Barrick turned to them. "That there is Salty Sol Saunders. Good soldier to have on yer side when things go awry. He told me Cumber and old Presage got a group of Kin right over the hill here. What say we head on over?" He dismounted and handed the reins of his steed to another soldier.
"The prospect would be reassuring, Barrick," Mr. Dempsey said.
Shelby and Mr. Dempsey slid off the back of Lenore.
They trudged up the small hill, and every soldier they passed said hello to Barrick and Sculptor or shot them nods of encouragement. A few smiled at Shelby and Mr. Dempsey.
When they reached the top of the slope, excitement gripped her, and Shelby twirled her ponytail around her finger. She viewed a group of others her age sitting by a fire, with an older man in blue. He spoke while they listened.
As she and Mr. Dempsey approached behind Sculptor and Barrick, everyone rose to their feet.
"Ah, my dear Shelby has arrived," said the man in blue. "Now five Kin are present. Excellent. I see an adult independent is along for the ride?"
Barrick said, more than a little embarrassed, "Oh, yes, Presage, he is Miss Pardow's friend and accompanied her through the mobile portal."
"That's quite all right. An adult independent may be useful. Welcome to our campsite. Let us make ourselves acquainted now, shall we? I am Presage." He turned to the kids around the campfire. "Kin, this here is Shelby Pardow, from Ohio. You are?" Presage nodded to Mr. Dempsey.
"Walter Dempsey. Pleased to meet you all."
"Hi," said Shelby. She scanned the other Kin. How refreshing to see human faces.
Presage proceeded to introduce them. "Max Tuttle, from Virginia."
Max nodded as he raised his hand up and fixed his hazel eyes on her. Handsome and athletic, he resembled the quarterback from her high school. His brown suede top was even shaped like a football jersey.
"Riley Upchurch, from Washington State."
Riley stood and flashed a pirate's smile. Her blonde hair glowed in the fiery light. She plopped to the ground and held the front of her khaki-colored leather skirt down.
Shelby grinned back. No doubt about it. She and Riley would be quick friends.
"Emily Lawson, from Connecticut."
She waved as her flaxen hair danced past her waist, her green eyes flickering. Unlike Riley, Emily looked terrified. Shelby hoped she could talk with her soon. She knew how it felt to be insecure and abandoned. Now more than ever, they needed to reassure one another that they were among friends.
"And here we have Stuart Lesser, from New York."
He lifted his head with a taut expression and gave only a half-wave. His baggy, leather attire flapped around him as he reached for a cup of tea.
After Presage finished his introductions, the man with the stethoscope ambled up to him and whispered in his ear.
Shelby ran her fingers through her hair and began playing with her ponytail again. She gazed at Max and caught him in mid-stare. He blushed and flashed away at once. For a brief few seconds, her heart stopped. A shy smile graced her lips and she averted her eyes.
"I'll be right back, Mr. Dempsey," Shelby said. She strode over to Riley and Emily. "Do you mind if I join you?"
"Sure," answered Riley. "This tea is delicious. Can I pour you a cup?"
"Sounds good. I'm getting cold," Shelby admitted.
"Well, friends," Presage said, "please make yourselves comfortable around the campfire. I must attend to something. If there is anything that you desire, Cumber and Sol are more than willing to oblige. I shall return shortly." He walked off with the man who appeared to be a doctor.
Cumber explained, "He's Healer Beekman. Someone is a bit ill, so Presage will help old Beekman out."
Barrick waved and offered a kind smile. "Sculptor and I are off for a little while to freshen up. Don't worry, we'll be back to check on you soon."
Mr. Dempsey joined the circle, sat down, and pressed his hands up to the flames.
Shelby eyed a handgun Cumber had in his holster. "What shoots out of it? Bullets?"
Cumber pulled out the gun. "What? Boo-letts? This is a hand-cannon. It fires a concentrated form of air and molecules taken from the atmosphere, though most of the power comes from the person operating it. Each person shoots at different levels. Not many have the ability. Only the registered owner can fire the hand-cannon, as it's linked to their handprints. Mine can knock you back twenty feet on medium, and flatten you for days on high... if you aren't wearing armor."
