Forgotten Ages (The Complete Series)

by Lindsay Buroker

  “Ready?” came a call from the rear.

  “Blessed Akahe, yes!”

  Maybe if they lost the octopus, the Freedom would rise more rapidly. Tikaya tried to turn the rudder so they’d veer away from the gun, but with the engine thrust halted, nothing responded quickly. A whole bank of the weapons came into view, lining the hull, less friendly than bristles on a porcupine. The submarine drifted toward those guns, their course inevitable. She couldn’t tear her gaze from the viewport.

  Between one blink and the next, blackness blotted out the view. Her first thought was that the lamp had been extinguished, but a faint tremor ran through the submarine. Ink, Tikaya realized. The octopus had released the ink in its sac. Had it fled as well? She couldn’t see anything through the blackened viewport.

  Footsteps pounded on the metal deck. “Did it work?” Rias burst into the navigation room. “It felt like it let go.”

  “I think so, but we have another problem.” Tikaya pointed at the viewport, but the black ink hadn’t fully dissipated. “We’re on course to run into—”

  Rias leaped to a control panel on the wall next to her seat and threw four switches.

  “—the side of a Turgonian warship,” Tikaya finished. “What’s that do?”

  “Fill the ballast tanks with air so we’ll rise, but it might not be fast enough.” Rias squinted through the porthole.

  Beyond the fading ink, the rusted railing of the warship came into view. Tikaya stood, fingers pressed against the console. They’d risen past the guns. Maybe they’d clear the entire ship. A smokestack loomed, though, canted toward them on the wreck’s tilted deck.

  Rias slid into the navigation seat, and Tikaya was more than happy to let him take the job back. He fired up the engines again and steered them toward the gap between the smokestack and a second one with its side torn open. They bumped against the first stack, but Rias didn’t flinch. Tikaya heaved a sigh and sagged against the wall.

  “I was afraid to touch anything on that ship,” she admitted when he glanced at her, “after your mention of unexploded munitions.”

  “Ah. They shouldn’t be dangling from the smokestacks.”

  “You wouldn’t think so, but with Turgonians, one never knows.” Tikaya bent down and wrapped a hug around Rias from behind, pressing her cheek to his. She decided not to admit that she’d nearly scared herself to death a couple of times when piloting his creation—he always seemed to think her above that sort of thing—but she let her relief show in the tight embrace.

  Rias was adjusting the controls to take them to the surface, but he paused to grip her arm and lean his temple against hers. “It’s true that there have been instances of defeated Turgonian captains booby-trapping their ships to ensure enemy parties would, ah, blow up, as it were, when attempting to board.”

  “Blow up? Wouldn’t that have caused some of the crew to blow up as well?”

  “All of them, yes. And usually the ship as well, but that kept the enemy from acquiring secret orders or taking the vessel as a war prize.”

  Though Tikaya didn’t break the hug, she did pull her head back, watching Rias out of the corners of her eyes. “They didn’t do such things under orders from their admirals, did they?”

  “There was no need to give such orders, the idea having long since been instilled in them during their academy days.” Rias pointed at the viewport. Rivulets of water ran down the outside. Now on the surface, the submarine bobbed and swayed with the waves.

  After that crazy adventure, Tikaya almost expected it to be dawn, but darkness still hugged the sea. A chronometer on the wall behind Rias’s chair informed her that it’d only been an hour since they’d left the dock. The rum was probably still flowing. Odd to think that all that chaos had gone on beneath the surface and the people above probably had no idea about it. Most of the people anyway. Someone had been controlling that octopus.

  Brought back to the reality that they’d only survived one attack and that the war might just be beginning, Tikaya released Rias from her hug and stood up, though she left her hands on his shoulders. “Did you ever booby trap one of your ships?” she asked. After all, he’d gone to that academy as well, and at a younger—and perhaps more impressionable age—than normal. “Or were you too gifted to ever find yourself in that predicament?”

