by J C Maynard
Qerru-Mai jerked her head and looked at Eston with wide eyes. Her mother smiled and gestured toward the prince. “Impressive idea your Majesty. I believe the Council should consider this option. Sir Nollard, you are Ferramoor’s head of trade; what do you say.”
“I don’t like the prospect, “ said a younger man with olive skin and long black hair, “but it could potentially work. Although we would risk exposure, if we rerouted our military supply chain to run through Nottenberry to our camps at Wallingford and Abendale, we could save enough time and money to partly compensate for the loss of the profits from tariffs.”
While he stood, Eston noticed that a small wave rippled through curtain on the other side of the room behind Sir Nollard’s chair booth. The man had hung his coat on the back of his seat. Silently, a hand slipped out of the curtain and removed a piece of paper from the man’s coat; the hand vanished behind the curtain. Nobody had noticed but him.
Above Eston, the queen thanked Sir Nollard and decided to further the research in his department on the issue. “And thank you Prince Eston for proposing the idea, you may be seated.” About a minute later, the hand returned and placed the piece of paper back in the same coat pocket.
Prophet Ombern slammed his fist on the desk. “Cran manufacturing and weaponry will only help our army if we get past that damned Gate! Does nobody see?”
Eston remembered what Mordvitch had told Calleneck. “We expect that a massive shipment of the Queen’s weapons will be sent to the front lines after final testing . . . If the Queen puts the full effort of the science wing into developing these explosives, the government will be shipping enough through the Gate, that if we intercept it, we may not only be able to destroy the weapons, but use them to destroy that gate.” He remained silent.
Senator An’Drui’s forehead furrowed, causing her to look quite dangerous. “And I’m sure in all your wisdom you know how we could possibly do that?” Her voice grew cold. “She has an entire legion on that gate. It’s hundreds of feet tall — solid stone from the Taurbeir-Krons. We have to hold off until next summer when the southern pass opens again.”
“We don’t have time. Xandria’s forces grow by the second.” said Sir Whittingale, perpetually standing like a statue. “We have to find a way, Senator An’Drui.”
“There isn’t a way.”
Prophet Ombern stoked his short gray beard. “Perhaps . . . yes . . . perhaps there is a way.” The room fell silent like it was muffled in snow. “Twenty years ago-”
“Ombern!” King Tronum rocketed up from his seat and bellowed. “Absolutely not! Without exception!”
Prophet Ombern shook his head. “It’s been so long, your Majesty . . . You know of what I speak.”
The King’s eyes widened and his face grew purple. “Silence yourself, Prophet!”
Ombern clenched his jaw and almost hissed through it. “Your Majesty, they are growing restless! I highly-”
Tronum slammed a shaking fist on the table in front of him. “Leave this chamber at once, Prophet! If you refuse, I will have the Guard remove you.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
Tronum didn’t blink. “Guards!”
Soldiers adorned with scarlet and gold armor entered through the large oak doors of the chamber. In a hushed voice, Ombern snarled, “You’re afraid. . . . I expected more from a Wenderdehl.” Prophet Ombern stormed out of the chamber, refusing to let the Guard touch him.
Once the meeting was adjourned, Eston turned to Qerru-Mai, whom he had known for quite some time. “That was quite strange, don’t you say.”
“Quite. There is obviously something that your father has not told many people; I don’t believe my mother understood either. I would be careful.” The warm light from the city below the Palace caused her warm brown skin to glow.
“. . . Yes.” Eston remembered the hand from the curtain taking a slip of paper out of Nollard’s pocket and returning it a minute later. “Qerru-Mai, did you notice anything strange behind Sir Nollard during the meeting.”
“I’m afraid not. Is there something in particular you are referring to?”
“It’s nothing, I might have imagined it.” The two exited the chamber and turned down a window-lined hall, where the midday sun streamed in.
With messy hair, Fillian ran around the corner. “Hey, Eston!” he panted. “You have to tell me what happened in th- . . . Oh, hello Miss An’Drui.”
