Servants and Followers

by Courtney Bowen

  Basha wanted to ask why Sir Nickleby was so concerned, but couldn’t. For the past few days, whenever they’d passed anybody on the road, Sir Nickleby made certain to sweep aside his cloak or saddle blanket to reveal the hilt of his sword in its scabbard beside him.

  Basha and Oaka had learned to follow suit, possibly to detract any possible murderer or thief. But perhaps it wasn’t necessary.

  The knight had all of these survival tips, and lectured them constantly on what they should expect while traveling through Mila Forest, Popo Hills, and Tau Valley as if he might not stay with them all of the way. He told them all about the cities and towns they might stay at, how to set up camp, the proper form of etiquette should they stay at a nobleman’s estate…everything they should know, it seemed.

  He supposed the knight was worried, in case something should happen to him and the boys were left on their own. But Basha was certain the knight would stay with them always. Sir Nickleby had to be one of the most experienced knights ever, and certainly knew how to plan things out. He wouldn’t be so careless as to let something happen to him.

  On the first day, the knight had planned their route, using a map full of intricate drawings of Arria. It showed the routes that traversed mountains, trees, towns, rivers, and castles. The sections split between Mila Forest in the north, Popo Hills in the middle, Tau Valley taking up most of the bottom half of the page and a blank space for the Wastelands ruled by Doomba on the other side of the mountains known as Dragon’s Teeth.

  “Where is Coe Pidaria?” Basha had asked, staring at the blank space on the map that first day, as if it might appear if he concentrated.

  Coe Pidaria, the legendary first capital of Arria where the first king, Corr, had ruled almost three thousand years ago. It was also home to Tau’s Cup, the sacred chalice the god had used to create the first humans. Coe Pidaria had been lost to the outside world when Doomba and his Wastelands had surrounded it.

  No one, as far as they knew, had seen Coe Pidaria since. But now they were heading there to retrieve Tau’s Cup so that Basha might bestow it upon his beloved Jawen back home in Coe Baba as a dower. It was a risky quest, considering the territory they would cross through, but Basha hoped it might be worth the reward.

  “It’s either in the northwest, southeast, or northeast corner of the Wastelands.” Sir Nickleby had told them. “People aren’t sure of the precise location. It’s been so long since anyone’s been there. I think it might be in the southeast, supposedly it was as far south as anyone could go. We, however, need to be careful about how we’re going to approach it. My feeling is that, if we were to travel southeast all the way, we might be noticed. So we’re going southwest, not southeast. I believe that’s the safest way.”

  “Isn’t that the long way around?” Oaka had asked, looking at the map. “I mean, if we were going southwest, then we would have to circle around...” He trailed off as he traced the route. “We’re going around on the coast down to the south, aren’t we? Traveling from west to east when we’re on the edges of the Wastelands, that’s dangerous. We’ll be practically traveling along the whole border of Arria throughout this entire trip. If we do manage to make the return journey, we’ll be making one great big circle or square!”

  “The reports I’ve heard indicate that most of the coast is clear of Doomba’s influence. It’s only farther inland, deeper in the Wastelands, that Doomba’s presence is really felt. There have been ships that went around the coast to Mirandor, though it was treacherous.”

  “I don’t want to spend any more time in the Wastelands than necessary,” Oaka had shuddered. “Not to mention traveling throughout all of Arria. I don’t think this is wise. How do we know that Coe Pidaria is out of Doomba’s influence?”

  “We’d know if Coe Pidaria was ever taken. There would’ve been a disaster of the worst kind. Doomba would’ve swept Arria right off the map if he ever got his hands on Coe Pidaria.”

  “Arria was nearly swept off of the map all those centuries ago. But it came back again.”

  “Barely.”

  Maybe Sir Nickleby worried overmuch. While Doomba’s Wastelands would be dangerous, thus far nothing had happened to them. It was still early, but if the rest of the trip was like this, it might be easy. Basha and Oaka had been warned of the dangers of the outside world, that Coe Baba was a safe haven. But if the whole world was like this, like Coe Baba, then it might not be so bad.

  “How much farther is it to Coe Anji now, sir?” Basha asked on this third day.

  “Fifty-five more miles, we’ve a full day ahead of us.” The knight pulled out the map.

