Despite Van’s cryptic clue regarding Shrale’s emblem, he wouldn’t tell Raven anything more or lead him to it for another two days. He claimed he had to study for upcoming tests, and when Valentine offered to help him, there was no convincing him to reveal his secret. It was complete hogwash, but Van was trying to impress her. And since Raven was beholden to comply with such a scheme as part of their deal, he was left to stew for the two days. In fact, he was concocting plans of painful torture on Van when the intended victim walked into his room the morning after the exams.
“Ready to go?” he asked.
Raven smirked, and all rancor was forgotten. He would at last get his answer.
Valentine was waiting in the courtyard, and together they whisked off into the snowy blunder of the city. Van led them in the direction of the Doolittle District, where political and intercity affairs were handled.
“How did you do on the exams?” Valentine asked, as they pressed on through span-high snow.
“Thanks to your help, I got passing marks,” Van replied. “Better than passing. Fanny even said she was impressed. What about you?”
“Perfect marks on all my tests,” she replied with a flip of her hair and an imperious smile. “I definitely won’t be challenged until I’m taking my Suna classes.”
“So, you got first?”
“Yes… well… tied for first. Someone else got perfect scores as well.”
Van glanced at Raven. He smiled broadly.
“So besides the freak, you’re top of the school.”
Valentine laughed nervously. “You say that, but I think we’re all freaks here.” Her expression changed to one of disturbing and nearly wicked amusement. She placed a hand on Van’s shoulder. “Because you have some secrets, too, don’t you, Van?”
He gulped. “Whaaaaaat?” he said, trailing off.
“Yes, quite a few, I’d guess,” Raven said. “But let’s focus. Where are we going?”
“We have to stop by City Hall to get a permit.”
“A permit? For what?”
“To take the tunnel.”
Valentine’s jaw dropped. “The Black Side Tunnel? My parents won’t let me go. They’ve forbidden it.”
“Oh.” They stopped. Van shook snow from his hair and frowned. “Why?”
“It’s… you know. It’s dangerous.”
Raven hummed. “I think she’s just afraid.”
Valentine glared at him. “How dare you! I’m not afraid of anything.”
“Then you’re not afraid to defy your parents and take the tunnel.”
She frowned. “Fine.”
“Good.” He and Van continued on. She hesitated and then raced to catch up.
“I see what you mean,” she said to Van. “He can be a devil.”
“Told ya.”
City Hall was nothing more than four walls and a door. This did not surprise Raven in the slightest since the Church and the Titan had more clout than anybody else in the city. The clerk inside was immediately resistant to comply with a teenager’s request for a permit. But when Van produced a metal object from his pocket and flashed it at him, he immediately began writing up the permission. Raven thought it looked like some kind of ring, but Van quickly stashed it away.
In no time, they were back in the cold and Van led them toward the mountain face. A steep road down into a valley ended a half hour later at the mouth of a wide tunnel carved into the mountain, guarded by two clerics equipped with spears. The entrance was shaped like the mouth of a fish, but two fangs of ice extended down from the top. Water steadily dripping made the fangs appear to be bursting with poison.
Upon inspecting the permission, the guards regarded them suspiciously but eventually allowed passage.
The dark path didn’t seem so dark once they stepped inside. In fact, the warmth was pleasant, and the walkway was straight and inviting, with smooth concave walls lined with pandora lanterns. But after about twenty minutes, the tunnel ended, and all pleasantness was lost.
The black side of the mountain was a steep plunge. Pine trees of deep, deep green covered the many crags, sparse in their needles and lacking any pleasant smells normally associated with evergreens. Some were planted on patches so narrow, they tilted sideways just to take root. From the mouth of the tunnel, the smallest of paths hugged the mountain, driving a winding path wherever footing could be found. And what footing existed was buried in snow some places, or slick with ice in others. If Raven hadn’t known a path existed, he would have supposed there wasn’t one.
