“How many are left?” Soli asked, closing one of the many little wooden draws.

  Donal counted the number of draws whose nameplates had yet to be covered. “About twelve… yes, twelve.”

  Soli was already on to the next drawer, beetle in hand. She gently lifted the hard fore-wings with her thumb. With the other hand, she pinched off a piece of moss from the outgoing compartment of the drawer. She wrapped it around a small, folded paper note. Then she slipped the mossy package into a tiny sheath between the beetle’s wings. She ensured that some of the moss poked out in contact with the insect’s abdomen. Finally, Soli placed the beetle into the outgoing compartment of the open draw. It amazed Soli every time she did this. The beetle shot straight out of the back of the draw and through a short system of pipes leading to the outside. It was gone even before she had closed the draw. The influence of the moss on the beetles was incredible. They would not stop until they reached moss with the same cocktail of aromas. And there was only one place to find it: with the guard whose name was on the plate on the front of the draw. Soli slid the cover across the nameplate and moved onto the next drawer.

  The door to the mail room came close to flying off its hinges as Schoner burst in. “These are the very last of the flares,” he said, holding a bunch of four wooden tubes aloft. “Are you ready?”

  “We’ve only a few left to go, sir,” said Soli, without looking up. She and Donal were working their way through the drawers as fast as they could.

  “How many are left?” asked Schoner.

  Donal slid a draw closed. “Eight, sir.”

  The colonel furrowed his brow. “That’ll do,” he said.

  “But the others won’t —” Soli attempted.

  “So a couple of messages might go unread. Anyway, there’s enough of us out there that word will get around to switch to flares.” There was a distinct bitterness to the colonel’s words. “Take these.” He passed the flares to the two cadets. As they strapped them to their waists, Schoner paced back and forth.

  “What will be our area of operation?” asked Soli.

  “Head for the coast west of town. Start at Firelime Bay and do a half-day sweep before making your way back inland,” said Schoner. “If you get into difficulty, other groups are searching just to the north and east of there. You’re the last cadets to be sent out, so you’ll likely be on your way back before you get too far. With any luck.”

  “Sir, why are we being sent out?” asked Soli.

  “You don’t want to go? You want to sit in the mail room while the rest of the cadets do the proper work?” Soli had never seen the colonel so stressed.

  “No, sir. It’s just so unusual. You said the rest of the cadets - are we all being deployed?”

  The colonel sighed. “Even Gluck, if you can believe it.” He straightened up. “Flares secure?”

  The cadets nodded.

  “What about the Citadel, sir? The palace?” asked Donal.

  “Don’t you worry about them. Just concentrate on the job at hand.”

  “But they’ll be left unguarded,” said Soli.

  “The citadel, yes. The king has his personal guard. He will be safe enough. That’s all that matters.”

  “It makes no sense,” said Donal.

  “Are you questioning your orders?” Schoner looked like he might explode.

  “No, sir.”

  Schoner ran a hand over his face. “What makes no sense is leaving the protection of this place to the cadets. We’re better off with no-one standing guard. The young ones are so inexperienced they need constant supervision. Anyone supervising would be neglecting their duties. It’s been a nightmare. And the king is impatient. He’s threatening the top brass. They’re demanding to know why the search hasn’t been successful. We need to find that fugitive quick-smart, get things back to normal. Understand?”

  “Yes, sir,” Soli and Donal answered in unison.

  “If you find this kid, use your flares. You have everything you need?”

  Together again, “Yes sir.”

  “Alright then. You have your orders.”

  ***

  The sun was nudging the horizon as Soli and Donal first approached Firelime Bay. They had been walking for most of the night. Aside from an hour that they had divided up for thirty minutes of sleep while the other took watch. The route they had taken was cross-country - Donal’s idea. Few people travelled the more direct trails to Firelime Bay. But they may still have been too risky a proposition for someone on the run.

  “I would avoid trails completely in their shoes,” he reasoned.

  “Think about how to avoid capture often?” Soli asked with a wry smile.

  “Amongst other things. I have an active imagination. My mum says that I could be a world-class writer —”

  Soli spat out a laugh. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Go on.”

  Donal’s face glowed, and he let the conversation die.

  Soli swallowed the laughter and composed herself. The two of them walked in silence for a while.

  “So, you write stories?” Soli said, attempting to atone for her careless outburst.

  “Don’t. I thought you might be different to the guys,” replied Donal.

  “I am. Oh god, I hope I am. I wasn’t laughing at that. I think it’s great. Honestly.”

  “Why’d you laugh, then?” asked Donal.

  “I mean… Your mum says?” Soli bit her lip to suppress another fist of laughter.

