When the Storm Awakens
By David J Schipp
Copyright 2007-2012 by David J Schipp
Smashwords Edition


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Making the final journey to The Stairs, to the old, rusted tower, Daniel hopes to end the line of the Watchers. Why were they coming there anyway? 
Now, with his father dead, it was finally over – or so he thought... 
Someone is stirring, deep underground and lost to memory and time. This was what the Watchers were meant to do: to wait for the ancient ones to emerge. 
Now Daniel must face them alone…

Part 1: Rebirth

Chapter One

It was water that woke him, falling from high above and landing onto his face. He had been dreaming, he was sure, and already that dream was beginning to fade, so much that now it was a dim memory. Another droplet fell, this time waking him further and now he became aware of his condition, that various parts of his body were screaming at him, that pain was assailing him from several quarters.
He was on his side, his right side, on the hard, cold ground. His right arm was twisted and was caught under his body. This was the first source of pain. He knew precisely what the problem was without looking. He felt it where his arm connected to his body. There was nothing below it. His arm was dead to him.
There was a sharp, stabbing pain just above his right eye, but he ignored it, resisting the temptation to probe the area with shaking fingers. He tried instead to roll onto his back and off his arm. He failed, and managed only to roll back - experiencing again the pain of the joint as it ground into places it was not meant to be. He inhaled deeply in preparation for another attempt. His face was hard against the ground and he took into his mouth, his throat, the dust and dirt that had been stirred up from his feeble movements.
He coughed raucously, gasping for every breath between the hacking spasms of his throat and he was forced to try again, to get his face out of the dust so he could breathe. In one movement he launched himself over, rolling onto his back and drawing in air free of particles.
He laid there for some time with his eyes closed, feeling his right arm slowly coming to life. As it did, the nerves that were once deprived exacted their revenge. Every movement of his hand and arm was like being stabbed a million times with minute needles.
He had been squeezing his eyes shut against the agony and now as it passed, he relaxed them, allowing them to gradually open. He was expecting the ceiling of his bedroom but instead there was almost complete darkness, nothing to show where he was or how he got there. This world was silent as well.
No, that was not quite true. Somewhere in the darkness there was a faint drop of water onto the ground and a gentle hum of machinery.
He turned his head, looking about for anything that would tell him of his predicament. There was a wall at his feet, only a step away and it reached high up, five, maybe six times his height. All over its surface it glittered with tiny, twinkling red lights, crimson stars. Also he could see something else: long with square edges, jutting out from the wall, hanging over him ominously. This was the origin of the drops of water that woke him.
I’ve got to get up, he thought hazily. I can’t stay here, lying on my back. 
With his left hand on the ground next to him for support and his right tucked into his belly, he pushed himself up to a sitting position, shaking off the sudden dizziness from the change in posture. From here he could see all around. The wall of lights rose up in front of him, extending off in both directions, fading off into the darkness. He slid himself along the ground until he made contact with the cold concrete wall and pulled himself up onto his feet, wobbling dangerously against it for several minutes. 
Leaning on the wall for support, he lifted a hand up to the pain on his head and felt the ragged cut above his eye. It had long ceased bleeding and now it was hard and crusty, and he suspected that blood was all though his hair. He found his greying locks missing however, when he raised his hand higher to feel for the blood matted in them. His head was shaved almost to the skin, and sticky with his blood. Pushing the sweat that was starting to form on his scalp over the back of his head, he swallowed back down the fear that was rising fast from his belly.
No. Stay calm. You can’t afford to panic.
He shuffled along the wall, two steps to the overhanging object he had seen earlier, ignoring the tiny lights. It jutted out perilously at head height and hung two paces out. It was not tall and he was able to look up and over the edge into the cavity it contained. It was packed with a soft material making a bed of sorts. And it was moist.
He had come from the bed, rolled over and out, falling onto the hard floor and landing on his right side. Now he knew how he got on the floor, but how did he get in the bed?
Ducking under it he staggered his way out to the other side, following the wall, using his left hand as a guide as he went; his right hanging down oddly.
Then he saw some vague movement off to his right. There it was, a black shape, standing tall for just a moment, then moving away into the gloom. He blinked. Did he see it or was it his imagination?
He left his support - stumbling off into the open space with his left arm swinging wildly into the void, following the apparition. In front of his eyes, shapes darted in and out, trying to distract him. Still he kept on, ten, twenty steps until he reached the other side - a featureless far wall - panting and sweating with pain and fear.
Then he heard a sound, a scraping of feet to his left, moving away from him quickly. His fear had finally won, and any control that he possessed minutes earlier was gone. He called out in desperation, “Stop… please.”
When a human voice came back to him out of the dark, swearing with surprise, he almost cried. All he managed was a hoarse plea, barely audible: “Help me.”
He stood in silence for a long moment. Whoever it was, they were still and quiet. Perhaps they were as terrified as he was.
“I’m hurt. I need some help,” he added and there came no reply, and for a moment he thought that he was still alone and that his imagination had indeed been toying with him. He cried out in desperation again, “For God’s sake! Say something!”
His invisible quarry heard the urgency in his voice and spoke. The voice that returned wavered with poorly contained terror. It said: “Hello?”
A face appeared out of the blackness, a young man’s face. He looked like he was barely out of school and his eyes were as wide a dinner plates. The jagged cut above his eye and the sight of the dark and dried blood must have been what compelled the young man to ask, “What happened to you?”
“I’m hurt. I need your help… please.”
The young man kept his distance, still unsure. He decided he had to be more direct: “It’s my arm… you have to put it back in...”
“I don’t know…” The waver in his voice got more pronounced.
“All you have to do is just pull it, that’s all,” he begged. “You can do that.”
Slowly he slid down the wall; the effort of stumbling across from the other side of the room had sapped him of any energy he had. The other man went to catch him, but drew back and let him slide. He let out a grunt of pain when he reached the ground, then whispered: “If you don’t, I’m dead.”
His right hand connected with the ground with a metallic click. He heard it, but the significance of it did not register. He sat there, resigned to his fate. His head snapped up when the young man grabbed his hand and started to roughly pull.
“Wait!” he exclaimed.  He needed to explain the procedure before any damage was done but the young man seemed preoccupied with something he had felt at the wrist of the arm he was grasping.  
“You’ve got a band like mine!” The stranger sounded surprised.
He looked down. There at the end of his arm hung a cold, grey, metal band - loose enough to fall down to the hand but not enough to come off completely. He didn’t care. “Your foot… put your foot in my armpit…” he gasped. The mere act of holding his wrist was agony enough, but it was nothing like what he was about to experience.
The adjustments were made and before the young man took the strain against his wrist again, he thought it best to warn his rescuer, “One more thing: this hurts a lot. I mean a lot. When you do it, I’m going to yell and swear and call you all sorts of things but don’t pay any attention. Just keep pulling. Even if I pass out, just keep pulling.”
“How will I know when it’s back in?”
“You’ll know, believe me.” He breathed in, steeling himself. “I’m ready.”
They counted together and the stranger pulled hard, pushing with his foot into the armpit. He did all the things he said he would, including passing out, and when he woke, the job was done. He smiled weakly. “Thanks man. You saved my life, you really did.”
They sat in silence for what seemed like several minutes. Perhaps neither of them knew just what to say. Then he remembered he didn’t even know the young man’s name. “I’m Jim by the way,” he said, smiling in the near darkness, trying to appear as affable as he could. “I’d shake your hand but…”
The young man returned his smile and put a friendly hand on Jim’s shoulder. “I’m Lewis.”
Another period of time passed then Lewis coughed nervously. “Jim, where are we?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” Jim replied absently. While they were sitting there he had been thinking. Now he had made up his mind. Staying here was tantamount to death. Neither of them would survive staying put. They needed to get moving, needed to find a way out of that place, to find assistance, to find water. 
“Help me up,” Jim ordered, holding out his left arm so that he could be pulled to the standing position.
“What are we doing?” Lewis’s voice was as nervous as before.
“We’re going to find out where we are and work out how to get out of here. Pull me up.”
Lewis grasped Jim’s good arm and when he was back on his feet they both leaned back against the wall. The younger man’s voice seemed stronger now they were showing some decisiveness. “What now?”
“You’ve been wandering about, yeah? You tell me.”
“There’s a gap in the wall down here a bit. I was heading there when you spoke to me.” Then he chuckled to himself. “I thought you were going to eat me!”
“What?”
“I must have been walking around here for hours. I saw this thing crawling around in the dark. I couldn’t make it out. It started to chase me; then it… I thought you were coming to get me. It was like some horror movie or a nightmare.”
Jim exhaled deeply. “It sure is just like a bad dream, I’ll agree with that.” He kept walking, his bad arm dragging along the featureless wall on his right. “How long have you been here, do you think?” he asked a few minutes later.
“The first thing I remember is walking into a wall. I must have been delirious. I hit this wall and then I found myself here. I think I’d been walking about for the last couple of hours or so. What about you?”
Jim rubbed his shaven head. “The same, I think. I woke up on the ground and that was about the time you saw me.”
“I think something bad happened to us. Look at us.” Lewis stopped and grabbed the back of Jim’s shirt, forcing Jim to turn around and face him. “Someone did this to us. They shaved our heads and they put us in these…”
Lewis grasped the front of his shirt and shook it. Once white, the dirty, thin material resembled hospital clothing and offered very little in terms of warmth or dignity. Jim was dressed likewise but hadn’t cared what he was wearing up to that point. Both men were dirty and barefoot. Jim was covered in hard, dried blood.
Jim turned away from him, continuing along the wall. “We’d better keep going,” he said.
From behind, the questions still came. “Why can’t I remember how I got here? Someone brought us here. Why?”
Jim smiled, but Lewis could not see his face. “I’ll be sure to ask them when I see them.” The wall fell away to the right into an open space. “Here it is,” he announced. 
Along the wall, at about ankle height, small lights illuminated the floor at regular intervals. While not bright, they cast enough light so that they could negotiate the corridor with more confidence than in the hall from which they had come. “There’s some light here,” Jim noted, moving from the wall and walking toward the centre, looking left and right for anything that might be of help or interest. The left wall was a sheet of frosted glass and the right opened into a room or another corridor. Jim stopped and squinted down the hallway. The roof dipped down some distance away, and he could see signs of pipes hanging from the roof. He left the end of the passage for later, directing his attention to where the right hand wall had turned into a yawning gap, dark and ominous.
“What is it?” Lewis whispered.
“It looks like a room.” Jim went up to the space and looked in. It was darker than the hall and Jim’s eyes strained to see within the gloom. “There’s a bed in there, I think. No, wait - three beds.”
He was right. There were three beds and he walked carefully up to one of them. They probably had been made up with crisp linen sheets at one time, the white material still present on the bed, turning to powder as Jim ran his hand over its surface. The matrass did not disintegrate. It was covered in a tough plastic film. The foam within was hard. The other beds were identical. They were metal - cold and functional. “This is a hospital,” he pronounced.
“What?”
“These are hospital beds. This is a medical bay or something.” Jim grabbed his shirt like Lewis had done. “We’re dressed like we’re patients.”
“This isn’t like any hospital I’ve ever seen.”
Jim was busy rummaging through all the cupboards and drawers but he didn’t find anything useful until he reached the last one. He frowned and pulled out a sheet wrapped perfectly in plastic, preserved against decay. A pair of scissors from a metal trolley had the bag open and the sheet spread over one of the beds. He repeated the process for one of the others then Jim climbed onto the nearest bed and sighed. “That’s a lot better than the floor.”
Lewis was watching from the doorway, “What are you doing?”
“I need to shut my eyes for a bit,” Jim told him.
And he did.

Jim waited for his new friend to awaken. After having gotten some fitful sleep himself, he awoke to find Lewis still deep in slumber. Alone again, he mulled over their predicament. In the end, he came to one conclusion.
Lewis’s eyes flickered opened slowly. He sat up and stretched looking about. Disappointment rose in his face when he discovered what he had hoped was a ‘dream’ hadn’t ended. 
Jim’s face showed a grim determination. “We can’t leave,” he told Lewis. “Not yet, anyway.” He swung his legs out over the side of the bed, allowing his bare feet to touch the floor.
“What? Why?”
“There could be more of us out there. Wandering about, or hurt. We can’t leave them.”
Lewis understood, he bowed his head and nodded.
Jim stood. “First, we need to find water.” They were both thirsty. He had ignored it at first, thinking only of his pain and then rescue. Now the first was receding slowly and there seemed no visible hope of the second. A more elemental need came to the fore. They would be dead soon without water and this place were as dry as dust.
Jim was going back to the corridor, his steps purposeful. “I saw pipes on the roof down the way – some things work down here, maybe one of those pipes has water flowing through it.” He was out of the room and heading right with Lewis steps behind.
They continued down until it came to an intersection. Standing there in the middle, both men looked down all of them, perplexed.
“All these passages look the same,” Jim muttered.
“Where are the pipes?”
Jim pointed upwards and smiled. Above them, travelling through the intersection and disappearing down the side corridors, there was a mass of rusted pipes hanging from the roof. They were silent. Maybe nothing ran through them anymore, but it was their best chance.
Lewis looked down each corridor in turn, scratching his shaven head. “Which way do we go?” he asked.
“I don’t really think it matters.” He shrugged, and then pointed to the left. They followed the pipes to the end of the passage until they stopped above a door, old and rusty, and slightly open. At the obstruction, Jim placed both hands against the door, lowered his head until his forehead rested onto the door and closed his eyes with frustration.
“I guess we try the other way,” Lewis sighed with resignation.
Jim took a hand away and held it out, gesturing Lewis to silence. “Do you hear that?”
There was a faint sound, behind the door. Jim put his ear to the gap and listened. “I can hear water running. Listen…”
Lewis agreed after hearing it himself and they set about trying to open the barrier. It was designed to slide but was reluctant to move. It budged marginally on the first pull, again a second time, and with a sickening grind, slid open enough to admit the thinner of the two. Lewis squeezed through the gap and into the inky blackness beyond.
Jim squinted into the space and the darkness. “What can you see?”
“I can’t see anything. It’s pitch black in here. Shhh… Let me listen.”
He waited for what seemed like hours for Lewis to confirm or deny. Then the young man’s face appeared through the gap. “I think one of the pipes is leaking but I can’t see where it is. If we can get this door right open…”
With effort they completed the task. There was just enough light admitted to the section behind to find the clear liquid running in a thin line down from a pipe above. It splashed down into a puddle and disappeared into a drain moments after hitting the concrete floor.
Jim held out his shaking hand and allowed some of it to pool in his palm. He desperately brought it up to his lips, noisily slurping the collection into his mouth. Lewis raised both eyebrows expectantly as Jim swallowed and then gave his assessment: “It’s okay. A bit rusty, but drinkable I think.”
“That’s good enough for me.” Lewis placed both hands under the flow and slowly filled his makeshift cup, taking the handful down into his stomach after first wetting his lips and mouth. They continued until they had enough to quench the dryness in their throats.

His eyes were becoming gradually accustomed to the darkness and now he imagined himself being able to see quite well. Now, without the immediate pressure to survive, they observed more of the place where they had awoken. They were walking slowly and deliberately, moving first to the wall of lights.
“Is this what I think it is?” Lewis asked him, pointing to the wall.
“Looks like it.” Jim leant down and gazed at one of the control panels, his face bathed in an intermittent red light.
“I thought that these things only existed in movies.”
“This looks quite real to me.”
“Can you press…” he said eagerly, pushing Jim aside, his finger extended out to make contact with one of the controls.
Jim grasped his hand before he played with anything he shouldn’t.
“I don’t think we should touch anything yet.” A light, formed in the shape of a padlock, was blinking assertively and Jim pointed to its presence. “The controls are locked anyway.” 
Lewis frowned, looking along the wall. “How many of us are there here, do you think?”
Jim scratched his chin and the beginnings of stubble. “There’s got to be hundreds at least, maybe even thousands.” He pointed ahead, to the curved wall of red lights, each indicating a bed and a body. The total of them seemed too immense to count. “I wouldn’t be able to begin to guess how many.”
They walked for about ten minutes and as they did, the wall of lights curved gently to the right. Up ahead, another bed jutted from the wall, perhaps a hundred steps away and something was lying underneath it.
Being barefoot, they were reluctant to run over the floor, although it was even and free of debris. Even so they arrived at the bed in a matter of moments. It was empty, and they directed their attention to what was directly beneath it.
There, in a twisted heap, lay a body. It was old, decayed and skeletal, mummified from the dry, oppressive atmosphere. Bones become white if bleached by the sun, but this collection of old bones had never been kissed by sunlight. They were green-grey and macabre. Hidden in places by the remnants of clothing such as Jim and Lewis wore, falling to pieces with age. Looped around one of its wrists was a dull, grey metallic band.
Jim knelt down to examine the remains, leaving Lewis standing some steps away, the waver in his voice returning as before. “What happened to it?” he whispered, perhaps he feared to wake the dead. 
“He must have died of thirst or hunger - both, probably. It looks like he didn’t get very far from his bed.”
“It’s very old.”
“Yeah…” Jim agreed. “It’s been here a while.” He looked back to his new friend, concern in his eyes. “He’s one of us.”
Lewis leant over Jim’s shoulder, noticing the metal band. “He’s got a bracelet too!”
Jim was already rolling it around to examine it. 
“It’s not quite like ours. There’s a number stamped on it. Mine has too and so does yours.”
Jim could sense Lewis looking at his own wrist, reading the numbers. “They’ve numbered us.”
Jim nodded and stood, looking at the front panel attached to the bed.  “Just what I thought,” he said almost to himself. “This is his bed. The number on the bed matches the one on his band.” He sighed, looking down at the body. “We’d better keep going.”
They kept on for perhaps another ten minutes or so and found two beds which were very near each other and another two bodies. They had died at about the same time, and had found each other in the near darkness, clinging to each other as they clung to life, hoping for help to come. It never did. They were the same as the other one back down the hall, perhaps they had been there longer, but it was hard to say. Wordlessly they kept on with their search. Each discovery lowered their spirits, bringing them closer to the realisation that they might never escape this dark, dusty hell.
Jim turned, walking to the inside wall where there was a corridor like the one they had been in before. The lights were off and it was dark down there. He pronounced the obvious, “Another hall.”
“Where does it go, do you think?”
“I think this whole place is like a circle. This…” he waved back and forth at the hall of lights, “…is the outside, the wheel. The passages are the spokes if you like. I think if we could actually see down there, we’d find almost exactly the same things as we found earlier in the other place – the beds, pipes.”
Moving to the side of the dark passage, Jim slid down the wall and buried his head in his hands.  “We’re going in circles. This is one big, round tomb.”
Lewis didn’t join him. “What?” he exclaimed, “You’re giving up?”
Jim kept his head down. “These poor people didn’t make it, and I don’t think we will either. Let’s face facts, Lewis. We’re screwed.”
“I don’t believe it! Come on, get up! We’ve got to keep going!”
“It’s hopeless,” Jim declared from between his hands.
Lewis was not about to give into despair and die. He grabbed the older man and hauled him to his feet. “I’ll drag you out of this place if I have to.”
Jim sighed, and pulled himself out of the young man’s grip. 
“Alright,” he said dejectedly. “Let’s keep looking then. Lead the way.”
They were back in the main hall again, with Lewis at the lead, and walking over to the wall of lights. He started to follow the wall to the right again, his hand running absently over the panels that adorned it. Periodically, one of the controls was selected, but nothing happened. The steady red padlock kept each bed firmly in place and its occupant blissfully unaware.
Another body appeared. This one had not been there as long as the others, perhaps a year at most. Its skin was stretched like thin paper over its bones. Lewis could not look at the sight, but Jim stopped again.
“This poor soul fell. You can see his neck’s broken.” The body’s head was almost at right angles, and the limbs were a twisted heap. Jim looked up towards the roof to where one of the beds was hanging out, high above and shook his head.
Lewis was already on his way. Jim had to jog a few steps to keep up. They continued for several minutes along the rim of the wheel.
“We must be almost back to where we started, surely,” Jim remarked. He ran his tongue over his dry lips. “I need another drink.”
Lewis saw them first. Another set of bodies huddled together up against the inside wall, away from any open beds. There were two of them. As the men approached it was clear that they had been deposited there recently and that they were a woman and a man, his arm was wrapped protectively around her.
“These two aren’t long dead,” Jim commented, pushing past Lewis, who stood staring at them several paces away. Skin and bones was one thing, bodies that looked like real people were another. Jim knelt down by the man, dark skinned and as bald as the two of them, and took his wrist. “He’s still warm!” he exclaimed excitedly.
Startled, Jim turned to the woman, whose eyes were open and staring. Then she slowly and deliberately blinked.

Chapter Two

She had long succumbed to the darkness, letting it wash over her. The will to survive having left, she had finally given up. At her side, the man she had found in her wanderings lay in a similar predicament, but he had ceased talking hours ago. 
First he had urged her to hang on. “Help is coming…,” he assured her, “…don’t let go”. Now he no longer offered such words of encouragement, falling into silence, succumbing to the frailty of his condition. Once again she was alone.
She had been walking though the dim light, trying to make sense of her surroundings when she nearly tripped over him, hobbling out of a side passage. They had scared each other out of their wits. It took several minutes for either of them to settle down and talk. It took even longer for them to trust one another and longer still before they were content to die side by side.
As she lay there on her side, facing the tall, dark man who called himself Sammy, she listened to his breathing and waited for it to stop. Then it would only be a matter of time before hers would too. If only they had found help.
Then out of the dark, she heard a voice. Not a loud voice, not someone yelling, just a normal conversation. It’s only a hallucination, she thought. It’s not real. She started to chuckle to herself, the start of a mad laugh.
When she heard the voice again, it was almost on top of her. A man’s voice: “He’s still warm!” She had fought her eyes open and stared at someone kneeling next to her, holding Sammy’s arm. The man turned his face towards her and jumped backwards, yelling with surprise: “Bloody hell! They’re alive!”
Emily kept her gaze on him. She was still unable to speak. Her lips were dry and cracked. Her throat was parched and beyond ability to vocalise. Their saviour was not daunted. He seemed to be waving frantically and a younger man’s face came into view.
“Are you sure?” the other one said.
“Yes, I’m sure. They need water. We need to get them to the pipe.”
“How are we going to do that?”
“Carry them.”
“You’re kidding? He’s got to weigh…”
The first one interrupted him, “That doesn’t matter. You take the girl, and I’ll take him.”
“Carry him with your shoulder? One at a time is better. We’ll take the girl first.”
Emily felt his hands grasp her arms and pull her upright. She was weak from dehydration, but she managed to get her legs under her and walk to some degree with their help. She found it impossible to keep her head up. It hung and lolled about as they walked her. All she could see was the floor passing dimly below her and her rescuers’ bare feet padding along on either side.
Minutes later they dumped her unceremoniously onto a mattress, a much softer arrangement than the floor, and left her. It was darker than where she was earlier, darker than the hall where she had collapsed. She closed her eyes and rested, waiting for either salvation or death.
She must have slept, for it seemed only moments later they returned, grunting and struggling, carrying something into the room and over to her side. They heaved something heavy onto another bed and she could hear the sound of the frame taking the strain.
“We’re not going to be able to get them to the water. We’ll have to carry it here.” She heard one of them saying as they moved around the room. “Look for something to carry it in - a bottle or a cup or something,”	
The men were panting, and she knew they had carried Sammy there also - not an easy task. He was a heavy man. Now she could hear them rummaging through cupboards and drawers.
“What about this…?” The younger of the two had found something, “It’s a kind of dish.”
“Perfect.”
“There’s a couple - one each.”
They were gone again for only a short time, and when they returned, one of them came to her side. He put his hand gently under her head and lifted it. Then she felt plastic against her lips.
“It’s water,” he was saying. “It doesn’t taste the best, but it’ll do. Drink it.”
She let the liquid enter her mouth, savouring the wetness of it and then swallowed painfully. A second mouthful went down easier, but the third caused her to cough. He persisted, managing to get a reasonable amount of fluid into her. When he let her down, she felt a little better.


She slept fitfully, having been interrupted several times by either one of them forcing water down her throat. She assumed that they were doing the same for her friend in the bed next to her, and the treatment seemed to be bringing both of them back from the brink of death.
“How are they doing?” The younger man was standing over her, looking down at her with concern on his face.
“Better I think. We’ve got to keep going though. We’ve got to get more water into them.”
“There’s no more of them out there?”
“No,” the older one said, “I don’t think so. There’s only the four of us.”
Emily tried to speak. All she could get out was a whisper. The one leaning over her must have noticed her lips moving.
“What was that?” he asked and he came in closer so that he could her repeat herself.
He turned to look at her full in the face, smiling, “You’re welcome,” he replied.

She woke again with a start and with the sudden need to take flight. She sat upright and swung her legs over the side, but her head began to swim. Over against one of the walls, one of the men who had helped her was resting. His back was against the wall and his head was down between his knees. At the sound of her movement – the bed was rattling madly – he raised his head then made his way over to her slowly.
Placing a restraining hand on her shoulder, he forced her down again. “Take it easy, you’re not up to getting out of bed yet,” he said quietly, smiling at her reassuringly. “You’re safe here. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“How’s Sammy?” she croaked.
“Your friend’s getting better, though I think he was a little worse off than you. Do you want more water?”
She shook her head. She needed answers, not water and so she asked him, “Where am I?”
His eyes wandered about the room, “This place? I have absolutely no idea, but I can tell you this, we’re in some hospital, or medical facility. It’s deserted except for us.” He frowned. “Where we are doesn’t really matter, how we’re going to get out is much more important. When we’ve got you up on your feet – and I mean really up – then we’ll get on to that.” He smiled again. “My name’s Jim by the way. Lewis is the other guy with me.”
She cleared her throat to speak again. “Emily. I’m Emily.”

Over the next few hours she was almost back on her feet, having taken the remainder of her recovery upon herself. She took the water the two men gave her and drank it when she needed it.
On the other bed Sammy showed great progress, although he was still behind her. While she was sitting on the edge of the bed, Sammy remained flat on his back, although he was talking and even smiling at her worried expression.
“I told you someone would come,” he reminded her. “I told you that it wasn’t in our future to die in this place.”
“Yes, you said that. Now all we have to do is get out of here.”
He smiled again. “A way will present itself, I’m sure of that.”
She slid out of bed, letting her feet hit the floor and she wobbled there for a few seconds.
“Where are you going?” He looked genuinely concerned about being left behind.
“I’ll be back in a second.” She went slowly into the corridor, leaning against the wall periodically as she went. She followed the voices of men, down the passage to the left. They were standing in the centre of an intersection, both leaning against opposite walls with their arms folded.
“I know what you’re saying,” Jim said, “and I do¬ agree with you, but I don’t see what we can do about it.”
Lewis did not want to back down. “I still think we should try.”
“Neither of us knows what to do. There’s a real possibility that we could kill whoever is in there, and that’s something I don’t want on my conscience. The other thing is: let’s say we succeed, what are we going to feed them? There’s nothing for us to eat here. Tomorrow that’s going to start being a problem for us, and I’d rather not add to it.”
“I still don’t think it’s right to leave them.”
“Yes, of course you’re right, but we don’t have a choice.” Then he saw her approaching and he changed the subject, calling to her as she arrived, “Hey Emily, you’re up?” 
That’s obvious, she thought. 
“How are you feeling?” 
“Better,” she replied. “I’m on my feet and that’s got to be something.” She leant on the wall and adopted their posture, asking them about their progress: “Have you guys found a way out yet?”
“Not yet, but we will.” Jim looked back to Lewis, and then made eye contact with her again. 
They’re keeping something from me. Her eyes darted back and forth between them. “What were you two talking about?”
Lewis jumped in: “There’s hundreds, maybe thousands of us down here, and they’re all asleep, like we were. Now we’re awake, but they’re still stuck there. Jim wants to leave them.”
“That’s not completely true, Lewis,” Jim replied. “I said: Leave them for now. I said we have to look to our own survival first. Then we can deal with all those others. They’re not going anywhere,” he explained, “…but we definitely should be. We’ve got a real chance to get out of here.” Jim was smiling, his white teeth glowing under the lights illuminated from below.
She hadn’t had the chance to look at either of them until now; she’d been too sick and flat on her back. There was little lighting in the room where she had been recovering, but there was enough light in this place.
What struck her first was the similarity of their appearance, and she knew this was nothing of their doing. Both of them stood at about the same height. They were both bald, having had their heads shaven almost to the scalp. They were unshaven and this added to the overall dismal appearance of both of them. They were dirty. Their clothes, faces and arms were streaked in dust and dirt. Both were barefoot, and their feet were even dirtier than the rest of them. Lewis appeared unhurt. Jim however, had a large and angry cut over his right eye that needed stitches. It had bled at some stage, and his face, head and shirt bore the brown stains of dried blood. The illumination from below only added to the frightfulness of their appearance. Deep shadows played on their faces as they talked, like they were telling scary stories by torchlight. As she looked them up and down, the likelihood that she looked equally as bad to them was very high.
“…if we don’t take it…” Jim continued, “…then we’d be a bunch of fools.”
Emily nodded. “But we’re still not any closer to finding a way out of here. As soon as Sammy is up and about – and that will be soon I think – then we should be on our way. So which way is that?”
“We’ll find an exit, don’t worry,” Jim tried to reassure her.
She was eager to get the job done, and hated standing about waiting for the men to do it. Nothing was going to happen at this rate. “You don’t mind if I look, do you?”
Jim raised his eyebrows then looked to his friend. “No - not at all - go ahead. But I don’t think any of us should be wandering around alone.”
“I’ll go with her,” Lewis offered.
“Well, I’m going back to see Sammy.” Jim pulled himself off the wall and smiled to the other two. “Don’t stay out too late, kids.”

***

Sammy was asleep when Jim returned. He lowered himself onto the other bed and closed his eyes. I’ll just rest up a bit, until the kids get back.
When his eyes snapped open, it was as dark as before. With a groan he swung his legs over the side and faced the other bed where Sammy was in a similar position, sitting on the edge of his bed and watching him. The other man took up the small metal bowl full of the rusty liquid and brought it to his lips, taking a drink. Although the room was essentially dark, there was enough light from the hallway to reflect on the bowl. Jim could see it glitter as Sammy lifted it, and could hear him gulping the contents eagerly.
“Take it easy with that - not too much, too fast,” Jim cautioned.
Sammy wiped his mouth. “You’re James?”
Jim nodded. “Jim. Call me Jim. Have the other two been back yet?”
“No,” he smiled. “It’s just you and me.”
“I have no idea how long they’ve been. I hope they’re not lost.”
Sammy pulled himself onto his feet and groaned as he stretched. “We could go look for them. I’m sure they’re not far and Emily seems sensible enough not to wander about in the dark. Oh…” He grunted when he became upright, grasping his belly. “Is there a bathroom here somewhere?”
Jim joined him. The bigger man was trying to walk and wavered a little, Jim was at his side quickly to offer support, which Sammy accepted wordlessly. “Lewis found it over the way,” and he pointed with his free hand across the hall, into the area behind the frosted glass. They crossed the hall with Sammy limping, favouring his left knee. “There’s no water in there so…” Jim warned him.
“I’ll manage.”
Jim waited for him, leaning against the glass in the corridor. He caught a good look at his new companion while they were out in the hall. Taller than Jim, and definitely broader, Sammy had an imposing frame. He was not overweight, just large boned and to some degree muscular. He was dark skinned, probably originating from India or Pakistan, but his accent spoke of him being in this country all his life. Like the others he was dressed in thin clothing and he was barefoot, bald and dirty. They were an odd group.
Sammy was still indisposed when Jim heard the sound of shuffling feet and excited voices from down the corridor. He could see their legs first, caught in the small lights walking hurriedly down towards him.
“We’ve found it!” Emily clapped her hands together and grinned. Lewis was smiling behind her.
Jim didn’t need them to elaborate. Nodding enthusiastically, he gestured into the room beside him. “Sammy’s up.”
“We’ve found something else too.” Lewis reached out and put a hand on Jim’s shoulder. “We need to show you.”
He waited for Sammy to return and then followed the two young people back to the things they had found. Further down past the intersection they entered a large room full of furniture – tables, chairs and beds not unlike those in the medical bay.
She had taken with her one of the bowls filled almost to the top with water. Walking to one of the walls, she dipped her dirty hand in, wiping her wet fingers over a section of the wall, not plain concrete but a metal panel screwed there. It was a sign.
She washed the grime that had accumulated enough to show something of the design beneath, explaining: “It’s pretty worn, but you can still read it… sort of.”
Jim squinted at the markings that had been revealed. “It’s a map.”
“Yes. And I might point out this part of it.” Her finger was extended out and touching the plate, wiping off some of the muck, there were red letters underneath. “You can just read ‘exit’.”
He nodded. Yes, there was the exit. Straight down the hall, if he read it right. “Can you lead us out with this map, Emily?”
She nodded and smiled, and he responded likewise. “What was the other thing?” he asked.
Lewis waved over through the room, beckoning them to follow him. “It’s this way.”
He led them through and out to the other side. “There are offices down here, but we found something else. There’s a storeroom.”
Jim had been looking at the computer systems that were sitting dormant on some of the desks. He tried one.
“They don’t work,” Emily stated blandly, following Lewis into another hallway lit along the bottom of one wall as all the others. A line of doorways greeted them, all open and all dark inside.
“Here…” Lewis went in to one of them and waited for the others to follow him. Jim was right behind. Then he stopped, letting his eyes adjust slightly to the decreased amount of light. The others followed him and did the same, and after a short time they could just make out the shapes of shelves sticking out in rows from the back wall.
Lewis knew what he was after and went there immediately, retrieving an object and tossing it recklessly toward the others. Jim heard it hit the ground in front of him and roll to his feet.
He bent down and retrieved it from the floor. It was a clear plastic bottle containing a colourless liquid.
He went back to the hallway, trying to read the label by the floor lights. “We can’t drink this,” he declared.
“We weren’t thinking of actually drinking them,” she exclaimed. Emily had followed him out expectantly. “We thought we could use them to cart water. You said we need to carry some.”
“We’d have to wash them out well.”
She nodded. She knew.
“Good job. Is there anything else of use in there?”
“No, just what we’ve shown you.”
“Okay. Now,” he exhaled noisily. “I think it’s time we got out of this place. What do you all think?”
They agreed. Sammy, who was only just back on his feet, insisted they were not to delay on his account. He would keep up, he promised.
“There are how many bottles in there?” Jim asked. Lewis told him. “They’ll have to be emptied out, washed and filled.”
“We’ll do that.” Emily indicated Lewis would help her. “How are we going to carry them?”
“Leave that to me.” Jim rubbed his chin. “Let’s get this done as quick as we can, then get going.”
“One last thing,” Emily began, looking at the ragged laceration above Jim’s eye. “Will you do me a favour?”
Jim narrowed his eyes.
“Let me fix up that cut, it doesn’t look good at all.”

There was a sense of urgency among them. All of them were starting to get extremely hungry and the lack of food was adding to their lethargy. The passage of time had become indefinable, and only the need to rest separated any period from another. Now that they were ready to leave, sleep seemed the last thing on their minds.
Emily had cleaned Jim’s wound with the original contents of one of the bottles, as it turned out to be useful for that sort of task. With a bandaid in place, he looked more civilised. That being the last task to perform, they all gathered at the intersection with their supplies and prepared to leave. 
Jim had taken four sheets and tied them each together at their corners forming four identical sacks. After loading each with an equal quantity of the bottled water he handed them to his friends.	
Emily set out, leading them at Jim’s direction. She had studied the sign, what she could read of it, and headed in the direction it had indicated as ‘exit’. The corridor stretched out ahead of them, lit by the same lights they had become accustomed to. They headed down it, hopefully to their salvation.
Passing the open area that Emily and Lewis had shown them earlier, they continued on down until the right hand wall reappeared making it a corridor again. Further along, they came to another intersection. 
This crossroad was different than the others, it was sign posted. The plaques were higher up and free of most of the dust and grime that had obscured the exit sign Emily had found. To the left was the ‘Dormitory’ and the right housed the ‘Servery’.
“We should check that out,” Jim suggested, pointing to the right. “Lewis…?”
Lewis seemed reluctant to go, and Sammy noticed it. “I’ll go with him.” Sammy declared, relinquished his load and placing it gently on the ground.
“Shouldn’t we stick together?” Emily asked, looking down the passage to the exit expectantly.
Jim put his hand on Lewis’s burden, wanting to take it from him. “They’ll be alright. We’ll stay here as a point of reference. Call out if you get into trouble – or if you find something.”
“I haven’t agreed to go yet.” Lewis remained hesitant. He still wasn’t sure about the big man travelling with him. He seemed much more comfortable with Emily.
“You’ll be fine. Sammy will be with you,” Emily reassured him.
 The two of them departed down the right passage, around the corner and out of sight, leaving Jim and Emily at the centre of the junction. Jim pulled his burden off over his shoulder and placed it down on the ground next to Sammy’s load. Then he joined them both on the floor, sighing deeply.
“I asked you before if you knew where we were…” Emily began hesitantly.
“Yes.”
“Do you have any more thoughts on that?”
He looked up and around at his surroundings. “This is a hospital, I think. We have to be in the basement - it’s got that subterranean feel about it.”
She agreed with a nod. “Where are the doctors and the nurses?”
“Upstairs, I hope,” he said, but his voice lacked conviction. “…but somehow I doubt it. This place is deserted and has been for a long time - you can tell by the state of everything. What’s bothering me is that but all of the equipment looks like it should have come from our time. That leads me to think that we’ve been asleep down here for…” he thought for a moment, “God knows how long.”
“By why put us here in the first place?”
“This looks like some big storage facility - they’ve stored us. Something happened to our world, some disaster of such magnitude I can only imagine. So they froze us, and stored us here.”
“I didn’t know they could do that.”
Jim rubbed the back of his head, “I didn’t think so either, but here we are. Really the only people who could use this sort of technology and keep it secret is the military – and I’m not talking about our military either.”
She joined him on the floor. “I thought I was dead. Then you came along.” She smiled, “You’re my angel. You saved my life.”
Jim chuckled and pointed to his dirty and wounded face. “Do I look like an angel?”
“Close enough for me.” Her smile faded to a frown. “How did we get here? I don’t remember anything about this place.”
“None of us do. The last thing I can remember was talking to my family over breakfast, and then…” he shook his head, “…blank.”
“Why me - I’m just a student?”
“What are you studying?”
“Linguistics”
“Ah, like ‘enry ‘iggins,” he chucked to himself. She looked at him blankly and he felt the need to elaborate. “You know, from Bernard Shaw: The Pygmalion.”
“I know it.”
Jim understood. “You probably get that a lot.”
She stared at him evenly. “Not us much as you’d think. Most people know the musical. It’s not much help down here, though. What do you do?”
“Lots of things,” he replied with a smile. 
“Well, I’m glad you’re here - and Sammy and Lewis too.”
“I’d save the thanks ‘till we get out of here. You know…” he shifted his position on the floor, “Something is bothering me about this whole thing.”
“Just one thing is bothering you?” 
“Okay, so there are a lot of strange things going on. But listen… here we are - we’re the same people as yesterday – or at least the last time we can remember – but this place… This place has been here a long time. Presumably so have we, and we’ve been forgotten. It’s like someone decided to just turn out the lights and closed the door.” He thought for a moment. “The people that put us here are long gone. They’ve been dead for centuries maybe, judging by the state of this place.”
“Well, someone’s keeping all the machines going, to keep the power down here.”
He nodded. “Yeah - and where are they? If we get out, then we’re going to see a whole different world than the one we remember, a whole different world. The one we knew has long gone.”
Her eyes opened wide, a realisation coming to her suddenly. “What about our families, our friends,” she gasped, tears beginning to well in her eyes, “have we left them behind as well?”
Jim came over to her, wrapping a comforting arm around her. “There’s no reason for any of us to be here, at least none that I can think of. Maybe someone in your family was important, special enough to be down here protected from some calamity, and they took their family with them. Your people could be somewhere here, lying asleep, waiting for you to wake them up.”
She looked back down the hall to the where she imagined the wall of lights, now invisible in the distance.
Jim placed a hand on her shoulder, “I know what you’re thinking, but you’d better get it right out of your mind. There’s nothing you can do for them, you don’t know which bed they’re in and you don’t know how to wake them. Lewis tried to turn off one of the beds – I told him not to, but… they’re locked, they won’t budge. If we should succeed and we start bringing people out - then what do you think will happen? None of us will survive. There’s no food down here.”
“But…”
“Later,” he said, trying his best to look sympathetic, “We’ll come back and work it out. We’ll get them all out, and we’ll do it properly. They’re fine where they are, they’re not going anywhere.”
She must have seen the flaw in his argument: “We’re out, so they could come out too.”
“That was a breakdown, an error, a power surge, or something. It was a freak accident that we’re here. I’m positive it won’t happen again.” He took another tack: “This is our chance to do something really special, really heroic. We can save all these people, but only if we do this right. Anyway,” he rubbed his empty belly, “We’ve run out of time here. If we don’t find food soon, we’ll be no good to anyone. I, for one, am getting quite hungry.”
She smiled weakly, “I suppose you’re right.”
“Let’s just get out of here and go and see what kind of world we’ve woken up to. It maybe that we are in a basement somewhere, and as soon as we go up a floor or two there’ll be people ready to help us.”
There was something stirring at the back of his mind, fighting to the front, struggling to push past those things that had held his attention for so long. Only vague images found their way to the front of his mind, fleeting glances that once seen, were snatched away again as if carried away by the wind. His frustration mounted, and with it he found himself screwing up his face, trying to enhance his concentration, but it was to no avail. None of the images congealed into a coherent picture, and he was left with the feeling that what he had to remember was extremely important.
She had seen his expression and hers took on one of concern. “Are you okay? You look…” She rested her hand on his shoulder and he relaxed.
“Yeah - sorry….” He shook his head to try and clear it. He needed to clear it. “It’s nothing. I’ve a bit of headache from - you know - before.” He put his dirty, shaking fingers up to the dressing Emily had taped there earlier. “I’ll be alright.”
“Where are they?” She craned her neck up, trying to see down the dimly lit passage to the servery.
“I don’t think they’ll be long.” Jim was rubbing his eyes, his head was down and he was not searching for the others like Emily. “There could be thousands down here,” he muttered, “all on machines like we were. Ours failed. That shouldn’t have happened. There should have been someone here to keep them going. They all went away some time ago, I don’t know how long. Like I said, they just turned off the light and shut the door.”
He lifted his head and looked her right in the eye. “We’ve been literally forgotten. How do you forget thousands of people like that?”

Chapter Three

In contrast to the other areas they had seen, the servery was still in good order. There were tables and chairs laid out in orderly rows ready for use, seemingly untouched by time, if not for the thick layer of dust that covered everything like a shroud.
There was enough light to see here. The servery shared the same kind of illumination that existed in the corridors, and they were able to negotiate the room without difficulty. Sammy led the way, heading down toward a counter at the end. He leant over, trying to see the room behind it. The light did not carry there - it was as dark as the hospital room they had been in earlier. Dissatisfied, Sammy went through the swinging doors that were placed to the right of the counter.
It is difficult to avoid making noise when dealing with pots and pans, especially when visibility is poor. This was the case here. Sammy was making a racket as he searched though the contents of the cupboards.
“What are you looking for?” Lewis whispered.
Sammy didn’t look up, and he didn’t bother whispering back. “This is a kitchen. What do you think I’m looking for?” He’d given up on the cupboards and the stoves didn’t work, so he went around a corner to a large silver metal door. “I think this is the pantry.” None of the shelves were stocked.
Lewis grasped the handle to the silver door. “What about in here?”
“I think that’s the cool room. Leave it, there’s no power here anyway.”
Lewis ignored his advice and tried the door, and it slid open easily permitting him to see inside. It was as empty as the shelves. “It was worth a look I suppose,” he said looking disappointed.
There was nothing to see, so Sammy led him back to the intersection and the other two stood on their return.
“Any luck?” Jim asked, but his face showed he held no hope that they would find anything.
“There is a kitchen but it’s never been used.” Sammy said as he collected his satchel from the floor.
Nodding, Jim handed Lewis his sling. “We move on then,” He ordered and then motioned to Emily to proceed.

***

She pushed ahead, leading them down the corridor at a steady pace. They had been going for about ten minutes or so, when Emily brought them to a halt. Dead ahead there was a large object, indescribable in the current light.
Jim was right behind her. “What is it?”
“There’s something up there.”
He pushed past her, walking slowly up to what had brought her to a stop. He looked it over for a moment then waved her up.
It was a piece of machinery, old and damaged beyond repair. On closer inspection it was a cart of sorts – like a golf buggy – on its side and burnt out, its parts blackened and melted. But it was Jim’s other discovery that disturbed her more greatly. Against the side of the cart lay a body. It had been there for a long time, the skin had long since dissolved. Now only bones remained, wrapped in an old uniform. He was face down, and there were several large and ugly holes in the back of his jacket. The holes were rimmed in black as if they were burnt right through him.
Emily gasped with shock, but Lewis - who had arrived behind her - did not seem fazed at all. “Is that another one?” he asked, looking over her shoulder.
Jim didn’t look up. He was examining a small metal object he had collected from the floor. “Looks like it,” he replied absently.
“Another one…?” Sammy had joined them, his voice shaking. “There have been others?”
“Yes,” Jim sighed. “But not like this one.”
Emily had Lewis cornered, her eyes were wide with shock “What others?” she demanded.
Lewis was worried, not about his future but from this young woman who required answers. “I’ve seen four like this one back where we came from. There could have been more.”
Jim corrected him. “Not like this one, Lewis. This guy is a guard or a soldier.”
Sammy had pushed past, trying to get a better look, but Jim held out his hand in warning. “Watch your step. There are bullet casings all over the place.”
Emily looked at her feet. Metal pieces glittered all around her. “Bullets?” she asked.
“There’s been a fight here; a pretty fierce one at that. See the walls…” Jim was hovering over the body as he talked. “This guy’s been shot in the back several times. I think he’d been taking cover behind the cart while some people shot at him. They blew holes in the wall, and then torched the cart. He must have fought back though. I reckon these…” he held up the casing for them to see, “…must have been from him, but it wasn’t enough.”
He looked up, and Emily followed his gaze, down past the cart to where there were two doors, one of them off its hinges and the other still intact, but obviously damaged.
“They probably chased him through those doors. He had his last stand here.”
With Lewis’s help, they rolled the body over, and to Emily’s disgust, Jim was going through his pockets like a common thief. The process of relocating the corpse caused some of the bones to come apart. Emily brought her hand up to her mouth. “What are you doing?” she asked, gasping.
Jim kept working. He seemed oblivious to Emily’s feelings on the matter. “Maybe there are things we can use here.”
“Oh God, I can’t look!” She turned her back and started to cry softly.
“This uniform is remarkably intact despite the condition of the body. Maybe it’s the material.” 
Emily stood with her back to the proceedings while Jim stripped the body of all its usefulness. He kept the coat despite it being slightly small with burn holes in the back. It offered some warmth in contrast with the thin shirts they all wore. She could hear him asking the others if they would like the pants or the boots (Sammy was highly unlikely to fit either), but they declined. 
Jim became excited when the pockets gave up a knife and a lighter. She could hear it being shaken. There was no sound of liquid inside, but it burst into flame nonetheless when ignited.
In that dark place, the tiny light illuminated more than just that little corner. Emily saw the rapture of flame and turned and smiled when she saw it in Lewis’s hand and in that one moment it became a beacon of hope for them all.
“Look at this,” he said holding up a red shiny object into view. The flame from the lighter caught on the red metallic surfaces and reflected onto the walls. “It’s a band like ours, only red,” Jim commented, throwing the object to Sammy and continued on his grizzly task. 
When he was done, Jim rearranged the body as best he could. He stood over it for a second or two with his head bowed. “Thanks Keith.”
“Keith?” Sammy questioned Jim’s being on a first name basis with the skeleton at his feet. Jim pointed to the name stitched onto his new jacket front, and smiled.
His smile did not last however. There was something that needed to be said and Emily had stalked back some way from the burnt out cart. He had to call her back.
“I’ve got something to say...” he said, getting right to the point. She joined them, looking hostile. “There’s likely to be bodies just like Keith’s up ahead and I’m going to get whatever we need off them. I’m sorry if that’s a problem for some of you, but that’s how it is.”
He stooped, taking a bottle of water from his sling and took a long drink, and then after replacing it, he pulled his sack over his shoulder and prepared to leave. Emily was watching him closely, but she was no way intending to lead them on. She had something to say herself.
She looked at him angrily. “You weren’t going to tell us about those other bodies, were you?” Jim returned her gaze awkwardly. “So what did the others look like, if they didn’t look like Keith?” She already knew the answer. “They looked like us, didn’t they?”
He didn’t reply, but his expression told her the truth and she threw her hands up in dismay. “You lied to us!”
“No,” he explained, “I didn’t. At first I assumed you’d seen them for yourself but later when it was clear you hadn’t, I thought it best not to mention it. That’s all.”
“You didn’t tell me because you wanted my help to get out of here. That’s right, isn’t it? We weren’t the first to wake up here, and we won’t be the last. You’ve been pushing for us to leave, when we could be leaving others just like us. You don’t care about them, and you don’t care about us!”
“Do you really believe that? Do you believe that I’m just using you? I could have left you all down here. I could have tried to get out myself, but I stayed here because I think we all need each other.” 
He had looked slightly offended at first, but now his expression softened. “I don’t think waking up happens all that often down here. Sure the bodies looked like us, but they’re all really old. Lewis will tell you. They’re all like Keith here: just bones. So I think the likelihood of anyone else waking up until long after we’ve dead and gone is very small. Regardless, we already know the controls to the beds are locked. If you know of a way to change that, then let me know.”
He sighed, shaking his head slowly. “I’ve said it before, if we get distracted by worrying about those people down there, then we’ll not get out ourselves. If we don’t survive, then who’s going to get them out?” His expression hardened. “You think I don’t care? Maybe I don’t, but if it gets us out of here then so be it. I’m big enough to handle it.”
“Now,” he looked back to her with challenge in his eyes. “Are you taking the lead, or shall I?”

Emily did lead the small party, past the overturned and burnt out cart, through the damaged doors and down the corridor. As they moved on, the evidence of battle increased and the barefooted party gingerly negotiated the treacherous terrain. Then she came to another entrance, this time made of two sets of glass doors. The glass was thick and strong, obviously made for security, but had not faired very well in battle. One was cracked and the other had one large hole melted through it. There were small fragments everywhere, adding to the peril of their journey. Beyond those glass doors stood another two; identical in arrangement, half open and damaged as well. 
Before the first set of doors was a small alcove roughly the size of the cart they had seen earlier. Beside it, four sets of stairs led to an open doorway and another room. 
It was dark in there. Little light found its way from the hallway, but there was enough. Along the left side of the long and narrow room were a bench and a wall of glass looking out into an empty space. Along the bench were littered remains of computers and other such things, all showing advanced age and damaged beyond repair. Behind the bench on the right side, was a wall of screens – security monitors – and they all shared the same fate as the other equipment.
Emily squinted out the window for several minutes, and when she turned her expression was one of sadness. She headed back to the others, pulling Lewis (who had followed her with a notion of protecting her) in tow.
When she returned, Jim was sitting on the floor. He had disassembled his sling, ripping the sheet into strips and was wrapping them around his feet.
“Shoes?” she enquired, looking down at his work.
“They’ll do until I can find some boots.”
“There should be plenty to choose from through there.” She motioned toward the broken glass doors. “There has to be at least nine or ten bodies waiting for you.”
“You know when we were talking back there and I was wondering how we could have been left here and forgotten?”
She nodded.
“A war would do it, or certainly two groups fighting. One group gets wiped out – let’s say the ones who know we’re here – and we’re forgotten. They could have wiped out each other - it amounts to the same thing. The people who were supposed to watch over us are dead and anybody that had any chance of remembering us is long gone. We’re on our own. Encouraging isn’t it?” Jim stood awkwardly on his new footwear. “I’m going to have a look around.”

***

He walked carefully because he was not entirely sure his makeshift shoes would fully protect him. He slipped through the first set of doors, keeping to the side where there was less evidence of destruction. There was a body in the lock – like Keith – burnt and tangled. His uniform would be of no use but his boots would be more Jim’s size.
The area beyond was carpeted. It was dirty, old and rotten, and smelled of decay - but it was better than the concrete floor he was used to. There were several seats littered about in various states of damage - this was a waiting room, a foyer.
It was obvious there had been a battle here, a conflict where men like Keith had lost their lives. Their bodies were arranged as if they had stood together to the last and they were almost piled upon one another. Jim looked them over, they had suffered the same fate as Keith – large burn holes were present on their uniforms. 
Surely, one of these guys has my boot size?
Over at the far wall the foyer converged, walls on either side moving in together to form the back wall. There was no forward path. The corridor split in two, curving around in a graceful circular motion, probably joining again at each side.  He stood there for several minutes, looking both ways and thinking: Where’s the exit? I don’t see a sign.
The answer was never as obvious as when Lewis spoke, startling him. “Hey - an elevator…!”
Lewis was standing behind him. He had walked quietly over the carpet, unconsciously sneaking up on the older man. He’d made shoes like Jim had done and had gone looking for his new friend. Jim’s heart was beating fast - he hadn’t expected Lewis to appear silently out of the dark.
“I thought I told you…” Jim began.
“I know… I know…” Lewis was holding his hand out in supplication. “Sorry. Emily told me to go after you. She says no one should be going anywhere alone. You try and argue with her, see how far you get.”
Jim smiled. “No. She’s very determined.”
“Do these things work?” He pressed one of the buttons on a panel next to one of the large, dull, grey doors. Nothing happened in response to his request. No lights, no sound. He shrugged.
In between two of the lift doors (there were three in a line) there was a sign attached to the wall. It was large and framed, protected by glass, and it had met the same fate as all other glass objects in the vicinity. Its presence caught Jim’s eye. 
There was writing on the sign but there was not enough light to see. The air directly above Lewis’s right hand burst into flame and lit Jim’s view sign beautifully.
“I thought we might need it. You left it behind,” Lewis explained.
“Hold it up higher.” Jim grabbed his arm and pushed it up, illuminating the lettering hidden by dark and damaged glass. Lewis’s fingers became too hot to hold the fuel lever and he released it with a colourful remark and the writing vanished. It had been on long enough for Jim to see what he needed to see.
“I thought so,” Jim grunted sourly.
“What is it?”
“We’re underground. Twenty six floors down to be exact.”
“No way…!” Lewis fired up the lighter again to see for himself.
“The numbers go backwards. We’re here. Level Two-Six. Do you know what that means?”
Lewis let the flame vanish after he had confirmed what Jim had said with his own eyes. “What?”
“With the lifts not working, it’s the stairs - lots of stairs.”

Lewis had run ahead and pushed his way through the doors to the corridor and beyond where their friends had remained. Jim was several steps behind, still inside the security lock when Lewis announced their position: “We’re here!”
“Where are we exactly?” Sammy stood, starting to share some of Lewis’s excitement.
When Jim reached the hall Lewis was slapping the big man on the shoulder and explaining: “The way out - we’re here at the exit...” He looked a little mischievous. “...though it’s not going to be as easy as we’d hoped.”
Emily had been sitting against the wall, but now she was standing, wiping the streaks of tears from her grimy face, trying to hide a moment of sorrow. “What are you talking about?”
“There’s lifts, but they don’t work. Jim says it’s the stairs.”
“How many are we talking about?” 
Lewis looked over to Jim, “A lot of stairs you said - didn’t you Jim?”
Jim nodded grimly. “That’s what I said.”

When the other two discovered exactly how far below the ground they were, the enormity of the climb came into focus. They all agreed that a rest before such an undertaking would be wise.
“There’s something we need to talk about before we tackle the stairs,” Jim said, motioning for them all to sit in the corridor facing each other. “Something’s been bothering me for while now, and I think I’ve worked it through. 
He looked at them all slowly then proceeded. What he had to say would not come easily, he would find it difficult to find the right words, but he pressed on. “Every time we talk about getting out of here, I start to remember something. It’s hard to describe. No sooner do I concentrate on it and try to get it into focus, I lose it again. It’s weird. It only lasts for a split second, not enough for me to see what I know I need to see. Damn it!”
Jim rubbed his forehead, trying to describe what he was feeling. “But this is the impression I get from it all: Before Lewis and I saw the sign, I knew we were underground – I just knew it.
“I knew it too,” Emily interjected. “So what…? It’s a little obvious, don’t you think?”
“Sure, I agree. It is obvious. But that’s not what I meant. I didn’t know it because it was obvious; I knew it because I’ve seen the surface.”
“Do you remember being brought here, before we were put to sleep?” Sammy asked, leaning forward, intensely interested in what Jim was suggesting.
He shook his head. “No. It’s not like that. It’s hard to explain. It’s like I was shown something and it was very important that I remember it. It’s almost like it was a gift and that I had to change something because of it. That’s the way it feels, anyway. Thing is, I think I know why.”
Emily did not seem share Sammy’s enthusiasm. “And why’s that, Jim?”
“There’s nothing up there. It’s almost a desert. Even if we climb these stairs and get out somehow, there nothing and no-one out there - we might as well stay here and die, as go up there.”
Emily hadn’t understood him. “You had a dream, Jim. That’s all, a dream. We’ve all had them. I’ve had them. We shouldn’t give up hope just because you dreamt something up.” 
“Look at it this way,” he continued, “Dreams aside, there is still a problem. If we get to the top and find no food, then we’re screwed. If we try and find food down here first and find none, then we’re screwed. I don’t know what to do. We need to get up those steps, but after that…”
Sammy looked over to him, trying to squeeze some hope out of their predicament. “What about what you were saying before: that there could be help in the upper levels? What if there are doctors and nurses up on the top floors? What if this is a hospital, like you said?”
“I’ve given up on that idea. I don’t think there’s anyone else here but us.” Jim took a deep breath and launched into his summation. “Look, this is what I feel we should do – and this goes against all that my mind – and common sense -  is telling me. I feel we should look for food down here. I feel we’ve a better chance finding what we need in this place. Then, we should attempt the surface. I don’t know why, but I feel this is the way we should go.”
“And where would we find this food?” Sammy asked. “This is a big place. We could be looking for days before we find anything to eat – if there even is anything. What food would be around after all this time? Before I put my trust in you I’d like to know that you’ve got some sort of plan.”
Lewis nodded in agreement. Emily kept quiet, her gaze was unwavering.
“I know where to look. There’s a sign out there that tells us.” Jim looked over his shoulder and nodded, back to the broken glass doors and to the elevators.
“I didn’t see one.” Lewis looked confused.
“You didn’t look hard enough. We’re on level twenty six, right? Level three and four are called ‘stores’. That would be a good place to start.”
“That’s still a lot of space to look,” Emily remarked quietly.
“Granted, but it is a start. Maybe there’s nothing there. Maybe it’s deserted and busted up like this place – maybe not. I feel we’ve a better chance looking there then looking outside. If there’s nothing there, then we should keep going up to the top.”
Sammy closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. “I think that’s a reasonable plan. You haven’t let us down yet.” He looked to Lewis and nodded slightly for him to agree.
Lewis took the hint. “Yeah alright - you guys know I just go along with things anyway.” 
Jim looked to the only one who had not voted. “Emily?”
She ran her hand over her shaven head. “I don’t know… I’m tired and I’m hungry. I just want to go home.” Her head snapped up, her eyes blazing with anger, “I want my hair back, for heavens’ sake.” Her eyes softened and so did her voice. “Okay, we’ll do it your way. But if we find nothing, we go straight to the top.”
Jim nodded. They had agreement. “You guys should rest up a bit before we start the climb.” He stood.
“Where are you going?” Sammy asked.
“I have a job to do that you find… distasteful.”
Emily looked pained, “I don’t agree with you doing that.”
“I know,” he said, then took a swallow of water from his bottle. “You might see things differently when you’re not tiptoeing through glass.”
“I’m not wearing a dead man’s shoes.” She was adamant.
“Suit yourself. Get some rest, hey.” And he was gone, back through the door and into the foyer.

***

Someone was shaking her awake. She had been dreaming, and when her eyes opened – as with most dreams – the memory of it began to fade. Jim’s face was in front of her, dirty and unshaven. The dressing she had put over his wound was starting to come away and at the edge of the cut looked red and angry in the poor light around them.
She groaned. “Is it time already?”
He nodded. “I think we’ve all been asleep for hours.”
“How long is an hour? I’ve no idea. Are the others up?”
“Yep…”
She struggled to get her feet under her. “Okay,” she said, “I’m up. Give me room.”
She had been lying on her side on the concrete floor. Earlier she thought that it would be impossible to sleep under those conditions but she also found that after a short amount of time she was too tired to care. One of the beds she had slept on earlier would have been better but none of them agreed to go back where they had come from. They sacrificed comfort for the desire to move forward. 
On waking she was not as tired as before, hunger was still biting at her stomach but additionally she was now stiff and sore. Stretching helped a little, but the feeling that she had laid badly for too long lingered. She took a bottle from her pouch and satisfied her thirst noting she still had two bottles remaining. She was rationing as well as she was able. 
Turning to regard the one who had awoken her, she saw that he had made some improvements to his wardrobe. On his feet were leather boots, lace-less and brown; aged beyond any real use other than simply to cover the soles of his feet. “Nice boots,” she complimented him.
“What?” He hadn’t been paying attention. He was faced with the task of distributing his goods amongst the others. “Oh,” he said, looking down at his feet. “Yeah - they’re one size too big and the laces fell apart, but they’ll do for now. I’ve got some pants and a belt too.” He turned about to show her his new wardrobe.
She smiled blandly. “Good for you.”
She collected her things, and Jim regarded her carefully. “Are you going to be alright?” he asked.
“Yes,” she replied defensively, “why?”
“It’s just that before…”
“I’ll be fine.” She gave him a hard look. “It’s just that it’s all a bit much – all of a sudden. But don’t think for a minute that I’m going to fall apart. No,” she declared adamantly, “I’ll make it - don’t you worry.” 
Jim nodded, accepting her assurances, and then pointed to her bare feet. “Do you want me to carry you over the glass?”
“I’ll manage. Thanks.”
He nodded. “I’ll clear as much of it as I can for you.” And he did. He swept the debris away with his feet and returned with a look of marginal satisfaction.

While Jim and Lewis made use of the bathroom they had located at the end of the reception centre, Sammy remained with her. Despite having what she thought was several hours sleep, he looked no better, and in fact he looked a lot worse. She went to him, kneeling and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”
“I don’t think I can make it, Emily. I know I said I could but… I don’t know if I have the strength to climb all those stairs.”
She looked into his eyes, the determination written on her face. “We’re not leaving you behind, if that’s what you’re getting at. I’ll carry you to the top if I have to.”
He looked at her slight frame and laughed. “That would be something to see.”
“I’m serious,” and she was. “We will make it. I know it.”
 He returned her gaze and in that moment there was a brief look of recognition between them. She narrowed her eyes and asked him something that had been playing on her mind for some time: “Have you had any dreams, Sammy?”
“Yes of course. We all dream, Emily.”
“That’s not what I meant.” She shook her head. “Have you had any odd dreams?”
“Like what?” He seemed very interested in her answer, leaning forward to hear her every word even though there was no other sound to compete with her voice.
“You were in one of mine. You had something in your hand, a box, I think. It was a small, square, black thing. You were handing it to someone. He looked rich. He was all in purple. He was wearing rich purple robes. No, it was a fine jacket. He looked like a king. That’s right…” her eyes were wide open with the realisation, “…a king. The thing is…” she scratched the back of her head, “…I think that I dreamt it before I met you!”
Jim and Lewis had returned, their boots crunching over the debris, heralding their arrival. They collected their burdens and she led them through the doors to the foyer, treading carefully as she went. The bodies that she had seen earlier had been moved, Jim had obviously taken what he needed and disposed of the evidence when he was done. She suspected he wished to save her the sight. Jim motioned in the direction they should travel, down to the end of the room. There in front of them was a curved wall with three solid metal doors, just as Jim had described.
The elevators didn’t work. Despite that, she just had to check, pressing the button repeatedly several times.
Jim motioned to the right. “The stairs are over there.”
After the line of lifts there was a smaller door, some distance around the circular passage to the right. When they reached it the foyer had fallen away behind them and was now around a corner. 
The door’s purpose was clearly marked and there was a handle to open it. Emily took hold of it, expecting it to move, but it didn’t budge. “It’s locked,” she pronounced.
“It can’t be,” Sammy disagreed. “It’s a fire escape. They can’t lock it.” He tried too and reached a similar conclusion.  
Lewis was behind them, manipulating something on the opposite wall. Then he pushed his way through, carrying a fire extinguisher in both hands. “Stand back,” he warned and bashed the handle several times before any of them could object. On the third impact the handle gave and the door opened a little way under protest. Jim came in beside him and kicked it. With a resounding boom, the door gave way, echoing through the space behind it. 
Emily was first. She peeked around the corner of the door then entered carefully. She was standing on a platform, a place between flights of stairs going up and down. There was enough light to see, the same type of lighting that they had seen through the other areas was present here, for this she was grateful. It would be impossible to climb these steps in the dark.
There was an old rusty rail against a yawning gap and she went over to it. The centre of the stairwell was open, a pit, which stretched from the very top of the facility – some twenty six floors up – right down to the basement. As with wells, it is impossible to gauge the depth of it, it seemed to descend to the centre of the earth itself. She gripped the rail and gazed into the expanse and her head began to swim with the enormity of it. This past day or so she had gained an idea of the size of the facility from her experience of the level she was on. Now she multiplied that by the vertical dimension, and she gained an understanding of just how big the place actually was. 
When her head settled, she called out, listening to her voice echoing, fading as it went through the well, but there was no response. She knew it was a futile gesture – there was no one there but them. The others had heard her call and had joined her. “No one home,” she remarked and mounted the first of the steps that climbed to the top.
“Wait up,” Jim called after her, disappearing back into the foyer and returning seconds later with the extinguisher.
“You’re going to carry that all the way up?” Sammy asked incredulously.
“We might need it at the other end.”
“Twenty two floors…?”
Jim sighed and nodded.
“Are you boys finished?” Emily stood on the second step, her foot tapping impatiently.
“Are you in a hurry?” Lewis asked, smiling slightly.
“Yes, I am. I’m hungry, and I get cranky when I’m hungry. We’ve a long climb ahead of us and if it’s all right with all of you, I’d like to get started.”
She didn’t wait for their reply. Instead she started her climb, one step at a time, higher and higher. With each step hoping that she was moving closer to light, air and the appeasement of her ever present hunger.

Chapter Four

She was fourteen when she first met him. He was a year older, handsome and from the village on the other side of the lake. He had been brought there by his mother and placed into the care of his aunt, and the suspicion was that he was sent there to escape something. There was talk of a family tragedy, some insanity of the father, and this talk filtered down to the other young people and they avoided him. For the first year he was with them, he was alone.
She found him quiet, forthright and gentle and as she was the only one that would spend time with him, it was only natural that they should have fallen in love. The custom was to marry young in those parts and despite the misgivings of all they were joined the following year.
For the next two years, Samuel slowly and surely proved them all wrong. He was a good husband: caring, and gentle but strong when needed. Helping on her family plot, he showed himself hardworking and honest. By the end of this time he was accepted as part of the village and he was finally happy.
Three years after they were joined, Joanna brought their first (and as it turned out, only) child into the world. She named him Daniel, and he was more precious to them both than anything else. Daniel grew, as little boys do, and soon father and son would be seen working side by side on the family plot. Joanna would stand on the porch of their house and watch them together out in the field and she would smile and wonder at how wonderful her life was – if just for a short time.

One morning, sometime later, a message arrived for her husband. Samuel stood on the doorstep talking to a man she had never met and Joanna hung back, waiting for him. When the messenger had left, Samuel turned. There was a hint of sadness in his face and she was drawn to his side.
“What is it, love?” she asked, the fear rising in her throat.
“My father is dying.” He said it straight out, almost as casually as if it were a bird that had fallen out of the sky. She had seen his face as it turned. She knew he was only hiding his feelings.
“I’m sorry,” she told him and wrapped her arms around him, burying her head into his chest.
“I never really knew him, but I have to go. You understand? He’s asking for me.”
“Of course my love, you have to go. I wouldn’t want you to miss that last time with him. When will you leave?”
“I don’t have the funds to boat over, so I’ll have to walk. First light tomorrow I think. I’ll only be gone a few days, I promise.” He pulled himself away a little and looked down into her face. “I couldn’t stand to be away from you more than that.”
She shook her head. “No. You take as long as you need to take. This is important. He’s your father after all.” Then she smiled back at him, her best reassuring smile. “Just come back. Come back when you’re ready.”
He set off the following morning with the sun in front of him and she watched him go. Walking through the village with his bag on his back, the morning sunlight surrounded him like an aura, and she loved him even more in that moment than she had ever done before.

***

He had a long walk ahead of him. The quickest route was via river boat, rowed from the dock at their side to the other at Watchers. Without that option, he had no choice but to trek around the eastern side of the lake, walking the path that countless people had done in the past. He crossed bridges and creeks, eventually reaching the other side when the sun was descending behind the mountains in the west. Over the water, still and cool in the autumn evening, the rays of the golden orb traced a glittering line to his feet. He stayed at the water’s edge for a while, watching the sun go down, and then he continued on up the hill toward the northern gate of the village of his father.
He didn’t know where his father was, he couldn’t remember the last time he was here. He asked and followed the pointed finger down to the small house at the edge of the village. Beyond the last line of houses the hill slopped gently down, lined with the small trees that covered the land in that region. At the bottom of the hill the land flattened out to a plain that seemingly went on forever. He could not see that place from where he stood but he knew it was there just the same. That plain, or rather what lay beyond it, was the cause of all his family’s woes. 
When he arrived, those that had been sitting with his father left them alone together, allowing father and son to reconnect, at least in those last moments. Samuel’s mother had died long before he had left Watchers and so there was no one left other than him to grieve.
The silence was awkward. Benjamin laid on the bed, his eyes closed and his breathing slow and shallow. The end was not long away, and it seemed like he would sleep through it. Samuel pulled up a chair and sat next to his dying father, the legs of the chair scraping against the floor noisily. Benjamin’s eyes opened slowly and he fixed his gaze on the young man.
“Samuel?” Even in his state, his father knew who it was at was sitting next to him.
“Father…” Samuel fought to control his emotions. He managed to keep his words soft and even, hoping the old man would not notice the slight waver in his voice.
If he had noticed it he did not say. He seemed beyond idle talk, it was obvious that he knew his time was short, and that every breath counted. “Your choice,” he whispered in a hoarse, rasping tone.
“I have a choice?” Samuel asked, not sure he understood what he was hearing. In the years gone by, he never had a choice. He was dragged into the destiny his father had chosen for him. A destiny he had rejected years ago. 
“Yes…” Benjamin swallowed hard, his throat dry. “Take up the task or not.”
“So I can choose?” Samuel could hardly believe his ears. Now he could decide, all those years after fighting with the old man, having to leave, having no choice.
“There was always a choice, son. Now it’s yours to make.” He breathed in deeply, trying to fill his lungs with air in order to say what was needed. “You are a strong man. You’ll be up to the task but I’ll be proud of you whichever way you choose to take. My work is done.” He closed his eyes for a moment as if just remembering something he needed to ask. “You have a son? They told me you have a son.”
“Daniel.” He smiled at the sound of his sons’ name. “He’s a big boy, and strong. He’s a lot like you, stubborn.”
His father smiled back. “Well done. Look after you family.” Then he coughed for several moments, unable to take breath, and his lips started to turn blue. He swallowed again and spoke one last time, barely a whisper, so softly that Samuel moved in closer to hear.  “Look to the south.”

The following morning, Samuel rose and walked to the edge of the plain, looking over the featureless expanse and thinking over times in the past. He remembered all of it, the walks; the waiting; the training. In the end it was all for nothing, the old man was dead, and with him went the legacy of several lifetimes.
The people of this land were what his father had called ‘superstitious’. They believed many strange things that are of natural origin. The most prominent of these beliefs centred on what Benjamin had named ‘lightning’. Particularly in the summertime, large storms would swell in the sky, moving steadily northward and dropping rain and bright stalks of light onto the ground below.
‘Soultakers’ they called them. They were evil spirits who roamed the earth, taking the souls of the unwary and returning to the underworld. At the south of the plain there sat a building of moulded stone and behind it was a tall tower of old and rusted metal. They called it ‘The Stairs’. It was down those stairs that the Soultakers would descend, taking the souls they had collected with them, to a place they called Oblivion.
It was all nonsense of course. Samuel had been there many times with his father. He’d seen nothing of these things. His father called it foolishness and despite all the disagreements he’d had with the old man, in this he wholeheartedly agreed.
Returning to the village, he made arrangements for his father and then returned to the family plot and the old deserted house at the western fringe of the village. He would return here, the laws of succession demanded it, and work this plot as his father had done, and his father before him. The crops had been sown a month ago and there was still time before the tiny plants would emerge from the soil. He had enough time to affect the move.
He stayed another night, and then in the morning collected his belongings and began the long walk back around the lake and to his home.

The following month, he moved his family to the other side of the lake and into the house on the family plot. Joanna worked very hard to restore the house to a liveable condition, and Samuel went out into the field, clearing it of weeds and preparing for the eventual harvest. This arrangement went along nicely until summer came, and with it, the storms.
Dark clouds appeared on the southern horizon, far out over the plain, and from his position to the west of the village he could even see the vague flashes high up in the brooding storm clouds. Deep in him something stirred, something he had hoped he had squashed long ago. His father had freed him, but had he freed himself?
He started to pack his bag, readying himself for the journey ahead. Joanna saw him, confused - she stood in his way as he prepared to leave.
“What are you doing? Are you going somewhere?” she asked.
Samuel was unaccustomed to being questioned. He frowned at his wife’s attitude, but instead of berating her, he chose to answer her question. “You know where I’m going. We’ve talked about this day a long time ago.” 
They had spoken of this. He had no secrets from her. He had told her of his father’s legacy and what was expected of him from the old man. It was this, he said, that alienated Benjamin from everyone – his friends, his neighbours, and especially his son.
She stood with her hands on her hips, obviously displeased with his answer. “So, now Benjamin is gone you have to take his place?”
He shook his head. “It’s not that simple. I made a promise to my father. Today I will take his place. Tomorrow may be a different matter.” He shouldered his pack, making a move towards the doorway, but she barred his way. He didn’t want to aggravate her, so he asked her nicely to move out of his way.
She stayed put, pleading. “This is foolishness. No, this is madness! Do you know what is out there? What if you never return? What will Daniel and I do if you don’t return?”
“My father never came to any harm and neither will I. I’ve been out there and I know there is nothing to fear. I’ll return in three days. Please move out of the way.”
She was starting to get desperate. “You don’t have to do this. They all thought your father was mad. Do you want them to think you’ve gone mad too?”
“This is pointless.” He looked at her evenly, not giving ground. “I am going.”
This had become a battle of wills, one which Joanna was destined to lose. She knew it too. After moments of being stared down by her husband, she lowered her eyes in supplication and stepped aside.
There was no point in emotional goodbyes - there had been a confrontation where one of them had lost face. Samuel didn’t realise this, he didn’t see how he had hurt his wife. He was in too much of a hurry to get on his way. Time was wasting.
“I’ll return in three days,” he said absently and then he was gone.

He left the house that evening, just as the light was beginning to fade. It was getting dark. The imminent storm had kept the inhabitants of the village indoors. They didn’t see him as he trudged through their streets. At the southern end of the village, near where his father’s house still sat, dark and deserted, he crossed the line into the wilderness. The trees were not very tall, indeed all of the trees never grew taller than a man’s height, and he was just able to see the start of his destination in the diminishing daylight. The path descended finally onto the plain, disappearing completely into the rocky landscape.
Nothing grew here. It was as barren as the world had been in the past, reported in the stories of old. When his people had come here, centuries ago, all of the lands were like this. Somehow those first inhabitants had managed to bring life to the land north of here, life as it is now. This place however, refused to show any signs of fertility and was left to the elements.
He waited here. The storm was moving overhead and the clouds above seethed like a vast melting pot, threatening to spew forth its contents on the earth below. His father had said the lightning was not the Soultakers, but it was dangerous nonetheless. Under one of the trees he waited out the storm, sitting against its trunk whilst the rain bucketed from above, drenching him to the skin. The lightning flashed overhead and the air was full of its wake, the booming vibrated the very ground.
Just as quickly as it arrived, it passed, leaving him cold and wet but unshaken. He picked up his bag and walked to the packed earth that lined the rim of the plain. The rain had made puddles but the ground refused to soak them in, instead the water sat on the ground as a reminder of the stubbornness of this place. Soon this smooth and even surface made way for rocks that made up the majority of the landscape. He made his way through them, heading toward the south and the small dry river that ran right down the centre. It would take him hours and when he arrived he would take food and water and try and get his bearings. It was dark but a half moon was due to rise. Under the moonlight he could see his way and the place he was destined to reach.
It had taken all night to reach the other side. Before him, looming over him in first vestiges of morning, the Stairs rose overlooking the plain. A squat, grey building of moulded stone sat atop the hill lined with short thorny bushes. Behind it, further up, a tower of grey, rusted metal rose high into the morning sky. The bushes were impassable, only a fool would try and push his way through. The thorns were long and sharp and threatened to tear clothing and flesh alike. Only one way was available to climb the hill safely and those that came here knew where it was. It had been some time since Samuel had returned here and he scanned the base of the hill for signs of the path. He couldn’t remember where it was.
After a time he found it. He climbed up to the plateau where the stairs resided. The building was tall, standing as tall as ten men and had only a single door with a line of weathered windows above it, stretching around its front. The building itself was round in shape and the windows had an unrestricted view of the entire vista it faced.
The door, old rusty metal, stood open as it had from ages past. It had been ripped open with violence and now would never close again. Beyond it, in the bowels of the building, it was dark and foreboding. The door looked like a giant mouth, threatening to swallow anyone who would be foolish enough to enter, never to be seen again.
He did enter, after first cutting a branch of one of the small bushes which were laden with oil. This branch, after being properly prepared, would burn like a torch and would do so for quite some time. He had it lit and after taking one last look at the day just starting, he descended into the depths of the Stairs.

The camp was almost as he had remembered it. His father had stopped coming here sometime in the past out of necessity and it was neglected. He re-laid the stones around the fireplace and cleaned out the underground room. It was enough – he was not planning to stay here for long.
Years earlier he had come here with Benjamin and waited in this very place. The waiting was the hardest part. At least as they walked here and back, they were doing something. Here, there was only sitting and waiting. They had passed the time talking, and in the early years it had been easy, but by the end words came with great difficulty.
Opposite the ramp there was another metal door. It was closed and sealed shut. When he was younger he had hammered on that door, trying to coax the Sleepers out, for this was the way that they would come. There was never a response and he gave up - the door remained a last reminder of the futility of the Task to him. For years his family had come here, watching this very door and for years they had returned empty-handed. Now he was standing in front of this door again, something he had told himself he would never do again. It’s strange, he thought, how you always return to what you know.
He waited for the prescribed time, then collected his supplies and made for the entrance again. It was morning and the journey would take all day. If he made good time, he would be home at sunset and in time for supper.

Time had not settled her temper. Joanna remained angry with him, greeting him with folded arms at the door to their farm house. “So…” she started, barely keeping back the contempt for his actions, “…you have returned.”
He lowered his eyes. He could see he had hurt her. “Yes. How have things been?”
“I’m surprised you care,” she accused. “Leaving us as you did.”
“I’m sorry.” And he was. “If I didn’t care then I wouldn’t have returned. I am back now and I’m not going anywhere again in a hurry. Please don’t be angry with me. I love you.”
She softened some under his declaration of remorse and love. “I got so scared. I thought I’d never see you again. Please don’t ever leave us again.”
“I won’t. I promise.” He gathered her into his arms and she started to cry into his chest. He stroked her hair lovingly.
“The others say that the storms…” she began, putting a voice to his fears.
He shushed her into silence. “The others don’t know what they’re talking about. There is nothing dangerous about The Stairs. I was perfectly safe.”
“I thought you’d gone mad, like your father.”
He laughed softly. “I’m not going mad.”

His promise did not last. The very next lightning storm he was on his way again. There were four others that year and he went to The Stairs every time. With each instance the distance between them widened. She stopped being able to trust him and as the years passed, stopped being able to speak to him.
Others in the village began to notice too. They had seen him going off toward the storm front, seemingly unafraid of the consequences. Only a fool or a madman would go out there, they said. They settled on madman and Samuel was eventually labelled just as his father had been.
“How could I defend you?” she asked after he had returned from one of his journeys, “When even I don’t understand what you’re doing. If they think you’re crazy then it’s your own doing - you chose to follow this fool’s errand. You had a choice, and you made it. You chose your father’s way over us, so it’s on your head.”
They won’t understand the truth, no one can. How can I explain it? And so he let them think he was insane and he continued on as he always did.
Daniel continued to grow strong. By the time he was fifteen summers old, Samuel decided it was time for the boy to see the truth for himself. Summer arrived and so did the storms. One morning, in the face of rain and rumblings in the sky, Samuel packed two bags, one for his son.
Joanna, who had remained silent for many years, stood in his way again. She was adamant that Daniel would not be going with him and was prepared to do anything to keep the boy there. Samuel was just as determined and once again faced her off. Inevitably she had no choice but to back down and even tears would not suffice. As father and son departed from the farm, Samuel knew she was watching them as they went, becoming even more distant from both of them.
Samuel had been teaching him while they worked together in the field. By now he could fluently speak the tongue of the old world and knew something of the secrets of the True Watchers. This journey was meant to connect him to the Task, to enable him to make the Choice when it became the time for him to make it.
They walked over the plain. The sun was obscured by the dark clouds overhead, clouds that showed no sign of moving from their position over the southern end of the plain. They were side by side, their packs over their shoulders and content that the only sound to pass between them was the noise of their feet on the soil.
Finally, after a long time, they had arrived and taken shelter at the river while the storm passed overhead. Only after they resumed their trek, did Daniel start his questions.

***

“We’re going to The Stairs, Father?”
“Yes. Do you see the tall tower over there, on the hill?”
Daniel nodded.
“That’s where we are going.”
“The others say it’s a dangerous place.” He had been talking to the other young people in the village, nothing specific, just talking about the place in general.
His father kept walking, unfazed by Daniel’s statement. “What do you think?” he asked.
Daniel thought for a long time, his face was creased with internal dialog. In the end, he put his musings as succinctly as he could: “You’ve been there many times and you’ve returned just the same as you’d left. You don’t seem worried about where we are going – so I think I won’t be worried either.”
His father seemed amused by the conversation. Daniel could hear it in his voice. “But you forget,” he was saying. “The others think I’m crazy like my father.”
Daniel smiled. “You’re not as crazy as they think you are. Perhaps you’re reckless - you’re walking to this place without fear.”
“There is nothing to fear here. This is really just a place to wait.”
Now the banter between them had reached its conclusion. They were talking about important things.
“We’re waiting for The Sleepers?” Daniel knew the answer already.
His father nodded. “That’s all we need to do for now.”
That was not enough for the young man, he needed to know more. “But I still don’t understand why!”
“Ah, I was waiting for the why. My father told me when I was your age. He said he had waited until now because he was sure that I’d be able to keep the secret and understand the need to keep it that way. My father and I walked this way many years ago and I asked just that same question to him. We wait for the Sleepers because they’ll need us. I told you that many, many years ago, in order to preserve the remnant of man, the strongest of us were set aside. They will one day return to heal the curse that hangs over us. You know we can’t heal this world – we don’t have the knowledge or the strength. Years under the curse has weakened us. They have both of those things – but they’ll need our help.”
He suddenly felt very important, like he was part of something big, not just a farmer’s son. “So we’re important to the future of our people?” he asked.
“We’re important to the future of all men. If we’re not here to help them at their first waking then all the hope for the future is lost. We’re all lost. Understand?”
“I think so… But how will we know they’ve come?”
“We don’t know.” He shielded his eyes against the glare coming off the ground, obviously trying to gauge whether they’d remained on course. 
“That’s why we come here,” he explained. “That’s why we wait here. If they don’t wake…” he said with a shrug, “then we go back, as countless of our fathers have done in the past.” He stopped looking ahead and turned to his son, regarding him for a moment and then smiled. “I think by now I know what your next question will be.”
Daniel didn’t ask a question. He had already thought through the answer all on his own. “It’s the lightning that calls us. That’s what’s going to wake them, isn’t it?”
“It’s the ‘katahlyst’ – that’s what my father called it. The lightning causes it to happen – but obviously not all the time. The lightning is power. It’s the power that wakes them. When they wake and emerge, then they’ll tell us what to do next.”
There was a long period of silence as the two of them slowly approached the hill with its tower looming behind it. Daniel had been thinking. There were still aspects of the process he was unclear about.
“Father…” he started tentatively - changing to the other, ancient language he had been taught. “We have learnt the tongue of the old world. Is that the way we will talk to them?”
Samuel frowned, replying in the old way also. “My hope is that we have not changed the words too much after all this time. I am hoping when they do wake, we’ll be able to understand each other.” Something about the reality of that situation amused him, and he chuckled to himself. “Something tells me that it is not going to be my problem – or probably yours either.”
“You said the Judges speak this tongue as well.”
“Yes, but for a different reason. They do not know, or believe in the Sleepers. They speak the old tongue because no one else does.”
“But we do.”
“That is why we only speak it here.” Samuel stopped and stared into Daniel’s eyes, trying to imprint this message clearly into him. “They must never know we speak it, you understand? They must never know. This is why we keep everything we do a secret. The Judges would oppose us and we cannot let that happen.”
As was the usual timing of things, it was starting to get dark when they arrived and his father made a torch from the thorny shrubs which lined the hill. Armed with this light, they descended into The Stairs together to do the duty that had been entrusted to them.

***

It was morning again and Daniel slowly opened his eyes to the blinding sun that beamed in through his window. I’m sure I shut the blinds. Who in the name of the Great Oblivion opened them? He was lying on his bed, dressed only in his undergarments. He was hot and sweaty and his mouth felt like he had eaten a mouthful of dirt. He covered his eyes. The light had entered his skull and into his brain, causing the organ to throb intensely. Closing his eyes helped, but the damage was done. Oh, my head!
Before he opened his eyes again and scanned the room, he knew who was there. Whenever there had been pain in his life, his father was somewhere in the vicinity. He rolled onto his back, an arm draped over his face, and he moaned.
“Close the blinds, for pity’s sake!”
There was movement next to him, proving his instincts correct, and the room became darker. It was enough for Daniel to become a little more social. When he turned his head, his father was sitting next to his bed with an amused expression. Daniel hadn’t seen him for a while, and the yellow tint of his father’s eyes shocked him just a little.
“You don’t look so well, son,” his father observed.
“You don’t look so well yourself. You’re become even more yellow than the last time I saw you.”
Samuel sighed and leaned back on the chair. “Amelia says I’m not long for this world I’m afraid. The cures she gives me – those for the pain – only work for a time. She says my liver is failing and there is nothing more she can do.”
“I’m sorry,” Daniel wouldn’t have ordinarily cared, but this time he meant it.
“Me too, for so many things, for so many hard words that I said to you. I’m sorry I pushed you away – so much that you felt you needed to get away from me. I’ve never been your enemy you know – all I wanted to be was your friend.”
Daniel was suspicious. What did the old man want?
“Is that why you’re here? Are you here to try and make amends for the past before you die? It’s a little late…”
Sitting up, he looked for the bottle he had placed by the bed the night before. There it was, on the table next to his father. He reached out to take it, but Samuel was quicker.
Samuel took it out of arms reach. “Water would be better choice.” He went into the common room, returning with a pottery cup and handed it to his son. “Now… to answer your question – yes, or rather, partly yes. I need to tell you something as well.”
Daniel had taken a drink from the cup and handed it back to his father. “More secrets, father? Please! No more! I’m not hiding things again.”
“No, no. This isn’t a secret. I wanted to tell you that it’s your time to choose. That it’s your choice to make now. My time is almost over and yours has just begun. You have to decide, like I did, whether you wish to follow the path of our fathers or to follow your own. That choice is yours.”
Daniel looked up sharply and his expression hardened. “There is no choice with you. Are you going to keep asking until I give you the answer you want? I told you before: I want nothing to do with the Task. I’ve made my choice already, and you know it!”
His father lowered his head and nodded. “Very well…” he sighed, “I’ll respect that decision.”
Daniel threw up his hands. “Finally!” he exalted, but his jubilation was cut short by the warning hand of his father.
“If I accept your decision…” he began, speaking evenly, as one who negotiates, “Then you must do something for me. I’ll ask one more thing of you before I go.”
Daniel felt caught. He wanted to be free of his father, but nothing came without cost.
“If you do this one thing for me…” Samuel continued, “I’ll not bother you about this again. Please, will you do your dying father one last favour?”
Daniel was resigned. “I think I’ll not find any peace with you until I do. What are you asking?”
Samuel’s eyes were almost pleading. “Come with me this one last time. Wait with me. Let’s take this one last trip together.”
“I told you that I never wanted to go there again! How can you ask me this?” He shook his head in disbelief.
“One last time, that’s all. You can go with me this one last time, surely? Then I can go – and you’ll be free.”
Daniel still couldn’t believe it. “How could you ask me this?”
Samuel kept on pleading: “One last time… please.”
“Very well,” Daniel relented. “But you’ll promise me now – and not like those promises you made mother – a real promise, that when we get back that is it. No more. Understand?”
His father smiled. “Of course, this is the last time, I promise. Thank you.” Tears started to form in his eyes, and he stood up to go.
“So,” Daniel sought clarity, “We’re going when the next storm comes?”
Samuel nodded. This was the way they had always done it. Summer was not far off, and the storms came with it. “I’ll expect you when the time comes.”
Daniel slumped back on the bed and waved his father goodbye, “Yes,” he sighed. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to suffer in peace.”

Chapter Five

The stairs seemed to rise up to heaven itself. 
Emily was leading the group, climbing the levels one step at a time now. They seemed to get steeper with each passing floor. Still she pressed on, driven by the desire for freedom. She had remained barefooted, having rejected the offer of boots from Jim before they had started. Now she was beginning to regret that decision. At intervals she would stop and deliver a well chosen oath after having trodden on some unseen but sharp obstacle. By now her feet were becoming bloody and bruised. She stepped as carefully as she could but still ended up hobbling as she went.
Directly behind her, some three or four steps, was Lewis. He was faring much better, having gained footwear before the climb and his makeshift bag was lighter than when he started.  He was calling out numbers as they went, level after level, his voice echoing madly in the space around them. Behind him, a level or so away, Jim trudged with his load, moving relentlessly upward. He had refused an offer from Lewis to take the extinguisher and stubbornly bore his burden without much complaint. Behind him, Sammy came up at the rear. He had elected to take this position, content that he could move slower with Jim ahead of him. His only reservation was if Jim stumbled and fell backwards, they would both be in serious trouble.
Ordinarily this task would have taken hardly any time to complete, granted there were a lot of stairs to assail, but none of those that climbed them were in good condition. They hadn’t eaten for some time, they had slept badly on cold, hard concrete and despite finding water they were incessantly thirsty. All of these factors added to the enormity of the task at hand and drained them. Consequently what should have been difficult was almost impossible.
It had seemed like three days ago when she had returned to her home having lost her job again. Her father had said she would amount to nothing, that her career was going nowhere. Linguistics…? He questioned sarcastically. There are lots of jobs in that! She remembered nothing of the intervening time, for all she knew centuries had passed. Now she was leading this rag-tag group of males up a set of stairs to what she hoped would be their salvation. If her father were here today, what would he say about her now?
In between Lewis’s calls, the stairwell was filled with the noises of their feet on the stairs and the panting of their breath as they climbed. When they had reached Level Fifteen, a voice came from below.
Jim was calling back up to Lewis: “That’s not helping, you know.”
She kept on going, but was mindful that Lewis had stopped. The sound of his feet had ceased. He was probably leaning over the old rusty rail when he answered. “Sorry. I’ll keep it to myself.”
Jim hadn’t had time to reply. Emily had reached the landing of Level Fourteen and seen something huddled in a corner. She stopped dead in her tracks and raised the alarm. “There’s something up here!”
Lewis was there first, he stopped right behind her, his chin almost resting on her shoulder. They had to wait several minutes for the other two to arrive.
“What is it?” Jim said, puffing excessively on the last step, the extinguisher still in his arms, weighing him down.
“Another body...” Lewis was the one who gave the news, his voice slightly downcast. They hadn’t seen any evidence of the dead for some time and their spirits were raised just a little from it, despite the arduous climb they were undertaking.
Jim dropped his burden with a heavy metallic clunk and he passed through them as they stood back. They’d lost their fear of the decayed inhabitants of this place and closed in behind him, waiting to see what Jim had to say about the latest find.
“He’s one of Keith’s friends, I think.” Jim was already going over the dead solider with the same indifference as in previous times.
Sammy joined him, squatting on the other side. “Another guard…?”
“Looks like it…” Jim pulled a long metal tube out from where it rested between the corpse’s knees and held it up. “…difference is: he’s armed.”
Instead of being on the floor and shot in the back like the others, this one was sitting against the wall in the corner of the landing. His uniform was intact and there were no telltale holes burnt into his jacket. This one hadn’t been killed by whoever had attacked this place. He had died here alone in the stairwell, possibly trapped.
Jim had stood up and was going over the weapon; it looked like a rifle that any soldier would carry. He seemed to know what he was doing when he pulled another part out of the weapon and looked into it. “Empty,” he pronounced, pushing the object back into the butt of the rifle and handing it over to Lewis.
“What happened to him?” Emily had seen a hole blown out of the back of the soldier’s skull. She was hoping what she had deduced was not true.
“He shot himself,” Jim declared sadly. “I think he was hiding in here after seeing all his friends killed. It looks like he saw no other way out.”
“You’re not suggesting he was unable to get out of here? We’re not caught in here too?” Sammy was looking worried.
Jim stood over the body, looking down at the unfortunate soul. “No,” he shook his head. “He must have thought that there was nowhere else to go. If he left here, they’d find him and kill him like the others.”
He crouched down again, this time to the man’s feet and began to pull off the old boots. The laces fell apart making the job a little easier. Once they were off, he tipped whatever had been in them (Emily did not want to know exactly what it was) onto the ground and held them out to her, saying: “These look like they’d fit you.”
She backed off. “I’m not wearing those!” she protested. She was repulsed by the idea of wearing a dead man’s shoes and having the remnants of the man all over her bare feet. She looked down at the slowly decaying corpse with horror.
Jim stood and thrust them into her chest. “I’m not listening to you complain the rest of the way. Look at your feet!”
She looked down. They weren’t a pretty sight.
“I told you…” She was backing off again. He was following her, step by step.
“Now,” he looked at her steadily, saying each word slowly and distinctly, “Put – them – on.”
Snatching them angrily, she sat and slowly pulled the remains of the boots onto her injured feet. She was grumbling all the while, wincing frequently and at times giving Jim sidelong glances. She suspected the boots would protect her from injuring her feet further but the damage had already been done. The old leather would rub in all the wrong places. 
There was nothing else of real value to collect from the dead man and Jim left him relatively intact. He still had a red bracelet around his wrist and Jim left that too as he had one already, taken from Keith. Lewis took the rifle, useless without any ammunition. He seemed to find some comfort from holding the weapon. Perhaps it made him feel a little safer. Jim nodded to Emily, motioning towards the stairs and she started the climb again. Behind her, Jim grunted as he lifted the extinguisher and waited his turn to follow her.
“You know, I think this thing has actually got heavier since I put it down,” Jim was complaining. She could hear him groan as he took the first step.
Sammy answered him, chuckling at Jim’s ordeal. “Or… perhaps you’re getting weaker? Maybe Emily should carry it for you?”
“Never mind,” he said in a deflated tone and kept on climbing.

She reached Platform Five after some time, she did not know how long. It may have only taken minutes but every muscle in her body told her otherwise. She leaned up against wall to rest and found herself sliding to the floor as her legs finally succumbed to the fatigue. Lewis was a few steps behind her, surveying the landing quickly then announcing their arrival over the rail. He’d taken a bottle from his pouch and had had drunk half of it by the time the other two had made the last step. They collapsed next to Emily against the wall.
Lewis was the only one left standing and he felt obliged to try the door. Grasping the handle he tried to turn it, but it wouldn’t move. “It’s locked,” he noted sourly.
“Jammed I’d say,” Sammy corrected. “This is a fire escape remember.” He climbed slowly to his feet, grunting as he did and limped to the door. Predictably the handle proved unwilling to turn for the big man either. “Yes, definitely jammed.”
Lewis had the extinguisher again and was advancing on the door. Sammy quickly jumped back as the heavy object descended down onto the handle, making even the concrete walls vibrate from the impact. “It’s getting there,” he pronounced happily, raising his makeshift hammer for another attempt.
Sammy had seen the error in his aim and the eventual result of his bludgeoning. He was too late when he called out. Lewis was already on the downward stroke and the warning rang out too late for Lewis to correct his course: “Not in the middle - on the side!”
Had Lewis made the adjustment his aim he might have succeeded - instead he managed to relieve the door entirely of its handle. The severed article spun off across the floor and landed at Jim’s feet.
“Crap!” was all the young man could say.
“Now it’s not going to open!” Sammy said, retrieving the handle from the floor. 
Lewis was apologetic.
“It’s not your fault,” Jim said. “I don’t think it was ever going to open.” He was standing, looking at Lewis and pointing to the stairs that led up to Level Four. “Let’s try the next door up. Bring the extinguisher with you.”
Emily remained where she was. She was tired and needed to rest. She left the men to handle the doors, choosing to listen to the echoing expanse. She could hear everything they were saying on the landing above.
Jim: “It’s tight, but – it – moves.”
Lewis: “Do we bash it?”
Jim: “Do you really want to do that again?”
Sammy: “Wait… Let me try…”
She could hear Sammy groaning under the strain of pushing hard on the handle and then he abruptly stopped. Jim congratulated him.
“Emily!” He called from up above. “Come up here! We’ve got the door open.”
She made her way up there slowly, infused with a little energy by the hope of escape. The boys were waiting, standing just inside the door for her to lead them on.
Emily pointed to the useless weapon in Lewis’s hands. “That doesn’t work, you know.”
“But it looks like it does,” Lewis smiled, taking it up. “And that’s what matters.”
The first thing they saw was directly in front of them - a desk: dusty, and old. A computer still sat on its surface, undamaged by misuse or time, along with the remnants of papers and a pen that had probably dried out long ago. Behind that, lined up in rows, machines and vehicles sat silent and disused, their shiny parts gleaming in the lights that shone weakly from above. Either the lamps were set deliberately low to conserve power, or there was not much power in the first place. The illumination was enough to see, for which they were all grateful.
What was painfully obvious to all was that the place was as deserted as the lower levels. Hope of a ready rescue dissolved once they had broken through the door behind them.
“There goes the theory that there are people up here,” Lewis said despondently.

They looked at each other for several moments, realising that now they were where they wanted to be, there seemed to be far too many options. 
“We should get started,” Emily suggested, moving over to the first of the vehicles. “There’s nothing but trucks and machines here and they’re of no use to us.” 
There were lots of shelves, arranged in rows to the left and right. They appeared as they moved further from the centre.
She headed to the nearest collection of stores with the others following obediently. Along the shelves - three tiers high - were boxes. They were uniform in size, shape and colour and were made from hard plastic. The material was retardant against decay and was perfectly preserved. What was more important was that the contents were in an equally pristine condition. She pulled out one of them and examined it closely while the others came in behind her.
“What’s in it?” Jim asked over her shoulder.
“I don’t know. There’s a label on it but it doesn’t say. There’s only a number and a barcode but…” She shrugged.
“Always with the numbers,” Lewis added. He was looking at some of the other containers on the same shelf.
Grasping a tab on the side, she pulled it up exposing the rift along the top by pulling free the tape that held it. Now released, the lid sprung open allowing the contents to be seen. She looked inside, holding her breath.
“It’s some part of something.” She exhaled, disappointed and held the piece of metal up so they could see. “They must all have some bit of something in them. Maybe they’re parts of the trucks over there.” She put it back into its container and replaced it back on the shelf. “This is getting us nowhere.”
Stalking through the rows of the shelves, she stopped at a junction between them. “Okay.” She was thinking, rubbing her eyes. “We need to split up. Each of us will have to do a part of this place. It’ll take too long to search otherwise.”
“Do you think that’s wise? One of us could get lost.” Sammy was looking worried, glancing around the dark storehouse nervously. 
It was a big area to cover but Emily was confident none of them would go astray. “It’ll be fine, Sammy,” she tried to reassure him. “All of us will be in shouting distance. Yell if you get into trouble,” she said to all of them, “This goes the same for finding something we need. Yell out for that too.”
She sent each of them in a different direction: Jim went back to the trucks and machines. Sammy went with him, but continued onward to area beyond. Emily and Lewis proceeded in the opposite direction, with Lewis moving further than where Emily had planned to search.
Emily stood alone again with the sounds of the others ransacking the storehouse in her ears. Around her the shelves stood in neat and orderly rows, stacked with the same uniform boxes she had seen before. She turned slowly, unsure of where to start. There would be no point in searching every box.
For the next ten minutes she walked through the aisles, looking through the boxes that caught her fancy, but found nothing of value. At the end of her search, she reached the outer wall. There was a wide corridor going around the outside of the storehouse. At some time the vehicles Jim was currently looking over must have travelled along this road. There must be a ramp here somewhere. Following the road along a short distance, the ramp she had been looking for came into view. It was going down to the level below where they had tried to break in earlier, but she had no time to investigate.
Somewhere nearby, someone was yelling. She couldn’t tell where it was coming from or who was making the noise, but she knew what it meant. Going back to the shelves, she climbed up on one of them so that her head peeked up over the top and searched for a sign. There it was: a small light, a beacon in that dark place, waving slowly back in the direction she had come. It went out suddenly but she had fixed its position and climbed down, almost jumping from the shelf, running in the direction of the light.

