Chapter 61

Joel stopped suddenly, his head snapped around, and he seemed to hear something. To me, the forest was silent. Not silent, exactly—the sounds of a forest, but there was nothing there to alarm me. Nothing, barring the incredibly dangerous, possibly half-mad man who stood before me. He drew his hood back up and touched the side of his head. A visor slid from the recesses of the hood to cover his eyes. He turned his head slightly and cursed under his breath.

Of course, I thought, a knight such as he could possess relics that enhanced or fed the senses. I remembered how the Griidsuit had made me feel so alive, how grey and silent and lamely lacking in stimuli the world was without it.

Joel backed away slightly. "I have to go. Return here when you can; I'll try and talk to you again."

I tried to stall him. I wasn't unhappy that he was departing, but for all the dread he filled me with, the unease, he was about to answer the question that had plagued me since those whispers first started in my head. "Joel, what is the voice?"

He was backing away silently, his gaze locked at a point through the trees. I heard it then—the faint thrashing of underbrush. Horses were approaching.

Joel said, "We don't have time for that right now. Just believe me, it's not to be trusted. It wants you, Tiberius, not just for what you can do but because of what it can use you for."

He turned to flee, then paused and turned back. He hissed, "And for god's sake, Tiberius, whatever you do, don't let it know that we spoke."

Then he was gone. I blinked, confused. It was as if he had taken a single step into another realm of existence and vanished. I thought I heard a creak of a branch on his path—thought, only—and then he was certainly gone.

I stood there, a mix of relief and frustration washing over me as the sounds of approaching horses grew louder. The underbrush continued to thrash around me, signaling a powerful force was combing through the woods—Boston's elite fighting force.

Two knights emerged. In the shade of the trees, their power weapons were more obvious. The glow of an axe spread from the hand of one of the knights. A ghostly halo surrounded the sword of the other. The men let their horses pick their way through the undergrowth towards us.

The axeman barked, "What are you doing out here, boy?"

I stammered, "I was—I was practicing my techniques... I was, uh, meditating..."

The sword-wielder leaned forward. He eyed me, then Zeb. I saw his eyebrows go up as he recognized us. It was me that he seemed to know first, but Zeb that took his attention.

He said, "That's one of the contestants, the merchant's son. The one the common folk are making such a fuss about."

The first knight nodded slowly. He, too, seemed to soften his tone as he became aware of the terrible bodyguard who stood beside me.

He said, "Oh, Tiberius, is it? What are you doing out here, young fella?"

"I was practicing my techniques," I repeated. "I was meditating, preparing for tomorrow."

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Zeb spoke. His voice was even. There was no obvious aggression there. But something about the flatness of his voice seemed to alarm the two newcomers. He said, "The boy is busy. What's your business?"

The sword knight asked, "Did you see anyone out here?"

I hesitated. Why was I about to lie? Zeb just waited. He would take his cues from me.

I said, "No, I haven't seen anyone, apart from you sirs. I wouldn't expect to; that's why I came out here, for the peace."

The sword knight nodded, "Best clear on out of here. There's a wanted man been seen entering the woods around here, and you won't want to come upon him."

"A fugitive?" I asked. I tried to sound surprised. I couldn't read any reaction to my attempt at acting on Zeb's face.

The axeman said, "Huh, worse than that. A wild knight known for inciting trouble, a bloody dangerous man at that."

"Does he have a name?" I inquired.

The swordsman started to answer, but the axeman interrupted him. He said, "What are you doing? We're not here to chat with commoners; we've got a quarry to be after."

The axeman pulled his horses reigns and moved off into the brush.

The swordsman paused for a moment. I wasn't sure why he delayed. Then he said, "Good luck tomorrow, lad. I've got a fair purse wagered on you." Then he was gone, too.

I watched them disappear into the woods. I could see them for a long time, high on their horses, above the low lying vegetation.

As they faded from sight, I turned to Zeb. I said, "That... that was..."

Zeb spoke with his usual impassivity, but his words were serious. "That was fucking dangerous. I've never seen one man with so much power at his fingertips. Well, except for a Griidlord."

I said, "Would there have been anything you could have done if he'd..."

Zeb nodded, slowly. His eyes were distant but his face betrayed no emotion. He said, "Aye. I could have died, lad. And I would have died. Have no doubt about that. I let that monster do his talkin' cause there was nothing I could have done there except spook the bastard and get us both murdered. But if he'd have killed you, he's have done with my blood on his sword."

I said, "What purpose would that serve?"

Zeb said, "There are men of purpose in this world, Ti, lad. And there are men of honor. In my experience, rarely do the two meet. I'm a man on honor, if little fucking else, and I'd have died before I let him get to you."

I beleived him.

Zeb rarely spoke this much. It was odd. He had been around me so long and so much that I felt like I knew him. But as he started to speak again, I realized this might have amounted already to the longest conversation we ever had. He said, "That shit the fucker was talkin' about. Voices in the suit, and to trust 'em or not trust ém-"

I cut in, "I can explain, that's just-"

But he held up a hand, his brows furrow, a dismissive expression. "The shit about the voices, that's your business. That's the business of Griidlords and all the daft magic of the oracle. It's nothing to do with me. I owe your father, and I'm bound to serve. I serve by keeping two legs and two arms and a head all attached to your body, right where they are. That's all of it. I won't be tellin' him none of this. It's between you and him if you decide to tell him."

I was taken aback by all of it. His discretion, his devotion to my safety. I was also, quite honestly, a bit overwhelmed to have heard him speak so much. I wanted to probe further, to see what else he might say.

Zeb had other ideas. He said, "We going now?"

I said, "Uh... y-yes, I guess we are."

Then, vintage Zeb, he just nodded and glided away from me, scouting the path ahead.

I looked around the woods one last time. Had my hours lost in trance been worth anything? Could I trust the blasted voice? Could I trust a madman fugitive more than the voice that helped me so much and so far?

Joel was gone. Part of me wished he could be back, to finish his sentence, to tell me what the voice was.

Part of me never wanted to see him, his dangerous power, or his glints of madness ever again.

But that was not to be.