TRUE TO HIS WORD, Captain Morden arrived just before sun-up. Saemus wanted nothing more than to pull the blankets back over his head and sleep for another day at least. The bed was so comfortable, the sheets so soft, the blanket so warm.
Sighing heavily, he dragged himself out of bed, and gave Jon a hard shove to get him up. Saemus splashed some cold water on his face and quickly brushed his teeth with salt from a tiny cup next to the basin. Feeling as awake as he was going to be, he exited the room and nodded to Captain Morden who was busy waking the others.
“Go on down and get you a mug of black. Breakfast should be ready soon,” Morden said.
Saemus trudged down the stairs to the common room. It was empty at this early hour. Lamps chased away the shadows since the sun had yet to rise. Zed was busy behind the bar, mumbling to himself as he washed and dried mugs from the night before.
“Ah, there you are. Sit, sit,” Zed waved to the long table the group had occupied the previous evening.
Saemus took a seat, smiling at a young serving girl as she set down a steaming mug of black. He added a few spoonfuls of sugar to take the edge off of the bitterness. He sighed in contentment at the first sip. A few more and he began to feel almost himself.
The others tromped down the stairs looking worse for the wear. They had been up most of the night discussing possible plans. The Earth Chosen wished to return to Gentra as soon as Gwen’s parents were notified of her death. The Astran Chosen wanted to remain and help spread the word about the coming threat, perhaps find some spell that would help them destroy the Mekans. After much arguing back and forth, it was decided that they would stick together and return to Gentra. It was bad enough that the Volgon Chosen had left them to return to their home world; they didn’t want to split up even more.
I wish Master Brok were here.
Saemus sighed. It had been difficult taking up the mantle of leadership since Brok’s passing. Everyone expected him to have all the answers and to make the right choices for them, at least while they were on this world. But he was afraid: afraid of making the wrong decision, afraid of letting everyone down, afraid of being responsible for someone else’s death.
“Hogging all the black I see,” Kaelin teased as she sat next to her twin.
“It’s not my fault you overslept.”
“You always were the early riser.” Kaelin grinned as she poured herself a mug, skipping the sugar.
“Is that bacon I smell?” Robert asked.
“And eggs too, I think,” said Saemus.
As the rest of the group seated themselves around the table, the same young girl set a plate and silverware before each of them, smiling absently, yawning every now and then. Saemus guessed she wasn’t used to being roused so early in the morning.
Zed’s wife swept out of the kitchen, arms laden with plates heaped with bacon and eggs. She hollered at Zed to bring the bread and butter and to be quick about it, throwing in a few choice words.
“Now eat up, ya hear? I have more in the kitchen and I don’t want leftovers!”
The group set to eating as though they hadn’t stuffed themselves the night before, loading their plates and shoveling it in before it was cool enough to eat. The young barmaid brought out more food as soon as a bowl or plate was empty.
“I couldn’t eat another bite!” Jon said as he leaned back in his chair.
“I’m glad we aren’t getting back on Lucian’s Fury today. All that breakfast would go to waste!” Keera said.
“Keep that in mind tomorrow and don’t stuff your face full,” Sloan said.
When it was clear that everyone was done eating, Morden cleared his throat. “I contacted my friend in the palace and he will see to it that we get an audience with Sheldon. But we must hurry. The Patriarch is a busy man and I have a feeling that this meeting could take a while.”
“Lead the way,” Saemus said.
The group followed Morden out the door and into the street. The sun was just peeking above the horizon, bathing the city in a warm glow. The new day had yet to shake off night’s chill and their breath misted in the morning air. Few people were actually out at this hour but lamps glowed faintly in most windows. A sudden caterwauling echoed in the empty streets and sleek feline shapes darted out of one shadow, only to disappear into another.
Morden chose to lead them through the streets, but it wasn’t necessary; a blind man could have seen the enormous palace, its many turrets and towers in stark contrast with the lightening sky. Pennons and the Patriarch’s standard fluttered in the light breeze.
Guards stood to block the gate when they saw the large party approaching. However, as soon as they spotted Captain Morden they stepped to the side and opened the gate. A servant was there and bowed quickly before leading the group through the massive courtyard.
