Haladras (12 page)

“Well, that was quick thinking. I don’t know what I would
have done.”

“He would not have harmed you,” said Grim. “His life would
have been forfeit.”

Skylar did not respond. He didn’t know what to say. The
forest wall stood a hundred meters in front of them. Grim kept a much swifter
pace now.

“Those people in the city,” began Skylar. “Where were they
going? I’ve never seen such poverty before.”

“They go to work the fields,” said Grim, almost sighing as
the words left his mouth. “They are the product of our king’s greed. Tarus has
lain heavy taxes upon all who work the land. This he did through his new
governor and under the pretense of sustaining the soldiers meant to protect the
people. In reality, those soldiers are nothing more than slave drivers.

“All who cannot pay the heavy taxes have their lands seized
from them. Yet they still are forced to work it, driven by ruthless
taskmasters. Such is the condition of these poor souls. From morn until
eventide, they must toil in fields that were once their own or else be thrown
into prison.”

“But why don’t the people here stand up against the
governor? Surely the people of Quoryn see the injustice and cruelty in it.”

“Some do, but they are too cowardly to say aught against their
king. Others try in vain to deceive themselves that nothing is amiss, that
these poor wretches deserve their punishment. Of these, most enjoy worldly
wealth. The higher taxes burden the wealthy little and from the misfortunes of
the impoverished they glut themselves.

“The corruption does not end there. In the towns and
villages, out of scrutiny’s eye, the king’s soldiers commit all manner of
depravity among the village folk: plundering houses, burning farmsteads,
assaulting men who seem too haughty, ravishing their wives and daughters.”

“Things are not so on Haladras,” insisted Skylar. “How can
they be so different here? Are we not all under the same king?”

“In time Haladras will be gripped as mercilessly as Quoryn.
Unless someone stands against Tarus, the empire will be crushed by the iron
fist of tyranny...unless someone, my prince.”

Grim’s voice died away and the pair stepped into the shroud
of the forest.

ELEVEN

I
NSIDE THE FOREST,
Skylar was
again reminded of how incredibly alien this planet was to him. The night
before, the woods stood dark and eerie. Today, they felt transformed. Darkness
no longer draped the forest floor nor hid creatures within deep shadows. A thin
mist sat upon the ground, lightly shrouding the blue-green shapes of ferns and lavender-dappled
shrubs. The reddish bark of tree trunks rose tall and majestic out of the mist,
from where branches, strewn with moss, hung like furry arms. A quiet stillness
pervaded the scene, calming Skylar’s nerves as he trailed behind Grim’s noiseless
footsteps.

His thoughts cleared by the beauty and serenity of his
surroundings, Skylar forgot his previous danger and remembered the others.
Where had they gone? He was about to ask Grim when the guide suddenly struck
off from the path which he’d been following and made for a thick cluster of
trees and undergrowth. The vegetation looked no different than any of the other
dense areas of the woods. As they drew near it, however, Skylar distinctly
heard the low murmur of voices and the grunting of some creature or beast
wholly unknown to him.

He followed Grim, who navigated his way through vines and
branches until he came around the far side of the trees. When as last Skylar
caught up to Grim, he found the reticent guide standing at the threshold of an
opening, like a crude doorway into the trees and bushes. Grim motioned for him
to enter.

The opening led them into a small clearing within the trees,
no larger in girth than the quarters where they had slept the previous night.
The clearing was likewise occupied as that room. Krom, Endrick, and Lasseter
were all inside, packing the saddle-bags of several beasts, which resembled the
one which had nearly trampled him under-hoof.

There were five of these shaggy animals, tethered to the
trees, lazily chewing feed supplied by a makeshift trough of branches and bark
lashed together with vines.

“That one is yours,” said Grim, indicating a beast with
sable hair. “Best saddle her up and pack your things, my prince.”

Skylar nodded, then approached the feeding from behind. For
several moments, he stood beside the animal, unsure what to do. Finding
something that looked like a saddle resting on a nearby tree limb, he laid it
across the animal’s back. The animal briefly lifted its muzzle from the feeding
trough and turned it in Skylar’s direction, flicking its tail. The animal gave
no more protest than that, and soon returned both its head and tail to their
prior positions.

“Are you planning to ride facing her rear?” asked Endrick,
having looked up from his own saddle. “Not that she would mind. But you might
look a trifle odd.”

Skylar looked at the saddle of Endrick’s animal, then back
at his own. Endrick grinned and nodded. Flushing slightly at his mistake,
Skylar picked up the saddle and turned it to face the opposite direction. It
was obvious, now that he inspected it more carefully, that this was the proper
placement for it.

