War of the Princes 03: Monarch

by A. R. Ivanovich

  “If we stop,” she rasped. “We'll be vulnerable to attack. We're nearly at the coast now. We can put in at Sheer Town and get some repairs. Refuel. I won't stop until we're out of open water. We can't risk any delay.”

  For an outsider, she was really taking Breakwater's plight to heart. I had to remind myself that I was an outsider with equal concern, myself. We were heading to her home country. Perhaps she believed in her prince's ability to help us.

  “So give me the helm,” Dylan said emphatically. “I'm a better pilot. It's the least I can do.”

  “Is anyone more arrogant than you, little one? Or have you beaten all of your competition?” Carmine might not have much energy, but she sure wouldn't let Dylan slide.

  “There never is any competition. Don't confuse skill with arrogance, Darling.”

  “Don't call her that,” Kyle snapped.

  Dylan shrugged, flipped through his cards and put two on the table.

  Rune followed by placing one down. The former Dragoon never involved himself in Dylan's squabbles. Looking up, he seemed suddenly inspired. “Rousseau, will you teach me to pilot the ship?”

  “What?” she said as though he'd asked the most absurd question. “No. I'm not teaching or allowing anyone else to fly the Fish. If I need to repeat myself again, I'll drop all of you off right here in the ocean.”

  “Your loss.” Dylan drew two cards from the pile on the table.

  “You think pretty highly of yourself.” Kyle snorted. “I bet you'd say you know how to patch a burst compression system.”

  “I do,” Dylan beamed.

  I groaned. Rune might be able to take his boasting, but I couldn't, and Kyle's patience was even thinner than mine.

  “And I could do it better than you,” the young Lord quipped.

  Oh no.

  Kyle slammed the glass of water down on the flat portion of the console and shot to his feet. Red hot anger flashed in his eyes. He was going to punch Dylan! I scrambled forward, grabbing my friend by the shirt to stop him. Rune got to his feet, and looked slowly between the two. Though he said nothing, his body language warned the two of them that they'd be in worse trouble if they crossed him.

  “Hey, hey, hey,” I cooed, hoping to control the damage that was about to unleash. “Not a good idea. He's a Commander, remember?”

  Dylan laughed like Kyle had made a fool of himself. He didn't even bother getting out of his chair.

  Kyle stared him down, breathing heavily. He looked nearly as tired as Carmine. Everyone seemed to be unraveling lately. Rune was the only exception, and I wondered if I should be relieved or concerned.

  “Easy,” I said quietly to Kyle. “Don't let him get to you.”

  I could feel my old friend relax a little. “Fine,” he said, patting me on the shoulder to assure me he was finished. “Fine.” His eyes slid icily away from Dylan and back onto the mountains ahead of us.

  Rune sat slowly down, looked over his hand, and made his play.

  Dylan flipped a card onto the table. “I win again.” He was far too pleased with himself.

  Rune rolled his shoulders and leaned back in his chair. “At cards, perhaps.”

  “Oh? And what have I lost, Defector?”

  “Only your chances of survival.” Rune stacked his cards neatly in the center of the table. His eyes caught Dylan's and he smiled, but barely. “Never anger your field medic.”

  That shut Dylan up quickly enough. I knew that Kyle would never let anyone die, it just wasn't in his personality, but it was good, sound advice.

  “While we're at it,” Carmine said so quietly that I almost couldn't hear her. “Defector isn't a very clever nickname for Thayer. You, your brother, and all of Breakwater will be defectors soon enough. Once you pass into the care of Prince Varion, there will be no turning back.”

  Dylan crossed his arms, sullen. “Is that supposed to frighten me? What happens to us happens to you, Pilot.”

  Carmine didn't look convinced of that. “As you say.” She smiled, and strummed her fingers over the wheel. “As soon as this is over I’m going to spend as much time as I can with my little cousins. I can hardly wait to have an entire day with their shining faces. Especially little Aubrey, she’s the sweetest thing.”

  “Maybe someday we can all go to meet them,” I suggested.

