The Starfall Knight (28 page)

“Manners?”

“Please, more water, Imperator.”

“Very good.”

Tarius tipped another morsel into Devan’s mouth.  He had never tasted anything so sweet.  He sucked on his tongue and his teeth, lapping up every drop.  His mouth ran dry again.

“Now, we must know who you are.  After all, why should we believe you?”

“Water.  Can’t speak.”  Another mouthful slaked Devan’s thirst for a brief moment.

“Who are you?”

“Devan Actinenson of Verovel, officer of the Marshal of Rangers.”

Tarius stood up and tossed the waterskin to the ground.  Devan gasped but nothing ran out of the container.  Empty.

“That’s quite official-sounding,” Tarius said to Vantanis.  “I don’t know of this Verovel, however – do you?”

“A small aerock.  It’s attached to Centara at the moment.”

Devan raised his head and glared at the two Sirinese.  “You killed my family, my people.”

Tarius shrugged at Vantanis.  The Imperator said, “We may have raided it at some point.  Interesting that they found Centara.”  To Devan, he added, “But you survived.  That’s an admirable trait.”

“Fuck your admiration.”

Tarius barked out a laugh.  “A little bastard, isn’t he?”

“Indeed.”  The so-called pilot frowned at Devan.  “But why is he here?”

“Answer him, ranger,” Tarius said.

“The Knight.  You stole the Knight.”

“We did.”  Tarius shrugged.  “Threw it over the edge after we looted the armour and whatnot.”

Devan’s stomach lurched, as much from the news as his thirst.  He crumpled to the ground as the realisation of defeat weakened his muscles, his strength vanished like the promise of water.

“Ramalo!  You lot, gag the prisoner and chain him behind the smithy.  We’ll need more information from him when we assault Centara.”

“Yes, Imperator!”

The guards shoved Alessa into the cell and she stumbled into the legs of a fellow prisoner.  They didn’t bother chaining her manacles down but her ankles and wrists were still hobbled.  Alessa murmured an apology and sat on the floor.

“What did they want this time?” Elina asked.  Her disembodied voice echoed in the dark cell.

“I don’t know,” Alessa said.  She could barely remember anything apart from the searing of her shoulder.  Yet, when she touched the area, there was nothing except the stained cloth that covered the cut.  “They wrote something.”

“That Jarrell looks familiar,” Elina said.  “I seen him before.”

“You haven’t.”

“I have.  I know it.”

“Be silent, Elina.”

“Why?  You ain’t no Servius in here.”

“No,” Alessa said, “but we might’ve bought more time if you hadn’t killed the hostages in Masteney.”

“Still on that?  You don’t know if we would have made it out or not.”

“Quiet.”

Elina fell into a grumble that was soon lost to the rattling breath of the other prisoners.  Alessa closed her eyes, noting that the dark was complete whether or not her eyes were open.  She ignored the cold floor that bit into her bottom and the reek of excrement in her nose.  Alessa dozed off.

Devan stared at the burgundy sky.  Moon Aer dominated the night, waxing azure.  The evening had not brought rain but at least the proximity to Tarius’ cabin brought no hecklers nor thrown garbage.

The drawn-out call of a longwing drifted on the air.  Devan turned his head but there was no accompanying beat of wings; it had just been the bird’s song carried from Centara on the air streams.  From what Devan gathered, Sirinis would soon join Centara again but this time, the Centarans would not be ready.  If the Starfall Knight had truly been discarded, then all that was left for Devan was bringing warning to Centara.  Or killing the Sirinese leaders.

Footsteps approached and Devan curled up.

“Easy there.  Relax.”  Vantanis kneeled next to Devan and offered a waterskin.  He had no lantern or torch but the moon Aer illuminated his face just as well.  “Drink.”

“Is it poisoned?”

“If we wanted you dead, you would be,” Vantanis said.  “Besides, do we look like we have access to poison?”

Devan grunted, feeling the delicious weight of the skin in his hands.  He unstoppered the lid and drank a mouthful of the brackish water, the sweet nectar.  Remembering his survival training, Devan took another small swallow and closed the skin for now – he could not afford to be sick again.

“What do you want?  More information?”

“Not quite.”

“The aerock is moving under your power, isn’t it?”

Vantanis nodded.  “Once I set a direction and speed, it’s like a ball rolling down a hill.  When Sirinis draws close to Centara, I will change its course again.”

“I thought pilots were a fairytale,” Devan said.

