Chapter Six: The Smuggler

“Sure you not lost?”

Mollie had been saying that repeatedly for the past few days. Kenelm was beginning to question his decision to let Mollie tag along. She insisted; so, Kenelm didn't have much say in the matter. Not even Teller kicked up a fuss. Kenelm’s friend was willing to go with the flow. Didn’t help Mollie was his older sister – by only a few minutes. Only occasionally would Teller inject wisdom into the conversation, usually based on what he’d read in a book.

“I’m certain I’m sure,” Kenelm exclaimed. “It said so on this map. See… right here. There should be a temple nearby. I’m sure of it.”

Mollie glanced over his shoulder as Kenelm examined the map again.

"You've not read the map upside down, have you?"

“No!” Kenelm protested. She was starting to grind his gears. “Teller… I’m reading it right?”

“I think so…” Teller simply said timidly

“See… I’m right,” Kenelm announced proudly.

“Teller’s going to agree with you no matter what! Give me the map; I’ll do a better job.”

Just like that, Mollie snatched the map from Kenelm’s hand. Kenelm, however, grabbed hold of the paper, causing the map to rip in half.

“Look what you’ve done!” Mollie accused him.

“I didn’t do nothing!” Kenelm complained.

“You sure did!” she yelled back. “Now what are we going to do!”

“We can place the two bits of paper here,” Kenelm said, trying to place the map back together. Before he could take another glance at the map, a giant gush of wind blew between them. The pieces of paper flew out of Kenelm’s hand, flying high into the trees. There was no way in hell they were going to retrieve the map now.

“You dim-witted fool!” Mollie yelled, now more aggressive and annoyed. “Look what you’ve done!”

“It was the wind, dammit!” Kenelm defended himself.

“You’re making excuses!” Mollie touted. “If I’d hold of the map, that wouldn’t happen!”

“Really? You think so?”

“Guys…” Teller muttered. His voice barely rose above the two bickering. "Guys," he said again, this time a little louder. Again, Mollie and Kenelm continued arguing, unaware their friend was trying to get their attention. “Guys!” this time Teller yelled, making the other two notice him. “There’s something over there,” he pointed. “Like some structure. Maybe we could stay there for the night?”

Although Kenelm wasn’t all too sure – he’d heard stories of ghosts living in those places – he thought it best to listen to Teller’s advice. His friends seemed eager to find shelter. The sky had been threatening to rain, with dark clouds building up. Kenelm decided he'd have a better chance at disturbing the resting places of long-dead souls, than annoying Mollie. He had already struck a nerve with Mollie. Kenelm didn't want to repeat himself. The matron's wrath was punishing, Mollie’s wrath was hell.

“Seems a good plan,” Kenelm said. He looked to his Mollie to engage her response. She simply nodded. “The temple, I guess.”

They manage to reach the shrine just before it began pouring with rain. The building was certainly not one of those temples seen from a distance in Angluem. It was rather small; an ancient outpost shrine for a long-forgotten and vanished village.

As night fell to darkness, with only the major moon shining light, the three friends slept. At first, Kenelm struggled to fall into slumber. The wind was bashing about outside, causing noisy havoc. Eventually, he was able to drift asleep. The next morning came suddenly. Mollie was shaking Kenelm, forcing him to suddenly wake.

“You’re like your brother,” she remarked.

“I’m nothing like him…” he argued. “Well, besides the curls.”

“That’s a dead giveaway,” Mollie laughed.

The rain had calmed down but hadn't stopped. Although the wind had died, small drops of water showered occasionally. Even though neither kid was keen on continuing their journey, they had to leave the temple in haste, so they’ll be able to catch up with Kenelm's brother and friend. Quickly eating breakfast – a slither of ham between two slices of bread – the three of them packed their gear and proceeded to leave.

Before they could leave, however, Kenelm heard heavy footsteps. Realising someone was coming, he quickly dashed to hide. Kenelm crouched behind some rumble. His friends did the same. Kenelm quickly glanced over the top of the broken pillar, trying to get a sight of whoever was out there. Two men entered the temple.

“We know ya in there,” one of the men calmly announced. “There’s no point hiding. We saw ya enter.”

Before he could stop his friend, Teller dashed towards the exit. One of the men was quick enough to grab hold of the boy.

“Don’t move a muscle!” the man yelled forcefully, somewhat mumbling. “Struggle and fight, and we’ll have to slice ya in two!”

He pulled a dagger towards Teller’s throat. Kenelm could see his friend gulp. Kenelm knew he had no choice. Standing up, he placed his hand upwards. He turned and looked at Mollie. She did the same.

“Wise choice,” the man smirked. “Now come slowly. Ya don’t want to spook us.” He waved his dagger – an obvious threat.