  “I’d like that,” Carmine said, seeming contented with the notion. “The truth is, I haven’t been any kind of guardian. I’ve told myself that it’s all about the wage. The harder I work, the better off they’ll be. It’s all for them, you know. But I never see them anymore. I hope that it’s worth it.”

  “I’m sure they miss you,” Kyle said.

  “I know they do,” she responded. “Someday I’ll return to my home town with enough money in my pocket to buy them anything they need. I’ll finally have the time to live the life I’ve always wanted.”

  “You’ll get there,” Kyle said, and she smiled affectionately at him.

  I slid my fingers into my pockets, and my right hand fidgeted with the chain of the brassy medallion hidden within the soft folds of cloth. I didn't dare touch the inscriptions.

  “What's it like?” I asked, gazing off at the land. Night was gathering, and I could see the tiniest glimmer of lights at the foot of the mountains. “The North? Is Varion a good leader?”

  Rune exhaled and shook his head.

  “If by good you mean ruthless, then yes,” Carmine answered me. “He is.” Of all people, I thought she would defend the Prince.

  “Most Northerners are zealots,” Rune explained. “They thirst for our blood. Varion doesn't need to draft his soldiers. They go willingly. Every soldier that kills makes a mark upon his skin for that number, and every soldier that dies is immortalized. Their names are etched into the walls of their home city. I've seen it.”

  “You were in the battle of Terrandig?” Carmine asked.

  “Yes,” Rune admitted solemnly. “Beside the name carved is the number of us they've killed. No count is too small or too large to satisfy their pride.”

  I frowned, not wanting to imagine Rune fighting in such a place. Is this why Dragoons were allowed no friends? So they wouldn't mourn the loss of an ally whose life amounted to nothing more than a strike on an enemy's gate? No, it was more than that. Dragoons were isolated, and that made them easier to control. I was beginning to understand Raserion, and the thought of it made me sick to my stomach.

  “When we were at Rocktree Camp, during the battle, I saw the other soldiers. Some of them had Abilities too. Are they considered Dragoons?” I asked.

  “No,” Rune shook his head. “Those were Hussars. Heavy cavalry on flesh-and-blood horses, armed with Abilities, swords and mechanical spears that can fire a three-foot extension. If the Hussar has an elemental Ability, the spear is made of conducive material. Wood for wood. Stone for stone. Metal for metal or electricity. I once fought a Hussar with a flame-throwing spear. The fire did no damage, but I can't say the same for the point of the spearhead.” He rubbed his left arm, reliving the memory. “Anyone with a strong Ability becomes a Hussar, but they're not like us. They're loud and rowdy, disorganized by comparison. But they're strong and clever too.”

  “Pillagers, the lot of them,” Dylan said sourly. “If they take a village, they rob every home barren. Food, drink, coin, and cloth, everything goes. They even steal a daughter or two.”

  “Drunkards and thieves,” Rune confirmed with evident disdain. “With a talent for killing.”

  “So let me get this straight,” Kyle said. “You hate these guys because they're obnoxious robbers, murderers, and kidnappers? If I'm not mistaken, Raserion's cold and organized military kills and drains the life force out of their victims. How is it any different?”

  “It isn't,” Rune said quietly. “And it is. It may seem clear to someone who isn't involved, but when you're in it fighting for your life, things change. How do you not learn to hate the soldier that charges in to kill you? There is no pause, no calling it off, no ba
cking away. All that exists is you, them, and a length of steel swinging down to empty your ribcage. When death stares you in the face, you do what you must. I have seen some skill that I'll admit respect for, but little else.”

  Carmine looked back at us. “You haven't told them about the Empty yet.”

  Rune grimaced. “I hoped to avoid that.”

  “Draining in the West, the Empty in the North. Which Kingdom should be more ashamed of their actions, I wonder,” Dylan mused.

  “Okay, I almost don't want to know. What is the Empty?”

  The look I got from Rune nearly warned me away from the subject, but it was too late. I'd already asked.

  “Now you have to tell us,” Kyle said.

  “Usually when Prince Raserion has won a battle, his Commanders gather the enemy survivors, and if it's authorized, the prisoners are drained,” Dylan began to explain.

