Chapter 5 - The Road To Freedom

CHAPTER FIVE

The wagon had stopped.

For several seconds, no one moved.

The only sounds were heavy breathing, creaking wood, frightened whispers and the distant echoes of chaos still rolling down from the cave behind them.

Enshin remained at the front of the wagon, both hands locked around the pull bar.

His arms shook.

His legs shook.

His bare feet had been scraped raw by stone, dirt and the brutal descent down the hill. Sweat dripped from his face and struck the road. His shirt clung to his back. His crooked shades somehow remained on his face, though one side had slipped lower than the other.

He looked exhausted.

He looked ridiculous.

He looked as though he might collapse if someone poked him.

Behind him, the wagon was packed with rescued prisoners. Some remained upright only because others held them in place. Some clutched stolen blankets around their shoulders. Some stared at the road with hollow eyes. Others cried without making a sound.

Among them, Mira knelt over Lysa.

“Lysa…”

Lysa did not wake.

But she breathed.

Faintly.

Then again.

Mira pressed her scraped fingers against Lysa’s cheek.

“You’re here,” she whispered. “You’re here. I found you.”

Then she lifted her eyes.

They settled on Enshin.

The softness vanished.

Her hand snapped towards her bow.

Several prisoners flinched.

Enshin turned his head.

“Uh…”

Mira drew an arrow and aimed it at his chest.

“You have five seconds to explain where you’re taking them—”

Her voice cracked halfway through the sentence.

She hated that it did.

Mira swallowed and forced the words out again.

“Where are you planning to take them?”

Enshin blinked.

Then he looked at the arrow.

At the wagon.

At the distant city.

Then back at Mira.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” He lifted one hand from the pull bar, holding his palm open. “I saved them from the bandit cave.”

“You dragged them down a hill in a stolen wagon!”

“I was trying to get them away from the collapsing cave!”

“You nearly killed them!”

“The hill did that part!”

“That is not an answer!”

“I don’t know how to argue with a hill!”

Mira did not lower the arrow.

Her chest rose and fell too quickly. Her shoulder throbbed from the Verdant Lifeline Arrow. Her hands stung from clinging to the wagon. Her legs felt weak, and her eyes burned from more than fear.

But Lysa was behind her.

Unconscious.

Weak.

Barely breathing.

This strange young man was apparently connected to the summoning beam. He had torn apart a bandit hideout, dragged a wagon full of prisoners downhill and now stood at the front of their only means of escape.

Mira could not afford to trust him.

Not now.

Not with Lysa like this.

“Step away from the wagon,” she ordered.

Enshin stared at her.

Then, carefully—very carefully—he released the pull bar and stepped back.

The moment his hands left the wood, his arms dropped to his sides as though they had lost permission to exist.

“Okay,” he said.

Mira narrowed her eyes.

That bothered her.

He had obeyed too easily.

“You expect me to believe you’re harmless?”

“No.”

Again, the answer came too quickly.

Mira hesitated.

Enshin rubbed one aching wrist, then winced.

“You don’t know me. I barely know where I am. I was at home, and then this beam of light—or portal thing, or summoning thing—grabbed me and dropped me into a cave. So, yeah, don’t trust me. That makes sense.”

“That makes no sense.”

“It doesn’t make sense to me either.”

Mira drew the arrow back a little farther.

“Stop talking.”

“Okay.”

He stopped.

For three seconds.

Then his gaze moved towards her ears.

Then towards Lysa.

Then towards another rescued prisoner with pointed ears.

His exhausted expression shifted into sudden awe.

“Wait…”

Mira’s stare sharpened.

Enshin pointed very slowly.

“You’re elves.”

Her expression went flat.

“I am holding a weapon on you.”

“I know. I know. Sorry.” His eyes still sparkled through his exhaustion. “It’s just—there’s more than one.”

Mira stared at him in disbelief.

“You are being threatened.”

“Yeah. That part is bad.”

“And you are distracted because there are elves?”

“I didn’t plan for this many at once.”

Mira’s jaw tightened.

That was when Melra reached them.

“Mira!”

Her voice cut across the road like a branch snapping in two.

Mira did not turn.

“I have him.”

