Chapter Five:
They stayed camped the next day, but Marie didn’t see much of the “others.” Rheidan stayed cooped up with Barnabas all day, and his men milled at the edge of camp, observing the expedition’s soldiers. Marie and the rest of the expedition members spent most of the day gossiping, since no one seemed to know what they were supposed to do, as Rheidan and his men didn’t seem keen on interacting with anybody else. Most of the gossip centered around the soldiers, with speculation running rampant on where they were from. Everyone was insatiably curious, and the rumors that soon sprang up were impressively absurd. A particularly popular rumor claimed that Rheidan had attempted to buy Pamela Holbech, though since the man was incapable of communicating more than very basic ideas, Marie wasn’t sure how anyone could believe it. She wrote it off as wishful thinking.
The next morning they headed off, Rheidan leading the way. He set a grueling pace. The group covered ground at least twice as fast as usual, and by lunch break Marie was soaked with sweat. When the horn blew for halt at the end of the day, Mabel slumped to the ground, groaning. She eyed Marie balefully. “I think I hate Rheidan.”
Marie snorted with laughter. “Poor Mabel,” she crooned. “Come on.” She stuck out her hand. “The faster we put up the tent, the sooner we can shower and go to sleep.”
It turned out, however, that Marie would not get the chance to go to sleep early that night. Barnabas summoned her to his tent shortly after dinner, and she went, hair drooping with water, to find him talking with Rheidan.
Barnabas smiled rather slyly when she entered. “Marie,” he said a little too enthusiastically, standing up and striding forward, “I thought you’d like to join us. Flex your ambassadorial muscle, so to speak.”
Marie gave him a horrified look. “Do me a favor? Never utter that phrase again.”
Barnabas just smirked. “I’ve been trying to explain our world to Rheidan, and I thought your input might help. Besides, I thought you would like to learn more about this world.”
Marie shot him a suspicious look, but Barnabas just smiled innocently. She turned back to Rheidan, who had watched their exchange with a puzzled expression on his face. He met her gaze and smiled. Her cheeks burned.
“I have no objection.”
The following days were exhausting. Rheidan kept the expedition going at the same strenuous pace, and he kept Marie up late at night attempting to teach her his language, which wasn’t going very well. The language’s pronunciation was impossible, its grammar was bizarre, and Barnabas snickered every time she messed up—which was often.
“You should be learning this too,” she hissed at him after the fifth night.
“But I am. I spend all day with him.”
“I feel like such an idiot all the time!”
Barnabas glanced at Rheidan out of the corner of his eye. “Oh, I doubt he thinks you’re an idiot. I’d say he’s quite fascinated with you.”
Marie narrowed her eyes. “Fascinated how?” she asked suspiciously. “What exactly are you trying to do?”
He smiled at her in a way that could only be described as grandfatherly. “Marie, you have some new vocabulary to learn.”
“Ugh!”
To Marie, it felt like it took forever to get any grasp of Rheidan’s language. It didn’t help that Rheidan seemed to find it funny every time she messed up a word.
“Glen-du,” he said slowly, pointing to one of the dragon-birds.
“Glen-dew,” Marie repeated.
He shook his head, smiling. “Glen-du.”
“Glen-dew.” No. “GLEN-DEW!”
He threw back his head and laughed, and Marie had enough. She glared at him. “Jerk,” she muttered, snapping around to stalk away. “Why don’t you—aah!”
She tripped, falling face-first on the ground. Rheidan laughed even harder. She pushed herself off the ground and glowered. Just because he happened to be incredibly handsome didn’t give him the right to laugh at her. He should try having to learn English! Fuming, she stalked away.
As they traveled, Marie noticed the terrain finally starting to change. The trees shrunk and grew further apart. The Morning Bloom became less obvious. The group started encountering flowers that bloomed at nighttime as well, beautiful things Rheidan told her were called Shashanas. Much to Marie’s displeasure, Joseph started placing bouquets of them on her bedroll each night. While it was a sweet gesture, it made Marie uncomfortable. Joseph just didn’t seem to notice she wasn’t attracted to him, and with the arrival of Rheidan, he had only become more dogged in pursuing her. Marie found herself going out of her way to avoid him, even if it meant spending more time in language lessons.
“What—land—name?” she asked Rheidan one night. This question had been bugging her for some time.
He gave her a quizzical look. “Barnabas did not tell you?” Rheidan never attempted to dumb down his speech for Marie, so she often had to listen closely and guess a few words’ meanings to understand what he was saying.
She shook her head.
Rheidan glanced at Barnabas surreptitiously. He lowered his voice. “This land is called Maretzia. It is ruled by His Excellency Emperor Sidriel the Clever, the Powerful, and the Magnificent. It was His Excellency who sent me here to intercept your group and bring it back to the capital.”
