Arturri held his father by his shoulder. His father was still addled by drugs. He smelled like stale tobacco and old sweat.
He knew where to find his grandmother. She would set everything right. Her private balcony was on the highest floor, overlooking the ballroom.
Heavy black fabric concealed the figure within. The two guards stationed on either side had watched him drag his father all the way from the end of the hall. He was sure that they recognized the two of them. They whispered into the balcony box to let the grandmother know who was coming. Afterwards, they turned to watch him with flat expressions.
“Good evening,” Arturri said, as if his presence was completely normal. It fell to deaf ears. No. He wasn’t meant to be there. They all knew it.
The guards glanced from him to his father as a bit of drool fell from his father’s mouth. This was hard to explain. He cleared his throat. Relax, and play it off. “I know what you fine gentlemen must be thinking,” he chuckled. “It seems he had a bit too much of the old punch. I would love to see my grandmother for a moment. You see,” his voice lowered to emphasize the seriousness of the matter, “we have some catching up to do.”
They set their jaws and stared at him. Of course, it wouldn’t be that easy. Did they think he was threatening her? He was lucky they hadn’t drawn weapons yet. He imagined that it was only on special orders due to the occasion of peace.
But this was his future on the line. He couldn’t go back now. This was his last chance. He took a further step towards the curtains that divided him and reason. “Please, I-”
They shifted to block his path. One of them had what looked like sympathy cross their face, but he shook his head. The other placed his hand on their hilt. “It’s time to go, sir.”
His stomach sank.
He didn’t know what to say. He didn't have time to say it. The sound of wings and inhuman laughter filled the air. He turned to the ballroom from the viewing hall.
What was going on down there? The guards glanced over the mezzanine's edge.
As the guards became distracted, he took the opportunity to go in behind them to the head of the Dar Yi. He pulled back the heavy curtain with his free hand.
Where did they come from? Was it some kind of sick prank? He was sure that he’d hear the news about it the next day. But there were things that couldn’t wait.
His grandmother sat in the booth, wrapped in warm shadows. The only light coming into the room was from the ballroom below. He could sense that they were not alone. There were many ancestors that congregated around her. They were invisible to them, but he could sense their presence. Integrity. Pragmatism. This woman had spent her life living up to the expectations of the head of the Family. She was a polished stone, steady in troubled waters. Usually.
The guards turned back towards him. “Wait, stop!" But his grandmother looked at them and raised a hand. “Let them through.”
The guards eased, acceding to her. “Yes ma’am.”
He felt elated that she would speak with him.
He had never seen her out of sorts before. But there, looking down at the ballroom in dissaray, he saw the disturbed frown resting on her lined face.
He bowed. Although, in the act of doing that, his father started slipping off his shoulder.
She glanced at him. “Put him down beside me, child.”
He set him down at her feet. Not in a seat, for there were none beside her. No, he deserved no better.
She still stared out at the ballroom. “You see them there, Arturri?”
She spoke to him as if he were still part of the Family. As if nothing had changed. But everything had. He wanted to bring her to his reason for coming there or the evidence he had, but he couldn’t speak out. He knew to let her lead any conversation, even if it was to his own detriment.
He looked down from the balcony with her to the swarm of imps. To guests fighting and taking them out, spilling blood on the floor. To the guests of the Dar Yi becoming injured and distressed. “Yes. I see them.”
Her tone was dark and troubled. “The dragon will come. How? How can it come?” she asked, but he wasn't sure if it was a question he was expected to answer.
He knew of the dragon below the Dar Yi Home, but didn’t follow. “I don’t… I’m sorry, grandmother, I don’t understand.”
“No, I suppose you don’t.” She patted her son’s head as he sat on the floor. The grown man leaned against her. His hands folded in his lap like a child. His shoulders even shook a little.
“It is the duty of the Dar Yi to contain it. It is our history," she continued, placing her fingers on her old lips. Arturri could see the wrinkles in her hands and the veins rising against the skin. “We tamed the dragon and learned its powers. We learned to twist stone into earth. Telekinesis. We are of it, and we are its caretakers. There are other dragons, but this is the Dar Yi's. Our heritage.”
