by Sanders, Dan
“Don’t exaggerate,” Daimon said. “I’ll get used to flying this… whatever you call it.” He grabbed the ornate T-Bar and glared at the swirling purple sky with the most serious face he could manage.
Bevan smiled. They had been flying through the thin, cold air for an entire day, stopping only once to camp in the remote valley of Umadoria. And in that time he decided he liked the boy, despite his being a servant and an Earthling. He had the makings of a leader: he had an adventurer’s heart, was fun to be around and was a skilled fighter with the CBlade. The only thing this boy needs, Bevan thought, is to learn how to connect with the power of the land. He had heard from others that Earthlings sometimes never learned the connection, a miserable life watching others find true peace and strength. He shuddered at the thought.
Bevan studied the boy as Daimon unsuccessfully tried to smooth his blond hair waving in the wind. Perhaps he could teach him. If anybody could help the boy, he could.
“Will you two stop fooling around; you’re making me nervous,” Sabina called out from inside the carriage. She coughed and pulled her knees to her chest.
From the front of the rig Bevan laughed and said, “It’s not our fault you are afraid of heights.”
Sabina scowled, pulled her ochre robe even tighter over her messy hair and flicked through an old book titled, ‘Extraction of Healing Energies from Exotic Annwynian Flora.’
Daimon shook his head and said, “Are you blind. She’s ill. I’m worried about her.”
“How can you tell?”
“My father’s ill. I can tell. She’s getting worse.”
Bevan shrugged and returned his attention to the front of the carriage. He watched the boy get comfortable with the T-shaped handle sticking up from the floor. Bored, he looked back and saw Ketty comfort Sabina. He was relieved he persuaded his father to dispense with his usual entourage in exchange for his old nanny. Bevan watched his father’s advisor Zenon sleeping, and thought the man’s round back and stringy black hair made him look more like a mountain goat than a man. He knew his father only sent him to keep an eye on him.
“I wish my master, the general, could see this flying wagon,” Daimon said. “If he had such a weapon, the Persians would be destroyed overnight.”
Bevan looked quizzically at Daimon and said, “It’s much more than that my young friend, this Largon will revolutionise travel, trade and the Lore on Annwyn for the next five hundred years.”
Changing the subject, Bevan leaned in to Daimon and whispered, “Is the woman always this sour?”
Daimon glared at Bevan. “Give her a break. It’s only been four days since Aldrick’s death. He was her mentor and close family friend; almost a father from what I can tell. But I think some ailment causes her stupor. I still think we should get her some medical attention.”
Bevan was puzzled. “I don’t see how they could be close. She’s a Loric peasant, and Aldrick was the global head of Hawkmoth.”
“You really think highly of yourself, don’t you,” said Daimon. “You know, my master on Earth has a saying: ‘A ruler without his subjects is just a lonely man.’ In simple words, we are not one without the other. Besides, Sabina may not be of noble birth but she is one of the leading scholars on Annwyn, and certainly the youngest.”
He laughed, “You speak plainly above your station, Earth boy.”
“That’s the benefit of peasants who have nothing to lose.”
Bevan stared at Daimon for a while, judging whether to ensure the boy remembered his place. In the end he thought better of it. Instead he said, “You like her, don’t you?”
Daimon smiled faintly and said, “Besides, I know Aldrick was a prickly man, but his heart was good and strong. I miss him also.”
Bevan leaned back and put his boots on the front rail. He smoothed his hair and scratched the emerging stubble on his chin. The stubble reminded him of freedom from the palace. He let his thoughts drift into his usual dream. A dream where he is finally free from his father’s constant badgering, free from his obligation as heir to the throne, and the mindnumbing monotony that comes with being a king. It had ruined his father, always short tempered, unhealthy, no time for himself, always sliding his agenda under the competing agenda of the other nations. No, for him, perfection was travelling the world with his many friends, enjoying the richness the world had to offer. The only other addition to his dream, one that he had been thinking about lately, was taking a bride. There were many courtiers, and at some stage he would have to pick one. She would live in Ibendari, or even Errenor–he always loved Errenor, and raise their children. He could have both freedom and a mate. That would be nice, at some stage, he thought.
