Chapter 65. The Ink of Envy.

  I’m sorry but before we go any further with the story I need to take it back to the castle again.

  Actually no, not sorry, I’m going to be switching perspective a bunch so just get used to it. I know, I know but what about Abram? Who was the Crusader? Where is Arieo and Sid and Fenrir? I’ll get to it don’t worry. Important things are happening at the sanctuary. More interesting in my opinion…. Then again, I don’t think the mountains are real so what’s my opinion worth. But it’s all part of Sid’s legend so just listen closely.

  Back at the castle, folks gathered around the pond, as some helped Scarlett from the shallow waters.

  “Get off me!” She snapped at a young girl, pushing the child down.

  The child only looked at her mother with a face of disfigured confusion. Because it was her mother who had told her to help Scarlett from the water.

  “Scarlett? What’s going on?” A man asked.

  “Scarlett? Who was that man?” Asked another.

  Common folk and basic traders questioned the old seamstress. All while she pushed her way through the crowd. She mumbled a few words of her own. Although her sentences were filled with stress and worry and she panicked her way for the castle doors.

  In the struggle through questions a rather annoying squeak grabbed her attention. A man in royal blue leading a wagon pulled by a donkey—a one eared donkey. She held eyes with the man. He couldn’t have been older then forty cycles of the seasons. His eyes and face though. They belonged to an old soul. Something about this man was vaguely familiar. Those eyes. Scarlett had most definitely seen those eyes before—the color of one’s eyes doesn’t swirl like that, or any eye for that matter.

  She never said anything. Neither did the man. Only was the passing of inspection between them both. His coat was filthy. She could fix that. Same with the blushing ruffles around his neck. She could have them bright and white again. Not right now. More important things are to be done first. She could only wonder how the spell actually worked and how many relics she may have awoken—she knew of at least one. One right here at the castle, one in the wrong hands.

  Making her way inside Scarlett grabbed at the sides of her dress. Rushing up those corkscrewing stairs that churn up and down the wall. Her breath was heavier than the last with each step she climbed. Completely winded for air she approached the third level. Walking quickly trying for her breath before she hurried around a corner.

  Wood heels on her leather sandals, clicked and clacked as she ran down the Hall-of-Heroics.

  Pictures had become insulted. She was paying no attention to their honorable moments. In such disrespect the stained glass exploded behind her. Shards of wonderful color burst and blast into the hallway just behind her steps, before magically piecing back together—maybe the next passerby will adore their noble actions, seriously how rude.

  Running into her shop, Scarlett ran straight flat faced into Monte’s chest plate, knocking herself backwards.

  “You okay Scarlet? You’re as white as the ghosthound.” He said helping her to her feet. “Say can you do anything for my shoulder, I think that Sid fella dislocated something back there.” He rubbed his shoulder, with a slight wince.

  “Monte run, get away from the castle.” It was a suggestion hidden in a heavy breath.

  She hurried to a large suing bag, and began filling it with spools, silks, and threads. Only the essentials. Things she could start over with. She grabbed the heavy knitted cloak with sleeves and wrapped herself.

  “What’s the matter Scarlett?” Monte asked, watching the frantic woman.

  “He is the king… and now…” Scarlett’s voice came to a shaky stop, seeing how Lief had entered the room.

  “Scarlett, good you’re still here.” Lief said closing the door behind him.

  She looked as if a vampire had sucked her dry, skin now cold and white. It aged her more than necessary.

  Monte turned around. “Blow off Lief, can’t you see the woman is worked up about something.”

  “Monte run.” Scarlett warned him under her breath before snapping her bag shut.

  “Actually Monte, you should stick around, and make sure everything is all right.” Lief snickered lowly. Sliding the wood plank, barring the door shut.

  He reached for his notebook. Then pulled a ghostly looking quill from inside his vest.

  The feather was a smoky spectral teal, growing deeper in color around the root. He flipped a few pages finding a pretty clean one he liked. Licked the tip of the quill. Such a lick it was too, because the boys eyes went glossy black like ink. Then he began writing. Feather glowing with each pull of a letter.

  “Lief you can’t do anything here, this place is sanctuary.” Scarlett said with a rash voice.

