Chapter 4: Chapter 3
I slept on the man's shoulder deeper than most nights spent in my bed, and when I woke up my drool had trickled down his cloak and dried from the early morning air. He had made it around the lake, and he was moving slower than before, each step taken with the lumbering stiffness of a giant. The trees glistened, the blue pine needles sparkling like stars in the early morning sunrise, and the scent of water filled my nose more than the smell of the man's blood and sweat.
Before I was finished processing whether I had been dreaming or not, the man said, "We're here." His voice made my eyes snap open, widening at the realization that not only was last night a real event, but I had been kidnapped.
He had taken me to another castle.
I never knew of this place prior. To my knowledge, the area around Stone Lake was populated by more bicorns and goblins than men, no buildings near for iles until you reached the outlying towns. Yet here we were, standing in front of a castle of similar make to my own—though it was on a smaller scale, a mere two towers compared to the ten comprising my own large home. The tops reached well above the trees, and the bricks wore vines which rode up the walls with a delicacy that may have been intentional. When the man walked closer, I could see it was old; it may have been even more ancient than my own home.
So who in the hell lived here?
Suddenly, the man toppled over, crumpling to the ground and breathing heavily. I fell sort of awkwardly to the side, fine but confused. He was in a cold sweat, but his face was hard and covered in cracks from the wind whipping into his face during his sprint from the night. He must have ran a good twenty iles, probably more since he had to run backwards to find me, and he had jumped five stories, and he had to fight a bunch of people.
Oh and he was stabbed by a stupid kid. Can't forget that, can we?
"Are you okay?" I asked, my voice hoarse from snoring and wind.
"Obviously not," he grumbled between breaths. "I worked myself too hard. Go find Basil, he can fix me up."
Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I yawned and asked, "Who is Basil? And how can I find him?" Oh, and stop ordering me around. I'm the royalty here, not you, I wanted to say. But this guy was dangerous even with a knife in him. Hell, he may have been more dangerous with it in him.
"He's probably out right now, working the forest," he said, eyes shut tight in pain. "Just go around back and call for him, he'll answer. I need to rest."
And he did. He passed out almost instantly, and I shook him for fear he was dead, though he breathed.
I could have left during this time. I could have found Persea rather easily by wrapping around the lake again, and someone would have recognized me. It's a testament to the amount of control that man had of my situation. It wasn't just his words, but the way he said them; his voice had a level of power reserved for kings or gods, though I suspect even gods have a respect for the power in a voice like his.
Plus the fact that I was attacked the last time I tried escaping wasn't really making the idea appealing, so finding this Basil guy seemed fine enough.
I made my way around back like he had said to, sneezing here and there from the cold morning air. Weather was still volatile even this deep into the summer, with freezing mornings and scorching hot afternoons. After a moment or two of walking I decided to pull my arms from my sleeves and keep them inside my shirt as I used to when I was younger, collar up close to my mouth to breathe hot air into it in a feeble attempt to bring heat to my torso and face.
Once I got all the way around back, I could begin to hear a thumping in the distance. Making my way toward it, I called out, "Basil…? Basil!?"
After a few times calling I heard another thunk and an unintelligible voice coming from deeper in the trees. I jogged in that direction, looking rather silly with my empty sleeves whipping around, before I found him. He wore only pants and a sleeveless shirt, his arms looking as large as tree trunks. He was built like the castle had looked, old and worn but with strong, sound structure. It looked like nothing could topple him over without giving everything they had and then some. His hair was a pale green, even his stubbly beard, as well his eyes. When I got there, he turned to me and cocked an eyebrow quizzically, obviously unused to the presence of a child.
"Hello there," he boomed, a massive hand on his hip. "Who might you be?"
"I am Prince Peppermint of Persea," I said, a declaritiveness to my voice still present despite everything. "The man who kidnapped me told me to get you so you may help him. He's injured and sleeping by your castle."
"Prince Peppermint, you say," Basil said, rubbing his stubble. "And you say there's a man with you who kidnapped you and brought you here?"
Irritated, I said, "Yes, now may we please go? It's cold out here."
