by Gary Bregar
Bella was stunned. Although she had known, she still hadn’t been sure—not enough time had passed. She only looked at him, trying to hide any expression of defeat.
When the guard pulled the gate aside, he lifted the torch to throw light on the two travelers in front of him. Balki dismounted from his horse and was now standing ten feet from him.
“What did you say was your business?” he said, looking at them curiously.
“I’m quite sure that I didn’t say,” Balki replied calmly, now fully cloaked.
“Then what is it?” the guard asked impatiently.
“My wife and I are passing through. We would be much obliged if you would escort us to the Outland gate,” Balki said.
He could see the man wavering, his mind struggling against the cloaking power.
“Sir, I cannot open the gate on the Outland side. That’s impossible,” the guard replied reluctantly.
“You will open it,” Balki said in a voice so calm that Bella felt goose flesh on her skin.
“But, sir—”
“Hear me well—you will escort us to the gate on the Outland side. You will open the gate, and you will not tell anyone of it,” Balki said, now throwing all of his power behind the words.
There was a flicker in the man’s expression—a slight change.
“Yes, of course—follow me,” the guard said, as if opening the gate had been obvious and never in question.
Balki mounted his horse once more and they road into the courtyard. It was deserted. Noise coming from the main building carried down into the courtyard well enough to drown any noise that the horses made, but the clopping of hooves on the cobblestone seemed uncomfortably loud and eerie.
The smaller buildings that lined the edges of the courtyard were dark. Some weren’t buildings at all, but only sheds, some without walls.
They went along the left side of the courtyard, and Bella was glad that they would not cross in front of the main building. She wasn’t sure if it was the power of Balki or the inflock (or both), but after seeing how he had controlled the guard, she would not put innocent men at risk. She thought that there was a good possibility that he could just as easily command them to kill each other. She would not risk their lives for a slight chance at her own.
When they arrived at the back gate that would open to the Outlands (and Skite), Bella still wasn’t sure why Balki had taken their path through the post. For now, it seemed that they were only walking through one gate and out another.
Balki dismounted his horse, and the guard only stood before him with a look of wonder on his face, as if his mind had drifted far off.
“Open it,” Balki said.
The guard obeyed, unlatching the bolt and sliding the door open. When he accomplished this, he continued standing, as if awaiting further instruction. Balki walked through the gate, leading both horses, and once they were through, he stepped back around to the guard.
“Step out and close the gate behind you,” he told the guard.
The guard only stood for a moment and even in the dim light of the torches, Bella thought she could see his face turning red. The sweat that was now visibly glistening in the torchlight, made Bella understand that he was struggling against him.
“B-b-but sir...” he tried to say, but could not fight the impulse to obey.
Bella immediately felt such pity for the man that she nearly burst into tears. Even Balki was surprised by the man’s reaction. The power to cloak had only been useful to him as a way of convincing a person to agree with him—trust him. The inflock had apparently mutated his cloaking ability, forcing the guard to obey whether he trusted him or not.
Balki held up his hand, stopping the man from speaking, and repeated, “Step out and close the gate.”
The guard finally gave in to defeat and did as he was instructed. There was no latch on the outside of the gate, but he had closed it and Balki seemed satisfied with that.
“Are you expecting armies from Obengaard?” Balki asked.
“Yes,” the guard answered.
“When?”
“In two days’ time.”
“And how long until someone will find you missing?” Balki asked.
“My rotation will end at the bell of midnight,” the guard replied. He was shaking and sweating badly now, and the inflock knew that he would not be able to trust the man’s answers if pressed further.
“I see,” Balki said, stepping closer to the man. “Thank you for your assistance this evening.”
Then, as quick as lightning, Balki drew his sword and put it through the guard’s chest.
He continued standing with a shocked look of horror on his face, and Bella thought she also saw something else. He’s no longer held by Balki’s power—not now, she thought. But it wouldn’t matter.
As Balki pulled his sword from the guard, he said, “I will be sure to commend your service when I speak to the king.” It would be the gurgling voice of the Other that the man heard last.
He fell to the ground, and Balki stood over him looking down expressionless. He pulled a piece of parchment from inside his shirt. Bella could see a round black seal on it as he laid it over the guard’s heart. He took the sword from the guard’s belt and raised it above him. He then brought the sword down, through the parchment—and the man beneath.
Bella let out a gasp, but kept her shock in silence.
Balki turned to give Bella a silent long look before mounting his horse. As they rode away from the post, back into the Outlands, Bella began to lose hope.
The Joining of Forces
THE AREA WAS COMMONLY referred to as the Cross. It was the intersection of borders that joined the kingdoms of Forris, Bore, and Skite. And although the Outland Post was clearly situated in Forie lands, it was less than a day’s ride over the Ora Path to the Cross, and Bore lands.
The Ora Path ran the length of the Outlands from the edges of Bore in the south to the edges of Tongar in the north. It was on this road that Cergio would make his way through the Cross and then north to join his armies with Zander’s.