  That phantom feather danced in Lief’s hand. The tip scratched so smoothly. He looked at Monte. Monte only went narrow eyed looking at the boy. One of them black eyes spilled over. Thick ink trailed down his cheek.

  Lief smiled. It was such a chilling grimace too. Even with all this warm lamp light flickering over. He smeared his cheek and continued.

  Monte looked down at Scarlet with a twisted face. “He has no power, Scarlett. Boy thinks he’s going to write the laws, but look at the little shit, he couldn’t enfor—” Monte never finished.

  Something was happening. A pressure that wasn’t aura. What was this? He couldn’t fight it. Ouch. Oh gods he can’t bend like this.

  That invisible force snapped Monte in half—backwards—bones crunched all while he contorted into a messy rolled up ball.

  “Help me.” He choked in a wet gurgle.

  There was a horrid break in time that couldn’t pass quick enough. Scarlett and Lief listened. She hated the sound. Those moist agonizing breaths. The muffled pops of things trying to settle and find place. Then was the long final wheeze. The silence in room became deafening.

  “Never liked that prick.” Lief murdered such silence with ease.

  Walking towards the ball of Monte he kicked him under a table, before leering at Scarlett. Wiping his cheek again.

  “I know you know what this means Scarlett. Or shall I explain it to you.” He asked while turning the page in his notebook.

  She could just barely make out the writing over the parchment.

  I LIEF SUVALITOL, DECLARE THAT MONTE DAHLTELLO, FOLD LIKE AN ENVOLOPE, NOW CRUMPLE HIM UP LIKE A BAD IDEA. TWIST HIS ANKLES, AND A BOW TIE WITH HIS WRISTS. NOW HIS BRAIN LIKE MELTED WAX.

  “How is the quill awake?” She asked trying to bide her time, delving a plan for escape.

  “Scarlett, have you forgotten the legacy of the Seven’s Relics.” His smile was a heavy toothed one, and his eyes were deep. Hollowed with a glassy black stare—the boy was clearly not himself right now.

  Closing his notebook, tucking his quill away, he pulled a chair from a table.

  “Sit.”

  Scarlett sat down. Watching while Lief walked to the spinning wheel across the room. He reached for another chair.

  Keeping a close eye on him. She pulled a long crochet needle from her bag. Keeping it hidden in her sleeve. She already knew the Legacy of the Seven’s Relics’. She knew that if she used the Reaper of Galaxies spell it would either mean: 1. Her and her entire bloodline would be erased from history. Or: 2. The Seven had agreed into allowing ‘the game’ to continue, only if the items banned millennia’s ago, be awoken.

  Lief, dragged the chair across the room causing an awful honk. He then lifted it and slammed it down. Really going for that Intimidation star—it was dully noted.

  Lief took his seat, and began to speak. “As you know Scarlett, this place is no longer a Sanctuary, thanks to you, …and Briareos’s spell.”

  He smiled, crossing his legs attempting to find a more comfortable position. “After you released that enchantment. Don’t even deny it either. I know the legends. I’ve read the books. I knew the force was released. The quill had awoken in my vest, I have the burn on my chest to prove it. Seared my fingers prying it free.” The boy unbuttoned the top of his linen.

  His fingers didn’t look to sore for being seared. He pulled a flap of his shirt. Revealing an angry red blister. It had already popped. The skin was slick and irritated. One ripped corner looked to be sealing.

  To Scarlett the skin almost seemed to be ….regrowing. Where had she seen that before?

  Give the old woman a break sometimes it’s hard to think when there’s a menace fueled by vengeance sitting in your room. We’ve seen this before. We know who.

  Lief quickly covered the wound. Wiped his cheek. Then reached into his vest and removed that quill—the ghostly looking one. He twisted it around, brushing the feather between his finger and thumb.

  “I knew what this was when I found it. So did you, the day you seen me with it. That day in the courtyard do you remember?” He asked staring at the quill. Then at her.

  “That day in the yards. You saw me writing off citations. From that day on I would constantly spot you following me. You would harass me for days on end. Through the seasons even.”

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  He stood circling her and the chair.

  “Did you seriously think I would never notice. That I couldn’t see you hiding behind the tree pots and hedges. Only trying for my sleeping relic. My quill.” He sat down again with a calming breath and wrote a little note. The feather glowed with each dancing twirl of a letter.

