But… Did it make sense? Todder wasn’t sure.
The pain subsided, but Todder was cold and drained of energy. He felt weak, frail—as if he’d rather die than go on living any longer. He took shallow breaths.
“You have failed your king,” the voice said coldly. It barely registered in Todder’s ears. His head sank forward to his chest.
The Grand Sovereign snapped his fingers. The door opened, and the yellow-eyed servant entered the room. “Search his room; there’s a scroll I want to see.”
They waited but not in silence. The Grand Sovereign gloated, his true self on display. He was aged and decrepit. The face Todder was used to seeing was buried behind folds of skin on his face and neck, wrinkles webbed and deep and. The man’s eyes were black—both in the iris and the sunken lids around them.
“My son always makes mistakes. He likes a plan, but what use is a plan when it requires so many pieces to fit? Why risk you when you have such knowledge? He probably thought you could hide it away with the words he has written on this scroll, hoping you would serve as a distraction. Without you, I might have been onto the halfling immediately. But I thought with a halfling knight and an oaf for a captain, that was just the way things were in Dune All-En.”
Catarina marched back into the room as confident as ever, wearing a smug sneer of a smile. She offered the scroll to the Grand Sovereign but kept her eyes on Todder who was recovering, if only slightly.
Spindly fingers tore open the wax seal. He unfurled the parchment with a vindictive sigh then read.
“Epik will overthrow me.”
There was silence for a long beat.
“What is this?” the old man spat. The folds of his cheeks dropped out of their smile. “This type of magic won’t work on me. Just because I read it doesn’t make it true.”
Again, Todder’s body spasmed with pain. It started outside and worked its way in.
The yellow-eyed servant stepped forward cautiously, but the Grand Sovereign snapped,
“Don’t worry! I won’t kill him. There are other purposes he may serve.”
Later, Todder found himself back in his room, in his bed, the sheets damp and as cold as ice. He had no memory of the past several hours, but his whole body throbbed dully.
“I came as soon as I heard,” the girl said. She slammed the door closed. Dressed in the loose white garments of the servants, she began to unwrap her headdress. Her orange eyes widened at the sight of him.
“Ashah?” Todder’s head was as heavy as a watermelon. He lifted it a scant inch off the pillow then let it fall back. Ashah’s mark were in their usual places, above her brow and beside her lip.
“Yes,” she said softly, “it’s me. Are you all right? What did he do to you? What did he take?”
“What... did who do to me?” Todder asked. “What happened? I feel like I got hit with a cart—and the horses.”
“That’s what I’m asking you,” Ashah said with concern. “What happened?” She stood beside the bed, leaned down and pressed her hand to his forehead. “You seem to be recovering.”
“Recovering? From what?” Todder attempted to sit up. His body protested, so he propped himself up on his elbows—as high as his body would allow.
“The Grand Sovereign,” she whispered. “He took something from you.”
Todder felt his arms, his legs, and then another place. Everything seemed in order. “What… What did he take?”
“That’s what I was hoping to find out. A memory, perhaps? Do you remember anything from the past few hours?”
“No,” Todder said honestly. He thought a moment. “Wait… How did you know something happened to me? Who told you?”
“I have eyes here. I told you before. You have friends among foes. One of them saw you being led down to the parlor.”
Todder pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed his dry eyes. Everything was dry, his eyes, his throat, even his forehead.
“I was foolish,” Ashah said. “Careless with my words. I said your honesty wouldn’t be your downfall, not that it wouldn’t be the downfall of others. Tell me, do you know this halfling is with you? Epik. What role does he play? What he did in the arena today…”
Todder didn’t understand what she meant. “I’m not sure I get what yer askin,” he said, wincing when he tried to stand. He stayed seated on the bed.
“This halfling, Epik. How long have you known him?”
“Not too long. A few months.”
“And did he have magic when you met him?”
“Well, not at first,” Todder said. “He learnt most of that from Gabby.”
