by D P Rowell
The train pulled to the bottom of the valley in the surrounding mountains to a station outside the city wall. It reached several hundred feet in the sky. Everyone grabbed their things, and Rio and Marg led the kids to the main road through the city entrance. The open gate welcomed people traveling freely to and from. Guards with AMRs stood at the opening of the walls. Two humans, two jags. They smiled and welcomed the entering guests.
Even the guards with large blasters make Gathara feel like home, thought Ace.
Inside, the roads were even more narrow than they seemed from the plane. They were made of bricks in different shades of red and brown, with hardly any space between the buildings. Everything was clustered together. The streets flooded with jags. Evelanders and drakes were seen often but not as frequently, and every now and then a fae appeared in the crowd. He fought his urge to stare at the wonderful creatures. He hardly thought it possible he would see a city bigger than New Eathelyn, but it stood right there before his eyes. Mighty, vibrant, and every bit as joyful as Grandpa. A bittersweet thing. He missed him every time the thought of him crossed his mind, but the city made him feel like Grandpa was somehow still alive.
The air filled with the clip-clop of horse hooves, bartering merchants, and it seemed every corner they turned someone laughed merrily. The further along they traveled the steeper the hills became. It kept reminding him of ocean waves. Which brought him back to the thought of the young fae and her ocean-purple eyes. He held his tongue on the train, but he wished to fight Rio on speaking to faes. Although it was a longshot he’d ever see her again, he desperately wanted to meet her. Something about the way they caught eyes struck him magically. Maybe Rio could be convinced that faes were harmless. Just meeting one couldn’t hurt, right?
CHAPTER TWENTY
All the Fun
“How much further?” Julie said.
“It smells like horse butt here,” Tamara said.
Rio and Marg took them through a few more turns until they came to a road less narrow. In the middle of this road a tree sprung forth. The bricks cracked and broke as if the tree burst from the ground. Its branches covered the neighborhood in a welcoming shade, and its leaves were a rich green, clumped together to resemble the fluffiness of a cloud or balls of cotton. Houses stood on either side of the courtyard, and Rio and Marg led them to one on the right, up the wooden steps, and into the front door.
“Lights on,” Marg said. Bright, cool light turned on from the ceiling. “Home sweet home.” Everyone walked inside and laid their luggage on the ground. The front door led straight to a living room.
“This is where you live?” Cameron said.
“Yes. It’s my home in Gathara,” Marg said.
“Dibbs on the couch!” Julie said as she and Tamara ran and plopped themselves on the dark sofa.
“What do you mean in Gathara? You live in other places?” Cameron asked.
“Sorta,” Marg said, “It, uh, complicated.” The jag scratched his neck as Rio walked in beside him. “Hey, uh, make yourselves home, alright? There’re two rooms upstairs, you pick who shares.”
“We have to share rooms?” Tamara said with a face like she’d just smelled a sewer.
“Get used to listening to Marg,” Rio said stepping in. “This is gonna be your home for some time.”
“What?” Julie and Tamara said as they jumped from the couch.
“What do you mean our home? Like, we’re gonna live here?” Tamara said.
“Yeah,” Rio said. “That’s what home means. Go put your things up.” He pointed his finger to the hall upstairs.
“I thought we were just hanging here for safety until we could find our parents or whatever,” Tamara said.
“Yeah! I can’t live in Gathara! What about all my friends back home?” Julie said, her arms crossed.
“Your parents may be gone,” Rio said. The room went still and all the children mildly hung their heads. “I’m sorry, but that’s all we know. Gathara is the safest place for you right now. I promised your grandfather I would protect you and that’s what I’m doing.”
Tamara and Julie huffed and puffed as they stomped their way to the second floor.
“Uh, are they always like that?” Marg asked. Rio, Ace, and Cameron turned to the jag and nodded. “Great.”
“You two go put your stuff in your room and try to get settled in,” Rio said. “Get some rest.”
Ace and Cameron turned to walk the stairs. As Cameron started up, Rio grabbed Ace’s arm and whispered in his ear.
