Maxwell's Closet

by Steven Belskie

  His features were soft and his face chubby. He was not a fat man but, perhaps, a bit rounder than most. The heels of his fine leather boots sank deeply into the soft mud with each step he took.

  “Dear king, are we ready to now make our agreement?” Blaise’s father called out.

  “In due time. In due time, we shall. But there is much that needs explaining. I still do not fol—” He stopped short, staring behind the king.

  “Victor? Is there a problem?” Blaise’s father said, addressing the other king. “I do apologize. This is my son Blaise, my knight Sir Maxwell, and their friend-”

  “Ava.” Victor spoke.

  Blaise, his father, and Max exchanged confused looks. They stared back and forth from King Victor to Ava.

  Ava’s mask of stone was cracking. Her emotionless façade was being overwhelmed. Her lips began to quiver as her eyes watered, and tears began to stream down her face though she fought with all her might to repel them.

  Victor simply stared at her, his own eyes watering and a smile crossing his face. Ava lost control as she ran to Victor and flung her arms around him. Heavy sobs issued from her as she buried her tear-drenched face into his shoulder.

  She withdrew her head from his shoulder and looked into his eyes.

  “Father” she whispered softly before collapsing again into tears.

  Chapter 14

  The camp was alive even before the break of dawn. Soldiers hurried to and fro, packing supplies and preparing weapons for the march ahead. Giant vats of stew simmered in the middle of the camp. These were manned by a dozen or so cooks that ran back and forth testing each one. Never were they pleased, and each time they would grimace before throwing in a handful of spices and hurrying to the next pot.

  From high above in the tallest guard tower Max and Blaise surveyed the situation. The scurrying people looked like little more than ants from such a height. The things they dragged were crumbs left by the giant people. They scrambled, hauling the food as quickly as they could, perhaps fearing the giants would reclaim it.

  From this post the insignificance of it all was alarming. The sword strapped across a soldier's back was little more than a stick. The shield he carried on his arm was a dot. And even the war he prepared for was little more than a ripple in the ever-flowing river of time.

  Max looked out upon the camp, his eyes staring but not seeing. A blank expression was all that met Blaise’s gaze. No emotion sad, happy, or otherwise could be read.

  “What consumes your mind, my friend?” Blaise spoke, hoping to peacefully rouse Max from his trance.

  For nearly a minute Max made no acknowledgment of the question. Blaise began to look away, resigned that he would have no answer, when Max began to slowly turn.

  “It is my heart, not my mind, that is consumed. Burned by dragon fire, my heart aches for healing.” Max now clearly showed emotion. Despair and heartbreak covered his face like a thick quilt, sewn together piece by piece to provide a sheet that light could not penetrate.

  “What do you speak of, Max?” Blaise looked with concern at his friend

  “I speak of Ava. She has refused me.” Blaise stared on, saying nothing, allowing the silence to invite Max to continue. “I went to see her last night, to talk to her. When I arrived, the guards barred my entrance to her tent and they refused to summon her out. “

  “Naturally, I attempted to tell them that I was her friend, but they assured me she had ordered no one to be let in. After I argued with them for several minutes she must have heard the commotion and came to investigate.”

  Max spoke as he watched the rising sun. The rays sprang up over the horizon, lighting the camp below him. Shadow fled like sheep from a wolf, as light flooded the new day.

  Both men stood in silence as the world outside the camp came to life. Birds could be heard fluttering through the canopy, singing in celebration of the new day. Monkeys leapt from branch to branch screeching and hollering at the alligators that lay in wait below. Two eyes and a snout were all that could be seen of the massive predator biding its time until a monkey slipped and fell into the swamp below.

  “I had no idea you had grown so close to her in such a short time.” Blaise spoke sympathetically.

  “In only minutes I spent an eternity with her. Few were the words we spoke, yet forever did our souls converse. Our eyes met and we saw the very depths of each other. All was still. All was calm.

