Kingdom

by Kyle West

  “That is where we disagree, Pallos. There can only be one captain, just as there is one ship.”

  “Have it your way then, Captain.”

  “I already give you more autonomy than anyone else on board, including the Elders. What do you want me to do? If you want to come with us, I already told you could. If you can handle that gun, then all the better. Owning a gun and handling a gun are two different things.”

  There was a flicker of doubt before his face resumed its former stony stubbornness. “Of course I can handle a gun.”

  “Fine. You’re coming with us, then. That’s an order.”

  I shifted the thrusters downward, lowering the ship toward the green earth. I reached to flip on the intercom.

  “Prepare for descent.”

  The ground approached quickly. A light mist still clung to the ground, even though it was almost noon. The sun shone weakly today.

  There were several wayfarers on the road, heading into and out of town. The people paused in their tracks, gazing upward in disbelief. I focused on a clearing next to the road, filled with tall grass and summer mountain flowers in red, yellow, and white. It appeared to be a fallow field. It was the only likely landing spot for miles, as most of the land was thickly forested.

  We passed over the road, perhaps two hundred feet above ground. I swiveled the ship to face the road again, sustaining it at a hover. I then weakened the thrust, causing the ship to descend slowly. I cut the thrusters just before we hit the ground. The ship wound down, the fusion engine idling.

  I got up, and without a word, Pallos followed me into the wardroom.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “ALL RIGHT,” I SAID. “THOSE coming with me are Isa, Fiona, Shara, and the Elders Isandru and Tellor.” I paused. “And Pallos. The rest will stay with the ship.”

  Samal made to protest, but Ret placed a hand on his arm. “We’ll make sure it stays safe.”

  I nodded. “Good. Don’t let anyone on board. If they get close, get on the intercom and tell them to go away.”

  “How do we do that?” Samal asked.

  “There’s an intercom button on the flight deck. Easy to find. Says intercom. Just press and hold to talk to people outside. Flipping it keeps it confined to the ship.” I looked around to make sure my orders were understood. “Any questions?”

  “None,” Shara said. “Simple enough.”

  “This should take a few hours at least,” I said.

  “And if it takes longer?” Ret asked.

  “Stay with the ship. Plans change, but you are to remain here no matter what happens. Understood? No one comes aboard who isn’t a part of the crew.”

  Once again, I wanted to leave the more inexperienced people behind. Not that they were in any way incapable, but the fact was, someone had to stay. Isandru and Tellor were older and wiser, and more experienced in diplomacy. Fiona was a Seeker and had received far more training than the initiates. Isa, while mostly untrained, had been with me through thick and thin, accompanying Isaru and me to Hyperborea. As far as I was concerned, she had been tested and had proven herself . . . not to mention the fact that she knew people here, a fact which would prove itself useful. Shara was strong as well, practically as strong as a Seeker, though she’d had no Sanctum training.

  The others would remain behind.

  And Pallos . . . well, he was here because he had thrown a fit.

  “We should get moving,” I said.

  Samal and Nabea were staring hard at Pallos, probably wondering why he could come while they couldn’t. Thankfully, no one questioned me right there and then, because I didn’t have a great reason.

  I pressed the exit button and the door slid open. The boarding ramp had already extruded, leading to the grassy meadow below. A small group of laborers and farmers had gathered outside, shirking back as we exited. Their eyes went to our weapons as they murmured excitedly.

  “Please stand back,” I said. “We won’t hurt you.”

  They pulled back even further, a good half of them jumping in fear when the blast door slid shut with a hiss.

  I looked at the assembly, which had quieted under my gaze.

  “We’ve come to speak to the village council,” I said. “Can any of you take us to them?”

  No one responded. Their eyes continually went to the ship, then back to me.

  “Yes, this is an airship, just like in the stories. Now, if any of you could just point me in the right direction . . .”

  A brown-haired girl, about the same age as Isa, spoke up from the back. “Council only meets on Saturdays.”

  “She’s right,” Isa said from next to me.

