Chapter 40: The Glowerhaven Ball
The orange lights of the inn's oil lamps appeared from behind the trees as the Master rounded the bend in the road. The mud bore the footprints of travelers that passed by during the storm, the squelching soft earth sucking at their shoes or bare callused feet. Yet the Master passed over it without a sound. His dark robes repelled the filth and rain, beads of water running down him to join the runoff cutting ruts into the dirt. He made for a malevolent omen as he approached the inn, luminous blue eyes moving silently through the stormy night, his figure appearing in the bursts of lightning the clouds threw down before darkness embraced him again.
A fork of lightning illuminated the inn. It was a two-storied structure with the dark curved roof typical of eastern architecture. Paper paneled sliding doors took the place of windows–glass was far too fragile and expensive a commodity for these volatile lands. A plain wood railing ringed the upper veranda. The colors and grain of the wood did not match the rest of the building. No doubt it was put in place after the original was destroyed in some shootout or brawl, if the marks in the walls and pillars were any indication. Oil lanterns hung along the lower level, illuminating the stairs to the main door with a weak light. The oak forest closely abutted the inn, as though their branches sought the light inside in the absence of the sun.
The Master pulled his hood tighter as he lightly ascended the stairs, the normally creaking wood making no sound underfoot. He gave a passing glance to a wooden sign nailed to one of the posts, loudly proclaiming "NO HEATHENS!" in large black lettering. It was a clear warning aimed at people like the Master. Heathens was the contemptuous term for all possessing magic in these parts. The Master already had it hurled his way on several occasions during his time here. He responded by hurling his defamers into the dark void of the Otherworld.
The Master ran a finger over the sign. It immediately blackened and crumbled as what vitality remained in the wood was drained away. Within moments the sign was a pile of dust, years' worth of decay condensed into the span of seconds. The Master glanced at the paneled door and it slid aside, as though it feared the same fate as the sign.
The inside of the inn was like any other in the eastern kingdoms. The low-lying tables were weathered wood scarred by blades, fists, and other weapons. There were no chairs, either because guests sat on the cushions littering the floor or because they had all been broken over other people's heads. A long bar ran the length of the far wall. The uneven shelves behind it were sparse save several dusty bottles. No sane barman in the east kept his full wares in plain sight. The lanterns gave a greasy pale light, keeping the room in a perpetual sunset. The smell of earth, spilled drinks, and the unmistakable traces of old blood and gunpowder laced the air, also typical of eastern establishments. There was an ominous silence to the place, as though its guests and tenants had vanished the moment the door was opened.
The Master would have believed the inn empty were it not for the man that stood up behind the bar, flipping a rag over his shoulder. He was a large man with a broad back and shoulders like a bull. His hair was covered by a checkered blue and white bandana. The sleeves of his gray robes were tied up past his elbow by a cord that crossed over his back, keeping them from dipping into the water as he washed. His arms were thick and knotted, the dark skin marked by pale white scars.
"Gin, I presume?" said the Master.
The innkeeper gave the Master a glance over his shoulder. His jaw was square and pronounced underneath the close-trimmed salt and pepper beard that matched his bushy eyebrows. He looked his guest over with steely dark eyes, narrowing as they met the Master's blue ones.
"Get out" he growled, turning back to his work. "I don't serve your kind."
The Master felt a flickering temptation to snap the man's neck for his derisive tone. But he was not one to have his pride or temper riled so easily. Especially when there was a job to do.
"I've no need for your drinks or rooms," said the Master as he approached. "I am here for something else."
"If you're going to kill me then do it," said Gin without turning around. He showed not the slightest fear in his motions. "You want money then take it. I keep it all upstairs in a chest. Won't find much though. It's been slow this season. Then get your cursed hide out of here."
The Master chuckled. "Rash, straightforward, and with venom. Spoken like a man who thinks he has nothing left to lose but his life. You may have lost your sons, Gin, but I can take more from you than you realize."
Gin stopped his washing, his shoulders and spine tensing. "If you've got something to say, then quit your yammering and say it, heathen," he said, his tone as stiff as his clenched jaw. "What do you want?"
"Information," said the Master as he reached the bar. "I'm looking for someone."
Gin gave a derisive snort as he started scrubbing at a stubborn bit of food on a plate. "You and every other wretch this side of the Teeth. Not my problem."
"This one is," said the Master. "Rather, shewas. Now she's become my problem."
Gin stopped scrubbing. "She?"
"You know of whom I speak," said the Master. "A young woman with golden eyes, a scar over her right eye, and a magic sword."
The Master smirked as Gin flinched visibly. He had the man's full interest now. He would not be able to resist.
Gin turned to face the Master, drying off his hands as he approached. "Does this 'woman' also have freakish strength, fire magic, and tattoos on her arms?"
"What a small world we live in," said the Master. He leaned on the bar, hands folded to rest his chin on. He waved a finger and the paper he found on the battlefield floated out of his sleeve, gliding towards Gin. The Master smirked as the paper settled in front of the aging man. The clenched muscles of Gin's jaw and hands as he looked at the paper told plenty. Gin knew her as more than a face. He knew her personally, and very well.
He also hated her.
Gin glared at the paper a moment longer, and then his eyes shifted up to the Master's hidden face. "Don't waste your time. She's dead."
"Is that so? How did she perish?"
"At Lao Xan. Look for her if you want, but you'll be going on the same shadow chase as every other hunter that's after her. She's either obliterated or rotting in a hole somewhere." Gin spat at the paper. "Good riddance, too."
The Master knew Gin was lying. The tough tone and words might fool the typical Hunter rabble, but he was neither typical nor rabble. Gin knew Lara Anclagon was not dead. He could hear the resentment in his voice just from knowing she still drew breath. He wanted her dead just like everyone else. It irked him to no end that there was nothing he could do to ensure it because she was too far beyond his reach and too strong a force for him to overcome.
"All the same, tell me what you know of her," said the Master as he stowed the paper back in his sleeve.
Gin snorted, one arm leaning on the counter as he reached under the bar. "You're not from round here, are you?"
"What if I was?"
There was a sharp clicking noise. Gin's hand came up with a large bore pistol in it, the dark gray metal dully reflecting the light. He rested his elbow on the countertop, pointing the weapon at the Master's face.
"Ah." The Master looked down the pistol's barrel. "Is this how you greet all your customers?"
"Just heathen scum like you," said Gin, his finger resting firmly on the trigger. "I don't know where you're from, warlock, but around here nothing is free. Not time. Not lives. And definitely not information. So, unless you can pay up, the only thing you'll get is this bullet between your eyes if you don't clear out in the next ten seconds."
The Master quelled his urge to laugh out loud. He had never been threatened so brazenly before. It genuinely amused him how oblivious the man was to his own peril. He could easily dispose of Gin before he pulled the trigger and then extract the information out of him by other means. Or he could let the man fire and show him how utterly useless his weapon was. But his boldness was refreshing compared to the two-faced submissiveness Ursula and Morgana showed in his presence.
He reached into his sleeve, pulling out a bulging cloth sack. He dropped it on the counter, the undeniable sound of gold coming from within. "This for everything you know about her, and not a thing less. And while you're at it, a drink as well."
Gin looked at the bag, then at the Master, and then back at the bag. He kept the pistol trained on him as his free hand fished into it. He pulled out a handful of gold nuggets, carefully placing them onto the counter. He picked one up and pressed it against the wood, feeling the metal give slightly under the force. He picked up two more and did the same. The gold was real.
"Everything I know, eh?" Gin set the pistol down and reached back under the counter, pulling out two dusty cups and a bottle of rice wine. He ripped the cork out with his teeth and spat it aside before pouring. "Then I hope you're a patient man, 'cause I know more about her than anyone else. Let's see…I met the kid five years ago."
The Master took his cup, swirling the wine gently. "Do go on."
Glowerhaven town was ablaze with the light and chatter of the spring festival. Every lamp was lit, every window filled with a candle's dancing glow, and every street crowded with people. The air buzzed with countless voices. Lively music brought forth the drumming of dancing footsteps, the beating of shoes on the ground resonating with the thump-thump of hearts made light by merriment. Ribbons and flags as colorful and varied as the rainbow decorated the streets, fluttering as though stirred by the joy saturating the night. The town had become a great living thing, thrumming with energy as it breathed and moved with a will of its own. Others watched as elegant carriages made their way along roads lined with onlookers, each hoping to catch a glimpse of the esteemed passengers making their way to the heart of their kingdom that was Glowerhaven castle.
The castle was the very definition of one. It was a sprawling structure of stone blocks cut from the slopes of the White Iron Mountains centuries ago. The passage of time saw new wings, walls, and battlements added to its sprawl, but the core of its design never changed. Guards walked along the walls, their routes lit by the lanterns they held or the torches burning in wrought iron sconces. The central keep rose tall above the parapets, the flag of Glowerhaven waving proudly from the towers. A thick wooden gate had been opened, allowing the carriages through the outer wall. They passed through the gardens of the bailey, the splendor of its sculpted hedges, blooming roses, and intricate water features obscured in the dusk. The carriages rolled onward as the road stretched up to the keep, a tall four storied structure with carved steps overlaid by vibrant red carpet leading to its main doors. Light poured out of tall windows, as though daylight were trapped within. The carriages moved in a flowing circle towards the imprisoned light, unloading guests one by one before driving away to await their return. The guests ascended the carpet covered stairs, passing by the silent yet watchful guards flanking the doors. They entered into an archway of radiance like souls entering the Heavens, silhouetted in the glow before disappearing. Inside they found a great hall lined with stone pillars, the standards of noble families and knights displayed proudly from them. The red carpet led them into the bowels of the keep, guiding them through passageways and halls. The keep was not a dingy, cold construct of stone, but a welcoming and open home befitting a king.
Tapestries of old legends and portraits of monarchs long past guided the guests as they walked, till at last they came to a pair of gilded doors framed by curtains as vibrantly red as the carpet that led them there. Through it was a two-story staircase descending into a grand ballroom as vast and open as a cathedral. The floor was polished marble and mosaic tiles, forming the flower crest of the kingdom of Glowerhaven. Tall white granite pillars stretched to the domed ceiling above, supporting a second story balcony that encircled the entire room. Chandeliers of glass and crystal hung from the ceiling, scattering the light of uncountable lanterns. The walls bore tall paned windows, allowing the observer a view of the magnificent royal gardens surrounding the keep. Tables had been set out and piled high with the finest foods the kitchens could prepare. A live orchestra played from the balcony, their music filling the ballroom from floor to ceiling. The guests milled about like a colony of ants, the apparent chaos of their individual movements, speech, and interests flowing together in an unconscious order. At the far end of the room, past the open floor where couples danced in time with the live music, the standard of Glowerhaven hung large and proud over a raised dais bearing the throne. But the throne was empty, for the host of this merry night was at the foot of the stairs, personally greeting his guests as they entered.
King Benjamin II of Glowerhaven had not stopped smiling since the party began. He loved parties. He loved the music. He loved the food. He loved the dancing. He loved the company. He loved the conversation. He loved the energy. He loved the grandeur. He loved the memories. He loved everything about them. But the thing he loved most was the happiness it brought to others. He was someone who believed the measure of a man could be taken by how he treated his guests, and he spared no expense to see that his spent their time in comfort and enjoyment.
Of course, ensuring such delight for his guests came with a price. Even a king had to pay for his luxuries. Ben, however, was not a prodigal fool who drove his people into squalor to fatten his midline and coffers. He knew a good king was one whose power came from the support of his people, but a great king was one who used that power to lift his people with him. And no soul could deny that Ben was a great king. He cared for his people as a loving father looked after his children, placing their needs and benefits before his own. This party was no exception. Even with its extravagance, Ben found a way to enrich his people through the party's expenses. Every aspect of it, from the food to the ribbons to the band, had been sourced directly from Glowerhaven, effectively returning the crown's wealth to its people. And given the scale of the party, much had been returned!
"A pleasure to see you again!" he said as the shook the hand of his latest guests. "Please enjoy yourselves!"
His smile broadened as he looked back over the ballroom, delighted to see countless smiles among the sea of faces. Truly, few things brought him as much joy as bestowing it unto others. What a delight it was to see so many familiar and new faces in one place! He had to admit, though, there were two faces he was particularly looking forward to seeing again this evening.
The announcer at the top of the stairs cleared his throat. "Presenting, from the kingdom of Seahaven…!"
Ben quickly turned back to the stairway, his pulse rising with anticipation. Was it them? Were they here? Clearly, he was not the only one interested in this announcement, as many faces turned to the stairs.
"Their royal majesties, Queen Ariel and Princess Melody!"
Ariel strode into view at the top of the stairs. She was dressed in a gown of a bewitching jewel green. Her red hair spilled down her back like a crimson waterfall, the diamond adorning the tiara upon her head sparkling like a star. Keeping stride with her mother was Melody in a dress of rose pink, her ears set with ruby earrings to match. A blue diamond ring adorned her left hand. The pair smiled broadly, waving to the people below.
