Spectral Crown: Chapter Twenty-Seven

“Nintendo never knew what hit ’em.”

Although I am back from Seattle and the west coast, I am still not actually settled in one place.  Because now I’m actually in Minneapolis!  Probably!  I don’t know where I’ll be on this day specifically (or any day, ever, for that matter), but I think I’ll be either finishing up packing my stuff down in Champaign, and leaving the University of Illinois for the last time, or I’ll already be in Minneapolis while I chuck boxes into an apartment building that is definitely not going to smell.  Please, please don’t let it be stinky.  I might actually combust if my new apartment hallways smell like sewer rats.  Also, it’s really surreal to me that the next time I’m in Champaign-Urbana, it might very well be five years later so I can see a football game with my friends.  I could have a child by then.  Can you imagine it?  A tiny version of me?  Terrifying.  Absolute insanity, to borrow a phrase.  I am deeply afraid of children younger than four.  With my luck, the thing’ll just want to scream the whole time.  Which would absolutely be on par for me.

In other news, if you’re reading this, my covert operation at the Nintendo of America headquarters was successful.  I reinstated Reggie Fils-Aime as dictator for life and built an underground tunnel system connecting the Nintendo building to the conveniently-located Valve headquarters nearby.  This will facilitate both a physical and metaphorical console-to-PC pipeline, and it will be legal, for the first time in gaming history, to play Super Mario 64 on your personal computer.  Shigeru Miyamoto, somewhere in Japan, will shiver, uncontrollably and for no discernible reason.  Also, I snuck into Doug Bowser’s office, stole all his hidden copies of unreleased episodes of the Super Mario Bros. Super Show that he uses to line the walls of his secret shrine to Lou Albano, and sent a mass email directing all work to shift immediately to development of Pikmin 4, no questions accepted.

What was I doing again?  Eh, whatever.  Previous chapter and affront to the IRS here.

Spectral Crown, by Andy Sima: Chapter Twenty-Seven

I woke up to an empty bed.  Iacob left at some point in the night, probably to attend to some matter dealing with the Uradels.  As I stood up and began dressing myself, I found a note on the desk below the mirror, signed with Iacob’s name.  It had a scribbled apology and said something about how I should go to the hallway and be escorted by someone, but I could not quite decipher Iacob’s flowery handwriting.  Nor could I read the words that spelled out my escort’s name.  They appeared to be made of letters I didn’t recognize.

            I soon figured out what I was supposed to do as soon as I opened the door to leave the dining room that stood between Iacob’s private quarters and the hallway.  Upon crossing that threshold, Iacob’s servant appeared out of the shadows, staring at me with dark eyes.

            “Come with me, sir Bergmann,” it said, and turned down the hall.  I glanced at the reptile guards as I passed, in their suits of spiked armor and me in my rumpled work clothes.  Their faces were impassive.

            The silence in that long walk through the castle’s corridors, broken only by the sound of licking flame from the torches or the occasional tapestry fluttering in the wind, was almost deafening.  I decided to do something about it, and so asked a question that had been on my mind.

            “How come you didn’t kill me when I first put my knife to your throat?” I asked.

            The figure of the tallest servant said, “Prince Iacob had instructed me to keep you alive.  But Princess Sorina had instructed me to stop any attempts at escape.  I compromised.”

            We kept walking as I asked, “Who do you answer to?”

            “Myself,” it said.  “Though I was made to serve the Blestemat court.”

            “Like the guards?” I asked.

            “No,” the servant said.  “They were made to serve King Titus.  I was made to serve the court.  The difference, you may find someday, is staggering.”

            I ignored the tone of patronization in its voice but decided to drop the line of questions there.  Although things Iacob had told me still swirled in my head, something in my gut told me that this being was not the one to ask.

            We passed both open and closed doors as we walked through the long halls, and we even passed some blank spaces or niches that looked as if they had been bricked over.  Eventually we made it to a part of the castle I recognized.  We turned a corner and walked through a door, and I found myself in the room where the Uradels and Blestemats had been discussing matters for the marriage.  The royal families were locked in some meaningless conversation and paid me no attention.

            “Go serve your prince,” the servant said.  And then he disappeared back into the shadows, presumably to find Iacob, who was not seated at the table.

            It figured that we would be back to helping the Uradels.  No doubt they had wondered, but not really cared, where their own servants had gone.  Appearances had to remain normal.

            I rounded around the table to the back of the room, where I positioned myself next to my Simon and behind Prince Maynard.  Once Simon saw me, he went pale.

