Drake
"A trade agreement," chirped Cliff, waving a paper in Drake's face. "Can you believe it? Signed! Official!"
"Paper is only as official as the army behind it," Drake reminded him, flicking the paper out of his face.
"You are so jaded," Cliff scoffed, taking back his documents and running a hand down them like Drake had wounded them.
"Realistic," Drake corrected him. "There are plenty of Baysellians who don't give a cup of salt about the rules."
"You would know," Cliff muttered darkly. "Most of us want a better tomorrow for families and hard-working citizens who just want to—"
Drake laughed. "Negotiations are over, Cliff. Ratchet back the inspirational speeches. I get it."
Cliff sat down, staring off into the distance, consumed with thought. Drake stifled a groan. They should have left a long time ago, but Cliff kept cycling back through his idealistic crusader speeches, on some sort of negotiation high.
"You don't think this is going to ease tension?" Cliff said, flapping his precious paper. "Give honest traders a reason to stay honest?"
"Of course I do," agreed Drake, half to get Cliff moving again, "but you can't expect Utopia overnight, not when a crumbling monarchy and gang rule is all people know."
"But, look." Cliff waved his paper again. "We've set boundaries. Agreed on common laws. Reopened communication. All without bloodshed."
"As long as people like you keep fighting," Drake acquiesced, "the streets will look more and more like that paper in your hand. The words on the paper. Not the actual—forget it. Are you packed?"
Cliff finally realized that was the most encouragement he was going to receive from Drake, and he hopped up to go crow his achievements to someone more receptive. Drake did not mean to be such a raincloud; he just knew what it was like out there. Sometimes laws were secondary to real life. Maybe jaded was the right word.
Cliff deserved his moment, and Drake felt like a spikefish for taking away some of his pride in his hard work. The trade laws would help honest merchants and maybe offer some real competition to the not-so-honest ones. Besides, Drake was leaving after days of the best food he had eaten in his life, hob-nobbing with royalty, playing with a set of very entertaining magical children, and hanging out with a pretty girl. He was a ringing endorsement for the value of honest work. Bring on Utopia.
He caught sight of a piece of paper fluttering under his bed and bent down to retrieve it. Cliff had kept him up half the night practicing pieces of his speech, discarding most of his flowery prose and ridiculous anecdotes under duress. This was probably a rejected soliloquy about Risa, the fictional brick-layer who was fictionally being squeezed out of her fictional business by fictional black market thugs. Drake's head was just under the frame, and his fingers were inches away from the paper when an unexpected "Hello?" caused him to jerk upward and slam his head on the underside of the bed.
He grabbed the paper in one hand and slid himself out from under the bed, clutching his smarting head. Cliff and Risa had given him a headache twice in two days. How many moons of Utopia would it take him to stop being so jumpy?
"I'm so sorry," gasped Rosaliy. "Are you ok?"
"Fine," he lied instinctively when he saw she was reaching down to examine his head. He stood, shoving the paper in the closest bag and ignoring the growing lump on his head. "I'm sorry we're still here. I almost have Cliff ready to leave." That might have been another lie.
"That's—that's why I'm here."
Rosaliy was quite pale, and her hands were trembling. The change was alarming after all the catastrophes he had watched her handle with a cheerful spirit. Tansy and the lightning strike had been nothing compared to what was bothering her now. Now that the white spots had cleared from Drake's eyes, he could see Alexander standing in the doorway behind Rosaliy. This was serious.
"Do we need to leave faster?" His hosts had seemed so gracious, but perhaps he had overstayed his welcome. More likely Cliff had overstayed his welcome. Or maybe Matias had made good on his threat to speak to Rosaliy. Drake's heart rate sped up.
"No, no." Rosaliy shook her head rapidly. "The opposite. There's been a—"
Alexander touched her arm and shook his head. "Not here."
"Oh, right." She shook her head like she was clearing it. "If you wouldn't mind," she said, gesturing out the door in a "come with me" kind of way. Since this issue did not seem to be about him in any direct way, he did not mind, but without his intervention, Cliff might move into Crystal Palace permanently.
