Lord of the Sky (The Young Ancients: Timon)

by P. S. Power

  Tor would come. After all, his wife was there. That probably meant at least a few others would show up too. It was a bit surprising that they hadn't shown up already, but not that much. After all, Trice seemed like the kind of person that would make others late, just to be in fashion.

  At fifteen after the hour Timon found himself standing next to Heather at the front door of her home, trying to think of what to say to help her feel better about herself and the whole situation. Having her feel slighted wasn't going to make her love the King any more than she did, and things were kind of strained there for some reason anyway.

  Thankfully a knock came. It was a bold and powerful pounding, a human fist on wood, coming from about six feet up the large double doors at the front of the place. That meant it was a giant. That or someone smart enough to fake it.

  He smiled, not able to think of who would be coming that was that tall.

  "There we go. At least one person decided to come and visit with me." The Countess didn't seem all that relieved really, but answered the door herself. The butler was busy and it actually looked better. Not as rich and powerful, but more humble. Heather could use that to her advantage.

  When the large thing opened there was a massive form on the other side. He was tall, dressed in bright green, which meant he'd come for the party and not to fight, and had a bottle in his hand. That was also a very good sign. His wild beard was the normal red brown that it always was, but the man was smiling, which only happened about half the time.

  "Heather!" Count Peterson looked around and then down at Timon. It took a second, but recognition flashed finally. The man wasn't a genius, but he was smarter than he looked. "And Countier Baker! I'd heard that you'd stepped in for County Montblanc." There was no hint of joking or derision in the words at all. In fact the man bowed to him first, then Heather. It was a very peculiar thing, which got the Countess to stiffen a little, which Peterson caught, his face going hard suddenly.

  "That's no small thing, and not a joke, Heather. I've stood shoulder to shoulder with the man in combat, and he took most of the foe himself. Rogue military men, all well armed, and set to kill King Richard and his Lady wife, the Queen. Don't let his lack of years fool you. No one hearing that he stands for you will think it less than real if they have a thought in their head." He sounded almost gruff about it, as if he were actually upset with the woman for not knowing all of that.

  He made up for it with another bow toward her.

  "It's good to see you back on the side of law and right. I have to say, I was most surprised that you threw in with the rebellion in the first place. We should discuss that, but later, when prying ears and eyes won't have as much of a chance to find out secrets. Now, where's the party?" He hefted the bottle, which was clearly his offering to the festivities.

  Tim grinned. It was a decent fallback move, if you weren't certain what else to do.

  "Through the door to the right there, but so far it's just you and a few schoolgirls. Well, and Mitchell. He's in the fighters section from Lairdgren. So is Judith Press. You should see if they have anything in common to talk about, until the adults get here." The Count ran the Flyers Corp after all. Both of the students would have skills that overlapped with his area of expertise even. It might be boring to talk about work, but Tim could sweeten the pot a little at least, with some extra information.

  "Judy is going to be a trainer for the new space fleet. You two should get together and form a power block on the topic now, before anyone can steal it away from you. It fits your military specialty more than anyone else so far."

  He didn't have to explain more than that at all, the man just throwing his head back to laugh hugely.

  "Excellent! How will I know her?"

  "Tallest girl there. Just go in yelling for Judith and that should work too." It was a joke, but clearly Raul Peterson just took him at his word, because the name was rather bellowed a few moments later, after he was out of sight.

  Heather gave him a wide eyed look then.

  "I didn't think that anyone that highly placed would be coming. Perhaps the Wizard Tor, being that his lady is here as well as his brother, but even that I'm not counting on... Exactly how much pull do you have?" It seemed like a sincere question, so he gave her a real answer.

