by Chase Erwin
“I did,” said the third student. Ricken folded his arms again.
“Ezad. You were told the fangfish was to be divided equally among the three of you, so why, after the cooking had completed, did I find a large portion of unused fish thrown in the trash?
“I don’t know, sir,” Ezad said. The way his eyes shifted as he spoke immediately told me he was lying. Ricken picked up on it too.
“Hogwash,” Ricken spat. “You were trying to sabotage Mirage.”
“What? Sir, that’s not” –
“I’ve had each instructor tell me they’ve noticed you picking on her, removing items from her tables, even turning the flame off her cooking stations. And for what? To get an edge on the competition? Or is it that you just plain don’t like horned fae?”
Ezad wrinkled up his nose. We obviously had an answer.
“There is no place for that kind of behavior in my kitchens!” Ricken smashed his hand on the nearest cooking station, causing burners and empty pots to rattle. Everyone, myself included, jumped. “Because of your desire to one-up your teammate, you hastily chopped up a fish, rupturing the venom sac, and exposing us all to a potential catastrophe!”
As Ricken continued to admonish the students, my pulse began to quicken. I looked out into the seating area of the theatre.
Every seat was filled. Encased in blue mist, the ghosts of Antareus and the victims of my potion-induced violence were seated, stony-faced, looking at me.
“We are not at rest,” they all said.
I sucked in my breath. “Go away,” I muttered. “Just go away!”
“We can’t,” they said. “We are not at rest.”
“Abel?” I could barely hear Ricken.
“You are our connection,” Antareus said, “between this world and the next.”
“Abel!”
A piercing, screeching noise entered my head, disrupting everything else – my vision, the sounds of Ricken and the ghosts.
I yelled in pain as the screeching gave way to another dark, evil laugh. Who was that? He sounds so familiar, but…
There was the feeling of a hand grabbing onto my shoulder, trying to yank me backward. It felt as if I was falling.
I grunted as I connected with one of the kitchen stations, knocking off all the pots and pans. The sound of the clattering plus landing on the floor broke me out of the trance I seemed to be in.
“Abel! Great Mother in heaven, are you okay?!” Ricken came running up to me. He knelt down to examine me.
“I think so…” I looked around. The students were gone. “Where’d…?”
“I dismissed them about five minutes ago,” Ricken said. “Abel, what in the world was going on? You were just standing there, like you were frozen.”
I struggled to respond. It was difficult even to explain to myself what had just happened.
Ricken frowned. “Do you think I pushed you into this too soon?”
“No, no,” I said. “The Winds of Andusk think the Ravens are trying to clear my mind of what happened. They think there’s still some sort of mental connection between me and them.”
“Those damn Ravens,” Ricken muttered as he helped me to my feet. “Let’s get you to your room.”
I didn’t notice that he held my hand each step of the way to his office, through his access door to the private room in the dormitory. I was too busy trying to sort out the latest cryptic message from my dead brother.
My room was sparsely but tastefully decorated. There were a few framed pictures of table settings on the walls. At the far corner of the room was a simple, single-person bed with a standard-issue set of sheets and blankets. There was an empty bookshelf on every wall.
Ricken helped me to the small, upholstered couch across from the bed.
“I’m sorry if I scared you,” I said. “I can’t predict when these things will happen.”
“It’s alright,” Ricken said. He brushed a lock of my hair back. It made me shiver. “I know there’s still a lot to learn about each other but… I am drawn to you. And I want you to be safe. I want to do whatever I can to help you stay that way.”
I smiled softly. “When I figure out how you can do that, I’ll be sure to let you know.”
He was still holding my hand. He looked down at it, then at me, then back to my hand. He kissed it softly.
I gulped. Tears welled up in my eyes. I really wanted to ask him to kiss me properly, but he and I both sensed now was not the time.
“You get some rest,” Ricken said, releasing my hand and straightening up. “Whatever is going on, you, me, the Winds – we’ll figure out a way to make it work out.” He turned for the door.
“Good night, Ricken,” I said, silently wishing he would stay.
“Good night, Abel,” he said, turning the knob and exiting my room.
My head still felt dizzy, from conflicting feelings of fear, confusion, and now… care. I didn’t know if I could call it love at that point. Infatuation, maybe… but certainly there was care. Hopefully, with time, it would develop into love.
I went to bed that night, and for many nights thereafter, holding a pillow to my side, pretending it was Ricken, and bidding him goodnight before falling asleep.
8. First Date
The six-week Springfall term dragged terribly.
It wasn’t that I didn’t like the work – I was in my element and helped teach technique and skills to Ricken’s students.
Time seemed to pass very slowly since Ricken and I decided it was best if we stayed as professional as possible until school dismissed for the summertime. Then, we agreed, we could begin dating officially.
