by Chase Erwin
Antareus?!
I whirled around to look in the direction of the lamppost… but nobody was there. I looked to the left and to the right — only a few dozen citizens milling about, minding their own business.
I blinked rapidly a few times.
“Are you alright, Abel?” While Caeden appeared to have carried on without us, Beltrin was several paces ahead of me, a look of concern on his scale-covered face.
“I, uh… I think so.” I frowned. I walked back towards Beltrin and we continued towards the Church District.
✽ ✽ ✽
“You’re sure you’re okay with my doing this?” Remi asked as she drew her dagger closer to my head.
I nodded. This had been needed for some time. “Please carry on.”
Remi drew a concerned breath. “Alright…” she said.
She swiped the dagger with one swift, fluid motion.
A six-inch long ponytail of dirty, tangled hair fell lifelessly to the floor.
“That already feels a lot better,” I smiled as Remi set the dagger down on the table beside me in favor of a pair of small trimming scissors.
“Good!” Remi smiled as she stepped around my chair several times, examining the shape and contours of my head. “I’m not really trained in this, but I’m sure I can get it in presentable shape.”
We spent about ten minutes chatting as Remi snipped at my hair. I let her carry most of the conversation: she spoke about her sister, with whom she didn’t particularly get on well; she talked at length about the longsword she carried with her always, named Stardust, and how it chose to be attuned to her (though in all technicality, she said, she stole it).
“There,” she said, setting the scissors back down. “I think we’re done. You should probably go to the bathroom and at least rinse it out.”
“Good idea,” I said, standing up. “Thanks so much.”
“Sure thing,” she said with a flick of her pink ears.
I crossed to the bathroom and closed the door. Turning on the faucet, I waited for the hot water to come flowing through and looked at the reflection in the mirror. Remi had done a great job. Even with no change to my skin color, having shorter hair made me look much healthier.
I dipped my head into the sink, spooning water over my scalp with my hands. It felt so warm and comforting.
“You’re not safe with them,” said an unnatural, raspy voice behind me.
Jumping, I scrambled to turn off the water and lift my head from the sink. Staring behind me in the mirror’s reflection was Antareus.
He was pale, ashen-skinned, wearing the clothes I last saw him wearing the day he died. The holes in his skin from the acid the Ravens made him drink were still visible, and I could see blackened, decayed muscle inside as he repeated:
“You are not safe with these people.”
An icy chill raced through my veins. “Big brother…” was all I could say.
“They offer you safe harbor, but they are not safe. You are not safe with them.”
“How do you — what are you trying to…”
I blinked as I attempted to ask the question, and when I opened my eyes in that split second, my brother was gone again.
There was a knock at the door, and I jumped, slinging droplets of water against the wall where I had seen the visage of my brother.
Irek opened the door a few inches, enough for me to recognize his face. “You alright in there?”
I shuddered a bit at first, then quickly tried to regain my composure. “Yes, yes, quite,” I said. “Sorry, I’ll be out in just a moment.”
“Make it snappy,” Irek said with a friendly tone. “We need to get you dressed so we can head out.”
“Right!” I grabbed the towel slung over my shoulder and dabbed my face with it.
Irek nodded and shut the door again. When he did, I stopped dabbing the towel, but instead held it over my face, just in case I let out a scream or a sob. But I did neither; I only breathed heavily into the cloth.
I hurriedly threw the towel to the ground and left the bathroom, where I was greeted by Remi and Beltrin with my formal clothes. They turned me to a mirror while they made adjustments. They clearly didn’t notice the bathroom door slowly swinging itself closed, nor the ghostly form of my brother giving me an icily cold stare just before the door latched shut.
4. Guests of Honor
I tried to clear my mind of any thought about the image of my dead brother as we rode a horse-drawn carriage up the trail to O’Hir Castle.
Why was he warning me about my safety? Did he know these people?
We were sitting in silence, cobblestones meeting horseshoes as the carriage gently tossed us left and right. Silver buckles on the straps securing Taryn’s wheelchair clanked against the rims of his wheels.
“What do you all know of the Ravens?” My question cut the silence sharply. Everyone seemed to suck in their breath just a little bit. Eyes darted from side to side.
“There is… a history between us,” Taryn offered carefully. “As a group… and some of us, personally.” His gaze travelled to Beltrin, whose already angled ears splayed back in shame.
I looked at him, trying to make sure my expression conveyed nothing but pure curiosity.
“Before I met the group, I wasn’t the most honest being in the world,” Beltrin said. “In fact, I was fairly dishonest. I stole, I cheated, I cut corners to get ahead.
“And one day, that dishonesty led to me trying to skip out on a loan I had made with someone who ended up being a soldier with the Covenant of the Grey Raven.”
