Haladras (4 page)

“How long have the troops been stationed on Quoryn?”

“I cannot definitively say,” replied the captain. “But the
streets of the city were filled with them. They seemed well established.”

More low murmuring.

Another Council member stood and spoke.

“My lord, can we trust the veracity of this account? Is it
not safe to believe Quoryn has rebelled against the empire and is growing an
army to overthrow our king?”

This was met with a chorus of supporters, as well as the
angry cries of naysayers.

Another Council member rose.

“Captain Arturo’s word is unimpeachable,” he said. “If he
says Quoryn’s new governor has power vested him from King Tarus, then I deem
that nothing illegal is happening on Quoryn.”

“Here! Here!” rejoined several voices.

“Then the king has struck a blow to Haladras!”

The hall burst into an uproar of voices. Council member
contended against council member; citizen against citizen. The bedlam persisted
for many minutes before Aberforce managed to restore order. He had taken to his
feet and held out his arms like an enchanter casting a spell. Eventually the
assemblage calmed and returned to their seats. The viceroy remained silent for
some time afterwards.

At last he spoke.

“I, too, doubt not the veracity of Captain Arturo’s account.
I will admit that this news troubles me. This unfortunate turn of events puts
Haladras in a dire state. Yet I will have no man here challenge the goodwill of
our Lord Protector, King Tarus. He clearly has wise motives for what’s been
done on Quoryn. We are merely uninformed.

“As to the matter of Governor Dungrad’s new trade law, I
suspect King Tarus is ignorant. I shall immediately make preparations to travel
to Ahlderon and make an appeal before the throne on behalf of our people.
First, however, I will visit Governor Dungrad and discuss possible amendments
to their trade law. In the meantime, I suggest we brace ourselves for the
worst. We do not know how long it will take to correct this matter. We must
more strictly ration our provisions, and if necessary draw from our emergency
stores.”

The viceroy turned to Captain Arturo.

“Thank you for your report, Captain. And for your loyalty to
Haladras. I know you did all in your power to protect our best interest. Is
there anything else you wish to report before the Council ere we adjourn?”

“There is, my lord.”

A simultaneous shudder swept over the assemblage as everyone
readied himself for more ill tidings.

“Proceed,” commanded the viceroy with noticeable reluctance.

“You need not fear, my lord. The worst is told. I have only
some news to convey which has come to my ears through my crew. They are strange
tidings. I doubt they hold much import. Still, I have heard enough sources confirm
what I’m about to tell you that I feel they have merit. It is this:

“As we went from port to port, we heard talk of some
unidentified insects swarming through cities and settlements, stinging large
numbers of people, then mysteriously vanishing. This hasn’t happened only on
one planet. The same story was told on both Quoryn and Fenorra. Though I
haven’t heard of any death or illness caused by the insect stings, the insects’
existence has inspired considerable fear in the people of those planets.

“No one appears to know what these insects are or from where
they originated. But that they have managed to migrate from one planet to
another is certain.”

Arturo then bowed and stepped back a pace, a sign that his
report was finished.

“Well, Captain,” said the viceroy, smiling, “those are
strange tidings indeed. Like the stories children tell to frighten one
another.”

Laughter rang out through the hall.

“Yes, my lord, they are strange,” replied Arturo coldly.
Then, bowing once more, he turned on his heels and exited the center floor,
holding his head high.

Arturo’s exit and completed report signaled the end of the
council meeting. What everyone had gathered to hear had been heard. The viceroy
made a few closing remarks, repeating his promise to seek the king’s aid on
behalf of Haladras, then adjourned the meeting.

Skylar made his way out of the Council house with Kindor.
Their going was slow. Skylar still could not walk without pain. The throng, all
trying to exit the building at once, pressed against them from all sides.
Suddenly from behind, a voice called to him. He turned around to find the red
freckled face of Rolander Finch staring at him.

“Oh, hi, Roland. I didn’t notice you.”

“That’s okay,” replied Rolander in his nasally voice. “How
are you doing? I heard about the accident at the docks.”

Skylar flushed.
How many people know about that?

“Fine,” said Skylar vaguely. “So, what did you think about
Arturo’s report?” he quickly followed up, hoping to avoid further discussion
about
the incident.

“Very interesting,” replied Rolander, sounding suddenly like
an academic professor. “The king’s motives for placing a governor on Quoryn and
giving him additional troops are untenable—without a doubt. He’s not to be
trusted.”

