City in the Sky (42 page)

“I don't think
anyone
has ever made that long a flight on pure crystal power before,” Alraeis told Erik, his voice suffused with pride for his ships and men. “It got us here in half the time the Draconans expected, and we knew long before they expected us to. Nonetheless,” he continued softly, “we would have been too late. They'd brought heavy anti-air weapons, Erik, ready to set up their own defenses around Newport.”

Erik looked at him in surprise and he nodded. “Oh yes. We could have taken them,” the admiral said coldly, “but the price would have been high, especially with dragons around to repeat what Fifth Squadron did to the bastards themselves. Your stand at the Square, however, sucked down the manpower they needed to assemble the guns.

“And then you lured the bastards into the perfect trap,” he finished with a cold smile. “All that is left for me and the rest of the Fleet to do is turn a defeat into an outright rout, which our people are doing right now.”

Alraeis took Erik's hand and shook it firmly, then turned to Dekker and shook the Wind Guard's hand. “Thank you,” he said simply. “Between the two of you, Newport is saved.”

“And the Draconans?” Erik asked.

The Admiral's faced almost seemed to turn to stone. “This will not go unpunished,” he said flatly. “I am afraid, Lord Tarverro, that you have returned to your people only in time to join us at war.”

Antecendants

“A lance of rocs followed the last group in, sir,” the Skyborne officer, once General Adaelis' aide, now Major
Kolanis
's aide, reported to Kolanis. “They broke off before we could engage them, but they definitely know at least the general area where we are now.”

Kolanis said nothing for a long moment, surveying the encampment where, not so long ago, the vast host of the Draconans had been encamped. Now, a bare handful of dragons, mostly greens with a handful of browns, and their riders occupied it. Thousands had ridden forth, and barely two hundred would return.

The tents and huts of the camp would be given over to fire now. They'd been borne here by blacks, and the smaller dragons that had survived couldn't carry them. Not for the weeks-long journey home.

This was but the latest in the long series of wars between the Draconans and the Aeradi, Kolanis knew, but he didn't think either side had ever scored such a crushing victory – and certainly not when the other had come so close to winning a total victory of their own, and inflicted so much damage along the way.

But that was how it had turned out. Adaelis was dead, along with the vast majority of the army he had commanded. It was left to Sky-Major Kolanis, now, to command the survivors of the host.

Adaelis had told him to wait at the camp for stragglers for two days. They'd now waited four, and the Aeradi were getting closer. Another day, perhaps even only a few more hours, and the Lancers would find them.

The sky ships would follow, with the cannon and the crys-bow and the landing parties, and Kolanis's meagre army would not survive the battle. He'd waited as long as he could, and now he had no choice.

“Tell the men to pack up,” he instructed, his voice hoarse with suppressed grief. “Take only what we need for the trip home. Burn the rest.”

The aide nodded and silently withdrew. The man was competent – otherwise Adaelis would have long ago broken him out of the military, Skyborne or no – so Kolanis would trust him to do his job.

For himself, he simply turned his gaze to the sky to the west, the sky that would bear him to the mountains of his home.

The first three days after the battle were dedicated to cleaning up and repairing the damage, and even that was only enough to make a beginning on the wreckage the Draconan attack had left behind.

On the fourth day, however, the King had decreed a day of rest, of remembrance for those who had died, and to honor those who had defended the city in her darkest hour. Those like Erik
septon
Tarverro, who had spent most of the last three days either in meetings of the Council of
Septon
s or coordinating relief efforts, or Dekker
sept
Corens, who had spent
all
of the last three days up to his elbows in repair work.

They stood in the Square of the Gods, where most of the damage
had
been cleared up, and faced a silent crowd of their people. A single line of carpet, guarded on both sides by deadly-neat files of an odd mix of Wind Guards and militia, drawn not from any formal unit, but from the soldiers who mere days ago had held this Square against all odds.

Erik and Dekker had paused at the start of the carpet, looking across the Square at where Lokar
septon
Adelnis, King of Newport, waited for them. Both men were dressed in uniform, with black ribbons to mark mourning.

