Chapter 10: So-called a Half-blood

A kalestri connection is also known as a telepathic communication, explained my mother earlier while she was curing me. She told me that Bog did not time travelled, he simply gave me a memory that he recorded. He also projected the beginning encounter through my sleeping mind, just so he could reach me.

The sunrise is awakening to watch. I sit perched by the window sill, dressed in my trainer's suit to prepare for any early practice. My eyes are half-closed willing my body to fall asleep, but I resist. I do not want another unexpected kalestri connection.

This morning, mother insisted that I should take a nap before the meeting today but I refused. I even refused to learn how to conceal the symbol engraved on my cheek. She handed me a scroll of concealment and reluctantly left the room after our argument. Mother is currently outside talking to Greg of what happened.

I sit waiting for my step father to come through the door and then I stuff the scroll into my pants pocket. I do not feel ashamed of being a half-blood. In fact, I'm proud of it. Maybe my mother is still trying to protect me from the public eye like she used to.

I hear footsteps above me as the ship's crew grow active on board, preparing to anchor above Cornelius Ruins. I hear the sneevils give orders, the dwarf grumbling in response and I could barely hear Croup. He must be pondering around. I can barely hear mother's conversation with Greg, seems like they're whispering.

The bones in my body pop while I stretch. Bog's telepathic communication truly affected my entire system. I keep wondering about the three drows, Lord Kurreon, werewolf and the woman that I last saw. Roan's dagger sits before me, taunting me to toss it or throw it at the wall.

It belongs to the drow and here I am keeping it for myself. Deep inside, I feel the need to return it to its owner. I wonder if they got away from the dreadful lady last night. I shake away dreadful thoughts.

Now I understand how this weapon got to me. The woman has teleported it to the person that was in Roan's recent memory. I am the person that he met prior to the event that unfolded, besides the drows.

I let out a weary sigh. Almost everything I thought about drows in my mind is jumbled up after Bog showed me what they're like. Some are just like us, rogues set forth on a mission. While others, like the lord and the woman, corrupt their reputation to hold power over the rest.

Greg bursts through the doorway, starling me. "Are you well? I can cancel our session today."

I give him a warm embrace. "I'm all right. Please don't cancel sword training," I say despairingly.

He rests a hand on my right cheek feeling the tattoo with his thumb. I have to tell him of my dreams. I did not tell my mother details because I am more comfortable with Greg. Surely, he'll tell me more about the eastern drow lords.

He looks me over and notices the healing bruise on my forehead. "You look normal," he smiles. "Okay. Pack your favourite weapons and prepare for any rogue exercise. Meet us down below first."

"Down below?"

"Yes. Down at the Ruins; the meeting with Lord Pierce," he answers. "You're sister will be waiting."

He sees my face light up at the mention of Latoya Sabor. She is Greg's other daughter and my half-sister. Latoya and her twin brother Jude have the same dark hair and grey eyes as Greg. Last time I saw them was on Greg's wedding day with my mother and that was seven years ago. During the years Greg remained with them while my mother and I travelled. When he decided to stay with my mother he started training me. Now it has been months after he last visited his twins.

"Your mother and I are heading down to Cornelius Ruins through sphere, which…" he sees me groan, "I know you're not fond of. I need you to eat and wash up. You've got friends to meet and important people to see."

"Wait, Greg!" I have to tell you something, I say in my mind.

"What is it, Arakelle?" His expression hides a panic.

I ask, softly. "What did my mother tell you?"

Greg settles on the lounge chair. "Tess's dog telepathically communicated with you last night. Your mother told me that you weren't yourself while you slept. And…she noticed your eyes glowing when you were peeling off candle wax from your neck. Apparently, someone had pulled a candlewick spell on you to protect your location and to ideally hide you from any suspicious eastern lords. But the candle wax is fading…and so is your safety." He wrinkles his brows. The information burdens him.

"I did not tell her of what happened in my dream while I was in Bog," I say.

"Which is bothering her," continues the man. He sees the unusual dagger I hold out to him.

"Bog showed me the events that occurred during our time at the ship. During the wind elemental's attack a dagger came out of thin air and almost hit me."

"A Drakeaius Dagger," he exhales, beguiled by the weapon. "You've seen drows didn't you?"

I nod, dropping my gaze to the floor. Absently, I tie the hilt of the dagger to my belt.

"Arakelle, listen to me," Greg whispers, "did you see any drow lords in your kalestri connection last night?"

"One called Lord Kurreon and a woman that looked powerful but her name wasn't mentioned. They only called her, my lady. But I think she has a more sinister title." I tell him. I refrain to tell Greg and formerly my mother about my previous, uncontrollable state before I encountered Bog. That piece of the puzzle will upset them even more because it must have something to do with the menacing woman that the drows encountered. My step father's face froze like a rock has hit his head. "Greg…what's wrong?"

