The End of Time (20 page)

Sandar heaved out a breath. “I don’t like leaving you.” Sophie whipped her head from side to side. But Sandar knew what had to be done, and he took her firmly by the hand. “Take care, Hap,” Sandar whispered. “Get back to the Aerie somehow. I’ll get you all safely away.”

Hap walked onto the dock. His steps were awkward, and it felt like he was pushing through water. Every man from the
Vanquisher
, and the spy as well, was staring at him. He saw some of them nudge each other and whisper. One of them spoke louder, and Hap heard him say, “Those eyes!”

He stopped when he was a few paces away and stood before them. The envoy gazed at him and talked out of the side of his mouth, toward the spy. “There is something special about this boy?”

“It is rumored that he possesses some magical abilities. A seer of some kind,” the spy replied. “And it’s said that he can leap great distances.”

Hap dipped his head and stared at his feet. His face had reddened, he knew; he could feel the warmth in his cheeks. They were speaking about him as if he wasn’t even there.

“His eyes are unnatural,” the envoy said.

“Yes. At any rate, I thought the Supremacy might be interested,” the spy replied.

“He’ll be here soon. You men—make sure this area is safe.” At the envoy’s command, most of the soldiers trotted past Hap and searched the docks.

The Supremacy,
Hap said to himself. He supposed it was that silver-haired man. When he looked back at the
Vanquisher
he saw a second small boat being carefully lowered to the water. Like the first it was filled with men armed with those strange clubs. But sitting among them was the silver-haired man himself. He wore a black tunic that fell to his ankles, and carried a tall, silver staff. There was something around his waist that looked, from that distance, like a cluster of large metal rings. They glittered when the sunlight struck them.

The boat lingered beside the great ship for a long while. Hap wondered why, until he heard hooves and rolling wheels behind him, and turned to see the royal carriage rumbling through the only open gate in the harbor wall. The king was approaching, and these invaders were making certain that it would be the king, and not their Supremacy, who would wait on the dock for the other party to arrive.

As the carriage approached, the driver stared, owl-eyed, at the
Vanquisher
. He stopped the carriage at the foot of the road, right before the wooden planks of the dock. Hap watched, trying to keep his legs from visibly shaking, as the door opened, wondering if Umber was really inside. His stomach soured as Larcombe stepped out, looking frightened and angry. Next, to Hap’s great relief, came Umber, who gaped at the beastly ship with his mouth hanging open. Umber normally would have looked at an extraordinary thing with pure delight, but he seemed to regard the
Vanquisher
with dread and even a terrible recognition.

Loden stepped out last, looking ten years older. His face was the color of the oldest parchments in Umber’s archives. He gripped the carriage door to steady himself.

“Come here at once,” commanded the envoy. Loden and Larcombe hesitated, but Umber gave them a disdainful glance and marched briskly down the dock. Loden was in a daze, but Larcombe tugged his elbow, and they followed.

“Happenstance?” Umber said, with a sudden loopy grin. Hap managed to smile back, and Umber clapped his shoulders with both hands. “My boy. What are you doing here?”

Hap paused while Loden and Larcombe passed by. Loden moved like a sleepwalker, but Larcombe’s gaze darted everywhere, and he licked his lips without pause.

“Stop there and remove your weapons,” the envoy said. Larcombe sneered at the envoy, but he drew his sword from its scabbard and his knife from his hip and let them clatter to the planks. Loden hadn’t moved, and so Larcombe took his sword from him.

Umber shrugged. “I’m not much for weapons myself,” he said.

The envoy stared back with narrowed eyes. “Stand here, all of you.” He pointed to the space directly before him. Umber put his arm across Hap’s shoulder and they walked there together, taking their place beside Loden and Larcombe.

The second boat had reached the dock. Two dozen men climbed out first and stood facing one another in opposing lines, forming a corridor that ended where Umber and the others had assembled.

“Say something,” Larcombe said to Loden, nearly hissing the words.

Loden had been gaping at the
Vanquisher
, seeming to barely comprehend the sight. But his eyes cleared and focused on the envoy. “I . . . I am the king here,” he stammered. “You have no—”

“Shut your mouth,” the envoy said. The men near him raised those strange clubs, pointing them at Loden, who clamped his mouth audibly. Larcombe’s face went purple, and he trembled with rage.

