Glitch Kingdom

by Sheena Boekweg

  “How do we know this isn’t poison?” Tomlinson asked. “How do we know she’s not sent you here to kill us all?”

  “I will drink with you,” the cleric answered.

  Not enough. Still, curiosity drove me forward. I lifted Lord Reginal’s cup to my nose and sniffed. It smelled clean and fresh, almost sweet. I gave it back.

  The cleric lifted her eyebrow. “It is an honor to drink seer water. No one outside our island has ever been offered of our spring, and this we freely give to you. There will be no price.”

  I clenched my jaw. “The Savak always have a price.”

  She acknowledged my anger with a softened look. “At least not for you. If the queen finds me, my life will be forfeit for smuggling this water and for giving it to you. But I shall give my life gladly. For there is a future you must see. A future we must avoid. And we can, but only with your help.”

  The Historians stepped closer.

  Father had been still. Considering. “What do you say, General?”

  General Franciv considered her cup. Her dark hair framed one side of her face, but the other was shaven close to her scalp. Her crisp white uniform was similar to a common Everstrider uniform, except for the rows of jeweled awards on her lapel, and the line of black kohl from her forehead to her neck.

  “If her life is forfeit anyway, there is no guarantee of our safety. It could be poison, or a trap. If it’s poison, they would take out the spine of our kingdom in one act. We can’t let our greed destroy us—”

  “It’s not greed,” Lord Reginal interjected, his voice polished from all the time he spent in the university. He tugged at his fine collar, and his gray mustache twitched beneath his wide nose. “The pursuit of knowledge is never greed. If we can learn our future, we can change it for the better. I vote we drink.”

  “Well, I will not,” I replied. “Father, I would not trust a Savak to post a letter, let alone drink their piss—”

  Tomlinson coughed.

  No heathen war. Right. I bowed my head and said nothing.

  “We must face the future. Together,” the cleric said. “Or we will not survive.”

  “If she’s lying, it’s a risk,” Sir Tomlinson said. “But if there is a chance danger is coming, it may be worth it.”

  I tapped the table. “Then we let a servant drink. Someone we trust.”

  The cleric looked about. “Only a chosen few are worthy of our goddess’s tears. It must be this council.”

  “A king never asks a servant to take a risk he would not take.” Father’s gaze was sharp.

  I tensed, my tongue slid over my teeth, and I refused to look at anything except the shining wooden surface of the table.

  Father was wrong. A king’s life was worth more than a servant’s. My father never listened to me when it came to the greater good. He only summoned the King’s Executioner when the taking of one life would save hundreds. He couldn’t see that if we smashed a threat when it was small, the kingdom would be at peace.

  Mother folded her hands. “I’d rather trust and be prepared.”

  “Trusting an enemy is a good way to get killed,” I warned.

  “If we only take knowledge from those who agree with us, we will be led into a trap of our own making,” Mother said. “We can’t let our biases leave us blind.”

  “I’ve reached my decision,” Father announced. “Kings must have longer memories than generals or sons. I know the source of their spring’s magic and I do not fear it. I will drink.”

  I dropped my hands. “Father, no.”

  Our people would not approve of this. After the hibisi, my people saw the Savak as murderers, as monsters more foul than any Lurcher. To side with one and share seer water with a cleric? It wasn’t just blasphemy. To many of our people, this would be treason.

  “As king, I must know what threatens my people.” He sighed. “Be brave, my son.”

  The general reached for her cup. “My king. Wait.”

  She dipped her kohl-darkened fingertips into the cup and drew them to her pale mouth. She paused as she tasted, then she licked her lips and gave a brief sniff. “I am nothing if not brave. I will drink with you.”

  They all ignored my warnings. I might as well not have even been there, if they weren’t going to take my counsel over a Savak cleric’s.

  The cleric smiled and lifted her glass. “To a new future,” she toasted.

  She pressed the cup to her lips, and the rest of the council, including Father, followed her example.

