The Starfall Knight (33 page)

“Privacy, that is all.”

Vantanis led Devan into the mineshaft.  Some of the timber beams had rotted away and sections of the wall covered the tunnel floor.  The stench of excrement was palpable.  The wind howled outside.

“Did the Sirinese not know privys or latrines?”

“No,” Vantanis replied.  “You should see the gaps between the shanties.  At least the ones living around here had this mineshaft to shit into.”

Devan grunted and breathed through his mouth.  He said, “When I was chained up on Sirinis, you asked about my family.”

“I remember,” Vantanis replied.

“Why so curious?”

“I wondered if your father had had a good life.  If he was happy.”

“He was,” Devan said, “until he and my mother were killed defending Verovel from the Sirinese.”

Vantanis ran his hand against the wall of the tunnel, the light from the entrance growing dim.  “I am not Sirinese, Devan.  Nor is Alessa.”

“No?”

“No.  I was born on an aerock called Blackridge.  As was your father.”

“You knew him?”

“He was my brother.”

Devan halted, his heart thumping.  “Truly?  Or are you a Brother of the Moons once again?”

“Your father was Actinen, son of Bannerio and Draia.  He was my height with your hair but your brother’s jaw.  He was strong but excelled with arithmetic.  The first time the Sirinese raided Blackridge, they were fragmented and drifting on the winds of chance as other aerocks were.  Blackridge survived but the Sirinese took many prisoners, amongst them your father and I.”

“This was before even my brother was born,” Devan said.

“Yes, when your father and I were barely teenagers,” Vantanis said.  “The Sirinese fought amongst themselves – always fighting, as you know – and many of the prisoners escaped into other factions.  I remember that night – all the running and the blood and the madness.  When dawn broke, the Sirinese fell upon another aerock and the Blackridge prisoners were soon forgotten.  Your father managed to escape onto that aerock.  The next time I saw him, he was a man of Verovel, with a family.”

“What of Tarius?”

“He was young man, a smith for one of the gangs.  There isn’t much to be said about his rise.  It was born in death and betrayal.”  Vantanis halted and examined the tunnel and the dirt.  “This will do.”

Devan nodded and hunkered next to Vantanis, allowing the faint light from the surface to illuminate their hands.

“Did you know about Verovel?  What about your wife?”

“I was not a thrasher, never have been.”  Vantanis scratched at the dirt.  “But I saw Actinen and Serain in the last push.  I saw them killed.  I wonder if I had brought Sirinis to Verovel like some sort of unwitting homing pigeon.

“Later, Tarius told me that Teia, my wife, had been killed in a counterattack.  Only now do I know that Jarrell had acted for Tarius and killed her.  I wonder how long they had it all planned.”  Vantanis sighed.  “Since he was Verovelian, there’d be no chance of rumour spreading to Sirinis.  Knowing none of this, we detached from Verovel and Tarius manipulated me into his faction.  Grief and desperation, they end up being the same thing.”

“I’m sorry, Vantanis.  But I suppose you weren’t the first to fall victim to Tarius’ schemes.”

“No, that’s true.”  Vantanis cleared his throat.  “So, how much have you tried so far?”

“I think that I accidentally moved an aerock once or twice.  I threw up shields of earth and twice I was able to burrow through the ground.”

“I am impressed,” Vantanis said.  “I can only pilot.  The journal wrote of other skills but I did not have time to commit all of it to memory.”

“What you said about the moons being in alignment – Tarius was the same?”

Vantanis grunted.  “He must’ve been born with Tyn dominant.  Fire suits him.  Those vambraces aren’t simply for show.  Beneath, I’d guess that andonite is in contact with his skin – just as you and I must be contact with dirt-filled andonite – but also heat and flame generated from hammering the crystals.”

“He needs to touch fire as we do earth?”

“Yes,” Vantanis said.  “But he is a smith.  He has suffered worse burns, I’m sure.  Anyway, enough of him.”  He shook his head.  “After your previous uses, did you feel sick?”

“Yes.  Is that normal?”

“It is, I think.  I’ve always been nauseated afterwards.  Vomiting helps.  Sometimes out the other end is better.  I think we are not truly meant to have these powers.  The body is strained to breaking.  The mind as well.”

“I feel like I become one with the earth.  Almost like I can see through the dirt, feel it as I do my own flesh.”

“That’s the right of it,” Vantanis said.  “Be careful not to lose yourself.  I don’t know what would happen though I’m sure you’d feel the urge to sick up well before.”  He plunged his hands into the broken earth.  “Shall we begin?”

