by Scott McKay
Robert’s worry about his family, and the panic about their fate, was no longer the only thought in his mind. Not anymore. As he saw the carnage and the horror at homestead after homestead, what welled up in him was rage. Rage and vengeance.
He knew this night had changed him. All he wanted was to kill Udar, and he didn’t care whom. The scared boy missing his mother was gone forever, and someone else–something else–had taken his place.
Rob sensed Will had a somewhat similar reaction to his own sudden grief, but his friend, who had always been fairly easy to read, was giving off a different air than he’d seen from him before. Normally quite outgoing, Will had nothing much to say about anything that night, and along the ride Rob had tried, without success, to engage him in conversation.
And the more death and destruction they’d seen south of Dunnansport, the quieter Will had gotten. He was in charge of the scouting party, and he gave orders with a professionalism that impressed Rob, given that Will’s only experience in this sort of thing was in mock training battles in the woods adjoining the academy, but he could sense that his friend was a lot more affected than he let on. Will’s facial expression had turned blank, and the carnage he’d seen didn’t move him at all anymore.
For Robert, it was different. His fires were burning close to the surface, and while Will was keeping a poker face Robert could feel himself losing control. His fury was eating him whole, having already consumed the grief he’d expected to feel.
Shortly before dawn, after working to the farthest southern edge of the Dunnan’s Claim homesteads and turning west toward Barley Point, Will and Rob’s group met up with the main Dunnansport contingent and compared notes. The damage had been severe. Of twenty-nine farms the men had examined, all had been hit. Bodies of their countrymen had been found at twenty-seven, many more than 100 dead. But thirty-four Udar corpses had also been found, seemingly a fairly high casualty rate. When they caught up with the savages they might have an advantage. And there would be hell to pay.
The contingent set up a couple of campfires on the Dunnansport side of a slight ridgeline which trailed north, giving them a bit of cover from the view of any Udar scouts who might otherwise see their fires, and pitched a quick makeshift camp.
“Let’s put out a sentry and get a couple hours of rest,” said David. “After dawn we’re going to sweep south to the coast and then west, and we’ll catch up with the Barley Point group tomorrow.”
His uncle pulled Rob aside with his good arm as the men tucked in for a short bit of shut-eye. “What you saw out there,” he said, “I know you haven’t seen that before.”
“Yeah, well,” Rob answered. “I’ve seen it now, haven’t I?”
“Rob, we don’t know that’s what happened to your parents and your sisters.”
“Yes we do, Uncle,” he said. “I’ve carried that pigshit around with me all night. Oh, they’re fine, they made it out. But they didn’t. All those farms we looked in on? Four survivors. Four. Ethan and Hannah got out, which is a miracle. But everybody else? Let’s not be deluded. And Uncle…the Blaines. I can’t even describe it.”
“They took prisoners, Robert,” David shook him by the lapel of his leather jacket. “That’s why they came up here. It’s how they work. Stay in this fight, and we still have hope that we can see Sarah, Tabitha and your mother again. You get me?”
“Oh, I get you, Uncle,” Rob said. “I’m in this fight. Don’t you worry about that. Only thing keeping me moving is I want a good damn kill, and then I want another.”
“Well, we can use that. What about Will? How’s he holding up?”
Rob looked over at his friend, who had prepared a sleeping berth with his bed roll and saddle but was just sitting by the fire with that same blank stare as he gazed at the flames.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Outwardly, he’s fine I guess. He’s functioning. But he’s not right, Uncle David. He’s distant. He’s a talker, but he isn’t talking now.”
“Well, it’s understandable,” said David. “War does that to a man. But I want to know if either one of you can’t handle it. You’re both under more strain than anyone could expect right now, and it’s indecent neither one of you can properly grieve. I shouldn’t have dragged you two out here, and I’m sorry for that. By the saints, you’re not even eighteen yet and what you’ve seen tonight...”
