Out of Nowhere

by William Cali

  The slim man had been making the most noise and paying the least amount of attention. Pent looked him dead in the eye and yelled into his face, “PAY. ATTENTION. MAGGOT!”

  The villager stopped jabbering and gawked at Pent with reproachful eyes. “You can’t talk—” Pent cut his words off with a firm backhand, knocking the man to the dirt. He stared up at Pent with a fearful look.

  “This is how I stood over that punk Gilbrand before I raised my sword to his neck. He ran off like a coward, is that what you’re going to do too? You gonna run, boy?”

  The man slowly shook his head. He mouthed the word no but seemed too afraid to speak.

  “Then GET TO YOUR FEET, MAGGOT.” He rose in quick order. The rest of the crowd had already lost a bit of their edge and was staring at him in a state of suspense. “What is your name, soldier?” The man stared into the void, a confused look on his face. “YOUR NAME, NOW!”

  “M… Monty!”

  Pent raised his fist as if to strike Monty again, who recoiled in fear. “When you speak to me you will address me as SIR, and only as SIR. IS THAT CLEAR, MAGGOT?”

  “Yes, sir!”

  “Monty, you are here because, at the core of your pathetic being, you are a marine! Never mind that, you are a SOLDIER. A warrior true! You will fight for Somerville to survive, isn’t that right, Monty?”

  “Yes, sir!” he said it with more confidence now.

  “And the rest of you? Are you here to fight? Are you here to die if need be?”

  The group was starting to get the picture. “Yes, sir! We are here to fight! To die if need be!”

  Pent marched over and picked up his sword. Who could have thought watching Full Metal Jacket and The Magnificent Seven would pay off like this? Thank you R. Lee Ermy…

  * * *

  Pent was trying to focus on what he knew could help in the short period of time they had. He knew next to nothing about military training. He could only draw from his experience with drills on the football field and stuff he had seen on TV. These people deserve better than the crap I’ve picked up from my dad’s taste in movies. But they’re stuck with me, and that’s all I’ve got.

  If he had months, not days, to prepare, maybe he could have done physical training to get this mostly shrimpy “army” into better shape. He could have used a more regular workout himself. He wasn’t the grizzled soldier he needed to be, despite the constant and grueling work of life in Somerville. Just going one round with Gilbrand had left him winded, which wasn’t a good sign.

  But there was not enough time for that, so he focused on what he could. The two-pronged effort was focused on discipline and basic formation drills.

  Discipline was a learned practice. He didn’t have much experience in instilling this kind of belief in people, but he found that he was gathering trust among the twelve volunteers. He told them to move as one, to stand and fight, and not run at the first sight of danger. “You are all the front line. It’s on you whether we live or die. Never lose sight of that.”

  They took to it well enough. When one stepped to the left, the rest followed. When one moved to fall back, the men behind him retreated. They started to think together as a unit, two rows of disciplined bodies. A half dozen more “recruits” joined them as the day progressed. The process continued, and Pent drilled them all day.

  The other side of the coin was the formation and movement training. “I’ll be honest with you all, I’m no knight,” Pent admitted. “I’ve never used a sword before. I’m not really familiar with it. But I know this, at least. If you stick it in something, it bleeds. If you swing it at an unarmored arm or leg, it’ll take it off. So, when we’re out there fighting for our lives, go for the weak points.” He went over tactics, telling everyone to keep the terrain and Faldo’s fortifications in mind. “Lead them into those trap holes, lead them close to the towers.” Pent felt the mental drain and he kept brainstorming ways for his warriors to be more effective. “It’s gonna be hard when we’re in the thick of it. But try to remember this: Fight the greatest threat to you first. That’ll be the person who is in front of you. After that, think about where you’re most needed. Helping a friend in danger, retreating to a better position. And if you see a chance to take out Gilbrand, or to take out Yozer, go for it.”

