Higher Ground

 

Fallon held Erthen in his arms as they rushed down the road toward the prisoner compound. The frightened grip of the young boy was so strong around his neck, that he struggled to breathe. “It’s OK,” he repeated in a grunt, looking toward Alithea. “We need to get off the road,” he breathed hoarsely.

“The beach,” she said. Unencumbered, she had adopted that stride of her youth, knees together, pumping high, the gait that ate up long distances in a steady pace.

Shifting Erthen to his other arm, he replied, “No cover.”

She looked left toward the rising cliffs that looked over the ocean. “You can’t. Not with Erthen.”

In a ragged breath, “No choice.”

She knew she could not carry the boy up that rising slope, but there was more cover in the trees and bushes. Glancing toward the ocean and the setting sun, there might be a chance. “The wolfbears.”

“The Cawthingi behind us.” He shifted the boy to his other arm as Alithea turned left and followed a crude path up the slope. As he bent forward, Erthen clung harder to his neck and dug his foot claws into his dad’s chest. The nails were still soft, but they felt like daggers in his skin. Shifting the boy would only cause him to extend his claws further. He stopped, panting hard.

In the dim light, Alithea looked back at them. “You’re bleeding.” She looked past Fallon toward the road they had left. She whipped off her sarong, then reached toward Erthen. “Give him here,” she said, then handed the sarong cloth to Fallon. After hoisting the boy astride Fallon’s shoulders, she took the cloth, swaddled Erthen with it, then wrapped it under Fallon’s arms and around his chest, making a knot. She stood in front of Fallon and reached up to Erthen. “Hello, baby boy.” Reaching up to Erthen’s shoulders, she rocked him to and fro, content that he was secure.

“He won’t fall?” Fallon sounded doubtful.

She looked at the boy and rubbed her forefinger on his upturned nose. “No, he won’t. He’s a plugger.”

Erthen flexed his knees, bouncing on his dad’s shoulders. “Dig!” he said.

She hated the word. It was a slave word, a prisoner word, but she did not show her distaste. “Yes, we dig deep!” She kissed one of the claw wounds on Fallon’s chest. “Dig deep, dad.” Then she turned and started up the path.

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In the darkening shadows of the sleeping quarters, Bebe stomach wrenched when she learned that Fallon and Alithea had gone up to the school posing as the queen’s advisors. “They should have been back by now.”

All three of them turned to the street on the other side of the wall, alert to the commotion outside. “That’s not the usual patrol guard,” Drindl said. He looked up to the air inlet near the top of the wall. It was a bit more than the size of a head. He turned to Alpen. “My back can take your weight, I think.”

Alpen glanced at the entry. The guards had closed the door and taken up their overnight watch. Bebe helped Alpen up onto the younger warrior’s back, then held on to his legs as the stood to look out the air inlet. After a moment, Alpen shimmied down to the ground. “You all right?” Bebe asked Drindl as he straightened and stretched his shoulders. He thanked her then turned to Alpen in the darkness.

“At least two wolfbear patrols, maybe a third,” Alpen said. “The sun had not fully set so I was partially blinded. They’re heading up the road to the school.”

“Any Sprints?” Drindl asked.

“Not that I saw but they are barely visible in low light.”

Bebe turned and sat on the bench, then looked up to Alpen. “Could you and Drindl overpower the guards?”

Alpen looked to Drindl. “The door is closed. Maybe create a commotion. If we get out, will the other prisoners follow? That might cause such a ruckus that it would draw off resources, I suppose.”

As he talked, Bebe realized that the scheme was a long shot. She reached up for Alpen’s hand. “I feel so helpless. I hope I can sleep tonight. I…” She was interrupted by a low bellow from far off.