“That’s the way,” said Endrick. “Don’t worry, my first time
saddling a paqua I forgot to tighten the straps. As soon as that paqua took a
turn, the saddle slipped and I went crashing to the ground. I still bear a scar
just above my right eyebrow where I hit a stone.”

“Paqua,” replied Skylar. “Is that what they are? I think my
cloak is made out of their fur.”

“Likely so. Paquas are only good for their fur, and sometime
for carrying burdens. They only know one speed: slow. Don’t expect this to be a
fast-paced journey.”

Soon the paquas were all saddled and ready. The companions
led their mounts out of the clearing and along an unmarked trail. After a short
distance, the narrow path ran into a broad road. There, they mounted their
paquas and set off deeper into the forest.

The companions journeyed along their wooded path in silence,
except for the occasional subdued song from Grim. None of which were songs
Skylar had ever heard before, yet somehow they whispered familiar memories to
him. In one Grim sung of a place called Elydar. And such an inexplicable
yearning it produced within Skylar’s heart that he ventured to ask the
companion where Elydar was. Grim kept on singing, as though he could not hear
him, as though his mind and heart were in another place and time.

Endrick had indeed told the truth about the paquas. Only
time seemed to pass more slowly than the trees around them. They had ridden the
entire day, stopping only briefly at midday to water the paquas and eat a small
repast.

Skylar’s backside was sore from the saddle, his back ached
from sitting all day, and his heart yearned for answers to the questions in his
mind. Could all this be real? Krom had told him they were heading north to seek
help from the Mauwik. But who the Mauwik were and why they needed their help,
he didn’t know. And part of him did not want to know.

Finally nightfall came and Krom called a halt for the day.
Skylar dismounted with great relief. After an unsatisfying dinner, Skylar laid
out his bed cloth and fell into a restless sleep, dreaming of Kendyl, the
docks, Kindor, his mother.

The next day they came to a village. Before entering Krom
warned Skylar to remain inconspicuous.

“The soldiers out here are unlikely to bother anyone
traveling north,” he explained. “None travel north by this road but for traders
and lowly merchants. Still, do not let your mind be at ease. These soldiers can
be as unscrupulous as their master. Be wary.”

With these last words of caution, the little band of
travelers fell into silence, their paquas plodding lazily along.

Skylar had not expected to see much of interest in the
village. More than once, Lasseter had taken him to visit smaller mining units on
Haladras. They were always unimpressive, sparse; scarcely more than small
clusters of simple dwelling houses. Yet even this exposure failed to prepare
him for the scene which met his eyes.

The merchant shops and dwelling houses were in a state of
total disrepair. Broken windows, roofs riddled with holes, missing panels, and
sagging doors plagued most of the buildings. Here and there, charred remains of
a building burned to the ground left heart-rending gaps in the row of
dilapidated structures.

“Work of the soldiers,” whispered Grim, who had ridden up
next to him. “Try not to stare too much.”

Skylar nodded and did his best to avoid appearing so
deliberate in his observations. He couldn’t let off looking, though; it
astonished him to see such poverty. The people of the village, if it could be
possible, looked in worse condition than their buildings. More lifeless than
the wretched souls he’d seen in Amrahdel, these people were badly marred with
broken legs or arms, bandaged heads, bloody feet or bruised faces. The men were
particularly battered. And they seemed fewer in number.

Skylar watched the people pass by with horror and pity. It
felt as if an awful dream were sweeping over him.

As they neared the far edge of the village, Skylar noticed a
young maiden, about his own age, walking swiftly along the muddy street side.
Though her clothes were ragged and torn, her face stained with dirt, she
possessed a certain beauty which could not be blighted.

His eyes followed her as she went along. He detected from
way she walked that she was afraid of something. But he couldn’t see anything
that should inspire fear in her.

Suddenly, from out of a narrow alleyway, a soldier emerged.
His eyes were fixed on the damsel, his face contorted like a hungry animal’s.

“Come ‘ere my pretty wench,” he called out to her, his voice
coarse and menacing.

The poor girl did not even turn to look, but quickened her
pace to a run. The soldier bounded after her with long powerful strides. In a
moment he was upon her and snatched up her wrist in his hand. Thrashing and
screaming, the girl struggled desperately to free herself. Like a vice, his
hand stayed clamped onto her wrist. The soldier raised his free hand and
brought a heavy fist down across her face, sending an awful wail, like the howling
of a beaten dog, from her bloody lips.

“You keep quiet!” snarled the soldier, “or you’ll get much
worse.”

Frantic, the maiden pleaded for help. No one heeded her
cries. Indeed, the villagers had mysteriously evaporated from the streets.
Again the soldier raised his hand to strike.

“Stop it! Let her go!” The words escaped from Skylar’s mouth
as if by their own volition.

