The Defender of Rebel Falls: A Medieval Science Fiction Adventure (The William Whitehall Adventures Book 1)

by Christensen, Erik

  William sputtered until Cairns intervened. “Melissa, you’ll have plenty of time to torture William later. This is his first day, please go easy on him.”

  “Fine. But I want an answer, eventually.” Her grin told him she was only partly kidding. But what answer could he give her? How could he admit that he hadn’t even known where she had gone after leaving school, especially since she hadn’t even left Marshland? He had wanted to ask their teacher, Miss Plevins, but he hadn’t wanted anyone to guess why he was asking. He had suffered enough ridicule already.

  They left Melissa’s workroom without further embarrassment. William felt relieved that he had at least kept his feelings secret from Cairns, and as they entered another room similar to Melissa’s he felt a sense of normalcy returning.

  “So, you’re in love with my illustrator, are you?” asked Cairns.

  “Um—what?”

  “Oh, I don’t blame you. She’s quite pretty. What shade would you call her eyes? Lavender? Lilac? Whatever it is, it’s quite unusual.”

  “Uh…I always thought of them as light purple, I guess.”

  “That’s a rather unimaginative description, wouldn’t you say?”

  William sat at the large table and looked up at his new boss. “That’s just it though…I always thought that maybe I’d imagined the color. Every time I see them I’m always surprised they’re real. The first time I saw them was when—wait…you don’t want to hear this, do you?”

  Cairns shook his head. “I really don’t. I only mentioned it to tell you not to let it affect your work. Or hers.”

  William laughed. “I won’t. Whose office is this, by the way?”

  “Yours,” said Cairns. “I think you’ll find everything you need here. If not, the supplies are kept in the room beside my office. Do you recognize this book?”

  William opened the tattered cover and thumbed through the faded pages. “I haven’t seen one of these in years. We read these in school when we learned about the Kingdom.”

  “It was outdated when you were a child, far more so now. We finally have the money to update it, and Jessica is leading the project. Melissa will redraw the maps, and I need you to collect fresh data on the Dukedoms: the names of the Dukes, their family trees, populations, largest trades…that sort of thing. And for King’s sake, try to make it interesting—this is dry reading to put a child through.”

  William laughed. “I understand. I always enjoyed maps, though. But why do they need to be redrawn? It’s not as though the land has moved…has it?”

  “Goodness, no. But borders between Dukedoms change. Sometimes they split, or merge, or pieces of land are traded. Not often, but every generation brings changes. In fact—follow me.”

  William followed him back to Melissa’s office. “Melissa,” said Cairns. “This damp weather is torture on my knees. Would you be kind enough to take William downstairs to the map room? He needs to familiarize himself with the current borders.”

  Melissa’s eyes lit up. “Can I show him the other thing?”

  “I thought you might ask,” said Cairns. He smiled and fished a large key from his pocket and handed it to her. “Remember the rules, Melissa.”

  “Don’t worry, I will. Come with me,” she said to William. When he failed to follow quickly enough, she grabbed his wrist and hauled him out of the office without looking back at Cairns. She snatched the lantern at the top of the stairs and descended the steps two at a time.

  William steadied himself on the banister. “What’s this ‘other thing’? And can you slow down so I don’t break my neck?”

  “Oh, so you’re worried about your own neck, and not mine?” she asked.

  “Well you’re the one running down the stairs. What’s got you so excited, anyway?”

  She unlocked the door nearest the stairs. “Since you care more about your neck than mine, I’m not telling you. Maps first. Hang the lantern on that post so it lights the table.” As William did so, she pulled some rolls from a shelf and laid them on the table, unrolling one and placing stone weights on the corners to keep it flat.

