"Morgana!"
"Run!" she said. "Take him with you and go! Now!"
Ms. Lantern hoisted the boy and rushed down the road toward the tree line. Halfway there, a Nightlander arrow struck her down.
Morgana bolted to the shrieking boy.
The army stormed the village with fervor, ruthlessly cutting down men where they stood. They seized the women and children and herded them into large cages on wagons. Nightlanders infested the village, searching houses for anyone who tried to hide.
They must be looking for someone.
Otis remained at her heels, zipping to the Nightlanders trying to capture the little boy. Morgana pulled the knife from her belt and prepared to stab a horse, hoping to spook it. One of the Nightlanders swung about and thumped her with the blunt end of his spear.
Dizzy, she stumbled and fell to the cobblestones. Blood oozed from a gash on her forehead and her lip swelled. She tasted iron.
"A fighter, eh? Don't want you causing no trouble," said the Nightlander, his voice echoing within his metal helm. He spun the spear around and aimed to strike.
Otis sprang from the street and bit the Nightlander's wrist. The man yelped as plate mail crunched and ground against his flesh. His partner whirled, but Otis was too quick. He dropped from the first warrior's arm to the soil and nipped the second's horse. The mare reared, throwing her rider.
Otis backed off, growling. His teeth were wet, dripping with saliva, and his hackles bristled. He barked ferociously at the two Nightlanders.
The little boy wailed nearby.
"Run!" Morgana shouted at him and tried to get to her feet.
A spear came from nowhere and hit the soil where her hands had been, between her and the boy. The youngster hollered and scampered off into an alley. She floundered along the dirt.
An explosion rocked the temple right down the street from her. A torch must have struck the vat of oil the priests used for anointing. In an instant, all of their work was ablaze and smoldering. The love for their village meant nothing to these men. They looted and pillaged, taking what they pleased from the stack of icons outside the temple door.
Borgen ran from the building, his robes on fire. Morgana bellowed his name, but he did not hear.
Her eyes were drawn from Borgen to a figure galloping down the main road of the city, straight toward her. He raised a black crossbow and pulled the trigger. The bolt flew even and true, and Borgen collapsed to the ground, where he lay unmoving.
Morgana shrieked in horror. The imposing figure reined in beside the Nightlanders. His destrier whinnied, showing pink gums and gnashing white teeth.
"Malefic," she murmured. It could be no one else.
His black helm sported a pair of enormous, demonic antlers rising from the temples. Ebony armor shone in the sunlight. Firelight from the village reflected off the plate mail, and his billowing raven cape whipped out behind him in the icy breeze.
Tendrils of charcoal gray smoke carried across the path. Houses, stained with gunk, crumbled as tongues of fire licked at the windows and doorways. The wails of children and crying women reverberated through the town.
She glanced around, terror wrapping its icy fingers around her heart.
"You could have lived, little pest. Kill her." The words, spoken with such coldness, stunned her.
"Otis, run!" she begged, hoping at least to save him.
The Sheppard ignored her and launched at Malefic with a bark. The Nightlander leader smacked Otis aside, and a pained whine broke the air.
Morgana sprang to her feet in an instant, running to his side. "Otis!"
Malefic stormed forward with steely resolve on his devilish steed, and hissed, "I will burn you alive."
Morgana whirled on him, tears streaming down her cheeks, and raised her knife, ready to plow it through his armor and into his foul heart. She froze.
Her father burst out from the alley, the hand-cannon held high, forcing the nightmarish horse and its hellish rider back.
"Run, Morgana!" he shouted.
"Father!" Morgana backed away. She glanced around, searching for the boy, but he was nowhere in sight. She knelt, trying to lift Otis as he whimpered.
Elund cried, "Leave him! I'll get him! Go!"
Hot tears dripped from her chin. "I'm not leaving you!"
"Run, now!" He shoved her away and she stumbled.
Before Elund could fire his weapon, Malefic lifted a broadsword and brought it down on her father's hand-cannon, shattering it. He crumpled to the ground.
Morgana gasped and backed off, choking on her sobs.
