Grand chandeliers hung from the oak beams, with hundreds of candles lighting the room. Streamers and banners ran in every direction, and Karl’s portrait had somehow been painted in time for the celebration.
“How the hell did they do that?” Aysa asked.
Hadley shrugged. “Guess they were betting on him.”
Aysa nodded, her brow knit in contemplation. “You think they have one of me someplace in the back closet?”
Gregory shrugged. “Maybe. You think they were betting on you too?”
“They would’ve been dumb not to have. I almost beat that sonofabitch.” She looked at each of them, waiting for confirmation. When she didn’t get it, she insisted, “You know I almost had it.”
Gregory and Hadley laughed, and crossed the room to find an open spot in the corner. Karl had been ushered out of the hall before they had arrived, to be prepared for his grand entry. The three of them milled in the corner, sipping ale and recounting the day’s events.
Finally Aysa asked, “So Karl won the tournament. Now what? How are we going to get those crystals?”
Brushing his hair from his eyes, Hadley replied, “Gregory here, he has the plan all worked out.”
Aysa sighed. “You going to build some sort of machine to teleport us into the depths of the mine?”
Gregory laughed. “That was the old Gregory. I’ve learned a thing or two from watching Parker work. There are easier ways sometimes to do things than building a mechanism, even if they are less satisfying.”
Before he could lay out the details, they were directed to the king’s table and shown to their seats. They weren’t at the head, but each of them was thankful to have a seat of honor. Aysa complained for a minute that not even Karl’s cousin got to sit near him, and Gregory reminded her that the last thing she wanted was to be related to the rearick.
She agreed and waved to the closest server, motioning to her now-empty glass. “Well, might as well enjoy ourselves tonight. I imagine we’ll be back on that damn ship in no time. Drink up, boys!”
Hadley and Gregory agreed and followed her lead, each of them finishing a glass before the servant girl had gotten too far away. A smooth buzz had settled on each of them by the time everyone around them rose.
All eyes turned toward the double doors on the east side of the hall as a quartet of horns played an unfamiliar tune from the back corner of the room.
“Going to make quite an entry,” Gregory said as the doors flew open.
The king entered first with Mariah, his daughter and once-fiancé to the victor by his side. Each of them were clothed in brilliant attire, Mariah’s dress sparkling in the candlelight as she moved. Behind them, a dozen other Heemites entered two by two. Gregory assumed they were close associates of the royal family or maybe political figures in the mountain community, though he knew nothing of their governmental structure.
Mariah and her father made their way to the head of the table, where they immediately reached for glasses.
Aardash raised his voice, though he hardly needed to since the entire place was silent in anticipation. “Friends of the throne and protectors of the gods, I welcome you to the celebration of the sixty-second crowning of the champion.” The room let out a great roar. Aardash smiled broadly and allowed them to cheer as long as they wanted. Finally, the room settled. “It’s a good day indeed. A day for us to mark our role in this great cosmic event called life. A day to serve the gods, who brought justice to the corners of the universe and, once their mission was accomplished, chose our humble mountain to establish their paradise.”
“I don’t think he gets out much,” Aysa whispered to Gregory, who shushed her immediately.
The king continued, “We witnessed what some might consider the most uncommon of all tournaments with the bold triumph of Karl of the Heights—the first person from beyond Heema to compete in, and certainly to win, the crown of victor.”
A slight commotion spread through the room. Low voices chattered, many of them still aghast that a foreigner had been allowed into the tournament, let alone won.
At this Aardash waved his arms, quieting the gathering. “I know, I know… This will be considered by the citizens and scholars for years, and I wish to let it be known that I have no regrets even now. Karl, the handsome, brave man from afar, was betrothed to my dear Mariah,” he motioned to her and she smiled dutifully, “and I am confident that by the laws of Heema and the spirit of the festival the victor was indeed a legitimate competitor.”
Again, the crowd mumbled around them. “Not sure everyone agrees,” Hadley quipped.
