Like cattle the people of Rivertown stood rounded up, herded together in a narrow glade, jostling and swarming around each other like bees, searching for their friends and families. All around them the Colorless soldiers stood, blank-faced and motionless like statues, and yet close enough to keep them all trapped in a net, scaring away even the faintest thought of escape.
"What is this?" voices shouted over and over again, loud and clear amid the frantic name-yelling from all directions. "What's happening?"
The question was repeated over and over and over, but no answer came. The Colorless around them remained silent. They only drew in closer, pushing in the villagers until it was impossible to even walk a single step.
It was cold around them, freezing despite standing so close together, the thick white fog around them swallowing up the outside world. Few of them were still sure where they were. The fog ate up all sense of direction like it ate up everything else.
There had been too many of them, too many to resist. Countless soldiers of the Colorless Land, pale white and empty-faced, armed to the teeth, had gathered around the village and led them all out until it was completely deserted, rounding up even the fishers and shepherds on the river and fields outside. They had spoken no word but threatened them, using every weapon they had; and in the cold, discolored fog few of them had found the courage to fight back. The ones who had tried had been quickly disarmed, tied up and brought here with everyone else.
"Jo!" Nellary's voice rang out from the opposite end of the crowd. "Jo!"
Maithea pushed through the villagers, trying to get to her wife, but it was impossible. They stood too closely packed, unable to move a single inch. Panicked shouts reached her ears, yells, wails. Some of the children were crying. And still she could not hear her own child. Wherever her daughter was, she wasn't answering.
"Jolette!" she yelled, trying to be louder than the crowd, but her voice was weaker than Nellary's, and her shouts were swallowed by the noise. "Jolette, where are you? Answer me!"
Nothing. A dozen voices rang in her ears, but not a single one was her daughter's.
Dread caught her, closing its icy hand around her chest and clawing at her heart. Where was her daughter? Was she not here? Had she escaped the Colorless soldiers? Or had they caught her too, holding her in a separate place somewhere, to do what, Maithea could not fathom?
"Jolette!" she yelled again. "Jolette!"
No answer. Nothing to see. If only Nellary was closer. She would know how to find her. She would know what to do.
"Nellary!" she shouted instead, hoping against hope that her voice would reach her. "Nell, can you hear me?"
"Honey?"
Maithea's breath hitched. "Nell!" she called over the crowd. "Have you seen Jolette anywhere?"
"Not since—"
From one second to the other, everything fell silent.
Maithea opened her mouth, trying to say something, but no sound came out. The fog in the air seemed to thicken, creeping into her mouth, her throat, leaving everything numb. Her hands were shaking, but she stood frozen, unable to speak a single word.
"Have you found him?" a cold, monotone voice reached her ear from one side, a voice that sounded more like the unfeeling imitation of a human speaking.
A second voice answered in the same tone. "No, Commander."
"Checked everything?"
"Yes, Commander."
"What about the pendant?"
"Nothing, Commander."
"I see." Footsteps sounded over the dead leaves, and one of the snowy white figures emerged from the group, coming to stand in front of the villagers. "People of Rivertown," he said, "bring forth your leader."
Benthevin shuffled forward through the crowd as the soldiers took a step back to make room for him to pass.
"Leader," said the Colorless commander, "we have questions for you."
The mayor crossed his arms, glaring defiantly up at the figure. "Questions? Ask away," he said. "But I hope you don't expect me to answer them, bunch of kidnappers that you are, barging in and dragging us all off like cattle in the middle of the day." He huffed. "If you want us to answer your questions, ask them with dignity!"
"We will give you dignity," said the commander, unimpressed, "if you give us our answers."
"Oh, indeed! And what about manners, what about—"
Abruptly he fell silent, gasping and coughing and clutching at his throat. "You, too, should mind your manners," said the commander, "for we are more than you, and stronger. Answer us, or we shall make an example of you."
Benthevin said nothing. He only glared, but now he looked much more frightened.
"Namely," the commander went on, "we are looking for a certain boy who escaped from our realm."
Maithea held her breath. At once Edmian's face appeared in her mind.
Don't say anything! she wanted to shout, though she did not know why. The number of Colorless soldiers who had seemingly come for him was suspicious to her. What they wanted from him she could not imagine, but their array and behavior was enough to assume the worst.
She wondered if Jolette was with him. They were always together these days. Had they seen the soldiers? Had they escaped? And if they had, what would they do now?
"People of Rivertown," the commander said again when Benthevin remained silent. "Have you seen that boy? Is it true that, as we heard, he has been hosted among you?"
"It's true that he was," said a voice from the crowd. Forward stepped Fayabel, wife of the miller, of old Maithea's friend. "But he isn't here. We don't know where he went."
The commander walked around the group, back and forth, his eyes unmoving but all-seeing. "Is that true?" he asked, his voice as blank as ever, and yet the shiver of a threat ran down the villagers' spines. "Not a single one of you knows?"
Only a footstep away Maithea noticed Liara, Jolette's best friend. Her eyes were locked on the ground, her fists balled up at her sides, her lips pressed together into an anxious line. She took a deep breath. Then she shook her head.
