Inherent Fate

by Geanna Culbertson

  “Remember that night we were on the magic train and you saved me from falling into the canyon? Before I fell off the train, you told me to let go and that you’d catch me. I chose not to listen because I wasn’t sure if I could really trust you after you made that comment to Jason about me ruining your life.”

  The candle’s light was burning brighter. Or maybe it was getting darker. I extended my gaze and saw Daniel’s hands—strong and callused from so many years of fighting.

  “Is there a question in there?” he asked.

  “Just one,” I replied. I leaned forward, meeting his eyes. I recalled the way he looked down on me as I fell from the train into the canyon. “Given who I am to you—what your prologue prophecy says about me, and how much you love Kai—did it cross your mind for a second to let me fall?”

  Daniel stared at me for a long beat. The couples and lanterns in the background blurred. For that moment, it was just me and him.

  “Honestly?” he said. “Yes.”

  I felt my heart grow colder, but I wasn’t surprised. I leaned back in my chair again, pulling away.

  “You’re mad,” he said.

  “Actually I’m not,” I replied. “I appreciate you telling me the truth. And I get it. If the situation were reversed I would probably do the same thing.”

  “You mean you’d think the same thing.”

  “Right.” I nodded slowly.

  Another lull passed. Our waitress brought over a dish that looked like pork glazed in a red sauce, which I guess Daniel had ordered before I got there. It smelled amazing. Daniel didn’t notice, but when the waitress placed the plate on the table she looked at me then tilted her chin toward Daniel and gave me a wink, which I didn’t understand.

  The fragrance and warmth of the food was enticing, but neither of us touched the dish.

  “I’m not going to turn on you, Knight,” Daniel eventually said, his brown eyes—hard, but fervent—looking into mine. “You know that I don’t blame you for my prophecy. I’m going to fix my fate myself, just like you’re going to change yours. That’s why we’re on this quest. I may have moments of doubt, but I don’t let them control what I do. Just like I hope you don’t let yours control you anymore.”

  I didn’t say anything. I wanted to, but I didn’t. He nudged the plate of food toward me then pushed his chair out from the table. “Here. You eat,” he said. “I’m not hungry.”

  Daniel stood to go. I wanted to tell him not to. But I didn’t do that either. Just before leaving he paused at my side, his tall shadow falling on me like a cloak. “I know it’s a lot to ask. But I promise you, Knight, if you keep trusting me we’ll finish this the way we started.”

  “And how’s that?”

  “Well, amongst other things—together.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his hand extend a few inches toward my shoulder—as if he was going to give me a supportive pat, or a touch of affection—but he pulled away. Instead he put some money down on the table—presumably to pay for the meal—then nodded at me before ducking back inside.

  I sighed and picked up a fork, absentmindedly stabbing at the food. Once the plate had stopped steaming I took a bite. The sauce made contact with my taste buds first. Thick sugar and rich spices delighted my tongue, and I smiled as I put another forkful in my mouth.

  All the patio’s lanterns were glowing now. There was still more than enough natural light to see, so I figured they must’ve been set on timers. As I took my third bite of pork I saw Yunru and Berto coming through the restaurant. I waved and they came over to join me.

  Yunru had an armful of old, weathered texts that reminded me of the Scribes’ protagonist book library. For some reason it also reminded me of a book I’d seen long ago in the Capitol Building library when we were fleeing Arian’s forces in Century City.

  The book had been called Shadow Guardians—Origins, Dangers, & Weaknesses.

  I didn’t know why the book had caught my attention at the time, but it’d been imprinted in my memory since then. Something about it seemed important.

  Yunru set her pile of books down on the table. “You missed a great adventure,” she said as she sat in the chair previously occupied by Daniel. “This bookshop did not disappoint. It will be very helpful for my thesis research.”

  Berto grabbed a chair and sat down as well.

  “Glad to hear it,” I said. “What’s your thesis on, anyways? You never said what kind of research it was that brought you to Germany.”

