“Where’s Andy?”
If you’re reading this within a day or two of it being published, thank you for keeping up with my stuff! If you’re wondering where I am, currently, I’m probably somewhere in Missouri, or maybe near Tulsa or Albuquerque. Either way, I’m on a road trip down the path of Route 66! So I don’t have access to my normal computational resources, so I’m uploading all this stuff in advance. I don’t think I’ve got anything to really talk about this week, but I have a couple of notes. First, I will be writing a review of Resident Evil: Village at some point. I think. Second, I will also be talking about my trip through the American Southwest, of course. I mean, let’s be honest, we all knew I was gonna talk about it once I mentioned it. And third, there’s a couple more chapters of worth of gay stuff in Spectral Crown, sooner or later. No, I never do write an actual sex scene, which is, perhaps, disappointing to some. It’s a bit disappointing to me, too. Someday I will rectify that mistake. And someday I’ll figure out my own understandings of where I fit into the spectrum of sexuality and what that means for me and my writing. And hopefully I’ll figure out how not to feel like an impostor because I’m pan(?) but pass for straight. But once again, none of those are happening today. Oops.
Anyway, here’s the previous chapter.
Spectral Crown, by Andy Sima: Chapter Twenty-Two
A few days passed after my affair with Iacob, and something within me changed, for I felt more at home in the castle than I had before. I still could not explain the strange goings-on of the place, nor could I rightfully use the lavatory without fear of dismemberment, but I did not see the castle as malignant. No one else, however, shared my feelings.
Simon was steeled in his resolve to prevent any more expeditions, not that anyone was interested in participating, anyway. I seemed to be the only one who was interested in them still, so finding volunteers was a challenge. Especially as our numbers waned fewer day by day.
It did not happen every night, but there would still be mornings where we would awaken to find that we were one or two fewer than we had been upon falling asleep. This did nothing to boost anyone’s morale, mine own included, though I did point out that by not going on expeditions we were sitting ducks. The reaction was null.
Our days were filled with work. And on one occasion, my day was filled with Iacob. But either way, we did not have time to adventure into the walls. We were too preoccupied with serving the Uradel royals, as we were now being called upon nearly daily to assist them. They did not comment on our thinning herds, and we did not comment on the fact that there were new Blestemats at the table with each passing sunrise. Despite my new sense of calm in the castle, we were still doomed to die in this place.
It was the night that Ema disappeared, however, that the levee finally broke, and we once again felt the call to action. Or, rather, Simon did, and he roused himself up enough to call a meeting of our people and Reinhard.
“This cannot continue,” Simon said to our now diminished crew. “We are losing people faster than we can count, and we are not even going behind the walls anymore. If we stay here, we are done for. We have to do something.”
“I say we send more expeditions,” I said, for I was itching to return to that space behind the fireplace.
“Out of the question,” Simon immediately said.
“Out of the frying pan and into the fire,” Franz muttered. He had been even more lugubrious since Kolte was killed. Freda hugged him tightly.
“What is there to do?” Greta said. “Kolte is dead. George is dead. Ema is gone. Anni is gone. Gerard is gone. Derik is gone. Nadine is gone. Silvester is gone. Irma is gone. Who else is gone?” She had listed off some of the names of those who had been taken. Ema’s disappearance had hit me rather close to home.
“I think that is everyone,” someone said.
“It doesn’t matter, really, if it’s everyone or not,” my mother said. “What matters is that it is too many. We must do something. And I think that, lacking other options, Saelac may be right. Perhaps we do have to return to the expeditions.”
“There must be something better. We know for sure that someone will die if we go back in the tunnels. There must be a way of protecting ourselves that does not result in death,” Simon said.
“What about this?” Reinhard said, and spoke up in a way I did not like. He had been crouching at the edge of the group, listening in silence. “What if we lay a trap for whatever is taking your people?”
“So you believe in them now, do ya?” Franz said, eyeing Reinhard.
