The Broken Reign

by Jeremy Michelson

  “Wait, you have a doctor?” Joshua asked. He looked at the red spot on Kojanza’s coat. It was spreading.

  Both Lou and Vazsa looked at her too. Lou scratched his head. “Yeah, all right, let’s go to the ship.”

  Sixty

  Vazsa

  Dr. Fran wasn't happy to see her. Vazsa hung back from the others, but she still felt the heat of the doctor's glare. The artificial smell of the ship made her wrinkle her nose. But at the same time, it comforted her.

  Which disturbed her for some reason.

  By the time the got to the ship the red spot on Kojanza’s got had grown to cover her entire shoulder. But she never stopped, never even took a rest unless one of the others called for one.

  Joshua had been at her side–when he could keep up with her. The worry on his face told Vazsa everything she needed to know. The foolish man was deeply in love with the pale haired woman.

  They entered the ship through the hole Vazsa had blown in the doors. Lou gave her a glowering look. She looked away, her face burning. Maybe she had been a little hasty. Her rampage with the Armor hadn’t gained her anything. And it had cost Lou and the rest of the crew a lot.

  She thought of apologizing to him, but the words stuck in her throat.

  Pete and Tony had words for her, though.

  “Well, if it isn’t little miss ungrateful,” Pete said. He pushed his hat back on his balding head. “Do you have any idea the trouble you’ve caused us?”

  “We trusted you,” Tony said, “We saved your sorry ass. You’re welcome, by the way.”

  She looked away, unable to face them. Her eyes met Joshua’s. He raised his eyebrows. Then Kojanza moaned and leaned against him. The first sign of weakness she had shown.

  “Where’s your doctor?” Joshua said.

  There was authority in his voice. Pete and Tony looked at his fierce look and broad shoulders. He picked up Kojanza. She rested her head against her shoulder.

  “This way,” Pete said.

  In the medical bay, Vazsa was saved from a tongue lashing by Dr. Fran when the doctor saw Vazsa.

  Her eyes narrowed.“Crap,” she said, “Lou, why do you keep bringing in wounded strays?”

  "Just my nature, doc," Lou said.

  Joshua stepped forward. “She needs help. She’s lost a lot of blood.”

  Dr. Fran told him to put her on a nearby bed. She pulled away the coat and swore.

  “Damned barbarians,” she said.

  She started barking orders. To Vazsa’s surprise, Cray appeared and started bringing her things. Cray? Being helpful and obedient? Had Dr. Fran done something to her brother’s mind?

  Joshua hovered close to them. At one point Dr. Fran barked at him to step back. He moved back a step, but no further, his face lined with worry.

  Lou took her arm.

  “Lets go get something to eat,” he said.

  The went down the corridor to the kitchen. Vazsa lowered herself to a chair at the table, feeling the aches and bruises that last few days had brought her. She put her chin on her hand and watched Lou busy himself with the microwave. Yet another magical device. This time one that made food hot, while at the same time drying it out and leeching the flavor out of it.

  “Are you still mad at me?” she asked.

  He gave her a sidelong glance. "Yeah, I'm still mad," he said, "But I kinda understand."

  “They killed my grandmother. Hurdroth and Dovd and Fortune took everything away.”

  The microwave dinged and Lou pulled two steaming pastries from it. He slid one to another plate and set it in front of her. A sniff told her it was something called a pepperoni Hot Pocket. There seemed to be an endless supply of them on the ship. Her stomach rumbled. Yes, she was hungry enough to eat one. She took a tentative bite. Lou sat down and gave his own Hot Pocket a sour look.

  “Damned ship cost a hundred billion dollars and they sent us off with Hot Pockets,” he said, “I think it was some sort of corporate sponsorship deal.”

  Vazsa nibbled at it, careful to not let the molten contents burn her mouth. They sat in silence as they ate. The ship bulked around her. A heavy, near crushing presence. A reminder of how much her life had changed. What was going to happen now? Would the crew let her stay after what she did? Assuming Hurdoth or Hemsdell didn’t kill them all.

