The Silver Sphere (19 page)

Otis growled, the pitch rumbling deep
in his throat. He crouched, his hackles prickling.

"What is it, Otis?" She turned the direction he was
looking. At first, she heard nothing. Then, the sound of distant thunder rolled
across the terrain. She frowned. The sky was clear and blue—if there was a storm,
it wasn't anywhere nearby.

The noise grew louder, though, and she recognized it. The pail
she had been holding dropped from her hands and cold water splashed onto the ground.
A banner, black with a gold sigil, was the first to cap the hill outside of Chapton.
Atop the crest, only a few forms in dark armor appeared.

Then they came. The entire hilltop was
crowned with soldiers garbed in black. The army roared.

"No," she whispered. She simply couldn't believe it,
yet there they stood. Fear shook her very core. Twirling, she stumbled back toward
the village. Her legs turned to jelly, but she ran on, screaming and waving her
arms as she darted from the well.

Ms. Lantern stood up from her garden, facing opposite the hill.
Morgana dashed to her, crying, "Run!"

"What? Morgana!"

Otis yowled and bounded into the yard, trying to pull Ms. Lantern
away from her plants.

"Otis, stop!"

"
Nightlanders!
" shrieked Morgana. "Run!"

Only then did Ms. Lantern look toward the highland. Smoke rose
behind the Nightlander battalion. Morgana gasped and stepped backward, tripping
over a rock. She landed hard, eyes wide. The soot came from poor old Mr. Ender's
farmhouse.

At first, she wondered what the army was doing. Perhaps they
were hoping the villagers would leave without a fight. Then a loud cry rose from
the black warriors. They were almost five hundred strong, a small battalion, but
one that could easily overthrow the village. They swarmed down the slope, hundreds
of them rushing toward Chapton, and at the head towered a cloaked rider in obsidian
armor atop a gigantic war horse.

Morgana launched to her feet and ran, with Ms. Lantern now in
tow. Otis howled as they sprinted, his pink tongue lolling from between black lips.
His powerful legs carried him ahead of Morgana, but he never once left her sight.

"Everyone!" she shouted. "Run!"

Villagers who'd crowded around the central water fountain stopped
what they were doing. Workers at their small stalls and shops turned toward her.
When they gaped at the black army coming for them, they screamed. Women dropped
baskets of goods and men hustled to get weapons.

Chapton was by no means a small village, but most of the citizens
were women and children. Dogs growled and barked in the cobblestone street. Ahead,
a little boy stood frozen in the middle of the square, his blue eyes wide as skipping
stones, crying.

Morgana raced up and grabbed him. She lifted him and continued
running. Ms. Lantern was huddled between an overturned cart and a house, and Morgana
pushed the boy into her arms.

"Morgana!"

"Run!" she said. "Take him with you and go!
Now!
"

Ms. Lantern hoisted the boy and rushed down the road toward the
tree line. Halfway there, a Nightlander arrow struck her down.

Morgana bolted to the shrieking boy.

The army stormed the village with fervor, ruthlessly cutting
down men where they stood. They seized the women and children and herded them into
large cages on wagons. Nightlanders infested the village, searching houses for anyone
who tried to hide.

They must be looking for someone.

Otis remained at her heels, zipping to the Nightlanders trying
to capture the little boy. Morgana pulled the knife from her belt and prepared to
stab a horse, hoping to spook it. One of the Nightlanders swung about and thumped
her with the blunt end of his spear.

Dizzy, she stumbled and fell to the cobblestones. Blood oozed
from a gash on her forehead and her lip swelled. She tasted iron.

"A fighter, eh? Don't want you causing no trouble,"
said the Nightlander, his voice echoing within his metal helm. He spun the spear
around and aimed to strike.

Otis sprang from the street and bit the Nightlander's wrist.
The man yelped as plate mail crunched and ground against his flesh. His partner
whirled, but Otis was too quick. He dropped from the first warrior's arm to the
soil and nipped the second's horse. The mare reared, throwing her rider.

Otis backed off, growling. His teeth were wet, dripping with
saliva, and his hackles bristled. He barked ferociously at the two Nightlanders.

The little boy wailed nearby.

"Run!" Morgana shouted at him and tried to get to her
feet.

A spear came from nowhere and hit the soil where her hands had
been, between her and the boy. The youngster hollered and scampered off into an
alley. She floundered along the dirt.

An explosion rocked the temple right down the street from her.
A torch must have struck the vat of oil the priests used for anointing. In an instant,
all of their work was ablaze and smoldering. The love for their village meant nothing
to these men. They looted and pillaged, taking what they pleased from the stack
of icons outside the temple door.

Borgen ran from the building, his robes
on fire. Morgana bellowed his name, but he did not hear.

Her eyes were drawn from Borgen to a figure galloping down the
main road of the city, straight toward her. He raised a black crossbow and pulled
the trigger. The bolt flew even and true, and Borgen collapsed to the ground, where
he lay unmoving.

