Ember's End

by S D Smith

  “There’s much to tell, Picket, but you can thank old Jone for my recovery when she arrives,” Uncle Wilfred said, giving a final squeeze to his nephew’s neck. He broke free and turned to face Emma. “But first I must share urgent intelligence. Forgive me, but that’s why I insisted on the interruption, Your Highness,” he said, bowing once again.

  “Please, go on.” Emma stood up.

  Uncle Wilfred bowed, then cleared his throat. He looked to the door just as Jo, Cole, and Heyna came in. Lord Blackstar stood. “Your Highness, I found Jo in the forest, then caught up with the Blackstars at the west gate. They learned that Bleston’s second son, Naylen, recently arrived with vast reinforcements. Prince Naylen has emptied their lands of soldiers, and their coming makes the Terralain strength nearly twice what it was. Tameth Seer is rallying the army to attack.”

  “Attack?” Emma asked, frustration vivid in her drawn face. “Attack where? Who?”

  “Here, Your Highness,” Uncle Wilfred said. “They mean to attack you here and unite rabbitkind behind Kylen. Then Tameth Seer will finalize a new alliance with Morbin.”

  “When?” Helmer asked.

  “At dawn. They attack at dawn.”

  Chapter Five

  FLIGHT FALL

  Picket gazed out over the city from the roof of the palace.

  “Are we sure this is the only way?” Lord Ronan asked, fingers raking through the fur between his ears.

  “There are other ways,” Emma said, fastening a strap tighter, “but they are too slow.”

  “It’s a terrible gamble, but she must go,” Mrs. Weaver said, pulling a cloak more tightly around her shivering shoulders. “It’s a risk she must take.”

  Picket and Emma, alongside Cole and Helmer, were being outfitted with Heyward’s gliders. Mrs. Weaver, Weezie, Lord Ronan, Lieutenant Warken, Captain Brafficks, and Heyward were helping with the preparations.

  “We have more gliders near completion. Production is proceeding rapidly.” Heyward’s blue robe rippled in the breeze as he checked the princess over with keen attention to every buckle, strap, and fastening. “I do have one more here, Your Royal Highness, and I’d dearly like to go myself.”

  “No, Heyward,” Emma said, glancing at Picket. “I need you here. Your preparations must go on. And anyway, we’re not going to defeat the Terralains in arms. Five of us or four—it makes little difference. I only just got Heyna to leave me.”

  “Yes, ma’am. It’s all secure now, Your Highness,” Heyward said, bowing neatly. “Just, please, stick close to Picket.”

  “How did you get Heyna to let you go without her?” Picket asked.

  “She’s fiercely loyal, but obedient as well,” Emma replied. “I sent her and her father to investigate some rumors. A strange group was sighted by a patrol.”

  “What was strange about it?”

  “It might have my mother in the group.”

  Picket’s eyes widened. “Lady Glen, coming here?”

  “I hope so,” Emma said. “If it is her, I don’t want her walking into a trap—or a tomb. I sent them after her.”

  Picket nodded, then turned back to the group. “Are we ready?”

  They each nodded, but Helmer looked miserable.

  “Are we sure Picket should be going?” Lord Ronan asked. “They do want to kill him.”

  “Apparently they want to kill us all, my lord,” Picket answered, stepping closer to Emma. “They may be grateful I’m saving them the march.”

  “No one can fly like Picket,” Helmer said. “I wish we didn’t, but we need him. I know I’d have preferred to never try this contraption again. But the princess must go. And so must I.”

  “And I,” Picket echoed.

  “And I,” another voice sounded from behind the shed atop the palace. Jo Shanks stepped out. “I mean, I’m coming too.”

  “I thought you were being evaluated at the hospital?” Emma asked.

  “Surprisingly, it didn’t take very long,” Jo said, smiling. “Believe me, Emma—I mean, Your Highness—you’re going to need me on this little trip.”

  Emma frowned but nodded for him to join them.

  As the urgent—desperate—plans were being made to get Emma to the Terralain camp, Uncle Wilfred had volunteered to lead the escort of the last group leaving First Warren for the hoped-for safety of Harbone. Emma had checked Uncle Wilfred over, marveling at his recovery, and then agreed to his request.