  “Ok.” A smile spread across Donal’s face. “Ok.”

  “Did she also say you looked the most handsome in your uniform?” said Soli in a soft, mocking voice.

  Donal held his chin high. He would not let her mockery get to him. Then, from the corner of his mouth, a smirk formed.

  “She did, actually.”

  The two cadets laughed together.

  “Aah, mummy’s little soldier,” said Soli.

  “Less of the little, thank you,” said Donal, straightening his back.

  “I apologise. Of course, you are a strapping young man. The very model of a modern royal guard.”

  “I’m glad you think so.” Donal puffed out his chest, and his stride lengthened.

  “I think it only polite that you repay my compliment in kind, don’t you,” said Soli.

  Donal stumbled and shrank back down to cadet size. “Oh, yes… Er… I really like… I just really admire what you are doing.”

  “What I’m doing? Being a cadet?”

  “You’re not, though. Not just a cadet. You know?”

  “I don’t want to be patronised.” Soli’s look soured.

  “No. God no. That didn’t come out right. It’s the way you deal with…” he searched for the right words, “…the extra pressures put on you. I mean, it’s not the same for you, is it?” Donal couldn't bring himself to look Soli in the eyes.

  “No, it isn’t. But I don’t want to be seen as any different to you guys. Yes, I face certain… obstacles, but they are mine to overcome. I don’t need anyone’s help.”

  “Of course. I wasn’t implying —” Donal said, stumbling again.

  “I’m a royal cadet. I will be a royal guard. It’s that simple.”

  “Yes. Fantastic! Sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry.”

  “I’m just not that good at expressing myself.”

  “Doesn’t sound like someone who has what it takes to be a world-class writer.” Soli playfully shoved Donal.

  “I’m really starting to appreciate why they barricaded your door.”

  “Shut up.”

  Firelime bay stretched for about a mile. A long wisp of white sand sandwiched between the sea and a rocky hinterland. Windswept groupings of trees and thick gorse bushes dotted it on the inland side.

  Soli and Donal emerged from between one such group of trees onto a track. It ran parallel to the beach, but set back a few metres.

  “Where do you want to start?” said Donal. “Beach, track, or back there? It’d be rough going, what with the rocks and such, but we’re more likely…” he paused. Soli didn’t appear to be listening. Instead, she was staring at something over his shoulder. He turned to see two people a few hundred yards along the track. Their clothing was black, head to foot. They were staring straight at Soli and Donal.

  “I think we should go and talk to them,” said Soli.

  “After you.”

  As they approached the people in black, Soli called out, “Hello there. We are royal cadets. Can we talk to you?”

  The nearest figure bowed their head in agreement.

  They could now see the figures' clothes in more detail. Each wore a long black tunic and black veil, underneath which was a white under veil. They had the look of nuns. Yet, beneath the veils, they wore wooden masks. These were expressionless, with simple features. Deep eye holes hid the eyes in shadow.

  “We are looking for a fugitive. Young - a similar age to us - well dressed. Have you seen anyone around here? They would most likely have been coming from the direction of the town,” said Donal. It was hard not to convey the unease he felt in the presence of these mysterious strangers.

  The two figures turned to each other. Their movements were unhurried. As they turned back to the cadets, the nearest one spoke. “We have not. Are they dangerous?” The way they asked seemed to suggest the question arose out of intrigue, not fear.

  “You do not need to worry. They are unlikely to pose a risk to you or anyone else. But they are on the run and likely to act out of desperation. We would urge you to take particular care around strangers,” said Soli.

  “Good advice in general,” said the nearest figure. “May I ask what your fugitive did to warrant this hunt?”

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  “We are not at liberty to say,” replied Soli.

  Donal added, “But the entire Royal Guard is out looking for them. So, if there is anything you can tell us,” — Soli jabbed an elbow into his side — “anything you might have seen on your travels.” Donal cast a questioning frown at Soli.

  “Sounds like your fugitive is quite the wanted man.”

  “We didn’t say they were a man,” said Soli.

  The second figure spoke, “Sister, your bias is showing.”

  “My apologies. I am prone to jumping to conclusions. Is it not a man you seek?”

  “It is,” said Donal. “Well, a young man. In his teens.”

  “Ah, the misadventures of youth,” said the second sister.

  “But this would seem to be more than just misadventure, sister,” said the first. “The entire Royal Guard is searching for him. And these cadets. His crimes must be quite heinous.” They spoke this last sentence in a way that suggested it was both a statement and a question.

