The Acryptus Tree

by Rucker Highworthy

  “And just about done from the looks of things,” Arbus declared. “Here he comes.” A man approached them. Like everyone else in the camp, his hands were stained from the tips of his fingers down to the wrist with berry juice. He wore a flashy salmon-colored vest over a well pressed white shirt. His hair matched the sandy color of his slacks, which fell down just below the knee where they met the tops of his boots. His chin was rich with stubble and his jaw was firmly locked. Adelaide could clearly see the appeal many might have seeing a man like him striding along a well lit stage.

  “Good evening to you all,” he began. His voice could calm a tempest. “Please know that you have our deepest condolences for the loss you have sustained. We the RHA are at your service.” He turned his focus entirely on Adelaide and smiled.

  “S ince the day I found this mark on my person, Miss Stokes,” he began. “I have learned to appreciate the courage and skill one acquires when facing a Tibris Guard. It is an honor and a privilege to meet you.”

  “You as well, Mr. Ware,” Adelaide replied. Her voice had become oddly cold since she had seen Cherry’s body. “Sir,” Clayton said. “We have lost two companions whom we care for very much. They need a proper burial.” Mason nodded respectfully. “You have my word, Mr. Hogg, they will have it. In the meantime, you and your friends will be fed and rested. Once we have laid your comrades to rest, I shall personally secure you safe passage wherever you choose to go. It goes without saying, of course, should you decide to, you and your companions are welcome to stay. I cannot promise you luxury, but you will be amongst friends.”

  “Oh yes, you have to stay!” Mimi exclaimed.

  “I fear we cannot,” Clayton stated. “I have business with our Lord Tiberion. It is by his order we are all being hunted.” “This has been known to us for quite some time,” Mason replied. “We’ve considered sending spies to Reignfall in search of answers, but I fear to permit anyone passage that far north. Whatever dangers reside in these parts are only multiplied once you enter those gates.”

  “So why not go together?” Adelaide asked. All eyes turned to her. “I mean really, why not? With mighty numbers, your army here could march on Reignfall and demand an audience with Tibris Tiberion. You could end this once and for all.”

  Mason pondered her statement briefly before extending his hand out towards the camp around them. “We may look ferocious in counting, Miss Stokes, but I can assure you the RHA is in no fit manner to be knocking down the gates of our provincial city. What roots and berries we can muster here in the Obrillo, combined with the meager rations supplied by allies outside the forest grow smaller every week. The Tibris Guards are cracking down more now than ever. Before Havendale, they had never openly attacked a whole village before. They seem to be in a hurry now, struggling to meet an important deadline. For the time being, we can stay here and endure. The time for greater action will arrive soon, I can assure you. Now feel free to rest, fill your stomachs, and quench any lingering thirst. We will lay your companions underground at sunset.”

  An hour passed by as afternoon turned to evening. Clayton spent the time learning more about the camp from Mason. Adelaide managed to pick up several battle maneuvers from Taz, including several defensive stances that could easily save her life in a tight skirmish. Finn chose to stand guard over Raoul’s body, as if leaving it unprotected would result in its immediate theft. It wasn’t until a quick call from Clayton that they all converged together beside a nearby tent.

  “Mason has made all the arrangements,” Clayton informed them. “The ceremony is starting. The whole camp has gathered at their burial ground.”

  The place in question was a nearby meadow. Countless friends and loved ones bearing the Acryptus Tree were spread out honorably across the flowery landscape. Two fresh plots sat side by side, awaiting their patrons. As the sun began to set behind the forest trees and the sky turned a pinkish hue, the RHA collected around the open graves humming bits of solemn tunes and noble melodies.

  The remains of Raoul and Cherry were carried on homemade stretchers, each by eight Red Hands wearing scarlet hoods. Adelaide, Clayton, and Finn walked directly behind them, with Mimi, Arbus, and Hagan following close behind. The bodies were gently placed and buried, after which Mason stepped forward and cleared his throat.

  “You know,” he loudly spoke. “ I never had the pleasure of meeting Raoul King Jr of Havendale, or Cherry Atherton of Pinewood. From what I’ve been told by friends and companions, to know them would have been an unparalleled privilege. I know we all here feel their end and wish them swift, unheeded passage to the serenity of Sorra’s bosom.”

