Rise of the Whiteface Order

by M. A. Torres

  “As I mentioned before... he stole my crystal plant. I’m sure that did him in. Such a foolish boy!”

  Deputy Fred’s frown was still strong on his face.

  “What crystal plant? What did it do to him?” asked Jenny.

  “My crystal plant! My connection to my home!” He raised his voice, agitated.

  There was a soft knock behind them. Jenny and Deputy Fred turned as a nurse opened the door.

  “Hello, officer. It’s time for Mr. Mallory’s medicines,” she said.

  Mr. Mallory’s face brightened. “Ah, sweet peace in a pill! These would be so useful in my homeworld.”

  The nurse handed him a small plastic cup containing a pink oval pill and a small white one. He popped them in his mouth and washed them down with a drink from his mug.

  “Officer, I’ll be at the nurse’s station if you have questions. My name’s Betty.”

  “Thank you, Nurse Betty,” said Deputy Fred.

  After she left the room, Jenny continued. “Mr. Mallory, where did you get your crystal plant?”

  “I brought it with me.”

  “From where?”

  “From my home—far away.”

  “Mr. Mallory... are you from Derathiel?”

  His eyes opened wider. Jenny and Fred traded another glance. Mr. Mallory continued to stare—eyeing them up and down with distrust.

  “Who are you people?” he asked.

  “Mr. Mallory, we can help. We just need to know who you are and what’s going on.”

  “Can you get my plant back?”

  Jenny looked at Fred and he responded with a nod.

  “We can try,” she answered. “Now can you help us? Do you know where Maviel’s Mirror came from?”

  Mr. Mallory jumped to his feet, startling his visitors, who both leaned back in their chairs.

  “WHO ARE YOU TWO?!” he screamed. “HELP!”

  “Mr. Mallory, we mean you no harm! We need your help! Our town is being affected by things we don’t understand! Things from Derathiel.”

  Mr. Mallory began to sob. “They’re coming for me...”

  “Who’s coming for you? Tell us, please.”

  The old man approached them, tears running down his cheeks. “Where’s the mirror?”

  “Somewhere safe,” said Jenny.

  “You must send it away. As far away as you can! Find the deepest volcano and throw it inside!”

  “Wait, wait, wait! Jenny, can you please tell me what the heck is going on?” hollered Deputy Fred.

  “Shush! Mr. Mallory, continue.”

  “The mirror is the link between this world and Derathiel. If the monster’s forces find the other mirror, they’ll be free to come into this world.”

  “What monster?”

  “His name was Zaron, but now goes by Raven. He used to be one of Derathiel’s six gods. He offered me assistance...” Mr. Mallory sat on his bed and buried his face into his hands.

  Jenny crouched beside him and placed a reassuring hand on his back. “Mr. Mallory, you can do this. What happened next?”

  “I helped him build his army.”

  Deputy Fred paced back and forth, squeezing his forehead and staring up into the ceiling. “Jenny, please tell me what’s going on!”

  “I will, Fred, just let him speak.”

  “My daughter, my precious Hayla... I left her alone in that dangerous world...”

  “Go on,” said Jenny.

  “I thought Raven was on my side... He told me I was handpicked by the gods. But he just used me to open the portal.”

  “The portal? What portal?”

  “The one in Maviel’s tomb. It can be opened only by another Maelstrom. It’s where the mirrors were stored. It’s where the portal to the underworld resides.”

  He wiped away his tears with his shirt sleeve. His eyes glimmered with a gold and purple sparkle.

  Those eyes... wow. Jenny was mesmerized by the sight.

  “I did as he pleased,” he continued. “Then the demon emerged. That’s when things changed. Raven’s focus shifted from helping me take the throne to searching for ‘the child.’”

  “The child? What child?” asked Jenny.

  “I don’t know. That was never revealed to me. But soon, I became expendable. One by one, my officers were transformed into tree monsters—beings that could turn others into monsters just like them. Their purpose revolved around that child... finding that child. I sensed my usefulness waning, so I escaped. I held one of Maviel’s mirrors as the light from the other reflected upon me. I was sucked inside, not knowing what would come of it.”

