Here Shines the Sun (43 page)

“Erygion, no!” screamed Karinael.

The creature was sucked into Erygion’s Caliber. Fires flared all around. And then all at once the fiery aura collapsed in on itself, leaving behind no trace of the creature, not even its bones.

Charred earth smoldered around Erygion’s empty armor, the subsiding rain sizzling off of it. The clouds began to break, casting the landscape in the light of the evening sun. All was silent.

Karinael crawled to Erygion’s armor, taking his empty gauntlet into her hand. She collapsed, her body wracked by sobs.

— 18 —

Tea Party

Dark clouds circled the city of Valdaria. Rain came down in a soft patter and ran through the cracks in the cobblestone road which was lined on either side by thatched-roof cottages. Saint Ophelia strolled hand-in-hand with little Agana, the blood down the front of her white dress starting to diffuse out into pink in the wet fabric. Thunder rumbled the angry heavens and Ophelia looked behind. In the distance lightning flashed over the high hill that overlooked the city, illuminating the ancient castle perched atop it like a stately raven. Beneath the ominous structure an eldritch forest clutched its way up the hillside, branches like tentacles grasping at its venerable foundation.

A small contingent of knights followed behind Ophelia and Agana, their steel boots clapping as one on the wet avenue. Whenever Ophelia took Agana outside the protection of the castle King Verami always sent them as an escort, though today they were holding back further than usual. Ophelia attributed this to the rain and the fact that they all looked a little pale and miserable. Their black, lacquered armor was dripping with rain and their red capes bearing the raven crest of Valdasia were heavy and clinging to their backs. They were led by Sir Erich Spengle whose dark eyes seemed distant beneath his helmet, its crest of raven feathers matted from the rain. He kept looking over his shoulder to the castle.

“Your men all right back there, Spengle?” called Ophelia.

Sir Spengle started at her voice and turned his head from the castle to address her. “Yes, milady. The rain makes it cold in the armor, is all.”

Ophelia turned her attention back to the avenue she strolled with Agana. All the homes were shuttered up. Down the way she could see heads poke from doorways, and then they would quickly shut. A moment later the candlelight would extinguish from the windows and curtains would be thrown across them.

Agana saw this too and her lips screwed up. Her shoulders slumped and Jackson’s cold, stiff body dragged through a puddle as she held on to his one hand. “Nobody ever wants to come outside and play with me, and its such a nice day. Poor Jackson is never going to make any friends today.”

“Well, some mommies and daddies don’t let their children play in the rain.” said Ophelia. Raindrops beaded on her star-metal breastplate and dripped down the black scabbard at her side. “The rain should let up soon and then I’m sure we’ll find somebody to play with.”

Agana pouted as she walked. “I like the summer rain. It’s so warm compared to the castle.”

Ophelia squeezed Agana’s small hand in hers and smiled down at her. She watched as Agana’s eyes scanned down the street, eager to see anybody, but the streets were empty. Agana sighed. Then she seemed to catch sight of something. There was a face in the window of a cottage up ahead. The green curtain was open just a crack, and a pudgy, round head with dark hair and brown eyes stared from it. A second later the window opened further and a woman looked out. Fear painted her face as her eyes locked with Agana’s. The curtain was quickly pulled shut.

“There!” said Agana, tugging Ophelia’s arm. She ran up the street a short distance and started hopping and pointing, Jackson flapping in her hand. “There was a boy! Maybe he would like to play?”

Ophelia came up to Agana and turned her obsidian eyes to the cottage, pretending she hadn’t seen the boy. “This one? Are you sure?” She smiled.

“Yes, there in the window! There was a little fat boy!” Agana’s dark eyes looked up to Ophelia, hopeful. “Oh please, Saint Ophelia, won’t you ask if he can play! You know how I adore the little fat ones. Maybe he would like to have a tea party with me and Jackson?”

Ophelia smiled at Agana. “Sure. I’ll go ask his parents. Wait here a moment.” Ophelia turned to Sir Spengle and his men who were about a block down. She motioned to her eyes and then to Agana, and Sir Spengle nodded his recognition of the order to keep an eye on her.

Ophelia strode across the street. Her star-metal boots clanked upon the flagstone steps as she came up to the wooden door. With a gauntleted hand she banged on it. “Saint Ophelia!” she barked. “By order of your Exalted Princess, Agana Valdara, I command you to open the door and greet us!” Ophelia bent her neck and placed her ear close to the door, listening. A moment passed, and then another. No sounds from within. Ophelia scowled. She turned to face the door and hiked her leg, kicking it in.

