by R D Wolfe
He moved passed Darien without a word and stood in the middle of the room looking back at Darien in the doorway.
“Close the door,” Rist commanded.
“What’s wro—” Darien tried to ask, but Rist cut across him before he could finish.
“Close. The. Door.”
The voice had returned to the tone which made the hairs on Darien’s neck stand up. His mind began to race as he fulfilled Rist’s demand. Had the dark figure discovered what he and Chorrun had been trying to keep secret? Was Rist here to draw answers out of him, and reveal that Darien was really clueless about everything that was happening?
The two stood in silence facing each other for several moments before Rist finally spoke.
“What are you wearing?”
The question caught Darien off guard. It was the last thing he had expected his cloaked companion to ask him.
“What?”
“What are you wearing? Where did you get those clothes?”
Darien was thrown by the other’s sudden familiarity. They had barely spoken a dozen sentences to each other since they met, and here they were talking about clothes as if they were friends from home. Darien found it strange, but also oddly comforting.
“They were here when I woke up. I fell asleep, woke up, and they were on the edge of my bed. Look, what are you doing here?”
Rist stood motionless for a moment then waved his hand to dismiss the topic. “We have a problem. Someone in this castle doesn’t belong. I can’t tell who, what, or where, but something is wrong.”
“What do you mean?” Darien asked, not sure if Rist was talking about him, or someone else in the castle. “With one of us?”
“No,” Rist moved toward the window, looking out and peering around the edge as if looking for something. “It’s someone else here. I started to feel it in the council chamber with Aghemnon and Marenya, and it’s only gotten stronger since, but it wasn’t anyone who was in that room. I was short with you last night as I had to determine that you weren’t the one I was seeking. You weren’t. If we are to work together, we have to be able to trust one another completely. That is why I came to you now.”
“Oh,” said Darien, a wave of relief washing over him.
“‘Oh?’ That’s it? I come to you saying there’s something wrong, and all you can say is ‘Oh?’” Rist sounded almost annoyed.
“No, no, sorry, I was distracted,” Darien moved to sit on the trunk at the foot of his bed. “So, you have a feeling. That doesn’t necessarily mean anything is wrong. I’m sure Chorrun or the King would have noticed if something was off, too.”
“No, you don’t understand,” Rist shook his head. “Do you know nothing about my people?”
“Not really,” Darien replied sheepishly. “I know more about, you know, humans, than anything else.”
Rist hesitated and waved his hand again, as if pushing something out of his mind before continuing. “Emotion is energy. The two are synonymous. Just like light and heat are energy, emotion is just as much energy as those.” Rist noticed the skepticism on Darien’s face. “What? You don’t believe me?”
Darien hesitated, not wanting to upset his new ally.
“I dunno, I guess… I’ve just never experienced emotion like that.”
“Haven’t you?” Rist asked, an odd intensity creeping into the chill of his voice. “In any battle you’ve ever experienced, was there never a time that your emotions impacted the actions of those around you, even though you didn’t say a word? When in combat, doesn’t the way you feel dictate your performance?”
Darien couldn’t argue there. There had certainly been times where his mood had impacted the rest of the team, and times when their emotions had directly impacted him, all without saying anything at all. He knew that if he was nervous about a match, his team would be, too as if they could feel it.
“I suppose,” Darien admitted, begrudgingly. “How do you ‘feel’ emotion though? What’s it like?”
Rist tilted his head as he kept his hood turned towards Darien. “Can you describe what it’s like to feel hot?”
“I suppose not,” Darien said after several seconds, thrown by the question.
“That doesn’t matter. Regardless of whether you believe or understand it, it is true. My people can sense this energy, just like you may feel heat, or cold. It’s a sense, and we feel it most powerfully amongst our own people. However, we have always been able to sense emotion in others, though not as effectively.”
“Okay…” Darien was still unsure. “So what does that have to do with this ‘feeling’ or whatever you think it is?”
“I don’t know,” Rist began to pace back and forth quickly. “But something isn’t right.”
“Okay, so what now? Who is it?” Darien asked.
“I don’t know.” Rist stopped in his tracks, turning his head toward Darien.
The two stared at each other for several moments, Darien never taking his eyes off the black-cloaked figure whose face, it seemed, stared back at him.
“Okay, would anyone here know about your… I don’t know what to call it, ‘ability’ to sense emotion?” Darien asked.
“Without an extensive knowledge of our people, it’s unlikely. Even when our world openly interacted with Olympus, we did not speak much of the ability. It tends to make people uneasy. I bring it to you only because I believe I can trust you to keep it in confidence, though I’m not sure why that is…” The cold voice trailed off.
Darien felt a pang of guilt at the knowledge he was keeping secrets from Rist. Suddenly concerned that this feeling would give him away, Darien looked up to see if his companion had noticed anything, but there appeared to be no change.
“Okay, well, thanks… I appreciate that. Rist, I have to wonder, now. Can you… can you feel my emotions?” Darien asked hesitantly.