            “Saelac, good to have you back,” he said, cleaning his spectacles and scratching his head.  “I’ve had a pounding headache the past few hours.  Barely noticed you were gone.”

            “Thanks, Simon,” I said.  My mother came around behind the old man and hugged me tightly.

            “Thank heavens you’re okay,” she whispered.  “There were rumors that you were being tortured.”

            “I’m quite alright, mother,” I said.  “Thank you.”

            “Where did they take you?  You’ve been called off by Iacob at odd times before, but never for an entire night,” my mother said.

            “Iacob needed my… advice on some matters,” I said.

            My mother seemed puzzled.  “Advice?  Would they not come to Simon first, then?  Or consult one of their own?”

            “I suppose,” I said, and stared straight ahead.  My mother was still confused, but she took the hint anyway and changed subject.

            “Did you know we have been moved to a different room?” she said.  “Instead of that forsaken pit place, we now live in one quite similar to our rooms back in Uradel.  Is it not a pleasant surprise?”

            “It is, indeed,” I said.  I was scanning the two tables of royals, noting how for the first time the Blestemat royals outnumbered the Uradel royals.  I wondered what happened to the people who had been taken by Iacob’s servant, when it absorbed them.

            I also noticed, uncomfortably, that the stable master and Laurentiu were conversing quietly and darting their eyes in my direction.  When the stable master saw that I had noticed them, he smiled, winked, and stroked his beard.  Laurentiu, too, grimaced.  Even Sorina caught my eye.

            The morning progressed much in that manner, where I made small comments to the other Uradel workers or fetched food and drink for the royalty of my home country, and if I hadn’t known better, I might have thought that everything was going to be okay, that maybe this castle was not actively trying to manipulate me and everyone else in it.  That maybe Iacob was not actually a cursed being who fed off other humans.  That maybe the way Laurentiu looked at me was something other than bloodlust.  But I did know better.

            I wasn’t surprised when, while refilling a glass from the wine cask in the secondary kitchen, the door shut behind me and I heard Laurentiu laugh.  I turned around, wine glass still in hand, and stared at the pale-faced man that stood between me and the door, black locks twisted around his face, all sharp eyes and sharp teeth.

            “Did I tell you that we do not like vermin here in Castle Blestem?” he said, clenching and unclenching his fingers, going from knife-like nails to pale-white fist.

            “You did, yes,” I said.

            “Then why didn’t you listen?” he asked.  He took a step closer, seeming to grow taller as he approached me.  I took a step back, bumping into the wine casket at the top of the stairs to the cellar.

            “I don’t understand what you mean,” I said.

            “Don’t play dumb,” Laurentiu whispered.  “Old Balaur filled me in on your little escape through the stables.”  Balaur?  That must have been the stable master’s real name, then.

            “Then you also must know,” I said, gently positioning myself behind the wine cask, “that Iacob wants us kept alive.”

            “Yes, I know that,” Laurentiu said.  “You may have Iacob in your pocket, Saelac Bergmann, but Sorina is far more knowledgeable than her brother.  She thinks you are a bad influence on her weak-willed sibling.  And she suggested that I help you see the error of your ways.”  Here, the intimidating creature flicked out his fingers, and they had become more like talons than hands.

            “Are you not bound to listen to your prince?” I asked, mentally and physically bracing myself for what I knew was about to happen.

            “I am bound only to the crown,” Laurentiu said.  “And right now, Sorina is closest to wearing it.”  Laurentiu narrowed his eyes and leaned forward on his toes.  “But that doesn’t mean I can’t make my own decisions.”

            Just as I knew he would, Laurentiu lunged forward, razor sharp talons outstretched to grab me, and hair turning into feathers before my eyes.  His eyes lit up a bright yellow, and his teeth seemed to sharpen themselves as he approached.  Using all the strength I had, I threw the wine cask at him and propelled myself down the stairs into the cellar.

            There was a squawk of surprise and outrage from the top of the stairs, but I was already on my way downward by the time it turned to laughter.  I ran as fast as my legs would take me, turning and spinning as the stairwell descended in odd ways.  I heard the fluttering of feathers and metal on stone as whatever monster Laurentiu had become followed me downward.

            “You can’t run forever,” came the laughter from above.

            To my shock, after descending what a dozen or so stories, I found myself face to face with a brick wall in the shape of an arch.  I was ready to turn and face my predator but I realized that the shape of the wall was terribly familiar, and I pushed against it.  The wall collapsed inward and spat me out inside the tunnels.

