The Ruens of Fairstone (Aeon of Light Book 2)

by Sethlen, Aron

  “This is Alexa,” Yitch says. “She is a friend of Fairstone, and she knows exactly what you are and what you are capable of doing if roused.”

  “A pleasure to meet you, Pard,” Alexa says in a somewhat kind though manipulative voice. “I’ve heard a lot about you for quite some time.”

  “You have?”

  Alexa moves in closer to Pard. She gently grazes his shoulder but continues to circle him, her finger dragging across the length of his back.

  Pard shivers, though he tries not to show he’s uncomfortable.

  “I hear you have the light inside of you.”

  “You did?”

  “Yes, I did, and that can be problematic in this—” Alexa pauses. Her nose twitches, the scraps intended for Maximus finally making their presence known. She takes a few calculated steps away and clasps her hands in front of her waist.

  “Environment,” the other woman says, pale, black shiny hair, her black duster still hugging her fit body. The leather coat, clean but appears to have been through war many times over, though the owner can’t seem to part with it no matter how old or rough the exterior. The pale woman moves out of shadow. The flap of her duster slightly opens, and a beam of light from the window glistens off the silver whip attached to her belt. She closes in on Pard, and her beautiful yet menacing aura makes his mouth dry, and he is unable to swallow.

  Yitch nods. “And this is Eeva, Alexa’s partner.”

  “Pard Wenerly,” Eeva says in a sweet voice that is almost convincing. Eeva passes by Alexa still moving farther away from Pard and the odor. “You’re special, and you can’t grow into the man you were meant to be in this unhealthy environment.”

  “I can’t?”

  “No, you can’t.” She raises her chin in superiority. “There are better places for your kind. And when bad things happen, and people or cats start dying, they tend to discard those they fear, and not groom and harness the mighty potential they have inside of them.”

  “They do?”

  “Yes, they do, but it’s all right. If you want to leave Fairstone, we have a safe and nurturing place for you to go—where you can become the great man you were meant to be. A place that will accept you for who you are and before you hurt something other than a wretched cat.”

  “Hey, now,” Yitch says in a whiny protest.

  Alexa snaps her head toward Yitch and gives him a dirty look. “Quiet, headmaster, this does not concern you.”

  Yitch cowers and backs down.

  Pard’s eyes narrow. Yitch is scared of her. He glances back and forth between Alexa and Eeva. “Who are you?”

  Eeva leans in close to him and whispers, “We can be your best friends, or your worst enemies, that’s—” Eeva suddenly stops, and her nose twitches as she sniffs Pard’s robe. Her face stiffens. The stench finally hits her with force.

  Alexa coughs to distract Eeva. “Eeva, that’s enough. Come over here and let the headmaster do his job.”

  Suspicious, or puzzled, Eeva slowly backs away without taking her eyes off Pard. She raises her hand to her mouth and strokes her thin lips, on her ring finger, a silver ring embossed with a citrine LI. “I got my eye on you, Mr. Wenerly.”

  One of Pard’s eyebrows rises as he contemplates the threat. Who the hell are these two supposed to be? She’s got her eye on me? Is she trying to scare me? Pard rolls his eyes, clearly he’s in no danger, yet, or they wouldn’t be complimenting him and propositioning him for something. In contempt, and Miles’s influence rubbing off on Pard, he shrugs. “Okay, I got my eye on you too.”

  “Sit, Wenerly,” Yitch says, sternly pointing at the magnificently carved wooden chair in front of Pard.

  Pard moves forward and glances away from the chair, his attention firmly back on Alexa and Eeva, both shoulder to shoulder, and Alexa covering her mouth as she whispers into Eeva’s ear. Not paying any mind to where he’s going, Pard trips over his own feet and bumps into the back of the chair.

  Yitch gasps in annoyance. “Please, Wenerly, do you have to make everything such an intolerably painful experience? Sit down.”

  Pard unslings Miles’s pack and plops down in the chair.

  “Thank you,” Yitch says, exasperated and with a single nod. “Now, you’re here for me to outline what’s coming up for you in the next few days. On Tuesday, three days from now, your trial—”

  Pard leans forward and interjects. “Trial?” Shit, Hector was serious.

