He twitched, his gummed eyes refusing to open without effort. When he felt the chilly air on the top of his nose he wanted to wake even less, but he knew he had to. He forced open his eyes to discover the feeble light that came before sunrise. He listened. Muffled voices and footsteps echoed nearby. He pushed aside the thick sacking he used for a blanket and peered over the edge of the roof into the street. A trickle of people were shuffling through the early morning, some carrying torches and lanterns that flickered and rocked their golden glow across the cobbles and stone facades. He spied the shadowy soldiers marshalling the people, channelling them towards the temple for sunrise prayers, and the scene made him angry. Under the laws of the new king, morning, midday and evening prayers were compulsory and the soldiers were ever vigilant to encourage anyone who didn’t obey, beating any recalcitrants and dragging them to the temples. Moving through the streets at prayer time was particularly dangerous because only soldiers and dissenters would be out and about. Runner rolled back into his sleeping nook, pulled the blanket across his shoulders and closed his eyes.
He thought he had dreamed the scraping sound, but a warning went off in his head. He snapped open his eyes to see the boot coming, and rolled with the impact to his feet. Stepping back to avoid the arm reaching for him, he stumbled at the edge of the roof to keep his balance.
‘Take it easy, lad,’ a scratchy voice said. ‘You just need to go to prayer.’
Runner glared at the pair of soldiers in their red uniforms and wondered how they had known to find him on the ruined rooftop. Or was it just chance?
‘Come on, lad,’ the soldier coaxed. ‘Don’t make it hard on yourself.’
Runner coiled his strength and charged at the gap separating the soldiers.
‘Grab him!’ a voice shouted as he pushed between them, and a hand latched onto his shoulder but he twisted, broke free, and bolted for the stairs. He bounded down the stone steps and grabbed a beam on the first floor to swing across a gap to a walkway that led to a blue door into the adjoining building. He scattered roosting pigeons as he landed and wrenched the door open.
The building was a dressmaker’s shop and residence and the door opened into a common room on the top floor. With prayer underway, no one was in the living area, so he quickly descended the wooden stairs to the shop and paused to listen. The soldiers’ footsteps echoed on the stone steps next door, then stopped. One of them swore, realising their quarry had escaped. Runner felt brief satisfaction at his success, but he couldn’t stay in the shop. He assessed the choices: into the street and take his chances; out the back door into a narrow alley and take his chances; or hide in the shop among the fabrics and furniture. The third wasn’t really an option. They knew he was in here. The street was too open and empty. The back way then, he decided.
He weaved through the dressmaker’s multicoloured stock to the narrow room at the back, lined with shelves of material. He startled a ginger cat that arched its back and hissed at him. As he was about to turn the handle, a male voice whispered, ‘Should be any moment.’ He froze. This wasn’t a coincidence. They’d planned to catch him. Who dobbed me in? he wondered. He eased back from the door. That left one option—and he was certain there would be soldiers waiting at the front. So I need to be clever, he thought, and very quick.
Secreted among the hanging dresses and cloaks closest to the entrance, he heard the soldiers enter the shop.
‘He has to be in here,’ one of them said. ‘You look there. I’ll go upstairs.’
Runner tensed. The soldiers had made their first mistake—separating. He hadn’t heard any men enter through the back door so he assumed they were patiently waiting for these two to flush him out. He kept still, resisting his urge to peek out of his hiding place, knowing it was a certain way of being spotted too early. He listened as the soldiers’ boots scraped along the floorboards. One headed up the wooden stairs. The other came perilously close to his hideaway. Hands began pulling aside the clothing on the racks.
Runner burst from the coats and sprinted for the front door, the startled soldier’s cry of alarm sounding in his wake. He wrenched open the door and dived into the street, setting a small white dog barking furiously, and sprinted for the closest alley that would lead to safety. Men shouted behind him, and the thought flashed into his head that they might shoot him because they were carrying the new Ranu peacemakers. But he made it to an alley entrance a short distance across the street and charged in—and came face to face with two more members of the City Watch.
His advantages were his sudden appearance and the fact that they didn’t seem to be part of the group searching for him. For an awkward instant he stared at them and they at him, no one sure of what to do, until he charged. Before the soldiers could react, he was past them, breathing hard and running.
The alley opened into another street. He ran thirty paces before cutting right into another alley. This one weaved like a snake between dark and dilapidated two-storey wooden buildings. It was littered with rubbish and sewage, and ended at a T-junction. He looked back and listened. A man shouted orders, but his voice sounded like he was still in the far street. Runner checked left and right, remembering where each alley led, and had a sudden and all-too-familiar feeling of how wrong it was for the alleys and streets to be empty at sunrise. He remembered how, just recently, people used to go about their morning business or prepare to set off to work at this time of day. Now they were all at the temples, promising Jarudha that they would lead good and honest lives in the hope that he would bring a new paradise to them all. Or locked inside their homes, out of sight of the City Watch.
