Flight of the King (19 page)

THE BOYS TRUDGED THROUGH
the forest, making a wide loop away from the school. Taking the rigimotive from Fairmount was far too dangerous, Hal had
decided—they'd immediately be recognized as students. Also, Hal's pocket money would only take them so far. Their plan was to board the rigi in the village of Stillfall, midway
between Fairmount and the Gray City. A colony of bats rallied around them for most of the night, emitting a constant buzz of flapping wings. Occasionally, a few would dive down to alight on
Hal's shoulders and head.

In the morning, they hiked down the side of a cliff to the village, carefully negotiating the series of switchback trails that led to the low river valley. Once there, they boarded a cramped
rigimotive departing for the city that afternoon.

On board, Bailey tried to catch an hour's sleep, but he could see that Hal, who sat alert and staring out the window, was agitated.

“What are we going to do, once we find Taleth?” Hal whispered when Bailey asked what was wrong. “We're just a couple of kids. The people who have her…They might be like
Sucrette.”

“We'll just have to be smart,” said Bailey. “We'll try to sneak her away—and if that doesn't work, we might have to fight. But if we can free her
first…”

“We don't know who's got her,” said Hal. “Or where. Do you think we'll just come up on her tied to a tree? I doubt it'll be that easy.”

“We'll figure it out once we find her,” said Bailey.

Hal frowned and went back to staring out the window at the Fluvian rushing past.

Bailey thought to say more, but instead he rubbed his eyes. He craved sleep.

By the time they disembarked at a shambling platform in the Gudgeons, next to the shipping docks, Bailey was exhausted and more than a little worried. He hadn't felt a connection to Taleth
since they'd left Fairmount.

“This is perfect,” said Hal as they stepped down from the ramshackle rigi platform. He gestured to the docks. A few ships and barges floated motionless and unmanned in the deep
river.

“If Taleth's going east through the Red Hills, then the rigi will take us too far north,” explained Hal. “We'd have to backtrack south. But these barges go to the
south side of the hills. Much closer, and much faster. We just need to figure out which one of these is going in our direction.”

Bailey scanned the harbor. Several docks stretched out into the river, connected by a wooden pier covered with ropes, crates, and cast-off buoys. A commotion brewed next to one empty
dock—Bailey heard the sound of baying dogs echoing above the shouts of the men who stood gathered in a circle.

Hal's dark eyebrows furrowed. “I'm going to find the shipping master's office, and see if I can learn anything useful—will you survey the ships in port? We'll
need a list of their names.”

“Sure,” said Bailey, though he was distracted by the hurly-burly on the pier.

“Don't attract attention,” ordered Hal.

“Of course not,” Bailey answered.

As Hal took off toward a clapboard building with windows facing the port, Bailey scrambled over the mess of ropes and sea-worn boards that made up the docks. He heard growling and snarling as he
drew closer to the huddled group of men, and what he saw made his stomach turn.

Two dogs circled each other in the middle of the crowd. An old sailor with a face full of gray stubble sat off to the side, holding his fingers to his temples.

“That's right, get 'im!” shouted a man.

“Go on, Macon! I've got two snailbacks on the black one,” yelled another man, who patted the bristly sailor on the back. The dogs fought, howling as their sharp teeth and claws
tore into each other. There was blood everywhere—matted in their fur and streaked across the ground below them. With each wave of aggression from the dogs, Bailey could see that the man,
Macon, concentrated harder.

“He's
making
them fight!” he whispered to himself, wishing that Hal was still by his side to witness this. He knew that this was the work of the Dominae. The students
in Lyle's Science Club were just experimenting, but these men along the pier were using Dominance for fun, which made it even more sickening.

One of the two dogs, a slim, light brown mutt with short, smooth hair, yipped pitifully as the other dog bit fiercely into its ear. The men hollered. Some cheered, while others, who were clearly
Animas Dog as well, groaned.

“Ninnies!” yelled the man, Macon, at those who looked like they might be ill. “If you're feeling the pain, then you ain't doing it right! It's all in your
head! See, watch—”

Bailey felt like he needed to sit down—or to scream at someone. Fury built inside him.

