Chapter Thirty-Three
Through all this time I had been waging constant war. Right after conquering Daymony, now the Daymon Republic, I declared war on their neighbors in Delavie, which I justified through the ancestrally contested lands they had fought over with Daymony for thousands of years.
As a side note, I also found out the Delavian Dukes had sex with goats. Seriously, goats! The lot of them. They’re goat buggers. They invited me to join in, the sick bastards.
Anyway, Frey had a treaty with Hamahra to back each other if one of us went to war with Delavie. Frey thought my declaration of war was unjust, however, and pulled out of their treaty. I made sure to plan something special for those oathbreakers, especially their young Head Matriarch, Quallandra. You’ve probably heard about my affair with her, and the rumors are true, but Quallandra only consented after I had promised her marriage and an alliance. She did it for the sake of her kingdom.
* * *
Daylen flew the Maraven through the sky buoys with the patrol ship alongside. The buoys directed all ships entering the city to the Capital Skyport. The city below had a wide path walled off that had no buildings or people within. It mirrored their path. This way if anything accidentally fell from a skyship while it flew over the city, it wouldn’t harm anyone or cause property damage. This was yet another policy that Daylen had instituted. Skyships hadn’t been as prominent in his youth, but he had known their use would just continue to grow, and that provision needed to be prepared in the city’s infrastructure.
Ships could obtain permits to fly freely across the city, of course; and the smaller the ship, the fewer the restrictions.
Although dwarfed by the four greater islands above, countless sky sitters and sky islands floated in the air, some on the same level as the Maraven. Light, he could look right through the windows of the closer ones.
“Where’s that snot disappeared to?” Daylen asked. “I thought Sain would like to see the city up close.”
“Maybe he wishes to avoid being seen by the authorities.” Ahrek nodded to the patrol ship escorting them. “He is a former pirate, after all.”
“Good point,” Daylen replied as he adjusted one of the control levers.
It wasn’t long before the Capital Skyport came into view, and what a view it was. Essentially, the Capital Skyport was an enormous square, over five hundred meters to each side, framed and pierced by large structures of timber, stone and brick making up the countless warehouses, skyship hangars, and company offices. Each building that bordered the port was at least five stories high with a few skyscrapers among them.
Hundreds of straight broad roads ran into the main square of the skyport with two additional roads stacked above. All were built of stone with darkstone foundations so that they simply sat in the air.
Those roads, called wharfs, had hundreds of triple-stacked piers sticking out on either side like the teeth of a comb. Buildings often stood where the piers met the wharfs, all of them at least three stories high, lining up with the roads.
Daylen had designed the docks to be modular so that they could be added upon as the need arose, which they had. Because skyships could stay in place permanently once they’d locked anchor, most piers had another two built atop, matching the levels of the triple-stacked wharfs. This meant that a skyship could simply dock above another, multiplying the space that could be obtained, and more could be built in the future. Each individual set of docks that was built on top of another was called a stack.
The docks were not equal, however. There was one set of wharfs that had much longer piers sticking out, which were spaced farther apart from one another with a single level stacked atop the first. Daylen recognized that set of wharfs with its larger docks to be the First Harbor, reserved for the larger shipping companies, freighters, and the few cruise ships.
Daylen couldn’t help feeling a surge of pride at seeing how one of his works had grown in grandeur over the years he had spent in exile. It appeared that his designs were working perfectly. One more good thing he could leave the world, though he would never be remembered for it. His crimes overshadowed everything else in his life.
Pulling his gaze from the glorious port, Daylen continued to guide the ship through the buoys until coming to the line of ships that waited on the skyport’s traffic controller.
The traffic controller was a man who stood on a floating platform and directed the ships coming in to a specific harbor. He would judge each ship according to size and the capacity of the harbors on that specific fall and use flags to convey messages.
Luckily, Daylen only needed to follow the patrol ship and they flew over the line straight on in. The patrol ship guided them to the First Harbor. Special treatment indeed, considering the Maraven was a small trader.
A soldier standing on the deck of the patrol ship called out, “Dock One, Stack Twelve, First Wharf.”
Daylen frowned, wondering why it should matter which dock they used. Knowing which harbor to dock in was important, but after that any free dock on that specific harbor should have been fine. But then Daylen remembered that there were always a few docks reserved for suspicious arrivals, and the patrol ship didn’t know why they had been called in for an escort, of course…except that those reserved docks would not have been in the First Harbor, especially the docks so early in the stacks.
“We’re expected,” Daylen said.
Ahrek glanced at him. “What do you mean?”
Daylen tilted the ship so they could see the dock they were headed toward and pointed. “The stacks usually fill up in order, as the first ones are closer to the port’s sides. Easier to unload cargo. Every stack before and after twelve is taken, which means someone’s been keeping it clear.”
“Yes, I see,” Ahrek said. “Our destination would have been logged in Treremain’s skyport well before we left.”
“Yep,” Daylen said. “Apparently the authorities are far more determined to get their hands on me than I thought. I bet there’s at least a squad of constables waiting for us.”
“Then I suppose it’s a good thing you’ve already decided to turn yourself in.”
