The Meek Valley IncidentStories for on the go!
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JUSTIN
Justin looked up the length of the curved sword pointed down at his throat. The younger man holding the hilt looked like he was trying harder than he needed to at appearing threatening, considering the all-black scout’s uniform he was wearing. Almost wearing, Justin corrected when he realized he was looking at the man’s face. The scout was dark haired, slim built, and had the typical Opattan features of rounded, brown eyes, high cheekbones, and skin that had been tanned from outdoor labor for generations. The sword in his hand was shaking badly for a scout – meaning that Justin could see the tremor. There was a chance the sword’s vibration was due to the amount of chains Justin was currently locked into, but more likely the tremor could be attributed to the cold so that wasn’t enough information to get arrogant about. Justin was also sporting more bruises than he usually had after a bad month and he wasn’t in the mood for collecting more because of whatever this latest intimidation game was all about. The guards had done enough gloating during the walk to wherever here was, although that had reduced considerably in the past three days.
“You’re going to help me,” the young scout whispered the command. Justin scoffed a laugh at him. “You will help me or I’ll kill you right now,” the scout threatened quickly.
Justin assessed the uniform, and the young man in it, and then lifted his chin to expose his throat to the tip of the sword. He figured he was likely a few years older than the scout, probably outweighed him by more than half, and was taller than him by more than a head, but Justin was chained and the scout wasn’t, and only one of them had a sword. The scout’s first demand had been a request for help, and Justin wasn’t in a position to care.
A lot of things flashed across the young man’s face as he looked down at the man he was trying to intimidate, the last of which was the expected collapse of whatever it was he was trying to accomplish with threats. The tip of the sword dropped – not far enough to bite into the snow, Justin noted – but enough to no longer be a threat. Justin scoffed at the scout again and went back to counting the links of the chain tying him to the steel wagon that the rest of the prisoners were riding in.
The scout looked like he was going to say something else, but he just sighed and slouched and then slid his sword back into the scabbard. After a moment of standing there, words he never said flashing behind his eyes, he glanced around the sleeping camp. His eyes paused on the watchers who were facing out toward the trees and he shook his head that none of them were looking toward the prisoners as he pulled his mask down from where it had been sitting on top of his head. He stepped away from Justin and sat down, leaning against the wagon wheel nearest to where Justin was chained.
“Stones and mortar, all to dust,” he muttered, knocking himself gently in the forehead with his own fist a few times.
“Tor?”
One of the women in the cart – barely so, but still older than the little girl – looked out through the cage as well as she could and down to where the scout was sitting. Justin looked up from counting links and watched the young man twist his neck to look up at her and then shush her. She reached out and he held her hand as well as he could through the bars without standing up, not drawing attention. They spoke together too quietly to overhear. It wasn’t a conversation that needed words to understand, though.
Justin looked at the lone scout in a new light: deserter. That wasn’t going to go over well with the rest of the scouts in his troop, or the army the scout troop belonged to. It did, however, explain why a uniform Justin knew should usually be associated with group activities was wrapped around a man who was here by himself.
The woman in the wagon said something that made the scout laugh and he dropped his head to keep the sound low. The chuckle stopped suddenly when the mask lifted enough to see that Justin was watching them. The young man stood, pressed the backs of her fingers against the smooth part of his mask that covered his forehead before releasing her hand, and then walked back to the fires and the guards.
He stooped and picked out a water flask and a rations packet from one of the guards' packs. The guard sitting beside the pack almost argued before looking, but then saw the scout uniform and politely asked if there was anything else the young man might need or want. The scout never replied. Justin lost sight of him between the trees as he walked out of camp.
Ten minutes later, the same quiet steps approached from the opposite side of Justin to the camp and stopped a sword blade’s distance away. Again.
Expecting the same metallic view he’d had of the scout earlier, Justin wasn’t sure if he should be amused or surprised when he turned and the young man was just looking at him. With a sigh that left him slouching, the scout took a step into striking radius, and then another step into easy arm’s reach, and then sat down back to back with Justin. A couple of the guards looked over when Justin jerked out of surprise and his chains rattled loudly.
“They can’t see me back here. You’re big enough to make a good wall,” the scout stated, his voice too low to carry words beyond Justin’s shoulder. “All I’m asking is that you at least hear me out.”
Justin looked up the length of the curved sword pointed down at his throat. The younger man holding the hilt looked like he was trying harder than he needed to at appearing threatening, considering the all-black scout’s uniform he was wearing. Almost wearing, Justin corrected when he realized he was looking at the man’s face. The scout was dark haired, slim built, and had the typical Opattan features of rounded, brown eyes, high cheekbones, and skin that had been tanned from outdoor labor for generations. The sword in his hand was shaking badly for a scout – meaning that Justin could see the tremor. There was a chance the sword’s vibration was due to the amount of chains Justin was currently locked into, but more likely the tremor could be attributed to the cold so that wasn’t enough information to get arrogant about. Justin was also sporting more bruises than he usually had after a bad month and he wasn’t in the mood for collecting more because of whatever this latest intimidation game was all about. The guards had done enough gloating during the walk to wherever here was, although that had reduced considerably in the past three days.
“You’re going to help me,” the young scout whispered the command. Justin scoffed a laugh at him. “You will help me or I’ll kill you right now,” the scout threatened quickly.
Justin assessed the uniform, and the young man in it, and then lifted his chin to expose his throat to the tip of the sword. He figured he was likely a few years older than the scout, probably outweighed him by more than half, and was taller than him by more than a head, but Justin was chained and the scout wasn’t, and only one of them had a sword. The scout’s first demand had been a request for help, and Justin wasn’t in a position to care.
A lot of things flashed across the young man’s face as he looked down at the man he was trying to intimidate, the last of which was the expected collapse of whatever it was he was trying to accomplish with threats. The tip of the sword dropped – not far enough to bite into the snow, Justin noted – but enough to no longer be a threat. Justin scoffed at the scout again and went back to counting the links of the chain tying him to the steel wagon that the rest of the prisoners were riding in.
The scout looked like he was going to say something else, but he just sighed and slouched and then slid his sword back into the scabbard. After a moment of standing there, words he never said flashing behind his eyes, he glanced around the sleeping camp. His eyes paused on the watchers who were facing out toward the trees and he shook his head that none of them were looking toward the prisoners as he pulled his mask down from where it had been sitting on top of his head. He stepped away from Justin and sat down, leaning against the wagon wheel nearest to where Justin was chained.
“Stones and mortar, all to dust,” he muttered, knocking himself gently in the forehead with his own fist a few times.
“Tor?”
One of the women in the cart – barely so, but still older than the little girl – looked out through the cage as well as she could and down to where the scout was sitting. Justin looked up from counting links and watched the young man twist his neck to look up at her and then shush her. She reached out and he held her hand as well as he could through the bars without standing up, not drawing attention. They spoke together too quietly to overhear. It wasn’t a conversation that needed words to understand, though.
Justin looked at the lone scout in a new light: deserter. That wasn’t going to go over well with the rest of the scouts in his troop, or the army the scout troop belonged to. It did, however, explain why a uniform Justin knew should usually be associated with group activities was wrapped around a man who was here by himself.
The woman in the wagon said something that made the scout laugh and he dropped his head to keep the sound low. The chuckle stopped suddenly when the mask lifted enough to see that Justin was watching them. The young man stood, pressed the backs of her fingers against the smooth part of his mask that covered his forehead before releasing her hand, and then walked back to the fires and the guards.
He stooped and picked out a water flask and a rations packet from one of the guards' packs. The guard sitting beside the pack almost argued before looking, but then saw the scout uniform and politely asked if there was anything else the young man might need or want. The scout never replied. Justin lost sight of him between the trees as he walked out of camp.
Ten minutes later, the same quiet steps approached from the opposite side of Justin to the camp and stopped a sword blade’s distance away. Again.
Expecting the same metallic view he’d had of the scout earlier, Justin wasn’t sure if he should be amused or surprised when he turned and the young man was just looking at him. With a sigh that left him slouching, the scout took a step into striking radius, and then another step into easy arm’s reach, and then sat down back to back with Justin. A couple of the guards looked over when Justin jerked out of surprise and his chains rattled loudly.
“They can’t see me back here. You’re big enough to make a good wall,” the scout stated, his voice too low to carry words beyond Justin’s shoulder. “All I’m asking is that you at least hear me out.”
TOR
It had been a long month.
Justin had been ashore for a regular resupply, only joining the landing party because one of his drills had broken and Opat had decent enough steel until he could get to Leshnat for the best replacement. It was supposed to have been a day in the nearest city and then back out to the Gem to continue down the coast.
Instead, he and three other crewmen had been hit with whatever tranquilizing darts were favored in the area. They’d all woken up tied with ropes and in the steel cage on the wagon Justin had now been trudging behind for the past two weeks. They’d all gotten clear of the ropes and cage easy enough, but hadn’t been able to find a familiar landmark to get back to the coast, and no familiar stars due to the constant cloud cover. Then they’d just gotten lost and been rounded up, hit with darts and beaten, and woken up back in the cage.
Of course they’d gotten out again a few times in the weeks following. Rendan had been killed the final time they’d escaped the cage, when they’d been even more lost, two weeks from the coast and still under continuous clouds. After again being rounded up, hit with darts and beaten, the remaining crew members had been shackled into chains ratcheted to the wagon and pulled behind the cage. Lark had simply died within the first week of walking. He was old and the chains were heavy.
Rourke and Justin had been the last of the crew members and they’d done well, but then Rourke turned a foot early into the morning a few days ago and hadn’t been able to walk with the way it was bent around. Justin had carried his friend since childhood for the rest of the day, Rourke arguing the whole way, but the guards refused treating the injury and threatened to kill Rourke when he couldn’t keep up. Justin refused to lose a friend.
The little girl in the wagon’s cage had woken everyone with her screams the next morning. Rourke had twisted himself up in his chains and managed to hang himself on the back of the wagon as everyone slept.
This scout the woman in the wagon had called Tor, who had just settled against Justin’s back as if the larger man was a chair, had joined the group this afternoon. The rest of his troop was nowhere to be seen, which was something Justin knew wasn’t typical for scouts because the ones he’d seen usually travelled in packs of four. Then again, the ones he’d seen usually wore the gold or green uniforms issued to them for serving on Opat’s prairies and coast, so maybe the mountain scouts with their black uniforms did things differently.
At the time Tor slipped into the ranks of guards, Justin hadn’t bothered to think about it due to the more pressing issue of slogging through the deepening snow and trying to figure out which mine he and the rest of the collected strong backs were heading to. At an iron mine he’d have access to all the tools he needed and likely some kind of rail track to follow for hauling the ore to the coast for transport or smelting, but a gemstone mine or one of the stone quarries and he’d likely labor hard and then die after a few months… or years.
Justin jerked on the chains on purpose and glared at the guards who were staring at him with their hands on their sword hilts. If he kept drawing attention or stood up, they would come over and likely beat him again. If he quieted, he had a chance to get his hands on the sword the scout was not only wearing but had just delivered. The blade on that sword would make short work of fully cracking the chipped chain link in the cheap Korballi-made steel Justin was wearing. Justin jerked the chains one more time and then settled, counting the links as he’d done every night, and the guards eventually turned back toward their fire or out toward the trees, muttering annoyance with him as they did.
“My sister stole bread for our grandmother because they couldn’t afford to buy it anymore,” Tor said, and Justin felt him shrug one shoulder. “It was such a terrible crime that she was sentenced to two years in the Meek River diamond mine, just on the other side of this next pass.”
Justin kept his back rigid, but the hope he’d been holding on to for getting placed in an iron mine died painfully when it extinguished.
“I can’t do nothing and just leave her. I don’t have anyone else,” Tor continued. “I don’t have the chips to buy her freedom from these guards. My relationship with our extended family is… tenuous I guess is the best word. Even if I could buy her freedom right now, I don’t have any way to get her out of Opat and away from the arrest if I don’t pay for that too, which I also obviously can’t afford.”
Justin noticed one of the guards was watching him as he carefully tested his reach to see if he could get his hands around his hip to where the scout’s sword was sitting. He glared at the guard and scratched at his waistband as if he’d had an itch he needed to stretch the limits of the links to reach. He needed a way to silence the chains from clinking whenever he moved or he would keep bringing the guards’ attention to himself… or he just needed to move quickly enough to get the scout’s sword and then it wouldn’t matter if he had the guards’ attention or not. Something about how relaxed the scout leaned on his back told him trying to be faster might not work tonight, though.
“I’ve been following the wagon since she was put in it a week ago,” Tor said. “We both grew up in that last village you walked through. I’ve never been to the coast, but my sister has.”
It had been a long month.
Justin had been ashore for a regular resupply, only joining the landing party because one of his drills had broken and Opat had decent enough steel until he could get to Leshnat for the best replacement. It was supposed to have been a day in the nearest city and then back out to the Gem to continue down the coast.
Instead, he and three other crewmen had been hit with whatever tranquilizing darts were favored in the area. They’d all woken up tied with ropes and in the steel cage on the wagon Justin had now been trudging behind for the past two weeks. They’d all gotten clear of the ropes and cage easy enough, but hadn’t been able to find a familiar landmark to get back to the coast, and no familiar stars due to the constant cloud cover. Then they’d just gotten lost and been rounded up, hit with darts and beaten, and woken up back in the cage.
Of course they’d gotten out again a few times in the weeks following. Rendan had been killed the final time they’d escaped the cage, when they’d been even more lost, two weeks from the coast and still under continuous clouds. After again being rounded up, hit with darts and beaten, the remaining crew members had been shackled into chains ratcheted to the wagon and pulled behind the cage. Lark had simply died within the first week of walking. He was old and the chains were heavy.
Rourke and Justin had been the last of the crew members and they’d done well, but then Rourke turned a foot early into the morning a few days ago and hadn’t been able to walk with the way it was bent around. Justin had carried his friend since childhood for the rest of the day, Rourke arguing the whole way, but the guards refused treating the injury and threatened to kill Rourke when he couldn’t keep up. Justin refused to lose a friend.
The little girl in the wagon’s cage had woken everyone with her screams the next morning. Rourke had twisted himself up in his chains and managed to hang himself on the back of the wagon as everyone slept.
This scout the woman in the wagon had called Tor, who had just settled against Justin’s back as if the larger man was a chair, had joined the group this afternoon. The rest of his troop was nowhere to be seen, which was something Justin knew wasn’t typical for scouts because the ones he’d seen usually travelled in packs of four. Then again, the ones he’d seen usually wore the gold or green uniforms issued to them for serving on Opat’s prairies and coast, so maybe the mountain scouts with their black uniforms did things differently.
At the time Tor slipped into the ranks of guards, Justin hadn’t bothered to think about it due to the more pressing issue of slogging through the deepening snow and trying to figure out which mine he and the rest of the collected strong backs were heading to. At an iron mine he’d have access to all the tools he needed and likely some kind of rail track to follow for hauling the ore to the coast for transport or smelting, but a gemstone mine or one of the stone quarries and he’d likely labor hard and then die after a few months… or years.
Justin jerked on the chains on purpose and glared at the guards who were staring at him with their hands on their sword hilts. If he kept drawing attention or stood up, they would come over and likely beat him again. If he quieted, he had a chance to get his hands on the sword the scout was not only wearing but had just delivered. The blade on that sword would make short work of fully cracking the chipped chain link in the cheap Korballi-made steel Justin was wearing. Justin jerked the chains one more time and then settled, counting the links as he’d done every night, and the guards eventually turned back toward their fire or out toward the trees, muttering annoyance with him as they did.
“My sister stole bread for our grandmother because they couldn’t afford to buy it anymore,” Tor said, and Justin felt him shrug one shoulder. “It was such a terrible crime that she was sentenced to two years in the Meek River diamond mine, just on the other side of this next pass.”
Justin kept his back rigid, but the hope he’d been holding on to for getting placed in an iron mine died painfully when it extinguished.
“I can’t do nothing and just leave her. I don’t have anyone else,” Tor continued. “I don’t have the chips to buy her freedom from these guards. My relationship with our extended family is… tenuous I guess is the best word. Even if I could buy her freedom right now, I don’t have any way to get her out of Opat and away from the arrest if I don’t pay for that too, which I also obviously can’t afford.”
Justin noticed one of the guards was watching him as he carefully tested his reach to see if he could get his hands around his hip to where the scout’s sword was sitting. He glared at the guard and scratched at his waistband as if he’d had an itch he needed to stretch the limits of the links to reach. He needed a way to silence the chains from clinking whenever he moved or he would keep bringing the guards’ attention to himself… or he just needed to move quickly enough to get the scout’s sword and then it wouldn’t matter if he had the guards’ attention or not. Something about how relaxed the scout leaned on his back told him trying to be faster might not work tonight, though.
“I’ve been following the wagon since she was put in it a week ago,” Tor said. “We both grew up in that last village you walked through. I’ve never been to the coast, but my sister has.”
TAM
Justin abruptly stopped ignoring the one-sided conversation.
“Our aunt took Tam every year since she was five years old. My sister used to help sell the rugs our aunt made. She even started making her own, plus other things. My sister sews really well,” Tor said, and then he sighed. “But our aunt died last year and my grandmother sold the wagon. She’s old and her mind slips, so she forgot about selling the rugs. Then the village’s Administrator took all the rugs for taxes. That’s why they ran out of chips and Tam ended up stealing the bread.”
The scout shifted and Justin felt something press against his hip, opposite the side the sword was on. He glanced down and saw the stolen rations and water flask.
“It’s funny; I steal water and food and get asked if I want anything else. My sister does the same and gets sentenced to labor as a slave in one of the worst gemstone mines in Opat’s mountains,” Tor said. He shrugged and again leaned against Justin’s back with a sigh. “I patrol these mountains to make sure the mine roads are safe. There are a lot of thieves and the like around, each hoping to steal gemstones, so it’s actually somewhat dangerous to be walking around alone out here. None of these guards will follow if you’re too far ahead because they’re already a day late from the other delays you’ve caused. I’ve heard them talking that you’re a sailor. My sister knows the road to the coast. The army I’m supposed to be with is moving this way for its next sweep of the passes to the mines on this side of the range, so the challenge will only be to stay ahead of them and the scouts. We can do it if we leave tonight. I can’t give you directions because I don’t know them, and Tam won’t tell you anything because I’m going to tell her not to. I’m offering to get you safely back to the coast in exchange for you ensuring her safe passage out of Opat. I had ten minutes with those rations. If you trust me, start eating when you lie down and then pretend to sleep. I’ll understand that as there being an agreement between us. If you throw away the rations then I’ll know you didn’t take the offer.”
The scout’s weight lifted off Justin’s back, but he paused before standing.
“I’ve never seen anyone carry a man that far before,” he added, then he stood up and his quiet steps took him back to the edge of the wagon. He whispered to his sister and her distrustful glare landed on Justin for a moment. Then they parted and, using the wagon as cover from any of the guards seeing him, the scout started away from the camp and back along the road in the opposite direction they’d been travelling.
Justin watched the young man go. The scout was smart – gearblocked beyond all belief to trust a random stranger in chains – but smart enough to do it so there wasn’t any other choice for Justin but to help him. Justin drew the same wary glances from the guards that he always got whenever he moved enough to rattle the chains, but all he did was lie down with his back to the fire like he did every night. He wasn’t close enough to get any heat from it anyway.
The ration pack had been tampered with but he couldn’t see how, just that the re-wrapping was hasty and loose. His stomach growled loudly. He’d only been allowed to eat once a day since waking up in the wagon. In every ration pack he’d been given so far, the bread was hard, the dried meat overly salty, and the vegetables were shrivelled and sour. At least now he had confirmation that the guards were eating the same terrible food they were giving the prisoners. That explained why they were so miserable.
An edge of the bread was broken, and one of the soft carrots was stiff in the middle.
Justin broke open the loaf first. A small knife handle had been shoved into it, the same black fabric wrapping it as on the scout’s sword hilt, and a stripe of steel running down one side. He set down the handle and worked at the carrot carefully, but that only produced a long, narrow pin-bar. The pin-bar was obviously only meant to be a pick for the simple locks on Justin’s chains. He ate the meat and vegetables first, testing that each thing bent easily before putting it in his mouth. There was a spot in the knife handle for the blade to lock into, and he didn’t want to find the blade by biting it.
He crumbled the bread before eating it. No blade. Unless the scout had given it to his sister… no. There hadn’t been any flash of metal and the rest of the prisoners would have already been fighting over any kind of weapon if it was in the wagon. Half of them had been awake when these conversations had been happening, and they were now watching either the road where the scout had disappeared, or the sister that he’d been talking to, and a few Justin could feel the stares of boring into his spine.
Justin picked the handle back up and looked at it again now that his eyes had adjusted to the darkness better. Still just a black handle with a steel stripe running the length of one side. He turned it around and the steel stripe shifted out a fraction of a fingerside. Justin held on to the fabric and turned the handle so the stripe faced the ground. The blade slid out and dangled from an unseen hinge. Justin tipped the handle to face the steel stripe up and the blade folded away. He tipped it back and the blade fell out. He turned it to study the blade’s pocket and saw a small spring lock that would fall into place once the blade was –
He grinned at the knife. One small tug, not even enough motion to clink the shackles at his wrists, and the blade was set. He tripped the lock’s small switch with his thumb and the blade hung loose again. There was a little loop of fabric that he’d thought was just a loose winding, but it fit snugly around the end of the knife and held the tip so the blade stayed in. Justin held the knife in his left hand and picked up the little pin-bar in his right. No time like right now to get out of here.
Justin abruptly stopped ignoring the one-sided conversation.
“Our aunt took Tam every year since she was five years old. My sister used to help sell the rugs our aunt made. She even started making her own, plus other things. My sister sews really well,” Tor said, and then he sighed. “But our aunt died last year and my grandmother sold the wagon. She’s old and her mind slips, so she forgot about selling the rugs. Then the village’s Administrator took all the rugs for taxes. That’s why they ran out of chips and Tam ended up stealing the bread.”
The scout shifted and Justin felt something press against his hip, opposite the side the sword was on. He glanced down and saw the stolen rations and water flask.
“It’s funny; I steal water and food and get asked if I want anything else. My sister does the same and gets sentenced to labor as a slave in one of the worst gemstone mines in Opat’s mountains,” Tor said. He shrugged and again leaned against Justin’s back with a sigh. “I patrol these mountains to make sure the mine roads are safe. There are a lot of thieves and the like around, each hoping to steal gemstones, so it’s actually somewhat dangerous to be walking around alone out here. None of these guards will follow if you’re too far ahead because they’re already a day late from the other delays you’ve caused. I’ve heard them talking that you’re a sailor. My sister knows the road to the coast. The army I’m supposed to be with is moving this way for its next sweep of the passes to the mines on this side of the range, so the challenge will only be to stay ahead of them and the scouts. We can do it if we leave tonight. I can’t give you directions because I don’t know them, and Tam won’t tell you anything because I’m going to tell her not to. I’m offering to get you safely back to the coast in exchange for you ensuring her safe passage out of Opat. I had ten minutes with those rations. If you trust me, start eating when you lie down and then pretend to sleep. I’ll understand that as there being an agreement between us. If you throw away the rations then I’ll know you didn’t take the offer.”
The scout’s weight lifted off Justin’s back, but he paused before standing.
“I’ve never seen anyone carry a man that far before,” he added, then he stood up and his quiet steps took him back to the edge of the wagon. He whispered to his sister and her distrustful glare landed on Justin for a moment. Then they parted and, using the wagon as cover from any of the guards seeing him, the scout started away from the camp and back along the road in the opposite direction they’d been travelling.
Justin watched the young man go. The scout was smart – gearblocked beyond all belief to trust a random stranger in chains – but smart enough to do it so there wasn’t any other choice for Justin but to help him. Justin drew the same wary glances from the guards that he always got whenever he moved enough to rattle the chains, but all he did was lie down with his back to the fire like he did every night. He wasn’t close enough to get any heat from it anyway.
The ration pack had been tampered with but he couldn’t see how, just that the re-wrapping was hasty and loose. His stomach growled loudly. He’d only been allowed to eat once a day since waking up in the wagon. In every ration pack he’d been given so far, the bread was hard, the dried meat overly salty, and the vegetables were shrivelled and sour. At least now he had confirmation that the guards were eating the same terrible food they were giving the prisoners. That explained why they were so miserable.
An edge of the bread was broken, and one of the soft carrots was stiff in the middle.
Justin broke open the loaf first. A small knife handle had been shoved into it, the same black fabric wrapping it as on the scout’s sword hilt, and a stripe of steel running down one side. He set down the handle and worked at the carrot carefully, but that only produced a long, narrow pin-bar. The pin-bar was obviously only meant to be a pick for the simple locks on Justin’s chains. He ate the meat and vegetables first, testing that each thing bent easily before putting it in his mouth. There was a spot in the knife handle for the blade to lock into, and he didn’t want to find the blade by biting it.
He crumbled the bread before eating it. No blade. Unless the scout had given it to his sister… no. There hadn’t been any flash of metal and the rest of the prisoners would have already been fighting over any kind of weapon if it was in the wagon. Half of them had been awake when these conversations had been happening, and they were now watching either the road where the scout had disappeared, or the sister that he’d been talking to, and a few Justin could feel the stares of boring into his spine.
Justin picked the handle back up and looked at it again now that his eyes had adjusted to the darkness better. Still just a black handle with a steel stripe running the length of one side. He turned it around and the steel stripe shifted out a fraction of a fingerside. Justin held on to the fabric and turned the handle so the stripe faced the ground. The blade slid out and dangled from an unseen hinge. Justin tipped the handle to face the steel stripe up and the blade folded away. He tipped it back and the blade fell out. He turned it to study the blade’s pocket and saw a small spring lock that would fall into place once the blade was –
He grinned at the knife. One small tug, not even enough motion to clink the shackles at his wrists, and the blade was set. He tripped the lock’s small switch with his thumb and the blade hung loose again. There was a little loop of fabric that he’d thought was just a loose winding, but it fit snugly around the end of the knife and held the tip so the blade stayed in. Justin held the knife in his left hand and picked up the little pin-bar in his right. No time like right now to get out of here.
LEAVING CAMP
Justin made sure his arm shackles were already on the ground when the ratchets clicked and the locks released. They didn’t clink as he slipped his wrists free and rolled his hands a few times just because he could. He curled a little tighter, as if cold, bringing his ankles closer to his hands without being obvious about it. The lock between his feet was less complex due to its duty of usually being dragged, and the ratchets in it sprang loose within seconds. The shackles on his ankles were caked with dirt and frozen over from the snow.
Justin used body heat to be able to get the pin-bar into the locks. The length of time needed to spring the half-frozen ratchets severely tried his patience as he worked at them. The only bonus was that most of the guards were sleeping by the time he was done so they didn’t notice him shifting to deal with the lock now resting on the center of his chest. This lock held the weighted chains over his shoulders (supposedly to keep him too physically tired to fight) and attached to the short lengths stopping him from extending his arms fully.
He moved slowly when he had to, keeping the clinking of the links to a minimum and only earning a few cursory glances from the two guards who were on watch over the camp. They both avoided looking his way for long, though, because he picked his sleeping place after noting where they were stationed to be certain that they would always have at least one fire in their line of sight when they looked his way. The first rule Justin had learned as a teenager of being competent at night watch was to protect your night vision by avoiding staring at fires.
The heavy lock on his chest ratcheted open. Justin slipped the chain ends off the hasp and gently lowered the lock on the ground. He held the final chains looped over him so they wouldn't slip loudly and then rolled full body to his back. Only his loose ankle shackles made any noise, and that was too quiet to draw more than a flicked glance from the nearest guard on watch – likely so the guard could say he’d been paying attention without lying when his shift ended. Justin pulled his feet clear and carefully freed his shoulder from the last of the chains, fighting to keep his lips closed as he grinned so that his teeth wouldn’t reflect if anyone looked his way.
He watched the sleeping camp with his eyes closed to slits, waiting for the next required glance from each of the guards on watch before rolling up to crouch beside his chains. He left the thin blanket – it didn’t provide any warmth, plus leaving it would give the appearance of him still lying there until daylight broke – and stepped over to the back of the wagon. The woman that the scout had been talking to sat up and stared at him. Unlike her brother, her visible trust level was hovering at a point closer to just killing Justin so that she could sleep better at night knowing he wasn’t in the world anymore, but she had shifted to the very back of the wagon by the cage door.
Justin approved of bringing her already.
