Telés the Baker

Telés handed out brown paper sacks loaded with treats, breads and a few forged documents to those who wanted to flee the city. They all thanked him profusely as they each reached out and took their bag then dropped Dimadra coins into Telés' waiting hand. When the exchange was complete, they practically fled the shop. He watched them dash out, a knot forming in his gut. The people of Vashor were once known for their cheerful and carefree spirit like their homeland; a vast landmass of sprawling jungles, mountains and beautiful seasides. Now they were a people of fear and shame.

Rumors of the underground being stormed was confirmed a few nights ago. The rebel leaders were scrambling getting their resistance army in place, preparing for a fight. Telés longed to help the rebellion more but he lacked any abilities that were essential to join the thick of battle and espionage work: Kradashma powers. Those with the mixed bloodline of the Nytra in their veins, a race of legendary beings, inherited amazing abilities. Making them almost invincible.

Telés on the other hand was a plain Vashorian civilian, recruited to forge important documents in his bakery.

The City of Pahalla has the largest port in Vashor, making it the easiest accessible location for the massive Chawong warships to dock. No matter how hard they fought, another shipload of soldiers seemed to always appear.

Juanesilla called out from the back. Telés turned, leaving the front counter. He stepped through the archway and made his way to the table in the center of the kitchen. Juanesilla stood by the back door as she tossed her long silvery-black braid over her shoulder. She was old enough to be Telés' mother. At points she acted like it. He ran his hand through his cropped hair which was black with flecks of silvery gray throughout, a common color for Vashorian people.

A sad smile settled on Juanesilla's face. “My sons and their families left a little bit ago.” Telés could understand. Some families were leaving the city, wanting to wait it out in a nearby village in the jungle. He and Juanesilla, decided to stay behind and help wherever they could.

#

Telés and Juanesilla fiercely worked on baking and packaging rolls. They didn't know how long the fighting would go on, but the fighters would need food to keep their energy up. The soft chime of bells hitting the door sounded from the front. He looked up.

“I'll be with you in a moment!” Telés called out using a wet cloth to remove the sticky dough from his hands and made his way into the shop.

A Chawong soldier stood at the counter, his back towards Telés. As Telés let his dark gray eyes casually sweep across the small space, his heart began to pound against his ribs. No other soldiers stood inside or outside. That was a good sign. He let his eyes settle on the customer who

slowly turned. The soldier's light brown eyes were set in a cold stare that sent a chill down Telés spine. Soozo, one of the most ruthless soldiers in the empire.

“What can I get you sir?” Telés smiled, smoothing out his apron with trembling hands. He let them drop to his sides. The door opened again, and someone slipped in and padded to the corner.

“I heard this bakery is the best one on Hinhilka Street.” Soozo paused, then withdrew a slip of paper from his breast pocket saying, “I need you to make Misuwátkiso for me.”

Telés silently took the folded-up paper, opened and inspected it. It was written in Chawong script. The baker licked his lips. He only knew enough to get by, not to read a recipe! “Ah, sir. We aren't equipped to translate.”

“Why not?” Soozo's expression didn't change but his hand ever so slightly slipped to a sword that dangled from his belt strap. He rested his fingers on the pommel. Telés forced his smile to remain on his face. Stay calm, he instructed himself. This wasn't a time to get killed over food.

“But for you, it won't be a problem,” Telés exclaimed, smoothing the paper out on the wooden surface. He took down Soozo's address and time he wanted it, he froze.

“You want it this evening?”

“Yes. I am hosting a special dinner tonight. People of high rank will be there. If things go well, I may get promoted.” Soozo's eyes went from a cold stare to fierce focus, as if whatever he saw in his mind's eye was before him, waiting to be grasped. His fingers resting on the pommel slipped down and gripped the handle firmly until the knuckles shown white. Sweat began to prickle Telés skin. Soozo was known for his terrifying use of the sword. He wasn't shy to use it, even on innocent bystanders. Telés quickly gathered his thoughts then cleared his throat.

“At Telés' bread and pastry shop, we do our best to satisfy our customers and in this case we will do our best to make your cake special, sir. It shall be ready by seven this evening.”

Soozo stared at Telés a moment longer then without a word, placed the money on the counter for the order. His boots clicked as he turned and marched out. As the door slammed behind him, Telés watched until the soldier disappeared around the corner before inhaling deeply; letting his breath slowly out; wiping sweat from his forehead. He turned his attention towards the corner where the second customer resided.