The announcer was about to move onto the next guest as Ariel started down the stairs when Melody came up to him and whispered something in his ear. She must have said something exciting or alarming, because Ben saw the man's eyes widen even from where he stood.
"She's here?" the announcer asked, genuine excitement in his voice. "She's really here!?"
Melody gave an affirming nod and turned back to the doors. "Come on, Lara!"
"I…I don't feel so good, Mel," said Lara's unusually timid voice from behind the door.
"That's just nerves!" assured Melody. "Trust me, it'll go away in a bit."
"I think I'm gonna be sick. I'll go wait in the carriage."
Melody folded her arms, tapping her foot impatiently. "Lara, you promised me we wouldn't do this."
"I can't help it, Mel! No one's dressed remotely like me! I look ridiculous! They're gonna laugh!"
"No one's going to laugh! And no one's dressed like you because no one else could pull it off a tenth as well as you do! You look amazing! Everyone back home said so! Even Grimsby said so! Now stop being a fraidy catfish and come on!"
"That's fraidy cat, Mel."
"Not under the sea it's not."
"We're not in the sea!"
"And…!" continued the announcer. "Accompanying their majesties, royally appointed guardian of Princess Melody, and winner of the most recent Tournament of Champions, Miss Lara Anclagon!"
Melody smiled. "That's your cue, Lara!"
Lara sighed heavily in resignation. "I'm gonna regret this…"
A figure emerged from behind the door, its features concealed in shadow till it stepped up beside Melody and into the light. A wave of awed voices rolled through the room.
She was a young woman of Melody's age dressed in a full-length robe of crimson red, as though she were wrapped in the petals of a rose. The red color transitioned abruptly at her knees to orange, yellow, green, and then a deep indigo as it draped over her feet. Embroidered white and yellow hibiscus flowers decorated the hem and left sleeve, the details so exquisite it seemed real flowers had been set in the fabric. A white undershirt revealed traces of itself along her neckline and the cuffs of her sleeves. A wide black silk sash secured with an orange cord was wrapped around her slender middle. Her brunette hair shone like polished walnut, held behind her by a jeweled comb. Her ears, brow, and lower lip bore piercings of the finest gold, complementing the red and orange glass pendant than hung from her neck. Her face had not the slightest touch of powder or color, but surely any attempt to paint her face would detract from her beauty and the fierce clarity of her golden amber eyes. Even the scar across her right eye lent itself to her beauty.
A wave of excited chatter flew through the room like a flock of birds over a field as Lara and Melody descended the stairs.
"Did he just say Lara Anclagon? As in the Lara Anclagon?"
"That's Lara Anclagon? I thought it was another princess!"
"She defeated Richard Avitas, right?"
"I heard she rescued Queen Ariel's sister from a pirate crew!"
"I heard she slew a sea monster with her bare hands!"
"What magnificent clothes! Where on earth can I find something like that?"
"They say she can make a dozen men run scared just by looking at them!"
"I heard she's as strong as ten oxen!"
"I heard a viper once bit her in the leg! After five days of excruciating pain, the viper died!"
"Who exactly told you that?"
"Oh, you know…I heard it from someone who, uh…heard it from someone else…I think."
"Right…"
Melody saw Lara's cheeks blush with shy embarrassment. She honestly meant it when she said Lara looked great, but Lara clearly felt quite differently. She was not in a dress, but neither was she comfortable in these clothes now that they were actually at the ball. Lara was not one for dressing up or being the center of attention. Melody, on the other hand, grew up in such circumstances. It was impossible to avoid it when you were the princess of a kingdom. No doubt all these watching eyes had Lara's heart pounding in her chest and her stomach tying itself into knots. Fighting Richard was one thing, but this was an entirely new arena she was stepping into.
Suddenly Lara stopped on the stairs. So abrupt was her stop that Melody went a full three steps past her before halting herself. "Lara?"
Lara was staring straight ahead but not looking at anything. Her eyes had a familiar distant look to them, and there was a tremor in her hands. Her lips were moving with silent words, as though talking to an invisible man.
It may have looked odd to the onlookers, but Melody knew what was happening. Lara was having a flashback. Something about this ball had triggered a memory and she was diving down the rabbit hole that led to her past. Her body was in Glowerhaven, but her mind was thousands of miles away reliving a part of her life she likely wanted to leave undisturbed.
Melody quickly went to Lara, carefully taking one of her friend's hands. "Lara? Lara?"
Lara startled as she realized Melody was calling for her, flinching visibly. "Huh? What? Mel?"
"Are you okay?" asked Melody.
Lara nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just sort of zoned out."
"Another memory?"
Lara stiffened, but then relaxed. Truth be told, she was still sensitive about her memories from the eastern kingdoms. Even though she made tremendous progress in the six months since revealing her magic, she was not free of her flashbacks. They reared their ugly head every now and then. But she and Melody had an understanding of what to do when those memories did return, and this was no exception.
"Yeah," Lara said. "It was…"
"You look great!" the she said, clapping her hands together excitedly. "Just like a princess!"
Lara spun in front of the mirrors, looking herself over. She really did look like royalty in this outfit. "Um…not that I don't appreciate the effort, but isn't this is a little excessive? It's just a dinner party, right?"
"Excessive? This is normal for a dinner party!"
Lara frowned as she looked at herself in the mirror. "You've gotta be kidding me…"
She laughed and walked up behind Lara, throwing her arms around her neck as she perched her chin on Lara's shoulder. "Come on, it's just for one night. Will you at least wear it for me? Please? Pretty please?"
Lara rolled her eyes but still gave her characteristic lopsided smile. "You know I can't say no when you do that, right?"
Melody put her other hand on Lara's shoulder. "Do you need to a minute somewhere?"
Lara shook her head. "No, I'm good. I'll be okay."
"You sure? I don't want you to force yourself."
Lara nodded, giving Melody a lopsided smile and a reassuring squeeze of her hand. "Yeah. I'm good."
Melody returned her smile. "Okay. I believe you."
They continued down the stairs, following Ariel as they approached Ben.
"You're doing fine, Lara," Melody whispered. "Just remember what Grimsby said."
"Smile, be polite, and don't punch anyone," reiterated Lara.
"Especially that last one," said Melody.
"Ariel, my dear!"
The booming voice caused Lara and Melody to jump. Melody saw the corpulent and red bearded figure of her godfather King Ben waving to them with unexpected energy.
"Who's that?" asked Lara as she saw Ariel approach him and offer her hand, only to then laugh and hug the man instead.
"That's my Uncle Ben," said Melody.
Lara's eyes widened as she looked Ben over. "That's the king of Glowerhaven? Wow…is he welcoming the guests or eating them?"
"Lara!" exclaimed Melody, giving Lara a smack on the shoulder. "He's a very nice man!"
"I can think of two that would disagree: his pantry and his belt!"
WHAP!
"Ow!"
"It's good to see you again, Ben!" Ariel said as the king released her.
"Likewise!" said Ben. "It's been far too long! And gracious me! Is that my favorite god-daughter I see?"
Melody smiled as she came up next to her mother, leaving Lara rubbing the back of her smarting neck. "I'm your only god-daughter, Uncle Ben!"
Ben gave a loud laugh. "That you are, Melody! I cannot tell you how happy I am to see you and your smile again!"
"Nice to–oof!" Melody gasped as Ben picked her up in a strong bear hug. "Nice to see you too! Uncle Ben, there's someone I want you to meet. This is–."
"I know exactly who this is!" declared Ben as he set Melody down, facing Lara with an ear-to-ear smile under his beard as he came face-to-face with her.
It was meant innocuously, but Ben's words caused Lara to take a step back in alarm. "You do?"
The king set his hands on his hips, looking down at Lara. "But of course! The eyes of an eagle! The ferocity of a lion! The beauty of a mermaid! And…!" He reached out for Lara's hand but then paused. "If I may?"
Lara held still for a moment, and then slowly offered her hand to him. Ben took her arm instead and palpated it from shoulder to wrist.
"Too skinny for a late-night snack?" asked Lara.
Ariel had to cover her mouth to keep from either gasping or laughing. Melody's eyes widened at Lara's jab at the king's weight. "Lara, you…ugh!" She smacked a hand over her eyes.
Ben stared at Lara for a moment, and then threw his head back and let out a deep, booming laugh. "Ho-ha ha ha! Strong as iron yet supple as water! And with a wit to match! You're just as Melody and Ariel said!" Ben took Lara's hand in both of his, shaking it vigorously. "You must be Lara! I've heard a great deal about you! I cannot tell you how pleased I am to finally make your acquaintance!"
Lara looked at the queen and princess with a bewildered expression. "What have you two been telling people about me?"
Ariel gave a sly smile and a wink. "All good things."
Lara turned to King Ben, unsure how to answer his almost childish energy or presence. "It's, uh…nice to meet you too, your majesteeeeeeee!"
Melody and Ariel had to bite the inside of their lips to keep from laughing as Ben subjected Lara to a spine-popping hug, lifting her feet clear off the ground.
"Welcome to Glowerhaven, my dear!" declared Ben as he spun around. "Please just call me Ben! Any friend of Melody's is a friend of mine!"
"Can't…breathe…legs…numb…going…dark…someone…help…"
Remora watched as King Ben continued to squeeze Lara, sneering under her mask as she twirled a knife through the fingers of her right hand in a blur of endlessly practiced motions. What a simple fool that man was, dancing about with Lara like a little boy who was just given a puppy. He was so benign she did not even feel a desire to kill him. It would be as joyless as slicing open a bloated sack of damp rice. At least Riptide would find him a chewy snack.
She kept watching as Ben finally set Lara down. She stopped twirling her knife, gripping the handle tightly and imagining it was Lara's neck. She was close. Closer than she had ever been. She could reach out and kill the brat before she even realized there was a threat. It would be easy. Lara had not even brought her sword along. What an idiot. Six months of peace and she had gone soft.
But snuffing out Lara's life like a candle would not be enough to satisfy Remora. Any moron with a sharp object and enough motivation could kill. This was about vengeance, and vengeance needed to be savored. It was not every day she got to kill someone she despised so greatly. No, she had to make this worth her time. And she would start by testing her newest creation on Lara. She would make for the perfect field test. If it defeated her, Remora could step in and drag her back to destroy at her leisure. If the brat survived…well, then Remora would still have the pleasure of killing Lara herself.
A smile twisted Remora's mouth. It was time to get the experiment underway.
"Ow, ow, ow…" Lara clutched the small of her back as she straightened up. There were several loud pops from her spine, likely from vertebra sliding back into alignment. How such an obese man could be so strong she did not know.
"You'll have to forgive Uncle Ben," said Melody, doing her best not to laugh at Lara. "He can be a bit…energetic."
"Yeah, especially in his *crack* biceps!" grunted Lara as one of her ribs shifted back into place.
Ben laughed, a beaming smile under his beard as he thrust his thumbs through his belt. "So! I take it your journey here was a pleasant one?"
"Very," said Ariel. "Spring in Glowerhaven is still as lovely as I remember."
"We're not called the kingdom of flowers for nothing!" said Ben. "It was a good winter, so the fields are especially vibrant this year! You simply must make a point of visiting them before you leave!"
"That's exactly what we plan to do on our way home, Ben. After all, I did promise her." Everyone turned to see Eric had joined them, dressed in his best white military uniform.
"Eric!" said Ariel, all but throwing herself into his arms. "When did you sneak up on us?"
"Oh, I happened to be passing by and saw a few familiar faces," he said with a grin before giving Ariel a quick kiss. "You look beautiful Melody, and…wow! Is that really you, Lara? I barely recognized you! You look amazing!"
Lara's cheeks blushed red as she stared nervously at the floor. "Uh…t-thanks."
"Ah, there you are Eric!" said Ben, clapping Eric on the shoulder. "Where have you been hiding? The party started well over an hour ago!"
"Finishing a quick review of the documents from this morning," said Eric. "Which reminds me, I need to talk to you about what happened in weasel–I mean, Weselton. Rider may be just a thief, but his meddling with the Duke could–."
Lara's ears perked and her hair started to bristle, one hand going to her pendant as the other clenched into a fist. "Flynn Rider!? Where!?"
Melody patted Lara's shoulder. "Down, girl. He's not here."
"He better not…" Lara growled.
Ben cut Eric off with a wave of his hand. "Eric, Eric! This is a party! Forget about business! That can always wait till tomorrow! The papers are not going anywhere, but the party will if you keep fussing over such matters! Relax! Loosen up! Enjoy yourself! Don't worry about Rider or the Duke! We'll address them in due time!"
Ben leaned in close to Ariel and Eric. "Mind you, I'm inclined to shake that Rider rascal's hand after the stunt he pulled with the Duke's toupee."
