Twins: Chapter 8

Gavin winced as he watched Ellyn talk to the gypsies. They seemed friendly enough, but almost as a rule, the people back in his town never talked to gypsies. Just then, Ellyn motioned him over. He approached cautiously and Ellyn grabbed his arm to introduce him. Surprisingly, he found that the gypsies were quite unlike what he always imagined them to be. They seemed more civilized, friendly, and carefree.
“We are traveling to the city of Tiras – where are you headed?” asked Ellyn. She was talking to an old, bent over woman who looked to be at least seventy.
Gavin nudged Ellyn. Why did she have to tell everyone everything?
She simply shrugged her shoulders at him and continued talking to the old gypsy.
Gavin glanced about him. Everywhere he looked he met curious stares. There were a few young children, but mostly people from their early twenties and up. One man caught his attention. He looked to be the same age as Gavin. The young man, however, was watching Ellyn with amusement written on his face. Gavin had to smile himself. Ellyn got that look a lot.
“If you travel with us, you would have to do your share of the work,” the old woman was saying. Gavin turned back to the conversation with a start. Ellyn actually wanted to travel with them?
“We can do that,” Ellyn said. “When do you leave?”
“Once we finish eating breakfast. Come join us.”
Gavin’s shoulders drooped as the people around him welcomed him into the circle and Ellyn instantly began to chatter away and make friends. Gavin sighed and stared into the fire. It would be a long day.

“Your sister’s a spirited person,” Dan laughed. “That’s good. We don’t have much of that around here.”
Gavin nodded as he watched his sister having fun with some of the younger children. Dan was the man who Gavin had noticed earlier. He had come over to join Gavin and talk.
“You’re not from this country, are you?” Gavin turned to him.
Dan laughed again, an infectious, hearty laugh which seemed to sum up his happy-go-lucky character in an instant. He brushed light-colored hair out of his dark eyes. “My accent betrays me,” he said. “But you’re right; I am not related to any of the gypsies – nor am I from these lands. I come from up north, where towns are fewer and the air is colder. I joined the gypsies a few years ago and have not had the heart to leave them since.”
People began to get up and pack their things back into the wagon. “Time to go,” Dan stood as well. “Hope you’re up for a lot of walking.”
Gavin got up as well and found Ellyn securing their few belongings back onto Ben. “Why did you get us into this?” he whispered into her ear.
“Oh, don’t complain Gavin,” Ellyn brushed him off. “We’ll have protection and people to talk to until we reach the next tavern. What’s the matter with it?”
“You can’t just trust everyone you meet, Ellyn,” Gavin held the reins of their packhorse.
“Well, what do you want to do then? Ignore everyone you meet?”
Gavin turned and led Ben to the wagon. “Maybe,” he muttered to himself. The rest of the day went by tediously. Gavin found that he was either spacing out while he walked or he was talking to Dan. As it turned out, Dan was a very interesting person to have a conversation with. One of the things Gavin discovered about his new friend was that he could make people change moods in an instant. Gavin found that when he talked to Dan his irritated mood lessened until he was actually happy to talk to people. Dan’s talk was never boring, and when he was not entertaining Gavin with exaggerated tales of his life with the gypsies, he would talk of his childhood up north and the traditions they held there. At the end of the day, Gavin found himself sitting down wearily by the huge bonfire, listening to stories or songs by the gypsies and finally dozing off.

Gavin awoke to a throbbing pain in his shoulder and back. He was lying on the ground by the ashes of the fire, and realized that the cause of the pain was that he had been lying on a rock directly in between his shoulder blades. Gavin sat up and massaged his shoulder. It was early morning, and people were just getting up and preparing for breakfast. Regardless of what they looked like, the gypsies were excellent cooks. One of the men had shot a turkey to save for supper, and the women were making biscuits for breakfast.
“What are you sitting there for, eh?” A cracked voice spoke out behind Gavin. He felt a stick jab at his back, and spun around to see the old woman staring at him. “Get to work,” she said in a voice so commanding that Gavin would have thought her a threatening slave driver. Appearances certainly were deceiving.
Gavin stood, putting his cloak with Ben, and then came over to the old lady.
“Don’t just stand there, boy, help with breakfast,” she said. He found himself being dragged over to a woman who was stirring biscuit mix in a bowl.
“Here,” the woman said, pressing the mix and the spoon into his hands. “Spoon out the biscuits onto that pan and put it over the fire.” After saying this, she went of to make more mix. Gavin stood in front of the fire in bewilderment.
“C’mon, get movin’ boy,” the old woman called over to him.
"Doesn’t she have anything better to do?" Gavin thought. He sighed as he found the pan and began to spoon that mix onto it. "There will be no standing still here."
“No, no, no,” someone laughed behind him. The woman who had given him the mix knelt down next to him and took the spoon out of his hands. “You’re making the biscuits too small. They’ll burn too quickly that way.” She showed him the right size to make them and then left him to start over. Gavin heard a familiar laugh and Dan came over to him. “Matty’s definitely keeping you busy,” he said.
Gavin raised his eyebrows at the comment and finished spooning out the biscuits.
“You’d best let me get those for you,” Dan said. “Granny’s missing you.”
Gavin nodded and went off to find her. She seemed to be expecting him. “You’re going to need to pluck the turkey for supper,” she said. Gavin sighed again. What was he, a slave? Most of the men were just sitting around talking. Why were all the jobs falling to him? Normally, Gavin would not mind doing work, but all the walking had gotten to him. He just felt like going back to sleep.
Before he knew it, a huge, turkey was being shoved into his arms. He looked tentatively at it and sat down on a rock near the fire. How was he supposed to pull all the feathers out? Gavin glanced around him. Everyone seemed wrapped up in their own business. Good. He took a feather in between his fingers and yanked on it. The feather barely budged. He yanked on it again, making a sick face, but it still would not come out. What was the matter with this turkey? He grabbed onto the feather in a tight grip and pulled on it with all his strength. The feather popped off so suddenly that Gavin toppled over in shock on the ground. Almost as he had expected, Dan’s light-hearted laugh made him jump up in embarrassment.
“Stubborn turkey?” Dan asked. He took it and plucked a feather out. “You’re not pulling on it right. It needs to be a quick, jerky pull, like this,” Dan gave a demonstration. He handed the turkey back to Gavin. “That should make it easier.”
Gavin spent hours plucking that turkey. By the time they broke camp, he was still plucking the feathers out. Ellyn was walking next to him and Dan, and she unsuccessfully stifled a giggle. Gavin shot a warning glance at his twin, silencing her, and then continued to pull the feathers out. There was a long, awkward silence as they trudged on behind the wagon.
“Gavin,” Ellyn finally spoke, “are you sure you do not want me to do that for you?”
“I can do it myself,” Gavin replied gruffly. Ellyn and Dan exchanged smothered looks.
“You know,” Ellyn said slowly, “plucking turkeys is women’s work.”
“Try telling that to Granny,” Gavin brushed her off in annoyance.
“She’ll never know if you let me do it,” Ellyn made another attempt. “She’s in the wagon right now.”
“Oh yes she will, Ellyn,” Dan said warningly. “She sees everything, trust me.”
“Why do you want to pluck the turkey so badly anyway?” Gavin asked.
Ellyn rolled her eyes. “Just let me, okay?”
“Fine,” Gavin dumped it into her hands.
“Ha!” Ellyn exclaimed as Dan groaned. “You owe me,” she laughed.
Gavin looked at them in bewilderment. “What?”
“I made a bet with Dan that you would give me the turkey, and he bet you wouldn’t,” Ellyn explained. “Now he owes me ten gold coins.”
Gavin let out a groan. “Why do you keep wasting your money on betting and fortune-telling?” he asked, even though he knew saying it was useless.
“What?” Dan looked at Ellyn, amusement and curiosity clearly written across his face.
“Nothing,” Ellyn said, and stared at Gavin in annoyance.
“Well, you cannot go back on your deal,” said Gavin. “You still have to do the turkey.”
“Fine,” Ellyn began to pluck the turkey’s feathers.
“I’ll make you another bet, Ellyn, to win back my money,” Dan said to her. “I’ll bet you that you cannot pluck all those feathers out in ten minutes.”
Ellyn laughed. “I will accept that bet,” she said. “I’ll give you back your ten coins if you win, but if I win you have to give me another ten coins.”
Dan began the countdown out loud. By the time he had reached eight minutes, all three of them hoped they would never have to hear another number again. However, it was amusing to watch Ellyn frantically pull feathers out of the turkey. Gavin found that by the time Dan had reached one minute, he was practically covered in turkey feathers. Ellyn held up the bald turkey triumphantly. “Beat you again,” she laughed, and Dan groaned yet again. He reluctantly handed over the coins.
“Are you going to try to win those coins back?” asked Ellyn.
“No,” Dan replied quickly. “Not unless I can think up something that I’m sure I can beat you in.”
“Well, you had better think quickly,” said Ellyn. “We are reaching the tavern tonight, and that is when we are leaving you.”
At the mention of them leaving, Dan’s cheerful face actually sobered for a moment. Gavin was not the only one who noticed.
“I have one,” Ellyn said. “I’ll bet you that we will not come across each other again in our travels. That means I will have to pay you the next time we see each other.”
Dan smiled again. “Agreed.”

