“No, really,” I continued. “How many of these people have had the drop on us? How much easier would it have been if they just killed one of us? Seriously, we are an uncommonly lucky pair of fools when it comes down to it.”
“If we were so lucky, people would stop having the drop on us,” he countered. He’d really worked himself up and was noticeably holding back anger. I think he was really looking forward to sleeping. Very soon he’d be surpassing even my dislike of Slithers at this rate.
Swallowing my own bitterness, I tried to laugh. “Still, it’s pretty crazy we’re alive, all things considered.”
Volant said nothing but I could practically feel his eyes rolling.
Of course, the trail led toward the clearing from the day before, and any hope I had that this would end well evaporated like fog on a sunny day. The mess of tents looked the same as before, but now a decent fire was going to ward off the fall chill that was beginning to show itself. People laughed and sang as Volant and I hid at the camps edge. In the low light of night, it was hard to tell, but it seemed everyone was dressed in dark green clothing or had a fair bit of the color accenting whatever wardrobe they were wearing.
My heart hurt at how close I’d come to being with my family. It also hurt from a small feeling of betrayal as my parents watched us nearly arrested. I brushed it away, and continued to take in the camp we’d tried to leave behind.
At the center of the dirt packed circle sat a small group. A man, far too old to be camping in the woods, was sitting on a small wooden throne inside of a surprisingly well-constructed pergola. Slithers and a few well-muscled, armed-to-the-teeth men lounged about in a semblance of an honor guard. I nudged Volant who shrugged, and we began walking into the camp. It seemed silly we’d just slipped by to come back around so soon. The confidence worked until we got closer to the throne. We weren’t singled out, but a pair of men stopped us from coming to the throne. We were allowed within earshot though, strangely enough. The sentries must have been to only catch people seeming to sneak in, or maybe Volant and I looked grime covered enough to belong.
A woman wearing the same kind of robes one of our would-be-captors had on appeared from a tent. She walked up to the throne, followed by a prisoner neatly bound. “One known and proven Learner,” the woman said, saluting the old man.
“Thank you, Equal,” the man said gravely. “Put the Learner in the cart. He will make an excellent example when we need one.” Still seated, the man saluted back, and then gestured dismissively. “We leave in the morning,” he added as an afterthought.
“Understood, Equal,” said one of the Slithers in a chilling tone close to a hiss.
Not far away, the earth worker and the Slither came before another cage, quite similar to the one we’d ridden in when the Thumpers had us. It felt far too recent, but also like a lifetime ago. Unceremoniously, the blindfolded man was tossed in, trailing a cloud of vines and leaves as his bonds disintegrated. Since no one had paid us any attention, we went and found a semi-abandoned fire and waited the short time till morning.
True to the old man’s word, the large force of rag-tag soldiers broke camp at sunrise to the sound of banging drums and even a gong every ten minutes or so. Dog’s howled at the noise while their masters packed. By noon, a pair of horses were hitched to the rolling prison. Those finished breaking camp already came by to ogle and sneer at the cage. Others were more circumvent, passing the wagon from a distance and trying to watch out of the corner of their eyes.
We followed the camp as they left what had been a semi-permanent home, and my heart hurt further as we distanced ourselves yet again from Erset. The war camp was cutting its path out of the forest, a contingent of Naturals in the front acting like royalty. No one seemed to notice the two of us as we slowly integrated into the groups march.
Smoldering pieces of grass ground underfoot, smelling faintly of a campfire as we did our best to march. The blackened ground filled me with dismay. Even the most jaded citizen of Erset would be appalled at the scorched trail these people were burning in their wake. The rest of Balteris didn’t call us Erset citizens “tree lovers” for no reason. While I watched the ground, a constantly shifting crowd slowly moved about the wagon that Volant and I were attempting to inconspicuously follow.
Of course, none of the Slithers came near the wagon or they would have spooked the horses, but just about everyone else from the small army seemed to find time to come taunt the captured Learner. Seeing a mirror of what could be my fate, I stayed close to the wagon and kept an eye on the fellow in case there was anything I could do to help.
