Serial Saturday: "The Clan of Outcasts" Season 3, Part 8 (2 of 2)

Part 8

"Disappearing Acts" (Part 2)

"Where is it?"

Damaris wanted to pull out a handful of his thick, dark hair as he dug through the cabinet. He'd already pulled out every drawer, looking for the etched board he had designed for the cake-topper. This wasn't the first thing he'd lost today--it seemed every time he went to make a dish, the ingredients themselves weren't where he left them, and he'd had to improvise at breakfast because they didn't have any of the oranges he had planned to use for the pastries. His favorite cast-iron pan was missing, too, so he had to be extra-careful when frying the eggs and he ended up almost burning the bacon because the flimsy pan didn't distribute the heat from his hands correctly.
Oranges and pans were one thing, but the cake-topper? That was the last straw!

The young man stood in the middle of the disorderly space and tapped his chin. What else could he use for the top of the cake? His eye fell on some extra baking chocolate leftover from tonight's dessert. A smile crept over his face as his thoughts worked over a new plan.

Damaris anchored his stance as he held the bowl of chocolate chunks in his hand. Summoning a faint whisper of heat, he carefully tilted the bowl over the parchment, letting a thin stream of melted chocolate drizzle out and form the word Zayra in elegant, looping cursive. Once he had the letters formed thick enough to stand on their own, he set the parchment on ice blocks to harden, and surveyed the massive tower of cake covered in buttercream, meringue, and macarons before him. A light touch on a glossy meringue button, and the surface crusted perfectly into the crunchy, flaky texture he needed it to be. Damaris stepped back and sighed with relief. Everything was ready for the celebration tomorrow.

"Damaris?" Anahita called from the kitchen door.

He was too excited, he met her at the foot of the stairs. "Come see!" He pulled her by the hands over to the chilly corner where the cake would stay cool until it was ready for the big reveal. "I just finished it."
Anahita gazed upon the wonderful masterpiece and her mouth even dropped open a little bit. "Oh my!" She gasped, her eyes drinking in all the exquisite details. "Damaris, that's beautiful!"

He blushed, flicking little sparks between his fingers as he did whenever he felt nervous. His eyes traveled down to her own hands. "What," he quipped, "no ink-stains today?"

Anahita's eyes squinted, and then she noticed her hands and understood his meaning. "Oh!" She laughed lightly. "I was just in Princess Zayra's parlor, as usual, but though I waited for almost an hour, she wasn't there. I think she's getting more anxious, thinking that no one wants anything to do with her birthday." She summoned a glob of water from the air to wash away some crumbs from the counter in front of her. "So many times, I've felt the urge to tell her, if only to help her feel better!"

Damaris chuckled, thinking of seeing the Princess' face when she laid eyes on the birthday cake that was designed especially for her. "Do you think she'll like it?"

Anahita smiled and grasped his hand. He relished the cool touch of her skin against his. "I think she'll love it!" She tilted her head. "Didn't you make a cake topper for it, too?"

Damaris rubbed the back of his head. "I, well... It's missing, somehow--I must have carried it somewhere, or someone else found it, or something... I don't know. But instead, I made a new one!"
The young girl glanced at the stained bowl still sitting next to the washbasin. "Out of chocolate?" she guessed.
Damaris walked to the icebox. "Yes! I have it right--" He stopped.
"What is it?" Anahita asked, crossing the kitchen to join him.

Damaris just stared numbly at the plain ice-block. "It was right here!" He wailed. "How is it gone already? Who could have taken it?"

Anahita stood on tiptoe, but she couldn't see all the way to the bottom of the container. "Did it melt?" she guessed.
Damaris gave her a concerned frown. "It's ice, Ana--how could it melt chocolate?"
The young girl shrugged. "I was just trying to come up with the likeliest option."
Damaris threw himself to the ground next to the icebox. "What am I going to do?" He wailed. "The party is tomorrow, and there's nothing on top of my cake!"
Anahita came to sit next to him, her knees curling against him. "I think it's beautiful just the way it is," she whispered into his ear. "I say it doesn't need anything more."

Damaris rolled his eyes. "You really think so?"
Ana smiled. "Yes I do! You've done an amazing job getting everything ready for the party while also not neglecting your daily cooking duties. You deserve a fun treat!" She rummaged in the pantry and brought out a small jar of hard, round kernels. "How about some popcorn?"
Damaris grinned. "That sounds great... except..." He winced, feeling his hopes dash once again.
Anahita frowned. "What, did you use all the butter in that frosting?"

