The Defender of Rebel Falls: A Medieval Science Fiction Adventure (The William Whitehall Adventures Book 1)

by Christensen, Erik

  William did his best not to laugh at her frustration, but failed. “I’m sorry, Dayna. I know it seems like I’m ignoring your questions, but really, it’s too much to explain. It’s best you just see it.”

  “See what?” she asked, her lower lip quivering in anger.

  William glanced at Doran, who smiled back and nodded. He turned back to Dayna. “Dragons,” he said.

  “Look,” said Dayna, her finger wagging in William’s face. “If you’re going to mock me, or play games, I’m not going to play along. I spent forever in that office waiting for you to come back, wondering whether you were even alive. The least you can do is treat me like an adult and tell…what on Esper is that?” She backed away from William as a tiny chrome messenger dragon circled him.

  William held out his arm for the dragon to land. “This? It’s a dragon. A small one, though.”

  “William Whitehall?” the dragon asked.

  “There’s no such thing as dragons,” said Dayna, staring in amazement.

  “I think this one would disagree,” said Doran. “Is it a boy or girl dragon?”

  William shrugged. “I have no idea. But they have a social structure like bees, so unless it’s a drone or a queen, it doesn’t matter I guess.”

  “William Whitehall?” the little messenger repeated.

  “I am William Whitehall,” said William.

  The messenger dragon gave a chirp of acknowledgment. “Your presence is requested at the hive of dragons.”

  Dayna shook her head and breathed deep, ragged breaths. “Okay, I know for sure there’s no such thing as talking dragons. There can’t be.”

  “Who requests my presence?” William asked the messenger as he took Dayna’s hand to comfort her.

  “Your presence is requested at the hive of dragons,” it said again.

  “It must not be capable of much more than delivering messages,” said Doran. “But this message is most welcome. I wondered if this day would come.”

  “You and me both,” said William. “Thank you,” he added to the messenger, who then flew away.

  Dayna held William’s arm and did her best to calm herself. “Okay, if I promise to believe in dragons—even talking ones—will you please, in the King’s name, tell me what’s going on?”

  “Dayna, I’m sorry,” said William. “I’ve forgotten how overwhelmed I was when I first met them.” William explained how they had discovered the dragons, and how close they had come to not returning. She stared wide-eyed as he related how the relationship had grown to the point of trade. She gazed at him with open admiration, and William realized he had not done himself any favors. He was grateful when they reached the circle of dragons guarding a much diminished number of rebels, the remainder of whom were shackled to prevent their escape. Doran gazed in awe at the massive silver drones, while Dayna clutched at William’s arm in fear. “They won’t hurt you,” he said. “They know friend from enemy.” She gripped even harder.

  William searched for Mattice. Another scream caught his attention, and he quickly spotted the Captain near the edge of the woods a short distance away. As he expected, he spotted Ray Findlay as well, tied to a tree, blood running down his face shining black in the torchlight. “Dayna, wait here, would you? Sir Hiram and I need to have a chat with Sir Hendrick.”

  “Here?” she asked with a worried glance at the drones. “Do I have to?”

  Doran put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s best you stay here, lass. Or meet us back at the office.” Curiosity overcame fear, and she opted to stay.

  “A word with you, Sir Hendrick, if you please,” William said. The Captain turned to William, but ignored him until he caught notice of Sir Hiram. He left Findlay in the custody of four Guards and approached them. “I remember being on the other end of that sort of treatment,” said William, nodding toward the battered captive.

  “So your memory is intact,” said Mattice. “What of it?”

  “I also remember that it didn’t work. Is it working now?”

  Mattice glanced at Doran, who remained silent. “No. Not yet,” he said. “But I’ve just started.”

  “It’s not really an honorable way to treat a prisoner, is it?” asked William.

  “What does honor have to do with it?” said Mattice. “They treated you worse than this. And I need to find out what he knows.” Mattice turned to leave.