"Very well." With a mechanical movement the commander turned away and addressed his soldiers. "We change to plan two. Keep them until he is found."
~ ~ ~
"Dammit! Where are we going?" Nellary's voice rang out from directly behind, and Maithea slowed her steps to let her catch up. "What's happening? May, have you seen Jo?"
Maithea shook her head, hurriedly taking her hand to avoid being separated again. "I don't know," she said. "Maybe she's still out there. She and Edmian both..."
"These monsters." Nellary cursed under her breath. "They can't just drag us away from our daughter like that!"
Maithea nodded, staring into the distance. On and on the Colorless were chasing them, herding them like sheep between their swords and spears and axes, closer and closer to the looming mountains. They could barely keep up with their pace. Ever and anon someone stumbled and fell, and the soldiers would pick them up and carry them for awhile before letting them back down and rushing them all the more. Maithea had spent the entire walk trying to get through to her wife, and from the looks of it, Nellary had done the same.
Where was Jolette now? What was she doing? Had she returned to the village yet? Was Edmian with her? How long until the Colorless found them too and took them the same way they had taken the villagers?
"How far are we from home?" she wondered out loud.
"Too far," Nellary answered. "If we run back now, we'll take hours to get there. And it's not like we can run away, with all those...those...those abominations around us!"
Maithea squeezed her hand. She understood her wife's feelings too well. She, too, wanted to break away and run back, sprint all the way home to Rivertown until she found her daughter and pulled her into her arms and knew she was safe. Whatever happened afterwards, at least they would face it together. But there was no chance. Not as long as they were caught in this net of soldiers.
"Maybe we still can," she whispered. "We've got to take a break sometime. Maybe if we run while they're busy setting up a camp, they won't notice us for awhile."
Hastily she looked right and left, but no one seemed to have heard. The soldiers closest to them were paying them no attention.
On and on they went, further and further. The hills around them grew higher and steeper. The mountains loomed ever taller ahead of them, gleaming white with snow in the setting twilight. The sun disappeared. The Colorless brought out blindingly bright lamps to illuminate the falling night.
"Stop," the commander's voice said at last, and gasping and stumbling the entire company came to a halt in a narrow gap between steep hills.
The Colorless began to set up a camp. Guards were positioned, and those of the villagers who could still walk were made to work where they could. Most could not. They had cast themselves flat on the ground, lying there gasping until the Colorless yanked them upright and dragged them to work with the others.
"You should be grateful," one of them said. "We are only taking this break for your sake. If we did not have our orders, we would have made you march with us through the night."
Maithea and Nellary helped set up a tent, and the panic and chatter around them almost faded to background noise. There was wailing, crying, questioning. One of the old farmers collapsed, and his wife broke down sobbing in Maithea's arms and could not be consoled. Fayabel's youngest son had been crying for hours, and Nellary hurried off to calm down both mother and child. It seemed almost normal by now, or perhaps the hours of marching had simply made them exhausted enough to believe it was all only a very bad dream.
And still their minds were awake, awake enough to search for an escape. A way out, an opening, a gap in the Colorless' vigilance. There had to be one. There was always an escape.
"Let me go!"
The tent pole she had been carrying fell from Maithea's hands. She knew this voice better than any other in the world. And she knew where it came from.
"I said, let me go!" Nellary shouted from a group of soldiers, kicking and struggling however she could. "Let me see my daughter, you monsters!"
Maithea paused, just outside of their notice. Had Nellary tried to run from the camp on her own? All by herself, with no regard for what could happen?
"Let me go!" Nellary's voice grew ever more frantic, and the Colorless soldiers drew tighter and tighter together. "What will you do with me now, huh? Will you kill me? Good luck trying!"
"Excuse me."
With a few quiet, well-measured steps Maithea came to stand next to the group, trying to catch a glimpse of her wife amid the tall white figures. "What are you trying to do with my wife?"
There was a moment's silence, then the tallest of the group turned around. "You are married to this woman?"
"Yes, and I'd very much like to know what you're doing with her."
"She tried to run." The tall one lowered his head to meet her gaze, and Maithea shivered under the stare of blank white eyes. "She needs to be punished."
Maithea swallowed audibly. "Since when is it punishable to run from kidnappers?"
"We are not kidnapping you," said the tall one. "We are holding you responsible for housing one of ours instead of returning him back to us, as you should have."
"Well," came Nellary's voice from the middle, "maybe we would've done that if he hadn't been so terrified!"
Maithea reached a hand through the group, brushing it over hers before being pulled back. "Nell, calm down."
"Calm down? Calm down? There's not a single thing about this situation that I could be calm about!"
"But there's no need to make it worse!" Pushing back her own emotions, Maithea turned back to the soldiers, running through different arguments in her head. "Still," she said, "I believe you're not allowed to harm us. And I don't think she'll try again. My wife won't go anywhere without me, so all you need to do is keep a close watch on me."
The soldiers paused for a moment, maybe wondering if her requests in any way clashed with their orders. Then the tall one spoke again. "Very well, woman," he said. "We will watch you and her closely. But she gets no rations tonight."
