by Steven Novak
Tommy noticed a large and unusual amount of movement in the courtyard near the center of the great structure. “Wait a minute…do you see that?”
“What is it, kiddo? I don’t see anything,” Roustaf replied.
“There, in the center…there’s something going on.”
Nestor pulled a pair of binoculars out of his leather satchel and focused his attention on the area that Tommy had pointed out. Throughout the entire structure, small battles were being waged between Ochan soldiers and creatures from a variety of different species.
“Keen eye, son,” Nestor commented. “It would seem that the Prince has a bit of a slave revolt on his hands. This might be exactly the diversion we need.”
Tommy quickly slid alongside Nestor. “Can I see those for a second?”
“Of course, lad.”
Nestor handed the boy the binoculars before he spoke to the others. “If we can figure out a way in, this would be the ideal time to strike. With the Prince’s guards spread out as they are, this is an opportunity we can’t afford to let pass.”
King Walcott nodded in agreement as did Roustaf and Pleebo. Though terribly frightened, Donald did his best to disguise his fear, smiling when he nodded. Owen gulped deeply, wishing for the five-hundredth time that he had never followed Donald and his goons into the woods.
As the rest of them discussed how they were going to get inside the fortress, Tommy was busy scanning the entire structure, looking for any indication that his little brother was or had been there. He stopped scanning when he noticed a large, ornately dressed figure ascending a winding staircase to one of the castle’s towers with Nicky and Staci in tow. Not only was Nicky alive, Tommy now knew exactly where to find him. As if a switch flipped on somewhere deep inside, the beating of the young boy’s heart doubled in pace. His breathing rapidly increased, his jaw clenched tightly while a renewed feeling of determination mixed with furious anger washed over his body.
Dropping the binoculars , Tommy said with determination, “We have to get in there now.”
As he completed his sentence, the gray sky above rolled with a deep, bellowing thunder. Cloud cover thicker and more menacing than the one it was replacing slowly settled over the brooding sky. Its size, thickness, and foreboding color indicated beyond a shadow of a doubt that a mighty storm was brewing. Off in the distance the wind whipped and whistled, rattling the trees and shaking the soil from which they grew.
The entire world of Fillagrou prepared for the coming of this great first battle. The players found their marks. The audience settled in. The house lights dimmed.
All that remained was the drawing of the curtain.
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CHAPTER 43
THUNDEROUS BOOM
*
Prince Valkea passed through the massive doorway leading into his throne room, still dragging the flailing and screaming bodies of Nicky and Staci behind him. He strode angrily across the floor, depositing both of the children against a wall. Smacked against the stone, Staci fell into a violent, uncontrollable coughing fit. Staci had struggled to breathe while being dragged up the long staircase with her shirt pulled extraordinarily tight against her neck.
Ignoring her obvious discomfort, the Prince moved toward the window at the far end of the room and glanced at the vast courtyard. Below, his soldiers were engaged in various forms of armed and unarmed combat with escaped slaves and prisoners. The sound of clanging swords and pained screams filled the night air as a soft drizzle descended from the thick, dark menacing clouds. While he watched the battle play out, the first thoughts to enter Prince Valkea’s mind were thoughts of his father. What would the cranky old cretin think if he could see what was going on within the fortress walls right at this moment? The young Prince could only think of one answer - disappointment – unending, unrelenting, disappointment. His failure to maintain control over even the weakest of enemies would at last confirm every concern his father had ever raised about his ability to lead.
He would be seen as weak. Worse than that, he would be seen as a failure.
Though Prince Valkea was confident that his forces would eventually overwhelm and regain control of this pathetic revolt, it would make no difference to his father. The uprising should have never happened in the first place. The damage had already been done, and disgrace had been wrought. What was done could never be undone.
The Prince turned away from the window and spoke to the children through clenched teeth, “It’s quite astounding really…when you think about it. How two pathetic…useless looking creatures such as yourselves could manage to create such havoc by doing so very little is astonishing.”
