Silver Serpent

by Michael DeAngelo

  “A sect of great wizards came together to build the ultimate failsafe. Elf, dwarf, and man alike sought to rend the powers of the dangerous wizards who meant to torment the world into submission around them. The Arcanax Compendium siphoned their power, leaving them a withered husk of what they once were.

  “What we didn’t realize was that all that absorbed power could be released. Kelvin—My Prince,” she bade. “I fear our failure to protect the relic ultimately led to the sighting of the aurora in the sky that night not long ago. And as for that amazing phenomenon in the sky that we saw: there’s no telling just how far or how many directions it was cast.”

  “Whatever caused the destruction at the music house might have been another powered person like the Titan,” her pupil mused.

  “That’s right. And their power might be even more sinister, like the corrupt Kalistrazi of old. Whatever we’re dealing with, it had the power to kill several men at the same time without detection. I’m not sure what kind of person we’ll find, but I’m sure it won’t be as easy to stop them as it was to talk Titan out of his vengeance.”

  *****

  Thea wailed, inconsolable in her grief.

  As she sobbed, the words she had spoken echoed in the constable’s ears. He turned and looked at the body on the slab. There was no mistaking it, then: it was Helen. Though he had seen her just a few days prior, he couldn’t bring himself to make the connection. There was something about her that looked different, and he couldn’t put his thumb on it.

  The old crone screeched and slapped the investigator across his shoulder. She said something indecipherable and hung her head, gasping for breath. When she looked up again, she wore a scowl, which sent a shiver up Gerard’s spine.

  “You knew Helen was here, and you didn’t tell her family?” The woman’s pocked and scarred face turned red, and she seethed with raw emotion. “Those little girls lost their father, their mother and now their aunt, and you didn’t have the decency to let anyone know that this poor woman had died?”

  The constable turned to look at the newest corpse, his brow furrowed. “It didn’t look like her,” he surmised. “By all accounts, I did not know this was Helen. No one reported her missing, and I had no idea anyone should have been looking for her.”

  Again, Thea bowed her head. She mumbled something about how the recently deceased “should not have mentioned looking for Ormund in the countryside.” She spent some time assigning blame to a few other people and places, including her, but that cavalcade of emotions eventually had her cycling back to Gerard. She squared her jaw and locked eyes with the constable, and that passionate gaze had her looking more like a witch than ever. “I curse you,” she said to him. “I curse you to wallow in the torment of knowing that you failed a woman and ended what little hope of happiness her family had. You will reap what you sow, Constable. Mark my word.”

  She stomped off, grumbling the whole way. The door slammed, and both men jumped at the sound. Gerard had a secondary shock when he recalled that he was not alone. He looked to Schaefer then, offering a nervous grin.

  “I about thought she would rip that door off its hinges,” the coroner said. “Now you see some of the perks of my job. Of course, I usually get people who are grieving. No one blames me for a person’s death—not that you’re responsible at all, that is.”

  “Not realizing it was the poor woman doesn’t exactly help me look any more caring, though, does it?” Gerard asked. “This is Esme’s sister, and I saw her alive the day before we found her in the fountain.”

  “Don’t fret, son,” Schaefer bade. “When people are gone, sometimes they don’t look the same. It’s just part of nature. They lose the spark of life, and what we’re looking at is a hollow shell of what they once were. It’s only normal to realize it’s not a stranger lying before us. They look like creatures that wish to be men and women, but they no longer are. Sometimes, they look downright hideous just a few hours after they’ve moved on. The soul offers much to the appearance, I suppose.”

  The constable shrugged at the thought of that. If that was true, he mused, why did Helen look so much more attractive embraced by death than she did when she was alive?

  *****

  “Slow down,” Marin ordered. The eager prince was not about to listen to her, she realized, and she sped her step to try and catch up with him. The ascent up the stairs did nothing to ease the lingering pain in her leg, but she was finally afforded a brief respite when he turned to enter his room instead of proceeding down that hall. “What are you doing?”

  Kelvin peeked out of his room. “I can’t very well investigate the Leister Alley Music House in my normal attire. The guards there wouldn’t have it. I’m simply more important than that.” He said that last bit with a bright smile and continued into his room.

  The Silver Serpent—who had neglected her clandestine duties for nearly half a fortnight at that point—sighed and followed her ward into his chamber. She watched him cross the room and expected him to disappear behind the privacy screen yet again, but the lad stopped just on the opposite side of his bed instead. He bent low and pulled out a chest, dropping it upon the mattress before him.

  “Something tells me that’s not an expensive tunic,” Marin surmised.

  He wore that mischievous grin again. “I wouldn’t expect I could get away with wearing this to my father’s upcoming celebration, no.” He popped open the latch and turned it about so his mentor could see what he had collected.

  At once, she narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms beneath her bosom. “Why do you do these things?”

  “I’ll just need a place to change when I draw closer to the music house. I can’t rightly do it here.”

  “You’ll do nothing of the sort,” Marin pressed. “You’re not ready for this. If this person—whatever they are—can kill people without so much as touching them, this is an encounter you’ll need to prepare for properly.”

