by Jon Monson
“What do we do now, Princess?” Seb asked gruffly. “We don’t have a plan to get to the palace to save your father. Even worse, we don’t know what we’re going to find when we get there.”
“I didn’t think we needed one,” Byanca responded, ignoring Seb’s use of her non-title. “This is, after all, my home. It didn’t occur to me that the Order’s plan could be this successful.”
“Yeah, that’s poor planning on our part,” Seb replied. “I don’t think any of us thought their plan would succeed so thoroughly.”
“They haven’t succeeded yet,” Byanca said. “And I’m going to make sure they don’t. Those devils believe they need to bring the world into utter chaos in order to bring about the Return or whatever it is. I say we stop them.”
“That’s easier said than done,” Seb grunted as Byanca shot him a look that could pierce armor. “I mean, I think we need a good strategy. Charging blindly into a city full of armed mobs doesn’t count.”
Seb stopped, pulling hard on his steed’s reigns and signaling for the others to do so. The look on his face didn’t allow for argument. Aydiin looked around, hoping to see what Seb could see. The man’s eyes were sharp.
Then Aydiin heard it - the soft, distant roar of an engine. Whatever vehicle it powered was obviously being pushed to its limits, the high whine echoing in the quiet streets. And it was growing louder.
At the end of the street, a newly crafted limousine bounded around a corner at such speed that it nearly tipped onto its side before careening straight toward the group. Aydiin yelped as Askari leapt into a nearby alleyway. The horses also acted instinctively, clearing the path for the speeding automobile.
“Stones,” Byanca muttered. “That can’t be good.”
“What do you mean?” Seb asked.
“That’s the limousine of Duke Farnese, one of the most powerful members of the Senate. If he’s leaving the city, things must be bad.”
As the roar of the engine faded away, a new roar quickly rose to take its place. Coming from the same street as the limousine, a large crowd of roughly dressed men armed with old, front loading rifles, pitch forks, and shovels appeared. Even from a distance, Aydiin could tell there was desperation in those men, the kind of desperation that would cause people to act irrationally.
“We need to move - now!” Aydiin yelled as he nudged Askari in the ribs.
The kerton responded with alacrity, his powerful legs taking them down a small side street filled with row homes in reasonable condition. Laundry hung overhead, forgotten by its owners. Trash cans stood undisturbed, holding their refuse that may or may not ever be collected.
The others followed, the sound of the horses’ hooves pounding on the hard asphalt contrasting with Askari’s padded gait. Aydiin turned Askari down a narrow pathway, suddenly very conscious of the fact that he hadn’t the slightest idea of where they were going.
As long as it’s away from that mob, he thought as he lowered himself in Askari’s saddle, urging the kerton onward. Turning sharply around another corner, Aydiin stopped to wait for the others.
“I think we lost them,” Byanca panted, her cheeks flushed and hair falling out of its bun. “We can’t be that attractive of targets. That limousine is worth a lot more than we are.”
“I don’t know,” Joon said. “These horses we’re riding would make quite a delicious stew. It’s hard to eat an automobile – except for maybe the leather seats.”
“It’s only been a few days,” Byanca said. “They can’t have grown so desperate already.”
“It’s strange, I know,” Joon said. “But you’ve never faced true hunger. When there’s no food to be had, then almost anything becomes edible.”
Aydiin had the suspicion that Joon was speaking from experience. He wasn’t sure if he’d faced those hard times in his home country or if he’d been forced to find non-traditional food sources in the sewers of Palmas. Either way, he felt sorry for the man.
Shots rang out, and a bullet whizzed disturbingly close to Aydiin’s head. He looked down the road to see a group of dirty men in soot stained clothing. Each held an old rifle, which they were hurriedly reloading.
“Stones, let’s get out of here,” Aydiin said, nudging Askari in the ribs yet again.
The kerton loped through the city streets, almost seeming to enjoy the adventure. Aydiin wished he could say the same – he was tired of people trying to kill him. At least these people seemed to be doing so out of desperation and not out of a desire to see the Undergods return.
