The King's Tribe

by Kai Widdeson

  My mind side-tracks to one particular morning.

  It was a few months after the berry incident, and I was now used to Randall returning to the village a couple of hours early in the afternoon to retrieve me and teach me about trapping at the forest edge or by the stream. It was always just the two of us, him explaining and me listening intently. At first, I got the sense that he was doing all of this to help me protect myself, but after a while he genuinely began to enjoy it.

  Every now and then I would get slightly injured and my mum, disapproving, would accuse Randall for mistaking me as his fallen brother and remind him that I was still a boy. This only spurred me on further. I barely knew my father, but if he’s anything like the stories Randall told as we fished then that was fine by me.

  I keep asking Randall every so often when I can join the other hunters, always he would tell me to wait until I came of age and then I could decide what I wanted to do.

  My heartstrings ache slightly as I realise my dream of returning to Avlym and becoming a hunter may likely never happen. I will come of age in just a few months, but that won’t make a difference if I have been branded a traitor.

  One day I get sick of waiting. Rising at the edge of dawn, I slip outside past my still sleeping mother. I spot Randall and the other hunters disappearing into the treeline and I move to follow them.

  I track them just like Randall taught me, thankfully they’re also talking ever so softly which I use occasionally to guide me back onto the right track. I doubt I’ll reveal myself to them, I don’t want to make Randall angry, but I’m fascinated to watch them work and I fantasize about stepping into a grand entrance.

  I envision myself outrunning the lot of them to chase down a boar and awaiting their surprise and impressed faces as they finally catch up and see me there with the haul of the day. Returning to the village not to a disapproving mother but a proud one, as she begins to prepare a feast of my making.

  I start falling.

  In my dream state I’ve stopped paying attention and the ground crumbles beneath me as I tumble into the pit trap. Loose dirt, leaves, and branches falling to bury me. There’s no way the hunters wouldn’t have noticed the noise of such a large prey tumbling into one of their traps from such a short way away.

  Sure enough, I have only just finished clawing my way out of the hole, brushing spiders and ants out of the dust heap that used to be my hair, when Randall and Devin appear above and help me to my feet.

  A disgruntled Devin begins resetting the trap as I await Randall’s fury. It never comes. Instead he resigns to letting me shadow him that day, on the promise that I wouldn’t follow the hunters again. As proud as he was for my enthusiasm, my being in the depths of the forest without his knowledge had scared him to death. In hindsight, I realise he would have never forgiven himself if anything had happened to me. I am almost ashamed of myself, for running into the forest like I had when so many others my age had gone missing. But then again, you can’t resign yourself to fearing the forest when it surrounds you every day.

  That evening we stealthily come out of the trees when confident that nobody would spot us. To my relief, Randall was even more anxious than me about my mum finding out, and so it was after a hearty goodbye to the others, consisting of much friendly laughter at my appearance, that we duck behind Bruce’s farmhouse. He sloshes water over me, removing any evidence of my adventures before we sit to watch the sunset as I dry, enjoying the view whilst coming up with a plausible story for what I had spent the day doing should my mum ask.

  It is quite possibly the happiest I remember being. Whilst the story satisfied my mum, her suspicion was raised several times when she caught me hours later, still contently smiling as I relived the sunset.

  I stop abruptly and not by my own choice, waking me from my recollections as I find myself subconsciously tracing the long white line on my forearm, still here after so many years. Curiously my head and legs are still trying to move forwards, but my torso is disobeying. Edwyn’s bear-like paws have stopped us from continuing any further. Sensing our confusion, he snaps around to us with a sharp look silencing any questions rising. I look over the broad shoulders between myself and Guy to see the young prince also now alert of some presence still unknown to me. They both scan the valley, ears pricked up and knees slightly bent, white knuckles grip bows and knives.

