Whispers of Fate: Part 10

Part 10

Natalie sat on her flower shop bed, her eyes trained on the mask in her hands. This was the longest she had ever examined one of the owl masks up close. They were usually such a guarded item that only members of The Circle of Stars could touch. Yet, here it was, resting in her hands as if it were just a plain piece of wood. Her hand ran over the grain. Her fingers catching every crack and chip before ending at the burn over the left eye. This was Halasi’s mask. Every single mask had its own grain and, although the difference was too fine to see, Natalie knew. 

She sighed. “I’m sorry, sister. I don’t know if I can finish what we started. I failed.”

Hanging her head, she let the silence ring in her ears, such was the only answer from the mask. 

“What ya so sorry for?”

Startled by the long drawn out voice from the door, Natalie looked up to the see the shop owner, Mr. Rifflen, leaning his large self on the door frame. 

“I’m… sorry Mr. Rifflen. I will get to work right away.”

He groaned and he pulled himself off the door and as he sat on the bed next to her. “Eh, don’t worry about it. We ain’t busy anyway.”

Upon hearing this, she dropped her eyes back to the mask.

“You seem a bit down. Something gnawing at ya?”

After a moment, she nodded. “I was meant to do something and I… didn’t. I never even had the chance.”

He flashed a knowing grin. “Hey, look, I’ve been there. This shop didn’t pop overnight, I’ll tell ya. I had to fight for it, I earned it. My old man once told me when I was real small. He said… he said… ah, yes. He said that making something of your life isn’t being held by the hand. It’s being thrown off a cliff and learning how to fly on the way down. If you don’t take the initiative to grow wings, yer gonna be as good as just another splatter on the street besides all the others that decided to not fly or believed they couldn’t. Now, I am not afraid of losing a worker. You could quit right now, if you wanted. What I am worried about is you splattering on the street.”

She laughed and turned the mask over in her hand. “That was perhaps the worst speech I have ever heard.”

He chuckled, his weight jossling the bed. “Well, hehe, I ain’t in the talkin business. I just sell flowers.”

Determination swept over her features as rain over the city. It was like a great fog had cleared in her mind, allowing his words to run in between her thoughts. Natalie looked up at Mr. Rifflen. “Yes… yes, you are right. I… I need to grow my wings. I need to go. I have to do something.”

She stood off the bed and began to gather her few belongings. “Thank you. Thank you for your kindness, for letting me work here. I have enjoyed this. Also for your words, they mean more than you know.”

He laughed again. “Thats the spirit, young lass. Go fly. Thanks for keeping me company and taking a big bit of strain off me for these last few weeks. I suppose I will have to find someone new but that’ll be alright. Just go.”

She nodded her thanks once more and began to walk out the door. Before she did, she placed a silver piece on the counter and took one single red poppy from the back. Slipping the mask over her stone like face, she knew exactly where she tread. For the first time, in what seemed like forever, she knew what to do.

Drysi contemplated her bouquet. It had been three days since they had appeared at her door and yet, despite being left out in the open, they hadn’t yet begun to wilt. For some reason that she couldn’t articulate, this fact drove her crazy. Just as she was about to throw them to the ground, a clamor outside her door caught her attention. Curious, she pulled it back to reveal a large number of the guard running down the hall toward the front entrance. Despite it only being early in the evening, the castle seemed to be bustling with activity.

Unwilling to just be a bystander, she fell in with their ranks, sticking out like a thorn in her long red dress which she pulled up so that she could run. As they rushed through the door, she saw even more guards by the front gate of the courtyard. She tried to ask what was going on but her voice was lost in the stomping of boots and the assorted shouting along the walls. Sprinting up the stairs in line with all the men, she finally reached the top of the eastern guard tower. 

Pushing her way to the front, she finally saw what they were all shouting about. Down below, like an ant facing down a wall, stood a small figure in a plain shirt and pants. On their face was a wooden mask and there was a flower clutched in their hand. 

The figure made a motion with their hand and the flower lit up in flames but did not burn. A flick of their wrist and the fire flew out in a large plume, bashing against the wooden gate but causing no substantial damage. As the plume subsided, an arrow flew down missing their foot but a small margin. Another arrow rushed by but the figure stepped aside and it landed in the grass beyond. The soldiers fired a couple more but they too were sidestepped as the figure threw more fire at the wall.  

Drysi gasped. What was she doing here? How did she get here? Her thoughts getting the better of her mouth, she called out through the din. “Natalie!”

Despite being so far away, Natalie looked directly at Drysi, stopping for a moment to stand. In that instant, another arrow hit her in the foot and pinned her in place. Panicking, she began to wrestle her shoe off but the sound of more bows being drawn stopped her in her tracks. The captain of the guard, a large man named Dacnis, called down, his obscenely large voice drowning out all other shouting. “Stand down! Now! Drop the flower and kneel!”