Her wrist shackle clicked open after only a moment and she caught it as it fell, before it thumped to the wagon planking. The side of his lips curled in a half grin as she set the shackle onto the blanket of another prisoner so carefully that the links of her chain never made a sound. Justin clicked open the ratchets on the cage door. A hand shot out from a mass of blankets and clamped onto the wrist of the scout’s sister at the same time that her feet swung out to dangle off the end of the wagon.
“Take me with you, Tam,” the hard whisper commanded.
Justin looked at the eyes staring out from inside the blankets. Others in the wagon who were awake were watching the situation unfold, weighing their chances of escaping against what was going to happen to the one holding the woman he was helping. Tam twisted her hand and jerked her wrist out of the grip. Justin heard the deep inhalation that could only end in a scream. He slipped the loop free on the knife handle and snapped the blade locked while he was already moving to strike. He didn’t bother trying to find the throat in all the blankets, he just drove the blade up to the handle into the prisoner’s eye.
The scout’s sister gasped and shied away from him as she jumped off the wagon to land in the road, her feet already running. He caught her before she could take her second step and spun her back to lock her under his arm. He wiped the blade quickly on the blankets – no use having a knife that folded like this if blood got in its ratchets and it froze closed – and scanned to make sure that neither of the watching guards looked their way. He tucked the fabric loop back into place to hold the blade closed before dropping the knife into his pocket, and then closed the cage door and triggered the ratchets locked, grateful the noises were no louder than the usual clanks of everyone sleeping in the wagon as he ignored the plaintive stares of the other prisoners.
He pulled Tam down with him to crouch behind the wagon’s wheel and scanned over the spot where he'd bedded for the night, nodding to himself that nothing he'd left behind was out of place. Staying out of sight behind the wagon, and forcing Tam to do the same, he waited for the guard’s next cursory glance to finish before standing and hurrying down the road in the direction that the scout had gone.
They were six steps away from the wagon and still inside the area illuminated by fires when a scream ripped open the night. Justin glanced over his shoulder and saw the little girl that had screamed everyone awake when Rourke strangled himself was screaming and trying to pull her hand out of the shackle holding her in place. Her legs were kicking at the wagon planking in an attempt to get away from the one-eyed corpse Justin had recently created. Tam tried to twist to look back and Justin pulled her along harder, not slowing at all when she stumbled. The last thing he needed was for her to stare toward the fires and be trippingly useless beside him for the next few minutes. He closed the eye he’d glanced back with and kept moving forward.
The expected yells rose up. Thankfully confusion from the guards who’d been sleeping delayed their ability for organized activity, but Justin wasn’t gearblocked enough to believe these few minutes would give them the needed time to get the day ahead Tor said they should have. The guards shouted about thieves having attacked the camp, and then something about ghosts, and then someone got wise and checked under the thin blanket Justin had left lying in the snow.
Justin ignored all of it and focused on the road’s single set of footprints left in the opposite direction than the wagon had been travelling, pulling Tam beside him. The first moon was a thin silver sliver tonight and, unlike the other times he’d been free to get away, a clear sky. At least tonight he’d know immediately if he was being double crossed and led in the wrong direction.
Justin made sure his arm shackles were already on the ground when the ratchets clicked and the locks released. They didn’t clink as he slipped his wrists free and rolled his hands a few times just because he could. He curled a little tighter, as if cold, bringing his ankles closer to his hands without being obvious about it. The lock between his feet was less complex due to its duty of usually being dragged, and the ratchets in it sprang loose within seconds. The shackles on his ankles were caked with dirt and frozen over from the snow.
Justin used body heat to be able to get the pin-bar into the locks. The length of time needed to spring the half-frozen ratchets severely tried his patience as he worked at them. The only bonus was that most of the guards were sleeping by the time he was done so they didn’t notice him shifting to deal with the lock now resting on the center of his chest. This lock held the weighted chains over his shoulders (supposedly to keep him too physically tired to fight) and attached to the short lengths stopping him from extending his arms fully.
He moved slowly when he had to, keeping the clinking of the links to a minimum and only earning a few cursory glances from the two guards who were on watch over the camp. They both avoided looking his way for long, though, because he picked his sleeping place after noting where they were stationed to be certain that they would always have at least one fire in their line of sight when they looked his way. The first rule Justin had learned as a teenager of being competent at night watch was to protect your night vision by avoiding staring at fires.
The heavy lock on his chest ratcheted open. Justin slipped the chain ends off the hasp and gently lowered the lock on the ground. He held the final chains looped over him so they wouldn't slip loudly and then rolled full body to his back. Only his loose ankle shackles made any noise, and that was too quiet to draw more than a flicked glance from the nearest guard on watch – likely so the guard could say he’d been paying attention without lying when his shift ended. Justin pulled his feet clear and carefully freed his shoulder from the last of the chains, fighting to keep his lips closed as he grinned so that his teeth wouldn’t reflect if anyone looked his way.
He watched the sleeping camp with his eyes closed to slits, waiting for the next required glance from each of the guards on watch before rolling up to crouch beside his chains. He left the thin blanket – it didn’t provide any warmth, plus leaving it would give the appearance of him still lying there until daylight broke – and stepped over to the back of the wagon. The woman that the scout had been talking to sat up and stared at him. Unlike her brother, her visible trust level was hovering at a point closer to just killing Justin so that she could sleep better at night knowing he wasn’t in the world anymore, but she had shifted to the very back of the wagon by the cage door.
Justin approved of bringing her already.
Her wrist shackle clicked open after only a moment and she caught it as it fell, before it thumped to the wagon planking. The side of his lips curled in a half grin as she set the shackle onto the blanket of another prisoner so carefully that the links of her chain never made a sound. Justin clicked open the ratchets on the cage door. A hand shot out from a mass of blankets and clamped onto the wrist of the scout’s sister at the same time that her feet swung out to dangle off the end of the wagon.
“Take me with you, Tam,” the hard whisper commanded.
Justin looked at the eyes staring out from inside the blankets. Others in the wagon who were awake were watching the situation unfold, weighing their chances of escaping against what was going to happen to the one holding the woman he was helping. Tam twisted her hand and jerked her wrist out of the grip. Justin heard the deep inhalation that could only end in a scream. He slipped the loop free on the knife handle and snapped the blade locked while he was already moving to strike. He didn’t bother trying to find the throat in all the blankets, he just drove the blade up to the handle into the prisoner’s eye.
The scout’s sister gasped and shied away from him as she jumped off the wagon to land in the road, her feet already running. He caught her before she could take her second step and spun her back to lock her under his arm. He wiped the blade quickly on the blankets – no use having a knife that folded like this if blood got in its ratchets and it froze closed – and scanned to make sure that neither of the watching guards looked their way. He tucked the fabric loop back into place to hold the blade closed before dropping the knife into his pocket, and then closed the cage door and triggered the ratchets locked, grateful the noises were no louder than the usual clanks of everyone sleeping in the wagon as he ignored the plaintive stares of the other prisoners.
He pulled Tam down with him to crouch behind the wagon’s wheel and scanned over the spot where he'd bedded for the night, nodding to himself that nothing he'd left behind was out of place. Staying out of sight behind the wagon, and forcing Tam to do the same, he waited for the guard’s next cursory glance to finish before standing and hurrying down the road in the direction that the scout had gone.
They were six steps away from the wagon and still inside the area illuminated by fires when a scream ripped open the night. Justin glanced over his shoulder and saw the little girl that had screamed everyone awake when Rourke strangled himself was screaming and trying to pull her hand out of the shackle holding her in place. Her legs were kicking at the wagon planking in an attempt to get away from the one-eyed corpse Justin had recently created. Tam tried to twist to look back and Justin pulled her along harder, not slowing at all when she stumbled. The last thing he needed was for her to stare toward the fires and be trippingly useless beside him for the next few minutes. He closed the eye he’d glanced back with and kept moving forward.
The expected yells rose up. Thankfully confusion from the guards who’d been sleeping delayed their ability for organized activity, but Justin wasn’t gearblocked enough to believe these few minutes would give them the needed time to get the day ahead Tor said they should have. The guards shouted about thieves having attacked the camp, and then something about ghosts, and then someone got wise and checked under the thin blanket Justin had left lying in the snow.
Justin ignored all of it and focused on the road’s single set of footprints left in the opposite direction than the wagon had been travelling, pulling Tam beside him. The first moon was a thin silver sliver tonight and, unlike the other times he’d been free to get away, a clear sky. At least tonight he’d know immediately if he was being double crossed and led in the wrong direction.
JIN
The footprints suddenly branched suspiciously, continuing beside the road without looking like there was a break, but with a double-stepped path leading up to and away from the nearby trees. Justin jerked to a stop, Tam knocking into his side as he pulled her back, and looked at the other side of the road to find a similar double-stepped path over there. He didn’t see anything close to the snow so… there it was. Chest height on him, neck height on her. Not the bladed rope he’d heard some scouts carried, but still a black strand of silk rope that would knock over anyone coming this way.
Justin ducked under and continued. The yelling behind them wasn’t getting closer, but it also wasn’t getting further away. When he glanced back, torches were bobbing down the road. It looked like about half the guards were following. With his own weapons, that wouldn’t even be a challenge. With only a knife and the scout’s younger sister… he snarled as he looked forward and stared running again, pulling her to do the same beside him.
There were three more ropes. Justin was past the second one when he heard the guards chasing him run into the first one, and he was looking for the fourth when he heard them run into the second. The second had been at tripping height. The third had been creatively tied across a bend in the road to match the angle of a fallen tree on the side of the road; it was next to impossible to see, and would knock some men backwards while tripping others forwards.
Then he found the fourth one. Something was wrong with it. Justin felt the wrongness because he couldn’t see it, but it was wrong. He didn’t want to get close to it, and he didn’t want to put any extra tracks in the snow that showed how to get around it. Holding Tam’s arm to force her behind him, he took out the knife and snapped open the blade. Nothing happened when he pressed the flat of the blade down in the middle of the rope. The snow to his right twitched when he pressed the flat of the blade up under the middle of the rope. He released the tension, and the packed snow settled. He lifted the rope slowly, and some of the snow pack moved at the same place and then settled back when he let the pressure off the knife.
The fourth rope was tied across the road at just below Tam’s waist. Too high for her to climb over and too low to easily crouch under. The expectation would be for whoever came along to lift it or run headlong into it, which would trigger whatever hasty trap was waiting in the nearby snowbank. Justin checked with the knife to be certain there wasn’t anything tied under the rope, then dragged Tam down to crawl under, using the churned up snow of the wagon’s passing earlier that evening to cover the change in their tracks.
They were nearly a minute past where he expected a fifth rope to be when he started to feel like something was going even more wrong. The increased yelling as the guards encountered the third rope was barely enough to slightly lift the feeling. Justin slowed to a walk and started watching the trees to either side a lot closer than he had been, and returned the knife safely to his pocket. He was better at fighting with bare knuckles than with only one knife.
The scout was standing in the road, his back toward Justin and his mask up, held in place by the tip of a curved sword held by another man in the same black uniform. Tam sucked in a breath with a hiss. Justin looked down and saw recognition etched in her face, and the absolute opposite of welcome. Justin tucked her behind him and kept walking forward.
“Jin, she’s my sister. I had to do something,” Tor’s voice was conversational and even. Justin felt the gaze of the masked scout, Jin, run over him.
“Your sister needs a shave,” Jin replied. Justin saw Tor stretch taller, Jin’s sword tip pressing up into the soft skin where his jaw became his neck.
“I needed help getting her out of the cage,” Tor answered. “And help getting her out of Opat.”
“Then you should’ve asked, Tor,” Jin actually sounded disappointed.
“You wouldn’t have come.”
“You’re right,” Jin sighed. “But I could’ve slowed down the discovery that you’d left. I could’ve delayed the army diverting from patrol to come directly here because desertion is counted as an act of treason. Stones and mortar, Tor, I could’ve still helped you before it was a death sentence!”
Justin stopped walking when he felt Jin’s gaze land on him again. The sister peeped around his arm but stayed planted behind him. Jin scoffed and flicked his wrist, slapping Tor in the side of his head with the flat of the sword before Jin turned it back and sheathed the blade.
“If you hand them over now, and we go back to the –”
“No,” Tor interrupted.
“They’re criminals,” Jin stated.
“It’s Tam! She stole bread so she and Grams wouldn’t starve!”
“And what about him?” Jin jabbed a finger to point at Justin. Tor looked in the direction the finger was pointing, his assessment almost gentle, and then turned back to look at Jin with a shrug.
“He just wants to go home,” Tor said.
“What happens when you stop being useful for getting him home? What about if Tam stops being useful for him?” Jin crossed his arms at his chest, asking the questions that had been plastered on Tam’s face since before Justin had first opened the cage’s lock on the wagon.
“I’ll cut that stone when I have to,” Tor said and started pacing backwards toward where Justin and Tam were standing.
“You know I can’t let you leave,” Jin warned him.
“So give me time like you said you would,” Tor said, stopping beside his sister and pulling down his mask to cover his face. Jin shook his head and sighed, muttering under his breath. He walked over and stood in front of Justin, undoing his sword belt and clipping another of the fold-over knives to it before dropping his hand to hold it at his side.
“You owe me so much,” Jin pointed an accusing finger at Tor, and then he tucked his hand into a loose fist and tapped Justin’s shoulder. “There,” he stated, his tone petulant behind the mask. “I hit you first.”
Justin glanced at Tor and the scout nodded. Jin stiffened and tilted his chin up slightly. Justin shrugged and punched, knocking Jin unconscious before he even hit the ground. Tor picked up the weapons belt, hesitated for a moment, then reached inside a clever pocket that took up the entire back of Jin’s shirt. Tor pulled out a winding of black, silk rope. He tucked it into a similar pocket in his own shirt before thanking his friend and standing up.
“How long will he be out?” Tor asked.
“Until he wakes up,” Justin rasped, realizing after he spoke that it had been over a week since he’d said any words out loud. Tor nodded and strapped on the extra weapons belt.
“We’ll be better off going back toward –” he paused as the nearby boom of a small, black-powder demolition blast was followed up with screams and shouts. Justin stared at the scout, reassessing what he’d thought was a somewhat nervous and very young man. Apparently Tor had definitely only been cold when his sword was shaking earlier. “The camp,” Tor continued, finishing his sentence. “It’ll be easier to get through the guards than the army.” Tor nodded in each direction as he mentioned each enemy. “Can you fight or just brawl?” he added the question to Justin.
“Both, as required,” Justin answered, eyeing up that Tor now had both swords. The scout was watching him when Justin’s gaze lifted to the eyes behind the mask.
“Tam prefers straight blades. I’m assuming you do, too,” Tor stated. “We can get those from the guards.”
The footprints suddenly branched suspiciously, continuing beside the road without looking like there was a break, but with a double-stepped path leading up to and away from the nearby trees. Justin jerked to a stop, Tam knocking into his side as he pulled her back, and looked at the other side of the road to find a similar double-stepped path over there. He didn’t see anything close to the snow so… there it was. Chest height on him, neck height on her. Not the bladed rope he’d heard some scouts carried, but still a black strand of silk rope that would knock over anyone coming this way.
Justin ducked under and continued. The yelling behind them wasn’t getting closer, but it also wasn’t getting further away. When he glanced back, torches were bobbing down the road. It looked like about half the guards were following. With his own weapons, that wouldn’t even be a challenge. With only a knife and the scout’s younger sister… he snarled as he looked forward and stared running again, pulling her to do the same beside him.
There were three more ropes. Justin was past the second one when he heard the guards chasing him run into the first one, and he was looking for the fourth when he heard them run into the second. The second had been at tripping height. The third had been creatively tied across a bend in the road to match the angle of a fallen tree on the side of the road; it was next to impossible to see, and would knock some men backwards while tripping others forwards.
Then he found the fourth one. Something was wrong with it. Justin felt the wrongness because he couldn’t see it, but it was wrong. He didn’t want to get close to it, and he didn’t want to put any extra tracks in the snow that showed how to get around it. Holding Tam’s arm to force her behind him, he took out the knife and snapped open the blade. Nothing happened when he pressed the flat of the blade down in the middle of the rope. The snow to his right twitched when he pressed the flat of the blade up under the middle of the rope. He released the tension, and the packed snow settled. He lifted the rope slowly, and some of the snow pack moved at the same place and then settled back when he let the pressure off the knife.
The fourth rope was tied across the road at just below Tam’s waist. Too high for her to climb over and too low to easily crouch under. The expectation would be for whoever came along to lift it or run headlong into it, which would trigger whatever hasty trap was waiting in the nearby snowbank. Justin checked with the knife to be certain there wasn’t anything tied under the rope, then dragged Tam down to crawl under, using the churned up snow of the wagon’s passing earlier that evening to cover the change in their tracks.
They were nearly a minute past where he expected a fifth rope to be when he started to feel like something was going even more wrong. The increased yelling as the guards encountered the third rope was barely enough to slightly lift the feeling. Justin slowed to a walk and started watching the trees to either side a lot closer than he had been, and returned the knife safely to his pocket. He was better at fighting with bare knuckles than with only one knife.
The scout was standing in the road, his back toward Justin and his mask up, held in place by the tip of a curved sword held by another man in the same black uniform. Tam sucked in a breath with a hiss. Justin looked down and saw recognition etched in her face, and the absolute opposite of welcome. Justin tucked her behind him and kept walking forward.
“Jin, she’s my sister. I had to do something,” Tor’s voice was conversational and even. Justin felt the gaze of the masked scout, Jin, run over him.
“Your sister needs a shave,” Jin replied. Justin saw Tor stretch taller, Jin’s sword tip pressing up into the soft skin where his jaw became his neck.
“I needed help getting her out of the cage,” Tor answered. “And help getting her out of Opat.”
“Then you should’ve asked, Tor,” Jin actually sounded disappointed.
“You wouldn’t have come.”
“You’re right,” Jin sighed. “But I could’ve slowed down the discovery that you’d left. I could’ve delayed the army diverting from patrol to come directly here because desertion is counted as an act of treason. Stones and mortar, Tor, I could’ve still helped you before it was a death sentence!”
Justin stopped walking when he felt Jin’s gaze land on him again. The sister peeped around his arm but stayed planted behind him. Jin scoffed and flicked his wrist, slapping Tor in the side of his head with the flat of the sword before Jin turned it back and sheathed the blade.
“If you hand them over now, and we go back to the –”
“No,” Tor interrupted.
“They’re criminals,” Jin stated.
“It’s Tam! She stole bread so she and Grams wouldn’t starve!”
“And what about him?” Jin jabbed a finger to point at Justin. Tor looked in the direction the finger was pointing, his assessment almost gentle, and then turned back to look at Jin with a shrug.
“He just wants to go home,” Tor said.
“What happens when you stop being useful for getting him home? What about if Tam stops being useful for him?” Jin crossed his arms at his chest, asking the questions that had been plastered on Tam’s face since before Justin had first opened the cage’s lock on the wagon.
“I’ll cut that stone when I have to,” Tor said and started pacing backwards toward where Justin and Tam were standing.
“You know I can’t let you leave,” Jin warned him.
“So give me time like you said you would,” Tor said, stopping beside his sister and pulling down his mask to cover his face. Jin shook his head and sighed, muttering under his breath. He walked over and stood in front of Justin, undoing his sword belt and clipping another of the fold-over knives to it before dropping his hand to hold it at his side.
“You owe me so much,” Jin pointed an accusing finger at Tor, and then he tucked his hand into a loose fist and tapped Justin’s shoulder. “There,” he stated, his tone petulant behind the mask. “I hit you first.”
Justin glanced at Tor and the scout nodded. Jin stiffened and tilted his chin up slightly. Justin shrugged and punched, knocking Jin unconscious before he even hit the ground. Tor picked up the weapons belt, hesitated for a moment, then reached inside a clever pocket that took up the entire back of Jin’s shirt. Tor pulled out a winding of black, silk rope. He tucked it into a similar pocket in his own shirt before thanking his friend and standing up.
“How long will he be out?” Tor asked.
“Until he wakes up,” Justin rasped, realizing after he spoke that it had been over a week since he’d said any words out loud. Tor nodded and strapped on the extra weapons belt.
“We’ll be better off going back toward –” he paused as the nearby boom of a small, black-powder demolition blast was followed up with screams and shouts. Justin stared at the scout, reassessing what he’d thought was a somewhat nervous and very young man. Apparently Tor had definitely only been cold when his sword was shaking earlier. “The camp,” Tor continued, finishing his sentence. “It’ll be easier to get through the guards than the army.” Tor nodded in each direction as he mentioned each enemy. “Can you fight or just brawl?” he added the question to Justin.
“Both, as required,” Justin answered, eyeing up that Tor now had both swords. The scout was watching him when Justin’s gaze lifted to the eyes behind the mask.
“Tam prefers straight blades. I’m assuming you do, too,” Tor stated. “We can get those from the guards.”
BETTER TOGETHER
Justin grinned at the retreating backs of the three remaining guards. Tor had been beyond good at using both swords he carried, Justin now had his favored combination of two swords and a knife to back it up, and Tam had been surprisingly capable. Not surprising to Justin because the first thing Tor had done when the fighting started was throw a sword to her, but the two corpses in the snow in front of her still wore the same shocked expressions they’d had for their very short fight with her.
Justin dropped one sword, lifted the knife to his right hand as he was eyeing up the running guards, and then launched the knife after them. The one in the middle of the three starfished and then sprawled into the snow. Justin grinned wider as the guard who’d been last to retreat tripped on the body, scrambled in a panic to stand, tripped on themselves, and then finally got up and started running again.
“Don’t,” Tor cautioned when Justin knelt beside the nearest body and started searching his clothes for supplies. Justin arched an eyebrow, but continued checking pockets.
“The items they carry are either poisoned or made to break,” Tam stated. Justin quickly pulled his hands back and looked up to see if she was joking about the poison.
“Only take things you saw them using,” Tor said. “Anything else they carry is meant to hinder or kill escaped slaves and prisoners.”
Justin stood and looked down at each of the nine bodies in the road. He could recognize all of them easily and – now that he was actively thinking about it – could recall the items they’d taken to hand each night: who had provided the striker for the fire, who the others always asked for a kitchen knife, and all the other things that he now realized were single items distributed across all the individuals in the troop which, when assembled together, would make up a single set of supplies. He went from body to body and took the working, safe items he knew he needed and wrapped them into an impromptu satchel he made using a couple of jackets. Then he went around again and collected the things he’d seen handled but not used and wrapped them up the same way.
“What are you doing?” Tam demanded, stepping back and raising her sword when he approached close to her.
Justin sighed. He didn’t want to bother with the lengthy explanation of how useful decoy and broken items could be, especially since they’d likely be releasing the other prisoners and didn’t need that group being as well-armed and supplied as his group was. Rather than reaching to tie it onto her again, this time he held it out at arm’s reach toward her.
“Bring it,” he rasped.
“Put it on the ground and step away,” she answered.
Justin smirked at her, bowed formally, and set the bundle down. Tam waited until he was picking through the choice of swords scattered around, in case he could upgrade what he’d already found, before she lifted the improvised satchel and tied it around herself. Once he was comfortably armed, Justin picked up the bundle of useful things and tied it on himself.
Tor was already walking back up the road, Tam following, as Justin finished the knot in the middle of his chest. Justin glanced up at the clear sky, considering the option of quietly parting ways by simply ducking into the trees and walking away. It would take him months to get back to the coast on his own, dodging armies, villages, and scouts, and he’d likely starve to death as he didn’t know any of the local foliage and had only seen a few small animals during the past weeks.
“You’re better off with us and you know it,” Tor called back, not slowing his strides.
Justin shot a glance at the two of them before shaking his head. A few summers ago, he’d nearly gotten himself and his young cousin, Bernard, arrested. They’d been bored. Justin stole paint, rollers, and brushes from the local store – which had been closed but had easy locks to pick – and they’d gone down to the docks. An hour later, the seven passed-out drunks they’d passed had some of the worst cosmetics applications ever seen, and one side of one ship’s hull had been redesigned into something akin to a child’s drawing of a store-front selling (of all things) lady’s garments. The ship’s name, the Corseted Lady, may have had something to do with the idea. They’d been nabbed as vandals because they’d been laughing too hard to effectively run away, and Bernard’s father had collected them from the dock master’s offices.
“Next time, Bernard stays home with Adelle, and helps keep watch over his sisters,” Justin’s uncle had growled as they were being escorted to the ship that had been targeted. Justin had scoffed. He and his cousin snickered loudly as everyone rounded the ship to view the damages.
“Come on, Captain,” Justin had grinned at his uncle... and commander when they were on the wet. “He’s better off with me and you know it.”
Bernard and Justin both received a heavy cuff upside the back of the head from Bernard’s father, despite that he was also laughing, and had spent the rest of the night scrubbing and sanding the hull back to its proper condition under careful watch by both Bernard’s father and the militia. A few nights later, when his parents were busy, Adelle had been called to watch the girls and Bernard had again been trusted to Justin’s care.
Justin sighed and started following the siblings back toward the camp. He stopped for a moment to retrieve the knife he’d thrown, and upped his pace to the quick jog Tor set once he noticed Justin was following. Tor kept his sword out and simply cut the ropes he’d set on the road away from the camp, leaving behind nothing but uselessly short lengths.
Justin grinned at the retreating backs of the three remaining guards. Tor had been beyond good at using both swords he carried, Justin now had his favored combination of two swords and a knife to back it up, and Tam had been surprisingly capable. Not surprising to Justin because the first thing Tor had done when the fighting started was throw a sword to her, but the two corpses in the snow in front of her still wore the same shocked expressions they’d had for their very short fight with her.
Justin dropped one sword, lifted the knife to his right hand as he was eyeing up the running guards, and then launched the knife after them. The one in the middle of the three starfished and then sprawled into the snow. Justin grinned wider as the guard who’d been last to retreat tripped on the body, scrambled in a panic to stand, tripped on themselves, and then finally got up and started running again.
“Don’t,” Tor cautioned when Justin knelt beside the nearest body and started searching his clothes for supplies. Justin arched an eyebrow, but continued checking pockets.
“The items they carry are either poisoned or made to break,” Tam stated. Justin quickly pulled his hands back and looked up to see if she was joking about the poison.
“Only take things you saw them using,” Tor said. “Anything else they carry is meant to hinder or kill escaped slaves and prisoners.”
Justin stood and looked down at each of the nine bodies in the road. He could recognize all of them easily and – now that he was actively thinking about it – could recall the items they’d taken to hand each night: who had provided the striker for the fire, who the others always asked for a kitchen knife, and all the other things that he now realized were single items distributed across all the individuals in the troop which, when assembled together, would make up a single set of supplies. He went from body to body and took the working, safe items he knew he needed and wrapped them into an impromptu satchel he made using a couple of jackets. Then he went around again and collected the things he’d seen handled but not used and wrapped them up the same way.
“What are you doing?” Tam demanded, stepping back and raising her sword when he approached close to her.
Justin sighed. He didn’t want to bother with the lengthy explanation of how useful decoy and broken items could be, especially since they’d likely be releasing the other prisoners and didn’t need that group being as well-armed and supplied as his group was. Rather than reaching to tie it onto her again, this time he held it out at arm’s reach toward her.
“Bring it,” he rasped.
“Put it on the ground and step away,” she answered.
Justin smirked at her, bowed formally, and set the bundle down. Tam waited until he was picking through the choice of swords scattered around, in case he could upgrade what he’d already found, before she lifted the improvised satchel and tied it around herself. Once he was comfortably armed, Justin picked up the bundle of useful things and tied it on himself.
Tor was already walking back up the road, Tam following, as Justin finished the knot in the middle of his chest. Justin glanced up at the clear sky, considering the option of quietly parting ways by simply ducking into the trees and walking away. It would take him months to get back to the coast on his own, dodging armies, villages, and scouts, and he’d likely starve to death as he didn’t know any of the local foliage and had only seen a few small animals during the past weeks.
“You’re better off with us and you know it,” Tor called back, not slowing his strides.
Justin shot a glance at the two of them before shaking his head. A few summers ago, he’d nearly gotten himself and his young cousin, Bernard, arrested. They’d been bored. Justin stole paint, rollers, and brushes from the local store – which had been closed but had easy locks to pick – and they’d gone down to the docks. An hour later, the seven passed-out drunks they’d passed had some of the worst cosmetics applications ever seen, and one side of one ship’s hull had been redesigned into something akin to a child’s drawing of a store-front selling (of all things) lady’s garments. The ship’s name, the Corseted Lady, may have had something to do with the idea. They’d been nabbed as vandals because they’d been laughing too hard to effectively run away, and Bernard’s father had collected them from the dock master’s offices.
