CH.2 escaping the castle
Tap, tap, tap. My foot taps impatiently on the floor, waiting for Xander to arrive. I squint into the sky, scanning for his piercing amber eyes. Thankfully he arrives with little delay; not even thirty seconds have ticked by when he appears, brown feathers flapping against the rain. Gently he lands on my arm, his wet beak affectionately pecking my cheek.
"I'm fine, boy—nothing to worry about. We're leaving the castle now, ok?" I mumble quietly, my left hand stroking his cheek.
Xander stares at me for a few seconds, a stern expression on his face, oddly human for a hawk. Suddenly, Knight reveals himself from behind Rose's legs and barks happily at Xander. If a bird could roll his eyes, Xander would; as it is he caws almost superciliously and lifts off my arm, soaring directly over head. His bright hawk eyes watch each of us tenderly.
"Bloody bird's too smart for its own good," Walter mumbles, tousling his graying hair.
"Let's go," Rose says, jerking her head to the right. Her delicate hand, a shade of the loveliest strawberry cream, petting Knight affectionately, her wide brown eyes stare sadly at the rain.
Sister has not even taken a step forward when Walter murmurs, "It's time to see if you're ready."
Rose pauses and says cautiously, "Ready for what?" Her narrow shoulders tense slightly.
"To be your mother's daughter," he states simply, a proud gleam in his dark eyes.
Jasper interjects, "Very good; I will pack some essentials."
Walter shakes his head. "There's no time. We take nothing."
"We won't even take…pajamas?" Jasper gasps, as if the very idea is absurd.
"Yes, Walter, how could you possibly suggest a world without pajamas? Not to bring them should be a crime against man!" I spew sarcastically, an impish smile on my face.
Jasper sighs, but he gives in without a fuss. Walter points to the door and says, "Come on, we must leave now."
Jasper nods, agreeing wholeheartedly, and says, "Don't worry, madam. I shall follow you wherever fate may take us."
Envious of his dogged loyalty to her, I feel a gnarled root start tugging at my stomach; however, before it can take hold, I push it out and calmly follow Rose.
We walk at a brisk pace as Walter prattles on, his voice filled with self-loathing, "I should have done something in the throne room…I should have stopped him."
Jasper sadly shakes his head and says, "All that would have accomplished would have been your own death."
Unconvinced, Walter turns to Rose and says with pitying eyes, "Still, maybe I should have taken you away sooner."
The conversation seems to make Rose realize something, for she stops next to me and says tentatively, "Sister…you know it wasn't your fault, right? You did everything anybody could possibly do. Raven, are you…?"
"SHHHHHH!"I snap, holding out my hand to silence her, head jerking up.
There, right above our heads, are my white curtains, fluttering in the breeze: windows open. The open windows are not a concern; how else would Xander have been able to come to me? However, the dark figure watching from my window is not a good sign.
Logan stared painfully at me, hands clutching his face, his newly scarred lips a disturbing red.
"Broken," he whispered, voice void of all emotion, eyes blank, "I'm just a broken little toy."
Without hesitation I kneeled on the rug, my hand peeling his from his face; I held it gently. "But with enough help, can't broken toys be fixed?"
In a flash, Logan had tightly wrapped his arms around me and sank his face in my shoulder. Not a sob escaped his lips but the profound meaning rooted in this gesture was not lost to me.
"I won't leave you, Logan, not now, not ever…that's a promise."
"Sister, what was that? What did you see?" Rose asks curiously, glancing at the ghostly curtains.
"Nothing…it's nothing at all," I lie adeptly, flashing a gleaming smile. I suppose now I know how Xander knew about my distress.
Rose peers at me with uncertainty, but thankfully says nothing as we walk in a brisk pace, down a flight of curving stone steps, into the garden. We quickly catch up with Walter and Jasper.
Rubbing his palms together, Jasper mumbles, "There is something rather sinister about this garden at night."
Snorting, I say, "Not to mention the Author doing a horrible job at the passing time. Can't she even write in an extra day to build up the plot?"
They all stop to stare at me, eyes lingering, searching for signs of madness. They remain this way, silently appraising me, until Walter shouts out, "What in blazes are you talking about?"
