"No," Claire replied, shaking her head. Why had this man called her by her mother's name? She was about to ask when Draz's hand grabbed hold of the man's wrist.
"Let her go," Draz said, his eyes narrowed on the stranger.
"Or else what?" the man replied, his gaze sliding towards Draz once again filled with his earlier contempt.
Claire felt a wave of heat, like a breeze, sweep out from the tangle of arms on the counter. By now the altercation had attracted the attention of the bartender and the other patrons. Claire could feel their eyes on them and wished she had listened to Draz and just left the cards.
The man chuckled, the sound as grating and gravelly as his voice, as though he was producing it for the first time in years.
"I know you," the man said, "the Great Drazenko, isn't that what you call yourself?"
Draz smirked.
"You like to play with fire," the man continued casually, his grip on Claire's wrist never loosening, "don't you know that if you play long enough, eventually you'll get burned?"
Draz opened his mouth to speak but before he could get a word out, he was suddenly thrown backwards, landing about ten feet way, upsetting a table and some chairs in the process.
"Draz!" Claire shouted, trying to pull away so she could make sure he was okay.
The stranger's grip on her wrist tightened. "Don't worry about him, he'll live," the man said, "tell me why you think these cards belong to you."
"Because they ... they protect me," she said at last.
"Protect you?" the man said sounding incredulous.
"Yes, whenever I'm in trouble, or need something, they help me," Claire explained.
"Well you see, the thing is, these cards, they're special," the man replied, "they only have one true master and that's me, but magic is, well, magic, and it doesn't always work the way you expect. Sometimes something you expect to happen doesn't, or it doesn't happen exactly like you wanted, and sometimes there are unanticipated side effects."
"Without getting into the details of it, these cards here are only supposed to listen to me, but something, or someone, changed the rules," he looked pointedly at her, "takes awful powerful magic to do that."
"I'm not powerful, I didn't do anything to them," Claire protested. "They just ..."
"How are you related to Nathalie?"
The question caught her by surprise.
"What?"
"You heard me," he said, "the cards only listen to me, and I gave them an order twenty five years ago to protect a woman named Nathalie. You are not her, but yet you claim that they protect you. Magic of this kind is lazy, it rarely does things it is not asked to do. So I will ask again, what is your relation to Nathalie?"
"S-she's my mother," Claire stammered at last. "Nathalie is... was... my mother."
The man's hold on her wrist fell away and Claire took a step back.
"Impossible," the man replied, his voice quiet.
"Who are you? How do you know my mother? Why... why did you want to protect her?"
The man didn't speak, simply stared, not at her, but beyond, at some distant memory Claire was not privy to.
"Claire, are you okay?" Rollan stepped in close and she felt his arm wrap around her waist. "You look pale."
"I'm fine, where is Draz?"
"He's fine, he's um, I think your friend here did something to knock him out," Rollan replied, turning back towards the man who still seemed lost in his thoughts. Rollan frowned and leaned in close, squinting for a moment before jerking back in surprise.
"Valerick?"
The man slowly seemed to come back to himself, his gaze settling on Rollan.
"I haven't gone by that name in decades, I didn't think there were any left alive who knew it, none that would care to speak it anyway, who are you?"
"That's not important right now," Rollan said, eyes wide. He looked at Claire. "Claire, this man, he's-"
"Enough," the man said, slamming a fist against the counter top.
Rollan scowled.
"What's the matter, Val? Truth too much to handle? He's your father, Claire," Draz grunted as he hauled himself to his feet. "Valerick Belmont, Grand Master Magician and former advisor to the king. That was a dirty trick you bastard, I think I broke something..."
"Too bad it wasn't your mouth..." Rollan grumbled.
"What?" Claire gasped, her eyes darting from face to face, waiting for someone to tell her it was some sort of joke. "No, that's impossible, my father is dead. My mom, she always told me... that he was dead."
"Then it's probably true, he's probably dead," Valerick replied, averting his eyes. "I'm not father material."
"How old are you, Claire?" Rollan asked.
"Twenty three, well, twenty four in the fall," she replied, her thoughts whirling.
