by Sky Corbelli
stables. And by an insatiable vixen who could tax the stamina of the Elements themselves, no less.”
“My goodness, you really are going religious on me, aren't you?” She winked at him. “Don't worry, if I see one of the Elements, I'll be sure to test your little theory about their stamina.” Lena peered out into the town. “I should be getting back before I'm missed. We wouldn't want daddy getting the wrong idea, now, would we?”
The mayor's words from earlier in the day suddenly echoed in Marcus's head. He shifted uncomfortably on the bed of hay. “Listen, Lena, about your father...”
The girl snorted at him. “Oh please, not you too. Did he give you the gelding speech?” The young woman put on a gruff tone of voice. “'If you hurt my daughter, I swear by the all the Elements that I'll...” Her hands moved in an abrupt wringing motion and shook her head. “As if you could hurt me, sweet Marcus.” She gave him a fond smile. “I've got you wrapped around my little finger.”
Marcus let out a bark of laughter, and then quickly covered his mouth, seeing a few people in the town below glance around in confusion. “As you say, my lady,” he whispered, sketching a little bow from where he lay.
Lena giggled as she stepped onto the ladder leading down. “Anyway, I have places to be,” she gave him a haughty look. “Enjoy your larking about, peon.”
She descended out of sight, ghosting out of the stable, and Marcus lay back with a sigh of contentment. This is the life, he thought, eyes drifting closed as he basked in the early afternoon sun.
“It isn't going to work, Garren,” a furtive voice whispered from somewhere below him.
Marcus's eyes flew open. Had he fallen asleep? He checked out the window. The sun was just beginning its descent. More than a few hours, then. I was more tired than I thought.
“If you’re going to complain, at least make yourself useful while you do it.”
Marcus blinked. He recognized that voice. Inching forward, careful to keep quiet, he peered over the edge of the hay loft and saw the traveler captain, Garren, checking something inside a big, black box. The man was almost directly beneath him.
“You saw how they looked when you were talking about the flowers.” Another man in the uniform all the travelers wore paced into view, boxy weapon cradled in his hands, eyes darting around the room. Marcus jerked his head back, praying he hadn't been seen. “We should just cut and run, Garren. They're never gonna let us take them.”
What? Marcus's stomach fluttered in panic. They're planning to take the lilies? Cautiously, he crawled forward again, until he could just see Garren pick up and inspect a strange, glowing cylinder. A thick mist poured off the object and flowed from the open box, pooling ominously on the floor.
“Maybe they won't trade for a few trinkets, so what? You worry too much.” The traveler captain gave an easy shrug, replacing the cylinder in the box. “They're practically falling all over themselves to make us happy. Just give it a little time; it'll work out, you'll see.”
“Okay, look,” the other man continued, “supposing that your crazy plan works, what then? We freeze them and take the whole field back to Sanctuary? We can't even get back in!”
Sanctuary? Freeze them? What in the Mother's name are they talking about? Marcus grimaced. None of what they’re saying makes sense.
“You let me deal with that, and just make sure the flame retardants are ready. Apparently the lilies flare up when they're cut, and I don't want to lose any.” Marcus could hear the smile in Garren's voice. “And don’t worry about getting back in. We've got friends among the Legacies back home.”
“Fine, so your friends get us in, then what? The Engelmann Legacy has been cultivating flowers nicer than those things for hundreds of years. Who's going to buy them? How exactly are we going to turn a profit on this little scheme?”
“Are you joking?” Garren’s voice was incredulous. “I've been working for one botanical Legacy or another for years. A flower that generates its own heat, that blooms year-round and doesn't cause any appreciable strain on the environment? They'll piss themselves when they hear about it. They'd kill for a glimpse at the genetic code, if the research wasn't illegal. And mark my words; they will bury us in credits trying to outbid each other on our haul. Or, we go straight to the people, lock this little town down and come back for a harvest every few months. Start our own Legacy, the first trade Legacy ever. We'll be so rich, our butlers will need butlers. We've got it made.”
