Paladin_Pawn

by Michael D. Young

  “Society, maybe. But here in junior high, we’re still in the Dark Ages.”

  Rich opened the door. Aaron tilted his head, as if trying to hear anything coming from inside.

  “See? No one’s on the rack in there,” Rich said. “Let’s go.”

  The classroom looked like all the others Rich had seen—rows and rows of battered desks, but with the word “detention” scrawled across the whiteboard in a faded red marker that should have been thrown away already. They took their seats and pulled out their gigantic history books.

  The rest of the condemned students filed in without a sound and took their places, followed at last by a short, elderly woman who looked like she ate misbehaving students for breakfast. Rich thought he recognized her from the English department, but he wasn’t sure.

  “Not a peep out of any of you,” she said, fixing the class with a stare that might evaporate water. “Open those textbooks and stuff your noses in them. Now!”

  They quickly complied. Rich could feel his eyes turning to jelly in their sockets, threatening to spill out onto the pages, which would probably get him more detention for defacing school property. He blinked furiously, knowing that the only thing the teachers hated more in detention than talking was sleeping.

  Finally, Rich couldn’t take any more. He closed the history book and bent down to retrieve his biology book from his backpack. He froze as his eyes met another’s across the aisle.

  She was a slender girl in a black-and-blue cheerleader’s outfit, with long brown hair that curled slightly at the ends. Her freckled face turned up in a grin as she held his gaze. Rich quickly glanced away, feeling the blood rise to his face. She was easily one of the hottest girls he’d ever seen.

  He tried again to concentrate on biology, but his mind strayed to something else. He found himself wishing he had a nice car he could impress her with. Or contacts. Or muscles.

  He tried not to think about her, and instead looked over at Aaron, who was trying to figure out how a mechanical pencil worked, using far too much lead. It was kind of funny, but he could only watch it for so long before his thoughts wandered back to the girl.

  A piece of paper slid between him and the diagram of photosynthesis he was supposed to be studying. It was so unexpected that it took several seconds for his eyes to focus or to make sense of the words on the page.

  Hi, I’m Mallory.

  He glanced up at the teacher sitting ramrod straight in the desk at the front of the room. She hadn’t seemed to notice. He weighed the possibility of more detention against talking to a beautiful girl. Probably a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

  He took out a pencil and scribbled a response. Hi, I’m Rich. He tried to think of something else to add, and finally he settled on a line he’d once heard in a movie. What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this? He waited for the teacher’s gaze to sweep to the other side of the room, dropped the note, and slid it across the floor.

  Mallory picked up the note, read it, and tossed her hair back over her shoulder. Still no reaction from their jailer.

  In another minute, the note reappeared on his desk with new writing. I got into a fight with another girl during cheerleading practice. She had it coming. Just doing my time. What about you?

  The note passed hands again. I tried to correct my history teacher about World War II. I should have known better. He’s such a Nazi, he should know everything about it.

  This time, Mallory laughed silently. Seriously, the movement isn’t dead. But they don’t wear armbands anymore. Are you in ninth grade?

  The words were coming more easily now. No, I wish. Eighth. I’ve lived here all my life and I can’t wait to get out. What about you?

  They passed the note several more times, expertly hiding their movements. Each time, they pulled faces at the teacher when she turned her back now and then, barely containing their laughter. Confident that they had outwitted her, Rich paid less and less attention to the teacher each time.

  In the middle of trying to place the note on the floor, Rich sneezed loudly, drawing the teacher’s attention at precisely the wrong time. She shot up from her desk and marched over. Rich tried to hide the note with his foot, but only succeeded in kicking it. It slid across the floor and landed in front of the whiteboard. The teacher scrunched her face into a unibrow and picked it up. She unfolded and scanned the contents, her lower jaw jutting out slowly.

  “Mr. Witz, Miss Morray! One more peep, and you will be here for the rest of the week. Do you think this is social hour? You’d do well to save your shameless flirtations for after school!”

