by J C Maynard
“What are you doing?” asked Tayben. The wound would heal within the hour because of the nymphs’ powers residing in Gallien, but Tayben still worried as he watched the blood drip from Gallien’s hand.
“Just watch.” Gallien reached forward and touched the flower; his hand jolted back as if he was shocked. But when Tayben looked at his hand, the blood was gone and the cut was sealed. A flash appeared in Tayben’s mind of a glowing white flower. Gallien asked him what was the matter.
Tayben stared at the white flower. “I just . . . I feel like I’ve seen this before . . . It’s like something I saw in a dream . . . I just remember a glowing flower and then something else . . .”
Gallien’s body started to shimmer like rippling water and morph into Thephern. “Wake up, Shae!”
“What?”
“Tayben, wake up!” Tayben felt a light slap across his face and his eyes shot open. “Wake up, it’s time to go.” said Thephern, who knelt next to him on a tree branch high in the forest canopy. “Come on, Shae,” said Thephern, “everyone else is awake, we’re about ready to be on our way.” Tayben glanced around and saw Gallien and Ferron talking on the large branch next to him as Chent adjusted the string on his bow.
Tayben stood up. “Yes, my apologies Sir.”
Thephern elaborated, “Even though you don’t need as much sleep now, that hour there will help with traveling today.” The two of them jumped over a two hundred foot drop to their troop on the adjacent branch.
Ferron Grenzo, one of only two dark-skinned Phantoms held a short, heavy sword. Picked for his skills in tracking, his attention to detail increased exponentially as a Phantom.
Chent Vantte, carried a bow. With rippling shoulders to pull the string, which required ten times the weight of a normal bow, he could hit a diving sparrow through dense fog and trees two hundred feet away. He hid his thoughts behind his flat face and slanted eyes, remaining quiet for most of the time — the Phantoms always respected his preference for isolation.
“Alright boys,” said Thephern as he looked at Tayben and the three others, “let’s join up with General Lekshane and the two other troops.”
“We’re traveling over the entire Taurbeir-Krons today?” asked Gallien while the group ran through the building-like trees.
“We have to wait for Vaya Irroy,” said Thephern, “she’s giving us information on our mission.”
Tayben hurdled over a perpendicular branch. “Vaya Irroy?”
“Vaya Irroy is one of the few people who know of our existence,” explained Thephern Luck. “She is Xandria’s top courier. She delivers information to and from General Lekshane and Xandria. Because we are constantly on the move, Xandria must know where we are to send us orders. We consult with Miss Irroy on our course of action for the next month. Because everyone who knew us believes we are all dead, she’s our only link to Cerebrian society.”
Ferron smiled. “And our rare link to the fairer sex.”
Gallien and Tayben smiled and shook their heads as they traversed through the forest.
The platoon came to a tree which sat on an island in the middle of a parting brook. On a branch ahead of them stood the two other platoons of five phantoms each, along with General Lekshane. Tayben had finally learned every Phantom’s name, but only knew his own platoon well — Thephern, Ferron, Chent, and of course, Gallien.
“About time, boys,” said General Lekshane. A single stream of early morning light pierced through the fog and bounced off his reddish, brown beard. Of course, the fog no longer impaired Tayben’s vision, only his enemies’; he could now see with far better clarity through a thousand feet of fog than he could see before from only one hundred feet away. The Phantoms had not yet battled with Tayben and Gallien, but Tayben foresaw a change coming soon. If I can run faster than any other, he thought, jump across any tree, and rarely run out of breath, how will the Ferramish troops stand a chance?
General Lekshane and the rest of the Phantoms sat down on the tree branch and closed their eyes; meditating until they heard a galloping horse half a mile off. When the hooves stopped underneath them, the Phantoms stepped off the branch and fell towards the forest floor. Now that Tayben’s senses were heightened beyond comprehension, he examined the world around him as he fell. A bird fluttering above him, a squirrel scuttering in the distance, and below him — a girl with shimmering auburn hair, not five years older than Tayben. She stood next to a sleek black horse with bulging legs and removed a letter from a bag. He landed softly on the black soil below. When she looked back at the forest, a circle of sixteen black Phantoms stood around her. General Lekshane stepped forward and shook her hand. “Always a pleasure Miss Irroy.”