Damaris flicked his fingers, and sparks flew once more. "Not that, but... I can't find my cast-iron pan."
Ana squinted at him. Damaris was always so protective of that treasured item, it was impossible to conceive that he might not know where it is. "But how?" She asked. "Are you sure you haven't--"
Damaris rolled to his feet. "I know exactly where I left it last!" He snapped. "It hasn't left the kitchen, I'm sure of it!"
"What's so-- Oh! That's beautiful!"

Now Anahita jumped to her feet as Queen Azelie herself graced the kitchen stairs with her presence.
The lanterns made her red hair gleam with a sun-like glow as she admired the grand cake. "Damaris, you've really outdone yourself!" she declared approvingly.
Damaris gave a light bow, smoothing his unruly hair with his fingers. "Ah, do you think she'll like it?"

Azelie was no longer looking at him. She frowned as she took a few paces to the side, and then she blinked, as if it had been no more than a brief stagger. "Oh, hm? I mean, yes, the cake is absolutely perfect for the party."

Anahita shuffled nervously, but Damaris watched the young queen carefully. He stepped forward. "Is something wrong, your Highness?"

Azelie finally met his gaze and smiled. "Oh, no, it's probably nothing--just a voice I keep hearing..." She trailed off and gestured to her head. "My Gift, you know; anyway, it's probably just stress, with the party tomorrow and those strange goings-on in the garden--"
"What's happening in the garden?" Anahita asked.

Azelie fell silent, her gaze relaxed and aimless, focusing on nothing in front of her. She gave a small sniff, straightened and said, "I think I'm going to find Beren." She turned back to ascend the steps back into the main part of the castle.

Anahita dashed forward. "I'll go with you, Your Majesty!" she offered. Just before the door closed, Damaris heard her asking, "Have you seen Princess Zayra today?"

Alone in the silence, Damaris sighed. He surveyed the kitchen with a calculated gaze. So many nooks and crannies. Places to hide, his years of living on the street told him. Places to keep things where people would tire of looking before they ever found it. But who would be taking things out from under him? He made his way to the shadowy cellar. If it was there, he would find it. He cradled a small flame in his hand, careful not to let its light disturb the balance of the cool, dry environment. There were too many special and irreplaceable foods down here.

A rustling caught his ear, and Damaris froze. His last breath hung in a cloud in front of his face as he snuffed out the flame in his hand with a clench of his fist. Something about the shadows at the back of the cellar unnerved him. He watched it closely, wishing he could just blink and see in the dark like Denahlia could.

Maybe then he would have seen the thing that had those massive hands that reached out and pulled him into the darkness, snuffing out his consciousness as easily as he had quenched the flame.
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The Harbor of The Realm was not a clean place, by any means. Men and women flocked back and forth, burdened with large crates and packages, fresh from a long voyage with hardly any space for a decent wash, jostling against one another in a single-minded effort to reach their destination. Caged and leashed animals growled and howled at the lack of space, people shouted in each others' faces to be heard over the clatter of carts and shouting porters and swinging ropes and swaying ships.

Denahlia kept her arms pressed tightly against her sides, her hands clasped behind her back as she stalked down to the docks. She didn't typically come down here if she could help it, and for that reason. Out of everybody milling around the busy Harbor, she had the widest berth. One look at the jagged scar over her right eye, and even those who didn't know her at all shied away.

Once she reached the doorway of the Harbor's most reputable lodgings, the Phoenix Inn, and made sure to clear her face and put on a smile before entering.

If the docks were crowded with people, noise, and smell, the Inn wasn't much better--only more of everything in an enclosed space. Denahlia cast a passing glance over the raucous crowd shouting and laughing and singing and toasting each other, remembering with a shudder the day she had met Troy in a corner booth here, while he sat bandying words with the drunken Peacekeeper, Rayne. It had been known only as "The Dockside Tavern" then. Now, she paid special attention to the wait-staff: the barmaids fielding off groping hands and trying to keep everybody supplied at all times, and the barmen who practically paced from the kitchens behind the bar out around the dining hall and back again. Unoccupied tables shone brightly from a fresh wash, and it looked like people were in general enjoying the food.

"Well, Madam Watch!" Tewks, the proprietor of the Phoenix, greeted her from the door of his office, tucked at the back of the building. He had broad shoulders and glossy dark hair, which he wore in a neat ponytail down the back of his shoulders. He bowed his head in greeting. "To what do I owe this honor? Care for a pint and a friendly chat?" He signaled a passing waiter. "Charley! A pitcher and two glasses to my office, please."

"Yes, boss," Charley muttered, and Tewks gestured over his threshhold. "Come inside where we can hear each other better, and sit a spell."

