The opening bars of 'The Lion Sleeps Tonight' sounded from four different directions in the large communal bathroom of the manor.
Pale tile covered the floors, walls, and ceiling. Each raised shower stall housed a thick, dark curtain. The toilets and urinals, too, had their own private cubbies. None of them would be able to see each other use any of the facilities. It reminded Zeke of one of the bathrooms in the men's dormitory in college. Though, this bathroom centered on seclusion and privacy more than any standard public washroom. He watched as three of the other men dug around in their pockets and stared at their cell phones quizzically.
As Faolan stepped out of the shower, a towel around his waist, Vladimir snickered, "Kid, you've got some nerve, using that song as Erza's ringtone."
Erza... Visions of raven hair and delicately sharp features flashed through Zeke's mind. Yeah, the woman made a lasting impression. No man alive could state otherwise. He wished he could have caught a glimpse of her eyes, but she'd clung to her sunglasses like armor. He bet her eyes were an electric blue...
"I thought it an appropriate warning for when she summons us. You never know what she'll have us doing," Faolan replied, his tone blasé.
"Well, this time she wishes us to continue without her. She's put Roderick in charge until she states otherwise," Vladimir stated, pulling his underwear and pants on under his towel. Zeke found it odd that the men took care to not reveal their nether regions to each other. Most men their age didn't give a damn about nudity.
Zeke flinched as a dagger of pain sliced across his shoulder blades. He turned to the towel-clad goateed man digging out the shrapnel piercing him.
"I don't mean to complain, but could you please be careful? It feels like you're shoving a hot poker into my spine."
The man raised his hands to his shoulders and shrugged. Zeke hadn't heard the man utter a single word, so he supposed the gesture was his version of an apology.
"Dr. Miller, you said those serpents were sent by your father. Explain," the tall, tattooed bald guy said. Zeke guessed the guy's name was Roderick since he seemed to be in charge.
"My father has an ‘affinity’ for snakes of every kind. He can actually order them to do something, and they'll do it, like soldiers. He brands his favorites, the ones that prove unwavering loyalty to him, with a mark that's been passed down in the family for centuries. The two that attacked Erza bore the mark on their heads," he explained, nodding his thanks to Goatee when the man finished up with his back and stepped around him.
"Can you draw this mark for us?" Roderick asked.
"It's not a complicated design, but I suck at drawing. Here." Zeke turned sideways to the men and lifted his arm. He knew the brand intimately. High on the right side of his ribcage, a snake formed a large 'N' inside a six-inch circle. He'd been eight when his father pressed the red-hot amulet to his skin.
The men exchanged grim looks at the sight of his scar. "What is it? Do you know this symbol?" Zeke asked, lowering his arm to rub his tense neck.
Roderick nodded to the rest of the men, and they each pulled an amulet from beneath their shirts. Faolan grabbed his from the stack of clothes piled on a nearby bench. Zeke recoiled from the six inch disks inscribed with letters as phantom pain lanced through the puckered flesh of his scar.
Roderick's held a 'C' in the shape of a crescent moon with a Wolf howling in the center. Vladimir's 'V' was stylized into the snout of a Fox. The second vertical bar of Faolan's 'H' formed a Horse head at the top, while Goatee's 'A' sprouted wings within the circle.
"And Erza would be the Lion...," he murmured, stunned. "Good God, the old man wasn't crazy. The Warriors do exist!"
Zeke heard a click in his left ear and felt cool metal press against his temple. His peripheral vision revealed Faolan holding a sleek .45 to his head.
"How do you know of us?" Roderick's voice could sink the Titanic; it was so hard and cold. The Warriors stood stiffly, eyeing him warily. The other men's various weapons were mere inches from their itching palms. Thank God he had nothing to hide.
"Whenever John would get drunk, which was often, he would ramble about how the Lion ruled its people with the help of its Warriors: the Wolf, the Eagle, and the Horse. According to him, the Snake wished to join their ranks and serve the Lion, but the Lion and its Warriors ridiculed the snake, calling him weak and worthless. Angered, the Snake did something to strike back at the Warriors; something he thought would destroy them and their families. I always thought it was just the drunken ravings of a violent man," Zeke said.
"What did the Snake do?" Vladimir demanded as the men relaxed. Faolan put his gun down on the bench and continued dressing.