  Soli felt uneasy. Their interest in the fugitive was suspicious, but, more so, their whole demeanour was upsetting. It was difficult to identify what bothered her so much. Of course, their appearance was unusual. She had never seen nuns wearing wooden masks such as these. But there was something else. Something subliminal prodded at her consciousness like an unclean finger touching an eye.

  As Soli had failed to respond, Donal filled the silence with rote questioning. The sort they would subject any traveller that crossed their path that day to.

  Soli used this extra time for considered observation of the two strangers. This provided Soli with the last piece of the puzzle of what was so concerning about them. They were too still. Not that they were just standing still, but that they did not move at all. Except for large, deliberate movements - a turn of the head, a raising of an arm - they were statue still. Even when a person is standing still, there are subtle movements that we pick up on. Movements that are only visible to the subconscious. A person sways, their weight shifts between feet, muscles flex. The movements are only slight, but all combine to project the subtle aura of a living being. Soli couldn’t even be certain that either of the strangers was breathing - there were none of the telltale signs. Their tunics fell straight down from their shoulders, as they would if hung from a hanger.

  “I’m sorry,” Soli interrupted Donal’s questioning, “but would you mind removing your masks?”

  Both strangers turned their heads to face Soli. It wasn’t clear which one spoke: “We cannot.”

  “Cannot or will not?” Soli asked. They didn’t answer. “What are you hiding?” They turned their faces to Donal, who seemed to shrink several inches.

  “I think we’re finished here. We should carry on with the sweep,” he whispered to Soli.

  “We are not finished here,” she said in a tone that knocked off another couple of inches.

  The two huddled together to converse out of earshot of the sisters.

  “They say they have seen no one matching the fugitive’s description. Let’s move on.”

  “There’s something wrong about them,” Soli hushed her tone, but it kept its bite.

  “They aren’t who we’re looking for.”

  “How do you know?”

  “He could walk on stilts, I suppose,” Donal said with an ounce of snark. Somehow, Soli hadn’t noticed quite how tall they were - at least 7 feet. “And his friend too, whoever that is.”

  “Alright, maybe they’re not who we’re looking for, but they’re not right, I feel it,” said Soli.

  “You’d have to be dead not to feel it, Sol—”

  “Don’t call me Sol.”

  “—but it’s not a crime to be creepy. And we’ve got a job to be doing. If Schoner - or Hass! - finds out we went off investigating this and that instead of—”

  “Alright. I get it. Let’s go.” Soli turned to the strangers, who hadn’t moved a millimetre. “Sorry to have bothered you. We’ll be on our way.”

  The cadets continued along the track, past the strangers.

  With a little distance between them, Donal spoke. “So, should we stick to the path, or move onto the beach, or—” Soli stopped him with a raised finger.

  “For caution’s sake, let’s keep quiet for now,” she whispered. “We don’t know who or what we just encountered, and I don’t trust what is wilfully hidden.”

  Donal nodded in acknowledgement and braved a backwards glance. The two strangers had not moved from the spot where they had met. But each had now turned and was watching them, motionless. An icy ripple slid down his spine and span his head front-wise. Regret pooled in his gut and gargled a desire, echoed in Donal’s head, to run.

  The cadets’ path lead them around a large standing rock embedded in a tall patch of gorse and they were out of sight. The two strangers turned to one-another.

  “What is your appraisal of the situation?” said the taller of the pair.

  “Interesting. We have been gifted a most delightful opportunity,” replied the other.

  “Would this not affect our plan?”

  “I do not see how it could.”

  “The plan has precedence above all else, does it not?”

  “Indeed.”

  “We risk its success. The countryside is awash with soldiers.”

  “We are of no concern to them.”

  “The girl was concerned. What if—”

  “It is your concern that is to be questioned.” A third voice came from the trees to their side. A third sister, dressed in identical garb, revealed herself. She crouched within the branches of a nearby tree. From here, she had observed everything that had taken place. “To cultivate concern in the minds of others, to take risks, these are but two tenets of our order. We drop the pebbles that cause the ripples that intermingle in delicious and unintended ways. Some are destroyed and sink back into a glacial calm, others grow into thunderous tsunamis, but all are equally important. It is not the individual, but the combined result of the endeavour that is important. You would do well to remember that when such conservative thoughts next enter your mind.”

  “Indeed,” said the tall sister.

  “I only wish to see the plan through to its successful conclusion,” pleaded the shorter sister.

  “As do we all. But don’t forget that it is still only a single pebble,” said the sister in the tree. “A big pebble, for sure. We have the means and we have time. We should take advantage of each opportunity as it presents itself.”

  “Absolutely,” the tall sister again.

  “The glacier was an opportunity, the mangrove was an opportunity, the ship was an opportunity, yet another is lying here on the beach mere feet away. And many more will present themselves in the course of our work. It is our duty to take advantage of them all. Agreed?”

