Chapter 11

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When Rusty caught sight of what was coming down the road toward them, the layers of disbelief, piling themselves one after another on his already wretched mind, seemed to reach a breaking point. It didn't help that he was looking at the retinue from ground level. And sideways, at that.

"Holy hector," he said... and remembered that it was one of his mom's favorite sayings. It was also milder than the phrase he wanted to use.

What came into view, past the large tree at the corner of the garden (which appeared to have eyes on its leaves?), was a trio of armor-clad men on what he first thought were horses. To begin with, the armor the men wore, complete with face-obscuring helmets, triggered yet another memory: a medieval show that his dad used to stream on Saturday afternoons. Champions of Athens, it was called. And it was crap. Still, these guys on horses and the armor they wore were dead-ringers, and Rusty crazily wondered for a moment whether they were out-of-work extras.

He tried to sit up, and the considerably hot girl – Sonic, she said her name was? – held out one hand. He took it, mindful of the fact that he was, once again, holding a girl's hand. A ridiculously good-looking girl, at that.

"One who can read minds," Sonic said sharply as he got to his feet.

"Sorry," Rusty said, not really that sorry at all. "Who the heck are these guys?"

There were more coming up behind, maybe another half-dozen or so, the rumbling of hooves slowing as they arrived. Now that Rusty was upright, he got a good look at who exactly these new arrivals were. And, more importantly, what, exactly, they were riding.

He thought they were on horses, and could be forgiven for the error. The creatures they rode were four-legged, muscular beasts that stood higher than their riders, and were generally horse-shaped. But the pale-colored heads of these creatures were perfectly tubular, maybe two or three feet in length, ending in an open, toothless orifice from which a stubby pink tongue lolled. Rusty was reminded of open ends of the storm guttering that was tacked to the outside walls of his house. The creatures had eyes, too, but these waved curiously about on stalks close to where their heavy necks met their cylindrical heads.

"And just what the heck are those?" he asked. It was a question aimed at no-one in particular.

"Wouldn't have a clue," Sonic answered. "And I'm actually quite used to aliens and strange creatures and such. These things be weee-ird."

"Right," Rusty said, because it was all he could say. He once more felt strength beginning to drain from his legs, but held tight. Somehow, standing next to Sonic was giving him energy. Well, the energy not to faint like an idiot, anyhow.

The three medieval men at the front dismounted from their tube-headed horse things, and now Rusty did pay attention to the men, because they all suddenly appeared to be carrying spears of some sort. Long ones that ended in a glowing blue fire. How he could have missed that, he did not know. They weren't carrying them as they approached.

"They materialized them as they got off their whatever-the-heck-those-things-are," Sonic said. "Gives me some hope."

"Huh?" Rusty said. It was more of a half-grunt than a question. Sonic's ability to reply to something he'd only been thinking was disorienting to say the least.

"If I'm not wrong, I'll be able to pull off a trick or two," Sonic said. She looked over at Dresden, who stood in the center of the garden with Mohon at his side, motionless apart from his hands, which were clenching and unclenching. This Sonic noted with some concern; the boy was nervous.

There were eight guards at the gate, all dismounted, all but one with glowing spears in their hands. They held their weapons upright, a sign (Sonic hoped) that they intended no harm, only a show of force, perhaps. The armor worn by the spear-carriers was a gaudy silver that practically gleamed in the light. In the Line-light, Sonic thought, and resisted the urge to once again look up at the beautiful nightmare above them. The eighth and last guard, who was not carrying a burning spear, moved purposefully to the front of the group. This guard was iridescent, his armor a shimmering yellow-gold from his helmet down to the plated shinguards on his legs.

"Sire Faramay, we are here at your father's request," the yellow-gold one said.

Dresden remained silent. Mohon woofed once, as if to tell the guard, I told you he wasn't being himself.

The yellow-gold guard took off his helmet, revealing a completely bald and scarred head that had clearly seen many battles in its lifetime. The man's head was particularly shiny because he was sweating. "I see you have company."

"They are guests of the Hep, General Weylin," Dresden said firmly. "They are welcome here. I welcome them here, in the name of my mother and father."

The man, General Weylin, smirked, and looked briefly at the ground as though in modesty. It was a feint, and Sonic wasn't sure Dresden would recognize it as such. "Sire Faramay," the General said, "I think it's best your father welcome the outsiders himself, wouldn't you agree? This is, after all, his domain."

"And I am his son," Dresden replied, and now it was Sonic's turn to smile. The kid might have something in him, she thought. "I have a right to present my guests to him myself, General."

The General nodded. "As you please. We are happy to escort you and your guests to your father."