  He shook his head. “With all the trouble that’s been going on in Argos these past few days, the people need to know that heroes still exist. The Silver Serpent needs to heal, but her latest protégé can still make an appearance. Why don’t you relax and let your body finish mending? I can take care of this one, just like I took care of Titan.”

  “I’m telling you, Kelvin,” she said with more force, “you will not go there alone. Give me time to come up with a plan of action, and we can go together.”

  He sent her a devious smile and scooped up the chest. As he moved toward the door, he let a little chuckle escape his lips. “Perhaps you should have chosen your ward more carefully, Marin,” he dared. He noticed her reaction to his using her name but shrugged away any tension that might have reached him. “I’m your prince. Ultimately, my decision is the one you need to make peace with.”

  Her gaze was unsettling enough to put Kelvin off balance. “The Silver Serpent acts outside the law, My Prince,” she reminded. “Don’t misunderstand the nature of our many relationships.”

  That tone was enough to have him giving her a wider berth as he reached the door. Once there, though, he felt liberated enough to offer a little bow. “I’ll have to make a little stop at your house. Under the cover of night, I’ll leave the same way I did before. No one will suspect the Cortes household as the one where heroes appear from.” Though he was aware she still favored that aching leg, he was half-expecting her to lunge across the room and slap him across his face. When she did no such thing, he stood straighter and tapped his hand on the chest in the crook of his arm. “Don’t worry. I won’t get into any more trouble than I’m used to.”

  *****

  Though evening had come to Ippius, one of its residents remained at her place of employment. Marin returned to the library, sitting at the table she reserved for her lessons with her ward. Books were strewn upon it, lessons about their city and the island it was on, as well as farther out—the other two large islands in the Ippius archipelago, the great sea, and the mainland continent of Draconis. Basic
lessons on education, like math and world history, were also present. The book Marin had open before her, though, went into greater detail about Tellest’s magic relics and methods to stop them.

  She blinked several times, as if that subtle gesture could stave off her fatigue. When that didn’t work, she sat up straighter. As her legs pushed her off the floor, she winced. That pain in her leg had still not subsided, even after all that time.

  Marin leaned back in her seat, stifling a sigh. There was no sense airing any complaints about her discomfort. It wouldn’t cure her of her ills. As she reflected on that, she heard a subtle hum. When she rose from her seat and moved into the aisle of that great library, she saw the familiar, coppery red hair of the lad the prince spoke to earlier.

  Once more, Charles had his back to the other visitor. He pulled one book after another from the shelves, until he had a sizable stack in his hands. The lad spun on his heel and dropped them on the nearest table, and before he could turn back to find more reading material, he noticed the educator standing before him.

  “You’re Mistress Cortes, aren’t you?” he asked, reining in his surprise in finding someone there again.

  Marin brought her finger to her lips, hushing him.

  Charles nodded, reminded of how late it was. “Sorry. I’m still getting used to not hearing as well as I could before. I just hope this isn’t permanent.”

  “What are you doing here at this hour?” the woman asked. “Aren’t your parents worried about you after what happened?”

  The lad narrowed his eyes, but time let those enigmatic words translate in his mind. He shrugged. “The show must go on, as they say. My father is still searching for a way to make the King’s celebration as impressive as it can be. My mother has enough to worry about without coddling me; or at least, that’s what I’ll tell myself so that she won’t.”

  “So you came back here to do more research about what killed the judges and damaged your hearing?”

  “The tales of the mandragora seemed a little out of place. From all the research I leafed through, it seemed they’re most commonly found in Lionel. We may be a little too hot for the mandragora plant to survive here. So instead I’ve been looking at what other things could have caused that kind of damage in the music house. I’ve found tales of the basilisk, green fairy dogs, some…” He laughed as his words trailed off. “I should just be thankful for my life, I suppose. I just don’t want to feel that way ever again. The pain was unbearable, and it lingered for a time afterward. I couldn’t see; I was sick to my stomach. I’ve never felt more vulnerable than that moment.”

  Marin nodded. “I’m sorry to have disturbed you. Whatever gives you peace of mind, I say you pursue it.”

  Charles offered a weary smile and turned back to the bookshelf that spoke of mythological creatures, dark magic, and the work of the gods.

  The woman circled around the table, peering down at the literature he had picked out. True to his words, a great many of them seemed filled with mere poppycock. An assortment of silly names seemed to leap off the page: Tangie, Likho, Fir Bolg—they all seemed ridiculous to her. She chortled to herself before picking up a leather-bound volume the lad had not yet had a chance to finger through.

  That one was filled with illuminations of the various creatures, and some were beasts and monsters Marin knew of—the lamia, a serpent-bodied woman who lured children and seduced men but could not work their magic on women; the cerberus, a three-headed hellhound that guarded gates and rifts to other dimensions and realities; willow wisps, friends of goblins and gremlins that led unsuspecting folk into terrible traps that would be their demise.

  Marin sighed, thinking of just how terrible the world would be if those things truly existed. Just as she was about to close that book, though, she happened upon a picture of a woman with her mouth agape.

  When Charles turned once more to offer up his apology to the educator, Marin was no longer there.