"Nothing, I'm just breaking the fourth wall." They all gawk at each other incredulously after that comment, but wisely don't mention it again.
"Where are we going?" Rose says, eyes flickering nervously at the dark garden. "I thought we were leaving the castle."
"We are," Walter agrees, staring blankly at the scenery, "but there's something we must do first."
Suddenly we screech to a halt, right in front of the Catacomb, right in front of the graves of the late King and Queen. My breath hitches in my throat as I think, Mother.
Yet, the sight of the Catacomb itself doesn't depress me. I haven't dared to visit it much since her passing, but I see now that her mausoleum does not bear the grim, ominous foreboding of death. It is instead a celebration of life—it projects exactly what mother deserves. The building is pale, stark white, sparkling silver from the moon's tranquil beam, with a statue of her and her husband each standing tall and proud.
Finally Walter says flatly, devoid of all emotion, "It's time we paid our respect to Albion's last Hero."
Jasper sighs heavily. "I never thought I'd enter this place again."
"You should have known better," Walter says morosely, as he watches Rose push the heavy stone door with ease.
Only once do I glance back at the castle, its quietly morbid atmosphere daunting, then with a finale sigh, I bid my childhood home a silent farewell, and follow the others.
The inside does not reflect the peaceful façade of the opening. It is dark and depressing, and the drip, drip, drip of water makes an eerie echo along the mossy stone walls. No one can say it is a small tomb; it is easily twice as large as the average home.
Walter starts to speak again, his voice serious, "The night your mother died, I promised her I would take you here one day, when you were old enough, and strong enough. This is your history. This is your legacy."
Sister and I stop at the two bright white coffins resting beside each other. Sadly, she traces her hand along the top of her parents' tombs, wiping away years of dust. Rose's father had died when I was just four, so I never forged much of an emotional bond with him; however, as I look at mother's tomb, the image of a bright, smiling, caring woman haunts my mind. In my head, her laughter is still echoing as loud as the water splashing in this tomb.
"The world has been too long without a Hero," Walter explains, dark eyes glancing at a stone angel, its empty eyes melancholy and weeping, looming over Mother and her husband's grave, "but I'm hoping that it will have one soon."
Kneeling at a stone wall, right in front of mother's tomb, he gives one of the slabs a push, sliding it back and hitting an invisible lever. With a mechanical creak, the angel's hands leave her face, snapping in front of Rose, palms open, offering a gift. On them is a seal of some sort, round in shape and as big as my head.
Walter stands up and brushes the dust off of his knees, saying, "This is your mother's most treasured possession, the Guild Seal. It chooses those who have the power inside them, those who have the potential to become legends. Take it."
Tentatively, sister reaches for the gold and blue seal, but suddenly she stops, her hand hovering over it like the slightest touch would burn. Finally, she snatches it, gently rubbing her thumb over the top, tracing the outside with affection.
"Is something supposed to happen?" she asked wonderingly.
Suddenly a bright light emits from the seal, and Rose lets out a blood-curdling scream. Bright light blinds me, making my eyes weep with pain. In desperation, I try to shield them, but it's like my body's frozen in time, unable to move.
Then, the light vanishes, and Sister reappears before me, standing on a circle that seemed to be…glowing? And why is Rose wearing seemingly aflame gauntlets?
"Well," Walter says, curiously looking, completely unaware of the flames or the fact we moved ten feet, "do you…do you feel any different?"
Didn't either of them see the fire, or the confused look on her face, or the million questions lingering on her lips?
"I-I don't know," whispered Rose, eyes darting to and fro, tracing her new, odd gauntlets.
"Try casting a spell," Walter suggests gently. "That's supposed to be our only way of getting out of here."
"You might have mentioned that earlier," gripes Jasper, giving Walter a disproving look.
"And spoil the surprise?" Walter asks, laughing.
Jasper just shakes his head and mutters something like, "And he's a grown man."
Slowly, Rose spreads her arms and curls her palms into fists, breathing in, then BAM! Her fists catch fire and she slams them onto the ground, fire vibrating on the odd circle beneath her. Slowly, both mother and her husband's tomb slide slowly apart, revealing a dark, wet cave…balls.
