Alija tried not to bring up the guards or their behavior, but it was hard to ignore the reason for his confinement. “What are we going to do about them,” he asked when the strain became too much. “If they’re starting this again, we’ll have another revolt, and more good people will die.”
Dalan shrugged. “What can we do? We know what happens when we try to stop them.” He waved to Alija, indicating the green and yellow bruises that still marked his face.
“I don’t know,” Wayra said, staring into the fireplace. “What if…” He trailed off, and Alija waited for him to continue. Wayra had settled back in the plush chair across from Alija’s, his slender form nearly swallowed by the down cushions and his dark hair in contrast to the pale blue upholstery.
“What if what?” Kai asked. Kai was nearly as short as Dalan, but where Dalan was slender and pointy, Kai was muscled and built like a tree trunk. He kept his thick, black beard trimmed, but it fell in a riot of curls to his shirt collar.
Wayra wandered over to the empty fireplace and paused, leaning on the mantle, and stared at the sword mounted to the wall. “We all have swords and spears and daggers and such in our houses, right?”
“Yes, but they’re decorative,” Dalan answered. “They won’t hold up in a fight. That’s how all those people died in the revolt, remember?”
“I know, I know, but hear me out. I’m not suggesting we fight with them. What if we used them to train? We could practice so we know how to handle swords and spears if something happens again.”
A stunned silence stretched until Kai laughed. “It’s actually not a bad idea. We’ll have to be careful, though. Tavan doesn’t want anyone training except his soldiers.”
Dalan shook his head. “Are you sure it’s worth the risk? What do we tell our families? And where do we practice?
“We’ve all watched the soldiers train,” Wayra said, ignoring Dalan’s questions. “So we know the basic drills and moves and such.”
“But where would we practice?” Dalan repeated. “And what about our parents? They’ll notice if we take the weapons off the walls.”
Alija grinned. “I think it’s a great idea. My parents wouldn’t say a word about us learning to defend ourselves. Especially after this.” He pointed to his face. “What about that dark area below the southwest corner of the village? They don’t have a regular guard on that entrance.”
Kai looked uncertain. “I don’t know. Those stairs aren’t maintained. That’s why they don’t have a guard there―—the entrance is crumbling.”
Alija waved. “Hello, remember me? I’m a trained carpenter. I know how to fix a set of stairs.”
“I hate to be the killjoy,” Dalan said, “but there’s still the problem of getting the weapons out of the village, right? It’s not like the guards will look the other way while we carry swords and spears through town.”
No one answered. Alija tried to think of a way to conceal the weapons, and his eyes widened as the realization struck. ” I carry wood around all the time. When we’re doing big repairs, the bundles are so long it takes two or three of us to carry them. We could hide the weapons inside, and I can lower them to the ground during repair details.”
Their voices blended as they made plans. Alija’s grin widened, though it hurt his still-tender cheek, and he stared at the sword mounted above the fireplace. Excitement, joy, and fear warred within him. This would be dangerous, but he wouldn’t allow the guards to treat him like that again.
The next day, Alija pulled the sword down and moved through the poses he’d seen the soldiers use during their warm-ups before their training.
The weapon’s weight surprised him, and his muscles protested after the first couple of poses. This spurred him on——he needed more practice if his arms tired so quickly——and he repeated the exercise several times each day.
He waited until his parents were busy with their work, closed the front curtains, and practiced in the empty den as often as he could.
~*~
As soon as Alija’s bruises disappeared, the men executed their plan. They repaired the southwest entrance without drawing the guards’ attention and smuggled spears and swords out with the lumber. In a few days, they were practicing beneath the quietest corner of the village.
Each morning, Alija worked on the spring repairs throughout the village and in the afternoons met with his friends in the dark beneath the giant Shadow Tree. They improved quickly since they also practiced the poses and stretches in their homes.
“Ouch! You got me that time!” Wayra clutched his hip and dropped his spear. “I know it won’t cut me, but it still hurts. Try not to hit me, will ya?”
