Oath Keeper

by Jefferson Smith

  Paradoxically, it was Mehklok’s perspective, more than her own, that would have made her feel better about herself. But for that to happen, she’d have needed time free from the plague of distractions and delays that hounded them.

  All of the Gnomileshi variety.

  It seemed they couldn’t march an hour in any direction without having to take cover at least once to allow a Gnome scouting party to pass by. Each time, Mehklok volunteered to simply talk their way through. After all, he was a powerful and well-known church official, and the Hordesmen would do his bidding without question. Probably.

  But each time, Eliza had declined his offer, using Scraw to tell him that one should not question the Ways of the Flame. She hadn’t meant to capitalize the phrase, but hearing Mehklok repeat it many times over the course of the journey, the capitals had crept in there somehow, and now everything she did became part of the secret body of mystic lore being codified by Mehklok as “The Ways of the Flame.”

  Through their near-encounters with the roving bands of Gnome scouts, they noted a few recurring themes. Each band was comprised of either three or four Gnomes—one of whom always carried a Goody urn—and most groups had one of the tall, white gorilla-like creatures with them as well. These were the Yeren, according to Mardu. A peaceful and utterly harmless folk, although quite rare. In her day, they had been connected somehow to the dragons, but nobody had ever figured out how. All that anyone knew was that whenever a dragon lair was discovered, there was usually a family or two of Yeren living in the same cavern. But the creatures of Mardu’s recollection had not been as pathetic as these she saw now, being led around on a leash by Gnomileshi Hordesmen, shuffling dimly like confused old men. They were quite dignified creatures, Mardu had said. Docile. Gentle. But not stupid. To see what they have now become is sad.

  On the evening of the second day of their march, Mardu called a halt. What we seek is just ahead, she said. I can taste it from here, even above the Methilien vim that should drown its flavor with ease. To sense it should not be possible, and yet it is. Another puzzle for us to unravel, perhaps. But for now, remain here. Scraw and I will seek ahead. And with a flap of black wings, they were gone.

  Earlier, Mardu and Eliza had decided that, in order to maintain the illusion of mystical presence, Mardu would not speak directly into the minds of any of the Followers unless absolutely necessary. Instead, everything said to them by the Flame would be in pantomime from Eliza, or from the screeching throat of the crow. So, with Scraw off reconnoitering, Eliza simply sat down in place, crossed her legs, and resumed the Praying Mantis pose. Another of the Ways of the Flame. This one meant, “I have no idea what’s going on either, and I don’t know what to tell you, so I’m going to look all magical and divine and stuff and let you guess.” The Gnome took up position beside her and amused himself by trying to contort his stumpy Gnome legs into a semblance of her pose.

  Scraw returned a few minutes later.

  It is here, Mardu said. But it is buried. Ahead there is a clearing, and through the clearing, a small brook flows. In the center of the clearing, the brook divides to flow around a circular island. From legs, it appears normal, but from the sky… Mardu included a crow’s-eye view of the clearing. With the sun nearing the horizon, the view was etched with deep shadows, but Eliza recognized the ring shape instantly.

  A bullseye.

  An eye? To see what? Mardu asked.

  No, not an actual eye. A ‘bullseye.’ It’s a mark you draw to practice shooting or throwing things. You put a bunch of circles around each other and then try to hit the middle one.

  And these are drawn on a bull?

  No. Forget about the word, Eliza sent. I only meant that it looks like a target—as though someone was planning to throw something. Something hella big and really important. Must have wanted to be sure they hit the right spot.

  Perhaps they threw the dragon scale, then. It is not large, but it is buried deeply beneath the center of the island, which is the center of this bull’s eye. A circle of trees, surrounding a circle of grasses, around a circular bulge in the stream that contains a circular island.

  Buried deeply? How deep?

  Many strides, Mardu replied. I think. It is hard to be certain. I do not see it. I can only sense it.

  So now we have to start digging. Great.

  Yes. After we dispatch the Gnome guards, Mardu added.