Before long, one of the head-to-toe green robed men was riding next to the cart. Sizing up the crowd, he began to speak in a loud, honey laced voice. Immediately, it grated on me. “Here is one of the vile Learners! Caught in the act of attacking a poor, humble book seller,” the man projected. “See how he looks down upon you? Look and see our enemy!” At the man’s words, the caravan of make-shift soldiers and their families closed in, bunching up around the wagons iron bars and slowing to a crawl.
I bit back a retort, waiting to see what came next.
“Note how his hands are free! Did we bind them? No. Did we chop them off, like what has been done to our gifted brothers and sisters by his hate-mongering friends? No, we did not. And yet, he sits here, fully capable of escape, or revenge for his imprisonment, but does nothing. These Learners,” he gestured towards the cart dismissively, “are too self-centered to do anything by themselves. They value their lives beyond all others around them, and are too cowardly to even risk their own for freedom.” He sneered at the crowd in disgust. “If that was one of our gifted brothers or sisters trapped in a cage, surrounded by our enemy, what would they do with free hands? Would they sit and wait with selfish thoughts? No! They would act. Even if the chance to escape was slim. Even if it was certain death, they would still fight to die free.”
The crowd cheered, applauding their shared courage. Then and there, I nearly ended the green clad speaker before the rational part of my mind kicked in. Of course, they wanted him to do something stupid. The orator wasn’t even really there for the crowd, I realized. They hoped he would get the Learner to do exactly what he said he was too cowardly too. Then, they would have a martyr if anyone died, and the perfect example solidifying the axe they had to grind against Learners. Conniving little rat.
Without being able to talk openly with Volant, I grew restless as we continued even further away from Erset. It wasn’t fair we’d gotten so close to my home, only to leave it again. On top of that, I grew irritated at the constant sting of smoke in my eyes from the strip of ground being burnt at the front of the cavalcade. To pass the time, I tried to channel as subtly as possible. Ever so slowly, time dragged by while I practiced placing tiny amounts of Skill in each finger trip.
The days dragged. Much to my surprise, we entered Tryst and began to skirt the grasslands. Even the Naturals didn’t try to burn their way through here, instead flattening great swathes at a time with a mixture of earth and wind manipulation, and some good old-fashioned stomping. Besides my Skill practice, my only other entertainment was the Reviler. I still hadn’t caught his real name, but Reviler seemed too appropriate to pass up in my melodramatic state.
Volant and I whispered jokes about his insane monologues when we were separated enough from the crowds. Around noon each day, and sometimes once more just before we stopped for the night, he would come and preach to whoever was around about the evils of Learners. Some days it was religious dogma, others less so. Always rude and entertaining.
We realized the flaw in my lack of a plan as one night we discussed attempting to turn back and abandoning the Learner to his fate. But even if we wanted to, there was no way to get away from the army without being incredibly sneaky. Nearly a week of travel went by before we began to get truly concerned. Late in the evening, a day after we’d seen one of the Soft Steppers flattened tent sites with it’s permanent town hall, our caravan’s path d
oubled in width. I overheard a woman speaking with the driver of the cage.
“One of the other groups has joined us, also from Erset,” she said gaily.
“That’s great news, Equal!” The driver replied with genuine glee. “I’m sure we will run into others soon. And from there, Brod will be exterminated. All of those Learners and their sympathizers in that unnatural lake. It makes my blood boil just thinking about it!”
Wonderful, I thought gloomily. Xylex wasn’t messing around with getting this war rolling, and we’d somehow ended up in this rag tag army.
More curious onlookers came to see the captured Learner. The Reviler doubled his efforts, being sure to go longer than his previous sessions, and showing up at least twice a day. Being more bored than I thought possible listening to him abuse the Learner, I began antagonizing him in slight ways while he went about his ranting. My control was getting much better. Little bursts of Skill, shot with exceptional accuracy.
