The Green Knight (Space Lore Book 1) (15 page)

With the alarms quieted, there was near silence as the ship sailed across the sky, getting lower and closer to the planet’s surface. In a quick blur, they passed over a river. After a while, they could make out individual trees. They saw a herd of brackenn galloping away from the fiery object streaking down toward them.

She smiled as the beasts ran with their young, off toward the hills and to the simple life they lived. Then the ship slammed against the planet and her head was thrown against a metal panel diagonally in front of her. Then, only blackness.

She dreamed of the Green Knight, her father, and Galen. Rather than have three separate dreams, all three people appeared at the same time. The lot of them stood in the king’s throne room together. She was standing next to her father, looking out the window at the fields stretching far out into the kingdom. Outside, the Vonnegan army had descended from the sky and was marching across the open field, toward her and all the buildings and homes her father was supposed to keep safe.

“You have to do something,” she said, but he only shrugged his shoulders.

Behind her, in the shadows, the Green Knight honed the blade of his axe to make sure it was as sharp as possible. Each time the knight did this, a metallic ripping noise echoed through the chambers, giving Vere chills.

“Tell him he has to do something,” she said to Galen, but he was also on the other side of the room, peering out the windows that overlooked Edsall Dark’s commercial center and the space docks.

The Green Knight’s axe scraped against the metal file. GRRRRKKKKKK.

“We have to do something,” she said again, but her father gave a pitiful smile while Galen refused to acknowledge she was there.

GRRRRKKKKKK.

“There’s still time,” she begged. “There doesn’t have to be a war. We can stop this.”

Her father turned away from the window and from the army approaching in the distance. When he faced her, he seemed confused.

“Do something?” he said in a croaking whisper. “They wouldn’t be attacking if you had married Mowbray’s son.”

GRRRRKKKKKK.

“Father, don’t—”

“Or at least if you had been here earlier,” Galen said, turning toward her as well, “you could have straightened this all out. Now everyone is going to die.”

“Galen, I—”

GRRRRKKKKKK.

“It’s time,” the Green Knight said, stepping toward her with his axe.

“No!” she yelled, putting her arms out as the Green Knight strode toward her.

That was when she woke to find Occulus and Baldwin standing over her. Still half in a dream state, thinking one of the figures in front of her might be the Green Knight, she smacked away their hands until her eyes focused and she saw who they were.

Next to her, Morgan and Traskk were unbuckling A’la Dure from her seat and carrying her out of the cockpit where they could put her flat on her back.

“Is she okay?” Vere managed to say.

“She’ll be fine,” Occulus said, lifting her eyelid and peering at her pupil. “For a crash landing, we got away pretty well. I think the two of you got the worst of it.”

Vere tried to stand but a wave of dizziness and searing pain shot through her head.

“Relax,” Baldwin said, “You took a good hit. Stay seated and I’ll bring some supplies.”

“The medical station,” she said.

“Heavily damaged. Just like every other part of the ship. But Pistol is gathering any first aid supplies he can find and we’ll get you bandaged up and walking.”

“Funny way to arrive back home,” Occulus said, but he wasn’t smiling and didn’t intend for Vere to find it amusing either.

“Maybe someone will come get us?” she said, squinting.

Occulus turned and looked out the cracked remains of the cockpit. “Doubtful. Your father’s forces had every opportunity to stop those bounty hunters and didn’t. If they weren’t going to keep you from getting shot out of the sky, I doubt they’re going to give you a ride back to the kingdom.” He paused, “But…”

“But what?” she said.

“That doesn’t mean they won’t come here for a different reason.”

Pistol walked into the cockpit with a box of supplies. After handing it to Baldwin, he took a quick look at Vere, nodded, then left again.

Baldwin stuck a needle into her forearm. “This will help with the pain,” he said. He gave her a pill and some water. “For your head.”

After swallowing the pill, she said, “You think they’ll try to kill me?”

Occulus rubbed the white hair of his beard. “Even if they don’t send someone, what’s to stop all the bounty hunters in the galaxy from getting you? You’re in the middle of nowhere.”

