The Silver Sphere (8 page)

"Um, what are Zumbaki?" Shelby asked.

He called back, "Savage tribesmen, cannibals who roam the
Cark."

Sculptor sighed. "Ah, poor Vilaborg and Casselton. They
had a Kin to fetch in the Cark Woods. I do hope they're all right."

"No better pair than that one to be in the Cark," Barrick
said. "Borgy grew up there, and don't forget, both have intercepted before.
I spoke to some Tuskarians who told me the Cark is infested with evil souls and
vile monsters."

"You can't control where that portal of yours opens up,
can you?" asked Mr. Dempsey.

Sculptor nodded. "Alas, although the device is efficient
and transports our subjects safely, we cannot harness the powers needed to provide
a specific location. The mentors bestow the coordinates where we can open the mobile
portal. If an area doesn't consist of the proper nutrients and energies in the air,
this may harm our passengers. We'd love the ability to utilize the portal with an
entire brigade present, but the entry cannot operate with more than one or two living
beings in the area. Hence our duty as interceptors. Do not fear. We aren't far from
camp. We'll meet with our division in less than an hour."

"Let us ride now in silence while I find a safe spot to
take a break," said Barrick.

Shelby stretched one of her legs. Both of her knees were growing
stiff and sore from sitting so long in the hard leather saddle. Riding was new to
her. She had imagined as a little girl how one day she might own a horse, but she'd
never ridden one.

Barrick slowed down and dismounted. He waved a glowing compass
along the perimeter, and then sniffed at the air for some time.

"The Tuskarian race is part ogre," Sculptor whispered.
"They can smell a cigar a few miles away."

"We're close to the others now. We'll be safer when we join
them," Barrick said as he returned to his mount. He grabbed something from
his satchel and passed it back. "You must be hungry."

Shelby accepted the offering from Barrick and examined a hard
strip. She sniffed it and debated taking a bite, as a growl from her stomach reminded
her how famished she was.

"Very nourishing—chud. They're the roots of a druid."
Barrick shoved a large hunk in his mouth.

Shelby took this as welcome news. "Oh, a root. I don't eat
too much meat, so that's good."

"Aye, and I knew the druid we're eating—taught me to read
the trails up in Tuska. Close friend for most of my life, he was. Name was Janor."

She glared at Barrick, unsettled. They were devouring a man?
"I thought you said this was a root!"

"Aye, the root of a druid," he yammered, puzzled.

"Barrick, you ape," Sculptor shouted. "She has
no idea what a druid is. Why, our own youth barely met live ones." He turned
to her. "My dear, druids are tree people. They are mostly plant life, but with
the soul of a person. They have become rare of late."

Mr. Dempsey said, "Tree people?"

Sculptor nodded. "Why, yes, they are part tree. Nearly all
tree, in fact. The wood south of the Eridanus River had a village of druids at one
point. The forest there is moist and lush, quite a salubrious setting for druids."

"We're eating tree people?" Shelby scrunched up her
face and stared at the chud.

"The roots, my dear Shelby. Druids' stems can be found deep
in the ground after they die. They last forever and are in abundance. Takes a while
to dig them up, though. Old Floater Clancy is a rich man, since his family began
excavating druid roots for a living. They are excellent for long road trips and
the sort, because they don't rot and are full of nutrients."

Mr. Dempsey inspected the chud, turning the slice over a few
times. "Druids, you say. In our history, druids are ancient sorcerers who appeared
in Welsh and Irish lore. I believe I remember reading that the druids were renowned
for their power to transform trees into warriors and send them out to battle. Dryads
were considered tree spirits. I wonder if that legend has any connection to your
druids, the tree people."

Sculptor and Barrick shrugged, each of them chewing on the chud.

Mr. Dempsey took a bite. "Hmm, not bad. Actually very tasty."

Shelby took a small nip. She didn't relish the thought of eating
something that had been alive at one point, even if it wasn't meat. Mr. Dempsey
was right, though. The roots were flavorful. The chud was tough, like beef jerky,
but it didn't taste bland or stringy. Instead, it yielded a salty-sweet effect.

After a few minutes of eating chud and swilling some water, Barrick
remounted his horse, and they proceeded.

