He spoke in a hushed tone as he kept an eye on Brodeur, who was consoling Morgana. "I believe the Assembly is being held near the Canopus Hills. Your link mentioned the valley, and the witch specified the Shattered Woods. Plus Baku said they were close to an ancient battleground. It's possible your fellow Kin must have had contact, and you are right. With things being this dire, Presage may well be headed to the Canopus Hills." He rubbed his hands together.
Zach nodded. "So we should go to these hills as well?"
"Yes, Brodeur might want to continue onto Vixen, but maybe not. I don't think he is a thief, and if he is, he wasn't always. Although her time with us will be dangerous, we cannot allow Morgana to roam the woods alone, so she must accompany us." Throg stood.
Once they were agreed, Throg walked over to Brodeur and the girl. "Are you well enough to travel, Morgana?"
"Sure. I want to get as far away from this place as possible." She stared down into her cup.
Throg turned to the thief. "Brodeur, we may need to part ways. We altered our plans, and will not be heading to Meracuse."
Brodeur nodded, sipping tea. "Where are you going, then?"
"The Canopus Hills. We believe our friends may be traveling in that region." Throg poured the rest of his brew onto the ground.
"Well, I'm not sure if Vixen is even standing right now, and I realize it might not be safe to poke around these woods by myself with war breaking out. Let me finish my drink and think a bit. Am I welcome to join you?"
Throg nodded, though Zach sensed he wasn't sure about Brodeur's company. They both judged Brodeur as trustworthy, but sending him away with their plans in his head was risky. However, the larger their group, the more likely they would be spotted. Still, Brodeur had proved useful when they rescued Morgana.
They packed their belongings and put out the campfire. Smoke sizzled as Zach dumped dirt over the flames. The woods were quiet, as most of the animals that had tried to escape the earlier blaze were long gone. Zach sniffed the air. Thunderheads rolled over the sky, mixing with the black smoke rising from Drake's forest.
Brodeur approached Throg. "I got some friends I can visit up in the village at Canopus. Also, I know a secret spot to stop at along the way—a hidden cabin up near Aventail Point. The nickname is the Spangenhelm, and the place is well stocked with armor, weaponry, and dried goods. We will need to replace whatever we borrow when we can, and add some extra as a fee." He slung his bag over his shoulder.
"Who monitors the Spangenhelm, and what if we didn't reimburse the stuff?" asked Throg.
"Honor among thieves." Brodeur cast a wink.
They traveled on the sides of a path, out of sight of the road. The terrain grew rougher, yet they did not want to be open game on any of the direct roads. After an hour's journey, they caught a glimpse of a figure scurrying down the trail in their direction. The man carried a backpack with a bevy of arrows sticking out of the top.
"He's traveling alone," whispered Brodeur, "and our company is four. I think we should stop and ask him if he has come across anything peculiar up ahead."
Throg nodded. "I'll step in the path, and you will keep a finger on your string."
The figure bustled along closer to them. He resembled a beaver and wore a stolid expression. Throg moved onto the course and placed both his open hands at hip level.
"Good day, traveler. I am curious as to the road ahead. Strange things have been occurring in the woods."
The man stopped short and studied him. "You can say strange again. Bedlam replaces sanity. In a week's time, Meridia seems to have collapsed." He shook his head and shifted the sack to his other shoulder.
"What do you mean?"
"Dear sir, perhaps you have camped in the Cark the past week? Degei has fallen. Ardent's fallen. Lancer's fallen. Even Halcyon's been pillaged. I'm a Fletcher in the village Marbank, which the Nightlanders ransacked yesterday. They are in full force, and have overwhelmed the Meridian Army. All Meridians of good health are being called to defend the capitol, the last large city standing. An enormous Nightlander host is marching to Meracuse as we speak."
Throg cast his eyes at the ground and back at the Fletcher. "I suspected as much. The villages behind me endured the same fate. Did you encounter any Nightlanders from where you came today?"
"Nay, a few scattered patrols, but from what I gather, excess Nightlanders are ordered to storm the capitol."
"Well, be careful on your journey. It is not safe to travel alone, and I suggest you stay off the main path."