Marcus frowned. He didn't necessarily understand everything the man was talking about, but he had dealt with enough merchants from the south to recognize the sound of greed when he heard it, and knew enough about the shaman from the far north to understand fanatical zeal. It was never a good combination.
“I don't know, Garren...”
“And did you see the food they gave us last night? It was fresh; freaking picked out of the ground, cut right off a pig!” Marcus was confused by the note of wonder in the man's voice. Where else would food come from? “You know the last time some Legacy brat ate real pork? Nearly five hundred years ago, before the organic recycling program.”
“Didn't taste like anything special to me,” the other man grumbled.
“And that's why you'll always be a grunt. You just don't have the refinement to know when you're practically a king.”
“Maybe I'm just grunt, Garren, but I've got eyes, you know? You saw that storm when we were making re-entry, down below us in the mountains. It was hunting us. And those flowers? They have a fire burning inside of them. This isn't right. There's something... unnatural going on here.”
“You're just imagining things.” The vigorous man’s tone was almost too bluff.
“And what's up with the weather? I've seen the old climate maps. We should be in the dead of winter, snowed in up to our eyeballs, but instead there's barely an inch of powder on the ground. That’s more than just a light winter. I’m telling you, it isn’t natural…”
“It's been five hundred years since those were current. Things change. Now drop it.”
“They don't change that much, Garren,” the other man insisted. “That's not even mentioning that there are people out here to begin with! This was supposed to be a prospecting mission, weapons and gear to handle any wild animals that might have adapted and survived, equipment to bring back samples for study. Instead we find a whole world full of people! What happened five hundred years ago? Blood of the Founders, why are there all these people outside of Sanctuary?!”
“It doesn't matter,” the captain's voice went cold. “Drop it.”
“And what about that kid from the meeting? Asking where we’re from like that? Even the bloody mayor gave us a funny look when that came up! I'm telling you, something isn't right about all this. They're on to us, and I don't want to be around when–”
“His own brother didn't believe him.” The man’s voice was hard, dangerous. “And I said drop it.”
“I'm just worried is all, can't blame a guy for–”
“Worried? Is that all? Fine. Since you’re so worried, you just drew guard duty every night till we get home. Hope you enjoy it while the rest of us are taking in the sights.”
“Aw, hey, Garren, I didn't mean–”
“Get to your post, soldier; we're taking the flowers tonight and I want to make sure there’s nothing to worry about,” Garren growled, storming out of the stable. The other man shouldered his little box, what had Anthony called it... his gun, as he glumly followed the captain out.
Marcus stared after them for a time, willing himself to wake up, praying to the Mother and all the Elements that it had just been a dream. He gulped and checked outside. The sun was already halfway down. That doesn't leave much time.
He began pulling on his clothes. He had to tell someone about this. Anthony had been right. Marcus didn't know if they really were from the Forbidden City, but at that point it hardly mattered. They're planning to steal the lilies. We have to stop them. He shivered, eyes coming to rest on the field of lilies, th
e flowers swaying in the gentle wind. Before they steal Fire's blessing.
Finding Help
Marcus slipped out the window at the back of the stables. His eyes darted around as he watched for any indication that he had been noticed. No alarm was raised, no travelers came running. He let out a sigh of relief and took off at a loping run.
Okay, think Marcus! You've just overheard a plot to steal the ember lilies. Who do you go to first? The mayor? Marcus nodded to himself, heading up the hill toward the mayor's estate. He glanced over his shoulder, but there was no sign of pursuit. He laughed under his breath. He was going to make it. So, after the mayor, we're going to need to rouse the town guard. Might be tricky, can't really know how many of them have done any training. Do we even have weapons available? If only there was some way to–
He slammed into someone.Did the travelers get ahead of me! He caught himself, rolling to the balls of his feet, ready to fight... and saw who he had hit.
“Marcus?” Anthony looked up from the ground, rubbing his chest. Marcus struggled to get his heart rate back under control. His brother, it was just his brother. “Why are you running around like that? You could hurt someone... like me! And where have you been, I've been looking for you everywhere!”
“Anthony, good,” Marcus panted, throwing another frantic look over his shoulder. “Listen, those men, the travelers–”
“I