by D P Rowell
Marty Halder: Founder of the Indies.
Ace had to swallow before he spoke, “Did this castle belong to—”
“Yep,” Rio said. “Your grandfather helped design this whole city, you know.”
The boy’s jaw hung to the floor as he turned to Rio. “How did he keep all this from his family?”
“He didn’t have to try very hard, really,” The drake said as they turned to a narrower hall. “Witches and parcels have such a strong hold on Yutara, knowledge of The Indies and what we stand for has been purposely labeled as myth and legend among the younger generations. You should know this better than anyone because most people in Eveland believe Gathara is a myth.”
“Do witches even need magic? They seem to have succeeded pretty well without it.”
Rio nodded. “Yes, they have. But they still need magic. Although, some have mastered the art of deception, there are those few that still see through their lies.” He jabbed a thumb at himself, then pointed a finger at Ace. “That’s when it’s time to take someone’s memory. If that doesn’t work . . . things can get ugly.”
Two hunters stopped them in the hall. One drake female, another male human. At this moment, Ace realized the vacancy of the castle. These hunters were the only two people he had seen since they had entered.
“Rio?” The water drake said. Scales of silver, purple, and blue layered themselves on her skin in a glittery shine. Webbed fins grew out of her elbows and spine, and closed gills wrapped the curve of her neck.
“Ihana,” Rio said. “George.” All three shared the same salute as the guards had earlier.
“W—what are you doing here?” Ihana said.
“We thought you were stationed in Oola,” George said. The man had dark brown skin, a bald head, square jaw, large muscles, and a deep voice like Rio’s. He spoke like someone from Northeeves Eveland. Those in the north didn’t pronounce their r’s, sometimes their o’s sounded more like a’s, and their e’s were almost always short.
“I was. But I’ve returned.”
“We, uh, well . . .” Ihana rubbed the fin on the back of her neck and clacked her tongue a few times. “We weren’t expecting you,” she said, a weak smile on her face.
“I know,” Rio said with no emotion in his eyes.
A moment of silence took the room, and the tension left an awkward presence.
“Who’s the pigeon?” The black man said, finally disturbing the quiet. Ace smirked, he was definitely from the Northeeves area. Pigeon was a term they used in the north to describe someone who’s lingering, unknown by others in any given group.
Rio nudged Ace along gently and began to walk further down the hall. “His name is Ace. Don’t want to be rude, but we need to go. I will return shortly. Might I request a gathering?”
“When?” George said.
Rio backed up, Ace behind him, the drake still facing the other two. “Thirty minutes. The Great Hall.”
Ihana and George looked at one another, then back at Rio. They nodded, Rio nodded back. Another salute. Rio turned and brought Ace to the end of the narrow hall. A familiar set of double doors stood at the end, but to the right of the doors, an entrance to another path stood. They opened the small door, and torches lit the walls of rough, sharp stone in a flickering light.
“Who were those people?” Ace said.
“Two of the elite. I was hoping not to run into them while we were here. But we did,” Rio said.
“How many are you?”
“The elite?”
Ace nodded.
“Five. Two drakes, three humans.”
The hallway of rough stone surrounded a winding staircase, and the further down they traveled, the more rancid the air became. Ace held his nose, and a sense of dread arose. The last time he’d seen a witch was far from pleasant. He imagined this to be no different.
“Why are you bringing me here?” Ace said. “And why do you keep witches down here?”
Rio stopped and faced him. The sound of a witch’s screech echoed from below and sent chills down Ace’s spine.
“There’s something you need to know about witches, Ace,” the drake said.
“What’s that?” He replied. His eyes jerked back and forth between the witch cries below and the drake in front of him.
“There’s a reason we don’t kill them, you know. Some of them don’t choose this path. If someone in a witch’s family is a parcel, they could be under a generational curse. If they are, they will be forced to work for the council without choice. They don’t quite know what they’re doing. Most witches have freely given themselves to the council, but we have no way of knowing which of the witches have freely chosen this life, and which have been cursed.”
