by Steven Novak
Coming to a complete stop, she took advantage of the lull to catch her breath and slow her rapidly beating heart. She sat in the thick mud and rested her hands on her knees. Breathing deeply, she closed her eyes and felt the falling rain wash over her body. It was such a wonderful sensation. Hanging on every drop was the sweet odor of the trees. The crispness of the outside air filled her lungs, traveled to her brain and cushioned the awful memories of the day’s madness like a soft pillow. The wonderful, unending silence seeped into her ears, filling them with a beautiful nothingness that she welcomed like a long lost friend.
For a brief moment, Zanell forgot everything. There was no Tipoloo or saviors from another world. No evil King or invading armies that left dead bodies scattered across the streets of the only place she had ever called home. For a second, her mother and father were alive and well, as was her grandfather. The red forest was once again her home rather than her tomb.
During this fleeting hiccup in time, Zanell understood that her life had been forever changed.
The spirit of something more than herself boiled up inside her stomach and spread over her. Something new and different instantly rooted underneath her skin, pushing out with incredible force. Ideas and thoughts that belonged not only to her but also to someone else filled each and every pore in her body. With these fantastic ideas came ethereal warmth. Zanell slowly opened her eyes. Suddenly everything looked different – softer – as if the universe had been dipped in a heavenly white cloud. In an instant, she saw everything, everywhere, always. Tommy, Donald, Pleebo, the Prince and his father, worlds she did not know existed, and situations she could never have dreamt. Suddenly she knew how everything began and she understood how it would one day end. She understood her grandfather’s words, not only why he told her to run, but every single cryptic, confusing sentence he had ever uttered during the course of her young life. As improbable as it seemed to her, there was no denying that this was the sight beyond sight and it now resided in her.
She was the Elder.
A slight grin formed on her soaking wet face. Grandfather had been right all along. There was, in fact, great beauty in endings.
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CHAPTER 35
REVOLUTION
*
Immediately after General Gragor had left the dungeon to catch up with the soldiers carrying Nicky and Staci, the remaining Ochan flashed a sadistic grin at Fellow Undergotten. Pulling a long broad sword from a sheath strapped to his back, he slowly ran the sharp blade across the steel bars. The clank of metal upon metal echoed through the dank dungeon passageways.
“You know, I was a part of the invasion party that finally overtook Chintaran,” he growled mockingly.
With his back to the cold stone of the cell wall, the pain of his broken ribs slowly cascaded across his chest, Fellow straightened up, gazing angrily toward the hideous Ochan.
The soldier smiled brightly, lifting his sword to his face and carefully examining its contours; he remembered fondly the many he had killed in the King’s name.
Turning his attention once again to Fellow, he spoke softly through a wide smile. “Your people fought well, creature. You should be proud of them. Even your children. Such a feisty bunch. They showed considerable bravery when they tried to go toe to toe with trained Ochan warriors, despite being so heavily overmatched. If it had not been so much fun, I would almost be tempted to say that it was a shame that we were forced to slaughter them the way we did. Bravery, no matter how misguided, is still commendable…is it not?”
Scalding hot images of those lost in the war flashed in the deepest recesses of Fellow’s mind, causing his blood to boil and his heart to race. Using the wall as a brace, he pushed himself to his feet and removed his hand from his sore chest.
Upon seeing this, the soldier’s smile widened further. “Yes…yes, indeed. This is the look. This is the look I remember so fondly. Such a rare and wonderful thing is a look of defiance these days. Too many of you have become complacent with your situation. Too many of you have accepted the inevitability of your fate. You have given up. You walk into the slaughter with dreary, tired eyes. I miss the defiance you showed when we first arrived in your worlds.” The Ochan unlocked the cell and slowly opened the door.
Assuming a battle-ready stance, he chuckled with giddy anticipation. “It’s much more rewarding to take the life of a creature when it wants so badly to live.”
