We all began to disperse, taking turns to stop by Pierre before going off on our own way. Shemmy got up, letting us all see how her gown had gotten stained with everything she had consumed. Nairee’s face froze when she saw the mess that girl made of herself.
Once we’d all gotten our information, I went to speak with Billiam, and Roland joined us. Quietly Zan and Katrina walked outside together. Malcolm and Pierre wheeled Ackerman into the kitchen to get him some real food and sneak him some ale. Nairee and Jessica descended upon Shemmy, first pulling her upstairs to change, and shortly after taking her out to town to shop. A wash of normality fell back over the lodge. At the end of this day everything would change. The faces we had seen every day, we wouldn’t see for months at the soonest, if we’d even see them all again.
That night, Nairee and Alex prepared us a grand feast. Zan and Roland attempted to make music with their flute and piano and were mostly successful. Katrina and Jessica poured drinks generously, but by nine all members of Logos were cut off. It would be unfortunate to wake up with a hangover when one’s life was on the line. There were many citizens in the tavern that night who must’ve thought the patrons were just being exceptionally jolly.
As the commotion died down, I had a chance to approach Billiam privately. “Well, Captain, it is finally happening,” I said, putting an arm around his shoulder. I am eight feet tall, and although Billiam only shot up to six foot six, our shoulders were about the same height, my neck taking up a lot of my length. “You are ready?” I asked, locking my gaze with his dark brown eyes.
“Aye, well I think everything is put together as well as can be. It all works on paper. I won’t feel totally comfortable until it’s done, and we land in the woods.” Billiam was hardly able to stand still.
“I was talking about you, not the plan. I mentioned nothing to the girls about him. I think that Katrina is fine. I worry about you, and not just because of Zan, but because of Micah. I feel your emotions with you, you know. This resurrection ritual… there is no concrete evidence of it ever really working or how well. I need to know you will be okay, no matter the outcome,” I continued, to which he fell into me, letting tears slide down my neck.
“Shemmy, she will buffer me from Zan fine. I worry not about my choice there. I know it surprised you, but I need one of the two of you with me. You are the only one I can trust to take over, should something happen to my group. I cannot stand being near him, but I know he is devoted to me and will fight like a one-man army to protect me. I will put my feelings aside if it benefits the safety of the prince.
“However, if Micah… if anything is critically wrong… I assure you, I will not be the least bit okay. I will be destroyed and will be able to lead no one.” He hugged me tight, still crying, as I took caution to make it so that no one saw him in this state. “You will take care of everyone. You will take care of me? If I can’t have him or the real him, you are in charge. No one can know this, but you must be ready. You will feel my pain and know to change the plan. I doubt I will be able to let myself live for more than a minute if we fail.”
I held him for a moment before saying anything. “Of course, Billiam. I just needed to hear that you truly understand. Please do not lose your resolve unless it needs to be lost. I am not sure why, but I actually do think this will work. You will have your love at last; I feel it in my bones. Take that not as a premonition, but know I believe in you and in Micah. I have faith in that creature you brought as well, though you don’t need to tell her that.”
“Leke, thank you so much. You are my anchor, hard and cold, keeping me grounded always. I really… I need this to work. I need my life to finally be better.” He wiped his face on my shirt, transforming himself back into our fearless leader. “Let’s start a revolution, my dear friend!” he exclaimed, and for the others, this was the first audible part of our conversation. With that he was ready to stop hiding his face in my neck and start making his good nights.
Roland and Zan were taking the sleeping elder Grimhart upstairs, so I tended to another passenger. I grabbed Jessica off her swaying position on a bench and carried her to my room. While ascending the steps, I pressed my face up against her skin, getting my fill of her warm vanilla scent before we were to be apart.
Chapter 4
May 4th, 989
MORNING FELT far too soon, warm in my bed with Jessica curled into me. This was not the case for Billiam, who had slept approximately half an hour in five-minute intervals throughout the night. By the time the sun rose, he gave up that hopeless endeavor.
He kept feeling as though he needed to pretty himself, to become an immaculate visage. As quickly as this anxiety would wash over him, it passed and he grieved for it. He knew he was to see the prince, but the prince would not be able to see him. He was bubbling up inside so much so that his nervousness was what actually woke me, not daybreak.
As I mentioned, we faelocks are incredibly empathic. My strong bond with Billiam allows me to experience his emotions when they reach extremes, kind of like a knock at the door of my soul. When he knocks as loudly as this, I have to answer the door promptly, or he will never stop banging.
Slipping out from under the sleeping beauty, I snaked my long body onto the wooden floor. Climbing up the stairs from my room on the second to Billiam’s on the third, I prepared myself for the wretch. I went to return the knocking, but his bedroom door was wide open. I saw him in the mirror, untying and retying his necktie twice before he saw me.
When he did finally see my reflection, the shock forced a little yelp out of him. “Leke, good morning! You look terrible.”
“What do you expect? You woke me up,” I grumbled, crossing his room to fall back onto his bed. “Give yourself hypertension and you might pass it on to me too.”
