by CM Raymond
The two of them were so strong, it made Gregory feel useless. Everyone had a skill, some ability or insight that let them help the team. It’s how they contributed. So far, he had offered next to nothing.
More than once it had struck him that his family line was the only contribution he had to offer. He couldn’t fight, and he could barely do magic. He was no good at lying, or spying, or influencing people in any way. He couldn’t even cook. There must be something I can do, he thought.
And then, as he saw Parker and Sal playing tug of war with Parker’s spear, an idea struck him.
“Hey, Karl,” he turned and called across the room to the rearick, who was focused on lighting his after-dinner pipe.
Karl glanced up over the cloud of smoke that was quickly forming. “Huh?” he grunted.
“When you’re coming back from the Heights, do you think you could grab me a few pounds of amphoralds? I have some money—I’m not really sure how much they cost.”
“Don’t you worry about it, lad. If we make it there and back, I’ll get ya whatever you need. What are ya cooking up?”
Gregory grinned. “A surprise. You’ll see.”
“Suit yourself,” Karl said. He settled into smoking his pipe and watching the flames flicker in the Great Room’s fireplace, leaving Gregory alone to think through the logistics of his new idea.
Hannah dropped on the couch next to him, disrupting his mental checklist. “So… about this ball.”
“What about it?”
She shrugged. “Everything about it, I guess. It’s not exactly something I’ve read up on.”
“It’s an Arcadian tradition,” Gregory said. “They’ve been throwing the Winter Ball since before I was born. There are all kinds of parties, but a lot of people say that my parents host the best one in all of the city. Most of the nobles come, including Adrien and the Governor—most years at least. And then it’s a pretty standard ball.”
Hannah forced a laugh. “Ah… a standard ball, like we had most days in the Boulevard.”
Gregory flushed. “Right. Sorry. Everyone dresses up—most have new clothes made for the occasion. The women especially work damned hard to outdo everybody else—although, the men all strut around like peacocks, too. It’s part party, part pageant.”
Hannah scrunched her nose. “And what do you, well… do?”
“At the ball? Good freaking question. It’s mostly eating and dancing. A good bit of gossiping goes on. The students are the worst. They all drink a bit too much and try to hook up. I remember walking in on a pair in a back bedroom when I was just a kid. Saw more than I wanted to, that’s for sure.”
Hannah laughed. She had never seen someone so awkward about sex as Gregory.
“And lots of dancing,” Gregory continued. “Which is what makes it a perfect time for us to break into my father’s study. Everybody in the house is so worried about themselves and how they’re carrying on, that nobody will even notice us, let alone our absence for a few minutes. It’s a great cover. I’m not skilled enough to get past my father’s locks, but you are. The ball lets me bring you in without any suspicion, and there’ll be so many people there, my dad will not know who’s to blame.”
“Is that how you ask out all your dates, Sir Gregory?” Hannah cooed.
He turned a darker shade of red. “I mean, it’s not a real date. It’s just...”
She tussled his thick dark hair. “Relax. I’d be honored to accompany you to the Winter Ball.”
Gregory smiled. “This has got to work, Hannah. If we get caught breaking into my dad’s office, my father will kill me.”
Hannah laughed, nearly doubling over.
“What?” Gregory asks, embarrassed.
“Gregory, if we get caught, your father will be the least of our worries and killing won’t be just a matter of speaking. You know we’re committing treason against Arcadia here, right? We get caught trying to take down Adrien and whatever he has planned, we’re done for.”
His face turned grave. After a moment of silence, he nodded. “I get it. There will be no turning back then.”
Hannah took his hand in hers. “It’s not too late, Gregory. We will understand if you can’t do this. But if you are going to leave, leave now. I can’t worry that you’ll back out in the middle of the ball.”
Gregory considered the penalty for rebellion. Stomach turning over, he nearly lost his dinner right there in the living room. But then his mind turned to thinking about all that Hannah had told him—about her people, her brother. The distinct sense of purpose that flowed through him weeks ago returned, and he felt elated all over again.
“No. I’m in. I’ve never had any idea what my life was for. Like I said, I’ve always felt like a bit of a waste. But with you—with this plan—my life has meaning. I’m in. Don’t worry. I will die if I have to.”
His words inspired Hannah, and her eyes grew glassy. She nodded. “You are more meaningful than you know. And the plan will work. It’s nearly perfect.”
“Nearly?”
“Yeah,” she smiled. “There’s only one major flaw.”
Gregory furrowed his brow. “What’s that?”
She pointed to herself. “I have no freaking clue how to dance.”
Gregory nodded toward Karl, who had fallen asleep in his chair. “Maybe he’ll teach us,” Gregory said with a smile.
The thought of the old burly rearick dressed in formal wear and dancing at a ball was too much, and the two couldn’t contain their laughter. Finally, when they calmed down, Hannah said, “But seriously, who’s going to help me figure this out?”
“Ahem.” They turned to see Maddie standing in the doorway. “I believe this is an area where you need my expertise, Miss Hannah.”
