but
determinedly obnoxious. Nevertheless, we got through. When a manta
did attack, Whisper defeated it with her thaumaturgic craft.
To do so, she gave up control of the carpet. We fell, out of
control, till she drove the manta away. I got through without
losing my breakfast, but just barely. I never asked Elmo and
Kingpin, figuring they might not want their dignity betrayed.
Whisper would not attack first. That is the prime rule for
surviving the Plain of Fear. Don’t hit first. If you do, you
buy more than a duel. Every monster out there will go after
you.
We crossed without harm, as carpets usually do, and raced on,
all day long, into the night. We turned north. The air became
cooler. Whisper dropped to lower altitudes and slower speeds.
Morning found us over Forsberg, where the Company had served when
new in the Lady’s service. Elmo and I gawked over the
side.
Once I pointed, shouted, “There’s Deal.” We
had held that fortress briefly. Then Elmo pointed the other way.
There lay Oar, where we had pulled some fine, bloody tricks on the
Rebel, and earned the enmity of the Limper. Whisper flew so low we
could distinguish faces in the streets. Oar looked no more friendly
than it had eight years ago.
We passed on, rolled along above the treetops of the Great
Forest, ancient and virgin wilderness from which the White Rose had
conducted her campaigns against the Dominator. Whisper slowed
around noon. We drifted down into a wide sprawl that once had been
cleared land. A cluster of mounds in its middle betrayed the
handiwork of man, though now the barrows are scarcely
recognizable.
Whisper landed in the street of a town that was mostly ruin. I
presumed it to be the town occupied by the Eternal Guard, whose
task it is to prevent tampering with the Barrowland. They were
effective till betrayed by apathy elsewhere.
It took the Resurrectionists three hundred seventy years to open
the Barrowland, and then they did not get what they wanted. The
Lady returned, with the Taken, but the Dominator remained
chained.
The Lady obliterated the Resurrectionist movement root and
branch. Some reward, eh?
A handful of men left a building still in good repair. I
eavesdropped on their exchange with Whisper, understood a few
words. “Recall your Forsberger?” I asked Elmo, while
trying to shake the stiffness out of my muscles.
“It’ll come back. Want to give Kingpin a look? He
don’t seem right.”
He wasn’t bad off. Just scared. Took a while to convince
him we were back on the ground.
The locals, descendants of the Guards who had watched the
Barrowland for centuries, showed us to our quarters. The town was
being restored. We were the forerunners of a horde of new
blood.
Goblin and two of our best soldiers came in on Whisper’s
next flight, three days later. They said the Company had left
Frost.
I asked if it looked like the Limper was holding a grudge.
“Not that I could see,” Goblin said. “But that
don’t mean anything.”
No, it didn’t.
The last four men arrived three days later. Whisper moved into
our barracks. We formed a sort of bodyguard cum police force.
Besides protecting her, we were supposed to help make sure
unauthorized persons did not get near the Barrowland.
The Taken called Feather appeared, bringing her own bodyguard.
Specialists determined to investigate the Barrowland came up with a
battalion of laborers hired in Oar. The laborers cleared the trash
and brush, up to the Barrowland proper. Entry there, without
appropriate protection, meant a slow, painful death. The protective
spells the White Rose left hadn’t faded with the Lady’s
resurrection. And she had added her own. I guess she is terrified
he will break loose.
The Taken Journey arrived, bringing troops of his own. He
established outposts in the Great Forest. The Taken took turns
making airborne patrols. We minions watched one another as closely
as we watched the rest of the world. Something big was afoot.
Nobody was saying so, but that
determinedly obnoxious. Nevertheless, we got through. When a manta
did attack, Whisper defeated it with her thaumaturgic craft.
To do so, she gave up control of the carpet. We fell, out of
control, till she drove the manta away. I got through without
losing my breakfast, but just barely. I never asked Elmo and
Kingpin, figuring they might not want their dignity betrayed.
Whisper would not attack first. That is the prime rule for
surviving the Plain of Fear. Don’t hit first. If you do, you
buy more than a duel. Every monster out there will go after
you.
We crossed without harm, as carpets usually do, and raced on,
all day long, into the night. We turned north. The air became
cooler. Whisper dropped to lower altitudes and slower speeds.
Morning found us over Forsberg, where the Company had served when
new in the Lady’s service. Elmo and I gawked over the
side.
Once I pointed, shouted, “There’s Deal.” We
had held that fortress briefly. Then Elmo pointed the other way.
There lay Oar, where we had pulled some fine, bloody tricks on the
Rebel, and earned the enmity of the Limper. Whisper flew so low we
could distinguish faces in the streets. Oar looked no more friendly
than it had eight years ago.
We passed on, rolled along above the treetops of the Great
Forest, ancient and virgin wilderness from which the White Rose had
conducted her campaigns against the Dominator. Whisper slowed
around noon. We drifted down into a wide sprawl that once had been
cleared land. A cluster of mounds in its middle betrayed the
handiwork of man, though now the barrows are scarcely
recognizable.
Whisper landed in the street of a town that was mostly ruin. I
presumed it to be the town occupied by the Eternal Guard, whose
task it is to prevent tampering with the Barrowland. They were
effective till betrayed by apathy elsewhere.
It took the Resurrectionists three hundred seventy years to open
the Barrowland, and then they did not get what they wanted. The
Lady returned, with the Taken, but the Dominator remained
chained.
The Lady obliterated the Resurrectionist movement root and
branch. Some reward, eh?
A handful of men left a building still in good repair. I
eavesdropped on their exchange with Whisper, understood a few
words. “Recall your Forsberger?” I asked Elmo, while
trying to shake the stiffness out of my muscles.
“It’ll come back. Want to give Kingpin a look? He
don’t seem right.”
He wasn’t bad off. Just scared. Took a while to convince
him we were back on the ground.
The locals, descendants of the Guards who had watched the
Barrowland for centuries, showed us to our quarters. The town was
being restored. We were the forerunners of a horde of new
blood.
Goblin and two of our best soldiers came in on Whisper’s
next flight, three days later. They said the Company had left
Frost.
I asked if it looked like the Limper was holding a grudge.
“Not that I could see,” Goblin said. “But that
don’t mean anything.”
No, it didn’t.
The last four men arrived three days later. Whisper moved into
our barracks. We formed a sort of bodyguard cum police force.
Besides protecting her, we were supposed to help make sure
unauthorized persons did not get near the Barrowland.
The Taken called Feather appeared, bringing her own bodyguard.
Specialists determined to investigate the Barrowland came up with a
battalion of laborers hired in Oar. The laborers cleared the trash
and brush, up to the Barrowland proper. Entry there, without
appropriate protection, meant a slow, painful death. The protective
spells the White Rose left hadn’t faded with the Lady’s
resurrection. And she had added her own. I guess she is terrified
he will break loose.
The Taken Journey arrived, bringing troops of his own. He
established outposts in the Great Forest. The Taken took turns
making airborne patrols. We minions watched one another as closely
as we watched the rest of the world. Something big was afoot.
Nobody was saying so, but that
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