“No,” Melra said, storming towards the wagon. “You have not slept. You are bleeding. Your shoulder is injured. You have overstrained your magic. And you are pointing an arrow at the person who just dragged Lysa out of a collapsing bandit cave.”

Mira’s expression twisted.

“He could still be dangerous!”

“He could be,” Melra said. “Which is why you are going to stop interrogating him while exhausted.”

“I’m fine!”

The shout cracked across the road.

Several prisoners flinched.

Mira froze.

She had not meant to raise her voice that much.

Melra’s expression hardened, but not with anger.

With worry.

“Did you sleep last night as you were instructed?”

Mira tightened her grip on the bow.

“That does not matter.”

“It matters when you are making decisions with a weapon in your hand.”

“I said I’m fine!”

“You are not fine.”

Mira’s eyes shone.

For a moment, she looked ready to argue again.

Then Lysa’s hand shifted weakly against the folded cloth.

Mira looked down immediately.

Her arrow lowered by an inch.

Melra stepped closer, her voice quieter now.

“Mira. Stay beside her. Rest. Sleep if you can. Leave the interrogation to me.”

“I can’t.”

“You can.”

“I can’t.”

“Mira.”

Melra’s voice softened, but it did not bend.

“I will watch him. I will watch Lysa. I will watch everyone. But you need to stop before fear makes you hurt the wrong person.”

Mira’s lips parted.

No words came.

A tremor passed through her body.

Then she slowly lowered her bow.

Enshin watched the exchange in confused silence.

Melra turned towards him.

“Stop moving.”

Enshin, who had not been moving, somehow froze even harder.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Melra rubbed her temple.

“Good.”

She approached him with her staff in one hand.

Enshin’s eyes followed it.

Then the ground beneath his feet heaved.

Thick tree roots tore up through the earth from deep below.

They did not strike him.

They wrapped around him.

The heavy, woody roots climbed his legs, circled his waist, crossed his chest and pinned his arms firmly but carefully against his sides. More roots coiled around his ankles and anchored themselves deep beneath the ground, holding him securely in place.

Enshin looked down.

His mouth slowly opened.

The tree roots tightened.

Not enough to crush him.

Enough to make escape impossible.

Melra stopped in front of him.

Her stare was cold.

“Who are you?”

Enshin did not answer.

He was staring at the tree roots.

They were not ropes.

They were not chains.

They were thick, living roots drawn from beneath the earth, moving around him like enchanted restraints.

His eyes widened.

“That is so cool.”

Melra snapped her fingers in front of his face.

Enshin blinked.

“Ah. Sorry.”

“Who are you?”

“My name is Enshin Malietoa.”

“Where did you come from?”

“Earth.”

Melra narrowed her eyes.

“That is not a kingdom I know.”

“Yeah, I don’t think it’s around here.”

“Do not play games with me.”

“I’m not.” Enshin tried to gesture, remembered that his arms were bound, then stopped. “I was at home. Then there was this beam of light. Or portal thing. Or summoning thing. I don’t really know. It grabbed me, dropped me into the cave, and then that Vrok guy started acting friendly.”

Melra went still.

The anger did not leave her face.

It changed.

Her eyes moved past Enshin and towards the hill.

Towards the cave.

Towards the place where the beam had struck earlier.

Mira looked up from Lysa.

“Melra?”

Melra did not answer.

The colour slowly drained from her face.

She took one step backwards.

Then another.

Her voice dropped to a whisper.

“A summoner…”

The road seemed to fall silent around the word.

Some of the rescued prisoners had heard her.

Several looked at Enshin differently.

Not with simple fear.

With recognition.

With dread.

With hope.

With old stories sitting behind their eyes.

Enshin looked from Melra to Mira, then towards the prisoners.

“Is… that bad?”

Melra did not answer.

She stared at him as though he had stopped being merely a strange young man and had become a political disaster bound in tree roots.

Enshin swallowed.

“I feel like that’s bad.”

Melra approached him again, moving more slowly this time.

“What did Vrok tell you?”

“That he and his people were survivors. That the people calling them bandits were wrong. That he was helping people. That the chained horned creature was naturally violent. Things like that.”

Melra’s expression darkened.

“And you believed him?”