  “And yet as she arose from the tent she ordered me away. She said that what had happened between us was nothing more than a happy accident. Everything she had said to me was when she didn’t know if her father was still alive, if she was still a princess. But now that she knows the truth she could never be with a commoner like me. It was improper and inconceivable. Foolish, I believe, was the word she used.”

  Blaise placed his hand on Max’s back and spoke. “You see them all down there. How small they seem. They are all fine warriors, skilled and grizzled by battle, and yet from here we see that they are powerless; they are puny. Surely anything of true strength could overwhelm and crush them back into the form they were before they entered this world.”

  Five hundred men walked in perfect order through the knee high sludge. Their armor, which had been polished in the morning hours, was, after only minutes, filthy and slimy with unsavory grime. Each man held his spear down into the water to ward off any alligators that might lie in wait beneath the murky surface.

  Max waded through the swamp. To his left walked the king and to his right, Blaise. Both men stared silently ahead. Their minds calculated what lay ahead. The battle played over in their head. Screams and death filled their minds. When the battle finally came they would be prepared. It would be like a movie to which they knew every line.

  The king stared straight ahead, but his attention was to the man on his right. He watched from the corner of his eye as Max slogged through the water. The king had seen it when the fire light had first shown his face. This was not the child he had sent forth from his chamber. Sure, he was still Max, but he was profoundly different. He had left a boy and returned as not just a man, but as a hero. His determined and resolute stare gave tell to the inner strength Max had gained. The king marveled how such a lad could have achieved so much. He wasn’t even a Tenton knight, but of course the king had known that all al—

  The king’s train of thought was interrupted by a shout from up ahead.

  “ORCS!” The shout carried up and down the column as small stumpy creatures emerged from the water below. They popped up everywhere. They surfaced even inside the column of men.

  Some had small weapons; swords and axes, but most were unarmed and simply threw themselves at the soldiers, gnawing and biting. The commotion and promise of fresh meat was drawing the attention of the swamp’s inhabitants.

  On the outskirts of the battle were dozens of pairs of glowing yellow eyes and long protruding snouts. The alligators waited for someone to lose their footing. Then they pounced. They shot from the swamp, mouths agape. Their massive jaws splayed open, rows of razor sharp teeth glinting. Their mouth would snap shut like a guillotine, crushing whatever prey lay between their teeth. Thrashing about, they would squeeze any life that remained from their victim before dragging him down to feast.

  Chaos had erupted in the column. The order of lines and squads had all but broken down. Soldiers ran this way and that, rescuing their comrades from the jaws of the gators, or sending an orc to a watery grave. The orcs’ attack was doing some damage, but the superior fighting skill of the soldiers was keeping the death toll very low. But the orcs just kept coming. Even if ten fell for every one soldier killed there was no end in sight.

  Max thrust his spear into the exposed armpit of a charging orc and watched as its flailing body disappeared beneath the water. He was having a hard time maneuvering to meet the attackers that came from every side. Each turn was difficult as the slimy ground threatened to move out from under him.

  Max fought valiantly, throwing himself at wa
ve after wave of orcs and cutting them down. He sustained many minor cuts and bruises but escaped any potentially mortal wounds. His sword cut down the orcs like grain before a sickle, but soon he began to press too far. His strength was limitless and it seemed too easy.

  As he turned to block the strike of another attacker he saw that he had been cut off. Seeing that he had realized his mistake the orcs stopped their attack. Each one smiled, showing a row of hideous and discolored teeth that shot out at every possible angle.

  They drew small wooden clubs from their belts and began to close the circle around Max. Without warning they leapt. There were just too many. The relentless clubbing was taking its toll on Max. Even as spots of black assaulted his vision he still struggled on. Max heard a crash behind him and turned to see a rather large orc moving through the water toward him. Max was too dazed to react, and he could only watch as a giant bludgeon swept through the air and crashed into his skull. The last thing he saw was the swamp water coming up fast to meet him.

