by Steven Novak
Biting down hard on her emotions she spoke to Nicky with her sore, grave voice. “Nicky…Nicky, are you okay? What happened?”
The young boy turned to her briefly, acknowledged her presence, but of course did not answer.
When she tried to stand, a sudden jolt of pain flickered in her head. She quickly lowered herself onto one knee to keep from tipping over. “Did you pull me out of the stream? What happened?”
Once again Nicky did not answer. He pointed frantically at the forest around him, trying desperately to get the attention of his still woozy companion. Moving over to Staci, Nicky did his best to help her onto her feet. Once she stood fully erect without leaning on him for support, he let her go and moved away. His eyes never left the strange new world around them.
When Nicky left, Staci willed her aching limbs to follow. “Nicky, wait! Where are you going? Come back!”
The pain in her head pounded away at the interior of her skull; she used her right hand to massage her temple in an attempt to alleviate the pain. As she rubbed the side of her face, she noticed the oddly colored grass and the even more oddly colored grayish wood splinters beneath her feet. She lifted her weary head and looked at her surroundings for the first time since coming out of the water; what she saw was something resembling a war zone. In every direction trees were tipped over and shattered. Clumps of dirt and grass were strewn as if the earth had been lifted up and tossed into the air with no regard for where it might land. A thin cloud of brown dust and dirt permeated the air, blanketing everything for miles in every direction. Vision beyond short distances was almost impossible.
Where in the world was she? What was going on?
Frantically, she turned and looked behind her. There was no stream or fort, nothing remotely familiar. She saw only a disaster area and a small puddle of water from which her footprints led.
A great sense of dread sank into the pit of her belly, resting heavily. It weighed her down, making it once again hard to stand. Wherever she was, she was positive she did not want to be there, and most likely was not supposed to be.
“NICKY! Nicky come on, we’re getting out of here!” Staci yelled urgently, as she ran in the direction of the youngest Jarvis brother. Her sore limbs and the pain in her head quickly became little more than an afterthought to getting away, even if she was not exactly sure how she was going to accomplish such a feat.
Catching up with the boy she grabbed him by his arm and spun him around, “NICKY STOP! Come on, we’re getting out of here!” She had no idea where “here” was, how she was going to get out of it, or even what was going on, but she knew that allowing the boy to wander around aimlessly in what appeared to be a freshly-made disaster area was not likely the best course of action.
Nicky pushed her away, fighting the best he could. Whatever had happened to the two of them had more than likely happened to his brother and Donald. Tommy was here and he was not going to just leave him behind. Managing to wiggle his arm free from Staci’s grip, he hurriedly put some distance between them with a sudden burst of speed.
Staci matched his energy though, catching up to him quickly. This time she wrapped both arms around his waist, using all her might to pull him in the opposite direction, “NICKY! NO! STOP IT!”
The two wrestled for position, pushing, pulling and grunting with every ounce of strength that they could muster. The pair stumbled backward and crashed into an enormously thick gray tree. Staci managed to pin the boy’s hands above his head against the trunk. She was out of breath, sore, frustrated and more scared than she had ever been in her life. Everything was spinning out of control and she felt the need to have control over one thing. At the moment, that thing happened to be Nicky Jarvis.
“STOP IT NICKY! Where are you going!? Where are you running to!? You don’t even know where we are! You don’t even…” Staci’s voice slowly trailed off when a strange sound sneaked its way into her ear.
She cocked her head to the side, still pinning Nicky to the tree. She saw nothing. With wide eyes, she turned back to Nicky to see if he had heard the sound. “Did you hear that?”
Nicky stopped struggling and looked around nervously, as if he had heard it as well. Again the strange sound filled the air like a dog panting, but worlds deeper and a universe louder. Staci let go of Nicky’s wrists and slowly moved him away from the trunk. Something about it caught her attention. Something was strange. It looked soft, spongy, and maybe even a bit moist. Glancing down at its base, she noticed something else quite strange. Were those toes?
