by C H Duryea
“Are they in the same climbs where your men disappeared?”
“All over.”
“How do you know it wasn’t the dragons that got your men?”
Scar glared at Zeke. “My soldiers can handle dragons,” he said. “The prince's mage can control them with theurgy. The enemy is a different matter entirely.”
Zeke recalled the ferocity of the two dragons that almost made lunch of them, and wished that mage had been on hand for that. The idea that the Tozzk ground forces were worse—
His gaze returned to the spiny peaks.
“So you think they’re massing for some kind of sneak attack?” Zeke asked.
“No other reason to be up there.”
“Not exactly out of their playbook, is it?”
“Playbook?”
“Sorry. Doesn’t it seem inconsistent with their usual brute force, full-frontal style of attack?”
“You think they got some other business up there?” Scar asked. “What else would they be doing?”
Zeke eyed the peaks one more time, feeling uneasy.
“I don’t know,” he admitted.
They traced their way down a long chain of switchbacks that led to the valley floor and to a well-worn road that wound its way along the river running through the middle of the plain. Soon the caravan was skirting the water’s edge, and they were heading towards the settled end of the valley that Zeke had seen from the ship just before they crashed.
He rode beside Vibeke, who had been uncharacteristically quiet since they left camp.
“As someone who spends most of his life lost inside his own head,” he said, “I’ve become something of an expert at recognizing the same in other people. What’s going on?”
“You could have just said ‘penny for your thoughts.’”
“I thought I did. More or less.”
“Definitely more.”
“Fair enough. So what’s eating you?”
“This place,” she said. “I’m just not booted for this environment. Chuck over there is eating it up like it’s one of his game worlds.”
“Which it practically is.”
“And Augie and Narissa are both still freaked by what happened to her yesterday, with good reason. You’ve just escaped into your head and all your questions about where we are and what the Tozzk are up to. But I’m a fish out of water.”
“Why? How’s this so different from the Renaissance Fair?”
“Are you kidding me? At the Ren Fair, I could get in my car and drive home at the end of the day. Do you see a parking lot around here? No? That’s because there isn’t one!”
“You seemed to enjoy the sword lesson.”
“It was good for blowing off steam.” She looked around, up towards the settled areas ahead. “Be honest. Do you really think we’re gonna find something here that will get the ship back online?”
“I had a choice between exploring the possibility and being dragon kibble.”
“Answer the question.”
“I’m keeping hope alive.”
“‘Cause I don’t think I could handle it if we were stuck here.”
“Don’t worry, Vee,” he said. “If I have to fly a kite into a lightning storm, I’ll figure a way to power up the NeuralNav for you.”
Vibeke shot Zeke a hard glare. And when hurt began to cloud over her anger, she looked away.
“Gosh, Travers,” she said quietly. “You really know how to make a girl feel better.”
Once again, Zeke knew he had stepped in it.
“I didn’t—”
“You didn’t, all right!” she snapped. “Leave me alone.” She rode ahead, leaving him behind.
Augie and Narissa’s wagon pulled up beside him, and they rode together in silence for a while.
“You recently asked me for relationship advice,” Augie said at last. “You want some now?”
“Too late,” Zeke said.
They rode well into the late afternoon. Their shadows lengthened as the sun sank closer to the high ridges to the west. The walls of the valley shortened and converged at the point where the river’s headwaters rushed from the highlands. Around that cascade, the Inverkethi settlement sprouted up and spread out. The road became more thickly traveled, and the locals gave the prince’s army a wide berth and quiet attention as they passed. As Qaant Yke walked by, many of the sightseers ran for cover. As they passed into the outskirts of the settlement, Feldspar rode up and fell in next to Zeke.
“This is Lankshale,” he explained. “It supports the trade routes through this province.”
“This isn’t your capital?” Zeke asked.
“No. Inverketh City is another three days’ ride to the north. But we will be stopping here. To see to the defense of this valley, and so that you and your people can go before my aunt.”
“Your aunt?”
“Her Regency, Lady Mica. She has ruled Inverketh since the death of her father, the king.”
“What’s she doing so far from the capital?”
“She is here fulfilling a—religious obligation. There is a temple here that draws its share of pilgrims. My aunt is one of them.”
“And you are not?”
“Her Regency and I do not see eye to eye on much. I’ve never been to this temple of hers. I’m a heathen in her eyes.”
“Do her religious practices include being welcoming and charitable to strangers?”
“It depends entirely on the stranger,” Feldspar admitted. “I must warn you, Traverser. Our recent adversities have made my aunt exceedingly cautious with her hospitality, and extremely miserly with her trust.”
“I’m hoping to enlist her help if I can.”
“You will have to earn it,” the prince said. “Just the same, I have sent Sergeant Scoria ahead to inform her of your presence and your predicament. He will strive to plead your case.”
Zeke needed a moment to process that. “Scoria? You mean Scar? You sent Scar to advocate for us?”
The prince nodded and shrugged. “Granted, he is not my most eloquent emissary. But his reputation has weight in the court. My mage went ahead as well, but that may or may not be to your benefit.”
