Chapter 19
Owen awoke on something soft.
His feet and wrist hurt, and he felt sore all over. He opened his eyes. He
could see sloping stone above his head. He was used to seeing stone. He had
seen too much of it of late. He lifted his left hand. His wrist was bandaged.
He sat up. His head swam.
“Huzzah!” A voice rang out.
“You’re awake!”
Owen turned his head. His vision
cleared. At first, he thought he was seeing things, but it was real. Kallan and
Marcus stood beside his bed. They both looked healthy. Kallan came down, and
embraced him, clapping him heartily on the back. Owen winced a little, but put
his good right arm around his friends shoulder, and thumped him on the back
heartily.
Kallan stood back up, his
typical lopsided smile on his face. Marcus smiled, and bowed his head in
greeting. Owen smiled, and leaned back slowly on the back of his bed. He looked
around. He was in a stone room, although one wall seemed to be made of a
glistening solid rock, complete with a few small stalactites. It went up at a
diagonal slant, until it hit the stone wall on the opposite side. A door led
out of the opposite side.
“Where…?”
“With the rebellion!” Kallan
replied jovially. “Isn’t it grand?”
Owen flipped off the covers of
his bed, and rolled over, sitting on the edge. He looked down. His feet were
bandaged. He remembered the frozen mud, and the shackles. He wore clean wool
leggings, and a fresh wool shirt. He
tried to stand. His feet smarted and stung. He winced. He sat back down. He
lifted his feet, as Kallan and Marcus watched.
He looked at the bottom. Streaks
of blood were on the bandages. He grimaced at the pain, then turned, and lay
back down. He lay there, relaxing. Kallan and Marcus watched him, smiling.
The door opened. A few small
faces peered in. Owen shot up, a huge smile on his face. The children rushed
in. Korbin, Kerwin, Kassi, and Kole. All of the children who were like siblings
to Owen. They climbed up onto his bed, laughing, hugging. Owen laughed, and
hugged in surprise. Kallan and Marcus pulled them off of him.
“Come you, leave Owen alone.
He’s hurt and tired.” Kallan said, smiling. He turned to Owen, and spoke
quietly. “I never thought I’d be so happy to see the little blighters.” He had
a wide grin on his face. Then more people appeared in the doorway. Keegan, and
Kaylee. Angela and her three little boys. Owen grinned, and almost cried at the
surprise of seeing all of them here. It was a happy reunion.
He was wrapped in hugs. After a
few minutes of joyous conversation, laughing, and reunion, they all stood back,
watching Owen, beaming. Owen leaned back on the headboard of his bed, so
overwhelmed with happiness, he couldn’t speak. He lay there, beaming. Then Keegan
spoke.
“We are all together again.” He
was smiling through his beard. He placed an arm around Kaylee.
Owen turned, and tried to stand
again, this time ignoring the biting pain in his feet. Marcus and Kallan placed
their arms under his shoulders, and helped him to the door. Kallan shoved it
open, and they walked out. All of the surviving villagers followed them.
They were in a long hall,
similar to that of Cardowac’s castle, but lit brightly. Two windows cast
brilliant beams of light across the long tables inside. A few men bustled
around, feeding the large fireplaces with wood, and gathering leftover food.
“The midday meal just ended.”
Marcus said. He let go of Owen, letting Kallan support him. He quickly walked
out a side door, following several of the servers
Kallan led Owen to a bench on the table. He sat down. His back ached. Marcus came back
in. He held a bowl, and a trencher of food. It was more food than Owen had seen
since he had left the village. Owen dug in, eating voraciously. He took the
carved spoon, and began to eat the hearty fish soup. It tasted strange, but
good. He dipped a thick hearty piece of bread into the broth, and ate it. He
brought the bowl up to his face and drank the last of the rich broth.
The children began to play near
the fire, wrestling, and tugging at each other. Owen pushed the bowl back, and
sighed happily. Kallan grinned.
“Were ya hungry?” He said with a
wink, and took the dishes, walking back out. Marcus sat down beside him.
