A Sword of Chance

by Bella Forrest

  “Why the hell would you want to work with me? You’re better off teaming up with Tejus. You should get on his good side now, so that you have more chance of getting home. Don’t waste your time here.”

  “Ash! I think you can win this—I want to remain your partner.”

  He avoided eye contact, looking away as if he couldn’t hear me. I realized words were useless. I reached out to put a hand on his arm, reaching out mentally to offer my strength and my hope, but he shrugged me off.

  He rose from the chair and started to pace across the kitchen.

  “Seriously, I don’t mean to be rude, but you should get the hell out of here. You’ll be called an accomplice if we don’t sever our ties. I’m not willing to let that happen.”

  He started mindlessly picking up kitchen equipment and placing it back in drawers, then picking up tea towels and cleaning the already spotless surfaces of the kitchen counters. I knew what he was doing—reminding himself of his place within the pecking order of Nevertide—and no way was I going to allow that to happen.

  “Ash, look at me,” I said sternly.

  He turned, his gaze dispirited and his expression uninterested.

  “Why did you want to do this in the first place? Why did you want to take part in the trials at all?” I asked.

  “To get back at Jenus.” He shrugged. “That was all.”

  “I don’t believe you. I believe it’s more than that—and I think other than your hatred of Jenus, the reasons that you did put yourself forward are noble and good.”

  He smiled snidely at me. “You can believe that if you want, shortie. If it makes you feel better.”

  I sighed. I was starting to realize that Ash was probably the most stubborn person I’d ever come across in my life.

  “Well, I think it’s because you believe you can do a better job of ruling than the Hellswans. That’s the way things are here—well, I think you believe they can be different. And I know they can.”

  “You’ve been kept here as a prisoner for about a week. What do you know?” he asked angrily.

  “I know that the world doesn’t have to be like this. I know in my world at least, if a servant doesn’t want to be a servant, then they can find a way to be something else—to become something else.”

  He laughed bitterly. “You sound just like my mother used to. She thought that too before she died penniless and overworked, just like everyone else here.”

  I cringed inwardly. Me and my big mouth. He paced the room in silence, but as the minutes progressed his expression softened.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I didn’t know about your mom.”

  “Don’t be sorry. She would have liked you.” He smiled—the first genuine smile I’d seen him give since he came back from his meeting with the ministers. “She always told me I could rise above it all—Jenus, the Hellswan family—as long as I put my mind to it. She was the one who suggested that I try out for the trials, she thought I could do it.”

  “And I believe you can,” I implored. “To hell with the Hellswans—they’ve ruled long enough. It’s time to give them all a scare—the ministers, the royals, all the privileged sentries… why shouldn’t one of the people be elected? Why shouldn’t it be you?”

  “That’s quite a speech, shortie.” He smiled wryly, but when he looked at me there was a kind of reluctant admiration in his eyes.

  “I mean it. Where I come from people are elected because of their skills—not because they were born into a certain family. I’m proud to be working with you, Ash. I want us to finish this journey together.”

  I looked at him, waiting for his answer. I realized that I desperately didn’t want him to give this up—not because he was our ticket out of here if he won, but because both he and the people of Nevertide deserved a kind and fair ruler. One who would stick up for the working classes, one who wouldn’t use humans like batteries to be drained and then tossed away.

  “I think you’re making a mistake,” he replied quietly.

  “I don’t.”

  He walked back to the chairs and sat down heavily. From this distance I could see the shadows under his brown eyes, and how weary he looked. Had it been any sentry other than Ash, he would have siphoned me by now to boost his own energy. It was just another indication of his worth—evidence of the selfless leader Nevertide might have, if only he would give himself the chance.

  “Let me help you.” I reached out mentally, trying to find his energy to meld it with mine.

  Our eyes met, and this time I felt his mind open to accept what I was offering. My energy reached out further, trying to touch his mind with my own. Where before our meld had been blissful, when I touched the corners of Ash’s mind I saw nothing but a bleak kind of despair and hopelessness, and my mind felt like it was wading through black tar.

