The Reminiscent Exile Series, Books 1-3: Distant Star, Broken Quill, Knight Fall

by Joe Ducie

  “What? And you will?”

  I nodded and caressed the hilt of my sword. “More than likely, given my status, but you should be treated as a guest. I don’t care if they take my star iron blade, but I’d rather hang on to Myth for as long as we can. It’ll make a good bargaining chip further down the line, if nothing else—or make for a quick getaway.”

  Tia chuckled. “Rule One—always have a back-up plan.”

  “They taught some of us too well,” I agreed.

  *~*~*~*

  We mingled in with the crowds, somewhat, given that I was an infamous exile, Tia was supposed to be dead, and Annie had never even set foot in the palace before five minutes ago.

  The vast, cathedral-like central dome of the Forgetful Library was aflutter with activity. Scribes dressed in dusty robes carried stacks of books ten feet high, teetering back and forth but never falling—the ease of long practice. Narrow desks stretched around the dome in a half circle, and golden stanchions roped off with red velvet formed orderly lines for all the people requesting access to the library’s catalogues.

  That strong, heady scent of old leather and vanilla permeated the air. I almost felt, for a moment, that I was back in my shop. But there was no scotch to be had here, and already I was attracting one or two stares and looks of uncertain disbelief. Surely that couldn’t be Declan Hale—I could almost hear the thoughts swirling around me.

  “People are staring,” Annie said tightly, wise enough not to actually use my name out in the open.

  “They’re just wondering how a guy like me can be lucky enough to have a beautiful woman on each arm.”

  Tia snorted. “Actually, I think they’re trying to decide whether or not someone needs to come and cut your head off.”

  In the end, it only took mere minutes for word to spread far and wide enough through the halls and twisting corridors of the palace to reach the ears of a Knight. Just as Annie, Tia, and myself were about to exit the Forgetful Library, we were met by a tall, older woman with short grey hair, wearing the dress robes of a Sentinel and resting her hand on the hilt of a curved Infernal blade.

  She looked me up and down once, took note of my ruined eye, and nodded to herself. “Well aren’t you a sorry sight,” she said. “How did you get into the palace, Declan?”

  “Hell, what makes you think I ever left?”

  At that, she cracked half a smile. “With me,” she said. “Infirmary first, then you’re here to see your brother, I suppose?”

  “Kinda felt like he was extending me an invitation, what with withdrawing all the Knights from True Earth and leaving Perth at the mercy of a creature that makes Voidlings look like fluffy kittens. How’ve you been, by the way, Instructor Marty?”

  Glancing from Annie to Tia, the old Knight shrugged. “Didn’t think you remembered me, lad. You blazed through my warding course so fast you were almost a blur.”

  Instructor Marty led us under her Knightly guard to the banks of ornate golden elevators used by the Knights to zoom up and down and around the palace. The Healers held offices on every few floors, and the nearest from memory was just two stops away. Using her special code on the gilded panel, which held a few hundred varied buttons, we made good time.

  I got the sense that I wasn’t altogether unexpected, which put me a touch more at ease.

  The young healer on duty almost fainted when she realized who I was, and it was only after a gruff word from Instructor Marty that she set to work on healing my eye. I was lying on a clinical hospital bed, and if not for the healer’s glowing hands, it could’ve passed for a room back on True Earth. After a few minutes of her shaking hand pressing against my face, I felt the ache diminish to almost nothing. However, I still couldn’t see. I told my healer as much.

  “Might have left it too long,” she said. “When were you injured?”

  “Four or five hours ago.”

  She shook her head. “Has to be delicate work on something as fragile as an eye. Is the pain diminished? Good. You’ll have to come back tomorrow when Wiser Delaney is on duty. Eyes are her specialty.”

  Turning on her heel, my young healer dashed from the room, only to return half a minute later with a simple black leather eye patch and strict instructions to keep the wound clean. With a grumble of disagreement, I slipped the patch over my blinded left eye and promised to do just that. The band snapped over my ear and pulled at my hair.

  “Declan,” Tia remarked. “You’re a pirate.”

  “Then get me some rum,” I muttered.