  “Yes, trial.”

  “I thought it was a hearing or an informal questioning.”

  “And it is, Wenerly, in the form of a trial—now may I please go on?”

  Pard sucks in a vocalized breath, paying no mind to the rotting scraps, which being apart of him long enough, they’ve deadened his senses to their presence.

  “You’re hearing which was to be held in my office has been moved. Next Tuesday in the Fairstone cathedral, your trial will begin, and evidence and testimonies will be presented before the Advisory Council. After which you may make a statement and present your case in rebuttal. Do you have any questions so far?”

  I have about a thousand questions. Like who is Alexa and Eeva and what are they doing here and what do they want with me? But I don’t think any of them are going to help me with this trial since I did kill Nero. Pard shakes his head no.

  “If you are found guilty you will be shamed and escorted off the Fairstone premises. All doors in Greysin will close to you. I will personally send letters to all schools throughout Vetlinue, informing them of the murderous and notorious Pard Wenerly and his sadistic blood lust. You will be ruined, with no future, dead to the world.”

  Pard’s heart pounds and his palms sweat. He lowers his gaze and stares at his lap, his knee jitters up and down. I’m so screwed, no school, no future, then what will I do? Be a beggar? Scurry off like a rat to the Badlands and mine coal or gold for the likes of Blaine’s father? Join the Iinian Dregs Conscription? Pard sighs.

  “Do you understand me, Wenerly?”

  Pard gulps and looks up, and he mumbles, “Uh-huh.”

  “What is that? Say again.”

  “Y-yes, I understand.”

  “Good.” Then Yitch says nothing, he sits back in his throne and stares at Pard, making Pard sweat and stew in worry for dramatic effect as he basks in victory.

  The room goes silent to Pard, every sound amplified. The air vibrates with emotion pulsating through Pard’s body. The ticking of a grandfather clock pings in his ears with every excruciating passing second. A gust of howling wind rattles the windowpane, and Pard shifts in his chair as a plume of swirling snow circles outside the glass.

  Yitch grins, seeing the concern on Pard’s face. The headmaster rubs his hands together in joy and sits up straight. “Or, Wenerly, there’s another way for you to escape your impending doom.”

  Pard’s ears perk up. Another way? Doom? No ruin? Pard swallows hard and focuses on Yitch’s every word. “What other way, headmaster?”

  Yitch slides a piece of paper with the appearance of a contract across the desk and toward Pard. “If you sign this document, releasing you from Fairstone’s obligation to you, nullifying your attendance at this school and the formal agreement that the previous headmaster set up for your education when your parents were so tragically taken from us, all the charges against you will be dropped. I will even write exaggerated letters of recommendation expounding your positives, and your future with be magically restored.” Yitch sets a golden pen with emerald banding on top of the contract. “All I need from you is your signature.” Yitch gestures toward Alexa and Eeva. “You will leave first thing tomorrow with Alexa and her people and they’ll escort you off the school grounds and provide you with adequate accommodations until you are established in a new school. Also, for your journeys, you’ll be given your parents’ savings held in the school’s treasury to be distributed to you, per will, upon your graduation, in the amount of—” Yitch glances away from Pard as he tries to remember or think of a random number. He nod
s. “Five gold.”

  Pard stares at the fuzzy words on the contract which appear to be moving as a million scenarios run rampant through his mind, all of them not good.

  Yitch clasps his hands and sits back in his throne. Reveling at the strain etched on Pard’s face as he contemplates his limited options and the box he’s now trapped in. Yitch’s eyes glaze over in an euphoric state, embracing the moment in anticipation for when Pard relents to his demands.

  Pard continues to stare at the contract. Finally, his arm and body inch toward the desk and pen. I can leave now and be all right, or, if I stay, I’m ruined—what choice do I have?

  Yitch shifts in his throne the closer Pard gets to the golden pen.

  Pard hesitates. But what would Professor Videl think of me if I sign this document? What about my mother and father? He stares deep into the grain of the wooden desk, in a far off place where Yitch doesn’t exist. But at least this way I have a way forward. Again, Pard’s hand crawls over the desk and toward the pen. Though another flicker of doubt creeps into Pard’s mind as his mother’s kind face smiling at him appears. Pard’s momentum toward the pen stalls and his fingers caress the document’s soft touch, much like the paper inside of his Ruen book.