“Gabby?” Ashah shook her head. “You don’t learn magic. I mean, you do, but not all of a sudden. It has to be inside you. Or given to you.”
Her orange eyes flickered in the candlelight. Her face went funny like Todder’s gran’s used to do. “I hate to do this,” she said. “Tell me who Gabby is!”
“Oh, he was just an old wizard,” Todder heard himself say, but he was outside his body and putting memories together like clues. Then words formed in his mouth of their own accord. “Gabby came to Dune All-En about ten years ago, the same time that Epiman moved to town with his daughter. They were never in a room together, that I saw. When Epik came, he took up lodgings with Gabby. The wizard taught him things. And when the wizard died, I was suspicious. Epiman looked a lot like Gabby but without the beard. I thought the two might be one and the same. That’s what the Grand Sovereign took.”
“There,” Ashah said, “that wasn’t so hard. I bet the Grand Sovereign used a different spell to get that from you—one with a lot more pain.”
“It sure feels like it.” Todder was back inside his body. He rubbed his jaw just to make sure he still could. “What was that?”
“It doesn’t matter.” She looked sad for a moment. “You will always be true to your heart and to your friends. You will come out of this unscathed.”
“Of course I will.”
She kissed him, just a peck, and she was gone.
37
The Chamber of Secrets
Epik couldn’t sleep. He remembered Gabby telling him it was the price of being a wizard—the mind was in constant motion, continually whirring with thoughts. Then Epik remembered those were Epiman’s—his father's words. And he pushed that memory into the corner of his mind with the rest of the fake ones. Gabby was never real. Or if he had been real, Epiman was not. Epik wasn’t sure what to believe.
Things were still a mess, no matter that Epiman had answered a few questions back in time. Epik only had a million more, the most prominent being: who is Epiman’s mother?
Epik lit the candle beside his bed. His Shadow jumped across the wall at him. Epik tipped the candle over, and the room was dark once more. He relit the candle, this time ready for his Shadow.
“Oh, so you’re back?”
The Shadow nodded and walked to the door. It beckoned eagerly with both evanescent hands.
“What do you want? I need to study. I have to beat the Golden Knight tomorrow.”
It waved again then put its hands on its waist and tapped a foot impatiently.
“Bossed around by my own Shadow. You know, the life of a wizard sounded a lot better in the books.”
The Shadow shrugged.
“So, I’m to follow you? The door’s locked, you know.”
The Shadow shook its head. Sure enough, the door was open. Not that Epik couldn’t have picked it with his wand. It was definitely in his skillset. Kavya must have left it open for him to do just this.
Epik had barely caught a glimpse of her that night. He was the belle10 of the ball at the feast. Ninety-nine percent of the guests were eager to talk to him, to encourage him against the Golden Knight. Only Myra and her grandfather had stayed away. At least Epik knew why the Grand Sovereign was angry. He was just one match away from saving Dune All-En.
But that was precisely why Myra should have acted in quite the opposite manner.
Myra, Epik though
t. My sister. And of course, that meant the Grand Sovereign was his grandfather, too. He would have to sort through those loose feelings some other time.
The Shadow made a gesture that Epik couldn’t understand, flailing with his whole shadowy body. He pointed a finger and put it at the top of his head then flailed again.
“Oh, invisible? You want me to go invisible?”
The Shadow nodded, sighing without an actual sigh.
Epik made himself invisible, and slipped out the door, closing it softly behind him. He crept down the corridors unseen and unheard.
It was a freedom he often used in Dune All-En where his celebrity brought people, children mostly, running his way. But this castle gave him an odd feeling. Like he was being watched even in an unseeable state.
Epik followed the Shadow as it slid over walls and behind tapestries, between suits of armor, and down the jagged walls of the stairwell.
But they weren’t alone in the stairwell, the sound of footsteps cascaded from above him, rushing his way. Epik clung to the cold stone wall as a servant ran past. She wore the same off-white robes as Kavya, but she wasn’t Myra’s servant. One of the others? Her face was covered. Her eyes were orange, and they gleamed in the darkness of the stairwell.