“Nai is safe.” He said quietly,
smiling wryly. “I know you were probably worried.”
Owen nodded, blushing just a bit.
“What of the other slaves?”
“They are safe as well. Noren
has them being treated right now.”
Owen looked up, surprised.
“Noren?”
Marcus smiled widely. “Aye, Noren.
He is high up in the rebellion. Otherwise, I don’t know if we would have been
received as well as we were.”
Owen nodded, smiling, still
surprised. It seemed that everyone was here.
Then, the large doors on the far end of the hall opened. A number of men
entered. They talked, quietly. Some of
them seemed to be old veterans, while others were younger men, tall and strong.
One of them turned, and walked toward Marcus and Owen with a smile.
“Owen! It’s good to see you!”
Noren smiled broadly. He was clad in a dark blue tunic, down to his knees, with
long dark leather boots, and a cloak held with a silver clasp. His dark hair
was swept back, and his fuzzy beard had grown out, making him look more comical
than anything else. Owen stood, shakily.
Marcus wrapped his arm around him, and supported him. Noren continued.
“How are you feeling? I take it
our facilities are good enough?”
Owen smiled. “Aye. I’ve been comfortable.” He winced a bit at
the pain in his feet. “What happened?”
“When your friends arrived, with
your message….”
Marcus interrupted. “From
Sharp-eye.”
Noren nodded. “Yes. I convinced
my superiors to give me enough men to defeat Cardowacs troops. They did not
wish to give me the forces at first, but I convinced them that it would give us
a large group of new recruits, they agreed, a little reluctantly, if nothing
else. Then I rode out our north entrance, down upon Moransford, and we defeated
Cardowac, saved you from death, and rescued the slaves!”
Owen smiled at his enthusiasm.
“I am thankful. I thought I was dead.”
Noren nodded. “Well, you are
not, and we have more troops.”
He held up a bag. “I believe
this was yours. We recovered it from the armory of the Moransford jail.” He
gave it to Owen.
He opened it, and looked inside.
There was his belt, with a flint and steel, and his pouch of food. His cloak
was in a roll, and his leather jerkin was also there. There also was his small
satchel. He pulled it out, and opened it. Everything was just as he had left
it. The map of parchment was crumpled, but still in good shape. He put it back.
Then he pulled out the small leatherbound book. He gave it to Noren.
“This may be useful to you, I
don’t know.”
Noren opened it, and his eyes
lit up, and a look of surprise came to his face. He paged through it.
“You have no idea. This… this is
invaluable information. I will share it with our council.” He looked distant,
and excited in a strange way. He tucked the book away into his tunic.
Kallan came back, smiling.
“Let’s go to the healers. Owen needs to be looked at. And maybe get him
something to help him stand on his own, so we don’t have to be his legs until
he heals.”
Noren nodded, and then led them
off the main room, into a medium sized room. In it were several beds, and
shelves of mixtures everywhere. Herbs hung from the ceiling, and a pot of
something was boiling over the fireplace. A few of the beds were filled, and
there were men and women in dark robes attending them. Marcus and Kallan set
Owen down in a chair by the fire, and waited for one of the healers to be free.
Noren walked over to one of the
healers, and spoke quietly to him for a moment. The little old man set down the small book in
which he was writing. He walked over,
holding some bandages, and a short knife. He sat down next to Owen. His face
was bearded, his face wrinkled. He looked Owen in the face, and his eyes grew
wide for a moment. The look passed soon and he went to his work.
“Lend me your foot, lad.” He
said, smiling broadly. His wizened face looked only slightly insane, but Owen
lifted his foot up, and the old man took it in his lap. He carefully cut the
bandages, and pulled them off of Owens foot. They stuck a little to the wounds,
and Owen winced as they were pulled off. The old man took some ointment off of
the table on which he had set it, and began to rub it on the bottom of Owens
foot. He used very little, making sure to only get it in the wound. Owen
gripped the edge of the chair at the pain. The weathered little man began to
wrap the wound again with the cloth. He wrapped it all around the foot, and
then around the ankle, then he tied it off. He reached out, and Owen gave him
the other foot. He repeated the process.
