The Other Me: Part 1

Part 1 The Beginning of a New Life An Average Day as Me...Just Laleanne Garcia Chapter 1 “Hello?” a voice asked; I recognized it to be John’s dad. “Hi,” I answered impatiently, “May I talk to John?” I heard some shuffling and then, “Hello?” John’s familiar voice asked. “Hey, it’s me,” I answered into the receiver. “Long time no see…it’s you, right, Lea?” he asked. (Lea’s my nickname.) “Yeah, hun.” “Hun?” he asked. “Hm?” I asked back. “No, why’d you call me hun?” he snapped. “Well, we never actually broke up—” my voice trailed off, “And since you—since I—we—” “Since your mom died, you became all bitchy, and we never broke up, but stopped going out.” The truth hurt. I cried into the phone, “Look, John, I’m running away from home tomorrow, and I just thought I’d tell you. You’re—” “Ok.” “I was going to ask you to come, but now I’m not so sure. You don’t even care. Do you know how my father treats me? He always hits me, hurts me, insults me, and the same to Gia! The both of us have fucking bruises all over us. My wrists are cut up from this depression. Scars left to haunt me with the misery I feel. If you’re such an inconsiderate jerk FINE WITH ME! Go to HELL!!!” I hung up. He called back a second later. “Lea, I’m sorry,” he said into the telephone, “My mom died too, you know.” “Whatever.” “So, where are we going?” he asked half jokingly. “Where are we going? Since when are you coming with me? Well, I’ll tell you at Mila’s Flowers tomorrow, I definitely can’t risk my dad overhearing,” I promised. “OK, bye…hun,” we laughed. “Bye,” I hung up. My name is Laleanne Garcia. I'm thirteen, and often described as "bitchy." I actually used to be quite popular, John’s girlfriend, and a "good girl," that is, until my mother died. She was like my best friend; I could tell her anything. You see, after she died, she left my dad with my little sister Giovanna, Gia for short, and me. Gia is only a baby, or at least she looks like it. Now, actually she’s just under two years old, and since out mom died in child labor, she’s lucky to have lived. I'm the one who has to take care of her, and do all of the housework, because our dad started drinking a lot, after the tragedy. He began hitting us as well as hitting on women, if you can call them women. I call them “the sluts.” He meets them at bars, and, suspiciously, their bellies grow three times their size in a couple of months. The only reason they don’t press charges, in my opinion is because they probably sleep with a different guy every night, so the don’t know who’s baby it is. My other theory is, that they’re so drunk they don’t know whom they get in bed with in the first place. Well, here are our happy family portraits: As you see, father never seemed to care for me, though mother did. I am holding Baby Gia, and the plants are between us in the second photo. I can’t stand being near him, anyways. Father has gained weight. Weight isn’t the only thing he’s gained, though; he’s also gained his violent personality. He seems to think that it’s my fault mom died, or even Gia’s. He says we stole her beauty. I’m not sure whether this is a compliment or not. If he’d said it in lightheartedness it would have been, but his tone was icy and angry. I wish he loved and cared for me, or at least Gia, but he makes it apparent that he doesn’t, and I doubt that he ever will. Then again, I’ve changed as well. I used to be a nice, kindhearted, angel-child. I was sweet as honey. I guess I’m now bitter, like a grapefruit. I try to be better, for Gia. I try to set her a good example, but it’s not always that easy, and never that simple. The only way Gia will live a good life if she learns to love nature, the woods, the air, the fresh woodsy air. Mother loved the woods, and taught me to love them as well. I remember when we would go there and pick berries together. That was until her death. My plan is going to be running away and hiding in the woods while dad is at “work.” By “work” I mean away at the bar. Well, anyways, I’ll play sick and ditch school. While I’m home, he doesn’t pay any attention to me, so, naturally, I’ll pack for our escape. Then, I’ll hide everything in my closet. When he leaves, Gia and I will be all ready to go. When he returns, we’ll be long gone, along with all the food. Now, there’s an encouraging thought. I’ll bring sleeping bags, pillows, blankets, and a tent. We’ll spend the night in the woods, and then I’ll try to build a house. I’ll also get some toys and books as well. Today, I’ll go buy seeds for flowers and vegetables, so we won’t have to leave the forest and risk being seen. I might as well bring candles and matches, too. Oh, how will I carry this? My red wagon may work for that, though it’ll look extremely strange for a girl carrying a baby to be dragging a crimson wagon. John is my only friend who’d miss me; so I’m glad he would come. Here’s a photo of us together. John’s mom took it a day before my mom died; our last happy moment. John’s mother got shot the next day, by the Ku Ling Hye gang, and it was too much death to bear. Yes, surprisingly, the girl is me, and I was that girlish. Also, you may have guessed, I used to go out with John. We never officially broke up, either; but I don’t think he’s romantically interested in me, then again, maybe. “Kid!” my dad shouted, “Hey, kid!” “Me?” I looked at him. “Yeah, you. Do you see any other kids?” I didn’t say anything, though there was Gia, though I couldn’t imagine why this madman would be yelling at her. “I’m talkin’ to you! Answer!” He screamed. “No, dad, I don’t see any other kids,” I drawled. “Exactly. Therefore, you’re the only little slut around here to do the chores!” he shrieked. Slut? Where did that come from? “Yeah, I called you a slut. You’re only thirteen, and you’re wearing a thong!” He pulled my pants down slightly and grabbed the strings on the sides, from my underwear, “Yeah, I called you a slut. You want sex, huh? Wanna fuck some guy you don’t know? Come here, then,” I could smell the scent of beer on his breath, and it smelled rancid to me. I pulled away from his grasp. He scared me when he was like this. He didn’t use to get like this. Not when mom was around. Back then; he would never do anything to put me through such pain. “Don’t talk to me like that,” I whispered, hoarsely. “What’d you say to me, whore?” the drunkard grabbed me; throwing me against the wall, and leaving me there, a crumpled, tear stained mess on the ground. I was weak and helpless, and I couldn’t see anything but black. We met the next day at Mila’s. Instead of just waiting for John, I decided to buy the seeds. I walked in and put a bunch of bags filled with seeds on the counter. “That’ll be…eleven pounds…plus tax…eleven pounds and three shillings, please,” the lady who I guessed to be Mila counted. I handed her the money, gathering up the seeds and going outside to wait for John. He was standing in front of the store, looking frustrated, but hotter than I remembered him. “You’re late,” he muttered. “Sorry, I had to buy some stuff.” “Yeah, whatever.” Then, I got angry with John. I just don’t understand him, sometimes. “What’s your problem?” I exclaimed, wanting to shake him, and not being able to think of anything better to do. “My problem?” he guffawed, “You’re so fucking selfish, wanting me to leave my life behind and live with you!” “Selfish?” I shouted back, running in the opposite direction, down the isolated street. I was about to round the corner of Bradshaw, as I felt a hand on my shoulder. “Lea, don’t go! I know you’re not selfish. I’m selfish.” I spun around, “You think?” I retorted sarcastically, “Don’t you see what that asshole I have to live with has done to me? Look at me, John. I have a huge lump on my head, my legs all bruised up,” I pulled up a pant-leg to reveal deep purple bruises, “Bloody scars. And I’m not even showing you my wrists. Either you’re with me all the way, or go home.” “All the way,” he whispered, embracing me. “Then act like you care, in the least,” I snapped, pulling away. I was getting fed up with his mixed feelings. “What’s your problem?” we asked each other at the same time. “My problem?” we shouted again in unison. Then, both of us screamed in a jumble of angry vehemence. “OK, you talk or I’m gonna!” I exclaimed, angrily. “Fine,” he mumbled, “Yesterday on the phone you acted all ditzy, and now you’re—” “Acting like you?” I burst out. “No, I was thinking something more along the lines of of, um—” “Annoyed? Pissed off? Bitter?” I asked. “Close—” I didn’t hear him just then, as I did round the corner of Bradshaw to the building. I was guessing “bitchy”. If it came to this, after a day, I can’t imagine living with John. I’d almost be better off living with my dad. I can’t do everything by myself either, though. Why did things have to be so complicated? I passed by a dumpster, and saw a crumpled up scrap of paper inside, under a decaying banana peel, so I picked up the paper when I saw writing on it. I was drawn to it; curious what it said for some reason. It was written in a foreign language, I saw, when I read it out loud: “Lumovian Trenare Meãn Arcs Histofane Derev Cleon Rido Shanae Foltivo Kanté Bion!” As I said these words, they came out in a shrill hiss. What did the chant mean? I looked at my black hair and imagined it long, without the fuchsia tips. Or did I? No. It was real. And was it my imagination or were my khakis getting even baggier? I looked down, and didn’t see khakis. It was wearing a blood red gown with gold embroidery. I even had a golden tiara made with ruby or garnet or something. I don’t know, as I’m not into jewelry, and all that stuff. I glanced at my wrists, only to see the scars disappear. Now, I did what any normal teenager would do: I screamed. “WHAT THE HELL’S GOING ON???” Just then a voice answered: “Shhh…stop yelling. My name is Shayria. I’m from Geneve—” “Is everyone in Geneve so annoying?” I muttered. “Why are you so rude? And do tell me who you are. I can’t see you well, in this lighting. Wait, there you are! Oh my! You look exactly like her! I though I was seeing…you look like…” “No, I’m Laleanne Garcia,” I grumbled, “You couldn’t possibly know me…” “How did I get here? It couldn’t have been—” she thought out loud, and I realized she was staring at the scrap of paper, “Did you—?” “No, of course not,” she mumbled to herself, “how would it have gotten here? Then again, you’re—” “What? The chant thing?” I asked hesitantly. “You know of it? Then, you’re—” “I am just Laleanne, Sherrie—” “Shayria, Lady Shayrianne of Geneve, to be exact,” then she did the last thing I’d expect anyone to do. I was startled by her declaration to be a Lady, but she then bowed to me, kissing my feet, “you’ve summoned me, Your Highness?” “Highness?” I asked, “I told you, I’m Laleanne, just Laleanne Garcia…” “Oh my! You’ve lost your memory! I’m sure I can revive it! You’re Empress Laleanna Brendaline de la Vonteré!” she exclaimed, bowing once more, then muttering, “I know this was the only way he could saver her, but Murdock actually took away her memory? He’s gone too far!” “What about Gia, though?” I asked without thinking. “What do you mean?” she asked back, cluelessly. “My baby sister!” “Oh, you’re finally gaining your senses back. Prinsesca Gwendolai Juliana de la Vonteré is in top conditions, though she’s not a baby as you believe her to be, she is a fine lady of eight,” Shayria said gleefully, and proudly. She seemed to think I ‘had my memory back.’ “Gia’s of two years, and she’s a tiny babe, her full name is Giovanna Garcia,” I said, stubbornly. I still thought this was all some silly joke. Me, royalty? Please. “Prinsesca Giovanna,” Shayria’s face softened, yet got sadder at the same time, and she seemed to be reminiscing. “Your Highness, if you mean your ‘sister’ in this world, she isn’t your sister. As for your ‘father’ and everyone else, a simple memory spell and they will forget all about you,” she tried to console me, but only making me all the more melancholy. “What if I don’t want to be Empress? What if I don’t want to go to that…place with you?” I asked, stuttering. I was frightened; too, because this girl could do anything she wanted to me, whenever she wanted to. She seemed to have magic, and a gleaming dagger poking out of her sash. “Then Rolan, Lord Rolan, your cousin gets the throne. He’s an awful leader, incase you wanted to know, and is a savage, vindictive, ornery brute. Your mother died over a year ago, and Rolan took over the throne. But, you’re the Empress of Geneve and Gustall, and the surrounding small states,” she said it all in a hoarse whisper, with grief and disgust, then with a glimmer of hope, “Don’t you see? You’re the only one who can help.” “What makes you think I’ll be any better than Rolan?” “Absolutely everything,” she replied assuredly, “You can’t possibly be worse,” she laughed. “Just what is so funny about that?” I muttered crossly. “I’ve told you how awful he is, and you shall be better because you sacrificed your childhood for your people. You’ve lived like a peasant girl. We watched you the whole time. We saw how your ‘father’ hurt you, you didn’t know it, but we saw—” “Then why didn’t you try to bring me to the palace you’re talking about?” I asked crossly, again. “They—Rolan’s Army—would’ve murdered you. Rolan wants to rule, you know, and he’ll stop at nothing—” she warned. “And he won’t now?” “Now you have magic. Upon the thirteenth year, receive thy gift—” she reciting, “Look, just follow me, you’ll get your magic and memory back.” Suddenly, I was completely silent. I did want to follow Shayria, but I was still a bit hesitant. What if this was all a big trick? Then, I realized: How can it get any worse? I’m abused, and hurt, and hated, I might as well. What do I have to lose? But Gia…? And today isn’t my birthday. That passed months ago. I decided to go with Shayria, after pondering it over. “OK, I’ll come with you,” I replied. “Good, I’m glad,” she said quietly, but merrily. “Why?” I asked plainly, “you only just met me.” “Ah,” she sighed, “Met, yes, but knew for oh so long!” “Well, whatever, get on with the spell to make me “remember”,” I ordered. “You still remember naught?” she eyed me suspiciously, “Well, OK then; Lumovian Mean Laleanna Brendaline de la Vonteré y Laleanne Garcia del London!” I just kind of stood there. I felt brainwashed, “Who am I? Who are you?” I sputtered. “Empress Laleanne Brendaline de la Vonteré—” she started. “Is that like Queen? You’re a Queen?” “No, you are,” she snapped, “One that is brainwashed. I am Lady Shayrianne of Geneve.” “How do I—? Why—? Who made me—? How’d I get brainwashed—?” I stammered again. “By me. I shall give shall give you back your memory, now: Lumovian Arcs Histofane Kanté Bion!” A strange sensation came over me. I finally felt like I belonged. I was in Geneve. Finally at Geneve Chapter 2 “Your Highness,” Shayrianne bowed. I remembered few distant shadows of my previous life. Did it exist? No, I decided. Shayria said it’s best to forget anything the spell hadn’t deleted. I