“At first.”

“At first?”

“Then he kept talking.”

Mira stared at him.

Enshin shifted awkwardly within the tree roots.

“He did that thing where someone acts too friendly while pushing you towards what they want. The cave felt wrong. Nothing about the prisoners matched his story. And the beast didn’t look angry at everyone.”

His gaze moved towards the distant field where the gorehorn had disappeared.

“It looked angry at him.”

Melra’s eyes sharpened.

Enshin looked towards the wagon.

“So I started freeing people.”

“And the bandits?”

His expression changed.

Only slightly.

But enough.

His smile did not return.

Something colder entered his eyes.

“They hurt people in there.”

Melra held his gaze.

The tree roots around him remained tight.

“What do you plan to do with the prisoners?” she asked.

Enshin blinked.

“Take them somewhere safe.”

“Where?”

Enshin looked at her.

Then, because his arms were still bound, he tilted his head towards the distant city.

“Over there.”

Melra followed his gaze.

A castle rose above the city’s stone walls, bright beneath the afternoon sun.

Enshin spoke as casually as though the answer had been obvious the entire time.

“Big walls. Knights. Healers, probably. Beds, maybe. Food. People who actually know what they’re doing.”

Mira stared at him.

Melra did as well.

Enshin looked between them.

“What?”

Before either woman could answer, hoofbeats approached.

Fast.

Malora rode down the road with the force of command itself. Her horse slowed beside the wagon, dirt spraying beneath its hooves. Five knights followed at a distance, scanning the road and tree line.

Malora dismounted before her horse had fully settled.

Her eyes moved first towards Mira.

Then Lysa.

Then Melra.

Then the prisoners.

Then Enshin.

Bound in tree roots.

Barefoot.

Sweaty.

Exhausted.

Still somehow wearing his crooked shades.

Malora drew her sword.

Not wildly.

Not dramatically.

Cleanly.

The blade angled towards Enshin’s chest.

Several prisoners inhaled sharply.

A few knights reached for their weapons, but not all of them drew.

One knight hesitated.

Another looked at Enshin’s scraped feet, torn shirt, confused expression and the tree roots already holding him in place.

“Is he… dangerous?” the knight muttered.

Another whispered, “He does not look like one of the bandits.”

“He dragged the wagon himself,” said a third.

Malora heard them.

Her sword did not move.

“What do you intend to do with these people?”

Enshin looked at the sword.

Then at Melra.

Then back at Malora.

“She asked that too.”

Malora’s stare sharpened.

“That was not permission to avoid answering.”

“Oh. Right.”

He nodded towards the distant city again.

“Take them there.”

Malora glanced towards it.

Then back at him.

“Why?”

“It has walls.”

“I can see that.”

“And guards.”

“I can see those as well.”

“And probably healers.”

“Probably?”

“I just got here.”

Malora narrowed her eyes.

“You just arrived.”

“Yes.”

“From where?”

“Earth.”

One of the knights shifted.

Melra spoke quietly.

“He claims he was brought here by the summoning beam.”

Malora lowered her sword by the smallest amount.

Not enough to suggest trust.

Enough to show that she was thinking.

“A summoner,” she said.

Enshin sighed.

“Everyone keeps saying that like it has a frightening subtitle.”

Malora stepped closer.

“Do you understand what you are?”

“No.”

“Do you understand where you are?”

“Not really.”

“Do you understand who she is?”

Malora tilted her blade slightly towards Lysa without taking her eyes off him.

Enshin looked towards her.

Unconscious.

Pale.

Barely breathing beside Mira.

His expression sobered.

“No. But she needed help.”

Mira tightened her grip around Lysa’s hand.

Malora studied him.

The road seemed to hold its breath.

Enshin did not look malicious.

That was the problem.

He did not stand like a bandit leader caught in a lie. He did not smile like a trafficker pretending innocence. He did not search for hostages, escape routes or weaknesses.

He looked exhausted.

Confused.

Distracted.

Too honest for his own safety.

And yet the wagon behind him existed.

The freed prisoners existed.

The chaos spilling from the ruined hideout existed.

The summoning beam existed.

So did the word summoner.

Malora turned towards Melra.

