Seeker of the Four Winds: A Galatia Novel (28 page)

Lars feverishly eyed the bleachers, thick
with soldiers from every Western Nation, filled past capacity with
dignitaries and nobleman. The hope of escaping through the crowd
drained away. His own emotions were too intense at the moment to
feel Josie’s. Their eyes briefly met.

“I’m glad we became friends, Lars,” she said
with a poignant smile.

“Me too, Josephine.”

“You finally used my real name.”

“Remember the time you told me it was a
kickass name?” Lars smiled.

“Yeah.”

“The name suits you.”

She laughed a little, bottom lip quivering.
“I’m sorry I got you into this.”

“Don’t be, because it made me a man. We’ll
get through this, wait and see. And when we do, I’m going to marry
you.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Oh, yeah. And it’s going to be the best
wedding anyone in Galatia has ever seen. We’ll have one of those
fancy white cakes, two stories high.”

“I want an old-fashioned white dress with a
train that goes on for a mile and a hundred flower girls to hold it
up.”

“We’ll have wine.”

“And beer,” Josie said. “I don’t know why,
I’ve just always liked it better than wine.”

“We’ll have a killer rock band.”

“Nah, I prefer country.”

“We’ll mix it up then.”

“I’ve never seen the ocean,” Josie said. “Can
we find one for our honeymoon?”

“I’ll go anywhere in heaven or on Earth for
you, Josephine,” Lars said. He pulled her into his arms, not caring
that the whole crowd was watching. Leaning down, he closed his eyes
and brought his lips to hers. She pulled him tight against her
pelvis returned the kiss, their last kiss, full of dying hopes and
dreams. Nothing had ever tasted so bittersweet.

Just then a man in the crowd yelled,
“Galatians, Arise!”

His voice reverberated through the arena,
causing Lars and Josie to jerk their heads apart and turn around. A
dark-skinned man with dreadlocked hair leapt over the fence into
the arena, drawing his sword. Portions of the wooden fence
separating the arena from the crowd slammed down to the ground.

Dozens of cloaked figures poured onto the
fighting area.

Swords came out. Battle cries sounded.
Soldiers were fighting the men in cloaks. Trainers were fighting
actors. Actors were fighting anyone who stood between them and the
exit out of the arena.

“This is our chance!” Josie hollered.

Slaughterhouse came toward them with a jagged
edged sword—the kind that did more damage sliding out than going
in.

Josie unsheathed her two short swords.

Lars raised his long sword in defensive
posture.

Slaughterhouse swung at the both of them,
intending to lop off their heads in one chop, but Josie did a
backbend, barely sparing her nose. Metal clanked as Lars stopped
Slaughterhouse’s blade with his own. Josie jumped on
Slaughterhouse’s back. Squeezing him tight with her legs, she
raised both swords and plunged them deep into his neck.

“That’s for Willow,” she spoke into her
victim’s ear as he crumbled.

Josie landed softly on her feet, to hold a
bloodied blade against the throat of a figure in a brown cloak that
had foolishly approached.

“Don’t kill me!” he shouted in English. Josie
squinted, trying to place the voice.

“Do I know you?”

He put his hood down. A middle-aged man with
thinning jet black hair stood there with tears in his eyes.

Josie gasped. “D-Dad?”

He opened his arms in invitation.

Josie threw herself into her father’s
arms.

Didn’t they know there was no time for a
family reunion? Lars raised his sword as a group of trainers
approached, themselves brandishing short swords.

One of them said, “Screw Mr. Bayloo—I’m not
fighting Dread.” As they ran away, the riot expanded around
them.

“Whatever the plan is,” Lars said anxiously
to Josie’s father, “it’s time to implement it.”

When Josie and her father let go of each
other, she was wrapped in a long black cloak. Josie’s father tossed
another cloak at Lars. “Cover yourself and follow me.”

Following Josie’s father as he zigzagged
through the crowd, they fought soldiers and trainers along the way.
They finally stopped at the shortest section of the barrier,
scalled it, and leapt up the risers to an exit. A moment later,
they dashed past the ticket counter and into the a lot filled with
buggies, wagons, dog-carts, and a shed for the horses. Once out of
the lot, they sprinted down a winding dirt walking path. Spattered
with mud from the copious puddles along their route, they tried to
blend in with a line of spectators fleeing the show.

