Warlord and the Waif by Chloe Parker

CHAPTER TWO

ELLA

THIS PLACE ISN’T like anything I’ve ever seen. Different kinds of aliens roam the brick streets, and crystalline blue waterfalls pour out of canals on either side of us. We appear to be floating in the sky, the fog completely obscuring the ground below. A clockwork city rises above me, stretching for stories and stories above, smokestacks pumping grey plumes into the atmosphere. At first I think it’s just foggy, but I quickly realize we’re literally floating in the atmosphere, clouds surrounding the city completely.

I try not to get dizzy again, telling myself I’m dreaming. Soon, I’ll wake up and forget all this ever happened. If I wasn’t dreaming, I wouldn’t be able to understand all these aliens — right?

I hear the little green man say something, and I perk my ears up to listen.

“Yes, I bought her contract from the merchants in Oddí and I’m bringing her back to Kaer Idunn,” he says, “It seems like she’s more trouble than she was worth…yes, m’lord, I understand. We will return shortly.”

Where the heck am I?

My subconscious is still roaring in protest, even as I try to make sense of what’s going on. I’m in some kind of alien city, that’s for sure. I appear to have been purchased, as awful as that is. I’m trapped, and I don’t have any means of escape for now.

I’m in a bad situation.

A very bad situation.

And all the while, as I try to figure out how I’m going to get out of this, my brain screams at me that this is insane. This couldn’t possibly be happening. Aliens aren’t real, and I was on my way to a protest in San Francisco.

The year is 1970.

I am on Earth.

But I am very clearly not on Earth.

My throat closes up and I buckle once again. The little green man keeps walking at first, then he turns and rushes back to me as I gasp for air. I can’t inhale deeply enough, my lungs spasming.

I’m having a panic attack.

“Breathe,” the creature says in its high-pitched English accent, “What is your name?”

I focus on answering the question.

“Ella…” I gasp out. “Ella McKenna.”

“Good, Ella McKenna,” he says, “Breathe. We need to walk another half hour to the castle. If you do not walk, the merchants will take you back and you will likely be returned to stasis. Do you understand?”

I look up at him.

His little antennae look…earnest, if that makes any sense?

I nod and stand once again.

He helps me to my feet, even though his arms are thin and he appears very weak. I take a few steps, then a few more.

And then I see it.

What he described as the castle, floating in front of us. An arcing bridge leads across a chasm of fog, connecting the road we’re on to a hovering palace in the clouds. I can just barely see that it rests on a tall cliff, though it stands serene and still as if it isn’t floating in mid-air. Its turrets are thin and towering, glowing white with yellow-lit windows.

Where the hell am I?

“We should hurry,” he says, “The warden will be waiting.”

I wonder, once again, who the warden could possibly be.

“Wait,” I say, “What’s your name?”

He gives me an annoyed glance.

“Atalucienix Cantrabelan,” he says, puffing his shoulders up, “But you can call me Lucien. Now come along, we haven’t much time.”

I follow.

This city is impossible. As far as I can tell, we’re floating, but somehow the whole thing stays upright. This city — I think the green man called it “Oddí” — is like a mash-up of the futuristic cities from Star Trek, a renaissance festival, and the inside of a clock. Aliens race overhead on flying machines, while old rusted gears spin on buildings and in waterworks. There’s mostly aliens around, but I see a few humans in their midst. The aliens and humans mostly ride on flying machines, or sometimes on what look like horses with narrow, spiked feet and fangs.

I can’t seem to get my feet under me, no matter how hard I try. It’s like my legs are jelly after being in whatever that pod was that brought me here.

And I have a million questions, but the little green man doesn’t answer them.

The castle looms ahead of us, and as we get closer I realize that almost all of it is moving in some way. Its turrets spin with glowing light, and a hollowed courtyard in the middle of the place reveals a small garden inside, complete with a flowing waterfall. Water pours off the edges of the castle, the waterfalls trickling into town through glass canals nestled in clouds of fog.

This place would be beautiful if it wasn’t all so bizarre. And if I wasn’t being held captive.

The bridge scares me when we get close to it, a sheer drop-off on either side of the arch. But the little green man doesn’t seem to mind, and steps onto the glistening glass without a care in the world. I follow, trying not to look down, reminding myself that there’s more than enough width here — at least ten feet — to keep me from going over the edge. I hurry to keep up with the alien ahead of me, but it’s hard to maintain a solid pace when I can’t even get my bearings. My legs wobble under me like they’re going to throw me to the ground.

“Stay steady,” the alien says ahead of me. I look up to see he’s watching me over his shoulder, his opaque, glowing eyes narrowed. “M’lord will not be happy if you fall over the edge.”

“What’s down there?” I ask.

“The Elixir Mines,” he replies, “Not somewhere you want to end up, especially so early in your indenture. You could end up there for thousands of years.”

There’s too much for me to process. I scramble to get my head on straight.

“Elixir Mines?”

“You’ll learn,” he grumbles.

“When I first woke up, I couldn’t understand what anyone was saying,” I say, “But now everything’s crystal clear. How is that possible?”

“There was a translator implanted in your brain while you were asleep,” he explains.

“Can I take it out?”

“No.”

“And who’s the warden?”

“Lord Calder,” he grumbles, “Oddí’s keeper.”

“Keeper?”

“Enough questions,” he cuts me off, “We’ll be there soon.”

“But why won’t you talk to me?”

“Waste of time,” the alien says, “I doubt you’ll last long here anyway. Lord Calder has never taken on a new house servant, and I’m sure we’ll soon go back to normal.”

I blanch at the insult, immediately rankled. This little alien seemed kind and much less scary than some of the alternatives, but it turns out he’s not such a gem himself.

“What the hell does that mean?”

He doesn’t respond.

I get my feet under me when we finally reach the other end of the bridge, where a massive gate separates the path from the meandering road up to the castle. The gate, a patchwork of different kinds of metal, comes apart as we approach, sweeping to the sides and clearing the way. The parts float in the air like bubbles, defying everything I know about gravity.

It reassembles after we walk through, and I gulp.

I’m pretty sure this isn’t a dream. And, at this point, I’m locked in.

“This way,” the little green man says, gesturing up the path.

No one meets us. I guess I expected guards or something, but the place is empty. To our right, a stream rolls down the hill, passing through a grate at the foot of the perimeter fence where the water plunges into the fog. The alien leads me up the hill and toward a big wooden door, the combination of advanced tech and archaic aesthetic jarring.

My muscles ache, and I stumble.

“Warden won’t like that,” my companion grumbles.

“Will you please tell me who the warden is?” I plead.

“Quiet,” he says, and pushes the door open to wave me through. “He’ll be waiting. Do as you’re told, and do not complain.”

I hesitate.

I don’t think I want to meet this guy if those are the rules.

“He’s not a patient man,” the alien presses.

Well, it’s not like I can just run back into the city. The gate is closed behind me and, even if it wasn’t, there are more bad people waiting back where I came from. I slip my hand into my pocket and breathe a sigh of relief when I find Pat’s dog tags still in my pocket, squeezing them to remind myself who I am.

There’s no way to go but forward.