Seeing that she was outmatched, the girl dropped the single unwilted poppy and lowered herself to her knees, avoiding the arrow as she did. A moment later, the gate opened and fifteen guards rushed out to surround her. 

Drysi watched in horror as they kicked the young girl and eventually hit her in the head with the pommel of a sword which sent her to the ground, limp. As they picked her up and began to drag her inside, Drysi found herself wanting to scream, to cry, to do anything but she couldn’t. Instead, she just watched as they dragged her friend’s bruised body through the courtyard, down the stairs, and into the same dungeon which Drysi had escaped from an eternity ago. 

Just as she was about to go in after her, the dungeon door was shut and two familiar guards, Bulbul and Weaver, blocked the entrance. She tried to reason with them but they simply shook their heads. “Sorry, little missy, king’s orders. No one is to be permitted into the dungeon at this time.”

After realizing her efforts were futile, she returned back to her room. After a moment of thinking, she formulated the basis of a plan. Not being one for strategy, she knew that it would be less than ideal to rush head first into her daring rescue. Sitting on her bed, she was intent on making it fool proof. 

She smacked herself in the forehead and flopped onto the mattress. Oh, who was she fooling. There was no plan. Not yet. There was only desperation. She realized that she would do almost anything to see Natalie but that most anything would get her killed. 

Drysi sighed. This was going to be a lot harder than she thought. 

Natalie awoke in a daze of dim lights and sickly smells that did nothing to stop the pounding in her head. Trying to push herself off the ground, her right hand gave out and sent her back down. Another attempt with her other hand and soon she was sitting against the cold wall. Settling against the stone, she could feel a wet spot darkening the back of her shirt. Unwilling to care, she leaned against it anyway and began to rub at the sores that covered her whole body. 

Once her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she could see something resting just a few feet to her left. Reaching over, she was met by two wooden objects. Pulling them toward her, she saw that it was Halasi’s mask now split down the grain. Had this happened at any other time, she would have probably shed tears but, in her dilapidated state, she was too hurt to even breathe properly. Feeling at her chest, there was a sharp pain. One of her ribs was definitely broken.

Trying hard to stay calm, she took as deep breaths as she could and closed her eyes. Just as she felt consciousness leaving her body, a large grating sound, followed by low pitched moaning, snapped her out of sleep. The groaning only lasted a second before another voice, deep and gravely, shouted from the far corner of the dungeon. “Oi, shut up, Reddick! Shut up! We have a new one and we can’t have you ruining the moment!”

From the other corner a different voice yelled back. “Wot you mean ‘moment’? It passed, dinnit? Stop botherin wit yellin at da ol’ king and introduce us to da lil lady!”

The gravely voice sighed. “As always, Grind, you are right.”

The man cleared his throat, like the sound of chains being dragged across the bars of their cells. “I am head general Nif of the mighty Hall of Mold, at your service.”

Natalie furrowed her brow. “Hall of Moss? Where is that?”

Nif laughed, a deep rumbling noise that echoed off the walls. “I believe you misheard. I said Hall of Mold and, sister, you are in it.”

He held up his hands and motioned around him even though the girl couldn’t really see him that well. She smirked. “I see. So, this dungeon is the… great Hall of Mold?”

“Indeed, M’lady. I’s da king’s adviser. M’ name’s Grind, at yer service”

The Scotsman in the other corner held his head high, proud of his title. She giggled. “What kind of name is ‘Grind’? Did your mother give you it?”

“Nay, lass. It were put on me by da king ‘imself. Is because I grinds me teeth in me sleep, ya see? Me mum named me ‘Nicolas’ but ‘Grind’ is more distinguished. Speakin of, t’would appear you’s met da king. ‘E’s in da cell across from ya. Say hi, yer majesty.”

From the cell just a few feet in front of Natalie’s, from whence the groaning had come moments before, came the highest class, stiflingly posh, English accent she had ever heard outside of true royalty. “I say, tis a pleasure to make your acquaintance, madam. My name is Reddick Browning, the rat king of this here humble hall.”

“Yes, it is a pleasure… your majesty.”

Natalie looked over at Grind who just shook his head. “I sees yer confused. Well, dinnae let it bot’er ya. Da king is a bit off in da ‘ead but he’s a right ol ruler when ‘e’s fully conscious. When ‘e’s not, I’s in charge here, ‘s why I’m da adviser. Now, in da cell on da other side o’ ya, is our lil jester, Millie. She seems nice but ya call ‘er Mildred an she’ll slaughter ya.”

