Opal Summerfield and The Battle of Fallmoon Gap

by Mark Caldwell Jones

  When Opal stirred, Eltheon erupted from her seat and grabbed her friend in a great bear hug. The pan clanked into the floor.

  Tirian and Luka were on the other side of her bed all smiles. Luka had brought his own gift: a bouquet of aster. Tirian had her favorite strawberry snakes clutched in his massive fist. The boys shuffled nervously.

  “You’re alive! Thank goodness,” Eltheon said desperately.

  Eltheon was crushing the air out of Opal.

  “Ellie, I’m so glad to see you too,” she squeaked back.

  “The snawfus brought you home! He leapt right into the center of the courtyard and we grabbed you. He even stayed for a bit, grazing around the Crystal Tree. It was like he was making sure you were okay. It was a complete miracle!” gushed Eltheon. “The whole city is talking about it.”

  “I’m in it deep, aren’t I?” asked Opal. She felt herself blushing, thinking of all the rules she had violated going off on her own.

  “Yeah, your in deep alright—deep debt to a certain someone who covered for you,” said Tirian.

  “I know it was stupid. Thanks Tirian, thanks for understanding,” she replied meekly.

  “Not me. Thank the Warden of Intelligence over here,” Tirian said. He hooked his thumb in Luka’s direction. Luka smiled back and handed Opal the flowers. He bent over and gave a delicate kiss on the cheek.

  “You?” Opal asked. She was pleasantly surprised.

  “Yeah, me!” he said.

  “Who better to cover an unauthorized scouting mission than the one who authorizes them,” chuckled Eltheon.

  The gang laughed together, but then Eltheon turned a bit vicious.“But you better never, ever, let me hear about this happening again. That was stupid! Stupid!” she reprimanded.

  “I know, I promise,” whimpered Opal.

  “Especially now that we know the conjurer has some of the Veilian creatures rigged to hunt you,” Tirian said.

  “So you talked to Professor Jack?”

  “Yeah, we are still studying how she managed it.”

  “She is too powerful now. We are in for a heck of a fight,” said Luka. “We have to get serious about finding her and anyone who is conspiring with her.”

  “I agree,” said Tirian firmly. “We have tested and retested our defenses. Everything looks solid on this end, but it’s always better to take the offense. We need to hit her before she hits us.”

  “First, let’s get you completely fixed up,” said Eltheon. She handed Opal a gemstone.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “Amethyst. You said you’ve been having trouble controlling your necklace. This is a prompt. Concentrate on it and it should help you. We need you patched up completely. While you’ve been recovering, we’ve been planning,” explained Eltheon.

  “Yeah, Warden, you’ve been assigned a real mission,” declared Tirian. He handed her the licorice.

  Luka gave her an affectionate pat on the knee and laid out the plan.“Back to your roots, Opal. We’re going to Liberty Creek.”

  83

  The night air was humid and a thick mist hung over the city of Fallmoon Gap. The Ranger emerged from a forgotten tunnel hidden behind a row of wild azaleas and ran up the stone steps of the cathedral. He was in a stolen hiding cloak and carried along a pair of shard pistols.

  He moved through the hallways like a ghost, until he reached a vault of crystals in what was called the People’s Archive.

  The wall at the back of the room was over fifteen feet high, and framed like a great shelf, but it was slotted with diagonal cedar slats, creating the appearance of an egg box you might find in a giant’s hen house. Instead of eggs, each slotted box contained crystals the size of a man’s fist. The light of the moon refracted throughout the display. The Ranger seemed to be standing in front of a wall of infant stars.

  He removed one of the stones. It was a cluster of rose quartz. It lay in his hand like a pink flower.

  In the center of the room was a glass pedestal that held a crystal bowl. A braided red rope with silver tassels hung above the bowl. He reached up and pulled the cord, which opened a round window of mirrored glass. The bowl filled with moonlight, as if an angel poured ambrosia into a divine chalice.

  The Ranger placed his crystal into the bowl and the liquid light swirled around it. The current spun into a funnel that rose out of the bowl and mushroomed into a brilliant cloud of moonglow.