Yochen, a scrawny young man, scrubbed his slender fingers through his thick black-gray hair as he leaned against the wall. His face was etched with worry. He looked at Telés as he pushed off then stepped forward, eyes fixed on him.

“What's the news?” Telés gently inquired. Yochen was a runner and he possessed the Kradashma ability of retaining knowledge, whatever he heard he could remember every word that was spoken. He spent most of his time roaming the streets or loitering in doorways snatching any helpful information he could find then reporting it to the proper chain of command. He barely was a man yet he was able to aid the rebels more than Telés could. Yochen closed the distance to the counter, dropping his hand from his head then shoving both into his pockets.

“Telés,” Yochen swallowed. The kid looked spooked. That wasn't a good sign. “I shouldn't be telling you this, but you're the closet personnel in the area who isn't busy at the moment.” Telés' cheeks flushed as he felt a ping of shame at the remark. Yochen paused, glancing around as if checking to make sure no one was listening, then settled his eyes back on Telés and continued. “Baomali told me that he found a way to take out the naval fleet!”

Telés smiled. “That's good news, but why are you worried.” He asked lowering his voice.

Yochen leaned forward and said, “I over heard Soozo before he came into the shop discussing with a group of soldiers that he knows that Baomali is a traitor and he plans to expose him at his party tonight.” He paused, “the one you're making the dessert for.”

“Merciful Renla-Zalzo!” Telés said, alarmed. Baomali was a Chawong man who joined the rebellion many years ago. Serving in the Chawong army gave him plenty of information and supplies to smuggle to the underground. Along with having a Kradashma ability, he was one of their best moles.

Telés blinked a few times, his mouth dry as the oven. When he finally worked enough moisture in his mouth, he simply said, “Thank you, Yochen.”

The young runner turned and looked outside. The sun still shone, but a few dark clouds began to gather. Telés motioned for the young man to follow him into the back, taking a slab of a sweet confection from the case.He handed it to Yochen who took it gratefully. Juanesilla turned from the oven as Telés and Yochen entered.

“Was that Soozo?” She asked in a halting voice. Telés nodding. The older woman squeezed her eyes shut and leaned against the counter next to the oven, her lips moving in silent prayer.

Telés walked over, then laid the paper onto the table. Yochen was close at his heels. Juanesilla opened then narrowed her eyes at the young runner.

“Shouldn't you be scampering off somewhere?”

Yochen swallowed his mouthful then said while gesturing to the paper,“Yes, but we have some serious matters at hand.”

She sniffed then peered down at the paper. Her eyebrows shot up towards the ceiling as she looked at Telés.

“I can't read a word of Chawongisen. You know that!”

“It's a recipe.” Telés explained. She straightened, furrowing her brow. He shared what Yochen told him earlier. The woman's face fell.

“This may be the battle that decides our fate.” Juanesilla whispered. Telés rubbed his face. He felt helpless, he knew he could do so much more than make desserts and forge papers. This seemed like the time to prove that. Yochen swallowed loudly.

The Chawong empire invaded twenty years ago, stripping away as much Vashorian culture as possible casting the nation into a state of fear, despair, and hopelessness. But those who refused to surrender formed the rebellion.

“We need to warn Baomali.” Telés stated lowering his hand from his face and placed it on the table next to the recipe.

“Telés,” Juanesilla said, confusion spreading on her face, “You're a baker. How can you possibly warn Baomali, a trained spy?” She had a point.

“I'm aware of that but I'm sure the rebel leaders have their hands full with preparing for the attack. Yochen, would you be able to warn him? Once you do return to my shop then you and Juanesilla can go to headquarters.”

“Sure, and I can translate the recipe for you.” Yochen remarked. Telés motioned him to the office.

#

It took the young runner some time, but he was able to write the recipe out in Vashorian. Juanesilla, Telés, and Yochen stood over the fresh slip of paper. All eyes on the black lettering.

“We have all the ingredients for the actual cake. This is quite simple.” Telés sighed. At least that part was easy. The hard part now was warning Baomali. This could be his chance to prove that a simple baker can contribute to the larger scheme of things.

“Juanesilla, I need you to run to the market and purchase some fruits while I bake the cake. Yochen, good luck.” Telés instructed Juanesilla and gave Yochen a pat on the shoulder.

He would work on Baomali's papers. Baomali couldn't stay in Vashor, he would have to seek refuge in the neighboring nation of Inmunnet or sail west to Vianva. The empire would hunt him down like a rat if he stayed. His stomach pulled itself into knots. Hopefully they could carry all that out before the raids and fighting started.

