Lord of the High Reaches Page 5

  * * *

  On the plateau, I gave thought to what I should do next. I had seen our elders purify huts of the sick using torches. They let the flames lick every area of a hut to kill sickness, but not so much as to set the structure on fire. It always seemed to work. It was that or completely burn the village. Unfortunately, this would put the skyships which had bottom seams sealed with pitch at extreme risk of burning. There weren’t many skyships, and the knowledge of how to make them was a guarded secret. It was important that these two be saved. I purified every area I could with fire torches. A few small fires had spread, but were easily put out.

  Moving on to the skyships, I began in the hold and moved up. Carefully, I cleansed every corner of every room. Opening the door to the captain’s quarters, I jumped back, neck hair standing up, heart racing, and claws extended. There stood a man, pale as a ghost. This strange apparition would scare a mule, as father used to say.

  He frowned at me. "I thought you were dead," then crumpled to the deck.

  "Nope, don't even feel bad," I replied, standing over the unconscious man.

  Checking him over, he had a ragged breath and a slow, irregular pulse. His eyes were red, meaning he had the plague or was recovering from it. I moved him off the ship and placed him under the overhang where there was plenty of fresh air, but close to the warmth of a fire. He seemed to be about the same age as me, but I could tell he had lost a lot of weight. I stripped his clothes and burned them by the death shaft, then covered him with my good cloak and gave him water. He drank without even opening his eyes.

  Time to heat a pot of water for broth for my patient. After putting the pot on the fire, I went back to the skyships and searched again, making sure all was thrown away that might hold the plague. That done, I started purifying the ships again.

  By the time I finished, the jerky broth was ready. He was able to take a few swallows and then a few more. After that, he slept while I searched the ships. In the captains’ cabins, I found three books, two were the captains’ logbooks, the other was a journal sketchbook. The two logbooks were written in common, but the journal sketchbook was written in clan script.

  While watching over the survivor, I sat by the fire reading and began piecing together what had happened. These sky people were from two factions, north and south. They, like the Easties and Westies, did not get along. The South Mountain clan had caught the Northers running low and slow, and after a hard fight, the Southers had taken the Northers’ ship.

  The Northers had been carrying an important person, a scientist, who for a price, was going to help the Westies against the Easties. Apparently, the Northers where selling aid to the Westies against the Easties. The king had been right; he had enemies on every front.

  The Southers had tortured the scientist, a cat named Seeker, trying to get him to translate the clan script in his book. He refused, and in their eagerness to get the information, they took the torture too far and killed him. The last few entries were about the plague. They assumed it was the Northers who had it first and spread it. That was a moot point now. Unless of course the Northers’ home was infected. If so, that would probably doom them.

  I could read the clan script easily enough, but some meanings were lost on me. There were lots of drawings and explanations about skyships, steam engines, and guns. I was beginning to suspect I had found the source of the new grooved barreled guns.

  There were also drawings and notes on what he called a ‘pump wheel gun’. The drawing showed a section of a gun that had a plate attached to the side, forward of the trigger. The plate held eight primed loads ready to fire. Each time the trigger was pulled, the gun fired a ‘round’, as he called the lead balls. The plate then rotated by pulling part of the under-barrel back or ‘pumping’ it. The gun was ready to fire again. You could fire eight of these rounds before you had to change the plate to reload. There was also a detailed drawing of the plate. He said the prototype worked perfectly.

  I took the word ‘prototype’ to mean he had built one of these pump wheel guns. Where was it? I went to the Norther’s ship, found which cabin had been his, and searched it. I found nothing of the gun but did find more books. I went to the hold, and by scent, found his trunk. The trunk was full of his tools and other equipment. In a bottom drawer was the pump wheel gun prototype. It was a shorter version of a long gun. It had a holster similar to a long gun holster. I put the gun back in the trunk and took the whole thing to the overhang.

  * * *

  Over the next few days, I kept feeding the survivor broth. He continued to wake long enough to take a few sips, then go back to sleep. His color was returning, and he was breathing easier. I searched the ships and the huts for information and valuables. I found guns, knives, swords, spears, bows, and crossbows, but left them there. I also found strongboxes on both ships; both held a few hundred gold sovereigns.

  The biggest prize was the maps. I had never seen such things; the world was so much more than I realized. The maps showed landmasses, rivers, and oceans. This country was only a small one among many larger. I suddenly felt insignificant.

  I put the captains’ logbooks back in their respective skyships. I continued studying Seeker's journal and sketches. There was a lot to learn, but each time I read, I gained more insights. My reading expanded to some of his other books; some were written in common and some in clan script.

  The survivor was awake now, but not speaking. I handed him a bowl of soup.

  "My name is Cam. I found this place by following the buzzards. I continued taking care of the dead as your people had started. You are the only survivor."

  I let him think on what he had just learned. Of course, he probably already knew. When he finished his soup, I gave him a cup of tea."

  “Where…where…did you find me?" his voice raspy.

  What he really wanted to know was if I found him on his ship.

  "Right here where you lay. There were others around you. They didn't make it." I was hesitant to tell him more until I knew who he was and the nature of his relationship with this dead village.

