by Ivory Autumn
Andrew squinted and looked at the scroll, mystified. Except for the note of introduction, it was entirely empty of words. He read the first part again, putting his hands close to the paper, hoping the light from them would illuminate something that he hadn’t seen. Still, he saw nothing. He let out a low murmur of disgust and made a move to crumple up the paper. Just as the shape on his hand came into contact with the inside of the parchment, the scroll lit up with little crescent moons and stars, like stamps of glowing silver, and brilliant words appeared in elegant writ, over its entire surface.
~~~~
Chapter Two
Hands Out
Before Andrew could read the words on the scroll, the sounds of angry shouts and hissings were heard behind him.
“Over there,” voices cried. “The boy ran over there! See that light? It’s him.”
Andrew gasped, and swiftly rolled up the bright scroll, stuffed it back into his pack, and turned to flee. But he tripped on a stray root and fell, his fingers and face plowing into the earth. The instant his hands clawed the earth, the field of hollyhocks was hit by a blast of heat, turning the entire field brown, exposing him to his enemies.
“There he is!” the voices shouted. “Grab him before he escapes.”
Andrew turned and ran through the brown field, down a dark path, and over to a giant tree that he used whenever he had gotten into trouble and needed a place to hide. He pounded on the tree with his fists, like a door he was trying to break down. “Come on!” he cried. “Let me up.”
The tree refused to bend its branches and hoist him up to safety. “What’s wrong with you?” he shouted, clawing his way desperately up its trunk on his own, just managing to get to safety as the Sontars crept underneath it, hissing and spitting, their glowing eyes flickering in the darkness.
“Boy,” they hissed. “We know you are here, somewhere.”
“We just want you. Only you. If you don’t give yourself up, we will take and kill all the firstborn of your Hollow.”
The Sontars sniffed, flicking out their cloven tongues as they circled round the tree. They looked as if they were about to clamber up the tree, but a voice called to them from behind. “I think we’ve found the boy. Come, see.”
A Sontar guard, cracked his whip over a long row of children chained at the wrists, moving in a line past the tree, with a congregation of frightened mothers and fathers wailing after them.
“Which one is it?” The captain wondered. He had a large chain hanging around the neck, with bones dangling from it, and a double bladed sword in his hands. He hissed, eyeing the row of children with eager eyes.
A Sontar with a whip, yelled out a command, and all the children held out their hands for the Sontars to inspect. When the Sontar guard came to Freddie, he yanked him from the row of boys and made him kneel with his palms held out. “It’s this one. I’m s-s-sure of it.”
The Sontar captain stepped over to Freddie, the bones dangling round his neck clicking together as he walked. He flicked his tongue in Freddie’s face, tasting the air, and inspecting the boy’s hands. There was nothing remarkable about Freddie’s palms, except for the fact that they had funny looking calluses on them. “Fool,” the Sontar captain told his guard, angrily shoving Freddie back into the line. “You idiot, it’s not him!”
The Sontar with the whip hung his head. “I’m s-s-s-orry.”
“S-s-orry doesn’t cut it. I want the boy, and I want him now!” The captain turned to the group of frightened parents. “People, if the boy with the strange markings in his hands is not found within the hour, I will be forced to kill your children before your eyes.”
The Sontars drew their swords, holding them above the children’s heads, ready to carry out the order in an instant, causing the parents to weep and moan.
“Wait, wait! I know this boy,” a woman from the crowd howled. “It is Andrew you seek. Andrew!”
A Sontar pulled the woman from the crowd and dumped her before their captain.
Andrew gasped as he spied the woman. It was his old teacher. Mrs. Smithers. He should have guessed. She’d be the one to give him up.
“Yes,” she went on hysterically, ignoring the pleading look on the faces of Andrew’s parents, who stood in the crowd watching fearfully. “Those are his parents.” She pointed to Mr. and Mrs. Griggs. “They have probably hidden him.”
