A tray with three different decks of the scripts was placed on a stump before Carlos. "Oh, no. Let the doomed group choose first," the monster said quickly with a motion of his barrowed body's hand.
Both Carlos and Gregory stood on small hills that were just tall enough to see into a maze that had formed in the leafy grass below them. The narrow walls of the labyrinth maze were wide enough for nothing but one of the scripts to fit between them. Both players were supposed to move their pieces to the center of the board where an "x" marked the finish line. The decks of scripts Gregory and Carlos had chosen sat in front of them on the hills. Carlos's mouth grinned slightly as the monster put the scripts into play. He laid three scripts on the Labyrinth Board face down. It was the group's turn now. Greg couldn't think of anything to do. He barely understood the game! He just drew five scripts, as Carlos had done, and looked at them.
These scripts were unlike anything Gregory had ever seen in the school or the farm. They had ornate pictures on every script and each one was different than the other. One of the scripts he drew had a dragon with twelve heads. The next script had a fountain with gold water falling onto grapes. The third had a bright sun standing over a large castle. Greg knew that the three of these were Beast Scripts because a small wolf silhouette sat in the corner. The next two scripts were Will Scripts. They both had a tendril of smoke in the corner. The first Will Script had a long twisting road. The second had a blue snake on the edge of a cliff. The pictures were so realistic. They each seemed to jump out of every script. The things that really confused and almost frightened Gregory were the words at the bottom of the scripts. They seemed to be written in a different language. He was sure that the thing in front of him was in league with Anthony and Bantor's enemies. He could tell from the look in Carlos's eyes that they were laying a trap of some kind. Should he even play? Was this just a diversion?
With all his worrying, Gregory knew that it would come to nothing: he had to play. What else could he do? Greg knew that the others: Margaret, Marcus, Francis, even all of Bantor, was relying on him. He had to do something to help them and there was nothing else to say. So, he laid down two scripts with care that made it seem like he knew what he was doing. One Beast Script with 1000 points and the picture of the fountain (the highest script out of the five in his hand) and the road Will Script. It added 200 points to the Beast Script. That made 1200 points in all. Carlos would have to beat all those points! Maybe he had a chance after all!
Unfortunately, Carlos had more than Greg and Margaret's 1200 points. The monster flipped his scripts up and reviled three pictured scripts. The scripts' pictures illuminated an overwhelming feeling. They almost felt alive…like they could think and feel themselves. The scripts in his deck looked and felt dark and cruel. Everyone in the city could feel the hate seeping out of those scripts. Each picture on the scripts portrayed death and fire. One Beast Script had a rotting corps on the front. It looked powerful but Gregory would have never guessed that it had over 1500 points on its' own. With the added points from the skull Will Scripts the total came out at 2200 points. Carlos was able to move 100 spaces on the Labyrinth Board. Gregory was blown away as he physically felt the loss in his very core. A force from the game itself sent his head spinning. The monster saw the surprise in Gregory and Margaret's eyes and grinned.
"You wanted this to be a team," he jeered with mirth in Carlos's eyes. Seeing their pain made the win even better in the monster's mind. He moved a piece closer to the center of the Labyrinth. He was in a heavy lead when compared to the team opposite him.
How could anyone beat this creature? He and his scripts were so strong. They were not even of this world. Who was to say what this was really about? This was just too uncertain but then Greg remembered the two people behind him and he knew that he had to continue. The monster enjoyed causing pain and would inflict it on them and all the people in Bantor if he had the chance. Greg knew that he couldn't let that happen to any of them. He had to keep going. Gregory drew another script, hoping that it would be a strong one.
His wish was granted: it was powerful. The Beast Script had 2500 points and a picture of a burning book by a chest in the sky. He was about to lay the script on the board when he noticed something: the words on the bottom of the script started to look like Bantorian letters. He was about to examine it closer but the letters went back to their original squiggles instantly. Eyes must be playing tricks. He put the script on the Labyrinth Board and Carlos did the same as was done before.