They ran into Cliff in the hallway. He had not done any packing. If he had any, Drake would have bet money on this fact.
"I'm afraid we're going to have to borrow your bodyguard," Alexander said to Cliff.
Cliff looked back and forth between them, searching for clues to why. Rosaliy looked like her dog had just died, so he found cause for concern. Cliff came to clap Drake on the back in farewell.
"Are you ok?" Cliff said softly in his ear. "Do you need any...help?" He jerked his head toward outside. Drake suspected he was offering to ringlead a breakout of some sort. Cliff was such a good friend. Drake felt terrible for being unsupportive of his Utopian vision.
Drake grinned. "I'll be fine, Cliff." This was possibly another lie, but there was no reason to let Cliff drag himself into the situation. "I'm not so sure about you. Keep yourself out of trouble."
"We'll send a few guards with your party, just to be on the safe side," Alexander promised.
The summit had ended peacefully and with concessions on all sides. Everyone had a copy of that paper Cliff was so proud of. Drake was confident his friend was in little danger. No more than normal, anyway.
Cliff gave Drake another once over with his eyes, looking for evidence indicating he should intervene.
"Really, Cliff," promised Drake. "I'll see you soon."
Everyone seemed so on edge, but Drake seemed like an afterthought, not the cause of concern. Someone had invented another job for him, he guessed. He was looking for a new career—maybe his strengths lay in the realm of royal child entertainer. When Alexander and Rosaliy headed straight to the children's room, his instincts were proved correct. Lillya was still sleeping, so Drake found it odd they were meeting there. Rosaliy pushed the door shut behind him. Drake hated having exits shut off behind him, so Alexander's next words did not have their desired impact.
"The children are missing," Alexander said.
Drake shot a glance in sleeping Lillya's direction.
"She's not real," said Rosaliy before he could object.
His eyebrows rose. Something very strange was going on. Although, strange was the order of the day in this place. Maybe this was common. "You need me to help search for them?"
"Not really," said Alexander, frowning.
Was he a suspect in their disappearance?
"Not here, anyway," said Rosaliy. "I'm going on a trip to Kianne, and I could use your—" She trailed off.
"Expertise," Alexander filled in.
Drake very much hoped not.
"You need protection?" he asked hopefully.
"Maybe," she half-agreed.
Alexander had dropped out of the conversation. He was staring at a bookshelf next to phantom Lillya's bed, motionless. Drake nodded his direction, throwing Rosaliy a question with his eyes. What was going on?
"Sir," Rosaliy half whispered. "Alexander? What's wrong?"
The not-a-king reached forward to a blank space on the shelf, like he was touching an invisible volume between Naxturaen water myths and a Taragonian book on geology.
"She packed," he finally said.
Rosaliy stared. "How can you be sure?"
He moved his hand to another blank space. There were a dozen holes, all over the shelves full of books—a random pattern. The books had not been grabbed haphazardly. The missing books had been chosen.
"Fourteen," he murmured. "She was planning for a lengthy trip."
He shook his head, walking to an alcove.
Alexander ran his hand across clothes hanging in an orderly closet. He bent down. "Cloaks, boots..." he murmured.
Drake was starting to see where he was going with this. "So they weren't kidnapped. They left willingly?"
Alexander stared through him, expression blank. Then, he was out the door. Rosaliy rushed to keep pace, Drake still wondering why his presence had been necessary. Alexander burst into the room with the intricately carved door—the waterfall room. Drake should have expected the name to be literal from his experience of a palace filled with living trees, but he was still stunned. The room was a massive forest bedroom complete with a wall of ivy, a wall of bookshelves, a massive bed, and pool ringed with stone wall. Past a tunnel through dense flowering foliage was an adjoining space where water tumbled from a rock opening in the ceiling and pooled on the floor. The logistics of this room hurt Drake's head, so he decided not to question them.
