u/thefuzzsakenone

Previous Chapter: It Begins With a Betrayal

Chapter 2: Ill-Gotten Goods

A metal serving tray hurtled over Gareth’s head, missing him by mere inches. The tray crashed to the ground behind him and sent a large dark brown loaf of bread rolling across the stonework floor.

A tall man with golden blonde hair bore down on him and stabbed a finger hard into his chest. “How dare you even think for one second that you could serve me that burnt brick? It’s hardly fit for the pigs out in the sty!”

The man flung out an imperious hand and another a tray of pastries went skidding across the bench and clattered face down onto the floor.

With a huff, the man clapped the crumbs from his hands and tugged his tunic back into position. He once again looked like the very picture of the nobility he had been born into.

“Now, I expect you to fix this and redo all of this trash in time for supper. With this quality of work I know you don’t have any respect for yourself, but you had better have some respect for me if you know what’s what.

“I am a Knight of the Garden, the Seneschal of this castle, and brother of the Forever King. You will treat me as such, and that means I only eat bread that has been baked properly. Do you understand me, Gareth?”

“Yes.”

The knight glared at him, his foot tapping expectantly.

“Yes, Sir Kae,” Gareth corrected.

“Better,” the knight sneered.

With a snarl for Gareth and a glare for the rest of the cooks, Kae spun on his heels and swept out of the kitchens, making sure to slam the door behind him. The tension in the cookery evaporated the second he left and the other cooks and maids went back to laughing and joking as if nothing had happened.

Gareth wiped the spittle from his face and knelt down to pick up the food left in the stormy knight’s wake.

A portly man with grey curls spilling around his shoulders, knelt down next to Gareth and started helping him pick up the fallen pastries. “Oy, is it just me or is old Kae especially bad today?”

“Aye he’s in a right awful mood today, that’s for sure,” Gareth replied.

“Fine, fine, but that don’t mean he got to take it out on you though. He’s a right ass to everyone but he always goes out of his way to go after you,” Alvin muttered.

“It’s fine. I’m used to being Kae’s practice dummy. The man has always hated me.” Gareth arranged the salvageable pastries onto a tray. They couldn’t serve them to the nobles now, but that meant the cooks could eat them instead. He quietly tucked the ones too ruined to serve into the pocket of his apron where he had already stashed a small block of cheese.

“Thanks for the help, Alvin. Appreciate it.”

The older man got up with a groan. “Don’t mention it, Gar. Shame about that bread though. Now you’d best be starting a new one unless you want old Kae to come after you again.”

Gareth reached under the table and retrieved a second large loaf of bread. It had been baked to perfection with singed ears and a golden, blistered crust. He held it out to Alvin with a grin.

“A little birdie told me Kae would try something like this. I knew he’d come after me today no matter what I did so I just burned that one a little bit to give him something to chase after. ‘Kept this other one as a backup.”

Alvin stared at him slackjawed before a laugh bubbled out of him. “You sneaky goat! Now how’d you think of something like that? Your wife and her old demon look into the future for you?”

Gareth grimaced inwardly at the mention of Vivaine and Myradin. Alvin was his one friend in the castle and the one person who’s never given him any trouble because of his wife’s duties to the wizard, but that didn’t mean he didn’t think the same thing everyone else thought: that he was some cuckold to a demon.

He made himself put those thoughts aside. No point in worrying about what other people thought they knew about him and his wife, he had more important things to worry about today like gathering the rest of the supplies that they’d need for their journey.

“Enough of that, Alvin. Hey listen, can you finish plating my pastries for me? I need to head out for the rest of the day.”

“Are you serious, man? You’re going to just up and leave after Kae nearly decapitated you with a serving platter? What if he comes back with another word for you and you’re not here? I’ll not wake up tomorrow and find you hanging from the castle walls!”

“Calm yourself, man. Nothing like that will happen. Kae hardly ever comes down here in the first place. What are the odds he’ll come down here twice in one day? He’ll probably be too busy yelling at the castle cats for not catching enough mice this week.

“Half the castle is off on some quest, which means there’s half as many mouths to feed and half as much work for us. It’s only just midday and we’re practically done already. You know the other cooks wish I wasn’t here anyways.”

When the older man seemed reluctant, Gareth gave the older man a friendly shove on the shoulder.

“Oh come on, Al! It’s Vivaine’s birthday tomorrow. I just wanted to catch a rabbit so I could make her a stew for supper. Listen, if I manage to catch two, I’ll give you the other one.”