The senator’s daughter nodded and Eston shook his head at Fillian, “I’ll tell you later. Tell Benja that I also think there is someone in the Palace that shouldn’t be here. I saw something strange in the Council.” To Eston’s side, a girl in a black cloak turned a corner; she stopped in her tracks and a streak of blonde hair fell out of her hood. Raelynn Nebelle. She spun around and casually walked back down the hall she came from. Eston turned to Fillian and Qerru-Mai. “I’m sorry, I have to go right now, I just remembered I have to do something. Pleasure talking you, Qerru-Mai. Oh, and don’t tell Benja just yet.” The senator’s daughter had a worried look on her face as Eston bolted away from them.
He rounded the corner and saw Raelynn snake into a side hallway; he ran after her. But he stopped when he saw a dead end at the end of the isolated hallway; Raelynn was not there. The only sounds came from chirping birds outside of the windows. Cautiously, he walked forward. A large marble statue of the Great Mother stood at the end of the hallway, somewhere he liked to explore as a little kid. Alcoves with statues lined one side of the hallway and windows lined the other. How did she get away? He left the hall, abandoning his chase. He failed to notice that where there was once a beautiful centaur statue was now bare stone. The wall shimmered like liquid, and slowly, it evaporated into mist. Raelynn looked down the hall, relieved that her illusion worked.
~Evening
In the Great Dining Hall, a fireplace and the fading light of the sunset illuminated the ornate pillars and ceiling. At the long wooden dinner table, the royal family and a few other important figures stood behind their chairs. As King Tronum took his seat at the head of the table, the others followed.
King Tronum smiled and raised his hand as servers brought over steaming food to the table. “I’d like to thank everyone for their patience today with our rather-” he laughed, “rather unusual Council meeting today.”
Fillian, sitting beside Eston, raised an eyebrow. “Eston, you never told me what happened.”
Queen Eradine shook her head. “It’s nothing to be concerned about . . . your father and Prophet Ombern just had some a disagreement.”
Fillian stared longingly at a sizzling, roasted turkey sitting on a platter in front of Whittingale and King Tronum. “Well, now I’m sad I missed the excitement.”
Whittingale, who sat between Tronum and an empty seat, carved off a leg of the turkey and handed it to the King. “Your Majesty.” he said. “Now Eston, your comment today during the war Council meeting — concerning the Crandles — was quite insightful. How would you suggest shipping their supplies to our troops? Would we use their ships or-”
Whittingale stopped when Benja Tiggins rushed into the Great Dining Hall. Walking up to the table, he bowed to King Tronum and Queen Eradine. “I hope you accept my apology for my lateness.” he said, obviously shaken up by something. “I believe I mixed up my schedule and I was preoccupied with somethi-”
King Tronum raised a hand and smiled. “We understand, Sir Tiggins. Take a seat.”
Benja sat in the open chair beside Whittingale. “We’ve just received reports of a Cerebrian in the Palace, but I can’t pin them down.”
Eston’s stomach turned — he knew exactly who was in the Palace — and Raelynn was up to something today. I told Qerru-Mai not to tell Benja yet.
Queen Eradine picked off a branch of grapes and placed them on her plate. “If you’ve notified your Guards, they’ll be on the lookout.”
Eston shook his head. “It’s probably nothing.”
Benja placed a slice of toasted bread on his plate. “
Well you can never be too careful.”
The Royal family, Benja, Whittngale, and the other Generals and Senators discussed the war effort and relations with the Southlands and the Northlands. As the turkey and hams were finished, a series of palace servants brought out wine glasses, setting them around the table to each of them, including Eston and Fillian.
After they left, King Tronum raised a wine glass, prompting the others to do the same. Tronum smiled and looked around the table. “To progress, and our best efforts in sealing our victory.”
The others joined their glasses together, and Tronum raised the glass to his lips.
Suddenly, Whittingale’s eyes shot open wide shouted, “Everyone stop!” He had his wine glass an inch from his own lips.
The room froze and Whittingale sniffed his wine. He turned to King Tronum. “May I see that?”
