Twenty-five
arcus quickly made his way toward the back of the inn, where the alley crossed a narrow residential road. Noams pulled their handcarts laden with fruit, corn, and other goods, not bothering even to look up at the tall stranger. Marcus took a moment to catch his breath.
Xerxes clicked his beak. “Do you really think you can hide from those men? You’re like a giant here!”
“I don’t intend to hide!” snapped Marcus. The tension of the day’s events was wearing on him. Suddenly a hand fell on his shoulder. He quickly turned and drew back, ready for a fight.
It was Kelvin. “I was in the dining hall when I saw you run out the back way. When Arik came in, I knew you were in trouble.”
Seeing Kelvin’s face was like a balm to Marcus’s frayed nerves, but he was still angry about their scuffle. “Have you come to say good-bye?” asked Marcus sarcastically.
“I’m coming with you,” answered Kelvin, patting the skin parcel tucked beneath his arm. There was no time for apologies now. Marcus glanced back toward the road. All they had to do was cross it and head out beyond the crags. The high boulders would make traveling more difficult, but they would also block them from Arik’s view until they were a safe distance from Noam.
“We had better go before Arik’s men decide to search the alley,” said Kelvin.
“Too late!” Marcus cried.
Behind them two Mardoks shouted and began running toward them. Kelvin grabbed Marcus’s arm and dragged him across the street toward the hills. Just as they reached the other side, the Mardoks emerged from the alley. Kelvin dove behind a grassy knoll and pulled Marcus down beside him.
“What are you doing?” hissed Marcus. “We can’t stay here! They’ll kill us!”
“Not today,” said Kelvin, unwrapping the parcel to reveal a worn but sturdy crossbow and a dozen arrows. “I thought we might be needing these.”
“Clovis’s bow!” said Marcus.
Kelvin ran his hand admiringly down the length of the stock. “I’d trade my dagger for this any day.”
“You can’t take Clovis’s only weapon!” snapped Marcus. “His father would kill him for losing it. Take it back and find something else!”
“There isn’t time!”
In a single swift movement Kelvin got to his knees, lined an arrow in his sight, and let it fly. It pierced the first Mardok at the hip, crippling it with pain. Kelvin reached for another arrow, but the second Mardok jumped atop the knoll, bared his teeth, and growled. Kelvin held the bow at waist level and released the string. The arrow entered the creature’s stomach and continued out its back, lodging itself in a passing wagon. The injured creature howled in agony and collapsed in a limp heap, dead.
Marcus nodded furiously. “All right. We’ll just borrow it for awhile. Clovis will understand—I hope.”
Kelvin grabbed Marcus and shoved him back toward the road. The wagoneer had stopped to investigate the arrow sticking out of his wagon.
“Get in!” shouted Kelvin. Marcus obeyed, heaving himself into the wagon bed just as Kelvin snatched up the reins.
“Hey! Wait!” the wagoneer called out, but Kelvin ignored the man’s pleas. This was no time for manners.
“Uhta! Uhta!” Kelvin shouted. The horses lurched forward, nearly throwing Marcus out onto the road, but he managed to pull himself in and huddled beside a pile of animal skins as the wagon gathered speed.
He glanced over the side of the wagon just in time to see Arik run into the middle of the road. Marcus thought surely he would pursue them, but Arik just stood there watching them with hate-filled eyes. Marcus met his gaze. Neither he nor Arik looked away until they had long disappeared from each others’ sights.
Twenty-six
rik did not waste any time after watching his prize disappear in a stolen wagon. He turned on his heels and marched through the alley back into the inn. He announced his presence by grabbing Clovis by the hair and pulling him to his feet.
“Your friends have deserted you!” he shouted, not even attempting to hide his scorn. “They have gone to warn my enemy, but that is of no concern to me now.” He threw Clovis toward the corner of the room, where the boy landed on his knees, whimpering in fear. His nosebleed had slowed to a trickle by now.
Tristan hurried to Clovis’s side. He untied his scarf and pinched Clovis’s nose with it. “What do you want from us?” he demanded of Arik. “We don’t know where they’ve gone!”