  “So, you were transported through one mirror while holding the other?”

  “Yes... I just needed to escape. What goes through one mirror emerges from the other, but what would happen if you entered one while holding the other? I found out. I got transported into this world.”

  Jenny stood in silent thought for a few moments. “Where did it transport you to?”

  “I awakened in the forest, next to a peculiar tree. Then I walked into town. I had nothing with me—just the mirror, a handful of crystal leaves, and a bag of gold and gems. I was fortunate that your people value gold and diamonds as much as the folks back home.”

  Jenny glanced at Deputy Fred.

  His frown was still present. He squatted next to him. “Mr. Mallory... when was the last time you saw Mr. Mendez?” he asked.

  “The last day he was here. He stole my plant when I was in the privy.”

  “Did he happen to mention where he was going that day? If he was meeting with someone?”

  Mr. Mallory thought for a moment. “No. He was real interested in my plant, though, always inquiring about it. That’s why I’m sure he stole it.”

  Fred looked at Jenny and shook his head. He stood and walked towards the door. “C’mon Jenny.”

  Jenny lingered by Mr. Mallory’s side. “Mr. Mallory... so you said only a Maelstrom could open Maviel’s tomb?”

  “Yes—some type of protection assigned by a higher power.”

  “So how did you open it? Your last name is Mallory.”

  “Mallory is my middle name. I’m Quentin Mallory Maelstrom. I’m the son of the late King Henry and brother of King Xavier. I’m a member of Derathiel’s royal family.”

  Jenny was speechless. All she could do was nod.

  Quentin continued. “I’m pleased I’ve found someone who understands where I’m coming from. People here don’t believe a word I say. They think I’m insane.”

  “Jenny, let’s go,” said Deputy Fred.

  She walked away reluctantly. She needed more time with him—more time to uncover more truths, but Deputy Fred was already upset, and she didn’t want to anger him further.

  “Jenny, come back and visit me. I’ll place you on my visitor list. We can help each other,” offered Quentin.

  Jenny nodded. “I’ll try.”

  Chapter Thirteen:

  A Spectacle of Fire

  The snow fell slow and silent, like thousands of tiny white paratroopers invading the world upon the gloom of imminent evening. They rode into Whitestaff as a column of five pairs, with Captain Cris leading them as the only lone rider. Princess Hayla and Sven rode side by side just behind him.

  The cobble-stone streets flowed with busy people under the candlelit street lamps. Some gave them curious or suspicious stares, but most paid them no mind.

  They rode through the city streets and trotted by a public herald, who was speaking to a group of villagers.

  “The Maelstroms have forsaken Whitestaff in our time of need! How can that green, privileged girl know the needs of our experienced and resilient people? I can see her now, sitting by the fire in her cozy castle, oblivious to our plight! A castle handed to her by her warring brothers—brothers whose reign brought nothing but war and destruction! I say it’s time the people of Whitestaff struck out on their own! It’s time we made our own royal family! It’s time we raised Lord Whitefield to King of the White Land
s and become our own kingdom!”

  ‘Aye!’

  ‘Yes!’

  ‘Kingdom of Whitestaff!’

  The crowd exploded into passionate cheers and chants.

  ‘KINGDOM OF WHITESTAFF! KINGDOM OF WHITESTAFF!’

  Princess Hayla leaned in towards Sven. “I see Lord Whitefield has planted seeds of treason amongst his people.”

  Sven nodded. “Clever of him to turn opinion against you before he betrays you. It won’t come as such shock when he makes his move.”

  They continued into the town square. It comprised of three large wells surrounded by a clearing set up with merchant stalls, offering essential items like meat and clothing, and luxury goods like jewelry and ornate decor. The buildings surrounding the square included popular and integral town venues—the Icedrift Tavern, the Whitestaff Armory, a jailhouse, the Whitestaff Inn, a stone church, a town hall, and a barber.