Approaching the two men, Kenelm was able to get a better look. One of the men seemed to be in his early twenties. Having the beginnings of a beard, basically a small stubble, and short brownest hair, the young man dangled a straw from his mouth. He wore a greyish-blue trench coat covered with patches of leather. The other man was older, around his late forties. A worn ragged face, his crystal blue eyes stared intensely, the eyeballs stained with blood-red veins like strikes of thundering. The man had dark sacks swelled below his eyes. Like the younger man, he too wore a greyish-blue trench coat, although grubbier and in ill repair. The coat had many holes ripped throughout as if its owner couldn't bother repairing it. Although it seemed he'd attempted at cutting it back, the man had a somewhat grown messy beard.

“What we do boss?” the younger man asked.

"We take them back to camp," the older man replied. "These urchins will surely demand a high ransom. If not, we do need someone to clean the chaff. What do ya think?”

“Sure sounds good.”

By now Kenelm had reached the two men. The younger of the two grabbed Kenelm by the gruff of his neck, turning him around to face his friend. Mollie seemed nervous. The man quickly tried Kenelm’s hand.

“Now it’s the gal,” the older man instructed.

Mollie moved forward towards them nervously. She moved much slower than Kenelm, probably to irritate their captures. Just as the younger man drew close, Mollie suddenly stomped on his foot. The man yelped a high screech. Before he could react, Mollie made a quick dash towards the temple’s entrance. The older man wasn’t quick enough to catch her.

“Damn it!” he yelled. “Damn, ya lil’ chaff.”

Although Kenelm expected him to run after her, the older man remained at the entranceway. Defeated, he turned to the two boys they'd managed to rope up.

“No point going after the lass,” he remarked. “Would give these two time to escape.”

Standing behind Kenelm, the older man forcefully got the boy to move forward. He could feel the older man’s breath exhale a foul odour. The man had recently eaten rotten fish. Being brought up in a fishing town, Kenelm was familiar with that smell. Often shopkeepers would try to sell their rotten wares. Most people didn’t fool for it. Only the desperate would brave eating such food.

“What brings young’uns out here?” the older man asked rather forcefully. “There’s no village nearby, so clearly ya two are from the city.”

“Tired of fixing fishing nets,” the younger man joked. “Remember my friends back at home saying that. They never bothered running away, though.”

“So, kids,” the old man asked again, “what brings ya here. To one of those savages' temples?"

Kenelm wasn't sure what to say. The man half-answered the questions already. Kenelm remained silent, trying to think of a response. This didn't please the man, who jabbed the dagger into the boy's back. It didn't hurt at all – the dagger barely touched him – but suddenness caused him to jolt.

“Answer boy!” the man retorted, this time far more aggressively.

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“Looking for my brother,” Kenelm replied. “He went missing. We went out to find him.”

“Didn’t our contact say they were looking for two boys?” the younger man asked. “You think these are them?”

“Probably,” the older man replied. “Curly hair… these kids might be worth more than we thought.”

It dawned on Kenelm that these men had mistaken him for his brother. While they did look similar, Kenelm always left his hair to go long and unruly. However, Kenelm started to worry about his brother. Whatever Finneas has got himself into, he pondered, it’s certainly not good.

Neither man ask them further question. Kenelm made sure to keep moving, just in case the older man’s dagger would nudge him from behind again. It didn’t take long to discover the two men’s names. The older was called Willem, while the younger said his name was Roben. After walking for what seemed like hours, they arrived at another rundown temple, this one much smaller than the previous one. Kenelm wondered if it was just a simple shrine, a place where a local village would go to worship in ancient days. He had heard about this before; there were said to be hundreds of them scattered throughout the forest. Plant life and overgrowth covered the temple, obscuring it.

“S’pose we rest here,” Willem remarked. “Seems pretty dry, I say.”

"Those savages did build these places real good, aye," Roben walked around inspecting the temple’s interior.

“Probably the only thing they’re good at, Damn rats, I say,” scoffed Willem. “We better get a fire started. Don’t want to chill.” The older man began to walk towards the door. “Come here lad,” he pointed to Kenelm. “You, the curly kid. You’re helping me find firewood.” Kenelm approached the man. "Turn around!" Willem ordered. Obeying the older man, he did as he was told. Kenelm could feel the man untying the rope. "Don't dare runoff, or I'll cut damn throat."

Usually, Kenelm would refuse to follow orders. He really hated authority figures. But Willem seemed aggressive. Kenelm took the man’s threat of violence seriously. He decided it best to follow the man’s instructions.

Wandering through the woods, Kenelm helped collect branches that had fallen to the ground. They didn’t go too far from the temple. Willem remained silent, barely acknowledging Kenelm. The only thing he muttered was telling him where to go. Although it was dark, Kenelm was able to make out where the branches were. He quickly picked up as many as he could carry. Once they had enough firewood, they returned to the temple.

