Chapter 7
1001 Words
“The storm threatens some other place; another kingdom entirely ...”
“What business is it of ours if some other encampment is—”
“Silence, I say!” barked Galaren, rising from his chair. “We will reconvene on the matter this afternoon—when I’ve had time to reflect. Until then I would remind you of the Code we live by. You are dismissed.”
At which the gathered knights rose and filed out, some still arguing amongst themselves, and the king and queen were left alone (for Mercurius, after nodding to Galaren gravely, had filed out as well).
“You are troubled, my king and lord. I can feel it around you like a cloud.”
But Galaren only sat in silence; staring at the table, staring at nothing.
“I don’t know what to do,” he said at last, softly, stoically. “I haven’t since taking the throne. It was all so easy before ... so free and unfettered—so intuitive.” He looked out at the water almost mournfully. “How I long to be on the quest again ... where there was nothing but Scar thundering beneath me and Blood Zephyr at my side—and the potentiality of your love to guide me, to spur me on. Now it’s just politics and maneuvering and logistics ... deciding what stands or falls, deciding who lives ... and who dies.” He looked at Emeline forlornly. “I know not what to do, Emeline.”
Yet Emeline just studied him—calmly, assuredly, as though already confident in the outcome. “What does your heart tell you, Sir Galaren?”
And then someone else was speaking; someone I didn’t even recognize at first; someone who’s voice was so much harsher yet no less concerned—a voice I finally realized was Lisa’s. “You’re a fool, Nick Callahan. A fool. But I suppose you already knew that.”
I blinked and looked around—even as Puck licked my face—realized my pants were partly wet from the surf; that I’d buckled and was on my knees in the sand. “Jesus. What—what happened?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “But I know what’s going to happen.”
She threw down the welder’s mitt. “Put it on.”
I waved off the shepherd and looked at the mitt—still feeling disoriented—and then at the eyes, which were milky, nacreous. “But—but there’s still so much to witness, to learn—to experience. Can’t you see it? A great riddle is unfolding right before my eyes. An enigma. Surely you don’t expect me to stop just when—”
“When they’re sucking the life right out of you? Try me.” She nudged the glove closer with her foot. “Put it on, Nick. Put in on or so help me—”
Puck barked as if to concur.
And then I was up; I was up and stumbling down the beach. Then I was cradling my hand even as a fifth eye opened and blinked away slime; as my whole body jolted and I found myself in a crowd—in a throng; in a packed amphitheater somewhere near Paradise, Montana.
––––––––
“Order, order, can we please have order?” It wasn’t even noon and Bella Ray was already exhausted—I knew because I could see how ragged she looked, how ragged everyone looked. “Travis, you have the floor.”
The young man stood even as another man, a veritable whale of a man nicknamed “Gojira,” rushed him a microphone. “Yes—well ... thank you.” He squared his shoulders and made a salute. “Travis Hayes: UPS delivery driver from Denver, Colorado—and former US Marine. And this here is Eska,” He indicated the harsh looking but strangely beautiful woman seated next to him. “We’re from Edmonton. And while I know we haven’t been here for very long; I have to say—this is just nuts. I mean, it was obviously some type of summons—why can’t some of you accept that? More, it was an urgent summons; meaning we don’t have time for all this arg—”
“So what are you saying?” shouted someone named Sheila— who looked as though she’d had a few. “That we should just march off like myrmidons to fight—what, exactly? A storm? The wind?”
Muted laughter as a dark-haired man standing near Travis raised his hand.
“Francis,” said Bella Ray—indicating the mic should be given to him. “Go.”
“Ah—” He took the cordless mic and placed it near his lips. “Test, test ... Okay.” He cleared his throat. “This is in response to Sheila. Because, what you don’t understand, Miss, is that that was no mere wind—it was a conduit; and in that conduit I could hear them,” He looked at the sky; at the Flashback Borealis—now diminished by the sun—and the drifting lights (which were of a color no one had ever seen). “Which I have heard before, as you know.” He indicated the crowd. “As everyone knows. Because the truth is, I have been closer to their dark materials than anyone—anyone here in Barley, that’s for sure. And I am telling you: there was something in their voices this time that wasn’t there before, something, I think, that they’ve never experienced. And that’s fear.”
At which the amphitheater fell ghostly silent, at least for a moment.
“Well, fear of what, exactly?” called a man with a stump for a hand (his name was Roger), at last. “They’re sure as hell not afraid of us.”
- Writer