  Scarlett swallowed listening to the scratch of the tip. Waiting for bones to break. The twists. The pops. Whatever wicked and dark thing Lief was thinking in the moment. Nothing was happening though. The quills song was a haunting one and she could only listen and wait.

  “You don’t think I didn’t know what you were up to? You. A simple pawn of Briareos. I am smarter than that. I’m smarter than you.” He closed his book and slowly looked up. “So much smarter than you. You’re nothing but a greedy old bitch, barely getting by under the eyes of Briareos. My quill could change all that. I knew you always wanted this.” He said to the quill.

  “Always trying to trick me into trading it to you. You wanted it for yourself, knowing just what it was. You wanted the power for greed. You and that insolent swine of a god you play for.” He laughed to himself for a moment before continuing.

  “Oh how he would bombard me with promises too. You’re not that special Scarlett. Yes, Briareos would spoil my dreams. Annoying really. The thing about playing for greed, much like any of the Seven really, is you become dull, and stupid. Losing sight of what it truly is what you want. But I play for none. I am not tempted by the Siblings. I hold one of the relics. I can be a god if I wanted too… That reminds me.”

  He stopped playing with the quill and looked at Scarlett. “What did you enchant.”

  “A blade.” She answered

  Lief uncrossed his legs, and leaned over in his seat. Studying the folded lump of Monte under the table.

  “His?”

  “No, I enchanted the blade of the King.”

  Lief looked at Scarlett. Searching for more of an answer. He was a smart kid. The pieces were all there that day. He just had to place them in the correct pattern.

  “That big fellow…. Sid. The blacksmith. It was him, wasn’t it?” He asked, looking at the axe on a table. It was the same one Sid carried earlier.

  “I knew something was off about that man.” He brushed the feather over his cheek while he thought aloud. It absorbed the dark streaks that overflowed.

  “How do you know how to use that?” Scarlett pointed to the quill. Nearly revealing the crochet needle.

  She wanted to lunge for him, but the hook of the needle caught the inside of her sleeve—oh why did she have to put this baggy thing on first. Instead she quickly thought of such question, trying to free it. “I mean, you’re just a child after all. Children don’t play the game, ….how old are you Lief?”

  Lief smiled at the question. Marveling at the quill between finger. “The Phantom Quill of Envy, it’s really easy. I just write what I desire, and poof… It’s godly voodoo.” Oh how eerie his grimace was.

  “And I’ll be completing my fourteenth cycle in two seasons.” Its funny how kids always tried to advance their age.

  Fourteenth cycle wasn’t old enough to play. But it was old enough to pledge allegiance to legion of faith. Old enough to begin putting oneself together for adventurers to come. Old enough to count their stars.

  His dull expression fell over the quill again. Black eyes ran up and down the deep teal center, before he spoke more. “However, there are particular requirements. Do you know what a naga is Scarlett? …More specifically do you know what The Mystic is?” It was a rhetorical question. Of course she does and of course she knew—The Mystic is just something one really shouldn’t be listening to was all—the Seven are tricky with manipulation like that.

  “The naga said she was The Mystic of the Seven. She also said that you had used the spell under the eyes of Briareos. Saying that the Seven would rather try their luck with the Reaper of Galaxies in play.” He paused. “Well, kind of. The siblings agreed only so long as they could have some tools of their own. The Mystic visited me, Scarlett. She came to me.” He smiled. Lief loved that feeling of need and importance.

  “You know what she told me. She told me that I would only be keeping the game fair. Like a judge. The highest form of judicial government, isn’t that peculiar.”

  “Lief, law is ancient myth. You can’t fantasize over those stories its unhealth—”

  “She came to me Scarlett! The gods look to me for assistance!” He snapped. “She told me! She says certain moves must be made. Certain rules must be put into place. If any of these relics, including my quill. If any were to be used, …order must be written to keep balance.”

  “Yes, well the gods are tricky like that. I’d assume they know what they are doing then, wouldn’t you?” Scarlett asked, pulling on the needle finally freeing it from her sleeve.

  “I suppose they do. However, ….I’m still going to have to write you up.”

  Leaning forward to grab the notebook from his back pocket again—truly, I think this hand reaching around the hip motion was an intimidation move, and he was really working it for that star.

