by Joe Ducie
We Three Kings
“I demand his head!” Morpheus Renegade growled. “My kingdom and realms will revolt if we allow Declan Hale, the Shadowless Arbiter himself, to go unpunished. His head, Faraday, or our alliance ends today.”
“I will ask you to remember whose territory you currently reside in, King Renegade. It is my law here.”
I had been brought before the entire court of the Knights Infernal and the ruling class of Ascension City. My arrival was big news, it seemed, and overnight envoys had been sent to the realms held by the Renegades—across the far-flung reaches of Forget. The lords of those lands had come themselves to ensure Faraday dealt with me.
I was happy to be wanted after being ignored for so long.
The ornate white chamber on the topmost floor of the Fae Palace, as vast as an ancient Roman pantheon, was cast in light from high arched windows amidst pristine pillars of marbled stone. Fancy as shit.
The Dragon Throne was made of black iron and set upon a crystal dais. Legend held that the throne was forged from the bones of an ancient dragon and sucked in the daylight like a possessed shadow. A part of me, and not a small part, heard the seat whispering my name.
I wasn’t handcuffed, which was a small mercy, but Fenton waited nearby. At least a dozen more Knights stood guard behind him, not to mention the Knights forming a perimeter around the edge of the throne room and in the aisles between the rows of benches. If I so much as sneezed without permission…
Jon Faraday, his hands clasped behind his back, stood on the dais alongside Morpheus Renegade. Faraday was a young man—barely thirty—of average height, but solid. He wore a coat that hid cords of strong muscle. Morpheus was older, pushing sixty. His face was lined with wrinkles, craggy canyons, under a buzz cut of peppery-grey hair.
“I will ask you again, Hale,” Faraday said. “What madness drove you back here? You were banished. To return covets death.”
“Shall I be honest, Jon? I missed you,” I said.
“The truth now.” A thin crown, a simple golden band, rested on Faraday’s shaven head. The circlet was inscribed with archaic runes, the indecipherable language of lost Atlantis.
“Because I have to be brave…” I muttered. “Because I never should have left.”
“You should have died,” Renegade said. He spoke as if his words should have been obvious to all assembled there. As if his truth was every truth. Perhaps it was. “How do you stand so arrogantly before us, casting no shadow as testament to your guilt? The weight of the crimes on your shoulders would crush any man with a heart.”
“You’re one to speak of hearts, Renegade. I’ll see you dead one day, old man.” I didn’t care that I spat those words. “If I were still a Knight you would not be welcome in this palace.”
“But you are not,” Faraday said. He strolled to his stolen throne and sat. “And your return creates turmoil within peace. Your welcome was revoked. Your titles and honors stripped. It is because of you the Story Thread frays. This is not a time of war, yet I see no other judgment here today than… imprisonment in Starhold, and eventual execution.”
“But he’s such a sweet boy.”
A soft voice, laced with hidden amusement, echoed across the vast hall. A thousand faces turned and beheld a woman in red wearing a porcelain facemask.
Amidst the mutterings of the assembled court, she strolled down the center aisle, between the rows of stone benches, and joined Renegade and Faraday on the dais overlooking the chamber.
Perplexed and wearing a mask of my own—one concealing a patient yet surly rage—I tilted my head and offered her a half-smile. Suddenly her true identity, and why she was here, came to me.
The Immortal Queen had entered the throne room.
“My lady,” I said. “Why do you hide your face? I’m sure to look upon your beauty would pierce my heart like a knife to the side.”
I couldn’t be sure, but I felt her grin behind that mask. “Declan Hale is many things, but his actions allow both our kingdoms to flourish in peace after a century of dark war. It would be remiss to forget the good he has done. The end to our century of conflict and the lives that have been saved since.”
I blinked. “Yeah, what she said.”
The Immortal Queen stared at me from behind her mask. Her gaze was hot and unyielding. Being on the receiving end of that look was a most uncomfortable and intense sensation. Within those eyes, I could sense such a vast and lonely breadth of time, like the distant stars. Perhaps hers was more than just a title. Perhaps she really was immortal.
