Angst Box Set 1

by David Pedersen

  “Tori?” He tried to sit, but didn’t even have enough strength to rub the bleariness from his eyes.

  The first thing he could see clearly was Victoria hovering over him, looking worried and surprised. Her eyes were red and puffy, as though she’d been crying, and her breaths included an occasional hitch.

  “Ahem.” The Captain Guard was somewhere behind her, and even now correcting Angst for using the nickname.

  Angst was too tired to apologize and rocked his head to try to see more of the room. Behind Victoria’s hair, he could make out Dallow and Hector, smiling and patting each other on the back. He smiled weakly at them, not quite understanding their enthusiasm, but someone had probably won a bet about when he would wake. It was obvious he was in the infirmary. The walls were painted white, the cot was uncomfortable, and the scent of ‘scrubbed clean’ was barely held back by Victoria’s perfume.

  “Your Majesty, let the nurse do her job,” Tyrell advised politely.

  The princess flashed the Captain Guard a challenging gaze and tried staring him down. Tyrell was not swayed as easily as her mother, and she slowly moved from a hovering position to one seated on Angst’s cot, which almost gave the frustrated nurse and physician enough room to work. Angst came to realize she was holding his hand, which he still couldn’t move.

  Physician Nynette worked her way past Victoria, shaking her head in disbelief. She was older than Angst, though her brown hair was pulled back in a bun tight enough to smooth some of the wrinkles around her eyes. She’d spent too much daytime in rooms like this. Her skin was pale, and her dark blue physician robes too large for her frail body. Nynette was a bit wild-eyed, and she shook slightly while checking the pulse at his neck.

  “What happened?” Angst whispered in a voice scratchy from exhaustion.

  The physician replied in a strained, high-pitched voice, “When the guards carried you in, you weren’t breathing. I declared you dead thirty minutes ago.”

  “Um, what? How could I be dead?” Shock infused Angst with a short burst of energy, and he tried to sit.

  Tori put her hand on his chest so he would lie back down, and her hand was trembling, ever so slightly. “Angst, you were dead.” Her pouty lip quivered and her worried eyes were bloodshot.

  The nurse squeezed in behind Victoria, tipped his head back, and poured something gray and awful down his throat. It helped, a little. He looked over at Hector and Dallow, who had yet to say anything, eyeing him warily as if he shouldn't be there. The entire room seemed filled with a sense of awkward relief. But, what do you say to someone who suddenly stops being dead?

  “I’m not dead now. I remember dueling, I remember beating everyone up a little.” Angst nodded toward Tyrell and Hector, both of whom seemed a bit chagrined. “Then, there was something... No, then I saw you.” Angst looked at the princess. He wanted her to calm a bit, and flashed her an obnoxious ear-to-ear grin. “Wow, what a great way to come back to life.”

  Behind Victoria, Dallow rolled his eyes while Hector pretended to throw up. Even the nurse shook her head as she walked out of the room.

  The princess closed her eyes and tried not to smile. “You know, you really aren’t a very good flirt at all.”

  “Well, if you’re flirting you can go back to being dead.” Heather entered the room, followed by Tarness. Then she saw the princess and stopped abruptly. “Oh, Your Majesty, I didn’t know.” She bowed politely and waited at the door.

  “Thank you, Heather, but there are more important things than formality right now.” Victoria waved Heather into the room.

  Tyrell bristled at this, sighing significantly, but otherwise kept his peace.

  “Thank you, Your Highness.” She nodded appreciatively then looked at Angst. “I heard you were dead. Sadly, it seems it was only a rumor. I had your replacement lined up already.”

  Angst feigned shock. “Not the boy who works the stables at Wizard’s Revenge? He’s a bit young, isn’t he?”

  Heather blushed a bit and her eyes grew large. “I do not know of what you speak.”

  “You didn’t bring something to eat, did you?” Angst said, his voice still sounding like gravel crunching under a wagon wheel. His stomach growled, loud enough for everyone to hear.

  The princess stared at Heather, shaking her head in disbelief. “She’s as bad as you are.” Victoria dropped his hand and stood to face Heather. “Weren’t you worried?”

