Aleks knelt on the surprisingly clean floor of the most fantastic fortress he had ever seen in his life. For starters, it was inside of a giant cave which had a river flowing out of it. There was a port set up along the shore below. Ramparts lined the walls, at least five layers of them. Aleks’ floor must have been second or third from the ground. And that wasn’t even touching on the tunnel system.
On a dais nearby, a man stood authoritatively. At least, of all the men on this platform, he alone was idle. In Aleks’ experience, that meant he was in charge.
“We found this intruder lurking in a corridor,” some lackey with a sword was explaining. The boss looked sternly into the middle distance and said nothing.
Aleks liked to learn people’s real names, but he had been having a rather hard go of it, and he was being very brave despite the difficulties, so he decided that he would cut himself some slack, just this once.
“He tried to pretend that he worked here,” the lackey continued, “but the beast he was leading around wasn’t on any of our import paperwork.”
The stern-faced man looked up, past his subordinate, to the place where fifteen or so other guards had finally managed to tie Ceph down. In hindsight, Aleks probably should have made him stay outside.
“He was also carrying a weapon without authorization,” the lackey said, and he handed over the Thunderblade.
The stern man held it up to the light of a nearby lantern and squinted down its length. “I don’t recognize the style—no Glaevor made this.” Tilting it, he ran his fingers over the working of the handle.
“Don’t touch that!” Aleks blurted, just as the man reached the safety latch.
Turning to stare at him, the man held intense eye contact as he felt over the area. Soon enough, Aleks heard the click of the safety turning off.
Nothing else happened. He must have forgotten to turn the power on in the first place.
Sheepishly, Aleks broke the staring contest. “Sorry,” he muttered, “I really did expect that to do something.”
Without a word, the stern man stepped down off the raised dais where he had been standing, sword in hand. It was time to try another tactic.
Aleks cleared his throat and put on his most formal voice. “Also, good sir, we need to put down our weapons and speak like gentlemen for a moment. What in the name of the endless sea is going on with your outfit?”
Aleks knelt on the surprisingly clean floor of the most fantastic fortress he had ever seen in his life. For starters, it was inside of a giant cave which had a river flowing out of it. There was a port set up along the shore below. Ramparts lined the walls, at least five layers of them. Aleks’ floor must have been second or third from the ground. And that wasn’t even touching on the tunnel system.
On a dais nearby, a man stood authoritatively. At least, of all the men on this platform, he alone was idle. In Aleks’ experience, that meant he was in charge.
“We found this intruder lurking in a corridor,” some lackey with a sword was explaining. The boss looked sternly into the middle distance and said nothing.
Aleks liked to learn people’s real names, but he had been having a rather hard go of it, and he was being very brave despite the difficulties, so he decided that he would cut himself some slack, just this once.
“He tried to pretend that he worked here,” the lackey continued, “but the beast he was leading around wasn’t on any of our import paperwork.”
The stern-faced man looked up, past his subordinate, to the place where fifteen or so other guards had finally managed to tie Ceph down. In hindsight, Aleks probably should have made him stay outside.
“He was also carrying a weapon without authorization,” the lackey said, and he handed over the Thunderblade.
The stern man held it up to the light of a nearby lantern and squinted down its length. “I don’t recognize the style—no Glaevor made this.” Tilting it, he ran his fingers over the working of the handle.
“Don’t touch that!” Aleks blurted, just as the man reached the safety latch.
Turning to stare at him, the man held intense eye contact as he felt over the area. Soon enough, Aleks heard the click of the safety turning off.
Nothing else happened. He must have forgotten to turn the power on in the first place.
Sheepishly, Aleks broke the staring contest. “Sorry,” he muttered, “I really did expect that to do something.”
Without a word, the stern man stepped down off the raised dais where he had been standing, sword in hand. It was time to try another tactic.
Aleks cleared his throat and put on his most formal voice. “Also, good sir, we need to put down our weapons and speak like gentlemen for a moment. What in the name of the endless sea is going on with your outfit?”