The scripts were shown. Margaret's heart skipped a beat as she waited for the result. The monster's cruel, dark scripts added up to 2600 but theirs added up to 2700. They had won the round! Greg's piece moved 100 spaces on the Labyrinth Board. The game was now tied and Marcus prayed to keep winning. Even a small child like him knew how important the game was!
The monster's anger made Carlos's face go from a soft pink to a bright red as he pulled out more scripts and went first. He slammed down two more scripts on the board and gestured to Greg and the other two. Greg allowed Marcus to draw the script. His heart leaped as he saw that it was one Will Script. Greg put this new Will Script with the Castle Beast Script to total to 2600 points. He was about to put them down when he noticed something strange: The scripts were written in Bantorian again!
What was making it do that? The light or the slant or… THE EYES! Greg knew it then: He was looking through the scripts not at them. He saw double and the "letters" began to blend and formed words.
The words were written in an old fashioned way of speaking. Most people in Bantor would have been confused but the college's best professors taught Gregory the old tongue long ago. It said:
Do not rely on sight because
what you see can frighten you
Place your trust in Hope.
His teacher' words came flooding back. A man who taught long ago was a Prince who lived as a poor carpenter. He was really the True King's son but He came to Earth to live as a commoner die for everyone. Greg never understood what his teachers meant and he still wasn't completely sure. There was still more to the story that he did not know. His teachers never really believed that he would understand the rest but the words of the True King were calling out to him. The scholar in Greg wanted to read each and every one of the scripts until he knew all there was to know. No detail of the story seemed too small to go without notice but the patriot in him reminded him of his priorities. Gregory knew that the True King was helping him and he thought that was all he needed to know. The True King had sent these scripts to him to save the men but the scripts were not filled with the words of the True King. The story of the True King's son, the One Prince was written on the scripts that Greg held in his hands. The True King would use the One Prince to save men again because the Prince did not stay dead when he was killed – He conquered death and came back to life! Gregory prayed that the two people standing next to him would be able to beat death through the scripts as well.
He put the script down with peace and without worry. It didn't matter how many points the scripts he put down had. The True King was with him. He showed Carlos the scripts and Carlos's face paled through the red anger. Greg's scripts had 2600 points and his had 2300 points. All three of them breathed out a sigh of relief with the air he didn't know he was holding. He had won freedom for himself and the rest of the Bantorians… or he thought he had.
Chapter Twenty-One:
The Real Fight"You have won your freedom," the monster told the group using Carlos's voice that he laced with venom on every breath, "but all of Bantor is still our enemy. Only a fool lets his enemies escape alive." The monster paused only to pull out his sword and then continued. "So, I will have to make sure no enemies end up coming back to my master's city alive!" A fight ensued: The monster had the obvious advantage… It had weapons and an advantage in strength. Greg did all he could to keep the three of them alive: He told the other two what to do as they grabbed at rocks and sticks – anything they could use as a weapon. Greg ran to the equipment shed where he had been polishing Francis' old armor. He had seen a storage bin full of knives, javelins, and swords. He knew that the other two were without weapons and they couldn't survive long in that condition. The first priority was to get supplies. They needed weapons as soon as possible even though they were not trained.
Luckily Gregory was always a Farm boy at heart and he still possessed the strength of a field hand. He could easily carry ten heavy broad swords and a few knives as an added measure to the other two who were waiting for him in the woods. Greg ran as fast as he could – which was remarkably fast for a man with such short legs! He had made it to the place where he had left them in as little as a minute. Yet, the monster was already winning. The monster was using more magic and had called specters to fight for him. Both Margaret and Braine were fighting small groups separately and the spirits were already backing them up into corners where it would be impossible to maneuver even the smallest weapon. Luckily, he had arrived just in time to stop that from happening.
Every Bantorian knew the story of the Other War, the war that took place in another world. The story said that creatures of the other world could be defeated in two ways:
Use a charmed weapon against them (all charmed weapons are marked with thistle signs on their hilts).
Blue strips woven by creatures of light must be drug through the specter's center.