Greg clears the room rapidly. He throws me a few words over his shoulder. "I'm going to talk to Lord Pierce." The door shuts behind him and I sit there paralyzed. Knowing Greg, he will only leave a conversation when there is something utterly terrible in the topic.

I head out to the corridor, feeling unsteady after talking to my step father. The smell of bread toast and chocolate flow through my nose, taking my mind off of my dream, I stop at the doorway of the dining room. Someone is inside, talking with an unfamiliar person. I keep quiet to eavesdrop.

"When I get to Skygaurd, do remind me to wring your neck," says the voice of the captain.

A sinister reply follows. "Continue to disregard my rank Captain Crowe. It is convenient we establish a meeting with the girl. I believe everyone in Greengaurd is up to date with your guest."

"I would like her consent you little brat," mutters Elias.

"Why yes," replies the ominous voice, "her consent is crucial. Retrieve her for me."

"Is that a demand I hear? You're not bossing me around, little primate." Elias is slouching on a classy chair behind a small round glass table where a small vase of daisies decorate the middle. An elegant teacup and a plate of toast are set in front of him and he's enjoying his impolite behaviour towards the person projected on the window sill. Surprisingly, his words are coated with an offensive tone. "Oh dear, I'm getting static on the monitors." Elias makes a buzzing noise and reaches for what looks like a viewing remote. "Sorry, but I'll just call you later."

I open the door wider to take a peek at his receiver, expecting someone so vile. But to my surprise, the screen displays a ten-year-old-boy with sleek blonde hair, flawless smooth baby face and large blue eyes. Why is Elias bullying this kid?

"Little devil," grumbles Elias. I am impressed at how discourteous he is towards such a bewildered boy, but his behaviour raises questions.

"I shall inform mother of your unprofessional behaviour towards me. And I detect no interfering frequencies in my computer. There is no static. So remain silent as I speak, Captain," orders the boy, grimacing.

"Go on, please hurry up." Elias sets his teacup down, he shrugs with impatience. "There you go, I said please."

The boy's eyes flutter to the doorway. "Someone's at the door."

Elias does not turn to look instead he smiles, stirring his cup of tea. "Come in," he says emotionless.

I hesitate. Chef Paris, sitting next to the kitchen doorway claps his hands and the robotic waiter appears and places another chair beside Elias. I reluctantly take a seat. The robot appears again serving a glass of juice and a plate of toast with a friend egg in the middle. Beside me Elias sips his tea.

"Glad of you to join us, unexpectedly," mumbles the young captain, looking at his teacup as if a fly landed on it.

The boy tunes a knob, making his voice sound his age. "I am addressed as Prince Piotr Owen, Lady…?" greets the projected boy on the window, politely ending his sentence with a question for my name.

"Arakelle," I say. It is uncomfortable to eat with the big headed boy, watching you through a window. Technically projected on the window, I correct myself.

"The lovely Lady Arakelle dur Gahl," gasps the boy, "a pleasure to finally acquaint you. I look forward to meet you in person once you visit my humble abode. You are looking beautiful this wonderful morning. And what a beautiful mark!" he quickly adds, spotting the image on my cheek. Flattered, I assure myself that there is nothing to hide about my mark, but I should consider hiding my blush. "Sorry for my squinting. Crowe has not properly adjusted the lighting in the room has he?"

I start eating my toast, stuffing my mouth with bread to not say a word.

"Now to business," snaps the child, brushing a hand through his hair. "Did you know that I supervised the construction for this ship? I even hold a few finances and insurances to fund it for Crowe. Wonderful vessel and I hope you enjoying your stay. I will see to it that your voyage to Greengaurd is safe and secure."

The monologue seems to annoy Elias.

Prince Owen continues, sweeping a gaze at the captain. "I contacted Elias Crowe, for any status on the ships condition. I even talked to him if his passengers are flying well. After the momentary attack of a wind elemental, I see you've managed. However, I shall inspect this ship once it arrives here. A thorough cleanup should do…" The prince fixes his collar. "Sorry, if you're holding out on applause on my extended vocabulary - I am, indeed, highly recognized and top listed in my class - a prince like me is highly educated, you know - I'm not sure of Mr. Crowe's standards." He flicks imaginary dust from his shoulder. "Oh see this seal?" He shows off a purple emblem on his suit. "It is my own logo, which I proposed to distribute throughout the Secret Order, since I am one of the administrators of the guild. Once my proposal is permitted then…"

The boy is more conceited than Elias. I want to say something witty, but I hold my tongue. This so-called Prince is starting to revamp my hostile nerves. The captain massages his temples; he is certainly trying hard to tolerate this child.

