Also, the front gate—with its replica of the full moon attached on top—looked the same as it always did. A tall wrought iron fence surrounded the mansion on every side. It brought back the sweetest of childhood memories, that fence did, such as the time that mine brother and I attempted to climb over the fence when we were younglings, only for us to fall due to the sleekness of the bars. That had been the most painful day of mine young life, yet I now look upon the memory as fondly as a mother looks upon her children.
But despite how well-taken care of this place looked, I dread approaching it. For I did not only have sweet childhood memories associated with mine home; nay, I had more recent memories, the kind that I did not wish to remember, which left a sour taste on mine tongue and left my soul blacker than the heart of an arctic vampire.
Memories of fear, searching for my missing sister … memories of anger, arguing with my brother, even punching him in the face, which 'twas a terrible memory I worked to forget, though I never truly did … and memories of shame, memories of stomping out of that mansion and vowing never to return to this place or gaze upon the face of mine brother again.
But here I was now, striding up to the wrought iron fence, up the same path I had walked up and down on from the earliest days I could walk. The Old Gods can be humorous at times, setting aside our fates to go against our own vows. 'Twas probably the reason why mine parents always warned my siblings and I against making rash vows to the Old Gods, for they would be certain to test the truthfulness of those statements that we make in the heat of passion and anger.
I expected the gate to be locked, which would not be much of an issue as I could open it even without a key. Yet when I approached it and pressed my fingers against the cold metal, the gate swung open silently and without resistance.
This did make me hesitate. My brother, Sura, who as far as I knew still lived here, never left the gate unlocked before. This did make no sense to me. Sura was as predictable as a clock, always locking the gate when the last vestiges of the sun set and always opening it when the first rays of the sun peek over the horizon in the early morn.
Granted, the sun was indeed rising, yet this gate did not appear to have been unlocked and opened by my brother. Nay, I noticed the lock lying on the pathway, smashed off by some unknown force. This did leave me uneasy and afraid; nonetheless, I pushed the gate open entirely and stepped within the fenced area.
The front yard of the mansion looked as well-kept as the rest of mine old home. The square bushes, planted by my father even before I was born (Sura had been but a year old when they were planted), stood against the house 'neath the front windows on the first floor. The grass was trim and cut, with nary a place for any enemies or predators to hide from me.
On the right side of the yard was the full moon-shaped birdbath, which was as dry as the Dead Lands, another alarming sign to me, because brother Sura loved the tiny red wings and the sometimes large skiplegs that often came for a drink and a bath. Why would mine brother ever forget to refill the birdbath? Did make no sense to me, especially when I noticed how well-kept the rest of this place was.
The left side of the yard had the headstone of our parents, a beautifully-crafted piece of masonry again shaped like the moon when it was full in the sky. I saw nothing strange about it at first until I noticed … nay, that could not be …
I walked up to the headstone, ignoring the text written upon it, mine eyes focusing squarely on what I thought at first was an illusion, but which now I cannot deny. Just above the name of my father—FARIL, carved in large block letters—was the tiniest chipped area.
I took notice of this aberration—nay, this crime against my parents' memory—because Sura had always taken care of this headstone with great pride. Every day, after his morning duties, brother Sura would go out to this headstone and painstaking clean it, brushing out each carved letter and washing away the grime and dust which gathered upon its surface. He would even cover it with three thick woolen blankets when it hailed so as to prevent it from being damaged.
This terrible sign confirmed what I feared: Something had happened to mine brother, something that had prevented him from doing his usual duties. It had to have happened very recently, perhaps as recent as last night, for the rest of the mansion still appeared in good shape.
Hence, I drew mine skyras sword from my belt. 'Twas currently inactive, but I felt the tab I could press to make it flare to life, which I rested my thumb upon so I could use it in a pinch. I hoped to the Old Gods that I would not need to, that maybe brother Sura had been stricken with some illness that had left him bedridden, but this seemed not to me like that was the case.