Morgana shrieked in horror. The imposing figure reined in beside
the Nightlanders. His destrier whinnied, showing pink gums and gnashing white teeth.

"Malefic," she murmured. It could be no one else.

His black helm sported a pair of enormous, demonic antlers rising
from the temples. Ebony armor shone in the sunlight. Firelight from the village
reflected off the plate mail, and his billowing raven cape whipped out behind him
in the icy breeze.

Tendrils of charcoal gray smoke carried across the path. Houses,
stained with gunk, crumbled as tongues of fire licked at the windows and doorways.
The wails of children and crying women reverberated through the town.

She glanced around, terror wrapping its icy fingers around her
heart.

"You could have lived, little pest. Kill her." The
words, spoken with such coldness, stunned her.

"Otis, run!" she begged, hoping at least to save him.

The Sheppard ignored her and launched at Malefic with a bark.
The Nightlander leader smacked Otis aside, and a pained whine broke the air.

Morgana sprang to her feet in an instant, running to his side.
"Otis!"

Malefic stormed forward with steely resolve on his devilish steed,
and hissed, "I will burn you alive."

Morgana whirled on him, tears streaming down her cheeks, and
raised her knife, ready to plow it through his armor and into his foul heart. She
froze.

Her father burst out from the alley,
the hand-cannon held high, forcing the nightmarish horse and its hellish rider back.

"Run, Morgana!" he shouted.

"Father!" Morgana backed away. She glanced around,
searching for the boy, but he was nowhere in sight. She knelt, trying to lift Otis
as he whimpered.

Elund cried, "Leave him! I'll get him!
Go!
"

Hot tears dripped from her chin. "I'm not leaving you!"

"Run, now!" He shoved her away and she stumbled.

Before Elund could fire his weapon, Malefic lifted a broadsword
and brought it down on her father's hand-cannon, shattering it. He crumpled to the
ground.

Morgana gasped and backed off, choking
on her sobs.

"Get help!" he yelled to her from the dirt.

Malefic turned his wintry gaze onto her.

The only thought in her mind was
'run.'
Though she fought
to stay, her legs wouldn't listen. Her feet flew beneath her as if with an intellect
of their own, as she instinctively sped down the cobblestone street.

No!
She thought, forcing herself to stop. She needed to
get Otis.

When she turned back, a handful of Nightlanders were chasing
after her. Behind them, a light blue figure with green hair glided in from the woods.
Morgana rubbed her eyes and squinted. The odd man knelt over Otis's shivering body
and stared up at Malefic. Nightlanders backed away from him, though their weapons
were drawn.

All at once, her father's form dropped beneath Malefic's sword.
Too shocked to scream, she merely stood, frozen, as Nightlanders rushed toward her.
The soldiers drew closer and an arrow whizzed by her ear.

She couldn't save anyone if she died.
She needed to escape and find help. Tears streamed down her face as she vaulted
toward the trees.

Milo raced through the woods on his steed, Shara, to no avail.
He had lost the Kin. At last, he slowed and cursed under his breath as he strained
in all directions for a clue. Nothing but foliage surrounded him in every direction.
None of the plants appeared mussed or torn, and no obvious tracks had been left.
The Nightlanders had been smart enough to take their time.

From behind a tree, a Leshy emerged and stood before Milo, smirking.

Milo tensed with his sword raised. Shara, in contrast, remained
at peace. She even lowered her head toward the Leshy.

The Leshy reached forward and patted Shara on the nose. "I
am Drake, a Leshy. Throg asked me to assist you in rescuing the two captured Kin."

"Throg, you say? Well, it's about time he joined the fray.
You are my first Leshy," he said warily, still holding his blade at the ready.
"I've heard your people pillage camps and run soldiers out of the forest for
simply making a campfire."

"My dear Milo, great warrior that you are, you will need
to dismount Shara if you wish to track, unless you would like to announce to the
entire quadrant your presence." Drake ignored his comment.

Milo focused on his mare as his cheeks flushed red. "I thought
I could catch them quicker, but not a hair of them has been spotted." He dismounted.
"Shara, back to the Stonecoats." He clapped his hands twice and she raced
away.

He twirled to Drake and sized him up. "I'll follow my instincts,
Leshy, and trust you."

"Throg is a few hours south. You will be pleased to know
that the sixth Kin is with him. The two captured Kin are being held just over this
hill. They ambushed the one named Max. You'll need my assistance if you wish to
rescue them unharmed."

"Your help is welcome, Leshy, as is the news of the missing
Kin."

"Sneak over the hill. When you are within sight of the camp,
you'll await the Kin," Drake said, and disappeared behind the tree. "When
they are free, you will take them back to the army. Then, leave my forest in peace."

Milo stood a moment and gaped in the direction the Leshy had
gone. After shaking his head, he turned, crouched a bit, and sidled toward the highland,
quiet as a leaf on the wind.