by Brian Olsen
I sit and listen to the birds.
I picture the scene in my head. The plain. The steps. The room.
My cheeks burn. Sweat beads on my forehead. I’m so hot.
I open my eyes.
The forest is gone. But I’m not in the barren plain. I’m not on the steps, and there’s no floating room.
I’m in a dining room. It’s huge. All dark wood. A roaring fireplace. Chandeliers with candles. Gorgeous paintings on the walls, portraits of the masters and mistresses of this house going back centuries. Servants stand at attention at the walls, near the entrance to the kitchens, by a sideboard stocked with wine. There’s a feast laid out on the central table. Two people sit there, a man and a woman. They’re staring at me in disbelief.
It’s my parents. Not Eric and Neve Armstrong.
My real parents. From before.
My father drops his white cloth napkin on his plate and stands.
“Well,” he says. “Come to see us at last, have you?”
Sixteen
“Hello, Father.” I shrug off my traveling cloak and a servant steps in to take it from me. “Hello, Mother. What’s for supper?”
“Back from your world tour, are you?” my father says with a sneer. “Got tired of sleeping on the ground? Of eating in inns and drinking from troughs?”
“They don’t make you drink from troughs in inns, Father. The common people have the audacity to use mugs. Shocking, I know.” I take a seat at the table. “I wouldn’t say no to some food and wine, though. It’s been a long day.”
Father stands for a moment longer, just long enough to establish his dominance, then nods to the servants and sits. Two hurry over and set me a place.
“Hello, Mother,” I repeat. “Nothing to say?”
She wipes her mouth with her napkin. “It’s good to have you home, Kirt. Are you staying?”
One servant brings me a plate of roast boar and vegetables, while another, an old man, pours me a goblet of wine.
“Thank you, Ilt,” I say. “I’m glad to see you’re still kicking.”
Ilt bows, but doesn’t say anything. Father doesn’t like the servants talking during meals unless they’re asked a question.
I dig into the boar. It’s as good as I remember.
“I saw the farms on my ride in,” I say. “Good crop this year, it looks like. The serfs were happy. Any trouble with the manticore this season?”
Father waves his hand dismissively. “I finally killed the damn thing.”
“You did?”
“Yes.”
“All by yourself?”
He takes a swig of wine. “My guard.”
“Ah, yes. That’s what I thought.”
Father slams his goblet down. “What does that mean, boy?”
“I was a boy when I left this castle, Father.” I smile through a mouthful of meat. “I’m not one anymore.”
“Please.” Mother rubs her temple. “No arguing at supper. Tell us of your travels, Kirt. We get so little news all the way out here, and we haven’t been to court since you left. What’s new in the world?”
“Me, Mother. I’m new in the world.” I push my plate away and lean back, placing my legs up on the table. “I’ve decided I’m going to take it over.”
My parents exchange a look, then my father barks out a harsh laugh. “Take over the world, boy? How? Are you going to burn the king’s barn down like you did ours?”
My jaw tenses. “You can’t resist bringing that up, can you, Father? I was five. I’d have thought you’d be proud to have a son with such a strong connection to the Logos at that age. It’s almost unheard of.”
“Logomancy.” He spits on the polished wooden floor. “Never trusted logomancers, and I never wanted one for a son.”
I sit up, pulling my feet off the table. “You’ve made that very clear, Father. Many times.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Mother says. “Our only child is home now, Ka. He can put aside his foolish wanderlust and learn how to be a proper lord.”
Father snarls. “I suppose it’s about time. You’re how old now, boy? Twelve?”
“Thirteen. But I don’t think you heard me, Father. I’ve no interest in ruling this backwoods barony. I’m going to be king.”
Father laughs again. “You’ve got a long wait. There are several hundred people ahead of me in succession. At least.”
“I don’t plan on waiting. And I don’t plan on inheriting.” I take another sip of wine. “I’ve been making friends out there, Father. Friends and allies. The people love me. Some are already calling me ‘the Common King.’ It has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”
Father’s grip tightens on his goblet. “I will not hear treasonous words in my home. Our family has supported the line of King Yar for centuries, and we will continue to do so for centuries more.”
