by J. P. Wagner
However, late in the morning, a servant came into the antechamber where they were waiting with numerous others, to announce, “Lord Carrtog of Nandycargllwyd and Lady Adengler, Her Majesty will see you now.”
They rose and followed the servant.
The princess had always dressed in clothing that showed her youth; as queen, however, she dressed in a manner to demonstrate maturity. Her expression was grave as they entered and bowed, but then she smiled.
“A good day to you both, Lord Carrtog and Lady Adengler. I hope the day finds you well.”
“Very well, thank you, Your Majesty. As you can see, I have brought Lady Adengler with me and there is a nest of bandits that is no more.”
“I’m glad to hear of that, Lord Carrtog. Good news is in somewhat short supply, these days.”
“My condolences for your loss, Your Majesty. Of course, the war is now ended, though the cost was severe.”
The queen’s expression saddened, then she regained her composure.
“When you last passed through here, I spoke about my father’s concerns. With the news of his death, I also received a last letter he had written the night before the battle. In it, he declared his intention of proving himself to all on the next day.”
She paused. “Everyone says he died leading the charge that won the battle. I had already found that being daughter to the king means that every bit of news coming to me is shaded to prevent giving offense; you can imagine how much more so that is now that I am queen. However, I had already made acquaintances who were willing to tell me something closer to the truth.
“The fact is that the battle was already won when he led his charge. The rebel leader had already fallen to a random shot across the field, and the rebels were beginning to break. But someone among the rebels apparently fired one last shot before fleeing, and given the range, it was probably only bad fortune that put my father in its path.
“So, most of the soldiers saw only the king leading the final charge against the rebels and demonstrating his courage for all to see. For my part, I would prefer to have my father alive, with all his faults.
“But I am allowed only a short time to speak with mere friends, no matter how valued; my time must be spent on meetings that will hold the realm together, often enough only smoothing the ruffled feathers of this lord or that. Before you go, what can I do for you?”
“Nothing, Your Majesty; we had only stopped to offer our condolences.”
The queen’s face grew grave. “I must tell you that someone has already seen it necessary to inform me that you have left your post to go rushing back into the interior of the kingdom. I have let it be known that you have gone with my approval, to rescue the Lady Adengler, an old and dear friend of mine. Of course, someone may indeed find the nerve to point out that my approval appeared to have come after the fact.
“On the other hand, your record in Kilgarhai speaks for itself. No accusation of slighting your task will stand. You may have to defend yourself against personal attacks, but you need not fear Royal disapproval.”
She smiled.
“Thank you, Your Majesty.”
#
Some six weeks later, they were once again in Waliauchel, by the Queen’s invitation.
“Well,” said Yakor, “They don’t seem to be in mourning any longer.”
Addy looked around. “No. But then the queen has invited us, and most likely everyone of any importance, to tonight’s victory celebration. They could hardly stay in mourning for something like that.”
“No,” agreed Yakor.
“It does seem that they’ve gone out of mourning a bit soon, for having lost a king,” Carrtog mused, his arm firmly around his wife’s waist.
“Not really,” Addy said, “Six weeks is reasonable. Especially given that the queen is taking over and has to show that she’s in charge. There will be a good many lords giving out not-so-subtle hints that the realm would be better run by a man and offering themselves as possible husbands. And she isn’t going to want to accept any such offers, since she knows that would mean relegating herself to the position of wife of the ruler, possibly even eventually dying of some ‘fever’ or other.
“No, don’t look at me like that, Yakor, you know very well that I’m right! She’s going to have to show that she’s in charge and doesn’t need some man to stand behind her, or eventually in front of her, to legitimate her orders.”
“No, Lady, I agree with you. She’s probably spent much of the last six weeks sounding out various lords to see where they stand, if they’ll support her or not. I’m a little surprised she hasn’t sent some message or other to Lord Carrtog.”
“She probably hasn’t, since she most likely sees him as one of her supporters already.”
Yakor smiled. “We can certainly hope so.”
#
Four days later a mounted messenger from the palace, wearing a tabard in the royal colors, appeared at their door. “A message from Her Majesty to Lord Carrtog of Nandycargllwyd.”
“I am Lord Carrtog.”
The messenger presented the scroll, and stepped back.
“Thank you. You may tell her Majesty that the message has been delivered.”
“Actually, sir, my instructions are to bring back any message you might wish to send in return.”
“I see.” Carrtog broke the seal on the scroll, and unrolled it.
He read it quickly, then read it again, then looked up.
“Her Majesty wishes to speak to us this afternoon, just before the celebration commences, on matters of great importance to the nation.”
He looked around at them, then at the messenger, and said, “Please tell Her Majesty that we will wait upon her this afternoon at five o’clock, according to her desire.”
“On behalf of Her Majesty, I thank you, Lord Carrtog.”
When the Messenger had gone, Carrtog looked at Yakor and said, “Well, I believe this will be the occasion for Her Majesty to ask for my support for her reign.”
#
A little before five, Carrtog, Adengler, and Yakor were waiting in an antechamber of the palace for the queen’s summons.
They had already discussed the possibilities of the meeting in private among the three of them. Here, with servants nearby and quite possibly willing to supplement their income by selling private conversations to anyone willing to buy, they kept their talk to such things as possible uses for the sort of balloons they had used to track the rebels.