That night, they reached the tavern, and Gavin and Ellyn parted with Dan and the gypsies.
“Remember our bet!” Ellyn laughed as she waved goodbye to them outside the tavern. Dan waved back, and then disappeared in the darkness. Gavin and Ellyn turned to go inside, and Ellyn sighed. It was noisy and crowded in the tavern.
“Too bad we were with them for such a short time,” Ellyn said to her brother. “Dan can be much better company than you sometimes,” she nudged him playfully. He smiled and put his hand on her shoulder. Ellyn’s countenance softened a bit at his touch, and at that instant she seemed to change her mind about what she had said. “But then again …” she turned her face to her twin, “if I were still traveling with him I’m sure we would both lose all our money.”

Erath: chapter 7

Ratline sat down next to Erath. “Want to make a bet?” he asked.

Erath’s curiosity was aroused. “What about?” he said, leaning a little closer and lowering his voice.

“Whether you can escape or not,” came the reply.

His heart skipped a beat. “Off the Freedom?”

“Aye, that’s the idea.”

“What’s the price?”

Ratline scooted closer to his mate. He tilted his head to the side to talk with Erath instead of looking at him straight in the eye. “Life and money.”

Erath forced himself to be still and not jerk. “How do you mean?” he asked guardedly.

“I mean that if you win and get away, you have your life – freedom. If you get caught, you give me all the money we make from the Navy for two seasons.”

Stroking the stubby whiskers on his chin, Erath thought over it. The stakes seemed fair enough. He knew well that if he were caught, he would not only lose his pay for half a year, but he would probably lose his life as well. Deserters were usually hanged soon after being brought back. It took only a moment for Erath to think of all this before he gave his answer.

“Alright,” he said, “I’ll do it.” He extended his hand to meet Ratline’s and they shook on it.

Later that night, while they were on their watch, Ratline told Erath the plan he had formulated. They were to land in Tróss within a fortnight. While it was dark, and while he was on his watch, Erath would sneak off the ship; Ratline would make sure he was missed for at least a few hours.

It seemed Ratline was trying to help Erath get away instead of looking for a way to get money. Erath was not sure whether to be glad of the extra help, or more wary of it. With Ratline, no one could be sure. But he was aching to be rid of the Freedom. He longed to travel the streets again and not be constantly yelled at. To make and carry out his own orders. What he really wanted was true freedom, and it was not to be found on this ship.

Erath was at the crow’s nest – where he usually was on the long watch. All he could see was blackness and a faint line indicating where the rope ladder was. The mast swayed with the ship, but Erath kept perfect balance. A person who was new to a ship would have been terrified with such movement, but Erath had quickly adjusted.

He leaned his elbows on the rail, looking out into blackness, his mind far away. The wind tossed his long hair about him, but he didn’t notice. What will I do when I am away from here? he thought. The possibilities opened up before him. He could become a tradesman and work his way up to positions of power. Erath quickly rejected that idea. He was selfish, and did not want the responsibility of taking care of other people and their petty matters. What he wanted was to do anything that he enjoyed.

At last, the night came when Erath was to escape. There was a full moon, which unhappily for Erath, provided much illumination. His chest fluttered with excitement at the thought, he would soon be rid of the Freedom forever.

Ratline came up to him, his sauntering gait an instant annoyance. “You ready?” he whispered. Erath leaned over the edge of the railing, peering out over the streets that lay not more than a bow shot away. They were docked at a harbor, and were able to bring the Freedom up to the very piers for unloading. And yet he was nervous.

It was so simple, he told himself. All he had to do was climb out the port side, land softly, and get away down the pier and through the city. He did not answer Ratline at once.

“Come now, lad,” Ratline taunted, “yur’ not turnin’ coward on me, are ya’?”

Erath’s gaze snapped to meet Ratline’s, eyes flaming. “No,” he said fiercely. “I’m not the sort ‘a’ person to turn yeller’.” This was not to reassure only Ratline, but also himself.

“You got a quarter hour, then yur’ on yur’ own.” He extended his lean, calloused hand. “See ya’ in a few hours, boy.”

The young sailor straightened and turned to face him. “Goodbye,” he said, taking the hand and shaking it. “I will get away though.”

Ratline made no response. He lifted his eyebrows in doubt and ambled away.

Erath turned his gaze back to the city. He had no idea where he would go when he left it; all he knew was that it was his one opportunity to have his liberty back. Looking up, he saw a man in the crow’s nest. There was really no need for him to be up there; they were at land, but Erath saw instantly the danger it would cause him to be seen by that man in the full moonlight.

After taking a quick glance at the sky, he decided to wait until the cloud would pass over the moon. Then – and only then – would he make his attempt at freedom.

Erath casually walked to midship and took a good look at where the dock was. It could not have been more than six feet away. He was so close; it would be disastrous to fail in even one point of his plan. He had to make sure where he was going to land after it got darker.

Too soon did the cloud cover the moon. Erath’s spirits rose with the beating of his heart. This was it. He had to get off now. With one final deep breath, he launched himself over the side and landed on the dock. Immediately, he flattened himself to make sure no one had noticed. It did not appear so. Slowly, very slowly, Erath raised himself, and stole as quietly as he could down the pier.

Only when he had made it past the first few houses did he pause to breathe. He had escaped. The thought crowded his mind, filled him with ecstasy.

Confident in his silence, Erath broke into a run, going through the town in no more than five minutes. He stopped to catch his breath after he was clear of the little seaside city, and then took off running again. He knew not where he would go, or where to find food, but one thing reverberated in his mind: he was free.

Brynn: Chapter 6

It was dark in the forest. Brynn was poking the squirrel that he had started to roast. It was quiet. Too quiet. It was a week since he had left Taurah. He wondered what Rylan was doing. Over the past few days he had realized just how much he enjoyed being around his brother. It was strange not having someone to talk to, even though he wasn’t inclined to be talkative. Brynn turned the squirrel again. Now that he thought of it, he wasn’t really very hungry anyway. He heard a slight rustling in the bushes nearby. Instantly, he was on his feet, his knife ready. He ducked to avoid being hit with a rock that came sailing through the air, whistling past his head. Brynn dove into the bushes and caught the arm of a young man. The boy struggled for a moment, then lay still. Brynn pulled him up, tightly holding onto his arm. For a moment they stood, facing each other. Brynn’s icy blue eyes measured his assailant. He was younger than Brynn, and his brown eyes blazed angrily at him. Brynn didn’t see him as much of a threat. Letting go of his arm, Brynn looked at him suspiciously.

“Who are you and what do you want?” he asked, finally. The boy shook his shaggy blond hair out of his eyes.

“My name is Iathan. And I don’t want anything.” Brynn’s eyebrows shot up.

