The Ruens of Fairstone (Aeon of Light Book 2)

by Sethlen, Aron

  “What kind of missions?” Pard says.

  “Invasion preparation.”

  “Invasion?” Miles says.

  “Yes, I believe so, but that’s just a guess. But anyway, back to Yitch. The headmaster didn’t realize how valuable you were, at least not at first. But then his greedy nature took over, and he found out and then changed the terms. The price went from him paying Alexa, to Alexa paying him, then Alexa paying him a lot.”

  “We know,” Pard and Miles say in unison.

  Penter’s eyes narrow. “Anyway, she easily agreed to pay, knowing Pard’s value to Iinia and the Acue. But once Lord Marlow came to your rescue a few days ago and got you off with an alibi, then Yitch begged for Alexa to take you for no payment, and allow us full access to the castle to remove you. But Alexa’s a professional and wasn’t going to rip you out of one of the finest schools in all of Vetlinue and make a mess of things. Yitch had to deliver you outside of the safety and eyes of Fairstone. The Acue isn’t in the habit of making a scene or causing overt trouble, but if one is created that they can’t control, they have a way of eliminating all the witnesses that get or got in the way. That is how they operate, all or nothing. But they weren’t about to destroy a thousand-year-old school and dispose of the children from the most influential families in Bastin unless it was a last resort. But then Yitch failed to deliver you the second time, and even worse, he exposed Alexa and Eeva in the open for who they are—not good—not good at all.”

  “And what about you?” Pard says. “Why are you here with them?”

  “Hmm, how should I put this? I’m what you’d call a deserter.”

  Miles’s face scrunches. “A deserter, like from the army?”

  “In a way—but I think of it more like a deserter from forced bondage. I was recently acquired a year ago of not of my own free will by the Iinian Dreg Army. After much resistance on my part during my first few months of capture—” Penter rocks his head side to side, “attempting to escape, I realized my efforts were futile. So I put my talents to work and submitted myself to my captors will. Lucky for me my competition in the Dregs was a bunch of reject soldiers, criminals, and the uneducated. This made it easy for me to rise above them quickly and get a placement in the surveillance and survey corp. That was three months ago. Since they were desperate for Dregs with a brain and experience, here I am. They assigned me to a Bastin attachment to an Iinian and Dreg team to survey the coastal and near inland Bastin cities. Lucky for me, the Dregs are also attached to many side missions needing extra personnel.” Penter winks at Pard. “You, kid, are a side mission for the Iinian government. I volunteered to be on Alexa’s crew to help in your apprehension—so I could escape.”

  “They were willing to destroy the school just for me to work for them,” Pard says to himself.

  “From my experience, they recruit every known seeros, but if it goes wrong, they quickly switch from recruitment to containment to extermination. You, kid, were to be recruited by Iinia as an agent, or at least potentially trained as one if you freely submitted yourself and didn’t cause any trouble. But after the cathedral, and Alexa and Eeva and you being exposed in front of all those witnesses, then the destruction of one of the most prestigious schools in all of Vetlinue—” Penter chuckles. “Now you’re in the contain and exterminate and clean up the mess category. From my experience about that category, they have unlimited resources and will never stop hunting you until the threat is eliminated.”

  “Then that makes it even more important that we get to my father’s realm,” Miles says. “They won’t be able to touch you there.”

  Pard nods.

  Penter chuckles again. “They can touch you anywhere. Though you’re right, Latvin will be the safest for both of you, but also where they expect you to hide.”

  “Both of us?” Pard says. “Why would they be after Miles?”

  “He’s now a witness and an accomplice, both to Iinia’s presence here and to what Alexa is. I imagine that’s what Alexa and Eeva are doing this very moment, cleaning up all of Greysin's ‘witnesses.’”

  “What do you mean—cleaning up?” Miles says, narrowing his eyes and leaning forward.

  “I mean wiping out all the witnesses that saw or are connected to your theatrics in Fairstone's cathedral today, and whoever sees them tonight. So, pretty much everyone at Fairstone and in Greysin will be sterilized. A total mess and the Acue won’t be pleased.”

