The Middle of Nowhere

CHAPTER SIX

There it is-Nowhere.”

Malek stood with Howland uth Ungen on the highest prominence for miles around, a round-topped hill the farmers called Caper Mountain. Mountain it was not. It rose only forty feet or so above the surrounding plain, but that made it mountain enough for these parts.

Spread out below them were a patchwork of fields and gardens, diligently tended throughout the growing season. Barley covered the most ground, and the green stalks were browning as much from lack of rain as from the coming harvest. Here and there swatches of dark green stood out among the brown lakes of grain. Garden plots were watered daily. Tender vegetables needed more sustenance than hardy grain.

Sir Howland noticed none of this. All he could see was the rude horseshoe of houses in the midst of a flat plain. Tiny figures moved around the gray dot Malek indicated was the village’s sole well.

How could anyone defend such a defenseless spot? Was it even possible?

The Knight palmed the sweat from the stubble growing out of his scalp. Hot and tired though he was, he felt good and strong. The journey on foot had purged the toxins from his body, cleansing him of much bad wine and self-pity. The farmers’ cause had paid him more that a full belly-it had revived Howland’s honor. For him, duty was an appetite no less sharp than hunger or thirst. Now, though, when he first beheld the ground he was asked to defend, his spirits sank into his dusty boots.

On the rearward slope, the rest of the hired swords lolled, watching kites and crows wheeling through the cloudless sky. Nils, Wilf, and Caeta chafed at the delay. They were near enough home to smell the barley growing, but Howland had insisted on this stop. He would not rush his troops into an unknown situation, he said firmly.

Ezu amused Khorr and Carver with tales of distant lands. When the story called for it, he pulled out some artifact from his satchel. Most were inconsequential-a string of beads, a thick disk of glass, a cup with a needle floating inside-but backed by Ezu’s strange charm they became wondrous relics.

“And this,” he said, brandishing the glass disk, “was made by the glassmasters of Oe. A fantastic place, Oe. Every house, grand or mean, is made of glass.”

“Let me see!” said Carver. Ezu placed the disk on his small palm. It didn’t seem so special as he examined it. It was just a round lump of clear glass, not even a pretty color.

“Hold it by the edge and look through it,” said Ezu.

The kender did, and exclaimed, “Khorr! Your eyes are huge!”

The minotaur felt along his massive brow. “They’re no bigger than usual.”

Carver lowered the glass. “Heh! So they are.” He peered through Ezu’s toy again, and once more Khorr’s face swelled to monstrous proportions.

The kender laughed.

Khorr said, “Let me see.” He looked through the glass, first at Carver, then Ezu. “It makes things look bigger,” the minotaur said.

“Right-right!” Ezu replied. “That is what it does. In Oe, they call this a ‘lens.’ ”

Carver snatched the disk from Khorr’s thick fingers. He looked at everything through the glass-grass, pebbles, Ezu, and a frowning Raika, sitting ten feet away with her sword bare, guarding the quiescent bounty hunter.

“Ho, she’s even bigger,” he said. A new target occurred to him. “My foot!” He bent down, resting his chin on one knee, and gazed at his bare brown toes through Ezu’s lens.

The sun was behind him. Rays gathered by the glass came to a point in the center of Carver’s big toenail.

“Yow!”

The kender leaped into the air, arms and legs flailing. Ezu’s disk went flying, but the smiling traveler caught it with surprising deftness before it was lost in the grass.

“I’m burned!” Carver yelled, clutching his foot.

“What’s all the row?” muttered Howland, glancing down the hill. “The kender. Should’ve known.”

“Well, can it be done?” asked Malek urgently.

“On my word as a Knight, I don’t think so. No.” Howland swept a hand across the distant vista. “The terrain has no more relief than a plate. There’s nothing here to impede horsemen. Even if we could ambush part of Rakell’s force, there’s aren’t enough of us to stop him from overrunning the village.”

Malek’s eyes burned. “It is hopeless then!”

Howland put a hand on the young farmer’s shoulder. “Nothing’s hopeless, lad. What’s needed is another way. I came here thinking like a Knight, ready to defend a regular town. That’s not what we have. Your village is more like …” He groped for a metaphor. “Like an island in a sea of grass. Islands can be defended.”

“Perhaps Raika will have some ideas. She’s a sailor.”

“Hmmm. She might, if we can get her to forget about Robien for a moment.”

