The Silver Sphere (14 page)

Zach struggled back up to the surface and spat out a mouthful
of water, grateful the river was calm as he swam to land. He still held to the heavy
sword Throg had given him, and considered dropping it since the blade weighed him
down, but then he pictured a giant man-eating monster and decided otherwise. Besides,
he didn't know what was waiting for him on shore.

Every stroke was more difficult than the last. Water sluiced
into his mouth, making him cough. Finally, he squished into the muddy bottom beneath
his shoes. He slipped and sank with each step. Out of breath and exhausted, he made
it ashore.

He turned in the mud and spotted the capsized boat floating away.
He scanned the murky water and found Throg paddling across the river. Zach stood
and hurried over to where his friend would beach. He waded out and offered a hand
to Throg.

The wishpoosh thrashed close behind, snapping its huge fangs
and lifting claws the size of hunting knives as it surfaced just yards from the
shore.

"Look out!" Zach backed away, watching as Throg fought
the enormous creature, which looked like a giant beaver.

The man buried his pike into the monster's wet fur.

A vehement growl pealed to the side of Zach. Swimming toward
him was another wishpoosh, its fangs forming a morbid sneer. Zach glanced at Throg,
who had managed to pull himself back ashore.

"Take off for the woods," yelled his friend. "The
wishpoosh won't follow for long."

Zach didn't hesitate to turn and run. Listening to Throg's advice
was his best bet, though he hated to leave his companion even as the wishpoosh flared
out of the channel.

Zach raced through the forest for several minutes before he paused.
The woodland behind him was still. He panted a few moments and waited, hoping Throg's
friendly figure would emerge from the thicket. Guilt consumed him; he had left Throg
behind to battle at least two of those wishpoosh, if not more.

He decided to double back to the river. Perhaps Throg needed
his help.

Zach jogged and passed a grand tree with numerous fruits hanging
from its limbs. Apples, oranges, plums, and pears protruded from its many branches.
Other strange trees marked the landscape.

For a while, he forged onward, though he hadn't thought he'd
run so far. Soon he came upon a clearing, and as he drew closer, sounds emanated
from behind a thick oak tree south of him. He poked his head around the trunk to
identify the noise.

A shiver raced down his spine at the sight before him: a fence
made out of bones.

Inside sat a small log cabin—a plain dwelling, except it rested
on a pair of massive chicken legs. The building wobbled. The front resembled the
face of a chicken, with two windows serving as its eyes, and a single door shaped
like a beak. The cabin spun again, and repeated the process over and over. The chicken-house
seemed to be looking for something.

Zach watched for a few moments, and decided to move away from
the bizarre sight. As if wishpoosh weren't enough, he didn't want to get attacked
by a ferocious bird-like house, too.

He backtracked and stopped at the large fruit tree he'd passed
earlier. A heavy wind roared, whipping leaves and dust through the air. A terrible
screeching grew around him. Timber creaked and groaned.

He spotted a whirling movement in the sky, and scanned overhead.
Several figures circled above the trees, emitting horrible shrieks.

They had no legs and their tattered gray robes flowed from their
bodies. Their gruesome faces contorted around their crooked chops and dark eye sockets.
Boils, black as rot, circled their eyes and mouths. The sound of flies buzzing surged
in Zach's ears.

The beautiful fruit tree began to putrefy. Fruit dropped around
him and crashed with a ghastly odor. Oranges broke open on impact. Green gunk burst
from them, and several black spiders scurried out. The lush grass below him crinkled
and turned yellow. Zach stumbled away from the tree.

"You are doomed. You will suffer," the forms above
screeched.

Without a second glance, Zach bolted from the rotting fruit tree.
He shoved bushes aside as he ran. Branches slapped him, but he did not stop. The
howling monsters and sound of creaking trees followed him.

A pair of floating hands blocked his path, forcing him to skid
to a halt. One of the hands pulled a saber from the mist. It brandished the blade,
ready to strike Zach down.

"You dare confront us?" a voice wailed from the direction
of the bobbing hands.

He held up the sword given to him by Throg, hoping he could use
it. The opposing blade descended upon him. Instinctively, he blocked the hand's
first strike and then started a counterattack, forcing the hand back.

Throg had been right: sword fighting came naturally to him, as
if he were fully trained. Rather than running forward, he advanced with one foot
behind the other. His legs and body flowed beneath him. He blocked a second blow
and lunged for another strike.

The haunting figures flew closer and whirled around the battle.
When one dove at him, Zach swung the blade, ducked, and struck the trailing end
of its cloak. The creature didn't seem to notice.

"You dare. You dare. You dare," the creatures chanted
and moaned.

Zach pushed forward in a blazing attack and drove the hands backward.
He feinted right and jabbed left. The hands tried to block his offense and failed.
A screech came from where he stabbed the empty hand, and crimson liquid drooled
from the cut.

"Take that," he cried. "Now back off! I'm only
passing through."

The hands vanished along with their blade. Above, the treacherous
creatures continued their shrieks. Zach turned to them and readied his sword.

"She is coming. All is lost. You are doomed," they
crowed. Then, they dove as one.