"It bloody worked! You really are a Hero!" Walter crows triumphantly.
"I never doubted it for a second," Jasper says proudly, his head held high.
"Well, of course, neither did I. Still…it bloody worked!"
"Yes, sister," I snort. "You did an amazing job of moving our parents' long dead corpses, so kudos to you."
"You always know just what to say, don't you sister?" Rose mutters sarcastically, rolling her eyes.
"Of course I do." I add incoherently, "Now let's go before I change my mind."
"What was that, sister?" Rose asks, as both she and Knight cock their heads to the side.
Perhaps it should unnerve me that Rose and her dog are so in sync, but as of right now it takes all of my self-control not to laugh.
"Nothing, nothing—just wondering what would happen if you lost control of your magic. I mean, you'd possibly burn to death or worse," I state, a disturbingly cheerful smile on my face.
Paler than a ghost, Rose touches her arm then scowls, griping, "Shut up," to me and stomps her way down into the passage.
Hesitantly, I stop at the entrance, anxiously twirling my naturally curly bangs, and I glance at Walter to see that he had stopped, too, biting his lip and glancing back at the entrance. Finally, he turns and gives me a sympathetic stare. I will have none of that, so, swiftly, I walk down the moss-covered steps and into the dark creepy cave.
At the sides lie empty boxes, unused and unwanted, cobwebs claiming them as their home. Yellow candles sit to the left of us, still burning brightly despite the considerable lack of attention. Knowing Mother, she enchanted them; making them near indestructible…Mother always did love her little tricks.
Thankfully, when I am faced with fear, my face becomes passive, body ready to take flight. Walter, however, is a different story. "Somewhat narrow, isn't it? Dark too," he protests, eyes shifting to and fro.
Jasper responds, curiously and somewhat teasingly, "You never did care for confined spaces, did you, Sir Walter?"
"I never did care for being poked in the eye or having my head chopped off, what of it?"
"Oh dear, I seem to have struck a nerve."
"How about if I strike a butler on the bonce," Walter snapped, glaring threateningly at Jasper's head.
Sighing, Rose continues to test her new powers, lighting the inside of some round metal holders ablaze. Happily, the narrow space is short-lived, and we arrive at a ledge, the cave now brightly lit by sunlight seeping through the cracks. However, it appears as if the cave goes on forever. With new found joy, Xander pushes off my shoulder and soars upward into the greater heights of death trap.
"Ah, now this is more like it!" Walter bellows, raising both arms in emphasis of the large space, "Grand and spacious, a plentiful supply of oxygen…just the way a castle's escape route should be."
Walter's great degree of relief is lost on me, as the only difference between the tight hallway and this is that you can't see the falling rock coming. However, because I want to preserve Walter's sanity as best as I can—and also avoid getting punched by Rose for my smart mouth—I say nothing.
We turn to the left, allowing the dirt path to guide us silently, until Jasper inquires, "I hesitate to ask, but what is our plan? Other then leaving the castle far behind us, which I wholly approve of…" he says. "…obviously." He adds this last part uncomfortably, fiddling with the blue bow that ties his silver hair as he jogs.
"It's simple, we have stop Logan," Walter replies off-handedly, as if he's talking about tomorrow's lunch.
Rose screeches to a halt, the uncertainty on her face as clear as the stars in the sky…if you could see the stars in this bloody dank cave.
"How am I supposed to do that?" Rose demands, wringing her hands. "Even if I am a Hero, I'm just one person."
"Don't be silly sister; you can obviously do this all by your sweet little self. In fact, we should just go to Logan and ask him! Then unicorns and rainbows will burst out, and Reaver will magically appear! He will then declare that he has forsaken his evil ways, and will no longer force children to work, and give his workers fair pay! Oh, it's all simply moving, isn't it?" I flutter my eyelashes and giggle.
Walter chuckles good-naturedly and jokes, "Not sure which is more believable; unicorns or the Reaver bit."
Pretending to be deep in thought, I cross my arms and tilt my head, then declare proudly, "Clearly the unicorns; while it's plausible in the beginning of my tale, everything after rainbows is just utter nonsense."