  William stared at the map laid out before him, larger than any he had ever seen. All of Ibyca was depicted on the left side, while the right side showed most of Azuria, only its vast, unexplored south-east corner missing. He spotted Faywater Port on the west coast of Azuria, located at the mouth of the river from which it got its name. The Faywater river wasn’t long—William saw several longer ones on both continents—but fed by mountains on three sides, it carved a wide valley that ran over 700 miles inland. About halfway along the river sat Marshland Crossing, and seeing it gave William a sense of how little of the world he had seen. “This is magnificent,” he said. “Who made this?”

  Melissa beamed. “I did.”

  William shook his head. “Lester wasn’t kidding. You have talent. I don’t see any borders, though.”

  “This is a terrain map, silly. These are the political ones.” She unrolled two smaller maps, one for the north half of Ibyca, one for the south. The dukedoms and their borders stood out in bold color, and the only physical landmarks displayed were coastlines and rivers. Villages and towns dotted the map, the capitals of each dukedom clearly indicated with a ducal coronet.

  William counted thirty-five dukedoms between the two maps. He looked around for a third map. “Where’s the one for Azuria?”

  She rolled the two smaller maps and handed them to William. “We don’t need one. Azuria is still only one dukedom.”

  “A whole continent is one dukedom? Why?”

  She rolled up the larger map and shrugged. “People only settled here a little over a century ago. Not enough population to split into more dukedoms I guess. But that’s your job, mister. I’m done with that stuff. Grab the lantern; we’re finished here.”

  He followed her down the hallway until she stopped at a large wooden door with a heavy bar and latch. She turned to him and took the lantern. “Okay, rules,” she said. “First, no lanterns or any flame past this door.”

  “Why not?” he asked.

  She hung the lantern directly in front of the door, and the flames reflected in her eyes as she glared at him. “Obviously, whatever’s inside could catch fire, and that would be bad. May I continue?”

  “Sorry,” he said.

  “Second, wear these.” She handed him a pair of cotton gloves and put on a pair of her own. He did as he was told and waited. “Third, what you are about to see is a secret. Only three people in Marshland know about this, and you will be the fourth. Not even the Earl knows. You are not to tell a single person about this.”

  William swallowed hard, awed by the responsibility bestowed upon him. “I understand.”

  She unlocked the latch and removed the bar. “This door is heavy; help me push it open.” Inside, a giant curved silver mirror caught the light from the lantern and reflected it toward a glass case at the far end of the room. She unlocked the case and gently removed the glass cover. A solitary leather-bound book lay on a white silk pillow. She cradled it in her hands and motioned for William to approach. “This has been rebound twice that we know of, but the pages are original. Here, open it.”

  He took the book from her as carefully as he could and opened it to the first page and read the title. “‘Paradoxes and Applied String Theory’. Is this a book about knots or something, because that doesn’t seem like the sort of thing—”

  “Will, this is one of the two oldest books on Esper. It’s not about strings, it’s about…well, I don’t know what it’s about. Something to do with science. Something about how we got to Esper.”

  William fingered the pages through his gloves. “This feels like quality paper. The printing is sharp, too. It doesn’t look that old. Are you sure—”

  “Our best guess is around five hundred fifty years.”

  William’s hands became numb. The sinking feeling in his stomach warned him that he might drop the precious object. He didn’t dare grasp it tighter; instead, he placed it gently o
n the table beside him where he could gaze at it safely. “This…this book is from Earth? I didn’t know any existed…”

  “Look at the author’s name, Will.”

  He scanned the page, most of which was filled with words he couldn’t understand. Near the bottom was a line that jumped out at him: ‘Author Marshall Ibycus explains his radical new technology in terms even the least scientifically literate of us can understand.’

  Melissa pushed a stool behind his knees. “Sit down, Will. I don’t want you to fall.”

  “This isn’t possible…”

  She giggled at his reaction. “You don’t need to whisper; there’s no one here but us.”

  “Marshall Ibycus wrote this book? The Marshall Ibycus?”

  “I only know of one. According to the title page it was printed in Earth year 2074, two years before colonization. I’m sure you’ve guessed the book was printed by machine. They had machines on Earth that could print thousands…maybe even millions of copies. But turn the page.”

