Taber

by K Fisher

  She grabbed for the trousers near her bed, abandoning any thought of a calculated dressing as she threw them on under her long nightgown and ran towards the door with her knife in hand. Dora was not going to allow the dark magic, intruder, or whatever the presence that taunted her was, to roam through Castle Herrick while she was there.

  Throwing open the door, the two elven guards standing watch outside jumped with the abruptness of the sound. It led her to believe they had not heard the voice from within her room, making Dora wonder if it had only been meant for her. Perhaps all of this was still a part of the dream and her guards would see their future Queen roaming the hallways in trousers and a gown speaking of the shadow of a dead man. She was already having a hard enough time gaining the loyalty and trust of those who had been under the previous King’s reign, now she’d present herself as mad.

  “Princess, is there anything the matter?” one of the solemn-faced warriors inquired, brown eyes narrowing in concern before darting over to her second guard, Nickolas.

  “Not a thing,” Dora responded, waving off his concern as she looked down the hallway just in time to see the dark smudge of a shadow round the corner. “I’ll be back, no need to follow me.”

  “I…” Phillip’s voice trailed off as his confused eyes looked to Nickolas, then back to the Princess and the knife as she started off down the hallway. The mere idea that they would not be following her and ensuring she was safe was beyond the both of them, but neither were able to do a thing as Dora slipped out of eyesight and around the corner. “I don’t think we should let her…”

  Dora’s face popped out from behind the corner, eyes narrowing in on the two of them, “That’s an order.”

  Without another word, she carried on with her mission, bare feet pattering along the stone floors of the castle as she searched for her enemy and left the two guards to stumble over their bearings behind her. Catching sight of the shadow racing down the hallway, she kicked up her heels and skidded around to another hallway, trying to catch it before it disappeared.

  It was in the corner before her, left of a large window and pressed against the stone as if it meant to escape into the world outside. Like a mouse attempting to run from a cat, it scurried and climbed several inches before running in circles against the wall. Dora approached the shadowed creature slowly, knife at the ready as she cornered the thing and mulled over her next decision. Just as quickly as it had been trapped, the shadow escaped Dora, sliding into the space between the wall and ground behind it like it had the door to her room.

  She cursed, racing to the wall and slamming her fist against the stone, crouching down as close as she could to the ground as her hands reached and searched for the enemy; not quite knowing what she would do if she did grasp the shadow. Still, chasing it down gave her a sense of courage that vastly outweighed the fear the thing had invoked only earlier in her bedroom.

  Her fingers touched something at the crease of the stone where the wall of the hallway met the floor. It was a flexible wedge that moved a quarter inch upward beneath her fingers when her nails snagged beneath it. Dora’s hand whipped away, elven ears twitching as she focused on hearing beyond the thick stone. She tucked a stray strand of short back hair behind her tall ear, leaning forward until it was pressed against the cold wall in an attempt to catch anything that could possibly cause her danger or give her some insight.

  There was dripping, a soft splashing in her ears just beyond the wall, a sound that should not have been heard within the infrastructure of the castle walls. It was clear something was behind the stone, and it wasn’t a place she was familiar with; a place that the dark shadow had escaped to. Dora took a deep breath and closed her eyes, hand lowering to find the lever once more as she braced herself for what might happen next.

  “My Queen?”

  The shrill tone caught her off guard, forcing Dora to jump back from the wall, almost tripping over the hem of her nightgown before she was able to regain her composure and slowly stand, facing the maid who had come across her. The young woman was clutching a rag to her chest, bright blue eyes wide with concern. Her elven ears were timidly pinned back against the side of her long, brown hair, eyes slowly lowering to Dora’s trousers protruding from beneath her gown and the curved knife in her hand, darting back to the Princess’s face a moment later.

  “Dropped something,” Dora said with a smile, dusting her one hand down the side of her gown and tucking the knife against her before quickly walking back down the hallway she had come from, passing the maid.

