by M. D. Laird
“There is no timeframe for that,” said Thalia. “We are at risk imminently. We will have to make adamantine weapons—the king has forced our hand.”
“No,” said Eve firmly. “I will not do that. I will slit my own throat before I do that.”
Thalia rolled her eyes. “We need to even things up somehow—I won’t ask my people to fight a war we can’t win. They’ll just be slaughtered.”
“Perhaps I could return to Axandria and destroy the weapons or seal the door. I need my family to be protected first, though.”
“They’ll be watching your every move—how do you know they’re not here now?”
Eve sat glumly. “Their Cloak was not as effective. Prince Thomas’ scouts reported they could sense them, but they did not know we were there so they couldn’t warn us. They saw the hole appear in the bunker and presumed the king’s alchemist was responsible. My guards could not sense them from within my Cloak.”
“It’s reassuring for now that we might know, though it is only a matter of time before they master the skill,” Thalia sighed then added dejectedly, “This could have been prevented if you had just spoken to Prince Thomas. You knew they were planning a revolution.”
“I never intended for this to happen.”
“With all due respect, Your Majesty, you entered an enemy territory to search for weapons. How did you expect this would play out?”
“I didn’t think they would know. I thought I could open the bunker, check what was inside, seal it, and be gone within a few minutes.”
“What’s done is done,” snapped Avalon. “I’m bored with going over it. Everyone agrees Her Majesty was at fault, what is the point in discussing it further?”
“We need to make sure it doesn’t happen again,” said Thalia defensively.
“Now is hardly the time,” said Avalon. “If you’re going to Axandria, Your Majesty, you should go now. Leave your vector and fly with your guard. Keep your shields up as much as you can. Reseal the bunker. We can make a long-term plan when we have prevented the king from accessing the weapons. This incident has, at least, informed us that the second alchemist is not allied with the king or the weapons would not have been sealed away. Give your captain a list of names and addresses, and I will make sure guards are on them.”
“Thank you, Prince Avalon,” said Eve, surprised at Avalon’s response. Out of all of the quorum members, she was most worried about his reaction. Well, she was worried that he would be angry and baying for her blood. She was actually the most afraid of seeing Jacob and Tharazan’s disappointment. Tharazan was annoyed, but she could not tell what Jacob was thinking.
At Eve’s insistence, they covered regular items on the agenda. Eve felt she needed to wrestle back a little normalcy after the discussions about her stepping down or being imprisoned. The meeting went smoothly with the quorum settling into their new pattern. She had taken note of Jacob’s point, and each person took a turn to speak on issues and was not to talk over others. There was still arguing, but it was quickly resolved when they realised Eve would have the final say. Perhaps it was because they didn’t trust her decisions that all matters were quickly resolved without her needing to pull rank.
Eve took no chances this time and had guards within her Cloak and outside it in the midspace. Her guards kept an open channel through their voxes, which, fortunately, worked across all planes.
The new door to the bunker was heavily guarded, so Eve waited until nightfall and chose a new spot to enter the bunker with the intention of sealing the door from the inside. She also wanted to destroy as many of the weapons as she had energy for just in case they did manage to get the door open.
The group spent the remainder of the day hidden close by so they could monitor the bunker without Eve’s Cloaking. They watched the day guards leave and the night guards arrive and spent time watching their pattern. When they were confident that they could enter the bunker without the new entrance being observed, Eve raised her Cloak, and the group made for the bunker. Working quickly, she made an entrance, and they entered the dark space which Leliel lit for Eve with his vox.
Eve felt the colour drain from her face as she beheld the sight before her.
Dear lord.
“Oh crap,” she said.
“That must be why they were so adamant that we remove the scouts,” said Leliel.
“So we would have no idea where they have moved the weapons,” she said, swallowing her nausea. “The guards are just a decoy. Another trick that I’ve fallen for.”
This was our last chance.
Before Eve left for Axandria, the official edict had arrived from the king declaring war on Arkazatinia. Scouts had reported that the king’s armies had begun to ready their ships.
“Perhaps we could go to the ships, Your Majesty,” said Barakel. “We could try and destroy them there,”
“They have thousands of ships, Barakel. I can’t maintain my Cloak long enough,” she said, defeated.
“Perhaps not, Your Majesty,” said Leliel, “but we should go anyway—maybe we can learn something of their plans that may help us.”
She grinned. “More espionage. I like it. I will update the quorum this time.” She smiled sheepishly. “I’ve learned my lesson.”
Eve resealed the bunker, then Captain Leliel lifted her into his arms, and they flew into the night.
Sharp players never move the piece their opponents are expecting, and especially not the ones they want them to.
Baltasar Gracián, The Art of Worldly Wisdom.
Part the Third
…that each at some period of its life, during some season of the year, during each generation or at intervals, has to struggle for life, and to suffer great destruction.
