Way of No Return (Champions of the Crystal Book 8)

Chapter 12.1

"Something large is on fire," Reya observed as the commercial transport lumbered over the last of the foothills and onto the plain. The capital city was just visible on the horizon, but the huge plume of smoke was impossible to miss against the blaze of the setting sun.

Ford, who had commandeered the copilot's seat, fiddled with the sensor controls. "Yes. I can't tell what it is yet, but it's not the Academy."

"Wrong side of the city for that," Edras Wilan, the pilot, agreed. They had met him in one of the villages they had stopped in, partly to cover their tracks from Vahreen. He was one of the many city transport pilots who had taken his vehicle filled with refugees into the hills during the invasion. "Not the palace either, I think."

Ford nodded, his lips tightening. Many of the volunteers they had met were all too eager to tell him how his home had been violated and how they wanted to help him retake it. From what he had heard, he did not think it would be habitable right now and did not see the point in trying to retake it immediately, but he was coming to realize that he might have to do so for the symbolic impact alone.

Stecklan came forward, lifting his scanner and pointing it through the windscreen. "It is the Legislative Complex," he said after a moment.

Ford grimaced. "Shards. That's a heavily populated area."

"There's hardly anybody left in the city, sir," Wilan said. "When I took my last load out, we weren't even full."

Stecklan said, "He's right; the only dense concentrations of lifesigns I'm seeing are on the Academy side of the city."

"All those offworld students with no place to go," Ford murmured.

"And the Military Academy staff and students," Stecklan reminded him. "I doubt they will have gone far, and if they did leave, they will come back now that the princess has summoned them to duty. That may be a good place for us to start; they may know the Commander's location."

Ford wanted to get to his lab, where he knew he could make a real contribution to the war effort, but he knew he couldn't ignore his political duties. He wished it had been possible for Sabrina to come with him so that she could make speeches and rally people and he could bury himself in his lab and come up with technical solutions to their problems. But Lily was now at the top of their list of primary responsibilities, and since only Sabrina could ensure her safety, that left Ford trying to handle both ends of the war effort. "I'm familiar with the Academy grounds, though not the Military Academy specifically," he said. "We should be able to get in through the gardens behind the Botany Department—it'll be hard to spot us in there, and I can't think the Reissians would waste their time patrolling it. And it's on the same side of the campus as the Military Academy."

"Agreed," Stecklan said. "And as we get close to the Military Academy, we'll likely run into some of our own people."

"No problems there," Ford said. "One look at me and they'll let us through."

"For your own security," Stecklan said, "I'd rather keep your identity concealed until we're out of reach of the enemy. I have the princess' signet; I'll use that instead."

Ford grimaced, but he couldn't argue. His capture would put Sabrina, Lily, and Seuréa in extreme danger, a risk he must not take. "Are you planning on putting a hood over my head? It's a little warm yet for cloaks."

Stecklan stood and faced the passengers, volunteers from the villages they had stopped at along the way. "Does anyone have a hat they could loan the prince? Or any sort of headgear that will help hide his identity?"

Hands and hats went up all through the crowded seats. Ford got up and made his way through, choosing a handful of hats and two scarves, making sure to thank their owners and all those who offered to help. He was touched; he had been Prince of Bathir for more than sixty years now, but in that time he had rarely been out among the people. He had grown used to thinking of his subjects as a faceless group whose demands must be appeased by appearances, speeches, or other chores, and whose approval or disapproval of his behavior felt like criticisms of his performance, unrelated to him personally.

Sabrina had brought a different view to her role, personalizing crowds by singling out individuals to speak to, always asking questions and listening closely to the answers. She liked to think of Bathir as one huge family, of which she was now the matriarch, and of all the citizens as equally worthy of her care and attention.

Ford had tried to reorient his attitude to more closely align with hers, without much success. But from Vahreen all the way down into the foothills, he had met people who looked up to him as their leader, who sympathized with his losses and wanted to help him. He did not have to make speeches or wear a crown to inspire them; he just had to assure them that he would fight, and they followed him. He was humbled and grateful, and he wished Sabrina could have experienced it with him. He had spent all the years since they met trying to live up to the man she saw when she looked at him, and it amazed him that now other people saw that man too.

"We don't want to draw too much attention, so I'll drop you off wherever you like, and then take the rest of the folks into town," Wilan said. "I know the bartender at the Zhoern's Rest is one of the people screening for the militia."

"Good," Stecklan said. "The smaller a group we are, the less attention we'll draw trying to get onto the Academy grounds."

Wilan said, "Now that we're out in the open, we need spotters. Sometimes the Reissians amuse themselves using unarmed transports for target practice. Bastards." He pointed ahead, and they could see the skeletal remains of a transport listing precariously off the side of the road.

Stecklan went back to give the passengers their instructions, leaving the scanner with Reya, who used it with intense focus. Ford looked around, then paused, frowning, as he began to spot the burned-out farm fields across the plains. "Bastards indeed," he murmured.

Wilan nodded. "Don't know what we'll eat this winter." He glanced at Ford as if he wanted to ask a question but didn't quite dare.

"We've been preparing. There's food in storage," Ford said. He hoped Wilan didn't ask him how much; he hadn't paid close attention, though he knew Sabrina had begun the process while serving as co-regent with Baldaran six years ago. He cast around for something more reassuring to say. "My wife lived through the aftermath of the Xoentrol War, when the planet was almost starving. She's done everything she could to make sure it won't happen again."

Wilan smiled. "She's a sharp one, our princess. There's not a man in Bathir who don't envy you, sir."

Ford smiled back. "It's true I am an amazingly, undeservedly lucky man." I just hope my luck holds.

"The way I figure it, you must've done something right. Don't see a smart woman like that picking a man who don't deserve her." Wilan frowned. "Mind you, I've seen it happen, but I think our princess is smarter than my sister."

The word "sister" cost Ford a painful twinge, as it had since he'd learned about Mira's death. "On Earth they say love is blind. But Sabrina claims her decision to marry me was rational, so maybe you're right, Wilan."

Stecklan rejoined them. "Spotters are in place. But how much evasive capability does this thing have?"

"Almost none," Wilan said. "But if we have warning, we can get at least some people off before we're hit. Did you show everyone the emergency window releases?"

Stecklan grimaced and went back to add to his passenger instructions. Reya remarked, "The scanner is showing lifesigns ringed around the city perimeter. I believe I am seeing large energy discharges."

Ford looked over at the scanner. "The question is, are they siege lines or defensive positions?"

"We'll find out when we get there. It'll take about half an hour," Wilan said.