“Next time, Bernard stays home with Adelle, and helps keep watch over his sisters,” Justin’s uncle had growled as they were being escorted to the ship that had been targeted. Justin had scoffed. He and his cousin snickered loudly as everyone rounded the ship to view the damages.
“Come on, Captain,” Justin had grinned at his uncle... and commander when they were on the wet. “He’s better off with me and you know it.”
Bernard and Justin both received a heavy cuff upside the back of the head from Bernard’s father, despite that he was also laughing, and had spent the rest of the night scrubbing and sanding the hull back to its proper condition under careful watch by both Bernard’s father and the militia. A few nights later, when his parents were busy, Adelle had been called to watch the girls and Bernard had again been trusted to Justin’s care.
Justin sighed and started following the siblings back toward the camp. He stopped for a moment to retrieve the knife he’d thrown, and upped his pace to the quick jog Tor set once he noticed Justin was following. Tor kept his sword out and simply cut the ropes he’d set on the road away from the camp, leaving behind nothing but uselessly short lengths.
CROSSING CAMP
There had been forty guards when Tor started following the wagon. Ten were dead on the road, and the trio had circled the camp once already to pick off anyone who wasn’t inside the fire’s light. Some others had run away. Now there were twenty-three guards remaining, and all the prisoners in the wagon.
“The lynch walked the known world! In every place that people resided, he used his dark magic and twisted an animal into a monster to torment and torture the innocent! As they battled the cursed beasts, the lynch stole their riches and crops to feed his never-filled greed and hunger!”
The Leshnatti woman in the wagon who’d been muttering Cautionary Tales from her home country for most of the past month of being locked in the cage was now yelling the stories. Her tone had taken on a pitch leaving no doubt she was so far into her own delusions that she believed the fiction and had stopped understanding the tales were only fanciful creations to support the morals at the ends. Between her yelling about monsters, the already missing guards, and the absolute fear hanging on each surviving member of the guard troop that Tor was gone because scouts were hunting them, Justin assumed the remainder of the fight would be a mop-up. He’d never had a problem with using any advantage, and head-games were an advantage they needed with the eight-to-one odds currently against them.
“One beast walked upright like a man and was burdened by no less than six arms! Porcupine quills covered each arm, and could be thrown as knives, and the head of a hound sat upon its hideous shoulders!”
Justin smirked as he threw two of the knives he’d collected into the tight knot of guards in the middle of the camp. He hit both targets he was aiming for, satisfying his personal scores against the decision makers for first Lark – for being put in chains at his advanced age – and then for Rourke – for dying because of a broken leg that could’ve been easily set and plastered by any doctor. The one who’d ordered Lark put in chains died on his feet, toppling like a felled tree into the churned-up snow. The one who’d ordered Rourke to walk or die tried to pull out the knife. The blade snapped in the hurried motion, leaving half its length embedded, and the guard stared at the hilt and broken blade in his hand as he fell.
“Fengus deserved that,” Justin rasped. The few closest guards heard the muttering and looked in their direction.
Tor hissed out a reprimanding breath at their position being given away. Justin watched him disappear through the trees, Tam in tow, and waited exactly where about a third of the remaining guards were edging closer to. He crouched low to keep under the squinting stares as the guards tried to see into the dark after so much time between the fires, the running timer in the back of his mind telling him they were getting short on keeping their lead ahead of Tor’s friend.
On a whim, he set aside his weapons and scooped up a handful of snow. The woman in the cart was getting close to the part where poisonous spit got hurled out of some bird-monster’s beak at a bunch of villagers. He threw the handful so it was a scattered spray of snow just as she screamed like the bird-monster in the story. Half of the group dropped, wailing as if they’d been hit with hot oil. Justin grabbed his weapons and lunged out of the tree line into the edges of the fire’s light. He kept a stance that was low enough he would look like he was on all fours. The panicked guards barely fought as he swept in among them.
Tor leapt into view from above, dropping off the top of the cage like a hawk into the thickest side of the knot of guards that hadn’t approached the tree line. Tam summersaulted out of the trees into the group that Tor was fighting, slashing out from her knees as her brother’s blades clashed above her head. The ringing steel collisions ended within a minute, and Tor and Justin blinked at each other across the sudden silence. Tor was the first to scan for his sister and then look up at the wagon to watch the Leshnatti woman slouch against the bars of the cage. Tam’s head and shoulders appeared as she pulled her arm back and drew her sword out of the Leshnatti woman. She glanced over at where Justin was standing as she cleaned the blade with a handful of snow.
“Open the cage and give him the pick,” she ordered Justin, nodding up at one of the prisoners. “He’s a lock maker,” she added.
Justin first grabbed the few items that he knew would complete his kit, then collected enough rations and blankets for the three them to get to the mine – possibly a few days further, if Tor’s estimate of how long it should take could be trusted – and then did as she’d ordered and opened the cage. The lock maker hesitated to take the pick when Justin held it out to him. Tor appeared beside him and took the pick, holding it out to the lock maker.
“Looks like I’m the only one stone headed enough to trust you,” the scout said, the smile on his face impossible to see behind the mask but very easy to hear. The lock maker took the pick and immediately set to work freeing himself. Tor’s mask turned to look up at Justin. “Come on, we need to get moving.”
“Wait, Tam! Take Ree!” the mother in the cart called after them as they started walking in the direction the wagon had been going, Justin going first to begin adjusting his eyes to the dark after spending time near the fires while collecting supplies.
“We’re going through the valley,” Tam called over her shoulder, not turning or slowing. Justin looked back and saw the mother stop trying to convince her young daughter to climb down and instead pull the little girl into a tight hug. He stopped walking and looked at the people in the wagon, all of whom were now turning away from Tor and Tam to start figuring out another route away from the camp.
“They don’t know about the army. We need to keep moving,” Tor said as he walked past, barely loud enough for Justin to hear. Justin turned away from the wagon to watch Tor’s back; the scout’s strides were quick and even. Tam passed him without saying anything. Just where were they leading him that the rest of the prisoners wouldn’t even consider this direction to escape?
There had been forty guards when Tor started following the wagon. Ten were dead on the road, and the trio had circled the camp once already to pick off anyone who wasn’t inside the fire’s light. Some others had run away. Now there were twenty-three guards remaining, and all the prisoners in the wagon.
“The lynch walked the known world! In every place that people resided, he used his dark magic and twisted an animal into a monster to torment and torture the innocent! As they battled the cursed beasts, the lynch stole their riches and crops to feed his never-filled greed and hunger!”
The Leshnatti woman in the wagon who’d been muttering Cautionary Tales from her home country for most of the past month of being locked in the cage was now yelling the stories. Her tone had taken on a pitch leaving no doubt she was so far into her own delusions that she believed the fiction and had stopped understanding the tales were only fanciful creations to support the morals at the ends. Between her yelling about monsters, the already missing guards, and the absolute fear hanging on each surviving member of the guard troop that Tor was gone because scouts were hunting them, Justin assumed the remainder of the fight would be a mop-up. He’d never had a problem with using any advantage, and head-games were an advantage they needed with the eight-to-one odds currently against them.
“One beast walked upright like a man and was burdened by no less than six arms! Porcupine quills covered each arm, and could be thrown as knives, and the head of a hound sat upon its hideous shoulders!”
Justin smirked as he threw two of the knives he’d collected into the tight knot of guards in the middle of the camp. He hit both targets he was aiming for, satisfying his personal scores against the decision makers for first Lark – for being put in chains at his advanced age – and then for Rourke – for dying because of a broken leg that could’ve been easily set and plastered by any doctor. The one who’d ordered Lark put in chains died on his feet, toppling like a felled tree into the churned-up snow. The one who’d ordered Rourke to walk or die tried to pull out the knife. The blade snapped in the hurried motion, leaving half its length embedded, and the guard stared at the hilt and broken blade in his hand as he fell.
“Fengus deserved that,” Justin rasped. The few closest guards heard the muttering and looked in their direction.
Tor hissed out a reprimanding breath at their position being given away. Justin watched him disappear through the trees, Tam in tow, and waited exactly where about a third of the remaining guards were edging closer to. He crouched low to keep under the squinting stares as the guards tried to see into the dark after so much time between the fires, the running timer in the back of his mind telling him they were getting short on keeping their lead ahead of Tor’s friend.
On a whim, he set aside his weapons and scooped up a handful of snow. The woman in the cart was getting close to the part where poisonous spit got hurled out of some bird-monster’s beak at a bunch of villagers. He threw the handful so it was a scattered spray of snow just as she screamed like the bird-monster in the story. Half of the group dropped, wailing as if they’d been hit with hot oil. Justin grabbed his weapons and lunged out of the tree line into the edges of the fire’s light. He kept a stance that was low enough he would look like he was on all fours. The panicked guards barely fought as he swept in among them.
Tor leapt into view from above, dropping off the top of the cage like a hawk into the thickest side of the knot of guards that hadn’t approached the tree line. Tam summersaulted out of the trees into the group that Tor was fighting, slashing out from her knees as her brother’s blades clashed above her head. The ringing steel collisions ended within a minute, and Tor and Justin blinked at each other across the sudden silence. Tor was the first to scan for his sister and then look up at the wagon to watch the Leshnatti woman slouch against the bars of the cage. Tam’s head and shoulders appeared as she pulled her arm back and drew her sword out of the Leshnatti woman. She glanced over at where Justin was standing as she cleaned the blade with a handful of snow.
“Open the cage and give him the pick,” she ordered Justin, nodding up at one of the prisoners. “He’s a lock maker,” she added.
Justin first grabbed the few items that he knew would complete his kit, then collected enough rations and blankets for the three them to get to the mine – possibly a few days further, if Tor’s estimate of how long it should take could be trusted – and then did as she’d ordered and opened the cage. The lock maker hesitated to take the pick when Justin held it out to him. Tor appeared beside him and took the pick, holding it out to the lock maker.
“Looks like I’m the only one stone headed enough to trust you,” the scout said, the smile on his face impossible to see behind the mask but very easy to hear. The lock maker took the pick and immediately set to work freeing himself. Tor’s mask turned to look up at Justin. “Come on, we need to get moving.”
“Wait, Tam! Take Ree!” the mother in the cart called after them as they started walking in the direction the wagon had been going, Justin going first to begin adjusting his eyes to the dark after spending time near the fires while collecting supplies.
“We’re going through the valley,” Tam called over her shoulder, not turning or slowing. Justin looked back and saw the mother stop trying to convince her young daughter to climb down and instead pull the little girl into a tight hug. He stopped walking and looked at the people in the wagon, all of whom were now turning away from Tor and Tam to start figuring out another route away from the camp.
“They don’t know about the army. We need to keep moving,” Tor said as he walked past, barely loud enough for Justin to hear. Justin turned away from the wagon to watch Tor’s back; the scout’s strides were quick and even. Tam passed him without saying anything. Just where were they leading him that the rest of the prisoners wouldn’t even consider this direction to escape?
RUNNING CONVERSATIONS
Tor stopped at the very edge of the fire’s light, Tam pausing to look back a step later when she noticed her brother wasn’t beside her. Justin stood, looking back and watching a few freed prisoners help each other down, then he looked around at the bodies of the guards scattered around the camp before turning to stare again at the man who’d helped him escape. Who was still helping him. Tor only shrugged and invited Justin to follow with a silent gesture. Justin swallowed his reservations and started walking the way he’d just been invited.
They paced at a jog for the rest of the night and well into the next morning, eating lightly as they went rather than stopping. Tor called a halt as midday was nearing, taking a fold-up chime clock from his pocket and setting it to alarm in four hours as Tam rolled into her blanket to sleep. Justin wrapped into his blanket, but forced his eyes to stay open in spite of exhaustion. Tor chuckled as he wrapped up and lay down back-to-back with his sister.
“I still need you to take her safely out of Opat with you,” Tor stated, yawning behind his mask. “You’re safe from me as long as she’s safe.”
Justin still waited for them to fall asleep before he allowed himself to.
When he woke, Tam was melting snow in a metal pot over a pocket flame and Tor was jabbing him in the shoulder with the sheath of his sword. The scout was sitting up and had his mask off, but was still wrapped in his blanket. And he was grinning.
“Tam stole my clock and made us oversleep by a half-hour,” he stated quietly, rolling his eyes as he pulled his arm back to hang his sword on his belt. “She’s a brat,” he added, loud enough that she threw a hard bun at him rather than handing it to him. He winced as if the stale bread had caused injury, catching it easily before it hit the ground, and the two of them bantered through the quick meal.
Justin ate his bun quietly, mostly ignoring the conversation. Tor included him as if he was participating anyway. It was the same every time they stopped for the next three days. Justin tried hard to find Tor irritating, or at least mildly annoying, but was constantly confronted with the engaging personality of the scout being too similar to his younger cousin, Bernard, and found himself listening to the conversation more often than not. He shocked himself almost as much as Tam when he laughed at one of the gearblocked jokes Tor cracked as they were jogging on the third day.
“What was it you were arrested for?” Tor asked directly on the fourth day as they were eating before cleaning up and starting the night’s run.
“I wasn’t,” Justin answered.
“What do you mean?” Tor pressed, making a face at the limp carrot in his hand before starting to eat it.
“I wasn’t arrested,” Justin repeated around a mouthful of stale bun. Both siblings stopped eating to stare at him. “You were right when you said you’d overheard that I’m a sailor. I’m a bosun. I build and fix ships,” he added when they looked confused at the title. “We were ashore to resupply. I needed a new drill because mine broke. I got hit with some kind of dart and woke up tied up in the wagon with three others from my crew.”
“You’re serious?” Tor asked. Justin nodded in reply and pushed the last bite of bread into his mouth. Tam looked down to stare at the bun in her hand and swallowed the bite she’d just taken as if only now noticing how bad it tasted.
“There were only two of you at my village,” Tam stated quietly, still not looking up.
“Renden and Lark had already been killed,” Justin told them. “Renden by the sword in one of our first escapes. Lark was too old for wearing the heavy chains.”
“I’m sorry this happened to you and your friends,” she said, making eye contact and holding it.
Justin looked away to pick up his jacket-made satchel and sling it across his shoulders as he stood. “We should get moving,” he stated.
They joined him quickly. He expected that Tor would remain as uncomfortably quiet as Tam but, just like Bernard would have, he starting chatting again almost immediately as if there’d been no interruption to the usually friendly conversation.
The jog that night was quiet as they all saved their breath for running at the pace Tor set. The widening moon provided extra light and, after midnight, Tor took advantage of the visibility and they parted with the road. It clouded over and started snowing as dawn began to lighten the east, around the same time that Justin realized they were dropping in elevation. They ran for long after midday, hours past when they usually stopped, and got to the place that Tor had been aiming for when they would have been waking up on a typical day. Justin eyed up the little cabin from the edge of the trees, not wanting to get too close.
“It’s a summer resupply shed,” Tor explained in a whisper. “It’ll be empty right now, or occupied with people or animals that aren’t supposed to be in there,” he added, pulling his mask on and straightening out his uniform. “Just wait here,” he ordered them. He jogged over alone and unlocked the door ratchets, pulling the door open and then ducking inside after a quick glance at the interior. “It’s empty,” he called out from the door, pulling his mask off again. The assurance didn't make Justin feel any better about the shed.
Tor stopped at the very edge of the fire’s light, Tam pausing to look back a step later when she noticed her brother wasn’t beside her. Justin stood, looking back and watching a few freed prisoners help each other down, then he looked around at the bodies of the guards scattered around the camp before turning to stare again at the man who’d helped him escape. Who was still helping him. Tor only shrugged and invited Justin to follow with a silent gesture. Justin swallowed his reservations and started walking the way he’d just been invited.
They paced at a jog for the rest of the night and well into the next morning, eating lightly as they went rather than stopping. Tor called a halt as midday was nearing, taking a fold-up chime clock from his pocket and setting it to alarm in four hours as Tam rolled into her blanket to sleep. Justin wrapped into his blanket, but forced his eyes to stay open in spite of exhaustion. Tor chuckled as he wrapped up and lay down back-to-back with his sister.
“I still need you to take her safely out of Opat with you,” Tor stated, yawning behind his mask. “You’re safe from me as long as she’s safe.”
Justin still waited for them to fall asleep before he allowed himself to.
When he woke, Tam was melting snow in a metal pot over a pocket flame and Tor was jabbing him in the shoulder with the sheath of his sword. The scout was sitting up and had his mask off, but was still wrapped in his blanket. And he was grinning.
“Tam stole my clock and made us oversleep by a half-hour,” he stated quietly, rolling his eyes as he pulled his arm back to hang his sword on his belt. “She’s a brat,” he added, loud enough that she threw a hard bun at him rather than handing it to him. He winced as if the stale bread had caused injury, catching it easily before it hit the ground, and the two of them bantered through the quick meal.
Justin ate his bun quietly, mostly ignoring the conversation. Tor included him as if he was participating anyway. It was the same every time they stopped for the next three days. Justin tried hard to find Tor irritating, or at least mildly annoying, but was constantly confronted with the engaging personality of the scout being too similar to his younger cousin, Bernard, and found himself listening to the conversation more often than not. He shocked himself almost as much as Tam when he laughed at one of the gearblocked jokes Tor cracked as they were jogging on the third day.
“What was it you were arrested for?” Tor asked directly on the fourth day as they were eating before cleaning up and starting the night’s run.
“I wasn’t,” Justin answered.
“What do you mean?” Tor pressed, making a face at the limp carrot in his hand before starting to eat it.
“I wasn’t arrested,” Justin repeated around a mouthful of stale bun. Both siblings stopped eating to stare at him. “You were right when you said you’d overheard that I’m a sailor. I’m a bosun. I build and fix ships,” he added when they looked confused at the title. “We were ashore to resupply. I needed a new drill because mine broke. I got hit with some kind of dart and woke up tied up in the wagon with three others from my crew.”
“You’re serious?” Tor asked. Justin nodded in reply and pushed the last bite of bread into his mouth. Tam looked down to stare at the bun in her hand and swallowed the bite she’d just taken as if only now noticing how bad it tasted.
“There were only two of you at my village,” Tam stated quietly, still not looking up.
“Renden and Lark had already been killed,” Justin told them. “Renden by the sword in one of our first escapes. Lark was too old for wearing the heavy chains.”
“I’m sorry this happened to you and your friends,” she said, making eye contact and holding it.
Justin looked away to pick up his jacket-made satchel and sling it across his shoulders as he stood. “We should get moving,” he stated.
They joined him quickly. He expected that Tor would remain as uncomfortably quiet as Tam but, just like Bernard would have, he starting chatting again almost immediately as if there’d been no interruption to the usually friendly conversation.
The jog that night was quiet as they all saved their breath for running at the pace Tor set. The widening moon provided extra light and, after midnight, Tor took advantage of the visibility and they parted with the road. It clouded over and started snowing as dawn began to lighten the east, around the same time that Justin realized they were dropping in elevation. They ran for long after midday, hours past when they usually stopped, and got to the place that Tor had been aiming for when they would have been waking up on a typical day. Justin eyed up the little cabin from the edge of the trees, not wanting to get too close.
“It’s a summer resupply shed,” Tor explained in a whisper. “It’ll be empty right now, or occupied with people or animals that aren’t supposed to be in there,” he added, pulling his mask on and straightening out his uniform. “Just wait here,” he ordered them. He jogged over alone and unlocked the door ratchets, pulling the door open and then ducking inside after a quick glance at the interior. “It’s empty,” he called out from the door, pulling his mask off again. The assurance didn't make Justin feel any better about the shed.
FINDING SHELTER
Tam went first, Justin following warily behind. There were no other footprints in the fresh snow, but he didn’t trust the windowless building. Tor and Tam were the only things inside – it really was just a shed – and Justin hesitated at the threshold. From outside the little building looked solidly built, the gaps in the vertical exterior walls showed only the horizontal interior boards, and the sloped roof fit tightly enough that it was dry inside. Letting his eyes adjust to the dimness, he could see the planks of the interior walls were packed with plaster and sap. He reached around the door frame and settled a palm on each side of the wall, testing the thickness of the planks. Together, including the space between for the framing, the rough plank walls totaled about ten fingersides wide.
“It’s a summer shed the scouts use,” Tor said, setting down the pack he made out of his blanket before each run. “There are panels in each wall that drop inward, same on the outside, so that it’s easier to fill and unpack when needed,” he unhooked one of the seemingly random latches and a large section of one inside wall dropped toward him, leaving only the vertical slats of the outside wall. “We’ll sleep here for the night and get a decent rest.”
“What about your troop?” Justin asked, still in the doorway.
“I’m the only one from these mountains,” Tor said with a shrug. “Jin can keep up on the roads, and will guess this is where we went, but he won’t be able to find it. For him, all the trail markers either are or will be hidden in the snow.”
Justin frowned back at the knee-deep trail that they’d left behind as Tor relatched the wall. He looked at the shed more critically than before. He didn’t like being boxed in, and this building in particular left his skin crawling.
“We kept a pace they can’t because they have to double back and check in with reports to the General,” Tor explained. Justin stared hard at the interior, seeing nothing out of place, and then shook his head to the negative and backed down the few stairs so he was resolutely standing on the ground outside. Tor watched with growing confusion as Tam strode out to stand beside Justin, both men equally shocked at her actions.
“You weren’t with him on the road for getting past your rope traps,” she stated calmly. Tor bent to pick up his bundle with a sigh.
“We’re not going to find anything half as good with this storm moving in,” Tor cautioned as he straightened.
“That’s fine,” Justin replied.
Movement beside the door grabbed Justin’s attention as Tor took his first step. A knothole had shifted. Not a knothole, an eye! Justin drew his sword and lunged forward in one motion. Suddenly two of the vertical planks by the door’s hinges broke along almost invisible cuts and the person wearing them stumbled out onto the small porch. That person was bleeding badly from having Justin’s sword embedded high in his torso, but he was still gurgling to form breath and words. He fell away from the wall into the snow, leaving a hole right through to the interior, a column of horizontal planking affixed to the entire back of him.
There was a metal-on-metal clang behind him as he dropped beside the body to retrieve his sword, and Justin turned to see Tam deflect the attack of someone in white clothing that blended perfectly with the snow they’d been lying in. Tor leapt from the door to defend his sister from the three people springing up to their feet around her as Justin pulled his sword clear of the wood-wearing man and spun to face the two white-clad attackers bursting from the snow nearest to him. Two more came out from the trees and joined the short fight, staining the snow around them as they also fell, their ambush ruined by only having had surprise in their favor instead of skill.
“Are there more of you?” Tor demanded, scanning the tree line.
“Not that will come out while we’re awake,” Justin muttered. “We need to go. I still don’t want to be here,” he added after a glance at the hole in the wall of the shed. He cleaned the blade of his sword with snow and then dried it as best he could on the clothes of one of the bodies before sheathing it. Tam did the same.
“We’re being hunted by scouts because he deserted,” Tam stated loudly toward the forest in general as Tor cleaned his sword. “If you’re thinking of following, our path is the pass through Meek Valley.”
She nodded at Tor and he set off on a direct route around the shed to a narrow trail that had a definite down slope to it. Tam followed, and Justin took up his usual place at the back of their small line as Tor finished tying on his blanket bundle and started to jog again. No one tried to pursue.
The trio stopped a couple of hours later, the sky was darkening and the snow was getting too thick to see through. The place Tor led them to was near a cliff that rose as a black shadow against the grey evening. A few evergreen trees at the base had branches thick enough to provide shelter.
“This is better?” Tam asked Justin after checking under the branches of the largest tree to be sure they weren’t barging in on any animals. Justin nodded, too tired to bother speaking, and they all started pushing snow to form burrow walls under the spread of branches Tam had chosen. He ate the food and drank the water Tor pushed into his hands once they were nestled by the tree trunk.
“How did you know there were bandits at the shed?” Tor asked as they wrapped in their blankets.
“I didn’t,” Justin replied. Tor curled back-to-back with Tam, how they usually slept. “You didn’t set your chime clock,” Justin stated, yawning.
“I don’t need to,” Tor answered, his voice just as tired. “Sleep until you wake up. It’s going to snow for at least a whole day. We’re not going anywhere until the storm stops.”
Tam went first, Justin following warily behind. There were no other footprints in the fresh snow, but he didn’t trust the windowless building. Tor and Tam were the only things inside – it really was just a shed – and Justin hesitated at the threshold. From outside the little building looked solidly built, the gaps in the vertical exterior walls showed only the horizontal interior boards, and the sloped roof fit tightly enough that it was dry inside. Letting his eyes adjust to the dimness, he could see the planks of the interior walls were packed with plaster and sap. He reached around the door frame and settled a palm on each side of the wall, testing the thickness of the planks. Together, including the space between for the framing, the rough plank walls totaled about ten fingersides wide.
“It’s a summer shed the scouts use,” Tor said, setting down the pack he made out of his blanket before each run. “There are panels in each wall that drop inward, same on the outside, so that it’s easier to fill and unpack when needed,” he unhooked one of the seemingly random latches and a large section of one inside wall dropped toward him, leaving only the vertical slats of the outside wall. “We’ll sleep here for the night and get a decent rest.”
“What about your troop?” Justin asked, still in the doorway.
“I’m the only one from these mountains,” Tor said with a shrug. “Jin can keep up on the roads, and will guess this is where we went, but he won’t be able to find it. For him, all the trail markers either are or will be hidden in the snow.”
Justin frowned back at the knee-deep trail that they’d left behind as Tor relatched the wall. He looked at the shed more critically than before. He didn’t like being boxed in, and this building in particular left his skin crawling.
“We kept a pace they can’t because they have to double back and check in with reports to the General,” Tor explained. Justin stared hard at the interior, seeing nothing out of place, and then shook his head to the negative and backed down the few stairs so he was resolutely standing on the ground outside. Tor watched with growing confusion as Tam strode out to stand beside Justin, both men equally shocked at her actions.
“You weren’t with him on the road for getting past your rope traps,” she stated calmly. Tor bent to pick up his bundle with a sigh.
“We’re not going to find anything half as good with this storm moving in,” Tor cautioned as he straightened.
“That’s fine,” Justin replied.
Movement beside the door grabbed Justin’s attention as Tor took his first step. A knothole had shifted. Not a knothole, an eye! Justin drew his sword and lunged forward in one motion. Suddenly two of the vertical planks by the door’s hinges broke along almost invisible cuts and the person wearing them stumbled out onto the small porch. That person was bleeding badly from having Justin’s sword embedded high in his torso, but he was still gurgling to form breath and words. He fell away from the wall into the snow, leaving a hole right through to the interior, a column of horizontal planking affixed to the entire back of him.
There was a metal-on-metal clang behind him as he dropped beside the body to retrieve his sword, and Justin turned to see Tam deflect the attack of someone in white clothing that blended perfectly with the snow they’d been lying in. Tor leapt from the door to defend his sister from the three people springing up to their feet around her as Justin pulled his sword clear of the wood-wearing man and spun to face the two white-clad attackers bursting from the snow nearest to him. Two more came out from the trees and joined the short fight, staining the snow around them as they also fell, their ambush ruined by only having had surprise in their favor instead of skill.
“Are there more of you?” Tor demanded, scanning the tree line.
“Not that will come out while we’re awake,” Justin muttered. “We need to go. I still don’t want to be here,” he added after a glance at the hole in the wall of the shed. He cleaned the blade of his sword with snow and then dried it as best he could on the clothes of one of the bodies before sheathing it. Tam did the same.
“We’re being hunted by scouts because he deserted,” Tam stated loudly toward the forest in general as Tor cleaned his sword. “If you’re thinking of following, our path is the pass through Meek Valley.”
She nodded at Tor and he set off on a direct route around the shed to a narrow trail that had a definite down slope to it. Tam followed, and Justin took up his usual place at the back of their small line as Tor finished tying on his blanket bundle and started to jog again. No one tried to pursue.
The trio stopped a couple of hours later, the sky was darkening and the snow was getting too thick to see through. The place Tor led them to was near a cliff that rose as a black shadow against the grey evening. A few evergreen trees at the base had branches thick enough to provide shelter.
“This is better?” Tam asked Justin after checking under the branches of the largest tree to be sure they weren’t barging in on any animals. Justin nodded, too tired to bother speaking, and they all started pushing snow to form burrow walls under the spread of branches Tam had chosen. He ate the food and drank the water Tor pushed into his hands once they were nestled by the tree trunk.
“How did you know there were bandits at the shed?” Tor asked as they wrapped in their blankets.