  “So that’s to be your legacy, is it?” asked William. “That you were no worse than a criminal?”

  Mattice strode back and stood toe to toe with William, staring down to exploit his height advantage. “I told you before, Whitehall, I’ve come to respect you,” he said. “And if I didn’t before, I would after tonight. Be that as it may, I still find you arrogant and smug. But that’s not the point.”

  William didn’t flinch, and met the older man’s gaze without wavering. “What’s your point?”

  “I don’t take orders from you.” Again, he turned to leave.

  Doran cleared his throat, and Mattice reluctantly stopped. Slowly, he turned his gaze toward the Administrator. “You do, however, take orders from me,” said Doran. “At least while you are here. And since William is my assistant, his orders are mine.”

  Mattice fumed, but said nothing. William and Sir Hiram waited for him to compose himself. “What are your orders?” he finally asked, pointedly addressing the Administrator. Sir Hiram turned to William.

  William ignored Mattice’s glare and spoke with a firm and clear voice. “Offer amnesty to the first man who tells you what you want to know. Bring them into the office one by one so no one can witness them snitching, and they’ll be more willing to talk. Get confirmation from at least two more. You’ll find out everything you need if you make it clear they have only one chance to talk.”

  The Guard Captain’s face turned crimson. “You expect me to let these criminals go?”

  “Three or so. No more than that. These men can’t do anything without a leader. He’s the one you want,” William said, nodding again at Findlay. “You’ll probably get more details from him later, after he sees a few of his men go free.”

  “This is a stupid plan,” said Mattice. “Is this your order, Sir Hiram?”

  “Yes,” said Sir Hiram. “It is.”

  They got their information and confirmation before the sixth rebel was brought in. The rebels had built another large camp far to the south, but fewer than a dozen men remained there. They had spent the greater part of their force on the desperate gamble that they could drive the people of Rebel Falls away. A large number had spoken against the plan, but Ray Findlay had bullied them into it. The Boss would never have made such a stupid move, the men said. But Findlay convinced them the Boss was being held captive, and that they could spring him free. Even if Antony wasn’t here, they had hoped to capture hostages to trade for his release. William could not find it in himself to rejoice in Antony’s death, but he savored the look on Findlay’s face when he learned that his Boss had died, and that his ill-fated attack had been pointless.

  Purpose or not, it did have an effect, however: the camp was a smoking ruin. Most buildings were now roofless, empty shells; still others were razed to the ground. A few had little more than smoke damage; the printing house was among them, thankfully. In an odd twist of fate, the outlying buildings suffered the least damage, likely because the rebels had not seen them in the dark, or thought them unworthy of attacking. Those left without shelter were taken in by families with homes outside the wall, except for the Guards who quickly built themselves a rough shelter next to the pen where they housed the captive rebels.

  After walking Dayna to her quarters in the print house, William sat with Doran in his office. He had nowhere to sleep now, his quarters being among those buildings damaged beyond use. The Administrator offered him the office cot for the night.

  William declined the offer. “You heard what the messenger said, right?”

  Doran sighed. “We have a lot of work today after what happened tonight.”

>   “Yes, but this is important. It’s why we’re here in the first place.”

  “I know,” said Doran, nodding agreement. “But at least wait until dawn. You can’t be possibly thinking of going tonight.”

  “Actually, that’s exactly what I was thinking,” said William.

  “At night? And you haven’t even spoken to your friends. They won’t be ready.”

  “Well, there’s no way Rachel can go. And I don’t expect Jack will leave her side for a while.”

  “True.”

  “And Maya has patients to care for,” said William.

  “And Charlie won’t leave her, not right after their wedding,” said Sir Hiram. “This is what I mean, William. You can’t go walking through the woods alone. You of all people should know that.”

  “I’m hoping not to be alone,” said William, a smile slowly spreading across his face. “Or walking.”

