Mantle: The Return of the Sha (32 page)

“Leave your weapons.”

Zander unbuckled his sword and walked slowly toward the rock where the box lay, and as he walked, he quickly considered any and all options for an escape with Bella, if things should go wrong.

The distance between Zander and Balki was twice that as the distance between Balki and Bella. He could see that the clearing was completely surrounded by Dark Weed. It wasn’t standing on end, but it was raised enough for him to see. It constantly changed the direction of its blades so that colors of brown changed to green in waves. This formed patterns that made Zander think that the grass might be one single being, or possibly a
collective
of some sort.

When he reached the box, Balki was a short distance behind it. The king looked into his now black eyes and said, “We will not be defeated by your false king. Good will prevail, as it always has.”

In response, Balki first grinned before his expression turned serious
(and deadly).

“Open the box.”

King Zander knelt down before the box. He could hear Bella kicking dirt in the distance, and knew that she was trying to tell him to stop, not to open it—not for her sake.

But to Zander it was also for the sake of his child, the heir to the throne of Forris, and his decision was made. He looked at the box, examining the engraving of the crest of Bannister that lay staring back at him.
What would my father say of this?

Taking his right hand, he ran his fingers first over the engraving, then up to the latch.

All of my Fathers, please forgive me.

He turned the latch.

A quick whooshing sound could be heard as the wooden lid of the box popped open and then settled back into place, the air inside having been released after centuries of imprisonment.

“Open it,” the inflock said.

Zander thought he could hear
joy
in his tone.

How does evil find joy?
he wondered briefly, and then…
Evil finds joy only in spreading evil and removing joy
—
nothing more. It is yet another piece to the paradox.

With both hands, Zander lifted the lid and placed it gently on the rock, behind the box.

Inside lay a pouch that had been sewn of solid silver. It was about the size of his hand, and seemed to glow in the light of Balki’s torch. He wasn’t given much time to gaze, though. He was still kneeling before the box and had been consumed by thoughts of what lie tucked away inside the silver pouch when Balki drew his sword and placed it at Zander’s neck.

“Return to your horse and I will release your queen,” he said, the voice more terrifying now.

Zander, now shaken from his daze, raised his hands and slowly rose to his feet. He turned and walked back to his horse, looking over his shoulder to both Balki and Bella as he went. He had no choice in the matter.

When he reached his horse, he turned so that he was facing Balki, who had leaned over and placed his torch against the rock that held the open box. He then reached into the box and pulled out the silver pouch. Although Zander was some distance from him, the torch that lay against the rock shone an orange-tinted light directly into Balki’s face—and, in that face, Zander saw a smile that reached ear to ear.

“Release her!” Zander commanded from across the clearing. “You gave your word!”

Balki looked up from the pouch and said, “Patience, Majesty, is a virtue that you will soon find to be of great value,” he said, laughing. “Great value indeed!”

He untied the pouch and pulled the skull piece from it. Although Zander could hardly see the details of it, he could see that it had been dipped in silver. It shone brightly, reflecting moonlight. It was likely reflecting the torchlight as well, but Zander had the sense that it was only capturing the light of the moon.

After a moment, Balki returned the skull to the pouch and placed it inside his coat. He then picked up the box and walked toward Bella. When he reached her, he first placed the box back in his saddlebag and then drew his sword once more as he turned to her. At first, she was certain that he would kill her at once. She had not been able to hear the conversation between Balki and her husband. But her fears were put somewhat at ease when Balki used his sword to first cut free her feet and then hands. When she removed the gag from her own mouth, she looked up at him with bold contempt. She uttered the only words that came without thought,

“You are a vile man.”

“I find it amusing that you think of me as a
man
,” he said. The sarcasm was not lost in the gurgling nature of his voice.

Before she could rise to her feet, Balki turned from her and mounted his horse. He then turned first to Bella and then across the clearing to King Zander. Speaking to both of them, but directing his voice to Zander, he said, “You see, I
have
kept my word, Majesty. She is free. So are you, I suppose. However, I regret that I will not be here to enjoy watching you attempt to make use of that freedom.”

He was laughing as he quickly rode off. As he did, the Dark Weed lifted around them, the weed that had been lying flat stood on end, forming a wall between Zander and Bella. It surrounded them completely on all sides and they were left standing in separate circles just large enough to keep them out of reach of the weed. Bella’s circle lie in near darkness, and she froze herself in place, not sure where to move.

They were trapped.

****

It wasn’t far from Captain Hawkins’ tent to the Outland Post. Lizabet, Dorian, and Pike were escorted down seemingly endless rows of tents, and as they rode through, the soldiers became silent as they passed. It may have been that they knew who she was—who
they
were, or it might have simply been that there was a Loper at the edge of the Outlands. Surely, none of them had ever witnessed
that
before.

When they reached the post, they were greeted in the courtyard by Captain Baines, who was completely dismissive of them.

“Put them away in one of the sleeping quarters—one with a lock,” he grumbled.

“Are we under arrest?” Lizabet asked in a tone of shock. She wouldn’t be surprised in the least if they were arrested, but she would certainly act as if she were.

It was General Brask that intervened next. He didn’t know the boy and he had never paid any attention to the Lopers, but he
did
know Lizabet.