He heard boots approaching around the bend in the alley. He was surprised that they’d worked out his escape route. Sometimes luck was better than skill. He had one strategy they wouldn’t expect. He turned and ran along the left alley that curved gently towards the main marketplace in the Southern Quarter.
The bell was still ringing as he entered the square and a couple of stragglers were hurrying towards the temple under the City Watch’s attentive eyes. Runner broke into a brisk stride towards the yellow-hued stone building, avoiding the soldiers’ gaze, trying to look penitent. At the entrance, a pair of Jarudhan acolytes in yellow robes offered him a tiny glass of euphoria, but he waved aside the offer. This is one place they won’t come looking for me, he mused as he sank to his knees among the crowd of believers.
CHAPTER SEVEN
King Shadow adjusted his red jacket and the gold and silver medals jingling on his breast pockets, and settled into the plush black coach seat. Sitting opposite were His Eminence Seer Scripture and Seer Word. Shadow smiled at the Jarudhan holy men before nodding to the hordemaster in charge of his bodyguard. When the hordemaster had barked orders and the coach lurched into motion, Shadow removed his red cap and smoothed back his black hair.
‘So, gentlemen, how is Jarudha’s Paradise developing?’ he said.
Word glanced at Scripture before replying. ‘His Eminence is most impressed with your work, Your Highness. The city is already adopting a spiritual air, the people are quickly embracing the new laws, the temples are overflowing with converts, and businessmen have come to terms with the need for prayer three times a day.’
‘My soldiers are stretched,’ Shadow remarked, allowing his irritation to be heard. ‘Converting people to a new lifestyle is demanding on resources.’
‘I heard that your armies are swollen with young men,’ Scripture interjected.
‘Young men and boys who need training,’ Shadow countered. ‘Jarudha cannot be well served by soldiers lacking discipline.’
‘Discipline will come with patience,’ Scripture said, and retreated into the cowl of his blue cloak.
Shadow smiled wryly and transferred his attention to Word. ‘So, tell me about this new miracle.’
‘It has taken a long time,’ Word began, ‘but my colleagues have built an airbird that will outfly the Ranu dragon eggs.’
‘Using drivers,’ said Shadow.
‘I look forward to seeing this,’ Shadow said.
He looked out of the coach window at the houses and shops of the Northern Quarter and settled into a silent reverie of his rise to power and where it would lead. The new realm was proving harder to manage than he had envisaged when he coveted his father’s throne. The Seers were as demanding of him as he’d anticipated, but his faith in Jarudha meant that he could endure what they required by way of service. The cleansing of Port of Joy had been hard; there were significant pockets of resistance to the new laws. The presence of the Ranu was an unexpected complication. The foreigners’ arrival, coinciding with his father’s death, had given him an initial advantage to overthrow his older brother, Prince Inheritor, his father’s proclaimed successor, but now the Ranu president and his ambassadors were looming as a threat to his own future. The Ranu empire extended over all of the known nations bordering the western ocean and news had recently been delivered to his court that the Ranu were invading the Kala nation to the south. How long before they turned their eyes to the Kerwyn kingdom? He had to prepare for the inevitable clash by finding effective methods to assert his kingdom’s superiority. The Seers’ latest invention was a possible key to the future.
‘We wait for the wind to turn,’ the Seer explained. ‘If it comes from the west it will give the airbird better lift.’
‘How can you be sure it will fly?’ Shadow asked, studying the metal and wood contraption standing on the grassy slope.
‘Jarudha will determine that,’ the Seer replied.
‘Seer Creator has a great deal of faith,’ said Word.
‘And a great deal of ingenuity,’ Shadow remarked.
‘This has been a long time in the making,’ Creator explained, his enthusiasm tempered marginally by his piety. ‘My mentors and predecessors did an enormous amount of work in this field. It is written that “In Paradise the sons of men will fly like birds and run like the wind”, so we have long sought to bring the prophecies into being.’
Shadow strolled around the airbird, assessing its components. Long and thin, its red body was designed to carry a man lying flat on his stomach. It had a flat tail resembling the tail of a bird. ‘What are these wires connected to the tail?’ he asked.
‘A bird changes direction and stabilises itself with its tail. The wires are attached to the rider’s feet so he can adjust his position or turn like a bird,’ Creator explained.
Similar wires ran from the body out to the broad wings, which were layered with cloth like bird’s feathers, and on either side of where the rider would lie was a brass and steel object with long curved blades. It reminded Shadow of the oars used in a boat. ‘And these are the drivers?’ he asked.
‘Yes, Your Highness, with the windwheels attached.’
‘Won’t they dig into the ground when they spin?’
‘They would, if we were to use them while the airbird is on the ground,’ said Creator. ‘But the windwheels do not spin until the airbird is aloft.’
‘And when it comes down again?’
‘The rider turns them off as he is about to land. They are balanced and keyed into place by the drivers so they are horizontal when not spinning.’
