He came towards Pil once more, and this time Pil could not move. This time, as Todd raised his blade, Pil could see what would happen next, and his sword could not be raised in time to defend it.
21
Dead
And then a figure appeared behind Todd. It appeared there so quickly, Pil could hardly see it. There was a whooshing sound and something swung heavily through the air, hitting Todd square in the side.
Pil expected to see Todd crumple but instead, he was flung off the ground as though he were made of nothing. Todd flew like an arrow, until, with an odd cracking sound, he crashed hard into a nearby tree and crumpled into a heap of limbs. Several leaves floated lazily down on top of him.
Pil looked upwards in shock. Harlem was standing where Todd had been moments before, a manic expression lighting his white face. Pil was hit suddenly with fear, though he did not know why.
“How —” said Pil, awed.
Harlem said nothing but turned and walked back to where Baer Bells lay on the floor. Pheonix and Raven were still huddled over him applying pressure to the wound.
“It’s bad, but he’ll live. Nothing major was punctured,” said Harlem after a quick examination. He got up and walked around to where Damian lay in a puddle of blood. “Is this a Fairy boy?” Harlem asked calmly.
“Yes,” said Pil glumly, looking down. “He saved my life…he was my friend…”
“He’s still alive.”
“What?!” said Pil in shock. He ran quickly to Harlem’s side, examining his friend. Harlem was right; Damian was still breathing, though it was shallow. “We need to help him. Please, Harlem, he’s my friend.”
Harlem looked at Pil strangely, his eyes far away. And then he turned back to Damian and began to work. He brought out one of his daggers and touched the hilt to a spot on Damian’s chest. There was a strange glow coming from Harlem’s hand, and then the flaps of flesh exposing the wound began to move inward — tightening until the large gash was just a ripple of skin and blood.
“Water, Pil,” said Harlem forcefully. “And cloth, any kind.”
Pil ran out and was back in seconds with cloth and a drop of water; as well as a bright-red Merry Berry. Harlem did a double take as he saw the Berry, but then snatched it up and split it open. One hand holding the dagger to Damian’s chest, Harlem crushed up the Berry and put some over the wound and in Damian’s mouth.
“Will that work?” Pil asked, confused.
“No,” said Harlem shortly grabbing up the water droplet and squeezing some in Damian’s mouth. “But it will help with the pain — cloth.”
Pil handed out the torn bit of cloth from one of the supply bags, but Harlem didn’t take it.
“Light it on fire — use bits of twig too.” If Pil thought this was a strange request, he didn't show it. Pil ran quickly to the supply bag and found the tinderbox and then ran back just as quickly. In seconds the cloth expanded into flame and he caught several pieces of brush with it; until there was a merry little fire licking up at the air.
Harlem cleaned the wound using a torn bit of Damian’s leather shirt and then, with his free hand, pulled out his second dagger. It was thin at the base and wide towards the top. Pil hadn’t noticed how wicked-looking they were.
Harlem put the blade in the fire, turning it until it was red hot.
“What are you going to do with that?” asked Pil, concerned.
Harlem ignored him and raised the blade so the flat side was even with Damian’s wound. There was a hiss and the sickening smell of burning flesh.
“Stop! What are you doing!” screamed Pil, reaching out.
“The wound needs to be closed,” said Harlem grimly, knocking his hand away. “I’m cauterizing it.”
Pil stood back. He watched helplessly as Harlem raised the blade, again and again, burning the wound closed.
“Pour water in his mouth,” Harlem ordered, pausing to reheat the blade.
Pil hurried to comply. Damian’s face was pale white and sweating — Pil was surprised to see that his eyes were open. He was awake — Damian’s black eyes caught Pil’s. He opened his mouth his lips were parched white.
“Char — Damian, you’re going to be all right,” said Pil as he poured water into his mouth.
Damian nodded shakily, there was another hiss and another wave of burnt flesh — Damian’s face went taught but he didn’t scream out.
“Done,” said Harlem, getting up. “Clean the wound with the rest of the drop.” He ordered Pil, moving away.