King Zander, along with his men, had turned off the Hobble two days earlier, and were now approaching the Outland Post. There weren’t any significant trees in this area, only the carcasses of dead trees once living, and the Iron Trees which were now growing farther and farther into Forris. Jagged gray rocks protruded from the landscape and the tar pools, which they had now become accustomed to, were scattered about in greater numbers.
When they were within sight of the Outland Post, they were approached by two guards who had been keeping watch over the outlying areas, as well as the road. They seemed to come out of nowhere, riding out from behind a large gray rock, and Zander was quickly reminded of how vulnerable they were.
“Majesty, welcome to the Outland Post,” the first guard said. “We’ve been ordered to escort you to the post immediately upon your arrival. Something’s happened, and there are things that you need to see, sir.”
“What has happened?” Zander asked.
“I do not know all of the facts, Majesty. Will you come with me to hear the captain?”
“Yes, of course,” Zander replied. Turning to General Brask, he said, “Instruct your men to set camp near the post along the Ora, and come with me. We’ll both see what the captain has to say.”
****
Captain Winston Baines, like his father and father before him, had served in the Forie armies all of his life. He was older than the others at the post—much older. He had long ago passed the age that would have been customary for a soldier to retire from service, but he had no intention of withering away into retirement.
When King Zander walked into Captain Baines’ office, what he saw was a well-built man with thick white hair that hung over his collar in curls. He was standing in front of a window, looking down into the courtyard below.
“Majesty, welcome to the post,” he said, turning to the king and bowing.
“Captain,” Zander said, “you have some
thing to show me?”
“Yes, Majesty,” Baines replied. “We lost a guard two nights ago, killed in cold blood just outside the Outland gate.”
“Tell me everything that happened,” Zander said.
“He was found outside the gate during the shift change. Barlow found him—said it didn’t look like he struggled or fought back.”
He paused before continuing, “The odd thing of it, sir, is that whoever it was that killed him, they had to come from the Outlands. That’s the only way to that side of the gate.”
“No, Captain, that is not the only way,” Zander said. “I believe that you may have overlooked the obvious—your killer left through the gate—he did not arrive at it.”
Baines’ brows raised as he said, “Majesty, that would mean that he would have been known by the guard personally. I see no other reason why the guard would have taken him through the post.”
Zander did—he knew. Balki had cloaked.
“Captain, he was duped—your killer has the power to cloak,” Zander said.
He intentionally left out mention of the inflock. He thought their nerves had been rattled enough.
Captain Baines’ mouth opened wide with shock. Cloaking was so unheard of that the term itself lived on the edge of myth. It took only a moment for him to visualize the entire incident. He saw it clearly.
“Then there is this,” Baines said, after regaining his thoughts.
He picked up a sealed parchment from his desk. Zander could see dark red stains that he immediately took for blood. Handing the letter to Zander, Baines said,
“This was impaled into the young man’s chest, sir.”
At first, Zander only stared at the seal on the letter. It was black, but not just any black. The center of the seal looked as though it held black liquid. It swirled around in a circle inside the seal, with dark gray rippling through it.
Zander looked up at Baines curiously.
“It’s safe to the touch, Majesty,” Baines said, seeing Zander’s caution. “We’ve tried to open the letter, but the seal won’t break. We’ve tried everything we can think of. We’ve even taken a sledge to it. Also with no luck.”
“Have you tried cutting the seal out?” Zander asked.
“Yes Majesty, we have been unable to tear the parchment in any way.”
Zander looked back down at the letter. He had been holding it with both hands, and now with his right hand, he began slowly touching the seal. He ran his fingers over the swirling black, instinctively gliding his fingers over the seal in the opposite direction of the swirling liquid. He wasn’t sure why, but when he looked at the swirling liquid of the seal, he saw it as a lock that must be turned.
He then put both thumbs on the seal, and with surprisingly little pressure it easily broke into three pieces. The black swirling ceased at once and took the appearance of an ordinary wax seal.
Zander unfolded the parchment and, at first, saw nothing. It appeared blank. He stood dumfounded for a moment, until the words began to appear.
The words were written in a deep, dark red. But Zander could see that the words weren’t actually written at all, not really. The words were stained onto the parchment. And he somehow knew that if he touched the dark red letters, his fingers would come up moist, with what he perceived to be blood. He got the firm impression that what he was reading was actually a projection of thoughts—something projected to the parchment by some other being.
If you will have your queen, come unaided at full rise of moon. The weed will lead you.
She is with child.
The king stood silent for a moment. He read it again and then again once more. He finally looked up to General Brask, still not speaking, then turned his gaze back to the parchment, to find that it had changed during his brief glance to his General.
Come unaided or your queen and heir will die.
He was petrified with shock.
She carries my child! he thought, both terrified and elated at once. The conflict between joy and terror at the thought was nearly too much to bear.
“General, I will be leaving at the full rise of the moon—alone.”
