Lost Rhymes for a Silent King

High Fantasy / 6800 words

PREFACE: Ladies and gentlemen, look who’s back! The one and only Count Varushka. And this time, he is being coerced into stealing a book… Wait, coerced? Varushka? How is that even possible?? Read on to find out!

They came to me while I slept. Took my cane, my hat, my glasses, my cape. This puzzles me. Why would they do this? I woke in a cage, in the back of a wagon, and all of my things were gone.

I do not sleep often, and for never too long, so this is all the more distressing. It would be easy enough to slip into a different plane, move a few paces to the right, then return to the realm of men to find myself outside the cage. Yet I hesitate. Not for very long, but hesitate I do. Because they took my belongings. The cane doubles as a weapon, but I do not require it. Some among my people think the glasses help me see into other realities, but I need them not. Nor the cape or hat. None of these add to or take away from my powers. But they are as much a part of me as my thoughts or my hands. My people would scoff at this, call me ‘sentimental’ as if it were an insult. Let them laugh, I do not care.

The more I think about it, the more I grow annoyed. How dare they take my things? Are they nothing but petty thieves? Then why the cage?

There are at least a dozen of them. Within my line of sight, I count four in the front, four in the back, and two on each side. I would be shocked if there were not more beyond. All heavily armed, of course.

No matter.

I resolve to phase out, kill them all, and retrieve my things. Perhaps I will keep one alive to question him. Yes, I think I will do this. One cannot get answers from the dead, after all. Well, that is not entirely true, but it is beyond my field of expertise—or interest.

What happens next startles me even more. I close my eyes, focus, cast my senses out into the next plane to pull myself through... And nothing. All I find is a void. As if there was nothing there. Which cannot be. There is an infinity of dimensions, all connected... Perhaps not an infinity, but it is a close enough approximation. These cannot have just disappeared. They are still there. But the access is barred.

I open my eyes and stare at my captives.

What have they done?

And how have they done it?

More importantly, who are these people?

I am now quite curious... and all the more wary.

***

Two days and two nights we traveled. They never spoke a word to me. Twice they brought me a bucket filled with blood. How could they have known what to feed me? I asked, but they turned and walked away without a word. There is a mystery here that baffles my mind. These men know things about me—things they should not know. This is no accident.

It is now the morning of the third day, and I see a castle ahead of us. Its stone towers rise to scratch the sky. A town sprawls around it, streets teeming with life. Merchants, artisans, women and men running errands, children playing... We slowly make our way through as the crowd parts before us. My anger swells as I feel so many eyes staring at me, like I am some wild animal brought for the games.

Someone will pay for this.

Preferably with their blood.

No, I think to myself, I need to keep my temper in check. I take a deep breath. I must stay cool. Be human about it. There must be some other way to resolve this matter. But first, I need more information. And so I must wait. Not for much longer, I wager, as I look at the looming castle. Our destination, it seems.

We go through the gates and stop in the courtyard. Guards pour out of the barracks. Four on each side grab metal bars I had not noticed. These run under the cage, allowing them to carry it off the wagon, then forward into the castle. Thus still I must endure this ignominy. Very well then.

With more men in front and behind, the procession leads me through halls and up stairs, until we reach the throne room. It is empty but for a handful of soldiers, and two others.

The king sits on his throne—a man with graying hair, a beard, and sharp, cold eyes that pierce right through me. The crown on his brow is made of gold, studded with jewels.

Standing to his right is a younger one, with short blonde hair and a square jaw. His stature and the way he holds himself tell me this one has seen combat. He watches me as intensely as his master.

I cross my arms and wait, staring back at them both, as the guards set the cage down. They immediately move away, beyond earshot, leaving me alone with the two men.

Despite my anger and curiosity, I have decided not to ask questions. Not yet. They have brought me here. For a reason. Meaning they need me. So I would have them speak first.

The silence is deafening. It lasts a long while as we stare at each other, unflinching.

Finally, it is the younger one who talks.

“I am Krebari Deban, Whisperer of the Court, member of the High Council of Lashareen, and First Advisor to His Majesty Radanakar the Second. You have been granted the honor of an audience with the King himself.” He glances sideways at the monarch, then back at me. “His Majesty guesses you must have questions.”

I stare at him and say not a word.

He frowns. “His Majesty requires your assistance in retrieving an item of great value. A book of rhymes. Do this and your belongings will be returned, along with your freedom. Refuse, and you will rot in our dungeons and never see your cane again.”

