Rise of the Whiteface Order

by M. A. Torres

  Viktor laughed.

  Chapter Fourteen:

  The Crystal Field

  “See anything suspicious, Robbie?” asked Olivia as she scanned the forest with her binoculars.

  “Not at this end. How about you?”

  “Nothing but trees and squirrels.” Olivia lowered the binoculars and picked up a BB gun. She raised it to her shoulder, aimed, and shot—hitting the can Robbie had set up on a chair yards away.

  “Good shot. I heard it hit,” said Robbie. He was still scanning his end of the forest with his own pair of binoculars.

  “Thanks,” Olivia sighed, then aimed her gun at the can, which was now on the ground. Her shot hit once again.

  “Awesome!” cheered Robbie. “You are a natural!”

  Olivia lowered the gun. “I can definitely get used to this.”

  “I thought you liked whips,” said Robbie.

  “I do.” She opened her bag and pulled out the whip she’d used to fight the scarecrow.

  “Do you think there’s a magic whip in Derathiel?” Robbie asked.

  “Maybe... I saw the goddess holding one in the painting at Castle Randall.”

  “Right... and if Flameclaw and Tombstone are real, I’m sure the other weapons are too.”

  “That means there could also be a magic bow,” concluded Olivia.

  Robbie nodded excitedly.

  The following hour was more of the same. The pair stared out into the forest, vigilant for any abnormality. Nothing was raising a red flag, however, and the boredom was making their stomachs growl with hunger. Robbie chewed on some beef jerky, and Olivia ate a granola bar.

  Minutes later, Robbie sighed and grabbed the backpack holding Maviel’s Mirror. He swung it over his shoulder. “I don’t like waiting here like a sitting duck. Let’s go scout the area.”

  He took his BB gun and exited the tent, followed by Olivia. The two progressed into the forest, BB guns in hand, scanning the surrounding terrain.

  “Your brother and sister were really cool,” Robbie said as they ambled through the rough forest terrain.

  “Thank you. Yes, they’ve always been super cool.”

  “Do you hang out with them a lot?”

  “Not a lot. Maybe once or twice a year. They’ll come visit my stepfather for his birthday, or we’ll go celebrate theirs. You have any brothers or sisters Robbie?” she asked.

  “Nah. I’m an only child. It’s just my dad and me.”

  “Oh.”

  “My mother left when I was a baby.”

  “Oh, sorry to hear that, Robbie.”

  “Ah, it’s okay. My dad and I are happy.”

  The daylight dimmed as they progressed into the thickening forest. The pines grew thinner but more numerous, slowing their progress. It was another world beneath the cover of the soaring pines. The ground was wet, soft, and free of snow. The air was crisp and felt cold but moist inside their lungs.

  Minutes later, they were hiking through dense brush, with nothing but trunks around them. The clearing beyond the forest was no longer visible. Olivia had never been so deep into the woods without an adult, but she felt safe with Robbie as her guide. He seemed at home inside the woods, and that was reassuring.

  They stayed the course for another ten minutes, when Robbie suddenly paused. He held up a hand and signaled ahead. Olivia noticed a few deer off in the distance, staring right back at them. Seconds later, the deer scurried away, out of sight into the distant trees.

  “Let’s head back. If there was anything threatening further ahead, the deer would not have run in that direction,” observed Robbie.

  “Makes sense,” she replied.

  They began the return trek down a different path, scanning more of the surrounding forest. Robbie led the way, watching the area to his right while Olivia watched the area to the left.

  Minutes later, they came upon a twisted tree—similar to the Dancing Tree, but with a thicker trunk that twisted to the right and branches that grew horizontally in the same direction. They paused and observed it.

  “I thought the Dancing Tree was weird,” mentioned Olivia.

  Robbie ran his hand down the trunk. “Interesting. Not even Alaska has trees this odd.” He looked up at one of the low-lying branches. “It would interest me to see a branch up close.”

  Olivia took her whip and uncoiled it. With a swing of her arm, she flung the end of the whip overhead, wrapping it tightly around the branch. She tugged on it twice to make sure it was secure, then tugged harder and harder, bringing the branch closer to the ground.