“I didn’t,” Justin replied. Tor curled back-to-back with Tam, how they usually slept. “You didn’t set your chime clock,” Justin stated, yawning.
“I don’t need to,” Tor answered, his voice just as tired. “Sleep until you wake up. It’s going to snow for at least a whole day. We’re not going anywhere until the storm stops.”
WOLVES
Justin saw two rabbits were curled against Tor when he woke up. Tam snatched them up and broke their necks with practiced hands the moment she looked over to see if her brother was awake yet. They spent a quiet day under the branches and shared a pitiful stew that afternoon, using up the last of the wilted vegetables without any seasoning. The luxury of a hot meal was worth it.
Their burrow was completely enclosed by snow now, and the heat from the tiny fire warmed the space to the point of being only cool. Tam had initially been worried about the smoke from their fire being spotted, but Tor assured her they were close enough to the mine to look like hunters from there, so it wouldn’t draw attention. And it was still snowing, so the likelihood of anyone seeing smoke through the storm was impossible. They curled back to sleep for another full night once it was dark again, hoping for the snow to stop falling while they slept.
There was laughter. The quiet chuckles merged with good childhood memories that formed soft dreams to wake up from. Justin blinked awake, nearly happy, and looked around the burrow as he tried to orient himself for where he was. Tam was gone and Tor was laughing and… Justin blinked, scrubbed his eyes with his knuckles, and looked again. Tor really was gently wrestling with three young wolves as the she-wolf slept nearby. The cubs were lanky and lean, but their coats were just as shiny and full as their mother’s, and each young wolf likely already weighed the same as Tam.
Justin glanced at the she-wolf as he was sitting up. He froze half-way through the motion when her yellow stare snapped awake in his direction. Tor reached over and scratched her neck roughly. She grumbled happily at the affection but otherwise didn’t move.
“I met Ki in the spring before last,” Tor stated, the she-wolf’s gaze shifting to him as he spoke and freeing Justin to finish sitting up. “She’d been caught in a snare for what looked like a week or so. Her leg was raw and she was starving.” He picked up the leg in question and showed Justin the heavy scar circling above her foot. “Her cubs had been too little and had starved around her. There were a lot of tracks from a man nearby, and a few other wolf tracks that ended in blood. The rest of the loops in the line were empty, so we figured the rock-mind who set the snares was just leaving her to die slowly while using her as a way to lure in the rest of the pack,” he explained. “It was cruel,” he added under his breath.
Justin looked at the healthy wolf laying a few palmsides away and tried to imagine her being as sick and weak as what Tor was describing.
“Jin and I cut her loose and I carried her back to our camp. It took the whole summer for her to get healthy again, and she stayed with us for most of the fall and winter. She had gotten really fat when this Spring started,” he said, grinning at Justin. “Which explained why she only spent most of her time with us. Now she’s a happy mam, with three big sons, and I only see her when our patrols cross this valley.”
The sons in question tumbled across the burrow, deciding they wanted to play harder than Tor would play with them. Justin chuckled at the cubs, impressed at how well they dodged the small fire, earning him another wary stare from Ki.
“Most people think wolves are terrible,” Tor said. “They’re really not. Their packs are families and all the adults puke up meals they’ve eaten to feed cubs who aren’t big enough to hunt yet.”
Ki snarled a bite toward her cubs when they tumbled too close to her and all three contritely stopped playing. Tor laughed at them and scratched Ki’s neck again.
“You’re a good mam, Ki, to be able to keep these boys in check,” he praised her.
The young wolves noticed Justin was watching them and, curiosity filling their yellow stares now that they saw he was awake, each tentatively approached close enough to sniff at him. He held out his empty hands, chuckling when two went behind him and tickled the back of his neck with their noses. Their curiosity satisfied, one returned to play with Tor and the other two piled into a knot on top of the remaining warmth where Justin’s torso had just been lying.
Playful growling and quiet chuckles followed when Justin crawled outside the burrow and relieved his bladder a short distance away. He turned to go back and noticed Tor’s rope tied to one of the trees at the furthest edge of the copse they were camping in. Tam’s steps were barely dimples under the fast-falling snow; the trail left behind aiming away in the same direction that the long end of the rope was stretched before disappearing completely under the new snowfall. He thought about following the rope, worrying about her being alone after the failed ambush at the shed, but hesitating due to how relaxed Tor and the wolves had been. He instead crawled back inside the burrow. If he was going to go after her, he at least needed to be fully armed.
“She didn’t go far enough to get into any trouble. She only took one rope-length,” Tor stated as Justin was reaching for his swords. “We’ll be out of food today, so we have to get moving again in spite of the storm. The mine is about two hours away in this weather, but we can’t walk through the snow because it’s too deep now,” Tor said, still shoving the young wolf around as he was talking. “She knows the right things we need to make snowshoes for walking on top of it.”
“Snowshoes?” Justin asked, completely unfamiliar with the term.
Tor only smiled wider and continued play fighting with the cub. “You’ll see.”
Tam returned not long after and they rationed out the last of the food to eat later – a stale bun and small strip of salted meat each – before she started organizing the things she’d brought back. Three piles of variously sized branches, some fibrous plant leaves, and a few peelings of bark were set up around her when she was done.
“I need the cord the blanket is woven from,” she said, handing one of their blankets to Tor. “Do not cut it,” she added, seeing him first grab his knife. “Undo the weaving.”
“Why not just use the rope?” Justin asked.
“It’s a waste of good rope,” she shrugged. “This cord will work fine for the short time we need it. We can steal better supplies from the mine.”
Justin watched her lay out a few of the branches in an elongated triangle shape and then lash the intersections together. As soon as she started looping the initial length of cord from the blanket tightly over and under the triangle, two of the sides collapsed. She huffed in frustration after half an hour and four attempts.
“You’ll get it figured,” Tor encouraged her.
Justin saw two rabbits were curled against Tor when he woke up. Tam snatched them up and broke their necks with practiced hands the moment she looked over to see if her brother was awake yet. They spent a quiet day under the branches and shared a pitiful stew that afternoon, using up the last of the wilted vegetables without any seasoning. The luxury of a hot meal was worth it.
Their burrow was completely enclosed by snow now, and the heat from the tiny fire warmed the space to the point of being only cool. Tam had initially been worried about the smoke from their fire being spotted, but Tor assured her they were close enough to the mine to look like hunters from there, so it wouldn’t draw attention. And it was still snowing, so the likelihood of anyone seeing smoke through the storm was impossible. They curled back to sleep for another full night once it was dark again, hoping for the snow to stop falling while they slept.
There was laughter. The quiet chuckles merged with good childhood memories that formed soft dreams to wake up from. Justin blinked awake, nearly happy, and looked around the burrow as he tried to orient himself for where he was. Tam was gone and Tor was laughing and… Justin blinked, scrubbed his eyes with his knuckles, and looked again. Tor really was gently wrestling with three young wolves as the she-wolf slept nearby. The cubs were lanky and lean, but their coats were just as shiny and full as their mother’s, and each young wolf likely already weighed the same as Tam.
Justin glanced at the she-wolf as he was sitting up. He froze half-way through the motion when her yellow stare snapped awake in his direction. Tor reached over and scratched her neck roughly. She grumbled happily at the affection but otherwise didn’t move.
“I met Ki in the spring before last,” Tor stated, the she-wolf’s gaze shifting to him as he spoke and freeing Justin to finish sitting up. “She’d been caught in a snare for what looked like a week or so. Her leg was raw and she was starving.” He picked up the leg in question and showed Justin the heavy scar circling above her foot. “Her cubs had been too little and had starved around her. There were a lot of tracks from a man nearby, and a few other wolf tracks that ended in blood. The rest of the loops in the line were empty, so we figured the rock-mind who set the snares was just leaving her to die slowly while using her as a way to lure in the rest of the pack,” he explained. “It was cruel,” he added under his breath.
Justin looked at the healthy wolf laying a few palmsides away and tried to imagine her being as sick and weak as what Tor was describing.
“Jin and I cut her loose and I carried her back to our camp. It took the whole summer for her to get healthy again, and she stayed with us for most of the fall and winter. She had gotten really fat when this Spring started,” he said, grinning at Justin. “Which explained why she only spent most of her time with us. Now she’s a happy mam, with three big sons, and I only see her when our patrols cross this valley.”
The sons in question tumbled across the burrow, deciding they wanted to play harder than Tor would play with them. Justin chuckled at the cubs, impressed at how well they dodged the small fire, earning him another wary stare from Ki.
“Most people think wolves are terrible,” Tor said. “They’re really not. Their packs are families and all the adults puke up meals they’ve eaten to feed cubs who aren’t big enough to hunt yet.”
Ki snarled a bite toward her cubs when they tumbled too close to her and all three contritely stopped playing. Tor laughed at them and scratched Ki’s neck again.
“You’re a good mam, Ki, to be able to keep these boys in check,” he praised her.
The young wolves noticed Justin was watching them and, curiosity filling their yellow stares now that they saw he was awake, each tentatively approached close enough to sniff at him. He held out his empty hands, chuckling when two went behind him and tickled the back of his neck with their noses. Their curiosity satisfied, one returned to play with Tor and the other two piled into a knot on top of the remaining warmth where Justin’s torso had just been lying.
Playful growling and quiet chuckles followed when Justin crawled outside the burrow and relieved his bladder a short distance away. He turned to go back and noticed Tor’s rope tied to one of the trees at the furthest edge of the copse they were camping in. Tam’s steps were barely dimples under the fast-falling snow; the trail left behind aiming away in the same direction that the long end of the rope was stretched before disappearing completely under the new snowfall. He thought about following the rope, worrying about her being alone after the failed ambush at the shed, but hesitating due to how relaxed Tor and the wolves had been. He instead crawled back inside the burrow. If he was going to go after her, he at least needed to be fully armed.
“She didn’t go far enough to get into any trouble. She only took one rope-length,” Tor stated as Justin was reaching for his swords. “We’ll be out of food today, so we have to get moving again in spite of the storm. The mine is about two hours away in this weather, but we can’t walk through the snow because it’s too deep now,” Tor said, still shoving the young wolf around as he was talking. “She knows the right things we need to make snowshoes for walking on top of it.”
“Snowshoes?” Justin asked, completely unfamiliar with the term.
Tor only smiled wider and continued play fighting with the cub. “You’ll see.”
Tam returned not long after and they rationed out the last of the food to eat later – a stale bun and small strip of salted meat each – before she started organizing the things she’d brought back. Three piles of variously sized branches, some fibrous plant leaves, and a few peelings of bark were set up around her when she was done.
“I need the cord the blanket is woven from,” she said, handing one of their blankets to Tor. “Do not cut it,” she added, seeing him first grab his knife. “Undo the weaving.”
“Why not just use the rope?” Justin asked.
“It’s a waste of good rope,” she shrugged. “This cord will work fine for the short time we need it. We can steal better supplies from the mine.”
Justin watched her lay out a few of the branches in an elongated triangle shape and then lash the intersections together. As soon as she started looping the initial length of cord from the blanket tightly over and under the triangle, two of the sides collapsed. She huffed in frustration after half an hour and four attempts.
“You’ll get it figured,” Tor encouraged her.
MAKING STEAM
“What are you trying to do?” Justin asked when her brother’s encouragement left Tam silently fuming.
“Usually we make these in the spring when the branches are green so they’ll bend.” She drew a curve with her finger around the wide end of the triangle. “But with them being frozen… right now they’ll just break if I try.” She huffed a sigh and dropped the triangle so she could stretch her hands.
Justin picked up the dropped branch and peeled back some of the bark. Ice inside proved it was wet enough for bending, if he had a steam box. He untied the branches from their triangle as he thought about the supplies he had. They had water and fire, so he could easily have steam, but no way to evenly contain it. The branches were saturated from the wet winter, and only as thick as his thumb at most, so maybe heating them over steam would work well enough that they wouldn’t dry out and break for what Tam was saying she needed. They were small, so he could probably manipulate them without clamps once they were softened…
“What are you thinking?” Tam interrupted his thoughts. Tor was watching him, too, when Justin looked up from where he’d started peeling the bark off the branch in his hand.
“I can try bending these, if you want?” Justin answered her with a question. “I think it could work if we steam them. If not, at least we’d have tea.”
“Was that a joke?” Tor asked before Tam could reply. “About the tea – did you just make a joke? As in, you actually are capable of humor?”
Justin stared at him, suddenly self-conscious, and Tor beamed a smile back.
“Ouch!” Tor exclaimed, his tone mocking, one of the smallest of the branches Tam had brought into the burrow bouncing off his shoulder after being thrown into the side of his head.
“Get the blanket unravelled,” she ordered her brother. “Don’t you need a box for steaming?” she asked Justin.
“Yeah,” Justin replied, grinning at their ongoing fighting as he turned back to peeling the bark. “We don’t have time to make one. Steaming just the part for the bend might work, though.”
“What about these?” she asked after a glance around the burrow. Justin and Tor both looked to where she was pointing at Justin’s two straight swords nearby. The blades were wide and flat, as were the scabbards. Unfortunately, the branches she’d brought back were all longer than the full lengths of the swords.
“Too short,” he said, dismissing the idea. Even using both her swords to square the box to steam one or two branches at a time, and wrapping it all in a blanket to insulate, it wouldn’t work properly if they couldn’t get an open box at the end opposite the water to allow steam on the full length of the wood.
She reached over and turned one sword to face the opposite direction, then pulled each blade three quarters of the way out of the scabbards. “Would it be long enough now?”
“What are you trying to do?” Justin asked when her brother’s encouragement left Tam silently fuming.
“Usually we make these in the spring when the branches are green so they’ll bend.” She drew a curve with her finger around the wide end of the triangle. “But with them being frozen… right now they’ll just break if I try.” She huffed a sigh and dropped the triangle so she could stretch her hands.
Justin picked up the dropped branch and peeled back some of the bark. Ice inside proved it was wet enough for bending, if he had a steam box. He untied the branches from their triangle as he thought about the supplies he had. They had water and fire, so he could easily have steam, but no way to evenly contain it. The branches were saturated from the wet winter, and only as thick as his thumb at most, so maybe heating them over steam would work well enough that they wouldn’t dry out and break for what Tam was saying she needed. They were small, so he could probably manipulate them without clamps once they were softened…
“What are you thinking?” Tam interrupted his thoughts. Tor was watching him, too, when Justin looked up from where he’d started peeling the bark off the branch in his hand.
“I can try bending these, if you want?” Justin answered her with a question. “I think it could work if we steam them. If not, at least we’d have tea.”
“Was that a joke?” Tor asked before Tam could reply. “About the tea – did you just make a joke? As in, you actually are capable of humor?”
Justin stared at him, suddenly self-conscious, and Tor beamed a smile back.
“Ouch!” Tor exclaimed, his tone mocking, one of the smallest of the branches Tam had brought into the burrow bouncing off his shoulder after being thrown into the side of his head.
“Get the blanket unravelled,” she ordered her brother. “Don’t you need a box for steaming?” she asked Justin.
“Yeah,” Justin replied, grinning at their ongoing fighting as he turned back to peeling the bark. “We don’t have time to make one. Steaming just the part for the bend might work, though.”
“What about these?” she asked after a glance around the burrow. Justin and Tor both looked to where she was pointing at Justin’s two straight swords nearby. The blades were wide and flat, as were the scabbards. Unfortunately, the branches she’d brought back were all longer than the full lengths of the swords.
“Too short,” he said, dismissing the idea. Even using both her swords to square the box to steam one or two branches at a time, and wrapping it all in a blanket to insulate, it wouldn’t work properly if they couldn’t get an open box at the end opposite the water to allow steam on the full length of the wood.
She reached over and turned one sword to face the opposite direction, then pulled each blade three quarters of the way out of the scabbards. “Would it be long enough now?”
***
The wolves left as the steaming started. It took a couple of tries to get the bending pressure application and finished curve right, and Tam had to go back out in the storm for more branches, but they were able to eat their small, final meal as the last branch was cooling. Justin spliced the bent pieces like tiny masts, and Tam bound them in place with the unwoven cord so the branches couldn’t spring back while they were cooling.
After eating, Tor took apart the impromptu steam box, hung the blanket to dry, and then started drying and cleaning the blades and scabbards. Once she finished eating, Tam went back to weaving tightly strung nets into the frames she and Justin had made. When Justin was done his meal, he picked up the icicles that he’d been holding before eating.
“Those burns starting to feel any better?” Tor asked after a few minutes.
“They’re starting to feel numb again,” Justin replied. Rather than focusing on himself and the few small burns on his palms, he turned to watch what Tam was doing. “Why a net?” he finally asked, actually curious.
“If it’s solid, the snow gets on top and weights your steps,” she shrugged, her fingers moving almost too quickly to see the individual motions of the twists and knots. “That makes it just as hard to walk as it would be without the snowshoes, or harder. A net lets the loose snow through but still packs the snow underneath to hold enough weight to keep us on top. Sinews work the best – the snow doesn’t stick as badly as it will to these cords – but these will work for the two hours we’ll need them. They’ll have good snowshoes at the mine.”
As had been the topic of conversation whenever they had time to converse, Tor began listing off the details of the mine’s layout. Half of it was an open pit, and the other half was made up of tunnels bored into the base of a mountain with their entrances on one side of the pit’s bottom. There were guard posts set in a ring around the top of the pit – one at about every ten draughtsides – and a small town for the guards and their families was on the opposite side of the valley from where the trio would be approaching.
The slaves and criminals who worked the mine, when they weren’t laboring, were kept in two long rows of steel cages on the same side the trio was approaching from. The cages were inside the ring of guard posts, one on top of the other, and it was a sheer drop from the rim of the pit to the tops of the first row of cages of at least five idlesides. The drop from the cages and the single road leading to and from them was to the bottom of the pit.
Justin focused on the conversation more than usual as now he needed to have it memorized. Every word – every spoken thought – that Tor could provide, Justin committed to memory.
After eating, Tor took apart the impromptu steam box, hung the blanket to dry, and then started drying and cleaning the blades and scabbards. Once she finished eating, Tam went back to weaving tightly strung nets into the frames she and Justin had made. When Justin was done his meal, he picked up the icicles that he’d been holding before eating.
“Those burns starting to feel any better?” Tor asked after a few minutes.
“They’re starting to feel numb again,” Justin replied. Rather than focusing on himself and the few small burns on his palms, he turned to watch what Tam was doing. “Why a net?” he finally asked, actually curious.
“If it’s solid, the snow gets on top and weights your steps,” she shrugged, her fingers moving almost too quickly to see the individual motions of the twists and knots. “That makes it just as hard to walk as it would be without the snowshoes, or harder. A net lets the loose snow through but still packs the snow underneath to hold enough weight to keep us on top. Sinews work the best – the snow doesn’t stick as badly as it will to these cords – but these will work for the two hours we’ll need them. They’ll have good snowshoes at the mine.”
As had been the topic of conversation whenever they had time to converse, Tor began listing off the details of the mine’s layout. Half of it was an open pit, and the other half was made up of tunnels bored into the base of a mountain with their entrances on one side of the pit’s bottom. There were guard posts set in a ring around the top of the pit – one at about every ten draughtsides – and a small town for the guards and their families was on the opposite side of the valley from where the trio would be approaching.
The slaves and criminals who worked the mine, when they weren’t laboring, were kept in two long rows of steel cages on the same side the trio was approaching from. The cages were inside the ring of guard posts, one on top of the other, and it was a sheer drop from the rim of the pit to the tops of the first row of cages of at least five idlesides. The drop from the cages and the single road leading to and from them was to the bottom of the pit.
Justin focused on the conversation more than usual as now he needed to have it memorized. Every word – every spoken thought – that Tor could provide, Justin committed to memory.
LEARNING TO WALK
Tam finished the first set of snowshoes and handed them to her brother with some of the heavy leaves. He measured Justin’s boots with his hands and then cut the leaves into strips, weaving them into the nets to make outlines that quickly turned into caps which fit snugly over each boot’s toe. He reinforced the caps with cord but didn’t leave any laces, and wove shorter sticks from side to side to better support the weight of a person. Justin did as he was requested and stood as well as he could in the burrow to test the fit of the caps. Tor made a few adjustments to the cords so the caps fit tighter.
“Come outside,” Tor invited, already moving toward the entrance.
“Why?” Justin asked, kicking the snowshoes off so that he could sit down again with new icicles.
“Because you need to learn how to walk all over again,” Tor called over his shoulder with a smirk. Tam nodded without looking up when Justin glanced at her for confirmation. Justin picked up the strange, netted shoes and followed the scout outside.
“You have to keep your legs further apart, and take longer steps,” Tor instructed as Justin came out of the burrow. “Otherwise you’ll step on one shoe with the other and you’ll trip yourself. The back will drag a bit, remember that because it means you can’t step backwards. Sideways is always leading foot first, same reason as why you have to take wider, longer steps forward.”
Justin nodded as he got his boots fitted into the caps. That all made sense.
“Just keep going around the tree until you stop falling every few steps. Try not to break the caps or the nets,” Tor added as Justin stood up. “Once you have going forward figured out, we’ll work on turns and going sideways.”
Justin looked at his feet and readjusted his thinking for what Tor had just said about tripping. Usually he learned things quickly, but this already felt awkward and he hadn’t even taken a step yet. He sighed and looked around at the falling snow, still showing no signs of stopping, and started re-learning how to walk. Tam emerged with another pair of snowshoes for Tor as Justin was learning how to step sideways, and the scout built toe caps and added reinforcement sticks while offering Justin even doses of chiding insults and coaching.
“You keep working on that,” Tor stated, stepping into the caps of his own snowshoes and adjusting the cords to fit snugly. “I need to remember how to do this myself,” he admitted, grinning.
“Why?” Justin asked, surprised.
“Scouts use skis,” Tor said, sighing as he took his first few steps. “I haven’t snowshoed in years.”
“What’s a ‘skis’?” Justin asked. Tor stopped walking to look back.
“You’re so foreign,” Tor said with a laugh. “Skis are long planks the width of your boot that have a curled up front like a sled,” he explained, drawing the shape in the air with his hands. “You wax the bottoms and then just slide over top of the snow with them, rather than walking. It’s faster than snowshoeing,” he added with a shrug. “A sled is like a tiny barge that you can ride over snow with, pulled by people, dogs, or horses. Or you can just ride the sled if you’re going down a hill,” he added with a grin when he saw the next question forming on Justin’s face. “The fronts of skis and sleds curl up so the snow doesn’t come over the top.”
“Like the bow of a ship?” Justin asked, getting only a confused look from Tor in reply. “The front of a ship,” Justin clarified.
“I’ve never seen a ship.” Tor grinned, laughing out loud when Justin stared at him in shock. “I’ve seen barges, and I was on a fishing raft once but I didn’t like it”– he made a face –“everything smelled like week-old fish.”
Justin huffed out a laugh and went back to practicing side-stepping. Tor was almost out of sight around the tree the first time he fell, laughing to himself as he pushed back to his feet to start striding again. They worked at improving for the rest of afternoon, exchanging insults and practicing moving, the activities eventually leading to a snowball fight which quickly elevated to a mock wrestling match that was exponentially harder than it needed to be due to the amount they were both laughing. Once they couldn’t hold off the hunger anymore, they banged the snow off of – and out of – their clothes and hair, still chuckling as they exchanged friendly insults. It was going to be a long, hungry night, so they decided to rest through it rather than staying busy and getting hungrier.
Tam was humming when they came back into the burrow. She lifted a single eyebrow at their matching grins and went back to stirring the little pot on the fire. Justin’s stomach rumbled loudly when the smell inside the burrow hit his nose.
“What is …?” Tor loomed over the pot, frowning sharply when Tam elbowed him back.
“It’s my surprise,” she said, pointing with the spoon at where each of them was meant to sit. “I found some squirrels and their cache this morning while I was looking for branches,” she told them once they were seated.
She poured the mix into each bowl. It was a thin stew of meat, nuts, berries and sweet grasses, but it tasted good and there was enough for everyone to eat until they were momentarily full.
“You’re amazing, Tam,” Tor complimented, leaning back and burping after finishing his last bite.
“Agreed.” Justin was already washing out his dish with a handful of snow so that it could be dried and packed away.
“It wasn’t –”
“Shut your mouth, little sister,” Tor interrupted. “You can depreciate yourself privately in your head. Out here,” he pointed at the burrow in general, “the consensus is that you’re amazing. Now agree with me,” he demanded, grinning. She rolled her eyes and shook her head, about to say something different. He nudged her knee with the toe of his boot. “Agree with me because you know I’m right,” he pressed, his smile widening. “Tell me I’m right.”
Justin chuckled at the two of them, making her blush. Tam heaved a sigh and started washing out the pot.
“I did a good job making a surprise dinner,” she finally conceded.
“That’s not what I said,” Tor argued, nudging her knee with his boot again. She smacked his leg so he nudged her a third time. “Say it,” he drew out the words and she sighed again.
“I’m amazing,” she mumbled at the pot in her hands.
“Yes, you are,” Tor agreed, sitting forward so that he could catch and hold her stare. “Never let anyone force you to believe different,” he stated, his tone and features suddenly serious.
Tam finished the first set of snowshoes and handed them to her brother with some of the heavy leaves. He measured Justin’s boots with his hands and then cut the leaves into strips, weaving them into the nets to make outlines that quickly turned into caps which fit snugly over each boot’s toe. He reinforced the caps with cord but didn’t leave any laces, and wove shorter sticks from side to side to better support the weight of a person. Justin did as he was requested and stood as well as he could in the burrow to test the fit of the caps. Tor made a few adjustments to the cords so the caps fit tighter.
“Come outside,” Tor invited, already moving toward the entrance.
“Why?” Justin asked, kicking the snowshoes off so that he could sit down again with new icicles.
“Because you need to learn how to walk all over again,” Tor called over his shoulder with a smirk. Tam nodded without looking up when Justin glanced at her for confirmation. Justin picked up the strange, netted shoes and followed the scout outside.
“You have to keep your legs further apart, and take longer steps,” Tor instructed as Justin came out of the burrow. “Otherwise you’ll step on one shoe with the other and you’ll trip yourself. The back will drag a bit, remember that because it means you can’t step backwards. Sideways is always leading foot first, same reason as why you have to take wider, longer steps forward.”
Justin nodded as he got his boots fitted into the caps. That all made sense.
“Just keep going around the tree until you stop falling every few steps. Try not to break the caps or the nets,” Tor added as Justin stood up. “Once you have going forward figured out, we’ll work on turns and going sideways.”
Justin looked at his feet and readjusted his thinking for what Tor had just said about tripping. Usually he learned things quickly, but this already felt awkward and he hadn’t even taken a step yet. He sighed and looked around at the falling snow, still showing no signs of stopping, and started re-learning how to walk. Tam emerged with another pair of snowshoes for Tor as Justin was learning how to step sideways, and the scout built toe caps and added reinforcement sticks while offering Justin even doses of chiding insults and coaching.
“You keep working on that,” Tor stated, stepping into the caps of his own snowshoes and adjusting the cords to fit snugly. “I need to remember how to do this myself,” he admitted, grinning.
“Why?” Justin asked, surprised.
“Scouts use skis,” Tor said, sighing as he took his first few steps. “I haven’t snowshoed in years.”
“What’s a ‘skis’?” Justin asked. Tor stopped walking to look back.
“You’re so foreign,” Tor said with a laugh. “Skis are long planks the width of your boot that have a curled up front like a sled,” he explained, drawing the shape in the air with his hands. “You wax the bottoms and then just slide over top of the snow with them, rather than walking. It’s faster than snowshoeing,” he added with a shrug. “A sled is like a tiny barge that you can ride over snow with, pulled by people, dogs, or horses. Or you can just ride the sled if you’re going down a hill,” he added with a grin when he saw the next question forming on Justin’s face. “The fronts of skis and sleds curl up so the snow doesn’t come over the top.”
“Like the bow of a ship?” Justin asked, getting only a confused look from Tor in reply. “The front of a ship,” Justin clarified.
“I’ve never seen a ship.” Tor grinned, laughing out loud when Justin stared at him in shock. “I’ve seen barges, and I was on a fishing raft once but I didn’t like it”– he made a face –“everything smelled like week-old fish.”
Justin huffed out a laugh and went back to practicing side-stepping. Tor was almost out of sight around the tree the first time he fell, laughing to himself as he pushed back to his feet to start striding again. They worked at improving for the rest of afternoon, exchanging insults and practicing moving, the activities eventually leading to a snowball fight which quickly elevated to a mock wrestling match that was exponentially harder than it needed to be due to the amount they were both laughing. Once they couldn’t hold off the hunger anymore, they banged the snow off of – and out of – their clothes and hair, still chuckling as they exchanged friendly insults. It was going to be a long, hungry night, so they decided to rest through it rather than staying busy and getting hungrier.
