Westhaven by Rowan Erlking (best sci fi novels of all time TXT) 📕

Kemdin watched as the brown-eyed Sky Child approached him with the iron. It was death for him now. When he had been born the village had celebrated. His father had been without child for so long, and now he would die. They had said his birth was a good omen—but demons had a way of making good things bad. His father was one of the last great sword makers of their people, and now he would have no heir.

“Not your son?” The brown-eyed Sky Child’s voice echoed over him with amusement as Kemdin had waited for his death. “Very well.”

Suddenly, in one turn, the demon stepped to the smithy and rammed the hot iron rod through the smithy’s chest.

Kemdin’s father’s eyes opened at the ceiling in horror. But then he turned to look at his boy. Kemdin screamed out, struggling to get to his father, breaking out of the blue-eye’s grip that had loosened. But when the smithy fell, the blue-eyes dusting off the soot from their pristine uniforms and turning towards the door as one opened an umbrella for the brown-eyed demon, the smithy smiled at his son who was still alive.

Kemdin crawled to his father, clutching his father’s shirt in his hands and watering the dying man’s shoulder with his tears. The pounding of the rain, the blowing of the wind, the sobbing of his son who loved him—and the smithy closed his eyes.

A wail echoed over the village as the Sky Children entered their rail-less iron carriage. The brown-eyed one scanned the scene watching the dark looks of the locals fix on him. One blue-eye turned to him and said, “General Winstrong, should we break down their demon wards again?”

“What for?” brown-eyed demon replied. “They’re demon specific. They have no affect on us.”

“They are a sign of defiance,” the blue-eye said.

Giving a snort, the brown-eye climbed inside the vehicle. “These savages? The last of their strong men died today, and his heir is now quivering in the soot. Those wards are a sign that they are terrified of us. But if you feel it is necessary to destroy them, go ahead. But doing so makes you look weak.”

Lifting his chin, the blue-eye stiffened and walked to the driver’s side of the car. The other two blue-eyes turned, watching the locals of Summi emerge from their homes practically called out by the wail of smithy’s child. The demons lifted their weapons, letting their leering smiles spread across their faces. One turned with a snort as they climbed into another of the horseless vehicles.

“Then shall we return to Roan?” the driver of that vehicle asked as soon as he closed his door.

With a mild snort, the brown eye was heard to reply, “No. We will be heading to Calcumum next to check up on Governor Shillig’s progress.”

“Yes, Sir.” His driver turned the ignition. “Then we will be resting back at the inn?”

“Of course,” the brown-eye said.

Their car rolled through the murky road back out the way they had come. One by one they left the fishing village behind as the smithy’s wife ran from her home to her husband’s shop.

She flung open the door.

The hot iron was lying on the ground beside her husband and her son lay panting next to him. Both of his palms were burned. He stared up at the ceiling. The boy’s hair was now checkered with white patches among the brown, from shock.

“Kemdin!” She ran over to him.

Kemdin lowered his head, tears in streaks down the sides of his face. “Mom…Dad is….”

She grabbed hold of him, pulling him close. “Kemdin! My son!”

Kemdin trembled as she held him, but his eyes were on the rain outside.

[1] See the Jonis Scrolls for details about the nature of Herbal Magic or Witches

‘Progress is awarded to the persistent’ was an old saying of the Sky Children. ‘A blue-eye rarely lets a thing alone’ was a saying among the humans of Westhaven. Both were true.

In the year since he cut off weapon supplies and squashed the rebellion in the plains of northeast Westhaven, General Gailert Winstrong had advanced his cause for progress with about as much persistence as ever. He had hoped he would be sent to help out against the Kitai warriors along the Westerlund Pickets, but the governors and ruling Sky Lord declared he was of better use in the East. After all, he had successfully overseen the build up of Roan, Gibbis and Marchal Cities and had regulated the local humans into an order that brought peace.

Of course, his work was never done. Gailert traveled a great deal in his job. Meeting with governors and post commanders and dealing with captured rebels took a lot out of him and he was starting to feel his age. He traveled mostly in the east among the lands between Calcamum and Sundri along the coast to Herra and Kolden in the north. It was farmland, and he loved the color of growing wheat and barley. He stopped at every village he visited to rest, but even that did not ease his aches. And as he traveled south from the inn on the shores of Bo Lake to survey the progress of their new fishing boats, he could feel how tired he was. His shoulders ached.

“Do you want a rest, General?” his new driver asked him. He had hired a young Sky Child with less ambition this time around. The previous one had dreams of leading his own troops, and Gailert had no intention of standing in the way of an ambitious fool. In his age, he had only gotten wiser.

