Looming Shadow: Journey to Chaos book 2 (13 page)

At the far left, there
was a Cecri blade that he took from his first battle from his first mission. After
that, there was his first payment as a mercenary, a stone with a slip of paper
and wisdom. Third in line was an embroidered handkerchief given to him by
Princess Kasile as a token of friendship. Second to last was his prize from the
New Scepter Magic Competition, an orichalcum trophy. On the far right and most
important was the Aio Jar.

This last one drove him
to tears. Aio was his first friend in Tariatla and “died” before his eyes in a
den of monsters. The fact that he was truly Tasio in disguise both gladdened
and angered Eric. He picked it up, unscrewed the top, and looked inside. The
ashes were still there despite Tasio flying about and causing mischief.
It's
really not a dream
... He wiped his eyes.

“Well, Roomy, I'm home
at last. It took me four months, but here I am. I hope that troll didn't mess
the place up too bad.”

He sighed. “Aio, what
would you do if someone called you a vessel? 'Vessels are great! They hold
pudding!' That's what you'd say, right?” He chuckled to himself, screwed the
top back on, and put the jar back in its place. “Good night, Aio.” 

He threw himself onto
his bed and wrinkled his nose. There was a deep depression in the mattress and
it smelled of troll sweat, but simply lying in his own bed made him feel warm
and happy. The bed on Threa was comfortable, but it wasn't home.
I'll fix it
later. Sleep now.

He opened his eyes into
a black void. It extended endlessly in all directions; the sky no different
from the ground. Although there was no light source, he could still see all the
statues around and that they were forming a circle.
Huh, just like I left it
.

 He strolled between
the statues of his friends, his fellow mercenaries, his bridge house, and the
Dragon's Lair. Dengel called this place a “Union Point of Telepathic Empathy,” or,
in other words, a mental meeting room.
I haven't been here since I kicked
Dengel's
… He trailed off when he noticed other statues. They were sapients
in regal attire, a second one of Culmus, Duke Siron of Esrah, and a replica of
the castle. He had no connection to them. He didn't place them here.

Why didn't you tell
me you were back?!

During his last visit,
Eric's mind was linked to another's and they shared both joy and sorrow. It cut
off as soon as he stepped outside of Tariatla and the sudden silence was as
terrifying as silence in a void. Now he could feel it again; her wonderfully
hostile thoughts and emotions! He ran to the statue representing her and the
real deal stepped out from its shadow.

“Kasile! Is that really
you!? It's been so long!”

She looked down her
nose at him. “Yes, it has. So long that my name is now
Queen
Kasile
VII.”

Eric slowed to a stop.
“Uh...ah...” He scratched the back of his neck. “About that... I meant to go to
your coronation, really, and it wasn't my fault! Tasio dragged me back to
Threa!”

She maintained her
regal disdain. “How long have you been back?”

“Uh...” He knew she
wouldn't like the answer but he told her nonetheless. “About a month...” Flames
appeared in her eyes and the void's temperature rose. “Tasio dropped me in
Mambi! That's the middle of nowhere! Then there was this creep harassing my
friend and a troll that wouldn't get out of my house, and my team mis...”

“Come to the castle
tomorrow morning.” Her expression remained cold.

“I would love to, Kas,
you know I would, but –”

“I will give you your
mission. I ne –” Her voice cracked and a flicker of warmth raced down their
link. She composed herself and began again. “I
would like
to see you in
person.”

Eric smiled with all
the familiarity of their unique friendship and he was rewarded with a slight
softening in her expression.

“All right, Kas. See
you in the morning.”

He woke up to the sound
of wagons wheels and saw unpainted masonry walls. He touched his bed and felt a
surge of energy and happiness. It was really there and he was really home. He
dashed through his morning exercises and sprinted to the Dragon's Lair.

As soon as he opened
the door, a tall redheaded bear hugged him. Mentor, sergeant, and honorary
uncle, Basilard Bladi was overjoyed to reunite with his long-lost battle mage.
Even the vampiric sword on his back hummed happily.                                                        

“I knew you could do
it,” he said proudly. “I knew it! I just wish I was there last night. Oh, I
can't
wait
to resume your training! I've got four months to make up
for!”

By the next morning,
Eric knew he would be worn out, exhausted, sore, and other words for “run into
the ground” and he looked forward to it. The life of a mercenary was why he
came back. The training would help push him to Dengel’s level, and more
importantly, make him better able to fight opponents like Nulso. It wasn't just
about Annala. It was about gaining the power to accomplish what he set his will
to accomplish.

“It will have to wait
until after your mission,” Mia said. “The queen has summoned Team Four to the
castle and it wouldn’t do to keep her waiting.”

She waved goodbye as
they left for the castle.