Turning to the other cell, Natalie was met by the widest eyes she had ever seen just above a toothy grin. Natalie waved slightly at the unblinking stare. Having finally blinked once, and only once, the girl spoke in a tone of voice more befitting a wild celebration than of a dank prison and much faster than anyone she had ever met before. “Hi miss, mistress, missy, missus, I’m Mildred! The grand jester of the court of the rat king! Say, would you like to see me juggle? It’s worth it, I promise!”

Natalie recoiled. “I thought no one called you… Mildred?”

Dropping the bubbly facade, Millie slammed her face into the bars, her small hands wrestling their way through the gaps at Natalie. “WHAT DID YOU CALL ME? Don’t you DARE say that name ever again, you hear me? I will kill you! I will! Don’t test me!”

Natalie held her hands up in self defence. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I won’t.”

 As sudden as gravity itself, Millie was smiling once more. “Oh, ok! Anyways, time to juggle! Yippee!”

Picking up three rocks off the floor, the jester threw them all up in the air at once, letting them hit the ground and scatter. Much like a true rat, she then scurried around on all four limbs and picked up the rocks with her teeth before returning to the wall. Spitting them back into her palm one by one, she held up her hand, victorious. “Ta-da! What’d you think?”

Shaking off her utter confusion, Natalie let out a short burst of applause before her wrist started hurting again. “Absolutely wonderful! You truly are an… entertaining jester. Yes, entertaining indeed.”

Millie let out a childish laugh and mimed a curtsy. Clearing his throat to regain Natalie's attention, Grind pointed to the last occupied cell. “Last an’ not least, dat’s Jerry, da court wizard. Say ‘ello, Jerry.”

From the cell, with a voice the size of a mouse, came the admission: “I’m Jerry.”

Grind laughed. “‘E’s a quiet bloke but very smart. ‘E can do practically anythin’. Magic o’ all kinds: Voodoo, necromantics… voodoo, practically everythin’. Ya know what? Oi, Jerry, tell me ma future! Prepare ta be amazed.”

After a moment of being lost in his thoughts and the view of his own palms, Jerry answered once more. “In your future, I see a great many things. But, one rises above the rest… you will grind your teeth in your sleep tonight… as you do every night.”

Grind shook his head and laughed. “I still don’t know ‘ow ‘e does it. ‘S black magic, I tell ya.” 

Nif, having had enough of the court’s antics, walked to his bars to get a closer look at the newcomer. “What about you, little lady? Who are you?” 

After thinking for a long while, she finally found her answer. “I’m Nat and I… am… a gardener. With these hands, I bring life to the land.”

The Hall of Mold applauded her. Reddick spoke up above the clapping that echoed off the walls. “Nat, you shall make for me a beautiful courtyard. Full of flowers never once seen by any living man.”

Just as Natalie, or Nat as she was now called, was about to make her new proclamation, the dungeon door flung open and a gruff voice called through the stones. “Dinner time, you lunatics!”

The immense jailor shuffled down the now silent hall, his beefy hand laying a small tray at the door of each cell. When he had left, the inmates reached for their respective meals. 

Nat wrapped her hand around the stale bread at the corner of the tray. Lifting it to her mouth, she could feel that there was something wrong. Breaking the bread, she carefully inspected the inside, her fingers digging around until she was able to see a silver sheen on the rock-like surface. “My fellow subjects, do not eat the food.”

Where there was once the usual evening meal chatter now there was nothing. When he saw no one else was going to say anything, Nif spoke up. “What? Why?”

Dropping the bread, Nat slumped back against the wall. “There’s mercury in it.”  

Her stomach suddenly felt so much emptier than it had before. Was this Kestrel’s plan to eliminate his prisoners? To slowly poison them? 

She considered Millie as she “juggled” again. Maybe this was why they were going insane. It all made a stark amount of sense. 

Nat groaned. Through her muddled mind came the foggy yet ever present sense that she would need to get out of here. Much to her distaste, she folded her hands in prayer. There was no answer. Dropping her arms, she called out to the only people that would listen. 

“Hall of Mold, we need to get out of here. I have a friend that will help us, but it will be our hands that will make this miracle happen. Will you be willing to help me? To help a humble gardener?”

Grind shook his head. “Nay, lil lass, there is no ‘scape from ‘ere. We ‘ave tried.”

Reddick shifted and clicked his tongue a few times. “Now, now, we mustn't consign ourselves to hopelessness yet. If the gardener believes it to be possible, then my kingdom shall stand beside her. What say you, my general Nif?” 

After a long drawn out consideration, Nif grunted his approval. With this, Nat began to think, to create a true miracle, one made by man.