by Sally Green
Edyon was beginning to wonder if there was alcohol in the drinks being handed out. He tried to quell their mirth. “I know it doesn’t sound either powerful or terrifying. It sounds absurd. But I can prove that it’s quite real. And that brings me to the other item that I carried with me from Pitoria: purple demon smoke.”
Edyon raised the bottle of smoke for his audience to see. But in the heat, sweat had run down his arm, and as he raised his hand—possibly with a little more enthusiasm than was needed—the bottle swung up and out of his slippery fingers. It tumbled through the air, falling down toward the ground. Edyon watched in horror. He couldn’t let the bottle break, and so he flailed after it, tripping and stumbling and somehow managing not to catch it but to knock it sideways.
Thelonius frowned, some of the lords laughed, and Lord Regan rolled his eyes. However, Byron, the older of the two demonstrators, stepped nimbly forward and caught the bottle.
Edyon muttered thanks to Byron and cautiously took the bottle back and held it up. “This strange purple smoke es-caped from a demon as it died.”
“It nearly escaped from you too, Your Highness,” some-one called out to more laughter.
“Indeed it did, though when smoke leaves a demon, it doesn’t slip from its hands but exits the mouth in a long stream.” Edyon tried to look serious. “This purple smoke comes from young demons. You perhaps know that the older demons release a red smoke that is used by some in Pitoria as an illegal pleasure drug—though I’m sure none here have ever tried it.”
This remark was met by laughter too, though Edyon was relieved that now it seemed to be with him rather than directed against him. “This purple smoke has much more sinister uses. If it is inhaled by young people, adolescent boys or girls, it can give them great strength and speed. It also has the power to heal quickly, almost miraculously. It sounds like a wonderful drug. But in the wrong hands—in the hands of Aloysius—it could be used for war.
“But it’s better if I demonstrate the power of the smoke, and then the implications will be clear. Sir Byron and Sir Ellis have volunteered to assist me by inhaling a small amount of the smoke and then showing you how their strength and speed are altered.”
Edyon was satisfied to see that his audience was now watching intently. Byron let the cork out of the bottle for just a moment so that a wisp of purple smoke could escape. Some of the lords stepped closer to see as Byron and Ellis inhaled the smoke.
“I thought they were going to turn purple,” someone called out.
“The smoke doesn’t affect appearance, my lord, just ability—and it is already working on Byron and Ellis, as they will now demonstrate. First of all, Ellis will show you his running speed. He will chase down Byron, who will be on horseback.”
In practice both of the young men had handled the drug well, without going giddy and light-headed—the effect the smoke had on Edyon. So Edyon was confident that this simple demonstration would go smoothly. Byron mounted and set off at a gallop. Edyon shouted, “Catch him, Ellis!” And Ellis set off. However, Ellis now seemed a little distracted by the lords. He ran past them all first, as if to show off his speed, before turning to chase after Byron, who was already half-way across the field. Soon they were both disappearing into the distance.
Lord Hunt shouted, “Are they off to Brigant to fight?”
It did almost seem that way, but Edyon replied, “Ellis is now catching Byron.” Thankfully, Ellis seemed to find an even faster pace, caught up with Byron’s horse, and leaped high to cling to Byron’s back. However, by this stage they were at the far end of the field.
“It looked like Byron slowed the horse,” someone com-mented. “Though it’s hard to tell from here.”
“I can’t see a thing,” another lord complained.
“He slowed the horse,” said another. “But even so, it’s faster than I could run.”
“My lords, don’t worry. We’ll repeat the demonstration in this direction.” Edyon tried to sound like it had all been planned this way. “You’ll have a perfect view.” And Edyon ran across the field, waving his arms to Byron, who thank-fully rode over to him before Edyon had gone far, and quickly understood the problem, saying, “We’ll do it right in front of them next time. Signal when you’re ready.”
Edyon ran back to his position.
Lord Regan asked, “Is all well, Prince Edyon?”
“Yes, fine. Thank you, Lord Regan.”