Shelby rode with Mr. Dempsey, if one could call it riding. Lenore
needed no guidance from her. She smirked. Rather than trying to make the mare follow
Barrick and Sculptor, she thought of their experience so far. This world was similar
to Earth, with plants, animals, and society, but everything was skewed—strange underbrush,
people who were part ogre, and food made from sentient trees.

"Whoa," Barrick called as he halted his steed ahead
of them. "Presage and the rest of the Kin should be camped just down this path."

They trotted along and soon entered a large campsite. Several
soldiers resembling Sculptor and Barrick stood as sentries.

Shelby shrank a little in the saddle. Hopefully these men were
as kind as her new companions.

"Barrick, Sculptor... rookies no longer," bellowed
one of the guards.

Another said with a snicker, "Well, well, broken in now,
are we?"

"Aye, Sol, you're just jealous Achernar didn't send a grizzled
veteran like you out, aren't you?" Barrick chided.

Sol cackled. "You can bet a hundred coogles I'd rather be
with division, my dear Barrick."

"Coogles are hard to come by these days, Sol. Or haven't
you heard we're in an economic contraction?"

"Oh, contraction, extension—balderdash! I'm just a soldier
for division. I wouldn't know how to invest a coogle in the Companies Square if
you gave it to me for free. Though I might spend some in Vixen."

A fellow with a stethoscope around his neck said, "The Square
sank another five percent today, boys, so perhaps you should get on after Malefic
before we lose our solitude savings, eh?"

"I made quite a bunch of coogles off of Floater Clancy's
place last quarter," Sculptor boasted as his horse cantered forward. "They
dug sixty acres of chud right outside Prickly Peak."

An older man wearing a well-tailored leather suit lurched up.
"You speak of coogles and the Square, fooling around and bragging. Do you understand
Malefic is gaining power, and that we'll be fighting for our lives? The time for
gibberish and joking is gone. Peace has made you soldiers soft. I pray you'll soon
grasp the circumstances. Lord Achernar has called the Kin to Azimuth, and if Biskara
is involved, many lives will be lost."

The old soldier bowed before Shelby, then gave a scowl to the
officers and trudged away. The troopers stood in silence for a few seconds, their
expressions sobered by shame.

Barrick turned to Shelby and Mr. Dempsey. "He's Rufus Morder,
a colonel in the Meridian Army. The last time Biskara gained power he lost one of
his sons. Forgive me for my rudeness." He motioned Sol closer. "This is
Shelby, and this here is Mr. Dempsey."

"I am honored to meet you. Name is Sol." He nodded
his head once. Sol, taller than Barrick, was not as muscular and appeared more human
than most. "Isn't he a bit on the gray side to be a Kin, Barrick?"

When he spoke, Shelby saw he had a gap between his teeth.

"Aye, he entered the portal with 'er," Barrick said.

"Such a thing ever happened before?"

"Pal o' mine, I sure hope so. I don't want to be the headmost
interceptor in history to bring in a free independent from the mobile portal."

"Uh, no, no, Barrick," Sculptor said. "I believe
I remember a reconnoiter telling me something about a whole bunch of independents,
animals, vehicles, and the like advancing through the portal before. I'm certain
we aren't the first ones." He peered over to Sol for reassurance.

"Oh, yes, fellas," Sol said. "I'm sure something
similar to this has happened before. I do pray so for your sake, because you would
never live this down. Bards will be singing rhymes and stories about your blunder
for eternity."

Sol broke into a hearty laugh and then caught himself, as if
recalling Rufus's comments just moments earlier. He looked off into the distance
where the veteran had disappeared.

Shelby followed his gaze and gaped. She had not anticipated such
a large camp. White canvas tents sprouted from the muddy ground. The pungent air
smelled unusual—a mixture of horses, campfires, food, and people—but it felt almost
familiar, as if she'd been in a place like this before.

Several soldiers jogged by. A few stopped and bowed to her. A
couple even took their helmets off. Each had dirt on his face and armor, mud on
his boots, and many of them were unshaven. Time out in the field had not been kind.

Apparently, few hot baths could be had. She felt a little sad,
having hoped for a rinse after riding for so long.

Something nagged at her. "Sculptor, where are the cities?"

"Meracuse, Meridia's capital, is several hours from here.
We may pass through a few villages, but we plan to avoid most in order to avert
any detection of the Kin."

