Servants and Followers

by Courtney Bowen

  “Nothing much, just some weapons. I told you not to wait up for me. The boys are already suspicious, especially Oaka. He doesn’t trust you.”

  “I probably deserve it, after what happened at the militia tryouts.”

  “That wasn’t your fault, not entirely. Anyway, you can’t keep stopping every few miles just for me. You won’t get anywhere that way.”

  “We’re on horse, you’re on foot. It’s unfair that you should fall behind, and try to catch up with us at night while we slept. How could you keep up such a pace?”

  “You’re too much of a gentleman. I’ve some stamina, but admittedly, I would’ve fallen behind.”

  “You should’ve gotten yourself a horse before you left Coe Baba. You could’ve borrowed one from me.”

  “Well, I can’t exactly afford one, and I was leaving on short notice. Besides, a horse attracts too much notice, especially when I’m supposed to be traveling surreptitiously. I didn’t want to startle you all.”

  “Well, you certainly startled me,” Sir Nickleby remarked, remembering that first night he’d been on guard duty, and caught Nisa watching their camp.

  Nisa had to explain a lot then, but he was convinced in the end that she was Old Man’s daughter, doing her father’s duty on this trip. He’d almost laughed at the thought of Nisa and Iibala meeting, until he’d learned that had already happened.

  “My daughter certainly is a wonder,” Sir Nickleby had muttered.

  Perhaps he’d confessed too much to Iibala when he’d told her what happened on the night Berevus betrayed his militia, but it was necessary for him. She’d been complaining too much about his mournful behavior, which worried her, and he needed to tell somebody the truth before all of the lies and rumors swallowed him up.

  “Anyway,” Nisa said now, crossing her arms. “You should be more careful. The boys are getting restless.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “They took off three minutes ago down a side trail. They said they would race a mile down and back before you got back out of these bushes.”

  “What?” Sir Nickleby ran out of the bushes as Nisa shook her head.

  The Old Man would’ve been upset to learn that she’d allowed the boys, especially Basha, to get out of her sight. But she thought that Sir Nickleby deserved to learn a lesson of his own about ignoring his duties.

  Sir Nickleby mounted his horse and took off, galloping the wrong way. He went down the main road instead of the hunter’s path that he must’ve missed.

  “Sir Nickleby! Wait!” Nisa cried, coming out of the bushes and seeing his misdirection.

  However, she was forced to hide herself again when she heard two horses coming onto the main road from the hunter’s path. She witnessed the falcon’s crash into Basha, Oaka’s appearance, and the Wolves.

  Nisa lifted her head as she saw the last of the Black Wolves running after Basha and Oaka. They were unaware of her existence, concentrated on their prey.

  She muttered, “You’re not getting them,” and quickly went to fetch her bag. She should’ve been more careful with her own charges.

  His horse galloping down the road, Sir Nickleby muttered to himself, “Why can’t they just wait for me? Is it so hard for them to sit still?” He paused and muttered to himself, “Better make it ‘lords and ladies,’” still thinking about the speech.

  He peered about in search for the side trail until a howl echoed throughout the forest. Sir Nickleby’s horse reared up as he pulled on the reins. He couldn’t figure out where the noise was coming from.

  “Sir Nickleby!” Basha called out, behind him.

  Sir Nickleby turned his head around, and saw one of the most horrific sights he’d ever seen coming his way. The boys were riding their horses like all of the demons of the shadow worlds were after them, and they were.

  Black Wolves, Hyena Wolves, a whole pack of them, like the one that should’ve been there in the forest when he’d discovered the scout last Suma. They were after the boys, after Basha. He couldn’t believe how time slowed down as everything moved, fast as lightning, towards him.

  “Well, I suppose I’ll have to do my job.” Sir Nickleby jumped down from his horse as the animal bolted. It was harder than it looked to make such a jump. He managed to land on the ground with a roll, and stand up again, unsheathing his sword. He should leave such acrobatics to young people like Nisa.

  “Keep going, boys!” Sir Nickleby called out as they tried to rein in their horses. “I’ll catch up!” He waved them on, still sore.