But Edyon waited. And waited. And nothing happened.
Shits, the signal.
Edyon waved his arm and Byron set off, galloping to-ward the group. Ellis waited a moment before setting off at a dramatic pace. Horse, rider, and runner came hurtling to-ward the group of lords. Some were already stepping to the side as Ellis leaped up onto the horse’s back and grappled By-ron to the ground. Both young men fell to the earth as the horse ran through the marquee, knocking a table of drinks over and sending lords and servants scrambling.
“Well, we can’t say we didn’t see it that time,” Lord Hunt commented.
“Exactly,” Edyon replied, though he felt like screaming. Why did things always go wrong for him?
Edyon’s father, however, came to the rescue with a seri-ous question. “The boy has impressive speed. How long before it wears off?”
Edyon was relieved to reply in an equally serious man-ner. “Ellis could run at that pace all afternoon. He could repeat what he’s just done a hundred times over. He’s not even out of breath. And Byron is unhurt from his fall, as the smoke heals any cuts or bruises instantly. An army of boys on foot could outpace soldiers on horseback.”
“Very good, Edyon.” Thelonius nodded and clapped. Many of the lords joined in, though Edyon noticed that Lord Hunt and some others near him did not.
“We’ll demonstrate the spear next,” Edyon said.
“Will we need protection?” Lord Hunt asked.
“Step back, everyone,” Lord Birtwistle joked.
Edyon smiled and ignored them. “I’ve chosen the spear to demonstrate how the smoke gives power without reducing accuracy. As you can see, there are targets painted on those gates. I don’t think even the best spearman in the Calidorian army could get his spear to fly that distance, but Byron and Ellis will hit the bull’s-eye.”
Byron and Ellis picked up their weapons and launched their spears as Edyon muttered, “Please don’t miss. Please don’t kill anyone.”
But the spears flew with perfect accuracy, landing so hard that they almost split the wood of the targets.
Some of the lords whistled and there were a few com-ments of “impressive” and “impossible.”
“And just once more,” Edyon said. “Though Ellis and Byron could do this with the same force and accuracy a hun-dred times, our gates would not stand it.” And the throws were repeated with the same results.
Thelonius clapped again, and now most of the lords joined in.
“And how are they with a sword?” Lord Hunt asked.
“We’re doing that next, Lord Hunt,” Edyon replied. “Ellis and Byron will spar for you, showing their speed and agility.”
“It would be more relevant to see how they’d fare against an ordinary soldier,” Lord Hunt said.
“It would be too dangerous, I’m afraid,” Edyon replied.
“Well, I’d like to think I’m not that ordinary a soldier, but I’ll risk a bruise or two,” Regan said, stepping forward and drawing his sword. “I want to feel the boys’ strength. Byron, come at me. Just don’t kill me, and I’ll do you the same courtesy. I’ve only just recovered from one stabbing.”
Regan didn’t mention that the stabbing had been at the hands of March and his compatriot, Holywell. He didn’t have to.
“I’m delighted you’re entering into the spirit of the dem-onstration, Lord Regan.” Edyon looked over to Byron and nodded. “Lord Regan wants to feel your strength, Byron. Let him fe
el it.”
Please don’t hold back. But please don’t kill him either.
Byron smiled. “I’ll just disarm you, Lord Regan. I don’t wish to—”
Regan slashed at him with his sword, hoping to catch him unawares, but Byron parried the attack, retaliating with a hard swing to Regan’s raised sword, knocking it from his hands, and then somehow Byron was standing, dagger at Regan’s throat, making a pretend slice across it. Byron held the position for a moment before moving back gracefully and bowing to Regan. It was all terribly quick but rather beautiful.
Goodness me. Byron’s someone to watch.
Regan rubbed his hand, clearly in a little discomfort, though he was trying to hide it. The lords were clapping and laughing.
“Byron’s strength is impressive, but his speed is amaz-ing,” Thelonius said. “Normally he wouldn’t get close to you, Regan.”
Edyon was delighted.
“And what’s this about healing?” Lord Hunt asked. “Are we going to get to see that too?”