***

Emily had told him where to go, and he went there reluctantly but without complaint. Initially he felt vague concern over being sent out alone in his place, but when she had spoken against his fear it dissolved away. Somewhere here, he told himself, is something of immense value, more important than even food or water.
He didn’t know why he believed it, he just did. Perhaps it was because he was weak from hunger, but surely in that case food would have been paramount in his mind – but it wasn’t.
Heading steadily to the left he followed the line of shelves as they curved gently around. He stopped and reached for a box. It was labelled like the one Emily had pulled out. It bore a single sticker on its side with a number and barcode. He ripped it open indelicately, exposing the contents to his scrutiny. He found bundles of blue pens wrapped in the same thick plastic he had seen before. He had no interest in whether they still worked. He couldn’t eat them and he was sure this wasn’t the thing he was really looking for. He slid the box back into its place and continued on.
Further along he opened another box with a similar feeling of dissatisfaction. He found writing paper this time, stored identically as the pens and in perfect condition. The next three boxes yielded equally uninspiring contents: staplers, folders and computer discs. He started to get the feeling that there was a common theme developing. He stopped looking into boxes, feeling rather despondent over his failure to find anything of value and instead walked to the outer rim, stumbling on a ramp leading upwards to the level above.
So, this is what I’ve been looking for.
He craned his head around a corner, foolishly keeping himself out of sight from whoever – or whatever – lay at the top of the rise. There was no one there or anywhere else in this place except for the four of them. He assumed it was safe and started to inch his way up.
Then he heard it. Behind him, somewhere at the other side, someone was calling. It wasn’t Emily, he was sure of that. It must be Jim or Lewis. The voice echoed through the whole chamber, preventing him from gauging its location and he shook his head at the deception of the reverberations.
It was likely to be Lewis. He was right next to him, further along to the right and that was the direction he went. The outside wall curved gradually around and he followed it until he saw another table. Ordinarily he would have ignored it, the table promising nothing but inactive computers and crumbling paper, but this time as he passed something else caught his eye.
There on the table sat a box, black and shiny. It seemed out of place, and this fact alone drew him to it. Picking it up, it was obvious it was not a box after all – rather it was a book covered in the same thick, clear plastic he had seen earlier. He didn’t open the plastic bag, to begin with he didn’t have scissors, but he didn’t need to – the contents of the book could be seen clearing though it’s covering.
That’s odd, finding this here.
Somewhere in the void the voice was still calling, beckoning him to come and he started to hobble along the road again. His knee was still sore from landing on it yesterday – or was it the day before? 
Then a light burst into view, a little light, but it shone like a beacon, calling him in. Sammy knew in an instant what that light meant and who was holding it. When it was extinguished a short time later he had already fixed its position and was making his way toward it as quickly as he was able. When he arrived the other two had beaten him and they were looking at something in Emily’s hands. 
“What is it?” Sammy asked, joining the trio.
“What took you so long?” Jim looked up sharply, adding his own question to Sammy’s. “Did you find something?”
“You could say that.”

***

He had something of immense value in his hand. It was not food or water, it was much more important than that. He knew what it was the moment he looked at it and seconds later he was yelling frantically to the others.
They’ll never find me here, he thought. He reached into his pouch and pulled out the lighter, holding aloft its yellow flame, guiding the others in.
Emily was first, she must have been almost next to him when he started to call. She was puffing heavily. “What’ve you got?” she said between laboured breaths.
He held it out to her, a white board covered in writing, protected by plastic. It wasn’t the board itself that mattered, rather what was written on it. She took it from him and when he illuminated her view, she looked back at him and smiled.
“What’ve you found?” Jim was coming into view.
“It’s a list.” Lewis said, waving him in, pointing to the white board in Emily’s hands.
“Tell me it’s a list of this place,” Jim said hopefully. He was looking down at the prize, but Sammy arrived and distracted him. “What took you so long? Did you find something?”
Sammy had, but he was more interested in what was in Emily’s hands. “Give me good news, Emily.”
She was looking hard at the document, flicking it over several times. “It’s not conclusive - it’s more a list of areas and what’s roughly in them. Sammy,” she turned to the big, dark skinned man, “you found stationary, right?”
He nodded.
She looked back at Lewis, holding the lighter up over his head. “Farming equipment?” When he responded positively she finally went to Jim. “Downstairs. The food and water is downstairs.”
Lewis felt deflated. Visions of the fire extinguisher descending onto the handle of the Level Five’s door came to mind. He could see the broken handle spin off though the air and land at Jim’s feet. He sighed. “That’s it then. It’s over.”
Emily smiled and shook her head. “I’ve got it covered. There’s a ramp going down – over there.” She nodded back where she’d come.
Sammy was nodding too. “There is a ramp up as well. I found it just before…” The remainder of his sentence was cut short. All around them it suddenly became darker. For a moment the lights above them faded almost to nothing, and then they returned to their usual level.
The four of them looked up and then around. It was Jim who spoke first, his voice lacking the element of confidence it had shown these last few hours. “Did you see that…?”
Emily set her face grimly. “We’d better get moving. I’m not sure this light is going to last.” She turned and marched out between the shelves with the chart in her hand. The others scrambled to follow, her words were still returning to them through the air many times over, reminding them of the truth they could all see.
Lewis was right behind her, trying to match her determined pace, hoping that time was not running out for them now that they had their chance. She turned sharply to the left and looked down at her feet. No, not her feet. She was looking down a slope that descended into the depths of night.
When he saw it he shook his head. “There’s no light down there.”
“No,” she disagreed. “There’s no light in the ramp. I’m sure Level Five has just as much as up here.” And to prove it was safe, she fearlessly walked down and disappeared.

Emily was right. Once they had reached the bottom, it opened up again into a storehouse just like the level above. The lights on the roof were on, gleaming dimly onto the shelves below.
Jim put a hand on her shoulder. “Where to now…?”
Emily called to Lewis. She needed his light to read the document. 
“This is Area Two. The waters here, and… ah, food is in One, over there.” She pointed to the right.
Sammy grabbed Lewis by the shirt and almost dragged him to the bottom of the ramp, two or three steps, forcing Lewis to let his lighter go out. 
“We’ve got the food,” the big man announced, bringing Lewis along with him.
The food store looked identical to the other areas here and above. The shelves were the same and the boxes as well. Sammy went to the first row and opened one of them unceremoniously. He looked down, perplexed at the contents. 
“There are just tins in them.” He pulled one out and looked for the label. It was still shiny and clean, the silver metal gleaming in the half-light. “I’ve no idea what’s in this.” He shook his head and then moments later looked back at the young man with his eyes narrowed and his mouth set with purpose.
“Can you carry two of these boxes?” he asked, already sealing the one he had opened.
Lewis nodded.
“That’s two each. Get your two from different places. That way we’re sure to get some variety. I’ll take this one and get another for myself.” Lewis didn’t move. “Go boy, Go!” he shouted urgently.
Back at the ramp, Emily and Jim had collected enough boxes that they could carry and had them sitting on the edge of the ramp. Sammy and Lewis brought their boxes straight there, heading up and out without stopping. There were no words passed. They all knew what needed to be done and that it needed to be accomplished as quickly as possible.
At the top of the ramp Sammy took the lead, directing them to the centre of the storehouse and through to the other side where the ramp up to Three waited.
“Three levels,” Lewis quipped. “Piece of cake…” And he followed Emily up to the floor above carrying his burden with him.

When they reached the top of the ramp, instead of seeing what they had below, they were greeted by a long, dim corridor slowly arcing to the left. Emily was off - marching awkwardly off ahead and the others were forced to match her relentless pace. She was tired and hungry but now had a taste of freedom, and she was going to run headlong towards it with all the energy she possessed.
The corridor continued on, ending with another ramp leading to Level Two. It was a copy of the one below. As they progressed, all sense of direction was lost. But this was not as important as keeping on the path they had chosen. Level One was the same, the only difference being that half way along the light failed entirely, leaving them standing in the dark. For a good minute they waited, not speaking. Then without warning there was an insidious clunk further down the passage and the light returned. They looked at each other for a moment then Emily proceeded, slower than before – she was running out of steam as quickly as they were running out of time.
The ramp at One rose up, but instead of starting its leftward turn it remained straight. Neither did it flatten out, rather it continued upward. With each step, the group believed that they were getting closer and closer to the top. Hope began to form in their hearts and with that, their legs became stronger. One last effort was required, one last push to the end.
There was something ahead and when they arrived they knew the road had come to an end. There, in front of them, a heavy metal door barred their way. It stood against them, unsympathetic to their plight and deaf to their pleas.
Once they had laid down their boxes, the lights that ran along the ceiling of the passage chose that moment to fade again, this time for much longer. When they resumed their function, Jim’s face appeared out of the gloom, looking extremely concerned.
“Why now? We’re so close!” He was at the door, looking around the frame for something. “Help me! We’re looking a switch or a lock - anything to get this open.” He was starting to sound desperate.
They joined him, all looking for the elusive method of escape but none of them found anything that would work. The search area was not large and it took no time at all.
Jim was starting to sound frantic, calling to them, “Keep looking!”
On Lewis’s second search he did notice something: on the wall, on the left side, a plastic panel screwed into the concrete. It was black - the same colour as the wall that surrounded the door and that was why he missed it on his earlier sweep. It was only found because it was not flush against its mounting surface, sitting slightly out when Lewis ran his hand along the wall. He pressed it, he poked it, but it did nothing and so he moved on.
In that very instant the lights faded then flickered menacingly. They all looked up then, fearful of being caught here at the end of this road in the dark and without hope. Their fears were realised when the light failed again. A dull thud reverberated through the tunnel and suddenly blackness completely surrounded them. They stood there in total darkness for the longest time, waiting for the lights to return. But they never did. When it was obvious that they had reached the end of their luck, Jim’s voice was heard to cut through the deafening silence.
An understatement: “That’s not good.”

Chapter Six

The blackness had finally caught them in its cold tentacles and with that blackness came oppression and fear. Suddenly all of the resolve and cohesion that they had enjoyed up till this point dissolved in the cessation of the light and the huge, impassable, metal door. There were voices, urgent and quiet at first, rising in volume and intensity - blaming words that stung as if delivered with a slap of the hand. There was only one voice that was not present in the melee, Jim simply located a place on the concrete floor and sat down, waiting for the arguments to lose their momentum.
When they finally did, his voice came from below them. Quiet, clear and pointed: “Now we’ve finished panicking, can we sort out what to do?”
“Panicking?” Emily said, her voice starting to rise again.
Jim remained calm and his voice even. “Call it what you want,” he suggested, “but, here’s an idea… how about we stop arguing and starting working together? It seems to have got us this far.”
“All right, so what do we do now?” Sammy had calmed down, but he wasn’t yet convinced they weren’t completely out of luck and time. At times he seemed confident but this had evaporated with the obstacle that existed before them.
“Let’s just sit down and talk? If we panic now then we’ll really be dead. Okay?”
Lewis struck the flint on his lighter again and the tight corner they had found themselves burst into light. They suddenly felt a little less claustrophobic, but still there was nowhere else to go. The door remained a barrier they could not cross. The light gave those still standing an opportunity to find a place to sit, which they took.
“Don’t waste the light.” Jim was mindful that it would not last forever. The corridor was swallowed in darkness again.
“Now, I know it’s dark,” Jim began after taking a deep breath, “and I know we aren’t completely sure of where we are or where we’re going, but we’ve got this far by working together and I’m sure that method’s not going to let us down. We do have food and water now and we are almost at the top. I think we can find our way out, but we’ve got to work together again, otherwise this is the place where we’re going die.
“This is the way out, I’m sure of it. Behind this door…” He let it trail off. He’d been positive that he was on the right track from the very beginning and the others had followed him, trusted him. Now it all came down to this last obstacle.
“Did anybody see anything? It doesn’t matter if it was only something small – it could have been something important.” Jim was hoping the switch to the door wasn’t somewhere else.
“I’m not sure.” It was Lewis, sitting to his left, his voice same to him out of the dark as a ray of hope. “There’s a square panel thing that juts out of the wall a little. It doesn’t do anything though.”
Jim was standing. “Where is it? Show me.”
They needed the lighter again. It was difficult to find as it blended into the surface around it. Lewis was right, the panel was there but it was useless. Jim tried everything he could think off to stimulate it, but in the end it was just a square stuck on the wall. Lewis let the light fail again.
Jim muttered to himself and started to run his hands along the wall using his left hand. His right was resting on the wall but he wasn’t paying any attention to it. He was searching for anything else that was hidden behind the paint. 
Without warning, Lewis who had been standing behind him, gasped. “Did you see that?” The lighter flared seconds later.
Jim turned back to his friend and looked to where the young man was gazing with his eyes wide with surprise, looking crazy in the flickering light. “What? What did you see?” he demanded.
“That panel… there was a light on it: a little red light. When you moved your arm next to it, it lit up! It’s gone now.”
Lewis gave the lighter a rest and then their small area lit up again. The others had joined them. The panel looked exactly the same as it did seconds earlier.
“What did you do?” Sammy asked, feeling the edges of the square black object.
“I don’t know…” Jim was perplexed.
“Your arm was next to it.” Lewis grabbed Jim’s right arm and held it up.
Jim pulled up his sleeve, exposing the grey metal band around his lower arm. “Maybe it was…” He brought the band close to the panel and the red light Lewis had seen appeared again. It was in the shape of a small red padlock.
“That’s it!” Emily gasped. “It’s the lock!”
Jim could barely contain his excitement. “But, more importantly, these bands that we’re wearing are more than just tags - they’re keys!”
“They won’t open the door though, will they?” Sammy had voiced the problem before any of the others.
“We’ve got another one,” Emily pointed out. “Not like ours – a red one. Keith was a guard, his could work.”
Lewis was fishing through his pouch, his light flared once while he was searching. He passed it to Jim before he was forced to give the lighter a rest. Jim knew where the panel was and he moved the band over the face of it. Instead of the red padlock, it was green.
Nothing happened immediately - they stood in the dark and silence. Holding their breath they waited.
“Maybe it’s not going to…” Emily started to pronounce failure until there was a dull thud around them and Jim imagined that she jumped backwards with fright. They probably all did. The door started to vibrate and then at their feet a thin line of flickering light appeared. With much protest the door began to slide upwards and out of their path.
As it moved out of the way, they were bathed in a light that progressed up their legs and beyond until they were all fully illuminated. They blinked against it, it was brighter than they had become used to but they were glad for it.
Leaving their meagre possessions they shuffled tentatively toward the opening. Jim was first - he put out a warning hand behind him to stop the others while he peered around the corner to the source of the light.

The room was square and large, with a high roof and it was almost empty. Jim had thought from the moment the door had made way for them that the light beyond was not natural like the sun, but a fire of some sort. Now he could see he was right. In the corner of the room was a modest campfire, burning brightly, illuminating the entire room. Perhaps it was not the brightest source imaginable, but compared to what he had become used to, it was like the sun itself.
Jim entered carefully and slid himself along the wall slowly and quietly in order to see behind the fire. There was a simple bed and a sack that was resting against it, but there was no sign of anyone.
He walked back quietly to the others and lowered his voice to a whisper. “There’s no-one there right now,” he informed them, “but whoever’s staying here could come back at any minute.”
“Hey,” Emily added, in the same hushed tone, “There’s another door there.” She was pointing to the other side of the room. Jim had been concentrating on the fire and didn’t notice it. It was another dark passage.
“Wait here,” Jim ordered. “All of you.”
He went to the fire and grasped one of the burning branches. Holding it aloft he made for the other doorway, leaving the remaining three of his group behind.
The passage beyond the doorway sloped upwards and gradually turned to the left. He followed it right to the top, where it straightened and then entered another room. As he had neared it, another light came into view, not firelight as before. No, this was a constant natural light. He could feel the faint hint of a breeze on his face and the air felt fresher. He took a lung full of it, letting the sweet air refresh him. As the corridor entered a space beyond there appeared a barrier made of concrete and it reached up to his hips. He clambered over it, entering another room where there was another door opposite. There was no missing this entrance - it was wide and open. Beyond it streamed light from the sun and the sky was deep and blue.

***

He had mixed feelings. For the last few years he had looked upon his father with disdain. The old man was clearly mad and he had tried to drag Daniel likewise into that same insanity. Daniel had refused once he was old enough to determine his own destiny and the breaking away had been a hard, long and difficult process.
It was not always that way. There was a time when he looked up to his father. He was an enigma that the son wanted to unravel. People had their views about him, but Daniel wanted to make up his own mind. So, when he was fifteen, he was taken out onto the plain despite the protestations of his mother. He’d wanted to go. He wanted to know all about what drove the strange man.
They walked out there, talking about those very things. He learnt of the legacy of his family. For the last two hundred years or so there was one of his ancestors here, making this very walk. They would instruct their sons in the Way and so it would continue, generation after generation. Now it was his turn.
“You may be keen now,” his father cautioned, “but later… Daniel, there is a choice that you will have to make some day. You can’t make it now - it has to be at the crossroads of your life. One day I’ll be gone, and the Task will fall to you. Then you will make the choice.”
That made sense, he had thought, it has to be when there is no one else but me to do it, and then the choice will mean something.
He grew older and perhaps wiser, and things happen as they do. Tragedy happens to all kinds of people under the sun, good and bad - and to Daniel it came. After he had gone through it he’d lost all interest in things, save only the bottle. His father had tried to step in but Daniel said things that day that could not be taken back. He left the plot and the security of home, choosing the house in the village. He would not return and he would not speak to his father again.
Then his father came to the house one morning. Daniel had been drinking all night and well into the morning. He was not in the state, or the mood, to see visitors, but his father sidestepped such conventions. He was dying, Daniel had seen him months earlier from a distance, now close up he looked worse. One last time to the stairs, he pleaded. Take this one last trip with me. By the time the old man had left Daniel was committed to one last act of insanity. I’ll expect you when the time comes…
That was four weeks ago and here he was today, standing on the hill overlooking the plain with the Stairs and the Tower behind him. That ‘one last time’ proved to be quite an ordeal.
He went to the farm and collected his father. Joanna watched them both from the doorway as they started down the road that would lead around the village and to the plain. He turned and waved to her before they went out of sight but she did not return it. Daniel knew that his mother was sure she would not see the old man again.
The storm had passed several hours prior but the hard ground of the plain did not accept its offering. The ground had already started to dry from the morning sun, but it would be several hours before the bigger puddles that refused to be soaked into the ground would disappear. Ignoring all around them they began their long trek across the featureless plain to their destination.
From the very beginning Daniel had grave doubts about his father stamina. This would not be a journey from which he would return, but with each passing hour it was becoming clear that it might just be a trip his father would not even complete. After two hours of walking Samuel’s steps began to falter, but he would not accept help. He trudged on with his head drooped down and his breaths coming in ragged gasps.
Ahead, the dry river appeared as a fracture of the landscape. Just to there, he thought, if I could just get him out of the sun…
Samuel could no longer refuse his son’s help. There was no way that the old man could have climbed down into the small ravine without assistance. Samuel stumbled weakly to the other bank and waited for assistance to climb the other side but his son stood back and shook his head.
“We’ll rest here a bit.”
“No,” his father disagreed, “we need to keep going.”
“You won’t make it without a rest. You look terrible.”
They went no further. Daniel pulled the thick sheet from his pack and laid it over the top of the rift that the stream had cut through the land. He placed rocks on the edges to keep the sheeting there and laid his father down in the shade that it provided. His skin had lost the yellow tinge that he had remembered, instead it was a sickly grey colour, but his eyes had retained their sallow appearance.
The sun was high and his belly was empty. Daniel took out some of the food he had packed and offered it to his father. They ate quietly, Daniel had nothing to say and his father was feeling unwell. When they had finished, the old man laid down his head and slept.
It was time to leave. Daniel had driven a stick into the hard earth and waited for the shadow to become a certain length. The dark line stretched past the line in the sand he had drawn and it was time to wake his father.
He hadn’t moved from the position where he’d laid down hours ago and now his breathing was shallower and had become more laboured. Daniel couldn’t move him now, the man couldn’t walk. And so they waited there together through the rest of the day. The old man was slowly slipping away and his son was forced to watch it. When the sun had descended behind the mountains and darkness crept upon the plain, Daniel rugged his father up as best he could and tried to get some sleep himself, huddled in against the old man for warmth, but he was as cold as winter.
Finally morning came and with it the warming sun. Daniel was bitterly cold and had slept fitfully if at all, but his father remained alive - he had survived the night. The old man breathed on, but it was clear that this would not be the case for long.
It was only a short time later that Samuel breathed his last. Daniel felt relief, not only for his father, who had struggled all his life with his duty, but also for himself. With the passing of his father, so the Task would pass to him and with it, the Choice. No, he decided, I won’t come back here. This all ends here, today, with my father. He would not waste his life like his predecessors. He would make his own way.
He wrapped his father in the sheeting and left him in the ditch they had shared. The sun was still low in the east and so he took the opportunity to regain some of the lost sleep from the night before. He woke a while later and set about putting his father to rest.
For the remainder of the day, Daniel carried the wasted body of his father over the intervening distance between the river and The Stairs. It was not an easy task. Disease had taken a good proportion of weight off Samuel’s body but even so he was unbearably heavy after only a few minutes. Still he struggled on over the rocky landscape, each step closer to the final moment of freedom.
The sun was approaching the mountains to the west when he arrived at the hill that stood before The Stairs. In front of him the round stone building sat resolute on the top of the hill. Behind it still, the tower loomed, watching over it silently. He dropped his father momentarily, looking for the hidden path between the short thorny trees that lined the hill. With a groan of effort and also of relief he laid his father down as gently as he could onto the ground in front of The Stairs. He sat down beside Samuel and rested for a time, planning his next move.
He sat there, staring at his father’s body, still wrapped in the sheeting, for the remainder of the day and all of the next. There were many thoughts going through his mind, but in the end he was reluctant to end things as it would mean moving on. Though he greatly desired it, now at its threshold he was afraid of taking the step. Burying Samuel would mean his old life was over, and his new one had begun. 
Finally he dragged the symbol of his past out into the morning sun and looked for a suitable place to lay it at rest. He had no digging implements and it would be pointless in trying to dig a grave, the ground was far too hard for such a task. The sun was descending into the afternoon sky when he started. He’d been procrastinating all day, but he didn’t want to leave it again another night. There were rocks - many, many rocks - and it took a long time to completely cover the shrouded figure.
When he was done he looked up to the sky. The sun was just disappearing beyond the mountains to the west and the sky was darkening quickly. Above him the heavens had become a deep, deep blue and there was a faint breeze from the north. He closed his eyes and allowed the wind to cool his skin, hot and sweaty from the exertion.
He was standing there, his eyes closed and his mind far away when he heard something. He ignored it at first because it should have been impossible. When he heard it again he was forced to change his view and react. Slowly he turned his head and looked behind him. There, standing some twenty paces away, in front of the open door to The Stairs, was a man.

Standing taller than any person Daniel had ever seen - a good head and shoulders above the tallest in Watchers village, the stranger stood with his arms out in supplication. His features were severe, with a shaven head, dirty face and three or four days of stubble that added only to his startling appearance. The most remarkable thing about him, the thing that drew Daniel’s attention right away, was just above his right eye. There was a ragged, unhealed cut - red and angry, that defined his condition – having the look of a man who had travelled hard and was not the better of it. Dressed like no man he had ever seen, he wore thin white pants now dirty grey and black around the knees with a dark, thick jacket of a material Daniel had never seen before.
He stood open and relaxed, with his hands out in front showing he had nothing in them and there was a smile on his face. After several moments the man stepped forward and Daniel stepped back reflexively, almost falling over his father’s grave.
This is the greeting we will use; it works in any occasion to any person. After I say it, you will try. Ready? Hello.
They had been working in the field some distance from the house, pulling weeds from the earth and leaving the small, tender plants intact. He’d said he would be teaching the young boy the old tongue and he would be starting with the greeting. Daniel had said it correctly, making his father smile and say: “well done.” Now he heard that word again, not from his father’s dead lips, but from the mouth of this stranger:
“Hello.”
Daniel’s blood ran cold. He was here this stranger, in this place, and he was using a tongue that had not been spoken popularly for many hundreds of years. He said something that no one else but he and the Judges of this land should be able to say.
The newcomer must have seen the look of horror on Daniel’s face and stopped his advance. He put both of his hands up to show they were empty but Daniel was still not convinced.
Daniel took a stone from the grave behind him and prepared to hurl it at the potential threat should it be required.
“Take it easy, mate,” the stranger said, keeping his voice low and even, obviously trying to present himself as affable as possible. “I’m not going to hurt you. Do you understand me?”
Daniel did understand, all too well. He was starting to recover from the shock of seeing this stranger with intimate knowledge of the old tongue. All the tales he had been told in the past were starting to come true, today. No, he disagreed with own assessment of the situation, this is crazy! They were just the ranting of a crazy old man – of a lot of crazy all men. This isn’t what it looks like.
He stood up straight, ready to meet the stranger head on. “I understand you,” he said evenly, “Who are you? Where do you come from?”
The stranger smiled. “I’m Jim. I came from there.” He pointed back to the open doorway to the stairs. Impossibly, another piece of the puzzle fell into place.
Daniel gasped, “From the Stairs?”
“You could say that,” Jim replied and he raised his eyebrows, making the cut over his eye look even angrier.
“Are you a Sleeper?” Daniel asked, hoping that he would hear what he was expecting.
The man did not answer right away; he seemed to be thinking carefully about his response. He smiled after a few seconds and replied: “Sure, why not? Now, how about you drop that rock and we talk about it?”
Not likely. I don’t know you. The rock remained in the young man’s hand firmly.
“You know my name, what’s yours?” Jim asked, continuing to keep his hands in sight.
“Daniel.”
“So Daniel...” he looked back at the building behind him, “what is this place?”
“I said it before: The Stairs.”
“That’s right. You did say that.” Jim lowered his voice, “I’m not here to hurt you, Daniel. You don’t need the rock, honestly. Look, I’m unarmed. What do you say?”
Daniel slowly brought his arm down, lowering the rock in his hand. The man who called himself Jim didn’t seem dangerous, but he did look injured and there was just the remnant of desperation about his stance. But desperate men do desperate things sometimes. He would keep a close eye on this man.
“You’re here alone, aren’t you Daniel?”
Daniel narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Maybe I am.”
“I’ve seen your bed. You’re alone.” The stranger turned back to the doorway, still speaking to Daniel. “I’m not alone though, there are four of us.” He called to The Stairs, to his unseen compatriots.
Daniel stepped back as three others appeared out of the doorway. They were dressed the same as the first one: the same dirty, white, thin clothes. Jim seemed to be the oldest, being slightly younger than Daniel’s own father and the remainder of them descended in age from there. There were two other men, one of them roughly Daniel’s age and the other much older. The older one was a big man, dark skinned and as bald as Jim, the younger fairer and taller than both of the others. The last person on the hill was obviously female judging by her form. She was slightly shorter than either of the two but easily taller than anyone Daniel had seen before today. She was bald too, her hair having been shaved off days ago. Already there was a hint of regrowth on her head, but somehow it did not detract from her beauty. She was young and vibrant, he could see that by the disarming smile she wore, but despite her exterior he could see fear and just a hint of sadness. Her fair skin gleamed in the afternoon light despite the layer of grime that covered her.
The arrival of the other three had unsettled him, “What do you want from me?” he asked, backing off again.
Jim smiled. “I said I mean you no harm and that goes for the rest of us. Do they look dangerous? Really, we’re more afraid of you than you are of us.”
The young woman, barely older than Daniel himself, had walked up and was standing behind Jim expectantly, if not slightly fearful, she had questions on her face.  “Well?” 
Jim looked over his shoulder to the girl, “He says his name’s Daniel.”
“Daniel?” She craned her neck around and sized him up.
“That’s what he said.” Jim looked back to where the other two men remained. “He also says this place is called ‘The Stairs’.”
She frowned for just a moment then a slight smile began to form on her lips. “Good name.” Although she had relaxed some, she still remained behind her friend, looking around him. 
More questions: “Excuse me, Daniel,” she started, painfully polite, “What date is it today?”
Date…? He had heard the word, his father had used it once, but it had no meaning to him. “I am sorry,” he said, his face frowning with confusion, “I do not understand.”
“What date is it? What year?” She pressed.
Daniel shook his head. Everyone knew what a year was, but ‘what year’? 
Jim had been watching Daniels face closely, a when he saw that there was some element of confusion, put his hand on the woman’s shoulder, halting her inquiry. 
They spoke words that Daniel understood, sure, but these people spoke way too fast. He was having real trouble translating what they had said before the next sentence arrived. More than that, they asked strange questions that made no sense at all.
“Maybe we should go back inside and talk.” Jim was gesturing back to the doorway which was starting to darken with the disappearing light. “The sun’s gone down and it’s getting dark. We should rest out the night inside. What do you think?” He looked back at Daniel, his face showing the same friendly expression as when he had first met him.
Daniel felt obliged to move, the question was still hanging in the air and he nodded to answer it. Dropping the stone he had held all this time he took some steps toward the two in front of him. Jim took the girl by the arm and started to lead the way up the short hill to the doorway.
“These people are my friends, Daniel. This lovely young lady with the questions is Emily…” He had reached the doorway and the other two. “…the young man is Lewis…”
Lewis smiled and nodded. He didn’t speak.
“…and finally…” Jim continued, almost without taking a breath, “…the big fellow is Sammy.”
Sammy bowed slightly and politely. “Hello,” he said disarmingly, seemingly aware his appearance could be overwhelming.
Jim motioned to the doorway. “Shall we?”
Lewis held one of Daniel’s branches taken from his fire from down below. It was starting to splutter in the slight breeze and from its dismemberment from the heat of the fire. Lewis led the way, entering the doorway, where his fire guided their way down to the campsite.

At the bottom of the ramp he was shocked to see the doorway to the underworld wide open. He shouldn’t have been surprised, really. They did have to come from somewhere and despite his original discounting of their claims the evidence was stacking up against his original impression. The door that stood impervious to time and all of the cajoling of men and sons past, now stood open with the space beyond it as black as night.
The four of them were standing by the fire in a tight huddle and talking amongst themselves in urgent whispers. Sound carried reasonably well even with the ever present crackle of the fire and he could hear most of what they were saying. Keeping his eyes on the open doorway, Daniel tried to listen to their fast, unrelenting speech. There was a relaxed tone to it, something Daniel had not experienced in the stilted, formal structure his father had taught him. 
“He is a very cautious fellow, isn’t he?” Daniel felt the big man’s sidelong glance as he spoke quietly.
Jim clucked under his breath. “Well, take a look at us, you kind of look scary, my friend.”
“That big scar on your face isn’t too pretty either,” the young man added.
“Hey, you two,” the woman interjected, placing a gentle hand on their shoulders. “We need the supplies up here, and the fire needs…” She searched for the word, “… stoking? I’m going to talk to our new friend.”
She was standing right next to him when she spoke again, this time in full voice. He turned slowly to face her. “You don’t mind sharing your fire?”
“You came from down there?” Daniel gasped, watching Jim and the young man Lewis, disappear into the blackness. They returned moments later with a heavy box in each of their arms.
“Yes,” she replied quietly. “We’ve been down there three days I think. I didn’t think we were going to make it. Now we’ve found you I think…”
He interrupted her. “How did you open the door?”
“We found a key.” She explained. “We’ve found food and water too, so we won’t be taking any of yours.” She smiled as the men passed them a second time carrying identical boxes. “You’re welcome to share what we’ve got.”
The fire flared up, lighting up the room. Sammy was next to it, stoking it with more branches that Daniel had laid next to the hearth when he had first arrived that same afternoon. Next to the fire the boxes, now numbering four, were being stacked. They were not made of wood as he would have expected. It was a thinner material, flexible and grey in colour. Another two arrived and were stacked onto the pile, making six.
He turned back to the young woman. “Emily?” She nodded and he asked another question: “Jim said you are The Sleepers. Are you?”
“Sleepers?” she started. Her eyes widened with surprise. “How did you know…?”
Her reaction confirmed it. “You were expected,” he declared cryptically, not allowing Emily the time to ask him to elaborate, walking over to the collection of boxes, now numbering eight. “What is this?” he asked her.
“Food,” Jim answered, pulling a large knife from the white sack that he had discarded by the large, open door.
“You said you were not armed!” Daniel accused him, stepping back defensively.
“I wasn’t at the time. Anyway, if I wanted to hurt you I’d have done it by now.” Jim was slicing the top of the box open unceremoniously with the knife. Next to him Emily was doing a similar action, pulling a long, thin piece of material from a box of her own. 
They’d gone through all of them, getting them open and placing a sample of each of their contents on the top. Half of them had shiny metal cylinders inside them and the others held impossible containers of liquid. The water was in bottles you could see all the way through. Lewis had taken one of them and was doing just that. He had another bottle in his other hand that contained a reddish- brown liquid that you could definitely not see through.
“Have you seen what we’ve been drinking?” Lewis said, his face showing his disgust.
“Stop whining…” Emily answered him without looking up from her task of sorting shiny things, “… you’re not dead are you?”
Lewis threw the bottle of the dark water over his shoulder and it bounced once then hit the opposite wall, rolling to stop soon after.
Jim had his knife against the flat top of one of the cylinders. Sammy and Emily looked on as he prepared to hammer the knife into the object, both of their faces showing their trepidation.
“Is that the best way to do that?” Sammy asked, wincing.
“Have you got a tin opener on you I didn’t know about?” Jim pulled the knife away, lining up his target.
“No.”
“Then this is the way I’m going to do it. I just hope I don’t cut off a hand by mistake.”
“Ah huh…” Emily agreed, closing her eyes.
Jim hammered down the knife onto the top of the metal object twice and the second time pierced it. “Anyone wants to bet what’s in this?” he asked.
“Beans,” Sammy declared with a sigh, “it has to be beans. I hate beans.”
Jim opened four of the objects he’d called ‘tins’ before confirming Sammy’s fears. Once the whole line of them was opened and they’d washed their hands with some of the water from another of the boxes, the newcomers started to extract food from them. They seemed surprised it was edible and after a sample they eagerly consumed the remainder. Daniel took a small amount as well when offered - finding the texture and flavour strange and remarkable. He only took a sample, preferring the food he had brought from home.
Jim was fishing the last of an orange fruit he named ‘peach’ from a tin when he turned to Emily. “You’ve still got that list?” he asked her, then slipped the fruit into his mouth.
She passed it to him, this ‘list’. It was white, thin and square, made of a tough substance Daniel had never seen before. There were scribbles on its face, on both sides, which Jim examined carefully. Writing it was - such writing only a selection of the known world knew as it had fallen into disuse for the general population long ago. Samuel didn’t know how to read and hence had never taught Daniel to either.
“Lewis,” Jim said to the young man sitting at the opposite side of the fire, “we’ve got a job to do.” Then he turned to Daniel. “I’ll need a torch, something that’ll burn for while.”
Daniel knew what he needed. He reluctantly took from his sack a pottery bottle of oil and soaked it into a piece of cloth taken from one of the sheets the newcomers had brought up with them. Wrapping the material around the end of a branch from the wood pile and lit it from the fire. It burnt slowly and steadily.
“How long will it burn for?” Jim asked.
Daniel shrugged. “A short time…”
“We’d better get on then.”
“Where’re you going?” Emily asked, suddenly concerned that he was returning to the darkness. 
“Downstairs,” Jim explained, “back to the stores. There’s something we need.” She wanted to know what it was, but all Jim would say was: “You’ll see.”
They headed back through the door into the dark interior with their voices echoing down the passage behind them.
“Why do you need me?” Lewis was asking.
“I need you to carry back what we’re getting.” Jim replied.
Then they were gone.

“Daniel?” She was standing over him while he was going through his sack. He looked up to her smiling face. “Can I ask you something?”
He nodded and with his permission she sat next to him on his bed. “Remember outside, when I asked you what year it was?” He nodded again. “We’re a little, like, mixed up you see? We don’t know how long we’ve been sleeping. That’s why I asked.” She tilted her head a little. “You don’t number your years?”
“Most people where I come from do not read or write,” Daniel explained. “I do not. We are not allowed to dwell on the past or to learn anything that is beyond our place. We are farmers, so numbering a year means nothing to us. We might say ‘last year’ or ‘ten years ago’ but as to what number…” He shrugged.
She narrowed her eyes, seemingly digesting what Daniel had said. “How long have you been coming here?”
“Two hundred years,” the young man replied, “or so my father said.”
Sammy, who’d been silent all this time whistled in surprise.
She raised her eyebrows at the news. “Your father came here too?” she asked him.
“And his father… and his before him, and so on…”
“I see…” Emily sat back and bit her lip in thought. “You don’t talk about the past then?”
Daniel rolled his eyes, back to his family again. “My father did - all the time. He would be the one to ask all these questions - only you are two days too late.”
“Oh?” She’d leaned forward.
“I buried him today, outside on the hill. He is under that pile of rocks.”
Emily’s eyes opened wide and then her face softened. “I’m sorry. Here we are asking you questions and invading your space… your father died, I’m sorry.”
“We were not close.” He said it like he meant it, perhaps it was self defence. It was only yesterday when Samuel died but Daniel was already starting to feel guilty for the past.
 
***

Emily woke with a start. It was dark, and for a moment she thought she was back down in cold darkness below: alone, thirsty, hungry and moments from death. She blinked, slowly focusing her eyes. Her head was on its side facing a fire, now down to red embers. Beside her she could see the inert forms of her companions sleeping at the fire’s side.
She pulled her blanket back and sat up stretching. That was the best sleep she’d had in days. Blanket…? Oh, yes, blankets. Last night Jim and Lewis had disappeared back down to the storehouse with a mystery task and returned with blankets. She’d been given two of them, laying one down on the hard floor and dragged the other over her. The insulation of the thick material and the comforting warmth of the camp fire contributed to the blissful slumber she had received.
She rose, moved over to the fireside and stirred it back into life. There were still coals in the heart and once additional branches from the pile were added, the fire grew in intensity.
She surveyed the camp, finding Sammy and Lewis still asleep but the other two were absent. She was now more confident of her surroundings, so it was easy for her to return to the world above, negotiating her way in the semi-dark. At the top of the long ramp upwards there was a barrier of concrete blocks that had been hastily erected long in the past and she climbed over them slowly, still feeling the effects of her previous ordeal. The sun was up, she could see it streaming through the open doorway, and the sky was a brilliant blue. She had no idea how long she’d slept, being underground made her perception of time somewhat indistinct.  Perhaps now, under the sun and sky, it would return to her.
It was obviously morning. The air was cool with a slight hint of the heat that the day would bring. She had chosen not to put on her sorry example for boots, deciding to face the new day without them. When bare feet once again touched the earth, dry and dusty, she looked down at them. They were dirty, scratched and bruised but the sensations long forgotten by her senses made them feel alive again.
Jim was within sight, to the left and down the hill a little. He was making some attempt to clean the healing wound on his head with some of their water. The extravagance of the activity was immaterial. They still had plenty of the bottles and there was an almost limitless supply below in the storehouse.
“Good morning,” she said, and went and sat next to him as he worked. She looked out over the scene before her. She hadn’t really taken it in last evening, paying more attention to their new friend.
“Finally up?”
Hello! “How’s the head?”
Jim dabbed tenderly with a strip of sheet soaked in clean water. “Still sore but I think it’s getting better.”
She pushed his hand away. “Let me see…” When he turned his head she made her appraisal. “Yeah, looks better. You really needed sewing up, oh well. It’s come together so I think it’ll be okay.”
“Thanks.”
“I wouldn’t have made it without you there, so I should be thanking you.”
Jim put the cap on the water bottle, his job done. “Well…” he said, looking over at Daniel who was standing by the pile of rocks some thirty paces away. “…now we have to rely on our new friend here. He’s fragile, so we better treat him very carefully. I have the feeling this is a strange new world we’re in and he’s our only connection to it.” He turned his head to the rising sun. “Now… how about some breakfast?”

The contents of some of the tins at least satisfied some of the hunger they were feeling that morning. After they had eaten and cleared the empty tins by putting them further down into the installation, they began to discuss returning to the storehouse to collect additional supplies. Daniel had returned a short time after Jim and Emily and sat down to eat the food from his sack, a sort of yellow coloured bread that smelt somewhat like cinnamon. When he was done, their new friend started to gather his belongings into his sack. It was clear he was getting ready to leave.
Jim joined him at the fireside. “Are you going somewhere, my friend,” he asked pointedly.
“I am going home.” He stood, lifting his sack to hoist over his shoulder. “It was good to meet you.” 
“I was hoping we could go with you, to your home.”
Daniel had his sack over his shoulder and he was shaking his head. “Oh, that would not be such a good idea. There would be too many questions and I do not have any answers to them.”
“We can answer any question they have.”
“There are only two people in this area who can speak the old way. One of them is me, and the other – he is one you do not want to talk to.”
Jim’s turned his head to the side. He had questions for the young man preparing to leave. “Why are you here, Daniel?”
“I came here to bury my father.”
“But why here. Here you are, in the very place we turn up, at the right time and you tell Emily ‘we were expected’. We were supposed to be met here, weren’t we, Daniel? It was supposed to be your father, but it ended up being you.”
“That does not matter now. He is gone, and I did what I promised him. I came here one last time with him. And I made my choice. Now I get to live my life.”
“You sound like you’re running away.” Jim moved to block his exit. “What are you running from?”
“I was to be free of all this.” He sat back down on the bed. “I was told I had a choice and I chose to walk away. He knew. He knew that I could not be free of it. Now you are here and everything has changed. I can never be free now.”
Emily had joined them, walking quietly over. She placed her hand gently on Daniel’s shoulder. “You’ve got a reason for your life,” she told him. “I never had one. I used to do the things I wanted, the things that were fun and interested me but in the end they didn’t mean anything. None of those things are any use to me now. But you…” She looked him in the eye. “…you’ve got something. You’re here for a reason. You have to be. Like how else would we have met here?”
She frowned, something had come to mind. “What did your father say would happen after the Sleepers arrive? What do we do next?”
Daniel looked up at Jim expectantly. “The Sleepers will know what to do. They will give further instructions.”
They all followed his gaze to Jim, waiting for him to speak, but he said nothing. Finally Sammy leaned over and half whispered to him: “So then, what are these ‘further instructions’”.
Jim made a face. “Why is everyone looking at me? I haven’t got a clue.”

Chapter Seven

The sun rose slowly in the east casting long shadows of the five moving individuals on the long, dry plain. Ahead Daniel strode quickly, his long woven jacket trailing behind with the breeze that came from the north. Jim was just behind, trying to keep up the pace. He wanted to talk more with their guide but at present found it difficult to frame his questions. He was slightly out of breath and unable to voice them. Emily and Lewis were further back, talking amongst themselves perhaps fifty steps behind, and easily matching Daniel’s pace. Sammy limped behind the two young people, lost in his thoughts as he had been for the last two days. His head was down and he was concentrating on these inner musings, looking up intermittently to ensure he keep the course that Daniel set.
Yesterday the five had debated leaving their seclusion at The Stairs. Daniel had argued the need to leave. He had a mother who was waiting – expecting him to return alone, no doubt growing more anxious with every passing hour - and there was work to be done in the family farm. Jim had persuaded them all of the need to wait one more day. None of the newcomers had adequate clothing or boots sufficient for the journey across the plain and they had other things they needed as well.
Armed with torches provided by their new friend, the men descended back to the storage areas. Using the list Lewis had found the day earlier, they began to search for the items that were deemed necessary. Emily remained – she volunteered to ‘keep an eye on Daniel’.
It seemed like hours later when they had managed to arrange a large pile of supplies at the base of the upper supply level. What was of great relief to the party was the location of clothing, packed in the standard sealed plastic bags and still in very good condition. There was some searching required to locate the correct sizes and when found, the men used water from their stocks to wash away the grime of the last three days and then changed into dark blue utilities they had appropriated. The old boots that Jim and Lewis were wearing were discarded in favour of new, well fitting and clean items with intact laces. 
Although none of the boxes were labelled usefully, with enough searching they were able to locate a more varied range of food. Jim made up four backpacks filled with edible supplies, additional clothing and useful items. By the time their torches were starting to fade out the party were well equipped and on their way back up to the campfire on the ground level. Emily had given them her size and they handed her a pack with clothes that would fit her. She sent them up top while she cleaned up and changed, emerging into the light clean and dressed, smiling and happy.
Daniel looked on in surprise as the four were now dressed identically and carrying packs fully laden with supplies. They put their bags on the floor near where they had been sleeping, extracted some items of food and began to prepare to eat their evening meal. Jim had not waited - he’d dropped his pack off and continued on up to the surface. Looking up at the sky he made a guess at the time, set the new watch that was now on his left wrist and wound it. Taking a deep breath of evening air, he returned downstairs for his evening meal.
Daniel stood back and watched them eat again with new items on the menu. “There is all this food down there?” he asked, bewildered.
“Lots more than this,” Lewis replied between mouthfuls. “We still don’t know what’s down there yet.” 
Daniel looked back, his face distorted with confusion. “But it is your world,” he remarked, “this is where you came from. You do not know anything about this place?”
Emily knew what he was getting at. “We know some things. We know this is was once an army base. There are dead soldiers down there and they’ve been there a long time. Somehow we ended up here – we became the ‘Sleepers’ that you’ve been waiting for. And there are lots more of us still down there – thousands, Jim thinks - all asleep like we were.” Somewhere in her explanation she handed Lewis a tin. “Try the gherkins,” she suggested, “they’re not bad at all.”
Jim took something out of his pack and walked over to where the others were talking. “There’s a lot more than food down there, Daniel,” he added. “There are all sorts of things…” He handed the short, young man what he’d taken from his pack. “This is a compass,” he explained. “It always points north. This is mighty handy in finding your way.” He waved away the need for the compass to be returned. He had more than one.
They’d slept well that night, being much more comfortable now their stomachs were full and satisfied. Jim awoke first and looked at his watch. Groaning, he climbed out between his two blankets, put on his boots and stoked up the fire. Daniel was awake next - the noises of Jim’s activity had disturbed him. The other three needed to be gently shaken and took much longer to rise. It was six in the morning – or so he had determined - and he took his breakfast to the surface to watch the sun rise over the hills to the east of their home.
They took little time packing. Daniel had his sack filled the night before and only took moments to collect his final items. The others were ready to go. After Jim closed the door with the red band, and the noise of it sealing shut died down, they slung the packs over their shoulders and headed up the ramp to the surface, following their guide as he led them down the hill through the sharp, thorned bushes and onto the plain.

Jim pulled the cap on his head off briefly to wipe the sweat away from his forehead. The salty liquid was running through the healing wound from his shaven head and it was now throbbing intensely. Replacing his cap he jogged up ahead to catch Daniel who was now further ahead than Jim wanted.
He was still several paces behind when he called ahead. “Hey.”
Daniel kept walking, barely recognising Jim’s presence. 
He was puffing as he caught the guide, asking: “This walk takes a day, right?”
“That is right - mostly anyway. We will need to take a break half-way.”
“You carried your dying father all that distance?” he asked, impressed by the feat.
Daniel pointed out ahead, into the hazy distance. “No, only from the river, over there... It took me most of the day to move him.” 
Jim stroked the growing stubble on his chin and quietly muttered to himself: “One day more...”
“What?” Daniel asked, confused. “What are you talking about?”
“Let me see if I get this right,” Jim thought aloud. “If you’d come here normally it would take you a day to get to the Installation, right? How long would you ordinarily wait?”
“When I came with my father we waited only a day, then we went home.”
“Right…!” Jim suddenly felt pleased with himself. Something that had been on his mind, indistinct – and now it was coming into focus. “So, after two days you’d have been gone. It took me and the others three days to get out. We’d have missed you entirely on a normal trip. This time, after carrying your father all that way across this plain, you were there three days – and you were there in time to meet us.”
Daniel seemed to be thinking this over as he walked along in silence, then he spoke, his voice thick with regret. “My father came to me and persuaded me to come. If I had not then there would have been no one to meet you. I was never going to come back – this trip was the last time. He seemed very determined that we both needed to go – we had to go.”
“If you’d just walked over, waited and left, then we’d be stuck not knowing anyone or anything. Your father forcing you to come - and the delay that bringing him with you - all came together so that we’ve met. I think that’s the point I’m trying to make.”

In all that talking, Daniel’s pace had slacked some. “You think too much,” he accused, then quickened his steps again. “There river is still some distance ahead, we had better get there before the sun gets too high.”
Jim kept up with him for a time but eventually started to drop back. The young man had nothing else to say and the air around them became awkward in silence. It was quiet on the plain. Only the sounds of their boots on the dry, hard earth could be heard and the occasional whistle of the breeze past their ears. Jim couldn’t tolerate it for long and began to slow until he’d stopped entirely.
Ahead there was no indication of a river. The land continued on, mostly flat and lifeless right up to the hills that shimmered far off at the end of the plain. Already Daniel’s figure was blending into the wavering air and he now appeared almost as a ghost, a mirage. Jim turned. The two youngsters were twenty paces away and closing. They offered a weak smile each as they passed but didn’t speak. Further back, Sammy limped painfully, dropping behind with each step.
Jim wanted to talk to him so he waited, dropping his pack to the ground and taking out a bottle of water. He spread some of the warm liquid over his scalp and neck after emptying some of the bottle’s contents down his throat.
“You going to make it?” he called out to the big man struggling along.
He wasn’t out of breath, he just had pain. Sammy reached his side and stopped. He bent down and massaged his knee.
Jim took the lid off his bottle again and passed it under his friend’s nose.
“Thanks,” Sammy said, standing again, taking the bottle of water and drinking his fill. They stood there for several minutes, looking about at the desolation with only their slow breathing to hear.
Finally Jim spoke, voicing the conclusions he had come to after speaking to their guide. He said more to Sammy than he did to Daniel, as he wasn’t sure the young man would understand. Jim looked towards where they were going, past the two people already fading into the haze, to Daniel striding far ahead.  “Do you ever get the feeling that you’re just a puppet and someone else is pulling the strings?”
“I believe God directs the feet of the saints,” Sammy replied, smiling and putting the cap back on the bottle, handing it back to its owner.
“I’m no saint, Sammy, and that’s not what I meant.”
“What’s on your mind?” he asked, adjusting the weight of the pack that was slung over his back. There was nothing on Sammy’s face to indicate he was following any of Jim’s thoughts.
“Ah…” he sighed, “nothing I guess. It’s just that everything seems to come together too neatly for me - like it’s all planned, but maybe that’s going too far. Daniel says we’d have been completely missed on any other trip here, only this time we weren’t – because his father was along making sure that this trip was made. I don’t think he had any idea that we’d be here but still it’s a little too convenient for me.”
“You think too much.”
“That’s what Daniel said,” Jim confessed, nodding over to the rapidly shrinking figure.
“I think whatever is going on here that we don’t understand will come clear in time. You’ve got to be patient. It’ll work out – it has so far.”
“Our luck could change.”
“You started talking about ‘divine intervention’ and end with luck. Which are you going for?”
“Either, both, I don’t know.” Jim could see that their guide had all but disappeared. “We’d better get going or we’re going to lose him.”

The sun was high overhead when Daniel vanished. One moment he was there and the next, not. Lewis and Emily stopped abruptly, looking ahead with uncertainty over the correct direction, waiting for Jim and Sammy to catch up.
“Why have we stopped?” Jim asked when they were only steps away.
“Daniel’s gone,” she explained, trying to make out the figure walking ahead.
Sammy was asking the obvious: “Where did he go?
She was concerned that they’d lost him and annoyed at the question. She answered him tartly: “How should I know?”
Daniel’s footprints drew a straight line into the distance, off towards where he’d disappeared. Jim kept walking, following the trail. The others came behind him. They didn’t ask how he knew. The answer to that question was at their feet. The hot sun was making concentration difficult and what seemed obvious now it had been pointed out had seemed less so moments before.
“How’s the knee?” Emily was asking Sammy.
“I think I twisted it again yesterday moving those boxes. I’ll be okay though.”
Lewis jogged to the front with his finger pointing out ahead, “There he is!” he exclaimed.
Daniel had reappeared not too far ahead. He was waiting for them with his arms folded over his chest. The river he’d mentioned wasn’t too far away. They were almost there.
It took them five minutes to reach the point where Daniel was standing. Behind him was a very narrow river bed, as deep as a man standing and five paces wide. When he was sure they’d seen him, he set himself to work stretching a covering over the gap, providing shade to the space below. 
They stopped at the edge of the south bank and watched their new friend jump into the gap, sheltering himself in the shade. The river was dry and had obviously been so for quite a long time. His voice came from under the sheet he’d erected. “We’ll rest here while the sun’s high.”
Emily wasn’t thinking about rest. “Lunch time,” she declared, joining Daniel under the shelter. “I’m starving.”
Lewis was next, then Jim. He waited at the bottom to help Sammy down the bank - who landed a little awkwardly and winced when his feet hit the river floor. His knee jarred on impact. He hobbled painfully over to the makeshift camp, bent under it and found a place to sit with his back against the warm earth of the bank.
Jim looked up at the sky, shielding his eyes from the sun, and then down to his watch. “How long will we wait here?” he asked.
Coming out with a stick in his hand, Daniel drove it into the ground outside the tent. He made a mark in the sand half a hand’s span away. Jim watched him mark the ground and understood the meaning of it. He nodded to Daniel as he passed back into the shade.
He shrugging off his pack, he dropped it down against the bank wall and joined the others. Already they were extracting their lunch and were preparing to eat. Even under the shelter it was hot. Summer was on its way. The sheet over them billowed slightly in the warm breeze that blew from the south, a dry wind that kept the land parched and their throats in need of water.
Jim ate quickly and when he was done he laid himself back against the riverbank and closed his eyes. He was able to doze despite the heat and the sheen of sweat that had formed over his skin. The sound of the others quietly talking lulled him into the shallow sleep he desired.
Waking suddenly he sat upright, blinking, waiting for his eyes to focus. Lewis and Sammy were still sleeping. Emily and Daniel were awake and they were talking. He laid his head back down again and closed his eyes, listening to their voices.
“Say that again,” Emily was saying, “slower this time.”
Daniel spoke a phrase one word at a time, a strange collections of sounds. 
“That sounds really familiar,” she sounded intrigued, “there’s some English sounds in there and… something else – I’m not sure what yet. And that means ‘Hello, how are you today?’”
Daniel confirmed it and then he voiced a concern: “I think we are going to have a problem.”
At the mention of the word, Jim opened his eyes. “Problem…? What problem?” he asked.
“This ‘English’ we are using, it’s only spoken by the Judges. They do not know that I or my fathers’ before me could speak it and we have used that to our gain at times. We have never allowed them to know and we have never been quite sure what they would do if they found out our secret. They would never allow that to go on, I am sure. It would be best if you did not use this ‘English’ where it could be heard.”
Emily could see what was needed immediately. “We’d better learn how to talk like the locals - and fast!”
Jim pulled a face. He knew that it wouldn’t be easy. “I’ve never been good with languages,” he confessed.
Emily pulled off her dark blue, military-style cap and scratched the itchy stubble appearing on her scalp. “I don’t think it’s all that difficult to learn,” she mused. “There are some funny parts to it, but there are only sounds that we know. I think it’s based on English but I’ll need a little time to work it out.”
Jim chuckled. “I bet you didn’t think your studies would become this useful.”
He turned to the guide, “You’re right, Daniel. We’d better keep our heads down until we know what we’re going to do. We’ll keep quiet and look and learn.”
The young man didn’t answer. He’d stood and gazed out to the ground outside the tent where his sundial was situated. Satisfied of its reading he started to pack up his bag ready for travel. 
“Everything alright…?” Jim asked him, checking the shadow reading against the watch on his wrist. It was a little after two in the afternoon.
Daniel didn’t wait for formalities; he’d thrown his sack over the north bank causing dust to billow up in a cloud to be whisked away by the breeze. “It is time to go,” he told them bluntly, motioning to Lewis and Sammy – still asleep and blissfully unaware.
The camp was pulled down quickly whilst Emily woke those still slumbering. Jim helped fold the sheeting that had provided them with shade for the last three hours and between the two of them, they stuffed it into Daniel’s sack.
Blue and indistinct hills rose from the floor of the plain. Jim couldn’t judge the distance from his vantage point. “How far is it?” he asked, shielding his eyes from the light. The sun was still fairly high and their shadows sat at their feet like their essence was leaking out onto the sand.
Daniel shouldered his load and answered without looking to their destination. “Twenty clicks.”
Jim narrowed his eyes, realising at once what he’d heard. The others didn’t say anything, they’d missed it. “It’ll be dark when we get there,” he said judging the distance and the pace Daniel was likely to set.
Daniel already had their entry planned. “I do not want our arrival noticed. The people of my village will be indoors and having their evening meal when we arrive. This will be the best time.” He started on his way, marching off toward the hills and leaving them.
Lewis hurried after him. “Which way is it?” he asked, trying to see any evidence of the town ahead.  “I can’t see anything.”
The guide pointed ahead. “It is still a long way off, between those two hills. There is a valley… that is where we are going.”
Jim helped Sammy clamber up the northern bank and the three remaining travellers struggled to shoulder their packs. Already Daniel and Lewis had put some space between the two groups and it was growing with every step. 
Daniel called back to them over his shoulder. “We’ll need to stay together as we get closer to the hills. I don’t want to go looking for you in the dark.”

The temperature rose in the afternoon and the march to the hills became more difficult. It took five hours to reach the foothills and the sun had sunk below the western horizon and the air had become cooler. He kept them going at a decent pace and in the end the group had strung itself out into a long line with Sammy still some way behind. They were weary, footsore, hungry and dirty and were looking forward to a meal and a bed and were hoping neither was far off.
“I could take you the long way around to the farm – but I do not want to explain all this to my mother. It will be better to go to the house – for tonight at least. We are going to have to try and stay out of sight.” Daniel explained his plan before leading them up into the hills, through the short, stubby trees that grew in that region.
They reached a rise and then descended again into a small valley that held a collection of dwellings with warm cheery lights in their windows and the smell of cooking rising from their chimneys. There were people walking up and down the centre of the town – all dressed as Daniel was – they were talking and laughing amongst themselves – some pushing carts and some walking arm in arm. The four had an overwhelming feeling of safety – something that they had not experienced for many days. With this feeling came also exhaustion – which fell upon them like a wave upon the shore. Daniel must have been feeling the same as he dragged his feet down a small slope to the outskirts of the cluster of buildings, keeping out of sight as he went.
At the edge of the village he turned sharply to the right and moved to the rear of the nearest dwelling. Motioning to the others to follow and indicating silence, he proceeded again, skirting around behind the houses on the outer edge. There was one ahead that was dark and lifeless and there was no smoke from its chimney. Its occupant had left six days ago full of resolve to plot his own destiny only to return with his future in the hands of four strangers.
Daniel went down the narrow alley between his house and that of his neighbour and waited, looking out into the street. It was quieter in this part of the town and in a short time he motioned for them to follow him down. He had slipped around to the front and opened the wooden door, holding it open for them to pass in procession out into the open and then ducking swiftly into the dark house. When the last of them had entered he pulled the door behind him and the room became dark and quiet. 
There was silence for a moment and they became aware of their own rapid, heavy breathing. There was an air of tense excitement, relieved only when Sammy spoke: “Well, here we are then.”
“Anybody got a light?” Jim asked, and there was a round of tight, nervous laughter. Lewis provided what was asked for. The room lit up momentarily allowing Daniel to fetch something more substantial.
The room was relatively small, only twenty paces or so across and roughly square in shape. A large oven was the centrepiece; shrouded by clothes set there to dry. Around it he’d set furniture, a table and some chairs, roughly constructed. Over along one of the walls there was a bench, stacked with cooking implements. The walls themselves were mud brick, dark and solid with straw intermittently poking from their surface. Strong wooden beams supported the roof, built of densely packed tree branches. It was still warm inside, a remnant from the day’s sun, a few degrees warmer than the cool exterior. With the warm glow of the lamp the room was comfortable and homey.
Daniel moved to the centre of the room and gathered his clothing. He was not prepared for his new visitors, nor was he prepared to feed them. With his arms full of garments from around the stove he headed to another doorway leading to a room off to the side. “Please make yourselves at home. I will be back in a moment,” he said disappearing inside.
Returning empty handed moments later, he moved over to where the cooking implements were stacked, looking over what he had stored there to eat. 
“I am sorry. I am clearly not ready for you tonight.” When he couldn’t find what he was looking for, he prepared to leave. “It would be only right that I feed you as a host should, but I have no fresh food here. Look, there is a pressing matter that I need to get to tonight, but if you will permit me some time, I will return with something to eat.”
They were tired and while hungry they were resigned to waiting for their stomachs to be satisfied. At the door Daniel stopped, looking down at his feet. His hand was on the handle. “I would not leave here tonight,” he advised. “There will be far too many questions and you will not be able to answer them.”
The door opened again and noises spilled in from the street. There were voices and laughter beckoning them to a normal life, to people and faces, but it was abruptly taken from them as the door closed firmly, leaving them alone for the first time in a world that they didn’t belong in – or understand.

***

Sammy woke suddenly, shaking and sweaty with a vivid dream that was fading quickly from memory. In a few seconds it was gone and Sammy was frustrated at his inability to remember it. He rubbed his eyes and opened them wide again to take in his surroundings. He was not at home with his wife and daughters, he was in a strange place with foreign sounds and there was a man making him supper.
Daniel smiled at him from the centre of the room, shaking a large pan over the oven. The room was full of a smell now familiar to him, the smell of pancakes and cinnamon. Daniel was cooking more of the food he had brought to The Installation. Sammy’s stomach growled deeply, twisting and turning inside him, demanding satisfaction.
Daniel asked an obvious question: “Are you hungry?”
Nodding wordlessly, Sammy moved to stand. He’d been sitting in a chair, slumped there for some time and his legs were numb and lifeless. He needed to shake them to life. Finally he managed to stand and walk awkwardly over to the source of the delicious aroma.
Daniel flipped the cakes in the pan and kept talking, not taking his eyes from the task at hand for a second. “You can thank my mother – she made the batter – I am just cooking it – badly I might say.” He slid two from the pan onto a thick earthenware plate. “It is not too burnt,” he apologised for his poor presentation.
Happy to be fed, Sammy let it pass.  He looked back to his host with appreciation but found his eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot. Daniel knew Sammy had seen his expression and quickly turned away.
“Would you wake the others?” he asked, preparing to add another batch to the pan, trying to hide his face.
Sammy knew that Daniel had spoken to his mother that evening and her grief was no doubt the source of Daniel’s distress. He chose to let it go for now, moving over to the others.
Over in the back corner, Jim was snoring loudly with his head back and his mouth wide open. Sammy laid a hand on his shoulder and Jim’s head snapped forward. He stretched his shoulders back and yawned, then tried to coax some life into his legs just as Sammy had done. Lewis’s head was forward, almost resting on his chest and Emily’s was resting on Lewis’s shoulder. She had quickly fallen asleep and her head had rolled downwards, coming to rest upon Lewis. On waking the two young people quickly separated, briefly embarrassed. Emily apologised about her position and they stood slowly, stretching as Jim had done and joined the others at the stove.
Daniel was passing out pancakes, hot and aromatic, two at a time onto plates. Thanking their host profusely they sat back on their chairs and silently consumed the first hot meal they’d had for many days. Two cakes was not a banquet, but it was enough to satisfy the gnawing hunger that plagued all of them, and there was food in their packs as well.
Sammy could still see some evidence of Daniel’s distress and tried to coax it out of him. “How’s your mother, Daniel? She must have had a hard evening.”
Daniel sighed, “My mother knew what would happen when we left here. She knew he was not likely to survive the journey. She had already said her goodbyes. All the same, she is grieving tonight.”
Sammy leant forward. “And you?”
“My father and I haven’t always seen eye to eye,” he explained. “For the last few years there have only been a handful of words that we have spoken to each other, but I did love him.”
Emily looked at him with sympathy in her eyes. She would have put an arm around him if she was within arm’s reach. “We’re really sorry.”
He shrugged with indifference but his eyes told them otherwise. “We live. We die. That is the way of things.”
There was an awkward silence while Daniel poured boiled water from the stove into a large bowl and started to clean the pan. The others looked down, embarrassed by the pain that had been shared and cast aside so easily. Sammy stood and took the plates of his friends, finally standing behind his host.
“Please, let me. I’ll do this.” He tried to take the pan out of Daniel’s hands but he encountered some resistance.
“You are a guest,” Daniel protested.
“You’re one of us now. Go on…” Sammy said, managing to get the cooking implement out of Daniel’s hands, “…I’ll do it,” he offered.
Relieved of his duty, Daniel lit another lamp and placed it into the other room. He returned, outlining what he had planned for the remainder of the night: “I have made arrangements to stay with my mother – she is going to need me and there is definitely not enough room for us all.” He collected some things in his sack, ready to take away. “There is a bed here…” he motioned to the other room, “…for Emily. You others can find space anywhere you can.” He gathered his sack and slung it over his shoulder. “It is late. I will leave you until the morning. Sleep well.”
He was gone. The door shut behind him, giving them a sense of being alone, but they weren’t of course. They had each other, they were fed, they were warm and they were safe – at least for now. Things had turned out well after all. Perhaps tomorrow would be different, but for now when they laid their heads down they slept soundly and confidently. They did not stir until the light from the sun started to stream through the gaps in the shades on their windows and the sounds of the village waking were heard.

***

Emily slept the best out of the four of them – she easily had the better bed. It was a long way from being the best bed she had ever slept on - it was lumpy and hard - but it was a far cry from the solid ground she had been used to in the five previous nights. The light had entered the room early as it does at that time of the year. It lit the room long before she began to stir. She had been tired, bone weary, and the relative comfort of the bed she was now in afforded her the deep sleep she so desperately needed. 
She was probably dreaming when she opened her eyes - at least that was what she first thought. They fluttered open and closed again against the glare of the morning – then they opened again slowly and her iris moved rapidly into position. The image, blurry at first, moved into focus. The old man sitting on a chair an arm’s length away regarded her with a soft smile. He was not well, his skin was a sick yellowish colour, his hair grey and thin – but his eyes twinkled with the spark of life. His smile broadened when she frowned at his presence.
He spoke quietly and she detected a faint hint of disappointment in his voice, not at her – perhaps with himself. “We’ve waited a long time for you, young lady.”
She blinked – and when her eyes opened again he was gone. She sat up and looked about for a sign of him but there was none. 
Dreaming, she thought, sitting up and stretching, taking in her room now that there was adequate light.
The bedroom was small and sparse. The bed took up the majority of the room and left little space for the remaining items: a chair, a small table by the bed and a large wooden chest. The floor was covered by a rough, woven rug which kept the bare stone floor from her feet – which Emily gingerly applied. She had taken off her boots - they were by the door – and the jacket of her fatigues was draped over the chair. She had kept on her pants and the singlet that she wore under her jacket.
There were noises outside beyond the window - noises of busy commerce, casual activity and of wheels over stones. Through the doorway into the other room there were also voices and the sounds of cooking - the clanging of pans and plates. Sammy and Jim were up, and here and there was the voice of Daniel. She stood and stretched again, retrieved her jacket and joined the others after dressing.
Sammy was cleaning his breakfast plate and he was the first to see her emerge and he greeted her. “Hey, it’s good of you to join us Miss Emily. Did you sleep well?”
She had. “Oh yeah,” she said with satisfaction, and asked “what time is it?”
Jim was the only one of them who could answer her with any accuracy, and he did. It was halfway through the morning.
“You let me sleep in,” she accused them.
“You’ve got somewhere to go?” Jim asked her, his smile crooked and sarcastic.
Sitting down for breakfast, she was served cakes again. This time they were mixed with herbs and mushrooms. The others had eaten already. Daniel had been back an hour ago.
“While you’re eating,” Jim said, “we’ll have a little talk.” Lewis was the only one not at the table. He was searching through his pack, looking for something. That’s why Emily hadn’t heard him speak. “Want to join us, Lewis?” Jim asked him.
Lewis found what he was searching for, extracting a toothbrush and some paste from his pack. He walked over to join them, brushing his teeth dry. “What’s up?” he asked with the brush hanging out of his mouth and white foam forming on his lips. Emily, trying to eat, looked at him disdainfully. 
Jim laid out their situation. “We’ve got two problems as I see it. Number one: we only know Daniel here, and two: none of us can speak the language. We need to address those two issues before we can tackle anything else. Now, Emily can deal with the language problem.” He turned to her as she put a portion of a pancake into her mouth. “What do you need?”
She swallowed hastily, thinking as she did. “I’ll need a pen and some paper.”
Jim frowned. “We should have brought some up from the storehouse,” he quietly admonished himself. Turning to Daniel he enquired about local availability, explaining exactly what it was he needed.
It was clear by the young local’s reaction that he was illiterate and it was likely that those from his village were likewise. Regardless, he had an inkling of what was required and lifted his eyes to the roof as he thought. “I think my mother may have something that will do. I will have to think of a story to tell her, she will not be able to make out why I need it.”
“As for knowing only Daniel here,” Jim continued, “we’ll have to work on that. We’ll have to rely on our friend here to keep us out of trouble.” He looked over to their host stacking dishes on the bench.
Daniel turned sharply from his work, his eyes wide open. “I do not think it would be a good idea to go outside this house just yet,” he advised, “you will be noticed right away. My people are more or less my height and you will stand out. The people here will not accept you. I can see trouble coming very quickly.”
Lewis spoke up, the teeth cleaning exercise over. He was looking around at the four walls of the room and the space between them. “I can’t stay here forever,” he exclaimed, his voice slightly wavering from the slightest case of claustrophobia.
Jim calmed him with a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s not rush out and make a spectacle of ourselves right away. At least for today, let’s stay put and let Emily do her thing. We can spend the time getting some answers – well, what answers we can – from Daniel.”
“I will not be here today to answer your questions,” the young local man said quickly. “I have things that need to be done – there is a plot that needs to be looked over. I have been away a lot longer than I have expected and there are things I need to do.” Daniel took Emily’s plate as he was speaking and put it on the stack that rested on the bench. He was wearing a different shirt and pants from the last few days and had cleaned up - he didn’t look nearly as rough and simple as he had the day before. There was a quiet intelligence behind his eyes that morning and also a hint of sadness. Collecting his things for the day he departed, leaving the four in their self-imposed prison.

The day progressed slowly. There is only so much cleaning to be done in such as small place, and by the end of the morning it was complete. Emily retired to her room and listened through the window at the activity outside. People continued to walk past the house and she eavesdropped on their talk. She understood none of what they said but she was practicing the way they said it – the inflections and the tone.
They ate lunch and after that the men retired to catch up on lost sleep whilst Emily resumed her education. 
By evening, Daniel had still not appeared and Emily had visions of their host returning at night with a hundred or so villagers carrying torches and pitchforks. She knew that was ridiculous. Daniel was no traitor and from what she had seen, he possessed more courage than most people she had met. He’d carried his dead father across a desert to bury him. He’d accepted into his life four impossible strangers – people that could spell disaster for himself and all he had. She drifted off to sleep – the sounds of the street, the undulating curtain dancing in the breeze and the hot afternoon dragging her into dreams again.
This time she saw no visions of old men when she awoke. She heard no ghosts this time. There was a voice though, an angry voice. A voice she had heard before – only spluttering in hard words, some understandable and some incomprehensible. Daniel was in the other room and he was yelling.
“How could you have let him go? I explained you must stay here.”
“We didn’t know - we were all sleeping.” Jim was saying. “He must have snuck out while we were…”
“I have got to find him quickly, before there is trouble.” There was panic in his voice.
“I’ll come with you,” Jim offered, but Daniel shouted his protest.
“No! You stay here. I will not have two of you to worry about!”
Emily was trying to climb from her bed and get her jacket on before Daniel left but there was a slam of the door and he was gone. Jim and Sammy were standing in front of the closed entrance looking at each other with obvious concern. The lamp sitting on top of the stove threw wild shadows over their faces drawing deep lines of worry where there was usually none.
“What’s happened?” she demanded of them, going to the door.
Sammy’s voice was strained, taut with fear. “Lewis has gone snooping,” he pronounced, like it was a disaster.
“Why didn’t you stop him?”
“We’ve been through that already,” Jim said darkly, moving into the room Emily had just vacated. He was peeking through the window past the curtains. Emily had followed him, hearing as he did the noises outside the house. “Something’s up,” he declared.
Outside, the village was on the move. There was a sound of excited voices and running feet on the road that travelled down the alley between the two houses. Emily took Jim’s position, craning her neck around the corner to see the road that faced the house. Lights were moving quickly past the gap, bright in the late evening. People were heading up the road past the house carrying their lamps.
Jim’s voice was full of doom. He pushed past her, bringing a chair with him, standing on it and passing a leg through the window. “I think someone’s found Lewis. Come on, we’d better take a look. He might need our help.”
Sammy watched him climb halfway into the night. “Daniel told us to stay,” he protested.
Jim was out, looking through the window at them and Emily was following. She looked back at the big man as she shimmied through the hole. We’re not leaving him to face this alone, she thought.
“We stick together, right?” she said aloud, dropping gently onto the ground outside the window and waiting with Jim for Sammy to join them.

Chapter Eight

His search was desperate. He knew that the young man would not find a pleasant reception if discovered. He hoped that he could prevent that discovery from occurring. Night is not the best time for such events. People tend to exaggerate their fears and anger. Small threats grow beyond comprehension, leaving individuals no choice but to react in extremes. He knew these simple people. They were ruled by their superstitions despite the direction of the Judges. With every moment his fear grew. He was talking to himself furiously in order to remain calm enough to search carefully. He started at the outskirts first, knowing the young man would most likely stick to the shadows. When he had completed the circuit of the town he made his way inwards.
There were voices ahead, some excited, some angry, and they were moving. There was a slight slope up to the town square and the people were hurriedly making their way up, over the cobblestone road. The lights from their lamps danced in the night as they paraded up the hill. He joined them, a sick feeling growing in his belly with every step, knowing precisely what was transpiring ahead.
The throng reached the top in a steady line and joined those already at the square. There was a mass of people – all of the town – a hundred people, all crowding around the spectacle in the centre. They craned their heads above the throng to see what had drawn them, trying to catch a glimpse of the man that they had found – the stranger.
Daniel could see him, head and shoulders above all the others, his face contorted with fear and worry. He was being mobbed, crushed by the throng and Daniel desperately fought through them, keeping the young man’s face in view. All about there were comments and threats, accusations and even some laughter. Daniel ignored them all, pushing his way to the front. Once there, he was practically thrown at the young man, colliding with him and landing at his feet. He felt hands upon his back pulling him up, lifting him back onto his feet. He looked into Lewis’s face, leaned forward and spoke into the tall young man’s ear above the din of the crowd.
“Are you alright? Have you been hurt?” he asked as quietly as he was able, grabbing onto Lewis’s jacket.
“No, I’m okay.” At least he had the sense to whisper back.
Daniel needed Lewis to keep quiet. If the boy spoke out, then the secrets his family had held all this time would be in jeopardy. “Do not say anything,” he commanded and looked back to the mob around them, searching for a friend, an ally.
Then a voice rose over the crowd, one he knew well. The throng parted to allow the owner of the voice passage to the front. Master Delvore was standing out in front with his hands on his hips and an expression of distain on his face. He was dressed more finely than all the others - cleaner than all the rest - and he spoke with an authority that caused all those around him to hush. They hung back now, waiting for the exchange which would be the pinnacle of the night’s entertainment.
The Master looked around as he spoke to Daniel but his words were for all to hear. “Step back from the captive, Daniel,” he was saying, “unless you want to share his fate.”
Ordinarily, Daniel would have given way to his superior. Tonight Lewis was completely out of his depth and defenceless. There was no one to help him but Daniel. There was no choice. The Madman’s Son stepped forward, standing between Lewis and the Master and held his ground. “And what fate would that be? What’s he done to deserve this treatment?” Daniel asked.
“Done?” The Master’s was raised in volume, and pitch. He was playing to the crowd. “I’m told he’s been sneaking through the town. He’s a spy I’d wager. So stand back and let’s be done with him,” he commanded, as unwavering as Daniel.
Daniel scoffed. “A spy…? A spy for who?” he asked. No one in the audience spoke and Daniel pressed on. “You’ll be done with no one tonight. He’s not been tried, he’s not been found guilty and you are no Judge.”
The Master was not going to be deterred. “You’re speaking way out of turn Daniel. Have a care.” He took a step closer to the two in the middle of the circle. “I will deal with this person any way I see fit – without the Judge if need be.”
Daniel kept his ground. “Then you’ll need to deal with me first – and I’m not afraid of you.” The fact was, Daniel was afraid of the Master, or rather, what he would do after this altercation but Daniel had no choice - he had to stand up for himself and Lewis. It was obvious the Master would not be swayed – perhaps the crowd… 
He raised his voice just as Delvore had done, addressing them all. “What about the rest of you?” he asked. “Are you happy that this man…” Daniel turned and pointed toward Lewis, “…is punished without the Judge testing his case? Are you all ready to accept the anger of The Judiciary when word gets out?” They kept quiet. “What’s he done? He’s sneaking around – perhaps he’s afraid of what you’ll all do to him – perhaps justly. Let him go!” Daniel added just a hint of pleading to his voice.
The Master had heard enough and said as much, waving in two of the Militia that were standing behind him. This is it, Daniel thought, but his words had struck a chord.
There was a murmur through the crowd. Opinion had changed. The people seemed to be more afraid of the anger of the Judge than one tall stranger. When Delvore’s men seized Lewis, they were stopped by another voice rising over the discontent: “Wait a moment!”
The Master bowed respectfully before the Elder, who entered unnoticed through another opening in the crowd. “Elder Laydon, I didn’t see you,” he apologised. “I’m sorry that you’ve become involved in this issue – but it’s been settled.”
“Perhaps Daniel here has made a valid point. Perhaps it wouldn’t be fair to try this young man – a stranger granted – without The Judge present. I find it difficult to believe that this charge of spying would stick.”
“Perhaps,” Delvore conceded. “But I think it would be dangerous to allow him to simply go free without some form of investigation.”
The elder smiled, “I agree. Now young man,” he spoke directly to Lewis, “Who are you and what do you want from us?”
Daniel knew Lewis did not understand one word of what the elder asked him. The young man didn’t reply – which was what Daniel was hoping – but stood there with a dumb expression on his face. Daniel placed a hand on Lewis’s shoulder to forestall any rash statements.
“He doesn’t understand you, Elder Laydon,” Daniel explained. “He speaks another language entirely. I can vouch for him, though. His name is Lewis and he means no harm to anyone in this town.”
Delvore burst into accusation. He was clearly not going to accept that explanation. “Are you expecting us to believe that you speak this other language, farmer?” He turned to the elder, trying to convince the old man of his case. “He understands us quite well I’m sure. He’s hiding behind this farmer. With due respect, Elder Laydon, I had just settled the issue. I can assure you I will get him to talk. We’ll get all the answers we need. I won’t need to go through this madman’s son to get them.”
“I can assure you Master Delvore, I will not allow that sort of treatment. I’ve heard enough.” He finally turned and spoke directly to Daniel himself. “You know him?” he asked.
Daniel knew precisely where the conversation was going. “I do, Elder Laydon,” he sighed with resignation.
“Are you prepared to vouch for him?”
There it is, he thought. “Yes, Elder Laydon.”
Daniel felt trapped again. Not only did he have these four in his house, but after they had been discovered, he would be responsible for them in the town. He thought it would be prudent to mention the presence of the other three sooner than later.
“Ah, there is just one other thing I think I should mention, Elder Laydon,” he said, stepping forward to speak as privately as he could under the circumstances.
“What is it, Daniel?” Laydon asked, taking the cue and leaning in to hear.
The crowd had quietened down to hear what Daniel had to say, but were disappointed. He had no intention of letting anyone other than the elder hear him. He whispered: “There are actually four of them.”
 The elder stepped back and considered what Daniel had told him. To his credit, he didn’t just blurt out the news, he was an elder after all – and with age comes wisdom they say. After a moment, he came to a conclusion and addressed the entire congregation. “You’ve all heard Daniel accept this young man as his responsibility. Therefore this matter is settled. There is nothing further to see tonight. It’s time to go home.”
The crowd dispersed slowly, some grumbling, but most relieved. In the end only the major players remained. Delvore would not let the matter rest and the elder noticed he had remained, flanked by his guards.
“Why are you still here?” Laydon asked him with a little consternation.
“I don’t think this is entirely wise.”
“Thank you very much for your opinion, but as I said, this matter is settled.” Laydon folded his arms over his chest and waited. It was obvious that the Elder had made up his mind and would not change it.
Delvore understood. The proceedings had come to an end and it was time for him to depart. Signalling angrily to his men, he stalked by Daniel and Lewis. As he passed, their eyes locked for a moment and Daniel knew where he now stood with the Master. Only the three of them remained.
“I think, Daniel, that you should introduce me to these others. I have a feeling this is going to be a long night.” The elder gestured with his hand, suggesting that the three of them proceed down the hill to Daniel’s house. Already the crowd was making their way down in a long line of lanterns. The three followed them slowly and they talked as they went.
“You’ve made an enemy tonight, Daniel,” the Elder observed.
Daniel sighed, nodding his head in agreement. “I’ve made a friend tonight as well – thank you for your help.”
“I didn’t want your young friend to get poor justice,” Laydon explained. “What would people say about our village if I let that happen?”

***

There was no small amount of cursing from Jim as he pushed Sammy back in through the window to Daniel’s house. Emily was already inside and making her way over the bed into the common room. Jim climbed through and slipped, landing heavily onto the rough mat that covered the stone floor. He was cursing again – this time regarding his scraped shin – and he hobbled in after the others.
They were standing in the centre of the room when the door opened and Lewis filed in, his head down with shame. Daniel followed and then one of the villagers they’d seen talking to the crowd earlier when they‘d watched from a distance.
He was old, but not ancient, with a white beard trimmed neatly and thinning hair on his head, uncombed and unruly. He was dressed simply – rough woven shirt and pants, simple shoes, much like all the others the group had seen. He stood and regarded them and then he smiled. After a moment he looked to Daniel and they spoke at length - then he waited for the translation process to occur.
“This is Elder Laydon,” Daniel said somewhat formally. “He wishes to welcome you to his Village. He asks you to speak your names.” Daniel nodded to Sammy to begin, him being first in the line.
Sammy was about to open his mouth to speak when Jim interrupted, clearing his throat. Hadn’t Daniel advised them they weren’t to talk to the locals? Speaking aside to Daniel, Jim addressed that very issue. “You said not to use English. Now you want us to?”
He whispered back urgently. “This is different. You can trust this man – he is helped you tonight, so I think he has earned it.” 
Jim nodded. They trusted Daniel and the young man trusted this elder. Jim stepped forward and smiled, holding out his hand in greeting, introducing himself. The others followed suit.
For several minutes there was talk between Daniel and the elder as they discussed the group. Some of the answers given by the young man caused confusion, some surprise, but most were accepted without comment or reaction. Finally Daniel turned and spoke in English:
“The Elder has asked where you come from and I have answered him as best I can. He wants to know why you are dressed the same and why you have your hair short like you do. I hope I have spoken truly on your behalf.”
Emily smiled and placed a comforting hand on Daniel’s shoulder. The young man had stood up for them and proved himself a true friend. “I’m sure you did great,” she said.
“I’ve a question for the Elder if you’d translate for me?” Jim requested. The Elder had found out what he’d wanted to know, but there were things the group needed to know as well. Daniel nodded. “Ask him what we do now? How do things work from now on?”
“I can answer that myself,” Daniel replied, his eyes looked like they were trapped in headlights. “What you do, good or bad, comes back to me. I am to ensure that you know and follow the rules. If you do not…”
“I get it,” Jim held out his hand to stop him. “And what about the other…” He’d almost said ‘the other guy’ – but he shouldn’t have known about him, he shouldn’t have seen the altercation that had unfolded earlier. Instead he finished: “…people in the village? Are they going to give us any trouble?”
“As long as you have the Elder’s – and my – surety you will be quite safe. The people here will respect you as they respect the elder.”
Jim bowed to the village leader and gave Daniel something to translate: “Tell the elder that we’ll behave as we should – we’ll be no trouble – and for him not to worry. Thank him for his support.”
Daniel talked to the old man again and the elder bowed in return. They spoke again. “He wishes you a good night and requests you see him in the morning – there is still more to talk about.”
Jim nodded and the meeting ended. Laydon and Daniel spoke at the door and then the elder was gone. The door shut behind him and Daniel turned, his expression changing dramatically.
Daniel scanned the room and the faces present, stopping at Lewis. Something that had been latent was now being released. He extended a shaking finger to the young man and tried to speak. His face had turned red, filled with blood and his lips quivered with anger. After a moment all he could manage to say was: “You!”
The young men started a dance in the room, one where Daniel advanced and Lewis retreated and the former had recovered his voice. “Do you have any idea what could have happened tonight - to all of us?” he demanded, his finger still shaking with rage.
Lewis’s eyes were wide with terror. He had no idea what Daniel would do to him, or what he was capable of.
“I told you to say inside here. I told you all!” he growled, turning to the remainder of them. “What do I find? You are all out, snooping about. I saw you, rushing to get back before us, sneaking around in the dark!”
There was a disastrous confrontation imminent and Jim stepped into the circle eager to head it off.
“It worked out alright though, didn’t it?” he asked, trying to placate the maddened Daniel.  “And you have a new ally.”
Daniel was starting to calm himself. “And a new enemy as well,” he added vehemently. “The one person we cannot afford to have against us. If we had done things my way…”
Jim interjected, “Things will turn out precisely the way they are supposed to. That’s right isn’t it, Sammy?”
Sammy kept silent.
Daniel took the role of doomsayer. “Delvore will be back,” he predicted. “He has too much control of this town to lose face so easily. He will be back - and not alone.”
Jim started to get a little worried. “We should keep an eye out for trouble them. Do you think he’ll make a move tonight?”
“Like I said, no one will do anything to us while Elder Laydon has our case in mind but that will not last forever.” Daniel thought of something. He groaned, bringing his hands up to his face, burying it into them. “She will not be happy with me tomorrow.”
“Who…?” Jim asked.
“My mother - she does not know you are all here. I did not tell her. She will not be happy.”

***

She was definitely not pleased when she entered unannounced the next day around mid morning, catching them all by surprise. The night before they’d all bunked in the common room taking shifts and keeping watch. It was a long night and at best they all slept lightly but in the end nothing transpired. Morning came and they rose, stiff and sore but relieved to see the day in without incident. 
Now they had an angry woman in the doorway, staring with hostility at Daniel who was rising from the table to meet her. She stood shorter than her son in stature but much taller in determination. There was a strong resemblance between them but at present the soft looks that would ordinarily be hers were replaced by a mask of anger. She was wearing a rough woven dress of dark red – tight around the neck and flowing down to her feet – and a white work apron, clean and pressed.
They spoke at length, her voice rising and falling, with her standing over him despite her size, her finger shaking suggestively. At times she pointed at the four as they sat uncomfortably at the table. Finally she had calmed down and was able to listen to Daniel as he explained and cajoled. When he was done, there was an uneasy silence as she thought for a while, her head cocked to one side and deep frown lines on her face. She came to her decision, turned to face the four and spoke to Daniel.
Daniel translated for her: “My mother does not think it is right for Emily to be here with us. She has demanded that Emily accompany her to her house.”
He waited for a moment as the group looked at each other, unsure of what to say. They had up until this time not been separated and this request spelt a change in their journey. Emily stood, not waiting for the others to speak and went over to Daniel’s mother. She had a way of making others comfortable and safe simply by her smile – and this is what she presented to the woman still standing by the door. She spoke her name, slowly and clearly and then waited. 
The woman smiled, nodded and spoke hers, “Joanna”, just as Emily had done – and the two were introduced. 
Emily gathered her pack and boots and placed them by the door. Jim was watching her from the table – he stood and walked to her as she prepared to depart, whispering into her ear: “You sure you want to do this?”
“It’ll be fine, I’ll go. There’s nothing to worry about. I need some female company.”
“We’re still not sure it’s safe out there,” he argued. Jim seemed to want to keep her close.
“Trust me.”
He had no choice but to accept it. She drew him into her arms for an unexpected embrace as a daughter would to her father. 
“Take care,” he said when she pulled back.
“You too...” She went to the others, making her goodbyes. “I’ll get onto that language problem we’ve got,” she promised, collecting her things and going to the door with Daniel’s mother. “I think Joanna will be able to help.”
Jim nodded and she was out the door, saying as she went, “See you guys.” She stepped out into the sunlight of the morning.

The two women stood at the door for a few moments. There were people moving about in front of them, up and down the hill, talking, shouting, and laughing. Joanna motioned her intended direction, up the hill to the centre of the town where Lewis was mobbed the night before, and Emily felt the apprehension rising in her stomach. They started up the hill, pushing into the throng, joining the groups that were heading in that direction towards the top of the hill. 
It was not long before Emily’s presence was noted. She was the tallest person they had seen with the exception of Lewis the night before. Her appearance was striking, with her strange clothing and hair. From a distance they were not sure if she was a woman or a man. Word of her presence travelled ahead of her and by the time the two women had reached the top of the gentle climb, virtually the entire town was out to see the spectacle.
They stood around the square watching from a distance – this time not moving forward as they had the night before. It was daytime and her appearance was not as frightening as Lewis’s was at night. They had left a path for the two women to pass through and Emily tried to smile at whoever would catch her eye as she went. They were virtually silent, whispering to each other. She would not have been able to understand them even if they had been shouting.
At the other side of the square there was a slope back down and there before them were the fields. The treeless expanse panned out before her. Large, yellow blocks were bounded by small lanes and roads, interspersed with houses and barns. It was hot out there – there was no shade and the sun was beating down on her head mercilessly, uncovered and virtually hairless. Emily was glad when, after walking some ten minutes, they passed through a small gate into a yard that held a rough house. 
The ground was grassy – not bright green as around some farm houses, but almost brown as if lacking in water. The farm was neat and tidy, devoid of the usual adornments that accompany such places. There were no signs of rusty machinery and cars. Likewise the house, although basic was also clean and tidy - it was obviously a lady’s house and Emily sighed at the sight. She had seen so much hardness, so much desolation, that she was glad for the softness of the scene. Something else was missing here but she was unable to put her finger on it. She let the feeling go, hoping that perhaps later she would realise what it was.
Inside was as she expected it be – clean and tidy with womanly touches all about – and Emily felt more at home here than anywhere she had been in this strange new world. Joanna spoke to her briefly and Emily tried to communicate that she did not understand. Patiently, Joanna pointed to the corner by a fireplace and then to Emily’s pack. With understanding established, Emily took the heavy bag from her back and laid it down where she was told. 
In the corner was a bed, a cot that sat only an arm’s length from the ground. It was made up with coloured blankets and had a soft, inviting pillow lying at the end of it. This was where Daniel had slept two nights prior and where Joanna no doubt expected her to sleep from here on.
When she turned, Joanna was at a bench – her ‘kitchen’ – and Emily stood and waited quietly for further directions. The older woman smiled as she passed her, going over to the fireplace. She poured some water from a jug she was carrying into a pot sitting over the hearth. There were some hot coals left over from cooking breakfast and she stirred them a little, causing sparks and embers to rise up into the chimney. Emily saw at once what was needed, taking cut wood from a pile in the corner of the room and adding them to the coals. Joanna stood up and brushed the front of her dress and regarded her guest, looking at her from head to toe and shaking her head in disapproval. 
She walked around Emily’s back, looking at her shape, thinking with her hand on her chin. Emily stood and held her arms out, waiting. When she had walked all the way around Joanna nodded, proceeding into an adjoining room – leaving Emily to stare at the fire, which was starting to flare up again with the addition of new fuel. There were sounds of searching and Joanna was talking to herself unintelligibly – until she suddenly crowed with the joy of discovery. Emily was looking into the fire when Joanna returned from the other room and spoke her name.
Joanna held out a dress – much like the one she herself was wearing, this one blue in colour – and pondered whether Emily would be able to fit it. Emily was ecstatic. She was hoping to discard the military attire for something more feminine and this was precisely what she needed. She almost cried in delight when she took the dress from her host and brought it close to her chest, viewing its appearance against her form. Emily wanted to change immediately but the older woman had other plans.
 Wait, Joanna gestured, directing her instead to the water just starting to warm up nicely over the fire. Joanna drew out a good portion of the mildly steaming liquid, pouring it into a bowl that had been placed onto a table near the kitchen bench. She handed Emily a bar of white, simple soap and the young woman understood. Joanna left the house so that Emily could strip off the dirty uniform and clean up. 
When Joanna returned Emily was wearing the dress she had been given. It was short compared to Joanna’s – coming only to halfway up to her knees – and Emily was delighted. The fit was almost perfect, Joanna would only need to make some minor adjustments, and there was the matter of the length. She hovered about the base determining how much material would be needed to extend it, but Emily stepped back. Joanna looked as if she was considering voicing her disapproval and must have thought better of the idea. She must have known that Emily was determined to keep the length as it was.
The remaining water over the fire was heating up nicely and would be boiling soon. She returned to her kitchen and brought out two small, fine cups from the cupboard above the bench. As Emily walked about, getting used to the weight and feel of the material, Joanna drew some boiling water from the pot into a metal teapot and brought it over to the kitchen. Emily sat with her host and had morning tea in her new dress.
This was not the leaf tea that she was expecting - this was clearly not the climate for such produce to grow - it was a herbal tea, possibly derived from a plant, perhaps a root. It was not bitter or strong – being slightly aniseed in flavour – but not unpleasant. They sat in silence for at least half an hour, looking out the open window at the fields beyond and then at each other, smiling at the serenity of the scene. Emily sighed contentedly. This was better than anything else she’d seen up to this moment. She could get used to this.

***

Later in the morning the men had arrived from the village. They had visited Laydon, the elder, and then continued on to the farm. The people of the village had realised early that there was more than one visitor and watched from a distance as the group passed. The men hadn’t attempted to change their appearance. They still had the fatigues and boots that they had acquired from the installation days ago. Daniel led them into the yard and they waited by the gate as he spoke briefly with Joanna. A short time later they were out in the field amongst the small, yellow plants that were arranged in neat rows. They carried the tools that Daniel had given them - they were old and chipped, used well beyond what ‘modern society’ would tolerate.
“This is your land?” Sammy asked, looking over the entire plot and its boundaries.
“No, no,” Daniel said, shaking his head, “we just work it. It is owned by someone you have already met.” He turned to face Lewis, his eyebrows raised.
After a moment the tall, young man swore. He only knew four people in this land and was fairly sure who Daniel was talking about. The consequences of his actions were obvious to him - there would be repercussions. “He’ll kick you off. Then you’ll have nothing.”
Daniel waved his hands as to discount that possibility. “Oh no, he cannot do that. There are laws. The elders would stop that happening. This plot has been with my family for generations and he will not ‘kick me off’ - but he can make things hard for us. No,” he added grimly, “he will make things hard.”
“I’m really sorry.”
“It is done now,” he sighed, “we will get through.”
Jim was standing, looking over the plot and shaking his head. “Did you plant all this?” he asked.
“Yes. Well, I had help. We all work to get the fields planted and harvested.” He bent down to examine one of the small plants. “This is a winter crop – it still has some time to go,” he added. “We will harvest it in a few months.” He stood and brushed the dirt from his hands.
“So, you don’t own the land – you pay the rent through the harvest, from what you ‘collect’?” Sammy asked.
“That is right.”
“He takes a portion?”
“Yes. The price is set every year based on quality, which the landowner determines. Then we deliver the harvest to the mill and it gets sorted from there. The landowner collects his part and pays us the rest in what we call ‘credit’ and milled grain. We keep the right to work this land and pass it on to the next generation. They get a portion every year of the produce as payment for us to use it. It works.”
Jim was toeing the dirt with his boot. “It’s dry,” he commented.
“It will rain. The storms come this time of the year.” Daniel explained what he had in store for the day and when they would stop. Pointing up into the sky, he showed them where the sun would be when they broke for lunch.
Jim looked at his watch, winding it carefully. Daniel had watched this ritual before and finally asked what this was for.
“Oh,” he held out his arm, showing the black banded wristwatch to the farmer. “It’s a watch. It keeps time.”
Daniel looked confused and Sammy felt the need to offer a better explanation. “It gives a number to the same time each day – and counts the time between those numbers. It’s about eleven isn’t it Jim?”
“More or less...”
“Tomorrow, at this time of day, when the sun is there…” he pointed to where the sun was sitting in the sky offering its heat to the day, “…it will be eleven again and Jim’s watch will tell him so. We get up around six, and go to bed around eight – wait a minute,” he rubbed his forehead, “that’s confusing – ah, when the sun is right up there… It’s twelve and then an hour later it goes to one again. It counts to twelve again – in the middle of the night – and then starts again at one. Every day has twenty four counts – two lots of twelve.”
Daniel had lost interest. “Seems far too hard,” he mused, then looked at Sammy’s wrist. “Why do not you have one?” he asked.
Sammy smiled. “Like you, I don’t want things to be hard. Do we need a watch here, when the simple way works just as well?”

