Spirit of Empire 4: Sky Knights (4 page)

“Just lock the door.”

“I can, but I won’t. You’re a guest here, not a prisoner. I just don’t want you frightened by my crew. I promise to introduce them to you in good time.”

“What’s going to change in a few days?”

Washburn looked away thoughtfully, then said, “I’m not sure how to explain. We’re building a tiny little machine that will translate our speech, but it’s not ready yet. We need a larger sampling of your speech. More time in the dream will help, and feel free to talk to yourself here in your room. Every little bit helps.”

Galborae just stared at him.

“I know,” Washburn said as he stood up. He clapped Galborae on the shoulder on his way out, saying, “Have patience, my friend.”

The crew spent that night killing every single gleason in the vicinity of Waerton, Galborae’s home town. The presence of strange lights and sounds in the night probably frightened everyone down below, but there was no other way. When they judged the area safe, they landed with the saucer’s leading edge a hundred meters from the main gate. Galborae, dressed in a new cloak, walked down the ramp beside Washburn.

Smells were the first thing Galborae noticed, wonderful smells he had spent a lifetime taking for granted. Rich colors and sounds came next, filling him with a sense of normalcy. He stepped down the ramp feeling like he was putting on an old cloak, but the feeling quickly ended. Above his head, a great burnished metal surface extended a full hundred meters ahead of him. When he stepped to the side of the ramp and looked aft a similar distance, the true proportions of the saucer-shaped ship became known.

He sent an accusing look to Washburn. “You told me I was on a ship. I had imagined sails.”

Washburn could not understand what Galborae said, but he felt like he knew the intent. He shrugged his shoulders. He lifted an arm suggestively and the two of them walked out to the edge of the ship and up to the main gate.

No one was in sight, but Galborae knew people were there. He called loudly, “Open the gate. You know me. I am Sir Galborae.”

A brave voice responded. “You come from the place of the gods. We do not speak with the dead.”

“You know me, Lord Boral. I am not dead. I have come for Limam. She will know I am true. Set her free and I will leave. It is safe to open the door. There are no demons near.”

Galborae waited patiently. Eventually a small people-sized door opened and Limam leaped out and raced for Galborae. Behind Limam, a sturdy woman stepped through the door wearing a heavy, hooded cloak. Though he could not see her face, he knew it was Milae, his wife.

Despite the presence of the ship, Limam perceived no fear from Galborae. She reached him and stopped while he knelt gingerly on one knee, then her tongue came out to lick his face, her large green eyes and erect ears telegraphing her happiness so clearly that even Washburn saw it. Galborae embraced her, brushing the speckled fur on her head, and her eyes closed. Washburn heard a steady, low growl deep in her throat and knew it was a growl of pleasure.

Milae stepped more hesitantly toward Galborae, her deep set eyes shifting nervously between Galborae, Washburn, and the ship. Galborae stood up and went to her, understanding her hesitation. When his arms went around her, that hesitation did not matter for the moment. Limam stayed with him, never losing touch with his leg.

When Milae relaxed her hold and stepped back, her focus was only Galborae. “I had thought you dead,” she said, her voice trembling as she swiped at tears running down her cheeks. “Are you?”

Galborae reached out and placed both hands around her face, then kissed her long. When he released her lips, he said, “Does that feel like I’m dead? I should be dead, but the man over there saved me, and his healer saw to my wounds.”

She pulled his cloak aside and lifted his shirt, staring at his wounds, then touching the repairs. “She must be a great healer. I could not heal these wounds.” Her eyes lifted to him in sadness, then went to Washburn. “Is he a god?” she asked Galborae.

Galborae started to shake his head, but the movement turned into a confused mix of nodding and shaking. In the end, he said, “He claims to be a man just like me. I believe he speaks true, but I can’t be certain. He claims he has come from far away to help us fight the demons.”

“We found your men. Why weren’t they rescued with you?”

“They were already dead. I wish I could have sung for them, but I was taken away. I’m sorry, but I have to leave again.”

