Chapter XI

"Out of the Frying Pan…"

The vast countryside seemed to go on forever as the lush carpet of green apparently stretched into infinity. The rolling grass hillocks that formed the greater part of the landscape flattened out into plateaus in some areas and upon these little uplands sat small clusters of trees that formed into miniature forests from which the minute tittering of birds could be heard. Far-off curls of grey smoke rose into the air, a contrast against the blue cloud-filled sky of a pristine August day, while a temperate sun wrapped the land in a blanket of warmth.

"How much farther do we have to walk?" Leena huffed and wheezed as she neared the crest of the hill. She wiped her brow with a handkerchief and stuffed it back into her pocket. "God, this is terrible. I'm so out of shape."

"Just a bit more," Glenn replied while taking Leena by the hand and helping her up. He pointed forward toward what looked like thatched roofs in the distance. "If what Kid told us is correct, that should be the township of Odissa."

Leena rubbed her sore back and grimaced. "You know, you could've been a bit more accommodating on that ship and allowed me to sit down."

"Prisoners are not allowed creature comforts," Glenn said with a wink. "It would have given us away."

"Next time we switch roles."

"I'll think about it."

Leena grinned and punched Glenn on the shoulder; the both of them descended the hill, the afternoon air filled with the sound of their laughter.

The rear of the butcher's shop was utterly revolting, Leena thought to herself. Cow and pig carcasses dangled on large, evil looking hooks that were affixed along the wooden walls of the room and the place smelled badly of spoiled meat. Large pails of animal entrails sat on bloodstained slaughtering tables and it appeared as though whole colonies of flies frequented the unwashed chopping boards that lay piled up against a filthy wash tub. She wrinkled her nose at the stench and turned to Glenn, who was waiting patiently near the door and seemingly unperturbed by the miasma of rancid fat.

"How can you stand there and take this stuff in?" Leena asked in disbelief. "It's like being locked in a room full of hot garbage…hot, meat-based garbage at that."

"I breathe in and out through my mouth."

"Well, that's a bit disgusting."

The heavy reinforced door swung open with a bang and the butcher, a large, chubby fellow brandishing a cleaver and sporting a blood-bespattered leather apron lumbered in. He flung the knife in a tremendous show of strength; the blade hurtled through the air and planted itself in the wall at the opposite end of the room with a loud thwack, causing Leena to jump slightly and shriek in shock. He looked at her curiously and burst into a deep, hearty laugh, hands clasped over his prominent belly.

"Aye, weel then," the butcher said, "What can I do for ye? Pound of pork? Cow's tongue?" He glanced at Leena and chuckled. "Or perhaps a glass of whiskey for the puir wee lassie?"

"No, that won't be necessary," Glenn said as he reached into his tunic and drew out the piece of paper Kid had given him. He presented it to the butcher, who took the scrap of parchment with a large calloused hand. "A letter of introduction from a mutual friend."

The butcher scanned the dark scribbling and furrowed his brow in thought. After awhile he pocketed the note and crossed his arms, eyes fixed on the two visitors. "Do ye ken what you'll be getting yerself intae?"

Glenn and Leena nodded in unison.

"Good. Just thocht I'd check so that if the both of ye get yerselves killed, I won't feel bad," he said gruffly.

The butcher carried himself over to the wash tub and worked the water pump, cleaning animal blood off his hands, which gave the water a pinkish tinge as it coursed down through the mouth of the faucet and into the drain. He dried himself off and sauntered over to a set of shelves that rested below a sinister row of hooks and felt around the underside of one of the planks. He produced a small ornately engraved silver ring and held it up close to Glenn's face.

"This ring will identify ye as a friend o' the Resistance," the butcher said as he dropped the piece of jewelry into Glenn's open palm. "Ye will find a guid bit o' help amang the folk who sympathize with oor cause against Porre. But if ye be caught with this in your possession, ye will be as guid as deid, ye ken laddie?"

"Yes, I understand."

"Now then, ye must go north and intae the belly o' the beast," the butcher explained, "where ye will have tae meet with a friend o' mine. I'll give ye the address and his name." He picked up a nail, dipped it into a small puddle of congealing blood and scrawled the information on a piece of meat wrapping paper. "He'll be able tae help ye further with finding this Norris. It will be a long way tae go if ye travel by foot, but ye can cut the journey short if ye can manage to get on a locomotive."

