“Where is the General in charge of the Farhner army down here?” Rick asked one, then another, Barabookian. The kinder ones shrugged. Mostly he was ignored. It was odd that even though he knew a large division of the army was here, no one was in military uniform. He knew they were down here. Perhaps they were still doing work closer to the sea from the hurricane damage.
He smelled the salt in the air. He felt it in the breeze gusting down the street between the buildings. He would follow the sea breeze to the General.
Older children were worse than the adults, shouting insults at him and Neighbor. They found it disturbing that such a muscular beast was not controlled in any way.
“I am Aldric of Red River, Unicorn Keeper of King Segan.” That seemed to give the children hesitation. Of course, it helped that Neighbor reared at that moment and let out an ear-spitting scream. Rick remained still and facing forward, even though he caught Neighbor’s movement out of the corner of his eye. She rarely reared, and he knew she was becoming as frustrated as he. They both wanted the familiarity of the military. Of course, she could have just spoken and scared them away. “Now direct me to the General.”
“Hamond Mansion,” cried a girl in yellow, pointing towards the sea. Then she turned and ran away. Sea gulls cried overhead in seeming agreement.
Once at the breezy sea cliff seen through the narrow alleys between buildings, Rick found it difficult to breathe at the sight. The sea, the wide and wonderful blue sea, spread to the horizon where it met the forever sky. Both Neighbor and Rick stood staring until they were urged to move by yet another rude Barabook resident.
Along this street next to the sea, all of the houses—if you could call the colourful mansions with manicured gardens and multiple bay windows by such an ordinary name—seemed determined to outdo their neighbours with more elaborate tiles and pillars. Although these homes did not appear damaged from the hurricane, or at least not anymore, many of them had scaffolds surrounding them, busy with diligent workers.
One three-story building stood out from the others with its white pillars and glints of gold. On a pole above it flapped an enormous yellow and blue Barabook flag. The tiled porch along the front of the building was intricately decorated with sea animals and flasks, like on the flag. As much as Rick wanted Neighbor with him when he spoke with the General, they agreed it would be best for her to wait outside since she couldn’t fit through the door without a struggle.
Rick walked between the pillars and through the front doors. He was immediately confronted by several workers painting the hallway. Paint splattered their clothing.
“Who are you?” one asked.
“Not even a knock?”
“Watch your step. Don’t walk there.”
“Do you have an appointment?”
“He doesn’t look like he understands what an appointment is.”
“Maybe he’s casing the place to rob it. He looks suspicious.”
“Are you lost?”
“Use the servants’ entrance in the back, although I doubt they are hiring.”
Rick felt like he needed to raise his shield against the onslaught of comments. Instead, he stood tall. “I am Aldric of Red River, Unicorn Keeper of King Segan. The Half-moon Prince. I need to speak to the general.”
“Ooh. Doesn’t he sound important. Titled and everything.”
“Sounds made up,” another said.
If they didn’t respond to words, perhaps they would to his sword. He drew it out before any in the hall could take another breath. He was about to slam it through a nearby ladder, ready to take on the entire paint crew, when a side door opened and a man in a blue robe appeared.
“What is the ruckus out here? You make it impossible to think.”
To a man, they pointed to Rick holding his sword above his shoulder. “It’s his fault.”
Blue-robed man raised his eyebrows at Rick. “Are you going to use that thing? Or merely pointing out a spot they missed? They are lazy workers.” The painters, duly insulted, twisted around and returned to work.
Rick sheathed his sword and took two steps to the man. “I need to speak with the general.”
The man looked up and to his right, as if thinking. “I don’t recall General Alborn had an appointment this afternoon. You do have an appointment, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Rick answered confidently. “It’s an appointment to rescue King Segan.”
The painters froze.
Blue-robed man eyed Rick from his boots up to his green eyes and blonde hair. “Go back outside, to the side door. There.”
“Any particular side?”
“Turn left and left again,” the man replied and promptly returned to the room from which he’d come, shutting the door firmly behind him.
None of the painters looked at Rick directly, but he could tell by their silence and slowed brush strokes that at last he had their attention, not that it was worth anything. He shoved the front doors opened and was shaking by the time he reached Neighbor.
“The general is not present?” Neighbor asked.
“I have no idea,” Rick said. “Maybe that way.” He followed the instructions, with Neighbor following closely behind until they reached a side door which actually had a painted symbol above it. It was a white unicorn on a blue background—the flag of Farhner. At last.
He entered and was told to wait. He idled in the hallway, sitting and rising from a chair a dozen times until near supper time. He worried about his unicorn, but refused to budge from this opportunity to speak with the general. He knew Neighbor could take care of herself.
Rick was finally told to follow the secretary. He led Rick up two flights of steps and down a pink and green hallway lined with silver statues of soldiers standing at attention, and finally to the seaside front of the house. The secretary opened a double door and announced loudly, “Aldric of Red River.” He gave a slight bow, then signalled Rick to enter.
