Tomas clung to William as he staggered through the trees. His blood-soaked boots danced in the moonlight, and each breath was like fire. With the knife still gleaming coldly, the traitor crept back into the shadows behind him. William felt as though his heart would burst from the intense beating. Although he was unaware of who had observed them, he was aware that confidence came with a cost.
William and Tomas arrived at a secret depression beneath a stand of ancient pines at sunrise. The ground smelled of pine needles, and the early air was cold. William knelt beside a little spring and put Tomas down. He brought the water to Tomas's lips after scooping it up in his cupped hands. With terrified eyes, the boy drank.
William gazed at his own image in the water's ripples. Soot and dried blood stained his face. Raised and angry, a new scar extended from his left temple to his jaw. It pulsated as a warning. Gently he caressed it, recalling each swing of his blade.
Tomas used the back of his hand to wipe his mouth. "Now, where are we going?" he muttered.
William brushed dirt from his knees and stood slowly. "We construct," he murmured softly. "We create a space to defend ourselves."
Tomas blinked, his eyes bewildered. "Where?"
William looked around at the dense forest. "This is it," he replied. "We will be hidden by these trees." Further higher, he indicated a rocky protrusion. Look at that cave. We'll make use of it.
Branches scratched their arms as they ascended toward the cave together. The cave was dark and chilly within. Like frozen teeth, stalagmites dangled from the ceiling. The light flickered against the moist walls as William lighted a torch he carried. He ran his fingertips over old marks that had been worn away by time as he touched the stone.
Tomas shuddered. "It's frightening."
William ruffled his hair while kneeling next to him. "We arrive home."
They cleansed the cave floor of stones and decaying leaves. William located a stack of splintered wood and placed them close to the entryway. He started a little fire using a flint. The shadows were pushed back by the crackling and dancing flames. Their claim was marked by smoke curling upward.
"Why here?" With wide eyes, Tomas inquired.
William gazed thoughtfully at the cave walls. "Westham won't arrive here without difficulty. We are hidden by the cliffs. He indicated a small tunnel that led farther within. This penetrates deep inside. Anyone who comes can be seen by us.
Breathing in the warm firelight, Tomas nodded slowly.
With schemes racing through his mind, William paced the cave. He would require more than just a hiding place and a boy. He required combative individuals. People were fed up with Westham's forces stealing food, destroying farms, and breaking into houses. For everyone who wished to join, he needed a mark—a symbol.
Closing his eyes, he placed his hand on his battered blade. The steel hummed with promise, yet it felt weighty. William recalled the look on Catherine's face when she passed away. "Save them," he recalled her whispering. That vow reverberated throughout him now. He looked up at the roof of the cave. "Tonight is the first day."
Later that day, exiles from Tazan congregated in small groups in a nearby grove, which William and Tomas sneaked down the hill to visit. While others prayed in whispers, others sat by campfires. All they had were hollow cheeks and shabby clothes. With his coat still wet from perspiration, William entered their circle. There was silence in the grove.
He held up his hand, revealing the blade smeared with blood. William Moses is my name. His voice was firm as he hesitated. "I bring a fresh hope."
The crowd echoed with murmurs. Some stood and narrowed their eyes at him. An elderly, stooped guy tapped his cane. "Moses, William? The one that was declared dead?
William gave a nod. "I made it through." I carry his blade. He raised the sword. Its edge glinted with light. However, survival is insufficient on its own. We are all being crushed by Westham's rule. For this cause, my wife lost her life. All I have left is this blade and the resolve to set Tazan free.
A woman with a child pressed to her chest as she stepped forward in a tattered outfit. "Our children will breathe fearlessly if you succeed."
A younger man tightened his fists, his face smeared with ash. "I'd like to fight. Westham's raids have taken my family away from me.
William gave them each a nod. "Then join me in rising." He looked around the throng. In the cave, we construct a base. We work out. We amass weaponry. We hit Westham in a surprising place. But I need your faith to accomplish this.
Once more, the elderly guy tapped his cane. "Belief is difficult. How can we be sure you won't put us in danger?
William looked him in the eye. "Observe my wounds. I bear them because I did not keep my loved ones safe. You need not be afraid of me. He looked up at them, his damaged face. "May this blade cut me first if I betray you."
