In the storm of the battle, it was this tiny fragment of memory that had eluded Gerdy.
It seemed Epiman wasn’t going to show. Gerdy had to do something. Well, not her, she had to tell Myra to do something.
She attempted telepathy. She spoke into Epik, Catarina, and Myra’s minds.
You need to gift your magic.
To who? both Myra and Catarina thought at once.
Whom, Epik corrected.
Wait… who’s doing the gifting?
Myra, Gerdy thought confidently, gift magic to Cat.
Really? Epik questioned the wisdom of that.
Really. But I need you to do something as well.
What?
Hold out your arm. She’ll need a drop of your blood.
But my knife, Catarina thought.
I’m going to throw you this sliver of lance.
Do it now! Epik thought.
And Gerdy felt Myra’s magic spirit between them.
Gerdy had already won Epik’s trust a thousand times over. The halfling rolled up a sleeve as slyly as he could manage.
“Son, I said it’s time you show your face,” the Grand Sovereign hissed, menacing, his eyes still locked on the castle.
And like the obstinate son who won’t come to dinner when playing with toys, a moment later Epiman appeared on the deck.
“I was beginning to wonder,” the Grand Sovereign gloated. “I sense all your cards have been played. Funny because I’m still carrying a trick up my sleeve.”
Epiman nodded. Smiling, he took stock of his delegation. “That’s where we always differed, Father. Your foresight only stretches so far. And tricks are only used to win a hand. It’s hands that are used to win the game.”
It happened at the same time.
The Grand Sovereign spun, catching sight of it far too late.
Gerdy tossed the stick. Catarina stabbed the tip of it into Epik’s pointer finger. A droplet of red blood slid down the wood.
Catarina’s eyes closed, darkened, and went black.
The Grand Sovereign glanced briefly at his hands before they were no longer hands at all. The whole of him turned to a wraith, a swirling mass of dark gray mist.
His clothes, his ring, fell together. The ring clattered to the deck and bounced away.
For a moment, Gerdy feared she’d done the wrong thing. She feared he’d grow stronger somehow. She feared he’d use this form to wreak more havoc. And possibly Catarina would turn on them, too.
Then Captain Todder picked up the ring.
Todder studied the ring. Without a thought, he casually slipped it on his pinky finger where it fit snugly next to his giant knuckle.
And the swirling ball of mist, the wraith that had once been the Grand Sovereign, fizzled into nothingness.
“How’d that happen?” Myra asked, astonished.
Epiman smiled at his daughter. “It might be a tad complicated,” he said, his voice equals parts Gabby and his own nasal kingly inflection.
It was Epik who answered. “Todder is the rightful heir, the owner of Schmilda’s ring. The Grand Sovereign was one of two children—and he never deserved to wear it. And somehow, I think the ring knew Schmilda’s wishes. She spent a lot of time with Todder over the past few days.”
“All right, maybe less complex than I anticipated.” Epiman again took stock of them. “Now,” he said, “does any one of you know how to get this monstrosity back to the ground?”
42
Many Partings
“What did you dream about?” Myra’s breath was hot on Gerdy’s neck. They shared a pillow. Gerdy pushed her head back into it, yawning. She opened her eyes to see Myra smiling at her cheekily.
The only trace left of either of their magic was with them in dreams. “Oh, a little of this, a little of that,” Gerdy laughed. “You might’ve been there.”
She managed another stretch before Myra swooped in to kiss her. But before Myra could, Gerdy fastened her lips tightly. “Mye... morning breath…”
“I don’t mind, if you don’t.”
Gerdy pulled the covers over her mouth. She could taste how off her own breath was. “I always thought princesses lived more glamorous lifestyles, free of things like morning breath.”
“And now you know the truth. Besides, morning breath—it’s better than no breath at all. Are you still in for making this official?”
Gerdy was. She very much was.
In less than a month, the two would exchange vows and become princess and princess. Gerdy’s insides wriggled with nerves, though the day was far enough away—for now. Gerdy still struggled with the thought of how many people would turn up—men, women, dwarves, elves, and a halfling.
Of course, the whole of Gerdy’s dwarven side would be there, helmets gleaming. And Myra’s mother with her elf clan had promised to attend. The day would be a spectacle for the kingdom—a celebration, not only for the girls, but for the end they brought to the war.
But the thing was, Gerdy didn’t want a spectacle. She just wanted Myra.
Gerdy smiled, knowing she had her, both day and night. Always.
Myra tugged down the covers. There was a magical gleam in her eyes. And for both of them, that was enough.
Across the castle, in his new quarters, Duke Albert Todder of World’s Eye was getting out of bed. His body hadn’t felt so rejuvenated after a night of sleep since he was a boy—if then. The bed at his gran’s was lumpier than her porridge.
And Todder hazily remembered the growing pains, the ache in his legs, the soreness in his joints… the tingle in his brain. On those nights, his gran always drafted him a sleeping potion to help him back to sleep. The thought jogged something in his memory. He’d almost put the pieces together—almost—when he heard a faint knocking at his door.
“Yeah?” he barked. “I’m comin’. Who is it?”