  A face appeared. It was a woman in sacred robes. She smiled and her voice filled the quiet of the room. She talked about her life, her family, and her love for her community. She shared a vision that came to her in the night, a dream about the future of her daughter’s family. She reassured them that God would bless them, but warned that they should share their wealth.

  “Gratitude, my children,” she pleaded. “I ask that you replace greed with gratitude. If you do that, all the things you desire will be come to you and yours.”

  The old woman paused. Tears pooled on the edges of her eyes and she raised her hand and blew a kiss into the air.

  “This is what was revealed to me, and so I share it with you. Know that I will always be with you,” she said.

  The woman bowed her head and her image in the cloud of light swirled away. The funnel reversed its spin and refilled the bowl. The rose cluster dimmed. Satisfied that he could use the device, he deactivated the memory stone and returned it to the shelf.

  The Ranger scanned the wall for another box. He found one hidden in the highest corner of the shelf. The box was latched but had an inlaid keyhole. No other markings distinguished it, but he knew as soon as he touched its unique finish that it had been created especially for him, by her.

  His key fit and he opened the little chest to reveal three memory stones. They looked like crystal pinecones resting in a velvet-lined jewelry box. The Ranger felt adrenaline wash over him, causing a slight tremble in his hand. He was reluctant to pick one up.

  He knew what was stored in the stones would root up some of his deepest pain. He would also have to face his shame, the great failure of his life that seemed to flood the lives of innumerable people with tragedy. He closed the box and looked up through the slatted window at the moon.

  He thought about her and their short, happy life together. He was washed away in his own memory, as if viewing a century of memory stones in one grand illumination.

  “Those are fakes,” a voice said. “Simple replacement stones. The ones she made for you, I hid away.”

  The Ranger spun around and aimed a shard pistol at the intruder. Only a few people in the realm could sneak up on him like that. The voice walked out of the shadows and into the moonlight. It was Jakob Prismore.

  “That doesn’t surprise me one damn bit,” the Ranger growled. He cocked the hammer back. “Your greatest magic has always been your illusions, Prismore. You are nothing but a charlatan. I never understood why she insisted on following you.”

  “She believed,” Jakob said. “It is that simple.”

  “And you repay her by stealing. You continue to betray her, even in death. Take me to those memory stones now, or I will blow a hole in you so big, even your best witches won’t be able to mend you.”

  “As you wish,” Jakob said.

  Jakob formed an apportation tunnel. He stepped up to the edge of it.

  “It is good to have you back. We have been hunting you to no avail. The Ranger is quite an elusive ghost,” Jakob said.

  “You should have come yourself. That would have tickled me to no end.”

  “Perhaps. I had hoped, even though I knew it wasn’t true, that the great William Windfar, one of the most notorious criminals of Arcania, was dead. But it seems you have your own tricks, chief among them resurrection.”

  The Ranger pressed the cold steel against Jakob’s neck and shoved.

  “Shut up and move,” barked the Ranger.

  In a snap of Veil energy, the two were gone.

  84

  Opal pulled down her goggles, which she had l
oaned from Tirian. She dialed in increasing magnification until she was satisfied with the detail. At the base of Caulder Mountain, a town sat at the intersection of the White River and its north fork.

  In the river valley north of the town, almost hidden in the tall green grass, a Warden signaled them. It was Luka. Opal clicked one additional lens into place and could see him perfectly. He was smiling at Opal and tapping his ear with one hand.

  “He wants you to use the auricles,” said Tirian. “They’re snapped to your goggles.”

  Opal pulled up a copper headband so that the tiny turtle shell ear trumpets fell into place. She plugged she plugged the end of the tubes into position and could immediately hear Luka’s voice crackling over the crystal diaphragms. It was as if he was whispering over her shoulder.

  “Meet me by the main gate,” he said. She could see he was talking into a brass conversation tube pulled from a side pocket.

  “I’ve cleared it with the elders, but stick close to me—people are wary. Amina visited the elders sometime back and it didn’t go well. There were threats. Everyone is on edge.”

