The Silver Sphere (27 page)

Crunching through the leaves, Shelby considered their options.
What could they do other than wait? After touching the hilt of her saber, she felt
more at peace. She had proven herself in battle, and if it came down to it, she
would again. Her breath rose in puffs before her.

The moon hung pregnant in the night sky, surrounded by glittering
stars. A few clouds veiled the orb, throwing shadows across the dark landscape.
Still, they walked. Simon seemed to be doing well. He didn't speak other than to
point out markers along their path.

After some time passed, a chilling snarl
peeled from the east. The growl came from a distance, deep and grating. Everyone
froze.

"What the heck is that?" Max whispered.

"A Manticore," said Simon, sounding nervous. "We
must stay closer together. They do not tend to attack groups of people."

Shelby swallowed hard. It was like hearing the beast. "Well,
I'm all for tightening the group. That Manticore sounds pretty big. Simon, what
exactly is a Manticore?"

"Picture the head of a man, the body of a lion, and a tail
with a spiked ball at the end. Even though the head appears similar to a man's,
its intelligence is more like a beast's. I read they are almost extinct, so it is
rare to encounter one. But I heard one from a distance once, and my father told
me it was a Manticore."

"Well, we should be ready if this one decides to attack,"
Emily said. She pulled an arrow out and placed it on her bow.

They continued walking, trying to remain as quiet as possible.
Shelby loaded her crossbow, and Stuart drew his hand-cannon. The roar grew fainter
as they walked, and before long, they put their weapons away.

After a while, they rested to discuss their ideas. This round,
they did not make a fire, despite the chill. No time to spare. Rather, they sat
huddled together. Shelby drew her cloak tightly around herself.

The crunch of a snapping branch came from their right.

Shelby jerked to her feet. The Kin whirled to the direction of
the noise, and a gangly man stepped from behind a tree in front of them. He moved
forward a few paces, and Stuart aimed his hand-cannon at the intruder.

The figure froze.

"Not another step until you tell us what you seek,"
said Stuart.

"Well, your hand-cannon won't help you much here, son. You
are surrounded by twenty crossbows. One move on your part, and they will release,"
he said coolly. "Nice fertility sign, by the way." The man smirked at
the smeared sigil on Stuart's chest.

They all peered around uneasily, seeing no one but the gangly
man.

Shelby frowned and rested her hand on
her crossbow. An arrow was loaded and it was ready to fire. Should the trespasser
make any sudden movements, she'd shoot him. "What do you want?"

He folded his stick-thin arms across his chest and strained his
blade-shaped face. "I think I'll be asking the questions. What are you doing
here, and where are you going?"

Simon blurted, "Our town was burned and plundered, and we
are simply trying to find someplace safe to go."

"From which village do you hail, child?"

"Gaston."

"Nightlanders, I assume."

Raising his arms, Simon snorted, "Who else?"

"Some pillaging has been done by bands of thieves and the
like, taking advantage of the confusion."

"Are you a band of thieves?" asked Simon.

"I am Blunderbuss." He moved forward a few paces again.

Simon didn't respond immediately. He stood motionless a second
before he spoke. "I recognize your name and have heard many things about you—some
good... some bad."

"Of course you have. All you need to know right now is that
we hate Nightlanders." Blunderbuss whistled.

Several men, expertly hidden in bushes and trees, came forward.
Every one of them dressed in earthy tones, with mud on their faces and matted hair.
In the dark, they were impossible to see until they moved.

"The woods around here aren't secure," Blunderbuss
said. "A Manticore is roaming, and we fought and killed a Nightlander patrol
and, of all things, a Zumbaki pack. Nightlander activity just picked up in the last
day. They are looking for something around here. Offer us payment, and we'll honorably
assist you through."

Riley glared at him. Shelby nodded to her friend and motioned
for Riley to relax.

She then stepped forward. "We only carry the clothes on
our backs and the weapons you see, plus a little food. We cannot spare any provisions."

Blunderbuss studied them and smiled. "Well then, we'll give
you safe passage, and you will owe us a debt." He pointed his spindly arms
to the woods behind him.

"And if we can't ever repay you?" said Riley.

"I'm good at reading people. If you can't, I will assume
you're dead. Then the tab won't really matter. I'd rather hold a bad debt than a
guilty conscience, letting a group of youngsters be killed in my territory."

Blunderbuss placed his right hand down as if petting a dog, and
his men all lowered their weapons. Some slung their crossbows around their backs.
A few grunted and muttered to one another.

"You mentioned you're looking for someplace safe. Any idea
where you're headed?" Blunderbuss strolled over to them with a warm grin plastered
to his face.

"Some friends up in the Canopus Hills are waiting to meet
with us," said Simon.

Blunderbuss gave him a wary glance, and shot a look at Max, who
stood closest.

Shelby had forgotten that they appeared
much older and formidable now. She hoped Max had caught on.

"Yes," said Max, "we visited Gaston when it was
attacked, and are not familiar with these parts. Simon is guiding us."

Shelby relaxed a hair.

"So, from where do you hail?"

"Meracuse," she blurted, wondering if she supplied
the right answer.

He rubbed his pointy chin. "Ah, city kids looking for adventure?"

"Visiting Simon and his family," said Stuart. "Figured
a little country air would do us well. We're all from the same school, Pictor Academy."