‘Clever,’ said Shadow, although he didn’t really understand the concept of the machine he was staring at. He appraised the ropes running from the frame to the four horses waiting patiently fifty paces down the slope. Creator said that the horses would provide sufficient speed to lift the airbird into the air, after which the rider would release the ropes by a lever and switch on the mechanical drivers. The drivers would carry the airbird after that. In Shadow’s opinion, only a Jarudhan fanatic could have enough faith to ride the airbird. He loved flying in his old airbird—what people now called dragon eggs, using the Ranu term—but he saw only madness in this new variation.
‘Your Highness,’ Word said, ‘please join us in the viewing pavilion. I feel the wind shifting.’
Shadow acquiesced and, surrounded by his royal retinue of servants and guards, followed the blue-robed Seers to a blue pavilion set at the crest of the hill above the launching area. His attention was drawn to three figures in white standing to the pavilion’s left. ‘Who invited the Ranu?’ he asked.
Seer Word glanced at the three men and said, ‘They invited themselves, Your Highness.’
‘I think it would be prudent if we did not share our secrets,’ Shadow suggested.
‘That is good advice, Your Highness,’ Word agreed, ‘but unfortunately the Ranu have collaborated with us on aspects of the airbird’s construction. The drivers, for example, are Ranu inventions. We lacked the expertise to construct such a light mechanism. They also advised us on how to shape the windwheels for better effect.’
‘And now they will benefit from our risk,’ Shadow argued.
‘It could not be helped, Your Highness,’ Word said apologetically as they entered the pavilion to join Scripture.
Seated with Word and Scripture, Shadow watched the proceedings unfold as the westerly wind strengthened, but he remained conscious of the irritating Ranu presence outside the pavilion. Protocol demanded that he should invite the ambassadors to sit with him to watch the event, but he wanted to make it obvious that their attendance was under sufferance.
An acolyte, wrapped in his yellow robe and attended by other acolytes, emerged from a small tent nearby and headed towards the airbird. Seer Creator spoke to him briefly then led him to the airbird where he directed the strapping of the acolyte into position.
‘The acolyte’s name is Hope. He has been selected for election to the Seers, and if he is able to fulfil Jarudha’s promise of flight this morning then he will be installed immediately,’ Word explained.
‘And if he fails?’ Shadow asked.
‘Then Jarudha has spoken,’ Word replied.
The attendants busied themselves around the airbird, then formed two lines bordering the take-off path. Seer Creator inspected the machine and made some small adjustments as the wind gathered momentum. He squatted beside Hope and gave him final instructions, then stood aside and waved to the two acolytes tending the horses. The acolytes mounted the outer animals, took up tension on the guide ropes attached to the airbird and awaited the next signal. Creator held up his hand and several tense moments passed. Then his hand dropped and the acolytes spurred their horses into action. The ropes wrenched the airbird forward and it trundled noisily and awkwardly down the rough slope, its wings and body shaking violently as the horses accelerated.
Word began a prayer, but Shadow stayed focussed on the unfolding drama. The horses were galloping at full tilt now, levelling out onto the plain, heading towards the rocks and cliffs, and the airbird showed every possibility of rattling apart as it sped down the slope on its hopelessly inadequate wheels. The acolyte rider was probably praying with greater ferocity than Word, Shadow thought. The airbird reached the base of the slope without any sign of taking to the air and Shadow was surprised at how disappointed he felt. He’d doubted the machine would actually fly, especially once he’d inspected it, but had subconsciously hoped for a miracle.
Then, to his astonishment, the airbird leapt off the ground. Like a kite, its nose rose and it climbed rapidly. The guide ropes dropped away. There was a popping noise as the drivers ignited, then a rapid clattering as the windwheels started spinning. The airbird’s nose dipped until the machine levelled out and it headed out to sea, wobbling erratically.
‘It is a miracle!’ Word cried, grabbing Shadow’s arm in his rapture. ‘A Blessing!’
The awe of the acolytes and Shadow’s soldiers melted into realisation, and they cheered wildly, their voices carrying to the pavilion in the steady breeze.
Shadow watched the airbird battle to stay on a steady path, slowly diminishing in size. He wondered if the rider could turn the m
achine. Almost in answer to his thought, the airbird tipped to the left, losing height as it swept in a long arc to the south towards Port of Joy. The men’s cheering faded as the machine vanished below the cliff. The sudden silence seeped into Shadow’s heart, whispering to his earlier disappointment. He stepped out of the pavilion, straining to hear anything that might give cause for hope. He glanced at the Ranu ambassadors who were staring west. What are they thinking? he wondered. Then a voice yelled and, as he looked west, cheering erupted again. The airbird rose above the cliff, wobbling and dipping perilously, and the stuttering of its twin drivers was carried to the watchers on the breeze.
The sudden appearance and noise startled the horses and they bolted from their handlers, but Shadow felt only elation at the chaos and laughed. The little craft drifted lower as it approached the landing area, until it was barely high enough for the windwheels to avoid scuffing the earth, and then the drivers were cut, the windwheels snapped into the horizontal and the airbird glided to the ground. As its landing wheels touched, the machine slewed sideways, spun and flipped over, crumpling into a mess of broken wood, tangled wires and metal.
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