Ariel stifled a laugh behind her hand.
A loud, rumbling growl emitted from Lara's stomach just then, interrupting everyone's thoughts. "Someone's hungry…again!" Melody laughed.
Lara made a small scowl. "Hey, lunch was six hours ago! Cut me some slack! I have a fast metabolism!"
Ben gave another laugh. "Well, I can't have such an esteemed guest going hungry at my party! The food is on the eastern side of the ballroom, and there's plenty of it! Please help yourself and enjoy the party!"
"Sounds good!" said Melody, taking Lara's hand.
They started to walk off when Ben said, "A moment, Lara!"
Lara stopped, turning to face the large king. "What is it…er, Ben?"
Ben reached out and took one of Lara's hands in both of his. "I cannot thank you enough for what you've done for my god-daughter and her parents. Were it not for you, I shudder to think of what would have happened when that sea monster attacked! What you did was a very brave and admirable thing! With you in Seahaven, I can sleep easy knowing they are under your care."
The king then surprised everyone nearby by taking a knee and bowing to Lara. "From the bottom of my heart, thank you!"
Lara was as taken aback by the king's gesture as everyone else. It was not often that a king bowed to anyone. "Uh, no problem. Really. Just doing my job. Not that it was just about the job, I mean! I would've done it anyway, but…oh man, what am I saying?"
Melody laughed. "Come on, Lara. Let's feed you before one of the guests goes missing."
"I'm not that hungry," mumbled Lara as Melody led her through the crowd.
Ben chuckled as he watched his god-daughter and her guardian/friend head for the food. "She's quite a character, that Lara. I see why they're such good friends."
"I don't think friends is a strong enough word anymore," said Ariel.
"They weren't always so close," admitted Eric. "But we're glad they are now. She's been an unexpected but welcome addition to our lives."
Ben's ever-present smile widened as he rose. "Well, I would love to stay and chat with you all evening, but I must return to my guests. Please make yourselves at home! My castle is your castle!"
"Thank you!" said Ariel. "I hope we'll see you again before returning home."
"Nothing would make me happier!" Ben bowed to each of them and then went to welcome an elderly earl and countess. "Ah, my friends! It has been too long!"
Eric straightened himself up. "Well, I think we should take Ben's advice and enjoy this party." He offered his hand to Ariel. "May I have this dance?"
Ariel smiled, gently resting her hand in his as they made their way to the middle of the dance floor. "Always."
Ursula swam down the dark corridor to where the water ended. Her suckered tentacles latched onto the gritty rock surface, hauling her into the air with a wave of water. She felt the now familiar sensation of her lungs switching from water to air and coughed at the tickle it made in her throat. Her tentacles pulled her through the halls, her shadow rising and falling with each glowshell she passed.
"That's just typical," she grumbled as she went. "Halfway through a potion and come to find sissy helped herself to my cupboards when I wasn't looking. Mother never did get that miscreant to ask before taking…not that she got me to, either."
She slunk past the metal doors to Remora's workshop, but then slowed to a stop. It was unusually quiet in there, given the masked witch's outburst at their most recent conference with the Master. Normally Remora would rage for days when something upset her, and she made that loudly obvious to everyone. It was actually impressive how much energy that human could draw from anger alone. Like everyone else, Ursula was wise enough to give the electromancer a wide berth when that happened. Remora was not known for leniency when she was in a mood. Now, however, it was so quiet Ursula could hear her own breathing. Very, very unusual.
Her curiosity started to build the longer she stared at that door. What would compel Remora to be so quiet? Was she working again? No doubt on that project she finished, or so she claimed. Perhaps she had raged to the point of exhaustion?
A thought occurred to her. Remora claimed the project was finished. She never actually proved it. All Remora did was threaten her and Morgana into silence. What if it was a bluff? What if she was so desperate to go after Lara Anclagon that she lied to the Master? It was no secret that Remora's hatred for the young sorceress ran deep, although no one understood why. Maybe she was trying to get her prize before the work was done? Maybe she was in there now, desperately working as quiet as she could to convert her fib into fact before her lie was discovered.
Ursula carefully backtracked to the door and pressed an ear to it. Oddly, she heard nothing from the other side. No sounds of machinery, no screaming, and no voices. It was dead quiet in there. But it was never quiet in Remora's workshop. She always had something going on.
"Something smells fishy here..." Ursula stepped back and raised her fist to pound on the door. Then, thinking better in case a scythe came slicing through the metal for her, gave the door three soft raps with her knuckles. She quickly flinched back and stayed silent, waiting for an answer. Nothing came.
"Remora? You in there?" she asked, resisting the urge to throw an insult at the end of every question. "Some of my materials have gone missing. You didn't happen to borrow them, did you?"
Still no reply. Normally Remora was able to sense anyone well before they reached the door. Given their history of interactions, she used that awareness to devise some new death threat which she would shout out in advance. But there was no insult or warning this time.
Ursula frowned. Something was definitely off. Slowly as she could she pushed the door open. She warily peeked in, ready to yank her head back if anything sharp or electrical came flying at it.
Remora's laboratory was empty. There was no sign of the witch anywhere. Ursula did a cautious lap through the laboratory, taking care not to disturb anything as she went. The curved weapons on the walls, the blood splatters on the grated floor, the jars of ingredients on the table, what remained of her latest victim strapped to the work table, chains hanging from the ceiling–nothing seemed out of place.
"That's odd…" she said to herself, a tentacle scratching her head as she went back to the door. "Must be down in the Factory. Probably torturing some unlucky sap for the heck of it. That, or testing out her new…toy!"
Ursula spun around, racing back to the jars of materials she saw before. She picked them up one by one, quickly identifying the materials in each. "Tortoise beetle wings! Cuttlefish skins! Octopus hearts! Flounder scales! And–!"
She stared hard into the jar, having to hold it up to the light to see what was inside. It was difficult, but there was a single long human hair within it–a hair of a very, very familiar shade of red.
Ursula whipped her head around to the table, looking closely at what was left of the latest victim of Remora's barbarism. There was enough for Ursula to know it was once a human woman. However, she also noticed the body was missing one very obvious part.
And now that she thought about it, where was Remora's project?
A shrill scream of anger tore from Ursula's throat as all the clues came together. She raced for the door and slammed it behind her, tearing down the corridor towards her own chambers. She knew exactly what Remora was doing, and where she went.
"That stupid, trigger-happy, half-cocked human numbskull!" she fumed, tentacles pulling her along at a sprint. "She's at the ball!"
Time rolled on without any sense of its passing for Ariel and Eric as they danced across the ballroom floor, following the flow of the music and their fellow dancers. It had been so long since they had a night like this to enjoy themselves. Even amidst the throngs of onlookers they felt like they were in a world all their own–just the two of them dancing together. They caught sight of Melody and Lara a few times over at the tables, making conversation with fellow guests. The two young women even gave them a thumbs up on one pass around the dance floor.
The latest song came to a close with the sound of applause from dancers and onlookers alike. Ariel and Eric made their way to the edge of the dance floor, both slightly out of breath from the high level of energy of their latest dance.
"See? Like I told you," said Eric, dabbing at his brow with a kerchief. "Like riding a horse. It all comes back to you."
"We haven't danced that one in years!" said Ariel. "I don't know how I remembered it all!"
Eric reached out and took her hand. "Helps when you have a good partner."
Ariel smiled at him. "You, or me?"
"Both." Eric was about to say something else when he caught site of someone. "Would you excuse me for a moment? I see Gerrod just joined us and I forgot to discuss something with him."
Ariel arched a brow. "This better not be business, Eric, or I'll tell Ben."
Eric clapped a hand to his heart, feigning insult. "How awful! To think you, my beautiful and beloved wife, whom I cherish more than anything else, would suspect me of working at a party! Oh, woe! What a shameful man I've become to lose the faith of my dearest!"
Ariel laughed and playfully shoved Eric. "Go, you goof! I'll be right here."
Eric leaned in and placed a quick kiss on her lips. "Love you."
Ariel watched Eric weave his way through the crowd towards the towering figure of Gerrod. The lingering feeling of his warm lips on hers made her smile.
"Queen Ariel."
A chill ran up Ariel's spine, wiping the smile from her face. She knew that slick, cold voice. It was one she had not heard in almost a year, and one she hoped to avoid hearing ever again. Clearly her wish had not been granted.
She turned around to find King Willard of Strihaven facing her. He was dressed in dark blue with silver trimmings from head to toe. He seemed more solid than the last time Ariel saw him, filling out his clothes and presence more completely. His salt-and-pepper hair was combed straight back, as though done with the intention of further exposing his disquieting blue eyes. Ariel felt abnormally vulnerable as she met is gaze, as though she were a specimen on a table he was about to dissect.
Still, Ariel was a queen, and she would not be cowed so easily. Especially not by this man. She squared up to him, hands folded politely if stiffly before her. "King Willard. To what do I owe the–?"
Willard held up his hand, cutting her off. "Spare me the formal pretenses. You and I both know it brings you no pleasure to have me standing before you like this, much less speaking to you. You're not glad to see me in the least. In fact, you'd rather you never saw me at all. Am I wrong?"
Ariel was about to deny Willard's insinuation but stopped herself. She could try to refute that, but then she would be lying to him and herself. She folded her arms together, her expression becoming tight and stern. "No, I'm not glad to see you. I haven't forgotten the last time I saw you, or the things you've said and done. I know you were grieving, but what you said to my daughter was uncalled for. Your words to Eric and I were no better, and the same goes for your decision to turn your back on us. I'm surprised to see you here at all."
Willard closed his eyes for a moment. "It was my intention to leave before this evening. But Benjamin insisted I attend the festivities. Juvenile as he can be at times, he's quite persuasive in his own way. Said I should celebrate the official return of Strihaven to the Alliance amongst 'newfound comrades.'"
Ariel tensed as though she had been pricked with a needle. "So, you went through with it after all? Strihaven is back in the Alliance."
"Yes. The decree was signed this afternoon."
"And what did you get in return?"
Willard snagged a glass of wine from a passing servant. "What makes you think I wanted anything to start with?
"Because you're not kind of man that does anything for free. Or the kind of man that lets go of a grudge."
Willard's eye twitched at her jab, his jaw clenching for a moment. He took a sip from his wine, mulling over the flavor before continuing. "I'll be frank with you. I would be lying if I said I bear no anger towards you and your family. Were it not for that party or your history with those sea hags, my son would still be alive. I also find it inexcusable that, with the trident at your father's disposal and two-score guards in attendance, my son still fell victim to a single assassin. He, like your other guests, was under your protection, and as such it was your responsibility to keep him safe. From where I stand, his blood is very much on your hands…and your fins."
Ariel's own jaw tightened, waiting as Willard stared down into his wine glass as he swirled the liquid. She should have expected as much from a man nicknamed the Fox King. He was always keeping score of something, whether it was money or perceived slights. She had a feeling his next words would only reinforce her image of the man.
Then Willard sighed, his shoulders sagging low. The move surprised Ariel. It was as if she were literally watching the fight drain out of him. He suddenly appeared very old and tired.
"However, I also know those sentiments are misplaced," continued Willard. "You are no more responsible for William's death than I am. Morgana and Ursula are the ones who murdered him, and it is with them that the blame truly lies. What I said to your family, my actions against your kingdom and allies…I did so out of pain and anger. Without William's killers close at hand I lashed out at whoever was within reach. It was a pitiful and shameful mistake. I take no pleasure or pride from it, and I don't ask your forgiveness. I only ask this in the hope you may understand some fraction of why: if our situations were reversed, and it were your daughter who perished under the care of my own kingdom, would you hold no ill will against us? If your daughter was slain while under her guard's watch, would you put no blame on her? Amidst all the pain that would surely follow, could you truly do it?"
Ariel opened her mouth to speak but held back. It was simple enough to say no, of course she would not. She would be able to lay blame where it belonged and nowhere else. She was not like him. But could she really do that? If Melody had died at the party, could she really lay blame solely on Morgana and Ursula? Could she not be angry at her father for failing to protect her with the trident? Could she not blame their guards for failing to catch the murderer before the deed was done? What would she honestly do if Melody did somehow perish on Lara's watch? What would she do if she were in Willard's shoes?
Now it was Ariel who sighed. "Unfair as it may be, a part of me still would."
Willard nodded in solemn agreement. "I make no excuse for my words or actions, because I have none. But what I can do is retract my words and extend my deepest and truest apologies to you and your family." He looked up from his wine. "You wish to know what I wanted in return for rejoining the Alliance? When those witches are found, I want them taken alive, tried before a court in the Alliance, and punished accordingly."
"Taken alive?" said Ariel with genuine surprise. "I would've thought you'd want them killed on sight."