At the table, a Mardok grabbed Zody by the arm. The beast’s massive fingers easily encircled the boy’s slender limb. Though Zody struggled to free himself, he was no match for the Mardok’s strength.
Arik raised the tip of his sword and tucked it just beneath Zody’s chin. “I already know where they are going,” he said. “The objective now is to get there before they do. And if I fail. . .” Arik quickly withdrew his blade, leaving a thin, shallow cut on Zody’s chin. Zody cried out in pain.
“If I fail,” continued Arik, “I shall have you to use as—shall we say—collateral?”
“Stop!” Jerrid Zwelger pushed his way through the Mardoks toward Zody and examined his wound. “Why did you do this?” he asked angrily. “You said if I gave you Marcus, you would leave the rest of us alone.”
“Did I?” Arik raised an incredulous eyebrow.
Zody, blood trickling down his throat, looked at Jerrid with an expression of disbelief. “You betrayed Marcus?” he asked.
“It was for our own good,” explained Jerrid. “Marcus lied to us. He knows the truth about Jayson—that Jayson is responsible for Ivanore’s disappearance.”
Behind them Arik shouted, “Bind them!” The Mardoks obeyed, tying all four boys’ hands with ropes.
Jerrid turned his gaze from one boy to the next but was met with lowered eyes. “Jayson is a criminal, don’t you see that?!”
Clovis sniffed. “He saved Kelvin’s life.”
“What do you know, brain-boy? I gave them Marcus to ensure our safety!”
“Maybe Jerrid’s right,” said Zody, wincing from his wounded chin. “The half-breed might be dangerous, and Marcus—”
“Why do you always side with Jerrid?” said Tristan, turning on Zody with an angry glare. “He treats you worse than a servant and yet you defend him. Jerrid betrayed Marcus because he wanted him out of the way and out of the quest. Why should he share his victory with an orphan?”
The Mardoks dragged Jerrid and the other boys through the square to where freshly saddled horses waited. One Mardok, its hip injured by Kelvin’s arrow, limped across the square, joining the others.
On finding Bryn missing, Arik’s anger swelled. “Which one of you was guarding the creature?” he shouted.
The injured Mardok stepped forward and knelt before Arik. Arik lifted his sword and in one swift motion plunged it through the Mardok’s chest. The Mardok crumpled silently at his feet. Arik and the remaining four Mardoks mounted their horses, a captive boy secured with ropes to the back of each Mardok’s saddle.
“We must hurry!” Arik called out. The horses stomped their hooves in the dust. “To Dokur!”
Then, like a crash of thunder, his horse bolted forward with the Mardoks’ horses in close pursuit.
Twenty-seven
everal miles outside of Noam the wagon settled into a steady pace, with Kelvin seated on the bench and Marcus in the back. Marcus thought of Tristan, Clovis, and Zody and felt a pang of guilt for having left them behind. He hoped they would not hold it against him, but even if they did, things were better this way, for the less they knew of the truth, the safer they would be from the likes of Arik and his brutal Mardoks. As for Jerrid, Marcus could only hope he’d come to his senses. Once he knew the truth about Jayson, surely Jerrid would regret his betrayal and make amends.
To the south of the road on which Marcus and Kelvin now traveled was a thick grove of trees. Ahead of them the sun was setting beyond a flat horizon of green pastures and deep brown earth. Marcus had never before seen the sun descend beyon
d anything other than the Jeweled Mountains, and he was awed by its splendor.
After some time had passed, he called up to Kelvin. “Do you think we’ve separated ourselves enough from Arik? Maybe we should camp in those trees. We could light a fire, trap a little supper.”
Kelvin held the reins tightly in his hands. “Arik might approach us by night,” he said. “We will have to find a place out of sight to camp.”
“But there’s almost no shelter out here. How can we hide the wagon and the horses?” asked Marcus.
“We’ll have to send them back to the village. They’re not ours to keep, anyway. And Dokur can’t be more than two or three days’ walk from here. We can conceal our tracks better on foot.”
They continued on for half an hour more until they reached a bend in the road where it followed the curve of a small stream. Farther north, the stream wound through tall bulrushes and into a grove of willow trees.