  I slowly reach under the rough fabric to the cold steel that has been pressing against my hip for the last few hours of walking. The other two have both edged in front of me and so thankfully have missed the action. I will protect myself if I need to but if this is a false alarm it would still be much better to keep the blade hidden. We’re not at the trusting stage just yet, and besides, I haven’t even met their people, after being attacked and usurped from their homes they may not be as open to unfamiliar faces as Guy assumes.

  TWANG.

  My chin smashes into the dirt and I feel a little of my cheek come loose as my teeth snap shut on impact. Yells and a charge of footsteps off to my left, a different set of boots scuff the dirt into my eyes. Watering, I can just make out Edwyn above, or rather the absence of everything else, his enormous shadow casting down on me blocking out all apart from the faintest reaches of the setting sun. An arrow protrudes from his side, a bloody river already beginning to trickle downwards, tiny droplets impact the dirt inches away from me.

  He saved me.

  That arrow had been destined for a different target, I should be on the floor now, ready to welcome the darkness, instead the behemoth above me is swapping his bow in favour for a couple of foot-long wicked looking blades. A deep guttering growl accompanies his now animalistic features. It’s a miracle he can still stand, let alone ready his weapons, and without further hesitation, the hunter bounds over me and rushes to meet our assailants.

  I whip out the knife now rising to my feet only to be hoisted for the last few inches as Guy grabs me by the arm pulling me towards the fray. We stumble after Edwyn who has already engaged the enemy.

  Three men dart around Edwyn as we approach, he keeps them at bay, dodging and swinging whenever they try to advance. Thankfully he has the longest reach and it's too risky for any of the men to risk getting too close to the injured hunter. He manages to catch one’s leg and there’s a rustle of clinks as he falls to the ground, his sword relinquished from its owner’s grip. Each man is heavily armoured but even protected by the metal I know that Edwyn’s connections must carry a painful blow.

  Guy has reached the one nearest us now, nimbly leaping onto the man’s back and plunging a spearhead into the crevice of his neck. The man tries to swing behind him with the sword, but the movement is awkward and Guy has already departed. The man is left to emit a gurgling scream, alerting the other two that the odds are now against them. As Guy moves to end the man’s suffering, Edwyn heads towards the last man standing.

  “DUCK!” I cry, all these attackers had swords and I only now notice the archer many meters above us silhouetted against the sky on the looming clifftop. I am almost too late, Edwyn only narrowly avoiding the incoming projectile. He turns to me as he easily cuts down his opponents before his eyes widen and teeth grit, crumpling moment later to the dirt. One of the fallen soldiers has reclaimed his sword and thrust it through the giant’s calf in one last effort. As Edwyn falls to the ground, another arrow from above sails harmlessly over his head. Victoriously, the swordsman rises to his feet to greet me.

  “EDWYN!” Guy launches his spear with shocking force from behind and I flinch as I watch the shaft reappear out of the soldier’s midriff, felling the last of our attackers. The heir rushes towards our protector’s side, pressing against the wound to try and halt the steady stream pooling around him.

  I hurry to his side also, but with different intentions. The archer is likely notching his next arrow and after grabbing one of the injured man’s arms and attempting to heave the man towards the safety of some nearby boulders, Guy realises the situation and follows.

  A shar
p nip catches my ear as feathers burn my face, the archer’s latest attempt leaving a long mark down my cheek. We strain faster against the hunter’s enormous weight, eventually reaching the protection of the rocks. We’re out of sight for now, but we can’t stay pinned down like this for long.

  “What now?” I gasp as I tuck Edwyn’s legs firmly out of sight. I’m lost as to how we’re going to make our way out of this, we cower behind a lone patch of boulders, all ways out will mean moving into the open.

  “We wait, the sun will be down before long and then maybe we can move. Stay at the edges in case there are any more of them.” Guy replies

  “But what about him? We can’t drag him with us, and we don’t even know where we’re going.”