“Maddie,” Hannah said. “Do you know how to dance?”
The girl grinned. “Damn right I do, and I can teach you.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
As Karl pulled the tarpaulin over Parker in the back of the cart, he whispered, “Stay the hell down, lad.”
He drove the mule toward Arcadia’s gate, the cart wobbling behind. The mule was a skinny old thing, nearly as old as the rearick, but it pulled hard. It seemed happy to be getting out of the city.
There was much to fear beyond the walls, but the biggest threat was that the Guards might catch Karl trying to escape with a fugitive. In that sense, the load he pulled was deadlier than a band of hungry remnant.
“Hey, Karl,” a familiar Guard at the gate called to him. “Come on through.” The man waved him around the line trying to leave the city with a grin.
“Aye, Matthias,” Karl smiled. “Thank you. Always took a long time to get into the city, always got out quicker than I could squat and shit.”
Matthias attempted to rub heat into his arms as he laughed. “Damndest thing, right? Makes our work twice as hard. With that witch bitch running around and the bastard from the Boulevard, the Governor has us keeping an eye out, making sure nobody sneaks through.” He glanced at the cart Karl was hauling. “But what the hell you doing leaving? I thought you were pulling guard detail at the factory.”
“That was the plan, but I got word from the Heights that me ma isn’t doing so good. Thought I better get back and check on her.” He nodded at the cart. “Figured I’d bring some supplies back with me.”
“Shit. Your ma’s still alive?” Matthias asked. “She must be tougher than you.”
Karl grinned. “She sure as hell is tougher, but not quite as pretty.”
Matthias laughed and slapped Karl on the back. “Travel safely, friend. See you soon.”
Karl grunted and thanked the man before pulling out.
Just as he was clearing the gate, Matthias called out to him. “Hold up a second, mate.”
Karl spun to see him jogging in their direction.
Shit, he muttered under his breath. He reached his hand around and gripped his hammer, just in case.
“Hey, I know you’re good, but be safe out there. More remnant sightings r
ecently than there’s been for years. Traveling alone might not be the best idea.”
Karl nodded. “Thanks, Matthias. That’s sound advice. But I’ll be fine. Been doing this half my life.”
The Guard patted the magitech weapon at his hip and looked over his shoulder. “I could get in trouble for this, but you interested in borrowing some fire power for the journey?”
Karl laughed and patted the hammer slung at his hip. “Now, that would just offend my girl here. I’ll be fine—and when your number’s up, it’s up. Magitech or no.”
Matthias nodded and retreated to his post. Karl exhaled.
The first step was done.
****
As evening approached, Karl and Parker’s shadows grew longer, pointing east toward the Madlands. Bare trees spotted their path, reaching skyward out of the frozen ground like sun-bleached skeletons. The air was dead still, and the silence sent a chill up Parker’s spine.
Nighttime in the wild was nothing like evening in the city, and Parker wasn’t ashamed to admit that he was damned glad he had Karl by his side.
“We should get to that stand of trees easily before dark,” Karl said, pointing into the distance. “Plenty of time to set up camp.”
They gave the mule and cart to a farmer living near the city. The only payment they asked for was that the farmer took care of it—and kept his mouth shut about where it came from. They would make the rest of the trip on foot.
“How many times have you walked this route?” Parker asked as he scanned the horizon.
Karl started counting on the fingers of both hands before he gave up with a shrug. “Let’s just say I know it better than I know my own ass.”
“That’s a fairly accurate accounting system,” Parker laughed. “You’ve seen it bad out here?”
Karl nodded. “Aye, we’ve hit some rough spells—especially in the early days. But the last ten years have been a breeze, ya know?”
Parker laughed. “Hell, I don’t know. I don’t know shit about anything outside of Arcadia. I can even get turned around in the Noble Quarter, to be honest. I’ve done a lot, but it’s all been in a very small world.”
Karl scratched his chin. “Well, welcome to a bigger one. I can tell you all about it. This passage was bad right after the Founder ended the Age of Madness. Hell, I was only a kid then myself, but I’ve heard plenty of tales. Back then, this place would have been crawling with the Mad. They’d eat your heart and screw your corpse—if you were lucky. Unlucky and they’d screw ya first. Lowland warriors and some of us rearick worked together to push the remnant back into the Madlands, to the east. We tried to exterminate the brutes but the Madlands sheltered them enough. For a while, folks even lead expeditions into the Madlands, trying to reclaim remnant territory. But most of them ended in failure…”
Karl got quiet after that, and Parker wondered if the rearick had stumbled onto something personal. He didn’t know much about his traveling companion, but he certainly seemed experienced as a fighter.
That kind of skill didn’t come without sacrifice.
They walked in silence for a little, but Parker wanted to hear more. He was riveted by the tale. He had heard next to nothing about the history of Irth outside of Arcadia. “Did the Arcadians help fight the remnant?”
