The King's Challenge #286 and #287

TKC 286 and 287

Shuttles surround the flyer as we near the Ilfin command ship. We are not summarily shot at and that is probably Commander Gennerin’s doing. We find ourselves accompanied to the main landing bay. Barely have we touched down before a host of Ilfin soldiers surrounds the vessel, weapons cocked.

“We have been commanded to wait,” the pilot mutters from up front.

We wait.

The soldiers do not move.

The space we are in is massive. It is a hangar for smaller aircraft and beyond the soldiers crews scurry as they work on other vessels. Massive tanks and rows of tools along with curled pipes and many gantries prove this is both landing bay and maintenance.

It feels forever, but not long after another shuttle hurtles in. Watching through a small oval, I see the ramp descend immediately and Gennerin strides down shouting and gesticulating. Instantly weapons lower everywhere and the soldiers retreat two paces. Gennerin approaches our flyer.

“We are to open,” the pilot states.

“Then open,” Damin snaps. He stands and pulls Leffandir roughly to him.

The side panel lifts and two men race forward with a set of metal stairs, attaching it to the edge.

“Pilot, remain aboard until you are retrieved. No one will harm you,” I murmur. The man does not respond, but he heard me. I step to the exit.

Commander Gennerin is there. He bows. “My Lady, I offer my congratulations. The Spire fell.”

Smiling, I accept the hand he extends. “Well done to you also, Commander.”

Placing my hand upon his arm, Gennerin turns with me as if we are in a ballroom. The man’s courtly etiquette is a surprise; clearly he has paid frequent visits to the palace.

“Leffandir?” he murmurs.

“Still with us,” I grin.

“It seems we just won this war,” he states, a twinkle in his eyes.

“Indeed,” I laugh. “Announce it.”

As Damin brings the Glonu Empress down, Gennerin raises his free hand. “We have won! I give you Empress Leffandir!”

At first there is only silence and then a roar of sound reverberates. Soldiers shout and release their holds on their weapons to applaud.

Gennerin steps forward with me on his arm. “Ilfin, may I also present to you the Lady Inirir Makar!”

Silence ensues, instantly. Hardened men kneel and bow their heads. Every soldier and every crewman. Seeing it, I realise this kind of homage was why I left Makaran. Never have I been comfortable with it. Now, however, I need to use it. I need every soldier on my side, on Enris’ side, no matter which command Fenn Moravin gives his army. This must become our army, not his.

I step forward both arms extended, palms up.

The blue light is first.

Heads jerk up to stare fixedly.

Turning my palms into a cupping gesture, I summon the orb. Merely the smallest part was employed for the Spire; the actual orb remains with me. The eerie emerald sphere hovers in the air cradled in my blue light.

I look up and smile, offering also the light from my two eyes. “The Makar are strong, my Ilfin, as strong as ever.”

I cannot accurately explain what happens next, for there are no words. My hair stands on end, for men rise in awed silence and bow deeply. Thereafter a hum commences, a baritone chant without words, and it resonates from every throat.

Tears flow over my cheeks. Beside me Gennerin clears his throat.

Laughing then, I toss the orb upward. “I love you, my Ilfin!”

The green sphere hurtles in the space above, dancing. When it descends to return to me it leaves a glowing pattern in the air. The triskelion. The Ilfin symbol.

The roar of sound then threatens to pull every rivet from its mooring.

“We love you, Lady Iniri!”