The Almost King

by Lucy Saxon

  ‘Why don’t you try your luck down South?’ Maxim suggested. ‘They say that’s where every man goes to make his fortune.’

  ‘Don’t go putting foolish ideas in his head, Max,’ their mother scolded, smacking him on the shoulder. ‘He’s just a boy!’

  Aleks wondered how his mother could consider him a boy and yet push him to marry and have children at every given opportunity.

  ‘How would a brat like him survive in the South?’ their father asked, laughing. ‘He’d need money for food and board, and there’s no telling how long it’ll take to get a job!’ Aleks felt himself flush in indignation.

  ‘I could do it,’ he insisted. ‘I’d do brilliantly in the South. They’d call me the King of Rensav.’ His father laughed even harder, giving him a look.

  ‘There’s already a king in Rensav, lad, and he’s a darn sight more worldly-wise than you are. What do you know about cities? You’ve barely even seen one!’

  That was true, but Aleks wasn’t going to agree with him. He’d only ever been to Osir twice, and the city in the West was barely half the size of the Southern city of Rensav.

  ‘I can learn,’ he protested defiantly. ‘Thank you, Maxim, that’s exactly what I’ll do. It’s about time I made my way in the world.’ Even just thinking about it, his blood rushed with excitement at the prospect of travelling, of seeing parts of Siberene he’d never seen before. And not having him around would solve some of his parents’ financial troubles. ‘I’ve got the money I saved up from working in the tunnels – that should last me until I get a new job, if I’m careful with it.’

  ‘Storms, boy, you’re actually serious about this, aren’t you?’ Torell asked quietly, stunned. Aleks nodded, jaw squared in determination. There was even a small skyship port in Rensav; maybe there he could finally fulfil his dream of flying.

  ‘Might finally stop you yammering on about wanting to see the world,’ Maxim said, shrugging. ‘Good luck to you.’ His tone was sceptical but Aleks ignored it, along with the looks on his parents’ faces. One day his family would stop underestimating him.

  5

  Now: Rensav

  Aleks didn’t know how long he’d spent in the time-out room, but when Shulga let him go he could barely crawl through the door. Every inch of his body throbbed with pain, and he felt sticky with blood in places he didn’t like to think about. Shulga had been careful to avoid the soft areas – his death from internal bleeding in the lieutenant’s care would be hard to explain away – but that had left him with plenty of other options.

  Drawing in a long, laboured breath, Aleks ran a hand through his blood-matted hair, clenching his jaw. Enough was enough; if he stayed at the army base any longer he’d be dead before the week was up. He had to do something, and he had to do it fast. And as much as Commander Antova would have liked it, throwing himself off the cliffs wasn’t the answer.

  When he dragged himself back to barracks it was to find everyone already at dinner. Sinking on to his bed, he resisted the urge to relax into the mattress and sleep. Forcing himself to his feet, Aleks opened the trunk at the end of his bed, pulling on as many layers of clothing as he could. It was going to be cold out overnight.

  Slinging his light saddlebag over his shoulders and swallowing his cry of pain at the movement, he pulled his hat low over his forehead and made for the door. He needed his enlistment forms from Shulga’s office; if he could find and destroy them, the army would have no record of him enlisting. Even if he did get caught after escaping – provided he escaped in the first place – there would be no proof that he was a cadet. Then all he had to do was reach the stables and get Quicksilver before anyone on the dinner shift noticed what he was doing. After that . . . he would find a way out. There had to be one somewhere.

  Feeling a strange sort of strength build in him as the plan formed in his mind, he turned towards the enlistment building. He had no idea where Shulga’s office was, but presumably it was somewhere near Antova’s.

  There were no guards at the door; the barracks was down to a skeleton guard for the dinner shift. Aleks silently retraced his steps from earlier in the day, making his way towards Antova’s office. His eyes raced over every door’s nameplate, frowning when none of them was the office he was looking for. He was incredibly short on time; he had to be on Quicksilver and heading for freedom before dinner ended.

  Finally, he saw it. Lt Shulga was embossed on a nameplate three doors down from Antova’s. Luckily, the door was unlocked and the room empty; Shulga had obviously gone straight from the time-out room to dinner. The office was decorated in the same way as Antova’s, in blue and dark brown, with a large map of Tellus on the wall instead of the royal crest the commander displayed. Darting across to a metal filing cabinet that took up most of one wall, Aleks wrenched open a drawer at random, ignoring the searing ache in his arms. Again, unlocked. Clearly Shulga was too cocky to think anyone would dare snoop around his office.