  With that, the teacher ripped the note into several pieces and returned to her desk, grumbling. Rich felt like he’d been dropped off a bridge into a freezing river. He stuck his face so far into his book that he could smell the ink on the pages. He hadn’t been flirting with her—he didn’t even know how! Though, it was a nice thought, and the punishment had been worth it by far. It was too bad that they had gotten caught. She’d probably never talk to him again.

  The rest of the time passed in silence, and finally the teacher announced that they were finished. Rich rose slowly, uncomfortable about having to face Mallory, but by the time he had gathered his things and dared to look around, she was already gone.

  Rich and Aaron filed out and walked slowly down the hallway. Aaron looked as if he’d had his eyelids stapled open for twelve hours.

  “So, what did you think?” Rich asked.

  Aaron didn’t react. Rich asked again, and Aaron finally blinked. “Oh, yes, it was boring. Smells a lot better than a dungeon, though.” He placed a hand on his head, wincing.

  “Are you okay?” Rich asked. “I mean, you’re already dead. Do you still get headaches?”

  Aaron shrugged and gave a crooked smile. “Not like you do. I feel dark. Something’s wrong. I can sense these sorts of things.”

  Rich placed a hand on Aaron’s shoulder. “It’s probably just your first day in the American public school system. Just think—most of us get to do this nine months out of the year for thirteen years.” Aaron shrugged, and they walked in silence out of the school and toward Rich’s house.

  Rich heard a familiar voice calling his name. He turned and saw Angela trotting toward him with a pleasant smile on her face. “Hi, Rich. I’m so glad I caught you. They cancelled choir practice because our director got sick, so I’ll have time to work on that history project. Are you doing anything tonight?”

  Rich took a moment to gather his scattered thoughts, and bit one side of his lip. “Let me check my social calendar. Well, I guess I can squeeze you in sometime between now and forever.”

  She smiled and relaxed. “Great. You can come over to my place. Don’t worry about bringing anything... just you—oh, and your friend can come too, if he wants.”

  Both boys nodded, and Rich took a long, appraising look at Angela. She was a very pretty girl, but not so pretty that it scrambled his powers of speech and thought like Mallory did. He snapped back to attention, realizing he was leaving the conversation in awkward silence.

  “How about right after dinner?” he asked. “We usually eat about six.”

  Angela nodded and turned to go. “Thanks,” she called back. “See you then!”

  Rich and Aaron continued toward home. Rich found that he felt a little better after seeing Angela. It was hard to brush up against someone that cheerful and not have some of it stay with you.

  As they approached the house, however, Rich’s heart dropped into his shoes. Two police cruisers stood with their lights on directly outside the house, and the front door lay wide open. A block away, Rich dropped his backpack and ran.

  He burst through the doorway to find
Aunt Laura speaking to two officers around the kitchen table. She had one hand over her face and her head was bowed, but Rich could still see the tears flowing.

  "Aunt Laura," he said, "what's going on?"

  The officers looked grimly from Laura to Rich. "Son, I'm Officer Biddulph, and this is Officer Conrad. It's about your mother," the first officer said. The other officer picked up a manila envelope from the kitchen table and pulled out a short stack of photographs. Without a word, he spread them out on the table in front of them. Rich drew in a breath and glanced reluctantly at the photos. He completely forgot to exhale.

  It was his mother's car—or at least, what was left of it. It lay upside down, crushed almost beyond recognition. Flames shot over the entire car, and Rich could not imagine that anyone could have survived the accident. Tears sprang to his eyes. "Where?" was all he managed.

  Officer Conrad shook his head. "We found the wreck on the interstate headed north. Witnesses say the car was cruising along, passing everyone else on the road, when it suddenly spun out of control, and... well, you can see the rest."

  The other officer cut in. "Strange, though—we didn't find her body in the car or anywhere around, either. We didn't find anyone, in fact. Can't explain it."

