by Guy Antibes
Boxster rode on his left, and Breda was on the other side of Boxster with a trio of the squad laughing and telling dirty jokes to each other far enough behind to stay out of Breda’s hearing. She was just far enough away from him that he didn’t have to listen to her constant chatter. Boxster, on the other hand, had to listen to the woman going on and on.
Trevor had thought she was tough, which she was, but the woman liked to talk. Boxster nodded in the right places and made the occasional comment, but his friend was a more patient person than Trevor had realized. Corey rode over from his part of the squad, which rode a few hundred yards to their left.
“Time to get the maps out,” Corey said. “You have a pencil?”
“I even have a writing board,” Boxster said, pulling it out of one of his bags. Boxster had taken the writing board from an empty wooden crate in the back of the weapon’s tent, but he didn’t tell Corey that.
“Good for you. I’ll take that.”
Boxster didn’t tell Corey that there were two of those in his bag.
“Keep your eyes sharp. There could be Viksaran soldiers around or even West Moreton scouts. It would be a shame to have to fight our own.”
“Yes, it would,” Boxster said.
Trevor winced. They had just come from Presidon, where his father had created a fake army to fight against the Presidon royal army. All he could think of was the waste of life and expense the ploy caused.
Boxster didn’t pursue the conversation, and Corey nodded and headed back to his group.
“Loosen your weapons before we enter the forest,” Boxster said. “The border is only a few miles inside. It’s our job to make sure this map is accurate.”
They reached the few low bushes that grew at the edge of the forest before they entered. Instantly, the air seemed very still and more humid. Sounds seemed closer, and the light dimmed just a bit. Trevor was used to the feeling, having spent weeks and weeks at Red Forest Garrison, but a few of the mercenaries seemed uncomfortable, including Breda, who went silent. Trevor was sure Boxster was happy about that.
Boxster gathered everyone, stopping while the grass plain could still be seen through the trees. Corey Crackle had taken an entry point a half mile further south.
“Keep your eyes open and don’t fall asleep. We will be checking out the map. In a bit, we will break into twos and spread out, looking for other paths, springs, clearings, and bogs. This area might well be a battleground sooner than we think.”
Boxster assigned Trevor to himself, contrary to what the visibly disappointed Breda expected. The group split up into three pairs and headed farther into the wood. Boxster and Trevor took the middle route so both pairs could report what they saw more easily.
“Ah, peace at last,” Boxster said.
“Breda?” Trevor asked.
The ex-master sergeant nodded and didn’t say anything more about his ride from the camp.
“There is a spring over there,” Trevor said, seeing a glint of the sun reflected off water to his right.
They rode to the spring, which was at the edge of a good-sized meadow. The place was too marshy for a camp, but the spring ran clear into a large pond.
“Of course it isn’t on the map,” Boxster said, marking up his copy.
The next hour was more of the same, and when they reached a rock wall, they stopped. The wall was the border, as shown on the map. Boxster waited for the two pairs to meet him. They verified their findings and moved half a mile to their right, farther away from Corey and his four men, to do the same thing heading north and out of the wood.
“This is the boring part of scouting,” Trevor said.
“It is boring,” Boxster said, “but if you know the map, you can get out of here without getting lost if there is a conflict.”
“I agree,” Trevor said. He had been memorizing landmarks as best he could, but the landmarks going in would look different going out, and they would be exiting the forest by different paths.
“Breda,” Boxster said. “You can ride with Trevor. We will mix up the partners.”
Trevor restrained a sigh. He turned to the woman and said, “Let’s go.”
As the six of them rode north, two peeled off from time to time and turned right toward the mercenary camp. Trevor and Breda were on the far north end, with Boxster and his partner in the middle again.
The forest looked the same, but Trevor had his vision focused on what looked different, and he reported those differences to Boxster. A large fallen tree was noted just before an odd rise in the ground. Trevor wondered what had caused that. It was flat enough to pitch his tent on top of the mound. There were more springs, streams, and small lakes along with trails snaking their way in and out of their pathway.
Trevor looked to his left, north toward Presidon, and saw a moving glint through the trees.
“Another unit,” Trevor said. “Tell Boxster while I investigate.”
Breda nodded and disappeared, heading south through the woods. Trevor found an open pathway through the woods and almost entered a campground filled with soldiers. From their colors, Trevor could see they were Viksaran, and that meant magicians just when Trevor had sent Breda away.
He cinched up his armor and donned his helmet before he looked on as the soldiers talked as if no one was looking in on them. Trevor would have thought they would have sentries out, but he didn’t see one coming in. He backed up to turn away since there was little he could do other than report a unit of Viksarans. It was up to the commander to determine what to do and maybe not even him if there weren’t engagement orders.
Trevor turned away and headed south to find a path to the east and out of the forest. He had separated enough from the camp when an arrow sped past his left shoulder. Trevor bent down over the horse, but he wasn’t the only target. An arrow hit the horse in its flank. It stopped immediately, throwing Trevor off. He rolled in the forest loam, severely denting his armor. The horse neighed and took off to the south, leaving him on his own.
