Post by J.Hollick on Apr 2, 2014 19:34:13 GMT -9
CHAPTER 3
The barrow was loaded with freshly sheared wool, piled high, spilling over yet light. Jane pushed it forward easily, the wood wheel clomping along the cobbled stone. The sun was out, the day hot despite the end of summer approaching quickly. Dom and Bug pushed their own barrows behind her, following her as they pushed through the streets past running children, clomping horses and patrols. Jane paused, held up behind a cart of milk, the glass bottles clanking together with every pull from the donkey.
Jane took the first opportunity to push around. A burst of speed and the three youths outdistanced the slow milk man and were flying down the streets. They arrived at the miller’s and dumped the wool into a large pile.
“Lunch?” Dom asked, his face red from the sun. Bug smiled, his dark green eyes squinting against the bright sunlight. Jane just followed quietly like she usually did.
The summer had passed by in a breeze. Life had been good, days full of hard work but always a warm meal in your belly and a safe place to sleep. Despite Elizabeth’s natural settlement into Refuge life Jane secretly prepared for their run, keeping things stored in the trunk in their room. She had her own pack now, everything inventoried and distributed. A water bottle, a bow, a quiver of arrows. All things she was expected to always carry with her throughout the day. A bit of cotton for fire starting, hempen rope, a square of canvas…
Yet preparing for running away seemed silly now, to Elizabeth at least. That much Jane could tell. Still, better to be prepared. A little flour stolen daily added to a sack beneath the mattress. Spare arrow heads on their way to the armory. She kept it from Elizabeth. Elizabeth, born before The Rising, raised before The Rising and a survivor of The Rising. Who fit so easily back into a society that she had secretly missed.
Yet Jane, born after The Rising and raised after The Rising was a wild child, a teenager who had been raised by blood and dirt and knew nothing else. Who knew that life meant being quiet when you wanted to scream, running when your heart froze and killing when things needed dying. A life of creature comforts was never a life she had experienced. Cold, stiff muscles, stained clothing and skin and constant fear were normal. Jane had never felt so clean in her life, bathing in the river that ran just beyond the eastern wall with the rest of the residents meant that for the first time in years Jane could see her own face reflected on the water.
Small and petite her face had filled out with proper nourishment but was still bony. High cheekbones, dark eyes and a pointy chin. Her hair she could never tame, as short as it was. It styled itself differently after each night of sleep. Her pale skin began to tan after a summer exposed to the sun on the plains. She had burned at first, her skin always protected by the shade of the forest had eventually grown used to the open air of the prairies.
Jane adjusted the bow slung around her back as they hauled the barrows back through the streets, Dom chatting away to a silent Bug. Jane lagged behind, eyes searching the streets. Another Runner was approaching.
“Jane?”
“Yes?”
“Go to the Keep.” Jane eyed him until he turned to head away then glared at his back. She caught up with Dom and Bug as they dropped the barrows off in storage.
“I gotta go to the Keep.”
“All right.” They walked her to the Keep, waiting in the courtyard as she entered the hall.
A young man, his shirt stained with sweat stood to the side. He had tangled brown hair and lively dark eyes. There was no one else but the usual guards and Cassandra. Jane lingered near the door, waiting to be acknowledged. She only saw Cassandra from a distance these days. Apparently her interest in the new citizens faded quickly, something Jane was thankful for.
“Jane this is Brad.” The young, sweaty man shook her hand. Jane wiped the sweat he left behind on her shirt, not thinking. Brad didn’t seem to mind, just shrugged as Jane turned back to Cassandra.
“You’re familiar with the layout of Refuge?”
“Yes. Quite.”
“Good. You’re officially assigned. Brad’s a labourer.”
Jane knew what that meant. Similar to a Runner it meant working wherever you were needed, with the builders or the wood cutters or the masons. Hard work, harder than being a Runner but still easier than life before Refuge. Jane nodded.
“And you’re settling in well? Understanding the rules.”
“They’re not that hard, most make sense.” Jane looked Brad up and down, judging how helpful he might be in a scrap.
“All right. You can leave now.”
Brad followed Jane out, stepping out of the way as Jane was greeted by a rough slap on the back from Dom.
