Skip: An Epic Science Fiction Fantasy Adventure Series (Book 2)

by Perrin Briar

  His hands brushed against a soft powder. His nails dug into it, soft as the finest sand. He looked up at Gregory, who shrugged.

  “You had to know at some point,” he said. “You might as well know now.”

  “You’re going to ferry this on my ships?”

  “Until now we’ve been ferrying most of our product overland via donkeys and horses. It’s slow and easy to intercept. But with ships we can transfer huge amounts, and with the respected Wythnos name we will avoid vigorous searches, thanks to you and your ancestors’ incorruptibility. Your ships are not subject to the same stringent checks as the other shipping companies. Yours is a name others trust. We intend on using that trust.”

  “You mean abusing it!”

  “That will only happen if that trust is called into question. And once it is, your business will be worth nothing. I trust you don’t want that to happen?”

  “We are proud merchants, from a long, historic line of purveyors! You cannot bully us! You are an ingrate with no blood lines or social gravitas! New blood, young money. You will never share the honour of the old families.”

  “No,” Gregory said, forcing his face up close to Lord Wythnos, “but we are rich, and we can buy whatever titles or deeds or companies we require. Work with us and prosper, or work against us and suffer. You can keep your precious honour, empty titles and pointless traditions. When my father dies, I shall inherit the world and I shall bend it to my will. There will be none who can resist me, where even the king himself must grovel at my feet if he wishes so much as to pass wind. We can go global and supply every major town and city in the kingdom.”

  Lord Wythnos smacked the corn with his fist.

  “This is outrageous!” he said.

  “This is business.”

  “I’ll inform the authorities.”

  “And who’s going to believe you? You, a desperate businessman who agreed to marry off his daughters to avoid bankruptcy? Or Lord Arthur Ascar, a rich man of influence in the Capital with nothing to gain by selling Gap?”

  “But if I do nothing-”

  “If you do nothing your company will thrive and the banks will not repossess your home. Did you know the Ascars were not always wealthy? In fact, before my father, we were a family of struggling field hands. I can still remember the taste of rat meat. Rats are famous survivors. Even their meat is tough. My father didn’t start earning real money until my mother died. He suddenly had two young boys to take care of. He stopped drinking and did anything and everything he could to earn money for our small family.

  “Then one day while collecting money for his boss, he saw an opportunity. A farmer had just returned from the market with a handful of cash for his produce. In that small bundle of notes my father saw his future. He took it, disposing of the farmer in the process. And he has never looked back since. He has the instinct to survive, every bit as much as I do.”

  “You cannot transport that filth on my ships.”

  “It’s not filth. Think of it as simply another product.”

  “It is not simply another anything. It is drugs. Gap! What is wrong with you? Don’t you earn enough from your other business enterprises not to have to trade in that? It destroys lives, ruins reputations. It is a curse upon our land.”

  “The greater part of our revenue derives from that filth, as you call it. I agree it is not good for one’s health or esteem, but that doesn’t seem to stop people from taking it, does it? People make their own choices and they must live with them.”

  “People are stupid,” Lord Wythnos said. “We must take temptation away from them whenever we can.”

  “Alcohol, women, and gambling all take place under our very noses, why not Gap too?”

  “Because it is evil and addictive.”

  “I think you will agree that a beautiful woman can be every bit as sweet and addictive as the strongest concentration of Gap, of alcohol, of the thrill of winning a high stakes hand. These are all vices. So long as there is a need, it must be met.”

  Lord Wythnos shook his head.

  “No,” he said. “Allowing this filth into the world will condemn too many people.”

  Gregory rocked back on his heels, his expression tight.

  “Very well,” he said. “That’s your prerogative, of course. But the Force will no longer search for your daughters. There are a great deal of other responsibilities they should be undertaking. And you shall lose your business and standing in your community, and who knows how your wife will react when she learns the truth. I shall telegram my father and let him know immediately.”

  But Gregory didn’t move. Lord Wythnos hesitated only a moment before straightening his back.

  “Very well,” he said without conviction. “I’m sorry I ever got my daughters involved in this.”

  “It’s too late for that now. They are involved. Deeply involved. And where we find them, they will pay for your weakness.”

  “But you said…”

  “That no harm would come to them? And it won’t, so long as our goods get to the people who require them.”

  An unrelenting fear seized Lord Wythnos then, the fear for his daughters and their lives.

  “You can’t punish them,” he said. “They had nothing to do with this.”

  “You’ve made your decision,” Gregory said, moving for the door. “Now, you must live with the consequences.”

  “Wait,” Lord Wythnos said in a small voice. “I’ll do it. I’ll ship your… product.”

  Gregory looked the Lord over, and then grinned.

  “I knew you’d see sense,” he said. “It’s the right decision, you’ll see. Now, tell me: who besides you knows how your shipping system works?”

  Lord Wythnos looked away. Gregory stepped up to him.

  “Tell me,” he said.

  “No one,” Lord Wythnos said. “I’m very hands-on.”

