by Adrian Juhl
Chapter Eight
The Great Portal lit the early morning sky. Torik walked down the steps and let out an involuntary crow.
“You stupid rooster! Are you purposely trying to alert them to our arrival?”
Torik’s wattle shook. “Sorry, habit. The village is that way, Samuel,” he said, pointing north. “Let’s get this over with.”
Samuel was of average height, with black hair that grew past his shoulders. Unlike his fellow guards, he wielded a steel staff engraved with various symbols. The guards wore heavy chain, adorned with small scales of plate. Their red capes bore the King’s royal symbol.
“You heard the chicken, men. Move out.”
The guards saluted Samuel and moved off the portal pad. Dee licked the dirt out of his eyes and followed them.
Samuel surveyed the area. Trees towered above him, surrounded by dense brush.
Torik turned, waiting for the men to catch up. “We don’t have all day! Try to keep up, apes.”
As Torik turned back to resume walking, Olim collided with him, sending him backwards to land on the ground. “Get off my wattle! You’re hurting me!” he crowed.
The guards seized the intruder and pulled him to his feet. Olim pulled his arms free, the tip of his tail stopping short of a guard’s throat. His eyes blazed a fevered red. “Methuselan! Where is your Bishop?”
Samuel gestured to the guards, who lowered their weapons. He moved toward the Feral, showing no fear as he stared up at the ten-foot tall rat.
“The King’s Guard does not travel with a Bishop.”
“Lies!”
“Would a Bishop align themselves with a Feral?”
“If it suited him,” snarled Olim.
Samuel smiled. “Yes, you’re right.” He leant forward. “But it was worth a try.”
“If what you say is true, then get out of my way.”
“What’s the hurry?” Samuel asked.
“Let’s just say I have to deliver a special message from your Emirate.”
Samuel’s smile disappeared. “The Emirate is here?”
“Yes. So I suppose that makes me your boss.” Olim lowered his tail. “Now get out of my way!”
The guards raised their weapons at a look from Samuel.
“I’m sorry, sir, but if that’s the case, then I must insist you remain here.”
“What are you talking about? I have a message to deliver before it’s too late.”
“I can’t risk your message jeopardizing our mission.”
Olim raised his tail, preparing to attack.
A small voice surprised Olim. “We’ve been sent to deliver our own message,” Dee called out.
“Another Feral? Working with Methuselans?”
Olim winced as Torik struck him in the face. “You stupid rat. If we fail to get to the village because of you, I’ll make sure it’s your head in the bag and not mine.”
Torik froze in terror as the serrations on Olim’s tail moved across the back of his neck. “Try it. I want to see if that they say is true. Does a chicken still run around without its head?”
Samuel glared at Olim. “So it’s true. Ferals are savages after all.”
Olim pressed the tip of his tail into the back of Torik’s neck. “If I don’t pass this message to the Bishop, my village is doomed.”
Torik felt the tactile tail wrap itself around his neck. “Wait, wait! Tell him, Dee!” he begged.
“Tell me what?” Olim replied. His tail tightened.
Dee drew his long stiletto from its sheath and pressed it against Olim’s belly. “We’ve been sent to warn the village of the Bishop. She’s coming to wipe them out.”
Samuel flourished his staff. Using both hands, he turned it in the middle. The staff clicked and separated as two blades unsheathed from within the hollow. Olim’s jaw dropped as Samuel prepared to attack. “Now it’s your turn, friend. Tell me the message from the Emirate, or we all die here, right now.”
Olim glared back. “Stop.”
“That depends on you,” Samuel replied.
“No. Stop!”
“Then tell me,” Samuel insisted.
“The message was,” Olim paused, “Stop.”
Samuel lowered his swords. “Sounds like the Emirate.” He turned to his men. “We’ve wasted enough time here. Let’s go.”
The men moved up the path, leaving the Ferals behind.
“Dee!” Samuel called out.
Dee shrugged his shoulders and ran after the men.
Torik pointed after Dee. “Shouldn’t we be following, now that we’re all friends?”
Olim unwound his tail from Torik’s neck and shook his head. “I have to go.”
