by Dale Furse
“You saved me,” he said to the Shanks.
“Yeah, we saved you,” Shank One said, proud of himself.
Shank Two shook his head. “Actually, One saved you,” his eye drooped lower, “and for that I fear we will be reassigned this day.”
“Don’t worry, Two,” One said, “even Oln would say it was an unfair fight.”
“Most fights are unfair,” Shank Two said with a slight shake of his head.
Mike turned his attention back to Ludo. The canyon floor turned to dust as the archers rode to the prince. The four sleeping men awoke with groans and coughs.
“He knows me,” Prince Ludo said. “We must find the boy before he relays what he has seen.”
“But, Sire, he is the devil,” said the same ape-man who had punched Terni.
The bully didn’t look too brave. Perhaps small children were his choice of combatants.
“He is not the devil,” Ludo snarled.
Mike saw something in Ludo’s face and it gave him the creeps. His lips twisted and his eyes were glassy.
“I’m the devil.” The prince jumped on his horse and rode around the bend. The standing four mounted and followed with the rest of the troop. Mumbles about Mike being a demon and evil floated above the dust of fading hooves.
They continued up the gully in the same direction as they were headed before Mike lured them away. His stomach tightened. “Shanks, they’ll find the girls.”
Shank Two closed his eyes for a second. “No they won’t.”
One smiled a crooked smile at his brother.
Two shrugged. “We can’t get into this any deeper than we are now, can we?”
“Yeah, no deeper.”
The Shanks and Mike reappeared on the canyon’s floor next to Noor and Vala just as Ludo’s troop rode past the dead end. Mike let out a breath of relief.
“They are heading toward the sea,” Shank Two said. “We must follow.”
“No. First we help Vala.” Mike regarded Noor, and she seemed comfortable enough. He rubbed his face with his hands and noticed blood on his palm. The loose arrow. He watched Vala breathe while he traced the deep cut in his cheek. The gape was numb. Only shallow cuts hurt.
Vala groaned. He fell to his knees and wiped his hands on his grubby jacket before placing a hand on her forehead. It was hot and wet with sweat. Her once shiny hair was straggly and damp. She was too sick to move.
Without taking his eyes off the sick girl, Mike sat back on his haunches.
Ludo wouldn’t let Terni live if the kid knew who he was. There was no way of knowing if Terni had seen Ludo or not. Ludo’s men might be the only one’s the kid has seen. A voice screamed in his mind. Rubbish! Of course the kid recognized Ludo. There had to be a reason the rotten prince took him in the first place.
He pushed some stray hairs off Vala’s face, careful not to scratch her skin with his rough knuckles. He knew he couldn’t take her with him, but he couldn’t leave her there all alone either. She would die without help, but… Terni would also probably die without help.
The rustling of the Shanks’ robe sounded beside him. “Can’t you help her?” Tears welled in his eyes.
“Not this time,” Shank Two replied. “You are capable. There is a stream not far from here and herbs grow on its banks. Pound the herbs into a broth with water and perhaps they will help the fever break. You can fashion some bowls from hollow tree trunks with the sword.”
“Yeah, hollow tree trunks,” Shank One said, as their body became visible.
When Mike stood up, his legs felt wobbly. He forced his feet to move and collected the water bags. “Lead the way.”
They walked in the same direction Ludo and his gang rode, rounding bend after bend, until finally emerging from the ravines into a clearing. Mountains rose into the sky to the north. They were close enough to see a cascade of water, but not hear it gushing down the face of one of the higher mountains. The waterfall disappeared out of sight about a third of the way down the steep slope. A short way off, a wide stream glistened in the sunlight as it meandered around a stand of trees and babbled its way west. A westerly breeze brought the smell of salty sea air.
“We’re close to the ocean?” Mike asked.
“Yes.” Shank Two nodded. “Not far.”
Mike knelt by the stream, cupped his hands, and drank his fill before filling the bags. While he washed his face, pain returned to his cheek. A dull throbbing ache emerged around the deep cut. Maybe the herbs could help his wounds.
