Germaine Underbridge was a Grey Skull loyalist. He had served master Josiah for years, and was outranked only by his twin sister Petra Underbridge. Now he waited nervously outside his master’s quarters, in a stylish apartment building in Taelliwey, as he had heard that at last the war against Surra had begun. His hands jittered and he forced himself to take a deep breath. It was he who had planted one of the three bombs that started the war.
He heard the clatter of heels, echoing down the hallway, the assertive gait of his sister arriving in time for the summons. Despite the day they discovered that she was an anomaly – and a remarkably powerful one – Germaine never discarded his duty to protect her. She had changed much since then, and now she approached with her head held high and her diamond-blue eyes gazing down the length of the hall. She smiled with pale lips when she caught sight of her brother. Her silver-yellow hair was loosely bound with a ribbon, and fell in locks down the length of her slender back. Today she had dressed herself in a black and gold corset, and a tight leather coat of crimson-blue, to match her jagged skirt, leather boots, and high black stockings. Germaine noticed she had acquired a new sword – an iniquitous gold-hilted sabre, bound in blue leather.
“Hello brother,” she said, and placed a hand on the hilt of her sword. “A gift from master Josiah, do you like it?”
“We’re already late, we should go in.”
“Of course, best not keep Master Josiah waiting.” Petra brushed past her brother, making sure she was the first to enter the room. Their master was in his study; bent over a letter he was carefully constructing with each elegant stroke of his pen. He kept them waiting as he held it at arm’s length and read over it, then he dropped it into an envelope and sealed it with wax.
Josiah Avenberch was an anomaly, but unlike the others, he sought out his power long before the influx of mystical energy swept over the continent. Thus, much like Arlandra Knight, he was an anomaly among anomalies, and his powers were far greater. He hid his face beneath a golden mask, fashioned in the shape of a skull, and the only feature he failed to obscure from the world here his deathly grey eyes and bushy silver hair which curled down to his shoulders.
His two minions knelt before him as he rose and placed the letter he wrote in his jacket pocket. “My old accomplice Johnathan Bernard has made the mistake of assisting that ruffian Mr. Ford. Taelliwey doesn’t yet suspect our involvement, and after they capture Bernard it’ll be hard for them to think otherwise. I am a little concerned about his friends though, which is why I’ve drawn up a list of names and incorporated them into a series of false letters which will act as further evidence against Bernard’s case. I entrust them to you to distribute them appropriately.”
The underbridge twins spoke in unison, “As you wish, master.” Germaine guessed that his master was smiling beneath that expressionless mask.
“Petra,” Josiah went on. “Have you received word from that mad man Dumont?”
She raised her eyes. “I have, sir. He reports that Merida’s Key is in the hands of an ex-thief named Christel Saan, who is returning home to Eden along the Western Road. He also mentioned something about the girl – said she was the one you were looking for.”
Josiah’s sinister eyes widened with interest. “Two birds with one stone,” he said. “I want you to find the thief and his wife, take the key and bring me the woman unharmed.”
“What about Christel Saan, sir?”
“Fate is on his side. The goddess of time will not allow us to harm her champion until the time is right. We will leave him for now and use the girl to keep him in check. When the time comes he will deliver the key to us willingly. Do you understand your orders?”
“Yes master,” they said in unison.
Josiah stood up and moved to the pedestal where he kept the Aprillian Codex. He flicked through the strange ancient writings, and he understood all of it. The gods will not fail me, he thought, as he glanced to a large map marked with the locations of the five stones. The Fire Stone already rested in a glass box next to the Aprillian Codex. “Good,” he murmured. “Everything is coming together.”
The countryside to the south of Taelliwey was beautiful this time of year, the fields were vast, the trees were green, the sky was bright and pretty, and the gentle sea air was clean and refreshing. Christel couldn’t believe he ever doubted wanting to go home. On horseback, with the cart to carry their things, riding at a comfortable pace along the traveller’s Western Road, it would take a week before he and Hazel reached their home in Eden, but neither of them were in any great hurry.
They spent two nights camping on a remote beach. The nights may have been a little chilly for their tastes – they were raised in the desert, after all – but they built a great fire on the sand and danced around it, or sat under the stars and sipped wine and told each other stories. They spent the days fishing or splashing around in the crystal water, laughing like children.
On the fourth day of their journey they played a little game. One would say something they either did or didn’t do, and the other would guess if it was true or false.
“Once when I was, like, seventeen,” Christel said, “I totally kissed a mermaid.”
Hazel giggled and raised her eyes. “False.” But Christel just smiled at her, and she blurted with surprise, “What! No way, you did not kiss a mermaid.”
“I did! Devin and I had just pulled off a rather small heist and I was moving the take to the island stash. There she was out in the eternal blue, at first just a shape in the water, and then she leaned herself against the rail of the boat and just smiled at me with these dazzling brown eyes.”
Hazel waved her hand. “Stop, I might get jealous. You know mermaids drown sailors, right? I’ve only ever heard their tales told by drunkards. They woo the wicked in for a kiss and then drag them down to the depth below.”
Christel’s lip twitched at the thought. “Good thing I’m not that wicked. C’mon, your turn.”
