The King's Tribe

by Kai Widdeson

  Orrian throws the swords behind him, he now stands directly between me and them.

  “Pick up a sword,” he says. The statement is clearly a challenge as he settles into a combative stance.

  I throw myself forwards. As he moves to intercept, I change my direction at the last moment before contact hoping to sidestep around him. His body is too far off to the other side to get in my way, but he managed to get an arm around my stomach. Orrian catches me and pulls me into a hug from behind, as hard as I try, I cannot break free from his grip. He lifts me off my feet and grunts as he sends me sprawling over one shoulder, I’m back to where I started.

  “Again,” he says.

  I pant catching my breath, I should have known he’d be too fast for me. I need to try something different. I feign breathlessness as I inch further forwards. Once within reach I lash out his legs. Orrian nimbly jumps over them and onto me, pinning me with my chest in the grass. I groan as he removes his knee from the top of my spine and allows me to my feet.

  “Again,” he repeats.

  I try several more times using various combinations of attacks and evasions, but none get past him. He’s faster than anyone I’ve ever seen. Previously, I’ve always been the nimble one in any fight but here is someone who is both stronger and more agile. Each of my attempts ends in the forest king pinning me and forcing me back away from the swords.

  “Again,” I’m really starting to get tired of him saying that. As sweat beads my forehead and I struggle for breath, Orrian looks down on me as fresh as if we are yet to begin.

  I stumble forward, it’s not difficult to pretend like I’m on my last legs. I collide with his midriff, Randall’s shoes scrabble to gain friction as I try and force Orrian backwards. The young king easily holds me at bay, taking a step forward against me before deciding to throw me to one side. My momentum carries me forwards and the second I hit the ground I’m lunging with my arm outstretched. Orrian lands on my back as my stomach slides across the grass. I’ve done it, I may not have the sword in my grip, but my fingertip brushes its hilt.

  “Better,” Orrian admits as he helps me to my feet. A solitary pair of hands clap to one side.

  Randall is standing at the edge of the clearing, he’s barefoot and his leg is still covered in paste. He continues for a moment longer before limping over to a thick tree where he leans and watches.

  Now that I’ve managed to touch the blade by myself, Orrian spends the remainder of the morning teaching me how to fight with only my bare knuckles. He shows me wear to hit and how to immobilise an opponent. Most people will be slower than me but stronger, he says, and so I need to use their weight and momentum against them.

  “I’ll show you, charge me,” he instructs. I resign myself to the fact that what happens next is surely going to hurt.

  I do as he asks, rushing him from the other side of the green. As I come within arm’s reach, he grabs the collar of my undershirt with his left hand and turns into me as he crosses his arms so that the other hooks under my armpit. I’m still moving forwards as he thrusts his hips backwards and pulls down on my arm. I am helpless as I go flying over his shoulder and land flat on my back at his feet, my arm still in his grip. From here he could snap it, or kill me if he had a blade, I am completely at his mercy.

  We continue working on this move for the next hour. The first few attempts leaving me complaining that I’m not strong enough to lift him however.

  “It’s not about how strong you are, it’s about their weight and momentum. Throw your hips backwards more sharply,” Orrian instructs.

  After another couple of tries, he finally leaves the ground. A couple more and he’s going over my shoulder. A satisfied smile plays across his lips as I release his arm for the last time and he comes to his feet.

  I am sweating profusely now in the midday heat, even Orrian has a few droplets clinging to his brow.

  “From now on we train every morning and evening until the attack,” says Orrian, my participation is clearly not optional. “You did alright, we come back here at sunset.”

  I watch as the king leaves our training ground and heads back towards Tarrin. I approach Randall who still lounges against his tree.

  “You’re starting to look good,” he says as I near.

  “I had my arse handed to me,” I laugh, wincing as my bruised ribs flare. “Do you need a hand?”

  Randall waves my help away and so I leisurely walk by his side as he limps back towards the village.

  “I don’t know if I can do this,” I blurt out. “How can I be this Akanian that Orrian and everyone else expects me to be?”

  For a worrying second, Randall remains silent. He’s maybe the only person I can talk to about all this. Orrian won’t even hear my concerns and I’m forbidden from confiding with any of the tribespeople. My only other option would be Robyn but if there’s anyone who I don’t mind thinking that I’m some destined hero, it’s her.

  “Let them have their myths and legends. Once all of this is over, you can sit out the fight,” says Randall.

  “But that’s the problem! I’m the one who’s supposed to end the fight! They all think that I’m the one who can beat the colony once and for all!” I say. I don’t care how I sound, I need to get this off my chest.

  “If we win, no one’s going to care how much you did or didn’t contribute. And if we lose...well, no one’s going to care either,” Randall says.

  I try to take some comfort in his words. He’s right that once we’re in the heat of the battle everyone will be far too concerned with themselves to spectate my struggles. He makes a good point, but there’s one thing that I still haven’t told Randall.

  “What if I’m not even capable of fighting anymore?” I ask nervously. We have reached the edge of the forest, but I hold my father’s friend back, I need to have this conversation.