Yochen slipped out the front door, while Juanesilla ducked through the back. Telés gathered all the bowls, ingredients, and utensils he needed to make Misuwátkiso.

#

He transferred the thick batter into one large circular pan as the recipe explained then opened the oven door. The heat washed over him, making his eyes water as he slid the pan into the oven, then closed the metal door. Glancing up at the clock above the archway to the main shop. He noted the time: Nine thirty-two.

Entering his office, Teles worked on Baomali's documents, cleaned out other important paperwork that could be burned, and stashed forging tools in the garbage pails by the back door. He needed to be prepared for a raid. The old district which his shop resided in was notorious for soldiers randomly storming a business and tearing it apart looking for rebels. He knew it was probably going to follow close on the heels of the underground attack. If what Baomali found was something that could bring down the Chawong naval fleet, he at that moment was the most valuable person in the city.

#

Juanesilla returned just as Telés was taking the cake out of the oven. Setting the cake on the counter he began tossing what documents he could burn into the flames, adding the scent of burning paper to the cake to the room.

“Everyone's going mad! Dashing about, soldiers grabbing people. I barely escaped.” she huffed, grabbing a stool from the corner and setting it down beside the table. She lowered herself upon it letting out a sigh as she settled. Telés pressed his lips together forming a thin line.

“Yochen hasn't returned yet. I hope he's alright.” Telés said. He handed her Baomali's documents, “Hold on to these for me.”

Juanesilla nodded, folding up the bundle of paper and sticking it in a pouch tied to her waist. Telés turned and went to the front door. Screams, shouts, and the loud crack of rifle fire filled Telés' ears as he yanked the door open. People ran in all directions, soldiers seizing people and throwing them onto wagons. Most people in the old district were involved in the resistance. It seemed the Chawong's finally caught on and were rounding up anyone in sight. Rain poured in sheets, quickly formed puddles that caused poor souls to slip. He strained his eyes, hoping to catch a glimpse of Yochen. The military office buildings weren't far off.

Something must have gone wrong. Telés took a step outside and turned his head. Yochen walked briskly towards him from the opposite direction, a determined expression on his face as a group of soldiers were close on his heels. One of the soldiers yell for Yochen to halt, he continued forward. With the sound of a loud crack Yochen stumbled forward, eyes wide.

Telés watched it all in silent horror. He continues to stumble forward until he collides with Telés and they fell to the floor from the force of the injured man. He scrambles from underneath the bloodied and wet man.

“Yochen, you poor lad!” Telés groaned.

The boy knew that if you are followed you avoid meeting with others at all cost. Blood freely flowed from a gaping back wound below his right shoulder blade.

“I found him!” Yochen gurgled.

Telés' face blanched at the sight of the wound as he gently turned Yochen onto his back. Blood flowed from his mouth. More shots rang out. One of the large shop windows shattered. Telés grits his teeth. He sent the boy to his death. He leaned over Yochen's face as sharp glass showered all around them.

“His on Milhallick Street,”

Yochen coughed his voice growing weaker, “I, couldn't warn him. To many soldiers,” Milhallick was six blocks away. So close.

Telés straightened.

Yochen was gone.

A weight seemed to bear down onto his chest. Why did he send Yochen on that errand? He should have sent him to command, they would have known what to do. The soldiers slapping footsteps through large puddles advanced until a group of soldiers crowded around Telés' door-way, rifles with sharp bayonets pointed at Telés' heaving chest while others poured into the shop like ants descending on a morsel of food. The leader of them, a lieutenant, stepped forward, a wicked sneer on his face.

“Who are you? Why did he flee to your shop!”

The lieutenant screamed, his voice seeping rage like the sky pouring water from the heavens. It was only a matter of time before he let his rage gush into action. Telés slowly raised his hands in a submissive gesture as he quietly said,

“I'm just a baker and he was a loyal costumer. That's it.” Telés spoke as gently and calmly as possible though his heart pounded against his ribs like a panicked bird desperate to flee the hunters.

Juanesilla yelled out as the other soldiers entered the kitchen. A few moments later she was dragged into view. She gasped seeing Yochen's lifeless body and covered her mouth with her hands. Telés slightly turned his head towards the lieutenant,

“She works for me.”

The lieutenant glared at him, then Juanesilla,

“Why was he on Milhallick street? Don't lie to me!”

Telés paused a moment looking down at Yochen's lifeless body. It seemed saying part of the truth wouldn't hurt.