"Are we looking for the toad?" guessed Drake.
Alexander pointed at him as if to verify Drake's words, and he began pushing aside rocks and looking in dark cubbyholes.
Rosaliy peered into the frothing water. "Thistle?"
They were all on hands and knees when Queen Katyrinna encountered them. "What are you doing?" she asked.
"Looking for a toad," Alexander answered.
"A toad who's not here," Rosaliy added on, sweeping her hand through the water.
Katyrinna looked from one to the other, waiting for more information.
Alexander went to her. "Princess, she's taken them somewhere. They left willingly, and they had plenty of time to warn us, but they chose not to. Whatever she told them, it made sense to them."
Drake replaced a large rock not hiding a toad.
"But why?" asked Katyrinna.
"Assuming the worst, she lied to them, and she's using them for her own ends."
Katyrinna's face darkened. "Assuming the best?"
"Give me a second. I'm sure I can come up with something," Alexander muttered. "Have you gotten any weird vibes from her, anything odd?"
"She's always odd," Katyrinna replied.
"I need in her room," said Alexander.
Drake had no idea who they were talking about, but Katyrinna nodded. They trooped in a new direction, an innocuous door a few hallways away. The door was a light wood, plainer than the intricately carved doors in the royal hallway, but still not plain by any means. Katyrinna placed both hands flat on ivy-carved surface.
"Be careful," warned Rosaliy. "It doesn't want to be opened."
Had Drake heard that correctly?
Ignoring the obvious entry point—the ringed door handle—Katyrinna took a step back, palms stretched toward the door handle without touching it. She hesitated. "Everyone step back."
They did. Drake took two steps back. He heard the air crackle and blue lightning shot from Katyrinna's hands toward the door. It responded unfavorably. A blue pulse rebounded from the door, knocking Katyrinna back a step.
She let out a tiny cry.
"I'd rather you not try any more of that," objected Alexander.
Katyrinna put her hands on her hips and glared at the door. Drake was half surprised it did not open then, but it remained stubborn.
"Drake," Alexander said. "Would you keep an eye on this door until we come up with a way to open it."
"Maybe it's too dangerous," Katyrinna fretted.
Watching a door? They had called him up here and made all this fuss to have him guard a door?
"Yell if it does anything, and I'll be here right away," offered Rosaliy.
Does anything? "Like what?"
"I wish I could tell you," replied Katyrinna with chagrin. "Rose, I need your help searching for remedies for magical barriers."
With a worried glance back to Drake, Katyrinna linked arms with Alexander, and Rosaliy scampered after them. Drake was left with an evil door. He would have pinched himself to see if he was dreaming, but he decided to go the smart route and wish himself some ice cream instead. A servant did arrive a short time later with a bowl of stew for a missed lunch, so results were inconclusive.
One could only tug on a useless door handle and press one's ear to a wooden surface and hear nothing so many times before the boredom of watching a door set in. Since the door had no lock, he could not pick the door himself, and he had no tools to do anything more drastic. Of course, if an ax would have solved this problem, he imagined that door would be in splinters already.
So he sat and paced and pondered the life of the royal family. This sort of drama seemed commonplace for them. He had always assumed people with riches and a palace at their disposal had it easy, but it seemed they traded the worry of knowing where their next meal was coming from with worry over who wanted to steal their children. He would probably be more jaded with money than without.
Just before sunset, someone came through to light globes in the dimming hallway. "Anything interesting happening with the door?" the servant asked hopefully.
What did everyone expect this door to do? "No."
"Sorry to hear that," the man said, dipping his lit stick of fire into another globe that flared and glowed in response. "Or maybe I'm not. It is...you know..." His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "Hers."
Drake kept a little further from the door after that conversation.
Finally, Rosaliy checked in, smeared in green, carrying a deep wooden bowl she used to paint a symbol on the door. For lack of sophisticated magical vocabulary, the best Drake could say is the door rejected the attempt. The green symbol slid off the door and dripped into a sad gloppy puddle on the floor.
