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Barry followed the bat to the edge of the forest. He had heard of the Arids beyond, but he’d never seen them, so he could only guess that’s what lay before him. Treeless and rocky, it looked inhospitable even in the dark, yet that’s where she landed.
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“Lady Lucy,” the Prince corrected the young Knight, “is not our immediate concern. Right now, we wait quietly for Clifton to return.”
“Or end up as somebody’s midnight snack,” Barry muttered.
Ahead, a hushed Knight announced, “Someone’s coming, Sir.”
Clifton touched down in front of Elliot. “It’s one of the Stingers. Says his name is Julius and he knew we were coming. He wants to talk with you, but he wants you to leave the Knights behind.”
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The further the travelers trekked on, the closer the night and the silence drew in around them. Their near-tragic meeting with Lady Lucy had heightened Elliot’s sense of responsibility for their safety. Playing the scene over and over in his mind, he looked for a lesson he could take from it to help them stay alive.
We each have our strengths, he thought, and we need to honor them in each other. We can’t let our egos and disdain for someone else’s weakness cause dissension. If it hadn’t been for Clifton, Barry would be dead. Yet there’s something between them that doesn’t seem to be gratitude.
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Panic tightening his throat, Clifton screamed, “Stand down! Stand down, soldier!”
A tick of indecision seized the fearsome jaws. The furry head whipped toward the brash young bee.
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Beneath the unexpected flapping, Clifton bemoaned his deficient night vision as he searched the obscurity overhead for any movement greater than the fluttering leaves. Only moments earlier, they had been so thankful for the moon-eclipsing clouds, and now he just wished for some light. A cringing fear crawled up his back as he recognized the strangely solitary sound.
“Barry,” he hissed, “get down from there!”
“I’m tryin’ ta see what it is!”
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Clifton wished he were flying. “They’re right,” he reminded himself, “my buzzing would attract attention in the middle of the night, but this walking — crawling — through the woods in the dark… it’s nerve-wracking!”
Tripping yet again over yet another a random leaf or twig or pebble he couldn’t see in the shadowy mottle they called a trail, he fell sideways over a lichen-covered rock.
A harsh whisper emerged from its surface. “Oy! Watch i’ theah, mate!”
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King Arnie sent one third of the Knights he’d brought to Fen to go with Prince Elliot to the Freelands. He ordered another third to keep Princess Cassandra safe in Fen. With his small remaining contingent, his Greatness swept unnoticed through Bog. He didn’t stop till they reached the jail.
“Do you know who I am?” he asked the prisoner who’d freed the Crone.
“Of course I do, your Greatness,” the jittery fellow twittered, bowing his head. “I was born and raised in the Cranberry Bog, same as you.”
“Really? No one here knows you.”
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Elliot smiled. “Of course I’ll be back, my love. There is no force of nature or unnatural conscious design powerful enough to keep me from you.”
He had pushed the end of the day as far away as possible, filling each minute with a smorgasbord of stories and plans and preparations only to find sunset had swallowed the overstuffed hours as easily as ever, dragging the blanket of night behind it. Those who were going to the Freelands had agreed to travel under the cover of darkness.
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As eager as she was to cause the King of Bog more trouble than he could handle, Duggla the Crone didn’t like being threatened, and veiled threats were still threats.
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The Aero Squadron Captains set down on either side of the Queen.
Watching the prisoner’s face, she said, “This would-be murderer has hinted that the lookouts might have been attacked. Start on the east side, please, and scan the perimeter.”
As they flew off to investigate, she continued the interrogation.
“Who is the General?”
No reply.
“Who is the Assassin?”
Space, Time, and Raspberries 
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