  “Agreed,” said the two sisters on the path.

  “We have the means and we have the time.” The third sister climbed down from the tree. She cradled her front as she did so, holding on to something under her clothes. Standing with her sisters, she looked along the track. In one direction stood Riiktigendslig, the other the standing stone, and beyond that, Soli and Donal. She broke a branch off the tree and threw it into the air. “We follow the break.”

  It landed with the broken end pointing towards the open countryside beyond the path. Without making another sound, the three strangers followed its heading. They vanished into a patch of scrub.

  Soli and Donal ducked down. The strangers passed through the undergrowth mere feet from where they were sitting. Once they could no longer hear their movements, Soli spoke. “They are definitely not good news.”

  “I don’t know what any of that was about, but I have to agree,” replied Donal. “I know what I said earlier, but should we follow them? Maybe we split up. No, we should stick together. What about the fugitive? Ah, there are enough people looking for him. No-one else knows about these weirdos. Yeah, let’s follow them. Ah, but Schoner and Hass!”

  Soli thought for a moment. “I want to take a look at the beach.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, you heard, right? There’s an opportunity lying on the beach here. Whatever that means, we should check it out before we decide what action to take. Could be someone in trouble, could be they laid a trap or something.”

  “You’re right. We know roughly where they went. Shouldn’t be too hard to track three tall nuns in wooden masks cross-country.”

  Soli and Donal pushed through the tight-knit line of trees between the path and the beach. As their feet touched the sand, they saw Elfbones lying unconscious a short way above the tide-line.

  They rushed to his side. “He’s breathing,” Donal had a hand on his chest as he felt for a pulse on his neck. “Just unconscious.”

  “He fits the description,” said Soli.

  “What?” Donal had forgotten why they were originally here. He looked again at Elfbones. “You’re right. So, they knew? They lied to us. Why?”

  Soli released one flare from her belt. “Makes more ripples.”

  The flare rocketed high into the sky above Firelime Bay.

  ***

  It must be morning, thought Elfbones. Yet again, he had had a superlative night’s sleep amid the most distressing of events. This may have been because he could not remember exactly what had happened to him. He could remember his escape from the creature Hepo. Not in detail, but he still felt the deep sense of relief that set in as he breached the ocean’s surface. He remembered swimming, exhausted, towards… something. Land? It was a shadow in the dream-tinged fog of near-waking memory. No, three shadows.

  No matter. The sun was shining - he could feel it on his face. Eyes still closed, Elfbones yawned, his mouth gaping wide. As he attempted to stretch his arms above his head, he realised they were stuck in this position. On top of that, he noticed an odd sensation underneath him. It brought to mind winter with the other boys at Kern. Having no sleds to use, they had thrown themselves down snow-covered hillsides. There was no time to question what was happening, as he found himself plunged into water. His open mouth filled, and he choked on the unexpected flood in his throat.

  His arms were free now, and Elfbones pulled himself up into a seated position. He was sitting in the surf at the very edge of where the waves encroached on the beach. White water surrounded his lower half as coughing gave way to gasps of air. Two of the Royal Guard stood on either side of him. They were the ones who had dragged him into the water. Upon laying eyes on them, they grabbed Elfbones under the arms and hauled him to his feet. Through strands of sopping hair, he could see a figure approaching.

  “Awake now?” the figure spoke in a voice that seemed like it could drown out thunderstorms. The gentle tumbling ocean waves were no competition. “Hold him up, men,” said the figure.

  “Yes sir, Major,” came the stereo reply.

  “Wh- what’s going on?” asked Elfbones out of a genuine desire to understand the moment. And a futile attempt to convince his captors that they had the wrong person. Laughter filled the air. He tried to look about, to see its source, but his hair slumped into his eyes.

  “Allow me to illuminate the situation.” boomed the figure in front of Elfbones. A large, coarse hand dragged itself across his face, peeling the hair from his eyes.

  Soldiers covered the beach. Most seemed to find his predicament to be humorous. But there were others whose faces further darkened his morning. They were in the minority, but they looked at Elfbones with stoney masks of fierce resentment. It made their colleagues appear to Elfbones like long-lost friends in comparison. Whatever his fate, he hoped it did not involve a single one of these sour golems.

