Evander and the Strangler's Quest

by Wells, L. G.

  It seemed that Anguis had cleared it out to keep anyone from hiding in the shadows. The thought sent a chill down Evander's spine, and he tried not to think of what would happen if he was caught. Instead, he focused on what he needed in order to complete The Strangler's first task.

  Going into the connecting room, he was relieved to see that his mother's Dressing Room, at least, had not changed all that much. It still had the large wardrobe whose drawers he could fit himself inside, and her nightclothes were draped over the lounging chair for the servant girl to take care of.

  Evander walked over to where she had left her current sewing project and stared down at it. It was a large embroidered blanket made of black and red, with gold stitching that formed words down the center of it. Evander lifted it carefully to see what it said.

  Aeliana Aldana, born in the two-hundred and second year of the Selvynth Kingdom's Reign, was the eighth queen of Selvyn until her death in … She bore two sons to her first husband, King Atros: Arthfael, the heir apparent to the throne, and Evander …

  Evander dropped the fabric back down. The date of death had been left blank, but the idea that she had begun to sew her funeral blanket unnerved him. He wiped his hands against his trousers as though hoping to get the feel of the material off of his hands, then turned his back on it altogether.

  “Box, box, where's the box?” he murmured to himself, checking the top of the sewing table then crouching down to peer beneath it.

  “Prince Evander's lost some-thing.”

  The jovial voice came out of nowhere, and Evander lifted his head so quickly that he smacked it against the underside of the table. Grasping the back of it, he looked up to see Effer floating around the room, her green dress clashing with the deep red walls.

  “I thought it wasn't safe to fly around here in that form,” Evander said, still moderately annoyed that she had caused him to bruise his skull.

  “It's not too safe to sneak around the king's belongings, either.”

  “These are my mother's things,” he said, then added, “and Anguis is out with his men.”

  “Ooo, for how long?” Effer asked, looking about the room. Her eyes sparkled more greatly whenever she caught sight of something that she undoubtedly wasn't supposed to touch, and she zoomed off towards the other side of the room before Evander could stop her.

  “I don't know, but Effer – I need your help. I'm looking for something.”

  “Is it a necklace? I've found one of those!”

  “No – and put that back!” he chided, waving his hand as she held up a beautiful string of black opals. “It's a box. A big heavy one made of lead.”

  Effer flitted back down to his eye level, clearly disappointed.

  “Boxes are no fun … unless there's something in it.”

  “There's not,” Evander said. “At least, nothing good. But there will be.”

  He let out a long awaited breath, finally able to truly think of what he was about to do. He was going to use the box to complete The Strangler's first task: to collect the Deathless Flame.

  CHAPTER SIX

  They found the box in the last place they searched: in the fireplace, hidden beneath the ashes of the dead logs. Evander carefully took it out and blew it off, but the ash stained his hands with black marks that he couldn't get off.

  He opened the box and emptied out its contents: his father's favorite smoking pipe, his pewter drinking cup, the ring that had been forged for him when he became king, and a short dagger. Evander carefully wrapped them all up in a lambskin and was just about to replace them in the fire when he changed his mind and took back the dagger. It was solid steel and heavy in his hands, and he stuck it into his belt before hiding the rest of the possessions back where his mother had had them.

  “What fun's an empty box, Prince Evander?” Effer asked, clearly disappointed.

  “I have to put something in it.”

  “Ooo, what is it? Gold? Treasure?”

  “No.” He stood from the fireplace and looked over at where she hovered midair. “It's to collect the Deathless Flame.”

  Effer zipped down and flattened herself beneath the sewing table at such a speed that Evander thought someone had entered the room and seen her. He whirled around to face the doorway but, seeing it empty, turned in confusion back to her.

  “What?”

  Effer slowly peeked out from her hiding spot.

  “You said nothing about stealing the gods' flame, Prince Evander,” she said.

  “It's not like I want to: it's the task The Strangler gave me,” he argued. “I have to do it.”

  “Even the magic folk know better than to go against the gods.”

  And without another word, she turned to the window and pushed open one of the tiny panes of glass trapped between leaded lines, and disappeared into the daylight.

  Evander watched her go with a tightening sensation in the pit of his stomach, but then he put the empty box into a leather bag and slung it over his shoulder before sneaking back downstairs. In the kitchen he grabbed some flint and a handful of kindling from beside the hearth, then headed outside. If anyone saw him, they would assume that he was going into town to fetch something, and he had already decided to say that Gussalen had sent him out for more grains because the last bags he had brought had been ruined.

  He trudged up the main road, his boots not quite tall enough to keep out the deep snow, and his hands and face grew colder and colder as he walked on. The trees lining the road to his left blew flecks of snow down upon his every time the wind passed through, and the River Odi on his right was completely frozen over. If he were to walk on it, it would take him to the Temple more quickly, but his father had always warned him and Arthfael not to do so as rivers never froze completely. Still, Evander thought as people on horseback bypassed him easily, he would have liked to have a private shortcut between the Temple and the Palace, if not to get there sooner than certainly to make his escape more quickly.