“It’s a good thing those aren’t trained soldiers. Otherwise, I don’t think we would be alive right now,” Seb grunted as they stopped several blocks and turns later. “So what’s the plan?”
“Well, I think we can outrun these mobs fairly easily,” Byanca said. “They seem rather unorganized, not to mention slow.”
“Some of them are bound to have cars,” Aydiin said. “Who knows what’s happened in the power vacuum. There could be a warlord near the palace who took command of the city’s taxi cabs.”
“Hold on one second,” Byanca said, her face deep in concentration. “Joon, could you guide us through the city’s sewers? Could you get us to the Palace?”
“I’ve never taken the tunnels to that part of the city,” Joon responded. “It’s possible, though. We probably wouldn’t get lost and wander until we die a slow death.”
“Well that’s reassuring,” Aydiin said. “Byanca, you can’t possibly be serious, can you?”
“I don’t know how else we could get there through this mess,” Byanca responded. “If you have a better suggestion, I’m all ears.”
Aydiin didn’t. He felt reasonably sure that Seb wouldn’t either. Palmas was in a much worse state than they ever could have imagined.
“I think we’re forgetting something important,” Seb said, and everyone turned to look at him. “We came here to warn Byanca’s father and save the Republic. It looks like we’ve already failed.”
“If I know my father, he’s holed up with an entire regiment in the Palace,” Byanca said. “If we can just get there, I’m sure we’ll be safe. Once he knows what’s happening, we’ll be better able to fight back. This fight is far from over.”
“If you say so,” Seb said, seeming to back off from a fight he had no interest in winning.
“I have to say I agree with Seb,” Aydiin began before realizing his words were a mistake. Then he decided to say them anyway. “If I get killed, whether it be from the Order or a random citizen, then the world is doomed.”
“Fine, then I’ll go myself,” Byanca said. She pulled on her horse’s reigns, directing the creature away from the group.
“Byanca, wait. I -,” Aydiin’s words cut off as a new sound began to echo through the streets.
It was like a swarm of angry bees. He didn’t know how else to describe it, other than it sounded terrible. That, and there seemed to be several of whatever it was.
Around a corner rounded the strangest thing Aydiin had ever seen. It was like a bicycle, only it seemed to be moving on its own. Not only was it moving, it was moving quickly.
A man with a black leather jacket, helmet, and goggles rode the machine. As he saw them, Aydiin could hear the pitch of the bike’s engine grow higher, its speed growing. With one hand securing the handle bars, the rider reached into a holster and pulled out a revolver.
Shots rang out, the sound of bullets ricocheting off a nearby brick building ringing in Aydiin’s ears. The man took another shot. Then another.
The man tossed his revolver to the ground as it ran out of bullets before grabbing another. He was growing closer, and the possibility of him hitting grew larger. That bike was moving much too quickly – they would not be able to outrun it on horseback.
Aydiin pulled a water whip out of the air, commanding the individual molecules to coalesce. This man was no desperate citizen. There would be no running from this.
At Aydiin’s command, the water whipped towards the leather-clad
attacker. Making the water dull instead of razor sharp, the whip crashed into the man, knocking him from the careening two-wheeled automobile.
The man fell to the cobblestone with a crunch, rolling head over heels until he finally stopped. The bike lost control, slamming into the wall of a nearby tenement, its frame crunching as it hit with enormous speed. Aydiin looked on, shocked to see what he was capable of doing.
“I think we’re in trouble,” Joon said as the sound of more similar engines grew closer.
“He’s right,” Seb grunted. “We’ll never outrun those on horseback.”
“I think Askari could outrun them,” Aydiin said. “It’s too bad we can’t all climb onto his back.”
“Of course,” Seb slapped his forehead. “That kerton – it sticks out like sore thumb in this city. That blasted lunatic recognized us because of Askari.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Aydiin said, gripping the reigns a bit tighter. “Askari can’t be that easy to spot.”