“Alright,” she thought carefully for a moment. “The most ridiculous thing I’ve ever spent a take on was a cage of Red Lion-monkeys from a travelling circus on Green Road. When I returned to Eden I let them wreak havoc in the market square while I sat on a rooftop eating pineapple rings, laughing like an idiot.”
Christel went to speak but then stopped and placed his fist over his mouth. “Ooh…” he wondered. “That’s tricky. You aren’t nearly that devious, but I sense you’re trying to throw me off. I say it’s true.”
“It’s totally true. You know outside captivity the monkeys never lived this far west until I brought them across the desert. Turns out they’re precocious breeders, they caused a shortage of dates after getting amidst the orchards, and now they’re officially classified as pests in the province of Rhaetalia.”
“Well there you go,” he remarked.
“Alright, what have you got?”
Christel had one in mind that he was certain would throw her off. “Meeting you was the best day of my life.” He grinned.
Hazel rolled her eyes. “Oh, don’t be cheesy!” Then she shrugged. “True.”
“False.” He enjoyed the look in her eye. “Do you remember the day we met? It was horrible!” he said playfully. “I almost died like five times!”
“So what was the best day of your life?”
“Not sure. It’s been a tie between every day since…”
As dusk came upon them Christel and Hazel fed and watered their horses and found a place to rest for the night. Ahead the path broke up as the woods forced them closer to the rocky cliffs over the ocean. It would be unwise to walk a horse over that terrain in the dark.
Christel flicked open his watch and then closed it again – an old habit of his. They built a small fire and dined on some of the supplies left in the saddle bags. In the orange light of the fire Christel observed his watch, the markings engraved upon it, the tiny hands ticking over, it was almost eight o’clock. Feeling the drowsiness of a day’s travel bear upon him, he closed his eyes, just for a moment.
In a terrible flash he saw their little fire burning into a great inferno, and terrible streaks of lightning clashed heavily across the night sky, thunder rolling through the clouds like a drum. He was in great pain and he couldn’t move, and he could hear Hazel screaming!
It was over in an instant. Christel jolted forward with a shout, breathing heavily and sweating as if he had just run a marathon. In front of him the fire crackled away calmly, and the smoke rose into the starry night sky. Everything was quiet, save for the crickets.
Hazel rushed to him with a look of worry. “Are you alright? What was that?’
Christel leaned back and placed a hand on his forehead. “Just… just a nightmare… I don’t know.”
“Well, do you want to talk about it? You frightened me!”
He sat up and faked a smile. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”
“Are you sure? This isn’t the first time this has happened to you. Remember the basilica? Maybe Ariana’s trying to tell you something.”
“Huh, I hope not. She always has bad news.” He opened his watch again, habitually, but stared at it a moment longer. “Let’s just get home, where things are at least kind of normal.”
Christel awoke to a cry of alarm. At first light, on the morning of the fifth day, Grey Skull made their move against the two young thieves. A few smouldering embers remained of the fire, but there was enough light for Christel to see their attackers.
He saw Hazel jump in fright for her sword which lay beside the fire, but she was grabbed around the waist by Germaine Underbridge. When she tried to pry herself free he struck her with the back of his hand, breaking the skin upon her nose with a smear of blood. Christel lunged at him but was hit in the mouth by one of Germaine’s underlings. The blow made his head spin, and the next thing he knew another man had come up behind and wrapped a piece of cord around his throat. He tried calling out to Hazel but only choked on the words, and watched in dismay as Germaine lifted his wife kicking and screaming off her feet, and threw her into a carriage.
He then noticed Petra walking slowly towards him, staring him down with her sleek eyes. “This is Merida’s champion?” She mocked him. “It’d be easier to just kill him now.”
From afar Germaine said, “We have our orders.”
While they were both slightly distracted Christel reached back and dug his thumbs into his captor’s eyes. He then threw his elbow into the screaming man’s ribs and as soon as he was free, he rolled towards the fire, gripped a half-smouldering log and cracked the man over the head, flinging embers into the sky. He managed to collect his sword before the next attacker was on him. It was a quick duel; two parries and then a thrust to the abdomen and his opponent was down. Christel glared with anguish at Petra – who smiled friskily – and he yelled, “Give her back!”
Petra was on him in three long strides and Christel rushed forward for an overhead strike. With little effort Petra brought his blade down with a parry. Christel recovered before she could counter, stepping aside and aiming a swift jab at her ribs. She deflected it again and laughed, knowing that she far outmatched her opponent. Switching to the offensive, she tried a series of blows against Christel, which he barely avoided, but it was only a matter of time before he was knocked off balance. With his torso exposed, Petra used her anomaly power and struck him in the chest with her left hand, which was crackling with electricity. The bolt of lightning knocked Christel back into the dirt, and unable to move, he found himself on the brink of consciousness. The fight was lost.
Hazel… he thought.
Petra threw the rest of Christel’s supplies onto the fire, which lifted and burned angrily as it was fed. The morning sky was spinning above him and the pain in his chest was excruciating. He felt Petra leaning over him, he remembered her blue lips and diamond eyes, her pale hair. She collected the watch from his pocket and turned away. “We have the key, let’s go.”
Christel rolled his head to the side and watched as the carriage that held Hazel slowly faded away, and then everything went black.
ns 172.71.254.228da2