Sky Elf: The Anti-Matter Chronicles (The Matter Chronicles Book 2)

by P. G. Thomas

  “I told you to call me Lauren, and it’s my call. We don’t have time to talk right now.” After tightening the saddle belts, she raised herself onto the horse.

  John was upset, as he had wanted to go with Mirtza to visit Gayne, but now he wondered how the magician would react to his absence. Before they headed out, he asked Babartin to inform Gayne on the change in plans.

  They checked with the guards at the gate, who advised that the mayor’s party had not left. Lauren, having no desire to give the town the appearance that they were following, had her party ride out ahead to wait at the crossroads before they would follow the officials to the fort. The mayor’s party was a group of four, plus six from the town watch. With the powerful elf eyesight on their side, they could stay a safe distance back, hiding in the shantytown, and still be able to observe what the investigators did and where they went. As the search party approached the gate, they dismounted, tying a cloth fabric over their lower faces, and then approached the three bodies lying in the open gate. Both Alron and Panry thought it odd. When they left the fort, the gate was clear of all obstructions, and in fact, nobody had died in the gateway. No sooner had the four dismounted from their horses, then they were back on them, racing away from the fort.

  The six were extremely confused, expecting the search party to look at more than just three bodies, and they were unable to understand what had caused them to leave in such a rush. When they were sure no one would see them, they headed to the fort themselves. Most looked the same as when they had left, but the sunlight illuminated the full extent of the damage. From Alron’s quick examination, black market vultures had stripped anything of value from the dead soldiers. When he turned around, John was examining the three bodies at the gate, which had large black and white scabs on their faces, necks, and exposed arms, some of which seemed to be seeping blood. As John prodded the dead body, Alron winced and looked in the opposite direction, but none of the other motionless soldiers shared the same inflictions. However, the night scavengers had added to the ghastly scene. Empty eyes sockets looked skyward, as hungry birds had pecked the contents out. Exposed organs, rich in protein, were missing as well. Alron could see the massive damage done by Eric’s sword, both from its sharp edge and lightning, on all of the other corpses, but he could see none with the scabs that now fascinated John. It was evident to all that the three bodies in the gateway suffered a death different from the rest, being completely out of place.

  Pricking one of the scabs with a stick, John lifted it off, which caused Lauren to experience dry heaves. Grabbing the scab between his fingers, Lauren vomited her breakfast. “It’s wax.”

  “What did you say?” asked Alron.

  “These ones are fresher. The plague you see is wax dripped from colored candles to resemble an infection.” Picking off another scab, he rolled it between his fingers, holding it up for Alron to examine.

  “Friend John, I trust your assessment.”

  When Lauren had regained her composure, she became infuriated, “What the hell happened here? Those stupid cowards are going to rush back to the town, telling everybody about a plague. Stupid, cowardly bastards!”

  “Earth Daughter, we shall find another way to shed the light on your truth.”

  “Alron, up until this point, people have only seen posters and heard rumors. Nobody has ever seen proof they could say was plague, until now.” Lauren’s voice lost her anger, becoming quiet, defeated, “We should’ve arrived here first, making sure they found what we wanted them to find. We could’ve moved those bodies. Crap, if I came across those things, I would think plague. If John hadn’t figured it out…” The fire returned to her voice, “Sons of a bitch, somebody came back here, adding three bodies to this mess to make it look like the plague. Damn it all!”

  “We could take the bodies back to town, showing them the wax?” suggested Mirtza.

  “By the time we get through the front gate, the stories will have traveled through Newtown like they were in the wind. That entire shantytown out back will be deserted. I was hoping you would be able to bring back evidence, but there is no reason for that now.”

  John flipped over one of the bodies, “These guys were probably alive last night, and they’re not black-clad soldiers.” Everybody could see where the black-clad uniform had been cut so that it could easily be pulled over the lifeless body, “Rigor mortis hasn’t even set in. From the looks on their necks, I would guess somebody strangled them. If I was going to hypothesize a theory…”

  “Hypo size eerie?” asked Alron.