The man actually stopped in his path, eyebrows raising almost imperceptibly. “My outfit?” he said. He reminded Aleks of his father’s great bloodhounds whose noses wrinkled whenever a maid accidentally brushed soot from a fireplace into their face.
“Precisely,” Aleks said. “You are wearing work boots, leather pants, and a white frilled shirt. Are you going to a dance or to feed the cows? Pick an aesthetic.”
The man smiled. “You have never dealt with sea bandits, have you?”
“My potential experience is irrelevant,” Aleks said. “You are wearing silk gloves. My mother wears silk gloves, and that’s fine, because she’s a middle aged woman and not an aspiring bandit overlord.”
Passing the sword to his other hand, the man’s grip on the handle changed. He had been holding it like anything before. Now it was an instrument, a tool, and he the skilled artist. Aleks had grown up near enough warriors to recognize when someone knew what they were doing.
In that moment, he had exactly the wrong kind of epiphany. If the sword malfunctions, the wizards’ note had said, place it back in the case and return it to us for repairs. Opening the box, he had wondered why the ever practical wizards had thought to line it with such fine fabric. He was beginning to understand now.
The man wearing the silk gloves was stepping forward again.
“Wait,” Aleks said, too distracted to think of anything useful, “Sorry, just—could you hang on? I’m having second thoughts about my fashion analysis.”
“Any last words?” The man said.
Aleks bowed his head. “I’m sorry.”
“No no,” the man said, “It’s too late for that.”
“But I can’t help feeling it,” Aleks said, looking up again, “You have this entire epic underground fortress, full of soldiers and merchants and servants. Thousands of people run around all night working to fulfill your every whim—and nobody loves you.”
Lowering his sword, the man stepped back. “Okay,” he said, “I changed my mind. Death is too good for you.” Turning to the head lackey, he handed the Thunderblade back into his care. “Take him down to—”
The minute his hands made contact with it, the lackey yelped and dropped the sword. Aleks was moving before it hit the ground. He was ready for the jolt that would come through the floorboards, but the men holding Ceph were not. While they startled, he yanked a dagger from the nearest belt and set to cutting Ceph’s bonds.
The stern man barked an order, but it was already too late. In a rush, Ceph burst free.
Aleks felt a kind of a lurch in his stomach, like the one that happens when you step off of a staircase only to realize that there were one or two steps more that you had forgotten about, and your feet don’t quite catch your insides in time. The next thing he knew, he was being dragged up towards the ceiling of the cave, Ceph’s fore-leg wrapped around his waist.
In the growing distance, he could see the bandit’s stern leader staring after him. For just a moment they made eye contact, and Aleks got another kind of funny feeling.
“You know,” Aleks said, “That guy was less of an idiot than normal—though the gloves were probably just lucky.” Then he remembered that Ceph would never be able to hear him over the wind his wings made.
Lucas crouched at the edge of the woods, staring ahead at his goal. The barrier looked like it was gone, but he knew better. A few minutes ago he had seen the empty hillside where Jonack’s house stood and run forward, only to face-plant into the same wall. In that moment he could see the barrier, though the smack against his skull would have been enough notice. The wall was there, but only when he got close to it.
There had to be a way in—at least, there had been a way out for him and for Wren, for Rheanna and for William. But he could not puzzle out the secret, so he was stuck here, watching from the sidelines as shadowy figures moved along the town roads. From this distance he could not tell if they were human.
“Now what?” a voice said.
Lucas nearly jumped out of his skin, tripping forward even though he was already crouched. He tried to roll with the movement, get back onto his feet again, but he ended up half sprawled on his side, barely keeping his grip on the sword.
The shadow imp hovered in the air, just behind a tree. It must have been using that for cover in the same way Lucas was using the bushes.
“You followed,” Lucas said, as much to himself as to anyone. He was fairly confident that he would not be able to carry out his threat.
The imp only shrugged. “I got bored. Do we have to fight now?"
