Of Heroes And Villains (Book 4)

by Julius St. Clair

  Bastion’s eidolon was unlike many of the others. It didn’t take on the representation of another blade. It was alive. The hilt was small, just barely sticking out over his closed fist. It appeared to be made of cherry oak, but the surface of the eidolon itself was like water. It was fluid, and rapidly changing shapes. In one instance, it was a miniature wave of water—suspended in mid-air, then a scythe, then a whip, and lastly, it became a long sword, stretching over four feet long in length. His mother didn’t know what to make of the spectacle.

  “How is that your eidolon?” she asked, but he just stared at it like he was seeing it for the first time.

  “It just is,” he said.

  “But it doesn’t make sense.”

  “Sadly,” Bastion sighed. “This is the only thing I understand. What you do with your life…that’s what doesn’t make sense to me. Anyways, I don’t care what you do. We can all choose to suffer if we want to. Or we can do something about it. I’m tired of suffering. I don’t want to fight you anymore. I just want to live here with you and Papa, and be happy, and visit the village and get a job. Maybe buy a few things. Not much. I just don’t want to fight anymore.”

  “You don’t have much of a choice,” she said. “If I attack you, you have to defend yourself.”

  “Not anymore,” he said. “Go ahead. Attack me.”

  She hesitated at first, staring at the long sword curiously. He knew what she hoped for—that he would cut her down and rid of her the misery that was her life. But he wouldn’t. It was her choice to be in it, and it would be her choice to get out. He wouldn’t do the dirty work for her. As long as he could start living his life, it didn’t matter what she did.

  She smirked when she noticed the saddened expression in his eyes, the quivering of his lips and the sweat on his brow. He had no intention of striking back. She lunged forward, aiming straight for the middle of his forehead, but Bastion shifted the sword in his hand, so that the surface of it was in the way. The tip of her eidolon jabbed into the surface of his.

  And then the tip was gone.

  There was nothing she could do to stop what was to come. She was already in mid-lunge. All she could do was watch in horror as her rapier eidolon, piece by piece, shattered upon impact into his. As the flesh of her fist hit the surface, with nothing but the hilt still in her hand, she lost consciousness. Bastion made no move to catch her. He just stared at the sword in his hand, unmoving, expressionless, and resilient.

  He had been afraid to unsheathe his eidolon before because his power would have been too great. If he had sparred with her, there was no telling what would have happened, and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt her.

  He sheathed his eidolon and reached down to pick her up. He didn’t want her in the dirt when she awoke. It wasn’t fun down there.

  Chapter 2 – The Order of Things

  James closed his eyes and yawned, and Catherine immediately punched him hard in the arm. Clearing his throat and sitting up straight, he flashed a cheesy smile at her. Her frown said that she wasn’t amused, but he knew better. She could never hide the shine in her eyes. Her eyes had their own silent language. They said that with a little more push, a little more tantalizing—she would crack under the pressure. Before the day was done, he would have her guffaw echoing up and down the halls.

  He turned away from her so that she could gather her thoughts. After every decision she was very introspective, questioning if the decision she had made was the best option. It visibly took its toll on her, so at the end of every day, James made it his mission to relieve some of the tension, no matter how much Queen Catherine fought it.

  He cast his gaze before them. Everything was so spacious and gorgeous. The Prattlians had done a fine job with designing the blueprints of the new castle, and the Langorans had chipped in with their massive size and strength to ensure that it was built as quickly as possible. Every Queen needed her castle, he supposed.

  Before, the castle had been a little dark and gloomy, with a labyrinth of narrow halls and excessive rooms. Most of those rooms were now gone. Many of the walls had been knocked down and the candles were extinguished.

  Tower high windows and wide open spaces were placed in their stead, letting the sun become the sole light throughout the day. It illuminated everything, from the throne room to the dining hall—the two largest rooms in the entire building. The throne room was the first thing visitors saw as they came through the massive, wide open entrance. It was a wide and grand hall with pillars made of polished white stone, leading up to where the Queen and her husband sat, side by side in throne chairs far too big and wide for their bodies. It was there that the people came to Queen Catherine for the answers to their problems. Nervously, they would enter the throne room, but those fears were slowly put to rest with every step they took toward the Queen. The throne room was no longer a place of dark judgments and unseen, superior beings. It was now inviting, and warm.

  Small gardens, flowerbeds and fountains had been placed throughout the castle, adding beauty to the already luxurious décor, and Catherine’s heartfelt smile was always in attendance. Silk purple and baby blue banners hung down from the tall ceilings, and bronze statues stood vigil in the corners—depictions of the great warriors that had passed away during the Stone Era. If the décor didn’t put the villagers at ease, the statues certainly did. It reminded them of the peace that still permeated the air, and not the crippling anxiety that had once ruled their lives.

  James studied the statues from a distance, as he did from his throne chair every day.

  Chloe. Kyran. Scarlet. Achan.

  They had now been out of his life for a month shy of five years. And there was not a single day that passed in which he did not think of them. They had shaped him into more than he had ever hoped to become, and he believed that each of them had found peace.

