by RM Wark
Rumors were she had been captured
Orica, so lovely and fair
She must be held against her will
In the mountain sprite’s cold lair
For the love of Orica
They would both stand tall
For the love of Orica
They would risk it all
The brothers went after the mountain sprite
On a cold Dectember day
They came upon him in a meadow
And thus began the fray
The mountain sprite proved mighty
With the strength of many men
But a single arrow shot through his heart
Proved mightier in the end
For the love of Orica
They would both stand tall
For the love of Orica
They would risk it all
And when the brothers found her
And told her of their tale
Orica did not rejoice at all
And instead began to wail
Her grief gave way to a blinding rage
The mountains rumbled from within
Molten rock and ash erupted
Burying Niles and Gim
For the love of Orica
They would both stand tall
For the love of Orica
They would risk it all
The sight of the fallen brothers
Brought tears to Orica’s eyes
The erupting fire turned to emeralds
Cascading through the sky
In the light of the morning sun
The emeralds began to melt
Creating twin lakes of green
Where the brothers had once dwelt
For the love of Orica
They would both stand tall
For the love of Orica
They would risk it all
*************
Henry’s heart was pounding so loudly he could barely hear his father.
“Are you certain you are up for this?” his father asked. “We can find another way, son. You do not have to do this.”
Jon stared intently at his son.
“I want to help, Father. I can do this. I know I can,” he insisted.
Jon sighed. “All right, son.”
Henry watched his father take out a small knife.
“This may hurt a little.” Jon grabbed Henry’s hand and turned the palm face up. He hesitated briefly before cutting into the skin.
Henry watched the knife slowly make its way across his palm. It stung more than he had expected, and a line of blood quickly rose to the surface. Though the red color was lost to the night, anyone would know it was blood at the sight of it. That is what they all hoped, anyway.
“Are you all right?” The worry was evident in his father’s voice.
Henry tried his best to ignore the throbbing in his hand. “I am fine.”
“Are you ready, then?”
“Aye, sir.”
“All right. I shall be right over that ridge, watching everything.” His father pointed in the distance. “I shall not let anything happen to you. I promise.”
Henry looked towards the bow slung over his father’s shoulder. He knew his father was a good marksman, but his stomach twisted in knots nonetheless.
“I should get going.”
Jon drew him into an unexpected embrace. “Be careful, son.”
*************
Hammond stared up at the dark sky littered with tiny points of light. The stars seemed brighter than usual. It is a new moon, he realized, taking a sip from his flask.
“That is just as well. I would rather it be a new moon than a full moon. One never knows what might happen under a full moon.”
It had been a long time since Hammond had to stand guard at the local storage barn. Grant should have been guarding this night, but he was not feeling well, or so he said. Hammond happened to know that tonight was Grant’s 18th birthday. He suspected the young man was enjoying a few pints at Vance’s Tavern.
I do not blame him, thought Hammond with a chuckle. I would have done the same at his age. In truth, I would do the same now. Hammond raised his flask to the sky in honor of Grant’s birthday and took another sip of whiskey.
Hammond had just returned the flask to the inside pocket of his coat when he heard the sound of someone approaching. Within mere seconds his bow was loaded and ready to fire.
“Who goes there?” he demanded.
“Please, sir. Can you help me?”
It was the voice of a young boy, and soon his small frame appeared in the distance. The boy was holding his hand as if it were injured.
Hammond lowered his bow. “Who are you? What are you doing here at this hour?”
“My family is passing through, sir,” the boy answered hurriedly. “We have come from Bartow with supplies. I live in Jessum with my mother and my little brother—”
“What is wrong with your hand?” Hammond interrupted, stepping closer to the boy.
“That is why I am here, sir. Our carriage broke down. I tried to fix it myself, but I cut my hand. I came looking for help.”
Hammond could see the dark blood upon the boy’s palm. “Wizards be damned. How did you do that?”
“I … I do not know, sir. I am not that good at fixing things.”
“Did your father not teach you properly? Where is he, anyway?” Hammond looked around but saw no one.
“My father? He … he is dead, sir.”
“Oh. I am very sorry to hear that.”
The boy shuffled his feet and looked to the ground before looking back at Hammond. “Can you help me fix the carriage, sir? I have tools. I just need someone stronger.”
Hammond faltered, looking back at the barn.
“Please, sir. I just need a little help. I shall not take too much of your time,” the boy begged. “My little brother is sick. He needs to be back home, in bed, where my mother can take proper care of him.”
Hammond sighed. “How far is your carriage?”
“Not far, sir,” the boy replied excitedly. “Just down the road a bit.”
“All right, I shall help.”
“Thank you, sir.”
