The Sleeping King

by Cindy Dees

  Of course, it went without saying that Anton’s real goal was to find and seize for himself the fabled Boki treasure of the Forest of Thorns.

  Perhaps worst of all, Anton had declined to bring along a single Heart healer on this unofficial expedition of his. Not only did he likely wish to avoid the Heart reporting back to the Empire through its own channels on this escapade of his, but Leland also suspected Anton hoped the majority of his force would die out here beyond the help of resurrection. Two birds brought down with one stone. Anton would have his treasure and his glory, and he would rid the colony of many of its most troubling bandits.

  Leland glanced across the tent at Selea, lounging indolently in the corner. The nulvari showed no reaction to the latest report of a small party of outlaws moving deeper into the forest. But surely the irony was not lost on him, either. Aurelius, on the far side of the table, was outwardly composed, but Leland thought he detected a hint of tightness about the solinari’s jaw.

  Another one of Anton’s petty revenges—insisting that the three of them travel with him … to witness the end of all their hopes and dreams for freedom in their lifetimes. Oh yes. Anton had been more than happy to include Aurelius and Selea in the expedition when they’d unexpectedly shown up in camp two nights ago, to rub their noses in their failure thirty years ago and in his triumph now where they had failed. Whoreson.

  Anton was gleeful at the news of the latest sighting. “A night march tonight and we shall finally catch some little fishies in our net.” The governor’s sly gaze landed on Leland. “What on Urth could fugitive outlaws be after out here?”

  Leland shrugged as casually as he could muster. Anton knew as well as any of them what the adventurers attempted. Anton was merely under the mistaken impression that the treasure they sought was monetary. In that, at least, Leland held a trump card over the governor.

  Anton continued, “We can’t have rogue bandits running around like this provoking petty wars with greenskins. We must crush these renegades. And we must teach all the heathens of this barbaric land a lesson about who rules this place.” Anton’s voice rose. The governor did love to get himself all worked up. “I say when and where my subjects may go. No one breathes in these colonies without my permission!”

  Krugar cleared his throat. “Your mercen—men—have been on forced march for the past three days. They will be dropping in their boots by the morrow.”

  Anton waved a careless hand. “Cull the weak, Captain.”

  Krugar tried again. “If we move in force to capture this party of outlaws tonight, we will likely engage Boki. I have no exact count of how many orcs are out there—the scouts I sent out to get a head count are overdue on their return.”

  That threw a damper into the gathered leaders of the various groups of thugs that formed Anton’s cadre. Boki were formidable warriors. The usual practice was to count one Boki as the equivalent of five seasoned Imperial soldiers. Who knew what the odds would be against this cobbled-together force, however? Given the bandits’ lack of experience working as a single, disciplined military unit, Leland guessed the Boki counted more realistically at eight to ten of Anton’s men to one of the orcs. And they were defending their homes, most dangerous foes indeed.

  Renewed worry for Kendrick and his companions stabbed Leland. If a substantial orc force had moved to intercept the little party of adventurers, their situation was grim indeed. Boki before them, Anton’s mercenaries behind them.

  The parallels to last time were eerie.

  Thankfully, Anton was not so worked up yet that he could not hear reason. The governor scowled at Krugar. “Very well. We will wait for your scouts to return with a Boki head count. And then we move to grab the renegades.”

  Leland sent an urgent plea out to the party, so young and inexperienced for the task laid upon them. Run, children. Fly like the wind.

  * * *

  Will slept heavily, and the others seemed to do the same. Dawn found him feeling worse than ever, but it mattered not. When Rosana would have examined his health, he batted away her hand, forced himself upright, and plodded on once more.

  They journeyed deeper into the Forest of Thorns, and a wilder and more primordial place he had never seen. Even if he tilted his head back and stared until he became dizzy, he couldn’t make out the sky through the towering maze of distant limbs. If all the members of their little band joined hands, they still would not circle the mightiest of the trees growing in this place. When he laid hands on them, their black bark was as hard as steel, their spirits older than time. If they lived at all, their greenery was so far overhead as to be invisible beyond the limbs above.