  The drawer was full of neatly filed enlistment forms in alphabetical order; F–J. Aleks’s form would come under V. Shutting the drawer, he reached for the next one, perplexed to find it containing M–P. The drawer after that didn’t contain enlistment forms at all, but instead held a large stack of account books. Shulga didn’t seem to have any sort of system whatsoever; how did he ever find anything he needed?

  Growling in frustration, Aleks began to open multiple drawers at a time, rifling through stacks of papers and leather-bound books, his desperation growing with every unsuccessful attempt. Digging through a drawer of miscellaneous files and books closest to the desk, his fingers scrabbled at the bottom of the drawer and it tilted a fraction, sending three stacked files slumping against a small metal box. ‘What the . . .’ He trailed off, pressing harder on the base of the drawer, watching it dip under his fingers. The drawer had a false bottom!

  Aleks glanced at the clock; he knew he shouldn’t, but he’d always been the curious type. Emptying the drawer, he dug his nails under one side of the fake bottom, prising it up. The secret compartment was fairly narrow, containing only a thin file of papers and a battered leather journal. It was the journal that caught Aleks’s eye, for it had the Anglyan crest embossed in one corner of the cover. What on Tellus was Shulga doing with an Anglyan journal?

  Aleks lifted the journal from the drawer, flicking it open to the front page. Immediately, his jaw dropped. Property of Lord N Hunter was scrawled across the header, and beneath it was a stamp in bright blue ink that read EVIDENCE – CASE 13734 and a smaller stamp, this time in red, stating CASE CLOSED – DO NOT REMOVE FROM MERICAN CUSTODY and displaying a small Merican crest. Aleks’s blue eyes were as round as dinner plates – Nathaniel Hunter was Queen Catherine of Anglya’s father, the man who had tried to destroy the entire world with his horrific mecha-child creations. There had been rumours of private journals, blackmail logs and personal diaries, but nothing was ever confirmed to the public. Everyone had assumed Queen Catherine had kept them, along with the rest of her father’s possessions.

  Skimming a few pages, Aleks was stunned to see the journal was a personal diary, documenting Hunter’s early ventures into mecha-human experimentation: lab reports written in his own hand, angry rants on the slowness of the process, theories on how to improve it; it was all there. Aleks had no idea how it had ended up in the enlistment building of the Rensav army base, but he could guess from the hiding place that Shulga definitely wasn’t supposed to have it.

  A door slamming somewhere in the building startled him out of his horrified trance, and a quick look at the clock nearly gave Aleks a heart attack. He barely had ten minutes until the end of dinner!

  Stuffing the journal in an inner pocket of his coat, he hastily replaced the drawer’s false bottom and contents, shutting it as quietly as he could. Tugging on the two drawers he had yet to check, he swore under his breath. Neither of them contained a V section, and Aleks felt dread creep over him at the realisation that his file was likely elsewhere. He didn’t have the time to search any
other rooms. Out of options, he straightened up, shoving all the cabinet drawers shut and sprinting for the door.

  A quick glance through the glass panel showed the corridor to be empty, so Aleks slipped from the room.

  Bursting through the door of the building, he turned for the stables, slowing his pace once he hit the cobblestone path, just in case anyone happened to look his way. There was nothing more suspicious than a lone cadet running.

  While there was supposed to be at least one stablehand in the building at all times, Aleks couldn’t see a single soul in the stables. Perfect. Hurrying to the tack room, he easily found Quicksilver’s saddle and bridle, though carrying the heavy items in his current state nearly sent him crumpling to the floor. Still, he forced himself to ignore the pain, hefting the tack across the room towards Quicksilver’s stall.

  The horse whinnied when he saw the tack, knowing what it meant. Aleks shushed him, slinging the saddle on the door and slipping inside, easing the bridle on to the horse’s head. Tossing the saddle on Quicksilver’s back, he fastened it tightly and slung the saddlebag over the horse’s rear, buckling it swiftly. He grabbed the reins, turning to press Quicksilver’s nose to his chest for a brief moment. ‘We need to be quiet, boy. No getting excited.’

