Haladras

Twenty-eight

Skylar moaned and forced his reluctant eyes to open. For a moment he just lay there, gaze fixed on the blurry ceiling above him. He was alive. How, he did not know. Alive, nonetheless. But what of the battle? Was it over?

He attempted to sit up, but fell back, his left side jabbed with pain.

"Easy now, my boy," soothed a voice which sounded anything but soothing. He knew that voice...from a dream, another life. "Quite a fall you had. Lucky you are to be alive."

Skylar slowly turned his head. His eyes met with the crooked teeth and hooked nose of Dr. Beezin, the Cloud Harbor physician.

"The battle," said Skylar anxiously, "what of the battle?"

"Over," answered a different voice, deep and familiar.

Despite the pain and Dr. Beezin's caution, Skylar raised himself a little in his bed. Krom had just entered the tent, looking customarily serious.

"Over and won," he continued. "The empire has retreated back to Ahlderon."

"Won!" said Skylar, scarcely able to believe it.

"Yes, thanks to you, and to Allega."

"Allega? But how did they—"

Skylar broke off. Krom held out his hand toward the tent's opening, as in stepped a man he never expected to lay eyes on again. The man doffed the leather cap from his bald pate, which he bowed rather awkwardly. Skylar gaped at him, confused and dumbfounded.

"Begging you pardon, your majesty," said Grüny Sykes, the moody captain of the Luna, "but, I make it a common practice...policy, you might say, to eavesdrop on all my passengers. Helps to pass the time."

"So, you knew who we were, but you didn't say anything?" said Skylar.

"I didn't know one of you was King Athylian. I knew you must be Prince Korbyn. Why else would Morvath be after you? I'm not so daft as I look. No, I didn't want you 'specting I knew anything. As soon as I dropped you off here, I went straight to Allega. A real devil of a time I had seeking an audience with Rowvan. All numbskulls, to be sure.

"Forgive my saying so, your majesty, but it was a downright foolhardy thing you did not going directly to Allega."

Skylar bowed his head.

"I'm sure Krom agrees with you."

"You did what you believed was right, Skylar," said Krom. "No one can fault you for that."

Looking up, Skylar caught Krom's gaze. In it he detected a hint of respect—something he rarely sensed from Krom. With a slight turn, Krom broke off the gaze and addressed the doctor.

"Is the prince well enough to leave his bed?"

"As well as anyone newly missing his right leg can be."

"What!" cried Skylar, jerking away his bedcover to see his leg. He sighed and leaned back in his bed. Still intact.

A high-pitched chuckle escaped Dr. Beezin.

"Gets them every time..."

Skylar shook his head and felt foolish at being tricked again by the same prank.

"No," went on the doctor after he'd had his laugh, "he's well enough. A few scrapes and cuts, one nasty bruise on his side—physically, that's all. More fortunate than many, he is."

"Thank you, Doctor," replied Krom. "Skylar, we must go to your father. He desires to speak with you. I can help you walk if you need."

"My father?" said Skylar in reply. "Is he hurt? Where is he?"