Valkyria

by Ink Blood

  He stood up, looking around before helping Alexia to her feet. She was still trembling.

  “What happened?” Einar couldn’t find an answer to give her. How could they have come back to the same place?

  “My arm,” said Alexia. “My arm’s not cut anymore!” Einar looked at her arm and saw she was right. It was as if there had never been any injury whatsoever.

  “What in the world is going on here?” He searched around in his brain for any possible explanation but found nothing. Instead his legs just complained. “I do not understand this. For now, let’s just get home. We’ll think about this after we rest.”

  “That’s a good idea,” agreed Alexia. “My legs feel as though they will fall off.”

  “Mine as well, and I don’t think we will be able to understand this by just standing here.”

  They picked up the cart yet again and slowly continued onward toward the village gates that approached from the distance.

  Yet there was something wrong, Einar was sure of it. He couldn’t shake that same feeling that someone was watching them.

  *~*~*

  7

  NATE

  The constant whine of the rotary blades was making the young engineer’s head pound like a tribal drum. Smoke filled the room and tar covered his originally pearly white overalls. The sounds of hammers beating metal rang in his ears as the other men rebuild parts of the old machine. Water continually leaked in through the pinprick holes in the wall, so Nate knew they were still at sea.

  “Every day a new toy play with, isn’t that right Nate?” The engineer span around, his ash covered hair fluttering upward before returning to rest on his shoulders. He removed the dusty old goggles from his face and smiled.

  “Charles! How have you been?”

  Charles stood tall before Nate, his fur lined jacket reaching to the ground, swinging in the scorching wind that blasted its way through the workshop to reveal the leather pantaloons underneath, and the skinned hide shirt on his torso. He always seemed to dress in the most inappropriate clothes according to Nate, but nevertheless he was good man and a great friend.

  “I have been in Arwindown, talking to the Peak Lords about this little project of ours.”

  Nate felt his hair stand on end. He had been awaiting the news that would surely follow for almost three months now.

  “I explained the idea of a small, high speed airship designed to retaliate against the battleships. They asked a lot of very strange questions about the shape of the body and how we would make the engine small enough.

  When I told them we already had the engine at the right size, they were astonished at best. How is the baby running anyway?”

  “Well… Slowly at the moment. The rotary blade doesn’t want to spin fast enough for the size because the rotary motor is designed for large systems. However, apart from that it runs fine. I’m just waiting for the men on deck to finish raising the iron giant from the water so that I may salvage the rotary parts from there.”

  Charles tilted his head to one side before glancing around the workshop. He placed a hand on Nate’s shoulder with a smile on his face.

  “We’re doing well. I saw them bring up the chains as I came on board. A wing had reached out of the water so it should not be much longer. For now, let us go and relax for a while.”

  Nate rolled a spanner through his fingers and gazed at the motors that were sitting on shelves behind Charles.

  “To be honest, Charles, I would like to make some more adjustments to the motor before relaxing. I have to make sure the new rotary parts can actually fit inside it when we get them.”

  As the engineer finished speaking, a loud crash echoed through the room as the iron door crashed open. A small boy with very little hair and grimier clothes than Nate’s entered the room with speed, waving a crimson flag.

  “The giant is here! The giant is on the deck!”

  Nate flinched for a second by looking straight into Charles’ face. His eyes were wide open and his mouth wider than a duck’s beak.

  “Hurry my boy,” said Charles, “let us go and see this giant for ourselves. I will help you remove the parts you need.”

  The young engineer nodded swiftly, dropped his spanner on the ground and moved very hastily toward the open door that led to the iron steps.

  The passageways of the boat were cold iron and grey as a winter’s morning. The metal froze to the skin if you touched it for long enough, except when you were near the engine room or the workshop as those rooms radiated so much heat it felt like it could melt a man in minutes. Bolts and bracers decorated the otherwise plain and dull walls as the two men darted up the winding stairs toward the deck.

  They passed the mess hall, where men were sitting around a white table stained with ale and oil from food. Cards were in their hands and piles of tobacco on the table. Behind them Matilda the cook strolled around collecting the pots and pans after dinner.

  After the mess hall came the deck door. It opened to a beautiful clear sky of blue and a bed of turquoise that rippled against the side of the massive tug boat.

  The deck itself was almost empty except for six men and the crane that chugged away spilling steam from every side. The captain was inspecting the massive birdlike metal contraption. It had a dark green color and the cockpit was sealed with glass, although most of it was cracked or broken entirely. The propellers themselves were the size of Nate’s entire body, but there were also a few smaller versions on a single pilot ship inside the larger one.

  “Well, it certainly looks like we struck big here, don’t you think Nate?”

  Charles didn’t receive the answer he awaited. Instead, Nate leaped straight toward the machine’s engines and began to disassemble it immediately. Oil and metal sprung out in all directions as he torn the motors apart in such of the rotary mechanism. It took three hours to find the part he needed, and by then everyone else had gone to the sleeping quarters as the sky blackening and the moon rose in the sky.

  “Well, I have it now so I should probably get some sleep myself. Tomorrow will be the day we fly.”