A book. All this for a book. It rattles me though I do my best not to show it. Still I do not speak. I want to see how far I can take this.

The man shifts uncomfortably. He looks at his sovereign again. Waits a moment. Nods. Looks at me.

“In addition to recovering your freedom—and your belongings—His Majesty will grant you a pardon for any crimes you may have committed upon our lands, and enough gold to buy you an island.”

I snort at this.

Krebari—since that is his name—looks at his king.

“He warned us gold would not sway him.”

There is a tone of reproach in the man’s voice, though Radanakar does not seem offended. There is a connection between these two that intrigues me.

The king tilts his head, pondering. He looks at his advisor, who nods again as he turns to me.

“Very well then. Tell us your price. If it is within our power to grant, it will be granted gladly.”

I unfold my arms and lean forward. Ignoring the younger one, I turn my stare to the king.

“If you need my help,” I say slowly, “you should have asked for it.” I motion to the cage around me. “Why this?”

The king holds my gaze, though it is his advisor who responds.

“His Highness had—”

“If you want my help,” I interrupt without looking at him, “I want to hear the answer from your mouth, Your Majesty.”

The monarch leans back on his throne and closes his eyes for a moment, hands trembling as he shakes his head.

“That cannot be,” says Krebari. “Our king is mute and has been for two decades. This is why His Majesty needs the book. Only this can lift the curse that was cast upon him.”

This takes me by surprise. I blink and look between the two men.

“I see. Very well.” My gaze pauses on the advisor. “I will hear your answer now.”

He shifts again and nods.

“His Highness had a dream in which our god came to him with a message. Our god told him about the book and about you. That you were the only one who could retrieve it, but that you would resist if not given proper... ah... incentive. It was our god who suggested we take your belongings, that you would not want to part with them.”

As the man speaks, unease grows within me. It is as I suspected. Someone who knows me is behind this charade. Which hints at ulterior motives. I must be very cautious.

“Does this god have a name?” I ask.

“He does.” Krebari hesitates. “His name is Athenasar.”

My heart grows cold as I stare at the man who just dug deep into my wound.

***

I have spoken before of my home—the Gleaming. A place of shadow and light, where monsters thrive and dragons breed. I ruled there once, until I was banished by the one who usurped my throne. He conspired against me with his sister, my beloved Tenella, who never truly loved me.

Rebellions do not exist in a vacuum. While two led the dance, others were involved. Chief among them Tenella’s servant and confidant, a being named Athenasar.

No wonder they know so much about me. The buckets of blood. The cage. The phasing block. Taking away my things...

If he is the god of these people, it can only mean one thing: Selindar’s sister is pulling the strings. She has found her way back home, as I knew she would, and is now concocting new plots. While I have no idea what she is up to, there is no doubt in my mind it will have disastrous consequences.

“Athenasar,” I mutter. “He was right. I will not do his bidding. I would rather take the cell. Know this, however. I will eventually find a way out and retrieve my things. That day, both of you will die by my hand.”

The king winces and glances at his advisor. The latter shifts again, looks away for a moment, then back at me.

“You are mistaken, Count.” I straighten at hearing him use my title. “Your cell will be like this cage—sealed by a spell given to us by our god. The items you so cherish are locked within a similar protective sphere. You will never see them again were you to turn us down. Perhaps you should think carefully before you make a decision you will come to regret.”

I sense the truth in his words. Athenasar would know how to make such blocks. And while a mage might find ways to penetrate them, I am no mage. Desperation threatens to overcome me. I feel cornered and it is not a pleasant feeling.

A small part of me—the part I like to think of as more human—worries about Tenella’s plans. What is her endgame? And would refusing to get the book thwart her or only slow her down?

I do not have enough information, I realize as I click my tongue.

“Why not hire a thief to do this?” I ask. “It is hardly the type of work I am good at.”

The king steeples his hands as the advisor takes one step forward.

“We have tried. But...” He hesitates. Grimaces. “All those we approached refused the job when they learned of the book’s current location.”

I quirk a brow. “Which is?”

The man briefly glances at Radanakar. “It is held by the Faenin.” When I do not react, he elaborates. “A community of fay artists. They live in a nearby forest keep. His Majesty has considered sending soldiers, but that could lead to a war with the fays, which is not desirable at this time.”