Van leaned over the edge, gulping as he stared down the incredible drop.
“Still up for this?” he asked.
But he didn’t get an answer. He turned to find Raven already taking the path, keeping close to the wall but descending comfortably.
“Oh, c’mon now Van,” Valentine said, holding out a pandora. “This is child’s play, isn’t it?”
The card burst with radiance, and luminous wings materialized behind her, majestic in appearance. She took a short jump and lifted into the air. With a playful smile and an arch of her eyebrow, she turned and followed after Raven in easy flight. The fact that she was hanging above a sure plunge to death for anyone else was of no concern. Van didn’t think he could love her more. He raced to catch up, mimicking Raven’s surefooted steps as best as he could.
“I thought I was leading this little excursion,” he said after several minutes.
“You’ve made it quite clear,” Raven replied, pushing a pine branch out of his way. “There’s only one reason to come this way. We’re going to Supenheil.”
“But what could possibly be of interest there?” Valentine asked. Van’s foot slipped on an icy rock at that moment. She snatched his arm and nudged him back onto the path. He attempted to express his gratitude, but it was much more like babbling. Without missing a beat, Valentine continued. “Isn’t Supenheil just a squatter’s paradise?”
“Yes, for the most part,” Van said, tip-toeing on a razor thin ledge. “But it’s not what we’re looking for. It’s who.”
Raven jumped down, landing on a wide rock plateau. He looked up at them. “Someone who knows about the door?”
Van jumped down. Valentine landed lightly beside them, and her wings vanished.
“No. Someone who knows a lot about Valius Shrale,” Van said. “C’mon.”
He resumed the lead, following a much easier path down a crumbling staircase, until they reached a less steep part of the mountain. The outline of the grisly village could be seen among the black trees and brambles. Raven associated it with a village, but Supenheil was really more of a gathering of many campfires and tents, where the lowest of lowlifes gathered. But there were some ramshackle huts, built of wood softened by snow from many winters long since passed.
They made their way down, pushing through incredible snow piles. There were a few Bomfrosts in these parts, but the trees were dormant, completely filled up with snow and looking content to ride out the rest of the winter. The trio finally made it to the encampment and passed through a pitiful entryway of splintered wood beams. Several people huddled beside nearby fires turned to look at them, some instinctively reaching for weapons while others disregarded them. A few, however, followed them with wicked smiles.
Van put his hands in his pockets. “Never changes, Supenheil. They should burn this place to the ground.”
“You’ve been here before?” Valentine asked with a smirk.
“Oh, well you know. Not on purpose or anything.”
“How would you get here by accident?”
“No, what I mean is, I never came here for a real reason.”
“Sightseeing then?”
“Call it morbid curiosity.”
“Be needin’ any help, young ones?” a brutish voice interrupted. A barrel of a man with large ears approached, staring directly at Van. “I thought I told ya never to come back, lad.”
Van issued a fake nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his head. “Me? I’m just a student. I think you have me mistaken for someone else, sir.”
The thug grabbed Van’s jacket, growling. Valentine gasped. But Van regarded him coolly, putting his hands back in his pockets. There was a significant moment of silence, broken only by the further squeezing of Van’s garment.
“I feel like we’ve done this before,” Van finally said. “How did that turn out for you last time, my man?”
The man flinched, growling deeper before finally dropping him. He walked away, mumbling something incendiary about thimbles.
This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“Well, that was… interesting,” Valentine said. “Care to explain?”
“That pleasant fellow is called Danne Taggert,” Van replied, smoothing out his mantle. “I may have been the reason he spent some time in prison.”
“Oh. He’s a criminal then?”
“Yeah. And he’s already wanted by authorities again. That’s why I nicked this from his belt.” He held up a pandora. “He’ll be in prison again within a week. So, might as well.”
Raven laughed. Valentine seemed a bit overwhelmed, but after a moment, she rolled her eyes and smiled exhaustedly. “Can we get on with the task at hand, please?”