  "Almost none. The King does, and if he's smart, which he is, the man wants to do everything he can to make you feel loved right now. If he showers you with gifts and cuddles, then anyone else that's on the fence, rebellion wise, will see that changing sides is a good plan. If he locked you up or let you be too humbled, then a lot of them would just fight. Aunt Constance made a miscalculation there last night. One thing for her to go after me, since it's a game we play, but using you, at that time... Well, we'll have words about it later, no doubt, she and I." It was an offhand statement, but the Countess was about to say something when the next knock came.

  This one was lower down. Probably coming from a person not much taller than he was. They didn't use the knocker. That would have sounded different.

  Again, Heather humbled herself, opening the door with her own hand, and again there was a Count standing there, along with several other people.

  Most of them Tim's own relatives.

  Count Lairdgren smiled up at the larger Countess, his eyes looking happy. He wore green too, but that made sense, being that it was his house color.

  "Good evening. We heard there was a celebration for the vigil? Do you have room left for a few more bodies?" The words were smooth, holding a slightly bored quality to them. The man looked like Tor, if a few years older. It was close enough that people confused them from time to time, even though they felt very different. For one thing Tim was almost certain his brother still had a few shreds of humanity left in him. If the Count cared about anything it was in a very remote, academic, fashion. Most of the Ancients were a bit like that, but Green was the worst one, so far. The Blue's all were too, if he were going to be honest, but this man was practically his own brother, so the standard was higher.

  Bonita moved in, a basket of something that looked heavy in her hand, and gave him a hug. Then he was surrounded, because his mother and father were there, being introduced to the Countess, along with Terry, Tess and Taman. They all wore cute little multicolored outfits, including his parents. Terry and Tara both held packages which were clearly food and Taman moved forward with a bow, holding a cloth wrapped package up for the Countess to take, it wasn't very big, but was clearly a gift for her.

  "Thank you for having us, Countess Montblanc." The words still had a bit of that little kid quality, but she bowed, which got everyone else to.

  "Oh, thank you! Is this from your parents?" Heather smiled at the thing in her hand anyway, but Lauralie shook her head.

  "She made it herself. You probably want to open it now. Otherwise she'll pester you the whole evening until you do." There was good humor in the words at least.

  "Really? That's wonderful, thank you miss..."

  Tim provided the information for her, since small children didn't rate full introductions normally.

  "Taman Baker. Conserina Lairdgren."

  The Count cleared his throat gently, "Builder, Taman Baker." There was actually something closing in on pride behind it. "What you hold is her first build. It took her four days of constant work, without sleep, to get it done. It's impressive. Don't tell her I said that, I don't want her getting a big head. She still has a lot to learn."

  The woman seemed to think it was a joke, but Tim didn't. He could build things and had been the youngest person to ever manage it on his own that anyone knew of, but Taman had been working daily, making copies and learning from Tor for months. She was six, but clearly was going to be something special. He probably should have felt sad, his one real claim to fame being stripped from him, but honestly, the distinction hadn't ever helped him at all, so it was probably just as well that his little sister hold the honor now.

  The Countess looked at the little wood piece skeptically, but
tapped the burnt patch on it anyway. For a second it didn't seem to do anything, but then a little tune started to play. It was a simple version of a Noram Day song that everyone knew. After a moment a voice started to sing. It was hers. Piping and annoying, as all child singers were, but in key at least. In the background it sounded like someone was playing a guitar.

  The Countess teared up and grabbed the unfamiliar little girl into an embrace.

  "Thank you! This is incredibly lovely. We should show everyone!"

  Timon had to admit it was pretty good. It was themed to the holiday, personal to Taman, and delivered to the disgraced Countess from her own hand. For a half second he had to wonder if she'd planned all of that herself, actually realizing what it might mean to the woman? If so he was going to become a simple carter and leave the fate of the kingdom to her. He'd get the King to abdicate and grow turnips or something useful like that and she could run things for them?

  That was enough for the moment, and the others took their goodies with them into the other room. People came faster after that and by eight there were a full forty people there. It was an odd assortment of people, including Count Thomson and Countess Thorgood, but also the Headmaster of the Lairdgren School, Kyle Hardgrove, and an old man that frequented Tor's bakery most days. He was dressed nicely, in bright colors.

