The Last Mayor's Son Read online

  Ahren fumed as she listened to her father’s response. She wiped at the traitorous tears streaming down her face again. He couldn’t seriously mean to invite total strangers into their home, could he? But he was adamant. She struggled to find an angle to argue, but he had covered all her objections already.

  After a long, tense pause, Ahren finally answered, “Fine. I’ll help you welcome this stranger to our village—and our home—but please don’t expect me to be happy about it. I’m not convinced that any one of the young men, or even any of the old men, wouldn’t be a better mayor than some stranger from the city.”

  “All I’m asking is that you help us welcome him, and give him a chance. Try to be kind.” Valasa gestured to the door and followed his daughter out of his workroom and into the house.

  Ahren ran out the front door to meet her friends at the Pavilion, angrier than she had been in years. She could hardly wait to tell the others what was happening, and, she hoped, find some sympathy and support. She met the group of women at their regular spot under the farthest corner of the Pavilion. When she stepped out of the deep shadows cast by the massive branches overhead, Zifa stopped pacing mid-step and stared at Ahren’s flushed, tear-stained face.

  “What’s happened?” Zifa pulled a handkerchief from the pocket of her breeches and dabbed at Ahren’s wet cheeks.

  “My father…” She trailed off with a sob and turned her back to her friends. She leaned on the heavy rail lining the boardwalk and stared into the darkening forest. She needed to get control of herself. After a moment, she turned and stared into the concerned faces of her four closest friends. They’d all moved closer.

  Ahni placed a gentle hand on Ahren’s hunched shoulder. “Is he ill?”

  Ahren sighed and dropped onto the delicately carved bench behind her. “No, he’s quite well. He’s written to Eddrick’s son, who apparently escaped with a servant the night of the invasion.” She paused and took a deep breath. “This… this person is coming back to be our new mayor, and my father wants me to head the welcoming committee.”

  “What? But what about our own men?” Tamyr exclaimed. “We have plenty of men who could take on that role.”

  “I know, that’s what I said, too, but my father is sure this city boy is the perfect leader.” Ahni’s spritely face lit with a mischievous smile. “What if we find a way to chase him back to the city where he belongs? Then our own men could take the lead.”

  “Aren’t we getting ahead of ourselves?” Zifa asked with a frown. She sat next to Ahren on the bench and stretched an arm around her shoulders. “Your father is the wisest person I know. Why don’t we give Eddrick’s son a chance—see who he really is—before we start plotting against him?”

  “That sounds like a good plan,” Zyana agreed with a gentle smile. “You know I’d love to see Wayra as the mayor, or Alija or any of the others, but maybe there’s a good reason your father thinks this young man is the best choice.”

  Ahren sighed. She’d hoped for more support from her friends. She looked up and met Ahni’s eyes over Zifa’s dark hair.

  “We’ll talk later,” Ahni mouthed in silence, gesturing to include Tamyr in her plan.

  Ahren gave a tiny nod and pushed herself to her feet.

  “All right, we’ll wait and see. Now, we should get some practice in before it gets too late. Zifa, weren’t you going to show us how you jump through the trees?”

  They trained for a while, but Ahren had a hard time concentrating.

  What could Ahni be planning? How could they chase this visitor back to the city, where he belonged?

  She tried to leap to the next branch as all her friends had done but missed. She landed hard on the stack of cushions below, grateful for Zifa’s foresight. That fall would’ve hurt if she’d landed on the hard wooden boardwalk. Maybe she should pay more attention to the night’s practice. There was plenty of time to devise a plan before Eddrick’s son arrived.

  3

  Traveling

  “This will be great! They’re leaving today. Maybe soon I’ll be able to talk to my son.” Eddrick beamed, considering the possibilities.

  Kiri set her knitting aside and furrowed her brow. “Now, wait just a minute. You know the living can’t see you.”

