Haladras Read online

  Lasseter wore the cloak even now, as he waited for Skylar to reply. His piercing green eyes were fixed intently on Skylar. They were the same eyes Skylar had.

  “It was very...interesting,” replied Skylar, stealing Rolander's observation.

  “Indeed,” said his uncle. “Yes, some might call Arturo’s report interesting. I would not.”

  “How is that, Uncle? Were you there?”

  “No,” he replied, and went on without giving any explanation. “These insects of which Arturo informed the Council…,” he paused, the expression on his face becoming even graver. “You must stay away from them.”

  “But they aren't on Haladras.”

  “They will be,” he said, as he abruptly stood and pulled the hood over his face.

  “How do you...do you know what they are?”

  Lasseter had already turned and was making his way for the portal. He paused briefly and said over his shoulder, “They are dangerous. That is all you need to know.” Then he slipped out into the darkness.

  Skylar sat staring at the portal, baffled.

  “Well, that was odd—even for Uncle Lasseter,” said Skylar to his mother, who he hoped would offer some sort of explanation. “What makes him so certain that they’ll appear on Haladras? Does he know what they are?”

  “I don’t know, Sky,” she said, sighing in exhaustion. “But I think you should listen to your uncle. If you see them, do whatever it takes to stay away from them.”

  Skylar decided not to mention what Rolander had said about the insects actually being machines.

  The next day Skylar returned to the Academy. It had taken some persuasion to convince his mother that he was well enough to make the walk across the Gorge by himself. She had only reluctantly agreed after he told her that he couldn’t afford to get behind in astrophysics. Which was not entirely untrue. Though, he doubted an extra day or two would put him too far behind. The truth was, he wanted to go. He hated to be home all day with nothing to do.

  When he arrived at school that morning, he quickly discovered that news about his accident at the docks had spread through the entire Academy. Classmates he had never talked to before, both senior and junior, swarmed around him like vultures to a carcass. Questions shot at him from all sides. Dizzied by the swirl of interrogation, he mumbled out a few unsatisfactory answers and tried to push free of the crowd, toward his lecture hall.

  “That’s enough! Off to class, now,” cried a shrill voice that no one at the Academy could mistake. “Break up this mob. All of you...off.”

  It was Professor Meese, the headmistress.

  The crowd dispersed as quickly as it had assembled. No one wished to be singled out by the strict disciplinarian.

  Skylar, too, had no wish to be loitering in the hall. He turned to retreat with his fellow classmates. But that same voice halted him in mid-stride.

  “Mr. Lancewright?” she said commandingly. “Mr. Skylar Lancewright.”

  Skylar turned around to face her.

  “Come with me,” she said, turning on her heel and striding briskly toward her office. Skylar swallowed and tried to keep up as best he could.

  The headmistress brought him to her office and closed the door behind him.

  “Have a seat, Mr. Lancewright.”

  Skylar sat down in a solitary chair in front of her large stone desk. The headmistress walked around behind the desk and sat down. Skylar had never been so close to this woman before, never had taken notice of her outward appearance. She was a tall woman, thin as a desert reed. She wore her pale hair pulled back tightly in a bun which gave her long narrow face, sunken cheeks and pointed nose full prominence. Her clothes were simple and unflattering, but impeccable, without crease or wrinkle.

  “Skylar,” she said, sitting perfectly erect in her chair, hands clasped and resting on her desk. “I have heard about your accident at the harbor.”

  Skylar flushed slightly. Had anyone not heard?

  “I wanted to make sure that you feel well enough to return to your classes. You needn’t feel pressure to resume your studies before you have completely convalesced. I am confident I can arrange an appropriate level of makeup work from your professors—nothing overwhelming.”

  For a moment Skylar didn’t know how to respond. Was this the same headmistress everyone avoided at all cost?

  “Thank you, Professor,” he finally stammered out, “but I’m really feeling much better. Besides, I’d rather be here than sitting at home.”

  The hard line that formed the headmistress’s mouth twitched slightly at the corners and she sat taller in her chair.

