Lost Kingdom: Book 1 in the Lost Kingdom Series

by Maggert, Terry

  “There’s the Pitch, and I’ll be happy to explain life on the plain once we’re, ah, elevated slightly,” Crowe said.

  “Ah.” Nolan looked ahead, face lighting in recognition. The Pitch was a tree trunk, cut off and covered with a kind of shelter. A flexible ladder made of salvaged ship decking hung down, swaying in the dying breeze. “Elevated. Good enough for me. Let’s get up in our treehouse and then you can tell me about the plains. And Sunward, too.”

  “Just in time,” Crowe said as the sun began banging flat on the line of distant hills. They walked briskly to the Pitch, brought their things up, and left the makeshift sled leaning against the enormous bole of the dead tree they would be sleeping on. The tree had been massive, nearly five meters across and shot through with so many knots the stump looked like stone. The shelter was a wooden tent on a metal frame, the sides open and a small rock oven in the middle. It was bigger than any ship cabin Nolan had slept in, and there were cots for sleeping. As roughing it went, the Pitch was a cut above.

  They started a fire as Nolan began taking stock of his salvage, and then the air split in a hideous roar that shook the platform with an unholy vibration.

  “In the name of—what the fuck was that?” Nolan whispered, even though the source of the noise had to be kilometers away.

  An answering call that was somehow louder shook the air from behind them. Nolan stood mute as the sound washed past, leaving a buzz in the air like the aftermath of an orbital strike.

  Crowe grinned. “Ahh, the sweet song of love in bloom. Never gets old, no matter what planet I’m on.”

  “That’s a mating call? From what?” Nolan asked, a bit more calmly but still in awe of the unseen creatures. His mind whirled with the possibility of being eaten before the conclusion of one day down the well, but Crowe didn’t seem worried.

  “Flatbacks. There aren’t many of them, and they only do this every few years, I’m told. You don’t have to worry about them unless you’re a clump of moss. Plant eaters, but big ones. Their paths are useful as roads, but they’re only in the low places. Not really made for climbing,” Crowe said.

  “What do they look like?”

  “Take a look for yourself. She’s over there.” Crowe pointed lazily with a piece of dried meat he was unwrapping.

  Nolan glanced in that direction, and Cherry focused his eye without being asked, augmenting the low light automatically. A kilometer away, the flatback shuffled along the ground, stripping a path clean of the dense moss. The scale was difficult to grasp, especially for Nolan, who’d grown up on a world where the largest animals were rats running loose in the service tunnels. The flatback was massive, low to the ground, and had no less than eight legs—maybe more—moving like columns of brown stone underneath the wide body. Bone armor covered the top in bands, and the long, mobile head swung side to side as it cleared the moss to bare ground. The eye was large, recessed, and topped by a nubby ridge of bone. When it exhaled, two nostrils opened, with a third on top of the head blowing a plume of steamy breath in the cooling night air.

  “I’m guessing they don’t have a lot of predators?” he asked Crowe.

  “Not any who lived. That armor is thick enough to take a missile shot, and their tails are fast. They cover a lot of ground, and when they’ve moved on, the moss that grows back has blue seeds or spores or something—sends up a cloud of blue mist and the whole plain is covered in new growth,” Crowe said.

  “Great. An even bigger space cow. I’m noticing a theme.”

  “Don’t get too comfortable with the idea that nothing will kill you out here. For every animal like them, there are a half dozen smaller things that would be perfectly happy to turn you into dinner, and some of them do it in ways you’ve never imagined. For all the decent weather and open spaces, it’s a hard world, made harder by the people who are here,” Crowe said.

  “I’ll keep it in mind,” Nolan said, pulling out a ration pack.

  Crowe handed him a flask and a piece of jerky.

  “Thanks.”

  “Don’t thank me ’til you taste it,” he said.

  He took a sip of the flask. The liquor burned with a clean heat, smooth and milder than he expected. “That’s not bad.”

  “Try the jerky. It’s bird, not space cow, as you might expect.”