He laughed, but it was to please me, not because he meant it. He sat next to me and frowned before tugging on my flannel pajama pant leg. “I do not ask you to share my feelings. I would rather you not be burdened by it. I cannot… I won’t be able to relax. You should get used to not sleeping, until he… if he….”
That last thought actually caused me physical pain, so I punched him for it. “Stop it, Billiam. As much as I want you to be realistic, I don’t want you to turn into a morose weakling. You are our confident, valiant leader. How disappointed will Micah be when he is revived and you are shocked to see him, blubbering like a baby? No! You must be ready for him, like you have been. It is destiny for him to be brought back to you, and that is how he must be greeted. It is with that confidence that you need to handle this whole mission, even before he can appreciate it.”
He flopped backward, landing squarely on my stomach and knocking the wind out of me. He was obviously feeling better as that emotional pain in my chest was no longer seething. He was still forcing me to choke on his nervous butterflies, but the full-fledged terror was no more. “Leke, I cannot wait! I am sad you will not be there.”
Rolling out from under him and into a seated position, I responded, “I am actually quite glad it will take you at least a week to get to Alafor after reviving the prince.” He grew upset at this, so I grinned and continued, “You may not be acting like such a lovesick puppy dog at that point. You are going to be disgustingly happy; feeling it will be more than enough.”
“You know me too well, friend.” He was smiling as he got up, though he began pacing. “Pierre is already double-checking all the wine bottles. Malcolm will be procuring their disguises from that tailor woman any moment now. What do I do?”
“Does Nairee need any help prepping the balloon or readying the spell? Perhaps you should make Shemmy observe. I know it’s not the same as enchanting, but if she can pick it up, it may prove quite useful,” I suggested. I knew even the tasks he was speaking of, the ones the others were doing, were more last-minute checks than anything. We had gone over everything so many times, despite accelerating the date of execution. There was really nothing left to do but to actually do it—a logic that was lost on this anxiou
s man at the moment.
“Brilliant, Leke! We need to be off to the balloon, then! Waking up Shemmy may take a while. You get yourself dressed, and I will start on raising the beast.” He got up and bounced around like a gleeful child. He was so excited, he barely remembered his hat and thought nothing of putting on a coat.
Following orders, I left to prepare myself. Walking down the hallway to the stairs, I saw Zan poking his head through his doorframe. “Thank you for making him feel better,” he mumbled, letting go of his chest and hobbling back to his bed.
Billiam had taken my thought of bringing Shemmy to watch the ritual and run with it. Nairee became so confident with Shemmy’s abilities she left the actual casting to her. This gave her time to get into character without having to rush directly from the balloon. Shemmy was so adept at her newly learned spell, she adapted it to work on living objects as well. Malcolm and I got to be her test subjects.
At nine forty-five, as scheduled, groups A and F were outside the Westend sewer overflow preparing to board our inflatable chariot to the castle. This same debris chute introduced Billiam to Shemmy, and so it would do the same for his reintroduction to his beloved Micah.
“The five of us won’t be too much for the balloon?” Zan asked Billiam but stared at Malcolm.
“It can hold three tons. We are definitely fine. Leke will carry Malcolm down the rope to save time, if that’s fine with him. She can also hold three tons, I believe,” Billiam replied with a grin. Malcolm just shrugged. He was used to such inconveniences and judgments based upon his size. I nodded, though me carrying three tons was a slight exaggeration.
We piled into the balloon, and Billiam barely waited for Shemmy to finish the cloaking. As soon as she had a leg in the basket, he struck up the flame. She fell into me, looking like a strange doppelgänger in her white top and black slacks. Nairee and Jessica had forced her to dress like a Logos. The outfit was a far cry from the low-cut patchwork dress of animal skins we all met her in. We rushed up into the air and off to meet with Nairee and Pierre, who had just reached the castle gates.
The cardinal was the highest-ranking religious leader within Casperland, and thusly did his best to stay true to a pious, devout appearance. One thing he found impossible to humble was his obsessive thirst for expensive wines from across the globe. Having a wine vendor with an order set up, even one that was not formally scheduled, would not raise suspicion from anyone at the castle. To them, it was either an impulsive decision from the cardinal or a surprise that would delight him.
Nairee and Pierre were relieved by how easily they made their way in. They fit the part well, Nairee’s exotic looks giving promise for a new foreign wine. After breezing through the front gates, they walked leisurely through the entry garden. They arrived at the door, and Pierre unhitched the wine cart from the donkey who would be sitting the rest of this mission out. The lack of wine not only made for a brilliant way to incapacitate anyone who saw them on their way through the castle, it also made the cart very light and easy to navigate. As soon as they approached, the large door opened, and Marla’s round, happy face burst through.
“Aye, you are from the Chateau du Gamoline, ’den? Oi, master will be so excited. He’s sure ta be the first in ta capital to get his hands on dis stuff,” said the girl cheerfully, leading them in.
The castle was a masterpiece of white marble, dotted with furniture and doors of the richest carved oak. The royal family, the Helvendeeres, had been patrons of the arts their entire long reign. The fruits of their patronage culminated in the castle, showing the long history of Casperland from room to room.