“You two will never get to the palace as long as you’ve got that target on your back,” Seb said. “Joon and I will hop onto Askari and take an indirect route to the palace.”
“And we’ll get there first on horseback,” Byanca finished his thought. “Seb, you’re a genius. Two people on horses will look like nothing but a couple of refugees. True, we’ll still have to deal with the occasional group of rioters, but we’ll be practically invisible to members of the Order looking for that kerton.”
Aydiin did not like where this was going. He’d crossed Genodra without Askari, and he was not about to part with him again. There had to be another way.
Then the sound of the engines grew louder. Engines. More than one of those infernal machines.
“Hurry, my Prince,” Seb said, descending from his horse.
“Wait, you have to know how to handle him,” Aydiin said, looking for his last excuse to not go along with the plan.
“Aydiin, I’ve been all around the world – I know a thing or two about the kerton,” Seb said, stepping forward towards Askari.
He grabbed the kerton’s reigns, bringing his face close. Seb stared into Askari’s eyes, his gaze saying so much more than any amount of words ever could. After a moment, Askari bowed low.
That’s more respect than he shows even to me, Aydiin thought. Then he realized how little he knew about Sebastian. Yet he was about to entrust his greatest friend to the man.
Seb placed a foot into the kerton’s saddle and hopped in. Joon deftly hopped directly from his pony onto Askari’s back, securing his arms around Seb’s waist. Askari growled softly in protest, but Seb gave a strong pat on the kerton’s head.
Aydiin hopped into the saddle of Seb’s horse. After only a week back in the saddle with Askari, everything about the horse felt strange. The smell, the flatness of its back, everything was different.
“We’ll see you at the palace,” Aydiin said. “Bring that kerton back to me, safe and sound, alright?”
“You have my word,” Seb replied with a nod. Something in those eyes told Aydiin that the grizzled veteran intended to do so, no matter the cost.
The engines grew louder, and two more turned around a corner a few hundred spans behind them.
“Move,” Seb bellowed, kicking Askari in the ribs, directing the kerton down an alley to the right.
Byanca nudged her horse, pulling its reigns to go left. Aydiin sighed, following his wife towards the palace. Byanca’s horse picked up speed, and Aydiin’s matched hers. It was no kerton, but it was by far more spirited than the bag of fleas he’d ridden to Mount Pietra.
The sound of the bikes grew closer, and just as Seb predicted, they followed Seb and Askari. The kerton really was a giant target on Aydiin’s back. Now that target belonged to Seb – Aydiin hoped it wouldn’t be the man’s end.
“We’ll approach from the front,” Byanca said as they rode. “There are bound to be plenty of guards at the front gates. They’ll be on high alert with everything that’s happening, and we don’t want to risk getting shot sneaking in through the back.”
“And what if there are no guards?” Aydiin asked, wanting to be prepared for the possibility that the palace had been ransacked just like everywhere else.
“There will be,” Byanca said. “My father wouldn’t just abandon the city.”
“That wouldn’t be the worst plan,” Aydiin said. “Retreating to a more defensible position isn’t dishonorable. With an approaching army and a populace destroying the city from within, your father would be insane to make his last stand in the palace of all places.”
“Well, we’ll never know until we get there,” Byanca said.
Aydiin winced. He had only offered up criticisms of her plan while coming up with no solutions. He wasn’t sure what it meant to be a good husband, but he felt confident he was failing.
“I’m sorry, Byanca,” he finally said. “I’m just on edge - I know you are too.”
“No, I’m sorry,” Byanca responded. “I realize this is crazy and stupid. My father really could have escaped to his northern estates. Still, I couldn’t live with myself if he were just at the palace and I abandoned him.”
“It really does seem to help that we’re just on horseback,” Aydiin said. “I hope that Seb and Joon will be okay.”
“Sebastian seems to be a one man army,” Byanca smiled. “If anyone can outrun those infernal machines, it will be him.”
“And if he can’t, he’ll probably just stare them into submission,” Aydiin laughed.
