A Starving People, Scene v1

“Rise and shine sleepy heads. We have a long day ahead of us, and it starts with resurfacing the caravan,” announced Devin.

Everyone groaned loudly in an exhausted stupor. The wheels of the caravan were submerged nearly to the axels. The rain had finally stopped, but the ground was still muddy. Devin lead the groggy group to the front wagon and patted the edge of it. “Let’s start with this one. Six on each side, let’s go. We have a lot of distance to cover. If you want to sleep in a bed tonight, we have to get moving.”

Nakita lead Kismet by the wrist toward the back of the caravan. “Come with me.” She released her grip once they reached the rear. “Since you’re a Catheran, you’re well attuned with the elements of nature, right?”

“I suppose so.”

Nakita knelt beside a back wheel and placed her palms on the floor beside it. “Help me raise the wagon.”

Kismet positioned herself at the other back wheel as Nakita began counting down, “On three. One…two…three.”

The pair sent a surge of energy into the ground, solidifying the earth around the wheel, while raising it up. Kismet practiced manipulating the earth through many of her sleepless nights, but never had she used it to lift such a large amount of weight. It was a bit taxing, but she surprised herself with being able to resurface the wheel so quickly.

“Tch. I guess Catheran blood surpasses years of training,” spat Nakita, who progressed slowly with her side.

The irritation in her face left Kismet uneasy. She slowed down her pace on the second wheel. “I usually practice throughout the night, since there isn’t much else to do.”

“Must be nice having all that extra time,” said the witch, sourly.

The Catheran dared not speak anymore. The lack of sleep was as plain as day on the sorceress’ face, and even more in her patience. Kismet slipped her a bit of help as she worked on her side.

“Stop it. I don’t want your pity.” Nakita’s voice pierced her ears like needles. She could feel the young witch’s icy glare through the wagon that separated them.

The air was thick and moist as they lifted the wagon out of the ground. Kismet eyed the ridge as they continued uphill through the pass. As the path grew steeper, it became more and more silent. The birds, even the wind, seemed to have disappeared.

As the end of the incline came into view, a man walked into view on the ridge in front of the caravan. Devin signaled for everyone to stop. “Who goes there?”

“Devin. It must have been almost two years now.”

“Hazalin? I guess it has. And if the stories are true, then this won’t be the kind of reunion I would hope for,” replied the general.

“Unfortunately, that is the case.” All along the ridge which surrounded the caravan rose a small army of Kival archers, arrows aimed and ready. The soldiers instinctively brandished their weapons, trembling in fear at their grim situation.

Devin and Nakita, although fully aware of their situation, maintained a stoic front. Devin never took his eyes off Hazalin. “Eleven years ago. Lokem archers lined theses ridges to ward off the invading Cathera. They expected a smooth operation, but they grossly underestimated the Cathera and nearly forty soldiers died. Surely you don’t want to make the same mistake again.”

Hazalin’s face briefly flashed with agitation and remorse. “Those soldiers died as heroes. If it were not for their bravery, thousands of people would have died by the fangs of those monsters. Besides, I’m sure the both of us would prefer avoiding any unnecessary bloodshed.”

“I’m sure you don’t expect us to just hand over the caravan.”

Hazalin let out an amused huff. He waved Devin’s words away with a loose hand. “Of course not. After all, you wouldn’t want your precious sister country starve. Fortunately, for the both of you, we’re not as greedy as The Republic. All we ask is for you to release your three back wagons.”

“The Republic won’t take too kindly to losing a quarter of its food shipment. Considering how desperate they are, it’d only be a matter of time before it becomes a manhunt if this continues.”

“You can tell The Republic what happened here if you wish, but don’t forget who we are, Devin. We’re fully aware of Lokem’s situation. We’re the ones who suffer for it, not them. Day after day we go hungry, scrounging for food, eating whatever we can find just to stay alive. Don't you see? We’re only taking what is rightfully ours. Until we establish our new home, we need food as well.”

Devin scanned the archers above them. The odds were horribly against them with the two dozen soldiers outnumbered two to one. Even if they could make it through, heavy casualties would be inevitable. “Release the back three wagons.”

The three wagons slowly rolled back down the hill away from them. Hazalin signaled for the archers to retract their weapons. “You’ve made an honorable decision, Devin. You not only saved the lives of those here, but also the lives of many of my people.”

The Kival watched the caravan continue its march through the pass with Devin in the lead. He passed under Hazalin, leaving behind words that echoed in the Kival commander’s ears. “My pride is not worth risking the lives of my soldiers. That is all.”



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