  “Go,” Edwyn rasps. We both look down at the wounded man before us. I’m a little surprised to see life still behind those eyes, his bare skin now sweaty, and pale, contrasting with the deep red blood gushing from his side and calf. The soldier cut him deep.

  “No, we’re not leaving-” Guy is cut short.

  “There’s an opening not much further. Please. Just-” Now it’s Edwyn’s turn to pause, the dying man is staring off into the distance. For a second, I wonder if he has passed and now stares off into the nothingness, but no, there is still intelligence behind that gaze, flickering feebly. We turn to face the attraction.

  Lights.

  There’s nowhere we can go, and they’re heading right towards us. I shove my knife back into my waistband and roll Edwyn onto his side to unsheathe one of his larger blades, similarly Guy recovers his spear from the dying man, who is thankfully not too far from our hiding spot, and grips it, ready to emerge.

  They’re almost upon us.

  “Show yourselves!” a voice booms, they’ve stopped perhaps ten meters from where we hide, and they’re facing us directly. Guy looks over and nods, pure steely resolve faces me.

  He nimbly leaps over the top of the boulder and charges spear in hand. Our battle cries join in unison, and we charge together.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The fight, if it could still be called a fight, lasts mere seconds. I thrust towards the first of them, only to be casually parried aside into the dirt, next to me Guy leaps into the air bringing the spearhead down on the head of its first victim, who swiftly ducks.

  No. He bows.

  The man was not dodging the blade, or at least if he was, he now has a new objective. He’s on one knee, all of them are I notice. Head bowed before Guy. I warily rise to join his side.

  “My King?” The front man whispers in awe, his face gently illuminated by the flickering torchlight.

  The survivors. We’ve found them. Despite not knowing these people, relief floods through me. I would rather take my chances with the community under Guy’s rule than wander lost in the valley dragging a dying man. I also notice the reverence in their eyes. Clearly Edwyn is an exception and that a more respectful treatment of the royal is normally given.

  I survey the group. Six of them kneel before us, two women and four men, either topless or in some light leather armour, equipped with a collection of spears, bows, and knives. Some of them, I note, have similar swirling green tattoos to Edwyn. All, like Guy, are barefoot.

  “Jaq?” Guy addresses the man at his feet. Together the six rise. Instantly a couple of them head towards the fallen colony men and begin collecting their weapons.

  “We thought you were dead, or worse, that they had you. If we had known-” Jaq starts apologetically.

  “There’s no need, you saved the ones you could. How many of you are there?” Guy asks.

  “Around two hundred, we...we lost everyone else.” Jaq momentarily loses himself. One of the girls takes over, she almost resembles an older, more battle-worn Robyn, her right arm a tapestry of swirling green ink.

  “How though? How did you survive? We saw you being chased off alone and defenceless? And how did you know about us and where we were?” She barely pauses for breath in the onslaught of questions.

  “It’s a long story, and one I’ll share soon, but first we need to get Edwyn help.”

  “Edwyn? Here’s here too?”, we lead them around the boulders and over to Edwyn’s frail form, a long stream of blood flowing through the cracked ground.

  “He found us when hunting, but we were ambushed,” Guy explains. I choose to let him continue with the talking, I watch silently despite the occasional odd glance in my direction.

  “We know, we’ve been following the scouts for a couple of days, when we heard fighting we came as soon as possible,” says Jaq.

  “It’s the third party this week,” A gruff man towards the back of the pack interrupts, “they’re getting closer to our camp each time, they must know we’re in these mountains somewhere. Now they’ll know for certain. We saw the archer that got away, he scampered as soon as he saw us. They’ll be back in numbers before long.”

  Guy briefly looks sickened by himself, acknowledging the possibility of having caused his people more danger. The look is quick though, and masked by the shadows, soon replaced by a strong, more leader-like expression.

  “There are no more for now, but we have to tell the others that they’re coming. Can you take us to them?” a command in the guise of a question.

