Ordadus- Chapter Six (Part One)

ANDREW’S TROUBLED NIGHT began the moment the sun set. As the day was dying down and the shadows within the cabin were drawing themselves further across the cabin floor, the sound of a single gunshot thundered through the buzzing valley.  For that moment, Tomas and Leigh were hardly alarmed by it, and so neither was Andrew, for it was, he reasoned, a common sound in a military camp.  If anything, he was annoyed that the startling gunshot had interrupted his precise activity of counting the rows of wooden beams above his head, something he had resorted to as a way to pass the time. 

But as dozens of soldiers galloped by and a frantic din settled over the camp within seconds, there was a definite cause for concern.  The guards glanced at each other.  Andrew sat up. 

Leigh grabbed a lantern and left the cabin without a minute's hesitation, and when he returned a minute later, fear was clearly etched on his face. “They killed another Slate, Tomas.”

“Another one? What do you mean, Leigh? Was there another one we hadn’t heard about?”

“Yep. One guy was found dead in the herd just this morning with an arrow in his heart, but it was kept quiet. Just now someone saw one of the filthy murderers poking his bow out of the trees and shot at him, but it was too late.”

“Who exactly was killed, do you know?”

“I heard something about the eye-patch guy; maybe him. I don’t know about the other one.” Leigh ruffled his fiery hair in exasperation and threw an irritated glance at Andrew. “All these things 'been happening since this guy came.”

Andrew felt a flare of desperate anger spread in his chest. His breath quickened and words sprang to his tongue, but he swallowed instead and suppressed them. Stay calm, he told himself. He knew it was the best thing to do.

The commotion gradually quieted down, and he fell asleep when it became too dark to count the wooden beams. Over the course of the night he was woken several times by the barking of llargos and the cries of different birds. He heard the guards’ voices once when Tomas’ shift was over and it was Leigh’s turn to stay awake.

The next morning, the guards kicked Andrew awake before the sun had risen and ordered him to stand. His head pounded painfully and his vision swam as he got to his feet, but if anything he was grateful for the water Tomas held to his lips.

The air was fresh but bitterly cold, and Andrew’s pounding head ached more because of it.  Goosebumps peppered his exposed arms, and his feet were cold. He miserably stared at the ground as he walked and felt sorry for himself.

Afghanistan had been different, for he had at least understood what was happening. He had been on a team of other Americans like him who had deliberately chosen to venture into a foreign country with guns in their hands. Facing this strange, unknown world alone was so incredibly different. When Captain Rawley had struck Andrew’s head with a rifle, it had forced him into a fearful submission of all that these military men had the power to do. He wasn’t even sure if he was alive—for all he knew, he could have been killed in a landmine explosion and this was his afterlife. He pondered this for a moment, then finally spoke his mind.

He looked up at Tomas, who was riding on his left, and asked, like a child would, “Is this Heaven?”

“What?”

Leigh laughed. “Is that where you come from, stranger? A place called Heaven?” He scratched his jaw and glanced at Tomas. “You know, I think this guy is genuinely lost. Can’t even put a finger on where he is.”

“He knows where he is,” Tomas replied. 

Leigh, a mocking grin on his face, leaned over and loudly whispered to Andrew, “This valley here is called Azlana, and it’s located smack in the middle of a country known as Ordadus. Wherever, eh... 'Heavy,' or whatever you call it is, it’s a long ways from here.”

“Sit up straight, Leigh. Lieutenant’s looking at us.”  Tomas seemed annoyed by Leigh's jovial nature after the occurrences of the previous night.

Leigh obeyed, but a smile still lingered on his lips.  Andrew resumed his inspection of the gravely earth, his brow furrowed in thought. 

The cabin that awaited them at the top of a hill was different than any of the others. As far as Andrew could tell, it was the only two-story building in the valley. Unlike every other surrounding cabin, its roof caught the first and last rays of sunlight that seeped through the mountains. From its second floor, he thought, certainly the entirety of Azlana could be seen, for his view on the hill itself provided a beautiful vista of the valley.  In the early morning, the valley was blanketed in a soft shadow, and the peaks of the taller mountains were shrouded in clouds.

Two faelk herds were on opposite ends of the valley. The one he had seen yesterday was near the entrance and fenced within was the willow tree. The other herd, the one that he had not seen, was positioned where two rows of mountains that flanked the valley swept down into a sea of trees.

“I don’t think the captain’s here yet,” Tomas said as they dismounted and tied their faelk to a hitching post.

Leigh stepped onto the porch and knocked on the door. He hugged his chest as a cool wind swept past the silent cabin. “I hate this place,” he muttered. He sat on the porch steps and Tomas joined him. Shuffling his feet a bit to keep warm, Andrew turned to stare blankly at the dreary sky.

Around two dozen mounted soldiers passed by below, sharply dressed in navy uniforms and caps. Their equality was impressive and certainly formidable: each tall faelk was sleek, black, and well groomed, and each rider was clean-shaven and neat. They did not so much as glance up at the guards and their prisoner as they went by. A few minutes later, the two guards rose to their feet. Andrew spotted a lone rider picking his way through the military camps, making his way towards them. His heart sank, for the faelk—aided by its long, sinewy legs as it climbed the final hill with herculean ease—had Captain Rawley on its back. 

Tomas stepped forward to tie it with the others as the captain dismounted and rather irritably removed his navy jacket, passing Andrew and the guards wordlessly and without acknowledgment. He unlocked the door and uttered an order over his shoulder as he went inside: “Put him in the chair upstairs and light the fire.”

The cabin was just as cold inside, but, nonetheless, the promise of a fire was encouraging. The downstairs area of the cabin was intriguing to Andrew’s search for knowledge about, as Leigh had called it, Ordadus: he caught a glimpse of a map on the wall and a bookshelf filled with several books and other items. But the guards pushed him past the captain—who was impatiently rummaging through a cabinet of what looked like suspended metal rods—and up the stairs.

Comparatively, the upstairs room was small and uninteresting. There were two curtained windows and a round central hearth, where stacks of wood were piled and ready. As Tomas lit the fire, Leigh led Andrew to the only chair in the room, and a bizarre chair at that. His wrists were untied, only to be bound to the chair’s arms with thick strips of leather. The right arm of the chair seemed normal, but as Leigh tested it, Andrew saw that the left arm had joints for its angle and height to be adjusted. At the end of the arm, there was a little metal bar that Andrew's fingers could slip under and hold on to. “How’s this supposed to work?” Leigh asked. “Can’t you lock it into place somehow?”

Tomas shrugged. “Wait for the captain to do it.” He turned back to kindle the fire, and the hearth finally burst into flames. Andrew let the fire’s warmth seep into his bones as he watched the smoke drift upwards through a round hole in the ceiling.

“Tomas?” Leigh whispered, rubbing his arms. “Do you think it’s right for the captain to be doing this?”

“I doubt it’s legal.”

“The Noble’s gonna be here in what—two months? Shouldn’t he just stick this guy in a locked cabin and wait?”

Tomas shrugged, but didn’t reply, for they heard Captain Rawley’s footsteps on the stairs.