Skyborn

by Lou Anders

  “Then show me,” said Karn, stepping aside. “Though I think I was doing pretty good, considering I don’t even know what the game is called.”

  “It is named Queen’s Champion,” said the automaton.

  “Thanks,” said Karn. “And what are you named?”

  There was a soft click as the automaton raised an eyebrow.

  “I am a Talosian,” it said. “We are all called Talos.”

  “All of you?”

  “Yes. After the first of us, who was forged by the god Cratus the Smith to be his best companion. I am Talos Ten Thousand Fifty-one.”

  “There are over ten thousand of you?” said Karn.

  “There are never more than three hundred of us at a time,” the automaton replied. “We only fashion another of our kind when one is destroyed. I was fashioned twelve years ago after Talos Nine Thousand Eight Hundred Seventy-four ceased function.”

  “Why do you look like a child?” ask Karn. “I mean, if you are…‘fashioned.’ ”

  “Because I am a child. When I am older, I will be upgraded with a new and larger body.”

  “Wow. That’s really…” Karn stopped before he said something offensive. The past few months of travel had broadened his mind considerably. “Interesting,” he finished, and meant it. “My name is Karn Korlundsson,” he said. “Be healthy.”

  “Health has no meaning to me,” said Talos.

  “It’s just what we Norrønians say in greeting,” said Karn.

  “Then why not simply say hello? Or ‘good fortune,’ as Thicans do?”

  “Because it’s a nice thing to say. Never mind, you were telling me the rules.”

  Talos explained that the playing pieces all moved one square at a time in any direction, except on their first move, when they were allowed to step forward two spaces. When a piece landed adjacent to an opposing piece, it could challenge. This was done by rolling a six-sided die. The challenging player was allowed to add one to the results of their roll, and the highest number won. The losing piece was removed from the board and the winner advanced into their space.

  “Why use dice?” asked Karn.

  “To simulate the unpredictability of swordplay,” Talos explained. “Combat is everything here, you will find.”

  “And yet no one challenges the two queens.”

  Talos paused at this but did not speak.

  “What about these two pieces?” continued Karn, indicating the two nonsoldiers.

  “The Queen and her Champion,” said Talos. “The Champion piece is the strongest on the board.”

  “It would be.”

  “When in combat, it rolls two six-sided dice and takes the highest result to represent this strength. Also, if the Queen comes under attack, before dice are rolled, she may exercise her ‘Prerogative’ and substitute the Champion in her place.”

  “How do you win?”

  “The game ends when the Queen is defeated or when all playing pieces other than the Queen are defeated and she stands alone.”

  “I think I got it,” said Karn. “Shall we play?”

  Talos seemed surprised by this.

  “I have played many times and you have only just learned the rules,” it said. “Despite the random element the dice bring, you are unlikely to win.”

  “Don’t be so sure,” said Karn. He could feel the muscles of his own face twitch as his gamer’s enthusiasm kicked in. “I’ve played a game or two.”

  —

  “You like the view?” Sirena asked.

  “It’s okay,” said Thianna, then realized that the Calderan girl was probably expecting a more enthusiastic reaction. “You have to understand, when you grow up on a plateau in the Ymirian mountain range, you get a little spoiled when it comes to views. There’s really nothing like it. But, hey, let me look at Caldera.”

  The giantess stared down from the tower. To her right, she could see the palace grounds laid out at the summit of the hill. In front of her, houses clustered along the first of two intercity walls. Beautiful fountains issued streams that ran swiftly down channels in the hillside. They flowed through the town to the base of the hill, where they spilled into the lake. Dwellings and other buildings tumbled down the slope all the way to the docks, while the roads from the hilltop to the bottom zigzagged precariously through all. And stretching out into the waters, two enormous seawalls protected the harbor, with colossal statues standing guard at the end of each breakwater.

  “I wonder what’s going on there,” she said, indicating the lowest section of the city.