“Those are strong words about the king, Roland.”

“Maybe, but they are true, all the same. What really
interest me are those so-called insects.”

Skylar raised an eyebrow skeptically. “Why do you say that?”

“Well,” continued Rolander eagerly, “my father told me that
he talked with one of Arturo’s crew members yesterday. He and my father are
good friends. His friend told him that several of the insects have been caught
and dissected by entomologists. They said that they’re not insects of any kind.
They’re machines.”

FOUR

K
INDOR RETURNED SKYLAR
to his
home just after dark. The
lights from Skylar’s cave glowed warmly. Skylar
imagined his mother sitting anxiously by the door for him to return.

“I’ll stop by again in a few days to see how you’re holding
up,” said Kindor, as Skylar climbed out of the speeder. “And don’t worry about
Rasbus. He’ll come around.”

So saying, Kindor flew off into the night.

Inside, Skylar was surprised to find his mother in their
small sitting room talking with his uncle Lasseter. He hadn’t expected his
uncle to pay a visit, and certainly not so late in the day. Not that his uncle
ever did anything predictable.

His mother smiled at him as he entered the sitting room. But
Skylar noted a touch of guilt in her eyes, as if she were hiding something from
him. Perhaps it was just the anxiety she felt over him being gone and not well.
He shrugged it off.

“I’m glad you’re home,” she said. “Are you feeling alright?
You’re probably tired. I hope you didn’t overdo it.”

She was on her feet in an instant, encouraging Skylar to
rest in one of the recumbent chairs.

“I’m fine, Mother—really,” he insisted.

He sat in the chair, nonetheless.

“What did you think of the Council meeting, Skylar?” asked
his uncle who looked rather serious. Of late, his uncle had been acting
inexplicably grave. Tonight, though, he seemed even more so.

Lasseter was the only family Skylar had beside his mother.
His uncle was sort of a father to Skylar. He had been present for all the major
events in Skylar’s life. Birthdays, holidays, his first day at the Academy, the
start of his apprenticeship at the docks—everything. But his uncle was
eccentric. Everyone in the Gorge knew it. And the older Skylar grew the more it
bothered him, the more he wished he didn’t have an uncle who lived secluded in
some secret desert cave; an uncle who didn’t always go about in the unforgiving
Haladrian sun cloaked and hooded, like a bandit in disguise.

Lasseter wore the cloak even now, as he waited for Skylar to
reply. His piercing green eyes were fixed intently on Skylar. They were the
same eyes Skylar had.

“It was very...interesting,” replied Skylar, stealing
Rolander's observation.

“Indeed,” said his uncle. “Yes, some might call Arturo’s
report interesting. I would not.”

“How is that, Uncle? Were you there?”

“No,” he replied, and went on without giving any
explanation. “These insects of which Arturo informed the Council…,” he paused,
the expression on his face becoming even graver. “You must stay away from
them.”

“But they aren't on Haladras.”

“They will be,” he said, as he abruptly stood and pulled the
hood over his face.

“How do you...do you know what they are?”

Lasseter had already turned and was making his way for the
portal. He paused briefly and said over his shoulder, “They are dangerous. That
is all you need to know.” Then he slipped out into the darkness.

Skylar sat staring at the portal, baffled.

“Well, that was odd—even for Uncle Lasseter,” said Skylar to
his mother, who he hoped would offer some sort of explanation. “What makes him
so certain that they’ll appear on Haladras? Does he know what they are?”

“I don’t know, Sky,” she said, sighing in exhaustion. “But I
think you should listen to your uncle. If you see them, do whatever it takes to
stay away from them.”

Skylar decided not to mention what Rolander had said about the
insects actually being machines.

The next day Skylar returned to the Academy. It had taken
some persuasion to convince his mother that he was well enough to make the walk
across the Gorge by himself. She had only reluctantly agreed after he told her
that he couldn’t afford to get behind in astrophysics. Which was not entirely
untrue. Though, he doubted an extra day or two would put him too far behind.
The truth was, he wanted to go. He hated to be home all day with nothing to do.

When he arrived at school that morning, he quickly
discovered that news about his accident at the docks had spread through the
entire Academy. Classmates he had never talked to before, both senior and
junior, swarmed around him like vultures to a carcass. Questions shot at him from
all sides. Dizzied by the swirl of interrogation, he mumbled out a few
unsatisfactory answers and tried to push free of the crowd, toward his lecture
hall.