“He was looking for Captain Baomali. We wanted to supply him and his men with something to eat since they're so close to my shop. I am working on a cake for Major Soozo, so I couldn't go out myself.” He glanced up at the soldier. The lieutenant's demeanor changed, from rage to shock. He stood there a moment opening his mouth then closing it. Finally he spoke. His voice a little less harsh.

“Fine. I'll leave some of my men here to guard your shop. We don't want the Major to lose his baker, do we? If you do try and leave I can't guarantee your life would be spared.”

He motioned for his men to lower their guns then stepped out, instructing a squad of them to stay behind. In moments, the large force left leaving half a dozen sodden soldiers behind. Outside the carnage and chaos continued.

Telés turned towards Juanesilla, tears flowing freely down her wrinkled cheeks. Telés rose to his feet and hugged the old woman. She had known Yochen since he was a babe.

#

They couldn't grieve Yochen for very long. Too much was at stake. Later, they would have more losses to grieve than desired but at that moment they needed to warn Baomali. After moving Yochen to the corner of the shop and draping a cloth over his body, Telés and Juanesilla retreated to the kitchen while the soldiers stood on guard outside.

“It appears we can't leave the shop. If we do, we'll probably be killed,” Juanesilla sighed, arms crossed over her chest. The fighting was only going to get worse. It was now or never.

“I think I can ask a soldier to escort me to Milhallick,” Telés said rubbing his chin.

“Possibly, but would they?”

“It's worth a try. Juanesilla we have to. It's that or the fall of the rebellion,”

Telés dropped his hand to his side as he stared at Juanesilla. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying. Telés couldn't give up, Yochen gave his life for this. He had to try. He took a deep breath, exhaled, then marched to the front door and opened it. The soldiers were facing out. The skirmish seemed to have moved down another street, what was left behind was enough blood and mangled bodies to turn Telés' stomach. The soldiers turned and looked at him with suspicious eyes.

“I told your lieutenant that I needed to get to Milhallick Street. I want to supply him and his men with some food,” he paused, “I have something for you gentlemen as well,” Telés added.

Including them in the generous offer may cause them to be less suspicious. Hopefully. They gave each other long looks then turned towards Telés. Greed appeared on their faces. One of them thanked Telés and offered to take him. Telés thanked them profusely, stepping back into the shop. He gathered the sweetest pastries from the bakery display case, then distributed them among the soldiers who took them like ravenous wolves. Telés and Juanesilla put together a large basket of the remaining pastries in the shop. They had no reason to stay open since no one else would likely enter the shop that day.

#

As they walked down a narrow alley, the soldier who volunteered to escort him barked,

“I don't plan on dying for a baker, so you better stay close.”

Telés didn't plan to die either.

The sharp crack of rifle fire echoed off buildings as the rain continued to pour. Telés clung to the basket hoping the cloth draped over the opening would shield the treats from the elements. It didn't take them long to reach Milhallick. The shops on either side were dark, the windows boarded and doors locked up. Further down the street a cluster of soldiers knelt or stood, rifles pressed to shoulders as they fired their weapons down another Street. There were a great many soldiers pressing forward trying to get into the fight.

The man leading Telés stopped, then gestured to the company before them. Telés stared at the soldier a moment, his face drained of color. Did he really expect him to walk up to a group of soldiers in the midst of battle and declare it was time for treats? How was he to reach Baomali like this? For a moment he felt like an idiot. How was this going to work? The soldier next to him let out an exasperated sigh then stomped forward. A young soldier in the back of the group turned. When both soldiers were close enough they exchanged a few words, stealing quick glances in Telés' direction who stood awkwardly in the street. A moment later the soldier came back.

“You are to leave the basket over there-” he pointed to an archway just behind the shuffling mass where gear was piled up, “-they'll get to it when they have a chance.”

Telés thanked him, squared his shoulders then proceeded in a crouch. A bullet ricocheted off the cobbled stones somewhere behind him causing him to jerk forward with a start.

When he reached the doorway he set the basket down, turned and looked up. Baomali's giant figure stood pressed against the wall. Sword in hand he played his part well as he barked commands to his subordinates with blood thirsty authority. Telés stepped forward. If only the captain would look in his direction, maybe he could indicate with his eyes that Telés had dire news to share. He stood there, it seemed like hours, eyes locked on Baomali as he moved with the ebb and flow of the battle, his black hair plastered to his head; dripping water into his fierce eyes when for a split second his head swiveled and their eyes locked.

