Chapter 9 Breach Protocol
Chapter nine
Breach Protocol
The next morning, they rode into a bustling city beneath Stone Mountain.
Citizens streamed in from outlying homes and farms, walking or riding bicycles, horses, or motorcycles.
New buildings blended with the old, their lack of ruin filling Lark with awe.
Color bloomed on all sides. Hooves clomped, hammers rang, saws whirred, motorbikes rumbled—life in motion.
“It’s …” Milena breathed, spinning slowly as she took it all in. Flowers bloomed, trees shaded yards and walkways, and men and women in blue police uniforms patrolled the streets wearing smiles along with badges.
There were no towering high-rises like in books, but some buildings rose five or six stories— “The Grand Regency Hotel,” “Nelanta Textiles, Incorporated.” A large painted sign read, “See the Dinotorium. Jurassic fun for kids of all ages!” It had a painting of an odd-looking hog with a plate and three horns on its head.
Following the street whose sign read “Main,” they rode into a market area, an open-air square with carts of crafts and produce like at home, surrounded by wooden or brick-front stores inviting serious customers to come inside.
“Prunes!” shouted a bald man standing behind a cart with a red and yellow striped tent cover. “Paulie’s prunes. Doctor and Grandma approved!”
“Baskets!” called the broad woman across from him. “Get your handcrafted baskets here. Great for carrying your eggs, veggies, and sundries. I’ve even got baby carriers for your little ones. Don’t drop your babies, moms—get a basket to keep them safe.”
“Hold it there!” one called in a stern voice.
A boy tried to run, but the policeman snatched his arm.
“There’ll be no pickpocketing in Nelanta, young man.
You give that nice lady her wallet back, and maybe I’ll let you off easy.
” The lad hung his head, presenting the pilfered wallet to its surprised owner.
“Look at all the things,” Leif marveled. Sliding out of his saddle, he bounded forward to a vendor selling knives, swords, tools, and various metal items.
“Now, I’d bet a young man like you could use a fine blade, ain’t that right, sonny?” The gray-haired man grinned, displaying a missing tooth.
Lark sighed, dismounted, and handed Milena the reins. She marched beside her brother and nudged him out of the way. “Can you tell us where to find the Capitol Building?”
“Sure thing, little lady,” he offered with a hospitable smile.
Pointing north, he said, “Keep goin’ past the central market about four blocks.
When you get to a corner with a big, pre-war church building and a bar across the street from it—funny how these things happen—you take a left on Capitol Street and keep going.
It takes you to a roundabout at the Thalen Frost Memorial.
All the government buildin’s are right there.
Can’t miss the Capitol. It don’t have one of them fancy domes, but it’s the biggest one, with the seal and the flag flyin’ from a tall pole. Hey, you folks must be visitors.”
“Yes, sir,” Lark replied. “Thank you kindly, and have a good day.”
“But Lark.” Leif tugged on her arm. “I’ve got time to buy a new knife.”
“Time? What about money?”
“I’ve got ten Verdancian notes, I’ll have you know, and a gold sovereign.” He jutted up his chin, defiance in his gaze. “Didn’t know that, did ya?”
Lark rolled her eyes. “Do what you want. We’re going to see the queen, get what we came for.
If you aren’t ready to go on our way out, you can find your own way home.
” She turned on her heel before he could reply.
Sure, Lark would have enjoyed shopping in the sea of carts and stands, exploring the outfitter store, the five and dime, or the Bed Bath & Beyond.
She had money too, and her grandfather’s pocket watch.
Gramma had assured her it was extremely valuable, worth hundreds of Verdancian notes.
She was ready to trade it all for antibiotics.
Taking her reins and saddle horn, she threw her leg over the black gelding, glancing at Milena. “I know where to go.”
“Thank heavens,” she sighed, her tense shoulders relaxing. “Nelanta just spreads on and on in all directions.”
“It helps that we came in on Main Street, I think. It’s this way.” She motioned straight ahead.
“What about Leif?”
“I’m coming,” he grumbled, trotting up behind them on a glossy chestnut mare.
Following the vendor’s directions, they easily found the lovely spot at the end of a row of grand old houses that had survived the bombs, storms, lootings, and raids, still standing as testaments to a bygone era.
Flowering magnolias and sprawling live oaks, wider than her outstretched arms, lent charm and a sense of permanence to the place, as did the resilient rock known as Stone Mountain, the largest such chunk of granite in the world.
