Last of the Chosen (Spirit of Empire, Book One)

by Lawrence P White

  The Empire is counting on you, Val. So am I, he heard in his mind. He reached for his pad, unfolded it, and sent out a query. Daughter’s meeting would take place at the district governor’s mansion. The published agenda called for her to receive the gifts soon after her introduction to the ambassadors. Checking the time, Val realized he had less than an hour before she arrived. He desperately needed to get cleaned up. His shirt and shorts were covered with blood, as were his arms, hands, and leg.

  He pulled out the Knight’s cape and unfolded it. The blood was drying, and the cape’s black, shiny material would soon just look dirty to the casual observer. He drew the cape about himself and closed the clasp at his neck. Made for a much larger person, the cape hung poorly, nearly reaching to the ground. His scrawny leg was barely visible. He felt odd, and he probably looked odd, but it was the best he could do. His one foot was bare, he didn’t own any shoes, but it was too late to do anything about that either.

  He used his pad to call for a taxi, deciding to squander a little of the Knight’s funds. The taxi arrived quickly, and Val keyed in an address a few blocks away from the governor’s mansion. The taxi rose and skimmed the tops of the buildings in a straight line for its destination. He had ridden in taxis occasionally when deliveries demanded, and the rides always thrilled him. Other vehicles crossed his path, clearing with scant meters to spare, but Val gave it no thought today. Instead, he considered methods. The best plan he could devise was to scout out the grounds and find a way to sneak inside. It wasn’t much of a plan, but it was simple, and it played to his skills at remaining invisible.

  When he left the taxi, he fell into his routine of a one-legged beggar and made his way toward the mansion. The cape tended to billow out, and he had to use his free hand to hold the cape closed about his waist. After a time, it dawned on him that Knights would use the cape not only for formal occasions, but for warmth and shelter from the elements. It probably had clasps down the front. It did, and he felt a bit chastened as he fastened one at his waist. In just a short time, however, he became too warm and wondered what the cape was made of. Was there a switch to turn on the air conditioning? He had no idea, though it would not have surprised him had there been. He just accepted being hot. Hot was better than arrested, and the clock was counting down in his mind.

  As he turned a corner and came into the square in front of the mansion, he stopped with a gasp. Never before had he seen so many police. He didn’t even know there were this many police on the planet. Literally shoulder to shoulder, the line stretched the full six blocks along the fence on this, the east side of the mansion. Worse, through the fence he could see Imperial Marines patrolling the lawns and flower beds between the fence and the mansion. The grounds had four sides, each six blocks long and fenced, and he knew without checking that there would be no gaps in the security cordon. Suspicion edged into his thoughts, and he looked up to the sky, gasping again. An enormous military frigate and two fighters hovered a few hundred meters above the city. The fighters were just small disc-shaped ships, but the frigate looked like a multi-level building, pointed at the front and wide at the back. Short barrels bristled from open gun ports, meaning the ships were prepared for instant battle. Daughter must be traveling with a full squadron, he decided. The cruiser and the rest of the support ships would be patrolling nearby space. He’d seen frigates before, though never a cruiser. He yearned to join with any of those grand ships, but now was not the time for such thoughts.

  He had to find a way into the mansion. Were there underground entrances? He had no idea. He pulled up a schematic of the mansion on his pad, but plans detailing the infrastructure were restricted to official access only. He considered returning home, Mr. Wyzcha always had answers for him, but then he remembered. Mr. Wyzcha was dead.

  Crowds filled the streets, most headed for the mansion. Val weaseled his way through them until he neared the main entrance, where he stopped again in surprise. Bleachers had been erected for spectators, creating a corridor over a hundred meters long at a right angle to the building and its surrounding fence. He guessed the corridor was for Daughter to walk in procession. High walls of a clear material, probably glassteel, lined both sides of the corridor in front of the bleachers. He weaseled his way through the throngs, then climbed several levels into the bleachers to get a better view. The transparent wall went all the way through the gates of the mansion and up to the front entrance. He could see no way through or around it.