“Assigned I see. Great. Well, our work here is done. We’ll see you at dinner, lunch beckons.” Bug and Dom wandered off. Jane felt saddened slightly to see them leave but chastised herself for it. Friends. Ha! Love makes you weak. She pushed the feelings from her mind.
“Well. Let’s go do something.” Brad looked surprised for a moment at her harsh tone before he began leading the way.
“You been outside these walls since you got here?”
“Not yet.”
“All right. Got everything you need?”
“I think so.”
The main gates were just before them, guards all around.
“All right. Follow me.”
Brad approached the gate. The guards looked him up and down. Knife, bow, quiver, water bottle. They nodded and Brad waited for me. Jane followed through as quickly as Brad and for the first time in a month she faced the world.
The vast plains stretched out before her, the mountains small blue mounds in the distance. A dirt road wandered down towards them, low stone walls waist high marking either side. Wooden fences separated the fields. Most used for fodder. Perfectly straight rows of all types of vegetables covered the north fields and to the south were higher fences for cows and horses. Further north, beyond the fields, a large forest spread north east and a road disappeared into the trees.
“Come.”
The road down from the gates intersected a main road rutted with cart tracks. The intersection took you further west if you chose or north and south. A tower sat at the intersection, archers up high kept watch. Brad waved up, the archers waved back.
Brad followed the northern road and they trod past the vegetable fields, farmers bent over in the afternoon sun were ripping up weeds and tossing them into barrels while others pulled fresh vegetables from the earth to be carted up into the kitchens for dinner or preserving. Clouds were spattered here and there across the sky, great tendrils flowing in from the mountains, white and wispy, promising more good weather for the evening.
They passed the fields and stopped at the tree line. Four guards were waiting, two on horseback.
“Follow us.” One on foot and one on horseback began to escort them through the woods. Jane loosened the hunting knife in its sheath. The woods were thick and dark despite the sunshine above. Ghouls loved the trees, easy to hide. Her left hand found her second hunting knife and drew it completely. Brad glanced sideways at her, watching as her plodding became a stealthy tread across the rough dirt road, the blade held loosely in her hand, the cool metal pressed against her forearm as her arm swung lightly with each step. The guards moved easily, calmly through the trees. The one on horseback leaned casually forward.
Fools. They would be dead before they could draw their swords. Their eyes do not search, their ears do not hear.
Less than a kilometer and Jane could hear the sound of axes striking wood. They entered a clearing. Wagons of wood rounds stood, horses facing the road, waiting. While some men were sawing down the trees, others took the branches off, some sawed them into rounds and still more loaded. A guard stood atop the seat of each wagon, bow in hand and arrow notched.
At least their eyes search the trees, if only briefly.
The two who had escorted them turned back immediately to make their way through the trees. The wood cutters worked steadily, placing their trust in the guards completely, none of them looking up to so much as even glance into the forest.
Their false sense of safety makes them weak. When they are attacked it will be worse than it should be. And they will be attacked at some point. It’s inevitable.
“Come on. We load.” Brad jumped right in, grabbing great rounds of logs and throwing them over his shoulder. He dumped them unceremoniously into the carts like everyone else to be brought back to Refuge and chopped up later. Jane joined in, hauling logs, breaking her back but more importantly keeping up with everyone else.
By the time the work day ended she was drenched and exhausted. The men jumped up onto the back of the carts as others climbed up onto the front seats to get the horses moving. Jane sat on top of the log pile, jolting back and forth. She finished her waterskin, draining the last drops and still searching for more.
“Sleep well tonight hey?”
“I sleep well every night. Your beds are too comfy, your walls are too high and your food is too much. You all grow weak here.”
“Maybe. Seems to me you’re stronger than ever. I saw you when you arrived, nothing but a skeleton in rags. Look at you now. It’s done you good.”
“Maybe.” Jane’s eyes found the trees and searched, her hand on her knife again. Better to be watchful than to talk, better to listen than to daydream, better to live than die.
They reached the fields and headed to the safety of the walls. The logs were unloaded quickly, everyone eager to disperse for dinner.
“So, tonight.”
“What about it?”
