Jack Staples and the Poet's Storm

by Mark Batterson

  “I know you feel bad about leaving them behind,” Parker murmured, “but you must realize there was nothing you could have done. Give them time.”

  “Maybe …” Alexia shook her head. “But the Last Battle has begun. We don’t have time. According to the prophecy, Jack and I are meant to destroy the world soon. And how can anyone forgive that?”

  “How long have we been sleeping?” Josiah groaned as he sat up.

  “Probably three or four hours now,” Alexia said.

  “And you’ve been here the whole time?”

  “Most of it. We snuck out and found some more food and bandages.” She stood and offered Josiah some crusty bread and mildewed cheese. “Most of the food is rotten, but this is the best of it.”

  Josiah grabbed it and took a bite as the rest of the Gang of Rogues began to stir. Parker offered water, bread, and cheese to each of them.

  “So what’s this plan you were talking about?” Josiah wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “And what’s this about your mother?”

  “If she’s anything like your father, we should leave her in the dungeons and be done with it,” Juno said.

  “Juno!” Josiah said. “I get that you’re angry; we all are. But nobody deserves to be in these dungeons.”

  For a moment Juno met Josiah’s eyes defiantly, then looked away.

  “I was wrong about Korah,” Alexia said. “He wasn’t my father. He was my father’s twin brother. And I’m not certain that my mother is here, but if she is, it was Korah who brought her. I think he captured everyone I ever cared about and threw them into these dungeons.”

  Juno nodded. “I’m sorry. Josiah is right. Nobody deserves to be here.”

  “You have every right to hate me,” Alexia said. “But I hope you’ll be willing to forgive what I did and let us start again. I hope—”

  “You don’t need to apologize again,” Juno said. “We’ll do whatever we can to help you save your mother and the others.”

  Summer, Benaiah, and Adeline all nodded.

  “Thank you. Your friendship means everything to me,” Alexia said. “It won’t be easy, but I have a plan. How bad are your injuries? Will you be able to run when the time comes?”

  “How are you feeling, Summer?” Juno asked.

  “I think I’m strong enough.” Summer extended her arms and turned in a slow circle. Alexia gasped as tiredness and pain drained from her body. Adeline smiled as the gash in her shoulder mended itself, and Benaiah grinned as his bruises faded.

  “That was incredible!” Alexia gasped again.

  “Thank you.” Summer managed a tired-looking smile. She glanced at Josiah as she lay back down on the dungeon floor. “I think I need to rest awhile.” Within seconds, she was asleep.

  “Unfortunately, she can’t heal herself,” Josiah said. “And it takes a lot out of her. But, yes, it is amazing.”

  Alexia shared an unbelieving look with Parker. She felt as if she’d slept for days and eaten a warm meal besides. “We’re going to need a lot of wax. Any idea where they store the candles?”

  Benaiah nodded. “If you can get me out of here, yes.”

  “Good,” Alexia said. “Now for the hard part. The rest of you will need to speak to the prisoners. If this plan is going to work, every one of them will need to know about it beforehand.”

  Josiah scratched his chin in thought. “I’d bet most of them are back in the dirt. The Shadule wanted us handy so it could question us.”

  Most of the prisoners weren’t kept inside dungeons. They were made to crawl into small mounds dug into the dirt, which worked both as a prison and a grave. If the Awakened died while in the mounds, their bodies were sealed inside.

  “Adeline, if we can get you in the middle of them, do you think you can work your trick?” Josiah asked.

  “Just tell me what they need to know, and I’ll do my best,” Adeline said.

  “What trick?” Alexia asked. But Adeline just smiled at her. “Wait, how did you just …?” Adeline hadn’t said a word, yet her voice had sounded in Alexia’s mind. Alexia laughed. “That will come in very handy indeed.”

  “Where are we?” Sage croaked. Her eyes were open.

  “I don’t know,” Arthur whispered. He knelt beside her, gazing into a valley. “But don’t talk too loud. There’s some kind of army camped just below. It’s too dark to see if they’re Awakened or Shadow Souled.” Sweat poured from Arthur, and his arms and shoulders burned like fire. Carrying Sage for so long had taken the last energy he had. Now that they’d stopped, he was certain he wouldn’t be able to pick her up again.