The envoy, the spy, and all of the others swiveled in place, clapped their hands to their sides, and stared straight ahead. Hap saw the tall, silver-haired man step up from the boat. He climbed the rungs of the short ladder and stood at the end of the corridor of men. There was a smile on his face, and then he laughed and clapped his hands together. Hap realized that he was staring directly at Umber, and he turned to see how Umber was reacting to this unexpected attention.

Umber stared back, goggle-eyed. His legs wobbled and buckled, and he clutched Hap’s shoulder to keep from falling. “This can’t be,” Umber said. “It can’t be true.”

 
CHAPTER
25

“Who is he?” Hap asked. The silver-
haired man strode toward them. Now Hap could see that the circular things that hung at his waist were crowns: at least seven glorious crowns, no two alike, made from precious gold and silver, and studded with jewels.

“It’s my friend,” Umber said thickly. “Jonathan Doane.”

It was Hap’s turn to be stunned. Doane was the man from Umber’s world who had decided to gather that civilization’s vast knowledge of science, engineering, medicine, music, architecture, and more, and store it all on the wondrous machine that Umber had brought with him. And now Doane stood before them, another refugee from a lost world, weeping with joy as he pulled Umber into an embrace.

“Brian! Brian Umber! I wouldn’t believe it till I saw you with my own eyes!” Doane took Umber by the shoulders and looked him up and down. “This is the finest day of my second life, seeing you again! Can you believe it?”

Umber shook his head like a dog throwing off water. Hap could see emotions colliding on his face: shock, worry, confusion, and surprise. Umber blinked and choked out a laugh. “I . . . no. I can’t believe this at all. To think, you were brought here, just like me.”

Doane gave Umber a conspiratorial wink. “Let’s not say too much about that, eh?” he whispered. He gazed at the scene around him, from the sleek ships to the handsome buildings. His deep, thunderous voice boomed out again. “Look at what you’ve accomplished with all your knowledge. Yes, I’ve heard about everything you’ve done.”

Umber’s dazed grin faltered as he looked past Doane to the hulking ship that loomed in the harbor like a thunderhead. “I’ve tried to be useful. But . . . what have you been up to, Jonathan?”

Doane peered over his shoulder at the
Vanquisher
. His chest puffed, and he flashed his teeth. “Isn’t she stunning? But look at your sailing ships—how quaint! Clippers, I think? No, schooners! You’ll have to explain why you stopped at such a primitive design, with all the information you possessed at your fingertips.” Umber’s shoulders twitched at that remark, and Doane’s shaggy eyebrows rose and fell twice. “Surely, Umber, you could have constructed something just as formidable as the
Vanquisher
, artillery and all!”

“What?” cried Loden, straightening out of his slouch. He pointed at Umber, stabbing the air. “
You
could have made something like that ship—with those weapons—to safeguard this kingdom from such an invasion? My father begged you to use your ingenuity for our defense! You had that power, and you did
nothing
?”

“I saw no need,” Umber said.

Doane turned toward Loden and angled his head. His voice grew cold and stern. “Mind your tone when you speak to my friend.”

Loden swallowed, audibly, and struggled to maintain a regal air, but the quiver in his voice betrayed his fear. “Y-your
friend
? That man is my subject, and a traitor at that. I am k-king here, and will speak as I see f-fit.” Larcombe was watching the scene with his eyes narrowed and his glance darting from man to man. His tongue slid across his lips again, and he crossed his arms, putting a hand inside the opposite sleeve.

Doane shook his head and smirked at Loden. “Poor little man. You are only king until I take your crown and add it to these.” He ran his fingers across the glittering crowns he wore at his waist. Loden gasped and clutched his own throat.

Umber cleared his throat. “Jonathan. You mean to depose this king?”

Doane winked again and pointed at the men assembled with their strange clubs. “Unless he prefers the alternative.”

Hap thought that Umber shivered as he glanced at the oddly shaped clubs. Umber blinked and fidgeted, as if some inner struggle was manifesting itself in his hands and feet. But he forced a fragile smile. “May I approach my king for a moment, while he still reigns?”

“Why not?” Doane said, shrugging.