  Leading the horse from the stable and cringing at the noise of hooves on the concrete floor, he headed towards the back door. Night-time drills didn’t run during dinner, so he was surely safe from being seen as he sneaked with Quicksilver out through the back of the stable building, letting the door shut gently behind them. Quicksilver’s ears were pricked, his eyes bright and alert.

  When he was clear of the stables, Aleks checked the girth strap once more, not sure he had the strength in his arms to pull it any tighter. It would have to do. Hissing in pain as he lifted his foot into the stirrup, the noise quickly became a barely stifled yelp as he swung up into the saddle, the leather pressing into bruises he hadn’t even known he had. Gods, he hoped he wouldn’t have to ride for too long.

  His gaze was fixed on the treeline of the forest they used for training drills; if there was going to be any sort of escape route it would be there. Everything else was too exposed.

  Aleks kicked the gelding into an easy canter around the back of the barracks. He couldn’t help but grin as he heard shouts of alarm, urging Quicksilver on faster. The horse seemed eager to run, making Aleks wonder how much exercise he’d had since arriving in Rensav. Probably very little.

  The loud klaxon started up before he could even reach the trees; a different sound to the usual wake-up and dinner klaxon. This one was continuous and obnoxious, spurring every lieutenant and commander into action. Aleks didn’t care. His horse was fast, and he had a head start on anyone who wanted to follow him. He could make it.

  It was through luck that Aleks stumbled on his ticket to freedom. He almost rode past it, then brought Quicksilver to a sliding stop as he spotted the gateway; a short, rusted section of fence between two rocky outcrops, too jagged for anyone to even think of climbing. But the fence itself looked like one good tug would bring it down, and the gap between the rocks was just about wide enough for, say, a horse and rider to go through. Jumping down and dropping the reins – he trusted Quicksilver not to run off without him – Aleks reached for the mesh of the fencing and tugged with all his strength. It shrieked horribly, but there was definite movement. He tugged harder, and with a loud wrenching noise the fence pulled free from its anchor, swinging aside with a screeching that made Quicksilver rear up in alarm. Still, the horse stayed put, and Aleks grabbed his reins, leading him through the small gap he’d created. It was a tight fit, but they made it.

  Before he remounted, he turned and pulled the fencing back in place; hopefully if he covered his tracks it would give him a little more time to get clear of Rensav.

  Leaping back up into the saddle at the dim sound of thundering hooves, he spurred Quicksilver on, and the horse needed no further encouragement to lurch into a gallop, easily darting around trees and jumping fallen logs. As far as Aleks was aware, he was heading in the direction of the city outside the military base, well away from anyone who might possibly recognise him. He’d go as far as he could, ride through the night to get to one of the towns outlying the city.

  Squinting to see in the darkness, Aleks looked for what he thought was the edge of the woods, hoping he wasn’t riding deeper instead. Finally, they broke the treeline, ending up on a grassy verge next to a cobbled path. The moon lit the path ahead, and when he looked back he saw the city walls looming behind a row of shrubs. Adrenalin coursed through his veins. He could hardly believe what he’d done. He was officially a military deserter. But it would all be for nought if he didn’t move quickly; no doubt by morning they would have guards crawling all over the place in search of him, and he needed to be long gone before then. Once Shulga discovered what Aleks had taken from him, the lieutenant would be out for blood.

  It wasn’t long before he came to a small town, and exhaustion began to take its toll on Aleks’s body. Everything ached, and after the third time he nearly slipped from the saddle he decided to walk. Quicksilver’s reins in hand, he trod quietly through the rows of low stone houses, searching for somewhere that was concealed. He didn’t want to leave Quicksilver out in the open.

  ‘What in the Goddess’s name do you think you’re doing wandering about at this hour?’

  He jumped at the voice, spinning round to see an elderly man standing in the doorway of what looked like an old farmhouse, a lamp in his hand and a coat over his sleepwear. The man stepped out from the doorway, lifting the lamp to get a better look at Aleks, and let out a soft curse at the sight of his bloodied face. ‘Gods, boy, what happened to you?’ He eyed him closer, his gaze landing on the dark blue trousers embroidered with the Rudavin crest. ‘A cadet.’