Admiring the weapon, Stuart said, "Cool."
Mr. Dempsey said, "So how did everyone else arrive here? Shelby and I entered the portal from the library where I work."
"In my school computer room, doing some homework before practice," said Max.
Emily said, "On my laptop at the local park, across the street from my house."
Riley raised her head. "At my neighbor's place, feeding their dogs."
Mr. Dempsey gave Stuart a questioning stare when he didn't say anything.
"In my father's office playing a video game on his computer," Stuart muttered, though grudgingly, as if it pained him to talk.
Collectively, they sought Mr. Dempsey for guidance. As the lone human adult, he seemed the only person they could turn to. Shelby felt the same way as the others, but knew better. Mr. Dempsey comprehended about as much or as little as the rest of them.
Riley asked the question they were all wondering. "What do we do now, Mr. Dempsey?"
"This is extraordinary. It opens up a remarkable number of possibilities concerning the mysteries of the universe. As far as our next actions, I believe we simply have to do what's right."
Presage returned with a pair of soldiers. Cumber rushed over with two cups and a kettle. "Casselton, Borgy, come and sip some hot tea. Is the sixth Kin with you?"
Both lumbered forward, exhausted, their armor covered in mud. Casselton stared at the ground, long strands of wooly black and white hair and beard masking most of his face. Vilaborg carried a tense expression, his mahogany hair plastered backward from the temples.
"Unfortunately, they do not have the final Kin," said Presage in a low tone.
Vilaborg looked sheepish. "The readings on the portal say he came through. We searched and then a horde of Bogmen showed. We needed to retreat, but we must go out and find him with reinforcements." Dread was heavy in his voice.
Sol said, "Wasn't that Kin supposed to materialize near the Cark Woods?"
"Aye, we were in the Cark." Casselton's eyes fixed on the ground.
"I already sent out reconnoiters to scour the Cark," Presage said. "I pray he finds his way to safe hands."
Shelby watched Presage as he walked off. She absorbed his fear and insecurity as he stared out into the darkness with a troubled look.
Zach thought about the magnificent creatures that set him on his course. Wondering if he was dreaming no longer came to mind; the world as he knew it had been left behind.
He followed the river, searching for a boat and a man named Throg. As he walked, he considered a few different things to explain his sudden arrival. Had he stumbled into a time machine or teleportation device in his backyard? Not likely, but then again, neither was a world with singing eyes and fresh brown roses.
The forest seemed normal now, and he longed for the earlier colorful environment. The grassy patches were green instead of light blue. Trees were typical heights, and the bushes were no longer purple. This place looked like Earth, but when a yellow squirrel scampered up a tree trunk, he reconsidered. No, not quite Earth.
Strange insects flew through the air. He flinched as an oversized bright azure dragonfly whizzed by his ear. The only time he'd ever seen such a huge dragonfly was in a museum display. Dragonflies the size of large rats hadn't existed on Earth since the Carboniferous era. He watched the blue bug flit away.
Blue. He thought again of the Fugues who'd visited him a short time ago. They'd spoken to him telepathically, several soothing voices becoming one message. A feeling of safety a
nd security had overcome him when they spoke. He still carried a lingering sense of trust toward them.
Walking along the riverside became challenging after a time. Rather than flat patches of grass and rock, he now scaled muddy walls with difficulty. His feet slipped under him, and more than once he almost fell into the river. The mud gave way to a rocky shore, which was flatter, but still cumbersome to cross. After an hour of hiking, he began to doubt what the Fugues had told him.
As he rounded a bend, he came upon a small, one-person campsite on the river's edge. Smoke billowed from a pile of sticks next to a hefty boat tied to a nearby tree. The smell of cooking meat made his stomach grumble. The encampment didn't appear vacant, so he approached cautiously, hoping Throg lived here.
"Easy, Hoss," came an earthy voice from behind him. "This isn't a public campfire."
Zach spun to face the camp's owner.
A tall man with short, wavy chestnut hair stood in front of him. The brown leather- and suede-clad figure held a walking stick. Lean and rugged, he tilted his sun-baked head and stared down at Zach with cobalt eyes. Dark stubble peppered the stranger's face.