“That’s enough! Off to class, now,” cried a shrill voice
that no one at the Academy could mistake. “Break up this mob. All of
you...off.”

It was Professor Meese, the headmistress.

The crowd dispersed as quickly as it had assembled. No one
wished to be singled out by the strict disciplinarian.

Skylar, too, had no wish to be loitering in the hall. He turned
to retreat with his fellow classmates. But that same voice halted him in
mid-stride.

“Mr. Lancewright?” she said commandingly. “Mr. Skylar
Lancewright.”

Skylar turned around to face her.

“Come with me,” she said, turning on her heel and striding
briskly toward her office. Skylar swallowed and tried to keep up as best he
could.

The headmistress brought him to her office and closed the
door behind him.

“Have a seat, Mr. Lancewright.”

Skylar sat down in a solitary chair in front of her large
stone desk. The headmistress walked around behind the desk and sat down. Skylar
had never been so close to this woman before, never had taken notice of her
outward appearance. She was a tall woman, thin as a desert reed. She wore her
pale hair pulled back tightly in a bun which gave her long narrow face, sunken
cheeks and pointed nose full prominence. Her clothes were simple and
unflattering, but impeccable, without crease or wrinkle.

“Skylar,” she said, sitting perfectly erect in her chair,
hands clasped and resting on her desk. “I have heard about your accident at the
harbor.”

Skylar flushed slightly. Had anyone not heard?

“I wanted to make sure that you feel well enough to return
to your classes. You needn’t feel pressure to resume your studies before you
have completely convalesced. I am confident I can arrange an appropriate level
of makeup work from your professors—nothing overwhelming.”

For a moment Skylar didn’t know how to respond. Was this the
same headmistress everyone avoided at all cost?

“Thank you, Professor,” he finally stammered out, “but I’m
really feeling much better. Besides, I’d rather be here than sitting at home.”

The hard line that formed the headmistress’s mouth twitched
slightly at the corners and she sat taller in her chair.

“Well!” She said with unmasked delight, “I certainly cannot
argue with such an answer. I’m sure, then, you’re eager to get to your classes.
I shall detain you no longer. But, please, let me know if there’s anything I
can do for you.”

He thanked her, then hurriedly left her office, eager to be
free of that uncomfortable situation.

When Skylar stepped in his lecture hall, he found that
Professor Valenkr had not yet begun his pedantic drone about Applied
Geophysical Computation. Most of the class was seated, already. He hurried to
find a free seat among the gossiping huddles of students, who all seemed to
halt their various conversations to stare at him as he passed by. He found his
usual seat next to Rolander empty and sat down, exhaling audibly. The
freckle-faced boy beamed at him.

“Hey, Skylar!” said Rolander enthusiastically. “Feeling
better?”

Skylar nodded, a bit tired of everyone asking him how he
felt.

“So, does everyone know about the accident?” Skylar
whispered quietly.

“There might be a few oblivious simpletons out there.
Outside of those though...”

Rolander smiled apologetically.

Skylar shook his head. “Even Professor Meese knows. She
pulled me into her office to talk about it.”

“She did? What did she—”

“Hey, Skylar!” shouted a voice that made Rolander halt his speech.
“I heard you helped save the docks when Captain Arturo’s ship got caught on a
tow cable.”

“Helped!” retorted a sneering voice that made Skylar's teeth
clench. He knew that voice only too well. Drake Blacksands. The most pestering,
contradictory and meddlesome person Skylar had ever met.

Skylar quickly turned toward the front of the lecture hall,
hoping to see Professor Valenkr. His heart sank. The wordy, monotone professor
was still absent from the hall. Of all the days for him to be late..
.

Ordinarily Professor Valenkr began his lectures promptly on
schedule, being eager to drown his pupils in the deluge of his vast knowledge.

“Helped?” repeated Drake, as if the word were vulgar. “He
didn’t help. He was the
reason
the deck was almost destroyed.” Drake
looked at Skylar with his round face and gave him one of his notoriously
annoying smiles. “Not only that,” he went on, “but he lost his balance while
flying his jetwing and fell like an idiot onto the deck. He almost killed
himself.”

The entire class erupted with laughter. Skylar began to feel
as if he’d made a bad decision in coming to school so soon. Yet he couldn’t
just sit there and let Drake make a fool out of him. He felt himself growing
hotter with anger every second.

