Will (Book 2)

by S. F. Burgess

  “Just because it was invented by a Star Trek writer doesn’t mean it’s not applicable!” Will said, in a more defensive tone than he had intended.

  “You’re such a geek!” Eleanor shot back. “And Conlan thinks I watched too much TV! Besides, this isn’t some strange planet we’ve landed on; this is home, we live here. Technically we were ‘born’ here. We’re not arriving, changing everything and flying away, we’re going to have to live with the changes we make. And I’m not making them a nuclear bomb—I’m making something the Chinese came up with hundreds of years ago on our world!”

  “You’re giving them a tool that ended with the creation of nuclear weapons on our world, Eleanor. A tool that has caused, directly or indirectly, the deaths of millions of people over the course of our history. This is wrong. You have to stop what you’re doing,” Will said, still feeling a little sick. The potential for disaster was staggering.

  The fight seemed to go out of Eleanor and she dropped her head, her voice trembling, fighting back tears when she spoke. “What I’m doing is giving Conlan an edge—a fighting chance of defeating armies that will far outnumber his. I just found the love of my life, Will. I want to know he has some possibility of success when he rides off into battle. And frankly, if I had to design and create laser guns to achieve this, I would! Gunpowder was just easier.”

  “Eleanor, this sort of knowledge is like opening Pandora’s box: once you let it out, there’s no putting it back in,” Will said, trying hard to impress upon her the gravity of her actions.

  “I don’t care. Our world has handled the implications, and Mydren can too. I want Conlan to win, Will, and this will help him,” Eleanor insisted.

  “I want him to win too—but not at the cost of his soul,” Will replied.

  Eleanor gave him a snarl of Dwarfish frustration. “Don’t be so melodramatic!”

  “You might feel a little differently when it’s one of our guys taking the bullet,” Will snapped back, feeling his anger begin to rise.

  “I told you, no bullets. Fireworks, distractions!” Eleanor yelled.

  Biting his tongue, so he did not yell back, Will took a deep breath. “You can’t stop the spread of information, Eleanor, not completely,” he said as calmly as he was able. “If we gain this advantage, it won’t be long before our enemies have it too. And who knows what they will do with it.”

  “The only people who will know how to make the explosive will be you and me, if that’s the way you want it, but I am doing this!” Eleanor said, slamming her hand on the table and creating a puff of wood dust.

  “And why am I involved all of a sudden?” Will asked.

  Eleanor looked sheepish and blushed. “Because I’m guessing your chemistry knowledge is better than mine, and I’m going to need some help removing the impurities from my raw materials.”

  “So glad that you think my pitiful education and I can be of assistance…” Will muttered.

  “Please, Will,” Eleanor pleaded. “We have the chance to gain a huge advantage; we need to take it!”

  Will looked into her eyes and saw the fear, the desperation within them. What she was doing took courage. She had assessed the enemy that stood against them and she was still willing to face them—she just wanted to even up the odds a little. He understood her motivations, admired them, but still, it did not make the outcome right. Perhaps this is not our decision to make.

  “Eleanor, I think this is wrong,” Will said. Eleanor opened her mouth and Will held up a finger to stop her outburst. “But,” he continued, “neither of us should have the final say on this. So how about we think about it for the next few days? You think about it from my point of view, and I’ll think about it from yours. Then the next time we camp we’ll tell the others and see what they have to say. Okay?”

  With a dejected sigh, Eleanor nodded. “I just wanted to surprise him.”

  “I’m sorry I ruined your boyfriend’s surprise with my fears of genocide,” Will said with a grin.

  Eleanor grinned back, then stood up and leaned forward to kiss his cheek before shoving the stuff on the table haphazardly into the open drawers. She closed them and headed out down the steps. “Come on Will,” she called over her shoulder. “It’ll be lunchtime soon.”

  For the next few days, Will concentrated on decorating the carts, to the exclusion of almost all else. And to his surprise, being completely and totally immersed in his craft and engaged in something that made him happy had a massively therapeutic effect. He even caught himself whistling on occasion.

