by L. R. W. Lee
Andy grinned at the absurdity of the statement. “Say hi to your mom for me?”
“Of course. She’ll be glad to hear you’re back.” Lucee and Cadfael, Hannah’s parents, had been supportive of Andy’s efforts. “I’m glad you’re back, Andy.”
“Thanks. I am too.” He smiled at Hannah then turned to Alden. “Where are the kitchens? I want to say hi to your mom and everyone else.” Andy’s stomach tensed. He hoped he’d find them all in the condition he’d last seen them and not with bird-like features.
“Say no more. Follow me.”
Marta, Ox, and the rest of the staff enveloped Andy in hugs as soon as he appeared in the kitchen doorway. He sighed with relief when he found what he’d been hoping for. And, as he expected, Marta didn’t allow him to leave before he’d consumed at least three cookies.
All the while Andy’s brain brooded over how to successfully rescue Father.
A buzz of laughter reached Andy as he approached the great hall that evening. He smiled. Their mood sure is different than this morning in the courtyard.
When he entered, someone shouted, “The prince!”
A hush fell and everyone bowed.
“Rise, please.” Unsure what else to say or do, Andy strode toward the head of the long table. On his way, he locked eyes with Hans, the healer on rotation from Cromlech. Hans had been like a second father to Princess Yara, carrying her limp body from the overrun castle and offering final words at her funeral pyre. Andy froze. It was the first time he had seen the man since those life-altering events.
Like new skin being ripped off a festering wound, Andy felt his tender emotions laid bare. The healer mirrored his reaction, and he knew he wasn’t alone. Not caring what anyone thought, Andy rushed forward and threw his arms around the wiry man, burying his face in his bony shoulder.
The room remained silent as the two held their embrace for a good minute. Images of Yara, her eyes closed in death, flashed through Andy’s mind, drawing an avalanche of new tears. When Hans stepped back, both he and Andy wiped their cheeks. “It’s good to see you, Hans.”
“You too, Prince Andrew.” The healer cleared his throat. “I thought I’d cried all my tears, but I guess not.”
Andy sniffed and released a moist chuckle. “Yeah, me too. But I never want to get over her.”
The corners of Hans’s mouth drew upward for half a second and he nodded.
The sound of a nasally voice broke their reunion. “My prince,” Razen intoned, drawing out the words. The bird-man perched atop a stool at the front of the room. “Welcome back.” The corners of the steward’s mouth edged up.
Andy swallowed a retort. He didn’t trust the man who had somehow earned Father’s good graces. Based on his treacherous involvement with Abaddon, Andy didn’t understand why the King trusted Razen. “It’s good to be back and see everyone again.” Andy scanned the room, locking eyes with several servants.
“My prince, please sit here,” the steward directed, waddling over to pull out the seat opposite Mermin’s. He seemed protective of the chair reserved for the King at the head of the table. Stepping back, the vulture-man continued, “There hasn’t been anything to celebrate in a long time—”
Andy forced a smile. Thanks in no small part to you.
“—but Oomaldee’s center isn’t restored every day nor does its prince return. The kitchen staff didn’t have time to throw a lavish celebration, but they wanted to at least put a little something together for you.” Razen flourished an abnormally long arm and directed Andy’s attention down the length of the communal table. Centerpieces of daisies sprouted from heart-shaped salads.
Andy laughed. “How’d you know?”
“We have ways,” Ox bellowed from nearby, winking at Mermin.
Andy covered his confusion. “Thank you all. I’m glad to be back.”
Cheering and whistles erupted. They just needed a little hope restored.
That night, Andy lay staring at the ceiling of his chamber. The royal family’s rooms were on the third floor and could be accessed by an ornate circular stairway.
He couldn’t get over how prim and polished everything around him seemed: No rough-hewn beams. No coarse gray stone. No unadorned sconces. Even the scrollwork carved into the fireplace in his room spoke of refinement.
Father chose to do things differently. But why?