“And the same goes to you General.” she replied. The black maned beast beside her shook its head. “Once you cross the Taurbeir-Krons, I will no longer be able to travel to you because of my horse. Here is your list of coordinates and dates when we will send you messenger birds. And just so we don’t forget again . . .” she handed Lekshane a document, “do not send us a letter back with the bird. If it arrives back in Seirnkov, we will know our message has been delivered. This will be Xandria’s only way to keep you informed of our latest intelligence from our other spies. The information on your mission is in this document. A group of Ferramish war spies have gathered intelligence on our army’s exact locations and are gathering at these coordinates to trade information. They are heavily protected — most likely around three hundred guards, and we need everyone there neutralized.” General Lekshane thanked Vaya and she mounted her horse. “I see you have two new members. Mr. Aris, Mr. Shae, the Queen sends her thanks to you for defending our fair nation. The best of luck to you all.” Vaya kicked her horse, which bolted away through the underbrush faster than any horse Tayben had seen before.
“Soldiers,” said Lekshane when she was out of earshot, “we move westward. The Taurbeir-Krons are not for the lighthearted. No men but mountaineers can traverse them; but we are not average men. We will run straight over the Taurbeir-Krons, seventy miles in eighteen hours over hundred foot snow drifts and through hurricane winds. Try to regulate the energy inside you to stay warm, it shouldn’t be a problem. And watch the cliffs. Despite how far we can free fall without consequence, these mountains are tall enough to kill you. Platoons, stay behind your leaders. Leaders, keep up the pace; it’s going to be a long day.”
The peaks of the Taurbeir-Krons stood jagged, icy, and foreboding all around them. Even in mid afternoon, the cold pierced through the Phantom’s cloaks, forcing them to focus on regulating the energy inside them to keep their internal temperature normal. Within a period of thirty minutes, the company had seen both beautiful cold blue skies, and a fearsome blizzard that hurled stinging pelts of ice at their face. Tayben had not felt the need to rest or slow down in weeks; but the steep slopes of snowy mountain caused his heart to quicken.
Although he had been training relentlessly with the Phantoms, the snow weighed heavy on his mind. In the Eastern foothills of the mountains, Tayben had trained in the canopy to fully embrace the nymphs’ energy in his body. Being able to dart through the canopy gave him an unmatchable advantage in battle. Carrying just a spear, his mind frequently flashed back to his home in Woodshore, the smell of the fire in the smithy.
Also flashing in his mind were a blaze of crimson flames, and a grand Palace. Kyan was his only self who was smart enough to dislike the Ferramish government. The Evertauri, the Council . . . whenever he would think of his disloyal lives, he would run faster over the snow. Yet, with all the knowledge of threats facing Cerebria, he could not bring himself to discuss it with General Lekshane, Thephern Luck, or even Gallien. No one would believe me anyway. he thought.
The Phantoms’ black cloaks whitened in the howling snow, and not until far after nightfall did they reach the dense forest of Western Endlebarr.
Although the late summer night hung cool in Western Endlebarr, the forest seemed warm compared to the otherworldly blizzards of the Taurbeir-Krons.
The Phantoms had found their coordinates and stood by the bank of a river until they heard footsteps a half-mile away. They could not tell that the Ferrs were there by the actual thump of their boots, but by their effects in the forest around them like an irregular chirp of a songbird. The Phantoms could see their enemy through the mist minutes before the Ferramish would be able to see them. It feels strange to be the shadow I saw as a normal soldier. How strange it will be to look from the eyes of a Phantom onto the frightened eyes of a Ferr, who in turn will see nothing but a blur of shadow shoot by.
General Lekshane lowered his head and whispered to the battalion. “Leave no man alive, Tronum cannot know these spies and their battalion were slaughtered. However, do not kill the messenger of the spies’ Council, nor his bird, until I say so. Third platoon — Gerreck — lead your troops up into the canopy and form a wide perimeter around this riverbank; signal Second Platoon with numbers of men and horses. Second platoon — Luck — station yourselves in this tree; wait for the spies to gather here. First platoon — Harkil — encircle this riverbend, hide in the brush. As soon as the spies begin their meeting, First and Second platoon, knock out their watchmen.” a crack of a branch sounded out not a thousand feet away. “We improvise from there. Remember, we have fear by our side. To us, they’re normal soldiers; to them we’re nothing but shadow.”
