Chapter IV
The Seeker's Guild
Bloodied fingers scrabbled at the study wall furiously, scraped raw trying to find the hidden switch to open the passageway hidden behind the palace masonry. The palace shook, the sound of thunder roaring outside in the inner courtyard, mere moments from finding Jack. Howling outside the walls told Jack they were getting closer, and biting his lip, he pushed harder at on particularly stubborn stone that had wedged itself into the passage switch.
With a furious kick, Jack finally forced the stone free, the switch sliding back and the stony wall before him sinking into the floor, revealing and arched doorway and a steep stairwell that only seemed to lead to darkness.
Jack eyed the study door, which seemed to shake in its frame as the oncoming enemy drew nearer. Jack glanced around the room frantically, before spotting a small oil lantern perched on his father's desk. He didn't have time to check how much oil was left in the lantern – it was all he could do to snatch up a box of tinder-lights and strike the lantern to life.
Grasping the lantern's handle, Jack hurried to the passageway, and started to carefully make his way down the steep steps. He must have stepped on a pressure point somewhere, because having just stepped onto the fifth stair, the stone wall slid back into place; closing the passage off to his pursuers, but also trapping Jack completely in the dark.
The only way left now was forward.
Jack took a long, deep breaths, before continuing down the steps. Compared to the destruction above, it was eerily silent in the cavernous passage. Jack's eyebrows furrowed as he peered into the darkness, concentrating on his footing and not tripping and falling to his untimely death. After all, Aster had just… he'd just… Jack shook his head furiously. He'd made sure Jack could escape the siege alive. It would just be inconsiderate to die of clumsiness now.
Don't think. Don't think. Concentrate on the task at hand. Don't. Think.
One foot in front of the other, Jack pointedly didn't think about what had just happened. He didn't think about the horror he'd witnessed in his people's eyes as he and Aster fled the streets of Caruselle. He didn't think of his parents, still trapped in their burning kingdom, still fighting… or worse…
He didn't think of the children, scared and screaming out in terror. He didn't think of the patchwork bear lying abandoned in the road. He didn't think of Ast- Of his best frie- Of the Captain of the Guard, lying abandoned in the road…
As he walked, lantern raised high above his head, he clutched at the satchel slung over his shoulder. The moments between leaving those creatures behind and getting to the escape tunnel seemed like a blur. All he'd known was instinct, and his instincts were pulling him northward. Maybe the moon-dragon was still affecting him. That would explain why, in those fleeting moments, he'd ran to his chambers, throwing the spyglass, a map of the North and the Sorcerer's dust into a satchel, grabbing the abandoned scraps of silk he'd unwoven from his hands earlier as an afterthought. No doubt he'd need bandages later.
As he made his way through the passage, the ceiling gradually got lower, until Jack was nearly bent double as he trudged onward. On the stone walls, pictures started to appear – coarse, messy, almost juvenile pictures of creatures Jack had never laid eyes on before. They'd been depicted in stark black and white – chalk and charcoal, most likely – and as he moved along the wall, a story unfolded in front of his eyes.
Black stick figures with white eyes seemed to flee from an oncoming threat, arms outstretched back toward the palace. Some figures were even shown being trampled, attempting to drag themselves to their feet to join the mad rush again. Jack gulped as he raised the lantern, and gasped as a new colour came to play.
Further ahead was an explosion of red, the colour blaring out in a silent warning. Jack approached slowly, the lantern quaking in his left hand as he traced the stick-figures' horrified faces with his right. The red splotch on the wall – Jack decided – was representing some great fire. The people were running from the fire? That isn't something to worry about now, was it? Jack felt a glimmer of relief start in his chest, only to be squashed as he rounded the corner. Stick figures were shown starting the fire, in a bid to distance themselves from a great horde of creatures. These creatures were squat, pot-bellied and shown with stark white, squashed faces and black, soulless eyes. They ran after the human figures with jagged spears, their black, python-like tongues flicking from gaping mouths wildly.
Jack stared at the image, his hands flinching away from the walls when they came in contact with something wet. Drawing his fingers toward him, Jack lowered the lantern and peered at his fingertips. They were streaked with red.
Don't jump to conclusions. It's probably just clay dust and condensation. That's it, just reddish, muddy water…
Who was he kidding?