Denahlia entered the small room, noting the dramatic reduction in noise as she did. She remained standing. "I just came down to see how our guests were getting on," she said.
Tewks caught the gleam in Denahlia's good eye--her left one, and he nodded. "The newest arrivals? Eh, they're not the worst lot we've had in here, I'll grant you! A few of the crew seem to be the sort that like to start fights, but the Quartermaster keeps them in line pretty well."

While Tewks spoke, Denahlia ran her fingertips over the back of her palm, scrolling through the personnel files she had on the pirates. "Goddry? Is that the name?"

Tewks bobbed his head. "I might've heard the Captain mentioning it more than a few times. He seems to depend on him a lot."

Denahlia opened her mouth to say something more, but just then, a painful jolt radiated from the implant on her wrist. Such a signal could only mean one thing: Perimeter breach near her private office. She turned to the door. "Thanks for the update. If you see anything worth mentioning--"
Denahlia had to double back as Charley entered with a tray laden with a cool pitcher and two empty glasses.

"Oh, beg pardon!" he stammered, setting the tray on the table and ducking out as quickly as he entered.
Denahlia held the door and stepped out just as quickly.

"Wait!" Tewks called after her. "Aren't you going to ask about the other stranger?"

Denahlia froze, turning back to face the man. "What other stranger?"

Tewks shrugged. "The first strange man to arrive this week. Said he'd taken a job for someone in the area, and they'd recommended my place. About the only person to drive business to my place, as opposed to those big flashy, cheap accommodations closer to the docks is you and your staff... I thought you knew..."

Denahlia felt the urge to find out more about this other person--if Tewks cared enough to mention him, then there was definitely something concerning about him--but by now the perimeter breach had been upgraded to a series of emergency signals from Hayden.

She ignored Tewks and made her way up to the back trail through the Harbor, the jagged, stilted path of alleyways and abandoned corridors that was the quickest way from the far end of the Harbor up to her offices perched on the highest vantage point.

She heard Hayden's frantic begging, and the savage snarl of an animal from just outside the courtyard surrounding her office's lower entrance. The perimeter sensors flashed red on a frequency she could only see when she glanced between two outstretched fingers. Unauthorized persons detected. The only thing missing was the series of protective measures that Denahlia usually had keyed up when she did not want to be disturbed. Whoever was behind the snarling animal should be grateful that Denahlia hadn't considered herself in any danger at the moment.

Inside, she saw Hayden plastered against the courtyard wall, begging for his life, while a sleek grey wolf snarled and snapped at him if he so much as batted an eyelash--and the poor young man was so terrified he was fairly quaking in his boots. On the other side of the courtyard, watching with a feral gleam in her eye and a smirk on her face was the Alpha herself, Velora.

Denahlia flicked in the direction of the wolf, sending an invisible electric charge through the air. The animal skittered sideways with a yelp of pain. Velora's eyes instantly narrowed on Denahlia.

"All right," Denahlia smirked. "You've got my attention; now your pet can stop terrorizing my assistant."

Velora's lip curled in a sneer, but she signaled to the wolf, who immediately dropped its head and slunk into step beside Velora.

Hayden staggered away from the wall, brushing off the debris and muttering in relief.
Denahlia nodded toward the gate. "I've got this, Hayden. You get on back to the docks." She waited until she had entered her office first and disengaged the digital locks. Only then did she acknowledge Velora with a gracious nod. "Come on in; to what do I owe the pleasure?"

The dark-haired Forest Warden seemed as guarded and ill-at-ease as the predator padding along beside her. Her gaze traveled over every inch of the room and she sniffed several times before speaking.
"What can you tell me about a man with metal arms?"

Outwardly, Denahlia maintained her cool, disaffected posture. Inwardly, she cursed the day she ever laid eyes on Markus here in the Realm. She should have just gone away and left him without saying anything! "Well, I'd be careful shaking hands with him, for one thing!" she replied. "You don't get a lot of people with metal arms around here, that's for sure!" First Erlis coming around asking about dragons, now this?
"I'm not in the mood for games, Denahlia!" Velora snapped. "You are the only one I've ever heard of with a Gift that's not actually a Gift--"

"Don't remind me!" Denahlia had to remember to constantly be sour about that fact, as she had been before she had known exactly what was giving her eyes these heightened abilities. It wasn't always easy, channelling that former part of herself that felt so bitter at being out of place. I have a place now! her inner voice screamed. I know who I am, and where I truly belong! But she could never be there, not while she had a duty and a life hear in The Realm. It wasn't meant to be.

"I'm just saying," Velora grumbled, "when I've got people coming to me talking about someone who has super-human abilities without actually being Gifted... I have to assume--"

"That they're somehow connected with me," Denahlia slouched back in her chair and folded her arms. "I see how it is."