Laughing loud enough to send birds flying, he shook his head and picked up the pile of trees he had next to him as if they were twigs. My eyes nearly busted out of their sockets—there were five trees on his shoulder, I counted. Sure, they weren't the largest trees. But they were still trees. You don't just go picking those things up like that.
"You seem in a hurry for a boy in his pajamas," he chortled, sauntering past me without a care.
"Don't speak to me like that," I said, my voice cracking.
Laughing some more, he said, "Sorry, I'm not used to having guests here these days. Come on then, let's get things all settled."
No one had ever spoken to me so frankly before, and I could feel the anger bubbling in my chest. But something about him told me that I could trust him.
And on the walk back, I noticed something.
All those trees, and he didn't have an axe.
Once we got back to the front of the castle, he found the man on the ground and without so much as a grunt, he hoisted him up on his free shoulder and whispered something. We walked around a bit more until we reached a large double door, which I thought he might knock on or ask me to open or something. Instead he kicked it open and held it for me. I remember walking past him sheepishly, like I should have been doing something. But his face didn't seem annoyed at all. In fact, the whole time he wore a grin, albeit strained.
The inside of the building was absolutely spartan. Wall to wall to floor to ceiling, nothing but brick and mortar. No carpet, no paintings, no furniture to speak of in the halls. It was more of a prison than a castle, and my mind started to race again with theories about my untimely demise, or a lifelong disappearance. But Basil just didn't fit in that theory, not yet. He emanated this sort of exuberance that just didn't feel evil.
Little did I know, bad things don't mean evil. That was a hard lesson I learned much later. Good people do bad things all the time, and vice versa. Despite all that, however, Basil is the perfect example of a man who you feel comfortable with the moment you met.
We walked a ways, up some spiral brick stairs, lines etched along the stairs where the trees scraped the bricks, showing that he would do this often. Then when we reached the top of the stairs he set the trees down and we walked down the hall and to the left, into a room with a bed and nothing else. Basil set down the man onto it, then knelt down and pulled a box free from under the bed.
"Wait here," he told me. "This shouldn't take me too long." And he set to work, removing the dagger lodged in the man and stitching the wound up with ease. He wrapped the man up in a few bandages, then took out a vial of liquid that he rubbed on the man's lips, locked up the box and put it back under the bed. Then he set the man so that he was laying on his back, head on a sufficient amount of pillows, then he felt his chest and frowned. "He's hot," he muttered, then removed the top half of his clothes, leaving him shirtless and hoodless, allowing me to get a good look at the man who had taken me. He looked a little older than Basil, maybe by a few years, with midnight green hair that was long and wild. His eyebrows were big and bushy, and the scruffy amount of facial hair gave him this look somewhere between roguish and debonair. Compared to Basil, his body was nowhere near as large, but his muscles were strong and toned, making him appear a seasoned warrior with all the scars that went across his body.
"Well, that's done," Basil sighed, wiping his brow. "He really got messed up this time, that knife wound was nasty."
I flinched at the mention of it. "Will he be alright?"
Chuckling, Basil nodded and slapped my shoulder lightly. "Don't you worry, boy. Sage is the Moss Knight for good reason. Give him a few days and he'll be on his feet and ready to take on the world." Guiding me out of the room, he brightened up and said, "I'm absolutely starving, aren't you?"
"Uhm…" I trailed off and nodded sheepishly.
"Good, good," he smiled. "Would you like the food to be hot?"
"I guess," I muttered, confused.
"Right then. Maybe some summertime pies and a glass of cider?"
I just nodded, still unsure about it. Trusting strange food wasn't exactly easy to do. Poison ended more lives in royal families than anything else, and I was often cautioned against it. That food sounded delicious, however, and my stomach was empty after the long night I had.
Hoisting up the trees he'd dropped, Basil and I turned left and entered another hallway, then turned into a room that was actually furnished, though it was still spare. Commoners might have called it quaint. There was a small fireplace, and the lingering scent of fire and pine seemed pressed into the walls. There was an actual rug in there, as well as two chairs, one of which was considerably more worn than the other. The wall to the right had six bookshelves, all filled and unpresentable in their disorganization. The other wall was empty and had a ton of space, which I didn't understand right away.
When Basil dropped all of the trees there it made sense. That was where he kept his firewood.