  "Were you and the other cat from the same clan?" he asked, taking a swallow of his tea.

  I shook my head. "No, I'm not sure what clan he was from, but it was not mine."

  "So, you are not seeking vengeance against me?"

  "No."

  He considered me. "Why did you risk your life to bury these people and help me?"

  “The Red-eye plague does not affect cats, so there was no danger to my health. And as to the dead, it seemed the honorable thing to do," which sounded better than, I was just cleaning out my new home.

  "And why help me?"

  "You needed it. My mother died of a sickness; I remember how helpless she was. I'd not wish that on another. Better a quick death."

  "Yes," he said, looking into the fire.

  I asked no further questions, leaving him to his thoughts.

  * * *

  After another day, I made the broth thicker, more of a light soup than a stew. As his strength grew, walked short distances. On his walks, he would investigate the huts.

  "You burned all the cloth?"

  "I didn't want to keep anything that might pass the plague on to others."

  He nodded. He walked until he broke out in a cold sweat, then he would stop and drink plenty of water. I let him do as he pleased.

  A few more days passed, and we started having chicken eggs for breakfast and meat stew with tubers for dinner.

  One evening as we ate our stew, he abruptly asked, “Am I your prisoner?"

  Taken aback, I replied, "No. You are free to do as you please."

  "But you have claimed this place as a prize, have you not?"

  I shrugged. "Do you think your clan will want it back after the plague killed everyone here?"

  "I have no clan; they all died here. I am the last of this branch."

  "I'm sorry."

  "Will you bring your clan here?" he asked.

  I shook my head. "L
ike you, I have no clan."

  "Dead?”

  "No, they live, as far as I know. They felt that since my father was human, I was not one of them."

  "So, you have no home?"

  I looked around. "This is a good place, hidden from everyone. Well, except you sky people."

  "And what will you do with the skyships?"

  I had been waiting for this. "Perhaps we can make a deal."

  "What kind of deal?"

  "I know nothing about flying a skyship, and even if I did, I could only fly one at a time. You teach me to fly a skyship, and you can have either one you want. I assume, sooner or later, you will want to seek out your people."

  "And where would you go?"

  "I have nowhere that I need to be for a while. After that, who knows?"

  He nodded, thinking. "My name is La-mar. Thank you for caring for me. I shall not forget this. I’ll consider your offer."

  "Well met, La-mar of the sky people," I said, holding out my hand.

  He shook it. "Well met, Cam of the High Reaches."

  I smiled. I liked the sound of that, so I took it as my name, Cam Highreacher.

  Chapter 6

  It was now the beginning of summer, and La-mar had gained a lot of his weight back, was getting stronger. After asking permission, he used the cloak I'd given him to make some clothes. Out of one cloak, he made a kilt, a vest, and a jacket. Next, he added a leather waistband and hem to the kilt and a leather collar to the jacket, finishing with a pair of leather sandals. I was impressed.

  "Very nicely done," I complimented, turning each piece over, admiring the detail and fine craftsmanship.

  "Every youth must learn these things. Wasn’t it the same in your clan?"

  "Yes, but ours were crude compared to yours."

  He beamed. "I admit my mother taught me more on cold winter nights when there was little else to do."

  "A good skill to have. I need to work on that myself." I thought a moment. "Were you with them when they captured the Northers’ skyship?"

  "I was. Their ship was bigger, but ours was faster, and we had position on them. I don't think they expected trouble and seemed to be undermanned for fighting. Our first roundabout on them put most of their men down, then we jumped on board and took them."

  "When you say ‘jump’, you literally jumped between ships?"

  "Yes, we were above them and were wearing our glide suits."

  "What's a glide suit?"

  "Have you ever seen a gliding squirrel?"

  "Yes."

  "Imagine clothes that made you look like a gliding squirrel."

  I frowned, trying to image what that would look like. "You can glide like a squirrel, wearing one of these suits?"

  "Absolutely. You can glide all the way to the ground wearing one, but it takes practice."

  "How would you practice that?"

  "There are a few different ways. One is with ropes on a windy cliff or plateau. Another is hanging on a rope from your ship to get the feel of the wind. Then when you are ready, you jump and glide down into a lake or ocean where boats wait to pick you up. As your skill improves, you jump from a tall hillside that has long slopes. Finally, you jump from a ship to the ground, simple," he said with a barely contained snicker.

  "Yeah, simple," I said, shaking my head. "Are the Northers and Southers sky people much the same?"

  He considered for a moment. "In most ways. The everyday people are much the same. Same religion, same language, but the biggest difference is the Northers are expansionist. They’re ever looking to expand their territory and influence. In the south, we’re satisfied with what we have, only expanding when our population reaches a certain point."

  "Which was what the clan was doing here."

  "We would have sought brides from other clans to keep our bloodlines strong, but then…” He could say no more.

  "So, the Northers are supporting the Westies to put pressure on the Easties, but what they are really after is dominating both. Right?”

