“I need you to go to the other villages, take a few small groups with you. Tell them that the time has come to make a stand. The ones who will fight with us, bring them here,” Thoren orders. “They should bring everyone, even their weak and young.”
“What about the council?” asks Arthur.
“Tell them that unless they want the whole village to know their secret then I want their complete support,” says Thoren. “Go now. I want you out of here by dusk.”
Arthur hurries up the slight slope towards us. There’s a grin on his face, who would have thought that the placid man I grew up knowing would get so ignited by the prospect of war. Despite the fluttering of wings in my stomach, I know how he feels. We’re finally doing something; our people are actually challenging the tormentors that have ruled over us for too long.
“King Orrian. You will never rule my people, but we will fight alongside you,” says Thoren. Still he doesn’t turn to face us. “You speak of this mountain, does it have space for others?
“Yes, it does,” answers Orrian from beside me, unlike Arthur he doesn’t move to Thoren’s side.
“We’ll need you to take all of the vulnerable there before the fighting begins. If the colony retaliate, I don’t want any of them anywhere near here,” says Thoren.
“Of course, Damaris can take them there. She’ll bring our fighters back with her,” Orrian says.
“Good. We start preparing in the morning,” says Thoren with an air of finality.
We leave Thoren to his thoughts as we trudge back up towards the town. I give the giant one last look before we disappear among the buildings. He hasn’t moved, his broad arms are crossed and he stands straight as he stares into nothingness. I wonder what it must be like to find out that his daughter still breathes, how would I react if I suddenly found out that my dad was alive after all this time.
“Orrian, my king, please don’t make me leave you,” Damaris begs once out of Thoren’s earshot.
“I’ll be fine here, I need you to do this. Thoren’s right, if this goes wrong, we can’t let these people suffer like ours have,” says Orrian.
“Send Dale, he knows the route better anyway,” says Damaris.
“Damaris, that’s enough. I need Dale here,” says Orrian, his voice sterner now.
“Yes, my king,” Damaris grumbles.
We step back out from between two houses and onto the main street through Tarrin. Not sure where to spend the night, we begin down the road towards Arthur’s hut. Hopefully with him leaving there should be space to let us sleep there tonight.
“DALE!” a girl’s voice shouts from far away.
Robyn is running towards us, strands of her chestnut coloured hair coming untucked from behind her ear as she sprints down the dirt track. A bow bounces against her back and she wears the skin-fitting, forest-coloured clothing of a hunter. Dark brown boots cover tight dark green trousers and her hands are encased by leather archer’s gloves.
I had completely forgotten, as she’s several weeks older than myself she must have come of age by now. Have I really been gone from Avlym for that long? It both seems like an eternity and a heartbeat. I had never realised that she wanted to become a hunter, although now that I think of it, I’m not sure I can see her doing anything else.
I let go of Alice’s hand just as Robyn launches herself at me, the force of her hug sending me several steps backwards. As my head goes past her shoulder, I end up head butting her bow but thankfully she doesn’t seem to notice. I squeeze her back warmly, enjoying her embrace after so long. She is a breath of fresh air, saving me from my slow drowning in this sea of madness. She holds on slightly longer than I would expect, not that I’m about to complain. Finally, she lets go. She punches me on the shoulder, not aggressively but hard enough that numbness spreads through it.
“Where have you been? What happened? There have been so many different rumours!” she says excitedly.
“GUY!” she screams before I have a chance to answer any of her questions.
“It’s Orrian, I’m afraid,” Orrian says with a wide grin, “and this is Damaris.”
It’s now time for the forest king to be punched, I try to hide my smile at the look on Damaris’ face.
“YOU TALK?!” yells Robyn, I wonder if she’ll ever return to a more normal volume.
“I do yes,” Orrian says with a laugh.
“You need to tell me everything!” Robyn says. “Come on, let’s go inside. I’ll get us some drinks.”
“Wow, I can’t believe you actually managed to escape from the colony. To be honest, I still can’t believe you’re actually a king.” Robyn exclaims once Orrian has finished telling our story yet again.
He tries to keep it brief this time, but we are all mostly through with our drinks by the time he finishes. Orrian grimaces each time he takes a sip of his own flagon of Ale. I remember him telling my mother that they didn’t have alcohol in their tribe and he had been hesitant to accept it at first. It had required several promises that it took much more than one drink before he would get in the same state as Bennie often is.
“So, you’re a hunter now?” I say, pointing out the obvious. We’ve told our story too many times and I want to avoid the familiar questions that will come out of Robyn’s mouth for now. She had rushed inside a hut to set down some of her gear before coming here, but she is still in the same clothing.
“Yeah, I am,” she smiles widely, “Devin and Manuel have been teaching me, it took a while to get used to the bow, but I think I’m starting to get there. We’ve all been staying out late, there aren’t enough hunters to provide for everyone