“We’ll camp here,” said Kelvin. He stepped down from the wagon and helped Marcus out as well. Then, taking the horses’ reins, he guided them around until they were facing back toward Noam. “All right, I hope you girls know the way home.”
Suddenly there was a shriek, and the pile of blankets in the wagon bed flew about in every direction. A young boy with tousled hair jumped out of the wagon with a squeal, as though someone had lit his feet on fire.
“Bryn!” shouted Marcus, trying to regain his composure from the fright. “Bryn, what are you doing here?”
Bryn appeared to be just as frightened as Marcus and Kelvin. He gasped for breath. “Don’t send me back!” he pleaded. “I was hiding in the wagon when you seized it and rode it out of town like madmen! I didn’t mind that, of course, since getting as far away from those Mardoks as possible sounded like a good plan to me. But now that you’re sending the horses back—”
Kelvin quickly readied his bow and leveled an arrow between Bryn’s eyes. “You aren’t wanted here,” he said. “Marcus, get behind me!”
Marcus hesitated.
Kelvin held his aim. Bryn quivered in fear.
“What’s wrong with you, Marcus?” Kelvin shouted angrily. “I said get behind me! This monster nearly had me for breakfast yesterday!”
“Please, have mercy!” cried Bryn. “I won’t eat you! I swear it!”
“You’re a liar!”
“No, it’s true! You—” Bryn said, taking a step toward Marcus. Marcus backed away. “Tell him I won’t harm you. I owe you my life.”
“What is it talking about?” asked Kelvin.
“I helped him escape from Arik,” answered Marcus, feeling sheepish.
Kelvin turned on Marcus now but kept his arrow pointed at Bryn.
“You helped it escape?”
“Arik was going to kill him, Kelvin. What else could I do?”
“You could have killed it yourself! That’s what I would have done, and it would have been better than it deserved.”
The horses whinnied impatiently. Marcus reached up and stroked one of them. He had to admit Kelvin was right. When he had let the Groc go free, he thought he was doing the right thing. But now he wondered if, by doing so, he had put both himself and Kelvin in more danger.
Marcus looked at Bryn and saw the desperation and fear in his eyes. He recalled how quickly Bryn had run from Jayson in the canyon and how helpless he had seemed with Arik. Could it be that he was not such a monster after all?
“I think we should let Bryn come with us,” said Marcus.
Kelvin gawked at Marcus as though in shock. “What?”
Marcus continued, justifying his statement before doubt set in. “He won’t hurt us, but we’ll be on our guard in case he tries. Besides, he could be useful to us.”
“That’s right,” Bryn agreed eagerly, his eyes lighting up with childlike enthusiasm. “Let me live, and I’ll protect you in your travels. I can be quite scary. Really!”
Marcus waited for some reaction from Kelvin, but Kelvin only tightened his jaw and remained silent. Marcus turned to Bryn. “Why don’t you go gather some wood for a fire? We’ll catch some fish for supper.”
Bryn nodded, but before he left, he flung his arms around Marcus’s waist and hugged him. Then he scampered into the trees like the little boy he was at that moment.
“I don’t like this,” Kelvin told Marcus once Bryn had gone. “How can you be sure that thing won’t kill us both when our backs are turned?”
“Like he said,” said Marcus, “he owes me his life.”
“You seem awfully sure of his loyalty,” replied Kelvin, finally lowering his bow. “I wish I could be as certain of yours.”
Twenty-eight
arcus laid out the wood Bryn had gathered in a small clearing in the trees. As he reached into his satchel for the key, Xerxes spoke up. “It is time for another lesson,” he said. “Ready your key. You will try your hand at fire.”
“I tried that before and failed,” said Marcus quietly so Bryn and Kelvin would not hear him.
“Remember the snake! That surge of flame was no accident. Nor was the fire you created to ward off the Groc. You were frightened then; your emotions were strong. Perhaps your emotions affect the magic.”
Marcus examined the key just as he had dozens of times over the past two days. Could Xerxes be right?