After wrapping Henry’s hand in a clean rag he had found in the barn, Hammond grabbed his bow and quiver of arrows and followed the boy down the dirt path.
*************
They traveled mostly at night, along the lesser trails that were not so worn by the foot of man and beast. But they could not avoid civilization altogether – they needed supplies and food. They met their needs in the small villages along the way.
Lady Delia was often fearful of being discovered, but the Easterners tended to let them be. Gage was dressed as one of the Emperor’s guardsmen – they wanted no quarrel with him. And so the weeks passed without incident, until familiar peaks came into view.
“The Divisidero Mountains,” she said. “I did not think I would see them again.”
Her mind turned to Dmitri and Lady Yelena, and fear began to grow within her.
“I am known in those mountains. It is not safe for me to go there.”
“I promise no harm shall come to you, Princess. I know another way.”
They veered north to the sea and set upon a rugged coastal trail. Men of ill repute had forged it long ago as a secret trading passage with the West. Gage had learned of it recently; there were decided benefits that came with the life of a smuggler.
Much like the rest of their journey, the trail was quiet and devoid of people – or rather, devoid of the kind of people that wished to be seen. The smell of salt filled the air, and Lady Delia breathed it in deeply.
They stopped upon reaching a narrow bridge of rope.
“This is the bridge to the West,” Gage explained. “My journey with you ends here, my lady.”
Lady Delia was once again filled with fear. “But I have no wand. I shall not survive without you.”
Gage smiled and reached within his coat.
; “I nearly forgot. Lord Etan said this belonged to you.” He handed her a small purple stick.
“My wand!”
“Take care, Princess,” he said with a bow.
“Take care, Gage.”
She watched as he walked back down the trail from which they came. And thus Lady Delia began her journey alone.
With each passing day her confidence grew, and her fear began to subside. On the third day of her travels, the purple peaks of Mt. Xavier became visible in the distance. She made note of the mountain and let out a sigh. I cannot go home. Not yet.
She turned away from the purple mountain and made her way south through the remoteness of Eastern Stratford. She was headed for the Unnamed Forest. The forest where the old woman lived. The old woman who could no longer see through her clouded grey eyes and yet, somehow, saw so much. The old woman who had counseled her father long ago. The old woman who would help her now. Hopefully.
*************
A low whistle sounded in the distance. Had the Komanites not been waiting for such a sound, it would have likely blended in with the other random noises that abound when darkness sets in.
“The boy has done it!” exclaimed Silas in an excited whisper. “Come. Make haste!”
With the wave of Silas’s hand, the Komanites descended from the ridge and surrounded the storage barn. Their luck continued – the guard had failed to lock the door before leaving.
Silas quickly opened the door and motioned for his men to enter the barn.
“I shall keep a look out for the guard,” Silas said. “Quickly. Take all that you are able to carry.”
*************
Lady Dinah raised her head to the clear blue skies, closing her eyes so that she might soak in the sun’s rays. Slushy snow remained at her feet, and a cold breeze did its best to nullify any warmth the sun might have provided, but Lady Dinah relished the moment nonetheless.
It has been too long since I have felt the sun upon my face.
The quiet of the moment was interrupted by a loud chirp. She opened her eyes to find a grey pigeon sitting upon a perch. It puffed up its chest, ruffled its feathers, and chirped again. She smiled and stroked its belly with her finger.
“Hello, Greyson.”
The bird acknowledged her by chirping again.
“I know. It is time. Steward Isaiah has waited long enough.”
Lady Dinah pulled from her pocket the letter she had written to the Steward long ago. With a wave of her wand, the paper shrank and curled such that it could fit in the little copper capsule fastened to Greyson’s leg. “Safe travels, my friend.”
*************
He could not recall the last time he had seen his father this angry.
“What do you mean she is gone?” the Emperor bellowed.
“I have looked everywhere, Father. She is not in the castle.”
“How is that possible?”
“The guards at her door never left their post,” Lord Etan explained. “She must have escaped from the terrace.”
“But that is impossible,” the Emperor started to argue.
“Not if she had help.”
“If Cetahl has been compromised by the West, ….” The panic in the Emperor’s voice was evident.
Lord Etan shook his head. “No, Father. I do not believe we have been compromised.”
The Emperor eyed his son. “What is it you have not told me?”
“It pains me to tell you this, Father,” Lord Etan stated, his head lowered. “I am told that Gage was seen on the grounds last night.”
The Emperor’s face fell flat. “And?” he prompted.
Lord Etan raised his head to face his father. “This morning, I sent guards to his residence to question him about the Princess.” Lord Etan cleared his throat. “They found the residence abandoned. Gage seems to have disappeared as well.”
The Emperor sat back in his chair of stone in a state of disbelief. “But Gage could not have done this. He would not have done this to me. Besides, he could not break the spells … not without the help of a wizard.”
