The Histories of Earth, Books 1-4: In the Window Room, A Prince of Earth, All the Worlds of Men, and Worlds Unending

by Steven J. Carroll

���What is it?���

  ���That ringing. I hear it too now.���

  And this ringing grew like a thunder. Light burst forth around them now like the birth of a star.

  ���Quickly, Meris. Hurry!��� Del shouted, much louder than she knew, because of the immensity of the sound in her ears.

  Meris, however, had not heard any such noise at all, for it had confined itself in a way that only the girls could hear it. Still, he knew immediately what it was, once he saw the panicked look on their faces, and he left the fight to run and join in with them, but it was too late.

  A strong barrier had now formed between them. He pressed his paws against the golden light in vain. On the inside, Del put her hands opposite his.

  ���I’m so sorry,��� she said, starting to tear, but he could not hear her. His eyes looked distracted, beyond hers, to a new crowd of men who had just then realized what was happening; After seeing the explosion of light, and the orb forming around the girls, they were running out to try their claim at the king’s reward money, if any were still to be had.

  At this sight, Gamel threw down the stick he’d managed to steal away from one of the thugs. And then, yelling something inaudible to Meris the two turned about, and ran as fast as their legs enabled them to, down the lane away from the main square.

  This was the last Del saw then. For at that moment, they were shot up toward the heavens, leaving behind an awestruck and bewildered mob.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  A Foul Game

  ���We didn’t do much good with it, did we?��� Del finally spoke up.

  The two had been sitting blankly for some while during recreation hour that next morning. It was otherwise cheerful in the yard, though. Governor Hanessy had organized an exhibition match against a rival girls’ school from Sussex, but both girls were withheld to the sidelines.

  The reasons for this being: For Mattie, that although she was indeed a remarkable bowler (having been forced into private lessons every summer since the beginning of primary school), she was unfortunately never allowed the opportunity to show it while at Mayfield; And, by my judgement, I think the underlying reason why she did not protest much about the fact was that, in her heart, she was never all that fond of cricket to begin with. For Del, it was that for a long time that morning she’d complained about not feeling well. (Which was, to some extent, true.)

  ���Do you think they made it out alright?��� Mattie asked.

  ���Oh, I don’t know…��� Del answered, shuffling her feet aimlessly. ���We can’t know for sure till we get back.���

  ���You want to go back there?��� Mattie said hesitantly.

  ���Sure. Don’t you?���

  ���Well… yes, but I can’t see what good we’ll do. We can’t get into the city by ourselves, and even if we did we’d never make it into the palace.���

  Mattie had let her eyes wander down as she said these words, for she knew by now that she should have been braver than this.

  But before Mattie could completely finish these words, however, Del’s face began to flash a tempered red. She’d indignantly wished to call Hardy all sorts of awful names for wanting to back out on their duties now, not the least of which was a ���coward���.

  Del clenched both fists tightly.

  ���Oh, don’t be so selfish, Hardy!��� she said.

  But Mattie, now sounding all too much like her father (who would often say such things)��, she retaliated, ���I’m not being selfish… just being smart about it is all.���

  Del drew in her bottom lip, to hold in her tongue. ���Yeah, well they’re the same thing sometimes,��� she said.

  In response to this, Mattie said not a word, but kept her stare towards the ground. Out in the yard, the morning’s skirmish against Sussex was not going so well either. So that even the most typically hopeful spectators were noticeably starting to lose their muster. Mattie knew the feeling.

  ���Please come back with me,��� Del finally spoke up. ���I’ve got no chance at all if you’re not there.���

  Mattie thought, and let out a deep sigh, becoming more like herself as she did. ���Alright,��� she said, looking back up, and smiling for the first time that day.

  (Now, if you may remember, until this point both girls had not been truly friends, not in any lasting way that is. It was only that they had just recently, and painfully, forsaken enemyship, and were only just beginning the first processes of friendhood, which was now coming into fruition; And it was here, at this memory, that I believe both girls would recount as their true beginning.)

  Del smiled back, a very genuine smile. For she knew no matter what, that from here on they would be in this together.

  That night Del had a horrible time sleeping. Her bed was far more comfortable than anything she’d had in days, but her mind was far too turbulent for resting. They needed some heroic plan before tomorrow night, and the Prince’s trial. But, how would they ever get back into the palace now, unseen? - she thought. Though at last, she decided that this of course was impossible. Which left then, only one other option, and it was not a very good one.

  *

  �� As you might like to know, Mattie’s father had made a name for himself, during the war, as an author of protest literature. So that in her younger years, Mattie would often find herself repeating some of her father’s pacifist slogans as a reflex, until she had come to establish her own thoughts on the matter.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  In the Deep Prison

  The deep prison halls of Ismere were solemn that next evening. Prince Corwan sat upright against the back wall of his cell, his wrists and ankles clapped in irons. For since the king had already needed to deal with the mysterious losses of two fugitive prisoners so far this week, and would have no more such instances, ���…that might smear the good name of the crown,��� as he put it, he therefore commanded that Corwan be relocated to the bottommost chamber of his dungeon, to be locked securely in chains, awaiting his summons to court at sunrise.