Advancing toward the front door of the house, mine eyes flicker to the shuttered windows. Perhaps they were not shuttered so as to protect mine brother's privacy, but instead were shuttered to hide the evil villain who had dared to harm him. Who this was, and why they did this, I knew not; however, mine instincts told me that this must still be here, and therefore I could not let mine guard down for even a moment.
The front door of the mansion 'twas one of the few things on the house which brought me no early memories, for the old door had been replaced by a new door after it had been destroyed due to an accident I no longer recalled (although it must have been humorous, for even in this grim situation, it nearly brought a smile to mine face).
The front door looked not broken open, but I knew, from a brief alliance with a thief sometime ago, that there were ways to pick a door's lock without it appearing that it was so. When I wrapped my hand around the smooth wooden doorknob and turned it without effort, I knew someone had indeed picked it.
Yet I had no choice but to go inside if I wished to find out what happened to my brother, so I pushed the door inwards, still holding mine skyras sword at mine side. 'Twas prepared to fight to the death if necessary, for no one was allowed to harm any member of mine family, even family members I am on no good terms with.
When I opened the door, I was greeted by a familiar sickening smell: The stink of the popular drug known as super speed, which smells like smoke and mud. I recognize the stink because I was one a dealer of the super speed drug between the time I left home and the time I became a Knight of Se-Dela. 'Tis a stink ye never forget, for there is an addictive quality to it even to those such as myself, who never became addicted to the drug which we sold to the poor souls who devoured it like candy.
This alarmed me greatly, for brother Sura never used super speed drugs. As a priest of the Old Gods, Sura was forbidden to use any sort of drug that might affect his clear mind and good judgment. Did seem unlikely to me that my brother would ever even allow a user into this mansion, even if that user were a homeless and wounded traveler with no family with which to stay.
The entryway was almost pitch black, though I caught a whiff of a nearby candle that had been put out somewhat recently. Still, I did not need light to find mine way around, for I knew this mansion like the back of mine hand. I knew that to my right 'twas a wooden rack, built by our father years ago, for our shoes, under mine feet was a carpet meant to catch the mud and dirt on the soles of my shoes, and a coat rack was to my left opposite the shoe rack. I also knew that directly ahead of me was the foyer, with the stairs leading up and up to the upper floors and doors along the hall that led to other rooms.
Yet I hesitated, my hand still upon the doorknob, mine eyes scanning the shadows for even the tiniest hint of danger. The light from the sun outside illuminated the entryway enough to show me that there was no one waiting in hiding to kill me. Even so, the mansion was eerily quiet, even for Sura, who while not as boisterous as I, still made much more sound than was present in this place.
Should I leave? Or call for help? Kiriah had given me a messenger device, which currently was in my left pocket, to use to contact nearby Reunification members in case of an emergency. 'Twas a useless little thing, for I despised most Xeeonite tech, but as with mine skyras sword, I had taken it because Kiriah had insisted I take it.
On the other hand, however, I did not need think I needed aid. While Sura's disappearance was troubling, I saw no sign to suggest that many beings have invaded our home. At most, three villains may have ambushed my brother in his home, and I was more than capable of handling three villains on my own, no matter how tough they may be.
So I gently closed the door behind me, without saying a word, and then advanced slowly toward the stairs. Mine instincts suggested that Sura was likely in his room on the second floor, which was usually were he breakfasted. Besides, I did not smell the scent of cream and bread that my brother usually ate for breakfast every morning. All I smelt was the stink of super speed, which made me all the more eager to reunite with mine brother.
With every step I took, I fully expected to be attacked by whomever had came here, although nothing emerged from the darkness to injure me. It occurred to me that it was possible that whoever had assaulted mine brother was already long gone, but that did not seem likely to me. If that were so, I would have heard Sura calling for help or demanding to know who had entered his house.
