by Nathan Roden
His vision cleared for just a moment—enough to see that he was still surrounded by a mountain range. The mountains were topped by jagged rocks. Simon cried out when one of his back legs bounced off of the stone. He flapped hard and rose higher into the darkened sky.
Simon had no choice. He had to land. The winds were swirling now and visibility was completely lost.
He was not even sure that both of his passengers were still safe.
Simon slowed and flew toward the ground. He couldn’t see anything at all.
He crashed through treetops
And hit the ground.
Simon opened one eye. He did not know if he had lost consciousness, or how much time had passed.
These puny trees could not have broken much of our fall, he thought.
Simon looked out on the one-dimensional sight of the southern border.
He could hear the powerful crosswinds. He could see only as far as the edge of the desert—into the wall of swirling sand.
Nothing—or no one—could survive out there.
Simon heard a cough.
He crashed through the surrounding trees. He heard another cough.
He found him face down.
“Boone?” he called out.
The young man rolled over and groaned.
“Boone?” the man called out before he went into a coughing fit.
“Did you see him, Ben?” Simon asked.
Ben slowly pushed himself to his feet.
“I haven’t seen anything—for miles!”
“Boone!” Simon cried out.
“Boone!”
Ben stared at Simon in amazement.
Simon tore through the stand of wind-weakened trees. He called out Boone’s name.
Ben called out his brother’s name, as well. There was no answer.
Simon and Ben met at the edge of the trees; the last place where there was any visibility at all.
“Stay here,” Simon said. “I’m going to get him.”
“I’m coming with you,” Ben said.
Simon raised his head and blasted fire into the sky. He lowered his head directly in front of Ben’s face.
“You—will stay right here! I cannot look for both of you!”
“Go then,” Ben said. “Be quick about it!”
Simon stepped into the blast of wind and sand.
“Boone!” he cried out.
“Boone!”
Simon couldn’t see anything at all. He counted his steps. He walked three steps forward. Three steps to the right. Six steps to the left. Three steps forward. Three steps to the right. Six steps to the left.
“Boone!”
“Boone Blankenship!”
Three steps forward. Three step to the right. Six step to the—
His leg hit something. He lowered his face to the ground.
A mouth. A nose. An eye. That was all that Simon could see above the surface of the swirling sand.
Simon talons shot beneath the surface. He raised the motionless body and pulled it next to him.
He turned around.
His sense of direction was completely gone.
Simon took a step forward.
“Ben! Ben Blankenship! Call out to us!”
Simon took another step.
“Ben! Ben Blankenship! I have Boone! If you can hear me call out to us!”
Simon took another step forward. He began to lose hope.
“Ben! Ben Blankenship! I have Boone! Please! If you can—!”
Simon felt hands on his leg.
The hands pulled him forward.
They took one step, and then another. And then six more—pulling away from the grip of the invisible desert.
They fell forward—away from the blistering sand and into the habitable world.
Forty-Seven
Ben and Boone slept fitfully; lying on their backs. Their faces and skin were blistered from the swirling sands.
Boone woke first. He pushed himself up onto his left elbow.
His lips met the cool edge of a hollowed stone. The stone held cool water.
Boone drank until the water was gone.
“Wake your brother,” Simon said. “I’ll be right back.”
Ben drank his fill as well.
“What a pitiful rescue force we are,” Ben said. “We almost died.”
“Almost died does not matter,” Simon said. “It never will.”
Ben pulled himself to his feet, shakily
“Fair enough,” he said. “I’m off to the village, then.”
“No,” Boone said.
He grabbed Ben by the arm.
“You could be recognized.”
Ben snatched his arm away.
“Then so be it!”
“You resemble Mother,” Boone said. “And I look more like Father. That is nothing to be proud of—but it may work to our advantage.”
“She is my child!” Ben said. “My Angel.”
Boone squeezed Ben’s shoulder.
“And she is my niece—who I would very much like to meet. I want to hold her in my arms and spoil her with every gift under the sun. That will never happen if you end up swinging from a rope.”
Boone hugged his brother and trotted off to the north.
Boone walked into the village. He tried to ignore the stares of those who looked at him as if he was from another world.
He walked toward the middle of the market and entered a pub.
“Aye,” the barkeep muttered a low growl of distrust.
“A stranger in these parts, eh?”
Boone nodded.
“You’d better have coin, boy. I have enough trouble getting money out of this lot.”
The man motioned toward the four patrons scattered about the corners of the pub.
Boone took out his coin purse and shook it. That got everyone’s attention.
He took four coppers and laid them on the bar.
“A mug of your best ale—for me and for my newest friends. One for yourself if you like.”