They worked for the next two hours, pulling weeds, clearing the beds of debris and killing pests until the sun was just so and Jim’s watch read half past one. Joanna called from the house and they made their way through the furrows back to the yard.
Emily emerged from the house dressed as the women of the village in a long blue dress, reaching halfway up her lower legs - a vast improvement over her other attire. Jim noticed that her hair was growing and he ran his hand over his scalp. It was covered in sweat from the morning’s labour and he had stubble growing longer by the day. Emily walked among them, offering cakes that they had been cooking that morning and Joanna followed, carrying cups of water for them all.
Daniel’s mother had softened some, realising these tall newcomers would be helpful after all, working the fields and helping her in the house. They sat in the shade of the farmhouse for an hour and then went back to work. By four, they had finished in the field and returned to the house. Daniel had announced the day’s work complete.
Instead of food waiting for them there was a large tub of water sitting outside at the rear of the building. The water had been heated over a fire and was steaming in the slowly cooling afternoon air. The water was slightly used – Emily had been in there earlier, bathing whilst they were working. She had changed back into her dress and was waiting for them with rough towels and homemade soap. 
They all went in turn, washing quickly and drying themselves in the sun. Jim was last in line and the water was murky when he went in, but he managed to wash off the dirt and sweat of the last few days. Emily was thankfully nowhere to be seen. She was inside working in the kitchen whilst Joanna washed the clothes they had removed. By six the sun was low in the sky. The men wrapped themselves in their towels and entered the house, drawn by the smells from the kitchen.
They ate a watery but aromatic soup in earthenware bowls with yellow bread which smelt of rich herbs. It had been sliced into portions and placed in the centre of the table. The pot over the fire was no longer there, it was outside and Emily was cleaning it – the sounds of her effort coming in through the front doorway. In its place - in front of the fire which was burning hotly - was their clothing – drying slowly by the flames. The men sat down to eat without the women – they had eaten first whilst the men had bathed.
For a good portion of the evening, they sat talking and laughing. The women joined them later when the work was done. There was no talk of the future or any of the questions that were left unanswered – these were saved for another night. They were clean, well fed and comfortable and that was all that mattered to them. Their clothing was dry by nine. They changed back into their fatigues, and said good night to the women. Emily was happy in her new environment but she felt a pang of regret saying goodbye to her friends at evening’s end.
The moon was almost full in the night sky and high and therefore the men did not need any illumination as they returned to the village. Ahead, the square was alive with lights where people were about enjoying the warmth of the evening. The newcomers watched the revelry with a small amount of jealousy – wanting to be a part of things but knowing that at this time it could not be. They were little noticed as they walked down the dusty road towards Daniel’s small house – also grateful for the relative anonymity. They were tired and did not wish to tolerate the stares of their new neighbours.
When the door was finally closed and the lamps lit, the four men slumped down onto their chairs and heaved a sigh of relief.
Jim was the first to speak, always to business despite his tiredness. “So Daniel, what’s on the schedule for tomorrow?” he asked.
Daniel thought for a moment. “There is no room here for sleeping – I think you worked that out for yourselves. I think the barn could be made into a place for us. We could start on that tomorrow.”
“Have we worn out our welcome?” he asked. Then he rubbed his chin, thinking of something. “Those tools of yours are pretty old – how long have you had them?”
“A long time… What are you thinking?”
“Well, there are all sorts of tools down in the installation,” he mused, “new ones and farming equipment. They’d be mighty handy. Daniel, how many people does our plot support?”
He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Our plot?” he asked.
“We’re all working together here,” Jim explained, then asked his question again: “How many do you think?”
Daniel looked upward, making the mental calculations. “My grandfather had six to support back in his day. That is the most I’ve heard of.”
“There are six of us now. I don’t know much about farming, but it seems to me that if six is the maximum number that this crop can support, and if we’re going to add to that number in the future, then we’re going to have to boost it.”
Lewis leant forward. “How?” he asked.
“I was thinking something along the lines of fertilizer.”
“I do not know that word,” Daniel said, frowning in confusion.
“It makes plants grow stronger,” Sammy explained. “You would probably use manure.  The dung of animals is the natural version.”
“Manuah,” Daniel pronounced it oddly, “yes we have that, but not for plots our size – it is not available in that sort of quantity and it is expensive.”
“I was thinking about what’s stored at the Installation – probably some sort of liquid, but I’m sure it’d work. Then we could boost the crop and get more out of it,” Jim mused.
“We could support maybe eight people,” Sammy calculated. “Perhaps even ten if things work in our favour.”
“That means another walk to The Stairs,” sighed Daniel. He didn’t seem to like it there. No, his eyes had hardened, he hated the place.
“We should be working towards getting some of that stuff up here. It’s a waste just sitting there. There’s fertilizer, tools, machinery – we could really use those things,” Jim argued. “It’s really for the best, Dan.”
“And when are you planning to go?” Sammy asked, stretching out on his bed – a blanket that had been laid out on the floor.
“When the next storm comes…” Jim turned to Daniel, who was going to his bedroom for the night, “…Daniel can take us over.”
“I knew it,” the short man growled, stopping in his tracks, “I knew I was not out of this. You are going back and you are taking me!”
Jim was not deterred. “You do know the way. Now, do we have a cart on the farm?”
“Yes,” Daniel replied with thinly veiled anger. “We take our crop to the mill on it.”
“We’ll need that.” Something occurred to him, a flaw in his plan. He slapped his forehead with his palm. “How are we going to get it over the creek?”
Lewis had been thinking that very same thing and the answer came to him immediately. He stretched back onto his own bed and placed his hands behind his head, closing his eyes. Then he told them the solution: “Build a bridge.”

***

Ryan watched the four men enter the town from the gate that night, following them as they slowly ambled down the gentle slope toward the farmer’s village house. He had not tried to disguise his presence, he simply strolled a short distance behind them and casually watched their every move. When they entered the dwelling he quickly ducked between two buildings, making his way to the rear of the house they were occupying. There under the rear window he sat in the dark, waiting and listening. The light of the moon shone down on his position but it was invisible from the road.
The men spoke for a time using words he had never heard or understood. It was quiet conversation – and in the end the men settled down for the night. From his position he could hear them getting ready for sleep and eventually there was quiet. There was still a lamp lit in that small house – he could see it shining around the shade of the window and he was tempted to peek just a little. It was his job after all, so he stood and forced his head between the shade and the window to gaze into the interior.
The lamp was over in the corner, illuminating a small area hidden by some items of furniture. There were sounds of sleeping – deep breathing emanating from the bodies scattered about the room – but there was no sleeping in the corner from where the light came. There was a large, dark-skinned man sitting on the floor on a bed of blankets, with his back up against the wall and his head was down, concentrating upon what was in his hands. Ryan could not quite see and stretched upwards to gain a better view. 
It was small, slightly larger than the palm of his hand. It had two sides which opened in the middle, separating into two surfaces on each side. It was black on the exterior and white inside. There were also strange markings. How his subject used this strange object was fascinating to him – after some time the man would drag his fingers over the inside and a sheet of material – an impossibly thin sheet – would be carried over with it. They were pages, like that of the sheets in a scroll. He would then gaze intently at the object for a time and repeat the ritual.
Unexpectedly the procedure was interrupted by a cough from one of the others in the room and Ryan was forced back down, away from the window and down to the ground. The light vanished abruptly, snuffed out, and the house fell into darkness. There was no more to see that night.

Chapter Nine

The sun rose early that time of year and the men rose with it. Dressed and on their way before most of the village, they passed unnoticed up the gentle slope to the square and out the western gate to the fields. There was no sign of the women when they entered the yard, the house was silent, so they went to the small barn by the house to examine the day’s work ahead of them.
The barn was empty – there was no machinery, no piles of hay, nothing that is usually found in barns around the world. There were however, signs of insects and rodents – and the men set about clearing the area which took most of the morning to complete. When Jim’s watch indicated eleven, they exited the building covered in sweat and dirt, heading for the shade of the single tree in the yard, slightly taller than a bush. It sat on the northern edge of the yard next to a low rock fence. They sat around its base, squashed down under its branches, drinking warm water from a jug. 
There came a familiar voice from the side of the house – Emily strolled over, her new dress fanning gracefully about her calves and she was smiling. “Finished already?” she asked.
“We’ve still got a long way to go,” Sammy replied, laughing loudly and climbed out from under the tree to meet her.
“What are you doing in there?”
“We’re moving in.”
She was visibly excited. “Yes!” she said, almost running the remaining steps between them. 
The two women had been making do with a combination of hand signals and intuition, but for her this was not enough. She had been striving to understand the odd language these people spoke and it was not easy. There were similar words and phrases but they did not seem to add together. There were combinations that were definitely unusual, some words were almost understandable but used out of the normal context. It was a perplexing mash of words and sounds – and it left Emily with the impression that she had taken on a task that was too big for her. What writing implements she had were expended over those last two nights and she was trying to commit as much to memory as possible.
Jim spoke from under the tree “How’s the translation’s going?” he asked pointedly.
She sighed, extending her hand out, and indicating ‘so-so’.
“How’s this…?” Jim tested out a phase he’d learnt the night before and succeeded only in making Daniel burst out laughing and correct the pronunciation.
“‘Thank you’ – right?” Emily knew what Jim had said, despite his clumsy attempt.
Jim climbed out from under the shade with a groan, beckoning the others to follow suit. They were together again and they needed to discuss the things the men had spoken about the night before.
Jim took her arm. “It’s a good thing you’re here, Em. I need your help with something.”
“Okay,” she said, narrowing her eyes slightly.
“Can you think of anything we might need here: like tools, something for the kitchen, maybe?”
She had been going over in her mind everything that she’d been missing for the last few days. Now, faced with the prospect of gaining at least some of those items, she jumped forward and grasped both of Jim’s arms ecstatically. “Oh, yes!” she exclaimed. “Shampoo…!” Stepping back, she ran her hands through the growing stubble on the top of her head, now as long as her fingernail. “And a brush...”
Jim shook his head. “Anything practical?” he asked with a slight smile on his lips.
Her smile was broader. “You can’t get anything more practical than shampoo and a brush.”
He sighed. “Alright… anything else…?”
“I could use some proper paper. And some pens.” She stopped, realising what his original question meant. “So, we’re going back down?”
He nodded, “Yeah, the next storm. I figure there’s a lot of stuff down there that we can really use. We could do quite well with a little planning. If anything it’ll give us a chance to properly catalogue what’s down there.”
She clicked her fingers, something occurring to her: “I’ll go and ask Joanna if we need anything. Oh…” She looked at the short young man in their midst. “Ah, I’ll ask Daniel - to ask Joanna - if we need anything. Daniel?” She smiled sweetly.
“I will be glad when you can all speak properly so I can stop this back and forth talking for you,” he said, moving back to the house.
“Honey, we are speaking properly,” she shouted at his back gaily. “I don’t quite know what it is you lot speak, but it’s not proper!”
“There are more of us,” he shot back.
“He’s right, though,” Emily remarked, watching Daniel disappear around the side of the house to the doorway. “We’ve got to get the hang of this new way of speaking. I’m working on it but it’ll take a while. I’m having trouble with how it fits together, but I’ll work it out.”
“So,” Jim started back on their original conversation.  “Stationery…”
“Shampoo, hair brush,” Emily added again.
“I got that, thanks.”
“Why do you want a brush for?” Lewis asked with a smile. “You’ve got no hair,” he observed.
Emily gave Lewis a mock stare for a moment and then she started to laugh at the stubble on his scalp. He had the same amount as her, they all did. “Looked at yourself lately?” she quipped and then her expression changed as new things came to mind.  “Hey! A mirror! Make up!”
She was getting carried away with the exercise. “Easy,” Jim cautioned. “I think your starting to push your luck there. Do you still have that stores list?”
She nodded and started after Daniel excitedly “I’ll get it,” she called back, already vanishing around the side of the house.
“Anything you guys need?” Jim asked, still watching the place where she had last been.
“I’d like a change of clothes,” Sammy suggested, “This is definitely not my colour.” He was grasping the front of his blue utilities.
“I was thinking we could sell some supplies down at the village and buy some local clothes. It will help us blend in a bit. Emily looks like she fits in better in that dress.” Jim was getting tired of wearing the same blue overalls as well.

Joanna had finished baking some of the yellow bread for their lunch, which they had an hour later. By that time they had perused the list that they had taken from the stores and marked the areas that offered the best chance of providing what they needed. Joanna was excited about new cooking utensils and some of the food stuffs – although she tried hard to hide it from the newcomers.
After lunch Daniel led Jim to the back of the barn where the cart was located. It was a two wheeled contraption, small enough to be pulled by a single man but able to be loaded so that it could contain enough supplies for two men to pull. This was Jim’s intention: to stock it with supplies and for them to pull it home. He was sure this was a workable plan as most of the journey was along the flat plain. There would be a brief downhill run from the installation to the edge – then an easy pull along the flats. The ground was hard, not sandy, and he was sure that the wheels would not bog down. They would construct a bridge across the narrow river bed prior to the journey using pieces of timber. 
Jim looked about the plot and out into the surrounding country and his heart sank. Where were the trees? Where would he find a long enough plank to make the bridge? The answer was nearer to home than he first suspected. The house and the barn were constructed of mud brick and wood – large planks supported the roofs of both buildings – but from where were they sourced? Jim turned to Daniel for the answer.
“Most of the wood for the houses come from the mountains to the west. There are trees there, I am told.” He pointed in the right direction. Out in the distance there were mountains, blue and imposing, peeking over the hills off to the west. They couldn’t have been more than half a day’s walk away.
“We’ll need to go and have a look, you and I,” he remarked to Daniel, “tomorrow if we can.”
  
The afternoon was taken up with further preparation for the four men to bunk down in the barn. They had things in a presentable state by midafternoon and left for the town to gather their belongings, leaving the two women the task of preparing the evening meal. The aroma wafted upon the breeze and made their mouths water with anticipation as they left the farm behind them. They were keen to return as soon as possible and so they hurried along the small path up to the east gate of the town.
There was activity there. A small gathering in the square was in progress. There were older men playing small stringed instruments whilst the youngsters danced about in the square. These were largely happy people. They did not have much – they had no creature comforts of the past modern world – but they used what they had to survive and continue humanity through the past centuries regardless.
This time they did not cease their activity when the tall strangers passed by. Some turned to look and just as quickly turned back to the music and dancing. The men smiled and nodded to all who caught their eye – and many started to smile back. They began to feel that these people were accepting them, perhaps not as part of the village, but as no threat to the peace of the town.
Daniel’s house was as they left it that morning. The men had already packed their things into the packs they brought from underground. It was a simple matter of picking them up and returning to the farm – which they did – slowly marching up the hill in single file and then back through the fields to the plot and to the barn. The sun was low in the sky, there were long shadows across the fields and from the windows of the house warm lights emanated, welcoming them home.
With their packs deposited in the barn and their things laid out, they entered the house for supper. Jim detailed his intention of travelling north using the directions that Daniel had gained from his countrymen – and they further discussed the construction of a bridge over the narrow, dry river bed. They found themselves talking of pleasanter things later into the night – sometimes there was silence punctuated by the crackling of the fire. Joanna sat in her chair listening to their strange talk, not understanding the words, but enjoying the company.

They were not entirely comfortable in their new surroundings, but the general consensus was that things were slowly getting better. The men had slept on the hard floor on the blankets and when they woke they were stiff and sore. Some amount of stretching was required before they could face the day – and breakfast, which Joanna had been preparing for an hour before they had risen. Their stomachs full, the men planned for their day - Jim and Daniel packed for a day’s travel west and the remainder set about discussing the construction of beds for their new home.
The two of them walked for several hours, pulling the cart behind them, taking several detours around plots of the short, yellow grain fenced in neat squares. The flat fields eventually gave way to undulating hills and finally to a range of short mountains forming a rim around the agricultural area. These mountains were obviously where the timber was sourced as they were sparsely wooded. As they entered this region Jim noticed only one species of tree – a short, rough barked eucalypt – an iron bark. 
The workmen there were taller than the farmers below but not by much. They were wearing the same customary rough garments and they were bearded and dirty. Sitting in a group by their timber hut on the top of a small hill they rose when the two pulling the cart came into sight, viewing them suspiciously.
Once they had parked the cart, Daniel walked carefully over to the group of workers near their hut. He spoke to them for a time about what was needed and then returned to Jim and the cart.
“They can cut us the three planks that you want but it will cost us. What have we got to offer them?”
Jim nodded, took off his watch and passed it to Daniel. “Tell them what it does.”
“Anything else…?”
“Wait…” Jim went through his pack. “…a compass.”
“Right, pass it here. I will see how I go.” He went back up the hill.
He talked with them further - this time armed with the attempted payment, and haggled for a good half an hour. With a smile Daniel walked back down to his friend and announced the good news. “They are not sure what use either of those things we gave them will be, but they are willing to accept them as payment. They will cut up the wood and load it on for us. Now…” he rubbed his hands together, looking into the bag Joanna had provided, “…let’s see what my mother has packed us for lunch.”
It took them double the amount of time to return to the farm and both men were exhausted. Jim and Daniel took a light supper, collapsed onto their blanket beds early and promptly fell asleep. Sammy and Lewis had made some headway in making their new abode more comfortable – there were the makings of three cots in the barn, still waiting tough material for the mattresses – and Jim was a little disappointed that they were not completed on his return. This feeling soon evaporated into a deep sleep.

***

The sun was rising from the east and the village was coming to life when a cart was pushed through the street laden with lumber. Noisy, it drew attention and heads turned. 
The woman amongst the group was dressed as the men were, a hardy blue material for her pants and jacket and black boots. Her hair was once painfully short and a source of ridicule amongst the local women. It was now was growing and starting to take its natural colour, a soft brown.
The cart was filled with three planks of timber, obviously taken from the mountains. Two of the tall men pulled the cart along while the others walked next to it, talking quietly to each other. The words were indecipherable through the noise of the crowd and probably not able to be understood – it was well known that they spoke a different tongue. 
Victoria took a particular interest in the passing of these strangers. She stood among her peers but was as tall as these strangers and was constantly reminded of that fact. Even though she was from the most prominent family of the area, she was the butt of jokes and had been ridiculed all her life. She felt alone in that town, surrounded by people that would never quite accept her. She had little friends and no one for which she had the closeness that she so longed for. As she watched that procession she came to the realisation that she was not quite alone as she first thought – that she was not the only person – the only woman – like her. She smiled for the first time in many years as they passed without noticing her. 

***

As the group left the outskirts of the village the ground began to slope downwards to the plain and the work became harder. There was no clear path and the cart was difficult to move through the terrain. By mid-morning they had reached the edge of the plain and they stopped to take water. Jim was lamenting the loss of his watch; he had to rely on Daniel’s ability to judge the time in order to plan out their next step.
The journey to the river was slow and painful. Blisters were appearing on the men’s hands and they had to change sides repeatedly. The sun was hot and made their hands slippery from sweat. The ground, whilst flat, was rocky and they were finding several of the larger rocks difficult to pull over. Emily walked ahead, directing them around some of the more difficult sections. Periodically Daniel would correct their course, gazing off into the distance at the tower rising from the hills at the southern edge of the plain.
They almost ran into the ravine before they saw it. Emily was looking ahead, judging where to pass the cart when she stumbled. She had almost fallen into the narrow, shallow channel that ran in front of her. She let out a cry and the men stopped suddenly, still some distance behind.
“Here it is!” she yelled over her shoulder.
Daniel and Jim let the handles at the front of the cart go. They stood upright again, stretched and then joined her at the edge.
“Is this to best place to cross?” Jim asked, looking up and down the cut through the landscape.
“It does not matter really,” Daniel exhaled, wiping the sweat from his brow. “It is like this all along. We just need to be able to find it again next time.”
“We’ve got that covered,” Jim said with confidence.

After discussing the mechanics of the operation, the group divided into three teams and set to work. Emily prepared the camp they would use for the day, stretching the sheet of canvas-like material over the gap and placing rocks on the edges to keep it there against any wind that may come. Daniel and Lewis started on a hole, not large but deep, near the edge. Once done, they set about sinking one of the planks into it. It leant slightly to the north-west but it achieved its purpose. It would draw them back to this place again when needed. Jim wanted a red flag of some sort attached to the top but none could be sourced. He believed it would serve them when the necessity came to return to this place.
Jim and Sammy had started on the bridge. It was a simple design: two planks stretched over the gap at the required spacing to accommodate the wheels of the cart. Jim was at the south end, cutting notches in the bank to allow the planks to be laid down in position. Sammy worked at the other end in an identical manner.
Stretching the remaining two planks over the channel was not an easy task, but between the men they were able to achieve it without too much difficulty. Finally, the cart was rolled carefully over the bridge to the other side, then back again. The bridge was deemed a success.
It took less than half a day to walk to this place and another hour to construct the bridge. Emily and the men retired into the shade for a meal and rest, as was the custom, leaving Jim standing on the south bank looking over the plain.
“Dan…” he called out to the shade and Daniel therein. “Who owns all this space?”
“Nobody does. It is worthless.” Daniel was starting his lunch.
Jim looked back over the ground ahead and asked, “Worthless? Why?”
Daniel went straight to the point, “The ground is too hard to work and it is too far away from the mill. It is not…” He stopped, thinking for the word.
“…Practical,” supplied Emily, using the English word.
“What if we could make it practical?” Jim suggested.
Sammy spoke up, “What are you thinking about now?”
“Well, why pay rent on land back there when we could set ourselves up out here. There’s plenty of space.”
Daniel was not convinced. “The ground is still too hard to work.”
“What if we had some help? Like a… tractor, say.”
Sammy leant out into the sun, shading his eyes as he looked up at Jim standing on the bank. “Was there a tractor in the installation?” he asked. “I didn’t see one.”
“It’s just a thought. If there was one and we could get it going…”
“We could support a lot of people on a big plot out here,” Sammy added, “Are you thinking of bringing people out and working this place instead?”
“More of you people? I do not know if I could stand anymore of you.” Daniel did not seem to be joking.
Jim looked down toward the shade, and asked the young man, “We’re not that bad are we?”
Daniel had his opinions about the group and about Jim. He didn’t disguise the fact. “You think too much and you do not leave things as they are.”
“There were these creatures long ago called ‘dinosaurs’ – they probably felt the same way. And you know what happened to them?” Jim had jumped down and was standing just outside the shade talking directly to Daniel.
“No. What happened to them?”
 “They died off. You lot living here - you’re not doing too well. You can only grow enough to survive – and what you’re growing isn’t all that good. You could do so much better.” He swept his arm out, encompassing the entire region. “Mankind spent hundreds – no thousands of years perfecting things – and now, look at this place. We’ve gone backwards.”
“My father once told me it was your people that made the world what it is today. There is a curse on this world – and you brought it here – you people arrogantly used this land until there was nothing left and my people had to live with the consequences. Now you’re telling me you want to start again…” He was offended, and seemingly angry. “You have big ideas yes, but have you really considered all the effects. One day someone may have to pay for your big ideas.”
“Easy...” Jim placated him. This conversation had gone too far. “I’m not talking about changing the world – I’m just talking about us doing a little better. Just changing this little bit of the world… and today we’re starting here.”

***

Once again the halls of this dark place heard the steady sound of his feet upon the dusty concrete floor, this time with properly fitted boots. The torch in his hand cut through the darkness and he knew the way now – everything was the same here. This was simply another identical place to the one before. Here and there he saw bodies – old and decayed, lying upon the floor where they had died maybe hundreds of years before. They were all the same, dressed has Jim himself had been over two weeks ago, in the loose, white clothes, no shoes, and grey metal arm band. There were no new live ones this time. His search was complete and he made his way back to the camp he had set up with Daniel the night before. Time had more meaning now – the first thing he had done on returning to the installation was to retrieve another wrist watch – he knew that he’d been down there nearly twenty four hours. He’d been searching for the last two after he had woken that morning.
There was no light coming from the small four bedded medical bay ahead – the light instead came from the right, from within the office space behind the frosted glass wall. He continued along and stopped where the wall ended and became an opening. He looked in, searching for a sign of his friend. The light was to the back and around a corner – where there were toilets and a small common room. He called out, hoping that Daniel would return quickly.
The light changed, it was flickering and moving wildly. The holder of the torch was approaching. The light became brighter and then finally Daniel appeared. “Anyone else?” he asked hopefully.
“No. That’s it. Let’s get our friend up and moving. We’ll head back up to the camp.”
They walked one after another across the corridor to the medical bay opposite. Yesterday, they had laid the man Jim had found onto the nearest bed and tended to him. When the two of them returned the bed was empty.
Jim looked to Daniel. “Where’s he gone?”
Daniel didn’t understand, pushing Jim slightly to the side to see. “What?”
Jim panned his torch through the bay, but the new man was nowhere to be seen. “You were supposed to be watching him,” he accused.
Daniel weakly defended himself. “He was sleeping.”
There were prints left in the dust and grime, boot prints – his own, and the marks from Daniel’s soft shoes. There were also footprints which ran like a trail out into the passage from where they had come.
“Where’s he gone?” Jim asked himself in an urgent whisper.
Walking over to the entrance of the corridor he followed the trail which turned down to the left. As he entered the passage again he turned to the left to follow the prints and suddenly looked up. There was a pain across the back of his head and darkness was returning to his world. He was on the floor again, his torch out in front of his face – and his view fading into blackness again. There was shouting, but he was beyond caring and those raised voices faded as well as he sank down into the well of unconsciousness.

Chapter Ten

Ryan sat unobtrusively in the corner of the anteroom, waiting for his turn. The room was lavish compared to many of the houses that he had lived in, but simple compared to many of his employers. It was furnished with rugs of many patterns and colours, furniture constructed by craftsmen and paintings masterfully created. The very best of the region’s wealth was within this very room. The only other occupant sat opposite in a comfortable chair. He was well known – or at least his class was well known – he was a member of the Judiciary, a defender of the law. His dress made his vocation obvious, a finer weave of cloth made his cloak rich and expensive. The Judge sat with his face down, looking intently into an object that was strangely familiar. The urge was too difficult to resist.
Ryan stood before the Judge, attracting his attention. “Excuse me, Your Worship,” he said.
 The robed man looked up at the speaker, frowned and placed the object down onto his lap. He raised an eyebrow and asked, “What is it, my friend?”
Ryan lowered his gaze, standing in the humblest way he knew, making his request. “My apologies for the interruption - I was wondering if I may humbly ask a question of Your Worship?”
The Judge seemed disarmed by Ryan’s stance and nodded his permission.
“What is that object you have been gazing at for these last few moments?” Ryan was indicating the brown leather covered object that sat in the Judges lap.
“Ah…” he said, taking it up again and holding it out for Ryan to see clearly. “This… is a ‘book’. It’s very old. Take it.”
Ryan held the book carefully, opening the cover as he had seen the dark-skinned man do many nights before. At this close range he could see what was inside it. Pages, like a scroll, laid out one after another and bound in the centre. All over the pages there were markings, but unlike any he had ever seen. “Writing…” he said to himself absently.
“Yes, writing indeed. It’s very old,” his worship explained, “Now only judges speak that language and only we have these books.”
That’s not completely true, Ryan thought. Perhaps the knowledge I have could be of some use… Ryan knew he had to play this very carefully. One misplaced word could be disastrous. “I would not presume to contradict Your Worship,” he started, resuming his supplicatory tone and stance, “…but I have seen one of these ‘books’ before – and not in the hands of a judge.”
The robed figure leant forward. He seemed interested in Ryan’s declaration – very interested. There was no time for the young spy to elaborate. They were interrupted by the sound of a throat being cleared. There were two doors in the anteroom. One Ryan had entered from - the other led into Lord Delvore’s study. Standing at this door was a servant.
“Your Honour… my master, Lord Delvore apologises for keeping you.” He gave a swift and disdainful look at Ryan and then continued: “If you would...?”
The judge seemed deep in thought as he stood, his face frowning with concentration, and he seemed to have forgotten that Ryan still held the book in his hand. 
“Your Honour…?”
When he had turned back, Ryan held out the book to return it. “Your ‘book’, Your Honour…”
“We need to talk further about this matter, my friend,” the Judge said. As the door to the study was firmly shut, Ryan looked down at his hand that, until recently, had held the book. Slowly and deliberately he closed it into a fist. 

“They’ve moved to the farm?” Delvore asked him, squirming uncomfortably in his chair. 
His employer was obviously unwell. Ryan could tell that whatever ailed the lord would be the death of him, and that it would only be a matter of months, if that. Delvore’s skin was a particular grey that meant only one thing and it hung over the old man’s bones like a thin sheet. His face was angular and severe, and his eyes bulged dangerously. 
“Yes, my lord,” Ryan confirmed, “they have converted the barn into accommodation for the men. The woman is staying in the main house.”
It would be some time before Ryan was called into Lord Delvore’s inner office. It was here that his employer’s most treasured items were found. His desk was made from the finest wood, topped with leather. There were paintings on the walls and the floors were covered in fine rugs. A gentle light was coming through the multi coloured glass window from behind his lordship sitting at the desk. There was a large fireplace to his left which was not lit. Presently the Judge that Ryan had met earlier was sitting in front of it in a leather chair. His legs were crossed over, relaxed.
Ryan continued his report: “They stay on the farm most of the time. I’m sure Daniel is grateful for the extra help. Ah…” he looked up in thought, then added, “…there have been some comings and goings – one trip to the mountains for lumber. They carted that out onto the plain.”
Delvore looked confused. “The plain… whatever for…?”
“I couldn’t follow them out there - as you can understand - there is nowhere that I could observe them undetected. I had to wait until they returned that evening and then travel out the next day. They’ve built a bridge, my lord.”
Delvore looked at his assistant with a frown, he did not understand. Ryan then felt compelled to explain. “There’s a narrow channel, a dry river bed, my lord. It runs across the plain half a day’s walk out. They’ve placed two planks over the gap as a bridge. It is obviously for the cart they pull around. Your next question undoubtedly would be where they were going after they’d crossed it. What you call “The Stairs” lies in a direct line from the bridge and I suspect that’s where they went two days ago. They haven’t returned as far as I am aware.”
The Judge hadn’t spoken at all up to this point and when he did his voice held none of the interest he had shown earlier. Ryan surmised that he had connected the book with these newcomers automatically and was doing a very good job disguising the importance of what was occurring. “I suspect you are paying too much attention to these foolish people,” the judge declared evenly. “All of this means nothing, my friend.”
Delvore was still angry about the events that had transpired over two weeks earlier. Ryan hadn’t arrived before then and he’d had to rely on hearsay to understand what had occurred. There had been a loss of face and one of these tall strangers was involved – and Daniel the farmer. 
“I don’t like being crossed, Tobias,” the landlord growled, bristling with barely concealed annoyance. “If there is some plan underway, I would prefer to see it coming a long way off.” The master looked down and muttered under his breath: “What are they up to?” Ryan heard him clearly. He was trained not miss anything. 
Tobias entered into the issue again. “My friend, if they wish to wander about on the plain and frequent old monuments then let them.” He shook his head dismissively. “While they’re out there they aren’t bothering us, are they?”
The master let it go. He sighed. “Of course you’re right. All the same, I’ll keep an eye on them.”
Ryan was looking out the window. He had developed a technique long ago where he would seem disinterested, distracted. He would use this whenever there were important issues at hand that his employers ought not to be speaking about in his presence. He gave them the impression that he’d not heard a thing and thereafter they would be more likely to raise all manner of issues with him present. Nothing passed him unnoticed, of course, but they didn’t know that. Information is gold, he’d been taught. Whoever has it can control anyone. Right at this moment he could sense what the master was thinking without even looking at his face: Why can’t he pay attention?
Delvore spoke his name, and when Ryan turned, looking slightly vague, the master continued his questioning, annoyance showing clearly on his face. “Is there anything else you have seen - anything that might be important?”
Ryan stole a quick glance at Tobias who was looking neutrally at him. In some circumstances that would have been enough for another in the room to know he was lying, but in this situation he was perfectly safe. He stood confidently and there was no hint of hesitation in his voice. “No, my lord…”
The master waved him out, not even looking the spy in the face as he dismissed him. “Very well, back to work then. You can go.”
Ryan bowed gracefully and departed through the double wooden doors that led to the anteroom, closing them behind him. The room was empty of visitors and servants so Ryan leant an ear to the door and listened intently to what conversations he had left behind.
Tobias: “You are not looking well, my friend.”
Delvore: “It’s just a lack of sleep.”
Tobias: “You and I know full well it’s more than that.”
Delvore: “Lack of sleep, nothing more.” He sounded a little irritated at the judge’s insight. Nothing was said for a moment and then the judge must have decided to change the subject.
Tobias: “Have you considered my suggestion?”
Delvore: “He is not ready.”
Tobias: “Surely you’re not still considering your first born?”
Delvore: “Are you serious?” The master’s voice showed some strain. “I’m not yet convinced that son of mine would not run my estate into the ground. He has no sense at all.”
Tobias: “I think he would make an excellent leader – with the proper direction of course.”
Delvore: “Surely it’s up to me.”
Tobias: “Her height will be a disadvantage – she is far too imposing.”
Delvore: “And as you’ve said before: Imposing women don’t make good wives. But I need a strong, sensible leader – and she is both of those.
Tobias: “Most certainly she is.”
Ryan could hear the judge’s chair being slid back. He was standing. The meeting was coming to an end.
Tobias: “I had best be going. Now, you get some sleep. And do think about this further…”
Ryan heard nothing else. He’d pulled away from the door and slunk back into the shadows that hung in the corner of the room. He was secreted just in time, for the doors opened again and Tobias the Judge entered, closing the wooden doors behind him. 
When he was sure the judge was not followed out, he slipped from obscurity. Tobias was startled by his sudden appearance but recovered quickly.
“Ah, good – Ryan, you’re still here,” he said, starting to take something from within his robes.
Ryan bowed his head in submission, but as he did he kept a wary eye on what was being extracted from the Judge’s garb.
Tobias was confident. “I’d like you to work for me,” he offered, holding out a small package, a wrapped document, for Ryan to take.  “Do you know what this is?” he asked.
Slowly Ryan untied the binding to the package and looked it over briefly. “You are giving me a Pass?”
“You’ll be doing the Judiciary a service, Ryan, and that will not go unrewarded.” The exchange of the pass had left the judge slightly nervous. He looked about the room.
Ryan could not help but form a slight smile on his lips. There were secrets everywhere but not here. None of the staff under Delvore’s employ were clever enough to hide their presence from the trained spy. No-one was listening, he was sure of that.
Further negotiation was needed - there were still current loyalties to consider. “I’m still retained by Lord Delvore,” Ryan stated plainly.
Tobias leaned in and whispered carefully. “You needn’t stop your employ here. I would require you to report to me first – then I will decide what our lord Delvore learns.”
So, the judge and Delvore are not as tight as I thought. They’re keeping secrets from each other. Ryan bowed in acceptance. And I thought this place would bore me…  “Yes, your Worship,” he agreed, and the deal was made. 
Tobias smiled to himself and he resumed the conversation in a normal voice seamlessly – a sign that the matter had concluded. “You’re from Nharah?”
Ryan smiled. “Khondoh, actually…”
“Really…?” Tobias seemed surprised. “Your accent…”
“Thank you,” Ryan had spent many months perfecting the various accents that were heard around the kingdom. 
“This is a little… out of the way for you,” the judge commented.
Ryan had lost his smile; he now regarded the judge evenly. “In my profession…” he commented quietly, “…there are times when one needs to disappear for a while.”
“Yes,” replied the judge with all seriousness. “…mine too.”

***

Jim groaned. The sharp pain in his head brought him back into consciousness. He still couldn’t speak or move, but he was quickly regaining his ability. There was a voice above him and then a foot nudged him in the ribs.
“You’re waking up are you? Come on mate, look alive.”
He groaned again and managed to roll over onto his back. The pain in the back of his head doubled, causing a string of expletives to escape his lips. Jim had recovered enough now to speak intelligently. Now he accused his assailant: “You hit me!”
A face looked down at him, contorted with determination and cruelty. “I’ll do more than that if you don’t get up,” the face ordered.
“All right, all right...” Jim rolled over again, this time coming onto his hands and knees. Directly below him, the concrete floor was sticky and red from his blood. Slowly and unsteadily he stood, his vision wavering, the sound of waves surging through his ears. He staggered backwards and came up against the wall and this hard and resolute surface steadied him. Gingerly he brought a hand up to the back of his head and found another jagged gash on his head, at the back this time, hidden by his short hair which was hard and matted.
His attacker stepped forward – sure that Jim was incapable of defending himself – and hissed menacingly. “Your friend doesn’t know anything – so you’d better start talking.”
There was no fear. Only anger welled up in him. Jim, although vulnerable, defied the instruction. “No offence, mate, but piss off.” He tired to stand taller when he added: “Go on – hit me again. You’re getting nowhere talking to me like this.”
Somewhere out of eyeshot Daniel shouted. He was up against the wall inside the shadow cast by their enemy. “Leave him alone!” he yelled again, stepping into the light that emanated from the torch in the unknown man’s grasp.
“Are you all right?” Jim asked him, concerned about what had transpired while he was lying senseless on the floor.
“I am not hurt.”
Relieved, Jim pulled himself back up off the wall and proceeded to stand and lurch towards the medical area – moving from wall to wall.
“Hey! Where are you going?” The light shifted as the man who had hit him was advancing behind. 
“To put something on my head,” Jim explained, starting to swear again when he placed his hand back on the wound. He could feel the warm trickle of fresh blood running down the back of his neck.
It was as dark as he remembered it to be, this medical unit he’d been in some weeks ago when he first awoke. Some light passed in through the entrance from the torch still being held in the corridor. He grabbed a bed and used it to steady himself then traversed its length, finally stopping at a metal trolley at the end. The light improved and Jim was aware that someone was behind him.
“Where is everyone?” the assailant asked, the voice had lost some of its aggression but confusion had moved into the gaps. “Where are the medics?”
Jim stopped rummaging through the trolley, stood up straight and turned around. He’d taken some time to come to his conclusions - this man knew straight away what had transpired. He was not one of them, an innocent. “You know about this place?” he asked.
“Of course I do.” Then the stranger asked: “You’re one of the civilians, aren’t you?”
“What do you think?” Jim was giving nothing away. He turned back and resumed his search, finding what he was looking for. Gingerly he placed a white patch over the back of his head.
“Where are the medical teams?”
“Not here obviously - dead long ago I’d say. Get used to it.” Daniel had followed them in and Jim threw a bandage over to him.
“Do you want me to have a look?” Daniel asked him, starting to unravel the packaging around the bandage.
Jim shook his head. “I’ll need to clean it,” he explained. “There’s too much blood in my hair to have a good look. Can you help me here?” In a few moments Jim’s head had a clean white covering wrapped around it. When it was done, he went to his pack that was sitting on one of the other beds and swung it over his shoulder. “Get your stuff,” he ordered.
Daniel seemed confused. “We’re leaving?”
“Yeah...” He looked at the perplexed man standing just inside the doorway. “We’re done here,” he declared.
“Wait a minute,” the torch bearer exclaimed, “you can’t just say ‘they’re gone’ and just leave.”
“Sure I can. Just watch.” Jim did not even look at him but his voice was cold.
“We should take him with us,” Daniel said, motioning to the stranger.
“At this point I don’t care,” and then Jim added firmly, “…but we’re leaving.”
Jim waited as Daniel took up his pack. The young man did not look comfortable with the decision made. “We can’t just leave him here,” he said.
Jim was not listening to reason. He took from Daniel’s pack one of the remaining torches and wordlessly turned, marching down the passage toward the stairs at the end.
Daniel stood for a moment, staring at the newcomer then shrugged. Reluctantly, he turned and followed the bobbing and fading light as it departed down the corridor, leaving the last man standing there to his own devices.

Daniel was leaning over the rail, looking down the well that descended deep into the installation’s interior. “He is still following us,” he declared. They had stopped at Platform Four and for a moment the sound of feet on concrete could be heard, then it ceased.
“Let him.” Jim remained unconcerned about the follower’s welfare. “We’re here,” he announced, heading out through the open doorway and into the stores beyond.
There was no substantial light in the warehouse – the others were waiting at the back of the large storage facility and they still needed their torches to negotiate the area safely. The two of them made their way through to the tracks which circumnavigated the level and turned left. The road curved around until the ramp to Level Three began to climb and where they had set up their storeroom camp. They were expecting some reception but there was no one there. A small fire still burnt next to the start of the ramp and there was evidence of recent activity in the area. Already there was a pile of boxes at the base of the ramp – some opened – some unpacked. Jim and Daniel looked back to the storage area – searching for lights that would identify their friends’ location. There was a light, back around the corner and approaching them slowly and they both knew who that was.
Jim started to call out for his friends but the effort caused his head to ache and dizziness started to take him again. He sat on the edge of the ramp holding his head and waiting for it to clear. Daniel took up the call and was rewarded with an answer some distance away amongst the shelves. Then the lights became visible. They were like tiny fairies bobbing and weaving, and they became brighter and more distinct the closer they came.
The light of the man they had rescued from down in the lower level tentatively approached also, nearing the gathering of lights. Daniel walked over to him and they spoke for a short time and when the others had returned Daniel brought the newcomer over to them, attempting to introduce him. 
Jim remained sitting on the edge of the ramp, his aching head in his hands. Emily saw him, realising something was amiss. “What the hell happened to you?” she asked, plucking at the bandage wrapped about his head.
Jim looked up from his hands, glancing over to the man standing amongst the others and announced quietly, “I had an accident.”
“Really…?” There was a hint of scepticism in her voice.
Jim put a hand onto his forehead and screwed up his eyes. “Did you find something for a headache in any of the boxes?”
“Ah, no, sorry,” she apologised.
He nodded carefully and resumed his original position. Speaking, his voice arrived to her muffled and tinged with pain. “I need to lie down.”
She placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder then returned to the others. “So…” she was saying clapping her hands together.
Sammy answered her. “This is Mitchell,” he introduced the new man. “Daniel says they found him downstairs, like us, from the beds.”
Her voice seemed tense and suspicious. “What happened down there? What happened to Jim?”
“There was a misunderstanding,” Daniel explained.
Emily again: “What kind of misunderstanding?”
Then it was the new man, Mitchell, who answered. “I hit him,” he confessed. “Look, I’m sorry about that. I heard them talking and knew that they weren’t part of the medical team and that something had gone wrong. I acted, but I chose the wrong way to go. I didn’t understand what’s going on - I still don’t understand what’s going on.”
Jim needed to get up top, to a bed. The sooner they got past all these ‘pleasantries’, the sooner he could get on to what he needed. He stood and walked over to the group. “Let’s just forget it,” he said, then got down to business, asking Emily: “How’d the stock-take go?”
“We’ve got most of the things we came for. There’s hundreds of drums of what we think is fertiliser two levels down. We’ll be able to take three or four drums easy.” She went to the boxes, pointing at each one. “Food, stationary, tools... Here’s something…” She pulled a small packet out of a box she’d open earlier. “…look.” She threw it into Jim’s hands.
“Seeds,” he muttered, reading the label.
She continued going over the list. “Cooking utensils here – they’re for Joanna. The shovels, picks and hoes are over there against the wall.”
Mitchell watched her, outrage starting to show on his face. “Hey,” he declared, “I don’t think you can just take these things. They belong to the government.”
Lewis laughed. “What government? Here, we are the government.”
Jim was not laughing. He was staring at the confused face of Mitchell. This man was part of the system that put them here and he’d been left behind like the rest of them. Now that his anger had subsided, he saw the value of keeping this man on their side. He had answers and so did they. “Somebody better tell him what’s going on,” Jim said.
“Yeah,” Mitchell echoed Jim’s direction, looking more concerned by the second. “Somebody had better.”

The base camp had been improved from when they had been first there. There were five beds now – better beds – dragged up from the lower levels and cleaned up for use. There were new surrounds for the fire burning in the centre of the camp and one section had been partitioned off for Emily’s use. They were as comfortable as they could be under the circumstances, much more comfortable than the first time they had slept in this room.
On that first night the four had met Daniel there were many questions that remained unanswered. This time they were the ones being met – by one who had answers. He sat quietly, cross legged on the floor in front of the fire eating out of a tin of baked beans, his shaved head glistening with sweat reflected from the fire. He was still wearing the clothes that he had been woken in – his pyjamas – but his feet were wrapped in boots, supplied from the stores below. Sammy and Lewis were talking amongst themselves and Jim lay prostrate on his bed – an arm over his eyes shielding them from the light of the fire. 
Before Jim had closed his eyes, he’d seen Emily sitting opposite the new arrival, watching him intently. Finally she spoke. “You’re taking this really well,” she observed.
“It is what it is,” Mitchell replied. “I can’t change it. I’ve just got to move along with it.” He said nothing for a few seconds and then he asked her: “How long have you been awake?”
“Twenty days, isn’t it Jim?”
It was Lewis that answered: “Nineteen actually.”
There was another few seconds with the sound of a spoon rattling the inside of a tin. He was still eating but he’d been thinking all the while, this was evident by his next question: “What’d you need fertiliser for?”
“We’ve got a farm,” Emily replied. “Well, it’s Daniel’s actually.”
Daniel had been up the top gathering wood, now he was back – stacking it in the corner of the room. “It is not really mine, it is Delvore’s.”
“And who’s that?” Mitchell asked.
“The rich man who owns the town,” Lewis answered.
Sammy snorted. “There’s always one of those.”
“And do you know what to do with that fertiliser?” Mitchell was asking anyone. 
Jim sat up. The others sat in silence and Jim felt compelled to explain:  “We’re making this up as we go along.”
“I can help you,” he offered.
Emily stood, walking around the fire to where he sat. “You know what to do?” she asked him.
He nodded and Jim let out a groan and laid back on his bed.
Emily enquired about his condition at which he replied: “Nothing.” 
Coincidences again! Jim thought. Or is it someone pulling the strings. I hate that someone has control of all of this and I don’t know how they’re doing it, or why.

Jim woke with a start. He had been dreaming again, and as usual that dream disappeared from his memory immediately on waking. He stifled his annoyance, knowing that it was fruitless to try and recall, knowing that the pursuit of the memory would only drive it deeper into his subconscious. 
His head was still sore, but gone was the intense throbbing that threatened his concentration and sanity. Emily had taken on the task of dealing with his wound the night before, when the others had finally fallen asleep. She had scrubbed vigorously over the ragged gash until all of the dried blood had been cleaned away. Fortunately his hair had not grown back to the point where it needed to be cut away to gain access to the injury – once the area had been cleaned it was clearly visible. 
The skin was split, but not down to bone. It would eventually heal, although not as easily as his first laceration, over his right eye. That position was readily dressed so that the edges of the cut would join. This new wound would not go together well and would ordinarily require stitches – which they did not have. She decided to do the best she could – taping the scalp with wide cloth tape in an attempt to approximate the edges. 
When she was done he was a sight - thick tape crossed his head at varying intervals. But gone was the residue of blood that streaked down the side of his head and neck. He thanked her and fell into a shallow sleep, pain keeping him from getting too deep, until he was ready to dream.
It was morning, seven to be precise. The others were stirring, turning in their beds and groaning softly to themselves. Sammy was gently snoring to Jim’s left and the new man, Mitchell was sleeping on the ground next to…
He was missing. His bed of blankets was empty. There was no sign of him in the room. Jim threw his legs over the side of his bed and pulled himself to a sitting position. His head was still swimming from the abuse the day earlier but he knew he had to pull himself together, and that’s what he did.
He did not trust the new man. His head was proof that his impressions were right. He climbed up the ramp to the surface – up to the entry room and out into the light and heat of the morning. The sun was rising over the hills to the east, casting long shadows over the flat plain before him. Already it was hot – a mirage of water shimmered over the land out ahead. It was quiet. No birds flew overhead; there were no calls from wild animals. 
The air was still. 
Then he heard the sound of rocks falling. Was it behind him…? No, not right behind - back and to the left...
“You were right,” Mitchell confessed, coming into view. “Things have changed a lot here.”
Mitchell was standing next to the entrance, to the left and around a few steps. He was leaning against the wall and had been watching the sun rise slowly over the hills. Jim had not seen him immediately and Mitchell had quietly observed him as he gazed down upon the land ahead. 
Now that he had spoken, Jim turned to him. “I’d have to take your word for that.”
The newcomer stepped forward and waved his arm out over the space laid out before them. “There were farms all around here. But now…” He squinted, gazing out as far as he could see, searching for something. “Which way is the town?” he asked.
Jim looked out, getting his bearings. Then he pointed north. “Out there - a day’s walk.”
“How’s the head?” He now pointed at the dressing Emily had applied to the back of Jim’s head.
“It feels like someone hit me with something hard.” Jim gave him a steely look, but sometime during the night it had softened just a little.
“Sorry,” Mitchell replied, and he looked it. “That would be me.”
The two of them sat awkwardly on the rocky ground in front of the entrance. Jim’s decent was less than graceful. Mitchell’s was better.
Mitchell sighed and scratched his bald scalp. “They were supposed to wake us up nicely,” he declared.
Strangely, Jim hadn’t been listening all that closely. What? They didn’t push the new man too much the night before as he was fresh out of the freezer. He knew things and was going to tell them it all. This was the start of it. “Who’s that?” Jim asked. Despite his head and his hunger, he needed to know. He was hungry for the truth more than for breakfast.
“The medics…”
“Ah.” Of course, he thought. The medics… Jim chuckled. “I bet you got the shock of your life - waking up all alone.”
“It really wasn’t meant to be this way, you know?”
“What way was it supposed to be?” Jim was less than impressed with the process thus far.
“I don’t know, but definitely not like this.”
Jim stretched and massaged his right shoulder while they sat in silence. Their conversation had stalled. “So,” he started again, “what’s the story, Mitchell?”
“Call me Mitch?” Jim smiled, and so Mitch told him. “There was this crisis - they didn’t say what, they just gave the orders. My unit, fifty men, were brought here. We were the future of this country they said. We were the guardians of the new tomorrow. When the dust settled we were the ones who would pull mankind back off the endangered list. So they said. 
“Anyway, they brought us here, took us down to where you found me and they put us to sleep.” He corrected himself. “No, that’s not true, not all of us – but most of us. They said there wasn’t enough space or food to keep us all awake – most of us would be kept in ‘storage’ until things were right. Then they’d wake us up nicely. It was all crap. They dumped us down there and then forgot us.”
“Hold on,” Jim stopped him with a hand held out. “You volunteered?”
“I did. Some didn’t. It didn’t matter. There were orders and people there to make sure they were followed. There wasn’t a choice for anybody. I guess they thought things were pretty serious and they had to take strong steps.”
“I didn’t hear about any crisis.”
“It was probably top-secret, you know. I’d imagine they kept it quiet so they could get the job done without panic and riots. That’s what I’d do.”
“Well, it must have been pretty serious - like you said.” 
“How long have we been down there do you think?”
Jim thought about that for a second. “It’s got to be at least a hundred years. There are bodies down there that have been around a long time. Plus society up here has de-evolved a fair way – they don’t have anything that even resembles creature comforts. That’s got to take a while to happen. Maybe things got so bad up here - from this ‘crisis’ that everything just fell apart. Society broke down, now it’s the dark ages. There are lots of societies recorded in history that were quite sophisticated and then they… disappeared. Why couldn’t our ‘modern world’ do the same? I’ve been thinking more and more lately it’s been hundreds of years - three at least.” Jim smiled. “Don’t quote me on that.”
“Sure,” Mitchell agreed, standing. He announced: “Time for breakfast.”
“You’re what, Army?” Jim asked him, making a move towards the doorway and the underground. Mitchell nodded. “How does a civilian like me – and the others – find their way into a secure military installation out in the middle of nowhere and part of an operation like this? How did we manage to get mixed up in all this?”
Mitchell looked down at him sadly. He remembered this place, he remembered coming here, but the memory seemed painful. “When we first arrived, before we went down, there were trucks – lots of trucks - pulling up. They unloaded people – normal people like you – men, women, children – and they sent them in first.” The newcomer couldn’t look Jim in the eye. He was a soldier. He was part of the system that brought Jim and the others here. “Why you - why any of you…? I don’t know. All I can say is this: They had a plan in place a long time ago. Nothing like this is ever random. You were selected – then you were collected. Tell me, do you remember coming here, being unloaded like cattle and sent to the freezer? They made sure you didn’t.” 
The soldier had a look of purpose on his face, of resolve. “One thing is for sure: You were meant to be here – meant to be part of this new world – whatever that’s going to be.”
Chapter Eleven

She awoke and found two of her companions missing. Jim and the new guy, Mitchell had risen ahead of her and was probably up top catching the sunrise. The other men were stirring, rising just as she was starting up the ramp to the top. She left them to see where the other two had gone.
Half-way up the incline she met them heading down. Their voices had carried down to her and she knew something was up even before she saw them.
“Are you all right?” Mitchell was asking.
“Yeah,” Jim replied, “I’ll be okay.” But the confidence in his voice was eroding quickly. Perhaps he had stumbled. At the very least he ended up against the wall. When they came into view he was leaning there with Mitchell hovering next to him. He was holding his head. “Whoa, think I got up too quickly!”
“I’ll give you a hand,” offered Mitchell, taking him under the arm, leading him down to Emily.
Jim was pale, and sweat had formed on his face and dripped down onto the floor. His eyes were glazing over.
“You don’t look so good,” she observed. “What are you doing up?”
Jim smiled weakly. “I was just asking myself that same question.”
She was not impressed. “You idiot,” she declared. “You’ve probably given yourself concussion.”
Mitchell looked pained. “That was me,” he confessed.
“What?” Emily asked him, taking Jim under the other arm and pulling them both down to the camp.
“I gave him concussion,”
“Oh, yeah,” she agreed, then instructed him in what they were already doing: “Help me get him back to bed.”
Even then, as sick as he was, Jim was protesting. “There are things to do,” he said, barely keeping his legs moving.
“Let me worry about that. You’ve got the day off.” 
At the bottom of the ramp things worsened quickly. They were four steps from Jim’s cot when he indicated an imminent need. “Bucket,” he said through clenched teeth.
“What?” In retrospect Emily should have known what was next, asking him to explain was pointless. 
He repeated his request, more urgently: “Bucket!”
They had set him down on the bed gently, helping him to adopt a horizontal position but Jim didn’t stay that way for long. He rolled quickly and was hanging his head over the edge, facing to the floor.
Lewis was behind her looking down at Jim and stating the obvious. “He doesn’t look so good. I think he’s going to spew.”
They knew what they had brought up from below and a bucket was not one of those things. There was a desperate search for an alternative which resulted in one of the thick, clear plastic bags which contained clothing being emptied hurriedly. Jim deposited something altogether different in the supplied bag moments later – the sight was not pleasant, the bag being completely transparent. The others stood back while Jim noisily vomited and when he was done he rolled onto his back. His face wore a horrible pale colour and there was sweat on his forehead. He moaned quietly to himself.
“I think he’s done for now,” Emily observed distastefully. She turned to Mitchell, half accusingly she spoke: “You really hit him, didn’t you?”
He didn’t answer. He looked about to the others with a helpless and embarrassed expression.
Emily decided to take charge – Jim was obviously no use at all and likely would remain so for the rest of the day. There were clearly two tasks before them that day: the loading of the cart with their supplies and the care of Jim, who needed around-the-clock attention.
“I don’t think he’ll be up to moving today,” she said, taking the bag out of his hand.
Daniel looked on from the other side of the bed with obvious concern. “What’s the matter with him?” he asked her.
“Concussion, I think,” she explained, “…from the knock to the head.”
He understood that. “Ah. Will he be better tomorrow?”
“I hope so.” And she wasn’t just saying that. She looked up from the patient to the others, deciding what would be their next move. “You guys better get breakfast and then get to work,” she ordered finally, then detailed her own part. “I’ll watch him while you eat.”
“I don’t know whether I can now.” Lewis was looking down at the bag in her hand.
“Suit yourself… how about you watch him and I’ll eat?”
She took the bag up to the surface and dumped it far from the Installations entrance, returning to the others who had already started on their breakfast. The four of them collected their meal of yellow cakes and tinned fruit and sat up in the morning sun whilst Lewis remained watching the concussed Jim. Sammy relieved the young man and Emily directed the work party back down to the pile of supplies at the base of the ramp in the supply level. The next few hours were filled with the back and forth transportation of goods from supply to cart. Emily watched the proceedings carefully – directing the exact order of the items and where they were placed onto the handcart. The drums came first – rolled slowly up the ramps, lifted over the barricades and deposited noisily upon the wooden vehicle. By lunch time it was almost fully laden with only a few runs remaining. They rested against the wall and viewed the mornings work with satisfaction.

***

We had to get your attention.
Jim woke again, those words still passing through his mind. He was waiting for them to vanish into a haze of forgetfulness as so many other words had, but they remained echoing through his head. He opened his eyes slowly. It was not completely dark – their campfire burned a short distance away and without natural light he had no idea how long he had slept. He drew his left arm up over his face so that he could see his watch and tried to focus upon its face. 
Two o’clock… in the afternoon…?
Daniel’s face came into view behind the watch face. He was whispering unnecessarily: “You are awake? You had better take some water.”
Jim sat up again tentatively. He still had the headache but the dizziness and nausea had subsided. He took the bottle offered by Daniel and drained a few mouthfuls of water before laying himself down again.
Get my attention? Who wants my attention? He was trying not to think too hard on the words themselves, hoping the bigger picture that he knew was there - sitting just below the surface of his consciousness - would return. 
Attention… had to get your attention.
His vision faded again and he slipped into sleep again, not a natural slumber, a forced departure from awareness. Now he could see a face lined with years of toil and concern. The owner was likely to be Jim’s age in reality but a hard life had aged him beyond his years. There was a beard and hair greying in places, long and starting to thin. Old clothes – like Daniel’s – dirty from working the land. Eyes – pale blue, tinged with yellow – twinkling with the vigour of misplaced youth. Then the voice again – familiar, Jim had heard it before – but from where?
“We are sorry we had to resort to such measures. We had to get your attention.”
Jim opened his eyes. Daniel remained hovering in the periphery of his vision. The young man spoke. Perhaps it was Daniel he’d heard in his dreams. “Are you feeling better?” he asked.
No, the voice was not the same, but it was very close.
Jim held out his hand, stopping Daniel from speaking. He didn’t close his eyes this time; he didn’t lapse back into unconsciousness. This time the voice returned, playing in his head like a recording. It was coming back to him now.
“We need you to remember,” the voice was imploring him.
Now Jim answered, or maybe he had answered. He still wasn’t sure if this was happening right at that moment, or if it was in the past.
“I seem to have some trouble remembering,” he heard himself say.
“They tell me it has something to do with belief. It was always done this way but you modern men – you just won’t believe – and you won’t listen – so you don’t hear.” The voice and the face had synchronised. Now they were one. It seemed pleased that contact had finally been made, and preceded with the conversation. “Now,” it said confidently, “…to business.”
“Wait! Who are you?” Jim asked him. For some reason it was important.
The man laughed for a few seconds; perhaps he was amused by his own cleverness. “If you’d have believed, you’d have remembered.” He smiled wickedly, “…and we wouldn’t be having this conversation again.”
“We’ve met before?”
Where am I, outside?
The plain opened out in front of him. He could sense the imposing structure behind him, the open doors and its darkness beyond. There were dark clouds in the sky, rolling out into the centre of the plain. Lightning flashed in them and there was thunder rumbling in the distance. Rain had fallen, his bare feet sink fractionally into the dirt, now become mud. He looked down to see the brown ooze between his toes and then he looked up again into the face of the speaker.
Yes. He had seen this man before, in this place, before the long climb. 
The speaker nodded in recognition. “You do remember don’t you?”
Jim stretched out his hand, waving it out over the entire scene, encompassing it all. “I remember this,” he admitted, “and I remember you.”
The man took a deep breath. “They once called me ‘The Madman’. I look familiar don’t I?”
Jim nodded. He couldn’t quite recall where he had seen the likeness. His mind was still hazy from the effects of the concussion. He was working through this problem slowly – trying to gather his thoughts – trying to remember.
There were hands on his shoulders – shaking him. He was not asleep – only lost in his memory for a short time. Daniel had grown worried and tried to wake him. Jim opened his eyes slowly again and looked up into the face of his friend.
There it was. Younger – hair not yet greying from time and toil – less lines on the face, yet the same face – same shape – same eyes.
“What was your father’s name?” Jim asked him quietly.
“What…? My father…? Samuel. His name was Samuel.”
Perhaps he’d gone mad. Perhaps it was the effects of the injury, but he chuckled crazily to the farmer. “He’s talking to me,” he declared. “Dan, he’s talking to me.”
There was another voice now - a woman’s. She was standing over him as Daniel had done. There was no mistaking Emily. “He’s awake?” she asked.
“Yes. I think he’s… he’s… I cannot think of the word. He’s not making much sense.”
Jim smiled at her worried features. She spoke his name, but he didn’t answer, instead he closed his eyes again. “Be quiet, I’m thinking,” he ordered, finally returning to the scene he’d left.
“You’re Samuel. You’re Daniel’s father.” Jim answered the question as if there had been no time involved, no interruption from Emily and Daniel. It had been seamless.
Samuel smiled again, walking closer.
Jim looked around the side of the hill. The two of them were alone. “I don’t remember how I got here. Where is everyone?”
“You aren’t really here. You’re down there…” Samuel pointed to the ground, down where the installation descended into the bowels of the earth. “You’re lying on the floor,” he explained. “…you’ve been hit on the back of the head and you’re bleeding.”
Jim raised a hand and placed it to the back of his head – he couldn’t feel any injury. He drew has hand back and looked at it – there was no wet, red stain marking his fingers and palm.
“We are sorry we had to resort to such measures,” Samuel apologised, continuing: “…we had to get your attention.”
“Well, you’ve got it now. What do you want?” He was getting annoyed.
“We have a… job for you.”
“Job…?” Now he was annoyed and confused.
“It’s not quite the word I mean but it will do.”
Samuel was walking up the several steps that spanned between them. Now Jim could see where he’d started. He had been standing almost on top of the pile of rocks that Daniel had placed over his father’s body.
“You said to Samir that you thought that there was a plan in progress…” Samuel kept talking while he walked. “You said you were like a ‘puppet and someone was pulling the strings’. I’m telling you there is a plan – and you are right in the middle of it. You are part of something big – something great.”
“Samir? You mean Sammy?” Jim asked. Sammy believed in the great plan theory. Jim was still sceptical. “And you want me to do a ‘job’ in this plan of yours?”
“That’s right.” Samuel smiled warmly. “You have something important to do.”
“And what’s that?”
“All in good time… I’m here to help you to prepare for it – and to give some advice.”
“This dream gets better and better,” Jim was starting to sound sarcastic but the old man didn’t seem to notice.
“There is a great leader amongst you,” Samuel declared grandly, “…they hold the future in their hands and it’s your task to teach them – prepare them for this leadership.”
“Is that all? Okay, Samuel, who am I teaching then?”
“You already know – if you really think about it.”
“You’re posing more questions than you’re answering.”
Samuel smiled. “I’m not here to answer questions,” he explained. “I’m not allowed.”
“I see…” Well that’s helpful. “So I’m to just work this out myself?”
“Keep doing what you’re doing.”
“Great.” Jim chuckled.
Laughing started a pain in the back of the skull that soon spread to his entire head. He became painfully aware of his injury now and he also sensed that this audience was drawing to a close.
“What’s the advice then?” he asked, trying to hold the dream, the memory.
“When the time comes,” Samuel began, “…and you’ll know deep down when that is – trust yourself – do what’s in your heart - trust it. And trust it when you deal with people. If your heart tells you not to trust someone, then don’t. If it tells you to trust them, then trust them with your life.”
“That sounds like it came straight out of a self-help book,” he observed blandly.
Samuels face frowned in incomprehension. Slowly he became aware that his vision was starting to fade into darkness again and his surroundings fell into night. There was a high and full moon above him but Jim could no longer see the one who had spoke to him. Finally, when it was clear Samuel had vanished for good, he called out into the void: “Is that it?”
Out of the dark came an answer, quiet and reassuring: “There’ll be more,” it said, “I just hope I don’t have to hit you in the head again…”
It was not the moon. It was the light of a torch, darting this way and that at the end of the room. When the glaze fell from his eyes, he focused finally onto the face of Emily, the young woman he had brought out of the dark and who faced this new life and its challenges with strength and conviction. 

“That was weird.” Jim was blinking, trying to clear the remaining haze in his vision.
Emily agreed, “You’re telling me.”
Jim shook his head to clear away the last strands of cobweb from his mind. It was clearer now – he could recall the dream as if it had been real. Why did he remember this whilst all others faded quickly from memory on waking - perhaps it was in the very nature of his injury – perhaps his unconsciousness provided the additional step to remembering? This was a perplexing issue, but even more so the contents of the dream. Could someone or something be really controlling what was occurring here in this world? Could he really be a puppet on their stage? Keep doing what I’m doing? Do I have any free will at all?
“I got him to take a few sips of water,” Daniel was explaining.
“He needs to take more,” Emily decided. “Help me sit him up.”
The others moved to help him into a sitting position but he moved surprisingly fast – holding them back and managing to get up on his elbows himself - finally sitting.
Emily passed the clear plastic bottle over. He took a long drink and the cool liquid soothed his dry throat. He breathed deeply once he swallowed the last of the water and handed back the bottle.
“I think I’ll be all right,” he suggested.
Emily had it all planned out. “You should rest as much as possible – you’ll need to be better than this if you’re going to cross the plain tomorrow.”
Where had the time gone? “Are we ready to go?” he asked her, surprised at their speed.
“Of course… we haven’t been just sitting around you know.”
The others had appeared around him, looking just as worried as Emily had been. Lewis was the exception. He had a smile on his face. “She worked us hard,” he accused her.
His watch showed it was half past two – he’d lost half an hour. He turned and swung his legs out over the side of the cot, struggling against the dizziness that the change in position incurred.
“Easy,” Emily cautioned, coming to his side and stopping him from falling - Lewis on his other side with the intention of doing likewise.
There was still work to be done. On the surface, Sammy had been collecting firewood and Emily, Lewis and Mitchell went back up to help him.
Abruptly Jim felt the presence of another sitting on the cot next to him and he turned his head to face the young farmer. Daniel started to speak but was unable to find the words. He tried a second time but again he did not know what to ask. Jim watched him silently for a few moments more before voicing what was on Daniel’s mind.
“You’ve got a question for me, maybe about your father?”
Daniel found his voice. “You asked me his name. Then you said he was talking to you.”
“I was just dreaming,” Jim told him evasively. “It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Are you sure?” Daniel knew that Jim hadn’t fully convinced himself let alone his friend. “You don’t believe in the importance of dreams, do you?”
Jim shook his head. “I’ve never been one of those new-age-types.”
“What you were dreaming could be important, you know?” 
Jim was told it was important, but he didn’t want to admit it. “I was out cold. I could have been having tea with the queen. I could have been dreaming anything,” Jim argued.
“But you weren’t, were you? You were dreaming something specific - something about what we are doing.”
This was hard for Jim to admit. What Samuel had said was true. He didn’t remember because he didn’t think what he was dreaming was important – but it was. His silence spoke his answer.
“Tell me,” Daniel commanded.
Jim did not speak right away. He was putting together the correct sequence of events. They initially came in pieces and he needed them to be coherent. He took a deep breath and began.
“Your father – he looks a lot like you, only older – is standing up there…” He pointed to the ceiling where the others had gone. “…It’s been raining. There’s a thunder storm to the north – heading for the town. It’s late in the evening, the sun is setting. The clouds aren’t out to the west so I can see it. Anyway, he’s there and he’s asking whether I know who he is. That’s when I realise he’s your father and I asked you his name. Then he tells me there’s a plan and we’re right in the middle of it. I had a feeling there was something going on but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.”
“Basically we’re supposed to keep doing what we’re doing and it will all work out. That’s it…” He shrugged. “Of course, I could have dreamed that to satisfy a deep need for there to actually be something going on.”
His rumbling belly distracted him. “I’m getting hungry,” he announced. “Excuse me; I’m going to see what I can find to eat.”
Daniel seemed satisfied with Jim’s explanation thus far, deciding to help him with his hunger problem. “There are some tins they opened from lunch. Lewis called them ‘leftovers’”.
Jim looked over the remains of lunch sitting in a pile over by the wall. “Leftovers,” he said with a slight smile. “…right.”

The three of them returned half an hour later carrying bundles of firewood and placed their burdens over in the corner of the room ready for use in their small campfire. Emily checked on Jim’s recovery and then taking Lewis, she disappeared down the ramp to the store area holding a torch for light and taking writing material. They were cataloguing the remaining supplies. Sammy had been cutting wood and needed a short rest – he lay down on his cot and closed his eyes. Jim and Daniel had discussed as much as they were going to that day, and the young man went back up to the surface to think in peace, leaving Jim sitting on his bed eating peas with a plastic fork. Mitchell sat opposite, quietly staring at him over the fire. Finally he spoke:
“I don’t feel right about leaving them down there.”
“Who, the ‘sleepers’…?” Jim asked him. He’d had this conversation before. Mitchell nodded. “We don’t have much choice,” Jim explained. There was a little resignation in his voice. Jim probably had family down there. It was likely they all did. 
Mitchell didn’t sound convinced when he said: “You think so?”
“There’d have to be a lot of things set up before I’d even think about it. We’ve got food and beds - yes, but no power, no lights, no sanitation. That food we’ve got down there won’t last. We need a way of sustaining our supplies and at the moment we can’t. We can get more but it’ll take work and time. Trust me, we are working on it.”
“Maybe we should wake up someone in charge. This is government property – wouldn’t it be better having someone official running things?”
“Well,” Jim patiently explained, “the other issue is we don’t have any way of actually waking them up. Even if we knew how, do you know which bed they’re in? Because there are no names on the beds themselves – only numbers. The chances of you getting the right person – or as it turns out anybody who knows anything is pretty small. Are you going to keep waking up people until you get the right one?”
“I guess not.”
“Let’s just leave it for now,” Jim advised, pulling at the bandage on his head. “We’ve got a lot of things to do before we even get close to waking anybody up. We’re it for now. Can you cope with that?”
“So, we’re using the fertilizer to produce more food so we can support more people.”
“That’s the plan. There are a few problems to get past first. The world out there is a lot different than you’ll remember. It’s backwards, there’s no technology. The locals get by – just - but I’m hoping we can improve things for everyone. It could be decades before we get things on track. This is a long term plan, you get the idea?”
Mitchell nodded. He sat for several minutes, his head down, thinking. Jim surmised that he was coming to some decision and when he made it, he looked up. “I’ll help your cause where I can. I’m at your disposal,” he declared finally.
Jim looked at him in amazement and then he understood. Mitchell needed to feel a part of the plans that they had set. He needed a command, a mission. Jim had been the same at one time and he understood what the young officer needed.
“You mentioned before you knew about farming?” Jim asked him, accepting his help.
“I’ve worked on farms before.”
Jim gave him a purpose. “When we get out of here – back to Daniel’s place – we’ll be relying on you to show us what to do.”
“I understand.”
“Good.” He snapped his fingers, something coming to mind at that moment. “One other thing: can you help me with getting some guns together?”
“You think we need those?” Mitchell asked and then after Jim nodded, asked another question, “What have you got?”
“Lewis found some crates of rifles and some handguns… and there’s ammunition as well. We just need a couple of each – just in case.”
“You’re expecting trouble?”
“We’ve had one run-in already,” he explained ruefully, “I hope we won’t need them but you never know. The big problem we have is we don’t speak their language and that leads to all kinds of misunderstandings. Emily’s sorting that out but she thinks it’ll take some time.” He sighed. “We’ve got time but that’s not really the problem. There are ramifications if we use English publicly, so we’re forced to keep quiet. The only solution for now is to staying out of the way until we can learn to speak like the locals.”
“Well, the guns won’t be a problem. The crates are still downstairs?”
Jim nodded. “Lewis will show you.”
There was the sound of feet coming down the ramp from above and moments later Daniel appeared at the doorway. He was not carrying a torch as there was enough light coming from the world above to help him negotiate the walk down. His hair and shoulders were wet.
“It’s raining,” he declared sourly.
“Really…?” Jim managed a soft smile. “I thought you’d finally decided to take a bath.”
The young man was not completely humourless. He raised an eyebrow archly. “Have you smelt yourself lately?” he quipped.
“Good point.” It was true, they all were pungent.
That was the extent of the young man’s joking. There was a problem, and Jim could see it on his face. “If it rains through the night,” Daniel said gravely, “…that could slow us down tomorrow.”
“Why’s that?” Mitchell asked him.
“The plain will be muddy,” he explained.
Jim was keen to get back to the farm. “We can’t stay here indefinitely. We’ll wait and see how things are tomorrow,” he advised.
“Emily will know what to do – to stay or go.” Mitchell had gotten the wrong idea from yesterday’s work.
“No-one’s in charge here,” Jim informed him. “We all make the decisions together.”
“She thinks she’s in charge,” Mitchell refuted his claim with a slight smile.
Daniel agreed with him. “You’d better admit it,” he advised Jim, “…she’s really running things, isn’t she?”
Jim sighed, conceding ground. “You’re probably right.” Slowly he stood and stretched. The effort only caused a little dizziness which he shook off. He seemed to be on the mend. “Well,” he declared, “I’m going up top to see this rain. Maybe I’ll get a shower – wash away the stink.”

***

Emily and Lewis returned a few hours later with writing books in hand, having catalogued several areas of the storage levels below. This list, added to others made earlier, was becoming more conclusive by the day. It seemed like there was no end to the variety and quantity of the items listed. 
They had a small supper and relaxed around their fire for a time, talking and listening to some of the stories of their former lives. Daniel listened intently – these strange people came from a world that had long passed - a complicated world. Hearing them speak though, he learned that it was also a happy world in its smaller compartments – there was need and pain at times, but many were happy and content with their lives. He surmised that most however, had no idea that their lives lacked some elemental meaning. They strived only for the comforts of tomorrow – and not for any higher ideal or ethos. They had no idea that their lives were about to change irrevocably.
Later Lewis and Mitchell descended the ramp on some unnamed mission leaving the others dozing on their cots, watching the fire and talking intermittently in low, quiet tones. They fell into sleep a short time later but did not dream, waking again the next day early – ready to face the next chapter of their journey.

***

The rain had abated during the night and stopped long before the sun was peeking over the eastern hills. The clouds had now rolled out to the south and left a clear sky, pale blue and inviting. Mitchell had risen early, which was his custom, and greeted the day first – taking a tin of fruit with him for breakfast. The others followed an hour later and joined him on the surface – seeking the sun and the fresh air after their confinement below the surface.
Daniel ate his breakfast quickly and then headed down to the edge of the plain. On his return, some ten minutes later, he announced the surface was dry enough to traverse.
It was Emily who stood first, eager for action. She had been given a taste for command and was enjoying having a group of men obeying her every word.
“Breakfast’s over boys,” she told them. “Let’s get the camp packed up and get going. I want to be at the bridge by lunchtime.”
Jim looked at the others, recalling the conversation the previous day and quietly smiled to himself. Mitchell was the next to stand – he dusted off his utilities and bent down, gathering the remains of his breakfast. Sammy followed and Daniel was soon after him.
Lewis was a little unhappy about the arrangements. “You’re not going to let her boss us around all day again, are you?” he asked Jim, a slight worried look on his face.
Jim smiled to him. “I don’t see how I can stop her.”
“Please, can’t you do something?”
“You’re whining like a baby,” Emily accused of him, grabbing him by the shirt and leading him to the doorway.
“You’d better just get going. It’ll be best not to tick off the boss,” Jim advised him, still smiling and following along slowly.
 “That’s good advice,” she agreed seriously. “You’d better get going too.”
“I’m still feeling a little…”
“You look fine to me,” she jumped in. “Time is money.”
“Money?” he exclaimed in mock excitement. “You mean we’re getting paid?”

They pulled the cart out of the installation, slowly at first, and then at a quickening pace down the steepening slope, through the thorny bushes and onto the plain below. They travelled along the remains of the track that they had made four days earlier, somewhat washed away by the rain that had fallen during the night. By midmorning the sun was climbing high and the temperature rose progressively. Taking turns the men heaved and sweated together, keeping the cart moving towards their goal. Emily walked out in front giving instructions on direction and maintaining a keen eye ahead for the post that indicated the location of the bridge they had made. 
After a quick stop at ten o’clock for water and a small snack, they were on their way again, making steady progress. Finally the post could be seen through the haze of moisture evaporating from the plain ahead – a red rag tied to the top flapping in a gentle breeze. On the way there, Jim had tied the rag that he had located onto the pole, something he thought necessary when they’d first sunk it into the ground. It would be another half hour before they reached the southern end of the narrow river bed that marked the halfway point of their journey.  
They stopped again, this time for an hour. The men were tired and sore, with blisters forming on their hands and a growing hunger. They ate more substantially this time: a box of cans they had taken from the installation contained tinned meat – something they had not had in over a week (technically a lot longer). They sat down in the narrow bank under the shade of the shelter Daniel erected, ate and rested.
The back of Jim’s head still throbbed – the combined exertion and heat had brought it back to his attention. He had quietly taken pain killers to calm its attack on his concentration and closed his eyes, resting the back of his head against the cool earth of the bank wall. The bandage which circumnavigated his head protected the wound from the elements but was itchy and starting to get dirty. He was beginning to get desperate for its removal but he feared Emily would scold severely – as she had done numerous times to the others – questioning their manhood, their courage and their stamina.
He opened his eyes abruptly as the sun shone full on his face. Daniel was pulling down the sheet strung over the gap as he had been instructed whilst the others packed away the empty tins and clear plastic bottles of water. They climbed the southern side of the gap and loaded up their packs onto the cart. The two planks that stretched over the gap lay before them, waiting for them to test its strength against the weight of the supplies and the transport. The men gathered behind the cart, starting to push while Lewis at the front pulled and guided. He carefully positioned himself one foot on each plank and shuffled backwards. The planks bent and sunk downward but supported the load begrudgingly, groaning and creaking, but not surrendering. The northern side was reached with much relief and the crew spent a short time in congratulations before proceeding to the hills visible to the north – into the heat haze and dust.

Halfway to the other side Jim left the other men to struggle with their burden and ran ahead to where Emily was leading them.
“Hey,” he said as he came behind her.
She looked back to him and then to the others heaving the heavy cart along the rocky ground. “What’s up?” she asked him, slightly annoyed he’d left his position.
“I wanted to have a word without the others listening.”
“Oh?”
“It was just something I noticed down at the freezer.”
“Oh?” she repeated, this time with more enthusiasm.
“There’s quite a few of us missing. Several sections actually. All the beds are out and they’re empty.”
“Do you think they woke like us?”
“No. There’s a whole group of them in one area. I think they were pulled out, not like us, I mean deliberately - which means there is a way to do it, but I’m still in the dark over how.”
“Where did they go?”
“I have no idea. But what is clear is that at some stage a whole lot of us were pulled out, when and why…” He shrugged.
She closed her eyes briefly and sighed. “There’s some food missing as well - and other things: a whole section of tins and some water.”
“I think there is a pattern forming here,” Jim declared. They’d said enough, he turned and stopped, letting the cart catch up to him. He went in behind and put his shoulder into the back end of it, looking ahead at Emily’s back as she continued her scouting role.

They finally arrived at the northern hills, as the sun began its slow descent to the western horizon, and now they looked forwards in despair. The men looked at each other with eyes full of dread.
Daniel however, did not share their pessimism. He was walking quickly to the west along the edge of the hills until he was barely in view. He then waved them to follow in the direction he had gone. There was a gentler slope waiting – meandering up into the hills and avoiding the town altogether. The men saw its benefit immediately and took to the task, pushing and pulling the cart up the path worn by many feet before them. They worked solidly for an hour under the encouragement of Emily until finally they reached the zenith of the hills and looked down over the grey, yellow and brown fields beyond.
As the sun touched the edge of the world and long shadows appeared over the land around them, the track wound down, narrow roads between individual plots lined with short fences of rocks. They were not observed – or so they thought – by anyone along this section and Jim in particular was happy for this direction. 
They were close to home. Some of the plots looked familiar, and the roads widened slightly, making this final section easier and they quickened their pace. There ahead lay the house and the barn but there was no sign of Joanna – there was no fire in the hearth and the windows were dark and uninviting. Daniel left the others to run ahead, around the corner of the road and out of sight - to open the gate so that they could enter the yard unhindered.
They had not yet rounded the bend themselves when they heard a cry of alarm. The sound of it made them leave the cart and hurry ahead to see what had transpired. Mitchell had taken a rifle, previously secreted, from the rear of the cart, checked it and was following behind the others.
There in the centre of the road lay a man, his head supported by Daniel. He was battered and bloody. Red and angry cuts crossed over his face – his eyes were bruised and swollen – his lips were cut and bleeding. His clothes, like that of the locals in this area, were ragged, torn and marked with blood. 
Jim was the first to join Daniel’s side. It was evident from several steps away what had happened to this victim. Sammy and Emily were there hovering over, not knowing what to do and waiting for instruction. All the while Mitchell looked over this scene, his rifle loaded and ready, knowing the implications of what was transpiring. He turned and jumped up on the bank that lined the side of the road and scanned the surroundings – searching for assailants – ready to defend them all if necessary. 
Jim was concerned. This man was badly injured and he was close to the farm. Down the road, even in the fading light, he could see evidence of a slow, agonising crawl from the scene of the crime to here, just outside Daniel’s plot. He barked instructions to the gun toting officer: “Mitch, go with Daniel – check the house!”
Jim took the injured man’s head from Daniel’s lap and the two ran down to the gate, passing through and out of sight. He looked down at the bruised and battered face with eyes struggling to open. The man spoke, barely a whisper, words full of fear – four words that none of them could understand save for the intent behind them, which was clear by the way they were said.

Chapter Twelve

Jim looked down into the face of the man in his arms trying to assess the current situation confronting him. He could hear the gate being swung open just down the road and knew that even now, Daniel and Mitchell were running the short distance between the gate and the front door to the farm house. Emily, Lewis and Sammy stood over him speaking all at once – asking questions he had no conceivable way of answering. They were not helping. Through this confusion he sought clarity and it came - then he started swearing.
Emily was taken aback by Jim’s extreme reaction. “What is it?” she asked nervously.
He kept swearing, one word coming out above all others: “Stupid!”
Looking up and around, the light was failing and the shadows hid all sorts of threatening possibilities.
“Somebody help me with this guy!” Jim demanded urgently.
Sammy was by his side, kneeling down, speaking into Jim’s face. “What do you want me to do?” he asked.
“Help me get him up. We need to move him to the side of the road.”
They heaved the semi-conscious man up to his feet, dragged him to the bank and lowered him down, resting his back and head against the side of the road. As Jim stood again Sammy turned his head to speak to the leader but he was gone – already running back down the road - to the corner, to the cart.
Jim was calling back as he ran, inspiring them all into movement. “Hurry - the cart…!”
They did not run nearly as fast as Jim had but reached the transport seconds after he had arrived. There he was, rummaging about in the rear of the cart and looking concerned – even scared.
“What about that man back there…?” Sammy asked him, looking back over his shoulder.
“He’ll be all right for a few minutes.” Jim didn’t take his eyes of the task before him.
Emily gasped when without warning Jim produced a rifle from amongst the boxes and she stepped back, shocked. Clearly she had not seen Mitchell carrying a similar weapon earlier and she had not known that Jim had conspired to arm the group from the stocks in the Installation.
“What’s going on here?” she demanded.
Jim had regained his composure, his long buried professionalism coming to the fore. “We could be in deep trouble,” he announced gravely. “This could be a trap.” He started swearing again when he realised the error of his decision. “Now I’ve gone and split us up. Damn it!”
He’d sent Mitchell and Daniel into the house, breaking the team into two. Mitchell was more than capable of defending himself, and he was armed, but still…
He loaded the rifle, and after ensuring it was safe he dumped it onto the top of the pile of boxes.
“We need to push this thing through the gate,” he said, leaning on the back of the cart preparing to strain against it, then emphasising the urgency of the situation, “Now! Help me push!” he ordered.
His fervour had them moving quickly. Sammy joined him on the back pushing – Emily and Lewis on the front, pulling and guiding – and it was hard work. Jim was yelling: “Go! Go! Go!”
Abruptly the cart changed direction as Emily pulled it to the right and they pushed hard up the short gradual incline to the gate. It was open and swinging after Daniel and Mitchell had gone through a minute or two earlier.
“Gate here!” she informed them. “Keep pushing, boys!”
And they did – hard and fast – through the gate and into the yard. There was yelling from the house, the door was open and it was dark inside. Jim already was at the back of the cart and had the rifle in hand when Mitchell appeared at the door.
“House is clear,” he announced, loud and dispassionate.
Jim was on his way to the side of the house, barking an order to the young officer as he went, “Check the barn. I’ll do the grounds.”
They were off – leaving Emily, Sammy and Lewis dumbfounded at the speed at which these two men were operating.
Jim went around to the back of the house, his eyes straining in the failing light, with his rifle out front and held at eye level. He moved quickly around the corner and then moved forward purposefully to the next. Jumping out, he was moving again – in a few moments he was at the door in a complete circuit of the house. The others stood out in the open by the cart waiting for something to happen – expecting trouble because of Jim’s agitation. Mitchell was back only a minute later announcing the barn was clear and everyone visibly relaxed. Jim looked about one more time before giving orders again: He sent Sammy and Lewis back out onto the road to retrieve the injured man and Emily into the house to help Joanna prepare light and fire.
“Mitchell, cover the road and… where is Daniel…?” he was searching for the young farmer in the dark.
Mitchell was following Sammy and Lewis down to the gate, calling over his shoulder: “In the house – with the lady.”
“Okay…” then he slapped his forehead and spoke of excrement. Joanna will kill me. He’d sent Mitchell into the house waving his gun around. She would have been scared witless.
Down at the gate he heard the sounds of exertion as four figures appeared out of the night, a man was being carried between two others and a further figure following behind them – carrying a rifle and looking back cautiously as he went.
There came a light from the house which shone out onto the yard from the open door, illumining the struggling trio as they made their way toward the house. Mitchell veered off to join Jim by their supplies.
They were just about at the doorway when Jim called to them. “We’ll need you two out here when you’re done, okay?”
They groaned with the exertion of carrying the battered and bloodied man, a dead weight in their arms, but were able to nod their agreement and then they vanished into the house. 
Mitchell looked over to Jim who was still visibly tense. “Are you alright?” he asked him.
“That could have been bad, real bad. We could have been jumped there on the road and we’d have been completely vulnerable.” 
The soldier put a hand on Jim’s shoulder. “Nothing happened so relax.” He looked up to the sky; more stars were appearing in the dark blanket above them by the minute. “We’ll need to get this stuff under cover,” he advised.
Ten minutes later they had done just that. Sammy and Lewis reappeared, red faced from activity and the reception they received from the woman of the house. The cart was pushed into the corner of the barn whilst Mitchell held a lamp to illuminate their task. After that there was no need for further instructions – they all knew what needed to be done. The last items placed on the cart were personal ones – packed in boxes and labelled with their names and these they distributed to the beds set up along the other side of the barn with the exception of that which belonged to Emily. They laid those things by the door ready for her to collect.
Daniel appeared at the barn door, his image dark against the night outside, and he was tense – no doubt there had been heated words in the house. “She wants you,” he announced to Jim.
“Your mother alright?” he asked the young man tentatively as they walked around to the house.
“She’s not happy.” Daniel’s voice was flat and unemotional but beneath his voice was an edge of anger. 
His life must feel like a runaway train, Jim thought to himself. 
 “How’s he doing?” Jim asked him with a hand rested on the handle of the door, ready to push his way into light and warmth.
“See for yourself,” The young man stood back, no expression on his face. 

Whatever had occurred inside the house had finished some time ago, and the evidence of chaos had been swept away. Joanna was nowhere to be seen, probably in the other room, and Emily was kneeling next to the bed near the fire.
She looked up at Jim and pronounced the injured man’s current state: “He’s sleeping.”
The new arrival had been stripped of his clothing and laid onto Emily’s bed to recover, covered in one of the blankets that had been retrieved from the Installation. His wounds had been cleaned but they still looked worse than Jim had hoped. His eyes were closed, bruised and swollen and when Jim had walked over to him they did not open. His chest rose and fell slowly and regularly.
“He has no broken bones as far as Mother can tell.” Daniel had come up behind him. “But he has been beaten quite soundly.”
“That’s fairly obvious. Do you know him?”
Daniel nodded. “He looks like just about anyone at the moment – anyone beaten to that extent.”
Jim frowned. “Fair enough,” he said, then he asked: “Got a name off him yet?”
“He’s not saying anything. Mother says we should wait till tomorrow to try and talk to him.”
“He’s staying in the house?”
“For tonight… I will watch him. Emily will have to go to the barn. Mother is not entirely happy about the arrangement but she understands the necessity.”

Joanna came from the connected room taking off her apron as she entered. There was blood on the garment she was folding carefully. She looked tired and angry.
Jim tried to smile reassuringly but she did not return it. Walking to the centre of the room, she surveyed the occupants slowly, then gracefully sat on a chair at her large wooden table and waited for Jim and Daniel to follow suit.
Jim tentatively joined her, sitting down without the grace she had shown, waiting for the angry words that Daniel had obviously received earlier. Daniel sat next to him – employed as his typical task of translator – looking down at the surface of the table, not making eye contact. There was Emily as well – she sat next to Joanna, she was not going to miss this meeting. They sat in silence for a long while. Joanna looked from Jim to Daniel and back – obviously attempting to frame her questions so that she could gain the best picture of exactly what was happening. She finally spoke in slow, controlled words and waited for the translation. 
“Who is this man you have brought to my house?” she asked through Daniel.
“I don’t know,” Jim answered uncomfortably. “We found him outside the gate in the state you see him now.”
The tone in her voice accused him. “He has been treated this way because of you – and the others like you.”
“You don’t know that for sure. It could have been just coincidental.”
“I do not believe in such things anymore – despite what the Judges will tell us. I have learnt there are purposes, for good or evil, being worked out in this world – even in this place. The very day you and your people arrived here I asked myself what purpose you serve.”
Jim sat in silence for a moment. No answer came to him and a second or two later Joanna continued: “How many more of you are there?”
“More?”
“Who was it that burst through my door uninvited this evening?”
“Oh…” Jim was embarrassed. He’d sent Mitch into the house and he’d scared the woman who had been helping them. Mitchell was the only one for the job and it had to be done. Still, Jim hadn’t made an effort to smooth things over with an introduction. “His name is Mitchell,” he explained. “He’s a soldier – that’s why he’s a bit enthusiastic.”
“He’s going to be a big help here,” Jim continued, “…we’re all going to be. We’re going to change things here for the better.” He smiled disarmingly. “We’re all a family here – okay, so a kind of odd family granted – but one just the same. And we’re going to look after each other just like a family too.”
She seemed to accept it, if only for the moment. Something else had distracted her. Jim knew she had noticed the bandage that had been wrapped about his head. Her eyes had been drawn to it straight away. Now she nodded at its presence, pointing.
“You’ve been hurt.”
“Oh yes,” he muttered. “I had an accident. I’ll be fine.”
She was standing, coming around the table. “There are no accidents,” she declared, looking for the end of the wrapping. Jim moved his head away in reflex and she scolded him. “Let me see.”
She inhaled sharply when she clearly viewed the wound. “This will need fixing.”
“What? No, it’ll be fine.” Jim was already trying to stand from the chair.
She pushed him down again. “No, it will not be ‘fine’. It will need to be stitched,” she pronounced, gauging the severity of the injury.
There was a slight smile on Emily’s lips. “I told him that.”
Jim was feeling cornered. He looked to Daniel, but the young man was no help. Jim squirmed uncomfortably, knowing what was inevitable. “Without local?” he protested weakly – but the woman of the house would have no idea what that was. “I don’t think so.”
She was looking through one of the drawers in her kitchen and moments later returned with what she had been searching for. In her hands were a long metal needle and a ball of thick thread used to stitch their rough clothing together.
Jim’s eyes opened wide at the sight. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

Jim staggered from the house holding his aching head. It turned out Joanna was not kidding; she inserted three large and ugly stiches into his head – roughly holding his head in position all the while. 
There was a lone figure sitting on the low stone wall, the light from the barn at his back. Mitchell turned his head as Jim approached and sat next to him.
“You look terrible,” the soldier advised him, seeing the expression on Jim’s face, even in that poor light.
“Thanks.” There was sarcasm in the reply. “My head feels worse now than it did when you hit me.”
Mitchell sighed heavily.
After all the commotion of the evening, now there was a reprieve. “It’s quiet,” Jim observed.
“Too quiet…” Mitchell was looking up to the sky and its blanket of stars, listening. 
“I like it,” Jim admitted with a sigh. Over the time they’d been there, Jim had gotten used to the silence of the farm life. He remembered the noise and the pace of his former existence and this was much better. The only thing missing was family…
Mitchell had been thinking and he had realised what the problem was. “There are no animals here?”
It wasn’t really a question, but Jim answered it anyway. “None that I’ve seen…”
That’s the problem. Every farm has animals: dogs, chickens, cows, horses and such. This is not much of a farm.”
“Are you guys are friends now?” She had come from the house and walked over. Emily’s voice had startled them slightly.
“If that means I don’t want to bludgeon him senseless with a big stick then… yes.” Jim was serious. A few hours ago he would have considered it. 
“Thanks…” Mitchell understood. “I appreciate that.”
“I thought you would.”
Emily interrupted their discussion. “Joanna’s ordering you guys into the barn for a bit,” she advised them.
Mitchell gave her a sidelong glance. “Why?” he asked.
“I’m having a bath. Is that okay?” She wrinkled her nose. “…I smell.”
Jim stood first, dusting off his dirty utility pants. “We all do,” he said. “Enjoy yourself.”
She smiled happily, “I intend to.”

***

The sun rose unannounced the next morning. Mitchell was right – a farm should be much noisier - the day should have been greeted by a rooster call at least. Emily had not overheard much of the conversation between Jim and the newcomer but she had heard enough to give her some concern. The world that she now lived in was a changed place, there were so many things about the old world that had vanished – things that mankind had relied upon for health and happiness. Now the world was a smaller, bleaker place – the struggle to survive had become much harder. These people would scratch out a living on small plots of land, growing small crops and growing smaller themselves. She sighed and looked up at the horizon to the east as the sun poked through the orange clouds. Still, there was beauty here. There was hope whilst there was life.
The night before Emily had carried two boxes back into the house and presented them to Joanna as a gift. They contained the cooking implements taken from the store house – pots, pans and knives. Joanna was visibly pleased – so much so that Emily received an embrace – more physical contact in that moment than she had received from the lady in all the time she had spent with her. There were smells wafting from the house down to the back of the yard which indicated that Joanna was not only awake but was likely to be using her new toys for the preparation of breakfast.
Daniel had offered his bed for Emily to use the night before and she had accepted. He had been watching over the new arrival. The men had not yet bathed and they snored – something Emily had gotten used to over the last few nights but she was hoping she would have her old bed back tonight – hoping that the injured man would be well enough to be moved.
When she climbed from her bed, Jim and Mitchell had already risen, and they stood some distance from the low rock fence which separated the yard from the field – out amongst the small plants in tight rows, talking to each other. Jim’s head was down, looking at the ground, listening and nodding intently. She climbed the fence with difficulty due to her change of dress and walked between the rows to where the men stood. They saw her from a short distance away and waved her over.
“Breakfast ready yet?” Jim called to her hopefully.
“I don’t know,” she confessed, adding: “It’s on though. I could smell it yesterday. What are you guys up to?” she asked them. She had seen them perusing the plot from a distance. 
Jim seemed a little evasive. “Just looking about… Mitchell’s sizing up the farm. He’s getting a feel for things.”
There was something they were not telling her. She pushed them: “And…?”
The two of them looked at each other. “Well…” Mitchell started, crouching down and taking a handful of dirt. “The soil’s not too bad,” he pronounced, “but it’s been overworked. This field’s been used repeatedly for a long time. It’s not too hard though.” He let the soil run through his fingers. “Sometimes the soil is so hard you need a sledgehammer to break it, so not much water gets down to the roots. All the same, these…” He took hold of one of the small plants in the nearest row. “…whatever they are, are pretty poor specimens. This is a kind of grain I suppose, Sorghum, I think. There’s some protein in it, but not much.” 
He stood, dusting his hands. “There are a lot of things you could plant here, but this…” he pointed downwards, “…wouldn’t be my first choice. We could use the fertilizer and coax some more out of it, but I think we could do so much better. We’ve got seed right?”
“Yeah, a couple of boxes…” She’d done the stock take, and she gave him a list:  “Corn, beans, tomatoes…”
“We could start on the house vegetables now.” He looked up into the morning sky, and they all followed suit, feeling the heat of the morning building even as they stood. “It’s summer so…” he thought, “it’s a little late but there are a few things we could plant. We’ll build a garden by the house. This field though…” he added, looking back down to the plot where they were standing. “It’s going to take a bit more planning. We’ll need a tractor once we’ve harvested all this – and fuel.”
“They’re a bit backwards here,” Jim was saying. “Dan did this whole field by hand – with a little help.”
“By hand…?” Mitchell sounded surprised; there was also a hint of admiration in his voice. “That must have taken…” His voice trailed off
“…A long time,” Jim finished for him. “There’s a tractor down in the installation. I don’t know if it’ll start after all this time. I’m no mechanic.”
“It’s worth a thought though. Now…” He turned completely around, listening in all directions. “…the other thing that’s been bothering me. There’s no livestock here – or on any farm nearby. Listen…”
It was obviously silent. Mitchell was right. This was what he bothered her when she’d first arrived. She couldn’t put her finger on it until now.  “Maybe they don’t have farm animals down this way,” she suggested.
He disagreed. “Have you seen any livestock anywhere about here? No? Every farm has stock of some kind – especially primitive setups like this. You need your milk, your eggs, and your meat. You can’t always rely on others to supply those things. Are there any of those basics in the diet? You’ve been here longer than me.” He was looking right at Emily.
The meals had been very basic. “I haven’t seen an egg since I’ve been here – and I’ve been in the kitchen,” she told him.
“I don’t like it,” Mitchell pronounced. “It’s not natural.”
There was a yell from the yard: Joanna was calling them to the house. The others emerged from the barn stretching and blinking against the morning sun. The three of them strolled back though the plot to the fence and the two men helped her over. Already Sammy and Lewis were inside and they’d left the door open allowing inviting smells to waft out into the yard, drawing in the three to breakfast. 

Joanna served the traditional, yellow cinnamon cakes with an additional inclusion of jam supplied by Emily, taken from down in the storehouse. There was a general agreement that this was an improvement. There was little small talk at the table – Joanna did not understand them and they did not want to alienate her in her own house. 
The injured stranger lay on Emily’s bed still sleeping but there appeared some improvement in his appearance. His face was less swollen and the cuts to his face were looking less angry. Jim wanted to get to the bottom of things that morning and was hoping to move him out of the house some time that day. Daniel and Sammy volunteered to question him and this seemed like a good idea to them all – they seemed the wisest choice. 
When breakfast was done, Jim and Lewis cleaned up, giving Joanna time to prepare a bath for the men as they were now becoming quite pungent. Emily prepared a fire outside by the large iron bath where a large pot hung and waited for the water in it to boil. 

***

When the kitchen work was done and the workers departed, only Sammy and Daniel remained. They were sitting at the table talking quietly and looking at their guest intermittently. Finally, after they had talked through their plan, they stood and dragged their chairs over to the bed. They sat again, leaning forward expectantly. It was Daniel that reached out and gently shook the beaten man until his eyes opened slowly.
Daniel was sure that he spoke none of the old tongue, so he settled into his traditional role as translator:
“Hello…”
The man did not answer straight away instead he licked his dry lips and looked from Daniel to Sammy’s dark face and back again.
“Can you hear me? Do you understand me?” Daniel asked him.
The man nodded but seemed unable to speak – he opened his mouth and a hoarse whisper passed through his lips, barely discernable.
“What did he say?” Sammy asked Daniel expectantly.
Daniel was moving from the local tongue to English and back again seamlessly, not thinking as he went. “I couldn’t make it out,” he told Sammy, then asked the man to repeat himself.
He spoke again, this time Daniel almost had his head over the man’s face trying to hear.
“Water…” he said. Daniel relayed the message. Sammy rose to supply it, pouring some from a jug into a clay mug.
“Here,” Sammy said in English. The injured man understood, taking the mug and drinking some of the contents, falling back on the pillow and nodding thanks. 
After several minutes of to and fro, Daniel told Sammy what he’d learnt: “He says he’s not from this area, which I already knew – he’s from Ghundah.”
Sammy attempted to pronounce it, needing correction from the young farmer.
“It’s the town some distance north from here,” Daniel explained, “He’d got himself in some trouble and had to leave quickly. He thought he’d got away but it looks like he’s been followed here. They caught up with him near our gate and – shall we say – dealt out justice. He thanks us for our kindness in saving him.”
“What was the ‘trouble’ he was in?” Sammy was obviously not going to let that explanation suffice.
“A…” He struggled to find the word he needed and settled for a local word which had no meaning for Sammy, continuing seamlessly into English. “…about mhonae.”
“Money…?” Sammy looked surprised. “You use money?”
Daniel shrugged. “In the city they have it. There is not much use for it here. What we produce and what we need are more important than shiny bits of metal.”
Sammy frowned. “I see. Ask him if it’s likely that this problem will keep following him.”
“No. He says they will think he’s learnt his lesson.”
“I hope so. We don’t want trouble here – at least what we haven’t caused ourselves.” He closed his eyes, digesting what he’d leant then relaxed back into the chair. Sammy seemed happy with the explanation given, but there was still one question that remained unasked. “What’s his name?”
“Thom,” was the reply.
“Does he think he can get up?”
Before long the three men were slowly working their way out the door and into the sunshine of the yard. The cart was there out in the open, almost fully unloaded. The four drums were in a row by the fence and the boxes were over by the entrance to the barn along with Mitchell, Jim and Lewis. Stumbling awkwardly over to the barn door, they joined the others.
Jim directed them inside. “There’s a bed for him at the back. How’s he doing?” he asked.
“He’ll be fine. We’ve got a name,” Sammy told him, lowering the man down onto the bed with Daniel’s help.
“Anything else…?”
“Yes,” Sammy said, standing again. “Enough for now, I think.”
Thom quietly gazed up at the men standing next to him, seemingly thankful for being alive and cared for. Jim nodded once, walking back out of the barn, followed closely by the others.
“What do we know about him?” Jim asked, stopping by the boxes just outside the door.
“His name is Tom,” Sammy told him and Daniel corrected his pronunciation for the second time.
Sammy stared at him and blinked slowly. “Anyway…,” he started again, “he’s from the city – running away from some money troubles – which seems to have caught up with him.”
“That’s it?” Jim seemed hopeful that it was as simple as that.
Sammy nodded. “That’s it for now. He will be up for more questions later. We should let him rest until he recovers more of his strength.”
“Well, we’ve plenty of time. Let’s get all this stuff sorted. Best not leave it lying about. He’ll be asking questions and I’d rather not answer them until we know more about him. Mitch, where do you want the drums…?”
“Back of the house will do,” he advised, adding: “Tools can go in the shed and the rest in the house.”
“Right,” Jim said decisively. “Let’s do it.” He looked over to where the water was boiling for the bath. “Then we’ll get cleaned up. I can barely stand myself.”

