Lost Kingdom: Book 1 in the Lost Kingdom Series

by Maggert, Terry

  “From when?” Nolan asked, his stomach twisted with the enormity of their surroundings.

  “Four thousand, six hundred, and thirty standard years, give or take, as we said then.” Nani flickered in and out of focus, then stabilized. “Apologies. I am . . . limited here. This ship is compromised due to the landing and has never functioned properly. It is actively hostile to humans, and even to me.”

  “That’s why people can’t sleep in here? The neural net’s too hot,” Nolan said.

  “Yes. I pull power from the planet when I can, but even this representation is taxing,” Nani said.

  Nolan understood and leaned forward in the chair, which creaked from disuse. “We met two agents of the Calabria Prelate, and they shared a vaccine for something called Pox. There are entire kingdoms to the east, and no one remembers tech or the galaxy or even how to fly. Do you know why this is?”

  Nani flickered again but smiled, a wan moment of tired, forced joy. “The Calabria Prelate was given the planetary charter based on a survey of existing archaeology. The Pox is not known to me but sounds like something they would do to control immigration.”

  “Archaeology? Where? Who?” Nolan asked.

  “This world was—reclaimed. After a war, we think, but that was all blackest-level secret. My records are corrupted by time and impact damage. None of my passengers survived, but the second ship—”

  “Second ship?” Avina broke in.

  “Venkatesh is the AI—again, named by my human granddaughter, who is likely gone for thousands of years. He controlled their descent to the east on a likely site that overlooked the largest river we have ever surveyed. The plan was to use existing ruins to make travel simple and cheap, and build a colony based on local resources and reclaimed items. That must have failed, although I cannot imagine why,” Nani said. Her shape was fading out, then back, the edges becoming frayed.

  “The jump point collapsed and became erratic,” Nolan said. “We’re here because of it. Ship after ship comes down like a meteor, most of them breaking up in high orbit.”

  Nani gave a sage nod. “That would destabilize the entire plan. The Prelate spent billions chartering this world. So much potential. Things we had never seen before, nor could we imagine. But I ramble, and my power fades. I will lose my presence here for some time, but not before I give you three things you truly need.”

  “What is that, Nani?” Noland asked, his eyes bright with interest.

  “Follow me a bit further,” Nani said, walking away in stuttering steps. They went ten meters and stopped, only to have Nani wave open a massive interior door.

  Nolan peered inside the dim space. A single, heroic light strip pulsed to life, some twenty meters above. “I’ll be damned.”

  “Indeed. You need not walk,” Nani said.

  The jump plane was small but could hold a crew. It had an emergency chemical rocket system, and at another wave from Nani, the plane hummed to life.

  “Thank you, Nani,” Avina said. Her voice was soft with awe.

  “What are, ah—the other things?” Nolan asked.

  Nani smiled again. “I do not blame you, traveler. Time is short for me. As to the next gift, it is a data package.”

  “I don’t have—wait. I have these?” Nolan said, reaching in his bag and withdrawing the matrices they’d found.

  “Perfect. Now you will want something to store the matrix in,” Nani said. She looked to the right, and a wall panel slid open, revealing an array of pressure suits, hardened combat armor, and two human shapes hidden in a recessed grotto. “I have a unit that is older than the society on this planet, and one that was—accidentally acquired mere decades ago, and brought here after falling from the sky. So, a question for Cherry?”

  “What?” Nolan asked, shocked. “You know her name?”

  “Of course I do. This is my ship. I am the ship, in truth, but I have a question for Cherry, and I shall form it as in an old story from my time.”

  Nani flicked a glance at the human shapes, and a light bar flared above them, illuminating two fully articulated—and wholly realistic—android forms, one male, one female.

  “Cherry, how would you like to be a real girl?”

  Balant

  East

  “I could be by the fire, d’you hear me? A fire. Roaring with heat, just at the point where my feet start to tingle, like needles all over and then—like magic, I pull them away, feel the cool of the hall and put them back to start all over again,” Balant said, rocking side to side on the broad back of his mount. The horndall was a huge bull, his shaggy bulk moving steadily up the trail that was nearly invisible.