was home, now, finally home. “Her Highness,” a loud, croaky voice said after the gorgeous, brass trumpets stopped fanfaring, “Empress Laleanne Brendaline de la Vonteré is back to Geneve!” I was impressed. I guessed the old man to be the herald. I smiled and waved to my subjects. The trumpets blared again, startling me. Seeing my expression, a young man smiled. He was definitely royal or noble. I could tell by the way he carried himself. “Shayrianne, um, can I just socialize with people, now?” I whispered, begging. “Whatever is your will, Your Highness,” she said back, softly. “I walked over to the boy that grinned at me. He looked even more handsome with his dashing smile, brave eyes, proud gaze, and sandy blonde hair. He was about fifteen I’m guessing, as he looked older than me. “Hi,” I said shyly, “You know who I am, so there’s no need to introduce myself.” “Who are you?” he said mockingly, with a wide smile on his face. “That question should be answered by you,” I replied. “Rolan,” he said proudly. I nearly fainted. “Well,” I stuttered, “I really should get going, now—” He grabbed my arm, “Why so soon?” he smiled at me, showing his perfect, white teeth. He pressed me against himself. I pulled away, “I’m tired. I really must be getting to bed,” I told him. “I’ll come with you, in that case,” he said, playfully. He thought it was all a big joke. He placed a slobbery kiss on my lips. “Get away!” I shrieked, “Shayrianne!” I called. “She can’t help you, she’s flirting with General Arman,” he informed me, “I don’t see why you refuse me, though. You need a King, and no better than me.” “An Emperor, you mean? I assure you, he shan’t be you,” I scolded. “Oh really? Guards! Seize her!” he ordered. Three men dressed in deep, maroon uniforms grasped me. “What’s the meaning of this???” I yelled. “Arman, keep her. Let no harm come of her. I like her,” Rolan commanded. “I don’t want to see how you treat those you hate, then,” I spat, “Do you thrust knives into them?” “Swords,” he replied, jokingly, “Look, Laleanna, you will marry me, otherwise” he snapped his fingers, and his guards brought out a kicking, bound Shayrianne, “your friend dies!” he laughed, haughtily. “You wouldn’t do that in a public place like this! And I’ll never marry you, you-you-you FIEND!” I don’t know where I learned martial arts, but I kicked and punched my way out of the guards’ grasp, as Shayrianne attempted a hex, to which I couldn’t see the results. “Foolish girl! Who are you to stop me?” Rolan guffawed. “An arrogantly brave Empress!” I yelled, “No need to ask who you are, you’re a swine!” “Guards!” he called, and another group of this time, five muscular men appeared. I let out a squeak of surprise, wondering how someone could be doing this to me at my own palace. “Rolan, how are you going to marry a dead Empress?” I asked reasonably, grabbing a dagger from the belt of a guard sprawled on the ground, making Rolan snigger. “For one thing, you wouldn’t dare kill yourself, for another, I don’t have to marry you, you twit. You die and I become Emperor,” he said proudly. I grimaced. I realized that there was nothing wrong with lying a bit here, especially since he probably was in some way as well. “How can you be so sure?” I asked placidly. “Of what?” he snapped. “That you’re heir. And you’re right, I have to protect the world from imbeciles like you, so I can’t very well kill myself, now can I?” I declared regally. “Who is heir, then?” he said too sweetly. “You’d kill them off. Each one, in order. I’m not a stupid prat like you, therefore I’ll tell not,” was my haughty reply. “I would,” he said, bluntly. “Well, I’ll marry you then.” “You shan’t,” an old, hoarse voice proclaimed. I turned my head and there was wrinkled old man, whom I took to be a wizard, Murdock, specifically. He had a long, silvery white beard, to which his hair matched. “Release—” he coughed, “Empress Laleanne.” “And if I don’t, you old croak?” Rolan asked. “Then, I’ll zap you into fairy dust,” the dignified wizard said, sharply. As he said this, I wriggled from the tight grasp of a particularly skinny guard, and kicked Rolan square inbetween the legs. “Good show, good show!” Shayrianne and Murdock clapped. I smiled. “I told you he was no good,” Shayrianne warned, once more. “Better since I gave him the love potion,” Murdock said in his raspy voice. “Love potion???” Shayrianne, Rolan, and I choked out in unison. “So Rolan wouldn’t kill Laleanne,” he explained, defending himself. I was flustered. I looked up at the deep blue sky, trying to calm myself. I wonder if I’ll be able to fly with this magic everyone says I have. Shayrianne shook me. “Your Highness! Laleanne!” “Shayrianne, just call me Laleanne, not ‘Your Highness’…” she ignored my remark. “I’m sorry if I’ve flustered you, but…it was the only way…the spell can’t be broken,” he mumbled in his croaky voice. “Poor me…I’m doomed to love a woman I cannot have…” Rolan sighed, in a taunting voice, “Now can I, Laleanna?” he practically was begging with this oblivious flirt. “Empress Laleanna…to you,” I whispered. “You have many wives. A polygamist. You keep them in cells,” Shayria spat. “You’re a swine!” I exclaimed. “A love-struck swine…” he laughed. I really dislike it when people joke around, when you’re on the verge of killing them, or having a nervous breakdown…or both. Would you like to know what else I abhor? Rolan. What a pompous, arrogant, conceited, idiotic jerk. “Shayrianne, Murdock, how do I hex that fool?” I shouted, edging at Rolan. “Your tutor, Driar, will teach you tomorrow,” Shayrianne told me. My heart sank all the way down to my toes. “Tutor?” I managed to choke out. “You’ll meet him tomorrow. There’ll be no more sulking, now, if you want to curse the Prince of Gustall,” she laid a scornful glance upon Rolan, saying his title with great disgust. I followed Shayrianne up the regal palace steps and a corkscrew stairway to my bedchamber in the tower. For a moment, I feared that Rolan would be there, waiting for me. He wasn’t. I looked up. The ceiling was extremely high. I had to crane my neck to see the extravagant chandelier. The draperies and bedspread were a shade of velvety, deep red. It wonderfully matched my dress. My favorite shade. The pillows were a regal, gold color, with fringes at the corners. My room even had a tapestry with a lion sewn into it. The bed was a four-poster, so the cover was a see through, rubious material. I loved my room, no my whole chamber. “I love it!” I exclaimed, laughing. I hugged Shayrianne, “Thank you!” She just stood awkwardly. “Don’t thank me. You should thank the tailors, and weavers, and…” “THANK YOU!!!” I shouted to no one in particular. I got dressed into a nightgown and crawled into the beautiful bed, deciding this was the most gorgeously ornamented place in the world. Shayrianne said good night and left me, to sleep. I feel asleep almost instantly, with my head in the elegant and silky pillows. Eerie dreams haunted me, though: I was flying over a strange place with tall, rectangular buildings. There were people, but they were dressed differently than I would dress. There were women in pants! I swooped down, like an eagle would swoop on its prey, and there I saw a girl. Not just any girl, though; her face was identical to mine. She had the same purple eyes, the same full lips. She was me. Her hair was so short! And the tips were somewhat inbetween purple and pink. She was with a boy. For some reason, I could not see his face. He was most certainly taller than her, with brown hair, and he was dressed like all boys there, but his face wouldn’t show to me. I didn’t know why. The girl with my face was holding a baby. I couldn’t see the baby’s face either. I knew it was a girl because she was in a pink blanket, but that’s all. They had a red wagon with them, full of stuff. The girl and boy were talking in hushed whispers. They were running away to the woods. They were ready and packed, and they were running away. I slowly followed them, as they trudged towards the forest. For some reason, they could not see me, and I followed them. The dream never ended, but I woke up, startled, to an argument. “But she’s just arrived!” Shayrianne bellowed. “You said first thing in the morning!” a man’s voice answered, angrily. “She’s sleeping, though. Oh fine, just wait for her to get ready!” “Lalee, hun, wake up…” Shayrianne coaxed. “I’m up…I’m—” I yawned, “up.” Hun? That sounded so familiar. Three women in shabby clothes entered the room. They began undressing me. “What’s the meaning of this?” I revolted. “We must dress you, Your Majesty,” a chunky, short one answered. “Violet or green?” a skinny, tall one asked. “I can dress myself,” I protested again. “Violet will go well with your eyes,” the skinny woman ignored my protests. “Violet it is,” a tiny woman clucked. I swallowed my dignity, and let them dress me. The fat one that looked like a pig, with her round pink face tied my hair back. Finally, Shayrianne came back. “Hurry, Master Driar is here!” she commanded sternly, yet in her usual kind way. I followed her to the studying room, expected to see an old man, somewhat like Murdock. There, sat a young man with a prominent chin, commanding eyes, kind lips, fixed in a frown, and soft brown hair, no older than sixteen. “Surely, this isn’t my teacher?” I murmured, so he wouldn’t hear me and be offended. “Surely, you’re not surprised?” he asked me. My jaw dropped. “How’d you—?” I stumbled, backwards, knocking over a chair. “Magic!” he laughed. I smiled. “Well, I’ll leave you two to your studies,” Shayrianne threw me an amused look and let out a sly giggle. “First, I’ll teach you to make a love potion, a simple one, that is,” he added. I groaned. “Surely, there must be someone you car for?” he asked. If I hadn’t known better I’d think he was flirting. Yeah, there’s a guy I care for, in fact, he’s right in front of me, I thought. Driar sniggered. “Just what’s so funny?” I asked, wrinkling my nose. “You,” he whispered ferociously, “You don’t need a love potion for this guy that’s right in front of you, he’s already in love.” I blushed ferociously. So, he can read minds, I thought. “Yes, ‘he’ can read minds. Be completely open with me, as at my will, I could find out your innermost secrets.” “Do you really?” I asked, smugly. “Really what?” “Love me,” I said bluntly. He ignored my question. “So, on to hexes,” he began. “You didn’t answer my question,” I reminded him. “Hexes are like curses, in which you cause harm to a wrongdoer or enemy—” he continued. “Answer me. By royal command, answer!” I ordered. “One of the most famous hexes is the Trantacula—” he talked on. “I’ll have you arrested!” I shrieked. “You won’t,” he finally answered. “No,” I said, “I don’t suppose I could.” Just then I heard Shayrianne’s animated voice coming from the hall, “Lesson’s over.” “Bye, Driar,” I said. “Yes,” he stated. “Yes what?” I interrogated. “I love you, Empress Laleanna de la Vonteré.” “You do?” Shayrianne was stunned. “What’s wrong, Shai?” “I just realized it. He—looks—like—” she stuttered, “Oh, nevermind.” “John—” I murmured, softly. He was the faceless boy in my dream. “My name is Driar, not John,” Driar said strictly. “Yes, we know,” Shayrianne informed him, “that’s the problem.” Suddenly, Shayrianne stumbled, moving back a large desk. Actually, the big wooden thing had a splinter, which snagged her dress making Shayrianne trip, and have the desk fall on top of her. It would’ve been extremely funny, but I was scared that Shai was hurt. “Are you okay?” Driar and I ran over to Shayrianne. “Yeah…yes…I think,” she answered. Her hair disheveled, and frizzy, sticking out in odd places, making her look like a tousled mess. “Good,” I said. Driar looked uneasy. I don’t think he's too fond of Shayrianne. “Now, about this John fellow—” Driar began. “Drop it,” I said, sharply. “You remember?” Shayrianne asked me, “How much?” “Remember what?” Driar said, stupidly, for what I believe to be the first time in his life. “Follow me, Laleanne,” Shai said, crisply. “Good-bye, Driar—” I began. Shayrianne pulled me away. “How much?” she demanded. “Only John” I said, sort of lying. “I should’ve known, true love can’t be changed. John and Driar are one, just as you and the old Laleanne are one. John has become Driar. You were destined to be with him,” she explained in an ominous voice. “What’s so bad about that?” I snapped. “Everything,” I heard a voice say. It was a male voice. “Rolan!” Shayrianne gasped, “That’s what’s bad about it!” I began catching on. Driar/John was in danger. “Too bad I didn’t learn hexes,” I spat. “Now, now…let’s not get aggressive,” Rolan said, apprehensively. “Afraid I’ll kick you in the groin, again?” I teased, mercilessly. He ignored my remark. “Your sister’s been obedient. The Empress can learn from her,” Rolan spoke to Shayrianne. “What’d you do to Topaz?” Shayrianne shouted, ardently, “What’d you do to my sister???” “I watched her,” he said, smirking. I knew what he meant by ‘watch her’. I couldn’t bear to hear this pervert brag about torturing poor women. “SWINE!” I socked him in the face. My hand was covered in blood. I hadn’t realized that I had struck him until I saw the blood pouring from his mouth, and couple of teeth hanging loose from his gums. “You sinful witch!” he shouted, “It’ll take daes to heal these wounds!” Except, since his mouth was messed up, it sounded more like ‘Do dinful ditch! Bit’ll take draes to deel dese boons!’ “That’s it?” I said cruelly. He deserved nothing kinder. “Maybe more,” he grumbled. I just smiled an unladylike, lopsided grin, “Well, look at the bright side. At least I can’t beat you up when you’re in the hospital wing.” “You’ll find a way,” he grimaced. “That is no way to talk to the Empress of Geneve and Gustall—” Shayrianne began. “And that is no way to talk to the Prince of Gustall, and soon to be Emperor of Geneve and Gustall and the surrounding city-states—” Rolan lectured right back at Shai. “Not soon to be, not ever to be,” I corrected, “Maybe soon to be dead imbecile, but not Emperor, I assure you. While you’re in the hospital wing, I shall make you heir no longer,” I found my comeback lovely. “And while you’re making me heir, no longer, my guards will be making you, no longer,” Rolan muttered. “They won’t kill me, I’m heavily guarded, fool,” I shouted, “and there’ll be no reason to kill me, as you won’t be heir. No need to make empty threats!” I said triumphantly. “For the fun of it,” he laughed. “You wouldn’t dare, either way,” I snickered, “you love me.” “An alligator’s love would be worth more,” Shayrianne muttered, “He has eight wives, already, and he’s only fifteen.” “Loving Sakina, young Phulan, exotic Sharma, submissive and plain Kulsum, gorgeous Kharin, cute and hot Betel, beautiful Topaz, and breathtakingly gorgeous Trishelae,” Rolan bragged, “They’ll be very glad to see me tonight—” “They must be desperate,” I whispered to Shai. She laughed out loud. “And why will they be glad to see you?” I asked him. “Well, I’ll pick one to be Wife of the Week. The Wife of the Week gets to stay in my bedchamber, and on Fridae, well…let’s just say she gets to prove herself to me,” he laughed, ruthlessly, “It was Topaz last week. Hmmm…I got to grab her huge breasts as she moaned in ecstasy.” “RUFFIAN! BARBARIAN! PERVERT!!! YOU HORNY BASTARD!!!” I shouted, deciding to follow Rolan, “MONSTER!!!” I wanted to see exactly what happened at this ceremony of his. I can send magical, invisible spies. Oh, what am I saying? Everything is magical these days. Shai knows how to conjure them. This’ll be fun. I walked to my chamber with Shai and locked the door. “It disgusts me!” Shai exclaimed, angrily. “What?” I asked, not thinking about anything other than finding out what happened. “How could he talk about my dear Topaz like that. She has always been a good girl, you know. And he treats her like some sort of a common prostitute…telling us of what he does with her in his bedchamber. Disgusting!” “It most certainly is! He deserves to be kicked until his…erm…well, you understand…is numb. Until he can no longer get pleasure from sex. Until he learns not to be a perverted bastard!!!” “Yuck! He’s such a young boy, too. Revolting! Sickening! Repulsive! Sordid! Squalid! Dirty! Distasteful! EWWW!!!!” “Shai, would you be able to send invisible guards to watch and follow Rolan? Please…” I begged my friend, “To see this little ceremony of his. If we’re lucky what he’s done may be illegal. If it’s not, I’ll make it illegal.” Shayrianne laughed, “Gioydes, you mean?” “Yeah, those…” “Well, I guess I could, haven’t done it in a while, but that’s alright. I need some entertainment, anyways,” Shayrianne told me. Then, the most peculiar thing happened. Shayrianne said a chant, making a silvery thing come out of her mouth. “Shai!” I shook my friend, but she had fainted. “Who are you?” Shayrianne inquired, in an innocent voice. “Shai!” I shook her again. “Hi, Shai! Isn’t that the most curious name?” she said. “Ah! How do I fix this? Oh my God! That was her soul!” I shrieked in shock, “Driar! Driar! DRIAR!!!” I called. I should’ve known that he wasn’t there. My tall and skinny maid, Brianna came in. “Is something the matter, Your Highness?” she asked soberly. I naturally wanted to say ‘No, Sourpuss, only I’m on the verge of a nervous breakdown, and Shayrianne’s soul is off somewhere!’ but being a mature and polite young Empress, I said, “Fetch Driar or Murdock, please!” “But—” she began. “Do it NOW! Please!” I begged, angrily. She disappeared in a poof of smoke. Murdock apparated right in front of me in a matter of seconds. “You look disappointed,” he croaked, amused. “Oh, sorry. I was—uh—just expecting—” I stopped, blushing. “Yes?” he chuckled. “No one. Here, Shayrianne’s soul has left her body—” I began. “Say no more. Mispronounced Gioyde spell?” he asked. I nodded. “Why though?” Murdock inquired. “That—” I stuttered, “is none of your business,” saying it with all the dignity I could muster, forgetting that these wizarding types could read minds, and afraid that he would take it the wrong way. “Oh, Rolan. So, you like them both?” Murdock said to me carelessly. He knew about Driar? How did he know about Driar? And Rolan. I didn’t like Rolan. Rolan was a filthy scoundrel. “No!!!” I shouted, quickly, deciding that Murdock wasn’t too great at reading minds, “Um—” I began pointing at Shayria. “Yes, I see,” the proud, wrinkled, old man said, “Well, on with it!” “Torlios!” I heard a young male voice scream. It wasn’t Murdock. “Huh? What happened?” Shayrianne’s soft voice asked. “You’re back!” I shouted, wrapping my arms around my best friend. I heard a popping noise, and Murdock disappeared into thin air. “Ah! Driar!” I said collecting myself, “It was you!” “You’re welcome,” he grinned. “Ha-ha,” I muttered sarcastically. “Oh, come on, Empress,” Driar begged, “Don’t you love me?” “Driar—I—maybe—yeah,” I said, embarrassed. “Oh, really, this is touching, Laleanna,” I heard a droll voice reply. “Empress Laleanna,” I said through gritted teeth, worried he’d do something idiotic to embarrass me and ruin my chances with Driar. “Are you this John fellow I’ve heard about?” Driar demanded. “No,” I choked out, too quickly. “Why, yes. Why?” he asked. I knew he’d do something like that. “So, this is your—” he couldn’t manage to choke out the word ‘lover.’ “No, he is Lord Rolan, whom deserves to die and go to Hell! To the world below!” I shouted, “And aren’t you supposed to be in the hospital wing?” “No, Betel and my other wives are caring for me,” he said rather smugly. “Aha! See, I hate this ass, Driar!” I shouted, passionately. “She does,” Shayria bellowed empathetically, “Look what she did to him!” “You did that?” Driar asked, “WHOA!” “Yeah,” I laughed. “Laleanna, you’ll be late to meet your sister,” Shayrianne exclaimed, gesturing for me to follow. “You shall eat breakfast together.” “You know, I liked you better when you lost your soul,” I said, following her. She chuckled to herself, and of course, with a ladylike demeanor. We walked up the flawless stone steps, and I stared at the beautiful murals of monarchs of the past and some things that I could not recognize, painted on the walls and ceilings. The hall was even more beautiful, I realized. It had extremely detailed mosaics on the floors, depicting the history of Geneve, I guessed. Also, the hall was glamorously furnished with red velvet, gold, and imported redwood benches and end tables. It was beautiful. The draperies with proud and brave creatures were gallant-looking; these animals looked to me like lions, because of their extremely powerful build. Stopping to stare, I realized that they looked familiar. Familiar from my past, I strained my memory but couldn’t decipher the relationship inbetween the two. Shayrianne pulled me away. “Come, Prinsesca Gwendolai Julianna de la Vonteré of Geneve awaits!” Shai commanded, “And she’ll have me beheaded by the guillotine, if we’re late, but we won’t be late, will we?” she ordered, more than asked. I just snorted, laughing as my voice reverberated off of the stone walls. Royalty. Nobles. So stuck up. “I don’t get these names! Princess Blah Blah from Vonteré of Geneve?” I asked trying to keep up with Shayrianne’s brisk pace. “Prinsesca Gwendolai Julianna from the Vonteré of Geneve. Vonteré is your—err—surname, so from the Vonteré family,” Shayria said, now power-walking through a door with fancy engravings on it, depicting a young girl, and I guessed we were at Gwen’s bedchamber. I asked no more questions. I tried to memorize her name, deciding that incase I failed; I could always call her Princess Gwen. Then, I entered the fanciest, most ornamented room I’d ever seen, apart from mine. The blue theme was almost more regal than mine. Only almost, though. “Hello,” a thin girl, that looked much like a shrew, shyly waved at me, in a laid-back way. Her room suited her perfectly, I thought. The silver on blue matched her shimmering gaze, and her seemingly passive personality. I shifted my eyes to Shai. She was turning red, but I wasn’t sure whether it was of embarrassment or fury, so I decided to ask. “Are you turning into a tomato?” I asked my friend, making her turn a deeper shade of burgundy. She glanced from me to Gwen. “Oh, hi,” I said, vaguely, taking a cursory look at her. The poor, loathsome girl ran out of the room, crying. Oh, honestly, what a brat! She stumbled over a delicate, expensive-looking cashmere rug, got up and kept sobbing and whimpering. “What’s wrong?” I shouted after her, trying to chase her, but the tiny thing was surprisingly fast. “You’re—my—only—family!” she stuttered, “and—you—despise—me!” she cried, “I’ll never be Empress!” she shrieked, boldly. So, this was what this whole thing was about. How spoiled is she? To throw a tantrum because she would not take my position when I was deceased was selfish and stupid. Maybe I should let her be heir, so Rolan will kill her. She is so bothersome. Then, the ugly thing wrapped her spidery arms around me, making me hug her back. I awkwardly patted her back. “I’m sorry I made you cry,” I said automatically. Maybe this foolish midget isn’t so bad, after all. All she wants is for us to be close sisters. I sat on her bouncy, silky, midnight blue divan, and patted a spot next to me, for her to sit down. I’ve never been a big fan of little children, but the brat seemed quite taken with me, so I should find a place in my heart for her. I inspected her stringy hair and knobby knees. A small place. She began picking her nose. A servant brought scrumptious baklava on a dray, for us to enjoy. “A very small place,” I murmured, to myself. “Excuse me?” Shayrianne asked me with an air of authority. “Oh, dear me! Am I going deaf? I didn’t even hear you belch!” I retorted, hating seeing my best friend sit stiff as a board in front of this little twerp. Shai turned into a strange shade of deep red, again, but Prinsesca Gwendolai giggled, spitting out chewed up baklava. “Oh, now you choose to have a sense of humor,” I muttered, placing the uneaten half of mine on a dainty serviette. The knobby-kneed, impish creature sniffled. Shai threw a sharp gaze in my direction. “Sorry,” I snapped, to Shayria, and the disgusting, lavishly dressed, disgrace for a princess. I stormed out of her chamber and down the stairs, bumping into a girl I didn’t know. Her clothes barely covered her full-figured body, and she didn’t seem the least bit apologetic. “Do you know who I am???” we both said in agitated tones. “Look, I am Betel, Wife of Rolan, Wife of the Week,” she told me, “You’re probably one of the dim-witted Empress’s Ladies. Nothing to be proud of there,” she giggled. “No, I’m the dim-witted Empress,” I retorted, half-sarcastically. I watched Betel’s rosy cheeks turn pale, and then an angry shade of firebrick red. She gasped. “Well, just stay away from Rolan, okay?” I said huffily, backing away, and then jogging in the opposite direction. “Uh…bye!” I shouted after her. Her name made sense: a sweet with narcotic properties. I mean, seriously, what a rube it takes to insult the Empress to random people, or more strangely, the Empress, herself? I walked back to my room passing the leonine tapestries. I stopped to stare. I remember sculptures similar to this animal. Why do I bother trying to remember? If I tell anyone, they’ll think I’m insane. How can I be so lonely here, just like I was…before. Loneliness. How I hate it. I walked into my bedroom chamber, and was shocked to find a silvery substance hanging in the air. “Shai!” I shouted, on instinct, at the top of my lungs, “C’mere!” I kept screaming, knowing she couldn’t hear me. Finally, Shayrianne apparated in my room. I was pleased to see my friend here, and not acting like a prune, as she did with Gwen. “Oh my God!” she laughed, “It worked!” “What?” I was clueless, out of shock, because of the silvery mist. “The Gioyde spell, of course, what else?” Shayrianne squealed. Shayria moved her hand through the misty haze, and it was like, incredible. I was in the castle of Gustall. I saw Rolan, but he couldn’t see me, for which I was grateful. I was shocked to find what he did. He made all eight girls stand in a row from tallest to shortest it looked like. The poor girls were wearing incredibly skimpy tops and skirts that covered almost nothing. The shortest one, I recognized as Betel. Rolan came up to each one and examined her, thoroughly. The girl I recognized as Topaz was second to be examined. Rolan pinched her breast and whispered something in her ear. When he came to Betel, in the end, he picked her up, placed her on his shoulder and said: “You’re the one!” She giggled slyly, and seemed very proud. I, personally was getting sick to my stomach watching them flirt, and was ready to go to bed and retire. “Goodnight, Shai,” I whispered, tiredly. “No, don’t go yet, Laleanna! Tomorrow, I’ll free Topaz. She needs to be free. I’ll puke if I must watch Rolan take away my sister’s little remaining dignity,” Shayria begged me to help as well. “Well, we’ve got a big day ahead of us, tomorrow, Shai. We’d better get some sleep,” I yawned, stepping through the silver mist, to get back to my bedchamber. I crawled into my four-poster, forgetting to change into my nightgown. Two maids came in, soon to dress me. I’ll never get used to these stupid rules. “Pink, yellow, lavender, or blue?” A maid that looked like a turkey asked me, blowing her gargantuan nose every couple of minutes. “I don’t care,” I stretched my arms out, letting out a lazy yawn, “Lavender, maybe,” I just answered, as I wasn’t in the mood to argue with them. “Lavender it is,” she obeyed, “Lucille, fetch the lavender nightgown!” she clucked. “Thanks, Lucille, and uh—” “Marionna,” the turkey-ish woman said. I noticed that she was quite beautiful, only her dress and haircut made her look like a feathered bird; well of course her nose wasn’t helpful to the beauty. “Yeah, thanks, Marionna and Lucille,” I said smiling a genuine smile, “But I’ll dress myself.” “Alright,” Marionna grinned back, “If ‘tis your wish, Empress.” I could tell she’d make a good friend. I slipped into the nightgown and hopped into the wonderfully extravagant bed, and fell asleep almost instantly, but one thought haunted me: Driar. Was he safe from Rolan? I slept a calm, dreamless sleep, and awoke early the next morning. The Escape Chapter 3 I rushed to my boudoir and changed into my most rugose and raggedy. Rushing to Shayrianne’s room, I realized I was running barefoot. Oh well. I advised Shayrianne to disguise herself as a peasant as well. Of course, my cautious friend forced me to put on a pair of simply ugly slippers. I’m glad I won’t have to be a peasant forever, since though the dress was much more comfortable as it was baggy and I didn’t have to wear a corset, the shoes were hideous. Shai put on a dress as raggedy as mine, if not more so, and we set off to the maids’ quarters. I then realized that I had no clue as to where the quarters were. “Shayrianne, where exactly are the maids’ quarters?” I asked my companion. “Uh oh. Oh my, I’ve lived here all of my life, never bothering to ask. I guess we’d better, now, then,” she explained. “So much for blending in,” I complained to myself, quietly. I then saw Marionna, walking towards my room to dress me, I predicted, and call me for my lessons. “Ma’am, excuse me,” I began, but she practically walked past me, “Hello? Mari—March over here right now!” I called, as if I said Marionna, she’d know I knew her. “Don’t talk to me like that, I’m the Empress’s personal dressing mistress,” Marionna scolded. “Well, I’m the Empress,” I almost said out of exasperation, but instead, I said “I’m sorry, but we’re new, and would like to know where the maids’ quarters are.” “Just follow me,” Marionna ordered us, sharply. I almost laughed out loud, thinking about what Marionna’s reaction would be if she’d known that she’d just addressed a command towards the Empress and a Lady, but all the same, I followed her. Shai and I walked into the quarters. I was in shock; the walls and floors were both stone, with a few