Blade of Champions

Chapter Twenty One: The Accolade

        CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

        THE ACCOLADE

 Warm and rich, with just a hint of spice...

The smell oozed over Hughell,  slow and ever so gradual, like butter melting on a hot rock.

His tongue moved in response to the smell, his lips parted. Before he knew what he was doing, his eyes had creaked open, searching for the source.

He was lying in a low shelter of some sort. Sunlight filtered down through gaps in the fern-fronds. Across the room, a boy crouched, sipping from a shallow dish made from a curl of bark. The boy lowered the makeshift bowl, licking a drip of golden-brown liquid from his chin with obvious relish.

Hughell attempted a greeting - and a dry, croaking sound came from his throat.

The boy jumped. 'You awake!' he blurted, his eyes widening. He put the soup down on the ground, almost spilling it in his excitement, and seemed at a loss for what to say. 'Can - can I get you somethin'?'

Hughell croaked again, then pointed to the bark-bowl.

'You want some of this?' the lad queried, and Hughell could only nod his head.

Clumsily, the boy held it to his lips and Hughell sipped eagerly. The warm liquid slid down his throat like liquid heat, rich and nutty to the taste.

'What is it?' Hughell managed to ask, when he had swallowed the first mouthful. There was something else he had meant to ask, but that was all he could think of at that moment. His mind felt hazy, uncertain, as though the thoughts themselves were walking in circles.

'Chestnut soup.'

'Really? I never had it before,' Hughell murmured. He shifted slightly on the grassy pallet - and gasped as pain spread across his skin like red-hot coals.

The boy's eyes grew wide. 'You better not move,' he said, holding up his palm as he edged towards the door. 'Stick right there. I'll go get help.'

Hughell stared at the retreating figure. There was something familiar about that off-beat gait, those spidery thin arms and legs...

'Wait!' he rasped.

The boy stopped halfway out the door, which was really just a gap in the branch walls. 

'Have... have I seen you before?' Hughell frowned, trying with all his might to remember.

The boy nodded, his eyes lighting up. 'For sure!' he said. 'I was the first one up the rope. You stopped me from fallin' down, remember?'

The slaves!

Hughell's head throbbed as memories of the rescue came swirling back: slowly at first, then all in a flood. 'What happened?' he asked breathlessly. 'Did everyone make it out? Are they alright?'

The boy nodded, a smile spreading on his thin cheeks. 'Better than alright, sir. We're free.'

Hughell was only expecting one visitor to return with the boy, so he was almost taken aback when a crowd of footsteps approached and all three of his comrades crowded into the shelter at once.

Attagood came first, stooped almost double to avoid putting his head through the ceiling. 'About time,' he said sternly, but his eyes were twinkling. 'We've been doing all the hard work without you.'