  Nolan bit down on the tough meat, chewed for a long moment, and then gave Crow a polite smile. “It’s . . . ah, edible.”

  “That it is. High in protein and minerals. You can survive on it for weeks, if you’ve the misfortune to be away from any other food sources,” Crowe said.

  “A bit gamey, but still better than some of the things I’ve eaten out of the tanks on Brightline,” he said.

  “Tank food.” Crowe shuddered. “Had it once. I think it was moving.”

  “That’s on a good day,” Nolan said with a laugh, and then the enormity of the night sky settled over them, and he felt a sense of disconnect so powerful it was a physical presence. “I don’t know where I’m going to go next.”

  “To Sunward, of course,” Crowe said instantly.

  “Past that, I mean. I’m stuck here, aren’t I?”

  “We all are. But, if I’m not mistaken—isn’t this better than being on the run in a stolen ship? A fiery death when someone finally spaces you and you die freezing in the black?” Crowe asked, handing him the flask again.

  “I guess it is at that. It’s a lot to consider.”

  “It’s a big world. If nothin’ else, you won’t be bored,” he said.

  “Somehow, boredom strikes me as being far down the list of ways to die,” Nolan said, then looked in the direction of the settlement, which was nestled against the cliffs like scared children. “Why have you put down roots?”

  He gave the smallest of shrugs, then his face went slack as he sifted memories. Judging by the ripple of emotion he was trying to hide, not all of them were good. “Like I said, it’s a big planet, and I guess I got tired of walking. For some people, that isn’t good enough. They want more than”—he waved vaguely, a gesture meant to encompass his life—“whatever it is I’m doing, and as you get more to the east, things sort of change. People have forgotten more about where they came from. It’s like the universe and star travel never happened for the empires along that big damned river. Amnesia, but for everyone. A man could get killed for bringing too much tech into the river kingdoms, though—it’s a big world, and there are plenty of other things waiting to be found.” Peering up, he nodded toward a small moon peeking shyly over the hills. “Two of the three moons tonight. We can leave before dawn when all three are up. It’s bright enough to travel.”

  Nolan didn’t mention he could travel at night but gave a small nod of agreement, choosing to keep that card hidden. “Sounds good. I need to heal, anyway. Banged around a lot more than I realized. Do we set watches here?”

  “No need. If the flatbacks head our way, we’ll know. They’re not the most delicate creatures, and anything else would find the ladder too challenging. You can rest easy, Nolan,” he said.

  Nolan sent a message to Cherry. “Keep watch with whatever sensors are working. I need to catch a few hours downtime.”

  “Consider it done. Sleep on your side, Nolan,” she said.

  “Why?”

  “Because you snore, and we don’t want to keep the flatbacks awake,” Cherry said, then fell into a smug silence as the stars wheeled overhead.

  Chapter Four

  The Drowned Bride

  She died when the river filled her lungs, but not right away.

  It takes time for the body to surrender, and Corra was young and strong, fighting against the inevitable. She was pure North’r, made for hard times and cold wind, but she was not meant to be under the river, sinking toward a distant bottom where bones and ghosts waited for her to join them. Red hair in a nimbus, she began to drift in the current, caught up in a liquid tumble as her arms waved, pale and dead in the light of two uncaring moons. Around her, the white dress flowed agains
t her sword and belt, pushed by the bullying current in a last elegant gesture, nearly as beautiful as the girl who wore it.

  Her mouth moved, but no words would come. Ren, she tried to say, but he too was dead. They were all dead, everyone on the wedding barge now spilled into the depths, both royalty and commoner alike, while the craft smoldered on the surface far above, charred timbers and chaotic debris already sweeping downriver as so much flotsam. The death of their marriage. Of their hope. The death of plans for a world that needed them both to survive a time of war and pain.