More nostalgia awaited
him at the drawbridge. This was where he met Kasile and was flabbergasted by
her royal beauty. The idea seemed odd now that they were friends.
Collecting
bird poop...it took me days to get the smell out of my clothes...
He sighed
happily and looked up at the castle.

One simply didn't see
such a sight on Threa. This was a royal castle built with all the power of
magic and a modern industrial age. It was as tall as a skyscraper and large
enough to be a self-contained community. Everywhere one looked, the royal crest
or symbols of fire informed the architecture, from the plaza to the businesses.
Guards wearing the colors of fire granted them entrance with full respect due
to a queen’s summons, but a pigeon may have taken offense because it pooped on
Nolien as he entered the castle itself.

The mercenaries merged
into the regular bustle of castle life: servants, clerks, soldiers, and whatnot
going about their daily royal business. Most of them failed to notice the
mercenaries as they passed and only glanced their way as they brushed past. It
was in stark contrast to the silent hostility of the last time the team came as
a unit. If anything, they avoided Eric alone and with the demeanor of avoiding
a black cat or open ladder.
It must be because I’m The Trickster’s Choice.

He was a scrawny human
boy and his staff and clothing were a common sight in the capital. However, if
one put them together with his red hair, then he could be recognized as The
Chaotic Prankster’s straight man.
It probably means they see me as an
extension of him…

Their destination was
on the eighth floor, but the novices didn't even look at the elevator because they
knew what their mentor was going to say. The stairs were the original set
created centuries ago when the castle was originally built; solid stone blocks
ascending in a spiral. There were no artificial lights nor delicate engravings
like other stairwells. These were just like they were when Kasile's divine
ancestor ruled here. It was a dark place and Eric could feel the sense of
history as he climbed. Then they passed through a wooden door and saw a noble
lady flirting with a smart scry instead of a messenger pigeon.
Tools change,
but the people using them do not.

They walked up the
hallway to the next set of stairs and the formula repeated for seven floors. At
the top of the eighth, Eric expected the healer to be panting, but he chatted
animatedly with Tiza. He was seemingly oblivious to the stares and whispers of
clerks and courtiers in the hallways. They were more interested in his
relationship with the messy warrior than the Trickster's Choice. Eric felt a
desire to hide the two of them and, suddenly, he was aware of every shadow and
dark corner in the hallway. He knew their size, density, and distance from him
as a flash of insight. He shook his head and focused on their destination.

The throne room was barred
by a double door and the Royal Crest was engraved in the center. The Crowned
Tiger was decorated with rubies and diamonds, and the sun shining on him was
made with gold leaf. The three colors mixed for the crest’s border. Two guards
in ceremonial tiger-style armor stood in front of each door. Basilard showed
them the mission bill and they waved him in.

The queen was declaring
royal proclamations in the presence of commoners and heralds. In other words,
it was a press conference. All the reporters and their cameramen in addition to
the royal entourage made the room stiflingly humid, but what truly bothered
Eric were the crystal spotlights floating overhead. He felt unsettled under so
much light.

Shadow cannot stand
the light,
said a voice in his mind. It was an ancient and mysterious
voice. It was unlike Dengel’s and certainly different from the caricature
Shadow Dengel.
True Darkness absorbs it.
Fear gripped Eric's heart.
Nolien noticed and nudged him.

“Something wrong?”

“No... Everything's
fine.” He turned to his mentor and asked, “Daylra, could you explain how this
works?” He pointed to his staff crystal.

“So you’ve decided on a
mage’s spear, huh? Alright, we've got some time to kill.”

Basilard blinked and
his red eyes glowed, then he looked over the crystal from every angle. This was
a technique called “Magic Sight,” for it allowed its user to see mana as
colored light. Thus, they could see the unseen through the currents of mana
flowing through all of creation. A curious expression spread across his face;
glad and worried at the same time. He blinked to turn off the spell.

“This is called
Soiléir
....a
magical mineral. You can use it to store mana. I’ve heard legends that say it
can steal a god’s divinity. Experiment when you have the time.” 

Kasile finally called
an end and the crowd slowly trickled out. Team Four waited until she was alone,
which meant she only had a couple dozen soldiers, advisers, and
ladies-in-waiting hovering to either side. Right at her elbow was a silver-haired
youth in silver and red finery. This was the new First Duke of Esrah, Siron. He
worked together with Kasile and Eric – technically, Dengel – to defeat the
previous duke, his father. Eric waved to him and Siron acknowledged him with a
small nod.

Basilard approached the
throne, dropped to one knee, and bowed his head. The novices followed suit,
except for Tiza, who preferred to stand. The area immediately around her
suddenly became stifling and she became so faint her knees buckled, at which
point the temperature dropped.

