by Steven Novak
“Wait a minute!” Tahnja yelled as loudly as she could while still remaining low enough as to not be heard, “What do you think you’re doing? That doorway is packed to the gills with Ochans. Trying to sneak through now is suicide!”
“I honestly don’t give a crap, darlin’. My friend is in there. I gotta get him out. I gotta do something,” Roustaf responded after licking his palm and using it to smooth down the loose hairs of his bushy mustache in preparation for high-speed flight.
He knew that if he turned to look at Tahnja and spotted the worry on her face, his heart would instantly melt like hot butter in a pan. He couldn’t turn around. He couldn’t think. The time for planning had come and gone, now there could be only action. He had to keep going. He couldn’t look back.
Lunging forward, Tahnja snagged his left leg between her fingers, preventing him from zooming forward into the darkness. “Oh no, no, no, you’re not going anywhere, mister.”
Tugging wildly and trying to pull his leg free, Roustaf’s body thrashed back and forth, his wings moving so fast they’d become invisible. “Will you let go, woman?” He grumbled while attempting to pry her fingers—which were nearly as long as his entire body—from his appendage with both of his arms.
Unable to shake himself loose, the little man relented with an angry growl. Throwing his hands into the air in frustration, he sighed deeply. The night air was abnormally sticky and warm, even for Fillagrou, and aided by his wild thrashing, it had left him covered in a thin sheen of extra salty sweat. Though Roustaf had lived within this forest for so many years and had come to think of it as home, the non-stop humidity was something he never became fully accustomed to. Nor did he really look forward to the day that he managed to. Tahnja’s huge eyes, with her low-hanging pink eyelids, slowly morphed from annoyance to sympathy to at last pleading. As he predicted it would, the expression on her face began to open up the tiniest of stress fractures in his normally steel-coated resolve. She was playing dirty pool and she knew it. He had to help Pleebo though, no matter what look she was tossing his way. He simply had to. Roustaf’s relationship with Pleebo began long before Tahnja was ever in the picture, and Pleebo had always been there for him, no matter what. When there was no one else, there was Pleebo and very often only Pleebo. Leaving his friend in the hands of the Ochans—leaving him to the whims of fate—Roustaf knew this was wrong by every possible definition of the word. It was something he just couldn’t do.
His wings slowing to a flutter, he rested his free leg on Tahnja’s closed fist, his tone suddenly soft and gentle. “Listen, beautiful, I understand that everyone trying to make it through the doorway right now just isn’t gonna work. I get it. I have to go, though. It’s night and I’m small enough to fit in one of those bastards’ pockets; I can sneak right past them and into the castle before any of those bums even spots me.”
Tahnja paused momentarily, shaking her head and doing her best to fight back the ever so subtle hint of a tear forming in the corner of her eye. “And then what? What do you plan on doing once you’re through? Do you seriously think you can break them out all by yourself?”
“I don’t know,” Roustaf answered honestly. “I’ll tell you this much though darlin’, don’t let the size of these meat hooks of mine fool you. Any one of them crumbs gets in my way and I guarantee you, they’ll end up with a mouth full of broken teeth.”
Tahnja rolled her eyes, giggling slightly against her better judgment at the outlandish statement while wiping the single tear from her cheek. Less than a few inches from her face, the pint-sized man who had unexpectedly come to mean so much to her was holding his fists in front of his tiny head, moving them back and forth and shadow boxing comically.
He was so very stupid …so very, very loveable, stupid and brave.
Dropping his hands, Roustaf smiled from underneath his furry mustache. “Look, I’m just going to sneak through, look around, get a lay of the land, and come back. It’s better that we know what we’re up against before charging in there with our guns blazing like a bunch of idiots anyway. Just keep everyone here until I get back. Can you do that for me, darlin’?”
Smiling subtly, though still shaking her head, Tahnja released her grip on his leg and whispered breathily, “Yeah, I can do that.”
Just over her shoulder, the remaining group watched the exchange between the two closely. One of the two Tycarian soldiers in the back dipped his head and nodded in Roustaf’s direction, impressed with the mettle of the little man.
