Maxwell's Closet

by Steven Belskie

  “This is no dream. And here and now I shall bring you from your fear. You will walk amid fields of death, but you shall live, until it is your time. I will make you mighty.”

  The figure behind began to glow, the human features dissolving in a blinding shimmering of life. The skin and flesh dissolved into water and the drops danced like stars, shimmering pink in the sand-reflected sunlight. The beads of water seemed drawn almost magnetically toward him.

  The beads fused with him. The water absorbed through his pores bringing new strength to him. He felt different. It was as if he was no longer one person. His thoughts were clearer, more rapid, and they seemed to run in two different streams.

  Strength coursed through his veins flowing with the blood, pumping itself to each part of him. The fear fled from his body, terrified of this new presence. No doubt now filled him. Only cool confidence. He knew what needed to be done. He knew the path that he would take. He knew the end that he would find.

  Chapter 13

  Footsteps traced a winding path along a muddied trail. The rain beat down and the soils washed from the hill. Muck and grime lay knee-deep in some places. Puddles that held fish dotted the road.

  Lighting flashed across the ominous sky, illuminating the swamp around them. The ground that had once been a bed of dry needles and dead leaves was now a sloshing peat bog. The dampness mixed with the decaying vegetation, and a horrid stench wafted through the air.

  Max’s nose burned as the fumes floated up from the swamp below him. The path wound its way on top of a hill. The face of the hill had been eroded to a sheer face by the pounding rain that was common in these parts. The ground beneath his feet was slick and treacherous. One wrong step and he would be sliding to the bottom of the hill without anything to stop his fall.

  He shuddered to think what foul creatures would inhabit the slush beneath him. Alligators and giant snakes for sure. Maybe even swamp men or fish people.

  Blaise walked up ahead of Max, shielding a torch from the howling wind and pouring rain. He clutched it close to his body to keep the flame alive but was careful not to torch his own clothing.

  Since returning from his walk Blaise had seemed different to Max. He held himself just a bit higher, he walked just a bit taller and he looked just a bit more confident. Only that morning Max had thought Blaise was going to fall apart, but something had stopped that from happening. Confidence seemed to emanate from within him, and Max felt assured that the challenge that lay ahead would be easier with him by his side.

  They didn’t have much of a plan, but still they moved determinedly toward their destination. All they knew was that the Merchant and Hunter were working in unison with an army of creatures to overthrow the kingdom. They did not know if Blaise’s father was still alive or if there was even any resistance left to oppose the Hunter.

  Blaise had assured Max his father was yet alive, but Max was not so certain. Word from fleeing peasants they passed on the road indicated that things were going badly. The dragon lord had captured the king’s palace and most of his army had joined Hunter or had been killed. The city was in flames, and those who would not join Hunter were being killed by the hundreds.

  Details were sketchy and time was short as not a soul wanted to stop longer than a few minutes. They wanted to be as far away as they could as quickly as they were able. Though Blaise pressed them, no one was sure whether the armies from the other cities in the kingdom were present when Hunter launched his attack. This piece of knowledge was vital. If the other armies still remained so did hope.

  Next to Max walked Ava. The rain drenched her clothes and the mud covered her feet, but still she walked with unrelenting determination. Her mouth had not opened in hours, not in complaint or even for small talk. They had set off to reach the Plessayian Fields by sunrise and she was hell-bent on doing so.

  Max had spoken only a few words since she had kissed him but words had not been needed. Her presence alone gave strength and comfort to him.

  As they trudged along in the sloppy mud Max began to lose himself to nature. The raw display of nature’s fury was beautiful in Max’s eyes. The clapping thunder provided a rhythm to his pace. The lightning lit the way and the rain quenched the thirst in his mouth. He felt humble and weak before this awesome might.

  Lost in the moment Max did not notice the flaming tree that rolled down from the upper mountains. It tumbled end over end down the slope and yet Max was not broken from his trance.

  Max was forced to the ground as Blaise tackled him out of the way. The log crashed where Max had been, and it shattered into huge flaming splinters that clattered against the ground. Before Max or Blaise could recover they saw figures rise from the muck around them. Some appeared from the side of the road and others surfaced from the swamp and scurried up the banks.

  The first to arrive surrounded Max and Blaise. The later arrivals sought to quickly capture Ava. A quick swipe from her elbow dislocated the jaw of the first and a swift kick to the groin left the second writhing in pain. The others needed no further persuasion to keep their distance.

  Though the men were covered in mud and other debris Blaise could tell they were human. Their stature and walk gave it away as did the hushed whispers they exchanged.

  “What business do you have on the road this late at night?” the smallest of the mud-covered figures demanded. His voice was broken and garbled, as his mouth was no doubt filled with mud and water.

  Those weren’t the words of bandits. They were the words of soldiers.

  “What authority do you have to ask such a question?” Blaise asked. He was cautious to reveal his identity until he was certain who these men were.

  “An authority above all else: that of the rightful king in exile. We are here to capture traitors to the crown and provide for them absolute justice.” The voice was cold and merciless. Blaise laughed as he realized he knew the voice.