Torik ruffled the feathers on his neck and mumbled, “I hope I don’t catch something.” He craned his neck and grinned. “You know the Emirate was lying. As soon as you approach Belle, she will kill you.”
“Belle? She is here?”
Torik nodded.
Olim grabbed his head in anguish. “Then I’m too late!”
“We won’t know until we get there.”
The two hurried to catch up to the guards. The small group moved with caution down the dirt path. Dee froze as they crested a small hill. Thick black smoke rose into the sky.
Samuel placed his pack on the ground. “Switch,” he ordered.
The men opened their packs and took off their armor and insignias. Samuel opened a small box. Inside, six rings and six small vials containing a purple liquid, sat on a cushion of cotton.
The men took one of each. They threw their bags into the thick brush and put on the rings.
“Remember our oaths. No identity and no prisoners.”
Torik looked at Dee, who shrugged back. Samuel handed Dee a bag of silver and a silver coin. “Just in case. Now take us to the Chieftain.”
“Down there?” Dee asked.
Samuel nodded as his men tapped their rings. Suddenly, their bodies shimmered. In their places stood five Feral foxes.
“Not bad,” Olim laughed. “Everyone loves the foxes.”
Samuel grinned as he tapped his ring. “Lucky guess.”
“Not everyone,” Torik complained. His head bobbed back and forth as an errant cluck slipped out.
Olim walked beside Samuel, tapping the back of his shoulders with his tail, hoping for a response. Samuel ignored the annoyance. “Why is the Bishop here?” Olim asked.
“The Regent is unhappy with Ketu’s lack of faith. He has chosen to make an example of your village. His Majesty disagrees.”
“So he sent his merry men?”
Samuel signaled for silence and pointed up ahead. They took cover and observed the battle within the village.
“You could say that,” Samuel replied.
“So what do you call yourselves?” Olim wiggled his fingers in front of Samuel’s nose. “Team Shadow? The Freaky Foxes?”
Samuel pushed the large fingers away from his face. “On the horizon. Look.”
Olim peered ahead. His humor vanished as a group of Feral children ran across the top of an earthen barrier. “Lucas was right all along.”
“Lucas?” Samuel asked.
“A strange young Feral. Son of a good warrior and friend. But the young lad is more interested in other pursuits.”
“Lucas? Son of Lugah?”
Olim nodded and pointed at the children. “The white cat. The Feral. That’s Lucas.”
“Extraordinary. How did he know?”
“Know what?”
“That the Bishop was coming for them. Take a closer look. They are running to that wagon.”
“Then we should attack the village now while we have the advantage!”
“We came to warn the Chieftain so that he could move to another location until the danger passed. We can’t take on a Bishop. Especially Belle.”
“Jeesh,” Olim muttered. “And they call me a rat.”
“We came here to save the children, and it looks like this Lucas kid needs our help. The Regent ordered the B
ishop to kill them, not the adults. They will be disciplined, but not killed.”
“So we let the adults take the fall for the children.”
“Isn’t that what parents do?” said Samuel.
“What can you do?”
“We will intercept the children and take them somewhere safe. Bishop Belle won’t stop until she succeeds or dies. We need a diversion.”
“I guess I’m up then.”
“Take this.” Olim handed Samuel a red marble. “Head along that path until the sun is overhead, then throw it.”
Samuel looked at the marble. “What is it?”
“If you make it, you’ll find out. If you don’t…then…”
Samuel nodded. “It’s best not to know.”
Before he could put the marble in his pocket, a small hand materialized and snatched it from Samuel. The rest of Sito appeared before them. The guards turned to grab Sito, but Olim hauled him up into his arms.
“Sito!”
“Oh my, oh my! You’ll never believe it! You’ll never believe it!”
“Believe what? Scales?”
Sito’s whole body shook with fear, fading in and out to match his environment, at the memory of Defh. He paused and then replied, “I, I, I found you. It was very hard.”
Olim cocked an eyebrow. “Really? You know my scent well enough to find me after a week.”
Sito looked at the Feral foxes and whispered in Olim’s ear, “What are you doing? They smell like humans. Did you meet some? Oh dear, more humans!”
“No, Sito?” said Samuel, cutting in on the conversation. “We are here to help and time is running out.”