Telés' eyes widened, his face pleading. A perplexed expression came over Baomali's wet face. He glanced at the battle front than Telés again. A look of dawning realization followed.

His sword lowered slightly.

Everything erupted into chaos.

Baomali's men were pushed back as the allied fighters broke through. Bullets whizzed past, one grazed Telés temple as he scrambled back to the alley from where he came. The soldier who led him there roughly grabbed his shirt front and yanked him into the narrow alley. In moments the street was like the ocean during a terrible storm. Screams of pain mingled with rifle fire and other sounds of battle poured into the alleyway where Telés crouched. The scent of the pouring rain didn't do much to mask the acrid smell of gun powder, blood, and sweaty bodies.

“Come on you fool!” Telés' escort coarsely barked tugging the baker along. Telés straightened and stood there a moment longer, watching the horrible scene play out. He lost track of where Baomali went, hopefully the man was still alive. Maybe his Kradashma ability would save him. After a moment he followed the desperate soldier back to the bakery.

#

“It's almost time.” Juanesilla said glancing at the clock as she helped Telés put the cake into a box. The dessert glistened with a simple honey glaze topped with candied fruit of varying hues making the cake appear like a still ocean at sunset. The soldiers standing outside called for Telés to hurry up. They were to escort him to Soozo's house.

“You look like a butcher,” Juanesilla grimaced plucking at Telés white apron stained with Yochen's blood. He didn't realize he still wore it. He quickly removed it. His simple cream colored blouse and gray trousers were clean. Wet but clean.

“You hold onto his papers,”

Telés explained picking up the box. “Meet us on Bearings Street. After that we can go to headquarters.” They received information that the rebel headquarters was moved to the northwest side of town while the party was in the south side.

“Alright. Don't do anything foolish. You are only a baker after all.”

Juanesilla said, raising an eyebrow as she picked up her shawl and the basket full of rolls they baked earlier. They walked to the front door. Telés slowly shook his head. Joining the rebellion he had no choice but to become a forger. He liked it at first, a chance to stay in a somewhat safer place. Trying to create normalcy in the madness of a ruthless empire. As the years went by though he wanted to do more. Not just sit by and watch as others fought and died. At this moment he had another choice; to step into the realm of espionage and rescuing personnel in dangerous situations. Something out of his element. Something he longed for.

As soon as Telés stepped out of the shop the soldiers came along side and behind him, their faces stony. Most likely they wanted to be done with him so they could join up with their troop again and not be stuck escorting a baker. He stole a glance back. Juanesilla slipped out of the shop and quickly retreated down a side alley.

The rain finally stopped revealing a glimpse of a stunning sunset through the clouds. The uneven cobbled streets formed islands among large puddles, casing the road to appear like a vast sea, forcing Telés and the soldiers to splash through deep puddles that sometimes went up to their ankles soaking their boots and pant legs. At the sound of shots, they forced Telés against a wall to check around the corner or made him crouch as they scanned the surroundings.

After countless turns down alleys, roads, and cautious march through court yards they made it to Soozo's house. It was located in the Chawong district, further inland. The buildings were made of dark wood imported from their homeland and tiled slanted roofs that gleamed with water in the fading light. No one was around to light the streetlamps, sending the city into a rapid decline into darkness.

Soozo had a lamp suspended by a hook beside the door allowing guests to see as a few climbed the short flight of stairs then entered the house. Laughter and music filtered from the windows. A harsh contrast to the distant rumblings of gun fire and screams. Telés climbed the stairs then knocked. He looked back. Without a word the soldiers had retreated into the night leaving Telés alone. He turned to face the door just as a servant opened it. Telés explained who he was. The simple clad housekeeper led him in.

The interior was lavishly decorated with figurines of different beasts slaying other creatures or paintings of soldiers in the heat of battle. The new electric lights chased every shadow away, leaving the halls and rooms in brilliant light. They stepped into a large room. It was filled with men and women. Laughter and quiet conversations rolled across the polished wood floors. Telés stood there a moment overwhelmed by the task at hand. He scanned for Baomali but every man was clad in a uniform. Baomali would be a drop in the ocean.

“Aw, finally!”

Soozo said, appearing before Telés. The baker stood a moment then noticed a fine table to the side of the room that was bare. On another table beside that one, forks and plates perched. Soozo motioned for him to place the cake on the bare one. As Telés worked Soozo turned and faced the crowd of people, then in a commanding voice that subdued all other conversation he said,

“Welcome, my fellow comrades. We celebrate a glorious victory. Tonight, the rebels will be no more. As we speak the remaining filth are being hunted and exterminated.” A loud applause and cheers followed by the sprinkled shouts of,

“Praise to the empire!”