Marie absorbed this. She glanced back at Barnabas. He was thumbing through a report. She turned back to Rheidan, frowning. “When—you—tell this?”
“As soon as I could—many days ago.”
Marie lowered her eyes. Why had Barnabas kept silent? Sure, the man was busy, and he could have just forgotten, but it seemed like a big thing to forget. How much effort would it have taken him to say, ‘By the way, the people in this world are somewhat more advanced than hunter-gatherers, and they’ve formed an empire ruled over by a man named Sidriel’?
“He has told you nothing?” Rheidan murmured, arching an eyebrow.
“No.” Even though he had promised he would.
Rheidan glanced at Barnabas again, then leaned forward. “What do you wish to know?”
Marie met his gaze. “Everything.”
Marie was silent as she strode back to her tent. So this land was called Maretzia. It stretched from the Western Sea across the hill country to the eastern plains. It was the largest empire in this world, and it was ruled by an emperor named Sidriel. He had ruled for many years and was much beloved by his people. He had 10 royal councilors known as the Circle of Ten, who next to him were the most important men in the empire. Below them in importance were the rest of the nobles, who were all members of Sidriel’s Court. Marie tried to absorb it all.
But more importantly, she tried to absorb the fact that Barnabas had told her nothing.
Perhaps she was paranoid.—
Perhaps he had been busy.
Perhaps he had forgotten.
But perhaps he had just, for one reason or another, decided not to tell her. Marie’s mind spun. What would that mean? Why would he even do it? What could he gain? It didn’t make sense.
The tendril of unease in Marie’s stomach grew. She didn’t know. But she did know one thing: She was no longer certain she trusted Barnabas Morton.
They left the forest the next day. Marie heard excited shouting, and she snapped her head up to see a dazzle of brilliance up ahead. Sunlight streamed upon her so suddenly it was as if someone had doused her in a bucket of it. Marie felt a thrill of delight and closed her eyes, soaking in the warm rays. She hadn’t realized how much she had missed pure sunlight.
The group pooled out of the forest, for the first time since the trip began breaking the line they automatically formed. Not far away Marie saw Jennifer squealing with excitement, and Marie felt a smile break across her own face. Mabel, of course, wasted no time, and Marie winced when she saw Mabel ordering Joseph and all the other botanists to start collecting grass samples.
“Marie.”
She twisted around to see Rheidan smiling down at he
r. “Where are we?” she breathed, her eyes sparkling.
“We just left the Khalnihari Forest and are now in the Beaugati Plains.” He tilted his head. “You do not see it now, but over the curve of that hill, only about a three hour journey away, is the village of Brijatti. The Brijatti villagers were the first to alert His Excellency to your presence.”
“How?”
Rheidan turned his eyes to the plain. “Every few months a group of hunters from the village goes deep into the forest to hunt an animal called the Avaki. It was during this hunt that they came across your tracks. The hunt ended immediately. They sent a messenger to the palace saying an army of monsters had invaded.” The corner of his mouth twitched.
Marie smiled. “Only if you consider Darius and Pamela monsters.”
Rheidan snickered.
“Rheidan!”
Both Marie and Rheidan jumped.
Barnabas.
Rheidan scowled, but quickly straightened and assumed a neutral expression. “Yes, Barnabas?”
“Where are we?”
Marie smirked. Rheidan threw her an amused look and headed over to talk with Barnabas. As soon as he was out of sight, she twirled around, swinging her arms. The fact that Rheidan had come to her before he had gone to Barnabas shouldn’t have been so satisfying, but it was. She gazed around happily for a moment, and her eyes fell on Cristaña, who was smirking.
“What?”
Cristaña snorted.
They reached Brijatti by nightfall, but signs of it appeared far earlier. The grass grew taller and taller till it was above their heads, and in this forest of grass, Rheidan somehow found a beaten dirt path, barely wide enough for the rollers. Within minutes the grassy plain turned into organized fields, and Marie felt a rush of excitement. Here was proof they were nearing civilization!
The plants arched above them, the stalks as tall as trees, the fruits they produced hanging far above their heads. To Marie they looked like monstrous corn stalks, except the corn was eggplant purple instead of yellow and round instead of cylindrical. Beside Marie, Mabel bounced with excitement. She looked like she was barely restraining herself from collecting samples.
Within an hour they started passing people on the road. A boy of about seven peeked out from behind a plant stalk, his eyes growing huge as the rollers steamed by. Marie smiled at him, but he went ashen, ducking back into the fields. Marie’s smile slid off her face.
The village loomed out of nowhere within an hour, a simple conglomeration of mud and wood buildings. When they approached it, its inhabitants had already gathered around the edge of the road and were staring at them as they slowed to a stop. They stayed silent, staring at them with wide, frightened eyes. To the right Marie saw a young girl clutch her mother in terror. The sight distressed Marie, and she looked away when the mother glared at her. A few of the rollers whirled into the village, hissing menacingly, and several of the villagers shrank back and cried aloud.