Tam was humming when they came back into the burrow. She lifted a single eyebrow at their matching grins and went back to stirring the little pot on the fire. Justin’s stomach rumbled loudly when the smell inside the burrow hit his nose.
“What is …?” Tor loomed over the pot, frowning sharply when Tam elbowed him back.
“It’s my surprise,” she said, pointing with the spoon at where each of them was meant to sit. “I found some squirrels and their cache this morning while I was looking for branches,” she told them once they were seated.
She poured the mix into each bowl. It was a thin stew of meat, nuts, berries and sweet grasses, but it tasted good and there was enough for everyone to eat until they were momentarily full.
“You’re amazing, Tam,” Tor complimented, leaning back and burping after finishing his last bite.
“Agreed.” Justin was already washing out his dish with a handful of snow so that it could be dried and packed away.
“It wasn’t –”
“Shut your mouth, little sister,” Tor interrupted. “You can depreciate yourself privately in your head. Out here,” he pointed at the burrow in general, “the consensus is that you’re amazing. Now agree with me,” he demanded, grinning. She rolled her eyes and shook her head, about to say something different. He nudged her knee with the toe of his boot. “Agree with me because you know I’m right,” he pressed, his smile widening. “Tell me I’m right.”
Justin chuckled at the two of them, making her blush. Tam heaved a sigh and started washing out the pot.
“I did a good job making a surprise dinner,” she finally conceded.
“That’s not what I said,” Tor argued, nudging her knee with his boot again. She smacked his leg so he nudged her a third time. “Say it,” he drew out the words and she sighed again.
“I’m amazing,” she mumbled at the pot in her hands.
“Yes, you are,” Tor agreed, sitting forward so that he could catch and hold her stare. “Never let anyone force you to believe different,” he stated, his tone and features suddenly serious.
THE GEM
Tam set the pot aside and hugged her brother. Justin dried his bowl and the pot, stacking them together to ready them for packing. It gave him something else to do rather than staring at the siblings and wondering about what his own brother was doing today. Probably winter exams… the thought Justin was trying to avoid crossed his mind anyway.
James was in his final year of university, so he was probably in the midst of his winter exams prior to the break for Second Moon Nadir. Justin was meant to be on his return home right now to spend a few months overseeing the family business, but from the office rather than from the ship he’d been on. Once James finished his schooling and took over everything local to their home country, Justin would only have to manage the parts requiring travel or government. That was the plan, anyway.
Tor was studying him when Justin shook his brain free of its pondering and took the bowls that Tor and Tam passed him to pack away. Justin could almost hear the silent questions written on the scout’s face, and he wasn’t interested in answering any of them.
“Tell me about ships,” Tor requested instead of any of the other things he wanted to ask.
“I’ve told you plenty of times,” Tam answered before Justin could say anything.
“Yes, but when you tell me all I can picture is a washing tub with a flag on a broom handle in the middle of it,” he said, shaking out his blanket. “I want to hear from someone who knows what they’re talking about.”
Justin laughed as Tam glared at her brother and Tor completely ignored her. They were back to their usual habits and behaviors, the moment of sincerity passed.
“What do you want to know?” Justin replied with a question while Tor wrapped up as if he was going to sleep.
“What they really look like, for a start,” Tor replied quickly. Justin shrugged and answered with a description as he knew ships to be, from his perspective of designing, building, and maintaining them, and feeling that he’d completely failed at it when Tor only looked more confused.
“The ship I normally work on is three draughtsides long at the water line,” Justin started again, reaching for the pile of leftover materials from making the snowshoes. “It has three masts, each a single pole assembled from three trees, and each tree twice the height of this one,” he nodded to the branches overhead. He described the shape of the hull, working quickly with the sticks, cord, and leaves to make a tiny, simplified version of the Gem. He trimmed thin branches to a length that matched the scale of the little hull and built masts, adding spars and sails made from twigs and leaves as he described the colors of the sailcloth. “Eighty-six crew members live on board when we’re out of dock. And four small dogs to kill the rats,” he finished, holding up the toy.
Tor took the little model and stared at it with wonder. “It must be one of the biggest ships in the ocean,” Tor replied.
Justin laughed as he shook his head to the negative. “There are plenty of four- and five-mast ships that have double its displacement,” Justin answered, nodding at the little boat he’d just built. “Their masts tower over this one, and you’d need a ladder to climb from my ship’s highest deck to the other’s lowest. This one, though, is one of the fastest.”
“Does every ship have the same color sails? Are they all blue and white?” Tor lay back with his free hand behind his head, holding up the small ship and turning it side to side.
“No,” Tam answered, a small smile lifting one corner of her lips.
“They’re every color you can think of,” Justin elaborated. “Usually the color or colors mark what the ship is for. Most are just white, marking them as independent merchants. Companies with more than one ship often either have their own colors or a company crest. Each country’s navy has its own color, which is usually illegal to be used by anyone else in their part of the wet.”
“How big is the ocean?” Tor asked quietly.
“There are nine in the known world, each distinct because of the currents,” Justin said. “But for planning direct routes between main ports, expecting good weather, it’s generally four weeks from Opat to Tenet Mik, three weeks from Tenet Mik to Korball, two weeks from Korball to Leshnat, and two and a half weeks from Leshnat to Opat. The Islands are almost perfectly in the center of all of them.”
“Is it true that there are places where you can’t see land at all?” Tam asked.
“From the middles of most of the oceans, yes. And if you sail straight north from the Islands, you can voyage for five weeks and see nothing but water and sky before the ship will scuttle on the reefs.”
“Is there anything after the reefs?” Tor asked.
Justin buried his own experiences on the secreted tenth ocean deeply in his memories, hiding any unconscious body language behind a shrug. “Nobody knows,” he answered instead. “The reefs stretch as far as can be seen from the crow’s nest and are unbroken from Opat’s shore to Tenet Mik’s.”
“A mystery.” Tor smiled at the toy ship. He set it aside carefully before taking out and setting up his little chime clock, then pulled Tam into the blanket they now had to share. “We’ll get up before dawn. That’ll give us early light to get to the mine, and a full day to make sure we’re well past it before we need to camp again.”
Tam set the pot aside and hugged her brother. Justin dried his bowl and the pot, stacking them together to ready them for packing. It gave him something else to do rather than staring at the siblings and wondering about what his own brother was doing today. Probably winter exams… the thought Justin was trying to avoid crossed his mind anyway.
James was in his final year of university, so he was probably in the midst of his winter exams prior to the break for Second Moon Nadir. Justin was meant to be on his return home right now to spend a few months overseeing the family business, but from the office rather than from the ship he’d been on. Once James finished his schooling and took over everything local to their home country, Justin would only have to manage the parts requiring travel or government. That was the plan, anyway.
Tor was studying him when Justin shook his brain free of its pondering and took the bowls that Tor and Tam passed him to pack away. Justin could almost hear the silent questions written on the scout’s face, and he wasn’t interested in answering any of them.
“Tell me about ships,” Tor requested instead of any of the other things he wanted to ask.
“I’ve told you plenty of times,” Tam answered before Justin could say anything.
“Yes, but when you tell me all I can picture is a washing tub with a flag on a broom handle in the middle of it,” he said, shaking out his blanket. “I want to hear from someone who knows what they’re talking about.”
Justin laughed as Tam glared at her brother and Tor completely ignored her. They were back to their usual habits and behaviors, the moment of sincerity passed.
“What do you want to know?” Justin replied with a question while Tor wrapped up as if he was going to sleep.
“What they really look like, for a start,” Tor replied quickly. Justin shrugged and answered with a description as he knew ships to be, from his perspective of designing, building, and maintaining them, and feeling that he’d completely failed at it when Tor only looked more confused.
“The ship I normally work on is three draughtsides long at the water line,” Justin started again, reaching for the pile of leftover materials from making the snowshoes. “It has three masts, each a single pole assembled from three trees, and each tree twice the height of this one,” he nodded to the branches overhead. He described the shape of the hull, working quickly with the sticks, cord, and leaves to make a tiny, simplified version of the Gem. He trimmed thin branches to a length that matched the scale of the little hull and built masts, adding spars and sails made from twigs and leaves as he described the colors of the sailcloth. “Eighty-six crew members live on board when we’re out of dock. And four small dogs to kill the rats,” he finished, holding up the toy.
Tor took the little model and stared at it with wonder. “It must be one of the biggest ships in the ocean,” Tor replied.
Justin laughed as he shook his head to the negative. “There are plenty of four- and five-mast ships that have double its displacement,” Justin answered, nodding at the little boat he’d just built. “Their masts tower over this one, and you’d need a ladder to climb from my ship’s highest deck to the other’s lowest. This one, though, is one of the fastest.”
“Does every ship have the same color sails? Are they all blue and white?” Tor lay back with his free hand behind his head, holding up the small ship and turning it side to side.
“No,” Tam answered, a small smile lifting one corner of her lips.
“They’re every color you can think of,” Justin elaborated. “Usually the color or colors mark what the ship is for. Most are just white, marking them as independent merchants. Companies with more than one ship often either have their own colors or a company crest. Each country’s navy has its own color, which is usually illegal to be used by anyone else in their part of the wet.”
“How big is the ocean?” Tor asked quietly.
“There are nine in the known world, each distinct because of the currents,” Justin said. “But for planning direct routes between main ports, expecting good weather, it’s generally four weeks from Opat to Tenet Mik, three weeks from Tenet Mik to Korball, two weeks from Korball to Leshnat, and two and a half weeks from Leshnat to Opat. The Islands are almost perfectly in the center of all of them.”
“Is it true that there are places where you can’t see land at all?” Tam asked.
“From the middles of most of the oceans, yes. And if you sail straight north from the Islands, you can voyage for five weeks and see nothing but water and sky before the ship will scuttle on the reefs.”
“Is there anything after the reefs?” Tor asked.
Justin buried his own experiences on the secreted tenth ocean deeply in his memories, hiding any unconscious body language behind a shrug. “Nobody knows,” he answered instead. “The reefs stretch as far as can be seen from the crow’s nest and are unbroken from Opat’s shore to Tenet Mik’s.”
“A mystery.” Tor smiled at the toy ship. He set it aside carefully before taking out and setting up his little chime clock, then pulled Tam into the blanket they now had to share. “We’ll get up before dawn. That’ll give us early light to get to the mine, and a full day to make sure we’re well past it before we need to camp again.”
MEEK RIVER
They set off in the dark, tied together by Tor’s rope so neither of the other two would get lost in the snow. When the black before sunrise gave way to the grey after, they were walking along the tree line beside an open expanse that could only be the winding route of a river. Tor had said there was a river feeding the workings at the mine, which was directed through a single canal around the pit to continue unharnessed on the other side. It ran past the guards’ town and then down the mountain. He had failed to mention that the river was this wide. Justin eyed the jagged blue peaks marking the top of the water, which spoke to him of the fast current beneath shoving up ice into piles on the surface.
The snow was still falling, but had lessened considerably. He could see further than a draughtside in the shadowy morning light as Tor brought the group to a halt and they untied from each other.
“We’re making better time than I’d expected,” he said, keeping his voice quiet as he started wrapping the rope into a coil. “The road into the mine is on this side of the river. The way out is on that side,” he pointed with his chin to the opposite bank. “I’d figured that we’d have to fight our way over the bridge, but if we cross now everything gets exceptionally easier. We might not have to fight at all.”
Justin frowned at the river. He could see the other bank approximately four draughtsides away, and could pick what appeared as a fairly safe pass to get there, but he didn’t like walking on ice on a good day… and this ice could be loose.
“The bridge is just there, around that bend,” Tor pointed in the direction they’d been walking. “It always has guards at both ends. This is the last place we can cross without being seen, and the last place the river’s fully frozen over. Around the bend they break the ice.”
“Drinking water?” Justin asked, keeping his voice at the same volume as Tor’s.
“Natural prison wall,” Tam replied. “The water is so cold that it even thinly ices in the summer. It forces people to use their bridge.”
“What about the perimeter patrols?” Justin reminded Tor. The last thing they needed was one of the guard patrols passing by as they were out in the middle of the river.
“We’re already inside,” Tor said with a quick grin. “We have ten minutes until the next pass. They’ll wave at each other across the river just back there,” he pointed with his thumb in the direction they’d come from.
“They’ll see our tracks,” Tam frowned.
“But they won’t follow us,” Tor pointed across the jagged ice. “They won’t cross the water. Too much superstition.”
“About what?” Justin asked.
“Everyone who died in the water,” Tor said, grinning wider. He finished wrapping the rope and looped the ends to secure the coil from unravelling or knotting. “Some of us scouts may have played a few tricks over the years to strengthen those superstitions, as well. It made sure we didn’t have to worry about being followed whenever we crossed it ourselves.”
Justin chuckled, the thoughts flicking into his mind of how creative his own crew could get when they were bored. Suddenly anger and fear touched into his mind, the strength of it dimmed by distance, but the power of it drowning any further conversation for a moment. Tor and Tam both stared, eyes wide, toward the distant horizon in the direction of the ocean that neither could see.
Justin didn’t even bother turning around. The distance was much too far for him to try returning anything structured, so he just pushed back with safe reassurance followed up with wary determination. Justin’s mother replied with love, her emotions amplified by sharing the contact with her friend and trainer, Madam Isabelle. His mother’s anger ramped up considerably after he gave a feeling of imprisonment and of being alone, and he could feel Madam Isabelle’s touch turn calculating at the realization that Rourke wasn’t there... but she could sense someone else was.
Her feelings confirmed both of Justin’s worries; his friend had shielded his death to stop Justin from waking up to stop him, and as a by-product had successfully stopped any of The Ladies from knowing as well, and that Tam and Tor were talented but untrained. The siblings he was with turned their stares on him once his mother cut the communication, even her and Madam Isabelle’s combined efforts over this distance were too much of an effort to continue. Tor and Tam’s stares verified Madam Isabelle’s findings about them.
“What was that?” Tam demanded, her words reinforced as tumbling thoughts in Justin's mind – and apparently in Tor’s – which she didn’t know how to break away from sharing now that she’d accidentally been included in a contact. These two being untrained made it more important for him to get them out of Opat. It had been years since anyone talented had been found in this country.
“That was my mother,” Justin replied.
He quickly estimated how far he was from the coast, did a subtraction of the distance he knew his mother could communicate at that clarity when she had Madam Isabelle’s help, and realized she was already on the wet. He didn’t envy his uncle for having to participate in the conversation that had brought her off the estate.
“We need to get moving before the next patrol comes,” he added, bringing Tor and Tam’s attention back to the immediate situation. Tam shook her head, disconnecting the contact instinctively, while Tor brushed off his sleeves as if the lingering emotions were a physical thing.
Tor turned and studied the piled-up ice as he tucked the rope away. “We could be safe crossing there,” he said, pointing out a line of ice peaks near where Justin had been looking.
“I wanted to avoid that pile,” Justin said as he pointed at one of the jagged heaps on the path that Tor planned on using. “There are breaks in the snow already. The ice might have shifted apart. I was thinking that way.” Justin pointed out the route he’d seen, where the snow was piled from being pushed rather than broken from being pulled apart.
Both ways were a risk. On Tor’s, the breaks could mean dangerous gaps in the ice, or safe settling of ice sheets into solid positions. On Justin’s, the snow piles could be hiding gaps or the sheets could have been recently shoved up and still be off balance. Both had the threat of loose ice that would tip and drop whoever was stepping on the sheet into the cold river below, and the whole river was a groaning mass of rushing water that did not provide any level of comfort about any part of the ice being safe to cross.
“What about that way?” Tam pointed at a flat expanse of unbroken snow spanning from bank to bank.
“No,” Tor and Justin replied at the same time.
“If you can’t see the ice, you don’t know if there’s any there,” Tor explained. “The snow may have just piled up on the water and formed a shell after floes broke away. Come on. I’ll go first.”
“What if you fall in?” Tam asked, alarmed.
“Don’t follow the same path I took,” he said, grinning at his sister
Tam shook her head and chuckled ruefully at her brother’s rock headed joke. Tor shifted his gaze to stare at Justin.
“Whatever happens to me,” Tor started, “I want your word that you’ll get her out of Opat and keep her safe,” he finished, his tone heavy and quiet.
“I will,” Justin promised. Tor nodded and turned back to his sister.
“The ice can’t flip you under if you’re already on the next piece. You need to run. Whatever happens, just keep moving,” Tor instructed.
He didn’t wait for her reply before he turned and sprinted out onto the river.
“Don’t step on anything that moves after Tor stepped on it,” Justin advised her. Tam gulped a mouthful of air and swallowed the surge of fear threatening to choke her. She followed her brother at the same leaping run that he’d set.
They set off in the dark, tied together by Tor’s rope so neither of the other two would get lost in the snow. When the black before sunrise gave way to the grey after, they were walking along the tree line beside an open expanse that could only be the winding route of a river. Tor had said there was a river feeding the workings at the mine, which was directed through a single canal around the pit to continue unharnessed on the other side. It ran past the guards’ town and then down the mountain. He had failed to mention that the river was this wide. Justin eyed the jagged blue peaks marking the top of the water, which spoke to him of the fast current beneath shoving up ice into piles on the surface.
The snow was still falling, but had lessened considerably. He could see further than a draughtside in the shadowy morning light as Tor brought the group to a halt and they untied from each other.
“We’re making better time than I’d expected,” he said, keeping his voice quiet as he started wrapping the rope into a coil. “The road into the mine is on this side of the river. The way out is on that side,” he pointed with his chin to the opposite bank. “I’d figured that we’d have to fight our way over the bridge, but if we cross now everything gets exceptionally easier. We might not have to fight at all.”
Justin frowned at the river. He could see the other bank approximately four draughtsides away, and could pick what appeared as a fairly safe pass to get there, but he didn’t like walking on ice on a good day… and this ice could be loose.
“The bridge is just there, around that bend,” Tor pointed in the direction they’d been walking. “It always has guards at both ends. This is the last place we can cross without being seen, and the last place the river’s fully frozen over. Around the bend they break the ice.”
“Drinking water?” Justin asked, keeping his voice at the same volume as Tor’s.
“Natural prison wall,” Tam replied. “The water is so cold that it even thinly ices in the summer. It forces people to use their bridge.”
“What about the perimeter patrols?” Justin reminded Tor. The last thing they needed was one of the guard patrols passing by as they were out in the middle of the river.
“We’re already inside,” Tor said with a quick grin. “We have ten minutes until the next pass. They’ll wave at each other across the river just back there,” he pointed with his thumb in the direction they’d come from.
“They’ll see our tracks,” Tam frowned.
“But they won’t follow us,” Tor pointed across the jagged ice. “They won’t cross the water. Too much superstition.”
“About what?” Justin asked.
“Everyone who died in the water,” Tor said, grinning wider. He finished wrapping the rope and looped the ends to secure the coil from unravelling or knotting. “Some of us scouts may have played a few tricks over the years to strengthen those superstitions, as well. It made sure we didn’t have to worry about being followed whenever we crossed it ourselves.”
Justin chuckled, the thoughts flicking into his mind of how creative his own crew could get when they were bored. Suddenly anger and fear touched into his mind, the strength of it dimmed by distance, but the power of it drowning any further conversation for a moment. Tor and Tam both stared, eyes wide, toward the distant horizon in the direction of the ocean that neither could see.
Justin didn’t even bother turning around. The distance was much too far for him to try returning anything structured, so he just pushed back with safe reassurance followed up with wary determination. Justin’s mother replied with love, her emotions amplified by sharing the contact with her friend and trainer, Madam Isabelle. His mother’s anger ramped up considerably after he gave a feeling of imprisonment and of being alone, and he could feel Madam Isabelle’s touch turn calculating at the realization that Rourke wasn’t there... but she could sense someone else was.
Her feelings confirmed both of Justin’s worries; his friend had shielded his death to stop Justin from waking up to stop him, and as a by-product had successfully stopped any of The Ladies from knowing as well, and that Tam and Tor were talented but untrained. The siblings he was with turned their stares on him once his mother cut the communication, even her and Madam Isabelle’s combined efforts over this distance were too much of an effort to continue. Tor and Tam’s stares verified Madam Isabelle’s findings about them.
“What was that?” Tam demanded, her words reinforced as tumbling thoughts in Justin's mind – and apparently in Tor’s – which she didn’t know how to break away from sharing now that she’d accidentally been included in a contact. These two being untrained made it more important for him to get them out of Opat. It had been years since anyone talented had been found in this country.
“That was my mother,” Justin replied.
He quickly estimated how far he was from the coast, did a subtraction of the distance he knew his mother could communicate at that clarity when she had Madam Isabelle’s help, and realized she was already on the wet. He didn’t envy his uncle for having to participate in the conversation that had brought her off the estate.
“We need to get moving before the next patrol comes,” he added, bringing Tor and Tam’s attention back to the immediate situation. Tam shook her head, disconnecting the contact instinctively, while Tor brushed off his sleeves as if the lingering emotions were a physical thing.
Tor turned and studied the piled-up ice as he tucked the rope away. “We could be safe crossing there,” he said, pointing out a line of ice peaks near where Justin had been looking.
“I wanted to avoid that pile,” Justin said as he pointed at one of the jagged heaps on the path that Tor planned on using. “There are breaks in the snow already. The ice might have shifted apart. I was thinking that way.” Justin pointed out the route he’d seen, where the snow was piled from being pushed rather than broken from being pulled apart.
Both ways were a risk. On Tor’s, the breaks could mean dangerous gaps in the ice, or safe settling of ice sheets into solid positions. On Justin’s, the snow piles could be hiding gaps or the sheets could have been recently shoved up and still be off balance. Both had the threat of loose ice that would tip and drop whoever was stepping on the sheet into the cold river below, and the whole river was a groaning mass of rushing water that did not provide any level of comfort about any part of the ice being safe to cross.
“What about that way?” Tam pointed at a flat expanse of unbroken snow spanning from bank to bank.
“No,” Tor and Justin replied at the same time.
“If you can’t see the ice, you don’t know if there’s any there,” Tor explained. “The snow may have just piled up on the water and formed a shell after floes broke away. Come on. I’ll go first.”
“What if you fall in?” Tam asked, alarmed.
“Don’t follow the same path I took,” he said, grinning at his sister
Tam shook her head and chuckled ruefully at her brother’s rock headed joke. Tor shifted his gaze to stare at Justin.
“Whatever happens to me,” Tor started, “I want your word that you’ll get her out of Opat and keep her safe,” he finished, his tone heavy and quiet.
“I will,” Justin promised. Tor nodded and turned back to his sister.
“The ice can’t flip you under if you’re already on the next piece. You need to run. Whatever happens, just keep moving,” Tor instructed.
He didn’t wait for her reply before he turned and sprinted out onto the river.
“Don’t step on anything that moves after Tor stepped on it,” Justin advised her. Tam gulped a mouthful of air and swallowed the surge of fear threatening to choke her. She followed her brother at the same leaping run that he’d set.
ICE
Justin started the preliminary breathing exercises he did before any dive. Better to be prepared, he figured. There was nothing he could do about how cold the water was, but he could at least not drown if he was dunked under the ice. Tor said it was open water around the bend, and Justin could hold his breath that distance as long as he wasn’t frozen to death. He picked his first few steps and then narrowed his focus down to just this moment, ignoring the thinking part of his mind so that he could react faster, and set off after Tor and Tam.
A nearby crack interrupted the groaning river and reverberated through the flows as Tor, Tam and Justin leapt from one jagged edge to the next, using the snowshoes to bridge across the roughness of the ice sheets. Justin felt the change as a vibration before he looked up from his next steps to see where the cause of it was. The ice creaked and grated on all sides as it underwent a massive shift just ahead of him. Tor looked back, meeting Justin’s stare as Tam dropped from between them.
Panic flared in Tor’s eyes that all the ice around where Tam had been was now in motion. The place where she’d dropped erupted into a flurry of loose snow and then her arms clawed up and they could see her head.
Tor’s brain engaged his training reflexes before it remembered about his snowshoes and he sprawled into a fall as he tripped himself trying to turn too quickly. Tam slipped down and then caught herself on the edge of an adjoining sheet, pulling herself up so she was only half submerged, her arms stretched to full extension forward as she scratched for any handhold to pull herself completely free of the freezing river.
Justin stopped looking for safe footing and kicked out of his snowshoes into a run. The ice sheets behind the gap she’d fallen through were slamming up and twisting into a new configuration. A sheet twice as thick as Justin’s arm and as tall as he was above the water surged up, gravity fighting against the river to pull it down. Swinging slowly into the opposite direction than it had been pushed up, and pressed by the current and more ice from behind so that the circular motion was delayed, the heavy ice was scissoring closed on the gap Tam was in the middle of.
Justin breathed deeply, his lungs aching from the sudden cold, and leapt to the sheet of ice she was clinging to as he yanked his pack and coat off over his head. The sheet she was holding bobbed under his added weight and then tipped, dipping Tam further down. Justin threw his supplies toward Tor as he skidded into the gap, grabbing Tam and dragging her into the water as he slid off the ice.
The water was horrifically cold after the sudden dive, but much clearer than he’d expected. The cracking boom of the gap slamming closed above them was followed by screeches and groans of the ice adjusting while the current started to carry them away. He spun to face down and kicked deeper to get away from the floes. Even with only the dim sunlight penetrating the thick ice, he could see the jagged bottoms of the sheets. Everything was lit blue. He tore off the pack and coat that Tam was wearing so it wouldn’t weigh her down as she struggled. Justin clutched Tam to his chest, pinning her so she couldn’t hurt him as she fought the water, and swam with the current while looking up for a thin spot.
He kicked up to a shadowy gap in the overhead surface and grabbed onto the ice, wedging his elbow into a crevice when his fingers didn’t work to hold on. Tam coughed and gagged in the small space. There was no way of breaking through here to get above the ice, but at least there was air for the moment.
“Hold your breath,” Justin said, stuttering around his chattering teeth, forcing his body to breathe deeply again. Tam whimpered, but gasped as best she could. Justin felt her chest lock into an expanded position and gulped a final mouthful of air before diving back under. They needed to get out of the water or they were going to freeze before they had a chance to drown.
Brighter light caught his eye and he looked forward as he swam: three bridge abutments rose up from the shadows below and disappeared above the waterline. Justin kicked hard for the one he could angle to the easiest. He could see the shadow of a catwalk jutting far out in advance of reaching the abutment. That must be where they stand to break the ice …. He clawed up to the surface and hooked his free arm into the low railing. Movement and shouting assailed his senses as he pulled Tam so she had her head above the water.
“Help,” he gasped. “Our guide… everything fell through the ice …”
Rough hands hauled them out of the river, hard voices demanding to know who they were. Justin kept repeating the lie about having a guide and that they’d all broken through the ice, repeatedly thanking the guards for saving their lives. Soon they were bundled into blankets and taken up to the nearest perimeter cabin. With no way of verifying the story because Tam whimpered wordlessly and Justin didn’t change any details no matter what questions were asked, they were reluctantly given dry clothes and warm tea and left to sit near the stove.
Once they’d changed, Justin pulled Tam into his arms and dried more water out of her hair with one of the towels they’d been given. She was shivering harder than he was, and he needed to maintain the assumption the guards had made that they were a couple. She curled against him, soaking up the extra heat he provided, so he shifted how they were sitting to keep her closer to the stove.
He picked up his cup of tea once his hand was still enough not to spill all of it and took a tentative sip. It was barely more than hot water, and was barely hot, but it was a lot warmer than he was. He took another sip, the heat warming his insides as pleasantly as the stove was warming his skin. He pressed the rim of the cup to Tam’s lips and tilted it for her to sip as well. She took small drinks as he gave them to her, finishing the tea, and was shivering rather than shaking when he set the empty cup down.
Justin heaped gratitude on anyone who spoke to them, loudly praising the guards who had pulled them out of the river as saviors when the commander came in to question them after lunch. Justin inwardly cringed when the commander started agreeing with him about how good and kind the guards were, but outwardly commended the man, stating the troops must have learned such grace by example when the twit gave them coats, good snowshoes, and packs of rations to serve them until the next town a week away. Tam assured everyone who asked that she had family there who would help them, and that the next town had been their destination before their unfortunate run-in with the river. She even sweetly blamed Justin’s ‘adventurous spirit’ for their situation, stating it had been his idea to travel off-road because he fancied himself a bit of an outdoorsman – something she acted as abhorring and adoring in even measures without having to actually say the words.
