by D P Rowell
Sebastian scoffed, then turned back to Ace, “Either way, the vote still works against you.”
“But it’s three against three!” Rio said.
“You’re not seriously counting the kid’s vote, are you?” Ihana said.
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Doesn’t that beg the question, Rio?” George said. “We’re voting on his validity as an elite.”
“As a leader,” Rio corrected. “Leader or not. He’s still an elite.”
Ace glanced at Rio, surprised to hear him say such a thing. Did the drake really consider him good enough to be on this team of warriors?
“There must be a compromise,” Keele said. Silence filled the room for a moment once again, until it was broken by Keele. “Let’s at least see what he can do.”
“Yes! Allow him to train, at least. If he proves himself worthy, he can take the Halder position,” Rio said.
Sebastian scratched his chin. “And what of the interim leader? Will you challenge my authority ‘till then, drake?”
Wrinkles spread like spider webs over Rio’s face. He snapped his tongue and clacked a few times. Ace wasn’t sure if he was making angry noises or swearing in his native tongue. The glare in Sebastian’s eye made Ace feel uneasy, the glare of a man hungry for power.
Rio’s mouth remained closed, his teeth clenched together as he said, “No.”
Sebastian nodded, a sly grin on his face. “I don’t know. I still feel uneasy about this.”
Rio nodded angrily. “I think I can help your decision-making process,” he said. “There’s something you all should see in the witch cellar.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Curse
“That is impressive,” Ihana said.
“There’s no doubt he’s got the Halder’s blood in him,” Keele said.
Ace stood rock solid, listening to the elite’s comments outside the cellar as the witches swarmed him. This time in the witch cellar he felt more confident. He knew he had to impress the elite to prove his worth.
Sebastian chimed in from outside the closed gate, “I’ll admit, it’s promising. But just because the tyke’s immune to a witch’s magic doesn’t mean he’s immune to deception. We still have no way of knowing if he’s worthy of being a leader.”
“What will be enough for you, Sebastian?” Rio said, “Tell me.”
Their bickering continued, but the witches whispered a name to snatch Ace’s focus.
Peppercorn, Peppercorn, Peppercorn.
He tried to fight it. Convince himself the witches were lying.
You can’t ssave them, you can’t ssave them.
The elite’s debate outside the cellar went mute in his head, so he only heard the witches surrounding him. So, he whispered back, “What do you mean, save them?” The witches shrieked and laughed. Apparently only in his head, for the elite had not seemed to notice it.
The Peppercornsss, they belong to usss.
“How do you know them?”
He doesn’t want to sssave them. He doesn’t want to sssave them.
The air grew cold, and a whistling breeze wrapped around him in a blanket of fear. He hardly had the strength to respond. Could they tell what he was feeling? When he heard the witches whisper the Peppercorns belonged to them, he felt no sympathy. How did they know this? He’d tried convincing himself the witches were lying to excuse his lack of care. But the more he thought about it, the more he seemed . . . happy when the witches said the Peppercorns were in danger. So what if they were? They were terrible children.
“How do you know the Peppercorns?” He whispered. He fought the chills crawling on his skin when the witches shrieked again. Immune or not, they were still creepy.
“Ace?” Rio said. He looked at the elite, now staring at him from the cellar. A nervous sweat trickled along the standing hairs on the back of his neck. He couldn’t be caught whispering to the witches. What if the elite thought he was conspiring? Or being deceived? They’d never give him a chance.
“Everything okay?” Rio said.
Ace gathered himself and nodded.
How do we know the Peppercornsss? Come back, come back, come back. We will ssshow you.
Ace stepped forward and addressed the elite. “You’ve seen enough, right?”
“He wasn’t ready for this,” Sebastian said.
Rio scoffed at Sebastian.
“Well, if he wasn’t ready, I’d love to see what he can do when he is ready,” Keele said. Rio smiled as the elite nodded in agreement with her.
“Come on out of there,” Rio said, turning to Ace.
