by Olivia Ali
"Hagen?" At the utterance of his name, my blood boiled. If only my presence in the world were more physical.
"Hello Boris!"
Hagen removed his hood revealing greying hair that framed his squared forehead in symmetry with a well-trimmed bearded chin. The man's attire was not visible under his black cloak, but considering he was the Baron of this town he imagined it was glamorous and regal. He held his posture proudly - tall and high as though he looked down his nose at everyone he passed.
The two brothers smiled to each other and they embraced as though they hadn't seen the other in a long time, smiles upon they're ancient faces. The scar on Boris' face was now in full view and as I picked out the runes spelling out the word traitor, I remembered how you brother had been the one to give it to him.
As the realisation began to sink in, a sickness began to take over the fading butterflies and I felt as though I was falling. The scene around me slipped from his sight as the colours blackened into one in a sort of ripple effect. The fall itself seemed to last forever, the blackness being all he could see until finally the colour began to pinch at the sides once more. I prayed to God I wouldn’t end up back in the shadow.
~~~
Tristan opened his eyes, a foggy world now formed around him with figures stood all around. Their shadows glittering as they moved to form a crowd behind two kneeling brothers Tristan recognised to be he and Romeo. They knelt before an elderly woman whom he assumed to be the Interpreter Cadica. The voice she spoke with was uninterpretable, just an echo that seemed to soothe his soul deep within. Without having any control, he and his brother turned to face a line of hooded Elders that stood behind them. His eyes were caught by two men stood behind the row; Hagen and Boris.
In an instant, the vision changed. For some reason, rather than watching each memory play out before him like usual, he was a part of the memory doing exactly as he had done all those years ago. The new scene that glittered in gold before him was one he had seen before as he crouched by the banister of a balcony, watching three men he knew and the head of another conspiring amongst themselves. Again, their voices melded into one making an echo sound over the words as though there weren't any to be spoken because he already knew them.
The glitter figures burst, reforming to show another familiar vision of two men wrestling with each other, Boris being shoved against the wall by the other. Tristan didn't know what was going on, why was he seeing things he already remembered...unless, like Merlin said, he had become part of the memory just as he should aim to do. Again, the glitter burst but this time what came back into view was full colour; the echoes stopping and every ounce of glitter disintegrating before him.
This time, he held Boris by the collar up against the wall; anger making his insides heat up with rage. As Boris squirmed in his grasp he managed a smile - he wasn't at all scared of Tristan and laughed in his face.
"What are you laughing at?" Tristan demanded through gritted teeth. "You killed him!"
"So what if I did?" Boris choked, the smile not leaving his face. "What are you going to do, kill me?"
"Worse, I'll make you wish I killed you; Tabacious!"
At the utterance of his true name, Boris yelled out causing Tristan to drop him to the floor and back away to watch him squirm for real this time. Tristan watched as Boris crouched on the floor yelling out in pain and clutching the right side of his face as though something was burning it. He stood tall as Boris stopped yelling, struggling to his feet with his hands still covering the right side of his face.
"How did you know my name?" Boris begged.
"Wouldn't you like to know?" Tristan answered, a snigger escaping his lips.
In his shock at the arrogance of Tristan, Boris' hand slipped away from his face revealing a word in runes etched into his face, steam still oozing from the fresh scar. The runes spelt out a word in Ancient Keeper; Betrayer. Marvelled at the sheer extent of his naming of Boris, Tristan turned and left the room. He would eventually kill Boris; that was why he named him - marked him for death. He didn't intend to mark him in such a way but maybe that was what happened. At least now, the whole Keeperhood would see him for what he was.
Just like before, the vision soon faded to be replaced by another again with Boris being held up against the wall by Romeo and still he managed to keep a smile on his face.
"How are you alive?" Not the words Tristan expected to hear himself say but seeing how the last time he saw Boris they were all inside a mountain that was imploding on itself. "Well?"
"Good question...I wish I knew," Boris squelched, his sarcasm only making Romeo tighten the grip he had.
"Where is he?"
"He...who's he?" His grip tightened again and Boris felt a burning sensation in his mark. "Oh, you mean Sarisus...yeah he's dead."
"And the Eye?"
"I don't know...I never found it again."
"You better be telling the truth!"
Romeo released his grip and Boris fell to the floor gasping for breath.
"You're not going to kill me?" He called after Tristan as they began to walk away.
"Don't worry I'll kill you eventually. You might still be useful to me."
For the last time the vision changed and the blackness returned, the pinches of light having more of an effect and sending spasms of light across his vision. As he was forced to disconnect himself from the world, he had just been a part of, a dampness formed on his forehead. It made him realise that he was coming back to reality but that wasn't something he wanted to be permanent. In order to remember, he had to remain part of both worlds and as he tried to focus on that a smell greeted his senses, a smell that was incredibly distracting.