He searched the area for something to make bowls and spied a small, fallen, dead tree. Perfect. Two strikes of his sword hacked a piece clear. He grimaced as he scooped the plate-sized circle of wood up. Kneeling, he touched the sword’s tip to the crumbly bark, shaving and cutting at the wood.
Eyes wide, he chortled at the reasonable, if somewhat skewed, bowl formed in his hands. Not bad for someone who would do anything to get out of woodwork class. He soon had two others from the rest of the small trunk.
“Collect some of those gindis,” Two said, pointing to a mass of reed-type green stalks with white flower heads. “Keep the flowers.”
Mike checked his sword’s blade—still sharp. He sliced through the grass, keeping the flower heads intact. As he broke the stems into two smaller lengths, he smelled the same lavender scent Cornel’s treatment had when Mike had his first headache on this world. That first night seemed so long ago.
With flowers and stems stuffed down the front of his shirt, he swung the straps of the full water bags over his shoulder and collected an armful of sticks for a fire.
Back with Vala, droplets slid from her hairline in front of her ears and down her neck. She groaned and mumbled, throwing her head from side to side.
“You need to pound the gindi in the bowl,” Two said. “Separate the flower heads for tea later.”
“Yeah, tea later.”
“Can you drink tea?” Mike asked Shank One.
“Yeah, we like gindi tea.”
Pounding the stalks with the butt of his sword in the bowl, the oils released an aroma that lifted his spirits. He was sure the herb would make Vala well again.
“Pick the stringy bits out,” Shank Two directed. “Mix a little water with it.”
When he was done, Mike tried to give the medicine to Vala, but she thrashed and fought his hands away. He wondered who she thought he was.
“It’s the fever,” Two said.
“Yeah, the fever.”
Mike backed away and she quietened. He brushed her wet hair from her face. “It’s all right,” he cooed repeatedly. That was how his mother soothed the crying baby Derek. It worked for Vala as well. Cradling her neck on his arm, he tilted her head back and tipped some liquid down her throat. When his stepfather gave worming medicine to the little terrier they once owned, Dan had said, it had to swallow. But Mike couldn’t hold her head back and mouth closed at the same time. Luckily, she didn’t, or couldn’t, spit the liquid out. She swallowed some, then more.
“That should be enough,” Shank Two said.
Mike laid her head down. The heat from her neck warmed his arm. As soon as he moved away, she began to mumble again. Not long after, the vocalizations increased in pitch and speed. She threw herself about and ranted incoherently. Every now and then, she screamed the word no. He had never felt so helpless. All he could do was watch. One of the Shanks placed a hand on his shoulder. He kept his eyes on Vala.
As he gazed at his new friend, he hoped with all his heart she would be all right. His shadow lengthened over her body and crispness seeped into the air. Night was approaching.
Mike blinked at the tears in his eyes. “Now what do we do?”
“We wait,” Shank Two said.
“Yeah, wait.”
Both Shanks’ heads tilted forward in unison.
“Mike, we have to go now,” Two said. “Oln is calling us.”
“Yeah, he’s calling us.” The Shanks glanced at one another, eyes full of reluctance.
�
�Can’t you wait with me?”
“I’m sorry, but we have questions we must answer, and Oln doesn’t like to be kept waiting. Give Vala more treatment every hour until the fever breaks, Noor will awaken shortly.”
“Yeah, shortly.”
“What if the fever doesn’t break? What will happen to her?”
“The fever will break.” Two squeezed his left shoulder while One squeezed his right.
“Yeah, Mike, the fever will break.”
Chapter 15
The miserable mites multiplied their bites ten-fold, no, a hundred-fold. With only silent screams to fight the insects, Hankley wondered if they would leave him once they had stripped his flesh from his bones. Immortality would be much better if no pain existed. Warm tears wet his face. He tried to remember the last time he cried. After long, excruciating minutes, he scratched the haze from the back of his mind. He was once mortal, but that was so long ago.
Rone appeared before him.
