Honor Crowned (5 page)

“Reason it out,”
Jorem told himself.  What makes the ground soft?  Water was the first thing to come to mind, but that didn’t make sense.  If there was water out there, it would be fairly obvious.  Plowing would soften the first couple of hand spans, but not much more.  Digging would do it, but who would dig straight lines across…?

“Ditches!” Jorem exclaimed.

Cort just looked at him as if to say ‘Duh, it’s about time!’

“There used to be ditches across the field for watering the crops.”  Now Jorem was getting excited.  This information could save a great deal of work.

“How do you know where the ditches were?” Jorem asked.

“Thin da books,” Cort replied as though this were an incredibly obvious thing.  “Aw da books of aw da times is in da book woom.”

“Of course they are!” Jorem grinned.  “And you’ve read them, haven’t you?”

“Not aw of dem.” Again the exasperated look.  “Some don’t wead an’ some too daw.”

Jorem seemed to be getting the hang of Cort’s speech.  He thought of the library at the castle and had to agree with Cort.  There were some books you just couldn’t read due to a language difference or damage, and other books were on subjects too dull to endure.

“Will you help us tomorrow?”

At Cort’s raised eyebrows, Jorem explained.  “Will you mark where the old ditches were so others will know where to dig?  You’d be in charge of that part.”

“Nobody wistens,” Cort said in sort of a blank way.

Jorem understood Cort’s predicament.  He’d had the same problem back home at the castle, and he hadn’t had a speech barrier to work around.  There had to be a way.  Jorem looked about the room and spotted Neth.  She’d been there the whole time, just a short ways off, watching them.

“Neth,” Jorem said, looking straight at the mercenary-turned-lady.  “Would you mind being the point on this sword?”

Nethira folded her arms and cocked her head at Cort.  “Cort here says where, I tell them how far and how deep?”

“That’s right, and you can use your usual persuasiveness to convince everyone about his choices.”

Neth got that wicked gleam in her eyes Jorem had come to dread during his training with her.  Whatever she had in mind, someone was not going to be happy.  She took a peculiar delight in getting her way.  Others’ feelings and preferences held no sway with her.

“Cort,” Jorem said to the young man, “until this conflict is over, I’m naming you as Provisional Marshal to oversee building the defenses around the Keep.  Anything you want to do, tell Neth.  If you think it really important, find me.”

The light that ignited in Cort’s eyes even brought a smile to Neth’s face.  He stood a little straighter.  The distant look in his eyes became a bit more focused and the serious look on his face let Jorem know he’d chosen well.

“I wiw do it good.  To keep us safe.”

Cort turned and left the room.  The old woman had to hurry to catch up with him as he walked out the door.

“Do you think that was wise?” Neth asked.  “He’s not exactly the sharpest peg in the sack.”

Jorem nodded in the direction Cort had gone.  “I think he’s got more going on than any of us realize and he’s far sharper than most of us.  Keep an eye on him and listen to what he says.  I think he may be a key to our surviving this ordeal.”

Chapter IX

First light found a handful of people walking around the cleared expanse in front of the Keep.  Jorem was not at all surprised to see Cort there with a handful of stakes marking the locations for the trenches across the clearing.  Neth was dutifully at Cort’s side.  As Cort placed each stake, Neth instructed the nearest person to bring a handcart and buckets to the area.
Whether Cort had planned it or not, he had started marking the locations farthest from the Keep first.

Knowing the task had to be done wasn’t much of a motivator.  Still, if they never started, they’d never finish.  Jorem himself returned to the courtyard to get a handcart.  Before heading back out, he threw a few shovels and buckets into the cart.  Taking his cart to the center of the farthest trench line, Jorem emptied the cart of its contents.  Taking a shovel, Jorem sank the blade deep into the ground.  The soil was indeed soft as Cort had said it would be.

Putting his back into the work, Jorem threw shovelful after shovelful of dirt into the cart.  When the cart was full, he pushed it to the edge of the chasm and dumped it in.  A peak over the edge assured him there was no danger of filling in the chasm.  Sheer walls reached deep into the earth at both sides of the clearing.

As the sun cleared the horizon, an old woman interrupted Jorem’s labors to force a cup of water into his hands.  Looking about, Jorem was pleasantly surprised at the number of people digging and moving soil.  He hadn’t realized there were that many people still at the Keep.

There were children everywhere.  Mostly they were playing while the elderly worked at digging the trenches.  Often they were more of a hindrance than a help.  Jorem’s back was already aching.  He could only imagine the hardship this was putting on those who were advanced in age.

Even though the soil was not hard packed where they were digging, it still had to be pried up.  It occurred to Jorem that if he had someone else to lift the soil up to the cart, so that all he had to do was pry the soil loose, he would be able to go much faster.  Not to mention how much easier it would be on his back.  Spotting a group of children playing at some game with small rocks, Jorem called out to them.