The Earth boy interrupted his reverie. “Can you see that?” Daimon pointed north-east in the direction they were headed.
“I can’t see anything with how you’re flying.” Bevan laughed, took out a blue crystal spyglass and extended it fully. He adjusted the crystal lenses for a moment before explaining to the Earth boy what he could see. “It’s well beyond where the Ibaloth are, near Bardi, south of Alendi. In the name of Enki, what is that?”
Daimon hurriedly looked through the spyglass and said, “I have seen this. The land is burnt, like a great fire. It’s the dark shadow, the same that the Treebith showed us on our Astral projection to Alendi.”
Bevan realised he hadn’t experienced what Daimon and Sabina had been through. He sat back and closed his eyes. He reached out to the land, pushing his mind further beyond the mountains and across the plains and along the Lochwyn River. He connected with the earth. At first he could sense only the usual ancient humming of the rock beneath the grasses. He continued to reach his mind across the land, and then he hit a mental wall. Pain in the rock, pain as he had never felt before. It was as though he reached a part in the land that no longer had power for him to draw from. It wanted nourishment, it needed power from him. He withdrew and grabbed the rail. Breathing hard he said to Daimon, “What could cause such evil? Never before have I felt the land this way.”
Daimon went to ask another question but Bevan waved him silent. Daimon ignored him and said, “But what’s that, over in that direction?”
Bevan took back the spyglass and saw a black mass inching across the plains.
“I’m not sure. I can’t feel them. Beings of some kind headed south-east.”
Bevan felt uneasy. Could what the Melders predicted come to pass? But that would mean… He couldn’t fathom the consequences of such a thing.
Bevan flew the bronzed, royal wagon, with its yellow power planks humming underneath, through the low-level clouds for the rest of the morning.
Daimon hopped into the back of the carriage and tended Sabina, whose coughs and groans barked into the quiet sky.
Just before noon on the third day Sabina started screaming and pulling wildly at her silver hair. She leaned out of the wagon, her head launched into the sky below, and vomited. Streamers of green bile left a trail behind the wagon drifting on the gentle winds of the northern ranges.
“She’s mad,” Bevan yelled.
But Daimon had already moved. He swung through the other window and into the wagon with Sabina. He pulled at her waist to drag her inside but she was too strong.
Sabina leaned further out, her hips on the edge of the door, and screamed, “Something’s wrong. Ahh, my mind is burning. Help, now, please.”
“Where, how?” Daimon pleaded. Ketty was wailing and waving her arms in panic.
Bevan looked around, annoyed at the mad woman behind. “Can’t you wait another day?We will be at Errenor by then.”
“You fool,” Daimon said. “Stop at the next town.”
Sabina groaned, pointing to the small village on the edge of a swamp. “What’s the town down there, on the other side of the mountain range?”
Bevan squinted. “Mithra,” he said impatiently. “But we have to pass through the Arusio Mountains. They’re treacherous.”
Sabina groaned. Ketty’s sturdy fingers patted
Sabina’s arm in comfort.
Bevan took out a handful of coloured sweets and chomped on a small, cloud-shaped purple treat. He held his hand out to Daimon. “Would you like one?”
“What are you doing?” said Daimon.
“Yala Bungs, they’re my favourite sweet. You can chew them for hours and their flavour remains strong.”
“They were right about you,” Daimon growled.
“Who, what?”
“Nothing.”
The flamboyant, royal-blue carriage bounced erratically among the clouds. Sabina retched again but managed to keep her insides down. The book she had been reading sat closed beside her.
Bevan took a deep breath of the scented mountain air to prepare for the trip through the mountains. As they approached the crystal peaks, he had underestimated how difficult flying the unwieldy wagon shape of the Largon through the mountains would be. In the silently drifting mist sharp crystal spires appeared from nowhere, forcing him to tilt the wagon so far that it flew sideways. Hearing the curses and moans from his passengers annoyed him. Up and down, left and right, the royal carriage weaved. At times they were so close to the mountain wall he could see the rattling reflection of the gold and stone carriage in the orange crystal ramparts.
