freedom seires book 1 the savior chp 3&4

Chapter 3
The boys got up from their seats on the dirt floor, and began, what they liked to call, their dog duties. Awhile ago, when they first met, they laid down some ground rules. Like, if they were going to live together, then their place, whether it was a blanket under a tree or a grand castle, was going to be kept relatively clean. So Drake and the boy set off on their dog duties. Drake went up the rope to get some water and fish from the river and the boy went off into the forest to get some meat.
Drake came back first. He cleaned up his side of the room and then sat out on the ledge, looking down into the ocean with a bow and arrow in hand. He had the bow notched, with a string tied to the arrow. Scooping out the water, he quickly spied what he wanted. Raising the bow, he took aim, and shot almost 100 yards away at a hawk hovering above the water searching for fish. The arrow flew true, and hit the bird square in the chest, and it fell into the water, dead, without a sound. Slowly, Drake pulled the rope back, dragging the hawk towards him. Gradually, it lifted out of the water, and was pulled up onto the ledge. Drake started a fire, and began to roast the bird.
That was one of his favorite pastimes, shooting the birds from the cave. The boy, or Brother, as Drake liked to call him, loved to watch him, and could never get over how true his aim was, and how skillful he was with the bow. But Brother couldn’t see Drake shoot this bird. On its back was a small tube with a letter in it.
We have found you. Your information was true. We shall attack at dawn. Escape with the boat so he gains your trust. I have soldiers at all of your closest hideouts. If we succeed, she is yours. No tricks this time.             
Sincerely;
The General
Drake closed up the tube and threw it into the water below. He couldn’t let Brother see it, after all. He closed his eyes and sighed. When he opened them, he saw Brother slide down the rope. The boy he had known forever. The boy who had saved his life. The boy was like a brother to him. He couldn’t stand to hurt him. But he had to.
Still, when they went to sleep that night after eating the messenger bird, Drake couldn’t find peace in what he did. He almost wished the general never found this place. He almost wished the general wouldn’t come.
Almost.
Chapter 5
The boy woke to the sounds of hushed voices and the muffled clanks of armor. He silently pushed his ratty blanket off of him and crept over to Drake, who was sleeping on his side. “Wake up” he whispered, gently touching Drake’s shoulder. Drake bolted upward, glancing around wildly until he saw the boy. To let, the boy realized his mistake. Drake hated to be woken up. He always yelled at the boy for doing so. Drake opened his mouth wide, ready to yell, when the boy pushed him back down on his bed, and shoved his hand over his mouth. The boy shook his head once, put a finger to his lips, and slowly took his hand off of Drake’s mouth. Drake looked at him questionably, cocking his head to once side. The boy pointed upward, and mouthed, “soldiers”. A look of shock came over Drake’s face, and he silently got up, and walked over to the rope that was hanging down outside the ledge. It was new, and much, much longer then Drake’s ratty rope he usually had there. A soldier’s rope. Drake turned to see the boy with a bag in his hand, putting a knife and dried fruit in it. In his hand was the sword he had taking long ago when he had rescued Drake. It was sharp and shinny, still looking brand new after all these years. The boy practiced with it daily, just as Drake practiced with his that he had found on the road near a ambush site. They were both skilled swords men, but no match for the 50 some soldiers up there, getting ready to come down.  Slowly, the boy came over to Drake, and handed him a small bag too. Then, the boy picked up Drake’s bow and arrow, notched it, and let it fly, high into the air, until it arched over, and landed above them, right where there soldiers were.
         There was a sudden scream of pain, and the boy saw a man fall down on his knees, and lean over, falling off the cliff.
         The man’s sword fell first, and the boy shot out his hand to catch it, and then the man fell. He tumbled over the edge, a look of pure terror carved into his face. His armor clanked as he dropped towards the sea. Then there was a splash and…silence.
         The soldier, a man the boy didn’t even know was dead, his life taking by the arrow, and given to the sea.
         The soldiers let out roars of outrage, and then the arrows flew. Hot with flames, they rained down on the boy, making him run back into the cave, patting out the fire one of the arrows had set on his dirty sleeve. Quickly, Drake ran over to the boy, checking his arm for blood, but the arrow had just missed him, close enough to set a fire, but not close enough to draw blood.
         The two boys looked at each other and nodded once. They had to leave. There was no way they could fight off all those soldiers, not when they had swords, arrows, and most importantly, fire. So, the boys looked around their home, silently saying goodbye to their belongings and the sense of safeness that this cave had brought them for almost a month. It was time to move on.
          Together the boys ran deep into the cave, into a maze of passageway and tunnels. They both knew the cave by heart, so without pausing, they hung a sharp left, into a tunnel hidden by rocks and shadows.
         Inside the tunnel it was incredibly dark, but the boys had practiced this escape route both with fire and with darkness. They could get though the whole labyrinth with their eyes closed.
         See, when they first found the cave, they realized that there was one major problem with it. If someone found them, lets say, soldiers, then they would be trapped prey. So they memorized the passageways of the cave and found dozens of escape routes. Right now, they were heading down the Drake’s favorite escape, because it leads out to the beach. It also consists of a hidden path that only Drake and the boy knew of.
         They dashed down the packed dirt tunnel, until Drake held out his hand, stopping the boy, and putting his finger to his lips, telling the boy to shhh. The boy stopped immediately. He had learned to trust Drake’s hearing. It had saved them numerous times.
         The boy strained his ears, but couldn’t hear anything. He glanced at Drake, and saw him looking down a tunnel to their right. Then, the boy heard it; the clanking and clanging of soldier’s armor and weapon. He could hear their footfalls and their slow breathing. They were close.