  No.

  I couldn’t let him feel this way. I wanted him to see what I saw in him—the person I saw was fit to be a ruler, fit to be a king and an emperor.

  I flipped through my memory like it was an old Rolodex, finding the moments in time that had formed my opinion of Ash. I pictured the first moment that his hand had reached down for mine in Jenus’s cellar—the misery and fear I had felt, and how it had melted away as soon as his hand had touched mine. I pushed the image toward him, not knowing if he could see what I saw, but hoping that he would feel it somehow, and know that he had given me hope when I thought there was none.

  I conjured up the memory of his cart rolling along when we’d just been flung from the barriers—how I’d felt when he offered us a solution to support him in the trials and the promise he’d made to get us out of here—the belief that he’d had that it was destiny, that it was meant to happen.

  The memories grew, my mind rapidly flicking through them—the warmth of his room, the mind-meld that we’d shared in the kitchen—how he’d been frustrated and dejected before we’d found that place of bliss. When he’d stunned me by showing me the ability he had to see through things, and the smile he’d given me when he told me that he’d seen me down in the cellar. I could feel myself blushing at that, and hastily skipped past it.

  Then finally, I settled on my most important memory.

  The both of us standing in the arena at the trials. How I could almost feel the pain he experienced from the disk—how it was screaming through his mind, and all he wanted to do was collapse with the rest of the sentries, to give up on his dream. How I had placed my hand on his arm, given him as much of my energy as I could, and the forbearance he’d shown by not trying to take more than I was willing to give.

  How proud I had been to be with him. How ecstatic I’d felt when the crowds cheered him and he lifted his hand with mine in a victorious salute. How we had won the victory together, and that was how I intended us to win all the other trials ahead of us: together.

  Finally, hesitantly, I started to feel his mind accepting what I had to offer. I pushed harder, making my emotions clear and loud, as if I was shouting over at him, cheering him on.

  Our bond started to grow stronger. Soon I felt the link between us deepen into something solid, almost impenetrable. His mind seemed to shift, moving out of the hopeless, empty feeling that had been there before, into a state that was filled with color and light. The energy that reached over to me was now vibrant and alive.

  I smiled to myself as we sat still by the fire, the embers now nothing but soft, lazy glows, our minds united in energy and purpose.

  Rose

  It was too hot.

  I staggered out of the tent that we had been living in since our arrival in Crete, and sighed as I breathed in the fresh morning air. Thankfully, Ibrahim had cast a spell of shade over us vamps the moment we’d arrived, otherwise the beautiful sun would have been nothing but agony.

  Caleb was already up. He was sitting under a nearby juniper tree, looking across the sea. His dark brown hair ruffled gently in the breeze.

  I looked around at the rest of the tents. Everyone appeared to have alre
ady gone, and I was grateful that Caleb had waited for me.

  “Sleep well?” I smiled down at him as I approached.

  “Fairly. You obviously did.” He smirked, pulling a few strands of my hair down from their mussed-up bed-head state.

  “Where are the others?” I asked. I would have liked to sit with Caleb for a while and soak in the scenery, but, unlike our children, we weren’t on holiday. We had been called out to Knossos, an archaeological site which had reports of strange occurrences—both tourists and locals going missing, unexplained noises during the night, vehicles mangled in the street, with no sign of another car having driven into them.

  The locals were superstitious. Some feared that a Minotaur had escaped from the ruins of a labyrinth when the site was dug up. The rest of the GASP team and I thought it was unlikely, to say the least.

  “Come in… come in.” Ashley’s voice crackled over Caleb’s radio—I had left mine in the tent. “Rose, Caleb, are you there?”

  Caleb pressed down on the transmit button.

  “We’re here, Ashley, everything okay?” he asked.

  “Hi, yeah, all okay,” she replied briskly. “Micah and Kira went back to the ‘Minotaur’s’ tracks to do some investigating. They said that they couldn’t smell anything more than a scent of Old Spice… Someone has drenched the track in it.”