“Indeed?” He took the squirrel off the fire. “Then why did you throw the rock at me?”
“I didn’t throw it. I used my sling,” Iathan said, superiorly. Amusement shone in Brynn’s eyes.
“It doesn’t really make much of a difference, does it? The point is, you were trying to hit me with the rock, right?” Iathan chose not to answer him. “Anyway, why were you trying to hit me with a rock?”
“I don’t have to tell you,” Iathan said, defiantly.
“Oh?” Brynn asked, putting the meat on a plate. Iathan’s eyes went wide as he watched Brynn. “Hungry?” Iathan nodded, ever so slightly. “Then why don’t you tell me why you were trying to hurt me? Then we can eat.”
“I … uh … Didn’t want you to give me away. I knew you had heard me move,” Iathan explained, sheepishly.
“Give you away to who?” Brynn asked, casually.
“My uncle. I’m running away,” he confessed. “I’m going to live with my brother, in the city. My uncle forbade me to go, but I told him that I am old enough to think for myself,” he said. “Uncle said I was indebted to him for taking me in, but I have more than repaid him. And I can make my own decisions,” Iathan finished, decidedly. Brynn wisely chose to change the subject.
“Which city are you headed for?”
“Tiras. There’s a fishing port there. It’s near the sea, you know,” he added, absentmindedly.
“I should think it would have to be near the sea for a fishing port,” Brynn replied, laughing. He handed Iathan a tin plate. His appetite had returned, he realized. The boy ate hungrily, and Brynn watched him. “When did you last eat?”
“Yesterday morning. I ran out of provisions,” Iathan explained. “I’m not a very good hunter yet,” he added, ruefully. He was quiet, eating his food. Brynn didn’t say anything. The fire crackled in the silence, and far away Brynn could hear frogs chirping. Iathan looked up suddenly.
“Who are you?” he asked. Brynn chuckled, realizing the boy hadn’t even asked his name.
“My name is Brynn. I’m going to Ketsya,” he answered. Iathan nodded.
“Where do you come from?”
“A village south of here. It’s called Taurah. My brother lives there,” Brynn replied.
“Why are you leaving?” Iathan persisted.
“My brother got married. I used to live with him, but the cabin is really his. So I’m off to Ketsya to join the rest of my family.”
“My three brothers live in Tiras. The older two never lived with my uncle, but the other, Jotham, used to. It’s him I’m going to join. He left two years ago, and I haven’t seen him since. He sent me a letter, telling me to join him two weeks ago. I left after a couple days and have been on the road ever since. Do you have a big family?”
Brynn thought of his parents and sister.
“No, just my sister and my father and mother. I haven’t seen them for almost three years now.”
Iathan was quiet for moment, thinking. He looked up, his brown eyes questioning.
“Brynn, the road to Tiras runs through Ketsya. Would you like to accompany me that far?”
“Why not? It would be nice to have some company. We’ll depart tomorrow at dawn. Which means we’d better hit the sack,” Brynn said.

ʊʊʊʊʊʊ

Later that night, Brynn was still awake, staring up at the stars. They were tiny silver points, shining out of a blue-black sky. He could glimpse them between the leaves of the trees overhead. He picked out familiar stars: Svea, Bornon, and his favorite, Erasqil. Erasqil had existed for ages; it was the oldest star. It twinkled, sending short rays of light around its circumference.

Brynn’s mind wandered to the conversation he had had with Iathan. They had talked about his family. He missed them, he realized. Especially his sister, Alva. The three siblings had been close when they were younger. Brynn remembered Alva. How people had been deceived by her quiet appearance, her shiny brown hair and green eyes. Underneath her docile exterior, Alva was quick thinking and lively. He recalled the numerous pranks she had played on him, inspired, of course, by Rylan’s expertise in that area. How she wasn’t afraid to speak her mind, ever. No, Alva would only be described as “quiet” by those who did not know her. Brynn smiled in the darkness, ready to see his little sister again.

It was almost dawn when Brynn woke up. The sky was gray, streaked with orange and pink clouds. Iathan was still sleeping. Brynn laid a hand on his shoulder, trying to wake him up. The next moment, a hand shot up and hit him squarely on the jaw. Iathan was awake as soon as his hand made contact. He stared at Brynn, who was holding his jaw and grimacing.
“Do you always do that?”
Iathan grinned apologetically.
“Sorry. Reflexes I guess.”
Brynn shook his head and started breakfast.

ʊʊʊʊʊʊ

The two ate breakfast and packed their things, then hit the road. Iathan easily matched Brynn’s steady stride, and they made good progress. Brynn silently studied the boy as they walked. He was probably seventeen or eighteen. He was tanned and his hair was light blond from working in the sun. There was something slightly defiant about the way he walked, Brynn thought. His companion proved to be good-natured, however. Iathan told Brynn about his many escapades as they walked.
“Once, Jotham and I were-” Brynn cut him off suddenly, raising his hand for silence. He stood, listening intently. Iathan watched him, concerned. Quietly, Brynn crept among the low-lying bushes, back the way they had come. A few moments later, he returned to Iathan.
“I think we’re being followed. Would your uncle still be looking for you after two weeks?” he asked.
“I doubt it. He’s a lazy man. Besides, he still has his two sons to help him,” Iathan replied, firmly. Brynn raised his eyebrows, puzzled.
“Well, someone is still following us. I have no idea why. Let’s try to lose them in the next village. We need supplies anyway,” Brynn decided. Iathan nodded his assent. They continued on, both aware of sounds behind them, but not looking back.
Soon they reached the village of Lumra. It was very similar to Taurah, almost the same size, but there seemed to be more people around. Iathan went to buy food while Brynn went to the blacksmith’s to get his sword and knives sharpened. He had brought his little-used sword from Taurah in poor shape. He had decided to seize the opportunity to get it fixed up. They agreed to meet at the town square in half an hour.
“There ye are,” the blacksmith said, handing Brynn his weapons. He gave Brynn a queer look with his shifty blue eyes. Brynn paid him and headed off to join Iathan, wondering why the man was so suspicious. There was some kind of gathering in the Square. He was pressed into the throng of jostling, shoving, and babbling men and women. It was unclear what was going on. A little man on a platform was trying in vain to talk to the crowd. Brynn was pushed into a rotund man in a brown coat. He murmured an apology to the man, who gave him an annoyed glare and then turned his back on him. Brynn struggled to free himself of the mob; he was almost out of it when a shout pierced the air.
“I’ve been robbed! Stop thief!” It was the man in the brown coat. He searched the crowd, his eyes rested on Brynn, an accusing finger pointed in his direction. “There he is! Get him! He’s a thief!” Faces turned toward Brynn. He barely realized what was happening before he was grabbed by two men. A woman shrieked.
“It’s Zasur the Wolf! It’s the Wolf!” she was saying, excitedly. Murmurs rippled through the crowd to Brynn’s ears.
“The Wolf!”
“Is it really him?”
“It’s Zasur! Mercy on us!”
Brynn finally came to his senses. He turned to the men who were holding him.
“Look. I’m not a thief. You can search me. I have nothing that belongs to this man. I’m not the Wolf.”
“Funny you would say that. I’d sure expect the Wolf to come right out and say that he is who he is,” one of them said sarcastically.
“Besides,” the other added, “you’re his spittin’ image. Come on, to the jailhouse with ya.” Brynn struggled free, hitting one of the men and kicking the other. His fight was in vain, however; he was soon grabbed by more men. They began to drag him to the jailhouse. Through the crowd he thought he glimpsed Iathan’s confused face. It disappeared into the sea of moving faces.
Brynn was thrown into a cellar, which seemed to serve as the jailhouse. The door above was bolted and the window was secured with iron bars. He leaned grimly against the clay wall, a plan already forming in his mind.