  I watched, in horror, as my parents fell victim to the seer water’s pull. Their eyes rolled upward, flashing white, their skin paling to a soft gray. The council slumped in their chairs. Lord Reginal nearly fell off his.

  And they didn’t wake.

  I sped to my father’s side and struck his back. Once. Twice. Again.

  “Father. I beg of you. Wake up!” My pulse raced with a panic so sharp it seemed almost a memory. “Father!”

  I knew they shouldn’t have drunk. I knew they should have listened to me.

  My father’s guards rushed to the cleric’s side and held her bound. Those at the door lowered their weapons and searched about for something to do. The fools.

  “Get a doctor. Quickly!”

  The cleric never fell to her vision. Her eyes were clear as a mirror as the guards shoved her into the table. “He will awaken in twelve heartbeats,” she said, her voice strained.

  I didn’t trust her words. I couldn’t. She drank it too; why wasn’t she swept up in this vision? “What have you done to him? To all of them?”

  “Do not fear, Princeling. All will be well.”

  I wasn’t afraid, I was angry. Anger could sometimes make my heart pound, and my jaw quiver, and my throat tighten as if I was about to cry, but I was not scared. A future king was not allowed to be scared.

  Mother woke with a great cry. Oh, thank the light. She reached forward and drew me into a hug. Her arms trembled, and she held me too tight, her tears wetting my collar.

  I pulled back when Sir Tomlinson screamed himself awake, reaching for his sword and lifting it high above him, as if he were facing a monster. “You’re all right, Tomlinson,” I shouted. “It was just a vision. It wasn’t real.” His arm lowered slowly, and the sword clattered on the table. The sound awoke General Franciv. Her hands twitched to the dagger belted to her waist, before she fell to her knees and clutched her grip together as she prayed. Reginal’s eyes flashed open, and he held his fist over his mouth, fleeing from the table to be sick in a vase.

  Father woke, his face filled with grim resolution.

  I closed my mouth. I’d seen that look on my father’s face before. Once. When the sickness tore through my people. It was the look of a king at war.

  “What can be done?” he asked.

  The cleric extracted a large contract from the folds of her cape.

  “You must sign your kingdom to the queen of the Savak, and you must come with me. We will protect your people, and keep the oaths our creator gave us.”

  No one laughed now. Father only hesitated for a moment before laying his palm out in request for a quill.

  I stood. “Stop! That’s my kingdom you’re giving away.”

  “Not yet, my son.”

  “Not ever if you do this. You can’t just hand over our kingdom to the Savak?”

  “I feel the sting of this too, my son. But the cost of leaving is nothing if it stops what’s coming.”

  Mother stepped toward me. “If we bow to the Savak queen now, she will save our kingdom for last, and we can give assistance to our allies while she thinks us cowed. It is the only way we all will survive. It is our only path to peace.”

  “By giving her our armies?” They would not see sense. “We cannot leave.” My voice betrayed my emotion, so I cleared my throat and began again. “What will become of our people if you take our armies to other shores?”

  What would become of me?

  Father’s eyes softened. “You will keep them safe unt
il I return.”

  Me? “Against the Savak queen?” It was too much. “I can’t. I can’t do this. Not on my own.”

  “That is not all, my son. The only way to win this war is if you gather the Armor of Irizald before the queen of the Savak tracks it down.”

  I stilled at the mention.

  The Armor of Irizald was a secret we never spoke of beyond our family walls. The witch-made armor created a power immeasurable when all the pieces were combined. We should have destroyed it—it was too dangerous to continue to exist—but we could not. Instead, long ago, my grandmother separated the armor and hid each piece in far-flung locations, which only my father and I knew. It set my spine to ice to think of our armor in the Savak queen’s hands.

  My father gave me a nod. “Once you find the armor, the true heir will return to the Throne of Honor. Our kingdom will be restored.”

  Mother wiped her cheeks and stood. “Your uncle will help you until then. Get him to drink the seer water. He will manage the kingdom as you quest for the armor.”

  I crossed to my father’s side. “Father, no. Please. Whatever is coming, we can destroy it on our own. We can gather the armor together. You’d be invincible, no matter what weapon she aims our direction. We’ll face her as a united kingdom, not as servants to these heathens.”