  He waved her protest aside. “I do it all the time. I figured out that I can talk to certain people, but only if they’re paying attention. Most people don’t realize I’m there.”

  Kiri worried her lower lip with her teeth. “Who have you been talking to? I hope you’re not trying to change things down there again. I feel bad enough about interfering the one time.”

  “Valasa’s aware enough that we can communicate sometimes. I only answer the questions he asks, so I’m not breaking any rules,” Eddrick said. His smile stretched wider.

  “And exactly what questions does he ask?”

  “We’ve only talked a few times, and mostly he’s talked about what’s going on in Nivaka and how his family’s doing. I don’t think he realizes I’ve been able to see them all this time.” He wandered closer and sank down onto the chair beside her. “He did ask me about Aibek, and I told him how to contact Serik.”

  “Please be careful,” Kiri pleaded. “I’m not sure exactly what all the rules are, but I don’t think we’re supposed to talk to them.”

  “What would be the point of being able to see our friends if we weren’t allowed to talk to them? I’m only chatting with a religious leader, and nothing bad’s happened so far. I’m sure it’ll be fine,” he answered defensively

  “Just be careful. I don’t want you getting us into trouble again.” She squeezed into the chair with him and settled in to watch the rain fall over the forest.

  ~*~

  Aibek tossed the last of his belongings into the leather bag his aunt had bought for the journey and took a final look at his room. The newly-bare walls echoed his melancholy mood, the dull brown curtains his aunt had put up yesterday flapping in the morning breeze. He’d sold or given away all of his books and belongings. He had tucked everything he had left into the leather pack on the neatly made bunk. He didn’t know if he would ever return, either to this house or to the city where he had lived his entire life. Emotion squeezed his chest, robbing him of breath. He inhaled, relishing the scent of his aunt’s favorite potpourri, and ran his hands through his thick auburn hair. He needed to be strong for Ira and Noral. His aunt had been tearful all week, and Aibek had worried about her.

  He grabbed his pack and trudged out of his room for the last time. When he stepped into the hall, he almost collided with his uncle.

  “There you are! I was hoping you wouldn’t take too long. I have something for you.” Noral closed the door to the master bedroom and gestured for his nephew to follow him down the hall and out the front door.

  They walked the short distance to the blacksmith shop, and around to the small study in the back. Scraps of paper littered every surface in the cramped space, even the wooden chair that stood in front of the desk. Old bare-wood furniture filled the space, worn and dented from years of use. The dingy, gray walls were bare as well, except for one small iron frame that held a miniature painting of a much younger Ira.

  Memories flooded Aibek, and he stood frozen in the center of the room. He had played here as a boy when he wanted to be near his uncle before he was old enough to be allowed in the workshop.

  He remembered play-fighting in the small office with Faruz, using sticks for swords, jumping on and under the furniture, and causing such a ruckus his uncle sent them into the yard to play. Aibek smiled at the memories. He and Faruz had grown up together. Beginning this new chapter of his life alone would be strange. Of course, Serik was coming, but the old man only spoke when it was necessary.

  “Ah, here it is.” Noral’s brusque voice startled the younger man out of his reverie.

  His uncle had just come through the door that led to the workshop, holding a long, narrow sword, sheathed in a dark leather scabbard with a matching belt that would tie ar
ound the waist of the wearer.

  “I’ve been holding onto this for some time; I was planning to give it to you when you graduated the academy. This sword belonged to my father and has been handed down through our family for many years.” Noral spoke softly, unsheathing the weapon and holding it out across his open palms for his nephew. “I’ve kept it oiled for strength and reinforced the handle.”

  Aibek took the sword from his mentor and turned it over in his hands. His eyes widened as he felt the weight of the weapon in his grasp. It was finely wrought steel, with intricately carved vines and branches intertwining to form the elaborate guard and basket hilt. The blade was light but strong and sharp. It gleamed in the early morning light and he had no doubt it would be his most prized possession from that day on.