  The boys couldn’t stop the horses from galloping past, like lightning streaking across the sky in jagged lines. Sir Nickleby strode out into the middle of the road. “Come on, you bunch of dogs from in-bred mothers!” He roared. “Have at me, Wolves!”

  He cried out as the pack launched itself at him; he wouldn’t die without some pain. Oh, Iibala, he was sorry…

  * * * *

  Something had happened, or was happening, Doomba sensed, opening his eyes behind the mask in the Wastelands, south of Arria. He couldn’t tell just when or where it’d occurred, or what it was.

  The shadows toiled, bringing him images from all parts of the world in every imaginable time as rapidly as they could. Yet they couldn’t always be precise or informative about what was going on when they were only sentient enough to observe, not to discern and reach conclusions.

  Thus, his senses and shadows in this matter didn’t exactly help him much when their information was a bit piecemeal. But from what little he could tell and sense, whatever had occurred was thrilling, exciting, and ultimately disappointing, as the quarry had gotten away from them.

  Still, there was some satisfaction for now, a little bit of meat and blood left to share amongst his Servants, far away from him, to the north. The north, there always seemed to be some disturbance happening up there these days, but then again, the tiger was expected to come from the north.

  The tiger…was it…could he’ve escaped yet again from pursuit? Doomba’s agitation aggravated his shadows as well, twisting and turning into smaller loops to coil as tightly as they could to protect him and constrain his temper.

  Why was the tiger of light always escaping? What could be protecting him? There was always something that seemed to be shielding the tiger, hiding him from Doomba’s senses and protecting him from the Servants and Followers. Who was he, and what were these forces aiding him? Doomba had to know before it was too late. The shadows trembled.

  Having surrendered his humanity, or most of it anyway, long ago, when he, as Memba, had consumed a demon and allowed it to take control of his body, past and present had lost all meaning to him. He’d cheated death and become deathless, although he wasn’t immortal.

  The tiger of light was prophesized to destroy him, but Doomba would’ve none of that. He would come to an end eventually, hopefully when everything else in this world ceased to exist.

  Although even then, he would search for a way to escape this dying world, and enter another world, perhaps to inhabit another body. Perhaps the tiger of light could be the vessel he needed, although Doomba had to be sure the tiger of light would’ve no will left to fight back against him.

  “Sire?” A gringrok’s voice called out from the doorway. “One of the Trollas has come here to complain about a disturbance in the Pits.”

  “Isn’t there always?” Doomba grumbled, his dream disrupted. “Send him in.”

  * * * *

  “Sir Nickleby! Sir Nickleby!” Basha cried.

  “He can’t hear you, Basha!” Oaka exclaimed, trying to turn his head around as he thought that he saw something, and grimaced. The wolves had Sir Nickleby; there was no point in returning. “Just keep going!” he insisted, looking away.

  They’d to keep going and survive, there was no point in staying behind to die. He wished that he could’ve summoned up fire to burn up those wolves, though, just like he’d summoned up fire to burn Hastin’s wooden sword and the bushes. But those times had been by accident.
How had he been able to do such a thing? What was this magic?

  Talan and Joko galloped as fast as they could, with Basha and Oaka still hanging on, but at least the boys had better grips on their reins, and their seats, still bouncing a bit, were more firmly planted. At last, the horses slowed down, exhausted from the flight, as Basha and Oaka looked around. It’d been several minutes since they’d left Sir Nickleby behind, but they must’ve been several miles from where the wolves had surrounded…Oaka shuddered at the thought.

  “We have to go back!”

  “Are you kidding me? Basha, we can’t go back, Sir Nickleby is dead! We have to face the truth—why are there no wolves attacking us right now?” Oaka asked, looking around. He couldn’t see anything besides the forest that surrounded them. Why were there no wolves surrounding them now, like they’d surrounded Sir Nickleby?

  “Why do you say that?”

  “They were right behind us, they were after us! Half…the horses can’t run anymore. Half of the wolves could’ve gone after us, while the other half stayed behind with Sir Nickleby…” He gasped. “They were…we should’ve been killed by now.”

