“This is not encouraging,” Goldarrow said. “They have us either way. Let them fly, and they drop their exploding weapons; shoot them down, and the weapon explodes where they fall.”

  Grimwarden didn’t reply directly. He pulled the telescope away from his eye. “Why only three?”

  “Three? What do you mean?” Goldarrow reached for the glass.

  Grimwarden explained, “Dhrex said the whole army would engage us. Where are the rest of them?”

  “Perhaps Dhrex’s warning was premature,” Goldarrow said, still searching the sky.

  “Perhaps,” replied Grimwarden. “Though he was convincing enough.”

  “I mean, I don’t doubt there are those who still harbor bitterness toward Elven kind,” she mused. “But maybe he overestimated the situation.”

  “Perhaps,” Grimwarden said again.

  Goldarrow lowered the glass and looked at him. “What is it with you and perhaps?” Grimwarden raised his eyebrows. “Must you always fear the worst of situations?”

  “It is my job to expect the worst,” said Grimwarden.

  “Perhaps that’s why you’ve never asked me to go to dinner.”

  Grimwarden paused. “What?”

  Goldarrow raised the telescope back to her eye. “Always fearing what will go wrong instead of what will go right.”

  Grimwarden worked his mouth as if to say something but couldn’t find words. Only a woman could think of such things during a potential invasion. He shrugged, glad she wasn’t looking at him anymore.

  “Guardmaster,” came a messenger below.

  “Yes,” Goldarrow and Grimwarden both replied. The messenger looked confused.

  “Sorry. Goldarrow,” Grimwarden deferred to her with a nod.

  “Yes, flet soldier,” she replied. “What’s the news?”

  “Descriptions of the invaders, Guardmaster. And a message from one of them on the throes of death.”

  “A message?” asked a curious Grimwarden.

  “Well, don’t keep us hanging, son,” said Goldarrow. “What is it?”

  “All three were very young, nearly twenty years I’d wager.” The flet soldier cleared his throat for the next bit. “And he whispered something before slipping into unconsciousness. This is just the beginning, he said.”

  Grimwarden and Goldarrow looked at one another, then Grimwarden nodded to her and looked back to the messenger. “Assemble the Fletmarshalls. Fifteen minutes.”

  “For the unforeseeable future, I’m extending my Guardmaster privileges of leadership to include Grimwarden,” announced Goldarrow to the room full of Fletmarshalls. “You will hereafter refer to him according to his previous title until the time that the Lords of Berinfell negate my actions, should they so desire. Understood?”

  The Fletmarshalls clapped in acknowledgement of the move and then quieted down as Grimwardem stepped forward. He nodded to Goldarrow, then mouthed the words thank you.

  “It’s an honor to be among you again, lads and lasses,” Grimwarden declared to his band of Fletmarshalls. “As always, I count it a rare privilege to lead you.

  “While our intelligence is unconfirmed on this, we need to plan for the worst: an attack by the Nemic, echoing what we saw here tonight. As such, I want the fire wall raised to maximum height. All rampart crossbows need to be re-calibrated for extreme elevations. And pull out every bolo-net we have. I don’t care if we use the ones for fishing; let those Nemic smell like the rotting carcasses of the sea for all I care. But we’ll take every single one of them out of the sky, and I don’t want any more terrain bombs landing on our city. Any questions?”

  “I thought you said we’d have more time than this,” said one Fletmarshall. “Before, you mentioned nine days.”

  “According to our intelligence, we did,” replied Grimwarden. “But it seems that time table may have moved up considerably. And I won’t treat this potential threat idly. I’d rather we take every precaution possible only to find out it was a lie, than not prepare and find out we were wrong. Anyone else?”

  The Commanders shook their heads in quiet agreement.

  “Guardmaster Grimwarden,” said Thorkber. “In particular is there, anything for which the Gnomes you’d desire doing?”

  Grimwarden smiled at the ever-eager, child-like face of Migmar’s Chief Soldier and Second in Command. “Well, that depends, Thorkber. Is there anything the Gnomes would prefer to oversee?”

  Thorkber’s eyes lit up. “Indeed, indeed!”