Rising to his feet, Donald Rondage huffed, “I’m going with you.”
The instant the words escaped his mouth, he wondered why in the world he was saying them. A large part of him wished he hadn’t. Despite the fact that sneaking past the Ochans and into the doorway seemed, at first glance, to be an impossible task, and ignoring the fact that lizard men and their gargantuan dinosaurs were most likely headed to the doorway to his world, the only thing in the young boy’s head seemed to be Walcott and his safety. If it hadn’t been for that annoying old turtle, Donald knew full well that he wouldn’t even be there. He owed it to the old coot to help him. He owed it to himself.
Closing the distance between himself and the headstrong boy, Roustaf came to a hovering stop a few inches from his chubby pink-skinned face. “Think again, slick. You’re not going anywhere. You try to sneak past those goons and the only thing you’ll accomplish is getting yourself hacked into bite-sized pieces. When they’re done with you, they’ll use whatever’s left of me to pick their teeth.”
Donald rolled his eyes, locked his jaw and gritted his teeth. “Oh gimme a break, you little turd, I ca—”
Roustaf interrupted him. “When I get back, and the minute there’s an opening, you’ll be going through with the rest of us at your side and not a minute before. That’s all there is to it, kid! No more discussion!”
Turning, Donald stomped his foot in the dirt, cussing at the annoying little man beneath his breath.
Sensing the boy’s frustration, Roustaf’s tone once again changed. Gone was the hard edge and the gruffness, quickly replaced by something far more understanding. “Look kid, this doesn’t work unless you help me out. I know you wanna get Walcott outta there, believe me, I do too. We can’t pull it off if we don’t work together, though. I need your help; I need you to stop being such a pain in the tush and go along with me on this one.”
Something in the tone of Roustaf’s voice calmed Donald a bit. Instead of ordering him around the way his brothers so often did, the little man was simply talking to him, treating him like an equal and like a friend. In his fourteen years, not once could Donald recall having been spoken to like that, like he was more than a number or an obstacle, like he mattered. He didn’t hate it.
Though still slightly frustrated, he lifted his hand and waved the little man away while never turning around. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever. Go on. See you when you get back.”
Roustaf grinned slyly. “You can count on it, kid.”
A moment later Roustaf’s tiny body was slicing through the night air at blistering speeds while staying low enough to the ground to remain unnoticed. Using the darkness as a shroud, he managed to zip past the Ochans with relative ease. Reaching the edge of the massive pit leading to Ocha, he dove headfirst into the black without an ounce of hesitation. There was no time for second guessing, no time for pause. In fact, there was no time to waste at all. Never much of a math genius, the equation was so remarkably simple even Roustaf could make sense of it. Immediately after descending into the darkness of the doorway, a deep, penetrating cold folded over his body like gooey frozen sludge. Seeping into his every orifice, it melded with him at a microscopic level, chilling him to the core of the stuff from which he’d been made. Despite his bravado, despite his dedication and heroism, he was suddenly overcome with a profound feeling of fear. Only once before in his life had he dared venture into the miserable frozen world known as Ocha. It was a journey he hoped he would never have to make again.
Unfortunately for Roustaf, it seemed that in this and every other world, one rarely gets what they hope for.
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CHAPTER 48
THE ENEMY WITHIN
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His broad sword wedged in the belly of one Ochan soldier, while his dagger pressed against the throat of another, Krystoph heard an odd hum emanating from somewhere behind him. Though disguised by the sounds of war and the crash of waves, the hum was growing significantly with every passing moment. Steady and unending, it sounded almost mechanical in nature, yet there was something else beneath the rhythmic resonance, something alive, vibrant and deadly …something unlike anything the former Ochan general had ever heard. Sensing uncommon warmth on the scales of his back, he pulled his sword from the Ochan’s belly and turned his head quickly in its direction. Some distance away from him, young Tommy Jarvis sat on his knees near the center of the ship. The boy’s eyes were shut tight, his hands lifted to his face. This in itself would hardly be worth noting were it not for the incredible glow emanating from those very same hands. After using his blade to dispatch the second Ochan, Krystoph turned his attention fully to the incredible sight.
