by Amanda Young
* * *
“The coast is clear. Let’s go.” Thomas led Marcy and Frex through alleys and side streets, taking them to a patch of forest where they could travel unseen. The sun had long since disappeared behind the trees, leaving them in the dark without much warmth. Thankfully, Thomas had a small lantern, but it didn’t give off much light. Once they made it a fair distance from the apartment, Thomas made camp. Marcy helped make Frex comfortable, waiting until he was asleep. Then she joined Thomas by the fire.
So, you’re in the Guard with Kern? I didn’t think there were that many humans in the Guard.”
“No, not many.” He scratched the side of his face. “Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve met any others. But then, we don’t exactly socialize that much with each other. We usually work alone.”
“What made you join?”
He shrugged. “It’s a job.”
“There are plenty of jobs. Are you from Suriax?”
“No, I’m from a small village on a plateau in the mountains. When I was a boy, my village went through several difficult summers. There was no rain for months. All the crops began to fail. People were starving. Many picked up and left in search of food and opportunities. My father was stubborn. Our family lived on that land for generations, and he didn’t want to leave. When he died, I was left in charge of the family. I was young and not as experienced with farming as he was. Things quickly went from bad to worse. My younger sisters and mother became ill. Around that time, a strange elven man came through town. We didn’t get many visitors, as you can imagine. His clothes were well kept and made of the finest materials. He was well fed and healthy. He stayed for a few weeks, and everyone commented how generous he was with his coin. He overpaid for his room, food and supplies. One day, I ran into him while picking up supplies. He helped me pay for extra food for my family. We got to talking, and I learned he lived in the village a long time before. We were a human village, but apparently he was once friends with someone who lived in the town. They were long dead, as was everyone who knew him there, but he remembered his time in our village fondly and wanted to help out. I asked how he was able to afford such generosity. He told me he worked for the Flame Guard in Suriax. I heard of the Guard before, but I thought they were all just a bunch of clerics sitting around praying and learning to fight. He told me about the mercenary branch, how some guardsmen were recruited specifically for jobs and spent considerably less time involved in worship and prayer. The more he talked, the more I realized I could be one of them and earn the money we needed to keep my family fed. He brought me back and I’ve been working here ever since. I keep what money I need for basic necessities and send back the rest to my family. Through working here, I made enough to pay for dowries for two of my sisters. My other sister and mother never go hungry, and there’s even enough left over to help some of the other villagers from time to time. The droughts aren’t usually a problem anymore, but years of poor crops and hardship took their toll. Many over-farmed the land that would produce to the point of worthlessness, now. Many of the better farmers have died or moved on, and those who remain are more like me, men who worked on the farms but don’t really know enough to run them alone. I take back food and supplies when I can. The Guard has helped me do that.”
“Do you ever plan to go back?” Given how much he cared for his home and his people, she could image how difficult it must be to live away from them.
“I want to, but I don’t know if that will ever happen. Honestly, I’d love to settle down, farm the land of my ancestors and raise a family of my own. But if staying here is the price I pay to keep even one person from starving, that’s what I’ll do.”
“What if helping us jeopardizes that?”
Thomas didn’t say anything, but from the expression on his face, she could tell that thought already occurred to him. Finally he threw another stick on the fire and dusted off his hands. “You should get some sleep. We can figure out where we’re going from here in the morning.”
* * *
Marcy awoke to the smell of freshly cooked meat. Thomas dished out food for each of them and put out the fire. Dew covered the ground. Sunlight glistened off the dew on Thomas’ pack and rolled up sleeping mat. “How long have you been up?” she asked, stretching.
“I didn’t go to sleep.” He handed her a plate of food and took food and water over to Frex, gently waking him and helping him to sit.
Marcy ate in silence, feeling guilty for not realizing someone had to stay up and keep watch. She never even thought to offer to take turns. Instead she slept and left him to sit up alone all night. At least he didn’t seem too much worse the wear. It was too late now to worry about it. She would just have to make an effort to be more considerate from here on. He was sacrificing a lot to help them. The least she could do was stay up so he could get a few hours of sleep. “So, what’s the plan?”
“I talked to Kern through our rings last night. He said we should make our way into Aleria. He found a merchant who may be receptive to help us given the proper financial incentive. The man won’t be back in Suriax for a couple of days, though, so we have to bide our time until then. I know a few people with homes near the river. We may be able to hide out there while we wait. After breakfast, I’ll hike out that way and see what I can work out.” Thomas looked over at Frex and lowered his tone so only Marcy could hear. “When I get back, you can leave if you like. Right now, the only people who knew you were helping Kern are dead. If anyone else finds out, you may have to leave the city for good. Leave now, and you can go back to your life like nothing happened.”