Grading exam papers took just a little bit longer than it should have, due in no small part to the fact that every time Ricken entered his office, I’d look up at him from the sofa and get lost in those eyes. Or, I would listen to him dictate letters and notes to his secretary, close my eyes, and just listen to the sound of his voice.
That was almost enough to wash away my troubles – but not quite. Every few nights, as soon as I closed my eyes, I would remember another ghastly thing I had done to other prisoners while under the influence of the Ravens’ constant experimentation.
If I stayed asleep long enough to dream, I would envision gory, bloody scenes involving someone new; some unfortunate soul who had been placed in the same cell as a mutated, bloodthirsty creature. I hesitated to call them memories, but then, later, I’d see the ghost of my victim while dressing for school, or while walking across the campus – their mere presence confirming what I saw was not simply just a nightmare.
I didn’t dare tell Ricken about each dream. I was certain that after a few constant days of that, he would want nothing to do with me any longer.
The night before the term ended, we were staying late at the college, putting away utensils and cookware, when Ricken cleared his throat several times.
“A-Abel,” he began, tugging at his collar nervously. “Uh, with school over for the year, I… I’ve been thinking a lot about that agreement we made.”
“Mmhmm?” I didn’t look at him but focused on folding the linen tablecloths in the proper left-right-over-under tuck ready for storage.
“Do you… do you not want to go through with it?”
I snapped to attention, sure I was mishearing. “Say what?”
“Well, I had just realized that if we do pursue a relationship, the Guild would frown upon you continuing to work for me. I’d… I’d have to replace you as assistant.”
“Ohh.” I folded the last tablecloth and crossed past Ricken to the linen closet. “Well, as nice as this job is, I’ve always really wanted to cook for a living. And I’m sure I could get a job anywhere in Galek…”
As I closed the linen closet door, there was the image of a small red goblin-like creature, his ears missing, his nose chewed to a pulp, in the glass.
“At least I think I could,” I muttered under my breath. I turned around to face Ricken. There was no sign of the goblin’s ghost.
“Let’s take a walk,” Ricken offered, thumbing towards the exit door.
The four wings of the Culinarian Guild’s college building formed a trapezoidal shape, with an open-air arboretum in the center. The green area had just been set up to house the graduation ceremony which would be held over the weekend. Paper lanterns dangled on wires strung out across the area. They were all unlit.
As we walked into the pitch-black arboretum, Ricken reached up to the first lantern, put his hand inside, and with the flick of his fingers, a flame puttered to life inside.
I watched in reserved amazement as he took a large breath and blew at the lantern. One by one, every lantern began to flicker with candlelight.
Crickets began to chirp happily as the soft orange light bathed everything Ricken and I could see. We were the only ones there. It was as if this night had been made just for us.
He took both of my hands, running a thumb over each one.
“Abel,” he said. “Would you do me the honor of accompanying me to Breezeport tomorrow night? As my date?”
The heat in my cheeks was intense. My breath was reserved; I had to remember how to inhale and exhale.
“Ricken… I would love to,” I said. It felt so strange to smile as slowly and as broadly as I was.
A few seconds of silence passed, punctuated only by the occasional cricket chirp.
“Breezeport,” I eventually said. “That’s a 20-mile trip. When were you planning on leaving?”
“Well, I have to be here for the graduation,” Ricken said, “so, I guess immediately afterward?”
I did the math in my head, and realized… “That would mean getting into town by 7 or 8 o’clock. It would have to be… an overnight trip.”
Ricken nodded as he began to blush. “Yes. Um, I thought we would stay at this little inn I heard about. It only holds one couple at a time, but they provide a full four-course dinner. And the beds – there’s two single beds, but they can be pushed together… and honestly, Abel… nothing would make me happier if we could just put them together, so I could hold you until we fell asleep. Would you be okay with that?”
The blood was pounding in my head. I bit my lower lip. I nodded.
“I think after all you’ve been through, you could use some peace and quiet, and I would love to be the one to provide it to you,” Ricken continued.
I swallowed the saliva that had built up in my mouth. “I think that’s a wonderful idea,” I said.
The next day’s graduation ceremony seemed as tedious and drawn-out as I recalled my own was.
Ricken made a speech, followed by each of the guild elders, and while I hung onto Ricken’s every word, each successive speaker was an exercise in banality.
Luckily, our guests at the table Ricken had reserved were the rest of the Winds of Andusk, and we were able to chat quietly amongst ourselves while at the same time pretending we were listening to the others.
“So, what brought you to Galek in the first place?” Ricken asked.
“I’m the local here,” Irek explained. “I wished to check in at the church and re-up my supplies.”
