by J D Cowan
The beasts had four legs and were built like horses, but their manes were of fire red and their long faces each had long whiskers and cat-like ears. Their bodies were not as lean as equines either. These were built to be more agile—something between a jungle cat and a horse.
Ordopha also watched those alien animals. Her reaction was less horrified and more amused.
“What are they, Matthew? Do you have them in your world?”
“We have horses. This isn’t anything like them. But forget about that. Wait here. I’m going out to meet Alain and talk our way through this. I know that’s not his thing.”
“I apologize. I forgot myself.” She readied her bow and retrieved one of the few arrows remaining in her quiver. “Give me one word, and I will strike the commander in front.”
He put a hand on her raised arm. “It won’t come to that. Relax here and let me handle this. Trust me.”
The three men on the cat-beasts held spears and swords in scabbards. Close helms adorned their heads. Moonlight glinted against their shining armor, casting beams against the dark brush and dilapidated intruders. These men were soldiers.
Alain had no sense about him for picking a fight here. Matthew ran out to meet him.
The three of them rode up to Alain just as he waved them down.
“What are you doing?” Alain hissed. “This is my fight, Matthew.”
“The hell it is.”
The leader of the group, a man with a granite face nodded in his direction. He thought quick to get out of this.
“I am Matthew,” he said. “I wield the bracelet Castor, and this is my guard, Alain. We escaped through a gateway in the magic city in the mountains. Could you please tell us where we are?”
The two men behind the leader spoke with each other in hushed tones. They also spoke English, just as the people in the mountain did. The man in the front put up a hand in greeting.
“You are two days and nights from Nerono, the city of slayers. This is a place for holy men.” The leader’s voice was sharp and cold with precision. “I do wonder how you got through without succumbing to the poisonous air. We of the Knights of the Plain require a show of strength. Prove you are as hard as these hills and as swift as the wind. He Who Watches From On High observes and will tell who has the honor and the guile to be allowed victory. How you duel proves what you are.”
Alain shoved Matthew aside and put his arm out before the holder of Castor. His fingers danced upon the hilt of his weapon.
“I have had enough of this,” Alain said. “Get off that sad beast and take your blade. I will be enough for you.”
“Alain!” Matthew exclaimed. “He asked to fight me.”
“I let the boy fight a battle for me before. Look what that did to us. I will not make the same mistake twice.”
The large man did not stop to consult his men nor did he pause to reflect on the young man’s words. He leaped off his cat and clanked against the ground. With his sword at his side, he met Alain in the open grass. Guards above aimed their arrows towards the newcomers. Was dueling really so important to these people?
“Jason!” he yelled into his head. He used every force to push at the boy and get him up again. “Get up. We have to stop this!”
But before anything else could be done, the two warriors bowed to each other. The large man’s size advantage and armor looked disproportionate to Alain’s beaten down and bloody form. But despite this, Ordopha’s brother only tightened his trembling grip on his sword. Alain was in a hurry to die, and Matthew could do little about it.
Their blades clashed. Alain yelled as blood slashed loose from his shoulder. At this rate, Alain would not last much longer.
Chapter 12
Into Tyndarus
Alain’s fury rose with each slash he made. Their swords reverberated with such force that their bones rattled. Matthew swore to himself. This had to stop.
A man in grey robes emerged from behind the soldiers. His average height and slight build didn’t stick out, but his platinum hair and pale skin did. The newcomer stopped before the dueling pair.
“Your friend is sick. He should surrender. There is no honor in this.”
“You overestimate my influence,” Matthew said. “Only one person can stop him now.”
Matthew called out into the brush, and Ordopha emerged from the shadows. She dropped her bow to her side and raised her hands. The bowmen above trained their arrows on her, but the girl paid them no mind. She kept her focus on her brother. The man in the robes bowed at her approach.
“Milady,” he said with a bow. “I am Abbott Granzer. I apologize for Sir Orach’s violence. This is far too savage.”