“It’s your first rotation on guard duty.”
“Oh.”
“Oh? I thought you might be nervous, or excited.”
“I am whatever I should be.”
“How deep.” A smile played across his lips and Jane realized he was teasing her. The camaraderie she had built with Dom and Bug had taken weeks, had really only began to develop towards the end yet Brad was already feeling comfortable with her. Love makes you weak. Friendship makes you weak.
She ignored the jest and headed for the hall for dinner. Brad followed her obediently.
The night was cold, the air dry. The evening had been enjoyable, beautiful. The sun set behind the mountains casting its orange and purple light across the sky. From the east the night slowly drew forward, at first an azure blue and then a velvet black. The stars shone brightly, the moon even brighter. If there were any clouds they were hiding. With nothing to keep the heat close to the earth the temperature plummeted across the plains. There would be frost on the ground by morning, coating the leaves of grass and all the vegetables.
Guard duty was boring, just the way Jane remembered it. There were no fires, nothing to bring ghouls closer. Jane had gotten rid of her yellow cloaks a week earlier. She now wore a thick black cloak, the upper area an old wolf pelt that she hugged closer to her shoulders. Beneath her leather armour was cold and ill fitting. As only a part time guard she had to share armour, giving it up at the end of her shift.
The leather vest had a high neck, buckling from the bottom of her chin to just above her groin. Leather gauntlets ran up to her elbows and were buckled shut with leather straps.
The two most common places to get bitten, the arms and the neck. Ghouls go for the neck and we throw our arms up in defense. Smart of them.
It was the only armour offered to the guards but Jane remembered the full body armour of the Rangers, even the full time guards got leg armour, waist cinchers, gorgets, helmets. Some words foreign to her yet all of them impressive. Leather was fairly light, still flexible and virtually impossible to bite through.
If we do leave I will have to get my hands on some of this. Even this sword would have its uses. Farther reach than a knife, no need to get in close enough to get bitten just slice through the neck from afar.
“How’s your swordplay?”
“Ok. Not as good as my aim.”
“Luckily for you we’re up on the walls. No patrolling the roads in the dark. That’s where you want a sword. We’ll have to get you some more training time.”
“When was the last ghoul spotted?”
“Had a small band reported a couple weeks ago. Far patrol took them out.”
“Far patrol? I’ve only seen a few.”
“They don’t come in much. There’s a ring of forts ten clicks out from Refuge. They ride and hike through the woods, one to the other in a circular route. They see all the action. Only Old Banjo and his boy come in every couple weeks for food and water to re-stock the forts. Otherwise they get two days off every two weeks. Most stay out there. Far Patrol’s a little wild, not as wild as The Rangers but close. You’d probably do well amongst them.”
Good information. Perhaps Brad has his uses.
“Why would I do well?” What insight does he think he has?
“You seem cautious, anxious around people, not afraid of a fight.” Brad shrugged and turned away to search the darkness. Jane was only too happy to have the conversation ended. She wiggled her toes to get the blood flowing but it did nothing to warm her numb feet. Her eyes looked out onto the dark planes, her mind blank. Jane was done thinking, too much thinking gets you into trouble. You can’t question everything. Best to just accept things the way they are.
Jane chortled to herself. She was the worst at accepting change. Elizabeth was flourishing in Refuge as Jane struggled. Death I can accept, killing I can accept. Safety is hard to grasp.
“Time to turn in.” Rolf poked his head in the door. Both Elizabeth and Jane had returned from their separate watches, the whole house had returned at the same time.
“Thanks.” Elizabeth had already turned back. Rolf smiled, his teeth slightly crooked but white, his square jaw and good looks having no effect on Jane though he tried almost daily to chat her up, provided Elizabeth wasn’t within hearing.
The door shut and, as they did every night, Elizabeth pushed the small table near the door. Jane sat on the floor and stretched her back, aching from hauling logs around. She secretly dreaded a full day of the same tomorrow but said nothing aloud.
“I don’t like that boy.” Elizabeth sat on the bed, kneading her own shoulders after a day in the kitchens.
“I don’t think anyone does.” Jane’s back cracked happily as she twisted. Satisfied she climbed up into the top bunk and fell asleep beneath the blankets.
