Freedom: A Futuristic Fantasy Read online

  “What sorts of adventures do you have?”

  “Well… okay, how about this—we are flying one hundred meters above the ground in my airship and going to an island in the sea. That sounds a lot like an adventure to me,” he said.

  She nodded. “The way you say it, it does.”

  “Everything is an adventure, if you know how to look at it.”

  They were silent for a while, and Jazeen once again noticed the sound of the propellers, which she had tuned out while they were talking. “Your ship is surprisingly quiet,” she said as she scanned the gauges.

  “It is, thanks to one of my modifications. It used to be powered by a diesel internal combustion engine. Noisy, smelly thing it was, too. I installed a nuclear thermopile generator doohickey and two electric motor thingies. Besides being quieter, it’s much faster than before.”

  “Is that important?” she asked.

  “It is when someone is chasing me,” he said with a smile.

  “Why would anyone chase you?” she asked.

  After a pause, he said, “Nothing to be concerned about. Well, unless they start chasing us. Then it’s a concern.”

  “Life’s an adventure,” she said.

  He nodded. Looking at his watch, he said, “If you’ll let me take over, you might want to step outside and go up to the bow railing. I think you might be able to see the South Sea soon.”

  She stepped aside, and Angus climbed up and took the wheel. “Off you go, now. Don’t fall overboard. My ship is fast, but it won’t catch you before you splat on the ground.”

  Jazeen ran through the door and up to the front. Behind her, the lights in the cabin dimmed. She guessed Angus had done that for her benefit. As her eyes adjusted, she could just make out small rolling hills that moved across the surface in the distance. The waxing crescent moon gave little light, and she hoped it would be enough to see the sand, the dunes, and the crashing waves her teacher had described. She was really going to see the South Sea! She realized her knuckles hurt because she was grasping the railing so tightly. Easing her grip, she stared ahead, trying to will the ship to go faster.

  A few moments later, Angus came and stood beside her. “What do you think?” he asked.

  “I wish it were a full moon tonight. Then I could see much better. I’m afraid I’ll barely see the beach when we fly over it.”

  Angus sighed. “Did you not see more stars tonight than ever before?”

  “Well, yes.”

  “And was it not a sight that delighted and excited you?”

  “Yes, of course,” she said.

  “And how many stars would you have seen had it been a full moon?” he asked.

  “Okay, I get your point.”

  He patted her hand. “Enjoy what you have instead of wishing for what you have not. Tomorrow, you’ll have a grand view of the sea from my island, and our return trip will be much earlier, so you’ll see the beach in broad daylight.”

  “You’ve been very kind to me. Am I really going to be your pilot on future adventures?”

  “Only if you wish it,” he said.

  “Did you mean it when you said we could pick up Terrin on our next trip?” she asked.

  “It may not be on our next trip, but I think we can manage to collect your friend for an adventure soon.” He pulled the remote from his pocket and tweaked a control. “Just a small course correction. Wind’s picking up.”

  “How can you tell?” she asked.

  “I can feel it,” he said. “You enjoy the view. I’m going back to the helm. We have another hour or so before we reach my island.”

  Jazeen watched the waves for a while, and then turned her attention to the stars. They were the most beautiful things she had ever seen. Then, looking down, she realized they were approaching the shore. Even in the dim light, she could see the foaming water crashing against the sand. It was beautiful.

  Jazeen lost all sense of time as she watched the rolling sea below, felt the wind on her face, and smelled the salty tang of the air.

  “I can see my island now,” Angus said.

  Jazeen started. She hadn't heard him approach. Looking ahead into the gloom, she said, “I don’t see it.”

  Angus pointed. “There, that darker patch in the sea. That’s my home. I better get back to the wheel.”

  Jazeen leaned on the railing again and peered into the darkness. As the minutes passed, the shadow grew larger, and she could see that it was, in fact, an island. Trees covered it, and she wondered how they would land. The ship was sinking now, dropping to just above the waves. The ship turned sharply and was now heading directly for the tree-covered slope. Fearing Angus could not see in the dark, she rushed to the door.