Charles Darwin, The Origin of Species
Maol thought he would have an easier few weeks on the farm, but he found that he had to work just as hard as he did in the blacksmiths and building houses. He was tired at the end of each day, but he was satisfied and felt that he had achieved something. The island’s people were eating food he had picked, meat that he had slaughtered and drinking ale he had brewed.
The kitchens brought no relief and he spent every day in the heat peeling vegetables and washing dishes. Zayn and Karim were working in the kitchen with him, and they were just as bored with the tasks as they had been previously, but they did get on with the work and Maol found his days in the kitchen entertaining with them for company.
Each evening Maol wrote to Rya. He told her about everything he had done, though he did not mention the sword. Part of him wanted to surprise her with his achievement, but another part of him worried about whether she would be happy for him to have it. None of the other slaves had weapons, and he imagined he wasn’t supposed to have one either. He kept the sword to himself as he could not bear for it to be confiscated and kept it hidden in his cabin.
Maol had been on the island for two months when Rya had finally sent word that she was returning. He stood in the bay waiting for her ship to dock. He was looking forward to seeing her again. They had been writing to each other, but Rya’s letters had become vague, and he had missed her.
Rya walked down the gangplank towards the commander with her guards and followed by around two dozen new slaves. After a few administrative tasks, the commander took charge of the slaves and Rya walked towards Maol.
He smiled at her. “Hello,” he said.
She returned his smile weakly and allowed him to pull her into a hug. “We need to talk,” she said plainly.
Maol felt his stomach lurch.
She’s had enough of me already. That didn’t take long.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Not here,” she said. “We’ll go to my house.”
Maol followed her to her house. Her house was on the cliff top and had a beautiful ocean view. The stone house was the largest home on the island. It had two floors with two spacious bedrooms and a bathroom on the first floo
r, and a kitchen and sitting room on the ground floor. Rya had told him it was the first building on the island after she had acquired it. She had built the home with the intention of living alone on her own island before her plans, for whatever her plans were for, emerged.
They entered the house. A hominem male was in the kitchen finishing putting away supplies. Rya’s approaching ship signalled for island staff to light her stove, put on a kettle of water to boil and bring her food and fresh milk. She said she had never asked them to do it, but it was always done.
“Thank you very much, Linim.” She smiled at the hominem. “I am looking forward to a nice cup of tea.”
Linim bowed to her and left.
“Tea?” she asked.
“In a moment,” said Maol. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
She stood with her hands in front of her and looked down at the floor. “I am with child,” she muttered.
“What?” he asked, startled.
“I’m pregnant,” she said, looking at him with sad eyes. “I had forgotten that I’d had my opal removed. I’d had it for a hundred years, and it needed to be changed. I forgot to get a new one.”
Maol’s eyes narrowed. “You are carrying my child?”
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“I’m going to be a father?” he asked, his voice growing louder.
She began to cry.
“Well…that’s…that’s wonderful,” he cried.
She looked at him through teary eyes. “It’s not,” she said.
“Why ever not?”
“I… The timing couldn’t be worse. My plans will be ruined.”
“We’ll manage,” Maol said, excitedly. “We’re going to have a baby. You have made me the happiest man. This changes everything.”
“Changes what?”
“Well, you don’t need to own me now; I will be here for you—always. We should get married.”
“Maol, stop it. It changes nothing. I still want you for my plans and my plans don’t involve marrying you and raising a family with you.”
“So, things have changed slightly. Your plans may be a little delayed, but all is not lost. You can plan around the baby and I will be here with you.”
“No, Maol,” she said coldly. “As soon as the baby is born I will be giving it up. Pregnancy will affect my plans enough; I don’t have the time to raise a child.”
“No!” he cried, horrified. “You can’t do this. I will raise the child if you don’t want it.”
“I didn’t pay ten thousand marcs for a nanny,” she snapped. “I need you for other things. The baby is going.”
Maol felt tears in his eyes for the first time since he was a child. “How can you be so cruel? How can you deny me my child for the sake of a few thousand marcs? Is that all that matters to you? I will go and do whatever it takes to raise that money if it is all that you want and then I will take the baby and raise it myself.”
Rya dropped to her knees and sobbed. Maol dropped to her side and put his arms around her shoulders.
“It doesn’t have to be the end of everything you’ve worked for. You just need to rethink your plans. Tell me what your plans are, and I will help. We can be together and be a family.”
“I can’t believe you’re saying this,” she wept. “I thought you would be furious. I almost asked for my guards to be present when I told you. I never imagined that you would want a child.”
“I’m not a monster,” he said, then added bitterly, “At least, not anymore. I’ve never wanted a child until just now and now there is nothing I want more.”
She raised her eyes to look at him, and he wiped her tears.
“Will you let us be a family?” he asked.
“I know nothing about children or keeping a home.”
“I doubt you’re going to become a housewife and you don’t have to. I don’t know anything about children either, but we’ll find out together.”
She put her arms around his neck, and he kissed her gently. She returned his kiss passionately and began to remove his shirt. Maol picked her up to carry her to the bedroom.
