Skip: An Epic Science Fiction Fantasy Adventure Series (Book 3)

by Perrin Briar

  “You both sold the world,” Richard said, his grin pointed and sinister. “And all you got were a couple of nobodies.”

  “How did you know?” Jera said. “About us.”

  “Last night one of my constables injured the second member who terrorised the Wythnos ships,” Gregory said. “This morning I noticed she had spots of blood soaking through her dress exactly where the terrorist was shot. It wasn’t hard to put together.”

  Kali looked down to see the small spots of blood that had soaked through her turquoise dress.

  “But more than that,” Gregory said, “it was the look in her eye when I made the play about her beloved being executed. That told me everything.”

  Kali broke from her dazed reverie.

  “A play?” Kali said. “You mean you don’t have him?”

  “No,” Gregory said, his voice edged with resentment.

  “So what are you going to do now?” Jera said. “You’ll have to call the wedding off. You can’t risk us denying our vows.”

  Richard stood with his hands behind his back, his chest extended.

  “What if we told you that Craig need not have to die?” he said. “If we said he would be released the moment we were wed? If I told you Stump would no longer be hunted by us? And your parents would not be touched after the wedding?”

  Kali and Jera shared a look. Both their faces were painted with a myriad of complex emotions, but then their faces cleared and a look of defiance came over them both.

  “We could agree to that,” Jera said.

  Gregory and Richard stepped up close to Jera and Kali. They ran a finger down the side of Jera and Kali’s smooth cheeks.

  “I only wish we could trust you,” Richard said.

  “You can trust us,” Kali said with a small nervous smile.

  “I’m afraid we can’t take that risk.”

  Jera’s heels thudded into the empty crate behind her. Her mind flashed with a moment of dark premonition. The brothers pushed the sisters. They stumbled back and fell into the empty crates. The lids slammed shut.

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  Craig wore a scarf wrapped over his head. With the large number of people from far-flung places and their outlandish appearances, he melted right in with the crowd. He approached the Clock Maker shop. He checked over his shoulder, and then entered. The doorbell rang. He waited for someone to respond to it. No one did.

  He moved to the clocks along the wall. There were more clocks than he had ever seen. There were round clocks, square clocks, heart-shaped clocks, and even clocks that appeared to be made from some kind of jelly-like material that kept changing shape. In the middle of the display were a series of cuckoo clocks. Small ones no bigger than his hand, to large ones taller than himself.

  He began by searching the larger clocks. He forced the cuckoo doors open and reached in with his arm, scrabbling around at the inside. He felt the wooden shape of a bird, and the spring it was attached to, but no paper, no plans. He moved to the next largest clock, in the shape of a log cabin with arched roof, and again came out with nothing. He searched each of the cuckoo clocks, but found no plans. Then he checked them all a second time. He sat back, resting on his heels.

  “Uh-oh.”

  Chapter Sixty-Three

  Monica and Gizelle, wearing pink and turquoise wedding dresses, came in from a side room.

  “We’ve been waiting in there for hours!” Gizelle said, her voice harsh and nasal.

  “I’m sorry, my love,” Gregory said, “but we’ve had a lot to prepare and get ready for you. I wanted this to be a surprise, so your reactions were completely genuine.”

  “They’ll be genuine all right,” Gizelle said. “You haven’t told us anything about what’s about to happen.”

  “I’m going to tell you now. In a few minutes we will walk through this door. We will walk along the red carpet. There are two rules. One, you must not raise your veils – don’t even let the wind take it, and two, you must say nothing except for…”

  He leaned forward, expecting them to say something. The women were silent.

  “The two words I told you to say,” Gregory said.

  “Oh,” Gizelle said. “I do.”

  “Right,” Monica said. “I do.”

  They said it in high class English.

  “Excellent,” Gregory said. “You have been practicing!”

  They smiled at the compliment.

