Battle Across Worlds

by Dean Chalmers

  He sighed. “Maybe. Anyway, I won’t be around here for very much longer. On the island, I mean.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  He sighed again. “I got the commendation, but I lost my job as Constable. They want me to leave the island and work as a clerk on the mainland, in Ironbound. But my family’s near Ironbound, and I … well, I really don’t want to go back there. But no one’s allowed to stay here on the island without a registered job or business. The Stefanites are trying to keep too many people from having contact with the Dameryans, I guess.”

  Mother Henne looked puzzled. “But I thought you hated this damn island, hmm?”

  He nodded. “I do. I mean, I did. It’s just …” He bit his lip, not wanting to admit the truth, but knowing he’d look like an idiot if he didn’t give his reasons. “Things are happening here now. I don’t want to be left out, not knowing what’s really going on. Not anymore.”

  “Really?” she leaned forward, her eyes bulging out. In her excitement, she shoved the entire length of the long strip of jerky she’d been chewing into her mouth, and choked and coughed before shaking her head wildly to dislodge the meat, which she then spat onto the floor.

  “Uhh … You all right?” Ed asked.

  She waved her hand to show that she was fine. “Ack! But it’s just … Well, I don’t like these changes here. Can’t get used to it, I’m too old. Big nasty cockles falling out of the sky, pillars of light shooting up in the day and night, you know. What I’d really like is to go live with my sister in Seagirt. Pick crabs off the beach and sleep in the noontimes. In fact …” she leaned forward again, blinking down at Ed, “I might sell this place for a trifle to the right buyer. Maybe someone who’s just come into a decent bit of money?”

  “You’re talking about ME?” Ed gasped. “That’s a joke, right? I could never run a tavern—I hate drunk people.”

  She smiled and wriggled a finger at him. “Ah, Edwyn, you hate people in general. Just like me! But I made a go of it. When you’re the one who gives ‘em their ale, you can demand their respects, eh? Hell, I spend most of my time back here. Jinny and the others do most of it … hardly ever have to put a hand in. Ah, but I am getting ready to leave soon. Those crabs are calling me.”

  She took the paper out from under the ledger book and unfolded it.

  Ed slowly stood up and leaned over the table to get a better look. He saw that the paper was some kind of legal contract, with a bunch of lines for signatures at the bottom.

  “I’ll let it go for next to nothing,” Mother Henne said. “An insulting fee. Say, about eight hundred silver?”

  Eight hundred and twenty silvers had been his reward from the Protectorate. But how did she…?

  Still, it was an intriguing idea. Imagine … he could tell Jinny what to do. Price the ale how he’d like, decide who would or wouldn’t get served … Just sit back and count the money. With all the Dameryan gold coming this way, he might be able to retire to someplace nice in a year or so, and get Julea a big house with servants and a flower garden.

  But the purchase would take all of his remaining reward monies, and this was so sudden …

  “I need to think about it for a while,” he said.

  She shook her head. “I told you I can’t wait. I already mentioned the deal to Turnquist the Baker … He said he’d try to be over with the money as soon as he’s finished with the next lot of muffins. That would be …” she closed her eyes, pretending to think. ”Oh, any minute now.”

  “Rutting hell! All right … ” Ed scanned the contract. He wasn’t very familiar with such things, but it seemed straightforward enough. “This says that I get all the money coming in, all of the assets, right?”

  “All of it,” she said. She grabbed a pen from a nearby inkwell and held it out to him, smiling.

  As he looked at her weathered lips and rotting teeth, he couldn’t help but feel a vague sense of unease, some tingle of suspicion deep down inside.

  Of course, he didn’t trust people normally … But this was Mother Henne, his only friend for so long! Without her, he’d never have heard about the “demon” and met Julea and become her hero …

  “I’ll do it,” he said, motioning for the pen. He quickly signed on the blank marked “Purchaser,” and Mother Henne cackled with glee as she wrote her own name next to it in the appropriate space.