"Are you Throg?" Zach kept his tone even, though his heart raced.
The foreigner examined him. "I don't believe we have met before, have we?"
"N-no, sir. My n-name is Zach Ryder. The F-Fugues sent me."
"The Fugues? Did you just say the Fugues?" His eyes widened and he stroked his bristles.
"Y-yes, they sent me to f-find you."
"Glory be the Fugues," Throg whispered. He peered up the river and tapped his stick on the ground. "Well then, I haven't heard or thought of the Fugues in quite some time. What did they tell you?"
"They told me to follow the river downstream until I found you. They said I'd be safe with you and that you would be able to help me."
"They said all this now, did they? Only certain Kin can communicate with the Fugues. You must be a Kin... haven't seen one in some time. So Biskara could be on the move again, eh?" Throg gazed across the river.
"Who?"
"Oh, yes, I forgot. Biskara is a pure evil entity. He's what you grew up calling Satan, Lucifer, the devil. He has many names, but on Azimuth he is known as Biskara. Uh, Zach, where are your interceptors?"
"Who?"
"You'd make a perfect full-bred Earth owl."
"Um, interceptors? I think I ran away from them. Two people were looking for me, but I was confused. I was on my computer and then in the backyard, and, and...," he sputtered.
The woodsman grunted. "Same basic story when someone goes through the mobile portal. So the interceptors let one slip by the goalie, did they? The Fugues come whenever trouble's brewing. Was anyone following or chasing you?"
"Yes, yes, there was a little man, very hairy, with paint on his face and beard. He had a loud horn. I raced out of there and fell down a hill."
"A hairy little fellow with a horn? And looking for Kin? Sounds like the Bogmen have been contracted by someone to find you. It makes sense. Offer a Bogman a piece of chud, and he'll dance on hot coals for you." Throg spit on the ground.
"Uh, sorry, but that's a lot of information. I'm a Kin? Satan placed a hit on me?" Perplexed, Zach knelt down on one knee, nauseous as he imagined a red devil with horns hunting him.
Throg chuckled. "Yup, pretty much the gist of things. Before Biskara decides to strike, though, he has to do something about the Aulic Assembly. I do hope I'm wrong. If Biskara has returned...."
Throg twirled his stick. "This is a bad situation if Biskara's gotten rid of the Assembly. Those on the Aulic Assembly are the only ones preordained to operate the Silver Sphere."
Zach frowned, confused.
Throg continued. "It's an armillary sphere and can locate the celestial whereabouts of Biskara."
Throg swigged from his canteen and then offered it to Zach, who accepted. Cold water sluiced down his throat; he hadn't realized how thirsty the trip made him.
"Biskara is monitored by the Assembly. He's creative, though, attempting to set up clones of himself and similar strategies. My bet is he kidnapped them. You're kind of like a backup Assembly, just the way this is. Each Kin serves as a counterpart to a member of the Assembly."
The tall man took a deep breath and squinted at Zach. "Any questions?" He accepted his canteen back.
"Uh, Throg, who are you in all this? You seem to have an awful lot of information."
Throg gave Zach a warm grin. "Well, the Fugues must think I'm willing to help you reach the rest of the Kin, now don't they? At any rate, welcome to Azimuth."
The forester had a comforting way about him. Zach wondered why his stomach remained easy, considering he'd been whisked away to another world to help its residents battle their version of Satan. Perhaps he belonged here. Back home, he was never wanted.
He stood in front of Throg on the planet Azimuth, thinking about how life could change directions. At the same time, though, he missed Adrian. Still, Adrian would want him to be happy. Of anyone, Adrian knew what Zach went through every day. There was a lot to cover still. Zach pushed the thought of home aside.
In any case, it was better to be here than sitting on the back steps of his adopted home, depressed about where his life was headed. Even though he was bigger than the largest senior at Taft High now, he still felt like a scrawny fifteen-year-old nerd.
"Give me a second to pack up," Throg said. "We need to move out, and soon. The Bogmen may run with Nightlanders, particularly because you're here."
