Revolution - C M Raymond & L E Barbant

by Michael Anderle

  “Ah! Ezekiel, forgive us for such technical maneuverings, but I am sure you can understand our predicament. Our emissaries have carried word to us about the happenings in your Arcadia, and we had to be cautious,” the old man stated, almost laughing.

  Ezekiel stood straight, his face lacking any emotion. With a nod, he replied, “The politician in me wants to brush aside your apology, Alexander, but we have known each other for most of our lives. We’ve stood together through much since the day you left Arcadia. To say that a bag over my head isn’t an affront would be a lie.”

  Gregory felt his cheeks flush, and he wondered if Ezekiel was just a damned fool or if there was a good reason for him to stand up to the man who must be the master of the druids.

  The man’s smile remained, but melted a little. “Yes. Yes, we have. But it is your schoolboy who’s causing so much trouble in Arcadia. It was you who put your trust in him, not I. The druids have not thrived for this long without taking care to protect ourselves. And no one calls me by that name anymore. I am the Chieftain now.”

  Finally, Ezekiel’s face softened. “You have thrived, Chieftain. As have our brothers and sisters in the Heights, but they accepted me with open arms.”

  “Let me open them now.” He waved at the chairs situated behind the newcomers. “Please, take a seat. Have a drink, and something to eat for you and your companion.”

  For the first time, the Chieftain and all who sat in the circle turned to Gregory. He pushed his hand through his kinky, dark hair and offered a smile.

  As they sat, two attendants emerged from the thicket behind them, each carrying a tray with a wooden goblet and steaming vegetables. The smell of the produce, clearly roasted with plenty of garlic, struck Gregory’s nose, and the growl in his stomach told him that he was hungry again.

  His attendant was a trim girl, like a sapling with light green almond-shaped eyes and slightly pointed ears that were almost foxlike. She couldn’t have been more than a year or two younger than him. As she placed the tray across his lap, she smiled gently and whispered, “Welcome to our home, traveler.”

  Her beauty struck him, and Gregory felt his throat tighten as he tried to talk. Although he was good at many things, there were two areas in which he had always been a miserable failure: magic, and women. He settled for a simple nod, and she chuckled in reply as she backed into the shadows.

  Sniffing the contents of the cup, he noticed its bouquet was curious. Full and sweet like the ale of the mystics, but the druid’s ale was different, like nothing he had ever smelled before. It had hints of something he couldn’t place—a wildflower he remembered from his childhood, perhaps.

  Sipping it, he realized the beauty of its aroma paled in comparison to its sweet taste and complex contours. He instantly felt his strength come back to him.

  Ezekiel ignored the tray on his own lap, which was a surprise to Gregory. The man never missed an opportunity to eat and drink.

  “Thank you for the hospitality, Chieftain.” He nodded at the tray on his lap. “Even if it is somewhat delayed. Since the early days, I have respected you. You have led your people well, and have built quite a home here among the trees. Though I must say, you had quite a home back in Arcadia.”

  The large man nodded. “I know that, Ezekiel. You were always so committed to that foul city; unreasonably so, in my mind. And you haven’t visited the Forest in quite some time. I don’t expect you to truly understand us and our ways, even with the years you spent in our company.”

  Ezekiel pulled out his pipe and lit it, drawing deeply. His eyes never left the man in the middle of the circle. “I was just telling my friend here about your departure, the way you and the others left just as we were starting to make things happen in Arcadia.” Ezekiel laughed, and smoke seeped out his nostrils. “Maybe if some of our best hadn’t left, this would never have happened.”

  The old druid leaned in, placing his elbows on his knees. “Maybe if you had never left, Adrien wouldn’t have become such a problem. As for me and my people, we don’t belong behind walls. The same is true for Selah and his mystics. Our blood is different.”

  Ezekiel’s eyes narrowed. “That’s where you’re wrong. Our blood is all the same, in the life it sustains and the power it holds. Choices are what make us different, and you made yours a lifetime ago.”