Rist squared his body to Darien as he finished his question. “Strange. I hadn’t noticed before now, but you are dark to me. When I focus my entire attention on you, I get almost nothing. We will have to explore the reasons why that may be. It’s… fascinating.”
Darien, relieved at this, quickly continued their conversation. “How come you haven’t noticed this before?”
“I hadn’t focused my entire attention on you like I just did,” Rist said flatly, as if this were a ridiculous question for someone to ask.
“Why does that matter?” Darien asked, feeling like a first year back at The Academy.
Rist sighed deeply before answering. “It’s like voices in a room, you can listen to the general noise, hear the general tone of those around you. Or, you can focus in on one person’s words and get the fullness of what they’re saying.”
“So, you were feeling for my… tone?”
Rist nodded.
They sat in silence for several seconds.
“So, here’s what I think,” Darien started. “Now that you’ve told me, that gives us the advantage. There’s no way anyone here would think that we know anything is wrong. That means we can watch without anyone knowing what we’re looking for. There’s a party in a while, right? We keep an eye out there, and act if we need to. I’ll keep my sword nearby, and you keep your… what do you even use?”
Rist laughed, deep and heartily, the iciness of his voice vanishing for a moment.
“I carry what I need.”
“I don’t think I even want to know what that means.” Darien smirked, somehow feeling as though he had gained his first true ally.
Chapter 15: The Thief
Rist stepped out of Darien’s quarters, leaving him alone in the ornate room. After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, he decided it was time to find Evatra. He asked a troll to direct him to where she was staying. When he reached her door, he found himself too nervous to knock.
Get a hold of yourself, it’s just Evatra
Shaking off the feeling that had just come over him, Darien knocked on the solid wood of the door.
“Come in,” she called.
She wore a vibrant blue dress, lined with white lace. It flowed around her, giving her the appearance of a princess, or some other noble lady Darien had seen wandering the castle. A slit in the dress exposed her bare leg from the knee down.
“What are you staring at?” she asked.
“What? Oh, nothing, sorry. I just… I’ve never seen you looking so…” Darien trailed off.
“I know, it’s hideous,” Evatra scowled at the clothes.
“Beautiful.” Darien felt ridiculous as the words left his mouth, but it was true.
She paused, studying Darien as he continued to follow the lines of her dress.
“That’s enough of that,” Evatra said, snapping her fingers at him. She turned and glanced back over her shoulder at him. “But thank you.”
She could be feminine after all.
“No problem,” Darien shook himself into focus.
“This place is so strange, don’t you think?” Evatra asked, sitting on the edge of the elegant bed.
“It’s definitely different from anywhere I’ve been before.” Darien went to sit in the desk chair before the large mirror. “So, with what you’re wearing, I guess you’re going to stay for the dinner?”
Evatra let out a noise somewhere between exasperation and resignation.
“The King insisted that he bestow his hospitality as a thanks for ferrying you safely here. I’m staying for dinner tonight and leaving first thing in the morning. I need to get back to Atreya.”
Darien nodded, feeling an uncontrolled sense of relief and happiness that she would stay, at least for a little while longer.
“What did you and the one in the robes talk about? I don’t even want to try and pronounce his name.”
“Just call him Rist, it’ll be easier,” Darien shrugged. “We didn’t really talk about much. I think we’ll get to know each other better later. He seems cool enough, though.”
“Cool?” Evatra asked quizzically. “You mean his voice?”
“No, you know, ‘cool.’ It means, you know …” Darien thought, placing his hand on his chin, considering. “I’ve never thought about how to define that to anyone before. Anyway, I think we can trust him. I have to I guess.”
“I wouldn’t, but then again I’m not one of the ‘Illustrious Four,’” Evatra teased. She reminded him so much of Kara. Darien shot her a dirty look, hiding his homesickness.
The two of them sat together, discussing aimlessly about whatever came to mind. She asked more about what his life had been like back at The Academy, and he asked her more questions about being one of Totra-Dal’s marauders. After some time, Darien stood to stretch his muscles, realizing that the sun was close to setting.
“Whoa, between you and Rist, I’ve talked the whole day away,” he said, stunned once again. “I gotta get back and get ready for this dinner.”
Evatra nodded, and Darien went to open the door.
“Darien?”
He turned, just outside the threshold, and looked back into her quarters. Evatra glided over the smooth stone floor to where he stood, close enough for him to see his reflection in the the deeper black of her eyes.
“I don’t know when I’m going to get to say this,” she said in a soft tone, quieter than he had ever heard from her before. “I just want to say thank you, for everything. You saved my life, then Atreya’s, and soon you’re going to save the whole world and… I’m not good at this, but… well… thank you.”
She stood on her toes, and placed a soft, warm kiss on his cheek, lingering for several seconds before stepping back, smiling, and closing the door.
Darien stood outside her door for what felt like hours, his hand raised to the still-warm spot on his cheek, mind was completely blank. Regaining himself, he turned back towards his own room, happy Kara wasn’t around to see that.
Shortly after returning to his room, there was a knock on the door. An elegantly dressed troll woman stood in the doorway.
“Good evening, sir,” she said. “His royal highness, King Aghemnon, requests your presence with the others in the dining hall.”
