Paul Thompson - The Middle of Nowhere

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.”