Metal and Magic: A Fantasy Journey

by Steve Windsor

  My bravado was short-lived when we arrived in the Capitol City the following week. Amyr and I left the carter at the river’s edge and walked the remaining distance to the palace. Snow had fallen the night before leaving the air so frigid it chilled my bones despite the heavy cloak and fur boots upon my feet.

  Amyr was unfazed by either the cold, or the crowds of people in the streets.

  “A coin to spare?” a boy asked me, holding out his hand as we walked by. I had none, but Amyr had a purse-full, although he didn’t share.

  “Sorry,” I told the boy and every other one who asked the same, while thinking not long ago, I was just like him.

  “Get over it, Dov,” Amyr snapped, replying to my silent thoughts, as we entered a crowd of people gathered around the palace gates. They were whispering amongst themselves, pointing and shoving each other closer so all might see.

  “What is it?” I whispered to Amyr. “What is there?”

  I failed to hear Amyr’s response as a large woman shoved me away in her effort to join the front of the crowd. After that, I couldn’t see over or around anyone to find my lost friend. A few times, I called his name, but my voice was trampled by the shouting and the jeers. Still, we moved forward as a pack, bodies crammed together side by side.

  As we neared the palace gates, the shouting changed to Ooohs and Aaahs.

  “What is it?” I asked my neighbor.

  “Look up, boy.”

  I followed the woman’s finger as she pointed at the pikes above the fence. There hung four men, dangling by their necks.

  “Serves them right, dirty Karuts,” the woman hissed, her sentiments echoed by the crowd, while I did my best not faint, or to spew upon her shoes.

  There hung Turak, Borak, Pori and Bear, recognizable by the thick black hair, which covered his head and naked body like a coat.

  “They say these are the ones that burned Farku,” a man murmured. “The firesetters who turned that city into ash.”

  “Let them burn!” another cried, while I slipped behind him, pushing all aside, reaching for a place where no one else would be standing.

  When I was freed of the crowd, I ran. Heading back to the river, I followed it through the old city and into the woods. Amyr was lost to me in the crowd. I would never find him and neither was I certain that I wished to.

  He had brought me here. He had taken me from Lorinda and the village. He had brought upon all these boys a horrific, ghastly death.

  That night, as I hid inside a fallen log, sheltering from the endless gales of ice and snow, I realized I was not the firesetter after all. I could not summon flames to my fingers. Only Amyr could do that. Whatever I had done, whatever I would do, would be at his behest. It had always been this way, and it would always be. If I was to become the king, it would only be if Amyr had decided I should sit his throne.

  With nowhere else to go and the motherland too far away and across the sea, I followed the winds, which blew north in the direction of Kildoo.

  Weeks later, I arrived at my grandfather’s door, collapsing into his serving woman’s arms.

  “’Tis like seeing a ghost, I am. Ye are the spittin’ image of the late Duke’s son and ye arrived just in time to see yer granddad’s body laid to rest.”

  “Then, I am the Duke now,” I declared and so, I was, and would remain, until Amyr disappeared, leaving me alone to challenge Marko Korelesk.

  Chapter 24: Ailana

  On the eve of the winter solstice when the snows had piled in drifts as high as tall man’s head, and the wind howled against the windows demanding entry, I thrashed about in my bed, a victim of horrific dreams. Outside and below me, hanging from the palace gates were the bodies of four men, boys from the motherland, kinsmen to me, sharing my blood and the blood of my two sons.

  Inside, their spirits haunted my room. Ghostly shadows flew in circles above my head.

  “Ailana,” they called out my name. “You have forgotten who you are.”

  “I am the mother of the next king,” I declared. “Go away. Leave me be.”

  “You forsake your kinsmen for your own benefit. You shall reap the seeds of your betrayal.”

  “Ailana,” Grandmother whispered. “You disappointment me.”

  “No,” I begged. “Please leave me alone!”

  “Mistress?” the maid said, shaking my arm.

  Instantly, the ghosts departed and it was only the wind whistling through the room, which called my name.

  “What is it?” I demanded, coming to my senses.

