Coming to Power

by T J Marquis

  Uryah shifted on his feet. “I was instructed to keep you inside, Lord Jon. There’s…”

  Jon waved off the order. “No one will mind,” he said. “You can blame me. After last night… after the other night I mean, I really could use some fresh air. Think you can get someone to bring me food out in the garden?”

  “I, uh, yes sir,” Uryah said, saluting.

  “No need for that, man,” Jon grinned. “We’re practically best friends now, even if I was asleep the whole time you stood watch.”

  Uryah gave a hesitant chuckle. “This way, sir.”

  They walked down several hallways lined with small rooms like Jon’s, and came to a downward shaft that had been rigged with a manual lift. Jon had had no idea they were even off the bottom floor. They rode down only one story, hefty men below working the pulley system to lower the lift. They all gave Jon appreciative looks and salutes, which he returned as best he could. The honor wasn’t really easy for him to take in, but it wouldn’t do any good to stop and try to convince every single person not to salute him or call him sir.

  They came to a gate leading to the nearest garden and stepped out into the sunlight. Its heat gave Jon’s skin a satisfying sting, and he took a deep breath of air. It wasn’t entirely fresh. There was the acrid tang of burning wood, with hints of other, chemical-laden smells. Uryah saw him make a face.

  “Things are still burning, sir,” he told Jon. “Even with the sarathi helping to put the fires out. Can’t get enough water for all the refugees and the flames together.”

  Jon nodded.

  Uryah shook his head. “These old buildings, though. You can blacken ‘em, but they don’t burn. Just the newest stuff, we’re losing a lot of it.” He seemed thoughtful, glancing at Jon. “Think it means something, sir?”

  Jon smiled. “A philosophical warrior huh?” he teased. “It might mean something, if you want it to.”

  Uryah just nodded, continuing to muse on it. He left Jon at a stone table with curved benches, resting in the shade of a large tree, and went to fetch him some food.

  Only a handful of people were about in the garden. Probably most everyone was out working to restore the City to order. Those that caught sight of Jon gave him looks and nods, turning to whisper to their companions. He wondered how long this regard was going to last.

  Bahabe was awestruck to witness all hands on deck for the restoration of Centrifuge. It was obvious to her that the Enkannites, and especially Centrifugans, had a high sense of responsibility for one another. Entire families were working in the wreckage left behind by the brief siege. Thanks to the concerted effort, hundreds of people had been rescued from damaged and collapsed buildings, and those without homes had been provided lodgings. There was certainly no shortage of space, with all these mighty towers standing practically empty.

  Her heart went out to those who had lost loved ones. She herself was floating in a place between loss and renewal, now knowing of her family that had passed and those who remained.

  The dead were still being collected and carted away to be buried, the undead to be burned. Rae had insisted that ogres, gremlins, and beastmen be given their own cemetery outside the City, so as not to stoke further fires between Nul and Enkann. Indeed, most of the dead were Nulian. This gesture in itself was a huge undertaking and much to the credit of those people who volunteered to see it through.

  The Anekan soldiers had remained in mixed ranks with their Enkannite cousins, and even many of the sarathi had stayed in the City to help, despite the discomfort they felt surrounded by walls.

  All told, just over a quarter of the City had seen some ill effect from the battle, including those places where fires were still burning.

  Now Bahabe walked at Rae’s side, away from the armored transport that had delivered them to the site of the Throne’s crash. Thousands of men and women had been set to the task of clearing as much of the space around the old ship as possible, and there was finally a safe approach for the Wizardess to inspect it.

  A few days prior, Rae had allowed Bahabe to heal her broken leg, so this day she was able to lead the girl back into the ship via the hatch she’d used to escape. Bahabe had insisted on accompanying the Wizardess, though it had been hard for her to leave Jon’s side.

  The nose of the Throne was buried in the ground, having broken through streets and walkways to plow into the soil underneath. The emergency hatch lay at midship, just forward of the area that had been blasted out by the engine’s catastrophic failure. The silence as they entered the ship was broken only by their steps, and the faint creak of still-settling metal.