Standing around wasn’t a very good idea, so he began running after his horse. There were shouts behind him, and that made him run faster, but in an easy lope. He had to keep moving to the south in a straight line. If he turned east, the pursuers would catch up to him.
Trevor wished the soldiers behind him would give up, but just when he thought they had done so, he heard more shouts. His breath came in gasps. Those behind had to be winded too.
The strange mound came twenty paces to his right. It was the only place he could hide behind since this part of the forest was dominated by thin, skinny trees, the name of which had suddenly escaped him. He took off to his right, and he could hear shouts that they had spotted him. Trevor reached the other side of the mound and put his hands on his knees. He now doubted hiding behind the mound would do him any good. There was a stick sticking straight out from the mound that Trevor bent as he was about to run.
Groaning came from the mound, and a doorway appeared. Trevor had no idea how it materialized. He had no choice but to go through and try to make a stand. He had to duck down to enter the narrow opening, but as soon as he did, the door closed. The passage was blacker than night. He ran into a stone table, from the shape of it, and when he touched the top, a dim yellow glow began to illuminate the space. It brightened up as he stood still. The light was magic; Trevor was sure of it. He looked around at stone walls that were embellished with a strange design. The ceiling was rough cut like he had expected the whole room to be.
A stone tablet lay on the table. Trevor picked it up and tried to read the writing, but it was in a language he had never learned. Everyone spoke the same language in the world, and that made the tablet even stranger.
Trevor went to the opening of the passage that brought him to the room but didn’t hear anyone joining him in the chamber. The adrenaline that had kept him going had run out, and Trevor’s eyes began to droop. He looked around, and the only suitable place to lay down for a few minutes was the stone table.
Th
e carvings around the side were similar to the writing on the tablet, unintelligible. Trevor sat at the end and then leaned back. The minute his head gently hit the table’s surface, the yellow light went out.
Trevor sat up, bringing the light back on, but then he would nap better without the light, anyway, so he laid back again and closed his eyes to rest.
~
Trevor had no idea how long he had slept, but he had dreamed the room had been filled with an orange gas, covering him as he slept on the hard pallet. A voice spoke to him in a strange language that gradually turned into his own. That brought a laugh, since the dream had been so real.
He felt refreshed enough to venture outside. He would head straight east, the fastest way to exit the wood. When he jumped off the table, the yellow lights came on.
He picked up the stone tablet again, and the words came to him. Trevor laughed. He was still dreaming, and that proved it. The tablet talked of an infusion of knowledge if the magician slipped it into a slot in the table.
Trevor didn’t have anything to lose by following the simple instruction. It was only a dream, anyway. He leaned over and put the tablet into the slot in the exact orientation specified by the writing. A shock went up his hand. He tried to pull it away, but he couldn’t. His head began to buzz as strange words filled it. The words were the spoken version of the writing on the tablet. Formulas and incantations flitted through his mind, finding residence in his brain.
He had no idea how long the transfer lasted, but when it ended, the tablet crumbled under Trevor’s grasp. The room began to quiver, and when Trevor looked through the passage, he saw daylight. Not wanting to be buried under all that rock, he ran out into the fresh air, worried there would be a band of Viksarans ready to pounce. The mound collapsed as soon as he emerged, and it looked more like the ruin he first thought of the place. Trevor shivered at the thought of being buried in the chamber with no hope of rescue.
He was relieved to find that the surrounding forest was empty of Viksarans, and once Trevor found the right bearing, he took off toward the east. He didn’t run very fast but kept to a steady pace that didn’t make his armor clang and clatter too much. Trevor was still a few miles deep in the forest, but the Viksarans must have given up the chase. His jogging turned to a brisk walk, which he maintained until there was brighter light up ahead. Trevor had just about made it to the forest’s edge.
He thought he finally would have the time to process his experience in the mound until a voice shouted in the forest, “There he is!”
At first, Trevor thought it was one of the men in their unit, but then he heard the rest of the sentence. “Get him! We can’t allow the intruder to escape.”
Trevor adjusted his dented helmet and drew his sword as he walked toward the grassland. He could fight better when he could see his opponents, and this forest had too many hiding places for his comfort.
He heard steps long before he should have as he turned at the last minute to face two men. They didn’t wear armor, and they didn’t last long fighting Trevor. An arrow hissed past his cheek. Trevor bent down and crept in the opposite direction from the archer. He didn’t see anything and rose to take a quick look.
A force pushed him back a step, but not down. Magic! Trevor had no defense against that kind of art, so he turned and ran. A stream of fire burst out from his right and engulfed him. The magician grinned as he held out hands from which the fire erupted. Trevor expected to feel the heat, but he didn’t feel a thing. The fire bathed him and then suddenly stopped. The magician had used up his power.
“Finished?” Trevor said, still amazed he was alive, and caught the man after a few steps.
“I didn’t even detect a protection spell,” the man said with amazement as he struggled with Trevor. The man would be dead, but Trevor needed the reason why he wasn’t a charred prince, smoking on the forest floor.
“Dryden watches over me,” Trevor said the first thing in his head.
The magician started to laugh but stopped. His eyes grew as he struggled some more.