“You especially need rest. Tomorrow I will introduce you to the elite, and hopefully begin your true training,” the drake said. Ace nodded as Rio let go of his arm.
He walked the stairs behind Cameron, and they turned left because the Peppercorns had already claimed the room on the right. They entered a small bedroom. A bunk bed sat in the middle of an otherwise vacant room. It felt like boot camp.
Cameron walked beside the bed and threw his bags down. “Okay,” he whispered, “when are you gonna start teaching me some witch hunting?”
Ace jerked his head back his brother. Guess that answers that question, he thought.
“Well, we’re gonna need to be alone,” Ace said. “I dunno how easy that’ll be.”
Cameron shrugged. “We’re alone now.”
“True. But we don’t have enough space.”
“You need space?”
“Well yeah. I mean, you use blasters and stuff.”
“Blasters?” Cameron’s eyes shot up as he stepped closer to Ace. “That’s awesome!”
“Yeah,” Ace smiled, “it’s pretty cool, I won’t lie.”
“But, isn’t there something you can tell me? I mean, there’s stuff I can learn without having to practice, right?”
Ace looked around, then smiled back at his brother. “Okay,” he whispered. “Well, uh, I guess the first thing is to teach you about witches and how you can tell they’re nearby.”
“Right,” Cameron said. “Black dust, whispers in the dark . . . . uh . . .” he squinted at looked up as he thought. “The smell of . . . . of . . .”
“No, Cameron. Those were just stories. They’re only partly true. Witches hide in plain sight and it’s hard to tell who they are. They speak almost all lies. Hardly anything they say is truth. The black dust comes from their disguise. When they get caught in a lie, their disguise breaks down and it releases black dust. That’s also where the smell of smoke comes from in the stories.”
Cameron leaned close and squinted. “I’m sorry, Ace. This is really hard for me to believe.”
“You know all those rifles the guards have around here?”
Cameron nodded.
“Those are hybrid rifles. They shoot anti-magic and plasma. This entire city is dedicated to fighting the witches.”
“Does it really take blasters to take them down?”
Ace nodded. “Listen, Cameron, be careful with this information. Rio told me the reason Grandpa doesn’t want you and the Peppercorns knowing about this is because hunting witches is dangerous. When they feel they’re being caught in their lie, or someone is snooping around looking for them, knowing they’re nearby, they’ll resort to magic. They can take your memory, twist your limbs . . . all kinds of weird things. Unless you’re trained to fight one, it’s not good to know how to find one.”
Cameron chuckled. “But Grandpa somehow thinks you’re safe with that information, right?”
Ace paused a moment knowing the true reason he was trusted with this information. The Emerson Stone protected him from magic, but it didn’t protect the other grandkids. Should he tell Cameron? “I . . .” he began to say, then remembered his promise to Grandpa. “Yes. For a reason I can’t explain, he told me.
Cameron shook his head. “I don’t get it.”
“Neither do I, Cameron.” He leaned close and placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Look. I really need you to trust me, alright?”
Cameron’s face played with a few different ex
pressions. Anger, frustration, then acceptance. He sighed, and a half-smile appeared at the corner of his mouth. He clapped Ace’s shoulder. “Of course, I trust you, bro. Halders stick together.” Ace smiled at him. “Let’s get some sleep. You better teach me how to shoot one of those rifles, though. Can’t let you have all the fun, right?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Rio’s Detour
Time inched by like a snail, and Ace found himself in a daze. He looked around and wiped his eyes, but everything kept its feathered edges. Where was he? It wasn’t Heorg. The walls of bookshelves reached twenty feet high, surrounding smaller bookshelves in the middle, and they were laid out as if he were in a maze. The carpet was immaculately clean, and the air carried the smell of leather. He had been here before. He found himself in the “Tales of Earth” section, hoping to find a manuscript of one of Grandpa’s fun stories with no luck. The haziness drifted as his head cleared. It was Eveland! At the Peppercorns’ house. But why was he there? Footsteps pounded behind him and the sound echoed in his brain. Every thump delivered a more heightened sense of Deja Vu; despair awaited him shortly. He turned to find a younger Cameron with longer dark hair rushing from the stairs.