  Everyone was, except Trice, who was in black. It was a dress and hugged her body closely enough that it seemed to be sending a message without her trying to say anything at all. The moment she walked in, standing next to Tor, she latched onto Timon and actually held his hand in hers again. Tor ignored it for the most part, probably understanding that it wasn't anything sexual. He didn't come over to talk to him, Tim noticed.

  Heather did, after mingling with everyone for a few moments.

  "I didn't know you were that close to Timon, Patricia. Not to seem catty, but if you take advantage of him, I'll have to report you." This, clearly, was a joke, since Trice held the back of his hand to her chest and let her eyes go wide. "Whatever do you mean?"

  Then they both chuckled a little, and thankfully she let go of him.

  Then she kept touching him, if mainly on the shoulder. Looking around it was clear that several people he would have expected were missing. It made sense that Varley wasn't there, even if she was married to Count Peterson. No one would send a Princess into that situation after all. Beside, she'd have duties at the Palace. Peterson himself was probably only there because the King suggested it really. Tiera was nowhere around either, which was strange. Most of her friends were there after all. No one mentioned it, which was more telling than if they'd made an excuse, or even just said she was off murdering people.

  It was strange, but of all his siblings he was closest to Tiera really. Terry was a close second, but he was only nine, so stood across the room with Tor, Judy and Count Peterson, all talking animatedly about something or other. Hopefully the new space fleet. If they didn't do something soon Judy was probably going to figure out that she could give a fake name to get into the military, if she wanted.

  There were tables set up, and they had plenty of space at them. When the meal was announced everyone got into line and stood near the food table, working their way down that way and then sitting near whoever they wanted to. Timon was pulled into place next to Tor, of all people, who was next to Judith, with Ali and Sherri on the other side.

  "Tim. So... I hear that you're organizing the testing for the space craft? I have those nearly finished. Speaking of which, how is your grow going? Do we have a new Fast Craft fleet ready?" At the Palace they wouldn't have talked work at the table, but this was a lot less formal and more cozy than that. It was a good turn out too. Everyone was happy and festive at least.

  "I have those in my cottage out front. We can check them out if you want. I've just been waiting for the field strength to be enough. I haven't taken one up yet, but it feels right. I'm a bit nervous about it. You know how that is." He didn't feel that way, not really, but he didn't want to fail either. "As for the testing, I'm in, of course. Judy too. We need to get Aunt Alice in for it as soon as we know it works. Even if only as a training craft."

  There was a bit of silence as his brother ate some mashed and buttered potatoes from the plate in front of him.

  "Great. I'll let you do that. I don't have time for it now. Count Peterson is handling the military side of that, but this should be a world wide effort. I'm sure you can work it out, between the four of you. If you need funds for it, just get with Gerent. Speaking of which, where is he?" Tor actually looked up and down the table, not finding their new brother at all.

  Trice was a few places away, clearly listening in, her brow furrowing the second she heard the words.

  "Good point. Is he too busy for us or what?"

  That got her new communications device whipped out, which showed she had one, as Tim had suspected all along, and meant Gerent was contacted right there at the table. No one stared at her overly, but it had to be at least a little rude. The man answered, his voice sounding a bit subdued.

  "Hello?"

  Trice smiled at least. That was good, since it would let the man hear that she was pleased at least.

  "Hey Ger, it's Trice. We're all up in Montblanc, at a party, and everyone was wondering why you didn't come? Meet up with some new woman while we weren't looking?"

  There was a bit of a pause then.

  "Oh... I see. No, nothing like that. I'm just sitting here. Everyone else I know is gone. That... Makes sense, right? Holidays were never a big thing for me anyway. I didn't know about the party, but why would I be invited? I don't know anyone there." He was clearly making an attempt at sounding brave, but the words had a shy sadness to them underneath, like being left all alone for Noram Day was just to be expected.

