Westhaven, Rowan Erlking [large ebook reader .txt] 📗

they slipped into one of the tunnels Lanona had made, getting out of the battle.

Captain Welsin gasped one last breath as he followed them with his eyes before he stiffened altogether.

With a pained chuckle, Key shook his head. “Nah. Killing that captain is nothing like it would be facing the general.”

Tiler merely shrugged.

*

Gailert Winstrong read about the fall of Calcumum even as the battle on the skirts of Roan, as well as the uprising among the humans within the city, grew worse. He called to his porter, Saimon and then to all his housemaids—the newly hired ones as well as the surviving old—and summoned them into his study.

“We are fleeing to Danslik,” he said to them. “We will take all my automobiles and head into the mountains. That will be our last stand if we survive at all.”

“But I hear many are escaping back to the island,” one of the maids whispered. Her voice revealed her fear.

Gailert nodded. “If you wish to return to the island, you may. But I am making my stand in Danslik. Those who wish to remain in Westhaven will come with me.”

Most of the maids shared looks. It was clear they wanted to flee the mainland. If there was any chance they would live, they wanted to take it.

However, Saimon gave Gailert a low bow. “I will go with you. We will make our last stand in Danslik.”

Chapter Thirty-One: Governing Councils

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bredin Sefesher had Stiltson well in hand. Along with forged cannons set on the docks to take down the Sky Child fleet while the demons fled the land, many of the Cordrils gathered from the other battlegrounds for the final drive to the sea. They cut down the blue-eye fleets as easy as it was to mow grass. The fleeing Sky Children took whatever boats and airplanes they could to return to their oceanic origin, though the pirate and his army sank and shot down most of them.

Very few blue-eyed Sky Children escaped. As for the brown-eyed ones, those that were not armed were shackled—while their own human slaves were freed.

That night the entire city celebrated.

The day after, they counted the dead and buried them.

Among the dead Sky Children, they found the actual Sky Lord. He and a good number of his attendants were in a boat they had sunk in the bay. He was still dressed in his fancy robes, though now he was bloated and his expensive clothing was ruined. The locals scavenged and salvaged what they could from the wreckages. They hauled the bodies to be burned in a large pit outside the city limits where they intended to erect a monument in commemoration of the end of Sky Child rule.

Within the other cities in the land, they had completely taken Calcumum, regained Sundri and Wimanus, fought hard to overthrow the armies in Harmas and in Ladis, easily taking Wendora back. The blue-eyed Sky Children that remained in the mainland hid themselves as best as they could. But by that time, the Cordrils had free reign from the Army of Man to search the country for any stragglers. Most of the human armies gathered to the cities along the coast and the Wede Mountains to prevent a counterattack. Perhaps the only still-infested areas left were in the Wede Mountains. But those cities were on the verge of falling, as their supreme leader was gone.

 

Key entered Roan City with Tiler by train. The human workers that had been sent in as spies were now running the trains. They were shipping soldiers much quicker to the needed areas on the rail. They had also taken over the airports, claiming the airplanes for themselves with already a few human beings who could fly them. But Roan did not have an airport. And flying from Calcumum to Stiltson and then riding the train to Roan seemed like such a waste of time to Key. And when he stepped off the train into the station full of human soldiers, he drew in a breath. It was an overwhelmingly bizarre sensation being there. It tasted of real freedom for the first time.

“What is it?” Tiler asked, limping after Key. “Are you sorry we left Calcumum? You know, we could have stayed longer. Then you could have spent more time with Lanona.”

Key shook his head, peering around the station. “No. It’s just that the last time I was here, General Winstrong was complaining about the condition of the roads with one of the soldiers right over there.” He pointed to the spot just a few feet away. “Not one Sky Child is here now. I don’t know why I feel so uneasy.”

Tiler raised his eyebrows. “You’re the one who wanted to come to Roan. I know it’s the city where you spent most of your captivity.”

Shaking his head, Key continued forward. “No. I mostly grew up in Barnid. I was in Roan for not even a year. I just hate this place more. It is where he broke me.”

He quickly crossed the open station, leading the way to the exit. Tiler followed him until they arrived at the open doors. There Key looked out at the wreckage of taxis on the curb and in the square. They had been burned. His eyes turned to the ones that were still operating, though these were without drivers. Already humans were fixing them, looking over the vehicles to perhaps take over that job now that most of the Sky Children were gone.

Key then glanced back at Tiler who limped to his side.

“I supposed walking into the city would be too painful, right?” Key asked.