Andy’s stomach tensed as he continued mulling over how to get Father free of Castle Avalon. As soon as Fides detected the King moving—which, based upon the mage’s abilities, Andy fully expected—they’d never get away unscathed.
“Thanks for warning me before you left. I jumped out just in time.”
MiniMe.
“I feel amazing! I spent the last seven months vacationing in the Principal Islands off the coast of Compunction and Scruples. Their morel mushrooms are To. Die. For.” MiniMe chuckled. “But I digress. Andy, you’re taking on the mantle of a good king.”
Am I?
“Absolutely. That speech you gave today came from your heart.” MiniMe sighed, “‘We are as strong as the love we share.’ Andy, you make me proud.”
Andy smiled and let his thoughts return to the challenge of rescuing Father. At length, he asked, “MiniMe, is there a way to plant a message in the whisper stream?” Daisy, the dragon he had befriended after rescuing her several years before, had described the whisper stream as a network higher-level beings—dragons, centaurs, unicorns, griffins, the sphinx, and others—used to communicate telepathically. Humans hadn’t yet been granted access.
“Of course. Frozen innerus are flooding it with chatter all the time. Why?” Andy knew that when Abaddon or his goons turned someone, the act effectively froze their inneru so that everything the person thought or saw was now broadcast to the whisper stream unfiltered. Abaddon used the tactic to keep tabs on Oomaldee.
“But is there a way I could plant a message?” Andy clarified.
“Without being turned? No. Why?”
“Can Abaddon figure out the source of the transmissions he intercepts?”
“Uh…Andy, you’re starting to worry me.”
“Can he?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know what his capabilities are. Why?”
Andy grinned.
“An-dy?”
The conversation was cut short when firelight illuminated a silvery being shimmering by the hearth, its arms crossed. “Must you stick your nose into everything that was mine?”
“Imogenia. Excuse me?”
“This was my room. This is where he did it.”
Andy did not need to clarify the he or the act Imogenia referred to, and the feeling of beetles crawling across his skin made him squirm. The fifteen-year-old Prince Kaysan had murdered his older sister in an unbridled quest for power, igniting the events of the last five hundred years.
“I’m sorry.”
Imogenia glared at Andy.
He sat up. “I didn’t know this was your room. Mermin just told me to take it because it’s next to the King’s.”
Harrumph. Imogenia ran her hands up and down her arms as if chasing away a chill. “Being here gives me the creeps.”
“Well, we agree on that. Look, I can move tomorrow.”
Imogenia stared at the floor just past the end of the enormous bed. “He killed me right there.” She shook her head, reliving the horror.
“I didn’t really want to know that.”
“I’m sure there’s plenty you’d prefer not to learn about your father. Makes it easier.”
“Easier?”
“Sure. You prefer not knowing how evil he is.”
“Evil? He’s told me about his past. He’s learned and changed. I hardly consider him evil.”
“Yes, I’m sure you fancy his story, his version. Have you ever once wondered about my side?”
Andy groped for words, remaining silent as she indicted him with a raised brow. “Exactly.”
“Okay, what is your side of the story?”
“You�
��d really like me to tell you, wouldn’t you? Well, I’m not about to air my vulnerabilities to you. Besides, it doesn’t matter.”
Andy rolled his eyes. “Will you ever forgive him?”
Imogenia’s eyes grew large and she screamed, “Is that all you people think about?” If spirits could slam doors, Andy knew the entire castle would have felt the reverberations as she fled through the wall.
The next morning Andy made a beeline for the training grounds to speak with Regent Cronkar, only to find that unexpected events had delayed him and he wouldn’t be back for a few more hours. The news rankled, but before he had time to sulk further, he spotted a translucent form floating away from him. He raced to catch up.
“Imogenia! I’m sorry for what I said last night!”
The ghost ignored him and vanished through one of the squat towers that marked the four corners of the castle.