With one finger she poked the thick trunk. It was malleable, smooth and leathery, unlike any tree she had ever touched. Almost immediately after she poked the strange tree, the forest around them began to rumble. From high above a monstrously sized head connected to a neck as long as half a football field swooped down through the cloud of dirt. Coiled like a snake in midair, it came to a stop inches from the children. Staci froze in place. Much like when her father had tried to take her swimming as a little girl, every limb in her body locked. She was unable to make even the slightest movement. In fact, the only thing she was still able to do with any amount of success was to scream.
And she screamed very loudly.
Both children backed against the massive tree, that they now understood to be a massive leg, until they could go no further. The monster’s gargantuan head was the size of a truck. Its long snout was wrapped with huge strips of leather, most likely cut from the hide of an equally enormous creature, which seemed to work as a muzzle, keeping the incredible beast from fully opening its massive jaws. The monster sniffed the air around it with nostrils so large that she or Nicky could climb inside and get lost forever. The great gray-skinned creature apparently did not like the smell of the children and growled its displeasure through the constraints of the tight muzzle; its breath blew Staci’s hair wildly in every direction. It shook its enormous skull violently from side to side and quickly floated back into the sky from whence it came.
From somewhere above the trees came the sound of sliding metal against thick cable as ropes were being dropped. Instinctively Staci grabbed Nicky and pulled him closer. At least fifteen human-like figures dressed in elaborately decorated armor jumped off the creature’s back. Just before hitting the ground, they came to an abrupt and jerky stop, unhooked themselves from the harnesses around their waists and landed on the forest floor. Their movements were quick and precise, making it obvious that this was something they had done many times before. One of the large men pulled a long broadsword from a sheath on his back as he approached the children who were by now crouching at the foot of the great beast. In one quick, dangerous motion the figure extended his sword toward their trembling bodies.
From behind a large almost black helmet covering the whole of his head, he spoke in a deep, rocky voice, “Who are you?”
Staci immediately began to sob while mumbling to herself. She reached across Nicky’s chest, pulling his bony body closer to her.
The soldier moved his sword within inches of her teary face, letting the tip of the blade rest threateningly against her forehead. With the smallest amount of pressure, he pushed it forward just enough to draw the smallest amount of blood as his voice barked from behind his helmet, “SPEAK!”
Staci could feel a tiny drop of blood trickling down, traveling over the bridge of her nose. In this moment, all she could think about was her mom and dad, and the fact that she would most likely never see either of them again. Faced with what could be the end of her life, these images filled her entire young brain; these thoughts only succeeded in making her cry more.
“SHEATH YOUR WEAPON, LIEUTENANT!” Another voice called out.
An even larger figure, in even more elaborately decorated armor, strolled up beside the first, and stared down at the children through a thin black slit cut into the front of his helmet. The first soldier reluctantly sheathed his sword and stepped back. The larger soldier, who obviously outranked him, knelt in front of Staci and Nicky. He paused,
taking a moment to fully look them over. He examined every inch of their minuscule bodies with great interest. Extending his gloved finger to the blood trickling from Staci’s head, he smeared some of it onto its tip.
Quietly under his breath, with just the slightest hint of shock in his deep voice, he whispered more to himself than anyone else, “It’s red.”
Seeming to be revolted by the very idea, he grabbed a handful of leaves from the ground, using the wad to wipe the blood from his glove in utter disgust. He stood up, lifted a finger into the air, and made a slight gesture that immediately brought two other helmeted soldiers to his side. “Strap them in. We’re taking them with us.” His voice was thick with his distaste over the pair of tiny, crying, red-blooded creatures in front of him.
One of the soldiers snatched Nicky, who tried his best to wiggle from the bulky figure’s grasp. The other soldier reached down and grabbed the still sobbing Staci. One by one each of the helmeted soldiers locked themselves back into the harnesses that had dropped them from the sky. One by one they disappeared back into the dust cloud. Somewhere within the dirt and the disaster area, the gigantic creature let out a muzzle-mouthed roar. Moments later it moved in the direction its master had ordered, smashing to cinders what was left of the forest with each step.