Jack pressed onward, refusing to look at the murals on the walls now – but from the corner of his eyes he could see the images getting more and more macabre. The whole process was unnerving, the black eyes staring out whilst wild white eyes screamed imploringly for Jack to run the other way. But he couldn't. He couldn't.
Especially when the sound of a great crash, followed by the screaming wails of those creatures, echoed down the passage corridor. Jack's mouth leapt to his throat, and he started straining forward all the more vigorously.
But it was hard – gone were the stony steps and paved walkways, they were now replaced by earthy paths, that seemed to slip and slope deeper and deeper into the earth. What's worse, the earth was not unaffected by whatever is was that dripped from the walls, and Jack himself struggled to stay upright as the sticky earth sucked at his boots, and sent him skidding through the passage in his haste.
He cursed as his foot caught on the mud, sending him splayed face down. He spat away the mud on his face and dragged himself to his feet… only to blink owlishly in the darkness.
Swearing, Jack fell to his knees and scrabbled in the dirt, searching furiously for his lost lamp. Not that there was any point – with no flint or tinder, he couldn't relight it. That, and the oil had probably spilled anyway. Slowly, Jack stilled his hands, and everything started to crash around him; he was alone, in this dark, dirty tunnel with no end. His kingdom was in ruins, his best friend was dead, and he was alone alone alone.
In the distance, Jack could hear those monsters gaining. He could already imagine them – their hellish eyes boring into his, red as burning blood. Would it hurt to die? Maybe at first. He couldn't even fight them, unarmed as he was.
Jack curled in upon himself, a shuddering sob wracking him. He was going to die.
As soon as the thought had entered his mind, Jack felt something grab at his shoulders. Jack yelled in fear as he was yanked to his feet, struggling furiously, regardless of his feet slipping in the mud.
"Hashak[1]!" came a furious whisper, and Jack stilled, his heart beating like hummingbird wings in his chest. Was that Munthân?
"Shamar 'a'Shen? Sham'la?!"[2]the voice hissed, shaking Jack's shoulders. Jack grabbed the other's arms to steady himself, trembling as he yelled "I don't know what you're saying!"
There was a pregnant pause, before the man in the dark released his shoulders. "Huh." Grumbled a gruff voice. "Common. You're from Caruselle then?"
Jack blinked, disorientated by the man's voice somewhere in the pitch darkness. "I…yes?"
The man snorted, then grabbed Jack's wrist like a vice. Jack yelped as he was bodily dragged onward again. "You are lucky. We heard strange noises from West tunnel and came to investigate. Good thing trogs did not find you first."
"Trogs?" Jack repeated, confused.
"Yes, the Trogs." The voice replied, exasperated. They made a sharp turn, and Jack stumbled over his sodden cloak, panting as he tried to keep pace with his new…friend? Guide? Jack wasn't sure he could trust the man in the dark – heck, he couldn't even see him! – but right now, given the choice of staying lost in the dark and dirt or following wherever he was dragged, Jack was going to go with the latter.
"How can you see where we're going?!" Jack gasped. He could practically hear the amusement in the man's voice as he replied "I have pretty good eyesight."
They kept going, leaving the sound of approaching monsters behind them. The whole time on his own, Jack had only ever been moving forward, but now with the stranger, the turns and twists in their path seemed to come out of nowhere. It was then Jack realised this wasn't just an escape tunnel – it was an entire maze. A whole network of interlinking tunnels – some so low the prince was practically crawling, and others so narrow Jack had to hold his breath to squeeze through.
Finally, Jack could see light ahead, and sagged with relief when a lone torch appeared before them, ensconced in the wall. The walls around them, Jack could see now, were no longer stone, nor covered in gory murals. He brushed his fingers against the earthy walls, and balked when they seemed to crumble under his fingers.
"Ha! Don't worry – it's dry season. Walls will do that when there's no rain."
Jack's head snapped around, finally seeing his saviour. The man was huge, taller than Jack, which made him question how the guy had got through some of those tighter tunnels so easily. His bare arms that were the size of tree-trunks, circled at the biceps with bands of tattoos. His hands were huge and worn like dragon hide. He didn't seem to have any weapons on him, but from the look of the guy, he could probably bash a boulder clean in two, never mind someone's head. The man smirked down at Jack, his dark brown eyes reflecting the flickering torchlight. "You act like you've never seen a BenHuln miner before."
Jack gulped. "I haven't." But he'd heard of them.