Too many for him to fight alone, Zach ran again. Not ten yards
later, he stopped dead in his tracks. Hovering in front of him was a mortar with
a large pestle jutting out. Something crunched behind him. He spun, his weapon raised
high.

A monstrous hag stared at him. She smirked, flashing teeth made
of a bright metal, blood dripping from them. Her face was gnarled and wrinkled,
and a gigantic wart close to bursting pulsed on the side of her nose. Hair like
black wire crept from under the rotting rags on her head.

The repulsive witch strode forward. Her tall and stick-thin figure
glided. From beneath a mound of cloaks, her hunched back protruded. She glared at
him, her leathery skin oozing yellow pus, her matted hair whipping in the gust,
her sharp snout twisting as she drew closer.

She fixed her malevolent gaze on him and pointed her lengthy,
clawed fingers forward. "You have returned. Were you sent to me, or have you
come of your own accord?"

Returned?
Zach did not answer, sensing his response would
be linked to his safety.

"Answer me!" she roared.

"I have come of my own accord."

"I see," she grumbled, her grotesque, crooked teeth
dribbling gore. She strode forward, her bones creaking with each step. The howling
monsters whirled by her.

"You come to death willingly." She studied him for
a few seconds. "Your fate lies on the other side of the Shattered Woods...
if you live." The witch then droned in an unrecognizable language.

A noose dropped around his neck and snapped him off the ground.
The cackling figures circled his dangling body. He swiped at the invisible snare
to no avail.

When he started to black out, the noose loosened its grip, and
he crashed down. As he caught his breath, he looked at the soil. The dead grass
was now a vibrant green with several colorful flowers spread out. Beautiful music
had supplanted the screeching chorus of the whirling creatures. He gazed into the
direction of the witch.

She was clawing at the blue eyes twirling around her. The familiar
voices spoke to him again. Their presence lit the world—bark changed color, becoming
spectacular hues of gold, orange, and green.
The Fugues.

"Leave now," said the comforting voices. "She
will not follow. Throg is safe and searching for you east of here. She has cast
the nightmare charm on you. You must go to Baku, the dream-eater, to be healed.
Quickly now."

He walked off in a daze, leaving the screaming hag behind.

"Biskara is coming," the witch wailed. "He will
eat you whole, young Kin. He will tear the flesh from your bones."

Sweet, reassuring music replaced the angry cries. Zach hummed
along as a wonderful foggy tingling in his head made everything seem so far away.
He paused to smell a bushel of strange sunset-colored flowers.

"Keep going. You must go to the dream-eater."

He lumbered forward, his sword out in front of him for some time,
the blade weightless. Trees sang and moved about him in the lovely wind. Zach was
so at peace, he wondered why he was walking at all when he could just lie down and
sleep. Yet he kept trudging forth. Nothing hurt. No one bothered him. It was pure
bliss, until a crashing in the underbrush snapped him out of his tranquil state.

"Zach, thank the druids I found you," Throg shouted
as he ran over. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, I am fine. I encountered a witch." He touched
his head, a little dazed. The sword hung heavy again.

"Witch? Here in these parts? They prefer the Cark Woods."

"The Fugues appeared and rescued me." Sadness crept
over Zach as the dream evaporated. He realized he had been saved, again, by someone
else. Part of him wished he'd been able to fend off the hag himself.

"It's a good thing they showed up. Most witches are powerful
here."

"The Fugues told me I had a nightmare charm put on me by
the witch and that I needed to find Baku."

"The nightmare charm? She must have slapped it on you when
the Fugues appeared and realized you would escape. I'll summon the dream-eater next
time you sleep. We need to travel farther east now. I don't know if the Nightlanders
are still around."

Zach's brow furrowed. "She also said my fate lies beyond
the Shattered Woods."

Throg froze for a minute, seeming to ponder this comment. "The
Shattered Woods is an ancient name for the Cark. Most witches on Azimuth are evil,
but if you answer their questions correctly, they're forced to be honest. Then they'll
try to kill you."

"Does that mean we have to go through the Cark?" Dread
knotted Zach's stomach. The way Throg had described it, the Cark was not somewhere
he wanted to be.

"Aye, perhaps pass Tomb Valley to get to the Canopus Hills."

"How did you escape from the wishpoosh?"

"Dang wishpoosh. They usually live closer to the Invunche
Lake. They surprised me. Just as some witches moved from the Cark, the wishpoosh
probably migrated upriver. The evil creatures of Azimuth tend to act strange when
Biskara comes into power. I fled the wishpoosh the same way you did. I ran off in
a different direction than you to lead them away. They do not stray far from the
water."

"The witch screamed that Biskara would tear the flesh off
my Kin body and that I had 'returned.'" A tremor wracked him. This was nothing
like outsmarting bullies at school. This was
real
. The swordfight, the monsters,
even his physical changes all pointed to the same thing—if Zach died here, he
died
.

"She said that? How odd."

A thought occurred to him. "Hey, Throg, do you think Biskara
might have contacted the witch for an alliance?"

"Could be. Wouldn't be the first time. We'll need to keep
a sharp eye out for anyone else, especially Nightlanders. Their magic is dangerous.
Legend says they come in thieves' fog."

Zach nodded. He sheathed his blade and they scampered into the
forest. A few birds screeched overhead.