  The tree roots posed a formidable obstacle. Many of them stood waist high, smooth and sloping and too wide to gain purchase upon. The travelers resorted to boosting and hauling one another over the largest of them, but it made for slow and tiring going.

  The eyes of the forest never left them. Will felt its gaze constantly and jerked at the slightest sound, grabbing for his staff so often he finally resorted to carrying it in front of him at all times. He noticed that Cicero did the same with his bow and even Rosana clutched a dagger in her fist as they scrambled, climbed, and crawled through the tangle of mighty roots.

  An ambush here would be ridiculously easy to spring upon them. They were forced to rely on the silence of the place and Will’s own, odd, intuitive feel for the nearness of orcs to know when danger was nigh.

  Every few hours, an internal warning fired in his head and he signaled the others to dive for the nearest hiding spot, waiting in tense silence for they knew not what to attack them. Before long all of their nerves were frayed.

  In the afternoon the forest primeval gave way to slightly smaller girthed trees. And, with the increased light from above, carpets of ferns and velvet moss took hold. The resurgence of green and growing things marked a return of life to this place, and Will breathed a deep mental sigh of relief.

  He muttered to his other self, “Tell me you’re not one of those monsters in your original form.”

  He sensed a grunt inside his skull as if those had been mere saplings behind them.

  Rosana startled Will by asking, “You talk to self again?”

  He sighed. “No. I’m speaking to Bloodroot.”

  “And he speak back to you?”

  He caught her worry, but answered evenly, “Not exactly. I get impressions. Feelings. But not actual conversation.”

  She looked vaguely relieved. “My teachers always tell me, ‘Never speak to voices in your head.’”

  It was Will’s turn to wax sarcastic. “And did they teach you anything else?”

  “Yes. Never ever accept power from voices in your head.”

  Will didn’t know whether to worry or laugh. He was not possessed … he hoped. The powers Bloodroot had given Will were helping them. Without his new ability to find forest tracks, or speak to the animals, or his immunity to the charms of dryads, they would never have made it this far, nor would they be on their way to the Great Circle itself.

  He said lightly, “Obviously, your teachers never had a tree spirit stuck to their chests.”

  Rosana shook her head, her dark gaze worried. “It come to no good, Will. You mark my words. Someone get hurt before this finish.”

  He responded lightly, “With you here to look after us? Never.”

  She snorted. “Raina, she make me look like amateur healer. If we live through this, she will be cause of it.”

  Will glanced over at Raina, who was impatiently blowing a wayward strand of hair out of her face and looking more like an awkward adolescent than an arch-mage at the moment. He asked under his breath, “How powerful is she?”

  Rosana shook her head. “Never have I seen like her. And I see plenty big healers and high-magic casters in my day. She, how you call, a freak.”

  “Well, at least she’s our freak, eh?”

  Rosana shrugged, not looking especially thrilled with that concept. He reached out and rubbed the back of his
knuckle down the line of her cheek. “You’ll always be my favorite healer.”

  “You big flirt, Will Cobb.”

  He grinned at her, doing exactly what she accused him of. “And you love it. So no complaints from you, my gypsy rose.”

  The blush that leaped to her cheeks and the sparkle that lit her eye were a sight to see. He drank them in eagerly, storing them away in his memory against a time when he and Rosana might be apart. Although it was becoming increasingly hard to imagine a single day without her cheerful countenance and steady warmth at his side.

  The tree-giants grew more scarce, and a rather more normally proportioned forest sprang up around them. But with it came increased danger. Nearly every hour one of their scouts signaled for them to take cover.

  Over a cold snack of raw, edible roots and dried strips of smoked rabbit meat, Eben and Cicero discussed in whispers battle tactics appropriate to their party’s experience and abilities. Will worried periodically that the colorful jann might be some sort of spy. He kept taking all those side excursions by himself ostensibly to hunt. But for all they knew, the elemental creature could be laying a trail for Anton and company to follow straight to the party.

