Alcatraz versus the Knights of Crystallia (3 page)

"I'm letting us arrive late to some of that fall, lad,"
G
randpa Smedry said.
"But I can't make it go away entirely.
And I don't think I can bear it for long!"

"So, you mean that
–“
I cut off as it hit me.
It was as if
I'd landed in the water again, the air getting knocked out of
my lungs.
I slipped beneath the ocean waters, disoriented
and freezing, then forced myself to struggle back up toward
the sparkling light.
I burst into the air and took a gasping
breath.

Then it hit me again. Grandpa Smedry had broken our
plummet into small steps, but even those small steps were
dangerous.
As I sank again, I barely caught sight of my
grandfather trying to stay afloat.
He wasn't doing any better
than I was.

I felt useless
–
I
s
hould have been able to do some
thing with my T
a
lent.
Everyone always told me that my
ability to break things was powerful
–
and, indeed,
I'd done some amazing things with it.
But I still didn't
have the control that I envied in Grandpa Smedry or my
cousins.

T
r
ue, I'd only even been aware of my place as a Smedry
for about four months.
But it's hard to not be down on
yourself when you're in the middle of drowning.
So I did
the sensible thing and went ahead and passed out.

W
hen I awoke, I was
–
fortunately
–
not
dead, though
part of me wished that I was.
I hurt pretty much all over, as
if I'd been stuffed inside a punching bag, which had then
been put through a blender.
I groaned, opening my eyes. A
slender young woman knelt beside me.
She had long silver
hair
and wore a militaristic uniform.

She looked angry.
In other words, she looked just about
like she always did.
"You did that on
purpose
,”
Bastille
accused.

I sat up, raising a hand to my head.
"Yes, Bastille. I keep
trying to get killed because it's inconvenient for you."

She eyed me.
I could tell that a little piece of her did
believe that we Smedrys got ourselves into trouble just to
make her life difficult.

My jeans and shirt were still wet, and I lay in a puddle of
salty seawater, so it probably hadn't been very long since
the fall.
The sky was open above me, and to my right, the
Hawkwind
stood on its one remaining leg, perched on
the side of a wall.
I blinked, r
ealiz
ing that I was on top of
some kind of castle tower.

“
Australia managed to get the
Hawkwind
down to grab
you two out of the water," Bastille said, answering my
unasked question as she stood up.
"We aren't sure what
caused the explosion.
It came from one of the rooms, that's
all we know."

I forced myself to my feet, looking over at the silimatic
vehicle.
The entire right side had blown out, exposing the
rooms inside.
One of the wings was laced with cracks,
and
–
as
I'd so vividly discovered
–
a
large chunk of the
b
ird's chest had fallen free.

My grandfather was sitting beside the tower's railing,
and he waved weakly as I looked over.
The others were
slowly trying to climb out of the
Hawkwind
.
The explosion
had destroyed the boarding steps.

"I'll go get help," Bast
ille said. "Check on your grand
father, and
try
not to fall off the tower's edge or anything
while I'm gone."
With that, she dashed down a set of steps
into the tower.

I walked over to my grandfather. "You all right?"

"Course I am, lad, of course I am."
Grandpa Smedry
smiled through a sodden mustache.
I'd seen him this tired
only once before, just after our battle with Blackburn.

"Thanks for saving me," I said, sitting down next
to him.

"
Ju
st returning the favor," Grandpa Smedry said with a
wink.
"I believe
you
saved
me
back in that library
infiltration."

That had mostly been a matter of luck.
I glanced at the
Hawkwind
, where our
c
ompanions were still trying to find
a way down.
"I wish I could use my Talent like you use
yours."

"What?
A
lcatra
z
you're very good with your T
a
lent.
I
saw you shatter that glass you
w
ere stuck to.
I'd never have
gotten a line of sight on you in time if you hadn't done
that!
Your quick thinking saved your life."

"I tried to do more," I said.
"But it didn't work."

"More?"

I blushed.
It now seemed silly.
"
I
figured... well, I
thou
ght if I could break gravity, then I could fly."

G
randpa
S
medry chuckled quietly.
"Break gravity, eh?
Ver
y bold of you, very bold.
A very
S
medry-like attempt!
But a
little bit beyond the scope of even
your
power, I'd say.
Imagine
the chaos if gravity stopped working all across the
entire
world!"

I
d
on't have to imagine it.
I've lived it.
But, then, we'll
ge
t to that.
Eventually.

