With the crate pitched forward and everything quiet all around him, Garinor decided he needed to break free. Mustering his strength, he pushed his feet out and pressed against the wood panel Merlumo had freed earlier. At first nothing happened, but after several tries, he was able to pop it open. The wood fell with a dull thud.
He listened intently for a moment, but no one rushed toward him to explore the sound, so he acted quickly. He wasn’t able to push up with his arms; one was pinned to his side, and the other was crushed against his face. So he extended his feet out and latched them against the sides of the crate. He pulled hard and was able to lift himself a couple of inches. This caused two things to happen. He freed his arm slightly from against his face, and some of the candles slid under his head and crowded into the corner there. These both worked to his advantage.
With the added mobility of his arm, Garinor was able to push up somewhat from his precarious position, and with the candles that had slid forward, he was able to push against them instead of the wall, which allowed him to move up higher. More candles slid down and he found a new purchase against them. Little by little he slid up and released his other arm.
It took a while for him to free himself of the wooden box and he scored several scrapes against the edges of it, but he didn’t much care. When he was able to drink in a full breath of air, he felt more alive than he had in a long time.
A few minutes passed by before Garinor realized that it was night. The sky was littered with stars and the moon shone down on the scene around him. Although he looked around and saw everything, he needed some time before all the clues fell into place.
Deep ruts scored a hill leading right to where he was standing. A heavy stone wall stood behind him, which the wagon had thoroughly crashed into. The entire cart was mangled beyond recognition. The cargo boxes were damaged, except for the one he had occupied. He surmised that because it was meant for the king, it had been a stronger box than the others. As he looked, he saw that one of the other crates had been sliding off the right side of the wrecked platform and his crate was on the left. When he had climbed out, the offset weight allowed the whole thing to tilt to toward the right and settle there.
Garinor turned toward the left, where a line of low rocks and then a steep hill loomed over a gushing river. He looked back at the wagon and realized with horror what would have happened if he hadn’t gotten out of the crate. The other cargo would have slid off, then the platform would have tilted back to the left with his weight and he would have gone rolling down that hill and into the river below.
Weak and horrified, Garinor felt his stomach leap into his throat.
The moon sailed through the sky for a while before Garinor felt well enough to move again. Hunger worked its way into his thoughts; he hadn’t eaten all day. He knew there was food and water in the crate but he couldn’t bring himself to climb aboard and try to claim it.
He regretted the loss of his meal, but he was grateful to be alive. The quiet night air was punctuated with normal nighttime wildlife sounds and he relished in the tranquility. His empty stomach kept reminding him he needed to eat, but he refused to acknowledge the demands for as long as possible. Let him have his calm moment and he would figure out sustenance later.
Garinor paced around and stretched, working out the kinks and pains from his sojourn in the crate. He felt muddled and found it hard to concentrate on things for long, and at last he decided he needed to do something about food. He made himself pace back to the destroyed wagon and prepared to mount it and try to pull his crate off the platform to retrieve the victuals inside, but then something else caught his eye.
The other crate, which had been sliding off the right side, was broken open and he could see the remains of several glass jars glittering in the moonlight. He knelt beside the crate and pried the top open further. What he saw made his eyes water and his stomach cry out in triumph.
The crate was full of jams and honey. It was one of the food crates he had started the journey with. Many of the canisters were shattered from the impact, leaving behind pools of mixed fruit spreads. He avoided these in case of broken glass, but there were plenty of jars that hadn’t broken. He lacked bread, but at that moment his stomach didn’t care. Fingers unplugged a wooden cork and scooped out globs of sugared strawberries, bringing the sweet paste to his mouth. He had never tasted anything finer. He only stopped when he started belching and hiccupping. Wiping his hand on the grass, he sank back and closed his eyes, listening to the sound of the river far below.
He wondered what had happened to the wagon. What had made it lose control in the first place? Why hadn’t the driver avoided the danger at all costs?
Garinor suddenly sat upright, his eyes popping wide. He had been in such a daze from all the banging on his head and the long, cramped ride and the hazardous crash with his frantic exit, that he forgot entirely other people were supposed to be around. There would be the driver and all the guardsmen to protect the cargo. Yet no one was nearby. Even the horses that drew the wagon were missing.
He looked around under the midnight sky but he could see no other signs of life. The giant stone wall behind him was his only clue that anyone inhabited anything nearby. He wasn’t sure he wanted to explore right now, but he also knew if any of the wagon guards were still alive, they would soon be looking for it.
And what of Merlumo? What had happened to him? Was everything all right?
Garinor would never know Merlumo had been discovered by those traveling with them, for he had lied to them about being assigned to guard the wagon. A scuffle had broken out at some point and in trying to keep Garinor’s hiding place secret, he had tried to fend off the entire patrol, pretending he was a thief merely looking for an easy score. The battle had been a quick one, but in the process the horses had been cut loose and the cart went barreling down the hill. And though Merlumo had managed to defeat the other five guards, he had been mortally wounded in the process.