As they passed through the spacious hallway, Nairee and Pierre looked upon the swirl of ivory and gilded wood fondly. This palatial home to kings had played a hugely important part in their lives. Amidst their reminiscing, Nairee engaged in small talk with Marla about grapes and soil quality until they made it into the wine cellar. Once inside the dark, cooled room, Marla locked the door behind them.
“All right, are you ready, miss?” Pierre asked kindly, wiping his glasses on his shirt. He was a thin, sort of frail man of forty-eight years. He was average height with pale, wrinkled skin and a full beard. He looked more like a bookworm than a warrior, which was a bit true. His focus was strategy and explosives, though he was an impressive swordsman in his own right. He was quick and easily underestimated, a fearlessly loyal knight all his life.
She nodded, and they all began piling the gas-filled bottles into their arms. Marla led them slowly through the back exit into the kitchen. They climbed out of the darkness of the cellar and were dazzled all over again with the glittering marble of the ground floor. As they turned past the kitchen, a flash of bloodred caught the corner of Nairee’s eye. Their stomachs dropped to the floor, and the three of them ceased breathing.
“Marla! There you are, you tart! I’ve had a truly pleasureless morning, dear. You have some time to make up for,” called a rich voice from within the kitchen. Cardinal Aldrious’s young-looking face watched on calmly from above the crimson robe. “You brought me presents and visitors, hmm? That’s a bit peculiar.” He cocked his head to the side, waiting to hear what she could come up with.
“Cardinal! I thought you would be at parliament today!” she gasped out, starting to feel faint. Nairee and Pierre were around the corner, trying to stay out of his view although they knew he was aware of their, or at least someone’s, presence.
“You thought I was gone, so you’d run around carrying bottles of my wine and strutting merchants through the royal palace? What a silly bird you are. You know how I loathe political charades. It means nothing, so I used a double. I will get my way whether I am there or not. Oh Spirit, those aren’t chardonnay, are they? You know I prefer reds,” he chided, his words smooth and melodic coming out of his refined mouth. They were somehow terrifying without being so at all.
He walked over to her and reached to grab a bottle. Rage spread over his face, at first from the emptiness and secondly from the gleam of Pierre’s glasses as he rounded the corner. After slamming one of his bottles down, he used that newly empty hand to grab the cardinal as he fell.
It was extremely difficult for the couple to not dispose of the tyrant right then, in his vulnerable state, but they knew they should follow the plan. This man and his corruption of the former king were the only reasons they could find for the ruin that had fallen over the kingdom they loved so dearly. To not punish him was the hardest decision they could make, but it was probably safer. There was no telling what the Mortanion Brotherhood would do should Aldrious be murdered.
Marla’s joyful face had turned completely sour, and it looked like she was going to be ill. “Girl, change of plans, yes?” Nairee instructed, grabbing her shoulders and waking her up from her shock. “All right, you stay here. I know how to get to the prince’s room. You need to throw down a bottle as soon as you see him move even an inch, ya understand? Take all my bottles. When you drop your last, you run as fast as you can out of this castle. I’ll be taking your sewer key now. You just run and don’t look back for nothing.”
Marla was shaking, but she nodded at Nairee, who embraced her before following her husband. They continued their trek through to the hallway of the royal bed quarters.
The first guards came from a room on the left, surely wondering why the cardinal hadn’t returned from the kitchen yet. Pierre dropped a bottle, though they both got their pistols ready. Sparing casualties was a luxury they could no longer afford.
They quietly passed by seven or so rooms before Pierre recognized the prince’s door. It was made of fine mahogany, with gold flecks embedded in the ivy carved all through it. Nairee shot the lock, and they rushed in, ready for the onslaught of guards that must have heard it.
Micah’s crystal tomb was prominently displayed in the middle of the room, only a few paces away from his real bed. It was illuminated by the large bay windows behind it, which would be their exit route to the courtyard. As soon as Nairee reached the coff
in, a group of guards rushed them.
Pierre dropped his next-to-last bottle down hard at the same time Nairee smashed open the prince’s coffin with the butt of her gun; the accidental synchronization making for one less noise. She flung open the lid, and Pierre made his way over. The frozen gas spilled out, nipping at the duo’s fingertips before dissipating. He slipped one arm under the prince’s neck and the other under his knees whilst she shot between the eyes of a guard in the doorway.
After breaking down the windows with a kick, Nairee jumped out first. Three servant girls hanging laundry screamed upon seeing her. Two guards heard this and ran from the other side of the courtyard. She grabbed one of the small bombs from the satchel on her husband’s hip, lit it quickly, and tossed it in the prince’s room. It exploded with a deafening rumble, crashing down bits of the wall all around their exit. This bought them time from the old pursuers to deal with the new ones. She chucked the last bottle hard into the middle of the courtyard, and the gas seeped out, knocking down both servants and guards.
“Up here,” I called from a few paces above and in front of where they stood. “Shemmy cloaked us and the rope too. Malcolm is behind you.” Nairee felt a hand grab her and could see his round body, clouded almost completely by the spell. “Can you make me out? I had her not cloak my ring. Give me the prince quick.”
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