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

The porter will do. My woman will be sharing a bed with me so she will not require other quarters. However, my boy ought to be sent to work while I am here. He may be of use in the kitchen.”

It was his escort’s turn to chuckle, hardly looking at the boy now. “I’m afraid our kitchens are full and do not need any other staff. Nevertheless, I can have him sent to stay with the laundry. They can use him there.”

Nodding, Gailert then waved for the second porter to take his boy directly away. “Very good. When I leave, I will require him, so make sure he does not get lost.”

The round Sky Child nodded.

The porter obeyed, dragging the boy by his arm. The child looked back at the general as if he would cry, but swallowed it. They went straight into a side corridor.

“Lost,” the escort said as if continuing with a thought, guiding the general and the woman into another elegantly decorated hall. “That reminds me. You did lose one of your boys once. Whatever happened with that?”

Blinking, Gailert found the question impertinent. His tone made his sentiment clear. “My first boy, and as far as I know, is dead.”

“It certainly would be a shame if it ever let out that General Winstrong lost against a human,” their guide replied off-handedly.

“Lost against?” Gailert halted.

The guide stopped. His cool blue-eyes were now frosty with judgment. “Of course. And as the Sky Lord’s advisor, I have kept track of your progress and failures quite attentively.”

“Meaning?” Gailert said, now realizing whom this man was: the head minister, Aster Mollen, one of his severest critics in the past thirty years, a man he had never met but heard plenty about. He was also a clear hater of all brown-eyed Sky Children. He was of the old school belief that brow-eyeds were the bane of the rising generation. Aster Mollen had even argued for their extermination at birth at one point. Ironically, or perhaps not, the man’s own blue-eye gift was minimal. Most of those that had a minimal gift were more severe against those with no blue at all.

“Meaning, General, I know your flaws and your failures. You can’t impress me,” Minister Mollen said.

Gailert snorted with a looked over the rotund head minister. “And I know yours, Minister.”

“Is that a threat?” Minister Mollen leaned in towards Gailert’s face, though he could hardly reach it with his belly in the way.

To that, Gailert laughed. “Oh no. I don’t need to make threats. After all, you did say you have watched my record with attentiveness. My actions speak much louder than any words.”

And he continued on, looking to the porter to finish guiding him.

The head minister glared at him severely, but continued on as he had been ordered.

The general met with the Sky Lord for dinner. That was three hours after Gailert’s arrival, in which he had a long bath, a fresh suit put on, and his woman appropriately attired. They sat at a table in an ostentatiously enormous dining hall where several other generals and city officials were gathered. They chatted about the state of things, though a number of them were discussing the war front near Westerlund and the appearance of more Cordrils coming across the border.

“It is scandalous,” snapped Governor Shillig who was visiting from Calcumum. He turned toward Gailert. “What are you doing about it?”

Lowering his spoon after swallowing a warm mouthful of creamy oyster soup, Gailert nodded with raised eyebrows at the governor and said, “Governor Shillig, for the last time, I was never over the Western Front. The furthest west I ever got was Kalsworth. That’s General Midved’s area, and we never cross into another general’s area.”

“Preposterous!” the governor of Calcumum snapped. “You interfered in Calcumum all the time! You were damned impossible! But you got the work done! What are you doing now?”

Already tired of talking with the man he found most unbearable to deal with, Gailert rubbed his brow ridge with a slight groan. “Your city was in my area, Governor. And right now, I am retired. Look at me. I’m an old man.”

“That never stopped you before!” Governor Shillig snapped.

Gailert leaned over to Captain Welsin and whispered. “Has he gone senile since I’ve been away?”

Captain Welsin chuckled and nodded. “Worse every year. I’m hoping the Sky Lord replaces him soon.”

Gazing over at the end of the long table, the Sky Lord ate in silence. He hardly spoke, as his eyes glowed a strong healthy blue. Gailert knew the Sky Lord had the gift in its full capacity. All Sky Lords that ruled did. It was a similar glow to the savage blue of the Cordrils, a frightening color. Among the blue-eyes there were varying shades. The weaker the glow, the weaker the gift. Those days, most of them merely looked blue. It was clear the right Sky Child was ruling.

The Sky Lord gazed right at him. He then smiled and nodded.

Scowling with dim blue eyes, Minister Mollen whispered something with a hiss to the Sky Lord. But the leader of Westhaven merely angled his head with a chuckle, saying few words then touching the minister’s hand to pass on the rest of his thoughts.

The minister’s face darkened.

Gailert gave a small nod in return and then continued to eat.

 

No one had private audience with the Sky Lord without prior appointment and approval from the ministers, usually. However, the Sky Lord called for General Gailert Winstrong almost directly after dinner, and the general was glad to oblige. They met in a small yet elegant chamber near the center of the building. There were no windows in this room, but many electric lamps. The Sky Lord sat behind a desk with a book in hand where he was reading the words of a human writer. That caught the general’s eye immediately. 

“Come. Sit,” the Sky Lord said.