Owen set them down on the ground
lightly. He started to stand, when the old man stopped him.
“Wait for a few little moments,
lad.” He said, hurrying off past a few shelves. Owen heard him humming and
rummaging for a moment, and then he came back, holding two curious sticks. They
were straight, with a short piece of wood attached to the top. The top was
wrapped in wool, tied around with leather. The man motioned for Owen to stand
up. Marcus and Kallan lifted him to his feet.
The old man held them out to the
boy, and he took them, putting the crutches under his arms.. Marcus and Kallan
let him go, and he carefully put them forward. He swung forward on them,
landing on his feet a bit harder than he had intended. He winced, but kept
trying. After a minute of practice, Owen could move himself around, even though
it was slow.
The old man clapped happily,
then turned, bowed to Noren, and bent toward Owen with a strange and definitely
not insane look in his eyes. It was a hunger, a joy, as if he wished to cry
out, but could not. Finally, his voice hoarse and quiet, he spoke. “Good to see
you again, Owen.” Owen started at the use of his name, then the crazy light
returned to the old man’s eyes and he tottered off, back to work.
Noren smiled. “Now you should be able to get
about on your own!” He said, and then opened the door out. Owen went through,
with Marcus and Kallan following behind, but his mind was troubled.
“Who was that man?”
Noren glanced back. “That would
be Ewan. He came to us when the rebellion had just begun; looking for his son…
but his son had been killed in the battle against evil. So he has been here
ever since… I’ve known him since I was but young, but he has gone a bit crazy
in the last few years…”
Owen nodded thoughtfully,
wondering if the old man had lost his wits or just hidden them. He followed out
into the hall, still puzzled over this mystery.
The rest of the villagers still sat in the
hall, conversing freely. They all looked so happy, Owen thought. He wondered
where Nai was. Probably with the other slaves. He thought of her father. He
felt sorry suddenly. His family and his friends were here. But Nai had nothing.
He wondered if she had met all the villagers yet.
He took a seat near the fire.
Kallan and Marcus sat near him. He felt drowsy. Marcus looked over at him.
“Do you want to go back to bed?”
Owen shook his head to ward off sleep, then
spoke, drowsily.
“Aye, I guess. Rest would be a
good thing.” He stood, and moved across the room, back to his room. He clunked
through the door, and then sat down on his bed. He set the crutches next to the
bed, and then lay down. Marcus and Kallan sat down next to him. Owen shivered.
Marcus walked to a small chest at the foot of the bed, and opened it.
“Noren had all of your old
clothes returned to you, along with a few new ones that each new recruit
receives.”
Owen raised an eyebrow. “New
recruit?”
Kallan nodded, and grinned.
“We’ve been recruited into the rebellion, did you not know?”
Marcus didn’t look so happy. He
muttered something under his breath, but didn’t say anything else. He held up a
pair of woolen stockings.
“These were part of the new
clothes.” He handed them too Owen. Owen pulled them carefully over his
bandages, careful not to disturb them. He lay back, his feet warmer, his toes
no longer showing out of the bandages. Kallan sat down.
“We’ll have to find you some
bigger boots. So those bandages don’t get all torn up.” He leaned back on the
edge of the bed. Owen lay back on the pillows, and then began to doze. The
stress, the work, and the food had made him tired again. He drifted off.
*************************************************************************************
Owen awoke later. The room was
dark, and empty. He felt for his crutches, and grabbed them. He sat up, and lifted
himself lightly to his feet. He slowly worked his way to the door and opened
it. The light was dim, but it was much brighter than the pitch blackness of his
room. He hobbled out. Servers moved around, placing large trays of food on the
table. Owen moved just to his right, to one of the large fireplaces. He took a
seat on a small bench near it.