I yawn, just to irritate him. “Yar is a dullard and a fool. He’s let humanity grow weak.”
Mother frowns. “King Yar is beloved, Kirt. Humans are happy and prosperous under his rule. We have not had to send the barony guard to war since before you were born.”
“They were happy, Mother. People are starting to think he’s too lenient on non-humans.”
“What’s wrong with non-humans?” Father puts his cup down and gestures for more wine. As Ilt hurries over with the bottle, Father asks him, “We’ve got some servants who aren’t human, haven’t we, Ilt?”
“Nureen is an elf working in the kitchens, my Lord,” Ilt answers. “And there is a centaur, Chirrof, who works in the gardens.”
Father snaps his fingers. “Chirrof. That’s who I was thinking of. Good man. Horse. Good man-horse. Knows his place.”
Mother waves her fork as she thinks, dripping gravy on the table. “There’s a family of goblins working our land now. They’re new since you left, Kirt. They took over the Fignikchild’s farm after Fig died last year. I wasn’t sure of them, you know the reputation goblins have, but they’re very hard working. Cleaner than I expected.”
I wrinkle my nose. “I doubt that, Mother. I’ve seen how goblins live up close. But the point isn’t whether there’s anything wrong with non-humans. The point is it’s easy to make people believe there’s something wrong with non-humans.” I sigh. “I didn’t come here to talk political strategy with you. I came to solve a problem.”
“And what problem has caused you to bless us with your company after sneaking off in the night more than a year ago?” Father asks.
I take another sip of wine. “As I said, I’m the Common King now. The people think I’m one of them. I hadn’t intended it, but it’s become one of the principal reasons my followers love me.”
Father laughs. “They think you’re a peasant? You?”
Mother smiles. “You have always had a taste for the finer things, son.”
I smile back at her. “I can’t deny it, Mother.” I raise my glass. “This wine is excellent, Ilt. Fine choice.”
Ilt bows.
“What will your new friends do when they find out you’ll be a baron someday, I wonder?” Father says. “Fine mess you’ve landed yourself in, boy.”
“Who are these friends you’re trying so hard to fit in with, Kirt?” Mother asks. “Some tavern ruffians? Not brigands, I hope?”
“You’re not understanding me, Mother. I’m talking about my army.”
“Army?” Father shakes his head. “Still a boy. Playing at soldiers.”
“Oh, it’s a real army, Father. A small one, I won’t deny it. But it’s getting bigger every day. Which is why I’m here. I’m starting to get some renown, you see, and it’s only a matter of time before my true background comes to light. That could be embarrassing. I’d hate for my people to think I’ve been lying to them.”
“Your lies will catch up to you, boy. I’ve always said it.” Father picks at his meal. “More boar.”
As some servants rush over to refill his plate, Mother says, “What exactly have you been saying about yourself, Kirt? Perhaps we can
find a solution.”
“Thank you, Mother. That’s very kind. I’ve been telling people my name is Kirt Nonechild.”
Father spits out a piece of potato. “A Nonechild? You’re not just claiming to be poor, you’re claiming to be a Nonechild? What the hell’s the matter with you, boy?”
Mother puts a calming hand on his arm. “You must admit, son, a story like that is unlikely to stay hidden. Why, there are several hundred peasants living and working on our land who know you as Kirt Kanaxchild.”
“There were.” I take a bite of boar.
“They still know who you are,” Father says. “You haven’t been gone that long.”
“No, no.” I swallow. “Again, you misunderstand me. I mean, there are no longer several hundred peasants on the land who know me as your child. In fact, there are no longer any peasants on the land at all.”
“What the devil are you going on about?” Father pushes his plate away. “I’ve indulged your nonsense long enough. If you’re back to stay, then go up to your rooms and we’ll start out for a tour of the farms in the morning. But if you’re not ready to take up your responsibilities, then take your childish games back to your tavern friends.” He stands. “I’ve had enough. Ilt, I’ll take some of that good brandy we got from the capital in the library. I need something to wash down the disappointment.”