“Ace,” his voice echoed like the footsteps, “Come quickly, it’s Mom!”
Ace ran with all his might, but it felt as if he hardly moved. Instead, the room around him drifted into darkness, and ahead lay his mother, Dad by her side, weeping. He brushed his wife’s hair by her face. A tear rolled along his cream skin and fell off his round jawbone, splashing against her still face. Her thick brunette hair lay sprawled on the tile floor like a mop.
“Who did this?” Father said, choking on his tears. Aunt Kaitlyn appeared behind him, placing a hand on his back. Her looks reminded Ace once again of how the Peppercorns outdid them in every way. She stood as tall as his dad, long, silky blond hair, crystal blue eyes, and a graceful gaze even with tears in her eyes.
“No one, Colton” Aunt Kaitlyn said, “it was just an accident.”
“Get away from us,” Dad said, shooing his sister with his hand.
“Dad?” Ace said, stepping forward.
“I swear!” Julie yelled from the distance. Her voice rang loud. Carried by the vast and hallow darkness. He couldn’t see her, but the shrill voice he recognized anywhere. “I didn’t mean to,” she choked and coughed on her tears. “I would never do anything like that! Please believe me!”
Ace stared at his mom, her eyes shut, Dad weeping over her. His heartbeat grew heavier. His stomach rose to his throat. His breath went too fast for his lungs and he collapsed to his knees.
“Mom?” He screamed. “Mom get up! You’re okay!”
“Ace!” A voice called. Ace searched in all directions, but there was no one around. Only darkness. “Ace! Wake up!”
He jerked his head again and opened his eyes to waking life.
“Hey, calm down, calm down,” Rio said, hovering over the boy. Ace felt the drake’s hands on his shoulders as his breathing slowed. A pool of sweat under his back had soaked into the mattress.
“Sorry,” Ace breathed deep, “Was I yelling?”
Rio shook his head. “Just squirming and panting. It was just a dream, though. C’mon, get dressed.”
Rio left the room. Cameron lay asleep on the top bunk, and Ace prepared himself for the day. As he looked around his room, Cameron still asleep, he realized it was the first time in a while he had been alone. He reached for his backpack and pulled out the chest and watch. The stone remained safe so far. But leaving it there wasn’t the safest thing to do. What if Cameron went snooping or something? He threw on his backpack and put the watch in his pocket. Rio stood at the front door as Ace made his way down the stairs.
“What do you need your backpack for?” Rio said.
“Just in case I need some extra clothes or whatever. You never know,” Ace said with a weak smile. Rio shrugged, then turned his attention to the sofa. “Thank you for looking after the family today, Marg.”
“No worries, ug,” the jag replied. “Just question though.”
“What’s that?”
“What we gonna do tomorrow? I can’t sit here for recall. And we can’t leave family here by selves.”
“Well, we definitely can’t take them to Headquarters,” Rio said.
“Exactly point.”
Rio shrugged, a firm look on his green face, “I plan on discussing some things with the elite today. Perhaps I can work out some sort of arrangement.”
The jag nodded, but his face showed question of Rio’s plan. The drake led Ace through the front door, to the courtyard with the tree, and back into the city.
“Mind your eyes,” Rio said. For a fae had walked by, catching the boy’s attention.
“What’s so bad about faes?” Ace said.
Rio looked at the boy fiercely. The drake hardly seemed to know another expression. “Faes are magic creatures, Ace. They’re born with the abilities of a witch. The only difference between a fae and a witch is that you can spot them anywhere. Witches hide in front of your nose.”
Ace furrowed his brow and tilted his head. “I thought Gathara was governed by the Indies.”
Rio nodded.
“So, if faes are magic, why are they not prevented from coming in?” Ace said.
“Some are, actually. Not long after the city was built, many faes migrated from Breen to the suburbs of Gathara. Hundreds, maybe thousands, live in the surrounding mountains now. At first, we freely let them in, wanting Gathara to be a safe place for all Yutarians wanting to escape the clutches of the council.”