The barrow was loaded with freshly sheared wool, piled high, spilling over yet light. Jane pushed it forward easily, the wood wheel clomping along the cobbled stone. The sun was out, the day hot despite the end of summer approaching quickly. Dom and Bug pushed their own barrows behind her, following her as they pushed through the streets past running children, clomping horses and patrols. Jane paused, held up behind a cart of milk, the glass bottles clanking together with every pull from the donkey.
Jane took the first opportunity to push around. A burst of speed and the three youths outdistanced the slow milk man and were flying down the streets. They arrived at the miller’s and dumped the wool into a large pile.
“Lunch?” Dom asked, his face red from the sun. Bug smiled, his dark green eyes squinting against the bright sunlight. Jane just followed quietly like she usually did.
The summer had passed by in a breeze. Life had been good, days full of hard work but always a warm meal in your belly and a safe place to sleep. Despite Elizabeth’s natural settlement into Refuge life Jane secretly prepared for their run, keeping things stored in the trunk in their room. She had her own pack now, everything inventoried and distributed. A water bottle, a bow, a quiver of arrows. All things she was expected to always carry with her throughout the day. A bit of cotton for fire starting, hempen rope, a square of canvas…
Yet preparing for running away seemed silly now, to Elizabeth at least. That much Jane could tell. Still, better to be prepared. A little flour stolen daily added to a sack beneath the mattress. Spare arrow heads on their way to the armory. She kept it from Elizabeth. Elizabeth, born before The Rising, raised before The Rising and a survivor of The Rising. Who fit so easily back into a society that she had secretly missed.
Yet Jane, born after The Rising and raised after The Rising was a wild child, a teenager who had been raised by blood and dirt and knew nothing else. Who knew that life meant being quiet when you wanted to scream, running when your heart froze and killing when things needed dying. A life of creature comforts was never a life she had experienced. Cold, stiff muscles, stained clothing and skin and constant fear were normal. Jane had never felt so clean in her life, bathing in the river that ran just beyond the eastern wall with the rest of the residents meant that for the first time in years Jane could see her own face reflected on the water.
Small and petite her face had filled out with proper nourishment but was still bony. High cheekbones, dark eyes and a pointy chin. Her hair she could never tame, as short as it was. It styled itself differently after each night of sleep. Her pale skin began to tan after a summer exposed to the sun on the plains. She had burned at first, her skin always protected by the shade of the forest had eventually grown used to the open air of the prairies.
Jane adjusted the bow slung around her back as they hauled the barrows back through the streets, Dom chatting away to a silent Bug. Jane lagged behind, eyes searching the streets. Another Runner was approaching.
“Jane?”
“Yes?”
“Go to the Keep.” Jane eyed him until he turned to head away then glared at his back. She caught up with Dom and Bug as they dropped the barrows off in storage.
“I gotta go to the Keep.”
“All right.” They walked her to the Keep, waiting in the courtyard as she entered the hall.
A young man, his shirt stained with sweat stood to the side. He had tangled brown hair and lively dark eyes. There was no one else but the usual guards and Cassandra. Jane lingered near the door, waiting to be acknowledged. She only saw Cassandra from a distance these days. Apparently her interest in the new citizens faded quickly, something Jane was thankful for.
“Jane this is Brad.” The young, sweaty man shook her hand. Jane wiped the sweat he left behind on her shirt, not thinking. Brad didn’t seem to mind, just shrugged as Jane turned back to Cassandra.
“You’re familiar with the layout of Refuge?”
“Yes. Quite.”
“Good. You’re officially assigned. Brad’s a labourer.”
Jane knew what that meant. Similar to a Runner it meant working wherever you were needed, with the builders or the wood cutters or the masons. Hard work, harder than being a Runner but still easier than life before Refuge. Jane nodded.
“And you’re settling in well? Understanding the rules.”
“They’re not that hard, most make sense.” Jane looked Brad up and down, judging how helpful he might be in a scrap.
“All right. You can leave now.”
Brad followed Jane out, stepping out of the way as Jane was greeted by a rough slap on the back from Dom.