  Blaise broke the protruding shaft of the arrow that was lodged in his arm. He grimaced in pain, the sharp barb digging into his flesh. He called for a medic to remove the arrowhead and patch him up.

  The fight was over. A handful of orcs were still being pursued, but there was no danger. The dead so far had been counted at fifteen, and the final number was expected to be near two dozen.

  A partially submerged log was an inviting bench for Blaise’s weary body. Without his weight pressing down upon them his legs seemed almost to sigh in relief. His lungs sucked in deep breaths of the putrid air. His heart beat in his chest. It pounded against his rib cage, struggling to escape.

  The medic arrived and removed the arrowhead. Fresh blood began to pour from the wound. Several bandages absorbed the flowing blood. The medic instructed Blaise to keep pressure on it before he moved off to tend the other wounded.

  As the medic left, Blaise mumbled his thanks. He called out to Captain Griffin, who was speaking to a group of men not far from where Blaise sat. The captain quickly wrapped up his conversation and headed over to Blaise.

  Blaise had known Griffin for most of his life. They had played in the fields and forests as children, swearing that one day they would be champions of the people. Griffin had always been the better soldier. Quick as lighting and strong as an ox, there wasn’t another soldier in the whole army who could stand toe to toe with him.

  For all his skill in battle he was a gentle, kind man and a loyal friend. He had fought in many battles and seen more death than anyone. Yet he still was quick with a joke, or a smile, just when it seemed everyone had fallen to despair.

  Blaise knew that in the battle ahead, perhaps the war ahead, that they would need men like Griffin. He was a fearless example for his men to follow. He wasn’t the greatest tactician, but what he lacked in intelligence, he made up for with his ability to inspire those who fought beside him. His men would follow him to the jaws of hell and lay down their lives if he asked it of them.

  “What are the final casualties?” Blaise called out. A slight wince of pain mingled with his speech.

  “It’s getting tough to tell.” Griffin spoke without emotion. “The alligators have gotten to a lot of the dead. Torn them to pieces or eaten ’em whole. We can’t tell which body parts belong to which soldier, so we are starting to reorganize the men and we’re gonna take roll.”

  “Have you seen Max or my father?”

  Griffin scratched the stubble on his chin as he thought. “Your father is up near the front talking to the generals. He received a few nasty cuts but he refuses to let the medics take a look. He should be fine though. Your father was never one to let a mortal wound get in the way of anything.” Griffin smiled, showing his straight white teeth that looked almost too large to belong to a human.

  Blaise chuckled and felt the stress of the battle wash away from him. “You haven’t changed a bit, Griff.”

  Griffin sighed. “Ain’t nothing changed really. War comes and war goes. We are still fighting the same fight, eh? Those that want to do good against those that only know how to do bad. Only thing that might be different; I don’t know if we can win this time.”

  This sobering statement shocked Blaise. To hear it from Griffin’s mouth was unexpected, to say the least. Perhaps there was more to his childhood friend than he had realized. There was a depth he had never explored, and now, sitting on the edge of battle, he knew he might never have the chance to explore it.

  “What of Max?” Blaise remembered that Griffin had given no word of him.

  The captain shook his head. “Nothing. No one has seen him since the battle has ended. I’m sure he’s fine. He certainly could handle himself against the orcs. Even I don’t think I would want to face that guy.”

  Blaise informed Griffin that he would be back and took off, thrashing through the water toward his father. He drew the attention of nearly everyone around, but he paid them no attention. His father looked startled as he saw his son hurtling him like a stampeding animal.

  “Where is Max?” Blaise shouted.

  “He is not with you?” The king understood his son’s anxiety.

  “No. No one has seen him. We must find him.”

  “Excuse me, Your Majesty.” One of the generals standing beside the king spoke. “Our scouts reported that the orcs were escaping with a captive.”

  Realization dawned on Blaise. “That has to be Max. That was the whole point of this attack. They weren’t trying to win the battle. They only wanted to capture him.”

