Forts: Liars and Thieves Read online

  Turning in the direction of the children, salty sweat pouring down his shiny face, Roustaf muttered with just a smidge of sarcasm “Well, we’re here. That wasn’t so bad, now, was it?”

  Not a single one of the group answered, instead choosing to let the frowns on their weary faces do the talking for them.

  “Hey kid,” Roustaf added, pointing in Donald’s direction, “Do me a solid and knock three times, pause, then knock again. I’d do it myself, but my entire fist is barely the size of your fingernail, so they’re a bit more likely to hear you.”

  Donald sighed and, slumping his shoulders while pressing past Nicky, he moved toward the stone.

  After brushing away some caked dirt from the surface, he turned briefly to the little red man hovering behind him. “What happened to the little locking thingies? You know, like you guys had at the other place?”

  “Hey, gimme a break slick. You do understand that this place was built in kind of a rush, right? Excuse me if we’re not completely up to code quite yet.”

  Donald responded by shaking his head annoyingly, then doing as instructed — three knocks, a pause, and then another. Ten or so seconds afterward the tunnel began to shake, thick clumps of wet dirt and hazy dust falling onto the children’s heads. Staci let out a high-pitched yelp as a rather large chunk smashed into her scalp, exploding to pieces. Lurching to the side, the massive, unwieldy rock rolled into the wall to the right, eventually disappearing completely and at last exposing the previously hidden city of New Tipoloo. It took a mere moment for both Tommy and Donald to recognize it, but the recognition resulted in a pair of soft smiles.

  Much of the original city was destroyed, and its inhabitants gruesomely slaughtered, during a raid by the Ochan army. After they finished their killing, the Ochan soldiers collapsed the ground above into the city, forever burying it and all those who called it home. In a matter of hours they had successfully put an end to what had taken years of painstaking labor to create. Destroying a city and obliterating all hope. It seemed so frighteningly simple a task. Even the very thorough, very dangerous Ochans, however, were not perfect. A nearly endless array of tunnels branched out for miles upon miles in every direction. Finding and destroying them all proved an impossible task even for Ocha’s most ruthless and dedicated. Following the destruction of Prince Valkea’s fortress, the freed slaves located these untouched tunnels, expanded upon them, and built themselves a new home, a new safe haven, a place to begin the fight anew.

  At the foot of the now open doorway, anxious smiles spread across their bizarre faces, stood an enormous crowd of creatures. Every face, every body, was totally unique from the last. This was a wild array of creatures from ninety-nine separate worlds, each giddy with anticipation, each anxious for a brief look at the children of the prophecy.

  For Staci Alexander, the sight was quite simply overwhelming. In direct response to the enormous crowd, her feet absentmindedly began to shuffle backward, her body eventually coming to a stop after smacking into Tommy’s chest. Quickly turning to face him, she could only shake her head back and forth, indicating without doubt that she now wanted to return home. This was too much for her, all of this — it was simply too much to take. She never should have agreed to come along. She didn’t belong here. Putting his hands on her shoulders, Tommy smiled, trying his best not to laugh at the slightly comical look of terror etched on her face.

  Attempting to calm her, he whispered softly, “It’ll be okay.”

  While the gesture didn’t douse her fears completely, it did strangely manage to relax her.

  Led by Roustaf, the group hesitantly moved from the tunnel into the dimly lit, slightly less stuffy city. The moment they stepped into the light, a boisterous, joyful cheer rose up from the crowd. So very loud was their excited roar that it shook the walls of the city, creating a subtle tremor beneath the children’s feet. To the citizens of New Tipoloo, these were not simply children; these were the creatures that rescued them from certain death. These were the beings that single handedly destroyed an Ochan castle and murdered the son of the tyrant king. These were the creatures that saved their lives. These were their saviors. To the war torn masses, the children were seen as great and powerful beings that would eventually bring an end to the unending suffering that had become the whole of their existence.

  No, these were not children. These were gods.