Francis had had both of these weapons in his shed and Greg planned on using both to his advantage. He used the ribbons on the specters that were trying to attack Margaret and the charmed sword on the spirits that were attacking Marcus. The creatures let out horrible screams. Margaret covered her ears every time they sounded but the dead had to be done. It was either the three of them, who had a life in front of them, or the spirits, who were already dead. Greg did what he had to do and then the three of them fled back to the carriage.
Chapter Twenty-Two: All that Carlos remembered(Or thought he remembered)
Greg knew that propriety ordered young couples to stay within the eyesight of a chaperone but he also knew that Margaret enjoyed changing those unwritten – but widely known and obeyed – rules of society. He decided to let her have her fun and even to play around with her. Francis agreed with the plan – saying that no father would anger a daughter who was willing to risk her reputation in such a way as this: there was no telling when she would take the next step and leave without being in a proper marriage. He took her to the place where they could be in private. Let the servants and the court members' talk! This would certainly move things forward!
He had planned on having a romantic walk around the prairie by the woods. He had set up a coach and a basket of food hours before he had planned on meeting Margaret. He knew that she would want to do this for the fun and adventure of keeping the court on their toes. Greg agreed that there was a possibility that Margaret would see the trip as too scandalous and refuse but he doubted that she would: Margaret was famous in some circles of the court for her daring escapades. Some even said that Louis allowed her to keep her father's seat because of them – her actions showed real backbone and proved to Louis that even a lowly female could show courage.
Of course, she did agree and the two of them road in silence as Margaret looked out the window. Greg sat and looked at her. He watched her eyes grow bigger and bigger as they got closer to their destination. She has been in that house too long, Greg thought to himself. None of his college chumps would look so doe-eyed at trees and flowers.
"This was a wonderful idea. It is so nice to be out of doors on a beautiful day."
"Yes, I was hoping that you would like it. I always find a walk away from the city to be very relaxing and invigorating."
Suddenly, Margaret stopped walking and held her mouth agape. "Look at that small boy. What could he be doing all the way out here?"
"There are no houses around here…" Gregory began.
"He must be lost!" Margaret's hand flew to her heart. Her sympathies were instantly flowing toward the young boy. She began to walk towards the clearing where the boy stood.
"Maybe I should walk up to the boy…" Gregory could not bring himself to trust a stranger like the lady could.
"It's nothing… He's only a boy," Margaret continued to walk as she explained to Greg that the child would not hurt her.
He quickly began to agree with her when he saw the boy's look of fear when he saw her moving towards him. The boy spoke respectfully to her but left as soon as he could.
"He seems rattled," Greg admitted to Margaret. "Why is he in such a hurry?" Margaret too felt that there was something deeper. The boy, of course did not trust them. He thought that they were like the others – Margaret knew what other nobles did to the peasants under their rule. Many of them bragged about the harsh punishments they had dealt out as if it made them a better ruler.
"Wait! We won't hurt you!" Margaret yelled after the boy as she fallowed him into the woods. She chased him blindly and never noticed the other man until it was too late. Luckily, Greg did see him. He ran to the stranger as he dove at Margaret. It was first the speed and then the strength that told him that this "man" was not a normal man. Greg was lucky enough to find a large branch in his reach when the thing pinned him down with one arm as he reached for the Lady with the other.
Greg swung the branch with all his might as he aimed it at the monster's head. The thing went down with a snap and a jerk of the head. By this time the boy was at the top of the crest of trees. "Papa!" yelled the boy as he knelt next to the thing. Margaret and Greg simply stared at him in shock – the boy reached out to touch the body of his father but was denied even that – at the touch of his fingers the body instantly turned to smoke.
The boy began to cry in huge, gapping sobs that shook his small body. Greg out his arm around the boy and patted his chest. "Come with me," Margaret commanded the boy in a gentle voice. "We'll take care of you."