  “Sterilized? You mean killed?” Pard says.

  Penter scowls and glances at the fire. “I imagine so—wouldn’t be the first time.”

  A streak of horror washes over Pard’s face, and he leaps to his feet. “Selby!”

  “Sit, kid, don’t be stupid,” Penter says, pointing at Pard.

  “Miles, we have to see if she’s all right or warn her.”

  “Sit, Wenerly, before you get yourself killed. You go out there right now with Alexa and Eeva and their other minions on the prowl and you’re done for.”

  Miles stands and looks at Penter. “If we leave, are you going to stop us?”

  Penter scowls, glances away, and doesn’t answer.

  Realizing Penter isn’t stopping them, Pard stares at Miles. “You coming?”

  Miles nods. “Let’s go.”

  Pard slings his pack and moves toward the entrance of the cave. The light from the fire flickers off the walls as he reaches the entrance.

  “You’re making a mistake, kid,” Penter says.

  Pard clinches his teeth, clicks on his light stick, and continues forward into the dark of the night.

  A HEAVY HEART

  Pard and Miles race through the snow-covered path weaving through the thick evergreens.

  “She’ll be all right,” Miles says, trying to keep up with Pard sprinting ahead of him.

  Pard doesn’t say a word, his mind fixed on Selby’s face with Eeva standing in the background swinging her silver whip. Then he remembers the professor’s eyes right before Eeva’s ball of electricity enveloped him. He cringes and runs faster.

  Pard shoots out of the forest and onto the cobblestone road leading toward Greysin. Ahead, the large hill which obscures the town from view, and even though no buildings are visible, the night sky glows with an eery, unnatural orange tinge in the black backdrop. He climbs the hill and at the top, skids on the ice, staring at the sleepy resort town for the privileged on the shores of the majestic lake, fully a blaze, engulfed in towering flames and smoke, small orange orbs from Eeva’s whip streak through the streets. “No…”

  Miles skids next to him and sways to balance himself on the ice. He sighs, a loss for words.

  Pard clinches his teeth and sprints down the hill and over the bridge crossing Greysin River.

  They enter the town and duck into a side street skirting the lake side of the town and come to a large white mansion, the historic home everyone in Greysin knows as Mayor House, a house as old as the town itself, the home of every residing mayor of Greysin for the last thousand years.

  Pard looks on as his face burns from the heat raging off the mansion’s stone and wood walls, the building cracks and hisses as flames and smoke billow into the black sky. His shoulders slump in defeat, a sharp pain clenches his stomach into a knot. “Selby…”

  Miles places his arm around Pard’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Pard. But remember, she’s a smart and resilient girl, she may not even be in there.” He nods, convincing himself of his own words. “I bet she wasn’t. No way, she got out for sure, I know it.”

  Boom—

  Crash—

  The right side of the mansion explodes and collapses to the ground.

  Pard and Miles both turn away at the same time and shield themselves from the pulsating, blistering heat and debris.

  Pard’s eyes water from his pain and smoke. He squints as he turns back and glares at the mansion burning to the ground.

  Miles tugs Pard’s arm, one of Eeva’s orange balls of light zings through a line of buildings and strikes a sc
reaming woman running away from her. “Pard, come on, it’s not safe here, we need to get the heck out of here—back to the cave.”

  Pard doesn’t budge, still staring at the mansion ablaze, blaming himself for Selby’s death. This is my fault. The school, Professor Videl, and now my love. Selby, I’m sorry.

  “Come on, Pard, we have to go.” Miles Yanks him harder until Pard’s feet move.

  Pard turns away from the mansion and his pain and Selby—dead inside—another piece of rubble to add to his Ruens of Fairstone.

  Miles drags Pard through the street, out of town, and back on the main road leading straight to Fairstone.

