The Silver Sphere by Michael Dadich

them, "Where is Canter's patrol? They are
a fortnight late."
    "Sorry, Cap'n, things look bad. Zumbaki have turned up out
there," one of the men reported.
    Spiro hissed and spat on the ground. "Zumbaki? Painted tribesmen.
They shouldn't even be on this side of the forest!" He sighed and rubbed the
bridge of his crooked nose, which looked as if it had been broken in the past. "I
intend to retire for forty winks. Be sure to alert Clayborn of anything suspicious.
Be wary in the field. Malefic and his troops could be close," he cautioned
as he marched to a small tent.
    Nick stared at the fire, licking his dry lips as his stomach
rumbled. His back ached and his feet throbbed.
    After some time passed, two men came running down the hill, glistening
with sweat. They wore lightweight armor and carried fewer weapons than the others.
    "Canter, you should signal us with flares," Clayborn
declared as he rushed to meet them.
    Canter panted, barely able to speak. "The f-flares... l-lost.
W-we're lucky to make it back. We ran into a pack of Zumbaki. We lost Landon and
Maniker."
    "Bloody savages," Clayborn muttered.
    Nick's head spun as he struggled to follow their dialogue. He
didn't know how he'd arrived in this nightmarish land, but he would have to adapt
quickly if he wanted to survive.

 
    Shelby decided Sculptor wasn't so bad after all. On the journey
back to their division, Sculptor briefed her and Mr. Dempsey on their predicament,
while Barrick rode ahead of them to scout for trouble.
    The shrubbery around them burst in odd colors. Bushes blazed
bright blue and teal next to flowers flaring yellow blossoms with violet leaves.
    "Shouldn't be too bad," Barrick proclaimed from ahead.
"We're on the southern side of the forest. No Zumbaki around here, and Malefic's
patrols haven't been sighted. Over the eastern fringe, near the Cark Woods, I wouldn't
be caught without an entire division."
    "Um, what are Zumbaki?" Shelby asked.
    He called back, "Savage tribesmen, cannibals who roam the
Cark."
    Sculptor sighed. "Ah, poor Vilaborg and Casselton. They
had a Kin to fetch in the Cark Woods. I do hope they're all right."
    "No better pair than that one to be in the Cark," Barrick
said. "Borgy grew up there, and don't forget, both have intercepted before.
I spoke to some Tuskarians who told me the Cark is infested with evil souls and
vile monsters."
    "You can't control where that portal of yours opens up,
can you?" asked Mr. Dempsey.
    Sculptor nodded. "Alas, although the device is efficient
and transports our subjects safely, we cannot harness the powers needed to provide
a specific location. The mentors bestow the coordinates where we can open the mobile
portal. If an area doesn't consist of the proper nutrients and energies in the air,
this may harm our passengers. We'd love the ability to utilize the portal with an
entire brigade present, but the entry cannot operate with more than one or two living
beings in the area. Hence our duty as interceptors. Do not fear. We aren't far from
camp. We'll meet with our division in less than an hour."
    "Let us ride now in silence while I find a safe spot to
take a break," said Barrick.
    Shelby stretched one of her legs. Both of her knees were growing
stiff and sore from sitting so long in the hard leather saddle. Riding was new to
her. She had imagined as a little girl how one day she might own a horse, but she'd
never ridden one.
    Barrick slowed down and dismounted. He waved a glowing compass
along the perimeter, and then sniffed at the air for some time.
    "The Tuskarian race is part ogre," Sculptor whispered.
"They can smell a cigar a few miles away."
    "We're close to the others now. We'll be safer when we join
them," Barrick said as he returned to his mount. He grabbed something from
his satchel and passed it back. "You must be hungry."
    Shelby accepted the offering from Barrick and examined a hard
strip. She sniffed it and debated taking a bite, as a growl from her stomach reminded
her how famished she