Forts: Endings and Beginnings Read online

  The Ochan soldiers scattered throughout the courtyard gasped.

  With a single fluid movement, the massive Tommy-creature flung one of arms behind it and let loose a bolt of light that decimated much of the castle’s outer wall. The sections that weren’t instantly disintegrated toppled over like dominoes, swallowing the soldiers stationed on top in clouds of smoky debris. The destruction of the outer wall created a much larger pathway for the invading army to advance. Like the rolling waves, the Aquari forces moved through the smoke and falling rock before spreading further into the courtyard and toward the heart of the castle. Controlled by the forty or so Ochans on its back, a second snarling digging creature bounded across the courtyard as fast as its gargantuan body could move. With every step its feet crushed slave huts, shattered buildings, and trampled those unlucky few not quick enough to move from its path.

  Still hanging from Tommy’s back, Arthur took note of the colossal beast bounding in their direction and pulled at the boy’s blond hair. “Incoming!”

  When Tommy swung his fist the sparking fist of light swung as well. Leaving behind it a crackling trail of energy, the edged knuckles of the glowing man-thing slammed violently into the neck of the digging beast. The creature recoiled in pain and roared angrily, baring its teeth as automobile-sized puddles of slobber sprayed from between its lips. Whipping its head forward, the beast snapped at the bizarre glowing man standing in its way. Tommy swung his giant arm again. Unlike the first strike, this one collided with the creature’s head, instantly knocking it unconscious. The body of the digging creature flopped sideways in a heap and crashed into a nearby section of the castle.

  Arthur Crumbee glanced over his shoulder and noticed an army of alien flesh folding into the courtyard. An equally dense army of Ochan defenders rushed to meet them. For the first time in his experiences with the Ochan army, Arthur could clearly see the frustration on their faces. Their forces were scattered. They were confused. They were defending rather than attacking. They were no longer the aggressors.

  The tide had turned.

  Almost instantly, arrows, stones, and even cannon fire from various sections of the castle began to bombard Tommy Jarvis and his creature of light. The boy steadied himself. He needed to respond, and he needed to respond quickly. When Tommy crouched, his outer shell of light did exactly the same. When he dug his heels into the dirt, so did it.

  “Hold on.”

  Still absorbed in the collision of the armies below, Arthur Crumbee heard the words escaping the boy’s mouth but failed to put them together. “What are you tal—”

  Before he could finish his sentence, he was weightless and airborne. Tommy Jarvis leapt into the air, and his light creature followed. After soaring nearly two hundred yards further into the heart of the castle—hammered by weapons fire the entire way—the light creature’s body slammed into one of the many towers scattered throughout the castle-city and knocked it aside with remarkable ease. Unfortunately for the Ochans, the boy did not stop there. Hands and feet of sparking energy began the task of pulverizing every nearby structure, mauling the once sturdy brick like a feral animal and tearing it to pieces. In the distance Tommy spotted a regiment of Ochan reserves making their way through the city and heading in the direction of the battle on the opposite end of the castle. Reaching down, he wrapped his light fingers around a building and plucked it from the ground. The unfortunate Ochan soldiers inside when the two-story building took unexpectedly to the air either rolled from the doors or were tossed through open windows and returned to the rubble below. With a single swing of his mighty arm, Tommy tossed the building in the direction of the advancing regiment. Needless to say, the flying building succeeded miraculously in halting their advance.

  The boy was already getting tired, though. While what he was doing was working, doing it required a lot and was taking its toll. Try as he might to steady his breath, the simple act of inhaling had become increasingly difficult, bordering on impossible. Closing his eyes once again, Tommy attempted to steady his pulse as weapon fire continued to batter his super-sized light skeleton. Arthur Crumbee noticed the droop of the boy’s head and the growing shakiness in his limbs. He’d seen it once before already. If Tommy had used his second wind to create the creature of light in which they both resided, that wind was nearly spent; this much was painfully obvious.

  “Are you okay, child?” The little scientist yelled over the wild sounds of battle below.