Willard's hand tightened around the wine glass, holding back from cracking it. "I do. And from what I've learned, death may be the only means of stopping them. If they were put before me right now, I would not hesitate to strike either of them down. But that is not what William would have wanted. William was young and had much to learn, but he believed in righteousness and the better angels of mankind. Therefore, I will honor his memory, and do as he would have. In return for this, I pledge Strihaven's loyalty to the Alliance. We will stop Morgana and Ursula, and all who align themselves with their goals."
The king took another drink of wine and then extended it to Ariel. "That is what I want, Queen Ariel. I want my son's death avenged, and I want the ones responsible to face justice. And I want to apologize to you, here and now, for what I have said and done; and swear that you will have my full support in ending their evil once and for all."
Ariel looked at the wine glass for a moment, and then reached out and took it. "I accept your apology, King Willard. And your help is greatly appreciated."
"Your benevolence truly knows no bounds, your highness," said Willard as Ariel sipped the red drink. "If I am honest, I did not believe you would accept my apology."
"The one you should really apologize to is Melody," said Ariel as she handed the glass back to him. "I can't say she'll be as understanding as I am, though."
"I've already done so," said Willard.
"You have?"
"I ran into your daughter and her bodyguard not five minutes before finding you. She was...how can I put this…less 'restrained' with her vocabulary than you about the matter. She had some very choice words for me."
"I can imagine," said Ariel.
"Her bodyguard also looked eager to toss me out one of these windows. She's a dangerous one, that girl. But to their credit, Melody did accept my apology, and no windows are broken." Willard perked up suddenly. "Which reminds me…your daughter was looking for you."
"She was?" said Ariel.
"Yes. When I was done making my apologies, she asked me where you were. She said she had something of great importance to discuss with you. Shame I had not run into you first. I could have given her a more helpful answer."
"Do you know where she went?" asked Ariel.
Willard looked and then pointed to a small doorway on the western side of the ballroom. "I believe I saw her go out to the gardens along with her guard."
"Thank you," said Ariel, turning to leave. She started to go but then stopped and turned back to Willard. "And…I am truly sorry about William. He was a fine young man. If it's any consolation, Eric and I would have given him our blessing to marry Melody."
Willard raised his glass to her, giving a sad but grateful smile. "Thank you, your highness. Your words are very kind."
With that, Ariel gave a small curtsy and hurried off through the crowd.
"Strihaven rejoining the Alliance, and Willard apologizing," she whispered to herself. "Wonders never cease to amaze."
Willard continued to watch Ariel as she left, the smile he bore twisting into a conniving scowl once her back was to him. What a gullible little cherub she was, so willing to believe his fake remorse. He practically spoon-fed that sob-story to her, and she gobbled it up as easily as her husband and that foolish Ben had. No wonder they had yet to find Maelstrom on their own. They were all far too soft in the head and heart. The only one he failed to fully convince was Gerrod, but he anticipated as much. Vorhaven people were loyal to a fault, stubborn as the mountains of their kingdom, and suspicious of outsiders.
No matter. He had no intention of returning Strihaven to the Alliance to start with. This was all a façade. A signature on a piece of paper and a vow over a shared glass of wine meant nothing to him. He pledged his support to Maelstrom and, provided they gave him what was promised, with Maelstrom it would remain.
He scanned over the heads of the guests till he spotted the respective raven and brunette hair of Princess Melody and her guardian on the eastern side of the ballroom. It was no coincidence he approached Ariel when and from the direction he did. With her preoccupied with his little speech, she failed to notice her daughter or the hired sword not fifty feet behind her. With Ariel out of the way, the first part of his role here was complete.
Willard bided his time, sipping at his wine as he watched Melody and Lara. They hung close to the wall, chatting with the odd person but otherwise talking amongst themselves as Lara continued to eat. How that child managed to consume so much without bloating like a stuffed pig was beyond him. He continued watching them for a good ten minutes, and then he snagged a passing servant.
"May I be of service to you, sire?" asked the servant.
"You may. Deliver a message to Princess Melody," he said, gesturing to her. "Tell her that Queen Ariel has requested her and her guardian's presence out in the west gardens. She has a matter of great importance to discuss with them."
"Of course, sire," said the servant, giving Willard a bow before walking off to relay his message. He continued watching as the servant made his way to Melody and Lara. They spoke with him briefly and then made their way to the opposite side of the ballroom and out into the gardens.
Willard moved his left hand behind his back, as though holding it there. He spun the silver ring on his finger around so the yellow jewel was in his palm and then pressed down. The jewel turned black and threw off several small arcs of electricity, sending a prickling sensation like pins and needles racing up his arm to his neck. He felt something enter his mind and pull at it, like a tug on a string from some distant hand.
"What?" demanded a sharp female voice inside Willard's head.
"The little fish has left the pond, Lady Remora," Willard said mentally. "And her two minnows just went after her. Feel free to send your shark in."
"Good. You've got ten minutes to clear out, unless you want to end up splattered on the walls like the rest of them."
Willard turned on his heels and walked briskly for the exit, heading up the stairs and out the main door. His role in this was over, and he was wise enough to keep his involvement with Remora to a bare minimum. Things were about to get messy, and he did not want to be anywhere near here when it started.
"As I said, mermaid," he muttered under his breath as he left the ballroom. "I want justice for William, and I will have it and my revenge–starting with you and your father."
Up in Ben's private study, Remora was making herself at home. She kicked her feet up on the king's desk, slouching down in his large armchair. She continued to watch the ball through the enchanted metal mirror she created, observing Lara, Melody, and Ariel making their way through the gardens in pursuit of each other.
She smirked, shifting the mirror's view to watch Willard leave the keep for his carriage, the vehicle pulling away moments later to take him far away from Glowerhaven castle. She could see why the Master wanted to exploit rather than remove him. He had been bleeding information on the Alliance to them ever since Ursula approached him. He was easy to motivate, and smart enough to know how to keep his kingdom in the dark and his head still attached when Remora herself came calling. He did not question her orders or motives when she demanded his aid. All he wanted to know was what to do and when to do it. And he pulled it off perfectly. If he survived what was coming, she would seriously consider adding him to her ranks.
She crossed her legs as the knife in her hands dissolved into iron dust, swirling into her robes like an obedient swarm of gnats. The game had started. Soon it would be time to play.
She raised a hand and snapped her fingers, a spark of electricity jumping between them. "Command: activate."
Ariel walked briskly along the garden path. The Glowerhaven gardens were almost as lovely by moon and torch light as they were by day. The attentively manicured hedges guided her through a colorful assortment of all manner of flowers. Roses, chrysanthemums, tulips, lantanas, irises, and petunias were only the tip of the flowers tended to in these gardens. More than a few party guests had stepped outside to enjoy the gardens, perhaps needing a break from the energy inside or seeking a quiet romantic moment with their partner. Ariel made a note to walk these paths with Eric before they returned to Seahaven. Something about this place always put her at ease. Perhaps she could convince him to stay here an extra day.
Before any of that, however, she needed to find Lara and Melody. Where were those two? Willard said they were looking for her, but she had not so much as glimpsed them out here. She had been searching a good twenty minutes now but had not seen hide or hair of them. Her search had taken her almost to the eastern side of the garden. Maybe they were looking for her as well and were moving in the opposite direction? Or maybe they returned indoors thinking she was in there?
She stopped beside a patch of vibrant red tulips, giving a mildly frustrated huff. "I guess I'll try back inside. They must've–."
"Mom!"
"Or they're behind me…" Ariel turned around to see Melody and Lara trotting up the path towards her. "There you are! I've been looking all over the gardens for you two!"
"Same here," said Melody as she and Lara came to a stop, their breathing slightly elevated. "You wanted to talk to us?"
"You can go first," said Ariel.
Melody's confusion was visible on her face. "Go first with what?"
"With whatever it is you wanted to talk to me about."
"I didn't have anything to talk about," said Melody. "Did you?"
"Not unless you did," said Lara.
Ariel's brow furrowed. "Then why did you want to speak with me?"
"We thought you wanted to speak with us," said Lara. "That's what the man told us. He said it was important."
"What man?" asked Ariel.
"One of Uncle Ben's servants," said Melody. "He said you had something important to tell us."
Ariel pinched her brow, feeling a headache threatening to start. "Okay, back up. Let's start over…"
Eric's "business" with Garrod took a bit longer than he anticipated, but they got it sorted out. Now he was surveying the crowd to find Ariel amidst the sea of faces circulating through the ballroom. Normally he could find her with a glance–her red hair was rather distinct–but tonight he was having more difficulty than usual. Perhaps she stepped outside to enjoy the gardens?
His theory proved more plausible when he saw Ariel enter the ballroom from a door on the eastern side. She must have gone out to enjoy the famous Glowerhaven royal flower garden while he spoke with Garrod. He made a note to walk the gardens with her before they had to leave. Ariel would adore the flowers by daylight.
He made his way towards her, watching as she moved quietly back into the room, hands folded in front of her. She stared out a window as he approached, oblivious to his presence. The band started a new song. A tune suited for a slow waltz, from the sound of it.
Eric walked up behind Ariel, holding out his hand to her. "May I have another dance, my lady?"
Ariel turned to face him, and for a brief moment Eric felt something. Not the adoration and joy that he normally felt when he looked into Ariel's eyes. He felt a disquieting malaise, a trepidation that made his insides tighten and his skin prickle. Her face was completely impassive, as though she lost all capacity for emotion. Her eyes were empty, her gaze piercing straight through him. He could have sworn there was a green glimmer to them. It was like staring into the dead creepy eyes of a doll.
Then Ariel smiled and nodded, laying his hand in hers. Eric dismissed his misgivings as he led her out onto the dance floor. Ben was right. He really needed to loosen up.
"Let's see if we have this right," said Ariel as she, Melody, and Lara made their way back to the ballroom. "You were told by a servant that I wanted to speak with you."
"And Willard told you that I wanted to speak with you," added Melody.
"So, who wanted to speak with who?" asked Lara.
"She did," Ariel and Melody said at the same time.
Lara rolled her head back, giving an exasperated groan. "Someone clearly got something mixed up."
"I don't know. That guy specifically said you wanted to talk to us," said Melody as they started up the steps, the guard beside it bowing to her.
"Hello," said Ariel, nodding to the guard as she started up the steps.
The guard gave a short bow to her in return. "Hello again, your majesty."
Ariel was about eight steps up the stairs when she stopped. "Wait a…" She ran back to the guard. "What did you say?"
The guard shifted nervously. "I, uh…I said hello, your majesty. Should I not have?"
Melody and Lara stopped on the stairs. "What's wrong, mom?" asked Melody.
"No, say exactly what you just said!" Ariel clarified, leaning in close to the guard. "I mean word-for-word! What did you say?"
The poor man tugged at his collar, actually starting to sweat as he avoided looking directly into Ariel's eyes. "I…I said, 'Hello again, your majesty.' Did I say something wrong?"
"You said, 'hello again.' Why?"
"Well, this is the second time your majesty has passed by here this evening."
"That's impossible," said Ariel. "This is my first time out here."
"Something wrong, Eric?" asked Ariel as she followed Eric's lead through the dance.
Eric shook his head as he slowly twirled Ariel in a circle. "No, nothing's wrong."
It was a lie and he knew it. Something was wrong, but he had no idea what. Nothing was out of place. Ariel looked and spoke like she always had. She was as gorgeous as always. She danced as beautifully as always. And her smile was as bright and bewitching as always.
So why did he feel like he was dancing with a complete stranger?
"Your majesty, I swear on King Benjamin's beard this is the second time you've passed this way!" insisted the guard.
"But I haven't been this way before!" repeated Ariel. "I came out on the other side of the garden! This is the east entrance, right?"
"That is correct, your majesty," said the guard.
"I came in from the west side! Not this one!"
"When was the first time you saw Ariel?" asked Lara.
The guard scratched his head. "Erm…maybe twenty minutes ago, give or take a few?"
"That's about when I came outside," said Ariel.
"Outside? But you went inside, your majesty," said the guard.
Ariel blinked at him. "Inside?"
Lara's brow furrowed in confusion. "Wait a second. You saw Ariel go inside the ballroom?"
"Yes," said the guard, clearly not understanding why she was having difficulty with that concept. "I just assumed she'd finished seeing the gardens and was returning to the party."
Ariel's brow furrowed in confusion. "I wasn't in the gardens before then."
"All right, let me see if I have this straight," said Melody. "Mom, you said you went out to the gardens around twenty minutes ago, and you left the ballroom from the west side."
"Right," affirmed Ariel.
Melody turned to the guard. "And you're saying she went into the ballroom through the east side around the same time? And you're positive it was her? One-hundred percent sure? There's no way it could have been anyone else?"
The guard clapped a fist over his heart in the style of a Glowerhaven salute. "I swear it, Princess. There is no mistaking the queen of Seahaven. Her majesty passed right by me and went inside to the party."
