by RG Long
But there was still work to do and everything had to be perfect.
The pair had traveled from Conny to Talgel at Androlion's request. The wheels of several different plans were all turning at once.
"Everything must be precise," Androlion had told Rayg. "Our timing must be flawless if this salvation is to truly occur in its fullest extent."
Rayg agreed. Salvation was indeed coming.
Wessel and he had walked the entire city once over. They had seen the men cutting down the trees with saw and ax. The wood was then made into planks and carried to the docks. Huge scaffolding had been constructed so that several parts of one boat could be made at once. Speakers aided the workers in lifting the heavy wood, holding them in place while they were fastened with nails.
The plan was unfolding just as Androlion had wished. Rayg's own plans were coming to fruition as well.
"Take note of this, weasel," Rayg began.
Wessel procured from his robes a quill, a small board, and a piece of parchment to take notes.
"Ship production ahead of schedule. Thirty ships shall be ready to sail in a fortnight. Begin gathering troops and prepare them to set sail. I will personally deliver the first shift after it is completed."
Rayg looked down at the scribe as he scribbled away on his paper.
"That will suffice for the time being," he said as he turned his back on the shipbuilders and began to walk east.
"Wait a moment! Wait!" Wessel said as he tried to follow Rayg, still writing on his parchment. "Shouldn't we be a bit more detailed?"
Rayg turned so quickly on him that before Wessel knew he was in danger, it was too late. Rayg lifted him three feet into the air by his throat.
"If you see fit to count pieces of wood and number of nails, be my guest," he spat at him. "You have a full month to write whatever you see fit. I have other matters to attend to."
Rayg dropped Wessel on the ground and spun on his heel, walking away from the crumbled man on the ground.
He heard him gasping for breath behind him. It was a pity he wasn't quite dead.
Rayg pointed to a squad of soldiers.
"Ten of you, with me," he barked. "The rest, make sure things stay ahead of schedule. I will return in three weeks."
Rayg climbed onto his horse. It wore the same black armor that adorned him. It was a strong and terrifying looking beast with its battle gear on.
"Have my ship ready."
Rayg stalked off with ten soldiers behind him.
It was time to ensure that the goblins were keeping their end of the bargain.
21: Family
Ealrin was glad to finally be on the other side of Mountain Gate.
Fray and Susan had met together for only a moment of choice words directed to one another before their paperwork was completed. It turns out the old leader of the Red Guard was more than happy to get rid of the group that brought with them bad luck, regardless of whether it kept Beaton safe or not.
Marty had been right, though the innkeeper did shed a tear knowing that his last guests for the next month or so would be leaving.
In the end, the process only took an hour for all eight of them. The idea that it could have taken less time infuriated Lote to no end.
"I can't believe we wasted all that time just to sign a paper," she said as they walked along the road that would lead them to the capital city.
"If this is how all of this country handles its affairs, I’ll put my trust in dwarves before I have high hopes for a man again!"
"She's talking about you, Shorty," Tory said as he slapped Gorplin on his shoulder.
Gorplin snorted, but held his tongue.
He was finally learning that Lote could hear whatever insult he decided to mutter under his breath.
Ealrin was glad to be making progress again. He thought they would be able to make the journey from Thoran to Beaton in three weeks’ time.
So far they had already spent three weeks and had just now crossed the border.
There was still a lot of road ahead of them.
***
RIGHT UP TO MOUNTAIN Gate on the eastern side, the green forest of Thoran grew proudly. Now that they were heading west, it was like the trees had no desire to follow them any further. All that stretched before them were rolling hills and tall grasses.
Ealrin could see for miles ahead and, looking back, could still make out the tiny wall in the distance that had hindered their progress so far.
The rest of their travels that day were uneventful. They continued to walk well after sunset, only stopping once Lote decided they had put enough distance between them and the border city. They arranged their packs in a circle and lit a small fire.
Gaflion consulted a map he had brought along and informed the group there was a two-week hike until they arrived in the enormous city.
Two more weeks until they were to come to Beaton and begin to convince them that Thoran needed aid and needed it quickly.
Ealrin hoped they had left in time.
Jurgon prepared an excellent meal from the provisions they had purchased in Mountain Gate. The bread that was made for the journey was still moist and the meat from the fire was especially delicious.
“I must say, those Mountain Gate folk sure know how to salt a ham!” Jurrin said again and again as he ate his dinner, most pleased with his friend's work.
Jurgon knew how to cook and the entire company benefited from his experience. Ealrin was trying to pick up everything he could from the master chef, who also was a self-trained Speaker.
“Nope,” Jurgon said as he saw Ealrin take over the spit.
“Don't turn it that way!” Jurrin told him, speaking on behalf of his friend. “You'll never get the edges cooked before the middle burns.”
Oh well, Ealrin thought. I can learn by watching.
He sat back and enjoyed his own bread and meat and enjoyed the view of the stars above him.
Ealrin and Bertrom were first watch that night. As the fire burned low, the soft wind of the plains lulled most of them to sleep. After successfully crossing the gate, everyone felt accomplished and ready for the trek to Beaton. They all looked like they were enjoying their night's rest to Ealrin. Even Gorplin's snoring wasn't as loud as usual.
“Think they're all asleep?” Bertrom asked in a quiet voice. He had been pacing around the camp, looking out beyond the light of the fire to the plains that surrounded them.
“I doubt Lote is, though she puts on a good front,” Ealrin said as he looked over at the elf. She slept on her side, one hand on her bow and another on an arrow. Ever the constant warrior. Her chest rose and fell evenly, but Ealrin wasn't quite convinced she was all the way asleep. Something about traveling this far with her told him she could be very alert at any moment, if needed.
“I wasn't brave back there,” Bertrom said as he stared into the fire.
“What?” Ealrin asked, brought back to the fire and his night's watch. “When?”
He looked over at the young soldier and saw a serious expression on his typically jovial face. Bertrom sat by the fire, sword still in hand. He tapped it lightly on the ground.
“When we fought the troll on the Thoran side of the gate,” he continued. Ealrin sat back against his pack. He could tell by looking at Bertrom that this had been weighing on his mind. Throughout their stay in Mountain Gate, he had been uncharacteristically quiet and moody.
“You all went head first into that fight. I just froze up.”
Ealrin remembered having to shove him out of harm’s way. In the moment, he hadn't thought much of it. He was just trying to protect the young man from harm.
“None of you even thought for a second. You just reacted. All I could think about was dying. If you hadn't saved me, I would have died anyways.”
He sighed.
“I was pretty useless. Why did Princess Teresa choose me for this? I'm no warrior.”
He picked up a piece of grass and rolled it between his fingers. The pain in Bertrom's voice w
as hard for Ealrin to listen to.
“Weren't you in the battle down south? I heard you tell Teresa that you were,” Ealrin said, trying to find some way to encourage Bertrom.
“That was different,” he answered. “It's one thing to be brave when you're surrounded by a thousand others who are charging with you into the enemy. When I saw that troll, all I could think was 'I can't do this' and I just...”
Bertrom trailed off as he kept staring into the fire's dying light.
“I froze,” he finished. “Ealrin, I think I should go back. I'm no help to you. Even the halflings are useful. They can do magic. I can't even wield a sword without flinching.”
Ealrin had no words of encouragement for him. What was he going to tell him? Ignore the fear? Be brave? This was where Holve would have the words to encourage someone. Ealrin wasn't sure what Bertrom needed to hear.
“You're not like that,” Bertrom continued. “You fought bravely. You went up and faced the troll like it was nothing. How'd you do it?”
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 t
he 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 said, 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.”