He proceeded to pick up his belongings around the small campsite, then took a bucket to the river and filled it. Zach offered to help close out the camp, and Throg thrust the full pail into his arms.
"Put out the fire, if you don't mind. I'll get my things from inside."
Zach doused the flames.
When Throg emerged from his tent, he carried a pack. "Food, blankets, all such stuff," he said with a wink. "Never know what you might need on a trip like this. Here, come give me a hand."
"I'm scared to ask what Nightlanders are," said Zach as he helped Throg.
"The Nightlanders are soldiers who operate under Biskara's sons. Every time an uprising occurs, the people banter about Biskara." Throg placed his gear onto the boat. "But the Nightlanders don't reveal who they are."
Zach wound a thick rope Throg had given him. "What do you mean?"
"Well, Biskara's sons never admit who they are until they're at maximum power. The Nightlanders have a dreadful reputation. The original Nightlander army, led by Biskara's first son, Hideux, was responsible for a reign of unspeakable horror. Back then, some mentors questioned the existence of Biskara."
Zach began to understand the dire situation into which he'd been thrust. He tucked the rope under a seat and helped pick up a few other things around camp. He shoved forks, spoons, bowls and the like into a satchel.
Throg placed some pots and pans into a sack. "Then Hideux took power. One of the mentors, the legendary General Rostand, had been sent to spy a military base on Andromeda. He witnessed Hideux speak to Biskara. General Rostand managed to escape and reported back to the Mentors' Academy. It was there that the Silver Sphere was created. It wasn't by coincidence that the truth seekers reached out at this time, and legend has it that they helped the Academy develop the Sphere."
Throg had finished packing and the two of them returned to the boat. The strong but slender woodsman adjusted his bags and motioned for Zach to hop aboard.
"Throg," Zach began.
"I know, I know, laddie.... Who are the truth seekers? Who are the mentors? Listen, we met not thirty minutes ago, and we need to travel downriver to be safe. Let's get going, and I'll fill you in, okay?"
"Sure."
This real, daring journey had heroes, and from what it sounded like, Zach was one of them. He was starved for knowledge about this world, and though he wanted to continue the conversation, a little more time wouldn't matter. Throg was right—they needed to get to safety, especially if Nightlanders we
re after him.
Zach boarded the boat, which swished and rocked beneath him. He managed to keep his balance as the enormous craft rested low in the water. A stove sat at the front, and a few rows of benches ran up close by the stern.
Throg used a pole to move them away from shore, then handed it to Zach. "Let's go, and keep it down 'til I say we can talk."
As they proceeded down the river, Zach held his tongue. He helped row out into the current, and once the vessel rode downstream, Throg motioned for him to pull the pole on board before he pushed a couple of levers near the prow, and two wheels on the rear of the boat began churning water.
Zach examined his surroundings to take his attention off all the data processing in his mind. Taking a break was easy, as the forest was more beautiful than any other he'd seen.
The plush foliage offered different shades of green and brown. Strange creatures darted around the bank. He spied a raccoon with bluish fur and an orange mask. A pack of ferret-like critters scurried alongside them, sprinting in and out of the bushes. A pleasant scent permeated the air and reminded him of a sweeter version of jasmine. He sucked in a deep breath, safe and at peace.
Throg broke his silence. "Are you hungry, laddie?" The sturdy man's gaze remained fixed on the shoreline.
Zach had been so preoccupied by his journey that he hadn't even thought of food. His gut rumbled. "Starved."
Throg turned toward the shore and slowed the boat down. Once they got close to a tangled bush, he dug his hand into a cluster of branches.
"Pegasi nest, excellent eggs." Throg fished out two of the largest eggs Zach had ever seen.
He eased the eggs into a basket and steered the schooner to the middle of the channel again. Each of the eggs, bright yellow with dark brown speckling, was the size of Throg's head.
"Pegasi are weird birds. Some animals you will encounter—as normal as cats and dogs in these parts—will astound you. The Pegasi, for instance, are rather large birds, common on the river, with heads that look like horses. Six eggs in there, so don't fret. Plenty left to be born for this Pegasi family."
The Silver Sphere Page 6