king’s protector. We will add you to our nightly prayers. May the Great Spirit continue your excellence till the worthless wretched heathen barbarian invaders are all massacred or sent back to their fake nation in tatters.”
Ackerley watched in awe as Yinnib’s eyes welled up.
Kenton thanked Yinnib for his loyalty as Sidestep came into view behind him. He put his hand on Ackerley’s head.
“I'll be seeing you again real soon, Ackerley. Have a good time here and be good.”
Ackerley nodded.
Kenton stepped out into the night. He lifted himself onto Sidestep, tied a bag of food the doorman gave him to the horse’s saddle, nodded to Ackerley, and took off into the darkness.
Ackerley watched his brother go. For the first in his life he didn’t want his brother to leave him.
The doorman closed the door and Yinnib wiped his eyes. “That sure is a brother you have, young Morzha.” He nodded multiple times with his hands enclosed. “Now then, where did Craith go? He needs to take you to your room.”
Craith came and led the way up the spiral stairs. Ackerley looked up to the walkway near the ceiling hoping to see that person he had seen earlier, but they weren’t there. Craith went through hallways and up another hidden stone staircase to the third floor. Upon seeing the third floor Ackerley thought he was in a different place altogether. All the majesty of the first two floors vanished. The walls were rough and the floor wasn’t carpeted. The doors were all simple and wood. Joyous voices could be heard. Children only a few years old to nearly adults were all over the place. Some were chasing each other while others just stood and talked, watching those who ran around. It was an amazing sight. Ackerley felt like a little town of commoners had been dropped right into that fancy castle.
“This, as you can see—” Craith jumped out of the way as two young boys almost plowed right into him. A few kids laughed. “This is where you will be staying. Hey! Hey, Jamie, pants are for roughhousing. Where is your day tunic?”
“But I am roughhousing.” A teenager said as he wrestled another boy to the ground.
“Alright, just don’t let anybody important catch you.”
“If they do I’ll just say ‘but Mr. Craith said I could!’” He pretended to sob.
“You’ll be back with Mr. Jett if you do that.” Craith yelled over all the noise. “Anyway,” he said, turning back to Ackerley, “this is the third floor where you will be staying. The bedrooms are this way.”
They made it through the third floor carefully avoiding all the people running about. Craith opened one of the plain wooden doors. It was a large room with four small but nice beds in each corner. The room was divided in four parts by a small fence about three feet high. Three of the four parts were covered with clothes and sheets and the occasional wooden toy. The fourth part, in the far right corner near a window, was as neat as can be.
“That’ll be your bed.” Craith pointed to the clean part of the room.
The boy who gave the letter to Kenton sat on the other bed on the right side of the room, the one closer to the door. He stared at Ackerley.
Craith climbed over the wooden dividing fence and patted the bed. “We just cleaned it this morning. I see your clothes have been brought up. I’ll see if I can get you a little table like the others have. Well actually you can’t see Murdo’s table, he’s got a—is that an animal pelt on it?”
“Yeah.” The boy with the letter said casually. “His mom sent it to him, thought he might get cold.”
“She’s always sending him weird things.”
“He didn’t much like having to give up his storage area.”
Craith sighed. “I told him how many times that he couldn’t have half the room?”
The boy with the letter shrugged.
Craith climbed back over the fence and stood in the doorway. “Don’t worry about Murdo. He’s a sweetheart.” Craith rolled his eyes as the other boy scoffed. “Alright, so he’s not a sweetheart, but don’t let him scare you.” He raised his arms and let them fall to his sides. “Welp, my room is on the other side of this floor. If you need anything don’t hesitate to come and see me. Wake up is at six thirty. Breakfast is at seven. You’ll figure it all out in due time. Yarn here can tell you what the schedule’s like on Tuesday. See you tomorrow.” Craith shut the door behind him.
Ackerley climbed over the fence and sat down on his bed. It was very soft and smelled fresh. He set the three outfits on the floor and saw a loose fitting shirt and pants he took to be nightwear. He scanned the room; taking in the mess and stopping when he noticed that the boy named Yarn was staring at him.