“Meyan!” Rheidan’s voice rose loudly over the cries of the villagers, and they calmed somewhat. They looked to him entreatingly. Silence fell.
Rheidan revolved on the spot, holding his hands apart and above his head, as if worshipping. “Leikla nanu avaa…” he started soothingly, but Marie tuned him out as soon as she realized he was speaking a dialect she didn’t know. The only word Marie recognized in the entire speech was ‘Sidriel,’ and as soon as it was uttered, the villagers relaxed considerably, some even grinning.
Marie saw Pamela narrow her eyes.
When Rheidan at last finished speaking, he turned to Barnabas. “Pass this message to your people: Allow the villagers to take care of you tonight. They will feed you and offer as many as they can comfortable lodging.”
The word passed along the line, and Rheidan made a sign with his hands. The villagers surged forward as one, greeting the group with smiles and hugs and jabbering away excitedly.
They left the village early the next morning, long before the sun rose. Marie had stayed in a house that night with Cristaña and Pamela. It was the first time she had slept in a solid building since leaving Earth, and she had almost forgotten the comfort and security such sturdiness provided. Their hosts were an elderly couple living on the outskirts of the village, and though Marie didn’t understand a word they said, they managed to be gracious all the same. The elderly woman reminded Marie of her grandmother, so she went to bed feeling rather morose.
After the day in Brijatti, the rest of the days passed in a similar manner. The expedition traveled down well-worn roads, which day after day became increasingly crowded as Maretzians came from all over to watch them pass by, the news of their arrival having proliferated through the countryside. The towns they stayed in each night were crowded with visitors. In one such town, Rheidan procured a map in which he quickly outlined the route they were taking to the capital.
“We’re in the northeastern part of the empire,” he explained, tapping a spot on the map. “We’ll head southwest to the capital city, Melei-Argalla. The plains will turn into hills as we approach it. We won’t see any major rivers till we get to the capital, which rests on one of the tributaries of the Aegae-Mar—this river.” His finger traced a long thick line cutting through the center of the map. “It’s the most important river in Maretzia, and the trading city of Madalinda sits on its mouth—right here.” He tapped another spot.
Marie studied the map carefully. “So how long will it take to get to the capital?”
Rheidan shrugged. “It depends on how quickly we go and how the weather treats us. A few weeks, with a group this size. Theoretically, if a rider could ride without stopping, he could be there in a week.” He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “Emperor Sidriel actually has a system set up to take advantage of this fact. There are riders stationed all over the empire ready to take messages. They ride as hard as they can to the next station, where the message is passed on to another rider, who leaves immediately, allowing the first rider to recuperate. The emperor uses this system to pass orders to the military posts on the border.”
Marie thought it was a good idea, as long as the message was written. If passed along orally, some part of it might get lost in translation. She opened her mouth to say so, but Barnabas called Rheidan over again. She sighed as he strode off, her eyes following him before falling on the backpack of the person in front of her.
Sometimes the expedition marched past nightfall, and on one such day, Marie asked Rheidan about the stars.
“They’re so different from the ones we have at home,” she told him. “The stars at home are neither so bright nor so big.”
“Do you name them?” Rheidan asked. He stared at her intently.
Marie grinned. “Yes, but I was never able to really tell which star was which. We see shapes in the stars—we call them constellations—and we name them accordingly. Cancer, Capricorn, Aries, Gemini…We have legends associated with each constellation. The legends come from the Greeks, who were an ancient people in our world who thought the constellations were beings placed in the sky by the gods.” She glanced at him curiously. “Do you see pictures in your stars?”
“Yes.” He pointed up. “Right now, to the east, is Gariehor the Swordsmith, and next to him is the Lady of the Meadows. To the west”—He craned his head—“is Maliot, the Hunter, and Brisperiel, the Boy King. Later in the evening Joriere the Weaver will emerge.”
Marie followed his hand, but she couldn’t see the shapes he was talking about. Seeing her confused expression, he grinned. “You will learn eventually.”
She shook her head. “I doubt it. All the stars look the same to me.” She glanced up at the sky again. “And your moons? Do they have names as well?”
“Of course. The northern one is Inattia, and the southern one is her lover, Karadian.”
“Do they have a story?”
“Yes.”
Marie smiled at him. “Then you must tell it to me. You must tell me the stories of all your stars.”
&
nbsp; He arched an eyebrow. “Only if you tell me those Greek legends you mentioned.”
Her eyes grew wide with alarm. “Oh no,” she started, shaking her head vigorously. “I really don’t know them that well…”
But he prodded and teased her so much she eventually started telling him the story of Hercules and the crab Cancer, who was sent by Hera to stop the hero.