"Some friends of mine are not far from here. Godspeed to you," he said, and then with a nod, he scampered past Throg up the road.
"Unbelievable," exclaimed Throg, stroking his goatee. He worked his way back into the brush on the side of the trail, where Brodeur, Morgana and Zach waited.
Brodeur stepped from behind the tree, his arrow still nocked on his bow. "I've never heard of this swift an offensive by the Nightlanders. It's obvious the Aulic Assembly has been disabled, and the Silver Sphere inoperable. The Nightlanders wouldn't be able to overwhelm an army as efficient as Meridia's without Biskara's assistance, and the truth seekers would never allow such a thing to happen unless no one had summoned them. Lord Achernar must have called the Kin, so some hope should remain." He sighed deeply.
Throg frowned. He was watching the way the Fletcher had gone. After a moment of silence, he spoke. "All is not lost, Brodeur, I can assure you. I need to know your history if you are to travel with us. I suspect banditry is not your entire life."
"Ah, yes. I hailed from Candelaria, to the west. I came to Meridia in my youth and joined the Auxilia for some time, then settled down for a bit, actually in Meracuse. I ran with the Blunderbuss centurions. I have traveled alone a few years, thieving mostly, but I lifted from those with abundance, and only the nasty ones." He took his arrow off the string and placed it in his quiver. "And now, if you'll return the favor, why are the Nightlanders looking for you?"
"For the time being, let's just say we are friends of Lord Achernar and are on a mission to assist him." Throg placed his arm on Zach's shoulder.
Sounding aghast, Morgana cried, "How? By what means did this happen so quickly? One of the strongest countries in the world fell to chaos in such a short time."
"This well-orchestrated attack is under Biskara's care," Throg said. "Left unchecked, Biskara can send his son information on where the Meridian forces are advancing, their weakest points, and when to strike. They would literally be one step ahead of us at all times."
Brodeur nodded. "We need to keep going and get to the Spangenhelm. No sense anguishing over things we cannot control."
Throg walked over to Morgana and placed his hands on her shoulders. "I promise you all is not lost. Shocking, a setback—I agree. You have suffered greatly, but you are not alone, and this revolt is not over."
Zach soaked in the situation, continuing his osmosis of Azimuth. Again, he felt relieved to have found Throg, and he was comfortable with Brodeur. Morgana's plight saddened him, however. She had seen her father slain and her home destroyed. The anger in that alone gave him motivation to persevere in the battle against the Nightlanders.
They trudged on for a few hours. On their walk, Brodeur informed Zach about the Blunderbuss clan, a freewheeling band of soldiers living in the woods. They sounded like an honorable gang, Zach thought, as he pushed past a low-lying tree. He held the branches aside for Morgana and Brodeur. Still holding a branch, he peered around. The forest was quiet, save the sound of birds and small animals scurrying about. He refocused and followed the others as they approached the crest of a grassy knoll.
Brodeur smiled. "Ah, right past the hilltop here." He pointed as he picked up his pace.
They hurried up the mound. Zach slid a bit on the pine needles littering the ground, and righted himself. When he reached the top, Brodeur and Throg were already in place. He offered a hand to Morgana, who shook her head.
"Spot the entrance?" Brodeur asked with his hands on his hi
ps.
They all stared down the knoll and spotted nothing except four large oaks towering in a circle. The ground was soft and grassy, but otherwise unchanged from the woodlands floor. Beyond the four oaks, the forest continued, a massive ocean of pine and oak trees. Hills rose further yet, and in the distance, a few jagged peaks rose.
"I don't see anything," said Throg, squinting.
"Well, the place wouldn't be hidden if the door was out in plain sight, now would it?"
They followed Brodeur down the slope and up to the front of one of the large oaks. He pulled down on a small but thick branch protruding out of the right side of the tree. A crunching, creaky sound reverberated from the wide trunk as the center pushed forward. Brodeur placed his fingers into the creases of the jutting wood and swung the core open. Inside, a staircase descended into the darkness. They all looked at Brodeur, impressed.