  “Why would you want to know?” replied Sirena. “That’s where the helots live.”

  “Helots?”

  “You would call them slaves. Or maybe serfs. They are owned by the city.”

  “You’re kidding?” Thianna knew slavery was still practiced across much of her world, even in Norrøngard. She didn’t approve, though she wasn’t surprised. Sirena went on to explain the three-tiered division of Calderan society.

  “It’s really not that bad,” she said.

  “Ask a helot and see what they say,” said Thianna.

  “Funny,” said Sirena. “But why would you want to go down there when you can be up here? The docks are crowded, dirty, and dangerous.”

  “Let me tell you something I’ve learned the hard way. The real action is always down the hill.”

  Sirena nodded at this. “I imagine it was a very small place where you grew up. I mean, small for frost giants.”

  Thianna smiled. “My village was only a handful of people.”

  “It must have been awful,” said Sirena. “Cold, treeless, barren.” Her shoulders twitched as if shaking off an imagined chill.

  “Not at all,” said Thianna. “The mountains are magnificent. They stretch on forever. And it’s not barren. We have giants, and trolls, and, well, they’re not very nice. But the frost sprites are fun. There are a few snow goblins left. A couple of linnorms. And when the sun dips in the evening, the ice shines in so many colors.” The giantess pictured the scene in her mind. She surprised herself by how much she missed it.

  “I imagine that it is quite something to see.” Thianna spun around. Queen Melantha stood in the doorway to the tower stairs. She nodded slightly at Sirena and then at Thianna. “May I join you?”

  “I didn’t think queens had to ask,” said the giantess.

  Melantha smiled slightly at this. She walked to the edge of the platform they stood on and leaned on a railing.

  “We both wanted you to see the city from here, to understand Caldera. We want you to understand our city.”

  “Why?”

  “It was your mother’s city too.”

  Thianna felt a flurry in her chest at the mention of her mother. Talaria had really lived here, walked these streets. Maybe even stood on this balcony.

  “So tell me about it,” she said.

  “Well, to start with,” Sirena said, “we are in the Tower of Damnameneus. You know who that was?”

  Thianna shook her head.

  “He was a dactyl dwarf. A mathematician.” Sirena glanced upward, where the enormous parabolic mirror rose above them. “Also an inventor. He built these as well.”

  “He designed them,” corrected Queen Melantha. “The first were built thirteen thousand years ago, after the war with the Naga Rajya.”

  “Who?”

  “A kingdom to the east. We invaded them, but our soldiers mutinied and we were forced to turn back. The mirrors were supposed to protect against a counter-invasion, and so they were only installed on the east coast. The Naga Rajya never came.”

  “But someone else did,” said Sirena. “From the west.”

  “The Gordion Empire,” Thianna guessed.

  “You know of them, then?” Melantha said.

  “Yeah, well, thanks to Karn and my adventures, I’m finally getting a handle on this whole ‘history’ thing.”

  “Yes,” said the queen. “Thica was conquered then. We were just a part of the empire for centu
ries, made to adopt Gordion ways and culture.”

  “They forced their gods on us,” said Sirena angrily. “Their armies. Their money. Their food.”

  “I like some of their food,” said Thianna. Sirena snorted. “But Gordion was a long time ago,” the frost giant added.

  “Yes, it was,” said the queen. “And when the empire fell, we collapsed into warring city-states.”

  “We were invaded by country after country.” Sirena’s tone was bitter. “Picking at us like vultures while we fought among ourselves. It hasn’t been a hundred years since Caldera reunited the Thican Empire.”

  “We built the rest of the mirrors then,” said Melantha. “They were stationed around the entire coast, as they always should have been.”

  “We won’t be invaded again. We won’t be weak,” said Sirena.

  “I’ve found there is more than one way to be strong,” said the giantess.