"Hmm, that would mean that my aunt was pregnant before she went to Earth," Rollan said thoughtfully.
"Nathalie would have told me, if she had told me I never would have let her go," Valerick argued, still refusing to meet Claire's gaze. She felt as though she had once again had her life turned completely upside down. Her chest felt tight and the small space suddenly seemed too small.
"I need some air," she said at last, pulling away from Rollan. "I just need a minute and some air."
She ignored the stares of the patrons as she walked with brisk strides towards the door. She just needed to be away, to collect her thoughts, to try to make sense of it all.
If there was any sense to be had.
In the span of a few days she had gone from thinking she was an orphan with no family to speak of, to learning she had a cousin who lived the better part of his life as a doll, an uncle who had murdered his own brother, and now, to top it all off, an alcoholic father in desperate need of a bath and a haircut.
What else could there possibly be? Did she have a sibling she didn't know about? A long lost twin perhaps?
Taking a deep breath, Claire wrinkled her nose and quickly concluded that the air outside the pub wasn't any clearer, or cleaner, than had it been inside. In fact, it might have been worse with a heavy, underlying stench that Claire had no desire to identify. While it was nice to get away, to take a moment to herself to figure out how to approach this whole situation, the alley was eerily quiet which made her uneasy.
Knowing it wouldn't be long before Draz or Rollan came out attempting to offer sage words of advice, Claire decided it was best if she went back in and tried to face this thing head on. So her father wasn't the best of role models, he was alive and that was better than not having any father at all... right?
As she turned to go back into the pub, a shadow fell over her and she looked back to see a large figure dropping down from above, arms outstretched. She tried to jump clear, but wasn't quick enough. Two large hands caught her beneath her arms and jerked her clean off her feet. She let out a yell of outrage and struggled to free herself as the arms locked around her.
"I'd stop fighting if I were you," her captor whispered in her ear. "It'll be a mess if you fall..."
Claire realized he was right. If she fell from this height she was liable to break something -- most likely her neck.
"Good, now, your friends are going to come rushing out that door any moment and I imagine they're not going to be particularly pleased by this turn of events," he continued calmly, "but if for some reason you feel compelled to try anything foolish, it will only end up getting someone hurt in the end. I assure you it won't be me."
"Why are you doing this?" Claire asked, doing her best to keep herself calm.
"Why does anyone do anything?" he asked. "Ah, here we go..."
Claire looked down to see Draz dash through the door, followed by Rollan.
"So predictable," the man called out and Claire could hear the smile in his voice. Draz and Rollan both looked up. Fire immediately began to shimmer between Draz's fingers and Rollan's hand dropped to the blade at his hip. "Now, now boys are such hostilities really necessary? Especially between old friends?"
Friends?
"I'm afraid I don't follow," Draz shot back, sounding both angry and annoyed.
"I suppose you wouldn't recognize me, how many years has it been since you left Drift? Ten?" he continued. "A great many things have changed since then."
"Why don't you quit playing games and just tell us what you want?" Rollan shouted.
"Oh, I have what I've come for," he replied, "I just thought I'd give an old friend a fighting chance to get it back. No matter. As much as I'd love to stay and chat, I've got places to go, people to see, accounts to settle. Perhaps I'll see you around."
The ground began to grow more distant while her friends grew smaller, and Claire looked up to see that the man holding her was suspended by a rope from what appeared to be the railing of a ship. They were being pulled towards the ship a little at a time by three large men.
"We'll find you!" Draz shouted.
"They'll come for me," she said causing the man holding her to laugh.
"I'm counting on it," he replied. "And as long as you do exactly as I say, you'll be alive when they do."
The ship was unlike anything Claire had ever seen. The body of the vessel was long and sleek, the wood polished till it shone, the copper fittings gleaming in the sunlight. It resembled a ship out of time, the sort of ship a pirate of old would have sailed, but that is were the similarities ended. Instead of sails the ship had a large balloon and several smaller balloons that allowed it to hang suspended in the air, similar to that of a blimp. Thrusting out from either side were huge propellers like that of a plane that allowed the pilot to propel the ship forwards.