  Tommy’s grip on Staci’s shoulders tightened significantly, the deafening sounds of the citizens of New Tipoloo’s jubilant, hopeful shouts ringing in his ears and rattling the brain inside his skull. Having been smacked in the face so abruptly by the sight in front of him, it suddenly seemed so clear; Staci was right in wanting to leave. This was too much.

  This was too much and this was going to end badly.

  *

  *

  CHAPTER 14

  PROBLEMATIC REUNION

  *

  His heart steadily pounding, Nicky Jarvis lifted himself onto the tips of his toes while scanning the massive crowd for a single familiar face. He found none. A few feet in front him, Roustaf hovered in mid-air, his barely six inch long body the only thing standing between the children and a mass of excited creatures extending throughout the city.

  “Settle down, ya bums!” Roustaf’s gravelly voice bellowed, his arms waiving back and forth wildly. “Settle down and make some room unless you’re looking to get your jaws boxed!”

  While Roustaf’s voice proved surprisingly deep for one of such diminutive stature, it was easily drowned out by the substantial horde of feverish Tipoloo citizens. The great living wall of multi-colored flesh, fur and slime began slowly moving in the direction of the children. Noticing that things were very quickly getting out of hand, Tommy made his way to the front of the group. Pushing past Roustaf and his brother, he shoved the remaining children back through the doorway they originally used to enter the city. Ever since Roustaf left New Tipoloo on his mission to retrieve the children and bring them back to Fillagrou, the anticipation of his return had been building. With the tiny mustached man having been gone for some time, anxiousness was given ample time to stew. Slowly brought to a boil, it had transformed into pure, unadulterated, undeniable exhilaration. Having been brought back to life by the warm glow from Staci’s fingertips, many among the crowd very literally owed their existence to these strange creatures that bled the color of the forest. Pressing forward, their arms raised in happiness, their voices echoing throughout the city walls, they wanted simply to be near their saviors, to touch them and give thanks for everything they had already done and the things yet to be accomplished. Indeed this was a mob, but it was a mob with the absolute best of intentions. Pressing past Roustaf, the mass of creatures advanced further toward the children, forcing them to retreat deeper into the dark tunnel.

  Peeking out from behind his brother’s back, his hands shaking, unsure of what was going on, Nicky spotted the top of a very familiar looking bluish-green head cutting through the mass of rainbow colored alien flesh. Covered in thick scales, with a subtle striped pattern running along the surface, the bald head bobbed up and down swiftly through the screaming masses, moving with expert precision. Standing directly behind Nicky, sandwiched between the youngest Jarvis boy and the hulking form of Donald Rondage, Staci noticed the head as well and recognized it immediately as belonging to none other than Fellow Undergotten.

  “Come on! Move it! Settle down, will you! Settle down!” Determined to move forward, Fellow shoved aside a group of ecstatic teenage Ricardians and ducked under the thick, fur covered arm of a seven foot tall Garzabull.

  Through the slim openings in the crowd, he could just barely make out the shape of the four children huddled tightly together in the entranceway. He was moving much too slowly, though. Navigating the sea of exhilarated citizens was akin to attempting to ride choppy waters in a raft with a hole in the bottom; it was eating up too much time. The crowd would reach the children long before he did, and in their excited state, anything could happen.
The children might be hurt, or worse. Clumsily twisting his body between flailing arms, Fellow turned to look behind him. No more than ten feet away, Nestor Rockshell and a select group of his best soldiers were struggling with the horde as well.

  “We’re not going to make it in time!” Fellow screamed loud enough for Nestor to hear over the wails of the crowd. “We need to get a handle on this now!”

  The words were like music to the Tycarian soldier’s ears.

  Annoyance had slowly been building inside Nestor. Carefully pushing his oversized body, covered in its even more oversized shell, through the mass of Tipoloo citizens was, for him, an exercise in the limits of his patience — an exercise he’d grown weary of. This needed to stop, and it needed to stop now. Turning his head, he nodded to the Tycarian soldier behind him, who turned and nodded to the one behind him, and so on. One by one, the massive turtle men removed the bladed weapons from the sheaths attached to their sides and lifted them into the air angrily.