“Why?” Zeke asked. “What’s wrong with your mage?”
“Nothing. He is among the most gifted in Inverketh.”
“Scar says your mage can control the dragons.”
Feldspar cast Zeke a sidelong glance, then smiled wryly. “It is a common skill among mages. Hardly remarkable.”
The mage had also apparently been familiar with high-tech weaponry. Zeke wondered how common that was.
“It is not his power or skill that is the issue,” the prince said. “The problem is with Her Regency. You see, her father, my grandfather, was assassinated by agents of our enemy—using sorcery.”
“Sorcery?” Zeke asked. “Magic?” There went that word again.
“Mica has of late learned a bitter disdain for magic wielders. Even the ones in her own service.”
“The Tozzk use magic?” Without thinking, Zeke touched the vambrace hidden under his sleeve.
“Pay heed, Traverser,” Feldspar said. “The lady regent may revile our native sorcery, but her faith in our legends is strong. As it happens, this fact is relevant to our present conflict. My aunt may be devout, but she is canny as well. Do try to be forthcoming with her, as she is likely to see through any dissembling.”
Zeke pulled his focus off the implications of magic-wielding Tozzks. “What,” he asked, “would we have to lie to her about?”
The prince did not answer directly. “Hopefully nothing,” he said. “For all your sakes.”
The outbuildings became denser as they approached Lankshale proper. Smiths and merchants’ shops lined the main road, and when Zeke peeked into the occasional back alley, he caught glimpses of the occasional tavern or brothel. Beyond the main drag, the ancillary ways were lined with loose neighborhoods of wood framed wattle and daub houses. Inner Lankshale was surrounded by a tall stone wall, ri
mmed with crenelated ramparts. The wooden gates were open, but their thickness and height suggested that Lankshale had faced dangers in it’s past. Most of the prince’s caravan veered off at various points on the approach until only the prince and his inner circle went forward to the open gates, Zeke and the others following a respectful distance back. Although Zeke wasn’t sure if he really lagged behind out of respect, or from a healthy desire to make a quick getaway if the situation got dicey.
A line of horsemen was waiting for them as they approached the gate. At the center of the line, Scar—Sergeant Scoria—waited with an expression that Zeke found frustratingly noncommittal.
“Your Highness,” he said as they rode up.
Feldspar stopped and the two men stared at each other for a moment.
“How’s the weather in Lankshale?” the prince asked.
“It’s been better,” Scar said. “For what it’s worth, she wants to meet the newcomers. Come on—Her Regency awaits.”
Scar and his entourage turned and escorted the prince’s party past the gates. Inside, Lankshale was definitely more upscale. Sturdy stone structures alongside more expertly crafted wooden buildings. A more affluent class of merchants.
“Still smells like horse manure,” Vibeke commented.
The main boulevard was wide and cobblestone, and it cut straight through town until it was occluded by the shifting mists at the base of the waterfall that towered over the scene. They soon came to a large circular plaza with an ornately statued central fountain, and from which several side boulevards radiated out in various directions. One wide avenue stretched up a gradual slope and ended at a large columned structure that struck Zeke as vaguely Grecian.
“That’s the temple,” Harbinger said under his breath, riding up beside Zeke. He looked a little freaked.
“Temple to what?” Zeke asked.
“It depends.”
“Depends on what?”
Harbinger glanced around to make sure no one was listening. “It depends on who’s running the game.”
“The Heisenberg corollary?”
“I’m telling you, boss. I have the map to this town on my kitchen table back home.”
“You really think this place is some analogue of one of your gaming worlds?”
“It’s way too close to be accidental.”
“How close? Close enough to know who these people are?”
“I can’t be completely certain. There’s always a turncoat in the cast of non-player characters—someone who isn’t what they appear. But the prince is usually some kind of paladin. Lawful good, so we can safely trust him. This regent though will be either chaotic neutral or lawful evil. She could be very dangerous.”
“That’s what Feldspar told me. What about our captain of the guard up there?”
“Scar? He’s a sergeant, not a captain. True neutral. He’s loyal to the Crown because he’s well-paid to be. And for the moment, they’re still on the winning side. But if the Tozzk get the upper hand here, he’ll probably start thinking more about himself.”
“You couldn’t have come up with a better nickname?”
“Scar’s a perfectly valid name for an NPC.”
“You don’t think it’s a little—cliche?”
“When you game as much as we do, you end up recycling a lot of material. That includes characters.”
“So you must know what’s up in the temple.”
“It’s usually something valuable. Some source of information or an important artifact. Depends on the game master.”
“The game master,” Zeke echoed. He pointed up the avenue that cut up in the opposite direction from the one heading to the temple. Another grand structure rose from the end of it. “And there?”
“That’s the castle,” Harbinger explained. “That’s where we’re going. Haven’t you ever gamed before?”
“I was too busy living my life.”
“Shut up.”
Harbinger was right: the procession veered to the left from the plaza and started to climb the side avenue up towards the castle. The sharp sounds of the horses’ hooves echoed off the stone faces of the increasingly large buildings that lined the entrance to the castle gate. As they came nearer, Zeke saw a host of guards lining the battlements that topped the palace’s defensive wall.