The soldier turned and cast a scornful glance at the
companions, then began dragging the wailing girl toward an alleyway. Skylar was
off his paqua in an instant, running after them.

“No! Come back, boy. It’s not worth it.” The commanding
voice of Krom reached his ears, but he didn’t listen. His mind was wholly
engulfed with the matter at hand. Enraged by what he knew the soldier intended
to do, he charged at him from behind, unsure what he would do once he reached
him.

Heeding his instincts, Skylar leaped up and wrapped his arms
around the soldier’s neck. The soldier’s neck was massive, and Skylar strained
with all his might to constrict it. The soldier tried to shake him off or throw
him off with his free hand. Skylar held fast.

Aggravated by Skylar’s persistence, the soldier’s focus
waned from his prey. In a moment of folly, his grip loosened on the girl. Like
a wild cat, she tore away from him and set off running. Infuriated at losing
the girl, the soldier renewed the fight with doubled strength. Taking Skylar by
the arms with both his hands, he ripped him from off his back and hurtled him
headlong to the ground.

“I’ve had enough of you—little pest,” said the soldier,
removing the blaster from its holster and aiming it at Skylar. “You’ll not
bother me or anyone any longer.”

Skylar caught his breath and froze. The blaster was leveled
at his head.

Suddenly, the soldier lurched forward and tumbled to the
ground.

“Get away from here,” Grim urged, preparing to engage the
soldier in hand-to-hand combat.

Skylar made toward the open street, out of the alley. Coming
just behind Grim, were the rest of the companions.

“Get to safety! Head for the forest,” Krom shouted.

Skylar turned down the road and instantly understood the
concern. Running up the road, blasters in hand, were five more soldiers.

The soldiers came to a halt, leveling their blasters at the
three companions.

“Don’t move!” ordered one of the soldiers. “Who are you?
What’s all the commotion about?”

“Nothing that hasn’t already been dealt with, Lieutenant,”
replied Krom in a calm, commanding tone. “A maiden was accosted. We’ve
corrected the matter.”

“I don’t see any maiden,” said the lieutenant. “What
business is it of yours anyway? We don’t like strangers causing trouble in our
village.”

Just as Krom made to respond, sounds of the scuffle between
Grim and the first soldier escaped from the alleyway.

“What’s going on here,” demanded the lieutenant, pushing
aside Krom and striding past the three companions. The other soldiers remained
with their blasters pointed at the three companions.

Skylar was still standing near the alleyway when the
lieutenant came over to investigate the source of the noise.

“Get out of my way.” The lieutenant pushed Skylar so
forcefully that he fell to the ground, where he fumed angrily.

The surly lieutenant stepped into the mouth of the alleyway.
At once he understood the source of the commotion.

“Stop! What is the meaning of this?” he demanded.

Before him, the first soldier lay face down in the mud,
struggling against the cords which now bound his hands and feet. Grim crouched
beside him, preparing a gag for the soldier’s mouth.

“Shoot the scoundrel!” shouted the humiliated soldier,
disregarding the lieutenant’s higher rank.

The lieutenant raised his blaster and leveled it at Grim,
who stared back, not a trace of fear in his eyes.

“Shoot him!”

Desperately, Skylar clawed at the rain-sodden earth and
dislodged a fist-sized stone. In one rapid motion, he took to his feet and
launched the stone at the lieutenant. It struck him squarely in the back of the
head. The lieutenant whirled around, his face livid with rage.

Skylar did not wait for the lieutenant’s reaction. As soon
as the rock struck, he threw back his cloak and took his jetwing in both hands.
He was off the ground in an instant, rocketing high above the street, hoping to
draw the soldiers away from his companions.

Cursing, the lieutenant aimed his blaster at Skylar. No
sooner had he done so than Grim sprang forward and pounced on him. That same
moment, Krom, Lasseter and Endrick attacked the soldiers guarding them. Within
moments, all four were disarmed, the sharp points of swords hovering around
their throats.

By the time Skylar returned to the ground the five soldiers
had been moved to the alley and bound together. Skylar marveled to see his
companions all with bright steel blades in their hands.

Why do they have swords?

The companions were discussing what to do with the captive
soldiers.

“We must dispense with them,” said Krom, conferring quietly
with Lasseter.

“No,” objected Lasseter.

Krom pulled Lasseter farther aside and spoke in a hushed,
but urgent voice.

“They are too dangerous to our mission. We cannot allow them
to tell anyone of us. It would be unwise.”

“There is always wisdom in mercy, dear friend. Killing them
will do little to hide our presence here. One of these villagers will surely
betray us once the empire investigates the death of five of its soldiers. No,
let us spare every life we can.”

Krom’s lips tightened. He nodded curtly, then turned away.

“Let us be off quickly, then, before the storm overtakes
us.”