"I don't know," Zeke replied, shrugging. "Every time I asked, he beat the shit out of me or another kid on the dig. I learned quickly not to ask him questions."
"It seems you know more about our history than we do. Let me fill you in on what little we know," Roderick said, leaning against the pale tile wall.
"We are a race called the Qikan. A thousand years ago, a great cataclysm caused every adult of our race to fall over dead in an instant. As far as we've been able to discover, the oldest survivor was ten years old. That boy was Erza's grandfather. He guided the rest of the children as best he could and ruled them for two hundred years. He went mad and killed himself. Erza's father ruled for just under four hundred years before the Madness took him. Erza has ruled for over three hundred years. When the Cataclysm happened, our people were scattered across the earth, so we made it our mission to find them and try to save our race. We only know our history after the Cataclysm, anything before that is guesswork on our part."
"Erza is three hundred years old? How is that possible?" Zeke wanted to be shocked, but his mind wasn't having any trouble with Roderick's story. His father's ravings must have influenced him more than he'd thought.
"Actually, she's four hundred next week, and we have no idea why we live so long. Our best guess is we aren't human. That's why we don't dare go to a hospital for blood tests--in case we aren't human," Vladimir said, slathering his face with shaving cream.
"If you're so old, why haven't one of you become a doctor or scientist and done the blood work yourselves?" Zeke asked; his gaze moving from man to man.
The men shifted and wouldn't meet his eyes. Finally, Vladimir said, "We're warriors, not healers. We wouldn't know where to begin learning a different vocation."
Zeke nodded in understanding. Many ancient tribes around the world had specialized castes for certain roles. It was possible that these men were incapable of learning to heal--not because they were stupid, they were obviously intelligent--but because of the way they were raised in their society.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
"You wanted my help with something. What do you need?" he asked.
"A few days ago, Lucius discovered a man in possession of one of our artifacts. An item no one has seen since before the Cataclysm. We only recognized it because of drawings Erza's grandfather left us."
Roderick dug around in his pile of clothes and withdrew another amulet. Zeke accepted it from him and inspected it in the harsh florescent lighting.
The lines were clean cut and the etchings carved by a master artisan. He gently rubbed his thumb over the roaring Lion and asked, "Where did the man find this?"
"A cave in northern Siberia. We want you to help us find where it came from," Roderick replied.
"Northern Siberia? That's all you have to go on?" At Roderick's nod, Zeke shook his head. "Impossible. Do you know how big Siberia is? And you have no clue as to the exact location! Even Archeologists in the Amazon follow legends of certain areas. You don't even have that!"
"We thought, Mr. Ph.D., that you could figure it out based on the materials the amulet is made from," Faolan snapped as he pulled on a pair of jeans.
"I'm an Archeologist, not a geologist, paleontologist, or metallurgist."
Zeke froze.
Is it even metal?
He moved to the brighter lights above the mirror and studied the dark disk housing the etched metal. "Well, I'll be damned," he breathed, wondering if he could convince her to help them. He'd have to beg, and she was going to be extremely cross with him right from the start...
"What is it? Have you found something?" Vladimir asked eagerly, wiping the last bit of foam from his face.
"Kind of. This dark part here isn't metal or stone; it's crystal. There's only one person in the world who can track by crystal. We're going to need her help, or we'll be looking for a grain of sand in a pyramid," Zeke replied. "I'll warn you, though; it won't be easy to convince her to help. She hates men, and only tolerates me."
Vladimir turned to Roderick, "Our Regina put you in charge. The decision is yours."
Roderick remained silent for several long minutes. Finally, he said, "We will ask for her aid, but are you sure you can get her to help us?"
"Not even a little, but I have a better shot than anyone else in the world," Zeke said, handing the amulet back to the bald warrior.
"And why is that?" Vladimir asked.
"I'm her brother," he replied.
*****
Zeke studied the hall of darkened doors, searching for his room. Crap. Did Faolan say right or left at the sixth corridor? He'd never been good with directions inside modern buildings. Give me an open dig or ancient tomb any day.
"Eenie, meenie, miney, moe..." he muttered, finally turning left. He figured if he got too lost, someone was bound to come looking for him in the morning.