  Lou finally broke the silence. “I would have helped you.”

  She looked up at him. He was staring down at his plate, moving the greasy pastry around with his fingers.

  “I would have helped you find the guy who killed your grandma,” Lou said, “None of us here would have done anything to hurt you. Not even Dr. Fran.”

  He looked up at her. He was frowning, but she sensed there wasn’t anger behind it. She held very still, her heart thumping faster. She knew she should say something, but didn’t know what.

  “You’re a good gal,” Lou said, “A good soldier. Too impulsive, though. You shouldn’t go running away from people who care about you.”

  There was a lump in her throat. “I didn’t think you...” She didn’t know how to finish the thought.

  “Think what? That we cared about you? Of course we do. You and the kid have been here with us for a year. You’re kinda like family.” Lou looked back down at his plate. He took a deep breath. “I thought we were friends. You gotta trust friends.”

  “Lou...I...”

  Tears were threatening to run down her cheeks. She forced her emotions down. She would not cry. Instead she got up. She went to Lou and put her arms around him. His body was stiff, but after a moment, he relaxed and hugged her back.

  He let her go and she pulled away. He looked down at his Hot Pocket, then stuffed it in his mouth. Finishing it off in two bites. He stood up.

  "Well, I'm gonna take a shower and get into a clean uniform," he said, "You should probably try to catch some shut-eye. Who knows what's coming next."

  Vazsa sucked on her lip. Lou and the rest of the Seattle’s crew weren’t the enemy. They never were. There were just some lost souls wanting to get back home. She stepped closer to him.

  “Would you like some company?” she asked.

  “What?”

  “I could use a shower, too.”

  “Huh? Your cabin ha–oh.”

  He stared at her for a long moment. Then he grinned. "Hell yeah, I'd like some company!"

  Sixty-One

  Lord Fortune

  Lord Fortune was getting tired of the snow. The horse under him seemed tired of it, too. The beast snorted and shook its head. Fortune had to yank the reins more than once to keep the creature from biting him.

  He sighed. Such was his life these days.

  Beside him, Dovd grunted. Fortune looked over. Somewhere Dovd had found a jug of wine and was attempting to drown himself with it.

  Yord bounded in front of them through the snow, snuffling with delight. Fortune wished he could be as oblivious.

  Their horses trudged through the snow in the dim forest. There was an eerie calm over everything. Nothing moved except them. Instead of the usual clean scents of pines, there was a hint of decay in the air. Nothing strong. Just enough to touch the edge of his senses. It smelled like mortality.

  Dovd finished off the wine jug and hurled it. The jug tumbled through the air, smashing on the trunk of the enormous trees. The horses twitched at the sound. Fortune’s made to bolt, but Fortune reined him in. Yord stopped and whined, looking at them both.

  Dovd let out an enormous belch. It reverberated in the cold air. Dovd laughed.

  “Is that really necessary?” Fortune asked.

  Dovd turned a bleary eye to him. “Damn right its necessary. If I didn’t drink, I might start to think. And if I start thinking, I might start wondering what I’m doing. Can’t be doing that. Especially now.”

  Fortune glanced around. The thick canopy made the forest dim, as if it were twilight. He could only see a few hundred feet before everything disappeared into shadow. He wished Amaya had hidden her weapons someplace mo
re hospitable. Like under his castle.

  "We should try to exercise some caution," Fortune. "It would be unwise to let the red-haired man or his people hear us."

  Dovd belched again, wobbling in his saddle. He drew his short sword from his belt and waved it in the air. Fortune eased his own horse further away.

  “Let them come at us,” Dovd said, “I am the great warrior of the forest! They will feel my...feel my...urp.”

  He leaned over and vomited a purple stream from astride his horse. Fortune put his hand to his head. He pulled the reins on his horse to make it stop. Dovd’s horse stopped also. Fortune waited. Dovd retched long and loud. At last he came up, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

  “Damn. That was some good wine,” Dovd said.

  Yord growled but Fortune shushed him.

  “We have to go back,” Fortune said.