"Why didn't my father come himself?" Dresden asked. He still hadn't moved.

The General shrugged. "Occupied," he said. "Besides, the Queen's katarn advised that one of your guests is formidable." He pointed one armor-gloved finger at Sonic. "The girl, he said. Quite dangerous, he said."

Dresden looked down at Mohon, who walked backward a little. "No. Danger," Mohon said, and his green tongue flicked out nervously. His meaning was clear, though: I didn't say she was dangerous!

"We'll talk about this later," Dresden said to the creature. To the General at the gate, he continued: "They are guests, General. My guests. They are free to come and go as they please, and if they refuse to come with me, then you will do nothing about it. Is that clear?"

"Yes, yes, of course, Sire Faramay," the General replied, and he gave the young man a hard smile. "Your father has, however, requested their presence, and it would be rude not to introduce them to the Lord of these lands."

Sonic walked up to Dresden and put her hand on his shoulder. As she did this, the guards at the gate became more alert, the ones at the front taking their fiery spears into both hands. The General tensed, eyes firmly on her.

"Dresden, escort your guests to your father," Sonic said quietly. "We not refuse to come with you."

"I'm not sure you have much choice, Sonic," Dresden said. "These are Hepsguard Elite. If my father sent General Weylin here, he's... worried. Worried about who you might be."

Sonic didn't yet have the vocabulary to ask the questions she wanted to ask: Why send a General here with heavy guards? Why was there a fear of outsiders? Something was wrong, and it was bigger than just having them turn up.

"Rusty," she called, without turning her head. She wanted to keep the guards and their General in her sights.

"What the heck is going on? Who are those guys?" Rusty asked. He was rooted to the spot. In the meantime, the frog-dog thing had moved closer to him, and he didn't know which was the bigger worry – that the frog-dog was real, or that he was losing his mind. Let alone that the gold man and his entourage didn't appear to be very friendly. So much for TV extras, he thought miserably.

"Police, I think," Sonic said, then reconsidered. "Nah, worse. These guys are soldiers. Big guy in the yellow get-up is a General, or something. They want us to go with them." She glanced at his unshod feet. "Which means we're gonna need to get you some footwear, mi amigo. Dang it."

"Where're we going?"

"Meet Tropritesdit's dad. He's señor del reino, apparently."

"Whose dad? What?"

Sonic dropped her hand off Dresden's shoulder, then went back to the confused Australian teenager. "Okay, you're gonna have to get with the language program here, amigo. Repeat after me – Tropritesdit."

Rusty took a breath. Was this actually happening? "Drastron," he said. At least, that's what tropritesdit sounded like. It sure as heck wasn't English.

"Again," Sonic said. "Troprit-esdit."

"Dresden," Rusty said.

At this, Dresden turned around, surprised. "Did the outsider just say my name?"

"The outsider just say your name, Dresden," Sonic said.

"Drasdon," Rusty repeated. "Drasden. Drosdan. Dresden!"

"Yes, good," Sonic said, "now shut up. I'll teach you more on the way."

"On the way?"

Sonic sighed. Sure, Rusty was – how did the Bible put it? – a stranger in a strange land, but maybe he'd also banged his head along the way to this place. Or he was just dense. She decided she'd go with the 'stranger in a strange land' angle. "'Call him, that ye may eat bread'," she said out loud. "Just hope these guys wanna hand us bread and not a jail cell, or something."

"Bread? Where are we going?" Rusty said, visibly distraught. "I want to know what's going on!"

Sonic grabbed his face with both hands. "Look at me, Rusty. Look at me!"

Rusty's eyes met hers. Eventually. The ground was a very interesting place to him right now. But once he looked into her deep green, focused eyes, he felt a composure come over him that was almost unnatural.

"It is unnatural," Sonic said. "I'm hypnotizing you, mi amigo. You'll be okay, comprendes? Let's do this."

"Let's do this," he repeated. His legs felt warm and fuzzy, but not strengthless this time. He knew he could remain standing – heck, looking into those beautiful eyes, he felt like he could do anything.

Job done, Sonic though, and grabbed his hand. The mental switches had been thrown gently enough to keep Rusty from going completely bananas for a short time.

"Dresdong!" Rusty shouted suddenly. "Dresdan! Dresden!"

Mohon scampered over to Dresden at the outburst, woofing nervously and baring his overly-sharp teeth at Rusty.

"Alright, amigo, you're doing well," Sonic said ruefully. Sometimes hypnosis had unpredictable side effects. She squeezed Rusty's hand gently, and felt him calm down a little.

Then she turned to Dresden and asked the question that had been bothering her this whole time. "Where is the Custodian?"

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