The Ruens of Fairstone (Aeon of Light Book 2)

by Sethlen, Aron

  “Looks like you have a new best friend,” Pard says. “You seem perfect for each other, lover boy, must be your smile. Or do you think it’s your personality?”

  “Shut up.” Miles bends over and pets Maximus on his head.

  Maximus props up on his hind legs to kiss Miles on the lips.

  “I don’t know if we’re ready for that stage in our relationship yet, Maximus.”

  The dog plops back down and lets out a bellowing burp, sending funky fumes toward Miles.

  Miles twists his face and cringes as he stands, trying to hold in his breakfast from splattering all over Yitch’s floor.

  “Nice,” Pard says. “So what are you going to do now?”

  Miles waves his hand in front of his nose while stepping away from Maximus, who just flopped onto his side and went into a narcoleptic sleep. “Regain my senses after the dose of the nasty my new friend just gifted me and then finish setting up Yitch and your trial when he returns.” Miles eyes the locket in Pard’s hand. “Hey, let me hang onto all the evidence—just in case. Leave the locket and Selby’s Ruen book in my room too. That way, when Yitch or whoever comes and gets you for whatever comes next, they won’t be discovered. And don’t worry, I’ll take care of them for you.”

  Pard nods and slips all the way into the Marlow Tunnel. “Good luck, Miles.”

  “You too, Pard.”

  “And thanks.”

  Miles shrugs. “What are friends for.”

  Pard smiles, and Miles smiles back.

  “Now go,” Miles says with a wave.

  Pard presses the stone door shut and rushes away through the cool, dark passageway back to Miles’s room and then to his own to wait for the signal.

  TAKE A BOW

  Back in Pard’s room, three hours since leaving Miles in Yitch’s office, he lies on his bed after he packed most of his important things into his new backpack: light stick, Rue book of creatures, spare pair of clothes, scarf, extra sweater, cloak, wool hat. Even though he’s hoping Miles comes through with the trial, Pard realizes it may not go as planned, and he better be prepared to be escorted straight out of Fairstone. So he decided it’s best to have everything ready to go. Pard rolls onto his side and stares at his parents’ portrait. A pit in his stomach aches. It hits him there’s no way he can take the painting with him, and this might be the last time he ever sees their faces. Pard forces a smile and sighs, and then a knock on the door snaps him out of his moment.

  Pard stares at the door, the signal. He clinches and opens his fists. “Get your mind right, Wenerly.” Pard glances at his parents’ painting one last time and nods goodbye. “The truth comes out today—mother, father, today is your day.”

  “Pard,” Professor Videl says, “are you in there? It’s urgent, open the door.”

  Pard calmly slings his pack. “Coming, professor.” He looks at his boots for a few seconds and gathers his thoughts. “Today is the day.” Pard opens the door.

  Professor Videl, frantic and with worry etched on his face, steps into the bedroom. “I’m sorry to bother you, Pard.”

  “What is it, professor? What’s wrong?”

  “I must ask you to come with me to the cathedral. There’s been a special session of the council called in relation to your hearing the other day.”

  “Is something a matter?” Pard says, trying to act surprised.

  The professor shakes his head. “I don’t know yet. All I know is the headmaster requested you be there immediately, and there is new evidence to be presented to the committee and student body.”

  Pard’s shoulders slump, and he lets out a desperate sigh. “That doesn’t sound good.”

  “No, no it didn’t. But like last time, my boy, innocence will prevail, and your alibi is as sound as the sturdy walls of Fairstone. I wouldn’t worry if I were you.” His eyes narrow, scanning Pard’s backpack. “New pack?”

  “Yes, sir, birthday present.”

  “Very good, very good indeed, looks nice, you must have a good friend.”

  “I do.”

  “Sure is better than lugging around all those books like you’ve been doing lately. Were you planning on leaving the castle?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You answered the door with your backpack on your shoulder—seems like you were heading somewhere.”

  “Right, I was going to the library to study for terms. I’ll bring my stuff with me just the same and go straight there after the council meeting.”