  Eliza shot to her feet. Guards? There are guards? Do they know we’re here? Why didn’t you tell me? That part should have come first!

  I assumed you had seen them in the sky-view, Mardu said. But all is well. We are not discovered.

  Great, Eliza replied, as she wrestled her heartbeat and breathing back to normal. She looked again at the mental image of the clearing and yes, she could see that there were three Gnomes standing still, arranged around a camp fire they had set in the middle of the island. They stood so still she had assumed they were rocks or stumps or something. Is there anything else you haven’t mentioned that might be useful? Any rings of fire around it? Does the dragon scale have a money-back guarantee? Will I get a free all-expenses paid trip to Tahiti if I circle the smiling monkey and act now?

  You are very strange, friend Eliza.

  Thanks, Eliza said, sticking her tongue out at her crow-shrouded friend. I love you too. Beside her, Eliza noticed that Mehklok was now staring at her in confusion. Oops. Gotta watch that whole talking to myself thing. Hopefully he’d just write it up as another mysterious Way of the Flame. Then she called Scraw to come settle on her shoulder.

  It was time to tell the midget about the next step in their crazy plan.

  * * *

  “But I am certain they will do as I instruct,” Mehklok said. Again Eliza shook her head.

  “Too risky,” she said, through Scraw, who was perched on her shoulder. “Need them scared. Running away. Not curious.”

  But internally, she was much less confident. Any idea how we’re going to do that? she sent. Scraw shivered his entire body in a quake of uncertainty. Better let me see then. Take Scraw up ahead and show me what’s what.

  Scraw flitted off into the night and Eliza turned to look at Mehklok. She still didn’t trust him, but she needed to see what they were up against. After a moment of silent contemplation, Eliza stepped past him, placing her back against a large rock that thrust up out of the forest floor. Then she settled herself down into her lotus position. She was just going to have to trust the little creep. With her back now at least partly protected against treachery, Eliza closed her eyes and reached out through her connection to the bird, leaving Mehklok to puzzle it out for himself in the growing darkness.

  “You see through the eyes of the bird?” Mehklok asked, after a moment. His voice was quiet with awe. Eliza nodded her head. “That is truly—” Eliza held up a hand to cut him off. Scraw had reached a branch overlooking the glade and she needed to concentrate on what he could see.

  As in the earlier mental image Mardu had shared, there were three of them, but seeing it live, sort of, rather than a memory, everything was much clearer. They really were guards. That much was obvious now. They stood in a ring around their watch fire, completely still, gazing outward into the surrounding gloom.

  They’re not fools, Mardu sent. See how they stand with their backs to the flame? They protect their night eyes while the light of the fire illuminates any who would approach.

  But why guard an island? Do they know about the magical whatsit underneath? Then she scoffed at herself. Yeah. Right. They’re in the middle of nowhere guarding a damp clump the size of our kitchen so that nobody steals the mud. Of course they know about the dragon thingy. But why leave it here and post guards? Why not just dig it up and take it back to Gnome-land with them? It doesn’t make any sense.

  I do not know.

  At least they don’t seem to be armed.

  Do you not see the long pole each of them holds?

  Well yeah, Eliza sent, but I was worried about, you know, actual wea
pons. Arrows or machine guns or magic phasers or something. Clubs don’t scare me so much.

  Not even a magical club, forged from the wing bone of a dragon? The bone lance of a Gnomileshi Hordesman was a weapon much feared in my time. Capable of grievous charms over considerable distance. You truly do not fear it?

  Eliza shuddered. Well, now that I know it’s not just a stupid club I do. Nobody told me the bad guys got magic spears, too. This just keeps getting better and better. Eliza’s inner eye flitted around the image, looking for anything else that might be useful. Hello, there’s the Tupperware.

  The what?

  That giant metal bowl on the grass. Beside the big guy in front. We keep seeing those. Every group of scouts we’ve seen has had one just like it—even the group that first night, back at the traveler’s dehn. And I’ve seen them in my world too.

