Reality's Plaything 3: Eternal's Agenda

by Will Greenway

  It blinked gold eyes and looked around. Immediately fixing on Janai and Daena. The corners of its reptilian mouth pulled up into a smile.

  Bannor felt his jaw drop. It was alive!

  The little creature made a cooing sound, then flicked into the air off Beia’s arm and landed on her shoulder, and wrapped its tail around her neck. It nibbled on her earlobe and stuck a long serpentine tongue in her ear making her flinch.

  “Snowfirrre…” she growled at it.

  The dragon grinned with needle-like teeth, the brow ridges above its gold eyes rising in an expression of surprise and innocence. It reminded Bannor of another much larger dragon that fancied herself a comedian—Kegari.

  Wren was fascinated. “Whoa Beia, I never saw this little guy before!”

  “I’ve always had him,” Beia said. “He just couldn’t do the dragon trick before. Ever since he got shaladen powers, he spends a lot of his time that way.”

  “He’s a shaladen?” Bannor breathed, feeling his heart catch. “Like Sharonsheen?”

  “Not that powerful,” Beia answered looking at the creature on her shoulder. “He’s an ‘honorary shaladen’, about half the power of a normal shaladen weapon. Snowfire’s ability is shape changing. He’s a living weapon. He can become anything, a sword, a bow, a spear… I can even make him into armor and clothing.”

  The little dragon sat back on its hind legs, raised its chin, and made a haughty show of preening itself.

  “He is so cute!” Daena cooed, leaning forward to look.

  “That is top class,” Janai said, her amber eyes wide. “Does he become jewelry too?”

  Beia frowned. “All the time.” She pulled on Snowfire’s tail, looped around her neck. “He especially likes necklaces.”

  “Totally wizard,” Wren said.

  Bannor watched the dragon as it soaked up the attention from the three women. It obviously wasn’t an animal. Its eyes followed the conversation, and the expressions that passed on its miniature draconic face were that of an intelligent creature.

  “So, anyways,” Beia said. “Snowfire, now that you’ve shown off. Transport please.”

  The little dragon rolled its eyes and snorted. He fluttered his wings in agitation at having his attention-basking interrupted. He uncurled his tail from around her neck and aimed the stinger up.

  A spark started at the tip that became a flare, followed by a flash of brilliance and a globe of reddish light that spread out and engulfed the five of them. There was a sharp twisting sensation and the abrupt sense of falling. The world went black, and then stars seemed to rush at them from all directions. Bannor’s savant senses felt the universal threads around him tighten abruptly and then let loose.

  The darkness around them parted and new scenery shimmered into view. Bannor felt a twinge in his stomach, a brief disorientation that made him stagger a bit, but it wasn’t anywhere as bad as the time he had gone with Wren.

  Wren looked back at him. “Okay?”

  “Fine,” he smiled. He sighed, able to relax and let his savant senses roam as normal without being dazzled by too much information. “That wasn’t bad at all. I think my savant powers being stronger help too.” He looked to the dragon. “That’s a pretty good trick.”

  The dragon grinned at him and raised an eye-ridge, fluttered his wings and started nibbling on Beia’s earlobe again.

  “A good trick indeed,” Janai confirmed, head turning to survey their new surroundings. The princess looked hardly affected by the transition. She put a hand on Daena’s shoulder, the young savant already peering around the new environment with glowing eyes.

  Bannor looked up and sucked a breath as he gazed around at the massive hall they had appeared in. The area was lit in a soft golden light from hidden sources high up. They stood at the far end of a huge colonnade of gold-marble pillars some hundred paces long that ended in huge wooden portals at the end. A giant circular falcon-head crest was inlaid into the black marble floor in gold metal. The pillars held up a vaulted ceiling some fifty paces up, that was decorated in murals that depicted hundreds, if not thousands, of maps apparently done in intricate detail. Why maps? Bannor wondered. It was attractive but found himself puzzled by the potential significance.

  Two things startled him about the place, the first was the complete absence of magic. The atmosphere was completely cold of it, not even traces. The other thing was the smell. Usually, huge lofty chambers like this had a dusty, musty, smell to them. The air was pristine mountaintop clean, with only the barest hint of a sweetness to it.