I pretended to yawn with a finger aimed just right. I released, knocking off his hat ever so neatly. Rinse and repeat when he put the hat back on. By the end of the speech, I was chuckling to myself, barely repressing out-right laughter as his eyes burned with fury. He was losing credibility with the crowd, both from the way he spoke, and the way he reacted to his hat.
The following session, shortly before lunch the next day, the Reviler had left his hat wherever he spent his time when not shouting about the evil nature and dishonorable ways of Learners. Still fuming, he delivered quite an impressive speech. Minus the parts where he inexplicably hopped about. To anyone paying attention, the prisoner did absolutely nothing. To anyone looking a bit more closely at those around, one might have noticed a rather concentrated look on my face though, and a conveniently pointed pair of fingers consistently aimed at the Reviler’s left foot. His glare graduated to a blazing rage, but he couldn’t catch the prisoner doing anything to match with his stinging foot.
Twenty-seven
Outside of the Reviler’s visits, I became melancholy. Volant stayed close, but we’d reached a point of no return on making it back to Erset. I’d been so close to seeing my family, and he understood how much that had meant to me.
Days passed excruciatingly slowly as we marched along. I chipped away carefully at the corner of the iron cage with small, controlled Skill until I was fairly certain a gentle kick would have the Learner free. I stopped antagonizing the Reviler when he came to preach and rail against the prisoner, and he in turn began wearing a new, sharply shaped green hat.
My Skill was being honed into a razor-sharp legitimate extension of my will. Even while daydreaming back at the school, I’d never imagined this kind of control and stamina would have been possible. When I had lost track of the days, and how many terrible meals we’d been fed by the local cook, another four militia groups had joined the now enormous caravan. This was nothing compared to when we finally came to a stop within what could only be called a war camp.
Men strode about full of swagger and unease. At least a dozen fights broke out at our arrival, either incoming soldiers proving their worth, or the already settled ones testing the mettle of the new comers. When enough noses had been broken to establish our caravan’s place among the first arrivals, no one actually seemed to know what to do.
Riders went back and forth, men in uniforms of dark green and brown tried to look important when a message arrived. Tailored, uncomfortable and quite intimidating. The Reviler came by, not having much else to do, and gave a half-hearted session on why Learners deserved unimaginable pain and suffering. Not many listened. A few of the other cells who had been hiding elsewhere in Balteris made a point of sending their higher ups to eye the captured Learner. It was becoming apparent that this prisoner was the first Learner most of these people had seen. Here Volant and I were, hiding within Balteris’ first standing army since the Splintering, and it was made up of the scared and uneducated. Unsurprisingly, they all were a little disappointed in what they found in the cage.
A particularly disparaging man, fat and dark skinned with wide set eyes and a monstrous mustache stared in at the Learner with an ugly look. “This piece of slime?” He asked the Reviler. “Him? The enemy we must face now, or forever be enslaved to?”
“He may not look like much,” the Reviler conceded, “but he is still just as devious as any Learner. Even now, he watches us, see?”
“As odd as this may sound,” the Learner said, “I have never tried to enslave anyone.”
General Fat, as I decided to call the man, looked on with disbelief. “What a horrible creature,” he huffed.
I sighed, finally convinced that there must be something in all of their water or food. No one in their right mind should be able to see a guy caged like this, and assume he’s anything but a victim. Both took a step back from the bars, whispering to each other too low for me to hear. A few coins were passed from General Fat to the Reviler, and the latter then turned his back to me, staring off into the distance. A double-edged dagger appeared in the general’s hand as he stepped closer to the cage. He flipped it over, point held between two fingers, ready to throw.
I nearly laughed at the absurdity as he sighted through the bars at the Learner, an evil grin twinkling in his eyes. It was straight from some play. I gathered Skill into my fingertips.
“One death is not enough for you, demon spawn” he growled, pulling back and then throwing the gleaming dagger.
I flicked one wrist up, releasing a wide, palm up wave that swatted the dagger mid flight, harmlessly bouncing it up towards the ceiling. As it fell, I sliced my hand discreetly, the man’s neck sprouting a cut matching the motion. A soft, sickening noise followed as he tried to take a bloody breath.
