Elfborn

Landfall

After that, time seemed to go by quicker. Lash found himself being included in the low group discussions more and more often. And, oddly enough, he also found that he enjoyed them more and more until he was contributing as much as any of the others. Mostly he discussed what he found in his forays into the dream world, the one the mysterious speakers had called the Shadowed Land, made fairly frequent due to the overwhelming exhaustion they were all feeling. 

Unfortunately, that strange visitation never repeated itself, despite the fact that Lash returned to the ship time and time again. But, much to his relief, neither did the vision of the blasted land with its river of mud. Lash's dreams were once again his own, though much more vivid and real than they had ever been before. Indeed he had opened some sort of door, a door that now refused to be closed. And what he did see there, he contributed to their growing pool of ideas.

However, none of the contributions put together a viable escape plan. No matter what they came up with, Lash, Jase, and Max managed to find holes in every one of them. Most, of course, dealt with the fact that the Dark Companions, which they had all decided to call their black-clad guards using the name Lash uncovered in his first trip to the dream world, regardless of whether they actually belonged to Astor or not, kept such a tight rein on them. Only in the darkest recesses of the hold, out of sight of the wooden grate that had been placed over the hold's entrance, could they carry on their conversations, pitched too low for the four or more guards that lounged around the grate's perimeter to hear.

But the small company persisted, with the hopes that they would eventually uncover a weak spot in the Dark Companions' watchfulness. It was during one such brainstorming session that, shortly after a rain of food had been tossed down to them, that the Dark Companions finally took notice of what their prisoners were doing.

While the food had been infrequent and usually half-spoiled, the guards' vigilance had been constant. Yet it had taken almost two full days, which had become the length of the voyage to Noran's western coast due to poor weather the entire trip, before they managed to catch their erstwhile wards in the act of talking to each other. Their reaction was immediate.

With a splash of dirty water, Mordekai landed in the hold, eyes blazing as his sword swung around to point at the tight cluster of young people that cowered away from him. Two more splashes announced the arrival of additional black-clad Companions.

The sword point stopped its swing at Lash.

"You," the big man snarled tightly. "You instigated this, I know it. Take him."

Lash didn't resist as the other two quickly stepped forward to pin his arms at his side. Strangely he found himself thinking that this may very well be what they had been looking for: an opportunity. As the guards dragged him through the water back to Mordekai, he quickly threw a look at Heather, who was closest and winked without any other change in his expression. He kept his gaze on her long enough to see the answering nod then turned to look at Mordekai, who seethed in the dimness of the hold's only light, coming from above.

"Bind his hands and legs with chains," Mordekai instructed tightly as soon as Lash was before him, "and bring them all topside. I want them to witness what happens when our orders are disobeyed!"

None of the captive young people resisted their guards as their hands were tied with cord before they too were dragged to the upper deck, following closely behind the two guards that held Lash, his hands and feet now bound with heavy iron chains. Nor did they speak when they were herded into a tight cluster on the mid-deck, standing before a small group of Dark Companions, who were looking suitably grim. In the distance, through the low morning fog, the shoreline of Evindel could be seen.