  Tommy grimaced and willed his shaking arms to steady. There was more work to be done. He couldn’t afford to be tired, not with so much at stake. From the expressionless head of the light creature a mouth materialized once again. Its voice was both monotone and assured. Its already lighted eyes popped like fireworks. When it spoke, it spoke for the boy.

  “I’m fine.”

  Again Tommy grunted, and again the creature leapt into the air. Its body slammed into another section of the castle over a hundred yards in the opposite direction. Soon afterward its feet and fists went to work. Once the flurry had passed, surrounded by a cloud of smoke and debris, Tommy Jarvis took yet another moment to catch his breath. His arms felt as if they weighed a thousand pounds, and yet strangely, his head felt weightless. His vision was blurring and his breathing becoming more awkward than ever.

  Arthur’s arms were strained as well. He wasn’t built for this much gripping and climbing. Having to hold his weight for such an extended period of time left his biceps burning and his back muscles aching for relief.

  Despite the pain, he hoisted himself over Tommy’s shoulder once again. “You have to rest, Thomas.”

  Tommy responded by shaking his head. He couldn’t stop. There was too much to do.

  “Don’t shake your head at me!” Arthur responded with a scream. “Now you’re just acting foolish! You can barely move! You’ve done what you came to do! Rest and recharge!”

  Again Tommy shook his head. The world around him was going soft and white, blurring into amorphous shapes he was finding difficult to make sense of. His eyelids felt like lead.

  Arthur wrapped his pudgy hands around the boy’s head and turned it in the direction of the invading Aquari army in the distance. “You’ve created an opening. You’ve got them on the run, child! I understand that you want to help, but if you don’t rest for a moment, you’re playing directly into their hands.”

  For the first time since he passed through the doorway and hovered into Ocha, Tommy Jarvis noticed the enormity of the Aquari forces. Hundreds of thousands were pouring into the castle and still more continued to sprout from the black pit leading to Fillagrou. It was an astonishing sight to behold. He’d been so focused, so singularly set in his direction and purpose that he failed to appreciate any of what was happening below. He was not alone in this fight. There was help. For a moment he could rest.

  For a moment.

  All at once the giant light man folded inward and began to shrink. Its head popped into its shoulders and its arms retreated into its chest. When the creature’s legs collapsed onto themselves, both Tommy and Arthur began lowering to the ground. It took barely two seconds for the snarling creature of light to transform once again into a single sphere just large enough to contain the same two beings it had carried from the Aquari Ocean to the red forest of Fillagrou and into the heart of the Ochan nation. With just a single ball of light to maintain, Tommy Jarvis briefly relaxed his muscles and regained a hint of control over his ragged breath. Arthur Crumbee slid from his back, dropped to the basin of the sphere and began to shake the blood back into his aching arms.

  “That’s one heck of a magic trick, kiddo.”

  The voice came from behind Tommy. When he turned his neck to look behind him, the still hovering ball of light spun on its axis as well. Standing near the end of the alleyway and cautiously perched atop a pile of dusty rubble was a battered and bruised Pleebo. Having run faster than he had in years and more than his body should have been capable, he was noticeably tired. Still attempting to catch
his breath, the weary Fillagrou lifted a hand made up almost entirely of broken bones and waved.

  Though not entirely aware he was doing it, Tommy Jarvis waved back.

  *

  *

  CHAPTER 49

  BELLY OF THE BEAST

  *

  Nestor Rockshell’s jaw hung lower than it had in quite some years as he watched the enormous man-shaped being of light punch out a monster taller than sections of Kragamel’s castle with a single blow. It was a sight without explanation, a moment no words could ever do justice. Immediately after smashing the long-necked dinosaur in the jaw, the light-man extended his arms behind him and let loose a blast of energy that erased much of the outer castle wall, leaving behind a mountain of billowy smoke. It was in this instant that Nestor’s years of training kicked in. First and foremost, he was a soldier. The scar-faced Tycarian spent the majority of his adult life fighting for his home, his race, and his king. The Ochans were his enemy. For as long as he could remember, they had been his enemy. The light creature’s actions created a massive opening in their defenses. The inner sanctum of the castle was exposed. It was vulnerable. They were vulnerable. This was the opportunity he’d been waiting for since the invasion began; it was the moment he’d been waiting for all his life. Reaching over his shoulder, Nestor slid his broad sword from the sheath attached to the backside of his shell and lifted it into the air. When he screamed, he screamed for all of Tycaria, for every world the Dark Army had ever laid to waste. When he growled, he growled for his king and for his friend.