Karl laughed. “Arcadians? Nah. Truth be told, there wasn’t much of an Arcadia in those early days. Mostly it was folks in the country. Stout mothers who could kick ass all night and wake up to farm the next day and brave men willing to risk their lives so their people could live better. Most of em didn’t have a wall to hide behind.” Karl walked in silence for a few strides, then continued. “But those were people raised in the Age of Madness—fighting was bred into them from day one. No offense to you, kid, but today’s generation of lowlanders don’t know dick about survival. They’re all soft, with their magitech and their fancy city. Don’t get me wrong, I’d be happy to fight alongside Ezekiel and Hannah any day. Hell, you’re even going to be a good hand in battle if we live long enough to see you trained proper, but we need an army. Not a bunch of kids and peasants from Arcadia. Nothing good will come of that approach.”
Parker jabbed Karl in the shoulder. “Screw you, short stuff. We’ve got a lot of fight in us. Growing up on the Boulevard, it may not be fighting off the remnant but it teaches you grit. Don’t underestimate our potential.”
Karl grinned and shoved Parker hard, knocking him to the ground. “Takes more than potential, kid.”
The rearick laughed as Parker rolled over in the dust, and reached down to give the kid a hand up. But Parker was ready. He grabbed Karl’s hand and pulled, planting his foot on the rearick’s chest. It gave him enough momentum to catapult Karl overhead. The older rearick hit the ground hard.
Parker’s speed allowed him to gain his feet first and he grabbed the spear and pulled it free from the sling on his back. He aimed it at Karl, who was scrambling to get up.
Parker grinned ear-to-ear. “I’ll show you some fight.”
Pulling his hammer from its sling, Karl spun it in an arc with such speed that the tool blurred before Parker’s eyes. It slammed into Parker’s spear, the force ripping it from the young man’s hands. Parker watched in awe as his spear tumbled helplessly to the ground. Karl grinned, teeth showing beneath his bushy mustaches. “I told ya before, kid, it’s gonna take more than tricks to make a fighter out of ya. But, since yer so full of energy and potential, why don’t you pick up your spear and I’ll teach you how to use it proper?”
****
Doyle rode atop a massive stallion, constantly in fear that the beast would buck his rein. The attendant had never been much of a horseman, but now he rode in front of an elite unit of the Arcadian Guard, trudging toward the Frozen North on a secret mission. The thought would have filled him with pride if he wasn’t so damned terrified.
The sound of the crunching snow under hooves filled the air, and he pulled his cloak up high to protect his burning cheeks from the whipping wind and snow. He wasn’t much of a winter person either, and he dreamed of his warm, fire and magitech heated home in the Quarter.
It was cold, damned cold.
Three-days ride had gotten them to Cella, and now the group was only a day outside of the foothills. The Frozen North loomed overhead. Despite his fear and discomfort, the Chancellor’s assistant was trying his best to enjoy the hard journey. Out here, away from Adrien’s presence, Doyle was the one in charge—and he loved it. He had always fancied himself a leader but had little chance to prove it under Adrien’s thumb.
Now he called the shots.
The previous night they had bedded down in Cella, the last chunk of civilization between them and the cold mountains. They were on a mission—sent by Adrien himself to retrieve a piece of ancient technology, buried in the snowy peaks—the final component that the Chief Engineer needed to complete Adrien’s weapon.
An airship, the ultimate show of power, had been Adrien’s dream for decades. And while previous Chief Engineers had managed to design a craft strong and light enough to withstand that kind of movement, it was Elon who finally uncovered the missing link, buried in records from the old days, before the Madness overtook Irth.
An engine, strong enough to lift buildings into the heavens.
It sounded like myth to Doyle, and more than once he wondered if Elon was bluffing, a desperate act to delay the inevitable. Adrien demanded success and took in flesh what his servants couldn’t achieve in results.
But Adrien believed Elon, and now Doyle was placed under the same pressure. If Elon had lied or miscalculated, if they had been given bad intel on its location or if it was buried under a ton of ice—or if time had simply destroyed this strange device as it had most everything else from the old days, then Doyle knew it would be his head to pay.
Fool’s errand or not, he needed to get it done.
Doyle was smart enough to know that he was a terrible magician. His gifts had always been administrative in nature, which meant that he cert
ainly had no right exploring a place unfit for human habitation. The Frozen North was famous for its unpredictable weather and treacherous passes. And that morning, as he lay in a warm bed in the charming little city, he considered sending the rest of the men—a half-dozen in all—ahead with Stellan to complete the task at hand.
If he had been honest with himself, he knew that they would likely stand a better chance without him.
Nevertheless, he packed his things, bundled up, and left the warm Inn for the ride across the tundra. While the mission could end in death, failing and returning to Adrien would yield a far more terrifying result.
And besides, he had to keep an eye on Stellan.
Adrien was certain that there was a mole inside the Academy or the Capitol. For some reason, he had focused in on Stellan and Dirk and Dietrich—his two sidekicks—based solely on the fact that they returned with nothing to report from their last mission to the Mystic’s Temple. It seemed thin to Doyle, but there was no way in hell he was going to tell the Chancellor that. If one of them was a plant, then the Frozen North would reveal it—surviving there took skills that couldn’t be faked.