Unsure if he could actually see in the void, she might have been real or imagined.
“Can you hear me?”
Her voice. He tried to focus.
Her hands brushed down his body. “Stop that. Leave him now.”
Weight lifted from his body. Where did they go?
Hands high above her head, Rone called out to the void. “Let Hankley, a brown robe of the Inner Realm, move and speak.”
Hankley fell forward.
Rone caught and held him. “They’re still here, but they won’t attack you again.”
Light headed, Hankley held her, his body no longer racked in agony. Her body—soft, her hair—silk. Torture to bliss.
A familiar high, melodic laugh as she moved Hankley away. “The bites will fade.”
“What were they?” He cleared his throat. “How did you do that?”
“Frels. They shouldn’t be here, and if you’re asking how I got them off you.” She shrugged a shoulder. “I have a way with bugs.”
“That was not what I meant, but was going to be my next question. I meant, how did you make me mobile?”
“I gave you what brown-robed servants already have. The ability to travel fully mobile between the realms. You must have neglected your studies when you were promoted from grey.” Her laughter echoed around the nothing.
Hankley grimaced. He had only skimmed the brown robe guidelines. He crossed his arms and waited. “That’s enough. You can stop cackling now. What are you doing here anyway?”
“Summoned to the Outer Realm, what else?”
“Oln?”
She looked away. “I’m not sure who summoned me.”
“How do you know you’re wanted then?”
“I’m wanted. That’s all I know at present, so you’d better get on your way, and I’ll continue on mine.” She pecked him on the cheek.
Hankley held the spot of her kiss as her back disappeared into the blackness. She seemed too desperate to leave, and the pain in his stomach told Hankley she wasn’t being truthful when she said she didn’t know who sent for her. Oln thought she was a spy, but the memory of her kiss had him sighing. There must be another reason why she did not want to tell him.
Checking his arms, he smiled; the bites had already faded some. One step and he was back on the path. Hankley strolled, although the path would move him forward anyway if he stayed still. It was good to stretch his legs. However, Rone’s prevarication nagged at his brain. She had just saved him from a painful second death, so she was not evil. He spent the rest of the time traveling through the void thinking about what Oln had said and reliving the feeling of her lips on his skin.
Oln returned so soon after him, Hankley was still in the orb room. He instructed Hankley to follow him to the domed room.
Once there, Oln paced and spoke in haste as if he had no time to lose. “Gart has confessed. The Shanks told Gart about the wall’s operation. Bring them to me.”
Hankley bowed, spun around, and hurried though the doors.
Although not surprised the Shanks were responsible, his heart weighted. He was starting to like the Mornt. However, he was thankful Rone was innocent and would never need to know he and Oln had her placed as number one suspect.
No sooner had he left the chamber to collect the Shanks, a ripple shivered the platinum steps. The vibrations infiltrated his body, everyone, and everything in the Inner Realm. The stairs under Hankley’s feet shuddered, so too did the gold street ahead. The startled faces in the gold quarter looked this way and that.
The yellow-gold buildings on either side of the street trembled. A servant had interfered with a world of the realm. The ripples would increase with the amount of interference. If they were powerful enough, they could bring down the palace. If it came down, Oln would lose the realm, and Hankley would lose Oln.
Hankley stepped onto a circle and appeared in the wall office. He called down to Zandell. “Meet me in the gold quarter,” he said to the Shanks, and in another haze vanished.
The Shanks did not argue and soon joined Hankley above.
They gazed towards the dome, looming out of the centre of the kingdom.
“Follow me,” said Hankley without waiting to see if they did.
He could not help feeling sorry for the Shanks. Every servant in the realm must have ventured into the gold quarter. They eyed the Shanks as they passed, with whispers and pointed fingers. “Everyone felt the ripple,” he said in a low quiet tone.
“Thought as much,” Shank Two said.
“Yeah, thought as much.”