  This is for you, Julea, Ed thought. This is for us, for our future …

  -48-

  Bryttington on the Isle of Briars had been a holiday merry-making place for Garatayne’s aristocracy for hundreds of years, and had seen many grand celebrations—but the wedding of Ralley Quenn and Princess Taxamia Culcras outshone everything that had gone before.

  The Dameryans brought hundreds of feather-dressed dancers, trained lions, acrobats … and of course the flyers, already quite famous in Garatayne, which soared overhead and launched ambia bolts in brilliant arrays.

  There was also a Garataynian orchestra, an honor guard of Grenadiers, and enough food and drink to entertain an army for days.

  Yet, as the da’ta se stood high on a brightly-colored platform set up on the island bowling green, reciting their wedding vows in both languages, they knew that all of this pomp and ceremony was not for them—not really.

  The wedding was symbolic, a statement for their families and friends and the people of both worlds. They were already joined more closely than any two people ever had been, their fiery link burning brightly.

  So bright, indeed, that the individual flames of their souls were becoming one blaze, and their own identities were fading into the power that was called da’ta se.

  After the ceremony, they danced on an oak panel floor that had been set up under a giant flower-festooned veranda, surrounded by hundreds of other couples.

  Jack passed close by, wearing his scarlet uniform and accompanied by a beautiful Dameryan woman with long curly hair who wore an elegant violent gown in the style of a Garataynian lady.

  The Dragoon smiled and raised his hat to the da’ta se, beaming with pride.

  There were many others to greet and smile at, guests from both worlds. Whenever Ralley recognized someone, he had to pause for a moment to ponder if he knew the person from his own memory, or from Taxamia’s.

  As they danced, he whispered to her:

  “My family and yours, my world and yours … hardly a difference anymore. They all belong to both of us now, and yet …”

  She nodded. “I miss the little laughs and sighs.” She turned her head to indicate the other couples all around them. “Our fire burns hot, but … “

  “But the rest is not for us, not anymore. The little emotions are eclipsed. Only strength, passion—the link.”

  She looked to him then, her eyes wide and wet, and for a second she was only Princess Taxamia again, the gentle girl she had been before her every thought and memory became known to him, before the reaction chamber on Lanaya’s great ship had stoked their fire.

  “Do you ever regret coming for me?” she asked. “Do you regret losing yourself?”

  “No.” He smiled. “How could I? That love is still there. Can’t you see in my mind, how beautiful I think you are, how much I want to—“

  But she did see, and she was leaning forward to meet his kiss before the words left his mouth.

  When they kissed and embraced tightly, the crowd clapped and roared their applause.

  The da’ta se looked up, smiling and waving, and the celebration went on …

  They were greeting a long line of Garataynian Protectorate officials and their wives when Taxamia’s kingly father approached with his guards and beckoned them aside.

  “Children! There is someone here who wishes to congratulate you,” the Phaedon said, and winked.

  “Who?” Taxamia asked. But then she saw the short bald man easing his way through the crowd, limping slightly as he came, an ivory cane in his right hand.

  “Jarlus!” they exclaimed together.

  Step
ping up to them, the Xai Ashaon smiled. “I feel derelict in my duties, as I promised to keep you in my sight.”

  “Your leg?” Ralley asked. Though Jarlus leaned on his cane, he was standing on two legs. Ralley tried to get a glimpse of the right limb, but it was hidden under the cloth of his loose-fitting linen trousers.

  “A present,” Jarlus sighed, rolling his eyes. “From the Order of Kion, damn it all.”

  He reached down and pulled up the cloth to reveal a right leg that was made of intricately bundle silver cord, with iron plates at the knees and shin. “Behold the wonders of aon science.”

  “You can walk on it?” Taxamia asked.

  He nodded. “Yes. It’s still a bit cumbersome, but our dear Master Gaelti says I’ll adapt. It will never have the feeling of a real limb, but it’s aligned to my aona or some nonsense, so it should obey my will well enough.”

  “We heard that you’re watching Gaelti,” Ralley said. “That you have access to the Order of Kion?”

  Jarlus smiled broadly now. “Yes … Now that his Kraelon nature is revealed, Phaedon wanted someone trustworthy to keep an eye on him and the goings-on in the Order of Kion. The red-eyed bastard is not pleased, but I think he realizes that he’ll need to learn to cooperate with my Xa Ashaon.”