“And now you know otherwise.”  Vantanis produced a hunk of cheese.  “Here, eat.”

“My thanks.”  Devan bit the hard cheese, his saliva almost dripping from his mouth.

“Tell me, Devan – tell me more about your parents.”

“Why?  So you can gloat over their deaths?”

“No,” Vantanis said.  “I remember Verovel, even if Tarius does not.”

Devan shrugged.  He ate the rest of the cheese and took another swig of water.  His stomach growled in protest but Devan could already feel his strength returning.

“My daughter is on Centara.  She was captured along with some others.”

“Am I to sympathise with the dogs who killed half of Masteney, raped the women and girls and shut the rest in a barn with no food or water?”

“No, I suppose not.”

“They will receive justice on Centara,” Devan said.  “Even if they do not deserve it.”

“Tell me of Verovel, Devan.”

“Fine.”  Devan drank from the waterskin, draining it completely.  “Verovel was my home.  Actinen was my father and my mother was Serain.  They died in the fighting after the town siege.  My brother and I survived along with a few others.  Not much else to tell.”

“Did your parents speak of their past?  Were they happy?”

“Yes, they were happy,” Devan said.  “They had moved to Verovel after I was born.  From another aerock – but they never made it clear.  Never bothered me – Verovel was home.”

“Have you ever been exposed to raw andonite?”

“What?  Yes, a few times.”  Devan tossed the waterskin back to Vantanis.  “I don’t know what you’re driving at.”

Vantanis stood up.  “My wife died in the raid on Verovel, Devan.  My daughter is captive on your aerock.  I thought it would be nice to hear about a family that had been happy, at least at some point.”

“No use living in the past, Vantanis.  Otherwise your life ends up being full of only memories and dust.”  Devan huddled around his knees.  “Thanks for the water.”

Alessa stumbled into the interrogation room.  The guards stepped outside shut the door behind them.

Inside, Elina was gagged and strapped to the central chair while Jarrell fussed at the bench, polishing implement after implement.  “Good evening, Alessa.  I know there is precious little light down here but believe me – it is evening.”

“So?”  Alessa rested against a wall.  Her shackled wrists and ankles ached.

“Just being polite.  It’s what civilised people do.”  Jarrell picked up a slender tool with a hook at one end and a spike at the other.  “Civilised people also have titles, don’t they?”

At this, Elina struggled in the chair but her yells were muffled by the cloth bunched in her mouth.  The metal rattling against the chair’s frame drowned out Jarrell’s chuckles.

“I wouldn’t pay much stock to Elina’s protests,” the Marshal said.  “She was, after all, quite illuminating prior to this.  Servius.”

“I don’t know who that is.”

“No need to be coy, Alessa.  I know that you are the Servius.  I know that you are close to the Imperator.”

Alessa did not respond.  Elina had also fallen silent but Jarrell had not moved from the bench.

“Catch!”  The metal glinted in the air and Alessa snatched the tool on instinct.

Jarrell dashed into Elina and slammed a knife into her again and again.  Blood stained her ripped tunic, blooms of red roses.  Alessa charged at Jarrell but he swivelled on his good leg and threw her into the wall.  Alessa’s shoulders screamed with pain and sparks flew in her vision.

Jarrell hobbled back to the bench.  Elina’s eyes glazed over.

“A shame,” Jarrell said.  “Guards!”  He tossed a steel needle to the ground next to Alessa and retrieved his cane.  Alessa scowled, resisting every urge to attack the Centaran again.  But even with his injury, the old soldier was stronger, faster and better trained than her.

The two soldiers opened the door and entered.

“I suppose it’s understandable that you’d rather kill one of your own than allowing her to betray you, Servius.”  To the guards, he said, “Take both of them back to the cell.  Let the corpse rot with the prisoners for a while, animals that they are.”

“Yes, Marshal!”

Alessa’s throat tightened and tears blurred her vision.  She did not understand why – Elina had been nothing but a liar, a whore and an enemy.  The butt of a pike slammed into Alessa’s shoulder and broke all of her wild thoughts.

Jarrell glared at Alessa as the guards dragged her away.  His necklace of jewelled andonite pulsed, contrasting against the wan lamp-light.

The soldiers shoved Alessa into the cell and dumped Elina just inside the doorway.  The door slammed shut and the lock turned over.

“They killed her?” a thrasher asked.

Before Alessa could answer, a voice hissed, “Alessa?”