  He glanced behind them, a pair of scale-wood doors some five paces high filled the back wall with a stained glass half circle window above them with the same falcon-head crest colored into it.

  Wren’s brow furrowed. “Whoa Beia, where is this?”

  “Falconhall,” the Myrmigyne answered.

  Janai was studying the ceiling with narrowed eyes. “What’s the significance of all the maps, Lady Beia?”

  The Myrmigyne glanced up. “Those are all the territories governed by Aarlen’s family.”

  Janai’s head turned slowly toward Beia. “No, that can’t be, there’s thousands of territories represented there.”

  “Right,” Beia agreed. “It’s not all up there, that’s just the significant ones. Aarlen has entire worlds under her sway.”

  “Worlds?” Daena breathed held tilting to one side.

  “She’s pretty major,” Wren said. “Live fifty-thousand summers, and spend most of that time taking over stuff and you’ll have a lot.”

  “Fifty thousand?” Bannor repeated in shock. Who was this, a god?

  “What family is this?” Janai said in awe.

  “This is the home of house Frielos.”

  The name didn’t mean anything to Bannor. Janai appeared to recognize the name though. Her already pale skin turned the color of milk. “F-f-frielos? You mean, we’ve been talking about Aarlen Frielos—the Ice Falcon!”

  Wren pointed at the floor. “Janai, look at your feet.”

  The princess looked down and saw the symbol they were standing in the middle of and her cheeks colored. She gripped her chest and staggered a bit.

  Daena caught her arm. “What’s wrong?” Obviously, she, like Bannor had not heard of this Frielos family. To him, it was just a name.

  “Aarlen Frielos,” Janai breathed. “The Ice Falcon, the crimson death, the brass b—” She glanced at Beia and cut off the word she was going to say. “She heads what’s probably one of the most powerful families in all of the Ring Realms!”

  Beia waved a dismissing hand, rubbed the dragon on her shoulder and nodded toward the doors. “Follow.”

  Bannor glanced at Wren, shrugged and went after the blonde woman. To him it was just a big house, like the citadel of Malan. He found the idea of a woman eons old who wasn’t a god to be an interesting idea. Creatures of power no longer frightened him like they did. After facing Odin and the jury of Asgard, there simply wasn’t much left to be afraid of. Nothing was more potent than an eternal, a living autonomous thread of Eternity. After staring into Koass’ glowing eyes, a mortal creature that had attained the power of a god was more of a curiosity than anything else. They weren’t here to fight after all.

  He looked back. The princess was still standing there in the center of the crest. Daena stood by rubbing her shoulder looking concerned. He went back and took the princess’ hand. “Janai? Come on.” As he closed his fingers on hers he realized she was trembling. “Janai?” He glanced back and saw Beia and Wren waiting. He put his arm around the princess. “You’ll be okay.” He pulled her into motion.

  Janai came when he tugged. She sighed, a sheepish expression on her face. “I don’t know why it scares me.”

  “I don’t know why either,” Daena said. She put a hand on the back of the Elf’s neck. “I am here with you.”

  Janai nodded. “You’re right. I’m being silly.”

  The three of them caught up with Beia and Wren in a few instants and the
group moved together into the greeting hall beyond.

  The chamber through the doors was opulent beyond anything that Bannor had ever witnessed. Two huge falcon-crests made with platinum and jewels sitting in carved wooden frames were the main decorations on two of the walls. Fountains featuring different mythical figures chased with gold and silver bubbled in each of the four corners of the room. There were several divans and corner tables, all made with the plushest and most expensive materials, carved and bejeweled. He could tell their value by the way Janai was looking around with wide eyes. If it impressed the jaded princess of the wealthiest nation in Sharikaar, those things were priceless. It was all a huge display basically to demonstrate the family’s wealth, which it did admirably.

  As Beia moved into the room a half-dozen servant types dressed in black breeches and white tunics with feather ruffs and the falcon-crest emblazoned over the left breast scurried up to her.

  “Mistress Regaura,” the oldest of the women servants bowed to her. Her plain face was deeply seamed, but handsome in a matronly way. “How may we serve?”