They ascended the stairs and stepped over the threshold of the sanctum onto the mosaic-tiled floor of the expansive atrium. Hankley, ready to open the door to Oln’s inner chamber, hesitated. He looked from one Shank to the other. “Did you tell Gart how to access the wall?”
“Yes.” Shank Two gazed directly into Hankley’s eyes.
Hankley wondered what had come over Shank One. He didn’t repeat Two’s words, nor did he even look at his brother. Instead, his eyes were firmly fixed on the floor as if something had grabbed his attention and he wasn’t going to look away in case whatever it was disappeared. “Why?” Hankley asked.
“Gart can be very persuasive.”
“I’ve heard that. How was he persuasive?”
Two glanced at One. “He said he could turn us into two separate human-like creatures. He said we would no longer be Mornt.”
Hankley knew that was as good as killing a Mornt. Spirit connected them as well as body. Without those connections, they would be empty shells. Could Gart do that? He wasn’t sure but it was clear the Shanks thought he could.
Hankley had thought Oln would never let another god interfere with his servants, but he had become more and more confused over all the gods’ actions of late. Hankley wasn’t certain about anything anymore. “Are the boys all right now?”
“Not sure.”
“Yeah,” Shank One said, without taking his eyes off the floor. “Not sure. You made us leave before we were sure.”
Hankley gazed at One. Hankley had nothing to say so he just shook his head.
“Come,” Oln’s voice floated through the double pearl doors. Not loudly, but the authority in its tone carried through the closed doors.
Hankley wanted to know how the Shanks knew enough about the wall to give Gart the information he needed to acquire it. He would have to wait to find out. He gave a small smile, hoping to encourage the Shanks before pulling open the doors. When the Shanks’ passed, he stepped into the room, bowed, and was about to leave when Oln spoke once more.
“Stay, Hankley.”
“Yes, sir.” Hankley closed the doors and moved to the side so he could see Oln’s and the Shanks’ faces without being in the way.
“Shank One, look at me.” Oln said.
One slowly raised his head and visibly relaxed.
Although Oln’s lips were thin and tight, his eyes still held a hint of laughter. “I have two issues to address. One: You interfered with the people of my worlds. What h
ave you to say?”
Shank Two’s left eye drooped even more than usual. “We have nothing to say, Sir, except we beg your forgiveness. Mike was outnumbered by bandits and in great danger.”
One trembled so much their robe vibrated.
“I have seen. While I commend you for caring about the boy, I see your guilt. Issue two: Shanks, you told Gart how to get the wall key. What have you to say about that?”
Shank Two looked at Shank One for a second before replying. “Sir, Gart is a god.”
Oln laughed. “Well said, Shank Two, well said.” He threw his head back and roared, “Ga-art.”
Gart appeared, his skin ivory next to his brother’s bronzed complexion. He eyed the Shanks.
Hankley sucked in a breath. Shanks’ robe now vibrated. He wished he could make the interview easier on them. He was the one who told them to watch Mike closely.
Oln chuckled again. “Do you think we should let these poor fish off the hook?”
Gart nodded, but his expression said he did not care either way.
“Apologize to my servants.”
Hankley, glad Oln knew the Shanks didn’t have a choice, marveled at a god apologizing to servants.
“I apologize, Shank One, Shank Two,” said Gart.
Hankley wondered if Oln noticed the flicker of yellow surface in Gart’s light. If he had, he ignored it.
“We must return to Azu’s meeting.” A second before Oln vanished; he made an almost imperceptible movement with his hand, the Shanks’ robe turned green.
It bothered Hankley that Gart’s eyes narrowed just before he removed himself from the sanctum.
He studied the Shanks’ robe—green—the lowest of the realm. Cleaning and washing would be their lot from now on. The Shanks’ bottom lips fell, but their foreheads smoothed. They peered at each other and laughed.
Oln’s face reappeared. The Shanks stopped laughing. “Gart meddled with the wall enough for it to stay invisible to all. Hurry the designers, and make certain the boys are returned. The Shanks will continue to help you in your quest, but hear my words. My patience is running low. I cannot have humans coming and going as they please.
