Lord of the Sky (The Young Ancients: Timon)

by P. S. Power

  The craft was in the way, or would have been anywhere else. Here people just sat under it and leaned against it, as if it were just another prop, there for amusement. A creative, and brightly glowing, party decoration. There were even a few people sleeping under it, since it was floating about two feet from the ground, so that it didn't crush the grass.

  They climbed in, making a bit of a ruckus, only to find that several other people had already invaded. They were mainly dozing in the chairs, including the pilot's, which made him uneasy. Timon put his hand on the wall and focused, finally using a feature that he hadn't even tried yet. It caused the vehicle's steering mechanism to vanish. The woman that was sitting there, leaning back, with her top half down letting her nipples show, didn't even notice anything had changed.

  The others didn't get it either, so Trice pulled him along after a few seconds.

  "Just leave 'em. We can shew them out in d'morning." She forced a slurred quality into her voice, then moved him along, as Maria opened the door to Trice's bedroom.

  There were lights on inside, and the naked people on the bed both looked up, the man stopping his thrusting, looking very guilty.

  "Um, Countess..."

  She just waved at him, and moved back, shutting the door.

  "Oopsh! Next one then." Trice opened his room's door, which was empty, thankfully.

  Then, once safely inside, Trice locked the thing, and gestured to the bed. It was a decently big space, but he'd created the bed to be big enough for one person at a time. Maybe two, if they wanted to be cozy. Maria touched it and closed her eyes, clearly trying to change it. It did get bigger, growing until it was nearly ten feet across.

  "There we go. Much better. Now, who get's to go first? I was thinking that I should, since Timon and I are such good friends. Here, get those clothes off..." She wasn't kidding at all, which got Trice to shake her head, suddenly sounding very sober indeed.

  "Not the plan. I have some information for you, hence the ruse. Now, leave my husband alone, at least for the length of the honeymoon, will you?"

  The Countess sighed.

  "I knew it was too good to be true. Well, what is it then? It's a bit unfair, I shared Marvin with you. True, not in the first weeks, but I would have. I just didn't know you then." It was clear to Timon that Maria was just trying to be funny. Yes, under it all there was a bit of real hurt, and feeling rejected, but that...

  Timon nodded. He was picking that up from her field, not from her physical actions or words.

  Trice was a bit annoyed with her about it and wanted her to stop talking.

  Finally, just so there wouldn't be harsh words, he shrugged and sat down on the bed, not bothering to make a chair appear.

  "After we last met I was taken by Countess Alan and tortured. I haven't really recovered from that all the way. Plus, I'm still too young. Doesn't that bother you?" He didn't mean it to sound accusing, but she gave him a hard look and growled at him a little. At least that's what he took it to mean at first.

  For once it turned out he was reading her all wrong.

  "What?" She spoke in a hushed voice and grabbed his arm a little too hard, which meant moving over to where he'd sat. She was looming over him as she did it, which made him feel weak, and small. That caused his shield to kick on, even though he wasn't being hurt.

  "Ouch! That stings." Maria shook her hand and then carried on like nothing had happened at all to her. "Countess Allen hurt you? Nora Allen? How?"

  It was a strange thing to ask really. So much so he didn't answer for a moment, but Trice did, her face blank and voice bland, as if trying to talk about something she'd read in a book, rather than what had happened to him.

  "Broken on the rack. At the same time Nora and a Larval Assassin used an Austran chemical compound that causes unimaginable pain. It's said to be the worst thing that a human can feel and survive. From what I heard most don't, if it goes on for too long. They had him for three days. She abused him. Sexually, and nearly cut it off before she was done. Count Lairdgren and his special team came to get him. Timon built a cutter, even though he was nearly dead from the agony of it all, and killed Nora. Then he cut his own legs off above the knees, so that he wouldn't die a prisoner." Tears came into her eyes then, but she didn't stop talking and nothing could be heard in her voice at all. "The Count had rushed in on his own, and he and Timon killed the Larval. This was after he'd taken his legs off. They healed him then, but it had to be close."

  Maria Ward, the sometimes shallow and slightly bitchy Countess who couldn't have been any older than Trice, stopped dead, and stared. First at her friend, but then him. Trice nodded once, as if to say it was all true. It was pretty close, for the life of him, Timon couldn't see why she needed to know it all. Just hearing it, said as if about someone else, left him shaking and afraid.

  It wasn't fair, but wasn't that one of the things the Royal Guards had told him? Life wasn't fair. He'd already known that, which was why he hadn't bothered complaining about their little bit of wedding day hazing or whatever they called it. He could have, and some of them might even have been punished, though he doubted it would be that severe. After all, it was their ritual of adulthood. Why they'd included him...

  Well, maybe they just liked him? It could happen after all. They didn't know him well enough to hate him yet.

  The blonde Countess sat next to him, but didn't touch him at all. After about two minutes she let her hand moved toward him, stopping about halfway to his side, palm held up for him to take.

  "I'm so sorry, Timon. I... Honestly I knew, already. Not all of it, but that Nora was dead and that there'd been something involving you. It isn't all over the place or anything like that. Not that I've heard. Is there... I don't know what to say. Do you need anything? Is there to be a war over this?"