Andrew’s parents were brought before the captain, and questioned. “Tell us where you have hidden him!” the captain cried, shaking Andrew’s mother violently. Or I will kill all the children, one by one, until you confess.”
“Please, no,” his mother wept. “I cannot tell you where he is.”
“TELL ME!”
“I will not!”
The Sontar hissed, and shook Mrs. Grigss. “If you won’t tell me, then perhaps the boy’s friends will. Your boy surely had friends among these lads. Which ones of these children were his friends?” He pointed to the long row of children.
Andrew’s mother made no answer.
“Tell me, woman, which one?”
“Never.”
He turned to Andrew’s father. “Tell me, or I shall be forced to kill your wife!”
Horrified by the thought, Andrew’s teacher, Mrs. Smithers, burst from the crowd and let out a shrill wail, pointing to Freddie and Talic. “Those two were Andrew’s only friends. I know, because nobody else liked him. He was always putting stinging nettle in the other children’s britches.”
The Sontar Captain hissed, pushed Mrs. Smithers aside, and yanked both boys into view. “Tell me, boys, where is your friend?
Freddie and Talic cowered before the Sontar. Tears gleamed in Talic’s eyes.
“Fine, if no one can tell me where the boy is. We’ll start by killing his friends first, and then move on, one by one until the boy is found.”
“Is this boy we seek so much more important to you all than all your children put together?” the Sontar captain shouted, raising his sword over Freddie’s head. Just as he was about to let his sword fall, Andrew crashed down from the tree above, right on top of Freddie.
“No. Wait!” Andrew cried, “Don’t hurt anybody. I’m the one you’re looking for…I think.”
“You think?”
Andrew was violently yanked to his feet, and his palms forced open. The diamond marks in them cast a brilliant light over their faces, causing those watching to squint because of the brightness. The townspeople watching the scene gasped in fright. “It is him!” the captain shouted, “We’ve found what we’ve been looking for. Chain him to the row of children. Now let’s go.”
Mrs. Smithers, let out a wail. “Didn’t I say that boy would bring our village to ruin? Didn’t I say?”
Andrew hung his head in shame. He couldn’t believe that he was the one responsible for all this---Tromberg’s burning. He couldn’t understand why.
“Wait,” Andrew cried.
“You have to let the others go.”
“Let them go? Ha, ha, very funny. Not possible. The Lord of the North has made a treaty with your new king of Danspire, to give the firstborn of every city into slavery. Your friends are now property of the state. Voluntary slaves, for the good of your country. And as for you…you are to be taken into the custody of the great Lord of the North himself.”
“But why?”
“For crimes you have committed.”
“Crimes? What crimes?”
The Sontar laughed. “What crimes, you ask? The very act of your kind being alive is a crime. Your very existence on this earth is an offense to all mankind.”
“My kind?” Andrew wondered. “What do you mean?”
“It doessssn’t mater. What matters is that you will soon be dead.” The Sontar hissed, and licked his chops, looking evil and demonic, turning away and vanishing into the host of Sontars. The Sontars looked like men whose skin had turned into hard scales. They were dressed in black and had slashes of dark pigment across their eyes, like a black check mark. Long, stringy, black hair hung o
ver their faces and their eyes had eyelids that closed sideways over red pupils.
“Now, take them away!” the Captain thundered.
“No!” Andrew yelled, kicking wildly against the Sontar’s grip, unexpectedly breaking free. The Sontar reached out, and clutched the pack on Andrew’s back, ripping it from him, tossing it away.
Andrew stopped in his tracks and turned around to pick it up, but the Sontar grabbed him by the arm and jerked him violently back, chaining him to the row of children.
“Move!” the Sontar cried, cracking his whip on Andrew’s back, causing him to gasp in pain. The children slowly trudged forward through the dark night as the frightening sounds of thunder pealed through the air, and flashes of purple lightning cut through the ominous sky. They were shoved down the road where Sontars, who were still jerking children from their beds, and sons from their mothers, filled the streets. Everywhere, screams and haunting sorrowful howls assaulted their ears.