  “Can we cover that distance today?”

  “If we try. From Coe Anji, we’ll go to Coe Aela. Coe Anji is where we’ll pick up some supplies, Coe Aela is where we ask the lord for assistance. Lord Fobata is Duke of Coe Aela, which is a castle, not a town. ‘Coe’ applies to both castles and towns. Anyway, Lord Fobata’s a good man, so he should be able and willing to help.”

  “How do you know that?” Oaka asked.

  “I’ve met the lord twice. First when I was invited to a feast there many years ago by the lord’s father, Joq, who was still Duke then.” The boys realized this would be another one of Sir Nickleby’s reminiscences. “Lord Fobata was just a boy, smart and ready to enlist. Good with stratagems, lists, and equations.

  “Then when I was older, traveling to Coe Baba with my daughter to take up my post as militia commander, he invited us to lunch when we stayed at his castle. Brilliant, well-spoken, and full of such ideas, and he wasn’t even thirty-five yet! But he seemed much older. Apparently, he’d just lost his wife.” Sir Nickleby realized then the boys were nodding off a bit.

  “Anyway, we’ll head straight south from Coe Aela,” Sir Nickleby said, gruff. “We’ll have all the supplies we need to make it through the Popo Hills without stopping at the Coes along the coast. Hill bandits most likely would be along those roads, picking off merchant trains and unwary travelers. So we’ll head across country, marching as quick as we can to avoid all of that. Then we’ll reach Coe Kiki.”

  “Coe Kiki?” Basha lifted his head up as he remembered the stories.

  “Aye, Coe Kiki,” Sir Nickleby nodded. “Maybe we’ll see the palace, or even stay there, if I’ve any influence left.”

  “The capital!” Basha turned to Oaka. “King Sonnagh! Wouldn’t that be worth the trip?”

  “I suppose, although I’m not getting the Cup for Sisila.” Oaka remarked.

  “And from Coe Kiki, we’ll head west, then south along the coast. Hopefully with enough supplies…” Sir Nickleby started to say, but the boys weren’t paying attention to him.

  “Don’t worry, you’ll get the glory.” Basha told Oaka. “If I get the Cup, I’ll be sure to say it was all because of you.”

  Oaka smirked. “I’m intrigued and interested. That might be worth the trip. Sisila can say she’s married to the man whose brother snatched Tau’s Cup…hey!” He cried as Basha tackled him, and the boys wrestled.

  Sir Nickleby looked up from the map. “I can’t believe I’m traveling with a pair of twelve-year-olds.”

  “We’re not twelve, we’re seventeen!” Oaka yelled, raising his head.

  “Act like it, then!” Sir Nickleby roared back as the boys stopped fighting. “We’re losing daylight. We need to eat fast, then leave. Pack up your stuff, we need to travel light,” Sir Nickleby said as the boys proceeded to follow his orders. “Don’t take anything out of your packs that you don’t need for the night when we camp. On this trip, don’t take any more than you need or can carry. Remember, the horses aren’t only carrying you, but also your things. We need to be prepared in case anything should happen to them.”

  “The horses? Sir Nickleby, why should we worry?” Basha asked.

  “Ah, ah, I’m the expert on this. As a leader, you should recognize when people have more knowledge than you do.”

  “A leader? I can’t be a leader!”

  “You’re a leader. You
’re responsible for this quest because of your oath to Jawen. You’ll take charge of your actions and this expedition, but only after you’ve learned to handle it. Until then, I’m in charge.” Sir Nickleby walked away.

  “A leader...” Basha said, slightly stunned. Never had he imagined…he’d gone on this quest, expecting that he would take care of himself and be responsible in fulfilling his task. But to take charge, and make decisions that affected others…he couldn’t do that, could he?

  “Basha, a leader?” Oaka laughed. “He’s not—”

  “He’ll be one day, Oaka!” Sir Nickleby cried, before continuing on.

  Basha frowned, wondering why Sir Nickleby had to defend him. The knight wasn’t doing him any favors with Oaka. But was it so ridiculous for Oaka to laugh at him?

  “Why am I not surprised he took your side?” Oaka muttered, low enough for Basha to hear, but not Sir Nickleby. “Why did he have to come along with us in the first place?”