  “Angus, the trees! We’re gonna crash,” she yelled.

  “Life’s an adventure, Jaz.”

  Chapter 2

  “Emmett, where are you? Get in here at once!”

  Emmett cringed. “Here we go again,” he muttered. He jogged along the hallway leading to Venefica’s bedroom.

  “What took you so long? Get over here,” she yelled.

  “Yes, mistress,” he said meekly, stepping into the room.

  “Should I wear the red or the green dress today?” Venefica asked sweetly. Wearing only a sheer nightgown that left nothing to the imagination, she stood with her arms spread wide, each hand holding a lacy black dress on a hanger. Having done his mistress’ laundry for a decade, Emmett knew they were identical. He looked speculatively from one to the other, being careful not to let his eyes dwell upon anything else… not for too long, anyway.

  “I’ve always thought you looked especially fetching in green, mistress,” he said, nodding to one of the dresses.

  “That’s the red one, you fool,” she snapped.

  “Yes, mistress, I meant red, of course.”

  She looked at the dress, and then opened her other hand, letting the “green” dress fall to the floor.

  “Pick that up and put it away,” she said.

  “Yes, mistress,” he said, rushing over to pick up the discarded dress. After carefully straightening it on its hanger, he crossed to the closet and hung it alongside her dozens of long, black dresses. The hinge squeaked as he closed the door.

  The witch spun around, glaring at him. “What are you doing in my bedroom?” she screamed. “How dare you! Get out this instant!”

  “Yes, mistress. Sorry, mistress,” he said. He backed into the hall, bowing as he went. “It won’t happen again.” Then, as he turned and headed away, he said to himself, “Until tomorrow morning, at least.” Reaching the kitchen, he went to work preparing his mistress’ breakfast.

  He was just setting a tray on the table when she came sweeping down the hall, her black dress billowing behind her.

  “You are right, Emmett. I do look spectacular in red,” she said. Seeing the table, she shrieked, “Red flowers? You know I hate red flowers on the table at breakfast, you useless troll! Take them away and get me yellow flowers at once.”

  “Yes, mistress. I’m sorry, mistress.” He grabbed the vase of lavender flowers and rushed into the kitchen. Counting to ten, he turned walked back to the table, and set the vase in the center.

  “They are lovely! So much better,” she said.

  Emmett nodded and stepped back, waiting patiently as the witch began eating. He was silently counting down… three… two… one.

  “I specifically told you I want orange juice for breakfast,” she said. “What is this green stuff doing in my glass?”

  “Sorry, mistress.” He picked up the glass of orange juice and retreated to the kitchen. After a count of ten, he returned and set the glass on the table.

  Venefica picked it up and took a sip. “Ah, that’s much better. Don’t ever put that green… whatever it was, on my table again!”

  “Yes, mistress,” he said with a sigh. Stepping away, he closed his eyes and waited as she finished her meal. At least the morning color games were over now. He would cherish the hours before servin
g lunch.

  A short time later, he heard her push back her chair. The air stirred as she walked swiftly out of the room. He relaxed and opened his eyes. Dutifully, he cleared the table before preparing bowls of food for the prisoners.

  Later, Emmett knocked softly on Venefica’s open bedroom door.

  Looking up from a book, she glared. “Why are you disturbing me, Emmett?”

  “Begging your pardon, mistress, Captain Venandi has arrived. I’ve shown him to your office,” he said.

  Venefica smiled. “Perhaps, this time, Venandi has good news for a change. You may go.”

  “Yes, mistress,” Emmett said with a bow before hurrying away.

  * * * *

  Venandi stared out the window at the bleak landscape beyond. He was tall and muscular, dressed in brown leather and green cloth. His wavy black hair was slightly oily. A scar on his left cheek was barely visible under three days of stubble. His brown eyes were deeply set under two thick eyebrows that nearly met in the center.

  He hated the witch, but a summons from her could not be ignored… not unless he wanted to spend the rest of his life running and hiding from her and her hired bounty hunters. He was a bounty hunter himself, and he didn’t want to live life on the wrong side of that equation. He deeply regretted accepting this job. Oh, it would pay handsomely if he succeeded, but if he failed…

  “Venandi, how good of you to come,” Venefica said sweetly as she swept into the room.