The BenHul forest was more or less a giant band, stretching from one side of the Greater Isles to the other, cutting the southerners off from the North altogether – as if the natural wall of the Archipelago Mountains didn't do that already. The forest wasn't much of a wonder though, except that it was home to some of the nastier creatures in existence. Which is why usually, the only humans in BenHul forest were the ones that had been forced there.
The man snorted at the wide-eyed look the prince gave him, rolling his eyes. "Do you really believe all that talk about miners only being convicts?"
Jack shrugged. "I don't know why you'd want to stay here otherwise." He gestured down the corridor they'd come from, where strange, disturbing noises were still echoing. The man rolled his shoulders forward and folded his arms. "Occupational hazard." He replied flippantly. "Sometimes finding precious things means facing a lot of bad stuff, right?"
Jack paused, his fingers settling on the satchel at his side absent-mindedly. "I suppose." Jack replied. He furrowed his brows. "What exactly is it you are looking for?"
The man looked Jack up and down, before frowning himself. "We can talk later. You don't look so good."
Jack had to bite back a harsh laugh at that, partially because he wasn't sure whether it would come out as a sob. "I just watched my kingdom be torn apart and turned to rubble, killing the people I care about. I don't feel very good, either."
The giant of a man stared at Jack, before whistling lowly. "Caruselle has fallen too, huh? It'll be us next then."
That got Jack's attention.
"What?" Jack snapped, staring the man down, despite being at least three heads shorter. The man shook his head.
"I'll explain when we're back at base. For now, keep up. I need to find my partner."
"Partner…?"
Before Jack could ask properly, the lug of a man was already grabbing the torch from its sconce, and thundering down the tunnel. Jack's stomach lurched as he tried to make his feet catch up, but the silt on the bottom of his boots was still sucking and pulling, and he didn't have the miner to steady him anymore.
When they finally made it back to 'base', Jack knew it. The entrance was fortified with great sand-sacks and iron bars, like a drawbridge gate. It was the brightest thing he'd seen for a while, as the place was surrounded by torches, burning a deep gold.
The entire thing was still underground, weirdly enough, but it still felt like Jack was walking into a pretty imposing fort.
As they got closer, a shout was raised from somewhere beyond the earthy fortress walls, and the gate began to rise. Jack wondered how they could have been seen coming at all – obviously they had some pretty ingenious operations down here. The miner didn't even wait for the gate to finish being raised, he just marched forward like a stubborn bull, not even blinking when he didn't quite stoop enough, and managed to scrape his back against the gate's piercing base.
Jack followed behind, glancing around as he entered what looked like the main plaza. Again, it was lit up entirely by torches, some hanging in lamps from the high, hollowed out ceiling. Tunnel entrances seem to wrap the entire room, leading off to Fares knew where. Jack watched as the miner trudged over to a tall man with a really reddish complexion – he guessed it was the miner's 'partner' – leaving Jack alone and looking lost in the middle of this strange place. He looked about, trying to find some clue as to what he was supposed to do now. Was he meant to just wait here?
He sighed, rubbing his shoulder anxiously, and hissing at the sudden pain in his hand. Oh yeah – he'd just escaped certain doom, and had the bloodied fingernails to prove it. He'd almost forgotten that. He wandered over to some steps that had been carved from the earth itself, plonking himself down and rooting around in his satchel for the wads of silk he'd grabbed earlier.
As he bandaged his hands - in that crude manner that only someone used to dressing his wounds for him could have – his eyes fell on something strange. Deposited in random piles all over the place were the strangest items Jack had ever laid eyes on. Each and every one was encrusted with a layer of dirt. Some were small and sleek, others large and chunky. Some were relatively intact, others were ripped open and strewn apart, held together by some strange string that either glinted like copper, or looked strangely waxy in the flickering lamplight.
"What are those?" Jack whispered to himself mostly.
"Relics of the old world." Piped a voice next to him.
Jack jumped about five foot in the air as he yelped, grabbing at his tunic as he did. Perched next to him was a tiny girl – she couldn't have been taller than 4ft 2 – with her arms wrapped around her legs, beaming at him. "Hello!"
Jack took a deep breath. "Hi." He replied wearily. The girl wasn't deterred by his lack of enthusiasm it seemed. She stuck her hand out to him, still grinning.
