The Silver Sphere

by Michael Dadich

  "You mean the Cark Forest with all those creepy little men?"

  "Aye, the Bogmen. We can't go there alone, though; too dangerous. Besides, he may not have meant Tomb Valley. We need to trek down the river a bit more. I passed a large encampment of Meridian soldiers on the way upriver. With any luck, they're still camping there."

  Zach decided to lie back down and gaze at the sky as the boat chugged along. The blue heavens offered occasional spurts of marshmallow clouds. He drew in a deep breath of clean air. The aroma was of the river, fishy, warm, and sweet from the gurgling flow of fresh water.

  The throbbing in his skull subsided and he sat up.

  Throg smiled. "Head better now, laddie? The transmissions will become easier as you get more of them. It's a good sign. Your link is attempting to reach you, and he must be strong to do so. Keep quiet a bit now. This particular part of the river sports some surly types."

  They glided on for a couple miles. Throg slowed the boat and steered to the east bank. A few bugs swarmed nearby and Zach swatted at them. Gnats kept flying around his head.

  Throg whispered, "This is the last place the Meridian Brigade encamped when I traveled this way the other day. I stopped in and had some chud and tea with them. The captain's name is Spiro."

  Smoke billowed through the air, hugging the treetops. They drew nearer and viewed flames dancing along the shoreline. Burning tents mixed with the fishy river—Zach's brow creased.

  "Heathens," grumbled Throg.

  The boat pulled up to the rocky shore and Throg leapt over the side and tied the vessel down to a thick bush. The camp had been pillaged. Several bloody figures dressed in armor lay still.

  Zach stood stunned, eyes wide; he'd only seen dead bodies on television or in video games. Those men in the mud had once been alive. Flies danced around the mouth of one soldier.

  "Stay on the dang boat, Zach. Should I not return soon, don't come looking for me. Steer the boat straight down the river. Stop before the Invunche Lake and walk east to the Dorado Path. The course will lead you to Meracuse, Meridia's capital."

  "No, I'm coming with you. I don't know w-where to go. I'd get lost in these w-woods without y-you."

  "Laddie, take a quick peek. Someone slaughtered this brigade. Meridia is my home. I need to find out who did this, and I'm not bringing you. Understand?"

  Zach nodded, but he hated being left alone. He hoped Throg wouldn't be gone long.

  Throg strode into the encampment. Several of the Meridian soldiers still had their swords holstered. Most of them had been butchered in their sleep. To the left, a Meridian lay with his throat slit—like a sick, red grin.

  Throg forged on through the grim setting. Someone moaned to his right, and he dashed over to the downed soldier.

  The warrior stirred.

  Throg turned the man over and put his canteen to the wounded soldier's lips. The man guzzled, opened his eyes, and looked into Throg's. Death was in his blue gaze. He had a black mole under his chin and a thick blond beard.

  "Y-you are Throg. You w-were here the other d-day."

  "Yes, I'm sorry, soldier. I was not present to fight by your side."

  The fallen warrior gurgled, then grasped the canteen and poured water over his face. Otherwise, he did not move. His left arm was mangled. Slick blood wept from beneath the plated steel he wore.

  "Many of your brigade's weapons were not drawn," Throg said in a clear, deliberate manner.

  "Aye, Throg, it w-was... they w-wore the a-armor of N-Nightlanders. They were as s-silent as l-legend says. That m-means...." The trooper gasped for air.

  "I understand, soldier. Biskara's son. It has begun again."

  "Then G-God-speed, dear Th-Throg. Do not let our d-deaths be in vain. You must w-warn Lord Achernar."

  The soldier coughed, a spray of blood coming up. His eyes closed, and Throg knew it would be for the last time. The body went limp in his arms.

  Throg set some chud on the man's breastplate and said a prayer over the soldier, "May Horologium be your guide and your shield, the truth seekers your armor, and Eridanus give you wisdom." He unfastened the dead man's sword and walked back toward the boat.

  Grim remorse settled over him. These soldiers were friends of his. Families would miss them, but he could not spare time to bury any of them. Nightlanders were in the area. He had to get Zach to safety, and fast. No telling when a Nightlander might strike.