  Pent was seeing improvement, hour after hour, day after day. Against it all, watching their slow progress, Pent felt a sense of pride. Man, I guess I’m not so useless after all. I can do this. I can help these people. He didn’t lose sight of his own hand in putting everyone into such a dangerous situation, but Pent felt pride. Not just in their progress, but in his own. I can make things happen, I can lead, and I can create change. That’s worth more than bagging groceries in my book, as long as we can live through this.

  He was falling into the job as well as he could, and his soldiers were following his lead. He could only guess at how his enemies were preparing themselves.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  A skin-crawling cackle ripped through the air like a thunderbolt. Birds scattered in fear and surprise, blotting out the sun. Wild dogs stared to the heavens, frozen in shock. The bears, the wild horses, all manner of animals and even insects stood frozen in place. The trees of the forest seemed to shake in response to the happenings of the sky. Everything looked on in horror as Yozer flew above them. He soared through the sky, laughing in a deranged manner.

  “I can’t let an affront like this stand!”

  He mused over Agme’s words and could not repress a spiteful laugh at the thought. It had been years since he had left his domain since he had wandered through the garden of his labors. His plan had continued without interference for so long. The world was submissive and docile, the people were safe, and, because of that, he hadn’t needed to show his hand. Until now, of course. Whoever this rebel was, they threatened to upset the balance he had strived so hard to create.

  “They’re upsetting the peace. They’re wasting time I could spend on my studies.”

  He had created many different, whimsical wonders in his laboratories, and now he was out in the field again. Agme was right, this work was beneath him; a vassal should have been handling this. One of my men to the north, or perhaps one of the Freewalkers. They would surely have been more competent than that fool. But perhaps the idea of showing his power occasionally had merit. He hadn’t done it frequently enough, that was the issue. He had been too soft, too kind with his people. He needed to spend more time ruling them himself.

  Despite his mounting anger, this distraction was proving to be the entertainment he had been craving. He felt a century younger as the wind rippled against his wrinkled, waxy face. An outing every so often, it might do me well. A secret blessing perhaps, that these incompetents needed me to step in and handle things myself.

  The thought of his vassal’s failure soured his mood again. He glanced at the corpse he was dragging behind him. Sure could use fewer fools like this in the world. He smiled as inspiration flooded his mind, and he changed direction slightly. “Perhaps a visit to your homelands is warranted, don’t you agree, Lord Gilbrand?”

  He continued cackling as his cloak billowed in the air.

  * * *

  “Lady Marjen, there is an intruder on the castle grounds!” The guard was puffing heavily as he burst into the lady’s quarters, having run here from the courtyard.

  The matriarch of Castle Gilbrand turned slowly. Her face was flushed, eyes bleary. An empty glass was tipped over on her night table, red wine dripping out and staining the wood. “Oh? And no word from my husband, still?”

  The guard shook his head, armor jangling lightly. “No, my lady. Captain Ricard is assembling the men immediately, and he has asked me to ensure your safety. We are not to leave your quarters.”

  The woman stood up, glowering at the guard. “I will not be detained in my own castle. Go now and make yourself useful. Retrieve my children at once.”

  “Y… yes, my lady. Right away.” The pale-faced guard turned and spri
nted out into the hallway.

  Marjen sighed, eyeing her overturned glass. “Gilbrand, you old fool. What insanity have you brought to our home now?”

  * * *

  Yozer passed over the walls of Gilbrand Castle, knocking over a flag with an intricate black and yellow cross on it, and floated down to the castle square, much to the shock of the guards.

  Several of the castle’s residents had seen this landing. They pointed at him and yelled out in fear. The guards posted on the walls were confused and fearful, staring up at the robed, bald-headed man. A bird flying over the gate was normal. A robed ghoul carrying a large corpse over the wall… That was not normal.

  The guards wore matching sets of armor, each looking alike with their steel plate and helmets. One of them at the gate walked towards the cloaked man. This guard wore a red cape draped over his shoulders. One of his subordinates had addressed him as Captain Ricard. He regarded the cloaked figure, his sword drawn, before speaking.

  “Who are you? Know that you trespass in the home of Lord Gilbrand. Speak your name quickly, villain, or prepare to taste cold steel.”