  The young woman said nothing to Dora but it was clear she was surprised at the appearance of her Queen without her guards, scrounging around on the ground like a peasant in the most appalling of outfits. The maid’s footsteps headed in the opposite direction of her and Dora prayed to Desin she wouldn’t hear any whispers of what the woman had seen during the next council meeting. She already had enough to worry about with her family and the other leaders of Desin doubting her ability to rule at such a young age.

  Her mind remembered the path she had taken as she went back to her guards and entered her room once more without giving them a second glance, trying to ignore the studying gazes the two of them shot her. Once the door was closed behind her, Dora locked it and paced the space before her bed, refusing to climb back under the sheets. No matter how much work she was expected to do the following day, she was well aware that the curiosities of the night would not allow her to sleep soundly. As soon as she had finished her full schedule the following day she’d return to her room and begin setting her plan in motion, besides, there was plenty of paperwork to do while she was unable to sleep, no matter how exhausted she was.

  Setting herself up at a small table in the corner, Dora lit an oil lantern and put it down alongside her, peering over the papers scattered on the wood. Paperwork… Something no one had mentioned to her during her time training to take over the throne. Nevertheless, the position was hers by birthright and she’d be damned if she didn’t do everything in her power to help the people of Desin. Even if that meant she was putting quill to paper for hours a day, approving and denying requests and sentencing for those who had broken the laws of their lands.

  Dora worked quickly and efficiently, knowing the next night she’d seek out what was being hidden there beyond the walls of her castle, no matter the costs.

  Someone was screwing with her and Dora was going to find out who.

  Chapter Three

  “Not going to eat another bite,” Alni moaned out loud, but still the sweet, garlicky bread was lifted to his lips for another taste.

  Bethinium was slumped back in his chair comfortably, finishing the mead in his hands in one deep gulp before placing the beaker back on the counter. The empty cup was quickly picked up by the barkeep, but was not refilled for the old man. Bethinium’s dark eyes glanced over at Alni and the bread, chuckling as he shook his head.

  “I don’t know where you put it all, Alni. I don’t.”

  “An empty hole, Bethinium. I have to fill it up with food so the magic you’re teaching me doesn’t fall down it,” Alni responded, finally putting down the last of the bread in his hands with an air of defeat. “So, you really think Taber is up on the mountain?”

  “I am not certain, especially if he knows I was able to see his location through the dream spell. I imagine he’s running or at least attempting to get away from wherever I may be. However, warlocks leave a very distinct trail behind them.” Bethinium grabbed for Alni’s beaker, the mead inside sloshing as he quickly saved it from spilling and repositioned it on the counter before them. Next, he took a coin from his pocket and put it on the table next to the mead. He slid the beaker before them, his other hand trailing the coin behind at a much slower pace. “Because we pull our magic from Desin, it’s a lingering energy after we use it. In the Elven lands, Nevina Forests, and castle, warlocks are not uncommon. Magic itself is not uncommon, despite the elves not possessing it for a great many years.”

  T
he coin stopped moving, Bethinium’s hand lazily continued to drag the drink away from Alni, stopping when it was in front of his body.

  “Over here…This is where most of the humans ran off to…The dwarves…Other creatures. They didn’t like or accept magic for quite some time, still don’t; not trusting warlocks and elves after the bad reign of Mallor and the dragons that were used against them. That being said, the trail Taber leaves behind should be most prevalent here. We will be able to see it, whereas one at home would be diluted by the other magic users. I hope that we can find where he has been, and collect a trail…Sniff him out, in a way.”

  Alni nodded slowly, taking in the information as he eyed the counter in front of him. One finger pointed to the coin and his drink, confusion clear in his eyes, “Okay, so I get what you said just now, but whatever you’re doing here with my drink, it’s not making any sense to me.”

