“I know he was your friend,” Hotspur’s former Lieutenant said, adopting the friendliest tone she could muster, “but we have to plan ahead.”
“Make your plans. But do me a favor: keep them to yourself.”
“Listen, Occulus would have—”
“This isn’t about Occulus.”
“Oh?” Morgan said, thinking they were getting somewhere.
“I just don’t like you.” Vere passed between two giant trees covered with orange and red leaves and then added, “No offense. I’m sure other people do. Just not me.”
“Did you think you’d be able to get by the rest of your life only being around people you like?”
Fastolf answered on his friend’s behalf: “It worked for her the last six years, didn’t it?”
“How about this?” Morgan said, ignoring the oaf behind her. “If we get through this, you’ll never have to see me again.”
Vere looked over to see if the other woman was being serious or facetious. It was one thing to offer the comment while being forced to work together. They would get through this mission and then go their separate ways. It was quite another thing if Morgan was hinting that Vere wouldn’t have to see her again because one day later her head would be separated from her shoulders. Those would be fighting words. But Morgan seemed to be genuine in her sentiment.
“Works for me.”
“Great. We have a lot to talk about then.”
“I’m not talking about Occulus.”
Morgan started to shake her head in amazement, then caught herself. To her, it made no sense to waste time talking about the dead while the living were at risk.
“Okay, whatever works for you.”
Vere frowned. “Or the Green Knight.”
“Fine, we don’t have to talk about him either.”
Without being prompted to do so, Pistol announced how much further they still had to go. Baldwin gave a slight groan that he might not even have been aware he made. Fastolf pulled out his flask and took a sip, then offered it to Vere. Without pausing, she waved it away as she continued to walk.
“Get on with it,” she said to Morgan.
“Well, we’re dead set on getting back to your father. We agree on that much. What do you propose we do when we actually get there?”
“I’m not sure I understand,” Vere said between tight lips.
When she looked to her other side to see if A’la Dure could make sense of it, her friend only shrugged and kept walking.
Morgan said, “Someone put a bounty out on you. And not just any bounty. From the amount of assassins coming to Edsall Dark, I’d say they put out a record amount. Someone, for some reason, is willing to pay a lot of money to make sure you die.”
“The Vonnegan general—”
But Morgan finished the sentence for Vere: “Could just as easily have had the fleet destroy your ship a couple days ago.”
“Then who?”
Morgan took a deep breath, then watched Vere’s reaction out of the corner of her eye for the punch that might be coming her way. “Your father?”
But instead of taking offense, Vere only laughed. “Have you been drinking the same stuff as Fastolf?”
Playing along, Fastolf held his hands in the air, palms out, the sign of a wrongly accused man.
Morgan said, “If he’s sick, maybe his mind is slipping. He ordered an attack on an innocent ship in Vonnegan space; there’s no telling what he’s capable of if he’s lost his mind.”
Vere shook her head. “I’m still sure that has to be some sort of mistake. He wouldn’t order an attack like that. And no matter how senile my father gets, he’d never put a hit out on me.” Then she nudged A’la Dure and mumbled, “If he went crazy, the worst he’d do is let me live my own life.”
A’la Dure smiled at the cynicism and continued walking.
“Well,” Morgan said, trying to keep her patience, “who do you know at Edsall Dark that would like to see you killed?”
Vere chuckled and broke a twig from a low-hanging branch as she walked under it. Using her thumb and index finger, she broke the twig in half, then said, “Who can keep count?” As she walked, she then broke those halves in half again and added, “Probably more people than would like to see me alive.” She tossed the broken pieces of twig to the forest floor. “It’s not like they’d be happy to have me as their next leader.”
“Your step brother?”
“Modred?”
Morgan nodded. The few times she had seen Modred walking through the corridors of a Solar Carrier during a tour or a ship deployment, there had seemed to be something self-serving and vindictive about him. She was objective enough, however, to know she felt that way about anyone who hadn’t earned their place in life. Vere included.
“I don’t think he could hurt a bug,” Vere said. “I only saw him a few times growing up. Years before Lady Percy married my father, when Modred and I were both kids, I pulled the wings off a tiny crawler and he ran from the classroom crying and got me in trouble.”
“Maybe it was Lady Percy?”
Vere rubbed her chin. “Maybe. But why?”
“To get control of the kingdom.”
It sounded straightforward but there was one huge problem, which Vere was kind enough to point out: “My father is dying anyway. And I was nowhere to be found until this war became imminent. She could have had the kingdom without having me killed.”
Fastolf said, “A sip for all the what-could-have-beens and what-should-have-beens,” and this time Vere took him up on the offer and accepted the flask.
“This is hopeless,” Morgan growled, walking ahead to where Baldwin and Traskk were making their way through the dense woods in silence.
Only a minute later, Pistol stopped walking, turned to look back at the others, and said, “Up ahead: use extreme caution.”
In the distance, through the thick cluster of trees, they could see a collection of lights.
Fastolf pulled his blaster and aimed it at them but Vere put her hand on top of the barrel to push it back down by his side.