Alvin chewed at his lip. “Hmph fine, fine. Off you go then. Just don’t get caught. Lord knows I don’t want to train another mediocre baker.”

Gareth grinned and rushed over to his things. He unloaded the ruined pastries, the singed loaf of bread, and a half used block of cheese into a sack. He shed his apron and threw that on top to hide them.

The kitchens were built as a separate building from the rest of the castle and stood in a small glade next to the river about a hundred yards from the stables and the practice yard. That made it easier for the cooks to receive store shipments and to retrieve fresh water, all while reducing the risk of any potential fires from spreading from the kitchen into the castle main.

Gareth crossed the green with his satchel thrown over his shoulder and made his way across the practice yard. The crack-crack of dozens of wooden swords clattering against each other rang out over the field. While most of the knights and their older squires had left already, the pages were too young to be taken out on quests and had been left behind to continue their training.

Gareth paused and watched the pages train for a moment. When he was young he’d dreamt of being one of these boys. He wanted to learn to ride a horse and to duel and joust until he mastered every one of the chivalric arts one by one. He wanted to be chosen by the greatest knight in the land to be his squire and ultimately be knighted by him too. He wanted to go on grand adventures slaying monsters and saving damsels until the King recognized his bravery and offered him his place among the Knights of the Garden.

But instead he was put in the kitchens when he turned 8 and hadn’t left in almost thirty years. Apparently having a noble father didn’t automatically make you a noble. It just made you a bastard.

But at least he was a bastard with a quest.

He still couldn’t believe what Vivaine had talked him into. He had hardly ever stepped foot outside of Castle Carelon, let alone ventured halfway across the known world trying to track down Sir Dane. They’d start their journey by heading towards the Great Battlefield at Prenafal. Dane had left with his retinue on horseback so they had little chance of catching up to him before then, but they would have to leave their horses before descending the trunk of the Great Tree.

Vivaine reasoned that Dane and the other knights would be slowed down by having to fend off monsters and demons as they descended Prenafal. That would give them the time they needed to catch up to them. If all went according to the plan, they’d find him before he reached the foul hell known as Anwyn.

Anwyn, home of the Fomoria.

Everyone in Carelon knew the stories. Knights who had come back from fending off their invasions from Prenefal told tale after tale of the demon Fomoria. Stories about how bloodthirsty they are, now they tear you open so they can feast on your souls, how they were once men whose inner demons ate them up inside and out.

He hoped he wouldn’t need to if everything went according to their plan. Almost all of the Knights of the Garden left Carelon these past few days in hopes of completing the King’s Holy Quest. Nobody but the King and his knights know exactly what the quest entails, but he’d heard rumors that they were going down into the foul depths of Anwyn. And if that were the case, all he and Vivaine would have to do would be to let the knights do what they do best, and then follow in their wake after most of the Fomoria were killed. They would still be in danger from any stragglers though.

Shivers ran up Gareth’s spine at the thought of having to face one himself. He tried imagining any one of those pages or squires going up against a demon. He couldn’t. Or he could and it didn’t go the way he wanted it to. They were young but they actually had training in weapons and combat.

He on the other hand was a cook, not a knight or even a page. What chances did he stand?

The ridiculousness of this whole situation made a laugh bubble out from Gareth. All of this trouble, all of this danger, just to save one dog. A dog who snuck out of the kennels to come find him so many times that the kennel master gave up trying to stop him. A dog who stole food from his kitchen every morning and his wife’s shoes every night.

Orfeo, his and Vivaine’s dog.

A few paces ahead of him he spotted a lone practice sword lay discarded in the tall grass. He picked it up and hefted it in his hands. It was lighter than a real sword of course, but it was heavy enough that it could still do some damage. Part of the tip had been broken off so the blade ended in a jagged, splintered point.

Gareth turned back to the path back and hurried back to his hut with his stolen sword and food in hand.

Vivaine and Orfeo were waiting.

I’m learning to speak Cantonese and thought it would be fun to listen to more canto songs throughout the day. A lot of the stuff I found on a casual search seemed to be slow adult contemporary style love songs which was cool but not really my style. I found some hip hop and rap stuff which was fun but looking for other recommendations.

I’m open to any genre except screamo rock.

Spears of light pierced the cramped spiral staircase and barely illuminated the three hundred and one steps up to the magician’s keep. Vivaine had climbed these same steps nearly every day for the past five years, ever since Myradin had started asking for her specifically.