There was no sign of any of his
friends, so he just sat back and enjoyed the warmth of the fire. Through the
windows above, a bit of snow filtered through. He looked up. The sky was
clouded. A bit of fog wisped through the
window. He wondered how high up in the mountains they were. A balcony went around the upper edge of the
hall. He could see large wooden shutters that could be closed over the windows.
He supposed they would be closed during the night to keep out the greater part
of the cold.
He warmed his hands, soaking in
the heat. People began to light braziers around the room, illuminating it. Owen
heard a creaking sound. He looked up. Two men were closing the large wooden
shutters. Someone sat down next to Owen.
He turned. Kallan smiled, and held up a large pair of leather shoes.
“I managed to get a hold of these!” He said,
passing them to Owen. “They should fit your feet.” Owen lifted his foot, and
shoved it into the leather shoe. It fit. He put the other one on, and settled
back onto the bench. He looked back at the preparations for dinner. Marcus sat
down on the other side of the bench.
“Dinner will begin shortly.” He
looked back as well, looking slightly perturbed. “They are bringing in the last
of the food.”
Owen watched the people ready
dinner. He looked at Marcus. “Why do we get to eat at the castle? We aren’t any
more special than any of the other people of the rebellion.”
Marcus nodded. “We are Noren’s
special guests right now. And it doesn’t matter much, anyway. Everyone gets the
same food.”
Owen looked slightly confused.
Marcus continued. “All food and supplies are turned in to the leadership of the
rebellion. They distribute it equally to all, so that ‘everyone gets their fair
share’.” Marcus sounded sarcastic.
“Weapons as well, are given to the central leadership. No one has weapons
except for the guards and leadership. It is meant to prevent crime.” Marcus
quieted, looking into the fire. Owen noticed that he carried no weapons, save
for a knife, the handle just showing over the edge of the cloth wrapping around
his boots.
Owen frowned. “About the food…
wouldn’t that allow for some people to eat off of others hard work?”
Marcus nodded. “Fortunately,
they are few in this group of people.” He did not look happy at all. Kallan
seemed oblivious to the discussion going on next to him. Owen turned to him, to
ask him something, but stopped. Kallan’s eyes were fixed upon one thing. Owen
followed his gaze to a young woman, one of the slaves. Owen recognized her as
the girl who had first told him about Nai. She was talking with an older woman,
but she turned, and looked at Kallan. He blushed, and looked into the fire.
Owen chuckled lightly, and
looked back to the fire as well. The three of them sat there for a moment, quiet,
until they heard a loud clanging noise. The noisy room went silent. A tall,
battered veteran, his hair shaven closely to his head, raised his voice.
“Shall we begin?”
Everyone began to seat
themselves on the table. Marcus, Owen, and Kallan sat near the middle of one of
the long tables. Owen saw many of the slaves in different places around the
table. He scanned the crowd, searching for one particular blonde haired girl.
He took a few bites of his soup, made with some game animal.
Kallan elbowed him. Owen looked
up questioningly. Kallan nodded his head toward the far side of the two tables.
Owen saw her. She was busy eating, sitting with a few other slaves. Owen went
back to his food, now assured she was alright. He would go to her after dinner.
They all ate quickly, chewing
the wheat bread and meaty game soup.
After the meal was finished,
everyone stood, and took their dishes to the stairs. They were taken in piles
by the kitchen staff. Owen immediately went to find Nai. She was at one of the
fireplaces. She sat near a few other slaves. He tapped her on the shoulder. She
turned, and smiled when she saw him. She stood, and hugged him gently.
“How are you?” She said.
“Doing alright.” He said,
carefully balancing on his crutches.
She turned, and started walking
slowly. He followed her toward the main doors. They were cracked open. She
walked out. Owen glanced back. Kallan
caught his eye. The other boy grinned broadly, and winked. Owen went out the
door. Nai had taken a seat on a bench outside the doors. Owen sat down a few
feet down the bench, keeping a respectful distance.
He cleared his throat. She
looked over.