  Balant had ridden the beast for fifteen years, in which time they’d learned to tolerate each other most days. Not once had Runch ever answered his questions or complaints, but he did flick an irritated ear each time Balant became too whiny.

  Like now.

  “Fine, fine, you ungrateful carcass. As if I’d allow a monster of your size and smell into the hall. It would take a week to sweep the fur, let alone anything else you might leave behind. You’re not the most delicate houseguest, I wouldn’t think.”

  Runch answered by whipping his tail across Balant’s back, then belching to augment the protest.

  “Fair enough, lad. You’ve earned at least the right to do that,” Balant said.

  “To do what?”

  Balant’s sword was out in a silver flash, pointed toward the voice before the ring of metal on scabbard could fade. “Hmm. You might have let me know you were close by. I might have—”

  “Soiled yourself? At your age, that’s a real possibility,” the man said. He was a thinner version of Balant; tough and seasoned and made for war, but where Balant was big, Kinnibek was lean. The Faunhills were a hard place to live, and it showed in Kinnibek’s lined face. Despite that, he smiled, and it was warm, his blue eyes twinkling with a shared joke between old friends.

  “Not this time, but the day is young. If I have another scare, I might not survive at all, you wiry cur,” Balant said. He dismounted to embrace his friend, and the two veterans looked each other over for new scars or signs of age. They both found plenty.

  Kinnibek’s smile fell, and his eyes darkened. “Tell me while we walk.”

  “That obvious?”

  “You’re two moons ahead of a reason to be here, and there’s been no Thread crying the joys of our new queen. We’ve been waiting for word. Or soldiers,” Kinnibek added.

  “Your lances?” Balant asked, eyes sweeping outward over the ranges.

  “Discreetly placed, and archers, too. I’ve squads of rangers at each creek or falls. Anywhere they can wait in silence, since I knew that no news was, in fact, bad news. What happened, and who’s responsible?”

  Balant grunted his approval. “You were always too cynical for my tastes, but damned if it doesn’t make for easy deployment. In short, bad as it can be. The entire wedding party is gone to a fire, but Corra lives.”

  Other than Runch chewing absently at dry flowers, there was no sound while they walked, considering the news and what it meant for their people.

  “Rukisa?” Kinnibek asked.

  “I don’t know, but if she left, it was for a reason we don’t want to know. Nothing about that woman was ever good, and her years of doing whatever went on in the desert have only corrupted her further. As to our interests, Ainault has Corra at a safe place, and we’re preparing defenses to the south and west. I’ve yet to see Wunshah, but when I do, she’ll alert all the Mergansi to any incursions if she hasn’t already.”

  “Bah. The westerners are soft. They have two months of open grass and still complain like toothless aunties at the dinner table.”

  “The Mergansi will be on your flank in the coming war regardless of your assessment, friend. You need their arrows, and we need your spears. It’s the way of things.”

  “I know, but I like complaining. In truth, all that open pasture makes me almost wish we had less winter, but then I wouldn’t want any
of the Faunhill to hear that, now would I?” Kinnibek said.

  “Perish the thought. Maybe you’re the one going soft, old friend?”

  “Of course I am. Doesn’t mean I have to let anyone else know my knees feel like broken glass in the morning.” Kinnibek’s grin was rich with conspiracy. Getting old was a curse, but his years as leader of the Faunhill made him resilient, if not prone to griping.

  “Mine too, among other things.” They both fell quiet at that, as the specter of age passed by, a reminder that they were both going to need successors, and soon.

  “What of Corra? She lives well?”

  “Well enough for her losses. As to her heart, I cannot say. Ainault will place her under strain, and we will either find our blade or lose the kingdom. It’s that simple.”

  “She’s a rare one. D’you know she stole a belt from me when she was seven?” Kinnibek asked. As the wind shifted, wood smoke flavored the air. The camp was nearby, and Balant’s stomach growled.