“Very well. I will lead them to the west,” said Olim. “Take Sito and meet up with Lucas. Find out what is happening. Lucas knows Sito.”
Samuel agreed. “Fortune smiles on us again.”
Torik clawed at the dirt. “As long as we get to spend it.”
Sito looked at Olim. Fear filled his eyes as he gripped his friend’s arm. “Don’t do it. You know you can’t escape them. They will chase you down. Oh dear. You know Lugah wouldn’t let you do this. I know you. First Lugah, now you.”
“Then you know I’m right. Relax. As long as they are chasing me, they won’t be chasing you.” Olim turned his head as a tear rolled down his face. “Time to go, Scales. We will rid ourselves of these Methuselans in time to meet up with Lugah.”
Sito looked up at the sky. The last of the three planets had begun to fade. “Yes, yes. Of course,” he replied, full of dismay.
Olim ran along the edge of the tree line. Samuel watched across the open field as Lucas ushered four young Ferals into the back of the wooden wagon. He secured the door, jumped onto the top of the wagon’s deck, and ducked under a cover, hidden from view.
“That’s it? That’s his plan?” muttered Samuel. His shoulders fell. “I thought this kid had a plan.”
“Hey, at least he had the foresight to get some of the children out.”
“I guess so. Listen up. We are going to have to pull that wagon to safety.”
“What are you talking about? That’s a steam wagon.”
They looked at Sito with blank expressions.
Sito sighed and shook his head at their ignorance. “It runs on steam. We take a blue emerald and expose it to pressure, which causes it to become very hot.” Comforted by the familiarity of science, Sito settled into his teaching voice—all traces panic gone. “Then we take water and channel it through wee narr—”
“Torik. Does it work?” Samuel interrupted.
“It works,” said Torik.
“Why have we never heard of this?”
Dee smiled at Samuel. “Why have we never heard of you?”
“Point taken. I expect to learn all this stuff when I return. Until then, good luck.” Samuel held out his hand.
Torik and Dee shook it in confusion. “We can go?” asked Dee.
“Of course. You’ve done everything as per the agreement.”
They smiled at the men and turned away. They took a few steps, then sprinted for the safety of the Great Portal.
Samuel watched Olim as he crossed the field, waving at the black-armored Apothecaries to gain their attention.
“What’s he doing, Sito?”
“You told him to create a diversion.”
The Apothecaries stopped what they were doing and pointed at Olim. One of them stepped away from a young child and walked out of the village, his heavy two-handed war hammer held across his chest. The Apothecary’s voice boomed across the field.
“Down on your stomach!”
Olim stood there. The Apothecary showed no fear as his strides brought him closer to the Feral rat. From Samuel’s vantage point, it looked rather comical—a tiny, six-foot Apothecary trying to dominate a gigantic rat.
“I said down on your stomach!”
Olim stood firm. The Apothecary raised his hammer to strike.
“Get ready for the diversion,” said Sito, wringing his hands in fear for his friend.
“That’s not a diversion. It’s just one Apothecary!” Samuel complained.
Suddenly, the Apothecary’s head toppled to the ground, as Olim’s tail came to rest. Witnessing the execution, the other Apothecaries roared in anger at Olim. Raising their weapons, they ran out to meet him. Olim bowed and steadied himself as the Apothecaries attacked.
“Insane!” Samuel gasped. “The rat’s insane!”
“You told him to create a diversion. Now run!”
“I thought he would start a fire in the woods or something.”
“You wanted it. Oh dear. That’s all been done before. They would just ignore it, or someone out on their own. A fight is the only thing that would have worked. Run, Olim, run!”
The men ran across the field to the wagon. Olim held his ground against the three Apothecaries that encircled him. One of them swung his hammer, missing the agile Feral as he leapt into the air. His tail struck two of the Apothecaries in a sweeping attack, knocking them to the ground. He landed behind the third Apothecary, grabbed an arm and a leg, and tore the Apothecary’s limbs off.
Olim felt the blow of the heavy hammer across the back of his head. He staggered but remained standing. Blood ran from his nose and eyes. Another blow struck him in the chest, crushing his ribs. Bone fragments splintered into his heart and lungs.