  “Then I shall trust you to your cause. Anything else?” Grimwarden searched their faces until he was satisfied. “To your stations,” he said. The command room emptied until only Goldarrow remained beside him. They shared a moment of silence, then walked back down a corridor leading outside, presenting a stone stairwell that led to ramparts overlooking the city to the south.

  “So what do you think that first attack was about?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” said Grimwarden. “The reports were as you heard. Teen warriors. Not more than twenty years. Overzealous, I assume. That, and poor discretion.”

  “Which fits with the Nemic disposition,” Goldarrow agreed. “But to preempt the entire Nemic army?”

  “I know,” said Grimwarden. “It’s either something meant to distract us…or benefit us.”

  “Benefit us?”

  “I pray Ellos himself stirred up those headstrong fliers to set upon our fair city at such an hour. For it’s He I’m thanking that we were not awakened by a much larger force—a fate I fear we’d never have survived. Perhaps these impatient youths’ premature strike forced the rest of their brethren to come at us unprepared.”

  “At least one could hope,” agreed Goldarrow.

  The two of them stood there, looking out over the city that was quickly preparing for war. Darkness spread over Berinfell like a blanket, kept at bay by thousands of torches that indicated embattlements under construction. The air was crisp, and night-sounds filled the forest surrounding the city. That’s when Goldarrow noticed something.

  “Wait,” she withdrew her spyglass and held it to her eye. “THERE THEY ARE!” She thrust the telescope toward Grimwarden.

  The Guardmaster took an icy calm breath and put the glass to his eye. Something wavered near the starry horizon. It seemed at first like a heat mirage, an undulation in his entire field of vision. He scanned the telescope left and right, trying to gain a reference point for the distortion. Then, at last, he understood what Goldarrow saw. And it was no mirage.

  The horizon, the entire horizon, was alive with Nemic fliers. Thousands upon thousands of them, enough to raze Berinfell to the ground. He slowly lowered the glass and turned to Goldarrow. “I fear Dhrex may have underestimated Ghrell’s intentions,” the Guardmaster said, a faint thinning in his voice. “The Nemic don’t mean to attack us. They mean to annihilate us.”

  31: A Knock at the Door

  AUSTIN AND HAZEL HAD JUST sat down for dinner. Hazel’s twelve-hour rump roast had been tantalizing Austin his whole day off. Instead of playing golf, he decided to stay home—forcing himself not to turn on the TV—to take care of a few projects around the house for Hazel. The reward: she was making his favorite roast. But it was torture, especially with Hazel’s strict no-tasting policy.

  He tried sneaking a fork full of the tender meat at least twice, but his wife had the uncanny ability to catch him in the act.

  “Elwood Austin Peruses Green,” she called out, using his entire given name, “just what do you think you’re doing?”

  Austin looked up, a small mound of tender meat nearly to his opened mouth. “Uh…I was…making sure you properly spiced this roast.”

  “I see. And may I ask you if I’ve ever improperly spiced my roasts?” Hazel’s hands were planted firmly on her hips.

  Either way, Austin was caught. No meant he had no reason to doubt her abilities this time; yes meant he wouldn’t be having any dinner tonight. He knew better. Austin acquiesced and handed his wife the fork.

  “Good boy,” she said with a love pat on his rear. “Remember now, good things come to those who wait.”

  “Oh, don’t I know it,” Austin replied gloomily.

  “But don’t forget the second part,” she said. “Those who don’t wait get a pile of crackers on the back stoop.”

  But now, the threats were behind, and the waiting was over. The lights were low, and the lid was finally—blessedly—off the pot. Austin thanked the Lord for the food, and for the sudden turn of events that had brought their lives back to normal. Almost.

  Hazel dished out a steaming chunk of beef, covering it with vegetables and gravy. He was inches from his first bite when the doorbell rang.

  “For crying out loud,” Austin grumbled.

  “I’ll get it, dear.”

  “No, no,” he said, reluctantly placing his fork on his plate. “I’m sure it will just take a second.”