“Ah yes. Marcus Shrale. His hut is this way.”
“Shrale?” Raven repeated as they resumed following him.
“Yes. If you’re about to ask… well, I’d better just let you see for yourself. I have to warn you, though. I’ve heard this guy’s a bit of a loon.”
It wasn’t long before they stood before a short rickety staircase leading up to a two-story hut on stilts. This structure wasn’t as dilapidated as most of the others. The windows were intact, albeit filthy, and mold wasn’t growing in every nook and cranny. Compared to the rest of the camp, it was a palace. And finely etched into the doorframe was the mark of Valius Shrale. If Raven hadn’t known what to look for, he would have missed it, but because he did, it was like a glorious sign they were on the right track.
They climbed the stairs and opened the door, stepping into a very confined space. What would have otherwise been a moderately spacious room was crammed to the gills with clutter.
“This place makes Fanny’s room look splendiferous,” Valentine said, scrunching her nose at their surroundings.
Among the piles of newspapers, broken furniture and other useless debris were a few scant display cases. Through severely smudged glass, they could see objects presented as antiques, but looking rather like all the other junk outside the cases. Van reached to touch one of them when a shout stopped him in his tracks.
“OH MY WORD!”
They looked to the corner of the shack to find a man at the bottom of a narrow staircase, staring at them in delight. He came down the last few steps and held out his hands to them.
“Customers! In my shop! Oh goodness, what to do, what to do?”
The middle-aged proprietor was lumpy and his face was severely spotted with lentigo. He wore the rattiest robes that could ever be conceived by even the most talented imagination. Threadbare and tattered, the garment consisted of more repaired stitching than actual fabric. But the oddest site of all was the pandora affixed over his right eye. The card was wedged against his nose. The image on the pandora was an eyeball, and it moved as his other eye did, looking directly at them.
“What can I do for you?” he asked excitedly, grabbing his face. “Can I get you some water? Perhaps some tea? I think I have some around here. Oh dear, what a mess. But oh, how exciting to have you here. Do you want to look at the things I have for sale? Come see. Come see what I have!”
As they followed him to the nearest case, Raven glanced at Van. Is this him? He silently asked.
Van nodded. Told you. Loony.
Marcus Shrale was bombarding Valentine at the moment, telling her all about the special items in his cases.
“Mr. Shrale?” Raven interrupted.
“Oh, yes! You have a question, young sir?”
“Yes, we are very interested in the hero, Valius Shrale. But there’s surprisingly very little known about him. Would you happen to know anything more?”
The sincere joy that came over Marcus was so severe, it would have been easy to think Daytime Day had come early.
“Valius Shrale? Are you kidding me? I know everything about him! Don’t you know? He’s my great-great grandfather! I’m the true descendant of Roespeye’s greatest hero! See this incredible robe I’m wearing? It was his! I’ve never even washed it. You can still see some of his blood from when he died. See? Right there.”
Valentine failed to stifle her sneer.
But Raven stayed on point. “That’s amazing. So, what else can you tell us about him? We’re all incredibly interested. Uh, he’s our hero, in fact. We want to write essays on him for school.”
Marcus folded his arms a little too tightly, as if he were giving himself a hug. He gave them a knowing smile. “The masters won’t tell you anything, is that it?” He shook his head and exhaled with absurd exaggeration. “They try to shut me up, but they can’t do it forever.”
“Who is trying to shut you up?” Van asked.
“Those… people,” he nearly shouted. “They all want what I have, but I’m the true heir. They just wish they could be me, but they can’t!”
“Who are—”
“I can only imagine how hard it is,” Raven said quickly. “We can’t even fully describe how much they’ve done to prevent us from coming here. But we made it. And now, if you can, please share with us everything you know about the great hero. We are so desperate to learn about him. And that’ll show them. We’ll show them all!”
“That’s right…” Van managed, trying to match the enthusiasm but failing badly. “We’ll show them all… with our essays.”
