Alcatraz Versus the Knights of Crystallia

“Course I am, lad, of course I am.” Grandpa Smedry smiled through a sodden mustache. I’d seen him this tired only once before, just after our battle with Blackburn.

“Thanks for saving me,” I said, sitting down next to him.

“Just returning the favor,” Grandpa Smedry said with a wink. “I believe you saved me back in that library infiltration.”

That had mostly been a matter of luck. I glanced at Hawkwind, where our companions were still trying to find a way down. “I wish I could use my Talent like you use yours.”

“What? Alcatraz, you’re very good with your Talent. I saw you shatter that glass you were stuck to. I’d never have gotten a line of sight on you in time if you hadn’t done that! Your quick thinking saved your life.”

“I tried to do more,” I said. “But it didn’t work.”

“More?”

I blushed. It now seemed silly. “I figured … well, I thought if I could break gravity, then I could fly.”

Grandpa Smedry chuckled quietly. “Break gravity, eh? Very bold of you, very bold. A very Smedry-like attempt! But a bit beyond the scope of even your power, I’d say. Imagine the chaos if gravity stopped working across the entire world!”

I don’t have to imagine it. I’ve lived it. But then, we’ll get to that. Eventually.

There was a scrambling sound, and a figure finally managed to leap from the broken side of Hawkwind and land on the tower top. Draulin, Bastille’s mother, was an austere woman in silvery armor. A full Knight of Crystallia—a title Bastille had recently lost—Draulin was very effective at the things she did. Those included: protecting Smedrys, being displeased by things, and making the rest of us feel like slackers.

Once on the ground, she was able to assist the vehicle’s other two occupants. Australia Smedry, my cousin, was a plump, sixteen-year-old Mokian girl. She wore a colorful, single-piece dress that looked something like a sheet and—like her brother—had tan skin and dark hair. (Mokians are relatives of the Hushlands’ Polynesian people.) As she hit the floor, she rushed over to Grandpa Smedry and me.

“Oh, Alcatraz!” she said. “Are you all right? I didn’t see you fall; I was too busy with the explosion. Did you see it?”

“Um, yes, Australia,” I said. “It kind of blew me off Hawkwind.”

“Oh, right,” she said, bouncing slightly up and down on her heels. “If Bastille hadn’t been watching, we’d never have seen where you hit! It didn’t hurt too much when I dropped you on the top of the tower here, did it? I had to scoop you up in Hawkwind’s leg and set you down here so I could land. It’s missing a leg now. I don’t know if you noticed.”

“Yeah,” I said tiredly. “Explosion, remember?”

“Of course I remember, silly!”

That’s Australia. She’s not dim-witted; she just has trouble remembering to be smart.

The last person off Hawkwind was my father, Attica Smedry. He was a tall man with messy hair, and he wore a pair of red-tinted Oculator’s Lenses. Somehow, on him they didn’t look pinkish and silly like I always felt they did on me.

He walked over to Grandpa Smedry and me. “Ah well,” he said. “Everyone’s all right, I see. That’s great.”

We watched each other awkwardly for a moment. My father didn’t seem to know what else to say, as if made uncomfortable by the need to act parental. He seemed relieved when Bastille charged back up the steps, a veritable fleet of servants following behind, wearing the tunics and trousers that were standard Free Kingdomer garb.

“Ah,” my father said. “Excellent! I’m sure the servants will know what to do. Glad you’re not hurt, son.” He walked quickly toward the stairwell.

“Lord Attica!” one of the servants said. “It’s been so long.”

“Yes, well, I have returned,” my father replied. “I shall require my rooms made up immediately and a bath drawn. Inform the Council of Kings that I will soon be addressing them in regards to a very important matter. Also, let the newspapers know that I’m available for interviews.” He hesitated. “Oh, and see to my son. He will need, er, clothing and things like that.”

He disappeared down the steps, a pack of servants following him like puppies. “Wait a sec,” I said, standing and turning to Australia. “Why are they so quick to obey?”

“They’re his servants, silly. That’s what they do.”

“His servants?” I asked, stepping over to the side of the tower to get a better look at the building below. “Where are we?”

“Keep Smedry, of course,” Australia said. “Um … where else would we be?”

I looked out over the city, realizing that we had landed Hawkwind on one of the towers of the stout black castle I’d seen earlier. Keep Smedry. “We have our own castle?” I asked with shock, turning to my grandfather.

A few minutes of rest had done him some good, and the twinkle was back in his eyes as he stood up, dusting off his soggy tuxedo. “Of course we do, lad! We’re Smedrys!”

Smedrys. I still didn’t really understand what that meant. For your information, it meant … well, I’ll explain it in the next chapter. I’m feeling too lazy right now.