Silver Serpent

by Michael DeAngelo

  A shrill whistle left the man’s lips, and a skinny fellow in blue at the entrance to the site turned at once. He came running like a scolded dog and offered an excessive bow when he arrived before the older man.

  “That’s enough of that, Raoul,” he said. “You’ll break your back, and I need you to use it to get the damned courthouse up.”

  The laborer returned a half-hearted smile. “Of course, sir,” he said.

  “I told the magistrate we’d have this building up in three months. The way we’ve been going, we’re looking at going six out. That’s unacceptable.”

  “We’re already working into the evening hours, Mister Ralek,” Raoul protested. He winced as he said the words, already prepared for the backlash of the statement.

  The foreman grumbled and bowed his head, thinking on that input. He looked up with intensity in his eyes that his worker was familiar with. “Pull fifteen men from the River Hook project and set them to work here. And cut the lunches down to a half hour. By the time the lads are done eating, digesting, and the like, we’re ready to wrap things up.”

  “But, sir,” Raoul pressed. He knew he was stepping too far and squared his jaw. A defeated nod was all he could offer as an apology, and he turned to tell his men to prepare for a harder day’s work.

  Ralek continued toward the massive undertaking. The building wouldn’t be ready in time to meet the magistrate’s expectations, but it didn’t matter. There was always something to be said or a finger to point to shift the blame.

  The foreman dipped his head beneath a wooden arch and entered the area beside the future steeple. Another carpenter, burly and strong, hammered long planks into place. He was a good worker with nary a complaint to be heard leaving his lips. Ralek often observed his work and left with a smile upon his face.

  While the rest of the courthouse was being shaped and planned, that central area had seen some huge momentum built in the past several weeks.

  “If I had ten more men like you, Brennan, I’d have this whole place finished in two months.”

  The big carpenter said nothing—partly because he had a row of nails caught between his teeth and partly because he was a humble fellow. He simply nodded and went about his business.

  Ralek, meanwhile, swept his hands along the finished walls his most prolific laborer had erected. A knock here and there confirmed his beliefs. The walls there were strong and durable.

  The foreman proceeded on, leaving Brennan alone, and approached that wagon with the bell in it. He took a moment to look around and appreciate the massive undertaking he had secured. In time, Argos would have the most glorious courthouse in its history, and it would rival those of distant cities across the sea like Sungarden and Viscosa.

  Before Ralek returned to his tent, a loud explosion of snapping beams rang out. He turned about in time to see wood and splinters flying apart, his laborer’s work all for naught. A moment later, a fellow larger than Brennan stepped through the new hole there. He looked around like a bull that escaped its pen, and when he spotted his victim, he even gave out a mighty snort.

  “You,” he snarled.

  The foreman looked on, terrified, but couldn’t understand why the hulking fellow was concerned with him. He raced through the possibilities in his mind. Had he been a former laborer who he had dismissed? Could he be a competitor jealous of Ralek’s rising fame? Was he a jilted lover of a woman he had tried to seduce?

  As that man stomped forward, Ralek realized he looked somewhat familiar but couldn’t place why.

  “You don’t remember me, do you?” that man asked.

  The foreman shook his head—not because he didn’t know who he was, but because someone else was moving toward him then instead. Brennan crept up on the man, that furious Titan, and moved into position. With stunning speed, the carpenter latched onto the bigger man, wrapping his arms around his throat.

  With uncanny strength, he reached up and grabbed his aggressor, heaving him off and to the side like he was a child. Brennan’s back thumped into the already damaged wall—the wall he had once installed—and he thudded to the ground like a stone.

  The glaring eyes of the big man landed upon the foreman once more. “Well?” he asked. “Do you remember?”

  Ralek gasped as the veil of confusion suddenly lifted. “Marcus,” he whispered.

  “That’s right, you bastard. It’s time you pay for your crimes.”

  That threat was enough to have the foreman burst into motion once more, running in the other direction, but the goliath had his eyes set on the fleeing man. Marcus took three steps forward and tugged the oversized bell out of the wagon. It landed on the ground with a stunted ring, rolling for a few feet before the big man stopped it with his foot.

  He was not finished showing off his feats of strength, however. With Ralek still in his sights, Marcus grabbed the bell by the hoop at its top, where a sturdy rope would hold it aloft. The Titan hoisted it into the air and spun it about, twisting like he was preparing to throw a discus. A tremendous force, it produced a deep roar as it cut through the wind.

  Marcus heaved that bell into the sky, and his hapless prey turned about, just in time to see the huge instrument, that sign of peace and justice, flying out at him.

  *****

  He could never seem to get used to that stench. Gerard looked down, wondering how anybody could do such a horrible thing to such a beautiful woman. Esme must have been gorgeous when she was alive, the constable wagered. After her terrible treatment, she was left a shadow of what she once was. Her lips were blue, and bruises and contusions showed on her face. The area around her eyes looked darker, but her irises were glazed over with a silvery sheen. Her hair, once a lovely shade of brown, had lost its luster and seemed unkempt. Gerard could understand why Ormund did not want to wait to pursue her after her husband passed away.