Broken fragments of door crunched under Ophelia’s boots as she entered into the dark cottage. A woman screamed and Ophelia’s eyes turned that direction. Standing in the corner was a woman in a blue summer dress clutching a pudgy, little, dark-haired boy to her. Beside them was the boy’s father, just as dark of hair as his son, though he was more muscular than plump.

“Please,” said the mother, her voice frantic. “Please leave us. He’s our only child. You took our baby two-years ago. We’ve already paid our duty to Valdasia. Please, leave us.”

“Here’s what’s going to happen.” said Ophelia. “Your son—what’s his name?”

“Gilbert.” said the father, stepping forward. “His name is Gilbert. Please, promise—”

“Little Gilbert here is going to have a tea party with Princess Agana.” said Ophelia, talking over the man. She looked him square in the eyes as she tapped the pommel of her star-metal broadsword. “You and your wife are going to let them play, and you’re both going to remain silent and keep to yourselves.”

The man looked at his wife and nodded softly to her. Her face sank.

“Get some light in here.” said Ophelia.

The man whispered something to his wife and she set about lighting the lanterns in the house as he went to the fireplace and started stoking it with logs. Ophelia clomped across the polished, wooden floor to Gilbert and knelt beside him. He trembled as she placed an arm around his shoulders. “How old are you, Gilbert?” she asked. With a finger she wiped a tear from his eye.

“T-T-Ten.” he said, staring at the floor.

“Ten? You’re a big boy for ten-years old. Did you know that’s exactly how old your Princess is?”

Gilbert shook his head, his cheeks jiggling.

“Well, Princess Agana is ten-years old, just like you, and her favorite thing to do is to have tea parties. Wouldn’t you like to have a tea party with your Princess?”

Gilbert shook his head.

Ophelia smiled softly at him. With a finger she gently lifted his chin so that he was looking at her. “Come now, Gilbert, be a sport. How many of your friends can say that they’ve had a tea party with a real Princess? Wouldn’t that be something great to tell all your friends about?”

Gilbert hiked his shoulders.

“I’m going to bring Agana in now, and I want you to play nicely with her, okay?”

Gilbert nodded.

Ophelia patted him on the head and stood up. Now that the soft glow of lanterns filled the room, the cottage was a much warmer and cheery place. The cottage’s living room walls were all bare cobblestone hung with various paintings. There was a cozy looking couch along the far wall and a couple chairs adjacent with a small table between them. In front of the fireplace was a small, red rug and Ophelia thought it would make the perfect setting for a tea party.

She strode back to the broken door and saw Agana standing in the middle of the road. Her black hair was all matted from the rain and her white dress clung heavy and tight to her small frame. The front of it was all pink with washed-out blood and she clutched Jackson to her bosom. There was a hopeful look on her face.

Ophelia smiled. “It’s okay, Agana. Gilbert’s parents said he can play inside for a little while.”

Agana’s face brightened. “Really!” She hopped up and down and then ran to the house.

Ophelia turned her head down the road to the squadron of knights. She wasn’t happy that they had held back so far from Agana. She scanned the rooftops, and then with a disapproving gaze gave Sir Spengle a thumbs-up, the signal that the house was secure and they could wait outside.

Ophelia put her arm around Agana’s back and led her into the cottage. Gilbert was standing between his mother and father in the far corner of the living room. With a hand Ophelia motioned for Gilbert to come over.

“It’s okay, son.” said the father. The mother placed a hand to her mouth, trying to stifle her tears.

Gilbert slowly padded forward in his leather shoes.

“Agana,” said Ophelia. “This is Gilbert.”

Agana smiled. “Hi, Gilbert.”

“H-Hello, Princess Agana.” said Gilbert cautiously. He bowed. “W-W-What do you want to play?”

Agana held Jackson up by one arm and Gilbert’s face went ghost-white. “This is my baby brother Jackson. Do you want to have a tea party with us by the fire?”

Gilbert recoiled from the terrible thing dangling in her hand and looked over his shoulder. His father nodded at him as his mother buried her head in his shoulder and wept. Gilbert looked back at Agana. “S-Sure.”

“Get a teapot and some cups.” ordered Ophelia, looking at the mother.

She nodded and scurried into the kitchen.