  “But you must rely on others sometimes to help you in your daily activities.”

  “Occasionally.”

  “Who are they?”

  Lord Wythnos glared at Gregory.

  “What will you do with them?” he said.

  “I will question them.”

  “You mean torture them.”

  “I will do anything within my power to ensure the shipments reach the people and places they’re supposed to. You’re a shipping merchant. Surely you care about making your quotas, don’t you?”

  “Tell me what the problem is and I’ll deal with them myself.”

  “I fear someone knows what we’re doing here and is trying to stop us. But instead it shall be me who puts a stop to them.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Stripper strained at his leash, his front paws lifting up from the ground. Richard bent down and picked up a handful of detritus from the devastated crop. There was a soiled flower petal, three shells of a large insect, and the shredded remains of flower stems.

  Constables with flaming torches swiped at dragornets that flew at them, their stingers aimed and ready to pierce exposed flesh. Richard allowed Stripper to pull him along to a bank island of trees.

  Stripper sniffed and growled at the clearing. The constables crowded around Richard, waving their torches at the buzzing dragornets above them. There was a higher concentration of them here, and the constables were constantly stabbing their torches out at the air, battling a near-invisible enemy.

  Richard pressed his fingers to an odd sun-shaped indentation in the bark of the tree. It looked like a sunburst with odd square-shaped beams. Richard frowned. Stripper pulled against his leash and led Richard across the small island to the other side. He sniffed at headless flower stems had been bent over. Captain Philmore approached.

  “There were two of them, sir,” Philmore said. “And one small hoofed animal. Either a sheep or a goat, I’d say.”

  “How long ago do you think they passed through here?” Richard said.

  “Two hours. Three at the most.”

  A constable screamed. He clutched a
t his neck, where a black stinger protruded. A boil grew rapidly and swelled from his neck. It grew and grew like an inflating balloon. The constable scratched at his neck with his fingernails, drawing blood. The constable’s breath rasped in his throat. He crawled on his hands and knees toward Richard. A high-pitched squeak escaped the constable’s throat, and he pitched forward. The boil burst, and the stench of rotten eggs exploded from it. The boil continued to grow, but slowed. Richard turned back to Captain Philmore.

  “Good,” he said. “Follow their tracks. We need to make up for lost time.”

  Philmore looked at the dead body.

  “Shouldn’t we bury him first, sir?” he said.

  A constable brought Shadow Dancer over. Richard handed Stripper’s leash over and mounted the horse.

  “That would hardly aid us in making up for lost time now, would it?” he said.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  “Why do they even call this the Ice River?” Jera said. “It’s not even made of ice.”

  “Not right now it’s not,” Elian said. “Come winter, it freezes over and this here is all white and blue as far as you can see.”

  “I’d like to see it then.”

  “If we live through this thing, maybe we can come back here.”

  The raft floated toward a riverbank. Elian pushed them off it so they continued down the river. Jera stared at the smooth contours of the water before them.

  “My sister said something a bit surprising,” she said.

  “What?”

  “She said that the Ascars are the kingpins behind a massive Gap ring.”

  Elian looked straight ahead and didn’t make eye contact.

  “Is that so?” he said.

  “You knew?”

  “I had my suspicions.”

  “You knew but you didn’t tell me?”

  “You were going to marry Richard Ascar! How could I tell you? You wouldn’t have believed me anyway!”

  “I would have listened.”

  “But not believed.”

  “I can’t believe this.”

  Jera shook her head.

  “That’s it,” she said. “I’m getting off of this thing.”

  “Don’t! You’re rocking it! You’ll knock us both into the water!”

  Elian wrapped an arm around her and held her tight. He kept an eye on the water to ensure they stayed in the centre of the bark boat.

  “Let go!” Jera said.

  “Not until you calm down.”

  She struggled more, her feet kicking Elian’s shins. He wrapped his legs around hers. Her body continued to twist and shake. Then she laid still and stopped struggling. Jera could feel the warmth of his body against her.

  “Will you let me go now?” Jera said.

  “Will you control yourself?”

  “I’m always in control of myself.”

  “Will you promise not to sink this raft?”

  Jera nodded. Elian hesitated, and then let her go. She moved as far away from him as she could, which wasn’t far on the small raft. They floated down the river in silence.

  “You’re right,” Elian said. “I should have told you. You should have known what you were getting into. I’m sorry.”

  Jera’s shoulders relaxed a little.

  “Yes,” she said. “I should know. How do you know about it, anyway?”

  “I… discovered some things when I was in the Capital.”

  “What things?”

  “Just things. Look, it doesn’t matter what I know. And it’s better if you don’t know what I know.”

  “That’s what you thought about me not knowing about the Ascars.”

  “Well, this is different. It could get you into trouble. It’s already got me into plenty of trouble.”

  Jera’s interest was piqued, but she said nothing.

  Puca, in his original form, stood on Jera’s back. His nose and whiskers twitched with all the smells that passed them by on the riverbanks. When Elian or Jera shifted, even minutely, their tree bark raft leaned over, and the person on the other side had to counter it to stop their side from dipping into the water.