“Hello?” she asked softly. “Is someone there?”
Epik allowed her to pass unanswered. Then he made his way down the stairs, his heart hammering. She hadn’t scared him, but he was intrigued. What is she doing?
Whoever she was, she had vanished.
The Shadow was waiting for him, impatient still.
Epik followed the Shadow to the door of the Grand Sovereign’s sitting room, where they had negotiated the terms of their wager.
It was empty and dark. The grand fireplace was cold, not even a small fire.
It was such a grand fireplace someone could step inside. Someone did.
Epik followed the Shadow into the gloom fully expecting to have to search on the walls for a passageway. But the moment his weight was inside, the fireplace lurched and dropped, falling fast into nowhere.
“You could’ve warned me that was going to happen.”
The Shadow shrugged and vanished entirely. The fireplace continued to fall.
Some minutes later, the fireplace slowed and stopped without so much as a bump. Epik expected a torchlit tunnel, a dank chamber, a dark cavern even. What he found surprised him. It was almost a mirror of the sitting room, ornate furniture, lit candles, and at the edge of the room, beds. Beds that weren’t empty.
The Shadow bounced on the wall and out of sight.
One of the blankets rustled, and a body appeared from beneath it. A girl. She blinked her eyes open and yawned. And she was looking directly at Epik.
It took a moment for him to remember that he was invisible.
“Is there a ghost?” she asked softly.
Another rustle, and out popped a boy with tousled hair the color of straw.
“I heard a ghost,” the girl told the boy, yawning again. She wasn’t upset by the event, just mildly interested.
“There’s no such thing as ghosts,” the boy said. “Go back to sleep, Millie.”
“How do you know?” The girl, Millie, was affronted. They’d bickered like this before; their exchange was perfunctory.
“My mam told me. And she knows everything!”
“Doesn’t know enough to find you.” Another girl sat up and stretched.
“I’m not a ghost,” said the ghost, er, Epik.
“You are so!” Millie crowed. “I told you there was a ghost.”
“If you aren’t a ghost,” said the boy, “then what are you?”
“Never mind what I am,” Epik said. “What are you doing down here?”
“It ain’t a prison.” The second girl was up and feeling the air in the room for him. “We stay here for our own good.”
“Your own good?”
“We do stuff… unnatural stuff. Daddy Tenebris helps us.”
“It ain’t unnatural,” Millie contradicted. She was much younger than the other girl who was still trying to catch Epik by whooshing her hands through the air. “I don’t care what that yellow-eyed lady says. Or Daddy Tenebris. It ain’t unnatural. It’s mine, and he can’t have it!”
“Millie, be quiet. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Are you sure you’re not a ghost?” the boy asked. “Michael’s a ghost.”
“No, Jack, that’s not right. Michael’s a wraith. A wraith and a ghost are different.”
“Ursa here thinks she knows everything. Millie does, too, I guess. You see what I have to put up with, Michael? It is you, right Michael?”
But Michael wasn’t there to answer. Epik was.
“I still don’t understand,” he said. “Why are you here?”
“We told you,” Jack said. “We’re here for our own good. No one in the city wants us. My mam was even afraid of me. And she doesn’t even care that I’ve gone… or else she would have found me by now.”
“That’s the spirit, Jack,” Ursa said. “Help me find this ghost. And we’ll kill him.”
Then they were both up, flailing their arms, searching the room.
“Ghost,” Millie whimpered. She shrank into her bed. “He wants my magic. I told him I’m he can’t have it. It is natural. But she gave me these boo-boos. That girl keeps cutting me. Ghost, can you tell her to stop?”
Millie held out an arm, scored with deep gashes down the length of it.
Epik’s heart sank. “I’ll tell her,” he said. “I’ll make her stop.”
He went back to the fireplace, ducking under Jack’s outstretched hands. When he was back in the sitting room, Epik, his heart hammering, fled to his room.