"Get help!" he yelled to her from the dirt.
Malefic turned his wintry gaze onto her.
The only thought in her mind was 'run.' Though she fought to stay, her legs wouldn't listen. Her feet flew beneath her as if with an intellect of their own, as she instinctively sped down the cobblestone street.
No! She thought, forcing herself to stop. She needed to get Otis.
When she turned back, a handful of Nightlanders were chasing after her. Behind them, a light blue figure with green hair glided in from the woods. Morgana rubbed her eyes and squinted. The odd man knelt over Otis's shivering body and stared up at Malefic. Nightlanders backed away from him, though their weapons were drawn.
All at once, her father's form dropped beneath Malefic's sword. Too shocked to scream, she merely stood, frozen, as Nightlanders rushed toward her. The soldiers drew closer and an arrow whizzed by her ear.
She couldn't save anyone if she died. She needed to escape and find help. Tears streamed down her face as she vaulted toward the trees.
Milo raced through the woods on his steed, Shara, to no avail. He had lost the Kin. At last, he slowed and cursed under his breath as he strained in all directions for a clue. Nothing but foliage surrounded him in every direction. None of the plants appeared mussed or torn, and no obvious tracks had been left. The Nightlanders had been smart enough to take their time.
From behind a tree, a Leshy emerged and stood before Milo, smirking.
Milo tensed with his sword raised. Shara, in contrast, remained at peace. She even lowered her head toward the Leshy.
The Leshy reached forward and patted Shara on the nose. "I am Drake, a Leshy. Throg asked me to assist you in rescuing the two captured Kin."
"Throg, you say? Well, it's about time he joined the fray. You are my first Leshy," he said warily, still holding his blade at the ready. "I've heard your people pillage camps and run soldiers out of the forest for simply making a campfire."
"My dear Milo, great warrior that you are, you will need to dismount Shara if you wish to track, unless you would like to announce to the entire quadrant your presence." Drake ignored his comment.
Milo focused on his mare as his cheeks flushed red. "I thought I could catch them quicker, but not a hair of them has been spotted." He dismounted. "Shara, back to the Stonecoats." He clapped his hands twice and she raced away.
He twirled to Drake and sized him up. "I'll follow my instincts, Leshy, and trust you."
"Throg is a few hours south. You will be pleased to know that the sixth Kin is with him. The two captured Kin are being held just over this hill. They ambushed the one named Max. You'll need my assistance if you wish to rescue them unharmed."
"Your help is welcome, Leshy, as is the news of the missing Kin."
"Sneak over the hill. When you are within sight of the camp, you'll await the Kin," Drake said, and disappeared behind the tree. "When they are free, you will take them back to the army. Then, leave my forest in peace."
Milo stood a moment and gaped in the direction the Leshy had gone. After shaking his head, he turned, crouched a bit, and sidled toward the highland, quiet as a leaf on the wind.
Shelby stirred next to Max, and groaned.
"Shelby, you okay?" he asked.
"I think so. My head smarts. Where are we?"
"Caught by these Nightlanders is where. We aren't far from the ambush site, but they seem to be regrou
ping and waiting for reinforcements. This rope is tight."
Shelby could tell he was struggling to breathe. "Did anyone see us get carried off?"
"Well, I spotted you being taken. I followed, and a bunch of these guys jumped me." He jerked his head at the Nightlanders.
"You followed after me? Alone?" She vaguely remembered seeing him rush after her, but the memory was muddled.
"Well, I had to. Those Disembowelers ran everywhere—a crazy battle scene."
"You followed to rescue me? Max, thank you." She felt herself blush.
A rather large blade of grass sprouted up between them, and Shelby gasped. Though she felt at home here, she was not yet used to the abnormalities of this world. Magic was as common as the wind in this place.
"Psst. I am Drake, sent to assist you." The voice came from the grass.
Max and Shelby exchanged perplexed glances and returned their gaze back to the green speaker. About to reply, Shelby paused when she glimpsed someone coming.