Kai grinned. “Sorry. Maybe we should pad the blades a bit. We’re all getting better with our aim.”
“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea,” Wayra said, rubbing the spot where the spear had connected. “What should we use to cushion them?”
Voices carried down from the village above. His heart pounding, Alija raised trembling arms over his head. Kai and Wayra fell silent at his signal and ran to stash their weapons in the bushes.
“I’m telling you, I heard something down there,” a male voice insisted.
“I don’t know,” a deeper voice answered. “Why would anyone be over this way? There’s nothing here.”
Someone activated the mechanism that moved the stairs. Dust rained down as the gears turned, unfolding the lightweight staircase and lowering it gently to the ground. The stairs locked in place against the anchor stones with a soft clack.
Alija gestured for his friend to get away from the bushes where they’d stashed the weapons.
Heavy boots sounded on the stairs, and Alija fought to slow his breathing. Dalan, Wayra, and Kai all lined up beside him in the shadows beside the stairs. They positioned themselves to block the soldiers’ views of the brush behind them.
Sweat beaded on Alija’s lip despite the cool spring breeze, and he swiped at it. He couldn’t look nervous. They had planned for this.
The two guards clomped down the stairs, complaining the whole way.
“I dunno why we haven’t sealed this entrance off,” one said.
“No matter now, we hafta check it,” his comrade replied. “It sure is dark over here.”
The taller man stepped onto the soft ground and turned in a complete circle, stopping when he spotted Alija’s group.
“Hullo, what do we have here?” The tall man rested his hand on his sword and waited for his partner.
The second man stepped into the gloom, and Alija instantly recognized Bakko. He fought the urge to cringe away from the soldier and clasped his hands in front of himself. He glanced to Dalan, who had insisted on speaking for the group if any guards found them.
“Well? What’re you boys doin’ down here?” Bakko repeated. He glared at Alija “You don’t learn, do you?”
Dalan stepped forward. “My father sent us to see if the mushrooms have started coming up yet. They always sprout on this end first.”
The guards shared a look, and the taller soldier turned back to the men. “Why wouldn’t you leave the stairs down if you were just lookin’ for mushrooms?”
“We walked this entire end of the village,” Dalan explained, squaring his shoulders. “We couldn’t leave the entrance unattended while we couldn’t keep an eye on it.”
Bakko squinted into the darkness beyond the line of men. “Didja find any? Those mushrooms are my favorite.”
“No,” Dalan said. “It’s still too early. We’ll check again in a few days. We should head back home. My father’s expecting me to help him with some tinctures this afternoon.”
Alija’s knees went weak with relief when the guards stepped toward the stairs, waving Dalan ahead of them. Dalan had a foot on the bottom step when the tall guard stopped to stare into the dimness once more.
“Wait a minute. I think I see something.” The soldier stepped toward the bushes where Kai and Wayra had hidden their weapons.
“What is
it? Mushrooms?” Bakko rushed ahead of his friend and knelt by the brush.
Alija’s breath caught in his throat, and his mind blanked in terror when the guard stood, Wayra’s spear clutched in his hand.
“What’s going on here?” He tossed the spear toward the stairs and knelt again, rummaging beneath the undergrowth. In seconds, he had found all the other weapons.
The tall guard grabbed the back of Dalan’s shirt and dragged him backward, toward the exposed contraband.
“Mushrooms, huh? Must be some big mushrooms you’re hunting if you need these.” He shoved Dalan forward and he stumbled, landing face-down in the dirt.
Kai rushed over and helped him up, which left the group split into pairs.
A wave of helplessness washed over Alija when the tall man pulled a coil of rope from his pocket and bound Dalan’s and Kai’s wrists behind their backs. The wave became a tsunami as Bakko grabbed his arms. He made a point of tugging at the rope as he bound Alija’s hands, forcing the joints to move in ways they’re not meant to.
“You’re making this easier than I expected,” Bakko said, chuckling. “Now Tavan’ll kill you and your friends, and I’ll be rid of you for good.”
