From Across the Clouded Range (86 page)

Dasen and Teth both nodded.

“
Good, then follow me, and
keep your yaps shut.”

Chapter 37

The ax raced down and sank into the
top of the log almost exactly where Dasen had aimed the blow. He
smiled and silently congratulated himself; he had come a long
way.

The self-satisfied look on Ral’s face
should have been enough to tell him that he was getting a bad
assignment, but Wil Muldon had made it look so easy that Dasen did
not think much about it. He had looked at the remnants of the
carefully maintained grove of apple trees that had been established
at one end of the Wilmont green. Only a few of the trees remained
standing, their emerging fruit rotting on the ground. The only
obvious source of fuel for miles, the trees and their potential
crop had been sacrificed to the invaders’ cook fires. At some
point, the trees had been cut down and sawed into logs. Wil Muldon
had been splitting those logs into quick-burning fractions and
piling them on a two-wheeled cart. A big shouldered, broad chested
barrel of a man, Wil drove his ax effortlessly through log after
log, dissecting them with single, decisive blows.

Ral had provided no instruction or
direction beyond pointing toward an ax – he had assigned Teth to
hauling water with the same aplomb. Wil had acknowledged his
companion with a nod but offered nothing more. So with a shrug,
Dasen had placed a log on a stump and lifted the heavy ax. His
first swing had missed the log entirely, the ax head ending its
downward arc a terrifying few inches from his big toe. Though more
cautious, the next blow was not much better. He had hit the log
just hard enough to upend it and send it spinning painfully into
his shin.

Finally, with a gruff chuckle, Wil had
provided some much needed instruction. Now, though it took him
several blows, he could at least split the hard logs without
serious injury. As Wil had shown him, he lifted the ax, bringing
the log with it and brought it back down onto the stump. He smiled
as the ax bit deeper into the log forcing the wood apart. A few
more blows and the log splintered into two nearly equal halves. He
returned one of the halves to the stump and prepared his next
blow.

“
You know, I saw your
family,” Dasen said as he aimed, thinking to strike a conversation.
“Louisa, Danny, and the baby . . . .”

“
Not now,” Wil warned. “No
talking.”

Dasen clamped his jaw shut
and watched Wil. Was it just his imagination that Wil’s arms were
shaking slightly as he lifted the ax, that the following blow was
not as powerful or accurate, that he had a sudden distance in his
eyes?
Hard memories
, Dasen realized.
He doesn’t want to
think about them now. I was an ass to even mention them.

He was just preparing to apologize
when he saw Wil’s eyes pop. He was blanched with fear and almost
tripping over himself to get a new log on his stump. His hands
shook as he scrambled for the log, and he looked at Dasen with
desperation, nearly begging him with his eyes.

Dasen soon found the source of Wil’s
distress. Emerging from the tents that covered every inch of the
town green were three enormous warriors. They took seats on stumps
on the other side of the former grove and started to pick at the
food on the wooden plates they carried. They spoke loudly among
themselves in their foreign language without seeming to notice the
work being done a few paces away. That lack of attention did not
matter to Wil. His fear was obvious in his every movement, and he
was suddenly working at a blistering pace.

Dasen tried to match him, but there
was no chance of that. In only a few minutes, his arms were
trembling, his breath came in gasps, there was a painful cramp in
his side, and he could feel the blisters forming on his hands. As
the minutes passed and his miseries grew, log after log, swing
after swing. He began watching the warriors with real hatred. He
watched them talking between bites, relishing their meals, arguing
over some trivial matter, and prayed that they would just finish
their meal and leave. He cursed them under his breath and imagined
their heads on his stump as he brought the ax down, feeling the
pain it caused in his arms, back, and hands.

A new log followed the last, but
before Dasen could lift the ax, a string of strange words shook the
clearing. He looked up and narrowly caught himself before his eyes
met those of the man who had spoken. The warrior bellowed again,
“Kälargh duthür’ra tu churtü-thie, te-adeate!”