King Renegade slammed his gauntleted fists together. “What purpose does he serve alive? I tell you, none. You let him live, you let him free, and what manner of dark, Voidish mischief will he wreak against us next, my love?”
“He is an arbiter of change, for good or ill.” The Immortal Queen stroked her husband’s cheek. “But perhaps you are right, Morpheus. Declan Hale is too dangerous to run unchecked.”
To my displeasure, I noticed Faraday seemed to actually consider those words. And here I was thinking I had more value alive than dead. Time to play my hand.
I cleared my throat. “Something is coming, fellas. And lady. Something… Voidish. I can feel it, creeping along my shadow. I dissuaded Voidlings from our realms once before, on the eve of the Degradation. When they try again you are going to need me.”
“Give me a better reason,” Faraday said. He rested his chin on his fist. “Well, Hale? You have more than earned execution. Breaking your exile alone was enough to ensure that. Half of Forget screams for your head, and the other half fears you. Those cries cannot go unheeded and your crimes cannot be pardoned. So what of it, Arbiter? Why will we need you?”
I gave the question more of my attention than it deserved. Once I’d dragged the moment out long enough, I stood up a little taller. “Well, I suppose I can unmake the Degradation, if you want.”
For a brief moment, anyone there could have heard a pin drop from a mile away.
Then the room exploded into screams and chaos.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
And Promises to Keep…
“Silence!” Jon Faraday, his voice amplified by Will, bellowed across the vast hall. The command echoed up into the vaulted ceiling and out over the wide balconies overlooking Ascension City far below.
After a moment, the hundreds of people assembled in the throne room regained some semblance of decorum. Soon the only sound was my soft, gentle laughter. Fenton and my guard seemed uncomfortable, and perhaps they sensed a sudden but inevitable betrayal. Good for them.
“Explain yourself, Declan,” Faraday said with harsh intensity, which was good to hear. For the first time, I’d unnerved him.
I’d been watching Renegade and his queen during my shock announcement. Of her, I could read nothing behind that mask, but save for a slightly raised eyebrow, Morpheus hadn’t seemed surprised. If anything, he looked satisfied. Perhaps I’d confirmed something he had already suspected.
“I can unmake the Degradation,” I said. “There’s a backdoor with a broken latch in the shield around Atlantis. I put it there, just in case.” Not entirely untrue. “I came back because I can no longer bear to see the Story Thread unravel. It is time to undo past mistakes.”
I was back to kill my murderer, whoever it may be, but only I knew that. What better way to draw them out than to dangle the greatest prize in all the worlds? Atlantis. Of course, if the future was to be believed then my actions, no matter what they were, led to a brutal death on the floor of my bookshop.
Knowing that was going to happen was perhaps enough warning to avoid it. Armed with a glimpse of the future I could change the past as I knew it. Such knowledge was what made the Historian so dangerous and respected. That made a strange kind of sense. I could only die trying.
“The Fourth and Fifth Legions battle alongside King Renegade’s forces on the Plains of Perdition,” Faraday said. “They surround the Degradation, Hale, but every day your blasted shield absorbs more of
the Thread, widening and consuming Forget. Every day creatures, monsters or worse, emerge from within Atlantis and pass through the Degradation without harm. If it can be ended, then end it.”
“Very well. I’ll need access to the Plains of Perdition, and room to work. Send four bottles of your finest scotch to my room, and I’ll get started.”
Faraday shook his head. “I think not, given the attempt on your life last night.” He glanced briefly at Renegade. “You will be imprisoned in Starhold until the path to Atlantis can be prepared. Our armies will scour the Plains and make it safe to work.”
Starhold.
The Forgetful prison.
Ninety per cent of the inmates had good reason to hate me, more so than the people of Ascension City. I’d put them there, during my days as a Knight. Faraday had to know that. He had helped me, before everything went to shit. Cuffed in Will-suppression manacles, I’d be unlikely to survive an hour inside the celestial jail.