  “Oh, I found myself in that predicament more often than you’d think, since I had a stubborn determination not to simply equal but to exceed the expectations set forth in my orders. I tended to poke my nose into a lot of burning buildings. But I was always convinced that I could trick or scheme my way out of the situation without blowing up my ship or surrendering my crew.”

  “Since you’re here with me, nearly being eaten by an octopus, it must have worked most of the time.”

  “Yes. My amazing knack for getting myself into trouble was surpassed only by my supreme luck when it came to getting out again, often with results that impressed my superiors. Fortunately, I’ve grown more sedate of late.” Rias leaned his head back and smiled at Tikaya.

  “Are you truly telling me that the Rias I know today is a sedate version of the old one?” Tikaya remembered the way he’d led her through a Nurian warship, determined not simply to escape it but to destroy it in the process and, oh, the one sailing alongside as well. “Are you sure you didn’t simply drive your superiors crazy? Maybe they promoted you through the ranks so quickly so they wouldn’t have to deal with you as a subordinate any longer.”

  Rias blinked a few times, then let out a round of laughter that rang from the metal walls. Tikaya thought it might be his way of expressing his relief that they’d survived the octopus—sturdy submarine or not, he had to have been worried too—but she hadn’t heard such amusement from him since they’d arrived in Kyatt, so she savored it. He even wiped tears from his eyes.

  “I haven’t had anyone suggest that notion to me,” he said when the laughs stilled, “but if I get an opportunity to return to the empire someday, I’ll be certain to run the idea past a few of my former superiors.”

  His expression grew wistful, and Tikaya’s pleasure faded. He must be thinking about how much he missed his home and his old colleagues. Her recent thoughts—that she was asking too much to keep him here—returned and filled her with sadness. She cleared her throat and attempted to tamp down the melancholy feelings. “We’d best get back to the party before all the rum is gone.”

  Rias chuckled. “Indeed. I was abstaining before, but I could use a swig now.”

  “Me too,” Tikaya murmured.

  CHAPTER 15

  By the time the Freedom floated into its berth, most of the revelers had drifted away. Or, Tikaya thought as she glimpsed a familiar scowling figure, maybe they’d been driven away. She’d thought High Minister Jikaymar might be waiting, but it was someone worse. Her father.

  He stood, fists against his hips, wearing what had become a permanent sneer of late. He turned his scowl on Rias, as if he were some juvenile delinquent who’d taken Tikaya out to roam the countryside until all hours, alternating between necking and bashing in old ladies’ mailboxes.

  “Good evening, sir,” Rias said before hopping onto the dock to secure his craft.

  Though they’d reattached to the upper portion of the ship, Tikaya gave the Freedom an uneasy look fore and aft, almost expecting to find an octopus arm dangling from a corner or some other sign that would prove they’d been beneath the water’s surface. Not that it mattered. Despite Rias’s camouflage, someone had known the craft had the ability to submerge—and had been ready for it to do so. If, on their next run, they tried to explore the inaccurately mapped waters near the cliffs, what further troubles would they find?

  “It’s late and you didn’t tell your mother where you were going.” Father’s scowl wasn’t much softer when it landed on Tikaya.

  She wished she could think of something to say to lighten his mood, to bring back the father she remembered. He’d always been a quiet man, one to spend long days out in the fi
elds or in the distillery, always preferring work to the emotional chaos of being in the house with so many family members, but he’d always been fair as well as stern. He’d usually had a smile for his only daughter. Since she’d returned with Rias, Tikaya hadn’t once seen him without his shoulders hunched to his ears and his eyebrows drawn down in a V.

  “I know, Father.” She joined him on the dock. “You didn’t need to come all the way down here. I would have returned.”

  Squeaks sounded as the men who had been manning the portable grill wheeled it toward the boardwalk. “To the peace after the war,” one called to Rias in Turgonian. It was a common before-drinks salutation in the empire, and Tikaya didn’t miss the significance of it being used in this context. Rias lifted a hand and offered only a wry, “Indeed” in response.