Darien strapped on his sword belt, concealing the weapon with a cloak that had come with his new clothes. The expression on the troll’s face didn't change as she watched.
Coming out into the hall, he saw the others waiting for him. Rist was still in his stark black robes, the Scillan was dressed similarly to Darien, Chorrun wore a vest of fine black cloth, and Evatra still wore the stunning blue dress. Rist and Darien walked side by side, led through the hallways by the troll. Making their way through the corridors they came to a large set of doors, two guards standing on either side. The guards stepped forward, each grabbing a handle of the carved wooden doors and pulling them open.
The interior reminded Darien of the entrance hall, incredibly large and lavish. A long table sat in the center of the room, and torches affixed to the walls cast strange shadows about the space, as the light from one torch fought to overtake the light of another. At the far end, Darien saw Aghemnon, who, noticing them, stood, speaking in a booming, jovial voice.
“Trolls of Farkland Reach,” he boomed, “I present to you two members of the Four from our sister worlds—the heroes of this Cycle who will save us from Cyprin and his tyranny. Rise with me and give them welcome!”
His voice was magnified across the hall as Darien and the others approached. The rest of the trolls rose, clapping and cheering. Darien saw the Queen, Marenya, to Aghemnon’s right, gently applauding. Their host motioned to chairs at their end of the table, and the group took their seats. The table was large, seating at least forty other trolls, all of whom were elegantly dressed.
The cacophony died as they sat down. Darien found himself between Rist and Chorrun, a place he felt fairly comfortable in. Of the people he had met so far in this crazy journey, these were the two who he was beginning to think he could call friends, save for Evatra who was… leaving soon. She sat across from him with the Scillan, smiling at him when they made eye contact for the first time since Darien had left her room. He felt an uncomfortable, but not unpleasant lurch in his stomach.
“Now that the guests of honor have joined us, let the feast begin!” Aghemnon called out.
The meal was one of the most magnificent that Darien had ever enjoyed. The food was delicious, cooked to perfection. The drinks were sweet, and everything pleasantly warmed his stomach. Various trolls played music and danced around the table. Between the conversation and laughter, were a seemingly endless stream of questions, so many questions. Some trolls came closer to Darien and the others, introducing themselves as the thane of this keep, or the magistrate of that district in the city, before saying how honored they were to meet members of the Four, shaking hands before scurrying along.
The festivities lasted for hours. The entire time Darien kept the thought of Rist’s warning in the back of his mind. He studied each person’s face as they approached, searching for any sign of deceit, danger, or anything else he could pick out. To Darien’s relief, all he noticed was genuine excitement and curiosity. At one point, Darien leaned into Rist to ask if he had felt anything. Rist just shook his head without saying a word. Passing a bite of food into the dark shadows of his hood.
As the night began to drag on, various guests, including the Scillan, began to excuse themselves, citing the lateness of the evening. Eventually, only Darien, Rist, Evatra, Chorrun, the King and Queen, and a few servants remained.
“I do hope you have enjoyed your evening,” Marenya said cordially, her speech a little slurred from the drinks of the evening. Darien had purposefully avoided that part of the meal, recalling his troublesome encounter with Totra-Dal’s prized freolia.
“We have, thank you,” Evatra replied with a soft smile.
“Come now, let us be off to b
ed,” Aghemnon said, rising from the table. Darien and the others followed in kind.
The halls were eerily quiet as they returned to the guest quarters. Darien glanced at Rist several times during their walk, but the shadowed hood never turned towards him. Eventually, the group came to a landing above the entrance hall where Darien and the others had come through earlier that day. As they made their way through the open hallway, a door crashed open, and they saw a figure running towards the castle entrance.
“A thief! A thief! He has stolen the sword!” A pained and panicked voice echoed through the hall.
The six stopped in their tracks. Rist and Darien glanced at each other before Rist, in a move that Darien would not have believed possible if he had not seen it, threw himself over the side and fell the fifteen feet to the floor below and began running after the figure. Darien, pausing for only a moment, threw off the cloak around his shoulders and ran to the stairs that led down to the ground floor. He rushed out the door, catching sight of Rist’s black boot disappearing around the corner of the outer castle wall in front of him. Darien ran as fast as he could to catch up and found Rist chasing the figure down the street.
Darien looked around and saw another street parallel to the one Rist was now running down. Thinking that if the thief turned, he could catch him, he took off. Voices shouted behind him as castle guards began to stir. He could hear Rist’s pounding boots in the side alleys between the two main roads. Unless the culprit planned to scale the city wall, he would have to turn down Darien’s street eventually.
The roads converged, and Darien found himself ahead of Rist somehow, gaining on the thief. They turned through a number of small side streets, Darien keeping pace with the thief all the while. A small gate appeared in front and to the right of the thief, who thrust his shoulder into the metal, breaking the lock that held it shut.
“Darien, wait!” Rist called from somewhere behind, but Darien kept running. He wouldn’t let this criminal get away with the first weapon before they even had a chance to hold it. It was the first key to opening the doors to the mountain. It was his way home.