“If it’s all the same to you, Jon, I’d rather not.” What game are you playing, you bastard?
The good king allowed himself an uncharacteristic smile, which had very little warmth. “A few days in holding should make you more amenable to aiding the course of peace and justice, Hale. Take him away.”
He waved his hand, and five Knights wearing full battle gear—armored chest plating and shielded facemasks concealing their identity—broke ranks with the rest and surrounded me. On each of their sleeves was the crest of Starhold—a six-pointed star above a spire of white stone—the Fae Palace.
These men were to be my jailers.
One of them produced a familiar pair of manacles and bound my wrists behind my back, good and tight. Bending my arms back pulled at the stitches in my side. If Emily could see me now… I missed her and her dancing. Seeing her smile a final time would have been worth the time to say goodbye.
Oh well.
I wanted to leave the throne room with a few scathing last words, but the fatigue enchantment was already making me drowsy. I yawned and winked at the Immortal Queen as I was dragged away and bundled into one of the elevators that hadn’t been torn apart by hellish demons last night.
I left the Fae Palace the same way I’d arrived: under arrest, in handcuffs, and via the landing platform on the very summit of the obsidian crystal spire. Another two Starhold Knights, pilots from the look of them, awaited us in front of a fusion-powered cruiser. They accepted the prisoner transfer and stuffed me into the back of the paddy wagon. I was alone and fighting sleep. The cruiser was devoid of windows, and I sat in weak luminescent light as the thrum of the engines powered up and shook the small craft.
The cruiser took off above the city, no doubt on a flight path to the affluent western quarters and the launch complex capable of sending a ship to Starhold—a fitting name for the Forgetful prison because it hung in orbit one hundred and fifty miles above Ascension City. Fighting the fatigue, I hadn’t given up just yet, but escape was unlikely. Escape into what? A city that hates you.
Coming back had been a mistake, of course, but it was the only move I’d had left to make. Staying away, staying out, as Marcus had urged, was pure folly. Survival lay in action—not in a dusty bookshop, talking to story characters only I could see. Perhaps I was mad. The thought had occurred to me more than once.
I banged on the panel which separated my cage from the cockpit. “What say we swing by Mickey-D’s and get some chicken nuggets?”
No response. With another yawn, I sat down and rested my head on my knees, trying to lessen the strain on my side from the tightly drawn cuffs. At some point, I must have drifted off to sleep, because I was suddenly jolted awake by the bump of the cruiser landing.
The door slid open on silent hydraulic hinges, and bright sunlight filled my holding cage. I squinted against the glare to allow my eyes to adjust, but I already knew something wasn’t right.
We’d not arrived at the Starhold processing complex. We were not even in Ascension City. We had landed on the banks of Lake Delgado, thirty miles from the sprawling metropolis. Slick rifles in hand, my pilots stood dark and imposing against a backdrop of snow-capped mountains and a glittering, silver lake.
Two quick thoughts came to me: I was either being rescued or murdered, more likely the latter, given my current track record back here in Forget. One of the masked pilots stepped toward me and pulled the cover from his face.
From her face.
“You almost look surprised, Hale.”
Clare Valentine produced a key and unlocked the star cuffs.
“What can I say?” I asked. “High treason against the crown suits you, sweet thing.”
Clare took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “You’re too pretty for Starhold. They’ll eat you alive up there.”
Was Clare a part of Faraday’s unseen plan? I honestly hoped not, but this escape seemed far too easy. Still, escape it was—and without any bloodshed.
Small mercies.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Lonely Tonight
The other pilot removed his helmet and offered me a sly grin.
“Ethan?” Now I was surprised. “Oh, come on. Really?”
Ethan drew a pack of cigarettes from the pocket on his chest armor and lit up using a Willful thought. He took a long drag. “Hey, boss.”
“What are you doing here?” No, poor question. “How did you… do any of this?”
“The kid here jumped at the chance to journey to Forget,” Clare said.