  “Well!” She said with unmasked delight, “I certainly cannot argue with such an answer. I’m sure, then, you’re eager to get to your classes. I shall detain you no longer. But, please, let me know if there’s anything I can do for you.”

  He thanked her, then hurriedly left her office, eager to be free of that uncomfortable situation.

  When Skylar stepped in his lecture hall, he found that Professor Valenkr had not yet begun his pedantic drone about Applied Geophysical Computation. Most of the class was seated, already. He hurried to find a free seat among the gossiping huddles of students, who all seemed to halt their various conversations to stare at him as he passed by. He found his usual seat next to Rolander empty and sat down, exhaling audibly. The freckle-faced boy beamed at him.

  “Hey, Skylar!” said Rolander enthusiastically. “Feeling better?”

  Skylar nodded, a bit tired of everyone asking him how he felt.

  “So, does everyone know about the accident?” Skylar whispered quietly.

  “There might be a few oblivious simpletons out there. Outside of those though...”

  Rolander smiled apologetically.

  Skylar shook his head. “Even Professor Meese knows. She pulled me into her office to talk about it.”

  “She did? What did she—”

  “Hey, Skylar!” shouted a voice that made Rolander halt his speech. “I heard you helped save the docks when Captain Arturo’s ship got caught on a tow cable.”

  “Helped!” retorted a sneering voice that made Skylar's teeth clench. He knew that voice only too well. Drake Blacksands. The most pestering, contradictory and meddlesome person Skylar had ever met.

  Skylar quickly turned toward the front of the lecture hall, hoping to see Professor Valenkr. His heart sank. The wordy, monotone professor was still absent from the hall. Of all the days for him to be late...

  Ordinarily Professor Valenkr began his lectures promptly on schedule, being eager to drown his pupils in the deluge of his vast knowledge.

  “Helped?” repeated Drake, as if the word were vulgar. “He didn’t help. He was the reason the deck was almost destroyed.” Drake looked at Skylar with his round face and gave him one of his notoriously annoying smiles. “Not only that,” he went on, “but he lost his balance while flying his jetwing and fell like an idiot onto the deck. He almost killed himself.”

  The entire class erupted with laughter. Skylar began to feel as if he’d made a bad decision in coming to school so soon. Yet he couldn’t just sit there and let Drake make a fool out of him. He felt himself growing hotter with anger every second.

  “It wasn’t my fault the dock was nearly destroyed,” Skylar blurted out.

  “Oh really? You were operating the winch with the cable that didn’t release, weren’t you?”

  “Yes, but it got stuck.”

  “Stuck!” Drake gasped in mock astonishment. “That must have been scary for you, Skylar. Except that those winches don’t get stuck. It’s impossible. Everyone knows that. Although, maybe for an inept dockhand like you it might seem stuck.”

  “It was stuck! I—”

  “Settle down, settle down” interrupted the flat voice of Professor Valenkr, who was just walking into the lecture hall. Skylar and Drake both abandoned the argument. Sitting back in his chair, Skylar took several deep, forceful breaths. If only Drake Blacksands wasn’t two hundred pounds and near
ly a head taller than him...if only. Not that he would ever really start a brawl with anyone. That wasn’t Skylar’s way. But if there was anyone on the planet of Haladras he would like to grind into the sandstone, Drake Blacksands was that person.

  Professor Valenkr’s lecture seemed to drag on longer than usual. Perhaps because Skylar’s thoughts were focused on a particular over-sized classmate. Finally the lecture ended. Skylar had heard nothing of it.

  He got up and moved as quickly as his bruised muscles would allow toward the exit, hoping to avoid any further confrontation with Drake. Suddenly, he had an idea, and made his way straight toward Professor Valenkr, instead. The professor was still collecting his books and parchments when Skylar approached.

  “Professor Valenkr?” said Skylar tentatively.

  The professor looked up with a startled expression on his face.

  “Did you say something, my boy?” he asked, his monotone voice sounding higher than normal.

  “Yes, Professor. I was wondering if you could explain that last point of your lecture to Drake. I don’t think he quite followed it. He’s a bit shy, you know?”