“Is your name really Yarn?” Ackerley asked, trying to sound friendly.
“It’s pronounced Jarn.” He chided irritably.
He was a little taller than Ackerley with brown hair hanging down to his eyes. He occasionally threw his head to the side to get the hair out of his eyes. He stood up and picked a few things off the floor and flung them into a pile. He held his arms straight down—his thumbs constantly rubbing his knuckles as if he didn’t quite know what to do with his hands.
“Why do they all call you Yarn then?”
“Because that’s what his parents named him.” A man said from the doorway. He was by far the oldest person Ackerley had seen on the third floor, probably over twenty years old.
“No it’s not.” Yarn said angrily from his bed.
The man came into the room and dove onto his bed. He bounced a full three feet in the air and landed with a loud thud a few feet away on the floor. He got up and raised his hands above his head. “That’s got to be a new record. Hey little knitface was that a new record?”
“No.” Yarn huffed.
“Oh cheer up, doilyman.” He jumped clean over the fence and sat on Ackerley’s bed. “I’m Murdo, by the way. You’ll hear all about me by tomorrow.” He held out his hand. Ackerley extended his own. Murdo bypassed his hand and slapped him upside the head. “When you leave here you’ll have a few stories of your own to tell about me.”
Ackerley’s face reddened and he almost punched Murdo, but he was back over the fence and on his own bed before Ackerley could fully register that he’d been hit.
Murdo rolled over on his bed and faced the wall. “Knitface would you blow out that light already, it’s way too late for a tiny little boy like you to be awake. Don’t make me write your dad again.”
Yarn clenched his fists tightly and glared at Murdo.
Murdo snapped his fingers annoyingly. “Hello! Anybody over there? Get the light before I make a sweater out of you.”
Yarn stood up, his face red and his arms shaking badly. Before anything could happen Ackerley jumped up and blew out the lantern hanging from the ceiling. The room instantly went pitch black.
“Why thank you, new guy. You’re really one of a kind, you know that? And don’t worry, I’ll have plenty of fun nicknames for you soon.”
Ackerley sat back down on his bed and stared out into the blackness. He’d never met anybody like Murdo, and he’d have been perfectly happy if he never did. A large part of him wanted his brother to come in and treat that guy like he’d treated that Welgo that chased them.
A while later another boy came in. Ackerley could see his outline from the lights in the hall. He was talking to a girl wearing a purple dress with the same designs as the everyday tunics. She hugged the boy and he closed the door.
“Why is it so dark in here?” He seemed to be a teenager, maybe sixteen years old. “Murdo, did you make Yarn blow out the light again?”
The sound of Murdo bouncing around on his bed met Ackerley’s ears.
“He was being so mean to me.” Murdo said. “I asked so politely and he started cursing and yelling. I swear I’m the victim here.”
Everyone ignored him.
“Is the new guy here yet?” The teenager said.
“Yes.” Ackerley said from his
bed.
“Great. My name’s Jamie. I think I saw you earlier. It’s nice to have you here.” His voice rose to near the ceiling and then over to the other bed near the window as he stepped over the fence onto his quarter of the room. Despite clearly being younger he sounded much older, or perhaps much more mature, than Murdo. “Alright everyone, get to sleep. It’s getting late and you all know we have to get up early.”
“You’re not the boss of me.” Murdo said even more childlike than usual.
“Shut up Murdo.” Jamie ordered.
Murdo didn’t make another sound all night. Ackerley no longer thought that he would have to sleep with the horses, but if he had to sleep in the same room as Murdo every night he would rather.
4.
The door opened and someone yelled for them to wake up. Ackerley rolled over with zero intention of sitting up. He couldn’t remember a time when he had to be up early and he definitely didn’t like the idea. He dozed off and woke again a few minutes later when someone shook him.
“Let’s go, kid.” Jamie said.
Ackerley sat up and waited for his sight to come into focus. The others had already gotten dressed in their everyday tunics. Murdo bounded out of the room and joined the loud voices of those who had also gotten ready. Jamie paused at the door and rapped his fingers on the frame.