"I'm Vanela, best treasure hunter and cart driver in this joint. Who are you?"
Jack took her hand gingerly, partially due to his hands still hurting and itching like crazy, and partially due to being not a little perturbed by this overzealous girl. "Jack. Of Caruselle."
The girl blinked, before bursting into laughter. It wasn't unpleasant laughter, in fact it reminded Jack of the children of his kingdom, and it brought a smile to his face. Then reality… or rather, the memory of a forsaken teddy bear amongst the rubble of his home, came crashing back down on him. His smile faded a little.
The girl didn't seem to notice. "Jack? Of Caruselle? Ain't that confusing at all? I mean, that's the Prince's name, isn't it?"
Jack nodded distractedly. "If you can even call me a prince anymore. My kingdom's probably nothing but rubble by now…"
The girl fell silent. Jack turned to look at her, and nearly winced at how big her brown eyes had become. She bit her lip as she took the sight of Jack in, bedraggled and muddied, his lavish blue cloak torn in places, swaths of silk wrapped around his hands. His eyes were dull brown, like ditch water, and his hair was covered in mud and dust. There were even streaks of mud down his face. And Gods on high, he looked so tired.
"You really are the prince?" she asked softly, fiddling with her neckerchief. Jack nodded solemnly. He felt like there were heavy weights on his shoulders that had never been there before. Gone were the fun-times, the carefree home he grew up in. Now, Jack was no longer sure what his purpose was, or where he was even meant to fit in.
The girl – Vanela – looked him up and down, before letting a scowl settle on her face. With conviction, she drew her fist back and slammed it right into Jack's shoulder.
"Yee-ahh! What was that for?!" Jack snapped as he was sent sprawling over the floor. Vanela folded her arms.
"You looked bummed out."
"And punching me is going to help?!"
She shook her head. "It's to wake you up, doofus. I do the same to Ralf whenever he gets mopey about Arendelle." She rolled her eyes. "Sometimes bad things happen. We can all feel bad about it, but sometimes overthinking the past just makes stuff even worse. There's nothing you can do about past stuff." She put her hands on her hips. "So stop worrying about that, and think about what you need to do next!"
Jack stared at her. "Next?"
"There's obviously a path you need to take. That's what's next."
Jack fumbled for a moment. "I needed to escape... Aster said I had to live… he said-" he blinked rapidly as Aster's words hit him like a mallet.
"It doesn't take a genius; Mûnthan? Mountain? For Fares' sake Jack, use some common sense!"
He froze, then suddenly made a mad scrabble for his satchel, yanking out both the spyglass and the pouch of sorcerer's dust and clutching them to his chest, gasping for air. The girl – Vanela – was right. Aster had told him his path. Now Jack just needed to follow it.
"Hey! Pipsqueak! Stop traumatising that kid any more than he already is!"
Jack looked up, and came face to face with the large boulder-like miner again. Snapping his head around, Jack nearly gaped as Vanela stood up and slapped the guy on his side, glaring.
"And where the hell have you been, boulder-brains? We're supposed to stick together during sweeps! Felyx and Calhan have been doing their nuts, they've been so worried!"
The boulder-man miner gave her an unimpressed look. "Felyx worries too much. And Calhan doesn't give a damn about anyone's safety other than Felyx's. She's just miffed that I had more chance of killing trogs than she did."
Vanela raised an eyebrow. "And did you?"
"What? I- No! I didn't kill any trogs! I was too busy saving this guy." He jerked a thumb at Jack. Jack rolled his eyes and got to his feet. He contemplated brushing the dust off his clothes, but after a closer inspection of his clothes, he decided it wasn't worth the effort.
Vanela snorted, shaking her head. "Do you even know who 'this guy' is?" The miner shrugged. The girl slapped her hand to her face. "Oi… He's the Prince of Caruselle, numbnuts! Sometimes I wonder if you really do have a brain up there."
The miner looked from Vanela to Jack, taking in his torn up clothes and muddied skin. "Don't look like much of a prince to me. He looks more like one of the kids on demolition. Trust me, I would know."
"I feel like one too." Jack replied drily.
Vanela delivered another swift punch to the miner's stomach, though it didn't seem to have much effect. "Rude much, Ralf?"
The miner – Ralf – shrugged again. "What? He does!"