Tayben’s Second Platoon did as they were told and scrambled like black squirrels up the tree. Waiting on it’s enormous branches, Tayben, Gallien, Ferron, Chent, and Thephern watched eight spies converge below them, six male and two female, and one teenage boy holding papers, a quill, and a birdcage. Five Phantoms far in the distant canopy signaled them as to how many surrounding troops they counted — three hundred strong.
A spy with pale, freckled skin spoke out fifty feet below them. “Good evening. I am happy that all of us found our way here through this bloody forest. Thank the Great Mother for compasses.” He continued to address the others concerning the operation as Thephern nodded at Chent Vantte, who drew an arrow, and let it fly through the skull of a guard below. Below him, Chent’s brother from the First platoon bolted silently across the brush and caught the dead soldier before he hit the ground. Tayben’s heart began to beat faster.
Chent drew his bow again and a soft whiz rang through the dark and stopped when it sank into another guard. A blur of black ran over and gently placed the guard on the ground. Neither the spies, nor the other hundreds of troops in the distance noticed. Another arrow. Another. Gallien reminded Chent not to kill the teenage messenger. Dozens of watchmen rested silently on the ground, and the Third platoon signaled Thephern that everything had gone to plan. From the tree, Tayben could barely see a group of cavalry in the distance; their commanders wore scarlet red sashes over their torso. Once Chent’s quiver ran out of arrows, his brother yanked them out of the bodies and silently threw them fifty feet back up to him.
Tayben’s eyes tuned into the conversation below. “ . . . and that shipment is currently traveling on the East River.”
“And how were the Cerebrians managing that in this bloody forest?” asked another.
“One moment.” The man turned around. “Guards, are we still on schedule?”
Tayben’s stomach plummeted and the platoon glanced at one another; the forest stood deathly still. “Guards?” called out the man. “Is everything alright here?” No response. He stood up and began walking away from the group and around a tree to locate a watchman.
Chent frantically looked at Thephern Luck, who nodded in response. Chent quickly loosed an arrow and hit the spy in the neck.
From an adjacent tree, General Lekshane clapped; the signal. A large man from the group could barely ask what the source of the sound was before Chent picked him off, and the first platoon of Phantoms silently shot out of the underbrush and ran swords through all of the spies’ hearts. Tayben’s platoon raced to the ground, but before Gallien could muffle the teenage messenger boy holding the birdcage, the boy screamed, “Assassins!”
The Phantoms heard the gallop of horses and the sound of unsheathing swords heading their way as Gallien gagged the boy and tied him to a tree. In a flash of darkness, the Phantoms bolted toward the trees and the enemy. As Tayben ran with his platoon, General Lekshane gestured across the diagonal of his chest, imitating a scarlet sash, indicating the necessity of killing the commanders first, causing disorganization on the Ferramish side. Gallien sped ahead of Tayben, grabbing a vine in a fraction of a second and swung himself up to the first layer of enormous tree branches from which he dove down and drove daggers into the chests of two commanders on cavalry. Streaks of black marked the only hint as to whether or not a soldier’s throat was about to be slit, and without any time to react, the soldiers all lay dead on their speeding horses with holes in their backs or arrows in their necks. Tayben ran alongside the horses and drove his spear into their necks, preventing an escape for any soldiers.
A horn sounded in the distance, and the Phantoms split into pairs to take the second group of oncoming soldiers. Beads of sweat that formed on Tayben’s forehead immediately flew off due to the great speed at which he drove his nimble feet through the underbrush.