  The professor rests his hand on Pard’s shoulder as he gives him kind eyes. “Good thinking, way to stay positive and motivated. I’m sure this meeting is only a formality and nothing more. I bet it will be a lot less dramatic this time.”

  Pard twists his face. Don’t count on it. “I, umm, bet that too.”

  The professor leads Pard to the cathedral, and they enter through the giant oak doors.

  Chatter and the energy of the vast room hit Pard immediately as he passes through the precipice. The cathedral is filled, seemingly even more so than his previous trial. All eyes in the room find him.

  Pard gulps and glances nervously around the vast space, and again, there is Eeva and Alexa, with Star and Penter both standing on either side of them. Pard steps onto the crimson carpet and eyes the stage. Yitch and the rest of the council sit behind the ancient table, but this time there are four of the town’s guards standing at the back of the stage with arms crossed. Guess Yitch took the whole murder Miles thing seriously. That’s good, sort of. Pard glances away from the stage, and there she is standing by a private side door reserved for special attendees, Selby.

  Selby gives Pard a slight smile of hope, warming his heart and giving him courage. Then Pard’s eyes fall onto the mayor standing next to her, and with two towering mean-looking constables in brown uniforms standing on either side of him. The mayor scowls as he sees Pard and Selby smiling at each other. The mayor’s gaze snaps away from Pard and lands on his daughter, and he gives her a dirty look.

  Selby’s face straightens.

  But Pard continues to keep his eyes locked on Selby as he makes his way past the pews and to his spot in front of the stage.

  “Here we are,” the professor says, patting Pard on the back as they reach the corded off area. “Positive, my boy, chin up, innocents will rule the day.”

  “Yes, sir, thank you.”

  “No problem.” The professor coughs clearing his throat as he limps up the stairs and to his spot behind the table.

  Yitch gives Pard the evil eye and a devious grin, like a vulture ready to pick apart Pard’s flesh from his rotting corpse. The headmaster slowly rises from his throne and dramatically raises his mallet high in the air for all to see. Striking the walnut table three times, Yitch yells, “Silence!”

  The audience takes their seats, and the room goes still.

  Yitch glides out from behind the table and paces back and forth on the stage. Yitch suddenly points his mallet at the scribe at the end of the stage. “Take note—the Fairstone council, on this day of Thursday the 20th of November, reconvenes on the matter of Pard Wenerly and the murder of Nero Yitch. Significant evidence has recently come to light which called for an immediate resumption of the trial. An old witness would like to speak and elaborate on his testimony.” Yitch points his mallet toward the cathedral entrance and the oak doors dramatically swing open. “Lord Miles Marlow, son of Lord of the Latvin, would again like to add to his testimony.” Yitch waves his mallet, and his crimson robe flaps. “Please, Lord Marlow, come to the front and give your statement.”

  Miles, with head held high, confident, struts down the aisle, loving the attention, as everyone’s eyes fall upon him in eager anticipation. Miles reaches the front of the cathedral and stands next to Pard.

  Yitch squints at Miles, expecting him to climb up on stage. The headmaster slightly flicks his head toward the witness chair. “Lord Marlow, wouldn’t it be better for you to come up here where it’s safe and away from the accused?”

 
Miles grins. “I got this, don’t worry, headmaster.”

  “Irregular, quite irregular.” Yitch faces the audience. “Lord Marlow shall now recant his alibi for Pard Wenerly on the night in question.”

  The audience gasps and loud chatter ensues.

  “Quiet!” Yitch pounds his mallet on the table. “Let Lord Marlow speak and be heard.”

  The cathedral falls silent, and Miles swings off his backpack containing all the evidence. Miles spins around like a seasoned showman and directly faces the student body and the other attendees. “Fairstone, I, Lord Miles Marlow have a grave secret to reveal to you all today. A secret that will shock you, and you will question your being here at this fine school. It will shake you to your core, deep in your bones, deep in your bowels, and you’ll never be the same.”

  Yitch, loving the dramatic flair, elongates his neck as he stares at Miles priming the audience for his victory. Yitch grins in a way that makes him look unreal, almost grotesquely gargoylish, and he squeezes the head of his mallet with his boney hand.