  The next page was blank except for faded markings. He squinted and barely made out the hand-written words: ‘To my daughter Shelly: Never stop questioning. Love, Dad.’ “Who wrote this, and why would they deface something so valuable?”

  Melissa closed the book and returned it to its display. “When the Ibycus family left Earth, Dr. Marshall told his two children to pack light, but to grab one treasured item each. Unknown to each other, they both brought their personal copy of their father’s book. The son’s copy is kept at the old Library in New Athens. Am I going to have to help you up the stairs? You look like you’re in shock.”

  William shook his head to clear it. “I guess I am, a little. I’ll be okay, though. It’s a lot to take in at once.”

  Melissa giggled again. “I reacted the same way. Jessica once told me Lester dropped the book the first time he saw it…but don’t you dare repeat that.”

  “I won’t. I almost dropped it myself.”

  “Let’s lock up so I can show you the records room. That’s where you’ll find the most recent information on the dukedoms. We get copies of all legal documents and reports, just like the Old Library does. Here we are. The shelves are arranged left to right, north to south…more or less. Each crate is labeled with the name of the dukedom, the year, and the administrative department. You’ll find trade agreements, shipping manifests, family records, Guard records—”

  “Guard records? What’s in those?”

  “You won’t need them. It’s just routine patrol reports, lists of captured outlaws, that sort of thing. Nothing you’ll need for your report to Jessica. Okay, I think we’re finished here; you have your maps—”

  He lost track of what she was saying. It may have been the mention of the Guard or that the cramped quarters they stood in had caused her arm to brush against his, but he felt transported back in time. “Melissa,” he said.

  “What?”

  “Do you…that day, in class…do you remember—”

  “Of course I remember, Will. No one forgets a day like that.”

  “Well…I never thanked you. I should have.”

  She stared at him for several heartbeats, scanning his face. “You’re frustrating, you know that? Bring the lantern up when you’re done. And don’t carry too much at once or you’ll burn yourself…or worse, one of my maps.”

  What had he said wrong now? And why was he so awkward with her? She was just a person, like Jack, or his mother, or Lester, but it was so much harder to talk to her. He caught a glimpse of her graceful legs beneath her long skirt as she ascended the stone steps. He stared, hoping for another glimpse…but then she was gone.

  He dove into the records with a frenzy. He filled an empty crate with twenty years’ worth of files, scanning for just the types of papers he needed, his gaze only briefly stopping on the Guards’ reports before moving on.

  Those would have to wait.

  It was soon realized that without fast methods of transportation or communication, even a representative democracy was unworkable over such vast distances. While the transition from Colony to Kingdom brought about the desired stability through enforced hierarchy, it also reduced expenditures on things that were once considered inviolate rights, such as health care, education, and justice systems.

  Planet of Hope: A History of Esperanza

  William’s hand throbbed. He had never written this much even while in school, and he struggled to keep his letters straight and tidy. A pile of completed pages sat on his right, blotted dry and ready for binding. On his left stood a much larger pile of empty pages, a grim reminder of the looming deadline Cairns had imposed on him and whatever punishment would come with missing it. He rested his pen in the inkwell and rubbed his eyes, noticing too late the smudge on his thumb that he had now almost certainly smeared across his face.

  He splashed his face with water from the bucket in the corner, and scrubbed where he thought the ink was. The water soothed the burn on his arm that he had successfully hidden from Melissa so far. He unrolled his sleeve to cover the burn and returned to his seat, only to hear Cairns call his name. He capped the inkwell and hurried to his boss’ office.

  “William, I wanted to ask about—King’s mercy, William, what happened to your eye?”

  “What?” William felt his face, wondering what Cairns was referring to.

  “How did you get that black eye? Were you in a fight?”

  “Oh…no…it’s ink.”

