“Oh, I know. You, too.”
And because Epik was pretty sure this would be the last time he would ever see—er, not see—Buster, he added, “You’ve been a great equine. The very best. Good luck!”
He patted the pony one last time. Then Epik strode into the castle, his head high, but still, of course, half the height of anyone he met—which, oddly, wasn’t many people at all.
The castle had lost most of its luster since Epik’s last visit—and most of its servants, too. There were no guards prowling the hallways. Epik didn’t need to guess where to look for the Grand Sovereign, Catarina, and Kavya. He found them in the king’s parlor. None of them looked surprised to see him—not even Kavya.
“Epik!” she cried. “I told you not to—”
“That’s enough,” said the Grand Sovereign. “Our guest of honor has finally arrived. Please, Grandson, come join us by the fire.”
In his mind’s eye, the Grand Sovereign still was very much the younger gentleman they’d first met in King’s Way. But the man before Epik now bore little resemblance. He was old and decrepit. He concealed his hideous appearance under the hood of a cloak, and hid was undoubtedly the wrong word because the Grand Sovereign didn’t hide it well at all.
“It’s been a while, Grandson—your power has grown. I could feel the presence of your magic for the last few hours.”
“But my training’s incomplete,” Epik confessed.
“And there’s no time to complete it, I’m afraid... How sad…”
Epik didn’t miss Catarina’s smirk. Her yellow eyes hadn’t looked away from him. Her twisted knife was held tightly in a balled fist. She was close to Kavya—too close.
“I tried to warn you,” Epik whispered. He drank in the sight of Kavya’s beautiful face, the girl he’d fallen in love with—love they’d found here in this castle. “I knew she couldn’t be trusted…”
“I—” Kavya faltered. “She’s my sister, Epik. I had to know. You understand?”
“I don’t,” Epik snarled. “I feel foolish just being here. I think maybe I’ve made a mistake.”
“A huge one,” the Grand Sovereign agreed.
The old man is probably right, Epik sent his thoughts to Kavya. I’m not ready for this. I don’t know why I thought I was.
Kavya smiled weakly, then he heard her voice say, Because you are ready.
“This is how it will work this time,” the Grand Sovereign boomed. “No games. No chances to escape. You will give me your magic. And in return, I won’t kill what you love. How does that sound?”
“Like a lie.”
“See, that’s what I like about you—you aren’t like the typical hero. You aren’t even like my son who would rather speak in riddles. You’re smarter. And you’re right.”
“This is my offer,” the Grand Sovereign corrected. “You give me your magic, and I won’t torture her for hers. I’ll grant you both a merciful death. I’ll need all three of your powers to go up against my son.”
Catarina didn’t say a word, but her grip on the knife slackened, then got tighter than before. Her knuckles went white. “That wasn’t—”
“It was always part of our contract. You remember? The one you signed with your own blood.”
Catarina nodded subserviently. Then her yellow eyes rested on her sister. For a moment, Epik could swear there was love in them.
The doors of the parlor burst open, and a chubby man with balding white hair and roundish spectacles barged into the room. He was already in mid-sentence—if they were truly sentences.
“It it it is all la-la-loaded as you re-requested, sire,” he stuttered. He pointed at the massive windows across the room. A shaft of pale moonlight pierced the gloom, and as the shroud that hung over the city parted, Epik made out the sharp white sails of a massive galleon.
“Yes, thank you, brother.” Despite neither Epik nor Kavya batting an eye at this, the Grand Sovereign went on, “I don’t believe you’ve ever met my brother—well, my, uh, half-brother.”
The man’s face was familiar. Epik had seen him at one of the nightly feasts during the Harvest Festival. Besides, Epik knew exactly who he was.
“Doland is a sort of man behind the curtain if you will. You didn’t think I actually rounded up the children myself, now, did you? You see, it was Doland here who gave me that idea. Well, sort of…”
Is he monologuing? Epik asked Kavya.
I think so. Do you have a plan?
Not a good one.