  It was a day for the ages, joining two ancient kingdoms for love and power, but the dream was gone, lost in a torrent of flame and screams when huskworms tore the deck apart like kindling. Hundreds spilled into the swift current while candle flame set the world ablaze, gowns and suits sparking like tinder in the perfumed air of the barge, festooned with gifts and ribbons of every kingdom in the known world. The day was ended; the dream ended, just like the guests being swept underwater, their fine clothes anchors in the savage current.

  Corra sank. What else could she do? The river always came back to claim its own, and even queens would kneel before the river in the end.

  Three silver bubbles left her pale lips, chasing each other to the moons above, but their trip ended when a powerful hand sliced through the water to grab her waist and pull her to the surface with smooth kicks. A halfkin, his muscles smooth and strong, skin dark as night.

  He looked at the girl, like so many others in the water after the barge shattered and burned. Freckles, enormous eyes staring at nothing, the iris as blue as a winter sky. A girl from upriver. A royal girl, her sword dangling bright in the water, its edge gleaming with danger.

  A queen.

  Creel, one of the humanoid River Children who made their home under the water, kicked harder, pulling her to the surface. As he broke into clear air, his sensitive ears picked up an unnatural hum, like the wings of an insect, but—

  His eyes flicked upwards, seeing an odd shape, hovering, its dark outline almost invisible even to his flawless vision. The object moved, side to side, always returning to focus downward, right at him—right at Corra. An eye blinked on the flying creature, though Creel had no idea what manner of animal could remain motionless, just out of reach in the swirling air. He sensed intelligence, but then Corra’s legs spasmed, he hoisted her limp figure closer to him with a desperation born of who she was. Who she might be; given a chance at life beyond this horrific night. Pulling the girl along, Creel looked away from the strange watcher, and in a moment, forgot it had ever been there. Corra was his concern. Corra, the girl whose pulse fluttered weakly in her neck, sending a hopeful smile along Creel’s wide, honest features.

  “Breathe for me, Corra. Please. Breathe.”

  Above him, his words were repeated, in a distant, tinny voice. Corra. Breathe.

  Creel didn’t even look up, because the people sinking around him needed saving, but this one, he knew, might end up saving them all.

  Drone Download: Report 1

  Nolan didn’t move as the images began to flicker in his mind’s eye. It was data from Jack and Diane, and it was for him alone.

  He sent the command. Begin.

  The terse lines scrolled past, neither slow nor hurried, kept away even from Cherry’s awareness, just as he’d programmed into the two Mark Six Espionage Aggregators, stolen by him at great risk, and even now, hovering in two locations over the roiling waters of the massive, distant river system that carved this planet in a relentless tumble.

  Blended society. Technology erratic. Little obvious knowledge of galactic travel, races, or trade. Planetary origin uncertain. Massive transfer system in river, powered by water and simple technology, but of materials not in current database. First incident of note recorded.

  Wedding union of regents to coalesce power.

  Wedding sabotaged. Three hundred sixty-four dead. Missing number unknown.

  Three kingdoms. Two under nominal control. Middle kingdom unstable. One regent deceased. One alive.

  Nolan remained absolutely still. The technology was interesting, but the political power structure was something that he needed to know immediately. Clarify. Which regent survived?

  The drone—it was Diane, Nolan knew—highlighted a file icon indicating there was a ten second video. The drones could only carry so much data before dumping, per his command, so he knew whatever the AI subroutine recorded, it was important.

  Play video, Nolan ordered.

  The image flared to life in Nolan’s vision, and for a brief, shocking moment, he was above the black water, sparks floating past in the air—and there was a being. A human, but not quite, holding a young girl of incredible beauty, her hair waving in the current around a pale face with enormous eyes. The humanoid, or man, held the girl, imploring her to breathe.

  Nolan listened, and watched. Corra. Her name was Corra, and she was supposed to be a queen.

  Interesting. Nolan didn’t know much about this planet, but he knew that a queen—even a young one, waterlogged and scared—would be an ally worth having.

  Corra. A queen. Nolan smiled. He could keep secrets, even from Cherry. For now.

  Chapter Five

  Nolan

  True to his word, Crowe woke Nolan before dawn.