Hearing this made the boy nauseous and weary. What a dreadful thing.
“Your grandfather discovered this,” Rio said. “There are rumors that some have found a way to escape their generational curse. His whole life was bent towards finding the cure. That’s why he gave the order that all hunters should capture and never kill a witch. He’s kept them here, trying various ways to cure them.”
“So, witches are just slaves of parcels?” Ace said.
“In a way, yes.”
“What do you mean, in a way?”
Louder screeches in greater, more wretched numbers crawled along the walls. The boy jumped back.
“Parcels are also slaves of the council. However, they work a little differently. We have reason to believe they are somehow chosen by the council and given some sort of offer.”
“What kind of offer?”
“Riches. Power. Fame. And slaves.”
Ace leaned in. “Witches?”
“Yes. Many times, a parcel who accepts this offer will be cursed. His daughters, and daughters’ daughters will become slaves of the council at the age of eighteen. They will lose themselves and be taken by witchcraft.”
Ace fought his eyes from welling. Such a terrible thing needed to be stopped.
“How can we find the cure?” Ace said, preventing himself from stammering through his nearly present tears.
Rio lowered his head as it shook. “We don’t know.” The drake lifted his head and faced the boy, eye to eye. “As far as we know, the only way is to defeat the council.”
Ace stepped back, and a tear spilled out of his right eye, because he knew the answer to his next question before he even asked. “And you think that’s impossible?”
Rio frowned and nodded slowly. “Yes. But we don’t have to stop there. We can still prevent the council from finding parcels. We can defeat what parcels exist now and prevent the further spread of evil in Yutara. The council only has power if the people are persuaded by their deception.”
Ace stared blankly, unsatisfied with the drake’s optimism. It wasn’t enough. It couldn’t be. He felt a stirring inside he knew stirred Grandpa before. The council had to be defeated. They had to be stopped. And though he didn’t know how yet, he knew somehow the Emerson Stone could help him do it.
“You still haven’t answered the other question,” Ace said. Rio tilted his head with curiosity. “Why are you bringing me here to see this?”
“We need to prove who you are to the elite, don’t we?” Rio said.
Ace nodded.
“Well, bringing you around these witches may confirm my suspicions. And if it does, we will have all the proof we need.”
“I’m not sure I understand what you’re getting at.”
“The witches,” Rio said, “they can’t curse you.”
Hundreds of screeches, louder and numbered greatly pierced Ace’s ears. He covered his ears, grit his teeth, and knelt until the screeching stopped.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The Witch Cellar
Ace froze with fear as the shrill screams scraped his eardrums. Had Rio lost his mind? The witches circled him, staring him down with their beady, black eyes. Drakes, humans, and jags. Hundreds of them, maybe thousands. Some of them disappeared into a black smoke and floated
through the great cellar. The gate had been locked, and Ace left inside.
How long is Rio going to leave me here?
Whispers traveled through the air. He hardly told the difference between his thoughts, or the thoughts of the witches.
Halder. Halder, he heard in his head. You can’t ssave them. It’s uselesss. Turn around. Walk away. Your grandfather couldn’t, and neither can you.
Ace ignored the voices, simply facing ahead where the cage to the cell had been shut. The floor was damp, and a foul odor crept into his nostrils. Faint whispers of names caused him to shiver. Barely audible at first, but as his pulse quickened, the whispers grew louder.
Julie. Tamara. Julie. Tamara. Julie. Tamara.
How did they know his cousins? His eyes shot open and the witches screeched and swirled around him like aggravated bees wickedly pleased at his worry.
He thinkss we don’t know. He doessn’t know.
“Know what?” Ace said.
“Ignore them!” Rio shouted from outside the cellar. “Do not speak to them or entice them. They will put lies in your head.”
The drake is the liar. The drake is the liar. The drake is the liar.
Ace closed his eyes again, clenched his sweaty palms, and fought his quivering nerves. The witches were the liars, he reassured himself.