            I looked around and was surprised to find myself in the series of mazelike passages that Greta, Kolte, and Ema and I had passed through together.  Our smoke markings were still on some corners of the walls.  I was the only surviving member of that trip, now, but I did not have time to think about it.  The clatter of talons on stone were behind me, and a sharp, grating laughter came with them.

            “I can smell you, boy,” the laughter said.  “You smell just like Iacob.”

            I began to run down passages at random, hoping that I could eventually lose my pursuer, or that I could find some way out of this maze.  I noticed that the paths seemed clearer to me now, and that time and space flowed more naturally, as opposed to my previous escapade into the walls.  And every so often, too, there would be a beating in my chest that seemed to direct me where to go.

            The haunting, raven-like laughter of Laurentiu rattled down the halls, and glancing behind me, I could see glowing yellow eyes and the black rustle of feathers.  Or there would be a shadow looming above me, and I would yelp and turn down another passage.  Then Laurentiu would laugh louder, for he knew where I was, and would approach ever closer.  I was losing my lead.

            “Do you know where you are, Saelac?” Laurentiu said.  “Because I do.”

            My breath came shorter and faster the longer I ran.  I couldn’t possibly keep this up until I evaded Laurentiu, relentless as he was.  I had to find something else.  Some other method of escape.  My chest was ready to burst as I stood before a wall, arched at the top, one of the many bricked-over doorways that connected the castle to these tunnels.  Maybe I could escae through there.  So I fell against the wall, crouched down, and started prying out bricks.

            It was tough going without my father’s knife to help me, but I managed to wedge my fingers in just enough to make an opening.  Beyond the wall, a familiar mint green presence oozed from the other side, like the crystal thrones above turned liquid.  I moved more and more bricks until the space was large enough for me to fit through, and hoping beyond hope that I would be safe on the other side, I rolled through the gap I had made, and into the green-ness beyond.  I had seen this room before.

            The wall of emerald light that I had perceived on the other side seemed to shatter as I passed through it.  Or, rather, it shattered into dimensions and spaces beyond my range of perception, for it seemed to simply cease to exist, and suddenly I was in a cramped, dark room with a hole in the wall behind me.  Barely stopping to observe my surroundings, I started to brick it back up.

            The swish of feathers and clack of talons grew louder, as did the laughter that had trailed me for this whole chase.  “Where have you gone, Saelac?  Oh, I do wonder!”  I placed the last brick into the wall, and help my breath, hoping the disguise would hold.

            The sound of Laurentiu approached until I knew he was just on the other side of the wall, and I listened with fear pouring out of me.  From the other side came a deep sniffing, and the tap of talons against the wall.

            “You aren’t cheating, are you, Saelac?”  Laurentiu said.  “I can’t smell you anymore.”

            There was more sniffing, and the sound of talons on stone, and I hugged myself tightly to contain my relief as I realized that the sounds were receding.  I had escaped Laurentiu. 

            Once I figured he was far enough away from me, I breathed a heavy sigh of release and leaned back against a stable part of the wall.  I took a moment to take in the room around me.

            I realized, with a start, that I was in a sort of prison.  No more than four meters by four meters, it held only a grime-encrusted blanket and an empty chamber pot.  It was dark and seemed to have no discernible windows or doors.  I was not surprised when I noticed the two headless skeletons cluttered in the corner of the room.

            Much like the chained skeleton I had found on my first trip into the tunnels, these two bodies were devoid of any flesh, but yet, unlike the other one I found, these maintained a roughly human shape.  They appeared to be seated together, leaning against the wall as if they had been enjoying a casual nap.

            It took me a moment to notice that they were holding their skulls in their laps.  And on one of those skulls, cradled in the hands of one of the sitting skeletons, sat a crystal green crown, and on the other, a matching tiara.  Inside the crown, dark shadows shifted and spun endlessly.  My jaw dropped open, and I approached slowly, well aware of what I was seeing.

            “Finally found us, ey?” the crowned skeleton said, eyes blank but jaw cracking up and down spastically.  I leaped backward, nearly crashing into the wall I had so carefully reconstructed.

            “It’s about time,” the other skeleton head said, mandible flailing wildly about.  “We’ve got a bone to pick with you!”

            And the skeletons of King Titus and Queen Viorel laughed hysterically.

What will next week’s crackpot monologue be about?  I sure fucking don’t know, but it’ll be something stupid, probably.  Thanks for reading all this, anyway.  I hope you’re enjoying the novel, because we’re getting close to the end now.

NYAH, I’m a skeleton, see? And I talk like a 1930’s cartoon gangster, see?

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