Sighing, Gailert replied, “Not until we get to Rivermouth Village. I intend to visit with Lieutenant Deveden this afternoon. He and I have some business to discuss.”

“Yes, Sir.”

And they drove on along the dry road. Though transportation had improved, the vehicles more free and speedy, they still had a long way to go with modernizing the roads. They were still cart roads, rutted and dirty. Already Gailert had submitted a suggestion to the governor of the Calcumum district that they start thinking about paving the main roads to and from the large cities. So far the governor was content with the railroad.

“Sir,” his driver said, “we’re coming on to the river road.”

Gailert nodded. “Good, man. Drive on. We’ll stay in Rivermouth for the night.”

*

The other side of the Rode River locals fished, lifting their heads as the metal marvel rumbled over the dirt highway. They had seen it and others like it intermittently for the past few months. And as it rolled by, they kept their eyes on it until it was gone around the bend of the river. Then they lifted their heads up and nodded to the ones hiding in the bushes to climb into the boats.

“Did you see that? General Gole going south.” A man with bristly stubble on his chin gestured with a bandaged hand. “Do you think he’s visiting that blue-eye lieutenant or is he going more south to the old man?”

A man with more reddish hair peered after the automobile, clenching his teeth. “Better count on him going to the old man, even if he isn’t.”

“Then to the lake?” the first man said.

The others with him nodded.

“We have to get our arsenal first before that demon shuts them down for good,” he said.

Pushing off the shore, the men took in their nets while the rest on shore nodded and climbed back into the scrub.

*

“Ah! General! So nice that you could come!” Lieutenant Deveden reached out with open arms as if to give a genial peck on the cheek.

But Gailert was in no mood to play the skin brushing game. He held out his hand for a shake watching the dismay, though ever so slight, of the lieutenant’s opportunity to read his superior’s thoughts pass by. “Yes, I’m only here for the night. Then I go south. I intend to stop by the villages in the hills, but I see you haven’t built the road bridge yet over the river.”

With a hearty smile, the lieutenant shrugged. “I am dismayed to inform you that Governor Shillig insists that I focus my resources more in, uh, working on the rail bridge from Calcumum City to Herra. That has taken quite more work than even I have estimated.”

“And you can’t convince your architect to add a road path alongside the rail on the bridge?” Gailert asked.

Giving another shrug, the lieutenant sighed. “I’m afraid not. And believe me, I suggested it even to the governor, but the man seems to think that automobiles are a passing fad. Or at least that is what he says.”

“I knew it,” Gailert said, taking a seat in the lieutenant’s office. “He doesn’t want automobiles to replace the rail. Even though he remembers the convenience of them, he’d rather have people continue to pack into stations, wait in long lines and pay for tickets. I bet that means more money in his pockets.”

Lieutenant Deveden snickered. “Yes. You hit it on the head. But we mustn’t be too verbally critical. I hear the Sky Lord has been allowing governors to list dissidents, especially among the…new generation.”

“You mean the brown-eyeds, don’t you?” Gailert’s expression hardened.

Lieutenant Deveden was a blue-eye, and in his eyes there was a flicker of amusement in making the general uncomfortable. He shrugged. “What do I know? But there has been talk that some of those born without the gift are more likely to undermine the vision because they don’t have it.”

Gailert rose from his seat. “Are you saying that because I do not steal thoughts with a touch I cannot understand the possibilities of the future?”

The lieutenant blenched, remembering his place suddenly.

“I have brought the eastern plains into regularity,” Gailert said. “I have made more improvements in the quality of life in this part of Westhaven than in any other district. It is not the governor that has made Calcumum the city that it is, but me and my vision of the possibilities.”

“I do not doubt that, General, it is just that—”

But Gailert cut him off. “Do you think that just because you are blue-eyed that you are more able to envision the perfect world?”

“I don’t envision,” Lieutenant Devenden said, stepping from him. “I remember. And what I remember is that with this technology also comes new troubles.”

The general frowned.

“And I understand how you feel,” the lieutenant said. “You do have a vision. A great vision. But what the governor remembers and reminds us of is that if the barbaric elements get a hold of our technology and start to understand it, they will wreak war more cataclysmic than our methods ascribe.”

“I’m not talking about sharing our weapons or even handing them the tools of power into the hands of these humans,” Gailert said, sighing with a turn towards the window to look over at the lake. Several fishing boats rolled out from the river and were now rowing into Lake Bekir, perhaps for a good spot to fish. “I’m talking about removing the savageness from them by easing and regulating the roads.”

“You can’t take savageness out of the humans,” said Lieutenant Deveden. “They are naturally born like that. They don’t have a