The door opened slowly; a woman poked her head inside. She was beautiful as Todder remembered. Her red hair framed her face. The two beauty marks were there, unsullied by makeup.
“Ashah,” Todder said. “I thought you… Epik said you…”
“I disappeared. For all intents and purposes, I was dead. I had to be. Epik had to do this on his own.”
Todder ushered her into his room, struggling to put all of his thoughts in order. He realized something now, something that had troubled him since his time at the Coven’s cottage.
“But… You were there the whole time… Dora,” he said. “You kept runnin’ away from the room or turnin’ that lovely head.”
“Yes, I was afraid you’d figure me out.” She smiled. “I knew there was more to you, Albert Todder. It was hidden inside all along.”
It was Todder’s turn to smile, but he did so sadly. He could always tell when it was goodbye.
“Where are you off to now, then? Back to the Coven?”
“No,” she said, “I need to see Kavya and Catarina to their home across the sea. They’ve decided to start a coven of their own. Catarina split the magic Myra gifted to her between them.”
“And then what?”
And then Ashah kissed him—using the best way ever found to get out of saying something better left unsaid.
Not too far down the hall, Epik was in a similar situation.
“For the best?” Epik asked. “How can it be for the best? I thought… I thought you loved me.”
“Oh, Epik, I do. But I’m not ready for all this.” She brought her hands up and motioned, swirling around like she was shooing a fly. The motion said More Than Words. It said the castle, the kingdom, Epik’s status as prince. It said she wasn’t ready for any of it—much less all of it.
“So, it’s goodbye then?”
“For now… But remember, I can always talk to you.” She pointed to her forehead.
“It’s not the same,” Epik said. Of all of the things to happen over the past few days, this was the most surprising. Taking down a dark lord, sure, he’d at least seen that one coming. The re-Investiture as the Prince of
King’s Way, wasn’t nearly as surprising as this.
“I do love you,” she kissed his cheek, “and I always will. But we have to put right a lot of wrongs. I have to see my mother again. You understand?”
Epik nodded. And perhaps a part of him—a very small part—did.
The airship stayed docked in Dune All-En’s harbor for a time. Rusty and Anhog took stock of it in the interest of building more ships like it. And for a few days, the crew stayed aboard, helping with repairs.
Today meant the start of shore leave.
On the dock, Brendan was shaking hands and thanking each and every one of his crew for their valor on this cruise. Surviving a crash, rebuilding a ship, and saving the kingdoms, they were now jingling with medals for each of these deeds. A placard hung by the wheel acknowledged Peter and the other members of the crew who had died or were missing.
Causeway, Anderson, Gussow, Torres, and Hanlon all stepped casually off the ship and bid their skipper a cheerful farewell.
“I’ll see you in a few weeks,” Brendan said.
Next came Amber, followed by Millie and Ursa, and behind them were the dozen or so children. There was some trepidation in the former wraiths as they looked wide-eyed at an unfamiliar city. But past that, there was joy in their faces.
Brendan stopped them.
“Hey, I was thinking. Ya know, being admiral… the pay is good. I’ve got this big house with a lot of rooms. Are any of you interested in one?”
Millie who was already fast friends with Amber looked at her questioningly.
Amber shrugged, and she put her arms around Millie and Ursa. “I know we’re in,” she said. “Trust me ladies, anything’s better than my brother’s place.”
There was general agreement among the other children as well.
“All right, let’s go.”
And the aeronauts, new and old, followed Brendan to his home in the city.
43
Epilogue
It was late in the evening when Epik trudged into King Epiman’s throne room. The trudge spoke more of heartache than trepidation. The halfling wasn’t as timid upon entering the chamber now, though entering knowing exactly who Epiman was was still fresh. Epiman, his father, the Grand Sovereign’s son, Gabby, the shadow, all of them were Epiman in some way.
Epiman scribbled something on parchment. “Come in,” he said without looking up. “And please, sit down.”
A cozy fabric chair across the ornate desk looked weirdly out of place. But Epik took a seat anyway. He sank down. It was comfortable. The situation, however, was less so.
“I don’t know what to say,” Epik said.
“Then perhaps, allow me to start.”
Epik nodded.
“First off, I’ll say I’m sorry.”
It’s a good start, Epik thought.
Epiman continued, “I treated both you and your sister poorly. For some reason, I lost sight of everything. In looking to the future, seeing to the beyond, I focused on planning and not on what truly mattered—matters.”
Epik still wasn’t sure that Epiman understood what truly mattered. Then again, Epik had no room to talk. He’d just lost Kavya after all. But was that his fault?
“There’s a lot I still don’t understand,” Epik said. “Was it supposed to end this way? Did I do what I was supposed to?”
Epiman steepled his fingers and smiled. “When I see into the future, I don’t see how things unfold. I only get glimpses, tiny silhouettes of what may come. I have a choice—to let things play out to the conclusion or to act. Then I might get a new glimpse based on the action. What happened here was action and reaction, over and over again. I think things turned out all right.”