There should have been four people there that morning, Erik reflected as they started down the corridor of men toward the King. But Harmon
hept
Ikeras had died aboard the
Tarverro
, and while the half-wrecked flagship of Sub-Admiral the Mage Lady Desira
sept
Mogan, commander of the Fifth Battle Squadron, had survived the desperate sky battle over Newport, the Admiral who had inflicted such stunning losses on their enemy had not.

So only the two men who'd first held this very Square and then used the
Tarverro
as bait to lure the Draconans into the deadliest trap in years were to be honored as living heroes. Most of the other honors of the day would be posthumous.

The King himself had fought in the battle, Erik reflected, held up in a private residence in the outer city with a number of Wind Guards and senior officers. Most of the officers had likely never expected to use their swords again in their lives, but when Lokar had taken up his own blade to fight the Draconans, they'd followed suit, barricading the residence's entrances first with furniture and then with the dead bodies of their enemies.

Somehow, that image reassured Erik far more than if the man had simply remained safe in the Palace while the battle was fought. His King had fought against the same enemy as him; he understood what had been asked.

Finally, the two 'heroes' reached the dais where Lokar stood, and knelt before their King.

“Get up,” Lokar told them quietly so no one else could hear. “Both of you. Neither of you has any need to kneel before me. If not for you, I would not have a city. Now stand.”

Obedient to their King's command, the two soldiers rose to their feet, and Lokar stepped backwards.

“People of Newport,” he said aloud, his voice echoing across the Square, “these two who stand here are, more than any other still alive” – the qualification was bitter in everyone's ears, but too many others had died to leave it out – “responsible for the salvation of our city.

“Should they be rewarded?” the King of Newport asked his people.

“AYE!” the crowd bellowed back, echoing off the buildings around them. At the front of the crowd, her eyes gleaming, Erik spotted Elysia
sept
Kirmon. For a moment, their eyes met, and then she glanced aside and Erik's attention returned to his King.

Lokar bowed his head to the crowd. “My people have spoken, and the only choice that remains to me is how to reward such deserving servants of our city.”

He turned to Dekker. “Captain Dekker
sept
Corens of my own Wind Guard, what reward would you ask of me?”

Despite the King's previous words, Dekker sank to his knees at Erik's side. “Sire, I would ask no reward; of you or of Newport,” he said softly. “I did only my duty.”

“I disagree,
Major
Dekker,” Lokar told him, and reached down to remove the Wind Guard's captain’s stars and replace them with the major's insignia he'd carried hidden in his hand, “commander of the First Battalion of my Wind Guard. I expect only the best from you and your men, Major.”

Still on his knees, Dekker still managed to salute. “Thank you, Sire,” he said.

Lokar raised his hand, forestalling the Wind Guard. “That promotion is within my power to give without thought,” he told both Dekker and the crowd. “Others are beyond my power on my own, but I am not alone.

“I speak in this,” he continued, “not as your King, but as
septon
Adelnis, for the Council of
Septon
s.”

The King left a pause, winking at Erik as he allowed his words to sink in. Erik remained stolidly silent. He knew what the Council had decided – he'd both voted and argued for it.

“Major Dekker
sept
Corens, it is rare for the Council to approve the creation of a new
sept
,” Lokar told Dekker. “In this case, however, given the nature of your service to the city of Newport, our decision was unanimous.

“No longer,” the King told his the kneeling and stunned man, “are you Dekker
sept
Corens. Rise, Dekker
septon
Deks, First Father of
sept
Deks.”

The new
septon
rose to his feet jerkily, as if someone else controlled his limbs. “Thank you,” he said, his voice choked.

Lokar gave him a firm nod, and then turned to Erik. “Lord Tarverro,” he said aloud, letting his voice carry once more, “what reward would
you
ask of me?”

“Nothing,” Erik told him. “You have nothing to reward me with that I do not possess.”

“Indeed,” Lokar agreed. “I cannot reward you with social rank, for you are among the highest of us. I cannot reward you with wealth, for you are wealthy beyond need. There is, indeed, nothing
I
can reward you with.”

Erik waited silently. He'd come to know his King well enough to realize there was another shoe coming.

“Fortunately, I am not limited to my own resources,” Lokar said softly, and then stepped back.

Another man, who Erik hadn't noticed before, stepped forward. He wore the yellow uniform of a wing-lancer with a single golden wing on his collar.

