HECTOR

            Occasionally, Wingull nudged his ear to comfort him.  How did I ever get myself in this situation? He asked himself.  Again, the pang of guilt struck him in the stomach.  It’s all my fault, that’s how.  If would have just left for the Sparks’ palace when Ryan told me to he’d still be alive. Of course, Hector had lingered too long and they got caught in the breach of Mauville’s wall.  Ryan had made Hector hide behind a fallen building while the guard-in-training beat back many waves of Brightflame soldiers. That was before the Prince of Lavaridge showed up and his Combusken gutted Marrill, Ryan’s Spirit Pokémon.  Hector still couldn’t shake the image of Marrill trembling as its insides spilled across the ground.

            It was bad enough that Hector’s friend had died protecting him, but why did his other best friend, his Prince, have to be there as well? If I would have just left sooner, Swampert would still be safe… I would still be safe…

            Hector wasn’t safe, though.  He and Wingull, and Chris and the rest of their party had been captured by some Mirage Desert soldiers.  Presently, he and all the men that had left Mauville were in the back of a covered wooden cart, awaiting their arrival to the destination.  It wouldn’t be long now, to Lavaridge.  It was where they were planning on going, one way or another.  At least this covered wagon keeps the sand away.

            The fisherman’s son found himself puzzling on what Chief Sand had said back at the Mirage Tower.  “Not Carlos Brightflame,” he muttered to himself.  He had to mutter quietly, their captors didn’t like it when he talked.  Then who could it be?

            As the wooden cart rumbled on, Hector tried to catch Chris’s eye.  He had to do something to show how sorry he was.  That was why he had gotten the other guard drunk and took his armor to sneak into the mission.  It was all his fault anyway, so he supposed it was his job to make it right.  He thought Chris would appreciate his responsibility, but all Hector received was a scolding.  He hadn’t talked to the young King since. 

            Sometimes Hector would try to nudge Wingull away with his head, as his hands were bound.  Go! Get away, he thought.  Be free.  I can’t let something happen to you as well.  Hector didn’t even have a Spirit Bond with the Pokémon, it just happened to follow him ever since he had fed it a fish he had caught on a trip with his father. 

            I wonder if they worry about me, or do they still think me safe in Mauville?  He was glad he didn’t have to face his parents after what had happened.  It was likely that they would scold him for how he caused this mess as well.  Father would be disappointed that it was his son that ruined everything…

            Hector was roused from his thoughts by a voice from outside.  “Halt,” it said.  He felt the wheels of the cart grumble to a stop.  “What business do you have here?” The voice said again.

            “Tell your new King we’ve got some fish for him,” came the thick voice of the Sand soldier driving the cart. 

We’re here, Hector thought as he observed the other men in his party begin to awaken.  They communicated through their eyes. Without talking.  “Where were we?” their looks seemed to say.  “I don’t know for sure,” others responded.  The last person to talk audibly had been the guide that King Marcus Spark had sent with them.  The driver answered his questions by tying his arm to the back of the cart and dragging him naked through the hot sand and rough ground. Only Chris put his head down, Hector noticed.  I know where we are.  Lavaridge.  So much for stealth.  It wasn’t as hot as Hector had imagined it would be, given that the town nestled in the shadow of Mt. Chimney.  Who is the “new king,” though? 

            He thought back again to what Chief Sand said.  Not Carlos Brightflame.  Hector had never seen the actual battle being fought outside Mauville’s walls.  Had King Carlos taken a wound and died in battle?  Was his son, Ryan’s killer, the new King of Mt. Chimney?  His thoughts were interrupted again. 

            The new voice was low and smooth, almost pleasing to the ears.  “My people don’t take slaves,” he said.

            “Aye, but all the same, you’ll want this one,” the driver said.  “Bring the fish-king out!”  Other Sand soldiers climbed in the cart and emptied it of all of the would-be rescue party.  Chris was the farthest from the back entrance, so Hector and the others were thrown in the sand while the driver went inside the cart. 

            Hector took in his surroundings.  There was mostly sand behind from where they had come, judging by the tracks.  But where is Mt. Chimney? There was no towering black mountain in sight.  Instead, the sands gradually gave way in front of the cart to trees and eventually a deep, green forest.  Where are we?