Casting a smirk at him, Tiler waved to one of the abandoned taxis. “See if that one is free.”

Nodding, Key led the way, meeting up with a man who already that bowed and grinned with pleasure at a financial opportunity.

“Hello, sir,” the man said, bowing more. “Do you need a ride?”

“Can you drive?” Key asked peering him over.

The man grinned at him, sticking his thumbs in the armholes of his vest. “’Course I can. Where are you off to?”

“Do you know the city well?” Key asked, nodding for Tiler to unbuckle his sword belt so they could climb in the back of the taxi easier.

With another bow, the new taxi driver laughed. “I’ve lived here all my life. I used to be a courier.”

“But do you know Sky Child areas?” Key asked.

The man’s grin falling some, the taxi driver blinked at Key’s face as if to make sure Key was really human. “You claiming land there?”

Key shook his head as Tiler opened the taxi door. His friend slid inside and waited for Key to pass over his sword. As Key unbuckled his sword belt he replied, “No. I’m just visiting a house where I used to be a slave.”

The taxi driver’s smile hiked up again. He nodded with a certain look of respect for Key. “I can take you anywhere in Roan. I’ll even do it for free today.”

They both climbed in, the driver adjusting his mirrors only slightly. It was clear he had already gotten some business from travelers entering and leaving the city. The man started off. And though his steering still needed some work, he was telling the truth when he said he could drive.

“Where to?”

Key drew in a breath, thinking hard of the address. “Um, take the main road from the military post and head up hill.”

The driver nodded. “Military Road it is, though we’re thinking of calling it Freedom Road now. What do you think of that?”

With a glance to Tiler, Key just shrugged.

They traveled up hill for several blocks, leaving the borders of the human. They followed the curve upward. Key had the driver slow down as he watched the house fronts, searching for the one that had been burned into his memory. As he looked at the stone streets and walkways, Key could see himself trudging wearily up them with his heavy chains weighing his feet and wrists. He had been a small bruised and beaten thing, dirty as a stray dog and just as broken as a starved animal. When they approached the front steps he had last seen a little over fourteen years ago, he half expected to see Saimon standing there, watching him with his deadly blue eyes, waiting to seize him and beat him until he could no longer stand. Key’s heart thumped hard in his chest, but he tapped the driver on the shoulder.

“Stop here.”

“Here?” The driver pressed on the brake. He then turned and pointed right at the house. “You don’t mean this place, do you?”

Key nodded.

“But that’s that old general’s house. Nobody’s even crazy enough to go in there.” The driver did turn his wheels though so they would not roll down the hill. He pulled on the brake. He turned around in his seat to face them. “Don’t tell me this is where you had been a slave.”

Tugging off his black and dusty bandana from his head, Key nodded to the man. The driver quickly stared at Key with recognition. Key unlocked the door and pushed it open. “I was, long ago.”

Tiler climbed out, followed by Key. The driver emerged also, following them with increased curiosity.

“You’re the general’s missing boy.”

“Not missing,” Key murmured as he looked up the steps. Then he climbed up them, reaching for his sword belt. “Escaped.”

Tiler limped after him, handing his weapon over. “Do you think he’s still in there?”

“It’s likely,” the taxi driver said. “If he’s not dead.”

Key also nodded. “The general would not have fled to the island. He hated the island. He would have fought to keep this land with his last breath.”

He then felt the front door handle, tugging on it. It was locked.

Taking a step back, with all the strength in his legs, Key kicked his heel at the door lock. The door jarred, but did not open. He kicked it again. This time the lock broke, as the entire thing busted apart. Key took out his pistol from his inside pocket and lifted it up. Listening to the air, he slowly crept in. Tiler followed, drawing his own gun. His other hand rested on his sword in case he needed it.

“Fancy place,” Tiler murmured as they entered the dark front foyer. The lights were off and it was. “Which one was your room?”

“They kept me in the cellar.” Key whispered back, jerking his head toward the far door across the foyer to the stairs.

“Cozy.”

“It was better than some other places I’ve been before and since.” Key then stepped further in.

Leading the way into the house, Key first turned toward the study, pointing with his gun in then peeking in his head. The room was nearly the same as in years ago, perhaps only slightly more worn. After looking under and behind the desk and around the bookshelves, Key then led them into the kitchen. It smelled of vinegar and dust. Not a soul was inside. He took them into the servants’ quarters then out again, glancing at the cobwebs that were already accumulating in the corners. The place was desolate. Several of the servant’s things were missing. When Key led them upstairs, he was not as guarded. He was sure now that the general had in fact gone.

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