The Whisperers

3-When Whisperers visit

3

I was sitting upon a hill, leaning against a boulder snuggled close to Che, with my dog Dorian sitting in my lap, as I told him my story of how I arrived in the ore village of the 7th county two years ago. Che wasn’t originally from Clove either, he was from the Core too but his family was exiled when his Father fled so he ended up here. I felt more comfortable with Che than with anyone in that town, many people I got along with but they didn’t understand me like Che did.

“So what actually was all that stuff about?” Che asked.

“No idea, anyway it was too long ago to remember what those drawings were like.  They were new identities for us but then I don’t understand why the masked man was so protective over the chests, there must have been something else in those chests.”

“The Origins believed that the decree stated by Emperor Nicandro, may he rest in all his divinity again to return and guide us the way to greatness.” He said mimicking my voice

“Hey” I replied, pushing him “We had to say that or we would be punished.”

“I know, I know, it was just funny hearing someone say it after all this time and in this place.” He said gesturing to the vast expanse of forest behind us. We spent most of our time in the woods-near the lake- out of the grey, suffocating air of Clove and beyond the moat that keeps out animals that could cause chaos when we are at work.

“You know, I had never really thought about Amelia much until today. I mean I am sorry for what I did but she was in a sense trying to kill us. Actually, I’m not sorry at all she compromised my Mum and then tried to kill me, I wonder how she is now, hopefully living by the skin of her teeth.” I said, speaking to myself as much as Che. For me, the hill where we sat was magic because of the secret it shared between me and Che, the things it heard that shouldn’t be heard. It was a place where I didn’t care if anyone heard my views on the Cores procedures and its actions, a place where I could truly be free. I laugh a hearty laugh, one that only Che could bring out of me.

“You know, I am well and truly sick of this whole system,” He said, soon losing the playful tone in his voice and becoming more serious. “I have been here for ten years and my father still has to work in the low grade ore factories. He hasn’t been upgraded like others when they excel, he has just been stuck doing the most dangerous job of them all. It’s like the Gerrys want to deliberately make life hell for us, why couldn’t we have gone to a better county maybe like I don’t know like Laguna, it’s always nice there and the work isn’t hard but no; we’ve been stuck here in this hole of a county. Working with a higher grade ore would be better, like grade eight or nine but he’s been stuck on the lowest of the low with barely enough pay to feed us. He’s paid his dues and deserves a better start.” Che was shaking as he spoke, looked across to me and tried to smile. “Sorry, I am just sick of the way we are treated you know.” I nodded slowly because I did know. When we moved here, Granddad became sick and we took him to the healer but the Gerrys must have realised we had come here but to kill us would look bad on their behalf so instead they made life as bad as it could be. We couldn’t use the healer, we became very poor because we had no income and other town’s people were too scared to talk to us, all except Che and his Father. Granddad eventually died he seemed quite serene and peaceful as he took his last breaths, rasping out words to me, something along the lines of, “Their eyes” and then he was gone, just like that.

 Suddenly, Che nudged my shoulder and woke me from my day dream. With one finger over his lips, signalling for me to be quiet, Dorian’s ears pricked up as Che pointed with his other hand in the direction of a wild boar. Dorian always waited for my signal to do something but if he scared it away this was something I just couldn’t pass up. It was very rare to find a wild boar at all let alone one of this size and this would pay good money back in Clove, in fact the only way I can make money is to hunt-and fish, though the water scares me somewhat- because when it comes to food we are all as hungry as each other. Dorian gets all the scraps that nobody wants to eat, that we can’t eat. Everywhere in Saben, in all of the county’s everyone has, by law, to have a certain amount of food but in Clove where growing food was like asking a dog to sing The anthem of the Core, often the food we receive is well below the required amount; so naturally hunting is a pretty good business, one which rarely makes money however as it is more of a necessity. My hunting skills had got much better since I had arrived in Clove, probably because there was more for it, hunt or die. My grip tightened around the sleek bamboo of the zabatana and I slipped my arm slowly through straw strap of my bag containing traditional darts, clay pellets and some darts dipped in niacin, a tranquiliser that gave the animal no anxiety and so a peaceful death. Che was already armed with his a crudely made wooden bow but his real skill is with his knives. He fired arrows in front on the boar so it turned the other way into the direct sight of my zabatana, my mum’s old darts I treasured but now, those that don’t have niacin, I have tipped with little diamond points, discards from factory nine, on the end, hard to notice unless you are looking closely but the strength of this diamond could come in handy. I took in a short breath and lined raised the zabatana to my mouth and aimed in front of its path. It ran into my aim just as I released a short sharp blast of air into the zabatana; quickly I pulled another dart from my straw bag and slid it into position as my first made a direct hit with the boar’s skull. My second flew through the air and hit just above its eye, I felt amazing and look to Che for approval. His eyes were already on me, admiration clear as he hurried over to me and then on towards the boar. A quick slit of the throat stopped the boar’s nerves twitching and I retrieved my darts from it and collected Che’s knives. As I arrived back, Che removed his shirt and tied the boar’s legs together so it was easier to carry it. All the tendons in his neck strained as he hoisted the boar up over his shoulder, and the muscles in his back and shoulders tightened until he got it into a comfortable position. His skin was naturally fair but in the summer, the sun got immensely strong leaving us all tanned apart from those who spend day after day in the factories or mines, who once all the dirt has been scrubbed off are as white as a sheet. I wiped the majority of the blood off the darts onto my shirt and place them back into my pouch. I fit the knives into my belt; ran quickly back to the boulder to collect my fishing equipment and sauntered across to Che as he turned around, ushering me along. A smile started to form on his lips as he stifled a laugh.