  “Tell the Magestrix I have guests to see her, and that I’m coming in with them.”

  “Immediately mistress,” the woman bowed and all but two of the group seemed to vanish they moved so fast.

  The remaining two, a young girl and boy barely into the teens bowed to Beia. “We await your pleasure, mistress.” The young girl said, a thin wisp of a child with curly blonde hair, a cherubic face, and over-large crystal-blue eyes.

  “Teanna,” Beia said putting a hand on her head. “Take us to wherever mistress Aarlen is.”

  The girl looked up at Beia, eyes wide and face glowing as though she had been touched by the hand of a goddess. Bannor guessed that Beia’s knowing her name and being nice was something unusual for the girl.

  Teanna bobbed. “Yes, Mistress.”

  Beia held out her hand, and the young girl took it timidly, and lead them out of the back of the room and down a broad passage.

  “Whoa,” Daena breathed. “I thought the citadel was impressive. This place is incredible.”

  “Well, if you were queen of a dozen worlds, don’t you think you could afford it?” Wren remarked.

  “Yeah, I guess so.”

  However visually impressive the surroundings were, Bannor found it all to be somewhat grotesque. So much wealth had been accumulated here and wastefully applied to every trivial detail—down to the silver stranded drawstrings on the curtains, and jewel encrusted doorknobs. It was beautiful, but it was opulence for opulence’s sake. While he appreciated the artistry he couldn’t keep from thinking how many people must have suffered for Aarlen’s family to attain such a gigantic fortune.

  They passed a few side antechambers and Bannor saw other denizens of this place, tall pale-skinned men and women, dressed in the finery and jewels of nobility. Though many saw Beia, none of them said a word in greeting. From the looks they gave her, it did not appear that the Myrmigyne was very popular. No one seemed brave enough to openly disrespect her however. As they moved through the giant structure, Bannor noticed another odd detail—the quiet. Even footsteps sounded muted. Voices didn’t carry far. It was so very strange to sense people around them and hear almost nothing.

  The broad hall expanded into a massive rectangular commons area and atrium where Teanna paused, her attention focusing on one of the corners. Two huge curving staircases swept up to semi-circular balcony that opened into railed wings that enclosed the entire room. The furniture in the chamber, including two small dining areas were situated close to the walls, leaving space for a polished striped-bloodwood floor inset about twenty paces across, this too sported the a gold inlay of the falcon-crest. Like everything else, all the articles here were expensive beyond Bannor’s imagining. Because of its extreme rarity, he’d never seen anything but small objects carved from striated bloodwood. Centered in the wall between the stair sweeps was a several pace high framed portrait of a striking white-haired woman dressed in a black and silver military outfit, a cloak of multi-colored feathers hanging from her shoulders, a massive red scepter cradled in her arms, and a jeweled tiara on her brow.

  He studied the portrait, that had to be the house matriarch, he already didn’t like her much simply from the wastefulness; a complete disregard for cost or economy. She had an icy beauty that started with haunting silver eyes, and a hard unrelenting perfection that suggested only indifference. This entire place mirrored that character. Many things in the Elven citadel were expensive, but there he felt the artistry and beauty of it, the pride and love that went into each intricacy. In the Frielos family home, everything had a cold distant feel, still beautiful, but much of it lacked the warmth of people creating something for the sake of beauty.

  At his shoulder, Daena was looking around in awe, taking the details of beautiful paintings, tapestries, statuary, and decorations. The girl bent down to examine a glass flower done with exquisite detail.

  “Hello mother,” a deep voice said from one of the corners where Teanna had focused. A big man was sitting in one of the dining areas sipping something dark from a gold-filigreed cup and saucer. He pushed back his chair and rose. He was dressed in the same black and silver uniform as the woman in the portrait, silver epaulets decorating thick muscular shoulders. Dark-haired with ghostly silver eyes and an androgynous clean-shaven face he came to Beia, his great height forcing him to bend a little to take her hand. “It’s good to see you.” He had a mesmerizing voice with precise clear diction.