  “And Adrien made his. I cannot be blamed for that.” He leaned back, crossed his arms, and stared intently at Ezekiel before suddenly looking straight at Gregory. “Excuse my rudeness, son. Who are you?”

  “Gregory,” he croaked.

  “Nice to meet you, Gregory. And how is it that you have joined Ezekiel’s little crusade?”

  He shrugged. “Dunno. Kind of fell into it.”

  The large man shook his head. “Seeds fall where they may, but a skilled gardener knows how to shape a tree to where it is best suited.” As the Chieftain spoke, a young tree by his side began to twist and curl, like a spiral staircase ascending into the canopy. “Or to where it best suits the gardener. And I’ve known the Founder here long enough to recognize his handiwork. No, you fell into nothing, Gregory. You’ve been shaped by this man’s choices as much as you have your own.”

  Gregory listened to the old man, trying to read the assumptions in his words. He may have been all smiles, but behind his soft exterior lay an oaken core.

  “Leave him be,” Ezekiel interjected.

  The man held up his hand to the wizard. “I’m afraid you don’t command us, Ezekiel, not anymore.” The Chieftain’s eyes never left Gregory’s. “Why are you here?”

  Feeling the sweat bead on his forehead, Gregory exhaled and started to take a drink from the goblet in the hope that it would settle his nerves. The cup shook in his hand so vigorously that ale nearly spilled into his lap. He gave up and lowered it to the tray.

  “I met a girl, a magician. She was new to Arcadia. Came with…” He motioned to Ezekiel. “They took me in, I guess.”

  “Took you in?” He smiled. “You must be one hell of a magician to be recruited by the Founder and his new student.”

  Gregory shook his head. “No, sir. Quite the opposite. But I’m good with magitech and machines.”

  Light danced in the Chieftain’s eyes. “Is that right? Where did you learn that?”

  “My father. He is…was the Chief Engineer.”

  “He was the one who designed the airship, then?”

  Gregory’s eyes hit the ground. The druid knew more than he had expected. His stomach turned over and he thought he was going to be sick.

  “Damn it, Alexander. Leave the boy alone,” Ezekiel shouted.

  “You asked for an audience, friend. And I will comply. But as I said, we druids must take care. I know why you’re truly here. I know the danger that you’ve come to warn us about. But I need to know why you decided to bring this Arcadian into my woods, especially when his own blood built the very weapon that now threatens us.”

  Gregory glanced at Ezekiel. For a moment, he imagined the old man’s eyes turning red right before unleashing the furious magic of the gods on the druid. But instead, he gave him a gentle nod. Moments like these are what they had talked about. Gregory’s role was small, but it was faithfulness in the small things that could win wars.

  “Yes,” Gregory continued. “My father designed it. He built it. He destroyed lives to power it, and he tried to destroy me. All for the sake of his weapon.”

  The druid’s smile faded. He glanced around at the rest of the council sitting in the circle, his gaze stopping on Gregory once again. “I’m sorry to hear that. Family is more important than anything. To harm your kin, that is truly a crime against the gods. But it’s a godlessness that could have been foreseen if only some had the eyes to see it. Arcadia has always bred sin.

  “I could smell the lust for power in the air even then. Building a city for so many, cutting yourself off from nature, can do such a thing; it can turn good people bad. It can turn a father against his son. That’s how it was in the days b
efore Madness, and that’s how it is now. Which is why we left. We have lived here in peace ever since we left Arcadia. A world in which a man would sacrifice his son for a madman’s vision is no place for us. Not then, not now, not ever. As soon as Adrien began building his infernal machines, that’s when we closed our borders for good.”

  Gregory imagined the crazed look in his father’s eyes as he strapped his only child to the machine to drain his life to power Adrien’s warship. The world spun as he realized that the druid was, in many ways, right. His face grew ashen, and the old druid turned toward Ezekiel.

  “But that’s precisely the world you would plunge us back into, Ezekiel.” The Chieftain’s words hung in the air.