  The men raised their spears higher as he laughed. They eyed him with uncertainty. Surprise read through even the mud masks that covered their faces.

  “You have always been quite a character, my friend.” Blaise watched as anger crossed the speaker’s face.

  “What are you talking about? Who are you?” The man spoke but a line of fear ran through his voice.

  “Do you not remember me, Griffin?” Blaise spoke loudly allowing his voice to be well heard.

  A sudden perplexed looked crossed the mud covered face of the man Max assumed was Griffin. He squinted his eyes, attempting to see the man who knew his name but the darkness was deep. He shouted for a torch to be brought up.

  “It cannot be.” He walked in a circle, studying Blaise in the darkness. “You can’t be who I think you are. You’re dead.”

  Griffin took the torch that was offered it to him and thrust it close to Blaise’s face. The light flickered and illuminated the face before him. His stomach turned as he looked into the eyes of a dead man.

  “You’re a ghost. You can’t be here. They said you were dead.”

  “Surely we can’t be dead if we are here talking to you. I can assure you we are alive.”

  Griffin wiped the mud from his face. His eyes stared in disbelief at the two men standing before him.

  “You see this, men?” Griffin spoke in a hushed voice but he let it carry so that each one of his men could hear it. “Prince Blaise is here to save the day, and he’s brought a little help.”

  The men didn’t make a noise but they raised their weapons in triumphant celebration. Their masks of mud could not hide the euphoric joy that rushed through their bodies as they saw hope for the first time in days.

  “Come, we have to move quickly off the road and take you to your father.” Griffin spoke, but he stared uneasily at Ava. “I’m afraid she can’t come. King’s orders. Only people on official business may be taken to the camp and only those that I approve. I can’t let this stranger come.”

  Max opened his mouth to voice his displeasure but Blaise beat him to it. “You may tell my f
ather that I was unable to rejoin him and the army because you were unwilling to allow this girl to be taken with me. Tell him that the entire future of his kingdom is in jeopardy because you are afraid of catching cooties.” Blaise’s voice was not angry; it was indifferent as if he genuinely wished for Griffin to inform the king of all this.

  The captain was visibly flustered, and he stuttered as he attempted to clarify the situation to Blaise. “She can come,” he paused, thinking carefully of what he was to say, “but she must be blindfolded.” Griffin cast his head down as he spoke, unwilling or incapable of meeting Blaise’s gaze.

  Blaise stared at the top of the captain’s downcast head. He didn’t speak for some time. Calmness flooded through him, while impatience and anxiety consumed Griffin. Finally Blaise spoke.

  “If she wears a blindfold then all of us do.”

  The captain didn’t speak; he only motioned to his men. They wrapped cloth around each of the three adventurers and led them away down a path leading into the swamp.

  The footing was uncertain in the thigh-deep muck and more than once Max nearly fell into the slush only to be caught by the soldiers guiding him. He could feel snakes and fish swimming past his feet. The hair on his neck stood up as he tried to suppress the thought.

  The stench in the swamp was even worse than it had been on the trail. On several occasions Max had to stop to fight back sickness from overtaking him. He didn’t lose himself but he felt terrible.

  The ground became more solid under his feet and the water level dipped from his knees down to his shins. Soon enough he stood on solid ground without any level of water.

  Blindfolds were removed and the three companions were ushered past a guard post. The post was little more than a few rotted logs stacked together with two men standing behind them. Both nodded to Blaise but continued to look out into the dark swamp.

  The camp itself seemed to have been constructed on some type of elevated ground in the middle of the swamp, almost like an island. Trees and brambles were interwoven along the island shores to provide a defensive barrier against both invaders and animals.

  Spaced evenly along the barriers were guard towers that shot up thirty or more feet from the ground. These were carved into the remains of dead trees. Vines were used to lash together planks of sawed-up wood that served as observation platforms. Two men manned each tower: a spotter and a bowman. Fires burned dimly, giving just enough light for the guards to move about overhead.

  Tents constructed of thick, dirty wool were packed tightly in the camp. There was barely room to move between them, and the paths that were traversable were filled full of slow lines of soldiers going from one end of the camp to the other.

  Up ahead toward the center of the camp Max saw that the densely packed tents disappeared. A small circular clearing housed the smallest of the tents that Max had seen. Outside the tent were three men crowded around a map debating intently. The clearing was guarded by two dozen warriors who formed a circle around the tent.

  As the captain leading Max and his companions reached the circle, it parted, the warriors moving silently to open a hole. As soon as the four of them were inside, the circle closed as it had opened, sealing them behind a wall of armor and courage.

  The men around the table stopped speaking and looked at the arrivals. The tallest among them stood straight and walked out to meet them. Blaise ran and embraced him. He could barely choke back the tears as he felt happiness wash over him.

  “Father!” Blaise shouted in joy. “I had feared you were dead.”

  “It seems our fears were the same, as is our joy at the unsuccessful fruition of them.” The king wore a large, bright smile as he spoke.

  Blaise released his father from the embrace and placed his hands on his father’s shoulders. Looking at him he did not see the same man he had left. Had Blaise not recognized his father’s dark brown eyes he would have most likely mistaken him for a beggar or thief rather than a king. The hair, which had once formed a well-kept mane that would rival that of a lion, was now filthy and disheveled. It appeared that some of his hair had been pulled or cut out during battle.