Since capturing the ranger, Raika had not left Robien’s side. She was plainly proud to have taken so famed a bounty hunter, and she treated him as her personal prize. Robien, for his part, seemed strangely content to be a prisoner. When the situation in Nowhere was explained to him, he neither agreed nor refused to join the defenders. He merely watched and listened to all that went on around him, as Raika watched him in turn.

Hume climbed Caper Mountain and took his place at Howland’s side. As the only other trained soldier in the band, he’d become Howland’s lieutenant.

“There’s our castle,” Howland said ironically. “What do you think?”

“It has walls of air.” Hume shaded his eyes with one hand. “How far is it to Rakell’s camp?”

Malek looked stricken. “No one knows.”

Howland nodded vigorously. “We must find out where it is. It’s always better to carry the fight to the enemy’s stronghold. Good thinking, Hume.”

They descended the hill and roused their comrades. Carver limped into line alongside Khorr, eyes shooting darts at the bland Ezu.

“We’re going to the village,” Howland said. “It’s vital at this point that the enemy not know we’re here. For this reason I’m dividing us into four groups, each to be lead in by one of the farmers. Hume and I will follow you, Malek. Caeta leads Khorr and Carver. Nils, you take Raika and the traveler-”

“I’ll not go without him,” Raika replied, nodding at Robien.

Howland sighed. “Very well. Raika and Robien will go with Nils. That leaves Wilf to guide Ezu and Amergin. Remember, quiet and calm are vital. No unnecessary displays or tomfoolery.” He stared meaningfully at Carver. “We’ll meet at Malek’s house.”

Howland, Hume, and Malek departed. By the time they disappeared into the head-high grass at the foot of Caper Mountain, Nils started out with his strange pair, Raika with sword bared and Robien with his hands tied behind his back.

Wilf led his two down the north side of the hill, intending to swing wide around the fields and enter Nowhere from the north. That left Caeta with Khorr and Carver alone on the hill.

“So,” said the kender, rubbing his hands. “Where’s the gold mine around here?”

“There is no gold mine.”

“Beg your pardon. I meant silver mine.”

“No silver, either.”

“Jewels?”

Caeta shouldered the threadbare sack she carried her traveling gear in. “You’ve been told, kender, time and time again. There’s no treasure! We brought back fighters to free us from Rakell’s raiders. That’s all!”

She stalked down the slope. Khorr gave Carver a mildly reproachful look and followed her.

“Yeah, right!” Carver muttered. “No treasure? Ha! You just don’t want to share it fair and square!” He stamped his foot, wincing from the burn he gave himself with Ezu’s lens. “Think I’ll give up and go home? Not me! Not Carver Reedwhistle, master of adventure!” Realizing no one was listening, he hurried after Caeta and the minotaur. “Wait for me!” he shouted. When they didn’t, he repeated his call louder and louder each time.

Not half an hour had passed since Howland had demanded stealth from his followers. Already the warriors’ quiet entry into Nowhere had been shattered by the irrepressible kender.

Wind raised eddies of dust around the silent huts. Malek stopped at the well to offer Howland and Hume fresh water. The old bucket, broken the day Rakell kidnapped Laila, Larem, and the others, had been replaced by a flimsy container made of woven grass. It leaked copiously as Howland raised it to his lips.

“Where is everybody?” Malek wondered out loud. “It’s strange. No one working in the fields, no children playing in the shade …”

“Perhaps Rakell came back sooner than expected and took them,” said Hume.

“No, they must be here.” Howland lowered the grass bucket. “We saw them from the hill. They’re hiding from us. They’re afraid.”

Malek reddened. “Fools! They can see I’m with you!”

“They fear strangers,” the Knight said. “Can you blame them after all that has happened?”

Malek ran to the nearest house and rattled the door. “Come out! Come out, Vank! You too, Dora! Bakar, Fayn, Luki, where are you?”

He ran to the next house, calling his neighbors’ names. Howland and Hume remained at the well, embarrassed but outwardly stoic.

Malek fell to kicking at doors and cursing his fellow villagers. No one emerged until the others arrived. Not until Nils, Wilf, and especially Caeta returned were the farmers reassured by familiar faces. Slowly, one house at a time, they opened their doors and peeked out.

“Come out, you damned rabbits!” Malek raged. “Greet our guests! They’ve come here to fight for you. Can you not show them some gratitude?”