  Their trek through the maze of the ship’s interior was long and dark, and Rae had to ignite one of her rings to light the way. As they neared the bridge they found that emergency lights still glowed, soft and red, to illuminate the halls.

  Rae strode straight to the captain’s chair and console, a throne unto itself, and sat in it, inspecting its controls.

  She glanced up at Bahabe. “I never had to use the controls. The ship always just responded to my voice.”

  “Wizardess,” came a voice, faint amid the crackle of damaged speakers. Rae started.

  “Ship?” she asked. “You are operational?”

  “You request a diagnostic?” the ship said.

  “Please,” said Rae, widening her eyes at Bahabe. She hadn’t expected this.

  “Ouch, in a word, Wizardess. Please wait, running diagnostic.”

  “It’s never spoken to me like that before,” Rae whispered as Bahabe came nearer.

  After a long moment, the ship’s voice spoke again.

  “Processing scaled down to 20% to conserve auxiliary power, high-level functions are suspended, routine processes may take extra time. Reactor one has a cracked enclosure but is operable. Reactors two through eight are fatally breached and inoperable. Shields non-functional. Nanite repair systems non-functional. Engines… error. Must be missing. Levitron and stabilizers non-functional. Replicators undamaged - operating at 5% efficiency on auxiliary power. …I can recover, but it will require time and assistance.”

  There was a silence, then, “You will help me, Wizardess?”

  Again Rae looked taken aback by the ship’s mode of speech.

  “Well, of course,” she said. “We’ve got crews cleaning up around the ship… around you. I’ll get you whatever you need.”

  “Thank you, Wizardess.”

  “I’m glad you survived.”

  “Me too, Wizardess. I… feel I should enable a lower-power state. Permission to reduce processing power to one percent? You will be able to address me via voice command when it becomes necessary.”

  “Permission granted,” Rae answered. The ship remained silent.

  “Well that was interesting,” Bahabe said as she helped Rae exit the emergency hatch.

  “I feel a fool, Bahabe,” the Wizardess said.

  “Why?” the girl asked.

  “For never having realized I was speaking with more than a machine. That ship is… is an entity.” Rae’s face was turned toward Bahabe, but her vision was elsewhere.

  “You think the ship is alive?” Bahabe said.

  “It felt some form of pain,” Rae said, “and it fears for its existence. There’s something in that.”

  “Alive… hmm,” Bahabe said.

  “It will be an interesting avenue of study,” Rae said. “We haven’t even got around to recreating these vehicles and structures on our own,” She gestured at the City around them as they approached their transport. “Much less minds to control them. Who knows what else we shall discover if we can wake the rest of the City?”

  “Is that something you’ve been working on?” Bahabe asked.

  Rae pursed her lips. “Not really. I only just realized it might be possible, when the ship spoke of its secondary power source. The City itself may have such a system in place, if we could just find it.”

  They reached their armored transport and got in. Rae gave their driver the orde
r to depart, and they began to wind back through the City toward the Keep.

  Bahabe studied the people working in streets and alleys, clearing debris from in front of the homes they would claim.

  “I still don’t understand why Nul keeps attacking. Is it just that their master is mad?” Bahabe asked.

  “It’s more,” said Rae. “They truly believe they deserve this place for their own, and every one of them was willing to fight for it. And though we have to defend ourselves, often with deadly force, we do well when we strive to see things from their perspective.”

  “What is their perspective?” Bahabe asked.

  “They are outcast, of course. For all the Enkannite’s patriotism and goodwill toward one another, you’ll notice there is not one ogre or gremlin among them. Not one has ever passed through the gate of Centrifuge in peace.”

  “They were left out there, forced past the borders,” Bahabe said.

  “Ripe pickings for the dark man,” Rae said. “It doesn’t excuse their crimes, but it gives them faces, doesn’t it?”