“And while we were here, I suggested we go ahead and scope out potential locations for our keep,” added Remi. “We need a base of operations rather than just taking up sanctuary at the first… well, the first sanctuary we come to in each town!”
“Which leads me to what I wished to speak with you about,” Beltrin said, leaning towards me. “We have been talking it over, and we would like to offer you space at our keep – wherever that might be.”
I was pleasantly surprised but couldn’t form the words.
“And if you wanted, you could even build a tavern on the property if you so choose,” Beltrin added.
“I do not know what to say,” I said, staring at the unlit candle on our tabletop. “That’s… beyond generous of you.”
“Well, consider it an open invite,” Taryn said, raising a champagne glass and sipping from it. “We think that you certainly deserve a fresh start.”
Finally, the speeches ended, and we politely sat and watched as Ricken got back on stage to hand out diplomas to the graduates. I could see he was impatiently tapping his foot – he wanted this over as eagerly as I did!
✽ ✽ ✽
Following the ceremony’s end, Ricken and I went to the back of the campus, where he had a horse-drawn vehicle waiting. We climbed in, and he quickly got the horse clopping along on the road out of Galek towards Breezeport.
“Where is it exactly we’re staying?” I asked as he made a northeasterly turn.
“It’s called Mrs. Porterhouse’s Inn,” Ricken replied. “They supposedly offer the best steaks in Londolad.” He looked at me and offered a sly smirk.
“Is that so?” I said, returning a smirk. “Obviously they’ve never had you helming the grill. I remember how you wowed Ms. Culberson in her brazier class with a perfect filet mignon in 25 seconds.”
“My word. I hadn’t thought about that day in years,” Ricken said. As he spoke, he hesitantly reached his right arm towards me. I shifted a few inches to my left, signaling to him that it was alright. He slid his arm over my back and pulled me closer to him. “I guess broiling and grilling is my specialty. But I am more than willing to let someone else cook for a change, if it gives us more time to be together.”
We spent the better part of an hour driving past little shanty towns, a few traveling bands of merchants, all the while chatting. I didn’t notice until we got closer to Breezeport, but I had sunk closer and closer into the crook of Ricken’s arm, almost clinging to him like a child would a teddy bear.
“I always looked at you like you could do no wrong,” Ricken mentioned, continuing our discussion as we got adjusted. “You really excelled in every subject during our General Studies years – do you remember that chemistry experiment in Year 8?”
I looked at him quizzically. “I… think I do?”
“You were such a whiz at blending chemicals together, and the teacher… oh, what was her name, Mrs. Tweedy? She always complained that you got started on experiments before she had a chance to give instructions.”
Ricken laughed as he continued his recollection. It was so cute, the way his nose crinkled when he laughed.
“You were still mixing these chemicals together, as she said, ‘Mr. Mondragon! You’re still mixing! I cannot believe you are continuing to mix! You’ll just keep doing what you want, won’t you, and I’ll keep pleading until I’m blue in the face!’”
I gasped as I finally realized what he was talking about. “Oh, and then I mixed in the colloidal and the mixture exploded…”
“Painting her face entirely in blue, yes!” Ricken slapped his knee with laughter as I covered my face in embarrassment.
“My gosh, I haven’t thought about that day in years,” I remarked. “I guess that’s why I transitioned into cooking – mixtures of that sort rarely end as explosively as that!”
The city of Breezeport grew out along the shoreline and had expanded over time to a few islands and peninsulas. It was bustling. Buildings of all sizes, people everywhere you looked. Lighthouses dotted the horizon, speckling white light across the purple evening waves. The smell of salt air was heavy, and as the name implied, breezing past our faces as our horse trotted through the heart of the city.
We pulled in at a stable where Ricken said we would keep the horse and vehicle overnight. “You don’t mind if we walk the rest of the way, do you?” Ricken dusted his legs and unhitched our two suitcases from the cargo hold. “I just love walking among this fresh seaside air.”
“Not at all,” I replied. “I’ve never been here before.”
“This is where I’d like to run a business someday,” Ricken said as we began continuing our way to the inn on foot. “I think it might be fun to run a seafood restaurant out on the bay. Fresh supplies every day, tourists coming from miles around to taste the best of Breezeport…”
I let him continue as we walked. It was nice to h
ear his voice, but it was also nice that he was talking to me about his hopes and dreams so soon. It was like we had been dating for months, instead of officially just a few hours.
Soon we arrived at a large, two story gabled home surrounded by a white picket fence. A wooden sign swinging off the eave of the front porch read, “Mrs. Porterhouse’s Inn: All Who Enter Here Are Warmly Welcomed.”
“Well. Shall we begin our date?” Ricken smiled. It made me tingle.
“Let’s.”
We climbed the four steps to the porch, and Ricken held open the front door as I entered, following close behind.