Such an understatement makes me snicker. As I had never heard of Lashareen, I suspect it is a tiny kingdom. It would be annihilated if they went to war with the fays.

“You are the only one who can do this,” the younger man insists. “Please,” he adds.

That last word worms its way into my heart; the tone in his voice stabs at my soul.

I cross my arms as I ponder on all this information and the consequences of accepting or refusing to help them.

If I accept, it would only benefit my enemies. I doubt the book would really give the king his voice back. It seems more likely that Tenella is manipulating these humans into doing her bidding.

If I refuse, I risk wasting years of my life in a dungeon. And even assuming I somehow escape, there is a strong chance I’d never retrieve my belongings. The mere thought of this makes me sick to my stomach.

Of course, I can agree, and then once free exact revenge upon these mortals. But Tenella knows as well as I do that once my word is given, I will not retract it.

Besides, I need to know what my enemies are plotting.

And thus I am left with no real choice.

I grit my teeth and nod.

“Very well,” I say. “I will get the book.”

***

It will not be easy.

Fays are not like humans. Appearances do not deceive them so easily. Nor do I look anything like them. Even if I did, I suspect they would still see my nature. Many of them can also tell when they are lied to. Which limits what I can do.

I ponder these things as I make my way through the forest.

The humans have kept my things. They promised to return them once they had the book. I feel naked and annoyed, which makes it difficult to focus.

With a grunt, I pause and sit down on a tree stump. I take a deep breath to clear my mind and close my eyes.

This moment will pass, as all moments do. It is but a fraction of a second in an ocean of time.

I open my eyes and smile. The path seems clear before me. If I cannot hide or obfuscate the truth, then I must state it plainly.

With renewed purpose, I jump to my feet and hurry through the trees.

The humans gave me directions and a map. They are not hard to follow, and soon I find the place. An ancient fortress—a keep, they call it—that stands in the middle of a clearing. Half of it seems in ruins, with broken walls and collapsed ceilings. I see no sentinels, no guards, no sentries.

There are two gates. The southern one is off its hinges and I can see a rundown courtyard through the cracks in the splintered wood. So I go to the northern one and knock.

A few minutes pass before I hear footsteps. The door creaks as it sways, and two male fays stare at me with furrowed brows.

“Yes?”

I hear the wariness in this one’s voice and see it in both their eyes.

“I am on a quest for truth,” I say.

The second, who had not spoken yet, does so now, with a startled look.

“Truth? You? Here?”

I nod. “You have books, do you not? Where else would one seek truth?”

“You are efrath. What further truth would one such as you require?”

“It is true,” I concede. “I was born a monster. But I aspire to transcend my nature, to be more human—or more fay, perhaps. I hope the wisdom in your books will show me the way.”

They look at each other in bewilderment.

“He does not lie,” argues the first.

The second hesitates before stepping aside to let me in.

“Welcome to Faenin,” he mutters.

***

They let me in, but still they are wary. I cannot blame them. They know my nature. Had I not been tainted by the time I’ve spent in the realm of men, I would have slaughtered them all—my kind does not suffer the likes of them.

No, tainted is not the right word. My soul is not corrupted, it is cleansed.

The two at the entrance take me to their leader—though perhaps I should not call him that. They only defer to him in that he is older and perhaps wiser—at least, that is what they seem to think of him. I hear some refer to him as a sage. His name is Salidilis and I wonder if he is older than me—some fays can live as long as my kind.

It would not be polite to ask, so I do not.

The ancient one takes me to the library as we speak.

“It is a strange quest you are on,” he says. “At least for one such as you.”

“I do not deny it.”

“Why?”

I frown. “Why what?”

“What set you on this course?”

“Oh.” I ponder this a moment, wondering how much I can tell him. “I was cast away from my home and have been wandering among humans for a long time. They have changed me.”

He looks at me curiously.

“Indeed. I can see it has.”

“You can?”

He nods and waves at the books on the shelves around us. “There is much knowledge to find here, though I doubt you will find the answers to your questions in these books. Still, it is a worthy quest, and I would venture that the quest itself is the purpose.”

“What does that mean?”

He shrugs. “You will understand when you understand.”

I grimace and he laughs, though he does not offer any clarification.

“Why did you settle here?” I ask.

“Why not? It is peaceful and far from the cities. We are surrounded by beauty and the sounds of nature. We are comfortable and can more easily focus on the things that matter.” He glances at me. “How long have you been away from your home?”