  “Thank you,” Aibek answered before he sheathed the weapon and tied it around his waist. “It’s the most beautiful sword I’ve ever seen.”

  Noral caught him in a strong hug, holding tightly for just a moment. He released his nephew, and they walked back to the house together, knowing daylight was burning and the travelers would need to begin their journey soon.

  “I know I’ve been hard on you,” Noral said as he walked, “but I knew you’d have to return to the forest one day. You won’t be fighting for trophies and medals now, but for your very life.”

  Aibek nodded, but couldn’t think of anything to say to that. They finished the short trip home in silence.

  When they reached the house, Aibek bent down and wrapped his arms around Ira. She looked so small and frail all of a sudden. He kissed her cheek and accepted her kiss in return. She hugged him in a viselike grip around his waist for a long time, and he wondered if she was going to let him go. Finally, he stepped back and kissed her soft, powdered cheek one more time.

  “Thank you so much for everything. I’ll write as soon as we get there and let you know I’m well. Maybe I’ll even be able to come visit someday.” Aibek grinned weakly at the only parents he had ever known, hugged his uncle once more and gestured to Serik.

  This wasn’t going to get any easier, and any delay now would only make it tougher on everyone. Aibek swallowed hard against the emotions that threatened to choke him and strode away next to his oldest friend. He was disappointed that Faruz hadn’t come to say goodbye, but there was no time to stop. They’d already delayed well past sunrise—the time they had planned to be on the road.

  Around them on the street, the city bustled in its usual way. Women hurried on various errands, some with small children in tow, others in groups chattered as they walked toward the shopping district. The stone sidewalks teemed with people, and the dusty, cobbled streets overflowed with oxen pulling carts filled with various wares for the market. Serik led the way to the South Road, which would take them to one of three gates where individuals could enter and exit the city walls.

  Aibek had never taken that particular road; he had only ever left the city through the West Gate to swim in the river with his friends. He would miss them all. His heart was heavy as he trudged toward the guards at the city gates, and he wondered again if he would ever return.

  The throngs of travelers and merchants slowed to a crawl as they approached the city’s exit. The stone wall sparkled in the morning sun, but Aibek barely noticed. He kept his eyes on the enormous iron gates that stood open, allowing travelers to exit on the left while arriving ones stopped on the right for inspection.

  I hope this doesn’t take long.

  They had planned to be beyond the gates before the second moon, Ilodus, dropped below the eastern horizon. Their exit had been so delayed that now Thrimanca, the third and slowest moon, was about to set. It was nearly mid-morning.

  While they waited with the crowd for their turn to exit, a commotion behind them caught the travelers’ attention. Someone was pushing toward them through the throngs of people, and those being shoved aside shouted their anger. Aibek would have continued his progress toward the gates, but he paused for a moment. It sounded as if someone was yelling his name.

  He turned again to scan the crowd and spotted Faruz, carrying a leather knapsack and making his way toward the gate. He wore his father’s broadsword on his back and his smaller Academy sword at his side. When he finally caught up, he grinned breathlessly at Aibek.

  “You didn’t really think you were going on this adventure without me, did you?” He paused a moment and braced his hands on his knees as he panted for breath. “I didn’t know you were setting off so early in the morning. I couldn’t believe it when I got to your house, and you’d already gone. I didn’t even have time for one of Ira’s famous muffins!”

  Aibek raised both hands. “What are you doing here? You can’t seriously mean to travel all the way to Nivaka with me. What about your family? School? The Army? Do your parents know you’re here? How will you ever get home?” He fired off questions without pausing for a response.

  Finally, Faruz threw his hands up, too. “Of course they know. They didn’t even try to talk me out of coming. But, really… I can’t let you travel off into the sunset—or sunrise as the case may be—without at least one friend to help you along. I’m coming with you. And if you won’t let me walk with you and Serik, then I’ll follow behind.”

