by M. A. Torres
Megan nodded. “Yeah we did.”
“I’m not blind, Kevin; there was a trash bag leaning against the theater four doors.”
“Go back there and get it!” commanded Tom.
Kevin rolled his eyes and started down the lobby towards theater four. He reached it moments later, and found the double doors wide open, a black trash bag leaning against the wall.
How?
He entered and grabbed it, but up the side aisle was another black trash bag. Kevin sighed, then returned to the hallway. “Very funny, guys!” he hollered. He placed the trash bag against the outside wall and rushed back to retrieve the other. As he ascended the side ramp the wall lamps flickered black. The blackness was darker than any black he’d ever seen, more opaque than the blackness of a dark, empty hole. He paused mid-aisle and stared at the lamps with curiosity. Then, the lights ceased flickering and resumed their normal glow.
What’s going on?
Kevin continued up the aisle and noticed the theater screen was lit.
“Anybody in here?”
There was no answer.
Kevin reached the second trash bag when an image appeared on the theater screen—an image of a stone sarcophagus upon an altar, a tangle of branches rising from crevices within the floor. The leaves from the branches seemed to sparkle like twinkling stars. The image was not still—the leaves slow-danced as in a soft breeze. It appeared to be a live feed.
Kevin turned towards the seats, and spotted a figure sitting in the middle of the theater, dressed in a black hood, and wearing a white mask. The mask had two black eyes that skewed down, angrily.
“Hey, who are you? You’re not supposed to be in here!” he scolded.
The masked intruder stood. His arms and chest were padded with black armor. He was hooded and cloaked with a flowing cape.
“Don’t be alarmed, Kevin Parker.” His voice was stern and monotone but sounded young. He sidestepped out of the row and paused atop the aisle steps.
“How do you know my name? Who are you?”
“My name is Shade. I apologize for the threatening costume. I must wear it to protect my identity from those who oppose my life’s mission.”
Kevin glanced towards the theater exit. Another individual stood there, this one wearing a white smiling mask. He held a curved sword with the blackest of blades. Kevin gazed towards the emergency exit and found a third masked intruder impeding it. A long, black tear ran down this one’s left eye. It raised both hands, and the image on the theater screen came alive—roots sprouted from the cracks within the floor, slithered towards them, and emerged from the screen itself.
Kevin’s eyes widened with disbelief. He stepped back and noticed the foliage was slithering his way. “HELP!” He ran towards the opposite side of the theater. Midway there, he tripped and fell, his feet restrained by the growing foliage. He kicked his feet, desperate to free himself, but the roots were wound tight and still ascending his leg. Two of the masked intruders were fast approaching.
His legs froze, and he could no longer kick. He tried to swing his arms but had lost control. He tried to scream, but that, too, proved a fleeting effort.
Shade looked down on him with those terrible, slanted black eyes. He hovered his gloved hand over Kevin’s face. “Even the best of us can find that we’re the antagonist in someone else’s story. Kevin, are you the villain I seek?”
Kevin’s eyes burned like hot steel. The pressure within them escalated—a pressure so mounting that he felt his head about to burst. He screamed at the top of his lungs—or so it seemed in his head. No noise escaped his mouth, and the room remained quiet, with only the soft sounds of breath coming from behind Shade’s mask.
Kevin was on the verge of losing consciousness when the pressure lifted. He slowly opened his eyes. Shade was still crouched before him, shaking his head.
“You are not the villain we seek, Kevin. I apologize for this incident.” Shade stood and gave a quick nod to the others. They exited the theater through the emergency exit.
The foliage unwrapped from his legs and slithered back into the theater screen.
“To make amends, I will assist you with that girl you like.”
Kevin rubbed the residual pain from his head. “Wait, what?”
“You heard me well, Kevin.”
“Who are you? Did you read my mind?”
Shade approached the emergency exit. He opened the door and looked at Kevin. “Ask her out in a week. I’m sure Megan will say yes then.”