Willem lumped the branches into a pile. Using a piece of flint and his dagger, the man aggressively lit the fire. The flames boomed out suddenly, creating a bright light. On top of the fire, Willem cooked a pot of soup. Kenelm assumed it was that; there was nothing else the whitest grey slump could’ve been.

“We’ll be getting up early,” the younger man informed them. “Better get some sleep.”

“And ya better not think about sneaking away," the Willem warned as he cleaned his crossbow. “This thing mightn’t be accurate, but one shot will sure cripple you.”

The two boys decided it was best to follow their orders. Kenelm tried his best to get comfortable on the hard stone ground. However, he kept turning. Whether it was the ground's uneven surface or the howling of wolves outside, Kenelm wasn't able to get much sleep. He was still feeling tired when he was awakened.

“Get up curls,” a harsh voice snapped. It was Willem.

Willem refused to feed Kenelm and Teller, insisting they had enough the previous day. Although it'd begun to rain, they continued wading through the muddy terrain. Once in a while, Roben would gently poke Kenelm with his staff, making the boy jolt forward. Each time, the young man would giggle. Although Kenelm wanted to punch the man in the face, he was well aware he couldn’t. Not only was his hand tied behind his back, but Kenelm also didn't know how Willem would react. The older man had seen a lot of combat in his life. There was no way either Kenelm nor Teller could take him down.

“The damn rain!” Willem muttered. Kenelm noticed the man would occasionally rant for minutes on end. No one would dare interrupt him. “Should’ve kept walking, yesterday! A few hours more, we could've made more distance! Now we will trail through this filth!"

Although over the past few days the rain appeared to be calming, the weather took a turn for the worst. By late evening they were trudging through the deep rain. The mud-covered water came up to Kenelm’s and Teller’s knees. Willem refused to stop, insisting on retaining their forward march. Even when nightfall came, the older man made them continue walking. Since Kenelm hadn't eaten for what seemed like an eternity, his stomach felt as if it’d been punched. It gave off a wallowing growl.

Eventually, it'd become so dark, that even Willem admitted it was futile. Finding an undergrowth, the four hide underneath. Kenelm tried to sleep. But with everything wet, he struggled. For most of the night, he kept his eye closed, hoping it was all a dream.

The next day, again they continued. It was still raining, although it had calmed somewhat. Both boys were soaked. Kenelm's curls were drenched in so much rain, that the hair tips were dropping below his shoulder. It was another day of marching through the mud. Night came again, like clockwork. They relentlessly travelled in the dark.

For a brief moment, Kenelm was convinced Willem wasn’t going to stop. But then, far in the distance, a faint light appeared. Trees obscured its source. Footsteps were heard, slurping through the mud. Willem stopped abruptly, holding his right arm out to halt the rest of the group. Roben grabbed hold of Kenelm and Teller, pulling them into what seemed like more undergrowth. They waited there, in silence.

“You!” a distant voice yelled. “We know you’re out there! Identify yourself!”

Willem remained silent.

“There’s no need to hide!” the voice continued to demand. “Identify yourself now! Not playing games.”

“Identify yourselves first!” Willem finally replied. “These are dangerous times, they are! You don’t know what evil lurks! You can’t be too careful!”

“We’re the resistance!” the voice replied.

Willem scoffed.

“Of course, you are,” the man remarked.

Sprinting was heard. Kenelm couldn’t tell who. It was difficult to tell which direction the footsteps were moving. He was unsure if the man was running toward them, or away from them. Kenelm then heard someone else running; a whooshing noise before a sharp jab. Clomp! Something heavy fell to the ground.

“Why?” the voice previously heard pleaded. “We’re on the same side!”

“Nummi cui, nummi,” Willem stated simply. "We've contacts within the Imperial Regiment. Traitors for gold."

“You won’t go unpunished,” the man continued. “The Maker will see to it.”

“Thus to all giants, I presume.”

Willem committed another thrust, this one with greater force. The rebel groaned, before going silent. Another person was heard fleeing. Willem caught up with him as well. Whoever it was – the person sounded as if he was young – sobbed and yelled desperately as he drew his final breath. Having finished off his opponents, Willem returned with a grin. He was tossing in the air what appeared to be a dark green crystal.

"Refined manna," the man remarked. "Surely it'll get us a few crowns."

Willem gave the crystal to Roben. The younger man carefully placed the green crystal into one of his pockets. He even made sure to make sure the crystal wouldn’t fall out of his pocket. The older man then quickly directed Kenelm and Teller to keep moving. Although he could barely see, Kenelm noticed a dark figure, a body perhaps, lying on the muddy terrain.

They eventually stopped to rest. Roben, who had scouted ahead, found a small cave. It was decided they’d stay there for the night. Kenelm was glad to get away from the rain.

“There Natives nearby,” Roben mentioned. “I can smell ‘em.”

“Don’t be silly,” Willem quipped. “But yeah, I think you’re right.”

