Paladin_Pawn

by Michael D. Young

  By the end of the day, he had succeeded in avoiding Angela, but had not succeeded in accomplishing his task. His nemesis hadn’t shown up yet, and Rich was still scratching his head about Arlenen’s remark about checking his mail.

  He debated whether or not to drop by cheerleading practice, and he finally decided that he couldn’t stand the added suspense if he didn’t. He figured it might be best to stop in near the end, so he took a walk to clear his head first.

  He walked around the outside of the school and watched the rest of the students leave. Eventually, he found himself relatively alone except for his thoughts. He noticed a small rock on the ground and started kicking it ahead of him.

  Just why did Aaron have to leave? It had been a miserable day in a string of them, and now more than ever, he needed help. He’d be on edge until Aaron showed up again and he could get advice on how to sacrifice properly.

  A flash of light blinded Rich from out of nowhere, and he jumped back into a defensive position. His heart leaped. Was this his nemesis coming to attack him while his guard was down? Why did he let himself be alone?

  However, as the light faded, Rich saw not a person, but a familiar object in a peculiar position. Right next to the flagpole stood an ordinary-looking silver mailbox with a red flag. In fact, it looked exactly like the one that stood outside his house, complete with the correct address painted on the side. Rich shook his head and approached cautiously.

  Maybe I’ve finally cracked. Maybe I’ve been imagining things so long that I’ve lost my grip on reality.

  He placed a nervous finger on the top of the mailbox. It felt real enough. He crouched down and examined it from every angle. Everything about it looked perfectly normal. He raised and lowered the flag. Nothing exploded or moved—in fact, nothing strange happened—so he opened the door and peered inside. There lay a single letter-sized envelope with an American flag stamp and a neatly written address on the front. He took it out and realized that it had no return address.

  The center of the envelope listed only Rich’s name and the name of the school. Rich squinted and stared at it, not sure he had read it correctly. Who would be sending him letters here?

  The same person who uses a mailbox that appears out of nowhere.

  He flipped the envelope over and noticed an odd seal, which had been placed over the flap. It was a round symbol in dark red ink that resembled the color of blood, and it depicted an old-fashioned key flanked by feathery wings.

  He had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as he slid his finger under the flap. It yielded easily under his touch to reveal a single piece of cream-colored paper. He removed the paper and read the finely written characters, which extended from the top to about halfway down the paper. The other half of the paper was covered with an old-fashioned design of interlocking keys in a symmetrical pattern.

  He squinted, and then his eyes went wide. He knew the handwriting. It was his mother’s.

  Dear Rich,

  I hope the mailbox didn’t scare you too much. The first time it pops up can be startling. All paladins are born with both a gift and a curse that we carry with us from birth, but they don’t reach their full potential for a while. When I married your father, I inherited a gift of my own, as you’ve just seen, and the U.S. Postal Service will never have to know.

  I’m sorry I haven’t written sooner. You must have assumed the worst. The car wreck was no accident, but was planned to keep me from the truth I am so close to finding out. I’m in hiding and working out the final pieces of the puzzle of where your father is. Don’t come looking for me now, Rich, but finish your quest. The time will come when we will be together again, but you need to be patient.

  I know that I haven’t been there for you lately. I’m very sorry for that. I could try to explain how worried I’ve been about your father and grandmother, but I don’t really like excuses. Know that I love you and that I pray I’ll see you sooner rather than later.

  Love,

  Mom

  P.S.

  Keep the key.

  Rich grinned as wide as he could as he read the words over and over. His mother was alive!

  But then he shuddered. Who had tried to kill her? Where was his father? Just how long was it going to be before they saw each other again?

  He scratched his head for a moment while reading the postscript. The bottom half of the paper was covered with a key pattern, but there were no actual keys in the envelope. He ran his fingers over the pattern and noticed a single key that felt different from the others. He pressed down on it, and it fell away from the paper and fluttered to the ground. Rich bent and picked it up. It was nothing more than a paper cutout. Why would his mother want him to keep it?

  He shook his head in frustration. Nothing made sense anymore. Gently, he took the key and slid it into a fold of his wallet. Just in case.

  He contemplated rushing home right away to the painting in his grandmother’s closet. However, he couldn’t overcome the urge to see Mallory again and figure out what had happened. He sighed. She was so beautiful. Last night had seemed too good to be true, and he was desperate to prove to himself that it wasn’t. If she really liked him, it might make up for years and years of being on the bottom of the social food chain.

  He checked his watch. Practice would be over in fifteen minutes, which would give him just enough time to head over to the gym and get a little idea of exactly what cheerleaders practiced without feeling too self-conscious. He reentered the school and paused in the entryway. Something else was eating him. Between visions of Mallory’s happy face, another girl’s face flashed into his mind, anything but happy.

  He was sure Angela must be freaking out right about now. The project was due in two days, and they hadn’t even started. He had successfully avoided her all day, but he knew he couldn’t do it forever. He sighed. He wouldn’t mind trying.