“My brother is out of sorts. We have been through much. Please call your knight off, sir.”
“Sir Orach!” Abbot Granzer yelled. “Yield! These are our guests.”
“Alain!” Ordopha also called out. “Stop this! We have no reason to fight.”
Both men stopped momentarily. They stared at each other, blades still bared. Breaths grew harsh. They remained at odds for what felt like hours.
Matthew stepped between them. “This can wait. We have other problems to deal with.”
“I should slay you for this,” Sir Orach said.
Alain nodded, saliva pooling in the corners of his mouth. “Matthew, stand down.”
“It’s late, and we’re tired,” Matthew interrupted. “Your sister is scared, and the Abbott has invited us in. This is a waste of time, Alain.”
They both glared at Matthew. Another moment passed before they consented.
The pair put their swords away. Ordopha embraced her brother as Sir Orach removed his helmet and begged her for an apology. He had the same color hair as those in the mountain did, though his hair was close to the scalp. His sharp brown eyes pierced Matthew before settling on the Abbott.
“I apologize. My blade hungers for the blood of tigers. I have been here too long.”
“Intactilis is at sunrise, sir knight,” the Abbott replied. He then smiled at Matthew. “Your words were well-meaning but rather foolish. This is a land of honor and sturdy men. Do not step in between such a battle again, for your sake.”
Matthew thought about arguing but quickly decided against it. All he had to do was see the expression of contorted rage on Alain’s face to know that this went beyond a battle. There were still things he didn’t understand about this world.
The soldiers led the group back through the gates of this strange place. The Abbott walked beside Matthew, observing him.
“Who are you, friend?”
Matthew gave his name and a general summary of where he was from. “What do you know about Castor and Pollux?”
“I wonder. If you are truly who you say you are, then there is much to discuss.”
“Do you know where I can find a Mirror Gate? I need to return home as soon as possible. People are after us.”
“Rest first, friend. Tell me about your journey.”
The door slammed shut behind them. Alain still refused to look at him, and Ordopha slowly dragged her feet onward. Of the four escapees, only Jason rested.
“Aren’t you tired?” he asked the Abbott. “This is late to be receiving guests.”
“Very much so. Do you wish to sleep before we discuss things?”
With the way the bracelets worked, he didn’t need to. Matthew would simply swap bodies with Jason at daybreak. But that would take time to explain.
“If you want to know about us, Abbott, I’ll tell you. Just let me start from the beginning.”
The vision of the girl filled Jason’s dreams. A feminine teenage figure floating in the void replaced the gold in the mountain. She called his name constantly, whispering into his mind’s eye. The closer he moved to reach her the further she disappeared into the oncoming light shining out from behind her. She yelled her name as the brightness overcame Jason like a tidal wave.
Both the sun slapping him in the face and the crunch of a rake against gravel
woke Jason dead out of his sleep. His eyes hurt almost as bad as his brain. The sun sluggishly climbed the sky with its orange beams pummeling his consciousness. It was daylight.
He sat up from his bed. It was daylight!
The long building had simple beds like his scattered around with thin blankets on top. It had all been so well organized. But the place was barren. The crafted wooden walls and vaulted ceiling gave the impression of some sort of monastery. That might explain the raking he heard outside.
“You are awake,” a man said. The source of the statement wore grey robes with carefully embroidered black and white lines which formed patterns of clashing shapes similar to waves in the surf. They each formed an image of two faces that blended into one like a silhouette. “Matthew has told me all about you, Jason. You are in an abbey on the outskirts of the Thieves’ Forest. The Black Mountains you escaped from are beyond them. I’m amazed that you four made it so far.”
“This is the Abbot,” Matthew interrupted. “He’s on the level. Alain is sleeping in the knight’s quarters, and Ordopha is with the servants. You’ve been out for two days. Well rested yet?”