Pil did his best to clean the wound. It looked bad. Pil wondered how Damian was still alive, let alone conscious. Harlem was back in seconds with large bits of torn cloth. He and Pil gingerly wrapped the wound as tightly as they could.
“Thanks,” said Pil, breathless when they were done. Damian was asleep once more, his face still and pale.
“When this is over, you’ll have to explain all of this to me,” said Harlem gruffly.
Pil nodded and was about to get up when he saw something that chilled his blood. Todd was back on his feet; his face was bloodied and furious. As Pil caught sight of him, he lunged.
Pil gave a strangled cry — but it was already over.
Perhaps because he saw Pil’s frightened face, or maybe because of some untold power, Harlem moved. He seemed to teleport, one second he had been standing facing Pil, the next he was in front of Todd mere feet away. Todd ran right into Harlem, crashing upon his body like he had hit a stone wall, he stumbled back disoriented and then looked down. Embedded in his chest to the hilt was one of Harlem's daggers; it was rapidly expanding with a dark stain of blood. Todd’s face went quite white, his eyes lost focus, and he fell.
The glade had gone silent. Pil stood stock-still, staring down at Todd’s body. Todd gasped, coughing blood, his eyes far away. His front was already soaked in blood.
“I’m… not —” he rasped. “Not the only one… He will…”
Harlem said nothing. Todd gave a shudder and then lay still. Harlem bent casually down and retrieved his blade, cleaning it on his own shirt and sheathing it carefully. He turned to face Pil.
“Wake the others, Pil. We need to leave here.”
Pil nodded but said nothing. He moved dreamlike over to Dirk and Sandy. Why did he feel so strange? Seeing Todd die had brought up pictures of Basil and Sage in his mind. Harlem had been so cold, so uncaring.
“Dirk,” he said in Dirk’s ear while shaking his shoulder. “Dirk, wake up.”
Dirk mumbled and rolled over, opening his eyes groggily. “What happened?” he asked, rubbing his face as he sat up.
“It was Todd, Dirk; it was all Todd.”
Dirk nodded absently. “Yeah, I saw him. And then the pain —”
“I’ll explain it later. We need to get moving,” said Pil, moving over to Sandy and shaking him roughly. “Can you carry Fel again?” Pil asked Dirk as Sandy grumbled and got heavily up.
“Yeah,” said Dirk, getting to his feet.
“Pil — what?” Sandy began.
“Later, Sandy. We need to get moving.”
Sandy looked up at him, confused, but grumbled in assent and got moving. It took them only a few minutes to wake everyone. Baer, Felicity, and Damian were in no condition to move by themselves, so Harlem ordered his men to carry them.
If any of them thought his orders strange, they remained quiet. It took both Dot and Zane to hold up Baer, who had woken up into half-consciousness. Pil volunteered to carry Damian himself. The Fairy boy was surprisingly light, and Pil managed to get him on his back without difficulty.
“Where to?” asked Harlem when they were all packed and ready.
The Stratedite Captain Avalon Astro raised his large blue eyes to Harlem and pointed silently in a direction. Harlem nodded and they began to move out, leaving Todd’s body behind.
No one spoke on their way through the trees — not even Brixton, who usually couldn’t keep his mouth shut. Pil noticed Avalon glancing strangely at him every few seconds.
He w
as a disquieting man, Pil decided. His tall and skinny frame, along with his long blue hair and large eyes, all worked together to make him seem like a wild animal. Pil guessed Avalon was looking at him strangely for taking care of a Fairy. But it wasn’t a disgusted or angry look as Pil had expected. It was curious, like a child.
In minutes, they had penetrated deep into Lungala, moving slyly without a sound and hearing and seeing nothing except snatches of the bright purple sky between trees. Finally, Harlem stopped and everyone stopped with him. They were in a kind of cove, free of brush, but roofed by layers of large leaves.
"Let's set camp, fire, and beds," he said, shortly before going to work like his men.
They had several hammocks up, which the injured were carried into, and a fire was started in the center of the camp. Harlem consulted the supplies they had brought and then began separating a meager meal for all of them. In seconds, all the hammocks were up and they were huddled around the fire, which was cooking up a pot of stew, while they all snacked on bread and cheese.