  I took a big bite of pork.

  “Fairytale characters,” Yunru replied.

  I choked mid-swallow. As I coughed I made a sign to the nearest waitress—I needed water, stat.

  “Are you all right?” Berto asked.

  The waitress brought me water, which I chugged. When my windpipe no longer felt clogged from pork or surprise, I wiped my mouth with a napkin and cleared my throat. “Yeah. Uh, fine. Sorry. Go ahead.”

  Yunru gave me a puzzled look. “Yes, well, like I said, my thesis is on fairytale characters. In America, there are many television programs about people who hunt ghosts and explore other mysterious events. I believe that fairytales are based on real history, and I wish to travel the globe and discover sources of tales and magic phenomenon. At university I study film production and classic literature to prepare for a career like the television ghost hunters. Only I will call my show ‘Fairytale Investigations with Yunru St. James.’”

  “Your last name is St. James?”

  “No, but I like the way it sounds. It will be my stage name.”

  “Germany is full of fairytale legend,” Berto cut in. “For instance . . .” He plucked a book from Yunru’s pile. The cover was mahogany-colored leather with gold flecks on the spine. He opened it on the table between us and pointed at a page. “The city of Hamelin is where the famous Pied Piper comes from. Legend says that hundreds of years ago he used his magic flute to lure children away from their homes to his lair and then drown them in the Weser.”

  “Berto, that is a misleading retelling,” Yunru interceded. “Many of those he lured away were children, but their youth was not what caused them to hear and follow the music. People with strong hearts were the ones entranced by the Pied Piper’s instrument.”

  Berto shook his head, unconvinced. “People with strong hearts should’ve been able to resist the music. That doesn’t make any sense.”

  I took another bite of pork as I watched them argue, my eyes flicking from one college kid to the other as they bickered. They seemed to have forgotten I was there.

  “It does certainly make sense,” Yunru retorted, seeming peeved. “It is like with hypnosis. They say the smarter a person is, the more receptive they are to it, even though reason would suggest otherwise. The Pied Piper’s music works the same way. The stronger the heart, the more susceptible to hearing and being controlled by the music.”

  “Then why were so many children enchanted?” Berto countered.

  “Because strength of heart has nothing to do with age,” Yunru responded. “It has to do with conviction of goodness—the ability to resist evil deeds and thoughts—which children are much more skilled at than adults. According to my research and understanding, the reason the fairytales only talk about children vanishing is because they were the only ones fully controlled by the Pied Piper’s music. For the flute’s music to completely ensnare you, you have to possess a heart that is immovably strong—otherwise known as a ‘pure heart.’ Without a pure heart you may still hear and even be partially controlled by the music, but like the rare adult who was hypnotized in times of lore, you can fight it off depending on what degree of strength your heart holds.”

  I cleared my throat, trying to end the discourse. I knew the tale of the Pied Piper well. Frankly—thanks to my Fairytale History class at school and Blue’s yammering—I probably knew the tale better than Yunru and Berto did. The Pied Piper was an actual Book villain who’d been imprisoned in Alderon ages ago. He did use his music to lure people to
his lair, but he only did so once a month and for three nights straight. At the end of the third night he would play a different song that caused the people to drown themselves in whatever river happened to be closest. There was never an explanation for why he did this. I guess it was just for kicks. Disturbing, but then crazy villains didn’t really prioritize gentility when tending to their homicidal tendencies.

  Maybe the interruption of Yunru and Berto’s discussion had been a little rude, but I preferred not to talk about antagonists from the past when I had so many to deal with in the present.

  “Sorry to bore you with so much darkness,” Yunru said, thinking that was my problem with the conversation. “There are nice fairytales too.” She selected a book from the top of the pile and flipped it to a page near the front. “This is the Sababurg Castle. It is not too far from here and is said to be the actual castle where Sleeping Beauty waited for her prince.”

  “I thought that was the Neuschwanstein Castle,” Berto commented, sliding the book over so he could see the palatial rendering.