Nay; whoever had assaulted mine brother was still here. Perhaps they were not on the first floor, but that did not mean I had the luxury of letting my guard down. My foes likely expected me to walk in as mindless as a toad, though they underestimated mine intelligence and tenacity for sure.
Whenever I passed a door, I would press mine ear against its surface and listen as closely as I could. Every time, I heard nothing at all on the other side of the door, which made this action of mine seem fruitless, although I continued to do it anyway just to be thorough.
Soon, however, it became abundantly clear to me that this first floor was abandoned. I was the only being down here, no doubt, which meant that I would need to climb the stairs to the upper floors in order to find my brother.
As silently as I could (though 'twas likely a fruitless gesture, seeing as my foes above probably already knew I was here), I climbed the stairs, which creaked not under my weight, for these stairs were sturdy and had withstood the pressure of three rambunctious young children for three full decades without breaking. Like with the rest of this mansion, I had fond memories of these stairs, but I could not focus on them at the moment, for I could not afford to be distracted when there was danger in this house.
After every step, I paused for a brief second to listen for the sounds of anyone above. I heard nothing, which did not reassure me much at all. Nay, it succeeded only in increasing my anxiety and tension, for I was now beginning to wonder if Sura were alive at all. I wished Kiriah were with me; as my sister, she always knew how to calm my fears, although I knew that as the Leader of Reunification, she had many important issues to deal with while I was away and therefore could not come with me even to see our older brother again.
Soon, I reached the top of the stairs, which opened out onto the second floor hall. 'Twas slightly lighter up here than it was done there; a handful of tiny candles, which smelled like blueberries, lit the area, although not enough for me to tell if any adversaries of mine lurked within the shadows.
Then I heard a loud thump and I immediately jumped. I also pressed the tab on the handle of my skyras sword, causing its blade made of skyras energy to extend into existence. I looked around hurriedly, but see nothing that could have made that sudden thump. Although it at least confirmed that I was not alone in this mansion, that there was someone—or, may the Old Gods forbid, something—in here with me.
The glow of my skyras sword revealed to me a little more than the candles did. Opposite me was the self-portrait of mine father, Faril, wearing his pure white priest robes of the Old Gods, while carrying the Divine Books within his arms. He looked young in this portrait, which made sense, seeing as this had been painted years ago, when I was only a small child, but even so, his gentle black eyes looked the same as when I was grew older. Mine own mother, in fact, always used to say that my father's eyes never aged, which I now understood for perhaps the first time in my life.
But again, I returned mine attention back to my surroundings. I decided to check the second floor, seeing as that thump I heard earlier seemed to come from somewhere around here. Where, of course, I knew not, but I was prepared to fight if the villains who hid in the shadows should dare to show their ugly faces.
Hence, I went down the hall, in the direction I heard the thump come from, mine skyras sword at my side and glowing, which I decided to keep active in case the villains who had broken into mine brother's house were awaiting me in ambush.
I made my way down the hall slowly but surely, listening for any sound that would tip me off to the presence of my enemies. Unfortunately, I heard not a sound aside from mine own breathing and mine heart beating away inside mine chest, sounds which sometimes seemed to fill mine ears like an exploding cannon ball.
Then I heard another sound, one that did not come from mine own body. 'Twas the sound of someone's weight shifting, as if they had been standing in place for too many hours. Did sound like it came from a door on the right side of the hall, only a few feet ahead of me. The sound ceased quickly enough, but I made my way up to the door because I knew that that was where it came from.
I placed mine hand on the handle, but did not turn it immediately. Instead, I listened closely, as closely as I could, for any other sound on the other side. I knew not, after all, who might be waiting behind this door, whether he be friend or foe, although like before, I heard nothing at all.
Still, I could not afford to turn and leave, not so soon, so I took a deep breath, made certain that I was holding mine sword as tightly as possible, and then turned the knob and entered.