"Ahh," he exhaled, relieved. "It feels like those things get heavier every year, boy. Never get old." He leaned backwards, cracking his back a few times loudly before sitting down in the more worn chair. "Right, well sit down then. We should talk before we get to eating."
"Don't order me," I said, despite what had happened before.
"Fine then, it's your choice. These chairs are some of the comfiest in the whole world, though, that's a guarantee from yours truly." The way his eyes smiled at me made me think he wasn't lying.
Fighting him was useless, and I felt guilty being mean in light of his hospitality. So I sat in the chair. I just about melted, it was ridiculously comfortable, warming me even with no fire going.
He smirked at me when he saw my reaction. "See? Old Basil isn't a liar."
"You aren't that old," I grumbled, turning pink.
Laughing, he said, "No, I'm not. But I'm a lot older than you, and probably older than you think. In any case, I suppose I should ask if you're doing alright in light of the situation."
That made me blink. "What do you mean?"
"The coup, of course," he said, matter-of-factly. "I mean, Avocado changed hands last night. And they tried killing you. Something like that should have you shaken you up I would think."
My words were slow and deliberate. "How do you know about that? I'm not even sure I understand what happened and I was there."
"Right," he said to himself, nodding. "Well, forget about how I know. I just want to know how you're doing. You okay? Got any wounds I can't see?" He pointed to his chest. "Feel okay in here? Something like that will do a lot to a boy's heart."
The question confused me, and I showed it on my face. "I guess I'm fine, yeah. But my mother was still there when that man kidnapped me."
Basil frowned. "Your mother should be fine, boy. And that man didn't kidnap you. He saved you."
All the heat rushed to my head and I said, "I'm in a strange building with strange people I just met, you tell me my kingdom is gone basically—"
"Whoa, I didn't say that," Basil interrupted, but I kept going.
"—and you're asking me all these questions, giving me orders, you dress like some commoner, and this place is damn empty. I don't know what makes you think anyone with some semblance of a brain wouldn't think they were taken against their will, which I was, I might add. He grabbed me without my consent. That's treason, or a death sentence—"
Basil got up and grabbed me in an attempt to settle me down, but I hit him hard in the chest. The impact should have hurt, but he just gave me this stony face, a reaction I'd see often in him.
"Settle down," he said, his voice lowered. "Shh, come here."
He hugged me. Which seemed inappropriate, and I hit him again. But he kept hugging me anyway.
"It's going to be fine, boy. We'll get things fixed, you'll see your mother again, trust me."
The tone in which he spoke broke something in me and I just started bawling. I didn't hug him back. The royal in me, someone above that sort of thing, couldn't allow himself to do something like that. He held me tight, and that was fine.
When I had calmed down, we settled into our chairs again and we sat in silence for a bit, myself looking downward in shame, Basil staring at me thoughtfully, his eyes too hard to look at. After a minute or two of that, he sighed and said, "Let me go grab the food. It shouldn't take me long, I had the pie baking before I got to work earlier."
Basil came back with the food, and the tears on my face had dried and my head had healed slightly. He had a smile on his face again, looking pleased with the food he brought. "Fresh summertime pies, two glasses of orange cider from the archipelago, and some chocolate n' nut n' butter pasties for a bit of energy."
He set the food out and made a plate for each of us. I'd never seen a plate so packed full with food; it was almost intimidating. Basil took a bite of the pie and looked like he was going to pass out from pleasure, the way his eyes rolled. "Well, don't just sit there," he finally said to me. "Go on, eat up. Eat up!"
I took a bite of the chocolate n' nut n' butter pastie first, and the flavors were so rich and full, my whole mouth was happy. Basil had to have been the best cook I'd ever met. He may still be the best cook I've ever met—just don't tell my wife that! The way he was able to bring out every flavor from each food was incredible. The summertime pie was so filling that I thought I couldn't finish halfway through, but I finished anyway because of the wonderful medley of summer fruits and filling and dough, with a golden crisp surrounding it all that made each bite satisfying. And the cider tasted so much like summer, it transported me outside in the sun, and made me feel warm from inside out.
Basil rubbed his stomach and exhaled with satisfaction. "You enjoy it?" he asked, his voice strained from being full.
