Before long we stop our excursion through the valley and begin to ascend one of the edges, I carefully follow in the footsteps of Guy and Jaq in front of me over the steep rise of loose stones and boulders. Despite this I still lose my footing at least a dozen times as we climb, sending an apologetic look to the Robyn-like girl behind who must keep supporting me. Each time is disarming, in the limited moonlight the resemblance really is uncanny.
Looking around at the bare feet surrounding me as we face such harsh terrain, I see uncountable cuts, some old and some fresh, all toes beaten and purple. Barefoot may have served these people well when they were running around the treetops but walking over these loose sharp rocks without any kind of protection must be perilous. It would only take one misstep and the scree coating the mountain face would cut them to pieces.
Of course, my thoughts inevitably return to home. Again, I send a prayer for my mum, Alice, and Robyn, hoping that Arthur and the rest of Avlym can persuade the colony to exclude them from my treachery. I know Arthur would do anything for us, I just hope it’s enough. Also, nobody in the village has ever seen the colony itself, so of course we have no idea how many people they have, but with a bit of luck, most of them will be in these mountains. A small village posing little threat shouldn’t demand too much attention. Now that I know that they have enough to comfortably storm Guy’s home, I wonder how many soldiers they really have at their disposal.
I think back to one time, years ago. It had been the biggest display of power I think I’ve ever witnessed, a reminder to the extent of the threat that I face today.
The Royal family had visited Avlym once, not the King, but the Queen and their children passed through. They were touring through each of the villages, demanding each of our hospitalities before moving onto the next. None of us had known the purpose of their visit. When I had put the question to Arthur, he had shrugged me off replying that when the Royals demanded something, it was not up to us to question them.
Everyone in Avlym had been forced to work for a fortnight just to prepare for those brief hours where we were to be their hosts. Nobody had slept well in those days of preparation.
Robyn and I, along with Alice, Rhys, and the rest of Avlym’s children, had spent sunrise to long past dawn creating bunting to hang from our pitiful rooftops to try and make the village more welcoming and impressive. It hadn’t worked. I don’t think anyone could have described the abomination as well as Ida, “No matter how much you dress up the hog, it will never become a lady.”
While we had been labouring away with the decorations, everyone else had set about preparing for the feast. The hunters risked staying out late into the evening, desperate to provide enough food, I have never seen them take as many risks as they did then. Everyone was working long past their usual hours. If you weren’t hunting you were collecting fruits, if you weren’t collecting fruits then you were helping in the bakery, or in the fields, or the decorations. There was always something to be done.
It was long-past noon when they had finally arrived, Becker rushed forth to greet them as soon as loud instruments began blaring. Nobody in living memory remembers seeing as many of the colony soldiers as we did that day. The foot soldiers came first, led by Becker who had an unmissable strut in his stride. He had been present during the activities of the previous few days and given everyone strict instructions on the proper way to act. As a result, he marched through the streets which were lined by all of us, kneeling in the dirt with our heads bowed. Still, despite myself, I had dared to allow my eyes to flicker upwards briefly as the royal carriage passed.
Its walls were a deep purple, the same hues as the sky before a summer’s dusk. Bright beams and intricate patterns decorated the delicate looking frame as its wheels bounced and tumbled over the uneven path. The carriage was wide enough that a pair of horses were required to pull it, a ceremoniously dressed man drove them forwards with the cracks of a long whip. On the side of the carriage, a faint gold trace outlined a doorframe leading onto a small step hovering above the dirt in which we knelt.
Above this door was a meshed window. As the carriage passed, the glint of wide eyes emerges from the protection of the carriage and small fingers cling to the metal. The royal children. At that moment a young girl’s gaze turned to me, eyes vaguely interested but passive, not dissimilar to how another child might examine a rogue worm snaking across the soil. My eyes darted to the floor in fear, Becker had yelled at us all enough for me to know that I had certainly been caught at something I shouldn’t have been doing.
The carriage passed without incident. I would like to say that its passing had allowed me to breathe easy but in truth I had stayed awake in terror for the next few days, convinced that they were going to come for me. But no, it wasn’t me who would have to fear their wrath.
It had been one of the serving boys. The feast had been lively, thankfully the Royals were only staying for the night and so we could at least arrange the night’s festivities without having to keep some in reserve for the future.
