Someone was crying. It was a girl’s voice, a young girl’s voice, younger than him. Tom wanted to find her, stop her crying. He began to run. He ran through stone courtyards, impossibly high walls looming on every side. He ran through a passageway and onto the street of a decayed city, empty in the pale moonlight. He ran down streets and alleys, all of them deserted and dark, the girl’s cries getting fainter some times and louder at others. He turned a corner and was running through the hills of a graveyard, thousands of solemn white gravestones marking the dead. He was closer now. The graves turned into great piles of stones, ten feet high and higher, and the hills leveled out into grey-green meadows that lay in the shadows of tall mountains. She was close. He stubbed his toe on something and he was falling forward….

He surged up in his blankets. He was in his room in the castle. The air was thick, warm, and still. He shook his head as the dream faded and he yawned, stretching out on the many itchy blankets. He curled up and literally rolled out of bed, then walked over to the window and threw the curtains aside. The sun assaulted his eyes. He squinted out to see late morning sunlight glistening off Hope’s shoulder blades.

He heard a faint knock at his door. He called out, “Who is it?”

“The Priestess Alyas,” came the high, lilting answer.

“Come in,” Tom said, and the door clicked open and Alyas swished her way into the room. She wore the same flowing white silks she always seemed to wear. Her hands were clasped in front of her, and she was unconsciously wringing them over and over as she stared nervously at the floor.

“What is it?” Tom asked.

She hesitated, then looked him straight in the eye and blurted, “Why did you agree?”

Tom blinked. “Huh? Agree to be a pilot?”

“Yes!” she said, stepping forward. Her big eyes stared at him.

“Well,” Tom said, wondering why he had to explain this, “you all are in trouble. These bugs aren’t going away on their own. I’m the only one who can pilot Hope. So….” He struggled for words. Why couldn’t she understand this? “Who else?”

“But you’re from another world!” she said. “You have no family here, no relatives, no land to call your own. We are strangers.”

“Yes,” Tom said, “but you’re strangers that need me.”

She cocked her head to the side. “So? Why would you help strangers?” she said.

As Tom took a breath to reply, a young woman dressed in plain servant’s clothes strode into the room. She saw Alyas and stopped dead, eyes wide, and tried to scurry out of the room. Alyas held up a hand.

“I’ll be going,” she said, then turned back to Tom. “Whatever your reasons,” she said, her voice full of honesty, “thank you.” And with that, she swept regally out of the room. The maid bowed as Alyas left, then bowed to Tom, then with a dazed air, began straightening up the room.

As the woman bustled around his room, Tom turned back to the window. He replayed Alyas’ words, and his mind wandered to the origins of the Giant Armors. She was involved when the Armors were dug up, which was near here. Okay, he thought, so what does that mean? Why were they dug up?

Tom turned to the maid and smiled.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

She jumped and looked at Tom, her eyes wide with surprise and her arms full of clothes. “Selah,” she said, her voice mousy.

“I’m Tom,” he said. “Say, do you know where, um, Lord Brask might be?”

She looked down at the floor, as if amazed that Tom would speak to her and afraid of saying the wrong thing. “At this hour, he is usually in his study, Master Thomas.”

“Great! Where’s that?”

“I can show you, if you’d like,” she said. Tom grinned and nodded.

She waited outside as he changed into regular clothes. When he emerged, she gave him a small bow, then turned and led him down the cavernous hallways of the castle. It still seemed to go on forever, and the six-sided design made for weird corners and repeating patterns of halls and carpets that had Tom thoroughly lost within minutes. He was glad he had Selah with him; there was no way he’d find his way back without her.

He glanced at her sideways as they walked. She wouldn’t go ahead of him, but he couldn’t exactly go ahead of her, so they kept uneasily side-by-side. She looked so nervous she was almost blushing. Her eyes were fixed on the floor.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

She nearly jumped again. “No!” she said. Then, more calmly, “No.” She smiled slightly and relaxed a bit. “You are from a strange world. You aren’t familiar with our ways.” She searched for the right words as a group of people bustled past. “Brask is very important here. We all get along well enough with our daily lives, but we need a strong duke to organize us. Every land needs a strong ruler. The duke’s family has ruled here for hundreds of years, and they’ve done well. We’ve all done well. So…we show him great respect. He has a great sense of things.”

“He sure doesn’t seem to have a great sense for me,” Tom mumbled.

Selah looked shocked for a moment, then giggled. “That…may well be,” she said. “All of the people bow to Brask’s decisions, all the adults, and certainly the children. I’m sure Brask has never had a boy speak back to him. It’s a new experience for him.”

“Well, that does make sense,” Tom admitted. “But…well, I’m sure he’s a good guy, but Brask’s always trying to maneuver me into fighting. Like I hadn’t decided to fight.”

She stayed carefully silent. He looked at her again, and she looked back at him expectantly. “Tell me something,” he said. “Why do you think I agreed to fight?”

They walked the whole next hallway while she thought about that one. Finally, still very unsure of herself, she said, “Because you want to?”

“No,” he said, drawing out the “o.” “I’m doing it because you all need help. You’re under attack, and the only ones who can do anything about it are Adam and me.”