  “If I were going to make a guess, I would say that these three most likely called that shantytown home last night. If they had been here overnight, the scavengers would have taken the best parts. These guys were put here just for the mayor’s party to find.”

  Lauren led them into the bar that was beside the gate, “Mirtza, may I borrow your pipe? And see if you can find me a drink.” Packing the bowl, she mentioned to Mirtza that he was running low on his tobacco-like substance.

  “Yes, I found a store, but the prices were so high, I would much rather quit. I have a little bit of gold, but with everything being so expensive in that town, I cannot afford any luxuries.”

  “We have that same problem,” agreed Lauren. “Our lodgings and food might be paid for, but in that town, we would probably learn more if we had money to bribe people with.”

  Mirtza was kicking the floor, “There is a trap door here, but it is locked.”

  Walking behind the bar, Eric bent down, punched the floor, and lifted the trap door open, “Fresh spoils.”

  Alron and Panry were behind the bar in seconds, wanting to make sure that no threats lurked in the dark cellar. When Alron came up, he smiled, “Maybe Pintar will be interested in the contents: six casks and two dozen boxes or more. It seems yet that Mirtza shall take evidence back, Earth Daughter.”

  “Well, that wasn’t the kind that I was looking for, but I guess it solves one problem. Mirtza can you remove the oxen from your amulet, so we can use our horses to pull your wagon.”

  As Eric was retrieving the new cache of liquid currency, Alron walked up to Lauren, “Why did you bring Eric with us? He has not been himself.”

  “Well, if we ran into another army, you know, a couple hundred black-clad soldiers? The Earth Guard wouldn’t stand a chance. We would have to run again, and I’m freaking tired of running. Eric would be able to take care of them without even breaking a sweat. I don’t mean any offense, Alron, but I’m done with running. If they want a fight that badly, I’m sure that Eric and Tranquil Fury would be more than willing to accommodate any hostile visits, even if it’s not the path I want to walk.”

  Alron was unable to argue with her logic, in fact, if it were known what Eric was capable of, the trip south would have been completely different. When one hears such an outrageous prophecy, how can one believe such outlandish boasts it makes? He thought of the battle at the fort. It is different when one realizes that the prophecy does not be outrageous, “So what happens now, Earth Daughter?”

  “I don’t know. Go back to town? Maybe go for a walk through the shantytown, and see if any of Mother’s children recognize me. See how bad the rumors are.”

  Lauren, defeated, rode in silence with Mirtza in the wagon. When they returned to Newtown, the guards tried to give them a hard time, having received warnings to be on the lookout for six riders, who the mayor’s investigation party thought may have visited the plague-infested fort. Alron went to the back of the wagon, lifted out two of the wooden boxes, and had the guard sit down to examine their passes. He then explained that they were not six riders, but in fact, they were four riders and a wagon. The guard, recognizing his own counterfeit passes, let them in, as it would be bad for business if he rejected his own work, and then he picked up the boxes.

  At the inn, Alron had Eric bring in the kegs, “Friend, we have some negotiations to discuss, liquid negotiations.”

  Pintar’s eyes widened, “Please enlighten
me.”

  “We bring that which you desire. Where it comes from is not important. Both your and my costs are high. We shall give you three casks and twelve cases, but we shall receive half of your sales. What remains you will mark as private.”

  “Three kegs and twelve cases at fifty percent, yes, it is more than a fair deal, in fact, it is very generous.”

  “We are counting on you to provide that which we do not know, but need to know. With the business that will come your way, I expect you will hear much from many. Should you hear any news that would be of my interest, please advise.”

  When the wagon was empty, Mirtza and John took it to the stables and unhitched the horses. When he was sure that nobody was around, Mirtza removed his cloak, turning the harness and wagon back into gold amulets.