  Picket had spent only a few moments with his beloved uncle before they both left again to fulfill their assignments, Uncle Wilfred to Harbone, and Picket to prepare for this flight with the princess.

  Weezie added a few supplies to Picket’s tight-slung pack and hugged him. “Be careful, Pick.”

  “I’ll see you soon,” Picket replied.

  “I’ll wait for you here,” she said, kissing his cheek. Emma looked out into the night sky.

  Weezie crossed to hug her uncle, and Helmer asked her to look after Airen.

  Emma stepped closer to Picket as Weezie said goodbye to Helmer.

  “How are you doing?” Picket asked.

  “I don’t want to do this,” Emma whispered, smiling back. “But neither did I ever want to be queen. I never dreamed of flying, or of ruling. But here I am.”

  “Dreams do … not come true,” Picket whispered back.

  “Inspiring,” Emma said flatly. “That’s going in my book of Shuffler’s Collected Wisdom. I’m going to write it after the war—really show Heather who’s the true scribe.”

  “You’ll be queen, so you can do whatever you want.”

  “Obviously, yes. If being a princess is anything like it, then yes; I’ll be able to do whatever I want … all the time.”

  “Ready to fly?” Jo stepped near after his new glider pack was checked.

  “Ready,” Emma said. “Just really, really ready.”

  “It’s been her dream,” Picket whispered to Jo, loud enough for Emma to hear.

  “Since I was just a little doe, pretending to be a princess,” Emma said flatly.

  “Hmm,” Jo said, raising an eyebrow. “Dreams really do—”

  “Let’s get going,” Emma interrupted.

  “Leapers guide you, Your Highness,” Weezie said, bowing low.

  “Thank you, Louise,” Emma replied.

  The rest of the court who were gathered atop the palace bowed, and Heyward touched his eyes, ears, and mouth in turn, as did a few others. Emma raised her hand in a blessing, then, balling it into a fist, turned to the edge of the palace.

  “Just like we discussed, Emma,” Picket said. “It’s run and jump, then arms out stiff, wrists twisted in, or forward, to engage the glider. Disengage by twisting your wrists out, or back. I’ll be right behind you in case anything goes wrong.”

  “I could give some advice,” Jo said. “Had a pretty eventful flight a bit earlier.” He looked around, but no one was paying attention. “Okay, I get it. Let’s just focus on Picket here. By all means.”

  “Have you heard the songs?” Picket asked, feigning a lofty tone.

  “More times,” Jo replied with a sigh, “than I could have ever believed possible, Captain Packslayer.”

  Picket smiled. “Are you ready?” he asked Emma. She nodded. “Okay, on the count of—” he began, but Emma took off, darting toward the palace rooftop threshold. “Okay, let’s go!” Picket shouted as Emma leapt from the edge.

  Picket was right behind her, diving into the darkness in Emma’s wake. Behind him he could hear Helmer, Cole, and Jo take flight, but his attention was all ahead as he watched Emma stretch her arms out wide and engage the glider. As he had expected, during the first moments after the device went taut she wobbled and dipped, struggling to master the strange, exhilarating trial of flight.

  They were flying. He trailed behind Emma as she circled above the torchlit city, sweeping left and right as she tested the glider’s operation. Picket was pleased with her prowess, and he looked back at Jo, who seemed to be okay despite his earlier ex
ertions. A quick glance at Helmer convinced Picket that he should keep an eye on his master more than on the new flyer. But Picket saw that Cole had drifted behind Helmer and was leaving Jo’s side to focus on the older buck. Well done, Cole.

  He was smiling when he turned back to check on Emma, but his smile disappeared quickly when all he saw was empty air before him.

  The princess was gone.

  Chapter Six

  FOLLOWING

  Picket, in a panic, scanned left and right, then down. Nothing.

  Desperately, he gazed into the gloom. Finally, in the deepening darkness below, Picket caught a glint of torchlight reflecting off what he thought might be a buckle. He twisted his wrists to disengage the glider and pointed his body like a spear.

  Down, down, he fell, dropping toward the faded flicker, wind pressing the fur of his face, his mind pushing out the grim insistent doubts and the despair beneath them. He focused and fell, making himself a plunging bolt aimed at the thin strands of his hope.

