Orc and Bunny

Chapter 6 - Returning Home

Lord Hilcrest was in a precarious position. When his vision cleared from the mysterious bright light, he found himself dangling from a tree wrapped in vines. Luckily for him, the vines were quite thick and his position seemed stable. Unfortunately for him, the tree they were attached to was neatly cut in half. Vertically.

In the afternoon light, (had he been out that long? It didn’t seem likely to him.) he could make out his cane where it fell neatly among the strange ferns at the base of the tree. His bad leg ached, but he couldn’t even reach it to try and rub some of the ache out.

“Help! Someone help me!” Hilcrest yelled as best he could, “I seem to have found myself stuck up a tree! Anne! Can anyone hear me?”

Only a pleasantly warm breeze answered his pleas. Hilcrest blew air into his long mustache as he sighed loudly.

“I certainly hope Anne is safer than I am right now,” he said to himself, “though I suppose at least she has my sword for protection.”

Hilcrest tried to crane his neck, hoping he might see a way out of his predicament. Unfortunately, he was not able to move his head very far.

“Blast these accursed vines!” he spat, trying to wriggle his way loose, but all he succeeded in doing was tightening them around his arms, until he started to lose feeling in them, and gave up.

The night came, and still Hilcrest was no closer to freeing himself. Actually, that was inaccurate. He had managed to loosen them around his arms enough to get the blood flowing again. The pain had been excruciating, and he had startled some sort of small moss green chipmunk that had no tail with his scream.

He shivered through the night, desperately wishing he was at least on the ground where he might be able to do something to keep himself warm. It was in the early hours of the morning when he heard the ominous rustling near the base of the tree. He began once again desperately thrashing against the vines.

Anne stopped and dropped to her knees behind a bush when Belmoral signaled they should hide. There was something ahead of them, and from what she had been told, these woods could be dangerous.

Belmoral was taking Anne to where she saw the light from the upheaval the previous day. Anne had been made to rest that night by Belmoral, even after insisting she felt fine after the healing magic. She had been full of questions about every aspect of the village and the magic and Belmoral’s herbs.

Unfortunately, she couldn’t record the answers in her journal because when she fell, her inkwell had shattered. Her journal was saved because it was in the sturdy leather case hanging from her belt, though there was some blood splattered on some of the exposed pages at the top.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“What is it?” Anne whispered.

“I’m not sure,” Belmoral responded under her breath, “might just be some goblins, or it might be something more dangerous. Stay here.”

Belmoral barely made a sound as she slowly moved forward through the thick brush in the forest. Anne quickly lost track of her, and waited with baited breath, legs coiled under her like a tightened spring.

“Aaaah!”

Anne leapt forward on hearing the distressed cry, rapier ready for anything. Well, almost anything.

“Father?” Anne cried, immediately running to hug the man sitting on the ground at the base of the half-destroyed tree waving his cane wildly at Belmoral.

“Anne! There you are, thank god!” Hilcrest embraced Anne tightly. Her ribs screamed at her to stop, but she was so relieved to see him that she didn’t dare.

The three looked a sight as they made their way through the wood. The bedraggled Hilcrest was carried by the towering Belmoral, and Anne leading the way ready to strike at any sign of danger. Anne and Belmoral, mostly Belmoral, brought Hilcrest up to speed on the events that had transpired as they walked. He was alarmed to learn that they were no longer on Field (the original world of the aberts like Anne), and became pensive when he learned that they would be unable to return.

They made their way slowly across nearly two miles of unattended fields spread across slow lazy hills. The contrast in the gold of the ready to harvest grain, and the brilliant emerald green of the forest that surrounded it amazing them all. Long after the sun was beginning its descent, the town of Hilcrest came into view.

Anne laughed at the expression on Belmoral’s face.

“What? Have you never seen a town before?”

“Not one like this. I’ve heard stories of cities but I thought they were tall tales. That wall is incredible.”

“Thank you, Belmoral. My great-grandfather was the one that commissioned it,” Hilcrest said proudly, “He was given this land by the King for his service during the Holy Xisades. He saved his majesty’s life, you know, against the godless hordes trying to claim the holy city.”

“How did they get such big rocks?” Belmoral marveled, listening to Hilcrest’s stories in amazement. Anne rolled her eyes, and continued to lead the way.

When they finally reached the gates, the sun was in their eyes, and they welcomed the shade of the large stone wall. Belmoral was still marveling at the architecture, but Hilcrest and Anne shared worried looks. The gate was closed. They both knew that the gates to Hilcrest had never been closed to anyone since the days of the rebellion that broke Hilcrest’s leg.

“Something is wrong,” Anne murmured. Belmoral immediately set Hilcrest down. He handed her the Bardiche that he had been holding for her.

“Now, Anne, there may not be something wrong. Commander Gareth may just be being cautious.” her father said in a voice that indicated to her that he was not convinced. He hobbled his way to the front of the gate before craning his neck to the top of the wall, “We peaceful travelers request entrance and sanctuary beyond your threshold, to rest our weary heads, even as it was offered to Josiah by Gideon in days of yore!”

“That’s the traditional greeting for entering a gated city in our culture,” Anne quietly explained to Belmoral., who nodded in understanding.

A swarm of guards surrounded them quickly as the gate opened. Far too many to fight or escape. The three travelers were quickly wrestled to the ground, bound and gagged.

“I’m sorry, my lord, we have orders to arrest you on sight,” the guard in charge of the gate said.

The guards then threw black bags over the heads of Hilcrest, Anne, and Belmoral, and they were dragged away.