"Yes," I said with an enthusiasm I hadn't had for a long time.
"Good," he said. Then he got up and stretched, "Come on, let me take you to your room. You can take a bath and sleep there."
This time I didn't want to get up, not because he had ordered me, but because I was trying to digest my food. But I managed to get up, bringing my cider with me. He lead me down the hall and up some more stairs, telling me about the place all the while.
"I know this castle is probably a bit more empty than you're used to," he said in a way that sounded like he'd said it many times. "But we live below our means here so that we may enjoy the finer things. Many castles carry extensive amounts of expensive works of art, exotic wares or trophies from hunting trips, or things like rugs they got in trades using the money of the common folk. All just so they can maintain an image they think they need to have, but the reality is they're cheating themselves, you see?" He was waiting for me to answer, but I just nodded since I was growing sleepier by the step.
"Here, we hunt for food, not sport. We train our bodies as well as our minds, and we only hold what we need."
"Why do you have so many books, then?" I asked, yawning loudly. We turned a corner and entered what was to be my room. It had a single bed, a window, and a tub for bathing. A change of clothes was set on the bed, and a single book was next to the bed on the floor. I was too tired to realize then, but it was painfully obvious that I was being expected.
"Previous tenant," Basil said with a smile. "Sage never purchased any of them, and I only know a few of the authors. But books are important, you know. Training the mind and the body, remember?"
"Right," I said, rubbing my eyes.
Basil smiled and pat my back firmly. "Go on, get some rest. We'll talk more when you get up."
I removed my clothes once he left, tossing them in a pile on the floor. Then I got under the covers, not even bothering to remove the fresh clothes that were set out for me. The blankets were musty, and the colors had faded from the sun pouring into the room, and the bed was small enough that if I had been fully grown I'd have not fit at all on it. But at that time, it was exactly what I needed; in mere moments, I passed into sleep with a smile on my face. Because though everything had gone wrong for me, I was well fed and in bed. And that was enough.
♣ ♣ ♣
My dreams were chaotic and restless. They lacked a form or story, there was nothing happening, just the raw emotion of fear and distress. I'm unsure if that's what woke me up, or the argument taking place outside my room, but the two melded together and I lurched from my bed wildly.
"Get back to bed," Basil barked. He sounded frustrated and tired, and when my eyes opened I saw that it was late into the night, the moon high and bright in the window.
"No," the other voice growled. It was the man who had taken me here, Sage. "We've already wasted time by stopping here. I need to take the boy far away before they catch on and come here."
"What you need is rest," Basil sighed. "You haven't even eaten yet."
"I don't need food," the man said, and his footsteps grew louder.
Basil's voice suddenly found its stride, and he began yelling as if he were Sage's father, in a way that made my heart race and sent me deeper beneath the covers. "Don't need food? What will you do when you pass out and the boy can't save you?"
"Just stay out of this, Basil. You aren't supposed to be helping us anyway."
"You're the one who came here," Basil shouted, then took a deep breath. "Look, the boy's still sleeping. We can't be so loud."
"You're the one being loud," the man said, a snideness to his voice.
"Just shut up and listen to me. You need to sit down and eat. Now."
There was a silence between them, and I sat up in bed in earnest, trying my best to eavesdrop. "If you don't sit down and eat on your own, I'll force you myself."
After a few seconds, the man chortled. "Come now, Basil. You can't do that without being condemned to death, and I'm sure you wouldn't want to disrupt your quiet life here any more than we already have. I'll be taking Mint out of here, and that's that."
The door swung inward and I lay down under the covers, hoping that no one saw the movement.
Basil went to grab the man but the man disappeared and reappeared at the bed, his hand on the covers. He ripped them off of me with savage speed, and revealed to himself and Sage my largely naked body. Both of them grunted and gasped in shock, and I felt myself suddenly wake up completely.
"Get out of here," I blurted out, holding a pillow closely to my groin.
The man, undeterred, grabbed for me and I yelled, "Get the hell out of here right now before I stab you again! You won't touch me!"
Basil walked in and grabbed his shoulder, unable to hide a smirk. "Look, you need to rest and he obviously isn't going to make things easy for you right now. He's more tired than you are, and more naked to boot. Just give him some time, it's night time anyway."