It took Umber five steps before he stood nose to nose with Loden. He stared unflinching into Loden’s brown eyes as Loden glared back with sweat on his brow. “I want you to know,” Umber told him, “I have never struck a man in my entire life.” His hand came up in a flash, and he slapped Loden. Loden’s head snapped to one side, and he rocked backward, pressing a hand to his cheek. Umber grimaced and shook his hand. “
That
was for the murder of my friend Galbus. And Argent before him, you unworthy toad.”

“Umber!” cried Hap, as Larcombe leaped forward, raising a dagger that he’d concealed in his sleeve. Umber turned to see the blade slashing through the air, and he flung himself backward. The blade missed, whipping through the air, and Larcombe stumbled, expecting resistance when the dagger met Umber’s flesh. Umber fell on his back and rolled away as Larcombe caught his balance and came again with the dagger high over one shoulder, spitting with rage.

There was a sound, or many sounds, from nowhere, from everywhere, like cracks of thunder. Larcombe was in the air, leaping toward Umber, and suddenly was pushed aside as if a gust of wind had taken him. He thumped on the dock, as limp as a rag doll, with staring glassy eyes. His mouth moved without making a sound. A leg jerked. And then he was still.

Hap’s ears rang from the sound. Umber gaped toward the men with those strange clubs. Some still had their weapons leveled, pointing toward Larcombe. Smoke hung in the air before them, and Hap caught a sharp chemical scent that reminded him of volcanic fumes.

“What . . . what foul magic is this?” Loden moaned. His hands clutched his stomach.

Doane tipped his head back and laughed with a merriment that chilled Hap’s blood. “Magic? My boy, those are
rifles
that fire
bullets
, just as your old bows fire arrows. It’s not magic at all—it’s invention!”

Loden stared at Umber with a child’s disbelief. Hap was amazed to find himself feeling pity for their enemy. And then Hap saw blood gush from between Loden’s fingers. Loden eased down to one knee, and laid himself slowly on the planks, facing the sky.

Doane frowned at the king, and then at the men and their rifles. “Who’s the one with the terrible aim? I’ve told you, make sure of your target before you squeeze the trigger!” He clucked his tongue. “Still, I suppose he brought it on himself.” Doane strode to where Loden lay with his mouth open, gasping. He bent down and took the crown from Loden’s head. Loden’s hand rose weakly up and gripped one side of the crown. Doane tugged back. “Really, Loden, this is pointless.” He yanked hard, and Loden’s fingers slipped free. There was a crimson smear on the side of the crown.

Doane placed the crown on his head, purposefully askew. “King me!” he said, chuckling. He gave Loden another glance. “As for you, dear Loden, you are gut shot and doomed. Hours of agony and eventual demise lie ahead. So trust me when I say I’m doing you a favor.” He crooked a finger and beckoned one of the men with the rifles.

Umber had gotten to his knees, and he raised a hand and screamed. “No—wait!” But another dose of thunder rang out, and Hap was glad that he turned away and saw nothing.

Doane helped Umber rise. Umber trembled from head to foot and looked like a ghost as he searched his old friend’s face. “Jonathan . . . we . . . I . . . have made progress with medicine. We might have saved him.”

Doane looked at Loden’s still form. His mouth twisted up at the corner. “Save him? Whatever for? Deposed kings only cause trouble. Now, Brian, we need to catch up—how long has it been? So many years! Why don’t we have a chat in that tower of yours. I believe you call it the Aerie? And if the reports are correct, you can treat me to coffee!” He turned to the spy. “Spakeman, have that coachman drive you to the gates. Tell those fools that their idiot king has surrendered his crown to the Supremacy. They will lay down their arms and open those gates, or else we will reduce Kurahaven to rubble and burn the flesh from their bones.”

The spy, Spakeman, bowed his head and put his hand over his heart. “Yes, Supremacy.”

“And bring the carriage back when you’re done,” Doane said. Spakeman hurried away.

Doane looked at Umber again, shaking his head and smiling widely, and he threw his arms around Umber once more and thumped his back. “My dear, dear Brian. I still can’t believe it’s really you.”

“I feel the same,” said Umber, who had found his grip on his emotions once more. He dropped his voice. “Jonathan, how long have you been in this world? How did you get here?” His manner was friendly, but Hap saw how carefully Umber examined his old friend’s face.