After so many meager meals, the stew was beginning to smell mouthwateringly good to Pil and the others. They dug in gratefully when it was ready, and Pil was on second helpings when Harlem decided to break the long silence.
“What did Todd say to you, Pil?”
“He said he was working for the Castaway King. Do you know who that is?” Harlem shook his head thoughtfully. “Must be who’s controlling all of the Bahbeq,” he muttered. “Todd came back saying that the others had all been killed by a Bahbeq. He had the head to prove it. I should have known something was strange…”
“It’s not your fault,” said Pil bitterly. “Todd was easy to talk to; he played his part very convincingly.”
“Yeah he did,” Dot muttered darkly. “Ungrateful traitor.”
“How did he subdue us all?” asked Zane, confused. “Todd’s second-caste was speed, and he was handy with a sword — but he was no Captain.”
“He was a Prestige,” said Harlem in a low tone. “He must have reached Enlightenment. His magic must have affected us —”
“It was a gauntlet,” Pil broke in. “He called it an Ethereal or something…”
Harlem nodded. “An Ethereal is a magical object that directs our power.” He pulled out his large blades, which seemed to come from nowhere. “This is my Ethereal. I need to be touching something with my knives to use my power.” “That’s it,” said Pil. “He had to draw blood with the gauntlet and then he could make you feel pain.”
“I don’t get it — when did he ever draw blood from me?” asked Dot.
“He had plenty of chances,” said Harlem. “All he had to do was pretend it was a bug bite. It’s no wonder he wanted to play Spot with me and Tiberius — he wanted to get close to us. Close enough to strike.”
“But why are you out here in the light?” Dirk asked, confused. “We didn’t think you would search for us until dark — if at all.”
“Well, we wouldn’t have,” said Harlem awkwardly. “But Todd convinced us that the Falons would be furious if we had lost one of their heirs.”
Pil nodded. “He wanted to lure you out here — probably to kill you.”
Harlem looked away thoughtfully.
“Get some rest. We move out at midday,” he said, pulling out a see-stone which shone a very faint orange. “Avalon and I will keep the first watch — he needs to see to the wounded.”
Avalon stood up at Harlem’s words and went to the cot of one of the injured. Everyone else finished their last bits of food and found a hammock.
Dirk gave Pil a curious glance, to which Pil replied with a firm “goodnight.” He could not bring himself to explain everything that had happened just now. As he lay down in the hammock and looked up into the gently moving branches, Pil’s mind went numb. His mind and body were exhausted, and as he slowly closed his eyes he felt the insistent pull of sleep. Without a second thought, he obeyed it.
22
Night
Pil woke to the smell of cooking. He got gingerly out of his hammock; his body was still sore. Everyone was once again huddled around the fire which was stewing something that smelled delicious.
“Good timing,” said Felicity as she caught sight of Pil. “If you had slept in any later we would have eaten without you.”
“Fel,” said Pil, relieved as he walked over to her. “Are you all right? I was worried.”
She smiled up at him. “I’m right as rain. Avalon thinks it was just exhaustion from using magic.”
Pil looked at her stunned.
“Sit down,” said Harlem quietly. “Zane managed to catch a rabbit; it’s stewing now.”
Pil sat, noticing that Baer and Damian were still asleep in their hammocks.
“So you did use magic, Fel,” said Sandy, awed. “I knew you would reach Enlightenment!”
“It’s not Enlightenment,” said Harlem gruffly. “Enlightenment comes with a weapon Ethereal, not an accessory.” He gestured to the metal bracelet wrapped around Felicity’s wrist.
“What is it, then?” asked Felicity as she examined the curved black object.
“You’ve reached a state that we call second-caste,” said Avalon blankly.
“What does that mean?” asked Dirk.
“It is a form of magic that comes with an Ethereal piece,” explained Harlem. “Think of it like an extension of your abilities. You can either gain physical strength, advanced speed, or you can become invulnerable to physical attacks.”