  Caleb and I looked at each other. If the werewolves couldn’t smell anything then someone or something had done a good job at trying to hide their presence.

  “Someone trying to cover their tracks,” I muttered.

  “Seems like it,” Ashley replied.

  With this piece of evidence, I was pretty sure that my initial hypothesis had been correct—that these tracks were a deliberate cover-up. I just didn’t know what for.

  “We’re heading on over to the hotel. Derek and Xavier are already there with a bunch of others,” Ashley continued. “You going to join us?”

  The hotel was a five-star resort, situated about a mile away from the archeological site.

  “We’re on our way,” I confirmed.

  Caleb turned off the transmitter and stood up.

  “Let me just grab my stuff.” I went back to the tent and picked up my bag.

  There was something nagging me about this entire situation—something that just didn’t add up. I sighed, frustrated at my cluelessness, and joined Caleb back outside.

  “We’ll get to the bottom of this,” he said, guessing where my head was at.

  I nodded, I was positive that we would. I just wanted that to happen sooner rather than later—before we got any more reports of people going missing.

  Our camping ground was a relatively short walk from the hotel, so Caleb and I made our way down the white stone path that would lead us along the cliff edge, giving us a nice view of the beaches beneath. The air smelt amazingly fragrant, the cypress trees and date palms giving off sweet scents, and I wondered again at the use of Old Spice to cover evidence. It was a weird choice—surely if someone was going to all the effort of covering their tracks, they would want the cover-up to seem as natural as possible to remain undetected, maybe using a citrus juice or herbs? Not a distinctive and well-known aftershave. It was baffling.

  Soon the hotel came into view. It was perched on the edge of the cliff, its bright white walls glaring in the sunlight, and the beautiful terracotta tiling that accented the split-level roofs and balconies held numerous pots of brightly colored flowers and lemon trees. It was picture-perfect.

  “I think we should come back here for a holiday,” I sighed, “when this is all over.”

  “With or without the kids?” Caleb shot me a mock-leer, and I nudged against him playfully.

  “That all depends…” I smiled.

  “On what?”

  “On whether or not they’ll actually want to come. I bet you next summer they’ll be desperate to get back to Murkbeech, you mark my words.”

  Caleb raised a doubtful eyebrow in my direction, but I knew better. Ben and I had loved summer camps the first few times we went, and I was sure the kids would be having an amazing time.

  My father and my uncle Xavier stood by the entrance lobby of the hotel. I waved at them. They both looked like they’d never set foot on a beach in their lives and it made me laugh to think how much we all stood out on this summery island—the only visitors who weren’t lobster red or a deep tan.

  As we walked up the sweeping white steps to the entrance of the hotel, my mother appeared under its grand archway and rushed down the steps to greet us. I could tell from her expression that she was deeply concerned, her emerald eyes wide and a small frown marring her features.

  “We’ve been speaking to one of the receptionists at the front desk—two families here have had someone go missing in the last few days. The entire hotel is in total uproar, and people have been checking out to go and stay somewhere else on the island, far away from this place. We’ve asked the receptionist if we can talk to the families. She’s confirmed that one is willing to talk to us; we’re waiting to hear about the other,” my mother said, anxiously twisting the ring on her finger.

  We greeted my father and Xavier as we reached the lobby. They were both subdued and on high alert, Xavier’s steel-gray eyes repeatedly scanning the landscape, but there was nothing untoward about the beautiful vista that surrounded the hotel. It certainly didn’t look like a crime scene.

  My brother Ben and sister-in-law River appeared from behind the sandy coves that surrounded the front of the hotel and approached the lobby.

  “We couldn’t see anything,” Ben said, “nothing but animal prints… stray dogs and small birds, nothing more.”

  He dusted the sand off his cargo pants, and River did the same.

  “What kept you two this morning?” Ben asked, narrowing his eyes on me.

  I rolled my eyes at him. “Nothing but the absence of kids and some great earplugs, smartass.”