Twins: Chapter 5

The packhorse’s feet dragged in the mud. Clip, slide … clop, slide. The mud was now on the edge of unbearable.
Both Gavin and Ellyn had their hoods drawn and their thick, midnight blue cloaks wrapped tightly around them. The temperature dropped about the same time the thunderstorm had begun to follow them. Ellyn was quiet, tired, and thoroughly soaked. Her cloak, thick as it was, was of little use against the forces of Nature. The only noise she made was when she sneezed.
The path they were on was small and wound through a forest heavily crowded with ferns and undergrowth that reached out with spindly hands on to the trail.
Gavin was uneasy about the fact that they were in a forest during a thunderstorm, and soon he realized that Ben, the packhorse, shared his feelings. The thunder made the old horse jumpy, and the lighting caused him to be thoroughly spooked. Ignoring Gavin, who held his reins, Ben turned around and nearly trampled over Ellyn.
The twin acted quickly. Grabbing the reins from Gavin, Ellyn brought her face up to Ben’s, putting one hand over his mane. She looked at him, not making direct eye contact, but staring at the side of his face. Ten seconds passed, the only sound being the rush of rain on the wet leaves and soft, soggy ground. Then, slowly and submissively, Ben turned his head and followed Ellyn back to Gavin. She handed the reins back to her twin and sneezed. Gavin looked at her in utter shock. His hood had done little to protect his head. Wet hair clung to his skin in thin, dark strands, and water ran in droplets down the sides of his face. “How …”
Ellyn shrugged, and they went on quietly. The ground looked and felt like a giant sponge that their feet made little imprints in. Although they were starving, there was no way the twins could get out food without soaking everything in the sack. Supper passed uneaten.
“We should be able to make it to the next town before nightfall,” Gavin called to his sister, his voice barely rising above the downpour. It was meant for encouragement, but helped little. She nodded, sneezed, and sighed, pulling her hood further up.
Another hour or two passed, but neither one counted the time. The rain very slowly let up, and by the time Gavin and Ellyn reached the tavern it was only a drizzle and getting late. It was foggy out, so the twins did not bother to put their hoods down. They left Ben at the tavern stables and then entered.
Although there were few travelers in the country, many people went to the taverns for a mug of beer and conversation. The room was crowded, and Gavin and Ellyn pushed their way through to the counter. The man there gave them a room with two beds. He winked at Gavin. “A bit young for you, ain’t she?”
Ellyn’s mouth opened and closed. For once she was speechless.
“Come on,” Gavin grabbed her hand and dragged her away. They found their room and went in, setting their things down.
It was small, with a table, two chairs, a candle-stand, and two small beds. After eating something from what they had packed, the exhausted twins each took a bed and were quickly lost to sleep.

Gavin opened one eye. Where was he? Everything was unfamiliar. Slowly, memories of the past day flooded back to him. Gavin groaned and sat upright. So it hadn’t been a bad dream after all. He stood up and went over to Ellyn’s bed, tapping her on the shoulder. She rolled over and stuck her pillow over her head.
Gavin rolled his eyes. “Come on,” he grabbed her pillow and shook her.
“Fine, I admit, you are stupid and I should be older,” Ellyn mumbled. She grabbed her pillow back and promptly fell asleep.
Gavin sighed. Sleep talking again. She always insulted him in her sleep. He grabbed her hand and squeezed it, shaking it at intervals.
“The hills … roving … must not break the poor feet …”
“Ellyn!”
“What?” she was wide-awake in an instant, sitting upright in bed.
“Time to go.”
“Oh.” Ellyn stood, ran her fingers through her hair, and put her cloak on. “Let’s just eat while we travel,” she said.
They went out to the stables, put their things back on Ben, and led him out to the road. The small town was quite busy at sunrise, so it took the twins longer than expected to push through the village and continue following the dirt road from there.
It led through a sunny meadow, fresh with the smell of the early morning dew mingled with the scent of wildflowers and thistle. The cool breeze rushed over long, golden grass like cold water over smooth pebbles, flowing over Gavin and Ellyn in a wonderfully overwhelming way. There were few bugs, only the crickets chirping in the thicket and monarchs and midnight-blue swallowtails moving quietly from flower to flower.
Ellyn left the road and lay down in the grass, staring up at the watery blue sky. “Can we not just stay here for the day?” she sighed longingly.
Gavin was almost as reluctant as she was to leave. He sat by her and they were both silent for a few minutes. Finally, however, Gavin stood and lent a hand to his sister. “The journey will be long,” he said as he took Ben’s reins, “and we have little time to waste.”

They must have been walking for hours on the deserted road. The weather was nice, and there was always a slight, cool breeze that kept them refreshed. However, the twins both had cramped legs and reopening blisters that put a damper on their spirits. They soon came to another meadow, girded by trees, and found a strange sight. A caravan sat in the middle of the meadow – consisting of about twenty people, ranging in age from at least one to fifty, and they sat beside a large wagon that was halfway covered. All of them sat around a large fire with which they used to roast a pig. By their apparel, Gavin assumed them to be gypsies. He knew not whether to approach or run. Would they be friendly?
Ellyn solved the problem by marching resolutely forward to announce herself.

Erath: Chapter 4

The man they called Nicksin was the only person aboard the entire ship that bothered to take any hint of an interest in Erath. After the newcomer had been released from a few days of solitary confinement with only water to live on, Nicksin had shoved a hunk of something that felt hard and stale into Erath’s hand. However, he wolfed the food and washed it down with water to take the taste away. It did not, but he had been famished. And weak. After he had been unchained from the wall, Erath barely had enough strength to stand, let alone walk and climb out of the hold. It took him a quarter of an hour for to climb out of the hold without his head spinning, and longer to get to the galley where he could find food. All the while, his anger boiled as he noticed that some of the crew were watching his slow progress, yet not helping him when he would collapse. .
He sat on one of the benches, wishing he could have more food. Nicksin had already eaten his ration and was looking intently at Erath’s face. Although he had only been without food a few days, it had definitely left its mark on him. Already, his face was yellow and his cheeks were sunken in. His body that was once filled out finely was much thinner than before. His right wrist was caked with dried blood – evidence he had tried many a time to escape.
“How ya’ doing, lad?” Nicksin asked, nudging him good-naturedly.
Erath jerked away with a sour complexion. “Don’t touch me,” he growled.
“The chain didn’t do anythin’ for you, then? Didn’t calm that fire down, that’s for sure,” he added under his breath.
“I hate ‘im for doing it,” Erath said, unconsciously beginning to use the slang.
“Who?”
“The captain. He chains me up to a wall for a few days, meanin’ to starve me to death, then he lets me free when I’m at its door. ‘E just wants to watch me suffer, that’s what. Well I won’t let ‘im,” he said, slapping his knee. “I’ll show him I don’t break so easily.”
“Looks like you almost did,” Nicksin joked.
Erath leapt to his feet enraged and grabbed at Nicksin’s collar, dragging him from his seat.
“That what you think, eh?” he snarled, not six inches from his face.
“Well let me tell you something. I don’t want to hear any of what you have to say. What do you know? You’re a rag-tag sailor who’s known nothin’ but the sea.”
“What do you have to back yourself up with? A fishin’ line?” Nicksin retorted.
The few men that had gathered around the two chuckled softly.
Erath turned a nasty, angry face towards them that silenced them. He turned back to Nicksin and with a shove that sent him back to his bench, let go of his collar and walked away to the forecastle. His head was swimming from the sudden movement he had made and he did not want to pass out before the crew.
He was not lonely, for he was accustomed to being friendless. With the sour attitude he constantly wore, no lad his age dared cross his path. But Erath wasn’t always like that. He used to be happy and joyful as a child, until his mother died and his father had turned bad. Dareth used to be a rather fat and jolly man until his wife’s death. Then he took to his work. At times he would be gone fishing for days without returning. Because Erath had to work too to make money, he had to go along whenever his father went out fishing. The horrible attitude Dareth had rubbed off a little on his son, then when Erath did a poor job with the lines he would beat him at home. Erath did all he could to avoid his father, and because he did not have any friend to confide his troubles to, he bottled the anger inside until it eventually started boiling into a continuous anger that never went away.
Ratline sauntered in. He was a seaman, and so agile among the ropes that he had earned the nickname. Erath had already taken a keen disliking to him. He closed his eyes, pretending to sleep. Hopefully, Ratline wouldn’t notice him and would walk away. His hopes were dashed as he heard the whining voice address him.
“Cap’n says yur’ to be part ‘a’ my watch. Said ya’ prolly’ wouldn’t know what times those were, so they’re from e’lle’n to three at night. I’ll be comin’ to wake ya’ up on the first two nights, but after that, yur’ on yur’ own.”
Erath nodded.
“But ya’ got’ta learn ‘ow to climb the ropes so you can do it at night. C’mon.” He tugged on the edge of Erath’s hammock.
Erath rolled out of it and followed Ratline to the deck. His back had healed, and he felt he could climb the ropes fine. Surprisingly, his sour attitude turned a bit brighter as he walked about the deck, the warm breeze off the sea pouring over him like water. He took a deep breath and leaned over the rail to look out across the sea. All there was for his eyes to meet were blue; blue sky, blue water.
“C’mon, lad,” Ratline said again. “Into the riggings.”
Erath’s good mood was crushed with Ratline’s droning voice. He dragged his gaze from off the water and followed the seaman up the rope ladder of the mainmast.