Gradually the people of Nowhere collected on the common ground between their homes. Mothers hugged children close to them, while husbands nervously flexed work-worn hands around their garden tools.

An aged villager appeared in a gap in the crowd. Caeta gave a little cry and rushed forward to greet her father. Not waiting for an invitation, Howland also went to meet him. Hume stayed by the well with the recruits.

Caeta wiped happy tears from her eyes. “Papa, this is Sir Howland, a Knight who’s come to help us.”

“Greetings, my lord,” the old man said. “Thank you for seeing my daughter safely home. I never thought to see her or the boys again.”

“We’ve come a long way,” Howland replied briskly. “There is much to do. Where can I quarter my people?”

After a brief consultation between elder and daughter, Caeta said, “Marren’s hut is empty. The raiders took him and his girl Laila. You may sleep there.”

“I shall want to meet with every able-bodied man and woman in the village. We’ve come to fight your enemies, but we will need plenty of help.”

“I will call a village gathering after sunset,” said the elder. He grasped Howland’s hand with his bony one. Aged or not, his grip was hard.

“We are determined to fight,” rasped the elder. “To the death.”

Howland managed to smile. “A true warrior doesn’t fight to the death,” he countered. “He fights until his enemies are defeated-or dead.”

Breaking away from the elder and his daughter, Howland signaled the others to join him. He led them across the dusty square to the hut they were told to occupy. Frightened, curious farmers openly stared at their would-be saviors. Few of them had ever been more than a day’s walk from home, and an ebony-skinned woman, two elves, a minotaur, a kender, and Ezu with his exotic features filled them with wonder. At one point a small boy darted out from behind his mother and ran up to Khorr. With exaggerated care, he lightly touched the minotaur’s brawny flank.

“Yes?” asked Khorr in his cavern-deep voice.

With a yelp, the child fled back to his mother.

“They’re scared,” said Robien. “Scared because we’re different.”

“I hardly know what I’m doing here,” the Saifhumi woman muttered.

“A noble thing.”

She snorted. “You think so?”

The bounty hunter halted to look over the wide-eyed crowd watching them. “Until this moment I didn’t believe Sir Howland’s story about oppressed farmers. Now I see it’s true.”

“Move along.” She gave him a shove.

Ezu, trailing the rest, paused to examine a group of villagers clustered in front of a pair of joined huts. Smiling and speaking in a soothing voice, he fingered the women’s bone hair clasps and the men’s tools.

“There is little metal here,” he observed to one of the inhabitants. “Perhaps a trade-a hair clasp for-”

Amergin came back and took him in tow.

Marren’s hut was a single room, with a pounded clay floor and central hearth. Because Marren was blind, what few pieces of furniture he and Laila had were fastened securely in place. Raika promptly claimed the bed, a simple wooden frame filled with moss and straw.

“Ah!” She reclined and for the first time in days took her eyes off Robien.

Howland entered. “Listen, all. We’re to meet with the village elder and his people tonight. Before then, I have tasks for you.”

“Fire away, captain.” Raika cupped her hands behind her head and closed her eyes.

He ignored her. “To my eye, this village appears indefensible. If Rakell is half the soldier I imagine he is, he thinks so too. That may give us an advantage. An enemy is most vulnerable when he believes he has the upper hand.”

“What shall we do?” asked Hume.

“For now, we’ve got to whip these villagers into fighting shape. Malek says there are twenty-five or so capable of fighting, but they must be properly led. Otherwise, they’ll just be sheep driven before wolves.”

Carver made baa-baaing noises. Howland ignored him.

“Each of us who is able will take six or eight farmers in hand and teach them how to move and fight together,” he said.

“Are we not all able?” asked Khorr.

“Ezu is not a warrior. Neither is Carver. As for Robien-I’d be glad to have you with us, but as a prisoner, you’re under no obligation to fight for your captors,” said the knight.

The Kagonesti ranger, kneeling with his hands still tied, looked thoughtful. “I don’t know what fate is planned for me,” he said, “but I would rather fight free than stay bound. Captivity is death for a freeborn elf like me. I will not try to escape.”

“That’s good enough for me.” Howland ordered Robien cut free.

Raika protested. “What’s to stop him from fleeing in the night and betraying the lot of us to the Quen Bortherhood?”