  That was said so quietly that Trice had to move in, but she shook her head gently.

  "No. Timon killed Nora and her heir wasn't close to her. When he heard what she'd done and it was proven to him, the new Count actually offered to let Timon kill him in retaliation. I think he figured that it would be better for his people than a war they couldn't win. Timon let that go and didn't demand anything from them. Claimed it was a personal issue, which the King accepted."

  The woman next to him still had her hand out, even as he sat, tremors running through his body. He had to touch her, or it would be rude soon. He didn't want to, but she was kind of forcing the issue, by being patient like she was. He took her hand and held it lightly, his palm over hers. She had larger hands than he did, but it wasn't that big of a gap, since she was large, but not vast in size.

  "I'll be fine. It's just a matter of time." He hoped. It didn't really feel like it, but she gave a gentle squeeze and then nodded several times, not letting go of his hand.

  "It seems that you've already taken care of that situation, and you and your sister managed Galasia well enough. Your marriage here will free Trice from that moronic deal her father made all those years ago... If you didn't come for sex, I can't see what you need me for at all then. Not personally."

  She slid closer to him, her leg touching his, but let go of his hand and didn't make the mistake of trying to hold him. Trice looked ready to leap in and move her bodily, but held back. That probably made sense, being that the more he was around women that weren't hurting him, the more his mind would grow use to the idea, but it still wasn't comfortable at all. His wife knew that, without having to ask if it was the case. The shaking was a dead giveaway no doubt.

  Patricia looked at him and then the Countess, clearly not wanting to give her message in front of a third party. Instead of asking him to leave, which would be the sensible thing to do, she pulled an amulet from around her neck and gestured to her friend.

  "Sorry to leave you out, but this is from someone that... I can't mention. Silence field." She hefted the tiny focus stone tile with its glowing sigil. Then she moved across the room and stood with most of her back to him, Maria facing the other way. Watc
hing him as he observed them.

  He really couldn't hear a thing, but the intent coming from Trice was so clear he could read it anyway. She really might as well just have told him.

  Basically she was there to inform the Wards that the King needed them to be ready to move their army and attack one of their new "friends" in the rebellion. It would coincide with an attack that would, at least in potential, break the back of the movement. They were supposed to send them in, marching with the traitors and then betray them from within their own ranks. It was a good plan, but from the sudden yelling going on, it seemed that Countess Ward felt it beneath her, and her people.

  That explained why Trice was telling her first, and not including Marvin at the same time. The giant Count was more even tempered than his Countess, but two people screaming about that would be a lot harder to bear. Finally they both went silent and hugged, Maria crying more than a bit, feeling like it was too much to ask of the people of her County, acting like that. Without honor.

  It seemed a bit strange, since Timon had been almost certain that the woman didn't know what that word meant, in more than a passing fashion, but there it was. Enough to even make her cry.

  As soon as Trice tapped the amulet again there was a soft sobbing, but he didn't mention it. After all, he wasn't supposed to know what was going on. As if things like that could be hidden for long? Timon nearly shook his head about it, but didn't just standing, since it was pretty clear that they needed to work out some way to get the Countess back to her own bed and free up the needed space in Trice's room, so they could all sleep that night.

  The other two didn't even move to do that at all, just changing their clothing so that they were ready to sleep there. In his bed.

  Trice looked at him, but didn't say anything, clearly indicating that he was expected to share the space with them as well. It wasn't like he'd never shared a bed before or anything. At home all of the boys had shared a single bed for years. It was actually pretty normal to him. Yes, these were women and that was harder for him right now, but the idea wasn't. Not in the main. He smiled and put himself in a pair of black silk trousers and a matching top. It would keep him covered well enough and kind of matched the very short loose thing that Trice had changed her clothing into, being the same color.

  It was probably too cute for adults to do in the main, having similar outfits, but Maria didn't even crack a smile about it. She was in a peach colored design that hugged her body around the middle, but that left her legs bare. It covered enough otherwise that he didn't panic at least. That was something, he had to figure.

  He spoke gently, trying to sound like a reasonable person, as he crawled under the covers on the far side. The sheets were made to be like soft cotton, so he didn't slip out of the bed, like he might have if he'd made them to be like satin.

  "Goodnight." Then, when the others were under the covers too, pulling on them a bit, if from a distance, with Trice in the middle and Maria on the far side, he turned off the lights with a thought.

  The morning light woke him first. Trice was turned so that her face was toward him, and Maria had moved out from under the covers, her tiny gown twisted around her waist from tossing and turning. It meant that her behind probably showed, but he didn't look to see if that was the case, working out that it would be better for him to get up and use the restroom. His room had one attached, thankfully. That way he wouldn't have to wait, if there were other people still there. It turned out that there were. A lot of them really. Six.

  Part of him wanted to run them off, yelling at them for invading his space, but he got the idea. It was Warden, and at a party everyone kind of shared what they had. If you didn't want that to be the case, you probably weren't supposed to bring it with you. He'd brought the craft and not even locked the doors. That was about the same as putting out a sign that said everyone was welcome.