“Ok—k—kay Rio. This obviously works! C—c—can I come out now?” Ace said. He covered his ears and knelt, for the witches erupted with sharp laughter; echoing through the cellar and ringing painfully in his head.
Rio held his AMR forward. The witches backed away from the door hissing and screeching.
Julie. Tamara. You can’t ssave them, Halder. You can’t ssave them.
Ace kept his hands over his ears. He felt the drake’s grip on his wrist and they ran outside the cellar. The door slammed shut and Rio pressed his hand on the chrome plate in the stone wall. The bars of the gate became beams of orange light, as well as the walls surrounding the cellar. The witches backed away and clustered together, moaning at the orange light.
Rio patted Ace’s back as the boy slowed his breathing. “Good job, kid.”
“You—” Ace breathed, “you’re insane.”
Rio shrugged. “Desperate times.” The drake nudged Ace up the winding staircase, “Let’s go meet the elite.”
Ace caught his breath and nodded.
What did they mean, Julie and Tamara? How did they know them? What did they mean I couldn’t save them? Ace thought.
* * *
Rio brought him to the Great Hall again, the elite stood in the middle, awaiting the drake’s arrival.
“Rio!” The female human said. She had long blonde hair pulled into a ponytail and a fragile voice to compliment her toothpick figure.
“Keele, Sebastian, good to see you both, I suppose,” Rio said. They all shared their same salute. He and Ace approached them and joined in a circle.
“Come, let’s sit,” said the male human. Ace assumed this must have been Sebastian. He had tan skin, a thick jaw, and a neatly trimmed, blonde beard. His short blond hair swirled at the top like cotton candy. The man led the elite, and Ace, through the Great Hall, and turned to open a door just before Grandpa’s portrait. It opened to a room with a long table of dark, finished wood surrounded by hoverchairs. The male gestured with his hand, offering a seat to them all.
“Who’s the tyke you’ve brought with you?” Sebastian said.
Tyke, Ace thought. Must be from Genesis or Adamsville. “My name is—” Ace was cut off.
“He’s with me,” Rio said, “that’s all you need to know for now.” The drake winked at him, and the boy followed his lead.
“Good and well,” Sebastian said, “so long as you trust him with the information we will discuss here.”
“I do,” Rio replied.
“Why’ve you come back from ya assignment in Oola?” George said.
“My assignment was a direct order from the Halder,” Rio said. Everyone looked at Sebastian. The pale man shrugged his shoulders as if he didn’t know what Rio was talking about. “The real Halder,” the drake stated.
“But you sent us a letter saying he’d passed away,” the water drake said.
“And didn’t Marty send you ta Oola?” George said.
“Yea, yea. But it was for a specific reason, and a short period of time. I realize that now,” the drake replied. “What I wanna know is why you went on to select a new Halder without my knowledge. We all have a say in Gathara’s government. Marty chose us all, not just you four.”
The other elite looked at one another, baffled and confused. “Rio,” Keele said, “you said that’s what Marty wanted.”
Rio furrowed his brow and tilted his head, “What are you talking about?”
“The letter you wrote,” Sebastian jumped in, “you said Marty Halder had passed, and a new leader will be selected for Gathara.”
“Yes, a new leader has been selected! You misread,” the drake said, his voice growing fiercer.
The four of them went on back and forth. Unfortunately, no one had the original letter in writing, which made Rio even angrier. Sebastian had been selected as the new Halder, and sworn in, regardless of what the letter said. But Rio persisted.
“Look, Rio. It’s well and good you and Marty were close, but he never had a chance to choose you,” Sebastian said. “I’m sorry . . . it’s just the way things have panned out.”
Rio slammed his hand on the table and stood to his feet, “I’m not talking about me! Marty Halder has chosen a new leader, and as the law commands, the one he has chosen must take the position!”
“Who are you talking about then?” Ihana said.