  Austin folded his cloth napkin and pushed his chair out. He weaved through the dining room, around the corner of the kitchen, through a hallway and then into the main entry hall. He glanced at his watch to double check the assertion he’d be making to this unexpected guest that they were calling on the Green Home far too late in the evening. 7:38pm. Well, at least too late for his tastes.

  He opened the door.

  “May I help you…?” he began to ask, his tongue and lips mumbling the final words.

  Six figures stood on the front stoop. Their garb resembled a strangely executed Halloween costume mixture of the Three Musketeers, The Matrix and The Lord of the Rings. Which was especially strange considering the group looked to be in their early twenties.

  “Sorry, wrong month, wrong house,” Austin said, rolling his eyes as he swung the door closed.

  One of the young men caught the door with his hand. “Mr. Green?”

  Austin looked up, not as surprised that some strange kid knew his name but that this upstart had the audacity to prevent him from closing his own door. “Best take your hand off the door, son.”

  “I’m sorry, but I wouldn’t be so forward unless—”

  “Unless you had no respect for my family. Step away.”

  “Austin,” came Hazel’s voice from behind, “what’s going on?”

  “These kids were just leaving,” Austin said, trying to push the door shut against the intruders again.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Green,” the young man pleaded, “we’re friends of Jett’s and we need to talk with you.” Tommy had rehearsed the opening line a dozen times, but it still came out wrong. Mr. Green glanced up at them, his face a conflicted mix of anger and pain.

  Hazel took a few steps forward. Placing a hand on Austin’s shoulder, she looked at Tommy and said, “That’s awfully kind of you, dears, but we’re just sitting down for dinner. Would you mind making an appointment with Austin’s agent, and we’ll be happy to meet you—”

  “Mrs. Austin,” Kat stepped forward. “It’s of utmost importance we speak with you right now. It will only take a few minutes, and I really think you need to know what we have to say.” All of them, including Kat, knew that much was a lie: it might take a lot longer than a few minutes.

  Hazel looked up at Austin, her eyes silently coercing him.

  “You have five,” Austin said.

  The Six sat around the oblong living room with Mrs. Green in a leather couch chair and Mr. Green sitting on the arm. Tommy shared a couch with Kat and Johnny; Jimmy, Autumn and Kiri Lee stood next to the arm. All three rocked on their heels.

  Tommy wasn’t sure how to begin, but Mr. Green’s impatient eyes forced him to start talking.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Green, I know this is going to sound extremely strange, but I’d ask that you give me just a few minutes to explain without interruption. Then you can ask as many questions as you want, I promise.”

  “Well, you have four minutes left young man,” Mr. Green replied, glaring at his wristwatch.

  “Austin,” Mrs. Green rebuked her husband gently. “Please…let him speak.”

  “I’m trying to,” Mr. Green said with his upturned hand toward Tommy.

  Tommy decided to cut right to the chase. “We’re not from Earth.”

  The mood in the room instantly shifted. Mr. Green’s hard face didn’t change much, but Mrs. Green’s went flat.

  At least they weren’t laughing, Tommy thought. “We’re from a world called Allyra. All of us,” Tommy gestured to the rest of the group on the couches. “We were abducted from that world when we were babies and adopted by families here on Earth. But eventually we were taken back to Allyra when we were each about thirteen.”

  Kat looked to Tommy. “They’re taking it surprisingly well,” she told him. “Almost like it’s not the first time they’ve heard this.”

  Tommy wondered if this would be easier than he thought. “Mr. and Mrs. Green,” Tommy continued, “your son, Jett, was one of us.” He paused, searching their faces. The Greens hardly blinked, but refrained form interrupting as he’d asked. Tommy plowed forward. “Once in Allyra, all seven of us were reinstalled into the roles for which we were born so many years ago: to be the ruling Lords of Berinfell, a race of Elves meant to serve, protect and lead the whole of Allyra. But it was in that pursuit…of protecting our people…that your son perished.”

  Kiri Lee stood up and interrupted. “Your son saved my life,” she said.

  Kat put her hand on Tommy’s shoulder. “Let her tell it,” she told him. Tommy nodded. “Go on, Kiri,” prompted Kat.