  Breathing in deeply, weapon drawn and muscles tightened, Nestor screamed louder than he’d screamed in quite some time, “Calm down and back away from the children! Now!”

  As quickly as the excitement began, it ended.

  Over the last six months, the citizens of New Tipoloo had come to know the voice of Nestor Rockshell well. In many ways, he and the King of the Tycarian people, Walcott Shellamennes, along with Pleebo, Zanell and, to a lesser extent, Fellow Undergotten, had become the leaders of the new revolution. When Nestor spoke, it was time to listen, and listen they would. A moment before Nestor’s annoyed yelp, the city was so loud one could scarcely hear the sound of their own voice. Now a single pin drop could be easily recognized. Having settled down, the crowd parted to the sides of the street, opening a tight yet passable path for Fellow, Nestor, and the soldiers.

  Still crouched behind his older brother, peeking through a space between Tommy’s arm and torso, Nicky watched the mass of bodies open up, at last bringing Fellow into view. Upon seeing his friend for the first time in six months, Nicky smiled brighter than he had smiled in years. Ducking under his brother’s arm, he charged full speed from the tunnel and leapt happily into the fish man’s outstretched arms. Fellow hugged the little boy tightly, pulling Nicky’s head against the fabric of his dusty shirt. An uncommon warmth flushed Fellow’s naturally chilly cheeks, transforming them into a soft baby blue.

  Smiling brightly, he said with a chuckle in his voice, “Whoa, whoa, whoa. It’s good to see you too, kiddo …it’s good to see you too.”

  Not far behind Nicky came an equally blissful Staci Alexander, her body colliding into both of them full force, her arms not only wrapping around Fellow but the youngest Jarvis boy as well. During their initial trip to Fillagrou, more than anyone else it had been Fellow Undergotten who helped the both of them. Fellow Undergotten made it his personal mission to keep them alive, to ensure their safety and maintain their sanity. Of all the creatures they met, it was Fellow Undergotten they had missed the most. His cheeks having now turned white, Fellow grinned a mile wide while trying his best to keep from crying. The war had taken everything from him, leaving Nicky and Staci the closest things he had to family. To see them alive and well, with such happiness in their voices, was conjuring up emotions he hadn’t felt in years — indescribable emotions— emotions he didn’t want to let go of.

  “It’s good to see you guys too,” he muttered again through thin, shaky lips, while patting Staci gently on the back of her head.

  From behind Fellow, the massive-bodied Nestor Rockshell moved toward Tommy and Donald, who were still standing in the tunnel leading to the city. Sliding his broad sword into the sheath strapped to his massive shell, the six foot tall turtle man came to a stop directly in front of the boys.

  Nodding his head, he smiled slightly with a stone-seriousness befitting a warrior. “Let me be the first to formally welcome you to New Tipoloo, lads. I must apologize for the exuberance of our citizens; they have been awaiting your arrival with much anticipation.”

  Still a bit frightened, though trying his best to disguise it, Donald moved in front of Tommy. “N-no worries, right? It’s good to be back. I like what you’ve done with the place …lots of …dirt.”

  Nestor grinned slyly at the boy’s joke, but the slight smile on his face evaporated just as quickly, and his tone turned deadly serious. “I apologize that I must now cut our reunion a bit short. Time is not on our side, lads, and we must move briskly.”

  “Nestor, don’t go scaring them just yet.” The soft, familiar feminine voice came from behind the turtle man, though his massive form obscured its speaker.

  In one smooth movement, the lanky, waif thin form of Zanell stepped into view of both Tommy and Donald. Brushing the impossibly thin, astoundingly white hair from her face, she flashed a pleased grin in Tommy’s direction. Her sunken, oversized eyes, with their watermelon-sized red pupils, never left his face as she moved to within a foot of him.

  Reaching forward, she brushed the back of her bony hand against his cheek. “It’s good to see you again, Tommy Jarvis.” Turning her attention to Donald, she did the same, causing the young boy’s pudgy cheeks turn a deep red in direct response to her touch. “And you as well, Donald.”