Without any sign of eagerness, Gailert crossed the room then sat in the armchair opposite the aging Sky Lord. The leader of Westhaven placed a marker in the book and closed it. He then lifted his eyes with a fond smile. “This book interests you?”

With a puzzled nod, Gailert replied, “Yes, Lord. I am curious as to why you are reading it.”

Smiling broader, the Sky Lord leaned forward onto the desk. “I am getting on in years, and my successor will need all the help he can get. Like you, I wish to understand better our opponents in this world.”

Nodding slowly, Gailert drew in a breath and sighed.

“I have called you here because I need my successor to be familiar with your face. He will be coming from the island shortly, and I want him to know whom he can trust,” the Sky Lord said. “You have served me very well, despite some reports against you.”

Gailert said nothing. He waited instead for the question or request he knew had to be coming.

“But I also know those reports were made in the spirit of jealousy and spite.” The Sky Lord set the book on a stack. Obviously he was reading much in his old age. “What I would like you to do is meet my successor in Stiltson and take him on a tour of Stiltson City by car. Then I need you to accompany him by train to Roan, then by car to Danslik. Assign whatever guards you can for his protection. I especially want you to keep an eye out for those villainous Cordrils. Though we have sent word to the island of their existence, I do not believe they are taking the graveness of the situation seriously. I need you to pass on the knowledge you have to my successor about the dangers of the mainland.

“When I was a child,” the Sky Lord leaned back, “and I was on the island, I had no idea of the threats that existed here on the mainland. Our dream to spread the paradise of our homeland across the sea and from outer space seemed easy to me, until I actually set foot here. It was a great shock to me when I learned of how ungrateful the humans were for our improvements. It took me months to recover. I don’t want him as caught off guard as I was.”

Gailert continued to listen, not sure if his pause was for him to speak. He waited.

“You were born on the island. Am I correct?” the Sky Lord asked.

Nodding, Gailert cleared his throat and replied, “Yes, Lord.”

Exhaling, the Sky Lord nodded. “So you’ve seen both worlds. And I can gather without touching you that you understand the blow of disappointment I was referring to.”

Nodding again, Gailert also sighed. “Yes, Lord. I know it well.”

“Good.” Directly, the Sky Lord took a businesslike pose and leaned forward on his desk. “Then you understand you mission from here on. My successor will be arriving by boat at Stiltson next week. I want you to fly to Stiltson from here. I’ve already telegrammed ahead for a car to wait for you. I’ll send your driver back to Roan to meet you there. Your woman and footman can stay here in the meantime. Do you have any questions before you go and pack?”

Blinking, Gailert had a mountain of questions. However he only chose the few on the top. “Yes, Lord. Why haven’t you chosen your high minister for this task? I am sure he must be particularly upset that you have chosen me.”

Laughing, the Sky Lord leaned back in his chair. “I knew you were a keen man. I’ll tell you why. Despite all the politics and petty squabbles over favor with me—you actually care about our nation. This is the kind of man I want my successor to meet when stepping upon land. The last thing I want is him first meeting someone from my cabinet who cares only for looking good and gaining my favor through sycophancy. I’d like him to be optimistic.”

Nodding, a smile returning, Gailert said, “So you are sending an optimist?”

“No.” Shaking his head, the Sky Lord continued to smile. “I am sending my best man.”

*

“Hey.” Someone nudged Key then shook him a little harder to wake him. “Hey. Are you hungry?”

Keeping himself from groaning, Key looked up. He saw Kleston crouching over him with Donal peering over his shoulder. Rubbing his eyes and dusting off some of the snow that had settled on his side, Key crawled out from under the bush and nodded, yawning.

“It is amazing how you fit under there. I could hardly see you,” Kleston said just above a whisper.

Looking around, Key rubbed his eyes again. “How long have I been asleep?”

“About nine hours,” Kleston said. “You’ve been sleeping longer since they drained you.”

Donal stood up with a huff and walked off. “Sorry.”

Both Key and Kleston cast him a look. Both were glad he stopped hovering over them. Kleston then whispered to Key so that no one would hear, “We still have a few hours before sunset. We’ve already discussed a plan. We sent someone back for the magician. He’s preparing a demon trap. Apparently they don’t work on Cordrils for some reason, but we know they hold Sky Children.”

“Are we going to lure them into it?” Key asked, blinking at him. His eyes still refused to focus in the bright afternoon light.

Kleston shook his head. “No. They’re drawing it around the city. The magician has volunteered to go in to the center of the city to activate it. It is a risk he wants to take.”

“And then what?” Key asked.

Nodding to the Cordrils, Kleston said, “They want to go in and kill them all.”

“But they could—”

“I told them it was stupid,” Kleston said. “But they insisted to do it the old way. I don’t know why, but it is like they want to see the faces of the Sky Children as they kill them.”

Key felt sick.

“I suggested we set the city on fire,” the witch said, walking over. He had in his hand a bucket with a noxious smelling brew