  “What do you mean?” he asks.

  Together we revisit the battle of the beach, this time I don’t leave out anything. I tell him of all the people I killed or cut down, and then I struggle not to choke up as I reveal that one particular body. The one who had been targeting Orrian and whose death had caused me to freeze in the heat of battle. I tell him everything, my voice thick with shame as I describe how I panicked before being knocked unconscious. I describe how a sword now weighs me down more than anything else. Randall doesn’t react as I talk, allowing me to continue as he rests against the nearest tree.

  I then move onto the battle in the dungeon. How the body on the beach had come back to haunt me when the people around me needed my help more than ever.

  “I couldn’t kill him. After everything he’s done to Avlym and I still couldn’t do it,” I reveal. This is the part I’ve been most nervous about, when Randall finds out that I had the opportunity to kill Becker and I didn’t take it. The hunter breaks eye contact and looks away into the trees.

  “He was unarmed,” Randall eventually says, but more to himself than to me. “Your dad would have called that honourable.”

  My lips tighten as I blink away tears. Randall never speaks about my father, I hope he would have been proud of my decision. It’s now my turn to look out into the distant trees, controlling myself before I turn back to Randall.

  “I’m not saying I wouldn’t have killed him, I think most people in your position would have, but I don’t blame you for what you did,” Randall continues. As the closest person I have to a parent in this place, my writhing stomach unclenches at his exoneration. “As for everything else, you know you’re going to have to fight again. I’m sure you know how different it is when it’s kill or be killed. I’m sorry, but that’s war, you won’t survive if you don’t fight back.

  “When I first started hunting, I used to panic every time I somehow managed to get a kill. I would be overcome with guilt and I couldn’t sleep for days. But it gets easier, because I realised that if I didn’t kill then we couldn’t provide enough for our people. I became a hunter not because I wanted to, but out of duty. Whe
n we arrive at those gates, you won’t be fighting because you’re a killer, you’ll be fighting to protect our people, remember that,” says Randall. For as long as I’ve known him, he’s always been so natural as a hunter, I had never considered the possibility that he disliked what he did.

  I nod slightly, the voice of worry is still at the back of my mind, but it has been muffled by Randall’s words. The hunter pats me on the back, an opening as he then proceeds to drape an arm over my shoulder.

  Together, we limp back towards the village.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  With each day that passes, it becomes harder to move the following morning. My muscles are sore, and I am covered in bruises from Orrian’s demonstrations. But I relish every second of it. As we train for hours on end, I am noticeably getting better, and fast.

  We spent the first few days continuing with hand combat before finally moving onto swords, it is here where most of our efforts will be concentrated. I struggle a little at first, but training with the sword eventually begins to get easier both physically and mentally. Thanks to our escape, unlike most of the villages’ armies we will be armed properly. Unfortunately, with the weapons carvers needing to focus all their time towards putting a spear in each fighter’s hands, we haven’t been able to get our hands on any wooden training swords. We train with real sharpened blades, which inevitably has resulted in a couple of light cuts on both of us as the other swings unpredictably. I apologise each time I accidentally catch Orrian, but whenever I draw blood he doesn’t flinch and proceeds to push me even harder.

  A week has passed consisting almost solely of intense training with Orrian. He conducts his affairs with the council and Thoren in the early afternoon but before and after each meeting we are round the back of Randall’s hut training. The hunter comes to watch occasionally, even sometimes shouting out useful tips learnt through years of tavern brawling. The bruising on his face is almost fully gone now although the red vein still clings to the white of his eye. He still walks with a limp but has improved greatly, he can now move around Tarrin freely and the limp lessens with each sunrise.

  One morning, I am awoken on the floor of Arthur’s home. The space had been cramped and Damaris had refused to let anyone other than Orrian sleep on the bed, despite even his own protests. Alice naps next to me on a bundle of fabrics whilst myself and Damaris have just enough spare layers to tuck beneath our heads as a pillow. When you pair these sleeping conditions with our daily training sessions, it’s no wonder my body is complaining so much.

  Footfalls shake the walls of the unstable hut. I rise to my feet expecting to find Orrian waiting for us to head back out to the clearing. Instead, he sits up from his bed clearly as confused as I am. Numerous shadows flicker outside through the gaps in the hut’s wall. The pair of us rush outside and into the early morning light.

  A steady stream of villagers march past us. They head towards the centre of the village and their tail end disappears around the corner and out of sight. Orrian waits for me to slip on Randall’s shoes, Alice and Damaris start stirring behind us. We slip out to accompany the new arrivals.

  They come to a stop outside Thoren’s porch, the warrior is already waiting outside to greet them. Arthur triumphantly stands at their head for a moment before joining Thoren’s side. Tarrin’s leader notices Orrian and myself standing off to the side and beckons the forest king to join him. I wait far away from the other’s attention as Orrian shifts uncomfortably before the immense crowd.

  More people continue to pour into the street until they stretch almost as far down as Arthur’s hut in all directions. I won’t even attempt to guess how many villages mill around in front of me, certainly they’ve increased by our numbers by at least eight or nine-fold. I’ve only ever been to a couple of villages outside Avlym, but I know there are still several more who must have refused Arthur’s call.