“Assigned I see. Great. Well, our work here is done. We’ll see you at dinner, lunch beckons.” Bug and Dom wandered off. Jane felt saddened slightly to see them leave but chastised herself for it. Friends. Ha! Love makes you weak. She pushed the feelings from her mind.
“Well. Let’s go do something.” Brad looked surprised for a moment at her harsh tone before he began leading the way.
“You been outside these walls since you got here?”
“Not yet.”
“All right. Got everything you need?”
“I think so.”
The main gates were just before them, guards all around.
“All right. Follow me.”
Brad approached the gate. The guards looked him up and down. Knife, bow, quiver, water bottle. They nodded and Brad waited for me. Jane followed through as quickly as Brad and for the first time in a month she faced the world.
The vast plains stretched out before her, the mountains small blue mounds in the distance. A dirt road wandered down towards them, low stone walls waist high marking either side. Wooden fences separated the fields. Most used for fodder. Perfectly straight rows of all types of vegetables covered the north fields and to the south were higher fences for cows and horses. Further north, beyond the fields, a large forest spread north east and a road disappeared into the trees.
“Come.”
The road down from the gates intersected a main road rutted with cart tracks. The intersection took you further west if you chose or north and south. A tower sat at the intersection, archers up high kept watch. Brad waved up, the archers waved back.
Brad followed the northern road and they trod past the vegetable fields, farmers bent over in the afternoon sun were ripping up weeds and tossing them into barrels while others pulled fresh vegetables from the earth to be carted up into the kitchens for dinner or preserving. Clouds were spattered here and there across the sky, great tendrils flowing in from the mountains, white and wispy, promising more good weather for the evening.
They passed the fields and stopped at the tree line. Four guards were waiting, two on horseback.
“Follow us.” One on foot and one on horseback began to escort them through the woods. Jane loosened the hunting knife in its sheath. The woods were thick and dark despite the sunshine above. Ghouls loved the trees, easy to hide. Her left hand found her second hunting knife and drew it completely. Brad glanced sideways at her, watching as her plodding became a stealthy tread across the rough dirt road, the blade held loosely in her hand, the cool metal pressed against her forearm as her arm swung lightly with each step. The guards moved easily, calmly through the trees. The one on horseback leaned casually forward.
Fools. They would be dead before they could draw their swords. Their eyes do not search, their ears do not hear.
Less than a kilometer and Jane could hear the sound of axes striking wood. They entered a clearing. Wagons of wood rounds stood, horses facing the road, waiting. While some men were sawing down the trees, others took the branches off, some sawed them into rounds and still more loaded. A guard stood atop the seat of each wagon, bow in hand and arrow notched.
At least their eyes search the trees, if only briefly.
The two who had escorted them turned back immediately to make their way through the trees. The wood cutters worked steadily, placing their trust in the guards completely, none of them looking up to so much as even glance into the forest.
Their false sense of safety makes them weak. When they are attacked it will be worse than it should be. And they will be attacked at some point. It’s inevitable.
“Come on. We load.” Brad jumped right in, grabbing great rounds of logs and throwing them over his shoulder. He dumped them unceremoniously into the carts like everyone else to be brought back to Refuge and chopped up later. Jane joined in, hauling logs, breaking her back but more importantly keeping up with everyone else.
By the time the work day ended she was drenched and exhausted. The men jumped up onto the back of the carts as others climbed up onto the front seats to get the horses moving. Jane sat on top of the log pile, jolting back and forth. She finished her waterskin, draining the last drops and still searching for more.
“Sleep well tonight hey?”
“I sleep well every night. Your beds are too comfy, your walls are too high and your food is too much. You all grow weak here.”
“Maybe. Seems to me you’re stronger than ever. I saw you when you arrived, nothing but a skeleton in rags. Look at you now. It’s done you good.”
“Maybe.” Jane’s eyes found the trees and searched, her hand on her knife again. Better to be watchful than to talk, better to listen than to daydream, better to live than die.
They reached the fields and headed to the safety of the walls. The logs were unloaded quickly, everyone eager to disperse for dinner.
“So, tonight.”
“What about it?”
“It’s your first rotation on guard duty.”
“Oh.”