  Rune interjected. “If our troops have carts or wagons, the bodies are taken with us back to the nearest Installment Fortress.”

  “And if what I saw in Cape Hill was any indication, they're dropped into those vats that make the glowing blue water,” Dylan finished.

  Victims of draining were still technically alive. Their skin and hair would go all gray. They wouldn't move or blink, eat or sleep. It was like all of their instinct and individualism was stripped away. They were limp and vacant, devoid of color and the essence of who they were. But they would still breathe, and their heart would continue to beat for a few days, maybe even a week, until the body simply ceased to function. In Cape Hill we'd discovered massive tubes compressing such bodies into liquid. This gruesome process seemed to create the dry water of the aquamarine pool that allowed me to cross the vast mountain range between Haven and Breakwater in minutes. I cringed.

  “Likely. But in the case where bodies cannot be loaded and taken away, they're left where they lie.” His voice grew dark, heavy, and he looked at the floor. “It's known that they can't feel anymore– what matters of them is long gone– but some put them to the knife as a kindness. Most Commanders won't allow us to waste that kind of time.

  “Years ago, before I was taken for Dragoon training, the gray bodies of the drained soldiers would go missing. Prince Varion's army would return to the battle sites, searching specifically for those drained. I've never seen it happen during my time with the military, so they must have ended the practice.”

  “The Empty still exist,” Carmine said in an ominous way.

  “Of course they do,” Rune said.

  Our pilot tilted her head. “You've fought them?”

  “Yes,” was all that Rune would say.

  “How?” I asked, not understanding.

  He seemed less than enthusiastic with giving me an answer. “It is said that when the drained soldiers were brought back to the North, Prince Varion would give them a half-life.”

  “They're reanimated,” Dylan added.

  “He brings them back to life?” Kyle asked, wide-eyed.

  Was that the all-powerful Ability he'd stolen from his father, the King?

  “Life? No. Not the way you'd think. The only difference between the Empty and the drained is that they can move their bodies and follow orders. There is no presence of personality, no instinct for survival. They cannot talk or think for themselves, but they can march, and fight, and kill. They don't feel pain, and they don't age, but they need to be told to eat and when to rest.”

  “You seem familiar with them,” Dylan said.

  “Know your enemy,” Rune recited. “Three of them have been locked up in Cape Hill for three decades.”

  “Oh gravity,” I said, feeling a cold wave slip down my back.

  “Don't pity them,” Carmine told me. “They're Empty. They must be hell to fight.”

  Rune nodded slowly. “They injure the same as anyone, but they don't stop until they're struck down with a mortal blow. They never retreat. If they weren't so predictable, we might be losing this war.”

  “We aren't part of we anymore,” Dylan pointed out, and Rune didn't argue with him.

  I shuddered and wrapped my arms around my middle. So this is what we were visiting? “Half-dead soldiers. I don't want to imagine that.”

  “You won't have to imagine for long,” Dylan warned.

  “What if the North Prince is trying to help the drained by giving them another chance?” Kyle mused and even I felt a twinge of sorrow for his innocence.

  “Varion doesn't operate out of charity.” Carmine's lips drew downward to a frown. “The Empty are resources for war. Nothing more than that.”

  I'd hoped that the North would be different, but it was only a different flavor of depravity. Was the whole world insane? Couldn't there be one force for good? A people who sought peace instead of blood? I knew the answer the moment I thought about it. Haven. My country was good, and so were Breakwater and the people on this boat. It wasn't much, but the thought was heartening. I remembered Cape Hill and realized that the citizens there were hardly different from those in Breakwater. It wasn't the populace that was the problem. It was the princes.

  “What is he like?” I asked them. I should be prepared, like Rune. Know your enemy. “Prince Varion.”

  My allies exchanged glances and by their expressions I knew that none of them had ever seen him.

  “He's immortal, like Raserion,” Carmine said. “Hideous and tall. Inhuman, twisted from hundreds of years of war and the corruption of power. I did catch a glimpse of him once, years ago, in Caraway. He addresses his people from within the palace. I was quite far away, but I could still see the immensity of his armor. They say he's so scarred and disfigured, he never takes his helm off in the company of his subjects.”