“Now, now.” the king said, bringing silence again. “You can debate this another day. This evening we celebrate and commemorate the crowning of the champion, and give him a proper farewell as he leaves us for paradise!” He glanced at his daughter, who was on the other side of the table. “There is only one mark of sadness on this glorious night. We have gained our victor, the emissary to the gods, but I have lost a son-in-law and Mariah a husband.”
Theatrically Mariah pushed out her bottom lip and traced the line of a fake tear down her cheek. The crowd laughed in delight, and she nodded her thanks.
“There are more of us in line, Princess,” a voice shouted from the back of the room, drawing more laughs.
“You couldn’t handle her, Denius,” the king called to the half-drunk man. The crowd laughed even harder, and Gregory could feel the true electricity of the party growing around him. “Enough of this already! It is an honor and a privilege to present to you the winner of this year’s festival, the one who will represent us to the gods… Karl of the Heights!”
The crowd’s roar of delight mixed with the fanfare of the horns as the doors of Aardash’s private chamber flew open. Gregory’s mouth dropped open when he saw the short, stout figure standing on the threshold. He knew theoretically that it was his friend, but the man looked nothing like Karl. His beard, perfectly manicured, flowed over a shirt of the finest cloth Gregory had ever seen. The women had made every inch of the dirty, crass rearick perfect, and he looked fit to dine among the gods.
Karl’s face was dead serious, that of a true royal warrior. The crowd exploded when they saw him, and the rearick could no longer hold it in. His face came alive, and he broke into the biggest smile Gregory had ever seen on his friend’s face. Karl threw his arms into the air and waved at the crowd, offering low bows to the men and blowing kisses to the ladies.
Any discontent with the outsider’s victory evaporated with his entry, and Karl ate up every ounce of attention.
Finally, after minutes of bowing and kisses and waving, he crossed the room and stood at the head of the table between the king and his daughter. Karl first grabbed Aardash’s meaty paw in his own and shook it vigorously, and then he turned to Mariah. Taking her hand in his own, he raised it slowly and gently and placed a kiss on her smooth porcelain skin.
“I think we could have been great together,” she said in a voice low enough to give them privacy, “but I am proud that you are the one to descend.”
Karl pulled back his hand and his face looked sullen for an instant, then he pushed the glee back to where it belonged. “So ye do believe, then?”
Her eyes grew glassy, but her smile never faded. “I have seen a lot here, rearick. There is much that happens outside our everyday walking-around life. Some of it I choose to believe. What lies below that pile of rocks? It’s hard to know. But if you return, I expect at least a hello before you move on to the next chapter in your journey. A simple goodbye.”
“Aye, Princess. On me honor.”
“Good.” She blinked, and a single tear broke and ran down her cheek, out of sight of her father and the rest of the partygoers. Karl reached up and swiped it away with the back of his index finger. She nodded. “And that, my dear rearick, is your fate.”
Karl looked at her. His face held many questions, and she could read them all.
“I know that you—you and your people—are in this world to wipe away every tear from
every eye. Our little place in this great universe is one tiny line in a story greater than both of us.”
“I won’t forget ye,” he said quietly.
“Nor I you.” Mariah grabbed his hand. “Whatever lies beneath, be careful down there. If it is not what we say it is then we have lost many already—some of our best.”
“Aye,” was all he could say.
“Now, let’s celebrate you kicking Hendrix’ bloated ass. He’s been asking for that for years.” She turned her eyes toward the room and raised her glass. “To the victor,” she yelled, and the room responded with a shout of their own. On cue, the band began to play, and they all settled in to drink and laugh and drink some more.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“Gods, that bourbon is poison,” Laurel moaned as Hannah rolled over on the bed.
The magician sat up, dropping her feet to the floor. Her head thumped with her heartbeat, and she swore then and there that she would stick to mead, wine, and beer from now on. Placing a finger on each of her temples, Hannah focused and her eyes flashed red. A bit of Etheric power was all it took to heal any hangover. She stood and crossed the room, and did the same for Laurel.