  Ezekiel reached over and squeezed Gregory’s arm, though he knew it would bring little comfort. Then he turned to the druid leader and his council. “That is exactly the world I would have you come back into. How could someone who oversees a place as beautiful as this consign the rest of the world to burn? With your help, maybe the Arcadian Valley could thrive once again. But first we need to pull out the weeds. Our revolution is not large, a few hundred souls at most. If we are to defeat the scoundrel, it is going to take more hands and wits than our own. I need you, Alexander. Your city needs you.”

  “Your war is not our war, Ezekiel. And your city is not my city. I made that clear decades ago.”

  Ezekiel stood, and the druids sat up straight, as if wary that Ezekiel would suddenly attack. Apparently they were as afraid of the Founder as Gregory was. He noticed that the young woman who had served him leaned forward. She was listening intently to Ezekiel’s words, but she also seemed ready to fight, if it came to that. Gregory looked around at the many weapons and the men and women who held them, and prayed to the Patriarch that Ezekiel wouldn’t let that happen.

  “Your city or not, if we fail, the war will be yours. Adrien won’t let any threat to his power stand. He’ll torch your forest, and he has the power to do it.”

  Anger flashed in the Chieftain’s eyes, and the sleeping bear at his side stirred for the first time since they had arrived. Gregory thought the creature would rise, but the furry animal simply yawned widely and slept on.

  The Chieftain looked down at the bear, patted its shoulders and exhaled deeply. He glanced at Elysia, who sat at his left hand. Her lips were pursed. She shook her head.

  “No, Ezekiel. We cannot. The Forest is our home, and we will not leave it willingly, not to take part in another of your mad schemes. Arcadia must pay for its own crimes. And if Adrien is foolish enough to bring his war machines here, he’ll find that deeply rooted trees are not easily torn destroyed. I am sorry. You didn’t heed my warnings a lifetime ago, but perhaps you will heed them now. Leave. Find your own forest, your own fortress. Start anew. Find a good life without all of this chaos.”

  The sadness was clear on Ezekiel’s face. In some ways, this seemed a far harsher betrayal than the one they had received at Matthias’s hand.

  “You didn’t just leave behind Arcadia,” Ezekiel finally said, his voice deep and gravelly. “You abandoned humanity. I am far from perfect, but I would die before I did that.”

  The Chieftain sipped his own drink. “It pains me to hear that, old friend, because it means that death will probably come sooner rather than later for you.” He nodded, and the two attendants returned from the shadows. “But it won’t come tonight. We have prepared shelter for you. Rest here in safety before you return to your world of war. I pray the Mother and Father will bring you victory. Farewell, Ezekiel.”

  As the druid leader finished, those who were seated rose and walked out of the circle into the darkness.

  Gregory felt a gentle hand on his shoulder, causing him to jump.

  The girl with the almond eyes stared at him. He could swear she was crying. “Come with me, Gregory of Arcadia. Your place is prepared.”

  Gregory and Ezekiel followed their attendants with heavy hearts, and Gregory finally understood why it was called the Dark Forest.

  ****

  While the result of their visit was disappointing, Gregory felt surprisingly rejuvenated by a full stomach and a night’s rest. Ezekiel had been silent for the first few hours as they followed a young druid boy toward the edge of the forest. Apparently the Chieftain had been satisfied that his old teacher meant them no harm, and Gregory was happy not to have a bag covering his head.

  Finally their guide left them on a path heading east.

  Gregory watched the kid go, then said, “I’m sorry, Ezekiel. They’re damn fools for refusing you.”

  Continuing down the path, the wizard glanced over his shoulder. “No. They’re not, not really. I can’t say I blame them. They have achieved what I spent my life fighting for. Their defenses are strong here in the forest, and the Chancellor might leave them to own their quiet lives. He’d be smart to do just that. The druids are powerful, and advancing on their territory would be nearly impossible, even with an army of thousands and a flying death machine.”

  “But you said—”

  He nodded. “I know what I said. Alexander and I both knew the truth of the matter. We also both realized I had to try.”

  They walked in silence for long enough that Gregory lost track of time. The trees were starting to thin, indicating that they were nearing the edge of the Dark Forest. Gregory’s stomach began to growl, already forgetting about the ample tray the beautiful young druid had delivered hours earlier. While the meal was a distant memory, she was not. Gregory imagined all the things he could have said to her in those moments, but all he had mustered was a squeaky “Thank you.” Nothing more.