  The crowd nodded. As one, they each placed their juicestained hands in front of their faces, positioning their palms facing outward. Mimi quietly explained that this was a sign of respect in the RHA to a fallen comrade.

  “I can’t believe they’re really gone,” Taz whispered. Her face was still flushed and salty with unchecked tears. It was strange for the group to see her so vulnerable. Clayton placed her head onto his shoulder, running the tips of his fingers along her hair and whispering comforting words into her ear.

  “They were lucky,” Adelaide muttered.

  Finn cocked his head curiously while Clayton shot her a skeptical look. “What?” she continued, so loudly that several Red Hands turned their attention towards her. “They were. We’re the ones still stuck here, on the run without a rotting clue as to why or what to do about it. How many more of us do you think need to die before this is over? How many of these people? We tried to take the safest route to Reignfall and look where that got us? Raoul and Cherry are dead. If we don’t take a stand and show the whole of Amber what we can do, we won’t complete this mission. We simply can’t.”

  “What exactly did you have in mind?” asked Clayton. Adelaide’s eyes grew large and passionate as she pondered his question. It was time to change their strategy. She could somehow see that now, more clearly than ever.

  “We should attack,” she finally declared with a hint of giddiness. “Yes…yes we should.” “Attack the Tibris Guards?” Finn whispered, taken aback. “Alexis, are you winked? You want to just take them head on right here in the Obrillo?”

  “We aren’t just a handful of Red Hands anymore,” she replied. “Now we’re an army.”

  “Adelaide, look at them,” Clayton hissed, glancing about. “The RHA isn’t ready to engage in great conflict.” “They aren’t ready?” she growled. More than a dozen Red Hands had gathered around them. “Clayton, when Huglund came to Havendale, how many of us had ever fought Tibris Guards or vile animals? When faced with death, people can do almost anything. I think we can take down Huglund’s forces here and now and leave him waned. That, alone, should inspire anyone else out there trying to survive. Can’t you understand that?”

  Before he could respond, Adelaide brushed past him, acknowledging the closing of Mason’s speech. It was time for someone from the group to say a few words. Her eyes shifted sharply from one Red Hand to the next, finally resting on Clayton. He shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the next as her gaze burned through him. It was obvious to her what had to be said. Now was the time to show Huglund that the Red Hands would no longer be afraid of him. Armed, fed, and unified, they could unleash a scourge of retribution that would have Tibris Tiberion leaking himself by the time they reached Reignfall. She smiled as she imagined the words flowing from her lips to the sounds of hearty applause. Something of that magnitude could crush her previous work, like a grape under a boot heel. She allowed her smile to fade, slowly, away as it dawned on her that it wasn’t her place to say anything. She wasn’t their leader. She cast Clayton one final look of disappointment before turning away.

  “Clayton,” Mason sighed. “Anything you wish to say?” Clayton looked at his companions, his eyes dark with conflict. Clearing his throat, he took a step forward. “I can only imagine,” he said, “how many brave friends, family and comrades you all have lost. For ten years, whether in secret, or op
enly without regard, the lord of Amber, Tibris Tiberion, has destroyed countless lives through unsanctioned execution and unjustified propaganda.”

  Murmuring grew amongst the crowd. “Why is it happening? What does it mean? Apart from a rotting tree stamped on our persons, what other clues have we found?”

  Heads started shaking.

  “I thought so. For all our suffering and investigation, nothing can be truly yielded without finding the source.”

  “Jonah Longstreet!” several viewers exclaimed. “He is the source.” “No!” Clayton yelled. “Though his part in this has yet to be truly revealed, it is not the inkman we seek. We must confront the person who labeled us all Red Hand rotters without right or representation. I will not lie down until this man’s forces trample me into dust. You all know of whom I speak. He is a wink, a dip, and a political incompetent. He sits in Reignfall shouting orders that are carried out without question, no matter how much suffering is caused. It is by his hand that our lives will be forever altered and only by his hand that we can be at peace again. We must speak to Tibris Tiberion! And we must speak to him now!”