Chapter 28 – Tabacious
Warrick placed a damp cloth over Tristan's forehead to relieve the warmness he felt radiating off of it. Once he had cooled a little, he took out the vial from his pocket and unscrewed the cork stopper, a potent smell filling the whole tavern. Dante looked over at the source of the smell, spying the blue crystals within the vial. He watched as Warrick held the vial beneath Tristan's nose, smiling as his nose wrinkled at the smell until finally he came too, coughing and spluttering.
"Works every time!" Warrick exclaimed, quickly sealing the vial over again and supporting Tristan as he sat unsteadily upright.
Once he was steady and the coughing had stopped, Warrick took a step back and pocketing the vial once more before removing the cloth from Tristan's head. Dante got up to stand by his side, relieved when Tristan looked up with a smile on his face at the sight of him.
"You had us all worried for a minute there," Dante said, the concern lifting from his voice.
"Just for a minute huh?" Tristan joked.
Dante shook his head and Frankie got to his feet.
"Right, now that the panic is over," Frankie assumed. "Who's for some breakfast?"
"Yes please!" Dante and Tristan both exclaimed in unison as Frankie disappeared into the back room with Warrick close behind.
"Want to tell me what happened then?" Dante asked after a while, not making eye contact with Tristan.
"I don't know if I'm honest with you," Tristan explained quietly. "One minute I walked into this man and the next..."
"Man? What did he look like?"
"Why is that important?"
"Tristan, do I need to explain to you where you are? It might not be someone you were...friendly with back then."
"Well I don't know, it's all a little...foggy..."
"Come on there has to be something identifiable?"
"How long was I out for?"
"Maybe a couple of minutes but I can't seem to think why that is important. What did the man look like?"
"I only saw his face...but just for a minute. All I remember is the scar on his right side..."
Dante didn't wait for him to finish before he clambered to his feet and ran out the door with Tristan calling out after him, he already knew who it was Tristan had seen. As he reached the gates to the Compound,
Dante keeled over struggling for breath. He knew there was something not quite right when he'd seen the faint outline of a red handprint on the wall of the gates just the other day, and if the man Tristan saw was who he thought it was then that would be all the answers he would need. However, it could also spell disaster for Tristan if he didn't remember everything quickly.
Once he'd caught his breath, he looked for the handprint again, spying it by the gatepost. It was rather faded, so much so it might as well not have been there at all. It was just about noticeable though, a red left handprint on its side like it was pointing. Back in Dante's time, a red handprint had stood for safe places in the time of the repression however he had a feeling it meant something completely different in this generation. Following the wall down to the left, he spotted another handprint on a dead-root covered wooden signpost that tilted down a dark passageway between two long abandoned townhouses. Darting down the passageway he spied a small hut in a cluster of other odd shacks and lean toos as though it once resembled a market of some sort. Creeping up towards the darkened window, he peeked inside to see his old friend Boris talking with a man he did not recognise. He couldn't hear what they were saying but he could tell the men were somehow linked by the way they laughed and embraced towards the end of their conversation. As the door opened, Dante darted under the wooden steps that lead to the shack. Watching above, he saw the other man walk down the steps, pulling his hood up as he went. He obviously didn't want to be recognised out in the streets and that told Dante that perhaps he was one of the well to do men that resided up in the estate. Springing up to the steps, he caught the door just before it shut and eased inside, keeping close to the shadows. He watched as Boris took a step behind the counter and ran his hands over the varnished counter, smiling as though he were admiring the place.
"Hagen Hagen Hagen," he sang in an undertone, gratitude leaking from his lips as he spoke. "What would I do without you?"
"Why don't we find out?" shouted a voice that wasn't Dante's...or was it? Not even he knew whether the words were his or not, he had after all intended on saying something right at that minute but it seemed someone had beaten him to it.
"Who's there?" called Boris, his voice breaking slightly with awkward laughter. "Hagen don't be messing with me now."
"I wonder what Tabacious would be without someone pulling his strings."
Dante watched as Boris' eyes widened and his whole body began to quake in fear at the mention of his true name. Dante wondered for a moment if it could be Tristan but...no...surely not. It had to be one of his fellow brothers of Union perhaps.
"What do you want?"
"Something simple I promise. Don't worry I won't kill you, it's not my job after all."
Definitely not Tristan, but who? Almost in answer to his question, a man stepped out from the shadows who towered over Boris. He was in imposing man, even in his dust caked clothing - a clear sign that he hadn't long got back from the Land of the Faded. Dark hair was combed back with curls at the base of his neck. His eyes too were dark underneath his heavy brow which completed his long face and pointed bearded chin. Despite the dust on his clothes, he could tell they were at one point well put together; a brown leather jacket covering a red shirt that was neatly tucked into dark leather breaches and a pair of black boots. From the look Boris gave him though, it was clear they knew each other but he didn't get the impression it was for a good reason.
"Zhaine?" Boris croaked. "But how?"
"It's not like I was dead, the Land of the Faded is easy really." The man smirked.
"So Tristan, he's remembering then?'
"I couldn't tell you even if I wanted to. However, there is something you can tell me." Boris gulped. "I did have something else in mind for you, but after what I just heard I can't just sit back and let you and Hagen do what you do best. I have to finish what we all started!"