  “What’s that? Drake. Which one’s Drake?” He looked up toward the rest of the hall and squinted his eyes.

  “The large one, Professor.”

  “Ah, yes, that one. I’m not surprised. Very well,” he said as waddled off to intercept Drake.

  It wasn’t really a lie, Skylar told himself. He had no doubt Drake hadn’t understood a word of Professor Valenkr’s lecture.

  The few remaining hours of classes passed uneventfully. He succeeded in avoiding Drake, who was doubtless irate over Skylar’s prank, and mostly the other classmates stopped talking about what happened at the docks.

  By the end of his classes, he felt tired and achy as he walked back to the Gorge. He was walking as quickly as he could, hoping Drake wouldn't decide to come looking for him. In his condition, and without his jetwing, he felt vulnerable. He glanced back a couple of times, expecting at any moment to see Drake’s massive form lumbering after him.

  He hadn’t gone far when he heard a voice call his name. His heart stuttered in his chest. The voice didn’t belong to Drake, though. It sounded too delicate, too feminine. Turning around hesitantly, he saw the last person on Haladras he expected to call his name. Kendyl Windlem.

  Smiling radiantly, she hurried over to him. Skylar froze where he stood, unable to move or speak. Had she—the prettiest girl on Haladras—really called his name? He had never spoken to her before, never dared to. Her beauty somehow made her seem unapproachable—forbidden even. But there she was, the crush of his life, jogging lithely toward him, smiling.

  ”Hi,” she said in a voice that turned his legs to mush.

  Skylar stammered out some reply that made him sound like he could talk.

  “I know we’ve never met before...my name’s Kendyl.”

  Skylar only smiled dumbly. She tucked a long strand of her flaming hair behind one ear and bit her lower lip.

  “Um…I just wanted to tell you,” she went on, “that I don’t believe what Drake said in class today. From what I heard, you saved the dock and probably several lives, too. My brother told me it was the most daring maneuver he ever saw.”

  “Your brother?” said Skylar, having regained some control over his tongue. “Does he work at the harbor?”

  “Yes. My older brother—Kael. Do you know him?”

  Skylar shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.”

  “It doesn’t matter really. I just thought you should know not everyone thinks like Drake.”

  “Thanks,” replied Skylar. “I wish Rasbus felt the same way.”

  Kendyl nodded her head sympathetically. “Yes, my brother told me about that, too. ‘Raging mad’ was how he described him. Rasbus won’t terminate your apprenticeship, will he?”

  Skylar shrugged. “I don’t know. He put me on mandatory sick leave for two weeks. After that he said we’d talk.”

  “Well, I hope he lets you back. It would only be his loss if he doesn’t.”

  There was a few seconds pause, in which Skylar didn’t know what more to say. He didn’t have to.

  “Could I walk with you?” she asked timidly. “I’m not expected at my apprenticeship for another hour.”

  At that moment, he could have died from sheer joy.

  Their walk to the Gorge passed all too quickly. He had managed to relax a little more, and soon they were chatting and laughing like best friends. And then they were at his cave, and Kendyl said goodbye.

  Skylar stepped into the cave, his mind floating on a cloud of thoughts filled with Kendyl. He was so distracted that he didn’t even notice the dark figure sitting in the corner.

  FIVE

  STILL UNDER KENDYL’S spell, Skylar went to his bed chamber. He removed his satchel and threw it along with himself onto his bed. He fumbled through the satchel, drew out a physics book and vainly attempted to study it.

  “You should learn to be more cautious,” said a deep voice from behind. Skylar jerked his head around. A figure in an old gray cloak stood facing him, his face hidden within the hood.

  “Uncle!” Skylar exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

  Lasseter pulled back the hood, revealing his stern gaze. “I could have been anyone wearing a cloak. You didn’t even know I was here. What if—” he began, but then broke off. “You must to be more cautious.”

  Skylar furrowed his brow. “Cautious of what? Men in hooded cloaks?”

  His uncle ignored the question.

