Chapter 3: A Door opens ajar

Downstairs almost every bar table is occupied. Tired, drunk men with their companions huddle around a table with beer mugs and empty plates. Tess crosses the room carrying a tray of food and beer. I follow her to a table near the fireplace where Greg was sitting with a hooded figure. He sees me and I sit across from him while Tess place supper and drinks on the table. Then she places a plate of roast chicken pieces, small plate of mashed potatoes, cup of butter, a bowl of vegetable salad and stale bread.

"Sweety, yer plate and utensils will be right out," says Tess, wiping a hand on her apron, while the other hand balances the tray. "Ah, there's Bog' right now. Here Bog! Over here ye, scout."

I turn to where she was looking and see a blue dog carrying a tray by its mouth walking towards us with six legs. The dog's blue fur has bright markings so intricately made in curvy patterns. It heads this way carrying the tray of empty plates and silverware by the mouth. The dog slides it on our table and obediently sits on four legs while two of its other legs tuck in front, in a begging position. The dog tilts its head perking its pointed-ears up, with tongue lolling out of its smiling dog-face. Two gentle eyes blink up at me while the middle three eyes were closed slits. Usually, this breed of dogs would have all five eyes open for perfect vision seeing multiple things at the same time, this one chooses to focus with only two.

"Bog is me kalestri dog. Trained to wait wit' me when tables are full. You can pet 'im if ye like" - I hesitantly tickled the dog's ear, it makes a whiny noise that mysteriously echoed - "he's not to hurt no one, in fact he is loved by many of me customers.

"He's not like the other mutts. I'm not sure why 'e only opens two bug eyes, I think he's jus' tryin' to blend in with' them other dogs ye know what I mean? He's got none of them hair on his back like other kalestries. Yeah, I found him strayin' along the market, he's from caves of wonders, ye know? Pass the ports from 'ere. Travelled a little too far from home, didn't ye mutt? Now let's go silly blue na'vi, we must leave 'em to finally eat. Well lookie 'ere, 'tis gettin' late all ready, must start cleanin'..."

I turn to Greg who crossed his arms on the table as if something bothered him. The hooded person sitting in front started eating.

"You were enveloping her in a close world Mr. Sabor," hisses a man's voice underneath the hood. "The mage should not have done so in the first place and now you've been allowing her all these years. I am a little disappointed, but I understand the circumstances. We will have to make do."

Greg sighs looking at me with sad grey eyes. What? I want to ask but I turn to the direction of his gaze. My mother is sitting on a short stool in front of the fireplace. Her curly hair shimmer red and gold radiantly by the dancing fire. She seems to be in a trance watching the flames. I bite my lip and look back at Greg who started to eat. I am hungry but my appetite is now hungry for answers as to what is going on.

Almost all the tables in the inn have emptied. It is getting really late and every traveller is leaving. Gradually, our table becomes the most occupied.

"Now." The stranger clears his throat. "As I was saying -"

Before he could continue a ghoul squeezes into the door. Welcoming itself, it orders a drink. Its eyes catch our table. It makes a humming noise and the last few customers leave the inn at the sight of the demon, leaving our table, my mother by the fire, and Tess busy in the kitchen. Count the blue dog and the mysterious moglins too.

The ghoul looks over its shoulder; it was looking at us with black empty eye sockets with nothing but fluorescent green pupils. It wears dark pants, showing off dark green skeleton-like body of bones, skin and muscles. Tess gives it a beer mug, treating it like every customer. Its clawed-hand takes the handle. Not leaving its eyes off our table, it drinks. The hooded guy in front of me nods in the path of the ghoul's stare. I turn away just as I hear the ghoul getting up and walking towards our table. I hear the growling noise behind me and reach for my dagger.

"He's not looking for a fight, Miss dur Gahl," explains the stranger, he finally takes off his hood using fingers that dazzle with gold rings and rubies. "Have a seat." He reveals to me a stern face with black sleek hair and pointy elf ears.

He looks entirely human except for the broad face of a warrior and the pointy ears. How does he know my real last name? He's an elf. His lined expression makes me put away my dagger. I feel air leave my lungs. He's an elf. Before I can say anything the ghoul behind me introduces himself.

"Ghoul guard," says the ghoul with a raspy voice. "I am at your service."