Melody held her chin with one hand, pondering what the guard was saying. "But how can mom be in two places at once? I didn't see anyone that could pass for her doub–."
All three women looked up at the same time as the realization hit them like a physical blow. It only took a moment's glance into each other's faces to know they all reached the same alarming conclusion.
"It's a double!" they exclaimed as one.
"A what?" said the guard.
"That wasn't me!" said Ariel. "That was someone pretending to be me!"
Melody looked up the stairs, eyes widening as the gnawing sensation of anxious fear rapidly rose in her stomach. "But that means…!"
Ariel's face paled. "Eric!"
Lara was already ripping her sash off as she bounded up the stairs, Ariel and Melody frantically climbing after her.
"Your majesties, what is going on?" called the guard after them.
"Find Uncle Ben, and tell him we need soldiers now!" called back Melody. "My dad's in danger!"
Remora could not help but smirk as she watched the queen, the princess, and the brat work out her plan. Truthfully, she had not planned on them figuring it out until it was too late. But there was a certain appeal to this as well. She loved seeing the panic rise in them as they realized they had fallen into a trap. The look on their faces was like an animal feeling the trigger give way on a trap moments before the jaws slammed shut on its leg.
She straightened up in her chair, interlacing her fingers and flexing them till they popped, eliciting an electric arc between her wrists. "Showtime!"
Lara almost skidded off the top of the stairs with how fast she ran, but her feet found traction and she brought herself to a stop. Someone had closed the door behind them, and when Lara went to open it, she found it locked. No doubt the imposter wanted to hinder her and anyone else trying to get back inside. She cursed under her breath and backed up, twisting her feet to get solid grip on the stones.
"Sorry in advance, Ben!" she said out loud. She then sprinted at the door, throwing her shoulder against it. The force of her charge snapped the lock off in a shower of splinters, sending the door swinging violently in. Several nearby guests voiced their alarm at her sudden and destructive reentry into the ballroom, but Lara paid them no mind. She scanned through the room fast as she could, trying to pick Eric out among the crowd. Where was he? Why was it always hardest to find someone whenever she desperately needed to?
"Come on! Come on!" she uttered, her hands shaking nervously. "Where are you?"
There! She spotted him among the dancing couples, thankfully alive and unharmed. And with him was…Ariel!?
Lara blinked. Surely she was mistaken, but her eyes were not playing tricks. Ariel was dancing with Eric in the middle of the ballroom floor. But he could not be! She could not be! Ariel was running up behind her with Melody! That one had to be a fake, but she honestly could not tell her apart from the original. Her hair, her skin, her eyes, her build–everything was a perfect match. Even her smile as she looked into Eric's eyes was the same. Was this another skinner? No, that was not possible. Skinners stole the forms and skin of their victims. They did not duplicate them. This was something else, and it stunk of witchcraft and foul play.
Moments later Melody stumbled in behind Lara, panting from her rush up the stairs. "Did you find–!?" Her words caught as she spotted her father. "Mom!?"
Ariel followed a step behind Melody, clapping a hand to her mouth as she saw the fake for herself. "That's…how…!?
Lara glanced back at Ariel. Now that she thought about it, how did they know this Ariel was the real one? Maybe the real Ariel went back inside like the guard said, and this one was a fake trying to trick them. She needed a way to be sure, and she needed it fast. But how was she supposed to do that?
Then it struck her.
Lara spun to Ariel and grabbed her shoulders. "Ariel, look at me!"
Ariel looked shocked by Lara's hold on her. Her grip was tight to the point of being painful. "Ow! Lara, what are you–!?"
"What did I say on the beach!?" interrupted Lara.
Ariel blinked rapidly. "Wh-what?"
"The beach! After you pulled me out of the ocean in that storm! What did I say!?"
Ariel stared slack-jawed at Lara for a moment. Then it clicked with her. Lara was trying to confirm if she was really Ariel. With two of them present she needed to identify the fake before she went and did something to the wrong one. That meant she needed something only the two of them would know about. Something no one else had seen or heard. Something important and exclusive to the two of them.
"We're not dying here!" said Ariel.
Lara looked at her for two long seconds. Ariel was starting to worry she said the wrong thing when Lara gave one of her lopsided grins. "You're the real one!"
She released Ariel and spun on her heels to dash into the crowd. She threw off her robes as she ran, revealing the red bandage breast wrap and ragged black shorts she had been wearing underneath, her knives strapped to the sides of her thighs. Her boots clapped loudly against the floor as she shoved guests aside, making her way into the center of the room.
The song ended as Eric spun Ariel with one hand before pulling her to him, her hand coming to rest lightly in his.
"Eric, are you all right?" said Ariel, looking into his eyes. "You've barely said a word. Is something troubling you?"
Eric was certain something was off, but he still could not figure out what it was. That dance with Ariel had been flawless, but it had also been lifeless. Mechanical, even. It was like dancing with a shadow, following his movements like a marionette following the lead of the puppeteer. There was no spirit in her dancing, no will of her own. And now that he thought of it…
"Ariel, your hands are like ice," he said, taking one of her hands between both of his. Sure enough, her entire hand was cool to the touch, as though she had submerged it in river water and then dried off. Ariel had always been more susceptible to temperature because of her mermaid origins, but even then she should not have felt this cold to the touch. Not on a balmy spring night like this.
"Eric!"
His name was said with such intensity that Eric and every other person in the room flinched. He turned around to see Lara hurtling towards him at a full run, her formal outfit discarded and a look of anger and panic on her face. Before Eric could say a word, Lara seized Ariel's wrist, wrenching the queen away from him as she shoved the king back. He stumbled into a group of people who quickly caught him.
"Get your hands off him!" Lara shouted, drawing her other hand across in a tight fist.
Eric's eyes widened. "Lara, what–!?"
WHAM!Lara struck the back of her fist into the side of Ariel's jaw, twisting her head to the side. Then Lara drew the same fist back and punched straight into the side of Ariel's face. There was a hard, loud smack and then a stunning silence as Ariel went reeling backwards, her tiara flying off from the force of the blow. She hit the red carpet and rolled away through the parting crowd, coming to rest motionless at the base of the throne dais. The crowd recoiled from Lara, horrified by her assault on a most beloved monarch.
"What have you done?!" bellowed Eric, furious and stupefied by Lara's actions. "Have you lost your mind!?
"Eric!"
Eric spun around. From the archway to the ballroom came Melody and…
"Ariel!?" Eric looked back to where Ariel lay, and then to her again as she ran over with his daughter. Two Ariels. There were two Ariels before him!
"YEEEOOOWWW!"
The sound Lara made was like a wounded animal with something gnawing on its leg. She dropped to one knee, clutching the hand she belted Ariel with. The knuckles were bleeding and raw. It throbbed with pain from fingertip to wrist, her bones aching from the intensity she struck with.
Melody was quickly at Lara's side. "What happened!?"
"My hand! Son of a…fuuuaaaah!" Lara grit her teeth, breathing sharply against the pain radiating through her hand and the colorful words waiting on the tip of her tongue. "What the…I've hit rocks softer than that!"
"Is your hand broken?"
"No, just…that really hurt!" Lara gave her hand a sharp shake, flexing her fingers to check them as she stood. Already the skin over her knuckles was knitting itself back together. The pain was still there, but her fingers and wrist moved freely.
Melody looked to where her "mother" lay motionless. "But…if she's not mom, then who is she!?"
Lara pulled the decorative comb from her hair. It burst into white flames for a moment as it transformed back into her goggles. "More like what is she! That's not a human!" She looped the goggles back onto her head and then raised a hand in the air. "Claymore!"
Tempest was nibbling on his oats beside the two geldings pulling Seahaven's royal carriage. He snorted, disgusted at the idea of ever pulling such a contraption much less enjoying it as those two did. Far be it from him to ever tow like a common mule. He left that to the other horses of the royal stables. However, he was not above carrying Lara, or Ariel or Melody if he was sufficiently bribed with apples. Just so long as they did not make him wear that accursed saddlery or bridle. Such things had no place on a stallion of his majesty and caliber.
His ears perked when he heard a clatter of vibrating steel and wood from the carriage. He looked up from his food to see the carriage shaking, as though it were experiencing its own private earthquake.
"Hey, what's going on?" asked one of the footmen as he hastily disembarked the rocking carriage, backing away as it jolted again.
"Don't ask me!" said his partner.
A dark shroud leapt inside the carriage, striking the roof. It recoiled back and then leapt against the door, causing the entire carriage to heave onto one side. The white horses neighed and stamped their feet, spooked by the racket behind them.
The footmen's faces paled visibly. "GH-GH-GHOST!"
Tempest rolled his eyes. He trotted over to the carriage, pulled a leg back, and gave the door a swift cow kick to open the latch. The black shroud leapt at the door again, forcing it open as it flew out. The footmen promptly fainted, their eyes rolling up in their heads as they fell flat on their backs. The shroud fell away, a flash of red flying up into the night sky towards Glowerhaven castle.
Tempest walked over to the shadowsilk cloak and picked it up with his teeth, throwing it back inside the carriage. For being able to tame all manner of animals, humans sure did spook easily.
The guests cleared a wide berth around the Seahaven visitors and the princess's bizarrely dressed guardian. Lara was still nursing her hand, Melody standing beside her worriedly as Eric held Ariel close. The room was abuzz over Lara's sudden and violent attack on the queen of Seahaven–the other queen of Seahaven, that is.
"Make way! Make way! Please stand aside!" boomed Ben's voice above the crowd, quickly working his way through them with guards following close behind. "Eric! What is the meaning of this!? What's going on!?"
"That's what I'd like to know!" answered Eric. "Ariel, what is happening? Why are there two of you!?"
"I don't know!" exclaimed Ariel, clutching tight to Eric. "I found Lara and Melody in the gardens, but then–!"
Ben's eyes widened as he noticed the queen. "Ariel!? But you're over…!" He looked to the motionless figure by his throne, and then back to her. "What is this!? There are two of you!? What is this sorcery?!"
"Just that, Uncle Ben!" said Melody. "This has to be Morgana's doing! No one else could–!"
"Melody, behind you!" Ariel suddenly shouted.
A bout of screams and alarmed shouts caused Melody to spin around. The sound of feet running over marble accompanied the other Ariel running straight towards them. Melody gasped, clutching her hands to her mouth as Lara put a protective arm in front of her.
Any lingering doubt this Ariel was a fake was gone. The right half of the doppelgänger's face was missing. But there was no blood or flesh in the absence of skin, or the ghastly pale visage and black eyes of a skinner lying underneath. It was a skeletal face of dark gray steel. Magic runes were etched into the surface, aglow with the same poisonous green light that emanated from the opaque crystal in the socket of its single revealed eye. Its teeth were razor sharp and interlocking, gleaming with a menacing polished brilliance. The other half of its face was eerily impassive given the vigor it advanced on them with.
Then the sleeve and skin of the imposter's right arm split apart, falling away like shredded paper. A dark gray skeletal limb took its place. Its metal hand folded back flat against its forearm as a long sharp blade came forth from its wrist like a spring-loaded dagger, locking into place with a sharp snap.
"Get back!" Lara shouted, shoving Melody towards her father as the enemy charged. Suddenly there was a tinkling of shattered glass as Lara's sword came hurtling through one of the windows for her. Lara deftly snatched it by the scabbard and drew the sword as the imposter pulled its bladed arm back. Their blades met with a resounding song of clashing metal, filling the ballroom with the noise.
However, Lara was unprepared for the force the imposter struck with, expecting to confront human strength rather than whatever this enemy was. The strike sent her staggering back, fighting for balance as her sword arm vibrated. The assassin closed in and slashed down at her again, but Lara blocked once more, this time standing firm and taking her sword in both hands as they locked blades. Her boots slid over the floor as she found herself using more and more strength to hold back the would-be assassin.
"Get out!" she barked, struggling to keep her ground as she fought to slow the attacker's advance. "Everyone outta here now! Go!"
She hardly needed to say anything. The guests were already vacating the ballroom with haste, screaming and shouting as they fled. They were leaving through any exit they could find, flooding the stairs and even out into the gardens as they looked for an escape.
"I recommend doing as she says, Ben!" advised Eric, quickly putting Ariel and Melody behind him. "The only thing soldiers would do is get in her way!"
"If she's as strong as you've said, then I agree! Guards! Remove everyone from here at once, and then seal the room!" bellowed Ben, not turning his back to Lara and the fraud. "Sound the alarm and rouse the garrison! I want men at every exit! I'll not have this villain escape!"
Eric grabbed Ariel and Melody's wrists, pulling them towards the stairs. "We need to leave! Come on!"