“My father—” she started to say, but Occulus shook his head.

“I would guess your father is already dead or, to the people who are now running the kingdom, might as well be.”

She wanted to find something in his callous remark to take offense with. Deep down, though, she knew he was telling the truth.

All she could think to say was, “Why?”

“We won’t know until we get to CamaLon,” Occulus said, looking out the sky through shards of broken glass and a place where the ship’s steel frame right in between her chair and A’la Dure’s had been ripped apart by stone.

She was going to tell him he would have all of the time in the world to enjoy the pretty view before realizing why he kept looking out at the sky above them. He was trying to see if any ships were coming their way.

“We’ll never make it there.”

“We can try,” he said.

“Pistol!”

The android appeared at the cockpit doorway.

Cringing from the remnants of pain that the shot hadn’t yet numbed, she asked, “What are the chances we get to my father’s in six days?”

The android looked at her without any indication of enthusiasm or mockery. No emotion at all. The slight clear blue tinge of his skin was accentuated in the darkness of the cockpit.

“By foot?”

“Yes.”

His eyes glowed as he ran the calculations. “Less than four percent if everyone was healthy. You and A’la Dure will slow everyone down.” She loved how objective he was, never pulling any punches. The android added, “As will the giant sack of lard, even though he is unhurt.”

“I heard that!” Fastolf yelled from the next room over.

“If just you, Traskk, and Morgan go?” she said, putting a hand up when Occulus started to complain.

The android’s eyes glowed again. “We would get there within six days with a ninety-five percent certainty.”

“Your father needs you,” Occulus said.
 

“You said yourself that my father is probably already dead.”

“You gave the Green Knight your word.”

“You think I care about that right now?”

“You gave your word.”

She frowned at him. “So eager to see me lose my head?”

“Of course not,” Occulus said. “But what else do you have besides your word?”

She could tell the painkillers Baldwin had given her were kicking in because there was no lightheadedness or dizziness when she scoffed and pushed herself out of her chair and up to her feet.

Morgan elbowed her way next to Pistol, who looked at her with what might have been mild robotic contempt or just confusion, and said, “It’s a matter of time until a bounty hunter finds us sitting around like a pack of lazy shrep. We have to get out of here right now.”

The group filed out of the cockpit and to the lounge, where Baldwin had A’la Dure lying on her back with her head propped up. Fastolf was standing next to a group of backpacks someone had gathered, each filled with supplies, food, and gear. He was taking whatever sweets he could find from the top of each bag when Vere came out of the cockpit.

Traskk came from the back of the ship with an armload of blasters and emergency supplies.

“You okay to walk?” Vere asked her co-pilot.

A’la Dure nodded and, with Baldwin’s help, got to her feet.

“Okay, let’s go.”

One by one, they walked down the Griffin Fire’s ramp and set foot on solid ground. It was the first time in six years she had been to her home planet.

“Think I’ll ever see it again?” Vere said to Traskk, looking back at the damaged ship among the rocks and trees. After his tongue darted around his fangs to form a single Basilisk word, she said, “Yeah, I don’t think so either.”

31

 
“We have a report that Vere’s ship arrived through the portal a few minutes ago,” Hotspur said.

“Fine,” Modred said.

Even as he spoke, he continued to stare out the window at the ships arriving and departing from the spaceport. Only feet away, the king lay in his bed, his eyes closed, his lungs wheezing for air. Each time the physician came by to deliver more medicine, he was taken aback by how decrepit the CasterLan king could be while still stubbornly clinging to life.

Only after looking at the king and sighing did Modred realize Hotspur was still standing in the room.

“What?”

Hotspur rubbed the cuff of one gloved hand with his other palm. “Her ship was shot down by bounty hunters.”

Still looking out the window, Modred watched the engines of a large Chamel Cruiser ignite. A minute later, the ship had enough force to lift itself off the platform and begin moving toward space. Only after it had cleared Edsall Dark’s atmosphere did Modred groan and ask Hotspur what he wanted.