“Yeah,” Daylen said, though he still felt uneasy about all the obvious preparation that had been made for him.
Daylen guided the ship into the lowest dock of the stack.
The stacks in the First Harbor were built to accommodate large freighters, so the Maraven, with the Bloodrunner under it, fit easily within the dock’s borders.
The patrol ship locked anchor in the dock above them.
Daylen walked to the left of the helm to glance down at the pier they sided.
Sure enough, there were two squads of constables waiting there. “Time to face the sun,” he told himself before walking to Ahrek.
As they made their way to the stairs that led off the helm, Daylen heard the door that led below deck open.
It was Sain. Daylen reached him a second later.
“It’s best if you stay out of sight for a while,” Daylen said, nodding to the pier they sided. The Maraven’s main deck sat just a little above the level of the pier, and because they stood on the far side of the ship, they couldn’t be seen by those who stood on it. “There’s a heap of conners over there who’re going to be asking a lot of questions. I think you should avoid any close scrutiny considering your past acquaintances.”
Sain nodded anxiously. In fact, the boy looked flushed.
“You all right?” Daylen asked.
“Yeah,” Sain said, scratching his green-streaked purple hair, which looked a little more disheveled than normal. “It just…umm, the conners, you know.”
“All right, we’ll see you in… Well, I don’t know how long this is going to take. You better get below.”
Sain nodded and closed the door behind him.
Daylen turned to Ahrek. “I trust you’ll see to the girls and sort out the salvage claims. I have a feeling I’m going to be occupied.”
“I’ll see it done and meet you at the
constabulary.”
“Don’t bother waiting around for me—this could take a while. Once you’re done here, head to a hotel named the Fallton.”
“If you’re going to meet me, why at a hotel when there’s plenty of rooms on the ship?”
“Which are all cramped except for the captain’s,” Daylen pointed out. “Besides, the skyport isn’t exactly central, and there’re too many eyes here. I’ll be staying at the Fallton whether you head there or not.”
“Very well.”
“Try and get one of the penthouses if you could.”
“A penthouse?” Ahrek said with a raised eyebrow. “I’m not particularly inclined to such extravagance.”
“Would you just do it? It’ll be much easier to find you in the penthouse if we get separated than it will in the hundreds of other rooms. It’s not like we can’t afford it.”
After a moment, Ahrek replied, “Very well,” and followed Daylen as they lowered the gangplank.
As Daylen stepped onto the pier to meet the constables waiting for him, a powerful feminine voice called out from his left. “Daylen Namaran!”
Daylen turned to see two Archknights approach. One was clearly a Tuerasian man like Ahrek, but this one was a born-and-bred prig, as evidenced by his impressive physique and bare chest. The other knight was a beautiful middle-aged woman with dark-green hair that had a strong line of crimson running through a long plait. There was something powerfully familiar about this woman, but Daylen didn’t know why. He was also extremely annoyed at himself for not realizing that the Archknights who had been tailing him in Treremain would have followed him here. I’m such an idiot!
“You are hereby under arrest for murder, assault, and impersonating an Archknight,” the female said harshly.
Ahrek looked to Daylen in disbelief. “You impersonated an Archknight?”
Daylen shrugged, saying embarrassedly, “Eeeh yeah, maybe.”
“Why would you do that?”
Daylen rolled his eyes. “That’s the charge you have an issue with?”
“I know you’re innocent of the other charges!”
“Careful, he’s a master,” one of the conners announced, looking at Daylen’s mark.
They all drew their shooters and pointed them at him.
“My actions were justified!” Daylen called out. “It’s explained in every blackened paper in the city!”
The female Archknight interrupted, “Small claims trumped in the papers don’t clear you, pretender!”
“Hey, I was protecting people!” Daylen growled back.
For some reason, the woman flinched at that, her face looking vulnerable for just an instant, but it was long enough for Daylen to recognize her—and his gut sunk.
“Lyrah…” he said in sorrow.
She hesitated. “H-how do you know me?”
How could Daylen answer that? He should have no idea who she is.
Lyrah’s expression suddenly hardened. “It doesn’t matter. You’re under arrest!”
Letting the authorities take him was one thing, for they would eventually let him go or he could escape. But the Archknights could properly detain him against his will, as they had the same powers he had. They’d make sure Daylen would never leave their sight for the rest of his life. Yes, he would join them eventually, but on his terms, and when he was ready.
“Sorry, not this fall,” Daylen said, getting ready to increase his mass and soar away.
He was then struck by lightning.
It had come from the Tuerasian knight—he had stretched out his hand and shot a blackened bolt of lightning at him!
It hit Daylen in the chest and it was like his heart had just been pounded by a hundred industrial hammers. Daylen was knocked backward at least twenty meters down the pier where he crashed, rolling to a stop.
Every bond instantly switched to healing.
“What under the Light do you think you’re doing!” Daylen heard Ahrek demand.
“This doesn’t concern you, Bringer,” Lyrah said.
As the healing neared completion, Daylen began to get to his feet but a hand grabbed the back of his jacket. It was the muscled Tuerasian again, and he was strong—but nothing compared to Daylen once he used his powers.