  “You are not to speak or say anything besides, ‘I do’,” Gregory said. “Do you understand?”

  “Yes, m’Lord.”

  “Do you understand?” Gregory said forcefully.

  “I do,” Gizelle said.

  “I do,” Monica said.

  “Good. After saying your two words we will lead you onto the boat. We’ll wave, say goodbye and go spend a wonderful few weeks abroad together. Afterwards you can stay there to begin your new lives, or come back here. It’s up to you.”

  Gizelle raised her hand.

  “Yes?” Gregory said.

  “That all sounds great. But our boss doesn’t know we’re leaving. He’ll go mad when he finds out.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ve already arranged things with him.”

  “Really? He didn’t say anything when we left.”

  “That was part of the deal. Secrecy at all times.”

  A saucy smile spread across Gizelle’s face.

  “You’ve thought about everything out, haven’t you?” she said, taking his arm and squeezing it tight.

  “I do my best,” Gregory said.

  Richard caught Gregory’s eye and nodded to one side.

  “Excuse me for a moment,” Gregory said, detaching himself from Gizelle and crossing to the corner with Richard. They spoke in whispers.

  “What is it?” Gregory said.

  “What’ll we do with them? We’ve put all the family’s money into this. We can’t afford to pay them off.”

  “The sea is a dangerous place, full of wonderful things to see. It’s been known to happen that a woman peers over the edge, leans over a little too far and loses her footing.”

  Richard smiled.

  “Yes,” he said. “An altogether too common occurrence, I’m sure. And suppose, if the Wythnos family wanted to check their bodies…”

  “They are sadly consumed by the creatures in the sea and there is often no trace of them left.”

  “That is unfortunate.”

  “Not to mention the fact these particular unfortunate souls have no family to speak of.”

  “The poor things.”

  Gregory turned to Monica and Gizelle.

  “Now, let’s get this show on the road, shall we?” he said.

  He opened the door leading to the stage.

  “…and without further ado,” the bishop said. “Will the grooms and their brides please step forward.”

  Chapter Sixty-Four

  Elian crept between two warehouses. Little sunlight reached down here, which was a small miracle as there was the strong smell of urine and human faeces. Puca lay in his pocket, sleeping from the exertion he had put himself through to get them there. He’d run faster than any horse Elian had ever ridden. Without a saddle it’d been hard just to hold on. But before he knew it, the clock tower reared up against the horizon, black and unyielding. Everyone had been heading in the same direction and it was easy to find the wedding ceremony-

  There was a sound behind him in the alleyway. Of rubber-soled footsteps attempting silence. Elian moved into the shadows. After a moment, a figure, very quiet on his feet, crept down the alleyway. He did not wear a white uniform. Elian’s shoulder muscles relaxed.

  “Who are you?” Elian said.

  The man near leapt out of his skin.

  “Me?” he said, one hand on his chest. “Who’re you?”

  Elian raised his knife, letting the light blink off its edge.

  “I asked first.”

  “I’m an undercover police Force member.”

  “Show me your b
adge.”

  “No.”

  “Then you’re not a member of the Force. They can’t wait to flash their valuables.”

  The man peered at Elian’s face. He frowned.

  “I’m Craig,” he said. “And you must be Elian Stump.”

  It was Elian’s turn to be surprised.

  “Do I know you?” he said.

  “No, but I’ve seen your face before. You’re on all those wanted posters.”

  Elian sighed.

  “You should have kept quiet,” he said.

  “Why?”

  “Because now I’m going to have to knock you out and hogtie you.”

  Elian moved forward.

  “Wait!” Craig said. “Jera Wythnos. You went on an adventure with her, right? I’m with Kali, Jera’s sister.”

  “She’s about to get married. In what way are you with her?”

  “In the same way you are with Jera, I suppose.”

  “Touché. I heard you were in prison.”

  “Amazing what a man filled with love can accomplish… That, and the magic acid juice she gives you. Jera must have mentioned me?”