With that they stepped aside, and Nellary stumbled into Maithea's arms. In a haste they both fled away from the soldiers, back towards the tent they had abandoned halfway through. Then they sat on the ground, fingers intertwined, neither of them speaking a single word.
"I'm sorry," Nellary said at last. "I couldn't stand it. That spot seemed open, and..."
Maithea shook her head. "It's all right. I know how you feel."
Another silence.
"I'll share my rations with you later," she added at last. "You can't go hungry."
"You don't have to—"
"I want to." Maithea squeezed her wife's hand. "Don't worry."
Nellary said nothing. She only brushed her thumb over the back of Maithea's hand, her face turned away, her curls hiding it from sight. Her shoulders shook slightly.
"Where d'you think she is now?" she asked at last. "Jo."
Maithea swallowed. "I don't know."
"I hope she's safe," Nellary went on. "She and Edmian..."
"She's strong. And she learned so much about survival in the wild. If anyone can make it, it has to be her."
"Mhm."
"We can't get to her right now," Maithea continued, trying to keep her voice from shaking. "Even if we escaped, the Colorless would follow us." She swallowed again. "And even if we found them, we'd just get her and Edmian into danger."
"I know."
"They're safer without us." Maithea squeezed her hand. "It's best if we wait. At least they're still free."
Her voice failed, and she swallowed hard. Tears blurred the lights of the camp around her.
Nellary turned around to face her, her hazel eyes wide and round and shining wet, her lips trembling. "I'm so scared, May."
And suddenly Maithea could no longer pretend to be strong.
"Me too," she rasped out, burying her face in Nellary's shoulder, clinging to her back, no longer bothering to hold back tears. "Me too."
~ ~ ~
"What next, Commander?"
The leader of the Colorless turned around to face his right-hand man, who had stepped into his tent and saluted where he stood. "Next," he said, "you write a message to the King of Firland. If he is wise, he will do the rest for us."
"Yes, Commander."
"Namely, write the following." The commander stood perfectly straight, his eyes looking at nothing, as if reciting a poem from memory. "We have taken captive your village of Rivertown. They will not be harmed, but to set them free we have a request of our own. Return to us a Colorless boy, about thirteen years of age, wearing a gold necklace with a pendant that glows from the inside." His gaze focused into reality again. "We shall release what is yours when we receive what is our own."
~ ~ ~
"One single boy," said the old King of Firland, bent down where he sat in his chair. "One thirteen-year-old boy for an entire village of ours! Do the Colorless take me for a fool? Now that is a bargain indeed!"
Shaking his head, he wrinkled the letter in his hands, his white hair falling low over his face and shoulders. "Of course I'll accept the deal," he said. "These people must be rescued. And it will cost us nothing except for a little trouble."
The others in the room were quiet, their thoughts unreadable. No one said a word, but all looked very ill at ease.
"I find it suspicious," Lavilian spoke up at last, youngest daughter of the king. "If they will return an entire village for one single boy, that child must be very important to them. If we follow their demand, maybe it will harm us in the long run."
"Maybe, must, maybe!" The king straightened in his chair, his eyes flashing. "Is that all you have to say? A king's responsibility is to protect his people! I cannot forgo that for the possible chance that maybe the child they are looking for will harm us in the end! How will I look in front of the people?"
Lavilian gritted her teeth, but she forced herself to stay calm. "I was only suggesting–"
"My daughter, do you claim that you know how to run a kingdom better than I do?"
Her eyes flashed briefly, then she lowered her head, clenching her hands into the fabric of her skirt. "No, lord."
"I agree with Lavilian, sire," said Theor, the king's only son. "If this child has such a power, we shouldn't surrender him to the enemy so easily. We should use that power to free the people of Rivertown ourselves."
The clear, vigorous sound of his voice lingered even after he had fallen silent, and many of the lords in the room nodded and mumbled agreement. Lavilian stood unmoving behind the king's throne. Her beautiful face revealed nothing.
"Power," the king repeated slowly, turning towards his son, "you say?"
"It is but a guess." Theor stood up, facing the circle of lords around him. "But the Colorless would never resort to such measures if the boy was truly nothing more than a child. Besides, have none of you noticed the description of his necklace?" He gestured towards the letter in his father's hands. "It glows from the inside. What if it holds some power the Colorless have devised? What if it holds magic?" He tapped his palm with his fist. "If such a power resides in our kingdom, we should seize it!"
A dozen pairs of eyes rested on him in awe. Theor turned to face his father once more. "What do you think, my lord?"
"I think...you may have a point."
Slowly, with heavy movements, the old king pushed himself from his chair to stand, bent but tall, at the head of his council. "My first allegiance still lies with the people of Rivertown," he said, "but we shall see when we have the boy. I will gladly take hold of the power if it lets us free those people."
Theor smiled. He tried to meet eyes with Lavilian, hoping to share the triumph, but his sister avoided his gaze.
"Very well!" said the king. "Send out messengers to every town and village with descriptions of the boy. Tell them to promise a reward to anyone who can bring this wondrous child to me."