by E. C. Jarvis
“Empress,” Larissa said as she stopped a few paces away from the throne, her eyes filled with tears which did not fall. She slid one foot behind the other and dipped her head as a respectful gesture. Holt felt his face soften. She was trying to follow the protocol; it was a good approach.
“Stop that,” Covelle said to Larissa. For a moment, the room fell flat and the expansive space became oddly claustrophobic. Larissa paused, halfway through her curtsy, looking up at Covelle with a confused expression. “You do not bow. It is below your station.”
Larissa glanced between Covelle, the Empress, Elena, and then her gaze finally settled right back on Holt. She stood upright, then opened her mouth to speak. Instead, the Empress arose from her throne and spoke first.
“I have heard a good many things these last few days. That Daltonians are about to wage war. Their President wishes me and my people dead. My sister and my daughter almost died when a warship attacked the vessel carrying them to safety in secrecy, only for them both to be rescued by pirates who subsequently infiltrated Eptora in the search for the source of Anthonium. And that all of these things were linked to a female pirate captain who is also a legendary Rifar, in control of a feline Rifarin.
“Then we have the engineer who made an airship fly without the need for hydrogen or helium.” She gestured toward Cid, who was shoved forwards. “Of whom my own sister has grown quite fond...” She passed a sideways glance at Elena. “A Daltonian Colonel, one of the President’s highest commanding men who was captured and held prisoner by the pirate.” Kerrigan was shoved forwards to stand beside Cid. “And at the same time, the archaeologist whom my father was foolish enough to trust and allow into Eptora, who claims he is the rightful ruler of our enemy nation, wishes to bargain with me over his claim to have finally discovered the ancient secret to the power of Anthonium.”
The Empress tapped her fingernails against the gilded arm of her throne, looking everyone over. Holt gritted his teeth again. If he weren’t restrained, he would jam a knife in Covelle’s neck, throw Larissa over his shoulder, march her out of there, and not look back. The Empress gave a slight wiggle of her fingertips, and in an instant, guards spilled out of every orifice of the room, tripling their numbers and surrounding the group entirely.
“I think it would be best if I simply lock you all away to save my people from any more of your meddling madness.”
As the collection of guards moved forwards to restrain them, Covelle shifted his position. He swung towards Holt and plunged the syringe deep into his upper arm.
Chaos descended. In the erupting noise, Holt heard screaming—Larissa’s shrill screech pierced his senses until it was overtaken by his own deep shout of pain. The room faded from view, the fire burned in his body, and he blanked into total darkness.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Larissa fell to her knees, narrowly avoiding the clutches of Scowling Face as he swung to grab her. The disorder disintegrated in an instant. As she looked up at Holt, she realised why. He had disappeared. Every person in the room stood, mesmerised by the sight—or lack of it.
A sick feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. Had she really just found him, alive and in one piece, only to lose him again in an instant? She stood up, not caring if anyone wanted to grab her—she could jab the best of them in the eye—and moved up to the cross upon which Holt had been bound. She reached out, discovering that the chains were still in place, bound around thin air. She reached out to touch where one of his arms had been and recoiled when she felt him there.
“He is still there. The Anthonium has given him the power of invisibility, as you can see. The chains are made of Anthonium also. If it were not for them, he would be able to slip away freely.”
Her father’s voice grated on her nerves. She stared up at the blank cross, knowing Holt was there but unable to see him, and her heart ached with every beat.
“That is quite the trick.” The Empress appeared at her shoulder and reached out with a long, perfectly manicured finger to prod at the blank space where Holt’s torso had been, or still was. “As is that.” The woman pushed her finger past Larissa’s nose and drew her attention down to the ground where Imago crouched in a defensive position at her side, poised and ready to attack. There was no doubt from the terrified looks on the guards’ faces that the appearance of her cat was what had stopped them in their tracks. More so than the disappearance of a restrained man.
Larissa chewed on her lip, torn between asking Imago to stop or commanding him to kill. She spotted Cid and Kerrigan nearby, both giving her confused and incredulous looks. Even if Imago could have attacked the plethora of guards surrounding them, she didn’t want to risk Cid getting hurt in the battle. Even Kerrigan deserved better in her mind.
Her vision fell away as her mind regressed inwards. The back of her neck burned as she realised her father stood behind her and that he, more than anyone, was responsible for all the mess of events since the beginning. For the first time, she felt glad her mother was dead.
“What have you done to him?” she asked, refusing to face the man.
“I’ve given him several doses of pure Anthonium, to show what happens in the extreme. Usually, this degree of change takes years. Unfortunately, the speed of dilapidation is also expedited.”
She felt a soft hand grip her arm. The Empress of Eptora held her firmly, pleadingly. “Please, your creature,” she whispered.
Imago still crouched, facing the guards. “Imago,” Larissa whispered. His ghostlike form shimmered and his ear twitched in response. “Tell your guards to stand down, and he will most likely disappear again,” she told the Empress.
“Most likely?”
“Well, I certainly wouldn’t recommend they come any closer.”
