The Chronicle of the Worthy Son

Sharp

"Monster!" This might have been the mildest insult Able had to weather yet had the shouting Birchurster not followed it with spitting. His aim, fortunately, went wide, but Able's empty stomach still roiled while he instinctively stepped back—into the prisoner behind him.

He threw an immediate apology over his shoulder—unnecessarily, as the tall man was staring blankly into the woods in favor of paying the situation any mind. The lot of them were lined up to climb back into the wagon after they had been allowed the opportunity to relieve their bowels and bladders. Most of the prisoners were like this one, dazed and despondent, but a few had directed frustrated tirades at the one Larbant who would not hit them for it.

Able didn't have to worry about the spitter any longer, though, for an enforcer pulled him out of the line and shoved him up into the wagon with the other rowdy ones. The quieter ones were loaded last, and Able made certain to be one of these, taking in as much woodland air as he could before he too was packed in among the unwashed bodies with unwashed mouths. Then he did his best to settle in and hold to his own space while the wagon rumbled forward.

"I was hoping I'd get the chance to thank you," whispered the young man beside him.

"...thank me?" Able frowned at him.

He nodded. "For what you did in the square."

"I didn't do anything, though."

"No need to be modest!" His new companion grinned wryly. "You accomplished more than I did."

"But I..." Able frowned deeper. "What did I accomplish?

"You saved Hawking, at least. I couldn't even get to my grandfather. Damn Banders got me here saying I attacked them, but I was only trying to get by them—if I could've just gotten by them..." His hands, balled into fists, were shaking.

"...I am sorry for your loss. I'm Able Houser."

"Sharp Fullbrook." He forced half a smile through his grief. "Not to assume you know what the other Banders are about, but do you know where they're taking us?"

"This road seems to be one of the lesser ones, and it's headed north—am I right?" Fullbrook nodded, so Able echoed it and continued, "I imagined Tanner's not so foolish as to risk giving Aimsby the opportunity to respond to his actions. He'll be taking us to Adeptsby, then."

Fullbrook swore in response, which caught the attention of an enforcer who then barked at them to simmer down. He waited until the enforcer's attention had moved on to hiss, "The tales I've heard about that place!"

Able was given pause. Arriving at Adeptsby at the end of this trial was his one consoling thought, but that was because he was a Larbant citizen who knew his rights. But the fate of the Borealunders around him? "I'm sorry, but I can't say for certain what happens next. And I don't say that to hide a grim truth."

"Right...no sense freaking out when you don't know." Fullbrook rubbed at his face as best he could with bound hands. "Should be a couple more days like this, then. Have you gotten any sleep?"

Able shook his head.

"Well, you're welcome to lean on me, then," Fullbrook smiled. "I don't mind."

Able's eyes desperately twinged as if they expected him to refuse, which would have been a fair assumption on their part. But he wasn't about to let his emotional discomfort stop him from getting sleep when he did not know when he'd have another opportunity.

"I expect I am short enough that you could rest your head on top of mine." He chuckled as he nudged closer to the lanky Borealunder. He was not a short man back home, but he'd spent at least twelve hours surrounded by eye-level necks and shoulders.