After Boone paid for a second round he seemed to have gained a measure of good will.
“What is your business here in Roball, friend?” the
“Roball?” Boone said. “That was not the name of this village the last time I passed through.”
The barkeep laughed.
“Of course not! The last mayor couldn’t keep his hands off of other men’s women. He had a little…accident, if you know what I mean.”
The barkeep drew his thumb across his neck. He and the other four men had a laugh at this.
“I’m looking for a man and a woman,” Boone said. “Older folks—traveling with a baby girl.”
“And why would you be looking for them?” the barkeep asked.
The others in the pub cast glances at each other.
“My brother had a wife and a baby. His wife died from the fever. He died not long after that. When I learned about it I came to look for my niece—but I was told the child’s grandparents took her and moved south.”
“So, where were you all this time?” the barkeep asked.
“I’ve been in the north for the last few years. I’m a hunter and trapper by trade.”
The barkeep slammed his mug down on the bar.
“I don’t know nothing about these people. Thanks for the drink. You best be moving along, stranger.”
“How about the rest of you?” Boone asked. “Have you seen—?”
The barkeep pulled a knife and held it in the direction of Boone’s throat.
“Take your stories and your questions somewhere else. But I don’t suggest you let the sun set on your backside inside of this village. Folks around here don’t care much for strangers with questions.”
Boone held up his hands and backed away to the door.
He stepped outside and blew out a breath.
A man and woman walked by. The man did not look at Boone at all. The woman peeked out at him from beneath her hat.
They walked down the road toward th
e center of the village. Boone followed them. He came upon ten other people sitting on benches outside of the shops.
“I’m looking for an older couple. They come from a village to the north. They have a baby with them—a little girl. She is my niece. My brother, the child’s father, was killed. I only want to find her—to see her—to let her know that I exist and that I care for her.”
Only two people bothered to glance up at Boone. One of them mumbled something about meddlesome strangers. They all stood and walked away.
Boone stood still, wondering if he would ever accomplish anything in a land where no one ever trusted a stranger. They had risked all to be here and thus far their time in the Southlands had been nothing but disappointment.
Disappointment and death.
Boone felt a tug at his sleeve. It was the woman in the hat. She pointed to the east.
“You will find them that way—in a small hut at the end of the road. I don’t trust them. I’m not sayin’ they’re up to no good, but I know that baby does not belong to them. They don’t come out together. And they never let the child out of their sight.”
“Thank you,” Boone said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a coin but the woman hurried away.
The woman ran to catch up to her husband. The man had not noticed his wife missing until he turned the corner toward their home. His mother-in-law stood in the doorway of his house wringing her hands. The man turned around, angry that his wife was not at his side.
“Althea! Where have you gotten off to? Your mother is waiting!”
The woman hurried past her husband. She exchanged whispers with her mother. The women walked inside the house.
Althea wept. Her shaking hands reached into her little girl’s bed and lifted the child. The girl’s skin was red and inflamed and sticky with fever. She was limp and lifeless, and too sick to cry.
“Mommy…” was all she said.
Forty-Eight
Boone and Ben waited until near sundown. They crept through the edge of the forest and located the house at the end of the road. When night came they saw lamplight through the gaps of the front windows.
Boone and Ben pulled a fallen tree toward the back door of the home. Anyone who tried to escape from the back door would have a difficult time of it.
Boone slipped to the side of the front door. He rapped his knuckles on it. Moments later he heard a man cursing. He had discovered the tree blocking the back door.
Boone knocked again.
“My name is Boone Blankenship. The little girl you have with you is my niece. I only want to see her and know that she is well.”
Boone listened intently. He heard an exchange of whispers. He heard a man’s raised voice followed by a woman’s angry voice.
The door opened slowly.
A man’s head appeared.
“I don’t care who—!”
And then the man saw that Benjamin Blankenship held a crossbow aimed at his head.
“Why couldn’t you just leave us alone?” the man snapped. “You’re not fit to care for a child! You led ten innocent boys to their death!”
“Because cowardly fools like you choose to stand by and do nothing while our people die,” Ben said. His grip on the crossbow did not waver.
“Fools like me are still alive,” the man said. “Those boys died like cattle—because they listened to you!”
“They died because they believed—”
“They died because they followed an imbecile! A stupid boy from the north who is not one of us—who will never be one of us!”
The man spat on the ground.
“I will burn in hell for allowing you to wed my daughter! But gods as my witness, you will join me there!”
Ben heard the baby’s voice.
“Dada! Dada!”
Ben’s voice caught in his throat. He did not lower the crossbow, but his hands shook.