Nicky and Staci huddled close together, backing themselves into a corner as the Ochan Prince steadily approached. A flash of lightening cut across the sky outside, casting deep ghastly shadows across Prince Valkea’s dark green face.
His voice was low and steady, filled with a rage so deep that it built to a crescendo. “You’ve ruined everything, you know. Everything that I have spent my life working toward, everything that I have built…the two of you have erased it from existence in a matter of days. This is quite an accomplishment from your standpoint. From mine, though, it is an unforgivable act of war.”
Prince Valkea grabbed Nicky’s shirt, lifting the little boy into the air violently.
In conjunction with the sudden movement his voice raised exponentially, now on the brink of a scream. “Quite unforgivable indeed…and for this most grave of indiscretions you must be punished!”
With Nicky dangling in one hand, the Prince removed the dagger from his belt with the other. Nicky tried in vain to wiggle free as Prince Valkea hurried toward the window. Staci protested as loud as she could, running toward the prince at full speed, punching him with one hand while wrapping the other around his leg, doing everything within her power to stop him. .
Prince Valkea glared at the girl and yelped, “INSOLENT WHELP!”
Kicking his leg angrily, his foot sent the young girl airborne. Sliding across the floor, she slammed into a nearby wall with considerable force.
Prince Valkea then shoved Nicky through the open window. Young Nicky Jarvis suddenly found himself dangling a good twenty stories above ground. He instantly stopped squirming; he feared the thin fabric might rip and send him tumbling to his death. Prince Valkea placed the tip of a dagger against Nicky’s throat.
Hot breath snarled through the tiny nostrils on the front of his flat face as Prince Valkea screamed across the courtyard for all to hear. “HEAR ME NOW, YOU WHO DARE TO REVOLT! HEAR ME NOW AND HEED THE WORDS OF YOUR PRINCE AND MASTER! HERE IS YOUR SAVIOR! HERE IS THE CHILD THAT YOU FOOLISHLY BELIEVE WILL BRING YOU FREEDOM!”
The blade of the dagger cut slightly into Nicky’s skin, eliciting the smallest amount of warm blood, which rolled down his neck, into his shirt, and onto his chest.
“WATCH THIS BOY DIE AND REMEMBER THIS MOMENT WELL! LET HIS END REMIND YOU OF YOUR PLACE IN THIS WORLD! LET HIS DEATH SOLIDIFY TO YOU WHO INDEED IS MASTER, AND WHO IS SLAVE! WATCH THIS BOY TAKE HIS FINAL BREATH AND PREPARE YOURSELF TO SHARE HIS FA…” The Prince’s voice quickly trailed off as his eyes caught a glimpse of an incredible sight over the darkened horizon.
Sailing through the air at an incredible speed was an enormous rock. Not just any rock. It was a rock so large that no creature or contraption from any of the known worlds could have tossed it with such force. The rock was so large and heavy that it crashed through the wall with relative ease.
The shattering wall shook the ground, sending enormous blocks of stone flying in every direction. The massive boulder bounced across the courtyard, leaving colossal divots in the ground, crushing several Ochan guards underneath its weight. The rock came to a stop only after colliding with the castle’s thick brick wall. The collision rocked the fortress back and forth from base to tower like an earthquake. Prince Valkea stumbled into his throne room. Both he and Nicky fell to the floor. The castle still vibrated while Nicky scurri
ed to Staci. Once the shaking subsided, the Prince angrily rose to his feet, stumbling awkwardly to the window once again. He arrived just in time to see another massive boulder sail through the air, heading directly for the outer wall of his fortress. Right behind it was a third and behind that a fourth.
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CHAPTER 44
AND SO FORTH UNTO THE BREACH
*
Prince Donald Rondage strained terribly as he hoisted yet another mammoth stone above his head and tossed it at the fortress at the base of the hill. To watch the young boy lift such an incredible weight and throw it with such ease was as amazing a sight as Pleebo had ever seen.
After the fourth stone smashed into the fortress wall, reducing it to little more than airborne pebbles and a cloud of dust, Nestor screamed, “Well done, child, we have our opening! Everyone aboard! We have to move quickly!”