"Tomorrow, I think we should hunt them down," the younger man remarked. "If those rebels had refined manna, imagine what the rest have."

The two men had become more brazen, opening to admitting their plans. The more Kenelm got to know them, it become apparent they relished violence. Although he had been uncertain whether to take their threats seriously, after what had occurred with the rebels, he decided it was best to listen and follow their orders.

Lying next to his friend, Kenelm closed his eyes. He forced himself to sleep. He could still hear the rain paddling outside. He wasn't sure how long he'd been lying there when someone nudged him. At first, he thought it was either Willem or Roben about to wake him up. It wasn’t, to his delight. Crouching, Mollie loomed above him.

“Where you been?” Kenelm whispered, trying not to wake the two men up.

“Following you,” Mollie replied. “You thought I’d abandon you?”

“No,” Kenelm said rather defensively.

“We better get a move on,” Mollie alerted them, “before they wake up.”

Quickly, Mollie cut the rope tying Kenelm’s hands together. Once he was free, she moved on to Teller, helping her brother uncut the rope tying him up. As she was doing that, Kenelm stared at Willem and Roben. The two men were still asleep. Kenelm pondered whether it was best to leave them there. He speculated if they would go looking for them once they had discovered they’d escaped. Kenelm knew he couldn’t risk it. After what those two men had done, and what they were planning, he knew quite well he could leave them alive.

Roben was the closest. Carefully, Kenelm nudged the man’s dagger from its holster. He positioned the dagger, the tip pointing towards the young man’s upper chest. Thrusting downwards, Kenelm drove the knife into Roben’s heart. The young man’s eyes opened up. He didn’t bleak at all. Realising what was happening, he cried out a painful scream.

“What is it?” Willem yelled.

The man leapt upwards. Realising what was occurring, the older man charged toward the boy. Kenelm quickly reacted, slashing the dagger in front of him. The attack didn’t do any good. Willem grabbed hold of Kenelm’s wrist.

“Ya little chaff!” he growled. “Y'all rot for this!”

Twisting his wrist, Willem was able to make Kenelm lose grip of the dagger. The hunk of metal came crashing to the ground. The odour coming from the man caused Kenelm to shake. The man then punched Kenelm in the face, causing him to fall to the ground. Bleeding, he attempted to get back up. Yet Willem kept slamming his fist at Kenelm’s head. Mollie tried to stop the man's wild assault but was knocked back by Willem's elbow. Panicking, Kenelm stretched his arm, grabbing hold of the dropped dagger. With another slash, he was able to cut a large gouge into Willem’s face. The older man moved back, his hand covering his face. It didn't take Kenelm long to realise he'd sliced Willem's eyes – both of them. Blood poured from the older man’s face as he screamed an ungodly sound. Kenelm quickly grabbed the crystal from Roben’s body, before fleeing with his friend. Behind him, he could hear the man scream.

“I’ll get ya, boy! I'll skin ya! Ya get ya just desert one day, I say!”

They ran for what seemed like hours. Although there was no way Willem could chase after them, they still feared he’d catch up to them. The three friends soon came across another temple, similar to the ones previously. At first, Kenelm wasn't too keen on staying in another one. However, Mollie insisted. There were still a few hours before sunrise.

As they entered, Kenelm noticed a figure. Lying on the temple ground was a dead body; the corpse of a city guard. The man couldn’t have died more than a few days ago. The corpse was only now beginning to decompose.

“Oh chaff,” Mollie remarked. She examined the guard’s body. “Stab wound… his armour didn’t protect him. I wonder who did this.”

It didn’t take long to answer that question. In the corner of the temple’s room was a backpack – Kenelm's brother's backpack.

“Oh no,” Mollie grasped. “Finn’s a murderer too?”

“You don’t know…” Kenelm probably wasn’t the best person to say this. He’d just killed a person. He wouldn’t kill a guard though. Neither would his brother. Something else happened here, he wasn’t too sure.

“You’re both murderers…” she continued.

They waited for the sun to rise. Staying on the opposite side from where the body was, neither kid talked or uttered a word. Kenelm thought about his actions. Was it right to kill Roben. They might have killed him, he thought. There was no way to know if they’d gone after him. Kenelm decided it was best not to brood over it. The more he thought, the more it hurt.

Daybreak had arrived. Kenelm picked his brother’s backpack up. He noticed his brother had packed the photograph of their mother in the bag. He stared at the woman’s face. He wondered what she would’ve thought if she knew at least one of her sons was a murderer. Mollie's reaction was still on his mind.

Slinging the backpack behind his back, Kenelm followed his friends. He knew if his brother had been at the temple recently, he had to be nearby. Maybe then he’d be able to ask what’d occurred. And maybe, if it was Finneas who’d killed the guard, he could have someone to talk to… someone who might understand.