“You get to see the ghosts,” she said. “Scyphozoans. The spirits of the sad. The tears of the forest.”
“Great,” he grumbled, but his finger remained near the blaster’s trigger. “I hope they’re as much fun to be around as Morgan.”
“If you don’t touch them, they won’t hurt you.”
“Just like me,” Morgan said, punching Fastolf’s shoulder as she walked past him.
“Famous last words,” he replied, rubbing the spot where he’d just been punched, following wherever Vere went. And where she went was straight forward, right toward the glowing lights.
45
For the first time in his career, Hotspur barged into the king’s chambers without waiting to be called upon.
“There are bounty hunters all over our airspace,” he said, pointing at the portal that orbited their planet.
“I know,” Modred said. “They aren’t harming anyone, though.”
“They harm our planet with their mere presence.”
Knowing how Hotspur’s mind worked, knowing Edsall Dark’s newly appointed military leader would love nothing more than to send a portion of his fleet to destroy every unscrupulous mercenary within the solar system, Modred said, “Leave them alone.”
“The king would not want them here.”
“The king?” Modred said, throwing a hand over his shoulder at the shriveled body lying pitifully in bed. Artan’s cheeks were sunken into his face. His eye sockets seemed impossibly deep. “The king does not have a say in the matter. His replacement is giving you the order. A replacement, I might remind you, who appointed you as the new CasterLan fleet leader. You didn’t seem to mind my authority when I gave you that title.”
Hotspur took one stride toward the king’s stepson. “Give me a reason to ignore the bounty hunters.”
“Other than because I ordered it?”
There were a lot of things Modred could have said. He c
ould have said Hotspur had better learn to respect what Modred commanded because, like it or not, his mother was the queen and no one else was around to rule. He could have said there were going to be a lot of changes soon and it was important to pick the correct side.
But seeing the man so close to him, so large in his space armor, he said, “If they are still here when the Vonnegan fleet arrives, they can help us in the fight.”
Hotspur, trained to respect authority in all forms, actually scoffed at this sentiment. The two men stared at each other for a brief moment. Then Hotspur laughed and left the room without a formal parting. After he was gone, Modred had no idea if his fleet commander was going to obey his orders or do whatever he wanted.
46
The closer they got to the Scyphozoans, the more each blur of light coalesced into its own distinct shape. What had been a glowing patch of forest at dusk was now illuminated by more than one hundred radiant creatures lighting a pathway through the nighttime forest.
“They’re beautiful,” Baldwin said, looking at the collection of tentacled, wandering beings in front of them.
As far as they could see from left to right, the glowing forms drifted over the ground. Each time a gentle breeze came through the woods, the collection of gelatinous globules moved slightly farther through the forest, their limbs trailing behind, then dangling loosely underneath them again once the wind died down. Any part of the ground that had been touched by a Scyphozoan tentacle had a luminous glow that faded over time.
“I’ve never seen this many,” Vere said, her mouth slightly open. “I’ve been here countless times. I normally only see one or two.”
“These are the sad spirits of the forest,” Morgan said. Then, seeing A’la Dure’s bereaved look, probably wishing Occulus could see the creatures with them, added, “I suppose there’s a lot to be melancholy about tonight.”
Baldwin stared in amazement, almost whispering, “When I was little, my grandmother told me that my grandfather was one of these ghosts because he’d died in battle right after they got married. I think she was trying to bring me into her way of coping with the loss, but I was too young to appreciate that. Instead, it just left me terrified of these things until I was old enough to understand what they really were.”
Some Scyphozoans were slightly larger than others, but all of them shared the common feature of resembling a floating teardrop, a narrow top and an extremely wide base.
“It must be like looking in a mirror, right?” Pistol said, patting Fastolf on the back.
The oaf could only groan.
They had walked without rest for nearly a day, but in that moment, all of them were overcome with the dazzling view of dozens and dozens of these beautiful things swaying through the forest in complete peace and calm. The sound of leaves rustling as the breeze came through, followed by the slow wandering of the soft blue glowing lights was hypnotic.
Traskk’s tongue darted out of his mouth as he spoke in a low grumble.
“What did he say?” Morgan wanted to know.
Vere continued to gaze at the lights drifting in front of her when she spoke. “He said they have no smell. He can smell just about anything and they don’t have any kind of odor at all. Every living thing, even trees and grass, have smells. But not these things.”
As if to agree with Vere’s translation of what he had said, Traskk offered a low whine. Vere had seen the reptile, twice the size of any normal man, rip murderous aliens apart during bar fights. She had seen him become overcome with bloodlust upon seeing a Toaden outside the bar on Folliet-Bright. And, only hours earlier, had heard that viciousness as he tore the amphibian bounty hunter apart. When these things happened, it didn’t matter what she said or how many people were with her; nothing was going to stop Traskk from killing what he wanted to kill. But now, that same Basilisk was stepping awkwardly back and forth, wanting to stay as far away from the Scyphozoans as possible. His tail, which could kill someone with its force or uproot a tree, dragged limply on the ground.
“Do we go around?” Baldwin asked.
“It will take too long,” Vere said.
