"Grab hold of the wheel there," Douglas instructed, "and I'll knock the axle loose."
Liam did as his father instructed, bending over the cart and grabbing it with both hands.
"All right, hold it still now."
They worked in silence, the hot afternoon sun beating down on them. This was how it had always been between the two of them, father and son. Liam had never really related to his father all that much. They didn't talk, except when Douglas needed help with something. And Liam never felt the need to get more out of the old man. Liam didn't like to think that he hated his father. He preferred to think that they just didn't have anything in common. They had a duty to each other because they were family, and that was the extent of their relationship.
With one final blow, the axle on the cart came loose, and the wheel slipped off.
"Good," said the old man. "Now take it around to the other side of the shed. I'll put the new axle on it."
Liam lifted the wheel and carried it around the building. As he came around the shed, he caught sight of Samira. She carried a heavy-looking bucket over her right arm, and she braced it with her left. Every day she mercifully brought fresh water to the fields to quench the farmers' parched throats. She waved at Liam as she approached.
Samira was tired. Liam could tell by the way she carried herself that the past two tendays had taken their toll. It pained him to know how much she was mourning the loss of his brother. Something so beautiful shouldn't have to feel such an ugly emotion.
The other farmers saw her approaching with the bucket, and they flocked over to the shed to get a dipper full of the clean fresh well water. Liam put the wheel down and turned to be the first in line.
"Hello Samira," he said, taking off his cap.
"Afternoon, Liam." She smiled, worry lines creasing her face. "You look thirsty. Care for a drink?"
"Yes. Thank you."
Samira lifted the dipper out of the bucket and handed it to Liam. Covered in dust, standing out in the hot sun, the cool fresh water tasted better than any water he'd ever had. Though he knew this was the same water from the same well that he'd been drinking from since he was young, somehow, it always tasted better after a long day's work.
He finished the water in one long slurp, then handed the dipper back. As he did, he made eye contact with Samira. There was sadness there. Sadness and pain. Her eyes seemed as if they were carrying a heavy weight all by themselves, holding back the emotions Samira was too brave to show off here among the other farmers. It was as if all of her anguish over losing Ryder had been packed away behind those two beautiful blue eyes. They struggled to hold it all back. But somehow, while Liam looked on, they softened. For a moment, the burden they carried was lifted, and a wave of happy relief swept over them.
"Come on, son, don't hold up the line." The farmer behind him gave a light shove, and Liam looked away from Samira as he stepped aside and out of line.
Liam went back and lifted the wheel he and his father had been working on. Standing up, he found himself face to face with Captain Beetlestone. The veteran was backed by four other soldiers.
"Well, well," said Beetlestone as he doffed his helm. "Back hard at work, are we?"
Liam shifted his grip on the wheel. "What do you want?"
"Don't you know?"
Farmers in Furrowsrich village were a notoriously nosey bunch, and a crowd began to form behind Liam, watching the interchange.
"No, Beetlestone, I don't."
The guard captain smirked. "It's been two tendays. Lord Purdun wants to know if you've thought about his offer to join his elite guard."
Liam looked back at the group of farmers. Everyone was silent, pretending to mind their own business, but he could tell they were hanging on every word.
"No, I haven't."
"Well-" the captain said, taking a step closer to Liam- "let me give you a piece of advice. If I were you, I'd take him up on it." He stepped back, examining in the entire crowd in one long, slow glance. "Someone like you doesn't get too many opportunities. Could change your life."
Liam blinked.
The farmers began to murmur. Beetlestone wasn't lying. Many of these people would give all they had to see their son or daughter taken into the baron's elite guard.
Life in Furrowsrich was hard. No money, long days in the fields, barely enough to get by. Taking this position would mean an easier life for him and his family. But that was exactly why he couldn't take it. It was Purdun who created this situation, and if Liam let himself be bought, then who would look after the interests of these other folks? If every revolutionary in the Crimson Awl could be bought, then Purdun would win. At least if Liam held out, there was a chance, albeit a small chance, of the Awl overthrowing the baron and changing everyone's lives at the same time.
Beetlestone put his helm back on his head. "Well, think about it. Think real hard about it." He turned to the rest of his men. "Let's go." The guard captain walked away, his men falling into step behind him.
Liam took the wheel into the shed. Though it was hot, the shade was a merciful relief from the sun beating down on his head and the farmers' staring eyes on his back.
His father followed him in. "What was that about?"
Liam shook his head. "Nothing."
"Nothing? Sounded like something to me," said Douglas, raising his voice and moving closer to his son.
Liam flinched. Ever since he was a little boy, his father would use his superior size to gain the advantage in an argument. Despite the fact that Liam was no longer five years old, and he was now taller than his father, Douglas was still well-muscled from his time in the fields, and his father's commanding tone intimidated him.
"I told you already, Lord Purdun asked me some questions."
"Captain Beetlestone said something about an offer." Douglas moved in even closer, his chin nearly touching Liam's cheek. "What offer is he talking about, Liam?"
Liam squirmed. "All right," he said as he took a step away from the older man. "Purdun offered me a spot on his elite guard."
"And you didn't take it? What kind of fool are you?"
Liam's anger rose at his father's goading. It replaced his sorrow and gave him strength. He squared his shoulders and glared down at Douglas. "Not the kind of old fool who waits around, toiling his whole life just so that fat pig Purdun can get rich off my hard work." He shoved his father.
Douglas lost his balance and had to take a step back. It wasn't that the shove was so hard that it actually overpowered the old man, but the action surprised both father and son.
Liam's heart pounded. He was tired of being muscled around, and now he'd done what he'd never before had the courage to do. The feeling thrilled him. But there would be consequences, and that also terrified him.
Douglas came back with both fists balled up, ready for a fight. "You prepared to back that up, boy?"
Liam instinctively reached for his belt, but he hadn't brought a sword. Glancing around the room, he looked for something to defend himself with. It was too late to talk his way out of this; he'd seen that look in his father's eyes too many times. Their arguments had often ended this way over the years. But this one was different. This time, Liam had made contact, and the old man wasn't going to let that go unpunished.
Liam remembered back to a time when he was only ten years old. They had been out in these very fields, and he and Ryder had been practicing their sword fighting with a couple of hoes. Douglas had stepped between their little game, and Liam had feigned a blow to the old man's head. His father had grabbed him by the arm and lifted him clean off the ground.
Looking Liam in the eyes, Douglas had said, "If you hit me, you'd better make sure I don't get back up. Because if I do, you'll be sorry."