  He suppressed a shudder at the sound of her voice and turned around. “My lady,” he said with a bow. “I came as soon as I received your summons.”

  The witch sat behind her desk and studied him. Finally, she asked, “Have you found him?”

  The bounty hunter hesitated. “No, my lady. However, I am making progress. I have some promising leads that I am pursuing vigorously.”

  “I’ve been very patient with you, Venandi. I’m paying you to find him, not to make excuses. Find Angus Beaph! I want the cumulus, do you understand?”

  “Yes, my lady,” he said. “I’ll find him, I assure you. It is, you will admit, a daunting task. His abilities—”

  “Bring me Angus Beaph and the cumulus,” she yelled.

  Venandi winced. “Yes, my lady.”

  “If he won’t tell you where the cumulus is, then bring Beaph to me. I’ll make him tell me,” she said.

  “Yes, my lady,” Venandi repeated.

  “I think it would be instructive for me to show you what will happen should you fail me.” Standing and walking to the door, she bellowed, “Emmett, come at once!”

  A moment later, Emmett hurried down the hallway and stood before her.

  “Emmett, I’d like for you to take our guest upstairs to the Chamber of Doors. Light all the lamps and wait for me. And Emmett… hold your tongue.”

  “Yes, mistress,” Emmett said. Turning to Venandi, he said, “If you would, sir, please follow me.”

  Venandi followed Emmett through a door and up a spiral staircase of cut stone. As they climbed, Emmett paused to lift a burning torch from a wall sconce and then continued upward. The stairs ended half a turn later in a dark space. The light of the torch prevented the bounty hunter from seeing anything outside their small circle of light.

  “Wait here, sir,” Emmett said as he walked away.

  As Emmett carried the torch into the darkness, Venandi’s eyes adjusted and he could make out a few doors as Emmett reached a wall. He watched as the man walked around the room lighting torches. The room was large and round, the wall set with many doors. The doors were painted pale gray and bore no distinguishing markings as far as he could tell. Eventually, Emmett completed his circuit of the room and returned to the stairwell.

  “What is this place?” Venandi asked.

  “I am not at liberty to tell you anything, sir,” Emmett said.

  “Why are we here?” Venandi asked.

  “We are waiting for my mistress to join us, sir,” Emmett said.

  * * * *

  Venefica, having rushed to her bedroom to change her boots, now descended the carved stone steps. The steel pads on the soles of her boots clacked against the stone, echoing throughout her dungeon. She had had these boots specially made just for visiting her “guests” so they would hear her coming. She like to see a well-developed look of fear on their faces, rather than surprise.

  Normally, upon reaching the dungeon, she played one of her mind games with her prisoners to prolong their fear. This time, however, she had no desire to. Walking straight to a cell, she opened the door. “Come with me, Dolore,” she said.

  Dolore stood and stepped out of the cell. Venefica was impressed. Normally, such a command resulted in the prisoner cowering in the corner. Venefica turned and headed quickly up the stairs with Dolore following close behind.

  Reaching the top, she found Emmett and Venandi waiting, the room brightly lit.

  “Now, Venandi, I want you to pay close attention,” the witch said. Turning to the young woman, she continued, “Dolore, today is your lucky day! There are thirty doors. One leads to freedom. The other twenty-nine lead to an ugly death. Choose one and pass through. Fail to choose, and agonizing death will be the penalty.”

  Dolore looked at Venandi, and then at Emmett. Turning, she rushed to the far wall. Venandi watched as she passed around the room, examining each door. With a trembling hand, she opened one and stepped through. The door closed, and the sound of the woman’s footsteps faded away. A shrill scream of terror came from beyond, quickly replaced by screams of agony. Venefica laughed as Venandi closed his eyes and put his hands over his ears. The screaming stopped, cut off by a loud crunch that might have been breaking bones. Venefica laughed maniacally as the bounty hunter ran past her and down the steps.

  “Emmett, do go and see Venandi to the door,” the witch said.