There wasn’t even a brief consideration in the matter. His role was clear now. He must rescue his wife and child, even if it meant that his death was nearly certain.
****
General Brask had been solidly against the king venturing into the Outlands unescorted. Captain Baines had also been against it, but Zander had stood firmly by his decision. In fact, he was taken aback by their lack of understanding in the matter. His wife, the Queen of Forris, was being held captive. He would do nothing to jeopardize a chance at getting her back.
Once he had made it clear that he would not be swayed, he gave instructions to General Brask and Captain Baines that, should he not return, they should proceed without him. They were to meet with Cergio’s armies and fight—to the death if necessary.
The parchment, still in his hand, was clear once more, the writing (thoughts) entirely gone. He laid it down on the desk, and after a brief pause, turned to Captain Baines.
“What was his name?” he asked.
“Whose name, Majesty?”
“The guard. What was his name?”
“Fergus,” Baines replied. “Fergus Barber.”
“Was he married?”
“No Majesty, he was but a pup—nineteen years of age, if I’m not mistaken.”
Zander lowered his head for a moment, and then said, “General, see to it that young Barber’s mother and father, if they should be living, are compensated for their loss. He is to be considered a casualty of war.”
“Yes, Majesty, I will see to it.”
When Zander turned back to Captain Baines, he could see surprise on his face. It wasn’t surprise at the boy’s parents receiving compensation. It was surprise at the king’s use of the word war.
Zander realized then that Captain Baines had not been given the benefit of his speech at Obengaard. None of the guards stationed at the post had heard the king’s words of reassurance—and warning of things to come. They had been given details about the situation, although most of what Zander knew had come from the very post that they were presently standing in.
He looked at Captain Baines with a long-held expression that clearly conveyed, yes, do not be fooled—we are at war.
****
General Brask, continuing his opposition until the final moments, could be heard uttering that it is madness that he should go alone. Zander ignored his rumblings and only reminded him that the post must be protected and the armies on alert. An attack could come at any time.
He had no way to be sure if the Forris skull piece had been reunited with the other two pieces, but he suspected that it had not. Surely, there would have been a change—some calamity. There had been many signs of change, but most—if not all—could be blamed on the unity of the other two skull pieces that had been taken from Bore and Tongar. The appearance of the Dark Weed early on had told them that much from the beginning.
When Zander and his armies traveled during the dark hours, to avoid the brutal heat, he had begun carrying the staff that had been gifted to him by the fairies during his tour of Forris. The staff would emit a light that was both brighter and somehow more comfortable than any torch, and he had found that when he held the staff in his hand, he felt more at peace.
It wasn’t only that he felt at peace, though. He felt confident—his thinking more clear. It wasn’t a dramatic feeling, and would have gone unnoticed by him had he not seen the pattern that emerged the more he carried it.
Now, as he rested atop his horse, facing the Outlands under a moon that hung directly above him, he touched the staff reassuringly. It lay along the side of his horse, not to be used for this particular journey. He would not be summoning the light of the fairy staff when he met Balki (the inflock), but he would appreciate the comfort and confidence that it would provide him during such a task as he was now facing. He thought it wise not to give away knowledge
of such an object, if it could be helped, and would carry torches to light his way.
He rode into Skite, sword and staff at his side and torch in hand. He hadn’t been instructed as to direction, so he simply rode slowly into the darkness, looking for the Dark Weed to make its appearance and guide him.
****
When Lizabet, Dorian, and Pike reached the edge of the Hidden Forest, it was morning and the sun was rising. They had no way of knowing if they would step into darkness or daylight, and were now glad to see the sun again.
When they stepped out of the forest, it was like stepping out of a fortress. The trees to their left and right were organized in a dense wall against the barren wasteland where they now stood. They had reached the Outlands and came out of the forest not far from the Ora Path. After a long while of riding (Pike walked in long strides between them), they came to a bluff that overlooked the road. They could see Zander’s armies below them, amassed along the road for as far as they could see.
As they rode zigzag down the steep rocks, it didn’t take long before they were approached by two soldiers who had been patrolling the area around the soldier camps. They stopped their horses on the natural path that they had been following when they saw the men.
“Remain calm,” Lizabet said as the soldiers approached.
Pike, who had a sudden feeling that he had been caught in a crime, stepped back behind Lizabet’s horse and kept his head lowered.
“Good day, noble guards,” Lizabet said as they came within earshot. “How fortunate that we have stumbled upon you.”
“What business have you in these lands?” the first of the two men asked. It was clear that he enjoyed a higher rank.
“We are traveling from Obengaard to see the king,” Lizabet replied.
Both of the soldiers looked at each other and began to laugh.
“What will the king need with two children and a Loper?” the guard asked through dying laughter.
“Our business is our own, and we are not children,” Dorian said in a sharp tone. He did not like being referred to as a child and would not hold his tongue any longer. “You would be wise to take us to the king at once.”