  “You can bring in the next one,” Catherine said authoritatively, opening her eyes. Talia, a short Sage with mouse-like features, nodded from the bottom of the four foot high throne platform. The wooden platform, painted in baby blue, was placed in the back of the throne room, with a set of tiny stairs built into the middle of it, so that the Queen and her husband could step off easily.

  Talia motioned for the guards standing by the entrance of the castle to proceed.

  “You look tired,” James said, with a sly grin on his face. Catherine pointed at him without looking his way.

  “Don’t you start.”

  “Start what? I didn’t do anything yet.”

  “Just leave me alone,” she giggled, tucking her lips in. She was trying not to laugh. He figured that was why she kept facing forward.

  “Why won’t you look at me?” he asked, leaning toward her in his chair.

  “You know why. Last time I looked at you, I was in the middle of giving a serious answer to that poor woman. She thought I was laughing at her!”

  “Well, it was funny. It’s not every day you hear that someone’s house was just a manifestation. Imagine, paying all that rent in goods and then poof! Your house up and disappears because the Sage decided to end the joke. I don’t even know how someone was able to do it. They must have had accomplices. You know, change shifts when the tenant was asleep. Are we still looking for the landlord?”

  “Don’t try to change the topic,” Catherine chuckled. “It was a joke that lasted a whole two months. That’s ridiculous.”

  “But I notice you didn’t say it wasn’t funny.”

  “It was probably you,” she said, finally facing him. It was all he needed. Eye contact.

  “It was me,” he said, giving her a mischievous smile. Catherine shook her head and snickered but he wasn’t finished with her yet. If he didn’t keep it going, she would remember her duties again. “I swindled that poor old lady out of her money. I figured that I could take it and buy a house in the countryside. A perfect place to take a Queen hostage.”

  “You would kidnap me?” Catherine said in false shock, placing a hand to her c
hest.

  “The plan is already in motion. Now you can come with me quietly and you won’t be hurt, but if you try anything. If you try warn anyone…I can’t promise that I’ll be good.”

  “Oh, so you’re a bad boy now?” Catherine said with a gleam in her eye. “Is that it?”

  “The absolute worst,” he winked.

  “You do know that the stones of power have been destroyed, right? There’s nothing to gain from kidnapping me. I hope you don’t expect a ransom from the people. They would rather come at you with their eidolons than negotiate with an enemy. It appears you’ve come a few years too late, good sir.”

  “I don’t care about the Sages. Everyone’s a Sage nowadays. I can handle them.”

  “But can you handle me?” she said, leaning forward in her chair. Her lips were dangerously close to his, but he refused to look at them. He waited for his moment to strike.

  “What’s so dangerous about you?” he said, leaning in even closer.

  “I bite,” she said, a smirk escaping from her steel resolve. “You mess with me, and you’ll get hurt.”

  “You wouldn’t like the taste,” James said, parting his lips. “Besides, what is a woman like yourself doing biting people? That’s not what your mouth or lips are for. You’re doing it all wrong.”

  “And you would know how to do it right?”

  “I’ll have you know that I have it down to an art.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “I could show you.”

  “You have one chance to convince me. If you can do that, I’m yours.”

  James struck just as a cough interrupted the moment. He ended up catching the turning cheek of Catherine’s face instead.

  “I apologize,” Catherine said to the visitor, as James sulked back into his plush seat. The man standing before them was husky and middle-aged, with a wool poncho hanging over his shoulders. He rubbed his throat as his gaze went back and forth between James and Catherine.

  “I apologize if I am intruding,” he said in a raspy voice. “The guards told me to enter.”

  “No, I’m at fault,” Catherine replied. “My husband and I don’t get much time alone, so we take advantage of it whenever we can.”

  “I see,” he said, rubbing his hands together and glancing over to the left to avoid eye contact.

  “What is your query?”

  “It’s the Prattlians,” he sighed nervously. “I understand that they have free reign in our Kingdom, as the Langorans do, but surely they would be more comfortable debating in their own streets and not ours.”

  “Are you saying that their speech is offensive?”

  “No, it’s just that they debate far too much in public. I’ve recently opened an experimental shop in which I sell meals composed of Terr. People are already wary of the product. I don’t need a host of Prattlians screaming at each other in front of my building. They’re scaring everyone away.”

  “Or maybe it’s the Terr,” James muttered under his breath. Catherine did her best not to snicker. Who would want to eat a creature with the body of a lion, the neck of a snake and the face of a bear?

  “I will have my men look into it,” Catherine said, as serious as she could.

  “That’s it? You’ll look into it?” the husky man raised his eyebrows.

  “The Queen has spoken,” James retorted. “You don’t get to question—“

  “—it’s okay, James,” Catherine said. “He can speak freely. What do you suppose I do, sir?”

  “Kick them out,” he said flatly.

  “You do understand why I won’t do that, don’t you?”

  “But it’s our kingdom.”

