

[This is the first chapter of a new novel I’m writing, Skybreaker’s Call. It’s the sequel to The Fall of Doc Future, set in a world similar to the present day, except with superhumans. It’s Science Fiction—there are unusual abilities, but I try to treat the consequences seriously and consistently. The main characters are Flicker, the fastest person alive, called Skybreaker by some; her father, Doc Future, the smartest man in the world; her best friend, Dr. Stella Reinhart, a mind control researcher; her boyfriend Donner, a rock musician with an unusual voice; and a telepath and former spy named Yiskah. Follow the previous and next links at the top and bottom of each chapter to read in chronological order. Enjoy! - WDR]



Eirik Silvertongue sat on the fallen tree trunk, waiting for the others. He was early, so it would be a bit yet. He pulled a slice of dried apple from his pouch and chewed it slowly before swallowing. It didn’t help the gnawing hunger much. But then, the source of that wasn’t really lack of food.

It was quiet in the little clearing, and he looked around, at the trees, the distant mountains, and the sky. They seemed dimmer, less alive, these last few days. Maybe it was just him.

After a while, there was the approaching sound of movement, and Bjarni and Gunnar arrived. Bjarni’s bearded and normally cheerful face was grim. Gunnar was glum, but he usually was. They both looked gaunt. Eirik supposed he did, as well.

“Any luck?" he asked.

"No,” said Bjarni. “With the Hall gone, none of the remaining warriors had anywhere to go. One-hand has too many already. He’s not accepting anyone new. We should have gone to him sooner.”

“You had wounded to help." Bjarni shrugged in agreement.

Gunnar sat down on the log and stretched his legs. Bjarni leaned against the nearest tree and eyed Eirik. "So. Have you found a way for us, or did your tongue just get you into trouble again? Did you talk to Greta?”

“I spoke with Greta." Eirik smiled faintly. "And she yelled at me. As she does. But she did listen. I also did quite a bit of thinking. And there may be a way.”

“Give over, then.”

“I thought about what Skybreaker said to you, that your lives were forfeit, but she wouldn’t kill you. And, ‘You have human minds. Use them.' How much have any of us had to use our minds, really, since the Trickster stopped coming back?”

“Graycloak didn’t wish it.”

“And see what that got him." Eirik looked into the distance. "She left so many of us alive, who would rather have died, fighting. Why? Just to be cruel, or spiteful? No. I don’t believe it. Not after what she said to One-hand.”

“Why, then? To force us to seek death in pointless battles, like some have already? Or to crush our honor, make us crawl on our bellies to her mother, Jarna?”

“Not all who went to Jarna are honorless." Eirik grinned. "She gives the same task to our kind that Graycloak did to new Valkyries; serve in hall to show humility and worthiness.”

“Oh? Tell Greta how that was justified, for seasoned warriors, and we’ll see if your tongue can save you. And I don’t see you rushing to Jarna.”

“No. Because I don’t think that’s what Skybreaker wanted.”

“Wanted?" Bjarni replied angrily. "She slew Graycloak, the Thunderer, the Norns, and all who invaded her world. She broke the Hall, and freed the Wolf. There is no power anyone can see, beyond her. Skybreaker is, and does. Who are you, to say what she wants, that she does not have?”

Eirik looked back levelly. “I saw the pyre she made of the Thunderer, when he wouldn’t learn she was the greater. I saw it with my own eyes, then nothing else for a day. But she slew no one else there, not even Muli, who insulted her. What does she want us to learn? She wants us to use our minds. Well, I have, and here’s what I think. I think she tests us, that she wants us to serve her, but only if we are clever, as well as brave. Clever enough to see her will, and find her, and brave enough to swear.”

“Clever enough…”

“Think who her father is. Cleverness without spite is surely an honorable thing, to her.”

“Maybe." Bjarni looked to the side. "But what could she want us for? She has a whole world already. And how would we even get to her to swear, when she kills any who set foot on it?”

“Maybe she could use some Varangian Guards, or at least some huscarls." Eirik smiled. "And Greta told me about something very interesting…" He explained the details of his plan.

"Escort dwarves?” exclaimed Bjarni.