"Exactly," Walter replies, his simple chuckle melding into a deep, throaty laugh, but stops himself as he looks to Rose. "That is why we need allies. And lots of them: once you prove what you are, people will follow you, and many of them will be willing to fight. But they need a leader, someone to believe in. Albion needs nothing less than a revolution."
"Don't forget rainbows and unicorns; they are clearly the deciding factors," I say mockingly, leaning back against a rocky wall.
I see a snarky remark on the tip of Rose's tongue, but before she can say it, Knight's canine head snaps up, barking as he sniffs the air, and Xander's piercing cry rings out above us.
"Blast, they're bats! Take cover," Jasper cries, already using his arms as shields.
"Well, young Hero, this is your chance to show us what…" Walter begins. He's cut off suddenly by a deafening bang. A tiny bat body falls from above; blood squirts from its chest.
Lifting a brow, I cough expectantly, an innocent smile on my face. I blow lightly on my pistol's smoking barrel.
"And of course I wouldn't dream of leaving you out, princess," Walter says, far too cheerful as he slaughters the rats of the sky.
"Of course you wouldn't," I agree mockingly, shooting at more bats, their shrill screams a symphony to my ears.
As we prattle on, Rose scorches legions of bats, their tiny bodies like levitating candles. Walter starts using his pistol as well. However, to my deep satisfaction, he has missed twice, while I never waste a bullet.
Then, a perfect moment arrives, and time stands still. This is unlike in the incident in the cave, where I felt as if spikes were being shoved in my very soul. No, it is as if my senses are so heightened that I can see and hear everything around me. Rapidly, I feel my finger pull the slick, shiny trigger and my silver bullet pierces three shrieking bats. Not one, not even two; but three with one bullet.
Shortly after, the remaining bats flee, scared off by either the fire or the loud bang of the guns.
"Excellent! Did you see that, Jasper? Did you see it?" Walter bellows, ruffling Rose's hair, draping his arm around my shoulder.
Jasper stops flailing his arms, and with what little of his dignity remains, straightens his hair and clothes, saying, "Indeed, your mother would have proud, madams."
"Well, I know I am," Walter grins, finally letting us go, leaving our hair thoroughly mussed. He adds, gesturing forward, "Come on."
Then, he pauses, a devious smirk on his face and, seeming unable to resist, Walter teases Jasper, "And I'm proud of you, too, old friend. I've never seen a man cower with such grace."
Defensively, Jasper snaps, "It is merely a matter of hygiene; bats are absolutely filthy creatures."
Tilting his head back, Walter chortles, and then says, "Anyway, I think we've just seen the first proof of what you can do. You are the Hero who will lead this land in a revolution; bats are just the beginning."
"Don't you be absurd, Walter," I retort sarcastically, tinged with a faint undertone of bitterness. Kneeling down to pick up a used bullet, I say, "Obviously, bats are the strongest enemy we will ever face."
"What are you doing?" Rose asks, curiosity lacing her every word.
Flipping the bullet in the air, I catch it and answer, a bit distracted, "It's a trophy of the first bat I killed, although I imagine this will seem insignificant in time, from all the more important and powerful things I will kill."
Chuckling, Rose sighs tiredly and says, "I'm not sure whether to call you optimistic, crazy, or cocky."
"Why not all three?" I smirk. I twirl my gun, admiring its shiny, smooth surface, and then jam it back in its holster.
Rose rolls her eyes and punches my arm in a way she probably considered to be "lightly." However, even her lightest of hits is sure to leave a bruise later. "Not so rough sister, you'll mark my delicate skin!" I tease half honestly, rubbing my limb tenderly.
Snorting, Rose says, "I think you'll live."
Rose starts to walk away, but before she can finish her step I drape my arm across her shoulders and say, "Now, enlighten me on what happened before the throne room, dear sister."
Rose easily jerks out of my hold and turns around, her back facing me. If I had to bet, I'd wager her brown eyes stared sadly at the ceiling of the lonely cave.
"I don't feel like talking about it, please understand," she whispers, her voice sadly melodious.
