Chapter 34

After a restless night punctuated with blocks of dreamless sleep, Aden climbed back up to the tower to observe the mad creature below. The king appeared to be sleeping, but Aden was not fooled as he caught the flit of silver across the skin every moment or so.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Captain Ellingwood asked.

“Eager to start my day,” Aden said, nodding to the figure below. “He is lying in wait for us.”

“Harassing the enemy is an age-old tradition,” the captain said. “Why don’t you send him a wake-up call? I insist.”

Aden aimed his sword carefully as he charged it fully. Checking his angle twice, he loosed several beads of phyzeec in a line. The beads struck the ground, kicking up dirt, rocks and sticks and showering them on the creature.

The creature yowled some incomprehensible sentences and leapt into the air as if it had been shot and thrown backwards by the force of the hit. A full sheen of silver emerged and coated the pink body for a moment before it seemingly melted back into the body. The mad king began to curse Aden’s ancestors in colorful language.

“Well, that was good for a moment’s entertainment,” the captain said. “Let us grab a breakfast and prepare for the day. We will have one resolution or another by tonight.”

The words sounded ominous to Aden, but he had signed off on the battleplan before he turned in last night. The only surprise was that he was not quaking in his boots. All he had to his name were a few clothes and a passel of memories. Bruel had cheated when he fought Aden with the same weapon as the mad king’s, but Aden had survived, overcoming a second unsuspected attack. He was no longer ignorant, and he was no longer alone. More to the point, he was fighting for something he believed in and wanted, when he was never sure what he wanted when he faced Bruel.

“I may die today, but I am blessed,” Aden said, softly as he came down the stairs. “I have made peace with all whom I have met and gained some respect. Not bad for the runt son of a windrider. I wish I had a maid warm my bed last night though; can’t have everything.”

The mood in the mess was subdued with a thread of energy running underneath. As Aden scanned the room, he witnessed men who were focused, taking advantage of a warm meal, and preparing themselves for the events of the day. The governor strode in with a large sack in his hand, a sack that Aden recognized. He had not looked in the bag since they emerged from the hidden tunnel, nor was he entirely sure just how much they had scooped out of the bin in their haste.

The buzz of conversation picked up as the governor zigzagged his way around the soldier and plopped the bag on the table in front of Aden. With flourish, the governor reached behind him and pulled out a pair of calf-skin gloves and placed them next to the bag. Aden rose from his seat while tugging a slightly small glove over his right hand. He reached inside the sack and rolled his fingers through the grains. He pulled out his hand with surprise.

“Some of the salts have clumped together,” Aden said, holding a small ball of the reddish salts in his hand.”

“Let me see,” Ezza said, pushing through the onlookers. He used his fingernail to push around the ball of salt in Aden’s palm. “We can use this. Bruder, get your butt over here.”

Aden watched the young man shove aside some the older soldiers and make his way to the table. “Sir?”

“Can you throw this clump with your sling?” Ezza said. He looked up at Aden. “He chases off predators when he is watching the sheep.”

“I don’t know how tight that mound is, sir,” Bruder said. “We may have to add some clay to make it more solid.” The young man appeared oblivious to all the eyes watching him and ears listening. “Sticky clay may help the salt stick to that pink skin, holding it there longer.”

Ezza and Bruder looked at captain who just nodded at them, lifting his index finger, flexing it. Ezza picked up the sack in one hand and grabbed the arm of the young man with the other. They flew out of the room and disappeared. Bruder reappeared a moment later, snatched the glove on the table and took Aden’s as well. Then the young man ran off.

As the sun dipped towards the western horizon, a great commotion was heard in the area of the cesspools behind the fort. No one was standing on the ramparts and complete silence was kept inside the walls.

“You cannot escape me,” the mad king screamed. Launching himself in a peculiar gliding gait, he appeared to float above the debris field. His body began flashing its peculiar silver lining more rapidly as the creature trundled to the corner and carried itself towards the south corner.

As soon as he disappeared around the corner, the front gate opened and two groups of three pushed themselves through the barrier. They had only a few minutes before the methane bombs depleted their supply of gas. Aden could have groused about all his good work repairing the system going to waste, but the captain beat him to it, insisting that any repairs were covered by the guarantee and service contract.

The two groups clambered over the rocks, boulders, and shredded trees to either side of the cleared space that mad king had been using. They each dug a pit with a small shovel and their hands and covered it with worn blanket. Propping up the blanket with whatever was handy, the last man covered his pit with the more rubble and climbed underneath to join his fellows.

They had hardly caught their breath when the creature came racing around the corner as fast as its body could carry it, which was more of a trot and not close to a canter. It was spewing invectives and curses at the wall in a whiny voice that made Aden’s face twitch. The mad king told them what a stupid plan they had, creating a ruse in back and thinking they could escape out the front door to safety. To make his point, he picked up a boulder and hurtled it at the wall. He laughed, mocking them for their impotence.

Aden willed himself to stay still. Pulling from his earliest practices, he began with his fingers and toes, slowing moving up his limbs as he released the tension from each muscle. Reaching his chest, he calmed his breathing as slow as he dared, knowing from practice that his heartbeat would follow. He was rock, resting on the surface tension of water and there was no ripple.

He waited, unconcerned about the creature or the time of day. When the bottom of the sun touched the tip of the highest tree, his companion on his right nudged him. They could not really see much at all, catching glimpses of movement through the slight slivers of light. They could hear the ranting and raving, and being so close, they could catch the mumbling that was ceaseless when the creature was not screaming.