That had been a blessing in many ways. It let her leave the hot, stuffy kitchens during the hottest parts of the day and most of the time she would bring him food and tidy up his things while he worked. But other times he would ask her to sit and they would just talk. At first she found it unnerving talking to one of the most powerful men in all of Aved, let alone a mage, but he seemed to like talking to her. She imagined it must be lonely being the King’s magician. Even those he advised feared him. And so, she was happy enough to share his meals with him and listen to him spin tales of wonder every so often. She found him witty and sharp tongued, a combination she appreciated, and she considered themselves friends regardless of the vast difference in their station.

She considered being chosen by one of the most important people in all of Aved, the advisor to the Forever King himself, was an honor, even if she was just his maid. Unfortunately many in the castle didn’t see it that way. Rumors spiraled about the demon spawned wizard and his common born play thing. She still got stares, especially when she walked amongst the other commonfolk. Luckily none dared cross the King’s wizard for fear of him casting a spell on them so they never did anything but gawk.

Her poor husband got the worst of it. Gareth trusted her, and she him. He knew there was nothing untoward happening between them; he had even met Myradin a handful of times. So he put up with the jeers and tried not to let them escalate into fights too often. The saint.

Vivaine shifted her tray of sweets and fresh fruit to one hand as she approached the entry way to Myradin’s chambers. The massive slab of oak always scared her. He had told her that oak had natural magic repellant properties and that the King had installed the door as a preventative measure to stop any of the wizard’s experiments from running amok. Vivaine didn’t know if that was true or not, but she couldn’t help but feel like it made Myradin a prisoner in his own tower.

She pressed her hand against the door and forced herself to take a deep breath. She wondered if this would be the last time she ever came in here. The last time she ever brought him his meal. The last time she ever saw her strange, magical friend. Surely he would not want to see her again after today.

If she ever did see him again, it would likely be from afar as the King’s men tightened a noose around her neck.

She forced herself to exhale before knocking twice on the wizard’s door. She paused for a breath and then rapped three times more. The door responded with a groan and shifted open of its own accord. She pushed it open with her free arm and crossed the entryway, eager to leave the cramped darkness of the stairwell.

Morning light flooded Myradin’s chambers making it glow with a soft gold hue even in the winter. Automatically, her eyes were pulled to his worktable. The desk drowned under a sea of half scribbled pages. The desk alone carried more paper than she could afford in a lifetime. Floating lanterns drifted over the paper like enormous fireflies. One moved over to a stack of books and that’s when she caught sight of it.

A small leatherbound book sitting on top of the stack.

It was there, out in the open only a few paces away from her. She lifted her leg and took half a step towards it but caught herself. She forced herself to turn away from it and approached the four poster bed instead.

The old wizard lay buried under layers and layers of blankets leaving only his head visible. A single floating lantern hovered above him, casting shadows across the deep wrinkles of his face. He was by far the oldest man she or anyone in the castle had ever seen.

“I’m not dead yet, Vivaine. Now hurry and come sit next to me before I prove myself wrong,” the old wizard said without even opening his eyes.

“The day you’re wrong about something is the day a Formorian learns to eat with a fork.”

“Now don’t say that. I’ve been wrong about many things in life, my friend, and the Fomoria are not so different from you and I.”

His friend. Her heart twisted but she forced herself to smile and take her usual seat beside his bed. She placed her tray down next to her and began peeling and slicing an apple for him.

“Maybe not so different from you, but I don’t have nearly as much hair in my ears as you lot.”

“Yes, it is getting a bit harder to hear your poorly crafted jokes of late,” he said, shooting her a wry smile. It seemed to take all of his effort to force himself up into a sitting position. Once he caught his breath, he accepted a thin slice of apple from her. “Now tell me, how are things down below, Vivaine?”

“Quiet,” she replied, munching on a slice for herself. “Not much to do now that the King has sent away almost all of his knights on this big quest. The castle is nearly empty.”

“Go on,” he encouraged, his ghostly blue eyes staring intently into her.

“What is there to say? You know the details of this better than I.”

“Yes, but it matters to me what people who aren’t in the King’s retinue know and think about things too.”

“Fine. Nearly all of the knights have left to go find something the King wants. Gods know what they’re chasing, but those that went took all their men with them like they were headed off to war. Most of them headed east towards the Great Tree so my guess is that they’re going to Anwyn.”

“Intuitive as ever, Vivaine. And what do you think of this quest?”

“It sounds dangerous. And doubly stupid, if you ask me.”

“Aye. Both of those things are true.” Myradin’s lips pressed into a small, sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry Vivaine. I know Sir Dane took Orfeo with him.”