“Come on, Gilbert!” chirped Agana. “We’re going to have so much fun!” She took his pudgy hand in hers and skipped over to the fireplace and sat down in front of it, crossing her legs on the carpet. Gilbert sat down across from her as she propped Jackson up against her belly. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“I h-had a baby b-brother, but after he was born Saint—”

“Gilbert!” hissed the father. Gilbert looked at him and the father wagged a finger in warning.

Gilbert swallowed hard. He looked back at Agana. “No.”

“That’s too bad.” said Agana, a little sad. “My brother Jackson here isn’t even a year old. Isn’t he so cute?”

Gilbert turned his eyes to the floor and nodded.

“Would you like to hold him?” Gilbert looked at her, eyes wide, and vigorously shook his head, causing his cheeks to flap. Agana’s lips puffed out into a frown. “Why not? Is there something wrong with him?”

“He’s… He’s de—”

“Gilbert!” barked the father.

The boy looked away from Agana. “I-I-I don’t want to h-hurt him, is all.”

“Why do all you boys talk like that?” asked Agana. “Always stuttering.”

Gilbert licked his lips and hiked his shoulders as he stared at the floor.

“You need to stop it. I don’t like it.”

“Here’s a pot of tea.” said the mother, bringing in a porcelain kettle upon a silver platter. There was a small honeypot along with a few teacups and some pastries on a saucer. “I had some water already boiled. You just need to let the tea steep for a moment. I… I hope it’s to your liking, my Princess.”

Agana’s brow furled as she watched the lady set the platter down between her and Gilbert. Steam rose from the kettle’s spout and filled the room with the scent of cinnamon and nutmeg. The woman stood and did a little curtsy for Agana. “I… I can pour you a cup, if you like?”

“What is that?”

The woman’s face seemed to sink as she looked down at Agana. “It’s… it’s tea, Princess.” She quickly bent over and poured a cup for Agana, her trembling hands causing the little cup to clatter against the kettle. “I-I’m sorry it’s not much. Just a spice tea. I hope it’s to your liking.” The woman set it on a saucer before Agana and then poured her son a cup.

“What is this?” said Agana, disgusted. She pushed it away. “I can’t drink this!”

The woman froze as she stood looking down at Agana. “I-I-I’m terribly sorry, Princess. I-I’ll make another kind.”

“Step aside!” ordered Ophelia, taking the mother by the arm and practically tossing her away. Ophelia grabbed the two cups of tea the woman had poured and tossed the contents across the room where it splashed on the couch. She set the empty cups back down before Agana and Gilbert. “There you go, Agana,” said Ophelia. “You make your own tea.” Ophelia patted Agana on the top of her head and then stepped away.

“Me and Jackson are so hungry.” said Agana. She looked at Gilbert and smiled. “Gilbert, would you be so kind as to pass the tea, please?”

Gilbert nodded, his cheeks bouncing. He reached for the kettle but Agana grabbed his thick wrist and brought it toward her. Gilbert flinched and pulled his arm away.

“How very rude.” said Agana. “Is that anyway to treat your guests?”

“Gilbert, pass her the tea.” said the father.

“S-Sorry.” said the boy. Once again he reached for the kettle but Agana grabbed his arm.

“Not that, silly.” she said. She brought his wrist close to her and stroked it. “This is the tea.”

Gilbert’s eyes went wide.

Agana giggled. “It won’t hurt much. Don’t worry, I’ll only pour enough for me and Jackson.”

“No!” boomed the father. “Don’t you—” Ophelia’s fist impacted the man’s face and he stumbled into the wall and slid down it until he was sitting. He looked up at her in fear, holding his broken jaw, his hand full of bloody teeth. His wife began to scream but Ophelia grabbed her around the neck, choking her.

“Not another word from either of you.” growled Ophelia, throwing her at her husband. “Let them play.”

Agana brought Gilbert’s wrist to her mouth. “Hold still,” she said. Gilbert whimpered as fangs revealed themselves from her little, red lips and sank into his flesh. Agana sucked at his wrist for a moment, blood trickling from the sides of her mouth, and then she brought his wrist over her tea cup. Gilbert clenched his eyes shut and turned his head. Crimson liquid pattered into the porcelain as she stroked his arm. “There we go.” said Agana. She licked her lips. “You fat boys make the sweetest tea.” She filled the cup to the brim and then let go of Gilbert’s arm.