Nestor and King Walcott positioned themselves near the edge of the cliff. Lying flat on the underside of their shells, they tucked their limbs inside the protective exterior, leaving their heads exposed.
Buried deep inside his shell, King Walcott’s heart pounded. An incredible amount of fear was building inside him, mixed with the excitement over what he was about to do. The result was a feeling that was both wonderful and terrifying.
King Walcott glanced at the massive cloud of dust that had been created by Donald’s tossed boulders. He then looked at Nestor and smiled. “Not since I single-handedly faced the Talax Griffin and recaptured the sacred Mud Chalice have I felt so alive, old friend!”
The look on Nestor’s face was the same.
In a careful, honest voice Nestor responded, “No matter what may happen from this point out, Sire…I feel it my duty to inform you that it has been the greatest honor of my life to fight alongside you these last few days.”
King Walcott paused, letting the falling rain cascade over his face, taking a moment to admire his most loyal of soldiers. “No, my dear friend, I assure you…the honor has, indeed, been mine.”
Subtly the Tycarians nodded to each other. The gesture was slight, barely noticeable in the rapidly darkening sky and heavily falling rain. Despite its simplicity, both recognized and understood it completely. The admiration was mutual.
Realizing that time was running short, Nestor turned his attention back to the task at hand.
He barked at the others, “We must hurry! Take your places!”
Just as they had discussed moments ago, Donald and Owen crawled on top of Nestor’s slippery shell. Lying flat, they tightly grabbed the leather belt. Pleebo and Tommy climbed on top of King Walcott and did the same. The drizzling rain had slowly progressed into a full downpour, drenching the ground around them, making everything slick and dangerous. Once the Tycarians were convinced that their passengers were securely attached to their shells, King Walcott and Nestor slowly rocked their massive bodies back and forth. Each motion moved them closer to the edge of the cliff. They soon found themselves teetering between solid ground and open air.
With his heart beating painfully against his ribs, Owen Little tightly shut his eyes. Though a part of the young boy wanted to look, a more dominant part decided that it simply was not going to happen. Fluttering just above the ground behind them, tiny Roustaf shook his head in disbelief. The plan they had put together – what they were about to do – was completely insane even at its best. Despite the fact that every movement of his wings caused incredible pain throughout the upper half of his body, he was glad he had them. Flying down to the castle was going to be an exercise in pain. If the only alternative, however, was riding down the side of a mountain on the slippery backside of a Tycarian shell, he would take the pain of flying.
With the weight of his shell moving away from the ground and over the edge of the cliff, King Walcott held his head back as the weight of his shell moved over the edge of the cliff. He screamed at the two passengers hanging loosely on his back, “HOLD ON, MY FRIENDS! HERE WE GO!”
A moment later King Walcott’s body was sliding down the side of the muddy hill, picking up speed. Dirt and rock flew into the faces of Tommy and Pleebo as they lay perched atop his slippery-slick back. Spinning wildly in circles, they continued to slide at an almost ninety-degree angle, tightening their grip on King Walcott’s belt strap. Occasionally the underside of his massive shell hit a lump of dirt, propelling all three of them momentarily into the air. To his right Tommy spotted Owen and Donald bouncing crazily on Nestor in much the same fashion, both boys screaming at the top of their lungs. Though the falling rain obscured his vision noticeably, Tommy saw that the cloud of debris was getting closer. The massive cloud seemed to grow significantly larger and more imposing with every second. The closer they got, the more massive it seemed. After bouncing off another particularly sturdy mound of dirt, the threesome hung in the air for several seconds before crashing to the ground yet again.
At last the cloud engulfed them. King Walcott’s shell lost momentum, slowing and skidding to a halt after he had extended his rear legs, digging them into the muddy ground, using them as a brake. Both Pleebo and Tommy lurched forward, rolling off King Walcott’s back into the mud. The dust around them was thick. The falling rain was heavy and the visibility was next to none. What they could not see, they could most definitely hear. The sound of chaos surrounded them – awful screaming - downright frightening chaos. The clash of steel, the tearing of flesh, the terrifying symphony of war bombarded their ears from every direction.
