The Broken Reign

by Jeremy Michelson

  Something whizzed through the air. Suddenly the soldier was down, gagging, clawing at the arrow sticking through his neck. Fortune stared dumbly at the man. Another hand grabbed his arm and Fortune looked up. Dovd, his face bloody and purple, one eye swollen shut.

  “Come on, let’s get out of here while they’re confused,” Dovd said. His words were barely recognizable around his swollen mouth. Before Fortune could say anything, Dovd shoved him at the horses. “Go! This is the only chance we’ll get.”

  Fortune glanced at the soldiers running around the campground. In the middle of them was Hemsdell. His shouts could be heard above everything else. Fortune had no doubt Hemsdell was correct in his assessment of who was behind the fire. It sounded like something Hurdroth would do. Especially after his humiliation at Hemsdell’s hands. The man would be willing to literally scorch the earth to have his vengeance.

  Someone was tugging at his arm. He turned and saw his furry, floppy-eared brother.

  “Rrrrrrowlf! Need to g-g-go,” Yord said.

  Fortune put his arms around his brother and hugged him. Yord had run off after the soldiers surrounded them. Once again he had thought him dead.

  "It's good to see you, dear brother. Amaya should have turned you into a cat. You seem to have nine lives."

  “Rarf! Using them up fast,” Yord said, “Get up up up on horse, now.”

  Yord led him to the horse with the white ring around its eye. Fortune wished there was another one closer. This one had an attitude. Not to mention the endless amounts of flatulence it produced.

  Dovd was already up on another horse. He waved them on. “Hurry, hurry!”

  With Yord's help, Fortune pulled himself into the saddle. His body ached and his seat protested being put back on the horse. Just a little further.

  Just a little further.

  Yord clambered on behind Fortune and slapped the horse’s rear. They sped off into the forest.

  Just a little further.

  Somewhere there had to be an end to this.

  Sixty-Seven

  Vazsa

  Vazsa woke with a start. A heavy arm was draped over her. She felt warm skin pressed against her back. The strong musk of maleness filled her nostrils. For a dizzying moment, she thought she was back in Hurdroth's bed.

  Then her eyes focused on the metal wall a few feet away. It all came rushing back to her. Destroying the Armor, getting captured, escaping, coming back to the ship.

  Lou.

  She looked down at the arm laying across her naked skin. Muscled and covered with fine blonde hairs. There were scars on the forearm and hand. A hand of someone who knew battle.

  But also a hand that understood tenderness.

  She snuggled closer to him, feeling the heat of him. It was a small shock to realize she wouldn’t mind staying this way for a long time.

  The arm tightened around her. The hand caressed her skin, moving down her arm. It touched her belly, sliding up to her chest and cupping her breast. Soft lips tickled her neck.

  “Good morning soldier,” Lou said.

  She turned on the narrow bunk, smiling up at him.

  “Good morning yourself.”

  He bent toward her.

  Someone banged on the cabin door.

  “Lou!”

  Lou swore and looked up. “What!”

  “You gotta come out here! Vazsa you too! Come to the bridge, quick!”

  It sounded like Pete. Lou sighed and shrugged. “Duty calls,” he said.

  They dressed quickly and hurried to the bridge. Though, to Vazsa, the room didn’t look anything like a bridge. A bridge was something you put over a river to make it easier to cross. This was just a room filled with buttons and dials and levers and screens. It reminded her of the cockpit of the Armor. She wondered if there were weapons systems here, too.

  Pete and Dr. Fran were standing over Tony, who was seated in front of a large screen. Cray was standing near Dr. Fran. He nodded to her as she entered, a serious look on his face. Lou rushed over to the screen, bending down to look at it like Pete and Dr. Fran.

  “What the hell,” he said.

  “Hell indeed,” Dr. Fran said.

  Joshua and Kojanza came in. He immediately made his way to the screen. Vazsa exchanged looks with Kojanza. She still looked pale, but her eyes were brighter and there was color in her cheeks, at least.