  “It’s late. Finish up quickly and go back to your hotel,” Father told Rias, apparently not finding anything odd about ordering around someone who’d once held the rank of fleet admiral. You—” he stabbed a finger at Tikaya, “—come.” He stalked toward the boardwalk.

  Tikaya knew her father wouldn’t approve, but she gave Rias a goodnight hug, lingering long enough to say, “Be careful.”

  “Indeed,” Rias murmured again, returning the hug with one arm since he was holding a mooring line in the other. “I’ll send word when I’ve finished repairs and… additions.”

  Tikaya imagined him adding all manner of weapons to deal with wayward sea creatures that might attack them. She hoped the government would let him. Now that someone knew that he’d gone against their agreement, Rias might find the roadblocks in his path had turned into flaming tar and caltrops. She snorted to herself. She was thinking in terms of Turgonian metaphors now. She hoped no telepaths were about, sniffing at her thoughts.

  “Love you,” she whispered and kissed him—because her father was scowling from the head of the dock—on the cheek.

  She refused to hurry to catch up. She didn’t want to anger Father, but she wanted him to have time to think of how unreasonable he was being. Couldn’t he see that? Couldn’t any of them?

  “Night, Ms. Komitopis,” one of the Turgonians said with a wave for her as she passed.

  She lifted a hand to acknowledge him, but would have preferred people let her pass in silence. Especially Turgonian people. Her father continued on without further glares or comments.

  “Where’s Ell?” she wondered when she caught up with him. She would have thought he’d be one of the last to leave. Maybe his lady had dragged him away. Or maybe he’d had something to do with the incident. He certainly came and went at inopportune times.

  Actually… when Tikaya took another look at the last of those gathered, she realized that only Turgonians remained. They were cleaning up discarded cups and tossing garbage into bins. During the event, there’d been a mix of people. Not many Kyattese natives, true, but lots of other foreigners. She wondered what had happened to dampen the party and cause it to end early. Wrathful octopuses or not, she and Rias hadn’t been gone that long.

  “Sent him home,” Father said, drawing her eye from the docks.

  “And he listened?” Tikaya asked. Even when Ell had been a boy, he hadn’t been very good at listening to her parents or his own.

  Father didn’t answer. He picked up his pace. Tikaya wondered if Mother had promised him she’d clear the house of youngsters for the evening if he hurried home quickly.

  As they left the boardwalk and headed toward a beachfront street with runabouts parked on the sides, Tikaya resolved to come back down and help Rias in the morning. Dean Teailat could let her have a day off.

  “Get in.” Father was holding open the passenger door to the runabout, and he jerked his chin for her to hurry.

  “I—”

  A boom sounded behind them, louder than a cannon being fired.

  Tikaya spun back toward the quay, her jaw plummeting. Orange flames roared into the night, leaping as high as the hilltops behind them, the brilliant intensity brightening the harbor for hundreds of meters in every direction. Shouts of surprise and cries of pain rose over the rumble of the ocean.

  From the hill overlooking the waterfront, Tikaya was too far away to read the dock numbers, but she knew where the explosion had originated. Nobody else would have been a target.

  Her legs seemed to have rooted to the earth, but she forced them to move. He could be injured. He could be—

  No, no thinking like that, she told herself.

  Tikaya started to run toward the quay, but an iron grip caught her by the elbow. Father.

  “You’re not going down there,” he said. “It’s too dangerous.”

  There was no surprise in his voice. No horror. He’d known, she realized numbly. He’d known it was coming. That was why he’d been hurrying her away. That was why he’d sent Ell home. Had he warned all the other Kyattese to leave as well? Was he the one who’d been keeping an eye on her at home too? The one who’d locked away the secrets in the attic?

  Later. It was something to worry about later.

  Tikaya yanked on her arm, but his fingers, strong and calloused from years in the fields, had the tenacity of iron.

  “It’s gone, girl,” Father said. “It’s for the best. One day, you’ll understand.”

  “Understand?” Tikaya cried. “If I ever understand why someone would blow up a good, honorable man whose only crime was being born on the other side of an ocean, I’ll shoot myself.”