  After the meal, Babartin retrieved a book from his room, giving it to John. “Your friend Gayne, he understood your absence. He asked you to read some of this for your next meet.”

  John never expected a book. Opening it up, it was a hand written and illustrated text book of some kind, but he failed to understand what the words said. Taking it up to his room, he wanted to scream. In this world, he was illiterate. If he was unable to read, then Gayne would never teach him magic. If he ever wanted to explain anything complicated, he would have to draw pictures like a toddler, being unable to use equations or to express the laws of science.

  When Mirtza entered, he found John sitting on the bed. Seeing the book, he realized what was wrong. “I am sorry. We have been talking for so long that I forgot that we speak different languages. I never thought of you having to read. If you cannot read, Gayne…” The look on John’s face advised Mirtza that he had no need to finish the sentence.

  Nodding his head, John just stared at the book. So close, yet so far away. Then he thought of the first meeting with Mirtza, and the elfin magic that translated spoken words into a common speech, “Do you have any of that ointment from when we first met?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “I want to try a variation of its abilities.”

  Retrieving his cloak, he reached into a pocket, pulling out the small container. After dipping a finger in, John rubbed the paste onto his eyeglasses until there was an even and clear film over the lenses. Putting them on, he opened the book, and while it took a few minutes for his eyes to focus on the letters, the ointment caused the words to go in and out of focus, blending together and breaking apart. As the paste began to dry, he watched the odd shapes slowly move, twisting, changing into letters he recognized, then words. The magic paste amazed him, as it was able to identify a new need, adjusting to the circumstances.

  Mirtza watched as John spoke the first paragraph aloud, “Very resourceful.”

  “There are some words that I don’t understand, but we’ll worry about that later. I’m going to start reading this tonight. Thanks, Mirtza.”

  As Mirtza prepared his bed, John lit an oil lamp and began to read. When he had returned from a long bath, John was still deeply immersed in the pages, having almost finished the first quarter of the book. Late into the night John continued, as even Mirtza’s snoring was unable to break his spell of concentration. Taking him well past the midnight hour, he finished the book. He began to understand the concepts, including the language taught by the words. He also found some math formulas in the book, but they were wrong on so many levels. His initial impression was conflicting; whoever wrote the book did and did not understand the subject matter. Over half of the explanations in the book sounded like the author tried to explain it to himself, instead of validating his conclusions. In all, the book was 75% theory and poorly translated at that. Setting the book down, he thought about the trip back to the fort. Somebody had placed freshly doctored bodies to give the appearance of a plague. Who would do that and why? It was Lauren who made the report that the men died by steel and not by fever. John realized there was something wrong with that simple equation, but hugging the book, sleep slowly overtook his tired mind.

  Chapter 10

  With the inn busy every night, Pintar was making a significant profit, and as his prices increased, so did the complaints, but even though they criticized, they always returned the following night, to grumble even more. With the remaining stock, he determined he was good for another two months, and hopefully by that time, the regular brewers would have their next batch ready. With his newfound wealth, he would have sufficient funds to purchase the entire lot, keeping the market cornered. On the nights when the crowds died down, he would join his new guests, entertaining them with stories of his previous life; a town watch captain on the Bright Coast.

  Zack usually slept most of the day, but he was out at night in one form or another. He was careful to avoid the traps used by the less respectable eateries, which acquired their daily specials, as he wandered through the night in the form of a possum or skunk. He enjoyed watching the underbelly of the town rise up when the suns went down, reporting to Alron all the different deals and transactions he witnessed: guards bribed, middle-of-the-night-evictions, muggings, and such.

  Lauren became dispassionate about the current situation. She went on several walks through the shantytown with her Earth Guard, but nobody paid her any notice. In fact, it made her disposition worse, as she saw all of the people that needed her help, the ones she said she would help, but was unable to. Getting an advance from Pintar, Alron offered to take her shopping, but she had no interest in visiting the various stores.