In every cell throughout the dungeon, tired, hungry prisoners pressed their faces against the steel bars. Some went so far as to attempt to wedge their heads through the chilly metal in order to get a better view of the situation that had escalated between Fellow and the soldier. The stories of Staci’s power, Fellow’s words, and General Gragor’s orders to kill had spread like wild fire among them, passing in hushed whispers from cell to cell. Hope mixed with anger and lathered in a thick urgency had spread among them. It infected them and had grown at an astonishing rate.
Fellow Undergotten felt the growing tension in the dungeon as the soldier slowly approached, anxious to kill him where he stood. It was palatable, heavy and real. Fellow had been born a builder and in his heart he would always be a builder. In the years since the war began, though, he had changed into something very different. The madness of war had morphed him. Like a shapeless lump of clay, it had twisted and molded him into something else, fired him with an intense heat and hardened him to stone. Everything he had experienced and seen, the tears he had shed, had succeeded in preparing him for this moment.
Throughout the dungeon came the heavy rhythmic sound of hands beating against the bars. The cries and howls, bordering on screams, of nearly a hundred different species from nearly a hundred different worlds rose up, bounced off of walls and shot like daggers in every direction. The uncommon sound of life in a place so accustomed to death drew the soldier’s attention away from Fellow for a fraction of a second as he turned toward the ever-mounting ruckus.
That fraction of a second was all that was needed for Fellow to strike.
Ignoring the pain in his chest, he lunged forward, slamming the entire weight of his body into the soldier’s heavily armored chest. The pair tumbled out of the cell and into the hall. Like a rowdy crowd at a prizefight, a mighty cheer rose arose. Pinning one of the soldier’s arms to the floor, Fellow wedged it underneath his knee and sat on the Ochan’s chest. With his free hand, he threw punches at the creature’s exposed face, each blow landing flush, eliciting a deep, guttural grunt from the squirming soldier. The muscled Ochan was bigger and stronger, though, and with every passing moment he slowly inched himself out from underneath Fellow’s body. Snaking one of his arms loose, the Ochan managed to grab a small dagger strapped to his thigh. Bridging his body, he used Fellow’s momentum against him and shoved the enraged Chintaran off his chest. In the scramble, the Ochan drove the dagger into Fellow’s scaly hip – violently grinding it against bone as it sliced through the moist flesh. Fellow yelped in pain, rolled away from the soldier and pulled the dagger from his side. His eyes caught a glimpse of the lever that was used to unlock the cell doors and realized that he had to reach it. Ignoring the pain shooting through the right side of his body, he crawled as quickly as he could in its direction. Every movement was a symphony of pain. His jaw clenched shut, his teeth ground together so hard that he could almost feel them crack and break against each other.
“Ignore the pain and keep moving. Ignore the pain and keep moving.”
He repeated the mantra over and over in his head. The gaping wound in his side left a long trail of blood across the stone. Reaching behind him, he covered the gash as best he could, pressing hard. The warm, thick liquid of his insides seeped between the cracks of his fingers. Looking up, he saw that the lever was only a few feet away – just a few more feet.
“Ignore the pain and keep moving. Ignore the pain and keep moving.”
The soldier grimaced, shaking the cobwebs from his fuzzy head. He wiped a trickle of blood from a large cu
t above his eye, stood and retrieved the sword. He followed the trail of blood toward the end of the hall and found Fellow Undergotten.
The wobbly-legged fish man was standing upright, leaning against the wall near the locking mechanism for the cells. His eyes were glassy, a waterfall of blood gushing from his side. On his face was an unstable, shaky, defiant and distinct smile. It was the smile of a creature that did not simply want to live, but hungered for victory. It was a smile that the Ochan soldier had not seen in years.
Fellow grabbed the locking lever, tugging it downward. One after another, in perfect synchronicity, the heavy locks on every cell popped open with a deep, echoing clank. A wave of starved, multi-colored flesh prisoners, both in front and back of the soldier, converged on his position. The enormous, moving, breathing, angry mass of snarling creatures folded in on him like the mouth of a great hungry beast.