Marcus preened silently, folding his arms again and looking between the three students with delight. Then he nodded his head toward the staircase.
“Come on. Let me show you a world you probably only dreamed of.”
“In our nightmares,” Rue said in disgust.
Marcus glided toward the staircase. Raven followed close behind with the others in reluctant tow. But their hesitance vanished as they ascended the staircase. For when they reached the second floor, all trace of dirt, grime, and filth was replaced with shiny brass, deeply polished mahogany and display cases of pristine quality. It rivaled any museum in luster. Raven was impressed, and his hopes began to rise about the man’s obsession with his ancestor. Could he provide them with clues to the door?
Marcus again silently plumed watching their transfigured faces. He offered them a settee with bright red cushions on which to sit.
“How on earth did you afford all this?” Van asked.
“Oh, I get everything I need from the Fyre Fund. Anything I make from my shop is a bonus.”
Valentine groaned.
Raven went right to work.
“Sir, what can you tell us about Valius Shrale?”
Marcus clapped his knees. “Well… as you know, I am his descendant. As such, I’ve inherited many of his possessions, passed down from one Shrale to the next. And I’ve dedicated my life to studying him. He was a grand figure in history, and it was he alone that saved Nine Star Academy from ruin.” He plucked at his eye as if to remove a tear that wasn’t there. “Giving up his life to save his precious students. How grand. And to think that I am his true descendant.”
“Tell me. Did he ever tutor students? Or take on apprentices?”
“No. Definitely not. In fact, he often said his time was much too valuable for teaching at all. But the money and time allowed him to pursue his other endeavors.”
Raven frowned. Uh oh.
Valentine continued in his stead. “Where did he study? Considering how important his work was, he must have needed a lot of space and resources.”
The height of Marcus’s exultation was reached. He sat back and spread out his arms. “This… is the place he studied and worked. This very room. Can you believe that?”
Raven’s frown deepened. He could not have been more disappointed. Van was trying to hold back laughter, but Raven found this man’s ignorance exasperating. Marcus didn’t know anything about Valius Shrale! This whole jaunt down to Supenheil was starting to feel like a huge waste of time.
“You, uh, said you inherited some of his possessions,” Van said, recovering. “Would you mind terribly showing us?”
“Not at all! Come, students. Come. This way.”
He stood up and led them to a series of display cases lining the walls between large glass windows. Based on the grand and expensive appearance of the cases, Raven expected equally astonishing items of antiquity. But again, he was severely disappointed. There was nothing but everyday objects inside.
“See this blank sheet of paper?” Marcus asked them. “This is the last sheet from Valius Shrale’s own stockpile. “And this smooth rock here, now this is truly wondrous. This rock sat on his own desk for years. He used it to sharpen quills and letter openers. Oh, and here is one of his shoes…”
Van snorted in laughter before quickly covering it up by pretending to sneeze. But Raven and Valentine stood before the cases, disillusioned by this man’s nonsense. Their momentary hope that he might provide some clues about Valius Shrale were dashed. They were back to square one.
However, Marcus must have realized their discontent, because he suddenly raised a finger into the air and nearly shouted.
“But wait! This is just the beginning!” His voice warbled nervously, and he issued a trebling laugh. “You haven’t seen the really amazing items I have. The things the masters would just love to get their hands on. You have no idea!”
“What things?” Valentine asked.
He slowly brought his hand down. His smile became nervous, and a gleam of sweat appeared on his forehead.
“Very, very special items. Truly priceless artifacts from that time.”
“Shrale, everything you have shown us thus far is preposterously lame,” Raven said. “We bragged to our teachers that we were going to learn the truth about Valius from you, and they laughed at us. They said you were a liar.”
“They… they what?” He became red-faced. “I am Valius Shrale’s descendent. I AM! I AM! I know everything about him!”
“Then help us believe you.”