Marcus stood at what he hoped was a safe distance from the fire. He held up the key. It felt cold in his hand. He began to feel discouraged but chased the feeling away. I’ve got to think of something that will create a strong emotion, he thought, but not too strong.
Marcus closed his eyes and tried to remember the day when he was a small boy and he had asked his master why he didn’t have a mother and a father. “All the other boys have parents,” he had said, his childish face full of expectation. “Why am I different?”
Zyll was younger then but still old in the eyes of a child. He turned away from Marcus and churned the embers in his fireplace with an iron poker. Marcus wondered if he had heard him at all and was about to repeat his question when at last Zyll spoke.
“Your mother died giving birth to you,” he said, but this much Marcus had already guessed.
“Did you know her?” he pressed.
Zyll nodded. “Yes, I knew her. She was a woman of great beauty and integrity.”
Zyll hung a kettle over the fire to warm. Marcus felt the heat emanate from the cast iron. It felt good radiating against his skin as he tried to imagine his mother’s face.
“What about my father?”
Zyll blinked his eyes, and for just a moment his gaze wandered as if his mind had traveled elsewhere. Then, just as quickly, his eyes regained their focus, and his eyebrows knit together. “Supper will be ready soon. Go finish your chores, boy.”
“But my father—”
Zyll stood, his demeanor turned brusque. This was not a side to Zyll that Marcus had yet seen, and it frightened him. “You have no father!” Zyll shouted.
Marcus shrank from his master in fear. His young body trembled. Zyll seemed to regret his response the very moment he uttered it. His countenance drooped in sorrow. “Go now,” Zyll said softly, “to your chores.”
The key in Marcus’s hand grew warm. His palm began to sweat. He felt himself trembling. He held the key forward, his arm straight. “Ignite!” he commanded.
Before his lips had finished forming the word, the pile of wood leapt to life, a wild orange flame bursting from it like an angry volcano. The blast was so powerful that the sudden force of it threw Marcus onto his back. Propping himself up on his elbows, he gawked open-mouthed at his creation. The explosion had subsided, leaving behind a manageable fire.
“Did I do that?” Marcus asked, dumbfounded. Bryn, who stared wide-eyed at the blaze, nodded silently. Kelvin glanced up briefly and then went back to setting out his blanket for the night.
Marcus expected praise from Xerxes, but true to his temperament, Xerxes could only find fault. “You’re lucky you didn’t burn down the whole grove. Where would we have
found shelter then?” he scoffed.
Marcus’s face reddened. He wanted to take the walking stick and break it over his knee. But instead he turned and stole away silently into the trees.
Twenty-nine
rom where he stood just beyond the edge of the glade, Marcus listened to the crackle of the fire. The chill in the night air ran a cold finger down his spine, and he shivered. He tipped his face up toward the heavens and studied the stars. Zyll had taught him how to find the North Star and to use it like a compass. Marcus had always been fascinated by what he read about stars in Zyll’s books. When he was alone, he often spent hours creating imaginary pictures by connecting the stars together with invisible lines. Just then a star shot across the horizon, leaving a white trail that faded like a morning mist, and he imagined a horse galloping away.
“Magnificent, isn’t it?” Kelvin’s voice startled him. Marcus shivered again. “You’re cold. Why not come back to the fire?”
“I want to be alone,” Marcus muttered.
“You know,” said Kelvin, “when I was little, Mr. Archer would take me into the forest late at night to hunt. Sometimes we’d lie in the same patch of brush for hours. I’d pass the time by counting stars.”
Marcus rubbed his arms with his hands for warmth. “I never knew my father,” he said.
“The truth is,” said Kelvin, “I don’t have one either—not really. The Archers took me in when I was very small. I don’t remember much about my real parents.”
By this time, the moon had risen and hung just above the horizon.
“Why did you come with me?” asked Marcus, changing the subject. “You would have been better off staying with the others.”
“I’m drawn to adventure, I suppose,” replied Kelvin, pulling his collar up around his chin.
“Really,” said Marcus doubtfully.
“That, and I want to know the truth about Jayson. Arik is after him for a reason. What is it, Marcus?”
The Rock of Ivanore Page 8