  Sage groaned. “How long have I been out?”

  “We left the Quagmire two days ago,” Aliyah whispered.

  Arthur dropped to his back as the world seemed to spin.

  Sage sat up with a look of surprise. “And he’s been carrying me?”

  Aliyah nodded as she offered her sister a skin of water. “I’ve never seen anything like it. I’m so tired I can hardly stand, but Arthur carried you every step of the way. And we’ve barely stopped since leaving the Quagmire.”

  Arthur was far too tired to be embarrassed. In truth, he was also surprised they’d made it so far. He suspected his endurance might have had something to do with the Poet’s Coffer. The box was warm against his chest and seemed to radiate energy.

  “And what of King Edward and Mr. Staples?” Sage searched the surrounding darkness.

  “You don’t remember?” Aliyah asked.

  Sage rubbed her eyes. “I don’t remember much.”

  “They gave their lives to get us out,” Aliyah said. “We’ve been running ever since.”

  Sage exhaled a long breath. “I can’t believe it,” she whispered. She struggled to her feet and gazed into the valley below. “And the coffer?”

  “Arthur has it. Mr. Staples gave it to him just before he died.”

  “You both stay here,” Sage said. “You’ve already done the impossible. I’m going to find out who’s camped below.”

  It took Arthur a moment to understand her words, and by the time he did, she was already gone. No, it’s not safe! The thought formed slowly. It must be the Assassin’s army. Why would the Awakened be gathering in the middle of nowhere? Yet he was far too exhausted to move. He closed his eyes and fell into a deep sleep.

  When Arthur opened his eyes, he saw a man kneeling over him with a torch in his hand. Sage stood beside him. Arthur tried to speak, but nothing came. He was dimly aware of the man handing Sage the torch and picking him up.

  “What he needs now is rest,” the man said. “I’m so glad you three have finally come! We’ve been waiting nearly a week, and I was beginning to wonder if we were in the right place.”

  Arthur wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly. The man couldn’t have been waiting for them. How could he have been? Arthur didn’t even know where they were. Yet even as the thoughts formed, his eyes closed and darkness came.

  “It’s no that I be disagreeing with yer plan,” Andreal said, “but how do we be fighting shadows and blood? Give me a beast, and I will cut it down. Give me a hundred, and I will enjoy meself. But what use is my ax against shadows?”

  “We must learn how to fight them,” Jack said. “You were in the City of Shadows. You saw what it was like. I’m beginning to realize this battle isn’t against the Assassin’s servants. If we can’t figure out how to defeat the evil itself, the war is already lost. The Assassin is our true enemy.”

  “Even if you’re right, what does it mean?” Wild asked. “How do we fight the blood?”

  “I fought it while I was in the schoolhouse. It wasn’t like a battle with a sword, but it was a battle as real as any I’ve seen.”

  “What do we know about the darkness so far?” Honi said. “Gratefulness cuts through it like an ax through a twig. Is it possible it’s that simple?
”

  Andreal snorted. “I’d be liking to see you stand against a Shadule with nothing but yer gratefulness.”

  “Do not worry, my friend,” Honi said. “Your ax will still be needed. But I think Jack is onto something. It may not be a physical weapon that destroys our true enemy.”

  “Nothing can destroy it,” Jonty said. “The Masters make us stand in the blood for hours every day. Sometimes we’re made to sleep on it. The nightmares …” He shuddered.

  “They are not your Masters anymore,” Honi said. “No darkness can resist the light forever.”

  Jonty groaned. “You’re seriously talking about just the four of you attacking the town?”

  “No”—Andreal placed his massive hand on Jonty’s shoulder—“there do be five of us now!”

  “There are hundreds of Slaves and Pawns in Ballylesson, and probably fifty Masters and at least thirty Owners.” Jonty’s eyes were wide and unblinking. “I’d bet there are almost a thousand all told. Not including the blood. You cannot win! If we don’t flee, every one of us will die!”