"Not yet,” Lucas said, careful this time to keep his voice low. If he could stall for time he would. Maybe this thing was smart enough to have a sense of fairness. Could he appeal to that?
“When do we fight?” the imp said, not so much in anticipation as curiosity.
“I want to fight the other monsters first.” Lucas explained, “You wouldn’t interrupt that—right?”
“Oh!” the imp said, wagging one long boney finger, “That is a very good point. Interrupting is rude.”
“Yeah,” Lucas said, suddenly struck with inspiration. Standing up, he lifted his blade to point towards Greydawn, towards the barrier he could not cross. “Could you tell me how to get to them? The other monsters—so that I can go fight them?"
"You’ll have to lose the sword,” the imp said, matter of fact.
Lucas only gripped it tighter. “But that’s what I’m going to fight them with."
The imp shook its head. "It’s keeping you in the wrong place. You have to cover it, or the wall won’t disappear."
"The wrong place,” Lucas repeated, hating that he was considering the words. But Wren had said something, that the power that came over her at night was tied to another country, to a world that reflected this one. Was it possible that the barrier only existed in one realm?
“I could cover it for you,” the imp continued, eyes widening, “You could walk through, and I could come after with the sword, to give it back to you."
"No thanks,” Lucas said. Now that the whole plan had been laid out, he knew it was a trick. There was no way he would let go of this sword. Come to think of it, the sword’s magic might be the only reason the imp had not attacked him yet. There had to be another way.
He stepped out of the tree cover and walked back up to the invisible wall. It coalesced as he came near, the same way a lantern made the world appear under a starless night. There was smooth stone in a circle around him, cast in the same shape that the light fell.
“You have to let it go,” the imp whispered from behind him. Now that he was used to its presence, he could tell where it was without looking. That faint crackling sound followed in the wake of its movements.
He did not like to admit it, but there might be truth in the creature’s words. Maybe the barrier was not invisible—maybe it only existed in the light. To test this theory, he lifted his arm, stretched the point of the blade as high as it would go up the wall. Sure enough, the stone moved, extending to block the sword from above. Was the light causing that effect, or would any object do the same thing?
His arm was getting tired, so he pulled the sword down. In the movement it scraped the wall, leaving a mark like a claw across damp ground.
Well, maybe there was another way in.
Stepping back, he pointed the sword straight ahead and pressed the tip into the wall. It was hard to see exactly what happened—the sword was long, and the glare it gave off made its edges hard to notice—but he felt a give. So he set his feet and his shoulders and threw his weight against the handle, pushing the point through to the other side.
“Okay,” the imp murmured behind him, “That sure is something.”
The sword was now stuck in the wall like a pin in a pincushion. It was progress, but it wasn’t about to let him get anywhere.
“Maybe if you make a lot of little holes,” the imp continued. It flew forward until it was hovering just over the sword and began pointing, drawing a line of dashes to mark out a doorway. “See, like that! And then I’ll kick it in!"
Instead, Lucas adjusted his grip on the sword and pushed down. It moved slowly, like a knife through cold butter, but it did move. He could see just the faintest bit of meadow through the space it cut behind.
"You really—don’t like my ideas.” The monster whined.
Lucas knew better than to answer. The less he talked to the monster, the less it would learn about him, and the less it would be able to manipulate him. Also, he was having trouble thinking enough to form a sentence. Pushing the sword through the wall was very hard.
“Hey—hero boy.”
The end of the sword caught on the slope of the hill. Lucas pushed harder on the hilt, but the angle was all off. This slit wasn’t going to get any bigger. So he stepped backwards, tugging the sword out after him. Then he walked a few feet to the right, set the point of the sword at another spot in the wall, and pushed.
“Ugh, you’re so annoying!” The monster complained, “Aren’t you going to listen to me? Do I need to guess a secret code word or something?”
