The Fog of Forgetting (15 page)

Evelyn stumbled. Chase caught her arm as she tripped. She looked up at him, her brown eyes black with grief. He tried to think of something to say but came up blank.

Seaborne stopped beside them, carrying a sleeping Teddy on his back.

“Best not to linger here,” he prodded. “Carry on.”

Nightfall found the Melorians, the boys, and Evelyn traveling along a wide dirt road cut through sparse woodlands and rolling hills of increasingly cultivated land. To the northeast, a snowcapped mountain range filled the horizon. As the sun passed into the west, the mountains turned a light, then deeper shade of purple. A cluster of round, thatched houses came into view, tucked deftly into low-lying hills. Thin streams of smoke rose from the chimneys. Knox saw a flock of sheep dotting a distant meadow. In between stands of trees, large rectangles of tilled earth, orchards, and undulating crops of grain waved at them as they passed. Rothermel sent a few Melorians to gather food from the nearest houses to supplement their store. He led the rest off the main road, through a thicket of trees, and into the protected meadow of a valley, which lay hidden between two forested hills and abutted a small, reed-filled pond at its far end. This deep into the safety of the Wold, they would build an open fire and cook their first hot meal in days.

“It's very strange,” Chase said aloud, warming his hands at the edge of the blazing fire.

“What?” Evelyn replied. She was sitting a few feet off. Mara hovered behind her at a comfortably close distance, as she had ever since they'd left Seaborne's cabin. Chase nodded to the fire.

“That something that feels so good can be so bad.”

Evelyn put her face between her knees, feeling the heat creep over the top of her head. The sharp thing in her chest was jabbing at her, threatening to shred her insides apart. She prayed that Frankie was feeling the good part.

F
rankie kept her eyes fixed on the path, stumbling behind the strange man, resting only to eat and drink. She did not see what the Exorian soldiers ate, but took what was offered to her: an orange and another fruit that reminded her of a tomato, and some flat, bland-tasting bread. She ate hesitantly at first, but with more gusto as the day and night went by. The march seemed unending. She stopped asking where they were going, or when they would get there, since the only answers she received were curt, one-word replies.

The first day, the woods they traveled through were familiar enough that her fear began to lift. The man, whom she had taken to calling Louis in her head (a name she remembered from a history book), hinted at the fact that she would see Evelyn and the Thompson boys soon.

Frankie had no idea in what direction they were heading. At one point they crossed a wide river mouth on wooden rafts that the Exorians had stashed in the forest, and then it seemed to her that they turned away from the sea. The forest slowly flattened, and the tree cover became increasingly sparse, interspersed with large, grassy meadows. The air around her was gold in the late afternoon light, and her surroundings felt somehow comforting. She allowed herself to hum under her breath as she walked, one of the songs her father had sung to her when she was a baby. The man—“Louis”—walked behind her. He stopped her, abruptly grabbing her shoulder.

“What are you doing?” he demanded.

“I'm humming,” replied Frankie, surprised.

“Stop it.”

“Why? What's wrong with humming?”

“In Exor, such things are forbidden.”

Frankie shook her head, perplexed. “You're not allowed to hum in Exor? Why? What's wrong with humming?”

“It is a useless distraction.”

Frankie shrugged. “I like it.” She hummed a little louder.

The man whirled her around to face him.

“What you like doesn't matter. There is no purpose to it. In Exor, everything must have a purpose.”

“People too?”

“Yes.”

“What's your purpose?”

“To serve Dankar.”

“Humming stops you from serving Dankar? That doesn't make any sense. Lots of people hum when they're doing other stuff.”

The man's eyes widened. Frankie couldn't be sure, but she thought his mouth twitched upward. He dismissed her with a wave and indicated for her to get moving. After a moment, he spoke again.

“It doesn't matter whether it makes sense, only that it is forbidden. Exorians are not allowed to make music.”

“That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard,” said Frankie. “What else aren't you allowed to do?”

The man hesitated, then answered by rote. “All Exorians must put Dankar's wishes and work above their own, and hold no one more dear than he.”

Frankie mouthed the words to herself.

“Exor must be very boring,” she said. “I don't know who Dankar is, but he sounds mean and selfish. His rules don't apply to me. I'm not an Exorian.”

The man she called Louis half-smiled again. “I guess that's true—for the present. Go ahead. Hum while you can.” He pushed past her, and she followed, humming loudly.

After a few minutes, Louis stopped again. “What is it you hum?”