  Faruz matched Serik’s pace as they passed the guards at the city gates and walked out into the open pasture area surrounding the city walls.

  Aibek grinned faintly at Faruz. “All right, you can come along. But you’ll have to carry your own weight on the journey. We’ve only brought the bare necessities with us, and we plan to hunt and fish for food along the way.”

  “Well then, you’ll be even happier that I decided to tag along. I brought some fresh cookies that Mother baked for us this morning, some venison jerky Father picked up at the market, and some fishing supplies for the rest of the journey, and of course my own necessities.”

  Faruz grinned at his companions, but Serik frowned and fidgeted. He looked to Aibek. “Have you considered what may happen when we arrive at Nivaka with an extra person, sir? Where will he stay once we arrive? What will he do while you’re preparing to take on the mayoralty?”

  Faruz answered quickly. “That’s easy. I’ll share a room with Aibek like we have hundreds of times… and if they won’t let me in, then I’ll sleep under the stars. Plus, I’ll be the perfect advisor for his Lordship, or whatever he’ll be called, because I have no emotional connection to the place.”

  Just as Serik opened his mouth to object again, Aibek interrupted. “You said your mother baked cookies this morning? Are they still warm?”

  ~*~

  They walked in silence for most of the day, through the plains and farms that surrounded and supplied the city. The excitement of the journey soon wore thin, as they walked forever without making any apparent progress. There were no trees or hills to break up the scenery, and late into the afternoon, Aibek could still see the shadow of Xona’s wall on the distant horizon. The only difference he could see in the landscape was a gradual change in the grass from brown to green. When the sky began to darken in the evening, they found a soft, dense patch of grass and set up camp. They caught three fish in the nearby stream and built a small cooking fire.

  As they settled in for dinner, Serik asked if they wanted to hear some of the village’s history. Both young men agreed they should know as much as possible about their destination.

  Serik began, his voice soft, “Many generations ago, the people of the village were embroiled in a bitter dispute over who had the right to occupy the Tsari Forest.”

  Serik’s companions leaned in closer to hear as he relayed what he knew of the origins of Nivaka.

  “The villagers had been living there for about a decade when a nomadic group of natives tried to force them to leave. After several bloody battles, the leaders of both groups came together and agreed to a truce: the Nivakans would build their village in the treetops, and the natives would live on the ground, in a village they named Kasanto.”

  As the
y laid out their bedrolls on the soft grass and prepared to sleep, Aibek wondered what this treetop village looked like. He imagined quaint little treehouses connected to each other by rope bridges.

  How can they cook? Surely they can’t make fires in the tree-homes. Perhaps they have a fire pit on the ground. What about those enemies Serik had mentioned? Are they still around to trouble the tree-dwelling villagers?

  Before he could ruminate further, the exhaustion of the day caught up with him, and he fell into a fitful sleep.

  ~*~

  In the days that followed, they fell into a comfortable routine as they traveled the dusty, well-packed road south. They walked in silence most of the day, then hunted small game or caught fish for dinner, and Serik talked over the fire as they ate. He related the histories of some of the more prominent families in Nivaka and gave them a partial account of what he knew about the night they had escaped to Xona. Whenever they were near a water source, they washed themselves and their clothes with the soap Ira had tucked into Aibek’s pack. He was glad she’d thought of something so practical; they would have arrived smelling like farm animals if she hadn’t.

  The first few days passed quickly, excitement spurring them on. The thrill didn’t last long, however, before the monotony of the treeless landscape began to wear on Aibek. Each day, his eyes searched the unchanging horizon for a house, a scrubby bush or some small landmark he could use to mark the passage of time and distance. His legs ached from the endless hours of walking, and each evening he yearned for the sight of the Zobe River ahead of them.

  After several days of traveling the wretched, never-ending plain, Aibek finally spotted trees ahead as they topped a small rise.

  “Yes! The river. We’re almost there,” Aibek shouted, dashing toward the wood.