  *****

  The sound of shattering glass echoed through the building, and the impressionable prince gnashed his teeth together. There was no turning back, however. He reached through the gap in the window and unlocked the latch. The way into the music house swung open, and he leapt inside.

  As Kelvin pushed the windows shut, the clouds in the night sky parted enough for the moonlight to shine down upon Argos. Some of it pierced through that broken window, landing on the lad in his new attire. He looked at his red sleeves and suppressed a chortle.

  When he turned to proceed farther into the abandoned theater, he glimpsed himself in a large standing mirror and saw himself more fully. Gone was the green and brown attire he had worn and was mocked for. Instead, he was garbed in a bold crimson, with a black domino mask covering his face. He remained there for some time, peering at his reflection, before he felt a chill in that empty place. With the window broken, a cool breeze was left to enter the music house, and even his costume wasn’t enough to stave off that cold.

  Kelvin wasted no more time, casting his gaze away from the mirror to the door on the side of the room instead. When he closed that door behind him, he grimaced as it echoed throughout the building. Without anyone inside the auditorium, the acoustics of the place were even more phenomenal. That room was windowless, and derelict as it was, there were no torches or lanterns lit.

  Those golden halos glimmered around his eyes, and he could see even in that darkness. He had emerged at the top of the auditorium where other patrons would enter to find their seats. Rows of plush chairs rolled down farther than he remembered from his prior experiences in the theater. Argos prided itself on more noble forms of entertainment than other cities on the mainland. Whereas those places held fast to the barbaric amusement of gladiator battles and underground fighting rings, King Nathaniel had worked to give Argos an air of dignity and grace. The Leister Alley Music House was, therefore, terribly named. The words alley and house did not define it well, for the only building larger than that impressive theater was the royal castle.

  Kelvin realized, only in the building’s emptiness, how many people could truly fit in the music house. His gaze fell upon that empty stage beyond those seats. A red curtain was drawn to the wooden platform, but the stage itself, in that darkness, seemed somehow emptier than all the rest of the place.

  The disguised prince began his journey across that huge room, his footsteps muted on the carpeted floor. As large as the place was, he found it strange it remained so silent. A snap of his finger carried the sound throughout the room, and he found himself somewhat settled by it.

  At the front of the room, a small table sat between those plush audience seats and the plain stage. Devoid of any props or art, that empty dais seemed absent of any magic usually present in the place. Kelvin cocked his head to the side, trying to remember the last time he was there. It was just after his brother Helios was sent to train with a mentor far to the east. His father brought the young prince to a show that highlighted the bond between brothers, promising him that the distance wouldn’t separate them but bring them closer. All it did, Kelvin recalled, was make him miss his brother more.

  He shook his head, though, remembering his mission.

  When his gaze returned to the table, he saw the papers scattered about, along with flagons of mead, quills and ink, and a plate that had an assortment of small fruits—grapes, figs, and dates. Five empty chairs sat behind that table, more rigid and plain than the ones afforded to the audience.

  The bodies had been moved, but traces of their presence were there, beyond what remained on the table. Blood stained that carpet near the young prince, and he considered just how awful it must have felt to have your ears burst like that. Whoever sat in that closest seat must have tipped over, the crimson liquid dripping from his head as it hung lifeless.

  He approached the table at a slow pace, as though those bodies were still there and he was working at sneaking past their hollow gazes. Kelvin looked down at the items left behind but remained standing. He wasn’t ready t
o draw any closer to the ghostly presence that might have remained where those poor men were slain.

  As he worked through those items, he noticed an open book beneath an inkwell. Swallowing away his tension, he swept whatever sat atop that ledger aside and picked it up, drawing it close to his face. Even in that darkness, the glow of his eyes aided his search.

  The book was lined with names and explanations of their prior experience. Pages and pages were filled with them, and some were crossed out with a broad line of ink. Most of those family names were lost to him, but there were a few upstanding enough to be familiar, like Conti.

  None of the names were in any order he could determine. Most likely, each name was written as the person arrived and auditioned for the role. Kelvin’s attention was drawn to the last name in that judge’s ledger. A line had been drawn through it but not quite all the way. A glob of ink remained where the quill suddenly stopped.

  “Ciara Delaine,” the prince whispered. He paused as that subtle vocalization flowed into the room. “You were the last person who saw these men alive, weren’t you?” He peered through narrowed eyes and noticed the notes scribbled there beside her name. “The Tavern on Torrah Lane,” he said. “Well, I guess I know how to find you.”

  *****

  The door to that massive manor opened up sooner than she planned for, and by someone whom she didn’t expect. Likewise, Raymond Bellweather was surprised by what he saw when he answered that fierce rapping at the front of his home.

  A legendary figure stood before him, dressed to the nines in her silver attire.

  “Lord Bellweather,” Marin greeted the man. “I’d like to ask you to step outside so that I may speak with you.”

  Faced with the famed vigilante, Raymond could not begin to argue. Without a second thought, he withdrew from the foyer onto the stone step outside. “This is about what happened at the music house, isn’t it? I’ll tell you exactly what I told the guards: my son and I were in the restroom when he was overcome with a fierce pain. When we came out of that room and went back to the judges, they were all dead.”