Kingdom Above the Cloud

by Maggie Platt

  Prison or death for the boy? Memories of Jairus as a little one came to his mind. A sweet face, a childish giggle. His little feet padding down the hallway, chasing his sister Lena. He pushed those thoughts aside and refused to let himself be hindered by emotion.

  He looked intently at the faces in the mural. Unfortunately, Tovi had proven that his prison was not nearly secure enough. If Adwin could get her out, he surely could take Jairus as well. Then Adwin might have the full set. This could not be.

  He left the secret corridor and summoned a butler. “Bring Jairus to me. And keep Ajax away from here. I don’t care what you tell him, just make sure he is nowhere close to this room while I speak to my grandson.”

  He returned to his throne and brought his fingers together in front of his face, tapping them together one at a time. It would hurt his muddied heart to do away with the boy, but it must be done. He must do it himself to avoid another mistake. And the quicker the better.

  Jairus’ death would ensure that the prophecy could not come to fruition. With one of the usurpers dead, it could not be.

  Nearly an hour ticked by. Finally, someone entered, but it was not the butler who had left to find Jairus. It was a guard from the prison.

  “Excuse me, Your Majesty,” he said, his face pale and sweaty. “I bring news from the dungeon.”

  “Go on.”

  “Another prisoner has escaped, Your Majesty. We don’t know when it happened. We have not left our post.”

  Fury sped through his body. How many times must they search that prison for the way out? How many times must he replace his guards?

  “Who was the prisoner?” he asked, not bothering to hide his anger.

  “Master Xanthe,” the man replied, unable to maintain eye contact with the king. He looked at the floor, and his hands shook.

  Damien stared at the guard while his mind raced. Before he could recover himself, his butler returned. “Where have you been, and where is Jairus?” Damien bellowed, the veins in his eyes dark and pulsing.

  “I’m sorry, Your Majesty. We have searched throughout the palace. Prince Jairus is not here.”

  Just then another guard entered the room. “Your Majesty, I’m sorry to interrupt you. There is something you must know.”

  Damien’s head was already spinning. Xanthe gone. Jairus gone. He looked at the guard. What else could there be?

  “The house in the Bottom Rung, the one with the green sign. No one was there. It was empty, Your Majesty.”

  “Everyone out!” he screamed, his jaw quivering and his chest throbbing with pain. “Out! Get out!” They ran for the door to save themselves from his fury.

  He ripped the red curtain off the wall and threw it to the ground. He walked with fast heavy strides to the scene he hated. The conquerors. What if the blonde in the mural was really Xanthe? He had always counted on them being his grandchildren, including Lena. But now Tovi, Jairus, and Xanthe disappear on the same day. And the rebels who thought their existence was hidden disappear as well.

  The army. The army following the conquerors. It all clicked in his mind. Adwin had the four conquerors and an army. The end was coming. He must stop it.

  He found Adwin’s face and stared at it.

  Like a maniac who didn’t know he was speaking to paint and not a real man, Damien shouted, “So, you have them, do you? You have the conquerors gathered all together, ready to lead the army. You cleared them out of that rat hole in the Bottom Rung.” Black spit sprayed on the mural as he became more and more agitated. “Where are you hiding them, Adwin? You can’t hide them forever! They can’t get through your glass curtain, so it is only a matter of time before I find them and kill every last one of them.

  “It is no longer a game, old friend. This is war.”

  COMING NEXT IN

  TALES FROM ADIA . . .

  Water rushed below the treehouses, and Adians gathered on porches and along bridges. There was always a sense of wonder on the first day of the flood.

  Ganya stood beside her friend Leora and watched as a little boy shrieked and clapped his hands. “Look at the water, Mama! Look at it!” Several teenagers were gathered on one of the bridges, their legs dangling over as they watched and pointed.

  The water was far enough below that only an occasional spray reached the village. It was moving very fast, and the water had turned brown from all of the dirt and silt. It looked like frothy, bubbling mud.

  “The water came quicker than we expected,” Leora observed.

  “Yes, but we’re ready,” Ganya said, her usual cheer dimmed. Tovi had not come home the night before, and she feared what this could mean. Was she out there somewhere in the flood?

  Silas raced through the crowd, running full speed along a branch, upsetting the festive mood. “Ganya! Leora!” he called. “Grab some blankets!”