  Elian looked at him out the corner of his eye.

  “How do I know you are who you say you are?” he said.

  “Because no one would ever pretend to be me.”

  Elian lowered his knife.

  “What are you doing here?” he said.

  “We’ve got a plan to expose the Ascars and their Gap enterprise. I was supposed to bring plans hidden in a cuckoo clock in the Clock Maker shop, but they weren’t there.”

  “You’re talking about these?” Elian said, flashing a roll of papers.

  “Yes! If they’re from the cuckoo clock, I mean.”

  “What’s the rest of the plan?”

  “The girls will deny their vows and tell everyone what the Ascars are up to. Then I come in with the plans to prove it.”

  “Simple plan.”

  Craig smiled.

  “The best ones always are,” he said.

  “We’d best get moving.”

  They crept down the alleyway and emerged out onto the seafront. Two hundred yards ahead the bishop was on stage. Then Elian heard voices, low and muffled, and the door to the warehouse they were walking beside flew open. Elian backed into the alleyway, dragging Craig with him.

  A dozen men carried heavy-looking crates along the quay and onto a docked ship. Elian and Craig hustled across the seafront to the edge of the stage where the marriage was due to take place. They crouched behind a large water barrel. They waited.

  “…and without further ado,” the bishop said. “Will the grooms and their brides please step forward.”

  The band played a romantic tune, something laden with strings. The warehouse side door opened and Gregory and Richard Ascar emerged with their beautiful veiled brides on their arms. The audience were in thrall. The Ascars waved.

  “They look great,” Elian said.

  “On the arms of other men,” Craig grumbled.

  Neither man could ignore the wrenching sensation in their stomachs.

  Chapter Sixty-Five

  Jera’s crate tipped upwards so she was almost standing, and she felt the incremental descent as she was carried down some stairs. She beat at the inside of her crate and threw her weight against it, but it was strong and sturdy and she couldn’t seem to break it. Then her crate was dropped onto the floor. Her head banged on the side, causing a throbbing pain.

  Something heavy was laid on top of her crate. The roof creaked under the weight. She banged on the walls surrounding her, feeling like they were pressing inwards. The wood creaked and splintered, sounding like it would break at any moment. She stopped banging. Heavy footsteps walked away and disappeared.

  “Let me out of here!” she said. “Please!”

  She took deep angry breaths that fought against her lungs like she’d been running. The space became hot.

  Chapter Sixty-Six

  The choir members took their seats. A hush came over the audience. The bishop stood at a lectern with a thick tome opened at the middle pages.

  “And now,” the bishop said, “we come to the vows. Do you, Gregory Wolfrick Dominion Ascar take this woman to be your lawful wedded wife?”

  “I do.”

  “And do you, Richard Bryant Wilfred Ascar take this woman to be your lawful wedded wife?”

  “I do.”

  “Do you, Jera Hyacinth Tess Wythnos, take this man to be your lawful wedded husband?”

  “I do,” Jera said.

  “What is she doing?” Elian said. “She’s meant to say no!”

  “Maybe she changed her mind,” Craig said, slapping Elian on the back. “Bad luck.”

  “Do you, Kali Wythnos, take this man to be your lawful wedded husband?” the bishop said.

  “I do.”

  Elian and Craig shared a look.

  “Did the Ascars get to them?” Craig said.

  “I don’t know,” Elian said. “Unless… Unless…”

  He looked back along the quay at the warehouse and the docked Wythnos ship.

  “By the power invested in me by our mighty king and ruler,” the bishop said, “I hereby pronounce you…”

  “I object!” Elian shouted.

  The audience murmured like a hive of honey bees and arched their necks to identify the speaker.

  “What are you doing?” Craig hissed at Elian. “This isn’t the plan!”

  “Neither was letting them get married!”

  “Can the speaker please step forward,” the bishop said.