  Robbie reached and grabbed it. He pulled out a hunting knife and cut through it as Olivia released the whip. Seconds later, the branch came off, and Robbie inspected it.

  “Seems normal,” he observed as he turned it every which way. “Wonder what made it grow this way...”

  Suddenly, a cap of snow came crashing down on him. Olivia hopped back, startled, then smiled at seeing Robbie covered in a heap of snow.

  “Robbie, are you okay?” she chuckled.

  He shook the snow off his head, then swiped the rest off his shoulders. “Yeah, didn’t see that coming!”

  They looked upwards.

  “We must have shaken the snow loose from the top branches,” concluded Olivia, still smiling.

  “Yeah, we must have.”

  They continued their journey back towards the tent. Olivia had no clue where they were, and wouldn’t have been able to distinguish north from south or east from west if it wasn’t for Robbie’s compass. They walked for what seemed an eternity when, suddenly, a snowball zoomed out of nowhere and struck Olivia on her shoulder.

  “Hey!”

  Robbie was smiling, squatting, and cupping another snowball.

  “Oh! You want a snowball fight? I’ll give you a snowball fight!”

  Olivia rushed to the nearest snow heap, ducking Robbie’s shot along the way. She knelt and scooped up some snow, cupped it, and hurled the snowball at Robbie, barely missing his head. Robbie rushed towards her, his arm raised and ready to launch, but Olivia scurried behind a thick pine. He paused, waiting for her to emerge from the opposite side, but she never did. He crept forward, circling the tree trunk, ready to hurl his snowball, but she was not there. Robbie spun and rushed around the opposite way, but Olivia wasn’t there either.

  “Olivia?” he called out in confusion.

  SMACK!

  “Ah!” Robbie’s head was splattered with snow. He glanced up and saw Olivia on the tree, laughing hysterically.

  Robbie swiped the snow off his head, then threw his snowball towards her, missing widely. Olivia jumped off and ran as Robbie prepared another snowball.

  “I’ll get you!” he hollered.

  He chased Olivia through the woods, trying to close in and launch his shot, but she was fast and athletic, and closing the gap was proving an arduous task. He sprinted as best he could; dodging pines and forest debris and hopping over rocks as quickly as possible, but Olivia maintained her distance.

  His arms and legs fatigued, and the pain of cramping started at his side. He noticed Olivia had ceased running up ahead. Robbie slowed to a jog, holding his left side and panting. Exhausted, he walked the rest of the way. He reached her moments later, but she seemed transfixed on something up ahead.

  “Oli... Olivia... what’s... what’s going on?” he asked between breaths.

  Olivia stood motionless. She didn’t respond with words. She raised her hand and pointed.

  Robbie looked ahead and gasped. The earth before them was covered in crystalline saplings. They varied in size—some were as tall as them, while others were only waist high. What didn’t vary was their crystal leaves. Even in the faint light of the overcast sky, they glittered like a sparkling lake at sunset.

  “Are those what I think they are?” said Robbie.

  Olivia didn’t answer. She entered the crystalline field, a look of disbelief still present on her face. She kneeled by a sapling and inspected its leaves. Robbie did the same
with another.

  “Robbie, these are the trees from Derathiel,” she said.

  “What are they doing here?” thought Robbie out loud, knowing neither of them had the answer.

  Olivia shook her head. “I have no clue... but we must let the others know.”

  They stood.

  “Let’s hurry back then,” he said. “They’ll be back soon.”

  Robbie nodded and they rushed towards the tent.

  Chapter Fifteen:

  Judge, Jury, and Executioner

  “What a compliment—to be considered the famed god of fire speaks volumes for our show, right fellas?” Viktor Embers glanced at his companions, chuckling.

  The three men laughed—the one wearing black velvet laughed the loudest.

  “Gods don’t walk amongst men, young one. They have more pressing things to do. Besides, I have never heard of the young knight you speak of... Jey. You must be mistaken.”

  “I am not mistaken, and neither was Jey. If you’re not Brealin, then I’m sure you know where we can find him.”

  Viktor smiled. “You are a stubborn boy. Pushy, too. I’m surprised those traits haven gotten you killed yet.”

