Haladras

by Michael M. Farnsworth

  Morvath’s face was glowing, his eyes on fire. Imperceptibly, he had moved closer to Skylar. Standing before him thus, Morvath looked ten feet tall and as mighty as a war captain arrayed for battle.

  Skylar couldn’t help but feel awe toward this man, whom he’d been taught to fear. Though one part of him felt uneasy with Morvath’s plan, the other felt intrigued by it. It didn’t sound evil. It sounded...almost...good. Inequality banished? The sentiment rang true in his mind. Perhaps Lasseter truly had been wrong. Freedom? Morvath, too, spoke of freedom.

  Who was right, then? How could he know? Surely the quest for truth was not meant to be so difficult. Why should he have to decide? His thoughts felt heavy and muddled.

  Again, the memory of Grim came into his mind. He knew what Grim would have chosen. But, then, Grim was not the sort of man who needed governing. The idea struck him: if all men were like Grim—honorable, selfless, devoted, true—would there be a need for such strict governing—or any governing? Men like Grim do the right thing regardless of personal injury, because that’s who they are—not because anyone’s forcing them to do it. No amount of laws or enforcement of those laws could ever produce a man like Grim. Beasts of burden may be forced into obedience, but they are still only beasts. Is a man forced into equality and goodness any better?

  Few, if any, men were like Grim though. Ordinary men—most men—need governing. Was Morvath’s way the best for all?

  At last, Skylar made his decision. He didn’t know if it was the right answer. He couldn’t know. Unlike a mathematical calculation, there was no way of verifying his answer. Only time would tell, perhaps, if he chose aright. How many countless lives would be affected, bruised and damaged, before he knew the truth of it? Everything inside him wanted to believe Morvath, to abandon his quest. Reason told him he ought to. His tired feet and weary body told him he ought to. He opened his mouth to speak. And even as he did so, the words stuck on his tongue, as if the words knew he had chosen incorrectly.

  “I cannot join your cause,” he stammered out. “I cannot support this vision for the empire. I will not have it. I will fight against it.”

  Even as he uttered the words, Skylar could scarcely believe his own boldness. But giving voice to his decision solidified it in his heart.

  Morvath nodded and smiled. But it was a cold, malevolent smile.

  “I’m grieved to hear that, Korbyn. I could have helped you become a powerful ruler one day.”

  “I don’t care about having power, Morvath.”

  “Perhaps not yet, but all men have an urge for it. They can’t help it; it’s in their nature.

  “By the way,” he added, sounding unnervingly casual, “word has reached the king’s ears of some civil unrest—sedition even—on your own home planet of Haladras. I had hoped you might be at my side to help resolve the matter. Diplomatic solutions are always preferable to military intervention. Innocent lives are often lost when the latter is resorted to.”

  “Stay away from Haladras!” shouted Skylar. “The only thing wrong there is the empire stealing food out its people’s mouths.”

  Morvath only chuckled, unmoved. He called for the guards, who entered the room promptly.

  “See to it that this young man is locked up,” he said. “He’s threatened myself and the king. He’s a traitor to the empire.”

  The guards seized him by the arms and began dragging him toward the door.

  “Dwell on what I’ve told you, young man,” said Morvath, just before Skylar disappeared behind the door. “I’ll visit you tomorrow to see if you’ve reconsidered.”

  In a last effort of defiance, Skylar cried out, “Never!”

  The great carved doors slammed shut.

  The guards moved Skylar swiftly down a side corridor. Adrenalin coursing through his bloodstream, Skylar contemplated attempting an escape. He soon gave up that idea. The guards both carried large blasters.

  So much for Denovyn protecting me, thought Skylar bitterly. He wondered where Endrick and Lasseter had gone to. Would they even know what became of him? The guards led him outside. Though the morning had grown brighter, the air was still cold, and he felt as though he were still in Morvath’s presence. It took Skylar a moment to realize that they were not outside the capital building, but in one of its courtyards.