One of the Nightlanders walked over, his eyes boring down at them through his leather mask. He hunched over them a few moments, then grunted and rambled off.
After a short pause, the voice returned. "I will cut your ropes. Remain as if you are bound until I distract these wretched soldiers. A friend awaits you at the bottom of the hill."
Max strained his head forward. "Uh, who and what are y-you?"
"I am Drake the Leshy, and I want my woods clean. Keep still and await my distractions."
The blade of grass shrank into the ground. A sharp object materialized between Shelby's ankles. It moved up and down as it cut through the coarse rope. Before long, the loops loosened under her ankles and the tool slid behind her, again rubbing against the cord. Within a few moments, the bonds eased. The wooden shiv appeared between Max's ankles and repeated the process until both his ropes drooped.
Max and Shelby held their position as if bound, waiting for the diversion Drake had promised. Two of the Nightlanders stood just a couple of yards in front of them. Another pair was stationed behind their tree. Farther off in the center of the makeshift camp, a handful of Nightlanders engaged in an animated discussion. From above them, the sounds of a baby's wailing drifted down.
The Nightlanders stopped their conversation and looked skyward, bewildered. A few of them muttered and pointed. The soldiers behind the tree joined the two in front, and they walked over to the group that had been huddled.
As they all continued to search up in the trees to locate the bawling baby, several wolves emerged from the far side of the camp. The Nightlanders drew their swords sluggishly, as if drugged. Snarling, the pack raced at full speed, not attacking but running in circles around the disoriented soldiers.
"Now," Max whispered.
They sprang to their feet, the ropes falling to the ground. Max grabbed Shelby's arm as she wavered from the earlier blow to her head. He pulled her forward, and they dashed off to the bottom of the hill.
When they arrived closer to their destination, Milo stepped out from behind a tree—a welcome sight. Shelby smiled in relief.
"This way, Kin," Milo said, ushering them onward. "How good to take you back well."
"Same here. What of the battle?" Max asked.
"I had to leave in order to follow you, so I do not know the status. The Stonecoats will not lose. At worst, they'll beat back the ambush and regroup not far from here."
He nodded in the direction of the besieged troopers. "We won't need to worry about these Nightlanders. From what I read, the Leshy is closest with the wolves in the forest. Drake appears to have placed a type of mind spell on the soldiers, which I heard is similar to being drunk."
They traveled at a speedy pace through the weald. Shelby and Max jumped felled trees and bushes as they ran. Milo dodged trunks and roots. The forest ended and they burst onto the Dorado Path.
"Who sent Drake to help us?" Shelby asked. She was panting hard, and sweat dripped down her brow.
"Throg is his name, and he found the last Kin. Presage will be relieved. I feared for his life." Milo looked over his shoulder.
Shelby sighed. "It must suck to be lost and alone. At least we have each other and some information. So will they be joining us?"
"They are a few hours away. It is crucial that you are all together. I'm sure Presage will rethink his plans and send out reconnoiters to find them. Such patrols will be risky, as the woods are full of Nightlanders and their allies."
After a short time, they heard the galloping of horses ahead. Milo turned and smiled. "I know my Shara's gallop. She is leading the Stonecoats to us."
Max's forehead scrunched. "Are you sure she isn't leading back a Nightlander patrol?"
"She would lead the enemy over a cliff before sending them to me."
Shara rounded the corner and neighed when she viewed Milo. A squad of Stonecoats followed close behind, their armor glinting in the sunlight. Crimson blood smattered their plate mail, and one man had deep gashes and dents around his side and chest.
"Milo, have you the Kin?" asked one of the Stonecoats. He sounded shocked, as if he'd thought Milo dead. The warrior smiled and blood gushed from his nose, where something had smashed into his face and broken the bridge.
"Yes, Cetus. What of the battle?"
"We managed. After you rode off to rescue the Kin, only the Disembowelers and a few Zumbaki remained. We regrouped with the main Meridian Army up the path. Lucky for us, some came back and helped us. We worried when Shara returned without you."
"How many casualties?"