Soozo motioned for everyone to settle down.

“In commemoration of this event, I have Misuwátkiso.” Soozo beamed, stepping to the side and sweeping his arm out wide towards the table. Telés shifted to the side lowering his eyes to the floor as the partygoers let out low tones of awe and praise. In the light the dessert seemed to glow.

“Baker, if you will.”

Soozo indicated to Telés who began serving the guests. The music which had stopped began again in a great swell of emotion as conversation erupted back to life. A few servants appeared and began taking the slices of cake to guests as Telés cut and dropped the slabs of confection on the fine plates. Sweat began to trickle down his back as his hands trembled slightly which he desperately tried to suppress. He heard countless stories from rebel spies share their daring missions being surrounded by Chawong soldiers and how they narrowly escaped. Telés had to admit to himself that he didn't plan for this moment. How was he to warn Baomali and escape? He mentally kicked himself as a servant took a plate. Should he ask to give Baomali's slice to him personally? That would cause great suspicion. Should he go out and try and find him? No, Vashorians weren't allowed to mingle with Chawongs, especially at a high function like this.

Ideas kept rolling around in Telés brain leaving him unaware of a soldier briskly walking towards him. As Telés turned to hand a plate to a waiting servant the soldier collided into Telés' arm. He watched in horror as the cake slice pressed into the soldier's chest, smearing the sticky dessert all over his crisp uniform. Before he could stutter an apology, the man slapped him across the face. Lights exploded across his vision. He stumbled to the side, a few people laughed. He reached out to steady himself when a hand closed around the back of his neck. He was whisked out of the room. His eyes swam making it difficult to know where he was going. They turned a few times then entered another large room that blasted him with all sorts of scents and heat, the kitchen.

“Get out!”

the soldier screamed as he shoved Telés to the tiled floor. The cooks and other kitchen staff scurried out the back door leaving Telés and the soldier alone. Telés slowly looked up.

It was Baomali.

For a moment confusion washed over him. Why would he treat him like that? Unless. . . The towering soldier's face was pulled into a scowl as he glanced around then knelt and roughly yanked Telés to his feet.

“You disgusting creature, I should beat you within an inch of your miserable life. Do you know how much this uniform cost?”

Baomali yelled into Telés' face causing him to grimace as spittle went flying. He paused, as if listening then released Telés' shirt front. He took a few steps back, Telés face began to swell where he was struck and throb with every beat his racing heart took. Before his eyes Baomali changed from an infuriated soldier to a calm and collected gentlemen.

“Sorry about that. It was the only way I could think to get you out of there.”

Telés blinked. That was better than any of his ideas.

“So,” Baomali continued moving closer to Telés until they were mere inches from each other, “What did you want to tell me?”

Telés licked his lips. “Sir, I received word from Yochen that Soozo plans to expose you, tonight.”

Baomali slowly nodded his head in understanding. “I'm not surprised, I knew this day was coming.” He paused, “why didn't Yochen warn me earlier when I saw him?” Baomali demanded, his voice was surprisingly calm but at the edges tension crept in.

“He didn't know about it then. When he went to warn you he was followed, and killed.”

Telés said. He felt a lump in his throat just thinking about the poor young man. Baomali wiped his forehead, his light brown eyes focused on Telés. They brimmed with many emotions Telés couldn't put his finger on. He dropped his hand.

“I have to get the plans to headquarters, you will have to help me.”

“Yes, I already expected that,”

“Good, because it might cost you your life.” Baomali walked to the door that led to the hall, checking to see if anyone was around, then to the other door that led outside. He quickly returned.

“The plans are upstairs. I was on my way to get them when you arrived. Once I retrieve them I just need a way to get out. Thankfully it stopped raining. If I don't get wet, I should be able to escape without a scratch. You leave first, act humiliated, no one will take a second glance at you. Wait across the street in the alleyway. I should be out in a few minutes. Go!”

Baomali hissed the last word giving Telés a shove. The Baker took a few stumbling steps, then did as Baomali instructed. He hung his head and put on the most humiliated expression he could muster. In all honesty it didn't take much since being slapped and dragged to the kitchen was shameful, like being treated as a child who misbehaved. He shuffled down the hall, head bowed when someone appeared in his peripheral vision. He looked up. Soozo. His body was rigid, a glower on his face.