Fastolf raised his blaster again but A’la Dure grabbed his wrist so hard that he gave a slight cry and immediately pulled his hand back.
“You won’t hurt them,” Vere said, agreeing with A’la Dure.
His pride hurting as much as his wrist, Fastolf tried to make a joke out of it: “Scared of the ghosts, are you? A plague of cowards! Every last one of you.” And yet he also backed away from the Scyphozoans as he said it.
It was Morgan who said, “If you grew up on Edsall Dark you’d know you don’t do anything to harm the tears of the forest.”
“Plus,” Baldwin said, “my father told me anyone who killed a Scyphozoan eventually became one.”
“Occulus used to tell me that too,” Vere said, lowering her head, “My mother believed her parents were out here as well. Although, for a completely different reason.”
In that moment, she joined A’la Dure in becoming incredibly saddened by the sight of the aimless beings in front of her. Each one was a reminder not just of all the people she had lost in her life, but a reminder that the galaxy was a cold and lonely place. Every second that went by was another opportunity to lose someone you loved. These glowing spirits seemed to be proof of that.
Another gust of wind came through. When it did, the entire legion of glowing forms drifted further from left to right. Their tentacles followed a moment later, trailing behind as the Scyphozoans were pushed through the woods, then hanging underneath the creature after it came to a rest.
Pistol said, “There is a twenty-nine percent chance we will make it to the kingdom in time, but that probability is decreasing every moment.”
Without another word, Vere stepped forward until she was mere feet away from the nearest glowing creature.
Traskk gave a nervous hiss.
Fastolf yelled, “What are you doing?”
Without turning to look back at them, Vere said, “They won’t hurt you if you don’t touch them. They have long tentacles but they won’t reach for you. Just keep a safe distance.” Then she continued forward, making her way in between the deadly souls.
Morgan followed. Then Pistol. Then A’la Dure.
Seeing them leave him, Baldwin uttered a prayer to himself, then began carefully navigating the field of venomous spirits.
Fastolf retrieved his flask from his vest and took a big gulp. He was going to put it back in his pocket but Traskk reached for it and took a drink as well. When the reptile handed it back, it was empty.
Both of them had their reasons for being worried. Fastolf’s giant belly gave him less room for error in navigating through the field of glowing creatures, making it much more difficult to walk between them without touching one. Traskk’s tail might have been an even greater liability. It was longer than he was tall and was continually moving with what seemed to be a mind of its own. Surely, it would accidently touch a Scyphozoan.
“Do we stay here?” Fastolf said, looking out at the forest of glowing objects.
Traskk’s answer was a low hiss and then a quick movement out into the beginning of the field of faint blue lights.
“Why me?” Fastolf said. After pulling out yet another flask, this one hidden in his rucksack, and taking a large drink, he too took a step forward.
At the front of the group, Vere called out, “They only move when the wind comes through. Other than that, it’s fairly easy to find room between each one.”
All around her, tear-shaped creatures glowed, turning the forest into a soft blue glow of tranquility. When she stopped and looked at the creatures, which might have been mindless jelly aliens just as much as they might have been the spirits of those she had known and loved, she saw a peacefulness she wished she could attain more often in her own life.
There had been sporadic instances—the quiet after a long day of telling jokes, the calm that came with taking the Griffin Fire out into space—in whic
h she felt at one with the galaxy. Those moments were few and far between. And when they did occur, they were fleeting, gone before she could hold onto them.
Looking behind her, she saw Morgan, Pistol, A’la Dure and everyone else, all at various distances, each following the path she was making through the tears of light. Looking forward again, she continued on.
Every once in a while she heard a rustling of leaves and called out, “Wind,” and everyone watched the Scyphozoans closest to their left to see how far they would drift toward them. Then, as a group, everyone would adjust their path to stay away from the forest spirits.
At the back of the group, Fastolf took a deep breath and sucked in his gut as much as he could. Traskk actually picked up his tail in his arms and carried it so it didn’t linger too far behind him or unconsciously wag from one side to the other and accidently touch one of the poisonous creatures.
He turned to Fastolf and growled a series of words in Basilisk but Fastolf was too filled with a combination of liquid courage and extreme fright to pay attention to what his reptilian friend had just said. He had no way of knowing that Traskk had just warned him that if he ever told anyone about seeing the Basilisk carry his tail, he wouldn’t have a face the next morning.
“Wind,” Vere said again, pausing to see how much each Scyphozoan would drift.
Another light breeze. Another gentle swaying of the Scyphozoans. All around them, the galaxy’s most toxic living creature drifted only feet away from where they each stood.
As she took a step forward, the glowing tentacle spirit directly in front of her dissolved into a mist of light blue energy that hovered in the air like mist, then slowly descended toward the ground. The Scyphozoan she had been looking at was gone. She stared at the moist blue glowing light on the rocks by her feet, waiting for it to sink into the ground and disappear, trying to piece together what had just happened. In all the stories she had been told of the forest spirits—the forest’s tears—she had never heard of them dissolving for no reason.
The Green Knight (Space Lore Book 1) Page 17