Flight of the King

by C. R. Grey

  Those who had covered their faces with their hands or crouched in the mud began to rise and look around, dismayed and bewildered. Heartbroken cries could be heard as the people regarded the aftermath—the bodies of their kin, and the wounded animals and humans.

  Bailey ran to Hal, and threw his arms around him in a bear hug.

  “You’re okay! You’re alive!” he said, holding his friend tight.

  “So are you,” said Hal, hugging him back.

  “I’m sorry,” Bailey said. “It’s my fault that—”

  He was cut off by a roar from Taleth: Viviana stood only a few feet away from them.

  “You truly think you’re able to stop me?” she seethed. “One fight—one destroyed piece of scrap—and it’s over?” She stepped back and spoke loudly, addressing Bailey and Hal and the entire crowd all at once. Out on the field, the people held one another as they looked up to the stage.

  “I am the queen of a New Age of Invention; I do not draw my power from one tiny machine. I have the means to control the entire kingdom at will, and my armies spring up whenever I choose.”

  “They’ll never follow you now,” Bailey shouted. “Not after what you’ve done today.”

  “After today?” Viviana repeated. “The people will fear me. Which is all the power I need.”

  She gestured to the grounds, where Bailey saw that indeed, the citizens of Aldermere were cowering. Families comforted one another, and those who weren’t trying to run from the fairgrounds were hiding their faces, afraid to see what Viviana would do next. Bailey’s heart broke to see so many animals fleeing the fairgrounds, skittering and flying and galloping to the woods, and their human kin watching them go with eyes filled with betrayal.

  “That is what power looks like,” Viviana said. “That is what my father never understood. And it killed him. But now the name of Melore is transformed! It lives on—”

  “In his son,” said Tremelo, as he stepped onto the stage. “Trent Melore.”

  TREMELO WALKED FORWARD TO face Viviana. At his feet, Fennel stood by him, her tail bristled.

  The faces of every man, woman, and child in the Gray City were turned to him. Tremelo realized that if he had ever commanded this much attention before, it had been part of another life entirely, one he did not remember.

  But when he laid eyes on the face of his sister, he remembered her all too well. He held his crossbow slack at his side and gazed at her—those familiar, fierce violet eyes, staring at him in shock. He remembered the sound of her young voice on the other side of a door as flames licked at the walls of his childhood chamber. It’s stuck—Trent! The door is stuck!

  “Viviana,” he said. “Stop this. You must listen to reason.”

  He reached out his hand.

  Viviana, his sister—his family—looked down at his open palm as a skittish cat might regard a friendly dog. After a moment of silent recognition between him and his only living family, she straightened her back, and stepped away from him.

  “Impostor,” she spat.

  “He’s not!” shouted Bailey, running up behind Tremelo. “He’s the True King! He should rule, not you, you—”

  Tremelo held Bailey back and raised the crossbow.

  “We are family,” he said, “but I will not allow you to continue this plot you call Dominance. I will do everything in my power to stop you.”

  Viviana threw her head back and laughed. “You have no power,” she said. “You are not my brother.”

  Beside Tremelo, Bailey shook with rage. The boy’s knuckles were white from clenching.

  Viviana looked from the Velyn to her own guards. The Dominae circled Viviana, inserting themselves between her and Tremelo. But Eneas and two of his men charged at them, fighting a clear path. As the guards drew back, Taleth opened her enormous mouth and roared. Viviana cringed.

  “Surrender to us,” said Tremelo calmly. “My sister—please. We are family.”

  The sound of whooshing wings echoed above, and Tremelo and his followers turned to see a colossal flying machine approaching the stage. It wasn’t unlike Viviana’s Clamoribus—Tremelo marveled at its birdlike design—but it was sleeker, with rigid wings. Its eyes were two curved, paned windows, looking coldly down at the crowd beneath it.

  “The finale exhibit,” smirked Viviana. As the enormous bird hovered above her, a polished set of metal steps folded down from its belly, and she stepped up. Tremelo came forward, mouth agape. The Dominae guards formed a circle around the strange bird, with their swords drawn. Out of reach, Viviana paused on the steps.