  Dovd fixed a bleary eye on him. “What? What are you talking about old man? Have you lost your courage?”

  “Yes, I have. I don’t know what I was thinking. Look at us. An old man and a drunkard. How can we think we could best young warriors in their prime?” Fortune looked away from the wreck of a man that was Dovd. He stared off into the shadowy forest. Yord slinked back toward him, whining, turning his head back to the trees ahead of them.

  “Even in my youth I wasn’t a warrior,” Fortune said, “I always looked for ways around conflict. After Amaya forced the treaty on us, I never thought I would be at war in the waning years of my life.”

  “Amaya’s treaty needed to go,” Dovd said, “It’s holding us back.”

  Fortune shook his head. “No. It held us together.”

  Dovd spat at him. A wet, purple glob landed on his leg. Yord growled. “You’re weak. Just like Anta Vin was. She didn’t want to fight either. Always sending spies out instead of armies.” Dovd stopped to belch. “Not that we had any. But we could have. Once Anta Vin was dead, I tried to get the tribe into shape for war.”

  Fortune arched an eyebrow. "And what happened?"

  “They wouldn’t listen to me. Not most of them. There were a few of us, but...”

  “People don’t want war, Dovd,” Fortune said, “Except for a few, that is.”

  “It’s not war we crave. It’s power.”

  Fortune jumped. That voice. Dovd was twisting, looking about frantically. He held his short sword at arm's length eyes wide. Yord was growling continuously now, his fur standing up.

  “War is merely a means to an end. Once we have what we want, then there will be no need for war. Just as it was in Queen Amaya’s time.”

  “Show yourself!” Dovd shouted.

  The voice laughed. From behind the trunk of one of the huge trees came a black horse. On the horse’s back was a male rider. His fancy leather armor was stained, but the man’s hair was perfectly in place, his beard neatly trimmed.

  “General Hemsdell,” Fortune said.

  Hemsdell grinned and gave a small bow. “My dear Lord Fortune. How times have changed, have they not?”

  Fortune saw Dovd struggling to string his bow. Hemsdell noticed as well.

  “I wouldn’t bother,” Hemsdell said.

  He whistled. More men on horses came from around the tree. From behind other trees came men on foot. Fortune trembled as more and more appeared. Dozens, hundreds. An army. Yord’s growl turned to a low whine.

  Dovd lowered his bow. “The gods are punishing me,” he said.

  Hemsdell urged his horse forward. “I don’t think the gods give a rats ass about you,” he said.

  Hemsdell’s army continued to come out of the shadows. Fortune’s heart sped up as he looked out over the sea of armored bodies and hard faces. Hemsdell himself rode up beside Fortune. The General smiled broadly at him, revealing a perfect set of even, white teeth.

  “My Lord Fortune. A little bird told me that you know where Queen Amaya hid some toys. Is this true?”

  Fortune swallowed hard. Lies were pointless now. Would the world ever stop shifting on him?

  “Yes.”

  Hemsdell’s smile broadened. “Excellent. You must tell me all about it.”

  Sixty-Two

  The Red Witch

  The Red Witch hesitated at the door to her mother’s bedroom. She could feel the house closing in around her like a fist. Even though father had built the house with his own hands, it still felt like an alien place. Even though she had not grown up here, had no memories connected to the house...she still felt like a little child standing at the door to her mother’s room.

  She felt Javanae come up behind her, footsteps a whisper on the floor. The floral bouquet of Javanae’s perfume floated around her.

  “Go on, dear sister,” Javanae said, “She has been asking for you.”

  The Red Witch considered rounding on her and clawing her sister’s perfect face. What would mother say to that? How would she feel, having her perfect, beautiful child marred?

  “What are you waiting for?” Javanae asked. “Are you afraid?”

  The Red Witch turned, looking up to Javanae’s eyes. The smirk on her sister’s face was almost too much. Javanae was feeling powerful again. She would be thinking mother’s awakening would put her back in control.

  She would be disappointed.