“How do you propose to do that, Reinhard?” my mother asked.
“Simple, really,” he said. “We have a few of you fall asleep, like normal, and the rest of us stay awake. To watch. And when we see something, we rouse the others and attack.”
“Easy for you to say,” Simon said. “I am an old man. I am unfit for attacking anybody.”
“Then perhaps you would like to be bait?” Reinhard suggested. Simon swallowed.
“No one is going to want to be bait,” I said. “How do we decide who is and who isn’t?”
“We won’t,” my mother said firmly. “That is a ridiculous plan. We will not risk ourselves on an idea that may or may not work.”
“One of you will be taken again, and soon, I would wager,” Reinhard said. “Why not take advantage of that?” To my surprise, there were murmurs of agreement.
“It may work,” Simon relented. “Perhaps Reinhard has a point. We do not even know what we’re up against. This may be a relatively safe way to find out.”
“Yes!” Reinhard exclaimed. “We should begin soon. I volunteer myself to stay awake.”
“Of course you do, you dog,” Franz said. “Save your own hide, why don’t you?”
“What else did you expect?” someone said. Reinhard’s eyes narrowed.
“I developed the idea,” he said. “It seems fair to me.”
“Why do we need bait at all?” Freda asked. “What if everyone simply stays awake?”
“Ah, but see, the castle will know,” Reinhard said, echoing my own thoughts. “Some of us need to be asleep.”
“And won’t the castle know of our plans right now?” Franz said. “Who’s to say they are not listening at this very moment?” I was absolutely certain they were. But the Blestemats needed us and were willing to take that chance. For once, I agreed with Reinhard.
“What if we draw straws?” I suggested. Everyone turned to me. “We take bits of straw from our bedding, or words from a hat, or something similar, and we draw them in silence. We keep our drawing a secret to only ourselves, and that way the castle will not know, and roles will be assigned fairly.”
“It seems like the easiest solution to me,” Greta said. There were murmurs of agreement from the crowd.
“So, it seems we are of one mind, then?” Reinhard asked.
“I cannot condone this plan,” my mother said. “But I will play along.”
“You were about to send some of us into those despicable tunnels, Josefa. You have no right to speak as you do. This plan seems much safer,” Simon said, steadily cleaning his glasses.
“Then let’s get on with it,” Franz said, head in his hands.
“Saelac,” Reinhard addressed me. “Will you procure materials for this picking of yours?”
“Give me one moment,” I said, and went back into the male quarters. I moved to my bed and lifted up the blankets until I found a dry bit of straw, of which there was plenty. I got enough to use for the task and broke them up into pieces of two different sizes. I placed equal numbers of each size in my two hands, one for men and one for women, as we were in two separate rooms. And now, having retrieved the necessary materials, I returned to the common room and stood in the center.
“Draw your straws when you are ready,” I said. “Do not show them to anyone, do not speak of them, keep them as safe as possible. Maybe burn them when you have committed your role to memory. If you draw a longer straw, you will be awake tonight. If you draw a shorter straw, you will be sleeping. Does that make sense?”
There were only silent nods in answer, as everyone was now warily staring at the straw in my hands.
“Take your time,” Simon said. “We have all day.”
“But not all night,” Reinhard snickered.
So, one by one, each remaining servant, sans Reinhard, drew a straw from my hand. I looked away, so I would not know what they drew. My mother and Simon were the last to draw, and finally, I drew my own and let the rest of the fibrous sticks fall the floor.
I had drawn a long straw. As I somehow expected to.
In silence, I nodded to everyone, and stuck my straw into the flames of one of the wall torches. It sizzled away, and no one would ever know but me. Not until tonight, anyway. The rest of those assembled followed suit, and burned their bits of straw, too. Some individuals seemed happier than others, but most were stone-faced and passive.
“It is settled, then,” Simon said. “Tonight, we face our captors.”
