringing his senses to life in the wake of their shockingly cold aftermath. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever might befall him, then quietly exited the prison hold and moved against the wall, low and as inconspicuously as he could manage.
The sounds and noises of the stronghold grew louder as Cal crept further and further away from the prison door. Most of the activity revolved around the departure of the Determination, so there was little time and little thought given to guarding the rogue groomsman who was thought to be helplessly imprisoned and awaiting his deportation.
"Deryn!" Cal shouted in a whisper, praying that none would wander close and hear him. "What do you see? Gvidus said he would be waiting by the well. Do you see him? Is it safe?"
The small Sprite flew up once again to survey the colony, and as he did Cal heard the laughter of the large-bellied woodcutter as he drew up bucket after bucket of cool water and clumsily poured them into the larger barrels there in his ox cart.
"I hear him!" Cal said. "He can't be more than half a hundred paces from here."
"Indeed, he is there," Deryn agreed as he settled back into Cal's cloak. "But he is not alone."
"Well then, we will wait 'til he is, and I will walk right up to the back of his cart and hide myself amongst the water barrels," Cal reasoned.
"I am afraid that it will not be as simple as that, my friend," Deryn said gravely. "Tahd and three of his guardsmen are walking this way from across the square. Waiting is not advisable."
Cal thought on it for a moment before he spoke. "Then we must be smart about it. Come on now," he said as he turned around and ran towards the open entrance of the granary. "I have an idea!"
He disappeared into a darkened storeroom and searched the shelves and stockpiles of barrels and burlap until he found what he was looking for. Cal enthusiastically grabbed a large, empty wooden barrel and held it in such a way that it covered most of his face. "This way it will look as if I am but helping my large-bellied brother finish the arduous task of gathering water for the day's work."
"This seems much riskier than I would deem prudent, Cal. But as I do not have a better idea, I suppose you had better be about your task quickly," Deryn agreed. "If the plan fails, I shall do my best to protect you."
Cal smiled a mischievous smile. "Very well, my Sprite guardian." And with that he lifted the large barrel, holding it out in front of him. Deryn flew down into the barrel and hid concealed inside its wooden walls, sword drawn and at the ready. The two of them made their way slowly and deliberately toward the stone well, acting as if they were merely about their assignment and all the while praying that no one would pay them any mind at all.
As they approached the well, Cal could make out the sound of multiple voices. He did not want to risk looking up and over the barrel, exposing his true identity to whomever it was that conversed with Gvidus.
"Deryn, can you see who it is there with Gvidus?" Cal whispered.
"I cannot see a thing!" The Sprite's voice echoed in the wooden chamber. "There are no cracks or holes for me to spy from."
"Let us pray that it is no one too keen, huh?" Cal replied, attempting to hide the nervousness in his tone.
Cal was not more than ten paces from the well when he heard the unwelcome sound of a familiar voice. "More barrels? You and your lazy brothers are going to drink this damned well dry before you'll have done half-day's work!" the angry voice growled at the large woodcutter.
"You have never swung an axe, have you?" Gvidus shot back with a bravely belligerent tone. "It takes a mighty large draught of water to quench the thirst that is worked up from felling timber. I'd show you how it's done ... but you would need to have both arms to be any good at it. I wouldn't want to see you miss and cut off your leg too!" he said with a sarcastic laugh.
"Listen here, you fat old boar!" the livid knight yelled. "I've felled a hundred angry outliers with my sword, and they had blades of their own with bloody intentions for my neck. I am sure that I could manage to knock over a few sticks and twigs that have no defense at all!"
"Pyrrhus!" Cal nervously whispered into the barrel.
"Well, come on then," Gvidus said as he noticed a familiar pair of legs sticking out from underneath a large, empty barrel that was walking towards the well. "I've got a blade of my own right here in this ox cart. I would like to see how the brilliant fire knight does with a double-sided axe, now that ... " Gvidus looked to the bandaged and bloodstained stump of a forearm so as to emphasis his insult. "Now that he's half as bright as he used to be."
Pyrrhus pressed close to the large-bellied northman. His oily face caught and reflected the flames of the nearby watch fires, and his sour breath was hot and feverish so close to Gvidus' face. "Do not mistake my wounded arm for weakened resolve, woodcutter. I will tame this Wreath, for the glory of my governor and for the light of my city. If I have to fell every Wreather, every fat-bellied bastard and every damned fool of a groomsman that crosses my way, then so be it! Arm or no arm, mind that I am a knight of the Priest King's cavalry."
"Aye, and I am a woodcutter who fells the trees and fuels the flames of your ill-sought glory." Gvidus sucked his teeth with pious satisfaction. "And if I don't get about the business of filling these water barrels, that will be the last ship of glory to sail across the black waters. Now, unless the Priest King's knight wants to give me a demonstration in one-armed axe wielding," Gvidus said with an exaggerated display of his hands, "my brother and I have some water to draw."
Cal had done his best to stay far enough away from the conversation so as to not draw unwarranted attention, but he knew his loitering was sure draw attention itself soon enough. Gvidus, sensing the duel of prides was coming to a close, acknowledged his presence so as to punctuate the dramatics with a closing.
