by G Sauvé
“Who are they?” he asks.
“I’m not sure,” I lie. “I found them trying to sneak onto the bridge when I returned from my… well, you know.”
“They were trying to sneak into the palace?” asks one of the guards, incredulous.
I nod.
“Why?” asks the other.
“I don’t know,” I lie once more.
“What are they?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe they’re korrigans.”
Mentioning the short humanoids reminds me of Korri. He desperately wanted to accompany us, but Jonn insisted he remain behind to watch over the arkane guard whose appearance I stole. Korri didn’t seem pleased, but he agreed to play the role of babysitter when I explained how important it was that our prisoner remain captive. Our plan was already perilous enough without an arkane running around and yelling that he had been abducted by a couple of humans and a korrigan. I felt sorry for Korri, but at least he would be safe if something went wrong.
“They’re bigger than any korrigan I’ve ever seen,” says one of the guards.
“You’ve never even seen a korrigan,” says his friend.
“Yes, I have.”
“No, you haven’t.”
I can tell the argument will soon degenerate, so I decide to take advantage of the situation.
“You guys don’t need me to figure out who did or didn’t see a korrigan,” I mutter. “I’ll just go ahead and escort these prisoners to the palace. King Kanto can decide what to do with them.”
I start walking, my friends following close behind, but we only make it a few metres.
“Wait!” says one of the guards. “I’ll come with you. You can’t be too careful when escorting prisoners.”
The last thing we need is an escort, but it would look suspicious if I refused his help, so I give him a big smile and make small talk as we begin the long walk across the bridge. We eventually run out of things to talk about and spend the next few minutes in silence. This allows me to ponder certain details I have up until now failed to take into account.
If we pull this off, I’ll get to go home. The thought should fill me with joy, yet I can’t help feeling anxious at the thought of parting ways with Jonn and Kara. I won’t miss the putdowns, but Kara’s friendship won’t be so easy to give up. She’s beautiful, smart, and selfless. She’s the kind of girl I could see myself spending the rest of my life with. Unfortunately, none of that matters at the moment. There will be time for soul-searching later. For now, only one thing matters. The mission.
We keep going until we reach the palace. It was impressive from afar, but now that I see it in all its glory, I recognize it for what it truly is.
A work of art.
The palace wasn’t built. It was carved. Every centimetre of it belongs to the same piece of exposed bedrock. Every window, doorframe, and awning is unique and intricately decorated. Beautiful landscapes have been chiselled into every room and every alleyway. Even the lamps that illuminate the inside of the palace have been sculpted from the same piece of rock. Every chamber we pass is more beautiful than the last, but one shines brighter than all the others.
The throne room.
I barely even notice the half dozen armed arkanes that stand at attention along its walls. I’m far too fascinated by the intricate designs that have been carved into every centimetre of every surface. The walls. The floor. The ceiling. Everything has been hand-sculpted with great care. It would take weeks just to take in such beauty. Unfortunately, my friends and I are only given a few measly seconds to drink in what must have taken years to achieve.
I’m so busy staring at the beauty that surrounds me I fail to notice the king sitting atop his majestic throne. It’s not until he speaks that I finally notice him.
“What is it?” he demands. The voice is oily, like the humanoid producing it.
King Kanto is unlike any other arkane I have ever seen. He’s short—at least for an arkane—and morbidly obese. Flabs of fat erupt from his lavish clothing like molten rock dried into unnatural-looking ripples. The crown that sits atop his head barely even fits him anymore. The skin of his face has been stretched by years of overeating, yet I can tell he’s nearing the end of his life. I can’t make out his exact age, but there’s no doubt in my mind he’s the oldest living arkane in Arkania.
It’s not until I stop focusing on the details that I notice the ruler’s peculiar pigment. Every centimetre of him, from his fat face to his chubby toes, is a bright shade of purple. While this colour sometimes reflects a deep sense of wisdom and dignity, it’s more customarily associated with power, luxury, and royalty, three things the korrigans lack.
I don’t realize the king is staring at me until I focus on his eyes. But those aren’t the eyes of a ruler; they’re the eyes of pure evil. I’ve only ever seen one person with such eyes.
Avalon.
The sight of her reminds me of the countless innocents that died because of her actions. The memory of the arkane girl who perished appears before my mind’s eye. It lingers for a moment before giving way to another. One after the other the dozens of korrigans I watched perish from the fire plague flash before my eyes. And with each new face, my rage grows. Soon I’m consumed with hatred.
That’s when it happens. I start shifting. I try to fight it, but I can’t. I slowly revert to my true self. It’s not until the change is complete that I realize the implications of my transformation.
Our cover is blown.
Memory 53
W e’re busted. Or so I think until I realize no one has moved since I reverted to my true form. King Kanto—AKA Avalon—sits atop her throne, a stunned expression plastered across her face. The royal guards stare at me with wide eyes and dropped jaws. Even Kara seems at a loss for words. Only Jonn remains unaffected by my transformation.
He sheds his restraints, retrieves his hidden blade, and rushes forward. By the time the guards realize what he’s up to, it’s already too late.
