Mantle: The Return of the Sha (25 page)

The Loper Doors weren’t really typical doors at all. They were sections of the city wall itself, the stones of the wall making up the doors so that, were it not for the locking mechanisms, one might not even recognize it as a door at all. The weight of the section of wall that must be pulled using the iron rings was so great, that only Lopers had the ability to open them—hence the name.

Pike took hold of the iron handle protruding from the crossbar and easily slid it to the right, out of the iron jam. He then took both of the iron rings in his hands and began to pull. At first, he could not get the stone wall to budge, and he could feel the pain in his shoulder creeping in. But once he heard the yelling of guards between the booming of the shed, the sound of his possible capture seemed to intensify his strength and the door began to slowly come outward.

When the door had been opened wide enough for him to slip through, he pulled a burning torch from the wall and entered the darkness of it. The air tasted old and just entering the small cold space seemed to awaken the dust that had settled—
a hundred years ago, a thousand?

He once again took the iron rings from this side of the door and began to pull. It was much easier from this direction, and the door fell into place quickly. He pulled the crossbar so that anyone looking from the other side would not know that the door had been used, and then turned his attention to the door behind him, leading out of the wall and out of the city.

The setup of the outside door was the same, the only difference being that he would push it out instead of pulling it in. Once he was able to slip out, he looked around to ensure that he was not being watched, and pushed the door back into place.

The city sat elevated on this side, and Pike found himself looking down into what might be called a small valley. To his left there were long rows of dirt streets lined with small homes, illuminated by street torches placed on wooden poles. To his right he could barely make out in the moonlight, what seemed to be farmland stretching out into the distance.

He turned left, meaning to walk along the side of the wall as long as he could. He would make his way to the same gate that Miss Lizabet and Mr. Dorian had left by. He knew their path from there and would try to catch up to them if he could—help them if he could. After all, he had nothing to return to at Obengaard now. Upon his capture, he would be jailed and quickly tried for his crimes. His family would shun him and he would be abandoned.

The guards on that side of the wall might no longer be distracted, but the moonlight, combined with the light gray color of his skin, provided an almost perfect camouflage. As he walked along the side of the wall, he could only hope that Lizabet and Dorian had made it out safe. In his heart he somehow knew that they had.

****

Although Lizabet and Dorian would take the shorter route to catch up to Balki and the queen, they would pass through the Hidden Forest, which would be difficult on horseback. The trees of the Hidden were gigantic, usually obscured by clouds at their tops. They were even larger than the Sovereign Trees, although the trees of the Hidden were much younger and had no connection to them.

The base of each tree could be as wide as the length of three horses standing one in front of the other. They often grew close together, creating small paths between them to walk through, but not wide enough for horses to pass. So they would be required to find larger openings in order to accommodate them.

This constant change of direction to find routes that the horses could maneuver through would increase their chances of getting lost, but they had no choice if they were going to avoid abandoning them. Of course neither of them had ever been to the Hidden Forest—had ever been
anywhere
, really. They would have no choice but to trust their instinct and sense of direction.

When they reached the Hidden Forest, they rode in only deep enough to set camp. They needed to try getting at least some sleep. They would not journey through the Hidden without their wits intact. They had heard tales of the forest, and hoped that at least
some
of the stories they had heard were nothing more than exaggerations and maid’s tales.

Although the sun had now fully risen, the canopy of the trees created a darkness in the forest as though it were just after sunset. What little sunlight did make it through the canopy seemed to be absorbed by the rich black soil of the forest floor.

They had remained mostly silent during their ride from Obengaard, both of them grappling with the decision they had made and the danger that they now embraced wholeheartedly. Now, as they got down from their horses in a small clearing that they silently agreed upon, with a quick glance to each other, Lizabet broke the silence with only a whisper. It didn’t feel quite right to speak in normal tones.

“I’m glad that you came,” she said.

“I am too,” Dorian agreed. “I would like to thank Pike right about now. I hope he hasn’t found trouble by helping us. Somehow I feel as though he has.”

Lizabet looked at him. His eyes were directed down at his boots.

“Dorian, you have a touch of intuition as I’ve never seen. Why would you say such a thing? Do you know it to be true?”

“No,” Dorian answered, “I do not
know
it. I just have a feeling, but perhaps my feeling is mistaken. It does happen you know—although only occasionally.”

He was failing miserably at holding back a smile now, and Lizabet couldn’t help but returning a smile of her own. Yes, they were caught in the grips of an adventure now that might lead to their demise, but that didn’t mean that their mood could not be light.

“Well, I hope that your
feelings
can help us through the forest without losing our way. I’ve heard stories of people entering the Hidden, never to be seen again and thought lost.”

She half grinned, but there was seriousness in her tone.

“I’ve heard the same, but if you listen closely to the telling of those stories, you’ll notice that all of those that are considered lost were also called
fools
when their tale was told. I do not think us fools.”

“Nor do I,” Lizabet said. “Let’s get some sleep before we move on. I don’t think it will matter if we travel by day or night. The forest will be dark no matter which.”

Dorian agreed, and pulled the bundle from his horse. Lizabet did the same, and when she set the roll on a rock and unrolled it, she produced the sword that she had taken from the armory weeks earlier. She had been taking instruction in using the sword, and had taken to it naturally.