She rubbed the back of her arm across her forehead to avoid smearing herself further with her green fingers. "It was worth a try," she sighed. "If Athena was here, she'd have this door open by now."
"What exactly am I waiting for?" Drake ventured the question. He was sorry to ask; she was clearly having a worse time than he was.
"What's coming next," Rosaliy told him. "We're out of communication with just about everyone," she said, eyes not focused on him, but on the door. She ran her fingers down the wood. "It's frustrating and...scary, like we're under some sort of attack. What's going on?"
He had no answers, but he was going to take his best stab at a weak platitude when he was interrupted by a dull creak.
Rosaliy jumped back.
"Did that come from the door?" he asked. He was more excited than he should have been.
The sound of creaking wood was louder this time and definitely from the door. Rosaliy drew close, pressing her ear to the wooden surface.
"Maybe you shouldn't—" Drake started to say.
He was interrupted when the door burst open, jettisoning Rosaliy straight into him.
A shrieking wall of jagged black careened from the door. Instinctively, he and Rosaliy dropped to the ground to avoid the dark rush, and his hands flew to his ears to block out the high-pitched screams. The shadowy mass shattered on the wall, splitting into two streams that raced both directions down the hallway.
As the black mass separated, Drake realized he was looking at hundreds of shadowy creatures streaming through the air. They were packed so tightly together, they appeared at a glance to be a solid wall of darkness. The dark streaks jostled each other as they flew down the hallway, shattering a mirror when one shadow beast elbowed another into the wall.
Rosaliy was already on her feet and tugging Drake after her. "Come on," she yelled, hopping over the shattered glass.
They tried to avoid the rush of murky creatures, but the creatures were not interested in avoiding them. Occasionally, the shadows slid right through Drake's body like a bucket of ice water, if ice water was able to pierce through skin and bone. When the shadow creatures reached new corridors and hallways, they split erratically, streaking without purpose in all directions. He and Rosaliy burst onto the entryway where Katyrinna and Alexander were just arriving from another direction.
"What's happening?" Alexander yelled from his staircase to theirs.
"The door opened," Rosaliy called back over the screeching of the creatures. With the extra space, the jagged shadows were flying around in spirals, knocking paintings off walls and looking very much like they might topple the brilliantly lit chandelier at any moment.
So much for guarding the door.
Katyrinna stretched out a hand, and a glowing net tightened around two of the creatures. One was quick to flit out with a shrieking laugh before the net clamped down, but the other wailed and flung itself against the prison of light, trying to force itself free. Most of the remaining shadows saw fit to flee from her, speeding down adjoining hallways and stairways to escape.
Another light glowed next to Katyrinna. Drake hoped for more anti-shadow magic at work, but the edges of the brightening glow shimmered, taking on arms and legs until the light solidified into the glowing form of a woman. Even though the woman spoke softly, Drake could hear her voice separately from the screaming creatures.
"Oh, Rinna," said the glowing woman, sparkling arms reaching out to embrace Katyrinna. "This is the first night I've been able to come. We've been seeing snatches of what's going on."
Katyrinna's reply was swallowed up by the sound of a painting splintering on the marble floor below.
"You won't be glad for long," moaned the woman in response. Darkness flickered through her glowing form. "I don't have any information for you, and the ancestors are panicked. They don't want to take any chances with the safety of your baby, and these creatures have pushed them over the edge."
"They're not even dark magic," Katyrinna grumbled. "They're just annoying."
Her point was punctuated when a shimmering glass candleholder fell from the swinging chandelier and shattered on the floor.
"Are the star women planning on being useful?" asked Alexander, rescuing a marble statue about to topple.
"I wish," the glowing woman replied. "They want to take you to safety."
"No," Katyrinna practically shouted. "They do not get to make that choice! I need to search for my children!"
"I'm so sorry," the woman said. "I tried to reason with them. I was barely able to beat them here to warn you before they—"
In that instant, Queen Katyrinna, Alexander, and the woman of light vanished.