“What was that?” Epik shout-whispered when the Shadow bounced back into the room. “Who were those kids? I command you to speak!”
“You command now, do you?” The Shadow grabbed its throat, as surprised as Epik that it spoke. Its voice was as like and unlike Epik’s own voice as was possible. “I only did what you were supposed to. I found the source of the Grand Sovereign’s magic. I didn’t think it would be little children. Did you?”
“No, of course not.” Epik dug for the books under his bed.
“Always to the books. You know, I might be able to help. We could talk this out.”
“No,” Epik said. “I need you to go back to Dune All-En. Tell Epiman what we just saw. Can you do that?”
“I can,” the Shadow said.
Epik didn’t know how he would stop whatever this was, whatever the Grand Sovereign was doing to those children, but he knew he had to try.
38
Voyage of the Unnamed Treader
Waves rolled in, breaking against the dock behind of Rusty’s squalid shop. It was a tranquil, soothing sound, marred by the noise of a crabby goblin and a squad of errand elves working to rig the dirigible and the ship together into one craft—an airship.
Brendan rolled his head side-to-side, anxious. His neck popped once, then twice. The honest truth was Brendan’s thoughts were elsewhere. His mind was like a pendulum, perpetual motion even in the wee small hours it plagued him with ideas or notions—at least it had done ever since that weirdness in the alley by the Rotten Apple. And Brendan’s mind didn’t want to contemplate his place in the grand scheme.
I’m just a watchman, he told himself. But he wasn’t just a watchman. He was captain of the watch—acting captain. But even King Epiman disregarded the ‘acting’ part of his captaincy. Brendan wasn’t acting at all. He was doing.
Maybe there was room for two captains, or three. They could work in shifts. There it was again, his mind going off on its own accord.
Rusty swaggered onto the dock. The elves were busily unfurling a staggering amount of canvas. When that was done, they stretched it over an oval metal frame and Anhog, the goblin, affixed it to the ship.
“It’ll never work,” Rusty opined huskily. “The sea is where ships belong. Only a clown wou
ld think otherwise.”
“It wasn’t a clown who thought of it. It was this fool.” Anhog pointed a long and twisted finger at Brendan. “I’m just the one who's making his dreams come true.”
Are they my dreams? Brendan wondered. Maybe as a boy he had dreamt something so grand. Then life happened.
“We’ll see about that,” Rusty said. “I’ve heard of lofty dreams, but this one’s too close to the sun.”
She had done her part, created a lightweight craft complete with fins and a rudder, adapted from Brendan’s design. Rusty did indeed add a mermaid to the prow. Later would come cannons and a large crew, men that could rappel down ropes and take the attack to the enemy, anywhere they might be. Brendan hadn’t mentioned either of those things to the dwarf or the goblin. They were new. Something he had just dreamed up.
“Got it,” Anhog shouted. “Let’s light her up.”
“Her? The ship’s a girl, too?” Brendan looked at them incredulously.
“Ships are always women. Fine ones at that.” Rusty’s eyes widened. The dirigible had broken free of the dock, hissing like a dragon from the air that was filling it. The chains linking it to the ship tightened, and the boat lurched in the water, creating its own waves.
“That’s the one thing we can agree on,” Anhog said. “You should name her after a woman. I’d suggest Anhog if it wasn’t so conceited. Ah, who cares, I’m still gonna suggest it.”
“Bah,” Rusty snorted. “Rusty’s a fine name for a ship.”
“I’ll take them both into consideration,” Brendan said unconvincingly.
“So, does this thing fly or what?” Rusty asked. She stepped over the gangplank and aboard the ship.
Brendan was right behind her.
“Let’s find out.”
39
A Game of You
At breakfast the next morning, Sir Dom was nowhere to be found. Epik had wanted to ask him if that was what supposed to have happened in the joust. Did Dom know about Epik’s past? He had also hoped to enlist Sir Dom’s help with the children.
Knowing is Halfling the Battle: An Arthurian Fantasy Romp (Epik Fantasy Book 2) Page 18