They’ve never taken me seriously.
Father stands and heads for the door to the hall. I make a barrier of flame in front of it, blocking my father’s exit.
He jumps back. “What—” His face is red, and it isn’t from the heat of my flames. “Stop that this instant, boy!”
Mother stands as well. “By the Logos.” She puts her hands over her heart. “You couldn’t do anything like that when you left us, Kirt.”
“I’ve been studying, Mother. Since you would never bring in a real logomancer to teach me, I had to teach myself. Until I found someone who could help me, that is.”
“Someone who could help you?”
“His name is Muln. He casts illusions. I gave him his revenge against some goblins and he’s been helping me with my magic. He says I’m the most powerful logomancer he’s ever heard of. Aren’t you proud of me?”
“Who’s that?” Father shouts. “Some magical ponce filling your head with this nonsense? Bring him here, I’ll cut through his illusions with my sword!”
Mother stares into the fire. “Kirt.” She kneels by my chair. “Kirt, what have you done to the families on our land?”
“I killed them, Mother,” I say. “I burned them all up.”
She gasps and falls back on her heels. Ilt rushes forward to help her to her feet.
“He’s playing, Nax!” Father says. “The guards would alert us if there was a fire. This is a sick joke, boy. And a dangerous one.”
“I told you.” I take another bite of boar. “My friend Muln does illusions. He’s very good. He kept you from noticing while I eliminated anyone who could identify me.” I laugh. “The last few survivors ran here for help. They pounded and pounded on the gate! The guards looked right through them. Your serfs died thinking you had abandoned them.”
“I—” Father’s red face turns white. “No. You lie. It can’t be.”
I twirl my fork. “You did abandon them, if you think about it. Long ago. You sit here in your castle doing nothing while they work the land. Oh, don’t get me wrong.” I twist in my chair so I can get a better look at him. “It’s our right as nobility to take what we’re owed. But you do owe them something in return. Protection, at the very least. How many years did it take you to kill that manticore? Shameful.” I plunge my fork into a juicy potato. “I’ll do better when I’m king.”
Father grabs my shoulder. I sear his palm a little and he pulls it away. I finish my potato.
“Kirt,” Mother says softly. “Son. What are you going to do?”
That’s a good question. I know what I came here to do. But now that I’m here…
It’s fun watching my father realize what’s happening, see how weak he is compared to me. But as cold as my mother has always been, she’s never been cruel.
They are still my parents, after all. Maybe there’s another way forward?
When Father speaks, his voice trembles with barely-constrained rage. “If this is true,” he says, “if you have done this monstrous thing, I’ll see you hang. Son or no son.”
Hm.
“What about you, Mother?” I say. “Will you see me hang?”
She swallows. Then smiles. “Of course not. You’re my son. I mean to say…” She digs her fingers into her palms. “You’re not my son. You’re not anyone’s son. That’s what you want from us, isn’t it? To make sure we never tell? And we won’t. I swear it.”
I take another sip of wine. “So you don’t want to see me punished for what I’ve done, Mother?”
“Of course not.” She steps forward, away from Ilt. She strokes my hair with a shaking hand. “I’m…I’m proud of you.”
I put down my goblet. “Ah. Pushed it a little too far there, Mother. One thing you’ve never been, one thing you could never be, is proud of me.”
I push back my chair and stand. “This is harder than I thought. I’d better get it done.”
Father hits me in the back of the head. He’s a powerful man and the blow sends me face first into the table. My jaw hits hard and I taste blood. I collapse to the floor and Mother is already over me with the carving knife from the boar, stabbing towards my heart.
I incinerate her. I try to make it quick but they took me by surprise, so the flame isn’t as hot as I want. She has time to scream.
Father probably could have finished me off. But he’s crying my mother’s name while he runs for a tapestry to smother the fire. It wouldn’t work, even if I gave him time.