“Time is hard to measure for those of my kind.” I pause. “A decade, perhaps. What are these things that matter?”

He waves around at the room. “Books. Paintings. Nature. Knowledge and art. What else matters in the world? Not war, not hatred, not fear... We know none of that here. Do you miss your home?”

We reach a large table where food and drinks have been set for us and I marvel that they would feast amid books.

“I do. Someday I will return and resume my rightful place.” As I sit, I turn a thoughtful gaze upon him. “And so you have fled your kind?”

He frowns at my wording. Shakes his head. “We are not in denial, if that is what you imply. While this is, in many ways, a shelter, it does not cut us off from the world. We communicate with our people and are aware of what goes on elsewhere. Do you know what goes on among your own?”

“I wish I did, but I do not. All contact has been severed. Not by my doing.” I grab some grapes and set them on my plate. “How many books do you own?”

“Me personally?”

I shake my head and motion at the shelves around us.

“Too many to count,” he says with a snort. “Thousands. Millions, possibly. You said if you went home, you would resume your rightful place. What place would that be?”

I shift in my chair, hesitant to say too much about my previous life. To give me time to think, I grab some grapes and toss them into my mouth.

While my primary diet is blood, I can ingest many types of food. They do nothing for me, nutritionally, but it makes it easier to share a meal with a human—or, as it turns out, a fay.

I realize Salidilis is watching me and I sigh, leaning back in my chair. He smiles.

“Do not feel obliged to answer if it makes you uncomfortable.”

I stare at the ceiling for a moment, then shake my head.

“You must understand, I am not proud of who I once was and what I have done. There are things in my past... horrors... that are best left unspoken. I was in a position of power and had to make difficult calls every day. I—”

He lifts a hand. “I understand. Say no more. But I have to ask... If you’ve changed—and I know you have—why would you want to go back to that life?”

“That’s a fair question,” I say slowly.

It is a matter I have long struggled with. One I prefer not to think of. Because, in truth, my return could only come with violence. I was ousted by a usurper. At first, I was driven by rage and an unquenched thirst for revenge. But what is my excuse now? I have been among men so long, I no longer yearn for blood the way I once did. And yet... Should I accept my fate? Should I forgive what Selindar and Tenella have done to me? And assuming I do, should I never go back to the Gleaming? It is my home, is it not? But were I to return, I cannot imagine them welcoming me with open arms. Violence would ensue and blood would be spilled.

And if I am totally honest, I do yearn for such a return. Perhaps not so much for the bitter taste of revenge, but for a sense of justice.

“Is it for the people?” the fay asks softly.

I know he means well, hoping perhaps to help me find a path through my meandering thoughts, but the question startles me. I stare at him in disbelief, but also in shame as I realize that notion had never even crossed my mind. What sort of monster am I? I thought I was more human, but would not a human have placed his subjects first? Oh, I suppose not all would—if my knowledge of history is any indication—but it feels like it would be the right thing to do for anyone with a shred of decency.

On the other hand, considering the nature of the Gleaming and of those I once ruled upon, it may not be the most relevant concern.

“The people there mostly fend for themselves,” I say.

“Oh. So what do you do?”

I shrug. “My duties have more to do with... I’m not sure how to describe it. Management, I suppose. Safeguarding. Regulating. Making sure certain rules are followed and others broken.”

He looks confused. “What?”

I chuckle. “It is a strange place. I never thought of it as strange when I lived there, but now that I’ve spent time in the realm of men, I can see it for what it truly is.”

“And you still want to go back?”

I sigh and nod. “It is home.”

We eat in silence for a moment—though, to be fair, he does most of the eating. There are other fays in the room, though most are reading or writing. I see a few, further back, painting.

“You have a book of rhymes, do you not?” I ask.

He looks up from his plate. Blinks. “I would not have thought you one to value poetry... But yes, we do. Quite a few, in fact. There are many poets among us, after all. I’ve penned a few myself.”

“I was thinking of one in particular.”

“What is its title?”

I had not thought to ask for one and I am annoyed they never provided the information. How could they expect me to find it?

“I do not. But I’ve heard say that it has the power to give a mute man his voice back.”

He nods, watching me with curiosity.

“I know the one you speak of.”

“You have it then?”

“We do. Would you like to see it?”

“Yes, please.”