  When they finally met up, Opal was happy to see that Luka chose to ride beside her. As they headed to the gates, he explained how the people of Liberty Creek were superior hunters. They were expert gunsmiths and made their own special fifty-caliber field rifles.

  “They have a great respect for marksmen,” he said.

  Opal rolled her eyes. Great, why would he say that? He knows I’m no marksman, she fumed silently.

  Young men hovered like crows around the large town wall, guarding its gates. They worked levers and great gears, opening spaces in the wall to give their sniper crew better positions, and all these marksmen were aiming straight at the heads and hearts of the four visitors as they rode up the path to the main gate—that is until Luka waved them off.

  The gate swung open and Opal was surprised to find the town very similar to Grigg’s Landing. The homes and stores of the town were built using the same construction that most Ozarkers used. The men and women wore familiar looking clothing too, but with one distinct difference. One man walked by in a shirt so red that it would have put Devilhead, her rooster, to shame. Rich blues, yellows, greens the shade of honeysuckle leaves—it was an interesting revision to the drab dress of Grigg’s Landing.

  Another distinct thing: almost every man and woman seemed to be armed. The rifle was ubiquitous, and the beauty of each weapon was stunning. The stocks were carved in elaborate detail, and some were dyed with vermillion. In addition, they had silver adornments that set each rifle apart from the next.

  The people were more striking. The town was full of black people. Opal felt a tidal wave of recognition wash over her. She saw herself in some of the girls they passed as their horses trotted down the center of the town.

  Behind them a gang of children ran, laughing and screaming in joy. One girl, a very beautiful one, had brilliant blue eyes. Opal swelled with pride.

  “Look!” Opal said.

  “Look where?” Eltheon asked.

  “That girl there. She has eyes like me!”

  “Well, so she does. You make a pair of very lucky ladies,” said Eltheon. Eltheon winked at the child and rode to catch up with Luka and Tirian. Opal stopped for a moment.

  “Hey little one. Yeah, you. What is your name?” Opal called.

  The little girl was too embarrassed and just threw her face in her hands and giggled. All the other kids laughed and the whole bunch ran away like a gaggle of spooked geese.

  Opal laughed along with them all, but soon realized she was being left behind. She waved goodbye, turned her horse, and rode into the heart of her mother’s hometown.

  Opal walked into the shadows of a smoky room with Luka in the lead. It seemed like some great longhouse for ancient warriors, but in reality it was more of a saloon. It was called the Wolf’s Lair. Prize rifles and animal mounts lined the walls. Stairs on either side led to the upper floors.

  In the back, a long table was filled with older men playing dominos and smoking cigars. A younger man tended to the group, making drinks, refilling glasses of whiskey, and handing out bowls of food.

  The old men didn’t stop the lively ruckus, even as Opal’s group approached their table. Luka stood next to a man with a particularly long gray beard. He wore one of the brightest pumpkin-color shirts Opal had ever seen. Luka leaned down and talked into the old man’s ear. He inspected Opal and her friends and began clapping his hands to draw the attention of the other men.

  “Brothers! My friends! Brothers!” Rashid boomed. No one was really listening. He snatched a few dominoes from the man next to him. “Malik, you’re not going to win with that hand. Please brothers, we have some business.”

  “Business? Save it, friend,” Malik said.

  Another man with a great bush of hair, Kasim, eyed the officers. “Ah, you mean we have visitors and they have business. We are doing ours. So give these lovely women chairs by me, and put those young men to work,” he laughed.

  “Women you say? Well you know what happens if we stop for women—they won’t let us begin again,” said Bron. He was a squatty round man rubbing his bald head at the end of the table.

  All the men laughed in camaraderie.

  Rashid said, “Yes, very true, but let us show some respect. It is Luka, who y’all know well, who brings our guests.”

  Finally, the men relented and turned their chairs toward Opal’s group. Luka spoke for them. He explained that his crew was delivering an important message from Jakob Prismore. He asked if they would receive it. They all nodded in unanimous agreement. Luka activated the crystal disc. It spun furiously, hovering slightly above the table, until Jakob’s image erupted into the room. He bowed humbly to the group.

