"We shall know in the morning," said Lord John. "It was close to us--not farther than the glade." The Lost World by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.
The gleaming radiance of dawn light on the plateau easily put to shame a European sunrise. This morning's misty air glowed with life, and Marguerite felt as if she stood inside an enormous pearl. The new day promised every possibility. Marguerite knew from experience that the new day lied. She took another sip of the excellent Lizard coffee and turned away.
Lizards breaking camp walked past her carrying packs and mysterious pieces of this and that. Two lugged between them a black roll of capture net. All over the open glade where they'd bivouacked last night, twenty or so Lizard voices rumbled and squawked. Roxton would've loved all this safari-like activity.
Marguerite spun on her heel then frowned when she found no one close. For a moment she'd felt someone … no, that was a lie … she'd felt Roxton standing at her back. But there was nothing to see except the steadily strengthening morning light and the busy Lizards.
Perhaps the coffee had called Roxton so clearly to mind. The sturdy old Lizard cook had made a campfire-perked pot nearly equal to the nectar Roxton used to brew. "That's the last of the coffee beans," Cook had said, "but today I'm celebrating."
Roxton would never be far, Jadna's mother had told Marguerite. And that she could find him if she knew where to seek. Oh blast, Marguerite remembered thinking at the time, another bloody treasure hunt, but ever since she'd looked in every face that came her way and behind every tree. Hoping. Wishing.
In her pocket Marguerite carried the letter from His Imperial Majesty Tribune to his good friend Lord Roxton. The curlicues of Lizard script went on at great length, but when you took away the "hail's" and "herein's" and "now therefore's," the message had been quite simple, "Salutations, old friend. Hope the plateau treats you well. If you can, please help Milady Alchemist. She has a little situation."
Milady had been devastated to learn of Roxton's death. "Oh, that won't make His Imperial Majesty happy at all! He's very fond of your Lord Roxton." Roxton could make a friend out of almost anyone.
Marguerite looked into Milady and Challenger's impromptu laboratory – a flimsy palm-frond lean-to the Lizards had woven this morning in less than fifteen minutes. Both scientists were bent over an unsteady bench loaded down with trays and flasks. They didn't look up until Marguerite's shadow blocked their light. Challenger waved a farewell. "Good luck," Milady chirped.
Marguerite tossed out the last dregs of her coffee and handed the tin cup to the Lizard cook. He added it to the top of his pack then slung the bag on a stack under a tall tree. Unburdened, Cook grabbed his crossbow and trotted for the gathering troop.
Today everyone would hunt with only the bare necessities. For Marguerite, that meant a rifle, a pistol and plenty of ammunition; and for Malone it seemed the same. His shotgun in his hand, Malone caught up to Marguerite as she walked in General Gengal's direction. "Good morning, Marguerite."
Late last night, or more likely very early this morning, a gentle hand had shook Marguerite awake and Challenger had whispered in her ear. "Malone and Veronica have found us. Milady and I are going to start some tests. Get what sleep you can." Soon after she'd heard the rustles and whispers of Veronica and Malone settling down. Veronica's soft, "Thanks, Ned," was followed by a watery sloshing sound and the gurgle of swallowing. In a few seconds it was quiet once again. The two must have run every step to have returned so soon.
Marguerite nodded Malone a "good morning," but as they walked he looked around Marguerite's feet and behind her. "Where's Bruiser?"
"Gone," was all that Marguerite could manage without cracking her cool façade. What had first seemed a miracle -– the instant healing of Bruiser's wound -– had turned out to be a curse. If that Lizard general had had his way, Bruiser would've been in last night's stew. And although Marguerite was glad Bruiser had taken to woods, she still worried. This damned plateau seemed determined to take everything she loved, and it gave so little back.
Malone missed a step. His immediate alarm for Bruiser made it even harder for Marguerite to stay calm. Malone always wore his heart on his sleeve. He would've made a terrible spy, even more so than the bluff and forthright Roxton.
"Gengal didn't …"
"No. Bruiser ran off last night. I'm sure he's fine, but Herr General's about to have kittens."
Malone chuckled, a tired sound that was more cough than laugh. "That would be sight to see."