I do understand, to some extent, her grief, her sadness, her anger. Yet, I also understand that if she doesn't say it now, she will never say it. Rose is a person that lets worry and grief build up inside of her, letting others feel at peace when she has none, and eventually she breaks. We can't afford for her to break.
So, crossing my arms and leaning back in a, hopefully, cocky manner I say, "Rose, if I follow you, I want to know you're doing it for reasons I approve of, so if you don't tell me what happened before my intervention, I'll gladly find another way out of the castle." Well, that wasn't totally a lie: I could, maybe, find a different route, and forget all of this. But it would be hard to escape now that Logan had seen me even with my vast knowledge of the dark, and secret, corners of the castle.
Rose spins around, facing me, a deep frown on her pretty pink lips, and, sighing, she says sadly, "If you insist sister, I will tell you."
Rose hesitates for a moment, but only a moment, and then she begins speaking, brown eyes a liquid chocolate. "I was training with Walter, thing were going normally…well, better than normally." A tormented chuckle, ghostly and morose, lingers on her lips. "I broke his sword…he was so proud."
"Is," I correct, sensing an unneeded air of depression, "he is proud."
"Right," Rose agrees, smiling softly at me. "Anyway, he was about to say something, probably about this revolution, but Elliot interrupted, telling us to look out at the main gate. There were protesters, holding up signs…demanding the death of the king. Then, Walter yelled that he was going to try to reason with Logan, and he went to the war room; Elliot suggested we follow him."
"And you agreed." It wasn't a question; suddenly things were starting to make sense.
"Yes, Elliot and I saw that all the guards had moved from the stairs, and we were able to sneak right outside of the war room. We spied on them through the key hole."
It's almost amusing that Rose looks more ashamed that she spied then that she snuck into an area restricted to her to begin with. Now that I think about it, it is odd. Why wasn't Rose allowed to go to the war room when I was? Most likely, because Logan knew that everything Rose saw or heard would go right to Elliot sooner or later. Logan never did trust Elliot…or nobles, or most of the people he met.
"We saw Logan giving orders to his men, and he told them to kill the ring leaders and, if necessary, the others as well. Walter told him to stop, but Logan's soldier hit his knee and made him kneel before him…Logan ordered to never tell him what to do. Then, Elliot convinced me to try to talk him out of it, and, well…you know the rest," Rose finishes, her voice breaking at the end.
Oh, for the love of…no wonder he was angry. It doesn't excuse what he did but…still, at least I know why he was upset. My brow furrows, and suddenly I tense, feeling as if something should happen right now. Hmm…best to just ignore it for now.
"What in blazes is holding you two up?" Walter calls, scowling, and walks back towards us, with Jasper, annoyed, in tow.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, waiting for them to be in hearing range. When they are close enough I mumble, "Rose just told me what happened before the trial.
Confused, Walter scratches his head and says gruffly, "So what of it? Why do you look so bloody annoyed?"
Annoyed…is that the word? Hmm…maybe it is. "Why did either of you geniuses think that objecting to Logan's orders openly, in front of his subjects and guards, would be a good idea?"
"Oh," Walter says, finally understanding the magnitude of his error. Rose, however, who hasn't the slightest interest in politics, and has never been allowed to watch a trial, does not understand the implication.
So, crossing her arms and tilting her head, Rose asks, "So what if we did? He was wrong and someone had to stop him."
Groaning, I pinch the bridge of my nose harder and say, "Let's say for one wild moment you're Logan and you're the ruler of Albion. And let's also say that to get anything done, you must have the respect of all your staff guards, in addition to all of your kingdom's citizens. Now, just for giggles here, let's say one day your most trusted adviser openly opposes you—in front of the people whose trust you desperately need.
"Now, almost directly after that, your little sister does the same exact thing, under the power of a startling persuasive boy who makes your followers question how much power you really have."
"Oh," Rose says softly. Then: "Oh," as she fully grasps the meaning of my words.
Rose rubs her arm uncomfortably, her face a swirling red mixture of embarrassment and shame. Then, in a last moment of redemption, she demands, "And what would you do, Raven? Would you just watch as those people died?"
Sighing, I rub my forehead and say, "I would have asked him to go with me and discuss it in another room."