  “I don’t understand…Oh!” said Doran as William’s meaning became evident. “Do you think it’s even possible?”

  “If it isn’t, then I’ll wait. The message did say ‘requested.’”

  William left the office and found a few remaining drones still guarding the captured rebels. After a quick discussion with the largest, he sprinted to the smoking remains of his sleeping quarters. He grabbed his pack, which had survived by some miracle. He found his cloak and wrapped himself despite the heat of the summer night and the burning embers around him. He would need to dress warmly.

  It would be cold where he was going.

  The success of the Kingdom as a method of government has been due to its centralization. The personality of the King permeates all facets of life, so much so that the Kingdom itself can be said to take on a similar temperament. During the reign of Stephen the Great, most Dukedoms enjoyed a period of expansion, and calculated risk-taking was the norm. When Duncan ascended the throne more than a century later, growth was largely abandoned in favor of certainty and security.

  The common thread throughout all reigns has been peace. That all people, be they commoner or lord, look to one authority, has rendered armed conflict on a large scale near impossible.

  Planet of Hope: A History of Esperanza

  He’d only read about it in stories before. Now it was about to be real—he was about to fly on the back of a dragon. William knew humans had flown before, but that was back on Earth. Even so, it could not compare to what he was about to experience: soaring through the open air as he had dreamed so often, but never once believed possible.

  Guilt tempered his excitement. He was leaving behind a huge mess, not one of his doing, but one he ought to be helping to clean up. The final count wasn’t in, but early reports listed six deaths among the inhabitants of Rebel Falls. A young family had gotten trapped in a burning bunk house, and two laborers were caught outside the palisade by the rebels. William hoped their deaths had been quick.

  The rebels suffered many more losses, mostly during the drone attack. The Guards, too, took their toll, and Rachel had certainly inflicted damage before she fell from the tower. If the blood on his sword indicated anything, William himself had likely taken lives as well. He shuddered, and pushed the images from his mind.

  But for all the carnage and injury and death, it was leaving without his friends that he hated most. Hadn’t they also earned this right? By what privilege should he experience what they could not? Until now they had shared everything together, but now he was leaving without even telling them—again. After a long, sweeping glance at the carnage around him, he climbed atop the dragon’s back.

  “What name shall I call you?” William asked the drone.

  “I am a drone,” said the dragon.

  William sighed. If unique dragons such as the Elder and the Ambassador were denied the value of a name, how could a single drone among many need one? “There are many drones in your hive. If I wanted to speak to you, and only you, how would I ask for you?”

  “I am the oldest of my den of twelve,” said the drone. “I am also the largest. Is this what you wish to know?”

  “I can’t call you ‘biggest and oldest of twelve.’ I’ll call you Apollo. He was one of our old gods, but it was also what we named the first ships to fly people to another world.”

  The silver beast craned its neck to look back at William. “I do not know what gods and ships are, but I am only flying to the hive.”

  William laughed until he could barely breathe. “That will be fine. I am most grateful, Apollo.”

  Sitting in front of the beast’s wings was more comfortable than he would have guessed. He rested his back on the spinal ridge behind him and gripped the spikes at the base of the neck in front of him. His legs dangled on either side, and if need be he could squeeze them for a better grip. Apollo assured him he was barely a burden at all. How heavy was the dragon that his own weight was so negligible? And how much strength did it take to fly? It seemed beyond possibility for something so large to be able to soar through the sky, and yet he had seen it with his own eyes.

  No one witnessed his departure. He preferred it that way: no fanfare and no questions. This was a first, for both him and all humanity, and if his friends could not share it, then no one else should either. He felt himself pressed against the dragon’s back as its huge wings beat against the air, lifting them far above the trees in just a few seconds. If not for his strength, William might have been impaled on the neck spines, but he held fast.

  William gasped at the spectacle as Apollo wheeled around to gain altitude. Fires burned below them; mostly campfires where the Guards slept, but a few smoldering buildings too. Smoke rose in columns, obscuring the night sky in patches. As they turned north the campfires near the gold-panning beach came into view, and far in the distance silhouettes of hills stood against the night sky.