"Not safe in these woods right now, laddie. We are heading
to Vixen. We aim to restock and find out more information about Nightlander movement.
Vixen isn't far from here. I insist you join us, and you can make your plans from
there. I assure you that no Nightlanders are in the city."

"Safe in Vixen?" said Simon, wringing his hands.

"If you are with me. I own a private section at the Scuttlebutt."

Shelby motioned everyone closer and they huddled. "Vixen
is a city?"

Simon looked horrified at the thought of going to the town. "Yes,
but different than the others. Vixen is loaded with taverns, gambling, black markets,
and the sort. Local villagers go for entertainment, though my father told me it
was dangerous."

"Plenty of us together to protect each other," said
Riley. "We'd probably find out some things, and a couple hours of rest shouldn't
hurt. With all the Nightlanders tracking Simon around here, Vixen sounds safe for
a stop. We've been through a lot."

Shelby's brow creased. "Can we trust Blunderbuss? What if
he is leading us into a trap?"

"Vixen is populated by armed gangs," said Simon, "and
Blunderbuss and his kind would never want the Nightlanders to take over. He is right:
they would not allow entry to Nightlanders. The tales of Blunderbuss I've heard
did not include him harming children and youngsters."

"Okay then," Max said. "We go, eat real food,
and pick up intel and goods for the journey. I noticed a pouch of coogles in my
knapsack. I think you have the same too, guys."

They bobbed their heads in agreement.

Shelby turned to Blunderbuss. "Thank you. We accept your
offer. We wish not to stay long in Vixen, though."

"Fine by me. We planned on having a drink or two and grub,
gathering some supplies, and then heading back to our base. When we leave, we will
take you as far as our camp. Happens to be along the way to Canopus. After that,
you're on your own."

They hiked with Blunderbuss and his men for a half-hour. The
soldiers seemed a playful, merry group, snatching hats off one another's heads and
pick-pocketing each other's belongings. Their loud behavior shocked Shelby; had
they any fear of the Nightlander patrols, none of them showed it.

They waded through an area thick with brush, and Vixen came into
view as the group emerged from the thicket. The walls sprawled high, built with
massive lacquered logs lodged into a broad and polished concrete base. Shelby didn't
spot a gate or entrance, but she could hear the city. The muffled noise carried
through the air—the sound of civilization.

Blunderbuss and a few of his men led them to a space on the ground,
where a rusted, brown clamp protruded from the soil.

He grasped the hook and yanked the large hatch up. "There
are several entrances scattered around Vixen, all underground tunnels that lead
into the city. No horses or carriages allowed. They operate a stable for those near
the main hatch on the far side. I know the guards at this post."

They followed him down the shaft. The corridor at the bottom
of the stone steps was well lit with torches, and wide enough to bring in cattle
and other livestock. The tunnel smelled of earth and salt. There was another odor,
too—richer, sweeter, and it made Shelby's mouth water. A handful of blue-clad sentries
nodded to Blunderbuss as they drew closer.

"Been a while, Blunderbuss. I was worried with all that's
happening," the sentry said.

"Yep, troubled times, Torf."

Torf adjusted his pike and buckler. "Vixen is on high alert.
Main tunnel is closed. We spied a squad of Nightlanders passing by last night. Go
on in."

He was as wide as a wall and tall to boot. Shelby wouldn't want
to fight him in a scrap. Unlike most of the soldiers she'd seen, he was clean-shaven
and had short brown hair.

"Much obliged." Blunderbuss waved them into a foyer
past the guards.

They climbed a set of earth and stone steps. Torf hit a lever
and metal doors in the antechamber grated open. Bit by bit, the city came into view.
The Kin stepped forward.

"Wow," murmured Shelby.

Vixen teemed with activity. Rows of huts selling merchandise
spread out across the middle of the cobblestone square. Jugglers stood a few feet
away, garbed in brilliant motley. A jongleur strumming a banjo sprang up to them,
singing.

"VIXEN HAS WHAT YOU DESIRE,

COME FORTH I SAY AND SIMPLY ADMIRE,

GO AHEAD NOW ENJOY ALL YOU REQUIRE,

FOR THIS TOWN WILL NEVER TIRE,

BY THE WAY I'M FOR HIRE."

A florist in a tight-cinched tan bodice and a trail of calico
skirts carrying a bevy of roses approached Max. "Just one coogle a blossom
for your pretty lady," purred the florist, arching up to him.

Max's cheeks reddened. "Uh, sure," and he fished out
a coogle. He accepted the rose and turned to Shelby. "Milady," he chirped
with a flourish and a bow, handing her the flower.

Shelby felt herself blush, probably as crimson as the petals.
She twirled the stem in her fingers.

"Okay, now, follow me to the Scuttlebutt and stay close,"
Blunderbuss said as he strode forward.

They advanced through the bustling crowd. Smells and sounds assaulted
Shelby. Salts and dried meats were rich, and the odor of smoke hovered around their
stalls. Fruits and vegetables stormed her with ripe, citrus-like scents.

"Fresh eel from the Invunche here," cried out a fishmonger.

A fruiterer shouted, "Tasty Landorian apples, name your
price."

A scantily clad ecdysiast sidled up to Max, ruffling his hair
while swirling her curvy figure. Her violet and copper robes dipped low on her bare,
white back. The front of her shirt was covered with a shawl that glittered like
cloth of gold. Black hair fell in neat ringlets around her narrow face.

"A few coogles to dance with me, my prince," she crooned.