"But how can you, you didn't name me so you can't..." Whatever he was going to say was cut short as he cried out in pain, clutching at the right side of his face as his scar seared with pain. "I may not have named you and I may not be able to kill you...but I can still do an awful lot of damage."
"Alright alright! Stop! I'll tell you anything you want."
In an instant the pain stopped and Zhaine half smiled.
"Okay, then we'll start with Hagen."
"Hagen is the Barron here, this town answers to him now."
"And Myrina, what is she doing with him?"
"That I don't know. I mean I ain't gonna lie to you but we both know that even though Romeo is dead she still wouldn't choose him willingly. I don't know why she's there."
"For once I think you might be telling the truth."
"You're not going to do anything are you?"
"Not yet! How do I get a look at the both of them?"
"Come on Zhaine don't put me in this position."
"I just want to talk to her."
"That better be it because if you endanger my brother in any way you realise I will be in a very difficult position where you are concerned. It's not just my name I am bound to you know?"
"I am aware of that Boris and I swear, on this occasion; I just want to talk to her."
"There's a formal event at the end of the week. Marks the Autumn Solstice and there's a big party. You're going to have to look the part though, only rich people get in."
"I have to pay?"
"Not exactly, you have to make an offering to his treasury...like gold or something...something valuable."
"I can work with that."
"You might wanna find yourself some nicer clothes too, your attire's...well...a little shabby if I'm honest. They'll never let you in looking like that."
"Thanks for the tip Boris but I could say the same to you."
"I'm family so it doesn't count where I'm concerned."
"What about a name?"
"Any name should be fine, of course not your own. Try something like Colinson or Adamson. And put a Ser before your name, no one will ever believe you're a lord unless you can prove it."
"Should be easy pickings. Pleasure doing business with you old friend. See you soon!"
In an instant Zhaine disappeared right before their eyes in a puff of dust. Taking that as his cue to leave, Dante dashed through the door and made his way back to the tavern where no doubt Tristan would be very confused awaiting his return. The eavesdropping had proved useful though he wasn't sure how fruitful for the moment.
"Where'd you disappear off to?" Demanded Frankie as Dante came back through the door of the tavern to a fresh aroma of a full cooked breakfast.
"I had something to do," Dante stammered, winking at Tristan. "Anything left for me?"
"Sure, sit yourself down, I'll get you a platter."
Dante took a seat next to Tristan and smirked at Warrick who had a curious look on his face. He assumed he wasn't the type to attract a lot of trust so he didn't let the look bother him too much.
"Where did you go?" Tristan asked him with a mouthful of unchewed food.
"I'll tell you later," he stated, clapping Tristan on the back and causing him to choke. "Don't talk with a mouthful, it's highly unbecoming of you."
Frankie placed a full plate of breakfast in front of Dante and went back to eating his own meal. The meat smelt so succulent and fresh he wondered how they got hold of it in a place like this. Then again, in a town such as this there had to be a Black Market of some sort.
"Say Frankie," Dante gulped as he finished a gulp of his juice half way through his meal. "If I were looking for a place to get some well to do clothes, where could I go?"
"Why, what do you have in mind?" Frankie answered as he cleared his throat with a sip of his own juice.
"That Autumn Solstice at the end of the week."
"You've got your hopes set high ain't ya? Well put it this way you can't get any such round 'ere..."
"There is a place actually," Warrick interjected causing a surprised look from his father. "The Black Market of cou
rse, where do you think I get all my medicines father?" Frankie didn't answer him. "If you follow the red handprints, they lead to a cluster of old houses that come alive in the afternoon with stalls from all around. It's always when the guards are on lunch; security is lax then. It only comes round once a week at the end of the week. They have everything a common old town person might want and for good prices too. If you're going to find something to wear it'll be there. But don't forget your offering of gold to the Baron's treasury when you go to the festival and trust me, they'll know if it's a fake."
"Thank you Warrick, I'll remember that."
Tristan gave Dante an odd look; he suspected something but he didn't say anything. Instead, he continued to eat his breakfast and they all followed suit, the rest of the meal taking place with the odd funny comment.
"So why did you disappear off like that?" questioned Tristan as they headed back to the Compound later that morning. He had to admit he was fairly curious but he was also afraid that it may have been something he had said at the time - not that he could think what.
"I had to go see someone..." Dante answered quickly without looking at him.
"Dante please tell me the truth?" Tristan begged as he stopped dead in his tracks.
"Why do you care so much?"
"The man I saw, he wasn't friendly with me back then."
Dante stopped, that was what he had been waiting for - for Tristan to be honest with both of them.
"Who was he?" Dante turned to face Tristan as he asked the question.
"His name was Boris...I named him...Tabacious"
"Named him?"
"Don't pretend like you don't know what it means you named him first." Backtracking, he couldn't believe the words that had come out of his mouth; how had he even known that?
"How did you know that?"
"I don't know. I just do..."
"This Tabacious, what did he do to you to make you name him?"