Undeterred, Andy decided to go find her. He truly wanted to understand her perspective about Father. Not that it would sway his opinion, but her comment had gotten him thinking. He had never sought out her side of the story, and he felt he owed her at least that much. He easily located the round tower his aunt had vanished into.
Similar to the throne room, the area leading up to the ornate set of doors was an excess of white marble and amethyst, the unmistakable marks of Oomaldee’s royalty. The hulking doors were locked, but he extracted the golden key from his pouch and let himself in.
Sunlight illuminated a circular floor and he stepped to the center. The structure reminded him of the atrium of the Oomaldee’s library, except in place of shelves filled with books, enormous marble drawers with detailed carvings lined the four stories. A railing punctuated each floor.
Andy thought he heard a male voice utter something behind him. He whirled around but saw no one. Methuselah. The blade materialized and extended. The light cast the walls in shadow, making it impossible to see if anyone lurked about. “Who’s there?” Andy assumed a ready position.
When no one answered, he stepped toward the wall of drawers. As he did, he swore he heard a female voice, but a quick scan assured him he was alone. Andy frowned and shook his head. I’m not crazy.
When he heard nothing further, Andy approached. Stopping before one of the drawers, he read the inscription: King Gerrard II, Ruler by a Spear and Defender of the Land. The inscription on the drawer to its right indicated King Mathias I, Mighty Warrior.
“These are burial crypts! They’re the kings of Oomaldee!”
“And queens!” echoed the female voice he’d heard.
“And heirs!” a chorus of voices blended together from above.
“You can put your blade away. No one’s going to hurt you,” murmured another disembodied tone.
Andy held his pose. “I’m not crazy,” he tried to reassure himself. The room turned deadly silent. He retracted his blade with a thought. The action elicited several gasps that echoed in the eerie silence of the marble-lined room.
“Did you see that?” A whispered squeak.
“Could it be?” A hushed tone.
“But how did it come to him?” A low voice.
“Who’s there? Show yourself!” Andy demanded, extending Methuselah once more.
“That would be difficult.”
Andy glanced upward. Emerging from a crypt on the third level, Imogenia floated down and stopped before him.
“Everyone but me, my father, and my mother have gone on. They can’t appear, even in this form.” The ghost waved a pearlescent hand up and down.
“Is that who I’ve been hearing?”
“Yes. Their chatter could wake the dead.”
In a hushed tone, Andy asked, “All the royals of Oomaldee are here?”
Imogenia nodded.
“How can they be here if they’ve gone on?”
The ghost frowned. “You think I know?”
“Good point.”
Andy stepped before the crypt of King Deryk II. A voice startled him: “Well, young man, I hear you’re next in line for the throne.”
Covering his surprise, he asked, “How’d you know?”
“Unless I’m mistaken, that sword is Methuselah, is it not?”
“Yes, but—”
“The sword only appears when significant danger is afoot and to the one worthy to wield it. It’s always appeared to royalty.”
Andy nodded. Father had said as much when the blade first came to him, and the notion had freaked him out. Now he took it in stride.
“If you need any advice, don’t hesitate to ask. I’ll be here.”
“Thank you…Majesty.”
“Look at that, well mannered too,” a lady’s voice crooned from above.
Andy continued around.
“Do you feel ready to rule?” The woman’s voice caught him off-guard and he stopped to read the inscription: Queen Hercalon II.
Andy’s stomach tensed.
“I never did,” she confessed.
Andy scanned the crypt, wishing he could see her face.
“Ruling an entire nation is not easy. I was afraid I’d mess it up and do something stupid that would harm the people.”
Andy’s eyes grew wide. She understands! “I don’t feel ready.” Andy poured out his fears, some of which he’d been afraid to admit even to himself. But as the queen confided more, he realized he wasn’t the only one to feel this way.
“Yak, yak, yak. You’re driving me crazy!” King Mathias IV complained.
“Pay him no mind. He’s an old codger,” King Ferrin II countered.
“Old codger? You’re older than me.”
“We’re all old codgers.”