rugs in various areas on the ground. The beds were tiny, and I was startled that anyone could sleep in something so small. I felt guilty, being about to rob them, but I knew I had to. Rolan’s wives had to be freed, and I wouldn’t be able to rescue them in a tiara, gown, and corset. We’d need clothes, shoes, and some other important items. Just as I was thinking I overheard a conversation: “Can you believe that idiotic new ‘Empress’? She’s run away, now.” A female voice said. “The lavish life got too hard for the poor little rich girl!” another female voice snickered. I was steaming with fury, and my eyes were filling with tears. So, the found out I was gone, but how dare they gossip such lies about me? I would’ve revealed my true identity then and there, but Shayrianne squeezed my shoulder. “Come on, Loreanne,” she told me, disguising my name. “I’ll behead them if I have the chance!” I whispered, angrily. My heart was filled with hurt. I just come here and they snub me. I wanted to help people. I didn’t want to be hated as soon as I got here. I hadn’t done anything wrong. Why do people have to be so mean? “Do what you want, but first we must deal with prior engagements,” Shayria emphasized ‘prior engagements’. I nodded my head in agreement, coming to the realization that search parties would be sent out right away, fearing that I was kidnapped or something of the sort. We’d have to rush to Gustall, immediately. I gestured for Shayrianne to follow me, before we were caught. The way she followed me was what annoyed me, though. Naturally, it was feminine, ladylike, and prissy, but not only that; it was slow. At this rate, we’d either not make it before the Gates of Gustall were closed, or Shayrianne might be recognized as being noble and not a peasant. I shuddered to think what they’d do to us; those search parties; my army, and maybe even Rolan’s. Now, there’s an encouraging though: no guards to watch out for. We’d easily pass through Rolan’s gate. We walked down many halls and finally came to a wooden door; unlike everything else in the palace it was plain, though it was humungous. I felt a rush of excitement, and my fingers tingled. Freedom was through that gate. “And where do you think you’re going?” a familiar voice addressed me. I spun around, and my heart did a flip. It was Driar. Will he recognize me? Oh God, of course he’ll recognize me. Why do the wizarding types get the ability to read minds? “Where are you going, Laleanne?” he asked me. I pressed a finger to my lips, gesturing for him to follow me. I’ll miss him too much if I don’t take him along, I decided, finally. “So, you do love me?” he pondered, “Or are you trying to escape lessons?” I again forced him to shut up, firmly placing the palm of my hand on his mouth. Once we were outside of hearing distance from the palace and whispered: “You idiot! You lovable idiot!” I was now giggling. Scolding Driar is so hard. “How’d you recognize us, Master Driar?” Shayria asked, timidly. “For one thing you, Shayrianne. Now I do because you’re the only one that calls me ‘Master Driar’…” he said, “but for another thing, come to think of it, those golden and lapis lazuli hairclips aren’t a very convincing disguise, unless you want to be caught and put in the dungeon for theft.” “Oh my!” Shayrianne exclaimed. We immediately removed the clips, and stuffed them into our bags. Shai seems uneasy, as she did after the lesson. She couldn’t have a history with Driar, but I wonder, still. “Driar, would you like to accompany us?” I invited him. I needed to figure out his connection to my past, to my memories. “No!” Shayria blurted out, rudely. “I was asking Driar,” I pointed out. Why don’t they get along? I thought. “Ever since we met, Shayrianne’s had something against me. I suppose it’s because she’s fire and I’m water; dire to her,” Driar answered, solemnly. “You wouldn’t know, would you?” Shayrianne decided, “I suppose if you want him to come—” “Shai, I don’t need your permission!” I snapped, harshly. Who was she to order me about? “I’d like to come, but,” he glared nervously at Shayrianne, “I don’t think your friend wants me to.” “Don’t worry, I don’t bite. ‘You don’t need my permission,’” Shayria said sarcastically, eying Driar. She looked like she was about to hex the both of us, so I just smiled sweetly at her and apologized, “Sorry, Shai.” It wasn’t exactly a sincere apology, but she bought it and we walked on to the gates of Gustall. We have to make it, I thought, we just have to! The Journey Chapter 4 As we walked on the city’s dirt roads, I realized how lucky I was to live in a palace. “This must be stopped! They all live so poorly!” I cried out, over the chaos and noisemaking. “Yeah, we have de Empress to thank!” a crippled old man said with scorn. “And look at me poor orphaned little girl, Giovanna,” and old lady exclaimed, flailing her wooden cane, “Poor thing ain’t eaten fer daes!” “But why?” I stammered, choking back tears. I’d failed as an Empress. Shayrianne was wrong; I’m not any better than Rolan. “The Empress feels de urge to ate more that half of what is rightly ares! We plant this food! We harvest it!” she shouted. I looked at her granddaughter, or whoever the little girl was. She was but a babe of two, and our eyes met. Where had I seen her before? Who was she? Why were her eyes so enchanting? “And there’s be more of us than dem!” the old man wheezed. “Them?” I asked. “The palace folk, lass,” the elderly woman explained, “You look like you came from dose whereabouts,” she looked at me suspiciously, but before I could protest, I heard hooves in the distance. They were coming our way. Closer. Closer. Closer. By now I could feel the dust in the air. The search party! There was no time to escape. Good thing I had an able wizard and a relatively capable governess with me. I couldn’t address him as Driar. John, maybe; yes, I’ll call him John. “John, darling—” I began. He looked at me quizzically, as if to say, ‘I’m not John, remember?’ Wait a minute; Driar can read minds. I’ll have to think it: Is there any way to get out of here? Flying, maybe? Or something of the sort. And you are John. At least when I’m trying to talk to you and certain people could be listening! “Yes, there’s a spell like that,” Driar whispered in my ear, so the townsfolk wouldn’t hear, thought I doubt they could’ve heard him even if they wanted to, as the noise level was even higher than when we had just gotten there. Just then, I heard a voice in the back of my head. IT was quite strange, what words it spoke: I’ve opened my mind to you, and you only. Repeat the spell after me; in your thoughts, only, though. Live Lumovian. Think Trenare. Breathe Bion. Speak Shanae. I obeyed Driar’s command. Well, at least I thought it was Driar. “Shanae,” I whispered. “Thank you, Laleanna,” a sinister voice said to me; of course I didn’t respond to it. It was Lord Rolan himself. He had tricked me. Just then, and seemingly with perfect timing, I had felt a light sensation, like my soul was flying. I wonder if this is how Shayrianne felt during the Gioyde spell. No, I realized, neither my soul, nor I were flying. I lifted my hand in front of my face, letting out a gasp. “I’m invisible,” I whispered. “’Tis Driar,” I heard a voice, “To the forest, follow me!” I did follow, though more suspiciously. What if it was Rolan? Rolan. I shuttered with excitement; Rolan won’t be at his palace. It’ll be impossible to apparate between such distances. Topaz was as good as saved. He won’t be able to command his army! Wait, I am invisible. The thought sunk in. I had a sudden urge to give Rolan a good kick, and maybe even play some cruel tricks on him. No time. I’ll ask Driar to teach me the invisibility spell. I walked over to the forest. I saw Driar crouching in the trees. “And Shayrianne? Are you waiting for her?” I asked, coming over. “Laleanne, why do you need to bring her? This can be time for us!” he shouted, emphasizing ‘us.’ How can he be such a fool? I can’t believe anyone could be so arrogantly selfish! “No name calling!” he joked, “and if I’m the fool, then why am I the tutor?” I pondered that for a moment, “Well, if you’re the tutor, then why did you come along?” “To tutor you!” he laughed. I put on a hurt face, “That’s the only reason?” I feinted a sob. “The only reason for what?” Shayria’s voice asked. I could now see her, emerging into the clearing. “Nothing,” Driar and I answered, hurriedly. “Alright, lovebirds,” she answered in mock seriousness. We just sat there, waiting for Rolan and the horsemen to leave. What if we didn’t make it, tonight? We’d have to spend the night in the woods. I love the woods, as I love my baby sister. Wait…baby sister, is that what I was thinking? Oh my God! Did I mean the little child, Giovanna? It couldn’t be one of my memories, could it? Giovanna. Shai said that true love couldn’t be broken, Driar is John, but who is Giovanna? Did I really have a baby sister in my previous life? How is it so important to me? Shai said it’s best to forget, everything. She was probably right, in a way, but I don’t wish to forget. “Forget what? And I’m Driar…not John! And Giovanna? You’re definitely off your rocker!” Driar exclaimed. “Would you mind not reading my thoughts?” I inquired, fuming, by now. “Alright,” he answered, “But they’re ever so interesting!” Ugh! It’s so hard to stay mad at him. And why must he read my thoughts, when I can’t read his? “Well, if you really must know, telepathy is my gift. Master Murdock taught it to me. You know, thought Shayrianne calls me ‘Master’ I am but the apprentice of Master Murdock. I’ve actually exceeded his telepathical achievements, and am also great when it comes to counter curses. I mean, Murdock vaguely knows what people are thinking, but I can read their exact words in thoughts. My master’s gift is charms, spells, and apparation. He excels at them, so I’m sure that if I asked him, he’d connect our mind streams. I’ve heard it was very complex, though.” Shayrianne and I were quiet for about five minutes after he said this. “But how will you ask him if you’re here and he’s there, and you’ll have to uncover our location?” I said much too fast, but he could hear my thoughts if not my words. “First of all, you forget once more, I—” he began explaining, before Shai interrupted him. “How could you understand even a word of what she said? Nothing made sense!” she exclaimed, making me glare at her, angrily. “As I was about to say, Shayrianne,” Driar grumbled, “I can read thoughts, remember? And he won’t tell, if I know Master Murdock…he’ll just chuckle to himself, criticize the youth of today, and maybe even help us.” “Then, hopefully you know him,” Shayrianne muttered, sarcastically, “Or we will all be doomed.” She then feinted death, falling into the muddy moss, but apparently recovered quite quickly to realize that dirt had actually dared to touch her dress. Driar and I were laughing our heads off, while poor, stickler-like Shai was dusting the dirt off her dress, with little if any success. She just managed to smear it more. “Great! Now I look like a scullery maid!” Shayria groused, holding up a side of her dirty and lupine dress. This caused another spurt of laughter to evade from Driar and myself. “Well, we’d better get going,” I recollected myself. Driar was still in the state of chaotic hilarity. In fact, I had to throw some water from the nearby pool at him. It was crisp, cold, and crystal clear as a dewdrop on a glossy maple leaf; glittering and scintillating as the diamonds of my silver ring. Oh no! I thought, as I saw the treasure on my finger, twisting it absentmindedly. “Laleanne, hun, you have gone a shade of chalk white. Are you getting a fever?” Driar asked, kindling, pressing his lips against my forehead. “How can you tell? The sun has already set,” I pointed out. “Hun, really—” Hun: this word haunts me. I do not know why. “Uh…it’s just my ring. The Ring of Mercai; I wore it, here. We’re in danger! Any wizard or mage can track it,” I yawped and yattered, while Driar trying to console me. He began caressing me, and stroking me sensually. I tried to move away, but he was relentless, so I melted into his arms. “It’s alright, Lea. I love you,” Driar replied. Then, he pressed me against himself, tighter and tighter, getting more virile by the second. “Driar, stop it,” I begged, in a muffled voice. “Stop what?” a voice asked me from far away. It wasn’t Driar holding me, it was Rolan, and he was now kissing me on my mouth; I was repulsed. “You rube! You piece of dreck!” I shouted, attempting to punch Rolan without success, “Dipshit!” “You rogue!” I found this the perfect opportunity to knee him, and did I ever! I kicked so high that I kneed him in the gut, making him fall back onto the dry leaves. “Driar?” I called. Driar came running towards me, through the moist grass, which almost looked cyan with the rising sun. Rising sun, oh no! And Shayrianne still gone. “John, set a memory spell on him, quick!” I pleaded. “Alright, but please, call me Driar. And now for the spell, say it with me: Histofane Trenare Mean Rido Arcs,” Driar commanded. “Histofane Trenare Mean Rido Arcs,” we chanted, “Histofane Trenare Mean Rido Arcs.” “What do all of these spells mean?” I whispered out loud. “History Thought Mind Ruin Affix,” Driar…erm…John told me, and then we began chanting once more. “Laleanne, you can’t do away with me that easily—” Rolan snickered. “We should’ve known! He probably has all sorts of protection against attacks!” Driar reminisced. “Indeed—” Rolan laughed, smugly, “So, I know where you are, whom with, and you have the Ring of Mercai. You know, with it you could have unknown power, and with it, I’d have ultimate control. But may I know why you’re here, besides to deliver the Ring to me?” I decided that if the spell didn’t really work, I could confuse him; play with him. Make him think it took a different effect. Fun. Driar, let’s speak soundlessly, I thought. “OK,” he mouthed. “Let’s go find Shayrianne,” I mouthed back. “Stop this foolishness, immediately!” Rolan exclaimed. “Driar, I have no choice, you look for Shai, while I pretend that I love him,” I mouthed to Driar. He made a face, and jokingly thought: why don’t I pretend that I love him and you look for Shayrianne? Reluctantly, he went to look for Shayrianne. “Finally, Rolan, some time, alone, with a real man,” I whispered, seductively, after Driar/John left. Rolan was so full of himself, he fell for my trick, immediately, “Yes, a real amazing man, Laleanna. I’ll take you places you’ve never been before!” Oh no, I thought. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. I’m not ready for this, especially not with Rolan. “I’ve never been to your palace; why don’t we go there?” I asked stupidly, hoping he’d take me there. “Alright,” he played along, “We can have some fun when we get there.” Driar, I thought, hoping he’d hear me, meet up with me at the palace. I knew I’d have to act interested, so I jumped upon Rolan, and planted a kiss upon his lips. “Oh, Laleanna, I knew you’d come through! You’re finally in love with me! How I love you!” Rolan said passionately. I almost felt sorry for the creep. Almost. He doesn’t really love me it’s the spell, I pondered. So, no need to feel sorry for him, right? “My stallion is right over there! Let us ride together!” he exclaimed. “Indeed,” I muttered, looking at his ‘stallion’. It was evidently an old mare, and looked like some sort of pack mule. I, of course, said nothing, playing stupid, again. It’s sad that he does not even know the difference between a male and female horse. He picked me up, placing me on the ma…stallion, but touching me in such a spot, and so tenderly, that I had an impulsive urge to kick him in the face. I didn’t. If I had, I’d fall straight into the mud. Instead, I’d have to pretend to like it. “Oh, Rolan,” I said, bubbling with giggles, “Not here,” I begged, ditzily. I didn’t know I had it in me. I sat on the horse. Sidesaddle. Rolan swung his muscular leg over, and grabbed onto my waist, sitting behind me. “Are they feeding you properly at the palace?” Rolan laughed, “Your waist is so thin!” I felt him begin to unbutton my dress. I could do nothing but either let him destroy my dignity, or jump off the horse. If I did that, I’d be putting myself in danger. He’d chase me down. There’d be no chance to save his wives. Driar would come looking for me, only to find Rolan and his army. I let myself fall off of the ‘stallion’. Bang. I fell hard. Rolan immediately stopped his horse, jumping down to my aid. I escaped the situation, without blowing my cover. “Come on, Laleanna,” he gently laid me down on his mare, covering my body with a blanket. He placed a light kiss on my cheek. “We’d better get to your castle,” I whispered, weakly, “I’ve ruined everything!” I cried. “You’ve ruined nothing, darling,” Rolan kindly said. After lying on a bony mare, for a journey of a couple of miles, I felt exhausted, but we were there. I saw Driar’s outline on the horizon. Shai was next to him. I laughed seeing her prim and perfectly postured figure. It was a crossroad, so it wasn’t right at the palace. He probably planned to carry me the rest of the way, I thought, disgustedly. “Rolan, let me free for a second. I must tell my old idiot boyfriend to get lost,” I laughed. I probably sound fake, I thought. I guess it hadn’t to Rolan, and he let me run to my friends. “Driar! Driar!” I called. I ran into Driar’s arms, laughing and crying at the same time. I bet I know what Rolan was now thinking: geez, she recovered quickly. “Oh, Laleanne, what happened?” Shayrianne crooned. “Oh, uh, what are you referring to? I mean, the scratches are from falling off the horse. The rest; I’ll tell you later.” I again failed to remember that Driar is a mind reader. “So, you fell off the horse, not letting Rolan undress you, risking your life to stay loyal to me?” I could tell that Driar was impressed. I smiled shyly, “Yeah, loyal, but I had to kiss him. I’m so sorry!” I cried out. “So that’s what you were trying to hide,” Driar chuckled, “Any other mysterious secrets?” He didn’t seem to expect more, but I kept on telling him; I was sobbing, “It was horrible. When lifting me onto the horse, he touched me inbetween my legs! The horrendous perverted bastard!” “Oh my! Laleanne, how can I respect you now???” Driar shouted. “You can start by apologizing for not killing Rolan on the spot,” Shayrianne lectured, in her supercilious manner, not realizing that Driar was being sarcastic. Driar squeezed my hand, “I’m sorry, hun.” He switched from his sarcastic tone, “but really, seriously, I hope you’re okay.” The Ring Chapter 5 “Where’d it go???” Shayria shrieked. “Oh my God! The Ring of Mercai is gone!” Driar yelled. “Rolan stole it!” I cried. “It’s okay, we’ll track him down. Hopefully he can’t use it,” Driar reassured me. “If he can’t use it, then why would he steal it?” I asked, logically, “Besides, he even said he knew of its power!” “Maybe it just looked expensive,” Shai encouraged me. “He doesn’t need more money, and it doesn’t look that expensive,” I retorted, “Look, I’ll get the Ring back, and you two, find his wives.” “No, better if I will. If it’s under his control, you won’t know how to regain it. You and Shayrianne, go. I expect there’d be a scandal, anyways, if I went,” Driar told me. “If you mean among Rolan’s wives—yes—I suppose that there would,” I agreed. “Well, what are we waiting for?” Shayrianne asked, “Let’s get going!” “Wait! Laleanne, I can’t leave you,” Driar exclaimed, “Let’s get the Ring back later.” “Master Driar, you know as well as I do that there will be mass destruction if we don’t stop Lord Rolan immediately,” Shai declared. “Well, uh…Murdock! The telepathical connection; should we summon Murdock?” I asked. “That would work,” Driar’s face brightened, “Or I could attempt a weak connection. I could probably connect our mind-streams, so you’d be able to sense my emotions; to know what I let you know I’m thinking.” “You really don’t need these complicated spells,” Shayrianne chuckled, “Master Driar, you can read Laleanne’s thoughts, so if she needs help, you’ll know.” “And what if Driar needs my help?” I snapped, indignantly. I wasn’t sure how I’d help him, but I wanted to know what was going on. Besides, if anything extreme, I could summon Murdock. “Do you want me to attempt the spell or not? I warn you, it can corrupt a part of your magic—” “No, Laleanne, don’t,” Shayrianne began, “If your magic is corrupted, it’ll take over your body; rot your soul!!!” “Oh, Shayrianne, you’re such a miserable, superstitious old wart,” I teased. “Laleanne, she’s right. This is our prime matter to think of and the consequences should be considered seriously.” “What other consequences are there, then?” I cocked my eyebrow. “Well, we might get so used to mind-talking that other people would never know what we were saying to eachother,” Driar reasoned. “Really?” I said so un-seriously. “Yeah, it would be cool, wouldn’t it?” Driar read my mind, “But it probably wouldn’t happen. Like I said earlier, you’ll only be able to read vague thoughts. Oh, what the heck, on with the spell!” “Ugh! Driar! No!” Shayrianne revolted. “Shut up! Laleanne’s right, you’re a still prune!” Driar replied. “Does that even make sense?” Shayrianne was puzzled. I never said that! “Yeah, but you thought it,” Driar winked, again reading my thoughts, “Now chant along with me. Shayrianne, you don’t have to, as your chanting may reverse the spell. Afterall, you’re against it. Trenare Mean Shanae Bion Arcs Trenare Mean Shanae Bion Arcs.” “Trenare Mean Shanae Bion Arcs,” I mimicked, trying to copy the exact pronunciation. I thought the spell; I spoke it; I breathed it. Driar and I were blending into one. I knew, not only how he felt, but just about everything about him; not all of it did I need to know. Our minds were connected. “You seriously think Rolan’s lucky to have eight wives?” I exclaimed. “Seven, it’ll be,” Shayrianne corrected in a cranky tone, referring to the fact that we were going to save Topaz. “Well—I—that is to say—well, I suppose they’re attractive—he’s lucky in that sense—” Driar babbled. I was appalled, and then had a sudden urge to slap him. And I’m not attractive enough? I spoke so only he could hear me; mind talk. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered. “Thanks,” I smiled; I didn’t feel lonely, anymore. I was now part of someone; connected to him. I could see what Driar meant, though, about knowing everything about eachother; too much. “And Shai, don’t you mean zero? We are going to save them all, aren’t we?” I asked, with a lot of emotion. Can I keep them? Driar joked in mind talk. I burst out laughing and Shayria threw me an icy stare. Maybe she’ll freeze to death, I mind spoke, smirking. It was Driar’s turn to laugh, but he didn’t. He was staring at a big, white building off in the distance. Earth to Driar! I exclaimed in mind talk to him. “It’s where he was born,” Shayrianne said, as if sensing my anxiety. “It looks more like a temple than a hospital,” I whispered to Shayrianne, to not disturb Driar. It was like his mind stream was blocked, even to me. He couldn’t read my thoughts, nor I his. Driar was in a trance, staring into the distance. “It is a temple,” Driar finally broke away from the daze. Driar, come on! I’ve never been to a temple! I exclaimed in mind speech, realizing he was hesitant to go. It’s not because of you I don’t want to go. That’s an air, water, and psyche temple. Shayrianne’s fire magic would be a negative force for the temple, as well as the temple for her, he again made me feel stupid. “And what am I?” I asked out loud. “Don’t mind me! I’m just here to watch you two in your stupors!” Shayria muttered, crossly. We ignored her. “You’re air. And weather. It’s a very strong power, if you know how to use it. I’m an aquatic psychic. I specialize with things connecting to the mind. You spread fire,” he laughed, “Last thing we need is more Shayriannes.” “How do you know I’m air?” I asked. And does that make me able to fly? I added secretly. Well, like I said, you shall have to tame your magic, but yes, eventually. That answers your questions. You wish to fly, he mind spoke. “Therefore I wish to be air. Therefore I choose my power!” I shouted, triumphantly, “Alright, let’s go to the temple!” “Hello?” Shayrianne exclaimed, “Weren’t you extremely keen on saving all of the wives? And the Ring?” “Well, uh—” I looked to Driar for help, and received it, “Shouldn’t we try to get the Goddess’s blessings for the kidnapping?” I flashed a grin at Driar. Yes, she is annoying! We should ditch her, I spoke to Driar. I was getting so sick of Shayrianne. We walked down the dirt road and came to a fork. One of the two roads led straight to the castle, and the other to the temple; the one of the left. We turned in our hearts’ directions, towards the white shrine. There was an orchard of what seemed to be apple trees, and a vineyard twice its size. The apples were large and golden. And the grapes, oh how I wanted to place a luscious purple grape in my mouth. They were so plump, bursting with juice. Reaching my hand out to taste one, I felt Driar’s hand grasp my wrist. No, this is the Holy Orchard and the Sacred Vineyard, Driar proclaimed in mind talk. I once again felt like a child, being reprimanded from an extra piece of chocolate. Oh come on, just one grape, I answered. And She’s just one Goddess. These grapes; you can’t just eat one. You eat one and you keep eating, Driar mind-spoke. Shayria was far, far behind. I wanted to leave her, but I couldn’t yet bring myself to do it. I felt bad for wanting to leave her, because she was one of my few friends in this god-forsaken world. I wanted to be alone with Driar, though. I felt bad. I felt like scum. Yet, I felt I needed to enjoy Driar while I still had him, because no condition is permanent. No friendship. No relationship. Driar, read her thoughts, please, I begged, again telepathically. I needed to know how she felt. Suddenly, I knew everything she was thinking. I couldn’t believe it. So, John saw us; the first spell, everything. No wonder she fears Driar: she thinks he remembers. She wants to be my friend. Well, too bad, in my opinion. She’s done everything to make me not want to be. After the temple’s blessing. After. After, I thought, everything will fall back into place. I wish I could talk to Shayrianne, but that’s okay, I can’t yet. We kept walking and neared a gold-bordered pathway, leading to a regal, white flight of stairs. It was marble. Shayrianne is going to go after the Ring, Driar mind-spoke. “How do you know? I couldn’t sense it,” I said out loud. It was a relief to finally open my mouth; let the air circulate through it. “Well, I’m not sure,” Driar said honestly, “But according to her thoughts…” “Could you sense why she dislikes you?” “No,” he answered. “I guess we could only read the thoughts we were interested in,” I thought out loud. “My theory is right then!” Driar basically jumped for joy. “What theory?” “Well, it’s not a fact, I guess: People know everything, but they only have a part of it accessible,” Driar told me, “After all, we only use 10% of our brains.” Just then, a thought struck me, once more: air, weather, and I had to be partially plant. My mother; it had to be her. Or what’s left of her. Maybe I’m part everything if I choose to be. “Very good, Laleanna,” a gaunt, yet urbane voice drawled. “Your mother; it all adds up.” How’d he know? Did I say something out loud, accidentally? It was Rolan, “What adds up, darling?” I swallowed back thee puke that would have evaded me, had I not been more cautious and closed my mouth. “Torlios Rido! Lumovian Bion!” Driar yelled at spell. Of course, the Ring of Mercai! “Shayrianne! Shai! C’mere!” I shouted to my friend, or at least my friend for now. “What is it?” Shayrianne ran up to us grouchily, with an apple in her hand. She was about to bite into it. “Shayrianne! Don’t eat that!” I knew how tempting a glimmering fruit could be. It practically beckoned for you to eat it. “Why not?” Both Rolan and Shayrianne asked. Shai narrowed her eyes at me. “Well, that’s the most beautiful apple, shouldn’t we save it for our guest?” Shayria gave me a funny look, but in the end she at least understood something was wrong with it. “Oh, of course, how rude I’ve been!” she exclaimed and then mouthed to me, “What’s the big idea?” I just pointed to my finger, until she yelled out, “The Ring!” I had to muffle her voice, by placing a hand on her mouth. I still thought Rolan had understood what ring she meant, so I added, “Driar has proposed to me,” I misinformed him, “and our ring is gone!” “And you said ‘yes’?” he asked, startled. I nodded, “I need a rich, powerful husband. He’ll do whatever I tell him.” “What does this ring look like?” he asked; I was making him suspicious that he had the wrong ring. Proposed? Driar questioned me, in mind-talk. I could tell he was amused, and I’m not an obedient little puppy! It’s the first thing that I could think of, I mind-spoke back, irately. “Why are you blushing, Laleanne?” Shayria asked, stiffly. I ignored her, “It’s silver, with a diamond.” Rolan held up the Ring, “This?” he asked, not knowing if it truly was the Ring of Mercai any longer. “Why yes!” I exclaimed. The beautiful ring scintillated in the sun. Its brilliant silver hue beautifully complemented the gleaming diamond. The diamond seemed to hold the wisdom and power of the ages. I was in awe. “It’s meant to look like the Ring of Mercai!” Shayrianne blurted out, “An exact replica.” Rolan narrowed his eyes, “Oh really? Then why’d your boyfriend say that fancy spell?” Really, Rolan is no mage. In fact, I’ll bet he doesn’t know anything except the spell to get into people’s heads and the summoning spell. Then again, it’s more than I know. “Don’t you know? It’s a simple retrieval spell!” I finally answered. “Then why didn’t it retrieve?” Rolan smirked. “I do not know,” I mumbled, Why didn’t it? I mind-spoke to Driar. Because it’s not a retrieval spell, he said bluntly in