  “Respected Elders of Liberty Creek, as you have no doubt been informed from these Wardens, evil is on the prowl within the great realm of Arcania. We seek your help in standing against it. I send this message as a warning and as a plea for your cooperation. We respect your history, and we know the losses you have endured, especially during The Battle of Fallmoon Gap.

  “By grace, we’ve had many years of peace, but darker clouds are now gathering. To that point, just this day, I’ve discovered evidence that leads me to believe there is someone within your midst conspiring with the conjurer Amina Madewell. This traitor is helping prepare her for her next attack.

  “Will you stand, as you have before, against the evil that threatens our realm and the whole of the Veil? Will you help us in our investigations? Confer with my representatives. They have brought equipment, defenses, and their own skills to help you. I will await your decision. May all that is good bless and keep you,” said Jakob Prismore.

  As Jakob concluded, he bowed his head goodbye. His image disappeared and the disc shutdown. The men erupted into a flurry of conversation. They were not happy with this news.

  Opal was stunned to hear that a spy might be in their very presence. She began scanning the group more intently.

  “Does he accuse one of us?” objected Bron. “That is outrageous! I trust every man in this room with my life!”

  “What does he know that we don’t?” chided Malik.

  Kasim slammed his fist into the table and grumbled. “I don’t like that man, brothers. His words are respectful but very calculated. We all know he does not intend to do anything to help us in return. Everyday this pocket of the Veil collapses a bit more. We grow closer to the time when we may have to abandon our home.”

  Bale, who seemed to be the oldest of the men, leaned back in his chair and lit his pipe. The pungent smoke filtered through the room. He questioned Luka. “I’m sure the great Protectorate didn’t come all this way without a name to give us?”

  Luka seemed uncomfortable. He responded with a clenched jaw. “It’s not our policy to release information before we are certain.”

  “It reminds me of those dark days leading up to The Battle of Fallmoon Gap. We were told what was useful, not what
was true. Our loyalty cost us dearly,” countered Bale.

  “Sir, we are here to help,” Eltheon pleaded.

  “Yes, y’all are earnest young Wardens, but, unfortunately, naïve.” Bale replied. “Prismore believes the Veil can be managed, that its powers and its dangers can be contained. There is nothing magical that can stop Amina if she is hell bent on attacking. She was always insatiable. Give the devil her due.”

  Luka’s mood and tone changed. He stood up. “With respect, father, you talk like you support her? Please don’t let your disapproval of me color how you feel about helping the Protectorate.”

  Opal, Eltheon, and Tirian looked back and forth at each other. This was a shock. Luka had said nothing about Bale being his father. Bale became more animated. He balanced his words on the edge of his anger. His eyes narrowed at Luka and continued.

  “We all stand apart from that witch!” he declared. “Her wereboars killed your mother, and if were not for Sanura’s sacrifice, you would be dead as well. But our ways are not the ways of Prismore or that conjurer.

  “No homestead, no town, is worth giving up your dignity, your freedom, or your life. Sometimes you pay a heavy price to live in peace.

  “Amina’s war is just an excuse to grab power. She thinks if she can control Fallmoon Gap, she can control everything. Maybe in some twisted up way she wants to save Liberty Creek from the rifts. But, it would be better for us to move on and find a new home elsewhere, than side with her. We will not stoke that fire.”

  “People in power should not just stand by—they should act,” Luka seethed.

  “What do you know of these things? Do you know the strength it takes to stand down when you are enticed into battle? Perhaps if you had stayed in Liberty Creek as I asked you would recognize the hard-earned wisdom of the men that sit before you,” Bale replied.

  “If this is my lesson, I see I haven’t missed a thing,” Luka said.

  Opal wanted to stuff Luka’s words back in his brazen mouth. Is this how I come across to people? she wondered. Not good.

  The whole room was suspended in a thick soup of tension. Malik finally broke the silence.