Without another word the king takes off running and I hastily begin my pursuit, leaving Jaq and Tharrin to escort our new prisoner. Orrian yells as we break out onto the sand, snapping the remainder of the guards to attention and stirring the sleeping.
“UP, UP, UP!” he repeats, jogging along the rows of beds and forcing his people onto their feet. Groggily they rise in the dim light of dawn.
I head over to our own platform where it was only an hour ago that I was sleeping under the illusion of safety and freedom. I shake Horas roughly by the shoulder and must resort to toppling him over the side before he snaps to attention. I can hardly blame the man, following the previous day’s travelling we’ve all had at most four or five hours of sleep.
Eventually, with the assistance of the guards, everyone has gathered by the gentle smoulders of last night’s fire. The urgency of the rude awakening has roused everyone to their senses and already sleep is a distant memory in all pairs of alert eyes that wait expectantly for Orrian to begin.
“The Halpians are coming,” Orrian reveals, “they’ll be here before the sun sets.”
Some hang their heads in despair, others allow slight gasps to escape their lips, but the majority stand silent, waiting for what’s to come.
Behind us I notice Jaq and Tharrin shoving the spy before them and lurking at the edge of the group, a few heads turn but most are far too focused on their king to notice the new arrival.
“Faelyn,” Orrian scans the crowd for his former adversary before settling on the head rising above the others. “Get a team together and make a start on a barricade. I want them sharpened and several feet tall, use the materials from the beds, we won’t be needing them anymore.”
Faelyn nods without argument and loyally leaves the group dragging a couple others behind him. Surprisingly, he had not scoffed at the news of the colony’s coming, the conclusion that he had predicted all along that had caused such a disagreement. I marvel at Orrian’s authority, once again it is easy to see the king inside of him.
“Ryfon, Sage Malach, take the children to the water’s edge by the rafts. If they breach the walls you might be able to get out of here,” Orrian says to the medic and elder. Immediately children are ushered towards the pair of them before they are guided away from the group.
“Jaq tie him up, Tharrin can keep watch,” Orrian says, “Everyone, you know what to do. Split up, we need the wall built, a group on weapons, and hunters start setting traps.”
With his orders issued, Orrian pauses, taking a moment to survey the crowd before him before the organised chaos ensues. In his silence he seems to make eye contact with each and every one of us, gifting us with his strength and confidence. There is nothing boy-like about him anymore, he is a king, and it is time to lead his army to battle.
“This is it, this is where we stand. This is the day that the Halpians regret ever challenging our tribe,” he finishes.
By the time dawn reintroduces the gold to the ground beneath our feet we have already been at work for a couple of hours. A large stockpile of viciously sharpened logs has been collected, ready to be angled within frames pointing outwards from the sand. Some hunters have escaped the boundary line, kneeling on the edge of the grass to tend to unseen traps. Even the children have begun to aid with the effort, using vines and leaves to carefully strengthen the rafts under the instruction of Ryfon and Malach.
I accompany Horas and Astera, there are very few proper weapons brought with us and new wooden ones need to be carved and distributed. Thankfully I still have Edwyn’s knife available which I now use to whittle down the points of spears-to-be. With the colony’s steel swords rendering wooden ones useless, spears are the only useful weapon worth our time. Of the weapons brought with us the majority were knives with very few bows, and with a lack of string creating new ones is out of the question. A few can be seen here and there, slung across Orrian’s back for example, but even then, the number of arrows accompanying them is pitiful.
Apart from the swords and the few bows we are essentially unarmed. The knives are useful and certainly better than nothing, but there’s no kidding ourselves that they’ll prevail against armour and swords.
“How many people do we have? How many more spears?” I ask after another few hours, moments after a couple of children had made the rounds delivering our morning portion of fish.
“Not sure, perhaps twenty more? Then we can go help Faelyn,” Astera replies from her sitting position where she intricately etches runes into the shafts. Even under as much pressure as we are, I was incredulous to learn that the markings were still important enough to be worth the time.
“Yeah that should be enough to arm everyone that can fight, no point in making more,” Horas adds, like me, he is in possession of one of the few blades, part of the reason why we were chosen for this task.
“We’re lucky you’re with us,” Astera comments, looking up momentarily to face me, “It’s going to be bloody, we’ll need every fighter we can get. You know we all appreciate what you’re doing for us, right?”
“Well I mean we’re kind of stuck together now,” I laugh humourlessly, trying to shrug of the undeserved praise, Astera has already returned her attention to the engraving.
Guilt tugs at my heart. When the colony finally get here, and there is now no doubt that they will, these people will be expecting from me. The twins who, in our travels, have come to trust me, will be relying on me to have their back in the heat of battle.