  This was a very different Zanell than the children met when they arrived in Fillagrou for the first time. In their absence, Zanell had taken the mantle of spiritual elder with amazing ease. Inheriting her grandfather’s position upon his death, and being given the sight beyond sight, had changed her dramatically. For Zanell, the universe was a very different place than it had been only six months ago. In the lives of every creature there are unknowns — mysteries and certain things about the past, the present and the future — that one is simply not meant to know; this, however, was no longer the case for Zanell. To her, the universe had become an open book, the lives of every single living thing since its creation barely more than a few sentences. From her perspective, everything had already happened; the stories had reached their conclusions a million times and would do so a million more. There was an undeniable confidence in her movements, the kind of confidence that could only result from one knowing all there was to know.

  Turning her attention back to Tommy, she sighed deeply, images of what was about to happen to the young boy flashing across the vast, jumbled landscape that had become her mind. “While Nestor’s approach was gruff to say the least, he is not incorrect when he says that time is not on our side. If we are to save the universe, we will need your help.”

  Tommy noticed an ever so brief yet painfully obvious expression of sadness creeping its way into the deep wrinkles on her face. Zanell noticed his awareness and quickly looked away. The gesture sent a chill down Tommy’s spine.

  Zanell glanced now in the direction of Fellow, Nicky, Staci and Nestor, then across the sea of wide-eyed New Tipoloo citizens. From this moment on, everything would change. The trials lying ahead would test the limits of every living being currently huddled around her. While some would emerge physically unscathed, the vast majority would be forever emotionally scarred. By the time the dust of war cleared, most would be dead.

  Sighing deeply, she feigned a smile, then said to the children, “Come, there is someone I need you to meet …after all, he’s the reason you’re here, and he’s been anxiously awaiting your arrival.”

  *

  *

  CHAPTER 15

  TRAITOR TO THE CAUSE

  *

  Pleasantries having been exchanged, Zanell led the group through the crowded New Tipoloo streets, excited onlookers watching with wide-eyed interest as they passed by. Walking directly behind Zanell, Tommy took note of the fact that this Tipoloo was very different from the original city. There were similarities of course — the construction, for instance. Both had a very hand-made feeling, seeming to not only have been dug by the strength of fingers and whatever tools might have been available, but dug quickly. This new incarnation, however, was stocked with food, weapons and other su
ch amenities that were no doubt scavenged from the remains of Prince Valkea’s fortress. For the most part, the citizens seemed fairly well fed and surprisingly hopeful, and this was the most remarkable difference of all. The original Tipoloo had been little more than a death camp, a dreary pit stop between life and a drawn out, excruciating death. New Tipoloo was different. This city didn’t seem to be simply a place to survive as much as it was a place to live. The idea that the smiles on the faces of its inhabitants might be directly related to him frightened Tommy. It seemed unreal, maybe even a bit wrong. To his left he saw a large group of staunchly stoic creatures with dull orange flesh, square heads and wide facial features, bent at the knees, silently bowing in his direction. Unable to look them squarely in the eyes, Tommy turned his head; he didn’t deserve this sort of reaction. No one did.

  Bringing up the rear of the group, strolling with his chest puffed out and a smile a mile wide stretched across his face, Donald Rondage was having a very different reaction to the situation. Every bow, handshake or strange alien gesture of thanks directed toward him was met with a smug, toothy grin. Donald had missed this; he was somebody again, suddenly he mattered. When an odd looking, rail-thin creature with a floppy nose at least two feet in length, yet very human in overall shape, dropped to the ground in front of him and kissed the dirt at his feet, the boy could barely contain his smile. This is where he was meant to be; this is who he was meant to be. A sense of pride unlike anything he had ever felt swelled inside him, blowing his head up like a balloon and filling it with wonderfully hot air. Standing behind Donald, Nestor rolled his eyes before gently nudging the boy and his rapidly expanding ego forward with his massive flat paw.