  Whitestaff Castle, home of Lord Whitefield and his family, loomed just beyond the city limits, upon a rocky hill overlooking the valley. It was not as large or as magnificent as Caste Randall, with only half the spires and half the height. But what it lacked in size and beauty it made up for in strength and simplicity. Even from afar, its white stone walls looked built to withstand—thick and dense. They housed arrow slits every few feet. Battlements ran the length of every wall and tower, as thick as the outer barricade which enclosed the entire fortress. The castle itself was dominated by the largest, widest pair of towers any of the boys had seen. They stood side by side like two pale giants, their white stone finish matching flawlessly with the snow-topped roofs of the buildings before it. Kevin wondered how tough it would be to storm a castle like that, and how much better they would have fared against Raven’s army if Castle Randall was constructed in such a manner.

  Princess Hayla took the lead and gestured for the boys to follow. Then she turned to Captain Cris and the others. “Captain, take your men and rest up at the inn. We should return by midnight.”

  Captain Cris nodded and led his men away.

  “Follow me,” she bid the others. She trotted her horse towards the Icedrift Tavern.

  It was a tall and wide two-story building with a slanted roof and shuttered windows. A few drunks staggered about while another snored on the ground a few yards away, a steaming puddle of vomit beside him.

  The princess dismounted and walked her horse to the racks beside the tavern doors to secure it. Sven and the boys did the same.

  “I think this is a bar,” noticed Matthew.

  Jake’s eyes widened. “A bar? Like with alcohol, and drunks, and bar fights?”

  “Yes, dude!”

  “Oh, man, I’m nervous about going inside!”

  Kevin turned to them. “Best thing to do in places like this is to act like you belong.”

  “How do we do that?” asked Jake.

  “Act confident and unafraid! Remember, you have Tombstone in your bag, Jake.”

  “Oh yeah...”

  “What about me?” asked Matthew.

  “Pretend you have a lightsaber in your pocket,” said Kevin.

  Matthew thought for a moment. “Okay... I can do that!”

  That’s when the child appeared from nowhere. He swiped Kevin’s backpack off Lady’s back and jetted down the side street.

  “HEY!” Kevin bolted after him.

  Matthew dropped his bag at Jake’s feet. “Take care of it!” He took off after the young thief.

  Kevin ran as fast as he could, his armor clanking with each stride and Flameclaw weighing heavy on his back. He sprinted through the evening fog, the snowflakes stinging his face as he hurdled and dodged obstacles and villagers alike. The young thief was quick and shifty, though, speeding around the building corners and through the crowds with ease. He wore a leather cap on his head, but Kevin could see tangled white hair underneath. He wore a coat of brown furs and gray pants, and his boots were black leather. The thief glanced back. He had the clearest of eyes—eyes that looked transparent in the evening light.

  Matthew caught up a moment later. He and Kevin ran side by side trying to keep the thief in their sight, but the boy was small, and the streets crowded. The young thief rounded another corner, pivoting sharply and abruptly. The boys were there moments later. They rounded the corner, and an old woman crossed their path. Matthew dodged, but Kevin couldn’t. He ran into her and grabbed her to prevent her fall while Matthew continued his pursuit.

  “Watch it!” screamed the old woman.

  “Sorry,” said Kevin. He resumed his sprint but was now further behind. The young thief turned right a few streets ahead. Kevin attempted to cut him off on the other side, but the crowd there was denser. He slowed, weaving through the mob, trying to scan the road ahead. A minute later, he bumped into Matthew at the far end corner.

  “Where did he go?” he asked.

  “I don’t know, he turned this way, you didn’t see him?”

  Kevin sighed.

  “What was in the bag?” asked Matthew.

  “My food. My clothes. My phone.”

  Matthew shook his head. “I’ll share my food with you, but I’m out of extra phones.”

  Kevin sighed. “Don’t worry about it. Let’s head back.”

  “Did you get a good look at him, at least?”

  “Yes. He’s younger than us—maybe about ten years old. White hair and clear eyes.”

  “White hair? A ten-year-old?”

  “Yup. Unless he was wearing a wig.”

  “Must have been a wig.”

  They turned back and stared at the maze of roads before them.

  “Hm, do you remember how to get back?” asked Matthew.