“Where are you going?”

“I have no idea. Somewhere far away. When I return, I’m told I will bring an army of foreigners armed with new weapons to kill demons.”

“You should hurry. It’s very bad.”

He reached out and touched her face again. “Will you go with me?”

She stepped back from him in shock. “And leave the town without a healer? Now? No! You’ll have to manage without me this time. Just hurry.”

She turned deep, brown eyes to Washburn, eyes full of gratitude. She was not ready to get closer to the god, but she owed him. “Thank you for saving my husband,” she said.

Washburn replied with something in his own language. Neither Galborae or Milae understood the words, but they understood the intent of those words. She nodded and returned her attention to her husband. She put her arms around him, more gently this time in consideration of his wounds, and lifted her lips to his.

When they parted, she reached a hand out to Limam and touched her, then stepped back. “Hurry,” she said.

“I’ll be as quick as I can,” Galborae said.

She reached a hand up once more to caress his cheek. “I know you will. You’ve spent your entire adult life protecting us no matter the cost to you, and everyone knows it. I’m so sorry for the loss of your friends. Go with my love, and go swiftly.”

He nodded. “Tell Lord Boral I’ll be back.”

She nodded, unable to speak further. She pulled her cloak tight about her and turned back to the gate. Galborae watched her until the door closed behind her, then he turned back toward Washburn with a hand resting on the fur of Limam’s neck. Would he ever see her again, he wondered? The demons would not likely discriminate in their choices of prey.

Limam’s nose tested all the new smells, and her hackles lifted as they stepped up the ramp. With a calming thought and his touch on her neck, she settled down, but she remained alert.

The ramp closed behind them, and he knew his home would soon be farther than far.

* * * * *

Galborae was stretching on the floor of his room when a knock sounded at the door. Washburn came through, holding out a piece of shiny, gold jewelry. He attached the thing to Galborae’s ear and spoke. Galborae heard the words Washburn spoke, but he instantly heard words he understood as well, though they sounded as if Washburn had spoken them.

“We finally finished the translator device,” Washburn said to him. “My language is known as Galactic High Standard. I’m not sure we have a name for your language yet, but this thing will let you understand my words, and the one I’m wearing will let me understand yours. Get it?”

Galborae fingered the thing on his ear suspiciously. It struck him as magical, and he and his people feared the powers of magic. Then he considered everything else he had experienced within the ship and sighed. Everywhere he turned, he could not distinguish magic from reality. He ran a hand over his wounds to remind him that he was presently in reality even if things around him were not.

Take his room, for example. There wasn’t a window or a single candle, yet there was light. The door opened with just a spoken command. He had been assured that the ship was not alive, but he was not certain he believed Washburn. Magic was everywhere.

He set the thought aside—his concern at the moment was his meld. To Washburn, he said, “Limam smells the others. She has grown accustomed to you, but not to your crew. Her anxiety grows. It’s time we met them.”

Washburn reached out to Limam and ruffled the fur around her neck. “I wish we had a translator device for you,” he said to the cat. He looked over to Galborae. “This will challenge you more than anything you have yet seen or done. I had hoped to do it in the dream, but we can’t bring Limam into the dream with us. Let’s bring in your healer.”

Unknown to Galborae, the ship’s artificial intelligence, George, was listening to everything. Washburn’s last words were a command to George.

Doctor Natai appeared in the doorway, the first new person of the crew Galborae had met. She took one step into the room and stopped, giving him time to consider her. She was as human as Galborae, and he felt no discomfort at meeting her.

He stood up and bowed, wincing only a little. “Thank you,” he said, peering deeply into her eyes to communicate his heartfelt thanks.

Her mouth widened in a smile. “Those are the best words a healer ever hears. You are welcome, and be welcome to our home.”

“My wife is our healer. She asked me to thank you for her. She would like to meet you and perhaps learn from you.”

Natai nodded. “All things are possible, or at least we like to think they are. Right now, you are our focus. I’m the easy one to meet. Some of the others will require as much fortitude from you as you needed when we showed you your world. Are you ready?”