“Show him to breakfast, Yarn, and make sure you tell him the schedule for the day.”
The girl appeared that Jamie was talking to the night before and they both vanished down the hall.
Yarn made his bed while Ackerley got dressed in his green tunic. He hated the idea of wearing the thing. He never even liked wearing shorts. It had long sleeves and came down to his knees. He tied the belt and felt really stupid. He mumbled to himself about how unnecessarily fancy everything was.
“I rarely even wash my clothes.” He said under his breath.
“They do all the washing.” Yarn said, laying on his bed, staring at the ceiling. “We leave the day clothes at the door on Sunday nights and the night clothes on Monday mornings. Everything gets back here on our beds by the time we need them again.”
“Oh, ok.” Ackerley said uneasily.
“Today we have the Tuesday schedule because . . . um . . . its Tuesday. You’re in my group so just follow me.”
They joined the others heading to breakfast. Ackerley made sure to keep Yarn in sight, but it was hard. Yarn quickly turned off into an empty hallway and through a door that led to yet another hidden stone staircase. It led directly outside on the side of the castle.
“Where are we going?” Ackerley asked. He noticed a small stable and horses walking about.
“I don’t like crowds.” Was all he said.
They went around to the front of the castle and knocked. The doormen answered and let them in. They didn’t seem at all phased that children were coming in from the outside.
To Ackerley’s surprise they didn’t go to the large dining room but back outside, this time out back. The gardens were even more beautiful in the morning. Yarn went straight to the left and through a door that blended into the wall. He ran up the stairs all the way back to the third floor. The halls were less crowded now. They finally ended up in a room with a bunch of tables. A long table in the back of the room was full of food. A line stretched back to the door.
“Why did we do all that if breakfast is right here?” Ackerley asked, still trying to catch his breath from running up the stairs.
“I like to take walks in the morning.” Yarn replied nonchalantly.
Ackerley’s plate consisted of slices of meat and cheese with a few slices of bread by the time they sat down in the corner of the room. He looked around at all the other children there and wondered how they ended up in a place like that. He assumed they all had important parents. Some had to of come from towns just like his. He was about to ask Yarn about it when Loeua came in and called for attention.
“Group one can go ahead to study; group two do your thing at med; and group three, you all know that you have reading first so get to it.”
“Reading?”
Yarn shrugged. “Yeah, we’ve got reading first. All the early tasks are two hours. After our second task we get to have lunch. And then it’s back to the third and longest task. It’s not all that bad.”
Reading took place in a small courtyard in the center of the castle surrounded by a cloister. Everyone in group three, there were fourteen of them, found a spot on the grass and read whatever book was handed to them by Craith.
“Craith oversees reading.” Yarn said. He opened his book and groaned. “I’ve read this one five times already.”
Ackerley received a book of poetry. He read some and actually enjoyed it a little. Unfortunately, however, reading poetry for two hours was a lot harder than it sounded. He kept glancing around to see that very few others were reading. Some were whispering to each other and some just stared at whatever they could find that was the least bit interesting.
He grew tired of reading about this poet’s obsession with his cats and put the book down. It didn’t take long for Craith to hover over him.
“Keep reading, Ackerley, only an hour and half left.”
He picked the book up again and opened it. He joined everyone else in pretending to read while really just staring at the grass.
As he was staring steadfastly at an ant climbing through the grass he noticed two people walking through the cloister. A woman led a young girl about his age. The girl wore a bright yellow dress that looked far fancier than even the fanciest dresses he’d seen the workers in the castle wear. She walked slowly, purposefully around the cloister and out of sight. He quietly asked Yarn who she was and he mumbled something about a princess without looking up from his book. Ackerley watched where she had been, wondering why she wore such an elaborate dress in the middle of the day, and also why he hadn’t seen her before that moment. He tried to ask Yarn some more questions but he shrugged him off as though he didn't want to discuss it.
The last hour went so slowly that Ackerley found himself trying not to doze off. He jumped up when Criath announced that it was time to head to the next task.