“Nai, I just…” He paused. His
throat felt very dry suddenly.
“Yes?” She said, smiling.
“I just… wanted to let you
know…” He felt his face grow red. He hoped that it wouldn’t show in the
darkness.
“Yes?” She said again.
“I...I’m just glad you’re
alright.” He finally spit out, stuttering. She smiled.
“Thank you. I’m glad you are
alright as well.” She leaned back against the wall. Owen got up the courage to
speak again.
“Where are you staying?” He
said, fidgeting with his crutches.
“On a room on the wall.” She
said, pointing. “With a group of the other slaves.”
Owen nodded. He pushed himself up onto his crutches.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?”
She smiled. “Yes, maybe.”
Owen worked his way back inside,
and went back across to his room. He muttered angrily at himself, mentally
kicking himself for not saying what he had originally intended. He wished he
wasn’t such an idiot around girls. He sighed as he opened the door into the
room. Marcus and Kallan were already
there. They had lit a lamp, and were pulling their cots out from under Owen’s
bed. He lay down, and eased himself into bed. He pulled the covers over
himself, and fell into a deep, dreamless, sleep.
*************************************************************************************
The next morning, he woke after
the sun rose. In the darkness of his room, there was no way of knowing what
time it was. He slipped out of bed, wincing at the pain in his feet. He supported himself with his right hand
against the wall, making his way to the door. He pulled it open. Dim light
filtered into the room. He looked back. Kallan and Marcus were still
asleep. He closed the door behind him.
He hobbled to the table. The
only other man was the puzzling old man, Ewan, stoking the fires. The sunlight
filtered through the windows up above. Owen looked up at them. Owen shivered.
He stood, and walked to a seat closer to the fire.
Ewan finished his fire tending
duties, then turned and sat beside Owen.
“How are those feet, lad?” he
said, now returned to his dottering ways. Owen wondered if he had really seen
yesterday’s change, or if it had just been his imagination.
Owen held them up toward the
fire. “Good, I think. Still sore.” He shrugged. “It’ll just take time.”
The old man nodded. “You’re
strong, lad. You’ll get through it.” He looked back at the healers door. “I
must go back to work, I’m afraid.” He stood, and half bowed to the boy. “I will
see you soon, I think, Owen.” He walked quickly back to the door, and Owen was
left alone to think.
He leaned back on the table, putting his cold feet out to the fire. It
felt good. He looked around the large hall. Two massive tables were in the
middle. There were fireplaces on both sides, and one across from the large
double doors. A few doors went out the back, next to the far fireplace. One of
them went to Owens room.
On each side of the hall, there
were a few doors branching off. Owen knew one of them went to the kitchen. On
the opposite side from the kitchen, the door to the healers sat next to the
open fireplace. A stair went up one side
of the hall, above the doors to the healers. It led to the balcony below the
windows. Another stair led from the far side of the balcony up to the ceiling.
It entered another level.
Owen went back to his room,
since no one was awake. He took a taper from a small box near the fire, and lit
it. With some difficulty, he made it back to the room without dropping or
putting out the slow burning taper. He lit the small oil lamp and the candles
in his room. They cast a warm light over the slumbering bodies of Marcus and
Kallan. He went to the box at the end of his bed, and opened it. Inside were his
wool shirt, his wool leggings, and his old weathered leather boots. He smiled. It was good to see the old
familiar things again.
He wondered where his weapons
were, and then remembered what Marcus had told him. They were all with the
central armory. He frowned. He would have liked to have a few of his own
weapons about him. It didn’t seem right that the normal citizens would not be
armed. He sighed, and closed it with a click. He pulled himself up, and hobbled
to bed.
He lay back, thoughtful. He
wondered if this rebellion was as wonderful as he had first thought. An dull
ache in his stomach gave him second thoughts, but at least it was better than
the current leadership. He would help them. But an edge of some uneasiness
hunted his thoughts. He pushed it off to the corner of his mind.
Kallan rolled over, and opened his eyes. He
sat up, yawning. Marcus woke in a moment. They both sat there. Owen smiled.
