“It’s called Cranatium. It’s a strong material given only to high ranking Minyades soldiers. Most low-level soldiers have Cheaptinium which, as the name suggests, is not very expensive. Cheaptinium is an alloy containing only a little bit of Cranatium.”
The armor had hollow points on the plating. It had a smooth black finish with a beautiful shine.
“Why are some of the points hollow?”
While helping me wriggle into the leggings, the officer replied, “Don’t worry; unless someone stabs you with pinpoint precision, it won’t make a difference. The points are hollow to keep you light; we use it to fly. Black armor gets too hot in the summer, and no modern-day paint will stick to this metal.”
An outfit was brought out by as the officer stepped back. It appeared to be a robe trimmed in gold that looked very much like a priest’s hood.
“Why do I need this?”
“This your disguise,” said the tailor, showing me how to put it on.
The overhanging robe went down to my ankles and seemed like a cross between expensive magician robes and a dust coat. The clothing was beautiful, and it covered up all the armor and weapons I had.
“The design allows maneuverability while still looking like a magician follower. Magician followers are required to wear the hood always, and during the ceremony of their becoming a magician, the hood is removed. We’ll use this to our advantage. There are other elements to your disguise, as you shall see in a moment,” the tailor added.
She used a makeup kit and covered up the scar on my blue eye. She then balanced a clear lens on her fingertip and moved it towards my natural green eye. Reflexively, I jerked my head back.
“Relax, this is a contact lens. It will make your cat eye look Human. It’s not uncommon to see Humans in Atral. We have operatives ready to be a magician with you. Their disguises are ready as well,” said the tailor.
Three people came out of the door beside the desk. One was a tall, robed male with his hood off. Bat wings protruded from his robe. I now noticed that each robe was decorated with the symbol of Mendaxia falling onto a sword, with blood dripping gold into the design. Two teenagers stood behind the tall male, one Human and the other Minyades. Both had their hoods up.
“Nice to meet you, Salan,” said the operative masquerading as a magician.
He extended his hand, and I shook it. I then shook hands with the teenagers, noticing that the Human was a girl, and the Minyades was a black male. They seemed young. I confronted the 12 council members.
“This disguise might work, but it’s too risky. These teenagers could die.”
“Salan, these are operatives. They are Abundans in training just like you were in Faslow. They have been training since birth, so they will not hinder you. You can rely on them,” said Tora.
Even if that were true, I didn’t want anyone else to get hurt. Not after what happened last time.
I asked, “You two; what are your class and color?”
“I am Class 1 purple,” replied the Human girl.
“And I am a Class 1 yellow,” added the Minyades.
“Long- and short-distance fighters. Good idea. Lower your hoods so I can see your faces.”
The council member on the far right spoke, “Salan, it is not important to-”
I had had enough of this man. This was my operation, not his.
“Shut up! I wasn’t talking to you! Don’t talk over me as if you’ve been on a battlefield! If you want me to do this, I call the shots. Understood?”
“How dare you…do you know who I am?” said the man on the right.
I ignored him and kept talking.
“What are your names? And let me see your faces,” I repeated.
The others looked at the adult magician, and he nodded. They both did as I instructed as the councilman on the right continued to babble.
“My name is Clora,” said the male Minyades.
“And my name is Sara,” said the female.
I confronted the man in magician robes, “Technically, disclosing the full names of operatives is against regulations, Salan, that’s why he’s so angry,” pointing to the still-blithering councilman on the right. “First names can’t hurt, though. My name is Smith. I’ve been an operative for 20-years, and I am not an Abundan.”
“Then what the hell are you doing on this team? It should be just me. If we’re discovered…”
“We won’t be. That’s my job. I’ve disguised myself as practically every race. Even without Abundan powers, I’ve managed to hold my own simply with words. We can’t bring any more than this over the border anyway. A magician has only three followers.”
This man was cool-headed and intelligent. And something more. He commanded respect effortlessly, and his gaze seemed to go right through me. He had that thousand-yard stare you see only in soldiers who have been to hell and are ready to return if necessary.
“Alright, what’s the plan?”
The councilman in the center began to speak.
“Your mission is to take a train as a follower of Mendaxia. You will be pretending to give religious hope to those in Faslow. Recently, Queen Mammon allowed medics and religious magicians into the country to prevent her troops from being attacked along the Faslow border. She is no doubt preparing for war and is relaxing restrictions to try to confuse the Minyades people as to whether she is the enemy. Some Minyades have stopped rioting; others continue to fight in her country. This has brought her time to prepare for war. But it is also our chance to infiltrate Faslow and get to the capital directly. You have very high-quality passports ready for you, needing only a photograph to be finalized.”
I was led by the group of operatives into a room to take the passport picture. There were a makeup station and a photo booth ready for me. A Human woman with a comb moved up my hair to cover my Felis ears. Being an Abomination, my Human side made my ears small enough to cover up.
“What do you want your name to be?” asked the photographer.
Then I couldn’t help but smile. Feeling a wave of nostalgia, I said, “Jonas Lenos.”