Within two weeks aboard the Freedom, Erath had become almost as agile in the riggings as Ratline. He spent all the time he could climbing them, doing anything to get away from the crew. They were a nasty group, hardly worth the name of Navy seamen. The Freedom hardly even looked like a Navy vessel. Maybe at one time it did, but those glory days were long gone.
Erath discovered how he had been taken aboard the Freedom too. Nicksin and another sailor were talking about him, saying he had been pressed into the Navy. He found that out near midnight his second week at sea while he was on watch. They had been talking together in low voices at the helm.
“The lad was pressed eh?” the seaman asked.
“Aye, while he was walking down an alley.”
“What sort of lad was he?”
“Ah, from what I could tell, he was a fisherman’s son, on the poorer side of things. No education.”
The other man started scratching his head. “Now, how long was it you followed ‘im?”
“Hard to say,” Nicksin replied. “Long enough to get a good idea where he goes after fishin’ and where the most vulnerable places in the town were to get ‘im.”
Erath’s eyebrows shot up as he heard that. He had been followed? How ignorant was he?
He did not care to hear anymore of that conversation, so he slipped as quietly away from the men as he could, hoping they would not see him.

If Erath was not in the riggings, eating his rations, or sleeping, he was learning how to make the different knots. He had taken a liking to them and their complicated ways. Often when he was angry, he would take a line and run up into the riggings to sit on the foreroyal yard and tie knots, then untangle them, hence his skill in knot tying.
Although he was learning the ways of the ship, he was not learning how to gain favor with the captain. Erath had learned well not to anger him, for the fury of the captain was insatiable. It did not matter to Erath what the captain’s name was; he never bothered to learn it, and always referred to him as “Cap’n.”
As the weeks dragged by, Erath quickly picked up the sailor’s ways of speaking, acting, and even their sauntering gait. No one could have told he was a newcomer aboard the Freedom, for even his clothes were as tattered as his mate’s. He fitted in with them all right, but he wanted desperately to get off. However, it looked impossible for him to escape, or even resign without having the Navy call it desertion. If he did desert though, he could live a free life – so long as he did not come under the Court Marshall’s radar. And if that happened, he could be hanged. Without any kind of fair trial.
Risky as it seemed, the idea appealed to Erath. Then one day, his chance came.

Brynn: Chapter 3

Brynn wasn’t hearing this. Was Rylan playing a joke? If so, it wasn’t very funny.

“I’m sorry to spring it on you all of a sudden,” Rylan was saying. Brynn started paying attention again. When Rylan said he wanted to discuss something with him, Brynn was always eager to listen to his older brother. He was flattered by the idea that Rylan would even ask him about things, but this was definitely taking it too far.

“You’re not serious, right? I mean, you are joking, aren’t you?” Brynn finally asked. His brother’s reputation as a practical joker caused him to be wary when Rylan was talking about anything as serious and ridiculous as this. But no, he could see it in Rylan’s eyes, he was telling the truth. Rylan laughed.

“Ah, little brother, you forget that I am older than you! Do you think it so impossible?” he questioned.

“No, of course not, I just …” His voice trailed off. “I was not expecting it so soon.” Rylan’s face became serious again.

“You don’t mind, do you, old chap?” he asked earnestly.

Suddenly it was all clear to Brynn how much this meant to his brother. He forced his happiest smile and answered, “Of course not. I wish you all the best. I think I’d better skin that rabbit before I forget about it.”

Before his brother could reply Brynn was out the door into the dusky evening. The sun had not quite set; it was casting gray shadows over the forest floor. Outside, Brynn tried to clear his mind. Rylan was getting married? It had been obvious to Brynn that Rylan would get around to it someday. But he hadn’t expected it so soon.

He absentmindedly began to skin the rabbit. He and Rylan were hunters; they hunted all day and sometimes into the night, then sold the pelts and meat in the nearby village of Taurah. For almost three years they had lived and worked together in their cabin. It was a quiet life; they didn’t have many neighbors and only went to the village once or twice a week. It hadn’t always been that way, though.

Brynn and Rylan had lived with their parents and sister in Taurah most of their lives. However, the year Brynn turned sixteen, his uncle had come to visit them. He remembered the day clearly. Uncle Nevin had come and spoken to his father for a long time. Father had worn that thoughtful look all through supper that night. And after Brynn’s sister, Alva, had gone to bed, Uncle Nevin had explained it all to their mother and the boys. Uncle Nevin was a merchant, and he wanted Father to become his business partner. He was no good at accounting, he said, he must have Father’s help. It was a good job, but it meant leaving Taurah and the forest. It was Rylan who had spoken up.

“It sounds like a good place for you, Father,” he had said. “But not for me. I should like to stay here near Taurah. I can earn my living as a hunter and live in the forest,” he said, warming to the idea. His parents weren’t surprised. Rylan had always been mature, but willful. At eighteen, he was old enough to start making his own decisions.

Brynn, loathing the idea of leaving his older brother behind, begged to stay too. His mother and father had been hesitant to let him. But Rylan had taken up the cause and argued that Brynn could help him and they could live together. After some halfhearted protests, his parents agreed to let Brynn stay too. After all, they had grown up here and loved the forest like their sons. It didn’t seem fair to pluck them away from the freedom the forest provided and set them down in the city.

But now, Brynn thought gloomily, I shall have to go to the city after all. Rylan was going to marry Maura and settle down. She was a nice sort of girl, Brynn allowed, but that didn’t make it any easier to leave. The cabin belonged to Rylan, as the eldest son. There was no question in Brynn’s mind; he would have to go. He sighed at the mere thought of the city. The boys had been to visit their family only once in the past three years. Brynn had been disgusted with the poverty as soon as he had entered walked through the gates. It was too close and cramped for Brynn. He liked to be out in the woods and he treasured solitude. That was why their arrangement had been so perfect, he realized. They spent most of the day out in the woods, hunting. Usually they went off by themselves and then returned to the cabin as the sun was setting. Rylan’s company and the trips to town provided enough companionship to suit him, Brynn thought. And now it all had to change. He was uncomfortable just thinking of the city. He tried to focus on the rabbit, but his mind wandered.

I’ll probably have to find a job of some sort; the city is no place for a hunter, he thought crossly. Why did life have to change? He knew the thought was childish. Of course life changes! Pull yourself together and take it like a man, Brynn told himself. He was sick of thinking about it. Abruptly, he put the rabbit down and began cleaning his tools. With his work completed, Brynn returned to the cabin. The sun was nearly gone, only an orange sliver was visible through the trees. His brother was writing in a book at the table when Brynn pushed the door open. Rylan opened his mouth to say something, but seemed to think better of it and stopped. Brynn didn’t look up, pretending not to notice. He wasn’t quite sure he could meet Rylan’s eyes without revealing his resentment. He carefully restrung his bow and prepared his things for the next day. Rylan hummed quietly, still writing. Brynn picked up his mandolin and moodily plucked out a melancholy tune, sitting in the doorway. Rylan remained oblivious to his brother’s attitude.

“Guess I’ll be turning in,” he commented cheerfully, closing his book. Brynn didn’t answer. He was brooding over his problems. For a brief second, the image of a pouting child flashed through his mind. He stood up suddenly, shaking off his dismal thoughts. It was time to get some rest. He would worry about things later on.

ʊʊʊʊʊʊ

Brynn groaned the next morning as sunlight poured into the cabin. He stretched sleepily, blinking. Rylan was sitting on the bed across the room, pulling on his boots.

“Good morning, little brother! Sleep well?” he asked. He was rarely this cheerful in the morning. The fact that he was even awake was startling. Brynn cocked an eyebrow at him, skeptically.

“You feel alright? Since when do you not need to be dragged out of bed?” he asked. Rylan just laughed.