“No, you need us,” Rob said. “And I’ll be all right. I’m eighteen in two days; I’m not some little kid. My engine is running. I’m sure his is, too,” he said looking at Will, who had slumped onto his back next to the fire.
…
FIFTEEN
Elkstrand – Early Morning (Second Day)
Cross brought Gresham with him to the hastily-arranged confab at the Oleander Club, an exclusive hot spot on the north end of Principia’s entertainment district where he’d been told to expect a delegation of political and military grandees and to be at his most charming and agreeable. He’d been told that by Madison Gregg, the Cross family’s solicitor and hired political insider, who had known about Harms’ overture to him even before Cross had sent him a message upon landing at Pelgreen. Gregg, in fact, had set up this late-night meeting.
So when Cross and Gresham arrived at the Oleander Club, Sebastian’s old gal-pal Kimberley Swain, the club’s hostess with whom he’d had many a late evening of lubricating liquors and various levels of intimate interactions, led them up to the VIP lounge on the third floor, and Gregg met them at the top of the stairs.
“Delivery for you, Mr. Gregg,” she said flirtatiously. “You don’t even have to sign for them.”
“You’re the best, Kimberley,” the solicitor said with a familiarity which surprised Sebastian. He gave her a glance, which was returned with a slight shrug before she turned around and departed, her sleek golden dress shimmering in the electric light as her matching high heels carried her back down the club’s red-carpeted staircase.
The three paused at the scenery. Cross was broken out of his reverie when Gregg grabbed him and dragged him and Gresham into a nearby anteroom.
“All right,” he instructed the pair. “Showtime. We’ve got some big fish in the net in there, and this is a big moment for both of you. You both need to keep a cool head, don’t get offended by anything that’s said and for the love of the Saints keep your bloody mouths shut unless you get asked a direct question. Get me?”
“What’s going on in that room?” asked Gresham with an air of suspicion bordering on hostility.
“That is entirely the wrong attitude, boy,” Gregg answered. “What’s going on in there is you getting to end up rich with a chunk of a business they trade shares of at the Havener Street exchange, no more lawsuits, no more damages and a hell of a lot better product to sell than two airships that could blow to blazes at any time.”
“Hey, sod off,” Gresham bristled. “I’m not going to…”
“Shut your damned mouth!” Gregg hissed. “You pop off one more time and I’m sending you out of here and we’ll deal with him” – he pointed at Cross – “and you can go back to that shithole in Ackerton you come from.”
“Let’s just hear these guys out, all right?” Cross said, soothingly. “I think this might turn out to our satisfaction. Come on, old boy.”
Gresham glared at him, whispering “We’re going to lose the company to whatever is going on in there, and if you’d done what needed to be done a month ago, we’d have options.”
Cross wanted to respond. He wanted to jump down Gresham’s throat, frankly, as he’d held his tongue about how Gresham had built airships that were flying bombs and killed sixty-four people with shitty, crackpot engineering, about how he was now piloting one of those flying bombs every damned day while trying to run what was left of the business with no sleep, no respite from the constant flow of bad news and no prospect of it getting better, and about how he’d lost his fortune backing a business that was down the tubes despite all his best efforts to save it short of debasing himself
in front of his family, which he would sooner die than do.
And he also wanted to tell Gresham that he knew about his kickbacks and graft, and that maybe if he’d put Cross’ personal resources and those of the company’s investors, all of whom were Cross’ family friends, into engineering and materials instead of his greasy pockets, they wouldn’t be in such dire straits.
But he didn’t.
Because Sebastian Cross was not the guy who tore people a new posterior orifice. He let the hotheads do that. And Sebastian Cross was no hothead. Sebastian Cross was the guy everybody liked, and therefore would do things for when he asked them. And Sebastian Cross didn’t show anger, because showing anger always made things worse.
So instead, he kept his mouth shut like Gregg told him to. Because when they entered the lounge he knew that opportunity was knocking in that room, and loudly, and anger and recrimination would be expensive commodities they couldn’t afford.