Devan nodded and followed suit.  He met Vantanis’ eyes.  “Should we do this?  What if we fail?”

“We are already failing,” Vantanis replied.  “Would you rather die trying or not?”

Alessa shoved open the door to the smithy.  The walls were bare, leaving only the anvil and forge illuminated by the sliver of light behind Alessa.  The newly constructed wall and doorway shivered in the gusts of wind that battered Sirinis as the aerock fell.  Alessa turned around, coming face to face with Benton.

“Tell me, Alessa,” Benton said, “was this place your home?”

“Yes.”  She headed towards Tarius’ cabin.  “My father’s hut was far more modest though.”

“By rights, you should be dead.  Executed.”

Alessa put her hands on her hips.  “And you’ll do it?  Lop off my head?”

“Or maybe just throw you over the edge.”  Benton crossed his arms.  He was not as tall as some but there was raw strength in his arms and legs.

“So, do it.”

“You’d need a trial first.”

“Already had one.”

“Jarrell was working with the Sirinese, though.”

“How unfortunate.”  Alessa sniffed and spat the mucus on the bare dirt.  “What do you want?”

“There should be justice for what you did to Masteney.”

“I guess there should be,” Alessa said.  “But right now, we have more important problems, wouldn’t you say?”

Benton shrugged.  “There’s nothing here.  No crops, no fields.  Even in their leaving, nothing is left apart from a stray dog that Rika found.”

“This aerock was stripped bare years ago.”  Alessa trotted up the stairs to the front of the cabin, the wind tossing around the open door.  Inside the sitting room, the walls were devoid of the trophies and the cabinets were empty.  The matched leather armchairs remained in their positions.  Alessa sat down and sighed, her nose filling with the scent of the leather.

“Was this Tarius’ home?”

“Yes.”

“It’s a lot different to the rest of the hovels.”

“He was Imperator.”

The floor shuddered and the shelves in the cabinet wobbled.  The entire cabin creaked as Sirinis slowed.  “They’ve done it.”  Alessa gripped her chair as Benton braced himself in the doorway.  Outside, the wind dropped and the dust settled.

“What happened?” Benton asked.

“We’ve stopped falling, I think.”  The aerock lurched again.  “Oh, moons.”  Alessa held her breath as the floorboards rumbled.

The ground settled and Benton stepped outside.  “You’re right,” he called out.  “We’re climbing.  We should go.”

“Where?”

“To plan revenge.”

The Centarans gathered near the cave, just as the Sirinese had upon first sighting Centara.  Benton led Alessa to the fore where Romaine, the Councillors, masters and captains crowded around Devan and Vantanis.

“How long do we have?” Councillor Arnst said.

“I’m not sure,” Vantanis replied.  “I’ve never drained an aerock to complete failure.”

Devan said, “You once said that you could push it in one direction and it would be as a ball rolling down a hill.”

“Aye, but that was across a path of the same height.  Aerocks use andonite all the time.  Acceleration or a change of direction will drain a bit more for that burst.  But climbing in altitude is constant, like pushing a wagon up a hill.”

“So, we’re using more?” Arnst said.  “This aerock will fail sooner?”

“If we do not reach Centara – yes.”

The crowd burst into argument, some blaming Romaine for her executive decision while others blamed Devan and Vantanis.  Alessa felt like shouting them down but she was one against many.

“Enough!” Marzell boomed.  “What little andonite remaining wasn’t even enough for this aerock to hold its altitude.”

“But, what now?” Councillor Marwin asked.

“We’ll need to prepare the ballistae,” Vantanis said.  “If we can grapple one of the aerocks, we might have a chance.”

“The ballistae and bolts can’t hold the entire weight of Sirinis,” Romaine said.

“No, that’s true.  As soon as the ropes are secured, we’ll have to climb across.”

“What?” Arnst said.  “That’s madness.”

Romaine raised a reassuring hand.  “We might be able to hook the ends of the cables onto a wagon.”

“What if we don’t have time?” Arnst asked.  “There are a hundred of us.  Maybe more.”

“Then, the rest will fall with this aerock.”  Romaine turned back to Vantanis.  “Take as many rangers as you need to prepare the ballistae, the cables and wagons.”

“My thanks.”  Vantanis bowed and Benton ushered him away, the green-tabarded rangers enveloping them.

“Marshal,” Arnst said.  “I have no intention of dying here.”