  “You can’t be strong if you don’t know who you are,” said Sirena. “These clothes we are wearing”—she fingered the hem of Thianna’s tunic—“this is how the ancient Thicans dressed. Do you understand? We’re rebuilding our way of life here. Everything that Caldera does is to make us great again.”

  Thianna looked from the girl to the woman.

  “And all the city-states are on board with this?” she asked. “They didn’t seem any too happy about leaving their children here.”

  Melantha looked away. “Like parents, we must be firm. They would fall to war among themselves the instant we withdrew our hand.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  The queen paused.

  “One does not have to be certain to be prepared. Thianna, Sirena needs to understand how the horn works.”

  This was new. Sirena couldn’t use the horn. Surprising. But it also explained why they were being so nice.

  “Why doesn’t she?”

  “When Osius built the horn, he bound its power to his bloodline.”

  “His bloodline,” repeated Thianna. “But if it only works for his descendants, why did the dark elves want it?”

  “They might have learned to use it given sufficient time,” said the queen. “But we don’t have time. We need the horn in just five days. Sirena must master it before then.”

  “Why her?” said Thianna.

  “Believe me, I’ve asked myself that a lot lately,” said the girl. “It’s not the way I wanted the dice to fall.”

  Queen Melantha laid a hand on Sirena’s shoulder. “Sirena is my niece,” the Land Queen explained. “I was grooming her to be my heir. But then you blew the Horn of Osius, and the wyverns heard its call all the way from Ymiria. We knew then it had returned, and so Xalthea pulled Sirena from me and made her Keras Keeper.”

  “My life was totally upended,” said Sirena.

  “I’m sorry,” said Thianna, and meant it. “But I still don’t quite understand why it has to be her.”

  “It doesn’t now,” said Melantha. “It could be you again, and Sirena could resume her place as my heir. The empire could stay together; peace could be maintained. And you could join Calderan society.”

  “Me?” said Thianna. “But that’s not what I’ve been after. I’m here to destroy the horn.”

  “We know,” said the queen. “But now we have shown you its importance. Your importance.”

  “But I still don’t understand,” said Thianna. “Why does it have to be Sirena if it isn’t me? Why did Xalthea give her the job if she didn’t want it?”

  “Because Osius’s power runs strongest through his bloodline,” said Sirena.

  “Yes, you’ve explained all that,” said Thianna. “But why?” And then she understood. “Wait! Bloodline. You mean—she—me—we?”

  The giantess looked at the girl who had seemed so familiar, who knew how to fight, who had such fierce determination.

  “That’s right,” said the queen. “Sirena is your cousin.”

  —

  “I win again,” said Karn.

  The satyr scowled.

  Karn stepped back and laughed.

  All of the hostages had crowded around the game. They’d had to move the table out into the center of the room after he’d beaten Talos three games in a row. After that, Karn had taken on a succession of princes and princesses, none of whom had proved any real challenge for the strategy game expert.

  “How many wins is that now?” he said to Desstra.

  “Seven,” she said. “But don’t stop. I’m loading up on drachmas.” She jingled her coin purse, which bulged significantly more than it had before.

  “You’re betting on me?” Karn said in disbelief.

  “It beats betting against you,” the elf replied. “I learned that lesson in Gordasha.”

  “I’m surprised you’re still getting takers,” Karn said. “After all, I haven’t lost yet.”

  “They’re all royal,” said Desstra. “Little darlings of their city-states. They all think they’re the best at everything and everyone else is inferior. I tell you, I couldn’t pickpocket their money faster.”

  “I’d rather you didn’t do that,” said Karn.

  “We will need these drachmas when we get out of here,” she replied.

  “Okay,” said Karn. “I got you.” He tapped the board. “Who’s next?”

  “I am.” It was the minotaur boy, Asterius. He pawed the ground with a hoof, just like a bull would.

  “Not too proud to play with animals?” asked Karn. He was feeling pleased with himself and couldn’t resist.