  He had to go outside to find a source of water, but had it set up soon enough, the lines flying in the air like they had at the beach. It was the main water source for the entire dwelling, but even when they used it, nothing would be wasted, and only what they drank would really be removed from the large tank.

  That meant he was able to get a shower before most of the people woke up. Naturally, one of them, a sleepy looking woman, walked in as he was rinsing and watched him for a few seconds, alternating a smile with her clutching her head.

  "Say there, have you seen somewhere I can throw-up?" She looked a bit more desperate with each passing second, so Timon just made a toilet and helped her over to it, holding her hair back for her as she emptied her stomach of all the mistakes she'd obviously made the night before. He was still wet from the shower, but put some clothing on anyway, with a bit of focus. It was just a workman's brown, but it soak up the water well enough, he figured, without taking a lot of extra work.

  It was gross, listening to her retch, the splashing sounds of the liquid escaping and all that, but after a few minutes it was over and the woman moved to the shower herself and stripped her light colored dress off, then, without asking, handed it to him.

  "I need to rise my mouth. It tastes like half a dozen sailors. I should have put them through the shower here first, eh?" There was a weak laugh, but she turned to washing herself, which he ignored, making a hook appear on the wall and hanging the garment up instead. Then he left. Most of the others were still sleeping, in one position or another. Most in chairs, or on the floor, but one person, an older looking man with an instrument case next to him, had figured out how to make a small bed. He'd run it along the wall in the main room, on the far side.

  The people in Trice's bedroom had left, and he had a sneaking suspicion that the female part of that group was currently using his shower. That, plus her statement about sailors led him to believe that she was probably a local prostitute. Or, possibly she was just that easy at parties. One way or the other.

  After a few minutes of looking around, she walked out into the hallway, her face looking far too worn for someone as young as she seemed to be otherwise. She had clothing on at least and smiled at him, her face not really managing to look happy really.

  "Hey friend. Thank you for your help in there. Bad habit, losing my drink like that." She looked at him for a few seconds and then nodded, once. "I know you."

  If so, he was at a loss as to where that would be from. Maybe the market place? He did business there regularly, but she wasn't anyone that jumped out at him.

  She explained, her face looking happy suddenly.

  "My older sister, Martya, she runs the ice manufactory? You've been there a few times, loading up with ice, for trips to strange lands. The flying man. Tim Baker?" She seemed pleased with her reasoning, which given the fact that she was at least still seventy percent drunk was actually kind of impressive.

  "That's right. I don't know your name. Martya, of course, but..." It was kind of rude of him, if he'd forgotten. Luckily he didn't really care about things like that. It made his life a lot easier. Still, she was in front of him and still wet from his shower, so it made sense for him to ask.

  "Deidre. I work in the family business here." She left it at that, but Timon was nearly certain that wasn't making ice, even if it would be a good thing here, given the heat, even in winter. There was no need to call her out on it, since he didn't really want her services at the moment.

  After all, he had two willing women in his bed and a box that would transfer heat and make ice in the kitchen. That didn't mean the woman might not be useful anyway.

  "I'm going to get into the city and see about buying some supplies. Want to come with me? There's the use of a healing amulet in it for you, if you'll help me carry some things back."

  It probably seemed like he wanted something else from her, he realized, but then, really he did. Timon didn't feel like going alone overly and wanted someone to chat with. It was odd for him, but things had been unsettled for a while, and while Trice was a good person, she was part of the problem he was having. This woman, if no
thing else, wasn't that much bigger than he was, maybe an inch taller, but even that might not be the case if she were wearing different shoes.

  "If you'll do that for me, I'll be your slave. For the morning at least. I have to work later tonight of course, or I won't be able to pay my rent come the end of the month."

  It didn't take long to get the healing amulet he had out, and while the woman moaned a bit in a pained fashion as the alcohol removed itself from her system, she smiled a few minutes later and handed the thing back.

  "Are you the great Wizard Tor then? This magic ship of yours is as nice as your houses."

  He nearly glared at the woman for making the mistake, but then just threw his hands out a bit. It was one place that Kedrin had been right, the day before. It was cold and dark in the shadow of his famous brother.

  "I'm Timon. Remember? You just said you knew who I was? Tor's my brother."

  The woman nodded, and didn't have the excuse of being drunk anymore, but didn't seem upset with herself or anything.

  "Right! Did you make this ship then?"

  Timon smiled, getting the general idea. Deidre wasn't trying to be mean, she just wasn't all that bright. Most of the time when he thought that about people it wasn't really true, it was just him being a jerk and calling names, if inside his own mind. With this girl that was different. She was honestly kind of simple. Enough so that it made him angry for a few seconds that anyone had put her to work as a prostitute. Still, that was a job that she seemed to be good enough at, having the basic equipment, and she was able to hold conversations and not sound overly slow, so he might still be being a bit snooty, he realized.

  "I did make this ship, actually. Shall we go? I don't know if anything will be open this early or not." It was just past dawn after all.