  Amelia commented on his happier disposition, and Will even talked her into forgoing lunch one day so they could spend some time together, just the two of them; it was a wonderful few hours. The weather was getting warmer and spring was creeping forward, as evidenced by the abundance of new plant growth around them and the longer days. Will felt grounded and at peace.

  On the evening of the tenth day, the sun set with a spectacularly colourful display, splashing Will’s final brush strokes with a soft, pink glow.

  “Eleanor’s right: you’ve got a lot of talent.”

  Will turned. Conlan stood behind him, appraising the image on the cart. Will moved to stand next to his friend to appreciate what he had achieved. He had painted the main wall of cart the Protectors would call home in a very dark blue: a night sky with a view of the stars across it. The image represented what he would see if he were lying on his back on a clear night, looking up through a clearing in the forest at the majesty of the cosmos, the Milky Way glittering across his vision.

  “How did you get the stars to shine?” Conlan asked, staring in fascination at the image before him.

  “Gold and silver paint—I dread to think how much they cost!” Will replied.

  He had covered the rest of the cart in different sizes of bright yellow stars on the same dark blue background as the main image.

  “How does this represent who we are as a troupe?” Conlan asked.

  Will shrugged. “Because we’re out of this world?”

  Conlan laughed—a deep, unrestrained mirth. No matter how many times Will heard it—and he was hearing it more and more of late—it never ceased to amaze and delight him.

  “Did you see our caravan?” Will asked.

  Conlan smiled. “I was waiting for an invitation.”

  Will grinned. “Come on,” he said, leading Conlan over to the other cart.

  He had gone for the feel of nature with their new home. The main wall was painted as a landscape, seen far in the distance. The focus of the painting was a large oak tree in the foreground, with a campfire and the twelve of them sat around. In the twilight they played cards and musical instruments, juggled and told stories. They were all happy, smiling and laughing. Nearly every open space was filled with ivy, holly, and other small creepers, leaves and colourful flowers. Small, intricate and delicate, they looked almost real.

  “It’s beautiful… peaceful,” Conlan murmured, stepping closer, his gaze caught by something in the background. Eyes widening, he gasped. “Will, is that Rand?”

  Will smiled. “Yes.” There was so much more he wanted to add—that they had all loved Rand, that he was still missed, that he would never be forgotten—but the words just did not want to be spoken.

  Conlan gazed at the small, perfectly rendered image. “Thank you.” There was sorrow in the words, but also genuine gratitude.

  The furnishings for the carts were finished and put in place as Will finished off the painting. The small stoves had been running since the day before, to speed up the drying out process, and Will was looking forward to their first night in their new home. To celebrate the completion of their tasks, Kip had created a big, satisfying meal—this time nobody drank too much—and after eating, they all began to drift off to their beds.

  Eleanor slipped away yawning when Conlan showed no interest in bringing to a halt the conversation he was having with Elroy and Mickle about bows, and Freddie followed soon after. Conlan was still deep in conversa
tion when Will got up from the fire, pulling a tired Amelia behind him. The cart swayed gently as they mounted the steps. Inside it was as warm and comfortable as Will had hoped, illuminated by the soft glow of the lantern hung from the ceiling. Freddie and Eleanor had moved the furniture around, and now the bulk of the space was taken over by the large double bed at the far end, with the second, slightly smaller double bed as a sturdy-looking ‘bunk bed’ over the top of it.

  Davlin sat on one of the single beds, his back to the wall. He nodded a greeting. The other single bed, however, was empty. Freddie was lying on his back in the large double bed, snoring softly, and Eleanor slept against him, her head resting on one of his outstretched arms. She looked so tiny curled up, so very fragile and childlike.

  “This is going to upset Conlan,” Amelia whispered, nodding towards Freddie’s and Eleanor’s sleeping forms.

  “It hasn’t done in the past,” Will shrugged.

  Amelia rolled her eyes. “Men are so dense! Things are a little different now. They’re both playing with fire.”