  Cuts and scars marked his face and arms. Scarcely was there a spot of skin still unmarred. Dried blood and pus from festering wounds covered him. His armor was dented and misshapen while any cloth he wore was torn and tattered.

  “So it is true, Father? Hunter has betrayed us?” Blaise asked, already knowing the answer but hoping for something other than reality.

  The smiled vanished from his father’s face. Deep wrinkles ran across his face as he frowned. They were like rivers of sorrow that flooded him with despair.

  “I am afraid so. He has taken the alphabet hostage and is using it for his devices. In order to make good use of it he has had allow the letter back into public. This means we can all speak again, but greater problems have arisen.” He paused, but no one spoke. It was clear he had more to say; it was just too painful to say all at once.

  “Doom has been brought upon us all by the actions of my son. To seek to master that which has no master is the greatest folly of our people, and through it we shall find our end. I only pray that neither myself nor my sons hold any part in the tale of mankind’s destruction.”

  “But you said that we are already doomed.”

  “Yes. Doomed to death. Doomed to war. Brothers are doomed to bury brothers and fathers to bury sons. We are doomed to kill one another, as we are doomed to watch our daughters die. But we are not doomed unto our end. Not while we remain and hope with us.”

  The two men who had been standing behind the king moved and flanked him on either side. The one to left bowed to the king and spoke.

  “Your majesty, should we brief your son and his, uhh,” the man hesitated, looking at Max and Ava, “friends.”

  “Excuse me, but you and Max have not introduced me to your friend.” The king squinted through the darkness trying to discern the mud-covered figure standing next to Max but he couldn’t make her out.

  “This is—” Max began but was cut off by Ava.

  “Elizabeth. My name is Elizabeth.”

  Max began to question what she had said but she dug her elbow into his ribs. Hard. He decided to keep quiet.

  “I was a peasant. My parents were killed in the first attacks. I fled into the wilderness. If it were not for these two, I would certainly have starved.”

  The king regarded the story with interest. “Well, it is no mere chance that these men found you. I think perhaps there is more to your story than has already been written. Come now, all of you, we have many matters to discuss.”

  The king and his two advisers moved over to the table they had been crowded around earlier. Spread out across the table were several letters and dispatches. Beneath them lay a map of the surrounding area. It was marked up to show troop movement and possible attack routes.

  From what Max could read on the map they were little more than an hour’s march from the city. But most of the land between the city and this camp was deep swampland. No horses or siege weapons could be taken unless they were to go around the swamp, and that would take much longer. Probably a day or two.

  Even regular foot soldiers would have trouble moving through the dense alligator-infested waters. Most of the heavy armor and weapons would have to be forsaken for lighter armament. Otherwise it would be too easy for heavily armed soldiers to become bogged down and drown in the marsh.

  The king explained that each soldier was outfitted with light mail armor and was armed with a short sword and a light spear. This meant that they were more vulnerable in a fight, but the king hoped the increased speed would make up for it. With how quickly they could march he hoped that they could attack before the enemy had a chance to organize a defense.

  “Our goal is to take them by surprise. If we can hit them before they know what is happening we can inflict maximum casualties and perhaps even take a section of the outer wall. However once they organize a defense we are going to take massive casua
lties. We just have to make sure we don’t break. We only have to hold until help arrives.”

  “Help?” Blaise spoke with a puzzled look on his face. “Are the other armies still intact?”

  A look of satisfaction passed over the king’s face. “Yes, we are not in this alone. Hunter acted too rashly; he struck against us before all the armies had been assembled. The other forces should arrive roughly an hour after we begin our attack.”

  “That is why we have to hold the full attention of Hunter’s troops. We have to thin them out so that when the reinforcements arrive they will be out of position. Then hopefully in the chaos they will make a mistake, and we can pour into any opening they give and we tear them apart from the inside.”

  Blaise had been studying the maps carefully as his father spoke. He pictured the movements of troops and the flow of the battle. The plan wasn’t very complicated but it was possible.

  “How many men are we going to have total?” Blaise looked up from the map.

  “Two thousand. At least we hope that will be how many swords we can bring to bear. But it’s not even a quarter of what we will face.” The king turned his back and paced away from the table. He spoke with his back still turned. “There is a chance that we may receive more troops to even the playing field. The king of Oudan may supply us with ten thousand of his best soldiers. That is if we can convince him our lack of response to his invitation was accidental.”

  Ava’s mask of stone could not hide her interest at these words. The king saw this but said nothing. He made a note of it for later.

  “So you mean to say,” Max interjected, “that the very king who was going to attack you is now going to aid you?”

  “Yes, it has taken some convincing, but it seems that he may join us. He is here actually, in this very camp. He should be out here shortly to discuss terms.”

  As the king finished speaking a blaring of horns announced the arrival of the king of Oudan. He was a tall, kingly man garbed in deep purple robes that were trimmed in gold. Upon his head he wore a small silver crown that was inset with gems and precious stones of many colors.