  Cairns raised an eyebrow. “Your penmanship concerns me, William. Our standard is to print letters upright and in a straight line, but it appears you have difficulty even keeping them on paper.”

  The twinkle in Cairns’ eye did nothing to lessen the sting. “I’ll try to do better,” said William.

  Cairns waved William’s comment away. “You’ll improve with practice. Still, I think Jessica should finish the copying. We want these texts to be neater than the students’ writing. Besides, I have another task for you.”

  William massaged his cramped hand. “Research, I hope.”

  “Indeed. As much as I enjoy mocking your handwriting, I must compliment you on how efficiently you gathered facts for the new text book. I require the same diligence on this project.”

  William’s chest swelled with pride. “Of course. What sort of project?”

  Cairns drummed his fingers on his desk. “I almost didn’t assign this to you. Duke Vincent has commissioned a report on changes in bandit activity in Azuria over the last twenty years.”

  William jumped up from the chair. “But that’s perfect! I was hoping to—”

  “Sit down William, and listen to me. This is why I questioned whether to give you this task. I don’t doubt your eagerness, but this is not intended to be your personal vendetta. Earl Masterman finances the Guard in this region, as does every other Earl in this and all the dukedoms. But the Duke has funds to bolster the Guard presence in areas of his choosing, and he needs a completely objective report in order to choose wisely.”

  William hung his head so Cairns wouldn’t see his anger. Cairns had already stolen his chance to become a Guard, and now he was forbidding William to investigate his father’s death at the hands of the outlaws he was ordered to research. It was Selection Day all over again.

  Cairns walked around his desk and placed a bony hand on William’s shoulder. “Any son would feel the same in your position, William. I would have grave doubts about any man who didn’t. Farmers, like the ones your father defended, pay rent and taxes to their Baron or the Earl in exchange for protection. The Earl pays his taxes to the Duke for the same reason, and likewise the Dukes to King Duncan. With the right information the Duke can place troops where they are needed most. In this way, you will be helping protect innocent lives as much as your father ever did.”

  William nodded without looking up. “Okay. I understand. No personal investigation, just the facts.”

  Cairns nodded vigorously. “Exactly. I won’t say you can’t look. But don’t focus on it
. And if you do find something about your father, let me know about it. Now, is there anything else we need to discuss? I have a poker game to attend.”

  “No, I don’t—wait, yes there is. When Melissa showed me the…I’m not sure what to call it…the…you know…”

  “We simply call it ‘The Book’, William. And no, I didn’t drop it. That’s just a rumor Jessica started because I make fun of her hats.”

  “Yes, The Book. Well, Melissa mentioned it was printed by a machine that could make thousands of copies. Why don’t we have anything like that here?”

  Cairns put on his coat and wrapped his cloak around his shoulders. “William, I believe you’ve set a record for the fastest a new librarian has asked that question. I should have you research it yourself…but I’ve already assigned you a task, so I’ll have to tell you: it’s too expensive.”

  “Look,” said William. “I know we can’t make the same machine, but can’t we at least try to build some sort of—”

  Cairns raised a hand. “Fine, apparently you need to learn the hard way. Research it, and present a budget to me next week for the development of a printing press. If it makes sense, we’ll build it.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. Don’t let it take too much time away from your bandit research.”

  “I won’t.”

  “And one other thing: while you’re at it, try not to burn yourself again. I may be sixty-eight years old, but I haven’t forgotten what burning skin smells like.”

  Hours later, Jessica found him at his work table surrounded by volumes on ancient technologies. “William, what are you doing here so late? Your mother must be worried sick!”

  He looked up, startled. “Why, what time is it?”

  “Almost midnight, silly boy. What’s so important that it can’t wait until morning? If I hadn’t seen the light and come to check—”

  “Oh, it’s this stupid project Lester gave me. I made a suggestion—”

  Jessica laughed. “Let me guess: printing, right? We’ve all suggested it. Do yourself a favor and admit defeat.”