Chapter Eleven

Star Light. Star Bright.

Some consider a moment of true terror as a test of your courage. If that were the case, the frozen Sarah was a genuine coward. They were surrounded. Fifty men against a handful of their own and Sarah was white as sheet of paper. Her expression was a veil of glazed panic. Like many, Sarah assumed being immobilized by fear would numb her mind as well. Yet the veil also seemed to mirror the unmoving Sarah in her mind's eye. It was as if she could see herself and in result she was wholly disappointed; disgusted. She wanted to shake herself out of it, but the mind boggling milliseconds crept on, each an excruciating eternity. Is this what one experienced when their body shut down? Her mind was in overdrive; assessing the situation, riffling through memories and contemplating tactics to reanimate her disconnected body.

Snap out of it! She cried to herself.

Oh my God, what are we going to do? Despite her unresponsive form she could feel the stiff bodies of her friends around her. Their breathing was low, heavy, and slow. Each inhalation appeared drawn out, as if time had reduced to a near stop.

"Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock. His voice rang clearly in her mind. Don't concern yourself with time, Sarah. An eternity can pass in a blink of an eye."

Jareth.

"Bluff, Sarah. Lie to them. You'll be surprised; you may even convince even yourself."

Of course, bluff, lie to them. Thank you, Jareth.

"I'm not telling you anything you don't already know."

Jareth?

"So this is 'the' Sarah?" the man's rough voice startled her back to reality. She felt the veil uplifting and was somehow certain that her ash-white, immobile self had not been detected, even among those nearest to her in proximity. The voice's owner stood smugly, his black, bulging eyes darting from one maker prize to another.

They don't know I am a coward, she thought before raising one steady hand with a stern and halting expression.

"I wouldn't count your prizes just yet," she said, her chin shooting up with defiant pride. "Certainly, I find you rather arrogant for someone who's about to be dealt a crippling blow." Bluff.

"Ha!"scoffed the man. "You think your measly five could take a Brotherhood army? I'd like to see you try."

"Would you now? Let's consider your odds again," Sarah smirked. Bluff, bluff, bluff. Buy time. Bluff. "Among your party you may have a total of three or four second generation brotherhood members; undoubtedly yourself and maybe those men nearest to you. Not the wisest of tactics, I must observe. Your other forty men, the ones shaking in their boots right now, have no possible means of protection other than the swords they have already begun to unsheathe. Dead giveaway. Swords can be bested quickly. I find melting to be rather an efficient method. It has the added bonus of scalding pants and legs, rendering your army temporarily useless. Which would allow time for a more thorough incapacitation of each. Now, you may be surprised at how powerful one maker could be. Melting swords in such mass requires a lot of maker energy, far greater than the power you yourself possess. Maybe you even doubt me. But before you risk your life for the sake of a doubt, ask yourself this: why is there such an astounding price on one little maker's head?"

"Even if what you say is true, I could defeat you while you were melting my army's swords."

"In theory you could try. But you do not account for the powers of my friends here."

"Enough of this. They are powerless in NMZ, like you."

"And so you are entitled to believe, but do you really want to gamble your army on a hunch?"

"Only second generation brotherhood can make in NMZ."

"Is that so?"Sarah said, hoping he would challenge her. She would only have to prove her power. He would take the rest for granted. She hoped. But what should she do? She had only mere seconds to demonstrate the depths of her power, as un-mastered as they were she would have to convince them all otherwise. Her stern face was a thick mask from which behind she was panicking internally.

They were still in the brush not far away from the invisible ladder. The terrain was sparser than in the heart of the walberries, but maneuvering around them would still be tricky. Furthermore, the army seemed to be looming above them, suffocating Sarah with their presence. She wanted more than anything to put space between them - a chance to breathe and bolster their odds. Sarah raised her hands up and out. This will have to be powerful and quick, she thought, regarding her hands and hoping the Brotherhood wouldn't realize her intentions before they had chance to fruition.

"Look at my friends," she said, trying to guise her movement as a gesture. "We are stronger than we appear." She stretched her arms out wider trying to mentally feel the metal of a large, invisible fan. She listened for its hefty blades as they circulated clockwise before her. First slowly, sucking the air from above and forcing forward a ghostly breeze. The army before her looked around them, startled. The men searched for the source of the wind and their spokesman looked irately at Sarah. He lifted his arms ready to send her a blow.