Daylen was about to switch his bonds and give the prig as hard a knock as Daylen had just received, but the Archknight pressed a black marble of some sort to the back of his right hand, which he held with two fingers.
Suddenly, all the light Daylen was drawing in couldn’t be channeled into any of his abilities; it was being sucked back out of him and into the marble, he could feel it. Daylen tried, but couldn’t channel the light into anything, for as soon as he drew it in that black marble pulled it out. Then Daylen felt heavy; really heavy. It came in a wave and he struggled to remain on his hands and knees. Then the weight seemed to double, and Daylen was crushed to the ground, barely able to move.
It was gravity. The gravity on him had been increased.
This Tuerasian, this Archknight, he could do things that Daylen had seen certain other Archknights do in the past, but that Daylen himself couldn’t. As he’d suspected, there was a lot more to lightbinding than he knew.
“If you fight more, it will be worse,” the knight said in a thick accent, simply holding the marble on Daylen’s palm.
Judging by the glove that the Tuerasian wore on the hand that held the marble, it would affect him as much as Daylen if it touched his skin.
Daylen stopped drawing in light, as it was achieving nothing. Interestingly, at the very moment he did this, the stone that the Tuerasian was holding to the back of Daylen’s palm pressed down with twice as much force. It hurt!
Thanks to that, Daylen knew exactly what it was. Darkstone. Daylen drew in light again to let the stone suck it back out, relieving the pressure. The light it sucked out of Daylen acted on the darkstone exactly the same as regular light, pushing it on that plane. That’s why the Tuerasian was holding it on him the way he was, letting as much natural light touch the stone so that it wouldn’t lock.
Darkstone nullified lightbinding when touched, apparently. Well now he knew, and because of that he knew exactly how to get away.
Even with the massive gravity crushing him, Daylen managed to slide his left hand along the ground, edging it toward the Tuerasian knight.
“You still fight? You must see that you have lost.”
“I—don’t—lose!” Daylen said, and triggered the darkstone dagger in his gauntlet. It sprung out and stabbed the knight in the side of his foot. Daylen’s weight returned to normal as the darkstone nullified the Tuerasian’s powers. Daylen snapped the dagger off from his gauntlet, which it was designed to do, and pulled his hand out from under the Tuerasian, who was growling in pain and frustration.
The Tuerasian lifted his foot and reached for the dagger. He shouldn’t have been able to do that, as the part of darkstone in his foot was shielded from light… but he was a Lightbinder. The dagger was sucking the light out of him and therefore still had uniform light on all sides, unlocking it in space. The knight would be able to pull the dagger from his foot like it was a normal blade, something that normal people couldn’t do. Darkstone weapons were usually very nasty.
Before the Tuerasian could do anything, Daylen sprung up and kneed the knight in the face with enhanced strength. The Tuerasian fell back, flinging up blood from an obviously broken nose. He landed on the ground, knocked out completely.
“Shoot me with lightning, you blackened little prig!” Daylen spat, and the command to shoot was given to the constables,
Several shotspikes pierced him.
Such wounds would kill a normal man, but with Daylen’s healing at full they didn’t even make him flinch.
Then he was punched in the side of the face.
It was the female Archknight, Lyrah, and Light, was she strong! No, more than strong; the bottom side of Daylen’s face caved in, bones crushed to powder, and he was knocked a good five meters off his feet. This, to
o, would have killed him if not for his healing powers, which Daylen suspected the knight knew of, for it had been such a severe blow that it would take a good few seconds for him to recover. It took a lot of force to take down someone who could lightbind, or Daylen’s kind of powers at least, for the Tuerasian’s brand of lightbinding didn’t seem to include healing. The Tuerasian remained still in the ground where he had fallen.
Daylen was very grateful that his healing ability reacted automatically in these cases.
Unfortunately Lyrah had already jumped toward him, her fist back ready for another blow.
Oh, Light, this is going to hurt.
Then she stopped midair, like an invisible force had grabbed her.
“That is enough!” Ahrek’s voice called out in fury. He turned to the constables. “Put those away this instant!”
His voice echoed with such authority that the constables lowered their shooters.
Light-blessed light, thank you, Ahrek, Daylen thought as his face healed.
Lyrah struggled against her invisible bonds, her arms and legs kicking out, but her waist remaining perfectly in place. She glared at Ahrek and then slowly drifted down. The moment this happened, Ahrek strained in difficulty.
She’s increased her mass, Daylen realized.
Ahrek reached into his robe and the tension in his face left as he pulled out a sunstone, clearing surging from it to increase the strength of his power.
The woman reached for a pouch, but Ahrek flicked his hand and the pouch was ripped from her belt. It hit the ground, spilling sunstone marbles along the dock.
Daylen got to his feet, his face finally having healed. Light, it had hurt.
“What do you want us to do, Lady Archon?” the constable lieutenant asked.
“Leave this to me,” Lyrah growled.
Ahrek nodded to Daylen, and he got the message. He was about to jump away when Lyrah stretched out her right hand. Light burst from it in a line, forming a huge yellow sapphire two-handed sunforged warsword that was easily as long as she was tall with a blade as broad as two hands.
Shadow of the Conqueror Page 35