  “How do you know all this stuff?” Jera said. “About the tree bark.”

  “My family are lumberjacks – hence the name ‘Stump’,” Elian said. “Anything Stumps don’t know about trees isn’t worth knowing. It’s something my father was always very proud of.”

  Jera sensed in his tone that it was not something Elian was particularly proud of.

  “It’s good someone finds purpose in what they do,” Jera said.

  “Not if he expects you to think the same way, and you don’t.”

  “I can understand that. My parents always had ideas about what they wanted me to do, what I should be in my life. But I had other ideas.”

  “You must be looking forward to returning home,” Elian said. “Getting back to a comfortable lifestyle.”

  “Sure. People telling you how to dress and what to do.”

  “I thought if you were rich you could do whatever you wanted.”

  “My family is a lot less rich than you think. And a lot less free. I envy you for being able to go wherever you want whenever you want.”

  “I envy your comfortable life.”

  “It’s only comfortable with great sacrifice, believe me.”

  “Sacrificing insufficient food and a cold hard ground as a bed don’t seem like big sacrifices to me.”

  Jera glared at him, but didn’t feel comfortable opening herself to him, so she said nothing.

  The river took them around a gentle bend. A family of pigeese washed themselves in the water, letting out a “Honk-Oink” of satisfaction. They ducked beneath the surface and shook off their feathers, spraying Jera with water. She turned away, rocking their raft. Elian compensated.

  “I think most people move around the way I do because we don’t have what you have,” Elian said.

  “All right, so we eat well. But how about other things?”

  “What other things?”

  “How about your parents telling you who to marry?”

  Elian shrugged.

  “So long as they’re not completely minging, who cares?” he said.

  “But you’re a man, it’s different.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Then how about telling you what you should do with your life?”

  That one got Elian’s attention.

  “That’s not unique to your socio-economic group,” he said. “My father tried to get me to be a lumberjack, but I ran away.”

  “I guess I’ve done the same. Do you ever regret running away?”

  It was Elian’s turn to look thoughtful.

  “Sometimes,” he said. “I wonder how my brother and father are, what they’re up to. Then I realise they’ll be lumberjacking, and then I feel okay. I was never meant to swing an axe around. I was meant to be sneaky and quick, light on my feet.”

  “How about your mother?”

  Elian was suddenly interested in a tiny pool of water what spun around in a circle ahead of the raft.

  “She passed away,” he said.

  “Oh,” Jera said. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s all right. It happened a long time ago.”

  “What happened to her?”

  “She became a treeman.”

  Jera’s hand went to her mouth.

  “Really?” she said. “That’s awful. I’m so sorry, Elian.”

  Elian shrugged.

  “It’s okay,” he said.

  “I’ve heard rumours, but I never knew anyone who caught it before.”

  “It happens. Not often, but sometimes.”

  “How does it happen?”

  “It affects the skin first, turning it hard and coarse. I remember my dad tried cutting it off, but it was a part of her body and she felt the pain, so he stopped. Soon, her feet grew roots, and we knew it was coming to the end then. She found a spot she found beautiful, looking out at a view she would never get tired of, where
she’d be happy to spend the rest of the life as a tree. Her roots grew out from the toes of her feet and heels and into the ground. Eventually it got so she couldn’t move.

  “My brother and I would go see her every day after school. Each time we did, she became less and less our mother. The disease moved inside and turned her organs to wood. They say the heart’s the last thing to change. I wouldn’t know. She was gone to us a long time before then. At the end she couldn’t talk, and just stared at the sun, watching it come and go. She had a halo of leaves. Then one day we went to see her and there was nothing left of her but her torn clothes at the base of the tree.”

  Jera had tears in her eyes. She let them run down her face. She took a deep breath to calm down, and felt a lump in the back of her throat.

  A small herd of buffaroos drank at the river. Their slurping disrupted the water and made the raft wobble. The buffaroo watched them pass with wary eyes. The raft floated past and continued on with its journey.

  “How long has it been since you last went back home?” Jera said.

  “A while.”

  “Will you ever go back?”

  “No.”

  “I’m out here in the world doing the things I always thought I wanted to do, and now I’m here all I can think about is going home. Don’t you feel like that?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “But you won’t go back?”

  “They wouldn’t want me back.”

  “How do you know if you won’t try?”

  Elian turned away.

  “What did you do that was so bad?” Jera said.

  “I abandoned my brother and father. I could see where my life was going and I didn’t want to go that way. I stole some money my father kept in a teapot on the shelf and ran.”

  “I’m sure they miss you.”

  Elian looked into the distance. The river stretched out before them like a road made of water, and the sun glimmered off its surface. The vista’s colour looked washed out, the dying daylight tinting the world red.

  “I’m betrothed to Richard Ascar,” Jera said. “Then I found out what he was really like and I ran too. Sometimes running isn’t the worst thing to do. Sticking around is.”

  “Did you want to get married?” Elian said.