  The cart rolled to a stop, and the constable placed his hand on the unfortunate drowning victim’s shoulder. Her skin felt firm to the touch, and he instinctively drew his hand away at that feeling.

  Gerard scoffed at his subtle bout of fear. He had seen his share of drown victims during his time in the King’s navy. More men than he could count had succumbed to the cruelty of the sea when weather was unforgiving, or when a pirate vessel had been blasted to pieces and only flotsam remained.

  That morning was the first time he had ever seen a drowned woman, though, he realized—to say nothing of feeling her skin.

  Curiosity moved his hand then, and he placed it back upon her shoulder. Her body felt sturdy to the touch, but remarkably smooth.

  “First one, eh?” he heard. When Gerard looked up, he saw the coroner there. He had reached him with haste, hopping off the cart before the constable even realized it. “That look—I only see that one when someone’s seen a dead body for the first time…or one that’s been found a special way.”

  “Do you examine a good deal of drowning victims?”

  The older fellow shrugged. “On an island such as this, it’s bound to happen from time to time. Bad weather is responsible most of the time, or accidents out at sea. Our lady here, though, whatever happened to her was no accident. I’m sure you can already guess, but she was murdered.”

  Gerard nodded, taking account of the examiner. He was old enough to be the constable’s father, with a scruffy gray beard hanging from his chin. Thin-wired spectacles sat on his face, and the man alternated looking through those lenses and tipping his nose to gaze over top of them instead.

  “How can you tell this wasn’t just a mistake?” the constable wondered.

  “Typically, you can’t see this kind of thing yet, but if you take a good look at her brow and her neck, you can see bruising from where a hand pushed into her. It would have had to have taken some force. I’m guessing he held her underwater in the sewers or something similar. She struggled until she no longer could, and that’s why you can see those finger-sized bruises there.”

  Gerard shook his head. “We have enough problems in this
city without someone doing something this cruel. What do you think could have driven someone to do this?”

  The examiner could only shrug. “I examine the body, not the mind,” he said. “If we’re lucky, I’ll be able to tell you some details about this poor woman by tomorrow. Once she’s cleaned up, I’ll bring—what did you say her name was again? Her sister?”

  “Helen,” the constable informed.

  “Ah yes, Helen,” the coroner said. “If this truly is Esme, Helen will be able to identify her for us. You might not want to be here for that, though. There’s a lot of crying and sobbing. It’s a real messy affair.”

  Looking away as he rolled his eyes, Gerard forced a nod. He hopped off the cart and clapped the other man on the shoulder. “Let me know if you find anything out that might help me identify her killer. Whoever did this has to pay.”

  *****

  The plush carpet offered her more comfort than the stones she traversed upon to the castle. She lingered there for just a moment, enjoying the respite.

  In due time, her purpose had her moving again. She kept to the path she held to many times, weaving her way throughout the castle—down corridors, up staircases, and through some of the common rooms—until she stood before the castle library. It was always vacant at that time in the morning, as the prince was given a wide berth to advance his studies. King Nathaniel valued wisdom amongst other virtues. For Kelvin to be a truly great heir, he needed to learn as much as he could from books and an insightful tutor.

  Marin arched her eyebrow then, for Kelvin was not in the vast library.

  “Mistress Cortes,” a feminine voice cooed.

  She already knew who that voice belonged to, and Marin pivoted on her healthy leg, taking care not to bring attention to her injury. “Selene,” she dared with a whimsical smile on her face. Though she had omitted the ruler’s title, she still offered a little bow when speaking.

  “It is good to see you again,” the queen returned. “Though we live this close to one another, I feel we don’t get an opportunity to interact as often as I’d like. You even tutor one of my sons right under my nose. You’d think there would be more time in the day to make an appointment with my old friend.”

  “You know how things can be. There’s always something getting in the way. Whether it’s some diplomatic upheaval or a military shift—”

  “A celestial phenomenon streaking across the sky,” the queen interrupted.

  The clandestine hero recoiled at that statement. When she realized she hadn’t disguised that flinch well enough, her face warmed. “I haven’t heard anyone in the streets talking about such things.”

  “It happened late last night,” Selene clarified. “Perhaps it’s just the time of year.”

  Marin breathed a sigh of relief, satisfied she’d be allowed to move on from that suspicion.

  “What happened to your leg?”

  The Silver Serpent was quick to stifle a grumble that time. She arched her eyebrow and leaned closer to the queen, projecting an air of dignity she felt was undermined from her since their verbal duel.

  “It grew sore from my impatience. Where is that son of yours?”

  Selene smiled, intrigued by the shift in the balance.

  *****

  The bed was unkempt—almost as bad as his hair—and his clothes from the day before were strewn about the floor. It was hardly acceptable for a lad of his pedigree, but Kelvin was distracted by a newfound talent.

  That ring in his eyes radiated much farther than it had before. Half of his iris was consumed in gold, and he stared far into the distance. There were details there he had not noticed before. Myriad trees that seemed naught but a distraction prior to that morning seemed expressive and full of life. A glance to the north showed the vastness of the gorgeous ocean.