  Pard lowers his head and hides his face as he gives a little uncontrollable giggle, never hearing Miles speak with such dramatic flair in his voice.

  “This secret I will reveal to you, has been hidden from you under a veil of deception for years. But first, let me tell you a short story, a story about a loving family that once lived here at Fairstone.” Miles turns toward Pard. “Pard Wenerly, Peter Wenerly, and Dora Wenerly.” Miles opens his arms wide like a preacher, and he slowly spins in a circle. “Pard’s parents were professors here in this glorious institution of higher learning known as Fairstone—teaching within these walls of ancient wisdom. Some say this is the greatest school in all of Vetlinue, but there was something rotten stewing within these walls many years ago.” He lowers his arms and looks at Pard again. Miles’s face stiffens, and he frowns. “A rot that would steal my friend, Pard Wenerly, of all he had. And leave two wonderful teachers, who were loving parents, dead. And this rot, this rot is still here to this very day!”

  Some in the audience whisper and gasp.

  Alexa, not as delusional as Yitch, sees exactly what’s going on. She rubs her wary eyes in frustration and clinches her teeth.

  Eeva, also sensing the moment as she has so many times before, eyes Alexa waiting for the signal.

  Alexa raises her head high and turns to Eeva, then gives her the look.

  Eeva nods, then she eyes Star and Penter, directing them to the front of the cathedral, one taking up position on either side of the stage.

  Yitch’s head twitches hearing Miles’s story, and his anticipation shifts to confusion.

  Miles says nothing for a few seconds, he paces as Yitch would, building the dramatic effect and letting the audience hang on his every word and movement, waiting with bated breath for the ultimate punch-line, though Miles knows, unlike Yitch, the audience is now hanging on every one of his words, which holds much more weight. Miles suddenly shoots his arms out wide. “One thousand years ago my family built this school! I grew up attending Fairstone, living within these grand guarded walls of knowledge, and now I’m sickened by them. To think some of those responsible for my friend’s parents’ deaths are currently living with us, right now, under these very walls—”

  The audience shifts restlessly in the pews, and feet and butts shuffle.

  “The thought is truly revolting.”

  Yitch leans forward in his throne, and he gestures toward Miles. “Lord Marlow, is this really necessary? This has nothing to do with the trial of Pard Wenerly in the matter of Nero Yitch nor the recanting of your previous testimony.”

  “Oh, but it does, headmaster!” Miles removes Selby’s Ruen book and points it at the scribe. “Let the record note the first exhibit I would like to present is a Ruen book. Some of you in the audience might not know what a Ruen text is, but my friend Pard does, as did his mother, Dora Wenerly. Dora studied and taught the ancient language, and had several of these extremely rare and valuable books in her possession, and someone within these castle walls knew this fact and took advantage of the situation. This book I hold before you is none other than his mother’s book, and in the back pages it depicts this fact. Which also firmly establishes the current ownership of this book as Pard Wenerly. And this book, which I hold in front of you this very day, was stolen by those who murdered Pard Wenerly’s parents.” Miles spins on his toes and points the book at the mayor. “A book found in the house of none other than Greysin's own mayor, Mayor Barrow!”

  Several boys stand up and point at the mayor. Others gasp.

  In shock, the mayor wobbles backward.

  Yitch pops out of his throne and opens his arms in protest. “This is preposterous!”

  “Arrest him!” a tall boy says.

  “Yeah!” another boy says.

  Selby turns around and stares her father directly in his eyes. “Is it true, Father?”

  The mayor’s head twitches, overwhelmed by the suddenness of the unexpected moment. His face turns even redder than normal and his cheeks and jowls jiggle as his mind tries to wiggle out of the situation. “Why no, this is ridiculous, dear, it’s just some boy making up blasphemous stories to ruin my reputation.” With all the political pride and delusion he can muster, the mayor defiantly raises his head and steps forward toward the audience. He raises his hand. “This is defamatory and all untrue. I had nothing to do with the deaths of Peter and Dora Wenerly.”

  Miles glares. “Then explain how this Ruen book was found within your home if you didn’t get it from the murderers of Pard’s parents?”