“You’re alive?  I can get some bandages.  I can –”

Elina gripped Alessa’s hand.  “No time.”  A sliver of light from the door’s spy-hole shone on the blood bubbling on her lips.  “I remember Jarrell now.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore, Elina.”

“Listen!  Jarrell from Verovel.  But he was on Sirinis too.”  Elina’s breath rasped.

“It was so long ago.  You and I were children.”

“I know what I saw.  I saw Jarrell kill Teia.”

Alessa’s heart thumped at her mother’s name.  “That’s impossible.  Why are you doing this to me?  Even as you die, you’re –”

Elina’s grip tightened.  “Alessa!  No lies.  What use?”  She took a deep breath.  “I brought Jarrell to Tarius.  None would suspect a child.  They met in secret.  They killed Teia when Verovel finally fell.  To bury your father in grief.  Drive him to Tarius.”

Alessa shook her head.  “It makes no sense.”  Yet, it would explain the forbearance that Tarius held for Elina even after Leonus had cast her aside for Alessa.  And Elina’s tireless jealousy of Alessa.  “What did Jarrell have to gain?”

She remembered Jarrell’s previous interrogation and his words claiming that Alessa wasn’t the one.  He had been searching for someone amongst the Sirinese – a message from Tarius?

“Don’t trust them.”  Elina exhaled.  She fell still.

A boot crunched into Devan’s back.  “Wake up, worm!”

Ramalo cocked his knee for another kick but Devan sat up.  Tarius called out, “He’s awake, Ramalo.  Leave us.”

“Yes, Imperator.”  Ramalo hawked up a gob of mucus and spat on Devan.  He stalked off, mace swinging on his belt.

Shadow lay across Sirinis and Devan looked up.  The underside of Centara and its allied aerocks filled the sky.

“We have taken your advice,” Tarius said as he approached.  He wore brigandine with chain sleeves.  Long metal vambraces covered his arms to the elbows and long boots with mail chausses covered his legs.  While the motley armour of other Sirinese appeared comical, Tarius’ air of intimidation was undeniable.  “It must seem strange to you, seeing an aerock from below.”

“I never noticed.”

“Of course not,” Tarius said.  “Centara floats so high, above all else.  How could you ever know what it’s like for the rest of us?”

“Seems that Sirinis shares the same air.”

Tarius grunted and turned away.  He adjusted his vambraces.  They were bulkier than Devan would’ve guessed necessary but did not cover his fingers or palms – strange for a smith who, by all rights, would’ve taken all precautions for his hands; although abstaining from battle might’ve been a wiser choice.  “Are you comfortable, Devan?”

“Never more so than now.”

“Good.  You’ll die here.”  Tarius strode away.

Devan frowned.  He stood up, his legs still weak and wobbling, and pulled at the chain with no effect.  Just past the smithy, Sirinese flowed along the path – men, women and children all bearing sacks and bags full of food and clothes.  A group of thrashers exited Tarius’ cabin, each pair carrying wooden trunks that strained their arms and shoulders.

Devan hunched down.  If he dared to draw attention to himself, he didn’t like his chances of release – more likely, he would be skewered on the end of a spear and forgotten.  The chain had been hooked around an iron stake driven into the earth.  Devan tugged at the metal half-heartedly, knowing that he had already tried countless times before.

He sighed as the breeze increased to a gust.  Above, Centara drew closer as Sirinis rose towards the northern edge of the larger aerock.  The ragged earth and bedrock of the underside of Centara did indeed look strange on second thought.  Dirt rained down on occasion, dispersed in the wind.

The morning slid into afternoon and Sirinis reached Centara.  Devan lost sight of his home aerock behind the horizon of shanties and huts.

He had never realised how much noise people made – the chatter, the screams, the children, the brawling.  Even in the wilderness of Centara, bird calls and the scurrying of game could be heard.  With the exodus of the Sirinese complete, silence filled the air.

Devan gathered the chain in his hands and pulled at the stake.  The metal did not budge, leaving only a new set of bruises on Devan’s skin.  He punched the ground.  He could not die here.

He lay down.  Little else but a few grains of sand and dry dirt covered the rocky ground.  A weed with spiked leaves swayed with Devan’s breath.  He reached out, plucked the greenery and tossed it into the air.  Devan dug his fingertips next to the iron spike.  If only he could widen the hole, he would be able to gain purchase with his shackles and dig.  Or at least scrape at the rock.