  Narrowing his eyes, he picked a building in the distance. From his tower in the castle, he wasn’t sure what it was, but it towered a few stories over the other buildings, and it demanded scrutiny. He looked at it without discrimination, unimpressed with the details he could make out from afar. But as he focused on it, things became clearer. A cobalt-colored banner above the grand entrance there was embroidered in gold. The music house—of course, he thought—was one of the more impressive buildings in that faraway district. As he dismissed that thought, he fixated on the theater again. Behind that banner was a quartet of ornate wooden pillars, each carved into exquisite shapes by a master craftsman. He could just make out the swirling shapes when a knock came from outside in the corridor.

  By reflex alone, he looked to the hallway. A brief bout of vertigo assaulted him as his enhanced vision landed on an object far closer than the music house.

  The door swung open, and Marin was there. He shifted, spinning about to the window again, hiding those eyes.

  “It affected you,” she gasped. His tutor stepped inside the room and turned, slamming the way shut behind her. “Look at this mess.”

  The prince stuttered. “I’ve been distracted.”

  “I’ll say. You weren’t in the library for our lesson. That’s the first time in at least a year.” She moved about, doting on him as much as his mother would have. Marin plucked the discarded clothes from the evening before off the ground and placed them atop the disheveled bed. “You never slept last night, did you?”

  He furrowed his brow as he considered the innocuous question. “I’ve been standing here the whole time.” He looked down and noticed he was still in his evening wear and saw the tousled mop of blond hair falling past his face. “You shouldn’t see me like this.”

  “You’ve seen me in far less appropriate a state,” she reminded.

  “But I’m your prince.”

  She let a sly look disarm him. “I never took you for a lad so impressed with his own title.”

  He blanched at that remark, embarrassed by the arrogant sound of his statement. “I didn’t mean anything by it, mistress. I just… Things are expected of me.” He rushed to an armoire in the corner of the room and picked out an outfit more befitting a future king. A privacy screen was all that separated him from Marin as he changed attire.

  “All things considered, I think you can be forgiven this once,” she said. “Between yesterday’s fighting and the aurora in the sky, you have every reason to be distracted. And with your ability suddenly improving dramatically…”

  He peeked around the screen, one eyebrow arched. “You know I can see farther now?”

  “Your eyes were glowing golden, Kelvin—more so than ever before. I always believed it was the result of magic. Some call it the Strain. I think the aurora enhanced it.”

  He walked away from the screen in dapper attire, smoothing his hair with both hands. “I remember the first time you revealed you knew about my power—back before my training began.”

  “You were being foolish with it,” she said. “You were given a gift people would be frightened or jealous of. There are others who have powers like yours, but it’s more difficult to discover their talents. Your eyes give you away, now more than ever.”

  He sat down on the edge of his bed, his legs hanging off the opposite side as hers. “When I was younger, I knew something was different. I would catch a glance at my mother looking at me when I was peering off into the distance. It was a glare of confusion or befuddlement.”

  “A warning,” Marin muttered. Her words were too quiet for him to hear.

  “I didn’t realize it, but I stopped trying to embrace the gift for years. I had forgotten all about it for longer than I can recall. When it started happening again, it was almost like I couldn’t stop it.”

  “Why do you think it started up again, after it had been suppressed for so long?”

  The prince stared out the window, ignoring her question. “I remember questioning whether I was really peering farther than I ever had before. I went into one of my father’s rooms where he had this beautiful standing mirror, all the way on the other end of the chamber. I went right up to that mirror and stared at my
self. I would take a step back, one after another after another, until I was almost in the corridor outside. And there looking back at me from the mirror was a confused boy with yellow circles around his pupils. I suddenly understood why my mother gave me those odd looks before.”

  “How old were you?” Marin asked.

  He bowed his head, and his gaze spilled to the floor. “Old enough to lose my best friend,” he muttered.

  His teacher caught onto those words but didn’t press further. She plucked up the books she brought from the library and placed them on the bed next to him. “We’ll begin our lessons here today,” she said. With a weary grin, she plopped back down. “I don’t think my leg can handle those stairs again just yet.”

  *****

  “…and that is why Norkoth has been guarded so heavily ever since.” As Marin finished speaking, she peered at her ward, noticing those gold halos growing yet again. She snapped her fingers until he shook his head and brought his gaze back to her. “Now what was it I was just saying?”

  An embarrassed smirk stretched across his face. “Something about…Norkoth?” he ventured.

  “You’re distracted,” she stated. “But you mustn’t be. These are important lessons. They’re things a prince should know.”

  “Mistress, these are fairytales. They’re things the children of Argos have known about for hundreds of years.”

  With an exasperated sigh, she bowed her head and pushed farther up in her chair. “The knowledge I tried to impart unto you just now is what inspired the fairytales. But there’s real history to be found there. It’s good to know where you come from. Some say Arthur Ipparius is an ancestor of the Drakos family. As the future king of not just Argos or Arthica, but of Ippius, it’s important to know about your lineage.”

  He groaned and rose from his seat, returning to the window. “I’m sure it’s important to know where we’ve come from, Mistress Cortes. But isn’t it also important to talk about where we’re going? Whatever caused that aurora yesterday might still be out there.”