Within moments the picture was taken, and the passport was handed to me. It consisted of a small booklet with gold engravings.
“Memorize this false information, Salan,” said Smith.
Somewhat petulantly, I asked, “Why couldn’t we have done this sooner?”
Smith said, “As the councilor mentioned, plans have had to be changed because of the new law the queen enacted last night. So, you need to work with this.”
I read all the information as we returned to the room full of councilors.
“Salan, I will come with you to the train station. Then it’s just you and the operatives,” said Tora.
“We have to go now,” Smith motioned toward the door.
“Already? I don’t even know the plan.”
“Follow my lead. I’ll fill you in on the train ride. It takes four hours to get to the borders anyway,” said Smith.
Sanoj and I followed Smith and the operatives out. Tora flew down and walked beside me. I felt nervous.
“You know the speech; you have the papers in your pocket. But, Salan, you need to know that Sanoj cannot come with you,” said Tora.
“But…”
“It won’t work, Salan. Not if you are disguised as a magician’s follower. Can you see a Mendaxia follower with a bastil? I’m sorry, but I promise Seraculus and Elizabeth will take care of her.”
I walked alongside him to the train station. We had our hoods up so the press wouldn’t see us. We moved quickly. There was Mr. Gram, Elizabeth, and Seraculus all waiting at the train station. The train was ready to go. Seraculus hugged me when we got there.
“Goodbye Salan. Come back soon,” said Seraculus.
“I’ll be fine. But please take care of Sanoj for me.”
“Of course.”
Sanoj rubbed against me. She looked worried too.
“Meow.”
“I’m sorry, my friend. I can’t take you with m
e.”
Sanoj looked down towards the floor. She felt excluded and useless. I knelt and patted her head.
“I’ll be right back, OK?”
“Meow.”
“You know me: when I make a promise…”
I hugged Sanoj, stood up, and saw Mr. Gram. He stuck his hand out, and I shook it.
“Formal as ever, Mr. Gram.”
“What did you want me to do? Kiss you goodbye?” joked Mr. Gram.
We both smiled at each other. I turned and saw the operatives in the train. They were getting impatient.
“Let’s go Salan. We can't afford the reporters seeing us,” whispered Smith.
“Don’t go eating Tora, got it?” I told Sanoj as we hurried off.
I waved goodbye to all of them on the train. The machine roared to life. Smoke belched out of the stack, and the train began to move. The operatives and I sat down. We were the only people on the train.
“Won’t it look suspicious if we’re the only ones on the train?” I asked.
“Again, we’re the only class of people allowed to cross the border now. And very few people know anything about our mission. Not even the conductor or the engineer,” said Smith.
“How are we going to broadcast the speech?”
“We have relayed this to internal spies. They have the telephone lines with a microphone setup. They will move all the equipment with us. If guards stop us from moving around, we will say it is a religious sermon for Mendaxia. Given the new law, the queen won’t order guards to apprehend us so long as they are still preparing for war. The real difficulty isn’t setting up the equipment. It’s getting us over the border. Next is protecting you while you broadcast for your four minutes.”
“So, for those four minutes, you guys will be protecting me. But they will send the royal guards after you. What if you guys die?”
“We’re soldiers. We are prepared to die. All creatures are saved by Mendaxia anyway,” said Clora.
“Relax, Salan. We know what we signed up for,” added Sara.
I fumbled with my passport, reading it over. When I glanced up, I saw them all waiting patiently for my response. But I moved on.
“What happens to regular civilians who try to cross the border? What happens if someone doesn’t have a passport?”
“They would be interrogated for trying to cross the border illegally. If they’re clean of any other crimes, they would be held for the next train to be deported,” said Smith.
I leaned back, calming myself down.
“So how is this going to happen, start to finish, if everything goes as planned?”
Smith locked eyes with me and began talking.
“When we get to the border, guards will board the train. We timed our arrival to coincide with a change of shift for the border guards. They will see us in robes. Even if your hood is down, your hair will cover up those ears. You will hand your passport to the guard. Say nothing unless spoken to. Royal guards will be around us on the train, some of whom will be abundans. If we are caught, it won’t be pretty; we can kiss the mission goodbye. Once over the border, we will meet with three Minyades spies at the capital, near the town square. There will also be some others waiting for us in an old building.”
Seeing my eyes widen in surprise, Smith added, “Salan, the rendezvous site will be in the same general area as your trial. Think about it: this is the perfect place for your speech.”
I nodded, and Smith continued, “You will speak to the public with the microphone setup. We transferred money over earlier, so the spies have legally bought out the building for this sole purpose. There are plenty of abandoned buildings in Faslow. If any archers show up during your speech, we run. Although most consider using a bow on swordsmen is cowardly, the queen might very well permit it during a crisis.”
“I can block an arrow. I’m not running. I'm done running away.”
“It’s better for the people if you remain alive,” said Smith.
“Who said I was going to die?”
The other two operatives smiled at this. I was determined, nothing was going to stop me now. I was going to make that speech and stop the riots. If there is an afterlife, I hoped my mother and friends were watching me.