Stepping to the center of the doorway, Rick’s hair and cloak flowed behind him in the sea breeze coming from the open balcony windows. Beyond the balcony lay the sea, the wonderful blue sea with the cries of seagulls screaming their freedom. The room was three times the size of his entire homestead house. Along the walls were more silver statues of soldiers, and several waiting servants. Five men sat at a long table, all of them in long robes embroidered with gold thread. Near the open balcony overlooking the sea, another long table held an array of rich foods—meats, lobsters, fruits, and pies. Ricky licked his lips at the sight, and his stomach growled. Such foods. It was enough to feed his band of thieves for a couple of weeks.
Four of the men were large, two of them even plump. He assumed the older man with a green ribbon across his chest with medals over it was the General. Another older man, also with a green ribbon across his chest sat beside him. He wore no medals. But the fifth was more trim, more fit. That fifth man was someone Rick recognized. Guy, the soldier he’d met at the ruins of Nimrock, the one who deserted the civilians to run off to Plainwell. Guy at first looked surprised to see Rick, but then he sat back in his chair, hands folded on his belly. He looked at Rick and grinned, as though ready to burst into laughter. Not the delightful glad to see you again laugh of a friend, but the I was waiting to see you again smirk of an enemy.
An older man in a green robe finally spoke: “Well? You are wasting our time.”
“General Alborn?” Rick asked, looking at each of the stout men. The man with a green ribbon covered in medals across his chest raised his goblet in acknowledgment and then took a sip.
Rick fell to one knee and bowed his head briefly. “General Alborn. I am Aldric of Red River, Unicorn Keeper of Farhner. We have come to join the rescue of King Segan.”
“We? As in, you brought the unicorn with you?”
Rick raised his eyes. The general looked beyond Rick to the now closed doors, perhaps thinking Neighbor climbed the stairs for an audience.
“Yeah, yeah. He’s got a unicorn,” Guy said. “He belongs in a circus or down in the Bottoms. I’m sure it’s just a trick, anyway.”
“I wonder how much a unicorn, real or otherwise,” one of the men said, “will fetch.”
Rick rose. “King Segan knows her value. She is a war unicorn, advisor to many kings in many nations. The king’s full moon war wish is vital to Farhner for holding the Spikonians at bay.”
The general’s eyes went wide. “The king is dead, and in his absence, I should get his wish. Think how much faster our wall would be completed—”
“No, I should get the wish,” the mayor declared. I am in charge of Barabook. Think of the additional riches we could bring in.”
“She’s not giving out wishes,” Rick said. “And the wishes only work for kings.” He neglected to say and also for Half-moon princes. “She’s here because she’s willing to rescue our king.” Rick really wanted to add, ‘are you?’ but he bit his tongue in time before the words came out.
“Too bad,” the general said. He grabbed a chunk of meat and chewed on it thoughtfully. Rick waited. Guy smirked, and also continued eating, but without taking his eyes off of Rick. “I understand from what Major Guy has informed us, that the Spikonians succeeded in destroying Nimrock, no thanks to you.”
“I wasn’t even there,” Rick responded. He shot a look at Guy. He’d been made a major?
“So, you agree that you deserted your post at their time of need,” Alborn said.
“Certainly not. We were on a mission when she fell. The people of Nimrock need to be rescued.”
The general raised his eyebrows. “We all know that the king died when Nimrock fell.”
“He didn’t,” Rick said. “When I last spoke to King Segan—”
“What?” Alborn slapped his hand on the table making, the dishes rattle. “The king lives?”
Even Guy’s expression turned serious at this news. Alborn and the older man exchanged nervous glances. “He lives?” the older man mouthed to Alborn.
A feeling crept down Ricky’s spine like a snake slithering its way to the ground. Had they really believed Segan dead? Were they creating their own new country here? Was that what the strange flag meant? “Yes, and he told me to return in the spring, with…with aid.” Rick didn’t think this was the right time to mention ghosts. Besides, he hadn’t figured out himself how he was going to honor that part of his promise. “It’s spring,” he continued. “You need to go rescue them.”
“You? Need. Me?” General Alborn said, eyebrows raised. “I am in charge here, not you. I consult with my advisors.” He waved his hand. Ricky noticed Guy’s unmasked smirk. “How is it that you were able to speak with the king? Where is he?”
Surely Alborn would have heard about the unicorn and the magicians’ battle at Nimrock. Exactly how protected was he down south here, so far from the capital, relaxing in this rich city, away from everything important? And why hadn’t Guy told them any of this? “After Nimrock was destroyed last autumn,” Rick said, “I returned to the Spike capital. They’d taken my family. I wanted to see if I could rescue them.”
“Alone?”
“Yes.”