  He approached the craft and Zach's head popped up.

  "Who did this?" Zach asked, sounding rattled.

  "The Nightlanders. They've returned."

  "W-what?"

  "What we spoke about earlier—that you are a Kin and Biskara returning—is true. The Nightlanders are wearing armor, which means they are ready to battle. They would never do such a thing unless they were close to full power. The skills they possess, coming into a Meridian Brigade camp undetected, and your presence, can only mean they are back and will come again."

  "What now?"

  "Here is a good soldier's sword. He was about your size, and I possess few extra weapons."

  He handed the sword to Zach, who paused before accepting the gift. Throg watched the Kin hold the hilt across his body with both hands and study it. The scabbard had been stained with blood, but the blade shimmered clean.

  "I need to go through the area now to make sure I do not leave any survivors behind. Stay low and keep the sword ready. I will return in a short time." He turned and started back toward the camp.

  "Throg?"

  "Yes?"

  "I've never held a sword before."

  "Don't worry. We've all lived other lives."

  Throg gazed at the scattered bodies and burning soil, and pursued the dreary business of confirming no one remained alive. He made his way through the camp, inspecting each body, and pulled a piece of chalk out of a pouch on his belt to mark the armored bodies as he moved along. After he was done, he counted fifty-three fallen.

  Not one had a pulse.

  Some are missing, he thought. At least sixty men had been in camp when he'd supped with them. Captain Spiro had not been among the dead, either, which heartened him a little. Perhaps his companion had escaped.

  Another option loomed. Spiro may not have been with his men. The Nightlanders may have captured him and taken him for questioning. Such an outcome would not have surprised Throg. The thought made him sick with fear for his friend. He removed a piece of chud from his satchel for each of the fallen men, and rested it on their chests or in their hands. They would need it in the afterlife.

  His work done, he returned to the boat.

  Zach leapt over the side to meet him. The Kin didn't say anything as he helped Throg untie the vessel. Zach took the rope from him and wound it.

  "Get on," said Throg.

  Zach nodded and hopped inside.

  Throg paused, giving one last look at the destroyed camp and dead bodies. Would that he had time to bury them, but with Nightlanders on the move, they couldn't afford to stop for long. With a heavy heart, he pushed the boat out to the river and hoisted himself aboard.

  "I'm not quite sure what to say," Zach mumbled.

  "Nothing to say. I was hoping we would have more time to organize, to get back to Lord Achernar, and reunite with your Kin. The Nightlanders have wiped out a Meridian Brigade. We are at war. I'm not certain who's in charge of this army of the Nightlanders, but I recall last year a fellow by the name of Malefic Cacoethes creating quite a stir up in the Canopus Hills. I heard his name a few times when I stopped to sup with Meridian soldiers, but I sensed no fear of a Nightlander uprising."

  He paused. "We'll need to abandon the boat soon. This river is a main path and leads to the Invunche Lake. Both are too easy for an ambush. Time to go on foot."

  "How dangerous are these woods?"

  "Well, outside of the prowling Nightlanders, the woodland is as perilous as any on Earth. Instead of bears, the wealds offer some other creatures, monsters and such, which we need to avoid. Not like the Ca
rk, of course, but we must be careful just the same."

  They traveled without speaking for a while. Several Pegasi erupted from the brush to the right. They neighed, their bright white wings flapping as they soared into the woods. Half a dozen otter-like mammals emerged to the left, scrambled to land, and scampered away.

  "Something's out there," Throg whispered, raising his brow.

  They cruised a few more minutes. Disliking the silence, Throg shifted. He grabbed one of his weapons, a sturdy long-shafted pike, and scanned the thick brush on the east shore of the river.

  "There's a good spot to cast," he said and pointed to a clearing ahead. He steered toward the place.

  The boat jerked and knocked Zach to the floor.

  "Dang it all. A wishpoosh," Throg called out in disgust.

  "A... a w-wishpoosh?"

  "A man-eater. We need to get to shore, now!"

  "How can you tell? I can't see anything," Zach said as the craft continued to shake.