She watched the imps wreck havoc at her ball. Within seconds, silver coiling horns rose up, framed by the far windows. The dragon's crown.
Of course, Arturri had heard stories growing up as a Dar Yi. But never had he had the honour or the terror of seeing the dragon in person. He thought it had been a simple myth.
His grandmother looked horrified.
He had his own agenda, but it would be no good if the Dar Yi themselves fell apart in the process. “Grandmother.” He went over and touched her shoulder. She was frail, but the most powerful of all the Family. “What can you do to stop it?”
She mumbled for a second but seemed to come to her senses. “To contain the dragon, there are books in my chambers, but they are too far to reach in time.”
“What can the Ancestors do here?”
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As he spoke, the dragon drifted and struck an exterior balcony with the side of its body as it rose up. The building shook. Arturri could see the size of it as the head of the being came into view. Each of the five wolvish aspects took turns in its spiraling ascent to face them.
“Even if all Dar Yi worked together, I am not confident we could pull the dragon back. To keep it from destroying us is enough.”
Arturri agreed. “We have to make sure people are safe.”
She looked down at her son at her side for the final time. “Your father is gone to us, isn’t he?”
“He is still in there. But he broke his pact.” At least he hoped that his father was still there somewhere. He had no proof of that part, just hope.
She closed her eyes and stood up. “The dragon will tunnel upward. There will be rubble. We don’t know the kind of damage it will cause.”
The imps still flying around below would be an easy thing to take care of. Even while they were thinking about it, he could see a few guests take out a handful of imps. It was only the surprise that had delayed them at first.
As the Head of the Dary Yi stood, Arturri started to get his father up from the floor.
They left the balcony box. The guards from outside were handed her son and told to take him to his room. Then his grandmother looked beyond them, down the hall. Warren, his mother, stood at the end of the hall, staring at them. She looked a mess with her silver hair in a frazzle, falling out from its pins.
Arturri knew that his mother would have hoped to catch him before he got this far.
Warren glanced between her mother-in-law and her son. She probably assumed all the information had passed between them. Let her think so. In reality, the two of them hadn’t even discussed his evidence. But the look of despair and desperation on her face made him feel as smug as if he had.
The head of the Dar Yi had more important things to worry about. The dragon was going to hit the ceiling above their Home. And as a result, rubble would fall on the building. A cave-in would be a serious incident. This was the greatest threat to the Dar Yi. They had to protect Home. She directed the guards to gather all the Family together as soon as possible.
He could only hope that the head of the Dar Yi had this under control. While she took care of the dragon, he'd need to focus on gaining Warren's confession.
Arturri and Warren locked eyes. He had already delivered his father to the head of the Dar Yi. But he hadn’t explained the story, and it wouldn’t do much good without his mother to testify or even confess. He had the evidence, the letters, and the parcel containing the drugs from his master’s desk. All of this pointed to a plot and motive to remove his master. Maybe that was enough. Maybe it wasn’t. But without his mother’s confession to setting up his downfall, it didn’t feel like enough.
Warren paused for a moment at the end of the hall before turning away from them. As if she could deny the inevitable. He couldn’t let her get away from justice. He glanced at his grandmother, who seemed to understand without a word.
The halls were polished, so they weren’t designed to be run on. It had never stopped him before. He easily caught himself as he slipped and kept running. “Come back here!” he shouted.
The noise had alerted a few imps from the fray downstairs, who spotted them from the mezzanine. Three of the creatures flew up and circled overhead.
Arturri looked over his shoulder towards them but wouldn't be slowed. They cackled and swooped down.
Two of them went for the guards, who pulled out their weapons and struck them from the air like mosquitoes.
One landed on his shoulders, and claws wrapped into his hair like a grip. It twisted its head and bit into his shoulder. Fiesty little disease-ridden teeth sank into his shoulder, the bastards. Pain seared through him. He punched up at his shoulder, but it didn’t make much of an impact. Their skin was rubbery against his knuckles.