Yet another delicate wave of the hand was enough gesture to make the guards back away and, as Larissa had expected, Imago shimmered out of view.
“So, you people have succeeded in breaking into my country and undermining my authority. Tell me, what precisely is it you want?”
“I just want to leave.” Larissa sighed. The chains on the cross clinked a little. “All of us, alive.”
“No,” Covelle barked from behind. The Empress turned and Larissa was compelled to do the same. “I have not spent my entire life living in this Gods-forsaken country, working my fingers to the bone, putting myself through incomprehensible hardship just for you to throw it all away on a request to go home.”
“Then tell me, Solomon,” the Empress said, “what is it that you want?”
“I am the only man in the world with the true power to end the hostilities between our two countries.”
“Hostilities you manufactured,” Kerrigan said. This time, his guard did not answer him with a thump in the back.
“Indeed. The wheel is in motion, regardless of how. You could kill me, kill us all, if you wish, though killing my daughter may prove troublesome, as you have seen. If I die, the secrets of your ancients die with me. All my work has been destroyed. What remains intact remains in here.” He pointed to his head, tapping it a few times.
Larissa spotted something odd on his rolled-up shirt sleeve—a hand-sewn letter G. She felt her blood run cold as she recognised the design.
“I am perfectly willing to share my knowledge with you, as I always was. In exchange, you will announce that Eptora will cease all attacks on Daltonia if the correct dynastic bloodline is restored to power and the President publically beheaded for his crimes against both nations. Together, we can forge a new age of peaceful coexistence. I only want what is rightfully mine, for myself, and for my descendants.”
The Empress said something in response. Larissa watched on as the two of them chatted together, calmly, quietly debating the proposition as though they were a married couple discussing the details of a vacation. The words faded from her mind, faded from all reason. She was a vigilante pirate captain. She was a survivor of some of the worst physical and mental heartache anyone could dare to imagine. She was a wom
an in mourning for two lovers and the loss of her friends. She was a clothing retail clerk. She was a poor girl, living in a damp house with no hot water. She was a child whose father had disappeared, turning her mother to a sobbing wreck, nothing more than a shell. She could not be a descendant of Emperors. She could not be a Rifar with magical healing abilities and a protector spirit creature. She could not be all the things her father had seemingly intended since the beginning. She was just a girl. The only thing she truly wanted now was invisible and pinned to a cross.
“We can travel by airship,” Covelle said, his words snapping her back to reality.
“Not by the ship in which you entered the capital. It was crewed by pirates. They have been taken to the lower dungeons and will be hung. I still have no proof that the formula you claim to have discovered will work.”
Solomon pushed his sleeves up past his elbows and presented his forearms. The tanned skin was feathered with white hair and small pink scars. Larissa studied the sight. The scars were all over, and as she looked at his face, even his neck contained a number of pink scars.
“How do you think my daughter, a girl who has never come into contact with Anthonium until recently, has the skills of a Rifar? It is in her blood.”
“Bastard.”
Larissa jumped a little as the singular insult came from over her shoulder—a husky, familiar voice. She turned slowly to see a shimmering grey outline reappearing between the chains on the cross, then Holt returned.
“Holt,” she whispered.
“You have the power here,” was all he said in response, his dark eyes holding her gaze.
“I wish to speak alone with you,” Larissa said as she turned to the Empress.
“I will not let your friends walk around my palace.”
“Put them back in the dungeon,” Larissa said, giving Cid and Kerrigan an apologetic look. “All of them,” she added as she saw her father giving her a sour glare.
The Empress gave a nod to the remaining guards nearby. Two of them restrained Covelle, though an odd, wry expression spread across his face. Cid and Kerrigan made no attempt to fight as they were shoved back out.
“What of this one?” the Empress asked, pointing at Holt.
Larissa looked back to Holt. She wanted nothing more than to grab him and never let go, or perhaps they could run off to an airship, take off together, and never look back. The solemn look on his face said he did not share her desire to run off and live happily ever after. At least not yet, perhaps not ever. A painful heartbeat caught in her chest. She tucked away the tears wanting to fall, along with the ache inside, placing them neatly into a box marked Do Not Open and shoving it right into the back of her mind.
“He needs medical attention,” she said carefully.
“I’m not sure my doctors can treat him for whatever has been done.”
“I will be fine in the dungeon,” Holt said, effectively dismissing himself.
“Very well.” The Empress waved to a guard, who came and unfurled the chains, letting Holt drop from the cross, though the chains remained around his arms. Holt was marched past; Larissa noticed his pace was slower than usual and his face seemed thin and drawn. Another painful heartbeat thumped in her chest. She wasn’t prepared to watch him fade away like the Professor.
“Your honest approach will work best,” he suggested as he passed, still training her in his unique manner. She felt the pull of a small smile on her lips as she watched him leave the room, and then, once again, he was gone.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Saunders leaned his shoulder against a wooden lamppost. The light from the orange flame above encircled him and Sergeant Boswell as they stood staring at a large pair of locked doors attached to a dilapidated warehouse.
