An Army of Good (13 page)

Zavier donned his robe, then he, Pelagia, Aurora, Dan, Harry and the Warriors walked into the beach house, victorious. But instead of being met by cheers of welcoming celebration, they were met by a mournful room, filled with despair. Mary clung to Grace, desperately trying to maintain a barrier around them both. Mrs Potts cradled Christian, who was crying hysterically, and Evan was frantically trying to stop Christian's dad, Kyle, from climbing out of the broken window in pursuit of the Nomed that had taken his wife.

The wolf pack led by Takoda charged past Zavier on their way out of the house. “They have Christian's mother!” Takoda growled.

The wolves leapt over the veranda onto the beach and raced across the sand in pursuit of the offending Nomed, their hackles raised and teeth bared, ready to fight.

Zavier spun around and watched the ferocious and angry wolves charging toward the woodland, but he didn't change back into his horse form, he didn't run or attempt to help them, he could see that it was too late. The juvenile Nomeds were already in the treetops, travelling between the branches, and they were hauling Sharna's limp and lifeless body with them.

Zavier did his best to console Kyle and Christian, but it wasn't enough. How could it be?

“We're going home!” Kyle asserted, grabbing Christian's hand and dragging the sobbing boy through the mass of creatures.

Aaron stood in the doorway, his hulking frame blocking their exit.

“Wait, please wait!” Zavier pleaded, grabbing at Kyle's shoulder. “You can't go. It's much too dangerous. You will never make it through the woods alive.”

“Well, we're not exactly safe here, are we?” Kyle snapped. Then he glared up at Aaron. “Let me pass! I want to return home to my wife!”

Aaron stood fast.

“Your wife isn't at home. Only her clone is,” Zavier explained.

“I don't care. I just need to be back at home with her!” Kyle screamed.

Ice flew onto Zavier's shoulder and spoke to Kyle softly. “I'm afraid she'll be gone too. You see, when Sharna died here, so did her clone. In the Human world, the clone will have passed away suddenly and unexpectedly, allowing Sharna's friends and family in your world to grieve as needed.”

Kyle crumpled to the floor, hugging his son, the two of them desperately clinging to each other as they drowned in an overpowering wave of sorrow.

Zavier found it hard to breathe, hard to swallow. His eyes hurt intensely as a huge pressure built up from the tears that were forming behind them, tears he had to fight very hard to keep from spilling over. He heard the pitiful cries of others as they joined in Kyle and Christian's grief. He thought of Caspian, Jazbeck, Brock, Jael, Hippo, Handro, Ayanna, Yas and now Sharna, and he wondered,
how many more innocents will have to die?

No longer able to hold back the tears, he pushed Aaron aside, exited the beach house and made his way down the wooden steps. When he reached the warm sand of the beach, he threw off his robe and transformed. Then, with his head held low, his ears flat and tail down, he sorrowfully headed toward the meadow.

Zavier couldn't even lift his head, it was so heavily weighed down with thoughts of sorrow and disappointment.

“You knew this wasn't going to be easy, Zavier. There were always going to be fatalities, and there will most certainly be more to come. But you are a strong leader. All of Liberty respects you. You have the ability to lead us to victory. Now, lift your head. Hold it high. Return to those that are good, and prepare them well, for now they need you more than ever, the worst is yet to come,” whispered the Prophet.

Zavier slipped out of the tree, gently pushing through the Prophet's draping branches. He lifted his head high and, with a loud and determined neigh, he galloped back to the beach house, where the good creatures were awaiting his return… awaiting his guidance.

* * *

The juvenile Nomeds returned to their king with Yas's and Sharna's corpses. They also brought back the remains of the Nomeds that Dan and Aurora had killed, not because they wanted to return them to the swamp out of respect, but because to them they were just another food source, a meal for the infant soldiers that were writhing and growing within the swamp's mud.

“Siht si a taerg tnemeveihca. Uoy evah enod llew ym sreidlos. Htiw ruoy ylwen nesir niks elba ot dnats eht tlas ria, ew nac ecno niaga kool rof eht traeH fo dloG. Won tsaef, rof noos uoy lliw og kcab ot eht hcaeb htiw rociN, dna nehw uoy nruter ot eht pmaws, uoy lliw nruter htiw owt straeh. Eno that si edam fo dlog dna eno taht sniatnoc eht doolb fo a dlohtreB,”
Balam spat, ripping an arm from Sharna's carcass and biting into it with savagery.

The Nomeds feasted well. Blood from their meal merged with the swamp mud, energising it, expanding its darkness further and further into Bluebell Wood. And as the malevolence of the swamp grew, so did Balam's evil plan. Today, they would feast and breed, creating many more resilient soldiers in preparation for the next attack on the beach. An attack led by Nicor, who had orders to return to his king with two hearts, one that was made of gold and one that was to be ripped beating from the chest of a Berthold.

A soft cloud breezed over the sun, providing those that were training on the beach with momentary relief from its searing heat. Zavier shuddered in the shadow of the cloud. Not because the brief chill in the air blowing over his sweat-covered body had caused him to shiver, but because he could sense the fear that Lorenzo was presenting. The leaf man was standing on a rock at the top of the path. He looked older than he'd ever looked before. His leaf was browned, crinkled, crisp and brittle.

