The Witches of Ne'arth (The Star Wizards Trilogy Book 2)

by Joseph Schembrie

  “You were Chief Scientist. Everything you did was for the city, but they tried to kill you.”

  “Empires use but are not fond of scientists. We inveigle in that most illicit of forbidden goods, truth.”

  “I would like to be a scientist.” Bok tilted his head. “And a pilot.”

  Archimedes smiled. “Perhaps there is a way to combine the two. There is much we have yet to learn about the science of flying. Or rather, relearn – as Aereoth was far more advanced in the knowledge.”

  “I worry about the Roman airship, sir. When do you think it will come?”

  “Oh, not for at least a year. Unless Landar has technical help. But where would he get that?”

  They finished lunch and headed toward the base. Bok observed how Archimedes hobbled and leaned heavily on the staff while pausing often to catch his breath. Archimedes was said to be over a hundred years old, and seemed to have aged even more in the days since the airship had borne away his remaining friends.

  They returned to the office hut and Archimedes took a nap. Bok walked about the hangar fence – he was not allowed inside and neither was Archimedes these days – and eyed the burnt supply hut and the roofless hangar. He wondered how Lady Carrot was doing in the land of the trolls. He wondered how the Wizard was doing on the other side of the world.

  Most of all, he wondered at how strange his life had become. Only a few months earlier, the routine of each day had been to mend sails or go fishing. Tying a net was an event worthy of evening conversation between his mother and father. He found it odd that he could miss his parents terribly, yet not miss those times at all.

  Bok brought firewood to the hut, and though he tried to be quiet, Archimedes stirred at the rustling.

  “Bok, you don't have to do that,” Archimedes said, attempting to rise.

  “Stay where you are, sir. I'll get more water too.”

  “You are very kind.”

  Archimedes groaned and sank back, closing his eyes. Bok decided to let the old man sleep.

  Outside, he looked at the sun dial. There was no shadow, as the day was overcast. Archimedes had taught Bok how to line up the central stick with the spot among the clouds that was the sun, to see where upon the circle of rocks the shadow would have fallen.

  The water would have to wait; it was time for his meeting.

  He took a winding path through the woods, assuring himself that no one was following. He headed for the meeting place. A lieutenant in Leaf uniform was waiting. The lieutenant escorted him deeper into the woods and into a clearing.

  Colonel Krobart forced a smile as Bok approached. “Well, young man,” he said. “I see that you are always prompt.”

  “Yes,” Bok replied flatly.

  “Well, give me the report. What has the old fox been up to?

  “We have been laying escape routes.”

  “Again? You'll show us where they are?”

  “Yes, I brought a map.”

  Bok handed over a sheet of paper. Krobart studied briefly, then passed it to the lieutenant, who folded it into a pouch.

  “How is progress on his . . . 'super-weapon?'”

  “He says there is still work to do. Also, he hesitates to go to the work site, because he suspects we're being followed.”

  With a glare, Krobart snapped at the lieutenant, “You'll have to be more careful!”

  “But sir,” the lieutenant said, “I already stay back as far as I can!”

  “We don't want him to stop working on it! What good will be a weapon half-complete?”

  The lieutenant bowed and mumbled, “Yes sir. I'll do my best, sir.”

  “You'd do well to take lessons in spy-craft from this young man,” Krobart said. “I doubt you'll find an officer in the Leaf with more dedication.”

  “Archimedes is Roman,” Bok replied. “The Romans are our enemy.”

  Krobart beamed. “Exactly. There is a future in the Leaf for you, young man. I promise that!”

  With admonitions for Bok to continue on in the name of patriotism, Krobart and the lieutenant departed the clearing. Bok counted the required number of seconds before his turn to leave, then took a different route, returning to Ravencall. On the way, he considered how much he truly did hate the Romans.

  Bok's thoughts were disturbed with every step, for the cool weather was making his leg ache again. He stopped and readjusted the wrappings. Senti had done the best she could with conventional folk medicine, which impressed even the Wizard, but even the Wizard's miracle potions had their limits. Her best advice was to keep the joint from stress while it healed. But then how could he take off and land?