  Instructor Marty grunted. “They’ll know you’re here by now, Hale. Best we get you upstairs to see your brother.”

  “Argh,” I agreed.

  A quick trip up in the lifts took us to the Throne Room, shooting past the floors containing the Forgetful Library, the courts, the Infernal Academy, and almost rising to the summit of the Fae Palace. It had only been three months since my last appearance before the Dragon Throne. Set in a chamber of ornate marble on the topmost floor of the palace, as vast as an ancient Roman pantheon, the Throne Room was all shafts of vaulted sunlight and fancy marble pillars. Everything in this palace seemed to be some variation on marble and crystal. All that splendor could get a little tiring after a while.

  At least, that’s what I thought as the elevator doors slid open on silent hinges and Annie, Tia, Instructor Marty, and I stepped out into cool air at the back of the large chamber.

  “Oh my,” Annie said, and her voice echoed throughout the space.

  Last time I’d been here, the pews had been full of important people, and a guard of at least a hundred Knights had patrolled the perimeter. I’d also been handcuffed in bands of star iron to prevent me from accessing my Will. That, at least, was the same. Now the chamber was all but empty, save for a few souls standing on the dais before the Dragon Throne—a chair purportedly forged from the bones of an ancient menace, a dragon of inconceivable might bested by the Knights.

  My shoulders back and my head held tall, I marched between the rows of pews toward the dais and the Knights gathered there. My companions followed in my wake. It was only when I got a good look at the man on the throne that my pace faltered and I became uncertain.

  Seated on the Dragon Throne was not my hale and hearty brother but an old man. With a start I recognized him. The so-called King of Ascension City.

  “Declan,” Jon Faraday rasped, looking for all the worlds like a man two hundred years old and left out in the sun for too long. “You are late...”

  Chapter Twenty

  Sundown Brother

  I gaped as if I were a goldfish for a few seconds until I remembered where I was and what was on the line. Then I cleared my throat and strolled across to the dais before the Dragon Throne as though I had every right to be there. Moving past rows of empty pews peppered with false-light fading through the vast, marble pillars lining the perimeter of the room, I doffed an invisible hat and gestured widely with my arms.

  “Forgive my tardiness, brother,” I said, feigning pretense with the best of them, “I was unavoidably delayed. You remember Tia Moreau? Back from the dead, Jon. All the cool kids are doing it. What in sweet unholy hell happened to you?”

  Faraday licked his lips and managed a small, uneven rasp that tried to be a chuckle. He waved at one of his advisors, a tall man with salt-and-pepper hair above a sharp face and a firm chin, standing resplendent in the midnight-blue dress uniform of the Knights Infernal. He wore a curved scimitar on his hip—an Infernal Blade unless I missed my guess. The man stepped forward and pointed a long bony finger at me.

  “Declan Hale,” he said. “Once Commander of the Cascade Fleet. Once Arbiter of the Knights Infernal. Now shadowless, exiled... immortal.”

  “Do I know you, hotshot?” I asked.

  “I do,” Annie said, squinting at the man with her hands on her hips.

  That threw me for a second. “Eh... you do? We’re a little far from home here, Annie.”

  She stared at the man—my ailing brother’s ch
osen voice piece. “You’re the Minister for Foreign Affairs,” she said. “The Australian Minister for Foreign Affairs. Peter something... Peter—”

  “Drax,” he said. “Arbiter Peter Drax. And you are?”

  “Annie Brie. I’m a detective with the WA Police.”

  The council of lords and ladies, Knights of varying power and respect, murmured angrily at that and cast me disapproving frowns that could have possibly quelled me fifteen odd years ago. Now I just wanted a drink.

  Drax glared at me, positively furious. “You involved local law enforcement in our affairs?” he hissed. “Even you, Hale, should know better.”

  “Get over it quick,” I said, “and let’s get to the heart of all this nonsense. What’s happened to my brother? Why was I expected? Why, for the love of Atlantis, have you abandoned True Earth? Or are you going to pretend you don’t know about the demonic fire-breathing madman running around Perth? He’s slaughtered dozens and maybe hundreds by now.”