“Your assessment?”

Melra exhaled slowly.

“He is dangerous.”

Enshin looked offended.

Melra continued.

“But not malicious. Not from what I have seen.”

Malora looked back at him.

Enshin brightened slightly.

“Thank you.”

Melra’s eyes cut towards him.

“That was not praise.”

“Oh.”

Mira muttered, “He is still strange.”

“Extremely,” Melra agreed.

Malora lowered her sword another inch.

“Release his arms, but keep the tree roots around his legs.”

Melra hesitated.

Then she nodded.

The roots around Enshin’s arms and torso loosened before sinking back beneath the earth. Those around his ankles remained, anchored deep underground and ready to tighten again.

Enshin gasped and rolled his shoulders.

“Ohhh, blood flow. Beautiful.”

Malora sheathed her sword, but kept one hand near its hilt.

“We move towards the city. Slowly. The wounded take priority. No sudden movements from you.”

Enshin nodded.

“Yes, ma’am.”

A sound reached his ears.

Running water.

His head snapped towards it.

A narrow stream flowed beside the road, its clear water rushing across smooth stones.

Enshin stared.

His entire posture changed.

Malora noticed immediately.

“What?”

“Water.”

“Do not—”

Enshin stumbled towards the stream.

The tree roots around his ankles pulled tight for half a second. Then Melra released them, allowing them to withdraw beneath the earth with a tired sigh.

“He is going for water,” she said.

Malora watched him suspiciously.

Enshin dropped to his knees beside the stream and shoved his entire face into the water.

Bubbles rose to the surface.

The nearest knight stared.

Another slowly lowered his hand from his sword.

A third whispered, “Is… this the dangerous summoner?”

Enshin burst upright, water streaming down his face and hair.

“OHHHHH, YES! FINALLY, WATER!”

Then he shoved his face back into the stream.

More bubbles rose.

Mira stared.

Melra closed her eyes.

Malora’s expression did not change, but the silence around her grew heavy with disbelief.

Enshin emerged again, gasping.

“AUGH, I AM SO THIRSTY!”

Then he drank again, loudly and without dignity.

Several prisoners watched him.

A small beastkin child, tucked between two older prisoners, blinked at him.

One wounded man whispered, “He saved us?”

Another prisoner answered softly.

“I think so.”

One knight looked towards Malora.

“He does not seem like a trafficker, Captain.”

“No,” Malora said. “He does not.”

Enshin submerged his head again.

Malora added, “That does not make him harmless.”

Melra climbed into the wagon and examined Lysa first.

Mira remained close beside her.

Melra held one hand above Lysa’s chest. Soft green light spread from her palm and sank gently into Lysa’s body.

Mira’s voice trembled.

“Melra?”

“She is alive,” Melra said.

Mira’s shoulders dropped.

Melra continued.

“She is weak and exhausted. She was likely drugged. I can feel traces of restraint magic, but they are fading. She needs proper care.”

Mira pressed both hands over her mouth.

A broken sound escaped anyway.

Melra touched her shoulder.

“You found her.”

Mira shook her head.

“No.”

Her gaze moved towards the stream, where Enshin was still drinking as though he had never seen water before.

“He did.”

Enshin did not hear her.

He was too busy surviving hydration.

Melra searched among the loose supplies near the rear of the wagon. She found several containers, discarded those holding questionable liquids and carried four empty ones towards the stream.

Enshin lifted his dripping head.

“What are you doing?”

“Making the water safe.”

He blinked.

“It isn’t safe?”

“You already drank it?”

“Yes.”

“Without asking?”

“It looked clean.”

Melra stared at him.

Malora stared at him.

Several knights stared at him.

Enshin looked from one face to another.

“Noted.”

Melra filled the containers and held her hands above them. Green-blue light shimmered across the water.

“Purification,” she said.

“Ohhh.”

Enshin looked at the glowing containers.

Then at the stream.

Then back at the containers.

“That’s useful.”

“It prevents people from dying because they thought water looked clean.”

Enshin nodded slowly.

“I feel targeted.”

“You should.”

Melra carried the purified water to the prisoners.

“Small sips,” she told them. “Pass the containers around slowly.”

The prisoners accepted them with trembling hands.