  “I don’t think I could get rid of him so easily.” She chuckled politely, but her eyes said something different. Heather sat on the cot where Victoria had been. She took Angst’s hand and held it. His hand was cold and damp, his grip weak from fatigue, but he squeezed hers gently.

  Victoria hadn’t observed the true concern in Heather’s gaze. She smiled politely. “I’m glad you are all right, Mr. Angst. I wish you a speedy recovery.”

  “Thank you for being here,” Angst whispered, but the princess had left before he could finish. Tyrell followed Victoria, and the physician smiled, rubbing her hands together.

  Hector turned to Dallow. “He does play with fire, doesn’t he?”

  “He’s braver than I am,” Dallow replied then looked to Angst. “You’re going to have to do something about that one day.”

  “Bah.” Angst found he was able to sit up, and was starting to feel somewhat human again, though he was still famished. He looked down at his noisy stomach. “The princess and I are good friends, nothing else. Really, is there anything to eat?”

  The room was quiet. Heather watched him with great concern, still holding his hand. “What happened?”

  “We dueled. Tyrell, Rook, and I all fought Angst for about fifteen minutes or so,” answered Hector. “When it was done, he collapsed.”

  Heather stood up suddenly and looked back and forth between Angst and Hector. “Wait. Why were three people fighting my husband? Was it everyone at once? Who knocked him out? Was it Tyrell?”

  Hector looked at his foot to avoid her angry glare and drew his thumb along the scar on his chin. “Uh, well, not exactly. Angst started fighting Rook then I joined in. We dueled for several minutes before Tyrell stepped in too.” He looked up briefly, but at seeing Heather’s glare went back to studying his foot. “Angst knocked Rook senseless then I bowed out of the fight, leaving Tyrell and Angst. They dueled for another five minutes when I broke it up. That’s when he passed out.”

  “What? What?” Heather asked, holding a palm up. “How is that possible? Fighting three men at once?”

  Angst shook his head. “It’s the sword. There was something going on. It kept pushing me, or guiding me, or both.” He shut his eyes, trying to remember. “It’s hard to explain. Before I passed out, did you guys hear music?”

  Blank, awestruck stares answered his question.

  “No?” He shook his head. “I think I just need some more practice with it.”

  “After it killed you?” Heather cried, her curly hair disheveled and her cheeks blotchy red. “Is your ego so important that you’ll die for it, Angst?”

  He rolled his eyes and looked at Nynette, who’d been listening intently to the whole story. “Really, could I trouble you for a sandwich or something?”

  Nynette ignored him, scribbling notes on a parchment that probably wasn’t an order for food. Every time she looked up, her eyes were unsure. He didn’t enjoy that look, from any of them, but the disbelief in their eyes didn’t compare to the fury in Heather’s.

  “I’m sure Tori will be impressed when you kill yourself with that stupid sword,” she shouted. “Forty years old and still pretending to be twenty! Do you want to die that badly, Angst? Is your life so horrible?” Heather threw his hand back to the bed and stomped out of the room.

  “Could I please have just one more person kick the crap out of me today? That would be just great,” Angst said to nobody.

  “You’re the one who likes to keep so many of them around,” Tarness said with a broad smile.

  “I think you’re a sadist, personally,”
said Hector.

  “So what are you guys doing here anyway?” Angst asked, trying to change the subject yet again.

  “Hector sent word to Tarness and me that you were dead. Tarness fetched your wife while I went to tell Rose.” Dallow said.

  “Where is Rose?” Angst asked, looking around as though she were hiding.

  “She, well, she got really angry at me when I told her the news then she stomped off. It was weird,” Dallow said with look of bewilderment.

  Angst wasn’t surprised. Rose had lost her father when she was young, and had no tolerance for death. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll talk to her after I get out,” he said, faking a smile. “So was I really dead? Is this going to happen every time I use that thing?”

  Everyone shrugged.

  Angst had no memory of passing out, but something tickled the back of his mind. He could still hear the music, though it was very quiet. There was a brief glimpse of memory, like a poor reflection in a choppy lake. Something about the sword, something about what it was made for and what it wanted. It had tried to tell him, or include him in something.