“Most of us Lieutenants have reached second-caste,” said Dot, pulling down his shirt to show a lump of metal attached to a chain on his neck. “It’s damn impressive for someone your age, though — and without a heartseed and all.”
“A what?” asked Pil, confused.
“You know the myth that Elfin were born from the trees?” asked Harlem as he ladled food into wooden bowls and passed them around.
“Yeah, it’s in Beings of Haven,” said Pil. “But what does that have to do with it?”
“The trees that are believed to have birthed us — the birth-trees,” Harlem continued. “We have some in the Castle. A seed grows from their flowers. Long ago, the Exidite discovered that once ingested, this seed — the heartseed — forces you into second-caste. Reminds us of the magic we’ve lost.”
Not for the first time, Pil marveled at how much was being kept from the public. Downplayed as myths and legends — the Exidite controlled the only bits of magic left to the Elfin.
“But that second-caste magic,” said Pil around a bite of food. “I think I used it, too — I mean, there have been moments lately — moments where I moved quicker than is possible. Like you.” Pil nodded to Harlem, who looked at him strangely.
“I believe it,” said Harlem sincerely. “You have all been through a lot; it seems it was enough to force you into second-caste.”
“But how do we get one of those — the heartseed?” asked Brixton quietly.
Pil had quite forgotten he was there, sitting between his two cronies. He looked to be in a sullen mood, but Pil couldn’t blame him — seeing his father nearly dead must have shaken him up.
“You have to be a Lieutenant —” said Harlem, turning to face him. “Or if you start to have signs of magic like young Pil here.”
“How’s Baer doing, Avalon?” asked Zane kindly.
Avalon turned his blue eyes and lowered his food. “He will survive. If I know Baer, he will be able to walk again soon.”
Brixton retreated into his food, ignoring them all.
“When your Fairy friend wakes up — we will need to talk about what we are doing with him,” said Harlem, addressing Pil.
“What do you mean?” said Pil, panic rising in him suddenly. “Damian saved my life — more than once; he doesn’t belong with his kind — he wants to stay with me… to go to Westleton.”
There was a short silence in which Harlem’s bright blue eyes looked deeply into Pil’s.
“You can’t be serious,” said Dot, chuckling
. “Bring a Fairy into Westleton — the King would have a fit, and he wouldn’t be the only one. There is bad blood between us and them, Pil — very bad blood.”
“I’m not leaving him,” Pil said firmly. “He’ll die out here.”
“We don’t have to leave him,” said Harlem calmly. “We need to talk about how to disguise him, though — Dot’s right, it would be very dangerous for both of you if people found out about him.”
Brixton was glaring at Harlem, a look of disbelief on his face like he wanted to yell but Harlem’s presence was stopping him.
Pil was taken aback; he never thought Harlem would outright agree to take in Damian. “Thanks, but — how will we disguise him?”
Harlem shrugged. “Until we figure out how, he should stay locked up in the E building… You must keep an eye on him, Pil — he is a different species, after all.”
Pil agreed.
They finished eating in silence. Only when everyone had finished did Harlem speak. “We need to get moving. I don’t like being away for so long… Especially now we know there are traitors in Westleton.”
Zane nodded. He and Dot went around to where Baer was. Dirk went around gathering their supplies, and Pil went around to Damian’s hammock. Damian was dead to the world, but he looked to be in much better condition. His face, while still pale, was no longer the sheen white it had been.
Damian woke up suddenly, his large black eyes looking fearfully up. He relaxed as he recognized Pil and made to get up.
“Hey, relax,” said Pil, pushing him down. “I’ll carry you again. You shouldn’t move so much.”
The wound on Damian’s chest was black and raw. He nodded in assent, looking as though every movement caused him great pain. Pil moved Damian onto his back and tried to position him comfortably.
In minutes, they were all up again and ready to march. Once again Avalon led the way through the forest. Pil gave Dirk a meaningful look and walked slowly so that he, Sandy, and Felicity were at the back of the pack.
“So what exactly happened, Pil?” said Dirk as he slowed down to march next to them. Pil explained everything that had happened with him and Todd in quiet whispers.
After the Dark Page 21