She frowned.

Mr. Dempsey swept his hands across the vista. "This camp
is something else, don't you think, Shelby?"

"Sure is. Aren't people going to be worried, Mr. Dempsey?
I mean, didn't we leave the library wide open? And it must have been hours since
we left."

"Alas, dear Shelby, we can do nothing. When we return, I'm
sure I'll have a fair amount of explaining to do. No sense worrying about things
out of our hands. Who even knows how time passes between here and Earth."

While she and Mr. Dempsey spoke, Barrick and Sol also exchanged
a few words. Barrick, though short, still towered over Sol atop his charger. The
two comrades conversed in low tones, and Sol pointed across the camp to a small
hill.

Banners fluttered above some of the tents, their colorful fields
igniting a sudden passion within her. Mr. Dempsey was right; she couldn't control
getting home. Lord Achernar had brought her here for a reason, and no one had treated
her unjustly so far. While she missed her father, she knew these people needed her
and the other Kin more.

"How nice to meet you, Miss Shelby, Mr. Dempsey." Sol
gave a nod to them and then scurried away.

Barrick turned to them. "That there is Salty Sol Saunders.
Good soldier to have on yer side when things go awry. He told me Cumber and old
Presage got a group of Kin right over the hill here. What say we head on over?"
He dismounted and handed the reins of his steed to another soldier.

"The prospect would be reassuring, Barrick," Mr. Dempsey
said.

Shelby and Mr. Dempsey slid off the back of Lenore.

They trudged up the small hill, and every soldier they passed
said hello to Barrick and Sculptor or shot them nods of encouragement. A few smiled
at Shelby and Mr. Dempsey.

When they reached the top of the slope, excitement gripped her,
and Shelby twirled her ponytail around her finger. She viewed a group of others
her age sitting by a fire, with an older man in blue. He spoke while they listened.

As she and Mr. Dempsey approached behind Sculptor and Barrick,
everyone rose to their feet.

"Ah, my dear Shelby has arrived," said the man in blue.
"Now five Kin are present. Excellent. I see an adult independent is along for
the ride?"

Barrick said, more than a little embarrassed, "Oh, yes,
Presage, he is Miss Pardow's friend and accompanied her through the mobile portal."

"That's quite all right. An adult independent may be useful.
Welcome to our campsite. Let us make ourselves acquainted now, shall we? I am Presage."
He turned to the kids around the campfire. "Kin, this here is Shelby Pardow,
from Ohio. You are?" Presage nodded to Mr. Dempsey.

"Walter Dempsey. Pleased to meet you all."

"Hi," said Shelby. She scanned the other Kin.
How
refreshing to see human faces.

Presage proceeded to introduce them. "Max Tuttle, from Virginia."

Max nodded as he raised his hand up and fixed his hazel eyes
on her. Handsome and athletic, he resembled the quarterback from her high school.
His brown suede top was even shaped like a football jersey.

"Riley Upchurch, from Washington State."

Riley stood and flashed a pirate's smile. Her blonde hair glowed
in the fiery light. She plopped to the ground and held the front of her khaki-colored
leather skirt down.

Shelby grinned back. No doubt about it. She and Riley would be
quick friends.

"Emily Lawson, from Connecticut."

She waved as her flaxen hair danced past her waist, her green
eyes flickering. Unlike Riley, Emily looked terrified. Shelby hoped she could talk
with her soon. She knew how it felt to be insecure and abandoned. Now more than
ever, they needed to reassure one another that they were among friends.

"And here we have Stuart Lesser, from New York."

He lifted his head with a taut expression and gave only a half-wave.
His baggy, leather attire flapped around him as he reached for a cup of tea.

After Presage finished his introductions, the man with the stethoscope
ambled up to him and whispered in his ear.

Shelby ran her fingers through her hair and began playing with
her ponytail again. She gazed at Max and caught him in mid-stare. He blushed and
flashed away at once. For a brief few seconds, her heart stopped. A shy smile graced
her lips and she averted her eyes.

"I'll be right back, Mr. Dempsey," Shelby said. She
strode over to Riley and Emily. "Do you mind if I join you?"

"Sure," answered Riley. "This tea is delicious.
Can I pour you a cup?"