Jason blushed. “Hello, Abbot. I’m Jason. I guess you know about Pollux and everything else.”
“I do. Matthew also told me about a bomb in his chest. Something like a curse?”
“That’s right!” Jason threw his cramped legs over the bed and stretched. “If I’ve been out for two days then that means it’s been four days since he had that thing put in. We’ve got to get going.”
The Abbot smiled. “Matthew should be able to tell you what you need. Do you mind? I have my duties to perform, and he can speak inside your head, correct?”
“Please go on with your day. I’ll listen to the jerk say what he has to say.”
The Abbot bowed and disappeared into the burgeoning day. Jason groaned at the pain. Even with all that rest, his muscles hurt.
“So, boy. Where do you want to start? Have any dreams?”
Jason thought on it, but nothing came to mind. “No, I can’t remember. It doesn’t matter anyway, we got that seed. Anyway, I’m going to find Alain and Ordopha. Has Shaula contacted you?”
“No. I understand you’re worried about the bomb, but she wouldn’t set it off. Not as long as you have the seed and she needs these bracelets. Besides, she said there’s a time limit.”
“If it’s a week then we have three days left. We can’t just sit around here.”
“A lot’s been happening, you know. No need to fly off the handle.”
As Matthew began to go on, Jason stood up and stretched again. Sore muscles and bones beat with his headache. It was going to be awhile before they could get back out on the road to . . . wherever they were going. Nonetheless, he needed to find the others.
He noticed a pile of clothes on his bed. The well-tanned shirt and pants fit far better than the old prison rags. The green tunic simply slid over his new wear. Jason grunted as he dressed.
That was when he spotted his bandages and the lack of dirt on his skin. They had cleaned him.
“The Abbot received a message via hawk days ago. It was from the Misery Mists in the Black Mountains.”
“What does that have to do with us?”
“It was from the Vultures. Richter specifically.”
Jason perked up. “Continue.”
“They escaped the frogs back to their village, but they kept looking out for us. They thought we died in the storm. The Abbot sent them a response last night that we made it here.”
Jason let the weight slide from his shoulders. “Alain and Ordopha should be ecstatic.”
“Yeah, they should.”
“We got away, at least.”
“I’m still not sure how. Apparently, that green fog is poisonous to Earthwalkers. It’s all over the forest, too. That’s why no one makes it through. Whatever that mirror was, it really saved us.”
There were boots on the floor that might as well have been pillows for his feet. He slid them on his sore toes. Those old prison shoes would not be missed.
Jason stepped out into the day with a yawn. The morning sun beat down on his fresh wear.
Before him, men tilled small fields. Strange cat-like horse creatures pulled carts. The men wore brown robes, and the beasts obeyed their every word. Beyond those working were knights on the ramparts and gates surrounding the area. Buildings littered this abbey, mostly smaller than the one Jason had left, built with wood and housed cruck roofs, though there was what looked like a barn made of timber with a roof that was thatched. The place was a bit too small to be a village.
The abbey centered on a medium-sized, weather-beaten stone church. The moss on the blocks looked as though it had been allowed to grow for ages. Chanting floated out from the interior of the oversized place.
”I don’t get it,” Jason said. “What’s an Earthwalker?”
“These people are known as Earthwalkers. Legend is that thousands of years ago the Great Sorcerer King created them out of the very dirt of Tyndarus.”
“So he’s their God? Does that mean they worship Nieto?”
“Not at all. Listen to the rest.”
Matthew went on. When Nieto arrived from beyond the sky, he created the Earthwalkers from the very dirt under his feet. For centuries they lived as little more than drones and puppets.
But then a man on wings of light flew down from the heavens and fought the Great Sorcerer King to a standstill, sending life essence down onto the people. The Earthwalkers absorbed the strange light, and it freed them from servitude. The battle ended, and the warrior of the sky disappeared, but Nieto had been left close to death. His former subjects chased him into the mountains where he hid ever since.