Chapter Eleven:
A Bandit Rendezvous
Sven had the boys up at first light. They gathered their things, took their horses, and started northbound through the snowfall which had lessened overnight. Not even a light breeze was present—a welcome occurrence to winter travel. The blanket of snow was thick on the ground, though, and hampered their pace. Sven led the way as always, with the others following single file through the path formed by Rebel’s hooves.
It took an hour to traverse the thickest snow. Then the gap widened, and the horses picked up speed. The boys trotted side by side, about fifteen yards behind Sven. They passed more towered forts along the way, some to their left and others to their right. They stood abandoned and served only as shelters to those traveling through the gap.
About an hour later, the gap opened to a vast expanse of endless snow-covered fields. Sven hastened the pace. Jake kept up, riding Blitz more than adequate, but the look on his face did not lie—he remained uneasy.
Matthew stared into the vast overcast sky. “Kevin, I still don’t believe we’re here. What do you think our parents would say if they knew?”
“My mom would freak out. Then she would chain me to the wall; make sure I never came back.”
“I think my parents would ground me for a day, then ask me to bring them here.”
“What?”
“You know my mom and dad; they’d want to come and open a car dealership.”
Matthew’s parents owned McCall’s Auto Depot, the largest
used auto dealership in Wakefield Falls.
“They’re not that bad, Matthew,” chuckled Kevin.
“Oh yes, they are. Then they’d start importing gas and selling it for gold. Then they would start a road construction company... They’d rule Derathiel within the year.”
“Imagine that—driving up to Whitestaff in a Jeep—the look on people’s faces.”
Matthew smiled. “You just gave me a great idea! If we ever have to fight another monster army, I say we bring a tank!”
“A tank? Where are we gonna get a tank?”
“The military museum downtown! Imagine blasting Raven’s ugly mug with a tank’s cannon! There’d be nothing left but a poop stain!”
“I would love to see that!”
“You know, if we ever kill him, I’m going to take his cloak and wash my brother’s car with it. I would turn it into the official McCall family washrag.”
“I would take his cloak and paint pink polka dots on it. Then I would place it over a girl mannequin and call it Raven,” said Kevin.
“I would make underwear from it and wear it every day for a month, making sure I ate beans every day!”
“Ugh, gross... but I like that idea. Just make sure you make me and Jake a pair!”
“Yeah, we’ll give Sven a pair too, right before feeding him picadillo burritos, extra spicy!”
The boys laughed.
“I heard my name back there, you boys doing well?” asked Sven.
The boys gave him a thumbs-up.
“Hm, what does that mean?”
“Oh, back in our world, thumbs-up means that everything is well,” answered Kevin.
Sven nodded. “Very well then.” He returned the thumbs-up.
Hours later, the vast expanse gave way to a forested region. Thousands of years of travel had cleared a path through its thickness. It was known as the Glimmering Road, named for the millions of glittering specks that marked it on sunny days, created by the
crystal leaves that littered the road.
They traveled the Glimmering Road for an hour before stopping to rest the horses. They found a spot beneath a group of trees that intertwined, creating a tangled mess of trunks and branches that extended tall and wide. The area beneath was dry and free of snow.
Jake looked relieved to dismount. He walked Blitz to a tree and secured him next to Comet. Then he joined Matthew and Kevin, who were unpacking their lunch. Sven remained behind, tending the horses.
“My thighs... they’re so sore.” He sat and pulled out a cold burrito from his backpack.
“You’re doing better controlling Blitz,” observed Matthew. “You don’t look as ridiculous anymore.”
“Shut up, Matt Bratt!”
Sven joined them moments later.
“Aren’t you gonna eat?” asked Jake.
“I can’t. My stomach still aches,” he responded. He grabbed his stomach and frowned. A second later, he jumped to his feet and rushed into the forest.
The boys exchanged a concerned glance.
“Did any of you bring Pepto Bismol?” asked Kevin.
Matthew and Jake shook their heads.
“Poor Sven,” said Matthew.
The boys continued their meals. Minutes went by, and Sven had not returned. Kevin finished his energy bar and stood. “I’m gonna go check on Sven.”