  Truly? What are they used for in your world?

  For burying dead people.

  So it is a thing of death.

  Yeah. Pretty much.

  “What’s going on? What can you see?”

  Eliza shook her head to clear the crow’s vision from her mind, and opened her eyes to find the Gnome peering at her anxiously, with an almost reverent awe. Even though she was sitting on the ground, Eliza did not have to look up very sharply to meet his gaze. She shook her head briefly and then held up a hand in the international goddess gesture for “leave me alone you little twerp, I’m busy.” Mehklok bowed his head in apology, and Eliza closed her eyes once more.

  In a moment, she had reoriented herself to the full-surround crow-o-ramic vision, and as she examined the scene, it occurred to her that something was missing. Where’s the Yeren? They had asked Mehklok why every Gnome squad seemed to include a Goody urn and one of the tall, white-furred creatures, but he had been just as perplexed as they were. Or at least, he’d said he was.

  She is asleep in the forest, Mardu answered. They have tied her to a tree and left her with their packs and supplies.

  “Tell me what you see in the flames!”

  Eliza sighed. Doesn’t look like there’s anything else to see here. Let’s regroup and figure out a plan. I think Junior’s wet himself or something. He doesn’t seem to be able to go five minutes without somebody telling him what a pretty monkey he is. She opened her eyes and then let out a yip of fear. Frustrated at not knowing what was going on, Mehklok had leaned in so close that he appeared to her opening eyes as a touring menace, looming over her, as his voice still echoed in her memory. “… what you see in the flames!”

  And suddenly, Eliza knew how they were going to get rid of the Gnomes.

  * * *

  It might work, Mardu agreed. But I am so weak. I should be replenished by now. Or Scraw should be. Something is very wrong. There is scarcely any vim left in the world and we have gathered but little. I do not know if it is enough to work a fire charm from here.

  But it can’t hurt to try, right? If you can’t do anything, there’ll be nothing for them to notice.

  After discussing Eliza’s idea for some time, Mardu admitted that she knew a charm that might work. Something called a “fire puppet.” It was a simple charm that parents often used to entertain and even educate children—making characters and shapes appear in the flames of a cookfire, where they could be moved about to re-enact great battles or demonstrate a difficult task. But Mardu was not optimistic. A full fire puppet, she admitted, would require a lot of vim, and a lot of concentration too. It was considered quite an art to be able to sculpt the flames using nothing but your imagination, and she did not believe she was strong enough for it. But there was a much easier version of the charm, and that’s the one they decided to try with the guards.

  The difference, she explained to Eliza, is where the image comes from. I do not have even a portion of the vim that I would need to create visions from nothing. But if there were a model. Someone to pantomime the movements… Then I could simply project the sights before me to guide the flames. A much simpler charm. As soon as we know what we are going to project.

  Surprisingly, it was Mehklok who provided that last part.

  “It is said that when a sky-dwe… when a Wasketchin faces a great problem, he will speak his question to the trees, seeking the wisdom of the dragon. Is this true?”

  It has nothing to do with dragons, Mardu said. But yes. My father put his great problems to the trees, as did his fathers. Trees are much wiser than any dragon.

  Eliza nodded at the Gnome. It was true.

  Mehklok seemed pleased. “My people also have problems,” he said. “Though we do not have so many trees. In the Throat of the Forest, when one has a great difficulty, one speaks his question to the flames.”

  Eliza raised an eyebrow. Oh really? Do tell.

  “There is much to hear in the roars and whispers of fire,” Mehklok explained. “It is the Dragon speaking with tongues of flame and the voice of fire. All Gnomes are taught to fear the fire voices, and to obey. To do otherwise is to spurn great wisdom and play games with the future. Some have even seen visions in the flame. Visions that tell them to do all manner of things. Sometimes terrible things. I myself would not trust the urgings of a burning stick, but these guards are simple. They will fear. And they will follow.”

  “Fire puppets,” croaked the bird. “K-k-k-keh!”

  Eliza grinned. This was beginning to sound like a plan.