  Yunru shook her head. “That is just the castle Disney used for inspiration.”

  “Who’s Disney?” I asked.

  “He is a famous storyteller whose company makes a lot of movies about fairytales. I guess the real castle from the legend did not live up to his vision, though.” Yunru turned to a new page in the book to show me a picture of Neuschwanstein Castle, which was far grander.

  “A storyteller who altered a subject into something you can’t even recognize for the sake of making it look like their version of perfection.” I let out a slight huff of amusement, thinking about the Author. “It’s not unheard of.”

  “Are you familiar with Sleeping Beauty?” Yunru asked.

  “You could say that.”

  “That’s good. It is one of my favorites. Such a sweet story.”

  Sweet was not the adjective that came to mind considering that Sleeping Beauty’s daughter was one of the most toxic people I’d ever met. I may have had run-ins with a lot of antagonists lately, but even without seeing her in weeks, I still considered Mauvrey one of my most hated rivals.

  But I’ll let Yunru have this one. No need to take Mauvrey’s soul-dampening powers cross-dimensional.

  “Yup. Sweet,” I commented as I returned to eating. “You said it, Yunru.”

  fter Berto, Yunru, and I had our fill of hearty German food, the pair of them had gone out for a night stroll. We’d left the restaurant just as Anna and Greg arrived to have dinner themselves.

  I’d spent the next hour or so wandering around the hotel. Over the years my family and I had stayed at fancy hotels when travelling to other kingdoms on diplomatic ventures during the summer. My parents didn’t leave me to my own devices very often on such trips—they knew that the longer I was alone the greater the chance I would get into mischief. But whenever I had some time to myself I loved to explore. Getting a lay of the land always gave me a great sense of peace. And being on my own gave me an even greater sense of clarity.

  When I’d checked out everything of interest in the hotel—from the laundry room to the fascinating machine that produced ice—I ventured out onto the streets of Hann. Münden.

  It was chilly, but the town was so beautiful at night it was well worth it. Tourists and locals carried on under the blaze of street lamps. A warm glow shone from the windows of various homes and establishments. The buildings were tall and compact, many with steep, triangular brick roofs like the hotel. They squished together on the cobblestone pathways as I worked my way through the streets.

  Eventually I found my way to the riverfront. As promised, Yunru and Berto had shown me the coordinates we were looking for on the map. The wormhole back to Alderon was about a ten-minute walk from here.

  Stone walls were built at the water’s edge, creating a perimeter. I rubbed my arms as the cold began to seep through my skin. The river flowed on, converging from the Werra to the Weser a short distance away.

  A sharp wind blew my hair back, causing my face to turn in the direction of the mountains. They were like jagged splotches of ink against the smooth complexion of the sky and the freckles of the stars. The moon wasn’t full anymore, but it was still impressive. When I could no longer handle the cold I hurried back to the hotel, the silvery sphere following me, radiating ghostly light.

  It was about half past nine when I trotted down the hallway carrying two bags from the hotel restaurant. Coming to the desired door, I knocked. After a second it swung inwards, Daniel waiting under its frame.

  “You should really check to see who it is before answering the door,” I said, entering the room.

  “Right. Because an angry tourist is way up there on the list of things we have to be wary of,” he responded. “Berto and Yunru showed me where we’re going on the map,” he continued as he came to the window to join me.

  “Same,” I said. “When did you see them?”

  “They came back about an hour ago. Yunru went to go do some reading in your room. Then Berto and I went out for a driving lesson. I think he’s in the lobby now asking the concierge about the quickest route to some castle.”

  “Whoa,” I said. “Berto gave you a driving lesson?”

  “Yup.” He pointed to the desk where the keys to the Glove Mobile rested. “Greg lent us the car. When I told him I’d never driven before he and Berto both offered to give me a tutorial. Apparently it’s a rite of passage for people around our age.”

  “How’d you do?” I asked skeptically.

  “Not bad. I’m actually pretty good at it.”

