Crown Seeker

Chapter 3: Strange Greetings

But with Camp Bracken drawing nearer with each second, Oliver soon forgot all about Rolind. His excitement reached a fevered pitch, matched only by the nerves crawling around in his stomach. The team of horses pulling the wagon whickered anxiously as they approached the gate, as though they too could feel the restless energy of their passengers.

Once through the gate, Oliver was allowed his first real look at a Crownseeker camp. It was like stepping inside a beehive; there was a flurry of movement everywhere Oliver looked. No one seemed to be sitting still.

Men crossed the wide yard before the gate in steady streams, carrying boxes and leading horses. The smell of sweat and polished metal lingered on the cool afternoon air. Soldiers clambered up and down from the walls on rickety wooden ladders, moving as quickly and surely as insects.

Every one of the men wore the symbol of the Crownseekers draped about their shoulders – the white cape as pure as snow, embroidered with a gray crown so delicate that it could only be seen when it caught the light.

Oliver felt his heart begin to beat faster, a staccato echo that pounded through his head as well as his chest. He had only ever seen two Crownseekers before; traveling recruiters who had wandered all the way south into the Vale. Oliver remembered how they had made him feel, just by looking at them – like he had fallen headfirst into a storybook.

That feeling was multiplied by every sighting of the gray crown fluttering by. It was nearly enough to overwhelm him. A wind suddenly whipped by, tugging at cloaks and the pale banners standing on the walls, plastering them proudly against the blue sky.

Oliver leaned almost all the way over the wagon, trying to see behind a large boulder sitting near the gate that was blocking a good portion of Camp Bracken from view. But then a rumbling sound made him look back, a noise like a crack opening from deep underwater.

A piece of the boulder swiveled around to face Oliver. The boulder had a face. And it was looking at Oliver.

Oliver gave a cry and threw himself against the opposite end of the wagon, tipping the whole thing slightly to the side. The horses let out a chorus of shrill whinnies and came to a stop, stamping. The other young men shouted in alarm and quickly leaned against the other side until the wagon banged back down on all four wheels.

“Are you crazy?" Kelley demanded, his face as white as a sheet.

“Look!" Oliver babbled. He could barely get the words out. “The stone! Look at the stone!"

The young men leaned over Oliver's side of the wagon, nearly tipping it again in their excitement. The stone just sat there.

“I don't..." Aldric began, but he cut himself off with a curse as a loud crack split the air and the stone shifted slightly once again. The young men made such a racket of cries and shouts that the Crownseekers nearby stopped what they were doing to stare at them. The team of horses redoubled their screams, each trying to pull away from the harnesses that held them firmly to the wagon.

One of the young men, the bearded one whom Oliver did not know his name, leapt out of the wagon, landed on his belly with a grunt, then scrambled away across the yard. Oliver was very near the point of joining him.

“Recruits!" A shout split through all the racket like a hot knife through cold butter. Despite his gripping panic, Oliver stopped to stare at the speaker. A Crownseeker was standing before the wagon with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

His hair had grayed to almost snow-white, except for the edges around his temples, which were black. His sunken cheeks were flecked with stubble, which crept along a strong, curving jaw. The man's nose was beaked and his eyes made Oliver think of a falcon.

But Oliver did not pay attention to any of that for long. The Crownseeker was standing only a few feet away from the moving stone, with his back to it. “Sir!" Oliver cried. “The stone! Get away from it!"

But to his surprise, the Crownseeker did not even flinch. He chuckled and shook his head. “You recruits. Ten thousand different faces, but it's the same every time."

Then, to Oliver's increasing alarm, the Crownseeker walked right up to the stone. There came another grinding noise, which Oliver could feel reverberating in his teeth, and the stone face shifted to look down at the man. All told, the boulder was probably twelve feet high, with the face situated near the middle.

The Crownseeker looked up into the face unblinkingly. Then, abruptly, he laughed again and slapped the side of the rock. Oliver held his breath. The stone shivered, as though surprised, but it did nothing more.

“Men," the Crownseeker said, turning his back again on the moving rock, “I would like to introduce you to our resident camp Colossi, Goff. I believe he still holds the record for most instances of making recruits wet themselves with terror, which you all so kindly contributed to just a moment ago."

Oliver stared in awe at the huge stone.

“A Colossi?" Kelley whispered in a strangled voice. “But they're just fairy tales, aren't they?

“No, Master Kelley, they are most certainly not."

Everyone looked back to the Crownseeker in surprise, Kelley most of all. Oliver was sure that no one had told the old man their names yet.

“Well?" the Crownseeker barked. “What are all you still doing in that wagon? If your legs have ceased to function, I'll be only too glad to have Goff assist you back to the ground."

There was a small stampede as the young men jumped off the wagon. Oliver's feet sunk deep into the marshy earth as soon as they struck the ground. A sweet, yet heavy aroma wafted past him that somehow made him think of many things living and dying all together.