  “Go tend to the men, sister,” The Red Witch said, “Go help Levay make their meal. Mother and I will talk while you make yourself useful.”

  Javanae’s face went red. Her breath came quickly and for a moment, The Red Witch wondered if her sister would try to strike her.

  Without another word, Javanae spun and rushed down the hall, rounding the corner and disappearing. The Red Witch permitted herself a small smile. It was a petty victory, but one she would take. She turned back to the door. There was no point in putting this off. With a sigh, she pushed the door open.

  The smell of sickness hit her. She made herself step forward into the room. The air was stagnant. She ached to run from there. Out of the house, back to the meadow with its clean air and the stars wheeling overhead.

  A single candle on the bedside table lit the room. On the big bed, a small form stirred.

  The Red Witch remembered when mother was younger, she was almost as tall as father. In her childhood eyes, her father had been a giant. Tall and broad-shouldered. Always laughing about something.

  She couldn’t remember if she ever heard mother laugh. Or smile.

  “Saven?”

  The Red Witch stepped forward, closer to the bed. Her mother pulled the blanket down. The candlelight flickered on the pale planes of her face. Rheumy blue eyes focused on her.

  “You came. I wasn’t sure you would,” mother said.

  “What do you want mother?” The Red Witch asked.

  Mother extended a bony hand and beckoned her. “Come, sit.”

  It was the last thing The Red Witch wanted to do. Still, she made herself step close to the desiccated shell that was her mother. She sat down on the hard bed. Mother put her dry hand on her arm. The Red Witch’s skin crawled more than any clothing ever had made it.

  “We are getting close to the end, aren’t we?” mother asked.

  The Red Witch hesitated. How much had father told her over the years?

  “Father told me everything,” mother said.

  The Red Witch started. Mother’s hand gripped her arm. She tried to pull away, but mother’s held her tight.

  “He told me more than you know,” mother said, “He told me more than what he wrote in the red book.”

  The Red Witch’s heart beat faster. Her mouth was dry as she spoke. “What did he tell you?”

  “Look at me, Saven,” Mother said.

  With an effort, The Red Witch raised her eyes to her mother’s. The old woman’s lined and gaunt face was expressionless. But the blue eyes still burned with life.

  Is this what you saw in her, father?

  “There is something you don’t know. Something you haven’t thought about. Or let yourself think about,” mother said.

  “What h
ave I not thought about, mother?” There was a quaver in her voice that infuriated her. She didn’t want to show weakness in front of the old woman.

  A faint smile touched the old woman’s lips. “You haven’t thought of where we came from. How we got here.”

  “Of course I have, mother. I’m not stupid. You and father came through a portal from the other world. That’s how father knew to prepare us.”

  Mother gently shook her head. "I don't have the strength to argue with you anymore, Saven. There is one last thing I must give you."

  The Red Witch could not keep the annoyance from her voice. “What?”

  All these years nothing she had done was ever good enough for mother. There was always something to be criticized. But not Javanae. Javanae was never criticized.

  “Be careful, Saven. The hate will eat you up,” Mother said.

  “Tell me what you want, mother,” The Red Witch said, “I still have preparations to make.”

  Mother gave her a sad look. Her hand still gripped The Red Witch’s arm. “I am sorry Saven. We had to push you harder than your sisters,” mother said, “Neither of them were good enough to do what you must do.”

  The Red Witch rocked back is if mother had slapped her. “What do you mean?”

  Mother turned her head, looking toward the wall. “You need the talisman to call her. Her spirit will coalesce to it.”

  The Red Witch’s head was spinning. Was the old woman’s mind finally gone?

  Mother released her arm and pointed to the wall. “Father hid it in the wall. It will open to your touch.” She looked to The Red Witch’s eyes. “It was always you, Saven. You were what she wanted. What she needed. I don’t know if she planned things this way. I wouldn’t put it past her. She plays a long, long game.”

  The Red Witch shook her head. “Mother, I don’t understand. Father’s book spoke about the three men and the starship, and the talisman.”

  The woman chuckled. “And you thought the talisman was there? Do you even know what the talisman is?”