  There was no sign of anyone around. The only sound was their own footsteps on the cobbled pavement and the click and rattle of the guards’ armor. Across the courtyard, a squat, window-less building sat brooding like a storm cloud. High stone walls with solid iron gates rose on their left and right. Skylar was hemmed in on all sides. A few armored transports were parked by the south wall.

  Fearful that his chance of escape would vanish once they reached the dark building ahead, Skylar taxed his brain for a plan. Instinctively, his right hand reached for his jetwing, which still hung at it side beneath the cloak he wore. Flying was his only chance of getting away. But how could he divert the guards long enough to get off the ground?

  He had little time to think before a shout, followed by a crash from behind, made him jump in alarm. Skylar swirled around just in time to see the two guards crumple to the ground with a groan.

  “Knocking my own guards senseless to rescue a prisoner,” said Denovyn, as he tossed a steel cudgel to the ground and looked down at the guards. “What is the empire coming to?”

  Endrick stood beside the distressed lord, likewise wielding a cudgel.

  “They’ll thank you one day,” said Endrick wryly. “That is, if they ever forgive you. Perhaps it’s better you never tell them.”

  “Where did—” began Skylar, but the roar of a transport coming to life cut him off. He turned to find one of the armored transports coming to a stop just in front of them, the cloaked figure of Lasseter at the controls. The rear hatch of the transport swung open, and Endrick urged Skylar inside. Denovyn came behind and stood at the hatch.

  “Good luck, Prince Korbyn,” he said, “I shall keep your escape secret from the king’s demon as long as possible. But, by all means, make with haste to the port. You shall have my own ship, the Star Hawk at your disposal. Now go! I pray I shall have a chance to serve you as my king one day.”

  With that, Lord Denovyn closed the hatch and Skylar felt the transport lurch forward, accelerating rapidly as it crashed through the courtyard gates and careened into the streets of Arsolon.

  Skylar sat back, and rested his head against the transport’s interior, his heart beating fast with the excitement of their escape.

  “Well, well, we meet again, Skylar. Thanks to Morvath, you were almost rid of me.”

  Skylar jerked his head, startled by the familiar voice that undoubtedly did not belong to Endrick.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  SITTING IN A dim corner at the opposite end of the transport’s rear compartment was Krom. Instant relief and unexpected joy filled Skylar at the sight of his lost companion.

  “Krom!” he cried, “where did you come from? How did you get here? What happened to you?”

  The questions spilled out of Skylar’s mouth like water from a fountain. Krom held up his hand for Skylar to pause. A trace of a smile touched his lips. Evidently he was amused—if not pleased—by Skylar’s concern.

  “I am glad to see you, too, Skylar,” he said. “As to what happened to me, suffice it to say that when I met with Lord Denovyn and learned of Morvath’s presence in the capital house, I didn’t dare return to you for fear that Morvath’s spies would follow me. With Denovyn’s aid I managed to stay hidden. But I simply couldn’t risk rejoining you while Morvath remained in Arsolon.”

  “It is well, then, that we were caught,” said Skylar. “Otherwise, we would have certainly left you. Lasseter fully intended to.”

  “As he should have. Would that Morvath had never set eyes on you and that the whole of you were safely journeying to Allega at this very moment. We’ll have no cause for celebration until we’re off this planet.”

  They reached the port within a few s
hort minutes. Lasseter scouted out the area before deeming it safe for the companions to exit the transport. Attempting to appear inconspicuous, the companions casually filed out of the transport. Endrick took the lead, guiding the companions across a plaza busy with incoming and outgoing traffic, under a short covered walkway, and into the port’s hangar.

  By no means an expansive hangar, it housed but a dozen planet hoppers and just a few larger crafts.

  They strode past the ranks of smaller ships, making their way toward the opposite side of the hangar. They soon came to the crafts built for speed and longer journeys through space. The first of those was a craft as black as a moonless night, with cockpit windows shaped like the slit eyes of a snake. Skylar had no doubt as to what master this ship served. Beside it, in stark contrast, sat the sleek, silver form of a ship that could only have been the Star Hawk. It bore majestic wings and a short hooked nose, just like a hawk’s. It exuded confidence and prowess of flight. Skylar felt a thrill at having a chance to ride in such a craft.

