Pirate and King, chapter fifteen

15

Not at all meanwhile, quite far in place and in time, Prince Nalderick pondered his options. He was still aboard the hurtling dreadnought Majesty, still headed south at an altitude of ten-thousand feet. Higher might have been safer… less chance of a sudden attack from above… but it also required more manna, and magic was growing scarce.

Conditions were windy and cold enough on the main deck to make a cloak advisable. Moving around helped, too. There was still light, but it brought little warmth. Mountains slid past beneath the big airship, pocked by the fitful glow of unnamed small towns.

Invincible paced Majesty on the port side. Dart was out of sight, exploring their flight path for possible danger. The sun was far to the west and very near setting. It cast long, bruised purple shadows behind the mountains and into their valleys, where it was already night.

He could not see the Poisoned Waste from this height, but that was another possibility, should Okuni and mother fail him. The web Derrick struggled through was very complex, and it developed another strand when a flickering spell-globe popped into sight at face level.

Nalderick halted. Behind him, Lady Sheraza paused too, then drifted off to the grand stairwell. High-elves were always quite conscious of personal matters and privacy. Most would rather lose and regrow a limb than eavesdrop, and so his future empress took herself elsewhere. Her absence made the deck a little bit colder and darker, but it also allowed him to listen in peace.

The spell-globe was fragile, its magic eroding like sand on a windy beach, but it lasted long enough to reveal his sister Genevera, with somebody’s slender hand clasping her shoulder. Like Nalderick, Genevera Valinor had long brown hair and vivid green eyes. Unlike him, she’d been crying. The light shone strangely wherever she was; wavering in slow bands of opaline color. The fey-wild, maybe, or else some shining tropical reef village.

“Dickie,” she pled. “What’s happened?” Genna was just a young girl, but she’d stress-grown a lot on that last, awful day. She was taller and slimmer now, with much of her whimsy and mischief smothered by grief. “Gramperor’s dead, and His Dadness, too? Why?”

Nalderick folded both arms across his armored chest, set his face like flint, and nodded.

“They were attacked,” he said shortly, trying hard not to let that thought overwhelm him. There was more, and possibly worse, to come.

“His Majesty pardoned the Criminal and restored his place in the succession. We have been pushed aside for the exile’s descendants, Genna. I mean to do something about that, but I want you to stay away. Keep yourself hidden and able to mount your own attempt, if mine should…”

Fail, he’d been about to say. Nalderick shook his head, driving off fear and confusion.

“…if something goes wrong. Your husband is with you?”

Genevera nodded, reaching upward to press the hand on her shoulder. The spell-globe jerked, twisted and expanded its view. Now a very abstract and impressionist Genna took up half, along with a wavering Andorin. The sea-elf’s expression was impossible to gauge, there being only the suggestion of inky-dark hair, pale skin and solid black eyes, along with a smudge of shock-purple cloak. Nalderick sensed no hostility, though. He bowed to his brother-in-law, one deposed prince to another.

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“Your Highness,” he murmured.

Nalderick hadn’t approved of his sister’s wedding. He’d been as surprised as anyone else at the Council of Land and Sea, when Genevera popped out of disguise and proposed marriage to the startled fish-man. Ironically, he’d considered the fellow beneath her; a prince without power, lands or wealth, earning his way through the world as a bard and a diplomat… But matters had changed very much.

Andorin’s image bowed in return, touching left hand to right shoulder, in the way of the fish-folk.

“Prince Nalderick,” fizzled the globe, making a hash of the sea-elf’s calm voice. Its magic was just about spent, so Derrick stuck to what mattered the most.

“Take care of my sister. If I don’t succeed, she must, Andorin. Promise me, both of you, that you won’t let this drop if I’m killed!”

Genna’s slim shoulders were shaking.

“Dickie, what if we just go away, all three of us? Start someplace new? What if nobody has to be…”

The orb broke apart in mid-sentence, becoming a swirl of bright sparks that streamed off to Majesty’s main antenna. And, just like that, Derrick was all alone with his rumbling ship and the night.

Nalderick tugged at the hem of his tunic, rearranging his sword belt and cloak. The distant landscape swam in his view, until rapid blinking brought everything back into focus again.

“I will not go away,” he said very quietly. “I will not let my grandfather’s throne be taken by exiles and thieves.”

He hadn’t intended a vow, but the ripple of force shot out anyhow, rattling cables and gear on Majesty, Invincible and even small Dart (briefly detectable when his promise washed over the bow). Some while later, he sensed Karellon, too. Home. His city, which he’d left as a fugitive, but meant to reclaim as its lord.

“Majesty,” he said aloud. “Have Captain Vanner and Commander Jennet bring their ships alongside. It’s time for a council of war, Madge.”

‘Yes, Prince N,’ replied the dreadnought, crisp and dry in his thoughts. Invincible and Dart report heard and understood.’

“Thank you, Madge. Inform Captain Prentiss, as well. I’ll want her, Sheraza, Scander, Billow and Solara there, too.”

‘Done,’ responded the airship. ‘All will report as ordered, Prince N.’

Derrick nodded, then took a deep breath and crossed the deck to the starboard bow. Busy crew and watchful officers stayed well out of his way, allowing their prince the time and space that he so badly needed. Just silhouettes, all of them; going about the ship’s business in silence and perfect order, creating a bubble of peace that centered on Nalderick. He had a great deal to think about.

Reaching the starboard rail, Derrick stared across a darkening landscape. He had to come up with a plan, something more than just, “Mother, I need your help.” So far, though, nothing had come to him.

Lead Okuni in battle? How? Why would they trust a half-blood foreigner? Conquer the orcs and establish a base in Linden, maybe recruiting survivors to expand his forces? Or out to the Poisoned Waste, with its abandoned lich cities and crumbling magical engines?

Possible strategies swam in his head, all of them leading to battle, chaos and blood. To a realm that was seized in the hardest way possible, with many good people lost. The horizon wavered and blurred again, most likely because of that gusting cold wind.

“Madge…” asked the prince, barely audible over engine noise and vibration. “Am I making the right decision?”

‘I was a sentient tree in the fey-wild, Prince N. Now I keel and inhabit an airship. I lack the perspective for vengeance and politics. Just what I see in your mind. I can sense that this matters very much to you, and your sorrow affects me, as your choice in this thing will affect all the realm. I know that I care for you, and that I will help. That is all.’

Derrick nodded, squeezing the polished brass rail with both hands.

“No one can answer but me,” he said to the ship and the darkness. “So be it. The die will be cast, and the pieces will move. Whatever comes of my choice, I will fight to the end.”

So be it.