  I nodded. “Lead me to wherever they meet, nonetheless. The rest of you, find them. This is a dire emergency. Lives are at stake.”

  “Who are you to ask this?” a portly farmer with a thick, gray beard asked. One eye was half-shut as he scrutinized me. “What emergency is there?”

  “I’m qualified because I just came back from Ragnarok Crater,” I said. “An army of dragons could be headed this way.”

  There was a collective gasp from the crowd, and people began to break away, running toward the town to spread the news.

  “That got their attention,” Fiona said.

  “Isa, where does the Council meet?”

  “The Springstream Inn,” she said. “I can lead you there.”

  Pallos looked out over the crowd appraisingly. His eyes were excited. That worried me. This wasn’t a game; people’s lives were at stake.

  I nodded. “Let’s move before this turns into an all-out panic.”

  * * *

  A large crowd had gathered at the wooden south gate. There were far more people here than the last time I was in Northold, and something told me that most of these people didn’t live here. They wore old, ragged clothes, and smelled something awful. Rows of tents lined the south palisade wall and along the side of the road.

  Isa looked at it worriedly. “Something’s wrong.”

  “Refugees,” Tellor said. “These people have the looks of farmers about them.”

  “Farmers who haven’t had a solid meal in days,” Isandru said, also worried.

  We pushed through the crowd, fighting our way through the gate. When we emerged onto the wide, dirt street beyond the wall, we found some space in the middle of an intersection to get our bearings. Crowds also flowed in the opposite direction, toward the outside—probably trying to get a look at our ship. None of them seemed to connect us with its landing. One man even pushed Pallos to make way. The engineer’s eyes went wide. He looked around at the low, wooden buildings and dusty streets, shock written on his face. It was the first time he’d seen an Elekai settlement, and something told me he thought it wasn’t much different than a zoo.

  “The Springstream is close to the center of town,” Isa said. “By the Preserve.”

  I assumed that the Preserve was the park that was located at the top of the hill Northold was built on. It was where Isaru and I had met Isa what seemed ages ago on our way to Hyperborea from Colonia.

  The crowds thinned as we went up the dirt road, though there were still far more people than I’d remembered. Various groups loitered outside of stores—anything from families to rough looking groups of men. Their faces were grimy, thin, and haggard. They looked at us with empty, hopeless eyes.

  “This isn’t the Northold I’m used to,” Isa said sadly.

  Some of the men stared at us hard. Something told me they would have bugged us if we didn’t have our weapons.

  There were more guards walking around than usual, but still, it wasn’t enough to keep the peace. From an alley, I heard a woman scream. I reached for my blade, only to see that it was two women fighting. A guard ran off the road to go enforce the peace.

  “Crime-infested,” Pallos said.

  “It’s not normally like this,” Isa said.

  Judging by how thin many of the people were, I knew that for many, evacuating again wouldn’t be an option. But wi
th the dragons, what choice did they have?

  “I never thought it would come to this,” Isa said, sadly. “My home is being ruined before my eyes.”

  No one responded. Isandru and Fiona kept alert. Armed as we were, it wasn’t likely that anyone would try anything.

  Ahead, the road ended at the top of the hill. In the tree-filled preserve, fires were burning around which people warmed themselves. Many of the trees had been cut for firewood.

  “This is it,” Isa said, pointing to a large wooden building on our left.

  A stately, two-storied thatched building stood before us, with wide, oak doors and a row of ten glass windows on each floor. Upon closer inspection, I saw that the lower windows had been barricaded and two of the windows on the second floor were smashed. Two burly men wielding clubs stood outside the door, but this hadn’t stopped the profane graffiti from being scrawled on the alleyway between the inn and the next building down the hill. The sound of hammers and nails could be heard above the din of the crowds, coming from within.

  Isa’s face reddened. “Animals.”

  She ran for the door, coming to a stop as the grim-faced guards stepped in front of the door.

  “Please. I need to speak to Mr. Barlon.”

  “Sorry, but none are allowed in,” one of the men said.