  “Emissary,” Faraday breathed. He pressed a hand against his wrinkled forehead as if the word pained him.

  “Do not presume to lecture this court, boy,” Drax said. “We’re not to be—”

  Oh for the love of— “What? Taken lightly? Trifled with? You are all very scary and powerful, but do not forget who you’re talking to, Petey.”

  “Gentlemen,” the pretty little thing on my brother’s left said. I knew this woman from years ago, but her name escaped me. “Shall we behave with a touch more decorum? We are standing in the heart of human civilization, after all. The first and last bastion against the Void.”

  “Arbiter Delia,” I said, her name popping into my mind, and gave her a respectful nod. “How lovely to see you again. You’re well, I hope?”

  “You were never one for triviality, Declan.” Delia smiled at me—warmly—but her eyes settled on Tia. “Commander Moreau, I’m sure you have quite the story to tell. We considered you long dead, my dear.”

  Tia shrugged, and despite her early bravado I sensed she was afraid—terribly so. “I may as well have been, Lady Arbiter.”

  “We shall talk after this council concludes its business with Declan,” she said, making it a statement.

  Fenton Creed, my brother’s right hand man, stepped forward just to the left of the Dragon Throne. He squeezed Faraday’s shoulder as he walked past the blackened throne. “Declan, you were expected today, and we are quite aware what is happening in Perth. Emissary, a servant of the Everlasting, if he’s to be believed, attacked the palace not one week ago.”

  “King Faraday,” Drax said, “bore the brunt of his attack.”

  I stared into the yellowed, broken eyes of my brother. Only three months ago he’d been a picture of health and strength. His thick cords of muscle had atrophied damn-near overnight, it seemed. “Yeah, someone needs to explain that one to me.”

  “We expected you,” Drax continued, ignoring my demand, “as Emissary named you during his attack. He said you were to be tested. Given recent events, Atlantis and your role in the death of Morpheus Renegade, it was fair to assume you would seek the aid of the Knights in defeating Emissary.”

  “No,” I said. “That’s not why I’m here. I’m here because Annie,” I put a hand on her slender shoulder, “has done more to fight Emissary than the godforsaken guardians of the Story Thread. The Knights are doing what, exactly? Cowering in this palace while Perth is under attack? I’ve come to settle the account of those dead because you lot, in your wisdom, have pulled the forces protecting True Earth.”

  Drax scowled. “Now listen—”

  “Broken quill,” I cursed, slamming my fists together hard enough to rattle the bones in my hands. “What’s got all your tails tucked firmly between your legs?”

  “Emissary...” Faraday breathed, and his frail voice carried well in the empty chamber. “Everlasting.”

  “Yeah, we’ve established that much. He’s a messenger of Blessed Scion.” Drax and Fenton shared a worried glance. “What? You didn’t know that. Annie, do you have your phone? Can you bring up the latest message Emissary left—thanks.”

  “What’s this?” Delia asked.

  “A snapshot of Emissary’s handiwork, written in the blood of Perth’s unprotected. Listen closely.” I cleared my throat and relayed the bloody poetry. “Blessed Scion on His pale throne. The Younger God sits all alone. Ten thousand years awaiting rebirth. The Everlasting will cleanse the Earth... Ominous, no?”

  “He’s killing indiscriminately,” Annie said, and the most powerful men and women in all the worlds gazed at her. She hunched her shoulders under their stares but held her nerve. “I’m new to all this... this...” She gestured widely with her hands. “But surely there is something you people can do. Bullets don’t hurt him, and Declan—”

  “Declan is, apart from one brief appearance, five years out of the game,” I said, cutting Annie off before she could reveal anything about my brand. The skin around the rune was itching as though it were a demon’s curse. “This is your problem. This is the very definition of your problem and of the Knights’ purview. What kind of shoddy kingdom are you running here, Jon? Christ on a flaming stick!”

  Faraday grinned and folded his hands over in his lap. “Declan, Declan...” he rasped. “One of these days, you’ll realize that your defiance is... is not only wrong but pointless. I am glad you are here, brother. Instructor Marty, please see to a guard of three.”