“It's a song called ‘Frère Jacques'—it's French.” She sang the words, ending with a loud chorus of “
Din-Dan-Don!
”

“Shhh,” ordered Louis, casting a look at the mottled backs of the Exorians marching a little ways ahead. He raised an eyebrow. “French?”

“Yes, French. Not everyone speaks English, you know.”

“So, you speak French, too?” Louis asked.

“I used to. In Haiti—where I lived before. My father was from Canada. They speak French there, too. And in France, they speak French, obviously.”

“Walk.” Louis prodded Frankie with his finger. “We speak with one tongue on Ayda. I do not understand how it would be to live amongst those who spoke another.”

“It's like a code. Once you know what the words mean, it's the same. Here, I'll teach you.” She pointed to a tree in the distance. “Tree …
l'arbre
.” Then to the sky. “Sky …
le ciel
.” She pointed to Louis. “Man:
l'homme
.” Then to her pink-clad feet, “Feet:
les pieds
.”

Louis was silent, thinking.

“Tell me what the song says,” he said.

Frankie was happy to oblige now that he was being nicer to her. She felt sort of sorry for him, not being able to sing or hum or anything. They passed the last hour of daylight with Frankie telling Louis as many French words as she could think of. She walked ahead of him, so she couldn't see his expression, but he didn't ask her to stop. When they halted for the night, he gave her an extra orange to eat. She felt confident enough to ask him a few more questions.

“Are we near my sister? Will I see her soon?”

“Soon enough,” Louis answered, but with less coldness than before. “First there is a task for the warriors to complete.”

That night the light shone dimly from a waxing moon above the barest outline of a mountain range lying inland. Frankie was given strict instructions to keep quiet and stay hidden. She slept for a few hours underneath the stooped branches of a small bush, wrapped in her poncho, but was awakened by a sudden awareness of a shift in her surroundings. She knelt and pushed away the leaves to get a better view. What she saw drained any remaining warmth from her bones.

A large group of Exorian warriors, many more than the three that had accompanied them, were amassed in front of Louis. All were armed with broad, spiked shields and tall spears. Two giant black cats threaded their way through the warriors' legs, tongues panting through their open jaws.

Louis had his head bent toward one of the warriors, listening intently to whatever was being said. By the look of it, some kind of report. Frankie knew, instinctively, that whatever it was, it had to do with Evelyn and the boys. The Melorians must be close. Her heart leapt at the idea. She had to warn them! Maybe she could use a Melorian whistle signal—if she could escape.

Frankie crept across the grass without a sound. She was grateful for the camouflage of her poncho. When she was close enough to Louis to hear his voice, she stopped and moved to the side, hoping he would not look in her direction. The Exorians brought the hilts of their spears down hard on the ground and yelled as one. The tips of their spears burst into flame simultaneously and their eyes flickered orange. The panthers screamed and leapt to the front, baring their teeth. Frankie fell back in fear. When the last whoop of the cry had grown quiet, Louis stepped into the band of light created by the torches. The Exorians turned toward him with their blank, orange eyes and ruined skin. Louis raised his arms over his head in salute.

“In the name of Dankar, Keeper of the stone of Exor, go now and do what you must to bring the outlier children to me—unharmed,” he cried. “Many daylights will be freed tonight—but do not be afraid, brothers—the day we have long awaited approaches.” Louis's voice grew louder; he walked a few steps back and forth.

“The outliers are to be brought to Dankar. Those who do not heed his bidding shall know the measure of his wrath.” He paused to let this sink in, then repeated: “Deliver them alive and unharmed. Kill the rest.” He looked at the panthers. “And the dogs.”

The Exorians lowered their spears, thudding the ends on the ground, chanting “Ex-or! Ex-or!”

Frankie covered her ears. One of the warriors caught the movement; his head snapped toward her hiding place. The chanting ceased abruptly. Fifty or more pairs of blazing eyes were glued to her. Frankie's heart stopped. The chanting began again, spears pounding faster and faster. Louis whipped around in alarm.

“Get back!” he yelled.

Frankie quickly retreated into the shadows.

Louis's voice rose high above the chanting. “Melorian daylights await the release of your torches.” He paced in front of the place where Frankie had lain. “Go! Free the daylights of your brothers and sisters, chained and misled by the lies of Rothermel. Bring the others to me!”

The Exorians shouted in unison and took off in a sprint. They made a burning line as they spread out across the forest floor. Frankie lay flat on the ground, her blood pounding in her ears. After several minutes, she heard Louis calling.

“I know you are here,” he said. His voice was back to normal.

She did not reply.

“Ahh.” He was directly above her. She sighed into the ground and rolled over, looking up into his face.