  Bethinium looked at the coin and drink on the counter and shrugged, grabbing Alni’s mead and lifting it to his lips before taking a long swig, lowering it to the counter and sliding it back to Alni.

  “Maybe there was a visual lesson here, lad, maybe there wasn’t. In the end, perhaps I just wanted your drink.”

  Bethinium left the coin on the countertop, pushing the stool out and hopping to the ground with a wobble. Alni sighed, abandoning his own chair and stretching his arms up above his head before following the old man on his journey towards the front of the tavern and the room they had reserved just next door.

  They had listened in on conversations and joined tables in song during their time at the tavern, Alni’s shorter, elven ears tucked away under his maroon cap to avoid questions and Bethinium playing the part of his father; the two searching for any sign of magic or stories of who they were looking for. Just as they had both suspected though, Taber was covering his tracks, not flaunting magic and bringing attention to himself on the mountainsides.

  Before Bethinium’s hand reached the door of the tavern and they were able to exit, a gruff voice pulled both of their attention.

  “Come ‘ere, both of yous,” a fat, red-faced man sitting at a wooden table called over to them.

  Alni glanced over his shoulder, then back at the man, confirming he was speaking to Bethinium and himself before looking to the old warlock for a sign as to what they were going to do. Bethinium abandoned his grasp at the door, turning his attention to the one who called them as he headed over towards the table, still keeping a distance from the stranger who had so rudely stopped them as he paused before the man.

  “What can we do for you?” he inquired, hand extending to his side to stop Alni from approaching further.

  The fat man gestured to the two others who sat with him, giving Bethinium and Alni a snarl that exposed a mouth-full of summer teeth.

  Summer teeth, some certainly were not.

  Alni shook the thoughts from his head, forcing himself to focus on the three at the table and not on the tasteless insults that had begun flowing through his mind. Just as he had experienced before with the bullies of his childhood, no good came from running his mouth when he had yet to assess a situation properly.

  “We heard ya talkin’ about magic at the bar,” the stranger said, standing from his position at the table. “If yer wielders of it, ya best be gettin’ out of ‘ere. ‘Specially after the last one of ye caused a ruckus.”

  “Last one, you say?” Bethinium’s interest was immediately perked, hyperfocused on the man’s words and the potential they brought.

  Alni, on the other hand, was observing the companions who had stood with their friend in silent support. It looked as though they were still sitting, but when they moved it was clear they were not. Both of the other men’s heads came to the lower stomach of the fat patron, their curling beards were so thick and luscious it made them seem ever smaller in the midst of the hairs. They were robust and strong, stocky as they sucked in breath and pushed out their chests. Never had Alni seen anyone so small, aside from the fairies in the forests of Nevina. Not even the Man in the Tree had been so positively smashed into such a minute frame.

  Dwarves, they had to be dwarves.

  “I mean it, we don’t take kindly ta your kind, if yer magic users, git!” This time, it was one of the dwarves that spoke, voice low and gravelly as he took one step away from the table and towards them, a hand shaking in the air before him.

  “Now, are you calling us gits or telling us to leave? I need some further clarification,” Alni spoke out, the words escaping before he had a chance to stop them.

  Bethinium slowly turned to peer over at Alni, the look on his face exhausted and only slightly amused. “Truly? Must you?”

  The three men had left the table behind in a rush, stopping before Alni and Bethinium, but instead of deeming the old man their point of contact, all six eyes were focused on Alni the moment he flashed the insult in their direction.

  “Sorry, sorry,” Alni shrugged, straightening his back and adjusting the collar of his tunic as he looked to the strangers. “We are a part of magical authority hoping to cease magic use in the area. Disgusted by the stuff. As you can see, I possess no magic.” He reached for his cap and removed it, wiggling his two elven ears at them. Despite being only a half-breed, they poked out from the tousled strands of his red hair. “We came here to investigate reports of magic, tell us…What did you observe?”