“It wasn’t my fault the dock was nearly destroyed,” Skylar
blurted out.

“Oh really? You were operating the winch with the cable that
didn’t release, weren’t you?”

“Yes, but it got stuck.”

“Stuck!” Drake gasped in mock astonishment. “That must have
been scary for you, Skylar. Except that those winches don’t get stuck. It’s
impossible. Everyone knows that. Although, maybe for an inept dockhand like you
it might seem stuck.”

“It was stuck! I—”

“Settle down, settle down” interrupted the flat voice of
Professor Valenkr, who was just walking into the lecture hall. Skylar and Drake
both abandoned the argument. Sitting back in his chair, Skylar took several
deep, forceful breaths. If only Drake Blacksands wasn’t two hundred pounds and
nearly a head taller than him...if only. Not that he would ever really start a
brawl with anyone. That wasn’t Skylar’s way. But if there was anyone on the
planet of Haladras he would like to grind into the sandstone, Drake Blacksands
was that person.

Professor Valenkr’s lecture seemed to drag on longer than
usual. Perhaps because Skylar’s thoughts were focused on a particular
over-sized classmate. Finally the lecture ended. Skylar had heard nothing of
it.

He got up and moved as quickly as his bruised muscles would
allow toward the exit, hoping to avoid any further confrontation with Drake.
Suddenly, he had an idea, and made his way straight toward Professor Valenkr,
instead. The professor was still collecting his books and parchments when
Skylar approached.

“Professor Valenkr?” said Skylar tentatively.

The professor looked up with a startled expression on his
face.

“Did you say something, my boy?” he asked, his monotone
voice sounding higher than normal.

“Yes, Professor. I was wondering if you could explain that
last point of your lecture to Drake. I don’t think he quite followed it. He’s a
bit shy, you know?”

“What’s that? Drake. Which one’s Drake?” He looked up toward
the rest of the hall and squinted his eyes.

“The large one, Professor.”

“Ah, yes, that one. I’m not surprised. Very well,” he said
as waddled off to intercept Drake.

It wasn’t really a lie, Skylar told himself. He had no doubt
Drake hadn’t understood a word of Professor Valenkr’s lecture.

The few remaining hours of classes passed uneventfully. He
succeeded in avoiding Drake, who was doubtless irate over Skylar’s prank, and
mostly the other classmates stopped talking about what happened at the docks.

By the end of his classes, he felt tired and achy as he
walked back to the Gorge. He was walking as quickly as he could, hoping Drake
wouldn't decide to come looking for him. In his condition, and without his
jetwing, he felt vulnerable. He glanced back a couple of times, expecting at
any moment to see Drake’s massive form lumbering after him.

He hadn’t gone far when he heard a voice call his name. His
heart stuttered in his chest. The voice didn’t belong to Drake, though. It
sounded too delicate, too feminine. Turning around hesitantly, he saw the last
person on Haladras he expected to call his name. Kendyl Windlem.

Smiling radiantly, she hurried over to him. Skylar froze
where he stood, unable to move or speak. Had she—the prettiest girl on
Haladras—really called his name? He had never spoken to her before, never dared
to. Her beauty somehow made her seem unapproachable—forbidden even. But there
she was, the crush of his life, jogging lithely toward him, smiling.

”Hi,” she said in a voice that turned his legs to mush.

Skylar stammered out some reply that made him sound like he
could talk.

“I know we’ve never met before...my name’s Kendyl.”

Skylar only smiled dumbly. She tucked a long strand of her
flaming hair behind one ear and bit her lower lip.

“Um…I just wanted to tell you,” she went on, “that I don’t
believe what Drake said in class today. From what I heard, you saved the dock
and probably several lives, too. My brother told me it was the most daring
maneuver he ever saw.”

“Your brother?” said Skylar, having regained some control
over his tongue. “Does he work at the harbor?”

“Yes. My older brother—Kael. Do you know him?”

Skylar shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.”

“It doesn’t matter really. I just thought you should know
not everyone thinks like Drake.”

“Thanks,” replied Skylar. “I wish Rasbus felt the same way.”

Kendyl nodded her head sympathetically. “Yes, my brother
told me about that, too. ‘Raging mad’ was how he described him. Rasbus won’t
terminate your apprenticeship, will he?”