They walked out, the man glaring at me over his shoulder, his eyes showing red around his pupils. It looked like he hadn't slept a wink.
Once they closed the door, I felt too awake to return to bed right away so I went over to the bath and walked in, sitting down on the steps inside. The water was warm, and I felt as if I would be tired once more if I stayed too long. But I was confident I would be fine long enough to think.
Why was that man so intent on getting me out of here? I figured that taking me to this place was the extent of the journey, but apparently we only stopped here because he wasn't fit to keep going. And he seemed pretty sure that we were still in danger here. Basil didn't seem to think so, or care. But from what little I'd seen, it seemed he didn't get fazed by much of anything.
He did care, however, about us leaving.
The way he spoke made Sage sound… scary. Really scary, actually. Getting on Sage's bad side would be bad news, which was hard for me to admit since he seemed more like a common man than a royal.
And the most unforgivable thing was that man had called me Mint. He should have referred to me as my full name Peppermint, out of respect.
Before I was finished bathing, I decided to fight him if he called me that again. A foolish idea, I know, and even then I was sure it would go poorly. But I was taught to uphold my own self image, and with it in question like that I had to make sure he knew where I stood.
Besides, back then I believed I could go home if I won.
This time before going back to bed I made sure to put on my clothes, or at least my pants. It felt good to be clean of the sweat and outside air, and the clothes had a feeling of freshness to them that made me feel ready to do anything—in this case, ready to sleep.
♣ ♣ ♣
When I woke up next it was morning, the sun blasting its way in on my face through the window. I smelled morning dew, the blankets, the musty smell of sleep, and fresh bacon. The bacon was what really got me up. Basil stood next to my bed and was setting up a cart with a plate of all sorts of food, all of which looked delicious, most of which I had never seen or heard of before.
"Ah, good morning, Mint," he said, which irked me but he had food so the fight wasn't in me. "We've got a good breakfast this morning; fresh peach cakes, some bicorn bacon and hard boiled bicorn eggs, and hot summer soup. I figure with all this food, water would be better and less filling for you, but if you want cider I can go grab some for you."
I shook my head. "Just don't call me Mint and we're good, thanks."
He smiled at me and said, "That's your name though, isn't it? What else should I call you?"
"Your royal majesty, or Prince Peppermint," I said before taking a massive bite of bacon.
"That's much too long, Mint will suffice," Basil said, then he walked out. Which was good because that had pissed me off. These people had no respect, even the help was being disrespectful to me, even worse since I especially liked him and his cooking.
Once I finished the food, which was once again delicious, I got completely dressed in the clothes that were set out for me. The shirt was much like theirs, white and without sleeves which would be nice in the hot afternoons but not the cold mornings. The cloak was a midnight purple, with a hood that would conceal most of my face and material that was light enough to still be breathable and easy to wear. There were no mirrors in that sparse room, but I imagined I looked pretty wicked, which as a young man this was always the goal. I wouldn't admit it then, but wearing something like that was refreshing.
After that, I took a deep breath and prepared as well as I could to meet with Sage to finish what had happened before. No matter what, it seemed I would end up going away with that wild man, so it made the most sense to just get it over with. But that didn't make my knees quake any less.
Just thinking about him made my whole body shudder.
I went down the hall and peered into the many, many empty rooms on that floor before deciding to head down to the next one. That floor was equally empty, even the fire room was empty save for the scent of pine needles. I started calling out for Sage, but no one responded save for the echo of my own call.
Then, somewhere between my voice calling and my own echo calling back, I heard a rustling outside, accompanied by the booming voice of the man, my captor, roaring out a challenge that brought even me hobbling to the window to see what the fuss was about, the resounding call of a fight brought me like a moth to light.
There were ten men. They all wore light armor, probably leather or some form of hide—due to the heat metal would have burned their skin off and probably killed them on the way here—and they all carried hefty clubs made of iron, long bars with hilts wrapped in silk, shimmering with a blinding white light when the sun caught it right, making me shield my eyes. An obvious leader stood at the center of the semicircle, his head they only one unprotected by a helmet and instead showing off a circlet of gold and silver, and he carried a sword too ornate to have ever seen actual use, too small to be wielded by a man, a mere boys toy. When he spoke, his voice slithered from between his lips and I could barely even hear it from my vantage point, let alone understand the words he spoke. But his face showed me all I needed to know; the prince of Cashew came for his bounty.