  “What’s going on?” Joshua asked, “Is that what I think it is?”

  Vazsa moved closer to the screen. Orange and yellow lights danced across it. She drew in a sharp breath.

  “It is,” Tony said, “The damned forest is burning.”

  Sixty-Eight

  The Red Witch

  The Red Witch stood in the meadow, watching the northern horizon. There was a gray smudge above it.

  She looked down at the red covered book in her hand. It was open to the last page. She read her father’s neat handwriting. Past the five sentences at the top of the page. Down to the last words he had for her.

  This is where you step into the unknown. I don’t know if this will work. I believe it will, but I don’t know what’s going to happen after a certain point. I believe in you, though. Remember that above all, your mother and I love you and your sisters. What we ask of you now is more than anyone should ever be asked. It is your choice. You are free, Saven. Do what your heart tells you is best for you.

  She closed the book. “You are wrong, father,” she whispered, “I am not free. I will never be free.”

  She tucked the book into her robe. She raised her eyes back to the horizon. The gray smudge continued to grow. She was very conscious of the weight of Sonomorte, resting in the sheath on her back.

  Footsteps behind her. Too heavy to be that of either of her sisters.

  “It’s done,” Captain Kelsey said, “I’m sorry, Red.”

  She nodded. “Are my sisters still in the house?”

  He came around beside her. He was focusing on the horizon now, too. Did he suspect what it was?

  “Yeah. They’re getting consoled by my eggheads,” he said, “I knew Ramirez and the brunette had something going on. But Ron and the pre–uh, the blonde one surprised me.”

  “We have names, Captain,” The Red Witch said, “The brunette is Lavey. The pretty one is Javanae.”

  The Captain's cheeks reddened. "Right, sorry. Well, we got your mom a proper burial."

  It had been Lavey who found their mother. Of course. Sometime in the night, after revealing the sword to The Red Witch, she left her withered husk.

  Are you with father now?

  To The Red Witch's surprise, the passing of her mother hurt. She had thought when the day came, it would be a relief. Like a weight lifted off her. Instead, it was like an empty place inside her. Almost as large as the one father had left.

  Javanae seemed to be in as much shock as Levay. Another surprise. The Red Witch thought Javanae had been aching for mother’s death. Instead, she had come out The Red Witch, falling to her knees and putting her arms around her.

  Mother is dead. It was all she could get out before breaking into sobs.

  The Red Witch thought the world had shifted as much as it was going to. But she realized her mistake. The world had never stopped shifting. It never would. Something would always be changing.

  With luck, with perseverance, she would keep her footing, and then stride forward.

  “Sun’s going down, Red,” The Captain said, “Are we still leaving?”

  She looked to the northern horizon. The gray was rising higher.

  “Yes.”

  Sixty-Nine

  The Red Witch

  They gathered in the main room of the house. The Red Witch noted with some amusement that Javanae and Lavey stood next to the men they had chosen. Captain Kelsey paced in front of them. His hands pulled at the straps of his backpack. There was an odd smell in the room, like burning oil.

  “Well Red, where is this portal?” he said.

  “It is close.” She pulled the h
ood of her robe over her head. “I believe there may be a question of who is coming with us, though.”

  The Captain stopped in front of her. “What are you talking about?”

  She nodded to the two couples. The Captain turned and looked at them.

  “Ron? Ramirez?”

  The men’s faces reddened. They shifted from one foot to another.

  “Captain,” Professor Hennessy said, “Angelo and I have talked it over. We’re going to stay here.”

  “The hell you are,” The Captain said, “You’re coming back to the ship and we’re getting the hell out of here. Bring your women if you want, but we’re going.”

  Ramirez shook his head. “No. We’re staying. You can go on if you want, but I’m happy here.”

  The Captain’s face went red. He clenched his hands into fists and stepped toward the men. The Red Witch saw them flinch, but they stood their ground. The Captain was bigger than both of them, and looked more the warrior than either. But she could see their hearts were giving them courage.