The eye etched into the pandora on his face shifted from them to the far wall and back again. Finally, he clenched his tatty robes and nodded. “Okay, this way.”
He led them to the northern-facing side of the room, grumbling about Nine Star under his breath. The mahogany slats covering the walls were unassuming, but Raven did notice now that while tapestries and paintings adorned the other three walls, this wall was empty. Marcus peeled the pandora from his face, revealing an empty eye socket. He placed the card up against the wall. There was a click, and slowly the wall began to slide away, folding into itself.
Replacing the pandora over his face, Marcus joined the students as the wall finished parting, revealing three pedestals glowing beneath concentrated beams of light. On each pedestal was a bell jar of fine glass and within each was a red velvet pillow. On one of the pillows sat a marble statuette of a bizarre foreign lizard with a flicking forked tongue. An insignia of a seven-pointed star had been stamped onto the base with faded letters that read:
D.V.
The second jar held nothing. But it was the third that immediately drew all attention. Raven, Van, and Valentine pointed to it and asked in unison: “What is that?”
On the pillow sat a metallic signet ring. A seal with Valius Shrale’s mark. Raven’s heart wanted to beat out of his chest, and an excited fire roared up within him. It was the right size and everything. Could it be?
Marcus Shrale did not answer their question for a moment, as he regarded them with a curious stare. It slowly turned guarded as he replied. “That is Valius Shrale’s own signet ring. Quite something, isn’t it? Now do you believe me?”
“How much?” Raven asked.
Now Marcus frowned. “These items are not for sale. It’s why they aren’t displayed.”
Raven smirked. “I don’t think you understand. Money is no object. Just tell me how much you want for it.”
Marcus smiled broadly. He folded his arms behind him and slowly walked up to the bell jar. Lifting the glass, he took the ring off the pillow. Then, before anybody could react, Marcus bolted, scurrying to the corner of the room. Raven was so surprised by the action, he couldn’t even react. They watched as he reached a black chest tucked away in the corner and flung it open.
Raven’s heart sank. Oh no! A Facker Chest!
Before he could even attempt to stop him, Marcus threw the ring into the trunk and slammed it shut before whirling on them.
“WHO ARE YOU?” he shouted hysterically. “Why have you come? I demand an answer!”
“We’re students!” Van answered hastily in shock.
“Students who just happen to have the money to purchase priceless artifacts? You LIE!” He stomped toward them. The wall immediately slammed shut, hiding the pedestals again. “You’re here to take my heirlooms! They’re MINE! MINE! I am the true heir!”
“No one said you weren’t,” Valentine replied.
“I want you out of my shop!” he screamed, flailing his arms about. “Now! Now, now, now!”
Valentine grabbed the man’s robes and snapped him down so they were staring at each other. A cruel manner came over her. “I don’t think you know who you’re talking to.”
He squealed in fear, but hysteria overtook him. He lunged away from her, freeing himself from her grip. “OUT, I SAY! OUT!”
He shooed his hands, and they slowly backed up, Raven and Valentine staring daggers at the disheveled man. Eventually, they made their way down the stairs and left the shop, descending the stairs as the door was slammed violently behind them, shattering several windows.
“And don’t ever come back!”
They stared up at the hut in silence. Raven was so furious, he could only manage to mentally hurl the worst obscenities he knew toward it, leaving Rue to cower in distress.
“Let’s just steal it from him,” Valentine said after a long while.
“While I applaud your newfound daring,” Van replied. “That would be impossible. He stashed it in a Facker Chest.”
“What is that?”
“An artifact. And not a terribly uncommon one. Only the owner of a chest can open it. And no manner of force or sorcery could ever pry it open otherwise. A fortress of truly ancient design. I can’t believe this snake has one. I’d never seen one before, but I knew what it was the moment I saw it. And I think Raven did, too.”
Van,” Raven rasped. He turned his head to look at them. His eyes were alight with fury. “I want to know everything about Marcus Shrale… absolutely everything.”