  “You’re captured, princess,” said the Major. Elfbones craned his neck up to see who was talking. A barrel chest was the engine behind his enormous voice. Above that, fixed upon a granite cliff of a neck, sat a roughly hewn head. Carved into this, a hard face that even a loving mother would feel compelled to shy away from. “You are looking at the Royal Citadel’s finest, boy. The king’s own Royal Guard.” A cheer went up among the soldiers. “By the looks of you, you’ve had a pretty tough time of it the last day of two. Shoulda known better. Shouldn’t have run. You was always going to be caught. Coulda saved yourself some hassle. But here we are at the inevitable conclusion of your pathetic little tale.”

  Elfbones didn’t care for the way the major belittled him. He knew why they had come after him. They were only doing as they were told; he reasoned. But, after what he’d been through, sitting on the sand, soaking and cold, the major’s tone rubbed him the wrong way. As a result, he got cocky. “Oh my,” said Elfbones, “It really did take an awful lot of you to track down little old me.” A dark cloud passed over the Major’s face. He fixed Elfbones with a fierce stare, then took a moment to compose himself.

  “We’re just here to see such a mighty outlaw laid low. Eh, lads?” The crowd erupted in laughter - even some sour faces cracked. “Some of us have only heard tell of your kind in the old tales our Poppies used to scare us with as young-uns.” Another wave of revelry surged through the crowd. “Oh, but careful, boys.” The major feigned concern, “We don’t want to anger him.”

  Elfbones felt his face flush and dropped his head. The major was not having this. He slid a finger under Elfbones’ chin, lifted it, and pulled it to turn his head to one side. “Here.” He pointed towards the crowd. “Come forward, cadets.” Soli and Donal made their way through the rows of soldiers. “Come on. Here, in front. He won’t bite.” The cadets seemed as embarrassed as Elfbones as they made their way centre-stage. “These are the two what tracked you down, oh great and fearsome outlaw. Two Royal Cadets.” The major put his face next to Elfbones’ and sneered, “And one of them’s a girl.” Soli could have screamed.

  “What do you think about that?” the major’s eyes widened as he spoke. They were like saucers.

  What little fight Elfbones had left in him evaporated. He looked at the cadets. “Good for you.”

  There was silence for a moment. The major glued his stare to Elfbones.

  “OK, that’s enough play!” The words exploded from the Major. Even the assembled members of the Royal Guard jumped. “Are we ready to travel?” He aimed the question over the crowd to the tree-line beyond.

  A voice beyond the trees replied, “Yes, sir! Ready, sir!”

  The major turned to the guards standing beside Elfbones. “Bring him.”

  The crowd parted as guards marched Elfbones up the beach and then through the trees to the path beyond. Here was an unusual sight: two large stone hemispheres, separated by only a foot. Each attached to a wooden shaft. The two long shafts joined at a yoke attached to two of the largest horses Elfbones had ever seen.

  Elfbones was pushed through the gap between the hemispheres. “Stand in there,” said one guard, pointing to the hollow inside of one hemisphere. Elfbones stepped up into it. Almost immediately, the two halves moved. Guards on both sides were pushing them together. The gap between them narrowed. Elfbones noticed each one had large teeth carved into its outer rim. The two halves came together. The teeth interlocked and Elfbones found himself inside a stone ball.

  It was very dark inside, but not completely. There was a hole in either side of the ball where the curved ends of the shafts hooked. A small gap between the shaft and the stone provided a little light, as well as a limited view of the world outside.

  “Comfy?” The major’s voice was almost as clear as if he was inside with Elfbones - even the stone was no match for it.

  Elfbones peeked through the gap. All he could see was the bottom half of the major’s face.

  “This is the travelling oubliette. Your own private carriage. It’s a half-day to Schadbane. Hope you’ve lost your sea legs.” He called to his men, “Forward march!”. Elfbones watched as the major’s mouth drew up into a sickly grin. “Try to keep up.”

  The horses whinnied as a crack rang out. The shaft hooks embraced the inner wall as the oubliette jolted and rolled. Elfbones stumbled and tried to steady himself. But every surface his hands touched was in motion. He fell and rolled up the back wall before tumbling and falling again. This happened two more times before he got his feet beneath him. He matched the pace at which the oubliette rolled - a light jog, not too taxing, but not something he was sure he could keep up for half a day.

  Elfbones considered their destination: the name was familiar to him. It could have been a name he had seen on the map? No. Somewhere else. He had researched the area before setting off from Kern, but where had he seen that name? Hadn’t he heard it — Yes, the guard at the hedge had mentioned it. Schadbane. It hadn’t registered then. Schadbane. The memory returned to him like a plunge into ice water.

  “Oh no,” he said.

  Another crack hurried the horses along and increased the oubliette’s speed. Elfbones stumbled and lost his footing. He fell, twisting to one side, and cracked his head on the wall of the oubliette. Everything went dark, and the oubliette trundled on towards its destination.