Vanish! Kavya thought.
And leave your sister?
Kavya shrugged innocently.
No, Epik responded, I’m done with that. It ends here. Or it doesn’t…
“I usually prefer Doland stays put,” the Grand Sovereign rambled, “but The Times They are a Changing. I can no longer afford to employ my brother. The time has come to restore the sovereignty of my chosen name.”
There was something a bit off about Doland, and not just his speech. It showed in his complete indifference to the Grand Sovereign’s ominous words.
Epik couldn’t help but see the resemblance to Eddis. And it wasn’t just his age or his white hair but his mannerisms and the smoke stains on his clothes—the grease under his fingernails. Doland was a bit fatter than the lanky tech mage Epik had left back at the cottage. Doland had bulbous round eyes magnified at the bottom of his spectacles. His nose was larger than most, and he had extra skin that dangled from his chin like a snood.
“Ba-ba-ba back?” he questioned.
“Brother,” the Grand Sovereign put his hands on his brother’s shoulders, “you knew the time would come when I’d need all the power—even yours.”
Doland squirmed uncomfortably at his brother’s touch.
“You said the recruits got loaded into the carrier, yes?”
“They-they-they did. Sa-sa-some time ago. Sa-some didn’t make it.”
“No matter.”
Doland squinted hard—it looked painful, and he asked, “Are-are youuu sure ah-bout this? What of my life’s work?”
“Your life’s work? This is your life’s work. This is the culmination of those silly books you wrote. Did you know, that one,” he jerked his chin at the halfling, “has actually read them?”
“You-you-you did?”
Epik nodded. “Most of the first two.”
Doland’s smile was as halting as his speech but it was genuine.
“You mean you haven’t?” Epik asked the Grand Sovereign.
“Just the notes,” he said dismissively. “And who needs a book when you have the source?”
But Epik was pretty sure Doland wasn’t actually the source. Had he not heard the witches’ story, the old man’s faint smile would’ve given it away. Todder’s gran had been the source—or most of it.
“Yes, I think it’s time I take over,” the Grand Sovereign said. He closed his eyes, and they turned black as night.
“I-I-I ga-guess you’re right.” Doland looked sad. “It-it-it was nice meeting you-you all.”
He disappeared.
The tech mage’s soiled clothes crumpled to the floor, empty.
“He was always a pushover. Never did know how to stand up for himself,” the Grand Sovereign said coldly.
36
The Crew of the Phoenix
With Epik gone and the realization the Grand Sovereign’s scheme was close at hand, the crew and Millie worked triply hard to ready the ship for the air. They worked well into the night.
While Todder, Gerdy, and Myra worked with the witches to hone in their magical skills, Brendan and Eddis spent the night with Dora upstairs. The witch had found an old book to aid in their plight.
“I think this should do it,” said Dora. She touched Eddis’s hand. “Go ahead, put your other hand on the contraption you made. Perform your magic.”
He nodded and picked up a screwdriver. “I, uh, I usually do it this way.”
Eddis touched the screwdriver to the child-sized steel box they’d engineered over the
course of the evening. It was mostly a simple steel box with a trapdoor. The part that wasn’t a simple box was a bit of magic the old man called vacuum magic that pulled the wraith inside. It was this last part though, the key to it all, where Dora’s magic would filter through Eddis and close the trap.
Brendan’s idea was to attach the trap to the main steam engine—the one with the largest propeller at the rear of the ship. And with any luck, if Brendan’s theory held, the wraiths would try to utilize the steam power for their own energy—only to be trapped and restored to their original selves.
Or that was the hope, to use the same magic that returned Ursa to one of the living. Brendan’s newest crew-woman had taken over duty on the crow’s nest after Amber’s promotion.
Eddis closed his eyes. Dora did the same. And to a casual observer it would seem nothing had happened.
Something had happened.
“There’s no way to test, is there?” Eddis asked.
“There’s one way,” Brendan said grimly.