The short-haired brown dog attacked, sinking its teeth into the other dog's glossy black hide. They both yelped and barked in pain. Bailey couldn't take it anymore. He fought his way
into the crowd with his fists clenched.

“STOP IT!” he shouted. The circle of men turned to look at him. “You're hurting them,” he continued, looking at the man they called Macon. He hoped he'd kept
his voice even.

The men grumbled. One shouted: “Whose boy is this? Get him out of here!”

Macon rose from his seat, and the two dogs slunk away, whimpering. The men, watching them go, became even more angry.

“I had five snailbacks on that terrier!” shouted one sailor.

“What's this? Can't handle a little game?” Macon said, approaching Bailey until the man towered over him. He was very tall and broad-shouldered, and the lines on his
weathered face and his gray hair showed him to be fairly old. He could still knock me flat, Bailey thought.

“It's not a game,” Bailey said.

“Oh, no?” said the sailor. “
We
were all having a fine time, before you barged in here.”

“Maybe the boy'd like to take their place in the ring, eh?” someone shouted, prompting uproarious laughter from the seamen.

“Two snailbacks he's out in the first round!” another man continued.

“I wouldn't even wager
one
on that,” said Macon darkly. “Little shrimp of a thing, thinks he can rumble with real men. Go home to your mother, boy, or to
whatever soft furry you're bound to.” The sailor turned around. “Now, who wants to see my dogs in a
real
fight? Got two more in yon crate ready for a licking!”

“Those animals don't understand why you're hurting them!” Bailey yelled.

Macon turned back to Bailey and regarded him like he was a cockroach who'd just crawled across his dinner table. Then he swung up with a heavy right fist, and punched Bailey right under
the chin. Bailey fell backward, splayed on the wooden planks of the dock. He could hear the other men laughing and exchanging bets now—it really
was
all a game to them.

“Little boy—don't think you can come onto my dock and tell me what's good in the eyes of the world,” Macon growled. “Unless you want worse next
time.”

Bailey groaned and lay back on the dock. The men stepped around him, spitting mockingly in his direction as they dispersed to their posts.

Suddenly, Bailey saw Hal's concerned face looming over him, upside down.

“Are you all right?!” Hal asked.

“Don't say ‘That was stupid,'” Bailey said.

Hal shook his head. He bent down, put both of his arms under Bailey's, and helped him to his feet.

“I wouldn't dare,” Hal said, “because you already knew that. Anything broken?”

Bailey shook his head.

“I don't think so…just sore.” He thanked Nature that Macon and the other men had decided to leave him alone when they did. He could have gotten worse.

Hal smiled sympathetically and put a hand on Bailey's shoulder.

“Look, you can't just rush into fights like that. Who knows whether the people who took Taleth are watching for us? We start pulling tails, and we're liable to get
bit.”

“You're starting to sound like Tremelo,” said Bailey.

“I'll take that as a compliment,” said Hal. “Now, while you were busy getting the ants beat out of you, I listened in on two of the men there talking about their next
shipment going out tonight—on the
Sly Lobster
, headed up to The Maze by special order of Viviana Melore.”

“What's The Maze?” asked Bailey. He leaned against a lobster crate as a fresh jolt of pain flashed down his side.

“It's the last city before the Red Hills and the Dust Plains! We can find out more about the Dominae's plans
and
follow Taleth.”

Bailey nodded at the plan as he breathed in deeply, which caused a thudding ache in his ribs. The thought of being so close to Viviana's operations made his blood speed up in his veins.
This was what he'd hoped being the Child of War would bring: the chance to make a difference against the Dominae.

“So, we'll be traveling by boat, then?” he asked.

“Just us, a bargeload of Dominae goods, and what are sure to be some pretty nasty-tempered guards,” Hal said. “But it beats another day on the rigimotive!”