There was silence. From William's side, Tomas stared with doubt in his eyes. William patted his shoulder while kneeling next to him. William remarked, "He is my proof." "What I saw, he saw." He pointed to the cavern. "Come on. Check it out for yourself.
With the candle guiding them, twenty men and women trailed William to the entrance of the cave. There were jagged rocks scattered along the steep route. William led them, steadying trembling arms as many faltered. As they arrived at the gate, the sun began to set.
The shadows were lengthy inside. By lighting candles along the walls, William was able to see a large cavern with a second tunnel that led off to unknowable depths. The vastness made the group gasp. No one could have predicted its size. Puddles of water reflected flickering light, and stalagmites gleamed like glass.
A younger woman touched the water to her lips while kneeling next to one of the puddles. She muttered, "We can live here."
William gave a nod. Through the rock, fresh water seeps. In the forests above, game hides. We can remain undetected.
A man walked forward, his beard scratchy. And armaments? Food? He gave his crossbow a squeeze. "We don't have much."
William gestured toward the doorway. We do business with border villages. Collect iron from the river. Make rudimentary blades. He spoke in a low, resolute voice. "We're going to be fierce."
As they exchanged glances, the throng whispered. Their hope settled in William's chest like fire.
Abruptly, from the deeper tube came a scraping sound. Everybody froze. The lights wavered. Tomas let out a whine. William held up his hand. "Remain composed."
With his torch in hand, he took a step forward and proceeded down the tight tunnel. Hearts pounding, the group followed. The corridor led to a smaller room with damp sand imprinted by footprints, too big for Tomas and too little for a deer. They were people.
William's jaw tightened. "There's another person here."
A pair of eyes flashed in the torchlight, and there was a stir. A figure appeared, with a cowl half-hiding its face, eyes squinted, and shoulders hunched. The audience let out a gasp. William's pulse skipped a beat. This was a face he recognized.
His voice was husky as he murmured, "Taran?"
Taran drew his hood back. There was a red line from jaw to ear where his left cheek was sliced. He had a crude spear and his leather armor was damaged. "William," he remarked in a gruff voice. "I heard the call."
William gasped. "You made it through?"
Taran gave a nod. I just managed to get out of Westham's cages. We needed somewhere to stand, I realized. I came here in search of it.
Recognizing one of their missing brothers, the throng rushed forward. Taran raised his spear. "I support you."
There was an uproar of applause. Relief ached in William's chest. The group of insurgents pressed forward, encroaching on the middle of the cave. They clapped backs, embraced, and hammered fists on shoulders. Tomas' eyes were watering as he watched.
Where terror had been, William felt warmth blossom. Their first real ally arrived. Like a bird against its cage, his heart fluttered.
Then the cave floor shook with a sudden tremor. Raindrops of dust fell from the ceiling. Vigorously, the torches flickered. William quickly glanced at the doorway. The stone rolled with a heavy rumble. The walls of the cave groaned.
"Shivering?" With his back to the wall, Taran yelled.
William felt his heart pound. Rare tremors were an indication of both the mountain's deep veins and shifting ground. "Remain composed!" he shouted. "Keep your torches steady!"
Like thunder buried underneath, the rumble became louder. Sand dropped from deeper fissures. With every heartbeat, a ragged rift widened in the distant wall. People crowded together. White-faced, Tomas held onto William's leg.
A voice erupted from outside the cave before William could yell any louder. Rebels! Like rats, you hide!
It was a scornful Westham voice. His words mixed with the heaving earth and reverberated off the stone.
William's veins began to freeze. Plaster-gray dust blew through the tunnel as it rocked with new intensity. Behind the widening fissure in the wall came a low growl that sounded like the rumble of the mountain's belly.
William raised his candle. "To arms!" he exclaimed. "Come on!"
In their haste, rebels grabbed axes, crossbows, and spears. Rock fragments fell into the flickering torchlight as the cave's roof trembled one final time.
A line of Westham warriors emerged in the entryway, spears and torches at the ready. Their armor shone icily. The king's crown, a well-known symbol, was displayed by a figure in silver and black armor behind them.
When William saw the form behind the helm, his heart fell.
The earth underneath them shattered before he could say anything. The air was shattered by the boom of shifting stone.
A huge creature emerges from the cave's depths, its teeth dripping with ancient thirst and its eyes burning like coals as the earth beneath the rebels cracks open. Realizing that their secret hideaway might be the final safe haven they discover, William's torch flickers.