  Now that was almost too close to sentiment, I thought as Marty bowed low and excused herself from the chamber. “You wanted me here, it seems,” I said softly, taking a seat on the pew behind me. Tia and Annie stepped back, leaving me center stage. “Here I am.”

  “We’ve a task for you, if you are willing,” Delia said, to frowns and scowls from the rest of the council. “Oh come now, none of you were willing to swallow your pride and ask him, were you? Not after you’ve spent five years quashing those still loyal to his banner.”

  “I have a banner…?” I muttered. “What task?”

  “Why, destroy Emissary and his master, of course,” Delia said, and her tone made it sound as though I might stroll to the corner shop for a pint of milk. “That is, if the creature is not simply acting alone. We’ve yet to see any sort of involvement from the Everlasting. Indeed, apart from your reports after Atlantis, Declan, and the sheer power of the Degradation, of course, no one alive—save you—has ever had dealings with the Everlasting.”

  “Are you saying you don’t believe in the Old Gods?” I asked wryly. “Oh, carry on my wayward sons...”

  “Some believe the Degradation could have been your devising, using the Roseblade,” Fenton mused. “That, at least, was confirmed to exist. And is now in the hands of the Renegade queen.”

  “How does the old rhyme go?” I asked. “Lord Oblivion with eyes of blood, the malice of the Void in flood. Well, it doesn’t do the bastard justice by half. I met him. I fought him. He slaughtered Tal Levy and tore my shadow away, exacting a price to end the Tome Wars. You’re welcome for that, by the way.”

  “We’re getting off track here,” Drax said. “Hale, do you accept the task of this council? Eliminate the threat represented by Emissary, whatever he truly is, and we’ll see to it that the punishment of your past crimes will be... revisited.”

  That sparked a glimmer of curiosity in my soul. “Can you dumb this all down a little?”

  Drax sighed—with no small measure of theatricality. “Save the day, Hale, and all will be forgiven. Your titles restored along with your place among the Knights.”

  Faraday grunted what could have been a very non-committal agreement. I licked my lips, tasting the weight of the offer and a salty-sweet glimpse of the staggering, unfathomable opportunity. To return to Ascension... to have free reign across Forget once again under the banner of the Knights Infernal was, perhaps, the most tantalizing offer they could have made me.

  But I wasn’t so much of a fool just to take their word on it.

  “An official royal
pardon,” Drax said, perhaps reading my mind or following the train of thought on my face. “Signed and sealed by this council, and proclaimed across the United Worlds, upon completion of the task set before you.”

  That was about as good an offer as I could expect. A royal writ, signed by the ruling order, would sway the vast majority of Forget that I’d been pardoned of my crimes—of Atlantis and the Degradation. It was no small thing what they were asking of me, but I was going after Emissary anyway.

  I’d need a spot of healing, before anything else. My eye—and the restrictive brand on my arm. Best I tried to find my own solution to that, before revealing I was about as powerful as a gnat against the windshield.

  “I’ll...” I began slowly, playing each and every angle that I could see over in my mind. “I’ll take the day to think about this offer.”

  Drax nodded as if he expected no less. “We reconvene at ninth bell. You are free to roam the public areas of the palace until then. A guard of three Sentinels will be assigned to make sure you don’t... wander or find yourself in deeper waters, Hale.”

  “I’d stay away from the city, Declan,” Delia said, a hint of warning lacing her words. “Word of your return will already be spreading, no doubt. Your presence in the streets could incite a riot, given the current war footing we find ourselves on.”

  I gave them a quick salute. “Sure, I’ll keep to the palace. I want to know more about the mobilization of the Cascade Fleet, however. Is it just Emissary that has you so afraid? What else is going on?”

  Delia opened her mouth, but Drax cut her off. “You’ve been told what you need to know, boy. The broader aspects of our policy are not part of your current purview. That may change, pending your agreement to our deal.”

  “No, I’m just your guided missile, right?” I shoved my hands into my pockets and sighed. “Benched me for five years until you needed something blown on up.” None of them said anything, and I sensed that I’d tried their patience enough for one afternoon. With a quick glance at Tia and Annie, I stood up and clapped my hands together. “Right, ninth bell. See you then.”