Melody could not move. She was frozen in place, her eyes fixed on the enemy's split face. One half was a metal nightmare, but the other half was her mother's. The same mother who tucked her in as a child, who sang to her when she could not sleep, who loved Melody as only a mother could. It was that face that was now trying to kill them. It was like her birthday party and the skinner rolled into one–an enemy hiding in plain sight, just waiting for the chance to carry out the dark orders of Morgana and Ursula. She wanted to run, but the only thing her legs could do was tremble.
"What're you doing, Mel!?" shouted Lara, glancing over her shoulder as she struggled with the fake. "Get outta here!"
The fake Ariel suddenly swung its right leg in a round kick to Lara's side, smashing its shin against her ribcage. The blow sent her rolling away with alarming ease. Lara quickly twisted over onto her stomach, her bare skin gripping against the marble to stop her. She started to rise but then dropped to one knee as a stabbing pain erupted in her chest. She inhaled sharply as she clutched her side, her every breath magnifying the agony. Two of her ribs were broken. And with just one kick! This thing was strong!
The fake looked at Lara, and then back to the scared-stiff princess being pulled away by her parents as they ran after Ben. A row of guards stood between the imposter and the royals, square shields ready and spears extended as they covered their king's retreat. The imposter extended its left arm at them, and there was more ripping as the forearm expanded. Its skin became twisted and then was shredded away from the shoulder down. Gray rune-inscribed steel appeared, several small barrels forming its forearm with a flexible flat pipe leading down to them from the left chest wall under the armpit. The metal hand collapsed and disappeared between the barrels as they started rotating, rapidly gaining speed.
Lara's breath hitched in her throat. She only encountered them three times in the east, and this one was considerably smaller than all of them. But there was no mistaking the sounds or motions of a crank gun preparing to fire. They lacked the accuracy or range of a rifle, and the dexterity or stealth of a pistol. But what a crank gun lacked in those it made up for a hundred times over with sheer firepower. A trio of them could send a battalion's worth of bullets downrange in a matter of seconds. Nor could Lara forget their effect on anything unfortunate enough to be downrange of the operator. At the rate this one was spinning, the only thing she could compare it to was a meat grinder.
She acted quickly, dashing in against the agony from her ribs and seizing the upper half of the imposter's arm, shoving it towards the ceiling just as a literal torrent of bullets was unleashed. The ballroom was filled with a deafening buzzing sound as multiple rounds were propelled through the barrels each second, the gunshots roaring faster than the human ear could distinguish. People screamed as pieces of plaster, wood, and stone came raining down on them. A chandelier was caught in the line of fire, the bullets chewing it to pieces in a matter of seconds before its chain snapped. The chandelier came crashing down to the ballroom floor, collapsing into a mangled pile of metal and broken crystal.
The sounds of gunfire snapped Melody out of her petrified state, becoming aware of her guardian and friend locked in battle with the would-be killer. "Lara!"
The imposter pressed against Lara even harder, forcing her back. The gun continued to roar as the fake pulled its sword arm back and swung at Lara. She flipped the grip on her sword and blocked the incoming blade. The impact alone made her arm ache, even more so when it swung again, the edge managing to cut across the inside of Lara's forearm. The next time it swung Lara deflected the sword up into the imposter's gun arm. It quickly stopped firing lest the blade become entangled in the spinning barrels. Lara quickly drew her sword back and chopped down on the enemy's own sword, forcing its gun down to the floor. She thought she had it tangled up, but suddenly the imposter retracted the sword into its arm. It drew its arm back and then punched, sending the sword springing forth for her middle. Lara quickly maneuvered her own sword to redirect the blade upwards as she arched backwards. She saw sparks as the blades scraped against each other, the breeze tickling the end of her nose as the sharp point passed over her face.
The imposter swung its gun around, pointing it at Lara's head. Her knee shot up, knocking the dangerous end towards the ceiling as her hand reached to her leg and pulled one of her knives. She flipped it over and jammed it between the barrels as they began rotating. There was an awful grinding noise as the rotation was brought to a halt. The imposter swung its sword back at her, forcing Lara to parry it aside as she threw a spinning back kick into its chest. The imposter braced its body just before she struck, preventing Lara's kick from sending it flying. It skidded back a few feet as Lara stumbled away, a jolt of pain shooting clear from her heel to her hip.
Lara quickly spun to face the enemy, raising her sword overhead and then slashing in the fake's direction. "Claymore, blast!"
There was a thunderous boom akin to a cannon firing as a concussive blast of air was unleashed from the sword's tip. It hit the fake Ariel head on, sending it sailing across the ballroom and into the wall behind the throne. Lara's knife was knocked loose of the gun, flying off to imbed in the wall. The fake's sword became entangled in the banner on the wall as it came crashing down on top of the throne. The throne collapsed under the fake's weight, crushed into a pile of wood fragments and splinters as the banner came down on top of it and the imposter.
Lara took her sword in both hands and raised it overhead. The flame of every candle, lantern, pipe or other burning implement burst to full vigor before flying to Lara's sword, wrapping around the blade then melding with it. The metal turned orange hot, causing the air around it to shimmer and wave as its radiance lit the room like a fire. The pendant around her neck started to glow with a light of its own. Even in the chaos of trying to flee, more than a few of the frightened guests paused to awe at the magic.
Ben's jaw hung open as he saw the last of the fire join with Lara's sword. "By the saints! She's a witch!?"
"Sorceress!" said Melody, Ariel, and Eric together.
Lara slid a foot back, preparing to strike. "Now…!"
The fake Ariel rose underneath the fallen banner, the gleam of its unnatural eye visible through the fabric.
Lara stepped forward and thrust her sword at the trapped fake. "Burn!"
A spout of flame leapt from the sword, dousing the Ariel-imposter in fire. The blaze swirled and swarmed around it, reducing its form to a dark figure shrinking amidst a storm of flames. The heat was intense, warming the entire room in a matter of seconds. Lara's shadow was cast long and large behind her. She swung her rapidly cooling sword to the side, letting off a heavy breath. She whistled, her knife flying off the wall and into her hand.
"Nice try, Morgana," said Lara as she sheathed her knife. "But there's no way your assassin will survive…that…oh, crap."
Lara reached for her knife again. The figure was not disappearing. In that fire it should have been turning to ash, but it remained standing. The green light filled both its eyes as the figure started walking towards her. A twisting uncertainty was building in Lara's gut, and she did not like it one bit. Something was off. Those flames were hot enough to turn a tree to ashes in seconds. Yet whatever this assassin was, it was not only staying upright but still moving. She had a very bad feeling about this.
"Davoro!" Lara called out. The flames encircling the assassin suddenly rushed back to Lara, spiraling into a single thread of flame that she rapidly and greedily devoured. The piercings on her face changed from gold to black. Her tattoos began to glow as the wounds on her arm closed shut. The pain in her ribs quickly abated as the bones healed. She could feel the fire's energy and warmth filling her, and she kept going until ever last flame on her opponent was consumed.
The thing that emerged from the dwindling flames bore no resemblance to Ariel. It was neither human nor skinner. It was not even a living thing. It was a skeletal metal humanoid without flesh or blood. Its hands and feet were tipped with sharp digits. Its chest was a ribcage of solid steel bars that extended clear to its hips, protecting a glowing green crystalline core that pulsated like a heartbeat. Its joints were hinges covered by thick armor plating. Sharpened copper spikes were housed within its thighs, and thousands of brass bullet casings filled its chest cavity. More arcane etchings covered its form, pulsating with the same green light as its infernal heart. Its eyes shone with that light as well–terrible, empty green stars trapped in crystals seated in the dark sockets of a metal skull. Its motions created mechanical sounds as it approached, feet scratching deeply into the stone floor.
Lara's eyes widened. "That's a–!"
Melody's trembling started again as she gripped tightly to her parent's clothes. "Lara, what is that!?"
"An automaton!" Lara shouted loudly. "It's a machine!"
The automaton suddenly leaned forward and screamed, releasing a shrill metallic cry from its mouth like the point of a knife dragged over glass. Everyone covered their ears at the painful sound. Then the automaton leapt at Lara, pulling its sword back and then swinging down at her. She dodged aside as the automaton landed, its blade coming down in a strike that would have cleaved her in half. Lara expected it to smash its blade into the floor, but it stopped a hair's breadth from impact and suddenly swung the sword back at her. The move caught her by surprise, and she barely guarded with her own blade in time. The hit sent her staggering back. The automaton did not let up, closing in and swinging a leg around for another kick. Lara moved to guard her ribs, but the automaton suddenly changed its aim and slammed the instep of its foot into the side of her knee. Lara gave a startled and pained yelp as the ligaments in her knee screamed. She quickly parried another sword strike aside and drove her fist into the automaton's chest as hard as she could. She struck true, but she barely made the thing flinch back whereas she split open her knuckles once more. The automaton grabbed her shoulder with its free hand and then pulled her in, driving its forehead into her own. Lara reeled backwards, seeing stars and flashes of color as blood rolled down her face. The automaton then swung its leg up, smacking the plated shin into her like a bat once and then twice. Even tensing her abdomen as hard as she could to protect her insides, each kick drove the wind out of her. She vaguely registered the automaton stabbing at her face again and jerked her head aside, the tip of the sword grazing across her cheek and ear.
Lara knew she needed to put distance between her and the automaton, and she needed to do it fast. She was getting pummeled at close range. She swung her sword back into its middle. "Claymore, blast!"
There was another concussive boom as the automaton was thrown away from Lara, flipping through the air. It somehow managed to right itself and landed on its feet, sharpened toes digging into the floor to stop its slide. It stood up, eyes fixed on Lara as it screamed again.
Lara touched a hand to her forehead, looking at the blood staining her fingertips and then back to her foe. Her middle was literally throbbing with pain, and the pain in her knee was subsiding slower than she wanted. She was forcing her diaphragm to keep moving despite its protests. She could not afford to cramp up from getting the wind knocked out of her. Not with this enemy. This was no moving hunk of metal.
This thing knew how to fight.
Remora laughed uncontrollably, kicking her feet about in the air like a child being mercilessly tickled. Watching her creation kick the stuffing out of Lara was the most entertainment she had in a long while. She wished she had a way to replay the action. She would have set those two kicks on a loop.
She laughed even harder as she watched Lara dart for a nearby column as the automaton let loose a burst of bullets. The automaton stopped quickly, only to resume when Lara poked her head out a moment later. She quickly rolled for an adjacent column, barely missing a new swarm of bullets.
"How do you like my clockman, brat?" she cackled. "I built this one specially for you! Metal bones and sharp bits for up close and personal, and bullets galore to handle the masses and any spineless weaklings that try to run! All made of the hardest alloys the Factory's ever produced! And I even wrapped it in a pretty skin thanks to that skinner's trick for flaying people alive! You should have heard this one scream! And if you think one clockman's hard to fight, wait till I really start cranking them out!"
Remora laughed again as Lara almost took a bullet to the head trying to get a look at the automaton, interlacing her fingers behind her head as she watched. "I love this job!"
Lara grit her teeth as more bullets hammered at her hiding spot, sending stone chips flying everywhere. Thank goodness most of the guests were gone by now, but Melody and the others were still stuck in the ballroom with her and this thing. At least it seemed focused on just killing her for the time being.
A bullet ricocheted off the side of the column, making Lara flinch at the high-pitched sound of metal bouncing off stone. She looked down at her leg, noticing a pair of healing tracts where bullets had grazed her. She thought this was like the automatons she squared off with in the east, but this thing was in a league of its own. The automatons she dealt with before were little more than crude magic-driven puppets remotely operated by mages. The magic needed to make them move much less fight was extremely complex and required such immense power it often necessitated two mages–one for the battery, and one for the moving. This made them no less cumbersome or stronger than the average soldier and required the mages to be relatively close by. Their only real advantage was their metal toughness, but even that could be overcome with the right weapon or a well-placed trap. Even a basic pitfall could trip up one of those constructs. She could handle those with her hands behind her back and one eye closed. A single blast from the claymore was often enough to turn them into scrap.
This one was different. It moved with a precision and speed that rivaled an experienced soldier. There was no lag in its operator's response to her attack and defense. It moved with the purpose and dexterity of a seasoned warrior. It took two of the claymore's blasts, one of which was at point blank range, and it was still going strong, not to mention it survived being smothered in fire. This was more like fighting a metal skinner than some bumbling iron zombie.
The bullets stopped, the sound of the crank gun winding down overshadowed by the sound of metal feet running at Lara's spot. She stepped out from behind the column just as the automaton reached her, sword slashing upwards for her face. Lara met the sword strike with one of her own, blocking the blade as the gun was swung into her face. Lara ducked underneath it as the bullets started firing, a few lone pops that quickly gained speed as the rounds blew out one of the windows. She drew one of her knives and jammed it up into the crank gun, bringing the spinning barrels to a halt. The automaton swung its sword back at Lara but she blocked it again. The two were now locked blade on blade, fighting to force the other backwards.
"Kill…"
Lara's eyes widened. Did the automaton just speak?
