The Almost King

by Lucy Saxon

  When Aleks wandered up to join Drazan outside, it was to find him leaning against the railing, watching birds fly over the treetops, video recorder in hand. ‘Just getting a last look,’ he explained.

  Aleks smiled. ‘I know. I came up to do the same. It may not have treated us well, but I’d be an idiot not to come up and say goodbye to this beautiful place.’ Propping his forearms on the railing, his shoulder bumped Drazan’s gently, and the blue-eyed man smiled.

  ‘Makes you feel a bit special, doesn’t it? Knowing we’ll be the only people in Siberene who have seen this place in person. I wonder how long it’ll be before we’re not,’ he mused.

  ‘Oh, years, I expect. It’ll take a while before someone’s able to replicate Luka’s particular brand of genius,’ Aleks said.

  ‘I suppose you’re right.’ A comfortable silence fell between them, both their minds on the third member of their crew. ‘What do we do when we get home?’ Drazan asked eventually. ‘I know the plan was to give the video to Luka and show the world, but . . . things are different now.’ Zhora was dead, and this country was home to people who didn’t want to be disturbed. Showing the video could do more harm than good at this point.

  ‘We show it,’ Aleks decided. ‘We cut out any signs of Kara and her people, we don’t even tell Luka about them, but the rest of it . . . we just have to make sure we make it clear this place isn’t fit for people or for flight. If we don’t show it, people will still be killing themselves trying to fly the Stormlands and discover what’s on the other side. And if anyone does get through, they’ll only provoke Kara, and who knows what problems that’ll cause? Besides, if we don’t show it, all this will have been for nothing.’ Zhora’s sacrifice would have been for nothing, if they didn’t show the world what he’d died for. ‘Maybe knowing what happened to Zhora will discourage people from looking for it.’ He felt sick as he spoke, hating the thought of his friend’s death becoming one of many cautionary tales about the Stormlands.

  His mind drifted to home, heart aching at how close they were, yet still so far away. Everything would be different; he would hopefully be free in the eyes of the law. Saria . . . Saria still probably wanted him arrested. Shulga would still be after him, and after the journal. Pausing, Aleks bit his lip, an idea forming. ‘I’ll be right back.’

  Ducking down to his bedroom, he opened the trunk at the foot of his bed, digging through it until he found Hunter’s journal at the bottom where he’d hidden it. He ran back up on deck, seeing Drazan looking at him in confusion. Aleks ignored him and made for the rigging rope, clambering down to the ground. ‘Aleks, what are you doing?’ Drazan asked.

  Making a beeline for the nearest cliff, Aleks started to run, anger bubbling up inside him. ‘This bloody journal is why everything went wrong,’ he spat. ‘I never should’ve taken it – I was too nosy for my own good.’ He stopped just before the edge of the cliff, staring down into the deep blue water thirty feet below.

  ‘What is it?’ Drazan jogged up beside him, brows furrowed.

  ‘Nathaniel Hunter’s private journal,’ Aleks declared, staring at the thing in disgust. ‘One of them, at least. My lieutenant had reclaimed it from evidence, and I found it in his office when I was searching for my enlistment forms before I escaped.’ Taking it had been the worst decision he’d ever made, not that he’d known that at the time. Though if he had left it in Shulga’s hands, gods only knew what could have come of it. ‘This is the reason I can’t live free. If I’d just deserted . . . they would’ve given up on me eventually. But since I have this, and Shulga knows I have this, he won’t rest until he has it back. He won’t leave me alone.’

  ‘What’s in it?’ Drazan asked. Of course, he’d been slightly older than Aleks when the Anglyan government had fallen. He would have been more aware of Hunter and his despicable deeds at the time.

  ‘It’s bad. There’s enough information in here for someone to recreate Hunter’s soldiers. Not that I knew that when I took it. I could’ve left it well alone, but no, I had to be curious and steal the damn thing.’

  ‘Surely that’s good, right? This lieutenant of yours sounds like the worst sort of person; it can’t be a bad thing that you got it away from him. Who knows what he was planning on doing with that information,’ Drazan said.

  ‘It’s still caused me more trouble than it’s worth.’ Aleks tried to think what his life would have been like if he hadn’t taken the journal. Shulga probably wouldn’t have tracked him so doggedly; he wouldn’t have caused problems with Saria by lying and putting her in danger. He’d have kept his past secret from everyone.