  Together we set off into the night, Edwyn draped between two of our saviours, constantly flickering in and out of consciousness. As we walk Guy takes the opportunity to question Jaq, hoping for more answers than Edwyn would provide. Jaq is more than happy to oblige for his king.

  Faceless names are passed between the two of them, accompanied with the label of survivor or fallen. Occasionally the faintest sigh of relief or stifled sob escapes Guy but for the most part he grits his teeth, nods, and asks the next name. It wouldn’t seem that Guy had any living relatives remaining, no reactions indicate that he has asked about the survival of a sibling or family member and of course he had witnessed the unfortunate death of his parents first-hand. This paired with the knowledge of his uncle’s death and the quietly concealed pity emanating from Jaq makes me wonder if the boy is now an orphan.

  I catch a few of them staring for a few seconds too long, no doubt observing the marks on my face, but I am far too accustomed to such treatment and too tired to care. It also gives me a chance to study their own and it is with shock that I discover some of the night’s shadows swirl into familiar shapes, decorating the faces that look back at me. A couple of the men are more ink than skin, tricking my eyes in the low light. For now, at least, they seem content enough with their rediscovery of Guy, thankfully my appearance pales in comparison and they soon return their full attention to their returned king.

  We also learn a little about the colony men, or Halpians as they called them. They had tracked the survivors to these mountains but after a couple of days of harsh weather the trail had been lost. Now they scouted the peaks, slowly closing in on the camp. A couple of hunters like Edwyn or other providers like the fisherman on the lake had not been seen in days, presumed captured or dead. Yet the colony men have not closed in on the camp after any of these incidents, Guy’s people have not broken yet, none have given anything that could lead to the colony’s discovery of their survivors.

  Before long we stop our excursion through the valley and begin to ascend one of the edges, I carefully follow in the footsteps of Guy and Jaq in front of me over the steep rise of loose stones and boulders. Despite this I still lose my footing at least a dozen times as we climb, sending an apologetic look to the Robyn-like girl behind who must keep supporting me. Each time is disarming, in the limited moonlight the resemblance really is uncanny.

  Looking around at the bare feet surrounding me as we face such harsh terrain, I see uncountable cuts, some old and some fresh, all toes beaten and purple. Barefoot may have served these people well when they were running around the treetops but walking over these loose sharp rocks without any kind of protection must be perilous. It would only take one misstep and the scree coating the mountain face would cut t
hem to pieces.

  Of course, my thoughts inevitably return to home. Again, I send a prayer for my mum, Alice, and Robyn, hoping that Arthur and the rest of Avlym can persuade the colony to exclude them from my treachery. I know Arthur would do anything for us, I just hope it’s enough. Also, nobody in the village has ever seen the colony itself, so of course we have no idea how many people they have, but with a bit of luck, most of them will be in these mountains. A small village posing little threat shouldn’t demand too much attention. Now that I know that they have enough to comfortably storm Guy’s home, I wonder how many soldiers they really have at their disposal.

  I think back to one time, years ago. It had been the biggest display of power I think I’ve ever witnessed, a reminder to the extent of the threat that I face today.

  The Royal family had visited Avlym once, not the King, but the Queen and their children passed through. They were touring through each of the villages, demanding each of our hospitalities before moving onto the next. None of us had known the purpose of their visit. When I had put the question to Arthur, he had shrugged me off replying that when the Royals demanded something, it was not up to us to question them.

  Everyone in Avlym had been forced to work for a fortnight just to prepare for those brief hours where we were to be their hosts. Nobody had slept well in those days of preparation.

  Robyn and I, along with Alice, Rhys, and the rest of Avlym’s children, had spent sunrise to long past dawn creating bunting to hang from our pitiful rooftops to try and make the village more welcoming and impressive. It hadn’t worked. I don’t think anyone could have described the abomination as well as Ida, “No matter how much you dress up the hog, it will never become a lady.”