  Scanning as he sped down, his eyes adjusting to the deep darkness, he spotted her at last. She was dropping still, descending limply toward the ground. He cut the arc of his descent, banking hard straight for the ground. Then, angling ahead to intercept the falling form, he engaged the taut wings for a fractional moment. Releasing the mechanism quickly once again, he swept just above the ground to meet Emma, seizing her as his momentum bent upward to offset, even a little, the weight of her plummet.

  Picket caught her, but she was falling so fast that he barely held on as they both fell again, slowed somewhat by his upward thrust. Their terrible wreck seemed certain, and Picket braced for the crash, doing all he could to fold Emma into a protective embrace.

  Just before impact, he felt strong hands grasp and pull him back roughly. Opening his eyes again, he saw Jo’s face, straining to arrest their speed. Cole was beside him, and both bucks had somehow checked his pace, so that Picket was able to land in a rough tumble, turning again and again but without serious hurt to himself or Emma.

  Jo hit the ground behind them and rolled in an ungainly tangle, while Cole glided to a smooth landing, never breaking stride as he ran up to Picket and Emma.

  “Are you okay?” Cole called, bending to cradle the princess’s head in his hands.

  Picket groaned and shook his head, trying to see clearly. “Is she?”

  “I think so,” Cole said, lightly slapping her face. “Your Highness! Emma!”

  Emma’s eyes opened slowly, and she squinted, then squirmed back and cried out. “Oh, no!”

  “It’s okay,” Cole said gently, gripping her arms and looking calmly into her face. “You’re all right, Your Highness. You passed out while gliding. You fell, but you’re on the ground again, safe. It’s easy to do. It’s happened to others.”

  Jo walked up, rubbing his head, as Picket got slowly to his feet, testing his knee.

  “I’m just glad you’re okay.” Picket leaned back and breathed deeply. His heart was still racing.

  “It’s embarrassing.” Emma frowned, smoothing her fur. “Maybe … don’t tell anyone.”

  “We would never,” Jo said. “I mean, half the city saw it happen, but I’m sure they won’t say a thing. It’s night and they should be asleep, not watching their ruler faint and fall like a stone.”

  “And there’s a code among us Fowlers,” Picket said, looking into her eyes and checking for signs of injury. “We don’t tell anyone else when something like this happens. Besides, it happened to Helmer.”

  “It feels like you just told me,” Emma said, “one of the things you say you never tell.”

  “The rules are fluid,” Cole said, smiling. “The Fowlers are a relatively new institution. Our fainting founder gave birth to us very recently, as you know.”

  “Helmer?” Jo asked. “I thought I was the Fowlers’ founder.”

  “Where is Helmer?” Picket asked, turning around and peering into the night.

  An anxious cry, followed by a noise of crashing punctuated with curses, came from the darkness nearby.

  “Found him,” Jo said.

  “Go find the founder, Fowler,” Picket said, helping Emma to her feet. “Cole, give him a hand.”

  Jo smiled and saluted before hurrying toward the angry sounds in the dark. Cole, shaking his head, followed.

  “Are you okay, Emma?” Picket asked. “You can’t get too upset by it. Rabbits sometimes faint. It can’t be helped.”

  “I’m fine,” Emma answered. “It’s not the scariest thing I’ve done lately.”

  “I suppose you haven’t had the easiest time.”

  “I’m in charge, Picket,” she said. “It’s awful. The weight of it. It’s impossible.”

  “But you’re great at it.”

  “I’m not the worst,” she said.

  “Well, it’s no great shame you’re not a flyer,” Picket said. “We just need a new plan.”

  “What are you talking about?” she asked. “I’m getting back up there. I’m trying again. I’m flying again. Let’s go.”

  “Emma, I can’t just let you—” Picket began, but she held up a hand.

  “I’m not asking, Shuffler,” Emma said. “Remember, I’m in charge. I’m going to meet Kylen. We have to try to stop this attack. Let’s get to the launch site and get on our way. We have work to do.”

  Picket bowed and followed her.

  Chapter Seven

  NIGHT FLIGHT

  Picket grimaced as they hurried up the old stone stairs in the dark. A soldier bearing a torch met them halfway up, calling out a warning.