Tommy Jarvis squeezed his eyes closed as tightly as he could, his chest heaving underneath his soaked shirt. His mouth slammed shut, coiling into an angry grimace. Beneath his knees, the deck of the Briar Patch rumbled and swayed, water sloshing about, spraying around him wildly.
Krystoph’s body froze in place as he stared at the boy, though the grip on his weapon tightened significantly. The sight unfolding before him was both astonishing and frightening, while scarcely seeming real. The invading horde of Ochan soldiers paused their assault as well, engrossed in the light show as much as he. Ever since the disaster at the castle of their prince, there had been no shortage of wild stories of the murderous walls of light, and magic unlike any magic that had come before. Very few of the soldiers, however, actually believed the ramblings of those claiming to have witnessed the murder of the prince firsthand. After all, how could such a thing be possible? It couldn’t.
The two spheres of light encasing Tommy’s hands began to grow; like bubbles floating underwater they eventually merged together and became one. The newly formed sphere spread outward as well, continuing until it had swallowed the whole of Tommy’s body. Cackling and humming, it popped like electricity, if electricity were somehow a living, breathing thing. More than a little confused, the Ochan soldiers opted to do what they did best: fight. Those carrying bows immediately began firing arrows at the bizarre ball of translucent electricity. Their weapons, however, had no effect. The moment the arrows came into contact with the ominous light they evaporated to dust. His heart racing, Krystoph swallowed deeply, his muscles pulled tense and tight, unwilling or simply unable to move. It was true, all of it. Every single solitary rumor was true.
Whatever this thing kneeling before him was, it was indeed more than the simple useless child its outer flesh would have liked him to believe. The monster was hidden within, and the monster was angry.
The light surrounding Tommy halted for a moment, bulging inward then outward once more as if it were breathing. Scanning the area around him, Krystoph retrieved the remnants of a half shattered crate. Dropping to one knee, he lifted the dusty wood in front of his body and created a makeshift shield. Breathing deeply, he lowered his shoulder and steadied his position, preparing himself for whatever might come next. Peering through a crack between the shattered boards, he watched as Tommy opened his eyes and began to slowly scan the ship around him. Though barely noticeable, Krystoph took note of the fact that the child’s grimace had transformed into something more resembling a smile. He had seen this expression before; it was one he knew all too well. Not only was the boy aware of what was happening, he was enjoying himself.
The powerful, airy electricity pouring throughout Tommy’s body felt different this time than it had in the past. When the amazing sensations overtook him in Valkea’s castle, it was the power pulling the strings, the power making the decisions. This was no longer the case. Tommy was fully aware of the burning, crackling power encasing him. He could feel the bizarre light coursing through his pores, sense it snapping angrily against his skin, and feel it causing every hair on his body to stand at attention. He was fully aware of it, just as it was fully aware of him. When he breathed, it breathed as well. When he moved, it moved with him. Similar to a shadow, it was a variation of his form, a connected distortion of the original that could never leave his side. Once a one-way street leading to a dead end, the lanes making up the whole of Tommy Jarvis had opened up and expanded to two. Not only did the traffic now move freely in both directions, but Tommy was the one moving it. To his left, he spotted an injured Nestor surrounded by gape-jawed Ochan lizard men, all staring blankly at the ball of living light he’d become. To his left, Captain Fluuffytail sat on his rear in the inch of water covering the deck of his ship. A few feet behind the dusty rabbit, the mysterious Ochan Krystoph was using a shattered crate for protection—protection from him. Behind Tommy, the massive Ochan war ship continued to occasionally crack against the side of the Briar Patch, threatening to tear the ship apart at its rusty seams. Tommy knew that he couldn’t allow this to happen, not with his little brother and Staci on board. He couldn’t allow this to happen and he wouldn’t allow this to happen. When Tommy stretched his hands from his sides, the ball of energy mirrored the movement, expanding again at an incredible rate. In an instant, it swallowed the entirety of the Briar Patch. Moving across the water, it required only a moment for it to encase the entirety of the Ochan ship as well. The Ochan warriors the glow came into contact with were instantaneously engulfed in something nearly the strength of the sun, frying them from the inside out and cooking their flesh to a blackened crisp in mere seconds. The rope that only moments ago tied the two ships together disintegrated as the Ochan vessel became engulfed in the bizarre white glow. Scorching, ripping, tearing and breaking the incredible structure all at once, the monstrous ship was reduced to mere timbers in an instant. The parts of the ship not transformed to dust were thrown violently for miles in every direction like fiery debris shot from a cannon. When the enemy had been dispatched, the light folded back into Tommy’s body. Like boiling water, it evaporated to vapors that then rose from the boy like steam off the top of a lake. Feeling drained yet wildly energized, Tommy closed his eyes once again while attempting to catch his breath. Unable to hold his head up, it flopped forward. He suddenly felt empty and spent, like he could sleep for days.