“Hungry? I cooked some ham.” Rylan seemed very proud of himself. Brynn laughed at him.

“Good for you. I’m sure Maura will be very glad to know she’s marrying a man who can cook ham. I know that’s a very important skill to have. Still, I’ll have to taste it before you are off the hook for cooking lessons,” he said, with mock seriousness. Rylan threw a pillow at him and went to get his ham.

All the gloomy thoughts of the previous night were behind Brynn. It was a new day, things looked hopeful. Perhaps the city wouldn’t be so bad after all - he might even come to like living there. He whistled as he gathered his equipment. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and the forest looked lovely and green. It was going to be a good day, Brynn decided. Rylan handed him a plate of ham. Brynn took a bite.

“How delightful! This is the most sumptuous, most savory, most delicious ham I have ever tasted! How marvelously you have cooked it!” he said dramatically. Rylan chose to ignore him.

“What are you going after today?” he asked. Brynn shrugged noncommittally.

“Whatever I can get. Seems there’s been a shortage of deer lately. Oh, I’ll be taking those pelts and that brace of rabbits into town this afternoon. Anything you need me to get for you?”

“No, nothing you can get, but you could take my boots to the cobbler’s and have them repaired,” Rylan replied. Brynn nodded, finishing his breakfast. He took up his bow and quiver and tucked his knife into his belt. He placed another knife in his right boot, then headed out the door, waving to Rylan.

Brynn headed off into the woods, in no particular direction. After a bit, he came to a small clearing and settled down in the bushes to wait. He easily blended into the scenery in his green tunic and brown pants. His ice blue eyes were alert, watching and waiting. He was ready to stay in the same position for the next half an hour if need be. It was one of the first things he had learned when he started hunting. Self-control and patience were essential. He had been watching for only a few minutes when a doe entered the clearing, followed by twin fawns. Brynn crouched, motionless and enraptured. The doe began to eat, keeping one eye on her young as they scampered about, playfully. Brynn knew he was having a weak moment. He remembered when he was younger, how he had shot a mother like this one. The fawn had whimpered pitifully when his mother fell, then run off, terrified, when Brynn had collected his kill.

Since then, he had had trouble killing animals with young. He had repeatedly told himself to toughen up, that it was the way of life. But he still often let them go, when he had the choice. He made a loud movement as he reached for his bow. The trio ran off, startled. Brynn smiled, pleased with himself. He still had plenty of time to catch something before midday.

Brynn returned to the cabin with a fox and a wild turkey at midday. Gray clouds were starting to pile up, but he was preoccupied with getting the rabbits to take to town. He put them in a rough sack, and then the pelts in another, with Rylan’s worn boots on top. It was a lot to carry, but he was strong and he was accustomed to physical labor. Then he set off down the old road leading to Taurah.

ʊʊʊʊʊʊ

Half an hour later, Brynn was flicking wet hair out of his face. He was wading through the mud that the road had dissolved into, trying to see through the sheets of rain pouring down around him. The storm had come up suddenly, one moment he was walking through a refreshing mist, the next he was floundering through torrents of water. He had neglected to wear his cloak; as a result his clothes were drenched. He was nearly to the village; there he would be able to seek shelter somewhere. Anywhere, he thought, to get out of this mess.

He finally made it to the butcher shop. The butcher was a large, red-faced man named Dutch. He wiped his hands on a messy apron when Brynn entered his shop.

“Well, well, ye showed up with them rabbits, eh? How many?” he asked, his voice resounding like a drum. Brynn dropped his sack on the counter.

“Five. That’s twenty silver coins,” Brynn reminded him. Dutch took the sack, opened it, and examined the contents. He muttered to himself while Brynn waited patiently. A little puddle was collecting around his feet from the rain. Dutch finally gave a satisfied grunt.

“The bargain is acceptable,” he assented, sliding a pouch of coins across the counter to Brynn. Brynn opened the pouch to check the money - you could never be too sure. He counted it silently.

“Reckon you’ll be movin’ around, now that Rylan’s getting married an’ all,” the butcher commented. Brynn looked up at him.

“Yes, I will be going to Ketsya soon. But Rylan will still bring you his game, I’m sure.”

“Well, good. I hope ye find the city air to yer liking. Never was one for city folks, myself, but then, everyone’s different! So long then,” Dutch called, as Brynn left. As a matter of fact, I’m not one for city folks either, Brynn said to himself, wryly. His next stop was the cobbler’s. Aron took the boots from him gently.

“Let’s see now, the heel’s worn through, needs a patch here …” the soft-spoken man was talking half to himself, half to Brynn. “This’ll only take a minute,” he informed Brynn. “Here, sit down by the fire. Wet day to be out walking, isn’t it?” he inquired. Brynn took the offered seat.

“Believe me, it was not my choice.” Aron nodded, busily getting out his needle and thread. He was a small man, quiet, but friendly.

“How’s Rylan doing? I heard he and Maura are engaged. Happy news, happy news. Good to see the young folks settling down,” he said. “Where are you going to go, Brynn? You know, there’s a house for rent here in Taurah.”

“I thought I’d go to Ketsya, where my family is. I really don’t think I could afford the rent, anyway.”

“Ah, Ketsya, the great city. Marvelous place. The shops line the streets, selling silks and satins of every color. And the smells! Spices fill the air, and the smell of roasting hatter-nuts! And there are grand folks in fine clothes, riding on great horses! They live in palaces with embroidered curtains and eat off of gold dishes. Ah yes, Ketsya is a fabulous place. You’ll be happy there, Brynn,” Aron finished. Brynn had seldom seen the cobbler so enthusiastic.

“Yes, but I will also see the people who have no money for fine clothes. The beggars who have no homes and no food, the little children with nothing to eat,” he replied, cynically. Aron didn’t quite know what to make of Brynn’s comments. Surely no one could be sad about living in such a grand place? He handed Brynn the boots, neatly mended. Brynn gave him a couple of coins.

“Farewell, Aron. Perhaps we will meet again before I depart,” he said. Aron nodded, still speechless.

ʊʊʊʊʊʊ

The wedding was over. Rylan and Maura were married and Brynn was leaving. It was mid-afternoon; there was still plenty of time before the sun set. His pack upon his shoulders, Brynn quietly collected the rest of his things. Rylan and Maura were still celebrating with their friends; the little cabin was empty. Brynn laid a note to Rylan on the table; he felt obliged to say goodbye somehow, since he was leaving unexpectedly. He took one last look around at the familiar place, then closed the door gently. Still wrapped up in his thoughts, he walked swiftly through the forest. He had reached the road. He stood there for a moment looking at the signs. One way led back to Taurah, the other, to Ketsya. Not looking back, Brynn strode quickly down the road toward Ketsya.

Ellyn and Gavin: Chapter 2

Gavin sat by the window at a small, square oak table. He sighed, dropping the worn quill pen back into the ink bottle, and gazed out of the window. It was early morning, and he had already been up an hour due to a sleepless night. He was using his work as a way to escape from his thoughts. And it wasn’t helping.
Gavin stood, stretched, and went into the kitchen. His mother was already gone at work. She was the head cook for some rich family that Gavin knew nothing about in the fairly large village they lived in. The job paid well – at least well enough to pay off taxes and get an education for her two children. As far as Gavin could tell, his family lived a completely normal life, and he hoped it would stay that way. It was considered “strange” for anyone to travel much or have adventures. Everyone in the small country of Elindin was laid-back and comfortable with whatever they had. Well, not everyone.

Ellyn came running down the stairs - running as usual. She always seemed to be running. The only way she and Gavin could relate to each other was the fact that they were twins, nothing more than that. In everything else they were strictly opposite. While Gavin was laid-back and never wanting anything more than a quiet life and a suitable home, Ellyn was never content with one thing. She was always moving, and would start things and never finish them. Their mother was constantly asking Gavin to come and finish something his sister had left out, and he would silently go and do it. He did not mind doing things for people when they asked, even if they were bossy, since he didn’t really see the difference so long as it got done.