“I guess.” Epik hadn’t forgotten Kavya. Things there weren’t exactly what he would deem ‘all right.’ Wasn’t the hero supposed to get the girl? Was he even the hero? Or were they all heroes?
“Did you see your grandmother today?”
Epik nodded. “She… she’d given me her magic. Like you did, and then she vanished. I thought—”
“You thought she died. Did you think I would do the same?”
Epik shrugged.
“Is that what you hoped? Are you ready to become king?” Epiman asked, not unkindly. He grinned.
“No,” Epik sputtered, “definitely not. I’m not really sure I’m ready to be a prince, either.”
“I gave you most of my magic, ninety-nine percent of it. I thought that would do. My mother, she’s a different sort. I don’t claim to know how much she has in reserve. But her plans stretch farther than mine.”
“I gave up all of mine to those troops. Well, except just enough to protect my soul. I figured everyone having a little magic is better than few having too much.”
“It’s a bit socialist,” Epiman chided, “you’re definitely not ready to be king.”
“The Coven, they were responsible in a way. Schmilda’s sons, Todder’s granny, how did your mother get wrapped up in it all?”
“A story for another time. She’s no saint, my mother. We all mistakes. Hers are some we’ve yet to deal with. And mine, well, I have a feeling we’ll have to deal with those soon.”
“Your mistakes?”
“To err is not only human—wizards, halflings, dwarves, we all make them. You’ll understand in time. One such mistake was sending a shadow to do a father’s job.”
“You’re forgiven,” Epik said, a little too hastily.
“You don’t need forgive me. If it’s okay with you, I’ll spend the rest of my life making up for it. And speaking of shadows, I hear your shadow enjoys the skies. He and another shadow—the girl’s, they took the last airship out on a joy run, I think.”
“Trace,” Epik corrected. “My shadow likes to be called Trace.”
Epiman nodded. “It suits him. Mine always liked to be called Barnaby.”
In the sky above the city, Trace studied the horizon. The sky was painted pink, the sun setting—its yellow rays were a distant beacon against the purpling above the airship.
Something about the whole scene made the shadow’s stomach lurch. Which was odd because he had no stomach.
Why? Trace wondered. Why did the scene feel off—he knew why he didn’t have a stomach.
The view was majestic. Another shadow skulked around behind him. She took the wheel.
Or course, they’d helped to save the kingdom—more than the kingdom, really—three kingdoms. The Grand Sovereign overthrown, his wicked magic had died with him.
So, why did Trace feel as if something else was wrong?
He climbed the rail on the bow and looked down at the world beneath the airship flashing by in brown and green—the first hints that spring had arrived.
Then it hit him. Epik’s dream. The thing about being a shadow was Trace would always be plagued by the same dreams as his other half.
The blurring of the ground, the cotton candy sky, Trace knew he shouldn’t look over. He should steer his eyes away.
But he couldn’t.
Trace turned his head just a little to the right, and he saw—it there amidst the clouds: the black silhouette of a dragon. But when Trace turned to face it full on, the shadow and the being attached to it were gone.
The End
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While this concludes the first Epik Fantasy trilogy, there are still a few questions left to answer. Epik and his companions will return. Sign up to the mailing list at freebook.williamtylerdavis.com to read two spinoff stories. TROLLS All the Way Down, Boulder’s story after Hero in a Halfling and The Great Ranger, a trilogy of Coe side stories. Both Boulder and Coe make their epic returns in the next book
. Doctor’s note: the air in Dune All-En is not recommended for long term use.
2. Much unlike that sulfur smell when you drink milk… Or is that just me? See also: Lactose Intolerance.
3. Cryotherapy…
; 4. Much like painting a fence.
5. Get it? ;)
6. The benefits of youth.
7. For the TV show, see Galavant.
8. The way to develop accuracy is throwing it at a wall.
9. As it so happens, a migraine can be defined in the exact opposite way: one brain speaking as two.
10. See… She’s kind.
11. Without the bats and samurai swords.
2. With the exception, of course, being roads.
3. And like any good project manager, Brendan had no clue when that would be.
4. There is no way to describe getting off a moving broom other than falling. One doesn’t climb or jump off it. One simply falls and hopes for the best.
5. This is one of those plays on words, a pun. The dwarfish word for “ask” is spelt and pronounced axe. I think the reason is obvious.
6. There was no bridge for Brendan and the demon wraith to fall from. No possibility of him coming back later as Brendan, the white guy.
7. It most definitely is! On my TODO List.
8. And knowing Todder’s granny, probably in her spit, as well.
9. Of scum and villainy.
20. Author’s note. Sanchez doesn’t feature in the rest of this story. He lived to be 206 in cat years. He fathered a great number of kittens. And though Sanchez never got over the betrayal of being left in King’s Way, he did find a home with a nice warm fire and milk in a saucer once a week. Oh, and a human of his very own. He called her toots.
21. The real trick is cleaning up the invisible horse poop piled up in the living room.
22. The Grand Sovereign’s auto-pilot pilot.
23. Feet!
Sight Beyond Epik Sight: A Steampunk Fantasy Romp (Epik Fantasy Book 3) Page 19