  “A belt? Why?”

  “She was visiting for Summerdown with the others. You recall the year? When the festival fire was a circle?”

  “Yes. A good year.”

  “It was. And she was in the thick of it, running, screaming. Covered in flowers and about to raise the flood with her noise. Joy like you’ve never seen, her and the other children. They found a razorbeak, wounded, still in down and not a stitch of fur to be seen. Dead for sure, but she was determined to bring it back. It tried to bite her twice, but she cuffed the beak and scolded it until it eyed her like an older sister. Amazing sight.” He laughed, respect and wonder in each sound. “I told her she couldn’t have a lead to bring it home, since I was convinced it would turn on her. I was right, of course, but that didn’t stop her from going ahead with the plan. She woke up before dawn, stole the belt from my horndalls harness, and went out to find the wicked little beastie.”

  “Did she?”

  “Of course. When I found her, she had the bird on a bunk, wrapped in fur like an infant, a belt around its middle and docile as a kitten. Like I said, amazing. She has a way of making the impossible real. Always did.”

  “I hope that still rings true.”

  “So do I. You’ll send forces wherever justice takes her?”

  “I will. Myself, among others. You’ll go?” Balant asked, hating the need in his voice.

  “Of course. That freckled child is the reason I stayed chieftain. I knew she would prove her mettle, I just didn’t know we would have to do it under these circumstances.” He looked at the camp, now close enough to see. “Or this soon.”

  “She is young, but so were we during the Delta Wars and the raids from Silence.”

  “Different thing, friend. If we lost in the delta, we could come home. If we lose control of the north, and the tribes can pour into the north without us to stop them?” Kinnibek asked.

  “Then we have no home at all,” Balant said.

  After a gravid pause, Kinnibek said what they both feared. “That leaves us with one choice. Corra must deliver justice at all costs. Even her life.”

  As Balant gathered his thought, the winds rose while the mountains watched, ancient and uncaring. “And, if necessary, ours.”

  Nolan and the Real Girl

  West

  “How—how long will it take?” Nolan asked.

  Nani sighed, her form flickering in the wan light. “Less if you keep your gums closed. And no, I will not slip. I have enough reserves for this and a brief chat, and then I will go into a shutdown phase until my tap is restored. Is the strap too tight?”

  “Um. No?”

  “As expected,” Nani said. Nolan was on a table, lying flat as a robotic arm descended toward his bionic eye. Cherry was silent, having been shut down for the moment in order to effect a seamless transfer. Even though the eye was a machine, it was still a disconcerting moment, especially when Nani chuckled, then the three ceramo-metal fingers wiggled. The movement was—whimsical.

  “Is it going to—fuck,” Nolan hissed.

  With a deft click, the eye was out, and for the first time in years, Nolan was alone in his own mind.

  Avina hissed. “Better you than me.”

  “Thanks for that,” Nolan grunted.

  “My pleasure.” Avina gave a jaunty wave, but Nolan only saw half of it, at the limit of his periphery.

  The surgical arm whirled to the second table, where Cherry’s new body waited. She would be tall, with dark hair and skin that was set to a default golden tan but could alter—along with her eye color—as needed. The arm flickered down, and Cherry’s CPU snicked into place without any fuss.

  The android didn’t move.

  “You know, it occurs to me that I’m missing an eye,” Nolan remarked in a conversational tone. “And I have an open socket. You know, missing an eye.”

  “You complain a great deal for someone of your career. Stay still. Installation of secondary unit will be—”

  “Fuck! Again?”

  “—a momentary discomfort. Let the record state that the patient is, in the parlance of my granddaughter’s time, a whiny little bitch.”

  Avina laughed in great gales, only settling when Nani put hands on hips and scowled in a perfect impression of not angry, just disappointed.

  “Well, up yours too, lady. I—oh. I can see.”