His mother was getting away. He slammed his back against a pillar to knock it off. It clung on for a moment with a squeal, so he bashed himself against the pillar again. It fell to the floor, losing its grip from the impact. He kept going. His shoulder ached. He could feel the blood dampening the suit. His mother had gone from the mezzanine hall through an archway that led into the inner halls of the Home. That wing led to the servants quarters.
He went after her. The halls narrowed almost immediately. The portraits up on the walls observed them.
He wished that he could feel that connection with his ancestors once more. It would be much easier to stop her from running or restrain an imp with telekinesis.
If he caught her and she gave testimony, there could be justice. He might yet have a chance to rejoin the Family. It was an almost impossible opportunity. He couldn't let it slip away.
The walls were close, and she took every turn that she could to try and throw him off. Memories of his childhood flooded him as he chased her. Sometimes, she showed him little bits of grace. Little moments of kindness. A secret toffee before dinner. Little stories from her youth. They had felt so precious to his young mind. But he was only a tool to her. He knew that now.
He felt the shaking of the building. Something the dragon must have done. It knocked him from his feet. He grabbed the wall to steady himself. Tried to keep moving despite it. He lost track of her in another shake a few seconds later. He could hear the screams from the ballroom. The sound of rock crunching as the dragon’s crown drilled above them.
The chase passed through a corridor with a balcony. He glanced over and could make out the white fur that seemed to be spiralling around the building on its ascent. How big was this creature? It was as if it were making a show of its departure and wanted the whole Home to see it. The piercing sound that it emitted was at first almost peaceful, but went right through him now.
He looked up at the portraits as he entered the deeper corridors once again. There were too many turns. The sounds of her footsteps seemed to come from everywhere at once. Could they still help him now? He knew he didn’t have a pact with them, but they’ve been watching what's been happening all this time. “Please,” he whispered with enough passion that they would know his intention.
Then, in unison, the portraits glanced away from him. All looked toward the same corridor.
Gratitude filled his heart. He raced through the opening they guided him towards. They continued to stare after Warren through the halls. He felt vindicated. They knew that she deserved justice. Their acknowledgement of this almost had him in tears as he ran.
Finally, he rounded the right corner. There.
"STOP!" he screamed.
The building shook once again. She turned to look back at him at just that moment. She lost her footing. She reached out to catch herself, but nothing was there. Her head met the wall. She tumbled onto the old tiled floors, hard.
He went over to her and knelt down to grab her wrist. “Don’t bother running further. You can’t escape what you’ve done. In trying to protect my father, you’ve destroyed not only me, but yourself. And he’s not any better for it, either. You’ve helped no one.”
She didn’t respond to him.
His mind spiralled into a place of worst-case scenarios.
No. No, no, she couldn’t escape justice that easily. She had to testify. He had evidence, but without her, what justice could be done?
He put his hand on her pulse.
He wanted justice for her; he didn’t want her to die. She was selfish and twisted, but he didn’t want that. What would it look like if he was found with someone dead again and no witnesses? He was already convicted. And the Orphans had nowhere to send him but to the tunnels or to die pactless. Death, alone. The thought sent shivers down his spine.
This was all too familiar. He recalled the day it happened before, even now. His master, face down on his desk. He had tried to wake him, and then found the slick of blood on his hands. Stared at them. The blood. It was too much. The stillness.
The memory and his fear brought his heart somewhere dark. He found it hard to focus his vision. He was breathing too quickly. He couldn’t stop.
But then, a beat. Pulse. She was still alive. It was weak, but there. She must have hit her head in the fall. He didn’t have any way to save her. They were far from anyone.
He almost collapsed from the relief that she lived. He took a few seconds to compose himself. Wiped sweat from his brow and swallowed.
He wasn’t sure if he should move her. But she could hardly be left where she was. He checked her for any blood. No. It had been blunt damage and hadn’t broken skin. He couldn’t handle more blood on his hands.
He picked her up to carry her back. She was lighter than she had imagined. There had to be a way to revive her. There were Eazu at the ball who specialize in healing, as long as the building was still standing by then. That was all he could hope for.