The boy made his way to the cellar door. Outside, all the elite pulled their weapons, and the witches backed further into the dungeon. They turned off the orange glow from the bars and freed him as he caught his breath.
“Afraid?” Sebastian said. “I thought you were immune.”
“Well, I didn’t know I was immune until recently, Mr. Sebastian,” Ace said trying to calm himself.
“Quit trying to downplay what you just saw Sebastian. He’s got a gift, one that could be of great value to us,” Rio said.
“Rio’s right,” Keele said. “We at least need to train him.”
Sebastian looked around at all the elite. They were against him on this one. “Get some rest, kid,” Sebastian said. “You’re suiting up tomorrow.”
* * *
Ace sat on a dark wood bench in the Great Hall as Rio spoke his parting words to the elite. He placed his hands on his head and tried to gather what he had just heard the witches say to him.
Come back and we’ll show you, he thought. Was it something important? What if it had to do with the stone and the map? He still hadn’t taken the time to sift through Grandpa’s story and find clues to the map. When could he? His training would fill his schedule. Gathering the skills to lead the elite was his only shot at convincing the Peppercorns he was put in charge of the family too.
The Peppercorns, He remembered the witches’ whispers. The longer he thought about it, the more it bothered him. It warbled in his insides. What the witches had to say could be vital to the overall mission. He argued with himself. Were they just deceiving him? He thought not. Perhaps the warbling was just his natural curiosity. Which was a good thing. After all, his curious nature brought him along this journey in the first place. Had he not worked up the guts to sneak into Grandpa’s room on the boat, he may never have been given the Emerson Stone.
This persuaded him. He had to find out. But when? How could he get back there? Guards covered all the gates to the castle. How would he sneak from Marg’s home to the castle unnoticed? He wouldn’t have a good enough explanation for why he was out at night. Especially for so long. He looked at Rio, still talking to the elite. Now was the time to move.
“Rio,” Ace called. His voice carrying in a deep reverb through the Great Hall. The elite stopped talking and the drake looked at him. “I—uh—I have to go to the bathroom.”
The hunters chuckled together. Except for Sebastian, who maintained his usual unhappy glare.
“Down the hall, past the double doors, and to your right,” Rio said. Ace gave the drake a thumb’s up and smiled. He pulled his thumb away.
Stupid, stupid!
He never gave a thumb’s up. And his smile felt quirky and unusual. He was about to give away his motives and he hadn’t even pursued them yet. Luckily, Rio turned back and spoke to the elite, brushing it aside. Ace walked the hall in front of him. The double doors straight ahead, and the entry to the cellar to the right.
He peered around him to make sure nobody saw, then sprinted down the winding staircase. Halfway down the stairs, the witch whispers came to him again.
He’sss coming back. He’sss coming back.
They had been expecting him. They could sense his presence. He knew this because he felt theirs in a darkness like impending doom. He walked to the cellar door coated in anti-magic orange.
“I’m back,” he whispered, “Now tell me.” The strang
e thing of his whispers were how they seemed to be only in his mind, but not escape his lips.
One witch screeched so high, he covered his ears and his back hit the wall. He slid to the ground. The whispers grew louder. Yelling. They yelled in his brain.
You came back for usss! You came back for usss! You came back for usss!
“Yes!” Ace said, his teeth gritting, and face scrunched, “Now tell me, witches! How do you know the Peppercorns? You gave me your word!”
Their laughter turned to a deep roar.
We are no witch. We are no witch.
He tilted his head. He looked through the glowing orange bars of the cellar door. The witches stepped aside, leaving a pathway in the middle of the cellar. Four shadowy figures stood in a line together, their heads bowed. All of them with staffs of skull and bone. Necklaces of skulls hung around their necks. Tipped shoulder pads rested over shiny black robes. Hoods covered their faces, and their heads were slightly bowed. Plate armor wrapped around their chests. Gauntlets embraced their wrists, and metal shoes, their feet. Ace kept moving closer to get a better look from outside the bars. He saw nothing else of their faces. Were they Evelanders? Jags?