A faint echo reached his ears: a child's singing. Why would a child live with ancient, battle-hardened soldiers? Curiosity, the bane that drove his life, commanded him to follow the sound down the shadowed hall. His footsteps bounced ahead of him, forcing him to stop often to listen for the child. Damn stone floors. What did people have against carpeting? Carpets were warm and muffled sounds throughout the house. What's not to love? He thought.
He stopped before a pair of ornate oak doors. The voice he sought drifted from the other side. He knocked lightly, but the voice continued singing. His cursed curiosity forbade him from leaving. Zeke quietly opened the door and sucked in a shocked breath.
He had entered a little girl's room; full of countless pink and white frills. Stuffed animals stood sentry upon their numerous shelves. Their dead glass eyes missed nothing as they beheld the person sitting at the petite tea table in the center of the room--Erza.
Her left eye blazed a clear electric blue as her cloudy, green right eye wandered sightlessly. She wore a long, girlish nightgown; a pair of leather pants and red halter top thrown haphazardly about the room. The small, child-like voice emanating from her throat raised goose flesh on his arms. When he finally tuned in to the words of her song, it chilled his blood and caused the hair of his nape to stand on end.
"King Rupert did a dirty deed.
He killed his family without need.
His wife he quartered in their bed,
She couldn't scream without a head."
Her voice rose and fell in the song's cadence while she cuddled a grey, tattered teddy bear to her chest and pretended to pour a cup of tea. Zeke must have made a noise, because her head jerked toward him. She stared; her blue eye focused upon his face as she continued her rhyme.
"Then he slit the youngest throat,
And threw her body in the moat.
He peered into his young son's face,
Then smashed it with a heavy mace.
When he tried to stab the oldest girl..."
Her brow furrowed as her rhyme trailed off. She growled low in frustration and tried again, but got no further in her song.
"I don't remember! No, I have to remember, I can't forget, it's not allowed! Daddy, help me remember. Please, Daddy? Daddy? DAddy?! DADDY!" Her high-pitched voice gained in volume until her screams pierced Zeke's ears with their echoes.
Something heavy barged into the room, shoving him aside. Zeke teetered for a moment before falling into an open toy box. He'd thought stepping on Legos was the worst pain imaginable, but nothing compared to landing in a box full of Barbies.
"Shh. Shh. It's all right, Erza. You don't need to cry. What's wrong, child?" Vladimir's warbling voice adopted a crooning quality as he rocked the weeping woman in his arms.
"I don't remember the rest! Daddy, what happens next?" Erza asked on a hiccup. Zeke pried himself out of the toy box as Vladimir sighed.
"You always get stuck on the most important part, Erza. I should probably write it down for you again," Vladimir said. Zeke stood as still as he could, afraid to even breathe. He didn't want to intrude upon the fragile scene in front of him.
"No, the grown-up Erza would just burn it like she did all the others," child-Erza replied, nodding her head sagely against the old man's chest.
"You're right, little one. She's stubborn, but she has her reasons," Vladimir said, stroking the hair from her face.
"And I have mine. I have to remember--everything. Tell me the rest, please?" she begged, cuddling into the butler's lean chest.
"When he tried to stab the oldest girl,
A different plan did then unfurl.
T'was she that had the stealthy knack;
She stabbed her father in the back."
Vladimir's rich baritone crooned the final verse with a haunting tone. Erza sighed, a single tear tracking down her cheek.
"Thank you, Daddy. Good night," she whispered as she scuttled off the old man's lap and burrowed beneath the fluffy pink quilt piled on the bed.
Vladimir tucked the blankets around her small frame and kissed her forehead lovingly. Zeke watched the strange father-daughter scene with both awe and confusion muddling his brain.
Vladimir turned and grabbed his arm, hauling him out of the room. The old man's strength amazed him. A man of Vladimir's age, not to mention his slight, frail build, should not have been able to strong-arm a man so much larger than him out of the room. After the door's soft, closing click, he threw Zeke's arm away from him.
"If you ever utter a word about this to anyone, I will spend days enjoying your screams before I kill you," Vladimir snarled before striding away.
Zeke watched him leave; the ferocity of the threat bathing his body in an unreasonable fear of the tiny butler. He shook the emotion away. He didn't understand what he'd witnessed, and he saw no need for others to know about a scene that Erza would find embarrassing. He studied the corridor, pondering the mystery that was Erza Leonidas, and wondered which way his room lay.