“How much do you owe them?”
“With interest? About 100,000 gold.” Beltrin’s response was both frank and full of embarrassment.
“That's just one of the reasons they have a bounty out for my head,” Beltrin added, rubbing his scaly hands together. “And for the rest of us.”
“Oh,” was all I could manage to say. That explained Antareus’ warning to me. The Ravens already have their eyes peeled for this group. I’m just another one they want.
“We all have our demons,” Taryn mused. “It is up to us how we confront them.”
The group nodded in agreement. “Very true,” Remi said with a small smile. “Well said, milady.”
I blinked. “Lady?” Taryn and Remi nodded, and I blushed. “Taryn, I am ever so sorry; here I was thinking you were male this whole time…”
Taryn smiled wider. “You are both correct,” he explained. “I am what I like to call gendermutual. I appear as whatever gender you see and feel comfortable associating with. Remi, when she first met me, saw a woman, and that is what she always shall see. And she is correct. You, Abel, in the moment you met me, felt comfortable with a male figure in your presence, and that is what you shall always see. And you are correct as well.”
“But, and forgive me if this sounds rude,” I cautioned, “what do you prefer to be known as?”
Taryn looked upward and gave his answer some serious thought. “You may call me he, since that what you see, and Remi may call me she for the same reason. As for who I am, at my core?” He smiled wider. “I am Taryn, and that is all that matters to me.”
The rest of the ride to the castle was in silence, save for the continued pace of the horses, until they whinnied and pulled to a stop outside the gates.
The driver opened the right-side door, and we could hear a crowd milling about and chatting as each guest passed by them on their way to the front doors.
I already felt horribly out of place. Even in school at the culinary college, I was never around a group of more than 20 or 30, and even then, I felt quite shy and scared. Here, there were hundreds standing around, chatting, to say nothing of the group filing one or two at a time past the gates towards the castle.
Caeden leaned towards me as we awaited the rest to file out of the coach. “Just smile, speak when spoken to or when you feel like you have something to say, and you should be just fine,” he said. He must have picked up on my nervousness. �
��Don’t feel like you have to impress anybody.”
I nodded and followed him out. There were fingers pointing from every direction in the crowd towards us. I could hear many questions like, “Who are they?”
“Is he famous?”
“How do they know the King?”
We clustered together and moved along the path to the castle doors as a unit. It was a quarter-mile walk between the two points, and there was an overall sense that none of us quite felt like we belonged at this event.
We were met at the doors by two men in black tuxedos and emerald-green cummerbunds, green being used, evidently, to signify royal staff.
“Names,” one of them queried, his nose high in the air.
“Beltrin Velasco plus five,” Beltrin said.
The other man checked a roster attached to a leather-bound book. “The listing we have here is for a Beltrin Velasco plus four,” he said with a frown. “A Taryn, a Caeden, an Irek and a Remi.”
I tensed up. The awkwardness of the situation plus the embarrassment of being singled out at the castle doors was making me nervous. A hot tingle began to spread across my feet. I willed it hard to stop.
“Ah, yes, we had a last-minute addition to our party,” Beltrin said. “I spoke to Jonathan earlier; he was supposed to have cleared it.”
The man with the roster turned to his partner. “Carstairs. Go double-check with Jonathan,” he ordered. “You should find him watching over the princess’ quarters.” The doorman known as Carstairs nodded and went inside the castle.
“If you would be so kind as to move aside while we sort this out,” the remaining doorman said.
About five minutes passed while we waited for Carstairs to return. I spent that time with my eyes closed, concentrating hard on stopping the magical sensations trying to creep up my body. They slowly faded.
“Jonathan verified the addition, Fry,” Carstairs said, panting as he returned. “We just need to add the name to the book.” The two doormen looked at us.
“Go on,” whispered Beltrin, nudging me slightly. “It’s okay.”
I stepped forward. “Uh, Abel Mondragon,” I whispered nervously.
“Pardon?” Fry spoke at a louder register than he had been, which made me jump a little bit. I repeated my name, a little bit louder, and he scribbled it on the paper.
“Very good,” he said with the last stroke of his pen. “You may all now enter. Enjoy the party.”
We lined up single-file as Carstairs dipped back inside. One at a time, we gave him our name, and he announced us loudly to the crowd now mingling inside the castle’s main foyer. Even with dozens of people already inside, his voice echoed off the walls.
“Beltrin Velasco… Remi Imel… Irek Navience… Caeden Renfield… Taryn Turnipseed… Abel Mondragon.”
There had been a slow mumble as each name was read. I couldn’t tell if it was disapproval or confusion. But when my name was called, there was definite confusion in the tone, along with a few gasps. Clearly, people did know about my disappearance, and had assumed I was dead.