Chapter Twenty-Three: What's in a Name?The three of them rode back to the manor in a grand carriage. Gregory and Margaret had been riding is coaches for quiet some time but it was Marcus's first carriage ride and despite his fear for his father, he was festinated by the carriage. He watched the rhythmic movement of the seats and the horses and tried to move his head in the same fashion. Margaret found herself staring back and forth between the boy and the young noble. The child was still worried but easily distracted with the new experience of being in a carriage. Gregory on the other hand was using his nervous energy to keep them safe – always looking behind him and asking the coachman to use side streets. Little did they know that they were riding into a civil war zone.
Peasants hurriedly ran through the crowd and handed broad swords to each man they saw in brown clothing. A young boy was handing his last two swords to a tall man when an archer's arrow rises through the air and managed to hit the now unarmed boy in the lung. The child gripped the arrow that protruded in his chest with both hands and ran towards the enemy line. Rage filled the eyes and hearts of many peasants as they saw that the child was unarmed.
Greg watched the carnage and swore that he heard the monster's menacing laughter as another riot broke out in front of them. It was then that Marcus saw his father in the fight in front of them. He yelled out in fright and pointed the figure out to both Margaret and Gregory. Again, the scream of his child brought Carlos out of his spell. Unfortunately, Anthony's lackey stood right next to him. The goon saw the clouds leave Carlos's eyes as panic replaced it. He punched Carlos in the jaw, knowing that the monster was no longer in control.
"No one will even guess at what you really are," the goon had said as his commanding voice assented into a shrill staccato. Carlos had felt the hate boil in him then and knew that the monster would return soon. Still, the beast did not inhabit him yet. Now he let all the pain and emotion he was feeling bottle up inside escape out. Carlos raised the sword over his head and swung at anything and anyone that got between himself and his son. People peasants and nobles alike fell around Carlos left and right. He hacked and stabbed at nothing at times in his blind rage and anger. Carlos didn't bother to turn his daze away from the carriage when he heard a bellowed howl and a yell from the city's entrance, "In the sky!" Wind burst through the buildings and blotted out the faint light. Peasants ran deep into the long churches and homes, scrambling for darkness and shelter from the breeze.
Everyone looked up to where a noble in golden yellow was pointing. The sky was full of winged creatures. With wingspans up to sixteen feet and bodies as hard as stone and the color of blood, these monsters were terrifying. The three-person party looked up in awe. They moved closer to the entrance as peasants ran past them deeper into the city's center.
"They almost look like humans…"Margaret mumbled next to Marcus as they all stared out the carriage's window. And she was right – the creatures' bodies did resemble that of a man: they had two arms and two legs and one head. The biggest difference in the silhouette was the addition of wings. Yet, the difference seemed huge because the wings were the creatures' most prominent feature even compared to their stony bodies.
The creatures' wings beat strong winds that the humans had to fight against just to stay on their two feet. Marcus though, seemed to be having the hardest time adjusting to the wind the wings had brought. He moved his fingers into a claw-like shape to grip the earth beneath him just to keep himself from flying through the air and blowing away. Half the winged creatures swarmed around the group while the other half dived deeper into the city. Gregory drew one of the swords he had left from the battle and the other two were about the draw weapons of their own when Francis shouted, "No!" above the roaring wind from a window high above them.
"They are trying to stop the fighting. They are on our side." Even little Marcus saw the logic in Francis's words and kept his own sword sheathed to wait. It seemed like hours had passed under the great windstorm. The three of them stood silently waiting while Marcus did the best he could to hang on. Relief washed over all of them as the creatures landed and the wind stopped… That relief was short-lived.
The creature's wind had moved them. Winged creatures and tall houses now surrounded the small party of eleven. There was nothing familiar in sight. The buildings and houses rose taller than the trees and came to a point at the tallest section of the layered roof where small feathers clung to sap and honey. Eight or ten houses sat on a row and grouped around a pole like a patch of flowers circles around a tree. Behind the houses was nothing but open fields. There were no woods in sight. "Where are we?" Gregory wondered out loud.