  “But,” he continued, “I did not come here to speak only of such matters. This is your wedding day, and I wanted to wish you well.”

  He looked at Taxamia, touched her silk-clad arm, then gazed into her eyes … Eyes which were now emerald green, and no longer the shade of her birth. “How long I have watched over you, like a daughter of my own. The shy, delicate Princess, flower of her house.”

  There was something very sad in his voice, a funereal tone of loss.

  “I’m still here,” Taxamia said. “I may have changed, but I am here.”

  He waved his arm in front of his face. “Bah. I’m being silly,” he said. “And worrisome. That’s what marriage is about, isn’t it? The joining of two to become a new, powerful unit? And we all must make sacrifices for the future,” he added, tapping his metallic leg.

  “You’re not just talking about the wedding now,” Ralley said.

  “I’m not?” Jarlus shook his head. “Well, let’s forget about that. Just know that you have my best wishes. And now, I think I should go and have a cup of wine.”

  They both smiled at him, and he bowed. “Life and health, da’ta se,” he said. “I will continue to serve.”

  #

  The wedding festivities continued into the evening. Shortly after sundown, Jack pulled Tesha aside and led her through the throng to the stable near the green where Ermaline was waiting.

  He kissed the horse’s nose and cooed to her and Tesha seemed amused, though she shook her head and rolled her eyes.

  Jack saddled the mare, then helped Tesha up onto her back. Holding the bridle, he guided the horse north towards town. The road was busy with people and their way was lit by the flashes of white fire, ambia, which flared continuously from the direction of what had once been called the “faerie mound,” where the Key of Oberkion was now working day and night, transferring men and goods to and from Damerya.

  Jack was distracted for a moment, watching the pillar of light flash. Had it really been only a few months before that he’d first seen that blazing energy in the sky?

  “Yan xathae den ka?” Tesha asked.

  Jack had been trying to learn as much of the Dameryan tongue as he could.

  After all, he couldn’t always hope to have Ralley or the Princess around to translate … and someday soon he hoped to be able to really talk to Tesha.

  There were many, many things he’d be willing to learn and do in order to stay close to her.

  He couldn’t understand her every word, but he picked out “where” and “go.” She was asking about their destination.

  “Just taking you on a ride into town, Miss,” he said. “Don’t worry. I’ll have you back in plenty of time to get some sleep and still be up early to tend to your aon cells.”

  Tesha was going to be around for a while; she’d been selected as one of the group of technicians who would service the flyers at the training site on the Isle.

  She’d agreed to wear the silk Garataynian gown Jack had bought for her as part of her effort to adapt to her new surroundings … and Jack was glad. She looked ravishing in the low-cut dress, the violet color perfectly setting off her raven hair and yellow-brown skin.

  Traffic thickened as they approached the town, where the dirt road turned to cobblestones.

  The main street was so packed with people that it was nearly impossible to move. Somehow, Jack got Ermaline tucked away inside the stable near Mother Henne’s, and then guided Tesha behind him through the crowd and into the tavern.

  He wanted to stop in for a moment to see what Sarde and Mullet were up to—and to let Tesha sample the famous house ale.

  Former Constable Ed Bocke was behind the serving bar, his face a livid red and his dark hair plastered to his forehead with sweat.

  Jack waved to him and approached. “Mister Bocke, might you have a couple mugs sent over to us in a moment?”

  Bocke scowled at him. “A moment? Everyone is so rutting impatient! Hell, it’s just the two of us working here.”

  “You mean your wife and yourself?” Jack asked. “But where’s Jinny and—“

  “Gone!” Bocke hissed. “Mother Henne owed them back wages, and she left me a load of debt connected to this hellhole. Three thousand owed!”

  Jack nodded in sympathy. He’d heard that poor Bocke had been rather exploited in the deal. But then, who would sign a contract these days without legal advice?

  “Stop looking so smug, dammit,” Bocke said.