Once they were all bound, the guards pushed the friends toward the stairs. Alija moved slowly, afraid of tripping with his hands tied. The rough rope dug into his skin, aching and burning when he moved.
No one spoke. They had been caught; nothing could undo that. The guards would take them to Tavan, who would determine their punishment. Alija hoped Bakko was wrong, and Tavan wouldn’t execute them all, though he’d killed men for far less.
6
Hearing
Alija took a deep, steadying breath and followed Dalan into the large building, known as the Meeting Hall at the center of the Square. It sat in the Pavilion’s shadow, low and sprawling. Citizens once held weddings and ceremonies there, but soon after his invasion Tavan had taken it over as his primary place to hold court, hear concerns, and issue dictates in the running of the village.
Bakko swung the broad, wooden door open and shoved Alija through. “Come on.”
There Tavan sat behind a long table. Rows of chairs faced the table at the front, providing enough seating for every citizen of Nivaka to fit in the cavernous space. Only a few villagers occupied their assigned seats for that afternoon’s scheduled session. They turned toward the commotion at the door and watched with curious expressions as Alija and his friends entered.
At the front of the room, Tavan cut off his conversation with a group of citizens and stood. His already ruddy face darkened as he took in the bound men. “What is the meaning of this?”
Bakko maneuvered past the prisoners and approached the low rail that separated Tavan’s table from the civilian’s seats. “I’m sorry to interrupt, sir, but we caught these men with swords and spears beneath the village.”
Dalan continued to the front of the room, and Alija followed. They stopped shoulder to shoulder at the rail.
“I see.” Tavan seated himself and leaned across the table. “And did you see them using those weapons?”
“No, sir. They had ’em hidden in the bushes. Claimed they were looking for mushrooms.”
Tavan eyed the group. “And what do you have to say for yourselves?”
Alija cleared his throat, but Dalan stepped forward before he could speak.
“We meant no disrespect, sir.” His voice rang clear and confident. “With the recent quarrels with the groundfolk, we thought it would be wise to make sure we could defend ourselves when we ventured out into the forest for mushroom gathering, and—”
“If you were concerned,” Tavan said, “you should have come to me. It is, in fact, my job to keep you safe while you find food for the village.”
Dalan dropped his gaze to the floor. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry sir. We didn’t want to bother you. I know how busy you are.”
“Well, you’re bothering me now, aren’t you?” Tavan stood and rounded the table, stopping in front of the rail. “I’ll tell you what. You’re obviously smart and brave enough to figure out how to get your weapons down there without being caught. You could be an asset to our organization.” He leaned over the rail, his face inches from Dalan’s. Alija fought the urge to gag on the man’s rotten breath. “If you and your friends agree to join Helak’s army and help keep this village secure, you’ll face no punishment for this behavior.”
Ice poured through Alija’s veins at the offer. Nothing could ever convince him to join these vile soldiers in their mission to oppress his friends and family.
Dalan raised his head and met Tavan’s gaze. “With all due respect, sir, I’m training to take my father’s place as the healer for this village someday. I cannot join your army.”
The governor’s face flushed scarlet, but he turned away from Dalan. “And the rest of you?”
Alija cleared his throat. “I’m afraid I cannot join your army, either. My father needs me to help with the spring repairs and village maintenance. I’m sorry, sir.”
Wayra shook his head before Tavan could ask him, so the governor looked to Kai.
“Umm…” Kai gulped audibly and tried again. “No… I won’t join you.”
“None of you, then?” Tavan straightened and strode back to his table. “Well, I’m going to remind you that under Helak’s law, only my soldiers are allowed to train with weapons. I’ll give you one hour to reconsider.” He waved to the guards who had gathered behind Alija’s group.
“Take them to the jail and keep them separated. Don’t let them encourage each other.” He dismissed them with a flick of his hand, dropped into his chair, and waved for the serving girl to refill his cup.