Seventeen year-old Ellyn came rushing into the room. In her haste she had not bothered with her long, deep red hair. The only similarity in looks for Gavin and Ellyn were their soft grey eyes. Ellyn had taken after their father with her red hair, and Gavin’s dark brown hair had come from their mother. But Ellyn did look like their mother in some ways. She was slim and pretty, with fair skin.
“Did I miss mother?” Ellyn asked, breathing heavily.
“By two hours,” Gavin replied.
“Oh!” her tone was more than annoyed. “I wanted to ask her about father.”
“I do not think your strategy will work,” Gavin commented.
“But it has to! If I ask her every morning how he died, she will have to tell me sometime.” Ellyn took out fresh, homemade bread and began to butter a thick slice furiously.
“Face it,” Gavin looked over at her. “You have been asking her every single morning for over a year now.”
“I have not been able to ask her for a month!”
“Which is only because she has been gone so early.”
“Exactly.”
Gavin turned to Ellyn. “Why do you think she has taken to leaving before you are up?” he asked in a “you should know this by now – take the hint” voice.
Ellyn sighed. “I just don’t understand why she will not explain how father died. It happened when we were six! Surely she must have gotten over it by now.”
“It probably was not a very respectable then,” said Gavin.
“I still think we have the right to know,” Ellyn retorted grumpily.

Gavin shrugged and went back to the window, sitting down and looking out at the street. Ellyn came over and sat down across from him. She propped her head up and stared at her twin with intense grey eyes. Finally Gavin turned to her. “What are you doing?”
“Trying to read your mind. I paid some guy a fortune to predict my fate at the market. All he did was stare at me for five minutes without blinking and then say he saw a hermit and a horse in my future.”
Gavin shook his head. “Did you get your money back?”
“No. And I did not tell mother, either," her mood switched from upset to frusterated. "But I cannot understand it! I tried all my persuasive tactics on him to get back my money, and none of them worked.”
Gavin was surprised. Ellyn could always get what she wanted. He sighed and stood. Ellyn was not helping to lessen his headache. She only acted this crazy and random when she got up late – which meant it would be a trying day.
“Are you still thinking about leaving?” Ellyn asked. Her tone was softer.
Gavin shrugged. “It is hard not to,” he said.
“I cannot understand why you are so reluctant about going. We can finally get away from this boring place!”
“Ellyn, you know me. I changes.”
“Well I think we could both use some changes right now – like it or not. What can you do with your life here anyway? If we go, we can actually learn a new trade and make money!”
“We?” Gavin asked.
“You know what I mean. And you wouldn’t dare tell mother. She will be worrying enough about us.”
Gavin sighed again. He had never planned on telling their mother, not because Ellyn had bullied him into it, but because he knew just like she did that their mother would be worrying.

The situation was simple. Gavin’s uncle was very rich, and his mother felt it was time that Gavin learned a trade. So she was sending him to a different country where his uncle lived so that he could learn the trade and make good money. And, not wanting Ellyn to be alone in the house all day, his mother decided to send Ellyn with him to live in her uncle’s house so she could get an idea of proper life.
Ellyn’s hopes were opposed to this. She was glad to leave, but her plans were to somehow learn the trade with Gavin without their mother knowing. Gavin knew that was what Ellyn wanted – and he also knew that telling their mother probably would not change anything due to Ellyn’s strong will.
The worst of it was they were leaving the next day, and Gavin was not prepared for it. He d traveling, and wouldn’t know what to do if anything dangerous came up. True, he was a quick thinker, but not quick to defend himself.

“Will you stop sighing?” Ellyn brought Gavin back to reality.
“Sorry.” He went over to the fireplace and took a book from the shelf beside it. Orien – Gavin’s hero. It was all about a man who won battles without fighting – only trickery and wit. He and Gavin were alike in that way.

The rest of the day went by uneventfully. Gavin read, and went with his sister to the marketplace to get food for the journey. The rest of his time was spent packing. By suppertime, he had finished deciding what few things he would bring to put on the packhorse. Ellyn, surprisingly, had finished much faster than he had. She prided herself in traveling lightly. Their mother had been let off work to be able to spend time with them that night, although supper went by quietly.

Gavin was silent, still having trouble taking his mind off of the next day. Ellyn, on the other hand, was so excited about it that she could barely even talk. And their mother was so tired that she had trouble starting up a conversation.
“Have you told many people about the journey?” asked Gavin dejectedly.
His mother shook her head. “You know what people would think if I told them,” she brushed straight brown hair out of her eyes and began clearing the plates. “You would be the talk of the town for a month.”
Gavin groaned, and Ellyn smiled.
“I am sure you will both be fine,” she said encouragingly, though nothing would change Gavin’s view of things.
“Mother, how did -” Ellyn began.
“No,” her mother cut her off firmly. She then sighed. “I hope your going to Nathaniel’s will teach you to act more like a lady.”
“I could care less,” Ellyn murmured.
“Anyway,” Serena changed the subject. “I will give you a map, although you should not have much trouble getting there. There are inns every night along the way up until you reach the border. From there there is a fairly long trail, with different villages every few days,” Gavin had heard this at least one hundred times.
“Your Uncle Nathaniel lives in a wealthy city,” Serena continued, “called Tiras. His house will be easy to locate if you ask the people there.” That was another thing Gavin d: talking with strangers. He was sure Ellyn would have no trouble with it though.
“Now to bed with you both. You must get an early start tomorrow.”
Gavin and Ellyn got up, kissed their mother goodnight, and went to their rooms. Neither one could sleep.

Erath: Chapter 1

It was raining. Hard. Erath’s leather shoes were soaked from the muddy streets. He stomped through the old, rundown town with his baggy pants rolled down over his shoes as a vain attempt to protect the various and sensitive cuts along his legs. Once again, he had proved how inefficient he was with the fishing hooks today. His father had been boiling mad when Erath’s mistakes had made them lose a small swordfish. It could have made them quite a few silver coins. Erath knew his father would beat him again just as soon as he got home. But that would be in a long while, for he was trying to stay away from his house until his father would calm down.
Although Erath was only nineteen summers, his buzzed black hair, dark eyebrows, and striking blue eyes made him look much older. However, unlike others, he was never mistaken for his father, who was much taller – a giant of the town – and had mottled brown hair. Mottled, meaning there were patches of mud that had crusted into his locks because he never washed.
Erath decided to walk down an overshadowed alleyway. It was even darker in there than it was outside of it because of the overhanging rubbish. Footsteps echoed behind him, but he hardly noticed. Dozens of townspeople walked through alleys every day; they were much shorter than taking the rutted and muddy roads.
From that day forward though, he would learn to make sure he knew who’s footsteps followed him. A strong arm suddenly curled itself around his neck, and the next moment Erath felt a sharp blow on the back of his head. The arm released its hold on him and he crumpled to the ground, vision fading into blackness.