“Good morning.”
Kallan muttered something, and
began to rummage around for his belt. Marcus nodded.
“And good morning to you.” He
stood, and stretched his lanky frame like a cat. He shook himself. Owen smiled
to himself, wondering of Marcus knew how ridiculous he looked when he did that.
Kallan slipped on his old brown tunic over his wool shirt, and put on his belt.
He stood, and stretched, yawning. He
came over, and sat on Owens bed. He yawned again. Owen smiled.
“Sleep good?”
“Aye.” He stood, and went to the
door, still looking drowsy. He walked out. Marcus smiled at Owen.
“He is off to stick his head in
a bucket of water.”
Owen grinned. “Wake himself up?”
“Aye.” Marcus slipped his jerkin
and hood on, and went to the door. Owen stood, and took his crutches. He blew out the lights, and followed Marcus
out into the hall.
****************************************************************************
After a piece of bread, and a
dunking of the head in water (for Kallan) the three went to begin exploring the
caves. They went down to the lake, and skipped stones off the dark surface.
Marcus and Kallan climbed up on some of the small formations of rock, while
Owen watched. He felt a bit left out,
but tried not to stress over it too much.
They went to the animal pens,
where the sheep and pigs were kept. Owen asked how they were fed. Kallan shrugged, but Marcus said he thought
there were some high mountain meadows from which they harvested feed for the
winter. Owen nodded. They moved on,
going through the huge cave. The large gaps in the ceiling let in a much light.
Owen looked up, and could see the sky, and the foggy clouds. Eventually, their
explorations led them to the main gate. There were several guards around it, to
prevent people from leaving, Marcus said, with an unpleasant look on his face. The
uneasy feeling of earlier came again.
They finally came back to the
castle, at the time of the midday meal. It was once again soup. Owen asked if
all they ever had was soup, and Kallan shrugged.
“It’s all they’ve made since
we’ve been here.”
Marcus looked at it disgustedly,
and then slowly began to sip it.
Owen
ate quickly, and then Noren came, his usual jovial self. He walked up, holding several
fur cloaks, and a large smile.
“Come, friends! I would like to
show you a magnificent view.”
He led them to the stairs, and
they walked up, Owen coming slowly on his crutches. When they reached the
balcony, Owen glanced out the open windows, but he could only see sky through
the thick walls. He felt a rush of cold breeze. He shivered, and hurried after
them, his feet stinging.
They began to climb a second
flight of stairs. It halted at a small landing. They stopped to wait for Owen.
Noren pointed to a doorway.
“I and all the other members of
the council stay in those rooms.”
He continued up the stairs. They
ended with a trap door. Noren turned, passing them the fur cloaks.
“It is cold.” He motioned to
Kallan and Marcus. “Help Owen, he will not want his crutches.” Owen dropped
them on the stairs, and they held him up. Noren pushed open the door, putting
up his hood. A rush of cold wind came in. Owen wrapped the cloak tightly about
himself. They climbed out of the trap door. They were hit by a blast of wind.
Owen looked around.
They stood on top of the tower,
but rather than extending into the cave, it stuck out of the side of a
mountain. Behind him, Owen could see the summit, rising above them. Around
them, the stone was icy, and cold. Small drifts of snow were against the
bulwarks. Several statues stood, icy, ahead of them, overlooking the edge of
the tower.
Noren led the way forward, up to
the edge. Owen looked out. It was an amazing sight. Below them, the mountain
dropped, mostly rocky and steep, down into the foothills, thousands and
thousands of feet. Far below, nestled against a finger of trees, he could see
the tiny shape of Moransford. Further east, he could see a city, much larger
than Moransford. He looked north. As far as his eye could see, the mountains
wove north. But in the distance, faded, and foggy, he could see a distant city.
He looked south. The mountains went south for a while, but he could see that
they began to curl westward. He looked outward, east, ahead. Plains stretched
out, forever, it seemed. They were barren, dry, and yellow.