"Welcome to the city of the Negg Elves. It is our city and we protect it," said a gravelly voice from above them. "We attacked the city hoping to stop the fight of shallow men who do not know what they are doing and instead we find you. What are a student, a Lady and a child doing in the middle of a battle?" Everyone stared… who and what were these things? The Negg Elves that flew directly above them was slightly stronger than the others. His wings seemed to have an extra layer or two of feathers making the wind from them all the more powerful. The stronger wings and outspoken manner of the Negg Elves made Gregory believe that the one addressing them was the leader.
"We apologize if we have caused trouble, but we were also trying to stop the violence," said Gregory, hoping to find a common ground with the new creatures and maybe even finding a new ally.
The creature's stony face smiled. "Do men not fear wars? Your race has never been brave enough to try to love without such petty things. You run whenever something stronger comes up. Why are things changing now?"
Gregory tried to keep a calm expression on his face but inside his blood was boiling. "Creatures threatened our kind before. They even stole from us and nothing was ever done until they hurt us. Recently Invaders and civil war has forced people to raid homes and kill their neighbors… Inaction was not an option. Humans had to do something. We had to fight them to save our home and our lives."
"The race of Man is braver than I had first thought," said the winged creature slowly. Gregory and Margaret relaxed knowing that the creature was no longer hostile or insulting. The words acted like a salve on fresh wounds. The burning sting of the old words seemed to be soothed with the cool touch of the new. "We have the same enemy, and the enemy of my enemy is my friend." The stony leader seemed to be considering a thousand and two thoughts in his baldhead. "Please come and rest here for the night," the Negg Elf finally said with slow words and careful choices.
"That is a good offer and I am sorry we cannot accept but we still have much more to do. Our quest is to destroy the differences that divide men and bring them together as one race. Peasants and nobles should work together for the good of all and not have these petty arguments. The Invaders would be forced to leave then," Francis explained with the same careful tone the Negg Elf used.
"Your kind is certainly ambitious… Please stay the night. My army is tired and needs rest. In the morning, we will bring you back to the woods where your quest can be finished."
"Why do you want to help us?" asked Gregory carefully. "Why not just take the easy way out and kill the entire race?"
"Humans have done a worse than any other race that I know of but they do good to. The war has stolen our most prized possession: the only real treasure we had."
The three of them exchanged looks. These creatures valued something even more than their own lives? What could be so precious? The creature went on to explain, "The monsters stole more than just material things. They stole our city's very soul!" The Elf's eyes filled with tears and he stopped for a moment to regain his composure. "They stole knowledge from the very heart of the city," his voice cracked and could no longer continue.
"They stole histories?" Asked Gregory as he thought of how some of his professors would react to the statement that the Negg Elves were making.
"Not just any histories. They stole the book that taught our ancestors how to make inks and paper in their purist forms." Images passed through the Negg Elf's head as he spoke. He saw pages and books full of images that were so detailed they seemed to move and breath. The words soared off the pages and into the very hearts of the citizens of the city. He was broken out of his thoughts by the men softly clearing their throats. "Then, the monsters used our incredible knowledge to create more scripts for their selfish game. They practically waste thousands of years of study. We would have shared the knowledge with them if they had asked. Then we would have used the knowledge for its true purpose while the monsters still made scripts and built up their game. All they had to do was ask but they didn't even do that. They just took!"
The Negg Elf let out a slow breath to calm himself. "Our children will never learn the traditions of our ancestors if our knowledge is not restored to us. I cannot let our children and children's children live in ignorance! So, our army attacks the war and the cities that it hides in. We will live forever and our race will continue to fight until the knowledge is returned to us. One day we will hold what is ours again." The words pored out of the stony mouth with a hiss of the seriousness and severity of his promise. Gregory was amazed at the determination in the leader's words and the emotion of his voice while men stood on the edge of something similar to shock.
Margaret nodded her head in understanding, looking down at the small child who was holding her hand so tenderly. Marcus also nodded though he had no idea why. The stone creature's words were confusing to him. He had never married or had children and those events can change a person's thinking greatly. Once any living creature becomes a parent, one thing rules their lives: children. Each generation wants the other to have things that they couldn't get and to learn from the previous generations' mistakes. To those parents knowledge of the past is useful because it helps their children. It can keep one generation from falling into the same traps the previous one did. The information could buy and save the lives of thousands. History and knowledge can really be valuable. Information can save a life and has as much value as the lives it saves.