We were each offered champagne in an elaborate cut-crystal glass, and except for Irek, who was a cleric and abstained from alcohol, we accepted.
Remi was attracted immediately to the large string of tables at the far right of the foyer, topped with silver dishes and every kind of food imaginable.
“Ooh, a buffet!” Remi’s eyes seemed as glazed over as the ham she saw steaming from a large silver serving tray. “I know what I’m attacking first!”
Taryn followed the pink Felinial, saying that he worried Remi would take more than her fair share.
The rest of us stayed close to each other as we made our way through the crowd to the back of the foyer. Beltrin said he wanted to see about having a private audience with Princess Enwel, who he seemed to believe could help me with my magic situation, though he didn’t explain further.
To do that, we would have to find Jonathan again. People were free to roam the castle, except in areas that had been cordoned off and staffed by a guard. The double staircase was not cordoned, but as we heard, the princess’ quarters were on the second floor, so that would be where we would find Jonathan.
We only made it to the second step when we were stopped by a voice calling out my name.
“Abel! Is that you?”
I turned to see a rather tall, lanky young man with blond locks trying to make his way through the crowd. He had on a smart blue suit with pearl buttons down the front.
“Ricken? Good heavens!”
Ricken Col and I had gone through the Culinarian Guild’s college courses together and graduated in the top level when we turned 16. We were both equally matched in terms of talent, creativity and speed. We each even had a “cheat” in terms of a magical ability - I had my flame control bracelet, and he could flick his fingers together, almost in a snapping motion, and create a flame on his thumb or fingertip.
I had carried a torch, so to speak, for Ricken ever since I first saw him. It was nothing more than a silly schoolboy crush - he was always flanked by a throng of adoring girls wherever he went. Indeed, as he was trying to rush up to me just then, he had to pull the hands of a trio of fawning females off his arms.
“Abel, let me get a good look at you,” Ricken said when he finally broke free of the girls and got close to us. “I am so glad you are okay.”
“You know about what happened? How?”
“It’s a big city, but people gossip like it’s a small village,” Ricken offered with a shrug. “I’m sure I don’t know the whole story.”
“I’m sure you don’t,” I replied with a sad smile. “But what are you doing here? I mean, I came as a guest, but” —
“Well… I am now the head of the Culinarian’s Guild here in Galek,” Ricken said, a blush slowly creeping up on his cheeks.
“That’s fantastic!” I said. “What—what happened to Signor Battersby?”
Ricken’s face fell a bit as he spoke about our former leader and our favorite teacher. “He had a heart attack, about eight months ago,” he said. “It was very sudden.”
“Damn,” I replied. “What a shame.”
“Yes. But Geoffrey, the head of the Guild in Sinanju, was asked to name the replacement, and… well, here I am!” Ricken smiled and took my hand. My heart skipped a beat, then took a normal rhythm once I realized he grabbed it to shake it.
“I am so pleased you’re here,” he said.
“Well, I’m glad you’re here too,” I said. “I was going to need to talk to you anyway. You see, during the time I was… gone, my membership lapsed, and” —
“Say no more,” Ricken said, holding up a hand. “As far as I’m concerned, you have a lifetime membership. I’ll put the papers through in the morning, and you can pick up your card tomorrow afternoon.”
I smiled wide, the first time I had done so in a very long time — it nearly hurt. “That is wonderful, thank you!”
“Don’t mention it,” Ricken said with a cute smirk that caused a dimple in his right cheek. “Galek — hell, Londolad would be a worse off place without you here to make food,” he said. “Speaking of which, I have to get back and oversee that buffet.”
“Watch out for the pink-haired catlike creature about to take her plate,” Caeden warned. “She eats a lot.”
“To a chef, there is no better compliment than someone who asks for seconds,” Ricken observed.
“Remi goes for fifths,” Beltrin laughed.
“Right,” Ricken said, smirking again, taking the hint. “I better go ensure we have reserves ready. Bye, Abel, great to see you again!”
Within seconds, he disappeared into a sea of enamored girls. I smiled wistfully after him.
“Shall we go find Jonathan and Enwel?” Beltrin said.
“Looks like we must wait until after the King’s speech,” Caeden warned, gesturing upwards to the balconies on either side of us.
On each side, three trumpeters, decked out in green suits, each carrying a four-
foot long silver instrument, began playing a grand fanfare.
We cleared the base of the double staircase and inserted ourselves in the front of the crowd, which had now organized into even pools around the stairs.
King O’Hir was nearly 75, but when he appeared publicly, he was magically able to transpose his features into the way he looked when he was a spry young prince of 25. No commoner had ever been allowed to see him in his true state. His hair was youthful, brown and slicked back. He wore an ermine fur robe with an emerald green and gold pattern around the trim.