  “You stall them,” Elian said. “I’ll get Jera and Kali.”

  “But-”

  Elian gave Craig the plans and then shoved him out onto the stage. Three thousand pairs of swung and locked onto Craig, who shrunk and hugged the plans. He looked back at Elian with malice, but he was already moving away.

  Chapter Sixty-Seven

  Elian ran along the quay, his footsteps thudding like thunder, and jumped through the open hatch on the ship’s starboard side. The cargo hold was packed floor to ceiling with crates. Elian wrenched the end of a random crate off. Wheat flowed out and onto the floor like an oversized hourglass, the heavenly yellow-brown quickly giving way to purple Gap.

  “Jera?” he said outloud. “Are you in here? Jera?”

  There was no response.

  “Think, Elian, think!” he said to himself. “If I were going to hide them, where would I put them?”

  His head cocked to the side, and his eyes widened. He ran down the steps into another cargo hold, and then down a second set of steps into the belly of the ship. It smelled damp and musty with decaying wood. Elian turned sideways to edge his way between the crates.

  “Jera!” he shouted. “Jera! Are you in here?”

  He listened but heard nothing.

  And then he did hear something. Scratching, and a light thumping. He followed it toward the back of the room. It was dark and shady, the glow from the overhead lamps the only light source. The thuds grew louder. Elian tapped on the end of a crate. A knock answered, but not from the crate he’d tapped on. He tapped on a lower crate. The knock answered. This time he felt the reverberations on the other side.

  He gripped the end and pulled and tore at it like a man possessed. He tore off a corner. No grain or Gap streamed out. Delicate fingers poked out. Elian gripped the end and tore it off in one movement. He reached in and pulled the body out. She lay on the floor on her back, panting for air. She looked up at him. Her short black hair was plastered to her face with sweat. Her dress was torn and ruffled, but she still looked beautiful.

  She wore a turquoise dress. It was Kali.

  Chapter Sixty-Eight

  “And who are you?” the bishop said.

  “I am, uh, Craig Glover, the baker.”

  “A baker?” the bishop said, raising his nose and adjusting his spectacles.

  “He is no baker,” Gregory said. “He is an escaped prisoner. I arrested him my
self only last night, for attempting to destroy our tribute ships.”

  “And for good reason!” Craig said, finding his voice.

  He raised the plans in his hand.

  “I have here the secret plans for the Ascars’ growth and distribution of the compound Gap!” he said. “I’ll show it to you all. It is written in Arthur Ascar’s own hand.”

  Arthur Ascar banged his fleshy palm on the arm of his throne.

  “This is preposterous!” he said.

  “What the Ascar family may or may not be engaged in is of no interest to these proceedings,” the bishop said. “Now, do you have just cause for interrupting this ceremony or not?”

  Craig looked out at the crowd, mouth turning dry.

  “Yes, sir,” Craig said. “I do. For you see, I am in love with Kali Wythnos.”

  The audience gasped.

  “And furthermore, she is in love with me!” Craig said.

  The audience gasped even louder. Craig turned to Kali, her face obscured by her veil.

  “Tell them,” Craig said. “Tell them the truth.”

  “Is this true?” the bishop said to the figure in her turquoise dress. “Do you love this man?”

  Kali looked from Craig to Gregory, and back again.

  “I do?” she said.

  The audience gasped, the questioning inflection lost to their disbelieving, but ecstatic, ears. Murmurs broke out like a rush of water.

  Chapter Sixty-Nine

  “Knock on the crates,” Elian said to Kali once she had recovered. “She has to be here somewhere.”

  “They brought me in first,” Kali said. “I heard them put Jera’s crate down in this direction.”

  She led him toward the other side of the cargo hold. Elian began knocking on the crates but heard no reply. Puca leaned forward on Elian’s shoulder so far he almost dropped off. He froze. His ears pricked up. He chittered, and then leaped onto the floor and ran between the crates.