Fellow’s legs gave way to the arduous strain of trying to remain upright. He slid against the wall and fell upon the stone floor. Somewhere down the hallway he heard the Ochan guard scream briefly before his voice was muffled by the attacking horde. Fellow’s mind wandered back to the home that he had built with his own two hands, to the ocean where he had watched his nieces first learn to swim, to his brother Leeko, who had been his best friend. He recalled with immeasurable sadness how it had all been taken from him. He remembered watching his house burn to the ground and how he had buried his brother with his family in the sea near the ash of the place he had once called home. He remembered these things and wept deeply in his heart.
It would be so easy.
Giving into the blurriness that overtook his vision would be effortless. It would be so simple to let the loss of blood coax him lovingly into unconsciousness and eventual death, but he knew that he could not, not yet. There was still work to do, children to rescue, and a world to save.
Fellow took a breath and held it. He pulled himself to his feet, using the locking lever as a brace. He scanned the crowded. The angry mass of creatures crammed into the dungeon, having their way with what remained of the Ochan soldier’s corpse. Their various faces all had one thing in common. They looked rejuvenated, angry and ready to fight. In a different life that seemed far away, Fellow Undergotten had been that simple builder. Things had come full circle. Once more he would be a builder. He would use the rejuvenated spirits of these prisoners to build a revolution.
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CHAPTER 36
THE GREAT ESCAPE
*
Nicky Jarvis continued to kick, squirm and struggle against the enormous Ochan who clutched him tightly to his chest. In a last ditch effort, he had tried to bite the soldier’s arm but succeeded only in chipping a tooth on the creature’s thick skin. Wrapped tightly in the arms of the soldier next to him, Staci Andrews remained motionless, lost somewhere within herself, unable to cope with what had happened since she chose to follow the Jarvis boys into the woods. The soldiers lugged the children out of the dungeon and through a long winding hallway and into an elaborately decorated open chamber with a ceiling nearly twenty stories high. General Gragor was behind the soldiers, moving with surprising speed for one with such a massive frame.
After catching up to the group, General Gragor tapped one of the soldiers on the shoulder and said in his deep grave voice, “I’ve changed my mind. Take them to the courtyard. I want every single slave to see these two die. I want them to witness firsthand the color of their blood as it seeps from their severed heads. We need to remind these things of their position in the hierarchy of the Ochan nation.”
Squirming sideways, Nicky glanced over the soldier’s shoulder toward General Gragor.
The massive Ochan General glared back at him, grinning. “If you have something you feel the need to say, little one, please, share. I suppose even a mutt such as yourself deserves a chance for final words.”
Nicky said nothing, choosing instead to simply scowl. Once again his tiny body flailed wildly in the soldier’s arms. General Gragor’s grin turned into a full smile as he chuckled – albeit underneath his breath. He was anxious to be rid of these bothersome pink creatures – anxious to put an end to what they represented.
“GENERAL! GENERAL!” The voice came from a doorway at the far end of the chamber. A fully armored soldier sprinted across the massive room and came to a sliding stop. “General, I have urgent news!”
General Gragor glanced at the children briefly, then back to the soldier. “Is it so urgent that it can’t wait a few moments, Lieutenant?” He wanted to kill these meddlesome children - so much so that every muscle in his body jittered with anxious anticipation. The Prince had delayed their execution far too long as it was.
“Extremely urgent, sir, yes.”
General Gragor sighed, disappointed. “Then speak…but be quick.”
The young Lieutenant found it difficult to turn his eyes away from the children. The stories of their arrival had spread throughout the fortress. As he saw them now - up close – an odd mixture of interest and cautious fear overtook him. But on top of it all there was disappointment – disappointment that so many of his fellow soldiers seemed to entertain the possibility that these pathetic creatures could be the downfall of his great Ochan nation. General Gragor noted the manner in which his Lieutenant eyed the children. It served only to further his resolve toward killing them as soon as possible.