  “My power is greater than yours,” she said. Her gaze was on Tremelo, but she projected her voice out, addressing all who listened. The giant bird began to hum as it rose higher into the air. Viviana’s voice amplified as she continued to speak, her words echoing throughout the arena. “I am not constrained by the bond. You would have me surrender to a False King, a pretender, when I have all of Nature under my control, past the bounds of life and death. That is true power.”

  Viviana Melore laughed, and Tremelo watched the woman who was once his sister fly away, forever beyond his reach.

  OUTNUMBERED, THE DOMINAE GUARDS were no match for the RATS and the Velyn. With their help, Tremelo and Bailey fought their way off the stage and into the crowd. All around them, people comforted one another as they wrapped wounds in scraps of torn cloth.

  Tremelo, Bailey, and the others followed Digby to the edge of the fairgrounds, while groups of fighters broke off to pursue Dominae guards. They ran to the thin forest between the fairgrounds and the first winding streets of the Gray.

  Bailey and his friends dashed quickly into the trees, but a gray uniform appeared in the corner of Bailey’s vision. A Dominae guard reached to tackle him, but Taleth reared back, and brought the full force of her claws down on the man’s chest. Digby appeared at Bailey’s side then, and sent a second man reeling backward with a blow from a heavy, blunt-ended wooden mallet.

  “Never thought I’d live to see so much excitement,” Digby joked. “Them Dominae keep comin’ for us, we keep beatin’ ’em back!”

  A volley of arrows chased them into the woods as more Dominae soldiers appeared at the fairgrounds’ edge. But the sound of whooshing arrows was quickly replaced by the flapping of wings and screeching of owls who ducked and swooped, confusing the archers. Together with the Velyn and his friends, Bailey plunged into the trees. Ahead, he saw the red-and-white tail of Fennel the fox leading the way. They ran until the sounds of the fairgrounds were far behind them, and he could see the first rows of tenement housing on the outskirts of the Gray.

  After a trek through a series of underground tunnels and back alleys, the group finally reached The White Tiger. Bailey half expected Viviana to be there waiting for them—but instead, at least three dozen RATS fighters had beaten them to the cozy bar. They immediately helped themselves to Digby’s taps. Several men and women used benches and stools as makeshift medical stations, washing and stitching up wounds while their patients dulled the pain with mugs of Digby’s rootwort rum. Some of the RATS huddled in the corners, shaking their heads as they tallied the lives lost in Viviana’s terrible experiment. But as Bailey entered the room with Taleth by his side, he felt their eyes and heard whispers echoing through the room: the white beast…just like the Loon said…it was all true…The whispers grew even more hushed when Tremelo entered, with Gwen behind him.

  Bailey chose a spot on the floor next to the bar, and sank down gratefully into it. He felt proud, but also tired and a little self-conscious. He’d just stood in front of the entire kingdom and shown his true Animas. Everything would be different now—his life in the Lowlands seemed to have taken place long ago. He hoped his parents would be proud of him when he saw them again. When he finally told them everything that had happened in the last few months, he hoped they’d understand.

  Taleth followed him, walked in two fastidious circles, and then settled on the floor too. Her enormous, bloodstained back was like a fortress bet
ween him and the world. Hal, Tori, and Phi sat behind Taleth, all in a huddled group. Gwen left Tremelo standing by the bar, and joined them.

  “This is yours,” Hal said to Bailey, digging in his vest. He pulled out Bailey’s claw.

  Bailey took it and turned it over in his hands in wonder.

  “You were fierce up there,” he said to Hal. “How did you get this back?”

  “The guard who was holding me during the Fair had it tucked in his waistband,” said Hal. “Like a trophy—I guess he was going to keep it. When the bats attacked, I grabbed it and ran like the anting wind.”

  Bailey looked up from the claw and met Hal’s gaze.

  “I’m glad you’re okay,” he said. His words fell short of the pride he felt for Hal’s risky escape, and the sorrow that he’d ever put his friend in danger.