ж ж ж ж ж

Cold water splashed onto Erath’s face. He sputtered and his eyes flashed open.
“Wake up, you!” someone yelled. “You expectin’ ‘t’ sleep all day?”
Another splash of water was flung in his face. He sputtered again and got up on his elbows, staring bleary-eyed into the pockmarked face of a man. The water felt terrible. A horrible headache was all he could think about at first. Then he tried to ask a question, but his tongue seemed thick, tied down.
At last, he managed to speak. “Where am I?”
“On the Freedom ‘a’ course! Now git’ movin’ or cap’n will ‘ave your head!”
Erath was shoved out of what he took to be a hammock. The floor swayed beneath him, but he was used to being on the ocean. On the ocean! Where am I?
Darting up the ladder, he shot out into the brightness of day and spun round and round, his wide eyes taking in the scene. Three huge masts. White sails, deck, raggedy men. Beyond those and surrounding him on all sides was blue. He was on a ship out on the ocean. It was then that Erath realized he had been shanghaied.
The first sensation he felt was fear. Why had he of all people been shanghaied? He knew it happened every day in his town; men would disappear for years at a time and return as dying sea captains.
He held a hand up to his head, which was pounding now. Where was it from? Oh yes. He remembered. He had been given a smart hit to his head, and was now suffering its consequences.
Just then a monster of a man appeared on deck. His burly tall frame would have been enough to frighten one stiff. Not including his face. A smashed in nose, crooked black teeth, and sunken eyes filled his face. What unnerved Erath the most was that one of the man’s ears had somehow been blown away from its usual place. It looked as if it were sliding down his face. He was the captain. Erath could only tell that by the ill-fitting blue jackets captains wore.
He caught sight of Erath. “All hands on deck!” he bellowed. It was repeated by a middle aged, once-muscular first mate. Within twenty seconds, dozens of men were on the decks surrounding the captain.
Erath backed up a little.
“Boys, we got ourselves a newcomer,” the captain said, rubbing his hands.
A chuckle rustled from the men. Erath’s stomach knotted.
“Bring ‘im forward, men,” the captain said.
Two men from behind suddenly clasped his arms. Erath struggled, but eventually stood before the monstrous captain.
“Since ‘ee’s new, we ought’ta give ‘im a proper welcome. Give ‘im five lashes!”
Several whoops and hoots rose from the crew and two of them tied his arms around the mainmast. A few seconds later, he heard and felt a crack that sent waves of pain shooting over his back. He let out a cry that was almost a yell and tried not to show the tears that sprung up in his eyes. Even though he had been humiliated, his pride would not let him cry and scream like a weak girl.
Another shock of pain rushed into him. Another cry was emitted. Now it was impossible for Erath to contain his tears. There was a pause in the beating. Erath wished they would just keep going and get it over with, not drag it out so his pain could be more pronounced. He was struck again with the whip; three lashes, two to go. Erath bit his lip hard to keep it from trembling. A trickle of blood ran between his teeth. His pride broke as the fourth lash wrapped around his back and hit his chest. He cried out in pain, not caring anymore if the crew laughed. Then the fifth lash curled around him, drawing another cry. Erath stood, with arms hugging the mast, and flushed face, waiting for the men to untie him. But all he heard was a man speaking to the captain.
“Cap’n, he slept in this mornin’. I had to throw water on him ta’ wake ‘im up.”
“Cap’n,” said another man, “that be five more lashes.”
“Give it to ‘im,” the captain ordered.
Erath’s heart sunk, then blazed with hatred at the man who had ordered five more lashes for him.

After what seemed an eternity, Erath was finally untied from the mast. He slunk to the bottom, his shirt torn and bloody. With head leaned against the mast, he let out great sobs of pain while the crew scattered about the ship. Then a gruff hand gripped his shoulders and yanked him up.
He broke away from the man, his shoulders feeling like they were blazing with fire.
“Git’ to work, man,” the first mate said. “Up in the riggings with you! Mainmast! Cap’n wants ya’ to ‘elp Nicksin with the sails. And,” he added, “how good are you with seein’ things?”
Erath did not want to talk to this man, this disgusting, dirty sea rat. But at last he answered the question. “Pretty good.”
“Then Cap’n will want ya’ to go to the crow’s nest and relieve the man up there.”
Erath had a general idea what the crow’s nest was, but he was not about to ask for more clarification. He turned and walked toward the rope ladder going up and started the ascent. His back and shoulders protested loudly against any movement or straining of them, and Erath had to stop several times as he climbed to the highest mast where a thin wiry man was.
“There you are!” he shouted. “Had a good wakin’ up with that eh?”
Erath’s face seemed to be plastered into a scowl by now. “What am I supposed to do?” he said gruffly, still clutching the rope ladder.
“See that down there?” he pointed.
Erath leaned as much as he dared out to look where Nicksin pointed. There was a line in the sail, but it was not a seam line.
“That there is a rip, and you ‘n’ I got’ a’ fix it. I ain’t goin’ down there though. Pricked myself so hard last time wit’ a needle that I hit me bone. You’re goin’ down to sew it up right while I hold the rope steady. Now ‘ere,’” he said, holding up a noose, “you put this around yer’ waist, and I lower you down on it. C’mon, put it on.”
Erath edged out across the beam where Nicksin was sitting. They must have been at least ninety feet above the deck, but Nicksin sat there as nimble and at ease as a cat. He scooted across the timber and tried hard to ignore his pain. When he was sitting next to the thin sailor, he picked up the noose with one hand and slid it over his head. Rays of pain coiled around his torso as the rough rope rubbed against his open wounds. Then after receiving the thick needle and thread, he gingerly lowered himself down the sail. Nicksin anchored himself to the beam and held onto the rope.
Once he reached the hole, Erath realized this would be much harder than it seemed. He looked back up at Nicksin. “I don’t know nothin’ about sewing up a hole this big!” he shouted up. “Wouldn’t it be easier for you to just cut the whole thing loose and do it on the deck?”
“No!” Nicksin shouted back. “How could we put it back up with cut ropes?”
That was definitely not a satisfactory answer to Erath, and he told the man so. Just then he dropped several feet. This startled him badly, but he could not scream. Then the rope went taut again.
“You obey what I tell ya’!” Nicksin yelled. “Or I may just drop rope entirely!”
Erath was pulled back up to where the slit in the sail was. By now his back was a little better, but hardly. Normally when he had been beaten by his father, he was allowed a day of rest to recover from it. But here, where work was constant, he did not know how he could manage it.
The hole looked harder to mend than it was, and Erath soon had the job completed. Then he was slowly lifted back to the royal yard and was heaved onto it. The only way Nicksin could help the weakened young man was to grab his shirt from behind and pull him up, which only aggravated the agony in Erath’s back. He gritted his teeth, trying not to show any of the pain he was writhing in.
“NICKSIN!!” a voice bellowed from below.
“Aye, sir?” he shouted down.
“Git’ down here, and bring the boy with ya’!”
“Aye, Cap’n! C’mon lad, let’s go.”
Nicksin gave Erath a shove. Erath tried to ignore the burning pain and scooted his way to the mainmast. Once he had gotten to the decks, he looked up after Nicksin who was rambling down the rigging as nimbly as a rat down a sewer. He made it to the deck as well, but in half the time Erath had taken.
“What d’you think you were doin’ up there, Nicksin?” the captain spoke loudly. “You could’a taken half that time if you’d a just cut the sail loose and fixed it down ‘ere.”
“I know that, sir,” Nicksin answered, jamming his hands into his holey pockets. “But it was much more fun when I had the lad here do it. You should’a seen ‘im, all red in the face with that rope clutching at his back and makin’ ‘im bleed all the more!” He laughed a second, then remembered his place and ceased, looking down at his dark feet.
But instead of correcting, the captain threw his head back and laughed. “I did see it!” he said. “It was a sight I enjoyed so much I ‘ad to hear it from you!”
There was absolutely no sense in what the captain had just said, but the men around the captain started laughing too – all fake laughs Erath could tell.
It was not so much that he noticed that forced laughter, but he realized he had been made game of. It infuriated him.
“What right have you to kidnap me from my village, whip me for no good reasons, and make fun of me?” he shouted. “I am not to be laughed at, do you hear me?”
The captain sobered a little. After a brief pause, he said, “Boy, I don’t know whether to laugh or have you put in the brig for such language to a captain.” Then after another silence, he decided.

It was nightfall. Erath had been sent to the hold – under guard – and had been given a short chain to attach his right hand to the wall. At first he struggled against it, trying to pull the chain from the wall, then thinking it might burst a hole and drown him, he thought better of it.
This chain had an instant fear in him. He had never been clapped in one before; it was something unpleasantly new. It caged him in, restrained, forbade: all things Erath could not stand. He loved the freedom to do what he wanted and never be told no. But liberty was exactly the opposite of what he would get on the Freedom.
The only bright side was that his left hand had been left free of chains. But he hardly noticed it. All he was concerned about was getting himself away from first the chain, then the ship. But how was he to escape the captain and crew and get to land, wherever that was? He considered stealing maybe a dory, but then his problem was how to get to land? He had no idea where he was going.
Just then his thoughts were broken by an impossibly loud grumbling from his stomach. He had not eaten since two mornings ago.
Erath sat down to stew in his anger. Facing the wall so he could cross his arms, his face contorted into a scowl, he angrily listed all the rotten things about the ship. Its crew was disgusting, the captain was a monster in disguise, the sails were so yellowed and old they hardly looked like Navy sails, and the list went on.
And here, though he did not know it at the time, Erath would stay for several weeks.

Here it is...

Well, here it is! The first chapter will be coming soon. Shae and Amber, feel free to post your first chapters so we can criticize =). I need to work on mine, but I'll post it when it's ready!

Chariss