Daimon’s white knuckles grasped the railing in the driver’s seat next to him. Sabina, Ketty and Zenon had taken Bevan’s advice and wrapped themselves in a climbing vine, hanging on for dear life.
“Watch out,” Daimon screamed.
Bevan groaned as he pulled back as hard as he could on the T-bar control, pulling the Largon into a rigid vertical climb, just missing a sharp mountain tip, ready for the dizzying trip to the ground again. The wagon shook as the passengers inside rumbled to the back. Sabina screamed as if a knife had been plunged into her belly.
As they descended through the mist, mountains a blur, Daimon stabbed his finger in the direction of the Mithran nation. “There it is,” he yelled. The wind whipped his voice away, his hair and eyes pulled skyward by the force of their descent.
Bevan’s muscles bulged as he weaved the royal Largon down past the many crevices in the mountainside. He decided that after seeing the darkness on the land the mission would be at risk if he stopped at Mithra now. Besides, Mithra was only a few leagues from Korak, a nation full of assassins. That would put them all in danger. His passengers were novices. Ketty would look after the girl. As they came through the mountains Bevan didn’t land and instead climbed back up to the lower clouds, heading towards Errenor.
Sabina screamed out, “Mithra is there. They are herbal–“ She leaned out and chucked the remains of her belly into the sky. Dribbling she said, “Herbal Lore… masters. Must stop now.”
“Afraid we can’t,” Bevan said, proud that he wasn’t bossed around by the woman with the messy silver hair.
Sabina sat back for a few minutes before screaming and pulling at her head again. Without warning, she undid her vines and rolled out of the wagon door, and disappeared into a cloud below.
“Bevan,” Daimon screamed.
Angry, Bevan tilted the Largon’s nose directly down and plummeted after Sabina’s flailing arms and legs. Bevan’s heart raced. They were making ground. As they flew through the last of the lower clouds, the dark green blot of the Mithran swamp filled their vision.
“Take over,” Bevan roared. They were standing upright with their feet pointed to the earth. They drew alongside a limp Sabina who had blacked out, her rounded shoulders, legs and arms, cupped and pointed at the sky. Daimon grabbed the T-Bar. Bevan tied a vine about his waist and leaned out. He threw his arms about Sabina, but missed.
“Bevan,” Daimon screamed and Ketty screamed.
Puffing, Bevan knew he had one more chance before landing in the swamp below. Stretching his large hands as far as they could, his fingers caught Sabina’s ochre robe. He yanked her into his chest. Sabina’s silver head banged into his cheek, splitting his skin.
Daimon pulled back on the T-Bar, and the Power Planks screamed under his demand. The royal wagon straightened and bounced along the ground, skipped across the brown waters before resting in the rushes of the Mithran swamp.
Chapter 32
Lupi Reunited
THILAMETH,
ANNWYN
Emily looked over the basket. The clouds beneath parted to reveal the sky filled by a huge slab of Annwynian land, a single jagged jigsaw all alone in the blue. Wild trees and flowers of all colours wound around the floating township, dripping off the sides into the sky below.
At first Emily couldn’t make it out, but as they drew closer, the sky around the metropolis was filled with Agramond buzzing like clear crystal bees hovering around their hive.
“It’s beautiful,” Rupurt said.
“I had forgotten,” Lupi murmured to nobody in particular.
The Fistur elegantly performed its usual routine of winding down in decreasing circles until its massive wings powerfully pumped the thin air of Thilameth. Cheers and applause erupted from the startled Agramond.
When they were on solid earth Rupurt hopped around in grateful circles. “I’m glad to be on grass, really glad to be on grass,” he squealed.
Emily laughed at Rupurt. “Don’t forget, you’re still in the clouds.”
Lupi spoke quietly with one of the Agramond. She turned and instructed Arun to follow his escort, then signalled to Emily and Rupurt.
“We will be taken to the Queen of the Agramond. Follow me,” Lupi said soberly.