  “Bold threats,” Yozer growled, a predatory smile on his face. “I pray you’re prepared to act on them. It would be a shame for you to lose your life so recklessly.” He swirled his cloak around in a flourish. “Sheath your sword, my faithful soldier. I am your true lord, Master Yozer. Kneel before me, for I am the lord of all living things.”

  Ricard stared at Master Yozer, his mouth agape. He gave the matter a moment’s thought and realized that no ordinary man could take flight as this one had. He dropped to one knee. “Master Yozer, it is a great honor and an equally great surprise to meet you in this manner. The lord of this castle has not yet returned to us, but I will assist you in any way I am able.”

  “It is a matter of grave importance, I’m afraid. I must speak with you, and then I demand an audience with the people of Gilbrand Castle.”

  Ricard listened to Master Yozer’s tale with melancholy and sadness, which ignited into anger in the end. Ricard expressed caution over being so open with the castle’s residents, but Yozer insisted that he speak to Gilbrand’s people, and so Ricard called everyone to the square. It took several minutes to rouse the entire castle, but Ricard and his guards worked feverishly, already overtaken by Master Yozer’s terrifying presence. Among those gathered were Lord Gilbrand’s wife, daughter, and son.

  * * *

  The masses huddled around a small stage in the square. Yozer admired the stage’s simplicity. He pictured it being used for public executions and little else. In a way, what he was about to do was a kind of public execution—the destruction of innocence. He found pleasure in preparing these fine people for the many injustices of the world. An execution could be a comfortable thing, educational and entertaining. The killing of a criminal, the hardening of people. You needed to be tough to live in this world, and these people were soft, living in relative wealth and safety. He was ready to change that.

  “Great people of Gilbrand Castle! I fear there are those among you who don’t know of me. In truth, it has been some time since my name has rung out among the common men. The time of only a few privileged lords and vassals knowing of me has now passed.” Yozer waved his hands out over the crowd. “I am Master Yozer. I am wielder of endless powers, and my word is law. I am responsible for providing you everything you cherish and love. Your lord, Gilbrand, fights in my name, and he fights just and true.”

  He took a brief moment to stare down at the twinkling faces regarding him in awe. “But perhaps… perhaps I need to correct myself. For, you see, the truth is that Lord Gilbrand did fight in my name. He was a vassal of great honor and distinction. He did fight for truth and justice. But no longer.” He reached behind, withdrawing Gilbrand’s mangled body, and threw it to the ground before the stage. “Gilbrand has fallen. He is no more.”

  The crowd gasped and moaned in agony. There was despair in every direction as maidens wiped tears from their eyes and men raised their voices in angry and despondent shouts. Rage was boiling up in the crowd, and, with no other target, they shouted impotently at the stage and the robed man on top of it.

  The voice of a child rose out of the crowd, “Papa! Noooo!”

  A young boy ran and kneeled by the corpse, wiping a stream of tears from his eyes. A young woman, perhaps a half dozen years older, joined his side. “Peter, please… try and control yourself. Mother always wants us to act as nobles… as nobles should.” She forced the words out between sobs of her own. The crowd silenced, the anger burning down to smoldering sympathy in an instant at the sight of this young woman trying not to cry over the mutilated corpse of her father.

  “Catherine, come fetch your brother and be gone from this place.” Lady Marjen approached the stage with a determined look on her face. Catherine opened her mouth as if to challenge her mother’s decision, but Marjen raised her hand. “Don’t speak back to me, child. Leave, now. This is no place for children.”

  The two youths retreated past the crowd. Marjen shot a glance at the mangled corpse, her face twisted in a grimace of disgust. She then glared upwards, addressing Yozer. “Oh, great Master Yozer. You come here bearing the body of my once valiant husband. What great tragedy has befallen him?”

  Yozer observed her, this lady who looked upon him so boldly, who spoke to the point. A blessing that the children are the spitting image of this one, and not the unfortunate looking father. He had noticed a hint of sarcasm, of disbelief, in the tone of her voice. She’s bold to address me in this way. She’s made no attempt to hide her contempt. It was clear from her tone and from her expression that she knew who was responsible for her husband’s death. You should have been running this part of the world instead of your idiot husband. You’re made of stronger stuff. Yozer smiled at the thought.