“No!” Sito cried out, reaching his arms out to his fallen friend. Samuel grabbed the chameleon and pulled him along.
“We can’t help him now! Run, Sito!”
Inside the village, Bishop Belle looked out across the field. She lifted a spy scope to her eye as the small group arrived at the wagon.
“Finish the rat, it’s a diversion!” she yelled, and gave chase.
Olim gasped for air as the Apothecary reached down, blocking out the sun.
In the end, he smiled as his life flashed by. Memories of growing up with Lugah. The endless tricks they played at the expense of others. The joy in his coming of age, and the start of his raiding life. He smiled at the lifelong bonds he had forged with Lugah, and the other members of Team Bombdiggity. The constant reprimands from Honey and Sito. The endless successes they had, traveling to other planets and stealing its secrets.
“No!” Sito shouted, helpless to save his friend. He watched in horror as the Apothecary’s gauntleted hand met the side of Olim’s skull.
“How do we work this, Sito?” Samuel shouted, as they climbed onto the wagon.
Makeshift steel bolts reinforced the huge wagon’s ten-foot frame. The top of the wagon was a fixed deck, made from small logs strapped together with plaited rope. In the middle of the deck, thick plates of iron secured a cast-iron funnel.
Samuel froze as the cold steel of a blade rested against his neck.
“Who are you, human? You’re no fox.”
“Lucas?” said Sito, peering behind Samuel. Tears streaked his face.
“Sito? What are you doing with these humans? What’s wrong?”
“No time, Lucas, no time. Where do you keep the stone?”
Lucas reached under the seat, retrieved the blue emerald, and handed it to Sito.
“Thank you, Lucas.” He opened the lid of the funnel and placed it inside.
“You better hurry,” Lucas whispered. “She’s almost here.”
Alarmed at his words, four of the men ran to the back of deck the. Sito couldn’t control the fear that coursed through him. He changed colors with increasing speed, like a rainbow that swirled over his body. Belle ran faster, closing in on the wagon. Her high heels did not slow her down. Steam spewed from its funnel and it moved forward. The wagon picked up speed, but the Bishop still gained on them.
“She’s almost on us!” shouted one of the men.
“Don’t let her get a hold,” said another.
Bishop Belle lunged at the wagon. She fell to the ground and rolled forward with the momentum to land back on her feet. Wasting no time, she resumed her pursuit. The iron funnel spewed out more steam as the wagon bounced over the rough trail. The children inside jolted from side to side.
“Wise words,” said a gentle voice.
Lucas stood and turned. He trembled in fear as Belle punched through the chest of one of the foxes. The man tumbled off the cart and rolled off the path. She spun around, kicking two more from the cart onto the gravel.
The remaining guard charged at her, but she was too fast. She leapt into the air and kicked him in the head. He stood dazed, as her delicate fingers gripped his forehead.
“Who are you?” she demanded.
The guard struggled to free himself. Samuel handed the steering ropes to Sito.
“What are you going to do? You left your weapons in the bush!”
“Did we?” He reached over his shoulder and, from nowhere, drew his staff and attacked.
“My, what a pretty weapon,” said Belle, deflecting his initial assault.
“Thank you, Bishop. I thought you would appreciate it.”
With a mighty thud, Samuel struck Belle across the side of her face to no effect. She smiled back at Samuel, protected by her magical skin.
“Is that it? You said I would appreciate it. Ophidia does not tolerate liars.”
Samuel ducked her high kick, and struck her again. She squeezed her fingers tighter against the forehead of her captive, killing him. He crumpled to the deck and rolled off the side.
“That’s better. Now you have my complete attention.”
Samuel seemed to disappear as she leapt into the air preparing to strike. Confused, she landed and spun on her feet. Another loud thud filled the air as Samuel struck from behind. His attack failed. He swung again and again. Belle stood there, unfazed by his strikes. She moved toward him. Samuel backed away. He reached into his pocket and held the vial of purple poison that would end his life.
“Which Feral tribe do you belong to? I don’t recognize you from this village.”
Samuel’s feet teetered at the edge of the deck as Lucas moved forward. Belle studied Samuel.
“Foxes aren’t from around here. They are towards the south. They prefer the colder climate and are not a warrior caste. What are you doing here?”