“I am ready for whatever it takes to free my world from the demons. Get on with it.”

Doctor Natai nodded. “We’ve considered this and believe it’s best for you to meet them in the dream. You’ll know their feelings and emotions, meaning you’ll know they intend you no harm.”

Galborae looked to Washburn. “You told me everyone on this ship is a warrior. I will meet them man to man.”

Washburn’s brow furrowed. “It might work for you, but Limam is a problem. Some of our warriors resemble ferocious beasts, and to their enemies they are ferocious.”

“Then I’ll meet them first, without Limam. I’ll introduce her when I’m able to gentle her.”

* * * * *

Limam stayed in the room when Galborae followed Washburn and Doctor Natai down passageways which they referred to as corridors. The white walls disappeared as soon as he left the healer’s area, replaced by warm, comfortable surroundings. He quickly became lost, but that was the least of his concerns.

He believed he could accept whomever he was about to meet, but his admiration for Washburn had grown during the past days. If Washburn was worried, he should probably worry as well.

No amount of preparation could have prepared him for what awaited him. On the right side of the room, five enormous, vicious looking cat-like creatures lay on the floor. A sixth cat sat on its haunches before them, its gaze locked on Galborae. Beside the cats, a dragon—a real dragon—stood with his head brushing the ceiling. Shiny purple scales tipped in yellow adorned the dragon from head to tail. When he moved, light reflecting from the scales made it look like he was flowing.

Eight people stood beside the dragon, each of them instantly recognizable to Galborae as regular people. On closer inspection, their hardness convinced him they were soldiers. Beside them a man and a woman towered over them. He would have considered them regular people except for the fact that they each had four arms. Despite that, he recognized them as soldiers as well.

Two people stood in front of the line-up: one a tall, spare, black-haired woman; the other a tall, muscular, blond-headed man. In front of them, a creature he could only describe as an insect about four feet long with brown shriveled skin, multiple legs, two long antennae, and sharp mandibles stood or lay on the floor. Because of its short legs, it was not readily apparent whether it was standing or lying. Bulbous eyes stuck out from its head, and its forward hands feverishly preened the whiskers covering its head.

Galborae let out a long breath and felt his body deflating along with his mind. He had managed to keep his wits about him through everything that had happened to him aboard the ship, but this final item had him teetering on the edge. He sensed Limam’s anxiety and her need to come to him, and he sent her the most calming thoughts he could conjure, though he knew it was a feeble attempt. His hand moved of its own accord to the hilt of his sword, but he deliberately pulled the hand back. These creatures, regardless of how they looked, had saved his life.

Everyone gave Galborae time to deal with his feelings, then the leader cat sauntered over to him and sat, the silence in the room deep enough that its claws clicked against the deck with each step. It stared at him silently like cats do so well. The cat resembled Limam in some ways, but this creature made Limam, a vicious predator when necessary, look like a family pet. Much larger than Limam, it had tufted ears and tail and four hands instead of paws. Yellow eyes glared at Galborae from above a muzzle much longer than Limam’s, the hairless skin on its face colored red and black and orange. This creature literally reeked of savagery.

“I greet you as one warrior to another,” the cat said. “Welcome to our home. I am called Borg.”

When the cat spoke, Galborae’s mouth opened in amazement. He had trouble finding his voice and looked to Washburn for guidance.

“He and his brothers are known as Great Cats,” Washburn explained. “They are possibly the most lethal warriors ever, but their purpose is not to wage war, it is to protect. They have killed a number of demons on your world.”

Galborae suddenly found his voice. “You fight demons? You are lethal, indeed. Are there more of you?”

“There are, but not nearby and not in the numbers you need. The demons are our ancient enemies. You, too, killed a demon, something we will not forget. I’m sorry this has happened to you and your people.”

Galborae bowed in response, but it was only a slight bow. He was not willing to place himself in an indefensible position before this ferocious-looking creature yet despite knowing it had come to his rescue. “I would ask that you kill more of them.”