  It took a moment to take in the shift of the atmosphere. Something was wrong. And when Silas told her to do something, Ganya did it, no questions asked. She rushed inside, Leora at her heels. She threw open a trunk and tossed a blanket to Leora. She grabbed another, and they hustled back outside.

  Silas was perched precariously above the water, one arm anchored in a rope ladder, the other reaching for what looked to be a bundle of dark cloth that had washed against the tree trunk. “What is he doing?” Leora asked. Silas’ mouth was moving, as if he was talking to the dark mass, but they couldn’t hear his voice over the roar of the water.

  Then, the bundle moved. First a hand shot out, and then a round, pale face looked up. The girl squinted as water sprayed in her face. She nodded at Silas and took hold of his hand. They climbed ever so slowly up the rope ladder. She slipped several times, sagging against the rope and clutching Silas’ hand.

  The gathering above held their collective breath. The youngsters had moved closer to the action, intrigued by the stranger. What had happened to this poor girl? Where did she come from? How had she survived the surging water?

  Silas and the girl reached the landing at the top of the ladder. They were soaked through, and the girl was trembling. Leora wrapped her in one of the blankets while Ganya offered hers to Silas.

  “No, I’m fine,” he said. “She could use that one, too.”

  Ganya draped the second blanket around the girl and gently combed the dark hair out of her face. “Can you stand up, dear? We’ll get you dry and warm up by my fire.”

  The girl looked at Silas, her eyes big in her pale face.

  Silas smiled. “It’s safe, BiBi. Ganya will take good care of you. I will come see you when you’re settled in.”

  She nodded.

  The poor dear. What a story she must have to tell, being swept up in the flood and finding herself clinging to that tree for her life. She definitely wasn’t from Adia, but Ganya knew of no settlements upriver. She ticked through the villages and towns she knew. The city on the mountain, a cluster of resistance fighters in the northern desert, the cave people in the far east, the marshes directly south. But northwest? She was very interested to hear this young one’s tale.

  “Come, come. Let’s get you dry,” Ganya said, leading the girl to the house in the willow.

  The girl suddenly stopped just outside. “This . . . this is Tovi’s house.”

  Ganya’s heart skipped a beat, and she peered closely at the girl. “Yes, this is our home. How do you know my Tovi?”

  The girl opened her mouth a few times like she was trying to say something but couldn’t quite find the words.

  “We’ll get to that later,” Ganya said, trying her best to comfort the girl with a smile and a grandmotherly arm around the shoulders. “Come inside. We’ll find some dry clothes and get you warmed up by the fire.”

  The girl fit well enough into one of Tovi’s soft dresses. She kept running her hands over the blue-green fabric as she sat in one of the big comfy chairs while Ganya warmed some brothy soup. “What is your name, child?”

  “Bibianna. Most people call me BiBi.”

  “And how di
d you end up in your predicament today?”

  Silas appeared in the doorway. “That story will have to wait for now,” he said, taking the other big chair near the fire. “BiBi, I know why you are here, and I know who sent you.”

  Ganya did her best to keep stirring the soup as if nothing was amiss. Were her ears lying, or was this sweet girl a villain of some sort?

  She took a peek at the girl, who was staring at Silas, her hands trembling in her lap and her bottom lip quivering.

  “You don’t need to be afraid of me,” Silas continued. “Do you remember what I told you the last time we were here together?”

  The girl barely nodded. “You said that soon the mountain wouldn’t be safe for me, and that you hoped I would come back here when that time came.”

  Silas nodded. “No matter your reasons, I am glad you are back. This is where you belong. There are many people trying to control you on the mountain. None of them are here. They cannot get to you, and you cannot get to them. You are trapped here until the flood is over. I hope you will use this time to rest, take some deep breaths, and learn a thing or two before the water recedes. You will stay here with Ganya. She could use the company.”

  “Where is Tovi?” the girl asked shyly.

  Silas glanced up and locked eyes with Ganya, and she did not like the look on his face.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Maggie Platt is a writer, traveler, cancer survivor, and dreamer. Her greatest joys are being Auntie M to her amazing nieces and nephew and sitting with students and friends over cups of coffee and deep conversations. She works at her alma mater, Anderson University, and she lives in a cozy little cottage nearby where students come to sit on her couch just to laugh, cry, and talk about life.

  For more information about

  Maggie Platt

  &

  Kingdom Above the Cloud

  please visit:

  www.maggieplatt.com

  www.facebook.com/AuthorMaggiePlatt

  @_maggie_platt_

  www.instagram.com/_maggie_platt_

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