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

fixated to a certain degree on this lone gunman who had come and gone like a mysterious hero in a fable. He was Key’s proof that his plan could be accomplished. But still, being one upped by a mysterious figure was not enough, and they wanted to say so. Most didn’t.

“It was a fluke,” Callen said. “He was lucky to get one of their weapons, and luckier still that he figured out how to use it.”

“It wasn’t luck,” Key snapped. “And he had two of them.”

“You will remain silent, Key. Or you will be removed from this table,” Sadena said.

“Fine!” Key stood up. “None of you listen to me anyway. I keep telling you that—”

But Sadena sent a gust of wind that knocked Key back.

Staggering, he caught his breath and coughed on the dust.

“I said, silence.”

Still coughing, Key shot her a glare. He then shook his head, rising with a stomp of his foot. “No. I have been silent long enough. You and the general are the same. Besides, I had a choice. I’m leaving.”

And he stomped away, right out of the cave.

“Not again,” muttered Edman.

Key tromped down to the smith shop to clear his head. Even as he passed through the camp, hardly looking at his friends in his peevish temper, he heard Edman call out to him.

“Stop for a moment, would you?” Edman rushed to match his pace. “You shouldn’t have just run off like that.”

Key cast him a glare. “Leave me alone. You’re not going to listen to me. You people just want to use me like some tool.”

Edman exhaled with a clear indication of disgust. “You aren’t being used.”

Halting, Key gave him a dry look. “All you care about is that I can read those maps. It happens every meeting. ‘Shut up, Key, and read this for us.’ Well, get another tool. I’m sick of it.”

He stomped away. This time Edman did not follow.

 

It was a good while before he saw anyone from the meeting. It was Lady Sadena leading the visitors from Sundri—searching for him really. She asked Tiler who pointed the way.

Key sat on the split log bench outside the smith shop, drawing a whetstone over his recent creation. It was a two-handed sword wide enough to do serious damage, but thin enough to not weigh down the bearer. The sides of the blade were etched with curls and weaved lacing reminiscent of smoke trails from a candle, a Bekir Lake style altered to suit someone’s particular tastes. Sadena peered over him with a light glance to the sword when she arrived.

“Like I told that witch, Edman, I am not interested in being used to just sit and read your cruddy map like some kind of tool.” Key lifted his eyes to Sadena’s face. “If you aren’t going to listen to me then….”

His eyes fell on the patriarch of Sundri who was now peering at him as if trying to read his past. Key blinked.

Stepping forward, the Sundri patriarch bowed. “My apologies. I had not realized that you were the heir to the Bekir swordmaker legacy. I come with a proposition.”

Key still blinked, unable to speak.

Taking that as permission to continu,e the patriarch said, “I wish to hire your services as a swordsmith.”

Rising, Key set the sword he had been working on aside. “What do you mean? You want me to make you a sword?”

Bowing lower as if to get the young man’s favor, the patriarch let his smile show that he was harmless. “Actually, I was hoping to commission the construction of several swords, Sundri style.”

“Several meaning how many exactly?” Key asked, watching this man without smiling.

Straightening up, Patriarch Huro said, “Around fifteen, at least.”

Stepping back with a slight cringe, Key eyed Sadena. “Fifteen swords? Do you know how long it takes to make just one good sword?”

The patriarch lifted his chin somewhat, watching Key’s face. “No, but I want the best for my guard. Can you do it?”

“What are you offering in trade?” Key asked.

Nodding, the patriarch took out a small money pouch. He lifted it up and then set it on the bench. “That’s a thousand in gold.”

Key shook his head.

“Not enough?” The patriarch looked surprised.

“It’s not that,” Key said, not even looking at the bag. “What I want from you isn’t gold. I want you to go back to Sundri…”

“I can’t go back until…” that patriarch started to protest at once.

“…and start teaching your people to read.” Key finished. He set his hand on his hip.

“…I get a…what?” Patriarch Huro halted, blinking at him. “Teach them to read?”

“Can you read?” Key asked, waiting for an answer with a tap of his foot.

Blinking more, the patriarch nodded. “Of course I can. But I am the village patriarch. I have to know how to read.”

Key stepped closer to him. “All the Sky Children know how to read. That is their first advantage over us. If you teach all your villagers how to read, secretly so the Sky Children don’t know, then I will make you all the swords you want.”

“And if I don’t?” the patriarch asked.

Stepping back and tossing the bag of coins back to him, Key said, “Then all the gold in the world won’t buy a sword from me.”

Turning to look at Sadena, the patriarch of Sundri village looked as if she would solve this problem.

However, Sadena just stood there. She marveled at Key. Then she chuckled. Nodding at last, she said, “Key. You get your wish, you stubborn patch-head. I’ll start teaching my camp also. Will that make you happy?”

Key lifted his head with a blink of mild surprise. “Happy? No. But that is an improvement. I won’t be happy until I know General Winstrong and those Sky Children are gone from our land.”