  “I advised them that Conlan would not approve,” Davlin informed Will quietly, on seeing the concern in Amelia’s eyes. “However, Lady Eleanor seemed rather annoyed that Conlan had not come to bed with her and did not seem to care.”

  “Apparently Davlin told them it was a bad idea and Eleanor ignored him,” Will translated. “It’s none of our business, Amelia. They can work it out between themselves.”

  She nodded reluctantly, pulled her boots off and lined them up next to Freddie’s and Eleanor’s.

  “The double bed above is empty,” she said. “Think we can both get up there without waking them up?”

  Treading carefully, they managed to haul themselves into the top bunk. The comfort of the mattress was a pleasant surprise. Will smiled as his pushed his hand into its soft, warm depths.

  “This was Freddie’s idea,” Amelia whispered. “His grandfather used to have a mattress from Italy stuffed with wool. I knew you’d want it, so Eleanor asked Remic for lots of wool, and we made mattress-sized bags of this heavy material,” she said, patting the mattress with pride. “And then stuffed it. It’s a little lumpy in places, but more comfortable than the ground.”

  “It’s brilliant,” Will said, giving her a hug. “It must have taken ages to make enough for both carts.”

  Amelia shook her head. “We didn’t have that much wool. The other cart got hammocks.”

  Along with the comfortable mattress, the warmth was something else Will was not used to, and he found himself taking his outer layers of clothing off in order to sleep. The bed was not really a double bed, more a large single. It was tight, but with Amelia lying partially on top of him, they managed to fit. Yet having the weight of Amelia’s partially dressed body pressed against the full length of his, their warm flesh rubbing together, was both a pleasure and a torment—and the torment part increased rather rapidly as she squirmed to get comfortable.

  “Behave yourself,” she whispered huskily into his ear, kissing his cheek lightly before nuzzling into his neck, her eyes falling closed.

  Feeling a little too strung out to sleep, Will lay staring at the canvas roof as it billowed in the wind, running a light hand up and down Amelia’s side. He heard the voices around the fire begin to taper off as the others went to their beds, then listened to Freddie snore. The gentle noise had driven him nuts when Freddie had first arrived, but now he found it hard to sleep without it in the background. As his body slowly relaxed, Will allowed Eleanor’s gunpowder idea to play through his mind. Used as a distraction, it would be very useful, especially if Freddie could set them off from a distance. They would be even more reliable than fireworks, as there would be no fuses. Will sighed. All the reasons why this was a bad plan dropped down on him. All the knowledge and discoveries we could share with the people of Mydren, and the first chance we get, we create a weapon. The little pixie’s desperate, fearful face flashed up from his memory. She just wants to protect the man she loves. So what was the right answer? If they protected Conlan in the short term, were they damning Mydren in the long term?

  He was still trying to find an acceptable answer to the question an hour or so later when the cart rocked gently and Conlan entered. Conlan nodded to Davlin, who nodded a formal greeting back before silently leaving. Then he pulled his boots off and frowned as he looked down at Freddie and Eleanor. Reaching calmly across to a cupboard on the left side of the cart, he opened it and removed his sword. More than a little worried, Will moved slightly so he could get a better view, in case he needed to act. Keeping the weapon in its scabbard, his face cold, Conlan jabbed Freddie hard in the stomach.

  Freddie woke with a start and, sitting up too quickly, hit his head on the underside of Will and Amelia’s bed. With a groan he fell back into the pillows. Eleanor woke at the movement, pulling herself to the end of the bed, rubbing bleary eyes.

  “Freddie, I believe you are in my bed,” Conlan said, with tight control. Sighing, Freddie crawled off the double bed into the single one Davlin had just vacated.

  “I told you he wouldn’t like it,” Freddie muttered at Eleanor as he moved past, a hand rubbing his stomach.

  “Sorry, Freddie,” Eleanor said, turning to glare at Conlan. “I didn’t think he’d care.”

  Freddie shook his head. “No, you knew he’d care. You just wanted him to feel bad for making you come to bed alone.”

  Eleanor blushed, dropping her head. “Not exactly,” she murmured, missing the hurt that darted across Conlan’s face.