“Where is Major Baomali - the man who dragged you away, you fool!” Soozo snarled impatiently, his hand gripping his sword hilt. Telés swallowed.

“I'm not sure, after he beat me he muttered about cleaning his uniform.” He at least spoke the truth about not knowing where he went. Soozo continued to glare.

“That man is making me look like a fool. I have no need for you, get out!”

Soozo stormed past Telés. Should he stall Soozo or continue with what Baomali instructed him? He decided on the latter, fleeing the house.

#

Telés crouched in the deep shadows of the narrow alley. The heat of the day turned into a warm muggy night causing Telés to sweat, his shirt soaked through. The road glistened in the moonlight, large puddles still scattered the uneven street. He rubbed his swollen cheek which probably started to change colors. His main concern was Baomali. The minutes seemed to stretch into hours. The distant rumbling of rifle fire continued setting him on edge. Should he go back? If he did, Soozo would probably suspect that he and Baomali were in league, then kill them both. Telés grimaced. Maybe he wasn't cut out for this side of rebel work. Maybe he was better off working in his bakery forging documents and making sweets.

A window shattered. Telés started, looking up sharply. The crack of a rifle followed as the dark silhouette of a man tumbling down the roof followed. A second later he went air born then splashed into a puddle. Telés stood there a moment, shocked and horrified. He glanced up again. Soldiers were pointing below before vanishing back inside. A groan issued from the man as he stirred. Telés rushed to his side.

“That took longer than I expected.” Baomali grunted pushing himself up. His uniform was soaked through. That wasn't good.

“Are you alright? Can you walk?”

Telés asked glancing at the house. Soldiers would be pouring out any minute. Baomali, with the help of Telés, climbed to his feet. He clutched his left side. He took a step with his left leg then almost collapsed letting out a curse.

“If it wasn't for the puddle I could have walked away from that.”

Telés heard from the underground that Baomali's Kradashma ability weakness was water. Once it touched his skin he became like any other man, susceptible to injury and death.

“We can't stay here, come on!”

Telés practically dragged the soldier down the alleyway he stood in just moments before. They ducked into another alley after a few feet. Soon shouts followed and boots slapped the paving stones. Telés panted, he wasn't use to carrying such a load! Baomali breathed heavily, clutching his side and favoring his injured leg.

“I think I broke a couple ribs, and my leg. I'm not sure if I can make it.”

“No, I won't leave you.” Telés thought of Yochen, eyes wide as he was shot. He couldn't let the same thing happen to Baomali. He wouldn't.

#

They made their way towards Bearings Street. From Soozo's house it was roughly five miles. It seemed hours as they weaved in and out of alleyways and court yards trying to avoid main thoroughfares where marching patrols prowled. The fighting in the streets seemed to have moved further towards the water front to the east. That wasn't good. The soldiers could either push them into the sea or blast them to bits with the cannons on their ships. Both men were drenched in sweat, Baomali leaned more and more on Telés putting a strain on his back and shoulders. The muscles in his arms ached terribly trying to support the injured soldier. Yells erupted behind them.

“I think they found us.”

Baomali grunted. The injured man let out a frustrated breath. They were two streets away from their destination. Telés didn't think they would follow them this far. They were close to the headquarters, they couldn't risk exposing the whole underground. Telés stopped.

“What – why'd you stop?” Baomali whispered. Telés knew they couldn't continue forward like this, he had to do something. He turned towards an alcove hidden in shadow underneath a stairway to a bridge.

“You can't be captured, the information you carry is to important.”

“Then you take it, deliver it to command.”

Baomali quietly pleaded, his voice strained. His breathing was more labored, at each step he let out a pain- filled grunt that was on the verge of a cry.

“No,”

Telés snapped lowering Baomali to the ground in the narrow space. He was swallowed up by the darkness, like a rock dropped into the ocean being consumed by the waves. He quickly turned leaving Baomali who fell silent. Telés slowly made his way to the far side of the road then retraced his steps moving out of the street and stepping down another so as to distance himself from Baomali and Milhallick Street. The moon's silvery light made the puddles of water in the road seem like dark mysterious pools.

“You there, stop!”

A voice rang out followed by running feet. Telés turned, his heart pounding a wild dance that only fear knew how to conjure. A unit of soldiers came charging down the road. They quickly surrounded Telés, rifles fitted with bayonets that gleamed wickedly in the pale light.