“None of us do, Councillor,” Romaine replied.

“I hope you know what you’re doing!”

Alessa stepped forward.  “Councillor, if you have any better ideas, now would be the time to share them with us.”

“Ah, the Sister of the Moons!” Arnst snapped.  “If we needed ideas on lies, deception and wholesale slaughter, we know where to go.”

Alessa stormed forward but Devan moved between her and the old man.  He shook his head.

“You can release her, ranger,” Arnst said.  “I can handle her and her type.”

“My type?” Alessa yelled.

Devan kept a tight grip on Alessa’s elbow and said to Arnst, “I bear no great love for Alessa and the misery she’s brought us but you don’t want to end up in a fight with her.”

“Pah!  Who said anything about a fight?”

At this, Romaine raised an eyebrow.  She gestured to the other Councillors and a couple of the soldiers.  “Perhaps you should take Councillor Arnst to one of these shelters.  He needs some rest.”

“Yes, Marshal.”  Marwin, Arlena and the others surrounded Arnst and Alessa lost sight of him as they escorted the Councillor through the crowd of Centarans.

Alessa wrested her arm away from Devan.  “Centarans.  You’re not much different.”

“No.”  Romaine swept a tired hand through her short hair.  “Alessa, we need all the steel we can get.  But don’t think for a moment that your actions have been forgiven.”

“I know,” Alessa replied.  The screams of the Masteney stables were still with her.  As was her thirst for Tarius’ blood.

“We will deal with it when we return to Centara,” Romaine said.  “In the meantime, your help would be looked upon favourably.  Perhaps the two of you should assist with the ballistae.”

“What will you do, Marshal?” Devan asked.

Alessa followed Romaine’s gaze over the Centarans.  Most were soldiers, guards and rangers – still in their armour but stark with their empty sheaths and belts.  Their auxiliaries and staff must have been granted pardons, after all, the Sirinese craved little else more than to be served as if they were lords of the land.  There were a few Council staff huddled together.  The Marshal said, “I shall rank our needs should we fall short of Centara.”

“Needs?  Who lives and dies?”

“Yes,” Romaine said.  “Devan, if I fall, you and the captains must continue on.”

“We will.”

“The Sirinese were preoccupied with Centara city.  I do not know if they were aware of Elade and Saruwa.”

“The garrisons!”

Romaine nodded.  “If any loyal Centarans escaped, they will head to Saruwa.  That’s where we must go.  We will regroup and take back our home.”

Devan rested a hand against the polished timber of the ballista’s base.  With the winch mechanism, the weapon rose above his head while the arm of the ballista measured more than twice his height across.  Metal plates were bolted into the base and the arm also sported long strips of steel laminated between the timber.  Marzell commanded a group of rangers and soldiers fixing cables to a wagon while Benton and the others examined two more of the fearsome devices.  There were precious few of Devan’s old squad amongst the survivors; he knew that most would have remained on Centara in resistance but the tight lines around his brother’s face told Devan all.

“What do you call them?” Devan asked Vantanis.

“They don’t have names,” Vantanis said.  “They were vital to the survival of the Sirinese, not toys.”  He kicked a wooden beam.  “We’ll likely approach Centara from underneath so we’ll need the grappling hooks rather than the bolts.”

“Why not both?”

“In a raid, we’d fire off the penetrative bolts for initial contact and anchoring.  The second volley would include the hooks.  I doubt we’ll have time for all that.  I hope the trees in Centara have deep roots.”

Vantanis hefted a bolt with hooks and set it onto the ballista.  “Work that crank, will you?”

Devan nodded and turned the handle on the side of the ballista and windlass mechanism pulled back the weapon’s string, which was in truth a steel cable.  He would not want to be caught in the ballista’s field of fire.

The winch clicked into place and Vantanis placed a block in the firing mechanism.  “Safety first,” he said.

“What’s the range of these ballistae?” Devan asked.

“I’ve seen them used at a few hundred paces,” Vantanis replied.  “But if we’re shooting upwards, I’d say we’d have to be within two hundred.”  He peered through the clouds with a hand shading against the glare.  “Wish I had my seeing-scope.”

“Any sign of Centara?”

“I think it’s that dot.”  Vantanis pointed up.  “Can you see it?”

“Yes,” Devan said.  A longwing soared past, obscuring the dark blob for a moment.  The dark spot in the sky reappeared as the bird circled around.  “There weren’t any other aerocks in the vicinity.  It must be Centara.”