“We’ll be wise to keep company of our weapons while we sleep, I think,” Lizabet said.

“Yes,” Dorian said, pulling his own sword from his bundle. He had taken his father’s sword, and knew that there would be a price to pay when his father got hold of him, but he pushed the thought from his mind. His punishment for taking the sword was trivial in their current situation. Any punishment would be perfectly acceptable to him.

They set a simple camp and laid down next to each other, each of them clutching the hilt of a sword.

****

Pike set off from the gate that Lizabet and Dorian had left by. He knew the route, and the place where the road would split. The road to his right would follow the direction that the king had taken, and the left would lead into the Hidden Forest—and the direction of Miss Lizabet and Mr. Dorian.

Although the others had been on horseback, Pike would have no trouble catching up to them on foot. His legs were long, and even a brisk walk would equal that of a trotting horse. He moved quickly, his gray skin only a shimmer in the moonlight.

Once he got to the fork in the road, he could clearly see the tracks of two horses leading to the left. He wondered for a moment if they had not thought to cover their tracks, or if they somehow knew that any pursuers that might be sent for them would not dare follow them into the Hidden Forest. He thought probably the latter.

He followed Lizabet and Dorian’s tracks down the road, and when they finally broke off and led into the forest, Pike’s nerves nearly got the best of him. He began to breathe heavily and talking to himself for strength.

You must

For the queen

You’ve already done so much

Just a little more

Be brave

One more long breath and he began to walk, more slowly now, but he would have their company soon and the thought was reassuring.

****

It was only the cracking of branches that Dorian heard at first. He had been sleeping lightly, his thoughts preventing him from crossing the invisible border of the dream world. The snapping of twigs pulled the haze from his mind and he opened his eyes to see Lizabet sleeping soundly next to him, both hands now grasping her sword. Her eyes fluttered as if dreaming—
at least
she
made it over that invisible border
.

As he pulled himself up to rest on his elbows, he scanned the forest around the camp. He saw nothing, but took up the sword that lay next to him and slowly lifted himself to a crouching position.

As quietly as he could, he walked slowly in the direction of the noise, his sword held out in front of him. When he reached a tree, he stood against it waiting for another hint of the intruder’s location. He was not disappointed when he clearly heard footsteps crunching on the dry forest floor. He peered from around the massive trunk of the tree, and saw the gray hand reaching around another tree not far from him.

He would recognize the hand anywhere—it was Pike.

He stepped from his place against the tree.

“Pike!” he said. He meant to speak louder, but it came out as a whisper, as if he had no control of his own voice.

“Pike,” he said once more, walking toward him.

This time Pike heard him and stepped out from behind the tree, head hanging as if he had done something wrong—which in
his
mind he had. The plan had never been for him to join them.

“Pike, what are you doing here?” Dorian asked with a look of shock and confusion on his face.

Lizabet, who had been awakened by the sound of Dorian’s voice, was now running to them. Pike only stood silently.

“Oh my Fathers!” Lizabet said in a gasp. “Pike, how did you…how are you here?”

“I was caught,” he replied, head still hanging in shame.

“Come, tell us,” Lizabet said gently. She could see that he was distressed and would not be so cruel as to make matters worse by scolding him.

Pike sat down on a large rock and told them the story of his escape from Obengaard after lighting the Emm’s powder shed ablaze. Lizabet and Dorian kept quiet and listened, Dorian sometimes pacing back and forth in seemingly deep thought and Lizabet tending to the wounds that Pike had received during his escape. They hadn’t known of the Loper Doors, and Lizabet thought now that the doors might have made their departure much easier, had they known of them. But she would not blame a Loper for not having the forethought to make such a suggestion. In fact, she would have been
surprised
if he would have suggested it. It was not in their nature to think in such ways.

When he was done telling them all that had happened, they sat quiet for what seemed a long while, until Dorian finally broke the silence.

“I suppose you’re with us then,” he said without emotion. He was beginning to accept each circumstance as simply another tool of destiny. There was nothing they could do to change Pike’s dilemma, so he would accept it.

Lizabet thought that he would slow their travels, but she also realized that there was no other choice. And, she thought,
who knows, maybe he will lend to our success.

“Yes, you are with us,” she said. “By all my Fathers, from here out we are three.”

****

As they rode, Bella could feel the air getting warmer as they went further east, and she had to keep reminding Balki that she would require food and drink—things that he seemed to have abandoned. She saw him eat and drink once, but it was not much, and she assumed that the creature who had possessed him would only need his body to be fed enough to be functional for their journey—
which is undoubtedly a one-way trip for Balki Touro
, she thought with a twinge of satisfaction.

“Tell me, Balki Touro, where are you taking me?” Bella asked. “Or is it the
Other
that I should be asking? I assume a man such as yourself would know absolutely nothing, Mr. Touro. After all, you would neither have the backbone to conceal it nor the wits to understand it.”

Her tone was riddled with sarcasm, as she meant it to be. She would try to incite jealousy and disdain in Balki, in the hopes of making him unbearable to the
Other
.

“Shut up!” he screamed.

It was the voice of Balki, and she could hear his frustration at not being allowed to physically harm or kill her as he would like.