Rio pulled something from a pouch in his X vest. It was the letter Grandpa had sent him; the one he read to the grandchildren in the cabin. The drake slid it across the smooth surface of the table until it reached Sebastian. The pale elite unfolded it, looked at Rio, then showed the rest of the elite.
“So, he has selected you as the Halder,” Ihana said.
“Only temporarily,” Rio said.
George interjected, the letter in his hand, having reached him as it had been passed around. “This letter hardly makes sense. Marty kept his personal life hidden from Gathara and the Indies. Even us, his elite.”
“Have you done what Marty instructed?” Sebastian asked. “Have you brought his family here safely?”
Rio nodded, “I have.”
“Then where is this grandch—?” Keele had begun to ask but was interrupted by an apparent epiphany. For it was then they all looked at Ace, realizing who he was.
Rio nodded at him.
“I am,” he said as he stood. “My name is Ace Halder.”
The elite’s eyes widened, and they leaned back in their hover chairs.
“You?” Sebastian said, his face scrunched.
“Rio, you can’t be serious,” George said.
“You read the letter yourselves. Why would I lie about this?” Rio said.
The elite stood from their table, throwing out every reason why this wouldn’t work.
Sebastian said, “That’s tosh! There must be some mistake.” The others shouted so close to one another, Ace couldn’t make out the following words.
“He’s just a boy!”
“He could be snapped like a twig, he’s so small.”
“Marty must have meant a different grandchild.”
Ace didn’t fight the accusations. He stood calmly. These were things he had been used to hearing his entire life. Mainly from the Peppercorns. Rotten as those brats were, perhaps their persistent bullying over the years had been good for something after all. Not letting insults get the best of him.
The Peppercorns . . .
As the elite continued ranting and complaining, His mind drifted elsewhere. Their voices became muffled, and the world around him, fuzzy. He was taken back to his nightmare. Since this morning he had a lot to distract him. But now, as he stood there, the nightmare caught up with him once again
and shook him. It took him back to the day his mother died. One of the worst days of his life. He was only seven then, and they were visiting the Peppercorns. He remembered Julie’s piercing yell echoing through his brain. The family never found out exactly what had happened. Only the blame was pinned on Julie.
Another one of Julie’s pranks, Ace thought, gone wrong. It was a wretched day for Ace. One he dreaded to revisit in his sleep. He never wanted to talk about it or think about it. This needed to stop. His stomach churned, and his blood boiled.
“Enough!” Shouted Rio, loud enough to jolt the boy back into reality.
The elite stood in silence, mulling over the situation.
“I know how unusual this looks. But to be fair, Marty was known for his unusual methods,” Rio said. The elite silenced. “This boy has a gift. I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”
“What kind of gift?” Keele asked.
“The very same his grandfather had,” Rio said.
There was a moment of silence, the elite looked at one another, then back to the drake. Sebastian chimed in, “Even so, the tyke is far too young to lead the Indies.”
“That’s not your call!” Rio said.
Ihana snapped her tongue sharply and said, “Yes, it is, Rio. Like it or not, Sebastian has already been sworn in. We’re sorry, there’s not much to do about it now.”
“Grandpa wouldn’t have done it like this, would he?” Ace said. He swallowed a lump afterwards, wishing he could take the words back. It didn’t seem his place to interject in such a meeting. But if Grandpa truly thought he was the next leader, then maybe it was his place. Nevertheless, it didn’t settle his anxiousness.
“Done it like what?” Sebastian said.
Ace swallowed again. “I mean, he would have at least left it up to some sort of vote, right? Not just whatever he says goes,” said Ace. Rio crossed his arms, a wide smile on his face as he chuckled.
The elite looked at Sebastian, who was snarling with anger.
“Fine. All in favor of Ace Halder leading the Indies, raise your hand,” Sebastian said. Three hands shot up. Ace, Rio, and surprisingly, Keele.
“Keele?” Sebastian said.
Keele looked at Sebastian and shrugged. “I have a feeling about the boy, what can I say?”