  Bahabe remembered Jon musing over the bloodlight memories of slain Nulians. A gremlin - Bahabe had forgotten her name - had been in love.

  “Maybe we can use that,” Bahabe said.

  “You have already begun,” Rae said. “You healed that ogre giant, saved his life. Jon spared him. He will not soon forget that, and the stories and rumors will spread. It could be that those acts of mercy will deal a harsher blow to Nul’s aggressions than any loss of life.”

  “They’ll have to be embraced, let in,” Bahabe said.

  “A tall order, one you’ll find even our kind-hearted people will resist. It will be a long road to trust from where we stand. I wouldn’t even bring it up in polite conversation until the City is back in some semblance of order.”

  “Just in whispers…” Bahabe mused.

  The transport stopped suddenly at a street corner, and Rae inquired as to why.

  “Messenger coming, my lady,” the driver said.

  Rae retracted her window as the messenger pulled aside the transport, hovering there on a zirah.

  “Wizardess, you said to bring news,” he said. Bahabe’s heart leaped in her chest. “Lord Jon Arc is awake,” he beamed.

  Bahabe had nearly closed the distance between them before Jon became aware and turned in his seat. He grinned widely as she attacked him with a fierce hug. Then she flinched and stood back, eyeing him.

  “How do you feel?” she asked. “I didn’t hurt you?”

  Jon pulled her back to him, face buried in her thick, dark curls of hair. “Anything but, Bahabe.” He felt the edges of his eyes moisten. She was okay. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

  Her face grew hot against his chest, faint patches of wet growing around her eyes.

  “Less and more,” she said. “You saw the sarathi?” Jon nodded into her hair. “I’m one of them… partial blood, at least.”

  “It was family you felt,” he said. She nodded into his chest. “Bahabe, that’s wonderful.”

  “My mother and father are gone, but pretty much everyone else was there, living in that little sarathi town. It was my grandmother that attracted them to the battle, and my aunt that brought the firebirds.”

  “I’m so glad for you, Bahabe,” Jon said. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you find them. I should have… we should have gone there first. I was being…”

  Bahabe lifted her head and shook it, dark eyes peering up at him. “All the time, we both had our own paths. You did the right thing, and so did I. We’re both alive, and now, together again.”

  Suddenly she seemed self-conscious and backed away a step, leaving a hand on Jon’s arm. She laughed quietly. “I hardly know what to do with myself now. The rush has faded.”

  “I know what you mean,” Jon said. “But the dark man is still out there, controlling Nul. They’ll think twice before attacking again, but now I’m a target. He’ll change his tactics.”

  “In the meantime, we prepare?”

  They sat together in the quiet garden, sharing their tales. Dam joined them eventually, coming back from a shift carting the dead. They sent a guard to locate Naphte, and the little party was reunited for the first time in weeks.

  Rae joined them as midday came around, and she ordered their lunch to be served outside. As they ate, they began to hear a loud rustling and a growing murmur from over the Keep’s walls. They all looked at each other. It sounded like an approaching mob.

  Rae summoned some guards and led the way to the Keep’s main doors. They stepped out onto the long ramp leading up to the Keep.

  A vast crowd of people had amassed on the great pavilion below. Rae’s soldiers were struggling to keep the people hemmed in, but they far outnumbered the guards on duty. They were not angry, but insistent, chanting:

  “Crown him! Crown him! Crown him!”

  A great cry went up from the people when Jon emerged from the Keep, interrupting their chant. It was a cry of jubilation, laden with the relief of survival, but its timbre hinted at a kind of desperation that piqued Jon’s nerves. The chant resumed, and Jon stood among his friends and guards, dumbfounded.

  He leaned over to Rae and whispered, “What do I do?” This was a far cry above merely being called ‘sir’.