He hesitates, then stands and motions for me to follow.

“What is your interest in this book?” he asks as we walk.

I cannot lie to this man. Not only do I not want to, but I sense he would know I was lying. And yet, telling him the truth is not an option. I cannot imagine them letting me take the book.

“I am skeptical,” I say truthfully. “How can rhymes heal a mute?”

“You are right to be skeptical,” he says. “It cannot.”

“Then why would people claim such a thing?”

He shrugs as we make our way up a flight of stairs to reach a higher landing with more shelves. He takes the aisle on the right as he speaks.

“A spell was cast upon it eons ago. And while magic is widely used, it is still misunderstood by the masses. Give any artifact time and legends about it will flourish—most of it nonsense, of course. Some think it can heal the blind, stop a storm, make a lake dry, or even lift mountains... Ha! Lift mountains! Imagine that.” He suddenly stops and gestures at the shelf-covered wall. “Here we are! Let’s see. Where... Ah! Here it is.”

He grabs one of the thicker volumes and pulls it by the spine.

“So what does it do?” I ask.

The shelves are on one side of the aisle. On the other is a railing to prevent people from plummeting to the floor below. All along the railing is a narrow ledge at waist height covered with piles of books. Salidilis spins to face it, pushes piles aside to clear some space, and gently sets down the book of rhymes. He places a hand on its cover and smiles at me.

“The rhymes in this book are bindings that keep certain gateways closed—gateways to other worlds.” He tilts his head, squinting at me. “To keep the monsters out.”

I understand all too well what he is thinking. Such a book—if it truly does what he says—could offer me a way back home. He is testing me. Likely, he suspects I came for this reason. But he cannot be sure, for he has sensed only truth in my answers thus far.

Crossing my arms, I nod. “It is a good purpose.”

He observes me for a moment without saying a word, then flips the book open and steps back, motioning for me to approach and look at it more closely—which I do.

It is a thing of beauty. The paper itself is unusual—with vivid colors and motifs. Most of the pages are blue, but some stand out in a bloodlike red that tickles my senses. The ink is dark green, making it hard to read in some spots—though I suspect this was the point. The handwriting is cursive, artistic, with rare illustrations to enlighten the experience.

I take a step back, dreading to make any wrong moves, and turn my gaze upon my host. He is still watching me closely.

“Is this the only magic book you have?”

He blinks. Smiles and shakes his head.

“Oh no. We have plenty.” He motions to the shelves behind him without looking. “This entire section is filled with them.” He taps a random spine. “That one is about how to cure love—or, contrarily, infect others with the virus. This one is a book of illusions—it can summon any vision the reader wishes to summon.” He turns and gestures around. “There are books here about defensive and offensive spells, elemental magic, art enhancement, healing... We even have one about dreams and how to control them—to an extent.”

“Love is a virus?” I ask dubiously.

The old fay chuckles. “That is what some mages claim.”

He looks back at me, and I notice him glancing at the ledge. The book of rhymes is still there—I have not touched it. He smiles and nods.

“Come. I will show you to a room. You are welcome to stay with us as long as you wish.”

***

For a mortal mind, it is difficult to comprehend the incongruous complexities of plane layering. An infinity of dimensions that all exist in the same space, and yet the distance between them can be tremendous. One with the power to do so could travel between them and still it may take a lifetime to reach the furthest plane. Among them, the Gleaming is the furthest of all from the realm of men. Communication is easier and could happen through visions and dreams—which is how Athenasar sent his message to the mute king.

Now open a gateway and everything changes. There are natural ones, though they are rare and hard to find—it is one such I have been seeking for ever since I was banished here. And then there are those created through magic—but I am no mage, and so must settle for the former.

Whatever its nature, a gateway would open a direct door between two specific planes.

Is it because of this book I have not found such a passage yet? Has it bound all of them closed? If so, reading it may break these bonds and allow me to finally break free of my prison.

As I lie in the bed they gave me and stare at the ceiling, I realize this is most likely what Tenella hopes I will do. She knows my thirst for revenge. She knows how tempting this option would feel to me. How could I possibly resist?

If I give in, though, what would happen?

I would find my way back home, granted. But then what? The gateway would not magically close behind me. It would remain wide open. To let the monsters into the realm of men.

Can I allow this?

If it is what Tenella wants, then the answer clearly is no.

And yet, it may be my only way home...

I sit and stare through the window at the forest beyond.