“Shouldn’t we be hiding in the dark, LT?” Eddy asked as he too leaned against the lamppost then awkwardly shifted as their shoulders rubbed together.
“How will they know they have customers if we’re hiding?”
“Good point. What kind of place only does business after midnight?”
“The kind of place that sells an airship we can afford and doesn’t ask questions as to why we want it.”
“And how can you afford an airship at all? Surely a Lieutenant’s wages aren’t that much higher than a Sergeant’s?”
“They’re not. I have savings.”
“Put away for a rainy day, eh?”
“It’s supposed to be for a wedding.” Saunders sighed and shifted his weight to his other leg. “Becky wants to get married in a Citadel, and it seems the Gods need to charge a lot of gold for that privilege.”
“I guess she won’t be too happy to hear that you’ve blown all your savings on a crazy mission, then? Making the Colonel a higher priority than her big day?”
“She’ll have to wait a little longer. This is important. Too important.”
“I just hope your cousin thinks the same when I come to blow off romance for the sake of career.”
“You’re planning on pursuing her still?”
“Do I have your permission, Sir?”
“Sure, I look forward to watching you fail time and time again. Just don’t come whining to me when she cuts off your favourite parts.”
Eddy gave out a deep chuckle which degraded into a snort. In reality, Saunders didn’t want him anywhere near his cousin, even though she was more than capable of deflecting unwanted advances. He’d specifically asked Eddy to accompany him, leaving young Simms behind to act as Sandy’s lackey. He figured Sandy would get much more done with Simms around. If Eddy had stayed behind, she’d have to waste half her time defending against his lechery, even if it was only playful and not sinister. Their time was already precious enough.
The large warehouse doors shifted and screeched as a gap emerged in the middle. A head full of bushy brown hair popped out, followed by a muscular, tattooed arm beckoning toward them to come forward.
“Here goes,” Saunders said as he pushed off from the lamppost, heading into the darkness to cross the empty street.
They stepped in, and the warehouse door screeched shut behind them. Inside was pitch black. Saunders squinted, hoping his eyes would adjust to the light level, but there was nothing to see. He laid his hand on the pistol tucked into his belt, feeling the familiar need to be ready for anything, the training kicking into gear. He knew Eddy would be doing the same. Though he couldn’t see his comrade, he could smell the familiar scent of tobacco-laced clothing at his side.
Nearby, a match was struck to life. The yellow flame revealed the face belonging to the man who’d opened the door. The light disappeared for a moment, then Saunders’ vision returned as a lantern flickered to life.
“I’m Gordo Cain, proprietor, owner and vendor, unless yous twos are Enforcers, in which case I’m just a bum who sleeps here at night. So, state your names and businesses.”
“Our names are not relevant,” Saunders said. “As to our business, we are here to purchase an airship.” He let out a silent, shaky breath. In the corner of his eye, he could see the incredulous look on Eddy’s face. No doubt, he could manage to pull off a suspicious back-alley deal with the flair of a natural. Perhaps he should have let Eddy take the initiative, but it was his savings he was about to squander away on a shady plan, and the thought of handing such a responsibility to Eddy made his bones shake, good friend or not. He scratched at the itchy fabric of his hastily purchased civilian trousers. They were dressed as naval merchants; the scruffy, poor-fitting outfits made him nervous.
“Well, yous come to the right place.” Gordo beamed a crooked-toothed grin at them from beneath his big, brown, frizzly beard. The beard seemed to stretch all the way to the top of his head, where the hair was longer in places and stuck out in all directions. He lifted the lantern and walked past half-built structures and haphazardly stacked ship parts.
As the shadows danced around them, the light illuminated farther ahead, and a more complete ship came into view. It was smaller than Saunders had hoped f
or and obviously knocked together from different parts. His breath caught in his throat when he saw a plank of wood nailed to the side at a jaunty angle. Inscribed into the wood in military standard font it read RDS Falcon. He suppressed the irritated grunt wanting to escape from seeing pieces of the ship turned to scrap and treated in such a disrespectful manner.
“This is the only one I’ve got ready. There’ll be another in a few weeks when they pull more of that ship from the Hub. I’ve got three other parties interested in this beauty already, so if yous want it, yous better take it now.”
“How much?” He felt Eddy jab him in the ribs.
“I can get a better one than that in Sallarium,” Eddy said, “whatever the cost.”
Saunders felt his hands balling into fists. What the hell was Eddy doing? They didn’t have time to go to all the way to Sallarium City and start this whole process again.
“No, no, Sirs.” Gordo gave a peculiar bow and tapped the ship with his hand. “She’s a fine vessel, the finest you’ll find. Go aboard, have a look for yourselves.” He lifted the lamp beside a rope ladder and gestured for the two men to climb up.
“What are you doing?” Saunders whispered to Eddy when they both reached the deck.
“Negotiating,” Eddy said with a smirk. “That’s why you brought me along, isn’t it?”
“I asked you to come because I didn’t want to subject my cousin to an evening of your lechery.”
“I think she likes me.”
“I think she wants to cut your baby-maker off.”
“She’ll change her mind once she sees it.”