  Kiri Lee’s eyes already glistened as she began the story. “We were fighting the sworn enemy of Allyra, a mutated murderer called the Spider King. But I was captured and then poisoned…it was a mortal wound. I was moments from death.” Kiri Lee shuddered, the emotions of that moment flooding her memory. Tears welled up in her eyes, and a lump caught in her throat. “Jett—” she swallowed. “Your son saved me.”

  Kiri Lee cleared her throat and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “Each of us, the Elven Lords, have gifts,” she said, gesturing. “Jett, he had two gifts: superhuman strength and healing. He could heal himself. He could heal…anyone he wanted.” She looked down. “And in that moment, he decided to heal me. But it cost him…”

  Kiri Lee could hardly finish the sentence. Tears flowed freely. Telling Jett’s parents in person what had had happened played out far differently than she’d imagined. How many times had she rehearsed the words and phrases? How many times had she envisioned Jett’s parents and how they might react? But now, really here, really saying it…well, words were harder, the well-practiced lines caught on hooks in her throat.

  “It cost him his life,” she finally got out. “He traded his life for mine.” Kiri Lee looked hard into Austin and Hazel’s eyes. “I was healed, and the poison killed him.”

  The Greens bore expressive masks, mixtures of deep-seeded grief and utter confusion.

  “Jett is a hero to all of us,” Tommy continued. “And he was our friend. We wanted you to know what happened to him, but…there’s more, there’s another reason we came to you.”

  Tommy couldn’t remain on the couch. He stood up and moved to the side of the room where a large picture window overlooked their side yard. “The Spider King is dead, but from his ruin, another enemy rose. He is a creature called Asp, and he has raised an insurmountable army that, even now, threatens our world and Earth. We are here to stop him, but we discovered that Asp, for reasons we do not yet know, is watching you.”

  Mr. Green made to speak, but Hazel squeezed his shoulder, then looked back to Tommy. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Please continue—what did you say your name was?”

  “Tommy.”

  “Please continue, Tommy.”

  Tommy ran a hand through his hair. Blank expressions now, Tommy thought. Hard to read, but they seemed to be taking all this rather well. “Anyways, we need to get you to safety,” he said, “at least for the time being. I know it all sounds crazy, I’m sure. But that’s the long and short of it.”

  Austin and Hazel looked at each other, both with hesitant smiles. The Lords weren’t sure what they were expecting as a reaction, but this wasn’t it. Secretly, Tommy figured, they’d either freak out and require some fantastical display of the Lords’ otherworldly powers to convince them otherwise, or they’d freak out and call the police.

  But there was no freaking out going on here.

  “Thank you for coming,” Mrs. Green said. “All of you. We truly appreciate it.” She looked to her husband.

  “It took a lot of courage to share all that with us,” said Mr. Green, “and who knows what you went through to even get here.”

  “Excuse me, excuse me,” Kat stood and waved her hands. “You mean to tell me this doesn’t sound crazy to you?”

  “Kat,” Autumn cautioned her friend.

  “No, no,” Mrs. Green said, gesturing to Autumn, “it’s okay, dear. I understand.”

  “You do,” said Kat doubtfully.

  “In fact, we believe most all of your story,” said Mr. Green.

  “You believe most…wait, wait, really?” Kat was incredulous. She turned to Tommy, to Autumn, to the others. “I’m having a hard time with this.” She was flicking her hands in the air like a runner warming up for a sprint.

  Kat! Tommy called through his thoughts. Get a hold of yourself. You’re doing enough freaking out for everyone.

  Kat didn’t reply. She simply stood their gaping like a fish out of water.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Green,” said Kiri Lee, “did Jett’s Sentinel—the one assigned to protect him—talk with you?”

  “Mr. Spero,” Mrs. Green said, nodding fondly. “He did indeed.”

  “We freaked out on him at first,” said Mr. Green.

  “See! Right there,” said Kat. “They freaked out. I knew they would.”

  Ignoring Kat with a tentative smile, Mr. Green continued. “But after those Dredded things broke into our house and tried to kill us, we knew it was real. All of it.”

 

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