“But that’s so wonderful!” she said. “Wonderful of you, that is. So…noble!” She seemed to be almost glowing with enthusiasm. He was suddenly afraid she would try to reach forward and pinch his cheek. That kind of thing always made his stomach flip-flop.

“Here we are,” she said, interrupting his thoughts. Selah led him up to a large wooden door, at which she quietly knocked. When there was no answer, she knocked again. Tom bounced up and down on the balls of his feet. She knocked a third time, then silently pressed the curving silver latch and opened the door.

It opened on a huge wood-paneled room. Motes of dust hovered in the warm sunlight that streamed through huge windows opposite the door and glowed on well-polished wood tables half-covered with papers and open books. Bookcases lined the two walls on either side, and they were nearly filled with more books and scrolls. The room had the musty smell of an old library.

“Lord Brask must have left for a moment,” Selah said. “Would you like to wait here?”

Tom shrugged and said, “Sure.” He walked into the room—a little hesitant at first—then turned back to Selah and said, “Thanks.” She gave him a pleasant smile, bowed at the waist, and quietly shut the door.

Tom wasn’t going to let this opportunity pass. He hurried to the nearest table and peered at the open books. They were written in a weird, curly language he couldn’t read, and the scrolls looked so old and brittle he didn’t dare unroll any of them. He wandered over to the other table, which was buried under several layers of papers. Most were written in that weird language, but there were a few maps. One showed a castle made of three rings of walls, and Tom realized it was the castle he stood in. He took in the entire map, looking for the mountains in the distance…and there they were. The map was bordered by a jagged, deep purple ring, which must have been the boundaries of Braskil. There wasn’t much; a few towns, a river, and what looked like a lot of farm land.

Tom’s attention was drawn to a complex symbol near the top of the map. It showed what looked like a pit, and even some little people holding what looked like picks and shovels. He frowned in concentration, then started looking through the maps again. He thought he saw something like that. Sure enough, he found another map that showed a pit and a twisting maze of tunnels and passages beneath it, which got straighter and more intricate the further down it went. Judging from the size of the people drawn and the number and size of the passages, it must have taken them years to dig all this out.

The door clicked. Tom leapt up and, without thinking, turned to the window. The door swished open and Tom turned back to see Brask walk in. The older man gave Tom a tight smile and said, “How long have you been waiting?”

“Uh, just a couple of minutes,” Tom said. He wondered why he didn’t want to tell Brask about the maps, but something in him told him to skip it. “I’ve been looking out the window.” He hoped Brask wouldn’t notice the nervousness in his voice.

Brask nodded and asked, “What did you want to see me about?”

“Uh, it’s about the Giant Armors,” Tom said, pushing down the quiver in his voice. “You said you dug them up. How did you find them?”

Brask smiled tightly again. “Some of my men were digging in a mine near here, and they happened to find a sealed chamber that held Guardian, Adam’s Giant Armor. We had just found Hope when the Trych came swarming out of the mine, and they attacked the castle. We had to do something to stop them, and the Giant Armors were the only way.”

Something about this didn’t feel quite right to Tom, but he let Brask talk. “So that’s when you brought Adam over?”

“Yes,” Brask sighed. “But he’s had some trouble controlling Guardian. It isn’t responding to his mind nearly as well as Hope is to yours.”

“Why’s that?”

Brask arched an eyebrow, then shrugged. “Alyas would know that better than I. Or the ones who made the Armors, whoever they were.”

“Why us kids? Why do the Armors only respond to us?”

Brask sighed again, this time with a hint of past frustration. He turned to the window, his eyes losing their focus. “We don’t know. The cavern that held the Giant Armors contained a few scrolls, which in turn contained spells for summoning a pilot. With the Trych attacking, I insisted that the spells be cast as soon as possible. We were surprised when no pilot appeared. Priestess Alyas…took that poorly.” He paused. “It wasn’t until the next day that Guardian began to move on its own. We opened it, and Adam was inside. Apparently, there is some time before the spell takes effect.”

Brask gave Tom a serious, sincere look. “I never wanted to involve children. I don’t want to now. But you’re the only ones who can pilot the Giant Armors.”

Tom nodded, as though this was an obvious fact. Brask looked the tiniest bit uneasy, and he stole a thoughtful glance at Tom.

“In all honesty, Tom,” Brask said, turning to face him squarely, “You impress me. We summoned you here, you’re all alone, and yet you agreed to fight—”

“Oh, not this again!” Tom said, throwing up his arms.

Brask stopped in shock. “What do you mean?” he said, half curious and half indignant.

“Nobody seems to understand why I’m doing this,” Tom said. “Even though I keep saying it over and over.” Tom put a firm step forward. “What’s so weird about me wanting to help you all?”

Brask replied, “Because nobody else would want to.”

Tom stopped and tried to think that through. Brask continued, in the tone of one used to explanations, “I don’t know what people are like where you’re from, Tom, but here people are loyal to their land, and their family, and themselves. We protect those close to us, but we don’t protect total strangers. Oh, the occasional religious fanatic might preach tolerance for all, but when living, breathing men come upon a stranger dying by the side of the road, how many would stop to help?”

Tom could think of nothing to say. He wanted to argue, that people did help each other, but now he wasn’t quite so certain. He tried to remember when he’d seem people helping each other in real life, but he couldn’t think of anything.

All he could think to say was, “I help people all the time.”

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