I don’t care as much about keeping my father from suffering as I did my mother, but I want this over with. I make a concentrated ball of heat and launch it at him. It passes through his chest and hits the wall beyond, setting it alight.
My father’s body hits the floor. My mother is already ash and bone.
My heart is heavy. I suppose I wish I hadn’t had to do this. But it’s done now.
Well, mostly. The servants ran off through the kitchen, poor old Ilt trailing last. Muln is hiding all the exits, so they won’t get out. They can burn with the castle.
Maybe I should have killed my parents that way, too. Not come in to see them.
No. I owed them a goodbye, at least.
Oh. I forgot to say goodbye.
I laugh. I can’t help it. The whole situation is so absurd.
I head out of the dining room, towards the main gate, where Muln is waiting. With each step I leave a trail of fire behind me. It won’t take long for the castle I grew up in to be nothing but smoking stone.
Who should we blame this on? Goblins? We’ve done goblins. And people already dislike them. Elves? It might be time to make a big move against the elves…
The castle’s gone. I’m above the barren plain, below the floating room.
I climb to the next step.
I open my eyes. I’m screaming. Sobbing. Shaking. Rolling in the grass.
Someone’s calling a name. Chris, they’re saying. Chris, Chris.
That’s my name.
I’m back in the woods outside school. No, I never left. It was all a dream. A nightmare. A memory.
“Chris, please!” Someone else is crying. She’s trying to grab me, calm me down, but I’m moving too much. It’s Jasmine. Her eyes are red. “Oh, Chris, please, please wake up!”
I try to say her name but I can’t get it out through my cries. But I stop thrashing around and she sees that I’m awake. I collapse into her.
“Ssh.” She strokes my hair. “It’s all right. It’s all right. You’re okay.”
My breathing slows. I wipe my face.
“I came back,” she says. “I wanted to see you teleport. Your eyes were closed and you were crying so I called
for you and you didn’t answer and I couldn’t wake you up and then you screamed!”
“I’m sorry.” My heart is still pounding. I pull back from her a little. “I’m sorry, Jaz. Thanks for coming back. I’m glad you came back.”
“Was it…” She looks around. We’re alone. “Was it…her? The Nightmare Queen?”
I nod. “She’s been sending me nightmares. Memories of things the Common King did. Horrible things.”
She gasps. “Oh, Chris, no! Why didn’t you tell us?”
“I didn’t want you to worry,” I say. “I didn’t want you to think I might be turning into him.”
“We wouldn’t think that!” She hugs me again. “We’re your friends!”
“Please, Jaz, please don’t tell anyone! Don’t tell Nate!”
“But—”
“Promise me!” I grab her forearms. “Please, promise me! I don’t want them to know. They’ll want to find a way to stop it.”
Her eyes widen. “Don’t you want it to stop?”
“No. I can handle it.” I swallow. “She thinks showing me these memories will make me turn into him. But it’s not. It’s making me stronger. He disgusts me, Jasmine. Everything I see of him makes me more determined than ever not to become him. And I’m learning things. Things about him, about Mr. Miller. Things that might be useful to us.”
She sits back in the dirt. “I don’t know, Chris. I don’t like keeping secrets from Nate.”
“I know. I’m sorry to ask this. But please, Jasmine. I might…if I keep having them, I might learn something about my mom. Something that might help bring her back to me.”
Jasmine’s face takes on a more serious expression than I’ve ever seen on her. “That’s why you want us to focus on the magical creatures and not the Nightmare Queen.”
“Not entirely. I didn’t lie about the creatures. I think it’s my duty to get them out of their artifacts as quickly as is safely possible. But yeah. I’m not in a big hurry to stop the Nightmare Queen. Not as long as she’s only coming for me, and not any of you.”
She looks down at the ground for a long moment, then back up at me. “Okay. I won’t say anything. For your mom.”
“Thanks, Jaz!” I hug her quick. “Thank you!”