  “Where is the sword anyway?” Angst asked.

  “Right where you dropped it, Angst. You weren’t kidding. No one else can lift it. Rook felt awful,” Hector said apologetically.

  It was Angst’s turn to shrug. “Not to worry. This whole situation is beyond odd.” He leaned back into the pillow.

  “I’m curious. What kind of music did you hear, Angst?” asked Dallow.

  “It’s hard to describe. Not really music, but something similar. I want to hear more, though,” Angst said in a quiet voice that trailed off.

  “I’ve heard enough,” Nynette said sharply, “Nurse, please bring in my alchemy kit.”

  Angst could hear a cart being wheeled down the hall. The sense of dread creeping up his spine was quickly forgotten by the smell of roast duck and spice bread. A man dressed in white pushed a cart of food into his room. It was the most magnificent, glorious cart of food Angst had ever seen, and delivered by the queen’s chef himself!

  “By Princess Victoria’s command, I bring you some royal dinner.” The chef dipped his white hat in a flourishing bow and winked at Angst. “Enjoy.”

  The physician growled loudly and stomped out of the room.

  “Just how bad was it?” asked Queen Isabelle.

  They stood together in the viewing tower that overlooked the distant training field. Tyrell leaned forward and peered through a spyglass to see several guards standing by Chryslaenor.

  “Worse than we’d expected. Did you see how he defended against all three of us?”

  “All I could see was a blur, Tyrell. It looked as though he was out of control.”

  Tyrell pulled away from his viewing. “That’s the frightening part. He was never out of control. If he had been, I’d be dead. He was actually having fun. You couldn’t see his grin from up here. Angst was almost giddy the entire duel.” He stepped away from the window and clasped his hands behind his back.

  “We can’t kill him?” she asked sincerely.

  “I just watched him come back from the dead.” The Captain Guard looked at the queen, meeting her gaze. “Mirot will be disappointed, but that option is definitely off the table.”

  They both stared at each other for an eternity, silently reviewing the few choices available.

  “Your Majesty, I miscalculated. The duel should never have taken place in front of so many,” Tyrell said in a disappointed tone. “By now the entire kingdom knows what happened.”

  “Thank you, Tyrell, but I believe there’s no foreseeing what that weapon is capable of doing.” Much of the queen’s formality had been stripped away by worry and disbelief. She plopped down on a nearby cushioned seat and attempted to straighten her burgundy dress.

  “I don’t see how we can forcibly exile him. We’re all concerned about what he can do with the sword now, but there is something else I found to be frightening.” Tyrell paced around the small room. “As the duel progressed, he seemed to improve. It was almost as though Angst was trying to figure the sword out.”

  “What happens when he does figure it out? What happens when he realizes its full potential? I don’t think he should be anywhere near Unsel when that happens.” Isabelle took in a deep breath and sighed. “That smug little bastard may be right.”

  “You’re thinking of Wilfred’s plan?” Tyrell asked, a bit surprised.

  She nodded slowly. “I want Angst out of Unsel by the end of the week.”

  9

  When opportunity knocks, it’s typically hard and in the back of the head. Any time Angst heard the word ‘opportunity’ as part of an offer, tension immediately crept up his spine and into his shoulders. He’d always felt it was a bureaucratic code word, a way of saying, “We have a lot more work for you to do with little reward, except maybe our thanks if you don’t mess up too badly.” Angst muttered to himself while slipping his boot on. He wanted out of the infirmary and away from the evil genius doctor and the alchemy kit she kept threatening to use. His friends had departed and his stomach was full again. He now felt a great need to fetch Chryslaenor, make up with his wife, and sleep in his own bed.

  “Angst? What do you think about the opportunity?” asked Tyrell. He had been waiting patiently for a response while Angst brooded.

  Angst stood, pushing his foot the rest of the way into his boot. He liked Tyrell better when they were crossing swords. “Captain Guard, I’m sorry, I’m still a bit weary from the duel. What was that last part?”