***

The following two weeks were busy. They all had their tasks assigned by Jim each day and they worked hard to complete them. Mitchell had absolute command of the field, working closely with Daniel who had local knowledge. They had devised a system of applying the fertilizer to the crop evenly and effectively and had used all of the contents of both barrels. The men toiled in the sun to complete the work – there was a lot of area in the plot and it was very hot. 
With a wary eye, Jim allowed Thom to join them in order to pay his way and the extra pair of hands was greatly appreciated. He worked quietly, his head down, not saying much - having discovered early that most of them did not understand. Eventually even Jim’s paranoia abated and he was allowed to become one of the household. 
It rained only two days in that time – there were no thunder storms and there was no need to return to the Installation. In two weeks they had finished and finally settled down to relax. 
Emily worked alongside Joanna about the house, which was initially aggravating for her – she did not relish the traditional woman’s role of cooking and cleaning, but it allowed her to develop a working vocabulary of the local language. By the end of the first week she was speaking haltingly to Joanna and being understood. By the second she had improved greatly and had lost the stilted pronunciations of even the simplest words. 
She was ready to teach the men – who had themselves been working with Daniel, though at a slower pace – and could use only simple phrases to get by. Evenings were allocated for the lessons at the dining table in the house. Jim was pleased that there had been great progress in this area – in contrast with the work in the field, which was far too slow for his liking. He was told by Daniel he would make a terrible farmer – he had no patience.

It would be another month before the men would have a grasp of the language and even then it was only at a serviceable level. It was easier to communicate with the three locals and things that were difficult to achieve were now so much easier. Joanna appreciated the ability to converse with them and they discovered that she was not nearly as unfriendly as they’d first thought. She had a well developed sense of humour that they discovered when they began to understand the subtle complexities of the local language. 
In the past the farm had been a bleak place – there was not much laughter or colour - but now there was a sense of camaraderie, a sense of achievement and fulfilment. 
Now there was hope.
Behind the house now sat a garden. Stakes rose up from the earth higher then Joanna stood. There were small plants growing there – plants that Joanna had never seen in her life and likely no one had seen for many, many years. They were growing taller by the day and there was an air of anticipation for some fresh vegetables - stocks of the tinned variety were running low. The front of the house was sectioned off and there were small plants growing here as well. Emily was keeping tight lipped about what was appearing there – she was hoping to surprise Joanna with the produce of that particular plot.

***

Two weeks later Mitchell joined Jim at the fence for their regular evening discussions. Emily had taken to being present, feeling somewhat excluded from the general work of the group. Once she had entered the house she found it almost impossible to leave. 
“We need to talk about that tractor.” Mitchell had taken to speaking in a broad drawl – perhaps it was the presence of the country in the man that brought it out.
Jim sighed “Do you think we could get it here? I’m thinking the river’s going to be our biggest obstacle. There’s no way our bridge will hold the weight.”
“We could build a bigger bridge.”
Jim placed a hand over his forehead. “I guess we could,” he conceded. “We’d need to get some more wood. That’s another trip to the mountains. As for working out how to build it, I’m no engineer and as far as I know, no one else here is either.”
“Why not dig a ramp down on each side?” Emily offered a workable solution.
“That’s a lot of work,” Jim disagreed.
“No more than building a bridge that might not stay up,” she countered. “If it collapses, there’s no way you’ll get that tractor out of the river bed.”
“It’s worth considering.” Mitchell was obviously warming to the idea but there were still other obstacles. “But we still don’t know if the thing will start after all this time. The battery’s probably flat. God knows the engine could have seized up by now. Next time we get back there I’ll turn it over and see. When do you think that might be?”
Jim looked up to the sky at the soft, white clouds that meandered their way over the expanse of darkening blue. There were no dark and ominous signs above them. “Next time we get some lightning,” he said, looking down. “Last time you came along – the lightning zapped the system somehow and you woke up.
“Daniel’s family has been going back there every time a thunderstorm came along for years and years - waiting for someone to come out,” he continued. “I don’t see how we can avoid not going down next time - there could be people waking up down there. The way I see it, we don’t have a choice.
“If what you’ve told me is true, and there are more of us waking with every thunderstorm that passes over, then we could run out of space and food here before we’re properly set up. When that starts happening I don’t know what we’ll do.”

***

It had been eighty two days since they had first woken in the cold dark of the Installation. By now all the newcomers had a good command of the language and things had settled into an easy routine on the farm. The plants were growing well in the field – much faster and stronger than the crops in the neighbouring plots. They looked upon their work with satisfaction – knowing they were taking real and positive steps to better their situation. The plants in the small garden at the back of the yard were growing well too. There was still some time needed for them to bear their produce but all could see that these plants were strong and would give a bountiful return. Joanna looked upon the smaller garden at the front of the house with interest – these small plants seemed to bear no edible quality, yet she was beginning to see them forming with every passing day. There was only the hint of buds – a suggestion of colour – a promise of aroma. She waited for her surprise with anticipation.
Joanna went to the village later that day to attend to business and returned with the news that the festival for the end of summer was to be held the next week. She had been expecting the celebration, waiting for the date to be set and was now excited that it had come. The newcomers planned to attend – after all they had contributed a great deal to the work at the farm and this would also be an opportune time to test their conversational skills in a real setting. This chance could not be wasted. 
After she had collected material – paid for by the sale of the empty fertilizer drums and other miscellaneous items – Joanna set about measuring and then making clothes for the men and a new dress for Emily so that they would blend into the crowd. Jim doubted that they could, seeing they stood somewhat taller than anyone in the area.

***

The clothes were ready just in time and they set off in the afternoon for the town with Daniel and Joanna at the lead talking excitedly. Emily followed. Her short dress was sure to cause a stir among the young ladies of the district. Sammy, Lewis and Thom fell in behind her – the former two trying to teach a song to the latter and laughing at his attempt to follow them. Jim and Mitchell walked casually after them, strolling but not talking. Jim had noticed earlier that Mitchell had taken a hand gun from the supplies in the house and tucked it in his pants. The young soldier smiled and winked as he did. Jim was sure that there was not going to be trouble but he said nothing. It was better to be prepared for any eventuality.

***

It was several hours after they had arrived at the festival when the incident occurred. It happened so quickly that Jim had little time to comprehend it. In scant moments he was standing next to his friends, facing a group of angry determined young men, facing a stream of abuse from the one in the centre of them.
Before Jim had any time to react the deed was done. Sammy had turned in a moment, took two steps forward and firmly placed his right fist into the surprised face of the individual who had been taunting them. Emily stood, mouth agape, shocked pale from what was said. Only Sammy had acted, quickly, and out of character.
Slowly the antagonist fell backwards with his eyes rolling back in his head. The others moved forward to catch him, but without their leader’s direction, there was no move to retaliate. Jim pulled Emily back behind him and stood next to his friend on the left, waiting for the commencement of hostilities. Lewis had joined them on the right, his fists clenching for action. It was then Jim noticed Mitchell moving – flanking their opponents with his weapon drawn and down by his right thigh. Jim shook his head. This was not what they needed. Thankfully Mitchell slid the gun away and melted back into the crowd waiting for the opportunity to support where required. Jim looked about, the opposition’s numbers were greater and they were younger and probably stronger. This was not going to be pretty.
The other group advanced, ready to join the battle. It seemed inevitable that they would attempt to avenge their leader’s assault.
Without warning there was a call and the advance stopped. Through the gathering crowd arrived five older men, each carrying a short staff with a sharp metal point fixed on the end. Are these the police? Jim asked himself.
The talk was fast, too fast for them to understand, and there was plenty of pointing. Jim, Lewis and Sammy had no possible defence against steel, so they were grabbed and dragged under protest through the crowd and into the night, leaving Emily behind vainly calling their names.

Chapter Thirteen

For the first time in weeks the group experienced colour and happiness. On this day there was music and laughter, dancing and singing. On this day the town had come together to celebrate. 
The village square was decorated with ribbons of many colours, connected to a tall pole that stood in the centre. It radiated out to the shorter poles in each corner and draped over the intervening spaces. A band of musicians sat in one of the corners – their lively tune drifting over the remainder of the throng – drawing some into the dance. Here and there groups of town folk stood talking amongst themselves, taking small morsels from plates that were passed around by young people who served as waiters.
They regrouped just outside the square and entered together - five tall newcomers and three short locals, dressed festively for the occasion. On their entrance the music did not falter. Some stopped talking and looked their way but most did not notice their presence until much later. Daniel and Joanna broke away from the group and started to circulate through the crowd, talking to their neighbours and friends, leaving the five standing near the centre pole and looking around apprehensively.
Jim turned on hearing the sound of a cleared throat to see the elder, Laydon, standing behind him, waiting patiently. He smiled a warm welcome and extended his hand. Jim, knowing that the elder did not yet know that they spoke the local tongue, jumped in early to speak in a still halting and oddly formal manner: “Elder Laydon, your town looks lovely. It is not as I remembered it.”
They shook hands, and after releasing their grip, the elder clapped his hands together in delight. “You speak our way! Wonderful!” He spread his arms out extravagantly, taking in the entire area around them. “Welcome to the Autumn Festival. Welcome back to our village!”
“Thank you,” Jim bowed respectfully. “You know everyone?” he asked, and realised seconds later the elder didn’t. “No, that’s right. Mitch, step up here…” He gestured for the soldier come forward.
“Elder Laydon, this is Lieutenant Mitchell Davis. He’s been with us… how long Mitch?” he asked Mitchell as he stepped toward the elder with his hand out to accept the greeting.
They shook hands. “Two months – give or take a day or two,” he said smiling. “I am pleased to meet you.”
The elder looked slightly perplexed. “You have a rank, Mitchell?”
“I am a soldier, sir. It is Mitchell – or Mitch if you prefer.”
Jim hadn’t seen any men of action thus far, but it was obvious the concept was not lost on the elder. In any society there were men who did the fighting – either to expand or defend and they were always needed. 
“Ah,” Laydon said, nodding. “Welcome to our town.” He turned to Jim and spoke in a confidential manner. “James, if I could have a moment of your time…”
He smiled. “Yes. That would be fine.” He turned to the others and sent them out into the party - waving them off enthusiastically. In truth, he was glad that he had made some connection, otherwise it was likely that he would have hung around the edges of the gathering all night.
He spoke with the elder for a time and then the conversation stalled. They lapsed into an uneasy silence, so with a wary eye he kept watch over the others. Emily and Lewis had broken away and moved over to the corner, talking quietly to each other while looking over the crowd. The nearest group of young people, young men and women, eyed them off suspiciously and received a smile in return. It was only a short time before the young people were all talking. They were good listeners and probably understood at least half of what was said – laughing in all the right places. The young women admired Emily’s dress, in particular the length, and Jim suspected that very soon this new style was likely to be adopted. The women also admired Lewis, in particular his height, as he towered over the other young men in the town.
The party extended well into the night. As the sun had dipped over the horizon hours ago and the light faded, lamps had been lit around the square and this made the scene even more magical than Jim could have imagined. The dancing had become even livelier. Jim looked over into the centre and saw Lewis teaching some of the young men a few styles they had never seen before. Jim laughed at the sight. These people would never be the same after that night.
At some juncture a large table was brought into the centre of the square laden with food. The people came in eagerly, taking an earthenware plate each and collecting their share. Jim joined the line and was surprised at what he found. There was meat on the table, small bites of cooked white morsels on small green leaves. 
He turned and asked a fellow reveller: “Can you tell me where this comes from? I did not know you had meat here.”
“This? It’s called ‘Ghorhana’. It’s a lizard. It been brought in from up north.” 
Although the pronunciation was different, Jim knew what it was. “Goanna, huh?” he said, thanking him.
Jim had never tasted goanna. It had an unusual taste and texture – at least he thought so - but it was a welcome change from the yellow cakes and bread he was used to. The green leaves were also edible, having a slight peppery taste and they complimented the lizard excellently.
He was cornered again. Laydon had other elders to introduce. They seemed very interested in what was occurring on the farm as they’d heard stories. Jim kept no secrets, telling them what they had planned. 
He took his eye off the others, particularly Lewis, and this proved to be a mistake.

***

Lewis took a plate and headed away by himself, off to the edge of the square. Before he reached it he stopped in his tracks. Initially he thought she was Emily. She wore the same sort of dress and was about the same height. But he noticed one obvious difference: When he’d first met Emily she had virtually no hair on her head – indeed none of them did. During the last two and a half months her hair had grown considerably, but not to the length of this young lady’s. She stood almost as tall as Lewis, certainly taller than all those around her, and she was a local. She was strikingly beautiful, with thick hair as black as night and large dark eyes - and she was totally alone. No one stood near her, no one talked to her. Lewis was intrigued. Slowly he walked in her direction. She looked up, caught his eye and then dropped her head shyly.
“Hello,” he said.
She was still looking down when she returned his greeting.
He found it difficult to talk, but now he’d started, the impediments seem to vanish. “Excuse me. I do not speak very well and I am new here and I am only learning your way of talking…”
The last part was difficult and she frowned at it and then looked up. “You speak well enough,” she offered.
“Thank you.” He smiled. “My name is Lewis.”
“Victoria,” she introduced herself, smiling also.
“I am happy to meet you, Victoria. May I…?” She had been leaning on the railing that bounded the square and he had seen a place next to her.
Victoria nodded, turning her head away to face the crowd, showing a shy smile. Lewis stole a look at her face, considering her fine white skin and full red lips - and when she turned her face back to him, her deep brown eyes. She smiled shyly and lowered her head. Lewis looked down too, to his plate containing small morsels of pale coloured meat. He was desperately trying to think of a way to talk to this girl.
“Would you like some…?” He offered her his plate, looking down at what sat upon it, and laughed. “I have no idea what this is,” he confessed.
She shook her head, still smiling. “Ghorhana,” she told him. “No thank you.”
“Goanna…? Really?” He looked down at a morsel in his hand. “I have never had goanna.” He placed a piece in his mouth and chewed for a few seconds. “Not bad,” was his assessment after swallowing. As he did he was subtly looking her over, head to toe. She wasn’t like the other girls in the village. “Are you from this town, from here?” he asked her.
She looked at him suddenly, her eyes narrowed to slits. “Yes I am. Why do you ask?”
He struggled for the words. “You are… bigger than all the others. Bigger…?” He was thinking: That’s not the word I am looking for… Taller…? Yes, Taller. “…taller than the others,” he corrected himself.
She looked suspicious a moment ago, now she looked angry. She stood up to him, her face turning red. “Taller!” she exclaimed. “Thank you very much. I don’t need reminding, especially from someone I’ve just met.”
Lewis took a step back in defence. “Hey, take it easy. I did not mean to…” (he desperately struggled to find the word quickly) “…upset you. Look…” He indicated his own height. “…I am tall too. It is nothing to get angry about.”
“How would you understand,” she shot back quickly, “You’re just…”
She never finished her sentence. Someone else had stepped in, standing to her side, putting an arm around her. This gesture should have been one of comfort or support, but the young man who stood next to her had an air of falseness about him.
“Is this boy upsetting you, sister?” the new arrival asked, looking directly at Lewis with a sneer on his lips.
“Stay out of this, Carl,” she snapped, shrugging away his contact. “Go back to your friends and leave me alone.” Victoria seemed not to want or need her brother’s assistance. Indeed it appeared she only barely concealed the contempt she had for him.
Carl ignored her request, casting it away as if it was nothing. “I don’t know…” he turned back to his friends who were gathering behind. “This fellow looks like he’s upset you and I don’t like that.”
“We both know you don’t care about me at all. We both know what this is about.” Victoria’s words made him turn sharply back to her.
Lewis could see trouble coming fast. The young man stood shorter than Lewis but was stockier and he looked stronger. Carl had called her ‘sister’ but there was very little family resemblance. She had dark hair and complexion. He was fair with fine, blonde, curly hair.  
He spoke to Carl, trying to defuse the situation. “I did not mean anything by it. I am just talking, that is all.”
Carl laughed at Lewis’s attempt to communicate and the mirth was taken up by the gathering young men behind him. “You talk strangely, friend,” he mocked. “Is there something wrong with you?”
Lewis was getting nowhere and decided to depart the field gracefully. He turned his back on Victoria’s brother and spoke to her directly: “I am sorry if I have upset you. It was not what I meant to do. I will leave you.”
As he turned to go Carl stepped forward, knocking the plate and the food on it from Lewis’s hand. It fell to the ground in a heap, the plate breaking into several pieces. Lewis looked down at the mess at his feet and then up to Carl standing in front of him, the expression on the young local man’s face was the epitome of arrogance.
“Where are you going?” Carl stood blocking the way. Behind the young man, others were filling in to form a wall. “I didn’t say you could just run off. Now Stranger, answer my question. Is there something wrong with you? Well… is there?”
“Listen…” Lewis was trying to keep fear out of his voice. “I am not looking for trouble…”
Carl was talking more to the crowd that had gathered than to Lewis himself. “But it looks like trouble has found you though, doesn’t it?” he declared loudly.
 
***

Jim held Lewis back who now was almost spitting in anger over his shoulder. Had Jim let him go it was likely that Lewis would try and strangle the other young man with his bare hands.
The antagonist was short, about eighteen with a sarcastic sneer upon his face. His friends stood behind him in a half circle – providing the force of numbers that was necessary for the young man to have the courage to speak the words which inflamed Lewis to the point of violence.
Jim was lucky to be nearby when he heard the commotion. He’d been talking to some of the elders about the work on the farm when his attention was drawn to the shouting at the south side of the square. In a few steps he’d grabbed Lewis and prevented him from starting a fight he could not have hoped to win against so many. Moments later Sammy was there. He stood in front of the young man talking him back to calmness while behind him the insults continued.
It would not have been Jim’s choice to include Emily in this altercation but it was not up to him. Before he knew what was happening she had pushed past the three in the centre and stood her ground in front.
“They are brave words from one standing with so many,” she accused him. “How about you try that with me, or are you scared of carrying through what you say?”
Turning back to his friends he spoke whilst pointing to Emily and his statement amused his entourage so much that they burst out laughing. There were many who were within earshot who were definitely not laughing. 
Some of the words were not understood – they fell well outside the realm of their training and were definitely not used in polite company – but their meaning was clear. Lewis let out a range of expletives in English and fought Jim for access to the foul speaker again. 
When revenge came, it burst forth from an unexpected quarter. When it was done the young man who had taunted them lay semi-conscious and bleeding on the ground, surrounded by his fellows. Sammy stood with his fists cocked for a fight in the centre of the circle, having struck the man fair in the face with such force it knocked him off his feet.  There was going to be a fight surely and Jim stood ready to receive it when he heard the feet of the approaching police.

***

There were several moments where absolute chaos reigned. Emily watched as her three friends were grabbed and hauled off into the evening, leaving her standing alone with crowds of short people all babbling insanely. She reconsidered her position – she was not really alone: Daniel and Joanna stood several steps behind her, Mitch was undoubtedly in the vicinity and Thom was somewhere. In the confusion she had momentarily forgotten that she could understand the talk about her and so she relaxed visibly, now not fearing for herself once it was clear none of the others around her meant her any harm. 
Then she was grabbed from behind and pulled backwards through the crowd and she fought until a familiar voice in her ear was heard.
Daniel was whispering in English: “Stop fighting. It’s us.”
She ceased her struggling, allowing them to take her several metres without protest until she remembered the three men that had been prepared to defend her honour.
“Stop!” she demanded. “We’ve got to help them!”
Daniel’s voice was urgent but not afraid. “You can’t do anything for them now. They’re being taken to the watch-house - they’ll be alright for now. We’ve got to get you out of here.”
And they dragged her again, this time only for a short distance. She complied, walking at first and then running down the gentle hill toward the houses below. From a joining road to the left Mitchell appeared, walking purposefully in their direction with a hand gun out and pointing down to the ground. His eyes were darting this way and that, looking for danger. He was distracted by the night’s activities and spoke in English unconsciously: “Slow down,” he advised them. “There’s no one following you.”
Daniel likewise responded in English. “We’d better get off the street… this way.” He directed them to the bottom of the hill and then to the right. The roads were deserted and they travelled unnoticed. All the people of the town were still up at the square.
With some speed they had arrived at Daniel’s town house and entered. It was dark and closed up as he had spent many weeks at the farm. Mitchell entered last, closing and locking the door behind him. He checked his weapon, pushing it down the back of his pants. “Do all your parties end like this?” he asked Daniel blandly, returning to the local tongue.
Daniel true to his nature missed the subtle joke. “This isn’t usual. Did you see what happened? Carl pushed Sammy into hitting him.”
Joanna sat at the table and sighed, safe now in the house. “He didn’t expect Sammy to hit him,” she observed. “He was hoping for Lewis.”
“He sure looked surprised though.” Mitchell was chuckling to himself. “Did you see him go down? That was some punch.”
Emily was shaking her head, trying to clear the confusion of the last few minutes and take control. “What are we going to do?” she asked them with desperation creeping into her voice.
Daniel had sat down next to his mother. “Do?” he replied, “We do nothing yet. They’re in the watch-house tonight.” Then he said something Emily had not wanted to hear: “There’ll be an interrogation tomorrow.”
Emily’s eyes widened. She had caught the word but had not quite understood its meaning. At least she thought she knew what he meant, but he needed to be clearer. “What does that mean?” she asked him straight out, “they are not going to hurt them, are they?”
“Oh no…” Daniel replied, trying to allay her fears. “They’ll ask questions and decide what happened. There’ll be a penalty for the wrong doer. I suspect Sammy will be in some trouble.”
“But he was only defending me against…”
Daniel held out his hand, stalling her argument. “It won’t matter. Master Delvore will no doubt control the proceedings unless I can talk one of the elders into hearing the case. He’ll make sure Sammy is held to account and not his own son.”
“That was…” She couldn’t finish her question. The answer was obvious.
Daniel nodded. “I’d better go and talk to some people,” he said decisively. “Witnesses on our side would be a good idea, and I’ll talk to Laydon. If I can get him to take the trial, then we may have a chance. Mitchell…” He looked to the young officer standing by the door. “…could you stay with the ladies?”
“You do not need any help?”
“No, no,” he waved away the need for assistance. “Just stay here with the others.”
As Daniel went to leave, Mitchell moved away from the door. He looked at the women at the table and something seemed to occur to him. “We are missing someone,” he observed, then realised who it was. “Thom… Has anyone seen him?”
They hadn’t and Mitchell looked concerned.
Daniel grasped the handle to the door, preparing to depart into the night. Already the sounds of his neighbours could be heard, returning from the festival. “He should be all right - he doesn’t stick out as much as you ‘tallies’. I’ll look about for him too. He probably ran back to the farm when the fighting started.” Daniel’s face was unreadable and stony, but there was an edge of anger in his voice. He was clearly not happy with what had transpired that night.  “I don’t really blame him after what he’s been through.”
  
***

The room was small, windowless and dark, the only door solid and cold.  Above them there was an open hole from which the elements, such as the cool night, descended upon those interned there. The day was beginning and the inky blackness broken by twinkling stars gave way to deep blue and pink clouds, and then to morning. 
Jim and Sammy sat along the opposite wall to the doorway on a narrow bed whilst Lewis passed to and fro in front of them, quietly swearing to himself. Abruptly, Lewis stopped and addressed the large Indian man: “I’m really sorry, Sammy.” He’d said that several times in the last few hours. “I didn’t mean to get caught up in another fight, and I didn’t mean to drag you into it.”
“It wasn’t you who hit him.” Sammy thumbed his own chest. “It was me. It was my fault.”
Jim had been silent all the while they had been there. For the last few hours he had been seething, unable to speak to either of them. Now the sun was coming up he was calm enough to discuss their predicament. “What about that?” he asked Sammy pointedly, then observed: “That’s not like you at all.”
Sammy leant back against the wall. “Do we really know all that much about each other?” he asked. “I could hit people all the time.”
“Yeah, right...” Jim shook his head. “Sure you do. I think I know you well enough to know you don’t. Anyway, I’m sure you’ve wanted to hit me lots of times and you haven’t.”
“But I like you.” Sammy smiled at him blandly.
“Is that right?” Jim’s question had a touch of sarcasm and he was shaking his head slowly. “Anyway…” Jim added, looking to the young man that shared their cell, “what was that all about?”
Lewis looked a little shamefaced. Perhaps he was hoping the reason would have some meaning, be of some deep significance. “A girl…” he mumbled.
Jim had heard him and he stared at the young man for a moment and then slowly blinked. A smile formed on his lips, turning to a broad grin. Lewis relaxed some when Jim spoke again. “That’s alright then,” he pronounced.
Outside the door there was a noise of feet and clanging metal. Lewis put his ear against the door whispering: “Someone’s coming.”
The door was being unlocked and Jim was already moving to stand. “Here we go…” he said, straightening himself up, standing ready to face whatever was coming their way.
The door swung open, casting artificial light into the small room from a lamp that was hanging on the wall opposite. Outside were two short, stocky and dark shapes, holding long sticks in their hands, probably the same guards as the night before.
“Come on in boys,” Jim said cheerily.  For some reason he always found the role of the ‘smartarse’ comforting. He waved them in, declaring: “We’ve been expecting company.”
The first of the guards was in no mood for games, “Out!” he yelled, grabbing Lewis by the shirt and hauling him into the passage outside the door. Sammy was already heading through without assistance, complying without comment.
Jim kept his smile but did not move. “What, no ‘please’?” he asked them.
“Out…!” The guard repeated himself, adding: “…Please!”
Jim nodded in satisfaction, slowly making his way to the door. The other guard had not spoke as yet, but the speed of Jim’s movement inspired him. “Take your time,” he offered menacingly.
“Lovely hospitality,” Jim smiled to them as he passed, gaining as his reward a shove down the passage outside the cell. He stumbled several paces but recovered his feet. He almost fell into the room to which they had been sent.
It was bare save for a desk near the back wall and two chairs – one behind the table and one over against one of the walls. It was much better lit than the cell that they had spent the night in. There were open windows along the back wall opposite a closed door. They were poked into position before the empty desk and the guards stepped back. It was obvious they were being made to wait, for something or somebody. Lewis stood rigid – his eyes wide open and looking ahead – not sure of what was about to happen. 
Sammy turned his head and whispered to Jim in English: “What was that word you used before?”
Jim whispered back. “‘Hospitality’,” he explained, “Daniel taught it to me. I wanted to thank Joanna. I didn’t think I’d need it again, but there you go.”
“You’re not going to make many friends here, baiting them like that.”
The whispered conversation was interrupted by one the guards behind them. He spoke a name that all three had heard before. He announced the arrival of the owner of the land they all worked: “Lord Delvore.”
This time it was Jim that swore, in English and under his breath. He screwed his eyes shut and lowered his head.
“Well now…” Delvore was saying behind them, his voice dripping with false sincerity. “Welcome my friends… welcome.”
The short balding man sat in the chair before them, his pale skin gleaming in the morning light. His face, although displaying the presence of sickliness was radiant in victory. “I trust you had a comfortable night.” He looked as if he couldn’t care less about the answer.
Jim gave it to him regardless, raising his face to the man and smiling. “Thank you, yes. But it was a bit… ah, let’s say, ‘drafty’.”
Delvore shook his head in mock apology but he was still smiling. “I am truly sorry to hear the room was not to your liking. Never mind…” Then his expression changed and grew harder. “Let’s get to the point: ever since your arrival to my town I have wanted to get rid of you. It is nothing personal. You have defied me and I cannot afford that to happen again. The future of this town relies on the presence of respect and order. You three seem to care little for either.”
Delvore smiled again, placing both hands on his belly, folding them together. “But I do have to say ‘thank you’…,” he said.
Jim was confused. First the man said he wanted them out of the way and then he had thanked them. “What for…?” Jim asked him.
“…For breaking my son’s nose, of course.”
Lewis gasped. “He was your son?”
Delvore nodded, smiling. “He’s not too bright, I agree,” he confessed, “…and I hope you knocked some sense into him – though I doubt it.” Leaning back in his chair, his smile widened. He was obviously quite pleased with the way things had turned out. “Attacking him has proved one thing however: you are a danger to the people in this town,” he declared, “and I think it’s time you left, don’t you?”
There was silence for a moment while all present considered what had just been said. Finally Jim rose up to answer it. He drew breath, about to speak but was interrupted by someone clearing their throat in the doorway behind them. Jim turned slightly to see who it was, whilst at the same time keeping a wary eye on Delvore.
Boyes, one of the elders that Jim had met the previous night was walking into the room towards them all. “Thank you so much Master Delvore for starting proceedings for us,” he was saying. “We apologise for the delay this morning…” Jim had detected an equal portion of insincerity in his voice as the master had exhibited. Politics were in play here. Jim knew he had Laydon’s support but was not entirely sure of where Boyes stood.
As it turned out, Boyes was not prepared to stand – he waited impatiently while the sick landlord slowly and painfully vacated the seat. Replacing Delvore he sat, ready to hold court.
“Now then, what is all this about? No…” His hand was held up as they all prepared to answer him. “…not all at once. You…” he pointed to Sammy. “What happened?”
Sammy was matter-of-fact and blunt. “I hit this man’s son,” he explained, pointing to the master standing to the side.
The elder looked at the big man disdainfully. “I know that already. I was there, you know. What I would like to know is why?”
“There was something said against a good friend of mine,” Sammy did not take his eyes from the elder behind the desk. “Something I cannot repeat. I lost my temper for a short moment, and I am sorry about that. I am not known for moments of violence as these others will tell you.”
Delvore stepped forward. He was not finished with the men. He still had something to say. “What my son said does not matter,” he argued. “What does matter is that these three have disturbed the peace twice and this time resorted to violence. What will happen next? I can only imagine.”
Boyes looked at him evenly, not being drawn into the argument. “That will do Delvore. You will have your chance soon enough. It seems, however, that this account has some witness collaboration.”
Jim coughed, slightly surprised that people in the town were falling in behind them. “Your pardon, Excellency,” he interrupted the proceedings. “Do you mean there are others that agree with us?”
Boyes looked slightly annoyed at the misplaced honorific. “That is what I just said. Yes, lucky for you. Now…” He was looking about the room. “Where’s that miscreant of a son of yours, Delvore? I don’t see him.” He had no doubt seen exactly who was in the room and the absence of the young man that had caused all the trouble would have come as no surprise to him.
“Unwell.” The master was stepping forward toward the table, looking at the imposing form of Sammy with a haughty eye. “He was badly injured last night. He’s still in bed,” Delvore explained.
Boyes was looking increasingly irritated and Jim was beginning to think things were swinging their way.
“Well this won’t do. We need to speak to him as well.” Boyes glanced at the nearest guard loftily, dismissing him with a wave of his arm. A ‘royal’ command was issued: “Fetch him!”
Delvore watched his minion depart the room, a slight worried look crossing his face. “I don’t think he could add anything to the reports we already have,” he argued, less strenuously than before.
Boyes allowed a slight smile to form on his lips. “I’m not going to ask him anything – I’m going to tell him. It seems to me you have a choice, Master Delvore. If you insist in pushing this assault issue then I will have to pass judgement on all concerned – including your son. I would consider dropping this matter, but that’s entirely up to you.”
The elder’s face became stern. “You need to control that boy,” he advised. “He’s more trouble than these three put together.”
Delvore was livid. His face grew red as he held his breath. Jim thought he would explode at any moment. He said nothing though – there was nothing he could say. He had wealth and power but in this circumstance he was just another citizen and it was driving him mad.
There was silence for the longest time. No one dared speak. Delvore flopped down into the chair against the wall and scowled. Boyes sat unmoving behind his desk, scanning the three before him, daring any one of them to speak. Jim stood as motionless as possible. He avoided eye contact with the elder, choosing instead a contrite appearance – looking down at his boots. This continued for some ten minutes. The wait became almost unbearable. Jim felt an itch grow in his right leg and valiantly resisted the urge to reach down and scratch it lest the action should swing the gruff elder’s views back towards the rich landowner sitting against the wall.
When the door opened again there was an audible sigh of relief from all concerned. Jim listened intently without turning his head – there were three sets of feet behind him and the sound of panting – of pain.
“Ah. Carl Delvore,” the elder spoke lightly, a disarming smile on his face. “At last… step forward young man.”
Jim reached out an arm, pushing the other two aside to allow Carl to appear before the elder.
There was a slight edge to the elder’s speech, a slight insincerity, but it was lost on Carl. Boyes voice remained friendly, “You don’t look too well this morning, Carl. How are you feeling?” he asked, watching with cruel satisfaction the young man relax. He obviously thought he was now out of trouble, here to testify against the three.
He spoke in a low nasal voice, thick with sharp pain. Boyes made him repeat himself twice, allowing him to simply explain what Sammy had done to him. He turned to face where Sammy stood. His eyes were darkened with bruising, his nose red, angry, and slightly misshapen. 
Jim spoke to Sammy quietly out of the corner of his mouth in English, admiring the big man’s handiwork: “Good work.”
Boyes gave Jim a cold, hard look – inviting silence – and then turned his withering gaze to Carl. Now his voice lost its friendliness. It was now icy and direct. “If you had said the same thing to my daughter, I would have hit you too – and a lot harder. You are very lucky these three big people didn’t kill you.”
Carl looked back in shock now. Hopes of legal recourse were quickly fading. He opened his mouth to speak his defence, only managing two words: “But he…”
The elder interrupted him. “He did you a favour. He stopped you from saying something worse – if that was possible. You went looking for a fight last night. You were fully intending to disturb the peace, but these men were just minding their own business.” He sat back in his chair, considering judgement. “Now…” he concluded, “…the peace was disturbed and Master Delvore insists on some penalty, so step forward…” He motioned to the shaking Carl. “And you…” to Sammy, who stood calm and unafraid. “Master Delvore, stand up.”
Jim heard the sick old man stand slowly. He was not looking too well. He was even paler than when he’d arrived and now had sweat forming in beads over his forehead. Boyes looked on him with a thinly veiled form of contempt with a small smile on his lips – or so Jim could tell.
“Are you still intent on forcing the law here on these two?” he asked Delvore, continuing with advice: “Whatever penalty I decide to apply will fall on both. On your son as well…”
Delvore looked first to Carl, then to Sammy and then back to the elder. He appeared like a caged animal. He had nowhere to go, he was beaten. He dropped his head and spoke quietly to the floor.
“What was that?” the elder demanded.
Delvore lifted his head, “Forget it,” he exclaimed angrily. “Carl…” he grabbed his son, “…we’re leaving.”
“Are you sure?” Boyes was almost taunting him.
“Quite sure…”
Delvore and his son were out the door in a flourish and it slammed behind them, leaving the elder alone with the three men.
“That’s that then,” Boyes remarked with an air of finality. He stood, moving around the table, making for the door after Delvore and his son.
“Thank you Elder Boyes…” Jim began.
“Save it. Just go home…” The elder was in no better mood with the three than with the master. He muttered under his breath as he pushed his way out into the sunshine: “I need some breakfast.”

***

Emily had dragged Daniel out of bed early that next morning, so eager was she to observe what had eventuated for Jim and the others. Daniel had made enquiries the night before with Elder Laydon and learnt that the questioning would happen the next day – as was the custom. The men would spend the night in the watch-house. 
The sun rose, its rays falling full on Emily’s face through the window in the second room of Daniel’s town house. Once up, she forced Daniel out of bed and out the door. He protested about the lack of breakfast all the way up the hill and across to the watch-house at the north-western point of the village.
Laydon met them a short distance from the house and advised them that the questioning had begun – in truth it was almost complete. Elder Boyes was in session and Daniel winced with pain. Judging by the farmer’s reaction, perhaps there would not be a favourable outcome after all.
Soon after, a sickly looking short man emerged angrily from the watch house, half dragging the young man whom Sammy had hit. It was obvious their landlord’s son’s nose was broken - his bruised eyes were evidence of the fact. Blood started to drip from his nostrils as he was pulled, protesting as he went, towards the east side of the town and out of sight. Another followed a very short time after, his face set grimly - Laydon identified him as Boyes. As he passed before Emily, Daniel and Laydon there appeared a faint smile on his face and he gave a sly wink to his fellow elder.
“A good result I think,” Laydon remarked, quietly laughing to himself.
Finally the three emerged into the sunlight and they blinked, shielding their eyes against the morning light. Emily cried with delight and ran to them – throwing her arms around Sammy first – her defender – and then Lewis and Jim in turn.
“You weren’t worried were you?” Jim asked her, trying to sound emotionally affected.
“No way!” she snorted. “You guys can look after yourselves.”
“We can get into trouble easily, that’s for sure,” Lewis remarked ruefully.
Jim was teasing her gently. “You’re here to see how we are?”
“To clean up after you more like it,” she replied, taking up his challenge. “You left everything in a mess.” Then when Lewis’s stomach growled noisily, she asked: “Had breakfast?”
“Are you kidding?” Lewis answered her, “I’m starving.”

***

Things had settled remarkably quickly in the town by the next day. It was clear that the town’s folk were secretly impressed that there were some who were not afraid of Delvore and his clan.
There was still no sign of Thom. Daniel had rightly assumed that he had turned tail and fled the town when trouble had come. Jim understood. He also knew that all the members of the group needed to stand together, not desert the others at the first sign of trouble. Thom returned two days later, shame faced like a scolded dog and Jim felt the uneasiness grow in him again every time he looked at the short man. He could not shake the feeling that something was wrong deep down in its very core.
It rained for a week then, and their crop started to grow very well, certainly much taller than the crops in the plots around them. The heads were forming well and were full of promise. Daniel looked at this improved produce with amazement, predicting a very good price come harvest.
The rain turned the roads into small flowing rivers and made them quite impassable. The group were isolated for a week in their small yard – unable to venture out to the town and beyond. One morning the clouds parted and the sun shone onto the land. They emerged from their hibernation, shaking off the claustrophobia that had hung over them like a heavy blanket.
The plants in the field now stood waist high – they would ordinarily reach to Daniel’s knees and grow no further but these looked to have even more potential in them. The group of eight stood on the low stone wall between the yard and the field and viewed with wonder the crop they had lovingly tended.

***

Evening came and the sky cleared further, allowing stars to appear here and there in the darkening heavens. The recently running streams had become roads again and were passable, yet extremely muddy. 
Someone had left the town that evening, before the light had faded, and walked down those muddy roads. By the time she reached the gate it was dark and the lights from the farm house beckoned invitingly. 
The figure that appeared out of the darkness, holding a strange long metal stick in front of him, was less than inviting. He looked down over the robed and hooded form as they waited at the gate, glaring threateningly. The voice from under the hood was soft, a young woman’s voice.
Mitchell grumbled as he clumped up to the house, knocking loudly on the heavy wooden door. Light flooded the yard when it opened and Sammy’s face appeared. Mitchell looked past him, into the warm room inside. He searched out one of the young men, giving him news:
“Lewis,” Mitchell said cautiously, “…you have a visitor.”

Chapter Fourteen

Lewis walked casually down from the house despite the attitude of Mitchell. The young officer had been nervous after the previous week’s events and the visitor at the gate had initially put him on edge. Now he was just surly.
The robed and hooded figure was still standing by the gate when he arrived. There was only one other tall person he knew of other than his companions: the young woman that he had spoken to at the festival.
“Hello again,” he called to her as he approached. She pulled back her hood and her pale skin shone in the moonlight.
She returned his greeting, her face showing concern.
Lewis unlatched the gate, letting it swing gracefully, but his guest made no move to pass through it.
“How are you?” he asked her, smiling amicably.
Her face betrayed her feelings but her words told him otherwise. “Fine… and you…?”
“Good.”
There was silence for a moment. Finally Lewis jumped in. “I am sorry about before,” he said. “I did not mean to get you upset.”
“I think it’s me that should be sorry,” she confessed, almost shame-faced. “I should never have reacted that way. You would never have got into trouble if I’d controlled myself. That brother of mine…” She almost spat in disgust when she spoke of Carl.
Lewis shook his head. “He was out for a fight long before we met. I just gave him an excuse. He’ll think twice now before he jumps in again.” He started to chuckle. “Did you see his nose?”
Victoria smiled – she had seen it – and obviously thought it was his just rewards for interfering in her affairs.
He found himself attracted to her but the events of the previous week had spoilt their meeting. “How about we start over? My name is Lewis,” he said, extending his hand out for her to shake it.
“Victoria.” She took his hand and smiled, finally sure that there was no ill will.
He nodded after hearing her name. “Victoria. This is our home, our farm…” He smiled again. “…actually,” he added slyly, “I believe your family owns it. Would you like to come up?” He motioned up to the house.
“No. I can’t stay long. I’ll be missed. I just came to see how you were – after last week.”
“I have had worse nights, do not worry.”
“I’m sorry anyway.”
He accepted her apology (despite it being unnecessary) by nodding quietly, and then neither of them spoke for a long minute. The night was dark, silent and peaceful. Both of them sighed, almost at the same time. 
He liked this girl. That would have been enough for him to break into a cold sweat. “It’s funny,” he said suddenly, the realisation coming to him seconds before.  “Usually I am tongue tied around a pretty girl.”
“You think I’m pretty?” she asked him, ignoring his epiphany.
“Oh yes,” he sighed, then he searched through his working vocabulary for the word he was looking for, finally resorting to English. “Absolutely,” he said confidently.
She didn’t understand the word and he let it go, but it was true to him. Absolutely.
“My people think I’m too tall,” she explained. “The boys are a little put off by my height.”
“I think you are just right. You would be average where I come from.”
“Really…?”
“Oh yes, we’re all about your height. I think you have noticed that.”
The door to the farm house opened with a creak and one of his friends came out into the night. Jim came around the front and walked to the low, stone wall that bordered the plot, now almost ready for harvest.
She watched him walk to the wall, recognition in her eyes. When she turned back to Lewis he was smiling at her. She was probably teased all her life for her height, but here she was normal. Here she would not be derided for being different.
She lowered her beautiful, dark eyes when she realised he had been staring at her. He had seen her, standing strong and defiant – but she could also be vulnerable and fragile.
“Where do you come from?” she asked him, obviously seeking to fill in the silence.
Should he tell her the truth? Would she understand it? Did he want to start keeping things from her, with their relationship – if that was what it was – in its early days? “It’s not a matter of where – but when,” he said finally deciding on the truth.
“When…?” She looked confused.
“Yes,” he sighed. “We are from here – this country, but a long time ago.” What he was staying was going to be completely absurd to her, so he kept a straight face. He didn’t want her thinking he was making a fool of her. 
She had thought it that way. “That’s crazy,” she said, laughing nervously.
He held up his hand, almost taking an oath. “Crazy – but true,” he declared. “Do not ask me to explain it. Jim knows more about all of this than I do. We were sleeping all that time… now, we are here.”
She narrowed her eyes and regarded him closely. The word ‘sleeping’ had caught her attention. “You’re actually serious. You believe that?”
“It’s not a matter of believing. It just is. I could show you if you’d like.”
“Show me what?” She turned her head, intrigued.
“Things from the past,” he explained. “Things you have never seen before.”
There was silence for a moment while Victoria processed what he was saying. Perhaps she had a suspicion he had been playing with her. Now she was sure. “You’re trying to trick me, aren’t you,” she accused him. There was a slight edge in her voice.
He let it go. She wasn’t going to understand. Not yet. “Sure,” he said, smiling.
They were laughing again moments later, the tenseness of the air around them evaporating.
“Would you like to do something with me sometime?” she asked him when the laugher had died down.
“You and me…?” He was surprised. Perhaps this was going somewhere. “Sure,” he agreed. “What did you have in mind?”

***

Jim sat on the wall, a place where he came regularly to sit and think. His right shoulder was aching. The cold floor of the watch-house where he had ‘slept’ the week before had been uncomfortable and the old injury was making its presence felt. Jim massaged behind his clavicle and into the neck, finding where the muscles were tight and kneading them into submission.
The night was cool and dark. The moon was nowhere to be seen and the only light in the sky was provided by a majestic vista of stars. Jim looked up into the sky and sighed deeply. 
He had been in this place for two months now, and things were slowly changing. Jim could see conflict growing with every day. Someday soon there would be another confrontation with their landlord and things might not go as well as they had earlier. It irritated Jim some that all of the work that they did on this land benefited Delvore. They were not working for themselves but for this man, who had up to this day shown nothing but contempt for them. Delvore would be better served to keep them here and happy rather than seeking them gone – but that was his business.
Jim winced when he found a tight knot in his neck and absorbed himself with the task of working it out. He did not hear the light footsteps behind him until the owner of the feet spoke gently.
“James?” Joanna asked, announcing her presence as she did. “Your neck is sore?” she observed.
He turned slightly to see her in the corner of his eye. “Oh? Yes,” he agreed. “My neck gets tight because of my shoulder – an old injury.”
She accepted his explanation wordlessly, coming to his side and pointing to a place next to him. “Can I sit here with you?” she asked, and he nodded his permission.
She sighed, looking up into the night sky, dark but awash with tiny points of light – as Jim himself had done earlier. “The stars are bright tonight,” she observed quietly.
He was gazing upwards as well. “They are, aren’t they?” he agreed.
Ahead of them, standing tall and waving in the gentle breeze, their crop waited patiently.
“We will be harvesting all that soon,” he said quietly. There was noise from the house but it was not loud enough to drown out their words. Jim knew that Lewis and the girl he had talked with at the party the previous week were standing by the gate and talking. He could not hear them speak. “We should do quite well,” he added. “Hopefully we’ll be able to keep all seven of us going for the next year.”
This factor above all things was important. If the crop did not do well then there could be some real problems, but Jim was quietly confident.
“The plants grown better,” she observed.
“That is Mitch’s doing,” Jim explained. “I just do as I’m told.”
Now that things had settled again on the farm after the sudden appearance of Mitchell and Thom, Joanna had calmed herself. The newcomers had learnt her language and had gotten to know her so much better. Still, she had been used to doing things her way, and now these odd strangers were turning her life upside down. “It must be quite a shock having us all just show up and take over,” he said quietly.
“It has been different here since you all arrived,” she agreed, “but I have come to enjoy the company.” She stopped for a moment, thinking. Jim could not see her expression, but he could sense, even in the dark, that there was conflict. “My husband told me the story, what he calls the true story, of the sleepers and the watchers…”
Jim nodded. He’d heard it.
“Daniel tells me you are the ‘Sleepers’ that my husband talked about.”
He wasn’t sure that what Samuel had called ‘Sleepers’ was entirely accurate but it was a name that had stuck to them. Daniel’s family had been waiting for people to emerge from The Installation and that was where they had come from. “I guess the name fits,” he conceded.
When he had spoken those words, she sighed and lowered her gaze. “All those years I didn’t believe him,” she whispered sadly. “All those years I thought he was crazy. I was never a good wife to him. I didn’t stand by him.”
Despite what he had believed about his dream, Jim could not allow her to feel guilty about what was outside of her knowledge. “I don’t think he holds it against you,” he whispered back, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. He knew that Samuel didn’t hold a grudge, her husband had moved on in a manner of speaking. “People can sometimes have some crazy ideas,” he was saying, “Sometimes they turn out right – but mostly they are just crazy. Who can tell the difference? I’ve never been able to.” If there was enough light she would have seen him smiling. “You are helping us – that’s making it right don’t you think?”
“Perhaps…” She didn’t sound convinced.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You have gone through a lot and I’m sorry to say there will probably be more to come. You mentioned purposes before – well, I think there are purposes at work here – pushing us along to some place, some time.” Jim wasn’t just talking now to comfort her, he was talking about things that were growing true by the day – he could feel it right down in his bones. “Someone is moving things around, moving us around and you are part of this the same as I am.”
“You’re right, there is a purpose here,” she thought for a moment, and then asked, “but where does it lead?”
“I don’t know,” Jim shrugged. “I just hope it’s somewhere good. The only sure thing I can say is that we are all family here. Wherever we go, we go together.”

***

All in all, the events of the festival were not held against the group by the town folk. If anything it improved their standing in the district simply because they were seen to stand up against Delvore and his regime. They had all at one time felt compelled to defy the family but were not strong enough to do it. They looked at Jim and the others with a new-found respect. 
Emily and Lewis had taken several trips into the town and were spending time with the young people there. It seemed as the months progressed that Lewis was becoming more and more involved with Victoria and they seemed to be growing very close. The remainder of the group remained on the farm and continued to improve the operations there. 
The months moved on slowly and there seemed to be something stirring in the air. There was a feeling of general disquiet that was daily growing the closer the date moved towards harvest time. Most mornings Jim would rise, shake off the remnants of the night before and stand on the fence looking out, gazing along the horizon over the top of the growing crop, sniffing the air for trouble. Soon Jim’s mood filtered down to the others. There fell on the farm a growing disquiet which led to petty squabbling until Emily and Joanna ordered hostilities to cease on pain of hunger.
The days grew shorter and colder and after a short trip to town Daniel announced that the region was starting to collect their produce for sale in the city. Between Daniel and Mitch a plan was formed to bring in the harvest and prepare it for transport to the town. By the end of the week, with all hands working, the task was complete and they could all now wait in anticipation for the final price to be set after it was delivered.

Jim had been inside when he heard yelling from the yard. Someone outside was calling their names. Not the women’s names, the men’s. There was an edge of urgency about it and this alone pushed those in the house to action.
Mitchell was out the door first and Jim followed him out into the yard. It was midmorning and the sun was well up in the sky and the air was cool, the start of winter. Lewis was running up from the fence, calling their names as he ran. They met half way. He was pointing down to the road. There was a group of three men already making their way into the yard. Daniel had come from the shed and joined them just as Jim had stepped up to intercept the visitors.
“Can I help you gentlemen?” he asked them, a vague threat in his voice.
The leader, standing in front of the other two, regarded him arrogantly and turned to see Daniel at the side of the house, standing rooted to the spot. He waved his compatriots over to join him and advanced menacingly.
“Show me the crop,” he demanded of the short farmer, ignoring all others in his way.
Jim would not be deterred. “Hang on mate,” he said, stepping in between Daniel and the stranger, his hand out to halt the advance. “You can’t come in here ordering us about like that!”
“Is that right? We will see about that,” the leader sneered and then turned to his minions. “Keep these others back while the ‘madman’s son’ and I do business.”
“I’ve had enough of this,” Jim announced, with every muscle bunching for sudden violence. “Bugger off you three,” he demanded, and then turned to Mitchell who was standing by his side. “Mitch, get the rifle.”
There was a period then, when nothing transpired. All present stood and stared at each other, daring the other to move. These three were clearly not accustomed to meeting resistance. They were not as tall as Jim or Lewis but were well built and were clearly going to be a match for the taller men.
Surprisingly, Daniel stepped into the middle of the conflict trying to forestall any violence. “Jim, it’s all right,” he pleaded. “Please, let’s sort this out without fighting.”
“Are you mad?” Jim exclaimed. “I’m not letting these guys anywhere near our crop. I don’t care who they are.”
Daniel’s anger was growing as quickly as Jim’s had done. “But it’s not our crop – Its Delvore’s,” he explained. “He owns it as sure as he owns the land we are standing on. These men are here to agree on a price and its division.”
The leader was smiling and nodding at Jim, the self-assured half smile worn by the arrogant. “Are we done?” he demanded. “Now, stand back and let me do my job.”
Jim heard the rifle snap to Mitch’s shoulder. He had collected it and ran back to the altercation. He didn’t speak – the previous interaction had been heard and noted – and now Mitch stood his ground and waited for instructions.
“You didn’t mention this before,” Jim noted, his anger directed to the farmer.
Daniel stood his ground. “Didn’t I?” he asked almost sarcastically. “It’s the way thing are done…” 
Daniel had neglected to mention this part of the process, but despite that, Jim had no choice but to defuse the situation. He turned and spoke quietly to Mitchell, telling him to back off and the officer obediently brought the rifle down.
Daniel and the leader walked away from the main group, moving to the pile of harvested crops by the barn that had been grouped and tied ready for transport.
“When do I get to shoot someone?” Mitchell asked with no hint of humour in his voice.
“Maybe later,” Jim answered blandly. “I’ll let you know.”
“I’d appreciate it.”
This development had been unexpected and its arrival had thrown him. Daniel and Delvore’s assessor were some distance away. Their discussion was spirited but Jim was unable to hear it. He put a finger to his lips, silencing the officer, and saying, “I’m trying to listen.”
Daniel’s face became redder and his voice became louder until finally he shouted a word that Jim neither understood nor had heard before. Its meaning was clear however, and Jim ran past the two minders and reached Daniel’s side. Mitch had moved in a blocking position and stood his ground against the advancing thugs. They did not understand the function of the rifle but understood it was a weapon and halted their progress.
Confident that his back was covered, Jim jumped headlong into the argument. “What’s going on here?” he demanded.
Daniel spat at Delvore’s man, “He’s offering a quarter less than agreed! He says our crop is of poor quality.”
Jim gasped at the response. “Poor…? Are you mad? Have you even looked at it? This is far better than anything you would have ever seen!”
“That’s the price,” the man told Daniel flatly. “This is what comes from getting on the wrong side of His Lordship. You knew there’d be trouble when you stood up for these…” He was clearly pointing to Jim and the others. 
Jim understood. Delvore had played his cards. If he could not push them out then maybe he could starve them. “All right,” Jim said quietly, offering cold look of hatred.  “You’ve done your job – now clear off and take those two with you.” When they did not move immediately, Jim added, “Go on… on your bike.” There was no local word for ‘bike’, so he added the English word for effect.
The three retreated then, making their way between the group and out to the gate leaving it ajar as they passed out and onto the road. Mitchell was walking slowly behind them, his rifle at the ready, watching as they continued on back to town. He closed the gate as he did and marched back to the house muttering curses under his breath.
The farmer had remained angry and he could see hope slipping away by the second. “Now what are we going to do?” he asked. “There is no way we’re going to survive at that price.”
Jim confidence was in tatters. All his plans were coming to naught. They had been outplayed, but he was determined not to let Delvore get the better of them. More importantly, he was not going to let the others know they were screwed. “Let’s not give up just yet,” he advised them, placing an extra portion of confidence in his voice. “We’ll think of something.”
I hope I think of something, he thought, otherwise… 
She appeared out of nowhere, standing up suddenly when Delvore’s men had vanished down the road. Lewis saw her, going to her side and placing a protective arm about her.
“Where’d you come from?” Jim asked, startled.
“She was hiding behind the fence,” Lewis explained for her.
“Hiding…?” Why was she hiding? She had nothing to fear from those men. 
Lewis could see Jim’s eyes narrow suspiciously. “I think there’s something you should know,” he confessed.  

The following morning Jim had Daniel took him to the elder Laydon’s house on the east side of the town. Jim had been up late thinking through a plan and needed some of his questions answered before he brought it to the rest of the group. The two men were allowed to pass through the township unmolested and they were looked upon with some element of respect. Laydon’s house was small and plain. Daniel said his wife had died some three winters past. Jim believed the elder was still under the cold hand of grief.
“We’re sorry to disturb you at this hour. Are you well?” Jim asked him. The elder received them in his night robe.
“Yes, today I’m well,” Laydon replied, unconvincingly. “And you?”
“Yes, thanks.”
The elder made them get straight to the point, “You’ve got something on your mind?”
“We have a problem,” Daniel announced.
Laydon smiled. “Is there any other reason why you’d be here?”
“We had a visit from the assessors.”
“Ah…” He let them in through the door. “I think I can guess what you are going to say next.”
“The price he offered was considerably less than the agreements. He claimed the crop is of a poor standard.” There was a slight hint of anger in his voice.
Laydon’s jovial attitude dissolved. “I could see that coming,” he confessed. “You crossed him twice. I doubt he’d have forgotten that.”
“The thing is, our crop is definitely not poor,” Jim pointed out, “if anything it’s the opposite.”
Laydon sat at his table, offering a place for the others. “I heard you had a very good return. I don’t see there’s anything you can do, though.”
“Well, that’s why we’re here. Maybe there is, unless what I’m about to suggest is going to break some tribal law?” Jim looked hopeful.
The elder gave him a look of mock irritation. “Tribal law?” he exclaimed. “We’re not that backward!”
The humour was not lost on the tall newcomer. He had a sly smile when he suggested his plan. “What would happen if the crop we harvested was to be destroyed… by fire, for example?”
Laydon thought for a moment. “You’d still have to pay rent on the land, that’s compulsory. You’d have to find some way of paying it – if you can’t then Delvore can remove you and exact some form of payment from you.” Laydon looked concerned. “I wouldn’t burn your crop – that would make things worse.”
“I’m not thinking of really burning it,” Jim protested. “We would just tell him it was – but sell it first for a good price. Then we pay him with the proceeds of the sale and pocket the rest. Would that work?”
Laydon’s expression matched that of Jim’s. He looked slyly back at the others and a wicked grin slowly stretched across his face. “That’s sneaky, but I like it.” Almost immediately his view of the issue changed. “Who would you sell it to?” he asked them, a frown forming on his face. “He’d know what you were up to when someone dumped a huge amount of produce onto the market – then things could get nasty.”
Daniel was not deterred. “Not if we sell a little to a lot of people and then they sell it to Delvore. The product is really quite good. We’ll all get a good price.”
The elder narrowed his eyes. “Have you got a sample here?” he asked them.
“Yes, of course,” Daniel said, pulling out a small wrapped bundle. The head of the plant had been pulled off and brought in for the elder to view.
Laydon looked over a sample and he clearly appeared impressed. “This is the best I’ve ever seen,” he declared, surprised at its quality. “What are you doing on that farm?”
Jim smiled. “It’s a secret.”
“It’s all this good?” Daniel nodded and the elder now carefully considered the proposal, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “I’ll need to talk to Boyes about the legalities of it all, but there’s no rule that I know of that says we have to deal with his lordship directly. It’s just the way we’ve always done it.
“The overall price will be driven up by your product, so it’ll be good for all of us.” He smiled again, a broad and devious smile, and he declared finally, “This could work!”

Jim and Daniel returned about midmorning. The two of them had decided it would be best not to discuss the details fully as many of the others would object to the underhandedness of the plan. Sammy especially was expected to see the operation as one great lie. Jim was not bound by such constraints, being happy to resort to any tactic to get his way. 
The crop was earlier tied into bundles and stacked outside the shed. Now was sorted again and placed on the cart ready for transportation. Jim had ordered rest for the group for the remainder of the day in preparation for a busy night. The sun was setting when they took early supper. They emerged from the house bursting with enthusiasm and pushed the cart out onto the road.
Daniel directed the night’s activities, sending them to several small farms not unlike their own, delivering three bundles each and moving on after taking a small amount of chaff in replacement. 
Jim’s watch read ten o’clock when the work was done. A large pile of old chaff was stacked on the cart where the good crop had been, now distributed about the district. An hour later the pile was dumped on the ground in the yard some distance from the house and barn and set alight. The fire was not large and it burnt up quickly and Jim and the others stood back staring at the flames in thought. Tiny sparks flew into the night sky like fireflies.
Joanna came up to him and quietly spoke. Her son had explained the plan to her. There were no secrets between them. “Do you think this will work?” she asked Jim expectantly.
“Fingers crossed,” he said, slowly turning to her and smiling. 
She frowned. “I’m sorry?”
The expression was obscure to her. “I hope so,” he explained. “It’s up to Laydon now.”
“Ah…” She understood. “This has a large amount of risk attached to it, doesn’t it?”
Jim smiled broadly. “That’s what makes it fun.” The fire was dying down and it was getting late. “Well..,” he said finally, “busy day tomorrow. Better get some sleep. We’ve got to tell our landlord his crop went up in smoke.”
Joanna kept her face straight, “He’s not going to like hearing that,” she remarked.
“That’s a damn shame.”

Morning had arrived and the two men were standing outside the shed waiting for the others to finish their preparations to leave. Jim had discussed at length what would be said and how, but despite thorough planning they were not looking forward to this encounter as it could be potentially dangerous for all of them. They also could not rely on the support of any of the elders as it might compromise the operation. 
The others - Lewis, Mitchell and Emily – were not far behind. They were dressed in their modified local clothing. Emily wore the dress that had caused a change in style recently among the young women of the town. 
Mitchell had been the first to join Jim and Daniel – his hand outstretched, a pistol resting in his palm, offering it to their leader. Jim took the weapon, slipping it into the back of his pants.
Jim shut the gate behind the procession and they followed Daniel into town, to the east side where the much larger and opulent abode of their landlord resided.
They stood at the gate waiting whilst a heavy set man, unarmed and unhappy, lumbered from his seat in the small shack just inside the gate. “Yes?” he grunted, impatiently.
“We are here to see Lord Delvore,” Daniel announced.
“Obviously… What’s this about?”
Jim suspected this man would not have used that tone to all the visitors that passed through here and it was likely he was not used to anyone challenging him. With his annoyance rising with every second Jim reached out and unlatched the gate, swinging it in front of the gatekeeper. Finding his way blocked, the guard stepped back and made an attempt to skirt the gate and face the intruders.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked, nervously.
Jim spoke in quiet, even tones. “We’ve already said what we’re here for. Step aside.”
Mitchell had shouldered his way through the group and was standing behind Jim, smiling and standing tall, menacing the short guard. The man started to back up, looking about for support and found he was all alone. From then onwards Jim ignored the protests he could hear behind him. He strode up a narrow, well maintained road which led directly up to the large house.
Where the houses in the village were small and simple, this residence was in direct contrast. Two storeys tall, the large house were lined with windows across the front and white render covered the walls.
A tall figure appeared on the far end of the veranda, her dress flowing slightly in the gentle breeze. Jim could almost feel Lewis’s breath enter his body and lie suspended within his chest. He smiled at the thought of the sweet pain that this young man was feeling at that moment. Lewis did not leave the tight group as it ascended the steps to the veranda – Jim had counselled him not to break ranks and give away his secret. Jim was pleased the young man still had a small amount of restraint in him. She stood for a moment and then disappeared as quickly as she had appeared – no doubt secreting herself inside to hear the discussions between her father and Lewis and his friends.
They reached the veranda and mounted the steps to the front door. Jim felt compelled to instruct them unnecessarily: “Better let me do all the talking.”
“Are you sure?” Daniel asked him, “I don’t know if he’ll talk to you.”
“He will, trust me,” Jim said grimly. He stood before the door and turned slightly to the others. “Do we knock?” he mused.
Emily pushed her way through the two men at the front. “Honestly,” she said with a sigh and put her fist up to announce their presence.
It was clear they were expected. The door swung grandly inwards before her hand could make contact with the solid wood of the door - inviting them into a sunny sitting room. They would have entered immediately but for a nervous looking servant that stood in their way. This man considered speaking harshly to them but he shrank back at their size and determined appearance.
Jim smiled, but his voice was cold. “Good morning. Is the master of the house at home?”
“He is,” the servant stammered.
“We’re here about a financial matter. Would you announce us? Daniel…” He struggled for a name for them all, adding, “…and party.”
“We’ve got to get a better name for ourselves,” Lewis commented behind.
“Good idea,” Emily replied. “You think of something.”
“Me? I’m no good at that sort of thing.”
“You brought it up.”
The servant stood aghast, listening to the banter between these two, wondering who had arrived at the door step. Jim folded his arms over his chest and waited. “Any chance of you doing it today?” he asked finally.
The servant nodded nervously and shut the door behind him. The sound of his scurrying faded quickly.
Daniel stared at the closed wooden door, speaking quietly to the leader. “You don’t think you are being too abrupt?” he asked.
There was no hint of pleasantness in Jim’s voice. “These people are used to being able to push everyone around,” he explained in deadly seriousness. “I’ve got bad news for them. Things are about to change.”
The door opened suddenly. A minute later the servant stepped aside this time, pointing to the large double doors at the end of the sitting room. Jim stepped in, defiantly striding to the doors with the others close on his heels.
Daniel took a deep breath. He probably had never been in the house of his landlord and many of his countrymen had neither. It was clearly better appointed than any room he had ever seen. As for the tall ones, they were not impressed. It was nowhere near the opulence that they had seen in their past lives, in person or on television.
Jim grasped the golden, coloured metal handles and pushed the doors apart, hoping for a dramatic entrance. He was disappointed. Alone in the room, Jim looked for another entrance for their host. There were several doors lining the far wall which led to the veranda beyond.
Delvore entered through one of those doors grandly, flanked by his son, Carl, and an unknown other. He looked upon his visitors darkly and sat slowly with obvious pain written upon his face. It was not Delvore himself who spoke but the other unnamed individual at his left.
The man regarded the farmer haughtily, asking him, “What is all this about Daniel?”
Daniel chose a suitable contrite posture, but Jim was not inclined to do likewise. He stood tall and spoke clearly and confidently. “We need to talk about our crop.”
The assistant looked down his nose at the tall man. He had been expecting Daniel to speak, but Jim had answered instead. His gaze turned back to Daniel. “What about your crop, Daniel? I understood it had been valued and the price set. Let’s see...” He consulted a sheet of parchment on the table covered in black, spidery marks. “Yes…” He shook his head in disappointment. Jim suspected it was insincere. “It hasn’t been a good year, Daniel.”
Jim stepped in again. “The price was deflated,” he declared.
Now the auditor stared at Jim – his face openly hostile. “Are you accusing Lord Delvore of something?” he asked coldly.
Jim smiled but kept his tongue.
Ignoring Jim again, Delvore’s assistant turned back to the farmer. “The price has been set, Daniel,” he said firmly.
“Yes…” Daniel seemed to be agreeing with him, then he dropped the bombshell, “…there’s been a problem with our crop. There’s been an accident.”
“Accident…?”
Had Jim responded with glee, something that every fibre in his body was telling him to do, then he would have given the game away. Instead he stood still and spoke dispassionately. “A fire,” he said, “burnt the whole thing to the ground.” He shrugged, looking to Daniel. “That’s it, isn’t it?” he asked the farmer. When Daniel nodded agreement, Jim turned on his heel and motioned for the troupe to depart.
Jim’s ushering of the party out the door was interrupted by an angry cry from the old man sitting at the table. “You come back here!” he growled. “I didn’t say you could leave!”
When Jim turned again, this time to face Delvore himself, he mustered all the malice he could manage, funnelling it into a declaration that he hoped would strike fear into the man’s heart. “The days where you can order people about are over, starting today.” Delvore was speechless. “You were going to offer some kind of deal perhaps?” he asked him. “You speak to me now. I’m in charge of things and I’m not going to be pushed around. What do you want?”
The master’s mouth hung agape. His face turned a deep red. Moments later words were forming on his lips – a retort. He did not have the breath to speak them but as the seconds ticked away the air in his lungs started to move. He would have started a tirade if not for his assistant coughing loudly and capturing Delvore’s attention. They spoke quietly together for several minutes and the landlord departed as quickly as he arrived, taking his son with him and not even acknowledging the groups presence as he left.
The official sat in the chair vacated by his master and started to make small tally marks on the parchment. When he had completed his work he looked up and spoke to Jim this time.
“You are required to pay Lord Delvore the agreed rent fee as is in the laws. Failure to do so will see you evicted and your possessions sold to pay the debt. Lord Delvore has graciously granted five days grace. Do you understand these terms?”
“How much…?” Jim asked, getting right to the point.
The assistant looked back at him disdainfully, as if this was something Jim should have known when coming to the table. “Forty parts of the crop yield,” he declared.
“Forty sound right to you?” Jim asked the farmer standing next to him and Daniel nodded. “Five days then,” he said decisively. “We’ll be back.”
At this, Jim turned quickly and was gone through the doors with the others behind him. When they were outside and the main doors of the house were shut firmly behind them, he sighed with relief. “I hope this works,” he muttered.

Chapter Fifteen

When three days had passed and no word had arrived, an air of nervousness began to build. Jim found himself frequently staring out onto the road waiting for a word. He did not want a confrontation to occur here at their home, but he knew that if the funds did not arrive soon, then he may need to take proactive steps to protect their position.
Mitchell knew this too and he was quietly preparing to defend the farm house from an angry mob of amateur soldiers bent on eviction. The cache of weapons brought from the Installation were brought out, disassembled, cleaned and reassembled on the kitchen table with Joanna looking on with apprehension. The prepared weapons were stacked in the corner of the large communal room wrapped in blankets ready for use. They were as yet unloaded – the ammunition sat in boxes next to the wrapped rifles away from the cooking fire. He also had taken to a section of earth behind the shed with a shovel, digging a large hole big enough to hold several people standing, and constructed a covering of materials that would disguise its purpose. The hole could cover the house and the shed without divulging its presence.

***

Lewis awoke with a start, his heart pounding and sweat forming like beads of dew on his forehead. In recent times his dreams had been elusive. He barely remembered anything of his nocturnal adventures, but this morning was different. What he had experienced was so real. He could still see the bright, red blood dripping from his hands and see the cold hard steel glinting in the half-light. There was a body on the ground – blood running freely from the wound in his belly. He was dead, that was for sure – his face was pale grey with death. His life ran out into the cracks between the stones on the floor, running down between Lewis’s parted feet. 
He was not alone. There was another standing nearby. He could not see his face, it was dark and indistinct – but he could hear his voice clearly, “Well done, my son, well done. You’ve saved us.”
He looked down at the blood on his hands again. It was soaking into the pores of his skin, into the lines of his hands. He was sure the stain would never be erased.
“This man would have destroyed our kingdom. Well done.”
Lewis went to the table at the rear of the shed and took a bottle of water from the stack. The water contained within it was refilled from water collected from the nearby lake. It was well received, the water soothing his dry throat and lips. He splashed some on his face and neck – washing away the sweat and the fine grime that had built up over the last week. He took his bottle outside into the dawning of the day. The sun’s light appearing slowly in the east made soft pink colours in the clouds on the horizon. There were still stars, slowly fading as the sky above him turned gradually from black to blue. He walked over to the wall and sat down. 
They all sat there at one time or another, looking over their work in the field, or talking over important matters. There were times when solitude was welcome but seldom found. He relished this moment to think about his future and about the people he had left behind - people he may never see again – family. Perhaps, he mused, they are sleeping like I was. Perhaps they are still down there in the dark, waiting for release.
He realised he was not alone that beautiful morning, there was another stirring. Thom spoke, making Lewis turn his head. “You are up early,” he commented.
“Nightmare, what’s your excuse?”
“I’m always up this early. Can I?” he asked, pointing to the space on the wall next to Lewis. “You’re seeing a lot of that girl from the village, Victoria isn’t it?”
“So?” Lewis responded indifferently.
He shrugged. “Nothing… She seems nice, that’s all. You like her, yes?”
“Yes, Thom, I like her.”
“Good for you.” Thom flashed him a sly smile. “I hear she’s rich.”
Lewis didn’t like where this was going. He viewed Thom suspiciously. “Her father’s rich,” he qualified.
“Still, you’re on to a good thing there.”
Lewis moved from suspicion to annoyance. “I don’t care about that. She’s more to me than that.”
“Of course…” Thom stretched. If he saw how Lewis was feeling, he didn’t show it. “Well, got to get Sammy up, we’re going down to the lake for water.” He placed a hand on Lewis’s shoulder, pushing himself up onto his feet and making for the shed without another word – leaving Lewis wondering what all that was about.

***

The deadline day had finally arrived and still there was no word from Laydon – or the funds they desperately needed to survive there. They grew all the more anxious with each passing hour until finally there was a call from the gate. Mitchell escorted the elder up to the house.
“Good news?” Jim asked him eagerly.
“We’d better go inside.” The elder was not smiling. 
The others were waiting in the inside – except for Mitchell who was standing guard, watching the road. 
Laydon didn’t look at any of them as he sat heavily at Joanna’s table. Things had not gone well. 
“It didn’t work, did it?” Jim asked him what they all thought.
“Not as well as we would have hoped. I have a credit note. Here…” He took a small piece of parchment from one of his pockets and passed it to Jim, declaring as he did what was scratched upon it: “Forty.”
Daniel was shocked. “Forty?” he exclaimed, “Is that all?”
“It was the best we could do,” Laydon apologised, but added, “You are able to pay the rent fee.”
It wasn’t enough. “But what are we going to eat?”
Jim watched Laydon’s face as Daniel grew more and more desperate. There appeared the smallest of smiles upon his face which slowly grew broader with each passing second. Jim shook his head.
“Very funny...”
Laydon was obviously pleased with his little rouse. Chuckling to himself he put a reassuring hand upon Daniel’s shoulder.
Jim sighed. “How much?” he asked the elder, “How much all together?”
“One hundred and ten - there was more but we needed to give some incentive to those selling for you, as we agreed.”
Daniel was already doing the math in his head and he quickly came to a conclusion, his face lined with concern. “It’s not enough,” he declared.
Jim turned his eyes upon Daniel again, a question forming on his lips.
“That’s enough for seven of us – not eight,” he elaborated.
Jim waved away his concern. “We can work this out later,” he said to them all. “The main thing is we’ve got through.”  He looked hopeful and turned to the lady of the house. “The elder will be joining us for lunch.”
She nodded. “I’ll put out an extra place.”

***

The pressure now relieved, Jim decided to stroll to Delvore’s estate sometime in the mid afternoon, taking Daniel with him. Lewis insisted accompanying them on the visit. The three departed while the sun was relatively high and there was still warmth in the air.
The guard at the gate was not expecting them but recognised them immediately. Jim smiled. In good spirits, his cheery disposition caught the guard off balance.
“Afternoon… How are you today? Is the boss in?”
The gate guard blinked for a moment and then visibly relaxed. “He’s not taking visitors,” he told them.
“That’s alright. This is just business. Perhaps we could talk to his manager.”
The guard, now disarmed by the visitor’s manners stepped over and unlatched the gate, swinging it wide into the yard. “Go up to the house,” he directed them, pointing up the road.
It took a longer time to reach the veranda this time. This time he strolled, taking in the grandeur of the old house and breathing in the fresh air as he walked.
The transaction took place rather quickly. They were admitted to the sitting room where they met the manager, who had stood at Delvore’s right at the last meeting. The credit note offered by Daniel was taken. They did not see Delvore that day, nor did they see Victoria. The house was quiet, the shades drawn over the entire top floor of the building. There was also a general air of dread and expectancy - this left the men disquieted as they departed, but their mood soon lifted as they reached their own farm at the opposite side of the village.

***

The following week the final amount of credits arrived and Jim happily handed the funds over to the mistress of the house as she was used to dealing with their distribution. The question of the shortfall was addressed after some careful consideration but then a more important issue was raised – Mitchell was sure the size of the farm would never support more than eight at the most and he was adamant that there would be more arriving from the Installation as time passed.
They sat at the table in the farm house, discussing the issue.
“We could get more supplies from down the stairs,” Lewis suggested.
Jim had considered that option. “That’s a limited resource. We will need to bring some up to get through this year but we can’t rely on that permanently.”
“What are our options then?” Emily asked.
Jim scratched his head, he wasn’t sure.
Sammy folded his arms over his chest, sitting back in his chair. “You talked about the land out on the plain. Why not start a new field out there?”
Mitchell shook his head. “Nothing grows out there now,” he explained. “I don’t think anything will grow out there. The ground is hard as rock. We’d have to get some machinery from the Installation to break the soil and we don’t know if any of that equipment will work. There is some land behind the tower that might be okay.”
He turned to Daniel. “Who owns the land down there?”
“No one does. It’s never been considered any good and it’s too far away from the village… And it’s too close to The Stairs.”
“The Installation and the land behind it would be an ideal base of operations,” Mitchell suggested.
“It’s an option,” Jim agreed. “Let’s look at that next time we go back. We should see if any of those vehicles will turn over as well. If we build a better bridge we could bring over a tractor or a truck. That would be very handy.”
“Both I think. You’d need to cart fuel for the tractor.”
“Right,” Jim announced, standing. “That’s it. Thanks everyone.”
“How about the ‘Sleepers’…?” Lewis asked suddenly.
“What?” Jim replied, blinking slowly at the suddenness of the question.
“The ‘Sleepers’ - as a name for us…?”
“Okay…” Jim said, nodding dismissively. “We’ll use that.”

***

The Sleepers settled into the tasks of preparing for the winter and buying the stocks needed from the markets set up in the village that appeared after the harvest time. Apparently Delvore (and the small group of other land owners in the district) took the crops from all the farms they owned and handled for a fee all of the complicated affairs that transpired after.
What could not be acquired from the village was listed and a plan made to recover those items from The Installation. Joanna had carefully planned the whole process and was confident that with some adjustments the eight of them could comfortably exist on the farm for the next year. 
The possibility that they would not be able to support any others that woke from sleep (and he believed there would be many more of those to come) bothered Jim somewhat. Mitchell was adamant that the farm plot was simply not large enough to support more than eight even with the inclusion of modern farming methods and fertilizer. Another location was paramount to the future plans of the group. Without the burden of rent for the land they used, they would be able to support many others. The question still remained where – and how. The area around the Installation the most likely candidate, and this would be assessed very soon.

***

The judge’s house was set away from the village high on a hill, with a commanding view of the countryside right down to the lake. It was smaller than Delvore’s estate but equally grand. The king’s representative in matters of law required an appropriate dwelling befitting his standing. 
He did not have many visitors. He kept this place as his sanctuary, preferring to do business in the village. This enabled him to keep a watchful eye upon the area. There was one exception to his rule: he had retained a useful and resourceful individual months earlier. This man was permitted to attend the house provided it was under the cover of darkness.
Tobias sat at his desk reading over reports from the city by the light of a single lamp. He was no longer dressed in the robes of his office - they lay neatly over a chair in the corner of his room. He wore only simple garments, preferring to live simply when not working. The knock on the window directly ahead of him made him look up from his letters, the window inky black from the night beyond.
He swung open the door that separated his study from the veranda into the night. He knew who it was. There he was at the end of the veranda half obscured by the shadows. Tobias made three steps in his direction till a hand emerged from the blackness, a signal halting his advance.
“I haven’t heard from you for several weeks,” the judge accused the shadowy figure.
“I told you that you wouldn’t if it all went to plan.”
“So it has… gone to plan?” Tobias asked him.
“Yes, Your Honour, it has.”
“You’ve seen the book?”
“Yes. It’s not very old. The writing I couldn’t read, but I copied a section for you to see – on the table there…” A finger pointed to the small table against the wall. A piece of parchment sat there waiting for the Judge to inspect. On its surface Tobias could see the marks that were the writings of the previous age. He read what his servant had copied, muttering as he did.
The voice came again from the end of the veranda: “Was it what you hoped – or perhaps what you’d hoped it wasn’t?”
“What I expected…” the Judge told him absently. Then he asked him, “The large dark man, he has it?”
“Yes, the one called ‘Sammy’. Do you want me to retrieve it?”
Tobias went suddenly cold. “No!” he gasped. “If the book is his then he has more power than you – or for that matter, he – realises. I’d rather he didn’t discover that for himself. I have another way to get it – less direct, but just as effective. Now,” he said, folding the parchment and hiding it away, “…what else?”
The report continued. “The young man called ‘Lewis’s has been spending some time with Lord Delvore’s daughter. They have managed to keep this a secret up till now.”
Tobias stroked his chin. “That could be useful.”
“Also, the harvest was not as devastating as first thought. I am not entirely sure of the details yet, but I believe they and some others, deceived our good lord. They did quite well in fact.”
Tobias’s eyes narrowed, he quickly began slotting these new pieces into the plan he had been forming.
The spy continued: “I get the impression they plan to abandon the farm. It looks as though they have bigger plans and the size of the plot is too small.”
“Our time is running short then. There is a little job I need done. Someone I want out of the way.”
“That is a very polite way of saying ‘killed’”.
The Judge appeared shocked. “Killed? How you get them out of the way is up to you – but ‘killed’ does have a nice, permanent sound to it. Now…” He stroked his chin again in thought. “…what do you tell his lordship?”
The spy’s voice betrayed amusement. “As you’re still paying me very well – I would say whatever you want me to.”

***

Later that week Jim had organised another expedition to the installation, this time to gather supplies that would enable them to survive the winter. Jim knew that this was only a temporary measure. The evening before the team departed there was some spirited discussion about the possible sites for the bigger farm. Mitchell agreed to scout the area near The Installation with the view to moving there. The list was finalised and they went to their beds early, in preparation for rising with the sun the following day.

Only three remained, Jim, Joanna and Thom. They stood and watched as the others pulled the cart toward the gate. Emily had not realised that Jim was absent from the labouring party.
“You’re not coming?” she asked him incredulously. 
“No. I think you can handle it. You’ve got the list.”
“I’m in charge?”
She was underestimating herself again. “You can handle it,” he told her encouragingly.
“They won’t do what I tell them.”
He shook his head. “Of course they will. They know you’re the boss – they’ll follow you.” He thought of something at the last minute. “Oh, you’d better take this…”
Jim pulled a red metallic band from a pocket in his utility pants and tossed it to a surprised Emily. She thanked him with a smile, turning her back on him, heading down to the gate.
Her hair had grown and now it was long enough to tie up behind her head, straight and brown. She had grown in herself as well, stronger and more confident. Jim was smiling as he watched her go. He knew she would be a good leader. She was strong but she was also kind. Jim was not kind – he knew what he wanted and demanded it. Yes, she would work out just fine.
Thom watched them go with a slight eagerness in his face. The cart was now through the gate and starting to move down the road to the right. He turned to Jim and voiced what was on his mind: “Are you sure you don’t want me to help them?”
“I’m sure,” Jim told him, starting to walk back to the house. “They’ve got enough there to do the job.”
“They’re going somewhere special, aren’t they? Don’t you trust me?” he asked, making Jim stop and quickly turn.
“It’s not that, mate. There are enough of them to do the job. I’m not going and neither is Joanna…”
The look of eagerness disappeared, replaced by a look of indifference. He shrugged and turned to walk away. Jim had the feeling that Thom had almost been caught out by something – caring too much.

***

Evening fell quickly that time of the year and it was getting cooler as the days progressed. The four had been gone twelve hours or so, and should have been at the Installation. The remaining three dined simply that night and Joanna retired early. Jim cleaned up and prepared for an early night, waiting for Thom to do the same, but he did not appear. The lone figure sat on the wall, as they were all oft to do, looking out over the field now empty. The moon had risen over the hills and cast a soft light over the landscape. Jim carefully walked over to the quiet man, being careful to not tread on the small rocks that were deposited randomly over the yard.
“Hey,” he called to the short man as he approached.
Thom did not turn around when he returned the greeting.
Jim sat and sniffed the cool, clear air. “Lovely night,” he remarked casually.
“That it is,” Thom agreed.
“Mind if I ask you something?” Jim enquired after some time of silence.
“No, of course not…”
“You like it here, right?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Good.” Jim smiled. “Because we’re going out of our way to make a place for you here,” he explained.
“Thank you.” He seemed grateful.
Thom seemed to be toying with asking a question and then finally got up the courage. “I need to ask you something.”
“Go ahead.”
“I need to go back to my family for a few days,” he explained. “My mother’s never been well and I have been away for a long time. I’ll only be gone a few days, five at most.”
Jim smiled, shaking his head. “You want to go home? You know you don’t need to ask. Take as long as you like. There’s not much happening here at the moment.”
Thom nodded decisively. “I’ll go tomorrow, at first light.”
“Well, I’m going to bed.” He stood to go. “Night…”
“Good night.”
Jim left him there on the wall, and he stayed there for some time. Finally Thom entered the shed, collapsed on his bed and fell into slumber. Jim was still awake and watching him through narrowed eyes until he too fell to sleep. 
The young man left after the sun had begun to emerge again - after collecting some supplies from the store with sanction from Joanna – and with him gone the remaining two on the farm spent time with each other. Jim learnt a great deal about these modern people over the next couple of days – and Joanna’s face lit up with wonder at the tales that Jim told her of his former life. They had become like a brother and sister, and Jim confided in her more than any other person save his wife.

***

The Delvore manor was quiet. Not a soul stirred through its halls. The workmen remained in their section of the estate lest they disturbed the solemn events that were transpiring. The family did not appear in the town that day, they waited in expectation for that dreadful moment they all knew would come, but were too afraid to discuss it amongst themselves.
The Judge entered the gate without being questioned, walking up the gentle slope to the house. The door was open and he was expected, admitted into the dark sitting room before being led up to the second story. The house was hushed. No servants worked. Only the sounds of muffled voices coming from the master bedroom could be heard. Tobias took a deep breath and nodded to the man standing guard, who opened the heavy wooden doors and permitted the Judge admittance to a room thick with grief.
The figure in the bed was drawn, gaunt, and grey. Once strong and energetic, this man now lay as a shadow of his former self. His breath came in shallow gasps, his chest barely rising from under the rich material draped over him. Only his eyes remained alive, alert with possibilities still. The pain that his body was experiencing kept his mind awake and aware.
There were others there, his wife by his side, her head in her hands, and Carl stood a little away from her, the corners of his mouth turned up in a slight smirk of triumph. And lastly in the corner where the shadows hid the clarity of his features, Ryan stood with his hands behind his back.
Tobias watched him first, ignoring all the others, waiting for the signal that would indicate the completion of the task. There it was: a slight nod. It was done. Reassured the Judge confidently glided to the opposite side of the bed from Delvore’s wife.
He looked down Delvore’s wasted form. “You called me, my friend?”
The voice came in a whisper, barely audible and Tobias needed to lean forward to hear.
“My friend,” Delvore gasped. “I called you here for one last favour.”
The Judge smiled reassuringly. “Of course,” he replied. “Name it.”
Delvore reached his hand out to where Ryan was standing, waving. “You remember my man, Ryan?”
Tobias made a show of looking him over. “Of course… Ryan.”
“He’s been watching those…” he coughed and was unable to describe what he thought of the newcomers. “He has told me things.”
The Judge looked speculatively at Ryan. “Things…?”
“They robbed me,” the master protested weakly, “…and I have been betrayed.” There was pain in his voice, not only from his body but from his soul as well. “Betrayed by my own flesh and blood…”
“What?” 
“My daughter,” he explained. “She has been seeing one of them… behind my back.” He started coughing again, continuing only after he had caught his breath. “You were right. She cannot…”
Carl stepped forward confidently. “She won’t,” he declared. “I will lead the family, father. I will regain our honour from these…” Like his father he could not find the words to describe the tall ones.
The judge looked shocked at the revelation. “What of Victoria?” he asked.
“It’s done,” Delvore croaked with finality. “Carl will lead and you must help him. They are a boil on my arse. This town must be rid of them.”
Tobias grasped the dying man’s hand. “We will be rid of them,” he promised. “Even now there is a plan working to that very end.  They will be gone before the sunset in three days. Give me Carl and your men – and I will do it.”
Delvore nodded and the effort of talking sapped him of his final strength. His eyes fluttered and he lapsed back into the bed, falling into sleep. Slowly the grip on the Judge’s hand relaxed and Tobias let it fall softly onto the master’s chest.
Tobias stepped back, knowing this audience had ended. He passed back into the hall quickly, trying to avoid the questions of the others. The door opened slightly and a slim figure squeezed through the gap. 
“We need to talk,” Ryan whispered urgently.
Tobias led him away from the door and down another seemingly deserted corridor.
“What is it?”
“A group of them left five days ago for the Stairs.”
Tobias’s eyes widened. “When are they due back?”
“Two more days… Also, there is something else: A red ring, like a band for an arm. They need it. I think it is a key, a key to get past the door.”
“How do you know about the door?” the Judge asked him.
He shrugged indifferently. “It’s my job to know.”
Tobias spoke then, almost to himself, “Now we have three aims. I need them out of the way, I need that key and I need that book.”
 
***

Jim had lapsed into unconsciousness briefly, the pain in his head and side taking its toll. When he awoke he was lying on the ground, his face hard against the dirt. Where was he? It was dark. There were feet directly in his view, booted and dirty. Laughter he heard, and other sounds: breaking wood. 
Steps. 
Someone was running towards him – the feet making small vibrations in the ground. 
Then a voice: “There is no sign of the woman.”
“And the other things?” another voice asked. Jim had heard that one before. Spitting and taunting. Carl. 
“No my lord, we couldn’t find them,” the first one declared.
There was silence for a moment punctuated by the sounds of destruction from some distance away, and then Carl spoke again: “Burn it to the ground.”
The feet ran away quickly and then there was an exultant yelp. Several minutes later there was the smell of burning and gradually louder, the crackle of flames.
Jim tried to sit up, managing to get up on one elbow to gaze upon the terrible sight. The house and the shed were engulfed in flames, quickly consumed in a fiery dance. 
He remembered the men coming into the yard, torches aloft. He remembered calling to Joanna, telling her to hide.
“Look, someone’s awake.”
There was laughter again, mocking laughter. Then he became aware of a figure in front of him. Jim looked up, trying to focus, his head throbbing with pain, his vision obscured by blood and dirt. Delvore’s son, Carl, stood above him, his mouth contorted into a cruel smile. He quickly swung his foot encased in hard leather into the side of Jim’s head – and suddenly oblivion pulled him down again.

Chapter Sixteen

Jim’s eyes snapped open. It was still dark. He turned his head, surveying his surroundings and realized he had been here before, with the others a few months ago. The water fell from above as gentle rain through the hole in the roof. Jim managed to get up onto this hands and knees and moved over to the wall and out of the drizzle. This time he had no trouble remembering.
Night had fallen over the farm, he and Joanna were out in the yard enjoying the cool evening. He had collected some stores from the shed and was transferring the items into the house when he first saw it - a line of lights only a short distance from the gate and closing slowly. The lights were bobbing gracefully, some twenty in total, and as they drew closer Jim could see they were torches in the hands of men.
They watched, mesmerized by the sight until the sound of the gate being opened caught their attention. The lights were coming for them.
“Go to the pit! Go now!” he hissed urgently, pushing her toward the shed.
Joanna bolted off into the dark leaving Jim to face an ever increasing group. He knew it was pointless speaking to them. They were here for one purpose. When the first of them came into striking distance, Jim took two steps forward and efficiently punched the man to the ground. 
The others surged forward hoping to quickly subdue him and were met with a flurry of fists and feet. When numbers succeeded in taking him to the ground, Jim had incapacitated five of them and they were in no state to rise to assist their brethren. Hauled to his feet, revenge was cruelly dealt until he hung between two of them with his head hanging down, blood running from his nose in long, bright drips. They let him fall face first, onto blood and dirt. 
He could hear instructions given and feet hurrying off to comply. He hoped he had given Joanna enough time to secrete herself in the pit Mitchell had dug a little over a month ago. He was hoping that the entrance would be undetectable in the dark. He was hoping that she would be safe. Then he closed his eyes and hoped that he would wake alive.
When he opened his eyes again, he could hear voices. 
“We couldn’t find the woman…”
Joanna? She had managed to evade detection. 
“…and the other things…?”
What other things? 
“Burn it to the ground.”
When the acrid smell of smoke filled his lungs he coughed uncontrollably and rolled over. Somehow, despite every part of him being in agony, he managed to get onto one elbow to see what was burning. The house was engulfed in flames and smoke poured from the shed. Looking up he saw a face he knew looking cruelly down. There was an intense pain in the side of his head, and then silence.

***

He had been hammering on the door for a long time before his father answered it, bleary eyed and tired from the night before. The old man regarded him for a time at the door step. He could see fear in his face.
“Joshua, what is it?” his father asked.
“There’s been a death!” Joshua exclaimed. “A murder… and your friends are involved.”
He was pulled into the house quickly and the door was shut behind. “What happened?” the old man demanded. 
“Yesterday afternoon Landsley found a body next to the lake. The man had been really done over, so much so they could barely recognize him. It turns out he was the one from your friend’s farm. A group from the watch came back into town carrying him. He’s in the watch house now. There was a fire out of town too, looks like they burnt down Daniel’s house.”
His father was already getting dressed as Joshua described the events, “Why didn’t you wake me?”
“You were so drunk last night I couldn’t get anything out of you,” the young man explained patiently and his father swore under his breath, continuing to get ready.
Moments later they were out the door and on the way to the watch house.
The guard at the door was under instruction to let no one in regardless of position. When Joshua in desperation drew out a bribe, they entered the sombre building, looking for the cell which held the body of their friend. The only access was through a small, barred window. His father stood on his toes to verify the occupant.
“I can’t see who it is,” he whispered.
Joshua looked back down the passage to the common room. “They won’t open it up,” he said.
“Wait!” his father said suddenly. “It’s Jim.”
“How can you tell?”
“I can see that jacket he wears, the one with the holes in the back.” Suddenly the old man’s eyes opened wide. “He’s alive!” he exclaimed.

***

Inside the small cell, the body that was slumped along the wall shifted slightly and moaned. The movement allowed the man’s head to roll so that his face became visible.
Laydon gasped. Jim!
“He’s alive!” he told his son. He called to the man in the cell, “Jim! Jim! Hey!”
Jim was lying against the wall with his head down. Slowly he looked up to the door in response to the calling. Laydon’s breath caught in his chest when he saw the state of his friend. 
Both his eyes were bruised, the left totally closed. His nose was likely to be broken and had obviously bled throughout the night. His right cheek was red and swollen. Jim was unable to stand, unable to move, he could only stare blankly at the door. When he did speak finally, his voice was soft and ragged – barely a whisper.
“Jo… anna…”
“They didn’t bring her here.” Laydon told him, looking to his son and his shaking head. “Where is she?” he asked desperately.
“Farm,” Jim coughed out, adding: “…the… pit.”
Joshua was listening near the window, standing next to his father. “What’s he saying?” the young man asked, pulling away and frowning.  “The pit…?”
Laydon wasn’t interested in specifics. He now knew where to start. “She’s at the farm. We’d better find her.”
Joshua was confused. “What about the fire?” he asked.
Laydon looked back into the cell at the injured man. “I don’t think she was in the fire. She was in the pit”. He called out to his battered friend. “We’re going to find her. We’ll be back.” When he looked in, Jim was beyond hearing, having lapsed into unconsciousness. We need Amelia, Laydon said to himself.
“Wait!” Joshua called back to him as he headed purposefully back to the common room. “If the dead man isn’t Jim, then who is it?”

***

Daylight had come over the farm when he awoke. The events of the night before had left him somewhat dazed and confused. When he sat up, he gazed on the desolation that was the result of the night’s activities. Both buildings were smoking shells. Everything that he owned was gone.
Slowly he stood, expecting some inordinate amount of pain from his beaten body. When he did so he found none. At first he was surprised as he looked over his body and found not a mark, not a scratch. Then he understood.
Without turning he addressed the man he fully expected to be standing behind him. “Hello Samuel.”
Samuel sighed. He was obviously disappointed that he could not surprise Jim again. “How did you know?” Samuel asked him, walking around and into view.
Jim grinned broadly. “I’m not that stupid,” he said. “I took a quite beating last night and now not there’s not a scratch on me.” As he said the words, their import stuck him. “Oh…” he groaned. “That’s going to hurt when I wake up.”
Samuel shook his head sadly. “How are things going, Jim?”
“You tell me. Here we are. You’ve got my attention… again.”
“Yes, I have,” Samuel agreed. “Things are moving along well you know. Now you’re ready for the next part.”
Jim regarded him sardonically. “I can hardly wait.”
Sarcasm being lost on Samuel, he continued, “This might seem like a setback but it isn’t.”
“Setback…?” Jim responded, looking at the charred remains of the life he had made there and snorted. “Of course not…”
“Everything here…” Samuel continued, “…and I mean everything, is leading toward the next part of the story. We’re sending you on, Jim. When you get there, you and every one of your friends will have something to do. Every one of you will have some part to play.”
“Is there any chance of you telling me what that might be?” Jim asked him, frowning at the return of the cryptic messages.
Samuel smiled and shook his head.
“I didn’t think so,” Jim muttered. “Go on then…”
“One last thing…” Samuel added, “…and this is very important: When things are at their blackest, remember you can always appeal to a higher power.”
Jim cocked an eyebrow, “A higher power - you mean, like God?”
“You’ll know what I mean when the time comes.” Samuel stared at him, distracted by something he could see on Jim’s face. He pointed. “Your nose is bleeding.”
Jim brought a hand up to his face and wiped under his nose. The hand came back into view red and dripping with fresh, red blood. He was not normally affected by the sight, but this time his vision became a dark tunnel. Gradually it narrowed until all of the light was gone and there was a sound in his ears like the rush of water.
***

The gate was ajar, almost off its hinges, swinging slightly in the morning breeze. Beyond it lay the yard and the remains of the two buildings which had sat upon it. Still smoking, they were mere shells, the mud bricks were all that remained. The wooden beams and the roof were now gone.
Laydon and Joshua stood back from the remains, looking but not speaking. The hope of finding Joanna was rapidly dwindling. “That’s it then,” Joshua sighed finally, shaking his head. “Where are the others?”
“I’m not sure,” Laydon said grimly. “Let’s still look about, remember he said ‘pit’. There must be a hole in the ground – probably covered. She could be in there.”
They scouted the area carefully but could find no sign of any pit and Laydon finally conceded defeat. “We’d better get back,” he said finally.
Joshua wasn’t listening to his father. He had turned his head, concentrating on something else. “Did you hear something?” he asked.
Craning to listen, the two turned in all directions, trying to hear any sign of the woman.
“Perhaps it was the wind?” suggested the elder.
Joshua held out his hand, staying his father from speaking. There was a pile of rubble, the remains of the shed, and he was concentrating on it.
Laydon’s son stood near the pile and called: “Hello? Joanna?”
The muffled reply was all he needed. “She’s here!” he exclaimed excitedly. “Help me!”
With some difficulty the two pulled the blackened wood from the pile exposing a sheet of hard wood beams, scarred in places but still intact. There was another muffled cry from underneath and with some effort the beams were pulled up and out of the way.
Indeed there was a pit, and there was Joanna, safe but scared. They leant down and pulled her out. Joanna immediately threw herself into Laydon’s arms with relief and sorrow, looking for security and consolation, sobbing quietly into his shoulder.

***

Sammy was feeling uneasy. This feeling had been building for the last four hours and was growing with every step they took. He was leaning against the back of the cart, moving it slowly across the rocky ground. 
He had rested when they reached the bridge, closed his eyes against the pounding heat above. Up till then he had felt nothing, but when he woke it was there. Now, as they neared the northern rim of the plain it was becoming almost unbearable.
Emily was up ahead, directing them, keeping them on track. She had taken command of the expedition six days ago and had kept them moving ever since. Now she was leading them home. They travelled west for a short time to utilize the gentler slope up into the hills, and the distance to the farm was shorter. The sun was majestically descending, casting long shadows over the land. Out of one of those shadows stepped two figures still some way off. Emily watched them for a time as they approached and then left the men labouring with the cart to meet the two when they were recognized as friends.
Emily’s face showed obvious shock when they caught her.
“What is it? What’s happened?” Sammy asked her, afraid of her answer.
Laydon, now standing next to Emily, answered: “We’re all in big trouble.”
Emily elaborated with her voice full of dread. “Thom’s dead,” she declared.
“What? Dead…?” Lewis’s face drained its colour.
“Murdered,” Laydon added. “They brought in a suspect last night and they’d beaten him senseless. It was Jim.”
Only Daniel had the presence of mind to speak at that point. “My mother…?”
The elder laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. “She’s safe,” he reassured him. “She’s on my farm. I think they want her too – and all of you as well.”
Emily’s jaw was set with determination. “We’ve got to help him. Has he been hurt badly?”
Laydon nodded regretfully.
Sammy watched Emily’s face as she thought through what should be done. She put both hands up to her head and walked away a distance to think. She returned after a few minutes with instructions.
“We could bust him out…” she suggested firstly, “…but I don’t think that would be a good idea. The best thing we can do is stand with him. I mean, we didn’t do it, so we should have nothing to worry about, right?”
Laydon’s face suggested that may not be necessarily true. “You can’t be suggesting…”
“He’s our friend. We’re not leaving him to them.”
“Is that what he’d want – you risking yourselves… no, sacrificing yourselves for him? I don’t think so.”
She stood her ground. “It doesn’t matter what he wants. He put me in charge and I’m going to make the decision.” She took a deep breath and outlined her plans. “We were going to move back to The Installation anyway but now we’re going to do it a little sooner. Ok, this is what we’ll do…”
She turned to the young officer. “Mitch, you go back and start setting things up. Take Joanna with you. She’ll be safer there with you. You’ve got guns and supplies, you can lock yourselves in. The rest of us will go and find out what all this is about.” She turned to the elder, asking: “Could you get Joanna back here?” 
“I’ll get her,” offered Laydon’s son, Joshua, who had come with him to meet them. Emily didn’t have a chance to thank him as he was already heading back up the hill toward the farm.
“When he gets back we’ll go to see Jim,” she said decisively.
The day was ending. Laydon had another suggestion, “I think you should wait until daylight. There will be witnesses then. You don’t want to end up in the same state as your friend.”
“I like that idea,” Sammy agreed earnestly. “I vote for the daylight.”
Emily didn’t look at him. “There’s no voting,” she commented absently.  “But you do have a good point,” she said finally to the elder.
“I’ll send Joshua to Boyes. He’ll see that Jim is treated right. Then in the morning we’ll all go.”
“You should take one of the guns,” Mitchell suggested.
“No…” She shook her head, “I’m not giving them something they could use against us. It won’t help anyway.”
She nodded, looking up at the darkening sky. “All right… the day’s ending and there’ll be no light in an hour, so we’d better set up camp.”