We continued to discuss tactics until we approached the border around seven in the evening. As the train shuddered to a stop, I looked out the window at a sea of golden royal guardsmen and silver soldiers hustling to make camp. There was an army of Minyades on the other side of the border, a sea of black and gold armor bristling with spears and swords. They weren’t kidding: war was fast approaching. The Black Forest was a good avenue of retreat, but the sheer number of soldiers was insane.
Two exhausted royal guardsmen walked onto the train. At the center of the group was a border patrol officer wearing blue clothes. I felt nervous but believed my lie as the soul of the truth. At that moment, I was Jonas Lenos. Nothing would stop me. The royal guardsmen were Human and Caltron males. I had a weird nostalgic feeling that I couldn’t put my finger on.
“How many?” asked the border patrol officer sternly, looking down at a clipboard.
“Four,” said Smith.
“Identification please,” said the patrol officer.
Smith handed the officer our passports. I sat on the far right near the window. The officer scanned the photos and returned our documents.
“Can you please remove all of your hoods?” asked the officer.
“These are magician followers, and they are not supposed to reveal their faces until they are confirmed as magicians themselves. It’s a Mendaxian custom,” said Smith.
“Cut the crap, Magician. You are satanic cannibals as far I’m concerned,” said the Human.
The border patrol officer raised his hand and turned to the royal guard to cut off his speech.
“Look, I don’t like them either, but we have our orders. I know we are about to switch shifts soon, and you want to get back to your tent as much as I do,” said the patrol officer.
The Human royal guard was pissed off, but he listened to the border patrol officer. The other royal guard, a Caltron, seemed familiar. Then I realized that he was the one who had chased me into the forest! He was the same soldier. He stared at us silently. My hands were beginning to sweat.
“Take off your hoods,” the patrol officer ordered.
I had to come up with something fast. I looked at Smith in desperation; I couldn’t think of any way to let him know that the Caltron knew what I looked like. Realizing there was nothing I could do, I took a deep breath. The Caltron was staring directly at me. We all took our hoods off, and fortunately, my hair was still in place covering up my ears.
The Caltron looked right at me for a moment. That moment felt like hours. The expression on the Caltron’s face then suddenly melted into weary impatience, and he whined, “OK; let’s go already.”
“Everything seems in order here,” said the patrol officer.
They got off the train fast, and the engines revved up again. When the doors shut, I let out a sigh of relief and wiped the sweat from my forehead.
“We made it; everything is going smoothly. You OK, Salan?” asked Smith.
“That Caltron chased me into the forest after my mother’s assassination. I thought we were done for.”
Smith looked surprised.
“Good thing he wasn’t very smart.”
“Yeah, we would have been in big trouble,” I responded.
“We have two more hours until we enter Faslow. So, let’s review our plans. We’ll make the speech at 10 in the evening when fewer guards will be on duty. Also, there are fewer guards inside the capital due to the soldiers at the border preparing for war with Atral. Now Salan, recite your speech.”
I read over my speech, closing my eyes to make it perfect. My hands were shaking. Four minutes to stop another Great War, to prevent the riots, and to confer equal rights to all the citizens of a country. All this from a 19-year-old! I spent my time looking out the window at buildings
in shambles, crumbling brick walls and homeless people staring blankly in the windows. It seemed that there were more homeless people now than before. We passed by scenes of stores being robbed with police chasing people down the street. Screams faded in and out of audibility. Faslow’s citizens were in pain. A disgusting tableau of hopelessness surrounded us for two hours.
Eventually, Smith stood up and shut the curtains.
“Why did you do that?”
“You don’t need to feel guilty for something that isn’t your fault. This is a grown up’s mess, and you are going to fix it. I believe you can do this. I shut the curtains so you could focus.”
I turned my thoughts inward and was suddenly surprised to feel the train stop. As soon as the train halted, we disembarked into a street that was filled with homeless people. Minyades, Felis, and Hymers – all of the hated races, everyone was struggling to survive. Still, this was one of the few places my people could call home.
No Caltrons, Cyclops, or Humans were anywhere to be seen, probably because they, like Tora, wouldn’t be caught dead scrabbling in a place like this. Some people looked at us with smoldering eyes, mistaking us for snobby tourists because of our fancy robes. I saw Babel’s family scrounging for food from a garbage can.
The world can be an unforgiving place; I thought as I moved with the operatives. We encountered a group of red and blue-skinned Hymers fighting each other.
“Quit staring. Jonas! Follow me,” barked Smith.
It took another 10 minutes to reach the building. We went through the alleys until we came to a metallic door covered in peeling paint with a wooden design screwed to it.
“I’ve been here before,” I said nostalgically.
“I know,” said Smith. “We investigated this place. Because the red-skin gang worked here, no one wanted it.”
Smith knocked on the door in a coded rhythm. I saw the eyes of a Minyades peering out of the door as it cracked open.
“Right on time, Smith,” said the Minyades.
He opened the door. There were three Minyades along with some Hymers. Among them, there was a Caltron with a part of a wing missing. I recognized him immediately.
“Mr. Finch!” I cried as I ran up and bear-hugged him.
Untold Deception Page 26