  “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

  Daniel noticed the doggie bags in my hands. “Really, Knight?” he said. “I know you’ve got a big appetite, but isn’t that a bit excessive?”

  “One’s for you, jerk,” I said, annoyed but smirking. “You skipped out on dinner so I got you something with the money you left behind.” I shoved the bigger bag against his chest.

  “And the other one?” He nodded at the second bag.

  “None of your business.”

  “It’s more cake isn’t it?”

  I laughed. I couldn’t help it. It seemed Daniel couldn’t either. “Just eat your food,” I said. “I’m gonna find the others to say goodbye and thank you, and then head to bed. We have an early wake-up call.”

  I walked to the door. Daniel held it open as I stepped into the hall.

  “Have you thought about what I said?” he asked.

  I froze for a second. Then I slowly pivoted around. I eyed him steadily. The cake bag felt heavier in my hand, but was nothing in comparison to the weight of his question.

  “I have,” I said. “And I do trust you, Daniel. It’s just hard not to let doubt play a part in how much. You’ve been there for me; I’ve been able to count on you since this journey began. And I know you meant what you said about believing you can change your fate and that you don’t see me as an obstacle to get rid of on your way to doing that. But I also know from my own experience how rapidly doubt can replace good intentions.

  “I mean, I feel no qualms about saying that I’m a smart person. I’m great at looking at the big picture and calculating best options. If I wasn’t, I don’t think I’d still be alive. But even so, when doubt rears its ugly head and instinct kicks in, all those qualities can go out the window. Doubt caused me to push away my friends and put myself in harm’s way. And it caused you to wonder—if only for a second—if it might be easier to let me fall to my own demise from the magic train.”

  Daniel didn’t say anything.

  I sighed. “You’re mad.”

  “No,” he said. “I should’ve expected as much. You’re incapable of letting your guard down for more than a few minutes.”

  Another argument was at our threshold. And this time, I regret to say that I didn’t hold back.

  “That’s not fair,” I replied.

  “Oh no? Don’t think I didn’t know what you were doing in that cave before the Magistrake att
acked—asking me about Kai, trying to get me to open up in some way so you could convince yourself not to let your shields go back up. Your trust in me is as conditional as it is fleeting.”

  “I didn’t say it wasn’t true,” I countered. “I said it wasn’t fair. Maybe if you weren’t so guarded my doubts wouldn’t have so much soil to grow in. Maintaining trust is a lot easier when it’s a two-way street, Daniel. And the fact is I’ve asked you about Kai three times in the last twenty-four hours and you’ve dodged my questions at every turn. You wouldn’t do that if your own doubts about me weren’t causing your trust to waver.”

  I was clutching the cake bag so tightly that all the blood left my hand. Daniel was leaning back against the pale amber wall outside his door—arms crossed rigidly. He looked how I felt—tense, resentful, maybe a bit sad, but mainly exhausted. We were both tired of this, tired of us.

  I kicked at the forest green carpet beneath my boots and sighed. “We’re not very good at this are we?”

  “No. We’re not,” he said. “So maybe we should stop forcing it.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning we can’t keep worrying about the long-term doubts we have about each other. If we do, they’ll drive us crazy.” He uncrossed his arms and shook his head. “Look, at this moment—right here and right now—do you trust me?”

  I paused for a second but nodded. “Yes,” I said. “Do you trust me?”

  “Yes,” he replied. “So why don’t we leave it at that?”

  “Is that an option?”

  “I think it’s our only one,” he said. “Bottom line: I’m sticking with my promise that you can count on me, Knight. But I don’t think any number of promises is going to eliminate your doubts completely. I guess the same goes for me about you. Just because I believe in our mission and my ability to change my fate, doesn’t mean all my doubts about you disappear. So instead of trying to pretend like they’re not there or trying to constantly confront them, let’s just let them be. We’ll cross that bridge if and when the time comes. For now, let’s live in the moment and trust each other one day at a time.”