The smile on his face widened.
Pulling the makeshift shield from his face, Krystoph patted the sides of his body, ensuring that everything was exactly as it should be. Scattered around him were a bevy of charred Ochan corpses, their skin pitch black and shiny with seawater, crispy and unrecognizable. Plumes of grayish smoke now rose in steady streams from their smoldering bodies. The stench was ungodly. Though enveloped in the light as much as any of his people, Krystoph had not suffered even a scratch; for that matter, neither had any of Fluuffytail’s crew. Scattered around the ocean surrounding the Briar Patch floated the smoldering remains of the Ochan ship, slowly sinking below the dark waves. Bits of timber were scattered for miles in every direction, along with the corpses of yet more Ochan soldiers. The scene was grizzly, terrifying and undeniably impressive. In a moment, the pink skinned child had transformed himself in Krystoph’s eyes from a weak and useless nothing to something else entirely, something demanding respect, something requiring his full attention. He would no longer take these children lightly.
“Such power,” Krystoph muttered under his breath, the smell of freshly burnt Ochan flesh filling his nostrils and making his heart race. “Such incredible power.”
As if awaking from a trance, Krystoph’s mind snapped back to the reality of the situation. The impressive light show created by the boy momentarily lit the night sky as if a star had been pulled from the sky and dipped in the water. There was no dou
bt it had been visible for mile upon mile upon mile. There were hundreds of Ochan ships sailing the waves of Aquari; more than one of them had to have caught a glimpse. Flinging what remained of his broken crate to the ground, he stomped across the deck in the direction of Captain Fluuffytail. Like everyone on the ship, Jacques was staring wide-eyed at Tommy, still unsure if what he’d just seen had actually happened.
Grabbing the dusty wet rabbit by his protective chest plate, Krystoph lifted him into the air, their faces suddenly only inches apart. “Continue north, now!” He growled through a mouth full of razor sharp teeth, spittle spraying onto Jacques’ face and making his broken whiskers twitch wildly.
“I don’t take orders from the likes of you, ya green-skinned bastard!” Fluuffytail barked back, his little rabbit feet dangling mid air.
Reaching down, the captain retrieved a dagger from his belt. Krystoph quickly snagged his wrist, twisting it violently until the pain forced Jacques to drop the weapon. “Every Ochan vessel within a hundred miles will have seen the boy’s magic,” The Ochan stated sternly. “He has awakened a sleeping giant. The time for discussion has passed. We leave now, or we die.”
Dropping Fluuffytail back to the deck, Krystoph stepped away, now glaring at Tommy near the center of the ship. For a moment, the two locked eyes, neither willing to blink.
From the center of the ship, Staci and Nicky hesitantly made their way from the watery interior of the ship and onto the deck. Sniffing the stinky humid air thick with the flavor of burnt flesh, Staci cringed, then pinched her nose and waved her hand back and forth in front of her face. Though careful not to slip on the wet timbers, Nicky instantly bolted across the deck and collided with his brother’s chest. The two embraced. Staci was not far behind, wrapping her arms around Tommy as well, happy to see him uninjured.