Leena gawked at bloodied parchment and turned pale.

Glenn blew softly over the makeshift ink and tucked it back into his pocket once he was satisfied that it had dried. He rolled the ring between his index finger and thumb, carefully examining the intricate carving of a crest and in particular the words that were engrave onto the silver surface. He gasped and nearly dropped the silver ornament.

"The Royal Order of the Knights of the Square Table!" Glenn said in awe. He looked at the butcher in bewilderment, mouth agape, and eyes huge with excitement. "That means you—"

The butcher nodded quietly. "Once upon a time, laddie, but not anymore. Porre saw tae it when they dissolved the kingdom that nae trace o' Guardia ever existed, including the knights."

"But the Queen and the Prince Consort? What happened—"

There was a sudden loud pounding at the front door of the shop followed by the unmistakable tinkle of broken glass and raucous shouting. The butcher quickly spun around and a look of despair darkened his visage.

"In the name of the Republic open this door at once!" a voice cried.

"Soldiers!" the butcher exclaimed. He turned to Glenn and seized him by the shoulders. "You and the lassie will have tae go now! There's a way oot thrae the back just behind the carcasses!"

"But what about you?" Leena asked.

"I'll make do." The butcher seized the cleaver that was embedded in the wall and pulled it out with a grunt. "They've come for me, but they'll nivver brang me in alive!"

"We can help you with them," Glenn declared valiantly, his sword hand already wrapped around the hilt of the Einlanzer.

"There's nae point, laddie. In but a moment, more soldiers and poliss will be swarming o'er the shop. Ye cannae search for your man if ye be deid or arrested."

More shouts and pounding on the door.

Glenn grasped the butcher's one free hand and shook it vigorously. "We cannot thank you enough for your assistance."

"G'wan with ye, laddie and Godspeed."

The hinges finally gave way and the front door collapsed with a crash just as Glenn and Leena disappeared through the back exit. Three Porre soldiers and two grey-clad militiamen barged in wielding pikes and pistols, the officer among them barking commands to search the premises.

The butcher wasted no time and charged out from the back with a cry, his cleaver raised high above his head. The sharpened edge of the instrument cut through the air horizontally and made contact with a militiaman's torso, splitting his tunic and belly open, and spilling the contents of his abdomen onto the ground. The Porre officer thrust his pike at the butcher, missed, and received a blow to the head that split his skull open. Like an enraged bull, the butcher descended upon another militiaman, burying the cleaver in the man's neck and severing the jugular vein.

Leena could hear the shrill cry of whistles coming from the direction of the butcher shop as she and Glenn fled. She winced at the instantly recognizable sound of discharging firearms shortly thereafter and said a silent prayer for the butcher's soul as they ran past a small community chapel in the direction of the town gates.

"What's this 'locomotive' thing the butcher was talking about?" Leena asked Glenn as they neared the outskirts of Edensa.

"A big, steel apparatus that runs on metal rails strung along the ground."

"Is it a form of transportation?"

"Yes." Glenn stopped and wiped his brow. "It runs on a steam engine, like most of Porre's metal toys. If we can get onto one we'll be able to cut our time short by a few days. It's an awful long walk to the capital."

"And you know this by way of?"

"Intelligence briefings and an overly inquisitive mind," Glenn replied with a grin.

The whistle on top of the bulky black engine delivered three shrill blasts and jets of steam shot out from the undercarriage as crewmen shuffled about in preparation for departure. The crowd that lined the wooden dais of the station slowly surged forward into the long line of passenger cars and hoarse cries of "Edensa, Porre, Truce!" echoed across the platform, bestowing upon the scene an atmosphere of organized chaos.

The compartment was uncomfortably small and the benches that lined the opposite walls of the almost cage-like booth were narrow and hard. The only small measure of comfort offered by the Spartan surroundings was the burgundy wallpaper that served as a cynosure for the eyes, but left the other senses wanting. A single, half opened window allowed fresh air into the interior, providing relief from the sweaty, stagnant odor of the cabin's previous inhabitants while simultaneously providing a breathtaking view of the countryside that lay beyond the pane of glass.