After that evening, the nights passed in a predictable manner, with Marie and Rheidan swapping stories. When Marie could no longer tell him any stories of the stars, she started on other stories—popular Greek myths, classic fairytales, even a few ghost stories. Rheidan regaled her with the Maretzian equivalents. When Rheidan told Marie the legend of Faallia and the One Hundred Lies, the story of Eliada the Beautiful, and the tale of The Kingdom Beneath the Hill, time passed far too quickly. In fact, Marie enjoyed their conversations so much she started to spend most of the daytime looking forward to nighttime.
“It’s strange,” murmured Dustin one day as they stopped for a meal. Marie glanced up at him, only half-paying attention. She had yet to decide which story she wanted to tell Rheidan that night. As it stood, she was torn between King Arthur and Robin Hood. Dustin glanced at the edge of the line, where a gaggle of young Maretzian boys stood ogling at them, and elaborated, “I would have thought the people would be so much more terrified of us, but practically every town throws a party as we pass through.”
“It’s this Sidriel,” said Raymond, stabbing his lasagna with his fork. “His name is like a spell around here. You hear what they call him? Emperor Sidriel the Clever, the Powerful, and the Magnificent. I’d like to meet this guy. He’s got everyone under his thumb.”
Jennifer glanced at Marie, her expression curious. “What does Rheidan say about him?”
“What do you mean?” Marie asked, a little too quickly.
Jennifer rolled her eyes. “Come on, Marie. You know what I mean. What does Rheidan say about the emperor?”
Marie fingered a blade of grass. The emperor didn’t exactly come up much in their conversations. “Not much, to be honest. When he does mention Sidriel, he’s respectful like everyone else. But I’ve never actually asked him about the emperor. And besides,” Marie added thoughtfully, “I doubt that even if I did ask him anything he would reveal anything new. With the hype surrounding this guy, I’d be willing to bet it’s illegal to say anything negative about him.”
Marie didn’t get the chance to test that theory. As the expedition traveled into areas with denser populations, Rheidan’s presence was constantly called for. In fact, Marie only exchanged one or two quick words with him in the following days, and she found she missed their conversations horribly. But Rheidan wasn’t the only one who left her alone. Barnabas suddenly didn’t seem to have time for her at all; it was as if he sensed her sudden distrust toward him and decided to waste no more time catering to her. She didn’t see him once.
But Marie soon found out Barnabas had other worries on his mind. While marching one day, she walked a little slower than usual and ended up close enough to the trying trio to overhear one of their hushed conversations.
“I’m telling you, it has to be a glitch in the computer program,” insisted Hamako. “The problems don’t make any sense otherwise!”
“It’s not a glitch!” hissed Bryce. “I designed the computer program myself! It’s practically fail-proof. Something else is wrong with it!”
“Then what?” demanded Jaime. “What else could be causing the problems?” She lowered her voice, and Marie had to strain her ears to hear her. “Right now it’s not causing too much of an issue, but if the problem with the device gets worse, we might start having difficulties communicating with Earth. This problem could get very bad, very quickly.”
“Let’s not get overdramatic,” interrupted Hamako. “We still have plenty of time to figure out the source of the problem and fix it. This will amount to nothing, I assure you.”
Marie had heard enough. She quickened her pace till she was abreast of Cristaña, her heart pounding, her stomach twisting. Her thoughts flitted around too quickly to make sense, and she had to force herself to calm down and consider the problem. So. The communication device was malfunctioning. Okay. Malfunctioning how? Was it having trouble turning on, staying on, or transmitting messages? Marie’s mind buzzed. Furthermore, why was Barnabas keeping this quiet? As she mulled it over, however, she understood. If the expedition members found out the device was having problems, they would react violently. For the protection of all, Barnabas had to keep this quiet. The machine was the key to returning home. If it broke, Marie could say goodbye to Earth.
When that realization hit her, Marie knew she should have been more upset—she should have been panicking—but right then, in this dazzling new world, with Rheidan’s attention, home seemed very far away. The thought of returning to Earth was bizarre. Besides, it wasn’t as though she had much waiting for her: Grandmother had so disapproved of her decision to come on the expedition that she had refused to talk to her once she had signed the contract, and Grandmother was the only family Marie had. Her eyes darkened a little at the thought, and that pang of hurt and betrayal she was sure would never go away swelled up again inside her.
Then she shook her head. It was no use dwelling on such things. She couldn’t change the past. She could only press on forward.
A day later Rheidan finally found the time to approach Marie. “Tonight we will be staying somewhere special,” he informed her.
“Oh?” said Marie. Her Maretzian had improved considerably in the past few days. “And where would that be?”
Rheidan smiled. “The manor house of Lord Daenlyn of Maretzia, one of His Excellency’s most trusted advisors. Tonight, for the first time in months, you will rest in luxury.”
And that was the most exciting thing Marie had heard since they had crossed into the plains.
Across Page 5