Jonn stands behind the obese ruler, his knife pressed firmly against her throat. A thick layer of fat stands between the blade and Avalon’s windpipe, but one quick flick of the wrist is all it will take for Jonn to end her life.
Unfortunately for her, the arkane guards seem oblivious to this fact as they converge toward the throne, their spears ready to strike.
“Stay back!” warns Jonn.
The guards ignore the soldier’s warning and converge toward the throne, spears raised. The crimson tint of their skin leaves no doubt in my mind as to their state of mind.
They’re pissed.
“Stay back!” repeats Jonn, but his warning goes unheard.
The guards keep advancing.
I focus on Avalon. There’s something off about her, but it takes a moment before I figure out what it is.
Her skin is white.
I have seen this lack of pigment often enough to know it’s associated with fear. What I don’t understand is why. Why is Avalon afraid? Sure, Jonn has a knife to her throat, but this isn’t her first brush with death. Why is she afraid? Why is she—
“Stop!” orders Avalon, interrupting me mid-thought.
The guards halt.
“Tell them to leave,” instructs Jonn.
“I can’t,” says Avalon. “They won’t—”
“Tell them to leave, or I’ll kill you!”
There’s no doubt in my mind Jonn would do it, and Avalon is well aware of it.
“L-leave!” she stutters, playing her role to perfection.
The guards hesitate, their skin shifting from one colour to the next. They’re confused.
“Leave us,” growls Jonn, “or I’ll slice her throat.”
The guards exchange a few confused looks before complying. They lower their weapons, regress to their default colour, and slink out of the room.
“Give us the ring,” commands Jonn as soon as we’re alone.
“W-what ring?” stutters Avalon. “I d-don’t know what y-you’re talking about.”
Her confusion seems so genuine I wonder if we were wrong. What if King Kanto isn’t Avalon?
Jonn doesn’t share my pessimism.
“We’re alone,” he growls. “You can cut the act.”
“W-what act?”
Jonn’s flexes his muscles, a telltale sign that he’s about to do something stupid. Luckily, Kara steps in before he can make his move.
“Give us the cure,” she says.
“What cure?”
“Come on,” says Jonn. “We both know you would never release the plague without creating a cure in case you got infected.”
Avalon’s skin turns the colour of a ripe tomato.
“I didn’t release the plague!” she roars. She struggles to break free, but Jonn knocks her on the back of the head with the hilt of his knife, and she reverts to the blubbering mess she was before.
“Stop lying!” he barks. “Give us what we want or suffer the consequences.”
“I can’t,” sobs Avalon. “I don’t have the cure. And the only ring I own is worthless. Here. See for yourself.”
She reaches across her ample stomach and struggles to free what I assume is a ring from one of her stubby fingers. She throws it to Kara, but the item falls short. It rolls across the floor and comes to a stop right before me. I bend down and pick it up, my heart racing with excitement.
It’s a beautiful piece of jewelry, but there’s no hourglass.
“She’s right,” I say. “It’s worthless.”
“That’s it,” says Jonn. “It’s time to pay.”
I don’t understand what that means until I look up and see the grey-haired soldier’s arm muscles flex.
He’s about to kill Avalon.
“No!” pleads Kara.
I can’t tell what she cares about more; saving Avalon’s life or keeping her father from doing something that can’t be undone?
“It doesn’t have to be this way,” she pleads. “We can bring her back to Atlantis. She’ll be judged for her crimes and imprisoned.”
“She doesn’t deserve to live.”
They go back and forth like this for a while, which allows me to figure out how I feel about the situation. On the one hand, part of me relishes the prospect of seeing the woman responsible for all the deaths I have witnessed during my adventure being permanently and irreversibly stopped. On the other hand, I’ve never witnessed a murder. There’s also the issue of Avalon being the only person aside from my mother capable of answering the many questions I still possess regarding the mysterious symbol on my wrist. Not to mention the fact that we have no idea where the time travel ring is.
I look up just as Jonn grows quiet.
“NO!” I yell, interrupting the grey-haired soldier just as he’s about to strike.
“What is it?” he asks. He doesn’t seem angry, merely curious.
“You can’t kill him,” I blurt out.
“Have you forgotten how many innocents she’s killed?” demands Jonn. “Avalon deserves to die.”
“Maybe,” I admit. “There’s just one problem.”
“Really? And what might that be?”
“That,” I say, pointing at King Kanto, “isn’t Avalon.”
Memory 54
J onn looks at me as though I’m crazy. Kara appears equally confused by my claim, but I can tell she’s relieved I managed to distract her father from the gruesome task he was getting ready to accomplish.
“What the drowned are you talking about?” asks Jonn. “Of course it’s Avalon. Who else could it be?”
“Have you considered the possibility that King Kanto is exactly who he claims to be?”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“The boy’s right,” says the king. I guess he just realized how close he came to death. “I don’t know who this Avalon character is, but I’m not her.”
“Shut up, liar!” barks Jonn, pressing the blade of his knife deeper into the folds of fat that hang from the arkane’s neck.
The king falls silent.
“He’s not lying,” I say.
“Yes, she is. It’s what she does. And there’s only one way to put an end to it.”