  Kevin sighed. “Please, Viktor... it’s a matter of life and death. I have his sword, Flameclaw.”

  “Do you now? May I see it.”

  “It’s in my bag. I had to hand it to him before the show.” He pointed to the man wearing black velvet.

  “Virgil, is this true?” asked Viktor.

  Virgil nodded. “There was a sword in there. I can bring it... if you like.”

  Viktor turned to Kevin. “Very well. I may be able to take you to Brealin, but it will be quite the journey. Deep into the mountains to the west—four days, to be exact. I will have to cancel one of our shows, so I will expect to be reimbursed... in gold.”

  “Four days?” Kevin glanced at his friends.

  “That trip would take too long. We would need to stay here until Sunday night, Wakefield time,” said Matthew.

  “Yes, Kevin. We’re already at the limits of our time,” said Jake.

  Kevin thought for a moment. “I’ll stay behind, then. I’ll make the trip.”

  “Kevin, what will we tell your mom? She’ll get worried sick. You lost your phone too, remember?” argued Matthew.

  “Guys, I have no choice. What else can I do? I must go; this is very important.”

  Jake shook his head. “You don’t even have your horse! How will you travel?”

  “You don’t have a horse?” asked Viktor.

  “No. All our horses were stolen. Maybe you’ve seen the thief before—he was a young boy with white hair,” explained Kevin.

  Viktor nodded and smiled. “Were his eyes clear as glass?”

  Kevin nodded. “Yes!”

  “In fact, I have seen that young pest around. I know where he hides out too.” He turned to the light-skinned bald man and snapped his fingers. “Olee, take Arnon with you and bring the boy thief immediately!”

  Olee and Arnon bowed their bald heads and rushed out of the room. Kevin and his friends exchanged a glance of relief.

  “Thank you so much, Viktor,” said Kevin.

  “Save it until we retrieve your lost belongings. Pray he hasn’t already sold them.”

  “What can we do if he has?” asked Sven.

  “We can track them down. Luckily for you, Olee and Arnon work for the city guard. It is their job to maintain order in Whitestaff by enforcing Lord Whitefield’s laws. That’s their day job, if you will. The thief will be punished physically, and anyone who knowingly buys stolen goods from him will lose half of all they own.”

  “Wait, you said the thief will be punished physically?” asked Sven.

  “Yes.”

  “What type of physical punishment?”

  “It depends on the value of the stolen goods. A well-bred horse, young and healthy, will result in a loss of his hands, at minimum.”

  Kevin and Jake gulped.

  “A loss of his hands? You will actually cut off the thief’s hands?” asked Kevin.

  “Before your very eyes. You can do it yourselves, if you’d like, as you were the victimized party. Thieves use their hands to commit their crimes. A just punishment is to lose that which was used to commit the sin. It’s the law of our land.”

  “This boy stole four horses,” added Sven, warily.

  “Four horses? That will cost him his hands, his feet, and at least fifty slashes of the whip,” informed Viktor.

  “Would there be a trial?” asked Matthew.

  “Olee and Arnon will be judges and executioners. It is their right, as officers of the city guard.”

  “Oh, man,” cried Jake.

  Minutes later, Olee and Arnon barged in, carrying the young thief by his arms. The boy was blindfolded, and his hands and feet were secured with a thick brown rope. Olee and Arnon tossed him on the floor before the boys. Then Viktor knelt beside him and removed the young boy’s blindfold.

  “That him?” he asked.

  It was him. His pale eyes and white hair were unmistakable.

  “Don’t punish him,” said Kevin.

  “Well, that’s not for you to decide,” Viktor turned to Olee. “Did you find the horses?”

  “No. We just found this bag in his possession.” Olee tossed Kevin’s backpack on the floor. Kevin picked it up and opened it. His phone and all his food were still inside.

  “I take it that was yours?” asked Viktor.

  Kevin nodded.

  Viktor lifted the boy held him to his face. “WHERE ARE THE HORSES?!”

  “I... I... sold ’em,” he responded, his voice trembling with fear.

  He sold them? No! Lady, Blitz, Comet... gone!