Owen wrapped his cloak tighter
around him. The wind chapped his face. He looked to his right, at one of the
two tall statues. It was carved in the likeness of a man, clothed in heavy
clothing, holding weapons. His head was wrapped in cloth, hiding the carven
face. Icicles hung off his body, and he was covered in frost. Owen was studying
him. Then, the statue turned its head. Owen jerked in surprise.
Noren walked to the statue. They
followed. Noren leaned close, and spoke a few words, but Owen did not hear them
in the rushing wind. The statue man shook his head, and pointed down toward
Moransford. Noren nodded, and then moved back to the trap door, fighting the
wind. He opened it, and they scrambled back into the hole. They sat on the
stairs for a minute, catching their breath. Noren pulled the trap door shut
behind him, blocking the wind.
“Amazing, eh?”
Owen nodded. “Who are those
men?”
Noren smiled. “They are among
our sharpest eyed, most resilient men. They are tasked to keep watch from the
tower.”
Owen looked surprised. “They can
see anything from up there?”
“Not much, but we must have a
guard up there. There is a good dozen of them, and they trade off on the tower
shift. We make sure to keep them warm.”
Owen thought what an amazing
sight he had just seen, as Marcus and Kallan helped him down the stairs. He
held his crutches in his hands, as going down stairs on them did not sound
entertaining to Owen. When they reached the floor of the hall, he took them,
and began to go about on his own again.
*********************************************************************
Owen went about on crutches for
several days. On the fifth day after he had arrived with the rebellion, he woke
ready to be done with them. It was very early, a few hours before sunrise.
Marcus and Kallan were still
asleep, so he lit the lamp, and began to unwind his bandages. Under the
bandages, on the bottom of his feet, crisscrossed a pattern of scars. The scabs
had worn away, and fallen with the bandages. Owen flexed his feet, then stood,
barefoot, on the cold stone floor. They only hurt just a little bit. He pulled
on his light leather boots. They felt good on his feet. He felt whole again.
He walked out the door, carrying
his crutches under his arm. It had only been a few days, but he was glad to be
off the crutches. He went to the healers room, and knocked on the door. The old
man, Ewan, greeted him. He led him inside, and he took a seat by the fire. The
old man quickly took the bandages to be cleaned, and set the crutches in the
corner.
“Let’s see your wrist, lad.” He
said, taking Owens wrist, still bandaged, in his hand. He began to slowly
unwrap the wound. He pulled it away, revealing a nasty looking scab across the
wrist.
“You won’t need this anymore.”
He said, taking away the bandage. He took Owens hand, and squeezed it tightly.
“Careful, lad. Careful.”
He made a motion to wait and
then bustled off to make a pot of tea. Owen sat, savoring the fire, thoughtful.
The old man was soon back with two small clay cups of herb tea. Owen sipped it,
and looked at the old man. “Where do you come from, Ewan?”
Ewan was silent for a moment,
looking at Owen shrewdly as if trying to decide something. Finally he spoke. “I
am from a village of no consequence on the plains of the great desert." He looked far off, sipping his tea. Owen looked at him carefully, trying to judge him. After several quiet moments, Ewan finished his cup, and looked up at Owen again.
"I will hope to see you again soon, Owen."
With those words he smiled, and
ushered Owen to the door. Owen thought how curious the old man was. He shook
his head, wondering, and went out into the hall. He walked across to his room.
He went inside. Kallan was getting dressed, but Marcus was not inside. Kallan
slipped on his shirt, and then turned as the door opened. It was Marcus. He
looked grim.
“Make yourself presentable. I just met Noren. He says the council wants
to meet all of us in a few minutes upstairs.” He went to his cot, and pulled on
his newer wool shirt, and his hood. Kallan turned to get something, and Owen
saw Marcus casually reach down to check the knife in his boot. An uneasy knot formed in Owens stomach.
It was then that Marcus noticed
his crutches were gone. “Better?”
Owen grinned. “Aye.”
