The Silver Sphere (22 page)

They'd marched for an hour when high-pitched shrieks rose from
the south of the forest, over a knoll. They studied each other at a standstill,
until reaching an unspoken agreement and dashing up the mound. When they reached
the top of the slope, they crawled on their bellies to catch a glimpse of where
the cries had originated.

At the bottom of the hill, a girl no older than fifteen sprinted.
A second later, a quintuplet of Nightlanders emerged, running and howling with their
weapons raised.

"I count only five soldiers with none following. They shouldn't
give me a problem," Throg said, eyeing Brodeur. "How are you with that
crossbow?"

"I last tested my aim a while ago, but I should be able
to even the odds." Brodeur unwrapped and loaded his bow.

"What about me?" Zach snapped.

"I can take these few on my own. I'm not risking you in
this." Throg bounded down the hill.

Brodeur aimed and fired his crossbow. The bolt whistled through
the air and sliced into a Nightlander's back.

The soldiers spun around.

Throg thrust his sword into one, pulled it out, and parried a
blow from a different Nightlander, slashing him on the side while a bolt whizzed
by him and struck down another.

Battle cries echoed from down the path, and several more Nightlanders
burst onto the scene.

Brodeur fiddled with his crossbow. "It's jammed. He won't
last long alone."

Zach stood and stared at Throg as he struggled against the throng
of soldiers.

I need to help him.

He sucked a deep breath and charged down the hill.

Zach rolled under a soldier to the middle of the pack, then jumped
up, knees to his chest as an axe swished underneath. His leg extended in mid air,
right into the head of a warrior. He deflected two swords aimed at him, pushing
the soldiers back, and then jabbed a pair of warriors to his left with lightning
speed.

A large trooper bear-hugged him from behind. Zach launched his
legs forward into an oncoming Nightlander, and then propelled his head back into
the mouth of his assailant. Next, he twirled forward, blocking swords and hacking
with each turn. Not a thought entered his mind, his body moving with pure instinct.

He turned to Throg, who was heaving on one knee. The last one
remained before them, standing his ground, which was almost admirable, considering
that his group lay slaughtered at Zach's feet and he could have fled.

"Hah. Doesn't matter to me," rasped the soldier. "Biskara
promised us a rich afterlife. Meridia is doomed already, and the United Forces are
crippled thanks to our lord. No hope for you now."

A crossbow flew between them, sticking the Nightlander in the
chest and knocking him backward so far, it pinned him to a tree.

"He can chew on that in his afterlife," mocked Brodeur
as he strode forward. The thief gazed at Zach. "And you told him to stay behind?"
he blurted, switching his eyes to Throg.

Zach scanned the pile of men around him.
How did I do this?

Throg stepped closer and patted him on the back.

"The girl," Zach said.

They looked up in the direction the girl had been running. Zach
could see nothing but trees. A flock of birds fluttered across the sky followed
by smoke.

"Damsel, we wish you no harm. Are you well?" Brodeur
called out to the woods as he motioned to a large fir tree on the right of the path.

The girl sidled out from behind the trunk, her light brown hair
tussled, her face with the look of a tense cat. She was damp with sweat despite
the cool breeze, and her oversized tunic was shredded. In her right hand, she gripped
a small but sharp dagger.

"Thank you, dear sirs," she said. "I assure you
they would not have taken me alive."

"My name is Throg. These here are Zach and Brodeur. We were
happy to help."

The young woman gaped at Zach, and then sauntered over to them.

"I am Morgana, from the village Chapton. They hit us this
morning, burning and pillaging our homes. My father ordered me to run. These soldiers
spotted me, and chased me as if possessed. My father was not so fortunate."
Her eyes welled with tears.

"Well, my dear, we may not be the safest crew to journey
with, but it would be better if you came with us. We're headed to Meracuse, and
can provide you with shelter when we arrive. I am sorry for the loss of your village.
If your father survived, he would travel this way looking for you, and then probably
on to Meracuse."

"I do not think he persevered." She winced, holding
back whatever image she had glimpsed.

"I insist you come with us. Brodeur, are some warmer garments
for her possibly stuffed in that bag of yours?"

"Yes, of course," said Brodeur. He placed his sack
down, rummaged through the contents, and pulled out a piece of cord and a hooded
cape. "This rope can be used for a belt to wrap the tunic around you a bit
more snugly, and this cloak will keep you warm."

"I'll repay you when I can," said Morgana, coming forward
and accepting them. She wiped her eyes. Tears had made them puffy and red, and her
lips trembled.

Despite the redness of her cheeks, Zach
thought she was a lovely young woman.

"No need," said Brodeur. "A girl your age isn't
legal to barter. Consider them gifts."

Throg interrupted. "Well, we should walk to a safer spot
and allow Morgana to rest before we move on. I am sorry we cannot camp long, considering
what you have been through, but we are stressed for time. However, we will boil
some water for tea before heading out."

Morgana nodded, her expression strained.

In silence, they covered ground to a more secure location. Brodeur
deftly set up a fire while Morgana hunched with her arms wrapped around her bent
knees. Her brow recoiled with anger as tears rippled down her pearly cheeks. The
mood ripened with dismal emotion, and Zach could sense Throg was deep in thought.

"That Nightlander said they crippled the United Forces,"
Throg said. "And they're scouring and pilfering villages in Meridia with abandon.
We may need to consider other options." He took a long swig of hot tea.