“To make them large enough to carry any amount of cargo, they would have to be enormous, and the production of the hot air to allow them to rise, with that cargo, would require some kind of fire. Those small heat-producing stones we make would have to be so much increased in size as to add an extreme weight to the thing.”
“So it’s impossible, is it?” inquired Yakor.
“No, not impossible, just a matter of great difficulty. There’s also the matter of making it go where we want it to go, not merely depending on the winds. That difficulty is increased by the size the thing would have to be, which would mean that the wind would always be pushing on it.”
“For someone protesting that it is not impossible, just a matter of great difficulty, you are doing a very good job of lining up more and more difficulties,” said Yakor with a large grin.
“If one begins with a list of difficulties to be overcome, one encounters less surprises on the way to success,” replied Carrtog with an only slightly smaller grin. “Actually, the notion of moving air around has led me to think that gliders might be more useful for the task of carrying cargo. I’ve already worked out some—”
The door opened and a servant stepped in to announce, “Lord Carrtog, Her Majesty will see you and your party now.” They rose and went past the servant, who announced them.
They all knelt, but the queen almost immediately said, “Pl
ease rise. I hope the day finds you well.”
“Quite well, Your Majesty.”
“Good. I have been told that gossip says that this evening’s celebratory ball will involve various awards to people who have served well in the recent war. As is often the case, gossip has a good deal of truth at the foundation.
“In your particular case, Lord Carrtog, the award is not only for your service in the war, but also for your prior service to me, personally. I know that my father rewarded you for that when he was alive, but now that the power is in my hands, I can and will give you a further reward.
“Since I am led to understand that you have an interest in various things mechanical, I shall be awarding you the position of Artificer to the Crown. The position will come with an annual purse to fund your researches, with the proviso that at least some of your researches shall always go to the betterment of the realm.
“I shall also grant you an increase in your lands, for any researches you care to undertake which cannot be clearly shown to benefit the realm.”
She smiled. “I’ve been told that many a research project is undertaken merely to satisfy curiosity, and actual benefits may only show up later, if at all.
“I hope this will be pleasing to you.”
“Very much so, Your Majesty!”
#
The wind whined through the wire struts supporting the glider’s wings, large wings to support the large body capable of hauling significant cargo.
Carrtog had already cast the spell to produce the continuous wind against the lifting edges of the wings, and now that he was airborne, he could cast the spell that would continually nudge the craft forward in the direction the nose was pointed.
For a whim, he tilted the craft so he could see the small figures lining the hillside. The queen and a number of her advisors, all in the fanciest dress they could manage, were watching the test flight of the glider named Queen Ellevar’s Enterprise.
A very well-kept secret was the fact that Queen Ellevar’s Enterprise had already been thoroughly tested. Carrtog had no desire at all to suddenly discover, in the midst of showing off his new invention to the queen, that there were faults in the design, which would change the initial flight to a disaster.
Two pylons had been set up miles apart. His goal was to do five rounds for this first test. There was another group of advisors up at the far pylon to testify that the glider had indeed traveled the whole distance on each round.
It was a well-known fact that certain of the queen’s advisors were antipathetic to Carrtog and would find against him for the slightest reasons, perhaps even no reason at all.
On the other hand, it was also well-known that Lord Carrtog stood high in the queen’s favor, so an advisor would have to be very determined to go against that fact.
He completed his fifth round, at which point he dipped his wings as a salute to the queen, then carried on to do a sixth, unnecessary, round, just to make sure.
He landed and rolled to a stop near to the queen and her party, which included Addy, Aderyn, Yakor, and Gryff. As the glider settled into silence, he could hear the shouting. Most of it would be cheering of course.
He slid out of the glider, and walked over to the queen, saluting as he came, but as always his eyes were mostly for Addy.
# # #
About the Author:
J. P. Wagner was both a sci-fi/fantasy writer and a journalist. While his editorials and informative articles could be found in publications such as the Western Producer and the Saskatoon Star Phoenix, Railroad Rising: The Black Powder Rebellion is his first published novel.
A self-proclaimed curmudgeon, but known to his family as a merry jokester, his words have brightened many lives. Sadly, J. P. Wagner passed away in 2015 before the publication of Railroad Rising: The Black Powder Rebellion.
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The Red Wraith
By Nick Wisseman
Magic awakens in Early America. The Red Wraith is born.
On the eve of the Harvest Ceremony, Naysin, a child of the Lepane nation, manifests powers of a dual deity forever torn in two by light and darkness. Cast into exile by his clan for being a spawn of human and spirit, Naysin is lost in a world of change as pale men from the sea arrive to plunder the riches of the Earth. Guided only by the devious facets of his spirit father, Naysin has no choice but to master his powers to survive the destruction of his people.
And so the legend of the Red Wraith begins. For Naysin, it is a path of darkness and death that will take him from one end of the land to the other and down into the depths of infamy.
The New World will know him as the indigenous monster who kills in the name of vengeance, but that’s not who he wants to be. And when he encounters a group of fellow magic-users, Naysin realizes he may yet have a chance to set everything right.
Details
Railroad Rising
The Black Powder Rebellion
by J. P. Wagner
Copyright © 2015 by J. P. Wagner
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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