  She stomped her foot onto her father’s instep. Her sandal lacked the bone-crunching heft of Turgonian combat boots, but her anger lent it power. Her father gasped and his fingers loosened. This time, Tikaya succeeded in yanking free of his grip. She sprinted down the street, pausing only long enough to tear off her sandals so they wouldn’t slow her down.

  “Tikaya!” came her father’s cry from behind.

  She didn’t glance back. With her bare feet pounding on pavement, then grass, then finally the wood planks at the beginning of the boardwalk, she sprinted toward those flames. She dodged people who were fleeing in the other direction, bumping elbows and shoulders, but barely noticing. Someone tried to grab her arm.

  “Woman, you’re going the wrong way,” a man yelled. “Get out. The whole harbor’s going to burn.”

  Not likely, Tikaya thought without slowing. The cold, calculating minds who had planted the explosion wouldn’t have wanted to harm the Kyattese people or destroy any more of their own property than necessary.

  Ahead, the height and breadth of the fire had lessened as whatever ultra-incendiary fuel it had initially been burning dwindled, but flames continued to roar and wood snapped, flinging burning shards in all directions. The breeze sent smoke inland, stinging Tikaya’s eyes. Her vision blurred, but she kept going as far as she could. Shipyard 4 and Rias’s dock were gone. Utterly and irrevocably. The docks on either side were burning, their pilings and boards charred like skeletons in a funeral pyre. A portion of the boardwalk had collapsed, and water blocked Tikaya’s route. She kept running, of a mind to jump off and swim to the remains of Rias’s dock, despite the flames licking every broken board and piling, despite the heat searing her cheeks with the power of molten lava.

  Before she reached the jumping point, a board broke beneath her foot, and her leg plunged downward. Jagged wood gouged her flesh. Pain flashed up her leg, but she scrambled back, tearing the limb free without worrying about injuring herself. She had to—

  Someone grabbed her from behind.

  Her breath snagging in her throat, Tikaya whirled. She hoped it was Rias and was ready to fling herself into his arms. But it was her father, sweat streaming down his face.

  “Tikaya, there’s nothing you can do out here except get hurt. That freak of a ship is gone.”

  “I don’t care about the slagging ship,” Tikaya growled, hardly noticing the Turgonian curse on her lips. “I have to find Rias.”

  “If he listened to me, he went back to his room before any of this happened.”

  “His
room was burned down! He’s been sleeping out here.” Tikaya thrust her arm toward the flames gnawing at the scorched pilings, all that remained of Rias’s dock.

  Surprise flicked across Father’s face before he clenched his jaw in grim acceptance. “That’s unfortunate then, but he knew he wasn’t welcome. You never should have brought him here.”

  “I?” Tikaya dragged her sleeve across her eyes and nose, knowing the smoke wasn’t entirely to blame for their running. Father was putting this on her shoulders? “I shouldn’t have brought the man I love and that I plan to marry home to meet my family? I’m sorry, but I thought that was the expected thing and that it’d be appreciated more than me disappearing to Turgonia or some other Akahe-forsaken country for the rest of my life. I thought you and Mother would like to see grandchildren if we had them. I thought—” Her voice broke with a choking hiccup. She was shrieking and she knew it, but she couldn’t find control.

  “Sir, ma’am, please return to shore,” called a voice from out on the water. A fireboat had drawn near, the first of several angling toward the flames.

  Footsteps sounded on the boardwalk. Policemen were jogging toward Tikaya and Father.

  “There’s nothing we can do here,” Father said, giving her arm a tug. “Let these people handle it.”

  Tikaya curled her toes around the edge of the boardwalk, as if she could grow roots and become as immovable as a giant palm. Wood floated in the water all around them. More than wood. A body drifted out from beneath the boardwalk, face-up, sightless eyes staring at the sky, flesh burned away like wax on a candle.

  Tikaya clenched her teeth and squinted her eyes shut. It wasn’t Rias, but it was one of the Turgonians who had been helping clean up. If those men hadn’t escaped the flames, how could he have?