He started towards the forest when a huge muscular man appeared before him, pointing an arrow in his direction. He had a brown-beard with long, tangled hair. He wore a thick wolf’s pelt, fur pants, and large boots. He backed Kevin up, ready to loose an arrow at his face.
“Do not move! Any of you!” he commanded. His voice was high and crackly.
Three more men emerged from the trees, ready to loose their arrows at the boys. Jake and Matthew raised their hands.
“We said DON’T MOVE!” screamed another of the men. This one’s beard ran jet black, and he had a scar which crossed his face from one cheek to the other. He approached them and took their backpacks. He tossed them to the third man, who was clean-shaven and bald.
“Sir, we mean no harm, we’re just passing through,” explained Matthew as the bald man dumped the contents of their backpacks onto the ground.
“What are three young lads doing traveling the Glimmering Road alone?” asked the black-bearded man.
“We’re on our way to Whitestaff, sir. We’re on official royal business,” said Kevin.
“Look at these horses!” said the fourth man. He was heavyset, with a long mustache which curled up at both ends. “These are no ordinary beasts! These are warhorses!”
Sven emerged from the forest, his hands raised in the air, followed by a fifth man.
“Faster!” commanded the fifth man, shoving him forward with the point of his sword. This bandit’s teeth were silver, and he looked older than the others.
Sven stumbled forward but kept his footing. “Sirs, we are on an official royal journey on behalf of Princess Hayla Maelstrom. I have the royal decree in my bag. If you’ll allow me, I can retrieve it and show you.”
The eldest bandit smiled his shiny silver smile and glanced at his comrades. The bald one was still rummaging through their stuff and found Jake’s Rosita’s burritos. He removed the foil from one and gave it a sniff.
“Princess Hayla, eh? The same princess whose family brought ruin to our land, eh?” said the elder one with the silver teeth.
“I’m sorry if you’ve had misfortune during her reign. But she’s traveling behind us. Her party consists of knights and royal guards. They will be here promptly. If you let us be, I’ll make sure she gets your name. I’ll make sure she knows you assisted us through the forest. I’m positive she will reward you on our return to Castle Randall,” negotiated Sven.
The bald bandit took a bite from Jake’s burrito and chewed diligently.
“We don’t recognize any princesses out here in the Glimmering Forest, eh. There are no kings, queens, or lords in our realm. We listen to the strong, and the strongest of all is Axeman Ivan, eh. He will decide whether you can continue on your royal quest or whether you become our permanent guests, eh!”
“Axeman Ivan? He served the Maelstroms in the civil war!” said Sven. “It was rumored he was killed by Raven himself.”
“Rumors are nothing but that—rumors. I assure you he did not fall. We were all there, fighting for one Maelstrom against the other—Xavier against Quentin. We gave Xavier our all,” said Rob Silvertooth, the old one with silver teeth. “King Henry was our king. His sons were all arrogant and greedy fools! Fools who brought the great land of Derathiel to its knees.”
“WATER!” The bald bandit screamed and hurled the burrito into the forest. He rushed to one of the boy’s canteens and raised it to his lips. He drank deep, and he drank long, water gushing down both sides of his chin.
Sven smiled. “That won’t help. Tell him to dip his tongue into a pile of snow. He’ll have to keep it there for an hour or two.”
“Brett, you buffoon! He said to stick your tongue into the snow!” screamed Rob Silvertooth.
Brett ran towards the nearby clearing, fell to his knees, and buried his face into the snow.
“Take them to the cart, eh!” ordered Rob Silvertooth.
The bandits forced Kevin and his friends deeper into the forest. Kevin looked for an opening to run for Flameclaw, but the bandit was right behind, the point of his arrow an inch from his head. He glanced towards Jake and saw he was in the same predicament.
A few yards into the thick of the forest, they came upon a large jail cart. Its iron cage was rectangular and spanned about six feet wide and fifteen feet long. Someone was already inside, huddled by the rear corner.
“Stop lollygagging and open the gate, Brett!” hollered Rob Silvertooth.