He knew that because the codgers sitting on the plush chairs and couches of the lounge, puffing on cannabis pipes and swigging from tumblers of Beacon Point whisky, were some of the heaviest hitters in all of Ardenia.
There were Harms, Vines, Gray and Gregory, who’d been part of his conversation as the Ann Marie had landed at Pelgreen. There was John Elmore, the Minister of Defense. There was Paul Porter, the Chief Delegate of the Societam. Delegate Carlton Raines, twirling his handlebar moustache, chaired the Parliament’s Treasury Committee. Michael Todd was in the center of the room; he was the presiding executive of the Ardenian Transport Commission, the regulatory agency supervising locomotive, river and coastal ship transportation which had not yet claimed jurisdiction over the new airship industry Cross and Gresham had pioneered–a miracle Cross figured was existing on borrowed time. General Abraham Dees was there; he was chief of the Army-Navy Office of Special Warfare. Jonah Barnaby, Director-General of the Peace Party, was pouring himself a strong one at the courtesy bar. Cross saw Victor Phelps, the Admiralty’s chief of staff, making notes as he sat on the far couch.
And then there was Maynard Stone, chief of staff to President Catherine Greene. Stone was the second most powerful person in the country, eyeing Cross and Gresham as they entered the lounge.
“Well, hello gentlemen,” Cross announced. “I’m surprised and humbled to see such a distinguished assemblage.”
“Sit down,” Porter ordered, pointing to two chairs in the middle of the room. Cross and Gresham complied.
Dees then piped up. “You two might be the luckiest bastards who ever lived, you know that?”
…
SIXTEEN
The Camp – Early Morning (Second Day)
It was a little after dark when the women came again for Sarah. She didn’t resist, as by now she was fairly sure she wouldn’t be killed.
Bear it with dignity, she thought.
They led her into what she by now had recognized to be the commander’s tent, and the commander was the man who abducted her and killed Tabitha. When she was led in, she saw the naked woman she had deduced was Ardenian kneeling in the middle of the tent. And the commander, who was lounging on a cushion half-covered by a horsehair blanket while glaring at her with a lewd and intimidating expression Sarah didn’t like one bit.
Four small iron braziers were laid out near the corners of the tent with small piles of wood burning in each. That made the tent into something of a sauna, something Sarah didn’t really understand given the increasingly pleasant air outside that Sarah’s fellow captives, clad only in their shifts and stockings, sat comfortably in. Relatively speaking, given their circumstances.
“Please, kneel in front of me,” the woman, who Sarah gauged was in her mid-thirties, said. The guards pushed Sarah down facing the woman. Her gag was removed.
“Water?” the woman asked. Sarah nodded. She produced a leather canteen and poured a mouthful past Sarah’s lips. Sarah noticed the woman’s lips were tainted a dark shade of purple, and her pupils were dilated a little bit more than you would expect from a normal person. And Sarah noticed that she didn’t have hair anywhere on her body–not even on her head. Earlier when she’d seen the woman she’d had some almost-white stubble on her head, but that was gone now.
“I am Shori’zel,” she said.
Sarah cut her off. “That’s not your real name.”
“It is,” she answered patiently, but firmly. “What you mean is that I was formerly named something else, and you are correct.”
“You’re Ardenian. Are you a prisoner like me?”
“I was. I am originally from Welvary. Do you know where that is?”
Sarah nodded. Welvary was a city of 200,000 three hours east of Principia by locomotive. She’d never been there. Or Principia, for that matter. She’d always wanted to see the capital, and it dawned on her that the chances of that were fading, rapidly.
“Where were you taken?” Sarah asked.
“At Strongstead.”
“Strongstead has fallen?”
“It fell. Yes.”
“How? How long ago?”
“I don’t know. What is the date?”
“Tonight is the sixth of the tenth.”
“A month. By the Saints, it seems longer.” The woman trailed off for a moment.
“What was your name?”
“Charlotte. Charlotte Naughton. My husband was the commander at Strongstead.”