“Is this all we do?” Ackerley asked Yarn as they plodded through the castle to med, whatever that was.
“You get used to it.” He answered.
“It’s just so boring. I figured I’d be doing something more interesting than sitting and reading for hours in a great big castle like this.”
“Remember,” he stressed, “we’re here for safekeeping until the war’s over. A lot of kids are here because they’re parents are very important. The last thing Chellion wants to do is something these important people may not like.”
“What are they gonna do? It’s not like there are too many places in this country that’ll take us, or are there?”
Yarn frowned. “This is it.”
“But what about that Chellion guy? Where is he at?”
Yarn glanced around to make sure nobody was listening. “I’ve heard rumors. Some say he died long ago and the supervisors just pretend he’s here. Others say he’s a crazy old man who is kept hidden away because he’s unstable. Personally I think he left the county and found a place not at war, if a place like that exists.”
Ackerley wasn’t fond to see that med took place in an empty room on the second floor. Mats were strewn on the floor. Everyone sat on one and then meditation time began. He couldn’t believe that they had to spend two hours sitting in one place with their eyes closed. Because there was a new person among them Loeua went over the basics.
“Meditation is for the soul.” She began airily. The great kings have always believed that it is mediation that cleanses us of our wrongdoing and allows us to continue our lives fresher than when we started. For the next two hours you all will become one with nature and—” she excitedly took a deep breath, “—if you are ever so lucky you might be touch
ed by the Great Spirit and it will personally guide you to salvation.” She raised her hands to the ceiling. “Let it call to you and answer it or it shall pass and continue it’s wandering.”
Ackerley snickered. He looked around expecting to see eyes rolling and heads shaking, but he didn’t. Everyone stared transfixed at everything she was saying. Even Yarn nodded seriously.
When it came time to start Ackerley went ahead and tried it out. He closed his eyes, focused on his breathing, and waited until someone called to him. After ten minutes of waiting, and with no one calling to him, he stared at the wall and waited for it to be over. Unlike with reading nobody noticed that he wasn’t meditating because everyone else had their eyes closed.
“What was that all about?” He asked Yarn as they went downstairs toward the promise of lunch.
“What was what all about?”
“All that Great Spirit stuff.”
He stopped and stared at Ackerley with wide eyes. “What do you mean? Haven’t you even heard of the Great Spirit?”
Ackerley shook his head. Upon seeing the terrified look on Yarn’s face he quickly added: “I must have grown up away from all that. My parents never once mentioned a spirit or calls or even that this kingdom was named after some guy named Chell.”
“Some guy?!” Yarn stammered in disbelief.
His face suddenly changed. Up to that moment Yarn had always looked rather grumpy and defensive. All of a sudden his mouth widened into a huge grin.
“For months I thought I was the dumbest person here. At least that’s what Murdo always told me.”
“Hey!” Ackerley protested.
“Oh, I don’t mean that as a bad thing.” Yarn corrected. “I just mean I’ve been picked on by all the older kids because my family were all farmers before my dad got in the army. I didn’t know anything when I got here about history but I sure knew about the Great Spirit and the kings.” The smile faded slightly. “I never had any friends either.”
Ackerley stared at the floor guiltily. “Neither did I.”
Yarn shifted anxiously. “We can be in the loser club together.”
Ackerley nodded happily. “Sure.”
Lunch was served buffet style on the lawn out front. A few tables were brought out. Ackerley and Yarn sat against the wall near the front gate.
Ackerley felt at ease for the first time since hearing his brother talk about the castle. Not even what happened with the Welgo made him scared anymore. It seemed like so long ago. He felt genuinely safe there against that wall.
“So who was that girl today in the courtyard?” Ackerley asked.
“She’s the princess of somewhere. The only time anybody ever sees her is at the formal dinners. She just sits in the corner. They don’t let anybody near her—probably think we’ll contaminate her or something.”
“She doesn’t stay on the third floor, does she?”
“No, I think she stays somewhere on the second floor.”
Ackerley dropped it there. He didn’t want to seem like he was too
The Chellion Days Page 6