  “He’s helping us.” Basha stared after Sir Nickleby.

  “Is he really?”

  “I hope so.” Basha followed after Sir Nickleby.

  He wasn’t ready to distrust Sir Nickleby and his abilities, when the man had mentored him for years. But the knight’s willingness to travel with them did strike him as odd, almost as odd as Oaka found it. But whatever reasons Sir Nickleby had, he hoped they were good ones.

  “With any luck, we might be able to travel the full fifty-five miles to Coe Anji, and be there tonight.” Sir Nickleby said as Basha caught up.

  “Have we been dawdling?”

  “We’ve been a little slow. It’s now the 9th day of Markee, and we left Coe Baba on the 6th, three days and we’ve only made a hundred miles. It’s understandable that we got off to a slow start, leaving late in the morning. But we traveled just as far the last two days as we did the first! I suppose you two and the horses need to adjust, but we still could make fifty miles a day if we pushed ourselves.”

  Basha hesitated to protest that Sir Nickleby kept stopping them every five miles, once an hour at least, to disappear into the bushes for a few minutes. Perhaps he was incontinent?

  “How long will the whole trip take, there and back again?”

  “A year at best if we survive, judging by the distance and if we don’t meet any trouble.” He shook his head. “Don’t forget to strap on your swords wherever we go, especially in Coe Anji. I advise you all to stay armed.” Sir Nickleby turned away from Basha, who wondered why the knight was so worried.

  * * * *

  “Oaka! Sir Nickleby!” Basha called, searching for his companions with just the skittish horses for company. They shied away from the forest and he clenched his fists, body tightening. “Never is it this quiet. Never.”

  He breathed in and out to calm himself down and wandered back towards the road he and Oaka had strayed from several minutes ago. Oaka and Basha had been waiting for the knight to catch up with them, sitting on their horses Joko and Talan. The knight had gone into the bushes again to take care of some business.

  “And he complains that we can’t make fifty miles a day?” Oaka shook his head. “Of all the nerve, he should be…”

  Basha had dismounted from his horse, meanwhile, noticing a side path leading off into the woods. It reminded him of the tunnel he’d walked down a few days ago, full of tree roots and skittering bugs creeping over everything, deep underground into the Oracle’s cave.

  He had to look closer. “I bet that I could race you down to the end of that path, and back before Sir Nickleby gets here.”

  Oaka had turned his head to see what Basha was talking about. “Must be a hunter’s path,” He sounded nonchalant as he gazed down the long trail that led into darkness. “Sure looks abandoned. Does it end?” He was reminded of a tunnel, too, the one that Loqwa, god of death, led spirits down into the underworld.

  “I’m pretty sure it does. Probably won’t be half a mile or so before the forest claims it.”

  “Half a mile and back, a full mile.” Oaka’s heart quivered. “Not bad. I suppose we can manage that before Sir Nickleby finishes. How about we make it a full mile down and back, two miles?” Why was he acting so brave? “For a real challenge?”

  “Let’s just see if it goes that far.” Basha wasn’t certain anymore, but he was stuck with the challenge since he issued it.

  They coaxed their horses into position at the start of the path. Basha mounted Talan, and they gave each other a moment to settle down before Basha and Oaka looked at each other.

  “Ready?” Basha asked.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.” Oaka stared straight ahead.

  “Go!” Basha cried, and they galloped off side by side.

  They attempted to outmaneuver each other on the narrow path with the forest closing in. The horses occasionally had to jump obstacles as the path twisted and turned. Basha lost sight of Oaka, and then he turned his head as Joko neighed to find himself gawking at an empty saddle.

  Oaka must’ve fallen off.

  Basha pulled sharply on Talan’s reins, stopping and dismounting from the horse. He whistled, and Joko slowed and turned around. Basha grabbed the reins of both horses and led them back.

  Basha hoped to find Oaka sitting up, none the worse for wear. But there was no sign of him or Sir Nickleby as he reached the main road. Had Sir Nickleby continued on, or gone back to look for them? And what would the knight say if he showed up without Oaka?