The Prince's voice trails off and I lose my attention. He's beginning to criticize furniture and high-class education, boring me with his opinions. I drink the juice slowly, keeping my mouth to the glass.

As the Prince is consumed by his talk about mansions and inventions Elias whispers, "let me introduce you to my half-brother." I almost choke on my drink. The young captain's half brother is a prince?

Hiding my anger from the child on the screen, I scowl at Elias, "You did not mention him or your family relation to royalty. Like your mother."

"You didn't ask. Besides, I don't like talking about my mother and this particular brat."

I glare at him. "So you're a half-prince?"

"It looks like we have something in common, Little Miss Half-blood." His icy blue eyes narrow and a conniving smile slowly appear across his face.

I lower my voice, "you two clearly have a family resemblance."

Elias leans closer, "and what is that?"

"Pride." Looking away from his cold stare, I finish a buttered toast.

Prince Owen clears his throat for wanted attention. "So, tell me something about yourself, Arakelle." The way he says my name sends a shiver down my spine.

I ignore the royal child and get up carrying my empty plate and glass. Minding my manners, I cast a blank look at the child on the screen and curtsy. I hear Elias's laughter as I walk up to Chef Paris who sat by his kitchen entrance in a jolly state.

The cook taps the door behind me as I stand before him. "A problem with breakfast?"

"No," I say to him, earnestly. "I just what to thank you for it." I hold out my empty plate and glass. The robot wheels out of the kitchen but before it rolls away, I say, "Thank you for the breakfast, Noggins." I glance at the beaming chef and nod. He looks like he's about to cry again. I turn and leave the room without glancing at Elias or his royal brother.

The deck is mopped as usual. Obviously by a ghoul's doing, I say in my mind as I almost slip across the floorboard. Croup is in a deep version with Sneezes at the rudder control. The ship hovers above a fog with the morning dew frosting the rails. At a distance, the pointed top of the stone ruins peek over the white cloud of mist.

"Shocky says to jus' step on it, Miss," instructs Shocky, tying a knot of ropes along a pulley. The sneevil steps aside and presses a botton on the edge of the teleportation plate. "This button Shocky's pressin' will activate the portal, Miss."

I leave my bag of weapons nearby. It packs an extra sheath of arrows, broad sword, whip and the two knives I used with the camels the other day. Greg told me to prepare for an exercise this morning but not for the meeting. I sling a quiver of arrows around me and just in case I stumble upon unwanted creatures. Something swings loosely along my belt - it's Roan's dagger - I quickly tie another strap to hold it steady.

Bow in hand, I step on the blue portal plate waiting for it to launch. I barely make it to the center of the plate when the air around me changes to fog. I cough out a sudden intake of mist and take a step off the platform to look around.

Sagra Leon sits aloft, casting a grey shadow across the foggy field of green. I blink at the teleporter to see if anyone else is joining me. Croup appears tripping off the portal platform. I help him up.

"Thank you," says the ghoul, "honestly, sneevils must be introduced to roller bags, you know the ones with the little wheels?"

"Sneevils thrive with boxes," I say.

"I was packing up boxes," smiles Croup, "filled with frog cookies and chocolate. We'll be making more s'mores!"

"Seriously?"

"For a bonfire later this evening," he adds, "I left them all back at the ship with Sneezes." Croup brushes off grass from his pants. "I'm rather excited. Oh look!" Looking up, he points to a direction in the fog, showing a figure running towards us.

I barely have my bow ready when the figure squeals, "They're here, Latoya!"

Another voice sounds from a distance."Well, what are you waiting for Kendra get her over hear before the stupid gate closes!" A boom echoes through the mist. "Never mind…"

The approaching girl bounds forward. She reaches us and I almost jump back at the hand holding out to me. "Name's Kendra Lance," she grins, "A rogue and friend to Latoya Sabor, I know you know her. Hee!" She giggles, taking my hand and shaking it vigorously.

"I'm…uh." I start, impressed by the strength of her fingers and the fast-talking speech, "pleased to meet you." She lets go.

"You must be the Arakelle dur Gahl. Pretty tattoo! Oh hello, Croup. We were introduced this morning, while you were up top. And oh my goodness, we're almost wearing the same clothes! Mine is embellished with pink laces. Did it myself to pimp this rogue leather. What is it with rogue leather? I think it's rather trendy. Gorgeous stripes, why stripes? I wonder what you look like with normal red hair. We'll talk about that later - come on!" She tugs me forward, I watch my footing, Croup follows and we head into the thick fog.