  Hal lowered his head, and rolled up his shirtsleeves to reveal a crisscross pattern of deep, ragged scratches.

  “I’m okay,” he said. “At least, I will be. But when those bats came after me, I’d never been so afraid. A whole cloud of them. I didn’t know what was happening. I was trying to find you, or anyone I knew, but all around me, wings were flapping and people were screaming.…”

  Tori reached out to him and examined the cuts on his exposed arms.

  “I know,” she said sadly. “It was horrible.”

  “But you stopped it,” said Phi. “We stopped it.” She gasped. “Ants! I almost forgot!” Phi dragged her rucksack to her and unbuckled its front flap. Bailey saw a familiar scaly nose poke its way free of the canvas.

  “Bert!” he cried. Just as though they shared a real kinship, Bert scrambled out of Phi’s bag and waddled across the floor to Bailey’s lap. There he curled up and, true to form, fell asleep.

  “You saved him,” Bailey said to Phi. “Thanks.”

  “We had to send our own kin away,” Phi said. “I think I saw Carin overhead as we ran through the Gudgeons, but I can’t be sure. And Tori’s snakes—”

  “I don’t think I want to even look at a snake right now,” said Tori. “That’s the worst part of all this. Viviana’s made everyone afraid of their own kin. We stopped it, but the damage has been done.”

  “But now the kingdom knows that the prophecy is real,” said Gwen. “And that Viviana will only use Dominance for her own power.”

  Digby busied himself behind the bar, opening more kegs that had not been destroyed in the previous raids. He poured a few mugs of sap milk and passed them down to Bailey, Hal, Gwen, Tori, and Phi. Bailey took a long, slow sip of the warm liquid. It seemed to him like the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted, especially after the horrors he’d witnessed that day. What Gwen had said was true, but they were still far from stopping Viviana. She’d gotten away.

  Bailey thought about the dog who’d attacked the Jackal that day, and how it had continued to attack, ruthlessly. It made him shudder. He wondered too what else Dominance could be capable of. If, as Viviana said, she could make an army instantly from whatever beasts were nearby, then the battle ahead would be harder than any of them had anticipated. But there had to be a way to fight her. He had felt it, in his own body, when the mechanical tiger was bearing down on him.

  “Somehow, if we could harness the goodness of the bond, in the same way that she twists it, we could overcome her,” Bailey said. “Using the opposite of Dominance.” He noticed Tremelo standing a few paces away with a funny look on his face.

  “‘Both the reflection and the opposite of evil,’” Tremelo said.

  “Exactly,” said Bailey, a little confused. “I think.”

  Tremelo walked over and crouched in front of Bailey. He gave Taleth a slow, respectful stroke along her spine, and then smiled wearily at the students.

  “Even if Viviana does have infinite armies,” Bailey continued, “and the people are scared, they know that you’re alive.” He nodded at Tremelo. “Trent Melore is alive! That has to mean something!”

  “For some, it will,” Tremelo said. “There are those who believe the rumors about a True King. But many will see me exactly as Viviana hoped they would—as an impostor.”

  He took a small jar of King’s Finger salve from his pocket and handed it to Tori. She nodded, and held her hands out again to Hal. Tenderly, she applied the healing salve to his cuts as Tremelo continued to speak.

  “I don’t see an impostor anymore,” Tremelo said, looking directly at Bailey. “I wanted to hide from this—from my birthright and my true self. If I’d had my wish, I’d have ignored the real danger that the kingdom is in. But I can’t, can I?”

  Slowly, the entire room started paying attention. Everyone, RATS and Velyn, was looking at Tremelo. Fennel stood by his side, her furry chest puffed out proudly.

  “I’m your king,” he said, turning to face the entire room. “I didn’t want it before.…I didn’t think I could ever live up to it. But I know now that I have to try. If these kids—these brave kids—can face their enemies and their challenges with the courage and heart that I saw today, then I must try to do the same. I owe it to them.”