  He was almost frightened of that fact alone, it didn’t make any sense. Nothing made any sense to him at this point, the wolves, the fire, and Sir Nickleby…could they’ve saved the knight? But how?

  “You’re hopeless. A true pessimist. We’re alive.” Basha said, slightly surprised by that as well.

  “I can’t handle this.” Oaka wheezed, frowning as he leaned over Joko. Why did all of this seem so familiar to him? It nagged in the back of his mind.

  “Sir Nickleby died to save us...” Basha looked up. “The birds! Can’t you hear them?”

  “What birds?” Oaka looked around fearfully. There was something about a giant bird in that memory of his. “Yes, I guess I can hear them. What does that mean?”

  “They weren’t here when the wolves were, the wolves have gone! It’s safe!”

  “Safe? How can that be?”

  “I’m going back. I have to see.” Basha dismounted.

  “Basha, you can’t!” Oaka dismounted from Joko as well, rushing over to stop him. “There’s nothing left! There’s…” He stopped as Basha turned towards him. “Nothing left. I think I saw the wolves tearing…” He shuddered. “There’s nothing left of Sir Nickleby.”

  “You’re wrong. He’s…oh, Oaka, what have I done?”

  “You’ve got to be strong,” Oaka grabbed hold of him. “I don’t think that old knight would want to see us like this.”

  Basha laughed bitterly, thinking of Sir Nickleby disciplining them for being so morose at his death. “Oaka, what have I done?” He asked, still somber.

  Oaka wrapped an arm around him. “We’ve got to keep going. Come on, let’s get out of here before those wolves decide to come back.”

  “The wolves…I think they were Black Wolves, Hyena Wolves.”

  “They can’t be Black Wolves, those are Doomba’s wolves. Why would Doomba’s wolves be chasing after us?”

  “The Black Wolves were hunting us, but not for food.” Basha looked back the way they’d come. “I think they were chasing us for sport, or why else would they leave us alive? And the rats, and the gruelmoff,” He gasped, turning back to Oaka. “Do you remember the gruelmoff, Oaka? The one that chased and nearly killed us when we were eight years old or so? Then the Old Man appeared to save us!”

  “He wasn’t…” His brain rattled as he shook his head furiously. “No, that didn’t happen. That was just a story you told, and it got confused…”

  “Wake up, Oaka! It did happen, just like this!” Basha cried as he wondered why any of it’d happened. “And maybe…”

  “Maybe they’ve had their fill,” Oaka stopped as he realized what he was talking about. “I mean, I don’t think they would’ve left us…” He wished that he hadn’t opened his mouth as Basha stared at him in horror. How could he be so callous and cruel?

  “You fellows really are fools! They weren’t after you, they were after me!” A voice yelped.

  The two young men stopped, and turned, looking up.

  “Holy Sitha.” Oaka shuddered. “That bird really did talk, didn’t it?”

  “I told you so.”

  “My name’s Fato,” The bird on the branch said, “And I happen to be a falcon, you disrespectful balnor-brain idiot!”

  “I’m not an idiot, you foul-mouthed falcon!” Oaka cried, striding up to the tree. “You’re the one that got us into this mess?” He grasped the trunk and tried to climb it. “Those wolves would’ve torn us to pieces, if poor old Sir Nickleby hadn’t stopped to fight. And our horses hadn’t nearly run themselves to death!”

  “It’s sad to see the state our country’s children are in.” Fato said as Oaka failed to climb the tree. Oaka trembled and slid down the trunk. “Getting sadder by the minute.” Fato shook his head.

  “At least you’d the advantage of being able to fly ahead, while we were left to fend for ourselves!” Oaka cried, still trembling, as he looked down at the ground. Why couldn’t he have summoned up that fire?

  “Oaka, calm down. He did warn us, or at least he warned me.” Basha approached his brother.