The entire room was silent for a moment, and then everyone burst into laughter. Even the servants chuckled. Maybe they did know about the Spikonians and their strength. Maybe they found it amusing that a single boy could walk into a Spike dungeon and rescue people. Maybe they didn’t know about magic. He could demonstrate. He could show them. Drake would approve.
The general laughed so hard, he wiped tears from his cheeks before taking a drink from his goblet, only to spit it out in a laugh. Only Guy hadn’t outwardly joined the merriment. He bent over and whispered something in the general’s ear, then the general turned to Rick.
“You were unsuccessful in your rescue,” Alborn said, scowling.
Finally. Finally, the general was listening. “Partially,” Rick said. “I was able to rescue a handful of the prisoners.”
“Your family, I assume.”
“My father and sister are still imprisoned,” Rick answered, feeling indignant at the implication that he had been selfish. “And so is King Segan, along with many of our countrymen. Although a number of the Farhnerian soldiers were…missing. Not there.” Rick frowned, remembering the Spikonian Great Hall being used as for warrior games. “The important thing,” he continued, “is that King Segan sent me for help.”
“And it’s taken you half a year to give me his message? How far away is this place where he is supposedly imprisoned?”
Rick felt his jaw drop open. There were circumstances. He had to get his family someplace safe first.
Guy whispered again to the general, and Alborn snorted. “You do not appear to be a very trustworthy messenger, do you?” he said, then straightened up in his chair. “I hear you also boast how you saved Nimrock eighteen moons ago from…the, er…witch all by yourself.”
“What? I didn’t.” Rick was confused. How could he have heard such a thing?
Alborn sat back in his chair and glared at Rick. “So now you’re telling me you saw the king, spoke to him, and even had a chance to rescue him, but instead, you abandoned him, saving yourself, and are now an army deserter.” He straightened up and motioned to someone behind Rick. A guard stepped forward.
“No sir,” Rick said shaking on the inside. Why wouldn’t the general listen? How could he not believe the Spikonians were a threat? “I’ve been on a mission from the king. I came here to you as soon as I could. The Spikonians will bring down your walls, just like they did with Nimrock.”
“Barabook walls are made of stronger material than the mud of the northern plains,” Guy said. “We will be prepared against anything your witch can throw at us. Our walls will last.”
The other four relaxed and sipped from their goblets.
“You say your walls will last,” Rick said, feeling anger simmering inside of him. “You think they will stand against someone with power to magically make walls crumble?”
“You should have put that witch in prison,” one of the other men at the table said. “Or tossed her in the Bottoms where she couldn’t do any harm. Did Nimrock have a Bottoms? Of course, they must have.
Rick opened his mouth to respond. Walls wouldn’t stop Alyse. A prison couldn’t hold her. He decided on another approach. “Are you prepared to fight thousands of Spikonian soldiers, with war machines that can toss boulders the size of your table to smash through anything? Their army will cover your fields like locusts. And what about Segan? Your king? Will you let him rot in a Spike dungeon with the magicians and citizens of Nimrock while you build walls which won’t last?”
One of the plump men rose. His face was red, with anger or ale or both. Each piece of his clothing was trimmed in glittering gold and silver threads. The man marched around the table with his goblet in hand and then threw the remaining wine onto Rick. If someone had drawn a sword on him, Rick would know how to respond. How did one fight liquid?
“How dare you accuse us of not acting?” the man spluttered. “Of not being prepared? I am the mayor, and I say we are protecting our own. What we build lasts, with granite shipped from the east, unlike the mud walls you prairie country folk used.”
Rick wiped the wine from his face with his sleeve and stood there alone. The major had obviously never been to Nimrock, never seen her mighty stone wall.
“Segan is an upstart king, just a soldier coming up from the ranks,” the mayor continued. “He is just like any king, never caring a shilling about us except to collect taxes. Barabook is the only reason Farhner exists. Without our money, without our hard-earned wealth and shipping industry, who else could fill the king’s treasury? How would the military be paid if it weren’t for my merchants?”
Guy leaned back in his chair, as if all this was for his personal entertainment.
“This is not about money,” Rick said. “It’s about people, our king.”
“Everything’s about money,” the mayor answered.
Rick turned to the general. “Sir. Segan is your king. Your sovereign. Won’t you send a company to rescue him?”
The general scowled at Rick, then sat back and rubbed his bare chin. “We shall discuss it,” he answered. “In the meantime, Major, which division do you suggest this man be assigned to?”
“The wall closest to the Bottoms needs attention,” Guy answered. “There may be more of an immediate threat from those people than from any Spikonian scouts who might make their way all the way down here. Magicians live in the Bottoms, too.” Guy glared at Rick. “Report to Captain Geoffrey tomorrow morning.” His smirk engulfed his face.
“And with that,” the mayor said, straightening out his gown and grabbing his goblet, “you may leave.”