Brett came running back, his face covered in snow. “That food is poison filth! Are you all some special kind of torturers, making people eat that flaming yuck?”
“No one made you eat it, eh, it was your own dumb noggin’ who tasted some odd strangers’ food!” scolded Rob Silvertooth.
Brett was puffing air, trying to cool his tongue. He pulled out an iron key and jammed it into the large iron padlock that secured the cage. A second later, the gate flung open, and the boys were shoved inside. Kevin was the first one in. He entered, wary of the prisoner sitting at the back end, his head buried between his arms. Kevin paused halfway through the cage, leaving a respectful distance between him and the prisoner. Jake, Matthew, and Sven were led in right after, and they locked the gate behind them.
“Jake... Jake,” whispered Matthew.
“What?”
“Can you make Tombstone fly into your hand? You can free us!”
“This isn’t Star Wars, Matt! I don’t have the Force!”
“Then how does it come back when you throw it?”
“It’s more like a Thor thing! I launch it, and it comes back like a boomerang... but I can’t make it come if it’s just lying there!”
“Shush, you two!” Rob Silvertooth smiled his silver smile, and the boys realized those were the only teeth he still possessed.
Rob noticed the boys huddled together, away from the prisoner. “Don’t fear that old fool, boys. You’re in good company—you’re before the great Lord Frederick, lord of Seville!”
The prisoner raised his head. It was Lord Frederick. He appeared thin, pale, and weak. Perspiration glistened on his forehead, even in the cold weather. His once black beard was now thinning and gray; the bones of his skull were well-defined on his withered face. He glanced at the boys, then let his face drop back between his arms and legs.
“Wow, he doesn’t look well,” observed Jake.
“He’ll be dead soon, eh,” answered Rob Silvertooth. “His leg wound has festered, eh. Goin’ to request a ransom, but he won’t survive the journey north.”
His leg wound?
Kevin approached and knelt beside him. He raised Lord Frederick’s left pant leg, exposing the wound Kevin had
caused at the Hill of the Dead Gods. It was swollen and black. The skin surrounding it was dark red. A putrid odor, strong and hot, filled the surrounding air. Kevin gagged. He covered the wound.
Lord Frederick raised his head once more. “Princess Hayla is in danger.” His voice was low and weak—barely louder than a whisper.
“What do you mean?” asked Kevin.
“Water...”
Kevin stood and turned to the bandits. “Someone bring him water!”
“Dead men don’t need water!” answered Redek Longstache, the heavy one with the curled mustache.
Rob Silvertooth approached the cart and pointed at Lord Frederick’s leg. “Someone got ’em good, eh? Wasn’t us, we promise. Found him like that we did, crawling up the Glimmering Road, eh. Wasn’t for us, he’d be dead by now. Fed ’em well we did; clean his wound we did, but that rot was well set. Nothing could be done.”
“And a shame, that is,” said a deep unfamiliar voice. He emerged from the forest, tall and muscular, with long, dirty brown hair, a large forehead, and small black eyes. He, too, was dressed in furs, but strapped to his back was the broadest, thickest, most enormous axe any of the boys had seen.
“Could have ransomed him for gold! Instead, he’s going to gift us his rotting corpse.”
“Ivan, we caught these here kids, eh. Say they’re Princess Hayla’s boys, traveling on royal business.”
Axeman Ivan approached the jail cart. He studied them, his breath stinky and warm. “Royal boys, eh?”
“Yes, and as I mentioned to your friend... Princess Hayla’s party is just behind us. She will reward you if you let us be on our way,” negotiated Sven.
Axeman Ivan turned away, ignoring his plea. He eyed the horses and smiled. “Excellent beasts you all were riding.”
“I think one of them is a trained warhorse. Kicked my head off, he almost did!” said Redek Longstache.
“Did they have any cargo?”
“They sure did! Heavy bags they are—heavy and odd,” said Brett.
Redek and Brett dragged the duffle bags over to Ivan. They tried to open them by pulling the zipper apart.