“Oh? I thought you might be nervous, or excited.”
“I am whatever I should be.”
“How deep.” A smile played across his lips and Jane realized he was teasing her. The camaraderie she had built with Dom and Bug had taken weeks, had really only began to develop towards the end yet Brad was already feeling comfortable with her. Love makes you weak. Friendship makes you weak.
She ignored the jest and headed for the hall for dinner. Brad followed her obediently.
The night was cold, the air dry. The evening had been enjoyable, beautiful. The sun set behind the mountains casting its orange and purple light across the sky. From the east the night slowly drew forward, at first an azure blue and then a velvet black. The stars shone brightly, the moon even brighter. If there were any clouds they were hiding. With nothing to keep the heat close to the earth the temperature plummeted across the plains. There would be frost on the ground by morning, coating the leaves of grass and all the vegetables.
Guard duty was boring, just the way Jane remembered it. There were no fires, nothing to bring ghouls closer. Jane had gotten rid of her yellow cloaks a week earlier. She now wore a thick black cloak, the upper area an old wolf pelt that she hugged closer to her shoulders. Beneath her leather armour was cold and ill fitting. As only a part time guard she had to share armour, giving it up at the end of her shift.
The leather vest had a high neck, buckling from the bottom of her chin to just above her groin. Leather gauntlets ran up to her elbows and were buckled shut with leather straps.
The two most common places to get bitten, the arms and the neck. Ghouls go for the neck and we throw our arms up in defense. Smart of them.
It was the only armour offered to the guards but Jane remembered the full body armour of the Rangers, even the full time guards got leg armour, waist cinchers, gorgets, helmets. Some words foreign to her yet all of them impressive. Leather was fairly light, still flexible and virtually impossible to bite through.
If we do leave I will have to get my hands on some of this. Even this sword would have its uses. Farther reach than a knife, no need to get in close enough to get bitten just slice through the neck from afar.
“How’s your swordplay?”
“Ok. Not as good as my aim.”
“Luckily for you we’re up on the walls. No patrolling the roads in the dark. That’s where you want a sword. We’ll have to get you some more training time.”
“When was the last ghoul spotted?”
“Had a small band reported a couple weeks ago. Far patrol took them out.”
“Far patrol? I’ve only seen a few.”
“They don’t come in much. There’s a ring of forts ten clicks out from Refuge. They ride and hike through the woods, one to the other in a circular route. They see all the action. Only Old Banjo and his boy come in every couple weeks for food and water to re-stock the forts. Otherwise they get two days off every two weeks. Most stay out there. Far Patrol’s a little wild, not as wild as The Rangers but close. You’d probably do well amongst them.”
Good information. Perhaps Brad has his uses.
“Why would I do well?” What insight does he think he has?
“You seem cautious, anxious around people, not afraid of a fight.” Brad shrugged and turned away to search the darkness. Jane was only too happy to have the conversation ended. She wiggled her toes to get the blood flowing but it did nothing to warm her numb feet. Her eyes looked out onto the dark planes, her mind blank. Jane was done thinking, too much thinking gets you into trouble. You can’t question everything. Best to just accept things the way they are.
Jane chortled to herself. She was the worst at accepting change. Elizabeth was flourishing in Refuge as Jane struggled. Death I can accept, killing I can accept. Safety is hard to grasp.
“Time to turn in.” Rolf poked his head in the door. Both Elizabeth and Jane had returned from their separate watches, the whole house had returned at the same time.
“Thanks.” Elizabeth had already turned back. Rolf smiled, his teeth slightly crooked but white, his square jaw and good looks having no effect on Jane though he tried almost daily to chat her up, provided Elizabeth wasn’t within hearing.
The door shut and, as they did every night, Elizabeth pushed the small table near the door. Jane sat on the floor and stretched her back, aching from hauling logs around. She secretly dreaded a full day of the same tomorrow but said nothing aloud.
“I don’t like that boy.” Elizabeth sat on the bed, kneading her own shoulders after a day in the kitchens.
“I don’t think anyone does.” Jane’s back cracked happily as she twisted. Satisfied she climbed up into the top bunk and fell asleep beneath the blankets.