Jack opened his mouth to retort back – probably something about how maybe his appearance had something to do with Ralf finding him face-first in the mud – but he was cut off by a loud, incredibly unmanly shriek of "RAAALF!"
Jack stumbled as a blur rushed past him, and Ralf yelped as his face was grabbed and yanked downward to be inspected by – what Jack could now see to be – a stocky young man with an extensive tool-belt slung at his hip.
"Where in the name of trogmoles have you been? We've been worried sick!" the man released Ralf's face, his hands on his hips as he glowered at the taller miner. "You know what? No. Don't tell me. If you start telling me where you disappear off to on sweeps, I'll probably have a betsy. Just – don't go running off again! Do you have any idea what went through my head when Vanela here turned up without you? I nearly had a heart attack!"
"Whoa!" Ralf waved his large hands in front of the little guy's face. "Time out, Felyx. Jeez!"
"You shouldn't worry so much for a little guy." Vanela piped up. Jack gave her a wry look.
"Like you can talk."
Vanela stuck her tongue out in reply. But Jack was right – Vanela was still at least a head shorter than Felyx.
At that, Felyx suddenly stopped and noticed Jack. He stood stock still for a couple of seconds for turning to Ralf with a new kind of thunder in his expression.
"What did you do this time?"
Ralf raised his arms and waved them above his head dramatically. "I didn't do nothing!"
"I noticed!" Felyx replied gesturing at Jack emphatically. When Ralf just looked confused, Felyx sighed and turned to Jack.
"You, my friend, look exhausted. I'll go talk to my fiancé about finding you somewhere to sleep. I'm Felyx Filiby, head of reconstruction – the mountain with no manners over there is my brother, Ralf. He's head of demolition. Who might you be?"
The short man – Felyx – held his hand out to Jack, his bright blue eyes full of polite concern. Jack swallowed a lump in his throat, and slowly released his right hand from its death grip on the spyglass to shake the offered hand. "Jack of Caruselle." He replied quietly.
It didn't matter how quite Jack spoke, the man's eyes still bugged out. "Jeepers! You really must've been in the wars! Did you come from the escape tunnels?"
Jack nodded.
"Whoa, whoa, what escape tunnels?" Ralf asked, brows furrowed.
Jack blinked. "The old escape route from Caruselle Palace is the Western tunnel. It's supposed to lead out to the Mirror Lake…" He petered off as Ralph's frown got more and more intense.
"You are way off course." Ralf growled. "Damn trogs – they've hijacked your tunnel and made a new route with it. No wonder you were lost."
Felyx gasped. "You were in trog territory?"
Jack nodded slowly. "I…didn't see anything though."
Vanela snorted, rolling her eyes. "You wouldn't have. They hate light – any light. They tend to hunt in the dark."
A cold sense of unease seeped through Jack and settled like a stone in his stomach. "Thank Fares you found me then." He murmured, glancing at Ralf from the corner of his eye.
Ralf shrugged. "You're welcome."
-:-
In some ways, Jack had to count himself lucky. He'd survived the siege on Caruselle, had escaped trog infested tunnels without incident, and then found himself in an underground fortress full of surprisingly hospitable people. He should be grateful for all his fortunes.
It didn't stop his dinner – a modest stew – doing down in lumps as his thoughts lingered on his home. Where were his parents now? Were they still alive? Did Aster get the warrior's funeral he deserved? He stirred his stew distractedly, not even noticing when Vanela plonked herself down next to him.
"Hey. Your Royal highness. …Hey. Don't make me punch you again!"
Jack started as a hand cuffed him up the side of the head. "Ow! Great Fares, you're violent!"
Vanela folded here arms, her eyes narrow slits. "You were doing it again." When Jack merely looked puzzled, she rolled her hands. "You were over thinking stuff, doi. Stop looking back and start moving forward, remember?"
Jack nodded absently as he rubbed the back of his head. "Yeah, I remember."
"Good. I don't need another big dummy to babysit." She replied, crossing her legs primly.
Jack smiled to himself. Vanela was a very different creature to any girl Jack had met before – for one thing, she was wearing breeches and a tunic, with a scruffy doublet and tarnished, muddy boots. No girl Jack had met would have gone near those boots with a five foot lance. He cleared his throat. "So… who are you guys really, if you aren't the exiled convicts I've heard about? Where did you come from?"
