The sky was dark when they set out at last. The sun would peer over the horizon soon, but for now all was cast in darkness. Merlumo and Garinor skulked from shadow to shadow, seeking a storehouse across the town. It was there the wagon would stop to exchange its cargo.
The town was eerily quiet. Some stray animals walked about and looked curiously at the two of them as they skittered across a street and pressed themselves up against the wall or crouched low to creep beneath an open window. They walked on tiptoes whenever possible, which wasn’t easy with Garinor’s injuries. The herbal water had helped immensely, however, and the pain was definitely more bearable for him now.
Footsteps sounded on the nearby path and they froze in place, trying not to breathe. However, Merlumo’s foot stuck out beyond the edge of the house and he was spotted.
“You there,” called a dark voice. “Come forth.”
Merlumo tapped Garinor’s hand, signaling him to remain still. He then stepped from the shadows and turned his head as if he was looking for someone. He gestured to the watchman by putting his finger to his lip in a call for silence. With an easy gait, he walked over to the patrolman and whispered conspiratorially, “Some’un’s out lookin’ fer trubble. Thought he wen’ dis way.”
The watchman eyed Merlumo in the darkness. It took a moment, but he recognized him. “Oh, it’s you, Mer. You know you shouldn’t be out if it’s not your watch.”
“Yeah,” he continued to whisper, “bu’ I thinks he was affer sometin. Woked me up, ya know.”
The man’s eyes narrowed and he scanned the street. “That so? What did he look like?”
“Big ‘un. Tall too. Looked sneaky, if yer know wot I’m meanin’.” He aimed a finger carelessly in another direction. “That’er way, I thinks.”
“Fine, I’ll go look, Mer. Good work. You get yourself back to your haven.” He gave a strange sort of salute and then walked off silently in the direction Merlumo had indicated.
“Come on,” he said to Garinor when the coast was clear. “It won’t take long for him to get to the end of that path and find no one around.”
They continued their trek to the storehouse and dodged two other patrolmen. A cat almost gave them away when it meowed at them and hissed, but the watchman on the road was half asleep as he marched along.
Soon the giant walls of the storehouse loomed over them. Heavy doors barred the way inside, but Merlumo spent a few quick moments with the lock and was able to open it. The hinge creaked, but no one was nearby to be alerted.
Inside, it was very hard to see. A glimmer of fading moonlight trickled through one window but it hardly helped. They felt around blindly with their hands, looking for long crates in which Garinor could hide. Merlumo was familiar enough with the storehouse to know where they were kept.
Though they couldn’t see the contents of the various crates, Merlumo told Garinor about what was shipped out of this town. Mostly, jars of honey and fruit spreads, and massive amounts of candles. Three crates were filled with candles, and each crate was as long as Garinor was tall.
They needed to work fast. Merlumo ran his hands along the three cases of crates until he found an insignia carved into the side of one of them. That crate was specially crafted for the king himself and its contents had been inspected by the candlemaker and then thoroughly sealed. Merlumo, however, simply walked over and dislodged the foot of the crate with hardly any effort. He grinned at Garinor’s gasp.
“I’ve been busy the last couple days,” he whispered. “Little by little I tore away at the bindings on this part. They only ever check the top seals, never the sides. So I yanked this one off, took out most of the stuff inside, and now it’s ready for you to go in.” He found Garinor in the darkness and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Only one problem. It’s a bit tight and you’ll have a hard time breathing in there. There’s cracks around to let more air in, but you’ll be out of it for most of the trip.”
Garinor nodded.
“When it’s safe to come out, I’ll knock four times. They’ll be sharp raps, so be ready for them. But it won’t likely be for a while. Get the food and water ready and keep them and one hand up near your head so you can take care of that if you need to.”
“Okay. I’m ready.”
Garinor slid the food and water skins in first and then crawled in as best he could. He needed to remain relatively flat and there was no way he could get in without help, so Merlumo grabbed him by his clothes and carefully slid him inside.
It was terrifyingly tight. He felt cramped on all sides. He couldn’t turn around or move much at all. He managed to get one arm down by his side, but he kept the other bent up toward his head as recommended. Merlumo hadn’t been exaggerating; it was very difficult to breathe in there.
The worst feeling was when the base was reattached and pressed hard against his feet. Merlumo pounded around its edges to secure it in place. Now he was trapped.
Fear crept along his skin and made him tremble. He wanted to cry out for help, to be released from this coffin. What if Merlumo lost track of the crate and he ended up far away? What if someone else opened it? Or if not enough air could come through? His mind filled with terrible thoughts and it was hard to keep quiet.
It took a while for Garinor to calm down. A vague numbness crept over him in the silence and he started to forget his panic. He tried to flex and stretch his muscles every so often to keep them from falling asleep, but it wasn’t easy. Though Merlumo had taken out most of the candles, he had left some inside so they would rattle around like normal and no one would suspect anything odd about the crate. The scent of beeswax gave Garinor a massive headache, which further distracted him from the tight enclosure.
Then all of a sudden, the box tilted and his head crashed into the wood with a thud. The candles shuffled all around him. Then the crate was lifted on both ends and moved about. It seemed as if one carrier was a lot weaker than the other, because Garinor’s head slid several times into the wood, as if the man on that end kept putting the crate down to rest.
He lost count of how many times his head impacted the crate side before things settled down. Everything was quiet and calm, and then there was a horrible crashing thunk on top of him. Apparently another crate had been stacked on top of his. Once everything else was loaded, the wagon was finally on its way.
Hours passed by as Garinor languished inside the candle crate. It was a horrible way to travel. He kept wishing Merlumo would knock and rescue him from the prison, but the knocks never came. He felt the wagon stop and have its inventory shuffled around. Garinor assumed they had landed in another town and traded wares as before, but as his crate was marked for the king, it was left undisturbed. The wagon was off again and it felt like it was moving faster, as if the new merchandise didn’t weigh as much.
He nodded off a few times along the way. There was so little air coming into the crate that he felt rather lightheaded, and it was easy to doze off when the ride was stable. He chose not to try to eat or drink because he knew that once his body digested it, there was no place for it to go. He would rather deal with hunger pains than a mess.
He had no idea if hours or days were passing by while he was stuck inside the crate. He only knew that his life was in jeopardy if anything went wrong.
Soon after thinking that, something happened, and he wondered forever after if he had created that moment with his thoughts or if he had simply picked up on some new vibration from the area around him.
It seemed to him as if the wagon lost control. He felt everything pitch forward, causing him to hit his head on the crate again and he was bouncing around faster and faster and faster. He was hoping they were just riding down a hill and that his perception was off from being in this darkened box for so long, but his instincts were not wrong. The wagon careened out of control, gaining speed as it went.
Then there was a heart-rending crash. Garinor felt his body crumple under the impact, but thankfully the crate was strong and held together. He lay at a strange angle, as if the box was about to be rolled off the wagon, but it was also tilted toward his head.
He listened carefully but there were no sounds.