“Who are you?” Ace said.
“We are the gods of Yutara,” They said in unison. Their voices filled Ace’s chest with a deep bass. “The gods of the seven realms.”
“I don’t understand.”
“We rule from the shadows. No one sees us. No one knows us. But all of Yutara will bow to us.”
His heart plummeted. He stepped back, tripped over the stairs, and fell on his back.
The council, he thought. These are the Warlocks. He sat straight.
“You call us the council,” the warlocks said. Apparently, able to hear his thoughts. “We call us the divine guide.”
He swallowed a lump, wanting to run, but he still hadn’t discovered what he came here for.
“What do you want with the Peppercorns? How do you know them?”
“What we want with them we already have. The question is what you want with them.”
“I don’t understand this nonsense. Just tell me what you want.”
“Don’t you know? The Peppercorns belong to us now.”
He stuttered a moment, then realization swept over him and his mouth dropped. How could he have not guessed this before? No wonder the Peppercorns were so terrible! No wonder Grandpa wanted to find a cure so badly! He was trying to save the Peppercorns! They were witches! But, neither of them were eighteen yet. The curse must not have taken effect. Only one thing seemed to make sense. It was something he could hardly bear to discover. If the Peppercorns belonged to the council, but they were not yet eighteen, there must be a curse on their family. A curse under the name Peppercorn. Marcus Peppercorn, their father, was a parcel. The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. He was a point guard for one of the best basketball teams in Yutara. Quite possibly the most talented. One of the richest men in the world, and most famous. Riches, fame, glory. The council granted this to him. But at what price?
“You’re a smart one,” the council said perceiving the boy’s thoughts again.
Ace stepped back at the force of fear driving him away.
“You’re not prepared for this journey,” the council said.
What journey? Ace thought. Did they know about the—
“The Emerson Stone?” At the council’s mention of the stone a thunderous roar of shrieks and cries echoed through the vast of the castle. Or so it seemed to Ace. “Don’t you know why you were put on this journey?”
Ace’s eyes began to well. “Why?”
“Once a witch belongs to us, they are indebted to us. We own them. There’s only one way to reverse this: a soul for a soul. The only way to save a witch is to die for one. Marty found the cure, he just didn’t tell anyone. Because he knew you’d take on the task, knowing full and well the seventh realm cannot be destroyed. Once you find it, we will be waiting for you. You will not stand a chance against us. You will die in Marcus’ place, pay his debt to us, and the Peppercorns will be set free.”
“You’re lying!” Ace yelled, “Grandpa would never do that to me!”
The halls erupted with their laughter and screeching.
“All will bow to the council! We cannot be defeated!” They roared. Ace turned and ran back up the winding staircase, and the warlocks continued to yell from below. “To defy the council brings death and destruction! Our will be done! Our will be done!”
The voices stopped once he reached the hall again. He held his head, hands over ears, and fell to the ground as he lost the strength in his body. He lay still and bundled, save for the heaving from tears he couldn’t hold back.
Grandpa wouldn’t do it! Grandpa wouldn’t do it! He thought.
“Ace! Are you okay?” Rio said, rushing toward him. He hyperventilated and sweat poured from his body. No one else was around other than Rio. The drake picked him up, looked all around, and carried him away. Perhaps the weight of what he’d just heard proved too painful to bear, or perhaps the nonstop travel had left him exhausted and his body couldn’t take it anymore. Whatever the reason, Ace’s consciousness slipped into darkness.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Cameron’s Tricks
Ace woke in his room in Marg’s house. He hopped from his bed and looked at the top bunk. Cameron wasn’t there. He took a few deep breaths. It was all a bad dream, wasn’t it? The council? The sacrifice? He fell to his knees as his eyes welled again. The last thing he remembered was Rio carrying him away. It wasn’t a dream, it really happened. But why would Grandpa do such a thing? He really did care more about the Peppercorns than he and Cameron. Willing to sacrifice his youngest grandson to save his granddaughters. No wonder he couldn’t tell the others what was going on. He didn’t want any of his other grandchildren to die; only him. He opened his eyes, the hardwood floor a blur through his teardrops. A few of them fell and splashed on the ground, and his vision cleared for a moment.