“No!” Andrew’s mother cried, running after the row of chained children. “Let my boy go! Let him go!”
The Sontar laughed, knocking his mother senseless to the ground.
“You take my boy, now you hurt my wife!” Andrew’s father shouted, coming at the Sontars with a club. The Sontars hissed like wild cats, and effortlessly knocked Andrew’s father unconscious, to the ground.
“Father,” Andrew cried, struggling to break free, feeling the iron chains dig into his wrists as he struggled to reach his prostrate parents. “Let me go! Or I swear that I’ll call on the trees to crush you all with their roots.”
“Call on the treessss to crusssh usss with their rootsss?” The Sontar captain sneered. “I would love sssee you try.” He called the procession to a halt and beckoned for Andrew to begin.
Eyeing the Sontar with a look of unyielding pride, and extreme hate, Andrew knelt down, and dug his chained hands through the muddy earth. He closed his eyes, and breathed in deeply, calling on every plant and tree in the Hollow to his aid with every fiber in his being.
He waited. The Sontar’s gawked, and hissed in great amusement.
Still nothing happened. The Hollow was silent. The usual hum and gossip of the old trees that filled the hollow was hushed. Even the weed that had pestered him while he was painting had grown silent. It was as if they all had forsaken him.
“Enough!” The Sontar captain barked, hoisting Andrew to his feet and shoving him forward. “You are nothing. You and your kind have no power.” He hissed, and speaking to the crowd of children, he raised his ugly arms and said. “Let it be known, that this boy, yes this boy, has caused a great misfortune to befall upon you all. For had he given himself up ssssooner, it would not be ssso. But because of his arrogance, and because your Hollow hasss hidden his kind, it will be burned to the ground, so that all may know that hiding such dark creatures means death!”
At his words, a woeful moan ran through the procession of children, as Sontars ran through the Hollow torching their homes.
“Get moving, you ssslavess!” the Sontar guard cried, cracking his whip across the children’s backs. “Move, or taste the end of my whip!”
Andrew took one last look at his burning village, tears filling his eyes. Why was this happening? Why hadn’t the trees heard his call for help? What kind of being was he, that he could cause his whole village to be burned to ashes? His pack, laden with the mysterious items were mashed into the ground, the ruby compass broken, and the scroll crumpled in the mud. Andrew clenched his fists, and held back a choking sob as they trudged through the mud in the drenching rain. Those who had not been assaulted or killed in the defense of their children, stood on their porch steps, weeping and glaring at Andrew with distain in their eyes. Their peaceful lives, and their untouched Hollow, had been desecrated.
Freddie was chained, not far from Andrew. His cheeks were smudged with dirt, blood, and tears. His sandy blond hair stuck up in places, and his solid frame drooped. Andrew could also see Talic tethered to the long row of children. His dark eyes looked empty, and his black hair was pushed up onto one side like it always was, even in the pelting rain. He was whimpering like a small child, and shivering uncontrollably.
“Get moving you ssslobs!” the biggest Sontar barked, poking the slaves with a long stick. Andrew picked up his pace, trying to avoid getting whacked with the jagged stick that had pieces of glass embedded in it.
Andrew scowled. The Sontars were horrible beasts. Their cloven tongues were continually flicking in and out of their mouths, and they were constantly burping like their digestive systems were under assault.
The Sontars led them through the town of Tromburg, or what was left of it. The rain had put out most of the fires, but many of the blackened boards of the houses were still smoldering. A dark sludge of soot drizzled into the muddy streets. A lone man, holding a shovel covered in soot, stood before a smoldering building, looking dazed.
All that was left of the beautiful city were the frames of burnt out houses, with chimneys and a few odd boards left standing. There was no sign of life, no sound. Only the drizzle of rain.
At the sad sight, many of the slaves started sobbing loudly.