“Okay,” Jason said. “That explains this place. I get that. But who is Nieto?”
“No one knows. No one has even seen him in centuries.”
“Probably because he’s been busy on Earth.”
Jason pushed open the large door to the church. Creaking pews filled with men awaited inside. They all kneeled in prayer. The empty embroidered chair at the front glistened with plated gold. The freshly picked flowers tickled his nostrils. The Abbot himself kneeled before it with his face flat against the floor. Jason sidled into an empty pew as the prayers continued.
“Do you see Alain or Ordopha?” he whispered.
“Near the front.”
Sure enough through the rows of people, he spotted the backs of his friends’ heads where they kneeled. They took part in this strange service.
Matthew said that the Abbot called it Intactilis. This was their way to give thanks to the one who saved them from their prison so long ago . . . whoever that was. He scanned the carved stone and wood. The patterns of flying men in the walls were hard to ignore.
Stained glass with large white wings over an orange sunset showed the hope these people had taken from the defeat of Nieto. Little wonder the Great Sorcerer King used what life remained in him to take back what he had lost. His world, Tyndarus, had changed overnight, and all he built had been ripped from his control.
No wonder he even looked to Earth. Jason thought of the service where they kneeled to a god that freed them from a poisonous hold. Men outside carried small boulders on their backs as they did their work and the women bruised their knees and shins on the paths as they crawled across them in prayer. How bad was Nieto’s control over these people that this could be seen as an improvement?
“You probably think they’re crazy,” Matthew interrupted. “But they have stories of their own. I heard the books of their prophets contain insanity beyond even what we went through. Not to mention they have heard of Mirror Gates.”
“How many are there?”
“The Abbot guesses that Nieto has four from the legends, but he doesn’t know. Nieto didn’t create the Mirror Gates: he took them from another world and warped them with his magic. They could be anywhere on Tyndarus.”
Jason stared at the painting of winged warriors assaul
ting a mountain covered in purple mist. “I’m sure that Shaula hid them well if the two of them are as hated as it looks.”
“The king has a Mirror Gate. It’s been locked up for centuries. That’s our best bet. Since you’re up and feeling better, we’ll leave tomorrow.”
“If it’s not Nieto’s it might not head to Earth.”
“Got any better ideas? We could go back through the forest.”
“Quiet.”
Earthwalkers lined up before the empty seat. The Abbot sat in the chair and said a few words in a language Jason didn’t understand. The line moved forward, and the first man kneeled before the Abbot. The robed man put out his hand and asked the kneeler a question. After the response, he slowly slid his hand into the man’s chest as if it were sinking into water. The strange smell of rotting flesh filled the air. The Abbot removed his hand, and the man bowed and returned to his pew. He remained perfectly fine. Jason clenched his stomach at the stink and backed out of the pew.
“Something wrong?” Matthew asked.
“Didn’t you see what he did?”
“Yes. And?”
“We’re leaving here as soon as possible. This place is screwy.”
A few minutes later the service ended. Alain and Ordopha met them outside, and Matthew left Jason’s head. Alain beamed. He looked the best Jason had ever seen him with fresh clothes with a new sword that glinted against the sunlight. Matthew stared at Ordopha, and Jason couldn’t blame him. She cleaned up well. Her hair was done up, and her simple green dress brought attention to her glowing smoky eyes. That extra day did them well.
Matthew started talking to them as the rest of the church emptied, but Jason blew past them. He couldn’t stand the church any longer, and he found himself swearing under his breath about the place. His breaths sharpened, and nostrils flared.
Between the oblivious worshippers of a god that left them and a demon that still lived to terrorize a whole other world, Jason couldn’t decide which he detested more. Nieto should have been hunted down and destroyed.
But it still stuck in his mind. If that god had abandoned them then what was that service for? Were they calling upon its power? If that essence that nearly killed Nieto remained inside them then maybe these people weren’t so crazy after all.