  “You’ve slept nine hours, Nolan,” Cherry said.

  “Wha—why’s it dark then?” he asked her.

  “Local days are twenty-nine hours. The years are four hundred forty-eight days, and you’re currently in the heart of spring. Mild axial tilt, but enough seasonal shift to cause hard winters in the north and extreme south,” Cherry reported.

  “No wonder I feel better.” Nolan stretched again, bones popping with an alarming range of sounds. “And worse.”

  “A few hours on the moss will set you right,” Crowe said from the gloom. “We’ll arrive early morning. Outer sentries will see us before that.”

  “Hope they don’t shoot on sight,” Nolan said, tugging the sled around toward Sunward. It had taken a few minutes to load, and the three moons cast a range of light from pale yellow to rust, the smallest moon being colored like copper.

  “They won’t,” Crowe said, serenely confident. “Here we go.”

  The two men fell into a rhythm almost instantly, following a path that was too narrow to be made by a flatback but still well-defined. After the first hour, they began to gain altitude again as the land undulated slowly, like a serpent’s back. Small streams flowed in the low points, and whirring sounds signaled the flight of creatures that were birdlike except for their long, thin tails, their indignant calls breaking the stillness as they made their way over a low ridge.

  Before them, the land began to grow lighter as the star rose, casting pale pink rays across the uneven features. Shadows faded, the air warmed, and Nolan saw subtle variations in the land beyond moss and rocks. There were different plants—alien, but quite obviously distinct from the relentless uniformity of the moss. They heard insects and the distant cry of a flying animal as it wheeled on a morning updraft, the delta shape streaking west before Nolan’s artificial eye could bring it into focus. The planet was undeniably alive, leaving Nolan with a sensation of vulnerability he didn’t like.

  “At least I won’t starve,” Nolan said.

  Crowe heard and answered with a laugh.

  “We all think that at first. Spacer tales of men eating their own dead and whatnot. No need to entertain that panic here, Nolan. There’s food and water aplenty, even for people who don’t like sour things,” Crowe said with a sly grin.

  “Good, because if everything was sour, then I’ll cheerfully starve.”

  “Nah, lots of things that aren’t sour, you fussy lad. And here we are,” he said. “Let everyone know we have a guest,” Crowe said in a conversational tone. Nolan soon understood why.

  Less than ten meters away, a tall, skinny girl stood up out of the moss, wearing camouflage so flawless Nolan had a hard time focusing on her, even with his
chipped eye.

  “Hi, Da.” She waved in the awkward manner of a young teen.

  “Hi, honey. You pulled sniper post?” Crowe asked.

  Nolan noticed the girl carried a rifle of modern design. Her grip was confident, and the weapon wasn’t for decoration.

  “I did. The others are all fussing over the kits,” she said, rolling her eyes in a gesture that was universal for teens. “I’m so ready to move this litter outside. They’re getting stinky, Da. Oh, I’m Elle. I’m his oldest.” She took Nolan’s hand and pumped it vigorously.

  “How old are you? What are kits? Kids like you?” Nolan asked in a tumble of questions.

  “Da?” Elle asked. Crowe gave a subtle nod, and she grinned in the way kids do when they feel safe. “I’m thirteen. I know. Da’s only been here for eleven years, but he took us in. Still does whenever there’s kids an’ people on the run from the West’r and all of their, um—”

  “It’s all right, Elle. Let’s go home. I’ll explain.” Crowe began leading me to the cliff face, which was bustling with activity around the sand colored houses that were built cleverly into levels, like a honeycomb. “Kits, not kids, though I take both of them in. The kits are young Filus, somewhere between a cat and a dog from Earth. They live around us as pets, but having a litter of them teaches the kids—not kits, this time—about working with the animals here. We’re caught in a twilight between civilization you know and a place you’ve only heard of in history.”

  “So there’s technology here?” Nolan asked. People began waving as they climbed a winding path toward the wooden gates, which were swinging open at Crowe’s approach.