The demon's green face is skeleton-like, it almost looks as if he is made of green skin and bones, but the muscles along its arms were visible. His rib cage and entire abdomen bends and I can tell he is awkwardly bowing down. The green head before me has a pointy nose, grinning mouth with sharp teeth, large chin, hollow cheek bones, large friendly pupils and long pointy ears.

I acknowledge the ghoul with a nod, I do not mind him. In fact, I could befriend this particular stranger in pants. What bothers me more is the elf man eating before me. My mother has been telling me all these years that elves do not exist anymore. This elf man is an elf.

"Miss dur Gahl, your training sessions are almost through," begins the elf. "And once we spend a day at Greengaurd we will challenge your skills with the sword. Afterwards inform you of your next mission."

I cast him a harsh gaze. Who does he think he is? The elf king? I remain quiet. My mouth will explode later.

He proceeds, impervious to my gaze. "I am afraid that this is rather overwhelming for you since your parents have kept so many closed doors in front of you your whole life. At last, doors are to be opened tonight, if you allow us."

The ghoul settles silently on a nearby table. Sitting to face us, he comically tilts his head to the side looking through space.

"I have been trying to forgive myself," whispers my mother, turned away from me, facing the fire. "I was trying to protect you, Arakelle..."

"She was protected," the elf utters. "Now she is to finish what you have started."

"Started?" I firmly ask with a heartless tone. "I wonder what you started, mother." This is rather new. Surely, my mother knew about this when I was born, yet she raised me to be a clueless idiot. Am I ever going to forgive her? Maybe not.

"Have you ever set foot at the eastern part of this world, Miss dur Gahl? Have you ever explored the DwarfholdMountains, steered a ship to YokaiIslands and travelled to Swordhaven and the Neverglades?"

I shake my head. Of course I haven't, can we move on?

"I did not think so. You were raised to only read one chapter of the Book of Lore."

"That did not occur to me before," I say sarcastically, avoiding his gaze.

"Have you ever wondered why you and your mother are cursed to travel a lot, instead of stay in one place to settle in one house, like other families? Have you ever asked yourself why your mother travels to certain places where she can find an array of potions?"

"Am I going to be bombarded with more questions and no answers?" I reply with defiance.

"Your mother, Wiolina, is one of the best students at the Wizard academy and is by far a respected sorceress known to purposely few people." Ignoring my rudeness, he interlaced his hands on the table. What does he mean by purposely a few people?

"I know her through your father and the rogues. I am part of a secret order who, for decades, seek peace among the elves at the eastern country. Your father is one of them.

"Your mother was our mage during the early battles when the Cold War began. She not only fought with us for peace, she fought with us for the freedom of everyone living there at the east.

"We lost battles and with it so many lives. To this day the eastern elves conquer territory with the surviving lords and will kill any trespasser that sets a foot there. Our mages and troops at the Neverglades dread the time when these black-hearted lords start a war again for land expansion. I believe you heard that we lost Swordhaven and Yokai all ready. The next land at stake is the Frozen Northlands; luckily King Cole III is currently aware and prepared for any assault. Rumour has it one of the eastern lords has fallen to illness recently, which explains their recent inactiveness. The eastern warriors are strong and I am afraid your father remains lost with them."

"My father is...one of...them? What do you -?"

"Many years ago he gave your mother a sword that was made especially for you. Wiolina is still working on the spell that will activate its true potential, that is why you two have been travelling everywhere for potions. You are going to -"

"How is he one of them?" I interrupt with a superior tone, sitting up straight.

"I-" he fumbles.

"I - what?"

Long pause.

Choosing his words, he says, "I am not the right person to inform you of this particular in-"

"Fine. Don't tell me." I get up. "I don't want to help you guys." And I can't believe mother would send someone to tell me these things, instead of telling me herself. Coward. I could not bear to continue.

I stride out of the table careful not to trip over green ghoul feet. My mother stands up to seize me but I ignore her sudden attention.

As I go upstairs, Greg catches my arm. I turn to see a sad face, lined with worry and regret. His brows crease with a look that wants me to get back to the table and calm down. But my stare loosened his grip and I make a dash for my room.

All this time, throughout my years growing up with the Cold War, my real father is with the enemy at the east. I'm the blood of a traitor. An enemy.

The door slams shut and I hope it was loud enough for everyone downstairs to hear. I drop on my bed soaking the pillow with tears.