First Quest: The Mentalists series Book One

by E. Molloy

  The Undercity, an underground portion of Diamondruf previously purposed for housing the poor and unfortunate out of sight of the nobility, had eventually run dry. Years ago, a ceremony had been held by King Harold in celebration of so many of their residents rising in status beyond the ones they were born into, yet nobody in the city seemed to have actually come from the Undercity. Harold deflected these rumors, reasoning that they must have all sought their fortunes in other places, leaving behind the city that would only serve to remind them of a past life they no longer wished to be tied to.

  The central ring of the city housed the most elite, and of course the Royal Palace towered over all of it. Five stories of glorious white stone with pointed peaks and violet banners streaming from the high windows. The country's banner could be seen posted to every corner of the palace, as well as many shops and residences. It was a long crest in a solid dark purple donning a light blue crested moon with 3 stars completing its circle.

  King Harold was about as large a king as any had ever seen: a walking example of the abundant wealth and food within the city. Standing just less than seven feet tall, every inch of him was basted in the fat of a lifetime of luxury. Alffa hadn't seen war for generations before him, the kingdoms having found peace well before even his father's rule had started. As crowns were passed down, the Kings had grown larger and lazier. This wasn't commonplace among the kingdoms, however, as many kings still trained with their soldiers and were prepared to march into battle with them should the time come. Harold, however, had never seen things that way. He was the king, after all, and how smart would it be for him to charge off with a sword and shield only to die and leave his country leaderless?

  Harold had no sons, and his wife, the late Queen, had died in childbirth of their daughter Lillian. Despite having been offered many young women in his time as king, the man had yet to find a replacement for the queen. After her death, a change had occurred in him. Noticed only by those closest to him, Harold had grown paranoid and removed. Even many of his advisors were relieved of their duties, accused of prying where they weren't welcome.

  While Harold had no interest in Lillian taking over the kingdom, he still had made no move to secure a future for Navarr once he passed. The girl's ideals were far off from his, and she'd expressed on more than one occasion a great interest in things that were better left as is. The poor, of course, were her main appeal. Ensuring that there were no poor within the kingdom was a noble cause, and one that he himself had managed to procure for Diamondruf. However, Harold felt it would be a waste of resources for those who clearly chose to live outside the city's walls and do nothing with their lives. She just didn't understand the world and how it worked.

  The large King sat on his equally large throne, both decked in red velvets and gold-set jewels. A long red carpet trailed from the double-doorway that led into the throne room straight to the boss's feet, which almost never moved. Despite his size, he managed to keep himself upright at all times, beady eyes peering out from over his large brown beard. To his left, a small figure draped entirely in dark grey stood motionless, set behind the throne enough that they seemed nothing more than a shadow. To his right was the court wizard, Ansell, a tall and lanky man with a snow-white beard and big bushy eyebrows that hung lower than his sagging skin. He wore a long blue robe adorned with white sequins, and a large pointed hat that never seemed to stay upright. At each doorway, decorated guards stood at attention, ever ready but never moving unless called upon.

  A hefty fist decorated knuckle to knuckle with rings of all shapes and sizes slammed down on the armrest of the throne. Air huffed from the giant man's lungs and out of his reddened face, causing his red beard to flow forward as if trying to escape the breath. "Where -is- she?" he demanded of anyone in the room who could offer an answer.

  Ansell, the wizard, slinked up beside him, twirling one pale bony hand in his direction. Sparkles flew from his fingertips as he spoke in his high-pitched nasal voice, "It is not so easy to make things reappear once they have disappeared, my lord."

  The king's beady eyes met the wizard's in a dark scowl. "It has been four days. I need to at least know if she's dead or not."

  "Patience, your majesty. All things will be revealed in time."

  He slammed the angry fist down again. "Do not tell ME to be patient, wizard. Your riddles aren't solving anything," he said, waving him away.

  Ansell was smart enough to recognize when his queue to shut up had come, and he bowed at the waist while backing away from the King, eyes to the floor. Harold raised his left hand, and the dark-hooded figure glided up next to him silently.

  "Where is she?" he asked, this time his tone reflecting that it was an order, and not a question.

  Moments passed, and a soft young female voice replied from the darkness, "The Dark Forest."

  "The Dark Forest?"

  The figure nodded. "She is with the Knights' Champion. They are on their way here as we speak."

  "He has slain the dragon?"

  She shook her head. "They fled. The dragon follows, but it cannot reach them until they leave the forest."

  His already mushed together features scrunched up even more as he seemed to be in deep thought. The red on his face remained, but his expression had calmed a little. "What are their odds of survival?"

  "If the dragon finds them, they will not survive."

  "That's not good enough," he said, resituating himself in the seat to be sitting a little more straight. It wouldn't be proper to give an official order whilst slouching.

  "Have they been spotted by anything but the dragon?"

  "Yes. Swamp Rats, and something I cannot see."

  "You can't see?"

  "Its magic hides it."

  He huffed a little. "This needs to be fixed. Forget the dragon for now. You have pawns in the forest. Use them. Go."