They followed Lupi and their escorts through the town. Emily felt at home in the city in the clouds. It was not only because Thilameth was in the air, like her home on Earth, but the buildings were built into the landscape, covered by vines and the surrounding emerald tree-scape. Unlike the gargantuan trees of the Treebith-Nod, the trees in Thilameth were smaller, with roughly rounded tops and ancient gangly arms that cosily curved over the ground. For a moment she forgot she didn’t have time to enjoy Lupi’s home. She had forgotten about the tests she had to have before she could retrieve the Egg.
They hopped past a small lake in the town centre, with streams meandering through the hills and gullies. They hopped for most of the afternoon. Emily wished they had carriages or other forms of transport, but realised Thilameth did not need to accommodate other beings. She occasionally glanced at the sky to see if the Faoir had returned, but saw only a sky filled with the gossamer silks and the coloured wings of the Air-Elves.
Emily was annoyed at Rupurt leaving her side to hop off and play with the children that hovered about the purple flowered trees and tinkling streams. A favourite game she saw the Agramond children playing was chase, flying around a single branch or tree trunk, eventually reaching such speed they became a multi-coloured blur wrapping itself around the delighted limb.
“I love the crystals,“ Rupurt said, pointing to the homes in the trees.
“Lupi, why is clear crystal used in most of the buildings?” Emily asked.
Lupi snapped, “Arkonite Crystal… It floats, keeps this place afloat.”
Emily was worried about Lupi, watching her finger tips turn pink from pressing too firmly into her Pandrien Pipe. Gone was her fun-loving spirit. She wondered what had happened for Lupi to feel this way about her home.
They arrived at a grand home built into the mothering branches of an ancient tree. A stream sang as it meandered into the dark forest before them. Crystal pillars, wrapped in vines, surrounded the veranda where they waited for the Queen.
An aged Agramond in purple silky robes with gold wings and silver hair glided to Lupi, took her hand and said adoringly, “Lupita Bothan, daughter of Aria and Borieal, you have returned to us after all these years. Welcome child.”
Lupi held her gaze at the clear crystal floor and said quietly, “Your Majesty… I have come only as a guide on a quest.”
The Queen’s sparkling eyes continued to smile as she noticed Lupi’s companions for the first time.
“The surprises continue. Who are your
companions, Lupita?”
Lupi’s hands clasped tighter around her Pandrien pipe. “My Queen, this is Rupurt of the Adros Rabbits, and this is Emily of Earth, Chosen One of Eostra. I… Emily and I… are members of the Circle of Six, as foretold by the Seers of Wellwyn.”
The Queen’s eyes widened in surprise. She whispered to one of her aides. He nodded obediently, his wings hissing over the veranda as he disappeared down the stream. The Queen wafted over to Emily. She was surprised at the fire red in Emily’s ears. Her face scrunched into an uncomfortable v-shape.
“This is not the mark. Where is the mark?” she demanded of Emily.
Emily raised her left forepaw and showed the embedded red scar left by Eostra, what seemed like many moons ago.
“It is not possible,” the Queen said, shaking her long hair. “I have not been told.”
Emily looked straight into the Queen’s questioning eyes. She said as politely as she could, “Queen Avani of the Agramond, I don’t know why you were not told. Perhaps there has not been time. I come on a most urgent quest. I am to find the lost Egg of Eostra and return it to Havendel.”
The Queen said, “I know of the Wellwyn Prophecy and the danger Annwyn faces. You have the mark, but I did not expect…” She waved her fine hands over Emily.
“Neither did I, Your Majesty,” Emily sighed. “But here I am. Although I am a bird-rabbit, I’ve learned much. I’m ready to do my best for your home and mine.”
“It is not for me to decide whether you receive Eostra’s Egg. That task falls to the Bardi, the guardians of the Egg. They have remained its guardians here for almost two millennia since the Battle of Bothemul. They operate under the instruction of the Melder council.”
“Are they here?” Emily worried that the Egg was not in Thilameth.
“All in good time, my dear. Now, where are my manners?” The Queen turned to Lupi and said, “I have sent for your parents. You must rest a few days.”
Lupi’s cheeks flushed, her horrified eyes staring at the Queen. She stammered, “My Queen, I can’t… we can’t… We have to return the Egg by the end of this lunar cycle. We have only four days left.”