“That was foolish,” he said flatly

“What are those … those
things
going to do?” Frankie squeaked. “You talked about freeing daylights and bringing outliers here. You sent them—” She shuddered. “You sent them after my sister?” A surge of rage passed through her, raising her to her feet. “And I … I was beginning to think you were nice!” She felt the blood rush to her face, waves of heat radiating from beneath her hood. She wished she had her knife. She wouldn't think twice about driving it straight into Louis's heart, if he even had one.

“STAY AWAY FROM ME!” she screamed, running away from him as fast as she could, trying to follow the line she remembered the Exorians taking, but it was dark and she had no idea where she was going. Branches whipped at her face and her calves as she ran, her legs pumping through the brush. She would find her sister and the boys. She would warn the Melorians. She just had to run a little faster. Her foot snagged on a root and her legs suddenly buckled under her. She pitched forward, tumbling blindly down a steep incline. On instinct, she twisted her body as she rolled to take the force of the impact on her side; her hips and elbows smashed painfully into rocks that lay half-buried in the hill. Finally, she came to a stop, slamming her head hard into the trunk of a tree. For a minute, the night seemed to grow bright with stars; then everything faded into an all-too familiar blackness.

C
hase had only just fallen asleep when Seaborne was yelling in his ear.

“Get up, boy, now, and man your weapons!”

He tumbled out of his hammock, landing facedown on the ground and struggling to remember where he was. When he raised his head, the campsite was in complete confusion. His first thought was that the fire had not been properly put out, because an explosion of flames as tall as the treetops reached into the air. He could feel the heat on his face even though he was at least fifty feet away. Above the roar of the blaze, he heard the clash of metal against metal.

“Holy crap!” Knox exclaimed, standing above Chase, his eyes wild. He was strapping on his harness. “Look at them!”

A deadly skirmish played out before them, backlit by the fire. Chase could just make out black huddles of quick-moving shapes. Two figures broke free and moved closer. One was a Melorian warrior judging by the man's height and his helmet. The other, shorter and heavier, held back the rain of blows from the Melorian's sword. He wore no armor, but wielded a long, pointed shield in one hand and a burning spear in the other. The Melorian redoubled his efforts, but his opponent held his ground, raising the shield and advancing with the burning spear tip. Chase watched helplessly as the flames made contact with the Melorian's tunic. It burst into flame as if it had been dipped in oil. The Melorian screamed and clawed at the leather straps of his breastplate. He dropped to the ground and rolled. The attacker raised his shield high, ready to strike a killing blow. Chase closed his eyes; he couldn't bear to watch. An arrow whistled behind his right ear with a high-pitched
twang
. His eyes shot open. The attacker stumbled and dropped his shield, an arrow shaft sticking out of his shoulder. Calla came abreast of the boys, her bow raised.

“An Exorian raiding party!” she yelled. “Gather the others and take them around to the pond.”

Before he could reply, Seaborne whirled out of the flames, his long sword gleaming in the firelight. He looked at Knox, then pulled Chase to his feet.

“Skirt the edges of the fighting, the long way. Keep to the trees. Around there—” Seaborne gesticulated wildly to the forested hem of the meadow to the east.

In a flash, Chase saw the trouble they were in. The Exorians had blocked the only retreat from the V of the valley. The hills were too thick with trees to make an escape, and the pond lay as a barrier at the other end. The only way out was to push the Exorians back toward the main road—and they would not go easy. He'd fallen asleep in what he thought was a safe refuge and awoken to a death trap.

“Mara will take Evelyn. She will wait for you until the others are safe.” Seaborne shot a long look at Calla. “If you know what's good for you, you'll go with them.”

Calla shook her head.

“Well, come on then, if you must. And strike hard—the devils have skin like leather.” He sprinted into the fray, Calla hot on his heels.

Knox grabbed Chase's shoulder. “C'mon, let's go!” he shouted.

Chase yanked on his brother's tunic with his free hand. “No!” He had to yell at the top of his lungs to be heard over the hissing and popping of the fire. “We're going to do what Seaborne said! We have to get Teddy and go to the pond.”

Knox stared at him, not believing his ears. “You've got to be kidding! Why did they train us to use these weapons if not to fight! You do what you want, but I'm not running away!” Knox tore himself away and leapt into the skirmish.

“KNOX!” Chase screamed.

“What'th happening?” asked Teddy, his face dusky with sleep. “Where'th Theaborne?”

Chase grabbed him by the hand. Holding his sword with his right hand and Teddy with his left, he took off running as fast as he could, keeping to the shadows beyond the large circle of firelight. The heat was intense. His nostrils and lungs burned with smoke and filaments of burning ash. Through streaming eyes and breaks in the flame, he could see fighting, but not Knox.