Sarah's concentration was fueled by the man's violent expression. She pushed the fan propellers harder, faster with her mind, and the wind it produced picked up with a vehement force. The maker toppled back along with the others nearest to him. He regained his balance only to be thrust further with the entire army, fighting against a bulldozing wind. They looked like dogs in the back of a pick-up truck, their cheeks plastered to the back of their heads as they moved in slow motion against nature.

Sarah dropped her arms to her side, exhausted. The mask forever painted on her face as she plastered a superior gaze upon the Brotherhood army.

The men stood up again, all aghast save their spokesman. His expression was hard and wild.

"Is that the best you got, Sarah?"

Sarah's mask almost faltered. She was so tired she wasn't sure she had anything left in her.

"No," she said her eyes ablaze. "That was just a taste."

"By all means, try again," he lifted his hand quickly driving it down powerfully before him. His own pointed gust sending Sarah and her friends toppling backwards. "My power may not be as evolved as yours but you are still out numbered. And I call your bluff - your friends are powerless in NMZ."

The cool earth beneath Sarah's body was extremely inviting. Her drained self wanted to sink deeper into the ground, but she lifted her arms concentrating on the man's taunting grin. She felt the wind's vigor emanating from her fingers. An acute tornado propelled out of her, targeting his mocking face. Success! Sarah watched through heavy eyes as part of the Brotherhood were swept away with the cyclone. She fought the fatigue coming over her but, despite her efforts, her surroundings went black. Oh no, Sarah thought, as her consciousness slipped away from her. I can't leave now!

"Rest, Sarah." His voice was melodic as she melted into the welcoming nothingness.

Whatever else was to transpire, her companions were now left to their own devices.

:/:/:/:/:/:/:/:/:/:/:/:

Holyoak liked having his legs dangling in mid air. He would often liberate his feet from his horse's stirrups and let her gallop about as he relinquished his control. He never thought much about the distance to the ground, nor feared falling. Then again, he had never found himself suspended hundreds of feet in the air with no visible place to set his foot. This was definitely not the same thing.

Beads of sweat pooled above his blonde brow before rolling down his face and tickling his red cheeks. His left foot slipped again and he clutched tighter to an invisible rail.

"How you doing down there?" Trothe yelled back from a several yards away.

"F-fine," he managed back. He cursed to himself, chastising his left leg for its unruly behavior. "Don't worry about me," the boy shouted up, "I'll be there in a second." He tried disguising his labored breathing. He didn't need to look any less ridiculous.

He just had to concentrate on each step. Not how far up he had come, or how far below his comrades had become. Each unsure movement of his legs brought him closer to the end of this treacherous entry. What kind of welcome was this?! He could just imagine the Welcome Committee of Wal… Welcome to Wal. Glad you didn't fall. It didn't matter. In the long run he knew he was where he was supposed to be. Even if Willa wasn't part of the equation he always knew he was meant for something else. Scaling invisible ladders aside, Holyoak felt in his bones that somehow he would be of crucial use in this mission.

"You're there," Trothe said, much closer to Holyoak than he suspected. Holyoak almost jumped with a start. "Hey there, relax, can't have you meeting your maker today," Trothe said with a smile.

Holyoak reached out for the hand Trothe was offering. "It's a bridge. I'd say two feet wide. And the end is there. Do you see the prism shaped door straight ahead? Judging from the size, I would guess it's about 500 feet from here. There is a railing on both ends. It appears to have bars about 10 inches apart. It seems stable." Trothe jumped up and down and the bridge rattled. Holyoak didn't feel reassured. "You can breathe now, Holyoak," he continued placing a firm hand on Holyoak's tense shoulder. "The worst is behind us."

Holyoak gave him a forced smile. His eyes flittered downward to his feet, still nothing to be seen but a distant terrain. No, this was worse he decided, fighting the swishing feeling in his stomach that was threatening to make him hurl the remains of his breakfast below.

"I wouldn't look down," Trothe added looking back at his green companion.

"Wait," Holyoak said, he was about to peel his eyes away from the ground below, but stopped suddenly. Something was amiss. "No, we need to look down."

Trothe joined Holyoak in his observation of the world below.

"Hurry," Trothe demanded a second later. "We are going to need reinforcements."

:/:/:/:/:/:/:/:/:/:/:/:

The Welcome Center of Wal quickly opened its prismed, double-paned doors upon Trothe and Holyoak's arrival. A dozen short and stocky men stood shoulder to shoulder in the shadow of a petite young girl that appeared to be younger than Holyoak. Evidently commanding the group, she rose her arm sharply and their muffled whispers died in the cool air of the vast atrium.

