Stocke, who healed unnaturally fast, regained consciousness the next day. Despite Belvon’s protests, he clawed his way up to his feet despite his dizziness and made to leave the room.‘Stocke, my boy,’ Belvon Laire said with his usual dramatic voice. ‘Lay down, rest, there is no good to come from rushing oneself.’‘Thank you, Belvon, but no. I’m in quite a bad mood, need some time to myself.’Stocke returned to his room, shut the door behind him, and stared out at the field outside. Flowers were blooming, the wind brushed at the grass, and the sun gleamed from the east. The weather mocked his foul mood.From the events surrounding the Laire mansion, he felt so utterly useless – and betrayed! He noticed the indecision in Locke’s posture and face. He saw how he had edged closer to hand Caria Laire over to Straza. But … was it really his right to be mad? Caria Laire had treated him so poorly back at the containment camp. She had aided Kelnaxx Laire in the cutting off his ears and tails.
The sand stretched to the horizon in every direction. Great dunes formed like waves in the sand sea. The sun beat down from the cloudless blue sky, creating waves of heat that reached a few metres above the sand. The place was devoid of detail, except for a column of sandy dust that worked its way between the dunes as it headed westward. A large, scaly beast charged through the column of dust. More than ten metres wide and thirty long. It was a triceratops, far larger than a normal one, and domesticated. Leather straps lined the body, holding a platform of wood and stone tight on top of its back. There was a crowd of people on this platform. One of them was at the front, wearing a pair of goggles, looking through a spyglass to navigate the sandy land in front of them. This man was Miles Rodger. He was a man of the Amber Army, a squadron of the Royal Army of Justisar that was dedicated to roaming the land and bringing peace. He hid his sleek black hair underneath a leather cap and twi
'Locke, can we go to the beach today? The wind is so pleasant, and the sun is warm, but not hot. It would be a waste not to go,' Fahrla said. 'Sure, let's go.' He grabbed her hand and pulled her up to her feet. Fahrla was only a year younger than he was, but her figure was small and frail, the result of a girl that could never have a proper and regular diet. This poor health left her always in the tender care of Locke, who had to watch over her every step. Locke himself was only fourteen but had grown strong enough to carry her. Fahrla climbed onto his back and held onto his shoulders. 'Careful now,' he said, gently stepping down to the lower platforms and onto the streets of the slums. As they walked down the street, he waved to the familiars of the Arindel slums. There was Old Broom, the name everyone gave to the old man who always swept at the sandy street ways. People said that he never quite recovered from the shock of losing his wife, and now devoted his life to sweeping the
A shadow swished in the darkness in front of them, and with a slash of silver, a demented figure appeared, holding a scythe with one hand. Locke skidded to a stop, and Fahrla held onto his shoulders tight. The figure laughed at them. He wore a hooded cloak, and underneath the cloak, Locke could make out a skull. Bone knuckles flashed underneath the hem of his sleeve. Lightning and thunder crashed around them as the rain sunk into their rags and their skin. Danger! Locke's senses cried out at him. Whoever this person was, he was out here to bring harm. 'Danger, so he thinks.' The figure stretched out his bone hand and touched Locke's forehead. 'And danger, so she thinks.' He touched Fahrla's forehead. With a touch, Locke found that he could not move. Fear gripped at him, holding him tight. He felt Fahrla's delicate body shudder against his own, her breaths short and sharp, and her finger trembling against his shoulders where she held him. 'St-stay away!' Locke cried. The cries in th
When Locke came to, he found himself sitting on a rocking wooden platform on top of a massive triceratops as it made its way east. 'Hey, you're awake.' A girl he did not recognise smiled at him. Before he realised what was happening, she had handed him a bowl of rice and a fork. 'Eat up, eat up. Stag will want to speak to you, so eat up while you can. I'm Trys.' Trys had orange hair that fell to her shoulders. Eyes as green as moss and freckles that stretched across her face, she had the mien of a cheerful and jovial girl who let little bother her. 'I heard about what happened,' she said as she shovelled rice into her mouth. 'Really sucks, I hope you can find her again.' Locke could hardly make out what she was saying from all the rice in her mouth. He was still in that state between dream and reality, and he was struggling to remember what had happened. 'Where am I?' 'You're on top of Dorothy the triceratops. Come on, eat up. Or I'll eat it for you.' 'Who are you?' 'Huh, I alre
It took Dorothy the triceratops three days to break free from the sweltering dunes of the Sandara desert. The desert shifted into a rocky landscape where smaller dinosaurs roamed alongside leagues of two-legged feathered birds that were as tall as a human. 'That's a Kalbuk,' Miles said, pointing to the feathered birds. 'They look goofy, but you definitely don't want to go toe-to-toe with one. Its beak is strong enough to break through metal, and its talon can cut through your gut with ease. Don't underestimate them.' In his free time, Locke had decided to spend his time at the front of the triceratops next to Miles so that he could learn more about the land outside of Arindel. Every so often Arla would run up to Miles, offer a few words in secret, at which point the two of them would look back at Stag, who waved at them with a smug smile on his face. 'He just does it to annoy me,' Miles said as Arla returned to Stag. 'He wants to know "how long?" every few hours. What would it take
It was night. Dorothy continued marching her way towards the east. Across the blanket of stars in the sky, and the sickle moon above, there was the shadow of a distant castle. This was the royal castle of Justisar.‘First time seeing it?’ Locke, who thought that he was the only one awake, jumped in shock. ‘Relaaax, it’s only me.’ Trys sat down next to him.‘Yeah. First time. Lived all my life in Arindel.’‘What was it like over there?’‘Lots of sand, not much food.’‘Sounds like hell.’Locke shook his head. ‘I miss the people in the slums. There was more than just Fahrla, my sister, who I lost that day. I lost all my friends, all the familiar faces that I walked by and talked to every day. We had a strong sense of community in the slums. Everyone knew everyone, and everyone understood each other’s plight.’‘I’m sorry.’ Trys twirled her orange hair around a finger.‘For what?’ He met her gaze and playfully hit her on the shoulder. ‘Don’t apologise for no reason. Where did you come from
Hidden deep within a forest a short way to the North-West of the Royal City, Justisar, was the Amber Army’s headquarters. Constructed of dark stone, with dusty windows spanning across the walls, the place had a very gothic appearance to it. Stag named the place the Amber Hall.The Amber Hall was split into four quadrants. The girls’ dorms were to the east, the boys’ dorms to the west, the training hall to the north and the recreation room to the south.It was evening when they reached the Amber Halls, and Locke lit up when he saw it. This place was amazing compared to Arindel.‘Make yourself scarce,’ Stag roared over the soldiers, who were eager to jump off Dorothy and return to their rooms. ‘Have a good night’s sleep and meet me here at sunrise. I feel it is time that we turn things up a notch with your training.’Groans swept through the ranks of the soldiers.Locke expected Stag to show anger, but a malicious smile played at his mouth instead.‘Sleep well, all of you. It’s the last