  “No shame in stomping you into the dirt,” Asterius replied. Karn saw the familiar glint in the bull boy’s eye. The minotaur might prove a worthy competitor. Excitement stirred in the Norrønur’s belly in anticipation. Then something else occurred to him. The minotaur had started the food fight. He was the most disruptive person of the group. But maybe Karn could use the minotaur to pull all these squabbling royals together.

  “Why don’t we make it interesting?” Karn asked.

  Asterius shrugged and pulled a golden drachma from his pocket.

  “Not that,” said Karn. “I think Desstra has taken enough coin already.”

  “Speak for yourself,” said the elf.

  “Shhh,” Karn said. “We’re betting for something bigger.”

  This quieted the room.

  “What, then?” said the minotaur.

  “If I win, then when I bust out of here you have to help me.”

  “I told you, I’m not going to fight alongside an animal. Anyway, you won’t win.”

  “Then what are you afraid of?”

  Asterius snorted at the word afraid.

  “I fear nothing,” he said. “But what about you?”

  “Yes?” said Karn.

  “If I win, then we have another contest. A minotaur contest.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Head-butting,” said Asterius.

  Karn looked at the thick skull on the minotaur and the two sizable horns growing out of it.

  “Karn…,” said Desstra, a warning note in her voice.

  “You’re on,” said Karn. He spat in his hand and held it out to seal the deal. Asterius stared at the outstretched palm for a moment, but then he grasped the intent. He spat in his own hand and offered it to Karn.

  “I don’t like this,” said Desstra. “You couldn’t take being hit by that head.”

  Karn looked again at the minotaur’s huge skull.

  “Then I’ll just have to win, won’t I?”

  The elf shrugged.

  “Place your bets, everyone,” she said to the group. “Looks like we have a real fight on our hands. Who wants to bet on the minotaur?” Several hands went up at once. Desstra gave Karn a sympathetic look. “Doesn’t seem like they think you have a chance this time,” she said.

  “I will bet.” The automaton stepped forward. A coin slid out of a slot in its palm and was caught between two of its fingers. “I will bet on Karn Korlundsson.”

  —


  “My mother and your mother were sisters,” explained Sirena as they walked back to the Twin Palaces. “And Queen Melantha’s brother was my father.”

  “So you’re a niece to both the Land Queen and my mother. What happened to your parents?”

  “My mother died in battle.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Thianna.

  “Why should you be sorry?” asked Sirena. She seemed genuinely surprised at Thianna’s sympathy. “When a Calderan goes to fight, we tell her she must return ‘either with your shield or on it.’ She died fighting for her country. There is no higher honor.” Thianna detected a note of pride in the girl’s voice. And perhaps a touch of envy. “I’m the one you should feel sorry for. They took my sword and shield when I became Keras Keeper. I will never be allowed to die for Caldera.”

  Thianna considered this. It wasn’t the way she thought about things.

  “What about your father?” she asked.

  Sirena shrugged. “What about him? Men aren’t allowed to bear arms or rule. He oversaw Mother’s businesses, lived apart from us. He still does, I suppose.”

  “You don’t know?”

  “It doesn’t matter. I was being groomed to succeed Melantha, but as your mother was Keras Keeper, when the horn was found I was forced to take her place. My quarters, that bathtub you enjoyed—that is the home of the Keras Keeper.”

  “Those were my mother’s rooms?” Thianna stopped walking in shock. Of course, it shouldn’t have surprised her. But her mother had lived there, in the palace. Had bathed in that very tub. Thianna only had dim memories of her mother. Talaria had died when she was very young. Her mother had lived here, amid royalty, yet Talaria had never seemed anything but perfectly happy in their modest home in a cavern of ice and stone.

  “They could be your rooms,” said Sirena.

  “Right, imagine me in a palace,” said the giantess.

  “I admit,” said Sirena, “it would take some getting used to. On everybody’s part. I’m sure Xalthea would be thrilled.”

  They both laughed at this. Sirena laid a hand on the larger girl’s arm.