Joanna arrived some time after dark as Joshua did not want to move her until there was no chance she would be seen. She had recovered her composure by that time but was still shaken by the events of the previous night. Emily assured her she would be safe from here on. She would be taken across the plain first thing in the morning by Mitchell and accommodated at the Installation. She had seen far too many things to be concerned about long past superstitions about ‘The Stairs’. 
They dared not light a fire in case it drew attention to their presence – after all, they were all wanted for murder. After a cold supper Joshua left again, disappearing into the night to talk to Boyes about Jim’s condition in the cells.
Sammy took the first watch and waited for the others to fall asleep before gently waking the elder to make a request. The book he had taken from the Installation months ago was in his hand.
“Sammy?” Laydon rubbed his eyes sleepily. “What is it?”
“Sorry for waking you, my friend. Could I ask a favour?”
The elder sat up from his blanket bed. “Yes, of course. What is it?”
Sammy held out the book for Laydon to take, and the elder looked down at it with confusion. Sammy explained, “Could you hold on to this for me? Just for a while. I’m going to take a trip soon.”
“What is it?”
Sammy frowned. “It’s a book.”
The book was put into Laydon’s bag. “Joshua will take it back to the house in the morning. I’ll look after it for you.”

At first light Joanna and Mitchell headed out onto the plain, heading for the Installation. Mitchell planned to strike out southward for an hour or so and then to the east until he reached the tracks of the cart that was travelling north the previous day. He would follow these back to the bridge and then onwards to the hill and the tower.
After packing up their camp and hiding the cart, the remainder of the group headed up the hill into the farming district. Passing what was left of Daniel’s family farm the group saw for the first time the enormity of the event that occurred two nights ago. Joshua met them at the gate, travelling with them until they reached the outskirts of the town, then he took his father’s bag and headed off to the elder’s farm. Emily had handed him the red band to take as well. She had no intention of the key falling into the wrong hands.
The town was just coming to life when the elder escorted the remaining four of the group up to the watch house. Those that were up and about at that hour stared in shock, expecting them to have been long gone considering what was ahead of them. 
More shocked were the guards at the watch-house however, confronted by Laydon and the four behind him. The guard wordlessly opened the door and permitted them entrance to the main room, knowing that he was allowing in the very ones they had been searching for. The captain stood abruptly, not expecting the arrival of the fugitives.
The four fanned out behind the elder and stood defiantly, waiting for either Laydon or the captain to speak.
They did not have to wait long. It was the elder that started. “We have come to see the prisoner,” he announced evenly.
“These are the fugitives,” the Captain stated flatly.
“I understand you have been looking for them, but we’ll see the prisoner first. Then we’ll discuss the matter at hand.”
Clearly the Captain was not going to agree so quickly. He had been counting… “There are two missing,” he announced, “another tall one and the woman, Joanna.”
Laydon frowned. “We don’t know where they are at the moment. Now… the prisoner, please…”
The captain did not move. He seemed to be thinking of the best course of action and finally he decided. “Go to the house…,” he commanded to one of the guards, “…tell the boss we’ve got more of them.” The young man rushed out the door leaving his captain and three others facing the group of five. 
Laydon stepped forward to drive home his wishes. “We will see the prisoner, now.”
The captain sought to delay the elder, hoping to keep them occupied until his superior arrived. Laydon started to look incensed. “Don’t make me ask you again,” he warned the officer. His voice was quiet and ominous. The captain finally realized that he had run out of time. He nodded to the guard by the gated doorway at the other end of the room. Once opened, the group went through and into the dimly lit corridor. This was familiar to Lewis and Sammy, having spent the night here a few months earlier.
Emily strode ahead calling into every cell: “Jim! Jim!”
The response was muffled and weak and it took a few calls to pinpoint where the reply originated. The door was locked and only a small, barred window offered a view of the contents of the cell. Emily peered inside and she drew a quick breath. For the first time that Sammy knew, he heard her swear.
“Jim, look at me… Are you all right?” she asked, almost crying. “Hang in there, we’re coming.” She stepped from the window and turned to the grim faced elder. “Someone’s going to pay for that,” she promised him, “Someone’s going to pay.”

Carl was waiting for them when they re-entered the guard room. He was sitting on the table, his arms folded over his chest and a smirk was on his face. Emily stared him down, walking right over, ready to fight. They knew him - he was the one that had insulted Emily. Jim sat in the cell, battered and bruised, probably because of this young man.
“Let him go,” she demanded, red-faced. “He needs a doctor.”
Carl kept his smirk firmly where it was. “He is not going anywhere…” he told her casually, “…and neither are you.”
“We’ve done nothing wrong,” she protested.
“That’s for the Judge to decide. Until then you stay here… as my guests.”
She stepped forward as she spat her words. “Is that how things are here? You bring people in you think have done something wrong and then nearly kill them? Do you beat all your suspects?”
Carl shrugged. He seemed indifferent to Jim’s predicament. “That was his decision. We didn’t choose to beat him. He resisted arrest.”
Emily stood back. “How convenient for you,” she said sarcastically, her voice as cold as ice.
“This is starting to bore me,” Carl said to his Captain. “Lock them up.” He looked straight at Emily. “Put her in a separate cell.”
The elder was pulled back by one of the militia and he watched helplessly as the other two advanced on his friends. Lewis and Sammy had no desire to resist the advancing guards – not wishing to receive the same treatment as Jim. Holding their hands up and in front signifying compliance, they were directed back into the corridor and up to the cell Jim was occupying. The guard in the lead opened the door. Emily made an attempt to enter but was blocked, only one of the three men was allowed to enter.
“It’s all right. I’ll go,” Sammy offered, knowing he was in many ways better qualified to help Jim. The door closed behind him and he was once again a prisoner in this new land.

Jim woke to Sammy’s smiling face and he managed to return a weak smile. Sammy looked his friend over quickly, trying to judge how injured he was. Some problems were obvious: his nose was clearly broken and misshapen - he may have had sustained a fracture in his cheek. The cuts and abrasions to his face were minor, unlike some of the previous cuts he had received. The blood on his face and shirt were from his nose which was no longer bleeding. The blood in his hair was likely to be from the same source so he had no major cuts that needed stitches. Moving Jim’s arms and legs drew some painful response, but not to the extent that led Sammy to believe any of the limbs were broken. 
The bruises under his shirt were like a large red and purple mosaic. He had been kicked here and there several times and this area had borne the brunt of the attack. Probing gently on the ribs generated a sharp sucking in of air from the patient. Sammy suspected that there were broken ribs, but as he was breathing well he discounted a deeper injury.
Reaching for the jug of water by the door, Sammy poured some into a pottery mug and poured a little into Jim’s mouth, causing a coughing spasm. Some of the water went down, some ran down his front. Sammy cleaned his face and neck as best he could then helped the injured man onto the low bed at the other end of the small cell, laying him down.
A voice called from down the hall, from another cell. “Sammy!” It was Emily. “Can you hear me?”
Sammy struggled to his feet and he put his head to the window on the cell door, “Yes. I can,” he called back.
“How is he?”
“He’s been beaten badly but I think he’ll be okay. He won’t be doing any more modelling with the new nose they gave him. What do we do now?”
“We wait.”
There was nothing else they could do.

***

Tobias was not in a good mood when he entered the guard house that morning. He had set his plans in motion only to find that they had been thwarted, at least to some extent. There was still a chance that both the book and the red metal band were with the captives. He burst through the door and confronted Carl immediately.
“Did you find anything on them?”
Carl was caught off guard, “Um,” he stammered. “…we haven’t exactly looked yet.”
The Judge glared at him darkly. “Go look.”
The search took a short time and the guards came back empty handed. “They’re not carrying the things you want,” Carl told him, ashamed that he had forgotten something so important.
The Judge closed his eyes in frustration. Not at the farm, not with these four. Perhaps they were with the ones that are yet to be caught. “What about the other two…?” Tobias asked him.
“We don’t have them yet, but we’re looking.”
He nodded toward the direction of the cells. “Do the ones in your cells know where they are?” he enquired.
“They don’t know. We asked.”
“Bring them out,” the Judge commanded forebodingly. “I’ll ask them.”

***

Laydon hurried down the road from the watch house, through the gathering crowds to the house of Boyes which was located on the southern end of the town. He rapped on the door and was admitted into the house by Amelia, Boyes’s wife.
“I hear they caught four more of them,” she said, closing the door behind him.
“I brought them in,” he replied angrily. He had seen the error in Emily’s decision straight away, but as she said: she was in charge. After their meeting with Carl that morning, he was adamant that it had been a bad move to face the problem head on. “Is your husband up?” he asked her, standing by the fire.
“He is. We’ve heard all the commotion. He’s been expecting you.”
Boyes entered from the side room, dressed and ready for action in his elder’s robes. Laydon was not able to get his - he had been on the move, spending the night at the makeshift camp on the edge of the plain. Regardless, he was no less imposing without them. His features spoke of urgency, of concern but also of anger – this combination made him a formidable opponent.
“What’s happening?” Boyes asked him as he pulled on his short leather boots.
“Jim was injured. Carl Delvore says it happened when he resisted.”
“Do you believe him?”
“I never have. I brought the others in so that they wouldn’t get the same treatment. The judge was arriving as I was coming here so we’d better get up there.”
Boyes had his last boot on. “They wouldn’t let me in last night but I let the Captain know that the community was watching very closely how he is treated,” he explained. “Right…” he said, standing. “I’m ready.”
Amelia’s ears pricked up when Laydon mentioned Jim had been hurt. “Do you need me?” she asked both of them.
Boyes shook his head. “You had better stay out of this, dear. This is dangerous business. There is one man dead already and one almost dead, I think.”
“Then you will need me.”
“Probably, but I still think you should stay here.”
“What sort of healer would I be if I let this man die?” she asked him pointedly.
He looked at her evenly. “You deliver babies.”
Laydon knew that his friend had said the wrong thing the moment the words had left his lips. She drew herself up almost immediately and Laydon suspected a fight was imminent. She looked at her husband with displeasure, speaking finally in an icy voice: “I’ll get my bag.”
“Fine,” Boyes sighed with resignation. “We’ll wait then.” 

***

The door to the cell that Lewis shared with Daniel swung open abruptly and the two guards standing beyond waved them out. Lewis was still unsure of what happens in such instances. He didn’t realize that being extracted from a cell did not necessarily equate to freedom - prisoners were rarely interrogated in their cells. Daniel went first, followed by Lewis quickly trying to keep up. Ahead were two figures, one being supported by the other – obviously Jim was up and about – just. Passing through the gate he entered the guard’s room, now filled with people he did not know. The chair behind the table was occupied. A robed man sat there, his face cold but his eyes almost glowing red with seething anger. 
Jim stood unsteadily, supported by the large frame of Sammy. Daniel stood apprehensively next to them, and then Emily.
The robed figure stood. His hands were on his hips as he regarded the line slowly – spending a short time on each of them. Lewis could sense Sammy holding his breath when the man’s gaze fell upon him. They stayed there for almost a minute then finally fell upon Emily and her muttering abruptly ceased. Taking in a deep breath, he spoke, his voice like the hiss of a snake.
“You people are in a lot of trouble. One of you is going to tell me why there was a body found by the lake two days ago – a man who worked for you. One of you is going to tell me where the rest of you are hiding. I will have the truth from you.”
Even though it was spoken in anger, it was unmistakable. Lewis had heard that voice before. He had heard it in a dream congratulating him. There had been blood - on his hands and on the floor. There had been a body, bleeding.

Chapter Seventeen 

Emily had not met this man before, but she did know Carl. This man that looked them over angrily seemed to be in charge. He seemed to have even more power than their landlord’s son. He wanted answers and the problem that faced Emily at that point was what ones to give him.
“You already know that the man who had been working with you has been found dead,” he said. “He was attacked. We don’t like that sort of thing happening here.” His eyes stared at them intensely. “This is deadly serious. So serious that it is a capital offence. Do you understand me?”
They all nodded, save Jim who was barely able to stand. Sammy held him tightly under his left arm.
He continued: “The evidence against you is substantial so you are going to need every bit of help you can get. Now, if you will help us, I may be able to help you. Tell me, where are your friends?”
Emily had assumed command again as Jim was in no fit state to represent them. Although she was shaking inside she stood her ground and spoke slowly and clearly.
“We don’t know,” she told him, hoping that the slight waver in her voice was not audible – if it was then they were all sunk.
“You don’t know?” He raised his eyebrows speculatively. “I’m not so sure about that. I think you do know. I think you know full well where they are. Protecting them is commendable but foolish. It will go worse for you if you continue to lie to us.”
She decided she would tell him nothing, returning his gaze with a hard, defiant look. “This is all a waste of time. I told you we don’t know where they are.”
He spread his robes out behind him, sat down and started looking through the notes and letters that were arrayed upon the desk. Emily could make no sense of the writing on the sheets. She knew how to speak the local language but had never seen it written down. After perusing the document he finally located, he looked up and smiled. Not a happy or comforting smile. The smile found on the face of a hunter who had cornered his prey.
“The fact is we do know where they are,” he purred. “We’ve already sent some men to get them. Unfortunately your refusal to co-operate will work against you.”
Emily stared back and in that moment she knew he was not lying. He did know where Mitchell and Joanna were going and he probably knew all along. But he would be too late. The party he sent would never catch them on foot. Her friends had a good half day’s head start and that would be more than enough. Regardless she could do nothing now, the four of them were caught and all that there was left was defiance.
“You’ll never catch them,” she told him quietly, her expression unchanging, “they’re gone… gone where you can never get them. You can do what you want with us – but they are out of your reach.”
He frowned, but his expression did not last long. He was thinking, and as he did a realization came to him and his wicked smile returned.
“You’re probably right,” he conceded, “regardless you all will need to defend yourselves in my court. I assume you are the leader.” He was looking directly at Emily.
Her eyes briefly moved to where Jim half stood and then back to the one who had been addressing her. She stood taller and spoke again confidently, “I am.”
“Another judge will arrive soon, and then we will try your case. If you are innocent of these charges then we will determine it, but if not…”
He left the statement hanging in the air as a kind of threat, one that Emily felt disinclined to answer. Lewis on the other hand spoke against it.
“Of course we are innocent,” he declared stridently, the fear evident in his voice. “We had nothing to do with what happened to Thom. He was our friend!”
Emily placed a hand on his shoulder, a restraining hand, and he closed his mouth. The judge did not react, he had obviously brought them out to assess their resilience, and now he seemed confident he knew their strengths and weaknesses.
“We shall see,” he said, smiling as he spoke. “We shall see.”

***

Laydon and Boyes were too late to interject. Only the guards remained when they arrived, barging through the doors. The captain knew there was trouble immediately. 
He spoke to his second quietly through the side of his mouth, “Get the boss.”
“We’re here to see that the accused are treated properly,” Laydon told him. Boyes stood behind offering his support, staring darkly at the officer.
“I can assure you, they are.”
“Really…” Boyes interjected, “what about the injured one? He didn’t look too well to me.”
“We are aware of his state.” The captain look almost embarrassed. “He’ll get help, I assure you.”
“He will get help because I am about to help him.” Boyes called for Amelia, who had been standing just outside the door, ready and with her bag. “You all know my wife…” he said when she answered his call, “…she is to be treated well or there will be trouble from me. Understand?”
When the captain and the guard indicated they did, the elder gave directions. “You…” he said to one of the militia that stood by the gate to the cells, “…show my wife the injured prisoner.”

***

The cell was not strictly made for two. There was only one bed. If two prisoners were interned here, then one could sleep relatively comfortably and the other not, stretched out on the cold, hard stone floor. So Sammy lay, listening to the noises emanating from the sleeping man on the bed above him. He was doing the best he could, but was no doctor. Jim needed a doctor and a hospital – not a gaoler, not a gaol.
His musings were interrupted by raised voices down the corridor. Had they caught Mitch and Joanna? The shouting had stopped. Now he could hear the manipulation of the lock to his cell. It swung open admitting a short woman he had only seen twice before. She was the wife of the elder, Boyes, and she carried a large, black bag.
Sammy sat up and regarded her with surprise. She was not what he had expected. The door shut behind her with a resounding clang. Looking back momentarily, she fixed her gaze upon Jim.
Wordlessly she moved to his side and touched him – lightly on the forehead at first, then to his wrist, dropping her bag at the end of the bed.
“Can I help you?” Sammy asked, taken aback by her approach.
She didn’t look up when she answered him. “I doubt it.”
“I know you.”
“I need to concentrate, so shoosh.”
Shoosh? Sammy had questions. “But…” 
 “You do understand what shoosh means, don’t you?” She waved him away, issuing her orders: “Keep quiet and keep out of the way.”
Now given the necessary peace to work, the woman went on with her examination – listening to his chest and his breathing, nodding with concern on her face. The light shone from the open hole in the roof down on Jim’s face, now blocked by the woman who looked down over him, gently lifting his eyelids, looking in his nose and ears.
Jim stirred and moaned when her probing fingers found the bruised side and she nodded. “Your friend has some broken ribs,” she noted.
Sammy took a step forward when he saw Jim was in pain. “I thought as much.”
Now she looked over her shoulder and spoke to him directly, asking, “How long has he been like this – not awake, not talking?”
Sammy cocked an eyebrow quizzically. “So, I can speak now?”
Her look of concern changed to one of annoyance, “I graciously extend my permission,” she said sarcastically and then asked her question again, this time urgently. “How long…?”
“I’m not sure…” And he wasn’t. Jim had been here all alone for one whole night and part of the next morning. He told her just that.
She looked back at her patient. “He has a head injury,” she declared. “His eyes look fine so I don’t think his brain is bleeding but it is a little early to tell for sure. He should start waking up soon.”
These simple people frequently surprised him. “You’re a doctor?” he asked her.
The question amused her slightly and she offered a small smile. “My profession has not been called that for some time, but yes – I suppose I am.”
He was grateful then for her help and told her so.
She frowned, concentrating on the man in her care. “He’s in some pain…” she noted, watching Jim’s face contort at times, then she muttered something to herself.  Rummaging through her bag she pulled out a small, red cloth pouch – removing a few small pieces of dark brown bark and held it out for Sammy to take. “This will help.”
“What do I do?”
“Soak it in some water – and then make him drink it,” she explained, closing her bag and gathering it up. Standing up she regarded Sammy carefully.
“I need you to watch him. His breathing and his heart are alright but if he breathes slower then call for me and if his heart beats faster then call for me. Do you understand?”
“Call for you,” he said, nodding. “I got it.”
She hadn’t finished. “He needs to drink – regularly – little sips. I’ll be back to look at him tonight – unless you…”
“Call for you.” Sammy interjected, completing her sentence, repeating what he had said before.
“Good. I’ll see you tonight,” she promised, moving to the door.
“Doctor…?” Sammy called to her retreating back. “Sorry… your name…?”
She turned and smiled. The angst she had shown on her arrival had vanished now that she had seen Jim was safe for the time being. “Amelia.”
“I’m Sammy. This is Jim.”
“I will see you tonight, Sammy.”
She knocked on the door, it opened and she was gone. Sammy stood for minutes, staring at the space she had vacated, and then he went back to the injured man. “It’s going to be okay, Jim,” he told his friend. “It’s going to be okay.”

***

Carl Delvore had arrived while Amelia was seeing Jim in the cell. There was a heated argument in progress between the elders and Carl when she returned to the guard room. Amelia went to her husband’s side.
“You’ve overstepped your authority, Carl,” Laydon was saying. “You’ve no right to enforce this.”
Carl was shaking his head. “The judge has authorized it, not me. I’m simply enforcing his order. Take it up with him, if you want.”
Laydon was incensed. “You can be sure I will,” he promised.
“My wife will be seeing the injured man,” her husband added. “She will not be denied access – I insist on it. You will not be able to try a dead man, will you?”
“And I will have something to say about his treatment,” she fumed. “This man has been seriously injured. He could die. Who did this to him?”
Carl shrugged indifferently, informing her of the details of the incident. “My men did what was necessary to bring him in. He is a dangerous man. Do you know he injured five of my men during his arrest? Treat him by all means, but I will hear no more if this. Are we finished?” Carl did not wait for a reply, he gathered up his coat and left abruptly, slamming the door.
She turned to the worried captain. Perhaps he thought she was going to direct some of her ire his way, but she did not speak harshly – only directly. “There is another man with the injured one. I have given him strict instructions to call for me if the patient’s condition worsens. If he calls for me then I am to be informed immediately. Is that clear?”
The captain nodded, happy not to be her next target.
Outside the watch house and away from the guards, the three stopped. There were plans to be made.
“How are the others?” Laydon asked. She was the last one to have seen them since they had been thrown into the cells that morning.
Her expression was grim. “They’re fine considering their position. We’ll need to organize better food for them and some blankets. It was cold last night and I don’t think Jim can stand another night without a blanket.”
“I’ll handle that,” Laydon offered.
Amelia looked at him with slight confusion. “Really…? How…?”
“I’ll ask my sister.”
Boyes raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. “Are you two talking now?” he asked his friend.
Laydon made a face. “Maybe… She knows Daniel and so I think she’ll help. Anyway you two will have your hands full. I can do this, really.”
Boyes looked up at the sky, trying to judge the time. “Well, we can’t do any more here,” he declared. “We’d better get onto things…”
They left for their respective tasks: Laydon to his sisters to ask for help, Boyes to plan a defence and Amelia back to her house. They knew the next two weeks would be difficult – unfortunately they had no idea how much.

***

Amelia’s attention was held to the slow rise and fall of her patient’s chest – and the gentle noises emanating therein. She did not hear the quiet calls for attention coming from above. Sammy heard them first; he lifted his head slowly upwards, gazing up into the night sky. There was a face framed by the opening, a face they both knew very well.
“What…?” Sammy began.
His query drew Amelia’s attention from her work, causing her to follow Sammy’s eyes upward, seeing the face that looked upon them.
“Victoria, what are you doing?”
She spoke in a forced whisper, not wishing to alert the guards to her presence. “I’m looking for Lewis,” she explained.
Sammy pointed to the wall where another cell was located behind. “A door down, I think,” he advised her.
Amelia looked up at her crossly, “You had better get off the roof before you fall.”
“I’ll be okay.”
Sammy noted that of late Lewis’s friend had been adopting some of the young man’s speech. “You should know that my father is dying and Carl will take over. This won’t be good for anyone. I have to go, I don’t have much time. I’ll be missed.”
And she was gone – the night swallowed the space that she had occupied. Sammy was the first to look back down – his attention drawn to a shiny red object hanging from around the Amelia’s neck, a necklace made of metal in the shape of a flame rising upward. When her gaze returned to Sammy she found him staring. She smiled and went back to work on her patient.
Sammy interrupted her examination. “I’m sorry to bother you but, that necklace, what is it?”
She looked up, startled. She seemed not to know it was on display. Grasping it quickly she pushed it down the opening in the top of her dress and down between her breasts.
“Nothing,” she told him, her manner becoming abrupt. “Your friend is the same. I will see him again in the morning. Keep him warm. Call me if there is any change – like I told you.”
She was up, knocking and gone before Sammy could even reply.

***

Tobias had sent word to Mharae, some eighty clicks distant and over the mountains. He was expecting another from the Judiciary to arrive sometime in the next two weeks. He had kept his involvement in the prisoners at a minimum, choosing instead to allow Carl to dictate their treatment, having told Laydon and Boyes that the young Delvore was wholly responsible for them. 
Tobias was also waiting on news from the Delvore estate of the inevitable death of the master and it came that evening. The judge’s servant knocked respectfully on the bedroom door, rousing him from sleep.
Tobias dressed quickly, and hurriedly walked to the estate. He was admitted immediately at the gate and at the door, climbing the steps two at a time to the upper storey. It was dark in the house that night. Few candles were lit, casting a dim glow over the hallway.
As he reached for the handle to the bedroom a voice sounded from the end of the hall - the owner’s presence hidden by the gloom. “You’re too late, Your Honour.”
Tobias sighed. The old man had passed on, leaving young Carl in charge of the small empire. It was how the judge had wanted it, how he had planned it. Now that it was achieved, Tobias couldn’t help thinking that perhaps he had made the wrong choice. It was done now and all that was left to do was to address the new lord of the estate. “Congratulations, Master Delvore,” Tobias offered as sincerely as he could manage.
Carl walked slowly out of the shadows toward the Judge, the slightest smirk evident on his face. He passed Tobias, turning left and descending the stairs. The judge stood and watched him go down to the ground floor, slightly irritated that he was being ignored. Two steps before the bottom the new master spoke - elevating himself beyond what was his right: “Lord Delvore.”

Tobias had spent almost an hour there with the widow. Victoria stood to the side watching with obvious pain on her face. He was not sure that she was distressed from being disinherited or from grief itself. She had been crying, her eyes were red and swollen from tears. Tobias made his final condolences and discreetly exited, hoping to be back in bed inside the hour but was interrupted as he was about to start down the stairs.
“I know it was you.” A soft female voice came from behind him.
He turned and faced her, the woman he had arranged to be cut off from her birthright. “I beg your pardon.”
“It was you that turned me against my father,” she accused him.
“Actually,” he said slyly, “it was you who chose to be involved with them.”
She seemed to be almost pleading for them. Tobias knew she was pleading for the young man she loved and for herself as well. “They aren’t who you think they are,” she informed him. “It doesn’t matter anyway - you have them in a corner.”
The judge sought to shift blame again – back to Carl. “It’s your brother, not me, who has them.”
“You have the power of life and death over them, not my brother. He’ll do as you say, but I think you’ll find he is as cruel and unpredictable as he is strong and decisive. You think you can control him as you did my father? I hope for all our sakes, you can.”

***

Avolio was in a poor mood that day, indeed his disposition had been worsening from the moment he arrived at Mharae four days earlier. He had been travelling back to the city from the southern towns when he rode into the Chief Justice’s house one afternoon. Zacharie, his superior, had received a message from Tobias in the east, in the Hylands. He needed assistance, the message read, to try a party for murder.
The Chief Justice was unable to send any of his people and faced a quandary. Then in rode Avolio. When he was told of his mission, the judge was less than impressed.
“I have business in Mharum that can’t wait,” Avolio protested.
Not exactly business... 
He had been away three months completing his circuit as they were all required to do. The south-lands were largely lawless, being run by the local landlords as they saw fit. The Judiciary were committed to provide some semblance of justice, but that meant the judges themselves had to travel down there once a year in turn. Avolio had just done his duty and was returning home and none-too-soon.
He had been estranged most of this last year from his wife and she no longer seemed to care whether he was in her life or out. There were rumours too. She had been frequently seen these last six months with one of his colleagues, Spelg. He seemed unable to know how to broach it - indeed how to speak to her at all - and he could feel her slipping away with every passing day. It had not always been that way.
Now he was away from his wife and felt sure Spelg would be trying to fill his gap, trying to comfort his deserted wife. He would have to do something about this interloper. Not now, later… an accident perhaps.
“I have no one else to send,” Zacharie explained patiently. “You know I can insist. I’d rather you just agree and smile, happy to do your duty.”
“What have I been doing these last three months if not my duty?” Avolio pointed out. “Please don’t ask me this…”
The Chief Justice looked at him evenly, still smiling, and Avolio knew he had no choice but to back down. Very well, he told himself. If I have to do this then I’ll get it over with as quickly as possible.
“Alright,” he said to the Chief Justice, the semblance of a smile forming on his lips. “But you owe me for this. Where is it?”
Zacharie told him, and Avolio defamed a long forgotten deity quietly to himself. “You know I’m not exactly welcome there?”

He travelled alone, not dressed as a member of the Judiciary. His sword was at his side and he knew how to use it too. Ten years in the military had given him more than the usual amount of skill in fighting. He had not had many opportunities to practice his abilities in the Judiciary, parrying with words had been more the skills he used. It was on trips such as these that he hoped he would be able to loosen the gleaming steel to dispatch the odd overconfident bandit. But not on this journey it seemed.
Grumbling under his breath at the inconvenience of it all, he rode over to his fellow judge’s abode and was granted entrance after swearing profusely at the servant who answered the door.
Finding Tobias in his study, Avolio barged in and sat right down in the first available chair. Tobias’ face showed a brief glimpse of disappointment. It was gone quickly.
“Make yourself at home, Avolio.”
“This is dammed inconvenient, Tobias. I have things on at home.”
“I’m sorry to drag you away,” his colleague apologized without any attempt at sincerity. “I hope this will be over quickly.”
“I hope so too,” grumbled Avolio. “Alright, what have you got?”
“A murdered man…” Tobias sat back in his chair, a self satisfied smile on his lips.
“That’s what I heard.”
“This should be a speedy decision. The facts are conclusive.”
Avolio narrowed his eyes. This was unusual. “Why isn’t this being done in the central court?”
“I want this over with quickly.” Tobias was smiling knowingly. “There are local issues that come into play here.”
“Like what?”
Tobias seemed to be considering his answer carefully. “They are foreigners who have been actively destabilizing the region. It was my hope that their poison could be isolated here – and end here. Unfortunately, there are still two of the perpetrators at large.”
Avolio raised an eyebrow. There had been no trial yet. “Accused, don’t you mean?”
“Accused… of course,” Tobias said with a smile. “I know where they are and they can’t get back here without me knowing about it. Don’t worry,” he smiled again confidently, “Justice will be served on them as well… eventually.”
“Well, you are probably right doing things this way,” Avolio conceded, but deep down he was not completely convinced. Was there something else? Why was Tobias trying to get this over quickly? “This is a legitimate charge, I hope,” Avolio asked pointedly. He had known of times past when those of his profession had manipulated trials for their own ends, and those of their sponsors.
“Oh, yes. We have a body and everything.”
Avolio nodded. “When do we start?”
“Whenever you’re ready, I’m all set to go. Only, there is one more thing…”
“Yes?”
“There is likely to be some interference from the local elders.”
Avolio frowned. He should have known he wouldn’t have been able to get through this without complications.
Tobias continued, explaining: “This could sway your decision unfairly. I am hoping to hold the inquisition during the night. Keep it secret. The sentence can be carried out quickly before things get difficult. Then you can be on your way…” he added with a smile, “…to save your wife from Spelg.”
Avolio’s face darkened. “You’ve heard about that?”
“Everyone has heard about it.”
Leaving the study for a room prepared for him, Avolio offered some interesting suggestions regarding Spelg’s parentage. He would have this issue dealt with quickly – and then go home to deal with the jackass that was interfering with his marriage. The world knew about his troubles. So, now the world would know that no one messed with Avolio and was not punished.

***

The night finally came, its dark blanket covering the land once again. Victoria had been waiting, watching from her window on the top floor of the estate house. She was waiting for the darkness to hide her and her nocturnal activities. The noises from the meeting on the ground floor carried up to her door, audible through the hallways of the house. Carl’s voice cut through, and there were lower tones of the judge – and another. Another of the Judiciary had arrived after the noontime meal and they had been in conference ever since. The town had been waiting for this new arrival for the trial was sure to begin soon after. She leaned against the cold, hardwood door and exhaled nervously. Lewis’s fate was likely to be decided the next day. She had only one night to see him, and then…
The window gave easily, and she was out on the roof of the veranda, quickly and quietly proceeding to the end – far away from the main activity of the house – where boxes were piled to the side. Hanging upside-down from the veranda roof she inspected the area for anyone who may see her. There was no-one, so she climbed down over the boxes and jumped to the ground. Remaining unseen, she ducked back into the shadows of the house before she was discovered.
Minutes later the shadowy figure moved swiftly between the houses in the town, towards one house in particular near the watch house. Old MacKenzies’s house lay as cold and silent as its owner, the old man having died the last year past. There was no need for fear in this place – no-one came here, save Victoria on dark nights such as this. The ladder was where she had left it, resting up against the back of the house. It was old, wooden and heavy. She struggled, dragging it to the rear of the watch-house. There had been activity there for the past two weeks as there were guests in residence, and they required many to attend them. They were not watching for a young woman carrying a ladder – perhaps if they were then they may have been alarmed.
The final rung reached almost to the roof, there was a slight stretch to gain the edge and pull oneself up. Once on the summit things were easier – it was flat and featureless save for several holes which opened into the guest accommodation. Having been here before it was easy to return to the opening that she needed. She leaned down over the dark gap before her and whispered: “Hey!”
The two below were asleep and required additional stimulation, and this time she added the name of the one she was calling.
A familiar voice came from below, its welcoming tones soothing her soul. “Vicki!” Lewis called back.
“The other judge is here,” she whispered desperately. “The trial will be tomorrow. Tonight is our last night.”
That fact was enough for him to know their time was almost at an end. “I miss you,” he whispered sincerely.
“I miss you too.”
There was another voice that came from down in the cell, a familiar voice, sounding slightly embarrassed. “Would you like me to leave?” Daniel asked them.
Victoria interjected quickly, not wanting to miss this opportunity. “I didn’t want to let this night pass without telling you how I feel about you.”
“I’m touched,” Daniel told her.
“I think she’s talking to me,” Lewis commented blandly.
Now she was getting irritated – this was a time to be serious – and they were being flippant. “Stop that you two,” she commanded. “Lewis, I have to tell you… Tell you that I…”
Her words were cut short as the doorway opened, and light spilled into the small cell. The two below were caught looking up, directing the gaze of the guards to where Victoria was peering down. She ducked back hoping to remain undetected, listening to the voices below.
“What were you looking at?” It was a voice she was not familiar with. It was one of her brother’s men.
“Nothing,” Lewis told him, “just the stars.”
“Right… well out you come, the boss wants to see you.”
The light below was cut off, the cell was plunged in darkness again. She called his name several times and received no reply. He was gone.
Voices carried up from the entrance to the watch house. Several voices she already knew. The words could not be made out, so a closer vantage point was required.
“This will be over tonight…” Tobias the judge was saying to another, just below her at the doorway, “…and you can be on your way back tomorrow like I promised. Delvore is getting them out now.”
They entered the house moments later leaving Victoria breathless with fear, lying on her back on the roof top. She took a short time to consider what might be the best course of action to take, and once decided, made her way to the edge of the roof. 
Stretching back down to the top rung of the ladder she lowered herself down, rung by rung and slipped eight steps short, falling the intervening distance to the ground below. Her left arm was defensively stretched out to break her fall and broke itself instead. She heard the sharp crack first but felt no pain until she recovered from the daze surrounding her and viewed its deformed appearance. Stifling a cry and with tears in her eyes she cradled the damaged arm in the other and made off in the direction of Boyes’s house leaving the ladder, the evidence of her crime, leaning suspiciously against the wall.

Chapter Eighteen

Avolio watched the four being dragged out of their cells to stand before him. He sat at the table and regarded them, this being the first time he had seen most of them. Daniel, the local man standing on the end, short – as were all people from this region, was someone he had seen before, many years earlier, and he knew something of his history. Then there was a tall young woman who fixed her eyes on him with hostility; a large dark skinned man, his forehead creased with concern, holding up another who could barely stand. That man’s eyes stared blankly and his mouth hung open. There were fading bruises on his face.
Avolio pointed to the injured one. “What happened to that one on the end?” he asked.
Carl, the latest Delvore leader, stepped up from behind, seeking to clear up any confusion in this matter, telling the judge what had transpired.
“Someone, please, get this man a chair!” Avolio demanded, shaking his head with disgust.
A slight disturbance in the air behind indicated that Carl had issued a wordless command. It was obeyed and the injured one was roughly pushed down onto the simple wooden chair. The dark-skinned man stood next to him, one of his large hands resting on the man’s shoulder, steadying him there.
“Your Honour…” He was talking to Tobias who stood at the back of the room waiting, wearing the robes of his office. “Are you ready to proceed?”
The other judge stepped forward, bowing formally. “Yes, thank you, Your Honour. I am.”
The judge Tobias rounded the accused and stood to their right, flaring out his robes melodramatically and placing his hand on his hips. Avolio raised an eyebrow at the display but said nothing. 
Lifting his head the prosecutor spoke clearly. “Your Honour, these four who stand before you have been charged by the local militia with murder. There are two more accused who still remain at large and they have been charged in their absence. Any finding that is made here will apply to them once they have been apprehended.”
“Thank you, Your Honour,” Avolio said with less vigour. “What are the circumstances relating to this murder?”
“Two weeks prior to this day, a body was recovered at the shore of the nearby lake by a local man. This body was of a young man who had died of wounds inflicted by a person - or persons. He was largely unrecognizable due to these injuries but was identified through his clothing. He was one Thom of Ghundah, recently found working at the farm of the accused.”
Avolio already knew the answer, but had to ask it never-the-less. Formality dictated it. “Would this be a violent murder, would you say?”
“Yes, I would. The injuries were consistent with a violent death. Should this inquisition find the accused guilty, then there should be an appropriate sentence for this type of brutal crime.”
He nodded. The preliminaries over, now it was time for the finer points. “Let’s proceed,” Avolio directed the court. “So, the murdered man, this Thom of Ghundah, was in the employ of the accused?”
“That was well known, Your Honour. The farm in question was managed by Daniel – one of the accused – on behalf of the Delvore family. There had been eight people living and working there. It is well known that these farm allotments would only support eight people, but there was a tragic occurrence that changed the circumstances on this plot: the entire crop produced from this farm – every stalk, every seed – was incinerated and lost. In circumstances such as these the Delvore family has traditionally demanded only the rent for the property. Their benevolence has allowed many families to remain on their traditional allotments.”
Tobias took a breath after such a long statement, pausing to look briefly at the young Delvore that stood behind Avolio.
“The group accused here,” he continued, “managed to pay this rental allotment but it is believed that this would have placed an extreme level of stress upon them. The victim in this case was in danger of being put out without being paid his wages from work he had done preceding, and for the collection of, the harvest. The victim was heard to indicate exactly that issue days prior to his disappearance. He spoke to many in this village regarding this and his fears were well known. I submit a motive, Your Honour: the victim was in the way and expensive. They could not get rid of him without exposing themselves to the community.”
All through Tobias’s address Avolio was intently watching the expression of the young woman. He was waiting for her to explosively react. She finally did after Tobias’s last statement, his dissertation making her temper boil to the surface.
“That’s a lie!” she declared stridently. “We were doing well - we would have survived and kept him with us. He was our friend and we had no wish to see him dead!”
“Really…?” Tobias asked her sceptically. “You would have survived? I doubt it. Where were you going to get food? How were you going to pay for food, for seed, for goods?”
The woman bit her lip. There was something, some secret that she was not divulging here. Tobias was trying to draw it out – or perhaps he didn’t care – perhaps he knew she could not tell and was counting on that to build his case.

***

Her head was swimming and overwhelmed with pain, she stumbled through the darkness between the houses of the village. In her mind she needed to do only one thing: to reach the elder and tell him what was transpiring at the watch house, but with every step her resolve began to weaken. The pain was almost overtaking her when she finally reached the door, striking it with her good shoulder as she fell. She slid down its face to rest at the step before it.
Hands took her, standing her. She began to fight back with fear, not understanding. She was unable to resist on account of not having arms that were up to the task: one of them was broken and unmovable, and the other cradled its opposite protectively. Then she was on her back, hands prying the good arm away, ripping at the fabric of her sleeve. There were voices talking to her, trying to get answers but she was unable to give them.
Her eyes slammed open, the pain in her arm brought her to consciousness immediately. She cried out and then discovered as she did that the worst of it was over. Standing above her the face of Amelia looked down, regarding her with concern and anger.
“I told you to be careful,” the older woman scolded her. “You fell off the roof, didn’t you?”
Her husband was standing behind, looking over Amelia’s shoulder. He seemed confused. “Roof, what roof?”
“The watch-house roof,” Amelia said clinically. “Well, young lady, you have broken the two bones in your lower arm. I’ve set them.”
“What was she doing on the watch house roof?”
“Seeing the boy, Lewis, I would imagine. Get her a drink would you, dear.”
Boyes moved out of Victoria’s vision, leaving only Amelia sitting on the bed next to her.
The healer knew that there was something more. Being on the roof was one thing, but dragging herself over to the elder’s house alone spoke of another issue, something more urgent. “What happened?” Amelia asked her pointedly.
Her mind was slowly clearing with every second. Something had transpired. She was on the roof, talking to Lewis. Then the guards came. Then she heard something else. Something someone said.
“Here.” Boyes handed her a cup of water and she took it in her good hand.
Drinking slowly the water loosened her throat. She was breathing easier and her mind was clearing. This will be over tonight… Tears formed in her eyes. It was happening, now. 
She leaned forward desperately. “They’re doing it: the trial. The judges are there. They’re doing it!”
Boyes’s ears pricked up. He had stepped out of harm’s way but now he returned to his wife’s side. “What?” he gasped, “…doing the trial?”
Victoria nodded, barely able to speak and Boyes swore, grabbed his coat and was gone through the door. Her task complete, Victoria slumped back to the bed and sighed. She could do nothing now but worry.

***

Avolio sat back and thought for several moments. If there was a sign of guilt here, he would find it. “Only the injured one here was present at the farm at the time of arrest?”
“Master Delvore reported the likelihood that the local woman Joanna was present at the farm as well.”
“And she was not taken too?”
“She escaped capture,” Delvore said behind him, “We believe the one named Jim fought his arrest in order to enable her escape.”
“She ran?” It was not a question. She ran because she was guilty.
“Yes, Your Honour,” answered Tobias. “The other four here were not present at the arrest, they had vanished to an unknown location some days prior. They were missing when the victim was attacked and died.”
Avolio leaned forward, addressing the accused. “Where were you when the crime occurred?” he asked them.
The young woman who had spoken earlier opened her mouth but stopped, the conflict in her face was obvious. She definitely had a secret.
“Well?”
Glancing quickly over to the man on the chair she seemed to make her decision, straightening up. “We were at what the people here call ‘The Stairs’.”
“A monument, a ruin, some two day’s journey from here,” the other judge explained.
“One day’s walk,” the woman corrected him.
Avolio frowned. “What were you doing there?”
She smiled, putting two words together in a combination he had never heard before. “Sight-seeing” she told him.
Tobias continued. “Hiding more like it, I think.”
She wasn’t angry anymore. She answered his questions evenly and dispassionately - like she knew he answers were meant nothing to the court. “We weren’t hiding, like I said.”
“Is there anyone that can vouch for your whereabouts?” Avolio asked her hopefully. He was starting to get the feeling there was something wrong with this case. These accused did not have the look of killers, and Avolio had met many of those – both as a soldier and as a judge.
She sighed. “Jim and Joanna knew we were going there, and Thom.”
Avolio turned his attention to the seated man, his head down and staring at the floor. “We can hardly ask him, can we?”
“Your co-accused would likely tell us what you need him to say. There is no-one else?” 
Tobias was hounding her, pushing her to anger again, but she would not break a second time. “No Your Honour,” she said quietly.
Avolio turned his eyes firstly to Emily then the others in front of him. Closing his eyes he weighed together all of the things presented and finally opened them to regard the other judge standing next to the accused.
“A word, Your Honour,” he said to his colleague, “if you please?”

***

Boyes frantically hammered on Laydon’s door hoping the older man was not asleep – or worse. He needed him to be awake and ready to face this unexpected eventuation. There was no answer and Boyes hammered again – louder this time. When the door swung open he was greeted by an annoyed Laydon dressed for bed. Boyes pushed past through the gap and into the house.
“Come in,” Laydon growled at his friend’s back.
“Get some clothes on… quickly!”
The elder’s house was a great deal more untidy than Boyes had ever seen it. Since Laydon’s wife passed three summers ago, Laydon had been letting a good many things slip.
“What’s going on?”
Boyes bristled with anger. “We’ve been tricked – they’re holding the trial now.”
Laydon was startled but already moving. He started to change, the import of the news inspiring him to haste. “Now…?”
“Right now…!”
He was dressed quicker than Boyes had expected, he was hoping to have more time and discuss a strategy.
Laydon was way ahead of him, “How will we handle this?”
“We’ll have to get in first. Something tells me that won’t be easy.”
“They can’t keep us out and they know it,” Laydon said, pulling on his last shoe. “That’s why they’ve held it now – hoping it would be all over before we knew it was even on. We need to hear the arguments but it must be a weak case or they wouldn’t have tried this move.”
They were out the door quickly, the door slamming shut behind them as they hurried up the hill to the square.
Boyes was panting, “This is going to be a sham trial for sure. They already know what the verdict is going to be.”
They were stopped just past the village square by a party of guards. The watch house could be seen in the distance, at the north west corner of the village - the lights from the main room windows glowing with activity. The road was blocked by wooden barricades that had never been seen before in the village.
“What’s this?” Laydon asked the guard captain, pointing to the newly erected fence.
“The road is closed, Elder Laydon,” he explained.
“Closed? What for? Who ordered this?” Boyes demanded.
“There’s a dangerous incident ahead,” the captain lied. “The road is closed for your protection. We are under orders from Lord Delvore and the Judge. No exceptions.”
“This is ridiculous. Let us through.” Laydon put a hand on the barricade and the guard behind advanced a step.
“I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t permit you to pass. I’ve my orders.”

***

“Your case isn’t very strong,” Avolio argued. “At best you have intent, but that could be argued away. No one saw what happened so all you have is what you think may have happened.”
The two judges were huddled in the back corner of the room, away from prying ears and speaking in the old tongue to make doubly sure.
“They did want him out of the way,” Tobias countered, “as the victim himself had said – then he turns up dead. Some of them ran off – a sure sign of guilt – and one of them attacked and injured Delvore’s men, resisting arrest. There is a history of violence – attacking citizens of this town.” Tobias sounded slightly worried.
“Still… you want the maximum penalty for this one and it is hardly open and shut.” 
Tobias conceded ground. “Why not resume this in the morning and take witness accounts?” he suggested. “I am sure I can produce witnesses then.” Then he added with a sly smile. “Or we can finish this tonight and then it will be done. You can be on your way again.”
Despite the desire to get back to his home, he had to be sure that the decision he made would be the right one. “We should at least hear what they have to say.”
“If you wish…”
Facing the four again, Avolio sat and took a deep breath.
“You…” and said, pointing to the woman, “what’s your name?”
“Emily, Your Honour.”
“You’re the leader?” he asked her, seeking clarity.
She nodded. “For now…” The slide-long glance she gave the injured man told him how things stood ordinarily.
“Very well, this is your chance to talk,” he offered her. “Do you want to answer these allegations?”
Her eyes lit up with renewed strength. “I do,” she declared strongly.
The young woman named Emily looked at her co-accused in the line. There was a general nod of agreement and so she launched her rebuttal.
“We don’t know what happened to Thom, but he was our friend. Someone did this to him but it sure wasn’t us. I don’t know why he said those things he said – if he ever did…” she was looking evenly at Tobias, the accusation unsaid, but implied. “He understood how things were. We didn’t run, we were away when it happened, that’s all. I think Jim fought back because he thought the guards who came into the farm were going to kill him and Joanna. He fought them off so that she could escape. She’s not here today because she probably doesn’t know what’s happened. I really think you don’t have enough to keep us here. We honestly haven’t done anything wrong.”
She stopped and looked Avolio straight in the eye. “Anyway,” she added, “if we did do it, then no one saw us and you’ve no proof. Are you going to execute us without proof? Is that what justice means here?”
Avolio turned to his fellow judge with a slight smile. “She makes a good point, doesn’t she Your Honour.”  

***

“I’m serious. You cannot prohibit us from going to the watch house. We’re elders. Move your men aside.” Boyes was becoming more irate as time moved by. The watch house was in sight. They were so close.
“Please, Elder Boyes,” the captain begged him, “I don’t want to have to jail you. I’ve got my orders and I can’t disobey them.”
They were getting nowhere. Laydon leaned into his ear and whispered to his friend, “Keep them occupied. I’m going for help.”

***

Lewis was bent over, looking through the barred window in the cell door he shared with Daniel. The corridor was quiet and dimly lit – there was no sound from the guard room.
“What do you think is happening?” Lewis asked, craning his head around to see down the passage.
“They’re no doubt deciding our fate,” Daniel said with a sigh. He had sat on the bed once they had been brought back to his cell and not moved since.
“That shouldn’t take too long, should it? I mean, we didn’t do it. They haven’t proved it. They just think we did it.”
“That might be enough.” Daniel’s face darkened. “Did you see Carl’s face when they led us out, that smirk on his face? It makes me want to punch it.”
“What are they going to do if they find us guilty?”
Daniels voice was grim. “The judge said it was a violent death so, it’s death for us. They’ll have that carried out before the sun rises. It’ll be all over.”
Lewis came away from the bars and swore under his breath. “What I can’t work out is where the elders are,” he was saying when he recovered some of his composure. “They said they would be here when we were tried.”
Daniel shrugged. “Perhaps they don’t know. It is the middle of the night.”
Lewis remembered that he had seen Victoria on the room right before they had been taken out. “Vicky saw what was going on,” he said confidently. “She’ll tell them. She won’t let me down.”

***

“I will make this easy for you, my friend,” Tobias offered him quietly. “There is enough evidence here to convict them. They had intent. Of course they could say they were friends all day long, but the fact is the victim himself said there was trouble. The fact that no one saw them is testament to their duplicity. They brought him to a place that no one would see their foul act and then when it was done, they vanished. Let us have this over tonight.”
Avolio rubbed his forehead, trying to stay the growing ache in his head. “I know you are right,” he conceded, “but there is one thing that is worrying me. Why do you want this over quickly? I know why I do, but what do you have to gain?”
Tobias narrowed his eyes but his voice did not indicate any ire. “Are you suggesting I am getting something from this?” he asked him. “Do you think I am pushing this through because of something I want? These people have been nothing but trouble from the day they arrived. They have lied, cheated, attacked us…” He was pointing to his palm as he pronounced each crime. “Now there has been a murder, a horrible murder the likes of which no one has ever seen here and all signs point to them – and you suggest I have an agenda?”
Avolio did not back down. The feeling something was wrong was building with each moment. “It is the death penalty I have a problem with. We are not absolutely sure it was them. We will be killing them for something they did not do. That is not sitting right with me.”
“It’s murder, Avolio, brutal murder,” Tobias pronounced forcefully. “We cannot let this one go. That’s why the system works. Brutal crime requires a brutal response - a swift, brutal response. A solution and a deterrent - that is our obligation.”
“We have an obligation to get it right.”
“I have got it right. I know they did it. All you have to do is agree and it is done.” His voice softened, almost pleading. “Just agree. Go back to your wife. It is that simple.”

***

Boyes kept at the captain of the militia. He tried plain orders but the captain would not budge. He tried pleading but it fell on deaf ears. He tried the truth but the captain was simply not interested. He was about to try brute force, though such a tact would have been doomed from the start, when a commotion was heard behind. The captain and his men became worried, looking past the elder toward the square, and started to back up a few steps. A general retreat was quickly approaching when the captain barked a command which forced the guard to stand at their position. Boyes did not turn around - he had no need to - he knew what was transpiring behind him. Gradually the darkness that was all around him was replaced by the warm glow of over one hundred torches. Laydon joined him, a broad grin upon his face.
“You look your time. I’d run out of ideas. I was just about to take them on all by myself.”
“I don’t think that would have been a good idea,” Laydon suggested smugly. “I told you I’d be back. I brought some friends. You wouldn’t want to keep all the fun to yourself, would you?”
Boyes did not reply to his friend. He simply addressed the nervous captain who stood behind the barricade, alone now, his men ignoring his earlier command and rapidly retreating.
“Looks like I’ll be coming through after all,” he commented pleasantly. “You’d better go after your men. They seemed to have a problem with holding this position against me and my friends.”
The captain was gone. He didn’t run though, he turned his back regally and marched off toward the watch house, no doubt in order to report to the master of the watch – young Carl Delvore himself.
Boyes pushed way the first of the wooden planks that barred their way. “How did you persuade them all to help us?” he asked.
“They don’t all agree that the newcomers are necessarily innocent but they all think they should get a fair trial. Now…” he said decisively, once they were over at the other side of the fence, “…let’s go and get them one.”

***

The captain entered the watch house closing the door behind him. Carl noticed his arrival and could read from his expression that something had transpired at the barrier. The man was sweaty, his face wet with perspiration, but he wasn’t out of breath. He hadn’t run here from the barricade. Whatever it was it had unnerved the man making him leave his command.  
“Lord Delvore! We’ve got a problem!”
Carl was standing by the barred doorway to the cells, waiting for the command to call in the prisoners for their sentencing. He had known what the verdict would be, known that very soon he would be free of these troublesome people. On hearing the pronouncement from his captain his expression of satisfaction was replaced with annoyance.
“What is it?”
“The village… the people, they’re all marching here. It’s a mob!”
Carl was incensed. He had left an order. He had expected that the captain could control his men, but obviously not.
“I’ll see to this,” he promised to all who were nearby. He turned to the two judges and spoke to them directly without attempting to disguise the threat in his tone. He was tired of playing around. “You two come to a decision, now! It had better be the right one!”
The sounds of the crowd could be heard through the door, they were right outside. Carl defiantly swung it open to face them, the light from the torches were hot against his face. He went through and onto the step just outside, pulling the door closed behind him. He was alone against the mob and he met them recklessly.
“What’s going on here?” He snarled his question, looking for the leaders and finding Laydon and Boyes at the front. “I left orders that no-one was to be near this building.”
Boyes stepped forward, his face glowing with triumph. “We were about to ask you the same question. What’s going on here, Carl?”
He was annoyed that he had not been afforded the respect his position deserved but he kept his head. “I won’t answer any of your questions tonight. Right now the rest of my guard are moving into this little meeting – so you had best be off home all of you – or you’ll spend the night in the cells like your friends.”
Laydon was right next to Boyes, backing him up. “You’ve got something wrong, Carl,” he told Delvore with the confidence of a man backed up by a hundred people. “Not everyone here is a friend of the accused in there – but everyone is a friend of justice. You and the judges are denying them what is fair and just. We’re here to see that they get it.”
“Move out of the way, Carl,” Boyes added, commanding compliance.
“I’m not moving. You’re going to have to go through me.”
Carl felt the door shake rhythmically three times, someone on the inside was knocking. He stepped forward and the door opened inwards, only a few centimetres but enough to admit the face of his captain – pale and sweaty. Something had transpired.
“What?” He couldn’t hear the man over the crowd.
The captain spoke in his ear the words he had been waiting for, and Carl turned to the crowd and to the elders. “You’re all too late,” he informed them, a smile of triumph on his lips.

***

Emily stood in the centre of the group – stunned at the pronouncement. The others huddled around her watching fearfully as the guards slowly advanced on the embattled group. Avolio was standing at the desk, the distaste of the decision evident on his face and Tobias was behind him against the wall. He regarded the completion of the night’s deliberations with an almost neutral stance, but his eyes… The hatred glowed from them as if they were windows to his very soul. 
The noise from the exterior of the building spilled in from the door as Carl jumped in and pushed the door shut behind him aided by three of his men. The door shook with the relentless pounding from the outside.
Carl smoothed back his hair and walked confidently over to the group of the convicted. Emily met him once again, a leader to the last, daring him to advance further. Carl looked at her disdainfully and gave the order he had been waiting to give. “It’s time,” he said vehemently. “Let’s get this over with.”
He signalled to his underlings, directing them to push the group toward the open doorway to the cells. Only Lewis showed fear. Sammy’s face was calm – almost as though he had made peace with his soul. He moved toward his end with dignity. Emily kept Jim upright. He seemed beyond caring. His eyes were vacant and staring. Emily kept her face set like stone, grimly standing her ground against those who wished to deal out this swift retribution.
Suddenly, for one – perhaps two – seconds all became quiet. The world stopped. Emily stood as before – initially unable to move but acutely aware of all around her. In that moment she heard it, a whisper, a voice she had not expected but one that she knew very well. These last few days she had assumed the command of this rag-tag group hoping against hope that Jim would return to them and take back the reins. He simply remained in his dazed state and she was left to muddle through. She heard it again and strained to understand it. Lowering him to the floor and cradling his head in her lap she leaned over to listen. His eyes were clear now and they blinked, returning her gaze steadily. He spoke it again, quietly, barely a whisper, in plain English.
Time started again. She was on the ground with him. Carl was advancing again, cruelty in his eyes – the hands of his men out to seize them all, to kill them. The pounding on the door grew louder and those leaning against it were jolted by the force behind it. Emily spoke the word back to him quietly – repeating it in English.
Over at the desk the judge who had pronounced the sentence was calling to her. He had seen her talking but could not hear what either she or Jim had said. “What was that?” he demanded desperately. “What did he say?” 
She raised her head and looked at him, standing and leaning over the desk. He had hope shining in his eyes. She spoke the word, this time in the local tongue, clear and loud for all to hear: “He said: Appeal.”

Chapter Nineteen

The door slammed again with a clang that reverberated through the small cell they had called home for the last two weeks. Sammy lowered Jim down onto the bed, letting his head fall gently onto the hard bedding. Jim opened his eyes again, looking intently at his friend, the remains of his disorientation having left for good. Sammy smiled. Jim had saved them for sure.
“What made you think to say that?” Sammy asked him.
“Hmmm?” he replied sleepily. “Say what?”
“Appeal, you said appeal.”
“Did I? Oh. I must have heard it somewhere.” Jim scanned what he could see of the cell, his eyes showing recollection. “I know this place.”
Sammy looked up and around at the four walls that enclosed them, then at the roof with its skylight.
“You should, we were only here a few months ago. They haven’t done anything to the place while we were gone.”
“I’ll have a talk to the warden,” Jim said with a weak smile. “If they’re going to keep putting us in here then they’ll need to get some curtains, maybe even a sofa.”
“You do that,” Sammy said mildly. Sliding down against the wall, he let his head fall back against the cold stone and breathed in deeply the cool, fresh air of the night. The atmosphere of the guard house where the trial had occurred was stifling. Even now in the cell, enclosed as he was, he felt freer. 
“How long have I been…?” Jim left his question unfinished.
Sammy answered it anyway. “Two weeks.”
“Two weeks?” He sat up, shocked. “I don’t remember anything!”
“Lucky you,” Sammy replied blandly, explaining. “You weren’t completely out cold – you were awake enough to eat and drink, but gone was your usual sparking conversation. All in all, you didn’t miss anything.”
Jim shook his head to clear it. “What did we do this time?”
“You don’t know?” I wasn’t really a question. Jim had spent the last two weeks in a haze. It seemed reasonable that the cause of their current plight remained unknown to him. “I don’t know how to say this…” Sammy began tentatively, then setting himself to the task, “…so I am just going to come right out and say it: Thom was murdered and they think we did it.”
Jim had been pale for the last two weeks, but now he was ashen. “So they found us guilty, and we appealed?”
“Apparently - thanks to you. There is an argument going on right now. I gather it is about whether we can appeal. I think they were talking up the death penalty.”
Jim swore under his breath. “Thom… the poor bastard...”
“Something is not right about it though. Some people heard Thom say he wasn’t wanted – in fact that we were trying to get rid of him.”
“Somebody’s doing some lying then.”
“It does seem that way,” Sammy agreed, “Their evidence wasn’t very good, but it looks as though it was enough. They have been trying to get rid of us for some time now.”
“Is Emily in charge?”
Sammy smiled, his white teeth reflecting in what light entered the cell from the door. “You’d have been proud of her. She looked them in the eyes fearlessly. You’d better be careful – she’ll be after your job.”
Jim held his head and closed his eyes against an obvious headache. “She can have it,” he said quietly.

***

Avolio sat at the table regarding her speculatively. To his side, Tobias sat against the wall, his displeasure evident by the look on his face. Avolio ignored him, concentrating on the convicted woman instead. 
She stood as she did before, straight with her head held high and eyes watching, sparkling in the light of the lamps. Avolio saw much of the same qualities he held as dear in the one he loved in this young woman and that reminded him that he needed to get home. He needed to get home soon or he would lose her. All of this business had served only to delay him but he could see no way around things now. He was fair above all things and decided to ignore the gnawing feeling that he was losing everything that he had built to help these people. 
The moment that word was uttered his hopes were revived. He had hoped it would be said. He had hoped it because now their blood would be on another’s hands, but now another question remained.
“Now young lady,” he began with a just a hint of impatience, “you have asked for an appeal. Do you know what that means?” 
“I suppose it means someone more important gets to hear our story and decide. Is that right?”
“Someone more important, yes… the King himself.”
She gasped. Perhaps it was the fact that she would be standing before the monarch or perhaps it was something else. Regardless, the news shocked her. “The King?” she asked, “not more judges?”
Avolio explained. “In this country we move to judgments – and punishments – as quickly as possible. You only have one appeal, to the king. Once. He decides your fate, and those with you.” He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. Now we get to the dilemma. “For us, another problem presents itself. The question is: can you appeal? If you are not citizens under the king so my learned friend attests, can you appeal under the king?”
Tobias said nothing. He stared at Emily evenly – waiting for her reply.
After a moment of thought she narrowed her eyes slyly and answered him. “You don’t have any trouble convicting us under the king. If your laws apply to us when you think we break one of them then surely they apply when we appeal against that same law.”
Avolio smiled. It was just what he had been thinking. Using the opportunity to score a point against his colleague, he added: “She makes another valid point, doesn’t she Your Honour.”
Tobias did not bite but his look of displeasure widened. “It is up to you, Avolio,” he growled. “You know what my opinion is.”
Over the last few minutes a plan had been forming in his mind. He had decided their fate. They had requested an appeal and now the issue was thrust firmly back into his hands. 
There is another way, he thought. 
“I think…” he declared, closing his eyes in a show of consideration, “…we should consult others on this subject.”
Tobias barely contained his anger. It was no secret he wished Avolio to reject the right to appeal. “You’re avoiding the decision,” he accused.
“Not exactly,” Avolio said satisfyingly, feeling freer by the moment. “I am simply giving others the pleasure of making it for me.”
Tobias stood and left the room in disgust.
“Tomorrow we will be departing for the city,” Avolio told her. “It’ll take several days, then we’ll decide whether or not to allow your appeal.” The disarming tone in his voice drained away, leaving only emptiness and regret in its place.

***

A gust came up from the east, blowing the torches of the mob to frenzy, making the folds of their clothing flap and flutter. There were murmurs behind the leaders - the crowd was beginning to lose its commitment. It was likely numbers would start to decrease until only the two elders and the healer remained in front of the watch house door.
The judge Tobias had left in huff and this gave the three a renewed hope - perhaps things were not as bad as first thought. The door remained open, the warm glow of lamps within, inviting the leaders to enter. The way was blocked quickly by the guard and they could advance no further, the door slamming in their faces. They waited for news expectantly, but it was not long before the other judge pushed his way out stopping suddenly when faced by the waiting throng. Boyes knew it was pointless chasing Tobias – his views were well known and his impartiality was questionable – but the other one…
The townsfolk dispersed, pleased that justice was at least appearing to be done. Satisfied with the notion that further legal questions were to be answered, they returned to their homes, their torches fanning out into the night like embers rising from a fire, carried off by the wind. Soon only Laydon, Boyes and his wife, Amelia remained, offering their continued support for the five still incarcerated. 
Amelia in particular voiced her concerns: “I’m telling you, Avolio, he is not fit to travel. He has not spoken a sensible word for almost two weeks. He has barely been awake. Now you want him to travel that sort of distance. He won’t survive.” She gave her professional opinion with all the force of conviction she could muster, her hands firmly on her hips.
“I assure you, Amelia,” the judge replied with a sigh of regret. “I have no desire to see him dead. I will ensure his welfare.”
“If he has to go,” she said with determination, “then I will ensure his welfare. I will go with him.”
“Now wait,” Boyes interjected, shocked. “I’m not sure…”
She cut him off, her hand up to stall any objection. “He is my patient. If he goes, then so do I.”
“Well, that settles that. I’ll have to go too.”
“I’m sure I’ll manage without you.”
“I’m sure you will,” he said with as much resolution she had shown, “but I’m coming anyway.”
The two turned and looked to Laydon. Events had happened far too quickly for him. “I’ll stay here then,” he said tentatively. “I’ll keep things going here.”
Boyes nodded. “Good idea.”
The judge broke in. “Now that is settled, if you will excuse me…”
As he tried to push his way through he was stopped by Boyes, his hand blocking the judge’s way. “Before you go, Avolio,” he asked the increasingly annoyed judge. “If you don’t mind, what are your plans?”
“My plans…?”
“Your travel plans.”
“…the quickest way possible to Trade Town.”
“The way is easier to Mharum,” Amelia suggested strongly. “My patient…”
“No,” Avolio interjected in such a tone that suggested there would be no negotiation, “We will go over the mountain and down to the Mharae.”
“He’s not going to do well on that road, and it’s dangerous.”
“I want this over with as quickly as possible and this route is the most direct. Five days. I will have them to a council in five days.”
She opened her mouth to object, to rail against the pace.
“Look…” he said impatiently, cutting off her objection. “I’m trying to help you. Tobias has enough supporters in Mharum to ensure the verdict he wants. In the council at Trade Town, now that’s a different story. They have a better chance at Mharae.”
“And…” he added sourly, “… the Chief Justice owes me a favour.”

Dark clouds rolled in from the south during the hours before sunrise. These clouds offered no thunder or lightning, only a constant drizzle which threatened to persist well into the daylight hours.
No one slept. The rain fell steadily on the five kept in the cells. They were pulled cold and damp into the morning light, bleary eyed and tired. The two judges were there along with Carl Delvore and a retinue of guards and servants. The newest judge waited impatiently, rain staining the heavy coat he wore, the dreariness of the day matching his mood. 
Five figures appeared walking up from the square, two dressed and ready for travel. The others were carrying packs and bundles of clothing. Jim stood unsteadily, squinting in the poor light and fighting against the blurriness which was a by-product of almost two weeks of semi-consciousness. The appearance of the group approaching became clearer, so much so that Jim recognized the two men who led them. There was a woman following who he had met only twice, the wife of Boyes the elder. He could not recall her name. Both Boyes and his wife were dressed for travel.
The impatient judge had seen them too. Grunting at the delay he called over three squat horses that were standing on the sidelines. They have horses? Jim wondered. Like everything he had seen thus far, these horses were as stunted as those that rode them.

Seeing Jim upright and awake, Laydon and the woman came to him first. “I heard you were up and about. It’s good to see,” the elder declared, slapping him on the shoulder.
Without warning the elder’s wife launched into an examination and Jim stepped back with surprise.  “Any headaches, double vision or dizziness?” she asked him pointedly.
Did he miss something? Laydon broke in, sensing Jim’s reluctance to answer, a result of his misunderstanding Amelia’s role in the recent events.
“Amelia has been treating you these past two weeks. She has been watching you very closely.”
“Ah…” Jim smiled. “Thank you very much. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”
“It’s part of the job,” she said dispassionately. “Bend down – I want to look in your eyes.”
Jim did so, the pain returning to his head as he bent down, causing him to wince.
“This would be so much easier if you kept them open.”
He apologized and she gazed into them, covering one, then the other, all the while repeating her first question.
“All of the above,” was his answer.
“That will pass. Follow my finger.”
She moved her finger in front of his face, watching his eyes move about following her finger’s path. She grunted to herself, looking into a bag pulled from over her shoulder.
“Chew this…” She handed him a small piece of bark. “It does not taste pleasant, but it will help with your head.”
She looked around to the back of his head. “You have been hit several times on this head of yours. You have been stitched at least once. Try and look after yourself better. The next time you might not wake up at all.”
Jim turned to Laydon, “She says that like it’s all been my fault,” he said blandly.
One of the judges, Jim assumed it was Avolio by his friend’s description of him, had walked up to them - his boots crunching on the coarse gravel that surrounded the watch house. “I hate to interrupt this meeting, but it is time to go.” 
“We’re not ready yet,” she told the judge without even the slightest attempt at reverence. “You’ll have to wait.”
He grumbled his way back the horses and his colleague.
“There’s a change of clothes and a coat for all of you,” Boyes said. “I’m sorry if the fit is not quite right, but it’s the best I could do in the time I had.” He directed their attention to the packs that had been laid next to the front door of the prison. “Emily will change first, then you men. Well…” When Emily didn’t move, he waved her in the direction she was ordered to go.

***

Avolio watched the preparations with bottled impatience as he was extremely keen to leave. Transportation to the lake had been prepared during the night and already a column of smoke rose from the lakeside, summoning the boat from one of the nearby rivers to the dock. The boat would take them to Lakestop at the northern end.
Slinging his pack over the back of his mount, Avolio checked the saddle and the girth strap, passing the time as best he could. The other two horses were being tended by Delvore’s men, many of whom looked rather battered and bruised that morning – with many injuries visible on their faces. 
“What’s the delay?” Tobias asked him from behind.
His colleague and the young Delvore had joined him, now observing the activity across the yard with continued distaste. Clearly, neither of these men thought that this day should have eventuated. These interlopers were leaving the town, and that should have made them happy. Avolio looked up from his position under the horse, tightening the girth strap as he did.
“The healer wants to be sure they’re fit to travel,” he explained. “They’re changing clothes. They won’t be long.”
Looking over to the group of Delvore’s men, Avolio voiced what was on his mind. “Was there some trouble last night?” he asked Delvore, “Some of your men look a little worse for wear this morning.”
The young man turned to observe them as well, furrows of concern showing on his face. “It appears I have bandits in this area. They were attacked, they said. That is why I can’t spare any men for your escort, I need them here.”
Avolio straightened and let the side of his coat open showing the heavy, dangerous weapon at his side. “We won’t need them,” he promised.
The men had quickly changed and they would have finished sooner if Jim had been more capable. Amelia called sharply to the guard announcing their readiness.
“Finally…!” Tobias muttered, climbed up onto his horse with a grunt.

***

Leading the procession down a gentle valley towards the lake, the two judges rode with an almost unconscious air of superiority born from years of strutting and preening for the benefit of the populous. Jim, the only other person riding, came behind them, the doctor insisting he take the last mount due to his medical condition. She walked along-side, watching him in case he started to fall. On the other side, Sammy strode along without being asked, continuing to care for his friend. Carl was grumbling behind them, feeling somewhat deflated after being made to walk in deference to the tall newcomer, and at this Jim was able to manage the slightest smile. Some of Delvore’s men were with him forming up in a line, trying to look the part of seasoned warriors and the remainder of his men took up the rear with the elders and the prisoners between them.
The distance took a good hour to complete - most of those on foot were tired and unused to walking any distance, having been confined for a fortnight. The weather was not helping, nor was the temperature, dropping further every day towards winter. Their thick warm coats were a welcome inclusion.
Jim continued to be amazed at the lack of natural vegetation in the area. All of the trees were small, poor specimens, and there was a distinct lack of smaller plants such as flowers and shrubs. There was grass – not lush and green but thick, hardy, olive-brown grass which lined the roads. As was the case thus far there were no animals about – except for the odd short horse, no farm animals could be seen or heard – as well as a lack of feral species. All in all, the region proved itself a stunted and unproductive place. They were going further a-field and Jim was hoping the rest of the country was better than what he had seen thus far. 
The hill ran down to the lake quickly, levelling out to the edge of a body of water that lay in a valley. It was deep grey in colour due to the presence of rain clouds overhead. Those clouds continued to provide a steady drizzle which dampened the spirits of all. Standing on a small, rocky beach at the southern end of the lake they waited for the boat to dock at a jetty. A flaming pyre sat on the beach nearby, depositing a thick black smoke into the grey sky. It flames spat and sizzled from the rain.
A horn blew, announcing the boat’s approach. When they had arrived at the shore they could see well into the distance but that soon changed. The visibility grew poor and only the outline of the boat could be seen through the worsening rain. On the announcement of the oncoming transport, Delvore’s men led the party over to the dock. The horses were left behind, their loads had been taken to the dock by hand, and they stood twitching the rain from their flanks, their heads down miserably with the rain dripping from their noses onto the beach.
Pulling their coats tightly around themselves to keep out the miserable weather, the party waited for the boat to pull in. It was not a large vessel, small enough to be propelled and manoeuvred under man power but large enough to carry cargo to and from the town. There were no sails, there was no wind. They pulled in slowly, thumping into the dock and coming to rest. The boat was tied down and a boarding plank thrown across the gap between boat and wharf.
“Good luck, my friend,” Laydon said, slapping a hand onto his friends back.
“You too... I don’t know when we’ll return.”
“No trouble.” Laydon sighed. “I’ll look after things here.” Then he turned to Amelia. “Are there any instructions for Victoria before you leave?”
“My cousin will see her next week. She’ll check on the splint. Tell her to keep it on until then.”
There was the customary transfer of goods, the boat gradually emptying. The party filled the space and waited.
Then, almost without warning, the mood of the crew changed - the return voyage had begun. Ropes were loosed, the plank raised and oars were dropped into the dark, swirling waters. The crew pulled hard, turning the vessel about, pointing them toward the long lake ahead.
They pulled away, the dock and those on it fading into the haze formed from the relentless drizzle. There on the dock Laydon stood, watching the boat disappear, and he began to fade as the boat was pulled ever further away. Jim could just see him now, jumping from the side of the wharf and onto the rocky beach. As he vanished he was striding purposefully back up to the town and the tasks ahead of him.

***

No matter how hard she tried, she could not get used to the subterranean life that she had been forced to adopt these past two weeks. The flight from the life she once knew seemed almost a lifetime ago, times spent with family and friends even longer. Now she spent her time with this quiet and purposeful young man, accomplishing tasks she could not understand. Her life continued on with the vague promise that something better was just around the corner, and amongst all of that which she witnessed she saw something of the past and the future.
On the bench before him lay the metal monstrosity he had been working on these last few days. There were boxes strewn all about containing small, metal pieces. Consulting the strange object which opened apart, containing sheet after sheet of thin white material emblazoned by lines and marks, he scratched his head and looked back at the metal object sitting next to him. Muttering to himself he looked back to the lines and nodded. He looked up to her, sitting on a chair watching him, her face expressing boredom.
“I thought so,” he pronounced finally. “I should have put this in first…”
Holding up the object he had called a ‘book’, he pointed to the lines that were marked there. She smiled and nodded. She had no idea what he was doing. He consulted the book again.
“Ah…” He called out a long number, and then said: “I’d better go and get it.”
The majority of the space that the two had occupied was in perpetual gloom, the only light was emanating from the strange burning objects set in the roof high above them. Their living area was further down than the space that Daniel and his father (and his fathers before him) had utilized long ago, behind the large and imposing metal door.
Mitchell was heard rummaging through the shelves down near the ramp that led upwards to their home. He was calling numbers to himself quietly, his voice echoing through the space around them. “Got it!” he finally yelled in triumph.
He was back and at his bench moments later, pulling another metal piece out of a box, tossing the carton to the growing pile to his left. “Yep, that’s it,” he said as he turned it over in his hands, inspecting it. He fitted the object using tools from the bench and looked back to the book with satisfaction. She did not understand the need for this exercise, but it did keep Mitchell happy and occupied. He did do other things – tasks that Joanna thought more important, such as cutting wood and fetching food but there are only so many hours in the day you can attend to either of those two responsibilities.
The day earlier they had stood at the doorway to the outside world, axes in hand, as the rain fell steadily outside. Mitchell managed to collect some damp wood before the rain intensified. Carrying it down he sealed the doorway behind him using his wrist key and stoked up the fire below.
A voice from over at the large metal carriage Mitchell called a ‘truck’ broke her daydream: “Pass me the twelve.”
He was leaning right into the open front of the truck, his backside hanging out. An outstretched hand waited to receive the tool he requested.

***

Jim was feeling better the following day. The way-house set some distance from the beach was small but was able to accommodate them all with relative comfort. The beds were soft and warm – certainly more comfortable than the ‘bunks’ in the watch-house. Jim did not remember much about them though. He did remember his first night, one in which he spent on the floor – and the last. The meal provided was simple, hot and filling. Old man Delvore, though being slightly despotic at the very least, looked after his minions. 
They were woken early by Avolio, shaken from their beds for breakfast. It seemed that the night had not diminished his eagerness to proceed. Jim was still suffering some ill effects from his fortnight of illness and missed much of the discussions regarding their journey. Emily continued to speak for the group in his stead, something he was grateful for. The doctor bullied the judges mercilessly, coaxing concession after concession from them. Jim suspected that without her input – and his illness as an excuse – that they would have a much harder time ahead than they were going to have. He began to see the merits of not recovering too quickly – for all their sakes.
The rain continued to fall but much gentler than the day before. A fine mist covered their hair and faces, gradually soaking them again, undoing the work of an entire night warming them and drying their clothes. Outside a forbidding mountain loomed over them. It was hidden by low clouds. Lewis gasped.
“Are you joking?” he asked Avolio who was already climbing upon one of the horses stabled at the station. “We’re climbing that?”
Lewis had spoken little the day prior. He had learnt that Victoria had been injured getting word to the elders about the trial and now he felt intense frustration that he could not see her. He could not see that she was safe. He was forced to take assurances from the doctor and pass his words back through Laydon. It was obvious to all how they felt about each other, even more so now that there were intermediaries. Yesterday he stood at the stern of the boat as it pulled away from the dock, wondering if he would ever see her again and hoping for a glance – if only for a second – of her face before he left.
The elder put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “It is not as bad as it looks,” Boyes told him reassuringly. “We’ll go up there a little way and then to the right. The road takes a gentler, if not longer, path to the top.”
Jim could have walked certainly but it would not hurt to play on things for a little longer. The judges were both mounted and waiting for him to be helped up into the saddle. Then they pushed their mounts up to the road that wound its way to the start of the climb. The river ran down from the summit, snow melting from above was likely its source, flowing in a torrent to the lake below in a roar impinging upon their conversations. They did not talk to each other for some time until the road moved up to the right and started to climb.
Boyes was right, it was easier than going straight up, but it was steep and winding. The lake fell away below - the cabin becoming a small blight in the olive-green land. Out on the water, the boat that had brought them there moved in a steady pace back to the south end of the lake, taking Carl Delvore and most of his men back to the town. They continued to climb, up into the cloud where they saw nothing but the white mist about them.

***

Mitchell worked hard to attach the carburettor to the engine. He had assembled most of it over near the bench then used the hoist to lower the truck motor into the bay of the chassis. He had promised Joanna that soon he would show her what all this work was for and the benefit it would bring. Until then he remained tight lipped over the reason for all this labour.
Dropping the shifting spanner down through the bay it fell to the concrete floor with a clang and Mitchell swore. Joanna’s face appeared underneath and smiled, grasping the tool and sliding back out from view. Climbing up next to him she handed it over.
“You dropped this?”
He was about to thank her when they both heard a noise over by the ramp, echoing through the area.
“Did you hear that?” he asked her in a forced whisper.
Joanna nodded in agreement and after putting a finger to his lips he climbed down from the truck and quickly moved to the wall behind the work bench where his bag lay. He took out his pistol, and moved over to the ramp with Joanna following tentatively behind.
There was another noise. Someone was coming down the ramp, calling. Mitchell waited at the bottom, straining his eyes to see the level above in the half-light. There was another call and a figure moved up in the dark. 
Mitchell raised his pistol, clicked off the safety and prepared to fire.

Chapter Twenty

It took most of the day to complete the climb from Lakestop to the cabin almost at the top of the mountain. The vegetation had become more sparse, the elevation being higher and the weather much bleaker than down at the lake and in the town. There was no snow or ice here – perhaps that appeared higher up the mountain, but it was nonetheless bitterly cold. The cabin sat sheltered in front of two hills several clicks from the river and although they were some distance from it the noise remained, permeating through the hills as a constant reminder of its presence.
Another delay presented itself to Avolio, worsening his abject annoyance at the speed at which they travelled: Boyes and Amelia flatly refused to continue until the next day. There was not enough daylight to traverse the mountain and safely negotiate the decent at the western side. The weather remained poor and no one in their right mind would attempt the mountain crossing in the night. Avolio had to hold his tongue and wait for the following day to continue.
The injured man dismounted with the assistance of two of his friends. His ribs still appeared to be acutely painful – still healing from the beating he’d received two weeks prior. The pain caused him to turn deathly pale and lose his strength to stand. Amelia had him brought inside and put to bed immediately.
The cabin was a depot for the town’s supplies, having been brought up the west side of the mountain, stored here, and then brought down to the lake below in stages. Therefore it was well stocked. Food was in good supply and the beds were soft and warm. A hot meal and a comfortable place to lay their heads were welcome after the long and tiring climb that they had endured that day. 

***

Mitchell looked down the line of his pistol into the darkness. There was someone up there for certain, he detected movement. Mitchell waited for a few seconds before calling to the intruder.
“Hey! I can see you! Come down the ramp – slowly – keep your hands where I can see them.”
“All right, I am coming down.” The voice was familiar but seemed out of place here. The echoes which resounded through the Installation served to modify the voice sufficiently to disguise the owner from the young lieutenant. 
Joanna had heard it before too, many times. She pushed past, moving to the bottom of the ramp to meet the short, thin man descending with his hands held aloft, crying as she went. “Laydon!”
Mitchell lowered his weapon, sourly regarding the elder as he completed his decent to the storehouse floor. He signalled for the elder to lower his hands. “How did you get in here?”
From a bag that was slung over his shoulder the elder extracted a shiny, red-coloured metal band and threw it smugly to Mitchell, who caught it deftly. The elder had a key to this place. Emily had given him the key.
Joanna didn’t wait for Laydon to speak - she was in his arms in a heartbeat with her head resting on his chest. He patted her back protectively.
“I thought you might like to know what’s going on out there,” he told her gently.

The camp fire glowed warmly in the common room Mitchell and Joanna had shared for the previous two weeks. There was no need for torches or lamps, the fire easily provided enough light to see, the flames dancing patterns on the walls and roof. Mitchell had put together a simple luncheon, passing out the fare to his companion and guest.
He sat on one of the beds, his lunch in hand. “How long will they be gone do you think?” he asked.
“It is hard to say,” Laydon replied between mouthfuls. “They could be months, years, or if the worst happens: never.”
Mitchell looked concerned. “Are they really going to… you know… for what happened? I mean, we all know they didn’t do it – there can’t be anything that would tie them to the murder.”
“There was enough for the judges.”
Joanna was staring at them, the shock of the news must have hit home hard. She was quite likely to never see her son again - his life was in the hands of some unknown individuals. Slowly a tear formed in her eye and ran downwards. The light from the fire was caught in it, changing it into a pearl of pure fire, reflecting the pain that she felt within. Laydon saw it and moved to her side, placing a protective arm around her shoulders.
She cried for some time, her shaking body wrapped protectively inside Laydon’s arms. Mitchell withdrew some distance, embarrassed about the emotions they shared. Finally she pulled away, all cried out but sniffing uncouthly, her eyes red and swollen. She wiped her nose with her sleeve like a child.
“It’ll be all right,” Laydon said comfortingly. “It sounds a lot worse than it is.”
“Really?” she sniffed her question, “I don’t think it could be any worse.”
“No,” he disagreed. “Boyes and Amelia are with them and I think she is really in charge. The judges will see that soon enough. Justice will be done. Boyes will see to that.”
“I wish I shared your optimism.” Then she spoke to the air, to her son so far away: “Daniel, how did you get us mixed up in all of this?”
Laydon pulled her around so that she faced him, and he spoke to her, looking straight into her eyes. “Listen, I don’t know what is really going on here. I don’t know what’s going to happen to us in the future. But what is happening now, with these people, is going to affect our future, all our futures. Something is moving in our land, something big, and it’s moving in these people we’re mixed up in. This is big and we’re part of it. You know it too, you feel it. Whatever happens with Daniel and the others is part of that, it all leads somewhere. This is going to work out.” He smiled reassuringly. “Yes?”
She nodded, agreeing, but Laydon seemed to know what she was thinking. Perhaps it was written on her face. “You can’t go after them,” he told her. “They’re gone. Your place is here now.”
“But I’m helpless here,” she protested.
“No you’re not. You’re not helpless. You’re here for some reason. Find out what it is and do what you’re meant to do. Can’t you see, you have a part in all this. Find your part and live it. You think you have no purpose? You do.”
Her tears had stopped - his words had comforted and energized her. She nodded again then rested her head upon his shoulder. Mitchell quietly left them, climbing the ramp to the outside, breathing the cool night air. 

***

The weather was more promising the following morning. The rain clouds that had assailed them the previous two days had dispersed, their remnants were sitting on the southern horizon. The air was crisp and clear, providing a spectacular view of the lake below sparkling in the morning light. Jim breathed in the icy atmosphere in one long inhalation, causing his side to erupt in pain. He grasped the area and coughed, attracting the attention of Emily.
“Are you okay?” she asked him, concerned.
Jim wiped the cold sweat from his brow and straightened up. “Oh yeah,” he grunted, “…never better.” Then he confessed. “I think I’m taking things a little too fast.”
She looked at him disapprovingly, a look he had seen several times with the doctor. “You should know better,” she scolded, then threatened: “I’ll get Amelia.”
Jim’s blood went cold all of a sudden, he held out his hand to forestall her. “No, no…” he begged. “She’ll just boss me around. I can’t take that this time of morning. I’m fine, really.”
She shook her head, stepped down away from the entrance and left him to his pain.
The three horses were saddled and ready to ride. Delvore’s men were fussing around them, making sure everything was right. Jim suspected that despite how he had looked after those in his employ, the horses were worth more to Delvore and his family then the men that tended them. 
Avolio had a parchment sheet unrolled with lines crisscrossed on its surface. A map, Jim assumed. Amelia consulted what was printed there, making comments, pointing at features. Jim smiled. Amelia ran the show here.
Once again he was helped carefully up into the saddle. His ribs rubbed together mercilessly and he grunted at the exertion. Amelia watched, her brows drawn together in concern and disapproval. Jim’s plan to slow things down with feigned infirmity was becoming truth – he was still suffering the ill effects of the altercation two weeks ago. His only consolation was the thought that at least a few on those who attacked him got their comeuppance at the hands of bandits - or, he wondered, perhaps Mitch had dealt out some revenge. No. He was gone – sent to the installation. He wouldn’t risk his life – or Joanna’s – for this.
His musings were interrupted by the sharp tongue of the doctor. “Hello! Are you going to join us?”
He looked around him. The others were moving off, heading around to the back of the cabin towards the hills that rose behind it. Only Amelia stood with her hands on her hips, waiting for her patient.
“Ah, yes. Sorry,” he apologized.
He coaxed his mount into motion gently. He had ridden a few times before but he was no expert by any means. Fortunately the grey mare that was selected for him was intelligent (probably smarter than me – he thought) and knew to follow the others without any directional input from her rider. Jim sat in the saddle and was carried along, and was happy for it. At the very least he could enjoy the scenery without having to watch where he put his next step.
They rounded the hill behind the cabin an hour later, entering a valley edged by snow-topped ridges. The river ran through there, turbulent and noisy, cutting through the centre of the valley like a knife. The trail was wide and worn by the feet of thousands carrying goods, moving from place to place. Because of this they travelled quickly, picking up the pace but enjoying the mountain air and the spectacular view. The valley slowly closed in, each side slowly converging to a single point. The river turned to the right, moving through a narrow gorge cutting through the right wall. They passed through with it, the walls of the gorge looming over them. Without the warmth of the sun the temperature dropped quickly and they were forced to pull their coats tight around them. The river roared past them, filling their ears, making talk impossible. It ran with complete indifference to their presence.
The gorge opened up again into the sunlight, leaving them blinking against the glare. Climbing steadily upwards, it cut its way through a wide and gentle valley. There was little vegetation here. The ground was bare save for the smaller ground hugging plants found at these altitudes. Moreover there was nothing for the horses to eat and they snorted with derision. It was the handlers who had been walking to the rear of the party that called a halt. Pulling feed from their packs they allowed the horses to rest and eat. Jim rejected help, climbing down awkwardly, landing heavily on his feet and swearing loudly.
Amelia was ever present and critical. “There is no shame in accepting help you know.”
“I’m not going to get better if you all treat me like a baby,” he quipped.
She moved in next to him to speak so none of the others – and especially the judges – could hear. 
“Why are you in such a hurry?” she asked him tensely, “You know when we get to Trade Town these two…” She nodded to the judges, “…will try and have you all killed. Don’t think they won’t. It’s in your best interest to take as long as you can.”
“I know, I know,” he muttered back. “You don’t need to tell me. I’m just frustrated, is all.”
She put a hand on his shoulder. “I know you are. Listen, you’ve had a knock to the head that’s left you incapacitated for two weeks and you’ve got three cracked ribs. If I had my way you’d still be in bed, not travelling about on this mountain. Please, for my sake, don’t rush things.”
He smiled. “You’re the doctor.”
“Yes, I am.”
The others had stopped in a group on top of a shelf of rock and Jim struggled up to join them. Yellow pancakes were eaten and they sat quietly talking amongst themselves. The two judges sat apart, not talking to each other or to anyone else, staring out over the path ahead.
The food was consumed and they were off again, climbing with the river up to the top of the valley, following a long line of posts driven into the ground at regular intervals. Jim assumed they assisted travel when the weather worsened. As they climbed higher and higher, clumps of powdered ice began to appear in places on the ground, but there was never as much as Jim expected there to be at that altitude.
The sun sat high above them when they reached the top of the valley. The river was moving swiftly but it had lost a lot of its ferocity and they were able to cross it in relative safety. Jim was grateful his feet were high above the icy flow and he rode over comfortably while the others cursed the chilly water and pulled their boots off at the other side, trying to rub some warmth back into their numb, blue feet.
Some distance along the land started to drop back down. They had finally reached the summit and were looking down upon a field of rocks and clumps of snow. Beyond that there were ridges and rivers leading back down to the land on the western side. Avolio nudged his horse into motion and started down with the others following behind. Jim noticed that Boyes kept looking at the sky above, he suspected the weather changed quickly in this part of the world.
The pace, having being cut back somewhat, meant that they reached what Amelia called the ‘pond’ by mid afternoon. The small lake was clearly man-made and part of some collecting system from long ago. The horses took water but they stayed only for a few minutes. The sun was sinking lower with every passing hour and they did not have many hours left to reach the other side.
Some twenty minutes later the path started to drop down into another valley and to the land below. This valley contained a river as well, less ferocious than the one on the other side but running quickly nonetheless. The road travelled alongside it all the way down, crossing over small bridges that spanned creeks that fed into it at intervals. The light began to fade as the sun sank behind the western side of the valley. 
Avolio pushed them harder. It was all downhill and the ground was even and free of obstacles. With him almost cantering off down the slope, the others had to struggle to keep up with him.
The light faded almost to nothing and the only way they could see was by the glow from the moon that shone above. Avolio was forced to slow the pace to a walk again. He had no desire to have his horse stumble and fall with him after it.
The ground had levelled out so gradually that it was hardly noticeable, the valley turning into a flat area. The road still followed the river, its rush to the land below undeterred, after winding down the valley it now settled into the path along the rivers eastern bank. Suddenly turning right, they approached an old stone bridge which passed over the turbulent flow. It was then the Jim noticed a body of water further on. The river widened into another lake, dark and shimmering in the moonlight, that was lined with tiny lights. The population increased here. They were moving closer and closer to civilization.
Passing over the bridge and rounding a corner, there stood a line of houses, the outer edge of a township, their lights glowing in the darkness. There was a gap in the line, a gate that beckoned them into the town – into its circle of protection. They passed unmolested through, Avolio giving the guard at the gate a lofty look of position, pulling them all into light and activity.
The judge turned his horse around once they had reached the first square after entering the town. Having understood the meaning of the manoeuvre the group closed into a circle around him to wait for instructions.
“Stay together,” he commanded. “I’m guessing that most of you have never been here before and I don’t have a mind to go looking for some of you half the night if you get lost. We will need rooms for the night, and the place I prefer is a little way from here, so please keep up.”
Avolio looked about, getting his bearings. He started off to the left, into the heart of the town. Tobias nodded in the intended direction, indicating Jim should follow. The horse he was riding now seemed a little unsure and Jim nudged her, pulling the reigns to where he wanted her to go. She seemed confused and moved haltingly. A voice directly below and to the left instructed him.
“You’re confusing her,” Amelia explained. She gave a quick lesson and Jim was off again, a little better this time. 
Tobias had overtaken him and the others were moving off one after another. The houses in this town were larger than those in Watchers. These were two stories high and narrow. The streets between them were narrower too, some moving off into dark lanes which invited disaster. This was more than a town, this was a small city.
Without warning the narrow cobblestone road entered a square – much larger than the first – lined with even larger, more ornate dwellings. The passers-by here were more richly dressed and lacked the rustic charms of those in the poorer areas. Some regarded the ragtag group with distain, some with interest, but most ignored them completely.
After speaking to the other judge, Avolio moved off leaving them there in the square. Sammy began to shrug his pack from his shoulders but was halted by the remaining judge’s sharp command. 
“Keep you packs on!” he demanded sourly. “We will be on our way in a moment.”
He was proved right when Avolio returned only minutes later and beckoned them over to one of the tallest buildings at the other side of the square. A well lit laneway adjoined it, moving down to its rear, oil lamps hanging on posts leading their way as they were directed down.
Here the three dismounted, joining those on foot. Jim was stiff and sore from an entire day in the saddle and tried to stretch. He was not healing quickly enough for his liking, the act of recovery from the day bringing sharp pains in his chest which took his breath away. One of the two attendants Delvore had left with them was removing the pack from his mount and Jim nodded with thanks, unable to speak from the lack of air entering his lungs. Taking the pack from the attendant for his injured friend, Sammy shook his head at Jim’s predicament.
After checking the completeness of his party, Avolio led them into the rear of the building, which bore no correlation with the richness of the front. Here the brickwork was well-constructed but lacked the finish seen from the square. Once inside, it was evident that the house was very old. The wooden steps leading in were worn in the centre, the product of countless feet. The stone floor, old and stained, led onto floorboards, scratched with history. This was the service entrance to the house and the servants moved busily through the narrow halls carrying linen, food and other articles without even noticing the group pushing their way through. Only the judges looked out of place here, the others were road stained and weary, shuffling after them. 
At the end of the hall they were met by a more expensively dressed servant - the one in charge, Jim surmised - who directed them up narrow stairs to the floor above. Those who had walked across and down the mountain found the stairs one more harrowing climb – along with Jim whose head and side ached from exertion. The second storey arrived quicker than expected, and the stairs opened into a much wider hall lined with wooden doors. This passage was better appointed than below, obviously for the benefit of the guests that stayed there.
Leaving the servant’s stairs behind, the man at the lead directed them to their rooms: the judges together in one, the men in another and finally the two women at the end of the hall. 
Avolio held their attention before they went into the rooms for final instructions: “There are baths down that end of the hall - I think the ladies should use them first. Clean up quickly because the common is still open for supper, but not all night. I want us all clean, fed and in bed early - we still have a long way to go and we start again early tomorrow.
With that, he was in his room followed by the other judge, leaving the others standing there in the hall. Boyes opened the men’s room directing them in, leaving the ladies to inspect the bathing facilities in peace.

The baths were a welcome relief as they were warm and washed away the grime of the road. The temptation to lie luxuriously was resisted on the suggestion of the elder whose hunger outweighed his desire to be clean. Dressed in fresh clothes taken from their packs, the men descended to the common room – this time by the guest stairs – and found themselves seated along a long, rustic wooden table. The women had not yet arrived, Boyes suggesting that they took much more time in preparation than the males, so room along one of the long bench-chairs was left for them. Additionally, the judges had not chosen to grace the men with their presence as it was likely they had other arrangements.
The room was bright and loud. People laughed and sang and there was an abundance of food and drink – perhaps too much drink considering the quality of the singing. People in this part of the kingdom looked essentially the same as in the villages with the exception of a much richer style of clothing. The men themselves looked a little underdressed in this company but no one seemed notice or care. Perhaps the other patrons were far too drunk to do either. In the centre of the room was a large fire, surrounded by rocks that kept the fuel within its boundary. It crackled and flared adding a pleasant atmosphere and a smoky texture to the air. A huge metal flue descended from the roof, built of and supported by steel which had long ago lost it sheen.
Lewis was looking about intently - he was trying to discern how one might procure a meal. Moving chaotically about the room were several young women in aprons, carrying first full – then empty – plates made of pottery. “Couldn’t we try and get something to eat?” he suggested.
It was Boyes who answered. He did not look at the young man. He was looking instead to the doorway from which they came. “We’ll wait for the ladies.”
“But I’m hungry,” Lewis protested.
Boyes turned to him and regarded him evenly, “Do you want to tell my wife she is not important enough to wait for – or Emily for that matter?”
Lewis’s eyes opened wide. “No way,” he said with conviction.
The elder smiled blandly. “Smart boy...”
Jim leaned over to the elder, “Who’s paying for all this?” he asked.
Boyes leaned back leisurely. “The judges,” he declared with some satisfaction. “I assume they have to look after you if you’re under some judgment of theirs.”
Jim smiled wickedly. “That would annoy Tobias.”
“For certain... I don’t think they really care anyway. This place would just send a bill. Someone would pay it.”
“What about you and Amelia?”
Boyes smiled sweetly and Jim laughed. The elder and his wife were enjoying the free ride while it lasted.
Amelia at that moment appeared with Emily and was standing behind Boyes and Jim, speaking without a hint that perhaps she had heard her name used in the previous conversation. “I hope you haven’t ordered without us.”
“Of course not, love,” her husband said disarmingly, and then directed her to a place beside him. “Please sit.”
The men pushed the bench seat back so that she could fit in and Emily was only a few steps behind, climbing in next to the older woman.
“Finally,” Lewis sighed.
Boyes looked around at what was being served, pronouncing the menu. “I think it’s only the one thing. It looks like stew.”
The elder raised his hand above his head and waited for the attention of one of the serving girls. He did not have to wait long. A pretty, young lady stood with her hands on her hips, counting the group in her head.
“That’s seven then?” she asked for confirmation.
She turned to go but was halted by Lewis who tugged at her apron. “Sorry. Ah, what’s in the stew?”
She shrugged, pulling herself away. “How should I know? I just bring it out.” She was off again, this time unmolested.
“Great,” the young man grumbled, “…could be anything.”

The meal was hot and hearty. Meat was indeed floating in the stew along with unidentified vegetables. The Sleepers were getting gradually used to eating foods that they had never had before or could classify. The surprise came when Sammy suggested the origin of the meat being herbivore – possibly mutton – but definitely not reptile. 
Boyes leant back, almost forgetting there was no back to the bench, sighing contentedly. “Now that’s what I call cooking,” he said with much satisfaction.
Amelia did not look at him, instead rolled her eyes upward and spoke with resignation: “I am sitting right next to you, you know?”
Realizing his mistake, he sought to change the subject quickly – to a topic that was likely to land him in deeper waters. “I need a drink,” he announced. “Anyone else need a drink? Where’s that girl?”
Raising his hand, he looked through the room again.
“I’ll have one,” Jim said enthusiastically, only to be cut short.
“No you won’t…” Amelia declared firmly, her tone suggested negotiation was pointless. “You’ll have water.”
“Excuse me?”
“I’m your doctor – so this is doctor’s orders.”
None of his fellow travellers backed him up so he looked down with a surly expression and waited for his supper.
Boyes was having no luck but continued to try and draw others into his net. “Sammy?” he asked the big man sitting next to him.
“Ah, no thank you,” he declined with a smile, adding: “I don’t drink.”
“What?” the elder gasped. “What’s the matter with you?”
Amelia answered for him in a dry voice: “It may interest you to know there are people out there who don’t drink.”
Ignoring his wife, he moved on. “Daniel? Emily?”
It became evident that Boyes would be drinking alone until Lewis sat up. “I’ll have some,” he agreed.
Boyes smile broadly and would have slapped Lewis on the back if he could have reached. “Good lad.”
During this interaction a member of the serving staff had arrived and was waiting impatiently. Boyes gazed up to see her standing there and made the order. Sometime later the young woman arrived with two mugs of ale, a pitcher of water and cups. Boyes gleefully started on his ale, watching Lewis tentatively sniff then sip the foamy beverage.
It was probably stronger than what he was used to – and he was likely not a big drinker in the past – because Lewis’s spirits were improving dramatically by the time he reached the bottom of his mug. The second had an even greater effect and the third was firmly stopped by the doctor, reminding them both who was paying for the meal and the drinks. She suggested it would better not to worsen their situation by having the judges presented with a huge bill for the night.
Lewis had been probably mulling their situation over in his mind all night but needed the alcohol to allow it to splash out into the general conversation.
“Is all this strange to you, or is it just me?” he asked with a slight slur in his voice.
“Strange?” Emily replied. “What do you mean?”
“We’re under arrest right? So, where did the guards go?”
The group all looked at each other. They had thought of it individually but had been taking the lead from the elder and his wife. Lewis finally voiced what they had all been thinking at one point or another.
“Couldn’t we just…” he left the thought hanging, but they all knew what came next.
Boyes continued with his third ale but answered the question between gulps by specifying the consequences. “If you want to run off then be my guest, but the judges will have you caught and hung by the end of the week.” He drained the last of his drink and looked them all in the eye, one at a time, asking them: “Do you know where to hide? Who’s going to help you?”
Lewis looked back, slightly dazed but also shamefaced.
He stopped at Lewis and spoke to his deeper need. “I know what you’re thinking. You had better forget it now.”
Emily reached out and put her hand reassuringly on his arm. “You can’t help her. You would probably make things worse for her if you went back.”
Lewis hung his head. He probably had thought of going back to her, by himself if needs be, but now he’d realized what that would mean. He nodded wordlessly - the action implied that he agreed to remain with them.
“Running away would only prove your guilt,” Boyes continued. “Justice is swift here you may have noticed. Our only chance is following the path we’ve already set.”   