  The maid leaned close to my ear, her sour breath, invading my nostrils with the scent of failing teeth.

  “The Karut Prince has been captured. The guards found him outside watching his kinsman swing.”

  “Are you certain it is he?” I gasped, already knowing the answer before she spoke.

  “I saw him, Mistress. He was dragged through the courtyards, through the snow. The King intends to hang him from the flagpole next to the icicle fountain.”

  “In this weather?” I gasped, as my mind refused to grasp what was soon to be.

  “Come see for yourself, Mistress. The King summons you to watch the poor lad’s body swing.”

  “I won’t,” I cried, refusing to leave my bed, though curiosity demanded my own eyes confirm what I knew to be true.

  “’Tis an order, Mistress. His Majesty says if you refuse, he’ll send the guard to string you up beside him. You are kinsmen in blood, if not more than that.”

  I had no choice. Laboriously, I climbed from the bed, my heavy body unyielding, refusing to bend, even to slip the boots upon my feet.

  “I’ll help you, Mistress,” the maid insisted. “T’won’t be long now ‘afore yer prince arrives.”

  She wrapped my warmest cloak about my shoulders and placed my boots. Then, with her arm as a cane to guide my way, we left the safety of my suite for the palace corridors. Snow and ice lined our path, for the walkways were without glass and exposed to the elements.

  “Mistress,” the King declared when I arrived at his side on the landing above the snow-laden courtyard.

  There directly below me was a boy whose face was as familiar to me as my own. Though he was older by many years, I saw only the child I had held to my breast.

  “He favors Mikal, doesn’t he?” Marko sneered. “And, the Great Emperor before him. Those Karut genes are strong. But, I see nothing of you in him. Perhaps, his bitch was another of Mikal’s whores?”

  “Amyr,” I wept, as the noose was placed around my son’s neck.

  “Look at him, Karut,” Marko ordered, putting his hand around my own neck. “Watch him die. That is your punishment for today. A bastard whelp of Mikal and an adopted son of Rekah shall not claim the Imperial Throne which belongs to me.”

  I lifted my eyes and with them, I tried to tell my son to be strong.

  “Fight, Amyr,” I whispered just as thunder roared above our heads and a bolt of lightning seared across the sky. It struck the icicle fountain, and with a tremendous crack, split the glass masterpiece into a million jagged shards.

  Like thunder, the sound of the glass bursting echoed across the facades of all the buildings, just as the wind rushed into the courtyard, howling and moaning as the ghosts had in my dreams. The gales seized upon the shards, whirling them upward in a lethal tornado before raining them upon all who stood in the courtyard below.

  It was then amongst the screams and chaos of this deadly storm that the flames of fire arose from the buildings of the palace.

  “This can’t be!” Marko raged. “This palace can’t burn. It is crafted entirely from marble and stone.”

  But, he was wrong for even the hardest granite could melt if consumed by a fire as hot as that which burned in Hell.

  Marko left me, racing across the hallways to the stairs, saving himself for he cared not for any other.

  “Come, Mistress,” the maid cried, urgently pulling at my arm, leading me through the clouds of smoke and fields of glass to the ocean
’s shore.

  By the time, we were far enough away so the heat did not burn the hair from our heads or skin from our faces, my belly lurched and cramped. Water ran down my legs, followed by a tremendous pain. Now, I could move no more. I collapsed in the snow, my blood ushering in the arrival of my second son.

  As I clutched him to my breast and fed him his first meal, only briefly did I mourn the death of his brother, Amyr. Surely, he had not survived the carnage in the courtyard, especially with his hands bound and a noose around his neck.

  But, I had. I had lived to give birth to another boy, a new prince with no taint or question upon his claim, for here was my new son, Marek Korelesk, prince and heir to the Imperial Throne.

  Chapter 25: Lance

  We had just delivered a load of coconuts to Spacebase 44-C, when Taul and I were sitting in the cockpit playing cards. The ship was running well and the endless stars were pretty dull, so I was dealing out a hand of Gin Rummy while Taul was keeping score.