  “I-I got it as a gift.”

  “Father?” Selby says, trying to get the mayor to look at her, though he avoids her gaze.

  “I did not do this thing,” the mayor mumbles, in a daze and looking over the crowd at no one but the far wall.

  “Father?”

  The mayor looks down at her, and there it is, Selby can see the truth in his eyes.

  “I can’t believe you. How could you?”

  “I-I, I—”

  Selby shoots a look at the guard standing next to him. “Well, are you going to just stand there all stupid-like or do something?” Selby steps away from her father.

  The mayor tilts his head to the side. “Please, Selby, it was an accident, no one was supposed to get hurt.”

  “How could you?”

  The guard on the mayor’s left looks at the guard on the right, both confused and looking for the answer from the other.

  “Please, you have to believe me, I’m your father, I would never—”

  “You are no longer my father.” Selby turns her back on the mayor.

  The guards step forward as it is now clear the mayor was involved in the deaths of the Wenerlys. They each grab one of the mayor’s arms.

  Miles grins then whispers, “One down, one to go.” Miles slips his hand into his backpack and holds up Dora’s golden Ida necklace. “And now, before all of you fine people, one conspirator has admitted his guilt, but still another lurks in the shadows, one living within these very walls who had a mighty part to play that terrible day. And out of sheer arrogance or compulsion, he couldn’t help himself but display his treachery and this necklace in his office in the open for all to behold the crime he committed, and got away with—until now!” Miles turns with a flourish toward Yitch and points. “Headmaster Yitch!”

  Yitch extends out his arm the same as the mayor did, and he backs away from his throne, wings spread wide. “No, no, I did none of these things, I’m innocent!” The headmaster eyes the necklace with the same delusion as the mayor did the audience. “That’s my locket, you stole it! I got it from—from—Ardinia ten years ago.”

  Pard shakes his head and scowls. “No, the necklace is mine, and my mother’s.”

  Miles lowers the necklace. “Of course you would make up a lie, headmaster. But on the back it reads GVV, the initials of Pard Wenerly’s great grandmother, and this one of a kind necklace is also portrayed around the neck of Dora
in the portrait of her hanging on Pard Wenerly’s bedroom. Just like the ancient Ruen book, which is the only one known in existence, as is this necklace, and both were stolen from Dora Wenerly on the night of her murder.”

  Professor Ames and Videl both stand up at the same time and scowl at Yitch.

  Professor Videl gestures to a constable and then to the headmaster.

  Yitch flaps his arms but he doesn’t fly away.

  The constable follows the professor’s command and grips Yitch’s arm.

  “No—let go of me!” Yitch squirms and continues to flap, his robe fluttering with every erratic movement.

  Pard steps out of the box and points at Yitch. “Why, why did you kill them?”

  “I didn’t kill them, Wenerly.”

  “Then how did they die?”

  Yitch doesn’t respond. The headmaster just sneers at Pard while holding his pointy chin and beak-like nose high in contempt. Yitch’s thin lips pucker in defiance.

  Half the audience stands and points and chats while the other half sits in a befuddling shock.

  Miles takes in his historic, epic victory, a satisfied grin plastered on his face, he surveys the chaotic seen he created. The cathedral buzzing with energy and movement, Miles bows to his audience. “I rest my case.”

  SCORCHED STONE

  Pard pats Miles on the back. “Impressive, barrister, congratulations on your first victory.”

  “You know, I think I might have found my new calling, Lord Miles Marlow, barrister.”

  “Well, if I ever need a lawyer again, now I know who to call.”

  Miles hands Pard his Ruen book and locket. “I believe these are yours, good sir.”

  Pard smiles and slides them into his pack. “I can’t thank you enough—for all you’ve done.”

  Miles waves him off. “It was nothing—would’ve done it for anyone.”

  Pard chuckles. “No, you wouldn’t.”

  “Right, I wouldn’t—but I did this time, so lucky for you.”

  Pard watches on as the professors direct the boys out of the cathedral. “Yes, lucky me.” He turns away from the student body and back toward the stage and to Yitch. “What do you think they’re gonna do with him?”