  Pard tilts his head to the side as they climb the hill, and yet another blow hits him, the library, perched in the center of town, once a beacon of refuge, now only a smoldering heap of glass and stone. His jaw drops not believing his eyes, and his will rushes out of his legs.

  Miles tugs Pard again. “I know you’re upset, but move your butt faster—you can at least help—if they see us we’re both dead.”

  “I’m already dead,” Pard says, lost and sad and angry and confused, his spirit and love broken.

  “Shut up, she’s still alive.”

  They reach a fork in the road, the one on the left extending along the lake and into the forest, the shorter path to the cave, and the other to the right, the road winding through the forest and leading to Fairstone.

  Miles steps to the left, and Pard pulls away and steps to the right.

  “The caves this way.” Miles says.

  “I need to see the school one last time.”

  “But why?”

  “I just do.”

  Miles sighs. “Fine, but we need to make it quick.”

  They creep along the road staying in the shadows of the trees, their senses in tune to the surroundings and to any danger.

  “Hey you,” a boy’s voice says from within the pines.

  Pard jumps from the sound then he squints into the thick, black underbrush. “Who’s there?”

  A young boy, no more than ten, with blackened skin and scrapes on his face, sticks his head out of a pine bough. “Is it safe to come out? Are they all gone?” The boy’s teeth rattle from the cold and his breath visible with every shallow exhale.

  “No,” Pard says, pointing at the trees and then to Greysin on fire. “Stay hidden, and whatever you do, don’t go to town.”

  “Did someone say it was safe to come out?” another boy says.

  “No, don’t come out, stay hidden,” Pard replies.

  “But where should we go?” the young boys says, now standing in the road, arms crossed and half-frozen.

  “I don’t know,” Pard says. “I don’t know. But it’s not safe here, try to get to Wellingtin and seek shelter in the big city, then contact your parents. You need to get as far away from Fairstone and Greysin as you can.”

  “Leave Fairstone?” a new boy says from the other side of the road.

  “Safe?” still another boy says.

  Pard lowers his head, unable to speak, and walks away from the boys and toward Fairstone castle. “What have we done, Miles?”

  “We did nothing. It was Yitch and whoever the hell those monsters are that did this. If I ever make it back home and to my father, I swear on my ancestors I’ll have my revenge on any responsible.”

  They reach the iron gate embossed with the falcon and push it open and the hinges squeak.

  Pard moves forward and the castle stands before him, silent, flames extinguished from lack of fuel and the steady snow, all left is a smoldering skeleton of stone. The bodies of dead Fairstone boys and professors litter the grounds.

  Both Miles and Pard stand side by side and stare at their once glorious home.

  “I can’t believe I’m seeing this,” Miles says. “Fairstone is gone, Pard.”

  Pard doesn’t say a word as he stares where is room once was, the roof gone and the window missing.

  “Whom do we have here?” a skinny man with wild curly hair, wearing a black Dreg uniform, and a white fur coat says, tapping his sword nonchalantly on his shoulder.

  Pard and Miles both spin around and face the man, then both creep backward at the same time.

  The man approaches with evil intentions in his eyes. “Would you be the Pard Wenerly we’re looking for out here while freezing our balls off?”

  “No!” Pard and Miles both say in unison.

  “Hmm, that’s interesting.” He swings his bloodstained sword off his fur shoulder and points the tip at Miles. “Because I thought I just heard you—” and then he swings his sword and points the tip at Pard, “call him, Pard. So you aren’t Pard Wenerly?”

  “No!” both Pard and Miles say at the same time.

  “Shame, because my orders are to kill anyone other than Pard Wenerly. So you say you aren’t the Pard I’m looking for?”

  “Yes!” Miles says.

  “No!” Pard says.

  The man puckers his lips. “Guess I’ll just have to take you both back to the boss women running this shit show and let them sort you boys out.”

  The ten-year-old boy who stopped Pard on the road emerges from the shadows. “Can we follow you to wherever you’re going?”

  In a panic, Pard waves his hand. “No, run, he’ll kill you!”