Two guards grabbed Alija’s arms and dragged him down the aisle. He struggled to keep his feet beneath him, but the soldiers’ heads barely reached his shoulder, and they pulled him down, so they could reach. He hung his head as they yanked him out into the blinding afternoon sun and through the gathered crowd.
~*~
By the time the group reached the large house Tavan used as the jail, Alija’s knees ached from bouncing and scraping over the boardwalks. The soldiers dragged him into the house and threw him to the floor. His cheek hit the wood, and a white-hot pain shot through his head. When his vision cleared, he struggled to his knees and then feet, shaking off the guards’ attempts to help.
The soldiers led him down a long hall but took the others a different way. Alija glanced back, trying to see Dalan, Wayra, or Kai, but Bakko shoved him forward. He stumbled again but kept his feet. They led him to a tiny cell at the end of the hall and waved him in.
“Can you untie my wrists, since I’ll be locked up anyway?” he asked, turning his back to the guards.
“No,” Bakko answered with a laugh. “You won’t be here long. We’ll see the gov’nor again in an hour.” He slammed the heavy door, rattling its barred window.
Alija sat on the narrow bench along the far wall, wondering what the rest of the day would hold. He didn’t have long to think on the matter before the guards dragged something across the bars, the clanging noise jarring Alija to the moment.
“So, ya gonna ‘gree ta join us, right?” The guard laughed, the sound devoid of humor and echoing with cruelty.
“We’d love to have ya with us,” Bakko agreed.
Alija bit the side of his cheek to keep from answering. He didn’t want to encourage them.
“You know you’re gonna cave, right? No one says ‘no’ to Tavan.”
“At least not if they want to live through the day,” Bakko added.
He refused to take the bait and chewed the inside of his cheek to keep from talking back. *Surely, they won’t keep this up for the entire hour. He worried a loose string on his sleeve.
“You know, we don’t hafta stay here the whole hour. When you decide to join us, we’ll go back, and you can beg Tavan for mercy.”
A wave of nausea rolled over him at the thought, and Alija grimaced, glad he couldn’t see the guar
ds through the door.
I’ll never beg that vile man for anything. He shook his head and dropped his gaze to the floor, determined to distract himself from their taunting. The bare wood didn’t offer much for diversions, but Alija counted the boards from left to right. The guards continued shouting into the room, but he refused to listen to the words, and the taunts faded into the background. Or they stopped. But either way Alija’s thoughts focused elsewhere.
He thought of Dalan, of his determination when they had faced Tavan in the Meeting Hall. He knew Dalan’s father had trained him to be strong and firm, in preparation to someday take on the Gadonu’s role, but that strength reassured him. If Dalan could stand tall in the face of the governor’s threats, Alija would, too.
The door clanged open.
“Didja hear me?” Bakko shouted, red-faced. “I said it’s time to go. Get up!”
Dread settled in Alija’s gut, a sickening knot twisting inside him.
He can’t execute us all, he rationalized. Something like that would cause a riot, maybe even a revolt. Somehow, the thought didn’t comfort him in the least. He blanked his mind and followed the shorter guard down the hall. The other walked beside Alija, one hand on the cord at his wrists.
7
Help
Ahren watched, mouth agape, as soldiers dragged her brother and his friends from the meeting hall. Moments later, the double doors flung open and villagers filed out. Desperate for information, she searched the crowd for a friendly face——anyone she trusted to tell her what was happening.
Tears filled her eyes when she spotted Zyana, her long chestnut hair blowing in the breeze, revealing the freckles dusting her nose and cheeks. Ahren ran to her friend and grabbed her arm.
“What happened?” Ahren glanced around and pulled Zyana away from the crowd. She looked around again make sure no one had followed and lowered her voice. “Did they get caught?”
Tears welled in Zyana’s eyes. She nodded. “Yes. Tavan’s trying to convince them to join his army. They all refused, and now he’s having them dragged off to ‘think about it’ for an hour. He’s called a recess until then.”
Freeing Nivaka Page 3