mind-talk, Undo Ruin Live Breathe, he just had to spell it out, like to a little child. Then again, maybe I was compared to my friends. I felt so small. Driar put his hand on mine, sympathetically. I hate it when people feel sorry for me! No privacy! I can’t even think to myself. There is no myself! “Give me the Ring, Rolan,” I said more bravely than I felt. “Why?” he said. Was he teasing me? “Because it’s mine!” I yelled, like a bratty, whimpering, five-year-old. Why is everyone stealing from me? My Ring. My thoughts. My life! Driar, instinctively and for once without thinking lunged at Rolan, with a sword from his sheath, that I didn’t even notice he had. At first, I thought Driar was going to kill him, but instead he grabbed Rolan by the scruff of his neck, and pointed the blade at him. “Give Laleanne the Ring!” Driar shouted. “But, I can’t. Laleanna is way over there—” Rolan sniveled. You couldn’t imagine the satisfaction I felt, seeing Rolan cower in fear. “What’d you say?” Driar shouted again, the tip of his sword touching Rolan’s perspiring neck. “Here you go,” The coward shrunk back, but I knew what he was thinking: I’ll get them for this. I doubt it. Can’t he apparate? I thought, since he couldn’t disappear when Driar attacked. No, Driar answered in mind-language, Or at least, not on his own. “Shai, please take the Ring to a safe place. It looks expensive. And it’s powerful. It’s better not to have it with us,” I requested, “And meet us at Gustall’s Palace in a Zebendae.” “It is expens—” Shayrianne began. Driar gaped at her, and I glared in her direction, hoping she could take a hint. She now appeared flustered. “Fine,” she muttered, indignantly, “G’bye, Laleanne, bye Master Driar, not-so-good bye, Your Not-so-Highness. See you in seven daes.” The Temple Chapter 6 At her remarks to Rolan, I giggled, exuberantly, despite myself. Driar was chuckling, as well; Rolan was leering at us. “Prince—” I giggled boisterously again, “Prince Rolan, I’d suggest you leave as well, before Driar here gets angry with you,” I commanded, sternly. “I’m on my way to the temple,” he grimaced at us. “Is this peasant giving you trouble, Sire?” a common officer asked. “Oh no, Officer,” I said, biting my tongue, and bowing my head, “I am to wait outside the temple, while Master Driar rests, inside. We’re on our way there—” I was starting to babble. The officer almost slapped me, but Driar stopped him, “Injure my maid, and I’ll personally see to it that you are arrested.” “She has no right to speak to us like equals—” the guard began, not recognizing our charade. “She is a servant, not a slave, Officer. I shall decide her rights, not you,” Driar said in a commanding tone, “If I see it fit, I’ll see to it that she’s punished.” I had no idea Driar had this kind of power. Well, I do, Driar mind-spoke, grinning, kind of. He thinks I’m a Master. I’m a highly advanced Apprentice, so that’s close enough, I suppose. How can he be so confident? And besides, his ego doesn’t need any more boosting. “Oh, and Officer, Empress Laleanna de la Vonteré sends a message that she wishes to see Lord Rolan at the palace,” Driar proclaimed; his new idea to dispose of Rolan. “Whatever for—?” Rolan began. I groaned inwardly, knowing what he was going to say. Let him, I have a plan. Afterall, I have plenty of money, and if I have to resort to bribery, I will. Besides not everyone knows I’ve been ‘kidnapped.’ “I know naught,” Driar interrupted him, delaying the question. “What I’m trying to say, is what’s the point of going to see the Empress, when for one thing she’s run away,” Rolan said. Driar!!! I mind-shouted. Slipped my mind, sorry, hun. Again this word! “And two, why go to the castle, when she’s right in front of me?” The Officer looked puzzled, “You mean to say, Your Highness, that this peasant is the Empress? You must have taken a fall to your head! Would you like me to take you home?” The officer asked, courteously. “Fall to the head???” Rolan laughed, “I swear she’s Laleanna!” It’d be easier to just admit it, but I won’t yet. “You’re right! The purple eyes! Only Royal Vonteré’s have them!” the Officer shrunk to his knees, “Forgive me for my rudeness and insolence, Your Royal Majesty!” I have more power, I teased Driar in mind-talk. “Quite alright,” I’d just realized how noticeable my violet eyes were. Then, his features changed, as he realized something. “There’s reward money,” he murmured, to himself. I sighed. So much for last resort: bribery was my only choice. “Take Rolan back home and tell no one what you’ve seen. Give Master Murdock a message from me, to complete a memory charm on Rolan. And most of all, tell no one of seeing me, except Murdock,” I sighed once more, “And I’ll pay you twice the reward money.” “Your Highness,” he again dropped to his knees, scabby things, now kissing my feet, “Such an honor to serve you!” “Oh, and finally, tell no one of our whereabouts,” I begged, “No matter what they offer you, I’ll give you more. If not in money, then in fame, glory, and titles.” “Of course! Anything for you,” he stuttered, and Driar knocked Rolan out with the pommel of his sword. The officer dragged Rolan, and trudged into the village. I suppose he’ll find a cart, unless he gets a heart attack, to ‘all this honor.’ Driar burst out laughing. “Are my thoughts that amusing?” I inquired, sternly, yet merrily. “Oh yes,” Driar smiled back a simply dashing smile, but then his eyes changed and his face contorted a bit. What’s wrong? I mind-spoke, seeing his distress. What’s the problem with me calling you ‘hun?’ He asked in mind-talk. So, he read that thought, too. Well, it has to do with my past. A memory. You see, John called me that, I answered in mind-language. Eureka! I thought, I’d just realized it: John called me hun. Everything leads back to John. He’s all I remember. Did I love him? And Giovanna, but she didn’t seem as important. “John? Do you love him?” Driar inquired. “Driar, you are him. I love you, so I must love him.” “Alright, that’s good enough for me,” Driar smiled a strained grin. “Driar, I swear, you’re the only one I love!” I whispered, ferociously embracing him. He hugged me in return. It was a nice hug; warm. I could smell his musky scent. I could feel hi soft skin; his strong, muscular arms caressing me. By now, I could even taste his deliciously succulent lips on mine. This was very different from Rolan’s kisses. This was a two-sided romance. It felt good, soft, not forced. I never wanted it to end, but Driar finally let go. We were both red as ripe strawberries, and Driar was smiling at me: his big, bashful grin. He looked cute, boyish, and giddy. The both of us were breathless. “That was fun, huh?” his boyish grin changed into a devilish one. “How can you mock the most magical thing that’s happened to me since ever?” I pouted. He just patted my back, awkwardly. I just don’t understand him! Honestly! “Read my mind then,” he smiled, apologetically. So, here are his thoughts, and did they ever surprise me: Laleanne is the most wonderful thing that’s ever happened to me. I wish we always got along. I never want to fight with her. Why does it always end that way? “Driar, I only get mad because I care. And I only care because I love you.” “Yes, well,” Driar said stiffly, “Let’s get to the Temple of Annoulia, then.” I could tell he was still sheepish about and not used to having to share his thoughts. Then again, I’ve never liked it either. “Alright, let’s go,” I assumed Annoulia was the name of the Goddess. “It is.” “What is?” I asked Driar. “Her name,” he answered. “Whose name?” “Her name. The Goddess’s name. Annoulia’s name,” he was getting irritated. “Oh,” was all I could say. We walked on through the Gardens, and finally entered the great, expansive gateway. I held my breath as we entered. It was amazing. The stained glass windows were so colorful, and the sunlight shone through them, just so, to illuminate the entire temple. There were also murals all over the ceiling and they were preposterous. They were of a girl; a woman with pale periwinkle eyes, and light golden blonde hair, that seemed to radiate the sun. Women don’t have blonde hair. “It’s not preposterous!” Driar shouted, as his bellow reverberated off the clean, white-washed walls, “She’s the Goddess,” he lowered his tone, “Her hair symbolizes her dedication to Light and White Magic.” “What’s not preposterous?” a chunky woman in a pale cerulean habit asked. Her element must’ve been water, judging by the color and she must’ve been a Temple Mistress. “Nana!” Driar exclaimed, his eyes lighting up, and wrapped his arms around the woman and kissed her gray head. She smiled, her rosy cheeks getting redder, and her eyes glimmering, “And who’s this?” she asked, pointing at me. “Oh yes, you’re not yet acquainted. This is Mistress Atartha. She helped my mother when she was pregnant with me.” The woman simply glowed. At the mention of the word ‘pregnant,’ I almost shuttered. I hate these memories! They’ll drive me insane one day. What does pregnancy have to do with my memories? “How do you do?” she said impatiently, not expecting an answer. “Oh, right. This is my friend Laleanne,” Driar and I waited for her reaction. I was somewhat resentful to being introduced as a friend, but I didn’t say anything. “Oh my Lord! What element are you, Your Highness?” she asked with a dreamy look, and then, like the officer looked at me sharply, “You’re a runaway!” “Shhh!” Driar whispered, “Yes, she is, and don’t tell.” “My element is air, Mistress Atartha. Pleased to meet you,” I said, urbanely. “As am I.” I don’t see why Driar thinks Shai wouldn’t get along with these temple folk. She’s as prude as any of them, if not more so. “You think she’s annoying?” Driar asked out loud. Any second now, they’d be analyzing my thoughts. Superb, simply superb. Polite, Driar. Prude is urbanity to the state of annoyingness. “Annoyingness?” Driar puzzled. “Driar, have you forgotten all I’ve taught you of proper speech?” Atartha seemed appalled, yet exuberant at the same time; like a bubbling brook. I’m so confused! It just struck me that Driar couldn’t be John. Or maybe it’s Driar’s brain, but John’s soul and somehow they’re both identical? No, that’s not right! A parallel universe. Maybe the old me still exists, like they switch brains or something, but the souls and bodies stay. And maybe the brain in my old body is as confused as I am. Laleanne, this is beyond my area of expertise, Driar mind-spoke, telepathically. Was I thinking to you? I snapped back in our secret mind-language. I don’t know, he smirked, were you? I glared at him, and gave his the look. He ignored me and began talking to Atartha once again. “Can we stay here for a couple of daes, that is, if you have spare rooms, in the Guest Quarters?” Driar begged. She agreed to take us to the rooms. She led us through the temple, with its lancet arched and gold-framed windows. Yes, it was beautiful here. We walked outside the courtyard, and that’s when I realized there was a whole village for the temple folk, enclosed by a brownstone wall, which was to protect the Masters and Mistresses from disease, war and other plagues. The houses were all identical: white clay with stone base and red roofs. Well, not exactly red, more like a rust color. They looked two story, and all seemed to be facing the same way: east, to rise with the sun. Atartha led us to a building that was unlike the rest. In fact, it stood out like a sore thumb. Though it was painted with the same color scheme, it had four towers sticking out. Ivy vines were encircling the towers, wrapping around them. Yes, it was beautiful. “Here we are,” Atartha grinned, “Not your usual accommodations, Empress Laleanna, but I hope our finest room in the Guest Quarters is suitable.” “Oh, yes,” I murmured, my mind drifting. I hate it when people treat me specially, just because I’m royalty. Though I hate it when people say cruel dreck about me, it’s better than deadly sweet words. At least then they’re honest. “Atartha’s honest,” Driar blurted out loud. “Of course I am, child,” Atartha answered. I laughed. She must think Driar has gone mad. Driar, you should keep your answers to my thoughts in our mind streams, not suddenly say something, I smiled gleefully, it looks quite odd. “You like it, then?” Atartha addressed me. “Like what?” I asked, absentmindedly. “Well, you’re smiling, you must like it here,” Atartha declared. “Oh, yes, I love it. It’s beautiful,” I replied, “So unique,” I noted with an undetectable hint of sarcasm in my voice. In a way, I added mentally. Driar laughed out loud. “What boy? Home isn’t good enough for you? You’re saying it’s not beautiful?” Atartha argued, defensively. She was getting agitated with Driar. Then again, even I was getting annoyed, though actually, the whole scenario was extremely funny. “No…” Driar stuttered, “I mean, it’s beautiful, and no, it’s definitely good enough!” “No need to reassure me,” Atartha muttered, haughtily. “But it is,” Driar began. “Allow me,” I said, mimicking graciousness, “Mistress Atartha, you see, Driar and I can communicate telepathically. Not many people know, so I’d—we’d” I corrected myself, glancing at Driar, “appreciate it if you didn’t mention it.” “Oh, of course. So, you know some magic, Your Majesty?” she again switched to her honey-tongued tone. “Well, Driar is my—” I started. Driar clamped my mouth shut. Don’t say it, or I’ll never hear the end of it, Driar mind-spoke. I giggled out loud, but Atartha didn’t say anything. “What?” she finally asked. “Oh, no, Driar just said something amusing in mind-speech—” I didn’t get to finish the sentence. “No, I mean: Driar is your what?” she replied. “Peer. We study together,” I finished. Driar nodded, appreciatively, which could be mistaken for a nod of agreement. “Wouldn’t Driar be in a different class? He’s older and a different element.” “Yes, well, I meant to say that we have the same teacher.” “And who is that?” Atartha wanted to know. “Master Murdock,” Driar and I said, at the same time. “Oh, yes, of course. He’s the Court Wizard, isn’t he?” she nodded, approvingly, “He is very talented.” “Oh yes, Master Murdock can—” I know Driar would talk for hours of his idol if Atartha and I let him, so I interjected. “I don’t know much of magic yet, though,” I confessed. “Then how do you know your magic is air?” she looked puzzled. I pointed at Driar. “Oh, delightful!” she exclaimed. “Driar is a pretty good mage, then?” she asked. “Pretty good?” Driar shouted, indignantly. “Aren’t you modest?” I snapped, sarcastically. Laleanne, make me look good in front of her, Driar entreated, telepathically. Why? I mind-spoke back, but realizing it was important to him, I apologized. “Well, he is actually. He’s exceeded Master Murdock’s telepathical achievements,” Driar fed me the words, as I spoke them. “Really?” Atartha cocked an eyebrow, disbelievingly, in astonishment. “Yes. I can only hope to reach his level. In fact, he conceived this spell,” I smiled, despite my hatred for this honey-tongue of mine. “The spell that connected your mind-streams?” “Yes,” Driar answered Atartha. She looked impressed. “Well then, children, let me take you to your rooms. Empress Laleanna, you will be sleeping in the towers with the lancet arched window, and Driar, you in the one with the closed window,” Atartha commanded. I thought that this was a bit rude. Separate towers. I thanked her, anyways, and explained that she could go back to work, and Driar would take me to my chamber. She finally agreed to my plea. The two of us, Driar and I climbed up the corkscrew stairway to my room. The stairs were wooden planks, unlike the palace’s, I observed. When we entered through a plain wooden door, Driar sat down on my regular, not four-poster bed, and patted a spot for me to sit down. “Do you know who lived in this very room?” he asked. “No,” I replied. And so, Driar told me a story very much like one I’d heard in my previous life. There was a young princess, named Fira locked up in this tower. An evil witch named Shatelai took her from her home in Duval. She grew out her long red locks to be as long as this tower is tall and up climbed a young knight. Story says he took her away and far they galloped on his steed into the sunset. Valiant and swooning, I found these tales of romance and chivalry. “Is it true?” I asked. “Very. I knew her,” Driar answered. “No?” I remarked, enthusiastically. “Yes. She was a free spirit. Wanting adventure. She should have been more careful.” Then, reading my thoughts, he said, “Fire magic,” and sighed. “But, Shai; she’s so different,” I murmured, softly. “Yes, because she knows the consequences. Her fire magic is tamed. She is a good sorceress. She has tamed her spirit.” “She brought me to Geneve, with magic.” “Of course, Laleanne,” he smiled knowingly, as if to say ‘Don’t you know anything?’ “That is a spell that switches souls. Whoever saw the spell in action, or whomever you cared deeply for follows your soul. Those who saw the spell are cursed with confusion. They remember both worlds.” “Then, you must try to remember. Shai said that you were,” I coughed, “Erm, John was watching the spell in action. So, you must remember what London was like!” London? I asked myself. How can I so spontaneously remember things? “Laleanne, I should get to my room, now. I was born there, you know,” he walked off, blowing me a kiss, trying to act casually. What is he hiding? I asked myself. Does he in fact remember? Does he fear it? The memories. Ah, the cruel memories. The information was open to me, but do I really want to read it? I’ll just try to figure out the overall feel for the situation. “Driar, wait!” I called. “What is it?” “I feel the same way. I’m confused about my past, too. Maybe if we put our minds together we can figure it out,” I explained. I thought I saw a trace of a smile play across his lips, on his melancholy face, and he finally smirked, “Our minds are together.” This made me laugh, “Fine, but we have to talk more and read thoughts less,” I told him. “I knew this would happen,” he groaned, “I told you. We got too used to mind-speech.” “Did you? Are you a clairvoyant?” I asked, honestly, pondering the idea, though I was being sarcastic. “Well, yes, in a way, but that had nothing to do with my being a clairvoyant.” “Okay. Do you know anything about the whole situation?” I hoped that he’d know. “No,” he said, “All I know is that I don’t know why it matters!” he snapped at me. “It matters because my former body’s at stake! Yours is at stake! And a girl could be just as confused as I am. A boy could be as confused as you,” I shouted, “And you’re telling me you don’t care?” “Yup,” Driar bluntly rejected everything I’d said, “You’re here. I’m here. Only the minds got switched. What’s it matter? Besides, they’re together too! Let them figure it out if they care.” I marched off to my room. What a pompous jerk! And selfish! I wish I could just not care, but I do. Fannacalia Chapter 7 A shrill howl pierced my thoughts; actually it was more of a shriek, making me cringe. “Laleanne, do you hear that?” Driar asked me in a regular tone. “How could anyone not? I think everything within lengths of this place could hear it!” I yelled over the wails, surprised I could hear him. “Stop yelling!” Driar exclaimed, “It’s just a moan!” Help me! HELP!!! PPUHHLEEASE!!! It yelled. “What’s wrong?” a tall, gangling witch entered the room. “Don’t you hear the screams?” I shouted. “Only yours,” she glared at me, “Say, you look awfully like—” “Empress Laleanna!” Atartha rushed in. “Why yes! Exactly what I was thinking. I was just about to say how much this girl looked like Empress Laleanna! So it is her??? Wow! Wow! Wow! The real Empress…would you imagine?” the towering woman literally squealed with delight. “Hush, Mistress Moonflower. What is the commotion, Your Majesty?” she asked. “Can’t you hear it?” I asked. “What?” they both asked. “The cries!” I exclaimed. “No,” their hushed murmurs broke out. Driar was excited, I could tell. “Don’t you see, Laleanne?” he asked, “Someone…something…is calling you, telepathically,” he beamed, “That is why I can only hear it faintly, and no one else can hear it at all.” The two sorceresses began muttering, once more. “Silence!” I shouted. “Atartha, work a memory charm on Moonflower,” Driar whispered in the stout woman’s ear. She nodded. Driar gestured for me to follow him. I grabbed my cloak on my way out. Passing rolling green hills and fields of wildflowers, we finally came to a small run down structure. “The stables,” Driar said, softly. We rushed in and Driar opened a stall, taking out his valiant steed; a chestnut colored mule. “Driar!” I loudly whispered, “Isn’t this stealing?” I asked him in a hushed tone. We moved on to another stall, closing the previous one. This one contained a saddled, rosy brown mare. This reminded me of the whole Rolan fiasco. Oh, bother. What craziness. We mounted the horse, still a word unsaid, and finally as we were outside once more, Driar said: “No, it’s borrowing. From now on, only mind-talk,” he whispered. “But I can’t hear it; only the howls.” “Shhh…tell me which way to go. Let the screams guide you.” My grip around his waist tightened, as we left the enclosed temple area, and rode towards the forest. I could feel his ab muscles flex and relax, with each breath he took. Sure, I liked the woods, but fear is what I felt, above all. Fear of what the shouts were coming from. Fear of why they were coming from it. I wonder what ‘it’ is? I fear that, too. “They sound human,” Driar said in a hushed tone, “The wails, I mean.” “Yes, but couldn’t it be anything alive?” I murmured back. “Anything can contact you, but the telepathic voice contacting you sounds human.” “I thought you said you didn’t hear it.” “I said I barely heard it,” he muttered. The rest of the way we rode almost silently; apart from the strident cries only we heard; and me, whispering directions for Driar to guide his ‘borrowed’ mule. It was almost sunset. We had to make it, thought! We just had to! We were getting closer, I realized, as we passed more and more oaks, pines, maples, or whatever assortments of trees grew here. Mostly evergreens, emerging from the ground like massive green porcupines. Rarely did we see a leafy tree. “Driar, we’re here,” I exclaimed, but still whispering. “How do you know?” I just pointed at the little girl, sitting on the patch of moss, crying. The thing about her appearance that shocked me was her almost white blonde hair. Platinum, I think it was. Women only have black or brown, and rarely red hair: never blonde. We walked over, towards her, unsure of what to say. ‘Is something wrong?’ would sound stupid, ‘What’s wrong?’ would sound indifferent and ‘Who are you?’ would sound off the subject and completely irrelevant. I decided to sit down next to her, and Driar followed my lead. I squeezed her hand. “Who…who are you?” she sniffled, thrusting her jaw forward. “Laleanne, and he’s Driar.” I almost said ‘Empress Laleanna’, but I didn’t, in case it would intimidate her. “You called us?” Driar seemed impressed. I playfully pushed him aside. Of course she called us, you dolt, I mind-spoke, with a hint of amusement. “Are you here to help me?” she made a face, “Or are you two his men?” “His?” I was puzzled. “Rolan. He knows of my powers, and wants to steal them. Except, he can’t. I won’t let him. My village won’t let him.” “Uh, sure we’ll help you,” I hugged her, and then nudged Driar. “Yeah, we will,” he said, “And what powers?” “I suppose you want me to explain it all, don’t you? It’s much easier telepathically, really. But, I suppose you won’t be able to speak back in the same way, so the whole point is lost—” she began. “Whoa, whoa! Easy there! Driar and I have connected mind-streams, and he created the link. He’s a very talented psychic,” I explained to the young girl, “And start with your name.” “I’m sure he’s very talented,” she guffawed, sarcastically. “How old are you, girl?” Driar snapped at her. I shoved him again. “Well, how come—?” I cut him off. “My name is Fannacalia. You may call me Cala. I’m eleven one, fifty-four, forty-six, thirty, nineteen, and many other ages. You see; I am what holds the whole village of Duval together. Whatever happens to me happens to them. It’s as if I’m a mirror. I reflect all of their magical powers and achievements, and all their grievances, and if I die, they will as well. I was the one chosen for this. I am the Chosen One.” Duval: isn’t that where the Princess Fira Driar speaks of came from? I wondered to myself. “Yes,” she answered. I just assumed she’d read my thoughts. “That’s a great burden for a child!” Driar exclaimed, which offended her. “Look, Dree-air,” she mispronounced his name, “I’ve carried this ‘burden’ since I was born. Besides, I am older than you when it comes to mental capacity. I have the wisdom of the ages,” I thought this was overdoing it, but she kept talking, “I can see the exact past, present, and future. I can read your thoughts. I can move things with a mere glance at them—” “You’re telekinetic?” Driar was shocked, but in a good way; evidently he was amazed; impressed, I’d even say. “I know Dryair, you want me to prove it,” she muttered, “Fine.” And as the flick of a wrist, she was on top of a tree, “And I forgot to say, I can freeze time,” and just as quick, she was back down, “And here’s the test; in the near future, the tree I was on will fall.” “And what do we do?” Driar was fascinated. “Wait,” she murmured, and sure enough, in a matter of seconds, the tree was zooming down at us, and then it twirled around and fell in the other direction. Driar and I stood there, open-mouthed, gaping at her. She made a face, “Close your mouths, before flies fly in, Empress Laleanna and tutor-boy,” she laughed, “There, I’ve proved everything. I knew your identities all along, in a way. I knew all about you. I made the Rolan issue up, as well. I know he harasses you, Your Highness. I had a different reason to cry. Here’s my dilemma: What is the point of living if you know everything?” “Your village—” “Will die in a flood,” she finished for me, “Pointless existence. No reason for me to live. I thought my people were a reason, but the village is cursed. All shall die. Its monarchs don’t exist because of it. Trishelae the Earth Sprite is the only one survived. Fira the Fire Sprite as well, but she has removed herself from our world. They aren’t bound to me. I was the village’s last hope to live, after the monarchs were dead. But no, they shall die in a flood. I shall drown. Driar,” she finally got his name right, “Tame your water magic. I don’t want you to be responsible. Trishelae is Rolan’s wife. You must save her. She is the only one that has a chance to live, and rescue Duval.” “Help us, then. We plan to save them all. Our friend, Shayrianne’s sister is his wife as well,” I explained. “Topaz,” she muttered. “Alright, it’ll help me in having a purpose for my existence,” she agreed, dramatically. I had to be careful and not offend her. She can read my thoughts and hurl boulders at me without using her hands. Bad combination. I couldn’t even think anymore. Oh, life is cruel! Driar smiled, and Cala frowned. “That is why I hate being me. People fear me,” she cried out, exasperatedly. “I’m sorry.” Great, I’ve already offended her. “Driar, I’ve been meaning to ask you: Where’s Duval?” I changed the subject. “It’s now just a city-state, belonging to Geneve, but it used to be an Empire that could rival Geneve,” he told me, “And you should know what villages you own.” “What village do I own?” I laughed. “Geneve, Gustall, Duval, Crivanne, and Shokoi, I believe,” Cala explained. Driar and I were stunned. I mean, we knew of her powers, but she wasn’t yet thirteen. “Laleanne, weren’t you listening to her, she is all the ages of the village she is the mind-center for,” Driar wisely proclaimed, “And therefore already thirteen.” I saw that Cala shivered. “Are you cold?” I asked her courteously. “Oh, no,” she brushed it off brusquely. “Oh, I see what’s going on; a case of triskaiedekaphobia,” Driar tried to sound lighthearted, but he had a serious aura about him as well. “Thirteen is just a number,” she snapped, “ I fear that when I’m thirteen I’ll get more powers, which will be sheer torture, storing powers of those people and then soon of me inside my one body. Fearing a number is silly.” “No, it’s not,” I began to say, but Driar interrupted me, still in his energetic, joking mood. “Do you have triskaiedekaphobia?” Driar practically exploded with laughter at something so trifling. “No,” and I secretly added, what’s your problem? You’re clearly upsetting Cala. “Laleanna, I can hear you. I’m not upset, and I understand that many in Geneve are superstitious, as well as in other cities,” she talked to me as if I were a child, though she was clearly the child, being only eleven, and me being fourteen in daes’ time, “But I’m not superstitious,” she concluded. I was getting bored of this discussion, amusing as it was. “Driar, Cala, we’d best get going home,” I told them, “I mean, to the guest house at the temple-city.” “Yes, but this ruddy old mare can’t carry all three of us,” Driar suddenly realized. Cala sighed, eying us as if we were complete imbeciles. “You forget: I’m telekinetic. I’m sure I can teleport us all, including the horse, if you tell me exactly where to,” Cala explained. “Uh, wouldn’t it be easier to use a phaeton?” I asked hesitantly, fearing being transported, magically. “Empress Laleanna, I assure you no harm will come of this. Besides, I doubt that a farmer would give us a carriage,” Fannacalia had a laugh that sounded like bells, gently being blown about by the summer breeze. “They’ll have to, I’m Empre—” I began. Driar waved his forefinger at me, “Ah, ah, ah. You’re not Empress Laleanna, and if they see you wearing rags like that and claiming to be Royalty, you’ll be thrown into the dungeons,” Driar reminded me. How could I forget? Well, I guess that being teleported wouldn’t be so bad, but then a thought struck me. “Cala, can’t you just