  On the way to the gym, he decided to stop by his locker to grab his history notes. Maybe he’d have a little time tonight to throw something together that he could use as a peace offering. Angela had been kind to him, and he didn’t like the thought of alienating the few friends he had.

  As he approached his locker, he sniffed and noticed a strange, sweet scent in the air. He sniffed again, and a smile crossed his face. Mallory’s perfume.

  He glanced around to see if for some reason she had abandoned practice and was waiting for him. No one was in sight. When he stepped closer to his locker, the smell intensified. His eyelids fell halfway closed and he stumbled the last few steps, feeling dizzy and disoriented. He blinked rapidly and fumbled with the combination on his locker.

  Man, that is powerful stuff.

  He opened the locker, and to his surprise, he found a folded note written on rose-colored paper. It was drenched in Mallory’s perfume.

  Dear Rich,

  So, yeah, I wasn’t in school today. Texting seems so impersonal, so I had Vicki drop this note off in your locker. She’s kind of an airhead, so I hope she remembers to do it. Last night was so nice until... I don’t know what happened. You started to look sleepy, and this... thing showed up, and I got really scared. You fell over and wouldn’t wake up. I panicked and went to get help. I tried to come back later, but you were already gone. I’m sorry things went so wrong. I’m feeling pretty sick today, but I hope I’ll be back tomorrow. Till then, I’ll be thinking of you, my knight in shining armor.

  Yours,

  Mallory

  Rich stared blankly at the paper for several moments after he had read the last word. He felt lightheaded and slightly nauseated. She had saved him last night, and he owed her now more than ever.

  What did “yours” mean, anyway? So many things he needed to ask someone,
and no one to ask.

  There was no point in going to practice. Instead, he sauntered out the door and back toward his house. For a moment, he even forgot his mother’s mysterious letter as thoughts of Mallory played out on the stage of his mind.

  He wanted to meet her alone again somewhere, but not at the creek. He thought of all of the other places he had heard of people going and threw those out one by one. It needed to be somewhere special, and unfortunately, anywhere special enough only existed in his imagination.

  I can’t meet her at a castle, or a quiet clearing in the woods. What’s the next best thing?

  His mind wandered to a nice spot where his family once had a picnic. There was a large park in the middle of town where the city had set up picturesque bridges and gazebos. Rich nodded in satisfaction. He would meet her there. He’d make it a night to remember.

  Yours.

  Lost in his thoughts, he took about twice as long to get home. He walked in and barely noticed when his cousins greeted him. Instead, he went directly up the stairs to his room, where he stretched out on the bed and once again lost himself in daydreams.

  A single nagging thought kept fighting its way to the forefront. He had to show his mother’s letter to his grandmother. But then the hazy images of Mallory took center stage in his mind again. It made it so easy to forget everything else, just thinking of her. His eyelids felt heavy and his muscles weak. He closed his eyes and drifted from daydreams to real dreams.

  I’ll just close my eyes for a sec.

  The fog cleared quickly this time, revealing the wrinkled face of Arlenen. He glared down at Rich like a principal who had just found a student goofing off with a Bunsen burner.

  “Heinrich, what are you doing?”

  Rich stared up and blinked rapidly. He didn’t have a good answer. “If I’m talking to you, I must be sleeping. But you know, it’s hard to get enough rest when you keep popping up.”

  “Keep quiet, boy! You’re wasting valuable time. You must present Minerva with the letter at once.”

  “But I’m exhausted,” Rich protested. “Just let me sleep a little longer.”

  “Have you learned nothing, you foolish boy? You must focus on the task at hand. All the rest in the world will do you no good if you cannot complete your tasks. You’ve squandered nearly an entire day already.”

  “It wasn’t for lack of trying.” Rich’s voice rose in intensity. “I sacrificed things all day, and look where it got me. I didn’t have Aaron around to help me, so you could at least cut me some slack.”

  “Trust me, Heinrich, I would not be so stern if this wasn’t so important. And Aaron would not have left if his errand hadn’t been important.”

  “Why is everything so important? I didn’t ask for any of this. It blows my mind why anyone would trust me with something important. I’m not that smart or strong or anything.” He hung his head, not wanting to look at Arlenen. He believed every word of it.

  Arlenen brought his face close to Rich’s, his brow furrowed. “It is the quest you were given at birth. Does anyone get to choose their destiny? The only thing you have control over is what you do with the part you’ve been given.”

  Arlenen raised a hand as if to pat Rich on the back. Instead, he knocked him gently upside the head. “Now, wake up. You’re sleeping your life away.”

  “No. I’m not. I’m...”

  Rich’s eyes fluttered open to a darkened room. He sat bolt upright and turned to face his clock. It stared back at him, rubbing it in that it was already nine.

  “Nine? When did it become nine?”

  He suddenly became aware of a loud knocking. Numbly, he slid off the bed and stumbled over to the door. He swung it open to see his aunt’s face, which grinned wide as if she hadn’t seen him in months.