  He looked down at the leather-bound book in his hands, flipping through the pages. He still hadn’t read it cover to cover. Clenching his jaw, he looked up, pitching the journal over the edge with one solid throw, watching several pages come loose as it plummeted towards the ocean. It floated for a moment, surrounded by dampening pages, then began to sink, leaving a dark swirl where the ink bled into the water. There: now no one could use that knowledge, ever again. It felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, though his heart was still heavy with guilt. Drazan stood silently at his side, face blank.

  It was almost ten minutes before Aleks turned away from the cliff, clearing his throat. ‘Come on,’ he urged, ‘we need to get going.’ They walked back to the ship in silence.

  With little other choice, Aleks went down to the engine room and Drazan turned to the control room. Aleks had promised to let him fly the Stormlands on the way home, not particularly wanting to do so again. Although, after what had happened with Zhora, he wasn’t feeling too confident about the engine room either.

  ‘You ready?’ he asked, looking over the mechanisms in front of him.

  ‘Whenever you are,’ Drazan said through the speakers. Together they ran through take-off procedure as they had done a hundred times, though the absence of Zhora was palpable. They both still expected the man to cut in, telling them to stop chattering over the speakers and pay attention, even as he himself cracked jokes in the quiet moments.

  Aleks hated being down in the engine room, unable to see what was going on outside or how the storms were looking. He didn’t know how Zhora had been able to stand it.

  ‘Any minute now,’ Drazan called through the speakers, sounding exhilarated. Aleks could feel the ship lurching as they drew closer to the raging storm. ‘Oh, and Aleks? You might want to sit down.’

  The Stormlands seemed to pass far quicker, and far less eventfully than the first time round. Drazan was clearly enjoying the challenge, and having a bit more fun with things than Aleks had – all he’d been thinking about at the time was getting them through in one piece – but he kept them on course easily, and they emerged while it was still light outside, if only just. The Stormlands threw them out several miles further North than they had anticipated, leaving them closer to Anglya than Siberene.

  ‘Are we through?’ Aleks asked when the ride had become smoother.

  ‘Completely. Just below Hebris, but I’ve turned us in the right direction – shouldn’t take long to get back on track. I’d almost forgotten what it was like to fly with real wind under your sails,’ Drazan remarked. ‘Storms, I never want to see another dead zone in my life.’ Aleks laughed.

  ‘You and me both. How are you feeling?’

  ‘Honestly?’ Drazan replied. ‘Bloody awful. My arms are on fire.’ Aleks grimaced, then glanced around the engine room.

  ‘Things are pretty quiet down here, if you wanted to switch,’ he offered, before biting his lip. Of course, Drazan wouldn’t want to come and work in the engine room, the room that killed his brother. ‘No, never mind, it was a stupid thought. I’m sorry.’

  ‘No, actually I think I might like that,’ Drazan said tentatively. ‘Besides, I’ve done the bit I wanted to do, and it’s only right you bring us home.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Aleks asked.

  ‘Aleks, just get up here,’ Drazan sighed. Aleks nodded, hurrying up the ladder through
to the control room. Drazan looked awful, sweat on his brow and his eyes bloodshot from concentration. ‘Thanks,’ he murmured, sliding from the pilot’s seat to let Aleks take his place. ‘Just don’t use the propellers and we’ll be fine.’ Turning to the viewscreen, Aleks couldn’t help but grin, seeing the lights of Syvana twinkling in the distance up ahead. They were so close he could taste it.

  With home in sight, their course steady, Aleks allowed himself a few moments to daydream about getting back, wondering how his friends would react. They’d hardly been gone a few days. Raina would probably hit him for worrying her needlessly, while Ksenia would no doubt cry and then feed him to death. Saria . . . Saria would hopefully be willing to hear him out. Even if she turned down his ring, he needed to clear the air with her. He’d missed her more than he’d ever thought possible.

  Pulling around towards the edge of Siberene, as he’d done every time when landing the ship at the warehouse, he felt a warmth in his chest at the sight of the familiar spires and peaks in the city, now well lit for the dark evening.