“Hey!”

One of the boys looked up at Jorem’s shout.  Jorem pointed at the boy.

“You!”

With the boy’s attention on Jorem, the other children looked up.

“You, you, you, and you.  Come over here.”

The children, three boys and two girls, got up from their game and walked over to Jorem.  Some of them seemed a bit unsure, but came anyway.  They were all very young and full of energy; energy Jorem needed to harness.

“I need your help.”

Some of them brightened at the opportunity to help out, while one or two looked at Jorem a little dubiously.  Jorem pointed to a pile of buckets setting nearby.

“Each of you grab a bucket and come back here.”

They did as he had told them and, when they returned, he explained what he wanted them to do.

“Okay, line up,” Jorem instructed.  “As I loosen the dirt with this shovel, I want you to come up one at a time and scoop up some dirt with your bucket.  Don’t fill it too full or you won’t be able to lift it.

“Once you’ve got enough dirt in your bucket, carry it over to the cart and dump it in.  Then come back and get in line.  Do you think you can do that?”

One or two nods, a couple of shoulder shrugs and a blank look were their responses.  It took a few rounds before they got the hang of it, but once they settled into a routine, Jorem was amazed at how much faster and easier it was.  With their help, he was easily moving three times the dirt that he had before.  In the next half mark, they dug out as much as he had all morning.

Jorem stopped digging and the five children looked at him expectantly.  “This is amazing!”  Jorem told them.  “We have to share this idea with the others.  If your friends can help them as much as you’ve helped me, we’ll be done in half the time.”

He actually got a few grins from the children for his praise of their work.

“You five are going to be the official dig trainers.  I want each of you to gather five other kids, take them over to one of the adults and show them what to do.  If anyone asks you why, you can tell them Prince Jorem said so.

“As soon as you’ve got a group working with an adult, find five more kids and start over.” 

The children hesitated until Jorem shooed them along.  “When you run out of kids to help out or adults in need of help, come back here and give me a hand.”

************

At about mid-day, a group of adults came out of the Keep heavily laden with baskets.  As they spread across the field, they began distributing the contents.  Wherever the baskets went, work stopped.  Adults and children sat down where they were and concentrated on eating the food provided.
             

A young boy approached Jorem with a basket in hand.  Before the lad had a chance to open the basket, Jorem pointed to another group still toiling at their task.

“Serve them first.  I can wait.”  Jorem smiled at the boy and gestured again to the others. 

The boy shrugged his shoulders and went off to do as he’d been told.  Twice more, Jorem sent the servers to others.  Not until he was certain everyone else had been fed did he accept some for himself.

Jorem would have liked to have taken the time to enjoy the meal.  The food was basic meat and cheese sandwiches, but whoever had prepared the sandwiches hadn’t stinted on the meat or the cheese.  Although he wolfed down the sandwich, he did take the time to lick every morsel from his fingers.

Shortly after he started digging again, the five children he had recruited returned.  He had them take breaks one at a time to keep them from wearing out.  For himself, he didn’t stop until it was too dark to see.  Every shovel full he didn’t move would have to be moved by someone else.  His had been the first shovel into the ground and it would be the last out.

Leaning on his shovel, Jorem watched as the men, women and children made their way back to the Keep.  An elderly gentleman stood beside a silver-haired woman sitting on the ground.  The man reached down and helped the woman to stand.  Once up, she melted into the man’s arms and they just stood there, holding one another.

“Someday,”
thought Jorem,
“someday I want…”

In the blink of an eye he found himself standing in a dark cavern.  Jen stood before him.  Her eyes were tightly closed and her arms were stretched out to her sides, palms out and fingers spread wide.  She wore a simple tunic, so white it nearly glowed in the meager light filtering through the cavern.

A flash of light behind him caused him to whirl around and draw his sword.  Only then did he realize he was not really here, not physically anyway.  The sword he’d drawn was just a transparent image of his own.  Whether it could actually do him any good he didn’t know.

Another light flashed and struck an invisible barrier just inches from his face.  The light spread across the barrier like a webbing of cracks on a window.  As the cracks intersected, small chunks of the barrier fell to the floor and disappeared.

Jorem braced himself for whatever onslaught he was about to face.  He knew most magic had no effect when used directly on him.  What a mage-born fireball thrown in his face would do he preferred not to find out.  Mage fire boiled water just as well as any other fire.  Besides, he wasn’t really here, so he should be safe—well, maybe.

“Jorem, no!”  Jen’s voice came from behind him.  “It’s just training.  They won’t really hurt me.  They’re trying to help me learn how to shield properly.”