“We meet again,”

Soozo remarked stepping into the circle. His features were hidden in shadow except for his eyes which held a glint of rage. “I was told that you wanted to supply Captain Baomali with pastries earlier, then you bring a cake the same night I planned to expose -” he faltered as if not wanting to reveal his plans to Telés. Telés clenched his trembling fists in his pockets as perspiration dripped into his eyes, stinging them. “We'll get the truth from you.”

Soozo snapped drawing his sword. Telés let out a strangled gasp.

“Where did he go?” Soozo said holding his sword at his side.

“I don't know, what you are talking about. I'm headed home.” Telés stammered.

With a flash the blade came up and sliced his left arm. The stinging bite was so sudden Telés didn't feel anything at first then it felt like a thousand bees and the wound began to sting as blood oozed out.

“Where. Did. He. Go!” Soozo demanded again. Telés clamped his mouth shut. The blade moved again, this time it sliced a gash along his cheek and ear. The agony washed over him. He cried out reaching his right hand to his face. “You won't speak? Fine. Men, you know what to do.” Soozo's voice was a quiet fury. The soldiers descended on him. They kicked, punched and jabbed him with their bayonets.

Telés collapsed to the ground curling up, trying to protect himself. It was pointless. It seemed they would never stop, and that the only way this nightmare would end was to die. He began to lose consciousness when it ceased.

“He doesn't know anything. Leave him to die, it's what he deserves.” The distant sound of Soozo's voice fluttered over his breaking awareness, then nothing.

#

“Telés,”

someone called his name. He cracked an eye open which was hard to do as it was almost swollen shut. Night still clothed the world. His head rested in a pool of water, his hair soaked. Baomali knelt over him, a relieved smile crossed his strained face. “For a moment I thought you were dead.”

“Me too.” Telés croaked.

His throat was cracked and raw. He blinked a few times, his other eye was swollen shut for sure. He slowly sat up but with the motion every inch of his flesh screamed in agony. He was covered in nicks, gashes, and bruises. Dried blood caked his clothing. He felt exhausted.

“I think Soozo and his soldiers went to the water front.”

Baomali quickly explained. Telés was only out a few moments. Moments that were precious in the rebel resistance. Telés climbed to his feet along with Baomali, then, leaning on each other for support they staggered their way to Bearings Street.

The rest of the way was clear of any soldiers, though the continued crack of rifles sounded in the distance. Both men were on the verge of collapsing. They rounded a corner onto Bearing Street. Juanesilla knelt just in the mouth of an alleyway a little ways down the broad roadway, hands pressed together as she glanced around. A large man stood beside her with a mustache that draped along either side of his mouth. When her eyes settled on them relief flooded her face which quickly melted into concern as she got a better look at them in the moonlight. She, along with the mustached man, rushed over.

“Oh Merciful Renla-Zalzo, what happened!”

Juanesilla gasped covering her mouth. The man grimaced looking Baomali then Telés up and down. The mustached man- who seemed to be a doctor - rummaged through a bag he dropped from his shoulder and began tending to Telés.

“I need to get to command,”

Baomali grunted still using Telés as a human crutch. He felt like he was about to break under the strain. “I found it. A way to remove the naval fleet.”

The mustached man stared at the spy a moment, then he finally spoke.

“Juanesilla, call the men over to help. We need to get these men patched up. The battle for Pahalla may finally shift to our favor.”

Telés took in a shaky breath.

“Looks like there's more to you than I thought.” Juanesilla remarked slipping under his good arm while a group of rebel soldiers came over and quickly helped Baomali.

“I'll give Baomali his papers as soon as we get to headquarters.”

Telés thanked her as the mustached man took Telés' other arm. He let out a cry of pain but inside his heart swelled. He contributed in a way he never thought possible. He could have died, like Yochen, but he did something worth giving his life for.

“What's your name?”

The mustached man asked, Telés licked his cracked and bloodied lips,“Telés. I'm a baker and a forger.”

“Not anymore. I'm guessing command may find a different use for you.”

A faint smile creased Telés' battered face as the group disappeared into the night.

In 2021, for the fourth quarter of Writers of the Future I decided to rewrite The Baker, the Mole, and the Cake. I liked the original so much I wanted to submit this second version. My proof readers and critique group enjoyed the original, but expressed it needed something more.

This story stays close to the elements of the first version, with a baker in his shop, a cake and a spy, but I changed a few things too: adding more stakes, pushing our hero outside his comfort zone, and making a more dramatic ending. I hope you enjoy reading it, I sure had fun writing it!