  “I’m sorry for what happened,” Fato cleared his throat. “To Sir Nickleby, especially. I suppose you’re right about all of that, but the rest of us…we’re fine enough, aren’t we? And I think you two need some help. If I were to come along…”

  “Help? We don’t need any help from you! We can handle ourselves, thank you very much. We especially don’t need help from the likes of you, who would fly away at the first sign of trouble. No thanks.” Oaka muttered, crossing his arms.

  “I’m sorry, okay? That’s the best I can do. I’m a falcon, but I’ve got some experience in traveling. I can see things farther away than any of you can. I’ve flown countless miles, and…a bird is a bird, and a human is just a human,” He muttered, about ready to turn and fly away.

  “Wait a minute,” Basha said, holding up his hand. “We’re…I’m sorry for the way Oaka talks.” Oaka gasped; how dare Basha apologize for…“It’s just that we’ve suffered a loss,” Basha continued. “Our mentor Sir Nickleby was the most experienced person we’ve known, especially when it came to traveling and fighting. We’ve known him for years,” Basha looked up at the bird. “It’s just a shock. I know that, if you could’ve, you would’ve faced those wolves yourself.”

  “What are you doing?” Oaka asked.

  Fato slowly nodded. “Yes, it’s true. If I could’ve fought, I would’ve, but I just couldn’t stand up against those wolves. All I’ve got are my beak and talons to attack, and I’m no match against them. No match whatsoever, all I could do was fly away. But I’ve got my mind, and that’s as sharp as ever to know, see, and hear things. I could be useful enough to…” He hesitated.

  “No one can replace Sir Nickleby!” Oaka insisted.

  “Well, I can’t make up for your lost mentor, but I can be useful if you would let me.”

  “Oaka, listen, I think we should consider.” Basha dropped his voice low.

  “Are you out of your mind?” Oaka dropped his voice as well. “You must be crazy after what just happened!” He knew that he was. “And it could happen to us if…”

  “There must be a reason why those wolves were after Fato.” Basha seemed ready to say something else just then. “We’ve got to help him, and we do need help.”

  Basha wasn’t ready to believe those creatures were after him, not the crows, the gruelmoff, rats or even the Black Wolves. Yet the thought did cross his mind. “We don’t know the first thing about traveling. And…”

  “He’s a bird! What can he know about what humans…” Oaka flapped his mouth a bit, flabbergasted, then grunted. “Besides, what would be the reason?”

  “Royal messenger bird!” The falcon called, and the two young men turned around to face him as he started to sing, “Fato the falcon, Fato the falcon, royal messenger bird extraordinaire! Who is the one bird
you can depend on to deliver the message that will save the day?”

  His song hit the high and low octaves, a noble tune that seemed familiar to them even though they’d never heard it before. He apparently had been listening to their conversation, and seemed desperate to prove himself.

  “This is…” Oaka said, confused and furious once more.

  “Wait a minute. I think it might be true.” Basha said. “Battle of Weasel Fall, in the War of the 3rd Ascension, do you remember that history lesson in school? King Vivolan the 2nd wanted a message sent, so they got…”

  “Wait a minute, wasn’t that almost two thousand years ago? And I think I would’ve heard if…” Oaka tried to recall his school lessons. “Royal messenger bird?” He repeated, turning to stare at Fato. “They’ve got the spell to make animals talk?” Now he remembered that was the big deal about Weasel Fall.

  “Point of fact, it was a spell for birds to learn and speak human language,” Fato said. “They found it again about fifteen years ago, after it’d been lost for all of these centuries. Personally, I think it was passed down from the god Dalan to all you humans so that you could understand what we animals were complaining about.”

  Oaka couldn’t believe this balnor. He shook his head. “I don’t think we should have him along with us.”

  “I’m delivering a very important message to King Sonnagh himself!” Fato preened. “Relaying it, to be precise, by memory. I’m very good at memorization. If you two are going towards Coe Kiki, I’ll come along. By royal rules, I’m not allowed to travel in flocks, but this probably doesn’t count. However, I feel compelled to warn you two that those wolves weren’t ordinary wolves. They were Black Wolves, Servants of Doomba.”

  “I told you they weren’t ordinary wolves!”