  Rich struggled with what this might mean. Could she still be alive? Was someone else driving the car? If so, why hadn’t they found a body? Or had the body been burned to ashes? A relentless, throbbing pressure formed at the base of his skull.

  “We’ll continue our investigation, of course,” Officer Conrad said, replacing his hat. “And we’ll let you know the second we find something.”

  Rich and Aunt Laura thanked the officers and watched in stunned silence as they rounded up their things and made a hasty exit. Unable to hold back his pent-up emotions any longer, Rich burst into tears and collapsed into Laura’s arms. She held him for a long minute, stroking his hair and muttering comforting, yet shallow, words to him. She didn’t seem convinced that everything would be all right, and at the moment, it was hard to imagine that it was even possible.

  Laura offered him a tissue. He blew his nose, and she gave him a sad smile. “Look at us. We’re a sorry bunch. I think... I think I’ll go bake some cookies. That would make us all feel better, right?”

  Without waiting for a reply, Laura bustled off to the kitchen. Rich smiled in spite of himself. For his aunt, cooking itself was just as much therapy as eating cookies. Aaron came over and placed a hand on Rich’s shoulder. Rich turned and saw that Aaron’s eyes glistened with sadness, and once again, he looked old.

  “I’m sorry, Rich. It’s never easy to lose your mother, but this is especially bad timing. I know it will be hard, but we must try to stay focused on our task. If we mope around at home, there’ll be no hope that we’ll complete the quest in time.”

  Rich fixed Aaron with narrowed eyes. “In time? How much time? They didn’t say anything about time!”

  Aaron couldn’t meet Rich’s gaze, “Oh, they didn’t, did they? Generally speaking, there’s not really a time limit, as such.”

  Rich drew in a breath and exhaled loudly. “Don’t mess with me, Aaron. Tell me what you mean. Now!”

  Aaron ran a hand through his bushy hair. “Very well. It’s true that there’s no set time limit for you to complete this task... but no one who has taken longer than one week has ever survived to see a second week.”

  Chapter 9: Nemesis

  If Aaron wasn’t already dead, Rich might have wrung his neck then and there. “That might have been nice to mention when I got myself into this! What do you mean, they don’t survive? They don’t vanish in a puff of smoke, do they? Turn into a pumpkin at midnight?”

  Aaron scratched the back of his neck. “I don’t know anything about turning into vegetables, but realize, we didn’t want to scare you off. We need you.”

  Rich drew his eyebrows together. “I need me too! What if I can’t do this? I’m still not sure I haven’t gone insane. How could you possibly mistake me for a knight?”

  Aaron finally managed to meet Rich’s gaze, and he held it, unblinking. “Because you are one, Rich. Whether you know it yet or not. I’m sorry I haven’t given you all the details, but I will now. You deserve to know the truth.” He motioned to the stairs. “In private.”

  Aaron followed Rich up to his bedroom, and they sat side by side on the bed. Rich sighed and looked at Aaron with puffy eyes. “So, what do you need to tell me?”

  Aaron closed his eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, and began. “It goes like this. Once a new knight embarks on his quest to illuminate his pawn, his nemesis begins a similar quest of his own, seeking out evil deeds. Both the knight and the nemesis become more powerful as they complete more of their quests. Unfortunately, it’s a sad fact that evil deeds are often much easier to find and accomplish than good ones. It has never taken a nemesis longer than a week to complete his tasks. If the knight has not reached his full potential by that time, he doesn’t stand a chance against his nemesis.”

  Aaron shrugged and grinned nervously. “So, it is a sort of deadline. We can’t let up, even if it’s difficult. There’s much more at stake here than I can even explain.”

  Rich lay back on the bed, closing his eyes. This particular food for thought gave him brain indigestion.

  “Of course, it would be helpful if we knew what kind of nemesis we’re up against,” Aaron said. “There’s a slightly different strategy for each one.”