  Tomorrow���s “trial”, if it could be called that in good conscience, would almost certainly be rigged against his favor, but there was no other way. And the council, as of late, as his brother Reuel would often complain, ���…is becoming increasingly overrun by lesser men.��� Sadly, Corwan knew there was little hope for him now, because of this. Most would fall to Faron’s army, and those who could not be pressured would be bought. Thus leaving the worthy few that remained faithful to the crown too inconsequential to raise a sufficient vote. All this he knew, through logic. ���But perhaps,��� he hoped, ���a rescue might come by some other means.���

  It was late on the eve of his supposed execution. There was a frantic weariness in his mind that would not be subdued by worry, and his arms ached because of the chains. Thus, after a few more similar thoughts, his eyes began to sag. Then, weighed down by the heaviness of these thoughts, he put his head back and fell asleep, but this was not to last for long.

  Soon after, the prince awoke to a grating, scratching, peculiar sort of sound coming from the darkened corner of his cell. The unsuspectedness of which startled him (as I believe it would most). It was odd though, in the sense that it did not appear to be coming from within the room at all, but from below rather, as if the world’s largest mole were ascending up through the depths to meet him. This burrowing, which began as a hardly distinguishable ticking sound, grew more audible every second. Till at last it burst from the ground in the shadowed corner of the room, letting out a distinctly human-like sigh.

  Corwan sat back further against the wall when he heard it speak. From the blackened shadows of his cell he could hear a whisper: a very hushed, earthy whisper. His ears strained to hear what it said.

  ���Eh there… you the prince?��� the voice spoke.

  ���Is som
eone there?��� Corwan quietly and cautiously replied, so as to not wake the guards who sat outside his door.

  This irritated the voice. Who then answered back, not so delicately as before, ���Of course there’s someone here. I asked you a question, didn’t I?���

  ���Yes, well… you might have been my imagination, so that’s why I asked,��� he said, squinting in the dark to see whom he might be speaking with.

  ���Oh, come on. You haven’t gone mad yet, have you? Haven’t even been in here that long,��� the voice said.

  ���Yes, well I do see your point,��� Corwan answered, ���but then again it is the middle of the night, and you did just crawl up through my floor.���

  The creature chuckled, ���Ha. You could jolly well make anything sound crazy if you’d say it like that.���

  ���Indeed…��� the prince agreed hesitantly. Though not yet completely at ease, being unable to discern his intruder, but he having a clear view of him in fettered chains. So shorty after this, Corwan asked the thing politely, if it wouldn’t mind stepping out into the lighted portion of the room. To which it eagerly obliged, saying at once that it had ���forgotten its manners��� and also that His Majesty ought to try to ���keep his head on him��� and ���keep a tight lip���, so that they wouldn’t have any trouble and accidentally wake the guards.

  All this was of course fine by the prince, who’d agreed to stay calm, so long as the voice did nothing hostile. This took only one or two moments to be agreed upon. So that in the end, out from the shadows emerged a dirty, furry-faced creature, thoroughly tired from a full day’s worth of good digging. He waddled towards the prince, and was oddly at eye level to him as he approached. In an instant Corwan realized that this ���person��� to whom he had been speaking was in fact not a person at all, but (as you may have already guessed) Meris, who had been digging heroically, since midmorning, trying to reach Corwan’s cell before he was taken to trial at sunrise.

  The chubby mammal stopped, several feet before the prisoner, in the silhouette of dim torchlight that came wafting in through the open hatch in the door.

  ���I’m here to rescue you,��� he said, and shook some of the lingering dust from his furry coat. His Majesty was perplexed, and rightly so.

  ���A gopher…?��� he said.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  At the Gates

  ���There’s no way on earth we’ll make it in there without being caught,��� Mattie warned.

  The two girls were dressed again in their disguises, peering over the crest of a hill toward the city gates afar off. A raggedy old thorn bush in front of them blocked their clear view of the watchtower, but it needn’t have bothered. They both knew that tower was there, and that this was a right foolhardy mission.

  ���You’re right,��� Del said, affirmingly, as if she’d known this all along.

  Mattie’s eyes looked cross now. ���Why do you say it like that?��� she questioned. But Del paid her no attention, as she was already several paces ahead when Mattie said this. She had obviously not intended to stay in hiding.

  ���Was this your big idea? To have us captured?��� Mattie yelled out in disbelief.

  Del turned about, stopping for just one second, ���Yes. Now come on.���

  ���Ohhh…��� Mattie quickly stood, and ran along after her to catch up. ���All this space travel’s gone to your head, Calbefur!��� And when she was at last able to match Del’s stride, she blurted out, ���You knew I’d never have agreed to this.���

  If you can imagine sounding both compassionate and irritated all at the same time, then you will likely know how Del sounded in this moment.

  ���I’m sorry. I really am,��� she explained. ���But this is the only way. Trust me, will you?���

  Mattie sighed, a very loud sigh. ���I sure hope you’ve thought this one through.���

  Del did not respond to this, however, because she was too busy wondering for herself whether or not she truly had thought this through all the way.