Dasen did not understand a word, but
Wil helped him again. He dropped his ax and ran eagerly to the
warriors, head bowed, shoulders slumped, knees bent, hands out, a
beggar receiving alms from a king. Dasen followed, trying his best
to match what appeared to be a well-practiced posture of
belittlement. The warriors handed their plates to the boys without
even looking toward them and walked off without another
word.

As soon as they were out of sight, Wil
attacked the scraps remaining on the two plates he had taken,
voraciously lapping them up with his fingers and shoveling it into
his mouth as if he had not eaten in weeks. Dasen looked at the
plate he had been given. It held a few pieces of boiled potato, a
bone with a few traces of meat, and a corner of doughy flatbread.
Revolted, Dasen almost refused the scraps, but a painful rumble
from his stomach reminded him that he had not eaten in more than a
day. With a great breath, he swallowed his pride and tried to keep
from thinking about the man who had been chewing on these scraps a
moment before.

When he finished, Wil grabbed his
plate, licked it clean, and gnawed on the bone until not even a dog
would be interested in what was left. He looked at the setting sun,
the smoke rising from the camp in endless streamers, then at Dasen.
He licked his lips, a hungry look in his eye that set Dasen back,
and said, “I’ll deliver the wood. You keep chopping till Ral
dismisses ya.”

A moment later, he had added the empty
plates to the top of the cart and was pulling it down a narrow road
defined only by the larger gap between the rows of tents. Dasen
sighed, feeling the pit in his stomach more acutely now that it had
been reminded of its purpose. He looked back at the pile of logs,
at his ax, then at his raw hands. The very thought of hefting the
ax was torture.

He was just wondering what would
happen if he stopped, when Teth slipped through the nearby tents
and walked quickly toward him. She held two wooden buckets
suspended from each end of a sturdy pole that was spread across her
shoulders. The buckets were noticeably empty and swung effortlessly
back and forth as she maneuvered around the last of the tents. She
nervously inspected the stumps around them. “Dasen, quick, follow
me. We’re getting out of here,” she whispered as she
passed.

Dasen tried to question her, but she
shot him an icy glare, so he snapped his mouth shut and fell in
silently behind her.

#

“
You were right,” Teth
said in hushed tones over her shoulder as they walked. “There is no
system at all for controlling our movements. The warriors don’t
even notice us as long as they think we’re doing work. While I was
fetching water, I walked all over the camp and the village without
anyone sparing me a glance.”

Dasen had spoken that thought out loud
as Ral was giving them a very cursory tour of the camp, but he had
had no intentions of actually testing the theory. Ral’s warnings
about what happened to those who drew the Darthurs’ notice had been
enough for him. He should have known that Teth would not possess
any such sense of caution

“
That may allow us to move
around the camp, but how are we going to get
out
of the camp?” he whispered back
– she was going to get him killed. “I think the invaders might get
curious if they see a couple of people walking across an empty
field with buckets.”

Teth looked back and grinned as if she
expected the question. “It’s going to be a dark night. The moon is
almost new, and it won’t be up for a long time.”

Dasen looked up. The last rays of the
sun were just falling below the horizon, and the moon was nowhere
to be seen, but that did not reassure him. His expression betrayed
his skepticism.

Teth was not deterred. “I figure we
can use these buckets to get to the very farthest end of the camp.
. . .” Teth fell silent as one of the warriors came into view. She
dropped her eyes to the ground and quickened her pace as they
passed each other in opposite directions between the tents. Despite
almost touching them, the huge man did not spare them a glance.
Dasen suspected that if there had been any less room, he would have
stepped on them without ever looking down to see what was under his
foot.