  Only a reaching arm away. She could see her reflection in those black glassy eyes—he was most definitely not all there right now.

  She dropped her arm allowing the crochet needle to fall loosely from her sleeve. Just barely clutching it while it slide down to her finger tips. Fingers gripped obsessively twisting the hooked barb. Perfectly hidden behind finger.

  This was it. Now or never. Scarlett reached out in a single and quick motion. Slamming that hooked needle into the boy’s face. She was aiming for his neck, but he was starting to sit back into the chair opening his book.

  In such a motion his face got in the way—his cheeks more specifically. That thin piece of barbed iron tore through with ease. A faint trail of smoke or steam hissed upon entrance. That same hiss happened with the puncture through the opposite cheek.

  Scarlett watched for half a heartbeat. She couldn’t hear his sour words of anguish. Couldn’t hear his teeth catching the iron between each slurred word. She only seen the hiss of smoke lightly seeping from his cheeks. Only noticing how the skin sealed when he started to pull it free. In a blink she pushed him over. Chair and all. A good solid shove knocking him backwards.

  Kicking his notebook. Then him, bending the crochet needle—half of such still in face.

  Reached for her bag and ran for the door. Listening to the child behind her. ‘Don’t look back at him, keep running. That is not Lief.’ Her mind pulsed as she swung the wood barrier over. Ripping the door open. ‘keep going. Run. Get away. Follow the western path.’ Her mind was now racing as fast as she was. Wooden heels clacking madly echoing her screams.

  “FIRE, FIRE, FIRE!”

  Scarlett yelled cleverly. Many, many settlers from all races and classes entered the long corridor. Among the gathering was Lief, wiping blood away from an unharmed cheek.

  “What’s all the commotion Lief, I see no fire, I smell no smoke.” A very chubby man asked.

  This old fellow had a dusty orange beard. A great beard. One so long it nearly touched the ground—although he was a dwarf so I guess many of their beards almost touched the ground.

  He had that same dusty orange hair up top too—kind of. It was barely reaching his shoulders but the top of his head—the doming area from the ear line up—it was really smooth and reflective perhaps he oiled.

  “I’m not entirely sure Beck.” Lief lied looking down at the dwarf named Beck.

  He wore a brilliant sky-blue armor chest plate. It had been engraved with a magnificent evil looking gnome. Nubby horns sprouting from its head. It glared with bright sapphire eyes.

  His shin guards matched the blue armor but looked to be enchanted. They looked like they flowed with the power of a waterfall—no they weren’t wet, but they did look as if water was falling within them.

  His boots were very fine boots—actually they were practically one in the same to a certain pair we’re familiar with. Yes, Beck had a pair of boots like Abrams. No it’s not that strange. Look around I’m sure there are plenty of you who have the same style of boot or whatever.

  “Hmph, well that woman is crazy Leif. I hear the nonsense that goes on in that room.” Beck said, adjusting the mighty hammer on his back.

  Well actually I don’t known if hammer is even justified for this thing but I don’t know another word. That ‘hammer’ looked like it was mountain side tenderizer. The head was as wide as his shoulders. One side riddled with short spikes. The opposite side an intimidating lifted checkered pattern. That iron blocky head was most definitely heavier than Lief was. The handle was short, just long enough for the dwarf to hold it with proper stance.

  Beck dragged a thick finger under his mushroom nose. Pulling snot across his fuzzy mustache. Lifted his eyebrows of the same scraggly orange fuzz. In such a motion he revealed some eyes. Little green glassy eyes that looked up at Lief. Beck snorted the slick path dripping into his mustache. Then waved Lief down to his level. Speaking only when he could see the inside of the boy’s ear.

  “Hmph, …she had a shifter in there earlier.”

  Lief pulled away with a put-on look of surprise, and Beck looked around cautiously. Hoping the walls couldn’t hear him. He then nodded slowly looking back up to the boy with concern—now Beck didn’t necessarily care about shifters or hybrid creatures, dwarves were looked at differently too. He did feel it valid to tell Lief though—its just who Beck was.

  “Hmph, I don’t know what she’s up to Lief, but I figured to let you know when I see you.”

  “That’s good Beck, thank you, this will be noted.” Lief smiled, patting his chest indicating the star patched to his vest or the quill—honestly who knows what his motives are right now.