Jorem wondered who “they” were, but no one approached to satisfy his curiosity.

“Who?” Jorem asked.

“The Noorsai.
 
They live here.  I don’t really know much about them except that they know a lot about magic and they serve someone called Echalain.  They won’t come near when I’m projecting.  They say it’s too ‘brogutal’.  That’s their word.  I think it means strong or big or old.  I’m still trying to figure that out.”

Jen’s shields had proven to be a major problem.  When she was able to get them up, they started to crumble within moments.  After her shields crumbled to useless shards, she hadn’t known she needed to dispel them.  She had ended up with layer after layer of shield shards surrounding her.  Those shards had not only prevented her from using her healing abilities properly, it had kept her and Jorem’s bonding from happening.

“You must be getting better then,” Jorem said.  “Your shield stopped whatever the flash was.”

“Well, at least they don’t fall apart by themselves now.  That flash shouldn’t have done anything more than a pebble thrown at a stone wall.  It’s so frustrating.”

Seeing Jen’s determination actually made Jorem relax.  She was regaining her confidence and getting back to the strong-willed girl he’d met years ago.  Zensa’s decision to bring her here had definitely been the right one.

Jorem thought for a moment before speaking.  “I know there are different kinds of shields.  Some of the books Pentrothe had me studying had…”

“Don’t!” Jen cut him off.  “Don’t talk to me about books!  Every time I bump into any of the Noorsai they’ve got their scaly snouts in some dusty old book and are wanting me to try whatever it is they think they’ve found.  It’s driving me crazy!”

Jen mentioning dusty old books brought a memory back to Jorem.  Pentrothe had several old books, but there was one that was ancient.  They had been trying to translate the book, but had only managed a few short paragraphs.  One of those paragraphs had been about shields. It had read kind of like a spell.  Pentrothe had tried it as such, but all he managed to do was give himself a major headache.

Maybe, just maybe, if he could remember the words.  That and if they worked being translated from their original language.

“Jen,” Jorem said, stepping right up in front of her.  “Close your eyes, concentrate and repeat after me.

             
“Walls of steel, walls of stone,

             
Walls of ice and blood and bone;

             
‘Tween each layer fire is found,

Hell’s fire burning brightly, tightly bound.

              Woe unto foes should these shields come unwound.”

The next thing Jorem knew, he was lying flat, face down on the ground.  He lifted his head and shook it to get the dirt off his face.  The pain exploding behind his eyes convinced him that shaking was a bad idea.  Cautiously he rolled over onto his side.  A throbbing pain ran from his left shoulder down through his chest to his right hip.

Looking back to where his body had been, he saw he had landed on the handle of the shovel.  Jorem spit to get the dirt out of his mouth and winced at the pain it caused.  Sitting up gently, he ran his finger over his lip and found it to be split open.  When he looked at his finger, it was covered in dirt-specked blood.

“Young man,” an elderly woman’s voice quavered.  “Are you all right?”

A glance up and Jorem found himself face to face with the woman he’d been watching earlier.  The man she’d been with stood just behind her.  The woman’s face was etched with concern.

“One minute you were standing there,” came the voice of the man, “next thing we knew you were flat on your face.”

Jorem reached up and pinched his nose to get the bleeding stopped.  That hurt as well.

“John,” the woman said to the man, “go get someone to help him inside.”

“That’s okay ma’am, I’ll be fine,” Jorem said as he levered himself up off the ground.  “I’ve been falling down for as long as I can remember.  The trick is to get back up and keep on going.”

“Are you sure you’re all right?” the woman asked.

“Yes ma’am, I’ll be fine,” Jorem said kindly.  “Thank you for checking on me.  I’d best get myself cleaned up.”

“I’m not sure what surprises me more,” the man said as Jorem walked away, “that he’s what passes for a prince, or that he’s the spare.  He’s not like anything I’ve heard of the sons of Halden.”

After cleaning himself up and before retiring to his bed, Jorem went around thanking everyone for their hard work.  He made it a point to stop in the kitchen to express his gratitude for their efforts.  Everyone was exhausted.  They had accomplished a great deal in one day, but there was much yet to be done.

The last thing he did was to check on Jen.  She was sitting at a small desk reading a book.  The room was dimly lit, but appeared to be a sitting room with a variety of chairs and sofas all about.  A bright globe of white light floated in the air giving her light to read by and adding highlights to her hair.  As he approached, she looked up and smiled.

“Boy did you cause a stir!” Jen said with a bright smile.

“What?” Jorem replied in confusion.

“That spell you had me say.”

“You mean it worked?”

“Oh yeah. Not only did it work, it nearly scared the stuffing out of the Noorsai.  They’ve locked themselves in the library trying to figure out what it was.  I’m supposed to ask you where you got it.”