  ‘Coming in to land,’ he warned Drazan, eyes fixed on the landing platform ahead. It was odd, having to land in a specific place after several days of landing wherever they wanted, and for a brief moment Aleks worried he would miss.

  But they touched down gently on the rig, Aleks automatically pulling in the wings and sails. He was glad to be home but, still, it felt wrong. They had left a man behind.

  Hearing footsteps, Aleks turned, smiling at a weary-looking Drazan. He leaned against the back of the pilot’s seat, giving Aleks a tentative smile. ‘Home sweet home,’ he murmured, the cheer in his voice utterly false. Aleks reached up, squeezing his forearm briefly, staying silent. What could you say to a man who had lost his last remaining family member?

  36

  They were both surprised when they found the warehouse unlocked and wondered if they would find Luka inside. As they moved the doors to bring the rig in, they saw that the large room was completely empty. They heaved the rig inside and shut the back doors behind them, Aleks reaching for the rigging rope to get back on deck. ‘You know there’s a ladder now, right?’ Drazan pointed out, gesturing to the ladder leaning against the wall, but Aleks shrugged.

  ‘Nothing wrong with the rope,’ he replied, making his way up. Drazan followed him, and they went to their respective bedrooms to pack the necessary items. They could come back for the rest of their things later. Aleks layered up in undershirts, jumpers and a thick coat, feeling strange in the many layers after days of wearing just a shirt. He looked up when he heard a knock on the door.

  ‘Should I bring the recorders out with me?’ Drazan asked. ‘Or should we leave them here until we come back with Luka?’

  ‘Leave them here, I think. At least then we know they’re safe,’ Aleks replied, glancing over to where he’d kept his recorders in the desk drawer. ‘It’s not like we can do anything with them without Luka.’ Drazan nodded, turning back to his own room, and Aleks checked over for anything he might have missed that couldn’t wait until the next day. Satisfied, he shouldered his satchel and went back out on deck to wait for his crewmate. When Drazan emerged, it was with a frown on his face.

  ‘I’m going to leave Zhora’s stuff here, for now,’ he declared, his own bag over his shoulder. ‘It’s too soon to go looking through his things.’

  ‘Yeah, of course,’ Aleks agreed. ‘Let’s get out of here.’ Leading the way out of the warehouse, he shut the doors firmly behind them. Aleks shivered, the harsh cold both familiar and unfamiliar after all his time in the sunshine.

  ‘Blimey, I’d forgotten how chilly it could get around here,’ Drazan murmured, rubbing his arms through his thick coat. His breath turned to fog, and Aleks could feel the still tender skin on his face being soothed by the cold, even through his scarf.

  Riding the tram back towards the city centre, there seemed to be a wordless agreement between the pair to go to Luka’s first.

  Drazan rang the doorbell, and Aleks waited on the step with bated breath, unable to quell his grin when the door opened and a familiar grumpy face peered out. Luka’s foggy eyes widened in surprise when he saw them.

  ‘By the gods, you made it,’ he breathed, reaching out to drag Drazan inside, giving Aleks no choice but to follow. ‘How was it? Did you find anything? Did she make the journey all right? I assume the Stormlands weren’t a problem since you’re here, but what was the rest of it like? Don’t stand there like statues, come and tell me everything!’ He paused, eyeing them with a frown. ‘You’re one short.’ Aleks swallowed harshly and saw Drazan flinch.

  ‘There was a malfunction,’ Drazan said, looking the old mechanic dead in the eye. ‘The left propeller blew. Zhora didn’t make it.’ Luka stared, his face paper-white.

  ‘What?’ he croaked. Aleks had never seen the man look so shocked, so off guard.

  ‘The whole place was a giant dead zone,’ Aleks informed him. ‘Things got a little heated in the engine room. We didn’t know until it was too late.’ Luka’s mouth opened and closed like a fish and he shook his head slowly.

  ‘Of all the things . . . I never imagined it would be a dead zone. Gods, I never prepared her for that.’

  ‘Evidently,’ Drazan muttered.

  ‘If I’d known, I swear, I never would have let you go. I would have prepared her better.’

  ‘It’s too late for would-haves,’ Drazan pointed out. ‘You didn’t know, none of us did. We had terrible luck, Zhora the worst of all, but there’s nothing that can be done.’

