“As you’d expect, they’re cold, hungry, and frightened. But we’re hanging on. It’s too risky to light a proper fire in here, which also makes cooking food a little slower. We’re getting buy just, catching a few fish and a little from hunting, but we haven’t got many large pelts, and they go towards the children. With our providers slowly disappearing as well it’s not getting any easier. The torches help a little with the cold but unless you’re close, their heat in a place this size counts for little,” Jaq answers.
Below us the noise has risen slightly, heads have begun to turn in our direction, clearly some of Jaq’s people have begun to spread the word of our arrival.
“They need leadership,” Jaq continues.
“I know,” Guy replies.
“They need a king; they need you.”
“I know,” Guy repeats.
Together we make our descent, Jaq in front, me bringing up the rear. It takes a good few minutes to reach the bottom, and I keep up my trend of losing my footing wherever possible, contrasting to Guy who seems to be in possession of constant unwavering balance. By the time we reach the last of the steps a large crowd has formed to greet us, or rather, to greet the return of their new king.
The noise reverberates round the stone walls and the expressions are mixed, some immediately bow on one knee, whilst others cheer and applaud the arrival, more worrisome though are the few who look on wearily, too tired and spent to be capable of such emotion.
Guy, recognising what his people need, has become a beacon. All solemnity and exhaustion replaced by grins and greetings. He seems a foot taller now, shoulders back, chin up, and standing straight, the personification of hope and defiance against the wrongs that have been committed against them. Jaq has stepped down to leave us and join the crowd, facing his king and joining in the celebrations.
I notice that, much like their king and our escorts, many of the people before me have varying artistic marks covering their faces. The same dark green ink highlights their features, their skin a canvas for the ink.
Among the rejoicing towards Guy, I notice a few glances in my direction. Most obviously confused, clearly these people were all familiar with each other in the way that I know everyone in Avlym, however they are reacting to my presence differently. Some continuing cheering when looking over to me, perhaps they identify me as a new ally or are maybe just eager to share the joy with anyone they can, whereas others are wary of me and either eye me suspiciously or return their attention to Guy. I suppose I cannot blame the latter group, these people have been through so much at the hands of the colony, lost almost everything, I do not take their carefulness to heart, if I had been through all that they had I wouldn’t be too quick to trust a stranger into my new home either regardless of whether he’s been brought to us by the heir or not. Both groups are in the minority however, most worrying of all is the third set of people, the ones whispering. They shoot me quick glances, lasting a mere fraction of a second, before turning to converse in hushed tones. It is not hard to guess the topic of discussion as they regularly return their attention to me.
A small commotion begins at the back of the crowd until a parting appears down the middle. Said parting is quickly filled as hands emerge, clawing their way to the front and making a path for a lean figure I can now see above the heads of most of the crowd, working his way forwards. Eventually, the man makes his way to the front, unlike most of his brethren he is dressed in several layers, which hang from his lean slender frame. Shoulder-length dirty blonde hair drapes over sharp eyes and chiselled features. Between the hair and the swirling patterns of ink stretching from his jawbone to his temple, very little of the man’s skin manages to peek through. Despite us being a couple of steps up from the ground floor he’s still almost at eye level.
“Orrian!” The man exclaims, arms wide. His smile does not reach his eyes.
He’s staring directly at Guy, and only now do I realise I still hadn’t been given Guy’s real name, but there’s no mistaking who the man is talking to.
“Faelyn,” Orrian smiles back, similarly his smile is fixed, it has not gone unnoticed that the man has neither kneeled nor addressed him properly.
“You’re alive,” Faelyn states factually, still with that disgustingly false grin.
“I am.”
“And I see you’ve brought a visitor,” The giant eyes me suspiciously.
“This is Dale, he’s the reason I’m alive. He’s to be treated like one of us now.” Faelyn whilst having previously ignored me, gives me his full attention now. It may be my paranoid imagination, but he seems to be looking at me like something to be kicked off the bottom of his boot. Always eager to avoid attention and certainly in front of such a large crowd of strangers, I immediately drop my gaze and feel my cheeks redden.
“Of course,” Faelyn drawls, “but we’ve already got too little food for too many mouths, he might have to provide for himself”.
“We’ll make it work,” Orrian asserts “He’s to stay here as my guest, we need to decide what-”
“Where have you been? Apparently, you ran away.” Faelyn interrupts. Mutterings have resumed within the crowd, Faelyn’s disrespect has not gone unnoticed.
“I was chased, and now I’m here. Thanks to Dale and Edwyn, but as I say, we need to decide what we’re going to do next. Some scouts saw us on the way and the Halpians will find us before long.”
Faelyn laughs incredulously.
“Are you serious? You reappear only to bring the enemy to us! I think we have a right to know just where