“Angel…”
The old woman stepped into the doorway holding the child.
“Hello, baby,” Ben said.
“Put down the bow, son.”
The voice came from behind Ben and Boone. They turned around slowly.
Twenty townspeople surrounded them.
“I said put down the bow,” the man said. “Both of you.”
Neither of them did.
“That is my daughter,” Ben said. “I’ve come to get her—the same way that any of you would.”
“There’s one big difference, Son,” another man said. He also held an arrow pointed at Ben.
“We know these folks. We don’t know you. And we don’t care for what these good people had to say about you, neither.”
“You got a bunch of other kids killed at the border—for no good reason,” another man said.
“No good reason?” Ben chuffed. “My wife died because the king does not honor our treaty. Is that what you call ‘no good reason’?”
The sound of a crying child cut through the night.
“Take that child and go home!” someone shouted.
The woman wrenched herself away from her husband’s arms.
“No! I will not go home! This is wrong!”
The woman pushed her way toward Ben and Boone. She held her daughter in her arms.
“Leave them alone! That child is this man’s daughter! Let him take her far, far away from this cursed place! Don’t let…don’t let her stay here and get sick like..like…my baby…”
The woman collapsed into tears. Her husband stepped quietly to her side.
Ben’s daughter wiggled free from her grandmother’s arms. She ran for her father. It took all of Ben’s resolve to keep from dropping the crossbow. The grandmother snatched up the child. The girl cried and reached out for her father.
Boone took a step forward.
“We only want what is best for everyone. No more of our people have to die.”
“More of your mutiny talk!” the old man said. “You may as well have murdered those boys yourselves!”
“We marched to the border to try to save lives!” Ben said. “Lives like this woman’s precious little girl who burns with fever—the same fever that stole my wife from me!”
Boone held up his pouch.
“I have medicine! From across the great sea to the shores of Islemar!”
“Empty lies!” the old man cried. “Take them to the stocks!”
A voice sounded that seemed to come from every direction.
“That is not going to happen.”
Forty-Nine
The people heard the booming voice but did not know where it came from. They looked around. They looked up.
The dragon spread his wings and jumped down from the trees. He landed between Ben and Boone and the townspeople.
The people screamed and turned to run away. Four people fainted; two women and two men. Others tripped and stumbled into each other.
“The beast spoke! Did you hear it? This…this cannot be!”
They stopped in their tracks and the screams went silent. The only sound was the low growl of the snarling wolf.
Behind the wolf stood Nicolas Lamont and twenty of his men.
“Well,” Lamont said. “Now that our numbers are even, perhaps we might have a civil discussion.”
The old man took the crying baby away from his wife.
“You will never take this child!” he snapped at Ben. “You brought death to our homes—and now you bring this cursed abomination among us! A dragon that speaks? This is a demon from hell!”
Simon raised his head and burned off his fire. The people were frozen in place. In the silence they heard every word that the dragon spoke.
Simon leaned down toward the old man and woman.
“Hell is a place where a man is hunted down for daring to have a conscience. Hell is a place through which brave souls must march to seek a better life for their loved ones. Tell me—where are you from?”
Althea pushed herself to her feet. Her child’s fever had worsened. She stepped toward Boone.<
br />
“What are you doing?” her husband asked. He grabbed her arms.
“He has medicine!”
Her husband pointed at Simon.
“Althea! These men brought death to their village! They brought a monster to our village that speaks with the tongue of a devil! These people are evil!”
The woman pulled away from her husband. Her eyes blazed.
She slapped him.
“Evil?” the woman screamed. “They have medicine that can save our daughter! If that is what you call evil then I am the devil himself! Get out of my way!”
Boone looked at Helena.
“Help me.”
Helena walked to the woman and took the child from her arms. She sat down on the ground. Boone helped her take off the baby’s gown. He rubbed an ointment onto the child’s neck and chest. Boone opened a bottle. Helena sat the child up and Boone poured some of the liquid into her mouth. She continued to cry. The medicine ran down her chin.
People in the crowd whispered.
“Try again. More,” Helena said.
The baby stopped crying and opened her mouth.
Boone looked at Helena in surprise.
Helena smiled slightly and nodded.
Boone held the bottle to the little girl’s lips. She swallowed.
Ben’s child cried and struggled against her grandmother’s grip.
“Dada! Dada!” she continued to call out.
“Do not let her down!” the old man snapped.
The child thrashed about until the woman lost her grip. The little girl slipped to the ground. She bounced up and ran to her father.
In that moment Ben thought of nothing else. He dropped the crossbow and knelt to the ground. He threw his arms around his daughter. His father-in-law ran toward him.