This is not my world.

There is nothing here for me.

Why should I care about it? Let alone those who live here?

My people would likely slaughter, or possibly subjugate them—which may be an even worse fate.

Should I care?

Perhaps not...

And yet I do.

***

The lighting is dim, warm, comfortable. Familiar, too. I have been here before, I muse as I walk through a fog. It does not occur to me yet that there should be no fog in a hall. By the time it registers, I am in a large room with curtained walls. The drapes are a vivid red, hanging from the ceiling like flags to welcome a long-lost son.

A hum startles me. I turn my gaze to the source and see her sitting on a dais, smiling as she appraises me wistfully.

“Hello, my love. It is good to see you again.”

Thin strips of cloth criss-cross her chest and stomach, with large swaths of bare skin exposed. Her silver hair cascades down her shoulders to each side and I marvel at its length.

“Tenella,” I say coolly. “Why do you torment me in my sleep? Is it not enough that I have sent you back to the Gleaming?”

She purses her lips. “Torment? How cruel. I remember how you lingered to feel my breath against your skin. Time has changed you, Varus.”

“You forget the little matter of your betrayal.”

The woman I once loved makes a dismissive gesture. “Really, dear, you should learn to forget and forgive. I have.”

The notion that she, of all people, may have forgotten or forgiven anything at all is beyond preposterous.

I squint at her. “What do you want?”

A shrug. “To thank you, for one. For sending me home. That was very kind of you.”

“I’d have slit your throat had it been an option.”

She pouts. “Now, now, don’t be rude, it does not befit you.”

“What else?”

Tenella unfurls her legs, stands, and walks toward me. The way she sways those hips is all too familiar, sending tingles down my spine. I raise my eyes and keep them on hers, clenching my fists.

“So much anger in you,” she says with that sad tone of hers she’d use every time she wanted something from me. “Should I rub it out of your shoulders?” Her right hand moves up, reaching out.

I grab her wrist. “No. Say what you have to say and be quick about it. I have better places to be.”

She leans into me, smiling, her face so close I can smell her breath.

I let go, push her away, and take a step back.

Her pout turns into a grimace.

“Fine. Be that way. Your loss.”

She starts walking in circles around me, eyeing me with a smirk. It makes me nervous.

“Do you have the book yet?” she asks.

I cross my arms. “What do you want with it?”

“Haven’t you figured it out yet? We want you to come home, of course! Selindar has lifted the ban on you. Come back to me, my love. I miss your touch, your kisses, your—”

I lift a hand to stop her. “Enough! I don’t want to hear this. What you or your brother want does not matter to me. At least, not in the manner you suggest.”

“You would have to bow to him, of course,” she continues, “which I suspect you will have issues with.” She taps on her lips with the tip of a finger, pondering. “But even if you refuse, I’m sure he will leave you alone for my sake. Provided you agree not to get in his way. I would welcome you with open arms, you know. We could live in bliss again, as we once did.”

“While you were plotting against me, you mean?”

Her pout returns. “You are too stubborn and uncompromising, my love.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“But it is what you are to me. I never stopped loving you.”

You do not attempt to kill a person you love. Or laugh at their expanse while they are being tortured. Or condone them being cast away. Not once had she pleaded for mercy on my behalf. Not once had she tried to seek me out. Worse, she had contributed to my fall by betraying my trust.

No, this woman no longer loves me—assuming she ever did. I am no fool. She is trying to tempt me, to lure me. I can see right through her. She should know better.

“You say you want me to come back to the Gleaming... Have you forgotten, Tenella? I had an opportunity once before and gave it up so I could rip out your throat and taste your blood. I only wish it would have killed you.”

“So you no longer want to come home?”

“Oh, I do. But when I return, it’ll be on my own terms.”

Before she can say anything else, I pull myself out of the dream and sit up on my cot.

I rub my eyes and look around.

Despite my words, I remain torn.

Right now, I feel an overpowering urge to open a gateway, rush into the Gleaming, and slaughter my betrayers.

With a hiss, I jump to my feet and hurry out of the room. It is the middle of the night and the halls are empty. I remember the way, but find the door to the library locked. No matter.

I phase out—sliding into a nearby plane—, take a few steps forward, and phase back in. Now inside the library, I make for the stairs.

Once I reach the magic book section, I glance at the ledge where Salidilis had set down the volume I seek. It is gone. I turn and there it is. Someone put it back in its place.