Leena plopped down on the bench and scowled. "You'd think they'd at least put up some cushions of some sort," she said and rubbed the small of her back.

"I suppose Porre's more concerned with functionality than comfort," Glenn said as he took a seat next to her.

There was a jolt followed in quick succession by another, and the train slowly began to shift forward, leaving the station with a bellow of the whistle.

"So what do you make of all this so far?" Leena asked nonchalantly.

"I'm not entirely sure myself," he replied. "It's as though we're allowing Providence to guide us. We're going into this with the assurance of a sleepwalker."

She narrowed her eyes slightly. "You don't sound too confident."

"Suffice to say we've been substantially sidetracked in this…Porre affair. To think that it was supposed to have been so—so—simple and…mundane."

"Question a few fishermen and go home?"

He nodded. "That was the initial plan."

"Things happen for a reason, I guess. You might even say it's—"

"Fate?" Glenn blurted out before realizing that he had even opened his mouth.

"Yes," Leena said with a smile, "fate, destiny, you can take your pick."

"In a way," Glenn began to say as he pulled off a boot, "I'm…glad things turned out as they did."

"Oh? Why do you say that? Not for want of life-threatening situations, chases and adventure, I'm guessing?" she suggested teasingly.

"In part," he said sheepishly, "but what I meant was that—well, if it hadn't been for this whole mess I wouldn't have had the opportunity to—"

Leena raised an eyebrow and smirked, perfectly aware of what her companion was trying to say. "To?"

"To…" Glenn paused and bit his lower lip, his heart racing with nervous excitement. He had, without knowing it, talked himself into a corner and was within a hair's breath of revealing the depths of his emotions. "…to explore the lower parts of El Nido and…meet new people." He smiled weakly and mentally kicked himself for having skirted the issue.

"It's funny because I enjoy meeting new people as well." Leena slowly slid along the bench and moved toward Glenn until their noses were nearly touching. "You know, you're really, really, bad at lying," she whispered gently, a mischievous grin on her face.

Soft lips met his own as Leena pressed forward. Glenn momentarily cast aside his inhibitions to indulge in a gentle, silky, sweet embrace with the village girl he had fallen for since their first acquaintance. Wordlessly he drank her in, savoring the taste of the kiss and allowing the citrus scent of her hair to elevate him above and beyond the cares of the world. His hands met soft strawberry red tresses and he felt Leena's fingers delicately caressing his chest, each stroke like a bolt of lightning coursing through his body.

She pulled back and sighed, eyes still lightly closed; her mouth curled up in a goofy grin. "Fate?" she said at last.

"Fate," Glenn breathed dreamily and smiled.

The capital lay sprawled out in awe-inspiring glory as the morning sun slowly began its ascent into the heavens. The street lamps that glowed with iridescent oranges and yellows in the darkness gradually vanished in the early morning light as the city's caretakers extinguished the flames that burned within wrought iron and glass lanterns. The magnificent spires of the Saint Tosca Cathedral marked the cityscape in the distance, casting a stately silhouette against the orange sky of dawn while the steam clock located in the middle of Victory Square announced the passing of the hour with a series of tinny chimes.

The No.12 Edensa-Porre pulled into Battle Cross Station at five in the morning when the shadows of night still lingered across the metropolis, but were in slow retreat from the advancing rays of daybreak that washed over the urbanized landscape. The locomotive docked alongside the marble platform of the terminal, wheels screeching to a tired halt and hissing billows of steam surrounding the train like a cloud. Aside from the occasional sleepy soldier on patrol, the station was deserted and devoid of life.

The door of Passenger Car No. 7 slowly creaked open and a mop of blond hair emerged from beyond the aperture followed by an alert pair of cobalt eyes. Glenn furrowed his brow and quietly hopped out of the coach, landing on the white marble surface of the platform with a soft thud. He scanned the surroundings for guards and having spotted no one, he reached for Leena's hand and helped her off the car. Placing his index finger to his lips in a gesture for silence, Glenn pointed to an alcove near the ticket office and motioned toward it. Like a pair of skulking thieves, they quietly made their way to the shadowed recesses, pressing their backs against the cold, hard surface of the wall when shelter was achieved.