“The choice is his.” Howland’s tone was clear. The matter was not open for debate.

“What about Amergin? Has he no say?”

The barefoot forester was leaning against the doorway, watching but not speaking, as usual. When Raika invoked him he said, “If Robien gives up his contract to return me to Robann, I have no objection to his fighting with us.”

“A contract is a contract,” the bounty hunter replied tersely.

Raika pointed triumphantly at the stubborn elf.

“You’re making this difficult,” said Hume.

“Honor has a way of making life difficult. It also gives life meaning.” Robien shrugged his pinioned shoulders. “On the other hand, the Brotherhood did not specify when I was to bring my quarry in. Given the circumstances, I believe it could be a long time before I return Amergin to them.”

Howland said, “Cut him loose.”

Hume hacked through the rawhide lacing. Robien stood, rubbing his raw, chafed wrists. “Thank you,” he said to Howland.

Howland was somber. “Don’t thank me. You may have agreed to your own death.”

They discussed arming the farmers with makeshift weapons. At last Carver spoke up.

“I can make whippiks for the villagers and teach them how to use them. Anyone can use a whippik, even human children.”

“True,” Hume said thoughtfully. “Many of the village children are no bigger than kender.”

Carver made a face. “Size isn’t everything, you know.”

Khorr raised a meaty hand shyly. “What’s a whippik?”

Carver strode to the hearth. “A whippik,” he explained, “is a throwing stick with loop of gut or twine on one end. By sitting a stone or dart in the loop, a whippik can propel the missile almost as far as a bow. They’re simple to make. All we need is a piece of straight wood as long as the thrower’s arm. And projectiles, of course.”

“All right,” said Howland. “Carver, you’re in charge of the village children old enough to use a whippik.”

Grinning fiercely, the kender swaggered back to his spot between Ezu and Khorr and squatted on the floor.

“What other weapons can we make?” asked the Knight.

“Spears,” said Hume.

“Lash a stone to a handle and you have a mace,” said Raika.

“Slings,” said Robien, glancing at Amergin.

“Our friend is deadly with one,” Howland agreed, “but can you teach simple-minded farmers to sling?”

“In a year of practice, yes.”

Howland nodded. “You have twelve days.”

“They’d be better off throwing rocks with their bare hands,” protested Amergin.

Howland sighed. “Try to train them anyway.”

“While you’re working the villagers, Hume and I, with Malek and his brother, are going to look for Rakell’s stronghold and scout it out. If we can, we’ll free some of the captives he’s holding, while thinning his ranks as much as we can.”

“What about defenses for the village?” asked Raika. “Once you attack Rakell, he’ll know we’re around. He may strike back before we’re ready to stand up to him.”

Ezu stood. Smiling as always, he said, “Hello? This one has ideas along those lines.”

Everyone looked at the stranger skeptically. Not intimidated, Ezu continued.

“I’ve been to many places, in many lands. I’ve seen all sorts of fortifications, from high stone walls to the permanent rings of fire around the citadel of Kamkorah …” Temporarily lost in his memories, his voice trailed off.

Howland cleared his throat, and Ezu snapped back to the present. “I may be able to recall some feature we can use to shield these poor people from their tormentors.”

Tired from the long, hot journey, Howland was in no mood to listen to the foreigner’s odd, elliptical speech. “Fine. Study the matter and try to come up with a physical defense for Nowhere.” To Hume he muttered, “At least it will keep the fellow busy and out of our way.”

Howland dismissed his troops until sunset, when they would gather in full conclave with the villagers. “You’re free till then,” he said. “Keep to the village, but stay out of sight! Rakell may have sentinels watching everything that happens here.”

The defenders of Nowhere drifted out until only Howland, Hume, and Raika were left. The old Knight wanted to draw up a sketch-map of the vicinity. He and Hume discussed the lay of the land and ways to defend it. Raika seemed asleep.

“You’d better keep an eye on our world traveler,” she said, her voice flat with fatigue. “I don’t trust him.”

“Seems like a harmless fool to me,” Hume replied.

“Those people were going to hang him for a spy.”

“Which he freely told us,” Howland pointed out.

Raika opened one eye. “The best way to disguise a lie is by telling the truth.”

Howland nodded grudgingly. “Since you don’t have Robien to watch any longer, maybe you want the job?”

She never heard his jest. Raika, her back to both men, was already snoring loudly.