  Beck smiled a proud unaware smile. The do-good warmth radiating over the short man.

  “Beck, I hope I don’t offend you, but who do you follow again?” Lief knew.

  “I play for the honorable Cairo.” He said puffing his chest up, slapping his fist against his intimidating armors twice.

  “Yes you seem prideful.” He observed the dwarf, who gave a stern head nod.

  “Has Cairo been good to you, has he blessed you with many riches.”

  “Oh well, I, ….I’ve never really thought to ask him, he’s a god. Hmph, ..I’m sure he’s busy doing god things. I wouldn’t want, …no, I don’t want to bother him. We all have our problems I don’t want to be a burden.” Beck stammered snorting that leaky nose dragging his finger underneath before wiping it across the back of his leg.

  “You are a follower of Pride if I have ever met one Beck.” Lief said, pinching a lovely glob from Beck’s oversized, over-leaky nose, gelling it within his orange beard.

  “In fact, I Envy it. Beck, could I ask a favor of you. Since I’m only a child of thirteen cycles how would you like to do a quest for me.”

  Beck thought for a moment, pulling his beard. Lathering that styling snot. Twisting and working it into the course hairs. Really putting thought into the request. Really putting a curl in his beard. Beck hadn’t been on a quest for a long while. He enjoyed the rush of adventure, and he hadn’t smashed anything with his hammer in sometime either. Honestly the last time he was in the mountains was the day he met Leif.

  The dwarf had remarkable stars and a beautiful skill tree to match. A character sheet that was sadly overlooked purely because of size. Simple minds think bigger is best—silly I know. Because everybody knows that reverent precision is the key. Beck may be small, but the dude was unforgiving when he put his mind to it. Fat pulsing stars in Determination.

  Beck wanted to be a Crusader himself. He just hadn’t collected the proper set of stones—not that he didn’t have stones. He just used them for different upgrades. He wanted to be properly equipped for when he was called upon by Cairo. Perhaps he will be rewarded with some. Maybe he’ll find some on his journey—Its very possible, miraculous things happen every day, we just need to watch for them.

  What? Speak up I cant hear you back there. The stones? They are technically known as Primary Minerals of the Seven. Just relax though, we’re not talking about that right now, …its like you’ve never heard a good story before.

  “Hmph, …okay you talked me into it Lief.” Beck said fingers curled in beard hair.

  Lief knew the prideful ones were easy to convince, they loved the honor and attention.

  “Really! You will!” Lief jumped and kneeled down to hug the dwarf. “Beck you are a good man, I don’t care what anyone says behind your back.”

  Lief snuck the comment in there. Gently placing it right between the hug—nicely placed kiddo I seen every word hit him, …twice.

  A snide comment that attached to Beck like a parasite. Who was talking behind his back? What were they saying? The nasty worm burrowed deeper with each blurry face of who?

  He always tried to do right by anyone he crossed, Beck was a helper not a fighter—not that he wouldn’t kick your ass, but he was a good guy.

  Beck nodded with a ‘no-problem’ expression, but the remark fluttered in his head.

  “Hmph well what would you have me do Lief.” Beck asked. Curiously looking into those dark eyes—boy didn’t look right, maybe he was sick.

  Lief may have been a hand or two taller, but Beck was heavier. Far heavier no debate about that.

  Lief was a scrawny boy—he looked breakable. Fragile, like he was someone who had to be extra careful when outside—I got to give the boy some credit though, he was more durable than he looked, kind of like glass.

  I know. I hear you all again. ‘duh glass ain’t dat durable’ well listen to me. If you can cast glass into cool water. Keeping the shape of a pretty teardrop or tadpole, the head is extremely durable. So strong in fact believe it or not Beck wouldn’t even be able to break said glass with his hammer. It’s a paradox—I could tell you exactly why such things happen but it’s boring.

  No the glass wasn’t indestructible. If the curved tail was broken, so would the glass head.

  Lief was that strong glass, …metaphorically speaking. Internally breaking. Season upon seasons. Cycles over cycles. Understanding only that of mistreatment. It will do that to children. Break them—so smile at the kids when you pass by, it just may be the best part of their day.

  Lief smiled down on the dwarf with a wide unsettling grin and ink black eyes.