  Mind wandering, he didn’t notice that Ezekiel had stopped short on the narrow single track. Slamming into the wizard’s back, he looked up into the bearded face. Ezekiel’s eyes were fixed on the hedge to their right. He held his index finger to his lips and watched the flora with intent. Then, without warning, his eyes flashed red as he raised his staff in the direction he was peering.

  The brush obeyed the Ezekiel’s command to spread apart.

  Gregory gasped as he discovered the very druid girl he had been thinking about crouching in the dirt, now exposed by the parted shrubbery.

  “Damn it,” she gasped as she fell over backward and landed on her ass. She stood, brushed the dirt from her green cloak, and began to walk toward them.

  “Took you long enough,” she said, her eyes flashing at Ezekiel. “I thought I would have to follow you all day.” Her eyes cut to Gregory, and she winked.

  Ezekiel grinned. “I knew you were there all along, child. I was simply ignoring you until I became hungry.”

  “Well then, it’s a good thing I’m here. I’ve got three days’ worth of rations and a few bottles of the elixir this one seemed to like.” She gestured to Gregory. “And don’t call me ‘child.’ I’m as adult as your friend here.”

  “We won’t need the rations. We have enough for the journey, and once we’re clear of the forest we will jump most of the way.”

  She grinned. “I don’t know much about your physical magic, wizard, but I do know it will be hard for you to transport all three of us back to your base.”

  Ezekiel raised a brow. “The three of us? Go home, chi—young lady. I know enough about your culture to understand that you can’t just leave the forest, not without passing the test.”

  “The name is Laurel. And I passed the Versuch, thank you very much. I’m free to go where I choose, and I choose to go with you. The Chieftain might not understand, but I know that injustice, no matter where it finds a home, must be rooted out. And to do that, you need someone who understands roots.”

  Ezekiel turned to Gregory and shrugged. But Gregory missed it since he was too busy staring at her. Ezekiel said, “Well, it seems my traveling companion doesn’t mind. And if you’re half as strong as you are bold, you will find a place in the revolution.”

  Laurel smiled, making her face all the more lovely. “You bet your ass I am. Now, are we just going to stand here bl
owing in the wind, or is there some sort of war to fight?”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Hannah’s body ached as she walked back into the farmhouse.

  Disposing of corpses was harder than she expected, even with the help of her physical magic. Closing the door behind her, she looked into the faces of two girls, neither of whom could’ve been over thirteen years old.

  Remembering the words of the Capitol Guards about their intentions for the two children, she suddenly felt even more pleased with ending their miserable lives.

  “Be good hostesses, now,” Henry suggested. “Say hello to Ms. Hannah.”

  The girls nodded, mumbled something under their breaths, and quickly went back to playing with a recumbent Sal by the fire.

  “Sorry. They’ve never seen one before.” He nodded at the dragon.

  Hannah laughed. “Who has?”

  Henry settled into a chair at the table and motioned to Maddie and Hannah to do the same. The broken bottle had been replaced by a new one, which was mostly full. He poured some ale into two empty goblets and then topped off his own.

  “Thank you…” Emotion struck Henry, and he couldn’t finish the line as his eyes cut to his granddaughters.

  Hannah shifted in her seat. “I’m not sure if you should be thanking me or if I should be apologizing to you. It seems that I brought trouble on your house. If it weren’t for me and for the rebellion, those dipshits never would’ve been here.”

  She sipped the stout, which tasted even better than it had earlier that afternoon. The liquid cooled her tongue while warming her stomach at the same time. She drank fast to numb her aching mind. For the first time, she realized exactly why the mystics drank away the troubles of the world.

  Nodding at a skewered hunk of meat over the fire, Henry said, “The roast will be done soon. But for now, we should talk about why you came.”

  Hannah looked at Maddie, who cleared her throat. Hannah had done the ass kicking; now it was time for Maddie to do her job.