When the young King of Slateport emerged, they had unbound his legs so at least he could walk. 

            “So you were telling the truth,” said the man with the calming voice.  Hector rolled around to see who it belonged to, a man in his early thirties.  He was a short man, but muscular.  He had a dark tinted skin and almond-shaped eyes, and he must have had shoulder-length black hair, but it was drawn up into a tight bun at the back of his head.  It was the Pokémon that lingered by his side that caught his attention.         It was taller than its human partner, and green.  It had a lizard-like appearance, and lazy yellow eyes.  Sharp-looking leaves dangled from its arms and its tail was covered with them like a tree.  Nothing made sense anymore.  Isn’t that a Sceptile?  What is a member of the Forrest Royal family doing with Brightflame banner men?

            “Sceptile,” the short man said as he pointed at Chris’s bound arms.  Instantly obeying, the great green lizard swiftly crawled along the sand to break the ropes that bound Chris’s hands behind his back.  Hector’s friend and King was obviously confused at what was happening. 

            “We got these, too,” said the driver of the cart.  He threw down Chris’s spear and a sword.  “I reckon you should pay extra for those.” 

            Forrest, Hector assumed he was, beckoned towards the trees lining the edge of the desert.  Another man wrapped in green cloth from head to toe emerged with a bag that jingled as he walked.  Forrest took the bag and threw it to the cart driver, who opened it and tried to hide his smile. 

            “I’ll be taking every one of these men,” said Forrest.  “I assume there is more than enough silver there for you and Chief Sand.” Hector’s heart leapt in his throat for a second.  Was he going to be free? Or was he jumping out of the Carvanha pond and in with the Sharpedo?  Forrest had said he didn’t keep slaves…

            The driver thought for a moment.  He pointed at the two men from Oldale, Ares and Hermes.  “You can have the fish-King, and his fancy spear, as well as those two but I’m afraid I can’t give you all of the men.”  Just like that, Hector was hopeless again.

            “Why is that?” Forrest eyed the cart driver suspiciously.

            “It’s no fault of mine, Tree-man,” he said.  “Before we left to bring these ones to you, the captain of our scouts had sent a Flygon to Lavaridge; told Starfall we had some hostages for him.  Of course, you know as much how my Lord Sand never trusted Starfall. Being late for the battle at Mauville and all.  Then he went and turned on the Brightflames and sat his traitorous butt on the Mt. Chimney throne himself.  So you see, when my Lord Sand found out his scout Captain had already sent a letter to Starfall, he…”

            “Buried the man in the sand to feed the Trapinch, I’m aware of Randall Sand’s customs,” finished Forrest.  He glanced at each of the remaining captives, even locking eyes with Hector and Wingull (who was perched on Hector’s head).  “So it seems if I am going to keep my pact with Sand hidden from Starfall, he must have his hostages. Our plans are not yet ready… I’m sorry, men,” he said to the failed rescuers still bound on the ground.  He turned back to the cart driver.  “Are Carlos Brightflame’s sons still safe?”

            “Aye,” answered the driver.  “He’s using them to keep the other Mt. Chimney chiefs in line.”

            “Good,” said Forrest as more of his men emerged from the trees and picked up Chris’s weapons as well as Hermes and Ares.  “If any harm comes to them, I’ll make sure to bury your own Chief Sand in the desert, as well as yourself.  Make sure the Brightflame boys stay alive.”

            With that Forrest put his arm around Chris, who was rubbing his arm that had not completely healed, and led him into the trees.  They made eye contact and Chris seemed to say “I’m sorry.” Hector nodded back to him.  He wasn’t valuable like Chris was.  He was no King, only a misplaced fisherman’s son. Soon, Sceptile’s dark green tail disappeared into the trees behind him. 

            The Sand men then proceeded to load Hector and the other rescuers back into the cart.  And who will make sure that we stay alive? He thought as Wingull hopped back into the cart to rest on Hector’s shoulder for the long ride to the next destination: Lavaridge. For sure, this time.