The Chellion Days

by A.S. Morrison

fancy tunic that fit—he wandered the castle again, this time determined to have a real chat with that lonely girl to see who she was. He noticed that she took a walk in the back gardens every day around noon. He was determined to catch her alone. He set out a plan to catch her out in the maze of hedges. She usually took the walk alone, with her handler watching from the back porch of the castle. Because Sundays were free days he was able to get out and hide behind the farthest hedge and wait.

  Time passed and he started to rethink his plan. This was his first Sunday so he hadn’t had a chance to see if she takes her walk that day yet. He started to feel awfully stupid sitting there when he heard the rustling of cloth. His heart pounded and he started to sweat.

  The princess glided into view around the the last hedge.

  He’d made a mistake. She probably thought he was really weird for trying to talk to her twice already. His stomach hurt. He felt sick. He was too afraid to look.

  The princess came to a stop near him. She didn’t make a sound.

  Ackerley peeked up at her. She stood over him, her face expressionless.

  “I’m sorry.” He said, getting on his knees and shuffling away.

  “Don’t go.”

  Ackerley froze. She spoke. She actually said something to him.

  He leaned up against the hedge. “I’m sorry about the other day. I didn’t mean to offend you or anything.”

  “You didn’t.”

  Ackerley’s mind raced for something to say. “Oh ok.” Surely he could do better than that. “Nice day.” Not much better.

  She glanced over the hedge toward the back porch. “What’s your name?”

  “Ackerley.”

  She stepped around him. “I’m sorry, I have to keep moving.”

  He took that to mean she was tired of him. “Oh, ok.”

  “Come on, but stay low.” She ordered.

  It took Ackerley a few seconds to realize that she was trying to keep evil Madame Thrindle from thinking something was wrong. That nasty woman was probably staring like a hawk to make sure nobody tried anything as stupid as hiding behind the hedges. Ackerley got back to his hands and knees and crawled clumsily along. It probably looked really stupid, but he wasn’t thinking about that at the time.

  “I . . . uh. . . so what’s your name?” He asked.

  “Cerise.”

  Ackerley had heard Yinnib say the name but it sounded so much better coming from her.

  “That’s a really nice name.”

  “Do you have a last name?” She asked.

  “Morzha.”

  They came to the end of the hedge. Cerise paused. Her eyes didn’t waver from the back porch. “I have to go. It was nice meeting you, Ackerley.”

  The princess was out of sight before Ackerley could think of what to say next. He sat back against the hedge and gave a huge sigh of relief. She didn’t think he was weird. She didn’t find him creepy. He dared to think that she might have even enjoyed their small chat. He watched from the last hedge until the princess and the harpy went back inside.

  A few minutes later Ackerley found himself walking through a room he had never been to. He had been so caught up in thinking over the conversation with the princess that he hadn’t paid any attention to where he was going. The room was large and empty. The walls were painted with crude drawings of flowers and animals. It looked to be an old nursery. There were no clues as to who the room might have belonged to. The room echoed years of use. Imprints of furniture still marked the floors. But it held something darker. He felt an acute sadness. It may have been the colorful drawings hidden beneath wear and shadows, or it may have been something more.

  He wanted to go back to how he felt before finding this place; when he still felt giddy over talking to the princess.

  “Ackerley Morzha.”

  Ackerley jumped clear out his skin. He stood completely still, too scared to even look. His curiosity overtook his fear and he slowly turned to where the voice had come from. The person he had seen on the first day, the one with the blue robes who looked down at him from the walkway, stood in the corner of the room. They hid in the shadows, but even that could not disguise that there was something not quite right about their face. Half looked fine, the other half looked . . . he could not make it out in the darkness.

  “I’m not surprised you found this place.”

  It was a woman. She stepped forward, but not enough to reveal the other half of her face.

  “I got lost.” Ackerley mumbled. He wondered how many more times he could get away with that excuse.

  “This castle isn’t the kindest to lost travelers.” She said. Her voice sounded distant.

  “Are you a noble?” He asked, his heart beating rapidly. It knew to get going while his legs forgot to keep up.

  “Not exactly.” Her voice was smooth. It glided through the room at it’s own pace.

