“So how are we gonna break out of here? We don’t have the key anymore.”
Orli was exasperated and tired.
“I broke out of there once before, and it was a piece of, dare I say, pie,” said Wyll. “I just kicked the old rotted bars out. But Ol’ Forgo has replaced ’em, he has.”
Orli leapt up on the cot and began shaking the bars. “Looks like they still have some play in them, Wyll. Tell me again how you did it—you just hung from the rafters and kept kicking.”
“Yep, but I ain’t strong enough knock out these bars—the frame is fresh wood and mortar.”
“Maybe you can’t,” smiled Orli, “But I bet I can. Move over!”
In a second, the stout boy was up on the cot and swinging from the joists, repeatedly kicking the window and its frame with his powerful Dwarf legs. It was brutish work, but each kick seemed to loosen the bars a little more.
Wyll began egging his friend on: “Orli—think about your Uncle Wump getting killed.”
With that, he kicked the bars twice as hard. “Now think about Fibbhook catching us in smeltery.
Wham! Another powerhouse kick.
“Think about Wump’s whip coming down on your back. Think about how much it stung from each lash.
“Rrrrrrrar!” Now Orli yelled aloud and drew back as far as he could from his hanging position. He delivered a massive kick to the bars, shattering the frame and sending the bars flying out onto the ground.
Wyll clapped him on the back. “Now, let me not make the same mistake twice. When I broke out of here, I forgot to take any food or blankets—let’s remedy that and grab these quilts. And we’ll find some food on our way out of the village. That will keep us living like kings for a few days.”
“But Wyll, where are we going? We can’t go back to the cave,” said Orli as he was gathering up bedding for the journey.
“I say we go north—let’s go to your homeland and try our fortunes there. The Northern Kingdom!”
To Orli, this sounded like an absolutely brilliant idea. “I’d dearly love to go home. My Pa will be angry, but he’s often peeved with me. I’ll just tell my many relatives we got separated here in the south. I will have to explain why I have a Halfling with me, but we’ll cross that cavern later. We can also talk to the Seer.”
“Who’s that?”
“She’s the wisest Dwarf of all, one who knows all and sees all. The Seer will know what causes your Grippe. You could find the cure and return to Thimble Down a hero.”
Wyll shook his friend’s hand eagerly. At that, the two boys bounded out of the shattered window frame, and carrying a few quilts, sped northward towards the Great Wood and beyond. Orli was excited to be going home and Wyll Underfoot felt he was about to go on the adventure of a lifetime.
In a heartbeat, they were gone.
* * *
Dorro and Forgo were conferring in front of the gaol the next morning, both feeling sheepish over the boys’ escape. “It was so obvious,” groaned the Sheriff. “Why didn’t I think it was coming? Anyway, I have yet another window to replace.”
“And once again, I shall bear the burden of cost,” said Dorro. “It won’t be the first, nor the last time, I’m afraid.”
“There you two are!” Both Halflings turned around to see Aramina Wump—aka, Malachite Molly—and a few of her Battle Dwarves stomping down the lane. Crumble was there, too, already looking apologetic for her behavior.
“Sheriff! Where’s my husband’s killer? I want answers!” Aramina was in a snit.
“We’re doing everything in our power, Mrs. Wump,” tried Forgo, but the Dwarf cut him off.
“I don’t want excuses—I want his head or his feet or whatever part of him you catch. Even better if the weasel’s alive, then I can take care of him myself.”
“That’s not allowed in Thimble Down—I’m the law here and I will see that justice is made.”
“We’ll see about that, Sheriff. If I catch ’im, I’ll deal with him the Dwarf way!” For effect, she pulled a large dagger out of her belt and grinned.
Crumble jumped in, “She will, you know. Aramina doesn’t give a hoot for Halfling laws; she lives and fights on the frontiers with her own rules, so I would suggest you find the murderer soon or she will find him for you. And I might have to help her—he was my brother after all.”
Crumble gave Dorro an imploring look, as if trying to get him to urge Forgo along faster. They both knew the sooner they found the murderer, the less chance blood would again flow in Thimble Down.