  Beia nodded, looking up at him but not smiling. Her tone would be best described as guarded. “Hello, Thanos.”

  On her shoulder, Snowfire hissed at the man. A frown on his draconian features, gold eyes flashing.

  The dark man didn’t respond to the dragon, apparently used to it. “And who are these guests?” He asked, looking around. “Such attractive ladies,” he said looking to Janai and Daena. “Dressed for a ball it would appear.”

  Bannor observed the effect the handsome nobleman had on Beia’s female guests, all three of them looked like they’d been hit in the forehead with a hammer.

  “Lady Kergatha,” he bowed over little Wren, taking her hand and kissing it with a courtly flourish. “I recognize you from the great game. Mother had mentioned to me her desire for me to court you for marriage. Seeing you in the flesh, I see that would not be such a bad thing.”

  “Uh…” Wren stammered.

  Thanos switched to Janai, bowing over her hand as well. “Arminwen, though I know not your name, it is obvious you are a princess.”

  “Janai,” the elf lady forced out, cheeks flushing. “Janai T’Evagduran.”

  “Ah, the most beautiful princess of Malan and the finest archer in all the realms. Well met, Milady.” He kissed her hand and turned to Daena, taking her hand and kissing it as well. “So, this ravishing creature must be your ward prodigal, Lady Sheento. I must say young miss that I love your eyes, they glow with such warmth, vitality and strength.”

  “Y-y-you do?” Daena breathed, face coloring.

  Bannor stared. This fellow was epitome of smooth.

  He turned to Bannor, stepped forward and held out a hand. “Sir.”

  Bannor took his hand and shook, looking up into the fellow’s silver eyes and feeling the strength in the man’s arm. A pretty-boy Thanos might be, but far from a weakling. The complex knot of threads radiating from him was not that of someone ordinary, but of a creature possessing powerful magic.

  “Ah,” Thanos said to Bannor. “I thought I recognized you. You are the slayer of Hecate and tamer of Odin. I watched the trial. There is great potency in your deeds, Sir.”

  Beia had watched Thanos courtly greeting with a tolerant patience. “Thanos, where’s Aarlen?”

  “Upstairs, entertaining some guests,” he answered, turning to the Myrmigyne. “Shall I take you to her?”

  “Thanos, I’m certain you have a million things to do,” Beia answered. “I wouldn’t want to keep you from them.”r />
  He nodded to her. “Yes, of course, you are too polite.” He looked around at the other women. “Ladies.” He stepped forward and took Wren’s hand again. “Lady Liandra.” He said in a deeper voice.

  The blonde woman just stared at him as he straightened up. “As my mother says, I have a million things to do, so I’m off to find out what they are. Good day.” He bowed and vanished in a blue flash.

  Wren continued to look at where he’d been standing.

  “I think he’s a little old for you,” Bannor remarked.

  “What?” Wren’s attention snapped to him. “How do you know?”

  Bannor rolled his eyes. “I know people’s threads. I’m guessing he’s probably two or three millennia old.”

  “Whoa, really?” Daena said.

  Beia nodded. “Those are some senses you’ve got. He’s around twenty-five hundred, give or take a decade or two. Most of Aarlen’s children are elders. He’s her baby.”

  “I like her babies,” Janai said after a moment.

  The Myrmigyne rolled her eyes. She put a hand against the little blonde girl’s back. “Teanna, go on.”

  The little girl headed them up the stairs, the rest of them following.

  “Beia,” Wren called up to her.

  “Yes,” the blonde woman answered back as they climbed the stairs.

  “Was he serious? I mean about Aarlen telling him to court me?”

  Beia shrugged. “I’m certain he was. After losing Ziedra to the Felspars, you don’t think she’d actually give up on you? He’s the one kind of persuasion that’s hard for anyone to find fault with.”

  Wren’s face colored.

  “He called me ‘ravishing’,” Daena said with a grin. “Nobody ever called me that before.”

  “He’s exactly the type I was worried you’d attract,” Bannor murmured. “He’s too smooth, too polished—he’s been trained to influence people—especially easily-impressed young women.”

  “By coincidence,” Beia remarked from the top of the stairs. “Bannor’s right about that too.”