  “Wait,” the other one said, squinting at Isa. “You’re not . . . Lady Arnor’s daughter, are you?”

  “Yes. I’m Isa Arnor.”

  The two guards exchanged a glance before one of them responded to Isa.

  “Isa. Forgive us, we didn’t recognize you. There’s a bill for your safe return for five hundred talents.”

  “Who set the bill?” Shara interrupted.

  The guard looked at her, almost grudgingly. “Her mother.”

  “My mother . . .” Isa said. “Is she here”

  “I’m afraid not,” the man said. “She and the other gentlefolk left town a few weeks ago.”

  “Left town? For where?”

  “They fled south over the past few weeks,” he said. “I know little more.” He cleared his throat. “These people are worse than the monsters outside these walls. You came back at a bad time.”

  “I don’t see how she did come back,” the other guard said. “All the same, you must forgive us, Miss Arnor, but we have strict orders to let none through, and . . .”

  “Let her through.”

  Behind the guards stood a burly man, well-muscled, yet with a generous gut. Black hair grew thickly on his arms, and a thick, black beard covered his portly, pale face. He was the human version of a bear. While laugh lines stretched from his brown eyes, he did not look in the least amused now.

  “Mr. Barlon,” Isa said. “Thank you.”

  He nodded, his brown eyes shifting toward the rest of us. “Friends of yours?”

  Isa nodded. “Yes. We are to meet with the Village Council.”

  Barlon frowned. “Council? With all due respect, Ma’am . . . most of them have skipped town.” He grunted. “The mayor and several others have stayed behind, though.”

  “They just abandoned the people here?” I asked. “That’s disgusting.”

  “Aye, it is.” He gazed disapprovingly out at the town. “What’s left of them have been meeting in here most nights, as much interested in beer as saving the town.”

  “What do you mean?” Isa asked.

  He heaved a heavy sigh. “I suppose I can’t blame them. Between saving Northold and hiding in a mug of ale, only one of those tasks is possible.” He opened the oaken door wider. “Come in, come in. I know it’s not much of a welcome, but you can at least get inside where you don’t have to worry about the beggars and pickpockets.”

  “Pickpockets?” Isa said. She shook her head sadly. “What has it come to?”

  “You’ve been away too long, Miss Arnor,” Mr. Barlon said. “All will be explained.”

  We were ushered inside the Springstream. The inside was dim, lit only by a few weak lanterns hanging from the walls and ceiling. Normally, the windows probably would have been opened to admit light, but boarded as they were, it was as dark as a cave. A bar stood directly in front of us, long enough to fit fifteen or so stools. Off to the right was a lounge area that looked welcoming enough. There were benches with pillows, rocking chairs, and a thick bear pelt set before a fireplace, in which a fire roared. A fat, orange cat lazed on an armchair by the fire, half-asleep and altogether unconcerned with the chaos unfolding outside. The inn could easily have held fifty people or more, and yet most of that space was going to waste.

  “You said the Council is due to arrive?” Mr. Barlon asked, shutting the door behind Elder Isandru, to whom he bowed respectfully.

  “Well, we got the word out,” Isa said. “Hopefully they get here soon.”

  “And if I might be so bold . . . what is the reason for your visit, Miss Arnor?”

  “I’ll leave that to my friend, Shanti.”

  She gestured toward me, and Mr. Barlon’s eyes went wide. “Forgive me. None of us have been properly introduced. I’m Barlon, Abel Barlon.

  “Pleased to meet you,” I said. I gestured to the Elders first. “These are Elders Isandru and Tellor of the Seekers’ Sanctum.”

  Mr. Barlon’s eyes widened. “I am esteemed and greatly humbled by your visit, good sirs.”

  “We’re honored as well,” Tellor said gruffly.

  “This is Seeker Fiona, also of the Sanctum.”

  Fiona gave a short bow.

  “My friend, Shara,”

  Shara bowed her head slightly.

  “And this is Pallos, a member of our crew, and representative of the Shen Empire.”

  “The Shen Empire,” Barlon said, smiling nervously. “A pleasure, I’m sure.”