“Have I told you how much I love you?” the druid asked.
“Not since your last bender.”
They stopped in a little room adjacent to theirs, where Stan had laid out two pristine towels and a bowl of warm water. After washing, they followed the smells of cooking bacon and eggs into the small kitchen at the back of the house.
“Good morning,” Stan purred, as he positioned the plates at a table made for two and motioned for them to sit.
“Thanks for drunksitting us last night,” Laurel said as she bit into a piece of bacon. “I’m not sure I could have gotten to wherever the hell we were supposed to crash.”
Stan hummed as he dropped another three eggs into the skillet. He apparently hadn’t been affected by the bourbon. Years of practice had made him perfect.
“No problem, baldy. Figure if I’m going to push my brew on you, the least I can do is make sure you get a good night’s rest.”
Hannah stuffed a forkful of the best-tasting eggs she had ever eaten into her mouth. “Damn this is good, Stan. But I walked all over your village, and never saw the chickens.”
“What chickens? These are kikpali eggs. Haven’t seen a chicken since I hiked into the northern regions of Rondun. Can’t say I liked those eggs much anyway. Not much flavor.”
Laurel cocked her head to the side, looking at the bright yellow substance on her fork. “Kikpali?”
“Oh, right... How would you say it, then?” He was asking himself more than them. “Um...I guess you’d say ‘lizard.’”
Laurel dropped her fork and cringed. “Gross.”
Laughing, Hannah shoved another heaping forkful into her mouth. “I’m going with ‘freaking awesome.’ Just, please don’t tell Sal.” She looked down at what she had assumed was bacon, and decided it was better not to ask.
Stan pulled another chair in from the room next to them and joined Laurel and Hannah for breakfast. “When are you heading to the towers, anyway?”
“Thought you told us we shouldn’t go,” Hannah replied.
“Hell, by the looks of you two—and if half your damned story is true—you’re sure as shit not going to listen to an old bag of fur like me. In fact, I’d likely respect you a little less if you did.”
“Our friend Parker is still healing from the poison he took from the Muur. The glavne says he’ll need a month, so we’re heading out tomorrow.”
“The glavne is a good man, but he can be a little pussy...cat sometimes, if you know what I mean. I got poisoned by those bastards once, and I was up and around in a couple of days.” He chewed slowly and pushed the food around on his plate for a minute. “Not to mention, they told me you have the gift from the gods. Is it true?” Hannah nodded. “Well, then, I guess you might be able to hurry it along a bit if you can heal.”
“If she didn’t have healing power,” Laurel said, “I’d still be in bed wishing I were dead, thanks to that witch’s brew you fed me last night.”
Stan laughed. “It’ll put hair on your chest,” he held up his furry arms, “and everywhere else.”
They finished the meal and gathered their things before meeting Stan in the living room. He rooted around under an old side table in the corner as they looked on with curiosity.
“Where the hell did I... Here it is!” He slid a small box from the back reaches and held it up in front of him, blowing the dust from its surface. “Listen, I have no idea if you’re going to get the tech or end up eaten by the ghosts, but if that thing is really going to save all our asses, then you might need this.”
He cracked open the top of the hinged box and tilted it toward them. Inside was a little piece of machinery—a small cylinder with gears on either end.
“Besides that big piece of tech on the roof, this is the only thing I’ve ever run into in the towers that I couldn’t identify. Damn puzzle piece I found a floor down from the big device. It would be a bitch if you brought that thing all the way back to New Romanov and realized you were missing something.”
Hannah took the box and gave Stan a little bow. “I won’t forget this.”
He waved his furry hand at her. “You better not. I might need a favor someday. Now get the hell out of here so I can clean up. But I’ll make up your beds and leave the door open for you.”
“Stan, you—” Hannah started to object, but he wouldn’t have any part of it.
“You’ll stay here. But now I have some settling in to do, so get the hell out for a while.”