  He walked down through the corridors again, passing the mess hall which had emptied completely, strolling through the light of candle lanterns that had been left aflame for the late workers so they might see where they walked as they made their way to bed.

  The corridors filled with the sounds of the sleeping sailors, resembling a herd of bison rather than a group of men.

  When he arrived at his room he noticed the door was ajar and a light ever so small peeked out from within. His hands shaking, he reached for the handle and slowly opened the large iron door. Behind it stood that woman.

  In the candlelight her face resembled some kind of imp, the wart beneath the left eye giving the impression she had two heads. Her hair seemed to run away from her face, leaving an empty patch at the front of her head. Her hands lay on the table like bones next to the single candle that stood on a small carrying plate.

  “So you have come,” said Nate, sweat sliding from his face and crashing to the metal floor.

  “Indeed I have,” replied the crackling old voice. “We know you have nearly completely your engine. So next you must complete your agreement.”

  “Agreement!? We never agreed anything! You telling me to give you my life’s work or you will kill me is not an agreement.”

  The old and feeble looking woman crackled a she took to her feet. Her legs trembled as they tried to support her own weight. She looked so frail, yet her eyes said different.

  “They will come for their trophy tomorrow. The Inquisition will always collect their trophies. A storm is coming, you see, and your little flying machine will help that storm to burn Alexandria.”

  “I will not give this machine to southern dogs! I would not care if you came to me from the Inquisition, Alexandria or some unknown land further south. This airship belongs to the Three Peaks!”

  “We will see if that is true tomorrow, dear and ignorant child.”

&n
bsp; A gust of wind blew the door closed with an almighty crash and the flame of the candle fluttered into nothingness, cloaking the room in darkness. Nate reached into his pocket and pulled out a box of matches, striking one alight with just one hand.

  The light enveloped the room once again as he lit the small candle. The wind had died, and he found he was alone.

  *~*~*

  8

  AEON

  The moon shone brightly through the rain clouds that floated across the sky like feathers in a breeze. The droplets sparkled like emeralds as they fell through the trees and to the earth below. The darkness of the night was slowly retreating as the first sign of the sun poked its head over the horizon, but shadow still shrouded the forest as the storm tried with all its might not to die.

  Aeon strolled along the dirt paths that lead away from Saylae in the direction of his quarry.

  The bird songs had taken life once again, giving a chorus of welcome to the coming morning. The wind that had blown so strongly through the midnight hours was falling to just a whisper.

  He arrived at the fallen tree, still in the middle of the road. Yet there was no sign of the two youths. Turning, he followed the small track his men had created a handful of nights ago in the hope that the young girl would be laying somewhere nearby. She wasn’t.

  “Well this surely is a sour turn of events,” he said to the air that flowed around him. “How do you think she was able to escape the darkness, my dear?”

  “The answer is simply, dear Aeon,” answered the same disembodied voice that had spoken to him for as long as he could remember. “My brothers and sisters must finally have awoken to our plan.”

  “But why would they interfere? We will cause no harm to them.”

  “They interfere, my dear friend, because they know that we are far more powerful than they ever could be. It terrifies them.”

  Aeon turned to follow the pathway back to the main road, if you could actually call it a road.

  “So what must we do?”

  “Well, if seems that my family will hinder the progress of your little games, so perhaps I should take matters into my own hands?”

  “You speak as if my game has failed.”

  “It has. There is no girl, there is no plan and there is no success. Therefore, it is a failure.”

  Aeon reached the fallen tree once again, closed his eyes and threw his open palm forward until it connected to the tree trunk. The trunk itself flew away from him, spinning as it hit another tree that still stood in place before landing neatly at the side of the road allowing passage once again.

  “This was merely act one, my old friend. They have passed it, and now they move to act two. Let us see how they will fare this time.”

  “Very well, I will allow you to continue, but remember that the fate of the Ringlands rests on you finding the girl. So take this one, and she will lead you to other, that I promise.”

  “The fate of the Ringlands relies on both my finding my precious girl and on you strengthening the Inquisition’s forces.”

  He began down the road once again, the gates of Caim Village growing ever closer. The day was dawning, but it seemed to be slower than usual. Time was on his side.

  The wooden gates were open, just as the farmer had promised they would be. It had taken a little persuasion and a lot of bruises, but the young man had agreed to keep the gate open when he left Saylae the night before. Inside the circular wall of poles stood a pathetic number of hovels and a single stream equally as unimpressive as the village itself, although it caused a strange feeling of belonging to well up inside Aeon. Everyone still slept, the daylight just creeping onto the floor of the village. He still had time.

  He looked around for the sign that the young man agreed to leave for him. Next to a small and rotten little fleapit of a house was a burnt branch taken from the tree Aeon had brought down.

  Smiling, he moved toward the hut silently, passing the miniscule log bridge that crossed the stream and through a number of small flower beds.

  Inside the house it was dark and damp, with the stench of chicken meat and the odour of fresh bread. A young man lay still on the floor with Aeon’s quarry sleeping next to him. The daylight pierced the darkness with a single line that stretched west across the house. Aeon moved closer, the young girl finally in his reach.