“Shut up!” a Sontar snapped, cracking a whip over their backs. The whimpers died down to low sobs. At the far end of Tromburg, the procession of slaves joined three more, all heavily guarded by Sontars.
On through the night they pressed, into a new day, just as dreary as the day before, past Tromburg, and into new country that Andrew had never seen before. They were led across a grimy bridge, under which a small trickle of water flowed, to a hilly, moorish land. On all sides of them, small wildflowers grew on red dirt, and great hills and valleys spread out before them, like a royal carpet. A cool north wind blew the smell of damp earth and rain into the travelers’ nostrils. Andrew shivered. He was getting hungry and thirsty. The Sontars had kept them marching for how many hours, he couldn’t tell. When he thought he couldn’t go on any longer, the Sontars called out, “Haltssss!”
Andrew gladly slumped to the ground, exhausted. He looked at the long row of tired prisoners, and tried to comfort a small child next to him, who was crying. He rubbed the child's hands in his own and pulled him into a hug. In an effort to still the crying child, he sang a low song until the small boy fell asleep in his lap.
“Andrew,” Freddie whispered. “Everything has been so blurry, day and night seems to be one in the same, that I nearly forgot it was your Birthday. For what it’s worth, Happy Birthday. Though it seems rather rude, I am glad it’s finally at an end. Look how the sun sets, it even looks tired, like it’s glad the day is over.”
“Yeah,” Talic agreed, joining the conversation and scooting as close to Freddie and Andrew as his bonds would allow. “Me too.” He forced a fake grin. “No Birthday could ever have been as bad as yours.”
“Yeah,” Andrew murmured. “I think you’re right. Never really spent my birthday quite like this.”
Freddie glanced spitefully behind him at the Sontars. “Those grimy beast will be sorry once the army of Danspire catches up with them.”
A Sontar who’d heard Freddie's comment, hissed in disgust. “Dansssspire is our ally, you fool! Lucky for Danspire, the new king’s smart enough to agree to the Lord of the North’s conditions of peace. Soon all other kingdoms will follow their example or pay the price.”
“What price?”
“Total annihilation,” the Sontar retorted.
“Some terms of peace this is,” Freddie murmured, turning his back on the Sontar.
“Who would have ever thought,” Talic said, pulling at his chains, “that we'd be slaves of serpents.”
Andrew quietly listened to his friends talk as he leaned his back against a rock, rubbing his aching hands, clenching them tightly. But more than the ach of his hands, his soul throbbed with guilt, and confusion. The Sontar had said that he, and his kind had caused his beautiful Hollow to be burned. But what was his kind? He was now terrible in all the eyes of the children.
/> “Talic…Freddie,” Andrew murmured, unable to look his friends in the eyes. “Do you hate me?”
Freddie looked confused. “Why would we hate you?”
“Yeah, man,” Talic retorted. “Why?”
“Why? Because our whole village was burned to the ground because of me, and you ask why?”
Freddie’s eyes filled with sadness, and he forced a grin, “Andrew, you saw what they did to Tromburg, and you weren’t living there. They just used those weird marks in your hand as an excuse to blame you for what they were already planning on doing.”
“I agree,” Talic murmured. “Though I thought it a bit weird, you threatening to crush them with the roots of trees. It would have been pretty neat if you could have really done that. Not that it would be possible. Still it’s a nice thought.”
“Yeah,” Andrew murmured, “I guess it was a little weird…”
After that, they all huddled as close to each other as the chains would allow, falling into an uncomfortable sleep.
In the middle of the night, Andrew awoke with a start. His hands ached all the way up through his neck, glowing too bright for him to sleep. He felt as though something or someone was watching him. Someone besides the Sontars, whose eyes were always upon them.
The north wind blew through the nearby trees and rattled the branches. He peered deeper into the foliage, but there was nothing to be seen. The strange feeling didn't leave, though. He shook Freddie. “Freddie. Wake up.”
Freddie groaned, turned over and yawned. “What is it?”
“Something’s out there...watching us.”