  "No doubt, they are not helping anyone but themselves. As soon as you accept their help, you’re on the road to your own ruin. The Westies will find this out. They are cannon fodder for the Northers. The plan is to provoke a war and sell weapons to all the sides. When all sides have been heavily damaged and exhausted from fighting, the North swoops in and takes over. The goal is a unified land under their control by whatever means necessary. The Northers are focusing on the Easties and Westies, but then they will come south.”

  “And no one sees their plans?"

  "Everyone believes they are using the Northers to further their own goals. They become willingly blinded by their own greed and desire for power."

  "That sounds about right."

  "You are from the south, yes?" La-mar asked.

  "Yes, but I have friends in the east, and I would hate to see anything happen to them."

  "Then you should warn them, so they can at least prepare."

  I considered what I could do and how to do it.

  "I suspect that when you travel in your skyship, you never leave it unattended."

  “We would either lower people to the ground, then pick them up later, or land while half the crew stayed with the ship."

  "But since there are only two of us, La-mar, I propose another way. Land in the treetops on large limbs then lower ourselves to the ground to take care of business, or you stay with the ship, while I take care of business."

  "That could work, but unless the business required both of us, I think it best if one of us always stays with the ship."

  “We could do that, not everything would take both of us. Let me think on it."

  * * *

  Over the next few days, I considered each idea from every angle, each had a downside. What I could tell the king, he probably already knew. Someone might intercept my letter, which would tip them off that someone was trying to foil their plans. If I went to the Windfords, that would involve them directly, and, inevitably, the enemy would find out, putting them in danger.

  Was passing information enough? Surely the king had an idea of his ‘enemies on every side’, as he put it. Should I get involved at all; it’s not my country. But if it got overrun by the Northers, the south would be next. But what difference would or could I make?

  I looked at Seeker's trunk, thinking of the wheel gun within. If I gave it to the king, that would make a difference. I would need to put it into his hands myself. Otherwise, there was a good possibility that he would never get it. I was hoping “prototype” meant there was only one of them. I felt sure that the king had scientists and people who could copy it. Giving the king information and the prototype could make a difference.

  I would need to enter the palace and speak to the king alone. That would not be easy; only time he was alone was at night. The advantage of a skyship might help. Maybe I could drop to the palace from above and make my way to the king's quarters. I shook my head; I was about to put myself back on the king's chessboard. Maybe not as a pawn, but on the board nonetheless.

  * * *

  "So, you want to lower yourself down from the ship to the palace?"

  "Yes. Can it be done?"

  "On a moonless or cloudy night; otherwise, you'd never make it down. Well, you’d make it down, but you wouldn't be happy. Dead or injured does not cause happiness," he said, smiling.

  "When is the next moonless night?"

  La-mar paused, thinking. "Eight days from today."

  "Will that give us enough time to ready the ship and get used to flying it with just the two of us?"

  His brow creased. "I'm not sure. We'll have to see how everything works, and how well you learn. If we don't make this one, there’s always month."

  “Then let's get to work. I'd like to make this one, if possible."

  We started preparing the ship, but it was no small job. We had to check the balloons before we started filling them with heated air from steam boilers. I thought they only had hot air inside the balloons. I wa
s wrong. La-mar added a special powder to the boiler as it burned. He didn't know how it worked, only that without it, the boilers would need 10 times the wood to keep the balloons full.

  Filling the balloons and getting them set in the nets properly took all day and wore both of us out. Flying a skyship was anything but easy. We took a day to learn the workings of the ship, the sails, and the balloons.

  When we were comfortable flying during the day, we started practicing at night. Had my eyes not worked so well in the dark, I doubt we would have been ready. We were still taking a chance, or I was, since I was the one going down the rope. In the end, we both felt confident enough to proceed with the plan.

  We left High Reaches, timing our arrival at the palace for midnight two days hence. The weather was clear, and La-mar said we had fair winds. I thought they were a little rough, but this was my first long distance flight. My only other flights were during training.

  The night was clear but moonless. Looking down, we could see lights from homes and villages as we passed.

  "You’re sure you don't want me to wait for you?" he asked.

  "I’m sure. If all goes well, I'll meet you 10 miles south of the city on the north side of the lake. If I'm not there in two days, go back to High Reaches. I'll make my way back best I can."

  Approaching the palace low and slow, like a shadow passing, I dropped the rope over the side. With a nod to La-mar, I went over, wearing nothing but the pump wheel gun strapped across my back. Aiming for the high roof of the palace by dumb luck, I was lined up on it perfectly. Well, almost, I did have to push off a chimney as I passed. I dropped the six feet to the roof, landing silently. La-mar continued piloting the ship, gaining height, then turning south.

  Next came traversing multiple roofs to get to the royal quarters. As I made my way to the lower roofs, there were guards. My blotched black and charcoal fur blended with the night shadows; the guards were easily avoided.

  Having watched and timed the guards’ rounds, I dropped down to the king’s balcony while they were on the opposite side of the palace. Hunting at night in the trees was much harder than breaking into this place. The guards were complacent and more than a little lazy, thinking no one would be foolish enough to attempt entry. Guess I’m the fool.