Lucas was already pushing the blade down again. He made quicker work this time, now that he had gotten used to the feel of it. The hard part would be cutting the line at the top. Maybe the bottom was not attacked, and he could push the whole thing in like a tent flap?
“Okay I’m just gonna tell you even if you are ignoring me. I think the big monster on that hill is watching you.”
Startling, Lucas looked up towards the hill, but he could not see anything. There was a magical wall in the way.
“See that’s why I’m telling you. You can’t see it because you won’t let go of the sword.”
Grunting, Lucas went back to pushing the blade through to the bottom. He could not figure out if the imp was lying or not, but he had already decided not to let go of the sword for one minute. And in the end, it would not matter so much if a monster found him. He was going to fight them at some point.
“Okaaaaay—I really think he’s looking at us. And the wall is only stopping you, he can walk through. Oh, but maybe if you stand in front of him with the sword, then he won’t get through the wall. Wait—no, you’re cutting a hole in it."
Reaching the bottom of the stroke, Lucas pulled the sword out again and stepped back to look at his work. There were two perpendicular slits in the wall. He could try to make a square, but the only reason he had been able to make the other cuts was because gravity had been on his side. He was not sure if he was strong enough to cut sideways. Now that he was really thinking about it, he probably should have made a triangle. That way he could have cut down for at least two of the sides. But his arms were getting tired, and he had not even fought anything yet. He had better try to push the piece he had cut before he went off and made a whole separate shape.
"Wait, but you wanted to fight the monsters in there. Is that why you need to get through?"
For the second time that day, Lucas set his shoulder and rammed it into the wall. The results were about the same as before. The bottom of the wall must be firmly attached to the ground, or else, he was just too weak to move it.
"Oh I see,” the imp said.
Lucas jumped out of the way as it floated up behind him—but it made no move to attack. Instead, it went forward toward the wall until its breath could touch it. It stood there for a moment, misshapen arms hanging at its sides. Lucas almost missed the change, but his eyes were sharp, and he heard the movement in the static as it happened. The shadows that clung against the edges of the stones in the wall and under the blades of grass on the ground sprung up and covered the imp’s fists like a gauntlet. As soon as its hands were covered, the imp planted one on the ground. With the other, it pushed against the wall.
Slowly, the remaining pieces cracked along the bottom of the wall, and the whole thing swung up like a door turned sideways.
Before anything else could happen, Lucas darted through the opening and up the hill. The long grass tangled against his legs, and his pants got wet with dew. In the small part of his mind that was always thinking mundane things, he thought this was strange. The sun had only just set—it was too early for the dew to form. The night must have stretched longer here.
There was a tall figure standing behind Jonack’s house. Lucas crouched a little at the end of his approach, but he knew he had been seen already. Even if the snap of the wall had been subtle, his weapon stuck out like a deer’s tail in a dark forest. Creeping slowly forward, he came into the shadow of the house. The figure still did not move to attack him. That was when Lucas noticed—it was not gangly enough to be like the monster he had fought before. This creature’s proportions were too human.
“Jonack,” Lucas whispered, “Is that you there?"
He stepped forward as he spoke, and soon the light of the sword reached the man’s face, revealing his features. Jonack turned to look at him, blinking. "Lucas?”
“What happened?” Lucas demanded.
Jonack shook his head, like he had just woken up and was trying to push the sleep away. “Happened? We were talking—how is it night already?"
"There’s monsters attacking,” Lucas said, “Did you see everything? Where is everybody?”
“Are they not inside?” Jonack asked.
In response, Lucas walked over and opened the door to the house. Moonlight streamed in from the far window, just illuminating the figures huddled around the table. William and Rheanna were missing. Everyone else sat just as they had been hours ago.
Hurrying to the end of the table, Lucas shook Chizzy’s shoulder. “Hey, wake up!” he told her, “There’s monsters and you need to get everyone away!”
Chizzy startled, jumping up from her seat. “What—what’s going on?"
"I just told you,” Lucas said, turning back to face Jonack. “The two of you need to—”
Jonack stood motionless in the doorway.