Vanela bristled slightly, then sighed as her shoulders slumped. "I guess you were gonna ask that at some point. Fine." She swivelled where she sat, crossing her legs on the bench they sat on and facing Jack head on. "We're what's left of the Seeker's Guild. When our entire city was burnt down, we went underground. Literally." She gestured at the walls and carved ceilings around them.
Jack frowned. "Your city burned down? Wait… are you from Arendelle?" he gasped. When Vanela nodded, Jack gaped at her. "B-but that happened years ago. Before I was even born! How old are you?!"
"What kind of guy asks a lady that?!" Vanela snapped. But she stopped when she saw the earnest look in Jack's face. "Fine." She relented. "I'm twenty-two."
Jack gaped at her. "But you're tiny!"
"Yeah, and Ralf's huge. What's your point?"
Jack paused at that. "How old is Ralf then?"
Vanela shrugged. "Dunno, never asked. Younger than Felyx anyway."
At that, Jack's doe-eyes bugged out. "You're serious?"
Vanela snorted. "Yeah. It's a running joke. No matter how big he gets, Ralfy will always be Felyx's widdle brother."
"I heard that, Pipsqueak."
A meaty hand landed on Vanela's head and mussed her black hair, leaving what was an already messy ponytail as what could easily be mistaken as a crow's nest. Vanela bapped Ralf's hand away, glaring. Ralf just chuckled, setting himself down next to her. "Calhan has managed to find you a bed for the night, Your highness, so no more dirt baths for you today."
Jack gave him a weak smile. "Thanks. And just call me Jack."
Ralf nodded. "Fine, Jack it is. Do you want to head out to the barracks now, or…?"
"I wanted to know what you're all doing here, if I'm honest." Jack mumbled. Vanela and Ralf exchanged a look and shrugged.
"Well okay…" Ralf sighed, getting to his feet. "If you're sure you aren't too tired, we can give you the tour."
Jack nodded, pulling himself from the bench and abandoning all pretences of being interested in eating. "I'd like that."
In honest truth, there was a good reason Jack was avoiding sleep like a plague. He'd started the day as a colourful dream, and it had ended as a waking nightmare. Was it so bad that he didn't want to lie alone in the dark just yet?
With that thought, Jack followed Vanela and Ralf down the numerous tunnels and listened to their commentary – which usually ended up with them arguing over something. Most of the rooms were storage space or common rooms. The training room intrigued Jack a lot, especially when he got an eyeful of their sword rack. There was one lady in there – tall, amazon-like with blonde hair cut short like a man's – but one look at her, and Vanela just shook her head.
"I wouldn't go bothering her right now. You coming here has put her in a bad mood."
Jack raised an eyebrow at that. "Why would I put her in a bad mood?"
Vanela shuffled her feet. Ralf cleared his throat. "It's not you, exactly – more like whatever was following you might still, er, be following you…"
Jack stared at him for a moment. "Well, that's put my mind right at ease."
"Yours and ours both, kid." Ralf replied tiredly, leading them off to the next room.
This is where things got interesting.
The entire room was dimly lit with strange, coloured lights. They flickered sometimes, but not like torches. These lights were glass and bulbous. Jack couldn't take his eyes off them. Until he saw the rest of the room.
There were piles of strange objects, just like out in the plaza, only these looked like they had been cleaned up a little. Some were long and flat, other boxy and fat. Some could fit in the palm of your hand, whilst others needed two people to pick them up. Some had a lid you could flip open, and some had sleek glass panels that had been unfortunately shattered in time.
Most of these strange objects had someone working on them, twiddling with metal wires and strange green rectangles that were full of metallic veins. Jack almost jumped out of his skin when Vanela spoke, he'd been so absorbed.
"They're all relics from the old world. Back before the Five Phoenixes gave our world new life. We know from doing all our sweeps and digs that there was an advanced society that lived on this world before us, before the great floods killed them. The proof is in all this weird technology we keep finding." She gestured at the people and the small tools they were using to pry the various objects open.
Ralf nodded. "This is Felyx's team: Reconstruction. They're the think-tank, the dweebs that are stuck on trying to get this old junk to work again, and figure out what they do." He pointed at the lights that hung from wires all around the room. "They figured out that if you link those glass things to the big box that zaps you if you get too close, the glass orbs glow." He grinned. "Now Felyx just needs to figure out the hows and whys."
Jack's face scrunched up, confused. "You mean to say, it isn't magic?"