  The small woman backed away, and the wizard came to take her arm and lead her out of the room. King Harold, however, remained seated, now slouching and seeming just as angry as before. The wizard led her by the arm silently and with purpose through cold stone hallways, up tight rounds of stairs to the highest peak of the highest tower of the castle. A small wooden door greeted them at the top of the steps, and Ansell grabbed it with one bony hand to let both of them through. The door opened up to an expansive room in the top floor of the tower, filled with tables and shelves that were packed with various scrolls, vials, bottles, and limbs of small creatures. An entire shelf was dedicated to jars with strange liquids in them and miniature versions of perfectly normal creatures, while another held nothing but potion bottles and reagents. A tall circular table rested in the middle of the room with nothing on it but a large glass ball held by a small metal cup.

  Ansell released her arm once they'd gotten up the stairs, then left the room and closed the door behind him as it latched. The door clicked, locked behind her. A small sigh escaped her as she moved toward the center table, pulling up the sleeves of her cloak to reveal pale-skinned arms. She stopped in front of the table, quickly waving a hand over the crystal ball. The dragon appeared in a swirling mess of stars inside the glass. It wasn't flying, though she couldn't determine why. Instead, it seemed to be walking around the outskirts of the forest with labored steps. In the dark, she could see that one of its eyes was shut tight, but only because it wasn't glowing brightly like the other. She twisted her pale wrist slightly, and the image shifted to a young man and the princess. The two were griping back and forth, as was evident by their irritated expressions. The man was tired, dark circles starting to form beneath his eyes, but the princess and the horse both seemed in good shape. She rubbed a gentle finger over the image of his face on the ball, another gentle sigh escaping her.

  With another twist of her wrist, the image changed again, this time depicting a large black wolf that lay sleeping somewhere on the forest floor. One of his ears twitched and he woke up with a growl, looking around. His voice came out forced as if speaking was a burden, as he looked
upward, appearing from the girl's perspective to be looking straight at her. The gruff sound was low, and nearly inaudible. "Why are you watching me in my sleep, witch?" the wolf spoke clearly.

  "There are humans in your woods," she informed him, and a sharp-toothed grin crossed the wolf’s features as he pushed himself up on his muscular legs to stand.

  "How kind of you to inform me," he said, his words laced with sarcasm. "I suppose you want them disposed of?"

  "Bring them to the fairies before the swamp rats reach them."

  The wolf snorted irritably, his grin turning to a snarl. "Swamp rats," he barked, as if the word left a nasty taste in his mouth. A chuckle escaped the creature, a sound that was more akin to a quivering growl. He shook his entire muscular body, and leaves flew all about. "What do I get out of this?"

  She paused, then touched the ball again just beneath his chin. He shuddered a little, feeling the soft touch even at the distance. "My eternal appreciation for your loyalty."

  He let out a long howl, which turned into a yawn by the end of it. His heavy feet began to carry him off as he responded. "Your appreciation means the world to me," he said sarcastically again, chuckling to himself. "This wouldn't have anything to do with that missing princess, would it?" He received only her silence in response, and another toothy grin came to his black lips. "Word travels fast on the planes, lady. I don't know if you realize this, but a wolf will get skinned for conspiring against royalty, so no thanks."

  As the wolf lay back down, a crow flew down to his back, picking at something on the back of his neck. He didn’t respond to the bird. The woman looking into the ball pitched in, "I know of the curse that binds you to those woods. In exchange for your help, I will put effort towards breaking it."

  The wolf paused as he thought over her offer, and then chuckled bitterly. "You'll put effort towards it, huh? Not much of a promise."

  "Is this an acceptable bargain for you?"

  He yawned again, a whine escaping the back of his throat as he did. "Polite pass. No offense, witchy, but you’re small-time compared to the bitch who stuck me here.”

  The small woman sighed. “Then what do you want?”

  His eyes narrowed, and he let out a huff that stirred the leaves beneath him as he breathed. “You leave me alone after this. No watching me, no calling on me for suicide missions, nothing. After this, we’re even for that tiny little favor you’ve held against me for years.”

  “I would hardly consider rescuing you from a hunter’s trap a small favor.”

  The wolf stared into the moon, still appearing to the witch as though he were staring straight at her. After a few moments of silence, she relented. “Fine. This last favor, and then you no longer owe me the debt of your life.”

  “Consider it done,” the wolf growled, standing again. “Don't expect me to hang around once the fairies show up, though. They creep me out."

  She nodded. "Once they are at the lake, your part will be done."

  Giving a solid nod, he turned away from the vision of her he had been watching in the moon and darted off into the woods, the raven removing itself from his shoulders and flying ahead of him. Without so much as a thank you, she removed her hand from its place above the ball, and the glass became clear again.

  Chapter 9

  Daveth was exhausted, and it showed. To make matters worse, Lillian kept pointing out the bags under his eyes, saying he was dumb for being stubborn and staying up all night, and poking the parts of him that hurt the most. He was tired, irritated, and just about fed up with the princess, but he still managed to sit tall on his steed and not fall over from exhaustion.