Kallan turned. “What? Oh.” He
noticed as well. He grinned, and then followed Marcus out the door.
They went up the stairs, to the
second floor. They opened the door on the small landing. They went in, and were
in a hallway. On the far side, to their right, a door was open. They went, and
looked in. A group of men sat around a
table. Marcus walked in. They all looked up, than Noren stood, and offered the
three on a seat. They sat next to Keegan, who was already there.
One of the men, on the far side
of the table, rose to his feet. He was the same tall veteran who began their
meals every day. He looked serious, but not unfriendly. He had a small thin
beard, shaved on the cheeks. He cleared his throat.
“Welcome. My name is General
Corwin. I am the leader of the rebellion as of now. Unfortunately, my duties
have not allowed me to meet with you until now, but now I have called you to
discuss something with you. You are some of the most interesting people that
have come to us in recent months. We wish to talk to you.” He looked at all
three of them. Keegan nodded his head to continue. The man did.
“We first wish to ask you a few
direct questions. First, are you interested in the downfall of the tyrant?”
Keegan sat silent for a moment,
and then replied. “We would not wish for others to stay under his reign.”
Another man, clad in a robe,
shorter and balding, spoke up, directing his question at Owen. “What did you
intend to do with the slaves, after you had broken them free from Cardowac?”
Owen had to think for a moment.
“I… I don’t really know. I had not expected that result. I meant to get them
away from Cardowac, and the empire.”
The man nodded slowly. Another
man, this one a scarred fighter, spoke. “Would you wish to help us put a new
government in place?”
Keegan’s looked at each one in
turn. “First, may I ask a question of my own. What kind of government do you
intend to put in place?”
The man who had spoken first
answered.
“The same as we have now, with
all people at the same level.”
Owen felt Marcus tense beside
him. He looked at Keegan.
“Equal?”
“Yes.”
Keegan looked tense. “The same
and equal are not the same.”
The whole room was silent. “And
why do you say that?”
“Because all are created equal,
but all are not the same. And all are not meant to be the same.” He paused. “If
you take all weapons from everyone, then who will have the weapons?”
The leader hesitated. “The
enforcers of the law…”
“What happens if the government
becomes tyrannical again?”
The room was silent. Keegan
continued. “The people will have no way to defend themselves. There will be no
rebellion, because the people will have no way of rebelling.”
The leader spoke again. “But
there will be less robbery and killing…”
Keegan was on the attack now.
“If everyone is the same, then what need will anyone have to rob? And, anyway,
we know that the lawbreakers break the law. If weapons are against the law, it
will not stop the criminals from having them, against the laws of the land. But
those that abide to the laws of the land will have no weapons, and nothing to
defend them.”
“We will enforce the law
accordingly. The criminals who possess weapons will be brought to justice.”
The room was bristling with
energy. All eyes were fixed upon Keegan. He looked directly at the leader.
“You would never be able to
bring justice.” He looked at them. The room was suddenly feeling very
unfriendly. Owen fidgeted uncomfortably. He agreed with Keegan, but he also
felt that it was necessary to get rid of the emperor. He was torn. Then the
General stood again, fire in his eyes.
“This meeting is over.”
Keegan stood, and walked out.
Marcus followed. Owen sat, silent. Kallan seemed torn. He looked back and forth
from Corwin, to Noren, to the doorway. They both stood. The man spoke to Owen
and Kallan.
“What your father has said will
not be held against you.”
Owen stood, and nodded politely
to the council, before turning, and walking out. Kallan followed. They reached
the stairway.
“That went well.” Owen said
slightly sarcastically, looking at Kallan. Kallan nodded, but was frowning. He
seemed to be having an inner turmoil. Owen could read his face well, and the signs
were not good.
They walked back to their room. Marcus
sat on the bed, his teeth gritted. He looked at Kallan.
His jaw was stiff. “We are not
welcome here.” Kallan said nothing, but just moved to his cot. He lay down,
still looking torn. Owens stomach tightened into a knot.
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