“Even though they had magical abilities?”
“Well, we didn’t know then. You see, any form of magic—excuse me—” Rio bumped into a jag as they turned to a brick street, “. . .any form of magic is outlawed here. Hunters guard this city day and night, trained to detect it. If such magic is detected, the witch is taken captive and interrogated. We’ve never had a breech in security.”
“So, as long as the faes don’t practice their magic, they’re allowed to stay?”
Rio nodded. “Yes. The elite chose this. I, for one, voted against this law. Seeing as any creature with magical abilities should be a direct threat to what we stand for. But the others thought it unfair to banish a race of creatures simply because they were born with abilities. We compromised. All faes, if they are to be allowed in Gathara, must swear allegiance to the Indies and give up their magic. Some have even gone as far as to remove their tattoos to demonstrate their allegiance to us. Which, I’ll admit, is impressive. Those faes are okay for you to speak with. In fact, some of them have become hunters, but still be cautious. Something about them makes me uneasy.”
Ace nodded. Something seemed strange when Rio told him this. A gut feeling maybe. He pictured the eyes of the fae from his train ride. She seemed so harmless. So innocent and lovely. But he caught himself, remembering Rio’s advice. A witch’s strongest power was deception. The faes must have mastered this art if Rio was correct. But he still couldn’t shake the persistent idea of Rio being wrong. The idea the faes had more to offer, and the drake just hadn’t seen it yet. Maybe a fae without tattoos could offer an explanation. He’d find one and ask them the second he got the chance.
A thin, faint yellow line brightened on the eastern walls of the city as dawn approached. Streetlights lined the sidewalks, and sconce lights hung outside the buildings. Hovercrafts zoomed by over the city, but they were few and far between. For the hovercrafts able to reach such heights were only of the most expensive kind, and the roads proved too narrow to fit normal crafts inside the walls. They trotted along through the winding paths of brick and stone, and the massive castle Ace remembered from the jet grew more visible. They approached an entryway of gray cobblestone, leading to a bridge over a large river circling the castle. It had walls nearly as large as the city walls, and lights of red fire lined the pathway on the bridge to the front gate.
“Remember the roads we took to get here. T
his is where you will train,” the drake said.
Ace nodded. “If we can convince the elite I’m the new Halder.”
“Yes. That’s precisely why I’m not taking you to them first. A little detour if you will,” Rio said.
“Detour? Where are we going?”
Rio turned to Ace, a sly look in his eye. “The witch cellar.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
A Gathering Arranged
Past the bridge stood two human guards, one on either side of an arched double doorway of dark wood. The familiar X shaped vest wrapped over their torso. Each had a rigid expression on their faces, and both hands on their hunter’s rifles.
“Atarion. Elite,” Rio said. The guards nodded, their eyes focused ahead. One turned and placed his hand on a chrome plate beside the doors. The doors squealed in a deep roar as they opened inward. The guards tilted their heads in a salute.
The sun climbed higher in the east, and its rays of dry warmth beat against Ace’s skin. The drake led him through the gate of the outer wall into a great courtyard of manicured grass and perfectly trimmed hedges. One drake dressed in torn cloth drove a mower across its surface, and a few others, drakes, jags, and humans alike, trimmed the hedges against the castle walls.
“Trainees need to learn discipline, you know?” Rio said with a chuckle.
The cobblestone path led them to another set of double doors, this one unguarded. The drake placed his hand on another chrome surface, and the double doors flung open. A vast hall of stone and brick awaited them past the entrance. Pillars of polished stone glimmered from the sun blaring through the arched windows. Each of the pillars connected in in an arch. The floor was charcoal tile, so beautifully finished he felt guilty for walking on it; and ahead, complementing the elegance of the vast hall in such a way the boy’s heart skipped a beat, was a mural; a portrait of an old man. An old man who looked young, had a wide smile, leathery skin like Damion, stubby-white five o’clock shadow, and thick white hair slicked perfectly back. Underneath the person’s name was written.