It was going to be a long wait, but time passed and that day was spent, anxiety-ridden and painful, serving refreshments to the royals as they played some sort of card game in the meeting room they met in to plan for the wedding. It was uneventful, and as attendant to Maynard, I stood near him and passed him drinks and snacks as needed.
My lunch hour was spent with Iacob that day, on some pretense of continued interrogation. That was more of a front for Reinhard than for the other Blestemats. They knew precisely of the nature of our relationship.
Upon returning from my feast with Iacob, I returned to my dull job of waiting on the prince. My mother served Annalise and Simon served Adalbert while complaining of a headache. Every so often Iacob would say something to me or throw a glance my way and my heart would thump, but other than that, nothing of interest happened. I only saw Laurentiu at a distance and never ventured beyond the subsidiary kitchen.
There was no talk of the plan, and I had no way of telling whether or not Iacob knew of it, as he spoke of nothing to me besides a general state of affairs. The day’s ending was uneventful, too, and for our dinner, we were escorted back to our prison by Iacob’s personal servants, where we found an extravagant meal already waiting for us. So we dug in to the turkeys and pigs that had been carved, the root vegetables that had been dug up and boiled, the strange and exotic fruits and spices that had been imported from faraway lands.
The time spent after our meal was long and empty of cheer or pleasure, even from the finicky Reinhard. I did not fear for my own safety, but I was not looking forward to the plan, either. Though I was more prepared for it, mentally and physically, than nearly anyone else. All I hoped was that the lures would be able to sleep.
“I believe I will turn in for the evening,” Franz said. Franz was the first of the night, and Freda followed.
“Ay, me too, brother,” she said. They bid us goodnight and made their ways to their separate rooms. It wasn’t long after that before everyone else began to drift away to their parts of the sleeping quarters, too. I left the common room, saying goodnight only to my mother and Simon. I prepared for the long night ahead.
Having been set to be a watcher, I had nothing but hours of staying awake ahead of me. There was nothing I could do but watch and wait for something to happen. I feared that they might not show up tonight or that I would fall asleep and miss it, but dwelling on those thoughts did nothing but pass the time. And so I waited in that inky, windowless dark for something to happen.
Hours passed. Everyone else seemed to be asleep. I could not tell from my vantage point who was awake and who was not, but that was for the better. I had slept facing away from Kolte’s bed since the second expedition. And by facing away from Kolte’s empty nest, I faced instead directly towards Franz, who tossed and turned unevenly.
After some ages, I heard the soft flapping of wings. My ears perked up and I became aware of everything in that room. The breathing of my fellow servants conspired with each other to drown out the sound of those wings, but I heard them. They came from above, and I dared not turn to find their source, though I knew exactly what they were coming from.
I laid still, watching Franz roll about, and out of the corner of my eye, barely visible in the silent darkness, I saw the raven that watched us every night touch to the ground at the foot of Franz’s bed. It hopped around on the stone and stood around, black eyes keenly aware of the fire-headed figure before it, and keenly aware that such a figure was a sleeping.
There was a spinning of shadows, and momentarily the raven seemed to suck in all the darkness from the rest of the room. It was like a whirlpool of obscurities, consuming all the traces of dark that crouched about our room. And then, just as quickly as the bizarre illusion began, it was over, and where the raven had once stood was now Prince Iacob, in his full attire and pale skin.
My breath caught in my throat, for I knew something was about to happen. Iacob stood over Franz, leaning from the foot of his bed, and very gently placed a finger on his forehead while muttering some silent incantations. Franz went still and did not struggle any longer. Iacob removed his thin finger from the large man and straightened himself back up at the foot of the bed. And for a few moments, he simply stared.
I was selfishly aware of the relief I felt in that moment, knowing that it was Iacob who chose who to take. It meant that I would be saved for last, if taken at all, for Iacob did not want to waste me. I had made certain of that, in one way or another.
While Iacob watched Franz, he reached out into the air behind him and opened something. Which was impossible, as there was nothing behind him to open. And yet, he grasped something and pulled it open, with utter silence, and there was a doorway in the middle of the room. It was darker than night, blacker even than Iacob’s hair. I could see nothing within it, but from it stepped two of the Blestemat guards.