  “Hello, Rich van Winkle. I thought you were going to sleep right through the night. Are you feeling okay?”

  Rich nodded and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yes, I’m fine. I just closed my eyes for a minute. I didn’t mean to...”

  “At least you’re up now. Are you hungry?”

  “A little, but really not as much as I should be.”

  “I’ll fix you a sandwich.” She turned to go, but then turned back. “Oh, a girl has been calling you all night. She said something about a history project. Sounded pretty desperate. I kept debating whether or not to wake you up.”

  “It’s probably too late to call her back now.”

  “Probably,” Laura said as she disappeared down the stairs. She returned a few minutes later with an expertly crafted sandwich that would have been the envy of any expensive café. Rich took a bite, but barely tasted it.

  He knew he couldn’t avoid Angela indefinitely, and it would be stupid to keep trying. It was too late to call back that night, and he didn’t really feel like burning his ears on any of the angry messages she had probably left on his phone. But he needed to do something, anything to calm his conscience.

  He reached into his pocket and withdrew his mother’s letter. Perhaps this was what he should be taking care of first. Arlenen had told him to take the letter to Minerva right away. He narrowed his eyes. His grandma had been keeping all sorts of secrets from him—maybe he could use it to convince her to tell him something more about his father. He’d have to think about that some more... after he knocked out this school project.

  With an idea beginning to take shape, he ran down the stairs and made his way to the cupboard where they kept their office supplies. He took a new piece of poster board, some colored markers, a ruler, tape, and assorted bits of colored paper. With the basic supplies in hand, he went back up to his room and laid them out in front of him on the floor. He then switched on his computer, uploaded his word processing program, and typed furiously.

  In a blur of clicking keys, he emptied his brain of everything it had absorbed about medieval history in and out of school. With some creative use of the Internet, he inserted several pictures to spice things up a bit, and even threw in a chart for good measure.

  Once he was satisfied, he clicked the print command and commenced the task of arranging it all on his piece of poster board. He used colored paper to mark off the different sections, the markers to add decorative headings, and taped it all in place in a way that he thought made sense.

  He worked frantically and denied all distractions that tried to worm into his thoughts. Fueled by guilt and desperation, he didn’t pause until the finished project lay on his bedroom floor. He stepped back and admired his handiwork. It had turned out surprisingly well for a last-minute effort, and he was sure that it would go a long way toward pacifying Angela when he showed her tomorrow.

  Without thinking, he found his way back to his bed and lay down. This time, he was genuinely tired. He blinked rapidly and tried to hold back sleep. He still had things to do, and he knew if he gave in, Arlenen would be waiting with that same grumpy look.

  A smile crossed his face as a familiar warm sensation started from his chest and spread out through his entire body. His hand went to the amulet and found it blazing with light and energy. He cradled it in his hand and found that the gold stripe had grown to encompass another section of the pawn.

  He sat bolt upright and burst into laughter. “What? How did this happen?”

  “I think I can answer that.”

  Rich nearly tripped over himself as he stood and whirled around. Aaron stood next to his bed, a brilliant grin across his youthful face. “Aaron! Man, it’s good to see you! How was your mission-quest-thing?”

  “It went even better than I expected. I’ll have to tell you more about it once you’ve completed your little mission-quest-thing. Looks like you’re getting closer.”

&n
bsp; “Yeah—I just don’t know how, though. The only thing I’ve been doing since I got home was sleeping and doing this poster for school. Is it a sacrifice to do homework?”

  Aaron’s hair shook with the rest of his head. “No, not usually. And forgive me for my distance, but I have been able to keep track of your progress today. Your failure to complete your mission has not been from lack of effort. It was simply the wrong kind of effort.”

  “What do you mean? And why couldn’t anyone have mentioned this from the beginning?”

  Aaron sighed. “We’re not that different, you know. I believe I asked almost that same question when I was in your shoes. Anyway, it’s much more effective to learn for yourself.”

  Rich plopped back onto the bed with a sigh. “Is that why they kept you busy today? To take off the training wheels?”

  Aaron looked as if Rich had just spoken in Swahili. A second later, however, it appeared that his brain had found a translator. “Ah, yes, those little wheels on the...” He held up his hands, imitating two wheels.

  “Bike?” Rich offered.

  “Ah, yes, that. Good analogy. It’s too bad there’s not a task for wit.”

  Aaron sat down next to Rich on the bed. “You see,” he began, “a true sacrifice must be something that really gives a part of yourself for someone else. Your lunch money was given to you by your mother and was a very general sort of help. You did many kind things today, but none of them were true sacrifices.”

  He leaned in closer so Rich could see every detail of his depthless eyes. “However, what you did here tonight was a true gift of your time, talents, and efforts. You had other things to do, and many other things to think about, but you used your time to help someone else who was in distress. Well done.”

  Rich shrugged. “That’s weird. I wasn’t even thinking about it that way. I wasn’t trying to complete my mission.”

  Aaron chuckled softly. “Life is funny that way. Sometimes we succeed best when we’re not trying so hard.”