  Rich sat upright. “There’s more than one kind? Like what?”

  Aaron raised one finger. “Well, at first, they all appeared like monsters and such.”

  “Like St. George and his dragon?” Rich asked.

  “Yes, like that.” Aaron held up a second finger. “Then, as time passed, some of them realized they could actually be more effective if they looked like regular humans. They could be more subtle that way, and take the paladins by surprise.”

  Rich shuddered at the thought. He’d seen shows on TV where someone finds out their best friend is actually an alien, but he’d never thought he’d be asking himself that question.

  Aaron held up a third finger. “And finally, there are those who switch back and forth between the two types. Those are the really nasty ones.”

  “So,” Rich said, “is there any way to tell what kind I have? There was that strange thing that came at me in the closet. That really looked like a monster.”

  “No, and that’s part of the problem. I’m not sure that was your nemesis, and even if it was, it could be one that changes form. There’s no sure way to root them out. If it does appear as a person, it usually appears as someone who suddenly enters your life. On occasion, it will try to mimic someone you already know.”

  “It will probably be a person. Too many people would notice if it showed up looking like Godzilla.”

  “Who?”

  Rich sighed. “A big, ugly lizard. I thought you studied our time and culture.” He rubbed his temple. “There was that awful new teacher who sent us to detention. He’s brand new and likes Nazis. Coincidence?”

  “Could be,” Aaron said. “Not very subtle, but they’re not always that bright. We should watch him.”

  Rich sighed and scooted back onto a pillow. “You can watch him tomorrow. I need a nap.”

  “Yes, you should rest. I’ll consult with Minerva and let her know what has happened. Rest well.” Aaron slid off the bed and stepped from the room.

  Rich lay motionless for several minutes before he managed to coax his aching muscles to slink under the covers. Silent tears ran down his cheeks, and he pictured his mother’s face. He struggled with his last spark of hope, unsure whether to cling to it or extinguish it.

  His
mind wandered toward sleep, and as he was about to cross the border, another face burst unexpectedly into his mind. Mallory.

  He smiled in spite of himself. If only I had a chance with her, he thought. He knew how futile his hope was, but at least the thought dulled the pain a little. His breathing slowed, and his eyes fluttered before he gave in to sleep.

  Rich found himself in a dark place with mist swirling around his face. He turned in every direction and saw no one and nothing. When he tried to call out, the sound died as soon as it left his mouth. He ran, but he couldn’t tell if he was actually going anywhere. He dropped to one knee, panic rising in his chest. Frustrated, he cried out, unable to break free of the strange place. The mist thickened and grew, swirling more quickly, completely closing him in.

  “Heinrich, you do not need to shout.”

  The voice emerged from the mist, and the fog parted at the sound. A dark figure loomed over him. Though the form looked like a man, darkness obscured his features.

  “Who are you?” Rich asked, afraid that this might be another visit from his nemesis. Could it really invade his dreams?

  “Let me in, Heinrich. I have much to tell you, but you must let me in.” Rich rose to his feet and tried to approach the figure, but he didn’t seem to get any closer.

  “How?”

  “I can help you, Heinrich. Please let me in.”

  Rich renewed his pace, extending his arms and groping through the mist. The mysterious voice continued growing fainter and fainter, and the mist thicker and thicker.

  Rich’s eyes shot open, and he found himself in another dark room. He could only see the luminous red numbers of his alarm clock next to his bed. His heart stumbled—the clock read 9:30. He should have been at Angela’s hours ago. He felt like banging his head against his wall. It was things like this that kept him from having friends.

  He lay down again and tried to go back to sleep, but his thoughts wouldn’t let him. He rose and looked for Aaron, who was nowhere to be seen. Silently, he made his way toward his grandmother’s room and into her closet. He opened the way to the painting as before and stared at the vividly colored surface. It depicted Minerva and Aaron in conversation, with several other knights huddled close. He was about to open his mouth to request entrance when another voice broke his concentration.