  “Death is merely a new beginning,” Honi said. “And though I do not seek it, I will embrace it when the time comes.”

  Jonty held his head in his hands and began to cry. Jack shared an unbelieving look with Wild. Everything Jonty says makes me feel dirty. He shivered at the way the Shadow Army ranked its members. Slaves, Pawns, Masters, Owners. Why would anyone choose to serve the Assassin?

  A thought struck Jack and he suddenly understood the nature of bullies. He spoke carefully so as not to hurt Jonty’s feelings. And he began to formulate a plan.

  “Strength and numbers aren’t always the most important,” he said slowly. “It can help, but I’ve seen the few defeat the many over and again. The Assassin is a bully, and bullies rule by strength and fear. You should know that more than most, Jonty.”

  Jonty didn’t meet Jack’s eyes. He stared into the fire as if lost in dark thoughts.

  “Do you remember the one time you didn’t win? It was snowing. You tried to bully Arthur and me, but you left without doing anything.”

  “I remember.” Jonty brushed away tears. “I tried to take your coat. I was jealous because I knew your mother had made it for you, and my mother never made me anything.”

  Jack knew Jonty was embarrassed of his mother. Everyone in Ballylesson used to talk about her. She drank all the time and screamed crazy things at anyone who passed her house.

  “That’s right,” Jack said. “You demanded my coat, but I’d seen yours a few days earlier. It was old and torn. I knew you would try to take my coat eventually, so I asked my mother to make another. When you demanded mine, I offered you a brand-new coat made just for you.”

  Jonty nodded. “I’ve thought about that day many times. It may be the reason I’m here now. It was the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.” Jonty scrubbed at fresh tears. “But what does that have to do with attacking Ballylesson?”

  “After I gave you the coat, you stopped bullying everyone. Eventually you started again, but you were never quite as mean as before.”

  Jonty lowered his head. “I’m sorry. I was jealous, and you have every right to hate me.”

  “I don’t hate you. I never did. I feared you, but that’s different. I think all bullies are the same. Give them what they don’t expect, and they don’t know what to do. This battle isn’t about strength and numbers. It’s about something else altogether.”

  “So you want to offer a Shadule your coat?” Wild asked.

  Jack laughed. “No, but I may have an idea of how we can win this fight.”

  Chapter 15

  The Star Child

  Alexia sat high atop a roof in the City of Shadows. The roof was a gaudy thing with silver-plated shingles, a diamond-studded chimney and walls of gold. She surveyed the devastation from the battle that had ended earlier. By her estimation, nearly one-quarter of the city had been destroyed.

  She tried not to inhale the stench. Beneath the gold plating that covered the city, something was festering. No matter how many gems you throw on a dung heap, it’s still a dung heap. She wanted to cover her nose, yet she knew it wouldn’t do any good.

  She brought her attention back to what mattered. Just below, the Assassin stood atop a platform in the midst of the rubble. Thousands upon thousands of fierce-looking Shadow Souled surrounded him. They watched their master with fear-filled eyes. Belial kept a hand pressed tightly against the new wound in his side, yet black blood still dripped from between his fingers. The Assassin’s diamond skin was glossy beneath the sweat that seeped from his every pore, and madness raged in his flaming eyes.

  “You have failed me!” His voice was the sound of a beetle-infested carcass. The Shadow Souled stood in absolute silence. “The Children of Prophecy have stolen the Deceiver’s Coffer.”

  Startled gasps erupted from the army.

  The Assassin was pale and grimacing. “You will find them. You will bring me both of the children, and you will bring me the coffer!” A roar erupted from the Shadow Army.

  The Assassin pointed into the midst of those gathered before him. “Come,” he said. A metallic vapor seeped from the ground as the surrounding dark servants shrank back. With the vapor came a thunderous groaning.

  “COME!” the Assassin roared. The nearby torches flickered and dimmed as the vapor coalesced into the shape of a dripping monster. Its skin was rippling black metal, and a number of eyes ringed its skull.