  Pallos nodded diplomatically.

  “Welcome, welcome,” Barlon said. “Please, be seated. I’ll get food for you all, post-haste, and there is warm ale or cool pear cider should you prefer, from our winter stores. Let me find my son and have those drinks poured. Does anyone have a preference?”

  “Cider, if you would be so kind,” Isandru said.

  Everyone nodded for the same, and Mr. Barlon turned and headed for the bar.

  As we seated ourselves, Barlon opened a door in the back and shouted, “Jeb!”

  Not half a second later, a thickset boy appeared from the door behind the bar. “Yeah?”

  “Bring a keg of cider out of storage, would you?”

  He nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  Mr. Barlon turned around, all smiles again. “Forgive that. My son . . . he often doesn’t hear me. I’ll have my wife cook some soup and crusty bread, and—”

  The door to the inn suddenly open, revealing one of the guards who had been standing outside. Before Barlon could protest the interruption, the guard spoke.

  “Mr. Altham is outside. He said a meeting was needed with the airship captain?”

  Barlon’s thick eyebrows shot up. “Airship captain?”

  “That would be me,” I said.

  Barlon frowned, puzzled.

  “It’s true, sir,” the guard put in. “I’ve yet to see it with my own eyes, but half the town is talking about it!”

  “More than half,” the other guard added.

  “An airship? What sort of joke is this?”

  “It’s no joke,” Elder Isandru said. “We arrived just half an hour ago.”

  “I see. Well, the world is already mad, so what’s the harm in it getting a little madder? An airship it is.” He gave a high, frenzied laugh that didn’t quite fit his size. “Very well.” Barlon let out a heavy sigh. “Mayor Altham!” he boomed.

  Unnoticed before, standing behind the guards outside, was a short man, with a brown beard, medium-length hair, and thick glasses. He coughed as he stepped into the dimness of the inn. He blinked as his eyes adjusted before he regarded the six guests seated beside the fire.

  “That’s Mathis Altham,” Isa whispered to me. “He’s been mayor here longer than I’ve been ali
ve.”

  “This is them, then.” Mayor Altham surveyed us calmly. Then, to Barlon, he said, “The others are on their way, I assure you.”

  “You’re the mayor?” I asked. As I stood, the others stood with me. “Shanti Roshar, Captain.”

  “Captain Roshar. It is a pleasure.” He looked me over up and down. “A bit young, but I can’t deny what the people are saying. Let me come closer, that we might see one another better.” He stepped forward, talking all the while. “There are seven of us on the Council, including Mr. Barlon here.” He looked at my companions, whom I introduced in turn. When I reached Isa, the size of his eyes doubled behind his glasses.

  “Isa Arnor,” he said. “Forgive me, I didn’t see you there.”

  “It’s good to see you, Mayor,” she said.

  “You mother—”

  “—Yes, I know. She’s left the city.”

  “I see you’ve been caught up.”

  “We’re glad you could see us on such short notice, Mayor,” I said. “With everything going on.”

  “Well, it’s been one crisis after another for the past few weeks,” he said with a humorless chuckle.

  I hesitated a moment before answering, “I regret to bring news of another, then.”

  Altham frowned. “Well . . . allow me to have a drink before we discuss. Something tells me I’m going to need it.”

  As if that comment were a summons, Jeb reappeared with a modest-sized cask on his right shoulder. He was panting, as if he had lugged it up a set of stairs. He set it on the bar and began to fill mugs.

  “We’re all working together to a prevent a crisis, just like you, Mayor Altham.” I went on, never minding the ‘waiting for a drink bit’, “Except this crisis threatens to extend far beyond the Northern Wild.”

  “I see,” Mayor Altham said.

  Jeb walked over with a tray, bearing six frothing mugs of amber cider. He handed each of us one before returning to the bar.

  Altham took a long draught. “I’d like to get down to business as soon as possible. I’m not sure if the others are going to make it here, and time is of the essence. Abel and I can relay any information you give us. We’re scheduled to meet this evening.”