"The tree is actually bogus, made by a mentor many years ago. I'm not sure who originally obtained access to it, but the thing is old. I learned about this hideout when I was running with Blunderbuss."
He lifted a dormant torch out of the inside wall and lit it with a flint. After motioning them forward, he descended the stairs.
Zach discerned the orange glow of the torch bobbling over Brodeur's head, but noticed several carvings in the wood on the walls as he passed them. He read one and smiled. "Gurny was here." It was the same as the stalls in his school's bathroom. Thinking about home made him wonder if Adrian was doing all right. He hoped his friend was safe. Safer than me, ha!
They reached the bottom and Brodeur lit several other torches to illuminate the room. The antechamber resembled a medieval armory. Wooden panels made up the walls, nailed together with thick, metal spikes. Weapons of all kinds hung from hooks, and several chests and trunks were neatly tucked to the sides. Although a bit dusty, the room was surprisingly clean.
Zach took in a breath of air, tasting a mixture of dust and aged wood. He breathed deeply again, and smiled.
"Okay, now," Brodeur said, "everything we'd want is here. From bardiches to morning stars. I already spy an arbalest I plan on taking. Its steel bow can pierce most armor. In the chests should be tunics, breeches, cloaks, garnaches, and gloves in almost every size. We may also be able to find chud and water, perhaps some wine. Out of respect, we need to clean the room, and pledge an oath we will replace what we use plus bring additional useful items as payment, when we can."
They all nodded in agreement and began going through the trunks. Morgana found a pair of brown leather pants and a chestnut-colored tunic. She changed behind a large chest, and emerged with the first smile Zach had observed that day. Her new apparel fit as if tailored for her.
Zach had less initial success hunting for a change of garb. He eventually came upon olive-colored suede trousers and a brown tunic, which fit nicely, and a leather breastplate that he placed over his tunic—comfortable, yet tough and well suited to travel the rough terrain.
Throg approached them with a pair of oxhide knapsacks. "Here, fill this with extra clothes. We might need them. Also grab some food and water. Whatever you like that may come in useful—and isn't too heavy—go ahead and take it." He plopped the knapsacks down on a chest.
Zach pulled down a sword mounted on the wall, and marveled at how comfortably its handle fit in his hands. Its silver blade shone in the flickering torchlight. The iron pommel contained a single, inlaid, fist-sized ruby. The scabbard was black suede with a sheepskin interior.
In its place, he left the short saber Throg had given him.
Brodeur strode by and placed some items in his bag. "That's a bastard sword. Good choice for a primary blade. You can wield it with one hand or two."
Morgana picked out a rapier and a bow. Zach walked over to her as she conversed with Brodeur. The bow was a finely carved weapon, with vines of ivory inlaid in the dark red wood along its front. A leather grip, the right size for Morgana's smaller hand, had been secured around the bow.
"This bow is similar to the ones from this region," Brodeur said. "I am happy to hear about your skill with a bow. It will come in handy, I assure you. Did all the girls in your village learn to use one?"
"No, my father taught me. He said archery would be a good trait to have for hunting and self-defense in case...." She sighed. "In case something happened to him."
"It sounds like your father was a wise man. He will be avenged."
"I won't rest until he is," she hissed. Her tears were gone now, fiery doggedness replacing the grief of the girl they had rescued.
After a few more minutes of jostling around and looking for items of interest, Brodeur insisted they all clean the space. They finished, and the chamber was organized and free of dust.
Zach wondered about the last time anyone had used this armory. He watched as Morgana wiped down a carved etching in the middle of the room that read, "The Spangenhelm."
"We will rest now for a couple of winks, make some tea, and be off," said Throg as he pulled out the teapot from Brodeur's bag.
Zach withdrew a small dagger he had fancied and walked over to the end of the stairwell. Underneath one of the torches, he tidily carved, "Zach was here." He stepped back when done and grinned. Morgana approached, stood next to him a moment, and inspected his carving. She accepted the dagger from him and etched, "So was Morgana." She smiled again, a warm and pleasant simper, and handed the knife back. Zach wished she would smile more. It fit her naturally.