“This place seems pretty well defended,” Zeke said. “Better than I would have expected, given the prince’s haste to get back here.”
“You do not know the Tozzk as we do,” Feldspar called over his shoulder.
“We know them well enough.”
A host of additional guards met them and escorted them into the outer court. Here they dismounted and the horses were led off to the stables. From there they were escorted on foot past the inner gates and into a wide inner courtyard lined with ambulatories all around and surrounding balconies above.
The balconies and ambulatories were full of people. The quiet hush of many conversations dwindled to near silence when Zeke and the others were escorted inside. The crowd distracted Zeke, and it took him a few moments to notice that directly in front of them, a large pit lined with iron spikes sank into the center of the inner courtyard.
From inside that depression, something was growling.
“Uh oh,” Harbinger whispered. “That’s not good.”
“What?” Zeke whispered back. “What’s not good?”
He didn’t get a chance to answer. A circle of armed men quietly closed in and surrounded the group.
“Some welcoming committee,” Vibeke said.
“These people are my guests,” Feldspar said. “They are here at Her Regency’s request.”
“Beggin’ your pardon, Highness,” one of the soldiers said. “But we’re gonna need you to step aside.”
“On whose authority?” the prince demanded.
“On mine.”
The voice carried over the noise of the crowd. It was a small voice, but it commanded attention. It commanded silence.
On the other side of the pit, the crowd parted and a group of figures came around the fencing and into view. An entourage of guards and courtiers approached, led by a dark-featured woman, opulently dressed in green and gold. She was small but radiated an aura of authority. Her onyx eyes scanned the newcomers, but initially, they betrayed no reaction. Zeke recognized Feldspar’s mage among the retinue.
“Aunty,” Feldspar said.
“Nephew,” Lady Mica replied. “I sent you to the eastern climbs, at your insistence, I might add, to investigate rumors of enemy incursion, not to befriend the first group of motleys that crossed your path.” She looked up at Qaant Yke and her eyes narrowed. “What is this?”
“We discovered evidence of enemy activity in the east,” Felspar explained. “But then we encountered these strangers. At first, we took this creature to be a demon, and its companions to be agents of the enemy, but the truth, as you’ll see, is singularly more startling.”
Mica fixed her gaze on the prince. “I shall be the arbiter of that,” she said. “You can go, Feldspar. I will send for you later.”
“But, Your Lady—”
“Go.”
Feldspar clenched his fists but held his tongue. He glanced at Zeke and gave him a faint apologetic shrug, then he turned and stalked away, the crowd rippling out in front of him as he walked. Zeke watched him cross to the ambulatory and take a set of steps up to the balcony, making his way to one of the upper entrances to the main keep. He passed the silhouettes of four hooded figures watching from the balustrade. Zeke couldn’t see their faces. As Feldspar walked by, they turned and followed him into the keep.
“Which one of you is the sorceress?” Mica called out, snapping Zeke’s attention back to the crisis at hand. The regent slowly approached the group, closing in on the two women. She stopped in front of Vibeke first, stepping up close and looking up into her face, her brows knit. Vibeke seemed poised for a sassy remark, but Zeke was relieved that she kept silent.
“You,” Mica said, “hav
e the stink of battle on you. You’re no mage.”
She moved to the side and came toe-to-toe with Narissa. Narissa stared back at her with equal parts trepidation and disbelief.
“So then it’s you,” Mica went on, her voice quiet. “You assaulted my men.”
“I meant only to protect my companions,” Narissa said, her voice shaking just a bit. “I intended no harm.”
“We will learn what you meant,” the regent replied, “when you answer for your actions and those of your companions.”
“Hey, now wait just one damn minute—” Augie expostulated, moving to put himself between Mica and his wife.
Two soldiers stepped in and placed their sword points at Augie’s neck, freezing him in his tracks.
“Stand down, old man,” one of them ordered.
“You seek to stand for your companions then?” Mica asked.
“You betcha,” Augie spat. “I’ll take on any one of you who tries to lay a hand on—”
“I do,” Zeke said. But his voice caught, and the only one who heard him was Vibeke. She turned an alarmed glance his way. “I do!” he called again. This time he was heard. The commotion halted and all eyes turned to him. Mica regarded him for a long, careful moment.
“And who are you?” she asked in a guarded tone.
Zeke took a deep breath and committed himself. “They call me the Traverser.”
“And you are the leader of these people?”
He had never thought of himself as the leader of their group. He had brought them together as scientists. The idea of leading them would never have occurred to him—especially outside the lab. He glanced at the others. They looked back at him expectantly, the way he had seen many times before when waiting for him to make a decision about some new development in their research. But now they were about as far outside the lab as it was possible to get, in circumstances none of them could have predicted. But the barely discernible nod from Augie was enough for Zeke to know what he had to do.
“I am,” he declared.
“Good,” Mica said. “Now that we have that resolved, we have a champion.”
“A what?” Zeke asked.
A swell of excitement sounded through the crowd. As two strong-armed soldiers closed in on him, another deep growl issued from inside the fenced-off pit.