“What on earth's happened to you, Lorenzo?” Zavier asked anxiously.

Lorenzo looked up at Zavier sorrowfully, his dry eyes unable to cry.

“I think I'm dying,” he declared.

“No… why?” Zavier asked, sombrely.

“I think it has something to do with the Nomeds' increasing power. The swamp is spreading at a greater rate; its malignant darkness is consuming more and more of the woodland. The younger, fitter Kith haven't been affected, but us old ones are starting to perish. Old Mother Chanterelle of the Mushroom Kith sadly passed away this morning.

“I'm sorry to hear that,” Zavier sympathised. “Listen, I want you to take yourself and your Kith as far away from the swamp as possible.”

“No… never! I'll never leave the woodland, Zavier!” Lorenzo argued, clenching his fists so tight that tiny pieces of dried leaf crumpled in his palms.

“I'm not asking you to leave your home. You're safe from attack. The Nomeds don't know of your existence. But the expansion of the swamp is obviously killing the woodland… killing you! I want you to take your Kith, and get as far away from the swamp as possible. Save yourselves before it's too late.”

“I won't run away, Zavier, I'm going to defend my home. Fight for it.”

“I think you should do as you're told!” a voice yelled from above.

Zavier and Lorenzo looked up to see Leah leaping from a tree branch. She tucked her leaf in close to her body and swooped down at speed, then, just before touching down on the rock beside Lorenzo, she opened her leaf to soften her landing.

“What are you doing here?” Lorenzo scolded.

“Look at the state of you, for goodness' sake, you're disintegrating! I was hardly going to let you come alone, now, was I?” Leah asserted, placing her young green leaf around Lorenzo's brown, crumpled one, in order to protect him from the sun. “Don't worry, Zavier, I'll make sure he does as you ask,” she said with a smile.

“Lorenzo, please don't get me wrong. I'm not asking you to give up without a fight, I am asking that you do what is best for yourself and your Kith. You need to regain your strength. Let us fight on your behalf. Training is going really well. We are on the final push now, and we'll soon be ready to drive the Nomeds back into the darkness where they belong.”

Lorenzo opened his mouth to answer Zavier, to argue his cause, but Leah firmly clamped her hand over it, preventing any words from parting his chapped lips.

“Yes, we will do as you ask, Zavier,” she said, hooking an arm through Lorenzo's and leading him into the woods, the poor decaying leaf man too weak to resist.

Zavier made his way back across the beach, and Leah helped Lorenzo through the shrubbery.

“Get off me, child. Respect your elders. I cannot believe that you agreed to leave without putting up a fight!” Lorenzo grumbled, while attempting to pull his arm free from Leah.

“Lorenzo, I thought you knew me better than that! Of course we're not leaving! When have I ever done as I'm told?”

“Good point.” Lorenzo nodded.

Leah re-hooked her arm into Lorenzo's and led him through the woods to an area that was lush with woodland geranium. “No, no, no. We aren't leaving, but it's best that Zavier thinks that we are. He has enough to contend with at the moment, without worrying about us Kith, and so I have a plan. But first we need to get you better, Lorenzo.” She grinned.

Leah tipped Lorenzo back, laying him down amongst the geraniums. He lay there amidst the thick green foliage, gazing up at the beautiful mixture of mauve and blue flowers as they danced sporadically through sunlit openings above him. The geraniums began to twist, wringing their stems and leaves until magical drops of moisturising and healing fluid dripped from them, showering the old leaf man that lay below. Petals began falling, covering his body, sealing in the plant's nutritious moisture that now coated him. He was instantly refreshed, re-energised. He stood himself up, brushed off the petals and stretched out his leaf, revealing a new sparkling green surface. Then, with an emerald twinkle in his eye, he turned to Leah. “How did you know about this?” he asked thankfully.

“Well, the adventures that I go on – you know, the ones that I'm always getting into trouble for – they aren't just to annoy you and the other elders, they are journeys of discovery. And this, old man, this is one of my discoveries,” she said, arms outstretched as she twirled in a sunbeam beneath the swaying flowers.

Zavier made his way through the humming crowds on the beach. Then he stood still a while amidst the activity. He felt frozen in time, as if he were paused within a movie while action scenes played out in slow motion all around him. He watched with a strangely numbing pride as he admired the advanced efficiency of those in training. He was so very proud of them all. They had pushed aside their grief and their differences to come together, forming a strong and powerful army, an army that stood a very good chance of victory against the Nomeds.

He heard the muffled roar of the Meh-Teh, and he watched as Dan and Aurora launched themselves at a barrier that Mary had placed around both her and Grace. He smiled as the Meh-Teh collided with the invisible shield, Mary and Grace remaining unharmed inside its protective walls. He even chuckled a little as Elsie back-flipped her way through the crowd to reach Poppy Paul, who was in need of a healing enchantment after dislocating his knee, an injury that he'd acquired as a result of wrestling with Aaron during a self-defence lesson.