  Taul had been part of crew for more than a year and I considered him a decent space sailor even though he had only trained on freighters like the Flying Mule. Because he lacked SpaceForce experience, initially, I wouldn’t let him have a gun, until I caught him shooting targets with Sandy at a spacebase sim center.

  That made me realize he was a pretty good shot, maybe even better than me, and certainly better than Wen or Noodnick, who couldn’t hit the side of building from five feet away. Sandy was a good marksman, too, a skill she must have inherited from her mother. Jill had been known to shoot just as accurately with both hands, which wasn’t the only thing her hands had been famous for.

  At any rate, Taul and I were slapping down cards and chewing the fat, when I must have realized that in our course to Altaris II, we were passing the star system that was once home to the old Empire. I pointed that out in between dealing a new hand and fetching sodas from the fridge.

  “I know,” Taul replied. “That’s where I am from.”

  “Really?” I hadn’t known that. Frankly, I hadn’t known anything about Taul, other than, like I said, he worked on freighters like the Mule. “Sandy has an old Imperial coin of mine. I was once told it might be worth a whole lot of money.”

  “I can take a look at it,” Taul offered, tipping back his soda. “I had some coins too when I came to the Alliance. Until I got my first job, this was how I managed to eat.”

  “So, how did you come here?” I asked, noting a ship off our starboard bow. It was moving slowly, too slowly to be SpaceForce, or an industrial freighter.

  Taul shrugged and slapped down a perfect Gin.

  “There are still old ships and old skippers around for hire. I had a guy take me to the nearest spacebase. Anything can be bought for the price of a few gold coins. Your bid, Captain.”

  “Pass,” I said and turned to track that ship.

  Either unintentionally, or by design, it seemed to be traveling on a perpendicular vector with us. Eventually, it sped up, so it was on a path for a direct collision unless we turned. In space, a hundred miles away was considered breathing down your neck. This guy was practically within spitting distance of my bow, which made me really nervous when we crossed paths. I had to brake so suddenly, it caused all our cargo to go flying, slamming into the walls of the hold.

  “Who is driving this thing?” We heard Wen shout from the aft cabin.

  “Asshole!” I screamed, pounding the console with my fist.

  “Who? Wen?” Taul asked, reaching for the cards, soda bottles and chips which I inadvertently sent tumbling to the floor.

  “Where in the hell does he think he’s going? With all this space around, why the fuck did he cut me off? I’m going to follow him.”

  “Who, Daddy?” Sandy asked, opening the cockpit door.

  She was dressed in pajamas and her hair was piled on top of her head. Fortunately, it was no longer black, but the brilliant auburn of her birth. Her big green eyes were half closed and she was scratching at a zit that had erupted on her chin. Other than that, I still considered her the most beautiful creature I had ever seen.

  “That guy.” Taul pointed at the ship, which we could now see was a tiny passenger vessel, maybe even some rich guy’s private plane. Except it was old, really old.

  “That’s an ancient Imperial spaceplane,” Sandy yawned, “Hard to believe that any of those are still flying.”

  “There’s a few still,” Taul said. “Although, I don’t think his range is very far. He’ll probably have to stop at Spacebase 43 to regenerate his fuel. That may be why he’s in such a hurry. It could be his engine is about to die.”

  “Alright,” I announced, setting the Flying Mule on a new course. “We’ll follow him there, just in case his plane conks out. It’s the law of the stars, you know. We’re going to save a fellow traveler in distress and if he makes it without a problem, when we get to the spacebase, I’m going to punch him in the nose.”

  I didn’t know if I would really punch him in the nose, but at the time, it sounded good. Frankly, if he turned out to be an eight-foot tall Cascadian with three rows of shark-like teeth, I’d probably turn and run.

  In the meantime, I didn’t mind making an extra pitstop, as the Flying Mule was showing an anomaly on her gear oil gauges. One of them was reading hot, while the other was reading cold. The transmission pressure was also a little off which may or may not have been related.

  Without alarming anyone, especially Wen, who always assumed we were about to die, I figured we’d get the Mule checked out and have a nice dinner at the best little steakhouse restaurant in space.