  The whites of Sha’Li’s eyes showed continuously, a sure sign that she was deeply uneasy. Even Rosana and Raina, normally whispering up a storm with each other, fell silent as the afternoon waned.

  Just after sunset, as they began to search for water and a place to hunker down and hide for the night—for it could no longer rightly be called making camp—an unearthly noise echoed through the air all around them. Part roar and part screech, it was deafening and froze all of them in their tracks.

  Cicero roused himself first, pointing up toward the sky and signaling frantically for them to take cover. Crouching under the arching boughs of a white pine tree, Will did not see what passed overhead. But the slow, rhythmic whoosh of enormous wings made him exceedingly glad that he did not.

  When the creature had passed, the party huddled together. Raina was first to whisper, “What was that?”

  No one replied. Cicero finally said reluctantly, “If I didn’t know better, I’d say that was some sort of draconic creature.”

  Will’s eyes about bugged out of his head. “You’re saying that dragons really exist?”

  The kindari shrugged. “I’ve never seen one myself, but I’ve heard stories.”

  Will retorted, “And there’s one in these woods?”

  Another shrug from Cicero. “Not my home woods. I could not say.”

  Sha’Li piped up, “Green I thought I glimpsed as that creature flew over.”

  The elf frowned. “Lore has it that the green dragon is asleep. If that is true, then the green’s minions should not be out and about, either.”

  Sha’Li snapped, “Supposed to be asleep is this king of yours, too. And yet, a wakeup call we are here to give him. Maybe for your dragon someone did the same!”

  Cicero scowled. “The green is not mine. She is the province of the zinnzari.”

  Will noted that Raina’s head snapped toward the kindari at that remark, but she said nothing. What was a zinnzari, anyway? Some other magical creature he’d never heard of?

  Unnerved by that unearthly scream, the party was too jittery to stop. They continued on grimly in the dusk.

  * * *

  Leland was lying on his cot, trying unsuccessfully to catch a nap before whatever this night brought, when one of his men burst into his tent. He jerked upright. “Has a scout returned with a head count on the Boki?” he asked tersely.

  “Aye, m’lord.”

  Leland grabbed his sword belt and, as he strode out of his tent toward Anton’s, buckled it on. He had a bad feeling about this.

  The scout had only just reached Anton’s headquarters and clutched his side, muddy and panting, trying to catch his breath enough to give his report. Leland glanced around quickly. Aurelius and Selea were already there. They must have stayed after the earlier meeting for dinner with Constantine. They were braver than he to dine with the devil.

  Anton snapped at the scout, “Give me your report now. If it’s satisfactory, I’ll see you healed if you keel over!”

  The young soldier panted, “War party. Boki. I counted fifteen. Found their camp. Here.” The scout stabbed at the map spread out on a folding table. “They were packing up to move. Heavily armed. Lightly armored.”

  Leland had never known the Boki to wear a lot of armor. The orcs had their own tough hides to protect them. He frowned. Only fifteen? That didn’t seem right.

  As Anton’s face lit with glee, Leland grimaced. The governor would not appreciate him throwing a bucket of cold water on this good news. Nonetheless, the lives of his men were at stake.

  He sighed and cast himself upon his proverbial sword. “My lord governor, this report worries me.”

  Anton’s gaze swung to him, a thunderous frown gathering on his brow. “Why say you so?”

  “Only fifteen? Surely, they know full well that we are a force five hundred strong out here. Why would they send so few? Even they cannot be so arrogant as to believe that is a sufficient number of their kind to defeat us.”

  Anton’s cheek twitched in irritation, but Leland continued doggedly.

  “They bait a trap. They dangle a small force before us to entice us to attack. Were our scouts to press deeper into the forest beyond this party, they would find the main body of the Boki force. I’ve no doubt that force is sufficient to crush us all.”

  “You whine like a frightened old woman, Leland!” Anton snapped. Constantine cast a furious gaze around the tent at the others present. “Gather your men and prepare for battle. We march on the Boki now.”