  “Exactly,” she said, standing to her feet, and beginning to address more than just the man before her. “It is our kingdom. This is not just Allay, Langour or Prattle. It is all three. This particular area is just called Allay to avoid confusion. When we go next door to the rebuilt kingdom of Prattle, it is not just Prattle. It is all of ours. We do not create barriers between us. That was the Stone Era, that was how war was born, and that was how the ether came to be. So now you ask me to get rid of the Prattlians. I will not. I may build a designated debating area to encourage them to move there. I may ask them politely to take their talking elsewhere, but I will not force them.”

  “When the people of Allay elected you,” he scoffed. “We thought you would keep us safe from the other Kingdoms, not excuse them.”

  “I have said my peace. Guards, please excuse this man from the castle.”

  “I’ll excuse myself,” he snapped, turning around and heading out. James rose from his seat to give chase, but Catherine patted his chest, holding him back.

  “He shouldn’t speak to you like that. And imagine if he starts talking bad about you to the people.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Catherine said, staring off into space. “Even if the people decide they want someone else to rule, I can’t say that I didn’t have a comfortable reign of five years. I knew these days would begin to come regardless. They are used to me. Someone new would be more exciting.”

  “But you’re the best one for the job,” James retorted.

  “If the people are discontent, I certainly can’t make that claim.”

  “Queen Catherine,” Talia said, approaching the throne. “There are a couple more that want you to hear them out. If you are willing.”

  “Send them in,” Catherine replied wearily. “But just these two.”

  James didn’t bother trying to cheer her up this time. All he could think about was the husky man. From what it sounded like, he would be happier in the Stone Era, where there were nothing but Allayans on the streets. But then where would he be? No one would even think about going to his shop because they would be too afraid of the entrees. The Kingdom had been on constant alert, everyone was an enemy, and Allayans were on the Terrs’ plate, not the other way around. How had they forgotten the good times so quickly?

  “Your Highness,” Seeker bowed, his long priestly robe, bathed in purple, flowed behind him like a bride’s veil. “I seek your counsel.” He lifted his head, covered in long white hair, and smiled with his vibrant blue eyes.

  “You seek it every day,” Catherine laughed. “What brings you here this afternoon?”

  “As you may have heard, I have recently been appointed next in line for Order Master.”

  “Congratulations.”

  “It’s a heavy burden, but the reward is far more than I could have ever dreamed. The people that I could assist and lead to the way of righteousness—it gives me goose bumps.”

  “So is that why you’re here? To discuss whether you should accept the position?”

  “No, I’m sorry,” he said, bowing again. “My presence in your court is because I currently have a quarrel with the Langoran Order. Ever since the creation of the Orders three years ago, they have been trying to alter our creed, and our current Order Master, bless his soul, has been very cordial in accommodating the ‘brutes,’ his words, not mine. I am here to say that if I take the position of Order Master, I will not be as kind. However, I also do not want to upset our reverent Queen. I seek your wisdom. Personally, I believe wholeheartedly that each Order should maintain and uphold their beliefs and the culture of their respective people, but they should not seek to change the ideals of others. The Langoran Order should stay in Languor. Am I wrong?”

  James burst out laughing, and Seeker’s alarmed eyes fixed upon him.

  “What is so funny, Master Sage, if I may ask?”

  “Just that we hear this kind of complaint every day. The Orders—always at each other’s throats. Did you already talk to Master Torill about your intentions?”

  “I am here to speak with the Queen, good sir.”

  “This is the one point in which I get to have my say,” James said, leaning forward in his throne chair. Catherine nodded in approval. “The Queen has asked me and Arimus to keep a taut leash on the Orders, so that there is still peace among us. A little conf
lict and opposition is healthy, especially so we don’t end up thinking too highly of ourselves, but it’s supposed to stay at exactly that: a little conflict. The individual Orders were created to promote alternative thought, not pigeonhole the people into one way of thinking.”

  “You assume much, Master Sage,” he smiled. “The Allayan Order—“

  “—is just like the other two Orders. The only underlying theme is that each of you think that you have the solution to how we should handle the United Kingdoms. The world is far more complicated than you can claim to know. I’m sure you’ve read of Thorn?”

  “Who hasn’t?” Seeker muttered.

  “That man—that Allayan—nearly destroyed us all, and took our souls in the process. The former King of Allay nearly brought everyone to ruin for his own selfish goals. Now, did anyone question his motives in the beginning? No. Everyone believed that because he was the King, he knew what was best, and we were wrong. The people of Allay placed their faith in the wrong person, and many lives were lost as a result. So you can talk all you like, but what I’m saying is, in order to convince the people that your Order speaks the truth, not a truth, but the truth? You are going to have to fight for their trust as well as ours. We were fooled once. Not again.”

  “If the Langorans are to stay in Allay, then I will say this. I will not be merciful when it comes to what I have to say. My denouncement of their Order will be harsh and sharp. I am sure they will respond in kind. Is that a more desirable solution than a separation?”

  “As long as you remember who holds the end of the leash,” James said. Seeker smiled and nodded at him, then at Catherine. He left of his own accord.

  “Perhaps we should speak with the Order Master,” James grumbled, but Catherine shook her head.

  “We promised not to thrust ourselves unnecessarily into their affairs. If Seeker is to be the next in line, then it is not just what their Order wanted, it is the people’s choice as well.”