  Throg couldn't reply. A loud crunch echoed as the vessel flipped over and they were hurled into the cold river.

  Zach struggled back up to the surface and spat out a mouthful of water, grateful the river was calm as he swam to land. He still held to the heavy sword Throg had given him, and considered dropping it since the blade weighed him down, but then he pictured a giant man-eating monster and decided otherwise. Besides, he didn't know what was waiting for him on shore.

  Every stroke was more difficult than the last. Water sluiced into his mouth, making him cough. Finally, he squished into the muddy bottom beneath his shoes. He slipped and sank with each step. Out of breath and exhausted, he made it ashore.

  He turned in the mud and spotted the capsized boat floating away. He scanned the murky water and found Throg paddling across the river. Zach stood and hurried over to where his friend would beach. He waded out and offered a hand to Throg.

  The wishpoosh thrashed close behind, snapping its huge fangs and lifting claws the size of hunting knives as it surfaced just yards from the shore.

  "Look out!" Zach backed away, watching as Throg fought the enormous creature, which looked like a giant beaver.

  The man buried his pike into the monster's wet fur.

  A vehement growl pealed to the side of Zach. Swimming toward him was another wishpoosh, its fangs forming a morbid sneer. Zach glanced at Throg, who had managed to pull himself back ashore.

  "Take off for the woods," yelled his friend. "The wishpoosh won't follow for long."

  Zach didn't hesitate to turn and run. Listening to Throg's advice was his best bet, though he hated to leave his companion even as the wishpoosh flared out of the channel.

  Zach raced through the forest for several minutes before he paused. The woodland behind him was still. He panted a few moments and waited, hoping Throg's friendly figure would emerge from the thicket. Guilt consumed him; he had left Throg behind to battle at least two of those wishpoosh, if not more.

  He decided to double back to the river. Perhaps Throg needed his help.

  Zach jogged and passed a grand tree with numerous fruits hanging from its limbs. Apples, oranges, plums, and pears protruded from its many branches. Other strange trees marked the landscape.

  For a while, he forged onward, though he hadn't thought he'd run so far. Soon he came upon a clearing, and as he drew closer, sounds emanated from behind a thick oak tree south of him. He poked his head around the trunk to identify the noise.

  A shiver raced down his spine at the sight before him: a fence made out of bones.

  Inside sat a small log cabin—a plain dwelling, except it rested on a pair of massive chicken legs. The building wobbled. The front resembled the face of a chicken, with two windows serving as its eyes, and a single door shaped like a beak. The cabin spun again, and repeated the process over and over. The chicken-house seemed to be looking for something.

  Zach watched for a few moments, and decided to move away from the bizarre sight. As if wishpoosh weren't enough, he didn't want to get attacked by a ferocious bird-like house, too.

  He backtracked and stopped at the large fruit tree he'd passed earlier. A heavy wind roared, whipping leaves and dust through the air. A terrible screeching grew around him. Timber creaked and groaned.

  He spotted a whirling movement in the sky, and scanned overhead. Several figures circled above the trees, emitting horrible shrieks.

  They had no legs and their tattered gray robes flowed from their bodies. Their gruesome faces contorted around their crooked chops and dark eye sockets. Boils, black as rot, circled their eyes and mouths. The sound of flies buzzing surged in Zach's ears.

  The beautiful fruit tree began to putrefy. Fruit dropped around him and crashed with a ghastly odor. Oranges broke open on impact. Green gunk burst from them, and several black spiders scurried out. The lush grass below him crinkled and turned yellow. Zach stumbled away from the tree.

  "You are doomed. You will suffer," the forms above screeched.

  Without a second glance, Zach bolted from the rotting fruit tree. He shoved bushes aside as he ran. Branches slapped him, but he did not stop. The howling monsters and sound of creaking trees followed him.

  A pair of floating hands blocked his path, forcing him to skid to a halt. One of the hands pulled a saber from the mist. It brandished the blade, ready to strike Zach down.

  "You dare confront us?" a voice wailed from the direction of the bobbing hands.