  The king did not speak as the gravity of the situation settled on him.

  “We must send someone after them. He must be rescued.” Blaise spoke, out of breath.

  “No. We can’t send anyone out. We must press on with the attack or our allies will reach the battlefield before we do and they will be slaughtered.”

  The king turned to his son. “They will be taking Max back to the castle. If we break through their lines we will be able to rescue him.”

  “WHERE IS THE KING?” A shout sounded from behind them. They turned to see King Victor storming up through the swamp. Lines of worry ran across his face. He shook visibly and sweat poured down his face.

  “They have taken my daughter.” He paused, struggling to hold back tears. “Whatever help you need, my kingdom shall bring. My full army shall ride out to meet the monster who has taken my flower from me. I must leave now, but we shall meet again on the field of battle and we shall make these cowards pay.”

  Victor stormed off and made ready to leave. The king turned to his generals.

  “Let’s get a move on. We are well behind schedule.”

  Horns sounded across the swamp and the army began to march.

  Chapter 15

  Max awoke. Chains wrapped around his body like snakes. They held him in a standing position in his cell, which was little bigger than a broom closet. He attempted to wriggle free but they held like vice grips and he couldn’t move even an inch.

  He heard laughter from outside his cell. It was dark and coarse. Max thought it must be an orc. A pair of bright red eyes twinkled through the small window in the cell door. The creature was having a good time watching his struggles.

  A rattling of keys was followed by the clicking of the lock. The door swung slowly open and in the door way stood his orc guard. The orc smiled at Max, showing a collection of disgusting teeth that were covered in moss and mold.

  “It’s time to go.” The orc unchained Max and grabbed him roughly. He threw him out of the cell and began prodding him down the hallway with an eight-foot spear. Max tried to think of a plan to escape, but he knew overpowering the guard would be impossible. The orc kept his distance. There was no way Max could get past that spear without getting a nasty prick.

  Resigned to wait for a new opportunity to escape Max allowed his mind to go blank. He vaguely realized that he was being led through the same hallways that he and Hunter had gone through on the way to see the king.

  Max
was ushered out of the floating castle into a balloon waiting for his arrival. Once he was aboard, the balloon descended quickly. There were four rugged soldiers manning the balloon, but Max took no notice of them.

  When he arrived on the ground an escort of armed guards took him to the main gate protecting the city. Looking out over the once green and lush fields surrounding the city he saw nothing but death and ruin. The villages that had dotted the countryside only a week earlier were little more than smoldering piles of ash.

  Bodies were piled high across the fields. The mounds of decaying flesh were burning, but not quickly enough. The fumes lifted the smell high into the air and were an enticing perfume to the crows that circled overhead.

  Awaiting his arrival on the wall was a familiar face. Adorned with solid gold armor and elaborate jewelry it could only be one person—The Merchant.

  “Hello Max. It is so great to see you on this fine evening. You are just in time for quite a show.” The Merchant smiled wide, displaying a perfect collection of sparkling white teeth.

  Max said nothing in response. He only stared with ire toward the golden clad man standing before him.

  “Why so angry, my friend? I truly have a treat for you here.” The Merchant motioned to a row of half a dozen covered objects that ran down the length of the main wall. Each one was large, perhaps four feet high and seven feet long.

  The Merchant grabbed the heavy sheet covering the one on the far left and tore it off. Beneath was one of the most startlingly complex contraptions that

  Max had ever laid eyes on. A series of springs, levers, and gears were built into a framework of solid wood.

  The Merchant snapped and the other sheets were removed, revealing five more identical machines. Max was still uncertain as to their purpose but judging by the menacing look and the piles of long pointed spikes that accompanied each machine; he guessed they spelled bad news for his friends. Two men manned each machine. At the Merchant’s orders each team loaded one of the spikes into their weapons and began to coil the springs by turning the levers this way and that until the maximum firepower had been reached.