We reach the thinning edge of the fog. A stone block wall stops us. Croup bumps into a tall isolated boulder which seems to be waiting for an attendee. I wonder whoever guards the Ruins stand by this boulder to attend to visitors. A shaky thought comes to mind, is the guard still alive?

The grass surrounding us is uncut, growing like spears. I can tell we are at the gates of the Cornelius Ruins, our boots stand on the muddy path before it. Kendra taps the moss-covered wall three times. It shakes the ground beneath us and a large block of the wall starts to bury.

"This thing takes a while to open," says a voice from behind me. I turn to see another girl, tapping a foot impatiently. Her hair is as dark as Greg's and her sulking look reminds me of Greg's expression when he finds something unsatisfying. She holds a sword over her shoulder and wears intricately styled rogue leather with a sash that pockets two guns.

I gape. "Latoya?"

"I thought you wouldn't recognize me anymore!" She stabs her sword to the ground and we run to each other for a hug. "It's been a while!"

"No kidding?" I laugh, remembering the time at my mother's wedding with Latoya and Jude chattering on and on about the subject of boredom. "Where's Jude?"

"Jude?" She picks up her sword and we head to the open gates. "Busy, wrestling my mum. I mean, when dad left to train you it sort of made Jude jealous. So he left to go visit mum for a while and he's been there ever since. He sends us letters from time to time."

"He hates me for Greg's absence?"

"No, just scared of me."

"Scared of you?" I gasp, "What did you do this time?"

For as long as I can remember, Latoya is recognized for her marksmanship with guns, like Greg. But she is also known for under-age crime and thieving, almost like Greg. In the past years, Greg sent telegrams, permissions, money, licences and agreements to the authorities to prevent Latoya from getting a criminal record. He openly told me about all about her attempted robberies and successful pickpockets without the assistance of Jude, who guarded Coleen, his ex-wife.

"What do you think I did?" She deviously smiles. Greg must be proud of her dramatic crime sprees, any rogue father would.

As we pass the stone gate the fog hangs dead behind us as if it is under a spell to never pass the gates of the castle. We enter the front yard of the Cornelius Ruins, the broken building looks worse than previous decades. Vines infested the walls, weeds grew tall on the garden bed, thorny shrubs and leafless trees scatter throughout the front yard. The atmosphere looks almost like a graveyard. I guess it just needs a few gravestones.

Kendra takes Croup's arm and ambles up to the front stony stair. "Quickly up the steps, Croupy," says Kendra. "We'll find our professors in no time!" It seems like every sentence ends with an exclamation mark for the happy-go-lucky female.

"She means well," Latoya says to me. "She loves pink and she's amazing at axes, spears, polearms and cherry bombs."

"That explains her hyper behaviour?"

"That must have been the moglin smores last night. Don't know if there's a cure."

"Huh," I look to Kendra and Croup at the top of the steps. Kendra is carrying a double bladed axe behind her, sheathed with red leather and glimmering with gold and dull pink. "Wait, what do you mean moglin smores last night? You guys camped out here waiting for us?"

"Yeah," Latoya replies. "Greg sent a message to Mobius, where we were staying. We were driven here by an escort yesterday and we camped in this ruined castle overnight. Imagine the experience."

I disguise my perplexed face. "So, you got attacked by gargoyles?"

"Nope," says the rogue, her face lighting up. "Simply emit a spell to throw them off and keep watch while you sleep. Easy sleep for me since Kendra was fed with loads amount of sugar."

There is an old tale about gargoyles roaming the Cornelius Ruins. They are the creatures of the night that does not feed on humans. They only attack trespassers to the death and once the gargoyle kills someone –or something not to its liking - the body is left to rot. Gargoyles are hard to kill and I have not encountered any before. From what I hear, their armour is considerably made of stone. There has not been a reported gargoyle attack in the past three years.

We reach the large wooden double door and it quaintly swings, slowly revealing my mother standing on a patterned carpet. The interior of the ruined castle looks well maintained, with polish marble floors and flags decorated along the high ceiling. Two floors of marble staircases freely hold fenceless decks where a person could fall off if not warned by standing vases of fresh roses. The place looks like a beautiful lobby of bright silver and white colours with green accents from the indoor plants. A large portrait of a group of colourful moglin creatures hang on the left wall. I notice sunlight streaming through the tall windows, nearly making a spotlight on the people at the center.

Mother walks us to Greg and a familiar elf standing at the center. "You met Lord Pierce the other night, Arakelle," she mutters to my ear as we approach the men, "please behave."

I nod to her. "I will." I'm finally getting answers and I will listen attentively, I add in my mind.

The mage casts me a measured look, her saint-like appearance covering a feeling that I cannot interpret.