Some drank immediately. Others stared at the water first, as though waiting for the world to take it away.

Melra remained patient.

“Slowly,” she repeated.

Malora began directing the knights.

“One rider back to the cave with my report. Tell the others to continue securing evidence and moving the wounded survivors. Two of you scout ahead. Harness the remaining two horses to the wagon. I will guard the rear.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“The wagon goes to the infirmary gate first.”

Enshin returned to the wagon, soaked from the neck upwards.

He looked better.

Still exhausted.

Still scraped and dirty.

But better.

He gripped the pull bar again.

Malora looked at him.

“The horses can pull it.”

Enshin paused.

Then he looked at the wagon.

At the horses.

At the distant city.

Then at his trembling hands.

“That would be smarter.”

“Yes.”

“Much smarter.”

“Yes.”

He nodded.

Then continued holding the pull bar.

Malora narrowed her eyes.

“You are still holding it.”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

Enshin looked towards the castle.

His fingers tightened around the wood.

“This is heavy.”

“Yes.”

“Really heavy.”

“Yes.”

“My entire body hates it.”

“That is a reason to stop.”

A faint smile appeared on his face.

“But it feels amazing.”

Several knights fell silent.

One slowly looked away.

Another whispered, “Please don’t give the captain ideas for training.”

Malora heard him.

Her gaze shifted.

The knight straightened as though his spine had been enchanted.

Melra rubbed her temple again.

Mira looked at Enshin as though trying to decide whether he was brave, stupid or some new third category that should not exist.

Malora stepped closer.

“Listen carefully. You may help pull if you insist, but the horses will support the wagon. If your pace jolts the injured, you stop. If you exhaust yourself, you stop. If I order you to release the bar, you release it.”

Enshin nodded.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“No argument?”

“No. There are people in the wagon.”

The answer landed quietly.

Malora studied him for another moment.

Then she turned towards the knights.

“Harness the horses.”

Two knights dismounted and harnessed their horses to the wagon.

Enshin took hold of a spare hauling rope fastened beside the drawbar, allowing him to assist without stepping between the horses.

Together, they began moving.

The wagon rolled slowly along the road.

This time, no slope dragged it forwards.

No cave collapsed behind it.

No wheels screamed out of control.

But it remained heavy.

Painfully heavy.

Enshin worked alongside the horses. Every step made his arms protest. Every uneven patch forced him to slow down so the prisoners would not be jolted.

His bare feet pressed against the road.

His shoulders trembled from the earlier strain.

But he kept moving.

Behind him, Mira sat beside Lysa.

Her eyes struggled to remain open.

Melra noticed immediately.

“Mira.”

“I’m awake.”

“You need sleep.”

“I’m fine.”

“You shouted that earlier. It was not convincing then either.”

Mira’s jaw tightened.

“I’m not leaving her.”

“You are beside her.”

“I’m not sleeping.”

Melra adjusted the cloak around both Mira and Lysa.

“Then close your eyes angrily.”

Mira glared at her.

Melra held her gaze.

Mira lasted three more breaths.

Then her body finally betrayed her.

Her eyes closed.

Her head lowered beside Lysa’s shoulder.

Her hand remained wrapped around Lysa’s.

Melra’s expression softened.

“Finally,” she whispered.

The wagon continued onwards.

For a while, Enshin tried not to speak.

He failed after ten minutes.

“So…”

Several prisoners looked towards him.

He glanced back, then quickly faced forwards again.

“Sorry. I was going to ask where everyone was from, but that might be a bad question right now.”

No one answered.

The silence felt heavy.

Enshin swallowed.

“I’ve seen rescue scenes in shows before. People usually talk afterwards. Or cry. Or tell their story. Or thank the hero. Or something.”

He tightened his grip.

“But this isn’t like that, is it?”

Still no one answered.

That was answer enough.

His voice lowered.

“Sorry. I’ll stop.”

The wagon rolled onwards.

A few moments later, one of the older prisoners spoke quietly.

“Thank you.”

Enshin froze for half a step.

Then he continued pulling.

He did not look back.

“No worries.”

His voice was softer than usual.

The road curved through the open grassland.

The city grew closer.