Justin started the preliminary breathing exercises he did before any dive. Better to be prepared, he figured. There was nothing he could do about how cold the water was, but he could at least not drown if he was dunked under the ice. Tor said it was open water around the bend, and Justin could hold his breath that distance as long as he wasn’t frozen to death. He picked his first few steps and then narrowed his focus down to just this moment, ignoring the thinking part of his mind so that he could react faster, and set off after Tor and Tam.
A nearby crack interrupted the groaning river and reverberated through the flows as Tor, Tam and Justin leapt from one jagged edge to the next, using the snowshoes to bridge across the roughness of the ice sheets. Justin felt the change as a vibration before he looked up from his next steps to see where the cause of it was. The ice creaked and grated on all sides as it underwent a massive shift just ahead of him. Tor looked back, meeting Justin’s stare as Tam dropped from between them.
Panic flared in Tor’s eyes that all the ice around where Tam had been was now in motion. The place where she’d dropped erupted into a flurry of loose snow and then her arms clawed up and they could see her head.
Tor’s brain engaged his training reflexes before it remembered about his snowshoes and he sprawled into a fall as he tripped himself trying to turn too quickly. Tam slipped down and then caught herself on the edge of an adjoining sheet, pulling herself up so she was only half submerged, her arms stretched to full extension forward as she scratched for any handhold to pull herself completely free of the freezing river.
Justin stopped looking for safe footing and kicked out of his snowshoes into a run. The ice sheets behind the gap she’d fallen through were slamming up and twisting into a new configuration. A sheet twice as thick as Justin’s arm and as tall as he was above the water surged up, gravity fighting against the river to pull it down. Swinging slowly into the opposite direction than it had been pushed up, and pressed by the current and more ice from behind so that the circular motion was delayed, the heavy ice was scissoring closed on the gap Tam was in the middle of.
Justin breathed deeply, his lungs aching from the sudden cold, and leapt to the sheet of ice she was clinging to as he yanked his pack and coat off over his head. The sheet she was holding bobbed under his added weight and then tipped, dipping Tam further down. Justin threw his supplies toward Tor as he skidded into the gap, grabbing Tam and dragging her into the water as he slid off the ice.
The water was horrifically cold after the sudden dive, but much clearer than he’d expected. The cracking boom of the gap slamming closed above them was followed by screeches and groans of the ice adjusting while the current started to carry them away. He spun to face down and kicked deeper to get away from the floes. Even with only the dim sunlight penetrating the thick ice, he could see the jagged bottoms of the sheets. Everything was lit blue. He tore off the pack and coat that Tam was wearing so it wouldn’t weigh her down as she struggled. Justin clutched Tam to his chest, pinning her so she couldn’t hurt him as she fought the water, and swam with the current while looking up for a thin spot.
He kicked up to a shadowy gap in the overhead surface and grabbed onto the ice, wedging his elbow into a crevice when his fingers didn’t work to hold on. Tam coughed and gagged in the small space. There was no way of breaking through here to get above the ice, but at least there was air for the moment.
“Hold your breath,” Justin said, stuttering around his chattering teeth, forcing his body to breathe deeply again. Tam whimpered, but gasped as best she could. Justin felt her chest lock into an expanded position and gulped a final mouthful of air before diving back under. They needed to get out of the water or they were going to freeze before they had a chance to drown.
Brighter light caught his eye and he looked forward as he swam: three bridge abutments rose up from the shadows below and disappeared above the waterline. Justin kicked hard for the one he could angle to the easiest. He could see the shadow of a catwalk jutting far out in advance of reaching the abutment. That must be where they stand to break the ice …. He clawed up to the surface and hooked his free arm into the low railing. Movement and shouting assailed his senses as he pulled Tam so she had her head above the water.
“Help,” he gasped. “Our guide… everything fell through the ice …”
Rough hands hauled them out of the river, hard voices demanding to know who they were. Justin kept repeating the lie about having a guide and that they’d all broken through the ice, repeatedly thanking the guards for saving their lives. Soon they were bundled into blankets and taken up to the nearest perimeter cabin. With no way of verifying the story because Tam whimpered wordlessly and Justin didn’t change any details no matter what questions were asked, they were reluctantly given dry clothes and warm tea and left to sit near the stove.
Once they’d changed, Justin pulled Tam into his arms and dried more water out of her hair with one of the towels they’d been given. She was shivering harder than he was, and he needed to maintain the assumption the guards had made that they were a couple. She curled against him, soaking up the extra heat he provided, so he shifted how they were sitting to keep her closer to the stove.
He picked up his cup of tea once his hand was still enough not to spill all of it and took a tentative sip. It was barely more than hot water, and was barely hot, but it was a lot warmer than he was. He took another sip, the heat warming his insides as pleasantly as the stove was warming his skin. He pressed the rim of the cup to Tam’s lips and tilted it for her to sip as well. She took small drinks as he gave them to her, finishing the tea, and was shivering rather than shaking when he set the empty cup down.
Justin heaped gratitude on anyone who spoke to them, loudly praising the guards who had pulled them out of the river as saviors when the commander came in to question them after lunch. Justin inwardly cringed when the commander started agreeing with him about how good and kind the guards were, but outwardly commended the man, stating the troops must have learned such grace by example when the twit gave them coats, good snowshoes, and packs of rations to serve them until the next town a week away. Tam assured everyone who asked that she had family there who would help them, and that the next town had been their destination before their unfortunate run-in with the river. She even sweetly blamed Justin’s ‘adventurous spirit’ for their situation, stating it had been his idea to travel off-road because he fancied himself a bit of an outdoorsman – something she acted as abhorring and adoring in even measures without having to actually say the words.
RUNNING LATE
The commander chuckled at the newlywed scenario Justin and Tam presented to him. He insisted they keep the supplies and clothing as gifts while Justin argued over the needed amount of chips he wanted to return payment of once they’d reached Tam’s imaginary family. Almost as an afterthought, and with Justin and Tam both animatedly refusing, the commander pushed a sword and knife each into their hands, cautioning them against bandits in the area.
“This is too much, on top of everything you’ve already given us,” Justin said, trying to hand the weapons back.
“I wouldn’t sleep well knowing that I’d sent you out unable to protect yourselves,” the commander said, preening at his own graciousness. Justin smiled at the new weapons and the commander as if unable to believe his good fortune, while privately hoping the Fengus twit knew the difference between the good steel and the decoys.
“These weapons, you have to allow me to send payment for them,” Justin argued further, holding up the ruse as he clipped the knife to his belt.
“Not required, not required,” the commander announced, beaming at them and waving his hands as though batting at a moth. Tam snapped her weapons to her belt and smiled at the man, blinking as if she was holding back tears, and then hugged him.
“Thank you so much,” she whispered, so genuine that even Justin almost believed her.
“Of course, of course,” the commander said as he patted her back. “I’m always ready to help those in need,” he added when she stepped back and brushed a real tear off her cheek with the back of her hand. Justin smiled down at her as he clicked his new sword to his belt and then wrapped his left arm around her, reaching to clasp hands with the commander as she hugged his waist.
“We owe you our lives,” Justin stated, holding the commander’s hand firmly. “I can’t thank you enough.” The gearblocked commander praised himself and his own generosity as they stepped outside, warm and dry, to start on their way again.
The nearest guards complained about the wind picking up for what looked like another storm as Justin and Tam stopped to wave and call more thanks at the foot of the bridge, hiding the exhaustion of even the small exertion of walking this far when they beamed smiles at the commander. He waved back, and then they turned and crossed over to the side where Justin could feel Tor waiting.
They stuck to the road ringing the top edge of the pit, Tor pacing them through the trees from a distance. Justin made sure to thank every guard they passed, and only glanced into the mine as much as typical curiosity would allow when a couple of guards muttered about the bad weather halting work and then yesterday tromping through the woods to bring people back after a few slaves escaped into the storm which had just passed.
The door to the next outpost burst open just after they walked by and Justin didn’t even have time to look why when Tor’s thought for them to run blasted through his mind. They staggered four steps on legs which were aching and cramped from shivering for so long before the silent command switched in frustration to fight. Justin unsheathed his new sword as he spun around to face whatever was coming, hoping the blade was good steel, and barely ducked under the swing of the scout who was attacking him as the sword in his hand snapped off cleanly where the scout’s sword struck it. Tam stabbed over his head and surprised the woman in the black uniform by burying a badly made sword in her chest and pulling Justin clear of the back swing that broke the hilt off the decoy weapon Tam had been given.
Justin lunged forward and grabbed the scout’s wrist as she stumbled to her knees. He ducked around her arm and twisted her hand, forcing her to drop the sword into his waiting palm. He stabbed her again to be certain she was dead before turning his back on her to face the little outpost building. Two sets of long planks with boot caps in the middles and curves at the top ends were leaning against the nearest wall. “Scouts use skis” Tor had said, and these looked exactly like what he’d described.
The second scout hesitated in the door, clearly not wanting to make the same mistake of rushing into the fight that her partner had just made. Then she simply stepped out of the way for six mine guards to rush out of the cabin past her.
Tam pulled on Justin’s pack to lead him into a position closer to the trees, and then abruptly changed direction as swords clanged in quick succession where Tor was. Guards poured out of the next outpost and pounded over the bridge as the first six started their attack. Justin fought as well as he could with the unfamiliar curved blade, and was rewarded with a lucky stroke that took off a guard’s hand and gave him a straight blade he was familiar with. He quickly procured a sword for Tam the same way.
Yells and cheering from behind him – in the direction of the pit – created a confusing mix of hollering until Justin realized that the slaves in the top cage below could see the guards running and hear the fighting. Tam killed the last of the first six and then turned so she was back to back with Justin, each of them facing the next force that was arriving from both directions. They dropped their packs as the scout in the nearest outpost rested her hands into her pants pockets and leaned her shoulder on the door frame to watch the next wave of guards arrive, waiting casually to see how events would unfold.
Justin wasn’t sure if he admired or loathed her for acting exactly as he would have had their places been reversed.
The cheering below grew louder as he and Tam were forced closer to the edge of the pit and the slaves in the cage below could see some of the fighting. Justin marked the distance to the edge of the road in his mind’s eye and tried to push the fighting closer to the trees… which worked as well as pushing water uphill with his hands. It seemed like two guards arrived for every one that they were able to kill. The edge of the pit loomed closer as they were driven toward it.
Tor crashed out of the trees, swordless, obviously having been thrown, and rolled into the back of the pack of guards around Justin and Tam. He came up to his feet holding the curved blade Justin had dropped and cleared a swath of guards as he stood, opening a space around himself that gave him a good swing radius simply by killing everything within it. The scout in the doorway took her hands from her pockets and nearly stepped out, but stayed put when whoever Tor had been fighting with charged out of the trees and attacked.
Justin’s internal warnings clanged loudly about the edge of the pit as he swung and blocked, Tam’s shoulder digging into his ribs as she did the same. Then suddenly she wasn’t there. He twisted and dropped, ducking under the incoming blades, and reached over the edge. Tam was already too far down for him to grab. She spun and curled in the air, the short distance she was falling giving her almost no time to prepare to land, and crashed into the top of the highest cage in an awkward roll.
Justin dove off the edge after her as she sprawled to stop herself. Her ass and legs met with nothing but open air. Her sword bounced off the cage and spun away into the pit as her hands slipped over the smooth bars, unable to grab on to anything because of the angle she was reaching from. Justin threw his sword as he landed on the cage and lunged to grab her.
He was too late.
The commander chuckled at the newlywed scenario Justin and Tam presented to him. He insisted they keep the supplies and clothing as gifts while Justin argued over the needed amount of chips he wanted to return payment of once they’d reached Tam’s imaginary family. Almost as an afterthought, and with Justin and Tam both animatedly refusing, the commander pushed a sword and knife each into their hands, cautioning them against bandits in the area.
“This is too much, on top of everything you’ve already given us,” Justin said, trying to hand the weapons back.
“I wouldn’t sleep well knowing that I’d sent you out unable to protect yourselves,” the commander said, preening at his own graciousness. Justin smiled at the new weapons and the commander as if unable to believe his good fortune, while privately hoping the Fengus twit knew the difference between the good steel and the decoys.
“These weapons, you have to allow me to send payment for them,” Justin argued further, holding up the ruse as he clipped the knife to his belt.
“Not required, not required,” the commander announced, beaming at them and waving his hands as though batting at a moth. Tam snapped her weapons to her belt and smiled at the man, blinking as if she was holding back tears, and then hugged him.
“Thank you so much,” she whispered, so genuine that even Justin almost believed her.
“Of course, of course,” the commander said as he patted her back. “I’m always ready to help those in need,” he added when she stepped back and brushed a real tear off her cheek with the back of her hand. Justin smiled down at her as he clicked his new sword to his belt and then wrapped his left arm around her, reaching to clasp hands with the commander as she hugged his waist.
“We owe you our lives,” Justin stated, holding the commander’s hand firmly. “I can’t thank you enough.” The gearblocked commander praised himself and his own generosity as they stepped outside, warm and dry, to start on their way again.
The nearest guards complained about the wind picking up for what looked like another storm as Justin and Tam stopped to wave and call more thanks at the foot of the bridge, hiding the exhaustion of even the small exertion of walking this far when they beamed smiles at the commander. He waved back, and then they turned and crossed over to the side where Justin could feel Tor waiting.
They stuck to the road ringing the top edge of the pit, Tor pacing them through the trees from a distance. Justin made sure to thank every guard they passed, and only glanced into the mine as much as typical curiosity would allow when a couple of guards muttered about the bad weather halting work and then yesterday tromping through the woods to bring people back after a few slaves escaped into the storm which had just passed.
The door to the next outpost burst open just after they walked by and Justin didn’t even have time to look why when Tor’s thought for them to run blasted through his mind. They staggered four steps on legs which were aching and cramped from shivering for so long before the silent command switched in frustration to fight. Justin unsheathed his new sword as he spun around to face whatever was coming, hoping the blade was good steel, and barely ducked under the swing of the scout who was attacking him as the sword in his hand snapped off cleanly where the scout’s sword struck it. Tam stabbed over his head and surprised the woman in the black uniform by burying a badly made sword in her chest and pulling Justin clear of the back swing that broke the hilt off the decoy weapon Tam had been given.
Justin lunged forward and grabbed the scout’s wrist as she stumbled to her knees. He ducked around her arm and twisted her hand, forcing her to drop the sword into his waiting palm. He stabbed her again to be certain she was dead before turning his back on her to face the little outpost building. Two sets of long planks with boot caps in the middles and curves at the top ends were leaning against the nearest wall. “Scouts use skis” Tor had said, and these looked exactly like what he’d described.
The second scout hesitated in the door, clearly not wanting to make the same mistake of rushing into the fight that her partner had just made. Then she simply stepped out of the way for six mine guards to rush out of the cabin past her.
Tam pulled on Justin’s pack to lead him into a position closer to the trees, and then abruptly changed direction as swords clanged in quick succession where Tor was. Guards poured out of the next outpost and pounded over the bridge as the first six started their attack. Justin fought as well as he could with the unfamiliar curved blade, and was rewarded with a lucky stroke that took off a guard’s hand and gave him a straight blade he was familiar with. He quickly procured a sword for Tam the same way.
Yells and cheering from behind him – in the direction of the pit – created a confusing mix of hollering until Justin realized that the slaves in the top cage below could see the guards running and hear the fighting. Tam killed the last of the first six and then turned so she was back to back with Justin, each of them facing the next force that was arriving from both directions. They dropped their packs as the scout in the nearest outpost rested her hands into her pants pockets and leaned her shoulder on the door frame to watch the next wave of guards arrive, waiting casually to see how events would unfold.
Justin wasn’t sure if he admired or loathed her for acting exactly as he would have had their places been reversed.
The cheering below grew louder as he and Tam were forced closer to the edge of the pit and the slaves in the cage below could see some of the fighting. Justin marked the distance to the edge of the road in his mind’s eye and tried to push the fighting closer to the trees… which worked as well as pushing water uphill with his hands. It seemed like two guards arrived for every one that they were able to kill. The edge of the pit loomed closer as they were driven toward it.
Tor crashed out of the trees, swordless, obviously having been thrown, and rolled into the back of the pack of guards around Justin and Tam. He came up to his feet holding the curved blade Justin had dropped and cleared a swath of guards as he stood, opening a space around himself that gave him a good swing radius simply by killing everything within it. The scout in the doorway took her hands from her pockets and nearly stepped out, but stayed put when whoever Tor had been fighting with charged out of the trees and attacked.
Justin’s internal warnings clanged loudly about the edge of the pit as he swung and blocked, Tam’s shoulder digging into his ribs as she did the same. Then suddenly she wasn’t there. He twisted and dropped, ducking under the incoming blades, and reached over the edge. Tam was already too far down for him to grab. She spun and curled in the air, the short distance she was falling giving her almost no time to prepare to land, and crashed into the top of the highest cage in an awkward roll.
Justin dove off the edge after her as she sprawled to stop herself. Her ass and legs met with nothing but open air. Her sword bounced off the cage and spun away into the pit as her hands slipped over the smooth bars, unable to grab on to anything because of the angle she was reaching from. Justin threw his sword as he landed on the cage and lunged to grab her.
He was too late.
FRIENDS AND ENEMIES
Justin snapped to a stop, his left shoulder jerking painfully as it took the brunt of ending his momentum when his hand gripped the bar. The center of his chest slammed into the angle where the top of the cage dropped to the side, his right leg hanging over nothing, and right hand closing on nothing. Justin closed his eyes against witnessing the crushing failure he’d just committed and waited for the screaming to start.
Cheering rose up from below him a moment later and he felt vibrations throughout the cage under him; a roaring of sound that was nearly like applause as hundreds of hands slammed and slapped the bars. He forced his eyes open and looked over the edge to see Tam dangling from... a shadow? She looked around, gasping, and then reached up to lock her hands around the elbow of the black-skinned man holding the shoulder of her coat in his fist. Justin sagged in relief as more hands reached out to hold Tam, but his plan to remain reaching over the side so they could raise her high enough for him to pull her up to the top of the cage was interrupted by multiple impacts of guards landing nearby him.
Justin rose to his knees slowly as the four guards who’d jumped down levelled their swords at him. They stomped on the hands that tried to trip them without even looking down, as if they were practiced at it. A steady pressure dug into the side of his calf. He reached back slowly, keeping view of each guard as they advanced on him, and wrapped his hand around what was being offered. The weight was too heavy to be a blade, and the hexagonal shape was bare metal.
“That’s my son holding the girl,” a deep voice said from right under Justin, the tone cutting through the cheering and jeering. “I’m giving you this so you’ll take him with you.”
“What?” a younger version of the voice barked the question. “Pop, no!”
Justin glanced down. The man talking to him was head and shoulders taller than everyone else in the cage, except his son who was nearly as tall, his skin weathered and just as dark as his son’s. The fist holding the other end of the crow bar was too thick to pass between the grid of the bars. In a glimpse, Justin saw his own father in much too similar a situation.
“Agreed,” Justin answered, and the big man released his hold on the bar.
Justin surged to his feet, bringing the crowbar up through the grid as he did. The heavy steel hummed as he spun with it, gaining the needed speed with the long bar so that it wouldn’t matter if the hits were blocked or not. He started to step sideways as he was facing the rock wall, turning it into a forward lunge as he faced two of the guards and extended his reach. Too far! He ignored the scream of muscles in his left shoulder and focused on holding tighter to the crowbar with his right hand. The weight of the steel took most of the impact and both guards were knocked sideways to tumble away into the pit.
Justin pulled the crowbar closer to his body, stopping the spin by slamming his good shoulder into the rock wall. It left him facing the next two guards. He didn’t bother trying to fight fancy, the bulk of the tool wasn’t suited for fencing, so instead he fought to win as quickly as possible. Three movements later, aided by hands grabbing and slowing the guards’ feet, both guards were screaming their descent into the mine.
Justin looked up to see if there were going to be more guards dropping down, but the ones watching him were backing away from the edge. He could also still hear the exchange Tor was having with however many other scouts were up there. Justin set the crowbar on top of the cage and dropped to one knee. The big man who’d given him the tool clasped his offered right hand firmly when Justin reached through the grid.
“I’ll get you out,” Justin promised. The big man smiled sadly and took a limping step forward so he wasn’t reaching uncomfortably far.
“I’m too slow since I broke my leg some months ago,” he stated. “Take my son. Let out everyone, but be certain you take my son.”
“No,” Justin growled out the reply between gritted teeth. “I’m not leaving you here to –”
“Yes,” the big man interrupted. “You are,”
Justin shook his head to the negative and his arm was pulled effortlessly and suddenly up to his elbow into the cage. The steel bars dug painfully into his elbow and knees. The angry continuation died in the father’s throat and his sad smile came back as he studied Justin’s face.
“This is what dads do,” the big man said quietly. He reached up and clasped Justin’s forearm. “Looks like you already know that, son.”
Justin fought the memories and emotions threatening to overwhelm him and choked on the frustrated yell, swallowing it before he could utter a sound. The big man nodded once, approval glowing on his features, and then released Justin’s arm. As with his own father, Justin didn’t look back once he turned away.
He studied the cage as he stood, seeking the weak points and loose joints, the places that from inside were only hopes, but from out here – with a heavy crow bar – were opportunities. Once he found the places he was looking for, it was a matter of brute force applied in the right ways. Rivets and welds sprang apart to either bludgeoning or prying, as was required, and soon a section of the cage wall and top was being pried and shoved back, the adjoining grids bent over and away by the people inside who were determined to kick their way out.
Guards started dropping down as imprisoned slaves started climbing out. People in the lower cages screamed for their own freedom as escapees mauled and overpowered guards, hidden tools and weapons appearing in their hands now that they had cause to use them. Many slaves climbed down to the lower level and started freeing their friends and loved ones. Justin stood out of the way, catching his breath, and let the evacuation proceed without his input. A few criminals surrounded him.
“He looks tired,” someone with an Islander accent stated.
“That bar’s likely too heavy,” another Islander answered, his tone mocking pity.
“I think we should have it so he can rest,” a familiar voice that Justin knew originated in Tenet Mik added.
“Try it, Cobb,” Justin invited him. “I’d very much like to see you, Archie, try it.”
Archie Cobb had sailed with Montrade, the company that Justin’s family owned, up until a year ago when he’d staged a mutiny. Half the crew had been killed when Cobb stole the ship and cargo. He hadn’t been smart enough to take a fast ship, though, or one that was well armed. Justin and his uncle had chased him down with the Gem. Cobb had not expected Justin’s alter ego to be such a distant relation to the fashionable fop he thought he’d stolen the ship from.
“How’s he know your name, Archie?” a fourth voice asked, completing the small gang standing around him.
Justin lifted his head and stared hard at the man he’d personally thrown overboard just off the Opat shoreline. Cobb ramped up from cocky to blind rage in the span of a heartbeat, recognition jolting through his entire body, but stood rooted to the spot as the instinctive part of his mind wrestled the anger down using arguments of self-preservation.
Justin snapped to a stop, his left shoulder jerking painfully as it took the brunt of ending his momentum when his hand gripped the bar. The center of his chest slammed into the angle where the top of the cage dropped to the side, his right leg hanging over nothing, and right hand closing on nothing. Justin closed his eyes against witnessing the crushing failure he’d just committed and waited for the screaming to start.
Cheering rose up from below him a moment later and he felt vibrations throughout the cage under him; a roaring of sound that was nearly like applause as hundreds of hands slammed and slapped the bars. He forced his eyes open and looked over the edge to see Tam dangling from... a shadow? She looked around, gasping, and then reached up to lock her hands around the elbow of the black-skinned man holding the shoulder of her coat in his fist. Justin sagged in relief as more hands reached out to hold Tam, but his plan to remain reaching over the side so they could raise her high enough for him to pull her up to the top of the cage was interrupted by multiple impacts of guards landing nearby him.
Justin rose to his knees slowly as the four guards who’d jumped down levelled their swords at him. They stomped on the hands that tried to trip them without even looking down, as if they were practiced at it. A steady pressure dug into the side of his calf. He reached back slowly, keeping view of each guard as they advanced on him, and wrapped his hand around what was being offered. The weight was too heavy to be a blade, and the hexagonal shape was bare metal.
“That’s my son holding the girl,” a deep voice said from right under Justin, the tone cutting through the cheering and jeering. “I’m giving you this so you’ll take him with you.”
“What?” a younger version of the voice barked the question. “Pop, no!”
Justin glanced down. The man talking to him was head and shoulders taller than everyone else in the cage, except his son who was nearly as tall, his skin weathered and just as dark as his son’s. The fist holding the other end of the crow bar was too thick to pass between the grid of the bars. In a glimpse, Justin saw his own father in much too similar a situation.
“Agreed,” Justin answered, and the big man released his hold on the bar.
Justin surged to his feet, bringing the crowbar up through the grid as he did. The heavy steel hummed as he spun with it, gaining the needed speed with the long bar so that it wouldn’t matter if the hits were blocked or not. He started to step sideways as he was facing the rock wall, turning it into a forward lunge as he faced two of the guards and extended his reach. Too far! He ignored the scream of muscles in his left shoulder and focused on holding tighter to the crowbar with his right hand. The weight of the steel took most of the impact and both guards were knocked sideways to tumble away into the pit.
Justin pulled the crowbar closer to his body, stopping the spin by slamming his good shoulder into the rock wall. It left him facing the next two guards. He didn’t bother trying to fight fancy, the bulk of the tool wasn’t suited for fencing, so instead he fought to win as quickly as possible. Three movements later, aided by hands grabbing and slowing the guards’ feet, both guards were screaming their descent into the mine.
Justin looked up to see if there were going to be more guards dropping down, but the ones watching him were backing away from the edge. He could also still hear the exchange Tor was having with however many other scouts were up there. Justin set the crowbar on top of the cage and dropped to one knee. The big man who’d given him the tool clasped his offered right hand firmly when Justin reached through the grid.
“I’ll get you out,” Justin promised. The big man smiled sadly and took a limping step forward so he wasn’t reaching uncomfortably far.
“I’m too slow since I broke my leg some months ago,” he stated. “Take my son. Let out everyone, but be certain you take my son.”
“No,” Justin growled out the reply between gritted teeth. “I’m not leaving you here to –”
“Yes,” the big man interrupted. “You are,”
Justin shook his head to the negative and his arm was pulled effortlessly and suddenly up to his elbow into the cage. The steel bars dug painfully into his elbow and knees. The angry continuation died in the father’s throat and his sad smile came back as he studied Justin’s face.
“This is what dads do,” the big man said quietly. He reached up and clasped Justin’s forearm. “Looks like you already know that, son.”
Justin fought the memories and emotions threatening to overwhelm him and choked on the frustrated yell, swallowing it before he could utter a sound. The big man nodded once, approval glowing on his features, and then released Justin’s arm. As with his own father, Justin didn’t look back once he turned away.
He studied the cage as he stood, seeking the weak points and loose joints, the places that from inside were only hopes, but from out here – with a heavy crow bar – were opportunities. Once he found the places he was looking for, it was a matter of brute force applied in the right ways. Rivets and welds sprang apart to either bludgeoning or prying, as was required, and soon a section of the cage wall and top was being pried and shoved back, the adjoining grids bent over and away by the people inside who were determined to kick their way out.
Guards started dropping down as imprisoned slaves started climbing out. People in the lower cages screamed for their own freedom as escapees mauled and overpowered guards, hidden tools and weapons appearing in their hands now that they had cause to use them. Many slaves climbed down to the lower level and started freeing their friends and loved ones. Justin stood out of the way, catching his breath, and let the evacuation proceed without his input. A few criminals surrounded him.
“He looks tired,” someone with an Islander accent stated.
“That bar’s likely too heavy,” another Islander answered, his tone mocking pity.
“I think we should have it so he can rest,” a familiar voice that Justin knew originated in Tenet Mik added.
“Try it, Cobb,” Justin invited him. “I’d very much like to see you, Archie, try it.”
Archie Cobb had sailed with Montrade, the company that Justin’s family owned, up until a year ago when he’d staged a mutiny. Half the crew had been killed when Cobb stole the ship and cargo. He hadn’t been smart enough to take a fast ship, though, or one that was well armed. Justin and his uncle had chased him down with the Gem. Cobb had not expected Justin’s alter ego to be such a distant relation to the fashionable fop he thought he’d stolen the ship from.
“How’s he know your name, Archie?” a fourth voice asked, completing the small gang standing around him.
