The Chellion Days

steered it over to a small stream and quickly undid the rope. Cerise hopped off and together they lowered Ackerley onto the bank of the stream. Blood covered his white tunic. Kenton dug his hand into a small bag that hung off the saddle. He took out a couple rolled up bandages and threw one at Cerise. She splashed some water on her shoulder and quickly wound the bandage around it, and then went to Ackerley’s side.

  She felt his neck.

  Kenton stared at her, too afraid to look down.

  After a few seconds her hand moved away, trembling horribly.

  26.

  They sat there for a long time watching and listening to the water. Every couple minutes Kenton looked back at his little brother—heavily bandaged—laying perfectly still—his breathing weak and shallow. He had cried for a while, and then he had stopped, promising to be strong. And then he cried some more. Cerise stared silently ahead, she hadn’t moved since she finished helping Kenton with the bandages.

  “You know what I miss most about that little town we’re from?” Kenton said as it started to get dark.

  “What?” Whispered Cerise, not taking her eyes off the distant, promised future that grew so dim.

  “The sounds—just those everyday small town sounds that filled the place. You know the ones? The carts going through the streets and the people talking about whatever mattered in their simple lives. I missed that most of all when I left. Second of all I guess.” He looked back at his brother. “He’s all I got left.”

  “He’s all I got left.” Cerise said, finally looking away from the distance. She buried her face in her hands. “What d’we do now?”

  “I don’t know.” Kenton breathed.

  “How long will it take to get to Vloraisha?” She asked.

  “A couple days. There’s nothing we can do for him until then.”

  Kenton looked like a man who didn’t know what to do with himself. He stared at nothing, looking lost and confused.

  The hours ticked by. Night came and it grew too dark to see. Kenton didn’t dare light a fire. He was certain that Welgos had been sent to finish them off. If Victor was still alive then he would probably want nothing more than to do it himself.

  Ackerley stirred around daybreak. Neither Cerise nor Kenton had slept any. They turned to face him. The boy turned his head a few times and his eyes fluttered open.

  Kenton rushed over, relief exploding within him.

  “You’re alright.” He assured him.

  “What—?” Ackerley rasped. “S’where are we?”

  Kenton rustled around in a little bag and pulled out a flower bulb. It was wilted and turning brown.

  “Here, eat this. It’s medicine. It’ll take the pain away for a few hours. I brought several.”

  Ackerley ate the bulb and Kenton gave him some water. A few minutes later Ackerley fell unconscious.

  Kenton got Sidestep ready, placing the bag with the bulbs carefully in his pocket, and took out the rope.

  “Are you sure he’ll be alright?” Cerise asked as she helped put Ackerley onto the horse.

  “We’ll go slow.” Kenton said. “I’m almost out of that medicine and we need to get to Vloraisha before the Welgos catch up.”

  “Do you really think they’re after us still?” Cerise asked fearfully.

  Kenton climbed onto the horse. “The king’s dead.” He said simply. “I was second in command. If Victor still thinks the country’s not his I’m the only one left for him to go after.”

  Cerise jumped onto the horse and held Ackerley across the shoulders, making sure to stay clear of his side. The boy’s head fell limply on his brother’s back.

  Kenton patted Sidestep affectionately. They started off at a canter.

  The morning passed slowly. Both Cerise and Kenton were so afraid of something happening to Ackerley that whenever Sidestep got too fast or too slow they gasped and made sure the movements didn’t jar him too much. Kenton took some bread out of one of the bags and gave it to Cerise. There wasn’t much, but they were too hungry to wait any longer.

  Around midday Ackerley woke up. They had to explain to him what was happening. Kenton asked every minute or so if he wanted any more medicine, to which Ackerley always declined, despite the pain growing harder to handle. He knew that they didn’t have enough to get all the way there.

  They experimented with Sidestep going faster. Ackerley managed alright at a gallop, which made everyone breathe a little easier.

  They passed several burned shells of old towns. In the afternoon they stopped to rest a little; Ackerley took the medicine. In the evening Sidestep found the little forest Ackerley had thought so much about. It was just as amazing as before. The pain had subsided with the bulb and Ackerley was able to fully appreciate where he was. The little garden didn’t do the real thing justice. The smells stronger—the sounds more beautiful.