  “Yes, mistress,” he said before he rushed after the man.

  Venefica waved a hand, and all the torches went out. Turning, she headed down the stairs.

  * * * *

  “Ahoy, Venandi,” boomed a voice from above.

  Venandi paused, looking at the hose leading up to a port on the side of the hull. Farther up, he saw the smiling face of Dolus, his first mate. Pulling his phone from his jacket pocket, he looked at the time display. Shaking his head, he climbed the gangplank.

  “You were supposed to have the ship ready to go. Why are we still fueling?” he asked.

  Dolus waved his hands. “There were three ships ahead of us.”

  “Why didn’t you—”

  “Bribe the port master? I tried, sir. She refused. She said if I tried to bribe her again, we’d better be able to make our own fuel out of piss. But don’t you worry, sir, we’re nearly full. We’ll be underway shortly.”

  “I want to get out of here before that witch summons me again,” the bounty hunter said, “Have you taken on food and water?”

  “Yes, of course. I saw to it right away, like you said. As soon as our tank is full, we’ll depart. Everything is set, sir,” Dolus said.

  Venandi looked around the deck. Nothing seemed out of place. He grunted as he turned and entered the wheelhouse. Dolus heard him stomp down the steps. Stepping inside, Dolus looked at the fuel gauge, and then went out to the railing and gave a loud whistle. The boy running the fuel pump whistled in response and turned off the pump. He ran over, climbed his ladder, and pulled the fuel nozzle out of the port. Carrying it down, he laid it carefully on the dock. Darting back up, he screwed the cap on tight and closed the hatch. Looking up, he gave a thumbs-up to Dolus, who was watching from above. Down the ladder he slid. He swung it away from the ship, and then hung it on two hooks above the fuel pump. He began turning a crank that wound the fuel hose onto its reel. Dolus waved and then ducked back into the wheelhouse.

  “We’re ready, Captain,” he yelled down the steps. Dashing to the helm, he stood, awaiting orders.

  Captain Venandi came up the steps and strode to the forward window.

  “Perm
ission to start the engine, sir?” Dolus asked.

  “Granted,” Venandi replied.

  The ship shuddered slightly as the starter motor grunted and the big diesel engine began to turn, picking up speed. With a horrendous clattering, the engine fired, belching a thick black cloud from the exhaust pipe. Dolus adjusted the throttle, settling the engine to a throbbing idle.

  Venandi exited the wheelhouse and walked to the bow railing. He gave a salute to the port master in her tower. She saluted back, and the captain turned and went back to the wheelhouse.

  “We have permission to depart. Cast off the lines,” he said.

  “Yes, sir,” Dolus replied. He stepped to the door and gave another loud whistle. A few moments later, a whistle rose from the dock. Returning to the helm, he pushed a button, and several electric motors whirred, driving the spools that retracted the mooring ropes. A light came on, indicating that all lines were retracted. “Lines secure, Captain.”

  “Let’s go, Dolus. Get us the hell out of here.”

  Dolus gently moved a lever engaging the clutch, and the propellers jerked and began spinning. When he pushed the throttle, the engine picked up speed. He moved a lever that controlled the pitch of the starboard propeller and the ship began to move forward, turning gently to port as it went. When they were clear of the other airships, he set the pitch on the port propeller, and the ship accelerated straight ahead.

  “Let’s have a few more turns on the engine and then add a bit more pitch to the props,” Venandi said. “I want some speed.”

  Dolus pushed the throttle and pitch controls forward, and the engine roared and the ship lurched forward.

  “That’s it, sir. Two thousand revs and maximum pitch,” Dolus said.

  “Bring us to port to heading two-ninety,” the captain said.

  “Yes, sir. Two-ninety.” Dolus turned the wheel, and the ship came about. “But, er, why two-ninety, sir?” he asked.

  Venandi turned to face him. “We’re going to Scallia.”

  “But… that’s across the Great Ocean,” Dolus said.

  Venandi turned back toward the front window. “Indeed it is. I’ve had a report from two captains who each saw a ship there that might be Beaph’s. We’re going to search Scallia for him.”