  “Charge!”

  The reaction of the Aquari army was instantaneous. The regiments previously holding their position and waiting for a break in the line leapt into action. The ground shook when they moved. The trees rattled and the frozen soil cracked like shattered glass. High above the clouds, something far larger than the troubles of those constructed of flesh and bone roared. This was both the beginning and the end. This was judgment day.

  Standing beside the sturdy Tycarian and the huffing fish creature growling between his legs, Chris Jarvis wrapped his arms around his youngest son and pulled the boy close to his chest. He was having trouble coming to terms with everything he’d seen. That creature—the two hundred-foot tall monster constructed entirely of twisting, crackling energy—was his eldest son. Chris watched the boy emerge from the doorway to Fillagrou encased in a sphere of light. He saw him soar overhead and hover into the castle. He watched as his son was nearly taken down by flashes of lightning and the foot of a creature larger than most buildings. He saw it all with his own two eyes, and still he couldn’t bring himself to accept it as real. Of all the wild, unexplainable things the man had witnessed since stepping into the stream under the tree fort built by his children, this was the most implausible. It really made no sense, none of it, not a single, solitary moment.

  A second four-legged fish creature came to a sliding stop to Chris’s left. Seated on top of the slimy beast with a four-foot long broad sword held firmly in his dark-green paw was the Tycarian soldier, Reginald Stoneback. From the back of his own snarling fish creature, Nestor Rockshell turned immediately to face his closest aid and lifelong friend. From a sheath attached to a leathery strap pulled tightly across his chest, he retrieved an elaborately decorated dagger. Staring downward, the soulful Tycarian juggled it in his paw for a moment, half testing its weight and half running through the flood of memories accompanying the weapon.

  With a heavy breath and a subtle grin, he tossed it over the head of Chris Jarvis and his son into the waiting arms of Reginald. “It was a gift from the king himself, after the battle at the castle of the boy prince.”

  Reginald opened his paw and instantly took note of the royal seal carved into the handle of the ancient weapon. Unsure of what to make of the gesture, he flashed an expression of noticeable confusion toward his longtime compatriot.

  “Keep them safe, my friend.” Nestor stated plainly, subtly nodding in the direction of Chris and his son. “That is an order.”

  Upon hearing this, Nicky wiggled free of his father’s grip, ran to Nestor’s side and wrapped his arms around the muscular, dangling leg of the turtle man.

  “Wait a minute! Where are you going?” The boy’s voice was ragged and worried, his chilly hands tugging at the Tycarian’s calf impatiently.

  Nestor looked toward the castle once again and watched as the glowing man-thing in the distance began to shrink and disappear behind the smoldering remains of some buildings deeper within the castle walls.

  Turning back to the wide-eyed child pulling at his leg, he stated in a very matter-of-fact tone: “Your brother may need my help.”

  Nicky glanced in the direction of the castle as well, watching as the impressive Aquari forces continued to flood over the shattered remains of the outer wall where equally imposing Ochan defenses met them head on. His lower lip quivered. His brother was in there somewhere, in the middle of the madness. While he understood that someone did indeed have to help Tommy, he didn’t want Nestor to go. He couldn’t let him go alone.

  “I’m going with you!” Nicky chirped firmly, attempting to climb the Tycarian’s leg and scoot in behind him.

  Nestor placed his palm on the boy’s shoulder and shoved him back down. “No. You are safer here, my young friend.”

  Nicky slapped his hand away. “I can help! You know what I can do! Besides, he’s my brother and I can come if I want to!”

