THIEF OF BREAN (VOL-1)|✓

THE CHAOS OF SILENCE- XI

Blenwustite was a loose knot of warped hills. The slope was smooth and shallow wooded. Carl was reluctant about Webb Croft continuing the drive as the car made headway on a narrow dirt road created by chipping out the incline of the hills which was now dampened by the light snow. But the young Sentinel had insisted. Across the shoulder of the road, the ground was creased in several layers leading into an open-pit of grey ground where men, mostly Vermits, were seen toiling under the evening smog dense with soil dust from the mines.

Barring his juvenile cheek, Webb Croft was everything a Sentinel was supposed to be. Brave, self-assured and determined. He had managed to steer the car with much caution and finesse. Carl was well pleased by him for making the ride safe and quick for them.

They slowed down when they spotted the metallic green Skyler parked on the narrow road ahead. They halted and watched. Seeing no movements for a long time, Carl alighted. He studied the surrounding before making a move ahead. The dormant vegetation growing along the gentle rise of the ground looked dusty. The vast pit beneath was cold as grave. The land beyond the pit was covered with thick foliage. Carl stared at the skyline over it where the trails of smoke frothing out from the shrouded smelting plants raced to touch the clouded sky.

Balin's car was abandoned. When he reached to its front, Carl noticed a group of children in tattered clothes, huddled together, shouting in Diabonian as they played with stones and sticks of the road. The red undertone of their skin was dulled by the grease of grime and sweat. All of their bodies looked like a stack of bones, weak and malnourished.

The Sentinels wore their crossed swords on their backs and they set on a beaten path that fell just in front of Balin's car. The beaten path had a smooth inclination up the slope of the hills. Short alders and birches grew deeper and greener as he moved higher and higher ahead. At small clearings, Carl came across the crowded shacks of the Vermits. Voices of women reached him from them. And from somewhere amidst the clump he could hear wailings of a kid.

Many more Vermit children were found playing in the groves, all malnourished and covered with filth. They backed away when they saw Carl and the Sentinels, whereas, some ignorant little ones stood undaunted and stared their trail. Carl avoided looking into their eyes. Like many Marnians did to avoid the looks on those innocent faces that raised doubts over their conscience, over the righteousness that they were ever so proud as a country of the learned and the noble.

After a short while of wandering, Carl had walked up to an old Vermit man, busy making a bushel in his yard and asked if he had seen any Marnians around the place.

The old man was hesitant at first. He took a while before he answered. "They come and go," he mumbled.

"Who?"

"Some people. Never saw them closely."

"How long have you been seeing them?"

"Umm... few months I think."

Carl rubbed his chin. That was a long time.

"Do Marnians come here often?" he asked the Sentinels. They said that the place was a forsaken land for the Marnians. No one came here except the mine owners.

A forsaken land—a perfect hideout for a criminal. Carl wondered if Balin Grey was one among this group.

"What else did you see?"

The old man shrugged.

Carl continued questioning other Vermit folk around the place and got the same answer. By the end he could gather that there were some five to six Marnian men who were seen wandering the hills for quite some time. The usual path that all those Vermits told to be the one used by the wandering Marnian group had led Carl and the Sentinel duo further up the slope. No Vermits lived up the hill. The land was craggy and dense with thorny bushes. As they lingered there for some time, looking for any sign of life, they heard a rustle.