***

The patrons began to disperse some time after ten (according to Jim’s watch) and Boyes suggested they head for their beds. Already the staff were packing up for the night, cleaning and moving tables, hooking thin rope between the walls in order to hang clothing washed that evening. The fire in the centre of the room was re-fuelled and stoked ready to dry the washing that dripped on the stone floor. The manager of the common knew who they were – or rather who they were with – and nodded to them as they passed out into the wide hall which held the guest stairs to the second floor. There was activity there. Guests were moving back and forth to their rooms and to the bathroom, dressed in white gowns. The group had no such extravagant dress, only what they wore, but it was clean and dry. 
Almost half an hour later the hall was clear and all the doors were closed save for one. The judges had been out of the house that evening and had returned. Making use of the facilities after all the others had gone to bed, they were preparing for sleep. 

Avolio had returned from the bathroom wearing a nightshirt and a towel over his shoulder. What hair he had on his head was wet and dripping slightly. Sammy passed him on his way to his room and the big man smiled at him but it was not returned. The judge pulled the door closed. Instead of clicking shut it had swung back marginally – too small a gap to notice when going about the business of going to bed – but large enough to admit a small, thin line of light into the hall. Sammy saw it, but continued on to the bathroom at the end of the hall.
The servants moved through the passage, dimming the lamps as they went and descending the servant’s stairs. Now the only sounds that could be heard were the murmuring of voices within each room. Even those faded, all except one, from where the light emerged from the door that was ajar. They talked, thinking no one could hear them.
Sammy crept back to the room he shared with the other men, keeping quiet so as not to disturb the other guests. He was one door from his room when he heard voices. It wasn’t what was said that stopped him – he was no eavesdropper – but rather how it was said. For months now he had been speaking and listening to the local tongue and had even been starting to think in it. Hearing English now, in this place, took him by surprise - especially from the judge’s room. He had heard they knew it but had never heard it escape their lips.
“I am disappointed with you, Avolio,” Tobias was saying. “You and I had an agreement. You are known for your fairness – going back on a deal is not your style.”
“I only returned what you handed me,” Avolio replied tersely. “You gave me a promise and I did the same. Give me something to work with and then I can help you.” Avolio sounded annoyed.
“You want something?” There was a second or two of silence. “Are you going to come through this time?”
Avolio snorted. “I came through last time. How was I to know he would speak up like that? ‘Appeal’, who knows about Appeal?”
“I saw it in your eyes. You wanted them to appeal.”
“I admit it,” Avolio confessed. “I suspect they are not as guilty as you say they are. I did not want innocent blood on my hands. But if you were to help me – then I could speak for you in the hearing. Another voice on your side, Tobias, would help your case. Then the gathering would be responsible for the blood of these people – not you or me.”
Tobias sighed. “Very well - but I will have your word. You will back me in the gathering.”
“Of course…”
There was the sound of a chair moving, being scraped along the wooden floors. Tobias had sat down. “I have been doing some investigations for the Mharum Council, looking for subversives in the ranks. There are some minor members that we will deal with later, but we think we have found their leader. We have not been able to move on him yet, we do not have enough on him – although there may come a time when that will not be necessary and there will be an accident of some sort… but you might be able to solve that problem for us. You know the man I am talking about?”
Avolio’s voice was tense when he pronounced the name: “Spelg.”
“If your wife was to become caught up in it all – and then you…”
“What faction?” Avolio asked grimly.
“The ‘Flame’… If we remove him, then we can pull the whole thing down.”
Sammy gasped, stepping back from the doorway. He’d seen a flame shaped charm around Amelia’s neck.
There were footsteps coming his way, and Avolio’s voice could be heard approaching, “Wait… the door is open.”
Sammy turned and tip-toed quickly back into his room, barely having time to shut his own door behind him. Outside he imagined Avolio’s head looking out the open door, squinting up and down the hall in the dark for signs of anyone hiding in the passage. He had not been seen, as Sammy heard the judge’s door being shut firmly and there was no consequences to his snooping. He laid his back against the door and exhaled deeply.
So, there was a deal made to convict them – justice had been denied them. He knew he should have been angry about it, but somehow he wasn’t. Deep down he knew what had transpired and the two judges had merely confirmed it.
Now there was something else. Something he knew was even more important. Amelia was caught up in something – at least if she wasn’t yet, it was only a matter of time.

Chapter Twenty-One

Morning seemed to come quickly. It was still dark when their door was swung open loudly, followed by curt instructions from the judge, Avolio. When it was slammed behind him, they all sat up with a groan, swinging their legs out of their cots and standing – truly believing that once on their feet, they would remain that way until night fell again.
They were already dressed, having slept in the clean clothes taken from their packs the night before. They exited their room to find the common room again for breakfast. 
The women were dressed and ready (although the men suspected Avolio would not have woken them in the same manner) and they seemed almost jumping to meet the day. Emily no longer wore the dress she had been given before leaving the cell. She had changed into the utilities that had been taken from the Installation. They were no doubt an oddity to the washing staff but were cleaned nonetheless. Her feet were contained in the heavy boots that she had worn across the plain that first time and they clumped down the stairs as she took the lead to the common room.
The judges were nowhere to be seen. They had breakfasted early and gone out to attend to the business of the day. Leaving the front entrance and entering the warm morning sunshine, the seven joined the two judges in the centre of the square.
There was another man with them, standing and talking with animated gestures, his light blue robe flowing with every movement. Stopping some ten steps from the discussion the group waited.
Finally the curiosity got the better of Jim and he asked: “What’s that all about?”
Boyes, initially paying no heed to the man, turned and regarded him. “That’s the ‘Arbitrator’.”
Jim frowned. “Arbitrator…?”
Boyes seemed a little out of sorts that morning. He didn’t drink much the night before so it could hardly be a hangover. Perhaps he had not slept well. He explained: “The ‘Arbitrator’ arbitrates.”
Jim blinked slowly and Boyes was forced to elaborate with a deep sigh. “The Merchant’s Company owns everything on the trade lines, the boats, the roads, everything. They control everything and everybody along the line – even the judges, who they don’t seem to like very much. We’ll need to get a boat to the south end of the lake and they have one. We’ll need to fix a price for transport and they’ll bargain very hard. The price changes with all sorts of factors – including how desperate we are to travel. 
“This man – the ‘Arbitrator’ – works for us. He gets the best price he can – after he adds his fee – and it’s all settled. Avolio is probably organizing not just the transport, but supplies and food.”
The process seemed to take a long time and ended with the Arbitrator scurrying off into the crowds that were starting to mill in the square. Avolio marched over to the waiting group and informed them all of the arrangements.
They waited.
The sun rose higher into the sky, banishing the crisp morning air and making them sweat under their coats. By eight it was warm enough to remove them. Even the judges pulled theirs off, now wearing only simple trousers and shirts. Only the necklaces around their necks, a simple black coloured disc threaded onto a leather line, identified their position.
The Arbitrator returned, scurrying again through the crowd, which was now bustling madly through the square to and from the narrow roads that fed into it. Finding Avolio sitting patiently in the centre, there transpired another animated discussion. They had waited the best part of the morning and it was likely that any counter offer from the Company would be accepted in order to facilitate a speedy departure from the town.
Finally they shouldered their packs and followed the little man to the docks. There was no sign of the horses. They were being ridden back to Delvore’s estate over the mountain.
The docks appeared exactly as expected. Dirty, smelly and noisy. Several small vessels were moored there, along with many out on the lake. Their boat was tied down at the end of the dock. It was some fifteen paces long, four wide and had a singular mast. 

There was no stateroom on the boat. This vessel was built for quick trips. The day showed great promise for fair weather, and there would be no necessity for shelter from the elements. The group dropped their packs in a neat pile at the stern, waiting for the vessel to be cast off and go to sail.
There was enough wind for the boat to make steady headway under half sail. Some distance out they made a graceful turn to port, the captain calling orders over the boat.
It was that point that Jim noticed the judge Tobias stalking down the deck to his colleague at the stern. There ensued a heated discussion which ended with Tobias returning to his original vantage point and Avolio watching him depart. Jim detected the faint hint of a sly smile on the judge’s lips. Obviously the direction Avolio had planned did not sit well with Tobias, and he seemed to be taken by surprise by it. Regardless of other judge’s opinion, the vessel continued on its way, and Avolio demonstrated that he was in charge of things. Tobias stayed against port rail, scowling out to the lake, remaining there for the duration of the journey. 
In the centre of the southern part of the lake the wind increased and so did their speed. The land moved past in a steady procession as they moved westward and then turned again to the south. Then the lake closed in, forming a valley with a river which flowed from the south, gradually narrowing and becoming progressively shallower.
Their pace slowed with the sails being trimmed and they continued for a while until finally the river widened and an old wooden dock came into view. Behind the dock sat a large hut, a station owned by The Company to handle goods from the lake to the towns further south. Men who worked at the camp now lined the dock, tying the narrow vessel down with thick ropes and beginning to unload some of the cargo.
The sun had slowly risen above them. The protestations of their bellies told them it was time for lunch but they had to wait for another hour as Avolio finalized the arrangements of their transportation and collected the supplies needed for the next leg of the journey. He leant out of the doorway of the large house which sat a short distance up from the river bank, beckoning them up and in.
 
***

The sun was slowly moving down into the west and the shadows slowly lengthened out over the plain as Laydon sat pondering how the circumstances of his life had changed. Previously he was content, a respected elder in his village. He had resigned himself to this life and also to being alone. He had not become close to anyone after his wife had died. It had been three years and he had not been ready to pursue another, content to continue his bachelor life until his death.
Then the tall people came and turned his life upside down. Now he was sitting in front of a place he would never have dreamed to have come, seeing things that he could not comprehend and walking a path he did not understand. Somewhere deep inside he knew he was taking his place in something grand and enormous. He just wished he knew what it was.
He had been there two days and in that time he found that he did know something. He knew that whenever he was with her his heart pounded in his chest like a young man in love. They had only really touched twice. He’d held her in his arms both times, her face resting on his chest, wetting his shirt with her tears. That touch, offered in sympathy, respect and friendship, was electric. Somewhere he knew, deep in his heart, that it was right. This was what he had been waiting for. This was what he was meant to do – to love her.
This was also a problem. He had no idea if she felt the same way. He looked at her and the pain inside him would become almost unbearable. She had to love him. He would die if she didn’t.
Even before she made a sound he knew she was behind him. He could feel her with every part of his being. He called to her silently, deep inside him, without words. 
When she did answer, it came in the form of a question. “Mitchell is closing the door for the night. Are you coming in?”
Looking up at her, he grinned foolishly, it was all he could do. “I’d hate to be locked out.”
She offered her hand to pull him up. He stared at it for a moment, and then took it in his, feeling a tingle that made his hair stand on end.
They came close together, almost intimately, then they drew away, not quite letting go. She held his hand tight.
“Thank you for coming here, for being here with me,” she said.
“I’d do anything for you, Joanna, you know that.”
“Do you have to go back?” she asked with a hint of sadness.
“I don’t trust Carl,” he sighed, “I have to try and stop him from making a complete mess of the town. With Boyes away it is all up to me.”
She lowered her face to the ground, almost shyly. His heart lurched in his chest. “I will be back,” he said adamantly. “I promise I’ll be back.”
From down below there came a shout and it jolted them back to reality. Letting go Joanna turned and headed into the dark opening of The Stairs and Laydon sighed again. 
Another opportunity lost.
He followed her into the darkness, leaving the sky to deepen into red.

***

Jim regarded the leader of their march with something approaching respect. Avolio, if nothing else, was an organized man. They were well provisioned, had warm, fresh clothes and, most importantly were all on horseback. They rode in single file, along the well-marked trail to the top of the hills. The judges went first, then Jim, and then the others behind. 
Leaving just after lunch, the climb took the remainder of the daylight. Now it was darkening quickly and Avolio was searching for a place to camp for the night. So it was that in a sheltered grove of short trees the group dismounted and prepared their camp.
In addition to the nine that left the inn that morning, two more rode with them. Avolio introduced them as Byrne and Genty. They were short and heavy set, used to trouble and who knew how to deal with it when it came along. They were men of few words and in no time at all they had built a satisfactorily large fire and were constructing rudimentary shelters made from wooden poles, ropes and canvas material. They were not quite tents - but they would keep the weather at bay.
Jim sat down in front of the fire and held his aching side, probing the area for signs of improvement and finding none. Amelia was assembling an apparatus for hanging a small pot for cooking. Soon the contents of an earthenware jar were emptied into the pot and were bubbling under flame. The doctor stood over it, constantly stirring and watching Jim through the corner of her eye as he continued to play with the bindings around his chest. He reached around to the back.
“Where is the start of this thing?” he muttered to himself with frustration.
“Leave it alone, Jim,” she told him firmly.
Jim looked up at her and started to protest, hoping that a little whining would go a long way. “This is so tight I can’t breathe,” he complained, begging, “…at least let’s loosen it a little.”
Amelia did not look back at him - she gazed into the pot and kept stirring. “You know what it is there for and you know it needs to be tight, so stop playing with it.” Then she added for good measure: “…and don’t sulk.”
Jim looked offended. He never sulked. He stood and grumbled his way over to where the men were preparing their beds. 
Boyes was unrolling his blanket under the shelter.
“Does she ever lose an argument?” Jim asked him, pointing back to the campfire.
“Who’s that?” he asked, not looking up.
“Your wife,” Jim specified. “Does she ever lose?”
Boyes looked up then over to the doctor, chuckling, “Amelia? No - not against me anyway...” Then his expression became serious. “Come to think about it, not against anyone.”
“Can’t you talk to her? This bandage is killing me.”
Boyes looked up and then laughed at Jim’s expression of pain.
“It can’t be that bad.”
Jim gave him the impression that it went well beyond that.
The elder shook his head dismissively. “Don’t get me involved in this. If she tells you to do something – or not to do something – then you’d better listen. Thirty summers has taught me that. Just do as you’re told and you’ll get along fine.”
Jim sighed with resignation, and looking back at the doctor. This was going to be a long trip.

Amelia called not long after, spooning soup into small bowls and passing them around. The soup was watery but strangely filling when it was mixed with the bread Boyes sent around the circle. Already the days together served to bring them closer, and each night they spoke more and shared more. The nights seemed less dreary. Jim stood when his bowl was empty and moved next to Avolio.
“What’s next, Your Honour?” he asked.
“I assume you mean: what are our plans now?” The judge had adopted a somewhat lofty tone.
“Yes, that.”
“Tomorrow we keep going that way…” He pointed to the west. “These hills keep going for almost a day’s ride then down to the flats. It is then another day’s ride to Trade Town. The council will hear your case in two days time – hopefully.”
Boyes chimed in a few seconds later – time enough for him to make a quick calculation. “That is a fairly fast pace, Avolio. Need I remind you that one of us is injured?”
“I’ve watched him today,” Avolio replied, looking Jim over head to toe, “…he’ll be able to keep up.”
Amelia had her arms folded over her chest and regarded the judge disapprovingly. “Surely that is up to me to decide.”
“I told you both before we started: I will have these people there in five days.”
Amelia shook her head. She was not convinced. “We shall see,” she told him.

***

Daniel felt soft and gentle hands pushing on his shoulders, rocking him gently from blissful slumber. A voice he had not heard for some time whispered in his ear, drawing him into awareness, calling to his memory
Daniel. Daniel.
He opened his eyes slowly. He struggled to focus on the face before him, and it soon became clear to him that he might still be asleep. The face was familiar – and it matched the voice. It was also impossible.
Daniel.
He closed his eyes again, holding them shut for several heartbeats and opening them again. The face remained – and it smiled.
Raising himself up on his elbow and shaking his head he fought for the words to speak. Finally all he could do was say her name. A name he had strove to forget in countless intoxicated nights.
“Marianna?”
She did not speak but simply smiled broadly. She seemed pleased that she was not forgotten after all. He started again, asking something else: “Marianna, what are you doing here?”
He was not dreaming. There he was in the camp they had set up the night before, high over the river they had sailed down. His friends were there, asleep under their shelters, in their blankets. The fire still crackled, spitting sparks into the night sky. Sammy sat with his back to them, keeping watch while they slept. He seemed not to hear what was going on behind him. Or perhaps he didn’t care.
She sat back on the ground and continued to regard him, a shy, almost devious smile on her face. Daniel was waiting for her reply, but it did not come. He repeated his question in a forced whisper lest he wake the others, urgent for an answer. She spoke again.
“Hello Daniel.”
He pressed her: “What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to give you something.”
“What is it?”
“Get up.” She stood herself. “I’ll show you.”
She walked gracefully over to where the others were sleeping. Daniel peeled back his blanket, climbed out from under his shelter and followed her, walking quietly over the cold ground. She stopped in front of Amelia and waited for Daniel to arrive at her side. The healer lay on her back and was breathing serenely, seemingly unaware of their presence standing over her.
Marianna kneeled down over the sleeping form, reached in and pulled out the pack that was sitting next to the healer. Daniel found himself holding his breath – expecting Amelia to wake at any moment – but she did not. Breathing steadily, she remained in blissful slumber.
Working at the straps Marianna had the top of the bag open. Clothes poked out from the top. 
Daniel hissed a warning to the visitor: “We shouldn’t be doing this. This isn’t right.”
Marianna smiled benignly, plunging a hand into the bag and fishing about in its contents. “It’ll be all right, Daniel,” she said reassuringly. “My mother won’t wake. Ah…” She smiled in triumph. “…here it is.”
He whispered urgently, looking at the sleeping forms around them. “Keep your voice down.”
Marianna held her hand tightly. She was holding something within it. There was a string hanging out from the sides of her fist, looping down under her hand and back up to the other side, a string of thin black leather thong. Daniel looked down, unable to take his eyes from the closed hand before him.
“Look…” she said, slowly turning her hand over and opening it. The object caught the light from the fire, reflecting the warm, red light up into his face. Flames from the fire danced over the metal image held in her palm. There in this hand sat a charm, a red metal shape.
A Flame.
He gasped.
She smiled again. “I want you to have it,” she told him, extending her open palm to him, offering its contents.
He knew what the image meant, and he knew what would happen if he was caught with it – especially in his current company. Recklessly, he reached out to take it from her, but she closed her hand to him, forcing him to look up again, bewildered by her change of heart.
“You know what it will mean if you take it?” she asked him, the warning evident in her voice.
Daniel set his face with determination and nodded. “I do.”
She smiled and lowered her eyes, directing his gaze downwards. Her hand was open again. He took the piece - it felt small and cold in his palm, but seemed to glow with an inner radiance.
Without warning there was a shout from behind him. He had barely any time to turn and see its source. The dark figure moved with swift purpose, a shiny blade held out in front poised to strike.
Daniel tried in vain to block the lunge but he was not fast enough. The blade sped past his body narrowly missing him and in a fraction of a heartbeat he knew he was not the target. Now the cry of a woman mixed with that of the assailant and Daniel knew that the blade had hit its mark. He only had a moment to turn his head, enough time to see the weapon buried half way to its hilt into Marianna’s chest on the right side. Around the wound blood began to ooze, slick and red, running down the front of her white linen dress. She staggered back one, two steps and fell to her knees. Paralysed, Daniel stood aghast at the violence before him. The blade was pulled clear and the assassin was gone, but Daniel cared nothing for him. She coughed, blood splattering out over the ground. Daniel cried out her name, dropping to his knees to grab her before she fell. Already her breathing was shallow and laboured, she was fading fast.
Now he had no desire to keep quiet. He called out. The healer, she needed her mother. Her eyes were clamped shut, her breathing irregular. Frustrated he tried again. He called out to Amelia, to them all, but no one came, no one stirred. She was pale, her breathing was but shallow gasps. Blood ran from down the side of her mouth, onto her neck. Her bright blue eyes stared up at him, still clear, begging him. Her long blond hair now hung in clumps down her back, caked and clogged in red sticky threads like rope. Blood oozed in a steady flow from her chest but weaker than before, his hand covered the wound but he could not stop the flow from coming from between his fingers in thick spurts. Her blood was on him, on his hands and his shirt.
She smiled weakly as the life ran out of her, speaking quietly now as she could hardly draw breath into her chest. “Daniel,” she pronounced, seeming to be admonishing him, “you’ll have to move quicker next time.”
“I’m sorry,” he cried. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t save you.”
“I know,” she gasped between ragged breaths, “but there is one you can save.”
“I don’t understand…”
She smiled and she still looked beautiful despite the trickle of blood running from her lips. “You will, my love.”
Her eyes fluttered, she gasped with pain and a tear ran down Daniel’s cheek. She was almost gone and at that moment a distant memory came to him. Before a time of days spent drinking to oblivion, days when he was happy - before that day.
Daniel whispered into her ear, he hoped she could still hear him. “You know you are already dead?”
She heard him. Unable to smile this time, she spoke only a few words - her last words. “No one really dies,” she told him weakly, “…they just move on.”

Daniel awoke with a start. Sitting up quickly from his bed he shook his head, the vision of the woman still before his eyes. Sweating under his blanket he pulled his legs out and freed himself, cooling in the frigid air of the night.
“Bad dream?” Sammy asked, still sitting in front of the fire, blanket wrapped about him, his head turned towards his friend.
“Yes,” Daniel sighed, agreeing. “Bad dream.”
“Sit here. I wouldn’t mind the company.” Sammy pointed to log next to him in front of the fire. 
Throwing more wood onto the blaze he sat down, wrapping the blanket around his back.
“Do you want to talk about it?” the large, dark skinned man asked.
Daniel shuddered from cold and memory. “Not really.”
“Alright, we can talk about something else.”
Sitting for quite some time, staring into the fire, the two said nothing. It was not an uncomfortable silence - there was simply nothing to say. Daniel was engaged in an inner battle, thinking through the things he had seen and the things he had learnt. He decided to ask the question which he had believed the most pertinent: “What do you think happens after we die?”
Sammy whistled. “I think Jim would say that you just ‘came out swinging’.”
Daniel looked at him oddly. This was no answer. Sammy took his look to indicate his lack of understanding. “You’ve come out with a very deep question.”
Sammy looked up at the stars, trying to draw inspiration from them.
“I believe in the soul,” the big man said finally, “…the soul is us, who we are. We love – and hate – with the soul. This…” He pointed to his chest, “…is just a wrapper, a covering, nothing more. Our wrapping is torn, it’s ripped off, and it’s burnt – but our soul… it lives on. That’s what I believe.”
“I don’t know what I think.”
“But you are thinking about it though, and that’s what matters.”
Daniel looked over to the sleeping judges, together but away from the others. They had not stirred all that time. “We aren’t supposed to think about these things. We’re told: we live, we die and that’s it.”
Sammy frowned. “I don’t think there would be any point to life if that’s all there was. I’d like to know there is some point to it all.”
“But there is a reason for this life, isn’t there?” Daniel asked hopefully, “There is a point to these things we are doing. I know it, I’ve seen it. I don’t understand it, but I know it.”
“Then you do know what you believe then,” Sammy said with a smile. “You believe there is something to all this.”
“Maybe you are right…” Daniel conceded, and looked to the judges again, “but I’m not going to say that too loudly.”

***

The following day progressed with plodding uniformity. After rising, taking breakfast and packing up their camp, the group headed out into the hills along the narrow path which Avolio followed. He had changed his clothes for the day, choosing tough leather pants and a jacket, not dissimilar to that worn by the men he had employed. If he was expecting trouble, he did not mention it.
He kept a steady pace, always keeping them moving, insisting they spend only a short time eating and attending to basic needs. By lunchtime they had covered a good distance and were close to seeing the end of the relentless climbing and descending that characterized the journey that day. The sun sank as the group left the last of the smaller hills that flowed gently out into a valley. 
Avolio pulled his horse up quickly. Behind him, the line halted. The judge held his hand up for silence and continued to gaze forwards intently, looking and listening.

***

Laydon struggled up the hill, panting at every step. He was tired after his day long trek through the plain. Leaving The Stairs that morning he travelled back along the track that had been marked out by boots and wheels from previous expeditions. His feet were tired - they were old and not used to such exertion, and his heart was heavy. He didn’t want to leave Joanna but there was a necessity to be back at the village. Someone had to keep a close eye on the new, young Delvore. 
Unfortunately, that was him.
The lights in the houses beckoned him onward and upward to his home. Mentally he began calculating how long it would be before he would make the crossing again. Soon, he told himself.
The track wound up the side of the hill and into the village. One more corner and he would be there. As he rounded it he saw something that blocked the road. Not something, not someone but a group of people. As he approached he saw the very man he returned to keep watch over. Now it seemed Laydon would not have to look far to find him.

***

Jim stood up in his stirrups, trying to see at what Avolio was doing and then turned to Boyes, his voice tight with concern, putting words to Avolio’s instincts: “Something’s not right.”
“What do you think it is?” Boyes whispered back tensely.
“I don’t know…” Then he had a thought, “Get the guys to circle the ladies. I’ll go and see what happening.”
Jim’s riding had improved over the last two days and he was able to tell his mount what he wanted. Cantering up to the front Jim joined the two judges.
“What’s happening?” he asked them quietly.
Avolio commanded silence and continued to listen.
Out of the bushes just ahead four men appeared. They seemed to flow out of the scrub like they were part of it. Carrying light but deadly swords they advanced menacingly on the three. Jim yelled to the back, turning his horse to see. They needed no warning, meeting a similar reception as those at the front.

***

Carl walked slowly to the elder who stood waiting in the centre of the road. 
“Good evening, your eldership. It is a lovely night,” he said, in a way that should have been pleasant, but there was no such tone in his voice.
Laydon sensed the insult embedded in the greeting. He stood his ground.
“What is it Carl?” he asked tersely. “I’m tired and hungry and I’m not in the mood for games. What’s with this gathering?”
Carl looked over his shoulder at his men, standing nervously behind him. “Them? Oh, they are here in case there is any trouble.”
“Are you expecting trouble?”
“I don’t know… should I expect trouble?”
Laydon frowned, confused. “Not from me…”
“Good.” Carl waved his men forward and they advanced slowly on the elder who looked nervously at the approaching squad. “If you would be kind enough to come with us we will get this all cleared up.”
“What cleared up?” They were all around him now.
“You’ve been consorting with criminals. You didn’t think you could just do whatever you wanted and not have me find out about it, did you?”
“Am I under arrest, Delvore?”
“Lord Delvore,” corrected the young man, “…and yes, you are. I have a very nice room prepared just for you, with a lovely view of the sky…”

***

With a steely ring Avolio drew his sword and issued a challenge. He knew of these men. They killed their victims in order to steal their belongings. There would be no surrender. This was going to be short, ugly and very likely, deadly.

Part 2: Betrayal

Chapter Twenty-Two

Jim’s attention was called back to the front. Avolio re-issued his challenge, holding his sword out in front of him. Two became five, slowly and silently advancing on him. Jim was unarmed and defenceless and only Avolio seemed up to the challenge. Tobias had left them - retreating back to the rear but the sound of hooves rapidly approaching gave him hope. One of the men Avolio had hired, Genty his name, was coming to the front.  He stopped at Jim’s side, offering a short sword. Looking at it speculatively, Jim wondered just what he was going to do with it.
His delay suggested to the mercenary that Jim was reluctant. He offered a suggestion, indicating at the pointed end of the blade. “That’s the dangerous end…”

***

Digging his heals into his horses’ flanks - Genty was off at a gallop towards the leading assailants. This was what he was hired for – what he did best. His job was to shed blood if needs be, lot’s of it preferably, and he did it well. His mount was well trained too, not afraid to ride down a man, which was the fate of the first bandit in the line. Avolio wasted no time in joining him, spurring on his own horse and calling loudly as he went.
Having trampled the first, Genty faced up to the second who slashed wildly at his horse’s face. His mount reared up suddenly, and he hung on desperately, trying to regain control. Avolio was taken by surprise as well, finding himself thrown back and off, landing solidly on the hard, worn track.

***

Jim slid ungraciously off his mare, turning her around and sending her back down the track past the others. He was armed but had no idea what to do and in three steps he was standing over the winded judge, staring at two determined looking bandits.

***

Genty’s associate, Byrne, was at the rear in a difficult situation. None of the other men were armed or trained so he faced off three bandits alone. The women were held in the centre of a tight circle, defended by the men of their group holding thick branches – but these were no match for swords. Moments earlier he had ordered them to dismount, thus being on foot made it easier to defend themselves - commanding them to release their horses back down the track where they had come.
The three surrounded them, yelling at them to surrender but offering no hint that their safety was guaranteed if they did. One lunged and his first attack was easily blocked. Almost by magic, a heavy gash appeared over his left arm and blood started to flow freely down his arm. Thus deterred, the injured man stepped back, joining the other two. They seemed to understand that this party was not as easy to take as first thought. They were preparing to attack again, this time in concert and the rear group would not survive such an attack, even with the skills of one such as Byrne. They would need help, and very soon.

***

Genty had regained control, moving forward again to the two bandits remaining in front. Turning to the left suddenly, his sword slashed down with ruthless efficiency. His opponent was skilled, being able to block each stroke, but not skilled enough. Genty left no openings for counterattack, wearing down the man, pushing him back away from his support and after six strokes he had hacked him down.

***

Avolio was sitting up now. Though it was ragged and shallow, his breath was coming back. He knew there was no time to waste, using his sword to stand even though the effort was painful and breath taking. Jim knew he was on his feet but didn’t turn to see. His attention was ahead of him. The first of the two took the intervening steps between them, holding his blade up and ready to attack. 
Jim knew he had no hope, this man was used to using these sharp implements and Jim was only good with his fists and feet – very good – but it wasn’t enough. As in times past, when his attention was focused to a fine point, all things around him disappeared – all sights, all sounds. His vision tunnelled to that what was directly in front, every subtle movement, every move of the opponent’s eyes; every shift in balance was seen and registered. More then that, these factors were all assessed rapidly, moving through his unconscious mind and processed and with speed and grace the response was already in progress when the attacker moved, a block, a lock, a counter-attack.
Now, at that desperate time, Jim’s mind move automatically into that same process. His attacker shifted to his front foot, brought his arm back to swing. Jim judged the trajectory, his sword moving to the position where it would be, to the left side of his chest and waited. It came a second later, the man had committed to the stroke, surprised that it was blocked so quickly, equally surprised that Jim’s right foot met his left side just under the ribs. He stumbled back, some of the resolve knocked out of him but his face registered alarm as his head suddenly became separated from his body. Genty had galloped by, swinging his blade neatly through the man’s neck.
Jim looked down at the head rolling about near his feet and shuddered, muttering quietly to himself: “Well, that took all the fun out of it.”

***

His breath now returned, Avolio met the second man, and advanced menacingly. There was no attack by the bandit this time. This man knew his fellows were dead or dying, and he sought only to defend and then retreat, but this was not to be. Avolio was not as skilled as Genty, but he was good, easily better than his opponent who faltered against a relentless attack until he was down, sliding off the judge’s blade onto the hard earth.

***

With a nod the three moved in again, this time for the kill. Byrne knew he could not take them all on, as they were now moving in from different directions. He was hoping he could deal with the one in front him and then the other two in succession before they killed too many of the others of his party. Time was critical, he wasted no time on the usual niceties, wasted no time waiting for his opponent to make the first move. He attacked with ferocity, hacking down the man in three strokes. This man fell quickly, his body sliced down on his right shoulder, cutting deeply into his chest. He was dead before his body hit the ground.

***

Daniel and Sammy faced the second of them, swinging their sticks madly, hoping to bide some time until help came. Their sticks were becoming rapidly shorter with each second and it seemed their time was growing as short as their weapons. They did not see Byrne move in behind their assailant, plunging his blade into the man’s back. 
Stiffening suddenly, he fell to his knees, Byrne appearing behind him with a bloody sword in his hand and a cold and satisfied grin on his face.

***

Tobias and Lewis faced the third with the two women and Boyes at their backs. Tobias had no weapon of any kind and he held his hands up in supplication, waiting for the inevitable. In seconds the one they faced fell, Genty bringing his blade down, slicing into flesh and bone easily, and riding on past the stunned women huddled in the centre. He pulled his horse up, turning to survey the carnage that lay behind him.

***

Daniel stood aghast, watching the bandit who had up to this point held their lives in his hands, fall slowly sideways. He lay on his side now, moving slowly as the life flowed out of him. He was finally still and Byrne nudged him a few times to be sure of his demise. Daniel looked on in horror, unable to move or to speak until heard a sound that brought up from his memory visions or blood, sorrow and loss. The cry he had heard before – an angry cry, a cry full of resolve and also of resignation. Without quite knowing why, he was in motion - moving towards the sound, to where the front of the procession had been.

***

Avolio stood over his last victim, spending perhaps too much time there. He knew there was another somewhere near, holding back, waiting for the opportunity. Now it came. Avolio had not turned to face the last of them, something he should have done once he had dispatched his first opponent, and when he heard the cry of attack he knew he did not have time to react, certainly had no time to defend.
Strangely, standing there defenceless, there was none. Now he had time to turn, to see. Daniel stood between himself and the last man, his head back in pain. The bandit withdrew his dagger, letting Daniel fall, the delay proving fatal. Avolio skewered him through the neck as Daniel fell out of the way.
The silence that permeated the next few moments or so seemed endless. No one moved. Standing as they did amongst the blood and the bodies, the horror that had occurred in such a short time, hit them hard.
Daniel had fallen to his knees, blood appearing on his shirt. His face had grown pale and eyes were rolling back. Avolio stood over him looking down, his arm extended, holding the dagger which had a dead man at its end. He pulled it back quickly, releasing its victim, allowing him to fall. Daniel was on his side now, lying on the ground, no longer aware of anything.

***

It was the women who moved first, standing and pushing their way through the men, stepping around the dead and dismembered. Amelia knew what she needed to do immediately. Her training came to the fore: ignoring the deceased, concentrating on the living. Emily moved around in the centre of their defensive circle, turning about on her heel, surveying their situation.
She knew someone had to take charge - someone had to take charge fast. All of them were stunned into silence, so she didn’t need to shout. “Is anyone else hurt?” she asked them all urgently.
The men still remained motionless, unable to comprehend and reply. She raised her voice to break through to them. “Is anyone else hurt?”
All nodded save Jim who had fallen to one knee, holding his side, with pain on his face.
“Sammy,” she called to the big man, “…help Jim over to Amelia.”
The doctor was over at Daniel’s side, her hand pressed hard over his chest, blood oozing from his wound. Sammy was moving, taking Jim under his arm and hauling him to his feet, almost dragging him over to her side.
Emily turned again, looking for more that needed to be done. Only one of them remained on horseback. Only one horse remained.
She pointed to Lewis and Tobias who remained near the centre of the defensive circle, then to the path back down where they had come. “You two… the horses, get them.”
Lewis turned but Tobias stayed still, incredulous that he had been ordered about by a woman. Lewis grabbed his arm, pulling him back down the path they had come by and they disappeared into the fading light.

***

Genty was off his mount, tying her to a nearby tree and returning to the centre. His sword was still dripping with the blood of the fallen and needed cleaning. Kneeling down to one of the victims he checked if life remained then wiped the evidence of death onto its clothing. Byrne saw no point in checking for life in the nearest body to him, it was clearly extinct. Cleaning his own weapon, he extracted the old, notched short sword of his enemy, passing it to Boyes who stood watching with horrified fascination.

***

Emily was up to Avolio in five quick steps, grabbing him by the front of his shirt which was splattered with the blood of the bandits he had killed. Bending slightly to speak right into his face she gave in clear directions: “Take Boyes,” she commanded, “…find us somewhere to hide.”
He blinked, slowly the words she had spoken connected in his brain. She did not wait for reply, yelling at him: “Move!”

***

Daniel was still alive. The hole in the right side of his chest was wide and deep, just under his collarbone. His bleeding had stopped and Emily assumed that was a good thing. The concern of Amelia’s face told her otherwise.
“How is he?” she asked the doctor.
“He’s alive,” Amelia replied grimly, “but I don’t know for how long…”
Amelia lowered her head to his chest, listening. When she raised her head again, he cheek was streaked with his blood. She pronounced her diagnosis.
“His lung is collapsed. That’s not good.”
“We need to move him,” Emily informed her. “We can’t stay here. Can we do that?”
The doctor regarded the young woman. “If you say we need to, then we need to. We’ll just have to work it out.”
Emily turned to go, to plan other things, when Amelia grabbed her ankle, grabbed her attention.
“He can’t walk,” Amelia informed her, “…we’ll need to carry him.”
Emily nodded her understanding, already starting to search out someone who could assist. Sammy was there with Jim, checking him for further injuries. Emily’s did not need to raise her voice to speak to them, the area was deathly quiet.
“Sammy! We need a stretcher.”
He was standing, and Jim tried to do likewise. “I’ll help,” he offered.
“You’re hurt.”
“Nothing new,” Jim gasped at the effort. “I just pulled something.”
Jim prodded his side and winced with sharp, acute pain, drawing a disapproving shake of the head from the young woman giving the orders.
Now there was time to wait. The horses were being searched for – and hopefully found and returned – they were locating a place to run to, away from the blood and mangled bodies. A stretcher was being devised to carry Daniel. With satisfaction Emily noted the two who were brought to guard them were doing just that. They stood alert, watching for any counter attack against the members of the party - those that remained at any rate. Emily stood nervously in the centre of the narrow clearing, hoping that the tasks she had assigned would not take too much time. The group was separated and vulnerable and she prayed that would not be the case for long.
As luck would have it, things did work out well. Lewis and Tobias returned with the horses, pushing them back into the scene of battle in a long line. When the conflict started and they were set free, the horses ran back down the path, stopping at a clearing some half a distance behind. Moments later Avolio was back, pointing further down the path. There was a place under some trees some distance further along the path.
Sammy and Jim stood to the side of the track in deep conference, as yet being unable to come to a solution until Byrne came over after hearing their conversation.
“Why don’t you use one of the tents?” he suggested quickly, “Just flip it over.”
Jim and Sammy turned to each other, embarrassed that they had not come to that solution themselves. Minutes later Daniel was being gently rolled onto the canvas roof of one of the single man tents. It was curved, being attached to a frame, and accommodated him well. Once covered with blankets to keep him warm, a cover was pulled over, cocooning him inside and the entire structure was lifted and carried. It was a slow and arduous task transporting him the required distance to the hide that had been located by Avolio.
Less than an hour after being accosted, the group was secreted under several mid-height trees some distance from the road. There was no fire that night, no hot meal. Those that were not required to watch over security matters or the welfare of the injured climbed into the remaining tents and achieved restless and unsatisfying sleep until light started to appear on the horizon and they were woken by the last watch.

***

Emily continued to command them the following day. She had shown remarkable presence of mind and had set a precedence that Avolio was unable to break. With resignation he allowed the progress of the party to be dictated by the young woman, though there was some consolation when he considered her competency.
The sun had risen well over the horizon when the preparations for departure were finalized. Part of the delay lay with the care of Daniel whose condition had not changed overnight, and also on Emily’s insistence that they had a decent breakfast.
The selection of Avolio’s secluded grove proved to be a sound tactical decision. It was on a slight rise all around with clear ground all around. From their vantage any attack would be clearly seen for some distance. Emily surveyed the countryside then ordered a fire be built. She was determined to start the day with a full and satisfied stomach considering the amount of work that they would be required to do that day.
Avolio sat staring at the fire, chewing on one of the cakes that had been prepared, mentally calculating the time that would be required to arrive at their destination now that they were slowed by injury. He was not prepared for the sudden arrival of Emily, who brazenly sat next to him, taking his attention away from his thoughts.
“So…” she began pointedly, “…how far away is this place we’re going?”
“Two days.”
“Is that two days at full gallop or two days with Daniel on a stretcher?”
The judge sighed. “Probably four days,” he corrected himself.
Amelia was sitting over the other side of the fire listening to the plans. She could not help but interrupt. “We won’t meet your deadline now.”
“I know. It can’t be helped.”
“What’s next then?” Emily asked him.
Avolio looked down the hill to the trail and what lay ahead. “The valley opens up further down and we’ll meet and cross the river,” he explained. “Then for maybe half a day’s walk the road gets better.”
Amelia knew what he meant. “The East Trade Road.”
He nodded. “We’ll have to stay the night there. There’ll be lots travellers this time of year and the camp ground will be full. The bandits won’t come down the valley that far and there is safety in numbers. I’m hoping to get a carriage for our injured friend and that should speed things up some.”
Lewis was nearby, listening. “So you can get right back to judging him?” he asked Avolio acidly.
“Actually, I was thinking we might keep him alive, if that’s all right with you?” The judge returned Lewis’s gaze steadily.
Boyes sat down between the two of them, changing the subject. “You think you’ll get a carriage? They’re hard to come by. How are you going to do that?”
“I have my ways.”
Emily looked at them all. “We’ll still have to carry Daniel all day.” 
Boyes set his jaw in determination. “We’ll do what has to be done.”
“Alright…” Emily said, taking command. “Avolio leads. Sammy, Lewis, Tobias, Boyes carry Daniel… Amelia and I will be after Daniel. You two…” She glanced at the two guards. “…ride on either side.”
Avolio looked doubtful. “If we get attacked again we will be tripping over each other.”
“No,” she disagreed, “We drop Daniel and form a circle. Really, only you and the two tough guys will be any use. You can ride around killing whoever you like. We won’t get in the way, trust me.”
Genty turned to his friend and grinned. “‘Tough guys’ – I like that.”
Boyes folded his arms over his chest. “They won’t bother us now we’re out of the hills. Not in the daylight and in the valley.”
Emily stood, brushing the crumbs of breakfast from her lap. She straightened her utilities, looking up at the rising sun from between the trees and pronounced breakfast over.
“We’ve got a long day and a long way to go,” she declared, “let’s get to it.”

The camp was packed up quickly and they were on their way, moving in the formation Emily had specified. Jim rode to the back, five horses following in a line behind him. Daniel remained cocooned in his tent stretcher unaware of the extreme exertion undertaken by the four that carried him. Fortunately the path was mostly downhill, winding gracefully down a picturesque valley below them. The area was packed with farms on either side and this reminded them of the area from which they came, but the crop was different here, small plots of small green plants gave the appearance of a patchwork quilt. 
Small farm houses and barns, much like the ones that had been on Daniel’s farm, dotted the scene. Smoke rose from their chimneys in fading columns up into the blue sky, giving the only indication that there were any people actually living in the region. They saw no-one, heard nothing. There were no farm animals here either. It was eerily quiet but serene – in direct contrast to the horrific experience they had in the hills.
The valley broadened out as they travelled further down and a small river appeared on their right with the road meandered along near it for some distance. When the path moved alongside the riverbank Emily called a halt. 
Those carrying the stretched breathed a sigh of relief and put their burden down under a small tree in the shade. Jim took the horses to the river and let them drink, allowing his own mount to do so as well, sliding gingerly down off his saddle and down into the icy and fast flowing water. The sun had been beating down on his back all morning, so he cooled off quickly, splashing the cold water over his head and neck, letting it run down and soak the back of his utility shirt. It would only be a short stop, enough time for Amelia to check her patient and for the men to stretch and get the blood flowing back into their fingers. The apprehension that all of them felt leaving the hills above had evaporated in the warmth and quietness of the valley.
The river snaked its way down, and the trail followed it closely. From time to time small tracks branched off, some into the fields, some cutting into the bank of the river on both sides, the water flowing rapidly over each crossing. After a long stretch, an hour’s hard walking - the road turned abruptly, crossing over the river at right angles. The current was flowing stronger now, having gained some momentum and volume from smaller creeks that fed it. Jim’s watch – and his stomach – registered lunch time, and Emily called a halt motivated by hunger. 
With relief Daniel was once again moved into the shade and gently lowered down onto brown coloured grass. Jim tended to all the horses, making sure that they were fed and watered, allowing them to graze at the side of the road. That done, he joined the others in taking some yellow cinnamon bread and once he had eaten his fill, he moved away by himself down the bank some way and lying down by the side of the river, resting and enjoying the sunshine.
A gentle hand woke him from his contented doze. Amelia looked down at him and smiled. “We’re going soon,” she told him quietly.
Jim sat up onto his elbow, his eyes adjusting to the bright daylight. He yawned and stretched then started to rub his right shoulder.
“How are you feeling?” she asked her patient.
“Improving, thanks. How’s Daniel?”
“Breathing a little better, I think,” she reassured him, but her face spoke of the concern she was feeling.
Jim was not convinced, but let it go. “Good.” He held out his hand for her to take. “Help me up?”
With Amelia pulling him to standing Jim was upright and gazing over the beautiful vista laid out before him. The river ran relentlessly to an unknown destination, its waters flowing musically over the rocks on the bed and on the crossing.
Her touch brought him back to reality, the sounds of activity to his left coming to his attention. “Come on.” She was directing him by the arm back up the bank to the rest of the group preparing to leave.
“You realize…” he said pleasantly, “…that in one foul swoop you’re worried about Daniel – and no longer about me?”
Amelia laughed at the suggestion. “Don’t worry. I haven’t forgotten about you.” She regarded him slyly, adding, “I’m still watching.” She helped him over to the gazing horses then left him there to complete her preparations to depart. Daniel was out from the shade, in his stretcher on the ground. The four that had carried him thus far were standing about him, the dread of their task evident on their faces. There was resolve also, for most of them at least, as Daniel was a friend and he needed them. Amelia was up on her horse, shifting position in her saddle, waiting for the call to proceed. They needed not wait for Jim, he had tagged along behind all day with the unused mounts and could catch up easily. Avolio waited for Emily to be ready and for her nod (which had become something of a ritual between them) then called them to proceed.

***

Avolio nudged his horse into the frigid flowing waters slowly, watching the depth carefully. He had ridden through here not too long ago and was familiar with this crossing but this time there was an injured man to be carried over as well. He determined that it was not deep enough to cause trouble to the four carrying Daniel and he motioned them to follow, passing over to the other side and waiting for the rest of them to cross after him. The audible complaints could be heard echoing over the quiet valley as Daniel was carefully carried over, being held over the swiftly flowing waters higher than comfort allowed. At the other side the men rubbed their legs hoping to regain some blood flow back into the frozen limbs. Moments later Emily, Amelia and the two guards were over and the group continued, this time away from the river and across the fields. Emily rode ahead to where Avolio was at the lead, the course of their travels on her mind.
“Where are we going?” she asked him, straining her eyes up ahead.
Avolio stretched out his arm to a range of small hills that lay up ahead only a few hours ahead. “See that range there, we’re going around them,” he explained. “Tonight’s camp is around the other side.”
“It’s lovely here,” she commented absently, breathing in the fresh air.
“That it is. They do have trouble with bandits here though.” He was smiling smugly to himself.
 “Perhaps we’ve helped them a little after last night.”

***

The two leaders rode on for a while in silence. Emily was unsure of what to say to the judge, he was the source of some of their problems and yet he seemed increasingly more human, more pleasant, more a friend than he had been before. Avolio rode on, lost in his own thoughts which he did not share with Emily, she believed that Avolio’s problems were complex and beyond her power to heal.
Turning gracefully to the left, the road then moved in a straight line along the side of the range of small hills. They needed to stop several times along this path, Daniel seemed to be getting increasingly heavier and they started to slow their pace. Gradually the road turned back to the right an around the end of the range where another valley opened up to their view. It was getting late in the afternoon and Avolio began to get nervous again. They were still some distance from what he called the ‘East Trade Road’ and the camp for the night. Shadows were lengthening progressively in their path until finally the sun disappeared behind the range that they had been following half the afternoon. The road turned to the left in a sweeping gesture as they rounded a hillock, turning then back to the right and suddenly, almost by magic the ground opened up into a large depression. 
Here there were hundreds of tents spanning the entire area. Around them masses of people walked and there was a multitude of fires lit for warmth and for cooking. The smells of a hundred suppers were carried over to them on the gentle evening breeze, making their stomachs almost leap from their bellies in anticipation. Avolio announced the obvious with much relief: “We’re here.”
Avolio and Byrne rode ahead with the intention of locating a place to make their camp, leaving the others to plod down the final hill into the hollow. With every painful step the four carrying the stretcher moved toward what they hoped would be the final time they carried this burden. Byrne rode back to them as they approached the outskirts of that massive gathering in order to direct them to the selected place. Once arrived, a fire was lit, supper was started and tents were erected. There was no time, nor had they the energy for talking to those around them. They were all dog tired – especial the four that had carried Daniel all day – and after eating, retired early. 
Boyes took the first watch, sitting in front of the fire, keeping a careful gaze over the tents and the horses. Apart from the elder only Avolio did not sleep. He was out scouting for a carriage for the next day. He had wealth enough to buy a hundred carriages but that meant nothing here. He also required all his powers of persuasion, and if that failed there was always brute force. Finally he had procured a carriage for twice its material value and ground his teeth at the expense. It was not long before he was asleep despite the noises of the camp, talking, laughter and the sounds of the horses.

***

The sharp knock at his door caused Carl to look up from his reading. His father had many scrolls in the study, many of which he could not decipher, may of which made no sense to him at all. He had been looking through the collection, deciding whether or not to dispose of them when the knock came. His captain had returned, hopefully with good news. His smile told Carl that it was what he had hoped.
“We’ve found her.”

***

The sitting room was vacant save for one person. She sat on the chair awkwardly, fully aware that there were Carl’s men stationed outside the door and on the veranda just outside the windows. Her arm throbbed still, the result of mistreatment from the men that had brought her here, the result of her trying to resist. Still in its splint, still broken and painful at times, her arm sat in her lap. She remembered how she received this injury. Falling and landing on the hard earth, her arm underneath her. She remembered stumbling through the town to raise the alarm. Even now she could see his face looking up at her as they took him away. The last time she saw him.
Now another face intruded in on her memory. Cruel and sardonic, her brothers face. He had come into the room from the study door, walked slowly up to her, sitting in the chair opposite. She seemed not to realize he was even there. She knew he was but chose not to recognize him, not yet. His voice broke the spell. She turned he eyes upon him and gave him a look, a look of distain and hatred.
“Good evening, sister,” he started in mock pleasantness, “…I’m so glad you chose to come home to us.”
“You know why I’m here, brother,” she told him acidly. “You know I’m not here by choice. I wouldn’t spend a second with you here in this house by choice.”
He shook his head in surprise, but really he had no reason to be.
“Now, Victoria… I don’t know what I have done to deserve this treatment. I brought you here because I’d learnt that you were hurt and needed attention. I’m going to make sure you are going to get it. It’ll take some time but I’m positive it’s for the best.”
“Why don’t you let me go? I’ve done nothing wrong.”
Now he was shocked. “Nothing? You have embarrassed the family – that’s what you’ve done. No. You’re staying here in this house until you are better and until you see reason. Your friend is not coming back, I’ve seen to that.”
Carl called out to his captain just beyond the door. “Take my sister to her room, would you?”
The captain went to grab her arm, to pull her up but she shied away, standing on her own accord.
“Be warned, brother,” she told him threateningly. “I have friends in this town. They won’t stand for this – or anything else you may have planned.”
“Friends?” he asked her incredulously. “What friends have you got? You’ve never had anyone.” Then he clicked his fingers, a realization coming to him.
Carl drew a veil of sadness over his face. The room seemed to fall into darkness as he pronounced the words that broke her spirit. “I’m sorry. You don’t know, do you? You’ve not heard? Elder Laydon has died. He was found out on the plain. It is a tragedy for the town, for us all. I’m sorry; I know he was probably your only friend.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

The mornings were becoming progressively crisper with each passing day. Frequently now one would find mists hovering over the ground, obscuring the landscape until the sun rose high enough to banish them. Such it was that morning. Lewis was the first up, woken by the starting of activities around him. All about the tents in that clearing other travellers were up and preparing to meet their day, the sounds and smells of breakfast caused his eyes to open and his belly to rumble. He had retired early the night before having been one of four who had carried his friend for the entire day and it had been a long time between meals.
The others were up soon after him and breakfast was not long after that, a simple meal that they had become accustomed to, a meal that was satisfying and gave them the sustenance needed for the day. Avolio was off early, taking his two men with him to collect the carriage needed to transport the wounded. Lewis left them also, walking through the midst of the throng, his mind too clouded to enjoy the sights and sounds of this new place. 
There was a procession of women coming from the opposite direction, carrying pales of water. He assumed the source was further down the road, so he passed them, going in the direction from where they came. Only a short distance further on the road passed over a small river coming from the mountains to the north. It didn’t have the frenetic pace that the river they had followed the day before, but it moved steadily down, cutting its way through the centre of the valley, on its way to some unknown destination (unknown to him at least).
At the banks people were collecting their supplies of water for the day and splashing the cold liquid over their faces and heads, waking themselves and washing the haziness collected from the previous night’s sleep. Children were running in between the older ones, playing and laughing, some splashing. None noticed Lewis as he sat by the bank and squeezed a conservative line of paste over his toothbrush and dipped it into the river. 
One of the children passed him in the course of the game and stopped cold. The sight of the young man strangely dressed, sitting at the bank, madly moving a coloured stick in and out of his mouth, with white foam appearing between his lips, stunned him. The other children crashed into the first, jubilant that he had been captured, stopped to see what had caught his attention. Lewis turned to the starring children and forced out a smile causing more of the foam to issue from his mouth. The children laughed at what was to them an intensely amusing sight, but Lewis was unable to join them. He spat onto the ground and stood. The children stopped laughing, their eyes wide open and mouths agape at the sight. He was taller than any man they had ever seen. They were off again, not resuming their game, but back to the camp and away from the tall stranger. 
Lewis shuddered. Visions were returning to him, visions that shook him to the core. He pushed them to the back of his mind and placed one foot in front of the other, following the children back to the camp.

***

The carriage was simple by all standards but was covered, keeping out the sun and the wind. Daniel was laid onto one side and arranged as comfortably and carefully as possible. Amelia would not permit the carriage to proceed until her patient was properly prepared. Emily sat next to her, enjoying a day when she was not riding, her backside still recovering from the last two days in the saddle. The others were already on their mounts which were pawing impatiently in the ground, wanting to move on.
The two judges stood by the doorway waiting, looking in at the activity inside and after having received the permission to proceed, nodded to Byrne holding the reigns. The carriage door was closed and the horses hitched to the front started off, moving at a slow and careful pace toward the outskirts of the camp and to the road beyond.

The pace of the carriage quickened beyond a walk once the road improved past the river crossing. The land dropped suddenly, requiring the carriage to negotiate two awkward hairpin bends. Having slowed to a walk for the drop, Gentry pushed the horses a little, bringing up the speed for the long, straight run to the river. All around them farmland existed in patchwork fashion as they had seen earlier and to their right mountains rose up from the farms, still steeped in fog and clouds that was slowly dissipating. The sun was shining and it was warm, those out in the open closed their eyes and leaned back in the saddles, soaking in the life giving sunlight and breathing in the fresh, clean air. Avolio rode out in front again, pleased that he seemed in command again, if only in appearance, scouting ahead for trouble and checking the state of the road. Byrne adjusted the speed of the travel according to the judge’s directions, and the arrangement ensured that the party reached the final river crossing in time for lunch.
Other groups had stopped here as well, on either side of the crossing, already taking lunch and resting after the mornings travel. The men climbed down, letting their horses graze on the harsh olive-green grass that lined the rapidly flowing river. Traditionally Amelia would have prepared something for them to eat but it seemed that they were on their own. She had not as yet stepped out of the carriage and there was no sign that she was going to do so in the foreseeable future.

***

Jim opened the door to the carriage, to look in and enquiring of his friend’s condition. Amelia’s face was creased with concentration and concern. Her head was to the side and she was listening intently at his breathing which was coming in rapid shallow gasps. Shaking her head she sat back up, looking into Jim’s face.
“What’s up?” he asked her urgently.
She didn’t explain, she just commanded, “Get Avolio.”

***

Jim found Avolio fishing through his pack for trail rations to take for lunch. In moments he had reached the doorway to the carriage, moving quickly, his face full of worry.
“We can’t stop,” Amelia told him, “He’s getting worse. We need to get him to the surgeon.”
Avolio understood. He could see the tell tale breathing. He could see the young mans pale face, lips slightly tinged with blue. He said nothing back to her, turning on his heel he said plenty to the others, yelling instructions as he climbed on his horse and heading straight to the ford.
The river bank widened here, and the crossing was shallow. Avolio was over to the opposite side quickly and waved them on. Byrne called to the horses, urging them though the rapidly flowing and freezing water, calling again to encourage them to heave the carriage up and over to the bank at the opposite side.
Turning almost as soon as the crossing was done, the road followed the river northward for several clicks, and then both turned to the west. Avolio insisted the pace be quickened, faster than many would have deemed safe. He seemed driven by an unspoken desire to help the young man, indebted perhaps for his own life. The carriage made steady pace along the noisily flowing tributary, turning again to the right along with the river, which seemed to slow and widen out considerably. Avolio kicked the sides of his horse again, picking up the pace even further as the road now proceeded along the river’s side which ran in a straight direction to the north-west.
Soon it and the road passed into high hills that rose up on each side. The sun started its slow decent to the west and shadows lengthened across the road. Avolio did not relent on the pace - he kept going, pushing the horses, offering no rest for anyone. Hours later the sun descended beyond the hills, and the light started to fade rapidly. Still they carried on, following the river as it widened further, opening up into a large body of water which promised to continue well into the west. After a quick turn as the river widened, the road followed a section of headland which jutted out into the lake. As they headed south around the point, the presence of the town became obvious, it had been hidden by the hills but now it came into view – appearing as twinkles of light on the water. Now they were travelling south and the water to their right opened up into a lake. The township sat on the southern shore. This had been their goal and they were almost there, tantalizingly within sight but still frustratingly out of reach. At least an hour of travel remained and the light was almost gone, forcing Avolio to slow the advance so that the carriage and its occupant would arrive intact.
Another river separated them from the town - it flowed in between them and their destination, flowing into the lake from somewhere south. There was no wet crossing here - a stone bridge spanned the river. It was old and worn, its sandstone pieces chipped and stained from untold years of use. After passing over, the road widened and improved in quality, entering the eastern gate of the Trade Town. Avolio spoke to the gatemen, being allowed entry immediately into the square beyond.

***

The judge stood at the entrance gate calling for attention at the top of his lungs and for several minutes there was no response. Finally a door opened admitting a column of light into the courtyard from the imposing stone building. With little haste a figure sauntered toward the gate, his face showing obvious displeasure at being disturbed when he reached the gate. Avolio stood, the darkness hiding his face, regarding the arrival with disdain.
“Yes? What is it?”
Avolio chose not to answer immediately; instead he untied the cord that held closed his coat and swept aside his outer clothing to reveal his medallion, gleaming in the light that shone from the house. Stepping then closer to the gate, his features became clear and the man almost choked on the words he had just spoken, the man struggled to form an apology. Avolio gave him no chance, simply giving him the order that was necessary: “Open the gate, you fool.”
The servant struggled to comply, but Avolio could not afford to waste time. He pushed the gate open to admit the carriage into the courtyard. As it reached the house it turned sharply so that the door could open virtually straight into the building’s entrance. Behind, the men and horses streamed in. His mouth agape, the servant remained lost for words.
“We have an injured man that requires the surgeon immediately, and a bed,” Avolio told him, giving him no chance to object.
The servant scurried away without a word, leaving them standing in the cold night air. Noises were heard inside as the house sprung to action. Another figure came through the door, not the servant returning but someone Avolio knew quite well.
“Has that idiot left you out here?” Zacharie asked him, aghast. “Avolio, come in, come in!”
The judge stalled the entry, pointing urgently into the carriage.
“We’ve got an injured man. He needs urgent assistance.”
They both walked to the door of the carriage and gazed into the vehicle.
The Chief Justice sucked air into his lungs suddenly at the sight of Daniel. “Bring him in. I’ll get a room for him.”
From within the carriage came a woman’s voice which stopped them in their tracks.
“Avolio! The surgeon!” Amelia reminded him.
Zachaire impatiently called another servant, speaking quietly and quickly to him, sending him off. Another wave of the hand had the horses taken away to the side of the house leaving only the carriage and its two horses still attached.
Slowly and carefully Daniel was extracted from their conveyance and laid back into the stretcher he had been carried in two days earlier. The servants carried Daniel into the house and the men stood by and watched him vanish through the door, unsure of how to proceed. They did not have long to wait. Tobias disappeared almost immediately after their arrival, going back out through the gate and to the public building adjacent where the guard was housed. As Daniel was being carried in, several of the guard, hastily assembled, was entering through the gate ready to take the men into custody. Jim turned, realizing what was just about to happen and advised them to not resist. They were strangers in a strange town, and now under arrest again.

***

Zacharie sat in his favourite chair watching Avolio pace impatiently about the study. For the last hour he had been waiting for the surgeon to arrive, growing more and more concerned as time passed. Avolio said nothing during this time, choosing to mutter under his breath incessantly leaving the Chief Justice perplexed as to why the judge showed such concern over the convicted criminal. Finally he felt he had to know, insisting on an answer.
“Avolio, sit down. You are wearing a hole in my expensive rug.”
Reluctantly the younger judge sat, still muttering. “I’d like to thank you brother for sending me on this favour of yours.”
“What happened?”
Avolio made a show of spitting contemptuously. “Tobias and that idiot son of Delvore pushed me into convicting these people. Now I am stuck right in the middle of this.”
“Are you saying that these people are innocent?”
The judge looked frustrated. “I don’t know,” he groaned. “All I’m sure of is that they are good people. I don’t think they are capable to committing the crime we’ve convicted them for.”
“And you say you were pushed into a guilty verdict?”
Avolio nodded then silent swore to himself.
The Chief Justice stroked his chin in thought. “Then I’d say you are in some trouble. If they are innocent, you don’t want their blood on your hands.”
Avolio looked at him pleadingly. “That’s why I need your help.”
Zachaire narrowed his eyes. “How is that?”
“They’ve appealed to the king…”
The Chief Justice showed a small amount of consternation at the news but allowed Avolio to continue.
“…which was some relief to me and I hoped to pass this problem onto our glorious monarch. However…” He took a deep breath. “…Tobias questioned whether they had the right to appeal. If Tobias persuades the Law Council here that they don’t, then my original verdict stands. If they should find the opposite then they go to the king – and their fate lies with him.”
“You do realize that no-one has appealed in over two hundred years? We’ve managed to keep that portion of the law out of general knowledge all this time - only to have you wreck it all now.”
“I didn’t tell them about Appeal, they just knew.”
Zachaire grunted. “Well, it’s too late now. You’ve got a village elder with you. I assume he knows all about it.”
“Assume away.”
 “You want me to sway the views of the Council? It’s going to be a bit of an ask, considering the whole ‘appeal’ thing.”
“I’m sure you’ll be very persuasive. Anyway, I don’t want the council to vote any particular way, I just want what’s fair. I want you to know why they’re here too. It wasn’t even a matter of law really – they were simply in the way of a rich old man.”
“If you knew that then why did you condemn them?”
He sighed. “It’s…complicated.”
“Things always are. It would help to know why you think they are innocent.”
The judge exhaled and closed his eyes - thinking through what he believed was true. “I just don’t think they could have done the crime. Tobias asserts that there is conclusive evidence and yes, there is some to suggest motive, but I think it’s hardly cut and dry.”
Avolio opened his eyes, looking through the door that joined the room where Daniel laid waiting for the surgeon. “When we were on the road,” he explained, “…when we were attacked, two of them protected me, saved me. They could have let me die but they stepped in the way of danger. The injured young man, Daniel, in particular. He took a knife in the chest for me. He jumped in the way. I would have been stabbed in the back. I’m sure I wouldn’t be here now if he hadn’t.”
“That’s why you are so concerned for him.”
Avolio nodded, running his hand over his forehead as he gazed down to the floor.
“They could be been acting only to save their own skin,” Zachaire suggested, “…or perhaps it was on the spur of the moment.”
Avolio nodded. “No, it wasn’t like that. Daniel jumped in the way. He took the injury that was destined for me. This is what I am saying: These people are not capable of murder. They didn’t do this crime. They couldn’t have done it.”
“I don’t know…” Zachaire was shaking his head. This would be difficult, if not impossible. “I think we’ll be pushing up hill.”
“You have to try,” the judge practically begged him. “Anyway,” he added, “you owe me!”

***

Tobias returned from the guard house an hour later looking pleased with himself. During the trek from the Watchers village to Trade Town, he could barely contain the aggravation caused by the criminals being free to move as they pleased. He had stopped short of ordering them all shackled together for the journey, realizing that it would have taken twice as long to arrive at their destination. Satisfied at last, with at least some of the convicted safe in the guard house, Tobias settled into a chair opposite the Chief Justice.

***

“You have them locked up?” Avolio asked him evenly.
“I have. Only the injured man, Daniel and the tall girl remain.”
“Good,” Avolio nodded grimly, “Hopefully Daniel will be well enough very soon and we can get this matter settled. You’re hoping to have the council hear the matter as soon as possible?”
Tobias settled back in the chair. “I think it best. Let’s get this over with as quick as we can.”
The Chief Justice looked squarely at Avolio and arched an eyebrow. Avolio changed his attitude in the blink of an eye, seemingly dancing to Tobia’s tune the moment the other judge entered the room. It took only a moment for Zachaire to realize what was happening: Tobias has some hold over Avolio, and the judge was unable to break free from it. Further, Avolio did want to go against the other judge’s wishes and was asking, no, almost pleading for help from the Chief Justice. 
While the two judges continued to talk, planning the next course of action, Zacharie was in the throes of internal conflict. Recognizing that the complexity of the situation and not wishing to favour either point of view, the Chief Justice found himself in a difficult position. In the end it came down to a legal argument and the facts of the case would play no part. 
For now things had found a level of equilibrium that satisfied all and deeper issues could wait. The pain that showed on Avolio’s face earlier was a telling sign. The judge believed that justice had not been served and that there was some agenda playing out – and Avolio had a well known reputation for fairness. Placing all these factors into the back of his mind for future consideration, Zachaire gave a reassuring smile to Avolio and sat back in his chair. This would come to a head soon, but for tonight what mattered most was the life of the young man who had saved Avolio’s life. What mattered was the surgeon – and when he would arrive.

***

Daniel lay on the bed, his face pale and lathered with sweat. His breathing, which had settled some during the laborious journey down from the hills two days ago, now had worsened again. Rapid and shallow, his chest barely had time to rise and fall adequately and this contributed to the marked decrease in the amount of oxygen he was receiving. His lips were slowly turning a shade of blue and he was becoming more restless with every hour. Amelia stood by, the concern evident on her face. She believed that the young man would surely die, and very soon.
Without warning Boyes entered, sitting heavily on one of the chairs by the door. “Well, he’s done it,” he announced.
Emily was by Daniel’s side and hadn’t looked up when the elder arrived, but she did now, asking, “Done what?”
“Put them in the guard house: Jim, Lewis and Sammy.”
Emily’s face fell. She had obvious concerns about her friends. Now she was torn between two places: here with Daniel, and there with the three locked up again.
Boyes observed the look upon her face and raced to allay her fears: “Don’t worry,” he said reassuringly, “…they’ll be fine. The guard house here is a little more civilized than the one in the village and I doubt Avolio will let anything happen to them. Who we should be worried about is Daniel here.”
Leaning forward he glanced quickly to the injured patient on the bed. Shaking his head he mouthed silently a question he already knew the answer to. Amelia returned his gaze grimly. The resignation that showed on her face was increasing with the passage of time.

***

Boyes woke with a start. The room was darker, some of the candles had been extinguished and those in the room spoke in hushed voices. Another person had arrived whilst he was asleep and Boyes hoped that it was the surgeon, unfortunately his hopes were misplaced. Avolio stood by the window flanked by the two women. The shades were open and the darkness of the night imposed itself upon the background of the three. They were speaking quietly, looking out on the scene below.
“I can only keep things at bay for so long,” the judge was saying. “Tobias is pushing for the hearing tomorrow but I’ve advised a delay. We have three days. I hope that’s long enough.”
“Where is Tobias now?” his wife asked Avolio.
“Out garnishing support I’d expect. The Chief Justice will vote in our favour, at least I hope he will. If he takes up our cause then I suspect he’ll talk to his faction. No matter what happens it’ll be close.”
Emily sounded tense. “We had better pray that he’ll be on our side then.” 
The room became completely silent. Emily’s words remained hanging in the air, the response chilling the air around them. Amelia stood aghast, unable to speak, clearly taken aback by what the young woman had said, as if hundreds of questions formed in her mind with no way to ask them. Avolio was shocked too, but for a different reason. Boyes stood quickly from the chair, seeking to defuse the situation a rapidly as possible.
“I am sure she did not mean what she said in the way you think she meant it, Your Honour,” he stammered, then realized he made no sense at all. “She’s from another place,” he added as if to explain, “…obviously it would be a figure of speech where she comes from.”
“What did I say?” Emily asked, exasperated.
Amelia had recovered her composure, pulled back in the surprise on her face that may have given away any feelings she had on the subject. Regardless, Avolio did not notice, he had been staring at Emily all along.
Amelia patted her arm. “Nothing dear, nothing.”
Boyes joined the three at the door, choosing to change the subject rather than risk having Emily ask another question.
“So you are with us then?” he asked the judge.
Avolio sighed, running his hand through his hair. “I suppose I am. I’ll do what I can, but there’s a limit.”
Emily looked at him disapprovingly. “All this could have been avoided if you had just seen things our way in the first place. Why didn’t you?”
Avolio’s reply came almost automatically, as if he was answering more to convince himself than the others. “It’s complicated.”
“You look like you’re getting very practiced at saying that.”
Amelia interjected. “It doesn’t matter anyway, we’re here now and we need to keep focus. Daniel needs us so the rest of it can wait. Where is that surgeon?”

***

Daniel sat on the hill overlooking the vast plain that separated his home from the stairs, a day’s walk to the south. Already the storm had passed over - the rain had soaked the ground and moved on. The air was still tainted by the smell of lightning and over his shoulder came the remnants of light and sound. Even from here he could see the foot prints that moved off south, disappearing in the distance, the footsteps of his father.
The rock on which he sat was still cool and damp from the rain but he didn’t care if the water soaked into his pants. He was waiting.
She called happily from behind him. “Hey!”
There was no need to turn. He knew the voice. He knew who it was. She was always greeting him so casually. Her familiarity came from the years they had known each other, years that they had grown up together.
She was pointing to where he had chosen to place his backside. “I am not sitting on that rock,” she said reprovingly, “my dress will get wet and dirty.”
Daniel causally tossed his coat over the hard surface at his side whilst still looking over the plain and the remnants of the storm. “We can’t have that, can we?” he said with a smile.
Mariana made an observation borne from years of experience. There had been a storm. He was waiting here, looking over the landscape. “Your father, he’s gone over again?”
Daniel nodded. He did not want to talk about it. He was hoping that the company of the young woman he loved would take his mind of his mad father.
“I am sure he has a good reason for going,” she offered.
“He has a reason, I’m not sure if it’s a good reason.”
This conversation was played out again. It always ended in the same way. Daniel did not want to start another fight, refusing to answer questions. He did not truly understand the answers anyway. It was highly unlikely that she would understand either.
She seemed to sense this in him, voicing what was going on his mind. “You don’t want to talk about it, do you?”
“Not really, no.”
The air was cool, the storm had taken what warmth there was in the evening, and she shivered, folding her arms about her. Daniel drew his arm about her, almost by reflex, offering some of his own warmth, pulling her into him, letting her head rest onto his shoulder.
“I am proud of you, you know?” she said suddenly.
“Proud? Why?”
“Don’t you remember? You saved him.”
Daniel looked down at her, uncomprehending. “What are you talking about?”
Drawing away, Marianna returned his confused expression, almost as a mirror. “You saved him. You jumped in the way. You took the knife that was meant for him. Remember? After I saw you, after I gave you my necklace. See, you are wearing it now.”
Look down at his neck he saw it. Red and metallic, it sat cold and hard against his chest, poking through the gap in his shirt.
What?
The sight of it jogged his memory. Yes, there he was, asleep in a small tent by the fire. Sammy was there, keeping watch, his face to the fire, his back to Daniel as he woke to the sound of his love. She spoke to him: I want to give you something. Looking through her mother’s pack she pulled out the necklace, offering it to him. You know what it will mean if you take it? -she had asked him. I do he said, and then came the frenzied cry.
Moments later she was down, bleeding and dying, and he was unable to save her, unable to help her. She died again. 
You will have to move quicker next time.
I’m sorry, I can’t save you.
I know, but there is one you can save.
I don’t understand.
You will, my love.
She was almost about to breathe her last, having the energy only for one last smile, and whispered into his ear: No one really dies, they just move on.
His eyes were wide open, speechless he stared at her. She died.
She was not shocked, nor was she confused. She smiled at him, the same smile she had given him as she died. She knew what had happened. She was waiting for the final piece of the puzzle to fall into place.
“But you died,” Daniel gasped. “How is this possible?”
She was smiling at his realization, not a happy smile, one tinged with regret. “Yes, I did die, but not on that day. That was someone else. That was the man you were supposed to save, not me.”
Finally it fell, almost with a resounding clang, into the picture that she had painted in his mind. It was not her, it was Avolio.
“I’m proud of you,” she repeated herself.
Daniel pulled away, shaking his head. “I don’t understand anything of this!”
She laughed. “You never were all that bright.”
He did not share her humour, he simply started at her. Where was he? The Watchers village, before his father had died, before that last walk to the stairs, before his world had turned upside-down, before the accident. No. He was riding to Trade Town. He was riding to his destiny. This must be a dream. All of Daniel’s hopes fell apart at that moment. He was happy here, with the woman he loved. Things were uncomplicated. Things were good.
“This is a dream, isn’t it?” he asked her finally, sadly.
She nodded back, he face showing her disappointment at the reality of this revelation. He could see in her face that she wished it was not a dream too.
“I’m sorry, my love. I wish it wasn’t true. I wish this were real too. I feel alive here with you, not the way I am, now that I am…” She could not complete her sentence.
Now she looked around, the light was fading and so was time. “This man you saved…” she started, then noticed she was losing him, “…are you listening?”
Daniel was looking into her face; tears that had formed in his eyes moments ago were falling down his cheeks. He was crying with love and with loss. He was not listening; he was trying to imprint her face on his memory. He was hoping to hold her in his mind one last time.
“Listen,” she commanded, “…this is important!”
His eyes showed she had his attention again, so she started saying what she needed to say before time ran out. “This man you saved, he will come to you again. He will need you again. You must be there for him.”
Now another voice was heard, disembodied but familiar to both of them, coming from the very air above as it dissolved into darkness. She looked up then, listening.
It was Amelia. “Thank the stars! Where have you been?”
Marianna looked back to her man, her face full of regret, disappointment. “Remember what I said. You had better go - there’s someone there to meet you. It’s time to wake up now.”

Daniel opened his eyes suddenly as his body became racked with pain. Every breath became like being stabbed all over again, and every breath came more and more close together as his body fought for life sustaining oxygen. Arching upward, his chest felt like a vice was squeezing the very life from it, he felt like his heart was being constricted beyond its capacity. He felt moments from death.
Then he felt the presence above him, hovering above his face. With his vision blurry as it was, the face before him was indistinct, unsubstantial, and it was impossible to detect who it was or to read their expression. Then the presence spoke, and in those few words were expressed both unchallengeable authority and incredible fear.
“Nathan! My bag, quickly!”
Now he was almost completely unable to draw breath, there was nowhere for it to go, his chest had expanded to the point he thought it would burst and his heart seem to almost stop, being unable to squeeze a single drop of blood into the rest of his body. He started to fight, to thrash about on the bed, struggling against the hands of death one last time before he was taken. There was shouting now, over the top of him again. The fear in the voice was replaced by terror but remained just as commanding.
“All of you get over here now, hold him down!”
Daniel opened his eyes, trying to see what was happening around him. There were the faces of those he knew all around him. They met his gaze, sharing in their expression the fear in the voice he first heard. There were hands ripping open his shirt, feeling on his chest, poking at his ribs.
“Nathan, the trokhar!”
Moments later the light from the room was extinguished, blocked by someone above him, a man, the owner of the voice, standing over him, holding a metal spike.
Boyes was yelling, almost hysterically. “In the name of the Great Oblivion, what are you going to do with that?”
Before even Boyes has finished uttering his horrified question the figure above him lowered his arm and plunged the spike into his chest with such force he felt it go almost through to his back. The pain was extreme and a heartbeat later he passed again into unconsciousness.

Chapter Twenty-Four

The surgeon stayed with Daniel for at least an hour alone – save for his assistant - demanding absolute quiet for his examination. Outside the others, including Amelia, were left waiting, and they all sat except for the doctor who paced impatiently. She was obviously annoyed that she had been ejected like the others, annoyed that she had been excluded from the examination even though he had been her patient for many days. Now she was relegated to the hall to wait like the outsiders to her profession. She seethed silently as she stalked down to the far end, turned on her heal and headed back to where the others were seated. Night had fallen two hours ago and the house would have fallen into darkness had not the servants lit lamps at intervals down the hall. While not bright, they illuminated enough of the area so that Amelia did not trip and fall on the furniture on her travels back and forth.
Zachaire sat opposite to the door, starring at the tall, young, strangely dressed woman that sat waiting with him. No one spoke - they waited with anticipation for news from the surgeon.
Finally, Zacharie broke the silence with enquiry. “Excuse me, miss?”
Emily was lost in thought - miles away from the events transpiring around her and his voice woke her, startling her back to the present. “Huh?”
The Chief Justice ignored her obvious breach in protocol, answering him in such a common way. He continued, “You’re one of them, aren’t you?
“Yes. I am.”
Leaning forward, Zachaire seemed to give the impression that speaking to her was breaking some law. He looked sideways to the others, their attention was elsewhere.
“Do you understand what is happening?” he asked her quietly.
Turning her head slightly, Emily looked at the closed door. The Chief Justice was obviously misunderstood.
“No, not in there,” he corrected her, “I mean with you. Do you understand what is happening with you?”
She took a deep breath and answered him with the best answer she could give. “We’re here to decide whether we can appeal against our being found guilty. Is that right?”
He nodded. “More or less… For us it is a simple matter, arguments are put forth, for and against, and then we vote. What concerns me is that the entire case is anything but simple. I would feel better if I talked to you first before I spoke to the council, before I voted. Would that be all right?”
Emily looked nervous. In times past she had the support of the others, or Jim spoke for them. Now it seemed that she was responsible for influencing this judge. It all seemed to fall on her.
He sensed her discomfort and reached out to take her hand, to calm her. “There is no need to fear,” he told her quietly with a smile, “I won’t bite. I simply want to know something about you and your friends.”
She was still unsure, but his manner disarmed her enough to concede. “I guess that’ll be okay.”
He didn’t seem entirely sure of her last statement but proceeded on the assumption she had agreed. Releasing her hand, he leant back against the wall. All evidence that he was trying to hide their conversation had vanished. This was his house and he will talk to whomever he pleased.
“In this county…” he began, “…when one is found guilty of murder, the offender suffers – as with all hideous crimes – the ultimate punishment. So it is with you and your friends. So what happened to you? What brought you here?”
Emily did not answer right away and he let her think for a moment, knowing that the lives of five people depended on her response.
She swallowed, collected herself and answered as she had before, in a strong, clear voice, looking the judge in the eye as she spoke. “We had a man working with us. He’d been with us for several months and we’d come to think of him as a friend. Anyway, most of us were away from our farm and he supposedly went back to his home. It looks like he never made it. They found him dead and pretty messed up. The next minute we’re being brought in and charged for his murder.”
She stopped, seemed to stall in her dissertation. Perhaps it was only that, to her, there was nothing left to say. The judge wanted more, needed more, before he could decide.
“There must have been something else; something that was used to convict you. Some evidence perhaps?”
“There was a witness, several actually,” she conceded. “They heard him talk in the town. They said we were unhappy with him and were trying to get rid of him. Oh, and the fact that most of us were away when the body was found was used to prove we’d tried to run away or something. Seriously, there really wasn’t much of evidence. Where I come from there is no way this would have happened.”
“Now, we get to the crux of the matter. Where is it that you come from?” As if to emphasize his question, the judge leant forward again so that her answer could be heard. This was the crux as he said, this was the issue to which they would be dealing with, that would doom the five or let them live a little longer.
“I come from this country - only I’m not too sure where I came from in relation to here. I lived in a city. A place called Sydney. The others I’m with came from other places, but we’re all from this country.”
“I’ve not heard of a place like that in our kingdom. Let’s say, just for the sake of argument that you came from the Watchers village, or rather from somewhere near there.”
“From the south of there, yes.” She smiled.
“That’s good enough for me. How long have you been in our kingdom?”
“Five months, more or less.”
He leaned back and took a deep breath, weighing the options.
When the door opened suddenly to the room opposite him, Zachaire was left speechless and unable to give voice to his conclusion. Standing at the door stood the surgeon drying his hands on a towel. About his waist was tied an apron, white and clean ordinarily, now stained with Daniel’s blood, drying to a dark brown. Looking at them all in sequence he settled on the Chief Justice’s face and gave his pronouncement.
“Your friend is very lucky to be alive. He was on the edge of death when I arrived.”
Amelia was half way down the hall when he exited the room, and she ran the distance between them, taking her place at the front. “What took you so long?” she demanded. “I needed you.”
He returned her gaze with a slightly embarrassed expression. “I was indisposed,” was all he would say.
It was Boyes however, who spoke the question all of them wanted to ask: “What was the matter with him?”
“His lung was collapsed – is collapsed,” the surgeon explained. “Air was getting in.”
“I thought that was the idea.”
“Ah, but the air has to get out as well. This air was not going into his lung. This air was going into the space around it, filling with each breath, but not escaping. Eventually…” He demonstrated the process with his hands, expanding the gap between them until the explosively separated.
 “How long until he is up and about?” the judge asked him, gauging the man’s recovery against the next council meeting.
The surgeon shook his head assertively, “Oh, he is not fixed, not even remotely.”
Boyes was taken aback. “But the…”
“The trokhar…? That was just to save his life. No, he needs further treatment to fix this problem – if it can be fixed. It has been many days now and with each day the chance of repairing the damage becomes even slimmer. He needs to see a friend of mine who specializes in battle injuries like this one - he’ll have the solution if there is one to find.”
“Where is this friend of yours?” the Chief Justice asked with narrowed eyes.
“Sorry, Your Worship,” the surgeon apologized. “…but he is at the Interchange.”
“That makes sense I suppose.”
The surgeon moved swiftly into an explanation for his decision, it was obvious he was hoping Zachaire would agree and let the injured man leave. 
“The young man is still not out of the woods. His lung is still collapsed and he is still quite ill. Any delay now could affect the recovery. He needs to be on his way on the morning tide. There is no other option.”
“What you are suggesting is impossible,” the judge replied. “Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t gather enough of the Council to hear the case in that time. It’ll take most of the night to get them to sit first thing in the morning, long after he would be due to sail. We could hope to leave before the tide turns again, if we’re lucky.” 
Then there was an odd twinkle in his eyes, something had occurred to him. If he was facing difficulty gathering the members of the council in the time needed, then Tobias (who knew nothing of what was said here) would be even further behind.
“Leave this with me,” he said, already heading down the hallway, “I’ll see what I can do.”

***

The cell they shared was much larger than the one in the Watchers village. Being able to hold four comfortably this room seemed almost a palace in comparison. Old stone walls surrounded them on all sides, reaching high beyond their reach up to the roof. The only access to the outside world being a small window high up near the roof, on the back wall. The door stood impassable, old metal scratched and dented by thousands pounding relentlessly, demanding release. None of the three that were there that night added to the history of the door, one lay on one of the beds under an old blanket, seemingly asleep, another sat staring at the door and the last impatiently stalking around the cell. Without opening his eyes, Sammy spoke to the anxiety emanating from his friend.
“That isn’t going to help you know, all that pacing?” he told Jim evenly. “It is out of your hands.”
“How can you sleep?” he returned with a question that was more an accusation.
“I’m not sleeping,” Sammy quipped, “I’m lying here listening to you thump around and mutter.”
“I can’t believe that you’re so calm.”
“It’ll be alright, Jim,” Sammy said by way of explanation. “This is only part of our journey, there is much more to come.”
Jim still paced. “How do you know that?”
“If I tell you, will you be quiet and let me sleep?”
“Sure, why not.” His reply was dripping with sarcasm.
Sitting up slowly and rubbing his eyes, Sammy waited for Jim to settle. “When we first came here, by here I mean to this world, this time… I had a dream. We’ve all had them, haven’t we? I don’t remember it completely, but what I do remember is a book and a king. I am supposed to give this king a book. Emily dreamt it too, so there is no doubt in my mind.”
He allowed a second or two for the import of the message to be processed in Jim’s mind. The pacing stopped, and Sammy continued.
“So, here we are tonight, going to a king, or rather… waiting to see if we are allowed to go to this king. In my mind, I know the decision will go our way, so I’m not going to spend even a moment worrying about it, and neither should you.”
Sammy smiled at his friend who was staring back with some surprise. Stretching himself down on the bed again he folded his arms over his belly and closed his eyes. 
Unfortunately Jim was not about to allow the revelation to passed over so blithely. “What book?” he demanded.
Sammy sighed, resigned to answer a few questions at least. “Just a book. I don’t have it with me.”
“Then how are you supposed to give it to the king then?”
“It’ll turn up. I’m not worried.”
Muttering under his breath, Jim sat down on the edge of his own cot, holding his head in his hands. Riding through the pounding in his head, he spoke a conclusion that Sammy had realized long ago. “Someone is setting us up,” he said quietly. “All these coincidences, all these situations are all too convenient. I don’t like it. I don’t like being played with at all.”

***

The sun rose stately from the east, rising above the buildings, casting morning shadows over the streets and banishing the fog that shrouded the city like a blanket. The bell tolled unusually above the Judges Citadel that was seated in the rich quarter. The judges were already moving, having been warned the council was sitting early, many already decided in their minds where their votes would lie.
The Chief Justice had moved quickly, rallying those he though sympathetic to the cause, a good third of the council he was confident would be with him. Tobias had been active too, starting his bid for votes during the evening by dining with several friends in the council. Having been initially told the matter would be decided in three days he saw no need to rush, rather sought to lobby carefully over that time. When word leaked to him that the meeting would be in fact the next morning he flew into a panic, waking many of his friends and allies during the early hours of the morning to secure their votes. This haste may have contributed to some of these votes falling out of his grasp, but when morning finally came he gained more than a third of the seats. The remainder of votes could swing either way, and they would have to be gained through argument, so the outcome could hardly be predictable. Zacharie mounted the steps to the Citadel with the other judges, resigned to hours of augment and hoping for a positive result.
As he had believed, the council sat for many hours, arguing back and forth the merits of either point of view. Tobias spoke for the rejection and spoke well, swaying several to his side. Predictably, Avolio spoke in support of his colleague’s position, convincing the council he was genuine, but not Zacharie. He knew that he spoke begrudgingly, being held by Tobias on some issue neither would mention. Finally the Chief Justice of the city rose, detailing his discussions with the young woman who called herself Emily, indicating they were citizens even though they did not realize it. Surely, he said, they have been tried under the law, and then they should also have the rights of the law. Another hour was wasted arguing points and precedents until finally the vote was taken.
The hands were raised, firstly those fore then those against, all meticulously counted by attendants and recorded by scribes. Those who held a stake in the outcome watched with concern, it appeared that there were almost equal numbers voted on each side and that would make the count close.
As always it seemed that these proceedings took longer to complete as necessary and this vote more than all the others. Zacharie sat quietly on his chair at the front of the assembly, watching closely those seated around the room. Tobias and Avolio sat together, not talking but sitting anxiously, unsure of the outcome of the vote - each wishing for the opposite of the other.
Finally it came. The attendants completed their count and their obligatory conference. One of them stood and pronounced the completion in such a voice that gained absolute attention from all present and rattled the windows. As they had all guessed, the count was close, very close. Only three votes separated the two factions, and when it was delivered, each sided reacted as they were expected. Zachaire watched them all, gauging where they stood in a glance. Finally his gaze fell upon Tobias and Avolio who seemed to share the same expression although he knew, deep inside Avolio was feeling something entirely different.
The session was ended thereafter and the judges filed out to start their days work, unknowing of the importance of the last three hour, important to at least five people. The Chief Justice casually passed through them, his face neutral, unwilling to indicate to his peers his connection to the issue to which they had just heard. Moments later he was out of the citadel grounds and on his way back to his residence with his mind playing back over the arguments trying to locate where he had fallen, which parts could have been done better, how he could have swayed more of the undecided. The morning had been tiring and as he climbed the steps to the second floor and to the room where his guests had been residing, he hoped to get the next part over and done with quickly. He thought it would be best to get it over with and then move on.
The door was wide open so the Master poked his head around the corner, finding them sitting anxiously waiting his return. At the sight of him they all stood, save the young man on the bed, their eyes wide with apprehension. Wanting to know but not wanting to know all at the same time.
“That took a long time!” Amelia, the healer spoke first.
“These matters always do.”
The village elder from Watchers leant forward with dread filled anticipation, “Well?”
Zacharie sat heavily and sighed. “It was not as easy as we hoped. Tobias had received quite a bit of support for his cause. It was close, too close for me to be confident that we would win.”
“But did we?” Boyes demanded, “…did we win?”

***

Jim had taken Sammy’s advice and tried to banish the worry from his mind and finding it rather difficult. Sometime during the night he had fallen asleep but did not dream. The morning sun finally came streaming through the window of their cell, filling the room with light and waking him from his slumber. Lewis was awake, lying on his bed, his eyes open gazing up to the roof. He had hardly spoken the last few days leading Jim to suspect that he still pined for Victoria, or found the situation more than he could bear. Jim left him to his thoughts, pulling his blanket away and swinging his legs over the side, he stretched, trying to iron out the kinks gained from a night on a hard bed. Sammy’s eyes were still closed - he seemed to still be asleep and in the same position as last night, unmoved and serene.
Far off there were bells calling, ringing for almost fifteen minutes, their clear resonant tones could be heard echoing from hills that surrounded the town. Jim knew there was something happening and he expected it was about them. When they became silent again he relaxed. As Sammy had pointed out the decision was already made and worrying on the outcome was pointless. Jim’s view differed from Sammy’s in that he was not confident that the outcome would go their way. He lay back against the wall, breathing in and out slowly, almost meditatively until he came back to reality - Sammy spoke, still on his bed with his eyes closed, a pronouncement of doom:
“Here they are,” he whispered, “They’ve come for us.”
Seconds later the lock of the door began being manipulated, a key turning noisily through the mechanism, bars which held the metal door closed withdrawn. With the grating noise of un-oiled hinges the door slowly swung inwards admitting a view from the corridor outside. A detachment stood there, armed and ready to take them away.

***

The city in reality was nowhere near as pretty as it promised to be at night. Twelve hours earlier it was awash with lights and colour, teaming with the rich and gaudy, the houses beautiful and large. In broad daylight however, the truth was completely different.
Sitting on the lower shore of a lake, part of the river they had followed the previous day, Trade Town was in fact a warehouse surrounded by dwellings. Those houses were mostly poor, containing the workers required to maintain a relentless machine designed to make money primarily, with the secondary goal of moving man and material.
The richer houses, lying in a walled enclave in the southern portion of the city were a minority. The sea of poorer – in some cases, of slum quality – houses surrounded them, rising and falling in heights like waves, the drab blue-grey colours of their roofs adding to the analogy. Smoke rose from cooking and heating fires as black, greasy columns to the sky joining the larger plumes emanating from industry on the western edge. In the sky flew large ugly birds, forever circling, forever diving to the city, forever climbing away to start the cycle again. The birds congregated above all else on the docks which sat like a cancer on the shore to the lake. Squat ships were tied there, sitting low in the water after being loaded to capacity with goods, either incoming or outgoing. All around wooden crates stood in tall piles on the docks and in the huge compound which sat in the centre of the city. Both day and night these crates moved back and forth to the dock and to the roads, a relentless exchange of materials designed to keep a country fed and supplied.

***

Emily sat at the window, looking over the landscape before her, a different appearance she had briefly seen the night before. Below, the street was full of activity, the wheels of commerce that slowed during the night were moving again at speed, and through that hustle and bustle moved a line of red uniformed men. Moving indifferently through the throng which parted before them, six guards - spears in hand and swords at their sides - marched up to the gate and were admitted immediately.
Emily sighed and came away. “They’re here.”

***

Pushed and shoved from the cells into the working area of the watch house, the three were introduced to chairs that stood along the black wall. All about the room, the guards sat or stood themselves, some entertained by games, others by conversation.  Most seemed uninterested in the arrival of the prisoners, barely looking up from their diversions. Jim was drawn to four of them in red, smartly dressed, and looking out of place in this basic environment. One of them, Jim assumed the leader, sat relaxed in a chair by the cooking fire in the centre of the room, drinking tea from a delicate and ornate cup – the activity in direct contrast to the activities of the remainder of the room. The largest of the guards who had escorted them from their cells put a strong hand on Jim’s shoulder, pushing him down.
“Sit.”
Jim was known for a smart comment or two but this time he kept his tongue, there were events taking place that he could not affect, could not predict and could not know. Keeping his ears and eyes open, he searched the faces of those around him for any sign of their fate, any news.
Sammy sat next to him, his eyes were closed and he seemed immune to all around him. Relaxed and sitting still, he hardly moved save for his lips which seemed to form miniscule, silent words, his friends impassive demeanour gave Jim no comfort. Lewis, at the other side of the big man, had his head down in his own thoughts which had been his way for many days. Jim turned a looked again to his captors and caught the captain of the red guards looking back at him, a thin smile of a man who enjoyed his work and was soon to entertain himself again.
Sitting for an hour was no easy task. Jims’ legs were as numb as was his backside and his nerves increasingly deteriorated as time wore on with no news or sign. 
Then it came. 
Through the door entered a messenger, marching over to one of the senior guards and whispering in his ear. There were questions back and a final nod of understanding, with the receiver excusing the messenger and passing the news himself on to the red dressed captain. A call and a wave later and the three were pulled up onto their feet and pushed to the doorway. Jim could not resist the temptation for a chance to annoy and detain even for just a few moments, after all – whatever had been decided, had been done, had been done without him. Nothing he could do or say could change it.
“What, no breakfast?” he asked politely.
The captain stopped and shook his head in disbelief. “Breakfast?”
“We haven’t had supper or breakfast. Surely you’re not going to send us on our way with an empty stomach?”
With a commanding hand, the captain halted the exit and turned to a servant tending the pot that was very recently over the cooking fire and now standing on a metal stand. “He wants breakfast.”
The servant shrugged at the instruction and lifted the lid of the pot with a thick rag in his hand. The smell from whatever sat inside permeated the room and banished any hunger that had been recently grinding in Jim’s belly. The Captain looked with sadistic glee as Jim’s expression changed from elation to distain in a matter of seconds. He made no move to look in the pot so the captain took a heavy wooden spoon from a bench and drew out a portion from the pot, letting the contents fall back in, in wet sloppy chunks, showing Jim what he was missing. 
“No?”
“Ah, no…” Jim declined, “…thanks all the same.”
Dropping the spoon into the pot his expression moved to one of annoyance. They had somewhere to be and he was clearly vexed that this prisoner had drawn him into a distraction. “Can we go now?”
Jim smiled his mission complete. “After you.”
Then he felt a hand behind his back, pushing him out through the main doorway and out into the sunlight, into a mass of moving people and business beyond.
The watch house was situated on the eastern side of the city well within the conglomeration of poor houses and away from the rich section with its high wall. The guards yelled and abused those who stood in their way, pushing forcibly through the people who had stopped to stare at the spectacle. Ten minutes after leaving the watch house, Jim noticed a throng following them and he started to assume the worst. The road widened and the group marched down to a larger square which overlooked the docks, and which had, at its centre, a platform with a block sitting on its surface for all to see, notched with a oval cut down from the top to accommodate a head and neck. Dark stains, black with sun and time, marred its front and gave him no misunderstanding of the platforms purpose. The throng followed behind, sensing something important was happening but stopped some distance behind allowing the guards to round to the back of the platform and disappear from sight.
The others were there at the rear. Emily stood with resignation clear on her face, dressed in her utilities and boots. She smiled weakly as they caught sight of each other; she looked tired and concerned but not upset. Daniel was there also, on a stretcher, looking pale and drawn but in no distress, certainly alive, but seemingly unaware of his surroundings and situation. Off to the side, giving the impression of distance, stood the elder and his wife and the two judges, their expressions neutral and unreadable. Four others also stood next to them - one Jim had seen briefly, one of the judges in the city, but the other three he did not know. One was obviously a guard with special abilities - thick set with powerful arms and Jim imagined him with a hooded mask of the executioner. The other two looked more like professionals, what they did was not clear, perhaps they were officials, here to see the job done properly.
The two detachments joined together, the leaders of the two lines conferring briefly and thereafter turning to the thickset guard and nodding.
“Let’s get this over with.” He said finally, motioning to the red guards which had spread around the group, drawing the prisoners in like a net towards him. Jim stood nervously waiting for the pronouncement. Sammy waited patiently, a small smile on his face, sure of himself and the outcome.
The news had spread through the rest of the city rapidly and the people were coming. Very quickly the square had filled, they were expecting the entertainment that they came here to view. Jim turned, looking out over the expectant faces, and knew what was coming.

Chapter Twenty-Five

“What? Kill you? Are you mad?”
The thickset guard looked at Jim as if he was unbalanced. He spoke to the officer impatiently who seemed amused that he had tricked the smart mouthed prisoner into thinking this was in fact an executioner’s party.
“I’ve no time for this,” he grumbled, turning to the lieutenant, “I’ve got a lot on today. They’re all yours Vincent. Good luck with them.”
Turning on his heal, he was gone, pushing his way through the people gathered - who had realized nothing was going to transpire and were dispersing with disappointment.
“I don’t understand,” Jim said to the others. “What just happened?”
Emily smiled weakly. “We won, Jim. We’re going to the king.”
Next to him, Sammy started to chuckle, his prophecy fulfilled. Jim turned to him and shook his head, amazed at how quickly things can turn – for good or ill.

***

Events progressed slowly from thereon. The Arbitrator arrived almost an hour later, discussed the terms of transport and departed, returning some time later with an offer much higher than expected. The presence of the injured Daniel and the haste that was required combined to elevate the price. The Chief Justice starred down the Arbitrator but he was unwavering until the captain appeared indicating his involvement. With an audible sigh the little man departed again, returning very soon after with a second, more reasonable tariff.
Boyes explained that the king’s men were involved in protecting the interests of the Company several times in the past and there was an understanding between the two, including a standard price for transport to which the captain silently insisted upon receiving. Jim had long suspected that the Boyes was more cosmopolitan than a simple village elder. With every day of their journey his impression of the man deepened.
With the arrangements made, the group found the boat that would take them to the Interchange, a squat scow with a single mast, being loaded probably beyond its capacity, manned by a crew of shifty characters. Jim secretly doubted they would make this ‘Interchange’ alive.
Having missed the morning outgoing tide there was nothing to do but wait for it to turn again. Over the next hour the first of the boats rowed in from the river and found their place on the dock. The people who worked there never stopped. There was always something to load or to carry off, something to store or to retrieve, and all the while the Company kept a watchful eye on all the proceedings, counting the profits and ordering the movements.
The captain of their boat ordered a canvas awning to be installed on the deck for his passengers, a luxury on this boat, something he never did unless carrying human cargo. Genty and Byrne loaded their belongings under the shade and called the others on. The two soldiers had been retained by Avolio for the duration of the journey wherever it would take them. Perhaps they felt that there something further ahead that would satisfy their want for action. From fear of them getting in the way of the loading, the captain ordered them all on the boat, leaving the kings guard to wait in the square. The party sat, resigned to a long wait. The tide would turn again at mid-afternoon and the boat would set out sometime after that when the current would assist them down the river.