Lucas looked at him, form tinged blue in the moonlight, then down at his own arm, at the warm circle on the floor where the light of his sword fell the strongest.
“Okay,” he said, “Okay."
"Lucas?” Chizzy asked.
“We’re going to get everybody out,” Lucas said, “But I need you to stand close to me."
"You should use the necklace!”
Lucas jumped back from the imp which had just appeared—it was hovering between the table and the counter, but all he could see of it were eyes.
“Wait—you hate my ideas,” it continued, “Um, what I meant was don’t tie your necklace around anyone’s neck or anything because it definitely won’t help them move around.”
“Why are you here?” Lucas demanded, pointing his sword at the creature for good measure.
“Lucas?” Chizzy said again, clutching his shoulder as if he might blow away. It was pretty obnoxious, but he couldn’t blame her. This was a scary way to wake up.
“You all have to get out of here,” he said again, more to himself than to anyone. He wriggled out of Chizzy’s grasp and hurried to the back door, setting the sword on the counter. Then he dug in his pocket for the necklace. He didn’t like this—didn’t like listening to a monster. But it had helped with the wall, and as stupid as it felt to take the advice of an enemy, he was even stupider on his own. And he didn’t have time to learn the knowledge he was missing.
By the time Jonack roused himself enough to jerk his hand away, Lucas had already tied his broken necklace around the man’s wrist.
“What is going on?” Jonack demanded, voice low and stern.
“Don’t take that off,” Lucas said, “I need you to help me take everyone into the forest. There’s a break in the wall at the bottom of the hill.” Turning, he walked back towards the children at the table.
His shoulder brushed against something cold.
Lucas shoved it with his elbow, but the creature grabbed his arm and threw him backwards. Mid-air, he caught the blurred image of Jonack, now standing in the house. Then his shoulder slammed against the grass outside. He rolled away from the doorway and pressed himself against the wall of the house. The monster had already pounced on the place he had fallen. Neck bent, it sniffed the ground. Outside the house, Lucas could see it a little clearer. It was the same kind he had fought this afternoon.
The monster straightened, head pivoting, until its vacant eyes were fixed on Lucas’ hiding place.
Miraculously, Lucas still had the sword in one white knuckled hand. Just as the monster jumped at him again, he stepped forward and swung it wildly. Nothing connected, but the monster jumped back to get out of the way. That was progress—he could do this. Wrapping both hands around the hilt, he ran forward at the monster, moving the sword like he moved sticks to knock down spiderwebs on a forest path.
The world was dark behind the magic barrier, and the sword was unnaturally bright, and the two together made it impossible for Lucas’ eyes to adjust to either one. So he didn’t notice until he brought his sword down at the end of his charge—the monster had dodged completely out of his field of vision. There was nothing there except the hill and the forest and the sky.
Something grabbed his neck from behind.
Lucas swung the sword up and back at his attacker, but the monster caught his wrist. With its other hand, it held his arm out so that the sword pointed away. Lucas strained and twisted and did everything else that would have worked if he was trying to hold something out of William’s reach. The monster moved like iron, which is to say that it didn’t.
From the corner of his eye, Lucas saw the shadow imp. It was reaching carefully towards the other monster’s arm, watching to see if it would react. For a glorious moment he thought it had come to help again. Then the Imp started pulling at Lucas’ fingers. Lucas tried to yell at it, but the taller monster tightened it’s misshapen fingers around his throat. No sound came.
The imp was having trouble—it grabbed at his fingers the way he would grab for a coal that had fallen out of the fire. Lucas could read the movements though. He had spent plenty of time prying objects out of a younger child’s hand. But here was nowhere to move. He could do nothing but sit and watch as the imp worked his grip lose.
The sword slipped from his fingers and fell to the ground. Instantly, the other monster stepped back, pulling him away from it. Lucas had just enough time to begrudgingly admire the coordination of the monsters’ attacks before he was pulled out from the circle of light and his vision went black.