“Look!”
Everyone turned to see what Kaelin was pointing at. About a dozen urgits chased each other around a stand of trees, circling the trunks before leaping to a low-hanging branch, then dashing off as soon as one would come too close. The trills and purrs of their speech filled the inner courtyard.
Kaelin wanted to hold them and snuggle her face into their soft pink fur. She missed Moira terribly but knew she was safe with her family. I hope she’s okay.
The servant led them quickly past the trees with the urgits and into the palace. The main hall teemed with people waiting for their turn to see the Patriarch. Most were simple folk, most likely here with some sort of dispute they felt only Sheldon could solve. Some were merchants from the city carrying large bags that jingled with the taxes they owed the Patriarch. There were even a handful of Lords and Ladies. Each had to wait as equals; when petitioning, it was first come, first serve.
Unless Captain Thrace Morden happened to be in your party.
The group walked past all the people sitting on benches or leaning against walls. Many an eye opened in disbelief as the party swept past those who had been waiting since well before dawn. Whispers and incredulous gasps followed them as they made their way to the main audience chamber.
The servant opened the massive oak doors and bowed, indicating with his arm that they should enter. Their footsteps echoed loudly on the tile floors. The walls were draped with tapestries depicting various important points in history of the ruling family of Tranquility Island.
The current Patriarch of the Eastern Continent, Sheldon, sat on his throne, looking more like a farmer than the highest-ranking member of the ruling house. Where Patriarch Mordaen, the leader of the Western Continent, looked every inch a nobleman, Sheldon looked like he would be more comfortable behind a plow. His was short and fat, with a belly barely concealed by his rumpled robes. The only hair remaining on his head stuck out in tufts above his enormous ears.
“I suppose we better get down to business. You have never used your clout to force a meeting before so I assume this must be important.” Sheldon stood and led the group to an antechamber off the throne room, which had a table large enough to seat over a hundred men. Servants brought silver trays bearing chilled wine and ale.
Morden spoke as soon as they were seated. “This is greater than anything Astra has ever faced, your Grace.”
“Well, out with it man!”
Morden looked to the others seated at the table. When none of them appeared to want to jump in with an explanation, he sighed. “It’s going to sound crazy, your Grace, but I assure you that what we are about to tell you is the truth. The seers and bone-readers have been right about Astra being in danger, your Grace. There is something coming, something we can’t possibly fight.”
Sheldon sighed and rubbed his eyes, suddenly looking twenty years older. “Do I even want to know the nature of this threat?” He downed his goblet of wine.
“They are called Mekans, your Grace. They are made of metal and bigger than you can possibly imagine. They’re in the Blasted Lands but won’t remain there for long,” Saemus said.
“You’ve seen them?”
“Yes, your Grace. We had a special weapon we thought would kill them but it only stunned them.”
“A weapon? Like a catapult?”
“No, your Grace,” Saemus looked to Morden, knowing that if he tried to explain to Sheldon about the sound weapon, he probably wouldn’t believe it.
At a nod from Morden, Saemus continued. “This weapon isn’t like anything we have here on Astra. Umm...it uses sound to kill the enemy.”
Sheldon’s eyes widened and he guffawed. “Did Morden put you up to this?” He laughed but the emotion never really reached his eyes.
“It’s not a joke, and unless you wish to rule over a dead continent, I suggest you listen to these people,” Morden said, eyes hard.
“Now see here, I’m still Patriarch—”
Jon interrupted the conversation. “Maybe you should start acting like one.”
Sheldon turned to face Jon, his face turning red. “What did you say to me, young man?”
“You heard me. You won’t be Patriarch for long unless you heed our words and take action.” Jon stood with his hands on the table, facing the Patriarch. “We have been chosen to stop the Mekans but we have lost many of our comrades and victory isn’t certain at this point. You need to mobilize your people and move them as far from the Mishrae Hills as possible. If nothing else, by doing so you’ll ensure the survival of your people for as long as possible.”
Sheldon’s face grew redder with each word. “I’ll not be told how to run my Continent by the likes of you!” He stood and shoved his chair back so hard it toppled over.