  Steal the Deathless Fire from the Temple of the Seven Gods.

  He couldn't remember what he had thought the tasks would be like when he had shook The Strangler's hoof, but he certainly didn't think he would be asked to commit a crime punishable by death. Worse, would the gods forgive him for stealing the flame? He wondered if they would have mercy on him because he was doing it for his brother and the kingdom, or if they would strike him down before his hands were close enough to it to feel the heat of the flame.

  The Temple stood on the highest hill in the village. It was a huge stone building, large enough to fit all of the villagers, with etchings carved all around it depicting the stories of how the gods came to be. Evander slowed down once he got close to it, his footsteps suddenly heavy. As he stepped inside, he could have sworn that he saw the stone eyes of the seven gods move from their places in the wall to stare at him.

  The decorations for the Festival were well underway, though they didn't look as they had in previous years. It seemed that they were running out of foods to hang as ornaments, and the boughs that usually glowed with bright lights looked dull and uninviting.

  Evander cautiously stepped down the center of the aisle. The flame was burning at the front of the room, and the holy men were chanting from the balconies above. A priestess passed him as he walked, and moved her hand back and forth in front of her in a blessing. Evander tried to thank her, but his throat was too tight. She carried on without giving him another glance.

  He heaved his feet up to stand on the altar before the Deathless Flame. The chanting carried down from the ceiling and washed over him, and the sounds of villager workers hammering nails in place to string boughs up on the wall came from behind him, but all at once he felt alone. It was as though the room had been vacated, and only he remained with the Deathless Flames and the seven gods.

  Their statues stared down at him ominously, their stone eyes fixed on where he stood. They were positioned in a semi-circle behind the fire: the four goddesses, Nativita, the goddess of birth, Infirm
a, the goddesses of illness, Natura, the goddess of the Earth, and Amora, the goddess of love; and the three gods: Contrus, of war, Prosperitus, of wealth and success, and Navigatius, of journeys. The flame glowed purple now in association with Navigatius. Evander briefly wondered if the gods were operating in favor of Anguis, but then he pushed the thought from his mind. He didn't want to think of his step-father now.

  Reaching into his bag, Evander pulled out the twigs and set them beside the Deathless Flame. Then, snatching the flint and dagger, he struck the two together until a spark shot out and lit the kindling. Working quickly, he grabbed the lead box and swept it over the Deathless Flame, trapping the purple fire within it, and then pushed the ordinary fire into the place that the Deathless Flame had just been. As the lead container grew warm, Evander dropped it within his bag and slung it back over his shoulder.

  He hurried from the temple at such a fast pace that he was certain he looked suspicious, and at the door he glanced back at the fire he had created, knowing fully well that it would burn out in several minutes' time. For now, the orange flames just made it appear as though the god of war, Contrus, was watching over Selvyn.

  He could hear the drums sounding the alarm by the time he was at the edge of the palace property. He hastened his step, limping under the weight of the lead box and from his soaked feet, and didn't slow down until bypassing the palace and going to the woods out back.

  He moved through the trees nearly blindly, and it wasn't until later that he realized he had tears streaming down his face at the thought of what he had done. He had betrayed the gods: doing so would curse his family. And yet, he thought as he approached the blackened area of the forest where The Strangler inhabited the old oak tree, his family seemed cursed as it was already, and even if he wasn't certain of the form that the gods' wrath would come in, he was certain that things couldn't continue on as they were at the present.

  He reached The Strangler's tree and took the bag from his shoulder and moved it into his arms. Clutching it to his chest, he called to awaken him.

  The Strangler crawled from the dark crack in the center of the oak trunk, his hooves scratching against the dead bark, and then straightened up to his full height before Evander. He looked down at him expressionlessly.

  “Yes?”

  “I have the flame – the Deathless Flame,” Evander gasped, holding out the bag.

  The Strangler only eyed him. Evander hastily shook the box out from the bag, then opened it to reveal the flame. Like the flame that he had left behind in the temple, it too glowed orange. Perhaps the rage of war truly was coming from the gods – for him.

  The Strangler breathed though his nostrils, sending white air around his face, and pawed one hoof on the cold ground.

  “Here –” Evander said, shoving the flaming box forward to The Strangler. The drums were banging loudly in the distance, and he wanted it out of his hands before the Noble Guards and holy men and priestesses came looking for the thief who stole it. It would be difficult enough as it was to hide, but more so if someone had recognized him – as they surely had, as he had once been their beloved prince – and especially if he had to hide it right beneath Anguis' nose.

  The Strangler simply looked at him.

  “I have no need for that,” he said.

  “W-what?” Evander nearly dropped the box. “But – you said that it was my first task. You said to get the flame –”

  “Yes. And you shall keep it,” The Strangler said. “You're going to need it for your second task.”

  “Which is what?”

  “Go to the River Odi,” he said, “and find the key on the river floor.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  It was nearly nightfall by the time he found a place to hide it, and several hours later before he could execute it.