“Should we send someone out there?” the captain asked.

“And take resources away from getting ready for the Vonnegan fleet?” The way he said it, Modred seemed to be planning a surprise party rather than a battle against an impending invasion.

“It would only take one ship.”

“No.”

“She is the rightful heir.”

“And she’s been gone for the last six years!” Modred yelled, turning from the window and walking toward Hotspur with balled fists.

But when he got in front of the leader of the CasterLan forces, he realized he was only tall enough to look at Hotspur’s chest and that his fists were half the size of the man’s in front of him.

“Do not do something you will regret,” Hotspur said.

When he said it, he looked behind him, and Modred realized his captain was looking to make sure no one else was close enough to see or hear them. The king’s stepson immediately took a step backward. Then another. Then laughed.

“I appreciate your concern. I really do.” He moved across the room with opened hands, as if all were forgiven and he would like nothing more than to pat one of Hotspur’s stone shoulders with affection. “But we don’t want someone here who would rather drink and steal than provide leadership, do we?”

Hotspur’s chest expanded as he stood there. How funny it was that he had fought all his life, both literally and figuratively, to get where he was. He had killed other men who stood in his way. He had killed men who wanted to do well for him but were ultimately too incompetent to be trusted. He had killed every enemy he had ever faced in battle. Through it all, he never stopped fighting. And now, in front of him, was someone who had just happened to be born to a woman who just happened to marry a king. This brat had no concept of looking over your shoulder to stop a knife to your back, or the importance of surrounding yourself with people who knew how to kill and had no qualms about doing it. Modred knew nothing about space warfare or commanding a Solar Carrier. Once again Hotspur wondered why he hadn’t yet wrapped the mighty gloves of his space armor around Modred’s neck. No one would ever know. The kingdom wouldn’t be any worse off than it already was.

Modred saw something in Hotspur’s eyes and moved even further across the room, coming to rest next to the king’s sword. No one had touched it since the king had fallen ill. Lady Percy liked having it there because if the king woke up his most prized possession would be next to him. At the angle it faced, only the handle and scabbard could be seen. The blade seemed to be invisible. Next to the Meursault blade, Modred became more confident.

“We don’t need her. We’ll be fine.”

Rather than wasting more time, Hotspur turned and left. He had to get back to ensuring the last of the Solar Carriers would be operational and space-ready by the time the Vonnegan fleet arrived. Yet another thing Modred seemed to have no knowledge about.

32

From the outside, the Griffin Fire looked worse than anyone had imagined. There was severe structural damage. The radar system had been ripped off in the crash. The trail of torn earth, where the ship had skidded across the ground until coming to a stop, stretched as far as they could see.

“It’s amazing we survived!” Fastolf said, looking all around him at the foreign world.

His excitement almost immediately deflated when he saw there were no nearby people whose pockets he could pick.

Even worse than the wreckage was what they saw in front of them. Only mountains. They couldn’t even see the top of the King’s Crown because an entire range of peaks blocked their view. The Literac Mountains.

They weren’t the types of mountains that families vacationed in on Sentive-IV. There were no postcard white caps, no clear triangular patterns amid the rocky cliffs to distinguish one from another. Instead, the great mass of rock and stone and dirt jutted out at random points, giving the impression of a series of spikes atop a ridge set among the clouds rather than a series of individual wonders.

They were the type of mountains everyone except the most experienced explorers wanted to avoid because once a climber entered the range, they became disoriented by the chaotic cluster of rocky formations. Only when they got to the top did they gain an awareness of their position in relation to the rest of the mountains, but as soon as they descended amid the rubble of stone they quickly became lost again.

“Through them or around them?” Vere asked.

Morgan withdrew a map from her pack. “If we can find a pass, we can save three days of hiking. It’s our only hope of getting back there in time.”

“If we don’t find the pass,” Fastolf said, “we’ll be in the mountains until we starve and die.”

“That will take you a long time,” Pistol said.

Vere ignored the android and looked at the map Morgan was holding. “Anyone in favor of going around?”