  “Now I have you, my dear Alexia.”

  *~*~*

  9

  EINAR

  The sunlight burnt the skin over Einar’s face, giving him a very rude awakening. Slowly stirring in his makeshift bed, he rolled over onto all fours and pushed himself up.

  “Good morning Alexia.” There was no reply. He opened his eyes slowly, sitting back on his legs before glancing around the room. “Alexia?” The hut was empty. Her bed was a mess and the sunlight was entering through the front door which was wide open.

  Einar leaped to his feet and hastily pulled his tunic and pantaloons on. Running out the house he cried out his sister’s name, much to the surprise of the villagers who were already working in their gardens. He ran along the stream, around the houses and through the fields of Gafer’s poor excuse of a farm.

  “Alexia? Where are you?”

  He got no answer, no matter how many times he called her name. He could feel sweat drip down his face and back as his hands trembled. He walked over to Ma’am Erey’s house, his fist almost breaking the old door as he struck it to get the old crone’s attention.

  After a few short seconds he heard the rustling of feet slowly approaching the door before the lock clicked and it creaked open.

  “What in the name of the Tower is wrong with you, boy?”

  “Where is she,” cried Einar, his face contorted into a demon of anger.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “My sister! Where is she?”

  Ma’am Erey’s neck stretched, as did the wrinkles on her face as her eyebrows moved down and her face dropped toward the ground.

  “Alexia is missing?”

  “Yes she’s missing, you old fool!”

  Ma’am Erey was carrying an iron kettle, polished enough that Einar could see his reflection in it. He could also see Gafer’s son Bartholomew staring at him from behind. His fists clenched harder as he span and darted toward the young farmer. Grasping Bartholomew by the neck he pushed the farmer to the wall.

  “Where is she!? What did you do with my sister, bastard?”

  Bartholomew tried to lift his arm toward Einar’s face, but Einar instinctively drew one of his daggers and pushed it through the farmer’s sleeve and into the wooden wall.

  “What did you do with her!? Tell me, or Fool help me, I will slice you open.”

  Bartholomew’s eyes dart around in search of aid, but only Einar, Ma’am Erey and Gafer were there. Gafer ran over to his son and Einar, Bartholomew breathing a heavy sigh and relaxing his arms. Einar held tight.

  “Tell him, boy,” said Gafer. Bartholomew’s eyes widened as he stared at his father who did nothing to aid his son out of such a predicament. Einar smiled. He moved closer to his captive and stared into his eyes, watery and open.

  “I didn’t do anything,” said the young farmer, his lack of education in speech becoming apparent in an instance. “It was that man! He made me do it.”

  “Do what,” said Einar, interrupting him.

  “He told me he would kill me if I didn’t leave the eastern gate open and show him where you lived.”

  “What have you done, boy,” shouted Gafer, slapping his son across the face. “Who was this man? Tell us now!”

  Einar released his grip long enough to punch the young farmer in stomach. He breathed hard before throwing another one to Bartholomew’s face.

  “Where did he take my sister? Who is he?”

  “He said he was from the Inquisition. He was taking her for questioning! He said she was the key to keeping the Ringlands free!”

  “And you believed him, just like that? I cannot believe I raised such a fool of a boy.”


  “But father, he was going to kill me!”

  “So what do you think he will do to Alexia? Your mother would have been ashamed! Tell me where he was going!”

  Bartholomew paused, water filling his eyes and escaping down his face to the ground. Einar could feel him trembling fast and hard.

  “He told me they were taking her to Esterland. That’s all I know! Really!”

  Einar pulled the dagger from the wall and placed in back in its sheath before punching the young man’s face. Bartholomew fell to the ground, landing on his knees with a river of tears falling from him. Einar turned to Gafer.

  “I’m going to Esterland.”

  “I will come with you, my boy.”

  “No,” said Einar, interrupting the farmer. “I have enough coin to take a ferryboat across to Argent, but only enough for one person. Besides, with this fool of a son of yours, we need someone here to keep everyone safe.”

  Gafer shifted from one foot to the other and back again more than twice. His hands were wrestling with each other and he hadn’t taken his eyes of Bartholomew.

  “You are right. If this idiot could leave the gates open all night, who knows what may come into Caim. Very well, I will wait here for news, but please allow me to give you some coin. You will need to eat whilst you travel and the Esterland is a place of high prices and extortion.”

  Einar accepted. He couldn’t refuse the aid of Gafer twice in one conversation. Gafer walked over to his kneeling son and gave his a boot to the chest before turning and beckoning Einar to follow him.

  They moved toward the farmer’s house, the inside of which was painted a dull red, which had turned almost pink over the years of rain. Einar watched as Gafer reached into a small wardrobe and pulled out a handful of coin.

  “Here, take this. There is about fifty coin here. It should be enough to pay for food for the both of you as you go and return.”

  “Thank you, Gafer. But can you really afford to give so much?”

  “Come now, my boy. My senseless child has put your sister in danger. This is the least that I can do for you now.”