  He worked his way out to the open end of the corridor. Some fifty guards stood in three ranks enclosing the opening, and a dozen or so policemen patrolled nearby. He didn’t think he could approach any of them without getting arrested.

  He pursed his lips. Find a way, the Knight had demanded. Only there was no way. Val closed his eyes, thinking hard. How do you get into a place like this?

  Only one solution presented itself to him. Through the front door, of course, and without the subterfuge he was so comfortable with. There would be nothing secret about getting through this front door. Not today. He hung his head, sensing defeat.

  He would have to confront the police and use the Knight’s credentials. At the very least, someone would have to listen to him. He singled out a lone policeman with his eyes, a frog-like creature from Hesport, and approached him. “Officer! I have information concerning a security breach. I must talk to someone in charge.”

  One eye swiveled toward Val while the other continued screening passersby. “Go away, kid,” the policeman croaked.

  “Sir!” Val demanded. “I’m serious. Daughter’s life is at risk.”

  Both eyes turned to him. “Kid, you are talking to someone in charge, and I’m not going to let you cause a ruckus here today. Keep it up and you’ll find yourself hauled off to the station. Do I make myself clear?”

  Val reached into his pocket for one of the Knight’s Pins. Before removing his hand, however, a Voice spoke to him.

  >No, Val! You get only one chance with the Pins. He is not the right one. Find another.<

  Val turned away from the policeman, a demand for assistance dying in his throat. His eyes searched the crowd. Who had spoken to him?

  As always, eyes avoided him, darting away lest a connection be made even for a moment. Few willingly made eye contact with one-legged beggars, even young ones such as he.

  But someone had spoken to him, and that someone knew his name. Was he hearing things? Then he wondered if the Knight, though dead, somehow had a way of helping him. Could the Knight’s spirit be talking into his head?

  >No. Sir Jarl is dead,< he heard clearly. >So is his Rider, Artmis.<

  Val shuffled through the crowd, huddled within the Knight’s cape, confused. The Voice was so clear!

  “Who are you?” he whispered.

  >I’m your Rider.<

  “My . . . what?”

  >I’m your Rider. I know you heard me. You can’t not hear me. Pull yourself together, Val. Sir Jarl gave us a job to do, and time is short.<

  “He gave me a job to do. Who are you? Where are you?”

  >We don’t have time for this. Don’t you know what a Rider is?<

  “Vaguely.”

  >We’ll discuss me later. Daughter will be here any minute.<

  “No! We’ll discuss you right now. This is impossible.”

  >I know what you’re thinking, but don’t worry – you’re not going crazy. I won’t let you go crazy. Why do you think Sir Jarl asked you to hold him just before he died?<

  “He wanted comforting. I gave it to him.”

  >He wanted a lot more than that. It takes a while for a Rider to make the transition from one host to another. Sir Jarl’s Rider died with him, and it was forced to fission way too quickly. I don’t think I got the full measure of his memories, but I got enough for the moment. We need a plan.<

  Val considered the words, then blinked with understanding. “You’re inside me?” In a louder voice, he shouted, “And you’re a baby?” Several people in the vicinity looked at
him oddly, so he moved away.

  >Yes, I’m a baby. And like I said, I didn’t get the full package. Look, you don’t have to talk out loud. You’re attracting a lot of attention. Just think what you want to say.<

  Val blinked, then shook his head. He didn’t have time for voices right now – he was out of time. He stared at the governor’s mansion in dismay. The dead Knight had commanded him to get inside, but there was just no way. Police and Imperial Marines patrolled every inch of the grounds inside and outside the fence. The only entrance was here, a corridor of glassteel panels some 100 meters long with bleachers lining each side. The panels effectively sealed off the corridor from bystanders, including Val.

  He crutched over to the bleachers and weaseled his way up to the fourth level. When he turned to look down on the corridor, he hung his head in defeat: the glassteel panels went all the way to the entrance of the mansion without a break. There was no way for him, a lowly beggar, to enter the governor’s mansion on this very special day.