The snake-man crossbreeds were dressed in their pointy suits of armor. They stepped to either side of the door, lemon eyes and scaled skin twitching in the darkness. Their tongues flicked in and out, venomous as their smiles. Iacob gestured to Franz at his feet.
The two guards moved to either side of Franz, and as if they were lifting a newborn, grabbed him by the arms and legs and hauled him off the bed. There was not a sound, not a shifting of straw or muttering from Franz, and the barrel-chested man was completely still for the entirety of the event. I thought that maybe no one else had seen it until the snake-men were nearly at the door, when someone jumped at them.
The action of jumping broke the terrible silence like a pane of glass, and Iacob was suddenly gone in a dispelling of shadows, leaving only a feather behind. And as he disappeared, sound returned to the room, and I realized the attacking man was screaming. He lunged at Franz, knocking him out of the arms of the guards, and toppled to the floor on top of him. The snake men were stunned, and for a moment did not know how to react. They simply stared at each other.
That moment ended up being their downfall, as it allowed everyone else in the room to wake up and get their bearings. Soon enough, I, too, was on my feet, and yanked the first attacker off the body of Franz. Franz, somehow not dead, opened his eyes and managed to make some sense of the confusion, for he leaped up and gave a great shove at one of the bewildered guards. I dared to hope for just a moment that we might make it out of this one in piece, but I should have known better.
The mob of men, now cacophonously yelling and wailing as they hurtled towards the Blestemat guards, misjudged their foes’ temporary lapse in judgement as a sign of ineptitude, and began leaping at them from all sides with no apparent plan. As soon as the guards regained their momentum, they threw us Uradel servants about like children’s toys. They hissed and lashed out with their spiked arms, nicking me in the shoulder and barely missing my head as I threw a punch at one of them. I should have been more careful, as one of the guards drew forth a massive spear and nearly impaled me.
I do not know where the weapon came from. Perhaps it was drawn from the door behind the guards, or perhaps they had carried them all along. It was long and dark, and tipped with a hooked spike that reminded me of an elaborate fleur-de-lis. The guard who had drawn the weapon swung about, knocking men off their feet and away from him and his partner. And then he charged forward, just a step, and lanced someone onto that vicious pole. The blooming flower of metal went right through their stomach in one motion, and the hooks at the back of it caught the man with ease. He was utterly trapped on the end of the pole.
The smell of blood mixed in the air with that horrid blend of hissing and war cries. These calls heightened as the guards began to retreat, the unarmed one first through the door, and then the one who had made a kabob of a servant. Hissing, the white snake pulled his sorry victim with him, and our cries turned to outrage and fear as the shadow door shut behind them, cutting off any opportunity of tailing the escaping beasts.
Once the chaos of the fight began to settle down, someone had the good idea to light the torches on the walls and shed some illumination on the scene before us.
“Good god,” Simon said. “I didn’t realize they got one of us.”
“Why else do you think they would have left?” Reinhard said. “Of course they got one of us.”
“But which one?” Franz said.
“Not sure,” someone else said. “I couldn’t see them.”
Everyone else seemed to agree that we could not tell who was missing in action, though we would surely figure it out later. All that we knew was that blood had splattered the floor and ran in little rivulets in the stones beneath our feet, pooling and congealing.
“Did you see those things?” someone finally said. “They weren’t even human!”
“No,” someone else agreed. “They were not.”
There was a moment of terrified silence before Simon finally gave voice to what we had all been thinking.
“Oh, heaven above,” the bespectacled man said. He took a heavy seat on Franz’s bed as he realized that we had incurred the wrath of these guards. “What have we done?”
Now we’re finally getting to the good stuff. Though I personally hope that the whole thing is “the good stuff,” I definitely feel like the latter half of the book is the stronger part. Let me know what you think! Thanks for reading!
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