  The skinny Dreg scowls and glares at the little boy then raises his sword.

  An older boy emerges from the shadows, then another, and another, and another.

  The Dreg’s scowl and fierce aura transitions to a blank face.

  Another boy emerges from the dark forest.

  The man’s eyes dart from boy to boy the closer they get, too many to count. He turns square toward the oncoming boys and away from Pard and Miles.

  Miles’s eyes widen with rage and the rest of his face transforms into a mask of a warrior staring down his mortal enemy. He draws his dagger fixed to his belt. “This is for Professor Videl.”

  “Huh?” The man turns around meeting Miles’s dagger, piercing deep into his belly.

  “Ra—ra—ra—!” the boys scream in a thunderous fighting charge. Running crazed through the snow-covered courtyard, they close the distance between them and the man. They swing long sticks wildly and wield large jagged rocks raised above their heads ready to pound anything that comes close to their wrath.

  Miles retracts his blade and he and Pard step away. “Take that, scum!”

  The Dreg, slightly hunched over, presses his hand over his wound. He gulps and looks up turning toward the oncoming boys charging.

  Pard continues backing away.

  The man tries to lift his heavy sword, but he’s to weak from Miles’s blow.

  Fairstone’s boys descend on the man in a wave of pain and fury. Screams of horror release into the night sky as he disappears beneath the swinging sticks and pounding rocks.

  Pard glances at Miles, who hasn’t moved.

  Miles watches as Fairstone’s boys pummel the Dreg well past death.

  “Come on, Miles, let’s get out of here.”

  Miles spits on the ground and turns away. “Back to the cave?”

  “I guess so.” Pard briskly walks past the rest of the castle and courtyard and greenhouse and toward the forest. Every few steps he glances to the side and back at the castle, and of what’s left of his corner and window on the fourth floor. Again he’s reminded of all he’s lost, and doesn’t know where he’ll go next, and Selby. Pard sighs with a heavy heart as his heavy boots trudge through the wet snow.

  “Snap out of it and move!” Miles says to Pard well behind him, “You’re not dead yet and she’s still alive and all this shit isn’t your or my fault—it was just a mansion on fire, it doesn’t mean someone was inside.”

  “You don’t know if she was.”

  “And you don’t know either, so she’s alive, now move your ass, some of those Iinian goons are still lurking in these woods and we need to get back to the cave. If it makes you feel any better, at least you don’t look like a circus idiot w
ith black marks tattooed on your face by a madman with a nervous twitch—so quit your moping and complaining and whining and get pissed and move instead.”

  Pard crawls up the scree field, and the faint glow of the fire inside the cave seeps out of the opening.

  Miles bends over and enters the cave followed by Pard.

  Penter is sitting, leaning against the rock wall, legs extended and crossed, and he holds a silver pocket watch in his lap with the case open. He’s entranced, his eyes fixed on the inside cover and doesn’t look at the boys as they enter. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

  Miles scoffs and plops down onto his butt next to the fire.

  Pard doesn’t respond and moves to the opposite side of the cave and sits, leaning his body against the smooth rock. He pulls his knees in tight and sways back and forth.

  Penter raises the pocket watch in front of him and clinches his teeth tight as he snaps the dented silver case shut. “That’s what I thought—get some sleep.”

  SLAVE DRIVER

  The next morning, Pard wakes to Penter smothering the fire with his boot.

  “Get up, kid, it’s time we leave this forsaken town.”

  Pard sits up and wipes his sore, crusty eyes. He glances at Miles still asleep.

  Penter nudges Miles’s butt with his boot, smearing a grey ash stain on his brown wool pants. “Wake up, Lord Marlow.”

  Miles groans and sits up. He yawns and stares at the cave wall.

  Pard gathers his things in his pack, and Miles breaks out bread and leans against the rock.

  Penter slings his backpack. “Wake up means were leaving now, your lordship, so you can eat as we move.”

  Miles rolls his eyes, stands, and glances at Pard. “Slave driver him, eh?”