Wide eyes stared in surprise as blood began to run down his neck. A thump announced General Fat’s acquaintance to the ground. The Reviler turned in mock surprise, which was then replaced with actual surprise when he saw a that the wrong person was dead. A huge grin spread across his face, despite the twist in expectations. He walked to the gurgling corpse, and bent down to examine it.
“Oh, little Learner,” he said standing back up. “You finally, ever so finally did it. This’ll be fun. I’ve always wanted to see what a Learner’s brain looks like”
I remained still, waiting to see if anyone noticed it was me, not the Learner who did the mustachioed man in. The prisoner said nothing back, obviously confused. My mind was racing with possibilities. I could see Volant knew what actually happened out of the corner of my eye, and could also seem him slowly moving closer to me. Most likely they would try and kill the Learner now. But his hands had found the knife and the Reviler didn’t seem to notice.
Dramatically, the Reviler turned away, and composed his face into a mask of terror, the smile only able to be seen in his eyes. “Murder!” His face twisted with effort. He sank to his knees next to the somewhat alive man, taking the time to tilt the dying man’s neck open further, speeding up his death. People rushed around us. Panic erupted.
Unlike the Reviler, who now was contending for the evilest person I’d ever met, the crowd was genuinely upset. More and more people rushed over as the cry of murder was taken up.
When a large enough group was gathered, including a smug looking old man I recognized as none other than the leader who had imprisoned the Learner, the Reviler stood up. Blood splattered bright red against his dark green suit. “Scum! God spawn! Left handed monstrosity!” he cried out. “You will pay for these transgressions against the Equals!”
All heads swiveled to look at the Learner. As I ran through the different scenarios, a thought occurred. Not a good one. Both sides of the cage had distinctly weakened bars thanks to my previous tampering. I’d hoped to use it as a means of rescue when the time came. Now though, the iron box seemed to be the only protection between a mob ready to do some lynching.
The Reviler’s latest audience turned from shock to outrage. Fifteen or so swords were drawn, and some ingenious and well-prepared kid had a p
erfectly respectable rope tied into a noose. Shouting drowned out whatever words the Reviler had been hoping to spew. Steel glinted in the sun as they advanced on the wagon as one.
“Execute him!” one man yelled.
“Torture till morning!” another countered.
“Hang him!” the rope carrying kid cried gleefully.
“Hang him from what?” shouted a familiar voice. “There’s nothing out here for a good hanging.” I turned and saw Volant, looking as much the part of an Equal soldier as anyone else here.
Shouting still continued, but the few closest to me pulled up short at the sight of the blonde Natural. As nonchalantly as I’d ever seen a man do anything, Volant slid between the advancing crowd and the cage. All eyes were now on him, though the shouting about what to do with the Learner was directed to my friend who was looking surprisingly authoritative.
I saw the old general whisper something to the Reviler, who then attempted to push his way through the crowd towards Volant, yelling something unintelligible despite the crowd’s angry back and forth.
“We will have to take him to a proper spot for hanging, eh?” Volant shouted from the front of the wagon as he hitched the two horses up. Most seemed amiable with any method, but the boy with rope was quickly developing his own fan base for the hanging and they cheered enthusiastically.
“I believe gallows is being built up on the camp’s west side,” Volant commented. Before anyone could object, and it certainly looked like the Reviler was attempting to, the Learner’s cage was rolling past the crowd of onlookers.
A chant went up as they followed. “Hang him! Hang him! Hang him!” They yelled in unison, sending shivers down my spine.
But it was Volant driving, and I was feeling infinitely better about the situation. I followed close behind the wagon. Noticeably, he began to pick up speed. Those who would be the first to lynch the Learner had to start running to keep up. With a burst of effort, I sped up and jumped onto the back of the wagon, being careful not to grab onto the weakened bars. I turned towards the panting crowd, hand outstretched. “Toss me the rope!” I shouted.
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