  Suddenly he stopped and listened quietly. After a few silent seconds, he went on. Then – a twig, scraping upon leaves. He thought it might only be a squirrel. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, hoping to activate a latent, mutant sense of smell, like the Lady Carrot's. All he smelled was pine.

  Then – a flurry of noise behind him, the blur of a man charging from the brush. Bok bolted, but a misstep shot pain up his leg and he stumbled and the man was upon him, pressing him to the ground.

  “Traitor!” the man bellowed. “You worthless little traitor!”

  Bok recognized the voice. He replied calmly, “Hello, Geth. How are you today?”

  Geth spun him face up and glared. “I saw you! You've been reporting to that corrupt fool, Krobart! Spying on Archimedes! Do you have any idea what I'm going to do to you?”

  “Try to scare me?”

  “Yes – well – I – you may not be frightened now, but you will be if I – if I . . . . “

  Knowing that he was speaking to the father of the Lady Carrot, Bok tried to inject a double portion of courtesy into his voice. “We should talk to Archimedes. He can explain.”

  “Explain what? Don't think the old man's leniency will stay me from . . . from . . . well, whatever it takes to make you stop!”

  “Yes,” Bok replied as agreeably as he could sound.

  Geth arose, looming over Bok. Bok pulled himself up and resisted wincing from the pain in his leg. He led Geth along the trail, back to the hut. Archimedes, always a light sleeper, awoke with their entry.

  “Sorry to disturb you, sir,” Bok said.

  “Quite all right,” Archimedes said, putting on his spectacles. “I was having a bad dream. Flames and smoke everywhere. Ah, Geth? What can I do for you?”

  Bok replied, “He caught me spying, sir.”

  “If anyone could, it would be him. Or Carrot. Or Matt. But they're not here, so it's him.”

  Geth frowned and glanced between them. To Archimedes he said, “Do you know that he's been reporting to Colonel Krobart about your activities?”

  “As I instructed him to do.” Archimedes turned to Bok. “Did you give him the false map?”

  “Yes sir. He also asked about the super-catapult.”

  “And did you remember to tell him again how much you hate Romans?”

  “Yes sir. He doesn't know you're not Roman, sir.”

  “Even so, Bok, you shouldn't hate a Roman because he is a Roman. There are good ones and bad. I will admit, the bad overshadow the good. Now, Geth, you look like you expect further explanation.”

  “I should like that,” Geth said, plopping on the chair. “So, you have Bok spying on yourself?”

  “It's an old Roman trick, known as 'double-agentry.' Bok is feeding Krobart with false information about my activities. Thus Krobart believes that I'm building a super-weapon, and his intent is to allow me to continue working on it until I'm finished, when he will seize and claim it as his own.”

  “But in truth, you're not building a super-weapon.”

  “But I am.”

  Geth blinked.

  “Just not the one he thinks that I am,” Archimedes added. “Building, that is.” He yawned. “We hope to be finished before he intervenes, hence the misdirection provided by Bok. Would you like some tea? Bok would you be so kind.”

  Bok went to get the water. When he returned,
Geth was bent forward with his face buried in his hands.

  “I don't know anything of what is going on anymore,” Geth said between his palms. “Everything I do is wrong. I have tried to do the best for Arcadia and Britan, and I have alienated both. I thought that if I refused to accompany on her quest, Arcadia wouldn't go. Now she is alone in peril while I serve as an officer under Krobart, a commander for whom I am learning to detest more each day. And now you tell me that I almost betrayed your plans as well.”

  “No harm done,” Archimedes said.

  “I threatened an innocent child.”

  “I wasn't scared,” Bok replied, somewhat disingenuously.

  “Then I failed at that as well.”

  “Bok,” Archimedes said gently. “Prepare the tea. Now, Geth, it is easy to see that you are depressed, but let's recall that you were quite instrumental in aiding in our escape from Rome. I will always be amazed at how readily you found a shop in Rome that sells uniforms, and that you knew Matt's size.”

  Lowering his hands, Geth laughed. Bok listened as they reminisced, trying to appear disinterested whenever Carrot was discussed. He boiled water and poured the tea and sat with them, and tried his best to be unnoticed. But then Geth mentioned Carrot's mother, and Bok's curiosity burst full blown.