  “Uh, let’s just head back towards the middle of the city.”

  They reached the city square minutes later and approached the grounds of the Icedrift Tavern. Sven, Princess Hayla, and Jake were waiting by the horses, their hands in their pockets, trying to stay warm.

  “Did you catch him?” asked Jake.

  “No. The little punk got away!” said Kevin. “He took all my food.”

  “Don’t worry about food, Kevin,” said Princess Hayla. “I brought plenty of gold.”

  Kevin stared at the surrounding buildings. “So where do these Performing Magicians live? Where will we find Viktor Embers?”

  “They’re at the theater, a few streets to the west. Their show will not begin for another hour,” said Princess Hayla.

  “Maybe we can meet with Viktor before the show begins,” mentioned Kevin.

  “The theater will not open until moments before the performance. They are very strict about this rule, in order to protect their show’s secrets,” informed Sven.

  “Sers, forgive me, but I need to meet a potential ally at the tavern,” informed Princess Hayla. “I shall return well before the performance begins.”

  “Would you like me to go with you?” asked Sven.

  “It’s your choice... the tavern is not the most pleasant of places.”

  “It will be fine. I can’t let you enter alone,” said Sven.

  “Let’s go too,” said Matthew.

  “You crazy? We’ll get beat up in there! You see all those drunks? Remember what happened to Luke inside Mos Eisley’s Cantina!” argued Jake.

  “Dude, the princess is going!” Matthew looked at Kevin. “What do you think, Kev?”

  “Jake, you don’t have to come. Matthew and I will go.”

  Jake sighed. “Okay, lead the way!”

  They entered the Icedrift Tavern after the princess. It was a raucous scene. The crowded room was loud with banter—so loud that it threatened to drown out the small band performing onstage. People laughed and joked, as some hollered and argued, while others stood joyously, singing along with the music.

  The band was composed of three musicians—the one playing the lute was tall and skinny, the one beating the drum was short and husky, and the one singing and playing the hurdy-gurdy was of average height and build.

  T
hey followed the princess to a table on the edge of the main room. A man was passed out atop it; a puddle of drool flowing from his mouth. Princess Hayla grabbed him by his shirt collar and dragged him off the tabletop. He fell on the floor and quickly curled up, continuing to snore his night away.

  They sat around the table, leaving a gap over the spot where the drunken man lay. The princess scanned the room and seemed to fixate her stare on a lone man standing by the stage.

  He was abnormally tall. He wore a large, brown leather hat and a long, brown coat. He and the princess acknowledged each other with a subtle nod, then he approached their table. The man dragged the drunk further away, leaving him between their table and another. Then, he took the empty chair across from the princess.

  “Good evening,” he said, his voice deep and raspy. He had an older face, the crow’s feet flanking his eyes gave him an aura of wisdom and experience. His mustache was thick, graying, and converged with a small beard.

  Princess Hayla leaned forward. “Are you Jack?”

  “That is my name. Are you the famed Princess Hayla?”

  “No. My name is Ana, Princess Hayla’s handmaiden and confidant,” she lied. “I was hoping Robert would meet us in person.”

  “I hope you understand. It is a dangerous time. The Whitefields move to ally our people with a mysterious dark knight named Raven. There are rumblings amongst the city that he is powerful and has the support of the fallen deities. Some say they will soon reclaim their lost power and bring forth a second Age of Gods.”

  “The fallen gods, huh? Who told you this?” she asked.

  “As I said... there are rumblings. Robert cannot be seen meeting with outsiders. The peace between him and Lord Whitefield is delicate, and Lord Whitefield’s eyes are everywhere.”

  Princess Hayla nodded, noticing a lone man sitting at a table across from them. He sipped from a tankard, but the princess had caught his stare many times already.

  She lowered her tone. “Tell Robert that the princess will deliver the scroll he needs, but he must come and receive it in person. Tell him to bring his men—those still loyal to him and him only.”

  Jack nodded.

  “Tell him he must be at Castle Randall no later than a fortnight from today,” she continued. “If he would like to travel there sooner, it would greatly please the princess.”