Intercepting the oncoming troops, the Phantoms ran like water through the battalion of scarlet. While in reality, Tayben’s ability to fight had quickened, he perceived the soldier’s actions to be abnormally slow and weak; each Ferr barely had time to turn his eye and meet the shadow which drove a spear into his body. In the corner of his eye, Tayben spotted a scarlet sash on the shoulder of a commander and flew through the air, meeting his sword with a spear blow. The commander was the only person who stopped Tayben’s spear from it’s path. The commander swung a longsword in attempt to split Tayben’s spear, but failed when Tayben rotated his weapon. Twisting the spear, he hurled it into the wrist of the commander, driving between his bones, and causing him to drop his sword. In a flash, Tayben swung his spear around and leaned back, ready to strike; but because his agile body and mind moved so quickly, it was barely noticeable when Tayben paused after recognizing the face of the commander as one he had been acquainted with in the Palace. Tayben pushed the traitorous thought out of his mind, and plunged forward.
Ferron swept passed Tayben, signaling there were still more retreating battalions; no one could escape alive. He followed Ferron at the speed of a diving hawk; over logs and streams and under giant arching tree roots. Chent and Gallien joined them, followed by Thephern, and the five black blurs raced forward until they came upon a battalion of sixty men. Before attacking, the five perched themselves nearly invisibly on a tree which overhung a large waterfall and a lush ravine. Although it was night, the water sent small glints of moonlight up through the canopy. But as Thephern signaled to the four, a soldier from below called out. “They’re in the trees!”
Because each soldier panicked, the battalion of Ferrs launched fifty spears and arrows with little aim, making it impossible for the Phantoms to escape from such a wide volley of weapons fast enough. In a second, the five ducked behind the giant branches of the tree, standing up when the arrows had whizzed by their ears like a bee. But a lone spear flew up into the canopy a second behind the others, headed straight for Gallien, who was looking at Thephern. Tayben’s stomach dropped, and without thinking, his legs sprung him forward and he knocked the spear aside. Landing on a thin branch that snapped, he fell forty feet into the waterfall below.
Icy water soaked into his cloak and slowed his movements. The current of water pushed him repeatedly toward the boulders beneath the waterfall, spinning him in a vortex at the base of the waterfall. Tayben attempted to fight the current and breathe on the surface, but was lucky when he failed — the Ferramish troops had seen him fall and gathered at the base of the waterfall, ready to shoot him if he surfaced. As tiny bubbles shot all around him, the energy inside Tayben tried to compensate for the frigid black water surrounding him. He kicked his legs and tried to reach the surface, but even the strength of a Phantom could no
t overcome the tons of cascading river. But because he had enough oxygen and power to keep him alive, he closed his eyes and went limp, conserving energy until the current could sweep him along the river.
The troops were waiting for a black shadow to emerge from the river, aware that they could not accurately fire arrows at the base of the waterfall. As Tayben’s body finally flowed out of the vortex, he took off his cloak, and let it rise to the surface of the river.
Still perched in the canopy, Thephern watched closely and saw the Ferramish break formation and put down their weapons as a soldier reached down in the water and picked up the dripping black cloak. Ferron leaned toward Thephern. “Is Tayben-”
“He’s alive.” said Thephern.
“Then why is his cloak-”
“Tayben is weaponless, and he wants the Ferrs to think that they killed him, so they are not looking for him when he escapes from the river.” Below, the soldiers murmured about shadows. Thephern smiled. “They think that they we are gone. They only saw one of us, and one of us fell . . . Tayben wants us to attack them.” Waiting for Tayben’s head to appear somewhere downriver, the Phantoms drew their weapons.
Tayben opened his eyes and saw a hand reach in the water and grab his black cloak. After a minute, Tayben grabbed a branch on the riverbank and pulled his head out of the water. The Ferrs had bought his bluff. Silently, he emerged from the river and removed his boots to prevent the sound of his sloshing feet from echoing through the forest. As he stood up on the grassy forest floor, he caught a sword that his platoon tossed down to him. Three shadows plunged out of the trees, circling the troops. In an instant, Chent’s arrows rained down from the canopy and Tayben’s platoon slaughtered the remaining soldiers in a blur of darkness.
The bodies lay dead below them as they rendezvoused back to the riverbend where General Lekshane ordered them to separate. Gallien put a hand on Tayben’s shoulder and said, “Thank you, Tayben. I owe you my life. You’re just plain dumb sometimes, but braver than all of us.” Tayben smiled in response.