  A line of private limousines landed at the open end of the corridor to his left. A woman stepped from one of the cars, and six Great Cats immediately flanked her, padding around her on all fours with their eyes on the crowd. The cats must be her Protectors, Val decided. He’d glimpsed Great Cats before, though never in this number. Only the rich and powerful could afford their services. The Great Cats he’d seen before had almost certainly been Guardians, not these elite Protectors. The Queen’s daughter would have nothing but the best.

  Val stared at her, mesmerized. Dressed in an elegant, full-length, emerald gown, a delicate crown flashed from time to time in her tightly bound hair. Her face held a sweet smile as she waited for the district governor and the visiting Imperial Senator to complete their welcomes, then the procession began its long walk down the corridor. The crowd, too, must have been holding its breath because it was silent until she waved, then it broke out into cheers of welcome.

  She proceeded slowly down the corridor, waving alternately to each side, the smile never leaving her face. As she neared Val, he got a better look at her and gasped. He’d expected an old woman, but with sparkling eyes, this woman radiated energy and youth. She seemed far too young for the power she yielded. How could someone so young be the final court of appeal? And according to the Corvolds who had met with Sir Jarl, she already had quite a reputation. She had done this before, many times. She was of the Royal Family, and she was here on Hespra III, one settled planet out of hundreds of thousands sprinkled across the galaxy. How amazing!

  His mind refused to focus on the duty given him by Sir Jarl. He had eyes only for the beautiful princess. Her smile captivated him, seeming sincere, real.

  >It is real,< the Voice in his head stated. >She truly loves her people. It is, after all, the people who continue to call the Chosen to their duties.<

  “The Chosen? I’ve heard the term, but I don’t really understand it,” Val whispered.

  >Among all the trillions of citizens of Empire, only the Chosen possess the Talents our people demand of its highest leaders. One of those Talents is that she reads minds, Val. Using her Touch, she can determine the truth of every individual she Tests, a key aspect of the process she follows in resolving disputes. This Talent is found only in the females of her family, and of them, only a few pass muster and are Chosen. Another trait of the Chosen is that they cannot lie, ever. Don’t ask me why – I don’t know – but it’s true. Don’t ask one of the Chosen to lie. It just can’t happen.<

  Val blinked, focusing his thoughts. >This one won’t be leading much longer if we don’t stop the Horlig. I have a plan.< He reached into his pocket for Sir Jarl’s blaster.

  >No, Val!< the Voice said in panic.

  >I’m out of time! I’ll get her attention, then they’ll have to listen to me.<

  >You’ll be dead, and so will I. Do you know what a Protector is?<

  >I’ve heard tales,< he thought to the creature, his hand still tight on the blaster. >I hear they’re pretty good.<

  >Pretty good? Pretty good? They’re the deadliest creatures in the Empire, and they’re smart. More than that, they believe in the Royal Family. They’ve sworn to protect the Royal Family at all costs, and I speak not only of these few, but of their whole race. You will not succeed in our mission if you’re dead, and if you die, she won’t be far behind.<

  >They can’t shoot me through the wall.<

  >They won’t have to. I’m certain they can leap over it.<

  >Do you have a better plan?< he thought angrily.

  >No. I just know this one won’t work. Trust me, Val. I know what I’m talking about.<

  He did not want to trust this Voice, but he understood its demand for caution. He had only one chance to do the right thing. He watched the procession disappear into the mansion and wondered at the events of his day. In the span of an hour he had met a Knight of the Realm and now Daughter, the person who might one day become Queen of the Empire. He took a deep breath, then made himself focus on the mission Sir Jarl had given him.

  At any cost, Sir Jarl had said. Whatever the cost, the mission must succeed, and quickly. She was in the building, and he only had minutes before the crystals would be presented. He had to find a way through the security, then he had to find a way past her Protectors. Sir Jarl’s assignment seemed impossible.

  Val made his way through the departing throngs climbing down from the bleachers, refusing to let his thoughts focus on the impossible. >So how much do you know about all this?< he asked the Voice.

