[Child of the 7th Age]

Tonight's game of Candlestones was different from the others. Yet, outwardly, things looked the same. A dozen candles lit the main cavern and cast lean shadows against the wall. By the second round, the guards sat engrossed, their responsibility for the prisoners pushed to the back of their minds. Any misgivings they'd had about Esta were quickly forgotten. They joked and laughed quite naturally while placing bets or arguing who the new champion might be. Only one familiar face, Captain Tarcil, was missing. But few noticed his absence or wondered what it meant.

Even the prisoners who viewed the game gave little indication anything was wrong. They cheered on their favorites or groaned in sympathy when a popular hobbit failed to hit the mark. Azra carried out her duties to perfection. She set up new targets and darted out of reach when competitors stepped up to aim their stones.

Weeks of practice had left a mark. The hobbits hurled their rocks with pinpoint accuracy. Wick after wick lay extinguished. It looked to be a long night.

Yet, behind this carefully cultivated facade, something else was going on. A handful of prisoners slipped outside one at a time, silently making their way towards the tool shed. Most of the weapons had been stored there earlier in the week. These hobbits were careful to use side caverns and tunnels to avoid detection by the guards.

Nitir sat alone towards the back of the room. Her outer face registered polite interest in the games. Underneath was a different story. Her thoughts ranged here and there, as she mulled over what might happen next. One time, Azra had bent over to replace a candle. Nitir had caught a glint of a sword barely concealed under heavy skirts. She'd gone down to the girl and whispered a warning.

Her biggest concern was still Bird. She hadn't seen the neekerbreeker since the night of Esta's death. She hoped nothing had happened to her. Without the dragon, there was little hope of saving the last two hobbits whose names were on the selection list.

Nitir intended to slip out from the games before they ended. She wanted to make sure everyone was awake and organized in their groups. Then, the escorts would await a signal from Loremaster to begin running the children through the gauntlet.

When the third round of competition finally ended, the guards rose from their seats with wild applause. Three victorious hobbits stood in the arena waiting for the next phase to begin. Corby was a familiar figure to the crowd. This time, he was joined by Kima and Mika, two identical twins.

The three looked grimly at each other. They would need to match their game, stroke for stroke, in a show of perfection that would drag the proceedings far into the night. Someday, perhaps, if they were lucky, they'd tell their grandchildren how they created a diversion so the ships and rescuers could draw close to the caves.

Stone by stone, they competed. There were few mistakes. Azra replaced the targets again and again. Finally, the guards had the contestents move back several paces to make their task more difficult. Kima and Mika hurled their rocks with fierce resolve, and near perfection. They saw two wicks flcker and die. Corby shook his head and sighed. His last attempt had missed by just a fraction. Now they were down to two.

[ November 03, 2002: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]