  Thoren launches into a similar speech to the one he gave his people not too long ago. Only a few things have changed to accommodate the new arrivals. For example, the floor of the tavern has been completely cleared along with several other communal spaces to allow for enough sleeping space. This however will still not be enough and so everyone who currently resides in a hut will have to offer up their floorspace to the residents of the other villages.

  Before long, Tarrin’s council members are back moving amongst the people with their papers and their lists. The process takes considerably longer this time and the sun is high in the sky before they finish. Given the sudden tide of jobs and duties approaching him, I assume that Orrian has cancelled our morning training for today.

  The remainder of the day consists of setting up housing for those staying to fight and delegating various tasks for them to busy themselves with. I spend the remainder of the light confined to Arthur’s hut as I try and draw a detailed map for Damaris to follow tomorrow. I add everything I can remember about the journey that might help Damaris to not stray from the path. Now that we’re in Tarrin, it’s not too difficult to trace a route leading back to Avlym and from there it’s just a case of following the river upstream until she reaches Edwyn’s den and then disappearing into the mountains.

  A part of me longs to go with her, I want to see Avlym for myself before we go off to war, but I can’t. Disappearing at a time like this would be too selfish, there is too much here that needs to be done. Besides, where I hope it would fuel me to fight the colony, I’m not sure I want to risk the possible hopelessness and despair.

  Damaris sets off with the vulnerable the next day. A large crowd amble along slowly behind her, it’ll take a few days for them to reach the mountain and perhaps another couple to return with Jaq and the others.

  Harvey is with several others who could perhaps fight in the war but have chosen not to. They have been assigned to either the front, flanks, or rear of the group, forming a pitiful protective barrier. They won’t be of much use in the case of an attack but it’s better than nothing. Also, the colony have their hostages and we should be their focus. Even if they have caught wind of the travelling villagers, we will be their priority and so hopefully they should leave Damaris and her group alone.

  I watch as Ida takes Alice’s hand in her own and disappears among the heads. She had bawled for an entire evening when I had told her that she had to leave. Hurt as it may, I stood my ground and eventually she sulkily agreed to going after Arthur stepped in to say that he needed someone to look after Ida for him. I will come back for her when all this is done, and I will bring Mother with me.

  Arthur has graciously continued to allow us to stay in his hut, although Orrian has given the older man back his bed. Of course, with the other two gone there are now only the three of us, giving us much more space than those crammed into the tavern and the other homes.

  I wipe my eyes as those heading for the mountain finally disappear around the corner and out of sight. There’s little else we can do until Damaris returns with Jaq, Orrian has persuaded Thoren that the few tribespeople are worth waiting for. Until they arrive, everyone in Tarrin will just have to continue with their preparations.

  Now that we have so many extra hands, most of the spears have been made and any more proper weapons have been brought along by each village. There are plenty more hunters who can help provide for the increased number of residents. They still struggle and everyone is left a little hungry but there is nobody among us who is not used to such conditions.

  Orrian continues with our training sessions, pushing me harder as I begin to improve. I feel as if Randall and myself are swapping positions, his bruises fading whilst I am constantly being dealt new ones. I know Orrian’s beginning to get restless, desperate to return to the colony. His people, like Mother, have remained captive for too long. The more we take our time here, the more chance there is that they will never return from behind those iron bars.

  Five days later, Damaris returns to Tarrin. She had escorted the others to the mountain without incident and there should be enough food stored
away there by Jaq and Ryfon that they won’t be pressured into hunting for a while.

  Only the four of them return to their king, the original three who separated from us as well as Damaris. I realise that after every capable man and woman had fought on the beach, this is all of Orrian’s army that remains free. This is all that’s left, an entire tribe reduced to only a handful of us. However, now that they're here we can finally begin remedying that problem.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  “It won’t work!” one of the village leaders exclaims heatedly at the suggestion of using ladders to scale the colony walls. “From what we’ve heard, there’s too many of them, they’ll just pick us off whilst we’re climbing!”

  I stand behind Arthur in Thoren’s large meeting room. The broken table has been replaced by an identical one at Thoren’s orders. There hadn’t been enough chairs for everyone to have a seat and so it is only Thoren, Orrian, Arthur, and the other village leaders who sit whilst the rest of us line the walls. It is Thoren and Orrian who sit opposite each other at the heads of the table. Tarrin’s council had explicitly requested that only essential people attended the meeting, I had been touched when Orrian and Arthur had insisted that I was included in that group.

  “Well what would you suggest then?” another voice asks.

  “There’s no chance we’re getting through the gate.”

  “Could we dig under it?”

  “No, they said the walls were thick, they’ll notice us before we can get under. It’ll take too long.”

  “What about a siege?”

  “Are you kidding? They’ll just bring the battle to us and we’ll lose against them in the open.”

  “Well they’re going to notice when we don’t send them our food, what if we try and starve them out?”

  “No, they’ve got enough villages to get by, they’ll just come here, take our land, and give it to someone else.”