Dwellers of the New World Chapter Fourteen ( Pt 1 ) Secrets and Celebrations

Huge fires burned brightly at the camp that Bracus had ordered his men to build, the flames climbing high into the night air. He was also pleased that the new men Liora had supplied were great hunters, 'yet another reason for a celebration,' he thought to himself.

The leader was parched, he hadn't had a decent drink since leaving the mainland and the ale the women supplied was really good. Bracus decided that his men would have a night off and enjoy themselves. Tomorrow was another day, tonight it would be about food – song and drink, but he knew the children would need to be guarded, especially if things got out of control.

Taking a wooden tankard of ale and sipping, he told four of his men to keep watch. “Make sure none of those children try to escape...I'm counting on you to be my eyes and ears. Also you can remove Varden's gag, but warn him if he makes another sound, it's going straight back on.” The men though not happy about being left out of the celebrations, agreed and marched off to watch the youngsters, the snow covered ground leaving their feet freezing even in their warm boots.

Poor Varden just lay in the corner of the shelter, not daring to make a move or open his mouth, in case he had the gag put back on. Bracus had warned him not to say any more, the boy didn't like the gag and didn't want to risk causing any more trouble. 'What have I done to deserve this?' He thought to himself, gazing into thin air, then closing his eyes slowly with sadness.

The men had already started drinking and were in high spirits. Some of the children were afraid and had to be comforted by the older ones. Cinnamon watched as the men drew images in the air, like they were using sign language to one another, they glanced at her with glazed eyes and laughed out loud, she became frightened and took Will by the hand, trying to get as far away from the men as she could. It was a cold night and Cinnamon shivered as she tried to comfort the boy. Will snuggled into her resting his head on her lap. As she smoothed the boys hair back from his eyes, suddenly In the darkness she felt a hand on her shoulder, cringing she turned to see who it was, but could only make out a shadow, when all of a sudden a hand came across her mouth.

“Don't scream...I'm not going to hurt you. Just do as I say and trust me,” said the unknown voice.

The girl nodded that she wouldn't scream. Then the voice spoke again.

“My name's Brigs...do you remember me?”

She whispered in the darkness. “Yeah! Of course I remember you...what's going on?”

“I'm going to rescue you...but you have to do as I say.” At that moment Will went to shout out. “What's going on.....” quickly Cinnamon put her hand over his mouth. “It's okay Will...we're going to be saved, don't shout.”

The boy was cautious, but went from being frightened to trusting Cinnamon. Brigs led them away towards some trees. It was too dark to be able to make out where they were.

“Listen!” Delared Brigs. “I want you to stay here and don't move. I'm taking over the camp with some help from friends, when I give the word you can come out...okay?”

Cinnamon knew that if they were to escape, their only chance was to trust in Brigs, she had a gut feeling that things would be okay, so she agreed.

Though Liora had not wanted any body to be drugged, Brigs had other ideas. He'd managed to raid the medicine casket from the ship and found a wooden container with the inscription; 'Ground Root Sleeping Powder. Use cautiously.' Knowing that the leader would be fast on his way to becoming very drunk, it would be easy for him to slip some powder into Bracus and his followers ale, making sure to warn Liora's men of what he was doing. No way did it occur to him that the powder might be dangerous.

Varg and three others who were in on Brigs plan, made their way over to where the men were in high spirits. They were singing shanty songs learnt from their ancestors from long ago. There was a story that men had come from another world with machines that could play music, though no one had any idea what a machine was, or even if they believed the story, any sign or knowledge of a machine was lost and forgotten, though the music lived on in the people. Some of the songs had been passed down from the old earth, of which continued to bring much joy to those that sang in harmony even after a lot of ale, they were spurred on by those listening and clapping. Tankards were raised as the discomfort of the cold night air vanished in the heat of the flames, and the fires in their bellies brought on by the ale.

Biding his time, Brigs handed some of the powder to Varg and the other three men. “Just put a bit into their drinks...this stuff is strong and all we want is for them to sleep.”

The men glanced at each other feeling slightly unsure but trusting in Brigs. He placed a small amount in the palm of their hands. “Just a pinch should do the trick,” he announced.

Varg smirked, showing his black teeth and staring at the powder. “Best get on with this task...get it over and done with.” He and the three other accomplices walked away to mingle with the men, while Brigs concentrated on Bracus and the guards. Making his way over to Bracus, Brigs could see the leaders tankard was almost empty. “Can I get you another sir?” He enquired. “I see you're enjoying the shanties.”

Bracus had no idea about Brigs plan and was only too happy to let the man get him another drink. “Well...that would be fine and maybe you could get me some food while you're at it.” He drank up the rest of his ale and handed his tankard to Brigs.

Turning and heading towards the barrels, when no one was looking, Brigs took a pinch of the powder and sprinkled it in to the tankard, then approached the barrel and filled it with the ale, smiling to himself. The food was kept warm over the ashes of a fire that was built especially for the meat. The hunters had tracked a deer that day and were very pleased with their catch. Cutting some of the meat off the bone, Brigs took some for himself and some for Bracus on one of the wooden plates.

The leader was now in full song himself, thinking his voice was as good as the other men, he didn't have any idea how bad he sounded.

As Brigs approached he screwed up his face in discomfort at the man's awful performance.

“Ah! My friend...come join us in song...lift your voice and sing out the stories of old.” Bracus grabbed Brigs around the shoulders and took the tankard from him, lifting it high and swaying to the rhythm, his hot breath stank and his body clammy with sweat and dirt from not washing.

Brigs was worried that the ale would be lost and tried to calm the leader down. But Bracus was having none of that and continued to sway. Luckily the song ended and Bracus downed his beer in one, then ate his meat. “You know Brigs,” said Bracus turning to the man and slurring his words. “You need to unwind...this is a night for celebration, tomorrow there will be much labouring, so I think you should have a drink and loosen up.”

“Is that an order?” Asked Brigs feeling uncomfortable.

“Yeah...it certainly is!” Replied Bracus slapping him on the back.

Brigs agreed he would get a drink, but not before he took some ale to the guards who were watching the children, as the youngsters lay down on the furs inside the temporary shelters, the guards stood outside shivering with cold and were only too happy when Brigs, Varg and the other men appeared with food and drink for them.

“Here!” Declared Brigs. “One drink won't hurt you.”

The guards didn't even hesitate and drank the ale straight down, smacking their lips and asking for more. “These children will sleep soundly tonight,” said one of the watchers. “We need something to keep out the chill.”

Brigs was only to happy to oblige, smiling to himself at the success of the plan. “Soon sleep would be taking more than just the children.” He uttered, sniggering under his breath as he walked away and pondered on the next part of the plan.

The drunken revellers were unaware of the figures who were lurking in the shadows somewhere off in the distance, waiting for the signal to move in.

Dwellers of the New World Chapter Fourteen ( Pt 2 ) Making Decisions | ABCtales