Vanela shook her head. "It's not the kind of magic we know. It's too precise for that. It doesn't feel like anything the phoenixes created… it's like, the people of the old world didn't have magic, so they made their own."
"No magic?" Jack whispered, both eyebrows getting lost somewhere above his hairline. "No blessings, or fae folk, or Phoenixes or Moon Dragon?"
Vanela nodded sadly. "Yeah. Sometimes I wonder how lonely it must've been, to not have the Moon Dragon to guide you to your one. But… the people of the south are the same, aren't they?" She gave him a pitying look.
At that, Jack shook his head. "Most of them are. My Dad is from Arendelle, so I'm a bit of a special case. Though sometimes I wish the Moon Dragon would leave off on the 'guiding' once in a while."
Vanela blinked. "Whoa. Wait. Back up. First; Your Dad's from Arendelle? What's his name? Second; You have a kindred? What's their name?! What're they like?! And why aren't they here with you? That's really bad you know. Like, I can hardly ever stand the big lug, but if I was separated from Ralf here for too long I'd probably go nuts, like-"
"Van. Let the guy talk." Ralf grinned at Jack apologetically.
Jack was stuck looking from Vanela to Ralf and back again. "Hold on. You two are together? But you guys are so different; I mean, you're HUGE and Vanela's tiny and-"
"I said I was twenty-two." Vanela snarked, crossing her arms. "And you should know, the Moon Dragon doesn't really care what our bodies look like. It's our souls that bind us together. That, and Ralf's only a few months older than me, believe it or not."
Jack nodded dumbly, focusing on not gaping at them. They were possibly the weirdest couple Jack had ever laid eyes on. Vanela smiled up at Ralf, before setting sights back on Jack. "Okay, Jacko. We've said our bit, now answer the question; Where's your kindred? We weren't lying when we said it's dangerous to be apart."
Jack shrugged, turning away and letting his eyes settle on one of the workers, who was struggling to yank off the lid on one of the sleeker boxes. "I don't know." He admitted quietly. "We met six years ago. He was part of this slaver's caravan, which my family and I managed to free him from. I only really spoke to him the following morning. Then he had to go back to the North. I never saw him again."
He waited for Vanela's and Ralf's response without turning around. And waited. Finally, when he peered over his shoulder, he could see the two of them gaping at him. "What?"
"Six years?" Vanela gasped. Jack shrugged and nodded again. "That's horrible. How did you – why didn't he – I mean-" She threw her hands up in frustration. "Tell me you have some way of finding him!"
At that, a small smile crept over Jack's lips. "Actually, I think I do."
-:-
They had led him back to a modest room, lit by a small lantern and a tiny brazier fire that had a chimney dug out to the surface. They'd settled on the tiny bed with a straw mattress, and Jack had explained the importance of his spyglass, and the sorcerer's dust in his satchel. They'd both beamed at him, and told him they would speak with him in the morning. Apparently, they had some planning to do.
Which left Jack alone in the tiny, underground bedroom, staring out into the darkness, just like he had feared.
Sighing, Jack pulled off the itchy tunic the Seeker's Guild had lent him – it felt like it was made from a potato sack, but since his silk one was being washed, it had done its job in a pinch – and pulled back the equally itchy blanket letting himself fall into bed.
At least he had a bed. When the turrets of his palace were crumbling before his eyes this morning, even that small comfort didn't look promising.
He didn't dare put the lantern out. Allowing the darkness to swallow him whole was not top of Jack's to do list right now. Instead, he lay his head down on the slightly damp pillow and watched the shadows flit across the wall as both lantern and fireplace flickered. It wasn't long before Jack was feeling drowsy, but something in heart was clenching. He was already pre-empting the night terrors waiting for him. There was a coldness wrapping around him, making him short of breath. He squeezed his eyes closed, waiting for the cold panic to stop. When he finally snapped his eyes open again, he nearly screamed. But his throat was so tight, he could barely make a sound. All he could do was look on in wide-eyed terror at the strange silhouette now on his bedroom wall. There was a sound of movement behind him, and Jack snapped around in bed to face the fireplace.
Every muscle in Jack's body tightened. But it wasn't in fear.
"You aren't really here, are you?"
[1] Ralf (In Nathern) : "Shut up!"
[2] Ralf (In Nathern): "Where have you come from? Who are you?!"