 “Team Four of the
Dragon's Lair, Your Majesty. How may we serve you today?”

Kasile indeed looked
majestic. On her head was a crown of gold with a ring of star-white pearls
orbiting a ruby the size of a grapefruit. Her brown hair shimmered like silk
and the streaks of fire red gleamed in the sunlight. Her gown was tailored to
her form from the high neckline to the bodice and full skirts; the bottom of
her throne was swamped by them. It was a rich red in color and outlined with
gold thread at the hem, waist, sleeves, and neckline. A royal blue slash with
the royal crest was bound to her waist. Her hands were adorned by white gloves
that reached to her shoulders where they disappeared into the gown’s sleeves.
These overlapped the gloves and tapered to a point that resembled a tongue of
fire.

 More than her clothes,
her demeanor had changed. She sat straight against her throne, hands clasped in
her lap, looking slightly down at them. Eric didn't remember her being so...regal.
Princess Kasile always had a twinkle in her eyes, but the eyes of the queen were
cold. They flickered like the fire of someone burning at the stake.

There was a lot of
cleaning up to do when a coup failed. He would know because she told him all
about it last night. After she prevented Selen’s power grab by force of arms,
she hunted his accomplices. With Siron’s help, she arrested, tried, and
punished all of them. That sort of trial-by-fire hardened her into a woman who
would order executions without hesitation or doubt. At the end of the week,
many of the upper echelons of Ataidar's government were empty.

She's no doubt
monitoring their replacements.

“I have a special
mission for each of you.” Even her voice was different. It was a clean and
beautiful blade unlike the cutesy-but-proper tone she affected before. “Mr.
Bladi, your mission is in the Research Tower. The Royal Mage has need of a
consultant for his latest project. He claims it will lead to a breakthrough in
the treatment of mana mutation. Your clan specializes in a related field, and
so I hope you will be able to advise him in the
proper path
he should
take.”

“I'd be honored to
assist such an esteemed mage.”

Her gaze turned to Tiza
and the girl stood a little straighter. “Ms. Sprial, the new recruits have been
complaining about training in the increasingly cold weather, so I want you to
pass out hot chocolate to ease their burdens.” Before Tiza could protest, she
continued, “You may use any other means you find necessary to encourage them to
take their training seriously.”

Tiza grinned like a
maniac. “You know me too well, Princess Tent Burner.”

“That's
Queen
Tent Burner!” Nolien hissed, then paused, then face-palmed. “What am I
saying!?”
Eric and Tiza chuckled, but Kasile didn't curve a lip.

“Mr. Heleti, I –” Kasile
began and, to the shock of all, Nolien interrupted her.

“Forgive me, Your
Majesty, but my surname is 'Iteleh.' I was only born on Heleti lands.”

Kasile arched a fine
eyebrow. “I assumed it was a typo. Heleti spelled backwards, as if The
Trickster altered the registry.”

“That must be it, Your
Majesty.”

 Kasile smiled like the
tiger on her sash. “It would explain why the heir to one of Ataidar's Four
Pillars is in a mercenary guild. The Trickster loves having fun with us,
doesn't he?”

Nolien stiffened and
seemed to shrink under her words. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“You
are
the
team's healer, correct?”

The tension lifted and
he replied again. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Good. It would be
embarrassing for both of us if you weren't. The Royal's Healer's assistant is
absent today and so he needs you to fill in. Can I depend on you?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Mr. Watley. Your
mission I must discuss in private.”

An adviser stepped
forward. “Your Majesty, I must object to this! Alone with a mercenary –”

“That defended the
Crown.” She turned her face in his direction and her eyes narrowed into silts
of fire. “
I hope you are not implying something about
Mr. Watley's character
.”

The man paled and
kowtowed. “No... Your Majesty.”

“
Good
.” Her eyes returned to normal. “I'm glad my
adviser is showing respect for guests.”

“Thank you, Your
Majesty.” The human returned to his place in the entourage.

Kasile arose from her
throne and beckoned Eric, who arose from his kneel and followed her into a
private chamber. Two guards closed the door behind them and the instant she was
out of sight, she clutched Eric. It wasn't a welcome-back hug. She buried her
face in his neck, exhaled, and tension evaporated by the bucket. It was a
needy
hug. All her royal dignity was gone; she was just a girl that that needed a
hug. Eric held her as long as she wanted. Her body was warm against his own,
very warm.
Being queen must be harder than she thought
.

Sometime later, she
withdrew but still stood close to him and she didn't look nearly so imposing up
close. Her neck strained to hold up the ancestral crown. With all the metal and
gems, it had to weigh several pounds. Instead of magnificent, her gown appeared
tight and heavy. Her previous burrowing had smudged her make-up and Eric saw
shadows under her eyes.