The path led over a grassy hill down into a
valley, where a blonde middle-aged woman in a brown split skirt was
holding onto a string of horses.

“Bianca!” Josie’s father waved. “Over
here!”

“Who is she?” Josie demanded to know, tugging
at her father’s sleeve.

“My wife,” Josie’s father added.

Josie’s face soured into a prune.

One of Mr. Bayloo’s men crested the hill. The
man behind him shouted and pointed down at Bianca and the rest of
them. Josie and Lars hastily climbed aboard their chosen horses, as
four familiar forms pelted up behind Josie, Lars and her
father.

“Dante!” Josie screamed in happy recognition.
Behind him were Lindsey, Rolf and Prince Loyl. Where was Hogard?
There was no time to ask. They galloped south for what seemed like
miles until Bianca drew up in a coppice to give the horses a
breather.

“What’s the plan?” Josie panted.

“We’ll go south, then backtrack to Tectonia,”
Dante said.

“You can stay with me, Josie,” her father
said.

“And, Lars,” Dante said, “you can stay at my
old place until I return with my family.”

Josie turned to him in confusion. “Are you
moving back to Tectonia, Dante?”

“This war is going to level Galatia. I’m
heading back there now in hopes of getting Jo, Nick and Shasta out
of there before the battle begins. Don’t worry, I’ll bring your
mother.”

“But I still have the Seeker of the Four
Winds. There’s still a chance we’ll find the map.”

“It’s too late for that,” Prince Loyl said.
“The armies of the Alliance are already on their way to Galatia.
After what they’ve seen in the arena, they’re probably sending more
reinforcements.”

“But the map...”

“We haven’t time to find it now,” Prince Loyl
said.

“At least in Tectonia,” Josie’s father said,
“you can find employment, raise a family, and live your lives in
peace.”

“But we have a good lead...” Josie tried to
say.

“Living in Tectonia is the second-best option
to having a nation of our own, Josie,” Dante said. “Now that
Galatia is doomed, all you have to do is keep your head low, and
you won’t have any trouble. I know it’s not what we wanted, but
considering the alternatives, we’re lucky to have a place at
all.”

“Would all of you just shut up and listen!”
Lars bellowed, surprised by the forcefulness of his own voice.
“Josie is trying you tell you something important.”

Instant silence.

“Uh,” Josie cleared her throat, looking
slightly flummoxed. “We narrowed down the latitude of the map.”

“It’s too late for that,” Prince Loyl
repeated. Lars shot him a warning frown, and the prince bit his
lip. “My apologies. Josie, please continue.”

“The line goes straight through Tectonia. And
it’s possibly
in
Tectonia. Not the nation. The capital.”

Prince Loyl blinked. “What?”

“Seriously?” Dante gasped, “Dr. Steelsun
traveled the continent over looking for that thing. You propose to
tell me it’s been under our noses the whole time?”

“We won’t know until we check,” Lars
said.

Silence fell over the group. Lars and Josie
let them stew a minute.

Josie started, “Does this mean anything to
you:
Repono Scientha equals three, eleven…
” She paused, a
look of panic on her face. “Oh, crap, I can’t remember the rest of
it!”

“What is it?”

“It’s a clue to the location of the map...I
think.”

“
Repono Scientha
predates Commoner.
It’s an ancient language, meaning
deposit of knowledge,
”
Bianca cried. “It’s engraved over the doors of Tectonia’s
university.”

“They have universities in this world?” Josie
asked.

“Sort of,” Bianca explained. “It’s not like
the universities your father described to me.”

“It’s more like the Library of Congress and
Smithsonian all rolled into one,” Josie’s father added, “except
it’s only for scholars, students, noblemen and the wealthy.”

“You live here, Dad,” Josie said, “can’t you
get us in?”

“No, the only Galatians allowed in the
university were personal friends of the king—but they’re in the
northlands now.”

“What about you—Prince Loyl?”

“I’m not a citizen, so I can’t just walk in.
I’m sure if I go to the Saberhart palace, I can get approval, but
it will take time.”