Rose says nothing, eyes cast down. Slowly, her gaze locks with mine, and she says, "Does that justify what he did, then? Is that the reason he did… this? You tell me Raven; you know him best."
Rose's watery brown eyes plead for answers. Walter and Jasper look at me as well, not quite pleading, but rather a scholarly curiosity. Then I realize that I truly do know Logan best.
Anxious, I twist my hair and say, "I-I don't know, on both accounts. That isn't like Logan…he doesn't lose his head quickly…he…" Logan doesn't do thing a without a reason even if it's lost to you.
So I thought—but what do I know? They're still staring at me, waiting for an answer, until I finish, "Anyway…um, let's go before the ground opens up and swallow us, yes?"
All three of them wear childlike-expressions, as if they stayed up past bedtime to listen to a story that had no end. However, they, thankfully, say nothing, knowing my need for quiet, but being less aware of its origin. Silently, we start to walk down the dirt slope, passing the crumbling, cobweb-adorned, once-white weeping angels. Wooden torches show us the way; old, long-forgotten buildings stand, barely off the path.
Suddenly, the path morphs into something similar to a slide, forcing us to sprint, as we try not to crash into each other. Tentatively, we regain our balance as the slope stops at a staircase of moss-covered stones, their sides crumbling away; brown, murky cave water laps at the bottom step.
Rose and I are the first to have full confidence in our ability to stand straight, so, coolly, we traipse down the steps. Lost in my own head, I don't stop walking until I feel dark, murky water wash over my foot. Rose, a few steps behind me, squeals when her shoe gets wet, and splashes wildly, yanking her feet out and hopping up to the next-highest steps.
All of a sudden, I hear the flapping of tiny wings, and Walter says, "More bats! Get ready to cast some magic, Rose, and Raven, try to hit them like you did back there!"
Snorting, I say, "Try? My dear Walter, you're clearly misjudging my abilities."
Snapping, Walter retorts, "Just shut your yap and shoot the bloody gun!"
Rolling my eyes, I do as he says, hitting each of their puny little hearts, quickly mastering the ability I used before. Xander helps too, using his knife-like claws to crush the vermin, making an oddly satisfying crunching noise. Knight pitches in as well, biting the low-flying bats and snapping their necks. Despite the mass swarm of bats, it takes little time at all to finish them off; not even one lives.
From the top of the stairs Jasper calls, "Another impressive display, madams," then he sighs and directs the rest of his words to Rose, "To think, this morning, my job consisted of laying out clothes for royalty. Now I'm a midnight snack for bats!"
Chuckling, Walter responds, "You'll get used to it."
After a few more steps, the crumbling rocks become too much for me, and I start to hum my favorite song, the one mother sang to me. Almost immediately after I start to hum, a horrible aroma sneaks its way into my nostrils. It's a sewer tunnel: one wall has a mutated green slug hanging from it, and the floor is concealed by dark brown water.
"You might want to cover your nose from here on," Walter advises dryly. "These are the Bowerstone sewers."
Almost immediately after, that the vermin of the sky reappear yet again. (Good God, where the hell are they coming from? We've already murdered hundreds of them!) Walter shouts, "You might want to cover your eyes too, Jasper. More bats!"
After an epic…oh God, who am I kidding? It was bloody boring. Not even our two loyal animals got a chance to help before we killed them all. In fact, I never even had to stop humming.
Bored, I shove my gun back into its holster wall Walter says proudly, "You've certainly got the hang of that spell. Shall we proceed?" Chipper, he says to Jasper, "Well, that sure was quick. Rose's pet didn't even get to participate—and Knight didn't assist us, either." With a sparkle in his eye, he winks jovially.
"Ha ha," Jasper replies flatly, curling his lip in distaste.
As we're about to step forward, Walter scowls and snaps, "Who's bloody humming?"
This makes me stop my chipper salvation and gripe, "Me; does it offend you in some way? If not, leave me alone."
Rose, ever the peace keeper, asks, "So, what are you singing?"
In answer I sing,
"Down by the Reeds.
Down by the Reeds.
Swim the sirens of Oakvale.
Out to the Seas.