  “The conversation I was having was important, Eleanor,” Conlan said softly, putting his sword away again.

  “So important I couldn’t be included?” Eleanor asked.

  “It was not a topic you would understand,” Conlan replied.

  “Because I’m a woman?” Eleanor asked.

  “No, because you’re a twenty-year-old girl from a world that doesn’t use bows and arrows in warfare!” Conlan snapped, his anger rising in his glowing green eyes.

  “Has it crossed your mind that I might have an understanding if you invited me into these conversations?” Eleanor asked, her voice full of bitter hurt. “I’m not a child!”

  Conlan snorted. “Really?”

  Will saw the rant, saw the explosion that was coming, and was surprised and impressed when Eleanor swallowed it back and sighed. “Fair point… by shutting me out, you hurt me, so I wanted to hurt you back. You’re right: it was childish. I’m sorry.”

  Conlan stared at her, as if he too was expecting an explosion that had not materialised. When he spoke, his face was serious, but Will could hear the humour under his tone.

  “Eleanor, if I try and ensure that you’re a part of the conversations and activities of my day, can I trust that I won’t find you in bed with anyone else in the future?”

  A big grin spread across Eleanor’s face and she nodded enthusiastically before throwing her arms around Conlan’s neck, smothering him with kisses. She giggled as Conlan picked her up and placed her down on the bed, rather sensibly putting her feet under the overhang of Will and Amelia’s bed. Then he took his jacket off and lay down next to her.

  “Freddie? Did I hurt you?” Conlan asked.

  “I’m fine,” Freddie said, sounding very irritated. “But you still need to work on your temper issues—and I should make more of an effort to keep Eleanor from talking me into things I know are a bad idea. I guess I should be grateful you didn’t just run me through!”

  “I’m sorry, Freddie.” Conlan’s apology had been sincere, a hint of shame under the surface. It was followed by silence.

  “I know you are,” Freddie replied eventually, his tone forgiving. He yawned and curled onto his side to sleep.

  Thoughts of gunpowder and battles made sleep difficult to find, so Will was only dozing several hours later when Eleanor sat bolt upright, wide awake and gasping in pain, her hands clutched over her heart. Her sudden jerk woke both Freddie and Conlan in an instant.

 
; “What’s the matter?” Conlan whispered. Freddie gave Eleanor a concerned look.

  “Arran,” Eleanor moaned, anguish making her voice catch, tears running down her face.

  Freddie’s frown deepened. “What about him?”

  “Where is he?” Eleanor asked.

  “I left him by the fire when I came to bed,” Conlan said. “Is something the matter with him?”

  “He’s in so much pain…” Eleanor gasped, pulling herself out of bed and walking to the door. Opening it a crack, she peered through.

  The door was too low to allow Conlan to stand comfortably and see out, so he shuffled over and knelt at Eleanor’s side, peering out into the dark towards the glowing embers of the fire.

  “See, he’s still there—he’s fine,” Conlan whispered. “You can feel his emotions?”

  “He’s not fine, Conlan. He’s devastated, miserable and so very lonely. It’s so strong I could feel it if I was on the moon,” Eleanor whispered back, running her hand over Conlan’s head and pulling him against her side, unconsciously seeking comfort. She turned to look down at him. “I wonder why you can’t feel it…”

  Conlan shrugged.

  “Why doesn’t he just go to bed?” Freddie whispered irritably, never a fan of having his sleep interrupted.

  Eleanor turned a tear-streaked face towards him. “He can’t go to bed, Freddie; no one has given him a place to sleep. I don’t think he even owns a blanket. The Protectors don’t trust or like him very much—they wouldn’t have offered him a place in their cart unless ordered to do so—and we never thought to invite him into ours… We left him alone, afraid and freezing.”

  Will felt an immediate surge of pity for the Enforcer. He had never considered where he would sleep.

  “He should have said something,” Conlan muttered, but Will heard the resignation in his voice. He knows Eleanor’s about to have a go at him for this.