"Wouldn't it though?" Marguerite stopped walking and turned to Malone. "I wanted to thank you for the fast turn around, Ned. You don't know how much it means to me."
"I think I do," Malone murmured in answer. He kissed Marguerite on the forehead. "Bruiser means a lot to all of us. Don't worry about him, okay?" He looked behind her. "Oh, General. Good morning. What did you have in mind for today's marching order?"
Far ahead of Marguerite, Malone's blond hair gleamed among the iron-helmed Lizards like a gold nugget among coals. It seems in the Lizard soldiers' battle creed, women were bad luck so Marguerite held the troop's hindermost position. A typically male paranoia, but she couldn't complain. To her left and a little behind, she caught occasional glimpses of Bruiser's black body drifting in and out among the trees. As far she knew, no one else had seen him.
Veronica had stayed with Challenger and Milady, and if the two scientists achieved a cure, would track down the Lizard hunting party. But before they'd headed out, Marguerite had made a point of thanking Veronica for last night's trip. Veronica had looked even more tired than Malone, but had smiled and hugged Marguerite. "My pleasure, big sister."
Marguerite perked up. Malone's gold head was dropping back and had about reached the Lizards lugging the capture net. Maybe he had good news. After a morning of walking in what seemed like circles, she needed something cheery.
The blue eyes held a spark of excitement, but Malone kept his voice down low. "Their tracker's picked up Gorkal's spoor. Says it's just a few hours old." He paused and looked at Marguerite. "Bruiser's tracking him too. His prints overlay Gorkal's quite a bit."
Marguerite glanced at him then, nodding sharply to her left, she whispered, "He's over there."
"Huh? Who?" Malone must be exhausted to be so obtuse.
"Bruiser!" Marguerite hissed.
"Oh shit!" Malone squinted in that direction. "Better tell him to stay away. The General issued a shoot-on-sight order. That's what I came back to tell you."
"Why that devious bastard! I'm going to go tell him …" Un-slinging her rifle, Marguerite had started toward the head of the column.
Malone grabbed Marguerite's arm and yanked her back. "You're forgetting how hard Bruiser is to kill, and Gengal's Lizards only have bows and arrows. He'll be okay, if he just stays out of sight."
Marguerite pulled her arm out of Malone's hand. "They've got swords, Malone! Bruiser's not a Lizard! Cut off his head and that's the end of him!"
Keeping an admirable grip on his calm, Malone pointed out, "They'd have to get pretty close for that. Let's just keep him away, okay?"
Marguerite's anger collapsed into a tired sigh. She shook her head. "Okay, I'll do what I can." She looked sidelong at the rainforest to her left. She hadn't seen Bruiser's shadow for several minutes now, "But that wolf has a mind of his own."
"Sure does." Malone kept step with her for a few minutes. The Lizards had pulled ahead. They'd have to double time if they wanted to catch up. "Look, why don't you come with me to the head of the column? Freak out the Lizards? I don't like you back here by yourself."
Marguerite had been about to protest that a dire wolf guarded her back, but changed her mind. If she were up front, Gengal might think twice about shooting Bruiser down.
"Hey!" Marguerite exclaimed as they pulled even with the last Lizard in the line. "Is it just me, or did we go by that mimic plant a few hours ago?" The colorful, chiming mimics were fairly rare on the plateau. Marguerite was sure they'd passed this large specimen not long after breaking camp.
Malone looked to where Marguerite pointed. His particular interest in mimic plants went back to his first day on the plateau. One had nearly eaten Malone for lunch until Veronica saved him.
"I think you're right. I remember that. Come on! We'd better find out what's going on." As Malone and Marguerite broke into a trot, the barks and howls of an angry wolf sounded up ahead.
[x}0v0{x]
After these things I looked, and behold, a door standing
open in heaven, and the first voice which I had heard, like the sound of a
trumpet speaking with me, said, "Come up here, and I will show you what must
take place after these things."
The Revelation to John, 4:1, King James Version of the Holy Bible
Oh dear, dark goings on. I wonder what happens now? Please drop a note. The story's getting very close to the end.