A lone army private, whistling an unidentifiable tune, appeared from around the corner of the office, strolling past the alcove and meandering toward Passenger Car No.7, the brass buttons of his gaiters shimmering in the dim lantern lights. He crossed his hands around his back, causing the rifle that was slung over his narrow shoulders to slip off and fall to the ground with a clatter. The soldier swore, picked up the firearm and continued on his patrol, relieved that the weapon had not discharged from the tumble.

Once the guard had disappeared around the corner, Glenn and Leena reemerged and sprinted to the station entrance, from where they vanished into the silent streets of the still-slumbering capital.

The soldier turned around, thinking that he had heard a flurry of footsteps pitter-pattering toward the gates. He paused and strained his ears, but the sound had been swallowed up by the darkness. "Or perhaps it never was there to begin with," he thought. The soldier shrugged and continued his patrol. Soon his shift would be over and he was looking forward to the bed that awaited him back at the barracks.

Leena took a large bite out of the peach with great delight and wiped away the juice that dribbled down her chin as she chewed. Glenn gave the fruit merchant two copper coins and selected a pear from a large crate, buffing the gleaming golden-yellow skin on his tunic. The vendor thanked him and smiled as the both of them wandered off into the distance.

"Erm…Glenn," Leena began nervously, "the thing that happened back at the train…"

"Yes?"

"Well…I'm sorry if I stepped out of line. I was simply—"

"Following your heart?" Glenn smiled softly.

"Yes," she replied, "but if you're not…interested, or sure that—"

He gently took her by the hand squeezed lightly. "I was sure since the first day we met."

"Honestly?"

He laughed gaily. "I swear on my honor."

Leena leaned over and kissed him lightly on the nose, drawing from him a complacent grin. "What now?" she asked.

Glenn pulled out the bloodied meat packing paper from his pocket and carefully opened it. "We'll need to locate 2414 Andower Street and speak with Mr. Farben."

Twenty-four fourteen Andower turned out to be a small shoe repair shop tucked in-between a cheese merchant and a leathersmith. The building was a recently renovated Revival Era townhouse that, despite its age, still possessed the intricate stone etchings that gave architecture of that period its distinct flavor. Underneath a large green awning a small wooden sign proclaiming the name of the store as "Farben & Co. Shoe Mending" rattled to and fro in the light breeze. The interior was shrouded in darkness, though a small placard placed against one of the beveled glass windows announced the store's readiness for clientele.

Glenn depressed the handle and gave the door a slight push, causing it to open with an elongated creak. He cautiously stepped inside and gave his eyes time to adjust to the light conditions within. Leena followed close behind and quietly shut the door. The floorboards groaned under their feet as they tread along a small pathway that led to the interior of the establishment.

"Mr. Farben?" Glenn called out. When he received no reply he instinctively reached for the Einlanzer, his right hand clasped around the hilt.

"What's the matter?" Leena whispered as she saw Glenn reach into his cloak.

"Something's wrong with this picture."

"Maybe he's not here yet?"

"No, he's here. If he wasn't he would not have left the door open and the 'We're Open for Business' sign would not be displayed." Glenn felt a shiver crawl up his spine as he neared the entrance to a room at the opposite end of the shop. A soft light from the other side of the barrier glowed outward from beneath the door, but when he put his ear to the wooden surface he heard not so much as a stir.

"Go on and open the door," Leena suggested, "maybe he's taking a nap."

The brass knob twisted clockwise in Glenn's hand and there was a small click. The hinges swung open and light flooded out from the workshop. The room was filled with tools of all shapes and sizes along with what appeared to be a few dozen pairs of shoes, neatly stacked on a series of brown shelves that lined the walls. A small man stood in the corner of the room, hunched over a bench upon which lay a dull pair of jackboots.

"Mr. Farben?" Glenn said.

The figure stood motionless and reticent.

"Mr. Farben?" Glenn pulled out the butcher's silver ring and walked toward the workbench. "We've been sent to you by a friend in Odissa in hopes that you may be able to aid us."

"Arrest the spies!" a voice suddenly cried out.

Glenn and Leena whirled around and watched as a group of armed soldiers rushed in with their rifles raised. Glenn quickly pocketed the ring and raised his arms in surrender.