  Yitch swallows hard and his face shifts into a grimace. The headmaster leans halfway over the desk and elongates his neck like a bird. “Do not question for a second I won’t destroy you after what you did to my Nero, Wenerly.”

  Pard stares into Yitch’s hateful eyes and can almost see his own reflection in the headmaster’s black, glassy pupils. Pard’s fingers flutter on the pen’s gold casing, and Yitch smiles.

  Why does he want me to sign my release so badly when he already has everything he needs to destroy me? Pard glances at Alexa and Eeva. Them.

  Eeva’s eyes narrow, and Alexa raises her chin.

  Pard turns in the other direction and his gaze falls onto the display case where he saw what appeared to be his mother’s Rue locket.

  Yitch purses his lips and sits up straight. “What say you, Wenerly?”

  Pard slowly turns back toward the headmaster. “I’m staying.”

  TA-DA—SURPRISE

  “So how did your meeting go?” Miles says, ambushing Pard later in the day, waiting for him on the fourth floor.

  “A lot of messed up things are going on is how it’s going. My trial is official and set for next Tuesday in the cathedral. Yitch tried to get me to sign a shady contract that releases Fairstone from the responsibility for my education and housing. Also, it would’ve sent me into the care of those two weird women we saw last night in the library.”

  Miles smiles. “Those two exotic women? Hmm, that wouldn’t be that bad.”

  Pard’s eyes narrow, his thoughts far away from Alexa’s and Eeva’s good looks, he can’t believe Miles, or maybe he can. “Is that all you think about?”

  Miles shrugs. “Well, it’s not all I think about.”

  “Anyway.” Pard waves off Miles and opens the door to his room and enters. “They aren’t from around here, maybe not even Bastin, and they know about my light. From the sound of it, they’ve known about my secret for a long time. Yitch must’ve told them last year when he saw me strike the Kingfisher out of the sky.”

  “What do you think they want with you?”

  “I don’t know. But they seem to want me to go with them, and that it would be good for me. They also threatened me, so how good can they really be?”

  “Don’t know, but if Yitch is in on it, and they’re friends with him, they can’t be good.”

  “That’s what I was thinking too. But I almost did it.”

  “Did what?”

  “Sign the document. Then I thought of my mother and the Rue neckless and I couldn’t bring myself to putting my name to it. Yitch was convincing, and serious too. If I don’t find a way out of this upcoming trial, I’m screwed big time, like totally, forever.”

  “I wouldn’t worry, your trial is still a few days away, a lot can happen in a few days. Hey, speaking of Rue, I want to show you something.”

  “Okay, show me.”

  “It’s a surprise, professor, put on your warm sweater and cloak and boots and follow me.”

  Pard and Miles pass through the great foyer of Fairstone and exit the castle through the main entrance. They descend the wide stone stares and Pard slows.

  “Will you look at that, isn’t that something?” Pard says, pointing at a small black motor buggy with an enclosed cab and bright-yellow wheels. The carriage chugs and rattles over the snow-cleared cobblestones as it passes through the tall iron gate leading into the Fairstone grounds. The buggy continues up the main driveway and arcs around the circle in front of the castle and parks at the bottom of the stairs.

  Miles shrugs. “My father has four motor buggies like that, only better. He got them last year.”

  “I’ve only seen a few last summer,” Pard says. “I wish I could ride in one—looks fun.”

  “Yeah, it’s all right, I guess.” Miles skips down the stairs and slaps the buggy’s back metal box compartment with his palm.

  The buggy rocks back and forth and the driver’s side door opens. The portly man inside shifts his heavy weight and the springs of the buggy creak, then he wiggles out of the carriage.

  Pard tilts his head to the side as he thinks he recognizes the back of the mayor’s head.

  “Nice buggy,” Miles says, slapping the box again. “Almost as nice as my father’s—at least the worst of the lot he owns.”