For Tommy, getting to the tower and finding his brother was his only goal, but finding his way through the cloudy madness was going to prove a more difficult task than he had anticipated.
“Take my hand!” Pleebo yelled as he extended his long bony arm. “In this case, I have an advantage that even you don’t, lightning boy!” he said, his free hand pointing at his enormous red eyes.
Tommy grabbed his hand as Pleebo led him slowly through the dust toward the tower. Now on his feet, King Walcott followed close behind while scanning the debris cloud surrounding them for any sign of Nestor and the other two boys.
Unlike the great King Shellamennes, Nestor had allowed himself to continue skidding across the ground until he had passed through the massive dust cloud to the other side. Coming to a stop, he and the boys found themselves surrounded by the insanity of war. Battles between Ochan soldiers and prisoners were taking place throughout the courtyard. No less than a second after rolling off Nestor’s back, Donald spotted a pair of Ochan soldiers advancing on their position. Nestor saw them and quickly rose to his feet, pulling the long broad sword from his side. He retrieved a dagger from his belt, tossing it gently to Donald.
In a steady serious tone he half-smiled at the young boy, “Remember this moment, lad…from this point forward …everything changes.”
Donald may not have understood the meaning of the words but he was seconds away from learning.
For Owen Little, the images of tripping over his own feet while running the track in gym class, getting tossed around like a useless rag doll during flag football or any of the other thousand times he had proven his lack of athleticism, flashed in his head while he shuffled in the opposite direction. His one and only goal was to get as far away from the battle as fast as he could. Fighting had never been his thing – it was never going to be his thing – and he did not like the idea of having to make it his thing anytime soon. First and foremost on Owen’s agenda was to find a hiding place, crawl into it, and stay there until this all blew over. It did not take long before his shuffling turned into a full run, which quite predictably – and almost comically – caused him to crash into something solid which caused him to fall on his face. Rubbing a throbbing welt on his head, Owen rolled onto his back and saw what he had hit. Standing above him with sword drawn, was a substantial and angry-looking Ochan soldier. The top of the creature’s helmet was split open, blood slowly creeping down the side of his scowling face. Owen scurried on his rear across the muddied ground. The colossal
Ochan followed, lifting his sword into the air, ready to remove the young boy’s head from his shoulders. The soldier grinned evilly as the trail of blood from his head seeped into his mouth, stained his razor sharp teeth and caused him to lick it with his dark green lips. Owen’s heart pumped double time. His pulse pounded so loudly that he could hear it over the madness of war around him. His brain started to beat against the interior of his skull, reverberating back and forth painfully into his ears. Tears streamed down his cheeks as Owen rolled back onto his stomach, curled himself into a ball and jammed his eyes shut.
A few seconds passed, then a few more. After those came and went, a few more skipped by.
“Why wasn’t he dead yet? He should be dead, shouldn’t he”?
Confused as to why the soldier had not chopped him right down the middle into two pieces, Owen cautiously rolled onto his back one more time. The extremely large, angry soldier was still standing above him, sword still drawn. Gone, however, was the look of anger on his face. It had been replaced by a look of confusion. The soldier was staring directly at Owen, his toothy mouth hanging wide open – looking right at him – yet he looked right past him - almost as if he could not see Owen at all.
Still trying to slow the unrelenting pounding in his head, Owen cautiously backed away from the creature. He moved a few feet away, but the soldier remained still. Not only that, the creature was backing away, an expression of confusion, fear and shock etched into his ghastly maw. Owen braced himself on a nearby wall in order to stand. When he glanced at his hand he noticed that it could not be seen.
He could feel his hand as he steadied himself against the wall. His eyes, though, told a different story. Owen moved in hand in front of his face but saw nothing. He looked down at his feet which also seemed not to exist. Torso, arms, shoulder, feet, neck, head, every part of the young boy’s body was now invisible.