A few seconds after the warrior
passed, they turned a corner between the tents and saw the small
well that serviced their part of the camp. To one side of the area
was a huge bed of coals with pots, pans, and collapsible stoves
scattered across it. Several boys surrounded those coals, dragging
the cooking implements from the fire, cleaning them out, and
meticulously washing them. Any remaining scraps of food were piled
on a tarp where Ral sat with Wil and several of the older captives.
They ate greedily from the scraps as the younger boys looked on
longingly.

Teth cursed. “They’re done serving the
food. If there were invaders around, we could sneak in and get you
some buckets without anyone raising an eye. Now we’ll have to deal
with Ral.” She took a deep breath. “Follow my lead, and try to do a
better job of lying.” She lowered her shoulders and strode toward
the well as if nothing unusual was happening.

Ral saw them approach, rose to his
feet, and pointed a skeletal finger at Teth. “Where have you been?
You’ve been gone all evening. How hard is it to deliver water?”
When he noticed Dasen trailing behind, his admonishment turned to
fury. “Did I tell you to stop chopping wood? Do you two think this
is some kind of game?” His voice was cast low so as not to draw
attention, but his anger was clear, and the other boys began moving
away from him. “Well, it’s not! This is serious! And I won’t let
you spoiled brats get the rest of us killed.” Ral dropped his voice
to sound ominous. “We have our own brand of punishment for the
likes of you.”

Faced with that barrage, Dasen
expected Teth to wrestle Ral to the ground, break his fingers, and
assume control of the captives, but she lowered her head, looking
more chastened than he thought possible. “I’m really sorry it took
me so long,” she whispered meekly. “I was on my way back here when
one of the Darthur made me follow him all over the camp with his
saddle. When he let me go, I didn’t know where I was. I wandered
around until I found Dasen, and he offered to lead me back
here.”

Ral looked at them both
suspiciously, shifting his gaze from one to the other as if
weighing them. His judgment was passed as if he were being merciful
to a fault. “Okay. Because you’re new, I’ll let it go, but pay
closer attention to where you are. And don’t
ever
leave your work without my
permission.” He paused and thought. “I was saving a portion of this
for you, but I think a night of hunger would do you two some good.
Now, both of you, can spend the rest of the night filling the water
barrels around the camp. And I better see you back here often. Got
it.” With a motion of his hand, he dismissed them and returned to
his scraps.

Teth ran to the well with Dasen on her
heels. They drew the water, filled four buckets to the brim, lifted
poles onto their shoulders, and headed back into the tents. As soon
as they were out of sight, Teth turned south toward the
town.

“
As I was saying,” Teth
continued when they were clear of the well, “if we can get to the
edge of the camp, it’s a clear run from there to the city. There
don’t appear to be any patrols, and I doubt anyone will miss us.”
She smiled over her shoulder, obviously pleased with herself. She
gestured toward the western sky with her buckets. “I think those
might help as well.”

In the sky to the north and west, a
mountain of dark clouds bubbled across the horizon. They were
darker than the already dark night. Lightning flashed between them
punctuated by the distant roll of thunder that was evident now that
Dasen knew to listen for it. The storm was clearly heading toward
them, and Dasen had to agree that it would make it very difficult
for anyone to see them once they were out of the camp. He also
agreed that this was probably the best chance they would have to
escape the invaders, and given his limited experience with Ral and
the invaders, he had no desire to stay, but there was another
consideration. Ral had said that his father would be back tonight.
He could not miss the opportunity to see him, had to let him know
that he was alright and find out what had happened to Rynn. He
could not leave now.

He was drawing the breath to tell Teth
when another warrior passed. The words hung frozen on his lips,
dying to escape, but the warriors grew more numerous as they wove
through the tents, so he followed Teth in begrudging silence until
they made it out of the tents and into the town. They were able to
move quickly between the buildings, but the streets were crowded,
so they kept their heads down and remained silent. To Dasen’s
relief, none of the invaders paid them the slightest attention, and
Teth led the way through the maze as if she had lived in the town
her entire life.