         Suddenly, Drake pulled on his hand, gesturing to a hidden passageway right above them. it was a little hole in the ceiling, just big enough for the boys to fit though. Drake jumped up grabbing the edge of the hole, and pulled himself up until you couldn’t see him at all. Then, his hand shot out from the hole, and he called softly, “Brother, come on.” The boy, ignoring Drake’s hand, leaped right into the hole, a skill he had gained about a week ago. He loved to show off to Drake about it, just like Drake loved to show off his bow skills.  The two boys nodded to each other, and Drake set off, crawling around the hole and heading east, closer to the tunnel that would get them out of here.  Drake called for Brother again, but when he turned, he saw him leaning over the hole, a rock in hand. “What are you doing?” he asked, eager to get to the beach. “Watch” the boy said, holding the rock up and pointing to the soldiers standing a little bit off to the left of the hole. Brother weighed the rock in his hand, took a deep breath, and threw the rock over into the tunnel closest to the soldiers, making the cave echo with noise. “Get down!” he said, shoving Drake’s hand closer to the ground. The soldiers were all running towards the tunnel where the rock was thrown, but if one of them looked up… “That was stupid” Drake whispered in the boy’s ear, afraid they would get caught. “It was smart,” the boy whispered back. “Now we know how many there are, and we just bought ourselves at least five minuets.”  The boy turned and headed into the tunnel, and Drake looked out of the hole, staring that the men pouring though. “Yeah great, it’s nice to know that there are almost a hundred men waiting for us. Really reassuring.” Then he turned at followed the boy into the tunnel, and he was swallowed by darkness once more.
****
The tunnel’s end was abrupt, but the boys were ready for it. There was a reason why Drake had taken this tunnel, the boy knew, because it had the thickest walls out of all of them. That and no one listens for noise above them. When the boys reached the end of the tunnel, they simply jumped down though the hole in the ceiling, and ended up in yet another tunnel.
The boy ran over to the tunnel wall, and began feeling along the ground, searching for seams in the wall. Drake got his knife out of his bag, and jammed it into the ground and knelt down, pressing his ear to the dirt.
“They’re close,” he whispered, taking his knife out of the ground and standing up, dusting he’s knees off. “Did you find it?” The boy nodded, taking Drake’s knife from his hand and ran it up and down a small, indictable seam in the wall, until it cracked, reveling a handle hidden in the stone. He grabbed the handle and heaved, pushing the thick stone tablet to the left. Behind it were a winding stone staircase, and the smell of fresh sea air. He turned, beckoning Drake to go inside. Drake stepped down into the tunnel, glancing at the boy.” You coming?” he asked.
Then, the boy leapt into the air, his sword flashing silver in the dim glow. Drake turned from the staircase just in time to see blood splatter along the cave walls, painting them scarlet. The boy walked away from the limp body of the soldier he had just cut the head off of. “Let’s go,” he said, grabbing the man’s torch from his lifeless hand, and running into the tunnel after Drake.
We ran down the stone stair case that was crudely cut out of the wall, dripping with moisture and slime. About halfway down, after all that winding and winding of the staircase, Drake stopped. He turned at faced the boy, fear in his eyes. “The door.” He whispered. “We never shut the door.” The boy’s eyes opened wide, and panic gripped him, stopping his breathing. “Come on.” He whispered running back up the stairs.
By the time that made it back up, the soldiers were almost to the door. They could hear them thundering around in the tunnel, close enough to pose a threat. Together, the boys grabbed the door handle, and pulled, trying with all their strength to shut the door, but moving a huge stone tablet is harder then it looks. Whoever had made it had designed it so it would open easily, but difficult to close.
“Drake.” The boy said, suddenly, and stopped pulling on the door. “Give me your wineskin.” Drake stopped pulling, and looked at the boy with wide, angry eyes. “Now is not the time to have a drink Brother!” It was amazing. Drake had an ability to sound so, so mad in such a soft voice. It was almost scary. But, not as scary as the soldiers who were almost at the door. “Now!” he hissed, and grabbed Drake’s bag, ripping the wineskin from his outstretched hands. He dashed down the staircase, sprinkling the straight vodka from Drake’s bag onto the steps.
They sprinted down the stairs, with the soldiers now right behind them. “Why did we go back?” hissed Drake, partly from anger, partly from the exertion from the stairs. “We had to try,” was all the boy said, trying to conserve his strength as he worked his legs to move down those stairs.
Then, finally, the boys were done; the stairs had ended, bringing them into a small, dark chamber with one tunnel, with a bright light at the end. The boy emptied what was left in the wineskin on the last step, then listened for the soldiers. “Come on!” said Drake, standing in front of the tunnel, eager to get out and away from the men. “Wait,” murmured the boy, holding up one finger. “Give me the torch.”
Drake handed the boy the burning torch, and slowly backed away as he watched the boy. He realized what he was about to do right before he did it. The boy dropped the torch, and the stairs lit up with flames, licking up the vodka on the stairs like hungry flaming lions who had just awoken from their sleep, ready to hunt.
And hunt those flames did. Even from down there, the boys could hear the soldier’s screams as they were burned alive from the dancing orange flames. They could hear their swords clattering on the stone steps, and they could feel the heat the men were feeling, even though they were almost 10 yards away.
Then, as quickly as the flames came, they left, happy and content with the flesh and human life they had consumed.
And the boys were running into the tunnel, making the 100 meter dash to freedom. Freedom for now, at least.