teleport a wagon or a light carriage over here? I’m not sure you can teleport into temple walls.” “Laleanna, I’ve assured you once, if I’ve assured you millions of times, this is perfectly safe. Galloping on a horse takes a short time, I’m sure, but phaetons go the distance of these fifteen lengths for about a dae,” Cala lectured, “And besides, I can teleport within the walls. I was born in the temple as well, and if you haven’t noticed my magnificently light hair, it is as that because I am a descendent of the Goddess Annoulia—” “But she is immortal,” Driar stammered, “Though if it were true, you would be immune to the barrier-like spell.” “It is true, and the Majestic Annoulia married a mere mortal, and gave up her life in Divinity for him,” she sighed, but quickly returned to her normal tone, “Mind your history!” After we’d promised her that we would learn the whole story of Annoulia, she agreed to teleport us, right to the stables, and then into the guest quarters, after dropping off the horse. I felt a tingling sensation from the depths within me, and everything started spinning. Faster, and yet faster the scenery swirled, and finally it was all a big blur. A silvery haze swallowed the four of us; Driar, Cala, the mare, and me; into its fog. I couldn’t see them, though I felt their presence. Soon, everything was whizzing back into focus; spinning slower and slower, until shapes reappeared. I was left breathless and dizzy, plopped down face first into a pile of manure, while Cala sat on a mound of hay. “Sorry ‘bout that,” she smiled, apologetically. I nearly opened my mouth to speak, but fearing the horse droppings would ooze in, I kept it shut. Driar, on the other hand wasn’t so wise. “You little wench!” he charged at her, spitting out bits of hay and dung from his mouth. For once I didn’t wish to kiss him, I thought, comically. Driar laughed, despite the circumstances, but when he resumed his previous action, he realized that the blonde-haired girl was gone. “Cala!” I called, “Cala!” “Go away,” she cried, “I’m just a wretched little wench, so you couldn’t possibly wish to associate with me.” “Though for some reason, which is beyond my understanding, she does,” Driar glared at her, still boiling in fury of the chagrin of being plunged face first in a mound of manure. “I said I was sorry,” she sniffled. I felt bad for her, though I was still enraged. Oh, should my subjects see me now…wouldn’t that be a pretty sight? “Driar, put the mare back into its stall, so we can quickly ‘port back to our rooms,” I commanded, then adding in, “Atartha will give you a room,” this time addressing Fannacalia. “Alright, but let’s just walk back,” Driar entreated. “There’s no dung back there,” I joked. “Yes, well—better safe than sorry,” he grinned, sheepishly. Driar! I exclaimed in mind-speech, shocked that Driar of all people had this trite coming from his lips. “If you two are quiet,” Cala recollected herself, “And Laleanna, I mean in both mind and regular speech, I will remove the manure from your bodies. Don’t break my concentration!” I realized what she was going to do, as she stared at us, without blinking. The putrid product of waste was loosening its hold on Driar and myself. Then, it was floating in front of us. Not a bit touched the dress or me. Parallel to this, the same went for Driar, I noticed. This telekinetic thing of hers most certainly come in handy, I realized. “Alright then, you two are clean, now are we walking or ‘porting?” Cala asked us. “Let’s just teleport,” Driar gave in, after reading my thoughts, “It’s getting dark, afterall, and pick-pockets are out on the streets, even in the temple-city.” “What would they plunder? Shayrianne has all of the valuables,” I said, thinking of Shai. It was quite amusing to think of what she’d do if Cala teleported her into manure. Just then, I heard a female voice in the back of my head. It sounded like a very frightened Shayrianne. Laleanne, I’m in trouble. Bandits ride heavily in these parts. You must come and save me. I am near Fira’s Cottage, on the outskirts of Duval. I’ve returned the Ring, and was on my way to meeting you. Help!!! she wailed frantically. I would’ve reassured her, but I couldn’t yet communicate telepathically, with the exception of Driar and Cala who could read my thoughts. “Who is this Shayrianne?” Cala asked, but rummaged through my thoughts and came to a conclusion, “Oh, I see. She is your good friend—” she began. “Yes, and she’s been attacked! We must save her!!!” I shouted, with much emotion. “Calm down,” Driar reassured me, “Where is she?” “Duval. Near Fira’s Cottage.” “I know where that is, though it’ll take some hours to teleport for such lengths,” Cala warned. My mind rang with only one thought: We must help her. We must. We must. We must!!! “It is illogical, then,” Driar proclaimed, “They’ll rape her, or rob her, or do whatever it is they plan to do to her before we get there.” “I don’t care,” I jutted my jaw forward, stubbornly, like Cala often did, “We’re going to try.” Lalee, hun— Driar mind-spoke. I flinched. Lalee, it is useless, the robbers will be gone by then, Driar explained, in an emotionless monotone. “You don’t even care!” I yelled, breathless. “We do care,” Driar said softly. I’ll hold them off, until you come, my closest friend’s ‘voice’ came through. “She’ll hold them off until then,” I exclaimed, very joyful at the prospect of saving her. The translucent feeling of teleportation returned without warning. The bosky hills around us were dark green blobs, and the sky was no longer dotted with stars. The pearly, silver fog absorbed us once more, and we were zooming quickly through the lands: faster than possible to be seen by others. The same feeling continued for a long while, until it abruptly stopped, unlike the other time. Driar, Cala, attack these thieves, I ordered, but they charged at the scoundrels before I asked. I ran to Shayria’s aide. My poor friend was shivering. She was only a shadow of her former cool and sophisticated self. She’d hardly ever been outside of the palace in Geneve. “Fifty men,” she muttered, inbetween shivers. I hugged my friend, “It’s alright. We’ll ‘port you to the temple’s guest rooms,” I reassured her. “But—” she stuttered, “Neither you nor Driar is telekinetic—” “Cala is,” I shifted my gaze to the young girl and she returned it, while stabbing a man with a bodkin, and then returned to throwing another at a tree, using merely her eyes. “She’s just a child—” Shai began. “She’s ‘ported us twice,” I explained. Into manure, I mentally added. “She can’t even be of age,” Shai tried to continue. “I’ll explain when we’re on safe grounds; at the guest rooms,” I told her. “Then let’s go,” Shai urged me. I could tell she wanted to get out of there. I wanted to get out of there. I’m pretty sure Driar and Cala felt the same way. “Cala, come on, teleport us!” I yelled. Fira's Cottage Chapter 8 I could tell through Driar that Cala was weakening. Magic takes a while to recharge, if you use a lot rapidly. She couldn’t be fighting those massive men without the use of her powers, or if she could, she most certainly would not be winning. This was a humungous band of thieves and cutthroats. Some muscular, some scrawny, and some bulky; only with magic could they be beaten. While I called her she got slashed across the forehead. For someone excelling in psyche a throbbing, bloody gash on their heads could be fatal. It would shatter her gestalt. “I can’t,” she cried helplessly, blood pouring from her wound in life-threatening amounts. “Cala!” Driar and I shouted, worriedly, while Shayrianne stared, gaping. “I’m fine,” her voice quivered. The poor girl fainted. Driar picked her up in his arms. “You jealous?” Driar winked. I rolled my eyes. “Driar!” Shai was startled. “What?” he mimicked her tone. “Stop joking around, guys. Cala is really hurt,” I was shocked that Driar could be so inconsiderate. “Watch out!” he shouted at the top of his lungs as a burly man charged at me with a dagger. With the little telekinetic power I didn’t know he had, Driar made Cala float after letting go of her, to stop the massive man from crushing me and/or stabbing me. Our friend floated inches off the ground. Shai was a wreck as well; her pretty green eyes looked lifeless and there were no golden streaks in them any longer. She was much thinner and frailer that I had ever seen her. Driar and I fought off the scoundrels, but they would not leave us alone. “Give me the girly, and I’ll let you go,” a man with a scent of musty wine offered. “You stupid drunken bastard!” I immediately yelled, kicking him where I’d often kicked Rolan. Laleanne, go with him. You can escape this drunkard, Driar mind-spoke. And what of his men? I guffawed. Yes. I have faith in you; Driar’s telepathic reassurance was as strong as his physical kind. I’ll follow you, then, Driar added. Cala? Shai? I asked, what about them? They’ll stay in Fira’s Cottage, and we’ll go back there, after escaping, Driar continued. Then, why can’t we all stay in Fira’s Cottage? I concluded. “So will you?” the fool asked. “No!” I yelled, forcefully, while Driar said, “Yes!” “Hey, pussy-lips, that’s for your master to decide,” the idiot actually dared to say. What did he think I was; a common prostitute? “Mater? This is my fiancée,” I laughed, trying to create an ersatz cheerful atmosphere. I was indignant. Did he think I was some sort of cheap whore? We had to get into that cottage! I don’t know why, but that cottage had a safe aura, and I could sense the men’s fear whenever they came near it. Driar, contact Cala and Shai to get inside the little house! I ‘pathed, Then we’ll get inside. They’ll follow, Driar said with a note of urgency in his ‘voice.’ They won’t, I argued. I can’t reach Cala! Driar was immensely afraid. I ran over to the floating little girl. She was breathing, and her heart was beating, but she was far from okay. I put my palm on her chest, just to make sure her pulse was really there and air was really circulating through her lungs. Nothing scared me as much as losing Cala. “Cala,” I whispered gently, crouching next to her, “get inside the shanty. Move yourself inside.” I couldn’t ‘hear’ her, but I somehow felt that she was trying to follow my instruction. “Hey, whatchoo doin’?” the immaculate wine-scented pickpocket sputtered. I ignored him. We’d all soon be safe. Shai and Driar were bounding towards the cottage, leaving me to bring Fannacalia across the group of a remaining twenty ruffians; half of them severely wounded. Driar, you jerk! I exclaimed, telepathically. Need help? he asked. I inwardly nodded. “Scatter, fools,” a young woman came out of the cottage, “For I am Fira, and your souls shall burn in Hell if you do not disperse!” “Wow!” I exclaimed, “Did Driar send you?” “The brown-haired young gentleman? Why yes, he did,” she stated, “We’d best get your friend inside, though. A blow to the head can be fatal to a mage, you know. Especially a psyche mage.” “Yeah. I know,” I answered her hypothetical question. She seemed taken aback by my retort. I guess she thought I was Driar’s maid, too. “Alright, well, Empress Laleanna, like I said, let’s go inside. I have some herbal remedies that should help Fannacalia here.” I didn’t ask how she knew; probably the same way everyone did. “Actually, Driar told me, and I know Fannacalia personally. We are both from Duval,” she smiled. “Then, you’re Princess Fira!” I exclaimed, forgetting about her little speech to the scoundrels. “Yes, one of the few remaining Sprites. I don’t wish to be anything special, though. I have my little log cabin in the woods. I have my husband, Kovon. I need nothing more,” she concluded. “But your people—” “Haven’t you heard, Your Highness? Duval shall be destroyed in a flood. All civilians shall perish.” “But, you can save them!” I protested. “We’ll discuss this inside,” she said with finality in her tone. I followed Fira into her cottage. It looked so cozy, and homey, with the flowers surrounding the premises. Geraniums. Daisies. Nasturtiums. Before, the brutes clouded them, but now it looked so serene. The ambient sylvan woods set off the vibrant colors of the blossoms. “But you can!” I shouted, once we were inside. The cottage was much more spacious in the interior. “Destiny is final!” Fira yelled back. “What is this?” a handsome man, whom I guessed to be Kovon beamed, “Fira is your temper carrying you away again?” “Yes,” the temperamental young woman puffed indignantly, “I’m sorry, Laleanna,” she frowned. “Oh, um…” I blushed, “Didn’t mean to cause problems. I was being to persistent.” There was an awkward moment. Maybe destiny is final. What if I’m not destined to know my past? Maybe the mysterious of John and Giovanna will never be unveiled. Why I fear pregnancy. Why I yearn for a mother. Why I don’t normally like small children. It is like a chain with a missing link; a fire running out of fuel; a woven sweater with a hole in it, that gets larger each time you wear it; like a spider web with a broken thread, making everything fall apart. “Well,” Fira smiled, cheering up, “Let me take you on a tour of my humble abode.” “Driar, Shai, c’mere!” I called, snapping out of my melancholy mood, almost like it’d never even happened. But it was there, lingering over me, like a dark shadow. Driar came over instantly, with a message that Shai had ‘taken ill.’ Why is he acting so proper all of a sudden? We’re at the home of a Princess. Besides, I want to see how they made the inside so large and the exterior miniscule in comparison. So, he’d noticed it, too. You don’t act like that in front of me, I protested, and I’m an Empress. At this he laughed, “You’re different.” Both Kovon and Fira looked at him, surprised. I would think him used to mind-speech, but it didn’t seem to be the case. He’s always blurting out random phrases. “Fira, weren’t you about to tour us?” I asked. “But—” she began. “Nevermind that,” I stopped her, “Why can’t you reclaim the throne of Duval?” “You own it.” “I’ll give it to you, if you take it.” “I don’t accept charity.” I puffed up, and tried to calm down, “It’s rightfully yours,” I answered, in a tone that had no hint of vexation. “Trishelae can take it,” she paused, “She’s older.” “You’re a Queen?” Kovon was stunned. “You didn’t tell him?” Driar exclaimed, furrowing his eyebrows. “I’m not a Queen. I am Fira. Just Fira!!!” she cried, bellowing, “Just FIRA!!!” The centerpiece on the table burst into flames. “Fira—” I began. “Yes! Just Fira!” she yelled again, “Fira! Just Fira. Just Fira. Nothing special. Just Fira!” “Alright, Fira, calm down,” Kovon patted her on the back. “Yes, FIRA!!!” she turned to face him. Shayrianne must have heard the commotion, and she walked into the room, “The table’s on fire!” she gasped. Driar ran over to the table, trying to stop the fire. “Oh, sorry, dear,” the fire suddenly stopped, I realized she was talking to Shai. “Tell my sister to be Queen,” Fira sad, placidly. “Fira, when will Cala, excuse me, Fannacalia be alright?” I instantly changed the subject.