“I promised Kern I would watch after him.”
Thomas busied himself packing the cooking supplies into his pack. “It was Kern’s suggestion. He frees you from your promise.”
Marcy felt strangely conflicted. If he freed her she should be able to walk away guilt free. She looked at Frex. She still felt responsible for him. If she left, who would take care of him when Thomas was busy keeping them safe? Who would be there to take a watch or be a second set of ears? And if she left she would probably never see Thomas again. For some reason she couldn’t begin to understand, that thought bothered her almost as much as anything else. “I can’t. I need to see this through.”
“For Kern.” He nodded his understanding, a hint of resignation in his voice.”
Marcy felt the irrational urge to slap him. Here she was feeling bad for leaving him to handle all this on his own, and he had the nerve to sound disappointed that she was sticking around. “Well if you don’t want me to stay . . .”
“What?” Thomas looked up confused. Even Frex looked up from his plate at her outburst. “No, I just . . . I figured . . . why exactly are you angry?”
If she had been in a better mood, she may have laughed at his confused expression. As it was, she couldn’t stand to be around him anymore. “I’m going to freshen up.” Grabbing her bag, she left.
* * *
“Stop holding back.”
Mirerien pulled back her hammer and swung with all her strength. Collin easily blocked her blow by deflecting the energy down and out with his shield. Spinning, he swung his sword around, even with her arm. She sidestepped and used her momentum to bring the hammer back around and up. A few inches closer, and it would have hit him under the chin. “You are making it too easy,” he complained. “I didn’t even have to dodge that one.”
“This is only training.” She advanced her attack and pushed him back a few steps.
“You must train how you want to fight in an actual battle. If you hold back here, you may hesitate or hold back in a real fight. Your enemies will not hold back.”
“Are you?” she shot back.
“Fair enough. So what do you say we both stop playing around and give this a good go?” They shared a grin and began fighting in earnest. The match raged until the mid-day sun was high in the sky. At some point, Mirerien became aware of an audience. Her nieces and nephews lined the edge of the sidewalk, watchin
g and cheering when she landed a good blow. Exhausted and out of breath, they flew into a flurry of blows heightened with grace she thought long since spent. Breaking from a particularly complicated attack run, they looked at each other and nodded. Mirerien dropped her hammer through its loop, and Collin followed suit with his blade. The children yelled excitedly and ran up to congratulate her on her performance. Collin smiled and left.
“That was impressive,” Pielere, commented. “I see your training is progressing nicely.
She nodded. “He is an excellent teacher. Thank you for recommending him.”
“I am just glad to see you happy . . . with his training,” he added pointedly.
Mirerien paused in unlacing her bracers and narrowed her eyes. “What is that supposed to mean?
“Not a thing.” She raised an eyebrow. Pielere laughed.
Not expecting an answer, she returned to her bracers. “I do not see what is so funny.”
“Yes, I know. That actually proves my point.”
“You had a point?” a small grin played at the corner of her lips.
“That’s more like it. My point was that it is good to see you enjoying yourself. You smiled more during that sparring match than I’ve seen you do in months, longer even.”
“I smile,” she said defensively. They began walking together back to the palace. The children were too caught up in a spontaneous game of tag to notice or care.
“Sister,” Pielere said softly, “I love you, but you are not always the warmest person in the world. I know our work is important, but we must remain grounded in life, or we forget why we do what we do or the real people our decisions impact. When you find something, or someone who can make you smile, hold on to that. It is not insignificant.”
“Father, come play,” a young boy ran up and grabbed Pielere’s arm, pulling him toward the other children.”
“I wish I could, but I have a meeting I must go to?”
“Go,” Mirerien said, “I will take your meeting.” Gratitude shone in his eyes. As she watched him play with his children, she thought he might be right.
* * *
It was strange being in Aleria. A part of him felt relaxed. There were no guards looking to kill him. No one here even knew who he was. It was odd to think this was his mother’s home. The people seemed nice but somewhat subdued. A stark contrast to the festival going on just south of the river, things in Aleria were calm and rather boring.