  >Specifically, about as much as you do. However, my father passed on a lot of other information to me. You know, palace intrigues and all that. I’m not sure how relevant they are at the moment.<

  >Then what good are you?<

  >Riders ride, Val. We don’t control, ever. I’m a source of information to you, and I can offer guidance, but it is not in my nature to control. What information can I provide?<

  >We have, at most, fifteen minutes. I have Sir Jarl’s pins, his cape, his money key, and his blaster. Besides that, I have one leg and a crutch. As a person, I don’t exist. These are the things we have to work with. You must know something about security. How do we get past it? How would Sir Jarl have gotten in?<

  >He would display his emblems of rank, and he would know the passwords.<

  “You know the passwords?” Val demanded aloud in astonishment.

  >There are probably three: one for the police, one for the district governor’s security, and the last known only by Daughter and her team of Protectors. Sir Jarl’s knowledge is outdated. He knew only the last, but it will work with the Protectors.<

  Time was short. Val made a decision, and he didn’t sense any dispute from the Voice. >Do you know what I’m thinking?< he asked.

  >I do. It’s risky, but it might work. I do not have a better suggestion.<

  Without further delay, Val pinned the Knight’s Pins to the cape, one on each side of his throat. He pulled his crutch into position and asked, >How do I look?<

  >We look terrible, but we’re out of time. You’re her last chance, Val. You have to be a real Knight if this is going to work. I’ll help in any way that I can.<

  Val didn’t respond. He just started forward, acting as he envisioned Sir Jarl acting. Sir Jarl’s cape helped. Heavily soiled with dried blood, it lent credence to his need for a crutch. He moved as if the crutch was new to him. His face still looked like a sixteen-year-old face, and that concerned him. He pulled the hood over his black, unkempt hair, partially concealing his features.

  >How much can you do? Can you make me look like I’m wounded?<

  >You already look wounded. What more can I do?<

  >I need to look older.<

  >I can give you a few years, probably not enough, but people usually see what they expect to see. As a further distraction, I can help you struggle.<

  >Okay, just don’t overdo it. Make my voice deeper if you can.<

  The first policeman he approached straightened to attentio
n as he passed, though a questioning look filled his features. “Sire?” he asked.

  Val stopped and turned slowly to face the policeman. In a labored voice he said, “I could use some help here, officer. Will you attend me?”

  “Of course, Sire. What can I do?”

  “Just clear the way for me. I’ll manage the rest on my own.”

  “Very well, Sire. Would you like me to call for a lift?”

  “No. Time is of the essence. I can’t wait.”

  The officer preceded him to the entrance of the mansion, then stopped. “I can go no further, Sire.”

  “Yes, you can.” He approached a mansion guard, an Imperial Marine, and stated, “This officer will accompany me. I’m in a hurry.”

  “Very well, Sire,” the guard stated. “The password?”

  Val paused. “I’ve forgotten. Can’t you see I’m wounded? Take me to her Protectors. We have a special understanding. Let them decide.” Val peered hard at the guard. “Her life rests in your hands, Marine. Make the right choice.”

  The marine paused, then turned to the policeman. “You lead the way. I’ll follow.” To Val, he said, “Sire, I will not hesitate to fire if I sense the need.”

  Val cleared his throat, coughing roughly into his fist. “I know you won’t, and she counts on that. You’ve chosen well. Now . . . her life is at stake. I must attend her immediately. Move out, soldier.”

  “Very well, Sire.”

  Val hobbled through corridors, and it wasn’t long before he approached a crowd of soldiers outside a small doorway. A Great Cat stood on each side of the door.

  >This will be a little harder,< the Voice said.

  >Then it will be harder,< Val thought to the creature.

  A Great Cat left its position beside the door and padded toward Val and his two escorts. “I do not recognize you, Sire. Please identify yourself.”

  >How do I do that?< he asked the Rider.

  >I don’t think you can. A true Knight would open his Knight’s Pin. Inside the pin is an image of whichever Chosen called the Knight, but only the Knight to whom the pin was bestowed can open it. You are not that person.<