He was breathing in great raspy breaths now, his lungs constricting with the thick veil of smoke hovering at eye level. How long before the beast took over? He was stronger on Ayda, he'd walked far enough to prove that, but the combination of smoke, fear, and running might be too much for his lungs to handle. Chase maneuvered farther away from the fire, trying to find cleaner air. To his horror, sparks streamed from the meadow where most of the fighting was taking place and into the forest canopy, landing on the tops of trees and instantly setting them ablaze. Soon they'd be in the middle of an inferno. Anyone who wasn't killed would be cooked alive. Chase's lungs whistled. He couldn't catch his breath. They'd never make it. He dropped Teddy's hand.

“Tedders, you've got to run on your own now, okay?” Chase wheezed. “I'll be right behind you—run through the trees, straight to the pond. Don't stop. Don't look back. Just run. Fast as you can, okay? GO!”

Teddy nodded and made a wild dash, head down. Chase was winded and clumsy running with the sword, but he tried to keep pace beside his little brother. He could see the pond's edge shining in the refracted light of the raging fire, only a couple of hundred feet away. A few more seconds and they'd be there.

Out of nowhere, a shadow stepped into their path, dark and menacing but for the fire burning at the end of its long spear. Chase looked up into the hideous face of the Exorian, and felt whatever wisp of breath left inside his lungs evaporate. The Exorian's face, neck, and torso were scarred in dense, thick patches that looked impenetrable. Flames flickered in his eyes. He held his shield close to his body, his right hand extended with the burning spear.

Chase instinctively pulled Teddy behind him. The roar of the fire was deafening. The Exorian moved closer. In a moment, he would be close enough to touch Chase with the torch and it would all be over. He would die and Teddy would be taken to Exor to be made a slave—or killed. He wobbled and fell to his knees. The Exorian's grotesque lips turned up slightly at the edges, anticipating an easy victory.

Chase waited for the touch of flame, the searing pain, but was surprised to feel, instead, a cold wind coming from some unknown origin, soothing the back of his neck. It defied the heat and enveloped his chest, rising toward his mouth. For a moment, he could inhale deeply. The air that filled his lungs was pure and sweet. It tasted like new snow. He filled his lungs and felt his head clear. His fingers found the hilt of his sword, and he remembered that he was not helpless. He had been trained for this. He stood up, squared his shoulders, and drew the sword, grasping it with both hands. The Exorian frowned.

“Leave us ALONE!” Chase roared.

The Exorian lifted his spear and swung it at Chase, who—much to his own surprise—blocked it. His arm shook with a deep reverberation that meant his sword had hit metal. He recovered, advanced, and jabbed blindly with his blade, hoping to hit skin. He missed and the sword tip thudded against the thick hull of the shield. The Exorian stepped back. Encouraged, Chase lunged again and again, shouting.

“Run, Teddy, run to the pond! GO!”

Chase warded off another lunge by the flaming spear. Teddy sprinted to Chase's right, skirting the Exorian's shield, and headed straight for the pond. The Exorian did not follow, much to Chase's relief. Now all Chase had to do was distract him until Teddy was safely at the pond's edge. Mara would be there to protect him. Chase's arm muscles burned, his legs felt heavy, his reflexes slowed. He was coated with sweat—but he was breathing! With a step back, he turned to the side, barely avoiding the tip of the burning spear. He knew from watching the other skirmish that this was part of the Exorian's strategy: to wear him out and then set him on fire.

The Exorian glared at him. Chase took another step backwards and stumbled. The Exorian saw his chance and moved forward, the ball of flame at the end of the torch seeming to grow. It filled Chase's field of vision, erasing everything else. It blazed hotter and brighter; in moments it would be on his skin. Then suddenly, only inches away, it went out, like a snuffed candle. Chase gaped in amazement as the man before him fell to his knees and dropped the heavy shield. He toppled forward, facedown, one throwing ax protruding from the back of his head, and another from his thick, scaly back—deadly accurate.

“All right?” Knox barked. With quick, practiced jerks, he withdrew his axes from the lifeless body.

Chase was on all fours, gulping in the searing air.

“It's hard to breathe with all this smoke,” said Knox, worried.

“You just killed that guy,” panted Chase,

“Yeah, well, it was either that or you were going to get barbecued.”

Chase glanced up. The trees were burning. “We all are.”

“Get to the pond. It'll be okay.”

