The murky brown liquid immediately began to seep into the princess’ dress as the Queen harshly snapped at the serving boy. The young man had barely come of age and here he was facing the unreasonable wrath of the Queen herself. Meanwhile, the princess stared silently at her ruined dress as her maidens began fussing over her. She did not squeal or complain, but rather acknowledged the steaming mess before her and turned her cold attention to the young man barely older than herself.
I remember it all so clearly. That poor boy, Harry, if I remember correctly, would become an example to us all. The colony soldiers had left their meals and in an instant, they had punched the wind from Harry’s lungs.
My mind clouds a little at the chaos that ensued, whether by panic or training to avoid such an unpleasant memory I’m not sure. Harry had been dragged kicking and screaming through the dirt of the path through Avlym. Becker and his men gathered everyone around the largest of the firepits, he would make sure that no one would miss what was about to happen.
Mother had tried her best to shield me from what had happened next, thankfully, between her and the crowd of people, most of the spectacle had been blocked from me. But we all heard the noises.
The drawing of the sword. The gentle sizzle of disturbed coals tumbling into the grass. Harry cries of fear and apology. The colony’s words to the crowd, prolonging the serving boy’s agony. The sword slicing through the air. The pained wails.
The second that their attendance was no longer forced, the crowd had dispersed, eager to rush their loved ones into the fake protection of their homes. I had been too curious and had looked back as Randall ushered me and my sister back towards our home.
I saw Harry’s pale face in the flickers of the flames, he knelt before one of the many tree stumps that normally seated those in the evening. His arms were clutched against him, blood drenching his shirt and the ground beneath. I remember the gasp of realisation as I watched Harry get dragged away. The serving boy was taken away by my mother and Ida, but his hands remained on the tree stump.
Mother and Ida had bustled Harry towards Ida’s home where they could care for him. They came within a few meters of the princess as they passed. Her face hadn’t changed, she still had not uttered a single word. There was no remorse or guilt in her passive look at them as they passed, no shock or disgust, not even any smugness or satisfaction. She had been completely indifferent.
That day I had learnt the true source of my people’s hatred towards the colony, its roots went so much deeper than hunger and poverty. Harry hadn’t survived. His life had been cut short, all because of an unfortunate mistake and the cruelty of a stranger.
I know of the colony’s inhumanity, we all knew particularly after that night. There had always been whippings, beatings, starvation and torture, but never had we witnessed such unprovoked brutality. The royal visit so long ago had awakened us to the might of the colony. They had punished us for something so small, with less consideration than they might use to choose their attire in the morning.
If the colony catch us, I have no doubt in my mind that they will kill us. With this conclusion as my walking companion, I quieten my exhaustion and focus on scaling the peak in front of us.
Eventually, around three quarters up the side of our incline, we stop at an opening. The air is thinner, and the wind sharper. The very faintest of soft orange glows from deep inside. There’s no chance the light would betray the camp for any scouts scouring the area, even from here you could almost convince yourself that the slight hue was a trick on the eyes.
CHAPTER EIGHT
It’s like the whole mountain has simply been hollowed out, a shell to the camp infesting it. Crudely made torches have been attached to the sides of the cavern, stretching far below to a central ground level. We had to pass several guards and watchers as we made our way through the labyrinth of tunnels, all of whom were alert at first and then left speechless as a lost forest prince in Avlym when they realised who was walking past them.
After squeezing through a slit barely big enough for one, and which required a lot of manoeuvring to get Edwyn through, we had emerged onto rocky outcropping into the cavern on which we now stand.
Guy, Jaq, and I are left overlooking the camp as the others immediately move to escort Edwyn to medical aid. A combination of rough steps and gravel slopes lead down to the floor of the cavern, where a fair few dark shapes can be seen either bustling around or huddled together in groups. In between us and them are several other stony ledges, home to either more makeshift beds or various key sections. For example, some way off to our right one such ledge hosts a stockpile of weapons, another only a single flight of stairs from the floor has a few mountain hairs hanging over a small pit. Finally, Edwyn reappears briefly being carried across part of the floor. A couple of the larger men carry him the rest of the way through an opening, disappearing from sight.
“How are they doing?” Guy breaks the silence. I would have expected him to rush to the ground floor at