“Do you know who I am, Lord Tarverro?” the man asked.

Erik simply shook his head.

“My name is Joset
sept
Tukli,” the man said simply. “I am the Wing Lord of Newport, commander of the wing-lancers of our city in the name of our King. Kneel, Erik
septon
Tarverro.”

Stunned, Erik sank to his knees, and Tukli drew his sword and laid its point on the ground before Erik's eyes.

“Do you, Erik
septon
Tarverro, willingly take upon yourself the ranks, duties, privileges and responsibilities of a wing-lancer of the city of Newport?” he demanded.

Still in shock, Erik was frozen for a moment, before the new
septon
Deks kicked him in the heel.

“I do,” he confirmed, loudly.

“Do you, Erik
septon
Tarverro,” Tukli continued, as if the gap hadn't happened, “swear your service and your honor to our great city?”

“I do.”

“Do you, Erik
septon
Tarverro, swear to serve, so that others may not; to fight, so that others are free; and to die, so that others may live?”

“I do.”

“Then rise,” Tulki commanded, “Erik
septon
Tarverro, Wing-Leader of the city of Newport.”

As Erik rose, the Wing Lord offered him the traditional two weapons of the wing-lancer: the short-blade, identical to the normal tachi of an Aeradi warrior, and the spear-like long-blade only the Lancers used.

He accepted the weapons, and breathed deeply of the air of the city of his home.

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Other books by Glynn Stewart

Starship’s Mage

Starship’s Mage: Omnibus

Hand of Mars

Voice of Mars (upcoming, see
www.faolanspen.com
for latest estimated launch date)

Space Carrier Avalon

Space Carrier Avalon

The Stellar Fox (upcoming, see
www.faolanspen.com
for latest estimated launch date)

Stand Alone Novels

Children of Prophecy

Glossary

Aeradi
: Short and slight in build, the Aeradi are those who were drawn to the sea by the call of air and water. Using the magic of water and air, they forged the great sky cities of the Realm of the Sky, and raised themselves up as a people apart.

Bond
: The linked pair of a Draconan and a dragon. Also used to describe the link itself.

Draconans:
Tall and lithe, the Draconans are a race set apart not so much by blood as by mind. This race has the ability to communicate with dragons mind-to-mind. Much of both their economic and military systems are based around this ability.

Duredine
: Tall, fair and long-lived, the Duredine sit outside many of the affairs of the world. Their distaste for the use of metals leads them to produce fantastic woods in great demand outside their borders.

Dwarves:
Artificers, alchemists and miners without peer, Dwarves are a low-set, burly race, unmatched technologically on the world of Cevran.

Ept
: The clans of the Aeradi aristocracy. Can be used either as a reference to the members of the clans, or to the clans themselves. Also,
epti
or
epts

Hept
: A junior clan of the Aeradi aristocracy.

Hept
: The honorific granted to a member of a
hept
.

Hepta
: The senior female of the line who is not the
hepton
's wife. This is usually the
hepton
's mother.

Hepti
: The primary male heir of the
hept
.

Heptol
: The senior female of the line. Either the
hepton's
wife or the guardian of the
hept
's wealth and titles if there is no senior male.

Hepton
: The senior male and patriarch of the
hept
. The
hepton
is the holder of all titles and privileges granted to the
hept
.

Human
: Of middling height and build among the races, humans are the most widespread of the people of Cevran, ruling most of the flatlands of the continent.

Kep
:
Kep
families are those bound to the major
hept
and
sept
by interwoven oaths of fealty and protection.

Mermen
: Dusky skin and hidden gills mark the sentient inhabitants of Cevran's oceans. They are a reclusive race, and only a handful are ever seen above the waves.

Sept
: A senior clan of the Aeradi aristocracy.

Sept
: The honorific granted to a member of a
Sept
.

Septa
: The senior female of the line who is not the
Septon
's wife. This is usually the
Septon
's mother.

Septi
: The primary male heir of the
Sept
.

Septol
: The senior female of the line. Either the
Septon's
wife or the guardian of the
Sept
's wealth and titles if there is no senior male.

Septon
: The senior male and patriarch of the
Sept
. The
Septon
is the holder of all titles and privileges granted to the
Sept
.