  I waited for someone to correct me, but the room was silent.

  “It won’t be enough,” General Franciv said. “There is only one solution now. I’ve seen it. We must lead the charge from different shores.”

  “What?” The world shifted. If the general agreed, there was no one on my side. “Are you certain?”

  “It won’t be enough,” General Franciv repeated. “There is only one solution now. I’ve seen it. We must lead the charge from different shores.”

  Why would she repeat herself? The council stood still, as if they were waiting on me to make a choice. But what choice? Why would they be silent now?

  Was it possible the cleric was right? My people hated the Savak; they would not understand this. How was I supposed to change their opinion when it matched my own? How could I protect my people and gather the armor at the same time? Could this really be the only way?

  I leaned over my father’s shoulder and read the contract.

  WE, THE UNDERSIGNED, DO HUMBLY SWEAR OUR FIDELITY AND SUBMISSION TO THE HONORABLE MCKENNA SHARPWING CARRINGTON, QUEEN OF THE SAVAK. WE PLEDGE ALL BORDERS, RESOURCES, AND LEADERSHIP IN HER ESTIMABLE NAME, IN EXCHANGE FOR THE SAFE STEWARDSHIP OF OUR PEOPLE.

  WE DO SO PLEDGE UNTIL THE DAY OF BATTLE ENDS, AND THE RIGHTFUL HEIR SITS UPON THE THRONE OF HONOR.

  Treason.

  Cowardice.

  But in truth it was a distraction. The council would undermine the queen from within her circle, and buy me time to collect the armor.

  “All right,” I whispered. “I’ll do it.”

  A flare of light struck through the glass windows. I stood taller, like something had given me strength.

  A servant gave Father a quill and he signed. Father passed the paper to Mother, and she to the rest. My hands trembled and I shook my head.

  As they signed away my home, my title, and my future.

  As they left me with nothing but a family legend to protect my people from a war that was coming.

  And my uncle. He would love a chance to manage the kingdom while I searched for the armor.

  The trick would be to remove him once Father returned.

  “Can I trust Uncle to help me?”

  My parents shared a glance, but the cleric stepped forward. She placed the near-empty pitcher on the table.

  “Goddess bless us all if he does not drink.”

  2

  RYO

  My tutors never taught me the proper etiquette of abandoning one’s kingdom. Turns out it involves a grand helping of silence, and servants mooring the ship to the royal docks, while the harbor men work and whisper and watch.

  Mother pressed back a curl and kissed my hair. “Keep yourself safe.”

  She cocked her head to look at me, as if memorizing my face. My mother had fought a thousand battles, but never with a sword. She came from a far-off kingdom and she had to fight tooth and bone to gain the respect she’d earned at court. She could protect my father from this. She could protect herself.

  “I’ll try my best,” I whispered. This task had set my voice to hiding.

  “Thank you for doing this,” my mother said.

  The cleric unstrung the necklace from around her neck, lowering her hood over her shoulders to do so.

  “For when the time comes, Princeling.” She gave me a small blue glass sphere wrapped tight in metal filigree, strung between two threads. “It was drawn from our holy spring after our plans were made. If our plans succeed, you’ll see what you must do to find your victory.”

  “And if they don’t?”

  Mother broke the silence. “Then this is goodbye.”

  The sphere full of seer water hung heavy in my palm. A part of me wanted to drink it now, to know why my parents were doing this, and another part of me wanted to throw this sphere into the moons-lit waves.

  My father closed my fingers over the sphere. “Promise me, son,” he said. “Promise you won’t drink until you are sure nothing will stop you from finishing.”

  I met his eyes and nodded.

  He pulled me tight, his scruff scratching my neck, his hand clasped around the back of my head. When he leaned away, his cheeks were wet.

  Then they climbed into the boat, my parents touching their noses in prayer. The general gave me a salute, which Tomlinson copied, and I stood tall, trying to look like one who could accomplish this impossible task, not letting my doubt curl my shoulders or my spine. I slipped the necklace around my neck before I tucked it beneath my collar.