“Dwarves who have Skybreaker’s favor. They worship her father, and this group wants to make a pilgrimage, to see his machines that think. And they need guards, don’t they? Who knows what hazards there might be? I expect we can take one longship’s worth. Greta, Lif and Osk are willing to be Choosers for this, open us a portal, and go along. And after we see the dwarves to her father’s hall, we find her, and ask to swear.”

“And if she has no use for warriors?”

Gunnar finally broke his silence. “Better scut work for Skybreaker, than serve anyone else, or live on as a nithing, slowly fading.”

Bjarni looked distant. “To finally see that world, and serve Skybreaker…”

Eirik grinned at him. “You have the taste of it now, don’t you? You feel the pull.”

“Yes. I do. All right. Count me in.”

*****

Marshal Hiri looked in the mirror and adjusted the cuffs of his uniform. It was devoid of all his old decorations and rank indicators, but it was a uniform, and made a point. He’d never been formally stripped of his rank. His skin was a paler blue than was normal for a healthy Xelian in late middle age–a result of his long confinement–and his short horns lacked the rich inlays and decoration expected in one of his former status, but there was nothing he could do about that.

He was ready and waiting when the guards arrived to take him to the Council audience chamber. Perhaps he could raise the blood pressure of a few of the shortsighted old fossils. He might even manage to do it without getting executed.

The chamber was designed to emphasize the majesty of the Council and the helplessness of anyone brought before it. The Councillors sat in a semicircle on a platform raised above head height. They sat in near darkness while whatever miserable worm they deigned to speak to stood in bright light, unable to see their faces. Silent guards discouraged said worm from moving out of the center of the circle, and spoiling the effect. It worked better on someone who couldn’t recognize their voices.

“One appears before the Council, as commanded,” Hiri said formally. It wasn’t like he’d had a choice, but best to be polite.

“Marshal Hiri,” began old Lijol, Chairman of the Council, and Hiri’s ears perked up. They’d never referred to him by his rank since his dismissal, after the disastrous failure of the Lizard War, and the fall of the Expansionists. He’d been the chief voice of warning among the Expansionists, and had, in fact, been right, but that just meant he was still alive, and in reasonably comfortable confinement.

“The Council has decided to recall you to service,” continued Lijol. “In these trying times, your expertise will be of invaluable assistance to the Crusaders.”

Wonderful. The Council had given in to the Correctionists, in exchange for political support and stability, no doubt. But the Templatists distrusted Hiri for his heretical views, the Correctionists most of all, so why recall him unless they had a military operation immediately planned?

“Trying times…" Hiri echoed dryly. "Might one ask what is so trying that the Crusaders would even accept said expertise?”

“The portal zones are shifting. Soon the Template World will be accessible once more, and this time, we will not fail for lack of will. The Great Crusade is even now being readied. The Template will be corrected, and the True Path will be restored,” said Lijol piously. The rest of the Council remained silent.

You old hypocrite, you’re no more a Correctionist than I am. And what you’re allowing them to do…

Hiri looked down. “Earth. You’re going to invade Earth." He thought of all the objections… and they didn’t matter. The Councillors certainly weren’t going to change their minds based on what he said.

"Yes. The Council is appointing you as chief of staff to the Crusade fleet, where your experience and skill will no doubt help to reduce the losses accompanying its inevitable victory.”

Oh, that was laying it on thick. And it would set him up to share the blame for the Crusade’s not quite inevitable failure. Now he saw what the Council was doing. If the Crusade succeeded, well and good, the Council would have solidified the support of all the Templatists, even the moderates. If it was a disaster… there was less likely to be a challenge to the Council, since the Correctionists would be disgraced, and their most militant and devout followers would be dead.

Hiri didn’t let his dismay show. “Who will command the fleet?”

“Admiral Lohikar.”

The East Mountain Butcher. Better and better.

“I will need staff, and time to prepare.”

“Aides will see to it. Now go forth, Marshal Hiri, and do the will of the Council.”

“As the Council commands." Hiri kept his face smooth, revealing nothing. He was going to be doing that a lot, so best get back in practice. The guards escorted him out of the council room, and they boarded a transport to Xelian Central Command. The Council seemed to be throwing the full weight of the military behind this… abomination.

Only one thing was certain. There was going to be blood. Vast quantities of it.

And he was going to be covered in it.

Next: Chapter 1