Oliver had to crane his neck to take in all of the Colossi. It was even bigger from the ground. He gulped and shifted his feet, wondering whether he was meant to go any nearer.

“A brave one, eh?"

Oliver turned and was shocked to see the Crownseeker looking only at him. Then, he looked behind him. All of the other recruits were standing in a tight clump with their backs against the wagon, as far away from the Colossi as they could get. Oliver was left standing out all by himself.

“Good for you, son," the older man said in a gruff voice. “About time we see a boy with a bit of backbone. Come closer."

Oliver felt his legs tremble beneath him. Knowing there was no way out now, he took a few tentative steps toward the stone. His heart froze as the deep, cracking noise came again and the stone face looked at him once more.

There were no eyes or mouth to speak of, but rather very slight impressions on the stone face where they ought to have been. The head was the only part of the creature that was easy to recognize. The rest looked to have been hauled out from a very lumpy boulder.

The whole area around the face was a slightly different color as well, a lighter gray among the granite. The featureless head c****d slightly as it studied him, but the creature made no other sound.

“Closer than that!" the Crownseeker barked suddenly, making Oliver jump. “Come now, he won't bite! Not unless you fool about with his mask, anyway." He paused. “Incidentally, that's something I'd advise against. Unless you were ever curious how it feels to be picked up and kicked a half a mile into the sky."

Oliver licked his lips as he stepped nearer. “Mask?"

“See that lighter gray stone? You can even see marks that might be eyes or lips on it, but they're very slight."

“I thought that was its face."

“No. Every single Colossi has a mask, near from the moment they're born as far as I'm aware. They're docile as sheep, usually. We use good old Goff here to haul stone from the quarry and sharpen trees by the forest-load for our fortifications, and he does it all without complaint."

Crane grinned and rubbed his nose. "Helps that Colossi don't seem to understand any languages, of course. But he's a model worker, regardless.

“But you just try and lay hands on a Colossi's mask, boy. One touch and they go berserk. Whole towns have been turned to rubble because some drunken fool tried to snatch one off on a dare."

Oliver leaned slightly to the side. With a small sound like a rock rolling across tiny pebbles, the head of the Colossi followed him. He leaned the other way and the head turned that way, too. Oliver laughed, some of his bravery returning to him as it became clearer the Colossi was not about to attack.

“Why the masks?" he asked the older Crownseeker.

“Eh?"

“Why do they wear them? And why are they so particular about nobody touching them?"

The old man ran a hand across his jaw and grinned. “Bleeding pox, boy, that's an odd question. Nobody knows. Well, maybe some do, but anyone I've heard of that's tried to peek under a Colossi's mask has ended up shorter by a head. You just concern yourself with not being the fool who tries to find the answer to that question."

Seeing that Oliver had not yet been torn to shreds, the other young men crept forward in ones and twos until they were all milling about the base of the Colossi. Kelley was sweating profusely, and Rolind was walking like he was trodding barefoot on glass. Oliver felt a little satisfaction to see his arrogant face screwed up in fear. Even the bearded youth crept back across the yard, face burning with embarrassment, to rejoin the group.

The Colossi's head made a nearly constant grinding noise as it swept from side to side, as though trying to keep them all in view at once. The frightened silence slowly began to give way to interested murmurs.

“I can see the face, sure enough," Aldric commented, squinting. “But is that all it has? No arms, no legs?"

The old Crownseeker threw back his head and laughed. “Now there's the question I was waiting for." He gave a short, shrill whistle.

A whole chorus of rumbling came from the Colossi, shaking the ground around it. Oliver was nearly knocked off his feet. He watched in amazement as enormous arms and legs disentangled themselves from the body. Oliver had no idea if they had been there all along, hidden among the dark rock, or had simply sprouted from the creature like trees.

The recruits scrambled backward again as the Colossi pushed itself upright. The bearded young man, who had been hanging the farthest back, tripped over his feet and fell to the ground.

Oliver was drowned in the huge creature's shadow. His momentary bravery shriveled up and died. Standing, the Colossi was over twenty feet tall. Tiny chips of rock went skittering down its huge body as it swung its huge head to look down at the old Crownseeker.

It seemed to be awaiting further instructions.

The old Crownseeker was still chortling at the young men's reactions. “Go on, Goff, you brute," he said to the Colossi. Then he gave two more sharp whistles, one short and one long. Immediately, the Colossi turned and began to walk toward the gates. It stepped over the closest encampment wall as though it was a garden fence and shambled off to the east, its footsteps shaking the ground.

Oliver watched open-mouthed, along with the other young men. Then another whistle from the Crownseeker caught their attention again.

“My name's Crane," he said. “Edgar Crane. And I'll be in charge of you soft steppers until you learn to walk on your own."

His eyes danced across all of them until they reached Oliver, where they rested the longest of all. “You're out in the wide, wide world, now, village boys," he said. “Welcome to the Crownseekers."