  “Well we don’t like no elves, either!” the other dwarf yelled out, smashing his beaker on the table, hand moving to his side slowly as if to reach for a weapon. “Go look at the side of the tavern if yer so concerned! Just git out of ‘ere!”

  “Terribly rude little thing, aren’t you?”

  This time, Bethinium had enough of Alni’s tongue, grabbing the young man’s arm and yanking him towards the exit of the tavern once again. Still, it wasn’t quick enough to escape the biting anger of the short-tempered trio that had decided it was their duty to rid the tavern of the newcomers. There was an enormous crash as one of the beakers of mead soared through the air and hit the door a mere inch from Bethinium’s wrinkled hand, splattering the liquid all over the wooden floor of the tavern.

  “A waste!” Bethinium sighed, wiping up a small splash of the mead that had ended up on his exposed wrist and hand.

  All around them, patrons went quiet and observed the situation happening before them, the barkeep keeping out of things until it had clearly gone too far. He let out an audible groan from his position behind the counter. “Out! Out! All of you!” he barked.

  Alni was already following Bethinium’s lead, knowing if they stayed a moment longer inside there was no telling how far the situation would escalate. Besides, in the end of it all they had more information than before and it was clear they were heading in the right direction.

  The cold air outside hit them immediately, Bethinium led him over towards the inn alongside the tavern. It was where they would be staying that night and had already purchased a key from the barkeep. Still, the old warlock did not take Alni inside, instead swung them both around the back of the tavern, a finger to his lips.

  There was another crash as the tavern door was pushed open a second time and bodies poured out into the streets, the three men who had harassed them surely the ones that exited. Their angry grumbling reached Alni and Bethinium’s ears, feet sloshing through the muddy ground as they searched for the two that had insulted them; thankfully, heading in what seemed to be the opposite direction of where Alni and Bethinium hid. Their voices faded away slowly and Alni let out a breath of air he did not realize he had been holding, feeling the tension in his shoulders release as they sagged.

  There was the softest of gasps from Bethinium at his side and Alni’s head jerked to look at him, prepared to see immediate danger and stopping when he saw what had actually caused the alarm.

  Behind them both and against the wall of the tavern, deep burns were embedded into the wood like whipped lashes upon a back, deep and dark, charred and radiating a warmth that Alni had not noticed u
ntil his eyes registered the message written into the side of the tavern. One word that read easily, even in the darkness of night, a shimmer of pale magic illuminating the edges of each letter.

  Leave.

  Bethinium’s voice was a low whisper, eyes wide as he took in the damage that magic had surely caused. Turning to look at Alni, he extended a hand to point at the word, the softest of frustration on his old face as he let out a deep sigh.

  “Alni, I think this message is for us.”

  Chapter Four

  “Well, something tells me Taber isn’t interested in meeting us,” Alni said softly, taking another step away from the side of the tavern and the message scrawled upon it.

  Bethinium was speechless at first as he reached into his dark cloak and rummaged around in the depths before pulling out a small velvet sack. Tossing it up into the air, he caught it in the palm of his hand and looked down at it with a furrowed brow. “You are right, he does seem to be a step ahead of us, but that’s not going to stop me from finding him. Whatever you do Alni, don’t move.”

  Alni opened his mouth to shoot out a response but when Bethinium emptied the confines of the velvet sack into his hand, he decided to simply watch and see what the warlock had up his sleeve. Besides, there was no situation in the past where ignoring Bethinium had paid out for anyone and the last time he had done so he had found himself falling from Silthia’s back.

  There were three small stones in Bethinium’s hand, each one glowing a soft white hue. They appeared to breathe, the white energy around them growing and retracting at the same tempo as a breath. The stones were vibrating along the old warlock’s skin as they shook and danced, threatening to fall to the ground and away from them both. Bethinium cupped his hand to prevent them from escaping and started whispering beneath his breath in a hushed, hurried tone that had become familiar to Alni during their weeks together and the spells he had seen the man do.