  They flew upstream toward the mountains. William caught his breath as they neared the falls, the mist glowing white with reflected moonlight. Behind them, the river snaked westward, its rippled surface matching Apollo’s silver scales. No duke or king had ever seen such a sight, nor had any wealthy tradesman ever bought such a view. This was his alone to experience, something beyond wealth or treasure.

  The wind in his face told him they were going faster than he had before, even on horseback, but perhaps even that wasn’t saying enough. Until he glimpsed sun rising over the mountains he hadn’t realized how quickly they had flown. What had taken three days to walk at their fastest pace had been covered in no more than a couple of hours. The blazing sunrise warmed him, and the snowy peaks below him glowed like a kiln stoked by the fierce wind. Silver threads trickled from the mountain crucible and converged, its wealth flowing west to feed the forges downstream.

  They landed high atop the mountain, and William slid off the dragon’s back and rubbed his aching legs. “Thank you, Apollo,” he said to the dragon, flexing his fingers to relieve the pain from holding on. The drone nodded toward a well-concealed tunnel entrance. The snow was not thick, but the cold wind bit into William’s exposed skin. He hadn’t slept in nearly a day, and much of the night had been spent in furious battle. Fatigue was finally catching up to him. His knees shook as he approached the entrance, and he found the Ambassador waiting for him. “Hello, Hermes,” he said. “I believe the Elder is expecting me.”

  “Hello, William Whitehall. Welcome again. You are expected, indeed. But where are your friends?”

  “Rachel was injured in the attack, and the others are tending to the damage and the wounded. By the way, do we have you to thank for the drones’ aid? If not for them, we would not have survived.”

  “I do not make such decisions, William Whitehall. I am a liaison only. But I am gratified they made a difference.”

  “Shall we head to the Elder’s den?” asked William.

  “A moment, please.” The Ambassador summoned a messenger and whistled to it before it flitted down the tunnel. “Let us proceed,” he said to William as he led the way.

  This tunnel was new to Willia
m, and it appeared to be well used. Its entrance was much higher than any he had seen before, and was probably the most secure as well, as airborne dragons could use it without divulging it to ground dwellers. After descending for several minutes William recognized the main tunnel they had first stumbled into months earlier. They passed the fire and smoke of the smelting chambers and approached the Elder’s den, but to William’s surprise they continued past it. The Elder’s bulk bound him to his room, so they couldn’t be meeting him elsewhere. So where were they going? Then William recalled the Ambassador’s exact words. His heart thumped at the expectation growing in his mind.

  They soon arrived at a spacious den, so brightly lit that it took a moment for his eyes to adjust. When they did he found himself facing the most wondrous creature he had ever seen. She was shaped like other dragons, but more slender and graceful. Her coloring—if it could be called that—made her body appear crystalline, though not transparent. Light seemed to emanate from her, her sleek curves bending and twisting it, making it appear as though she herself was the source of light.

  Her markings were gold, in both color and luster. William was certain it was real gold; if so, it would explain why the Elder said they needed so much. It colored the tips of her spines and the ridge on her back, and swirled in delicate thread-like patterns along her face and body. It evoked in William a feeling of reverence, as though he were staring at a throne, or a crown. William was loyal to King Duncan, but he had never felt anything as compelling as this. He could only imagine how it must affect the other members of her own people. No doubt they would give their lives for her; not for the colony’s benefit, but simply because she asked it. She peered down from her pedestal and rose to full height as he approached. The sight struck him dumb with awe. He stopped a respectful distance from her and waited.

  “Welcome, William Whitehall.” Her voice, like clear liquid music, both enchanted and relaxed him. “I am saddened that your friend was hurt. But news that your attackers were defeated was most welcome. I hope my drones deported themselves honorably.”