Annoyed by his Lieutenant’s inattention, General Gragor grabbed him by the chest plate, violently pulling him close. “I suggest that you tell me what it is you need to tell me right this minute, soldier…before I decide that you should share the same fate as these disgusting creatures.”
The seriousness in the General’s voice and the expression on his face was successful. “Yes, yes, of course, sir…the regiment stationed inside the doorway to Tycaria, sir…”
“The seventh division, yes…what about them?”
“They’re gone.”
“What?”
“They’re gone, sir.”
General Gragor released his grip and stared at the helmeted head of the young soldier quizzically. “What do you mean they’re gone?”
“They missed their scheduled checkin last night, so a messenger was sent and found only corpses.”
Time stopped for General Gragor. He found it impossible to formulate a response. It had been years since the Tycarians had offered any sort of resistance. The seventh division was comprised of his finest battle-tested warriors. He knew, of course, that what had been left of the Tycarian army had scattered into the mountains, probably being led by their pathetic King. The groups were believed to be small in numbers and hardly capable of decimating an entire regiment, even if they had managed to combine their forces for a single, large-scale attack. There was another, more pressing question that he was unable get out of his head – Why there, and why now? He glanced at the two children that were wrapped securely in the arms of his soldiers. They were so innocent looking, so utterly pathetic and useless. What a fitting disguise for harbingers of death.
Prince Valkea might be able to ignore the coincidences cropping up on a regular basis, but he could not. Not now, not with so much on the line. The Prince had specifically ordered him to keep King Kragamel in the dark about the arrival of the children, but it was a stupid, petty order given by a juvenile Prince who had proven time and time again to be little more than a disillusioned child desperately seeking his father’s approval. It was an order that General Gragor could not in good conscience keep.
Turning toward his Lieutenant, he stiffly placed his gloved hand on the young soldier’s shoulder. “I need you to travel to Ocha immediately. The King needs to be informed of everything that has happened here. Take three men with you as well as whatever provisions you think necessary. Ride through the night. Do not make a single stop. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir, of course…but, what exactly should I tell him?”
General Gragor looked at the children once more – so small, so weak
- so dangerous. They were dangerous not just for what they could or could not do, but more importantly for what they represented.
If the Prince was unable or unwilling to put a stop to this travesty before it went any further, he would. “Tell him that the day he so dreaded could very well be upon us.”
The young Lieutenant saw General Gragor glance at the children. He also looked at them with the same disgusted fear as did his General. He understood the urgency as he headed out of the chamber the same way he had entered.
Young Nicky Jarvis listened intently to the entire conversation and stared into the eyes of the imposing General Gragor with a renewed defiance. Though he really did not understand what was happening, he saw the concern buried deep inside his enormous captor. Just understanding that the monstrous creature was as frightened of him as he was of them made the boy feel better.
Never once averting his gaze from the young boy, General Gragor broke the silence. “Take them to the courtyards. I’m putting an end to this nonsen…”
His sentence was interrupted by the sound of a collapsing door. The heavy crack of splintering wood brought forth the shattering of his control over the land of Fillagrou and shot through the castle, signaling the start of a great battle. In a single, swift motion General Gragor, pulled the sword from his back and readied himself for battle. From the corridor which led to the dungeon, a massive living tidal wave of anger, armed with the battle cries of a hundred different dialects spoken by the released prisoners, flooded the room. At the front, with a piece of fabric knotted tightly around his waist to stop the bleeding was the reborn builder turned revolutionary, Fellow Undergotten.
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CHAPTER 37
UNLEASH THE DOGS OF WAR
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As he peered through a thick layer of foliage at the large group of heavily armored, very mean looking Ochan soldiers a few hundred yards away, Donald Rondage could think of only one slightly sarcastic thing to say. “All right then…so I guess we’re pretty much screwed then, huh?”