She lingered by the railing long after the men who had hauled them up had left to tend to other things. She supposed they didn't feel any need to detain her, it wasn't like she could get far.
"Amazing, isn't it?"
"Yes," Claire breathed as the ship traveled slowly over the city offering her a breathtaking view. She felt her cheeks grow warm. "I mean... "
"Believe me, I understand. I remember my first time on an airship," he continued, leaning against the railing. "I had never felt so free and I never wanted it to land."
"Why am I here?" Claire asked, not wanting to get overly personal with him under the circumstances.
"Straight to the point, I like it," he replied. "It's nothing personal, Claire, it's business."
"How do you know my name?"
"I made it my business to know your name," he said. "I was offered a considerable sum of money to acquire you."
"You mean kidnap," Claire corrected him. He shrugged.
"If that's how you wish to see it, I certainly can't change your mind."
"By who?" she asked.
"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, Claire" he replied matter-of-fact. "I haven't even properly introduced myself. My name is Zou Xieren, you may call me Xieren. I am the one in charge of all you see before you and below you."
Claire looked towards him. "You mean the whole city?"
"Is it that unbelievable?"
"No, well, it just seems strange that no one has done anything to reclaim this place once the sickness ran its course," she replied. "I can tell it used to be quite beautiful."
Xieren smiled and reached up to grab hold of the rigging. He pulled himself up, booted feet planted firmly against the polished railing. Wind whipped around him, catching hold of the green silk sash wrapped around his hips and causing it to flutter wildly. Claire felt a flicker of concern and then remembered that this man was not her friend, even if he acted more friend than enemy.
"There was once a time when the skies over Drift were filled with all manner of craft from small pleasure cruisers to larger vessels bound for far off places. These towers were used as docking points allowing passengers and crew to easily disembark and enjoy the pleasures of the city below," he explained, arm sweeping out towards the towers as the ship wove around them.
"When the city fell to disease, people were afraid to come back, afraid that the sickness still lurked beneath the gilded ruins. Some had no choice but to return, they had nowhere else to go, others, like myself, took advantage of the fear. We perpetrated rumors about continued infections and that worked well enough for a time, leaving us to our own devices. We were young then, young and reckless."
"By we, you mean you and Draz," Claire said causing Xieren to look down at her.
"That's right," he replied. "Draz and I go way back..."
"Captain Zou," a voice interrupted. "We're preparing to dock at the West Tower."
Claire turned to see a dark skinned man strolling towards them from the direction of the wheelhouse. His stride was casual, his thumbs hooked in belt loops of a pair of dark pants, and on each hip was a pistol, a six shooter her grandfather would have said, gleaming silver in the sunlight.
"Thank you for the update, Jonas," Xieren replied, dropping skillfully from his perch on the railing to the deck below. "Claire, this is Jonas Beck, my first mate aboard the Zephyr and my right hand in all other matters ground side."
Jonas offered her a toothy smile and a bow. "At your service, ma'am. If you need anything just let me know."
Claire nodded and if Jonas noticed her confusion he said nothing. He simply offered another short bow and strolled away, whistling softly.
"I'm confused," Claire said, looking to Xieren who was watching her with a look of amusement. "You kidnap me, but treat me as though--"
"You're my guest?" Xieren interrupted.
"Yes, I guess," Claire said after a moment of thought.
"I see no reason to treat you poorly," he explained with a shrug. "Like I said before, kidnapping is how you see it, but if it would make you feel better I can arrange to have you bound and gagged and tossed into the brig."
---------
*Author's Note*
I hope you all enjoyed reading that as much as I enjoyed writing it. Xieren might be my new favorite character! He's a lot of fun to write for sure. Just a shout out to all my loyal fans. Without you, I'd have no one to write for so I appreciate your time and dedication!
That being said, I am starting a new novel - Marked - that is set in the same world as Winter Fire, not in Oria, but a different part of the 'planet' if you will. I think you guys will really like it, I was going to wait a bit before I started posting it but I'm just so excited about it that I can't keep it to myself any longer! I look forward to your comments!
<3 Avelley