  “God damnit. You eggheads have given me nothing but trouble from day one,” The Captain said, “You idiots really think you can survive out here? You wouldn’t last a month without my help.”

  Hennessy straightened up. “There’s a lot of technology here. I think we’ll be fine,” he said, “But thank you for your concern, Captain.”

  The Red Witch touched the Captain’s arm. “They will stay, Captain,” she said, “We must go.”

  Javanae stepped forward. “No. You aren’t leaving, either, sister.”

  The Red Witch’s heart skipped a beat. They stared at each other for an achingly long silence.

  “What have you done, sister?” The Red Witch asked.

  Javanae’s lips turned up in a triumphant smile. “I know mother wanted all of us to stay together,” she said, “We are family, and the family must stay together.”

  The Red Witch’s body trembled under her robe. Javanae was finally making her play for power. How foolish The Red Witch had been to believe her sister’s ambitions had been quelled.

  “Javanae, what did you do?” she asked.

  “What’s going on now?” The Captain asked.

  Javanae, her smile broadening, gave a languid wave toward the big, stone fireplace. The Red Witch’s breath hissed through clenched teeth. The burning oil smell. How could she have missed it?

  In the fireplace the last remnants of the portal painting were turning black. Gray smoke curled from the charred pieces of the frame.

  The Red Witch turned on Javanae. She wanted to claw the smug look from her sister’s face.

  “You are a fool, Javanae,” The Red Witch said, “You have doomed us all. You have doomed our world.”

  Javanae shook her head. “No, sister, I have saved us. I have saved the family. The war will never touch us here.”

  “War? What war?” The Captain asked, “Someone needs to start giving some explanations. Now.”

  The Red Witch kept her eyes on her sister. “Javanae has destroyed the portal.”

  The Captain whipped around, taking a step toward her. “What! That was our ticket home!” He turned to the two men. “Did you help with this?”

  Professor Hennessy looked away, but Dr. Ramirez held his head up, his face defiant.

  “Yes,” Ramirez said, “As we told you, we don’t want to leave.”

  The Captain clapped his hands to his head and groaned. “You damned idiots. We were so close to getting off this ball of dirt.”

  The Red Witch’s mind was reeling. How could this have happened? There was nothing in father’s book that warned of Javanae’s treachery.

  She turned, looking to the window facing the northern horizon. The setting sun painted the clouds hanging over it blood red.

  It couldn’t end like this. Father wouldn’t have let it. Father would have...

  Of course!

  She turned back, her heart speeding up. Javanae must have seen something in her face. Her smug smile dimmed. The Red Witch brushed past her, down the short hall to mother's room. A glance back showed her everyone was following her.

  “Sister, what are you doing?” Javanae asked.

  The Red Witch opened the door. It still smelled of sickness, but the room felt cold and empty now. Had it only been a yesterday that mother spoke to her for the last time?

  She moved across the room. Where would...

  She stopped. The walls were bare. The portal painting had been taken off the wall over the bed. The only other place was the floor.

  Javanae came into the room. “Sister, are you feeling all right? Perhaps you should lie down.” She looked to the men crowded in the doorway. “Mother’s death has been very traumatic for her. Given my sister’s fragile mental state, we should–”

  "The bed," The Red Witch said. She pointed to the Captain. "You. Lift the bed away from that spot."

  The Captain didn’t hesitate. He shouldered aside Hennessy and Ramirez. With one hand he flipped the heavy bed aside. There was a woven carpet under it.

  “That too?” he asked.

  The Red Witch nodded. He grabbed the rug and yanked it away. Javanae uttered a curse and ran from the room. The Red Witch let herself smile, relief flooding her.

  The Captain stood, scratching at his head. “And just what is this?” he asked.

  The Red Witch looked down at the intricately carved patterns on the floor. They were contained within a framed etched into the stone floor. As she gazed at it, the swirling patterns coalesced into an image. Hidden in the design was a teapot.