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CHAPTER 13
SO SAYS THE ELDER
*
A soft warm light came from above which forced Tommy to squint after entering the doorway leading to the underground city, Tipoloo. Once his eyes had adjusted to the radical change in lighting he noticed that it was generated by hundreds of lanterns dangling from a dirt ceiling at least twenty feet above the street. Much like the tunnels Pleebo had led them through, the city of Tipoloo looked as if it had been dug out by hand. At twenty or so feet high, and maybe twenty-five feet across it seemed to be little more than a larger, more elaborate tunnel. Cut further into the earth on either side were small alcoves that the residents of the city most likely called “home”. Enormous stone slabs, each one a different size and shape, stood in front of every dwelling, creating a privacy wall. Each stone had a poorly made wooden door, tied together with forest vines. No two were alike; each seemed constructed specifically to fit whatever shape the enormous slab happened to be. Everything in the city looked rushed, handmade and moments away from falling apart.
As the boys followed Pleebo through the streets, heads of creatures shyly peeked out of holes in the stones or cracks in the wooden doors. Each individual was wildly different from the last. Some were bird-like things covered in dirty multi-colored feathers with long egg-colored beaks that curled like a roll of tape at the end. Others were enormously horned beasts with snouts like dogs; the thick fur heavily covering their eyes had to be constantly brushed away. Still others were long nosed, big eared stumpy trolls no more than three feet tall – one in particular proudly sporting a cracked monocle attached to the front pocket of his dusty brown jacket. There were blue women with heads like hammerhead sharks, more than a few holding babies that did not look to be of the same species, wrapped in tattered blankets. Despite the enormity of differences, there were a few things they seemed share.
Each and every one of them looked hungry, tired and sad.
In fact, an undeniable air of hopelessness cascaded across the rickety old city like a thick fog, creeping and crawling into every single crack of every single doorway, resting heavily on the hearts of those living inside.
The further Pleebo led the boys down the street, the more creatures came out of their homes to stare at both Tommy and Donald with questioning eyes.
Pleebo turned to speak to the boys as they walked. “Don’t worry about them. They just aren’t sure what to make of you. You’re the first of your kind down here. Plus, don’t take this the wrong way…but you are a little weird looking.” His thin lips coiled into a smile, chuckling to himself at yet another of his little jokes.
A legless orange-green creature with a perfectly round head and the very tiniest patch of stringy gray hair wheeled himself out of a nearby dwelling on what looked to be a slightly modified wheelbarrow. Coming to a stop four feet away from the boys, he looked them over from top to bottom. The scars on his face told the tale of a long and hard life much better than any words.
“What happened to them?” Tommy asked, as a round little thing, no more than two feet tall, peeked out from behind a large boulder. It had an enormous head taking up one of the two feet and tiny facial features resting dead in the center.
Lifting his skinny arm, Pleebo waved gently in the strange little thing’s direction. The tiny-faced man raised his arm, barely eight inches long, and waved back.
Pleebo then turned and answered Tommy. “The same thing that happened to all of us…the Dark Army.”
An even tinier man with a barely noticeable, yet strangely thick brown mustache and bright red skin, whizzed past Donald’s ears on wings moving too fast for the human eye to capture. The buzzing sound created by his wings scared Donald, causing him to jump to the side; he very nearly fell over. The tiny mustached man then zoomed past Tommy, finally hovering in the air directly in front of Pleebo.
“Pleebs, please don’t tell me that you think these two little poops belong to The Five.” He grumbled annoyingly, his voice surprisingly gruff considering his rather minuscule stature.
Pleebo chuckled slightly at the forwardness of his friend’s comment. “I don’t know if they are or they aren’t…but they sure do look the part.”
In a blink, the tiny man whizzed over Pleebo’s shoulder and came to a still-airborne stop a few inches from Tommy’s face. He quickly flew from one side to the other like a little hummingbird, examining every inch of the boy while roughly stroking his shaggy mustache.