This room was well-lit in comparison to the rest of the mansion. Light from several candles illuminated the room, their combined light so bright that I had to blink several times to allow my eyes to adjust to the change in brightness. When they did, mine heart nearly failed me by what I saw.
There, on the other side of the room, sat mine brother Sura, his arms and legs bound tightly to the wooden chair he sat upon. His head rested upon his chest, making it impossible for me to see his face, although his long brown hair was messy and torn in a few places, which worried me greatly.
Brother Sura was not alone, however. Standing around him were a dozen of the deadliest-looking criminals I had ever seen in mine life. They were a motley crew—some elves, some dwarves, others human—but a fearsome one nonetheless, for each member had one red skyras ring on his index finger, rings which identified them as belonging to the Red Ring Smugglers.
I raised mine skyras sword, but then someone from behind who I could not see pushed me forward. Startled, I staggered forward in an attempt to catch my balance, but as I did so, I heard the door slam shut behind me. When I regained my balance, I looked over mine shoulder and saw that the door was closed and likely locked as well. This meant I had no avenue of escape, for there was no other way out of this room save for that door.
Yet I did not allow this to panic me, even though internally I cursed these criminals to the Old Gods for their treachery. Instead, I held my skyras sword close, in the way Sir Lockfried trained me to wield mine weapon in the face of numerous enemies, as I turned to face the Smugglers again.
“Foul criminals,” I said, making no effort to hide the hatred and distaste in my voice. “Unhand my brother, or be prepared to live the rest of your rotten lives without your index fingers.”
One of the smugglers stepped forward. 'Twas an elfish woman, with long blonde hair done in elven braids and a short elven blade sheathed at her side, but despite her beauty, I knew her well enough to see the evil lurking within her pitiless soul.
“Apakerec,” said the elvish woman, flashing a smile at me, although I knew she was not happy to see me. “Long time, no see.”
I gritted my teeth, for I remembered well this wicked woman and was not fooled by her friendly tone of voice. “I wish it had been longer, Orelia.”
She did not look much offended by my words, although
when she spoke, she placed her hands over her heart and put a show of pain. “I am hurt. You and I used to be so close when you were a Smuggler. Don't you remember? I even recruited you into the organization.”
“On the basis that ye could help me find my long lost sister, ye wench,” I snapped. “Which, I will remind thee, ye failed to do. All ye had me do was break the law and operate under the cloak of secrecy in order to keep the Knights of Se-Dela from arresting ye, which they had every right to do.”
Orelia's hands fell to her side and a sneer appeared on her face. “Right. I forgot how stupid you sound when you talk. You sound like you just walked out of an ancient storybook.”
“I speak the High Tongue of mine forefathers,” I replied, “which I have inherited along with mine brother and sister.”
“The High Tongue.” Orelia laughed. “I notice how you use 'my' sometimes instead of 'mine.' Not very consistent, are you?”
“'Tis due to the influence of outsiders like ye,” I said, somewhat shamefully. “Otherwise, I would speak a more perfect version of the High Tongue.”
“Sure,” said Orelia with a smirk. “Anyway, I am happy to see you, Apakerec. No deception here. After all, if you hadn't come here today, all of this planning and taking your brother hostage would have been for naught.”
Mine eyes flickered over to Sura, who still had not moved so much as one inch in his seat. He was so still that I almost feared that he was dead, although when I noticed his chest rising up and down slightly, I was reassured that he was in fact alive.
“Why did ye attack my brother?” I asked, returning my attention to Orelia. “He has nothing to do with ye. He is a noble priest of the Old Gods. Attacking a priest of the Old Gods is a grievous offense for which swift justice must be performed in order to correct it.”
Orelia smirked. “You didn't sound so defensive of your brother when you told me about him. In fact, you were quite angry about him, if I recall correctly. Angry enough to say awful things about him that you probably would not want repeated to his face.”
Alliance Page 18