King Tronum slowly handed his wine glass to Whittingale.
Sir Whittingale took a whiff of the red wine and nodded. “It’s poisoned.”
Queen Eradine gasped, and Fillian practically threw down his glass on the table.
King Tronum stood up from his seat. “Nobody move.” The King held his glass up to the firelight. Faintly swirling in the red liquid were a few drops of a darker, golden-brown liquid. Tronum breathed out slowly and shook his head. “BlackHolly.”
“What?” said Fillian.
Tronum set the glass back down on the table and picked up Eradine’s and Whittingale’s to see the dark drops of liquid swirling inside. “It’s BlackHolly Poison,” he said. “My sister used to be especially keen on using it.”
Eston’s mind immediately shot to Raelynn. Would she . . . no, why would she try and kill us?
“Are all of them poisoned?” asked Eradine, as Tronum walked around, examining them.
Tronum picked up Benja’s, sniffed it, and held it to the firelight. “Not this one . . .” The King spun around and grabbed Benja by the collar, nearly lifting him out of his chair. Tronum looked him straight in the eye and his voice boomed. “Did you have something to do with this?!”
Benja frantically shook his head. “No, Your Majesty. I swear I didn’t know anything about this.”
Sir Whittingale stood. “Your Majesty, Sir Tiggins wouldn’t do something like this.”
Tronum’s face was flushed red with anger. “Then who did?”
“Well didn’t Benja say that there was a Cerebrian in the Palace?” said Whittingale. “This needs to be investigated more before we make these assumptions.”
Eston nodded. “He’s right. I’ve seen strange things happening too, I think there’s something larger at play.”
Queen Eradine walked over to Tronum and placed a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, darling . . . we’re all safe. Let him go.”
King Tronum let out a frustrated yell and shoved Benja back, letting go of him. The King looked around the room with a raging face and slammed his fist on the table, sending a rattling of silverware and plates echoing through the Dining Hall. “I WANT TO KNOW WHO DID THIS!” he boomed, shattering Benja’s glass of wine on the floor. “This was my sister’s doing!” He began to mutter under his breath, “Damn her! It’s BlackHolly . . . that’s hers!” Tronum looked around at everyone’s frightened faced. “Damn her! Someone has infiltrated this Palace and I want their head!”
Eston’s stomach turned. I need to find Raelynn.
It was under the cover of night that Eston — dressed fully in commoners clothing — had gotten out of the Palace and into the city to find Raelynn. The Westflower Inn is where she told me she’d be staying. He had wound his way through the midnight streets of the city until arriving at the inn.
Walking into the dark parlor lobby lit by only a few candles, he walked up to an oddly short man at a desk. Eston spoke quietly. “I’d like to know the room number of someone who goes by the name Endra . . . she’s probably the only blonde you’ve got staying here.”
The short man shook his head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t give that information to you sir-”
Eston held out a handful of over twenty argentums and set them on the desk.
The man stumbled over his words. “Th- y- yes, umm- let me look . . . that’ll be room two — twenty four, second floor.”
Eston nodded and thanked him, walking up a staircase to room 224. Standing outside the door, he knocked. After a few seconds, he could hear footsteps. The door cracked open and Raelynn peeked her head out. Her eyes shot open when she recognized Eston.
The Prince pressed a finger to his lips, silencing her. He placed his hand on the door and stepped inside where he saw on her small bed an opened case of clothes.
He shut the door and looked Raelynn straight in the eye. “Did you do it?”
“Do what?” she said.
Eston pointed at her. “You know damn well what I’m talking about! Did you try and poison my family?”
Raelynn stepped back in shock. “Of course not! What happened?”
“There was an assassination attempt tonight- on all of us. What were you doing in the Palace today? You stole something while the Council was in session.”
“I think you’re mistak-” said Raelynn.
“I saw you take a paper from Sir Nollard’s coat. Why?”
Raelynn fell silent.
“Why?” pressed Eston.
“Sir Nollard keeps the password to the lower sections of the library on a piece of parchment.”