“Tell the others to let me go. I’m just a simple soldier checking out the forest just as you are probably doing. I won’t hurt you if you don’t hurt me,” the man said.
“Play false, and it will be the last time you do,” Trevor said. He almost smiled. He had read almost the exact phrase in one of Wynn’s romance novels that he had borrowed when he was much younger.
“I lead the band. You are adept in magic and with a sword. I don’t want to see any more of my men left behind.”
“Then I will be heading out of the forest,” Trevor said. “I hope we don’t meet again.”
“As do I, but war is war. Anything can happen.”
“I agree with that,” Trevor said as he took off at a run out of the forest.
The magician was true to his word, but then Trevor didn’t know how many men had followed Trevor. Once out of the forest, Trevor turned south, hoping to catch up with Boxster and Corey Crackle.
He looked at the forest looming to his right. What had happened in that strange mound? What had happened when the magician bathed him in flames? Did the experience on the stone table turn him into a magician? He would have Breda help him through his strange experience.
After continuing south until the sun was about to set, he came across the central trail that Boxster and he had initially taken. He found a large rock to sit upon, hoping that they hadn’t emerged from the forest already and returned to camp without him.
Trevor heard voices, and Corey showed up with all the others. Breda led his horse. Someone treated the animal’s flank with a white poultice of some kind.
“You engaged with the enemy?” Corey asked. “I don’t imagine Jackwin shot and missed.”
“They are down two among those who chased me, but they couldn’t go on any farther. I didn’t spend any more time observing the Viksarans, though,” Trevor said.
“How many?” Corey asked.
“Fifty to one hundred. I didn’t have the time to count, but there were enough for at least two companies. A scout almost caught me.” Trevor walked over to his mount to check the wound.
“Magic,” Corey said. “I’m surprised they didn’t cook you alive.”
“Lucky me,” Trevor said. “Shouldn’t we be heading to the camp?”
“We should,” Corey said.
That was fine with Trevor. He still had a lot of thinking to do.
Chapter Twenty-Four
~
“I don’t believe you.” Boxster spat out the lousy ale they had just been served.
“I didn’t ask you to,” Trevor said. “I had a strange experience, and I was able to deflect fire.” Trevor shook his head. “I don’t know how I did it; the protection just happened. Now I can’t remember a thing that the tablet shoved in my head.”
“Breda come over here,” Boxster said.
The woman didn’t have a problem with the bad-tasting ale. Everyone according to their own taste, Trevor thought, as long as he didn’t have to taste it.
“Bathe his foot in fire,” Boxster said to Breda.
“Hey!” Trevor tried to protest, but before he could make another move, Breda coated his foot with fire.
She stopped to blink the drunkenness out of her eyes. “Hey, you should be yelling in pain right now.”
“I should already be dead at the hands of the Viksaran magician.” Trevor turned to Boxster. “You just subjected me to a brutal trial, but I passed.”
“That you did,” Boxster said. He eyed Breda. “I learned something else. Watch what you say around drunk magicians. I wasn’t serious, Trevor, but now I’m intensely interested. How did you do that?”
“Nothing,” Trevor said. “I didn’t do a thing. The flames no longer touched me after I left the mound, not that I’ve been burned before, but…” He shrugged his shoulders. “Something strange happened in that mound.”
“You said it collapsed?”
Trevor nodded. “I had to run out before it
became a smaller pile of rubble. I’m sure the tablet and what it put in my head wasn’t a dream, not now, but I can’t recall a word.”
“A strange language?”
Trevor nodded. “I can remember some of the characters.” Trevor wasn’t going to drink any more of the swill that passed for ale in the mess tent, so he dipped his finger in the mug and wrote out three of the strange characters. “Do you recognize those?”
Boxster stared at them as the character began to dry out.
“Do that again,” Breda asked, blinking slowly.
Trevor obliged.
“I’ve seen scribblings like that. The person who taught me magic had a few ancient magic books. I think one of them was written like that. He didn’t know how to read it, but the book was imposing,” Breda said expressively.
“A task for another time,” Boxster said. “If we fight against magicians, I’ll be right behind you.” Boxster looked at Breda. “And you try to remember to keep your mouth shut tomorrow.”
“Me? I know how to stay sober,” she said, stifling a belch.
Trevor hoped so. He was immune to magic fire, but that was it. He hoped Boxster wouldn’t ask Breda to shoot an arrow into him to see if whatever saved him from burning would save him from an archer.
“It is past time I went to sleep,” Trevor said. “You,” he poked Boxster in the chest, “haven’t run half the day along the border.”
Boxster frowned, but Trevor could see the man was almost smiling. “While you slumbered in the bosom of a magician’s chamber.”
“Like no chamber I’ve seen before,” Trevor said. “Anyway, tomorrow is another day, and we might be heading back to fight the Viksarans.”
“No,” Boxster said. “I overheard Crackle arguing with our beloved captain. The commander can’t attack until the West Moreton army is ready, and I happen to agree with that strategy. If we go off on our own—”
“We will be burned and beheaded before the West Moretons can come to our aid.”
Boxster nodded. “Precisely.”