The castle towers rose higher beyond its walls with every stretch they covered. The walls were no longer a distant shape. They were real stone now, tall and guarded, with banners moving in the wind.

Then Enshin noticed something standing beside the road.

A ram.

She stood in the grass, calmly chewing.

Plain wool.

Plain horns.

A perfectly ordinary face.

No glowing eyes.

No wings.

No spikes.

No murderous aura.

Enshin slowed slightly.

“Huh.”

The ram continued chewing.

Enshin squinted.

“That’s a normal ram?”

The ram stopped.

Her head slowly turned towards him.

For one peaceful second, she stared.

Then her mouth opened.

“NORMAL? OH, WOW. OKAY, FIRST OF ALL, RUDE. SECOND OF ALL, THANK YOU. THIRD OF ALL, I WAS HAVING A GREAT GRASS MOMENT BEFORE SOME RANDOM WAGON MAN DECIDED TO JUDGE MY ENTIRE EXISTENCE.”

Enshin froze.

The knights froze.

The prisoners froze.

Even the horses seemed offended by the sudden volume.

Enshin pointed towards the ram.

“The ram talks.”

She gasped.

“And the wagon man observes. Look at us. Learning together.”

Enshin’s face lit up.

“This world has talking rams?”

The ram lifted her chin.

“We do not claim all rams. I am an experience.”

One prisoner blinked very slowly.

Mira, half asleep beside Lysa, murmured, “Please tell me I dreamed that.”

Melra stared at the ram with the expression of someone refusing to add another problem to the day.

Malora looked at the ram.

Then at Enshin.

Then back at the ram.

Her face remained professionally unreadable.

The ram stepped closer, practically vibrating with impossible energy.

“So, what is happening here? Wagon full of trauma? Barefoot man? Suspicious crates? Sleeping elf? Tall, pretty woman looking at me like she wants to file paperwork against my soul? Knight captain giving me the face of royal consequences? Love the atmosphere. Very messy. Very community event.”

Enshin looked back towards the wagon.

Then towards the ram.

“Do you always talk this fast?”

“Only when I’m awake.”

“That doesn’t answer anything.”

“Exactly.”

Enshin stared.

Then he smiled.

“I like you.”

“Of course you do. You look like someone who hears a warning and thinks it’s an invitation.”

Melra’s gaze slowly moved from the ram towards Enshin.

Enshin avoided eye contact.

The ram looked past him towards the rescued prisoners, and her chaotic expression softened slightly.

“Rough day?”

No one answered.

The ram nodded.

“Yeah. Thought so.”

She stepped aside from the road.

“Well, go on, then, Wagon Man. The castle’s that way. Try not to explode before you arrive.”

Enshin tilted his head.

“Is that likely?”

“With you? I dunno. Feels possible.”

Melra whispered, “Concerning.”

Enshin continued helping the horses pull the wagon.

As they passed, the ram called after him.

“And if anyone asks, I was the normal part of your day!”

Enshin laughed.

The sound was tired, bright and completely out of place.

Several prisoners looked towards him.

One almost smiled.

Almost.

The road carried them onwards.

The city walls grew closer.

Watchtowers stood on both sides of the enormous gate. Guards moved along the battlements. Flags snapped in the wind. Beyond the walls, the castle towers rose into the blue sky.

The city no longer resembled a dream painted in the distance.

It looked real.

And waiting.

The horses pulled.

Enshin worked beside them.

The knights guarded.

Melra watched everyone.

Mira finally slept beside Lysa.

Lysa breathed quietly.

The rescued prisoners sat beneath their blankets, holding water, holding one another and holding themselves together as best they could.

For once, Enshin did not shout.

He did not laugh.

He did not ask another question.

He simply kept pulling.

The fantasy world ahead of him was everything he had wanted.

A city.

A castle.

Knights.

Magic.

Monsters.

A real adventure.

But the wagon behind him carried a different kind of weight.

The people inside were not part of a dream.

They were hurt.

They were frightened.

They were real.

Enshin stared towards the gate ahead.

His arms burned.

His feet hurt.

His shoulders screamed.

But he kept walking.

Not because it was easy.

Because it was not.

The wagon rolled towards the city gates.