"Kill…"
The automaton suddenly let loose a shrieking cry and then charged into Lara like a mad ram. She was caught off guard by the burst of speed and strength the machine moved with. It knocked her to the floor, already on top of her before she could roll out of the way. She braced her heels against its hips, keeping it from advancing on her any more.
"Kill…" repeated the machine as it bore down on her. "Kill…"
Lara grit her teeth, struggling to keep the automaton's sword from straying any closer to her neck. This thing was so strong! Stronger than that skinner ever was! Maybe even as strong as her!
"Kill…me…"
Lara's breath hitched in her throat.
"Kill…me," croaked the automaton. "Kill…pain..."
"What?" grunted Lara. "What…are you saying?"
The light in the automaton's eyes flickered. "End…pain…end…me…"
Lara shoved the automaton away then pulled both legs in and drove her heels up into the automaton's chest. It went arcing up and away, landing splayed on the ground. Lara leapt to her feet, sword at the ready as the automaton slowly stood. The lights in its eyes were flickering fast now, as though trying to send out a coded message.
"End…me…" it croaked, slowly approaching her. "Set…free…"
A horrible epiphany struck Lara. This automaton was no puppet. Its fighting skill, its responsiveness, its ability to decide and act–they were so life-like because it had no operator. No one was feeding step-by-step commands to it. It was acting under its own power and will. For all intents and purposes, this thing was a manufactured life form. But there was only one way that could be done.
Someone stuck a soul into it.
Lara did not want to believe it, but it was the only thing that made sense. How else could this machine fight her evenly? Souls had the energy to provide life to a body and all its complexities for decades. An automaton was a comparatively easy thing for a soul to animate. But a soul was an impossibly unique and individual thing. It would only ever be home within the body it originally accompanied. To put a soul into a new vessel was akin to taking all the grains of sand in the Devil's Steppe, sending a giant sandstorm across it, and then putting each individual grain back exactly as it was before. A soul would reject any body that was not its own, either immediately or inevitably. The only way to prevent this would be to strip the soul of every single thing that made up the being of the one it originally belonged to. Everything that individual had been –their memories, their hopes, their dreams, their fears, their loves, their will–would have to be broken down and torn away until nothing was left. In short, it required destroying the very essence of a being.
Nausea rose in Lara, and she covered her mouth as she gagged. She felt bile burning her throat like her anger at whoever created this contraption. This was barbarism at its darkest, most heinous level. This thing's very existence was a crime against humanity and magic itself. It was the definition of taboo, something that could unify even the most quarrelsome mages under a common purpose. Mages that performed this were not put to death, for that would be too easy and brief a punishment for such a heinous act. Even in the east, home to some of the foulest warlocks and witches, there were few who dared to attempt this.
"Please," begged the automaton as it raised its sword. "End…me..."
Lara clenched her sword tightly. Her duty was no longer just to keep this thing away from Melody and everyone else. She had a moral obligation as a mage–no, as a living being–to destroy it as quickly as possible. She had to set that soul free.
Remora smiled beneath her mask as she watched the clockman lock blades with Lara again. "Looks like your son wasn't useless after all, Manta. He's performing better than I expected. He was even good enough to fool that human-wannabe's man. Typical male, that one. Flash a pretty set of eyes at them and they wouldn't notice if you put a spike in their back."
She stood up and drew back the sleeves of her robe, exposing arms littered with scars. Except instead of pale raised skin, the scars were indents filled with gold. Her metal mirror crumbled into shards that crawled up her arms, forming a cladding of shrapnel.
"Much as I'd love to play, brat, I've got places to go," she said as the last of the mirror returned to her. She headed towards the door. "Like your execution."
"You are going nowhere, witch!"
The room was filled with a momentary flare of burning light as Remora turned around. The first thing she saw was the four glowing orange and red eyes. Then a pair of claws seized her neck amidst a rustle of wings, lifting her off the ground. She grabbed the stick-like arms, only to release it as the searing heat scorched her palms. She was thrown clear across the room, banging into the far wall before the claws took hold of her throat again and smacked her against one wall and then the other.
The initial shock now gone, Remora took full stock of her attacker. It was an enormous raven the size of a human, every inch covered in black feathers traced with lines of orange light. The inside of his beak glowing with heat that matched the color of his four eyes. He beat his wings as he hovered in the air, the gusts knocking over books, lamps, chairs, and anything not secured.
"Your sacrilege has gone too far!" growled the raven. "You die, here and now!"
The raven flew at Remora, clawed feet reaching for her neck. She blocked his feet with an arm. Remora felt him starting to fry her skin as destructive magic began seeping into her body, burning its way towards her heart.
Light flashed in her eyes. "Piss off, freak!"
She let out a yell as electricity enveloped her. There was a flash and then it blasted outwards in a shockwave. The giant raven was flung from her. The entire room shook as searing forks of lightning raked the walls, floor, and ceiling. The bed and desk were diced to burning pieces by the magic.
The raven struck the far wall and fell to the floor, hissing like a snake and then lunging back at Remora. She threw a fist at him, sending an electrical beam shooting for his head as her scythe began forming in her other hand. The raven narrowly slipped past it, sacrificing a wing as the beam blasted through it. He reached Remora and jabbed at her neck with his burning beak. Remora swung her scythe, deflecting his beak upwards and away from her neck. One of his feet, however, slipped by and found purchase on her mask and ripped it free of her face. Remora let out a screech, whipping away as she swung her scythe into the raven's side. It cleaved through his middle like an iron bar through the scorched remains of a tree, sending sparks and cinders flying about. The raven's lower half fell to the ground as his legs and tail crumbled to dust.
The raven backed up clumsily with his remaining wing, beak clenched tight as smoke issued from his form. He glared at Remora, the witch hunched over and grunting with pain from her scalded skin.
"You!" she spat, turning to face the raven, face shadowed against the light from his eyes. "You're that blasted sorcerer that's hounded us!"
"Shadow won't conceal you from me!" shouted the raven, raising his wing high. An orb of firelight appeared at the wingtip, chasing out the darkness of the room. He flung the orb at Remora's arm, but she swung her scythe to cut it down.
It was a feint. The raven spat another orb from his maw, the fireball slipping past and striking Remora's arm. Her hand was wrenched from her face, revealing it in full to the raven.
The raven was not one to be prone to shock or surprise. However, in that brief flash where he saw Remora's true visage, he found himself in one of those rare moments. "You!?"
Remora's face twisted in a bestial snarl. "Bastard!"
The raven stared as Remora called her mask back to her, threads of electricity reaching out and pulling it to her face. "How are you sti–!?"
Remora ended the raven with a slash of her scythe up his middle, sending him scattering over the floor like the tossed remains of a dead fire. They glowed for a few flickering moments and then went dark before disintegrating into nothing. She cricked her neck, rubbing the blisters where the raven grabbed her. "Don't know how you knew me, freak! But if you did, then you'd know what happens to anyone who gets in my way!"
She dropped her scythe, the weapon shattering on the floor as the shards swarmed back to her. She had no doubt that thing was the sorcerer's doing. Not him in person, but an avatar of his making. A weak avatar too if that was all it took to destroy the thing. It was little more than a hollow shell of carbon and heat. It caught her by surprise, but without that it was hardly a threat.
She pulled back the sleeve on her left arm, revealing metal shards assembling into a bracer. The shards fit together into seamless metal, and then flickering runes of emerald and then golden magic appeared on it. Remora turned to the door, her left eye filling with a golden yellow light as another enchanted bracer appeared on her other arm.
"Command: kill that brat!"
Down in the ballroom, the flickering left the automaton's eyes as a spark flashed over its glowing green heart. Suddenly the green turned to a golden yellow. The automaton let out a shriek and leapt at Lara, drawing its sword up for a slash. Lara darted back as it landed and struck, its sword smashing into the floor hard enough to crack through the stone. It chased after her, thrusting for her head. Lara parried it away, only to have the automaton kick at her. She raised her leg and arm in time to block when it collided with her. She thought she braced hard enough, but instead it sent her rolling across the room.
Did it just get stronger?
She twisted herself into a slide and skidded around to face the automaton. It was right in front of her. The automaton had chased after her and closed the distance while she was sliding. She was staring down the barrels of its crank gun as it started reaching maximum rotation.
It got faster, too.
Lara flipped herself back just as the first bullet fired, the burst of flying hot metal grazing the inside of her leg and across her shoulder before ricocheting up into the wall. She pulled her leg in and then shot it straight up into the automaton's chin as she used her arm to push away from the floor. The automaton staggered back, but not before it sliced its sword into Lara's leg, drawing a deep cut along her calf. Lara gave a pained shout and snapped her leg back, drawing air into her lungs.
"Tempes-ta!" she shouted, firing the air cannon straight into the automaton. It went reeling back, driven across the ballroom as its feet dug deep screeching marks into the marble.
"Lara!" Melody shouted from the bottom of the stairs. "Are you okay!?"
Lara hopped to her feet, only to stumble as the sharp pain in her leg informed her how deep the automaton's cut reached. It was healing, but this was not a wound she could shrug off so easily. She was going to effectively be down a leg for the next thirty seconds. That was an eternity in a fight like this
"I'm fine!" she lied as she watched the automaton start to rise. "Just get out of here! I can't worry about you and fight this thing at the same time!"
"But what about you!? You're hurt!"
"Mel, what's rule number one!?" shouted Lara.
Melody paused for a moment as her panicked mind tried to recall what Lara was talking about. Then she remembered. It was almost six months ago when she and Lara lay down the "rules" Melody would follow if she ever found herself in trouble, but now they came rushing back to her clear as day.
"Run as fast as you can!" replied Melody
"Rule number two?" asked Lara.
"If you can't run, hide!"
"Rule number three?"
"If you can't hide, fight for your life!"
Lara glanced out the corner of her eye to Melody, seeing her and Ariel and Eric now making their way up the stairs with the rest of the crowd. "And rule number four?"
Melody raised her hand high overhead, giving a thumbs up to Lara. "Stay alive!"
Lara grinned, letting one hand off the sword so she could return a thumbs up to Melody. "I'll come outta this alive, I promise you! Now run!"
With that Melody turned away, following after her parents. Lara grit her teeth as she saw the automaton point its gun at her, the barrels starting to spin. She put some weight on her leg, but it still hurt bad enough to make her flinch.
It was going to be a long thirty seconds.
The Master walked out of the inn, the door sliding closed behind him. He adjusted the hood of his robes, further hiding his face from the rain as he stepped out into the storm. It was the dead of night now, the stars hidden behind a thick blanket of storm clouds. If anything, the rain made it darker, as though the water were washing the light away with each drop. The air was cold, the moaning wind angling the rain to reach every dry inch of earth.
Nothing and no one would sleep well on a night like this, but the Master barely noticed the rain or chill. Gin put him in a good mood. A very good mood. Even with the sack of gold Gin was initially hesitant to divulge his full knowledge of Lara Anclagon. After the first drink he began to loosen up. After the second the information flowed as freely from his lips as the wine from that bottle and the two that followed. He drowned his anger and sorrows in the wine as he gave the Master what he wanted and more. No doubt he could have kept going had the Master not excused himself. He needed nothing more from the man.
The riddle that was Lara Anclagon was finally solved. He now had a very clear picture of who Lara Anclagon was before she came to Seahaven, and how and why she left to begin with. There were still gaps regarding the source of her power. But with the new information Gin furnished him with, he knew exactly how she fit into his deadly game. He knew the rules she could move according to, and with that he could begin to control her. It would not be long before he had her moving to his wishes.
He was about to step onto the road but stopped. He found what he came looking for, but his work was not done. There was a loose end to tie up before he bid this land adieu.
The Master snapped his fingers. There was rumble as the entire inn trembled, as though the cold night had caused it to shiver. The lights inside flickered and then went out. A man's cry of alarm sounded briefly and then was cut short. The building started to creak and groan as the shaking intensified. A breeze pulled towards the house, and then it swelled to a wind as the ripping and twisting sounds of breaking wood filled the night. The inn buckled in on itself, broken remains pulled inside by an unseen force. The roof collapsed down as the veranda curled in like dying leaves. Suddenly the inn fell all at once, its torn remains swirling and spiraling into a dark globe hovering where the bar once stood. The darkness continued to devour the building till nothing was left. Then the globe collapsed on itself and disappeared, leaving no sign of the inn save the bare earth where it once stood.
The Master grinned broadly, mouth glowing as menacingly as his eyes. "As you said, human, nothing is free in the east. My time is no exception. And my price is high."
The Master gave a short laugh and then looked to the west. The journey back to the Alliance would not be instantaneous, but neither would it be prolonged. He lay the foundations for his return as he journeyed towards the rising sun. The return trip would be brief by comparison, though there was no need for haste. Once back in his stronghold he would implement this newest information immediately. His plans for Seahaven and Lara Anclagon had shifted–and what plans they were!