  He dug a hole in the frozen ground just inside the forest, right between two trees that had joined together at the top, giving the allusion of a giant A marking the forest floor. A for Arthfael, Evander thought as he dug up huge chunks of frozen dirt. He kept digging far past the time that his hands went numb, and far deeper than the hole needed to be in order to fit the box. He wanted to put it in the center of the earth: to hide it from the world and from the gods who would never forgive him for what he had done.

  It's for Arth, he told himself when he simply couldn't dig anymore, and he placed the box in the hole and covered it over with dirt. It's not stealing. It's not going against the gods. It's just for Arth. But somehow it didn't seem that way, and unless the gods showed themselves and pardoned his fault, he would just have to wait for their impending revenge.

  He returned to the palace with his head hung. The sprites had not come back to see him, and he knew that Effer had told Scence and Vee what he had done. Letting himself in through the servants' door, he trudged into the kitchen and kicked off his boots.

  “Where have you been?”

  Gussalen's voice was nearly shrill, and the sheer sound of it was enough to jog him from his stupor. He looked up quickly.

  “I've been looking for you all day! I had to send one of the chambermaids into the village for supplies –”

  “I thought only the Queen was in the palace today?” Evander said, stopping short.

  “The King returned almost immediately. He had urgent business to attend to and brought a fleet of men that I couldn't feed.”

  She gave him a withering glare like he'd never seen before, but Evander wasn't concerned with it.

  “What type of business does he have?”

  “Business that he doesn't share with his kitchen staff!” Gussalen snapped, and pointed to the table where a slab of oxen was waiting to be chopped.

  Evander skinned it and then began cutting the sinew from the meat, all the while straining his ears in the hopes that the voices of Anguis and his men floated down through the ceiling. It occurred to him sometime later that they would be meeting in the Feast Hall, which was clear on the other side of the palace and well out of earshot. He returned to chopping the meat, this time letting the cleaver fall down to smack against the wooden table without trying to muffle the sound.

  “Go and fetch some more cheese and bread, now,” Gussalen said the moment he had finished. “The white bread, not the brown. And see if there's any honey left in storage.”

  He retrieved the bread and then went to the storage room to check for the honey. It was still half-covered in ice, and when he tried to drag a chair over to check the top shelves he found that it was frozen to the floor. Sighing, he instead jumped up and caught the shelf over his head with his hands and then heaved himself up to look for any clay pots that might have had a dribble of honey left in them.

  Something creaked on the floorboards behind him, then halted abruptly as though not wanting to be heard. Evander felt a smile coming to his face.

  “Is that you, Effer?” he called. “Trying to sneak up on me –?”

  He dropped down to the floor and turned around, expecting to see either the green sprite floating in midair or else the white ermine paused in the center of the room, but was instead met with a sight that made the smile slide from his face.

  Anguis was standing before him with three of his Noble Guards.

  “'Effer,' did you say?” the King said, taking a step closer to him. “Is that a friend of yours?”

  He wasn't wearing his usual clothes. The long, ornately threaded coat with the sable trim was gone, as were the colorful silk tunic and trousers. Instead he wore his riding boots, thick leather gloves, and a scabbard hanging from his belt: his hunting attire.

  Evander took a step back, but immediately felt his back press against the nearly empty storage shelves.

  “Were you with your friend Effer today, boy?” Anguis asked. “Is that where you were all afternoon?”

  Evander's shoulders began to shake. He didn't know which lie to tell: if he claimed that he was with a friend, then Anguis could easily check the names of every boy in town to disprove him. But if he claimed that h
e was alone, he wouldn't have an alibi for where he was.

  “N-no,” he said at last, clamping his hands together to keep them from shaking.

  “No? You weren't out with a friend?” Anguis repeated, stepping closer still. “Then where could you have been all day? Surely you had a reason for neglecting your chores?”

  Evander said nothing. He's just baiting me, he said to himself, wishing that he could close his eyes and open them to find that the men had disappeared. He doesn't know what I did – he's just seeing if he can scare it out of me. He's got no reason to think that it was me …

  “Surely,” Anguis said, taking a final step forward so that the toes of his boots were pressing on top of Evander's bare feet, “you had a good reason to go to the Temple after I clearly told you that you weren't to step foot within it for seven weeks?”

  “I – no, I –”

  “Think carefully, boy,” Anguis hissed, and his hand leaped up to close around Evander's thin neck. “The priestess gave me the name of everyone who entered the Temple today, and she makes no mistakes. Why were you in there?”

  He gave Evander a shake, and his hand tightened around his throat.

  “I – I –” Evander gasped, “– to pray!”

  The King's hand slackened, but only slightly. His lips were turned in disgust.

  “You went there to pray, and within the hour the Deathless Flame was taken from its spot on the holy altar?”

  “I don't know anything about that!” Evander said. “I just – you said the gods would be angry with me for talking to the ermine, and I needed to ask for their forgiveness – so that they wouldn't bring misfortune to my family!”

  “Ya don't have much family left ta bring misfortune to,” said one of the guards, and laughter spewed amongst them. Anguis held up a hand to silence them.

  “Where were you for the rest of the day?” he demanded.