  But Endrick did not stop at the Star Hawk.

  Puzzled, Skylar turned to Krom. “Is that not Lord Denovyn’s ship?”

  “I believe it is.”

  “Are we not boarding it, then?”

  “Denovyn’s offer was very generous. Endrick knows, however, that accepting will only bring more trouble for Denovyn. Lord Denovyn has already risked much for our sake—for your sake.”

  Disappointed, Skylar merely nodded. Flying in the Star Hawk might be grand, but he accepted the wisdom of this decision. Too many had already suffered for his sake.

  They soon came to the ship Endrick had hired the night before. At the sight of it, Skylar’s confidence fell. The Luna, as it was called, looked about as clunky and awkward as a flying moon. In size it was sufficient to carry a sizable load, but it looked less likely to reach its destination than the smallest planet hopper.

  A broad-shouldered man with a large round gut sat on a stool near the shuttle’s open hatch. Evidently he was the pilot. He recognized Endrick.

  “I expected you an hour ago,” he grumbled.

  “Our apologies, Captain,” said Endrick, sounding far from apologetic, “but some friends of ours threw us an unexpected farewell party.”

  All the more irritated, the captain of the Luna only grunted in reply.

  “We appreciate your patience,” added Krom with greater sincerity. “We were unavoidably detained. Time presses us greatly. May we embark at once?”

  The captain crammed an old leather cap onto his bald head and laboriously stood up.

  “A’ right masters, we embark.”

  The interior of the Luna was in as poor disrepair as the outside, if not worse.

  “Do you honestly believe this ship can make it to Allega?” whispered Skylar to Endrick.

  “No, but Grüny Sykes, our cranky captain, does.”

  Within minutes the Luna was taxiing out of the hangar and onto a launch pad. Every bolt and piece of metal rattled as the captain ignited the ship’s main thrusters. Skylar gripped his seat. The entire ship shook as if it would fall to pieces at any moment. Skylar clenched his teeth to prevent them from rattling as the Luna convulsed into the air and rocketed toward Fenorra’s stratosphere.

  After what felt like hours, Skylar released his grip on his seat and massaged his hands. His jaw and neck muscles relaxed. The Luna had escaped Fenorra’s atmosphere and now glided smoothly through space, away from Morvath.

  Endrick slapped Skylar on the back.

  “And you doubted she could do it...”

  “Yes, I still do,” replied Skylar, breathing normally again. “We still have to get there and descend through the planet’s atmosphere.”

  “Descending? I’ve no doubt the Luna can descend through anything. Staying in one piece...now that’s another matter.”

  “That’s enough, you two,” said Krom. “The ship will hold. In the meantime, let’s not be too lighthearted. Until we’re on Allega, under Lord Rowvan’s protection, we still have need of vigilance.”

  The pair nodded and grew quiet.

  Skylar’s thoughts turned to another matter, one that had been swirling in the back of his mind since his interview with Morvath. A tightness clenched his stomach. He must speak now. If he waited any longer it would likely be too late. He took a deep breath, then opened his mouth to speak.

  “I don’t want to go to Allega,” he said softly. “I want to go to Haladras.”

  A slight groan of impatience escaped Krom’s mouth.

  “I thought we settled this matter. You can’t go back to Haladras. You have no protection there. Did you not learn anything from Fenorra? You’re fortunate to be alive and out of Morvath’s clutches.”

  Skylar did not allow himself to grow angry, but continued emphatically, “Morvath told me he’s planning to go to Haladras.”

  “All the more reason for us to stay our current course.”

  “He said he’d heard of civil unrest among the people. He mentioned military intervention. There was menace in his eyes when he said it. I fear...I fear he’ll harm my people, perhaps those I care about most.”

  Krom looked at him with something akin to compassion.

  “But don’t you see, my boy, it’s a trap? A way to get to you? He’ll do whatever he can to have you.”

  “I thought of that. But I can’t let him hurt anyone else for my sake. Especially not Haladrians.”