  “Noble lady. It is with great sorrow that I visit you. Great Gilbrand, Honorable Gilbrand, was collecting his personal tax from a village not far from here. Are you not familiar with his responsibilities?”

  Captain Ricard had taken his place next to Lady Marjen and spoke for her. “Yes, Master Yozer. It is typical of this time of the month. Gilbrand rides east to Somerville, a small village of little novelty but their ability to produce hard liquors. He accepts a tribute from them, and rides back.” He palmed the hilt of his sword. “It’s usually a trip of no consequence. As such our lord makes it himself, with only a servant or two to haul the cart. He regarded it a pleasant matter, without need of an escort.”

  “It appears, most regrettably, that the trip was of great consequence this time. Gilbrand rode to Somerville to seek out his duly owed compensation. Instead, he was met with open rebellion. He was butchered, mutilated, reduced to the frightful form you see before you.” Yozer drew his hand over his face, hiding a smirk that had crept to the corners of his lips. “By chance, I had been in the area, observing the lands near my castle. It was then I came upon Gilbrand in this woeful condition. He directed me back here, told me to alert his family and friends of this horrid tragedy, and I came at that very moment with him in this regrettable form. Alas, I was unable to save him. My powers alone were not great enough.”

  Yozer gazed upon the crowd of people. He watched them mulling his lies over in their hearts and minds. If there is one thing you can count on the masses for, it’s in believing whatever their masters and lords say. The people are gullible. Stupid. They need something to sate their need for answers in this absurd world.

  The people clamored for blood. The crowd began with angry murmurs, but the murmurs soon elevated to shouts asking for reparations. A chant of “death to Somerville!” rang out. Yozer looked solemn and thoughtful, hiding his amusement. He didn’t have to coax them much to rile them so. He stared at Marjen, her eyebrow was furrowed. Captain Ricard whispered something in her ear; she scoffed and waved him off. Then she left the crowd with her head held high, but Yozer could sense the defeat that had consumed her. He turned his attention to Ricard.

  �
��You are in charge here, noble sir?”

  “Yes, Master Yozer. In matters of state, Lady Marjen should rule here, as Lord Gilbrand has fallen.” He paused, tilting his head to the side.

  “But?”

  “But she has declared her intention to stay out of these affairs. I imagine her grief at the loss of her husband is too much for her to bear. I would have thought her desire for vengeance would be overflowing, but perhaps this is the nature of the fairer sex.”

  Yozer raised a hand outward towards Ricard in a welcoming gesture. “We all grieve in our own ways. But I echo your sentiment: the time for vengeance is now. We must strike quickly, and with an overwhelming force, the likes of which they could never anticipate. Go now. Gather your best men, your best horses. We must ride to meet them in Somerville.”

  “What of Gilbrand Castle, my lord?”

  “Leave a small number of men here to defend it. The greatest danger to you lies to the east. If you march to meet them, you shall have no fear.” He smiled at his own cleverness. “A skeleton crew should suffice.”

  Ricard nodded and then tore off to follow Master Yozer’s instructions. Before he had gotten far, Master Yozer had called out to him. “Be mindful! There is a tall, dark-skinned man among their number. He is their ringleader, and he is the one whose head we need to take more than any single other.”

  * * *

  “Catherine, what will we do now? What will become of us now that father is gone?” Peter wiped tears from his still blurry eyes. “I can’t believe he’s gone. He was always so brave and kind, how could those villagers do such a horrible thing?”

  “Raise your head, we need to find Mother. She will know what to do.” Catherine wasn’t sure how true that was, but she had to say something. Peter was inconsolably upset by their father’s death. She could barely keep her heart still, but he needed her more than ever before. “This pain will pass. That is what the wise say anyway. We will live beyond this, together.” It was hard to visualize that life, even as she spoke the words.