Lark couldn’t see the fabled relief of Civil War soldiers carved into one side from this vantage point, but she’d seen a photograph in one of Mr. Hayes’ old books.
She could see the life-size stone sculpture erected in the circle of what used to be a cul-de-sac.
On a grassy knoll behind a two-foot stone wall, surrounded by meticulously nurtured red and white rose bushes, stood the image of Queen Frost’s brother—the man who would have been king had he not died in battle.
He appeared to be around Lark’s age, posed heroically with one boot on a stone and a heavy military rifle in his hands.
“Thalen Frost, Crown Prince of Verdancia, 2077-2099,” Leif read from the bronze plaque. “In duty, valor. In death, legacy.”
“He was Queen Frost’s brother,” Milena said in reverence. “I was just a baby when he died.”
Lark thought, Me too, as she studied the noble representation of the war hero.
“I wasn’t even born yet,” Leif added.
Spotting a hitching post, Lark and the others dismounted and tied off their horses. “I guess they’ll be safe,” she said. “There are soldiers around, guarding the place.”
“Should be.” Leif shrugged.
Milena looked nervous. Worried. Scared. Lark moved around her tethered horse to her friend’s side and whispered, “Are you OK?”
She took Lark’s hands, interlaced their fingers, and peered at her in trepidation. “Butterflies the size of bats. What if they say no?”
Lark’s gaze bore into Milena’s, and she squeezed her hands. “I won’t let them turn us down. Don’t worry about anything. I’ve got this, honey.”
Releasing her hands, Milena wrapped her arms around Lark in a fierce hug. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
“I thought we were in a hurry,” Leif grumbled. Lark and Milena eased apart, amused and slightly embarrassed. “I think that’s the right building.” He pointed to a brick mansion with white columns and broad concrete steps. Two men in uniforms stood guard.
“All right. Let’s do this,” Lark declared.
She led the way past the memorial, across the roundabout, and up the steps to the expansive covered porch.
The flag gently waving displayed a yellow-gold tree of life atop a sword and laurel on a sea of deep green.
The round seal affixed over the entrance mirrored the flag and bore the motto, “From Root, Resilience.” Though the grandeur of the place might daunt a backwoods girl, Lark wore confidence like a shield, determination like a sword.
“We’re here to see the queen,” she stated, raising her chin as if she were somebody important. The guards glanced at her like she was an insect.
“Queen Frost isn’t entertaining subjects today,” answered a brown-bearded, burly man holding a pike. Lark noticed the holstered pistol on his belt and wondered if it held bullets or was just for show.
With Leif on her left and Milena on her right, both on the step below her, Lark squared her shoulders. “I’m not here to be entertained. We’re from Saltmarsh Reach and need medical supplies. We haven’t had a shipment in years, and it’s our turn.”
“Sorry, ma’am.” The second soldier stepped in front of the tall oak door. “Supplies are low and reserved for military use. Queen’s orders.”
“Our dad is in the army.” Leif stepped up beside Lark, a plea in his voice. “Sergeant Roy Sutter, stationed at Marchland.”
“That’s admirable, son,” answered the big fellow with the beard. “But we still can’t give out medicine to you all. Some merchants in town sell folk remedies, cannabis. Maybe you could try—”
“No.” Lark felt the first pangs of panic grip her chest like a vise.
This couldn’t be happening. They couldn’t have come all this way for nothing.
“We’ve tried all the folk remedies, all the herbs and treatments.
The Reach was attacked by a gang of raiders with mutants mixed in, and our friend was bitten.
He’s got a terrible fever and needs antibiotics, or he’ll die. ”
The leaner man blocking her path shook his head. “No such thing. Mutants don’t work with people. You’re making that up.”
“I’m not making it up!” Lark’s temper flared, hands curling into fists at her sides. Her bow and quiver were back on her saddle. She had an old knife strapped to her leg—but she wasn’t about to pull it on two Verdancian soldiers. Still, she had to get past these buffoons.
“I know it sounds crazy,” Milena said, “but it’s true.
They mounted a joint assault, and over a dozen residents were injured, two killed.
Please.” Her hands clasped together in front of her as if in prayer.
“Please. Let us present our case to Queen Frost—I know she’ll help.
I don’t want my fiancé to die. He was helping protect us all, just like Prince Thalen all those years ago. The queen will understand.”
“Hey, miss, I’m sorry about your man,” the bearded guard replied, pity softening his tone. “Getting mutant bit is a nasty way to go, but I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do. Maybe you should be lookin’ for a minister instead.”