“Why did you want to access the lower library?”
“As soon as I got the password, I went and told the library guards and they let me in for a half hour. I was looking for a document of employment about the time when the Empire split. My father and my brother have no idea what happened to my mother except that she worked in the Palace.”
Eston’s heart sank. No letters from Seirnkov; she still is unaware that her brother has been dead for weeks. Should I write to her as Calleneck? No, no, it isn’t my place.
Raelynn brushed a strand of blonde hair out of her face. “My father fled with us to Cerebria after she vanished, but he wants to forget about her; he’s almost sure she’s dead. I caught a ship to Findinholm from Port Dellock and from Findinholm to here. I’ve been searching in the library for any clues, and the ones I find are vague and hard to piece together. My last hope was a document in the lower, classified sections of the library. When I looked, the document was gone.”
Eston looked over to the bed where she was packing clothes. “You’re leaving?”
“At sunrise tomorrow, I’ll catch a ship to Findinholm and make my way back to Cerebria.”
Eston shook his head. “Nothing makes any sense right now.” He looked at Raelynn again. “Are you sure you don’t know anything? You’re the only Cerebrian we know of who’s been in the Palace in years.”
Raelynn shook her head. “Your Majesty . . .” She started folding more of her clothes. “I wish I could help. But I wasn’t here for political games . . . I was here to try and find my mother.”
Eston took a deep breath and paused for a while, before turning towards the door. “I wish you safe travels then.”
Raelynn gave a small bow. “Thank you.”
Eston turned for the door. “And by the way . . . I know your name is Raelynn.”
She stood in shock. “How?”
Eston shrugged. “I have my ways. Get a good night’s sleep before your day tomorrow.”
Raelynn stuttered. “I — yes, Your Majesty . . .”
With more questions than he arrived with, Eston turned the door handle and began his journey back up to the Palace. I’ll see you soon, he thought.
Canopy
Chapter Thirteen
~Morning, September 22nd
“Tayben, wake up.” said Gallien.
Tayben opened his eyes and stared up at the dark leaves of Endlebarr. The Phantoms slept high in the canopy of the trees on massive branches the width of a bridge. Some branches were wide enough to collect dirt, springing forth ferns and shrubs on top of them
. “What is it, Gallien?”
Gallien put his hand on Tayben’s shoulder. “I found something strange. I want you to come and see.” Gallien turned around and jumped off the branch onto another one thirty feet below. His blonde hair flipped back and forth as his superhuman-like body nimbly scrambled and jumped down the tree. Confused, Tayben lifted himself up; the other cloaked Phantoms around him were still sleeping. Still nervous about trusting his new abilities, he reluctantly decided to follow Gallien and jump off the branch. As he descended through the fog onto the next branch, the wind brushed his face like a wave of mountain water, and he could feel his body accelerating the farther he dropped. His heart raced with fear, but his legs were now strong and stopped his fall on a branch forty feet below.
When the two reached the forest floor, which was covered in endless groves of ferns and more normal sized trees, Gallien took off running. “Wait up!” Tayben took off after him. His legs were stronger than a horse’s and rocketed him through the underbrush like a speeding arrow, but his steps were so carefully placed and so light, that no tracks could be seen. “Gallien!” he called out. “Where are we going?”
He chased after Gallien, jumping over a river and running through a massive fallen tree whose inside had decomposed. “Wait up, I’m not as fast as you —”
Gallien had stopped in a small glade. Tayben halted from his lighting-like sprint and had no need to catch his breath; the nymphs’ magic within him provided all the energy and necessary functions of the body for him. He had no need to eat, and little need to sleep other than the occasional naps Lekshane allowed them to take.
Gallien knelt down and lifted the branches of a fern. “Come and see.” he said. Tayben knelt next to him and saw a white light emanating from under the fern, the source of which was a small glowing flower. “Give me your knife.” ordered Gallien.
“Why?”
“Just hand it here.” Gallien took the knife, pressed it against his hand, and slit his hand open.