Justin lifted his head and stared hard at the man he’d personally thrown overboard just off the Opat shoreline. Cobb ramped up from cocky to blind rage in the span of a heartbeat, recognition jolting through his entire body, but stood rooted to the spot as the instinctive part of his mind wrestled the anger down using arguments of self-preservation.
ENEMIES AND FRIENDS
The clanging of the fight above silenced. A moment later Tor dropped to the cage beside Justin. He was breathing hard from exertion, but otherwise seemed fine as he straightened. Now that most of the slaves were loose and running away, and most of the guards were dealing with that, Justin could hear parts of the quiet conversation happening under his feet which he was intent on ignoring.
“Good afternoon,” Tor huffed. Justin nodded in greeting as Tor looked around. “Did you still have Tam with you?”
“Look down two idlesides,” Justin answered.
“Oh, in the cage. I suppose that’s good,” Tor said. He sniffed and coughed while looking between his feet, his nose running from having fought to sweating in the cold weather. Tam was sitting with the dark-skinned son and father.
“That was Jin you were fighting with?” Justin asked.
“For most of it, yes,” Tor said and nodded. “He wouldn’t quit fighting, but he wouldn’t kill me either. I guess that means we’re still friends.”
“That’s good,” Justin said, tilting a small grin down at Tor.
“I know, right?” Tor was smiling widely behind his mask, Justin could hear it. “He’s gone back to report, though, so we need to get going.” He sniffled and coughed again, then his head tilted slightly as he looked at the small gang surrounding Justin. “Are these four friends of yours, in awe of you, or simply struck immobile by how bad you smell?”
“I know him,” Justin said, pointing out Archie Cobb. “The rest were deciding whether or not to attack me on his behalf.”
“Ooh.” Tor stretched out the single syllable. “So they’re stone-headed?”
“Completely gearblocked,” Justin agreed. “What about the other scout, the one in the outpost doorway?”
“She was new. I’d never met her before.” Tor rolled his shoulders as he visually measured the men now watching him as well. Justin noted his use of past tense regarding the new scout and didn’t bother asking any further. “Shall we get going then?” Tor clapped his hands as if he was coaching a sport at grammar school. “Tam, are you ready to go?” he called down.
She settled a comforting hand on the shoulder of the young man who’d caught her and smiled tightly up at her brother. “We’ll be right up,” she answered.
“Those two with Tam are friends, right?” Tor asked Justin, pointing down at the men Tam was sitting with.
“They are now,” Justin replied. “The younger one is coming with us. His father gave me this after I dropped my sword.”
Tor looked at the crowbar, then turned and watched the quiet conversation for a moment before shifting impatiently.
“When is he coming with us?” Tor asked. “We really need to get moving.”
“They’re still standing here. You can kill them while we’re waiting.” Justin gestured with the top of the crow bar at the four men growing more confused the longer they were ignored.
“You don’t want to?” Tor asked, the tone of his reply suited better to having been asked if he wanted the last sweet biscuit after a light luncheon.
“No, you go ahead,” Justin confirmed. Two of the four simply ran away as Tor drew only one of the two swords he again had on his belt. Cobb and the other man didn’t stand a chance, even with the cobbled together weapons they’d made from mining tools.
“Are you all right?” Tor asked, noticing Justin hadn’t moved during the very short fight.
“I think I dislocated my left shoulder,” Justin answered.
“That must hurt.” Tor cleaned his blade and sheathed it.
“Doesn’t feel good.”
Tor prodded at the joint in question. Justin winced and groaned from the pain of the inspection. “You did dislocate it,” Tor stated confidently, positioning himself to realign the arm into its proper place. “I can set this, but you have to promise me something,” he added.
“Promise you what?” Justin asked, expecting something else about Tam and focusing on his feet while trying not to tense up in anticipation of how much setting it was going to hurt. Just having Tor lift the arm’s weight off the injured joint immediately felt better, but experience dictated that slight relief would be over very soon.
“Promise you won’t hit me with the crow bar if this doesn’t work the first time.”
“What? Wait, you just said you could – ouch!”
Justin tried to remember how to breathe after the shock of setting the joint ebbed and his shoulder ceased being terrifically painful. Tor was still holding the injured arm, giving the joint a chance to settle before having to support itself again.
“Here, tuck it like this so you can pretend you have a sling,” Tor instructed gently, threading Justin’s forearm through the strap of the pack he was still wearing. “I wanted to ask you something since this morning. Is your mam as scary as she, well, felt?”
“No,” Justin said and then chuckled. “My mom is much, much worse.”
“Huh,” Tor replied, a smirk in his voice. “That explains why you have mortar for marrow,” he complimented.
The cage rattled as Tam and the trio’s two new friends climbed to the top. Tor looked at the father’s crooked foot and the son’s face and – for once – kept his mouth shut. Justin busied himself fidgeting with the strap that was acting as a sling, not looking up when one of the massive, weathered hands squeezed his good shoulder briefly, or when the father limped away.
“Pop’s going to blow the canal wall to let the river out of its channel and destroy the mine,” the young man stated after his father walked away. “It should be enough of a distraction to keep everyone away from us. There’s a supply shed at the top of that hoist.” He pointed a quarter of the way around the mine, well away from where the other slaves were fighting with the guards. “That’ll be our best place to find something to help us get away.”
“Lead the way,” Tor gestured.
“Here,” Justin said, offering the crow bar to their group’s newest addition as they set off. “I’ll pick up a sword on the way.”
The young man looked down at him, his dark eyes too old and too angry for the face they were resting in, and took the tool without saying a word.
“I’m Tor Nao-ak,” Tor said, introducing himself as he pulled his mask off and tossed it into the pit. “You already met my sister, Tam,” he added as he nodded toward her.
“John Duncan,” John introduced himself and then his heavy stare landed on Justin expectantly.
“He’s our nameless companion,” Tor answered after a moment of silence. “But he answers to ‘hey’, ‘look’, ‘no’, and ‘don’t do that’ if you need to get his attention,” he added with a smirk. John scoffed a single laugh.
“My folks had a dog named Kony that only answered to those same things when I was a kid,” John stated, the tone leaving no doubt he was attempting to be insulting to the man he viewed as leaving his father behind.
“That was a terrible insult, John Duncan,” Tor said, the look on his face disgusted. “You’ll have to get a lot better at verbal sparring if you’re going to travel with Tam,” he added, hooking a thumb toward his sister and making Tam snort out a chuckle. Tor was about to continue, but silenced when he heard a horn blowing. It was too far away to echo in the mine, but the notes were clear.
“What is it?” Tam asked.
“Advance infantry,” Tor said, answering Tam as he reached to take the pack she was carrying. “They’re closer than I expected. That puts the scouts at half that distance.”
“So we’re running?” Justin asked, gripping his bad arm with his good one so he wouldn’t be jarring his injured shoulder more than necessary.
“We’re running,” Tor confirmed, settling the pack onto his own shoulders. “We’re running, really, really fast,” he added.
The clanging of the fight above silenced. A moment later Tor dropped to the cage beside Justin. He was breathing hard from exertion, but otherwise seemed fine as he straightened. Now that most of the slaves were loose and running away, and most of the guards were dealing with that, Justin could hear parts of the quiet conversation happening under his feet which he was intent on ignoring.
“Good afternoon,” Tor huffed. Justin nodded in greeting as Tor looked around. “Did you still have Tam with you?”
“Look down two idlesides,” Justin answered.
“Oh, in the cage. I suppose that’s good,” Tor said. He sniffed and coughed while looking between his feet, his nose running from having fought to sweating in the cold weather. Tam was sitting with the dark-skinned son and father.
“That was Jin you were fighting with?” Justin asked.
“For most of it, yes,” Tor said and nodded. “He wouldn’t quit fighting, but he wouldn’t kill me either. I guess that means we’re still friends.”
“That’s good,” Justin said, tilting a small grin down at Tor.
“I know, right?” Tor was smiling widely behind his mask, Justin could hear it. “He’s gone back to report, though, so we need to get going.” He sniffled and coughed again, then his head tilted slightly as he looked at the small gang surrounding Justin. “Are these four friends of yours, in awe of you, or simply struck immobile by how bad you smell?”
“I know him,” Justin said, pointing out Archie Cobb. “The rest were deciding whether or not to attack me on his behalf.”
“Ooh.” Tor stretched out the single syllable. “So they’re stone-headed?”
“Completely gearblocked,” Justin agreed. “What about the other scout, the one in the outpost doorway?”
“She was new. I’d never met her before.” Tor rolled his shoulders as he visually measured the men now watching him as well. Justin noted his use of past tense regarding the new scout and didn’t bother asking any further. “Shall we get going then?” Tor clapped his hands as if he was coaching a sport at grammar school. “Tam, are you ready to go?” he called down.
She settled a comforting hand on the shoulder of the young man who’d caught her and smiled tightly up at her brother. “We’ll be right up,” she answered.
“Those two with Tam are friends, right?” Tor asked Justin, pointing down at the men Tam was sitting with.
“They are now,” Justin replied. “The younger one is coming with us. His father gave me this after I dropped my sword.”
Tor looked at the crowbar, then turned and watched the quiet conversation for a moment before shifting impatiently.
“When is he coming with us?” Tor asked. “We really need to get moving.”
“They’re still standing here. You can kill them while we’re waiting.” Justin gestured with the top of the crow bar at the four men growing more confused the longer they were ignored.
“You don’t want to?” Tor asked, the tone of his reply suited better to having been asked if he wanted the last sweet biscuit after a light luncheon.
“No, you go ahead,” Justin confirmed. Two of the four simply ran away as Tor drew only one of the two swords he again had on his belt. Cobb and the other man didn’t stand a chance, even with the cobbled together weapons they’d made from mining tools.
“Are you all right?” Tor asked, noticing Justin hadn’t moved during the very short fight.
“I think I dislocated my left shoulder,” Justin answered.
“That must hurt.” Tor cleaned his blade and sheathed it.
“Doesn’t feel good.”
Tor prodded at the joint in question. Justin winced and groaned from the pain of the inspection. “You did dislocate it,” Tor stated confidently, positioning himself to realign the arm into its proper place. “I can set this, but you have to promise me something,” he added.
“Promise you what?” Justin asked, expecting something else about Tam and focusing on his feet while trying not to tense up in anticipation of how much setting it was going to hurt. Just having Tor lift the arm’s weight off the injured joint immediately felt better, but experience dictated that slight relief would be over very soon.
“Promise you won’t hit me with the crow bar if this doesn’t work the first time.”
“What? Wait, you just said you could – ouch!”
Justin tried to remember how to breathe after the shock of setting the joint ebbed and his shoulder ceased being terrifically painful. Tor was still holding the injured arm, giving the joint a chance to settle before having to support itself again.
“Here, tuck it like this so you can pretend you have a sling,” Tor instructed gently, threading Justin’s forearm through the strap of the pack he was still wearing. “I wanted to ask you something since this morning. Is your mam as scary as she, well, felt?”
“No,” Justin said and then chuckled. “My mom is much, much worse.”
“Huh,” Tor replied, a smirk in his voice. “That explains why you have mortar for marrow,” he complimented.
The cage rattled as Tam and the trio’s two new friends climbed to the top. Tor looked at the father’s crooked foot and the son’s face and – for once – kept his mouth shut. Justin busied himself fidgeting with the strap that was acting as a sling, not looking up when one of the massive, weathered hands squeezed his good shoulder briefly, or when the father limped away.
“Pop’s going to blow the canal wall to let the river out of its channel and destroy the mine,” the young man stated after his father walked away. “It should be enough of a distraction to keep everyone away from us. There’s a supply shed at the top of that hoist.” He pointed a quarter of the way around the mine, well away from where the other slaves were fighting with the guards. “That’ll be our best place to find something to help us get away.”
“Lead the way,” Tor gestured.
“Here,” Justin said, offering the crow bar to their group’s newest addition as they set off. “I’ll pick up a sword on the way.”
The young man looked down at him, his dark eyes too old and too angry for the face they were resting in, and took the tool without saying a word.
“I’m Tor Nao-ak,” Tor said, introducing himself as he pulled his mask off and tossed it into the pit. “You already met my sister, Tam,” he added as he nodded toward her.
“John Duncan,” John introduced himself and then his heavy stare landed on Justin expectantly.
“He’s our nameless companion,” Tor answered after a moment of silence. “But he answers to ‘hey’, ‘look’, ‘no’, and ‘don’t do that’ if you need to get his attention,” he added with a smirk. John scoffed a single laugh.
“My folks had a dog named Kony that only answered to those same things when I was a kid,” John stated, the tone leaving no doubt he was attempting to be insulting to the man he viewed as leaving his father behind.
“That was a terrible insult, John Duncan,” Tor said, the look on his face disgusted. “You’ll have to get a lot better at verbal sparring if you’re going to travel with Tam,” he added, hooking a thumb toward his sister and making Tam snort out a chuckle. Tor was about to continue, but silenced when he heard a horn blowing. It was too far away to echo in the mine, but the notes were clear.
“What is it?” Tam asked.
“Advance infantry,” Tor said, answering Tam as he reached to take the pack she was carrying. “They’re closer than I expected. That puts the scouts at half that distance.”
“So we’re running?” Justin asked, gripping his bad arm with his good one so he wouldn’t be jarring his injured shoulder more than necessary.
“We’re running,” Tor confirmed, settling the pack onto his own shoulders. “We’re running, really, really fast,” he added.
PROMISED
They jogged carefully to the end of the cage so they wouldn’t trip on the grid and then climbed down. They raced as quickly as they could toward the pulley hoist that John had pointed out, Tor and John doing the needed fighting against the few guards who tried to stop them. Tor collected two new straight-bladed swords and gave them both to Tam so Justin kept a free hand to hold his injured arm with.
Tam and Justin collapsed near the base of the hoist as John clicked the ratchets and started the platform dropping down to the narrow road they were on. Tor took up a look-out stance, watching the edge of the pit that the army would be arriving from, and the storm clouds that would be arriving with them.
“I hope that hoist rises faster than it lowers,” Tor called over his shoulder as the first of the regular movements he’d been expecting started where he was watching.
“What do you see?” Tam asked, her voice exhausted.
“When will your dad be destroying the canal?” Tor ignored his sister’s question and walked over to stand beside John at the hoist controls.
“Getting to the blasts, getting to the canal, setting everything… probably another ten minutes if he doesn’t have to deal with any guards,” John answered, adjusting the controls so the platform dropped quicker for the final few idlesides.
“And if he does have to deal with guards?” Tor asked, watching the motions on the far side of the mine a moment longer, then turning to study what John was doing.
“Twenty minutes, at most,” John assured the group.
“What’s wrong, Tor?” Tam asked, pushing up to her feet.
“Jin’s back. He brought friends,” Tor answered, not looking away from the ratchets controlling the hoist’s platform and counterweights until the platform was sitting on the road. “Load up,” he ordered.
Tor helped Tam settle in the middle, setting the pack of supplies he’d been carrying in her lap and checking over his weapons to make sure everything drew properly. Justin pushed up to his feet and started pulling off the pack he was carrying. Tor scoffed a laugh at him and hooked a hand behind the elbow of Justin’s bad arm.
“You couldn’t fight scouts and you know it,” Tor whispered so his sister wouldn’t hear.
“You can’t do it alone and we don’t know if John can fight,” Justin argued at the same volume.
“I figure as a petty thief and a couple of non-criminal laborers, you three will be forgotten by the end of tomorrow,” Tor said. “But a disloyal scout? A deserter?” He shook his head to the negative. “Me they’ll keep hunting.”
“So we stay ahead of them and get to the coast,” Justin argued. “That was the deal.”
“No it wasn’t.” Tor tilted his head to look up at Justin. “The deal was I set you free and you set Tam free. Her staying alive gets you to the coast, and you being alive buys her safe passage out of Opat. No matter what happens to me, you take care of her.”
Justin’s brows furrowed as he wracked his brain for something other than what Tor was saying right now and came up with only memories that matched.
“No, I –”
“You promised this morning. Whatever happens to me you’ll take care of her.” Tor’s grin angled into something sad. He let go of Justin’s arm and tapped a finger into Justin’s chest. “You promised,” Tor repeated.
“No, that was for crossing the river. That wasn’t –”
Justin’s argument ended in a grunt. He was lying on his back, staring up at the crane cables overhead, trying to remember how to inhale while his shoulder screamed at him not to.
The pack Justin had been carrying thudded onto the platform. Tor had grabbed it when he threw Justin, a simple way to make sure he landed flat so as not to hurt his wounded shoulder further. The scout kicked one of John’s feet out from under him and shoved the bigger man onto the platform as he was still stumbling. Tor reached into the guts of the machine that controlled the hoist and, with a sound half way between a grunt and a growl, ripped out the brake holding the platform down. Justin rolled and reached out with his right hand, but Tor dodged around the first grab and ducked away from the second, using the spin to throw his weapons belt. Justin’s fist closed around the leather strap that had both swords, three knives, and both lengths of rope hanging from it.
You promised! Justin heard the words clearly even though Tor’s lips didn’t move as the scout pointed up at him on the receding platform. Then Tor smiled brightly and waved a friendly farewell, knowing anything he tried to yell would be heard all the way around the mine and not willing to pass on anything to the troop of scouts which could be used against him later.
The emergency brake automatically applied at the top – as all cranes had in case of control failure – and the platform jerkily came to a stop, banging hard into the catch. Tor waited for the counterweight cables to go slack and then used them to quickly scale further into the mine. Justin watched the black shapes on the other side of the pit pause and then all sharply change direction to follow Tor straight down.
Tam was silently crying when Justin looked at her, her face composed calmly beneath the tears. He was holding nothing but the belt when he finally sat up. She looked at it, nodded once, and then picked up the pack of supplies she’d been given in one hand and the two straight bladed swords in the other. Justin pushed up to his feet and helped Tam stand, steadying her as she stepped onto the catch, and leaving her leaning on the railing while he went back to retrieve his pack.
“I’m sorry,” John stated, not aiming his condolences at either of them singly.
“Where’s the shed?” Tam asked, bracing against the wind as a gust rocked the platform. John swallowed hard and led them the short distance to the supply shed.
Justin paused beside the small building and looked out at the clear view on this side of the mine. The heavy trees leading in had been cleared away what looked like decades again to make fields for farmland and he could see all the way down to where the snow stopped, and then beyond into the green and brown winter crops below. The farms under the snow line were all so far away that they were tinged blue. The guards’ village was nestled into the side of the mountain above where they were standing. It was maybe only a twenty minute walk, at a fast pace, from the closest houses to that edge of the mine.
“This is the way we need to go?” Justin asked Tam, pointing toward the distant farms.
“Yes,” she answered woodenly. There was a muffled thunk and then the sound of wood splintering. Justin looked over at John.
“Door’s unlocked,” John said, lowering the crow bar as a gust of wind pushed the door fully open. “I figure if we take one of these sleds, and we take turns pulling it, we can –”
“Got any canvas tarps in there?” Justin interrupted, tucking his bad arm into the strap of his pack the way Tor had shown him as he walked over to look at what supplies were available.
“What are you thinking?” Tam asked, stepping beside him. Justin stepped into the shed to study the heavy ratchets and replacement crane poles.
“You’re an Islander?” he asked John as the shed’s inventory started coming together into a plan. Justin already knew the answer from John’s accent, but he didn’t know John, so he waited.
“Yes.”
“Do you know how to sail?” Justin pressed.
“Of course,” John’s tone was nearly offended.
“Ever build a boat?” Justin asked.
“No,” John answered flatly.
“Good.” Justin grinned over his shoulder at the larger man. “Then you can’t argue with me about how wrong this will be.”
They jogged carefully to the end of the cage so they wouldn’t trip on the grid and then climbed down. They raced as quickly as they could toward the pulley hoist that John had pointed out, Tor and John doing the needed fighting against the few guards who tried to stop them. Tor collected two new straight-bladed swords and gave them both to Tam so Justin kept a free hand to hold his injured arm with.
Tam and Justin collapsed near the base of the hoist as John clicked the ratchets and started the platform dropping down to the narrow road they were on. Tor took up a look-out stance, watching the edge of the pit that the army would be arriving from, and the storm clouds that would be arriving with them.
“I hope that hoist rises faster than it lowers,” Tor called over his shoulder as the first of the regular movements he’d been expecting started where he was watching.
“What do you see?” Tam asked, her voice exhausted.
“When will your dad be destroying the canal?” Tor ignored his sister’s question and walked over to stand beside John at the hoist controls.
“Getting to the blasts, getting to the canal, setting everything… probably another ten minutes if he doesn’t have to deal with any guards,” John answered, adjusting the controls so the platform dropped quicker for the final few idlesides.
“And if he does have to deal with guards?” Tor asked, watching the motions on the far side of the mine a moment longer, then turning to study what John was doing.
“Twenty minutes, at most,” John assured the group.
“What’s wrong, Tor?” Tam asked, pushing up to her feet.
“Jin’s back. He brought friends,” Tor answered, not looking away from the ratchets controlling the hoist’s platform and counterweights until the platform was sitting on the road. “Load up,” he ordered.
Tor helped Tam settle in the middle, setting the pack of supplies he’d been carrying in her lap and checking over his weapons to make sure everything drew properly. Justin pushed up to his feet and started pulling off the pack he was carrying. Tor scoffed a laugh at him and hooked a hand behind the elbow of Justin’s bad arm.
“You couldn’t fight scouts and you know it,” Tor whispered so his sister wouldn’t hear.
“You can’t do it alone and we don’t know if John can fight,” Justin argued at the same volume.
“I figure as a petty thief and a couple of non-criminal laborers, you three will be forgotten by the end of tomorrow,” Tor said. “But a disloyal scout? A deserter?” He shook his head to the negative. “Me they’ll keep hunting.”
“So we stay ahead of them and get to the coast,” Justin argued. “That was the deal.”
“No it wasn’t.” Tor tilted his head to look up at Justin. “The deal was I set you free and you set Tam free. Her staying alive gets you to the coast, and you being alive buys her safe passage out of Opat. No matter what happens to me, you take care of her.”
Justin’s brows furrowed as he wracked his brain for something other than what Tor was saying right now and came up with only memories that matched.
“No, I –”
“You promised this morning. Whatever happens to me you’ll take care of her.” Tor’s grin angled into something sad. He let go of Justin’s arm and tapped a finger into Justin’s chest. “You promised,” Tor repeated.
“No, that was for crossing the river. That wasn’t –”
Justin’s argument ended in a grunt. He was lying on his back, staring up at the crane cables overhead, trying to remember how to inhale while his shoulder screamed at him not to.
The pack Justin had been carrying thudded onto the platform. Tor had grabbed it when he threw Justin, a simple way to make sure he landed flat so as not to hurt his wounded shoulder further. The scout kicked one of John’s feet out from under him and shoved the bigger man onto the platform as he was still stumbling. Tor reached into the guts of the machine that controlled the hoist and, with a sound half way between a grunt and a growl, ripped out the brake holding the platform down. Justin rolled and reached out with his right hand, but Tor dodged around the first grab and ducked away from the second, using the spin to throw his weapons belt. Justin’s fist closed around the leather strap that had both swords, three knives, and both lengths of rope hanging from it.
You promised! Justin heard the words clearly even though Tor’s lips didn’t move as the scout pointed up at him on the receding platform. Then Tor smiled brightly and waved a friendly farewell, knowing anything he tried to yell would be heard all the way around the mine and not willing to pass on anything to the troop of scouts which could be used against him later.
The emergency brake automatically applied at the top – as all cranes had in case of control failure – and the platform jerkily came to a stop, banging hard into the catch. Tor waited for the counterweight cables to go slack and then used them to quickly scale further into the mine. Justin watched the black shapes on the other side of the pit pause and then all sharply change direction to follow Tor straight down.
Tam was silently crying when Justin looked at her, her face composed calmly beneath the tears. He was holding nothing but the belt when he finally sat up. She looked at it, nodded once, and then picked up the pack of supplies she’d been given in one hand and the two straight bladed swords in the other. Justin pushed up to his feet and helped Tam stand, steadying her as she stepped onto the catch, and leaving her leaning on the railing while he went back to retrieve his pack.
“I’m sorry,” John stated, not aiming his condolences at either of them singly.
“Where’s the shed?” Tam asked, bracing against the wind as a gust rocked the platform. John swallowed hard and led them the short distance to the supply shed.
Justin paused beside the small building and looked out at the clear view on this side of the mine. The heavy trees leading in had been cleared away what looked like decades again to make fields for farmland and he could see all the way down to where the snow stopped, and then beyond into the green and brown winter crops below. The farms under the snow line were all so far away that they were tinged blue. The guards’ village was nestled into the side of the mountain above where they were standing. It was maybe only a twenty minute walk, at a fast pace, from the closest houses to that edge of the mine.
“This is the way we need to go?” Justin asked Tam, pointing toward the distant farms.
“Yes,” she answered woodenly. There was a muffled thunk and then the sound of wood splintering. Justin looked over at John.
“Door’s unlocked,” John said, lowering the crow bar as a gust of wind pushed the door fully open. “I figure if we take one of these sleds, and we take turns pulling it, we can –”
“Got any canvas tarps in there?” Justin interrupted, tucking his bad arm into the strap of his pack the way Tor had shown him as he walked over to look at what supplies were available.
“What are you thinking?” Tam asked, stepping beside him. Justin stepped into the shed to study the heavy ratchets and replacement crane poles.
“You’re an Islander?” he asked John as the shed’s inventory started coming together into a plan. Justin already knew the answer from John’s accent, but he didn’t know John, so he waited.
“Yes.”
“Do you know how to sail?” Justin pressed.
“Of course,” John’s tone was nearly offended.
“Ever build a boat?” Justin asked.
“No,” John answered flatly.
“Good.” Justin grinned over his shoulder at the larger man. “Then you can’t argue with me about how wrong this will be.”
QUICK ESCAPES
The contraption that they quickly pieced together and anchored to a sled large enough for all of them didn’t have much in common with a ship outside of possessing a mast and sail, but Justin reasoned that should be enough. Tam tied the spare parts Justin wanted to bring onto the sled as John eyed up the conglomeration critically.
“I don’t think fifteen minutes –”
“It’ll get us down to bare grass before nightfall using this wind,” Justin interrupted.
“Or fall apart the moment a gust hits the doubled over tarp you want to pretend is a sail,” John countered.
“Or that,” Justin agreed.
John was about to keep arguing, but was interrupted before he had a chance to speak by the boom! of large mining charges. Justin walked the few strides needed to see into the bottom of the pit. The shape that he knew was Tor had been kneeling in the middle of a ring of other black shapes for the past five minutes. He’d kept them chasing him around the bottom of the mine for nearly ten minutes and then simply turned to them and surrendered. Probably only because he’d gotten tired. Now he was being pulled up to his feet (that was Jin pulling him up, Justin knew it) and they were all running for the nearest road up as the first rush of falling stone and river began its descent.
The guards who had been marching many recaptured slaves down to the cages that were still secure simply stopped, spun and – leaving the slaves – turned to run back up the slope as more of the canal fractured and crashed down the wall to the bottom of the mine. The abandoned slaves quickly broke open the last cages and then all followed, their small victories rekindled as they raced back up to the edge of the pit with hopes this time of freedom beyond the ridge.
“That’s going to be a very big lake,” Tam stated from beside Justin’s elbow.
“Good thing we have a boat,” Justin replied.
They climbed onto the sled and wrapped into blankets, and then tied themselves and their packs to the makeshift mast. John swallowed his arguments, not having any better ideas, and followed after a moment. Justin handed him a tie rope that John knotted around his ankle in the Islander fashion.
“Please don’t fall apart,” John whispered as nearby yelling informed them they’d just been found by a guard patrol rounding up escapees.
John took the steering and sail lines to hand and released the crowbar so it dropped to click into place at the bottom of the mast. The tarp snapped taut and the sled started creeping forward, gaining speed as they tilted down toward the distant farmlands. A few guards on skis started after them, initially getting close, but then a heavier gust hit and the sled accelerated away down the slope.
The contraption that they quickly pieced together and anchored to a sled large enough for all of them didn’t have much in common with a ship outside of possessing a mast and sail, but Justin reasoned that should be enough. Tam tied the spare parts Justin wanted to bring onto the sled as John eyed up the conglomeration critically.
“I don’t think fifteen minutes –”
“It’ll get us down to bare grass before nightfall using this wind,” Justin interrupted.
“Or fall apart the moment a gust hits the doubled over tarp you want to pretend is a sail,” John countered.