He zipped back to the space in front of Pleebo, put his hands on his hips, rolled his little red eyes and said, “If these two are part of The Five, then we better hope the other three are a little more intimidating. Otherwise, we’re all doomed.”
“Let’s just wait and see what the Elder has to say, Roustaf.” Pleebo responded, trying to keep from bursting into a fit of laughter.
Annoyed by the little man’s comments, Donald tapped Tommy on the shoulder. “Who’s he calling a poop?”
After about five more minutes of walking and eliciting odd stares from every creature they passed, Pleebo came to a stop outside a very large stone house.
Pleebo pushed open an oval shaped door and motioned for the boys to enter. “Time to meet the Elder.”
Both Tommy and Donald hesitated. The boys were fairly sure that no one in the town meant them any harm. If they had, they would have been bobbing up and down in a boiling pot of stew by now. This knowledge, however, did not make the situation less worrisome. Donald made no attempt to move forward, so Tommy took the initiative, cautiously stepping through the doorway.
The room was dark, and dank, and somehow more humid than the amazingly stuffy city street. A single candle giving off an odd blue flame flickered in the corner on top of a poorly constructed table. Putting his hand in the center of Donald’s back, Pleebo gently pushed the boy into the room after Tommy. He followed them both inside and closed the creaky door .
Once all three were inside, the large crowd of creatures that had followed them through the streets rushed toward the door, fighting for position, hoping to hear the discussion about to take place inside. Tiny, mustached Roustaf wedged himself into a six-inch wide crack in the rock wall. He sat down and stared impatiently into the dark room while he absentmindedly twiddled the corner of his bushy mustache.
Inside the dark dwelling Tommy noticed movement in the corner. From underneath a tattered blanket on a barely standing bed, a frail, ghost-like figure pulled itself up. The creature looked like an extremely old version of Pleebo, though somehow even thinner. With even the slightest of movements the old creature’s bones cracked and ground together, vehemently voicing their disapproval of their changed position. From its pale, nearly
translucent face, hung a long, stringy white beard filled with knots and matted gray hairs. Almost as if moving in slow motion, the creature lifted its head and glanced in the direction of the boys with its washed out, faded red pupils.
Achingly lifting one of its waif-like hands, it gestured in Tommy’s direction. “Come here my boy…come here.”
Tommy looked briefly at Pleebo, who silently nodded his approval.
“Come now, boy…don’t be frightened.”
With much trepidation, Tommy moved toward the frail figure seated on the edge of the bed. When he got close enough, the ancient creature leaned forward and reached out its arm, tenderly touching the side of his face. It pulled him close to his eyes and examined him, running its bony fingers through his hair then turning him to the side in order to look at the boy’s profile.
With a tired voice, it whispered more to itself than to anyone in particular, “So very…very young. For the life of me, I will never understand why they would send us one so very young.”
Removing his hand from Tommy’s face, the Elder gently patted the boy on the cheek and shifted back on his bed, leaning awkwardly against the dirt wall.
From the shadows on the other side of the darkened room came Pleebo’s voice, “Is it them? Are they a part of The Five?”
The Elder chuckled softly in his faraway voice, which triggered a small fit of coughs. Once his coughing was under control, he stared back at Pleebo with his head cocked to the side. “So impatient, Pleebo…always so impatient…just like your mother.” He turned his faraway gaze to Tommy and Donald. “Have a seat, young ones…I have quite a story to tell you.”
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CHAPTER 14
THE UNAVOIDABLE FALL OF FILLAGROU
*
In a time before the concept of time had been given shape, the land of Fillagrou was among the most beautiful and peaceful in all of reality. Its inhabitants had lived in relative peace and happiness for generations, making their home among the dense trees of the red forest. After years spent nurturing a relationship that had been beneficial to both parties, they slowly, through patience, hard work and caring, became a culture at one with nature. Life for them was good and perfect and wonderful.