“I was afraid you’d say that…”
Brendan understood the man’s fear of battle—more so than most. Though Brendan had shared in many victories, they’d all come at a cost.
“Trace,” Brendan called. “How fast can you travel across the realm?”
Trace leapt nimbly over the shadow of a candlestick. “I haven’t really tried to—”
“Fast,” Dora cut in. “Faster than a blink if he tries.”
“Great news! I need King Epiman in on this plan. Tell him all that’s transpired here. And if he can spare them, we could use the remaining airships.”
“Yes, sir!” The shadow saluted and was gone.
Eddis began to say something but Brendan cut him off. “Diversions. One ship against all those wraiths, even with this,” he patted the contraption, “well, we’d be caught a trap of our own making. They could destroy us.”
“And if the wraiths destroy the other ships?”
“We’ll just hope it doesn’t come to that. King Epiman will come up with something.”
Brendan got up, took one side of the trap, and waited for Eddis to do the same. “So, I guess this just leaves the one thing…”
“Which is?” Dora asked.
Eddis, too, looked at him curiously.
“To see if the old girl… er, rather, the new girl, will fly.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Eddis lifted the other side of the trap, “did you ever think of a name for her?”
“I sure did.” Brendan smiled.
Downstairs, the cuckoo struck midnight, but no one was sleeping in the old cottage house. Two witches sat with the girls at the table while Todder took a turn in the isolation chamber. That is, the cupboard.
“What’d’ya say I was supposed to be doin’ again?” he called from inside.
“Bless his heart,” Schmilda despaired. “Rainbow really did a number on him, didn’t she?”
“Aye, that she did.” Begonia sipped her coffee.
“How about you lot?” Schmilda turned to Gerdy and Myra. “Why don’t you try letting go of your emotion and finding the magic inside?”
“I’ve already found it,” Gerdy said. Even though she was sure it was almost gone-no thanks to the Grand Sovereign.
The night hadn’t turned out the way Gerdy had hoped—Kavya had already headed in the other direction. And just as Gerdy and Myra left the castle, Epik was on his way after her.
Gerdy had hoped for a few days rest—maybe months, maybe years before facing that old man again, but now she was expected to learn to use her magic by tomorrow and face him in a showdown.
“Actually, I was talking to Myra here,” Schmilda said.
“Me? Oh, I don’t have magic.”
Both the witches chuckled.
“Don’t ya, now?” Schmilda cackled with glee. “You don’t recall any of those dreams?”
“Well, of course I do. But they were just dreams, weren’t they?” Myra shrugged. “My dad always said dreams are what you make of them. And besides, I had very little control when I was under that sleep charm.”
“But we don’t actually control our dreams like you do,” Begonia explained. “Our subconsciouses do.”
“Your sub-what? Gerdy are you hearing this? She says you can’t control your dreams!”
Gerdy’s face told Myra the witch’s words were true.
“You mean you don’t have a say? You can’t think the castle goes here, and there it goes? You can’t anoint yourself queen of the dragons? What’s the fun in that?”
“It was your magic werkin’ itself out,” said Schmilda. “Your ol dad hid it there.”
“But he—”
“Oh, yes he does.”
“He does, doesn’t he?” Myra nodded, reflecting. She’d spent so long in denial, Gerdy knew. “What a jerk.”
“Among other things,” Schmilda cackled again. “Anyhoo, it’s time you learn how to use some and not waste it in dreams.”
Several hours later, the crew had readied the airship for departure. With the blimp inflated, it hovered a few inches from the ground, tethered to ensure it didn’t fly off.
This is it, the true test, Brendan thought.
It was a far cry from the ship Brendan had first envisioned. The airship was far less reminiscent of the navy destroyer he’d modeled her after, and far more of Eddis’s design.
A steel hull, droning engines with buzzing propellers under a formidably framed blimp—the old man had even redesigned the cannons. The turret on the bow was menacing; it could angle straight up or straight down. Steam billowed from three smoke stacks on the stern.
It was Brendan who painted the name on her side.
“Beautiful name,” Eddis said. “Who’s it for?”
