RINVAL
A dull thud pulled me from my slumber. Plush, warm bedding wrapped my aching joints as my eyes opened to the comforting dark of my chamber. I'd slept so much better since moving to the dark-ward side of the keep. No more glowing Tower in my window, thank you.
Another thud broke through the hum of the quiet world I lived in. Huh, something was definitely going on outside. I reached to my bedside, grasping for the mask and knocking the glass of water upon it off onto the floor. I assumed it had shattered but had no sensory way of confirming, short of sacrificing the sole of my foot to check. No, I’d just put on my slippers and get someone to clean the mess.
There it was, cool porcelain under my fingertips. I snaked my fingers through the eye holes and brought it to my face, holding it in place with one hand and tying its purple silk ribbons around the back of my head with the other.
I rolled my feet out of bed and kicked on the suede slippers by its side. The creaking of my joints rattled the space between my ears as I took my feet, my nightshirt dropping to my ankles. On the way to the door, I slung the leather strap of my ear-horn over my shoulder and grabbed my polearm from its rack.
As I stepped into the hall, I began to wonder why the boys hadn’t woken me. Standard procedure was to bring any sort of assault or prison break to my attention. Maybe they’d thought to handle it before I woke, to pretend it’d never happened. Heh, I wasn’t sure whether to applaud the initiative or to rage over the lack of compliance.
Then I saw it, the outside of my door, chipped wood, gashes in the paint, and stress marks around the knob; they had tried to wake me. Recalling a moment prior, I had unlocked the door. Why had I locked it in the first place? And then my hard-of-hearing old ass had abandoned duty to slumber in a soundless void.
“Glimmin, Ashworth! Report!” I shouted for two of the guards I knew were on duty. Where in the blazes were those jackalopes? I kept the ear-horn to my ear and pointed it down the hall, one direction, then the other. Another thud, it was sharper this time with the horn, a gun-shot. And shouting, it sounded like a woman.
Was that Ablee? My star pupil, well, she was, until she earned her spot on Karich’s shit list. Why couldn't she have just fallen in line like her step-brothers? Would have made things so much easier.
She had been such a pleasure to teach, full of spirit, and she caught onto things fast. Despite her short attention span she somehow made an excellent painter as well.
I was still proud that her father, the battle-axe, had let me sway his hand, giving the Painter’s Ambrosia to the girl. It was such a natural fit, or so I'd thought. The power had gone to her and Cline's heads. They thought they’d be able to run away, avoid duty. That'd gotten them as far as the Keep's dungeon. What a waste. Karich could have found a way to bring her in line. He had tried a few times but had never listened to my advice on seeking a better approach, thinking his brutality would eventually prevail. A shameful waste.
It’d been years since I’d laid eyes on the girl, my ward. I didn’t want to see the precocious twerp caged up like a dull-eyed zoo animal. Leave that to Glimmin, but he wasn’t responding to my calls. Driving past my hesitation, I plodded down the dungeon stairs.
Turning the corner, I saw Glimmin’s empty seat. The boy was likely upstairs, dealing with whatever nonsense was taking place.
The crew and "Karich" would likely have little trouble with whatever sort of intrusion had arrived. My time would be best spent checking on the girl. Another thud bounced off my deadened eardrum. This one sounded closer.
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
I approached her door, pulling the horn to my ear, and heard wild, pained shouting coming from within, and, was that a man’s voice? I slammed open the cell shutters, "Demon-child, you in there? What're you wailing about?"
"Ahhhh fuck! My damn hand, Gah, what the hell was I thinking? Wait, Rinval, what the hell are you doing here?!" The girl, no, she was a woman now, stood hunched over, glowering at her mangled palm. Wait a second; her chains, they were hanging limp from her wrists, coated in blood, separated just a few links down. That hand was soot-black and crimson. What the hell had happened, and what was that behind her, a billowing curtain, the warband’s purple? Who the hell had installed a doorway? I blinked, incredulous.
"This is a dream, right? You're not in harm’s way," I asked.
"Why the fuck would you care?" She shouted and flipped me a right-handed bird. "Fucking hell!" She screamed and dropped to a squat, dipping her left hand into the ground and pulling it out dripping in gray stone paint. She was huffing air, looking like an incensed purple-pelted tiger with that white streaked blanket across her shoulders. Another piece of contraband Glimmin would pay for.
This was not the cage-humbled beast I’d imagined, she still had her fire. Hah! Poor girl! "Okay, say I am awake; what happened to you, who the hell installed a curtain in your chamber, why are your chains broken, and why are you injured?"
"I'm not telling you beans, you deaf old tutor, it's been five damn years without a peep from you, and now you show up? Really? This is fucking nonsense!"
"Hey! That's no way to speak to your elders… I've been busy. Many appointments. You wouldn't understand my schedule, you layabout." My chest began to bound; I’d missed this verbal repartee. The other children were so serious. They’d be sullen for days after such a retort, but Ablee would return fire.
"Layabout!?! You think I want to be in here? And I am not LAYING ABOUT! I've been busting my ass trying to figure out these powers you forced on me! And guess what! I've done it! These chains are broken and I'm leaving!" She clutched that craggy, broken stone hand to her chest.
"Yeah, that's not going to happen, so what'd you do? Paint a gun and shoot your chains off? You little moron, you could have shot them on the floor."
A figure approached from the other side of that obnoxious billowing curtain, "Watch it, ye’ porcelain-faced ponce, watch yer damn tongue when you speak to the young lady!"
Who the hell was that? A pirate, an actual pirate in some doorway that'd appeared in the young mistresses chambers? How? Why?
"Come here and say that to me yourself, whoever the hell you are!" Wait, I actually knew who this was; his pointy stiletto-length goatee was a dead giveaway. It was Pinbeard? What? How? He was supposed to be long dead, a historical figure. But he wasn't; the man stood there in the flesh, wait, not flesh... paint? This was some trick of the girls!
"Ablee, how did you do this!? Queen of Cups, I wish your father was here to see!"
"Go fetch him then, I'm going to beat his ass!"
"I will do no such thing, young lady, for....numerous reasons. Now, best you surrender; we'll rechain you and.... wash the walls."
"Forget that! No... This ends here!" She rushed the door. She rushed the door! By the time my half-drowsy mind realized what was happening, she was already face-deep in it, her wood-paint-coated livid visage poking out inches in front of me. She tried to bite me, pushing forward further. I retreated a step, then another. Ablee’s back and legs popped through the surface, but her arms were caught behind her. It was both a frightening and funny sight.
I put things together quickly. Her arms, still bound by those iron shackles she couldn't slip, were caught on the other side of the door. "Ha...Haha! Girl, you didn't break the shackles, just the chains..."
"Shut it, you ass!:" She shouted at me, "When I get out of here, you're in trouble, you and Dad, and Glimmin, and those three other sorry sacks of shit that somehow qualify as my "brothers". You'll all pay!"
A smirk lit my cracked lips to match the one she’d painted across my mask. "I don't think so, not unless you can find a key to that door.” She strained, thrashing, trying to get ahold of me. I raised a finger and booped her on the nose; she snapped her wooden teeth at me and roared.
I turned, heading for the stairs. “Well, glad to see you're doing fine, demon child. I have other matters to attend to now; maybe I’ll drop by in another five years…"