“Captain, that won’t be necessary,” he said nodding to Captain Baines, who seemed not to care one way or another. “But you, young miss, have some explaining to do if you’re not to be locked up until the king returns. As for your Loper friend, I will not order his arrest, but will require him to remain in the sleeping quarters. As much as I would give to have seen the Emm’s face when his beloved shed blew, I cannot permit the crime to go unnoticed. He will be kept comfortable, but under watch.”

Lizabet looked up to Pike and said, “It’s only for a little while. Can you manage?”

“Yes, Miss Lizabet, I can manage.”

She looked back to General Brask and nodded approval.

She wields authority without effort,
Brask thought, with some unease.

“General, this is my dear friend, Dorian Bellows. If it’s all the same, I would like for him to accompany me, for we share the same story.”

“Yes, fine,” Brask said, realizing once again that she had drawn the result that she had wanted, without any real consideration on his part.

They followed the general and the captain to the main building, while Pike was escorted to the first-floor sleeping quarters. They would have preferred to settle him in on the second floor, but it quickly became clear that navigating him up the short and narrow stairs wouldn’t be worth the effort.

When Lizabet and Dorian reached the third floor of the main building, they entered what had become the war room. It was a large room with windows at the back that looked out into the Outlands and Skite. In the center of the room sat a large wooden table covered by a map.

Lizabet broke away from the others immediately after they entered the room, and went to the table.

“What is it?” Dorian asked, while he walked over to join her.

“It’s clear—the king’s crystal is
clear
,” she said nervously. “General, what does that
mean
?”

“He’s stopped riding,” Brask replied. “It’s been clear nearly three hours now.”

Both General Brask and Captain Baines had their heads down. There were other soldiers in the room also, and Lizabet suspected that they were also captains of the guard. Their heads hung as well.

“Why does this concern you; what was he to do when he reached my sister?”

Captain Baines started to speak, but was cut short by General Brask, who knew that the captain’s response would be nothing short of brash.

“We do not know what he was to do when he reached them—he did not know himself,” the general said, “but nothing that we can imagine should take this long.”

Lizabet understood now. Dorian did as well, but he would let her be the one to ask the question herself.

“How do you know that he is still alive—that Balki Touro hasn’t already killed him and my sister as well?”

“Because Miss,” Brask said, “the crystal is clear. If he had been killed, the sphere would be filled with red as dark as blood. When an army has been lost, the crystals may turn red, but there may still be hope for survivors. Since the king is himself an army, in this circumstance at least, a red crystal would indicate his certain death.”

“You’re sure of this?” Dorian asked.

“Yes, we may not have been handed the history and strategies of the old wars, but we have never lost our way when it comes to the tools needed to win one. I am sure.”

“So we wait,” Lizabet said somberly. “Wait and hope.”

****

The inflock
had
kept its word. It had set the queen free and left the king free, as well. But it had left them to die with their freedom and, as if that weren’t enough, it had left them to die slowly, painfully, and apart from each other.

What had once appeared as a clearing between them was now completely covered by the Dark Weed. And now that the weed lay down again (but always watching and waiting—
be sure of that
), the rock where the box had been now appeared only as a grass-covered lump. As the grass continued to rapidly turn its blades, the brown and green sides moving in waves, it created the illusion that the rock was changing shape—being
molded
by some invisible hand.

It had not risen with the black side of its blades to paralyze either of them in their fear, though. That would do no good while they were out of its reach. So it waited, knowing that they were likely to make a mistake and venture too close. Then it would attack.

Zander estimated that they had been stranded for several hours, but couldn’t be sure. It was the moon’s course across the night sky that told him that time had gone by surprisingly quickly. He had brought one additional torch with him which he had thrown to Bella, and he had been fortunate that his throw had been true, or the torch would have been lost. She had been bathed in darkness and it was more his concern than hers that had prompted him to take the risk. He couldn’t bear the thought of not seeing her now that she was so close.

Now, though, the torches were fading. They had been constructed to last much longer than ordinary torches, but the magic in them would not last forever, and they would be in darkness soon, with the real threat coming when the sun woke. Once the sun began beating down on them, it would not take long for them to die from the heat, so Zander kept looking to the horizon for hints of orange.

He sat in the dirt, trying to think of anything that might let them out of the predicament. He considered using the horse to carry him to Bella, but that would be risky for him and certain death for the horse. And even if he were successful, what would his plan be once he was with Bella? Die together in Skite, by the hand of heat, hunger, thirst or Dark Weed? The options were few and all seemed brutal.

He stood and went to his horse, which had continued standing throughout the ordeal. He wished now that the horse would be able to talk with him in Animal-speak. It might offer some solution, as far-fetched as it seemed. But it was a Noble Horse of Bore and could not speak to him. It remained calm, though, and for that Zander was glad.

As he lifted the coarse blanket that lay over the horse, he saw the fairy staff secured to the side of the saddle. He had purposely covered it so that Balki would not see it, but in doing so he had forgotten about it himself.

How could I forget such a thing?

The staff would alleviate the problem of their diminishing light, at least. He unstrapped it from his horse and held it with both hands, walking back over to where he had been sitting.

He concentrated for a moment, as he had done so many times before, and the knot at the end of the staff began to form a spark within it. At first it was a very small spark, but as the brightness of it grew, he heard a screeching sound—a very high-pitched
screaming
. It was a horrible sound that seemed to come from all around.