"Considering the possibilities, not too bad. We lost Barton. Romden and Pratus are injured, and two of the Meridians died. Aside from my nose and a couple of scrapes, that's about it."
"Which Meridians?" Max blurted out.
"Alas, dear Kin," Cetus said, "I did not get their names. We are close to where we have regrouped. Let's move in haste, as the woods are not safe."
Milo heaved himself back on Shara and gave his arm out to Shelby. She accepted his help, and he hoisted her up behind him. Cetus followed suit with Max. With Shelby and Max situated, they raced along the path.
When they arrived, Healer Beekman and his helpers were attending to the many wounded. A glum Barrick sat while his arm was bandaged. He appeared better than most, though an enormous flap of flesh had been torn from his triceps. Shelby shuddered at the sight of muscle underneath.
Vilaborg immediately straightened. "Milo, you have returned with the Kin."
"Actually," Milo said, "Throg had the two Kin saved by a Leshy. He has also found the missing Kin, and they're traveling to us. Just a few hours away according to the Leshy."
"We have been unable to locate Throg. Presage could not link with him, and the messengers sent out have not returned. You couldn't pick a better guide than Throg, though."
Several Stonecoats approached, patting Milo on the back, congratulating him and expressing gladness at his safe return.
"Thank the druids. We feared the wors'," Cumber said, relieved.
Shelby walked over to Barrick. His spirits seemed lifted but he still carried a defeated face. She refused to look at his mangled arm as she sank down beside him. "Barrick, are you okay?"
"Aye, I am fine, dear Shelby. I cannot say the same for Sol and Dukas." He sounded despondent, and winced as the healer sewed his wound closed.
Max and Shelby bowed their heads in sorrow. They'd lost men already. Shelby bit her lip. This wasn't a dream. She'd known it from the moment Stuart battled the Minotaur, but the reality stung. People had died today.
Presage, who had been speaking with another soldier a second before, disengaged and approached them. "They fought valiantly, and they will be remembered. We are at war. Focus on the positives. We must unite the six Kin and transport them to Meracuse, where they can strike up communication with the Assembly in safety, and find some way to connect with the Sphere. I'll send out reconnoiters to bring them in, and attempt to establish a link with Throg again, although that will be
difficult—his mental shields are up."
Mr. Dempsey joined the conversation. "Presage, I was curious, as morbid as this may sound, why Malefic would risk keeping the Assembly alive in the first place?"
"A very simple reason, Mr. Dempsey: when an Aulic Assembly member is killed, their power to operate the Sphere is passed to their link. And since we have all six Kin, Malefic will hold the Assembly alive, if only to keep us from using the Sphere."
Mr. Dempsey nodded. "From what I understand, the Aulic Assembly must be together to operate the Sphere. Is it in Meracuse?"
"Yes, the Sphere is in a secret chamber there."
Milo walked over to Presage and motioned him aside. Shelby could hear them speaking, though. "Presage, I suspect a spy in our midst. This ambush was too well planned to be random."
"This possibility I must consider." Presage turned his head.
Shelby caught his gaze wandering to Casselton, who stood grieving over the covered bodies of Sol and Dukas.
Presage called Vilaborg over to him. "Vilaborg, I am curious. Who operated the mobile portal when you were in the Cark to retrieve Zach?"
"Why, Casselton did. He is very experienced with the portal."
"Correct."
For a moment, Vilaborg looked confused. Then his eyes widened and he frowned. "No, Presage, Casselton is a seasoned interceptor. He is loyal to Meridia. I grew up with him. Such a thing is not possible."
"I question not his loyalty to Meridia."
Presage walked over to the grieving Casselton and placed his hand on his shoulder.
"I've known them since the third level of education, when I transferred in to Pictor Academy."
"It is terrible to die without warning in an ambush, dear Casselton."
Casselton shifted his gaze to Presage, tears drizzling down his face. Gore and grime covered him head to foot, but he appeared unharmed. The blood was not his.
"I am to blame. In my selfishness, I caused this." Casselton clenched his fists to his chest, shaking.
The Silver Sphere Page 13