  Nani waved a spectral arm. “Voila. You’re linked to Cherry in much the same way you were before, but with a range limited only by her body’s battery power. Since she encapsulates a pocket reactor, you may safely assume that you’re able to remain in contact with her anywhere on Janusia, provided you do not enter a deep cave system. Do you have any questions, or do you need a bankie?”

  “Actually, I never had a bankie, or a blanket, or even a toy. I appreciate your concern, though,” Nolan said, stifling a laugh.

  “In fairness, he probably didn’t have a bed. Brightline is no joke,” Avina quipped.

  “Doesn’t make up for laughing at my pain, but it’s a start. What about Cherry?” Nolan asked.

  “A word before she wakes up. Or, rather, I wake her up. And this is something you must not forget. Ever,” Nani said, and every word sounded as serious as an oath.

  Nolan sat up, staring at Nani in stereo once again. “I’m listening.”

  “There is a reason for technology failing on this world, and it rests with the Calabria Prelate. My instincts tell me they use the Pox and other techniques, like broadband scramblers and even the occasional EMP masked as a storm. If they’re keeping a populace cowed, the reason is money. To do it this long means there is more than a human presence at work.”

  “You mean Venkatesh, the other AI?”

  “Possibly, but we AIs are not as mobile.” Nani pointed at Cherry. “She is highly mobile, as are you. Go to the river and find the oppressors. They will make themselves known to you, and maybe you can achieve our original purpose.”

  “What was that, if not profit?”

  “A place to live in safety, where humans may thrive outside the hideous miscarriage of justice that the galaxy had become, even when we were in transit. That is clearly not possible with the Calabrians still present. Your arrival is an accident that need not be wasted. Your eye is hardened, as is Cherry’s body. You will function and be immune to the tactics of the Prelate. I only ask one thing.” She gestured to Cherry, who sat up without hesitation.

  “What’s that, Nani?” Cherry asked. Her eyes were both an astonishing green, her body posed in a state of complete alert.

  “That was fast,” Nolan murmured.

  “I am an android. And the shell was in perfect stasis. No time like the present to get going.”

  “How do you feel?” Avina asked.

  That brought Cherry up short. After a long moment, she smiled, then pushed a lock of dark brown hair behind her ear. “Complete. Capable.” She shrugged. “New.”

  “Then my time to rest has arrived,” Nani said. “I’ve unlocked the ignition code to the jumpship, and the
exit port is open to the sky for ten minutes. The ship isn’t very accurate, but it’s fast, and you will arrive at some part of the river valley in less than thirteen minutes of flight time.”

  “Nani? What was the thing you wanted?” Nolan asked.

  The AI smiled, even as she began to dim. “Come tell me my children are free.”

  “Your children?” Avina asked.

  Nani’s digital ghost was barely an outline, but her words were clear. “The descendants of our ships are still here, mixed with other arrivals in a system that uses them as chattel. Free them, and then deliver the message to me so that I may rest for good.”

  “I—I will,” Nolan said, but she was already gone.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Corra and Ainault

  North

  “How many years have you trained for war?” Ainault asked.

  Corra’s answer was immediate. “All of them.”

  “Good, good. You’ve been at the fields and mats for all your life. Even the archery range, the ring. All the places we shape the next line of defense against the tribes of Silence, but you haven’t been here. Do you know what I do?” He was picking through a bookcase, the spines bound in hide of an unknown animal, lettered in bold, silver letters. She could read some of them from her chair, and none of the titles struck her as being overly concerned with the art of war.

  “I know. You’re used to things like knives or a sword. Finding the right bone to break, and how to ride and swim and hide and all manner of most indelicate things designed to put you on the throne and keep you there. Do you know the most obvious sign that you’re fulfilling the role of queen?”

  “The crown,” she said.

  His head listed slowly, considering her answer. “Elaborate, please.”

  “The crown is on my head, not anywhere else. I’d say that indicates my efforts as queen are, at worst, competent. If the crown isn’t on my head, or my head is separated from my shoulder, then I can safely assume I’ve been, ahh, asked to leave the office, so to speak.”