  ‘Come in. I’ll put the kettle on,’ Luka urged, directing the two men towards the stairs up to his apartment above the workshop. ‘You can tell me everything.’ As they followed him, Aleks and Drazan shared a look, one thing clear between them: they wouldn’t be telling him everything.

  They were there for at least two hours, going over their journey in detail. They made up some feeble story about exploring the forest to cover the truth about Kara, but Luka didn’t seem to notice, still shell-shocked by the news about Zhora. He was silent for a long while after they finished, then turned to Aleks with a half-smile.

  ‘How does it feel to be a king, then?’ he asked impishly. Aleks groaned, shaking his head, and Drazan laughed. Of course, with everyone under the impression that there were no people on the land, they would believe Aleks to be king by right. Aleks felt a little bad about lying to Luka, despite the man being the reason he’d discovered Kara’s community in the first place, but he and Drazan had agreed that the fewer people who knew, the better.

  ‘We are never speaking of that again,’ Aleks declared vehemently. ‘Besides, surely I can’t be a king until I colonise it?’

  ‘That’s not how the old laws work, lad,’ Luka replied with an amused look. ‘Captain of the first ship to land on uncharted territory is king of that territory, regardless of colonisation. And you’d better get used to speaking of it – that’s all anyone’s going to want to talk about once this goes public. The Peasant King, they’ll call you, or something equally ridiculous. You’ll be a story for the ages – boy from the arse-end-of-nowhere out West travels to Syvana and ends up a king. Breed a whole new generation of adventurers.’ Aleks bit his lip, knowing Luka was right but not wanting to admit it.

  ‘Those new adventurers will be wasting their time if they’re looking to become kings themselves,’ Drazan pointed out. ‘We checked every inch of the gap between the Stormlands, and Aleks’s country is the only one there. Unless there’s another part of Tellus people are keeping secret, every bit of land has now been discovered. Besides, after what happened to Zhora, I don’t doubt people will think twice about flying there.’

  ‘Aleks’s country?’ Luka asked with raised eyebrows. ‘Storms, lad, haven’t you named it yet?’

  ‘That wasn’t really on my list of priorities,’ Aleks admitted.

  ‘Hmm, fair point. Think of a name, lad. We’ll need something to tell the authorities when we take the footage to them.’ He glanced up a
t the clock on the wall. ‘It’s getting late now and no doubt you both want to go home and sleep in your own beds, hug your friends and all that. Come back here tomorrow afternoon – we can go and get the rest of your things and pick up the recorders.’

  Luka walked them towards the door, pausing. ‘I’m glad you’re back, lads,’ he said solemnly. ‘And I’m sorry about Zhora. He was a bloody good mechanic.’ Drazan smiled weakly, nodding.

  ‘Goodnight, Luka. It’s good to see you too,’ Aleks replied.

  Walking with Drazan until the point where they would usually part ways, Aleks wasn’t surprised when he hesitated. ‘I . . . would your landlady mind if I booked in for the night?’ he asked tentatively. ‘I know it’s short notice, but . . . I don’t think I can face going home yet.’ A pang of sympathy in his chest, Aleks nodded.

  ‘You’re welcome at the Compass,’ he promised. ‘Even if it’s just sleeping on my floor. But we’re bound to have a spare room.’ Drazan smiled, shoulder bumping Aleks’s as they both continued towards the Compass. Aleks briefly considered taking a detour to see Saria, but knew that was better left for when he’d had more sleep and time to think through what he wanted to say to her. He’d only get one chance at that reunion.

  A grin tugged at Aleks’s lips when they rounded the corner and ended up on the street behind the Compass, seeing the lights on and hearing the bustle inside from several feet away. He realised belatedly that he had no idea what day it was, but he suspected it was close to the weekend, judging by how many people seemed to be inside at the late hour. Leading Drazan in through the back alley, he detoured towards the stables, surprised to see a small, somewhat rotund pack pony nibbling away happily at the hay in the corner of its stable. That was new. After a quick scratch of the pony’s mane Aleks went around to the front door so as not to startle anyone in the kitchen, heart pounding like a hammer against his ribs. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he pushed open the door and removed his hat, the familiar warmth flooding over him.