  “Don’t touch the paint—” Mayor Barrow says, turning around. He glares at Miles with disdain.

  Pard skips down the stairs and hides his face.

  Miles shrugs, smirks, and pats the buggy’s side door.

  The mayor scowls, and then it suddenly transitions as something comes over him. “Lord Marlow.”

  Miles winks at the mayor and contorts his hand into a gun and points it at the mayor. “Mayor.”

  “Yes, yes, good day to you, Lord Marlow.” The mayor rounds the back of the buggy and ascends the stairs up to Fairstone.

  Miles bows in a mocking way. “And good day to you, mayor.” Miles turns away from Fairstone and runs after Pard who is already passing through the Fairstone main gate leading out of the school grounds. “Hey, wait up.”

  Pard doesn’t slow.

  Miles jumps past Pard and slides on the icy road. Miles does a twirl in front of Pard like a figure skater and comes to a stop with arms open wide. “Ta-da.”

  Pard shakes his head in disgust and passes Miles without looking at him. “Why do you do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “Always messing with people and pushing the limits of what you can get away with?”

  “Umm—because I can. And you’d be surprised what I can get away with.”

  Pard snorts.

  “What?”

  “Nothing, never mind.”

  Miles skips into the lead and they veer to the right off the main road as they reach the edge of the lake. They enter a winding trail through the thick pine forest moving farther away from Fairstone and Greysin.

  Pard’s feet trudge through the deep snow rising to mid-calf. Each step a labor, but his body warms from the exertion. “Where did you say we’re going?”

  “I didn’t say,” Miles says, blazing a good ten paces ahead of Pard, his longer legs cutting through the deep snow with ease.

  The grade of the trail steepens and the pine trees thin.

  Miles breaks off to the right and leaves the trail behind. Ahead, boulders and scrubby brush and small bands of rocky outcrop poke out of the snow. The bands of rock continue to rise and widen, forming small cliffs and overhangs with sword-like icicles drooping over the edges.

  “It’s right up ahead,” Miles says. Miles points to a large overhang barren of snow underneath, big enough to fit three of the mayor’s buggies under the roof and be out of the elements. Miles steps over a wide snow berm and enters the dirt floor under the rock ceiling. He ope
ns his arms, does a spin, and looks up while nodding. “Cool, eh?”

  Pard lunges over the berm. “Yeah, nice. I’ve never been back this far in the forest. I usually just circle the lake.”

  “I found out about this place two years ago. My older brother and some of the other guys used to come up here with their girlfriends. But anyway, this morning I remembered I saw something here that might interest you.”

  “Really? So you going to tell me or keep me waiting?”

  Miles hikes up a slope away from Pard and makes for a large crack wide enough to fit inside. “The cave is right here, I think it has Ruen symbols painted on the walls. I saw a symbol in that book of yours and I was trying to think of where I saw it. Then I remembered and came out here earlier to check it out. And there it was, right on the rock face just as I remembered.”

  “Really?” Pard says, a tinge of excitement and surprise in his voice.

  “Yeah, follow me.”

  Miles wedges his way through the dark crack, and Pard follows him inside.

  “It’s right up here.”

  The cave opens into a medium-sized room with high ceilings. Periodic spots on the wall are scorched with deep black soot from many years of fires. The cave is muted, only small amounts of light seep in, but it’s enough to see the walls and each other.

  Pard examines the red-and-black petroglyphs of figures holding spears painted on the rock; and underneath, Rue letters and En symbols. “Dang, this place is really cool, thanks for showing me this, Miles.”

  “No problem. So can you read any of it?”

  “I recognize some of the symbols. See, Ruen is funny, you have to know Rue, but you also have to know what the symbol for En is and all the different meanings it may represent. The same symbol can mean one word, or an entire legend, it’s all about the context and how much language and history you know.”

  “Well, you’re the right man for the job, you know all sorts of things.”

  Pard chuckles, tracing one of the symbols and rock with his finger. “Hardly. But anyway, I think this here says the men of the Nur Clan joined forces with, umm, I’m not sure, someone else, and they fought a tyrant king who invaded their lands, and they somehow defeated him. So, I think this cave is a sacred place where they depicted their victory.”