"I didn't tell the others, but my father taught me to use a bow because of a seer. She came into town and gave my father a reading for a meal. She told him a battle was coming and training me was important. My uncle grunted at the notion, and I thought my father agreed. But the next morning, he took me down by the river and began teaching me. Every sunrise for the last several months, I learned both archery and fencing. Spooky, huh?" She shot him a saddened glance.
"No, I don't think so. This seer had the ability to foresee trouble. With your country at war, those skills are indispensable." He placed his arm on her shoulder.
Suddenly, she hugged him. It was a surprising embrace, which he returned, though his face reddened. They had been through the wringer, and it felt good. When she released her grip, she gazed at him, her cheeks flushed.
"I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me. I'm comfortable in your company, and I don't even know y-you. I, I...."
"No need to apologize. I needed a squeeze as much as you. I could always use a good hug these days." He grinned.
Brodeur walked over with a wide smile, holding a large ham in his right hand. "This ham is cured with salt. It can hold for a long time. Be careful not to eat too much though. It will make you thirsty."
He pulled out a blade and sliced several layers off. He gave them a few slices each and wrapped the rest up and placed it into his bag.
The Spangenhelm sparkled. The chamber still had an earthy yet pleasant scent; they had wiped down all the chests and weapons, and Morgana even swept the floor with a diamond-handled broom and a golden dustpan she had found. Those, it seemed, were permanent residents to the Spangenhelm. Some gift from a thief, no doubt, who wanted to repay his dues.
"All right," Throg said. "We picked up supplies, weapons, fresh clothes, and we rested. Now, comfortable as the Spangenhelm is, we must leave. Our breaks should be frequent but short." He slung his knapsack over his shoulder.
They agreed and headed back up the stairs through the throat of the phony tree. Brodeur doused the torches with a wet rag as he followed, and they came out of the opening one by one. Brodeur swung the hinged trunk closed, as they all marveled at how authentic the tree appeared. Even knocking on the trunk, Zach couldn't tell it wasn't real. The wood was so thick it didn't sound hollow.
Afternoon light flooded the knoll as they continued their sojourn. Morgana sidled over to walk beside Zach. Her elbow brushed against his arm.
Stuart and Max pulled out the extra clothes they carried to replace Simon's tattered rags. The garments were a
little baggy, but Simon seemed to appreciate their dryness and comfort. After a few pieces of chud and some water, his pasty green complexion turned rosy and stronger.
They allowed Simon to lead the way as they traveled. After two hours of silence, he stopped.
"I need to rest a bit," he said. "I am weak, and my throat is getting scratchy. Do you mind if I make a fire and boil water for broth?"
"Sure," Riley said. "We don't want you passing out on us. I carry a small teakettle in my knapsack." She fished around for it.
They all grabbed some dry wood and shrubs. Shelby took out her flint and struck the two rocks together, which produced sparks and the pleasant sight of flames.
Simon stepped back from the warmth and scanned the area. "Usually, the woods are abundant with castor leaves and sander roots, both good for broth and a sore throat. I should be able to find some here."
Shelby stepped toward him. "Okay, I'll go with you, but stay within a few yards of the campfire. We need to remain close."
He nodded, and they walked in the vicinity counterclockwise as Simon checked the leaves of small trees and knelt in front of some plants, inspecting them.
"Do you know if they demanded my father to provide information for ransom or anything?"
The straightforward question surprised Shelby, and she thought through her words carefully. Simon was mature for his age and should be aware about his father, but she hesitated and wondered if the others would care if she decided to brief him on her own. She determined that lying to this boy would not be right.
"Simon, I do want to tell you some things. We held back at first because of your condition. You're stronger now, and I'd want to know if I were you. The Nightlanders held you as ransom and told your father to botch up his duty on the mobile portal for his assigned Kin, and to report the whereabouts of the current Kin, or they would behead you. He did what they asked and admitted his fault after an ambush. He is in custody, and will be taken to Meracuse to be tried fairly. We all feared greatly for your safety. I think Presage will put a good word in. He seemed sympathetic."
The Silver Sphere Page 17