What was it Ursula once said? Ah yes, he remembered now. It was time he took matters into his own hands, seeing as he had no tentacles. He would make Lara writhe. He would see her wriggle like a worm on a hook.
He extended his hand out, causing a ripple of black to appear in the air. It spiraled and grew to form a portal into darkness even blacker than the night. He walked in, the gateway closing on itself as he crossed the boundary, and then it vanished.
Tip and Dash were oblivious to the turmoil unfolding in Glowerhaven at that moment, or the movements of the dark sorcerer. They were embroiled with their own situation at the moment–though, "situation" was a tad dramatic compared to reality.
They sat atop a stone arch at the outskirts of a kelp forest on the southern edge of Atlantica. Their mental state could only be described as bored out of their minds as they kept watch over the darkening sea. In the distance behind them the lights of Atlantica were glowing bright, the palace standing tall and shining as the ocean turned dim and slumberous. A glowshell sat between them, providing a small amount of light to shield them from the coming gloom.
Dash gave a wide and loud yawn then turned to his partner. "Maybe we got the spot wrong?"
"He said wait at the stone arch by the kelp forest to the south," said Tip, not looking away from the pebble he was bouncing between his flippers for amusement. "I don't know any other spots like that. You?"
Dash shook his head. "Nope."
A few seconds of quiet passed before Dash spoke again. "Maybe we got the time wrong?"
"He contacted us today," said Tip. "He said to be here before sunset today. I don't think he could get any clearer than that."
"Yeah, I guess you're right." Dash flipped his tail about absentmindedly. "Any idea why we're–?"
"Nope," interrupted Tip. "No surprise there, eh? He never tells us why we do anything."
"He did say it's safer that way," said Dash.
"For who? Us? Or him?" Tip flung the pebble high in the water and then smacked it hard with the back of his flipper, sending it shooting out over the rocky reefs. The pebble flew a fair distance and then sunk, disappearing into the rocks and coral.
The two did not speak for a long time after that. They waited in silence as the ocean continued to darken with night. Idle chit-chat felt inappropriate for this atmosphere, and neither was in the mood for it. They never were when carrying out these tasks for the raven. They kept watching in silence, waiting for something to happen that could tell them why they were here.
The raven kept Tip and Dash busy since they placed the feather at Queen Athena and King Triton's statues. Not a week went by without him contacting them out of the blue. It was always without warning, his voice coming straight into their minds. They served as his literal eyes and ears under the sea, allowing the raven to view the world of the merfolk through them. They could never anticipate what the job would be. Sometimes he had them cruise the Atlantican streets, using them to listen in on the conversations of normal merfolk. Sometimes he had them place more feathers within and outside the kingdom. There was no pattern to where the feathers were placed. It could be outside a merfolk's home, on an inconspicuous rock, or well beyond Atlantica's borders, requiring them to navigate the unknown wilds according to the raven's guidance. Strangely and fortunately, they never encountered sharks or any other manner of predatory sea dweller during their excursions. The raven never explained the reasoning behind their tasks. And while he collected what information he could from them, they gleaned little in return. They could no more get him to reveal anything about himself than they could drink the ocean dry. He was tight lipped as an oyster.
Tip still had his doubts about the raven's intentions and identity. Truth be told, the main reason he and Dash were helping the bird was guilt. It was a form of self-imposed penance for their cowardly actions at Melody's party. But the raven was too cryptic, too ominous for someone as cautious as Tip to trust or believe completely. After all, what did they really have to go on for his identity? An old story Dash knew about a demon and a long-gone human kingdom in the north, passed on through the walrus herds of the Northern Sea for generations. That story was enough to convince Dash, but not Tip. There were no such stories passed down among the penguin flocks in the icy Southern Sea. Penguins were not predisposed to such things. It was a legend too fantastic even by fairy tale standards. The idea that there was any truth to it was even more absurd. Tip had seen a fair amount of the extraordinary and miraculous from his time spent in Atlantica and with Melody, but this was stretching his limits of belief. There was no way this raven could be an avatar for the one he claimed to be.
And yet, Tip could not shake the feeling it was alltrue. Just being in the raven's presence touched at something deep within him, something he had not even realized was there. It was a primeval sense of awe and fear so innate and old it was ingrained into his very being. Not towards the bird himself, his power, or even the demonic form he had manifested. It was for the one behind those avatars. It would not matter how many assurances the raven gave, or how vehemently he worked to oppose Morgana and all those seeking to harm Melody and the Alliance, or what form he took before them. Even if he appeared as a tiny sand flea, there would always be a part of Tip that was afraid of him. As uncertain as he still was about the raven's identity, Tip knew one thing to be absolutely certain: he did not want to be his enemy.
Suddenly Dash straightened up, pointing a flipper straight ahead. "There! Tip, over there!"
Tip did not need Dash's shouting or exuberant flipper waving to see what roused him. A figure swathed in a ragged brown cloak was swimming towards them. Immediately they could see it was a mermaid from the motions of her tail and her long blonde hair trailing behind her.
They also could see that something was very wrong. Her swimming was fitful, moving forward in spurts and then stopping, only to start again when she began to sink. A strange green light glowed underneath the cloak, illuminating the reefs beneath her. They could hear her groaning and crying as she swam, clearly in distress and pain.
"I see her!" said Tip, swimming off the rock as he waved to the mermaid. "Hey! Hey, you! Over here!"
The mermaid snapped her head up to look at them, only to suddenly cry out. She stopped swimming and rapidly began to sink. Her tail began waving again, but she ended up crashing headfirst into the top of a brain coral. She rolled over the top, tumbling down the side of the reef into a sandy patch of sea floor.
"Come on!" said Dash, pushing off the rock and swimming past Tip. "She's hurt!"
The two approached the mermaid as she started to push herself up. She was breathing hard and sharp as she clutched a hand to her head, her blonde hair draped down over her face.
Tip set down next to her. "Hey, are you–?"
The currents pushed the mermaid's hair back as she looked up at Tip. His eyes went wide as sea biscuits as he saw her face.
"Holy hundred herds of herring!" he shouted, flippers backpedaling frantically to get away from her. He ended up swimming right into Dash's stomach, the walrus making an ungraceful "oof!" as he hit. A stream of bubbles were left by Tip as he bolted behind his friend.
"What!?" said Dash, confused and concerned by his friend's sudden reaction. "What is it!?"
"Don't get near her!" shouted Tip, peering over Dash's head. "Not a mermaid! Definitely not a mermaid!"
The mermaid looked up at Dash, eyes looking pleadingly at him. She reached out to him with one shaky hand, even though it pained her greatly to do so.
Dash immediately saw why Tip reacted the way he did. He swam back to the arch as fast as he could, peering over the top as he unsuccessfully tried to hide his bulk. "Wh-wh-what is-s-s-s th-that!?"
"How should I know!?" blurted Tip, peering over the top of Dash's head. "I ain't seen anything like it!"
Dash swallowed. "D-do you think…th-th-this is wh-what we're w-waiting for?"
"It better not be!" exclaimed Tip.
"She is."
The raven's voice was loud and clear in the walrus and penguin's thoughts, making both of them jump.
"I found her two days ago in the open ocean," continued the raven's voice. "She has done what she can to make it here. Now you will take her the rest of the way."
"Wait a minute!" shouted Tip. "You mean to tell us that's why we've been out here all afternoon?! You sent us to deal with this thing?!"
An angry growl filled the duo's heads. "Watch your tongue, penguin! That is not a 'thing' before you! That is a person, and one who has suffered far more than you can imagine! The only manner in which you will deal with her is to bring her to home and safety!"
"Are you crazy!?" spouted Tip. "You want us to take it–her to Atlantica!?"
The mermaid gave a pained groan as she reached into the sand, dragging herself towards Tip and Dash. They recoiled back, not wanting her any closer than necessary.
"You will help her, and quickly," said the raven. "Get her up and take her to Atlantica. She will not last without the trident's intervention."
The mermaid started to drag herself again, but then a coughing fit overcame her and she collapsed on the sand. She curled up, hugging herself tightly. Her breathing changed, becoming slow, deep, and ragged. She shivered for a moment and then went still.
Dash lifted himself higher above the arch. "I…I think he's right, Tip. She looks really hurt!"
"No way!" said Tip, shaking his head vigorously as Dash cautiously swam to the mermaid. "I'm not going anywhere near her! She's probably just waiting for us to get close and then-wham! We're chum for the fishes!"
Dash lowered himself beside the mermaid, gingerly touching her with a flipper. She did not respond.
"Hold on, miss!" said Dash as he began trying to work the mermaid onto his back. "Tip! I need a flipper, buddy!"
"Help him," ordered the raven.
"Uh-uh! I'm out!" said Tip as he waved his flippers. "Eavesdropping and sticking your weird feathers in random places was one thing, but this is too much! I'm not sticking my neck out so she can take cut it in half!"
"If I were you, penguin, I would be minimally concerned with the possibility of her killing you."
"Yeah? And why's that?"
Tip's world suddenly went black. The ocean, Dash, and the "mermaid" were gone. He was surrounded by endless silent darkness.
"Uh-oh." Tip swallowed and looked about, a creeping trepidation building within. "Dash! You there, pal? Hey, Dash! Where are you? Dash!"
A blazing wall of fire erupted in front of Tip, causing him to fall backwards as the heat washed over him. The wall raced out to eternity in both directions, climbing into the black sky higher than Tip could see. He squinted against the light, shielding his eyes as he crawled away from it.
An enormous black thing appeared behind the wall of fire. It was massive, larger than anything Tip ever thought possible. Four glowing orange eyes peered out from it, and Tip suddenly realized just what he was looking at. Any doubt he had about Dash's story being fiction evaporated. This was the being who created the raven and the demon. This was the being Dash spoke of in the story of Walpurgis. A being that all things instinctively feared, and rightly so.
And Tip just made him angry.
"Because if she dies from your cowardice, you will answer to me!" roared the massive thing, causing the flames to billow violently, the heat becoming intolerable. "Now help her!"
The ocean reappeared before Tip faster than he could blink. He looked around for the raven or his creator but saw neither.
"Tip!" He turned around to see Dash with the mermaid's upper half slung over his tail. "Come on! I can't do this on my own! I need you to tie her on my back!"
Tip gulped. Which did he fear more? The possibility this "mermaid" could be a trap laid by the enemy? Or the wrath of that thing the raven answered to if she did not pull through because he backed out?
The raven. Flippers down the raven a million times over.
Tip swam down and took one of the mermaid's hands. He pulled as he swam straight up, lifting her off the sea floor enough for Dash to come in and slip himself underneath. He swam over to the kelp forest and snipped off a long strand with his beak.
"Up-up!" he said, and Dash complied by swimming far enough off the sea floor for the penguin to swim underneath. Tip swam circles around Dash, using the kelp to bind the mermaid to him. Four times he went around before finishing up by the mermaid's back.
"Come on!" said Dash, shifting his frame to get her better positioned on him. "Hurry up!"
"I'm tying as fast as I can!" snapped Tip.
The mermaid's eyes opened weakly, fixing on Tip as he finished her binding. "Who…are you?"
"Titanic Tip and Daring Dash, adventurers-slash-explorers!" said Dash. "We're here to rescue you!"
"Or get turned to fish bait by you!" muttered Tip as he pulled the mermaid's hand forward, wrapping her fingers around the kelp stem.
"Tip!" exclaimed Dash.
The mermaid looked at Tip a moment longer, and then her eyes lidded over and closed. "Thank…you…"
"There is little time!" came the raven's voice. "Tip, you will swim ahead and fetch Triton! Say and do whatever you must, but bring him straight to her! He must see her!"
"Aye-aye, cinder breath," muttered Tip before he sped off back to Atlantica. "First this, and now I'm off to boss the king of Atlantica around! How many lives does he think I have?"
"As for you, swim as fast as possible!" the raven said directly to Dash. "Return exactly the way you came! Hurry!"
"Yes sir, bird sir!" said Dash. He pushed off the sea floor, fins working fervently as he followed after Tip's bubble trail. He swam off as fast as he could, heading straight for the lights of Atlantica.
A/N: Spring brings renewal and rejuvenation to the land and sea, but it has also brought the return of evil. Maelstrom has unveiled their newest weapon on the grandest stage: Clockmen. Soldiers of metal, lacking all the weaknesses of flesh, blood, and bone, endowed with the ravaged soul of one of the organization's victims. With the Master's return comes a threat to the Alliance no one could have anticipated: the truth of Lara's past. Can Lara and her magic overcome the clockman? What will become of the mermaid Tip and Dash have rescued? Just what did the Master discover about Lara in the east, and what manner of plan is he scheming now?
DISCLAIMER: I do not own "The Little Mermaid," Disney, or any of its associated characters and intellectual property. Everything else, however, is mine =)