  She seemed as surprised as he was, and perhaps a tad amused. “Depends on if you want to be king,” she said. “I cannot lie - I’ve been eager to find a suitable leader for some time now, as was my predecessor. But no one has ever shown the grit. Of course, this wasn’t how I envisioned it coming about. Yes, it would be nice to get back to wizarding full time…”

  “That doesn’t help,” Jon said. In no way had he sought this, nor did he think himself qualified.

  “Jon,” Bahabe said, leaning in. “You have to give them something. It’ll keep them going. It’s not like you have to accept this, especially right this minute. But they’ve been through a lot - it’ll mean something.”

  “But what…” Jon said, trailing off. He couldn’t think of anything better. He waved.

  The resulting cheer was deafening, and the chant to crown Jon grew to a fevered pitch.

  At length, Rae quieted her people and spoke briefly to calm them. She assured them that all avenues would be considered, that their feelings for the future of Enkann would be taken into account, that she herself was assessing Jon’s fitness to lead.

  All of this was true, Jon figured. She would have noted such things about him prior to this, while he trained in the weeks leading up to the siege. She may have already known the answer better than he himself.

  Why though? Why would the people of this City desire him as king? They’d had nearly two weeks to pass rumors and fresh legends, so was it just because of his power? Certainly that was all they knew about him. He was the man who’d single-handedly turned the tide in two major battles. Perhaps to them, he represented safety. He could protect himself against the dark man’s assassins, defend the country from Nulian raids. They might even hope there were other facets to his impressive power.

  But does that alone qualify me?

  It made no sense. He told this to Rae when their little group had returned to their table in the gardens to finish lunch.

  “You think you are unqualified,” Rae said. Jon agreed. “Well, who is, Jon?” Dahm was nodding silently. “What makes a man fit to be king?”

  She waited for his answer. He figured he might as well give his true thoughts.

  “Nothing,” he shrugged. “I was never one for being led by other people. Sure I can be polite and follow rules, but I never really looked up to anyone else to tell me what to do.”

  “Already the mark of a leader,” Rae said, smiling faintly.

  “I guess a real king should be generous, ready to do whatever it takes to ensure his people’s survival,” Jon said.

  “Not like Nak-sak,” Bahabe scoffed. “He’d take whatever he thought would ensure his own survival.”

  “My Zhamann always
said a ruler’s fitness lay not in his bloodline or his treasury, but in his aptitude for service,” Dam said.

  “And his willingness to really own the position,” Rae said. “Many people think they want riches and position, but they don’t know what to do with it when it comes. Don’t think I’m complimenting myself too much here,” she grinned, “but I’ve always thought a reluctant leader could be the best kind. She doesn’t seek glory or a dynasty, only to do the best she can in the time she’s given to lead.”

  “I don’t know, you guys,” Jon said. “I hear you, but I just don’t know…”

  Rae laughed, “No one wants an answer from you today, Jon. In fact, I might be concerned if you accepted too eagerly. Let the people calm themselves. Let a new rhythm be established. Let some time pass, and we will all consider these things together.”

  Once again, Jon thought, it would have to be enough.

  Chapter 22

  Emergency Power

  When he wasn’t helping with cleanup or rescue, using stone and metalcraft to build and repair shelters, or spending time in Rae’s library, Dahm had taken to exploring the Keep. Jon had gone up - Dahm was doing a comprehensive survey of all the ways to venture down.

  He’d only realized it after being in the City for an extended period of time, but there was an energy here, in the earth and air. He could feel it emanating upward from some point far below. Piecing together what Jon had learned of the dark man, and what Rae had studied concerning the City’s history, Dahm surmised that the energy he felt was what was responsible for holding the dark man on the planet. He wondered in passing why they wouldn’t just let the mysterious Nulian ‘god’ go and be free of him, but he supposed there was a reason, even if it was lost to the depths of time. Or perhaps letting him go was exactly what needed to be done.

  He had begun to think this energy was also responsible for the ease with which he’d been able to cross from his plane into this one. It had been the quickest and smallest portal his people had ever built.