Hannah nodded. “Thank you.”
“Of course,” he said, the soft fur standing up on the side of his face. “Now scram.”
Laurel and Hannah left Stan’s place feeling ready to take on the world. Laurel headed off to walk the perimeter of the village, making herself more and more familiar with the natural life of Kaskara, while Hannah joined Parker for the day.
He sat up in his bed when she entered. The color had returned to his face, and he actually looked a little more human than he had the day before.
“Hey, beautiful.” He smiled. “Where you been?”
She pulled a chair over to his cot and sat. “Well, you were out of commission, so I found some other man to fulfill my needs. Older, more mature, but not bad looking.”
“You left me for some silver fox, huh?”
Hannah laughed. “Silver, yes. Fox? Not quite. You’re better, right?”
Parker shrugged. “Getting there. I’ll be good to go tomorrow, but I really need to get the hell out of here for a bit. Let’s walk.”
They walked for an hour, taking a few breaks to allow Parker to rest. After a generous dinner with the glavne, they all took some time to pack their things and call it a night.
Hannah stood by Parker’s bed, and he took her hand and gently pulled. “Stay the night,” he said, a sly smile on his face.
“You’re impossible.” She leaned in and kissed him on the forehead. “It took all you had to walk around the village today. I think you need your rest, not a little bedtime workout.”
Her eyes flashed red and Parker felt a wave of healing power move through his body. “How about now?”
“No!” She put on a fake frown. “That was just to help the process along. I’ll see you in the morning. Be packed and ready to leave at the crack of dawn.” She leaned in and gave him another kiss before heading toward Stan’s house.
****
“Scheisse, stop yer damned yellin’, mystic.” Karl squeezed his eyes shut, fully believing that if he opened them the whole cosmos would implode with the fury of the Matriarch and the Patriarch. He felt like a magitech weapon had gone off between his ears, and he feared that if he were to try to move, his entrails would spill out either from his mouth or the other end.
“I’m not yelling,” Hadley whispered, “but I hope you had fun last night. By the time you wrapped up your f
ifth story and took to the dance floor, I had a feeling I’d find you in this state.”
Karl cracked his eyes only a little, and he could unfortunately make out the figure sitting on the edge of his bed. He prayed that the mystic had some kind of trick to make the headache go away, but somehow he doubted the possibility.
“Sure,” Hadley said, his eyes covered over in white. “I can trick your mind into thinking you feel like a million bucks. It’s all mind over matter.”
“Get the hell out of me head, unless yer gonna do some good in there.”
Hadley nodded, his eyes still whited over. The tension in Karl’s temples eased first, then warmth spread throughout the rest of him. Although his stomach still churned, it was less violent than only a few seconds before.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed, finding that he was still dressed in his victor’s garb, boots and all. “I didn’t really dance, did I?”
Hadley laughed. “I wish you hadn’t, really. I think Gregory was more embarrassed than anyone else, poor guy. But Aysa joined you. It was her chance to get her revenge on you after losing in the festival.”
“Well, I hope that Baseeki feels worse than I do.”
“Worse? She’s already had breakfast and is waiting to see her dance partner off.” Hadley stood and grabbed Karl by his shirt, pulling him to his feet. “We need to hit the road, so it is time to say our goodbyes. Clean yourself up a bit. The gods know we don’t want the fine people of Heema to see their victor at his worst. They might just give up the whole guardians-of-the-gods gig and move off this bloody mountain.”
Without waiting for a response Hadley exited the room, leaving Karl to prepare himself to see his friends off.
He moved slowly at first, afraid that the mystic’s spell might wear off in his absence, but after a few minutes he trusted the craft and stripped, replacing the party attire with his own clothes. They stunk and were filthy, but once they were covering his body Karl felt a little more like himself.
After washing in the basin of warm water left on a table by some kind servant, he left his room and wandered through the residence until he found his way out the front door to where his friends stood waiting.
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