  And I turned my back on the people who were turning their backs on me. Alone, I made my way through the courtyard toward the stables. Whispering servants ducked away from me while watchful eyes peered from windows. A Whirligig, a pumpkin-sized mechanical with fluttering wings, rose from the mechanical shop, carrying gossip in its spinning gears. The news had begun to spread, soft and slow like kindling catching. I needed to enlist my uncle to our cause, before the city turned ablaze with words of a king’s treason.

  Uncle could help me douse this fire.

  Or he could fan the flames.

  I raced into the stables, after my mount. Sir Grigfen guffawed from a stall near mine. His foot was caught in the stirrup, and he was spilling coins and laughter as a servant tried to pull his boot from the metal.

  The tension in my neck loosened for a second. Grig’s grinning eyes met mine. “Ryo! Sorry I’m late, pal. I had the Undergod’s own luck at the Fisherman’s Haul. I got twenty coppers before some chap decided I was cheating and tried to…” He trailed off as he took in my expression. “Wait. What’s gone wrong?”

  I could give him no answer. “Nothing. I need to see my uncle.”

  “I’ll go with you. I’ve just got to figure out how to get back on this horse. Were they always this tall?” The servants pushed him back up onto his saddle.

  I didn’t answer him. I checked that the cleric’s leather bag tucked at my side still held the seer water and the contract, then I climbed astride my horse and kicked my heels.

  “What’s the rush, Ryo?” Grigfen asked as he struggled to keep pace. He’d always hated riding with me; he said I either needed to push my horse to a full gallop, or walk. Still, he smiled—I could not recall if I’d ever seen his face not in the midst of a toothy grin. His shaggy blond curls hung over his eyes, and his vest was unbuttoned, stains on his cravat. “You look like you’ve got a prank on countdown. Should I fetch the feathers?”

  “Har, har,” I muttered over the sound of our horses running at full gallop. “You don’t need to follow me.”

  He held the reins tight as we rode down the cobbled streets toward the Abbey. He squinted at me, his face shadowed in the torchlight. “The fact you keep sayi
ng that makes me think I need to. You look all squirrelly so I know you’re either heading toward trouble, or you’re heading toward a lot of trouble. Either way I’m not going to miss it.”

  He grinned and I almost smiled back. I’d like the company … no, I’d love the company, and I’d love to not be the only one who knew this secret; I also knew that word was going to spread, and once news broke … Mine was not the only father who had left.

  “You need to be with your family when the news breaks.”

  News was already spreading. Peasants stood at the edges of the road, calling out to us, but I did my best to ignore them. They’d find out soon enough.

  We reached the Abbey gates, and I dismounted. The Abbey chapel was walled with bones, fused together with iron smelted from swords donated with the bodies of soldiers. A circle of painted glass reflected the moons-light in the grand chapel, but I wouldn’t find my uncle in the chapel. I ran past the glowing building and around the back to the catacomb tunnels where the high priests and my uncle kept their offices. Grigfen followed close behind. As a child, we used to play in the hallowed hallways of the catacombs. Now I rushed forward through the catacomb doors, a sealed cup in one hand, and the bound parchment with my father’s signature in the other, trying not to vomit on the holy bone walls.

  My uncle would help me carry the load of this. Right now, we were the only ones leading this kingdom, and if we wanted to restore the rightful heir to the throne and protect our kingdom from the Savak, then my uncle and I needed to be united.

  I turned the candlelit corner to a maze of skull-topped hallways. How could I find my uncle in this catacomb? I usually preferred to wait in the main chambers, or in the chapel, let Uncle come to me when he could. But my uncle’s office was back here somewhere.

  Grig scratched the scruff on his chin and stopped me. “Oh. It’s serious, is it?”

  “It is.”

  “Then I’m not leaving.”

  I sighed. “Grig.”

  He folded his arms over his stomach. “You know, your pride is going to get you killed one day, and it’s my job as your best mate to protect you from your own self.”