Josie unwrapped as much of the Seeker’s
golden cord as she could, allowing it to float free once again. It
strained toward Tectonia City.

“One way or another, we’re getting into the
Repono Scientha,” she said. “Now, let’s go.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Prince Loyl said without the
least trace of sarcasm. “But with Mr. Bayloo’s henchmen looking for
you, we’d best not travel the usual routes.”

“I know a secret shortcut,” Bianca said,
hefting up her split skirt. “Follow me.”

(Josephine Rose Albright)

I’m free! I’m free! Josie wanted to shout it
to the mountains, but with Galatia’s life on the line, it was too
soon to celebrate. As they neared the city of Tectonia, the sheer
size of the walls left her breathless. Nestled between the
mountains like an absolute barrier to anyone or anything wanting to
gain access, the tip of a second wall peeked over the first, and a
third wall peeked over the top of the second. As they got closer,
she realized they were approaching the dockyards, which from her
vantage point looked like a mismatch of slate roofs, thatched
roofs, and red-tiled terraces. The Seeker of the Four Winds tugged
straight at the city, but she tied it down to avoid unwanted
attention.

A huge iron door that worked as a drawbridge
offered ingress to the city. People were coming and going on
horseback, in wagons, but mostly afoot. The road sloped down as
they approached the docks, but sloped upwards again once they’d
entered the city. The watchful eyes of Tectonian guards made her
shake under her cloak.
We’ve done nothing wrong
, she
reminded herself.
So why do I feel like such a criminal?

As soon as she made it through the third
wall, a fairytale palace of glittering yellow stone filled her
wandering eyes. Spires galore jutted into the sky. Green and silver
banners waved a welcome hello. The view was gorgeous, but the noise
was horrendous. The rattle of wagon wheels over brick streets.
People talking. People arguing. Cattle lowing. Chickens squawking.
Doors banging. Glass breaking. And the air smelled weird—like smoke
and leather with a sprinkling of piss.

Dante suggested that they split up; it would
be less conspicuous and they could divide up the tasks at hand.
Lars and Prince Loyl would head straight to the palace for a
library pass. Dante and Lindsey were going to check for any sign
that trouble had followed them from the arena. Josie and her father
would head to the library in hopes that opportunity would present
itself. Bianca and Rolf would replenish supplies for the trip back
home. If all went to plan, they’d all meet up with Rolf again at
the Salty Dog Sundries and Saloon just before sundown.

Josie and her father handed their horses over
to Rolf and Bianca. They walked the rest of the way to the library,
finally stopping in front of a light gray building six stories
high. Its columns soared to the overhanging roofline. Her eyes
traveled up the three flights of steps leading to the double-wide
doors with the words
Repono Scientha
engraved over them.

“This is it,” her father said. “The Deposit
of Knowledge.”

“Well, Angel of Galatia,” she whispered. “I’m
here. Now what?”

Cocking her ear to the wind, she hoped to
hear an angelic voice tell her what to do. All she heard was the
braying of donkeys and someone cussing out a shepherd for blocking
the road with his flock.

People of all shapes, sizes, and species were
climbing up the steps. Josie considered joining a group of
adolescent Commoners heading in, but her weathered cloak would
stick out among the matching uniforms. Her eyes roamed up the side
of the building. Hmmm...she could climb into a window, but there
weren’t any on the bottom story.

As if knowing her thoughts, her father
commented, “The reason there’s no windows on the ground floor is to
make it harder for thieves to break into the building at
night.”

“If we can find a rope, I might be able to
climb it,” Josie said.

Her father took her to the alley behind the
library. A Bulwark hobo was sleeping on the ground with a canteen
resting on his stomach. She thought of Hogard; on the way to the
city Lindsey had told her of his death. Josie hadn’t had time to
process how she felt about it. In the little time she had known
Hogard, Josie felt that he was the kind of person who wouldn’t let
grief get in the way of completing the mission. So neither would
she.

Glancing around, making sure nobody was
looking, she released the Seeker of the Four Winds from its
binding. Her heart leapt when it angled up the stairs toward the
building.

“Let’s walk around to the side of the
building,” her father suggested. “See what it does.”