“She’s named after herself,” Brendan answered. “Her state of being. She’s a Phoenix rising from the ashes.”
“I like it!” Todder quite eagerly climbed aboard, followed by Myra and Gerdy.
“You sure you won’t come with us?” Brendan asked Eddis.
“I’m sure.” He nodded. “I’m a lover, not a fighter.” The old man gave Schmilda a saucy wink.
“Take care of the kids,” Brendan called. “We’ll see you again, I’m sure.”
The deck layout was modeled to Brendan’s design, and he started for his place next to the pilot, where he could not only see but command every facet of the ship’s operations.
But in that moment, Millie flew over the rail and jumped on the ship. Brendan didn’t say anything. He just smiled.
“You… you aren’t going to stop me?”
“Stop you?” Brendan scoffed. “Why would I stop you? I need my pilot…”
Millie cheesed a grin, and they both made for their positions, hers at the helm, and Brendan close beside her.
37
Timeline
“I expect you’re expecting some sob story—the old woe is me trope.” The Grand Sovereign was definitely monologuing now. He paced back and forth across the stern of the ship, now underway. It plowed through the ice ahead of them, pushing it into the slow moving river.
Epik had been the last to board the galleon, after the Grand Sovereign. Catarina still held Kavya close—her knife, under the gloomy shroud of the city, gleamed like the cutlery at both of Epik’s former employers.
The galleon’s crew was literally a skeleton crew. These were mostly men, who like Todder had been, were trapped inside themselves. Epik even recognized the train’s conductor who now served as the ship’s pilot22. He did little at the wheel, it seemed to turn on its own accord with his hands following as the ship snaked its way to Dune All-En, moving at a steady clip, its steam-driven engines powering it through the water and ice.
There were a few others aboard Epik recognized, some of the knights he had jousted against—and those he’d feasted with those months ago. Using Kavya’s power, he did a quick check and found they had no magic inside them—the Grand Sovereign must’ve stolen it somehow.
&nbs
p; “No,” the old wizard settled into his role, “there’s no humanizing in this tale. I was truly evil from the start—the very start. You see, I wasn’t born to be a king, not of noble birth… Or so I thought, so my mother led me to believe.
“My father was a magician, and in the eyes of others a fine one, but he was a hack, nonetheless. It was my mother with the abilities. She’d often do spells behind my father’s back, out of kindness or pity or both.
“As a boy I watched this love they supposedly had for each other fade away to nothing. And like any child, I thought perhaps it was my fault. But that’s neither here nor there, is it?”
The Grand Sovereign sighed.
“No, the real heart of the matter was the king. You’ve never seen a king like this. A man, yes, the most powerful man in the world—when he spoke, everyone listened. His words became truths. And every single person in the realm bent to his will.
“For the life of me, I didn’t understand why. You see, back then, wizards were just counselors. There to help rulers out in a pinch. There might have been some misguided doctrine that a wizard should never attempt to gain political power. Silly, isn’t it?” He smiled wickedly. “Well, I thought so.”
Epik noticed something odd. There was a small pinprick, a dot close to the radiant white brightness of the sun. Behind the ship, a dark mass—the cloud that had blotted out King’s Way followed them. It swirled and twisted on its own accord like it wasn’t a cloud at all.
“My father, and therefore my mother, assisted this king through thick and through thin. His reign was long—well, longer than the typical short reigns of monarchs in flux. He actually had control over his kingdom, Dune All-En.
“One day, I asked my father how this was so. My father smiled at me and said because of a prophecy—because of a magical sword or some nonsense like that.
“At first, I didn’t believe it. I sought any other truth. But then I noticed this king dared not go anywhere without his sword. I, as the son of the grand magician, the king’s right hand, had the run of the castle. Late one evening in the kitchens I met the king in his bathrobe and slippers, and there hung the scabbard on his belted robe.
Sight Beyond Epik Sight: A Steampunk Fantasy Romp (Epik Fantasy Book 3) Page 16