“About ten years, I believe,” Doane said. Hap was the only one standing close enough to hear the conversation, and Doane gave him a suspicious glance.

“Don’t worry about Hap,” Umber assured him. He tousled Hap’s hair. “He knows everything about me, and where I came from.”

Doane puckered his mouth. “Ah! A confidante! Good for you, Brian. Well, if you trust him, then I trust him. No secrets between friends like us, eh? Ha! As for your other question—I don’t know how I came to be here. The last thing I remember was that mob bursting into our facility. I was trying to get to you, help you save the Reboot computer. There was smoke, and fire, and I was knocked to the ground and trampled, and it all went black. What about you?”

“Same story, more or less,” Umber said. He looked over Doane’s shoulder and saw Loden’s and Larcombe’s bodies on the docks. “Can we . . . step away from those two?”

“Of course, of course!” cried Doane. With an arm around Umber’s shoulder, he walked twenty strides down the dock. Umber gestured for Hap to follow. When Doane saw Hap tagging along, he laughed. “He’s like your little green-eyed puppy, isn’t he?”

Hap fought to keep a scowl off his face, and Umber ignored the comment. “Jonathan,” he said quietly. “There’s something different about you. You are . . . not quite the man I knew.”

“Is that so?” Doane said, leaning back. “What do you think is so different, Brian?”

Umber tapped his fingers together. He spoke slowly, choosing his words with care. “When you started Project Reboot, you told me that you did it out of fear. You were afraid that technology—the destructive side of technology, that is—was giving us the capacity to ruin our own civilization, either through malice or mishap. You remember, don’t you? We created Reboot to preserve the best of human achievements—in case the worst happened, and survivors needed to rebuild.”

Doane lifted his chin and stared at the sky. His eyes lost focus. “Of course I remember that. And I know what you’re thinking, Brian. But from the moment I arrived here . . . I suppose I saw things differently. Are you trying to tell me
 that . . .” A rumble of wheels approached, and Doane glanced at the returning carriage. “Ah, our ride is back. Let us go to your Aerie, Brian—or should I say Lord Umber? I am eager to get a look inside!”

Spakeman stepped out of the carriage and held the door for Umber and Hap. Doane took a moment to bark orders at Spakeman and the small army, giving Umber and Hap the chance for a hurried, whispered conversation.

“Hap, are you making any progress with the filaments?”

“I saw them once. But they went out again.”

Umber’s jaw slid from side to side. “Remember when I told you that I felt like a changed man, coming to this world? Less cautious, more exuberant?”

Hap nodded.

“I think when we cross worlds, we’re altered somehow,” Umber said. “It’s a crucible that remakes our brains. Jonathan got here the same way as me: A Meddler brought him. And if Willy Nilly brought me, who do you suppose brought Jonathan?”

“Willy’s nemesis,” Hap said, as the hairs on the back of his neck stood tall.

“Exactly! Pell Mell! I’m sure of it, Hap. And now Jonathan is a changed man, like me. This cruel disregard for life . . . this thirst for conquest . . . that monstrosity he’s built! Of all people, Jonathan Doane knew better. He had compassion. He understood where technology run amok might lead us. I have to find a way to reason with him, make him see—” Umber’s mouth snapped shut, and he nudged Hap with his elbow. The carriage shifted as Doane boarded and sat on the opposite bench.

“This will be a leisurely ride,” Doane said, leaning back and folding his hands over his stomach, as if he’d just enjoyed a great feast. “My men will follow on foot.” As the carriage jolted into motion, Doane whistled that familiar song, with horse hooves for percussion. He lifted the crown from his head, and used his sleeve to wipe Loden’s blood away. The other crowns around his waist hung from a chain, and he threaded his new prize among the rest. “Look at my trophies, Brian. We cruised in the
Vanquisher
from kingdom to kingdom, and every coastal city fell within hours.” Doane shook the chain so that the crowns clanged against one another. “Technology is a beautiful thing, is it not, when the advantage is yours!”

Umber did not react. Doane’s eyes crinkled merrily at the corners as he turned to Hap. “So, young man, you know Lord Umber’s secrets, do you? Let’s see if you can guess this: Do you know how I learned that someone from my world might be here in Kurahaven?”

Hap shook his head.