I stare at the shelf for a moment.

Peace settles upon me as I set my mind.

I hold out my hand and grab the book.

***

I saw not a soul on my way out of the keep. The fays slept while I stole from them. To be safe, I phased out and traveled through another plane until I was far enough.

Do I feel guilt? I do. It is a new feeling for me. There was a time when such a thing would have meant nothing. But what choice had I?

I needed to take the book.

This book.

As I travel back to Lashareen, I read it. I understand how it works—there are instructions. It should not be difficult to pull off.

The guards let me in when I reach the castle. They know who I am. Making my way through the halls, I feel like everyone is staring at me. No, I chide myself. It is not because they’ve taken my things that I stand out more. I will retrieve them and leave. Once upon a time, I would have killed them all for such insolence. But I will let it go. They’ve been deceived, after all—manipulated. It is not their fault. They are only human.

I am taken to the throne room and find the same two men waiting there. Like before, the guards have stepped back to the wall, far enough that they cannot hear our conversation.

Krebari Deban, Whisperer of the Court, steps down from the dais, eyeing the book in my hands.

“You did it,” he mutters.

When he makes to take it, I move it away.

“Before I give this to you, I want my belongings back. Right now.”

He frowns. “How do I know it’s the real thing?”

I open the book and turn it so he can see the pages as I flip through them.

His eyes go wide. He claps his hands and when a guard approaches, he gives him instructions.

“Any complications?” he asks after the man has left.

“None.”

He watches me with curiosity.

“I must give you a warning,” I add. “About this god of yours. Athenasar. I know him. He is a false god and he is deceiving you. If you continue to worship and follow him, he will bring doom to your kingdom.”

Krebari turns to look at his sovereign. The king grows agitated, waving his right hand. The advisor brings his attention back to me.

“It matters little what you think. His Majesty does not expect you to understand. He dislikes your tone and would have you punished were it not for this great service you have rendered him. Be wary not to test his benevolence further.”

I snort. “I did not expect him to heed the warning, but I had to try. Now, when things go wrong—as surely they will—you cannot say you were not warned.”

“Nor can you if you persist,” he says coldly.

It is not my goal to antagonize them. In fact, it would defeat the purpose entirely. So I shrug and fall quiet.

The wait is not long. The soldier returns with my cane and glasses in one hand, the hat in the other. My cape hangs from his outstretched arm. I hand him the book and put everything back on.

I hear Krebari grunting as he walks up to the guard and snatches the volume from him. He walks toward the dais as I finish dressing up and turn to the throne.

“Now that we all have what we wanted, I shall take my leave. I hope we never meet again.”

They no longer pay attention to me. The advisor has gone up the steps and places the book in the eager hands of his monarch.

Not wanting to witness what is about to happen, I turn and hurry out of the room.

As I step out, I hear a scream followed by a string of curses.

My deception is uncovered.

“Stop him!” Krebari shouts.

I smile as I phase out and into a more peaceful plane.

What I gave them is the book of illusions. While I traveled, I used its power to change its own appearance, to make it look like what they wanted. Of course, it all fell apart when they tried to use it. But it allowed me to get my things back.

Still, I took something from the fays, and for that I am sorry. At least, it is not so dangerous as the other. I left a note for Salidilis in the room he lent me, to warn him of the king’s misguided obsession. He would do well to hide the volume where no one can ever find it.

Once again, I have denied myself for the benefit of the humans. Part of me despairs at these constant delays, while another wonders at what it means. Why do I keep placing their safety before my needs?

No matter.

I will keep looking for a way home.

And someday, I will succeed.

If you like my writing, please consider buying a copy of my novel, upgrading to a paid subscription, or making a Paypal or Ko-fi donation. As an independent author, any of these would help a lot!

Want more stories with Count Varushka? Who wouldn’t! Here are two older ones:

• The Delicate Art of Stealing Shadows (the Count tries to help a man regain his shadow)

• By the Light of a Weeping Moon (where the reader is first introduced to Tenella)

If you enjoyed this story, please feel free to forward it to your friends or to share it on social media.

And don’t forget to like by clicking the little heart below this post ;)

Thank you!

—

Text (c) 2024 by Alex S. Garcia.

Header: royalty-free stock images, edited by me.

—

Want to read more free stuff?

Sign up to The Sample for a large selection of nonfiction (and some fiction.)