  “Who did you sell them to?”

  “They’re long gone by now. Sold ’em to some men just outside the city gates. They were traveling north.”

  “How long ago was this?”

  “Uh, about an hour... maybe more.”

  Viktor shook his head. “You’re right. It would be difficult to find them now that night is upon us. And they’ll be long gone by daylight.” He dropped the boy back onto the floor and looked up at Olee and Arnon. “Deliver justice.”

  They moved fast and lifted the boy by his shoulders. He kicked and squirmed, trying to break free, but Olee and Arnon were powerful men. They dragged him to the iron chair with the leather straps and forced him on. They cut his restraints, then fastened his limbs to the chair. Arnon reached behind the pillar and pulled out a large metal machete, its blade sharp and clean.

  “Take his right hand first!” ordered Viktor.

  “No, please! I’ll get ’em horses back, I swear!”

  The boy cried, pleading for mercy. His hands trembled, and his legs jerked and kicked in the restraints. His eyes were swollen and soaked with tears.

  Arnon approached him and raised his machete.

  “WAIT, WAIT, WAIT!” hollered Kevin.

  “YES, STOP, PLEASE!” screamed Matthew.

  Arnon paused.

  “We don’t want him punished. We forgive him!” pleaded Kevin.

  “Yes, don’t hurt the kid!” said Jake.

  “He broke our laws. He must be punished,” argued Olee.

  “He wronged us! And we forgive him!” said Kevin.

  “The gift of mercy doesn’t negate the crime committed. Whitestaff has laws, and they were broken. Broken laws result in consequences for those responsible,” explained Olee. He gave a nod, and Arnon turned back to the young thief.

  “Hands first, then ankles,” ordered Olee.

  Jake turned away. “I can’t watch this!”

  Matthew covered his eyes.

  “I GAVE HIM OUR HORSES! They were his to do as he pleased!” screamed Kevin.

  The young thief was crying like the child he was. Arnon raised the machete above his head, ready to strike, and looked back at Viktor for approval.

  Viktor shook his head. “I don’t believe you, boy. He stole those hors
es, and your bag.”

  “No, he didn’t! We gave them to him!”

  “Yes, we did!” added Matthew.

  “Uh-huh!” agreed Jake.

  Sven nodded.

  Viktor smiled. “I admire your mercy, boys. With time, however, you will realize that compassion is but a foolish trait, and those you are quick to forgive will be those who later condemn you with impunity.” He gave Arnon a quick shake of the head, and Arnon lowered the machete. “We will compromise with you. We will not remove any limbs, but he will be whipped. Twenty-five lashes per horse.”

  Arnon and Olee unstrapped the sobbing boy from the iron chair and dragged him to the wooden support beam in the middle of the room. They wrapped his arms around the beam and secured them together. Then, Olee ripped the shirt off the boy’s back, leaving him bare. The boy was nothing but skin and bones, his shoulder blades jutting like shark fins from his back.

  Seconds later, Arnon handed Viktor a long, leather whip. Viktor ran his hand across it, lighting it up with bright yellow flames.

  “Stand tall and take your punishment like a man!” ordered Viktor, the burning whip in his hand.

  “NO! NO! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” screamed the young thief, the tears running down both of his cheeks.

  “STOP!” Kevin rushed up, placing himself between Viktor and the boy. “Look at him! He’s just a kid! He will die if you slash him with that whip!”

  “Mercy has been given! He will not lose his limbs, but a punishment must be served! It is the law!” exclaimed Viktor.

  Kevin glanced around the room, yearning for some solution to make itself known. He shook his head and took off his shirt.

  “I will take his punishment for him... whip me.”

  Viktor exchanged a glance with his men, a perplexed smile upon his face.

  Jake and Matthew rushed forward.

  “Kevin, what are you doing?” asked Jake.

  “Yeah, Kevin, that whip is going to scar you for life,” said Matthew.

  “Guys, look at him! He’s just a little kid. Lord Frederick died by my hand. I won’t have this kid’s life on my conscience too.” Kevin untied the young thief’s hands. The boy staggered to the corner of the room and dropped to his knees, crying and sobbing.