Pyrrhus eyed the young man carrying the barrel with great suspicion. His temper was already blazing hot at the irreverent insolence of the woodcutter, and a new target had now entered his presence. He was just about to deliver a violent lashing of hate-filled words when the brass horns of the governor rang in the dark morning air. "Get out of my way, water-maiden," the fire knight grumbled as he shoved the barrel-carrying woodcutter to his knees.
Panic washed over Cal as he lost his grip on the large, wooden water barrel. It fell to the ground and rolled a few feet from his position. Walk away ... just walk away, he prayed silently. He stayed on his knees on the dusty earth, averting his face from the knight who was standing over him. In the darkness of the Wreath his features were not easily recognizable, but he knew if a flame was brought near or if his voice were heard, all would be lost.
"There is no cause for that now," Gvidus chided Pyrrhus. "You go, heed the bright brass that calls you, and let us woodcutters heed our own calling."
Pyrrhus towered over the kneeling woodcutter, a furious snarl curled on his bearded lips. "You should show some homage to the knights who
guard this wilderness, water-maiden!"
Cal stayed frozen, afraid to even respond, willing this dog of a knight to leave him be. His mind raced for a means of escape or attack, but he could think of nothing that would not bring too great a risk to his calling yet again.
"What do you say, twig?" Pyrrhus goaded, but Cal remained silent, his face cloaked by the darkness. "What do you say?!" the fire knight screamed and drew his blade in an emasculated rage. "Answer me, woodcutter!"
The groomsman's breath came fast and heavy, and the hair on the back of his neck prickled at the touch of a sharpened steel point resting just below his unprotected shoulder blade.
"That's enough!" Gvidus shouted. "Save your anger for the real enemy that hides in the shadows of the Wreath, not one of our own!"
"I'll run you both through if that's what it takes to teach some order in this godforsaken colony!" Pyrrhus seethed.
The brass chorus cut the nearly fatal tension with their insistent beckoning. Pyrrhus, hearing the call of his master for a second time, sheathed his steal with a slam and a curse, striding off angrily towards the center of the stronghold like a petulant child.
Cal exhaled a desperately held breath as relief replaced the gravity of the moment. "Is he gone?" he whispered to Gvidus.
"Aye brother, he is," the large man replied.
Cal stood to his feet and dusted himself off before he retrieved the water barrel that had rolled away. "Come on then, I would prefer to not have that kind of encounter a second time," he said.
"Aye, prudence won over passion this time, and I doubt you would have a second chance at the same outcome," Gvidus agreed. "Come on, into the back of my cart with you. When they find that you are no longer behind iron, I want to be as far from these timber walls as I can."
Cal nodded his agreement and climbed into the back of the ox cart. He hid behind the barrels and covered himself with sackcloth while Gvidus shifted the other barrels so as to camouflage his rogue cargo. The large woodcutter climbed atop the driver's bench, and as he did the whole cart swayed and shifted, causing water to slosh from the tops of the open barrels. "You might get a bit wet back there, brother," Gvidus said as he cracked the reigns and urged the oxen onward. "But don't worry, provision enough has already been made for you. Once you're free, you'll have all the time in the world to be dry."
Gvidus sang an old timber song as the twin oxen strode deliberately through the square of the colony and out past the timber gates of the stronghold.
Oh mighty birch and mighty elm,
Oh stately pine and oak
Be not dismayed, nor even afraid,
Of our amber fire and smoke.
You mighty giants tall and green,
With leaf and fur and needle
Will light the night with your sacrifice,
Bringing peace to all our people.
"I thought for sure I was dead, Deryn," Cal whispered to his Sprite friend. "I thought his vengeance would be taken right then and there, and that-"
"I know you did, Cal," Deryn whispered.
"Did you not fear as well?" Cal asked, confused by his seemingly nonchalant reply.
"No, I did not," said the blue-winged guardian.
Cal thought on his tiny friend's words in silent contemplation as the cart bumped and rolled along the rooted and rough roads of the timber trails. Many silent moments passed before he spoke again.
"Why? Why were you not afraid, Deryn?" he asked in earnest. "Was it because you were ready to fell Pyrrhus yourself?"
Deryn let the words linger there in the stifled air beneath the wet burlap that concealed them. "No. Though if our Great Father had deemed it necessary, I would have indeed slain the fire knight."
"What, then?" Cal asked impatiently. "What gave you cause for such disproportionate peace? If I am honest ... I have never been more scared in my whole life."
"Do you think that our Great Father, who pulled you out of the river, who called you deep into the heart of the Hilgari, who gave the mighty blade Gwarwyn, and drew you across the black waters of the Dark Sea ... do you think He would let you perish on the dirty ground at the hand of a short-sighted barbarian without first helping you complete the task which HE called you to?"
Cal thought on it for a moment before he spoke. "It is hard to remember the voice of providence when the pointed fangs of death nip at the nape of your neck. It is harder still when those fangs are there because of your own folly. But perhaps ... perhaps you are right, my wise little friend." Cal smiled at the nonsensical confidence of this Sprite companion of his. "No, I don't suppose that He would."