  “Then what are you?”

  She backed up into the shadows. “The rarest of all in this kingdom: someone who knows how to survive.”

  Ackerley tried to make out her outline in the dark. “Why are you here?”

  She didn’t answer. The woman vanished among the faded flowers.

  7.

  Sidestep galloped valiantly through the yellowed roads of the Vastlands. Dead wheat filled the landscape. Stalks withered and cracked in the intense heat and blazing sun. No one stayed to tend to the most important crop of Chell. King Chell fought for the wheat, and now his great accomplishment died with it’s people.

  Kenton rubbed his dry red eyes and blinked through the tears that came with the dust. He cursed the Welgo that forced him to get rid of extra weight that included food and goggles. Soon it wouldn’t matter. After several days of traveling and resting in odd towns he finally approached his base.

  A few minutes later it came into view. The great castle rose out of the vast nothingness that this region, and the whole kingdom, was famous for. A few scars of war in the form of a broken tower and blood stained ground formed as a reminder to the effectiveness of the Welgo’s ability to grab and dash. Tents littered the area with hundreds of people of all stripes awaiting word of a new attack.

  Kenton didn’t need to direct his horse. Sidestep went straight to the makeshift stables and the trough for a much needed drink. Kenton slipped off, grabbed the only bag left, and went to the largest of the yellowing tents.

  A large table with maps spread across it had the attention of the handful of soldiers in the tent. Kenton bypassed all of them. He came to a large man with a large beard that sat a few feet back.

  “I have returned, your highness.” Kenton said, getting down on one knee.

  “You’ve been gone too long, Morzha.” The king said with a grunt.

  “I am sorry. I engaged a Welgo. They destroyed a town a day’s ride from Chellion Castle.”

  The king stroked his beard thoughtfully. “My uncle was smart. He built a wall.”

  “Yes sir, but the proximity unnerves me.”

  “Don’t worry about Chellion.” The king grumbled. “Worry about us.” The king glanced at Kenton. “You look terrible. Get some rest. You’re not needed today.”

  “Yes sir.”

  Instead of going to his tent Kenton went into the castle. It looked similar to Chellion Castle except it was much darker and dirtier. There were no janitors to clean up. Everyone who wasn’t directly engaged in the war effort had been sent away to fend for themselves.

  Kenton jumped the stairs two at a time and found a little room with burn marks on the door. Inside he found a war meeting; one of a hundred that took place everyday.

  “Sir.” Kenton said, approaching a thin man with a goatee. “I have a note from your son.”

  Commander Rogerseen glanced uncaringly at the rolled up piece of paper. “Read it, then.”

  “It’s not my place.”

  Rogerseen gave him a stern glare. r />
  Kenton wavered. He carefully flattened out the note. “Dear dad,” He looked up to Rogerseen, who didn’t appear to be paying attention, “I haven’t received a letter from you in a long time. You probably haven’t gotten one of mine either. I’m alright here. The nobles take care of us. We eat alright. I miss home. I know you do too. I miss mom. How is she? How are you? Is the war close to being over? I don’t know if I can stand another year here. I’m not complaining though, I really like it. It’s just not the same. Please send a reply. Jarn. P.S. I’m fourteen now. I know there are some fourteen year olds helping in the war. Can I come out there and help?”

  Kenton rolled the paper and handed it to Rogerseen. The commander didn’t take it.

  “Write a reply, Morzha.”

  “It’s not my place.” Kenton repeated quietly.

  “Just write it. Tell him he has to stay there. I don’t know what the boy’s problem is.” The commander sat down in a chair in the corner and shook his head.

  Kenton turned to leave.

  “Oh, Morzha.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Tell him his mother’s dead.”

  Kenton flattened the paper out again on a desk on the top floor of the castle. He took out a clean sheet and started writing.

  Dear Jarn,

  It was great hearing from you. I am fine. I can’t in good conscious invite you out here. It is very dangerous and I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to you. You are in the safest place in the entire kingdom. I know it’s hard. It’s hard for me as well. The war will end eventually. I hope sooner rather than later. Your mother

  Kenton paused, the pen wavering