  “Who goes?”

  “A herald!” Cole stepped in front of Emma.

  “Report,” the soldier demanded.

  “You did well to require the password, soldier,” Helmer said, “but give us the torch and hurry back up and tell them the princess is coming. And look lively, or I may decide to knock your young fluffy backside down these stairs.”

  “Yes, sir, Lord, sir … Captain Lord, sir,” the soldier stammered, eyes wide, as he handed the torch to Cole and turned to bolt back up the steps.

  Picket struggled up the stone stairs, his knee aching with the effort. There was no railing he could use to pull himself up, and he strained to see the steps in the darkness. The torchlight helped, but as they ascended, he saw that many of the steps had been damaged in the battle. Jo stepped closer to him while Cole, Helmer, and Emma went ahead.

  “Looking out for a poor crippled soul?” Picket asked.

  Jo nodded, taking Picket’s arm. “I seem to remember a certain soul helping me when I was in a tough spot not too long ago. Not too far from here, in fact.”

  “Sounds heroic. Lending an arm to help him walk up steps seems a fitting response to his bravery,” Picket murmured.

  “Well, now we’re even,” Jo said.

  Picket nodded with a smirk, and they hurried up the stairs.

  In a few minutes they were poised upon five catapults. Lieutenant Meeker was in charge of this battery. Years ago, Meeker had been a young soldier under Helmer’s command. So young, they had called him “Meeker the Squeaker.” They had met again recently after Helmer and Picket barely escaped from a pack of wild wolves, just getting inside Harbone Citadel, where Meeker was serving as gate commander.

  “Remember, Lieutenant,” Picket said, “send me right after the princess.”

  “We will, Captain Longtreader.”

  “Are you ready, Your Highness?” Meeker asked.

  “Yes, Lieutenant,” she replied, her hand testing the tension in her harness. “You may launch when ready.”

  Meeker bowed, then turned to the catapult holding Helmer. He saluted the old soldier but turned away when he saw how nervous Helmer was.

  “Squeaker,” Helmer said, his voice unsteady.

  Meeker turned back, and Picket thought the young officer was bracing for a rebuke. “Yes, sir?”

  A pause, and Picket watched his master fix Meeker in his sights.

  “I’m proud
of you.”

  Meeker smiled, saluted, then nodded to the bucks stationed at each catapult’s release catch. “On my signal,” he said, raising his hand. “Go one!” he cried, and Emma’s catapult arm raced forward, sending the princess sailing skyward. “Go two!” Picket felt the pressure of the sudden force against his body generated by the leaping arm, then the thrilling ease and speed as he sprang into the sky. Behind, he barely heard Meeker call out, “Go three; go four; go five!” and the entire team was away, speeding through the night sky. Ahead, he saw Emma reach her elevation apex, then calmly engage the glider and fly steadily on. He did the same and, his flight slowed by only slightly less drag, soared up beside her.

  Emma was mastering the glider, and he was relieved and delighted to see it. Glancing back, he saw that Cole and Jo flew capably on either side of Helmer, who wobbled as he went but stayed on their course. The bright moon revealed a pale view of the land below. They were following the course of an old road, keeping it always to their right. The Terralain camp was just inland of the road, northwest of First Warren and southeast of Harbone. Jo and Cole had said their flight would not be long, and, depending on the wind, the gliders should get them all the way there.

  Picket saw lights in the middle distance and glanced over at Jo. Jo nodded, then dipped and rose, and dipped and rose again. That was the signal for their descent. Emma nodded, then began to increase the drag on her glider and angle down. Picket watched anxiously, but after a few small mistakes she mastered the descent as she had the launch. Jo and Cole took the lead. They dropped low and landed in a clearing not far from the firelights.

  Emma kept her feet as she landed, and Picket swept up in an easy flip to land smoothly beside her. “Shuffler the Showoff,” she said as he limped up, detaching the back rod, unbinding the two parts, and folding the glider into its pack.

  “I’m just taking care of my leg,” he protested, helping Emma with her glider pack.

  She rolled her eyes. “It’s possible not flipping before landing might be easier on your injured knee. But what do I know of such things?”