“Maybe if you would actually run your continent instead of enjoying your drink.” Jon swiped a glass of wine off the table.
This isn’t going well at all.
Morden stood as well, hoping to salvage the situation before it deteriorated further. “Please, your Grace. He didn’t mean to offend you—”
“Don’t apologize for me, Morden, I meant every word,” Jon said.
“We need his help if we are to get word to the people to leave! You have to understand, this isn’t easy. The things you speak of are so strange they seem impossible,” Morden said.
“Think about how we felt when we first learned of our destiny! We have lost friends in the battle, and will most likely lose more. We can’t afford to be patient and waste precious time trying to explain things to this worthless excuse for a Patriarch,” Jon said, waving his hands in Sheldon’s direction.
Sheldon stood with his hands crossed over his massive chest, jowls shaking in rage. He took a few deep breaths before moving back toward the table. He stood next to the fallen chair and waited for one of his servants to right it before sitting down gingerly, as though ready to flee again.
Jon ignored Morden’s insistent hissing that he sit down at once. Maybe I should show Sheldon how insignificant he really is.
“If it wasn’t for this man who has vouched for you, you would all be out of the city and off my island within the hour. But even his influence only goes so far,” Sheldon said as he took a large gulp from his mug.
Morden groaned inwardly. They would never be able to convince the Patriarch of the danger if he refused to listen. But Morden had to admit that the idea of strange beings made of metal destroying Astra sounded preposterous. If it wasn’t for his gut feeling and the fact that he had spent time with these people, he would never have believed it either.
“What they speak of is true. And if you don’t act to warn the people now, they will be destroyed when these machines come across the Mishrae Hills. Surely you have heard the rumors the Nomads are spreading,” Morden said.
Sheldon nodded reluctantly. “But what they speak of isn’t possible! There’s nothing on this world that could have made something like that which they speak of.”
“They are not of this world, your Grace.”
Sheldon looked at Saemus and narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean, young man?”
“The Mekans are from another world that exists far from here. They are traveling to many worlds, digging for metal and such, and by the time they are finished mining each planet, they end up destroying it.”
“And somehow you lot are supposed to save everyone, eh? And how’s that exactly?”
“We’re not sure. There is a prophecy but it’s unclear as to what we were supposed to do. We only know that we are supposed to do it.”
“So these things are here and there’s nothing you can do about it.” Sheldon pursed his lips. “And I’m supposed to tell my people that they need to leave everything behind and head west, is that right? Flee from these things that only you have supposedly seen? You said yourself that you don’t even know how to stop them. And this claim that they are actually from somewhere else...” Sheldon shook his head ruefully. “You can’t expect me to believe such nonsense.”
“It isn’t nonsense! Fleeing is the people’s best chance for survival. And we’re not giving up yet. We may yet come out on top. But we need time: time to study the prophecy, time to figure out how to use the weapons available to us to take them down,” Saemus said.
“I’ll think on what you said and make my decision after speaking to my advisors,” Sheldon said.
Saemus stared hard at the man. “That’s it? You’ll discuss this and then figure out what to do? All while knowing those blasted machines could be crawling over your doorstep any moment?”
“I have made my decision. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have other petitioners.” Sheldon snapped his fingers and a servant ran to lead the group from the palace.
“Please, your Grace—” Morden began.
“I have heard your words and I will act on them after discussing these things with my advisors. Would you have a Patriarch act rashly? Rest assured that the decision I make will be undertaken after long and careful thought.”
Sheldon motioned with a flabby arm and the servant led them from the room and back to the front of the castle. The clanging sound of the gates closing behind them seemed to signal the doom they all knew was coming.
“We should return to the Fury as soon as possible. There’s nothing more we can do here. Perhaps Mordaen will be more receptive to our words,” Morden said.
“Sheldon won’t be able to ignore the truth for long. It will soon be crawling over his palace to crush him in his ignorance,” Jon said.
“To him, you speak of things that cannot possibly be true. To tread carefully is not ignorance.”
“He’s going to wait so long that his people will die needlessly!”
“All we can do is pray to the good Spirits that he decides to order the people west before the Mekans arrive.”