  Strangely enough Heather stood, her chin coming up firmly. Walking behind Trice she bent over the device and spoke, sounding much friendlier than she looked.

  "Please forgive me. Of course you're invited to my party, sir. Always. It's just beginning too. We're at the meal, but we have plenty..."

  Tor looked over and nodded, then stood, his body and face looking a bit thinner now than it had even two months before, thanks to the new growth he was doing.

  "There you go Gerent! Countess Montblanc invited you herself. Tim and I will be there to get you in about... half an hour? I'd get you to fly up yourself, but you'd probably have problems finding the place in the dark." Looking at his brother he shrugged. "We can use one of your new build on the way down to see how they're doing."

  It was a plan, and really, it sounded more interesting than being at a party. That was part of the noble world that he could do without, but it was an inescapable duty. Celebrations took place all the time, and were spaced out with dinner parties and get-togethers at both regular and irregular intervals. They were actually fantastic for plotting and intrigue really, if the people around you didn't assume you were too young to be useful for things like that.

  Trice cleared her throat.

  "No, Tim and I will be down. We can test that... whatever it is just as well as Tor could. If it's alright with you Heather? We'll be back as soon as possible."

  Tor didn't argue with her, but did raise both his eyebrows and then smirked a bit. What he thought they were going to do Tim didn't know, but there was no argument. Actually he didn't seem jealous or angry either, and since Tor wasn't perfect that way, or even truly noble in that aspect of his being, it probably meant something else was going on entirely. Like he thought that Trice was being pushy, but got that it wasn't about her personality, but her job? That was possible at least and when Tim looked over at his brother, who was all in bright purple even if that wasn't a seasonal color, nodded at him to let him know what he was thinking was correct.

  That also meant that he'd been reading his field, in order to pick that bit up. Luckily he hadn't had a torture flashback or anything at the table. That would have changed the dynamic more than a bit, he'd bet.


  Heather nodded happily, since people wanted to come to her party, so Tim stood, ready to go right then. It meant leaving his plate unfinished, but he didn't really care. He hadn't been eating a lot lately. Really, come to think of it, he hadn't even gotten hungry that day. No food had been offered, true, but he hadn't felt like he needed any either. It probably wasn't true, which meant it was a mental effect. Damage done from what he'd experienced.

  Without looking back or saying goodbye, he headed out of the house to his cottage, then rummaged one of the silver squares out of the cloth wrapped bundle he had them in. The sigil on them was of a stylized horse, which was what Tor used, but the build itself was a fresh one, since you couldn't grow copies really. They felt like him at least. It was a very different thing really, if it worked.

  Sighing he came out to find that Trice had walked out alone, her dusky face reflecting moon light just enough for her to be seen. Otherwise she practically melted into the shadows. Timon didn't bother to explain anything, just putting up his new craft. It came into being as a silver sphere, but he flattened the bottom a little and then used his mind to draw it out. First back, making it about four times longer than the other Fast Craft could get, and then making it about twice as wide as normal. That part worked at least, which was a good sign. It would mean that they could have a lot more people inside if nothing else. If it flew at all, that would make it a successful build.

  "We might as well get in. It's not going to test itself."

  The woman didn't say anything, but also didn't seem doubtful that it would work. He felt it, just a little. After all, no one but Tor had ever managed to make one of these go faster than a regular flying carriage. Everyone in the Lairdgren group had tried it too, at least on the level of making copies. This was built the way that Tor had told him to, grown like a tree, slowly over the last month, but would it be enough?

  The inside was a bit nicer than what Tor had. For one thing the control mechanism didn't require you to hold your arm out in front of you being right above the arm of his seat instead, so that the pilot could rest a bit while flying. It also had a restroom in the back. You could take it out, but it was there when you set up, so that everyone would know about it and not try to hold it for six hours while they flew across the ocean.