He admired Christian's stealth as the young boy weaved his way through the crowd, picking out unsuspecting victims and paralysing them at will. And he couldn't help but notice Harry, his head towering high above the crowds, assessing the whole situation, choosing a target worthy of receiving his power orb's energy. The blue glowing orb of water shot through the air with accuracy, impacting Pelagia right in the middle of his forehead. The Commander threw back his head, his waves of hair rolling powerfully around his laughing face. Then Pelagia held out his hands, palm to palm, and instead of producing just one orb, two balls of swirling blue water appeared in each of his hands. Zavier looked on joyfully as Pelagia and his Warriors roared with laughter and the commander began to juggle with the orbs of water.

Zavier's awe-like state was broken by a gentle pitter-pattering atop his head, a feeling that he was more than familiar with. He held his hand up beside his head and Chester hopped onto his finger.

“Well, my little friend, I'd say we're ready, wouldn't you?”

“As ready as we'll ever be,” Chester chirped, fluffing out his chest feathers and spreading his wings in agreement.

“Tomorrow, during the day we will rest up, eat well, plan and prepare, and then in the evening, my friend, we will begin to fight for the good of Liberty… we will go to war!”

That evening was a little cool. Grace and Christian were snuggled together on the sofa, enchanted by the spitting and crackling of the fire in the hearth. Most of the fairies were dancing within its swaying flames, except for Ember. She had joined Shannon up in the rafters where they looked down upon the cosy children. Shannon was sat astride a snowflake butterfly close to where Ember was hovering.

Shannon directed the butterfly away from Ember. “I don't mean to be rude, but I'm beginning to melt a little,” she said, wiping wet from her eye as her melting icicle hair dripped onto her face. “I'll have to get back to the other elves and butterflies soon, so that I can share some of their body coldness.”

“Sorry, Shannon, I sometimes forget how hot I am,” Ember grinned, flattening her fizzing hair and holding her flaming arms close to her body in an attempt to dampen the heat.

“No worries. Anyway, like I said, just because we're small doesn't mean that we're weak, and besides, there are many of us. We have great team support and we, of all creatures, should know that there is strength in numbers.”

“Yes Shannon, you're right. I don't know why I began to doubt our usefulness. I'm sure we'll all play a very important part in winning this war.”

Shannon wiped another drip from her brow with her tiny hand.

“I think you'd better get back to your elves now, before you start to evaporate,” Ember said.

“I think you're right. Thanks for the chat, we'll talk again tomorrow,” Shannon said, then she fluttered away upon her butterfly to find somewhere cooler.

Ember stayed hovering within the rafters and looked down upon Grace and Christian. The friends were still snuggling on the sofa below.

“Zavier said we're ready to fight the Nomeds now, but I don't feel ready, do you?” Grace asked Christian.

Christian sat upright and looked Grace straight in the eye. “I'm ready!” he asserted, then slumped back into the sofa. “I've been a wuss for too long now and look where it's got me. Well, I'm not going to be scared any more, and I won't see anyone else I love get hurt. I'd rather die myself than go through that pain again.”

Grace could see that Christian was thinking about his mum, as he swallowed hard and his eyes sparkled with the beginnings of tears.

“I'm not going to let anyone that I love get hurt, either, and that includes you, Christian Gregory,” Grace proclaimed, squeezing him and kissing his cheek.

Christian's face reddened with embarrassment. He was eight years old and the only people that he'd ever said the ‘L' word to were his mum, dad and grandparents. But it was there and then, in that moment, that he realised he and Grace weren't just best friends, they were much more than that, and he discovered that he loved her too.

Ember smiled at them both, then she whizzed down from the rafters to join the rest of the fairies in the fire.

Christian looked into the fire's flickering flames. “Phew, it's getting really warm in here, isn't it,” he said, trying to excuse his flushed complexion. “I think I'll go outside for some fresh air.”

“Oh, okay. I'll stay in here. I want to talk to Mum and Dad, anyway. See how they're feeling about going to war tomorrow,” Grace replied.

* * *

Christian ran along the pier, its wood creaking below his bare feet. When he reached the end, he sat himself down and paddled his toes in the calm water. He soon spotted Mateo's glistening body swimming towards him through the starfish-lit waters. The dolphin's head popped up beside his feet. Mateo read Christian's mind and started clicking and squeaking excitedly.

“What are you so happy about?” Christian asked, looking at the dolphin's smiling face. Mateo was always smiling, but this time his grin was accompanied by a cheeky look in his eyes.

Mateo began swimming backwards, still facing Christian, his head nodding up and down as if he were laughing. Then he began singing. “Grace and Christian sitting on the settee K-I-S-S-I-N-G.”

“Oh, shut up, you idiot!” Chris laughed, kicking water in Mateo's face and then, despite the chilly evening, he stood up and jumped into the brightly dappled ocean, bombing Mateo. The exuberant pair splashed and laughed for ages and for then, at least, Christian was a child again. He had momentarily forgotten the grief of losing his mother and the growing fear of fighting against the Nomeds, and he enjoyed every second of it.