  Several hours later, we pulled into the docking bay to do exactly that.

  The ancient Imperial spaceplane was in the slip beside us and two men were standing right outside, one of them smoking a cigarette.

  As I debarked the Mule and went to check the thru-hulls, I heard Taul shout. He bolted down the ladder after me and ran to the guy with the smoke. The two of them hugged, sort of, and clapped each other on the back.

  “Maybe, his friend,” Wen suggested, gazing up at the dripping hydraulic fluid which was leaking from the ship.

  “Well, since he’s obviously not an eight-foot Cascadian, I guess I have to hold to my word and punch him in the nose. Cutting us off back there probably cracked our whole load of coconuts.”

  Leaving Wen to deal with the mechanical issues, I headed across the bay to Taul and his buddy, who was standing with an old man.

  I didn’t punch anyone. I wouldn’t hit an old guy for his reckless driving. Furthermore, Taul was very excited to introduce me to his cousin, who coincidentally, was looking for a job.

  “Do you think he could join our crew, Captain Lancelot?” Taul practically begged me to take his cousin on, even though he had no recent experience in working in space, or anywhere else, for that matter. “I will vouch for him. I guarantee he will be useful to our crew.”

  I wasn’t so sure about that. The guy looked sleepy, or maybe, he looked stoned. His eyes were only half open, just thin little slits, which seemed to sparkle with color. He also looked young, probably too young to get a space license. There was also something familiar about him. I could have sworn I had seen his face before.

  “We could use another crewman,” Wen added, now sniffing at the hydraulic fluid on his fingers.

  “I will train him,” Taul assured me.

  It was then that I realized where I had seen him. He was the guy whose face was on my old Imperial coin.

  Unfortunately, I had no time to consider this and what it meant, as Noodnick appeared on the boarding steps jumping up and down. He made a noise. A screech, similar to a primal wail, until his mouth stretched and twisted trying to say a single word.

  “What Nood?” Wen asked. “What’s the matter? Tell us slowly.”

  “Sandy!” Noodnick pronounced, the first words ever to be uttered from his mouth. “Sandy has a run away.”

  About J. Naomi Ay

  Naomi lives in the Olympic Pen
insula and is mom to 3 and a Pomeranian. She has always been a fan of historical fiction, fantasy and science fiction and is known for having waited in line for seven hours for the opening of both the original Star Wars and Star Trek films.

  To purchase "Amyr's Command," the next book in the Firesetter series, click here.

  To subscribe to J. Naomi Ay's email list, click here.

  The Natural Order by R.J. Vickers

  Book One in "The Natural Order" series.

  After killing the only person he truly cared about in a car crash, Tristan Fairholm has nearly given up when a stranger offers him a place at her school.

  Along with fifteen other juvenile delinquents, he learns to harvest magic in the Canadian wilderness. He finds unexpected friendship among his fellow students, from lovable Rusty Lennox to shy, mysterious Amber Ashton, but when a vandal threatens the school, he discovers that their magic is being put to a dangerous use. As he races to uncover the culprit, Tristan must decide whether his freedom and his new friends are more important than his morals.

  To purchase "Rogue Magic," the next book in the series, click here.

  To subscribe to R. J. Vicker's email list, click here.

  Chapter 1: Professor Merridy

  Tristan Fairholm stood before his brother’s grave, the shadow of the disciplinary officer stretched across the moss by his feet. He had been in juvie for three months, and his parents hadn’t been to see him in all that time. They hadn’t even let him attend Marcus’s funeral. Of course not—they thought Tristan had crashed the car on purpose. They thought he had murdered his brother.

  Tristan fingered the broken watch in his pocket. Marcus had given it to him just days before his death, a beautiful gold wristband with a few gears that had rusted through. Tristan loved to fix things—bikes, old clocks, splintered furniture—anything he could get his hands on. It made up for everything he couldn’t fix. His parents’ divorce. Marcus’s weak heart. And now the ragged, rusting hole his brother had left behind.