As Andy stopped before other crypts, his ancestors helped him understand that every ruler has doubts and insecurities. To rule well, he had to press through them and do the best he could.
King Hercalon III encouraged, “Let your heart guide you. If you truly love the people, your decisions will reflect that.”
Andy nodded, trying to take in all of their advice.
The last crypt on the first floor bore the inscription King Hercalon V. No accolade had yet been ascribed. Father. Seeing it made his stomach constrict. Even when I rescue Father, once I break the curse he’ll die. Seeing the plaque made the situation all the more real.
The crypt next to it was blank. “Is this where I’ll—?”
Andy swallowed hard. Eager for a diversion, he asked, “How do I get up there?”
“Spouses are on the second floor, children on the third and fourth. Stairs are that way,” his aunt pointed.
“Thanks.” Andy followed her directions and soon approached the crypt of Acelin, his grandmother. Her translucent form emerged and floated before Andy, adorned in majestic finery. Though Imogenia told him her parents were here, he couldn’t help taking a step back. The woman’s presence was striking.
She smiled brightly and approached, placing an open palm on Andy’s cheek. It felt like ice. “While my husband and I have entered the afterlife, we’ve not yet passed on. We chose to wait with Imogenia until the matter with our son is resolved. Family is important and we feel that we need to see things through. Judging by recent events, our wait may soon be over.”
A heavy feeling filled the pit of Andy’s stomach.
Further conversation revealed her warm personality, reminding Andy of Marta. He knew he would seek her out often.
Andy glanced at the plaque to the right as he finished his conversation with the woman: Queen Emmalee. His stomach lurched. He wanted to close his eyes and pretend Mom would never die, but he knew better. With heart racing, he forced himself to confront the truth. Despite clenching his jaw and forbidding tears to come, they spilled out. He drew his arms across his chest, hugging himself, trying to make the pain lessen. Mom’s still alive. What’s it going to be like when…? He wouldn’t let himself finish the thought. He already knew. Yara’s ache, the one that ebbed and flowed its constant company, tapped his shoulder.
It took several minutes but A
ndy finally collected himself, exhaling loudly and drying his face.
“They’ll help whenever you need advice,” Imogenia said, appearing next to Andy. “They’re a very supportive family—even though we don’t always see eye to eye.”
Andy wrinkled his brow. “You don’t see eye to eye?”
Imogenia frowned. “Being dead doesn’t change their opinions. My father and I—” Imogenia considered. “No, I’m not going there. Not right now.”
“You said your father’s still visible? Where is he?”
“Yes, but what—?”
Andy headed for the stairs. He quickly located Hercalon IV, his grandfather, and once the sovereign’s silvery form emerged, he asked, “I don’t know if you know, but your son is currently sitting in the dungeon at Castle Avalon and is being tortured by Abaddon.”
“Yes.” The monarch’s voice dropped and he grimaced.
“It’s horrible!” chimed in another voice.
“Never have we felt so helpless,” growled yet another.
Andy’s eyes fell on Father’s empty crypt. “I must rescue him! So I need your advice. I can get through that dome Abaddon erected over the island, but he has Fides—a powerful mage even before dark forces kidnapped him and turned him into a black wizard. He’s going to know I’m there. Once I get my father out of the castle, I need a way to get him back here without being attacked. What do you suggest?”
Deafening silence was the only reply. As it became uncomfortable, Andy’s grandfather spoke: “Ruling stretches a person beyond what he or she ever thought possible. Many times you find there are no easy answers. Despite your best efforts, and even though you seek out the knowledge of those who have gone before, you still don’t know what to do.”
“Like right now,” Andy remarked, his stomach tensing.
“Like right now,” the ghost confirmed. “You have no idea how much we want to help, but as you can see, we don’t know how to counsel you. While I know that doesn’t help, I’m confident it won’t always be this way.”
Andy felt the crushing weight of uncertainty press down on him. He wasn’t convinced his idea to infiltrate the whisper stream would work. But with no other ideas...