  The boy allowed himself to dream once more. He imagined a life down by the water, filled with seafood unlike he could ever imagine, and the freedom to live and travel as he’d never experienced. It sounded so great—felt even better.

  Unable to control himself, he asked Kenton what kind of little house he could look forward to.

  “I think I’ll build one.” Kenton said, also allowing himself the simple pleasure of the future.

  “We’ll build it together.” Ackerley said, his voice shaking with glee.

  “Yeah, and then in a few years you can go out and build your own.”

  “I want one right on the water.” Cerise added. “It won’t even have a door. I’ll put a curtain up and anybody can just walk right in if they want. I’ll have a little table and we can all sit around and think about how great we have it.”

  Ackerley laughed, which made his side hurt. “I’ll come by a lot.”

  “You better.” Cerise ordered.

  They talked on about all the great things they were going to do. And then—

  “What was that?” Cerise said suddenly.

  The end of the trees could be seen in the distance. Somewhere behind them came a noise that sounded uncomfortably like frenzied voices.

  “Sidestep.” Kenton whispered, patting the horse. “Let’s go.”

  Sidestep quickened his pace. The noises did as well. Whoops and hollers cascaded from all around.

  For a brief optimistic moment Kenton hoped these were the voices of Chells who had hid in the forest.

  That hope came crashing down when twenty or so invaders launched themselves from behind trees and bushes.

  Sidestep jolted away through the last few feet of forest and into the flat nothingness beyond. On either side thundered a whole cavalry of Welgos on their oversized black horses. Far in the distance walls were being erected on new towns.

  The older Morzha glanced back at the younger. His eyes gravitated to the red on the white tunic.

  “I’m alright.” Ackerley said. “Go.”

  Kenton turned back around and kicked the horse hard. Sidestep pounded away across the dirt road. The enemy gained quickly. Cerise pushed herself against Ackerley, holding on tight. Kenton lamented losing his sword. Only speed could save them now. He took the reigns in one hand, removed one of the bags from the saddle, and let the contents empty. Then, bag in hand, he waited for the Welgos.

  The black horses rumbled closer. Swords swiped at the air. Arrows whizzed by.

  The first Welgo caught up to the tail of Sidestep. Kenton threw the bag back. It landed square on the black horse’s face. It slowed, shaking its head until the bag dislodged itself.

  Kenton took another bag. This wouldn’t work forever. They had been caught. Sidestep wouldn’t be able to keep them off more than a few seconds. Everything that he ever worked for: leaving his family at sixteen to join the army, trying to protect his brother, it would all end by execution in only a few hours . . . or sooner.

  Several of the large black beasts closed in on th
e sides. The Welgos aimed their swords at Sidestep . . .

  Cerise put her head on Ackerley’s shoulder.

  “I—I.” She stammered.

  Ackerley turned. Their eyes met. For the briefest of instances Cerise looked scared. And then she smiled serenely. Hair blowing—tears streaming down her face—the princess of Indigo launched herself off the back of the horse.

  She seemed frozen there, mid jump. Her body falling back, her eyes watching his. Ackerley’s hand reached out, but she was gone.

  Sidestep’s pace quickened. It just had enough to get through. The Welgos couldn’t keep up.

  Ackerley pounded on his brother’ back.

  “Kenton, go back! We have to go back.”

  Kenton didn't take his eyes off the distance. “We can’t. We’ll be killed.” He bellowed.

  “She fell off!” Ackerley sobbed. “I can’t leave her!”

  “She knew what she was doing.”

  Ackerley’s fingers clawed at his brother’s hands, trying to pull the reigns from him. “PLEASE!” He screeched. “I can’t—”

  Kenton swung an elbow back, striking his brother across the face.

  “I’m not letting you kill yourself!” He yelled. “Now, stop it.”

  Sidestep galloped on. Ackerley tried fruitlessly to gain control of the horse. When that didn’t work he tried to free himself from the fraying rope. Kenton punched him hard.

  Finally, helpless and frightened, Ackerley gripped the sides of the saddle and cried.

  Sometime late in the evening Kenton slowed the horse. He untied the rope, handing his brother a bulb. He reluctantly took it.

  Ackerley gingerly slid to the