Marcus pondered all this while the Negg Elves brought the three of them before their Queen. Every visitor to the city had to be presented to her – even if those visitors were only passing through. The Queen wanted to see everyone. The Negg Elves' community was small and secluded and the Queen wanted it to stay that way. She made everyone take a vow of silence and meet her trust-worthy standards. After what seemed like hours of walking through the village, the three of them stood in a circular room with dark green climbing up the almost-blue green walls onto a spiraling staircase. Gregory shifted in his boots and Margaret tried not to move. Marcus could feel the hidden eyes of someone else on him. The tap of a dainty foot sounded as a tall woman in blue stepped onto the stairs. The three travelers and the whole assembly saw the round-faced queen walking towards them.
"So these are the travelers from Bantor," she said to no one in particular. Gregory was about to speak but the queen began again before words could leave his mouth. "Your Bantor's finest citizens – some of the few who are actively trying to save lives and stop war," she said through clouded eyes. "Yet your travel will lead you to plain clothes and old leather. It looks suspicious even if you say that our enemies are one and the same." She stopped to let her words sink in. Now Gregory found his words anew and began to speak.
"Do you think it will really avoid country roads? I thought that the city would be safer – more people to help us if we need it…" Margaret did not agree with Greg's idea at first but she began to agree with him as he explained further:
"The monster is in disguise as a man. He wants to go into the city. If he was able to attack better in the country he wouldn't have bothered with the disguise."
Margaret couldn't argue with Gregory's logic but something was still bothering her: Why was the monster after the boy. If he wanted to simply eat the boy, he could have done it before either of the adults was able to stop him. Why had he only grabbed the child?
"It would be hard to travel through the woods in finery or surprise enemies in white armor with a gouty coat of arms."
The Queen smiled. "Yes, gray and leather does seem more appropriate for you. You are very resourceful for humans." Again the queen paused and began again. "Has the king sent you to me to make a battle pact or are you here on your own?"
The three humans stared at the queen in disbelief. Marcus's eyes drew to twice their normal size but not even his expressive features could not match the surprise that Margaret felt or the rate at which her eyes grew.
"We are not here for a pact at all!" Margaret began in an already breathless voice. She stammered at first, at a loss for words until Gregory finished for her.
"We both want to stop the war before it takes any more lives. The problem is that we are going about that in different ways. Margaret, Marcus, and I are trying to stop the war through example while you are trying to destroy all weapons and make war impossible. There is no way we could join forces because our methods are too different."
They nodded, signifying that she understood and sent the three of them back to the city where they had been found.
"We will fight to the death an in the end be successful because we know that we were right." Anthony had to stop, as he was choked emotion as he remembered his father. The old man had been dying when he said those words and he was in an amazing amount of pain but he quickly surged on through his speech. "Take this stone with you and rub it whenever you need us. We will hear the urgency of your thoughts and come to you." On that note his father had left Anthony in charge of the estate. He was alone then and so unsure of himself. He sat in the empty room, hoping that he knew where he was going. He did not know then what he did now: that he would always be alone.
Neither Margaret nor Gregory wanted to scare the boy; their concerns for him were exchanged with written words. Each of them agreed that it would be dangerous to just let the boy loose in the town and that they wanted – nay needed more information. "Do you have a home, child?" Asked Margaret. Marcus shook his head. "Then you should stay with me."
Margaret spoke to her father about the child. The Count was against letting Margaret keep a strange peasant in the house for no reason – he agreed to let the child stay if he earned his keep. Margaret could not defy her father but she made it as easy for Marcus as she could: all the servants knew not to hurt Marcus– a common punishment was for the cook to beat someone who had done wrong. Marcus's job was to follow Jacques, the candle boy on his work. The two boys seemed to like each other and quickly turned the job of lighting the candles into a game. Still, Marcus never forgot why he was really there.