***

Emily was tired - she had not slept that night from worry – worry about Daniel and also all of their fates. For a time it all rested on her and if she hadn’t managed to convince the Chief Justice to hear their case favourably then it was likely all would have been lost. The weight of that responsibility had been heavy in her mind, swirling through her thoughts as she lay on her bed. She had no idea what the decision of the council meant, what fronting the king would entail. She knew nothing of the procedure they had begun or of their chances now that they were heading for the palace. All she knew was that they were alive, right at that moment - and for a short time in the future. At least for the time being she could relax.
She sat lost in her thoughts and Jim came in next to her, dragging her back to the present, bringing a smile to her lips.
“Hey,” he said.
“You’re looking better.”
“Thanks.” He didn’t return the compliment, on the contrary, “You look tired.”
“I am tired.”
He looked serious. “You took on a lot last night. I’m sorry I wasn’t any help.”
“You were in jail again,” she said, offering him a wan smile, “…but I forgive you.”
Jim took her mock acceptance of an unvoiced apology in the spirit it was delivered. He bowed his head in an equal level of mock humility.
“Thanks. I appreciate that.” His face took on an expression of concern. “Seriously though, you should try and get some sleep while you can.”
The work of loading the vessel continued unabated. “Are you kidding?” she quipped, “Sleep around here?”
“You should try,” he pressed. “Before you do though, can you tell me what’s happening with Daniel?”
Her face drew to a mask of sadness. “He could have died you know?” she told him.
Jim frowned. “What was that boy thinking?”
“I don’t think he was thinking. Anyway, he may have helped us without realizing it. Things could have been a lot worse for us if Avolio had been killed.”
Jim’s forehead creased with confusion, Jim had not seen what Emily had seen, did not understand that the judge was in conflict, unable to commit to any one side but secretly inspired to help them. Emily had sensed this. She believed that there was more to Avolio’s motives than what he was telling. 
           “How so?” he asked her quizzically.
“Believe it or not, I think Avolio is on our side,” she explained. “I know he acts like he’s with Tobias but I think he’s been helping us quietly. If he’d been killed then I’m not sure the Chief Justice would have helped us the way he did. Tobias would have got in and swayed things his way and we could all be dead right now.”
 “So…” Jim nodded back over to their injured friend lying under the shade. “…Daniel? The surgeon didn’t fix him?”
“He saved him, that’s enough isn’t it? Daniel’s lung is still collapsed and they tell me that’ll need to be fixed. The doctor here says he knows someone who can help, but it still could be too late.”
“Okay, well, we’ll just have to see how things go.” His belly growled and he was reminded of something. “I’ll let you get some rest. I haven’t had dinner or breakfast, I’m starving.”

Emily received some sleep, fleeting though it was. It was definitely too noisy while the boat was at the dock and loading was being undertaken. The others rested as they could, and there was none of the usual talk that existed between them. The events of the last few days had exhausted them physically and mentally. 
Only Tobias did not sit with them, choosing to sit at the bow in the sun, his balding head sweaty in the heat. Sitting with his back to them on a wooden stool, he was seemingly lost in thought. His eyes were open but gazing far off into the distance to things that could not be seen except in his mind. The others left him to his thoughts, he was not part of them, and he was the antagonist. He was the cause of all of their worries. Even Avolio did not join him; he sat quietly with them, in the shade, lost in his thoughts as well, fighting his own demons.
Finally the tide turned. It reached its full height around mid-afternoon, swelling on the banks. When it started to slowly retreat back down the river, the captain rallied his crew, finalizing the arrangements to leave, and the boat pulled away from the dock. It moved under oar, following three other boats as they turned gently to face the river opening.
Turning to port in a broad sweep, they passed the northern part of Trade Town with its dockyard and storehouses off the starboard rail. Boyes explained the relationship between the two parts of the city, the north dealing with cargo from the northern part of the kingdom and the southern from the south. All of the workers lived in the south, as did the merchants. From these two ports materials were moved in and out of the inland efficiently, transported to a place called ‘The Interchange’ and to the remainder of the kingdom via The Western Sea routes.
Jim became disorientated at this point. His idea of their location was thrown right out of perspective. Up until then he had been happy to go where he was led, not quite understanding precisely where he was, but having a vague concept. To his recollection there was no ‘Western Sea’ in their vicinity. To the west of their position there was a vast inland which stretched for thousands and thousands of kilometres until the Indian Ocean was reached on the west coast of the continent. They had travelled only six days to reach Trade Town from the mountains, on foot and on horseback. It was impossible for there to be a sea where they told him there was one. Jim smiled sceptically and waited for confirmation, realizing as he had many times in the past, that this was a changed world and that he needed to change in many ways to accept it. The water flowed strong towards where Boyes insisted was the coast, a tributary Jim did not know. 
“What’s this river called?” he asked the elder.
“The ancients called it ‘The Mharae’.”

***

The Mharae River flowed between steep sided hills, not steep enough to be called a gorge, but steep enough to form a striking contrast between the river and the landscape. The Northern Trade Town disappeared from view as the boat made between two hills which initially seemed to be one line, blocking their way. As they neared it, they could see there was a passage, easily wide enough to admit them, and they passed through easily. Once at the other side the captain ordered half the sails be set, making use of a moderate breeze coming from the east, catching in the sail and pushing them forward. Gratefully, the crew stored the oars, waiting expectantly for the commands of the captain who ruled from the tiller.
Again the river closed in, and again opened up, a lake appearing off the port side. Turning to the north, the boat passed through another opening then west again. The hills formed up on each side, lined with the short trees that were common in the kingdom which were the resting places of birds which were becoming more prevalent the further they travelled down the river.
While the current reached its swiftest the wind died down, the result being the boat slowed a little on its journey. It had been a full two hours since they had left the town on the river and now the sun was dead ahead and dropping to the horizon. There was still a good three hours of light left in the day, and Boyes was confident that there was enough to reach their destination.

***

Boyes searched through his pack expectantly. He was hungry, perhaps bored enough to find some activity in eating, and looking for sustenance. His clothing that was stacked at the top hampered his investigation so he pulled them all out onto the deck and rummaged further down. Miscellaneous items were pulled out as well and he almost had the bag emptied when he noticed something in his hand, something he had pulled out last.

***

Sammy stood by the starboard rail admiring the land as it passed slowly by, the light a yellow tinge of sunset. He was distracted by the elder who called his name from behind.
“Sammy…”
Turning his head, Sammy glanced at the elder and looked down at what was in Boyes’s hand. This time he turned fully. The elder was still there smiling. His hand was out, holding something. It was black, leather bound. 
His book.
“Laydon gave me this to hold for you,” he explained. “You know, I must have looked through my bag a thousand times and not seen it, but here it is.”
He took a step towards the big, dark skinned man with the book extended out for Sammy to take. Which he did, looking at it like a long, lost friend.
“Thank you.”

***

Jim, who sat under the awning, watching the crew at their work, observed the interaction with vague interest until the book was produced. Sammy had taken it and was staring at its cover, and Boyes had returned to his bag and the promise of food. Looking up, the big man caught Jim’s eye and held the book up, the light catching its cover. Jim smiled and shook his head. Sammy smiled back, raising his eyebrows quickly several times. Twice on the same day his friend had proved he had foresight. Moreover the total lack of worry or concern over their fate had been initially disconcerting – now understandable in the context of twice realized prophesy. Standing, and then sauntering over to the rail, Jim went to congratulate his friend on the arrival of the awaited book.

***

Another watched the exchange, leaning against the port rail. The judge was initially uninterested in anything that was occurring on the deck, until the book was held up into the light. He narrowed his eyes at the sight, his mind now working overtime, possibilities and plans being assessed and discounted. The book had been within his grasp all along; it had been with the elder, not at the stairs with the missing two. 
He could now not openly demand the book as he could have before the council’s verdict – at least not without drawing the others to the presence and contents of the book itself, something he wished to avoid. Now, he simply did not have the authority. Now the guards were responsible for them. Silently cursing at his misfortune, he started to draw all his thoughts together in the form of a plan. This plan would have to be clever, have to be secret and would have to involve someone on the inside.

***

“It turned up after all,” Jim observed.
Sammy smiled. “I told you I wasn’t worried.”
“You’re starting to look a little smug, my friend.”
The big man looked a little wounded, although it was likely to be an act. “I was right.”
“Yes, you were,” Jim agreed. “Is there anything else you want to share? Some message from beyond?” He wiggled his fingers in the air.
“No. Either way, you would be too sceptical to accept anything anyway.”
“Sceptical?” Jim tried to sound offended.
“I’m not the only one. I said Emily shared what I saw. Perhaps the others have too. What about Daniel? I don’t know why he did what he did, but there was definitely something behind it.”
Jim’s face registered some understanding of the concept. He looked pained, like there was some conflict in his mind.
“You too?” Sammy asked, realizing Jim was part of it. “What did you see?”
“It was nothing.”
“Tell me anyway. I want to know.”
With a sigh Jim regaled the dream he had and the circumstances behind it. Sammy listened intently, trying to get past the thick colouring of sarcasm that the teller applied.
When the tale was told, Sammy smiled ever so slightly. “Well, at least we know we’re doing all the right things.”
Jim frowned - he still wasn’t sure what it all meant. Sammy may have been reading too much into this, may have seen something that was not there.
“How’s that?” he scoffed, ‘Keep doing what you are doing’? We could do anything and that would still work. I’ll need a little more than that before I risk our lives with those sorts of vague ideas.”

***

Having turned southward, their boat continued on down the river which had widened out even further. The hills to their starboard became steeper, forming small ranges that jutted out into the water, seemingly blocking their path again. The captains expertly piloted their scows around these promontories, knowing the deep water of the channel better than they knew anything else. The last of which, passed to the starboard and they turned to the west again, following the northern shoreline for little under an hour. They turned southward again, making their way through another pass and then quickly turning west again. The river widened further and ahead there was open water and the headlands could be seen on either side, with the sun sinking into the horizon before them with a fiery tail that extended down, touching the bow of their craft.
A call from the bow signalled the all clear, the ocean ahead was calm and could be traversed without danger. The captain ordered the sails up, hoping to catch some of the winds that came up from the south. Ahead, the others had done the same, and the group gathered speed, cutting through the dark water easily. The wind did come up, a slight breeze at first, then to a steady gust that billowed the canvas that was unfurled above them. The northern land fell away into a bay, then a section of land that came up gently from the water to a collection of small hills. A house sat there and a flagpole that could be seen for some considerable distance. A green flag flew on the pole, the sign of safety - the sign to proceed.
Steep hills appeared again on the northern shore while the southern side fell away. The water darkened and became deeper, the surface whilst not choppy, provided long undulating waves which caused the boats to surge upwards and then sink gently down into the troughs. The air, which had been tinged with salt for at least an hour prior, now was thick with spray. They faced the open ocean, rushing to complete the remaining distance to The Interchange before the light faded completely.
The procession became a line of lights that made steady progress away from land. The captain of the lead vessel took his bearings from the disappearing sun and set the pace and heading, northerly this time. Now clear of the land, the wind picked up again, elevating the mood of the crew who were hoping to be at the port as quickly as possible so as to maximize tavern-time. A cry from in front – the boats were reasonably close together and sound carried well between them – indicated the sighting of The First Light, a beacon set on an island that constituted one corner of the port. It was still some distance further on, but was also closing rapidly.
The sun had set, the sky still filled with its remnants, with hues of red and gold filling the clouds that hung over the sea to the west. The beacon light grew brighter, seeming to be edging to the starboard side, make room for another light further off, The Second Light. Passing the first, the island to which it sat upon dimly visible in the fading light, the line of boats travelled another ten minutes at that heading and then turned hard to starboard between the first and second beacons and into the port.
Slowing now as they moved down the accepted traffic channel between moored ships, huge dark shapes, the line of boats coasted toward the docks. The island stretched out along their port side, a line of hills rising from the waterline, adorned with tiny sparkles, evidence of houses and of human presence over the entire island. Up ahead lay the dock with its long fingers stretching out into the bay with lanterns held by men moving up and down the length of the wharfs. The boats that were ahead moved into their places in turn guided by a single light swinging back and forth at the end of each berth. 
Finally their turn came. The captain had ordered the sails down, now only by oar did they approach, and slowly. The vessel glided gently to the side of the wharf, bumping two, three times, against the wooden posts. Ropes were tossed from the side and tied securely, and they finally came to a halt.
All around them sprung into activity. The boat was tied more securely to its berth, sails were stowed properly and planks were dropped into place to allow people and materials to move off the vessel efficiently. The captain required the passengers to alight first, not desiring them to be in the way and so they disembarked, carrying their belongings over the gangway onto the wooden dock. Slowly and carefully, still on his stretcher, Daniel was brought over with Genty and Byrne at one end and two of the guards on the other. Once over, the quartet of carriers turned and headed left, down the dock toward the land, leading the way for the others who trudged slowly behind.

***

Jim woke the following morning, with the sound of the shutters of his window banging relentlessly against the frame. Alone in his own room, something he had not had for many, months, he had slept heavily. It had been quite late when he had fallen onto his bed the previous night - there had been preparations for their accommodation and the matter of Daniel’s care. There was no watch-house on this island and so the lieutenant of the guard (Jim had heard him called Vincent) was forced to house them in one of the inns. Only the single rooms were available and the prisoners and all and sundry were accommodated in something vaguely approaching style.
Now he woke alone to the noise of the shutters and the howl of the wind and try as he may, he could not bury himself down under the warm and heavy covers enough to keep out the din. He was forced to rise, dress and search for breakfast as his belly had finally awoken and was indicating its presence and state of emptiness in terms that could not be ignored.
Like all of the places he had been in of this type – what he would have called “motels” in a previous life – each room entered into a hall. The hall passed into the common room via stairs at the end of the passage. The vestiges of sleep still hung on him, the remnants of cloudiness persisting in his brain, and he staggered slowly down the stairs to the common looking for a familiar face and finding none.
The common was like all others he had seen. Large wooden tables for the diners, a fire in the middle (this one was dormant) and a counter running down one side of the room with a kitchen behind. Many of the patrons were there, sitting in groups and talking amongst themselves, paying him no heed, and likewise he was not interested in their presence. He needed to fill his belly.
Jim found cakes on the grill and ordered some from a short, squat innkeeper of vaguely Mediterranean decent. Jim learned two things over breakfast: people were still willing to pay for the pleasure of his company, and he was the first to surface that day. He suspected some of his companions had a later night that he had.

A squall had blown in from the south during the night and promised to persist throughout the day, closing the port to all traffic, leaving the tub that had transported them from Trade Town and the others in the flotilla, stranded. Consequently the population had swollen a little with crews who would have been working that day also finding they had nothing to do – save drink in the tavern.
Having arrived during the night, he had virtually no recollection of the layout of the island and without any official permission, pushed his way through the front door of the inn and out onto the street. Pulling his coat tight around him for protection against the chill wind blowing up from the south, he walked down a simple packed earth street with the houses on his left boarded up against the wind and a grassy verge to his right, running down to rocks and then the water of the port. Standing some height from the churning waters of the seaport, he was afforded an excellent view, causing him to stop and take in what was before him.
The harbour was spread out to his right, a huge open area bounded by the land he was standing on and a narrow strip over ten kilometres long, jutting out towards the south east. On this strip sat the docks, a good two thirds of the length taken up with warehouses and containers. Growing out from the strip like fingers the berths stretched out into the bay, boats that arrived the night before were moored there, rocking chaotically in the swell. There was no one on the docks today - there was no work for them. Down in the south-west corner of the cove there was another island, small, irregular, and featureless except for a signal fire, dormant, but ready to be lit when the sun went down to guide the ships to harbour. It was this fire that brought them here. It was the First Light.
The road he was on crossed another, forming an intersection that sent paths off toward the four parts of the island. Ahead the track, now wide enough to allow two carts to pass easily, entered a gap between long stone walls. The entrance was guarded by serious men in black, sporting dangerous weapons. Clearly this was not a place where general admission was permitted. Turning to the right, this road - worn from countless feet and vehicles - passed straight down to the docks and right through to the end of the strip. The wind whipped waves over the side of the wharf, spraying salt water over the road and to the buildings that ran parallel with it. There seemed no point going down, it was unlikely that there was anything to see and he had no real desire to get wet. 
The left track climbed up the hill to the highest point of the island, a long ridge of hills that formed its backbone. He climbed it, wishing to get a better view, passing lines of houses and buildings on the way to the top. Finally he stood there on the summit, looking down on the town and dockyards that made up the Interchange, constantly buffered by the gale which sought to blow him off his feet and into the sea.
The vast Western Sea stretched out impossibly behind him, torn up by the wind into deep dark water and white foamy waves. At the other side of the hill the houses were shielded from most of the noise from the clash of rocks and water, but here there was no such protection, filling his ears with the rumble and crash of elements. What Boyes had said was true. There was a sea here where he had expected nothing but land beyond what the eye could see. His world had changed dramatically and he had no way of knowing what had happened, or how it had occurred. But the sea was there, there was no denying it.
Turning again he considered the port, this time from a greater elevation, windswept, it continued to be devoid of activity. The harbour was filled with moored ships of all sizes, anchored to the bed and tossed by the swell. Further out beyond the relative safety of the port, out past the small island that held the First Light, larger ships, ten in total, sat heavy in the churning seas. Tied to the bed by several thick iron chains, the huge black vessels laid imposingly upon the torrid swell. 
Further on the coast rose up from the undulating waters, flat lands gently moving on to hills. Farms could be seen up and down the coast, small farms producing small rewards, people eking out a living with the elements hard against them.
He stood there, regarding the land and sea around him for a long time, thinking through all that had happened to him these past months, and all that was ahead. It would be easy to let go and think like Sammy. It would be easy just to let things happen, secure in the knowledge that there was some plan in progress that he was a part of, but Jim was not that kind of man. He needed to know what was going on, what was the plan, where he was going. He could not just let it go.
Walking down the hill again and back to the inn, he passed several of the inhabitants. They stood back from him, giving him odd looks, not making eye contact and not replying to his greetings. This was not surprising - he has taller than them all, imposing in height and looks. He was unshaven and his hair was now past his shoulders. There was a large ugly purple scar over his right eye that made him something to behold. Pulling his coat closer against the wind that now blew into his face he trudged back to the inn door and pushed his way in and away from the elements.

By midmorning the common room had cleared, the patrons moving on to the tasks they had planned for the day. There was a general feeling of laziness for no one was going anywhere today, the winds had seen to that. Jim, having just returned from his investigations outside, stood at the doorway leading into the room. Voices to which he had become familiar caused him to stop at the bottom of the stairs leading to the rooms, turn and look for their sources.
“Finally up I see,” he commented to them, sitting at the table having breakfast.
The first to answer was the lieutenant, the one who had released him from the watch house yesterday morning. His faced showed some consternation. “Where have you been?” he demanded, “You’re not supposed to be walking around alone.”
Jim shrugged indifferently. “Outside… I was having a poke around.”
“You are under guard,” the lieutenant reminded him.
“Some guard,” Jim snorted, “I just walked out.”
Jim was a little concerned about the lieutenant’s ire over his morning stroll but he chose to conceal it. He found an empty seat opposite his pseudo-captor and he used it, pushing between Emily and Sammy. They had a late breakfast, the evidence of same scattered over the table.
“You’ve eaten?” Emily asked him.
He nodded, enquiring about Daniel. His injured friend was better, he could see it in the face of Amelia; her relaxed countenance telling volumes.
“The surgeon saw him again this morning,” she explained, “The treatment seems to be working, which has surprised him.”
The second their boat pulled into the docks the previous night, Nathan, the surgeon’s assistant leapt nimbly onto the wharf, disappearing quickly into the night. The surgeon from The Interchange, a gruff, unpleasant looking man, was waiting at the inn as Daniel was carried slowly up the road. This new doctor, one called Reusche, along with the other doctors, locked themselves in the room with their friend. He was looking better after Nader stabbed him brutally in the chest to relieve the pressure therein, but Jim was told he was still not out of danger. Principal among his problems was the amount of time between injury and definitive treatment. With every passing day the possibility of his recovery drew slimmer. This new surgeon knew what had to be done - he was familiar with war injuries.
Daniel laid there, a large rubber tube coming from his side which had its other end sitting in a glass jar filled with water. With every breath bubbles came from the tube into the vessel, rising to the top of the liquid. The surgeon explained carefully what had been done. It was an ancient treatment that had great success; very few knew of it, and even fewer could perform it. Daniel was lucky, and it turned out he was also resilient. Against the predictions of Reusche, the treatment seemed to be making a difference. They would know more by the end of the day, but the indications were good.
For some reason Jim felt good that morning, so good he was ignoring the usual pessimistic tendencies that usually ruled his outlook.
“Oh well,” he sighed, “Fingers crossed.”
Looking back to the Lieutenant again he offered some sort of apology. “Sorry about my morning walk. I should have told someone but there was no one around. I’ll ask first next time.”
“I would appreciate that.”
“No problem. Anyway, where am I going to go? This is a little island and no one is going anywhere today.”
Holding his finger up to emphasize the howl that emanated from the gale passing around the building, Jim smiled.
“What’s the weather like?” Emily asked.
He smiled. “Windy.”
Now a question that had been mulling around in his mind all morning came to the front of his mind. Something seemed out of place here, so out of place it had been bothering him. He was not sure who to ask but it seemed that the problem was military in nature, so the best person to ask who was readily at hand was the man sitting opposite.
“Excuse me, Lieutenant. I have a question.”
The officer raised his brows at the request. “Yes?”
“What’s with the guys over on the north side of the island, the unhappy looking bunch in black? Are they your army?”
“No,” he shook his head, “…not ours. That would be the Villers. They lease the compound from the Company.”
“They’re not from here, from this country then?”
The Lieutenants face screwed up with distaste. “No, they’re from the north. We have a treaty with them, we get trade and they get this base. They’re not any trouble though, there is only a few of them.”
This was what had Jim bothered: not that they were there, but how many of them there were.
“So, that’s their ships out past the port then?” Jim asked quietly.
“Ship…” the lieutenant corrected him blandly.
Jim shook his head, indicating in the action the reality of numbers.
“Ships?” the Lieutenant spluttered. “There should only be one. They’re only allowed one.”
“Really… Did someone tell them that? I counted ten.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Daniel had woken abruptly on the command of Marianna only to find he was about to be attacked again. An ominous figure stood over him, its hand raised, a wicked metal spike in the centre of its fist. Without mercy the spectre plunged the instrument of pain into Daniel’s chest, dragging him down into unconsciousness again. There he remained for a time, unknowing, uncaring and unaware of how he was hanging between life and The Great Oblivion.
Slowly he rose back into awareness, like he had dived to the bottom of the lake and was now floating back to the surface, like he was hungry for air. His lungs were burning with desire of that first breath, relieved only when finally breaking the surface and taking one huge gulp of freedom.
His eyes fluttered, stimulated by familiar voices, but he is as yet unable to open them. He listened, using the sounds to bring him slowly back to them, listening for anything that can connect him with the reality around him. He knew there are three of them standing near him, two women and a man - they talked over him as if he couldn’t hear them or if he was already dead. The man spoke again, giving him the reassurance that he needed, he tried then to break the surface, to breathe the free air, to wake and live.
“He looks a lot better,” Sammy observed hopefully.
He tired to open his eyes again and this time they obeyed, unfocused at first, only vague shapes were visible, but it was clearing. His action, whilst not ostentatious, was enough to give them hope.
“Hello! He’s awake,” Sammy spoke again - as if the hope in the big, dark mans’ voice had found its realisation.
It was Amelia’s face that came within a hands’ span from his own; he focused easily on the face of his doctor. 
“You’re right,” she agreed.
She smiled, he could see that clearly, and her face stimulated a memory, triggering in him a need.
When he spoke it came in a whisper, barely audible, the only real evidence of it was that his lips moved.
“What did he say?” Emily was not too far away and she had seen his attempt to speak.
Drawing breath to the extent that it felt like his chest caught fire - he spoke again, enough for them all to hear. Three times he did it; three short sentences: “She told me. She wants me to have it -her flame.”
The effort exhausted him and he closed his eyes again, pretending to be asleep, but he was still listening.
“What did that mean by that? What’s ‘Her flame’?” Emily was asking.
“He didn’t mean anything by it,” Amelia answered crisply, but in her voice he could detect shock, perhaps even fear. She moved quickly to cover it, to hide the import of his words. “He’s delirious, that’s all.”
“But still… He sounded like he…”
The doctor interrupted. “It was nothing. Who knows what people will say when they go in and out of unconsciousness.”
“She’s right,” Sammy added, “…It didn’t make any sense to me. We should let him rest. I’ll tell the others there’s been some progress.”
A door opened and shut again and then there was silence. Without stimulation he went to sleep again but did not dream.

***

The previous two days had been frustrating for the lieutenant. One of the party he was escorting to the city had been deathly unwell and there had been a delay. He was slowly improving but it was likely to be some time before the group could proceed. There was one advantage to the delay: he could get to the bottom of the mystery that lay in just off the island to the south. One of the detained, his name being Jim, had not lied. There were 10 ships anchored there. More than that, the population behind the wall, the Villers compound, had grown sizeably. From a vantage point up on the hill he could see them. They did not lounge indolently, taking advantage of the lull in activity. No, they trained. In ordered groups they advanced on invisible foes. They charged unseen vanguards. There was a terrible operation in progress. Someone was likely to be in some amount of trouble, and soon.
And so, two days after arriving on the island, Vincent sat on a wall at the crossroads staring at the compound, chewing over his thoughts alone. That was where, Jim had found him. Yesterday the man had given up the pretence of being under arrest. Now he went where he pleased and for now the lieutenant accepted it.
“Hey, there you are.”
Vincent turned slowly, his thoughts have been consuming his attention and he didn’t notice the tall mans arrival. “What is it?” he asked irritably.
Jim shrugged. “Never mind. If you don’t want to know what I’ve found out then that’s up to you.”
“What?” Jim had shown some knowledge of military things and an interest in what was going on behind the wall. Vincent could not help but sound intrigued.
Jim was standing almost directly in front of Vincent’s view. “The surgeon from their camp paid a visit this morning to check on Daniel,” he began.
The Lieutenant raised his eyebrows and held them there. He was expecting more.
“Apparently there’s an ambassador here. That’s his ‘retinue’.” Jim nodded subtly in the direction of the Villers camp.
“How did you find that out?”
“I asked him. I don’t think it was a secret but you might not have been able to ask him. I thought I’d give it a go.”
Vincent looked past his prisoner, out to the compound again with its men parading about in the square beyond the gate.
“Ah…” he nodded, understanding, “…the treaty. Still, that is a lot of men for a retinue, a lot of men.”
Jim turned his head slowly, gazing at what the Lieutenant was seeing. “Yep,” he agreed, “It sure is a lot of men.”

***

Daniel was making steady improvement. According to the Villers surgeon the young man’s lung had all but reinflated. He was surprised the treatment had worked - being convinced too much time had elapsed from injury to the procedure and was sure infection would be the secondary killer. It transpired that the ancient method worked against all scepticism and there was still no sign of infection. Amelia was pleased; she had a long and involved history with him and had no desire to see him die under such circumstances. Although he was still by no means out of danger, his recovery was extremely promising.
She was so much more relaxed as she descended the stairs to the common room for breakfast. Having spent the good part of the morning in with her patient she would have almost missed the meal entirely. Boyes had seen to her needs, he had something put aside, ready for her when she came down. The room was almost empty - a solitary person sat at the end of the room, his back to her, facing out the window.
She knew him - he was one of the four. She had seen him many times in the past week in exactly this same position: alone, silent and brooding. With each time she promised herself that she would talk to him, get to the bottom of the problem, but with each instant there was something more pressing. With her latest patient improving as he was, the time never seemed better. Taking her breakfast, kindly reheated by the serving staff, she found a seat at the table he was sitting at. He was seated facing the reverse direction, gazing out the window, with his back to her. The sound of pottery hitting timber brought him out of his vacant stare. Slowly turning, he registered her presence in the corner of his eye, and then turned back to the window. He was not going to talk. She was going to have to try and coax him out.
“Good morning,” she offered.
He grunted back, he was definitely not going to make this easy for her. She decided to keep on talking in the hope she could wear him down.
“I hope you don’t mind. I hate eating alone.”
For a time it was as if she did. Lewis remained in his state of isolation, staring at the view through the window, not answering her gentle probing. When her breakfast was eaten she no longer had an excuse to sit near him, so rose without her task completed. She would have let it go entirely had Jim not walked in. She motioned for him to come over and handed the desolate young man into his care.

***

Jim stood over him, looking down at his unresponsive charge leaving Amelia to tactically retreat. Jim grabbed him by the collar and practically dragged him to his feet.
“Come on mate, let’s take a walk.”
Outside, in the blinding sunshine, Jim took his friend out to the headland where the Second Light beacon stood unlit. It was midmorning and to their left the water of the port shone with tiny sparkles, adding to the glare. It took them half an hour to reach the end of the land and now Jim was sure that they were alone. He decided along the way - having this friend walk in silence - he would face the problem face on.
“What’s going on?” he asked when they stopped at the edge of the island, looking over the sea and the black ships that rocked gently on the water. “You haven’t said a word in days and every one’s worried about you.”
“I’m fine,” was the flat response.
“No, you’re not,” the older man disagreed. “You’re not fine. You aren’t even close to fine. You’re not even on the same planet as fine. You don’t want to talk – I get that, but I can’t help you if you don’t. You and I aren’t leaving here until it happens. I don’t care if we’re here all day.”
Lewis lowered his head and gazed to the ground. With gentle persuasion the older man guided him to the grass by the beacon and sat next to him. Now Jim’s manner was more caring, softer. The young man’s outer shell was starting to crack and with a little pressure in the right places the pieces would start to fall off.
“What’s going on? Is it Vicky? We all know you miss her. We all know she means a lot to you. It must have been pretty hard leaving her.”
Lewis nodded. This was part of it, his love and loss for the tall village girl was breaking his heart, but there was something more.
Jim raised his brows, probing. “Maybe there’s something else too? I know we’ve all been through a lot. It’s been hard, what with the trial and the travelling, the fight and all.”
With the mention of the battle in the hills on the way to Trade Town, Lewis visibly tensed and drew a breath. In that instant Jim knew the cause.
“Was it the fight? Man that was bad. It’s okay to be shaken up by it, we all were. We all dealt with it in our own way.”
His shoulders started to shake, the memories of that evening starting to come back uncontrolled - they had been bottled up all this time, slowly eating away at his sanity. Instinctively Jim’s arm was around his shoulders, pulling the grieving man in. He was tainted - his innocence was gone now, washed away with blood. Now all he saw was the red liquid; lying on the ground, on his own hands.
“You’ve got to deal with it or it’ll kill you,” Jim told him. “I know you can work it through, you’re strong, and you’ve got the rest of us. We won’t let you down, you can lean on us.”
He was crying now, the trickle becoming a flood. He remembered it all, every detail as if he was back there again, the shouting, the dying.
“We killed them,” Lewis declared, his voice as broken as his spirit.
Jim spoke kindly and quietly, the realities of that situation. “They would have done the same to us. They left us no choice, we had to defend ourselves. They chose to fight us and they chose what happened to them. You can’t blame anyone but them for what happened.”
Jim let him cry for some time, he had a lot to get out, and when he was done, when the tears stopped, Lewis pulled away embarrassed by the closeness.
“Feel better?”
The young man wiped his nose on his sleeve. “Yeah.”
“You can talk to me, you know? We’ve been in this together from the very beginning, we’re friends. Don’t keep these things to yourself – please, talk to me.”
“Sure.”
“Now,” Jim said with a smile, “what about that other thing?”
“What?” Lewis was surprised. The conversation had moved on.
“Victoria?” Jim clarified.
The young man turned away, now he was embarrassed by his feelings, trying to hide how he really felt about the girl he had left.
“You love her, don’t you?” Jim pressed him.
Lewis seemed confused, shaking his head, “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” Jim asked him, incredulous. “That’s not what I saw. I saw the way you looked at her, and I saw how she looked at you.”
His friends’ eyes opened wide, he was shocked by the revelation. Jim had hit on something, and he was hoping to add some hope to the young man’s life.
“How did she…?” He couldn’t end the sentence.
Ah, the young, Jim thought, they’ve no idea what a look can mean.
“She loves you, you big idiot,” Jim explained patiently, “I saw that from the very first time she came over. No. I saw it when you stood up for her against Carl that night. He was saying she needed looking after, protecting her from people like you - and you said she looks like she can take care of herself - then it all got crazy. I saw her, though. You gave her more respect that moment than anyone had all her life, I think.” 
Jim smiled, feeling rather proud of himself. “Respect,” he added, “Chicks dig that.”
“What am I going to do?” Lewis groaned. “I’m going to lose her.”
Jim shook his head. “I don’t think so. She’s hooked. And you are too, anyone can see that. What are you going to do? I don’t know. I don’t think you should deny how you feel to yourself though. If you love her then don’t be afraid to admit it. We’ve all been in love, heck, I still am in love, only to someone who’s not here, and so I can understand perfectly what you’re going through. It’s tough but you just keep going, just keep remembering there is someone there for you, right?”
“I guess.”
“Good.” Jim was standing. “I’m heading back, you coming?”
The young man looked up at him, squinting against the sun, but appearing a little better. “I might stay here for a while. I need to think.”
“Okay. Oh… one more thing.”
Jim clenched his fist and pounded it soundly into Lewis’s right arm. The victim immediately grabbed the injured part in defence and vocalised surprise and pain. “You’ve got to toughen up,” he explained the sudden assault. “It’s okay to cry, but don’t make a habit of it.”
The smile of his face was indication enough of the levity of the action. Jim stood and turned to go. “See you back there,” he said waving back to Lewis as he headed up the path to the town.

***

As the days progressed, Avolio sought his own company more and more. Seeking the solitary places of the island, for which there were many, the judge sat and mulled over his problems.
Up till two weeks ago he had been content with his lot, chewing over his losses with growing thoughts of retaliation. His wife had chosen another and beyond the customary confrontation and assault of his rival he had not yet given any other thought. Now there was something else, something the other judge – the devious Tobias – had told him. This man, his contender and one of his colleges, was a subversive. This man was a poison in the land, and he would, if left unchecked spread his disease over the entire kingdom. Not only that, it was likely he was the leader. One way to kill a snake was to sever its head. His wife, the woman he still loved despite all that had transpired would be dragged down as well. He loved her too much to let that happen.
The real question lay not in anything other than how he would finish this, how he would rid himself and the kingdom of this man. Tobias said there was not enough evidence to bring him down and that there many never be enough. An accident may be required. Could he, in his position, in all his desire to do right, be the instigator of such an accident? How could he keep his hands clean and still eradicate this man from existence? How could he, in the face of all this, gain back the love and respect of his wife, something he desired more than anything else?
Thoughts raced through his head, murderous thoughts, until they consumed him. Until they were all he considered day and night. He kept to himself, joining the others only for meals, and filled his waking moments with machinations of dark deeds.

***

With both the weather and Daniel’s condition improving, plans were made to transport them all north to the city. The judges were no longer involved in the organisation - they now found themselves in the role of prosecutor, passing the responsibilities to the lieutenant. He seemed rather eager to get them going, even more than Avolio had done weeks ago but was resigned to wait until the injured young man recovered sufficiently to travel. In this matter Amelia and the surgeon Nader ruled supreme and would not broach any change in their orders.
With an air of authority that his position commanded, Vincent marched to the Port Master and arranged an open passage to the city on one of the larger ocean-going vessels that moved in the out of the port daily. He could, at any time, request and be granted berths on one of those vessels - he had only to present to the docks with his party and be given what he requested. It was another day before the Company were called upon to provide that passage, Amelia had announced Daniel’s fitness for travel and preparations were made to leave the following morning.
The weather was beautiful the next day. A blue cloudless sky greeted them, the sun promising to rise majestically, warming sea and earth. Out on the sparkling water in the bay a longboat moved slowly to the dockyards from one of the large ships moored out beyond the smaller island that formed part of the port boundary.
Vincent woke them all early, thumping on their doors one at a time until activity could be heard within. They had packed the night before and now only needed to replace their night wear with the clothing they would need for the day. Breakfast had been cooking an hour ago in preparation for their need but there had been two who had already taken it. Two were missing from that morning roll call. Two were nowhere to be seen.

***

Amelia had a rough night. Her dreams were vivid, colourful, full of impossibilities, full of promises, full of urgencies. When she woke, hot and sweaty, with her throat dry, she rose, changed and went looking for food. Knowing that the others would be following suit in the next hour she saw no point in returning to sleep, if indeed sleep could be gained.
Something moved through her mind slowly - for her brain moved sluggishly at that hour - something that tugged at her consciousness. She took her breakfast with her out the door into the half light of the morning, eating it slowly as she walked to the intersection and turning to the left, slowly climbing the hill to the crest of the island. She still did not know why she was going there, or what she would find when she arrived, she was answering some unspoken call, she was following some unmarked path. She was going in a direction that no one in her position had ever gone.
Now standing at the summit she took in her surroundings, turning slowly in a full circle and stopping at the eastern horizon, waiting for the first touch of the sun which was hanging just out of sight. The land sitting to the east was dark, a stark contrast against the warm glow that emanated from the celestial body, hiding, waiting for its entrance.
Against the cool breeze of the morning she pulled in her coat, folding her arms against her body trying to keep in what warmth she had. There she stood, a statue, ready to witness the dawn in all its glory.
There it was, bursting forth in heat and light, her face warming under its incandescence. She closed her eyes, drinking in the life the day was offering her. She would have stayed there, rooted to the spot, for many hours had a voice intruded her worship, brought her back to reality.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
She spun, turned to face the originator of the question to see Sammy, sitting crossed legged, enjoying the breaking of the day just as she had been. He had been still and silent earlier and she hadn’t noticed his presence. 
“Yes, it is,” she agreed.
Sammy smiled a wicked knowing smile. “It’s as if this moment was made just for us.”
She was shocked but she hid it well. To say such things was to invite disaster. One thing she had discovered right from the very beginning was that these people cared nothing for such things. They said what was on their minds, on their hearts. Such things were said before in secret but only as questions that had no answer. As thoughts that had no conclusions. This man spoke them with a different perspective. He spoke them as someone who already knew where they led. Like someone who had been already there.
There was no one there on the top of the hill other than herself and Sammy; still she spoke in a whisper, as if passing a secret, but that’s not what she was doing. She was delivering a warning. “You shouldn’t say things like that. People have been offended for less.”
Sammy shrugged. He seemed not to care. He had the air of someone who was on the verge of saying something really important but still not sure what it was.
“What are you doing up here at this hour?” she asked, changing the subject.
He closed his eyes, allowing the light and warmth of the morning sun to soak into him. “Reconnecting,” he said finally.
She didn’t understand. Reconnecting to what? The lines of her face indicating quite clearly the state of her mind in this matter. 
“I’m glad you’re here actually,” he continued. “I wanted to have a talk with you before we set sail. I had a question for you.”
“You are asking me a question?” she asked him. “You didn’t really answer mine.”
Sammy smiled, patting the ground next to him, indicating she should sit. “You’re right. I didn’t answer it, did I?”
She sat, now intrigued. He had secrets. She didn’t answer so he pressed on.
“Remember when I was in the watch house? Remember when you came in to help Jim? I saw your necklace. The flame shaped design. Then I heard Daniel say he wants to have ‘her flame’. He means your necklace, doesn’t he?”
Now she shook her head. If she wanted truth from him then she should likewise be truthful. “No. He meant my daughters necklace. It’s just like mine.”
“Why does he want it?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t had an opportunity to ask him, but I will.”
“All right, then what does the flame mean? It has to be something important otherwise why would you hide it?”
“It’s an idea,” she told him, her eyes gazing off toward the land, where even now the sun rose over, “…or even the start of an idea.”
“What idea?”
“All our lives we are taught that there is nothing new to know, that this is all there is, this world. We are born, we work to make our world better and then we die. In our dying we add to the elements of this world but we are gone. There is no belief. There is nothing beyond what we know. Do you understand?”
He nodded. “You have no hope.”
“That’s a strange thing to say.”
“What hope have you got if your life has no point, no future. You say there is nothing more than what we see here – well, I tell you, you have no hope.”
“But we do. That is what the Flame is all about. We want there to be something. We are looking for it. We have been for a very long time.”
An image came to her mind, something she had not thought of, something that would help his understand. “Have you ever played a game as a child where someone was hiding in the dark and you had to find them. How hard it was. You stumbled about, knocking your knees, stubbing your toes.”
Sammy smiled and nodded. “What you wanted was so close, so close you could feel it. You reach out to grab it, quickly in case it moved beyond your grasp, only to find it had and it was gone. Your Flame is the light, isn’t it? The light that will show up everything you have been looking for.”
She looked exasperated at the revelation. It was so true. “We don’t know what we’ve been looking for. We don’t even have a clue. If we don’t know what we are looking for then how can we find it? The Flame is an idea, the idea that if things are lit up like the day, when we see all the things around us that have been hidden, then we can find what we need.”
Perhaps she had gone too far. Now she sounded like a fanatic. Struggling to regain her composure, she tried to explain in less ethereal terms. “Please don’t think I’ve lost my mind. It is just an idea. We talk together about our ideas and we try and make sense of our world through them.”
“It’s a philosophy, I get it.” 
“Some of us think there is more to it than that.”
He tilted his head slightly as he regarded her. “What do you think?”
She sighed. He was digging into the place where her belief lay hidden. Soon he would have it exposed, soon he would see into her secret hopes and fears. “I think there is more to all this than I have been told,” she explained finally, “…I think there is more going on around us than I could ever hope to know or understand. I think there are things around me that I cannot see - no matter how hard I try to see them.”
He was nodding wordlessly as she told him, a knowing smile growing on his face with every utterance.  “I think you know more about this than you are telling me.” She accused him.
Instead of divulging the wisdom of the ages, Sammy warned her: “What I really wonder is if you have any idea what you’re getting yourselves into. You think there’s trouble when you even suggest a few new ideas to people - wait until they hear the real truth. Are you prepared for that?”
“I want to know. How do I find what I’m looking for?”
That was it. She had asked her question; the one question that she had been afraid to ask all her life. In the past she had been content to listen to the thoughts of others, knowing that they never led anywhere. She had never asked someone who seemed to really know.
Sammy sat back on his arms, his face now deadly serious. It was almost as if he had reached the crux, the turning point, the purpose of his journey. Everything that had led to this point and everything that would come after pivoted on this one moment and what was said. He did not speak right away. He seemed to be carefully considering his answer.
“I have always found that when I am looking for something,” he began, speaking slowly, “…when I really want something, when that thing consumes my thoughts, my desires – it finds me. It’s almost like it’s coming halfway to meet me. That’s what I think will happen with you: What you are looking for is looking for you.”
He didn’t have an opportunity to continue, to elaborate. Somewhere below, where the houses are place in an orderly row, they heard a shout. A name was called, then another.
Sammy stopped her before she stood; placing a hand on her arm to hold her down. His eyes were urgent. There was something else he needed to say and he had run out of time to say it. “You have a friend…” Then he spoke to himself under his breath: “What was his name?”
He turned his head to try and recall but no name came forth. Finally he shook his head and continued. “He’s in danger. Avolio is going after him - something about his wife. That man is with the ‘Flame’ too, he’s your leader.”
From the beginning the leader of The Flame was kept secret, to protect them and what they held, but now the enemy knew who it was. So Spelg was the one.
Avolio had been benevolent of late but it seemed that was soon to change. She had to warn Spelg as soon as possible when they docked. She stood and started back down the hill leaving Sammy to struggle to his feet and follow.
They were being hailed; drawn down the hill towards the inn. Out beyond the port a ship was due to sail and both Amelia and Sammy had to be on it.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Arriving a short time later, the lieutenant impatiently greeted the latecomers. The others were waiting also, their packs already over their shoulders. The tall, dark skinned man who they called ‘Sammy’ walked past him seemingly unaffected by the haste that the morning commanded. With both hands clasped behind his back he sauntered toward the doorway to the inn they had called home for the past week. The doctor who had preceded him was more apologetic but received most of the lieutenant’s ire.
“I wasn’t sure either of you would be joining us today,” he growled.
“I’m terribly sorry,” she stuttered, “I’d lost track of the time. I’ll just collect my things. I’ll not hold you up much longer.”
She held true to her word, returning with her bag over her shoulder, pushing Sammy out onto the street. The party now complete, the lieutenant led them down to the docks to where a longboat was waiting.
After some final discussions with The First Mate, who was supervising the loading of supplies, Vincent directed them to the boat that would take them out to the vessel that had been assigned to them. Leaving their bags at the dock, the party were quickly aboard, sitting amongst the crates and barrels which had been loaded earlier. Slowly the boat made its way out into the harbour, propelled by the sailors at the oars, gaining speed once they had cleared the docks.
The sea was still that morning but there was a steady wind coming from the south-east promising to speed them on their way. The longboat glided effortlessly through the gap between the islands. Beyond the imaginary line between the two small pieces of land lay the open water, deeper than in the port, deep enough for the larger ships which lay anchored off to the south.
Huge black vessels loomed over them, the retinue of the ambassador from the north, dark and quiet. They seemed less than escorts, more threatening and more dangerous. The lieutenant’s bad feeling that gnawed in the pit of his stomach grew worse, exacerbated by the close up view of these juggernauts.
Beyond the flotilla of black ships sat those of the Company, anchored further out, sitting quietly and waiting for their assignments. Some had left already and some were in the process of leaving, but most were in a state somewhere in between.
Their ship, the ‘Seaspray’, was almost at the outer edge of the mooring. It was a hive of activity, the calls and yells from the officers and crew could be heard from the waterline as the longboat pulled up alongside.
Vincent was the first to climb the rope ladders that were slung over the side. The others followed, slower and less able. Daniel’s stretcher was hauled up the side using the same apparatus the crew used to raise and lower supplies. He was safely brought up to the deck, and the Lieutenant secured a cabin for the doctor and her patient.
It was another hour before the anchor was raised and the sails set. During that time the remaining longboats arrived with the last of the supplies and the belongings of the passengers. The Captain inspected his ship one last time then ordered his ship on her way.

***

The sails billowed loudly above, picked up by the wind, pushing them toward the port itself. Before they ran aground the vessel turned gracefully to the north-west, passing the island, the Second Light off the starboard side. Keeping at that heading for a good hour the land began to drop away to the horizon, the only hint of its presence was a haze that sat on the line between sea and sky.
It was difficult to tell when they changed heading; perhaps it happened gradually, with a slow and graceful sweep, turning further north each minute. Without any cloud or discernable land there was no clear indication, only the subtle direction of the wind was available to the novice seafarer. The captain kept careful watch of the heading and their position. Inland, no one had heard or seen a compass, here it was more essential than any other tool. Second to the compass was the eye glass, now being used to gauge the position of the ship in relation to the land off the starboard side. With a healthy wind at their backs and a beautiful cloudless day, the Spray made steady progress up the west coast, keeping a parallel course with the land just visible to the east.
By midmorning, they had travelled a sizable distance up the coast, slowed now by a change in the strength and direction of the wind. Eight bells rang, men left and men took up duties and the life of the ship continued. They galley had opened for lunch for the crew at the change of watch and the newcomers joined them, surprised in the quality of the fare. This was a Company ship, and it looked after its own people well.
As this phase of their journey would last only half a day there was no need for cabins, so the party spent a good deal of time on the deck, enjoying the sunshine and the day, enjoying the freedom that the ocean gave.

***

One of their company did not join the throng in the galley, the judge Tobias sat alone at the bow of the ship, his eyes closed, seemingly unaware of all around him. After eating his fill of lunch, Lewis went back onto the deck before all the others to take some fresh air and walk of his full belly and he noticed the judge sitting there, facing the sea ahead. 
So many times the group had gone up against this man. It was likely that all of their problems to date had come from him, but Lewis was convinced that the original instigator had been the old man Delvore. He believed it had been the rich landlord who had made the judge believe the worst of the four. If he could be made to see differently perhaps things would work out better for them all.
He found himself walking awkwardly over to the bow where the judge sat as the ship was rolling gently up and down with ocean it rode upon. Lewis’s contribution of late had been minimal. He had caused more concern than he had relieved. Now there was something before him that he could change, something he could do. He had to try.
“Hey.”
The judge sat for almost a minute, his eyes still closed, and then finally he registered Lewis’s presence.
“What is it?” Tobias spoke in an irritated tone, as if he was interrupted from something important.
“Nothing,” the young man began, “I just… wanted to… talk.”
“Talk?” the judge said disdainfully, “I have nothing to say to you.”
Lewis looked at him hesitantly. He was a tough nut to crack. “That’s okay. How ‘bout I do the talking?”
Lewis did not wait for permission to sit, he just did, and the judge looked at him contemptuously. The young man would not be put off so easily. “Nice day,” he offered.
“I thought you had something important to say. This is just small talk.”
“Well, yeah, it is, but, I wanted to break the ice. We haven’t spoken before so…”
Tobias frowned. “Whatever you came to say, just say.”
“Okay… Sure. Well, when we first came here, we got on the bad side of Mr. Delvore. Well, I did. It was me that started it. Then I got into a fight with his son, then… You get the idea. Anyway you can see we didn’t get along. I was thinking you may have got the wrong idea about us, from Mr. Delvore I mean.”
“I can make up my own mind.”
“Sure…” Lewis agreed, “…but he could have given you the wrong idea from the start. It’s like Thom. He was a friend. We wouldn’t have killed him. Just because something bad happens then it’s our fault, you know. He needs someone to blame, and we’re different. It’s easy to blame the odd one out.”
The judge narrowed his eyes speculatively, asking: “Are you suggesting there was collusion?”
“All I know is that we didn’t do it. But we are out of the way, and the Delvore’s have been after that for some time. And there is another thing…”
“Oh?”
“I’m seeing Vicky… Victoria. They found out. So there’s more reason to get rid of us. See, there’s more to this. All I’m saying is you should look at what kind of people we are. We work together, we help each other, and we help other people too. Avolio would be dead today if Jim hadn’t stood over him, even though Jim doesn’t know how to fight with a sword. He did it anyway. I would have fought to the death with you – which I think wasn’t too far off…” He smiled cautiously. “Think about it.”  
The change in the judge was rapid, not instantaneous, but certainly fast. With an uncharacteristic smile, one he was definitely unpractised in, Tobias gave the young man hope.
“Perhaps I have been somewhat too zealous in my prosecution,” he conceded. “You are right - your people have shown the opposite attitude to your charges since I’ve been with you.”
He scratched his chin, his head turned to the side in thought. “I will have to think on this some more, but you have definitely given me something to think on.”
Lewis’s face beamed. Finally he had made a definite and positive contribution to their future, and all it took was a little persuasion. “Great!” the young man exclaimed.
Without warning Avolio appeared and gave Lewis such a look as to hurry him from the bow. Lewis did not stay long enough to hear what the judges said to each other, they huddled together and dropped deep into conversation. Still, Tobias had given him hope and that was enough for now. He decided to wait for another time to announce his success, at least until he was sure the judge was going to join them. Yes, that would be a good time. He would tell them then.

***

The land now fell away to the east and so the ship altered its course, following the shore from several kilometres out. An hour earlier they had passed another ship, one of the Company’s, further out to sea, tacking its way south to the Interchange. Smaller ships were seen also, most of them small fishing vessels, moving to and from small villages along the coast. With every passing kilometre, and with the passing of time, they saw more activity, more life.
	There was still another hour before they were due to arrive at the next harbour and Jim saw Vincent standing at the port side, gazing out to the horizon through an eyeglass. Even without the help of the device Jim could see objects looming far out to sea, the objects that had caught the lieutenant’s attention.
	“What is it?” Jim asked him quietly.
	Vincent looked away from the eyeglass. “See for yourself,” he muttered handing the device over. As Jim brought the apparatus to his eye the officer stalked away angrily, leaving Jim to make his own conclusions.
	He scanned the line between sea and sky looking for the objects he sought. There they were, four of them, ships sailing south. Huge black ships the kind Jim had seen before. They were not making good headway but it was obvious where they were going. They were joining ten of their fellows at The Interchange. It was clear now what made the officer angry. 
With the sun moving execrably toward the west, the Spray now had completely turned so that the sun was it her back. Ahead lay the land, now getting closer, opening into an inlet and their destination. Off the starboard rail a finger of land stretched out to them with a small hill at the end. The captain ordered the sails to be trimmed and they slowed further, moving hesitantly toward the inlet until finally they stopped and weighed anchor behind the headland in a sheltered bay.
It would be several hours before the cargo was unloaded to the city. Smaller vessels were already making their way over to the Spray in order to take the crates and barrels over to the city. Preparations were made to disembark the passengers first, the two longboats used to take them and their belongings to the ship earlier were lowered over the side into the sparkling water below, one of them containing Daniel, still bedridden but improving.
Soon the two boats were off toward the inlet and with resolve the sailors bridged the distance to the heads and passed through. They skirted the northern headland, hills that were dotted with tiny houses some short distance inland. They turned northward again, rounding a promontory and headed straight up to the docks. Passing between the boats that sat still in the bay, they glided gently at last up to the waterfront. Some two hours after leaving the ship they disembarked the longboat, collected their bags from one of the other small boats and waited for further instructions.

***

Vincent’s impatience had carried on well into the afternoon. Once he had handed over these people to the city officer he was free to pursue what he believed was the more important task. The day was moving on and the party he was escorting was tired and they took some time to walk down to the square just inside the dockyards. A message was sent and once again another almost intolerable wait ensured. Calling the group over he told them what to expect.
Daniel, whilst still under guard, was in no condition to be in the jailhouse. He would be taken to The Surgeons College under the surety of Amelia and her husband. Emily would continue to assist the healer under the same conditions that had been grated earlier - leaving Jim, Sammy and Lewis to be escorted under guard to the jailhouse.
“You boys better get ready,” he warned the men. “The days where you can do what you please are over. You’ll be in the jailhouse ‘til they sort out what to do with you.”
“That’s not a problem,” Jim told him confidently, “we’ve been inside before.”
Vincent grunted. He was sure they were slightly overconfident.
A short time later the guard came to relieve him of his charges. The three men were taken away, unchained and compliant to their new lodgings. Avolio and Tobias had already departed, heading for the court houses as soon as they disembarked, leaving Genty and Byrne, the two women, Daniel on a stretcher, and Boyes. There was nothing left to attend to, so Avolio’s hired men picked up the stretcher and followed Amelia to the College.
Vincent gathered his pack and slung it over his shoulder. He had completed his official responsibility. Now he had a more important issue to resolve. Turning on his heel, he exited the square, through the gates into the western half of the city, and to the city guard house, overtaking the prisoners under escort a short time later.

***

Amelia had bullied her way into The College. The doorman was reluctant to admit her and Daniel but was persuaded when Nader had been mentioned. Once inside however, the surgeons in general were very interested in her patient, and in particular the treatment that had been used to cure his injury.
The Great Healer, Amelia’s sister, Kara, had heard that Amelia had arrived and sought her out. After a knock, Kara entered, surprising Amelia, causing her to spring to her feet. Amelia bowed her head in supplication. 
“Great Healer, you honour us by your presence,” she said, stiffly formal.
“Amelia,” the Physician chided, “…we grew up together. Let’s dispense with the formalities. How have you been?”
“I’ve been well, sister, and you?”
“I have my issues… but I struggle on.”
Smiling at her younger sibling, Kara directed her attention to the young woman who had stood moments after Amelia, looking at her from her feet to her head, regarding her height with interest.
“And who is this tall young lady?”
“Of course, sister, this is Emily. She has been helping me these past few weeks. Emily, this is the Great Healer, the leader of the College here.”
Amelia saw no need to fully explain the situation at hand. There would be a better time to do so, when there would be no distractions.
Emily bowed gracefully. “I’m pleased to meet you.”
She was drawn then to Daniel, who was lying patiently on the bed. “And your patient?” Kara asked.
“Yes, this is Daniel. You know of him - I’ve spoken of him several times in the past.”
The connection was quickly made. “Marianna’s Daniel?” Kara asked, slightly surprised.
As she could have predicted, Daniel winced at the name of her daughter. Kara was well aware of the history involved but was never one to shrink back from difficult topics should it be necessary to discuss them.
“What’s happened?”
Moving beyond the niceties, the two shifted into their professional personas. Moving to the bedside the two doctors began the impromptu consultation.
 “He had a penetrating injury to the chest on the right side, up here,” Amelia explained, opening his shirt and pointing to the wound, now stitched with harsh black thread.
“A weapon?”
“Knife,” Amelia confirmed, “…a relatively clean blade. When I first examined him, his breathing sounds were gone completely on the right side and he was in some trouble. It took us two full days to get him to Nader. By then he had tension in his chest. Nader corrected it immediately then recommended Reusche the Viller at the Interchange. Reusche inserted a tube into his lung and allowed the air to escape. It is an old treatment and rarely done, but successful. You can see where the tube went.”
The two peered at Daniels side. Another hole, starting to heal over, stitches as evident as the other wound.
“It was unlikely that the treatment would work,” the younger doctor continued, “…considering the length of time the lung was collapsed and the earlier tension, but we were all surprised and pleased by the improvement. I have been applying Zhilvrah for infection and I have seen no signs of that as yet.”
Kara nodded. “He looks as like the treatment has worked. Well done, well done.”
Now the medical issues were discussed, there was obviously something more going on than Amelia had mentioned. “Why are you both here?” Kara asked pointedly. “There’s something more, isn’t there?”
“We definitely need to talk about what’s happening. I’m just not sure where to begin.”
Kara shifted her eyes over to the young woman standing five steps away, watching and listening. Wordlessly the both of them communicated a need. Could the young woman that was present be trusted with the secrets? Amelia shook her head and put a comforting hand on Emily’s shoulder. 
“Would you mind leaving us dear?” Amelia asked the tall young woman. “You can use next door.” She motioned to the adjoining entrance. “Your belongings have been put there for you.”
“Of course,” the young woman agreed, going to the door and was gone, looking back as she closed the door behind her, her face registering the fact that she knew there were important things at hand. 
“We had better sit,” Amelia suggested after Emily had departed. “There is a lot to sift through.”
And so they sat at the other end of the room from where Daniel lay. He dropped off to sleep when the voices of the women had fallen to a series of whispers.
“I don’t understand exactly what is happening, but I’ll try and tell you what I know,” Amelia began. “It starts with a group of people, Emily is one of them. They are different from us - you can see that right away; the way they dress, the way they talk. I am not entirely sure where they came from, but what is evident is that from the moment they arrived things have been totally upside-down.”
“What do you mean?”
“It is hard to explain. They are different. They see things differently. They know things. They are working to a plan I cannot even begin to fathom. There are other things going on too.”
“Such as?”
She looked worried now. “Daniel knows about us. He knows about Marianna. He knows about the Flame!”
Kara leaned forward, concerned about the news. “How does he know?”
“He said something to me. He said: ‘She told me. She wants me to have it: Her Flame’.”
“You think he’s referring to Marianna and her necklace.”
The younger woman nodded tensely. “Yes.”
She reached into a pocket in her dress and pulled out a red metal object strung through a leather throng.
Kara was taken aback by the arrival of the charm. “You have it with you?”
“That is why I think he means this Flame.”
Kara immediately began to run scenarios through her mind, trying to come to some explanation. “She must have talked with him before. He thought he was dying and wanted it for comfort.”
“Then how did he know I had it with me?” Amelia asked, perplexed. “And why bring it up now? It’s been years. Why now?”
The older woman shrugged. The question was beyond either of them to fathom. “There is something else too, isn’t there?” Kara asked, reading her sisters expression expertly.
Amelia nodded. If her daughter had spoken out of turn, broken trust, then she too was guilty. “They know too - these new people.”
Kara gasped, “How?”
“Like I said, they know things. One of them, Sammy is his name, saw my Flame and afterwards put it all together.”
The Great Healer was still in a state of shock, and she could see the inevitability of the situation. “It is all going to fall apart,” she proclaimed with a voice that pronounced disaster.
“No, wait!” Amelia stopped her, grasping her arm urgently. “It is not like that. He doesn’t want to trap us. He’s not working with the law. No, he has a totally different agenda.” Her eyes spoke of hope. “I think he is going to help us.”
Kara still held her view, but she was patient enough to let her sister finish.
“I told him about us, and then he told me something of what he knew - only a few things but I get the feeling that there is more that this man knows than anything we’ve thought of in the last three hundred years. I think he’s got what we have been looking for all this time.”
Kara’s voice betrayed her feelings. Her voice shook as did her hands when she probed for any sign of Sammy’s intent. “How do you know he is genuine?”
“Because he told me something else - something that could help us with more immediate matters: Avolio is back. He came with us from Watchers with the judge Tobias.”
The sound of the first judge’s name caused Kara to frown with displeasure.
“He’s going after Spelg,” Amelia told the Great Healer with dread. “He knows Spelg is one of us. More than that, he knows Spelg is the Master. He is the Master, isn’t he?”
A greater, deeper concern had arisen, and the import of the revelation showed on the older doctor’s face. “I have to warn him.”
Her attempt to stand was thwarted by Amelia’s restraining arm.
“No,” Amelia told her sister firmly. “You can’t go anywhere near him. It’s too dangerous and it’ll only make matters worse. I’ll go.”
“And expose yourself too? I won’t allow it.”
“We don’t have a choice. The Master must be warned. My life is of little consequence to that of the Master and the Thoughts of the Ages.”
“Very well,” Kara said with a sigh and then her eyes grew hard with determination. “Then I will deal with Avolio.”
“Are you sure?”
“I know what I’m doing.”
Amelia was shaking her head at the idea. “He’s beyond reason,” she told her sister. “I’ve seen it in his eyes.”
“What makes you think I have any intention of trying to reason with him?”

***

The prison where they had been placed was similar to the others they had seen of recent months. The cells were small, square and featureless. This time however, instead of heavy metal doors, bars stood in their way. It was dark outside, they were taken straight there from the docks and shoved into where they were to be interned, and night had fallen sometime after. The only light they had was provided by lamps on the walls opposite, shining dimly in through the bars.
Jim still remained apprehensive. There remained too many ‘what-ifs’ for his liking. The freedoms he had experienced over the last few weeks had dissolved again. They were back behind bars and his future again looked bleak.
Despite what Sammy had said to him while they waited for the judge’s decision more than a week ago, he found it difficult to relax. Sammy was lying on his cot, asleep or so it seemed. He had some peace, derived from his so-called dream, but Jim had no such comfort. If he thought that someone, or something, was directing his steps, then Jim pessimistically believed that they were as asleep as his friend. Or they cared for them as one would a tool or instrument.
All around there were the sound of voices, other prisoners most likely; rough voices calling out into the semi darkness of the jail. Many would be silenced quickly, perhaps they had only days left to live - such was justice in this world. Jim expected mistreatment, but he experienced none and believed there was little of it in this place. There was no point. This was just a holding pen for the gallows or the chopping block.
Lewis had better hearing than Jim. He has been sitting on his cot ruminating for the previous hour about his hunger until he had been told to cease. Sounds that only he could here gave him hope that his pain would be soon relieved. “This could be dinner,” he said expectantly.
Sammy answered him without opening his eyes, his deep voice emanating from the dark corner where he was allegedly slumbering. “I don’t think it is.”
Off down the passage to which their cell connected, the sound of metal on metal, keys in a lock and the swinging of a gate, followed by heavy feet on stone was heard. Light could be seen, dancing wildly and growing stronger. The light stopped, so did the hand that held it, held by a guard. There were others with him. Short, powerful and armed - their faces were stern with purpose. Jim stood. He had initially no idea why they had come until one pushed through the line of red uniforms. The face he knew. With an abrupt motion a finger pointed to Jim, singling him out. 
Vincent spoke his pronouncement: “That one.”
 It would only take seconds for the door to be unlocked and opened, and then they would take him. Lewis had shrunk back, not wanting to be the one, hiding in the corner. Sammy sat up to watch, impassively, his eyes watery, blinking.
Jim turned to him with only seconds to ask for some hope. “That dream of yours, you didn’t see me in it, did you?”
Sammy could offer him nothing of what he wanted. His voice was soft but loud enough to be heard over the grinding of the hinges as the grate was shut behind them.
“I’m sorry.”

Strong hands where behind him, pushing him periodically down the passage. Jim was determined to drag his feet, to be as difficult as possible. He knew it was foolish but he knew he was doomed in the long run - if he was going down the he certainly was not going to make it easy for them.
The final push had him stumble into the guard room. Was it a torture room? There was no evidence that it was used for such a purpose. They were going to ask some questions, this was clear, a singular chair sat in the centre of the room, a chair for him. At least he will get to sit down.
The red guards stood around him, waiting for instructions. They came from one Jim had not met before. He was dressed as the others but there was a more official distinction in his uniform and manner. Pointing to the chair he gave Jim a command he expected to be obeyed.
“Sit.”
Staring down at the chair in front of him, the prisoner hesitated, and then gave a mischievous grin. There was only one chair in the room, where he was to sit obvious to all. “Here?” he asked, pointing.
His little attempt at humour was wasted. Rough hands grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him down onto the chair, facing his interrogator who stood impassively, arms folded, and his face stern.

***

Ryan cursed his employer quietly. The night was cold and he was uncomfortable in his position, hiding in a dark corner, the entrance to the judge Spelg’s residence visible across the street. From here he could easily observe the comings and goings from his target’s house in almost invisibility. Almost, because some on the street had seen him - he had been propositioned several times but he had no time for such distractions. 
Ryan had been enjoying a well earned holiday when Tobias came to visit. The spy had arrived at Mharum a week earlier and settled in for an extended period of self indulgence. The Pass he had been given months earlier gave him the finances he needed for these activities and he had a long list of excuses for incurring these expenses. All this was interrupted, for now he had to work. 
The streets had cleared just prior to the midnight bell and the patrol had been through hurrying on the stragglers. Ryan had vanished further into his hide and had been overlooked - now he was hoping that he would have something to report soon so that he could retire to his bed.
He yawned, stretching, his muscles aching from the immobility and cold, and almost missed her. A dark coat was wrapped around her, keeping out the chill air and her hood was pulled over. He could not see her face but he knew it was her. She made her way quietly along the dimly lit street, watching carefully for signs that she was being observed and when it seemed she was safe, knocked on Spelg’s door and was admitted quickly.
Ryan smiled, his nights work complete. He slipped out and around the corner, making his way casually toward his employer’s quarters. He would not be detained by the patrol - in his pocket, safely tucked away, lay his Pass. He could go anywhere in the city, wherever he pleased. Right now, he wanted to go to bed.

***

“What did the surgeon tell you?”
Jim looked bewildered. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”
Jim was waiting for the next step, and it came from the lieutenant standing to his left. “I think he needs his memory jogged.”
He was expecting this, and he came back quickly, looking directly at the captain. “It’s been done before and it got no-one anywhere. Also, if you do it too hard my memory might just fail all together, and that would be a shame.”
The captain’s eyes narrowed. Jim could see an immense amount of intelligence in those eyes and he hoped there might be a change of convincing this man of his worth.
Jim tilted his head a little in thought, announcing, “I am feeling a little faint from hunger. Perhaps that’s to blame for my lack of memory.”
Vincent moved his face in close, almost against Jim’s cheek. “You want us to feed you? Maybe we will beat it out of you.” The last few words caused a collection of spit to strike the side of Jim’s face, making him wipe it off with his right arm.
“I’m just saying we could help each other,” Jim offered evenly, ignoring the threat like it was nothing, “…but if that’s not good for you then maybe you should put me back in my cell - but if we can do a deal then maybe we could both come out on top.”
The captain pronounced his impression of the prisoner coldly. “You’re an opportunist.”
The captain’s eyes narrowed a second time, but there was a slight amused lift to the corner of his mouth. Jim knew he had him. Jim smiled disarmingly. “Things aren’t too good from where I’m sitting. I’m just trying to even things up a bit.”
The captain actually laughed, nodded to a guard to his right.
“What about my friends…”
Shaking his head, the captain authorised food for the others in the cell, then folded his arms over his chest and looked down at his captive, all business. “…about that surgeon?”
In between mouthfuls of pieces of bread and meat, Jim spoke of his arrival on The Interchange. “We were there overnight, and then in the morning I got up and had a poke around. Outside the harbour there were a lot of ships. These were different than the ones I’d seen the Company use - these were huge warships. Like I said, there were a lot of them, and I gather they would hold a lot of men. There they were, these men, out on a parade ground on the north side of the island, inside their compound.”
This was common knowledge, Jim was not telling them anything they did now already know, but it helped to put the story in context.
“I talked to Vincent, here…” Turning to the lieutenant, Jim changed his expression. “Frankly Vinnie,” he added, “I’m a little disappointed with you. We were getting on so well, and this is how you treat me. If you’d just asked I would have told you straight out. Never mind,” he sighed. “Where was I?”
He turned back to the captain, looking away from Vincent shocked expression, and frowned like he was concentrating. “That’s right… the good lieutenant here said they were ‘Villers’ and that there should only be one ship in the water. ‘One ship…’ I told him - or something like that, ‘…I counted ten!’”
 “I heard the surgeon that was coming to see Daniel – he’s in my party – was one of them, a Viller. So I asked him: ‘Why are there so many of you?’, and he says: ‘They’re for the Ambassador, they’re his retinue.’”
The captain looked a little disturbed. “Did he say anything else?”
“No. I’d hardly expect him to give up any state secrets.”
The final mouthful was chewed and swallowed. He felt better. The hunger had been abated. Jim dusted his hands then wiped his mouth. “Well, that’s all I’ve got,” he told them with some satisfaction. “Thanks for the supper. I think I’d like to go back to my cell now.”
“That’s it?” the captain growled, “…that was not worth a meal.”
Jim smiled. The captain had finally discovered he had been had. “I can’t help that,” Jim told him pleasantly. “You should have got the information first - then fed me.”
“Would you have told us?”
Jim snorted. “I doubt it.”
He was not allowed to leave immediately. The captain and his lieutenant spoke at length to each other only a few steps away. Jim should have been able to hear them clearly had they not been speaking to each other in neither English nor the local tongue. It took only moments for Jim to recognise the language that they conversed in - unfortunately it was not one that Jim was able to speak, although he could pick out some familiar words from time to time. There was one word however, that brought him to attention, which put the entire situation into perspective for him. The captain spoke the word clearly and at its utterance the lieutenant’s face registered deep concern. 
“Conquistador.”
They spoke for several minutes more and when they had concluded their discussion turned toward him, and now it seemed they were unsure of where to go next. Jim smiled - he knew enough of the situation to know these men were in some trouble. Perhaps his usefulness could continue. Turning his head to the side he regarded the two men, and then with all the boldness he could summon, asked them: 
“Español?”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Jim had been gone some two hours from the cell they shared. In that time he had been away food had arrived, good food. Hunger had a way of making even the simplest of meals into a banquet, and the meat and bread seemed like it was fit for a king.
The sound of feet coming down the passage and the increase of light heralded the return of their absent friend who stumbled awkwardly into the cell after the grate was unlocked and opened. Once he was inside the door was shut with a resounding clang that echoed through the entire building. Jim sat on the cot, rubbing his temples.
Sammy looked him over and decided he was largely intact, then passed him a bowl. “I’ve saved you some supper. Here.”
Jim held out a declining hand. “Ah, no thanks,” he muttered. “I’ve already eaten.”
“Are you to blame for this?” Sammy held out a piece of bread.
“They wanted something. I traded information for dinner.”
Lewis was sitting on his cot, his belly satisfied. “You’ve got my vote.”
“Thanks mate.” Jim smiled at the young man. “Well,” he said, laying back on his bed and staring upwards at the roof, “…that was fun.”
“What’s happening?” Sammy enquired.
Jim turned his head and craned it to attempt to look through the bars into the corridor beyond. Sammy lifted his eyebrows speculatively. Perhaps his friend was becoming paranoid. When Jim spoke again, he did not give information - he simply indicated a way they could talk without being understood by anyone who might be listening out in the passage: “English.”
Then he added in their native tongue: “Things could get very interesting around here very soon.”
“Interesting?”
“These guys think we’re about to be invaded. I get the feeling they may be right.” He sat upright and looked at his big friend, the worry showing on his face. “You remember those big ships at the island? You remember the ones moored out past the port? Well, they’re going to be a big problem. Apparently they aren’t supposed to be there – at least not in those numbers. And we passed another four on the way down – that’s fourteen altogether. On the north end of the island there’s a training ground of sorts and there’s soldiers there. Presumably they came from the ships. They’re training hard too. They’re training hard like they’re about to attack something – or someone. Our ‘friends’ here think it’s going to be them.”
Lewis said what they were all thinking: “And now we’re right in the middle of it.”
“I’m more worried about Emily,” Jim told them. “She’s out there unprotected. Daniel is flat on his back. No,” added – shaking his head, “they’re in real trouble – and we’d better think of something.”
Sammy looked squarely into Jim’s face which was creased with concern - but also there was confusion. Jim turned his head and closed one eye, a sure sign his was thinking something through.
“There’s more to this, isn’t there?” Sammy asked him. “Something’s not quite right.”
“Yeah, I don’t know,” Jim muttered, almost to himself. “There are fourteen ships in the harbour. How many men could each of them hold? Let’s say a hundred. That’s fourteen-hundred men. Not enough for an invasion, but too much for an escort. You don’t send an army to defend an ambassador unless you’re expecting trouble.”
Jim shook his head, his teeth ground together and his eyes screwed shut. “Damn it!” he growled. “I hate being in here. There’s way too much happening that I can’t see. We really need to get out of here.”
Opening his eyes, Jim gazed at the solitary window, the stars barely visible through the small hole. He started there for almost a minute, his face changing constantly as thoughts moved through his mind. Sammy waited for him to speak again – or for something to come to him that would help them in their predicament. 
In the end, when Jim said nothing else, Sammy could only offer what hope he had. “We can’t do anything but wait. We can’t change what is going on out there. Daniel and Emily will have to do what they can and we won’t be able to help them except to warn them. 
“Also, we’ve all felt the guiding power that’s working around us,” he continued. “It is still at work, we just need to trust it.”
“Guiding power?” Jim echoed sarcastically.
“Whatever you want to call it. Remember you said you feel like ‘a puppet and someone is pulling the strings’?” Sammy reminded him. “That’s the guiding power.
“What about the book?” Sammy asked, “I dream – and Emily has the identical dream too – that I give this book to the king, and here we are waiting to see the king. That’s the guiding power. You know what I’m talking about - you’ve seen, and felt, the same things as I have, you’ve seen them come true.”
Jim had lost the sceptical tone in his voice, but he was still was some distance away from believing to the extent that Sammy did. “So, what you’re saying is: this invasion, or whatever it is, won’t happen until after you hand the book over to his majesty. Then it all goes pear shaped. Anything else about the dream you could tell us?”
This was something he hadn’t considered. All this time he had concentrated only on what he was doing: the act of passing the book, and the other person standing directly before him – and not other details that he had seen. They had been pushed to the back, filed away until he needed them, and he needed them now, more than ever.
Silently wishing Emily were with him to fill in the blanks, he closed his eyes and tried to remember, tried to open his eyes within the dream. He saw nothing but his hand stretched out, the black book sitting in the palm and another hand taking it. Then his eyes looked up to the face of the receiver. The face was oddly familiar but also one he had never seen before. He was wearing a fine purple jacket, and he was smiling.
The scene remained locked in haze. He knew that there were people about, he could see their faces obscured by the dream-induced fog, but what he could see of them told him of their identity – at least he assumed their identity.
He could see Emily, he was sure another of them was Lewis. There were more shapes, just outside of the circle of faces that he could just make out. These were more indistinct. One of them he was confident was Jim – and perhaps there was Boyes and Amelia next to his old friend. He could not be completely sure, but his hope was working to fill in the gaps.
 He shook his head to try and clear the vision but it persisted regardless. Now he was shaking his head in frustration.
“I think it’ll be alright,” told them then, opening his eyes again. “I can see Emily and you, Lewis. I’m sure you were there, Jim. There’s no guards – at least none that were obvious. It’s difficult to say…” He offered a reassuring smile. “No,” said decisively against so much uncertainly, “we’ll get through this. It will all work out.”
Jim face finally relaxed and he nodded slowly. “Alright, Fine,” he said, but his eyes told Sammy that he had not been fully convinced. “I still think we’d better let Emily know what’s going on, and soon.”
“How are you going to do that?”
“We’ll have to wait and see. Boyes will hopefully come and see us – if he can get in here. I don’t suspect he has much authority in this place.” Jim’s face had a pained expression. “I think I may have played our only card a little too early.”
They were being tested, it was clear. Their faith and resolve were being tested. He knew what needed to happen and there was obstacles in his path, it was true, but experience had shown him things will transpire if they were meant to. Sammy smiled again, the best reassuring smile he could muster. 
Jim answered the smile. He seemed to know why he was receiving it but was determined to keep them grounded in the present. “We’re still in trouble,” he told them both clearly. “We’re still locked in here and we’re short of help.”
“Maybe not.” Lewis looked sheepish, looking up as if he knew something that he had been keeping from them. “Maybe we’re not completely on our own,” he explained. “Maybe there’s a chance the charges will be dropped.”
“I don’t think there’s much chance at that,” Jim disagreed, “…unless you know something we don’t.”
Sammy was staring at the young man, the beginnings of a disturbed expression appearing on his face. “Why do you think there is a chance of that?”
“I, eh, talked to Tobias,” Lewis stammered. “We talked on the ship on the way up here. I tried to make him see us differently, see us as good people. I think I turned him around a little.”
From the moment Sammy had been near the judge his skin had crawled. Even now, at the sound of his name, shivers ran the length of his spine. Tobias had proved time and again he was not on their side and that he could not be trusted. No one had spoken to the man for this reason, at least up to this point. 
What was that boy thinking?
Jim leant forward, intently, his voice tense. “What did he say?” He was aware, as Sammy was that Lewis had played a dangerous game. Jim clearly needed to gauge the possible damage.
“He said he thinks he may have gone too hard against us and he realises we’re not as bad as he first thought. He’s going to think about it some more.”
Sammy could barely hide the anger in his voice. He did not like the judge but his own reaction puzzled him, regardless Sammy left no doubt what he thought of this revelation. “You should talk to us first before you do something like that.”
Jim’s voice was more restrained, more reasonable and Sammy was forced to back down. “Easy,” Jim cautioned, placing a restraining hand on the big man’s arm. “I don’t think there was any harm done. He may have even helped a little, who knows?”
Jim lay back on his cot and stretched. “Let’s just take it easy. We’re stuck here together. When Boyes gets here, if he can, then we’ll work out what to do next. Until then, we wait.”

***

A full nights drinking had taken its toll. The road lurched under his feet, the familiar sights of his neighbourhood faded in and out of obscurity as he stumbled over cobblestones and rubbish. The bottle in his hand was empty and had been so for that past hour. He now held it for comfort - it reminded him of where he had been.
His house was up ahead, the lights were on in the upper floor telling him she was home. He knew she had been out earlier, Tobia’s rat had told him so. She had been out, she had been with him.
Three more steps and he was at the door, fumbling at the lock. Where was his key? In one of his pockets…? No. Where did he leave it?
Hammering on the door he demanded entry, only to receive cold silence. Couldn’t she hear him? Yelling louder, enough to wake up the entire street, he sought to alert her to his presence.
“Hey! Hey! Hey woman! It’s your husband!”
Slurring, spitting, hammering, he emphasised the final word with as much self-loathing as his drink addled brain could manage.
From behind the door she answered him. “Quiet Avolio,” she demanded in a forced whisper. “You’re waking the whole neighbourhood.” She didn’t say much, but her voice dripped with disdain.
He did not quiet down - he could not because it was beyond him. “Let me in, wife. This is my house. Open the door.”
“You’ve been drinking,” she said with contempt, “…I can smell it through the door. Go sleep it off.”
“So what if I have,” he slurred. “I have been drinking. I’ve been drinking a lot. Now, you let me into my house woman. You let me in.”
“No. I won’t,” she declined forcefully, “Not tonight. Come back tomorrow.”
Her refusal only served to inflame his anger further. It grew, unfettered by the alcohol flowing through his veins. His jealousy found a voice at last.
“I know where you go at night,” he accused her, “…I know who you go to. Everyone knows. Don’t you think for a moment that you can get away with it, don’t you think for a moment. You are my wife. You are mine. I won’t let that…”
He started to cough, bile caught in his throat. He could not get it out and then half of his night’s entertainment was deposited on the doorstep. 
Her voice softened, became almost piteous, but was no less unshakable than before. Somewhere deep inside his mind he knew she loved him - the words she spoke were full of rebuke but behind them were the deeper feelings. He was not listening to that inner voice. He was only listening to the baser impulses brought to the surface by the wine.
“Please. Just go,” she was almost pleading, “…you’re making things far worse for yourself. This is not the time to talk about anything. Come back tomorrow.”
Rolling back from his hands and knees, rolling away from the vomit which pooled to his left, Avolio wiped his mouth then crawled back over to the door. From deep within him a deep sorrow rose. Things were not always this way. There was a time when his days were filled with joy. Those days were gone, but he longed for them just the same.
He sobbed quietly against the door, muttering to himself, uncaring if she heard him, uncaring if she was still there listening. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please.”
She was still there, still listening, and she answered: “There is nothing left of us, Avolio. Why have you been hanging on? You know I still love you but that is not enough anymore. You’ve gone from me. You went long ago. Please, just let me go.”
His tears started to fall, splashing on the doorstep, running down onto the road. He was in a place that was familiar but he was lost just the same. In between his aching gasps he offered his final supplication.
“No. Please. Don’t leave me. I love you.” 
She spoke for the last time then extinguished the light; her voice’s echo’s remaining long after the windows went dark.
“Go sleep it off, Avolio. Come back tomorrow when you are sober and cleaned up.”
***

Four weeks had passed since she had fallen from the roof and fractured her arm. The splint remained, put there by Amelia, the wooden contraption strapped hard against her flesh. It itched. It was hot. Victoria could hardly stand it. With every visit from Catherine, Amelia’s cousin, the young woman would plead and then demand the splint be removed. She could have done it herself, but she was far too smart to remove it before its time.
The fourth week came and so Victoria moved toward the plan she had been hatching for the long weeks of her detention. Her brother was starting to trust her, she gave him no reason to think she would not behave herself this time, and she would use this against him later. 
Catherine came that morning to check the state of Victoria’s arm and found her in her room, sitting by the window, the sun streaming in and warming her from the morning chill. They spoke of minor things for a time and then the healer took hold of the splint and checked the bindings. Victoria’s eyes took on a steely look of determination when she made her request, her voice in a whisper in case there were eavesdroppers.
“Just loosen it so that I can remove it then put it back on easily,” she instructed the healer.
“What?” Catherine whispered back. “If I do that it won’t do its job properly.”
“Have the bones healed?”
“Well, yes,” the healer conceded, “…but they really need more time. The splint has not been on for long enough…”
Victoria gave her a look that indicated she had made up her mind. “If the bones have healed then I don’t need it,” she declared quietly.
“The splint needs to stay on for two more weeks to ensure the bones properly join.”
“It will stay on, but probably for longer than two weeks. I just want it loosened.”
“Whatever for…?” Catherine looked at her perplexedly.
Victoria shook her head. “It’s best I don’t tell you, that way you won’t have to lie if asked. If Carl does ask, tell him it will have to stay on for a time yet – which is the truth.”
Amelia’s cousin narrowed her eyes. “You’re up to something.”
“Oh yes, I am.” Victoria gave her a shifty smile.
The arm was still sore. It had not fully healed, but it was enough. Provided she was not planning to use the arm for anything strenuous then all would be well. The two women embraced at their parting, leaving the captive of the house to finalise her machinations.

Night had fallen many, many hours prior and the house was filled with darkness. Only Carl’s study, on the ground floor to the rear, showed signs of life. The halls were cold and silent, the occupants of the building asleep, all but two. Carl was down stairs, no doubt completing his day’s work, head down into documents and ledgers. Upstairs his sister crept like a cat down the hall to the stairs. She had been practicing for this night, she had been moving about the house in the dark, learning to tread softly and silently where there were no creaky boards. When discovered she would blame insomnia, in reality she was in training.
Her splint was off, her arm was free, and this was part of the deception. While she was an invalid she was unlikely to leave the estate and unlikely to start trouble. Her brother had no inkling that her arm had effectively healed, had no idea that she was leaving that night, had no idea she that it was trouble she was starting.
There were men patrolling the house and estate and she knew precisely where they were… and when and where they would move to - she had been watching them. Now she slipped easily between them, making for the long, tall, dense hedge which constituted the western wall. Squeezing under a section she had carefully prepared over the last week, Victoria was out and into freedom. She was now only a short distance from the village.
The town was now an unknown quantity. The four week absence had meant she had missed the changes that had been wrought on the little village by her brother. Normally there would still be people about - there would still be life here. Now the town was as silent as the estate. The only people out and about were her brother’s men, strutting around the deserted town as if they owned it. Victoria moved carefully and quietly through those streets, moving toward her eventual goal. There it was, a house on the north side of the village, overlooking the square from the side of a hill. The house was as dark as the others, its curtains drawn and all signs of life extinguished. She skirted the building, moved around to the back window and waited for any sign of discovery.
It took several whispered calls through the window before Julia’s confused face poked through the curtains holding a candle in her hand, looking out into the darkness behind her house.
“It’s me. Victoria. Put out that light.”
“Victoria?”
“I just said that,” she hissed. “Help me in.”
After several difficult moments Victoria stood in the darkened bedroom. Her friend spoke in whispers. In the other rooms of the house her family slept.
“What are you doing here? Wait… where have you been? I haven’t heard anything from you in weeks.”
“Carl keeps me at the estate,” Victoria explained. “I suppose you would call me a guest. I couldn’t get out much anyway. I broke my arm four weeks ago.”
“Don’t mention his name in this house. In fact, don’t say it anywhere in the village. Your father was not all together liked, but he was respected. Your brother…”
“What exactly has my brother done?”
“Where to start?” Julia groaned. “What about the curfew? Nobody out after dark. The whole town is closed down. The only ones walking around are his patrols. Then there is the trade. He’s taken complete control over it all - everything. You can’t do anything now without his say so. He made an example of the first few to stand up to him and now everyone’s afraid to put a step wrong. He’s brought some more help from the other side of the lake, more men for his guard, for his patrols.”
Victoria looked downwards and silently swore, the name of the judge who persuaded her father to transfer her rights featured prominently. “I knew it was getting out of hand but I had no idea it was this bad.”
“My father says the only thing holding him back is the two other estates. If he gets his hands on those, then he will be in complete control. Father says the people will have to stand up to him then. Right now things are bad, but they are liveable. If he goes for everything then there’ll be a revolt.”
Victoria looked grimly at her remaining friend. “Maybe that needs to happen. Maybe it’s the only way. We have to knock him off this throne he has built for himself.”
“Lord Delvore won’t like that kind of talk.” Julia was looking nervous.
“He’s no lord” Victoria told her, “…he’s a little man with a big toy and no intention of sharing.”
“What are you planning?”
“I don’t quite know yet, but I’ll need you to talk with some people for me. Get them together. I have a few ideas that could put a halt to all this nonsense.”
“Who?”
Victoria listed them all, eight in total. People she knew - young people.
“Why them? They’ve never been your friends.”
“This has gone beyond that now,” Victoria told her friend. “These people have what it takes to get the job done. I’d best be getting back before I am missed. Try and get them together tomorrow night. MacKenzie’s house, tomorrow night, right?”
“I’ll do what I can.”
“I know you will.”
She moved to the window but stopped at the sill and turned to her friend. “All our lives we’ve been in the background, missing out while others – our brothers mostly – received all the best things in life. Now it’s our chance to make something of ourselves, to get something for ourselves. I’m going to take that chance. Are you with me?”
Julia nodded, not with determination, but with agreement nonetheless. With that unspoken declaration, Victoria’s plan had been hatched. She lifted a leg onto the sill in order to climb out of the window.
“Help me out…”

Exiting the window was easier then entering it. Victoria was once again out in the cool night air, making her way around the outskirts of the town, staying in the darkness. The patrols were still walking the village but they were easy to see and therefore avoiding them presented no difficulty. She reached the west gate and slipped quietly through, turning southwards when the road started its incline to the estate. The hedge loomed over her left shoulder, sweeping gently around to the east, forming the southern border. She had chosen this area for her return as it offered better cover whilst she would struggle through the hedge.
Halfway through the living wall she became aware of voices rapidly approaching. She was rightly worried they had heard her fighting through the bush and were rushing to investigate. They were steps away and she froze, hoping her immobility would be enough to hide her presence.
Standing now directly where she was due to emerge, they stopped to confer and her fears were realised. They had heard the noises of her entry and they were looking for the source of the sounds. Fearing the light of their torches would reflect from her eyes she buried her face in her arms and held her breath. She waited for the longest time.
Without looking up she guessed they had split up, some moving one direction and some of them the other, walking along the border, listening for any sign of the intruder. She stayed as still as possible, her head down and breathing quietly, hoping she would remain unnoticed. Finally there was a call to her left and footfalls suggested they had abandoned their investigation.
It was an unplanned delay, she was hoping to back in her room sooner than this. Now she was grovelling in the dirt under a hedge and was likely to be rather dirty when she returned to the house. The chance of her hiding her nocturnal activities was growing slimmer as time moved on.
The voices of the patrol faded and she chanced a look through the branches of her hide. Off to the left the torches bobbed up the hill to the house, moving like fireflies, swarming together in a chaotic dance. She squeezed her way through to the other side, staying on the ground for a short time, listening for any guards that remained and who waited without light. Time passed and she remained unmolested. 
She stood and dusted herself off with dirt and leaf material falling to the ground. Some time was needed hiding the evidence of her entry and then she was on her way through a grove of small trees toward the gardener’s cottage. Her back ached from the stooping posture she was forced to employ in order for her to avoid detection. Finally, panting from the exertion and with the thrill of adventure, her breath leaving her lips in small wisps of steam, she reached the cottage. Standing with her back against the rear wall she waited again in order to regain her composure.
Slightly above her head and to the right a gentle light emanated from the rear window. No one had used this cottage for years and it had fallen into some disrepair. Someone was using it now.
She inched her way around to the side and then to the corner. A torch burned around at the front of the building, the entrance was well lit. Slowly she peered around the corner than darted her head back. Sitting on a stool a single guard held his position. Intrigued by the mystery, she quietly moved around to the back again and grasped the window sill. She held her breath. Her arm was probably not up to this kind of activity but she had to see what was going on inside. Pulling up, holding her mouth shut against the ache in her arm, she looked into the building, trying to see between the curtains and through the iron bars in the window. There, in the corner of the room, sat a figure she knew well. Letting go, she dropped down onto the earth, down onto her knees. There she stayed, cursing under her breath. 
He lied to me. 

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Two weeks had passed. The cell, although larger than the ones in the village watch-house, seemed to be smaller with each passing day. There was nothing to do but wait. The routine of meals had become mundane and they had nothing left to say to each other after two days. Jim was resigned to the fact they were going to remain there was a long time - perhaps forever.
They had been left alone by the guards - no one had come to see them, even to ask questions. It seemed they had been forgotten. Then after two weeks the door was swung open and Jim was called out again. The Captain was waiting.

“Why don’t we start with you telling us who you work for?” the officer asked pointedly.
“Work for?” Jim replied, sitting in his customary seat in the centre of the room. “I don’t work for anyone.”
“That’s not true is it?” the Captain countered, folding his arms over his chest disapprovingly. “We heard you talking together. You talk like the judges. You’re working for them aren’t you?”
“No.”
“These games are getting tiring.”
“Hold on a minute. You heard us talking like the judges and you assumed that we’re with them. You assumed.” Jim’s faced creased in confusion. “Anyway, aren’t you guys all on the same side?”
The Captain regarded his captive with narrowed eyes. Jim had touched on something. “All right, why don’t you explain it to me? Why don’t you explain how you know the secret tongue of the judges?”
“It’s called English,” Jim explained, “…and it’s the language I grew up on. It’s my native tongue. These judges know it for the same reason I know you’re not Spanish.”
The officer looked confused. “Spanish?”
“Sí Señor,” Jim replied with the best attempt at accent he could devise. “That’s your secret tongue, isn’t it? You don’t look Spanish to me.”
The captain responded with silence and Jim felt obliged to elaborate. “My friend Emily understands all this better than I do but this is how I think it works: A long time ago in this country most of us spoke a language called English. That was because people came here from over the sea – the English. Later on people came from all over the world to live here and with them they brought their own languages. People spoke Chinese, Italian, Greek, French, German, and so on, but most spoke English as well. 
“So you see there was a lot of different tongues and a lot of different people. Now, I’m not too sure what happened to this world, but at some stage all of those languages – including English – were forgotten save for just a few souls. The judges can speak English, you can speak Spanish, and everyone speaks something all together new. Emily could tell you how this new language fits in but all I know is that it’s new.”
The captain had seen the problem in Jim’s explanation. “If English is so old and forgotten, then how is it your native tongue?”
Jim smiled. “I’m older than I look.”
The captain frowned at Jim’s humour, and he had the feeling the captain understood but doubted some of the finer points of the argument.
“I don’t speak Spanish by the way,” the prisoner added, “I only know a few words. ‘Conquistador’ being one: Conqueror.  We’re being invaded aren’t we?”
The Captain’s eyes narrowed again. His prisoner was starting to be the interrogator, not the interrogated. “What makes you believe that?”
“All those ship down south, all those soldiers, professionals all of them if I saw right. They’re not meant to be there in those numbers, regardless of their excuse. I’d say they’re up to something. You think they’re up to something too.”
Jim knew Vincent was standing behind him. A look passed between the two officers and Jim turned to see the lieutenant stand there looking rather nervous. There were events unfolding that Jim was not privy to, and these people were not about to share them readily.
“What’s going on fellas?” Jim asked finally.
The captain did not answer Jim’s enquiry, but posed a question of his own: “Why are the judges bringing their own army into the city? What do you know about it?”
Jim shook his head. Despite his best efforts he had failed to convince them. “I told you already, I don’t know,” he protested. “It looks to me though, that now you’ve got two problems. Why would the judges be dabbling in war?” He shrugged. “Perhaps they are aware of this fleet and are forming up to stop them. Maybe they’re on your side.” Another thought struck him. Surely there were more resources available to the city than the guards and the judge’s makeshift army. “Your country has an army?” he asked them, “What are they doing?”
Vincent answered from behind. “Mostly sitting about and waiting. There’s been some units moving back into the city but that’s fairly common.”
Vincent had jumped in and this earned him a hard look from his superior. Jim had learnt a little more and not had to give anything in return, but what he had learnt had not filled him with much comfort. Now he had to contact the others.
“It sounds to me like you have enough to fight off whatever these Villers throw at you – if that’s their intention. They could be what they say they are.”
Several seconds of silence told him the guards did not believe the excuse for a moment. Jim stated the obvious: “You don’t think so, do you? Well, you should all get together and fight them off. That’s your obvious choice.”
“That is not an option,” Vincent proclaimed, despite the disapproval of his captain. “Not until His Majesty approves such a plan and there is no sign that is likely to happen. If he does though, I cannot see our armies working well together.”
Jim nodded. He knew why. “You don’t trust each other,” he suggested.
“Both the military and the judiciary know what is happening at the Interchange, and neither has told His Majesty,” the lieutenant said. “Either they don’t understand what all this means or they’re planning to tackle the problem themselves.”
“Could they do that? Could they beat off an invasion by themselves?”
“It’s unlikely,” the captain said. “Neither group have the training or discipline required for the task.”
“What about you guys?”
“We have both, but not enough men. We will be swamped quickly.”
“I don’t see you have much of a choice then,” Jim told him. “You’ll have to join together all you’ll all go down.”
Vincent had moved around next to the captain, shaking his head. “It is not going to happen,” he proclaimed.
“Regardless,” the captain added, “…the treaty will ensure that war will not break out. The treaty must be continued – it is our only way to ensure peace.”
“Well, there you go then,” Jim said pleasantly. “The king signs the bit of paper and things go back to the way they were. Still, if that’s the case, then why are the judges building their own army?” Tilting his head, he made a show of considering the thought.
The captain set his face resolutely. “You will teach us this ‘English’,” he demanded.
It was not a request. Now Jim had another card to play. “I don’t think I could,” Jim told him seriously. “I wouldn’t know where to start. But I do know someone who can help you. I could ask them for you, but it will cost you.”
Vincent groaned. “Of course…”
“My friends are in the city somewhere. One of them was injured and I assume he’s with the doctors. There’s a young woman with him, and a village elder. I’d like to talk with them.”
“No,” the captain declined, shaking his head. “No more deals.”
Jim lounged back in his chair. “Suit yourselves,” he said blandly. “You can keep muddling along if you want. Then again, if you help me, then I’ll help you. We already know that system works.”

***

Boyes had never had the pleasure of visiting the prison. Staying on the good side of the law had been something he had resolved to do at a young age. He had no wish to suffer the swift but brutal punishments dealt out by the judges. Hence as he grew older he was elevated to a position of responsibility and respect. Now he was being dragged across the county, dealing with issues he had never had to deal with. Now he was having the time of his life.
The door swung inwards and he was allowed to enter, greeted immediately by his friends with handshakes and rough embraces.
“What’s going on out there?” Sammy asked.
He shrugged. Nothing was happening. The city was quiet.
“You’d better keep a sharper eye out,” Jim warned. “There’s trouble brewing and you may need to get out of the city quickly. We can’t help you in here and you should forget about us if things get crazy.”
“Trouble?”
“We could have three armies about to go at it,” Jim explained. “You won’t want to be in the middle of a war if and when it happens. It looks like the judges have been putting together their own force, probably to match the one at The Interchange – those Villers - but they’re likely to get thumped. Then there’s the regular army, slowly building up. ‘Course none of that many eventuate - I could be panicking over nothing, but you never know. You had better get an escape plan together just in case.”
Boyes frowned. “Can you see Emily leaving you behind?”
Jim put a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll just have to drag her away, because we won’t be coming with you.”
“Is there any word about our appeal?” Lewis enquired, jumping into the conversation. “Are the charges still there?”
The elder shrugged, “I assume so.”
Sammy stared at the young man, his face showing a small amount of annoyance. “I told you it won’t make any difference.”
“Am I missing something here?” Boyes asked them, confused.
“Lewis tried to get Tobias to drop the charges,” Sammy explained.
Boyes laughed at the idea. He could not see that happening for a million years.
Sammy’s face had lost its ire, now he looked resolute. “They won’t be dropped because the appeal will happen. It must happen.”
“Right,” Jim said, slightly sarcastic, nodding his head, “…the book.”
On the voyage from Trade Town to the Interchange, Boyes had found what was called a ‘book’ in his pack – placed there for safekeeping. He passed the item over to the big, dark skinned man, its original owner. Now it had resurfaced again. 
“The book?” Boyes asked. “What has that got to do with it?”
Jim shook his head. “Don’t ask.”
“This is all a matter of timing,” Sammy added confidently. “The invasion comes after I give His Majesty the book. After, not before.”
“That’s if there’s going to be an invasion.” Jim qualified. “You’ve got it all worked out then?” he asked Sammy.
Boyes had seen that smile before. The big, dark man used it when he wished to be mysterious. Sometimes he came across as smug. There were too many questions that remained unanswered with these people – he should at least make some attempt at unravelling the web of mysteries that surrounded them.
“None of this makes any sense,” the elder declared. 
Jim had sat down onto his bed. “You’ve got that right.”
“We’re being guided by dreams, friends,” Sammy told them all. “A dream I had months ago puts us here, in this city, talking to the king. It also suggests things hadn’t deteriorated to all out war. So far we’ve moved toward the fulfilment of that dream and I see nothing to indicate we won’t continue in that same way.”
What Sammy was saying worried the elder deeply. The thing he was suggesting was dangerous, outlawed, and subversive. Boyes was in danger just listening to it, let alone being a part of it. “All this talk of dreams…” he began.
Sammy forestalled his objections. “I know… I know it’s hard for you. I’ve heard the judges would come down firmly on anyone talking like I am, but you’re all just going to have to get used to it. Things are going to change.”
Jim shook his head at the obvious. “We should concentrate on what’s going on now and leave the future for later,” he suggested to them all. Then he turned to the elder, asking: “You know what to do?”
“I think so.”
“Good,” Jim nodded decisively. “Oh, one more thing…” he added as an afterthought, “…can you get us our packs?”