They hadn’t rehearsed this, but it was important.
Edyon said, “Injuries heal faster when you’ve inhaled smoke, but the fastest way to heal is to apply smoke directly to the skin. Perhaps if I have a cut, Ellis can heal it.” Edyon really didn’t want to cut himself. But Byron had a dagger at the ready, and he stepped forward, already slicing the blade across the palm of his own hand, saying, “Your Highness, allow me.”
Byron really is rather heroic. And, yes, I most certainly will allow it.
Byron was now holding out his hand, dripping blood, to show the audience. Ellis inhaled the smoke and bent his head to Byron’s hand, while Edyon commentated: “It looks a little strange, but Ellis is holding the smoke in his mouth and put-ting his mouth over the wound. The smoke is in contact with Byron’s broken skin. And Ellis will hold his position there for as long as he can and then, when he releases . . .” At that, El-lis lifted his head, blood on his lips and cheek, and Byron held his hand out. There was blood around the wound, but the cut itself was already healed and scarred over.
The lords murmured to one another and passed around the bottle, all wanting to feel its strange heat and weight.
“How much of this do the Brigantines have?” someone asked.
“I don’t know exactly,” Edyon replied. “But that’s the smoke of just one demon and, as you can see, it can provide enough for many inhalations. There are many demons in the demon world. If Aloysius can capture and kill them all, he’d have enough smoke to fuel a huge boy army. They’d have the strength to take over the world.”
“And he’ll try, if I know my brother,” Thelonius said. “He’s a threat to us and to the Pitorians.”
Edyon was so heartened by this response to the demonstration that he went one step further and added, “This is why King Tzsayn asked that Calidor join with Pitoria to work as one. Together we have a better chance of standing against the Brigantines.”
“Together?” Lord Hunt asked. “With Pitorians?” He looked around at the other lords with an exaggerated expression of disgust on his face.
“Yes, together,” Edyon said. “Working with others who are threatened by Aloysius.”
“We don’t need to work with them. We can defend ourselves.”
“Not against an army fueled by smoke,” Edyon replied.
Thelonius stepped to Edyon’s side. “I fear my son is right. Against a conventional army, even the Brigantine army, I believe we can hold firm. We’ve done it before. But this demon smoke changes things.”
“But, Your Highness, we’ve spent the last decade build-ing our defenses.” Hunt turned to Edyon. “The demon smoke gives strength and speed, but does it protect from fire?”
“Um . . . I don’t think so. I’ve not actually tried that.”
“We need to see it. That is a key part of our wall defense strategy.”
“And that is what I will now demonstrate,” Regan said, striding forward.
“But we didn’t agree to this, Lord Regan,” Edyon said.
Regan ignored him and addressed Thelonius and the lords. “It’s all very well seeing Ellis and Byron run after horses, but I’ve set up an example of what invaders will have to overcome at our wall. This will be a truer test of the power of the smoke.”
Regan led the group over to his soldiers, who were stand-ing by two stone walls divided by a wide ditch. The ditch was full of broken wood that was being lit, and there must have been pitch or oil in with the wood, because the flames were soon leaping high. Edyon had heard much about the huge defense wall along the northern border of Calidor, which had been built since the last war. This appeared to be of the same design, and though not as big, it still looked formidable. Clearly Regan had spent some time putting this together, and clearly he had avoided telling Edyon anything about it.
“All Byron and Ellis have to do is cross from that side—Brigant—to this side—Calidor,” Regan said.
“No,” Edyon replied, looking at the flames. “It’s too dangerous, and we shouldn’t ask them to try.”
“The walls here are far lower than those on the border and the ditch isn’t as wide or deep, and you’re already saying this is too formidable?” Regan scoffed. “Suddenly this all-powerful smoke is not so powerful.”
Ellis, however, was eyeing the flames. “I can make it.”
“No, you can’t,” Edyon said, moving to block Ellis’s path. “This is what happens: the smoke makes you feel invincible, but you’re not.”