  Bailey smiled up at Tremelo. He petted Taleth’s dirty, blood-matted fur, and he experienced a comforting moment of deep connection. He saw a flash of woodlands, and smelled mountain pine. Taleth was dreaming of the Peaks. He closed his eyes for a moment and joined her there, willing the memory of her nearly attacking him out of his mind. Viviana had tried to make them fear each other—hurt each other. But he wondered if, in fact, their ordeal had only made their bond stronger.

  “Viviana claims to have created an army today—well, we have the seeds of an army too,” Tremelo continued. “The greatest warriors in the kingdom are here together. The Velyn and the RATS.”

  Cheers sounded through the dingy room, filling its musty corners with hope and excitement. Digby Barnes and Eneas Fourclaw stood together in the corner. At Tremelo’s word, Digby slapped Eneas’s back, and Eneas nodded solemnly—but not unkindly.

  “I still can’t believe it,” Digby said, overcome. “Bidin’ your time all those years. Clever as old Loony always said you were. It’s an honor, an honor.”

  “There are more of us, deeper in the mountains,” said Eneas to Tremelo. “I can’t promise you thousands, but those who still live will fight on your side. We’re with you.”

  Bailey sat up a little straighter.

  “More?” he said. “Are any of them my family? Are there more who are Animas White Tiger? Is Taleth really the last?”

  Eneas and Tremelo regarded him seriously.

  “That’s not for me to answer,” said Eneas. “I’ve known no humans with white tiger kin after the Jackal’s reign other than you. But Aldermere is a larger place than some folks think. Over the mountains…one never knows.”

  Tremelo looked down at Bailey.

  “You and Taleth together were the bravest fighters I’ve ever seen,” he continued. “And your bond was able to overcome everything that Viviana tried to do to it. You have the Velyn to thank for that—and also your own hardships.”

  Behind the bar, one of the RATS pushed a foam-topped mug of rootwort rum toward Tremelo, who paused to take a sip. He continued to look at Bailey, with a small, tired smile showing under his mustache.

  “You have enormous power, though it’s not the kind that someone like Viviana treasures. You have an old soul, Bailey Walker. It stretches back to encompass those who loved you long ago, and those who paved the way for your life. They were with you today.”

  Tremelo raised his mug.

  “To Bailey Walker,” he said. “To the Child of War.”

  “To the Child of War!” echoed the RATS and Velyn.

  Bailey raised his own mug of sap milk.

  “To our king,” he said, meeting Tremelo’s gaze. “And to Aldermere.”

  “To Aldermere!”

  Everyone in the room tipped back their glasses, eager to find the warm light at the end of a dark day. War was coming, whether they were prepared or not. Bailey knew that the next morni
ng would bring more hardship—but now, with his friends, he counted himself among the luckiest in the kingdom. What he couldn’t know was that at that same moment, in attics and alleys throughout the Gray, and even in the stone-walled homes of the nearby villages, others were whispering the very same words—The True King! The Child of War!—like a wish or prayer, like a flicker of hope in the darkness of a long, cold night.

  I WOULD LIKE TO THANK the editorial team at Paper Lantern Lit: Lauren Oliver, Lexa Hillyer, Alexa Wejko, Tara Sonin, and especially Rhoda Belleza, as well as PLL alums Beth Scorzato, Angela Velez, and Adam Silvera, for their vision, guidance, and support. Thanks are again due to agent Stephen Barbara as well as Rotem Moscovich and Julie Moody at Disney Hyperion for their insight and dedication. I’m grateful to my good friends Jen Whitton and Michele McNally and to Judy, George, and David—my family—for their love and enthusiasm. I’d especially like to thank my husband, who keeps my oceans calm and blue.

  C. R. GREY was born in a house on a pier in Maine—literally on the ocean. She grew up in Memphis, Tennessee, then received her BA in theater from the State University of New York at New Paltz and her MFA in fiction from Ohio State University. Grey lives in Poughkeepsie, New York, with her husband, one black cat, one white cat, and a Boston terrier named Trudy. She can often be found weeding through ephemera in antique shops or walking over the bridges that span the Hudson River.