  “I need your help procuring some supplies. Can you spare me some of your time this afternoon?”

  “Anything to get out of studying,” said Skylar.

  “Don’t worry, you’ll have plenty of time to study later.”

  Despite his uncle’s bewildering admonition to be more cautious, there was nothing unusual about his request for help with the supplies. His uncle bought everything in bulk, so that his trips to the stores and depots near the Gorge would be as infrequent as possible. Skylar often went along to help load the myriad of boxes, bags, and crates into his uncle’s sand rover.

  “She was pretty,” his uncle said as he navigated the rover along the winding paths of the Gorge.

  Skylar looked at him with surprise. Had Lasseter seen him walking with Kendyl?

  “Who?” said Skylar, attempting to sound innocent.

  “Who?” echoed his uncle. “That little red-head who plastered that ridiculous smile on your face. I saw you two talking. Doubtless she was the reason for your inattentiveness when you entered the cave.”

  “Her name’s Kendyl,” said Skylar, fighting back the smile. “She’s just a friend,” he hastily added.

  “Well, congratulations on your new friend. Just see that she doesn’t distract you too much.”

  Distract me from what? wondered Skylar.

  They soon arrived at the mouth of the Gorge, where most of the commerce of Kaladra took place. On the surface, it looked much like the rest of the Gorge. Many of the shops’ proprietors operated their businesses from small caves. Some of the newer shops were in stand-alone buildings on the floor of the Gorge. These were constructed of mud bricks or sandstone.

  Skylar stepped out of the sand rover onto the hot sandstone floor of the Gorge and squinted in the blaring midafternoon sun toward the direction of the granary. His uncle was a man of order; he always stopped at the granary first for two bushels of wheat, one of legumes—whatever was in the storehouse. Next, he visited the fruiteria, where he would ask in vain for fresh fruit. The shopkeeper always responded the same: “Fresh fruit? That’s tough to come by, Lasseter. What small amount I get sells so quickly…you’ll be the first one I notify next time I get any.” It was a lie, of course. The shopkeeper had more important clientele he reserved it for. The usual boxes of dried fruits would have to suffice. Skylar had never tasted anything like what his uncle was hoping for. When or how his uncle had, he did not know.

  Next, Lloyd’
s Dried Meats for ten kilos of dried sausages and several blocks of cured cheese.

  Skylar knew the routine by heart.

  He was surprised, then, when his uncle started walking in the opposite direction on the granary.

  “This way,” his uncle called, “to the outfitter’s.”

  “The outfitters? What do you need from there?”

  “Clothes,” his uncle replied.

  They entered the small but tidy cave-shop and were quickly attended by its eager shopkeeper. The man was dressed as neatly as his shop and smiled amiably at the pair. Despite the smile, Skylar noted the appraising glance he gave his uncle. Skylar suddenly felt uncomfortable standing next to his uncle, so oddly garbed in his long cloak and hood.

  Why doesn’t he at least put his hood back? Skylar thought in agitation. Perhaps, then, people wouldn’t think him so strange.

  Despite his uncle’s appearance, the shopkeeper maintained his façade of cordiality.

  “How may I assist you two gentlemen?” he asked, bowing slightly.

  “I would like to purchase a cloak,” replied Skylar’s uncle.

  The shopkeeper’s smile vanished for an instant, but promptly returned accompanied by, “Why, yes! Yes of course. Nothing like a new cloak to keep one protected from those harsh Haladrian sand storms. I’ve never been caught in one myself, but I’ve heard stories… Anyway, I’m afraid we don’t keep cloaks in stock. However, I can have one tailored for you. Shall I fetch my measuring tape?”

  The shopkeeper was halfway to the back of his shop before Lasseter had a chance to respond. And Skylar doubted if the shopkeeper would have listened had his uncle declined. Within a quarter of a minute the shopkeeper was buzzing around Skylar’s uncle, taking measurements in rapid succession.

  “Will you be wanting this cloak in lightweight millim cloth?” the shopkeeper asked as he continued taking notes and measurements. “It’s very comfortable—even in our hottest weather.