Regan smiled. “Interesting. Now we’re learning some-thing useful.”
“I can do it!” Ellis said, and he nimbly ran round Edyon and sprinted toward the wall.
“No! Ellis. Stop! I order it!” Edyon shouted after him. But it was too late. Ellis was already bouldering on to the first wall, from which he made a huge leap up and over the flames. Edyon held his breath as Ellis flew through the air. It seemed for a moment like he would make it the whole way across. He reached close to the far wall—but not close enough, and he came down into the ditch with a crash of splintering wood.
The flames rose around Ellis. He was up to his thighs in burning timber and yet somehow, thanks to the power of the demon smoke, he clambered out of the ditch, his clothes burning and his hair aflame. Byron ran to Ellis, patted him down, and helped him roll on the ground to put out the fire.
“He’ll heal, I suppose,” Regan said, looking down at him.
“Yes, but he’ll still have scars,” Edyon muttered. And to Ellis he said, “I’m sorry.”
Ellis lay back, the wounds already healing as he said, “No, I’m sorry, Your Highness. I didn’t listen to your order. I didn’t even make the leap.”
“I’d like to see Aloysius send his boy army across our wall!” Lord Hunt shouted over them, ignoring Ellis’s plight. “I’d like to see them all burn.”
A few other lords shouted their agreement.
Lord Regan spoke to the audience. “Prince Thelonius, my lords, I’m sure we’re all grateful for this informative demonstration of the demon smoke by Prince Edyon. It’s clear that the smoke gives strength and speed, but it doesn’t protect from fire, and it also impairs judgment and discipline. We don’t need to join forces with the Pitorians. We need to ensure our defenses remain strong.”
“Indeed so, Lord Regan,” Lord Hunt agreed. “We can beat it.” And he began to clap. “Well done, Prince Edyon, for your enlightening demonstration.”
But that isn’t what the demonstration was meant to show at all.
MARCH
BRIGANT
MARCH AND Sam walked together, mostly in silence. When Sam did talk, he fantasized about the future, which was always wonderful, and March, when he did talk, mused about the present, which was far from wonderful. The most pressing issue was food and how to get more. The rabbit traps had yielded two rabbits. They’d eaten them and all the food Ma
rch had stolen, but they were hardly growing fat.
They avoided the few villages they passed and both hid as soon as they saw a cart coming along the road. March suspected Sam hid because he had committed some crime, possibly hurt the owner of the clothes he was wearing, which he assumed was Sam’s master. But March wasn’t that interested in finding out, and Sam certainly wasn’t going to volunteer the information. March hid because he wasn’t sure how any locals would take to him, an Abask, as the territory of Abask was part of Calidor and thus the enemy. He expected the reaction of most Brigantines would be similar to that of the farmer he’d stolen from.
Another lesson March had learned from that farmer was how stones could be used for protection. As he walked, March picked up stones from the side of the road and threw them at randomly chosen targets, such as a tree trunk or a bush. Stones were the only weapon he had, but they were better than nothing and might protect him if they got into trouble.
Sam did make his presence known to fellow travelers twice to ask the way to Hornbridge, which was where he’d been told that the boy army was camped. After two days they eventually reached the outskirts of the village, but there was no sign of a boy army.
“If they were ever here, they’re not anymore.” March kicked at a cow pat.
“Should we ask someone?”
“Be my guest.” March waved his arm toward the village.
Sam hesitated but then set off toward the houses. March hung back and hid in the trees, feeling like an outlaw but not sure why.
A short while later Sam was running back, a smile on his face. “They were here a week ago. Just a small number of them. Boys our age. Not a full army but definitely part of one.”
March smiled too, though he suddenly felt nervous. He knew his plan to be a boy soldier, gain information, and help Edyon was absurd, but suddenly at least part of it was becoming more real.
“They went west into those hills,” said Sam. “Come on. We’ll be with them soon. I can feel it.”
But they saw no sign of an army or a brigade or even one boy other than themselves. They finally stopped as it was getting dark and made a fire but had little to eat.