An officer dressed in a black uniform, peaked cap, and riding boots stepped into the room and grinned smugly. He strolled over to Farben and gingerly picked at specks of dust on his shoulder. He suddenly gave him a small push and Farben collapsed, the metallic rod that rigidly held him upright falling to the ground with a loud clang.

Leena shrieked in shock as the corpse rolled onto its back, displaying a vicious, jagged cut across its throat. The front of Farben's vest was stained with a large splotch of blood and a vast pool of congealing crimson fluid collected on the workbench.

"He's quite dead, as you can see," the officer said and he nudged the corpse with the toe of his boot. "A traitor in life, but a loyal subject in death." He chuckled. "Without Mr. Farben's help we wouldn't have had the pleasure of meeting each other."

The black clad soldier casually strolled over to Glenn and ran a gloved finger along his face, tracing the contours of the scar that marked his cheek. "Such a handsome young man," the officer sneered and threw the woolen fabric of Glenn's cloak aside to reveal the Einlanzer. He removed the blade from its sheath and examined the Dragon Sword carefully.

Glenn stifled his anger and glared irately at the Porre officer.

"A marvelous apparatus of exceedingly fine craftsmanship," the officer said. "It will be a pleasure indeed to behead you with your own weapon." He handed the sword to one of the soldiers and returned his gaze to Glenn and Leena. "But we'll reserve the fun activities for another day. For now, know that you're under arrest for treason against the Republic and that you are in custody of the Eighth Bureau Internal Security Force No. 10." He paused to contemplate. "I'd read you your rights, but rebels and terrorists don't have any. Take them away."

* * * *

The site lay in smoldering ruins and the bodies of soldiers and workmen lay strewn upon the blackened earth. Fires raged against the evening sky and plumes of choking black smoke wreathed upward like a giant serpent. On the surface of the encampment dark, ethereal forms darted between burning tents and shattered crates, eerie yellow eyes keenly observing the destruction that had taken place. The cries of the dying and wounded had long been silenced as the Shadow Cats flittered from body to body, devouring the souls that served as their nourishment.

A lone figure stood outside a striped white and blue tent that, despite the devastation that had taken place, was intact. At its feet a portly man in tattered uniform groveled for leniency. The figure raised his arm and the man levitated, hovering in the air like a large and bloated dirigible.

"Mercy, Doctor!" Major Jugle pleaded. "Have mercy!"

"Mercy," Doctor Whally said slowly, drawing out each syllable in a sinister, hissing tone. "Mercy will come from servitude and servitude will come in death." He flipped his wrist and Jugle's body exploded in an eruption of meat, blood, and organs, leaving only a bloody skeleton that dangled in midair like a grotesque string-puppet among broken mounds of flesh.

Two Shadow Cats materialized from the ground next to Jugle's bones and began to twist themselves around the remains, snake-like and with hypnotic rhythm, until the darkness had seemingly melded with bone and a vaguely humanoid shape emerged. Enshrouded in a cloak of shadows and engulfed in a wraithlike sapphire glow, the creature that floated in front of Whally bowed as a slave to a Master.

"Your will, Malevolent One?" it rasped.

The grin on Doctor Whally's face stretched to the point that his lips split and blood began to stream down his chin. His eyes, bloodshot and bulging obscenely from the sockets, began to pulse and glow an ominous red.

"The City of Time," Whally said, "Home. We will go home."

* * * *

Violet eyes slowly began to focus, the blurry images that stifled visual acuity gradually giving way to normal sight. His hand reached up to his face, sweeping aside sweaty strands of lavender hair that clung to his cheeks. He attempted to sit up, but at once an intense rush of pain laced through his body, nearly causing him to black out from the sensation. He gasped and prayed silently for death to consume him and put him out of misery.

"He's awake," a distant voice said, "and apparently stable."

"Good," said another. "I'll let General Crumm know. In the meantime, give him some spirits to dull whatever pain he may be in. Check on him periodically and make sure he doesn't lapse into a coma because, damn it, I won't be the one to answer to the General for his demise."

Unable to stay awake and indeed, unwilling to do so, he shut his eyes again and slipped into a deep, fitful slumber.