  Nestor slid his hands into Nicky’s armpits and lifted the furious child into the air so they were face to face. “You are an impressive young man, Nicholas: strong and capable far beyond your years. You have proven this much time and time again. I assure you, there is no part of me that doubts your capabilities. Strength is only a fraction of the equation, however. A good soldier is one who knows when to fight and when to lay in wait.”

  Nicky shook his head, attempting to wiggle free of Nestor’s iron grip. The Tycarian squeezed him tighter. He wasn’t going anywhere.

  “Have I ever led you astray, lad?”

  Nicky sighed and reluctantly stopped struggling. His head dipped until his chin was resting on his chest.

  “Have I ever lied to you?”

  Again the boy shook his head, still unable to look Nestor in the face.

  “I ask then, that you trust me now as you have before. Stay here. Remain at the side of Reginald and stay safe. He is a trusted companion and a capable warrior. I could leave you in no better hands.”

  Nicky choked, fighting back the urge to cry. Nestor hadn’t lied to him, not once, not ever. That was the truth. The turtle man saved him from a charging Megalot in the Red Forest and held him in his arms when Captain Fluuffytail’s ship sank below the dark waters of Aquari. He was there when Nicky needed him, always, without question or hesitation. Nestor was his friend. Nestor deserved his trust. Though his expression remained dejected, Nicky looked into the hard green eyes of his Tycarian pal and nodded in compliance.

  Nestor grinned slightly. “You continue to impress, lad.” Leaning to his right, Nestor lowered the boy to the ground and patted his shoulder appreciatively before turning his attention to Reginald Stoneback.

  “Watch them. Take care of them. If things go awry, I would suggest the Villadhor Mountains as a possible safe haven. It would mean a rugged existence, but an existence nonetheless.”

  “You have my word.” Reginald responded with a respectful nod.

  After readjusting himself atop the heaving back of the four-legged fish creature between his legs, Nestor turned toward the castle and the battle ahead. A moment before kicking his heels into the side of the anxious beast he heard the voice of Chris Jarvis slide in from behind. It stopped him in his tracks.

  “Wait! I’m going with you!” The dark-haired man moved from behind his youngest son and wrapped his hand around Nestor’s dangling ankle. “I don’t know what the hell’s going on here, but that’s my son in there. At least, I think it is.” Chris was struggling to find the appropriate words and
unsure if his decision was truly the one he wanted to make.

  Nestor reached down and pushed his hand away. “I promise to locate your son and return him to you, Christopher Jarvis. Your place is with young Nicholas now.”

  Chris’s hand moved from Nestor’s ankle to his thigh, his voice both defiant and pleading, the sound of a man unsure of what he was about to do yet fully aware of the necessity of the act. “Please. I have to go with you. I-I just…I need to go. He’s my son. I have to go. I can’t just leave him alone in there.”

  Nestor could clearly see the pain in the man’s expression. He wore it in the wrinkles on his face and the bags underneath his eyes. It was determination mixed with shame, sprinkled with love and frustration. It was the look of a man out of options.

  It was the look of a father.

  After a rather long pause and a questioning sigh, from a sheath strapped to his chest the stone-faced Tycarian retrieved yet another dagger. Without a word, he tossed it into the air, caught the blade between two of his flat fingers, and extended the handle in Chris’ direction.

  “I assume you have experience with one of these?”

  Chris grabbed hold of the weapon and nodded.

  It was a lie.

  With the surprisingly heavy dagger firmly in his grasp, Chris Jarvis dropped to one knee in front of his youngest son. The expression on Nicky’s face was one of utter confusion. Chris wrapped his arms around the boy and pulled him close. Despite the cold, he felt warm, as if Ocha hadn’t touched him, as if he were above it all. Nicky dug his face into the nape of his father’s neck and hugged back.

  Chris’ voice was uneven, shaky with a fair amount of uncertainty. “I love you, Nicky. I love you so much.”

  Nicky squeezed him tighter.

  “I’m so sorry. I was so stupid. I was so stupid, and I made stupid mistakes.” Chris pulled himself away from his son and pushed the boy backward in order to look him directly in the eyes. “I’m going to make up for it, all of it. One way or another, I’m going to make this better.”