  “Edwyn!” came a girlish voice. It was Bocke’s pretty young wife, Julea.

  Though tired-eyed and sweating herself, she smiled at her husband. After setting down an armful of empty mugs on the counter, she kissed his cheek.

  “It will be okay, Edwyn,” she said. “Everyone’s just so happy because of the wedding.”

  Bocke’s face relaxed when she spoke, and he reached up and patted her cheek. “All right,” he told Jack with a sigh. “We’ll get your drinks soon.”

  Jack turned and scanned the room for familiar faces. Sarde and Mullet sat at one end of a packed table in the corner, downing ale in continuous swallows.

  Both former Dragoons now wore leather Dameryan jackets and silk scarves—like Jack, they were now officially part of the Phaedon’s flying squad. Jack had thought they might make excellent pilots, and a request to Ralley had brought a prompt command from Phaedon that they should be inducted into the squad.

  Sarde was quickly mastering the Hummingbird flyer’s controls, and Mullet was a bit behind … but it was good to be giving them actual orders again, good to have his friends serving at his side.

  “Cap’n!” Sarde shouted, waving Jack over.

  Mullet smiled when he saw Tesha. The hard-drinking soldier was so stunned by her beauty that he actually set his mug down on the table for a moment while he looked at her. “Captain, this is the pretty one we’ve heard so much about? Well, she is worth a look or two.”

  Jack raised a warning finger. “Sergeant, please …”

  “All I’m saying is, for a girl to replace all others in your affections, she’d have to be a piece of work. And indeed she is, as we see!”

  He was staring a bit too hard now at the low-cut bodice of Tesha’s dress. Seeing her discomfort, Jack leaned over and grabbed Mullet’s chin, adjusting his head—and his gaze—upward.

  “Is this what happens as soon as you take off the Dragoon scarlet?” Jack sighed. “Start forgetting your manners in front of ladies?”

  Mullet shook his head, denying the accusation.

  Then, to make amends, he rose from his chair and offered it to Tesha, who sat down with polite nod of thanks to him. Her mouth was a taut line, and Jack knew she was uncomfortable—but she was handling this with grace. He wouldn�
�t keep her here long, at any rate.

  “Cap’n—we only took off the old uniforms because we’re proud of being flyer pilots and all,” Sarde said. “This is what the Dameryans wear, as you know … Ol’ Captain Neron never goes anywhere without his scarf.”

  “Well,” Jack said, “As for myself, I thought I’d try being a Dragoon for one more day. Tomorrow I have to put the scarlet coat away as well, so as not to antagonize our newest students.”

  Though he was still quite undecided about his plumed hat … the thought of parting with it chilled his heart, and he thought he might keep wearing it as a token to the past.

  “Students?” Sarde asked.

  Jack nodded towards a group of young Grenadiers who were playing a dice game at a table on the other side of the common room. “Those students—the ones in rust brown livery.”

  “We’re training them, Cap’n?” Sarde asked, his jaw dropping. “Since when do we train the Lord Protector’s lap dog—“

  “Since now,” Jack said. “Our services are on loan to Damerya and the Phaedon has promised the Lord Protector that his Grenadiers will be trained to fly. And who better to train them than someone who already speaks their language?”

  “But Captain!” Mullet blinked rapidly, looking alarmed. “It don’t mean you have to make it easy for them, do you?”

  Jack smiled, and winked. “No, I don’t suppose that I do, do I?”

  Jack stood behind the seated Tesha, his hand over hers.

  She was very calm, considering the chaos around them …

  At one table, two Dameryan noblemen were engaged in a raucous drinking game with two periwig-wearing Garataynian aristocrats; Bocke brought them another tray of ales, swearing all the while.

  In another corner, a merchant and his wife danced to the beat of tiny-brass finger-cymbals played by a Dameryan courtesan, while two local sailors played with a wooden toy flyer, tossing it back and forth through the air.

  “This town is really coming alive again,” Sarde observed. “Looking at them aristocrats over there, you’d almost think the queen had come back. Some of them are saying that they’re going to get rich again, that the exile’s got to end. You think things will really change for the better, Cap’n?”