Taking a detour off the main road, Kern looked for a place to eat. A small bakery caught his eye. The shop smelled of freshly cooked bread. It was inviting, bathed in sunlight and warm colors. There was only room for three tables, each with two chairs, but the place did not feel cramped. The decorations were simple, avoiding clutter. An elderly elven woman smiled from behind the counter. Showing amazing strength and stamina for her age, she beat and kneaded the dough in her hands, then pulled apart smaller pieces to cook. “Fresh bread?” She asked, pulling out a pan from the cooling rack.
“That sounds wonderful,” Kern replied, handing her some coins. He broke a piece of warm bread and took in a deep, satisfied breath. The woman put a bowl of butter by his plate and went back to her work. Kern ate slowly, taking seconds when his first loaf was gone, and watched the people come and go. Most stopped for a few minutes, exchanging a few words about their families as they picked up enough bread and other baked goods to last the day. A young elven boy came in through the back door and began helping the old woman. She tousled his hair affectionately and handed him some dough to knead. They worked in synchronized silence, each anticipating the other’s movements and needs. “Could you take down the supplies for the next batch?” the woman asked.
“Sure, Grandmother,” the boy answered. He pulled out a step ladder and grabbed a large bag of flour from the top shelf of a wooden cabinet. As small as the shop was, most of the storage was vertical.
The front door opened, and the boy stopped, a look of dread and thinly veiled anger on his face. Four men, a mix of half elves and humans, came in, snickering, They grabbed food off the display shelves and ate without paying. The old woman turned her gaze down, her cheerful spirit gone. “There you are,” one of the men said. “You’re late.”
“I’m helping my grandmother.”
“Business must be very good if you can afford full rent.” The woman’s eyes shot open with panic.”
“You rotten son of a . . .”
“Alnerand, no,” The woman put a hand on the boy’s arm to stop him from advancing on the intruders.
The door opened, a young girl humming to herself as she entered. One look at the men inside and she turned and left without a word. The leader of the group smiled. “Or we could just stay here until you are done.”
“Just go,” the old lady said.
“Grandmother . . .”
“I’ll be fine. You can go.”
The boy ripped off his apron and left with the men. The old lady went back to her work, stepping up on the ladder to reach her pans. Kern rushed to her side. “Let me.” She smiled gratefully and indicated the items she still needed.
“Thank you. I’m sorry you had to see all that. I can see you aren’t from around here.” She looked pointedly at his clothes. “What brings you to Aleria?”
“Visiting family,” he answered honestly. “Who were those men?” Kern took at seat at the counter and accepted a sweet roll and warm mead.
The woman wiped the sweat from her brow and got back to work on baking. “The main one is our landlord. Originally his father owned the apartments where we live, but when he died, his son took over. He forces every family to provide one member as free labor in his other businesses and for personal projects, or he dramatically increases the rent to the point where no one can pay it.”
“Why don’t you move?”
“I’ve lived there all my life. Besides, there is no where else I can afford to live. He owns many of the apartments in the city, and the apartments he doesn’t own are much too expensive. His father was a good, kind man. He knew what we could afford and didn’t charge any more. But none of us had any contracts in writing. On months where we could pay more, we would. On those months where money was tight, he would let the rent slide. He was an honorable man and we were all grateful for him. His son is nothing like him. Without a contract, he could charge whatever he wanted, and he does. None of us noticed it at first. He said he would keep our rent the same, but he started to ask for free help on his projects. Of course none of us argued at first. We were accustomed to the give and take relationship we had before. It wasn’t long before he began “asking” for help every day. Then he stopped asking. Anyone who said they couldn’t work for him was immediately given a new lease to sign, one with a rent triple the current amount. But just listen to me go on and on. Can I get you anything else?”
The woman reminded him of Frex. He felt the strange urge to help her, but what could he do? If they were in Suriax, he could offer to kill the man, but that was illegal here. He thanked her for her time and the food and left her a substantial tip. She and her grandson would have to figure out a solution to the problem on their own. Right now he needed to take care of his own problems.
* * *
“There is bread in the pantry.”
“Thank you.” Marcy went to retrieve the bread and started making dinner. Thomas’ friends had a small, one bedroom home near the wall that bordered the Therion River. They were a young elf and human couple with two small children. The elven woman smiled and cut vegetables beside her, making small talk. She was very friendly, and Marcy wondered what Thomas told them about their situation. She would never want to put them at risk, but since no one knew Thomas was the one helping them, it was unlikely anyone would search out his acquaintances. A little girl came running into the kitchen and grabbed on to the woman’s legs.