He looked up at the muffled sound of feet thudding up the stairs. He wiped his face and nose as Cameron opened the room door.
“Ace, you’re awake!” Cameron fell and wrapped his brother in an embrace. “Are you okay?”
“Oh—uh—” Ace reached around Cameron’s neck and wiped his own nose again, “I just had a bad dream is all. It seemed so real.”
They held each other a moment and Ace wrestled with his insecurity. Why keep secrets from his brother anymore? No reason to listen to Grandpa after what he’d learned.
“Cameron.”
“What is it, bro?” Cameron said, pulling away from the embrace.
“There’s something I need to tell you,” Ace said. “I—”
“You’re awake!” Rio said, from down the stairs. He leaped up the stair, his webbed feet clapping the wood on the way. “I was getting a little worried.”
Ace shot a strange look at the drake. “What happened, Rio?” he said, rubbing his head.
“Not sure,” The drake said, “we went for an early morning jog together, and halfway you just passed out.”
Drakes really suck at lying, Ace thought. The boy nodded in agreement anyway.
“How are you feeling?” Rio said.
“Better.”
“Good! Supper will be ready shortly. You need to eat and keep up your strength.”
Ace smiled and nodded as the drake left the room and the door wide open. Cameron kept his eyes on the drake the whole way down, then jerked his head back to Ace.
“You weren’t really jogging, were you?” Cameron whispered.
Ace shook his head.
“Did it have something to do with the witch hunting?”
Ace nodded. Cameron glanced around.
“I found a way to sneak out of here,” Cameron whispered. “How about tonight after dinner we head out and you can start showing me some stuff.”
Ace wiped his eyes and nose. “Sounds good.”
* * *
At the first
bite of dinner, Ace realized how hungry he’d been. Marg really knew how to cook roast conies with mash and beans. He knew how to tell jokes too. Every few minutes he had a new one, leaving the table spitting up their food. Save for Rio, who only cracked a timid smile every now and then. Ace laughed, but barely. His eyes were glued on the Peppercorns all evening. They complained about how the mash was too squishy, and the conies too dry. Their attitudes would bother anyone, but he saw it in a new light. He despised them. Being family, he just learned to put up with them all these years. Not anymore. How could Grandpa pick him for this? Sacrificing him to save those bratty girls. Forget it! By the time Tamara turned eighteen, he would have enough experience as a hunter. He could capture them and keep them in the cellar under his castle. And if he had the Emerson Stone, he was immune to anything they’d try to throw at him. They deserved it. No one should be allowed to take a parent from a Halder without suffering the consequences.
After dinner, when Rio wasn’t looking, Ace snuck by the drake’s belongings and grabbed some training discs. After everyone had gone to bed and the lights went out, Cameron jumped down from the top bunk.
“C’mon,” his older brother whispered. Ace threw off his sheets and tiptoed with Cameron, being sure to grab his backpack first. The one with The Emerson Stone. They opened the bedroom door. The lights were off in the entire house. In the hall between his room and the Peppercorns was a bathroom, and inside sat a small window in the tile wall.
“Shut the door,” Cameron whispered.
Ace shut the door quietly.
“I thought it was permanently shut at first,” Cameron said. He opened a door underneath the sink and reached for something. The window grew bright, and the glass disappeared.
“How did you do that?” Ace said, “isn’t it fingerprint sensitive?”
“I have a few tricks up my sleeve, little bro,” Cameron poked him on his chest, “Don’t forget it either.”
Cameron climbed out the window first, a tree branch led straight to the back of the house, thick enough for them to walk across. He helped Ace next. They climbed down the tree and landed in an alley of grass. The backs of houses faced them on either side.