“I’ve put on weight already,” she said. “I’m going to be hideous.”
“You are carrying our baby—you can never be hideous.”
Later that evening Maol and Rya sat at Rya’s table eating the rabbit stew Maol had prepared. Stew was one of the few meals that Maol could cook well, a useful skill acquired from early in his army career.
“This is delicious,” she said. “Perhaps you should be one of my guards, and you can take over when Markus wants a night off.”
Maol grinned. “You should let me join your guard. I have reason to protect you more fiercely than anyone.”
She smiled and was about to reply when a knock came to the door. Markus entered when bid to do so. “Hello Markus, we were just talking about you—this rabbit stew is as good as yours.”
“We’ve received an urgent lolite, your lordship,” he said, handing over a sheet of vellum.
Rya read the letter and her brow furrowed with concern.
“What is it?” asked Maol.
“Maol, can you leave us, please? I need to speak with Markus privately.”
“Rya, you can trust me with your plan,” he said. “I want to help.”
Rya considered it for a moment and waved her hand. “Fine,” she said. “But I have no time to fill you in on the details now.”
Maol nodded. “I understand.”
Rya turned to Markus. “We’re not ready, but we may not get another opportunity. We should take advantage. Send word to Solar to prepare to leave and have our ships readied according to the most recent draft plan.”
“At once, your lordship,” said Markus before bowing and leaving the cabin.
“What is happening?” he asked.
“I don’t have time to explain. Just go and pack—we’re leaving. Meet me at the dock in an hour.”
Maol did not need an hour to pack as he had very few belongings. He stuffed his clothes and toiletries into a sack, threw on his coat, picked up Rodor and strode to the dock.
He had only taken fifteen minutes, and Rya was yet to arrive. He watched as a fleet of ships with dark green sails emblazoned with a fiery red hawk were moving out of their hiding place in caves in the cliff and were being loaded by small boats carrying supplies and men. Rya’s entire guard were there and wearing dark green uniforms that Maol had not seen before. They wore thick pants, a breasted armoured jacket, a helmet and a light cloak with the hawk seal stitched upon it. If they wore the colours of Rya’s noble house, then it was not one he recognised.
The island army’s leader Captain Firean marched to the water’s edge leading an army of men in their dark green uniforms. Maol had seen these uniforms before, they were the same as the ones worn by the captain and the commander, but now they all wore the red hawk emblem on their cloaks. The men began to board the smaller boats and were being shuttled towards the ships at great speed as each man took an oar on the outward journey and two powerful thorian males rowed at full speed on the return trip.
By the time the hour had passed, half of the men were on board the ships. Rya arrived, also dressed in a dark green uniform, and armed with a sword and a dagger.
“Are you ready?” she said to him.
“Yes,” he said. “Please tell me you don’t intend to fight.”
“I intend to defend myself if I have to,” she replied coolly. Maol sighed. “Let’s go. We’re to board The Fortitude—it’s over there.” She pointed to the largest ship in the fleet. It was the furthest ship from the shore and the one intended to lead the others. They began to walk towards Rya’s guards who were waiting for the boats loading The Fortitude.
“If this is your draft plan then I cannot imagine what your final plan looks like,” remarked Maol. “How did you pull this off so quickly?”
She smiled at him. “We have ships ready to move at a moment’s notice. The
y are already loaded with everything except food and men. As soon as the men are all on board, then we will go.”
“Go where?” he asked.
“Your lordship.”
Maol turned to see Samuel the blacksmith running towards them. He was wearing an ill-fitting uniform, which was too large for him around the shoulders. Maol did not know why he was there. Everyone looked ready to fight, and apart from forging them, Maol had never seen Samuel raise a sword. It would make sense that if he could make swords he may be able to use one, but he did not appear to belong with the other soldiers.
“Good evening Samuel,” she said. “Where are your team?”
“On their way,” he said. “What ship are we to board?”
“Samuel, you have had the plan for five years! Have you not read it?” she exclaimed.
“Not recently,” he stumbled.
“I hope you haven’t forgotten anything,” she groaned and called to one of the guards. “Alistaire, do you know where the blacksmiths should be?
“Not off hand, your lordship. I’d have to go through the register for every ship.”
“Never mind that. You know the numbers, put them where there is a space. Is there room on board The Fortitude?”
“How many in the team?”
“Four,” answered Samuel.
“There is room, your lordship,” said Alistaire.
“Thank you, Alistaire,” she replied. “Ah, your team are here—get on the next boat.”
She turned back to Maol and her gaze drifted to Rodor. “A new sword?” she asked.
“I made it myself,” he replied. “Samuel showed me how.”
“May I?” she asked, holding her hand to take the sword.
He handed it to her, and she slid it from its scabbard. “You could have made it better with alchemy in a few minutes, I know, but—”
She frowned at him. “Where alchemy can be used the art of working hard to accomplish something is rarely appreciated,” she said, sliding the sword back into its scabbard. “It’s beautiful. Does it have a name?”