***

Carl kept working in his study until well after the rest of the house had retired. The work he had completed in the previous weeks had brought a heavy toll on him. He had lost sleep, appetite and weight. He was working all the time, trying to keep it all together. Above all, he fought to maintain the perception that his new empire was as solid as rock and that he, as the new lord of his extended estate, controlled it with iron resolve. If anyone knew the truth - that they could blow down his house with one firm breath - then all would be lost.
Someone else was awake. She stood at the doorway, her form silhouetted against the lamp in the hall. She realised he had seen her and she moved into the study to stand before his desk.
“How’s the arm, sister?” he asked her.
“Catherine says it will be two weeks more until the splint can be removed.”
“That is longer than usual, isn’t it?”
She shrugged indifferently. “It is something to do with the kind of break I think. What are you still doing up?”
He sighed. “There is always work to do, sister. This estate will not run itself. Now I have other responsibilities as well. When the elders resigned I was left to manage the town and surrounds as well. Now that the trade system has collapsed, I have to reorganise that too.”
“I see now why father passed the estate to you,” she confessed seriously. “I would never have coped with it at all.”
“It was for the best. Now I can care for you and mother just like father did – even better perhaps. I have plans. The influence of the Delvores will stretch far beyond anything father had imagined.”
There was a look in her eyes, a kind of respect. “You’re a visionary. I should have realised that from the beginning.”
She lowered her eyes to the ground. Her declarations seemed to embarrass her. He had kept her here for her own good and now she was starting to see reason. She was ready to rejoin the family.
“What is it, sister?” he asked her, almost tenderly. “Is it about before? Forget about it. That’s in the past. I know you’re ready for the future - a future with us.”
“I am,” she agreed. “I’m ready.”
She looked up. His acceptance was all she needed to regain her confidence. She beamed.
“I have an idea,” she ventured tentatively. “It will get us more land, more control - but it will mean some risk.”
“Go on…”
She did: “The Scarcella and Vrakis families are the only two that can stand against you. They will block any real changes you want to make. They will stop you reorganising the trade system. You need to neutralise their influence.”
“How do you propose that I do that?” he asked her, interested but still suspicious.
“Relieve them of their holdings,” she suggested, emboldened. “You have enough men to do it easily. Then they will be just common citizens like all the others. Really, they will all thank you in the end. A safer, more organised town; better trade; everyone will benefit.”
He sat back in his chair and considered the proposal. There were problems that he could see immediately. “People could get hurt,” he told her. “I don’t know. The village might not stand for a monopoly.”
She moved forward, her face calm and confident, her voice soothing. She was seeking to allay his fears. “People won’t get hurt if you move quickly,” she promised. “You have to do it properly and I’ll help you. They’ll have no choice. You’ll tell them - this is how it will be. Together brother…” she said, smiling, “… we can’t lose.”
He shook his head. “I will need some reason to take their lands, more than just ‘trust me’.”
“I’ve already thought of that. The tall ones cheated you on the grain harvest and they were assisted by Boyes and Laydon. They were working for Scarcella and Vrakis. The plan was to undermine you. They cheated you, and through that they cheated the whole village.”
“That’s not true though.”
“No,” she said, leaning forward as if imparting a secret, “…but who is around to disagree with you. Boyes is off on some adventure with the tall ones, and Laydon will not be talking to anyone ever again.”

***

They were all dragged out of the cell a week later. Jim had been out twice but saw nothing of the outside world. He knew nothing of the weather. He wouldn’t even know if it was night or day except for the time on his watch. The other two had an even worse time. They knew only the four walls of the cell, and the view of the corridor through the bars. For the last three weeks they had lived in perpetual torch light, bright enough to see but not enough to stop them sleeping when the time came.
Morning arrived and they received a better breakfast than usual. As they ate quietly, the suspicion that this could well be their last meal played on all their minds. As they finished, the door swung open again and they were signalled to exit. Led down the passage into the questioning room, Jim noticed the absence of the usual chair. Instead a bowl of water sat on a rough wooden table, steaming with hot water. Towels and changes of clothes sat in piles next to the bowl.
Vincent was waiting for them to arrive. He was dressed simply; his thin loose fitting tunic and pants seemed almost like undergarments.
“Get cleaned up,” he ordered. “You haven’t got much time. Audiences start soon and you’re on the list.”
The three began to undress then splash the water over their bodies. As he dried himself with his towel, Jim noticed the activity around him. The room was full of men, dressed as Vincent was, practicing their art. With light, short staffs in hand, they attacked each other, the wooden sticks clacking incessantly as they darted this way and that with agility and speed. Others had no need of weapons. They fought with their hands and feet and were just as dangerous as the other group. These unarmed warriors caught Jim’s attention most. He could not place which style they employed – it seemed to be a synergy of several, but it was well practiced and graceful.
Vincent saw them changed and called over his fellows. They pulled on their uniforms, bright red in colour, with trim shimmering gold. The shoulders were grotesquely large, designed to extenuate the broadness of them but only achieving absurdity. Likewise the pants flared out the sides like the early twentieth century generals. Black boots and a black tall hat completed the picture.
Jim regarded the four that were to escort them to the audience with a faintly amused smile. This was not received favourably by the lieutenant.
“What?” Vincent asked his defensively.
Jim hid his amusement. “Nothing… nothing.”
“Listen,” the lieutenant told them all, his voice betraying his irritation. “There will be no trouble today, you understand? I will be taking you to the audience hall. There you will be called to the front when it is your turn and the king will hear your case. He will listen to the judges as well. Then he will decide on the appeal and the sentence. People will be watching today. Something like this has never happened before. No one has ever appealed to the king.
“We’d heard that,” Sammy said, asking: “Why is that?”
“No one ever knew they could. I didn’t know until I met you. The judges are not happy this is happening; now everyone knows any decision that’s made can be challenged. The king will be swamped with all sorts of problems. There is a good chance we won’t get heard. There are always a lot of items on the agenda, so I wouldn’t hope to have this resolved today.”  
Turning to his escort, Vincent sighed. “We’d better get on with this, I suppose.”

It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining and the sky was blue from horizon to horizon. The walk should have taken ten minutes but it took double that. Vincent and his guards were obliged to conduct a stately and rather ostentatious march. Therefore the three prisoners were able to enjoy the morning sunshine and the freedom longer than they would have ordinarily. The march also attracted the attention of all on the street, many of who stopped to laugh. Vincent set his face in an expression of determination and continued.
The city of Mharum, on the likewise named river, was split into two. The portion that the prison was located was the western part. As they marched through, docks, factories and markets were seen. This was obviously the business end of the capital. The final buildings of the working area stood in a row. They were a barrier, a wall. Once through them the constructions were more ornate, more subtle. Gone were the rough brick walls, now they were rendered and coloured. 
The ground sloped up from the river to a hill and there sitting in a commanding position was the palace. It was not as spectacular as those seen in ancient times - it was distinct only by its size, towering over the houses of the rich and influential.
As Jim walked slowly through the city one thing became clear to him. Mharum had not been built to defend itself. Around the outskirts of the city stood a wall, tall but was in no way stout and there was no evidence of a real defensive system. If an invasion was impending then it was clear the outcome would be inevitable.  

***

The lieutenant was getting impatient again. The slow progression along the street and the derision of the onlookers served only to grate on his nerves. He knew what was coming - he knew where they had to pass through. There ahead was the final square and then the entrance gates. Before they could pass through them, they had to navigate the square. Of late some of the army had taken up harassing the guard as they moved in and out of the gates. The uniform and marching had been too much of a temptation to resist mocking. Thus Vincent steeled himself against humiliation and pushed his group, perhaps a little fast than was customary, through the square and the taunting and into the palace grounds.
Once inside he relaxed and slowed the pace, the sounds of laughter fading as they moved further from the square.
Jim’s voice came from behind. “What was all that about?” he asked, incredulous.
Vincent chose not to answer. He kept on going toward the central building of the palace. The man walking behind, being escorted, would not relent.
“That’s ridiculous,” Jim continued, “…that whole performance was ridiculous.”
Vincent stopped them all, turned then leaned forward so that his prisoner, and only him, could hear. His voice was taut, strained.  
“You’re right,” he said quietly. “It is. But it’s also necessary. You’ve seen things today that not many people have seen so you will keep quiet. In fact, you will not speak for the remainder of the day unless I say that you can. Do you understand?”
Jim said nothing, which was as good as an affirmative.

***

The room was full of people of all kinds and creeds. From the lowly to the most exalted they were there, but not necessarily all in the same space. To the rear of the vast room Jim and his friends were placed, their guards around them, waiting for their turn. Proceedings had begun, those called before the king sat in groups, in rows throughout the hall, some hidden from view by huge columns of stone which served to support the roof which was so tall it seemed to vanish up into the heavens.
At the opposite end, elevated on a dais, sat a person Jim suspected was the king. He sat on his throne, listening to the discourse before him, hour after hour. People came before him, discussing matters of policy, diplomacy, security and all the while he listened, yawning increasingly as time marched on. Slowly his placed his left arm on the arm-rest of his seat and lowered his chin into the palm of his hand.
Over the period of an hour or two, Jim realised what he was seeing before him. Over that time he devised how he would keep them all alive. He smiled, leaning forward in his seat in order to offer Sammy a knowing wink.
The seat next to Jim was occupied by the lieutenant, straining forward, trying to capture every word. Strangely the throng was virtually silent. The crowd was a congregation, and this was their church. Vincent had no trouble hearing what was said to the king, the echoes reverberated about the room, carrying to his ears.
There at the end of the row Emily appeared along with Boyes. Daniel was nowhere to be seen and Jim assumed he was still not up and about. Emily gave a weak smile. She was faring well by the look of her, but Jim wanted to hear her voice in order to be sure. Today could be their last day on earth - the others may have forgotten that fact, but it was still heavy on Jim’s mind despite Sammy’s assurances that things would go well. Emily looked nervous, perhaps she felt the same way as he did, and he wanted to re-assure her, but the best he could offer was the smile returned.
Suddenly Vincent spat - bringing Jim’s attention back to the activity at the front of the hall. “That was a lie,” he hissed. “He is lying through his teeth.”
Jim sensed that anything above a whisper would be probably frowned upon. He leant forward to the Lieutenant to converse with him. “Who?” Jim asked him.
“General Ducat,” Vincent replied as if the name had any meaning to the prisoner.
Jim was looking over the heads in front of him, to the front where the discourse was occurring. “What’s he saying?” he asked.
“He is telling His Majesty that there is only a small contingent moored at the Interchange. He had neglected to mention the other ships that arrived two days ago and the large amount that were already there. There are now fourteen ships there now. He knows that as well I do.”
“Why’s he lying?”
“I don’t know.”
Jim took his eyes from the front, locking his gaze on the lieutenant. “Is fourteen ships enough? Do they have enough to invade?”
“No. It’s not enough,” Vincent told him, “…but there is something going on. While there’s still a treaty we’re safe, but I won’t be relaxing until that thing gets signed away again.”
“Do you think they’re planning to disrupt it?” Jim asked in a forced whisper.
“If the treaty doesn’t continue then I don’t know where that puts us.”
“Do something. Tell him,” Jim urged.
“I can’t. It’s not my place. I am only here to serve, not get involved in the politics.”
“You are involved wether you know it or not,” Jim told him, his voice rising above what would have been considered acceptable. “If these people are keeping the king in the dark then they are counting on you to keep quiet as well. If this kingdom falls it will not be because they pulled it down, but because the people who had the power to stop it, did nothing.”
Jim lifted himself up off his seat to see and hear better. The general stood in regal repose, informing the king of developments in the southern port. The king continued to listen absently, trusting what he was told implicitly. Even with fourteen ships the Villers could not complete an invasion without difficulty. The entire realm stood on the edge of a precipice and there were numerous people standing back waiting to see if it would fall. 
If the Red Guards were unable to inform the king of the truth, then someone should. Standing upright in one swift movement, Jim called out, drowning the General’s dissertation. The listening crowd turned, almost as one to face him. Vincent could not have stopped him - he was too quick and by the time the lieutenant realised what had happened the damage was done. Jim knew he was likely dead, his fate was probably to be decided by some uncaring bureaucrat, so he became determined to make something of this final time. His voice rang out again, clear and true, loud enough to be heard by the king, who looked over in his direction. The monarch was almost standing, he was squinting into the distance until his eyes locked square on Jim’s face. He face did not show anger, only interest.
Vincent grabbed him, tried to pull him down, and Jim had one last time to reiterate his accusation:
“That’s all crap! There are enough ships and men for the start of an invasion, not just a visit. Watch your kingdom, Your Majesty. Someone’s looking to take it away from you!”
Then he was pulled from his place. Vincent and two of his men had seized him, pulling him backward and through a nearby door. In his wake was an uproar, the sound of shouting was heard clearly from the hallway outside the audience chamber. 
The king had seen him. He was no longer a faceless person in the crowd.
He would be remembered.

Chapter Thirty

For the last four hours Jim sat in a small cell all by himself in the dark. No outside noise found its way into the cubical, the reason chiefly due to its isolation from the remainder of the prison. There was no bed there, only the bare, stone floor, which Jim made use of, patiently waiting for the next events to unfold. He was unaware of the fates of any of the others but deep inside knew they were alright.
Looking up, he could see no roof and no window. The air was cool and stale and no breeze came from under the door. He sighed, resigned to a long wait, listening to his belly growl in the darkness.
He closed his eyes and lost track of time. They opened only as the door to the cell opened, admitting a figure silhouetted in the ribbon of light emanating from a lamp opposite the door in the corridor.
A lamp came into the cell, carried by another who entered – possibly one of the guards - handing it to the central figure, his features now becoming clearer. When the door was slammed shut behind them both Jim crawled up and sat against the wall.
Jim guessed his visitors identify before the man spoke. “Good afternoon, Your Majesty.”
His guest squatted down and regarded Jim with a curious expression. There was something out of place with the king. Gone were the regal robes of his office - instead he was dressed as a common man - like Jim had been in the past when communing with the locals. In many respects, there was an odd similarity between the two of them. Even dressed as they were, they were both impostors – their dress telling nothing of either of their origins.
“Do you realize that in the eight years that I have been king,” His Majesty began, a hint of amusement in his voice, “…your outburst has been the most interesting thing that has happened? I have sat in that same chair and listened to the same things – day in and day out - sometimes I’ve even fell asleep. Then you came along…”
“I’m happy I could entertain you,” Jim replied blandly.
The king regarded him carefully, even in the poor light of solitary both men’s features were able to be seen. “Have we met before?” he asked finally.
“I don’t think so.”
“You look familiar.”
Jim shrugged indifferently. “The light perhaps,” he offered as a kind of explanation.
“Hmm…” The king considered it, then moved to the purpose of his clandestine visit (for that is what it was - if it was an otherwise, the king would have dressed more officially). “What did you mean when you called out to me? You said: ‘Watch your kingdom’. What did you mean?”
“I would think it was fairly self explanatory. There is a large fleet sitting down south and growing all the time. Maybe it’s not enough to invade successfully, but that could be only a matter of time. I thought you should know that, seeing as the people who have been telling you things are missing out some important details.”
“I have been assured that there is absolutely no dishonourable intention by the Villers,” the king counted.
“Who told you that?”
“My Chief of Defence…”
“That general I heard talking to you?” Jim asked him, and then continued with a disbelieving tone. “Well of course. It must be true. Don’t worry about it then.”
“But you still think I should worry about it?”
“Not just me. Even your own people seem a little concerned. But unlike me they don’t think it’s their place to say. These people are the ones you should be talking to. They don’t have an agenda.”
The king smiled, shaking his head. “General Ducat does not have an agenda.”
“Of course not…” Jim remained sceptical.
“But you do.” The king was looking right at the prisoner, getting right to the issue.
“Oh, absolutely,” Jim answered truthfully, losing his sarcasm. “I’d like to get out of here. I’d not like to have that death sentence hanging over my head. My life and the lives of those that came here with me are in your hands.”
He was speaking honestly, trying as best as he could to gain the trust of the man who held his life. “So, drawing attention to myself has brought our plight to your notice, and yes, telling you the truth has – I hope – helped our cause some. Whatever my motive it’s still the truth. But like I said, you don’t need to take my word for it – you can ask these guys.” He waved absently to the guards, one standing in a dark corner of the cell, and those standing ready just outside the door.
“I’m not saying you should believe me,” Jim continued, “and I’m not saying you should believe your guards, or the general, or anyone for that matter. I’m just saying you should keep an eye out for what’s going on. You know who you can trust? Ask them. See for yourself, okay?”
“You’re not accustomed to speaking to kings, are you?”
Jim smiled easily. “No,” he said, “…and I doubt you will have ever spoken to someone like me either.”
The king stood and nodded decisively to the guard sharing the room with him. There was a deft knock of the door and it opened once again.
“We’ll talk again,” His Majesty promised.
“I look forward to it,” Jim answered as the door was slammed shut again and the darkness returned. Steps could be heard, fading quickly. Jim yelled after them, “…any chance of being let out of here?” but they were already out of earshot and he remained unanswered.

***

The Judicial Council was a daunting group. The members were almost all over fifty, having served in the judiciary for most of their lives and years of self-servitude had warped their perception of life. Tobias barely tolerated their presence individually but found himself almost unable to contain his ire at being present where they were collected together. Thus he found himself in their midst the following morning after the captive Jim’s outburst. He was there to explain himself. After a long and torturous hour the meeting was convened and the council went their separate ways. Finally, only Tobias and the Chief Justice remained. The former suspected they were there to discuss matters that were unfit for the general council.
Pale and bald, Anzellotti, the Chief Justice of Mharum Council sat at the end of the table and regarded Tobias with an expression that suggested loathing. Inwardly, the judge shared the sentiment in return. This man was nothing like Zacharie, the Chief Justice of Trade Town.
The Chief Justice sighed. “Tobias. These people you have brought to us…” he began.
“Yes?” Tobias raised his eyebrows, confident he knew what was coming next.
“I see several problems immediately. Firstly, they are here on appeal. Appeal?”
Tobias was tired of answering this question. “That was not my doing,” he replied sourly. “They came up with that all on their own. I was obliged to bring them here on that basis.”
“And Avolio agreed?”
Tobias spoke as if he had a bad taste in his mouth. “He was even happy about the arrangement.”
“I see. And where is our colleague now?”
“Indisposed...”
“Hmmm… You realise that now any decision any of us make from here on is open to appeal. This turn of events has reversed all of the gains we have made in these last three hundred years. We have been made redundant. Do you even realise the lengths we have gone through to keep this process out of general knowledge?”
“Of course I do,” Tobias responded angrily. “This is not the arrangement I wanted. They were to be tried and executed quickly. This entire situation has been dragging on for over a month.”
“How did they know about a secret and ancient law that no one has been aware of for centuries? They came up with this all by themselves you say?”
Tobias was being cornered and he was being forced to detail his motives. There was no getting around this. At least he could try. “I don’t know how they knew. This was just a simple matter made complicated.” He tried to sound confident. “The king will assign their fate to some underling that we can control and then that will be the end of it.”
“Do you really think you can pass this off as a simple matter? Just their appearance suggests that they are anything but simple. You had a reason for all of this,” Anzellotti suggested, “…you may not have intended that it go this far, but you had reason to start it.”
There it was. He was wide open.
Tobias cursed under his breath. “I learned very soon after their arrival that one of them was in possession of a book. I suspected it was literature we did not want in circulation, so I took steps to recover it. When that failed, I was forced to act with more ‘permanent’ results.”
“You acted appropriately,” the Chief Justice conceded. “Where is this book now?”
“Unfortunately I have not recovered it as yet. I believe it is in the possession of one of these criminals.”
“You will recover it,” he told Tobias adamantly.
“That is a little difficult as they still reside in the gaol-house,” Tobias countered. “The guards control their access at present. I don’t think they will be keen to let me just walk in and take it.”
“You are resourceful if anything, Tobias. You’ll solve the problem.”
Tobias had other reasons for the recovery of the book, those that were more imperative, but nonetheless the task would be difficult. There was one option open to him - he would have to wait for the opportunity to avail himself of it. He nodded in agreement.
Anzellotti was not finished. “The one that spoke up at the audience - he must be silenced.”
“That too will be difficult.”
“Knowledge is a dangerous thing,” the Chief Justice spoke sagely, “…and he seems to know too much. If the king were to learn of what is happening in his world…”
“His Majesty will learn of it regardless, the real problem is when.” 
“You concentrate on the matters that we assign you,” Anzellotti told him. “Let us worry about these other issues.”
Dismissed, Tobias returned to his room and sent for Ryan. After the morning’s interrogation, the judge was abrupt in his directions: “Find Avolio.”
Ryan looked uncomfortable. “I don’t like this,” he declared. “Killing an itinerate farmer is one thing, but a judge? There will be some serious ramifications…”
“That is my concern,” Tobias told him flatly. “You do what I tell you.”
“Where do you propose I start looking?”
“Try the taverns and bars first and then work out from there. Just find him.”

***

He waited expectantly. The culmination of years of preparation came down to these next few days. His father had set things in motion ten years prior, just before his death, with the first treaty. It had saved them when they were weakened by internal strife, the Villers assisted in bringing order. It was due to expire, to be renewed in two days and nothing would get in the way of that process.
He stood in front of his throne, with his arms folded over his chest, waiting for them to arrive. They were already in the palace, making their way through the Grand Hall, only moments from the door to the Audience Room. One his servants, one whose name he did not know, proceeded them, pushing through the door and nodding to Vamedja.
His Prime Minister was as old as his father, indeed this man had been the last advisor the previous king had employed. He was well educated, literate and intelligent – possessing all the skills necessary for a diplomat. The treaty that had absorbed so much of their time of late was his doing.
The Prime Minister leaned over, speaking quietly in the king’s ear, knowing that words carry well in this chamber. “Here they come, Majesty,” he announced, then stood upright, smoothing back his silver hair over his scalp, ruffling his rich and officious robe. “This is your first major diplomatic issue,” he was saying. “Keep your eye on me at all times, Majesty. I’ll guide you through it.”
“Thank you, Vamedja,” the king said with all sincerity. “It’s comforting to know that you’re here.”
The Prime Minister breathed in deeply at the sounds that carried from the doorway at the other end of the hall, exhaling as he spoke. “Stand tall. Here they are.”
The door swung open abruptly and they entered. Their guard came first - black uniforms resplendent, with heavy swords at their sides and their faces set hard as stone. Then the officials came – two of them. They stepped easily along the red carpet that ran a line from the door to the steps to the throne. Not looking left or right, they proceeded up - interested only on what was ahead of them. They wore robes of silver lined with red and their faces were resolute and slightly aloof. Others followed, scarcely important enough to notice – they were servants and assistants – essential people for any undertaking of this nature.
Finally they stood before him. No one spoke for a long time and he waited again, unsure of the protocol but trusting in his own people.
Both of them were similarly dressed, indeed they were garbed similarly as his own Prime Minister, in the same style of robe. Man would always be slaves to fashion, and at present those in power chose this style. Only the colour differed. Vamedja wore a dark blue, and the Villers, black.
“Your Majesty,” Vamedja began finally, “…may I introduce His Excellency Ambassador Kammat of Viller, and his assistant, Zizza.”
Both bowed low and the king returned same, though not as low. Kammat was middle aged and greying. The job had its stresses, and the man showed it in his heavily tanned face. Zizza was younger and non-descript. He bore himself arrogantly, as if he bristled at the thought of being the subordinate - as if he thought himself bigger than the role he was forced to play.
Without thinking (and without prompt from his advisor) the king smiled and extended a greeting: “Welcome, your Excellency.” 
The quiet cough from behind told his he had spoken out of turn.
One of the men stepped forward, the assistant Zizza, droning officially to his superior, completing the introduction. Once again they exchanged bows then stood in silence. It was Vamedja who directed proceedings, leading the two up the three steps to the dais.
“Your Excellency,” he continued, “…your arrival has been long awaited. We have accommodation for yourself and your retinue. I trust it will be of your liking.
“Thank you,” Zizza answered for the Ambassador. “His Excellency is most grateful.”
“His Excellency is too kind. The documents will be signed two days hence then we have a gathering arranged in your honour. If you would come through, I will direct you to your apartments.”
After more bowing the group moved through a door to the left of the throne, back into the hallway behind. Down the end of the corridor, behind a two heavy and guarded doors the king and his family resided in his personal apartments. Before they reached these doors, Vamedja turned to the left again directing them to the guest wing and to their rooms.
Finally they had reached where the Prime Minister had arranged for the ambassador’s party to reside. Before each door stood a servant, standing erect and attentive, waiting for their charges to be assigned and to take on their needs. Vamedja directed each of the guests to a room and left them in the care of those assigned.
The king watched the ambassador move to enter his room and he spoke, likely out of turn, probably placing the whole arrangement in jeopardy. He had to know something. “Excuse me, Your Excellency. A moment if you will.”
The ambassador’s assistant went to speak, to intervene, but Kammat reached out to stop him.
“Yes, Your Majesty?” Kammat replied in a thick foreign accent.
“I had a question… There has been some talk - my people tell me you have ships and men at The Interchange.”
“We always do, Your Majesty,” the Ambassador said with a faint smile. “It is part of the agreement as you know.”
“Yes, of course… of course. The issue is the amount of ships and men. Some say there is ten ships, some fourteen. I don’t think for a moment that there is any question of your loyalty to our agreement, but perhaps you could put my mind at rest.” He swallowed hard and asked the question he so much wanted the answer to: “How many ships are there at the Interchange?”
Kammat frowned. “I have not come from there personally, you understand,” he explained. “We have both come from the port at Khobah. I am sure that there are only the amount of ships and men that we are permitted by the agreement.”
“And your retinue?” the king pressed as politely as he was able.
“What you see here, our ship and personal guard. That’s all.”
“Thank you, Your Excellency.” He bowed in gratitude to the ambassador. “That has been a comforting reassurance. I look forward to meeting with you again to complete this treaty. Our great nations can continue to work together for the better of both our lands.”
“I look forward to it too,” Kammat replied warmly.
Again bowing featured prominently in the exchange and then they parted - the ambassador and his assistant into their rooms and the king and his Prime Minister back to the audience hall. Once they were away from prying ears, Vamedja sought answers.
“That was a dangerous game, Your Majesty,” he cautioned his king. He did not sound angry, just annoyed.
“How so?”
“We need his signature on the bottom of that document. He may just decide not to sign it on the basis of our mistrust.”
The king shook his head. “I don’t mistrust him.”
“It certainly sounded like you did,” Vamedja disagreed. “Where did that come from? Ducat gave you a conclusive report. There is only a small contingent moored there. You listened to that fool shouting across the room yesterday, didn’t you? Don’t. Trust me, not some criminal you’ve just met.”
The king looked shamefaced. “I do trust you, I do,” he protested. When the Prime Minister relaxed a little, the king as free to speculate on what he had learnt. “Why did he lie about the retinue?”
“He didn’t lie,” Vamedja disagreed. “The retinue is as he said.”
“Then Ducat lied. Either those ships are the ambassador’s retinue or they are not. I think not. Kammat came from the north, those ships are south.”
“A very good point,” the Prime Minister conceded.
After a moment Vamedja smiled and placed a reassuring hand on the king’s shoulder. “You have a lot to concern you with, Your Majesty,” he said. “This signing is the pinnacle of your reign so far. I might respectfully suggest you concentrate on that and not this irritating rumour. I will look into it - ask some questions. I will see what I can find out. In the end I am sure it will be easily and innocently explained.” 
He relaxed. “Thank you, Vamedja. I would be grateful if you would.”
“I will also deal with these people - these applicants. We can’t have people making a mockery of your position. Yelling in the chamber!” He snorted with derision. “You need not concern yourself with these people either.”
“Ah… no, thank you all the same, Vamedja.” The king shook his head. “I think I will handle that one. It has been passed to me by law so I shall hear the issue out.”
His Prime Minster bowed and relented. “As you wish, Your Majesty.”

***

Daniel had been waiting days to see her alone. There always seemed to be extra people around hovering, watching and listening. He needed to see her, there was something inside him that drove him to this need, a need that would be satisfied when he had said what he needed to say and done what was necessary.
For a week he had been confined to bed and now he was allowed up, slowly so as not to disturb the work done to save his life. Gingerly he swung his legs over the edge of his cot and stood, the movement aggravating the ache in his chest and side. Breathing deeply made it worse and he tired to limit the amount of movement his chest made, limit the work the muscles between his ribs had to do.
The door was ten steps away and step by step he slowly made it there, gasping the handle to the door and pushing his way through. The hall was deserted - the inhabitants of the college were eating probably, judging by the time. Using the wall as support he inched along to the end of the hall and followed it around to the right. This corridor terminated with two doors, currently open, leading into the garden. Sunlight and fresh air had reputedly been the mainstay of his recovery.
She sat alone, as she was oft to do, in thought, eating her lunch, engrossed to the point where she did not hear him approach. He was three steps away when the crunch of leaves underfoot drew him to her attention. Amelia smiled at him warmly, standing to take his arm so that he could safely sit.
“Daniel, I didn’t see you there,” she said gently. “Please, sit with me.”
“Thank you, Madam.”
“Please,” she chided softly, pulling him down to the seat. “You don’t need to call me that. Amelia will suffice.”
He looked uncomfortable. “I’ve always had trouble calling you that,” he admitted.
“It’s my name, Daniel,” She reminded him, looking him over all the while, appraising his condition. “You’re looking better,” she declared finally.
“Thank you. I’m feeling better too. I’m sorry to disturb you - I wanted to ask you something…” She nodded for him to continue and he did. “…the necklace.”
“The necklace?”
“We’re not going to play that game, are we?” he asked her, slightly annoyed at her evasiveness. “We both know what I am talking about: Marianna’s necklace, her Flame.”
“I see. And how do you know about that?”
“She told me,” he explained boldly. “No, that’s not quite true. She showed me. When we were walking through the hills before we were attacked, she showed me in a dream. She took her necklace from your bag while you slept. She took it right out and handed it to me. She said she wanted me to have it.”
Amelia didn’t speak and her mouth hung open in surprise.
“I’m right, aren’t I?” he deduced. “You have her necklace, don’t you?”
Closing her mouth, her face was set. “Wait here.”
He waited patiently for her return. There in the sun he closed his eyes and allowed the warmth of it to rejuvenate his body and soul. No one interrupted him here - he was hoping they wouldn’t as most likely Amelia would not give him what he needed if there were others about. She returned ten minutes later, her face unreadable, holding something in her hand. She opened it slowly, revealing the necklace and flame shaped charm.
“There is more happening here than you think,” she said quietly. “You believe you are just asking for her necklace, and you may even think you know what it means to take it, but I don’t know what this will mean to your future, to any of our futures.” She swallowed, worry evident on her face. “You said you saw her?”
He nodded.
“Why do you think she came to you?”
He sighed. “She wanted me to do something. The necklace had nothing to do with the task – no, she wanted me to save Avolio.”
“By save I assume you mean…”
“Be run through for him, yes,” he said, finishing her sentence.
Her eyes were wide with surprise. “And you did it?” she asked him incredulously. She knew the answer to the question she had just asked – she had been there after all.
“She left me with no choice,” he continued sadly. “She tricked me. So yes, I know there are powers beyond what we can see or understand at work. I know because that same power has been working with me, and I can see they have been working with you as well.”
She offered her hand out to him, offered the flame necklace, and he reached out and took the strand, holding it up to the light. The sun caught the red in the charm, lighting his face in its crimson reflection.
“Thank you,” he said, smiling.
He placed it over his neck, letting the cool red metal fall down onto his chest.
“This symbol means more than we know,” he told her. “…and someday, soon I think, we’ll not have to hide it. Someday soon the secrets that have been hidden from us all – about who we are, where we came from, where we are going – will be given to us.” 
He smiled again. “There has been too much fear for too long. Now is the time for us to shake it off because there is a change in the wind and we will need all our strength and courage to ride it.”
She shook her head, taken aback by his manner. He was talking like Sammy now, and that seemed to disturb her. “I don’t know what to do,” she confessed her fears to him. “There’s too much that I don’t know. How can I know the way forward, how can I know what to do when that wind comes?”
“We just have to keep doing what we are doing, and hope.”
She sighed. “We’ve had so little of that for so long.”
“It’s there,” he promised. “I’ve seen it. These people that we have been saddled with, they hope.”
“Is that why you follow them?”
“I follow them because they promise a future. I see in them a way to lift the curse on our world, as my father frequently told me they would do. They see that future too I think, and they seem to be rushing headlong towards it.”
He pulled the sides of his collar in to hide the Flame that hung from his neck. He sighed. “I have to get better. I’m not going to miss what happens next.”

***

Jim had been singing. Oh how he had been singing. Having not what you would call a naturally gifted voice, he nonetheless lifted his head and bellowed out a tune as best he was able. In the shower, and in places such as these, where the acoustics were better, the signer would be encouraged. His voice reverberated through the complex grandly, reaching the ears of the guards who looked on with abject confusion.
The door finally opened as it had before, with the light streaming into his darkness. He fell silent, letting the last line of his song echo though the hall. Smiling at his returned visitor, he motioned for him to enter.
“They’ve sent the boss man in again?” Jim observed pleasantly. “Doesn’t anyone like my singing?”
The king returned the smile and entered, looking about the cell. It was the same – dark, small, bleak. “I like what you have done with the place,” His Majesty said, mimicking the sarcasm Jim had applied in the previous visit. 
“It’s the homey touches that really make solitary confinement,” Jim agreed.
“Hmmm…” the king mused. “I think you’ve been in here long enough.”
Jim had been sitting for a long time, his limbs were stiff and he needed some time to stretch them out. He received the opportunity to do so while walking with the king and his guards out in the passage. It was long and was lined with cells like he had just been in. They were dark and empty, evidenced by the doors wide open.
“You’re showing great trust walking with a convicted murderer,” Jim remarked quietly.
“You don’t seem that dangerous to me. Regardless, my friends here…” He gestured to the king’s guardsmen that walked with them, “…would have killed you moments after you made any move towards me.”
“These guys,” Jim snorted, “They don’t seem that scary to me. You’ve seen their hats?”
The king laughed. The hats were ridiculous, but he obviously knew as well as Jim they were a disguise.
“Before we return you to your friends I wanted to have a word with you. That’s why I am here - I wanted to ask your opinion on something.”
“I’m honoured,” said Jim truthfully. “Do you trust me now?”
“Not quite yet,” His Majesty replied guardedly, “…but what you have told me so far has been true.”
“So you’ve learnt something else then? You want an opinion on that?”
“The ambassador has arrived and I spoke to him personally,” the king explained. “The flotilla at the Interchange cannot be part of his retinue. He did not come from there - he came from our northern port in one ship. These others are something else entirely.”
“Do you believe his explanation?” Jim received a nod in return and he continued. “Well, that’s what I’d think: they’re something else entirely – as you said. You don’t need me to work that out.”
“The treaty is due to be signed,” the monarch continued, “this is of utmost importance, and I have a fleet of warships and warriors sitting off my coast. I wasn’t nervous before, but I am now.”
“You’re only nervous because you know. You were ignorant before, blissfully ignorant.”
The king stopped, slightly shocked. “Did you call me ignorant just now?”
“No offence,” Jim added with a smile. “You know what I mean.” Jim scratched the stubble on his chin. “Remember that the people that work for you and tell you things know the truth and they’re not telling you. What should be foremost in your mind is why. The thing that concerns me most about your situation is that the force you’re worried about isn’t big enough – yet. If their intention is to take your kingdom – and you have to seriously consider that – then they’re going to need some help.”
The king narrowed his eyes. “Are you suggesting I have traitors in my midst?”
“I’m not suggesting anything… I’m speculating. That’s all I can do for you in here. Just speculate on what you tell me.”
The king started to walk again, towards the end of the corridor and the warm lights of the guard room. “Well, you’ll have plenty of time to speculate,” he said.
“Does that mean you have made a decision about us?” Jim asked, being pushed from behind after the king.
“Let’s just say that I have decided to keep you around for the time being. Remember, while you are interesting and helpful I shall keep you alive.”
Jim was dragged into this part of the prison two days earlier and he had no opportunity to observe the path that was taken to place him into his cell. He was surprised then to find himself at the doorway to the common room, and the king stopped there waiting for Jim’s reply: “Whatever Your Majesty wishes.”
The king smiled, his white teeth gleaming in the light from the common room. The captain joined them dressed in casual attire.
“You’re learning,” His Majesty observed grandly. “Good. The next time we shall talk it will be in the palace.” He sniffed at the air, at the stench that permeated the guard house. Jim had been there long enough not to notice it any more. “I really don’t like coming here,” he said with some distaste.
He turned to the captain and nodded, crossing the floor of the common room leaving Jim standing with three guardsmen. 
“About the party,” the king was saying as he moved out of earshot. “We will need some people there. Discrete, that’s the word.”
“Back again are we?” It was Vincent, standing behind him and grinning maliciously. “Leant the lesson about shutting your mouth yet?”
Jim turned slowly and grinned back, prompting Vincent to frown and shake his head in resignation. “You’re one of these people that never learn from their mistakes,” he realised.
“‘Fraid so…”
Vincent grabbed him at the shoulder and dragged across the common room to the entrance at the other side. “I am surprised to find you still alive.”
“You’re not the only one,” Jim said with all honesty. “The king finds me… interesting.”
“I was thinking of another word to describe you,” Vincent mused, “…but if His Majesty says ‘interesting’…”
It was quiet in the common area, no practice and no eating was being undertaken. There were men there, but they were talking amongst themselves or resting - some were going about their duties as guards, coming and going. Jim was led through to the other side, to a doorway and passage he knew well.
The grate door was opened to allow him admittance to the cell he shared with his friends. It was late, he had seen the time on his wristwatch when he found himself in light minutes ago, and his belly was telling him he had missed his supper.
He turned quickly before Vincent disappeared again into the dark corridor. “I’ve missed dinner,” he pointed out to the lieutenant. “Any chance of something…”
“I’ll see what I can do.” And he was gone.
Jim turned back to his friends - they seemed a little shocked to see him. “That was fun.”
“Are you serious?” Sammy exclaimed, crossing the room and almost attacking him. “Fun? Do you realise the situation you put us in by your little stunt?”
Jim tried to look innocent.
“Have a look around,” Sammy asked him. “Where are we, Jim?”
Looking first to the roof, to either side and then over his shoulder. He spied the bars and was prompted to reply with mock uncertainty: “Eh… jail?”
“Yes,” Sammy spat, “…jail. More than that, this is death row. Why do you go out of your way to antagonise these people? We thought we were all dead, we thought you were dead. Then we heard the singing.”
He shrugged. “I had to do something to fill in the time.”
The big man pointed back to the only other occupant of their lodging. “You started Lewis singing too,” he complained. “Neither of you can hold a tune to save your lives.”
“Thanks…” Lewis replied blandly.
“I thought we were going to discuss things before we did anything,” Sammy said, going back to the place where he always sat, at one end of the only bunk in the room. 
The grate rattled as it was unlocked and Vincent’s face appeared at the bars. “Jim…” he said, sliding a meal through a space at the bottom of the bars to their cell.
“Ah, here’s my dinner,” Jim said, adding: “Thanks Vincent.”
There was a snort from Sammy’s corner. Jim did not waste time on permission, he took the tray and sat on his bed and started his supper. In between mouthfuls he continued the conversation.
“So what exactly is the problem? Are you put out because I spoke up without asking you first, or that I bought us some more time when you couldn’t?”
“Excuse me?” the big man gasped.
“The king himself came and visited me,” Jim told them smugly. “It turns out he’s bored and has been for a long time. He plans to keep us around as long as we’re interesting. And I got an invite to the palace – well, sort of. He’ll call us in when he wants us. That looks like being a good opportunity to give him that book of yours, doesn’t it?”
Sammy frowned. “He’s not keeping us alive just because you’re keeping him entertained,” he pointed out.
Jim nodded. “There’ve been some developments: the ambassador has arrived and it appears the fleet we saw at the Interchange isn’t part of his retinue after all. The king’s starting to think he’s being fed bogus information and he’s been asking my opinion on it all. We may well be knee deep in intrigue here.”
Taking his last mouthful, Jim laid back against the wall. “That’s better,” he sighed. “They gave me nothing but bread and water in there.”
“What do we do now?” Lewis asked.
“We wait until something happens. I have the feeling that something will turn up – and soon.”

***

Tobias held a residence a short distance from the council chambers in order for him to stay in comfort when he resided in the city. It was by no means as opulent as the other judges’ houses - it only sufficed for his basic needs and those of his servants. Only two people lived there currently, Tobias himself and Ryan, who was out in the city on a mission. The judge was growing impatient. Things were moving ahead at a rapid pace and the window of opportunity for him to act was closing. The next part of his plans depended upon Ryan and the other judge he had travelled with from Watchers.
Avolio headed into a spiral of destruction the moment they arrived at the city weeks ago and Tobias had been the cause of it. It was true that Avolio’s wife had been seeing Spelg, this was common knowledge, and it was also true that Spelg was part of The Flame. It was also likely that he was the head. Armed with that knowledge Tobias hoped Avolio would end the faction for good, severing the head neatly from its body and leaving Tobias completely unconnected. Avolio had disappeared, probably down the neck of a bottle, and Ryan had gone out to find him.
Of all the servants that had worked for him, Ryan was the best. If anyone could find the drunken judge and arrange what was needed thereafter, it was Ryan. The day was almost over when the spy returned, a grim expression evident on his face. “It’s done,” he announced.
Tobias gave him a wicked smile. “Excellent.”
“Avolio did precisely what you expected of him.”
“Then Spelg is dead?”
“As a doornail.” Ryan returned his gaze speculatively, unsure of the next part of the plan. “We’re just setting Avolio free after this?” he asked. “They’ll kill him when they find him.”
“He has exhausted his usefulness. Cut him loose.” Tobias’s coldness surprised even himself.
Ryan was shaking his head. “I don’t understand any of this. Did the council want them both dead?”
“The council’s agenda and mine coincide… for now. The death of Spelg was necessary and Avolio was just a means to an end. The council is prepared to sacrifice both of them to achieve their goals.”
He dismissed his servant with a wave and retired to bed. Sleep was elusive - it had been so for many years since he had chosen his path – or rather since his path had chosen him. Lately however it had been more difficult - somewhere inside his soul squirmed from his choices. Somewhere inside, held captive, his conscience cried in agony and would give him no rest.

***

He woke with a start. The pavement was cold and hard. He had been there hours judging by the aching of his limbs. It was still night and the street was dark. Rolling over he found the edge of the gutter and crawled up it, the stones of the edge rubbing into his side. Now he gazed up into the night sky, the stars twinkling above. He laid there for several minutes while his mind struggled to make sense of his surroundings.
Where was he? He did not remember being here, in this place? He was only three streets down from… from Spelg’s house.
He sat up and placed a hand upon his forehead, trying to steady his mind from whirling about in his head, trying to steady his thoughts, trying to remember why he was here, what he had done.
What was that odour? He drew his hand back so he could see the palm. Even in the poor light he could see the blood there.     All over his hand, sticky dark-red, the blood stained his skin. There on the other side, blood covered the whole appendage. 
He started to shake. Was this it own fluids? He felt no pain. He had no injury from which he could have bled. Was it someone else’s?
His shirt, which had been heavily soiled from his weeks of drinking, was soaked in the red liquid as well. It was sticky too, even dry in places. Someone had bled all over him.
Off in the night was the sound of screaming. Someone was screaming murder.  He knew what would come next. Someone would be looking for him. 
He stood unsteadily, supported himself against a wall for a moment and launched off toward the river. He was trying to keep moving quickly, stumbling many times on the uneven surface of the road, trying to keep out of sight as he made for the water’s edge. His feet sank down into the cool sand of the beach, and he crawled, stood, walked, and fell. Finally he reached the dark water, it swirled about his feet. In three steps he was in over his head and the water washed away the evidence of his foul deeds.

Chapter Thirty-One

The audience chamber was less populated the following day when the three men were ushered in, having washed and donned clean clothes prior to leaving the gaol-house. They marched through the poorer quarters of the city as they had done days earlier, surrounded by the guards, dressed and acting as they had before. The wealthy areas offered stares and ridicule which the entire group endured with dignity until safely within the gates of the palace.
Waiting at the front, just steps from the base of the dais, Emily and Daniel stood, flanked the remainder of their friends. It was clear by the expression on Emily’s face that she was less than impressed by Jim’s antics three days prior and was waiting until he was within arm’s length before she commenced to berate him. Lewis edged around the evolving scene, heading for Daniel and Amelia. His friend remained pale but was standing unaided, holding his side gingerly.
“You’re looking better,” Lewis observed.
Daniel nodded. “Thank you.”
“I don’t want you well too soon,” Amelia interjected. “Prison is no place for you yet.”
Boyes stepped between Emily and Jim. She continued to chide him for his behaviour and he didn’t answer back, he just nodded in agreement. They were too absorbed in their issues to notice a door at the front of the hall open and admit officials. Boyes quickly called them to silence, bowing to the new arrivals and gesturing to the others to follow suit.
Lewis knew none of these people, but he expected that they came to decide his fate. Not sharing Jim’s boldness, Lewis stood quietly and watched them walk the red carpet to the front of the hall.
Leading the way was a short man dressed in grey robes. His hair matched his dress and it was swept back into a tail that ran down his back. He was old, not so old that he had lost the spring in his step or a devious twinkle in his eye, but old enough for his hair to be silver white and his face to be wrinkled with use. He looked over them all, pausing to view the tall ones, who stood out obviously against the others. Lewis reflexively stooped just a little to hide his stature and to blend in. 
The old man sighed and addressed the lieutenant: “Is this all of them? They don’t look as impressive as the rumours say.”
“They are all present, Lord Vamedja,” Vincent told him. “The judges are on their way I believe.”
“Excellent. Which one of you people will be speaking to the hearing?”
Emily stepped forward. Lewis suspected she no longer trusted Jim to act sensibly on their behalf. Her look of determination silenced any objection Jim may have raised. “I will,” she declared.
He looked up at her scornfully. “You may address me as Lord Vamedja or as Excellency,” he instructed coldly.
Emily bowed in reverence. “Yes, Your Excellency.”
There was a noise behind them and Vamedja turned. “Ah…” he said, “…here they are.”
At the rear of the hall the huge doors opened, permitting another group to approach. Lewis had seen them before – or rather he had seen others like them. They were dressed as he had seen Tobias in on the night they were tried. He had also seen the Chief Justice of Trade Town dressed in the same way. The judges had arrived.
“Excellency,” the first of them began, “We must apologise for the delay. We were detained. As you know there has been a tragedy and the judiciary is in an uproar.”
The judges passed the convicted, joining the officials at the edge of the dais. Tobias was amongst them, his face fixed and unreadable. Lewis has spoken to him over three weeks ago and was hoping he had changed his mind about them. If he had, he gave no indication. 
“I have heard the news, Anzellotti,” Vamedja replied. “Have there been any developments?”
“One of our numbers has vanished,” the judge advised him. “We are suspecting that he may have met a similar fate as Spelg. We will track down the perpetrator, I promise you that.”
Lewis leant over to Amelia and whispered in her ear. “What are they talking about?” he asked, but she did not reply, putting her finger to her lips. Her face was drawn and her eyes began to tear.
“Whatever my department can offer you…” Vamedja began.
“Thank you, Excellency, but I think we would prefer to pursue this ourselves. This is a matter of honour.”
“Shall we get down to business?” Vamedja asked, changing the subject. “His Majesty will be along presently and I was hoping to review this case prior to his arrival.”
“Certainly,” the judge agreed, waving forward one of his rank, one Lewis knew. “Tobias,” he called, “…step forward.”
Tobias moved to the front and bowed before Lord Vamedja. He turned his face briefly toward Lewis and the others before speaking. “Your Excellency, these individuals you see before you have been found guilty by myself and His Honour Avolio of the crime of murder. Prior to their arrest…”
“Just a moment Your Honour,” Vamedja interrupted, asking: “Where is Avolio?”
The one they called Anzellotti stepped forward to explain. “Avolio is the one who has disappeared, Excellency. He hasn’t been seen for several days.”
Vamedja frowned. “We can hardly present this case to His Majesty without all of the prosecution present,” he said, irritated. “This is a setback.” 
“We are attempting to locate him even now.”
“If I may, Excellency,” Tobias interjected. “I am prepared to speak to His Majesty on this case. Avolio is not entirely necessary. I am sure we can come to some arrangement.”
Vamedja seemed to accept the suggestion. “And the defence?” he asked, looking to Emily. “Are you prepared to respond to the conviction?”
“Yes, we are, Your Excellency,” she began. “You see…”
Vamedja cut her off - she stood with her mouth open, her last words hanging in the air. “You will have ample time to respond,” he told her.
Without warning a loud clap resounded through the chamber and they all turned around. He stood at the top of the stairs rubbing his hand together. “So, how are we all this morning?” he asked them all.
The local members of the gathering immediately adopted a reverent posture, as did Jim, and those who were unaware of the new arrival’s status followed suit seconds later. Lewis bowed his head, looking at the floor, then raised it again slightly so to regard the one he had seen days ago sitting on a throne.
It was Jim who walked through the crowd, holding out his hand to the one walking down the stairs to the group. “Your Majesty,” he said boldly, “…good morning.”
They shook hands and the newly introduced king smiled warmly at Jim and then the others. Lewis noticed immediately that the king stood as tall as his friend, they were also similar in stature and appearance, though His Majesty was better dressed.
Vamedja was only steps away, seeking to separate the king and the prisoner. He could not form his words - all he could do is splutter. The king held out a reassuring hand.
“It is all right, Vamedja. Jim and I know each other. I am sure he promises to behave.”
Jim grinned wickedly. “I have been threatened extensively this morning about that very thing.”
“You see,” His Majesty told his underling, mimicking Jim’s flippant expression.
“Your Majesty, could I introduce my friends?” Jim asked, directing with his hand the line of them waiting.
There was a great deal of bowing involved in introductions, even more so when one meets a king. Lewis was unaccustomed to such honours but had learnt to keep his mouth firmly shut in situations such as these. The judges and officials did not speak either but for totally different reasons. They either had no words to describe how they felt about the scenario evolving before their eyes or were shocked into silence. Either way, Lewis suspected they had to be content in the fact control of this meeting had passed from them into Jim’s hands.
The king looked to the collection of judges and dismissed them. “I think you people have much more important business to attend to,” he told them by way of explanation. “I hope you find the hideous individual who murdered that poor man - and soon. Please keep me informed on the progress of the investigation.”
“Of course, Your Majesty.” Anzellotti waved his colleagues back to the doorway. The judges were not done with this matter but had no choice.
Tobias remained. “Excuse me, You Majesty,” he began, perhaps out of his place. “Speaking for the defence, I should be present when you talk with the convicted.”
“I would prefer to speak to you alone at a later time,” the king said, dismissing his request. “You will have your chance.”
Tobias bowed and then turned. He found himself alone, the procession of judges was already moving through the doorway at the end of the room. He followed them quickly and was last through the door, pausing briefly to look back before the doors were shut loudly behind him. Of the original inquisitors, only His Excellency, and those that assistant him, remained.
“I was hoping to talk to you all in less formal circumstances,” His Majesty explained. “Apparently you have asked me to hear the appeal against your conviction, so I suppose I’d better hear it. Would you all come through?” He directed them up the stairs to the dais. 
Vamedja spoke. He had somehow regained his voice and it was tense with a hint of nervousness and anger. “You Majesty, if I could have just a moment…”
The king sighed. “Very well, Vamedja.”
He motioned his subordinate to his side where they effected an animated and secretive conversation. His Excellency was not impressed with the way things were progressing and was protesting to his king with enthusiasm. The king would get his way, as kings do, and they were ushered up the steps to the top of the platform and through a doorway to the private rooms beyond.

The hours that followed were long and tedious and Lewis lost interest in the proceedings quickly. The rear section of the palace was divided further into two. The first area, where they were now located, housed the more private audience chamber. Two doors joined the audience room to the personal suites of the royal family and they were guarded by two of Vincent’s underlings.
Lewis took the opportunity of a lull in the conversation to stand, stretch his legs and look about the room. Behind him the discussions resumed without his involvement. 
The room was large, expensively furnished and carpeted. Large windows looked out over the grounds, which lay two stories down. A circle of chairs sat in the middle of the room, and the participants sat upon them.
The king was asking questions, in fact he was getting straight to the issue at hand, and moreover, he wanted to know everything about them. Emily did the talking and she held nothing back. She told him the whole story and the king listened intently, his face unreadable. By morning refreshments the story had been told. There it was out in the open, their lives laid out and their futures in his hands.
When they were done, the king called out his captain and Prime Minister into another room, leaving them under the watchful eye of Lieutenant Vincent. Without the scrutiny that they had been under for the last few hours, all of them sighed with relief.
Jim called them all over to the window, now he wasn’t in the presence of the king his pretence of pleasantness had dissolved. Vincent stayed by the doorway, his back against the wall and waiting patiently.
“You all heard what they said about Avolio?” Jim asked, adding: “I’m worried.”
“Do you think he’s been killed like that other man?” Emily asked.
It was Sammy that answered - his face grim like death. “He hasn’t been killed.” He dropped his voice down so that only those in the centre could hear him. “I think he killed the other man – the one they call Spelg. Avolio is in hiding right now.”
“You know something?” she asked.
Sammy nodded. “When we were coming here, at that inn, I heard Tobias and Avolio talking. Tobias suggested that Avolio’s wife was involved with this man. They were talking about getting rid of him and now he’s dead.”
“I can’t imagine Avolio murdering anyone,” Emily said, shocked.
“We’ve all seen him in action,” Jim disagreed. “He’s capable. How come you’re telling us now, Sam?”
“I didn’t think it had anything to do with us. Its local politics and you said we should stay out of those things. I honestly didn’t think it was relevant.”
“I suppose it still may not be,” Jim conceded. “The only problem I can see is that Avolio seemed to be a little on our side and now he’s not around. The king is only going to hear Tobias’s side.”
Lewis usually kept silent in these instances but he had made some progress with the judge and wanted to offer some hope. “That might not be so bad,” he said quietly. 
“I wouldn’t count on him changing his mind,” Sammy replied sourly.
Emily turned around when she heard a door being opened. “They’re back,” she said.
The king, his Prime Minister and captain returned after their discussions outside the room. All three men offered nothing of their decision by the expressions on their faces.
“His Majesty has considered carefully what you have told him,” Vamedja began, somewhat formally, “but further details need to be discussed with the prosecution. His Majesty will decide on this matter at a later date pending further enquiry. He has requested…” (There was a slight pause there as the Prime Minister briefly made a face. Lewis wondered if he did not entirely agree with what was said next) “…that you remain here, as guests of His Majesty, so that you may be on hand for any further questions. The injured young man appears to have recovered enough to join the others. He will continue to have access to the surgeons as needed.”

***

The palace had many rooms, mostly unoccupied, spread over three floors and in two wings. After the announcement by the Prime Minister they were led down an adjoining corridor to a flight of steps at the end. The passage was wide, at least ten metres across with glass display cases along the walls.
The king had left them, in the care of Vamedja who strode resolutely ahead. They followed in procession behind him and Jim walked with Vincent in the middle of the line. Something caught his eye as he passed one of the cases. There in one of the shelves sat a pistol, an early twenty first century weapon, in excellent condition. Jim stopped.
“Does that still work?” he asked the lieutenant, pointing to the encased handgun.
“The ancient weapon?” Vincent shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Jim rubbed his chin, looking closer in the case for ammunition, but was called along after the others. He paid closer attention to the contents of the hall now. There were relics of the past here, possibly all of them useless except for decoration.
To the right another hall ran down towards another wing. Along the walls paintings were hung. Jim stopped to look quickly at one or two of them but was prevented by the Lieutenant, being pulled unceremoniously along.
Already the others had disappeared to the floor below via the stairs at the end of the hall. Jim followed them down and along to the middle of a long hall. Standing there the group were being directed to individual suites. Jim, having arrived last was given the final room, and was stopped before he entered by the Prime Minister.
“I know you’re really the leader,” Vamedja told him, losing his officious tone. “That young woman couldn’t have led you this far so I’m going to tell you. I don’t agree with you being here. I think you should remain in the prison but it’s not up to me.
“You are being watched,” he sneered. “Everything you do I shall find out about. Every time you look over your shoulder I will be there.”

***

Tobias knew the time was late but it was necessary for him to be there. Vamedja was awake - his duties often meant he was up in the small hours of the night and Tobias found him at his desk. Vamedja was expecting him, he told him what he needed to know then directed him to the second floor and to a door amongst many.
He knocked quietly, hoping not to wake the occupants of the other rooms, and then a second time when there was no response from the first. Inside there was movement, then a groan, and the door swung open, with darkness behind. The young man who approached him on the boat stood at the door in his undergarments, staring bleary eyed at the judge.
“Tobias?” he grunted.
“Can I come in?” the judge whispered.
Lewis moved aside and allowed him entrance, then turned his lamp up from a soft glow to a light that banished the darkness.
“Is everything alright?” Lewis asked him. “Have you found Avolio?”
Tobias shook his head sadly. “Avolio is still missing.” He changed the subject. “I had to speak to you.”
Lewis sat on the bed and rubbed his eyes. Tobias continued quickly, hoping to be out in only a few minutes, undiscovered by the others in the young man’s group.
“I spoke to the king,” Tobias said. “I told him that you may not have done what you were convicted of. I couldn’t drop the charges but that was the best I could do.”
“Thanks,” said Lewis with obvious gratitude. “The others don’t trust you.”
“Do you? Do you trust me?”
Lewis looked at his earnestly. “I can see you really want to help.”
“I do. I’m the reason you’re here and I want to make amends.”
“You didn’t need to come here at this hour to tell me this.”
“No,” Tobias said, his face showing concern. “You’re in more trouble and you don’t know it yet.”
“More trouble?”
“I want to help you again,” the judge said quietly, “…or rather one of your friends. When we were travelling together I saw the one you call Sammy carrying a book. If that book was to be found by an official, then he would be immediately executed.”
Lewis gasped, “For carrying a book?”
“It’s what’s in it that matters. The contents are extremely sensitive and the law is very clear on this. For the last two centuries the judges have eradicated all copies of books such as this. Your friend is in some serious trouble.”
Lewis looked worried. He had been convinced. “But what can I do?”
“I can’t just come in and take it, nor can I approach him, he doesn’t trust me, but you could get it.”
“What does it look like?” the young man asked, nodding.
“Black, leather bound.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” he promised.
“I wouldn’t tell the others,” Tobias warned, “they wouldn’t understand.”
When the door was silently closed behind him, the judge leant against the door and smiled to himself. Time was running out, but now he had another ally, someone who was close enough to achieve the necessary goal. 

***

Breakfast came automatically. It was of a better standard than that of the prison, and it was well received. Vincent came knocking on all of their doors after the trays had been removed and taken back to the kitchen. The king was calling for them.
Amelia arrived soon after, along with her husband, to look over Daniel’s convalescence. She looked drawn like she had not slept the night before, but would not talk about it.
Once his dressings had been attended, Amelia decided he needed further rest and he was excused. Lewis remained also, feeling unwell. After seeing both of the young men, Amelia joined the others and they were led back up the stairs and to the private audience chamber where they had spent the day earlier. 
The king was there along with others Sammy had not yet met - he assumed they were his family. His queen was not tall - she was the same height as the usual natives and this was obvious even as she sat on one of the ornate chairs to one of the sides of the room. Seated to her left, there was a young man of about fifteen and as tall as the king, regarding the activity about him. To her right sat a woman, perhaps eighteen in age, her eyes fixed in odd directions and her face turning this way and that. She twitched oddly from time to time and talked quietly to herself. No one seemed to pay her any mind.
Vamedja and his assistants stood with the king, deep in discussion, only broken when Sammy and his friends entered the room. The Prime Minister gave them all a sour look and returned to his arrangements whilst the king approached them happily.
“Good morning,” he greeted them pleasantly.
After they all bowed to him respectfully and he directed them to the seated three. “I would like to introduce you to my family,” he told them.
Queen Meleah acknowledged them regally and her son, Matthew (named, no doubt, after his father), did likewise. The princes Kyra did not seem to know or care that they were there. 
After the introductions the king excused himself and returned to whatever was taking up his attention earlier.
“He has a party to organise,” the queen explained.
“Ah,” Jim replied. He’d heard the king mention it to the captain. “Will that be here,” he asked, “…in the palace?” 
“Yes,” she said, and then after a moment a wicked expression came over her face and she added: “You must come.”
“We’d be delighted, but I’m sure we wouldn’t be entirely welcome.”
“Nonsense,” she disagreed. “I’m inviting you.”
“We don’t have the right dress for such an occasion.”
She smiled - pleased with herself over something she was not going to elaborate on. “I will talk to Vamedja. I’m sure he can come up with something.”
“I am sure he’ll love that,” Jim said absently, forgetting who he was talking to.
The queen smiled knowingly then turned and whispered something to her son. A moment later she stood and went through a pair of doors to her private suites.
Sammy had been standing there, half listening to the conversation, and half wrestling with something in his mind. In his hand, buried in his pocket, he held a small, black, leather bound book. He looked about the room - it was as he dreamed it except for the extras he had not seen: the Prime Minister and his people, and another he had not noticed, the judge who had addressed the king yesterday. Vamedja had called him Anzellotti.
The edges of his nocturnal vision had been hazy at best. Perhaps they had been there, he just couldn’t see them.
He had pulled his hand out with the book resting in it when the princess spoke aloud. He almost dropped it, jumping at the suddenness of the outburst. The others next to him turned to stare to the originator of the sound.
She was yelling, but there were no identifiable words that emanated from her lips – it was a cacophony of sound, a mash of noises. All the while her eyes darted about chaotically - regardless it was clear by their appearance that she was incapable of sight.
“Don’t pay her any attention,” the young prince advised. “She cannot see anything. She is just rambling as she always does.”
She continued for a short time, and then started to become further distressed, rocking in her chair.
“Is she alright?” Jim asked the prince.
At the sound of his voice she turned her head in his direction and her eyes widened in response, and for a moment – just a moment – it seemed that she could actually see him, understand him. All the while she continued to vocalise as she had been doing.
Then as suddenly as it had begun, it stopped and she resumed her original state.
“That was strange,” Emily muttered.
“She does that from time to time,” Matthew told her. “Don’t be alarmed.”
“Why is she like this?”
He sighed. “She’s been that was from the day she was born. ‘Birth trauma’ the healer called it.”
The king has heard the uproar and came to his daughters side. With a calm and reassuring hand he steadied her, drawing her back into a peaceful state. Leaning down his kissed her head and spoke quietly to her distress.
With the king in close proximity, Sammy decided to take the opportunity presented to him. With the book in his hand, Sammy took a step forward.
“Your Majesty,” he said, catching the king’s attention. “I have something for you: a gift.”
The king looked up from his daughter. “A gift?”
“This is the most valuable thing in the entire world,” Sammy explained. “It holds immense power and wisdom, it can save lives - it can tell you where you came from and where you are going.”
“Is this a riddle?”
“No Your Majesty,” Sammy declared, shaking his head. “There is no mystery, no riddle. It is all here.”
Holding out his hand the book sat in his palm and he offered it to the king.
“It’s a book.” His Majesty had obviously seen one before - he was probably one of the few in this land.
“It’s not just a book, Majesty. It is more than that.”
The king took it, opening the cover and flicking through the pages, his face creased in confusion. “I can’t read it,” he said with disappointment in his voice.
“It is in an old language called ‘English’,” Sammy explained. “My friends and I speak it, as do the judges. Only a small amount of people would be able to understand it. I will teach you if you’re willing.”
“Thank you, Sammy.” He leafed through it, muttering to himself. “Interesting…”
The moment passed without fanfare. Sammy had dreamed this event the very day he arrived in this world, and it was there and gone in the blink of an eye. It was something of eternal significance, overlooked like it was commonplace.

***

Avolio had disappeared for two days before resurfacing at Tobias’s door late at night. He had been drinking and had not washed for several days - he had not been caring for himself at all. He was not drunk enough to dull the emotional distress that he felt, which was evidenced in his interchanging sorrow and anger.
Tobias had pulled him into his room, looking in the passage outside afterwards to see that no one had noticed the distressed judge’s arrival. He closed and locked the door.
“Did anyone see you?” Tobias demanded.
“I don’t care if they did.”
“I care. There are people out looking for you.”
“Let them find me,” Avolio declared. “I’ll tell them I did it.”
“Don’t be stupid! They think you are a victim too and we’re going to let them keep right on thinking that.”
Avolio started to sob. “You’ve got to help me.”
“Of course I’ll help you,” Tobias promised, directing his colleague to the lounge. “Sit here,” he offered.
The lounge offered a convenient and soft place for the inebriated judge to land.
“I will help you but you must not do anything rash. You mustn’t tell anyone about what has happened. You’re a victim, you understand?”
“I am a monster,” Avolio slurred his disagreement. “I killed him. You should have seen the blood. It was all over me: on my hands, on my shirt, all over. That was his blood. He didn’t deserve me to do that to him.”
Avolio started to sob again, this time uncontrollably and his whole body started to shake with revulsion and grief. Tobias handed him a bottle, the cork already removed, and Avolio took it – the first step towards liquid oblivion.

It was a night for visitors. Avolio slept on the lounge, his legs hanging over the edge of one side and loud noises emanating from his mouth in a slow rhythm. He was not disturbed by the knocking at Tobias’s door.
“Anzellotti, it is late,” Tobias told his second visitor of the night.
“I am aware of that, Your Honour.” The Chief Justice looked down at Avolio. “You found him.”
“He came to me.”
“You’d better keep him out of sight.”
“I will.” Tobias looked at his superior irritably, seeking to get to the issue of the visit. “What is it?” he asked.
“You weren’t at the palace today?”
“No. I was here.”
“Well, I was there,” Anzellotti told him. “It seems your friends have moved in.”
“My friends? Moved in where?”
“The palace, Tobias. I blame you for this state of affairs. We are so close and then you bring these people here. They’re not stupid. They’re piecing together the parts of the puzzle we’ve built. They see what is happening and they’re quite happy to tell the king about it. If everything falls apart then I shall come after you.”
“I am working on it,” Tobias told him irritably.
“Not fast enough, Tobias. What about the subversive literature you mentioned? That man Sammy no longer has it.”
Tobias frowned. “Are you sure?”
“I saw the book myself. The king has it now, Sammy handed it right to him. It is beyond your grasp,” Anzellotti told him with poorly contained glee. He seemed to enjoy his subordinate being in difficulty.
Tobias cursed under his breath. He was too late. His new friend on the inside was not quick enough to steal the book and now it was out of his reach. There was still one redeeming factor.
“I’ve seen exerts from it. No one can read it. We’ll wait until the king has been secured, then we will take it off him.”
“I’ve news for you, Tobias,” the Chief Justice countered, “…not only can your friends read it but they know we can too. This is a worse situation than we could have ever expected. These people may have been able to hear everything we have said to each other in the palace. There may be others who can understand us as well. Our plans are rapidly becoming compromised. Now, what are you going to do about it?”
“I’ll think of something.”
“They’ll need to be removed. I don’t care how,” Anzellotti instructed.
“They will be. When I told you I knew the identity of the leader of the Flame and that his removal would be neigh impossible you were not interested in details. You ordered the dismemberment of the Flame and it was done. Spelg is gone, and they will be likewise.”
Anzellotti looked over at Avolio’s stuporous form. His snoring had abated, replaced by deep and regular breathing. “Can he hear us?” he asked.
“Not with the amount he put away,” Tobias replied confidently.
“You are going to have to put on a mighty dance to pull it off. It will not be as easy as manipulating Avolio here.”
Tobias looked down at the other judge contemptuously. “Avolio is not stupid, but he does have passion. Passion is easier to influence than reason.”
“When are you going to connect him with Spelg’s death?”
“Soon - after the treaty is signed. The commotion will distract from what is really going on. The king will be too busy to notice our army advancing on the city. We will have control when the Villers arrive. Then we will be able to hand over the king and his gold and the city will be ours to control.”
“Unless someone notices what we are doing – and tells him,” The Chief Justice suggested. 
The door shut suddenly, surprising the two judges. Tobias turned to find the lounge vacant. He ran to the opening and looked out into the corridor, expecting to see Avolio struggling to escape, but he was gone, quicker than expected, off into the evening. 
Tobias cursed again. How much had Avolio heard? How much had he learned? Who was he going to talk to about it?

Chapter Thirty-Two

Lewis had no visitors the following night, at least none that were real. He was visited by the judge Tobias, but this time in a dream. It was a repeat of the dream he had earlier - where he steps in and foils a murder, with blood on his hands and Tobias slapping him on his back, congratulating him.
He awoke with a start, climbed out of his bed and placed his feet onto the cold, stone floor, rubbing his eyes. 
What time was it? 
He had no watch and hence had no way of knowing. As his mind cleared from sleep he mused over the dream. Tobias had been helping them, secretly working in their favour. He had spoke well of them to the king, and this was no doubt why the monarch had been treating them so well - giving them warm, comfortable rooms and good food. 
The others couldn’t see it. Sammy in particular, who seemed so understanding and so forgiving, was particularly biased against the judge. The man wouldn’t explain himself either. What did he have against the judge?
Lewis trusted Tobias, in part because of current events, and in part because of his dreams. Did he misinterpret? Did the dream really mean what he thought it did? Sammy talked about his dream, how events would fall into place, how they would be all right despite everything going against them. 
His dream came true. 
Lewis had a dream, he had a part to play in all of this, an important part, and his dream would come true. He would show the others he was right, right in going to the judge in the first place, right in putting his trust in the man. He would show them that he was not a minor player in everything that was going on.
He would show them.

***

There was no call to the Audience room that day. The king did not want them, he was busy. The culmination of years of work was occurring and he was persuaded to keep random elements from the proceedings. The common room on their floor had been made available to them, as indeed the entire level. They were not permitted elsewhere and Vincent was charged to ensure they complied.
 On the floor above, the lieutenant had told them, the officials and court of the city were gathering. The large Audience Chamber would now be filled to overflowing, waiting for the arrival of the Villers ambassador Kammat, and his retinue. Waiting on a table next to the king’s throne was the treaty, as yet unsigned.
The execution of such a task, the signing of a single document, should have effectively taken moments to complete, but in reality rarely did. The complexities of protocol dictated that the process would take the better part of the morning. A lunch would be held in the Dining Hall and then there would be further discussions. The group would be ignored for the entire day.
Jim relished the opportunity to relax, away from the scrutiny of both friend and foe.
Amelia returned that morning to look over both Daniel and Lewis. Both young men were doing well, Daniel’s wounds were healing well and Lewis showed no sign of the illness that had struck him suddenly the day before. She seemed in better spirits but also seemed to not be herself. Boyes escorted her over from the College and he was worried about her.
“Is she all right?” Jim asked him, the expression on his face mirroring that of the elder.
Boyes sighed. “The death of the judge, Spelg, shook things up at the College,” he explained. “Kara seems very upset and I guess Amelia feels for her. I don’t know what the connection is between the judge and the College but it seems fairly strong. It’s unusual for a judge to involve himself elsewhere. They seem somewhat…” He struggled for the word. “…eh…self involved most of the time.”
“I’ve noticed that. Do they know about Avolio?”
“They suspect he’s to blame for Spelg’s death.”
“Sammy told me the same thing,” Jim said. “We won’t know for sure until they find him. I think Tobias is involved. Sammy heard them talking when we were coming over here. Tobias was talking Avolio into getting rid of Spelg. Tobias seems to have something over him, some secret or something.”
“That puts it into perspective,” the elder mused. “That judge seems to have been a thorn in our side all along. What are we going to do about this?”
“I don’t know if there is anything we can do. I was hoping Avolio would stand up for us at the hearing, but now he’s nowhere to be found. I think it will work out though.” Jim had spotted Vincent arriving through the entrance to the common room. “Excuse me,” he begged the elder politely, “I’ve just remembered something.”
Vincent had been gone for a few hours and returned. He was without the ridiculous ceremonial dress he was forced to wear in the palace, discarding it for more practical attire. Usually he would carry an ineffectual weapon in keeping with the remainder of his dress but he had replaced it with a more functional blade. Jim was positive he knew how to use it after seeing the guards train in secret.
Standing only a few steps away, Jim waited for the Lieutenant to turn his head in Jim’s direction. He offered a smile and a nod and received a grunt in return.
“Am I interrupting something?” Jim asked him with just a hint of sarcasm.
Vincent turned his face back to the centre of the room, obviously planning to ignore, but Jim would not be deterred.
“I know today is very important to you all and I’ve been a bit of a pain in the arse since I got here. I wanted to say I won’t wreck things for you, I only want to help.”
“I am not the one you should be saying this to,” the lieutenant grunted.
“I’ve been straight with you from the start, haven’t I?”
“I have no idea what you mean.”
“I’ve told you the truth. I’ve been straight with you, right?” Jim clarified.
“As far as I know,” the officer conceded begrudgingly.
“I think that earns me just a little trust.”
Vincent turned his head and regarded his captive closely. Seconds later he deduced where the conversation was going and narrowed his eyes. “I think you are about to ask me for another favour.”
Jim jumped straight to his request. “I was wondering if you could train me to use a sword.”
“What!” Vincent exclaimed, turning to face him suddenly. “Are you mad? You’re a convicted murderer. Teach you? What’s to say you’re not an assassin waiting for your chance?”
“I’d hardly by much of an assassin if I needed on the job training, don’t you think?” Jim had seen them at work, and he knew he had a carrot to dangle “You guys do hand to hand, don’t you? I was watching the other day. You’re good, but there are some holes in your training. I could help you with that.”
The officer considered it, but remained sceptical. “Why do you want to learn?” he asked.
“On the way here we were set upon - Daniel was injured as you know and I was pretty useless. I think it’s something that might come in handy and the way things are going I’ll never know when I’ll need it.”
Vincent sighed with resignation. “I’ll talk to the Captain,” he decided, “but I’d prepare myself to be disappointed.”

***

Joanna was impatient, Mitchell could see that. It had been weeks since Laydon had departed, trekking across the plain and back to the village. He had not returned as he had promised. Her husband was gone, having died almost a year ago somewhere out on the plain. Daniel too, his fate unknown, was off to the city with the newcomers. She was alone. Sure, she was around people – the tall soldiers were a strange group - but they were not the same as her own. She was feeling isolated.
She had wanted to leave, had ever set off several times, only to be brought back by Mitchell and his friends. It was too dangerous, he told her. She had to wait for the elders return. Now Laydon was overdue.
In the past month the population of the Installation had increased to nine. The week following the elder’s departure a savage storm moved over the plain, something that was unusual that time of the year. Rain fell in sheets and lightning flashed menacingly in the sky. Traces of power surged from the heavens, striking the tower above and causing the lights around them to flicker. Thereafter Mitchell headed down the narrow staircase and was absent for four days, returned with seven others just like himself. They were tall and sickly and they rested for another four days – then, over a week, commenced to convert the dismal surroundings of the Installation into something halfway habitable.
The room that Mitchell and Joanna had used for over a month had been cleaned. Cots had been brought up from lower levels, as had some basic furniture. The only facilities lacking were a kitchen and toilets, and they were only days away from being activated, although they were found three levels down. Mitchell had grander plans, those that involved many, many more workers and more facilities but for the moment he had to be content with small improvements. What he did have at his disposal, was time.
She found him at the observation deck above the entrance door, talking to one of his men. It was close to lunch and the sun could be seen high in the vast expanse of blue overhead through the age worn impenetrable glass that featured along one wall, giving a wide view of the plain below. He had been waiting - his scouts had been out two days, watching Delvore’s men as they watched the plain.
“It has been weeks Mitchell,” she complained in the local tongue. “You said you would go out after him.”
“Yes, I did.”
“I don’t see you doing it.”
“I told you it’s too dangerous for you to go back. It’s just as dangerous for us. Things have to be prepared. That takes time.” 
“Jim would have gone and got him by now,” she accused him.
“Jim’s not here and we have to assume he’s not coming back. We have to assume none of them are and that includes your friend too.”
“I’m not giving up on him,” she told him angrily. “You aren’t either – you promised.”
“Yes, I did promise. And I’m going to follow through with it, but you need to leave me to get on with doing my job.”
Ed, one of the new arrivals, one who had proved himself an able second in command, stood in Mitchell’s peripheral vision and coughed politely. When he had the officer’s attention, he gave the news in English. “Sir, they’re back.”
They had been looking over the horizon with the scope, searching for the return of the two scouts, and while Mitchell had been distracted, the soldier had kept looking. Now he was pointing out onto the plain.
“Excuse me,” Mitchell said politely, leaving her for the impending arrival of his team. He knew he left her as frustrated as before, but that could not be helped. This was all to help her and it had to be done.
Ed had not had time to learn ‘local’, the name the soldiers had called the language she spoke, as had none of the others. Mitchell was forced to be translator, though he suspected she was picking up English quicker than she was letting on. The two departed down the stairs leaving her behind. 
Out on the plain the midday sun heated the air so hot that you would be lead to believe it was summer. Almost invisible in the shimmering air a single plume of dust rose, making its way along the road that had been cleared the week before.
The road ran from the river all the way to the Installation, cutting its way through the spiny, squat bushes that rimmed the hill. It finished at the river itself, having first cut its way through both banks, a ramp leading down and then up the other side, wide enough to accommodate the truck. Further on beyond the river, the scouts had marked a trail that was free of debris but had not made any move towards establishing a formal road.
Ten minutes later they reached the boundary of the bushes and stared up the hill, the sound of the truck could be heard climbing the hill in low gear.
Two of his best men, Craig and Simpson, had spent the night watching Delvore’s observation post. They were professionals and had no difficulty performing their mission in extreme circumstances. Supplies from the stores included cold weather clothing which certainly came in handy in the low temperatures which struck the plain at night. This equipment was heavy and this made their packs bulky and hard to carry over long distances. If they didn’t have the luxury of the truck to ferry them to and from the river crossing, their trek would have been unbearable.
It reached the top of the climb and his two scouts disembarked, dusty and tired but able to manage a formal salutation to their leader.
“Well?” Mitchell asked them impatiently.
“They couldn’t have made it any easier,” Craig, the older of the two, reported. “They’ve set up camp on the edge of the plain and stayed put all night. No patrols, they just stay static. We could slip past them without any trouble.”
“I’d still like to know how things stand in there before we commit to something major,” Ed cautioned.
Mitchell looked over where his scouts had come, thinking. “I know some of the layout of the town but not enough to do the job. We’ll need intelligence about patrols and such.”
“That’ll take three, maybe four days,” Ed advised, turning to Craig, asking: “Any sign of a suitable operations site.”
“Nothing with enough cover,” was the assessment.
“Retrieval could be an issue,” Ed added further. “It’s a good twenty clicks from the bridge to the village. We can’t offer support to any recon team.”
“If we get discovered then we’ll move to the next stage,” Mitchell said. “Twenty clicks will be fine.”
Craig was shaking his head. “We don’t have enough men to secure the village,” he warned.
“We’ll only need enough to take Delvore’s compound and we have that.”
“Couldn’t we just…” Ed began.
Mitchell interrupted his thought. “We’ve been through that,” he said. “If you can get access to the server room and boot up the system then by all means let’s wake up an army. Until then, we make do with what we’ve got, which means we play things smart. Get some sleep,” he told his scouts, “operations briefing at eighteen hundred.”
After a salute they were gone, down the ramp and to bed. Ed looked out over the plain and exhaled deeply though pursed lips. “She’s worried about him, you know?”
“I know.”
“Do you think the delay….?”
“I think he’s most likely already dead,” Mitchell replied sadly. He had liked the old man. “But we’re going to look all the same.”
“I’m concerned that we’re risking our necks for one old guy.” When Mitchell did not reply the second in command sighed. “Where do we start? We’re not sweeping the entire village are we?”
“We’ll start with young Mr. Delvore.” The officer’s sadness had changed to resolve. “If anyone knows what happened to Laydon - it’s that guy.”

***

Despite the fact that they had found some favour with the king, or rather that he found them interesting to have around, life progressed rather slowly. Excluded from many of the activities that occurred in the palace, they were resigned to remaining on the floor they were assigned, including the common room at the end of the hall. There they remained for the morning and where they took their lunch. Sammy reconciled himself to spending the day there. At least they could look out the window at the well tended gardens and lawns.
The grass was greener here. Perhaps it was a different variety to that of the village so far away. The trees were just as tall, but healthier looking, again probably a different species. The view from the window was one of beauty and health but Sammy could not help feeling there was something wrong with this picture. Nothing in this land grew well, and if it did it did not seem to remain that way for long. The power that grew and sustained this world was absent, or at least on holiday.
Jim stood next to him, drawing his attention away from the scene beyond the window. “So, what now?” he asked.
“What?”
“What now?” Jim repeated. “You’ve given His Majesty that book of yours. Now what?”
Sammy frowned. “Are you making fun of me?” he asked suspiciously. Although that smirk that he had seen on the other man’s face in the past was absent, that meant nothing. His time with Jim had taught him that his friend could be deceptively sarcastic. 
 “Would I do that?” Jim asked back to him. 
“Yes, you would,” Sammy answered, his ire rising by the second.
“You’ve got some connection to whomever or whatever is calling the shots here,” Jim explained casually. “I thought you may have got something else, some other direction from beyond.”
Jim waved his hands in a mystical fashion, cementing Sammy’s first impression.
“No, James. I haven’t,” Sammy told him tersely.
“You will let me know if you do.”
“You will be the first...”
Sammy believed that the two of them could have continued on in the same vein for many minutes, and would have done so had they not been interrupted.
“Jim,” Lieutenant Vincent grumbled, “…The Captain wants to see you.”
“Right.” Jim said, somewhat decisively. “Where is he?”
“The watch-house.”
“Okay.” Jim was being uncharacteristically agreeable. “Lead the way.”
Jim departed out through the double doors which led to the remainder of the palace and Sammy thought further on the last conversation. Whilst he had been flippant, Jim had made a valuable point. Sammy did rely on his dream to get him to this place. Now he had nothing to move him on to the next, and this unsettled him.
He continued to stare out into the grounds but his face was now creased into a frown. He no longer regarded the beauty of the view - rather he was far away into the future – to as yet unexperienced problems and obstacles. He had hope before, now all he had was doubt.

***

Jim had stripped down to his undershirt and pants and stood in the centre of the large meeting room. They watched him from all around, the guards, waiting for him to lower his guard, waiting for him to falter. He was battered and bruised, cut and bleeding, but he held his ground. There in front of him stood his opponent. Vincent held the staff resolutely in both hands out in front - the end of the stick was marked with Jim’s blood.
“I told you,” Vincent snorted angrily, “…you cannot lower your weapon – even for a moment. You’ll leave an opening.”
With that he lunged. Jim was ready this time. He had taken a beating but he had also learned his adversary’s moves. The staff was heavy, not quite the same weight as a sword, but heavy enough to weary the arm. Jim blocked the move easily, and the following stroke as well, stepping back out of the way of the third. Vincent smiled.
“Good.” Even though he was commenting favourably, his voice lacked conviction. “Now, what about this…”
A sharp thrust caught the taller man off guard, striking him fair in the chest and sending him reeling backward onto the flagstone floor. The bystanders erupted into cheering.
Barely able to breathe, Jim opened his eyes to find Vincent descending under the assistance of gravity toward Jim’s head, the end if his staff forming the concentration of his energy. Rolling aside hastily, the staff struck bare stone with a smack that stung Jim’s ears.
Up on his feet again, he realised he rose without his weapon and was defenceless. When the thrust came again, he was forced to slip to the side and let it pass, scraping his flank. Vincent pulled his staff back for another attempt but Jim had recovered, dropping to the ground and sweeping the lieutenant’s legs out from under him. This was a move none of them had expected and it gained him some amount of applause from the observers.
The time it took Vincent to find his feet was enough for Jim to recover his staff and attempt an offensive. Vincent was largely unprepared, but after two hastily formed blocks recovered his stance. He began to be forced backward and after several seconds, stepped quickly to his side and disengaged.
Both men stood panting from the exertion.
“You’re holding back,” Vincent accused, gasping. “You can’t do that. When in battle finish off your opponent as quickly and efficiently as possible then move on the next. If you stay too long on one then it’s likely you will have to face two, even three at once.”
“We’re only practicing,” Jim argued between breaths.
“Have a look at yourself,” the officer indicated with the end of his staff, the bloody marks on Jim’s face and body. “Do you think I held back just because we’re training. This is how you learn, particularly when you learn fast. You receive pain, to give pain.”
He lowered his staff and slowly walked around him to the rack from where he originally retrieved it. “That’s enough for today.” His declaration caused the crowd to grumble in protest. “Tomorrow - when you face me - come prepared to hurt me.”
“Did I do well?”
“For the first time, yes,” Vincent conceded. “Your footwork and reflexes are fine and you move well but you need to develop the killer instinct. And you’re favouring your right arm.”
“The shoulder is dodgy,” Jim explained.
“What?”
“It dislocates,” he clarified the condition.
Vincent frowned. “That could be a problem,” he declared. “I’ll think of ways to better utilise the arm without risking the shoulder.”
He shelved the staff and collected his jacket. “You had better clean up. The others will think you have been in a fight.”

Emily looked shocked when Jim returned. He looked a fright, cuts on his face, and an obvious bloodied nose. She had to think someone had attacked him.
“What in Heaven’s name happened to you?” she asked him, shocked.
“I had a disagreement with someone,” he told her blandly.
“You do a lot, I’ve noticed. Is there anyone out there that doesn’t want to have a piece of you?”
He gave her a wry smile. “I guess I just rub some people up the wrong way.”
Jim went to the food table. There was fruit there, some unusual and unnamed variety, tasty all the same. The acidity of the juice stung his cut lip.
“You haven’t had a good day.” The Captain stood to his side, smiling at Jim’s treatment under Vincent’s staff.
“He said I showed promise,” Jim told him proudly.
“You certainly entertained my men - I’ll say that for you.”
Jim narrowed his eyes at the officer. “Did you come just to make fun of me?” he asked suspiciously.
“No,” the captain told him, “…but making fun of you is a bonus. It seems Her Majesty the Queen invited you all to the gathering. I’ve been sent to fetch you.”
Her Majesty had been serious as Jim learnt when they climbed the stairs to the third floor. They were separated at the top - the ladies went off into their own area for fitting and the gentlemen down to the King’s audience chambers.
He was waiting for them there with attendants present, and a long rack of clothes to try on. Jim suspected none of these clothes would fit, but he was proved wrong. They were His Majesty’s personal wardrobe and surprisingly they all did not look ridiculous, like a procession of preening seventeen century aristocrats. With some of them the fit was smart and elegant. Sammy was much larger than the others, and his suit required further adjustment. Jim was ever suspicious.
“You didn’t need to do this, Your Majesty. We’d be out of place at your party.”
“My wife invited you, and she always gets her way,” the king explained. “Besides, I’d like you to come. You’re all my guests – which is not strictly true – and you should see that we are not all business here. The clothes are necessary - you would be out of place without them. Also…” He leant in to share his secret, his mouth contorted with a wicked grin. “… It annoys Vamedja so much I could not resist not inviting you myself.”
Jim stopped himself. This man held their lives in his hands and Jim didn’t even know his name. They had made a connection of sorts, and thought there must be more ground he could make. He held out his hand to the monarch to take. “If I could be so bold…I’m James Fletcher.” He introduced himself, expecting the king to do likewise and to shake his hand.
He took it. “I am Matthew the twenty-eighth,” he said regally, “…Monarch of the Southern Realm.”
“That’s a mouthful,” Jim said with a smile.
“Yes, it is,” Matthew agreed.
His Majesty looked down at their clasped hands and gasped, his eyes wide open with surprise. Jim’s eyes followed the king’s down to where his steel grey band was in clear view, appearing from the sleeve of his jacket.
“Is there something wrong?” Jim asked him, perplexed at the reaction.
“You have a band like mine,” the king gasped.
Now Jim was surprised. A frown replaced his smile. “Show me,” he demanded, forgetting momentarily just who he was talking to.
Letting go, the king pulled his own sleeve back revealing his own band. He did have one like Jim’s, only his seemed to be made of polished gold.

***

Zizza stood behind Kammat. From this vantage point, looking between the Ambassador and the Prime Minister, he could see the king and the stranger. What caught his attention more than anything was what was on both of their right wrists. Two bands, the king’s gold shining on his right wrist, and the strangers, dull and grey.
He had waited for this moment, it was all the confirmation he needed to proceed. The wheels were waiting to be set in motion, hanging on his word to start turning.
“Your Majesty,” Vamedja was droning, “Ambassador Kammat of Viller.”
The King left his earlier conversation and attended the ambassador and his attendants. “Ah, welcome Excellency,” he said.
“Your Majesty,” Kammat replied with a bow. “…your copy of the Treaty.” He clicked his fingers, calling his assistant: “Zizza…”
He stepped between them, pushing his way to the front, the scroll in his hand, offering it to the king. After the document was taken he offered the slightest of bows – not quite enough to impart proper respect but enough not to offend – it was well practiced.
“May this agreement seal our two nations together in common destiny,” the king said solemnly.
Vamedja had coached him obviously. “Well said, Your Majesty,” the Prime Minister purred in an almost self-congratulatory manner.
“Yes indeed,” Kammat added, “well said.” The Ambassador leaned in to speak confidentially to His Majesty. “Could we have a moment of your time?” he asked.
“Absolutely,” the king agreed. “We’re all done here.” 
The king turned to the other men in the room. They had been selecting items from His Majesty’s wardrobe and had since changed back into their regular attire. To one of them, the one who he had been speaking to earlier, he said: “Jim…could you take your people out?”
The stranger bowed gracefully and moved to comply but found the others were already moving to the door. He went to follow but the king grabbed his arm and spoke cryptically to him, smiling.
“The next time you’ll come back with fewer bruises. I did.”
The stranger was battered, cut and bruised like he had been in fight. The king seemed to understand the circumstances. The issue was irrelevant to Zizza - he was more interested in leaving as quickly as possible.
The moment that Kammat requested from the king lagged into the evening, and darkness was beginning to fall by the time he returned to his room. He put ink to parchment, scrawling a simple message - three lines only - folded the sheet and sealed it.
It was out of his hand and down to the dock a short time later, on its way to the Interchange long after the evening bells. He had a ship ready for this exact mission - ready to sail at any moment under any condition - and it was on its way.
The wheels begun to turn.

***

Their day’s work completed and with pay in their pockets, Byrne and Genty headed for one of the only taverns that would let them back in. Tired from a day’s training – which neither of them actually needed – Byrne wanted to put his feet up and enjoy a quiet drink before returning to the makeshift barracks for supper and bed. There was nothing special about the place. Indeed it looked like any other tavern in the kingdom.
They had been running quickly out of money after their previous employer had vanished without warning, and so had enlisted in a mercenary force surreptitiously (although the fact was well known by all) controlled by the Judiciary. Housed in tents just outside the city, the army was growing by the day and soon it would be able to challenge the military in number and strength.
The tavern was packed with customers and it was difficult to locate a seat. Genty stared down a simple farmer for a short time until the man moved along muttering under his breath. Byrne took the vacated position and sent his friend to the bar with two brass coins, then put his feet up on the table in front of him. The ale appeared a short time later and both men started on the evening’s drinking. Halfway through the first glass Genty had that look, the one where he went fishing for trouble.
“I’m bored,” he declared.
“You’re always bored,” Byrne replied, his forehead creased with annoyance.
“This place is boring.”
“Well, I like it here,” Byrne told him flatly. “No one bothers you, the ale is good and they don’t charge too much. If you get into a fight then you’re on your own. I’m not getting thrown out of another tavern just so you can be entertained.”
Another round - Byrne went this time with coin from Genty’s pocket.
“I liked our last job,” Genty said when they were halfway through their second. “We got to see some country and had the odd fight. It was good.”
“Our employer’s disappeared and an absent employer means no pay. You like to drink don’t you – well the money to pay for it’s got to come from somewhere.”
“I feel guilty leaving him like that – without saying anything.”
“He left us remember,” Byrne pointed out. “Look, we’ll stay here for a bit, earn a bit of brass,” he suggested, “…then find something else. In the meantime try and stay out of trouble – eh? Here…” He pulled out his purse and extracted more coin. “…get another round.”
Sometime during the time it took Genty to push his way through to the bar, order, receive two tankards of ale and push his way back, trouble found him. Judging by the raised voices emanating from the space between their table and the bar, the trouble resulted from a spillage – as many fights in bars often did – and had all the appearance of escalating beyond control. His friend was annoyed as he shouldered his way through to the table, slamming the tankards down and muttering to himself.
“What was that all about?” Byrne didn’t really need to ask, but he did all the same, and Genty did not have the chance to reply. His antagonist was rapidly approaching, short and squat, and he was dressed as a solider and was far ahead of them in alcohol consumption.
“Don’t you walk away from me!” the man slurred angrily, “You come back!”
Byrne was on his feet and between the two of them, his hand out toward the unhappy soldier. “Hey! Take it easy.”
“Who’s going to pay for my drink, hey?”
“It’s alright,” Byrne cajoled him, reaching carefully for his purse again. “I’ll pay…”
Genty was less than impressed with going back to the counter for another. His ale was unattended and getting warmer. The angry solider was getting less so as time marched on, mulled by the ale he had consumed earlier and by Byrne’s politics.
A third tankard was placed down on the table and their new friend downed it in a matter of moments, slamming it down heavily and wiping his mouth. Genty followed suit moments later leaving Byrne behind, sitting with his cup in his hand and his eyebrows raised in disbelief.
Byrne deliberately sipped at his, enjoying each mouthful whilst the other two at his table watched every swallow. It took some time for him to reach the bottom.
“Right,” said Genty decisively when Byrne put his empty tankard down, “…another three.”
Genty was gone again up to the counter, leaving the other two at the table, staring at each other. 
“Where you guys from?” the soldier asked hesitantly.
“East - the mountains.”
“Mountain men?” He smiled, looking down at what passed as a uniform Byrne was wearing. “You’re with the Judge’s Guards?”
“Eh, yeah, but it’s not much of a guard though.”
Genty was back, ale in hand. “Here you go.”
Once again Byrne watched his drinking friends rapidly drain their cups. He was left holding his tankard again, and started on it slowly as before. He was watched. Every sip.
Holding out his hand, Genty offered to go to the bar again for the next order.
“It’s busy here tonight,” Byrne observed once Genty had departed.
“There’s a lot of us units in town,” the soldier explained. “There’s more each day.”
“You’re not from here?”
“Up north: on the Kharge.” He leaned forward, trying to keep his voice audible but also not so loud as to alert those around him. “Look, I like you guys, and, well, I hate to say it but you’re going to be on the wrong side.”
“Wrong side of what?”
“Something’s in the wind my friend, something big.” Their new drinking partner looked about nervously, as if he was giving away a state secret. “The general’s been pulling in all us units from the north – well, all over really. You’re working for the judges, right? They’re recruiting, but I don’t think they’ll have enough.”
Another round arrived via Genty and its fate followed that of the others before it. Now all the men were getting mellow, the soldier with them more so seeing he had a head start. Byrne was at his limit but the others were obviously not.
Another round was on the way.
“You were saying… enough for what?” Byrne pressed. If there was going to be trouble, he’d want to know about it.
“You want me to spell it out for you?”
“No,” Byrne said. He understood the ramifications. “I think I get the idea.”
“You guys better get out when while you can,” the solider added. “This could get real nasty.”
A big strong hand appeared out of nowhere onto his new friend’s shoulder.
“There you are,” the owner of it said. “Come on, we’re going.”
“Sarge! I was just talking to these guys…”
“You’ve talked long enough,” the sergeant told him firmly.
Genty appeared behind the new arrival, three tankards between his hands. “He’s with us,” he said.
“Yep, he with you and that’s the problem. Now, Back up.”
“We’re just having a friendly cup of ale, that’s all,” Genty explained, a sharp edge appearing in his voice. “You can have him when we’re done.”
Genty placed all three cups onto the table.
Carefully Byrne placed a restraining hand on his friend’s shoulder. He knew where Genty was going and didn’t like it. “We’re not after any trouble,” he told the sergeant.
“Is that right?”
There was a twinkle in Genty’s eye that Byrne knew all to well. Soon his friend would start to bate. “I think trouble’s found us after all, Byrne.”
“Easy now,” Byrne cautioned, checking the exits.
“Why don’t you too run along?” was the suggestion. “You’re way over your heads.”
And that was the point when it all fell apart. Genty started to swear extensively, the heritage of the sergeant featuring prominently, goading him to crossing the line between talk and action.
Byrne smiled to himself. He knew Genty would sober up quickly, as this was his custom, so that he could face the enemy. A veteran of bar fights from his youth, he was well able to hold his own, but Byrne quickly realised it was not one man his friend was fighting, but several. They began to appear behind the sergeant, as equally as menacing as their leader, and it was definite they would not fight fair. His friend would take them all on though - he never knew when enough was enough.
Looking down at his cup, still full of ale, he sighed. Byrne had warned him: if there was a fight then he was on his own. With the odds stacked against them, there would come a time when he would have to join the fray, and that time was rapidly approaching.
Leading with a pre-emptive blow direct to the face - Genty felled their leader spectacularly, leaving him flat on his back and bleeding from the nose. The fall had caused two others to stumble backwards onto tables behind them, taking them momentarily out of the battle. They would be back, but for a short time his friend would have only three the deal with.
They chose not to attack in concert, rather one at a time, as one would if having not planned the assault beforehand. Their inexperience was their downfall and Genty was able to take each one out in succession, taking only minor damage himself in the process.
Byrne hung back waiting for the inevitable. It was always the same, almost a cliché: someone grabs something made of glass, smashes it into something hard and brandishes it as a weapon. When this occurs, it is a sure sign things have been stepped up to the next level. When the sound he had been waiting for rang over the din, Byrne sighed and stood slowly, trying not to signal his intentions to the assailant, his target being only steps away. The soldier was moving toward Genty’s back and had almost arrived at striking distance when he was quickly punched to the ground - two sharp stabs from Byrnes right fist had him sprawled on the floor and out like a light.
The two that had been pushed out of the way in the opening seconds of the melee were now back on their feet and moving forward. They were reaching for their sides and things were becoming ugly. Two turned to four and then six - soldiers were appearing out of nowhere to assist their comrades. The two friends were quickly surrounded. Back to back they stood and waited for the final rush.
A glint of steal appeared at the side of one in front of Byrne - the man’s knife was drawn slowly and carefully from its sheath. Behind him he could feel Genty moving likewise - he knew his friend well, he knew he was starting to draw his own blade. Another movement caught his eye. Someone else was entering the scene. Reaching behind he stayed his friend’s hand, stopping him from pulling the knife out as the soldiers had done. He turned his head so that he could be heard.
“Wait. Not yet.”
Around them, the soldiers advanced, tightening the circle around them like a noose.

Chapter Thirty-Three

The room lit up with a brilliant flash. Startled, all involved in the altercation stepped back, all except one - he was laying on the ground along with some of his fellows, writhing and twitching like he had been bitten all over by ants. Standing over him, the tavern-keeper looked them all over with a long metal object in his hands. The smell of beer had been replaced by an odour like that of the air after a storm.
No one moved. It was obvious the keeper was responsible for the twitching man’s predicament, and the way he held his weapon suggested he was quite prepared to inflict the same treatment to anyone else who would challenge him.
Byrne stood in the centre of the circle with his friend at his back. They both craned their necks around to watch the new development closely. Byrne raised his hands ever so slowly, showing he was unarmed. Genty had taken his hand off the hilt of his knife after Byrne’s timely warning - his hands were empty also when he raised them.
“They’ll be no more of this in my place,” the tavern-keeper yelled at them all. It was unnecessary as no-one was speaking on account of the spectacle occurring at their feet. “Put your knives away. Now!” he commanded.
When he was satisfied they had done as he had instructed, the two in the centre fell under his gaze. “You two, clear off,” he demanded of the two friends.
“That’s not right,” Genty protested. “We didn’t start it and we haven’t finished our drinks.”
Byrne stopped him, grabbed his arm and started to pull him towards the door. “Evening all,” he said in an overly pleasant manner as they passed out into the night. “We’ll be off then.”
Once outside Genty turned on his friend. “Why are we running?” He was not one to turn tail when there was a fight in progress.
“We’re leaving because we were just given an opportunity to escape without getting killed,” Byrne explained as they moved out of sight of the tavern. “That opportunity is now running out. He can only hold them for so long and then all those guys in there are going to come out and the whole thing is going to start up again, out here. We’d better hop it while we can.”
He was right - the soldiers did pile out the door after they had been released by the keeper. He had given them enough time to make their escape. Not long, but long enough. The frustrated voices could be heard three streets away as then two made their way quickly away from the tavern down disserted back alleys.
Once they had moved beyond the hearing of pursuit they slowed their pace, making their way to the north gate and beyond that, to the tent barracks. Byrne was annoyed at his friend, having gotten them into another fight and thrown out of another tavern. Genty seemed not to notice or care - he walked along, whistling to himself – then stumbled over something in the alley. Almost falling, Genty swore loudly, turned and kicked the pile of refuse angrily. It moaned.
“Hey!” he exclaimed, jumping back. “It’s alive!”
“What?” Byrne asked.
Genty stooped down and rolled over a body.
“It’s just a drunk,” Byrne commented disdainfully. “Leave him.” He was keen to get some distance between them and the tavern.
“Wait up - I think I know this guy!”
Byrne looked as closely as the poor light would allow. The face was familiar. A short, dark, grey