  Desperate, Leland started to protest, but Anton cut him off with a sharp slash of his hand. “Follow my order, Hyland, or we shall pause long enough to hang you from the highest tree I can find.”

  Leland was careful not to look over at Aurelius or Selea. This was exactly what Anton had done the last time. He’d come out here seeking treasure, unaware that the only treasure was a sleeping king, not gold and jewels. But as soon as the Boki had shown up, Anton couldn’t resist the temptation of winning glory in battle.

  Of course, back then few had realized the true might of the Boki. But this time Anton had no excuse. He’d met the orcs in battle. How many of Anton’s men would not survive this night? A hundred? Two hundred?

  The potential loss of so many sickened Leland. Even if they were the lowest of the low, they were still people. They had families and loved ones. And many of them would die this night because Anton refused to listen to reason. No man had the right to let his arrogance cost so many so much.

  Anger hardened in Leland’s gut. If he survived this fiasco, he would take action against Anton. Leland knew not how or when, but he would see the man taken down if it was the last thing he did. And likely it would be the last thing he did. For to attack the governor was to attack the Empire itself.

  So be it.

  * * *

  Will blinked awake, disoriented. Why was he lying on the ground? Raina was crouching over him. His arm tingled painfully like tiny needles were stabbing it. She must be healing him. Not that it would do any good. She muttered low, “Anton’s men are almost upon us. Can you move?”

  “Do I have any choice?”

  “Sha’Li could probably carry you and keep up.”

  “I’ll stand on my own two feet.”

  “Let me give you a little more healing before you get up. You’re as weak as a kitten.” Raina’s hands and arms glowed nearly to her shoulders as she pulled in a particularly large charge of energy. He braced himself for its pain, but she was getting quite good at pouring it into him with a minimum of discomfort. Either that or he was too numb with exhaustion to feel anything. As the magic jumped into him sharply he gathered into enough energy to sit up. Raina reached for his arm to help him to his feet, but Rosana intervened smoothly.

  “I’ll take care of that,” the gypsy murmured. She
startled him by throwing a little healing into him as well. Anton’s force must be really close for Rosana to have done that. She stepped back and Eben and Sha’Li unceremoniously hoisted him to his feet.

  “Run now if you would live, human,” Sha’Li muttered into his ear. “Otherwise, that disk I’ll cut out and your remains leave for the Imperial jackals.”

  With Cicero leading the way, they took off into the night, running for their lives. They didn’t bother countertracking. He noted also that Cicero did not set a steady, sustainable pace. This was an all-out sprint. Anton must have been no more than a stone’s throw from their position.

  Old man, if you can help me, now is the time to do it.

  Of course, Bloodroot was actually the source of Will’s progressive weakness and illness. A human body simply wasn’t strong enough to withstand the spirit of a tree lord. What had Bloodroot been thinking to choose Will for a host? Not that the whoreson cared if he lived or died, Will supposed, as long as he got home.

  They ran for fifteen minutes or so, stopping only a few seconds at a time to listen for pursuit. Sha’Li snapped for them all to have respiratory failure less loudly so she and Cicero could hear. Will did his best to comply, but his head felt as if it would split in twain and white spots danced before his eyes.

  Cicero was the first to murmur, “I hear troop movements. Sounds like they’re deploying for a battle.”

  Sha’Li nodded. “Aye. Forming a line Anton’s men are. About to engage the Boki he is.” She added under her breath, “Idiot.”

  Eben said grimly, “They should remain occupied with each other for some time. We need to put as much distance between them and us as we can manage.”

  Will dutifully followed the others as they took off racing through the trees. Even Rosana had no trouble outpacing him. How he kept up with the party he had no idea. Probably a combination of panic and sheer, stubborn determination to survive.

  Will’s muscles screamed for rest. His mind screamed for escape from this nightmare. He wanted no more part of this quest. He wanted to go home. To crawl into his bed in the loft of his parents’ cottage. To wake up in the morning to the smell of bacon frying and hear his parents’ cheerful voices. But the night and the trees and the terror stretched on and on, a black, never-ending abyss that had swallowed them all.