The mad look in Jonn’s eyes tells me I’ve lost the argument. King Kanto is about to die, and there’s nothing I can do about it.
“Please, Dad,” begs Kara. “Just listen to Will. If you still want to kill King Kanto after that, we won’t stop you.”
Jonn considers her proposal for a moment before rolling his eyes.
“Fine. I’m listening.”
Kara may have delayed King Kanto’s murder, but his life now rests squarely in my hands. No pressure, right?
I take a moment to gather my thoughts.
“I saw the look on King Kanto’s face as you were about to kill him. It was a look of confusion and fear, the look of a man who had no idea why he was about to die.”
Jonn grunts. “It’s all part of her plan. Avalon is a liar, a manipulator.”
“No,” I insist. “I’ve experienced true terror on more than one occasion, and I can assure you it’s not something that can be faked. King Kanto wasn’t just afraid; he was terrified.”
Jonn raises an eyebrow. Is he starting to believe me?
“That doesn’t prove anything,” he says. “I was about to kill her. Anyone in that situation would have been afraid. Even Avalon.”
“Think about it,” I urge. “If King Kanto truly is Avalon, then why doesn’t he have a time travel ring? And what of her partner? Where’s Arko?” I’m on a roll, so I keep going, spewing all of my evidence before Jonn can interrupt. “Why didn’t she revert to her true appearance? The arkane guards are gone. There’s no logical reason for her to remain in the body of an overweight king when her true form is far more suited for escape. Do you remember how angry Kanto got when you accused him of releasing the plague? Why would he do that if he were the real Avalon? Wouldn’t she admit to it? Wouldn’t she boast about it? Wouldn’t she—”
“All right!” growls Jonn. “That’s enough.”
I want to protest, but I have run out of arguments. I did my part. Now it’s up to Jonn to decide whether or not he believes me.
A heavy silence fills the room. I glance at Kara. She looks worried.
“All right,” says Jonn after almost a full minute of silence. “This fat slob isn’t Avalon. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t involved.”
He’s right. King Kanto could be in cahoots with Avalon. For all we know, he’s been working with her all along.
“I’ll tell you everything,” promises the obese ruler. “All I ask is that you release me.”
Jonn hesitates for a moment before releasing the king. He takes a step back but remains within striking distance.
“What do you want to know?” asks King Kanto as he rubs his neck.
“Tell us about the plague,” says Kara.
“It came from the river,” begins the king. “Within days people started getting sick. Within weeks—”
“We already know that,” growls Jonn, brandishing his knife threateningly. “Tell us your story. How are you involved?”
King Kanto sighs, but nods.
“My daughter was the first to get infected. Every morning she would go swimming in the river. One day, she came back from her morning dip feeling ill. At first, the doctors thought she had a mere cold, but her condition worsened with each passing day. Within a week, she was on her deathbed. The doctors were clueless. They told me nothing could be done, and my daughter would die.”
King Kanto falls silent for a moment, lost in his memories.
“Just when I thought all hope was lost, a woman showed up, claiming to have a cure. She looked like no arkane I had ever seen. She was short, with beige skin, a large scar on her right cheek, and a weird symbol on her left wrist.”
Avalon.
“I was suspicious of this strange woman, but my daughter was on her deathbed, and I was desperate. She gave my daughter a few drops of some strange liquid and, within minutes,
she was healed. But the gift came with a price.”
Part of me is relieved King Kanto’s daughter survived. The rest is shocked by the discovery there’s a cure for the fire plague. There may yet be a way to save the korrigans.
“What did the woman want in return for saving your daughter?” asks Kara.
“She asked for a favour.”
“What kind of favour?” asks Jonn.
“Oh my god!” gasps Kara before the king can answer. “She told you not to help your people. That’s why you barricaded yourself in. That’s why everyone else is dead.”
I glance at the king for confirmation, but he refuses to meet my gaze.
“No,” he admits. “That was my decision.”
“Why?” asks Kara.
“My daughter had just been cured,” he explains. “I couldn’t risk her getting sick again.”
“So you just let everyone else die?”
“Couldn’t you have warned them not to drink from the river?” I ask.
“I couldn’t risk it,” argues the king. “If I had, they would have thought me responsible. They would have revolted and stormed the castle. What do you think they would have done with my daughter? They would have killed her. I may not be a good king, but I’m a good father. I don’t regret my decision.”
There’s a moment of silence as my companions and I struggle to come to grips with such an insane display of cowardice.
“You could have helped,” says Kara. “You didn’t have to let your people die. YOU COULD HAVE HELPED!”
“I had no choice,” claims the king in a momentary fit of guilt. “I did what I thought was right.”
Unfortunately for the selfish ruler, actions speak louder than words. And nothing he ever says will make up for the fact that thousands of innocents have died because of him.
I now understand why I originally mistook King Kanto for Avalon. Both are evil, though different in their interpretation of the word. Avalon released the plague, yet it was King Kanto’s actions that lead to the near decimation of the arkanes.
Things are finally starting to make sense, yet there’s still much we don’t know.
“What favour did the woman ask of you?” I ask.