  “Where did her mother come from?” Bok asked.

  “According to Prisca herself,” Geth replied, “from a village in the northwest.”

  “Why did she leave?”

  “According to Ral, it was for personal safety. He has that 'fellowship of guardians,' you know, and they brought her to his care. But as to her origins, she didn't tell him and neither would the guardians.”

  Bok considered. “She came from the northwest and the Pandora of Britan is in the northwest. Maybe the Pandora of Britan made her.”

  “Yet the Pandora of Rome said that she fashioned Prisca.”

  “Do Pandoras lie?”

  “Well, now that you have made me think of it, I suppose the Roman Pandora might have lied about the matter, knowing that an assertion of parentage can be used to dominate a child's will.” Geth quietly sipped. “Perhaps Arcadia was so keen for this search because fate is calling her to her true origins.”

  “Scientists don't believe in fate,” Bok said.

  “Not quite accurate,” Archimedes replied. “To some scientists, fate is just another name for 'reverse temporal causality.' Or so Matt tells me.” He drained his cup. “Geth, you haven't inquired about the real super-weapon. You wound my pride. Don't you want to know?”

  Geth squirmed. “I do not feel worthy.”

  “Well, you are. And your assistance would be most invaluable.” Archimedes stretched out his arm. “Starting with, elevating me off this bed.”

  Geth helped Archimedes up. Bok handed Archimedes his staff and shawl, and Archimedes hobbled to the door with Geth and Bok following. While they passed through the woods, Bok searched their rear. The lieutenant, not being an experienced guerrilla fighter like Geth, was easy to spot. Bok informed Archimedes of their 'tail.'

  Geth reflexively touched his hilt, then saw their placid expressions. “Another ruse?”

  Archimedes smiled. “You're catching on.”

  “Old man, your tricks in tricks! Kresidalan you may be, but I still cannot understand why you never became Emperor of Rome.”

  “Oh, it takes a different kind of clever than mine. And a different heart. And it didn't seem like it would be fun.”

  Archimedes stopped to rest twice. Within the hour they reached the tent. It was as big as a hut and draped in moss and branches so that one had to look hard to see it. Archimedes beckoned them inside and lit the torch. Geth's eyes widened at the sight of the workshop.

  “I've never seen a catapult so huge!” he exclaimed. “So this is your secret weapon!”

  “It is not,” Archimedes replied. “This is what Krobart thinks we are building, because Bok tells him so and it is what the lieutenant lurking out there sees when he sneaks in when we're not here. But our journey to the ultimate secret is not yet concluded. Bok?”

  Bok pulled aside a box against the opposite wall of the tent, revealing a meter-square flap. He lifted the flap and Archimedes got on his hands and knees and passed through the hole. Geth followed, and Bok backed in, moving box and flap into their previous positions. They crawled through a tunnel of dense brush, emerging into a gully. Silently, they led Geth through more trails. At last they entered a clearing that encircled a pond. Archimedes pointed to the hill on the other side and held out his arms expectantly. Geth and Bok took one each and helped him up the trail to the crest.

  Once he caught his breath, Archimedes entered the woods atop the hill and they came to another camouflaged tent, twice the size of the first. The flaps were pulled to open the entire front of the tent. Geth stared quietly.

  “This is your secret weapon?”

  “Indeed,” Archimedes replied. “As did the ancients, we call it a 'glider.'”

  Geth entered the tent. He ran his hands along the wings and fuselage, gently twisted the ailerons and rudder, observing the play of the cables that led via a system of pulleys to the controls in the cockpit.

  “It resembles a bird, yet with wings longer than even an albatross. Is it a kind of kite?”

  “In a sense, it's a kite that carries its operator.”

  “How is a kite a weapon, even if it does carry a man?”

  “You're missing the key, Geth. A kite can't go very far or very high and the reason is because it's tethered to an operator on the ground. The glider's operator is inside the craft, so it can fly as high and as far as the wind will take it. Same thing as gulls suspended in a breeze.”

  “Even gulls must flap their wings from time to time so as to regain height. These wings are fixed. How then does the craft rise in the air in the first place?”