  “He’ll do it too,” added Lasseter. “You know he will, old friend. Morvath failed to break Skylar’s will during that interview. Now he’ll try to do it by breaking Haladras.”

  “We can’t stop it, though,” cried Krom, “Not unless Skylar gives himself up. And that cannot be. Give him the whole empire forever if that. Besides, Morvath is too cunning to do something as reckless as blatantly attacking Haladras. That would incite true rebellion.”

  “All I know,” replied Skylar, “is that I felt a cold fear when he spoke of Haladras. He means to do them harm—I know it.”

  “He was only trying to weaken your will. The further away from Haladras and Morvath you are, the safer you and everyone will be.”

  “You don’t know that,” insisted Skylar, “You weren’t there. You didn’t hear the casualness in his voice while seeing his eyes flame with hatred. He means to work evil.”

  Krom did not immediately respond, but stared back at Skylar, contemplating.

  “You are both correct,” said Lasseter after a time. “Morvath will go to Haladras—of that I feel confident. That he intends evil, there can be no question. But in what form? Skylar may have ignited Morvath’s interest in Haladras. He cannot have failed to recognize its strategic importance. The empire’s dependence on Haladrian-exported teryleum has grown exponentially in the past five years. Lord Rowvan is the only force standing between Tarus and a complete iron-fisted regime. If Tarus seizes Haladras and cuts off exportation of teryleum to Allega, Rowvan will be hard pressed to sustain a lengthy campaign, should war break out.”

  There was that word again: war. The very sound of it knotted Skylar’s stomach. War and death were all the same in his mind. He had seen enough of death.

  “What are you suggesting, then?” said Krom.

  “Simply that we listen to the boy.”

  “To what end?”

  “To raise a rebellion. To fight for Haladras.”

  “You mean to die for Haladras. It’s suicide. Haladras cannot stand against the empire.”

  “It won’t be the empire. Morvath will not be expecting a resistance. He will not bring an entire army of soldiers.”

  Krom considered it for a moment, every feature in his face disliking the idea.

  “And why not go to Allega first? We could petition Rowvan’s aid in behalf of Haladras.”

  “There may not be enough time. It will take two days to travel there from our current position, another three from Allega to Haladras. We’ll need as much time as we can get to raise an army.”

  “Yes,” agreed S
kylar, “we must warn viceroy Aberforce as soon as possible.”

  Krom frowned and looked from Lasseter to Skylar.

  “And this is your desire, Skylar?”

  “I have no wish to fight. But I cannot bear the thought of anything happening to Haladras. My heart tells me that this is what I should do.”

  Shaking his head, Krom stood up and turned his back on the companions. He gazed out into space through one of the windows. After several minutes, he spoke, with his back still turned, his voice low and subdued.

  “It is a hard decision. I cannot see the answer clearly.”

  He turned around, his face looked ten years older.

  “The greatest safety for you lies in Allega. Yet to go there may ultimately lead to ruin. To go to Haladras...I fear nothing good will come of it. Indeed, all may be lost on Haladras. And yet, my heart is likewise turned toward Haladras. It is a course I tremble to take.”

  He went silent again, brooding, fighting inside for the answer.

  “The burden of choice is too great for me. Let it be as you desire. We go to Haladras.”

  “To Haladras,” echoed Lasseter.

  “Well,” interjected Endrick, “seeing that no one cares about my opinion on the matter, I’ll just go inform Grüny about the change of plans. Maybe he can talk some sense into the lot of you.”

  After berating Endrick severely with oaths and curses, the captain of the Luna agreed to change their destination to Haladras. He had little reason not to. Haladras was half the distance and Endrick had offered to still pay the original fee for their travel to Allega.

  * * *

  The Haladrian sun bore down on the companions the moment they stepped off the Luna. It threatened to bake them alive as they strode across the steel grated deck in their thick paqua-hair cloaks. After nearly a fortnight exposed to the colder climates of Quoryn and Fenorra, Skylar felt as though Haladras had grown hotter in his absence. Of course, the heavy cloak did not help matters. Krom had forbidden him from letting anyone know of his presence of Haladras until he deemed it necessary.