“What about you?” Chase asked, a little wary. Knox seemed strange to him all of a sudden, somehow distant and powerful. “Come with me!” he implored. “These guys aren't kidding around!”

“I'll be there soon!” Knox said. “Tinator told us to keep them busy and away from Rothermel!”

Rothermel!
How could Chase have forgotten? They couldn't let the Exorians find Rothermel.

“Where is he?”

Knox nodded toward the pond. “Over there, doing some kind of rain dance or something.”

Chase squinted through the waves of heat. A small cluster of people were grouped at the shore, none tall enough to be Rothermel. Then Chase saw the darker outline of a figure wading out waist-high into the center of the pond. As if on cue, thunder burst over their heads.

Knox gave a huge whoop and sprinted back into the fight. Another clap of thunder brought on a downpour, and a cheer rose up. Rain streamed down, as if someone had tipped a pitcher from the sky. Chase opened his mouth and drank it in, then groped his way to the edge of the pond where he found Mara, Seaborne, Evelyn, and Teddy. Two Melorian guards stood a few feet away, their crossbows raised, water drumming down on the shafts. From this vantage point, Chase could see more of the battle: Fire hissed through the curtain of rain, and great clouds of steam rose as if the surface of the earth had cracked open to release some kind of internal pressure. Above, it seemed like the trees were lifting the tips of their burning branches up to meet the rain.

Chase looked over his shoulder at Rothermel. The Keeper was standing at the center of the pond, his back toward them, large ripples spreading out in concentric waves around him. A sheet of water fell from the back of his helmet. His hands were splayed above the surface. A small scream from Evelyn whipped Chase's head back around. Three Exorians were running toward them, bereft of their massive shields, their spears no longer tipped with flame, but still deadly. The Melorian guards met them with a fierce counterattack. Calla and Mara raised their bows.

“You must go now, children. Follow Seaborne,” Mara commanded.

“What about Knox?” yelled Chase.

“Tinator will bring him to you.”

Chase shook his head. “I'm not leaving without Knox.”

“Do as you're told,” Calla hissed.

He decided that now was not the time to argue.

Evelyn, Chase, and Teddy jogged behind Seaborne as he skirted the far edge of the pond and headed into the charred forest; up, away from the fighting. Seaborne moved quickly, clearing a path through the dense underbrush with his blade, as though he knew exactly where they were headed. Within minutes the fugitives reached an open plateau and began to run in earnest. Before them lay a rolling plain of grassy hills, shining gray in the moonlight. Seaborne lifted Teddy onto his back and shouted to Evelyn and Chase.

“We're in the open now. Stay together!” He picked up the pace. They tunneled noiselessly through the knee-high grass. The noise of the battle receded, until it could no longer be heard. Finally Seaborne halted, breathing hard under Teddy's extra weight.

“We … can … rest … for … a … minute … now.” He motioned for them to drop. They fell to the ground gratefully. Chase drew in deep lungfuls of air.

“Where are we going?” gasped Evelyn.

“We'll take the long way to the Wold—the main road is too risky. Dankar must be tracking us. I don't know about you, but I'd rather not run into another pack of those uglies.”

“But Frankie might be with them!” she argued. “We have to find out.”

“If Frankie is with them, Rothermel will find her.” Seaborne was thoughtful for a moment. “I don't think they knew Rothermel was with us, or they wouldn't have attacked us with so few. We can be grateful for that.”

“That was just a
few?
There must have been thirty of them, at least!” cried Chase.

Seaborne grinned a tight little smile. “You'd need a great many more to take down a Keeper.”

“Seaborne,” Evelyn asked, “how did Rothermel get it to rain?”

“He asked his sister, Rysta, that's how,” replied Seaborne, proudly.

“How did he do that?”

“The Keepers don't communicate directly very often, but when they do—it's something, don't you think?” He smiled again. “I don't know much about it, but it can happen. They do speak—well, I think it's more like their stones speak to each other.”

Evelyn was concentrating hard on her sneakers, her brow furrowed. “If they—the stones—can talk to each other,” she said slowly, “how come they can't talk to the Keeper of the Fifth Stone, or, even … Dankar?”

“Why would they want to talk to him?” Chase interrupted.

Evelyn's dark eyes flashed. “Because then we could find out about Frankie!”

Seaborne considered her for a moment. “I'm afraid it doesn't work that way. The stones don't actually talk like you and I do; it's closer to—well, it's more like a signal. Besides, I don't think Dankar can be summoned or called in the same way, and even if he could, it wouldn't be to our benefit, or your sister's. The devil only has it one way: his own. And as for the Fifth Stone, I believe it's well beyond any entreaties from the likes of us.”