With Sculptor on his left flank, Barrick approached the Kin.
"We've decided the best way to journey is to separate into two contingents.
The main Meridian Army will continue on the Dorado Path as a decoy, and you'll travel
with the Stonecoats and your personal guard on a less visible route. We will travel
west and around the Invunche Lake. It's a bit off course, but east is the Evern
Mountains, which is too rough a go."

"Is it wise to split up?" Mr. Dempsey asked.

"We would not even contemplate it if Milo were not here.
We have ultimate confidence you will be safer traveling on a less direct course
with a more nimble platoon than on a main path with the battalion. We cannot journey
with such a large force on the smaller roads or through the dense forest. We've
sent a squad of reconnoiters ahead to scout, and we will be traveling by foot."

As the group prepared to leave, Shelby noticed a distinct shift
in the moods of Barrick and Sculptor. No longer the bickering duo poking fun at
each other, they were now clutched and uneasy. Casselton's betrayal and the death
of their companions had left them raw and angry. Shelby couldn't blame them.

"This... seems so hopeless," she whispered next to
Mr. Dempsey. "My life is so... hopeless."

Mr. Dempsey arched his brow. "Put your fears aside, young
Shelby. Forget the past. You need to learn that your life is worth fighting for.
You are needed. The fate of this world and ours depends on it."

She stared at the ground and folded her arms across her chest.

Milo walked up with Cetus and several of the Stonecoats. They
had switched to lighter chainmail with earthier tones. Shelby was impressed. It
reassured her knowing they had the ability to diversify when needed.

"We move out immediately," said Milo.

They trekked through the thicket for almost a mile before coming
to a clearing with a large, rocky slope leading down to the bottom. Trees and brush
surrounded the gap, and from her post, Shelby could see for miles in all directions.
Meridia was enormous. At first, she'd thought the world was smaller than Earth,
but as she gazed across the countryside, she felt overwhelmed by its size. A flock
of howls launched from the treetops. In the distance, a roar echoed. Mist settled
amongst the hills, fading as the day warmed.

Milo sent a handful of Stonecoats ahead to scout. After inspecting
the area, they marched down and beyond the glade. At that point, strained yelling
rang from over a hilltop.

Shelby whipped toward the noise.

Milo stared up the mound, his expression tight. At the top of
the hill was a man racing downward. He fell and spiraled down the slope, but regained
his footing and continued his descent.

"He's Marty, one of the reconnoiters we sent ahead,"
said Sculptor.

Marty rolled down a few more feet as Sculptor and Milo rushed
up to meet him. Blood seeped from his several small wounds amidst mud and sweat.
His hair was matted and his eyes wide. A rough, heavy black beard covered most of
his jaw.

"Nightlanders. Close b-behind me," he gasped. "They
h-had us surrounded, almost as if they were expecting us. I'm the l-last one. They
wiped out the rest."

"Right behind you? How many?" Shara shifted from one
hoof to the other under Milo's weight.

"At least a thousand. They have a c-cavalry leading and
s-some Disembowelers."

Pounding hooves echoed in the near distance. Shelby raised her
crossbow and loaded it.
The mist must have sheltered them,
she thought. She
exchanged glances with Max, and they both nodded. If it came to a battle, they'd
fight to the death.

"Barrick, your guard and Cetus take the Kin straight north
to the outskirts of Bevenia Creek," ordered Milo. "We'll divert their
attention, but you must leave now, before they glimpse you and give chase."

"Milo, should you not come with us to protect the Kin?"
said Barrick.

"Nay, dear friend. With these odds, the Stonecoats will
need their leadership. Cetus is my best. We will lead them away. Go now!"

The Kin followed their guard into the woods, accelerating like
runaway wagons. Shelby turned to glance up the embankment as she drove into the
foliage. At the top of the hill emerged a score of dark horsemen. Milo bellowed
out orders from behind her. Mr. Dempsey grabbed her arm and pulled her forward.

Cumber raced up behind and whispered, "Hurry. Don' look
back."

They sprinted through the shrubs and branches with fervor, their
leather garments shielding them from most of the sharper thorns and brush. The woods
thickened and trunks blocked her way. Shelby could view little ahead of Mr. Dempsey,
except for a glimpse of Stuart. Fog crawled along the forest floor, splitting in
their wake.

Then she caught the sound of war cries, followed by shouting
and the clanging of metal. Mr. Dempsey stopped in front of her.

Stuart turned to them and pointed behind. "They're everywhere—Nightlanders.
Cetus and Barrick are fighting a score of them. What do we do?"

Sculptor circled back with Riley and Emily and shouted, "We
can't risk you getting captured. You are ordered to head east for now and hide until
someone fetches you. If no one comes, go straight for Meracuse. You have maps in
your backpacks."

Max burst out of the tangled brush, his sword drawn and bloody.
"We need to move." Blood spatter dotted his chest.

Shelby's heart skipped a beat. She hoped it was not his.

Sculptor nodded. "Go now. I'll find the rest and bring them
as soon as I can."

"Don't wait for me," said Mr. Dempsey. "You are
all too important, and faster. I will catch up."

As they ran, intense pain shot through Shelby's skull. She fell
on one knee and held her head. Around her, she sensed mayhem and confusion. The
world spun. Smells vanished. Sunlight faded.

And then there was nothing.