  Kyle's face drained of color. He must have been battling away the fears of his premonition. After my dream, I could sympathize. These descriptions of the North didn't make me feel altogether welcome. My promise to Kyle still held, though. I wouldn't let him get hurt.

  “You should all get some rest,” Carmine told us. “We'll be in Sheer Town by the morning.”

  Dylan settled into his chair and shuffled his cards. “And place the fate of our lives with a narcoleptic pilot? I'm fine here, thank you. Fresh deal. Who'd like to learn cards?”

  “Sign me up,” I said, dragging a spare chair nearer. “I don't think I'll ever sleep again.”

  Maybe helping Raserion triumph over his brother was the right thing to do. Varion certainly didn't have a sympathetic reputation. I felt the weight of the trinket in my pocket, and considered keeping my promise to the Prince of Shadows.

  Chapter 19: The Port Between Cliffsides

  The pale blue dawn illuminated shelves of slate gray cliffsides. Four hundred feet at their highest points, they dripped with brackish moss and silvery shrubs. Swarms of black and white seabirds crowded the ledges, calling and tattling as they swooped in to land on their lofty nests.

  I could see where Sheer Town got its name. Little more than a village, the stone and wood cottages were pinned between cliffs on either side. A zigzagging road cut up the sloping green gulch that backed the town, disappearing over the summit. I could see the specks of white goats, picking their way up the hill. The few trees here were gnarled and rough, and short palm plants spiked from the ground at the town's edges.

  As Carmine swung the Flying Fish around to the small harbor, I noticed that holes were bored into the ankles of the stone cliffs. I picked up a pair of goggles that hung on hooks beside the helm door and put them on. Running my finger up the dial, I zoomed the goggles in to study the dark shapes that plunged into the rock. There was a dim hint of brass, tucked away.

  “Cannons!” I announced, alarmed. I'd seen the damage that such robust weapons could do. “They've carved tunnels in the cliffs beside the town and they have cannons in each one!”

  “Don't fear, dear one,” Carmine said. “They won't fire at us. The Flying Fish is in their registry. They've seen us coming. They know who we are.”

  “They know ou
r ship, you mean,” Kyle said, sounding worried. “They don't really know who we are.”

  “Obviously, Pet,” Carmine smiled. She was positively worn down. I was amazed she could keep her eyes open at all. Over the night, she'd nearly fallen from her seat another three times. “Just keep your head down and you're mouth closed. We'll do just fine.”

  A metallic wheezing sound came from behind me and I suffered such a jolt I thought my heart might stop.

  Rune was holding something small in his hands. He brought it close to his lips and blew. It was such a strange sound, I wondered if it was meant to be musical.

  “What is that?” I asked. It truly sounded terrible.

  He blew into it again, moving its position against his lips to make different but equally grating sounds.

  “A harmonica.” He held the little metal object up for me to see. Raising it to his lips, he breathed into it and the tone changed as he inhaled and exhaled.

  “If you don't stop that,” Carmine said. “I'll take up arms and send you straight back to Raserion.”

  Rune's harmonica whined pitifully into silence. It was so out of character to see him trying to play an instrument, I caught myself staring at him in bewilderment.

  “Can I see it?” I asked. He handed it over to me and I flipped it in my hands.

  “What are you doing with that anyway?” Carmine asked. “Do you even know how to play it?”

  “Not even a little,” Rune admitted.

  “My turn,” Kyle said. I handed it to him, and before he could blast into it, Carmine snatched it away.

  “Honestly, your lack of respect for music is shameful. Honing a harmonica's sound takes years, and it's not something you inflict on others during your first attempt to play. Now if you don't mind, I'd like to concentrate on not crashing us into that fish-house.”

  “Do you have a guitar?” Rune asked Carmine.

  “Yes, it's– no! I'm not giving you another instrument to butcher. I'm landing, refueling and sleeping,” Carmine said, flipping several switches to bring us into our descent.