"Neither do I, Cal," Deryn said comfortingly.
They rode in the heavy, hopeful silence, their thoughts in step with the clomps of the laboring oxen.
"But what if I fall? I mean, I have already fallen. I have already gone and made matters worse more than once. What then?" Cal's voice shook a bit in the asking. "Wouldn't He rather use someone else?"
"Our Great Father will use all—the upright and the fallen, the steadfast and the stumbling—if they but desire to be used by Him. For my kind has always believed that it is the humility of one's will and the readiness of one's heart, not merely the rightness of one's deeds, that makes one worthy of the greatest callings."
Cal swallowed around the lump in his throat. "It is harder than I anticipated," he finally said.
"He is not surprised," Deryn told him. "The Oweles told you so, that day upon the deck of the ship. Redemption is a complicated story … just look at this darkened world about us. But its beginning was written long before us, dear groomsman, and its twists and turns will be what will make it worth the telling."
The Sprite's voice held a confidence that nearly undid the heart of the groomsman.
"I will not fear the snarling dogs who bark and bare their weak teeth at us, for I do not believe that their bite will ever be enough to destroy us. Their power lies only in their ability to scare or discourage us, and that is a power that only we can give them."
Cal laughed a whispered laugh. "He is a dog, that Pyrrhus, isn't he? And the worst kind at that."
"Yes, indeed he is," Deryn replied.
Chapter Thirty-One
THE WOODCUTTERS OF THE FIRST colony had made light work of the surrounding wilderness. Though their number was barely forty strong, their axes were thirsty and their swing was fueled with a great urgency, both for their calling and for their fellow kinsman. And so it was that the mighty forestlands of the Wreath began to yield to the double-bladed vigor of the woodcutters.
Yasen watched the line nervously, for he did not wholly trust the eerie calm of these mammoth trees. His senses were heightened enough with the aim to protect his men, but all the more so as he waited anxiously for news of Gvidus and his groomsman brother. Yasen's large, black Friesian paced the line of woodcutters, retracing his own steps over and over again as he sensed the unease of his master.
"What's the matter with you, North Wolf?" asked Oren, a tall, yellow-bearded man.
"Aye!" chimed his twin brother, Alon. "Why don't you stop your pacing and put blade to birch so you can work out whatever it is that has you in such a knot!"
"My brother is right, you know!" Oren agreed. "There is not much that can be mended fretting the way you are. Put your mind to rest and put your back to some work!"
"I am not fretting, and my mind is right where it needs to be," Yasen argued unconvincingly. "Today the Determination sails for Haven, but my bones tell me that something about today feels fragile, like a young limb about to snap." His eyes had a distant look as he spoke the words, staring back towards the fire-lit stronghold in the eastern distance.
Oren and Alon looked curiously at each other, each searching the other's face for the faintest hint of understanding. "Alright then, have it as you like, Chieftain." Oren shrugged as he picked up his doubled-bladed axe and began to bite away at the massive pine that towered high above him.
Alon stood there, still watching his chieftain, and
suddenly the greater dread that masqueraded as worry occurred to him. "You know what I think?" he asked Yasen in a kind tone.
"I have a feeling you're about to tell me," Yasen grumbled.
"I think that Cal will be just fine, North Wolf," Alon said matter-of-factly.
Yasen turned his head back to look at his fellow woodcutter. His darkly bearded jaw was set, but his eyes betrayed his true fear.
"Aye," Alon continued. "The lad has survived far worse than a little exile." He then picked back up his axe and turned to face the same pine that his brother was expertly working on. "Besides, I doubt that the THREE who is SEVEN is quite finished with him yet."
"What makes you say that?" Yasen said guardedly.
"Because his silver horse is right over there, packed and ready," Alon laughed as he buried his blade deep into the white flesh of the massive tree. "And I don't suspect that He is a wasteful deity."
As he spoke, the faint sounds of the governor's horns echoed off the dark morning air, causing the mouth of the mighty North Wolf to go dry in worried anticipation.
"I need a drink," Yasen half-mumbled under his breath.
"Well, asketh and ye shall receiveth, or however it goes," Alon chuckled. "I think I see the lights from Gvidus' ox-cart coming up the hill. And that fat old boar better have those barrels full to the top this time!"
Relief washed over Yasen's face as he saw the two swinging lanterns swaying from the rumble of the water laden cart, not a few hundred paces below him at the bottom of the gently sloping hill.
"Asketh indeed," Yasen said less anxiously. "That water will do my soul a great bit of good."
"Your soul, eh?" Alon said with a knowing look.
Just then the horns rang out again, bright and hurried, angrily raising the alarm from within the fortifications of the colony.
Yasen wheeled his black Friesian around to face the brothers. "I fear that the limb I spoke of has just snapped, comrades. Keep a sharp eye about you, and an even sharper blade," he said as he rubbed at his worried face. "You never know which one you may need first."
The Ravenous Siege (Epic of Haven Trilogy Book 2) Page 28