  He held up the sword given to him by Throg, hoping he could use it. The opposing blade descended upon him. Instinctively, he blocked the hand's first strike and then started a counterattack, forcing the hand back.

  Throg had been right: sword fighting came naturally to him, as if he were fully trained. Rather than running forward, he advanced with one foot behind the other. His legs and body flowed beneath him. He blocked a second blow and lunged for another strike.

  The haunting figures flew closer and whirled around the battle. When one dove at him, Zach swung the blade, ducked, and struck the trailing end of its cloak. The creature didn't seem to notice.

  "You dare. You dare. You dare," the creatures chanted and moaned.

  Zach pushed forward in a blazing attack and drove the hands backward. He feinted right and jabbed left. The hands tried to block his offense and failed. A screech came from where he stabbed the empty hand, and crimson liquid drooled from the cut.

  "Take that," he cried. "Now back off! I'm only passing through."

  The hands vanished along with their blade. Above, the treacherous creatures continued their shrieks. Zach turned to them and readied his sword.

  "She is coming. All is lost. You are doomed," they crowed. Then, they dove as one.

  Too many for him to fight alone, Zach ran again. Not ten yards later, he stopped dead in his tracks. Hovering in front of him was a mortar with a large pestle jutting out. Something crunched behind him. He spun, his weapon raised high.

  A monstrous hag stared at him. She smirked, flashing teeth made of a bright metal, blood dripping from them. Her face was gnarled and wrinkled, and a gigantic wart close to bursting pulsed on the side of her nose. Hair like black wire crept from under the rotting rags on her head.

  The repulsive witch strode forward. Her tall and stick-thin figure glided. From beneath a mound of cloaks, her hunched back protruded. She glared at him, her leathery skin oozing yellow pus, her matted hair whipping in the gust, her sharp snout twisting as she drew closer.

  She fixed her malevolent gaze on him and pointed her lengthy, clawed fingers forward. "You have returned. Were you sent to me, or have you come of your own accord?"

  Returned? Zach did not answer, sensing his response would be linked to his safety.

  "Answer me!" she roared.

  "I have come of my own accord."

  "I see," she grumbled, her grotesque, crooked teeth dribbling gore. She strode forward, her bones creaking with each step. The howling monsters whirled by her.

  "You come to death willingly." She st
udied him for a few seconds. "Your fate lies on the other side of the Shattered Woods... if you live." The witch then droned in an unrecognizable language.

  A noose dropped around his neck and snapped him off the ground. The cackling figures circled his dangling body. He swiped at the invisible snare to no avail.

  When he started to black out, the noose loosened its grip, and he crashed down. As he caught his breath, he looked at the soil. The dead grass was now a vibrant green with several colorful flowers spread out. Beautiful music had supplanted the screeching chorus of the whirling creatures. He gazed into the direction of the witch.

  She was clawing at the blue eyes twirling around her. The familiar voices spoke to him again. Their presence lit the world—bark changed color, becoming spectacular hues of gold, orange, and green. The Fugues.

  "Leave now," said the comforting voices. "She will not follow. Throg is safe and searching for you east of here. She has cast the nightmare charm on you. You must go to Baku, the dream-eater, to be healed. Quickly now."

  He walked off in a daze, leaving the screaming hag behind.

  "Biskara is coming," the witch wailed. "He will eat you whole, young Kin. He will tear the flesh from your bones."

  Sweet, reassuring music replaced the angry cries. Zach hummed along as a wonderful foggy tingling in his head made everything seem so far away. He paused to smell a bushel of strange sunset-colored flowers.

  "Keep going. You must go to the dream-eater."

  He lumbered forward, his sword out in front of him for some time, the blade weightless. Trees sang and moved about him in the lovely wind. Zach was so at peace, he wondered why he was walking at all when he could just lie down and sleep. Yet he kept trudging forth. Nothing hurt. No one bothered him. It was pure bliss, until a crashing in the underbrush snapped him out of his tranquil state.

  "Zach, thank the druids I found you," Throg shouted as he ran over. "Are you okay?"

  "Yes, I am fine. I encountered a witch." He touched his head, a little dazed. The sword hung heavy again.