“Or a half-wizard.”
Lord Etan watched as his father’s jaw clenched tight. He knew it would be fairly easy to convince him that a half-wizard might have been behind the Princess’s escape. The only people the Emperor trusted less than half-wizards were Westerners.
Lord Etan brought forth the scroll of names and handed it to the Emperor.
“I have compiled a list of half-wizards known to associate with smugglers. I have already begun to set up interrogations.”
The Emperor did not bother to look at the scroll.
“So Gage is a smuggler? The rumors were true?” His father’s face was crestfallen.
“Aye, Father. The Princess would not be the first thing of value Gage has tried to smuggle to the West.”
Lord Jarek shook his head. “I cannot believe such a thing. Gage has been angry with me, aye, but to kidnap the Princess ….”
“It was more than anger, Father. He felt betrayed,” Lord Etan countered.
“Betrayed? That is absurd!”
“To be dismissed so readily after so many years of service, it was—”
“I care not for the service of drunken men who injure themselves in their own stupor!”
“I tried to reason with him many times. I knew he was angry, but I never thought he would do something like this.”
A flash of anger crossed the Emperor’s face. “I kept him around only as a courtesy to you. This would have never happened if ….”
The Emperor did not finish his statement.
“Forgive me. This is not your fault,” the Emperor said with a sigh.
Lord Etan remained silent.
“Have the trackers been notified?”
“Aye, Father. And I took the liberty of alerting them to Gage’s known hideouts.”
The Emperor nodded and began to drum his fingers on the arm of his chair. “When they find him, make sure his death is a painful one.”
“Aye, Father.”
“And keep me informed of your interrogations of the half-wizards.”
“Aye, Father.”
The Emperor fell silent, deep in thought.
Lord Etan remained in the throne room, patiently awaiting his dismissal.
“All is not lost,” his father finally said.
“Pardon?”
“I still have the corpid flower. I can still make use of it.”
“Aye, Father. What do you have in mind?”
The Emperor smiled for the first time since he learned the news about the Princess.
“Did I tell you that one of my spies is currently a guest at Mt. Xavier?”
*************
“What is your name, son?” Hammond asked.
“Uh … Henry, sir. My name is Henry.”
“How old are you, Henry?”
“Twelve, but I shall be thirteen in a few months,” the boy was quick to clarify.
“Have you decided to stay in school?”
The boy shook his head. “No. I wish to be a farmer like my father.”
“Your father was a farmer in Jessum?”
The boy’s statement surprised Hammond. He was somewhat familiar with the mining town, enough to know that farmers were not that common.
Henry hesitated before answering. “Aye, sir … before he died.”
That was enough to bring an end to the conversation for a little while. Hammond was content to follow the boy along the dirt road and say no more. They continued walking, getting farther and farther from the storage barn.
They had been walking for several minutes before Hammond spoke again. “Is your carriage much farther?”
“It is not too far. We should be there soon. I am very grateful to you, sir.”
Hammond returned the boy’s smile and continued walking. But after a few more minutes, he grew weary of the silence and found himself conversing with the boy again. “Whereabouts in Jessum do you live?”
“Um….”
“How far are you from the main square?”
“I am not certain, sir.”
“Have you never been to the main square?” Hammond teased. “I seem to recall quite a few boys your age trying to sneak into the Happy Miner when I was there last.”
“Um ….”
It was then that Hammond became suspicious. Everybody in Jessum knew the Happy Miner. Everybody. He stopped walking.
The boy noticed and turned back to him. “Please, sir. The carriage is not much farther. I promise.”
“You are not really from Jessum, are you?”
“Sir?”
“Where are you from?” Hammond demanded.
Henry just stared back at him, too scared to speak.
“Who are you?”
A low whistle sounded, and the boy took off running into the darkness.
“Wizards be damned!” cursed Hammond. He started to run himself, but he did not chase the boy. He ran back towards the storage barn.
How far did we walk? A mile? Two?
Regardless, Hammond’s legs were burning, and he was breathing heavily by the time the storage barn came into view. He could see men scrambling from the barn with armloads of goods. He stopped short and drew his bow. He was out of breath, and his hand shook a little as he loaded an arrow and pulled the string taut. He took aim at one of the men exiting the barn and prepared to release.
He did not see the arrow coming. It struck him squarely in the chest and he immediately fell to the ground, dropping his bow and arrow in the process. Hammond had never felt such pain. He could not move. He tried to cry out, but his words failed him as blood-tinged drool dripped from his lips.
Hammond’s thoughts turned to Edith and Gentry and – strangely – to the old man who had once saved him from the Taiga Forest on his ill-fated hunt for the elusive white deer.