T
here was a scrambling sound, and
a figure finally managed
to leap from the broken side of the
Hawkwind
and
land
on the tower top.
Draulin, Bastille's mother, was an
austere
woman in silvery armor.
A full Knight of
Cr
ystallia
–
a
title Bastille had recently
lost
–
Draulin
was
very effective at the things she did.
Those included: protect
ing Smedrys, being displeased by things, and making the
rest of us feel like slackers.

O
nce on the ground, she was able to assist the vehicle's
other two occupants.
Australia Smedry, my cousin, was
a
plump, sixteen-year-old Mokian girl.
She wore a colorfu
l, single-piece dress that looked something like a
sh
e
et and
–
like
her brother
–
had
tan skin and dark
hai
r.
(Mokians a
re relatives of the Hushlands' P
olynesian
people.)
As she hit the f
loor, she rushed over to Grandpa
Smedry and me.

"Oh, Alcatraz!" she said.
“
Are you all right? I didn't
see you fall, I was too busy with the explosion.
Did you
see it?"

"Um, yes, Australia," I said.
"It kind of blew me off of
the
Hawkwind
.”

"Oh, right," she said, bouncing slightly up and down on
her heels.
"If Bastille hadn't been watching, we'd have never
seen where you hit!
It didn't hurt too much when I dropped
you on the top of the tower here, did it?
I had to scoop you
up in the
Hawkwind
's leg and set you down here so that I
could land.
It's missing a leg now. I don't know if you
noticed."

"Yeah," I said tiredly. "Explosion, remember?"

"Of course I remember, silly!"

That's Australia. She's no
t dim-witted, she just has trou
ble remembering to be smart.

The last person off the
Hawkwind
was my father,
Attica Smedry.
He was a tall man with messy hair, and he
wore a pair of red-tinted Oculator's Lenses.
Somehow, on
him, they didn't look pinkish and silly like I always felt they
did on me.

H
e wal
ked over to Grandpa
Smedry and me.
“
Ah, well,"
he
said.
"Everyone's all right, I see.
That's great."

We watched each other awkwardly for a moment.
My
fathe
r didn't seem to know what else to say, as if made
uncom
fortable by the need to act parental.
He seemed
relie
ved when Bastille charged back up the steps, a veritable
flee
t of servants following behind, wearing the tunics and
trousers that were standard Free Kingdomer garb.

"Ah," my father said.
"Excellent! I'm sure the servants
will know what to do. Glad you're not hurt, son."
He walked
qu
ickly toward the stairwell.

"Lord Attica!" one of the servants said.
"It's been
s
o long
."

"Yes, well, I have returned," my father replied.
"I shall
req
uire my rooms made up immediately and a bath drawn.
I
nfo
rm the Council of Kings that I will soon be addressing
them
in regards to a very important matter.
Also, let the
n
e
wspapers know that I'm available for interviews."
He
he
sitated.
“
Oh, and see to my son.
He will need, er, clothing
a
nd things like that."

He disappeared down th
e steps, a pack of servants follo
wing him like puppies.
"Wait a sec," I said, standing and
tur
ning to Australia.
"Why are they so quick to obey?"

"They're his servants, silly. That's what they do."

"His servants?" I asked, stepping over to the side of
the tower to get a better look at the building below.
"Where
are we?"

"Keep Smedry, of course," Australia said.
"Um . . . where
else would we be?"

I looked out over the city, realizing that we had landed
the
Hawkwind
on one of the towers of the stout black castle
I'd seen earlier.
Keep Smedry.
"We have our own
castle
?" I
asked with shock, turning to my grandfather.

A few minutes of rest had done him some good, and the
twinkle was back in his eyes as he stood up, dusting off his
soggy tuxedo.
"Of course we do, lad!
We're Smedrys!"

Smedrys.
I still didn't really understand what that
meant.
For your information, it meant . . . well, I'
ll
explain
it in the next chapter.
I'm feeling too lazy right now.

One of the servants, a doctor of some sort, began to
prod at Grandpa Smedry, looking into his eyes, asking him
to count backward.
Grandpa looked as if he wanted to
escape the treatment, but then noticed Bastille and Draulin
standing side by side, arms folded, similarly determined
expr
essions on their faces.
Their postures indicated that my
grandf
ather and I
would
be checked over, even if our knights
had
to string us up by our heels to make it happen.

I sighed, leaning back a
gainst the rim of the tower. "He
y,
Ba
stille," I said as some servants brought me and Grandpa
S
med
ry towels.