  “Here here,” Adelaide cried out. Finn nodded assertively and Taz struck the ground repeatedly with the butt of her spear. Clayton thrust out his hand and pointed towards the direction of the falls. “Just out there are Huglund and his lot. They will find a way across the water and attack this camp. What can you do about it?”

  “ We can run!” a voice cried out. “We can hide!”

  “You can stand,” Taz replied boldly.

  “Before we can march on Reignfall and demand some answers,” continued Clayton. “We must deal with the immediate threat. I know you are all scared, I mean rot, so am I. Sorra and Necrya are calling our names, and who knows which one will be there when the sun falls from the sky, but I would rather die here for something than spend the rest of my life living for nothing. What about you?”

  The entire forest seemed still. Not a bird, bee, or woodland creature stirred as the RHA and company stood before Clayton. It was Sevigne who at last spoke, signing a message as she turned slowly around in a circle.

  “What, um…”Clayton began nervously. “What did she say?” Mason placed his hand on his shoulder and smiled. “She said you took the words right out of her mouth. We will deal with Huglund and his men. After that, I believe a trip to Reignfall has been about ten years overdue.”

  Clayton smiled. As he did so, a loud call echoed from across the camp. Everyone turned to witness a trip of Red Hands making their way towards them. One was Tripper Wetherby, a woolen scarf around his neck and a double-edged battleaxe in his hands. Beside him strode Dakota Browning, holding a glistening scythe, and sporting a ruby red beret that complimented her pearly white blouse and polka dot skirt. The third figure was a man in his late fifties with streaks of white running throughout his wild, grey hair. A long range Hammerstahl rifle hung strapped to his back. A slender elkhound ran next to him, his tongue lolling out of his mouth in spirited but labored pants.

  Mason laughed and turned to Clayton. “ I believe you already know Tripper and Dakota of Havendale. May I then introduce to you, Rade Sorenson, the finest tracker in all of Amber. This, of course,” he pointed to the dog, “is Leto, his loyal companion.”

  Leto licked Clayton’s hand as he gently ruffled his fur. “Rade, our new friends here have proposed we launch an offensive against Tiberion,” Mason informed him. “ Well,” the grey haired man stated. “They’ll have their chance soon enough. Huglund and a whole army of them are slowly making their way across the falls.”

  “There’s been more showing up every hour,” Tripper threw in, removing himself from Mimi’s overpowering embraces. “I had to count like a few times, but I like reckon somewhere around like two hundred and fifty of them,” Dakota finished proudly. Adelaide couldn’t ignore her overuse of prepositions.

  “With those odds, w e still outnumber the rotters two to one!” Arbus exclaimed. “We have the means to set up a glorious trap for them as well.”

  Hagan snorted something unintelligible and nodded assertively. “They’ll be expecting you to run, Mason,” said Clayton. “If you stay, we’ll stand with you. I even know a way to pierce their armor.”

  “How is that possible?” Rade asked. “A trick taught to us by an old friend. The bullets in your Hammerstahls can be enhanced to cut through the scales, so long as you can get your hands on some Firetongue venom. I don’t suppose you have any around?”

  Sevigne signed something to Arbus, who nodded with a smile.

  “I’m sure we can scrounge up a few jars of it,” he informed Clayton.

  “Excellent! So what do you say, Mason? Will this be the time for the RHA to avenge their fallen?” All eyes turned to the Red Hand King. Adelaide knotted her hands, painfully awaiting his decision. It wasn’t until Sevigne walked over and placed her head on his shoulder that he smiled and spoke.

  “If the Tibris Guards are crossing the falls, they will either walk the length of the river to find a dry crossing, or build a makeshift bridge. Either way, I imagine they won’t be across until early tomorrow morning. So tomorrow, we take Huglund on. After that, I vouch my services and sword with any who follows me to help you reach Reignfall. Consider the RHA fully behind you and your friends, Clayton Hogg. Now, tell us about this trick of yours concerning Firetongue venom and enhancing our weaponry.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  The next day, Huglund and the Tibris Guards found the camp completely deserted. Only a few dirty plates and abandoned tents remained.

