He just couldn’t find that girl. He ran over bridges made of bones, and down abandoned stone tunnels, and through elaborate bird’s nests. Still, she was crying somewhere. He began to wonder if he was getting any closer when he felt himself get lighter and float upwards, and he awoke encased in blankets in the bed in his room in the castle.

He groaned and curled in on himself. He wanted more sleep, but he was awake now and sleep simply wouldn’t come. He sighed and threw the covers aside. His clothes from the night before clung clammily to him, and when he saw a new set of clothes he quickly shucked his old clothes and got dressed. That helped; he felt more awake now.

Tom pulled open the door to his room and glanced down the hallway to get his bearings. He was pretty sure of the kitchen’s location, so he struck out on his own, passing occasional servants. He began to wonder how much they knew of Brask, if they realized how ruthless he was. They probably did. Brask wasn’t the sort of person to disguise his nature.

He got turned around once and spent a few minutes trying to look like he knew what he was doing as he backtracked, but soon enough he could smell bread dough and frying meat. He picked up his pace and entered the kitchen through an open door, and stopped short to see Brask standing in the opposite corner, talking with a few other men. They appeared to be attendants; when Brask saw that Tom had entered, Brask waved a hand and the others hurried away.

As the cooks steered clear, Brask strode up to Tom and said, “I’ve been waiting for you to awaken. I spent most of last night awake in my chambers, thinking over your comments. And I have decided that you are right. Have someone bring you to my study after breakfast, and I’ll show you my plans for an offensive.”

Tom nodded and asked, “How’s Hope?” Brask seemed a little taken aback, and Tom wondered if he expected a bigger reaction out of Tom. He wasn’t going to get it. Tom wasn’t about to make a big deal over being right.

Brask recovered and replied matter-of-factly, “Being repaired. The priestess has quite a lot of magic to do to remove the last of that vile substance the Trych used last night, and your boy has been working all night to repair the damage.”

Something occurred to Tom. “Where do you get spare parts?” he asked.

“They were with the Giant Armor when we recovered it,” Brask said, his voice abrupt and almost dismissive. “Now, I have much to do.”

“Like what?” Tom asked. He knew he was pushing Brask’s buttons, but now he was curious to see how this Lord would react to a kid who had a brain.

Brask gritted his teeth and leaned down. “Many, many of Braskil’s people died last night. I have to decide where to bury them all. And how we’re going to continue living here with so few people left.”

Tom didn’t ask any more questions. Brask swept out of the room.

Tension drained from the kitchen, and Tom realized that Brask really was known to be a harsh man. He wandered over to a sideboard and munched on a hot, buttery biscuit and something that looked like bacon but tasted like roast beef.

He suddenly realized that he’d never seen anyone else eating. He knew there must be dining rooms somewhere. Maybe they ate early in the morning; everyone was certainly up and about by the time he was. He shrugged to himself. He didn’t particularly want to eat at a table with a bunch of strangers anyway.

When he was done, he found a servant who took him to Brask’s study. It was the same room Tom had been in earlier, when he’d seen the maps. Brask sat at the chair behind the desk, his brow furrowed as he studied the papers before him. His earlier imperious attitude was gone; now he was just a leader. When Tom entered, the older man stood and walked over to Tom’s side of the table, drawing him closer and pointing at a map.

It was the first map Tom had seen earlier: the castle sat in the center, with rivers and farmland spread out around it and a large “pit” symbol at the top. Someone had added a few smaller pit symbols on the left side and the lower-right corner.

Brask gestured at the pit at the top of the map. “That,” he said, “is the largest nest of Trych. They’ve established smaller nests to the west—” he pointed at the left side of the map “—and southeast.” He pointed at the lower-right. “There are also small groups scattered all over Braskil, but they appear to be minor off-shoots of the main nests.”

He placed both hands on the desk and leaned forward, not looking at anything really. “We need to do the most damage we can. You need to do the most damage you can. You could attack one of the smaller nests and probably clear it out entirely, but that would alert the other nests and they’d swarm you. It would be quite a hard fight for you to get all the way back to the main nest to our north.

“So, my plan is for you to attack the main nest first. You can smash that, then continue to the smaller nests, where resistance will be minor.” He paused. “What do you think?” he asked, turning to Tom.

Tom stayed silent for a moment, thinking over the plan. He suddenly realized that Brask was asking for Tom’s opinion. He’d never done that before. Considering the sort of man he was, he probably never asked for an opinion like that. Tom figured he must have impressed Brask with his speech last night. Maybe you won’t underestimate kids next time, Tom thought.

Finally, Tom nodded. “That seems like the best plan,” he said. “When?”

“Hope should be ready to fly this afternoon,” he said. He paused, then leaned slightly towards Tom. “Do not attack with wild abandon,” he said, a little more quietly. “If you feel yourself getting overwhelmed, retreat back to the castle. There’s no need to endanger yourself. Or the Giant Armor.”

Tom grinned to himself at the realization that he had come before the Giant Armor. Maybe Brask was just a big softie at heart.

Leave a Reply