  “The Odius,” Alexia whispered. The creature had taken many forms at the circus, but its true form was frightening beyond words. The Odius raised its gruesome head and howled at the moon.

  “Odius, the shadow god, will lead this hunt,” the Assassin said. His army was utterly still, and every face was filled with terror. “For every hour the Children of Prophecy remain alive and the Deceiver’s Coffer is not in my possession, for every hour I am made to wait, you will be punished.” The Assassin spoke to the Odius. “You will consume ten of my followers every hour until your return.” The Assassin’s eyes flamed brightly.

  The dark servants shrank back like wounded dogs. Even the Odius watched its master cautiously.

  “In this hunt you will carry only your weapons. You will not eat or sleep until the hunt is over. Only the strongest will survive in my army.” The Assassin threw his arms high. “Go! And do not fail me.”

  Alexia’s stomach churned. He’s forcing them to starve until they catch us? No wonder we couldn’t lose them; their terror kept them going.

  The Odius raised its head and howled again, its rippling skin contorting into the shape of a winged wolf. It leaped into the air and disappeared into the night. Ten thousand Shadow Souled rose to follow the creature. Some flew; others rode atop winged beasts. For a moment the sky was black.

  Once the dark army was gone, the Assassin turned to the dark servants still lining the streets. “Burn the dead and kill every prisoner. The Last Battle has begun, and there will be no mercy.”

  The hordes shrieked in delight, dancing amid the rubble.

  “No!” Alexia whispered. If she’d known the prisoners would be killed after she escaped, she never would have left! Then I’d have died too, she thought, and I’d never have been able to come back to save them.

  The Assassin stepped onto a small, gaudy throne and sat. More than a hundred creatures hoisted the throne onto their shoulders. “Go,” the Assassin snarled. As one, the creatures stepped forward, carrying him toward the palace.

  Alexia let out a relieved breath. She needed the Assassin to be away if her plan had any hope of succeeding. The low-hanging sun cast long shadows, making it hard to see clearly in a city of slithering darkness. There! She spotted Benaiah waiting just inside the arena. A moment later she found Adeline, Summer, and Parker standing in the midst of the gathered throngs. Parker had a very large crate strapped to his back, and all
wore the soiled black-and-silver cloaks of the Shadow Souled.

  Alexia decided she couldn’t wait any longer. They’re going down to kill the prisoners. She stood and waved to Benaiah. He immediately turned to signal the prisoners waiting in the corridors behind him. Next she signaled Parker, who took the crate from his back and placed it on the ground. Adeline and Summer kept watch, but none of the surrounding dark servants seemed to care what they were doing. Parker knelt by the cage as Alexia reached into her cloak and grabbed a small clump of wax.

  Josiah and Juno were already at the palace searching for her mother, and Alexia wanted to join them as soon as possible. But she wouldn’t leave until she was sure her plan was working. Parker stood beside the crate and nodded.

  She’d once heard Aias say even the best-laid plans lasted barely a minute before a new one had to be made. This is the only plan I’ve got, she thought. If it doesn’t work, we’re all dead. Alexia climbed atop the chimney. She took a deep breath. “Shadow Souled!” she screamed. Every eye turned upward to stare at the girl in the crimson cloak. “It is good to see you again.” She curtsied. “I am Alexia Dreager, one of the Children of Prophecy. I will give you one chance to lay down your arms and surrender. Do it now, and I promise mercy—”

  “It’s the girl!” The dark servants squinted up at her.

  “We must kill her!” one snarled.

  “The master will give us a great reward!” a creature shrieked.

  The dark army surged forward. Alexia broke the chunk of wax in two, then pressed it deep into both ears. Her eyes stayed glued to Parker, who opened the steel crate, then stepped away.

  Nothing happened. “Oh no!” she breathed. Her entire plan hinged on what she’d heard after the Myzerahl attack outside London. Arthur Greaves had asked Mrs. Dumphry about the dark servants. She had said, “Dark servants never travel with the bird for they, too, would be caught in its song. They send it ahead and follow far behind.”