  It wasn’t in father’s red book. But she knew now that was because he knew Javanae would read it.

  “Father always had a backup plan,” The Red Witch said.

  Seventy

  Lord Fortune

  The horses scrambled up the red rocks of the creek bed. The snow was thinner here, but Lord Fortune could feel the weight of it hanging in the branches above him. Smoke from the approaching fires making him cough. Dovd slapped his horse’s rump, urging it on with curses. Yord clung to Fortune, arms wrapped around his midsection. The smell of wet dog filled Fortune’s nostrils.

  "We're in the red rocks!" Fortune shouted. "Look for big, split boulder! We must turn west there!"

  "You mean like that one?" Dovd said.

  In the dimming light, Fortune saw the boulder. It loomed above them, streaked with black moss. The split showed red like a wound. Dovd reined his horse to a stop. Fortune did the same. His horse promptly stopped, then release a noxious burst of flatulence.

  Dovd waved his hand in the air. "Something's wrong with that horse," he said.

  Fortune ignored it. As much as his olfactory system would let him, at least. He studied the boulder. Something bothered him about it. The split wasn't jagged like a break. It was smooth as if it were a loaf of bread, and someone had taken a great knife to it. He hadn’t taken note of that the last time he had been here.

  "Is this it, old man?" Dovd asked.

  The cut in the rock glistened wetly. Red, bright as blood.

  "Yes," Fortune said. His mind drifted back to the day Anta Vin took him to the vessel. A part of him was terrified that he might be breaking the treaty. Though enough time had passed that he was reasonably sure Amaya wasn't returning, he still didn't want to face her wrath.

  Anta Vin didn't share his fear. The bitch is gone. I don't think she's coming back.

  You hope she isn't coming back.

  Anta Vin didn't reply, but gave him a stubborn look. She told him to go home if he was so afraid.

  He didn't.

  And now he was back.

  "Well, which way, old man?" Dovd said.

  Fortune shook his head, forcing the memories back into their box. There wasn't time for reminiscing. Hemsdell would be hot on their trail. Possibly Hurdroth as well. He still had no idea what he and Dovd were going to do once they got to the vessel. It would still be locked to anyone other than Amaya or one of her blood.

  His only hope was
that the red-haired man was there. Perhaps it would be possible to negotiate.

  “Follow the draw up to the top of the ridge,” Fortune said. “There will be another split rock.”

  Dovd didn’t hesitate. He slapped the reins to his horse. It snorted and set off, plunging through the snow, scrabbling up onto the hill. Fortune did the same to his horse. It responded with another blast from its rear. Then started up the hill in a more leisurely manner.

  “Rrrrrr-remember this place,” Yord said behind him. “Rrrrorf! B-b-bad place. Bark! A-A-Amaya here. Smelled her.”

  “Do you still smell her?” Fortune asked.

  Yord whined and whimpered. “Grrrrrr...S-s-smell her everywhere now. Rarf! A-A-A-Amaya is everywhere.”

  Fortune’s blood ran cold. Amaya is everywhere.

  And the treaty had been broken.

  Seventy-One

  Joshua

  Tony pointed to another screen. “Forest fire isn’t our only problem,” he said.

  Joshua looked. On the screen were dozens of men in leather armor rushing toward the camera. He looked up at Vazsa.

  "Do you know who those belong to?" he asked.

  She was pale and shaking, still staring at the images of burning trees. Joshua straightened up and grabbed her shoulder. Her head whipped around. The rest of her was in motion, too, arms coming up, body twisting away from his hand.

  He blocked her blows with one hand. His other hand got an iron lock on her arm. After a couple more swings, he caught her other arm. He held her at arm’s length while she struggled.

  “Let me go!” she screamed, “I have to go! I have to warn my people!”

  Joshua held on, lifting her off the deck. Her legs kicked at him, barely missing.

  “I’m sure they’ve already figured it out,” he said, “Right now I need you to tell me who those soldiers are.”