Samuel looked at the sky. The sun neared its apex. Sito followed his eyes and grabbed the small red marble in his pocket.
“Ah... so you think the alignment will save you. Are you rushing to meet the Aazronians? The Great Portal is that way, foolish fox.” She pointed in the opposite direction to which they were traveling.
Before Samuel could react, Belle clenched his forehead in her vice-like grip. He screamed in agony as the pressure compressed his skull.
“Tell me who you are!” she demanded. His illusion began to flicker.
“An illusion?” She looked down at his fingers and grabbed the ring. “Who are you?”
Samuel pulled the poison vile from his pocket and smashed it against Belle’s skin. He laughed as he replied, “At least I will be remembered for taking out a Bishop.”
“Who will remember the man in the mask?” she replied, as her fingers tightened.
Samuel cried out in agony as the pressure increased.
“You think poison will kill me?” Her skin secreted a black dye, neutralizing the poison. “No, fox. I will not die today.” She grinned. “And neither shall you.”
Samuel looked in horror at his black hand. Blood trickled from his nose as he passed out. Belle’s grip around his head kept him upright.
“Loyalty. An admirable trait. The mightiest trait of all, and one not to be wasted. You will serve Ophidia well.”
The black dye oozed up Samuel’s arm towards his mouth.
“Don’t let it near his mouth!” shouted Sito.
“Coward!” Lucas taunted. “You can take on foxes and babies, but you can’t take on a real warrior. I am Lucas, son of Lugah. Under Methuselan law, I claim that you are a murderer, and challenge you to trial by combat.”
Belle screamed in frustration and released her grip on Samuel, who fell to the deck. She turned and glared at Lucas. Still a child, he matched her in height, but not in strength or battle prowess.
“The world will not mourn the loss of another dead Feral. I will strike you down in front of Ophidia herself for your insult. My honor is impeccable. I am a true servant of Her—”
Lucas reacted with ferocious anger. Overwhelmed with rage, he kicked at the iron funnel. Hot steam scalded Belle’s eyes. She grabbed at them, stumbling across the deck in pain. Lucas grabbed the hot iron lid in his palms, and pointed the scalding steam into her face again. Her eyelids blistered from the heat. The whites of her eyes turned red as tiny blood vessels boiled and erupted. She took a step back and fell off the wagon.
“Ophidia! I win!” Lucas shouted to the sky.
He ran to Samuel and dragged him to the front of the wagon. Lucas looked up again and shouted. “I won, Ophidia! Honor the challenge!”
The black ooze receded from Samuel’s neck, down his arms, and out of his fingertips onto the deck. Lucas scooped it up with the iron lid, and threw it over the edge as the wagon continued on its way. Samuel stirred.
After a time, Sito pulled the wagon to a stop. “It’s time to go.” He threw the red glowing marble in front of him. As the smoke dissipated, a magical wooden door appeared.
Lucas opened the wagon door. The four Feral children clambered out and hugged him. When they saw Sito, smiles filled their faces.
“Come on, children. We can’t stay,” Samuel ordered.
“Where are we going?”
“It’s okay,” said Sito. “You’re going somewhere safe.”
Samuel slapped Lucas on the back. “Well done, Lucas. You remind me of a young prince back home. He tends to make dangerous challenges as well. Perhaps it would be best if the both of you never met.” Lucas stared at Samuel confused. Samuel pointed at the door. “You head in first. I will follow after.”
Lucas looked at Sito for confirmation. Sito nodded. He opened the door, and they walked through the portal.
“You too, Sito. You’re not safe here either.”
“But Olim! We must go back for Olim. There’s still a chance...”
Samuel shook his head. “I’m sure there is, but do you think that Bishop will just let us go? Her eyes will be healed by now and she’ll be running down that road.”
Sito sniffed the air. “Oh dear, I guess not.”
“Come on, let’s go home.”
Sito froze. “You sent them to Methuselah? Oh dear, oh dear. I thought we were going to the m-m-moons?”
“You’re supposed to be the geek. That alignment isn’t for the moons…or Methuselah.”
“Then that leaves...”
“Come on, let’s go.” Samuel smiled. “My home is Aazronia, and you can call me Samael.”
