28. Jack
TWENTY-EIGHT
JACK
Jack felt like he was going to throw up. His head was swimming. He had no idea where he was. He struggled to stand, but his head was hammering like a blacksmith was using his skull as an anvil. Jack reached a shaky hand to the right side of his head and it came back bloody.
As he was wondering how badly he was hurt, the events of the past few hours came back to him at once: the locomotive attack, the sandstorm, he and his father being thrown from the steam bicycle. His father!
Jack turned in every direction, searching the forest floor for his dad.
His eyes found a slumped body under a mass of broken branches.
Jack ran to his father’s side and gently rolled him over.
His father’s chest was still moving. Jack gently shook him.
The bandage around Marcus’ head was intact; no sign of blood soaked through the dressing.
He’s okay. He’s breathing. He didn’t land on his head, Jack reassured himself.
“Dad, Dad, can you hear me?”
“Okay, next time, I’m operating the machine.” Marcus’ eyes fluttered open.
Jack let out a huge sigh, slowly helping his father to his feet.
“Are you okay? Anything broken?”
“No, no, I think the old man is going to make it this time around.” Marcus looked down at himself as he dusted off the layers of sand. “You? You’re bleeding.”
“I know, it’s nothing. We have to find Sloan and Aareth and make sure our transportation is still working.”
Before Marcus could protest, there was rustling in the dark forest to their left. Jack drew his wand in one smooth motion. Marcus lifted the two parts of his staff from his back. He snapped them together in the space of a breath.
“Wow, take it easy, killers.” Aareth walked into the clearing with arms raised. “It’s just Sloan and me.”
“Glad to see you two made it.” Jack gave Aareth a sly grin. “I thought Sloan might use the sandstorm for cover, you know, finally take you out of the picture for good.”
“It was tempting.” The corner of Sloan’s mouth twitched in an awkward attempt at a smile.
“So what’s our next move, Captain?” Jack asked.
“Well, you need to stop spraying blood everywhere. Then we find the machines, make sure they’re still working, and make camp for the night. It’s too dark to travel now. Tomorrow, we’ll find the road, and if I’m anywhere near right, we should be in Burrow Den in time for dinner.”
Jack’s wound was nothing more than a shallow two-inch laceration across his scalp. His father had him patched up in no time. Sloan and Aareth wheeled in both of the mage-powered machines.
The one Jack and Marcus had ridden was dented in a few spots and the front headlight was cracked, but still in running condition. Sloan and Aareth’s was in better shape; still, sand leaked from the machine out of every nook and cranny.
Camp was made in the same small clearing Jack found his father lying in. Dinner was a simple meal of cheese, dried meat, and biscuits. Jack ate like a starving man. To him, the meal was just as satisfying as the feast he was treated to in the Queen’s palace.
It was as the four unlikely members of the Queen’s emissary were preparing for sleep Jack voiced the question that was on all their minds. “So what are we expecting tomorrow when we reach Burrow Den? Do they know we’re coming?”
“The Queen sent a messenger to tell them aid was on the way.” Sloan stared into the fire, voicing the words with no real weight behind them.
“Can we be sure the messenger made it all the way to Burrow Den after our little encounter on the locomotive?” Aareth sat beside the captain, toying with his gauntlets. “Could Burrow Den be an ambush?”
“No. I don’t think so, but who knows,” Marcus chimed in as he threw another log on the fire and settled into a seated sleeping position. “There’s no point speculating on what could be or may happen. We just need to be prepared for anything.”
There was a mutter of agreement as Sloan and Aareth took solace in the sorcerer’s words and settled in for the night.
Jack turned onto his back; however, sleep was anywhere but close that night. The forest was dark. Shadows twisted and morphed into sinister beings against the forest background.
Jack would have been scared if he hadn’t grown up as a tracking sorcerer his entire life.
He heard noises deep inside the forest’s interior, but each noise he could place: birds rustling, owls hooting, rabbits galloping down paths.
He couldn’t be sure when he drifted to sleep, but it wasn’t long before he was awakened by an unfamiliar sound, a noise that didn’t belong to the forest at all.
He was lying on his side facing the fire that was now reduced to a pile of smoking embers and ash. Morning wasn’t far off. For now, the moon remained fixed in the sky. A cool dew touched the soft grass. As Jack was waking from his sleep, wondering what the noise had been, he heard it again.
There was something large moving in the forest. He couldn’t pinpoint the exact area, but he knew it was big and it was trying to move quietly.
Jack’s eyes were wide. He slowly reached down to his side and gripped the cold steel wand.
Sloan and Aareth were both motionless, eyes closed, oblivious to the danger around them.
His father’s eyes were as wide as his own.
Jack saw his father looking at him, and without moving his head, motioned with his eyes from Jack to a section of the forest where a large bush swayed. Normally, a bush swaying could easily be written off as the wind, except tonight, there was no wind.
Jack looked back to his father and tilted his head half an inch.
Marcus’ hand was on his staff, tensed and ready.
Everything was still except for Jack’s heart.
He could feel it racing faster than either the locomotive or the mage-powered bicycles.
He forced himself to take slow breaths. His eyes remained glued on the bush that rustled and swayed.