“Or that,” Justin agreed.
John was about to keep arguing, but was interrupted before he had a chance to speak by the boom! of large mining charges. Justin walked the few strides needed to see into the bottom of the pit. The shape that he knew was Tor had been kneeling in the middle of a ring of other black shapes for the past five minutes. He’d kept them chasing him around the bottom of the mine for nearly ten minutes and then simply turned to them and surrendered. Probably only because he’d gotten tired. Now he was being pulled up to his feet (that was Jin pulling him up, Justin knew it) and they were all running for the nearest road up as the first rush of falling stone and river began its descent.
The guards who had been marching many recaptured slaves down to the cages that were still secure simply stopped, spun and – leaving the slaves – turned to run back up the slope as more of the canal fractured and crashed down the wall to the bottom of the mine. The abandoned slaves quickly broke open the last cages and then all followed, their small victories rekindled as they raced back up to the edge of the pit with hopes this time of freedom beyond the ridge.
“That’s going to be a very big lake,” Tam stated from beside Justin’s elbow.
“Good thing we have a boat,” Justin replied.
They climbed onto the sled and wrapped into blankets, and then tied themselves and their packs to the makeshift mast. John swallowed his arguments, not having any better ideas, and followed after a moment. Justin handed him a tie rope that John knotted around his ankle in the Islander fashion.
“Please don’t fall apart,” John whispered as nearby yelling informed them they’d just been found by a guard patrol rounding up escapees.
John took the steering and sail lines to hand and released the crowbar so it dropped to click into place at the bottom of the mast. The tarp snapped taut and the sled started creeping forward, gaining speed as they tilted down toward the distant farmlands. A few guards on skis started after them, initially getting close, but then a heavier gust hit and the sled accelerated away down the slope.
*****
Tor bent double and rested his hands on his knees to catch his breath. The scouts around him, except for Jin, were all in various poses of stiffly posturing that they weren’t as winded as he was after the run out of the mine. He huffed out a laugh and nodded at the freshly made waterfall that was already starting to pool at the bottom of the mine in spite of still pouring into the tunnels. It would take days to fill the mine and pit completely and re-channel back into the low-lying bed down the mountain and away from the mine.
“What are you laughing at, deserter?” one of the scouts he didn’t recognize the voice of spit the question. Must be new, Tor thought. He only shook his head, keeping his thoughts to himself. Jin slapped his friend on the back of the head.
“Ouch,” Tor stated as he straightened up, his tone exaggeratingly hurt.
“You knew someone was going to blow the canal,” Jin accused, stabbing a finger into Tor’s chest. “You went down there knowing this was going to happen!” He swept an arm wide to encompass the pit and waterfall. “You led us down there knowing this was going to happen!” Another large section of the canal crashed to the bottom of the mine, adding emphasis to Jin’s furious chastising.
“Of course,” Tor agreed easily. “Why else waste time leading you down there?”
The increasing flow of the waterfall triggered a landslide that tumbled the lowest cage into the pit. The scout who’d asked what Tor was laughing at punched him hard in the stomach.
“Ow,” Tor whined, doubled over around her fist but still wheezing out a chuckle after.
The horn of the advance infantry echoed in the pit and the first of the troops came into view, interrupting anything else that the rest of the scouts might do after learning that Tor had lured them into the river’s path.
“Stones and mortar,” Jin cursed quietly as he gripped Tor’s arm just above the elbow. “Let’s go,” he said out loud. The scouts formed into a circle around the pair and, as one, began jogging along the road that followed the top of the pit. Tor trotted beside his friend at the pace that Jin set. They passed through the advance infantry and over the bridge that now had a lovely view of the growing waterfall and emptying canal.
The main body of the army wasn’t far, and all of it was compressed into a marching line where more than the back half was already fighting the coming storm. Tor knew there were two thousand fighters: two hundred advance infantry, five hundred infantry, five hundred cavalry, six hundred pikers, one hundred engineers, and one hundred (approximately) of commanders, administrators, scouts, and the general’s honor guard. And now one prisoner, he added himself to the count. In the few remaining hours of weak winter daylight, the army would arrive at – and set their camp comfortably within and around – the town that serviced the mine.
At least, it had serviced the mine… Tor grinned at the thought that the town would be superfluous (or a nice lakefront, mountain holiday destination for the wealthy) by the end of a week. Too bad the town was above the mine and any new course of the river wouldn’t wipe it out.
He wondered if he would be camping with the army… or left in the pit.
They slogged through the snow to stand at the side of the road when the honor guard came into view. Tor didn’t bother with the effort of standing to attention or stiffly saluting. It wasn’t like he was a scout anymore. The general stopped his horse in front of Tor and Jin and acknowledged the respectfully saluting scouts.
Tor spread his hands wide and bowed gracefully. “Lord General,” he called above the din of clanking armor and hurried footsteps.
“What are you laughing at, deserter?” one of the scouts he didn’t recognize the voice of spit the question. Must be new, Tor thought. He only shook his head, keeping his thoughts to himself. Jin slapped his friend on the back of the head.
“Ouch,” Tor stated as he straightened up, his tone exaggeratingly hurt.
“You knew someone was going to blow the canal,” Jin accused, stabbing a finger into Tor’s chest. “You went down there knowing this was going to happen!” He swept an arm wide to encompass the pit and waterfall. “You led us down there knowing this was going to happen!” Another large section of the canal crashed to the bottom of the mine, adding emphasis to Jin’s furious chastising.
“Of course,” Tor agreed easily. “Why else waste time leading you down there?”
The increasing flow of the waterfall triggered a landslide that tumbled the lowest cage into the pit. The scout who’d asked what Tor was laughing at punched him hard in the stomach.
“Ow,” Tor whined, doubled over around her fist but still wheezing out a chuckle after.
The horn of the advance infantry echoed in the pit and the first of the troops came into view, interrupting anything else that the rest of the scouts might do after learning that Tor had lured them into the river’s path.
“Stones and mortar,” Jin cursed quietly as he gripped Tor’s arm just above the elbow. “Let’s go,” he said out loud. The scouts formed into a circle around the pair and, as one, began jogging along the road that followed the top of the pit. Tor trotted beside his friend at the pace that Jin set. They passed through the advance infantry and over the bridge that now had a lovely view of the growing waterfall and emptying canal.
The main body of the army wasn’t far, and all of it was compressed into a marching line where more than the back half was already fighting the coming storm. Tor knew there were two thousand fighters: two hundred advance infantry, five hundred infantry, five hundred cavalry, six hundred pikers, one hundred engineers, and one hundred (approximately) of commanders, administrators, scouts, and the general’s honor guard. And now one prisoner, he added himself to the count. In the few remaining hours of weak winter daylight, the army would arrive at – and set their camp comfortably within and around – the town that serviced the mine.
At least, it had serviced the mine… Tor grinned at the thought that the town would be superfluous (or a nice lakefront, mountain holiday destination for the wealthy) by the end of a week. Too bad the town was above the mine and any new course of the river wouldn’t wipe it out.
He wondered if he would be camping with the army… or left in the pit.
They slogged through the snow to stand at the side of the road when the honor guard came into view. Tor didn’t bother with the effort of standing to attention or stiffly saluting. It wasn’t like he was a scout anymore. The general stopped his horse in front of Tor and Jin and acknowledged the respectfully saluting scouts.
Tor spread his hands wide and bowed gracefully. “Lord General,” he called above the din of clanking armor and hurried footsteps.
GENERAL DISCONTENT
Jin did what Tor expected and punched Tor hard in the stomach for the mocking disrespect. Tor was still coughing and trying to remember how to breathe when he was pulled vertical by his hair. The scout who’d pulled him upright let go quickly so that she could take up the ongoing salute. The general glared back and forth along the entire line of scouts.
“Where are the others?” the general asked quietly. He stopped his assessment of the entire line and stared at Jin. “You said there were three,” he reminded the scout commander.
Tor grinned widely and chuckled as he felt Jin stiffen beside him. As he’d hoped, the anger and confusion from first luring them into the path of the river, and then the rush to get out of the pit, had distracted the rest of the scouts from remembering he hadn’t initially been alone.
“We don’t have them,” Jin haltingly admitted. The general stared hard at the scout commander for a moment, and then frowned further.
“That’s of less concern,” the general stated, shifting his frown to Tor. Tor stared back at his uncle. He was expecting, at the least, that he would be gutted now. “Put him in chains and bring him.” The general surprised everyone with the clipped command and then rode away.
“Huh.” Tor stared after his uncle, shocked that he was still breathing. A few of the scouts in the immediate area hissed and mumbled insults about nepotism, but Jin ordered them silent and sent the closest ones to get the ordered chains.
“Looks like you have until the storm clears before you’re executed publicly,” Jin muttered.
“Wouldn’t want anyone at the back of the ranks to miss it, I suppose,” Tor agreed. He looked over his shoulder at the nearby trees when Jin’s grip on his arm loosened, then shook his head to the negative before grinning at his friend. “I’m tired, I’m cold, and I’m hungry,” Tor whispered with a shrug.
“You don’t have to –”
“Yes. I do,” Tor interrupted. “Tam’s life depends on me staying right here.” Jin sighed and his grip tightened again.
“I found the surviving transport guards and asked some questions.” Jin kept his voice low. “You know you handed her over to a pirate?”
“That explains why he could swim so well,” Tor replied, matching his friend’s serious tone.
Jin scoffed. “He’ll probably sell her to the next –”
“No he won’t,” Tor assured his ex-commander and closest friend since childhood.
“You can’t really believe she’s safe with him,” Jin argued.
Tor smiled, the past few weeks running through his mind in a flash. “You weren’t with him on the road,” Tor whispered, echoing what Tam said when their nameless companion had refused to go in the cabin and thereby saved them from being killed in their sleep, plus any other number of things to protect and help them all get this far. “You can always go after them if you’re that concerned about her.”
“And leave you here to speak on your own behalf and get killed?” Jin sighed heavily and shook his head to the negative.
“I think that’s inevitable at this point.”
“Only if I let you do any talking,” Jin said. They waited together in the snow for the chains and shackles to arrive.
Jin did what Tor expected and punched Tor hard in the stomach for the mocking disrespect. Tor was still coughing and trying to remember how to breathe when he was pulled vertical by his hair. The scout who’d pulled him upright let go quickly so that she could take up the ongoing salute. The general glared back and forth along the entire line of scouts.
“Where are the others?” the general asked quietly. He stopped his assessment of the entire line and stared at Jin. “You said there were three,” he reminded the scout commander.
Tor grinned widely and chuckled as he felt Jin stiffen beside him. As he’d hoped, the anger and confusion from first luring them into the path of the river, and then the rush to get out of the pit, had distracted the rest of the scouts from remembering he hadn’t initially been alone.
“We don’t have them,” Jin haltingly admitted. The general stared hard at the scout commander for a moment, and then frowned further.
“That’s of less concern,” the general stated, shifting his frown to Tor. Tor stared back at his uncle. He was expecting, at the least, that he would be gutted now. “Put him in chains and bring him.” The general surprised everyone with the clipped command and then rode away.
“Huh.” Tor stared after his uncle, shocked that he was still breathing. A few of the scouts in the immediate area hissed and mumbled insults about nepotism, but Jin ordered them silent and sent the closest ones to get the ordered chains.
“Looks like you have until the storm clears before you’re executed publicly,” Jin muttered.
“Wouldn’t want anyone at the back of the ranks to miss it, I suppose,” Tor agreed. He looked over his shoulder at the nearby trees when Jin’s grip on his arm loosened, then shook his head to the negative before grinning at his friend. “I’m tired, I’m cold, and I’m hungry,” Tor whispered with a shrug.
“You don’t have to –”
“Yes. I do,” Tor interrupted. “Tam’s life depends on me staying right here.” Jin sighed and his grip tightened again.
“I found the surviving transport guards and asked some questions.” Jin kept his voice low. “You know you handed her over to a pirate?”
“That explains why he could swim so well,” Tor replied, matching his friend’s serious tone.
Jin scoffed. “He’ll probably sell her to the next –”
“No he won’t,” Tor assured his ex-commander and closest friend since childhood.
“You can’t really believe she’s safe with him,” Jin argued.
Tor smiled, the past few weeks running through his mind in a flash. “You weren’t with him on the road,” Tor whispered, echoing what Tam said when their nameless companion had refused to go in the cabin and thereby saved them from being killed in their sleep, plus any other number of things to protect and help them all get this far. “You can always go after them if you’re that concerned about her.”
“And leave you here to speak on your own behalf and get killed?” Jin sighed heavily and shook his head to the negative.
“I think that’s inevitable at this point.”
“Only if I let you do any talking,” Jin said. They waited together in the snow for the chains and shackles to arrive.
*****
Justin grinned at the result of John’s ingenuity. The storm winds had gotten them far below the snow line before night had fully descended on the valley. They stopped when one of the skis tore off from underneath, lucky that the seasonal coldness provided a temporarily unoccupied barn for shelter while the worst of the storm blew over. The supplies John pulled together from the useful things he’d found scattered in and around the barn had borne a thing which Justin considered a beauty. The best part was that John’s idea had only taken a day to build and they were ready to go while there were still good winds which – down here – carried only heavy rain.
“You’ve both got chalk for brains if you think I’m getting on that.” Tam eyed the innovation critically.
“Structurally, it’s stronger than the sled.” Justin shook the frame and smiled wider. Technically it was the sled, but stripped down to the frame, reinforced, and set on wheeled axles. The platform where they could sit or stand was made of a few solid planks, the rest was open frame and netted storage holes.
“The only thing that might be faster on land is an engine train,” John added.
“But only if we don’t have a good wind,” Justin noted as he started tossing their packs and newly stolen spare parts and tools into the storage nets.
“No,” Tam stated, crossing her arms at her chest. “I am not getting on that thing.”
“We’ve only got one day’s lead once the snow clears on the mountain,” Justin reminded her. “And that’s assuming none of the scouts have come further down the slope during the bad weather.”
“It’s raining,” she argued.
“I could use a shower,” Justin replied, tying the nets closed.
“You could use three,” John muttered at Justin as he started removing the impromptu blockade they’d made in front of the barn’s door. Justin picked up the pull lines and was pleasantly surprised at how easily the contraption started rolling along behind him.
“Which is still one less than you need,” Justin countered, making John nod in agreement.
“I could also use a bath. With heated water.” John paused, fantasizing for a moment.
“I don’t see why we can’t just keep jogging like we were doing before,” Tam insisted, not wavering from the original topic of conversation. Justin sighed and paused in front of her.
“Please don’t make me tie you to the mast like some Leshnatti Cautionary Tale’s abducted child,” he stated quietly.
“I’ll gut you if you try,” she countered.
“My agreement was to get you safely out of Opat, and ensure you remain safe,” he reminded her.
“Only if I show you the way,” she argued.
“I have roads for direction, towns for supplies, and a boat that sails on land. Once the rain stops I’ll have stars,” he said. “I can easily find the coast as long as I’m not captured.”
She sighed and her hard façade slipped a fraction. Her glance shifted around his arm and settled on the window that faced back up the mountain.
“I just …” her voice trailed off. The first gust of wind from the open door puffed up the dust inside the barn.
“He’s not coming. We have to go,” Justin stated quietly. Tam turned her eyes up to search his face, and then nodded and looked away. She climbed onto the platform and clicked the tie ratchets to hold herself in place.
“You’ve both got chalk for brains if you think I’m getting on that.” Tam eyed the innovation critically.
“Structurally, it’s stronger than the sled.” Justin shook the frame and smiled wider. Technically it was the sled, but stripped down to the frame, reinforced, and set on wheeled axles. The platform where they could sit or stand was made of a few solid planks, the rest was open frame and netted storage holes.
“The only thing that might be faster on land is an engine train,” John added.
“But only if we don’t have a good wind,” Justin noted as he started tossing their packs and newly stolen spare parts and tools into the storage nets.
“No,” Tam stated, crossing her arms at her chest. “I am not getting on that thing.”
“We’ve only got one day’s lead once the snow clears on the mountain,” Justin reminded her. “And that’s assuming none of the scouts have come further down the slope during the bad weather.”
“It’s raining,” she argued.
“I could use a shower,” Justin replied, tying the nets closed.
“You could use three,” John muttered at Justin as he started removing the impromptu blockade they’d made in front of the barn’s door. Justin picked up the pull lines and was pleasantly surprised at how easily the contraption started rolling along behind him.
“Which is still one less than you need,” Justin countered, making John nod in agreement.
“I could also use a bath. With heated water.” John paused, fantasizing for a moment.
“I don’t see why we can’t just keep jogging like we were doing before,” Tam insisted, not wavering from the original topic of conversation. Justin sighed and paused in front of her.
“Please don’t make me tie you to the mast like some Leshnatti Cautionary Tale’s abducted child,” he stated quietly.
“I’ll gut you if you try,” she countered.
“My agreement was to get you safely out of Opat, and ensure you remain safe,” he reminded her.
“Only if I show you the way,” she argued.
“I have roads for direction, towns for supplies, and a boat that sails on land. Once the rain stops I’ll have stars,” he said. “I can easily find the coast as long as I’m not captured.”
She sighed and her hard façade slipped a fraction. Her glance shifted around his arm and settled on the window that faced back up the mountain.
“I just …” her voice trailed off. The first gust of wind from the open door puffed up the dust inside the barn.
“He’s not coming. We have to go,” Justin stated quietly. Tam turned her eyes up to search his face, and then nodded and looked away. She climbed onto the platform and clicked the tie ratchets to hold herself in place.
PASSAGE
They couldn’t see up the mountain when they looked, it was still snowing too hard, but the sky was lighter than it had been yesterday morning. It looked like this storm was going to blow itself out before the end of the day. Justin and John loaded the final supplies and spare parts, and then the trio set off with the wind driving them forward. By nightfall their land-travelling boat was splashing through ruts and puddles back in the middle of the storm. The people they passed called out to them and laughed at the strange, wind-driven cart.
At the end of a week from leaving the barn, they stood at the top of a ridge of cliffs and looked down at the harbor town Tam had brought them to. Justin scanned from the dock to the horizon for familiar sails and saw one Opattan navy ship in the distance, two ships with Korballi-owned company sails at the dock, four ships with the white sails marking them as independent merchants dotting the town’s bay, and the distinct red triangles on white of a couple of Montrade-owned ships. Both Montrade ships were anchored on the northern side of the bay and had skiffs running between them – likely exchanging news, mail, or updated orders. One of the Montrade ships was obviously arriving due to how high it was sitting in the water, and the other was obviously leaving for the opposite reason. Justin wanted to avoid his family’s ships, if possible. He wasn’t currently in appropriate dress – and knew he wasn’t previously travelling under appropriate sails – for dealing with any of those Captains who might recognize him.
He estimated his mother and uncle were still a week up the coast, nearer the city where Justin and the other crewmen had been captured. A week would be too long to wait, he reasoned after having learned first hand the quickness of mountain scouts when catching up to whoever they were hunting. Tam and John were certain nobody from the mine could have followed them at the same pace they were running away, but Justin believed that destroying the mine was a likely cause for retribution and didn’t want to be the only strangers in town when the news arrived.
“Well?” John asked, impatient to get moving again now that it appeared they really would be leaving Opat sooner instead of later.
“We’ll have to tear down the sail-cart,” Justin stated. “We look too rough to have been travelling in what could be viewed as comfort.”
Tam sighed in relief and clicked open the ratchets of the harness holding her in place. She was on the ground before the harness straps had finished their first swing after being dropped. Justin followed her down, chuckling at how eager she was to get rid of their contraption. Tam repacked all the supplies and weapons for carrying while John and Justin tore down and saved anything useful or that they could sell. John paused a moment with his hand on the crowbar. It was the last thing they could take for trading, if they brought it.
His lack of movement caused both Justin and Tam to look up at their newest companion from where they were finishing tying up the packs. “We can bring it,” Justin offered quietly.
John shook his head to the negative. “With us as strangers, looking like this and carrying a mining tool is asking to get arrested once news of what happened reaches the coast.” He climbed down and shoved the empty frame, crowbar still attached, over the cliff.
Tam led them on foot into the town, quickly selling things to people she knew from trading rugs in previous years and gaining clothes for herself and enough chips in exchange to rent a room for a few hours along with baths at the only steam lodge in town. She washed and dressed quickly and then disappeared while Justin and John were still cleaning up, returning after having sold almost everything to purchase food for the next few days and clothing for John and Justin that wasn’t so obviously different. Justin gratefully got rid of the coat the mine’s guard commander had given him, pausing as he was buttoning the new one when he noticed Tam staring at him from where she was sitting on the bed. She’d already dressed in new clothes before delivering the things she’d gotten for them.
“What?” he asked looking down at his clothes and hands for what was so out of place it had caught her eye.
Her gaze shot to where her hands were knotted in her lap, and then she shrugged at some internal thought and looked up to meet his stare. “I wasn’t expecting you to be handsome once you shaved,” she stated.
“Oh,” he replied, the unexpected compliment catching him off guard to the extent that he fumbled the following two attempts at forcing the next button through its hole. She laughed at him, the same way she’d laughed with Tor, and he cracked a grin before attempting to try a third time.
“That’s it?” John asked, coming out from behind the screen without a shirt to look through the rest of Tam had bought for them to wear. “All of those daring escapes from guards and bandits, camping with wolves, nearly drowning, and scouts after you the whole time… but all it takes to fluster you up to the point you can’t finish buttoning your coat is some pretty girl who says you’re handsome?”
“You think I’m pretty?” Tam’s eyelids fluttered up at John as he pulled on a new shirt.
“As the first spring blossom,” he confirmed, tucking in the shirt. Justin left them to their constant banter and finished buttoning his new coat. “Where are you off to, Kony?” John asked as Justin reached for the door.
“To the dock to get us jobs. The next sailing will be with the tide in a couple hours. I saw three ships we could likely find work on in exchange for passage,” Justin replied. “You weren’t expecting we’d buy passenger tickets, were you?” He grinned over his shoulder as he opened the door.
“What would we do for work on a ship?” Tam asked, suddenly worried. Justin paused in closing the door after himself.
“I’m a bosun, John’s a swab,” he stated casually.
“I can do more than clean a deck,” John argued.
“No, you really can’t,” Justin answered.
“Ouch, Kony,” John said. He pulled on his new vest while talking. “That hurt right here.” He pointed at his elbow.
“What can I do, though?” Tam asked. Her voice was still worried.
“You sew, you weave, you cook, and you fight.” Justin grinned at her. “Every crew needs people who can mend sails and nets, and people who can cook. Those people also being able to fight is a valuable bonus. I can find us work either today or tomorrow, but from the look of those three ships we can easily plan leave Opat in the next few hours.”
“And then what?” John asked.
Justin considered that his mother was on her way, but shied away from thinking about what would happen after whatever ship he and his friends were on was intercepted. “And then we’re safely out of Opat,” he said.
“And safely together,” John assured Tam, dropping an arm over her shoulders in a half-hug.
“All right,” she agreed, smiling in relief at both of them. “Go find us jobs, Kony.”
They couldn’t see up the mountain when they looked, it was still snowing too hard, but the sky was lighter than it had been yesterday morning. It looked like this storm was going to blow itself out before the end of the day. Justin and John loaded the final supplies and spare parts, and then the trio set off with the wind driving them forward. By nightfall their land-travelling boat was splashing through ruts and puddles back in the middle of the storm. The people they passed called out to them and laughed at the strange, wind-driven cart.
At the end of a week from leaving the barn, they stood at the top of a ridge of cliffs and looked down at the harbor town Tam had brought them to. Justin scanned from the dock to the horizon for familiar sails and saw one Opattan navy ship in the distance, two ships with Korballi-owned company sails at the dock, four ships with the white sails marking them as independent merchants dotting the town’s bay, and the distinct red triangles on white of a couple of Montrade-owned ships. Both Montrade ships were anchored on the northern side of the bay and had skiffs running between them – likely exchanging news, mail, or updated orders. One of the Montrade ships was obviously arriving due to how high it was sitting in the water, and the other was obviously leaving for the opposite reason. Justin wanted to avoid his family’s ships, if possible. He wasn’t currently in appropriate dress – and knew he wasn’t previously travelling under appropriate sails – for dealing with any of those Captains who might recognize him.
He estimated his mother and uncle were still a week up the coast, nearer the city where Justin and the other crewmen had been captured. A week would be too long to wait, he reasoned after having learned first hand the quickness of mountain scouts when catching up to whoever they were hunting. Tam and John were certain nobody from the mine could have followed them at the same pace they were running away, but Justin believed that destroying the mine was a likely cause for retribution and didn’t want to be the only strangers in town when the news arrived.
“Well?” John asked, impatient to get moving again now that it appeared they really would be leaving Opat sooner instead of later.
“We’ll have to tear down the sail-cart,” Justin stated. “We look too rough to have been travelling in what could be viewed as comfort.”
Tam sighed in relief and clicked open the ratchets of the harness holding her in place. She was on the ground before the harness straps had finished their first swing after being dropped. Justin followed her down, chuckling at how eager she was to get rid of their contraption. Tam repacked all the supplies and weapons for carrying while John and Justin tore down and saved anything useful or that they could sell. John paused a moment with his hand on the crowbar. It was the last thing they could take for trading, if they brought it.
His lack of movement caused both Justin and Tam to look up at their newest companion from where they were finishing tying up the packs. “We can bring it,” Justin offered quietly.
John shook his head to the negative. “With us as strangers, looking like this and carrying a mining tool is asking to get arrested once news of what happened reaches the coast.” He climbed down and shoved the empty frame, crowbar still attached, over the cliff.
Tam led them on foot into the town, quickly selling things to people she knew from trading rugs in previous years and gaining clothes for herself and enough chips in exchange to rent a room for a few hours along with baths at the only steam lodge in town. She washed and dressed quickly and then disappeared while Justin and John were still cleaning up, returning after having sold almost everything to purchase food for the next few days and clothing for John and Justin that wasn’t so obviously different. Justin gratefully got rid of the coat the mine’s guard commander had given him, pausing as he was buttoning the new one when he noticed Tam staring at him from where she was sitting on the bed. She’d already dressed in new clothes before delivering the things she’d gotten for them.
“What?” he asked looking down at his clothes and hands for what was so out of place it had caught her eye.
Her gaze shot to where her hands were knotted in her lap, and then she shrugged at some internal thought and looked up to meet his stare. “I wasn’t expecting you to be handsome once you shaved,” she stated.
“Oh,” he replied, the unexpected compliment catching him off guard to the extent that he fumbled the following two attempts at forcing the next button through its hole. She laughed at him, the same way she’d laughed with Tor, and he cracked a grin before attempting to try a third time.
“That’s it?” John asked, coming out from behind the screen without a shirt to look through the rest of Tam had bought for them to wear. “All of those daring escapes from guards and bandits, camping with wolves, nearly drowning, and scouts after you the whole time… but all it takes to fluster you up to the point you can’t finish buttoning your coat is some pretty girl who says you’re handsome?”
“You think I’m pretty?” Tam’s eyelids fluttered up at John as he pulled on a new shirt.
“As the first spring blossom,” he confirmed, tucking in the shirt. Justin left them to their constant banter and finished buttoning his new coat. “Where are you off to, Kony?” John asked as Justin reached for the door.
“To the dock to get us jobs. The next sailing will be with the tide in a couple hours. I saw three ships we could likely find work on in exchange for passage,” Justin replied. “You weren’t expecting we’d buy passenger tickets, were you?” He grinned over his shoulder as he opened the door.
“What would we do for work on a ship?” Tam asked, suddenly worried. Justin paused in closing the door after himself.
“I’m a bosun, John’s a swab,” he stated casually.
“I can do more than clean a deck,” John argued.
“No, you really can’t,” Justin answered.
“Ouch, Kony,” John said. He pulled on his new vest while talking. “That hurt right here.” He pointed at his elbow.
“What can I do, though?” Tam asked. Her voice was still worried.
“You sew, you weave, you cook, and you fight.” Justin grinned at her. “Every crew needs people who can mend sails and nets, and people who can cook. Those people also being able to fight is a valuable bonus. I can find us work either today or tomorrow, but from the look of those three ships we can easily plan leave Opat in the next few hours.”
“And then what?” John asked.
Justin considered that his mother was on her way, but shied away from thinking about what would happen after whatever ship he and his friends were on was intercepted. “And then we’re safely out of Opat,” he said.
“And safely together,” John assured Tam, dropping an arm over her shoulders in a half-hug.
“All right,” she agreed, smiling in relief at both of them. “Go find us jobs, Kony.”