Bailey scouted the
Sly Lobster
at its mooring as Hal ventured to a nearby market for some food. As he waited for Hal to return, Bailey thought about what would be said back at
Fairmount. Was Tremelo back? What would happen when the teachers and students noticed he and Hal were missing? Tori couldn't tell Shonfield or Finch. Or Bailey's parents, for that
matter. At this thought, Bailey felt an immense guilt settle in his stomach. The school would notify the Walkers that he was missing, and they'd be worried sick. But they'd be
more
worried if they knew where Bailey had actually gone. He wondered if Tremelo—when he returned,
if
he returned—would tell Hal's uncle Roger where he and Hal
were. Roger sold myrgwood, and he might even have connections in the Red Hills who could help them. But Bailey wasn't sure whether he could truly be trusted. On top of all that, Bailey
couldn't help but worry about Tori. Could he be sure that Graves wouldn't go after her, with Tremelo not there to help her? And what would Phi think when she returned from her trip home
to find that he had left on an adventure without her?

Hal returned from the market with some dried slices of apple and pear. The sun had nearly finished setting, and the Fluvian river seemed to glow orange and red in the last light.

“There wasn't anything heartier at the market,” Hal said, joining Bailey behind a stack of shipping crates. “But this will have to tide us over until The Maze.”

Bailey bit into one of the thin slices of dried apple, a snack his mother used to pack when he and his dad would load up the wagon with grain for a long delivery ride.
Make them last,
she'd say.
It's a long road.
He savored the second bite, finishing the slice.

“We need to get a note to our families,” Bailey said. “Otherwise they'll come looking for us.”

“I hope Roger won't be too mad,” Hal said. “My mom and dad hardly keep track of me as it is, but I guess Roger would have to tell them. He'd go crazy if he knew
what we were really doing the past few months.”

“Can we use a bat to fly a note home?” Bailey asked.

Hal pursed his lips, thinking.

“Maybe,” he said. “But what will it say? ‘Decided to run off to the Red Hills. Promise not to get captured by traders. Much love!'”

“I don't know,” said Bailey. “Tremelo would know what to do. But we don't even know where he is!”

“But what if Tori's right about him just being out on his own? He could be back already,” said Hal. “It's our best shot.”

They scrounged a piece of paper—an old cargo boat schedule—and a pen from the shipping master's office, and composed a short note.

We're okay—please let our parents and Roger know. B & H

Hal managed to coax a fuzzy brown bat down from the eaves of the shipping office. Squinting behind his glasses, he held it carefully in one hand, and tied the note to its delicate foot. Bailey
watched with awe—the little bat was so patient and unafraid in Hal's hand. Nothing like communing with Taleth: overwhelming emotions, but little understanding. It would take practice
for him and the tiger to truly be able to communicate if he managed to find her. He couldn't bear to think of how empty he'd feel if he never saw her again.

“That was amazing,” Bailey said as the bat took off from the dock, along with a cloud of about thirty of its fellows. They fluttered across the river and south toward Fairmount.
“I remember last fall, when Taylor had me come to the clock tower, you weren't nearly as connected.”

“Maybe you all have rubbed off on me,” Hal said. “Phi and Carin, Tori and her snakes. And now that you've Awakened…I've got to keep up!”

They set their sights on the
Sly Lobster
. They would spend the night hidden among the cargo on the covered barge as it floated upriver to The Maze—that is, if they managed to
board without being seen. Several men stood posted where the barge was tied to the dock. An open space about as long as a classroom stretched between them.

“Maybe we could dive in farther up the dock and swim to the other side, where they wouldn't see,” Bailey suggested. “Stay hidden under the boards until the coast is
clear.”

“Dive into that?” Hal motioned to the Fluvian, which was a light shade of green with a layer of debris and oil on the surface. “I'd rather stay up here. But what we need
is a diversion.” He dug into his vest pocket, and produced two small, stonelike objects, each the size of a snail. The stunners.

“How did you get those back?” Bailey asked, impressed.

“Taylor's not the only sneaky one in the family,” Hal said. “I nicked them from his jacket pocket one day while he was at lunch. I don't have your throwing arm,
though.” He handed the stunners to Bailey. Together, they peeked over the side of the crate to find the best place to launch them.