“Half a week ago you knew nothing about this world. Now you’re flying Starhold cruisers?”
He shrugged. “Miss Valentine did most of that. I just… wore the uniform.”
“Come on, time for this later.” Clare gazed up at the sky. “If they don’t already know you’re missing, they will soon. I disabled the tracking beacon in the wagon to buy us some time.”
Clare set off at a steady pace along the shores of the lake, her boots crunching squeaky sand underfoot. Ethan stamped out his cigarette and took off after her. I followed at the rear, wincing as every step pulled at my stitches.
“I take it you have a plan?”
“A plan?” Clare asked, glancing over her shoulder. She stuck her tongue out at me. “No, I thought I’d make this up as I go along. You know, the Declan Hale special.”
“There’s a method to my madness.”
“That remains to be seen.”
“Sophie’s here,” Ethan said. “With the big fella and the… other big fella. Marcus and Aaron.”
“I’m liking this more and more,” I said. “Are we heading to his villa?”
Without looking back, Clare nodded. “Marc’s waiting for us with a boat just around the bend in the shoreline up ahead. He’ll take us across the lake.”
Across the water, nestled between two mountains, was the town of Farvale. A mini-city, really, half-buried inside a pine forest. A long time ago, before I’d met Tal, Clare and I had snuck away from the Academy on a weekend and had gotten stupid drunk in that town. A lot of the recruits did—when we needed to get away from Ascension City and the Academy’s brutal training regime.
How times change. Farvale was home to about twenty thousand people, if memory served. A good place to hide for a day or so, just on the outskirts in Aaron’s home.
Marcus was waiting for us in an idling speedboat, a sleek silver craft with a sharp nose and matte finish. We splashed into the shallows and scurried aboard the vessel. The large man nodded at me once before gunning the throttle and launching the boat across the water. The boat ran swift and true as Marcus guided it along the outer rim of the lake.
Allowing myself a moment to rest properly, I held my head in one hand and my side with the other. No one spoke on the quick voyage. Marcus veered well to the right of Farvale. We passed other pleasure craft and tried to attract as little notice as possible. Something about the ease of my escape nagged at the back of my mind, but regardless, I expected to see those old familiar Wanted posters before too long.
> Marcus shot straight for a small but homely-looking row of villas on the eastern shore of Delgado. He eased off on the throttle as we approached a private dock and came to a dead stop alongside the pier. Tying off the boat, we stepped ashore.
A majestic and proud hawk landed on my shoulder. The bird was mindful of its claws. “Chester,” I said, greeting an old friend. “You been taking care of Aaron?” Clare and Ethan took off while I waited for Marcus to finish powering down the boat. Perhaps they sensed the same thing I did—that the giant man was pissed.
All seven feet of him hit the jetty hard and advanced on me.
Marcus grasped my arm and pulled me one staggering step to the side. Chester took flight with an indignant squawk.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I asked.
“I warned you to stay away, to let it alone. And now look? It’s you, Hale. It is always you. They follow you because you promise such… such wonder. You promise adventure in return for such cruel, bitter loyalty. And they end up dying for you!”
“I didn’t ask you to pull me out of the fire, friend.”
“I am not your friend. I’ve kept an eye on you during your exile, making sure you didn’t do anything stupid… but here we are again. You are going to get Sophie and Ethan and Clare killed.” He shook his head. “And what’s worse is they don’t see it. The poison you carry.”
Trust Marcus, until he gives you a reason not to… A dead man had told me that, on the floor of my shop.
“We can’t allow Morpheus Renegade—or Faraday—to seize what’s in Atlantis. I don’t know how, but I think they’ve figured out how to get at it.” I rubbed at my stinging side. “It’s why Tal and I did what we did, Marc. The Degradation. Why the better option was to let the Reach burn along with half of Ascension City. Genocide was better than letting anyone seize what we found in Atlantis.”
“What could possibly be so important?”
A ghost of a smile flickered across my face. “The Infernal Clock.”