  He let out a chuckle, and it ricocheted across the quiet ambience of the hotel. I noticed then that it was eerily quiet, but perhaps we were just feeling the mass eviction from the hotel.

  “We shouldn’t all go in.” My father surveyed us all with calm blue eyes. “It will make them less likely to talk. Sofia, how about you take Ben and Rose with you—the rest of us will wait down here. We’ll let you know what the receptionist says about the second family.”

  We all nodded in agreement, and my mother led Ben and me toward the front desk.

  “We’re meeting the Bouras family, they’re expecting us.” My mother smiled down at the woman sitting at the information counter. She was extremely young, with glossy dark hair and wide eyes. She peered up at us quizzically and blushed when her eyes lighted on Ben.

  “Oh, of course, the Bouras family. They’re waiting for you in the breakfast room.” She fiddled with a small cross at her neck. “Are you here about their missing uncle?”

  “We are,” I replied, realizing that if this girl was a local, she might prove useful to talk to—if we could get her to open up.

  She nodded sadly. “It’s terrible. He was such a nice man. And the disappearances here… well, we’ve never known anything like it. And word’s getting around. No one wants to stay here, but all the tourists keep coming and photographing the place for their morbid scrapbooks!”

  She flung down her pen, but then quickly recovered from her outburst.

  “I’m sorry,” she muttered, “it’s been a difficult week. I’ll take you to the Bouras. They’ll be able to tell you more.”

  We crossed the polished stone floor, admiring the large sweeping columns and archways that divided the various seating areas and bars that populated the entrance area. The coolness here was a blissful relief from the heat—it was only morning and already the temperature was soaring into the high seventies.

  The receptionist led us to the back of the hotel, where the building opened up onto a large terrace, covered by a light beige canopy. The view was magnificent, looking out onto the ocean and al
l the small boats bobbing in the tranquil water.

  She gestured to a large, rowdy family sitting in the corner of the terrace. Kids were running amok around the pristine linen-covered tables, while the parents stared out morosely across the water.

  We made our way over.

  “Are you the Bouras family?” my mother asked pleasantly, approaching the table.

  “Yes, you’re GASP? Thanks for coming to see us.” A woman rose. I suspected she was in her mid-forties, with a short black bob and clear green eyes. She spoke in a perfect, almost accentless English and gestured for us to sit down. “This is my brother, Silvanos, and I’m Calida.”

  The man sitting a few chairs down from his sister rose to greet us. He smiled warmly and gave each one of us a firm handshake.

  “I’m sorry about the children.” Calida gestured at the kids, whose ages I guessed ranged from about seven to ten. “My husband will be down shortly to take them swimming—two of them are Silvanos’.”

  “The noisiest,” her brother sighed dramatically, “of course. They are on summer vacation and have been under my feet all week.”

  I chuckled. I knew the feeling from when my kids were younger. My mother winked at me as we all sat down opposite the Bouras family.

  “Can I order you some coffee or anything?” Calida asked.

  “We’re fine,” replied my mother. “Why don’t we just get started? We want to know everything you do in regard to the disappearance, it’s our best hope in locating your uncle,” she pressed gently.

  Calida nodded. “Of course, though he’s our great-uncle—I don’t think I mentioned that over the phone. He’s a very old man, in his eighties at least… Silvanos, do you know how old Orestes theious actually is?” she asked her brother, using what I assumed was the Greek name for ‘great uncle’.

  “I have no idea… As old as the hills,” Silvanos replied. “He hated celebrating birthdays, he didn’t like being reminded of how old he was.”

  “He’s old,” Calida said. “Let’s leave it at that. I came down to visit him a week ago. He lives in a small hut by the beach, about a thirteen-minute drive from here.” She gestured off into the distance. “He loved the peace and quiet—and to be honest, he didn’t like me visiting all that much. He said I nagged him too much about his diet.” Her eyes started to redden and she scrunched up a napkin beneath her fingers.