  “We have it roll down this hill, and when it gains enough speed, it takes flight on its own.”

  “That is quite astounding, but again, how is that a weapon?”

  “Well, imagine that the Roman airship is here –“ Archimedes indicated mid-level with one hand “– and this craft is here – “ he raised his other hand higher. “Then we attack from above, dropping bombs or firing rockets on the airship just as the airship does onto its targets.” He swooped his 'aircraft' hand over the 'airship' hand to illustrate.

  Geth scratched his chin. “How do you propose to lure the airship below this hill?”

  “How do I – oh, I see what you're saying.” Archimedes addressed Bok: “He thinks all we can do is fly downward from here. He doesn't understand ascendals.”

  “What is an 'ascendal?'” Geth asked.

  “It involves a technique by which the aircraft can ascend to higher altitudes,” Archimedes replied. “You see, warm air rises – well, you know that, you've piloted the airship. At any rate, above the surface of the land and sea are invisible columns formed of air that rise because of their warmth. Bok and I call these columns 'ascendals,' because if the pilot flies the aircraft inside of one, he and the craft will ascend with the air in the column.”

  Geth was quiet for a moment. “And so this is your theory?”

  “Proven fact.”

  “Sir,” Bok interjected. “I can show him. The breeze today is good speed.“

  “I saw you glancing at the sky as we walked.” Archimedes smiled. “A complete overcast is not the best weather to seek ascendals, but I suppose it will work for a demonstration. All right Bok – but nothing fancy and keep it short.”

  Bok took the cue to remove the wheel blocks. Though his expression continued to signal perplexity, Geth helped them roll the aircraft out of the tent, down a well-worn path to the point where the hill's incline rapidly steepened. Bok climbed into the cockpit and faced the handles that operated the pulleys. He and Archimedes went through the flight check, testing control surfaces and cable integrity. At last, Bok strapped himself into the harness, fitted on the 'flight glasses' that Archimedes had
fabricated, and the signal was given. Geth pushed the craft forward until the wheels rolled on their own with gathering speed.

  The craft rattled and shook as it always did, but Bok had learned to ignore the bouncing and concentrate on the sensing the right speed for lift. With precise timing he pulled the cable handles that operated the horizontal stabilizers on the tail. The nose elevated and the shaking stopped as the craft leaped into the air.

  Once clear of the ground, Bok wasted no time. Pulling the aileron and rudder cables, he went into a tight bank and steered toward the face of the adjacent cliff. As usual, the day's breeze was striking the cliff, becoming an updraft. Bok joined, barely clearing the crags. The updraft carried him above the top of the cliff, scores of meters higher than the hill from which he had launched.

  Below, Archimedes waved his staff in the approval signal. Geth was staring open-mouthed.

  Bok made a lazy circle over the perimeter of the pond, nearly grazing the tree tops. He curved back to the cliff and replenished altitude over hot springs. He repeated and then, wanting to impress Geth, he surveyed the landscape for what to do next. He could head north, and follow the tree line along the mountain slope for a while. That would show Geth that the craft had range.

  Then the banking nose brought Mount Skawful into view. The massive volcano loomed above the landscape, simmering vapor all the way to the cloud cover above: the ultimate ascendal.

  Bok's heart ached at the sight. Archimedes had often remarked, “If you can reach Skawful, then all the sky above Britan is yours.” And each time Bok had nodded soberly at what was for Britan's only aerial knight the holiest of grails.

  For the ascendals of Skawful towered so high that even on this gray day they bored a hole into the overcast. To reach Skawful meant to be borne by ascendals that would lift him perhaps kilometers into the heavens, to altitudes where he could survey all the island. He could circle as long as he wished, waiting until he spotted the Roman airship. And then however far away, so long as it was over the island, he would have the range to swoop upon it, and strike swiftly from above and behind –

  Such an act would make him a hero of Britan. People would speak of him in the awestruck way they did of Lady Carrot and the Wizard. Not that he, Bok, would ever be motivated by a desire for fame and glory. And 'awestruck' wasn't actually what he was aiming for in human social interaction. What mattered was the deed, to free Britan from the Roman murderers . . . although it would also be nice to win the Lady Carrot's smile for his valor.