  ‘Please, sir,’ Aleks stuttered hastily. ‘Don’t turn me in. I won’t cause any trouble. I’ll just find somewhere to sleep for the night and then I’ll be on my way. Just don’t call the guards on me, please. They’ll kill me if I go back there.’ The man frowned, bushy white brows furrowing.

  ‘Looks like you’re already halfway to it, with that face of yours. Come on, get your horse round the back, quickly now.’ Aleks blinked, perplexed.

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘Come, boy, before someone else sees you!’ The man beckoned him closer and Aleks did as he was told, following him to the back of the house towards three sturdy-looking stables.

  ‘Why?’ Aleks asked in a slight daze, allowing the stranger to take Quicksilver’s reins from him and lead the gelding into the nearest stable. He could do nothing but stand and watch the man untack his horse, taking his saddlebag when it was thrust towards him.

  ‘You don’t look like a criminal – you barely look old enough to shave – so as far as I’m concerned you don’t deserve whatever they’ve done to you in that accursed place. You escaped this far, least I can do is help you make it a little further. In you come, lad; I’ve got a cot bed down in the furnace room that’ll do you fine.’

  ‘I – I hardly have any money,’ Aleks stuttered, making the man laugh as he led him back to the front of the house.

  ‘I don’t want your money, lad. Get in, quickly.’ Ushering him into the house, the man shut the door behind them and locked it, turning to get a good look at the boy. He let out a low whistle, scratching at his salt-and-pepper beard. ‘They really did a number on you. Storms.’ He moved past Aleks, reaching for a door below the stairs. ‘Furnace room is this way, come on.’

  Aleks followed, a sigh escaping his lips at the warmth of the furnace room. He’d not felt this warm in days. The room contained a small cot bed pressed up against the wall opposite the furnace, and very little else.

  ‘We can talk more in the morning. I’ll wake you early so you can get off before the guards come calling. Yell if you start bleeding an unusual amount.’ Aleks snorted, unable to help himself.

  ‘Sir, I can’t – I can’t thank you enough for
this.’ He hadn’t expected to be able to sleep indoors, let alone on a real bed.

  ‘We’ll talk more in the morning,’ the man repeated.

  Aleks let his saddlebag fall to the floor, sitting on the cot to unlace his boots. ‘Well, goodnight, then.’

  ‘Sleep well, lad. You look like you need it.’ With that, the man turned out the lights and shut the door, leaving Aleks alone in the darkened room.

  The blankets smelled a little musty, but they were clean and dry, and the furnace sent a delicious warmth deep into Aleks’s bones, banishing the lingering cold from the army base. He couldn’t imagine ever feeling that cold again; he’d begun to think his soul had frozen. Warm, safe and coming down from his excited high, Aleks fell asleep easily for the first time in a week.

  6

  He was dazed when he woke up, wondering why there was no klaxon, no Jarek mocking him from the next bed, no overwhelming cold. It was then he remembered where he was, and what had happened the day before. No wonder he ached so much. As his sleepy gaze focused, he realised there was someone standing over him, gently shaking his shoulder; the man from last night. His saviour.

  ‘I left you as long as I could, but any longer and the guards will be about. They’ve already had a patrol through,’ the man said gruffly.

  In better light, Aleks could see that he was white-haired and about sixty. He was stocky, with a farmer’s build despite his age, his skin wrinkled and weathered and his beard cropped short.

  ‘What time is it?’ Aleks asked blearily, sitting up with a wince as his many injuries made themselves known.

  ‘Almost six,’ the man replied, tossing several items on to the bed beside Aleks. ‘Some bandages and disinfectant, as well as arnica cream. Thought you might need it. Stand up and take your shirt off, let me check your back.’ Aleks didn’t have the strength to argue, and let the man examine his back. ‘You got lucky, lad. Whoever was punishing you knew where to hit. You’ll be black and blue for a couple of weeks, but doesn’t look like you’ve got any serious injuries.’ He let Aleks put his shirt on, then stepped back. ‘Washroom is the door opposite this one. Get dressed, tend to your wounds, make yourself presentable, and I’ll have breakfast in the kitchen. It’s at the back of the house. Quick as you can, lad, you’re wasting daylight.’ With that he left, and Aleks reached for his saddlebag. He was still in a state of shock; had he fallen from his horse and hit his head somewhere, and this was all a dream?