Down by the Reeds.
Down by the Reeds.
Float the souls left unbroken by White Balverines.
Down by the Reeds.
Night-Blooming weeds embrace those who go dancing, in sad moonlit dreams.
Down by the Reeds.
A twisted Path Leads.
To Banshee's who breathe out.
A cold winter breeze.
Nobody Knows.
Nobody Sees.
The sirens Of Oakvale.
Down by the Reeds."
All of them blink once, twice. Finally, they seem to accept whatever madness I have now, and we go into the tunnel.
A frown graces my face as I stare at my once clean riding boots, now covered in muck. Turning around, though, I decide this is much better than the hell pit behind me.
"Well, at least we don't have to worry about rocks falling and crushing us here," I say wistfully, then, almost happily, walk into the sewer, Xander landing gracefully on my shoulder.
At my comment, Walter turns pale as snow, glancing back nervously at the cave. Thankfully, Jasper starts talking before Rose can hit me for distressing Walter. "Ugh, what an unusual stench; I daresay we must be somewhere beneath Bowerstone Industrial."
"Very likely," Walter nods, trying to distract himself. "Not the safest place for us right now, but we should be able to find a way out of the city once we reach the surface."
With a few steps, my ridiculously long legs easily catch up to Rose. Walking directly behind her, still out of ear-shot from the other two, I whisper in a teasing voice, "They sure are chatty, whatever for?"
This time Rose punches me, leaving me clutching my arm, a very dirty curse streaming from my lips. Quickly, Rose curves to the left, heading down a path that leads to a smashed brick wall with a gaping hole in it, leaving us a large opening. At first, it looks like the same disgusting damp sewer we just abandoned, until the short tunnel stops and we see something that must have taken years to construct. A walk way is enflamed with candles on both sides, and pine trees still live, resting on their little islands. Ivy covers the walls, and pillars, though broken, stand strong.
"Mother must have had a lot of time on her hands," I gasp, in awe with the splendor.
"It appears to be a dead end," Jasper frets, too worried to hear my comment.
This isn't totally true: at the end of the platform there appears to be a large gild seal engraved on the ground. It's in the center of a circular platform, and once every few seconds it seems to…spark? As if waiting for someone.
"Not quite," Walter replies stroking his large mustache.
"What is that?" Rose asks hesitantly, dancing around the circle, her large brown eyes darting to it then back to Walter.
"I'm pretty sure it's a Cullis Gate, sort of a magical transportation system for Heroes," Walter says, shrugging, eyes lingering on a random tree.
Wait…he's only pretty sure? So if he's wrong then…oh bugger.
Jasper doesn't appear to notice my inner thoughts, because he calmly says, "I was under the impression that Cullis Gates were all gone."
"Does no one else notice he said pretty sure? No, it was just me? Alright, I'll just stand here quietly…somewhat," I say sarcastically, watching Rose roll her eyes at my stupidity.
Just as I predicted, they both ignore me, and Walter says, "Well, it looks like there's one left, at least. Your mother must have placed this here, in case she ever needed to use it," he finishes, friendly warmth in his eyes.
Jasper nods, sharing Walter's pain, then says, "It's the same symbol that we saw by the tomb. Do you suppose it's activated in the same way?"
Cheerfully, Walter answers, "Well, there's only one way to find out. You know what to do."
Exited I ball my hands into fists and say, "Burn it, burn it, burn…what?" They exchange puzzled glances. "That magic thing's cool." I snap as all three give me odd stares.
Ross mutters under her breath, "Crazy." She stands in the center, and then lifts her hand, creating fire with it. An orange glow surrounds her, and then turns blue. However, before I can see anything else, the same blue light surrounds me, blinding me with an impeccable light.
Every maid, servant, and even cook is scattered, looking desperately for the two missing princesses. I'd tried to give them a head start and pretend I didn't see them in the drizzling rain, but Raven's daily schedule was their undoing, in the end. Apparently, every night for the past year, a young maid would sneak into the larder and wait for Raven to show. When she did appear, the maid would give Raven the key to the cellar door, under the promise she would never get drunk. So far Raven has kept her word, only drinking, at most, two drinks a night. Raven probably would have done that anyway; she's like me—paranoid. However, she does enjoy fighting much more than I do.