  The woods grew darker the farther in they went. This was uncharted territory for the Knight, having never been on a true adventure. So far, at least, it had been easy enough, though Daveth was a little worried that he wouldn't get any real sleep until they got back to the palace. The more he thought about how tired he was, the harder it got to stay awake. Just as he was dozing off, risking a sideways tumble off of the horse and onto the rocky ground, Lillian nudged him.

  "Are you sure we're going the right way?"

  "You want to lead?" he snapped back, getting fed up with all of her second-guessing.

  She pursed her lips, her tone mimicking his this time. "I'm just saying that there might be a faster way through here. It's getting really dark, and it can't even be noon yet."

  "It's the Dark Forest. The trees block the sun," he said, waving his heavy arm in the air above them to clarify.

  "It's just...creepy," she said, her voice getting quieter.

  Daveth went silent, trying to gather his next thoughts. It would have been so much easier had his head been on straight when this day had started. "Listen, I'm not going to let anything happen to you, okay?"

  "That's...not very comforting."

  He shook his head. "You know, just because I'm not super tall and muscular and handsome and brave and..."

  "Smart?"

  "...I was going to say charming."

  She shrugged. "That works, too."

  Clearing his throat instead of returning the insults, he went on. "Just because I'm not all of those things doesn't mean I don't have worth."

  "I've seen you fight," she admitted, though her tone did sound a little guilty for even mentioning it. "Not just the dragon, but in the arena."

  He sighed. "I've had training since then, you know."

  "The way you hold your weapons, it doesn't show."

  "The shield," he admitted finally, "It's awkward and bulky. I can get a handle on the sword just fine, but the shield...well, it's taking some getting used to."

  "So you should take it off, then. If you fight better without it, wouldn't it make sense to?"

  "But I'm a...I'm trying to become a White Knight. A Knight is nothing without his shield and shining armor."

  "The only armor that shines is the kind that's never seen combat."

  He thought on this a moment. That was a really good point, he'd never thought of it that way. "Okay, but still. It's a symbol of the Order. If I took it off, how would anyone know I was a Knight?"

  "Well, first off, you're not. That aside, the way I see it you're better off alive in your underwear than dead in your armor."

  "You know, I'm starting to think you just want to see me in my underwear," he retorted, regretting it only moments before her hand slapped across the back of his head. He reached up a heavy arm to rub the spot, as she'd gotten it pretty good, but he was laughing. "Okay, I deserved that." Perhaps if he'd gotten more rest, he would have had more of a filter. Today, knowing that she was a princess didn't seem to change anything.

  Her song-like laugh sounded behind him, and he couldn't help but smile. "So, how did you end up in that tower anyway?" he asked, hoping to turn the conversation away from his own shortcomings.

  "A dragon kidnapped me?" she said, her tone sounding as though she was going to add 'duh' to the end of it.

  "But why?"

  She paused, and then responded predictably, "Because that's what dragons do. They swoop up princesses and take them to the peaks of towers in the middle of creepy scenes, and then a knight comes to save them."

  "I know all that," he said, a little frustrated that she'd stated the obvious but also that he'd asked such a dumb question. "But, that's not what happened. You didn't get saved by a knight. You didn't even wait for me to make it there. I mean, I guess I'm glad you didn't, but why? If you knew a knight was going to come save you, why did you even think to try and escape on your own?"

  She was silent a moment, then responded thoughtfully, "I just didn't feel like waiting for someone that might never come."

  "That's a little sad, don't you think?"

  Her tone changed again, back to her normal attitude. "Well, I think it's a little sad that you're the one who was sent."

  "Well, I think it's a little sad that you're a princess who can't play damsel in distress right. You know, you should be grateful it was me who came to save you. If
Sir Jonathan had been the one to come, he probably would have left you to the dragon once you started talking."

  She was silent back there, and for a moment he felt he had a brief victory. That feeling was crushed at her timid response.

  "Yeah, I guess you're right," she replied, and even Daveth wasn't dense enough to miss the dejected tone in her voice.

  "I didn't mean..."

  "Yes you did. And you're perfectly right. I guess I'm just as bad at being a princess as you are at being a knight."

  There was a pause before his response. "Yeah, I guess so." He laughed a little, although mostly to try and lighten the mood. "Do you want to trade? I think I'd make a splendid princess, and you would probably make a better knight than I do."

  She laughed, "I don't think my dresses would fit you, but we can have the tailor alter them once we get to the castle. My father always did want a son, after all."

  "Oh, that would be fabulous. I have always wondered what it would feel like to be pretty, and now I may finally have my chance."

  Her musical laughter followed his statement, and Daveth felt his spirits rise noticeably. It made him feel surprisingly good to cheer her up. Even though they argued a lot, he could tell she was an impressive woman. She was pretty, smart, clever, and could use a bow better than he could use his own sword. Princess or not, she was a person, too. And for the first time since they'd met, he felt like, maybe, she saw the same in him.

  As they had talked, beady yellow eyes glimmered in the darkness around them. The air smelled wet, and it only got denser the farther in they went. Daveth thought they were getting close to a swamp area, the horse's footsteps growing softer the farther in they went. Neither of them noticed the eyes, though, so close to the ground.