  “They are trying to escape,” murmured Ptolemi as he examined some nearby footprints. “Perhaps they are,” replied Huglund. “These tracks are still fresh. They cannot be more than a mile or so away.” With that, he reached into his saddlebag and pulled out a lorb. The red light flickered briefly before disappearing entirely.

  “Just out of reach, Captain,” Ptolemi said. “They are quite clever.” “I do not suspect thes e Red Hands planned on being clever. Blind fortune, no matter how short lived. It will be over soon enough.”

  “What are y our orders?”

  “Ride on. They will be close.”

  Suddenly, a small rock flew out of the bleak fog just ahead and struck his armor, bouncing harmlessly off his chest. Another soon followed it and hit the snout of Ptolemi’s horse. Loud cursing arose up ahead as unseen figures proceeded to bombard the Tibris Guards with rocks and debris, all the while berating them with verbal ridicule.

  “Captain,” Ptolemi said, his mouth curving into an amused

  grin. “However will you quell this dangerous rabble? “Ptolemi,” Huglund murmured, his hands sliding gently down towards his sword. “I neither respect you as a soldier, nor consider you a true Tibris Guard. As for Kobal, he was the best of both. Do you believe I enjoyed ending his life this morning? Do you think I wanted to snap his neck when we found him, crawling around on the riverbank, blind in both eyes? He had his purpose taken from him. I did what had to be done. If you believe I would spare your life when I so easily took his, you have not an ounce of brain in your head. Now let us go find our Red Hand friends and end this nonsense once and for all.”

  Ptolemi nodded and signaled for The Tibris Guards to draw their swords. Huglund dodged a jagged throwing stone and grit his teeth.

  “Charge!” he exclaimed. The riders urged their horses onward. Within seconds, they were moving at full gallop. Just up ahead, a dozen hooded Red Hands cast their final stones and fled. Huglund pointed towards them as he bound over a grassy knoll revealed their quarry. Each Red Hand seemed fit and fleet on foot, but it wouldn’t be long before they were overtaken. As they all rushed deeper into the woods, it seemed their retreat would be short lived.

  Suddenly, from above, there sounded a loud bang. A Tibris Guard toppled back from his horse and plummeted to the ground, blue smoke emitting from his chest. A second bang commenced, and then a third, followed by a series of falling lorbs, which shattered on impact, causing brigh
t flashes that knocked nearby Guards to the ground.

  “They’re in the trees!” Ptolemi yelled. He ducked as a hurled lorb barely missed his head. “They have found a way to pierce our armor!”

  Whoops and victorious calls emerged from the branches above, signaling over fifty Red Hands strategically perched for optimum accuracy. Multiple Tibris Guards fell off their mounts as they drove deeper and deeper into the forest, meeting aerial opposition with every leap. Armed with only swords and daggers, there was little they could do to defend themselves. Huglund successfully cast a blade with expert precision into the heart of a visible Red Hand, killing him instantly, but all the riders could do was continue the chase, even amidst the rain of dangerous objects above. Any who dismounted and tried climbing the trees were swiftly disposed. At last, the twelve grounded Red Hands seemed to be slowing down, due it seemed likely to unmanageable exhaustion.

  “Hurry,” Huglund yelled. “Now we have them!” The words were barely out of his mouth before the smell of kerosene reached his nostrils. He had only a second to comprehend its meaning before the horse beneath him exploded in a burst of smoke and fiery ash. The Tibris Guard officer flew several yards down a steep decline before striking his head against a tree stump. He turned to watch as one by one his fellow riders hit the Flammeau-11, obviously rigged along an impromptu tree line with makeshift equipment and handcrafted mechanisms. The horses vanished into thin air amidst the smell of burnt meat and singed fur. Their riders joined Huglund on the ground as they were roughly flung into the air, landing roughly onto decaying logs, sharp, protruding branches, and jagged boulders. Many backs were broken, necks were snapped, and heads were bashed as, one by one, each Tibris Guard plummeted to the ground. Only a few riders managed to stop their beasts in time, staring down at their companions sitting awkwardly around the forest floor.

  A loud battle cry erupted from just beyond the rising morning mist. Huglund leapt to his feet and strained his eyes as the RHA tore into sight, wildly waving their weapons and bellowing bloodthirsty battle cries at the top of their lungs.