Matthew! Sarah thought. Her oldest brother was stationed there. If the Udar had the commander’s wife…Lord of All!
“How did it fall?”
“They came from above. Raptors. In the night. None manning the Citadel out of doors survived. And from below, the men. They tunneled under the Citadel and then attacked through the basement and sewers. Eight hundred men of the garrison dead.”
“Ohhh.” Sarah shut her eyes. She couldn’t process the loss of another sibling. Not Matthew as well. He’s gone a month and we didn’t even know. None of us could even say goodbye.
“The Udar are here in their millions,” Charlotte said. “They have come to finish Ardenia. All is lost. I see that now.”
“They’ve made you their slave.”
“I have chosen this. My loss was great. My husband, gone. My son, gone. But when Rapan’na,” she waved at the man behind her, and Sarah now knew that was his name, “offered me the benediction of becoming his javeen, I agreed. I have saved three of my daughters in doing so.”
Sarah gave a horrified look, which the woman brushed off. She continued.
“I am faithful to Rapan’na and his Anur, his tribe that you see in this camp. In return he keeps my daughters safe.”
“He’ll let them go?”
Charlotte shook her head. “He has spared them. He has bestowed upon them the high honor of conveying them to the capital at Qur Udar to live under the protection of the sa’halet. And when they are old enough they will also serve the Udar as javeen.”
“That’s insane. You let him sell your daughters to the king? You chose this over death and that’s all you got for it?”
“I am following the Blessed Path. I will bear with dignity the unjust suffering.”
“I don’t think I could do that if I were you.”
“But you can,” she said. “And you will. It is the only way.”
“You want me to be this…this javeen?”
“All of you will. It is why you were taken. I know now, it is the life the Lord of All has chosen for us.”
“No. I don’t believe that. This is not holy, it’s a crime and an atrocity. This did not come from the Lord of All.”
“It is what is, my dear. It is the way of war. What we make of it is what determines our fate in the afterlife.”
“They’ve brainwashed you. I’m sorry for you. I can’t believe any of this.”
“Listen to me,” Charlotte said. “There are 380 of you out there. Do you think the Udar would have the slightest hesitation in cutting every throat in those lines? They would not.”
“I don’t care
. Cut my throat now. They’ve killed my family. You’ve told me they killed my brother.”
“Who is your brother?”
“Matthew Stuart. He was at the citadel. He was a captain in the garrison there.”
Charlotte closed her eyes and paused for a minute.
“I knew Captain Stuart.” Tears welled in her eyes. Then she straightened.
“It is an unjust thing,” she declared quickly. “He was a soldier. He died for his cause.”
“Our cause. And you’re telling me he had his guts torn out by a raptor. You can make peace with that? And how was he killed in a raptor attack, anyway?” Sarah nodded toward the Udar headman. “They coordinate with deadly predators now?”
“They do,” said Charlotte, as Sarah detected a faint sparkle in her eyes. “This war, this endless war – it will end soon. You have a choice to be on the side of life. You may lead those others to that side.”
“To the enemy side? None would follow if I did choose what you’ve done. Not that I ever would.”
“You’re tired and you’re hungry. I understand your emotion. Here. Let me nourish you.”
Charlotte dipped her finger in a bowl full of some sort of gruel, and then stuck it in Sarah’s mouth. It wasn’t awful, though she surmised almost anything might be palatable after having had nothing to eat all day. The woman fed her several more bites from the bowl, then a few blackberries from another. She then gave Sarah a drink of that familiar dark liquid in a goblet. It tasted very sweet, and her head began to spin a bit.
“Let me untie your arms,” Charlotte offered. She stood and walked behind Sarah, bending to untie the knots binding each of her wrists to her elbows. Sarah unfolded her abused arms and rubbed her wrists and then stretched, her hands above her head, the circulation returning and fiery tendrils of pain spreading from her elbows. Charlotte gave her another sip of the liquid. Her head spun a little faster and the pain subsided.