  Chapter 20

  The next morning, Tayna emerged from her room to find most of the family engaged in a heated discussion.

  “That cannot be!” Zimu said. “Does he not see that the Gnome manipulates him?”

  Tayna joined them at the small table in the kitchen, where Zimu had been bringing Abeni up to speed on everything that had been going on among the Djin. Tayna took a seat next to Abeni, and Shaleen greeted her warmly, handing her a hot mug of boh-cho with a dense, nutty cake set across the top. Tayna smiled her thanks and then they both turned their attention back to the discussion. Apparently, Abeni had just told his brother the details of his audience with Mabundi, and Zimu was none too happy about it.

  “What service to the Djin is offered by leaping at Gnomileshi bidding?”

  “He believes he is sparing us all from the Gnome King’s war,” Shaleen said.

  “That is a false bargain,” Zimu said. “Mabundi was a fine teacher, but he was lenient. Too readily he accepted tardiness and shallow excuses from those who did not wish to work at their studies.”

  “Perhaps he was allowing them to confront the consequences of their efforts,” Shaleen suggested, as she settled herself into a chair across from her boys and set her own cup on the table. “Or their lack of effort. It is a worthy lesson, and one every person must learn.”

  “But shall a king treat his people so?” Zimu countered. “Does he mean to teach us by delivering us to the Horde? No doubt there are many worthy lessons such hardship can teach as well.”

  Shaleen shrugged. “I do not—”

  “Divide and conquer,” Tayna said, as she bit into her cake. All three faces turned to look at her.

  “What is to be divided?” Zimu asked. “The Djin are united, even if poorly led.”

  “Not the Djin,” Tayna said. “The opposition.” But still her table-mates seemed perplexed. Then it hit her. “Oh right,” she said. “I keep forgetting how much you guys don’t know about fighting. Where I come from, this is all pretty basic. It’s how you beat an enemy who’s bigger than you are. Rule #3 for how to beat Goodies. Never let them work together.”

  When she saw that they still weren’t following, she turned to Abeni. “Look, how did you control the sprites?”

  “Abeni does not see how—”

  “You offered a prize to each one of them, right? Individually. Those ‘tasty morsels’ of flapmeat. And that got them fighting each other instead of you, remember?” Abeni looked at her thoughtfully, as she turned to Zimu.

  “That’s what Angiron is doing to the entire Forest. He knows he can’t beat both the W
asketchin and the Djin—not if you team up—so he’s trying to keep you apart.”

  Abeni began to nod and Zimu’s eyes widened with sudden understanding. “It is the same with a large task,” he said, and Tayna could see the wheels clearly turning behind that large face of his as he put the idea together. “It is as Kijamon has always told: when one cannot do a large, impossible thing, do many small possible things instead.”

  “Right,” Tayna said. “Divide and conquer.”

  “Perhaps he divides more than simply Wasketchin from Djin,” Abeni said. “Everywhere, Wasketchin flee throughout the Forest. They do not resist together.”

  “The Houses!” Shaleen said suddenly, and everyone turned to her. “Mabundi has remained here with us for much longer than other kings. Already we have had complaints from House Xenek and House Bashee.”

  Zimu nodded. “As you told me yesterday. Perhaps the Djin are not as united as I had thought. The Wasketchin stand divided from the Djin, and it seems that both Peoples stand divided among themselves, as well.”

  “And while everybody’s standing around wondering what’s going on, Angiron’s scooping up all the Wasketchin he can find,” Tayna said. “Soon there won’t be any of them left for the Djin to team up with.”

  “Then he will come to the Anvil,” Abeni said.

  “But what can be done about it?” Shaleen asked. “As Zimu says, the Peoples are already divided.”

  “We must undivide our people,” Zimu said. Then his eyes narrowed. “But first, we must remove the knife that divides us.”

  “But where is the knife?” Abeni asked.

  “Not ‘where,’” Shaleen said. “The question is ‘who.’ It is Yoliq who divides us.”