*

“Are you sure there are no more insurgents in the Herra Hills?” Gailert asked the captain as they strolled down the hallway inside the patriarch of Herra’s home. The prominent human leader had invited them to dinner, though it was more to save face rather than out of favoring the military leader with the invitation among high society. His home was beautiful, though it did not yet have the conveniences of modern electric light yet or running water. The oil lamps were lit. The servants walked about with their eyes on their tasks from sheer terror that the general or his men would think they were spies. So many of them had been collected and drained to discover where the Herra raiders had gone. So far, the general had his soldiers check north and south along the hills for them, even to Tobi Town where they had another post set to guard the railroad. Now they were going east to west, covering the plains between Herra and the lakes. Another group was starting their search westward, entering the plains between Mistrim and Wingsley. So far they had no luck. It was as if the earth had swallowed them up.

“I believe that the hills are entirely clear, General,” the captain said, lifting his chin up with a look not so much of confidence but of conviction. “It is my impression that the raiders have fled either to the north near Kolden, to the Tobi Forest, or to the Duglis Mountains. Maybe all three.”

General Winstrong nodded. “And what about our other lead?”

Grinning broader, the captain’s eyes sparkled. “That one man we talked with says he will deliver Key to us at Wingsley. He’s a greedy little human, though. He wants ten thousand in gold rather than silver.”

Nodding Gailert sighed. This would be it. They would find the one who would know the heads of the raiders. This boy would show them their enemies and finally they would put an end to the conflict. Finally they would be able to build up Westhaven into the nation it ought to be.

*

“Where are you going?” Key followed Weston and Tiler the moment he had spotted them sneaking off from the camp after their reading lessons.

Weston turned and slapped a hand to Key’s mouth. “Shh! You can’t come!”

Key kicked Weston in the ankle, jerking from him. “And why not!”

But he was whispering because they were. He even ducked down as they did while they were slipping from the camp towards Wingsley. Key generally never stepped beyond that point, preferring to remain in camp. But watching the boys from Herra sneak out together made him suspicious.

Tiler pulled Weston’s arm from Key. “He can come. But,” he yanked Key’s bandana off of his head. “He can’t wear this.”

Key grabbed at his bandana, clenching his teeth.

However, Tiler snatched the hat off of Berd’s head and stuck it on Key. “Wear this and don’t say a word. We’ll explain later.”

The boy then turned and continued on his way, following Berd, Polan and Rainold. The six of them crept quietly down the mountain through the thick shrubbery towards the foothills where Wingsley Town was in sight. It was dark by then and it was hard to see anything. Rainold had them hide in a thicket, pointing down to the lights below.

Key spotted a pair of lamps that reminded him of the headlights to the general’s automobile. They were the same style. Not quite perfect circles, hooded. This automobile was parked on the skirts of the wooded area where the dirt road curved around the town and north towards Hergeist village. Tthey watched a figure walk from the trees to greet the auto at a distance.

“Can you hear him?” Key whispered to Rainold.

Rainold shook his head, watching intently. “No.”

“Who is it that is meeting with a Sky Child?” Key asked, now glaring at the figure down there with anger at seeing a traitor among them. “You guys are planning to ambush him, right?”

The five boys from Herra looked back at him.

Tiler nudged past Weston. Close enough to Key, he said, “Not yet. You see, Rainold had followed him a week ago and overheard a conversation. And he found something. But when he told Frad, Frad didn’t believe it. We’re going along to confirm what he saw, but we don’t think Frad will believe us either.”

Key leaned back in the bushes. “Then what are we here for?”

Tiler pointed down the hill. “Just look.”

Getting back up on his knees, Key peered through the bushes.

Down below, all he could see were shadows, though in the floodlights of the automobile Key watched the pair of them talk. One gestured to the other, reaching out to touch the traitor, but then the Sky Child shied off. A spark of light kept them apart. The Sky Child clenched his wrist as he stepped back, taking up what looked like a pistol. Watching, Key waited as the air cracked with the sound of bullets. The human, however, remained standing. They heard the cold echo of a laugh. By now the Sky Child was shouting.

“…Don’t mess with me! Did you bring him or not?”

The human responded in a voice lower than they could hear. Only the Sky Child’s shouts were audible.

“Then when? We are losing patience with you, you greedy b—”

The shouts calmed down as the human down below laughed somewhat, lifting his hands. The traitor then turned and headed back into the brush.

“Get down!” Rainold hissed.

“Into the bushes!” Polen jerked on Berd’s arm, dragging him to the side off the slightly worn path. Tiler and Weston yanked Key to the other side. All of them ducked low, keeping out of sight. There they waited, listening as footfalls got closer.

Key saw the soft booted feet and trousers of a man walk up the hill and then pass by. The long tails of a coat swept the ground as he strode over the path. Looking up, Key had an unusual view of a face he was familiar with. Staring at it, his insides grew cold. The other boys with him held their breaths to keep from being heard. When the man had gone through, they continued to wait until they were sure he was well ahead. By then, Rainold crept out on his hands and