"We've been watching," she said matter-of-factly. Her voice was deep and wise in contradiction with her youthful air. She was clad in midnight blue, wearing a train of shimmering dark fabric that draped with consideration over her tiny figure. Her pale skin was a stark contrast on the deep sea of blue cloth and when she moved gracefully towards the travelers her skin seemed to shimmer.

It was like beholding a star.

"I know why you've come and we are willing to be of service. Quickly, my men will take you to the observatories; there is access to the exterior of the wall. The makers of Wal can still can make there without consequence, but anywhere beyond that point and we are defenseless." Her voice resonated deeply as she locked arms with Trothe guiding them to the unknown.

In any other situation Trothe would have hesitated. Even Holyoak would have paused to assess, but the girl's kindness was disarming. Her beauty and warmth rendered the two men quickly injudicious. Whether they were rash and foolish would only be determined by the girl's true intentions. They followed her and her men out of the large atrium and into a long corridor that eventually wound out to a series of crystal beaded openings; they shimmered brightly in the dimly lit hall. The men pushed through the tether of incandescent panels and let in the bright light of day. Trothe and Holyoak squinted into the sun and cast down their gaze. They could just make out where Sarah and her comrades were facing fifty of the Brotherhood.

Red hot panic grew in Holyoak's cheeks and Trothe looked imploringly at the glimmering maker. Without acknowledging Trothe's plea, the girl in midnight blue touched an invisible screen and the scene before them zoomed in until their traveling companions and the army were only a few feet before them. Sarah was down on the ground her hand stretched fiercely before. She sunk into the ground just as an invisible power swept a handful of men up and out of their vicinity. Sarah was down, and Willa sprung to her side. The remains of the Brotherhood army looked nervously about. They teetered uncertainly looking behind them, towards Sarah, and then raising their swords. A decision had been made as they advanced upon the small maker party. Aris drew her sword while Knightly readied his fists. Terajh yanked out a low and large branch that was embedded in the soil. He ran into the heart of the Brotherhood's army swinging violently from one opponent to another. It all had started so fast. Holyoak and Trothe had barely had time register what was happening. The squat men of Wal drew out bows fashioned with ash. They fastened arrows with silver tips holding the bowstring with their dominant hands. Their bodies were positioned perpendicular to the army before them and their feet shoulder-width apart. Pointing at their target with their left shoulder they released the arrows by simply relaxing their fingers. The movement seemed so effortless and fluid to Trothe and Holyoak. They hardly knew how it could be possible. Makers were supposed to be peace keeping, not weapon wielding.

"The world has changed," the girl in midnight blue's voice sounded from behind them. Trothe and Holyoak watched as several men keeled over gripping their legs or arms.

"We aim to injure, not to eliminate," she reminded the group.

"Can they see us?" Holyoak asked.

"No, you are safe in here."

Holyoak was far from being reassured as he shrunk back from the blood. One time a friend of his had fallen from his horse. His bone had broken and pierced through his skin. Holyoak had carried him to his father for mending; the warm blood had dripped all over him. He remembered thinking he didn't like the sight of it or its metallic smell. He hoped he would never see that much blood again. But this was entirely more gruesome. He looked up at Trothe who was only grinning, triumphantly.

"I only wish I could help," Trothe said, flatly. "You should have seen what they did to Ximuna."

The girl stood motionless next to him. Her voice was calm and smooth as she said, "I understand. Yet perhaps it is wise that you sat this one out. I believe there is too much anger in your heart."

"Damn right," Trothe huffed, "you bury enough of your own and you want justice."

"We remain faithful to our own souls by not surrendering our moral compass. We injure to survive, we do not eliminate."

"Perhaps you are right," Trothe said, hanging his head bitterly. "We can't let them change us."

"The world is changing, yes, but you and I, all of us here," she lifted her starry gaze towards the men of Wal, "we can control how much we change with it."

Holyoak and Trothe stared with amazement. The beautiful girl with such an innocent expression was much wiser than anyone they had the occasion to meet. They sat back and watched as the men of Wal rendered the Brotherhood army, maker by maker, powerless and imploring to surrender.

Holyoak and Trothe finally let out sigh of genuine relief. Aris had bent down to pickup Sarah, Willa's calm expression confirmed she would be alright. They had done it - the men of Wal, Sarah, and the others had defeated a part of the Brotherhood. In hindsight, it had been wise to follow the starry woman, Holyoak thought.

He was glad to see he hadn't been played the fool.