She tore her eyes away from his and forced herself to look down at her hands instead. “Why would he go and do that? What’s the point in taking a hunting dog with you to the Underworld?”

“I’m sorry Vivaine. I know that dog meant much to you and Gareth.” The wizard averted his gaze for a moment before looking back at her, his eyes intent on her’s. “Would I lose your friendship if I told you that this whole quest was my idea? Or if I impressed upon you just how important this quest is?”

She didn’t reply. She just stuffed another slice of apple into her mouth to try to stop the sobs and hateful words from spewing from her mouth.

He seemed tired all of a sudden, and she almost saw how years of hard decisions had etched the wrinkles into his face. “Here. Go to my desk and bring me one of my books. You’ve seen it. The small skinbound book with a purple cover. You know the one. It’s on my desk over there.”

Her heart stopped and she hoped she caught herself before her face showed any reaction.

She did as he commanded and got up to fetch the book from his desk. It was small, hardly larger than her palm, and bound in thick, old leather. The book looked like it had been heavily abused before it fell into Myradin’s hands. Its cover looked as if it had been burnt before and half of its pages were torn out.

When she returned to his bedside, she tried to hand the book to him but he shook his head. “It’s useless to me now. My eyes can hardly make out the symbols anymore. I have it memorized anyways. No, no, you hold it. I wanted you to look at it.”

Vivaine was sure he could hear her heart pounding in her chest. She had retrieved books for him countless times but this was the first time he had let her actually look at them with him.

“This here is one of the most important books in my collection. Its title was lost to the ages, so I’ve simply been referring to it as the Book of the Worlds. It dates back to the days of the Great Flood, if you believe it. Now open it to the page that I marked. Gently, please.”

She did as he asked and carefully turned the pages until the book revealed an ornate three tiered drawing of an enormous tree.

“That’s a map of the Worlds, Vivaine. At the bottom, that’s the Underworld, Anwyn. There in the middle is where we live, Aved. And at the very top is Abbaron. And connecting all three Worlds is Prenafal, the Great Tree. Or at least it used to connect all three, before Abbaron left on its wandering journey.”

Myradin’s bony finger gestured at the book and Vivaine flipped to the next marked page. It was another drawing but the page was almost entirely black with ink. It looked to be another map with features labeled with writing so small she had to squint to make them out.

“Anwyn, home of the Fomoria,” he said gravely. “It’s been many, many years since I’ve been there. And that drawing that you’re looking at is the only reason I was able to survive, Vivaine. That’s the most complete map of the Underworld that anyone on Aved, and probably anyone in all three Worlds, has.”

Vivaine’s eyes grew and she didn’t have to pretend to be in awe of it. She already knew the book contained the map of Anwyn, that’s why she needed it, but she never expected that Myradin himself would show it to her and explain it to her. She poured over the map, tracing her finger over the tiny scribbling indicating the Underword’s endless marshes.

“Down there, the Fomoria are growing stronger than ever. They’re unifying, Vivaine. I never would have believed it if the stars hadn’t shown me. I suppose it makes sense though. Annwyn and Aved have always been twins, their fates parallel to each other. It was only a matter of time after Arto unified Aved that the same thing happened in Annwyn.

“The Fomoria have magicks we know nothing about. If they manage to gather their strength and attack as a unified force…it will be like nothing we have ever faced before. I fear we may not be able to stop them.

“But there is still hope. Somewhere down there in the muck and mud is a very important, very powerful item that we need, that the King needs. Something I believe will save us all. And we must recover it before Abbaron arrives in a year.”

Myradin stared through her, past her, his mind far away planning campaigns and contingencies she couldn’t even hope to imagine.

“Abbaron? What does that have to do with the Fomoria? I don’t understand.”

The old wizard shook his head slightly and brought himself back to the present. “I think I’ve rambled enough for today, my friend. I’m sorry but I believe I need to cut our time together short. Can you please see yourself out? I’m much more tired than I expected to be. To think this is what I’ve been reduced to.” He smiled one last time at her before he gave in and let his eyelids sag closed. He turned away from her and buried his face deep into the blankets once again.

Within seconds Myradin was sound asleep and a thin line of drool was already carving its way down onto his pillow. Vivaine stared speechless at the tired old man and then down at the priceless artifact clutched in her hands. Was it really so easy? Was betraying her friend really so simple?

She rose quietly and pressed a kiss to the sleeping wizard’s temple.

“Sleep well, friend. And I’m sorry.”

Vivaine slipped the book into the folds of her dress and left without another word.