This part of the city seemed eerily calm. The sound of the bikes’ motors had faded into the distance, and only the clatter of the horses’ hooves on the cobblestone broke the silence. It would be peaceful if these very streets hadn’t been teeming with life only a few days ago.
They reached a larger avenue, paved with asphalt for automobiles. The sudden openness made Aydiin claustrophobic compared to the tight alleys. He was too open, too exposed.
Byanca apparently felt the same. She settled low into her saddle, urging her horse into a sprint. Aydiin yelped and did the same to keep pace with her.
She rode beautifully. Her brown trousers and cream blouse seemed to suit her as much as any dress she had ever worn. They were made for riding as much as she was.
The couple rode through the streets, growing ever closer to the palace. Aydiin knew he should be watching for assassins and marauders. Yet he had eyes only for the beautiful woman ahead of him who handled her horse with such skill.
Then she stopped, pulling hard on her horse’s reigns as the animal skidded to a halt. He shook himself from his daze and did the same, his steed struggling to stop as quickly as he wanted it to. As he stopped, he could see what had made her react so strongly.
They sat atop the crest of a hill, looking down on the neighborhood surrounding the Palace. Byanca stared stone faced, obviously trying to not believe what her eyes were showing her. Aydiin couldn’t blame her.
The entire neighborhood was blackened and charred. The remains of once beautiful buildings stood, seemingly ready to collapse at the slightest breeze. Such destruction was difficult to survey.
Only the palace grounds seemed unaffected. The gardens, barely visible, still seemed moderately lush and green. The palace itself seemed unaffected by the destruction that engulfed the surrounding neighborhood. It was like an island the midst of a stormy sea – or possibly the eye of the storm itself.
“I don’t see any guards,” Byanca finally said.
“I don’t see anyone at all,” Aydiin responded.
“What do we do now?” Byanca asked, her posture stooping as if she were literally deflating.
“Well, we did tell Seb to meet us here,” Aydiin said. “We should at least go down and try to figure out what’s happened.”
Without another word, Aydiin kicked the horse and descended the hill towards the palace. Behind him, he could hear the sound of Byanca following. He hoped this wasn’t a mistake.
They ap
proached the gate to see two guards lying dead at their post. Blood – long dried and swarming with flies – covered their faces and uniforms. The flies dissipated as they approached in an angry swarm before converging again on the bodies as Aydiin and Byanca passed.
“I don’t know what we’re going to find,” Byanca said, descending from her horse in upon reaching the courtyard. “I have to admit that I’m scared.”
“That’s only logical,” Aydiin said, hopping from the saddle and grabbing Byanca’s hand as they walked up the stairs. “We’re in a terrifying situation with an uncertain outcome. I’d be more worried if you weren’t afraid.”
As the couple made their way into the entrance hall, Aydiin was struck with how different the palace felt. While before it had been warm and inviting, its grandness failing to cover up with life within, the entire palace now felt only cold. The chill had little to do with the actual temperature.
The entrance hall was absolutely silent, only a slight breeze disturbing the air. The distant bustle of servants was absent. It was devoid of life.
Stranger still, the home looked to be relatively undisturbed. A priceless painting depicting the republican army’s victory still stood on the wall, its frame only slightly askew. The various pieces of furniture remained, some toppled, but none were smashed. It didn’t feel as if the entire city surrounding the palace had been thrown into complete chaos.
Their footsteps echoed in the empty hallways as they journeyed from room to room. There was no sign of life – or much sign of death – to be seen in the entire structure. The absence of both left Aydiin feeling unnerved.
“If there had been a battle, why isn’t there more carnage?” Aydiin asked. The two guards out front were the only apparent casualties. Their gruesome corpses had prepared Aydiin for much worse.
“I can’t quite say,” Byanca said as they climbed a winding staircase near the rear of the palace. “I can only hope my father’s study holds some answers.”
They reached the top of the staircase and into a small hallway. There were only a few rooms. It made sense to Aydiin why Marcino would put his study in such a little trafficked portion of the home.