The maid had waited hours, but Raven never came. Worried about her long-time friend, the maid made haste to Raven's room, only to find a dark, made bed and an empty bird perch. After she had heard about me and Raven's…erg, falling out, the young maid feared for Raven's life, and went to tell Rose the news. Much to the maid's surprise, Rose was gone as well. Panicking, she ran to a guard, sobbing her story to him, barely able to get any words across her lips, let alone a coherent sentence. However the guard appeared to be able to speak woman and immediately went out to find the other guards. They tried to ask how, or better yet, why she knows of their disappearance.
Despite their valiant effort they learned nothing, and were forced to contact me. The woman had put up a good attempt to not answer my questions, but it seems my black eyes are more frightening than a group of trained soldiers, because not even three minutes after questioning her, she sobbed even louder and emitted her guilt. It didn't surprise me she had been doing this for Raven; it surprised me even less when I saw her carrying bags of food and clothes Raven's size. For her safety, however, I didn't ask why she had them. I advised she resign and find a different job, before people started pointing fingers.
The guards were frenzied after that, quickly discovering the missing beds of Walter and Jasper. To avoid a public scandal, I had to rule it kidnapping, although anyone who knows the two girls even remotely realized that there would be blood if anyone tried to kidnap them.
So here I am now in the war room, standing over the 3D map, watching the first rays of sunlight shine through the curtains. Despite many people's assumptions, my biggest concern was not their whereabouts. Knowing Raven's luck, they are probably in a dark cave and she is twirling her hair until it stands up, singing Mother's disturbing lullaby. No—currently I'm wondering if the servant's gossip has reached that deviant yet. If so, I have to prepare for a headache.
In fact, I glance at the bottle of red wine hidden under the table, thinking about taking my mind off it, but toss the idea aside; I never drink during the day. Then, the reason of my drinking schedule bursts through the sound proof door. Twirling his black cane in a dramatic fashion, he bows, his abnormally large top hat surprisingly staying on his head, and he says, "Your most gracious Majesty, I heard the most horrible news! So my little dove has flown the coop, has she? And the other one as well, the brown haired one…hmm, what is her name…ah, Rose, that's it!"
I have never allowed Rose to be within thirty feet of Reaver, to his amusement and Rose's confusion. In fact, because he's never been allowed to see her, his running "joke" is that he never remembers her name, simply referring to Rose as the brown haired girl. Raven, on the other hand, is a different story. She met Reaver even before me, although it was merely a few seconds. Since then he has nicknamed her "little dove," something he only does to people he likes…or hates. He called Mother "the annoying wench."
Now that I think about it…didn't I ask the guard not to let anyone in? Just as I am about to ask, I notice a large blood stain, sinking into the carpet by the door.
Scowling, I snap, "Reaver, stop killing my men! There are only so many!"
His dirty brown eyes don't even blink. His pale lips remain in that permanent cocky smirk, as if killing a random man isn't something to concern you about. And to him, it isn't.
Pouting, he tilts his head, black hair getting in his eyes, and says, "But he annoyed me! To think, the nerve of not letting me, Reaver, in! Who does he think he is? Or was, I suppose," he smirks, glancing back at the growing blood puddle.
"Well, we've had enough of that!" Reaver says cheerfully, ridiculously long legs easily taking him to my side, "I'm here to…comfort you, in your time of need," he leers, trying to pat my shoulder.
"Don't you dare touch me," I hiss, jerking away from him. "What do you want, Reaver?"
He pouts again, but don't appear to be all that concerned—he never is. "Not up for a bit of sport, Majesty? Very well, Majesty: I notice the little brats in the city still have much too much time on their tiny hands, despite our noble efforts to occupy their time! So I was thinking…"
"Reaver, stop, we will discuss this in the throne room, later," I groan, slicking back my hair.
Sighing, Reaver turns in a flourish, his long white coat twirling with him, and says, "Very well, your Majesty, I shall be at my mansion if ever needed. And I'm sure that I will be! Tatty-bye now!" He then slams my door, leaving this room and my castle behind.