From against the wall I could see my captor lashing out wildly, looking like a ravenous bear guarding its child, clawing bark and roaring with a strength only found in those with something to protect. Behind him and to his left was Basil, big arms crossed and his face a deep set frown, the lines on his forehead deepening in worry. He turned and looked up at me, and when we locked eyes his seemed to glow a vibrant green. I felt mine widen, and he gave me a smile so wide and jovial that a calm swept over me and I stood up a little straighter, ready to witness whatever it was that was to happen here.
"That's enough," Basil said, his voice so great that it was able to travel to me without any need for me to strain my ears. He placed a palm on the man's shoulder and leaned in to whisper something to him. Sage struggled a little and I heard him yell something; within a second or two, however, he calmed down, his breathing slowed. Something Basil had said brought him back down to Longan.
The prince of Cashew, Sumac, laughed with a grace fit for royalty, which is to say he snickered airily. Then he drew his sword out, the light bouncing off it into my eyes, and I distinctly heard him call out, "Kill them both."
Stepping to my left a bit to avoid the light of the sword, I stared out from the shadows of the castle so no one could see me. My heart pounded in my throat as thoughts of being dragged back to Persea, with Sumac doing sadistic things the whole way, cutting as he pleased with that toy of his, hammered my head with such strength that if the battle hadn't ended in an instant as it did I would have been left with a magnificent headache.
Sage belted out a laugh and stepped in front of the men with a care I'd describe as lackadaisical. He then made a fist with his left hand, locked it under his armpit with his elbow pointed out above his back like a wing, crouching slightly with his knees bent perpendicular. Then, when he was nearly surrounded, he shot his fist out with tremendous speed and yelled with it.
What should have been a simple punch was a hurricane.
Wind shot out with enough force to knock every single man in front of him head over heels, mouth to ass, across the ground, passing the trees in front of them, hurtling deep into that forest for what I could only guess to be forever. Even above that whirlwind I could hear the screams of the men, the loud, tremendous cracking of the trees and foliage that were in the way of them, and even the calls of the animals escaping the natural disaster heading their way.
Even Sumac got knocked way, way back, his head hitting at least two trees on his way out.
Basil let out another immense laugh as he slapped Sage's shoulder. The wind was still going a thousand iles south, back to Persea and for all I knew well over the sea. I was absolutely stunned; how the hell did he do that? Was that magic?
Sage and Basil went back into the castle and, after I got my bearings and decided it best not to think so hard about what just happened, I ran down the hall and down the stairs, nearly slamming into Sage when I got to the bottom.
"Oh, there you are," he said, still laughing. "We were worried they might have snuck in somehow, but it seems you're still okay."
I couldn't help it, and I asked, "What in the hell did you do to them? Are you some kind of wizard or something?"
Instead of answering he grabbed me and pulled me close. "No need to ask any questions. Just thank Basil and we'll be on our way."
"I think not," Basil said, folding his arms.
"I don't need food, and he's well rested," Sage said calmly. "You've seen I speak the truth; people are after us, and they won't stop until we've been captured. Specifically the boy. So if you don't mind—"
Basil grinned and nodded, "Don't worry, I'll come along."
I gasped in surprise.
Sage even grunted in surprise.
"What? I'm coming with you and that's final," Basil said in reply to our faces. "You need someone sensible with you. Besides, I know from experience you aren't the best teacher."
"Teacher?" I asked, more concerned.
"Shut up," Sage growled. "Both of you." They both stared at each other, then Sage sighed and ran a hand through his dark green hair. "Fine, fine. You can come. Just don't go filling his head with that shit you're always going on about."
"Done," Basil said. "Just let me go pack up and we'll be on our way."
Sage ran off up the stairs, and I looked to the man holding me and asked, "What was it you did out there?"
Smirking, he shook his head.
"That will be your first lesson."
Before I could ask further, he kept running up the stairs and called down to me, "Once upon a time, boy, I was something great."
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