  “Of course, Angst,” Tyrell stated in a formal tone. “The queen would like to discuss an opportunity over breakfast tomorrow morning. If you are up to the task.”

  Angst sighed, wondering what hoops he would need to jump through for knighthood. Had Tyrell even said they would be discussing knighthood? It was something Angst had always wanted, convinced it was the one thing that would fix everything he hated about his life. He vaguely recalled hearing the man say Angst could earn a ‘title,’ which could mean anything. ‘Jester’ was, officially, a title.

  “Please tell Her Majesty I would be honored by the opportunity to breakfast with her,” Angst replied with feigned gratitude. His response dripped with politic and irony, but it was enough of a response that Tyrell smiled, albeit curtly.

  “Glad to see you’re doing better. Tomorrow morning then.” Tyrell bowed stiffly and turned to depart.

  Angst followed, so closely that his proximity very obviously made the Captain Guard uncomfortable, until they reached the nurse. She stood abruptly and held out a threatening finger as if preparing to chastise Angst back into bed. But in the end did nothing more than open and close her mouth like a fish out of water. Following Tyrell that close had given the appearance Angst was under orders, and she wouldn’t consider questioning the Captain Guard’s authority.

  As they exited the infirmary, Tyrell stopped and looked at Angst with a raised eyebrow. “Smooth. Is there anything else I can help you with tonight?”

  Angst grinned, and clapped him unceremoniously on the shoulder. “That should do, thanks. See you tomorrow.”

  Angst walked away quickly to avoid any chance of contact with the physician or her nurse. He felt like he was suffering from a mild hangover and was desperate to clear his head with fresh air. He wanted to leave the castle, but had a nagging feeling that it would be best to visit Rose.

  Within a few minutes, he arrived at the servants’ quarters and knocked on her door.

  “Go away!” Rose’s command was embellished with several choice curses.

  He knocked louder, and continued knocking until she stopped yelling and opened the door.

  Her fine red hair was a disheveled mess, and her eyes widened more than usual at the sight of Angst. She was out of breath, and the bit of room he could see looked destroyed.

  “Run out of people to beat on?” Angst asked politely.

  Rose jumped forward, gave him the briefest of hugs, then quickly let go and too
k a step back. “Don’t you ever die again.”

  “I can’t even seem to do that right,” Angst replied jokingly, but her stern gaze wasn't affected. He sobered. “I’ll do my best.”

  Rose nodded and sighed.

  “I was going for a walk to fetch my sword. I seemed to have dropped it when I died earlier. Want to come with?”

  She smirked and rolled her eyes. “Well, if I stay here, I’ll have to clean this mess up.” Kicking a broken plate aside, she stepped behind the door and returned with a red cowl clasped around her neck. The cowl was heavy and made for winter, but Rose tended to chill easily. “Sure, why not?”

  They left the castle and wandered toward the training grounds at a slowish pace. He was surprised at how much better he felt, only stopping to stretch out knots, which seemed to choose a different muscle every few minutes. Rose talked castle gossip, ranted about her job, and complained about the new idiot girl who’d been hired for her abilities in the sack. She never once asked him about the duel, or the sword, or the dying. Some would’ve considered this rude, but Angst found their conversation refreshing. During that short stroll, for those brief minutes, nothing had changed. He was still just Angst, and Rose would never let him get away with thinking anything more.

  The air was crisp, and Rose hugged her cloak tight. Night was replacing dusk, and a bright moon illuminated their path. Angst was rarely cold, and had he been walking with Tori, he wouldn’t have hesitated to throw an arm around her. To share body heat, of course. The princess was a hugger, who seemed to like popping his bubble. Rose was the opposite, vehemently defending her personal space. She would visibly shudder, or even lash out, when touched. Oddly, in spite of her aversion to physical contact, she was always willing to hit him for his occasional crude remark.

  Gaps in conversation were filled by their lonely footsteps on the gravel path, and for Angst, the distant song of Chryslaenor. It became louder as they approached the training grounds, and he could make out the sword’s blue glow in the distance.

  Angst held his hand in front of Rose to stop her.