  With the exception of John and Mirtza, the others would spend their days on the porch at the inn or wandering the streets, wondering what they should be doing next. The Ironhouse brothers were surprised to see so many dwarves in the town, meeting clan members from Steelore, Copperdwell, Ironmelt, Goldfire, Crystalglow, Silverlight, and many more. They were also pleased to hear that an Ironhouse Mine was located in the west, a month’s ride or more to the north. The Earth Guards also wandered through both the town and the shantytown, befriending numerous displaced elves.

  *******

  Two days before the next town hall meeting, Ryan was sitting on his bed watching Eric polishing his huge sword on the other bed.

  “Where’s Eric?”

  “Eric is fine.”

  “No offense, buddy, but you’re kind of boring. I think if you let Eric to the surface, well, it might be more interesting for the both of you.”

  “Why do you care?”

  “Eric’s my friend, and friends care for each other, it’s what we do. If you have a problem, talk to a friend.”

  “Caring is overrated.”

  “Nope. You’re as wrong as your sword is big. Caring, compassion, concern, kindness, these are the emotional building blocks that establish the foundation of a complete person, or in your case, an entity I guess. I’ve been thinking about you, Mr. Short Sentences. You lack emotion. You want to fight, having no idea whether it is right or wrong, and you really don’t care.”

  “What is wrong with that?”

  “Well, let’s consider the different situations. Fighting for the sake of fighting. After a while, you won’t be able to tell the difference between the people you’re fighting against, and those you’re fighting for. The fight becomes everything, and everything else becomes nothing. Fighting for the wrong reason is just as bad. If the victory is empty and means nothing, then why fight? Why not just walk away? If the result has no value, then whether you fight or walk away, you achieve the same conclusion. Now if you’re fighting for the right reason, that’s completely different. Lauren, the Earth Daughter, is trying to figure out what to do about the invasion. People are being killed with no chance to defend themselves, and families are being destroyed. She cares about that. If it meant nothing to her, she could walk away, but she cares, and that’ll give her an advantage at some point. That simple difference will save lives.”

  “Wrong? Right? It does not matter,” stated Eric.

  “Oh simple one, you’re wrong again. What happens if Lauren found a way to end this
whole mess in peace, so both sides get along? What would happen to you? Would you be happy or upset? Or would you just not care?

  “Not happy.”

  “Lauren said that you want to rebuild, to bring peace, but your approach is through violence. If she can restore peace without war, then you should be happy.”

  “I would not be.”

  “Why wouldn’t you be happy? You want peace, right?”

  “Yes, peace.”

  “Would peace be good?”

  “Yes, peace is good?”

  “Then you would be happy?”

  “No. Yes.”

  “So then you fight for the right reasons.”

  “Do I?”

  “Why don’t you ask Eric that? He’ll help you understand all of this. Worst case, he should be able to help form longer sentences, so we can discuss it at length.”

  Eric’s head began to twitch from the right, then to the left, and back to the right, like he was having an internal dialogue, which his body was acting out. Ryan wasn’t sure when he started what he was doing, he was just bored. Looking at Eric now, he wondered if he might have broken him. Heading down to the dining room, he was looking for both a drink and an alibi.

  Every morning, John and Mirtza went to visit Gayne. When the question was first asked, Gayne figured he would string John along, being only interested in his teaching fee. He had a number of confusing books that he could make him read and then quiz him on. While Gayne figured it would take months to read all of the books, he never expected John to have finished the first book on the first night, and then the next and the next. Instead of Gayne quizzing John, John began pointing out the contradictions between the books. Even worse, John was explaining to Gayne the parts that he never understood. On the day before the next town hall meeting, both John and Gayne were frustrated.

  *******

  Logan saw Lauren sitting on the inn porch. He had spent the last couple of days hanging around with the dwarves when they explored the town, going into strange shops and dark bars. He had spent a day with the elves too, but they just went out into the forest, and he had enough of nature to last him a long time. The dwarves in town wanted nothing to do with being outside.