  Ahead, Ismere was tensely chaotic that morning. A steady stream of rural farmers, and even some from the neighboring towns and villages could be seen forming a line at the main gate. One cart in particular, filled to the top with likely enthusiasts, came from as far away as Lochmead. (Which, in case you hadn’t known, is typically a full two days journey from the capital by horseback, and suspectedly longer if you traveled by cart.) Most common folk, who could afford to do so, had taken the day off just so that they might be nearer to the morning’s proceedings, awaiting news from the high council.

  And so it was, in this manner, that Mattie and Del made their way to a position towards the back of the line. Those who stood before them looked to have mixed expressions. For the most part, their faces were mournful or solemn, though a few appeared to be nervously excited; and even one lanky fellow, at the head of the line, Del thought for sure looked strangely happy.

  A short, fat man in a wide floppy hat, and a tall man with the longest white beard either girl had ever seen, stood huddled directly in front of them. They spoke in low voices about the state of the kingdom, and of this present situation. Mattie and Del strained their ears to hear what the men said, but gave careful attention to look about every so often, trying unsuccessfully to appear disinterested.

  ���I just don’t see why more men won’t stand up to him, is all,��� said the man in the wide hat.

  ���True, true, very well… but tell me, what are you doing about it, Mortimer?��� asked the bearded man.

  ���Oh, come off it. You know I’ve got a weak heart,��� the large man vigorously answered back. Then in a lower voice, ���Couldn’t possibly do much good, you know.���

  ���See, there… that’s precisely my point,��� the tall man replied. ���Nearly all men have weak hearts, in one way or another.���

  After this, the men’s conversation drifted to matters of finance, specifically the new land tax the king had recently proposed to council and its implications on local sheep herders, which was a topic neither girl found particularly interesting.

  (And I would assume, reader, that you would as well find the rest of their discussion tiresome, and much too adult-ish to be worth its ink. So then, if you’ll permit me, I would like to go back now to Corwan, and an event that happened earlier that morning within the palace, while Del and Mattie were still busy examining the city gate, deciding whether or not to move forward with their mission.)

  You see, earlier that morning, at sunrise, when the jailor came to collect the prince for his well anticipated trial, he found the prisoner’s cell just as he had left it and Corwan patiently seated, still in chains, showing no signs of struggle.

  But why had he not taken his opportunity to escape, you may be wondering? Well, there were multiple reasons for this: One being that, while although it may have been technically possible to break the prince free from his chains, the entire process would likely have caused such a clatter that they could never have completed it in time to escape back down the tunnel, not without first being discovered by the guards who sat sleeping just outside his door.

  Though this was, in fact, a secondary reason for why Corwan had not tried his hand at escaping. The main reason being this: He had come to the realization that he could not in good conscience succeed in escaping, and so it would be better then not to try.

  (This seems a strange thing to say, but it is truth, as clearly as it’s written.) Corwan knew the state of his kingdom: The fragile hearts of his forces now that their generals were (the honest ones at least) nearly all dead, or missing and rightfully presumed dead. What’s more, he knew that any form of escaping would then require preparations for a civil war. And that, they would certainly lose, having no fortified city and neither the means with which to eq
uip an army.

  In addition, he knew the sweeping wrath of his brother’s anger. And that he, Faron, had been uncharacteristically merciful to the old jailor in recent days, after Del’s miraculous flight from the dungeon. Presumably because even Faron in his arrogance could grasp at how impossible it would be for any living person to forcibly constrain a prisoner who’s able to break apart stone roofs like pieces of parchment.

  So Corwan was led from the depths of the prison that morning, his hands still bound in front of him. And what of Meris you may ask? Well, he was sent back to Gamel in the early hours of dawn with a message from His Majesty, the Prince, and a new plan by which they might regain the throne.

  And so then this brings us again to the front of the line, where the girls were both standing, nervously awaiting admittance into the city.

  ���Do you think anyone will recognize us?��� Mattie whispered.

  Del looked towards her friend and shrugged her shoulders, but would not answer Mattie in words for fear that her voice would betray her own rising nervousness.

  When it was at last their turn to be checked by the guards for weapons, and to explain their business that day within the gates, Del did something so rash that even she felt the need to apologize to herself for having done it. As soon as they arrived at the front of the line she did not waste any time, but walked right on toward the head gatekeeper. And he was easy to spot, being that he was the only man seated, not going about his duties. His scraggly beard and fat torso folded in on itself as he reclined with his feet propped up, pretending to nap, his rickety chair titled back against the wall.

  Del cleared her throat, primarily to garner his attention, though partially for her own benefit as well.

  ���Excuse me… ah, sir,��� she said.

  He opened his puffy, wrinkled eyes.

  ���Huh,��� he grumbled. ���What do you want, little girl?���

  His voice was unappealing, but Del knew there was no going back on her decision now. So she inhaled a quick breath, and continued, ���I, and my friend here,��� she said, pointing behind her, ���have… have come to turn ourselves in.���