  Then Basha realized how awfully, terribly quiet it was, letting go of the horses’ reins. He squinted up at the trees, searching for any sight or sound of animal life, but it was unnaturally, eerily calm.

  Other people, like Hastin, growing up in cities and towns might not have noticed. But Basha had wandered the outskirts of the forest his whole life, so he knew something was wrong.

  Still, he knew that the heroes of old wouldn’t have been deterred. So, he inhaled deeper, and took a step forward.

  He heard a screech, and lifted his head up, towards a gap in the entwining branches that showed blue sky. He smiled in relief at this sight of life, the sun’s glare shielded from his eyes by the majestic form of a falcon soaring right over him.

  The dark brown feathers of the bird’s wing, tinted with black at the edge, gracefully tilted to circle around towards him. The magnificent bird’s black eyes glinted with razor-sharp perspicacity, and Basha realized it was flying too close to the ground and toward him.

  The horses neighed and reared up as Basha yelped when the falcon dove straight through the gap and slammed right into his stomach. He never imagined a falcon’s fall could have enough force that he fell over, but he did and landed on the underbrush. He lay there, groaning softly as he stared up at the sky, wondering if he was prone to disaster.

  He sat up, looking down at the falcon perched on his lap. “Never is it a good sign when birds start attacking you.” He knew that well.

  “Wolves! Coming this way! Get out of here, boy!” The falcon yelled.

  Basha screamed as the falcon stretched his wings out, then flinched as the bird flapped away from him, soaring off. The horses were still whinnying, almost screaming.

  Basha gasped, then thought about what the bird had said. Though a talking bird was an impossible occurrence, he leapt onto his feet. He scanned the area, thinking he should take the bird’s warning seriously.

  Then he heard the bushes rustling close behind him, from the hunter’s path. He whirled about, prepared to run, but Oaka emerged instead, covered in leaves, bruises and scratches from the branches and the fall he must’ve had.

  “Oaka!” Basha cried. “There was a falcon, he talked to me!”

  “What—never mind that!” Oaka exclaimed, pointing behind him. “There are wolves after me! Let’s get out of here!”

  The two young men rounded up and mounted their horses as Basha heard a howl not far behind. The horses reared again, and galloped off, pitching about their riders who barely hung on.

  The sunlight flashing and flari
ng between the trees’ shadows was filtered through the fleeting, flitting shades of Black Wolves loping in pace alongside the fleeing horses. Everything was black as the Wolves lunged out of the intervals and swerved into their course, flanking their horses and just lagging behind.

  Basha felt like his horse was swimming against the current, pushing him farther back toward the awaiting jaws, as the wolves were propelled forward by the same current.

  “I can’t get any fire! I can’t get any fire!” Oaka was crying for some reason next to him.

  Basha’s head was yanked away, twisted by Talan’s flight. Larger than ordinary wolves, these Black Wolves had despair-black fur surrounding blood-shot eyes that hunkered down over canine teeth, stretching below their lower jaws. These were monsters, like hyenas and wolves interbred.

  He heard the hollow snapping jaws, and managed to twist his head about again to see the foaming mouth of an alpha male mere inches away from Talan’s back leg. Yet the horse gave the beast a good sharp kick, sending it reeling away, and he was also relieved to spot blood streaming down the wolf’s nose. It proved, in the midst of this crazed, jarring pursuit, that these monsters were mortal.

  * * * *

  “‘My lords and ladies,’” Sir Nickleby said to himself in courtly fashion, pacing back and forth as he waited amidst the trees. “‘I would like to present…’ no, better make it ‘ladies and gentlemen,’ sounds better. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to present myself, Sir Nickleby of Coe Baba,’” He bowed deeply with a flourish, “‘and these two boys, Basha and Oaka, also of Coe Baba,’” He gestured back towards nothing.

  “Sir Nickleby, are you already preparing yourself to meet King Sonnagh?” Nisa asked as she jumped down from the tree where she’d been watching Sir Nickleby practice for the past minute. Her bag hit the ground just after her with a solid thud.

  Sir Nickleby turned around, slightly startled by her appearance, but he recovered himself. “It’s a long way off, and highly doubtful, but I hope that we’re prepared should we be given the chance. Besides, what else should I do while I’m waiting? And what’s in your bag that makes it so heavy?”