"Do you?" retorted the dark-haired wolf-shifter. At her feet, the wolf rose from a seated position and abruptly sauntered over to the window while Velora kept talking. "Because lately I've begun to notice that perhaps you don't see as clearly as you once did--"

"Who's seeing whom?" A third voice entered the conversation, and the wolf poised for attack with a snarl, claws and teeth bared, hackles raised.
Velora was on her feet, too, in a defensive stance similar to the wolf's.

Denahlia sat forward as Markus waltzed through her open door, as if he wasn't the subject of curiosity for several different groups who were all on edge about something that Denahlia couldn't figure out.
She felt all the righteous indignation of an older sister as she berated him. "Markus, what have you done? You show up, promise to stay out of trouble, and all of a sudden I've got people in my office asking if I've seen a dragon, and now she," she jabbed a finger at Velora, "is asking about you specifically--"

Markus beamed as if Denahlia had just informed him that Velora was a devoted fan. "You don't say!" He held up his hand as if going in for a handshake--but it was his artificial left arm. "Markus Firron, a pleasure to--"

It was most fortunate that he'd kept his right side protected, because the simple movement was all it took to throw the suspicious wolf into a frenzy. It lunged at him, catching his sleeved arm in its jaws--and then flying across the room as Markus merely shook it off like an errant bug.

"Sable!" Velora cried as the wolf collapsed. She turned back to Markus and murder flamed in her eyes.

Denahlia held out her hand, palm toward Velora. "STOP!" she commanded, and just like that, Velora found herself frozen in place, much like she'd been when she first met Justin after he'd received a telekinetic Gift. An invisible weight dragged her whole body, compelling her to sit back in her chair facing Denahlia.
The former Hunter glared at both Markus and Velora. "There will be no fighting in my office," she declared. "You two will behave like civilized adults, or I will throw you out personally--and don't think I can't!" She flipped her hand over, palm-up, and Velora felt the ground give way a little underneath her, as if she was going to float out of her seat at any moment. Did Denahlia have telekinesis, too? Velora had seen her do a lot of things with her eyes, but this was new... How could it be new? Was Denahlia working for another Shadow who had "upgraded" her Gift just like Troy did?

Just as easily as it had slipped into place, the weight slowly eased off of Velora, and she felt once again in command of her body. She dared not check to see if Sable was all right. She sat, waiting for Denahlia to speak.

Denahlia didn't keep them waiting long. "First, allow me to introduce both of you to each other, and you will shake hands," she nailed the metal-armed man with a look, "properly. This," she gestured to Velora, "is Velora, the Forest Warden appointed by King Jaran, and the person largely responsible for the security of the entrance to Wildhaven. Velora," she nodded toward Markus, "I'd like you to meet Markus Firron, my cousin. He's from the Outer Realm, where his parents raised me before I came to the White Castle to serve on the security forces under King Balwyn."

Markus balked, but he caught the disapproving look in Denahlia's eye and held out his right hand. Velora seemed reluctant to touch it, as if she thought it might be some kind of fakery, as his right hand was. Markus held up that hand, proving to her that it was indeed mechanical and not flesh-and-blood. The pair shook hands, and Markus couldn't resist quipping, "Charmed."

Velora sat on the edge of her seat, her spine drawn up straight. She looked between Denahlia and Markus. "So... neither of you are Gifted," she said. "But one has mechanical parts," she glanced toward Markus, "and the other..." her gaze trailed questioningly over to Denahlia.

Denahlia gestured to her face. "Mechanical also, at least somewhat. Anyway, the bottom line is, we're all friends here, and there are apparently some misunderstandings that I'd like cleared up." She pointed to Velora. "You were saying something about a man with mechanical arms causing trouble? Who brought you this report?"

Markus started forward. "I would never--"
"Acht!" Denahlia silenced him with a raised finger. She pointed. "You will get your chance," she growled at him. "For now, you listen."
Markus flopped back.

Velora cleared her throat. "It wasn't a report, exactly," she began slowly. Her eyes shifted back and forth, as if she was trying to figure out the right way to say something. "If you must know..." she trailed off and cast a furtive glance toward the door.

Denahlia read her movements. "This office is secure," she said, entering the coded sequence on the desktop. Immediately, the lights shifted, and the door swung shut on its own. "Nobody is hearing this conversation but us."

Velora frowned a little, looked a bit scared, but she nodded. "I don't know how close they want me to guard the information, so just don't go blabbing it outside this room without my say-so, but... We might be on the brink of war with the Elves."
Denahlia frowned. "Brink of war? I thought the Elves preferred not to trespass in our dimension, so long as we stayed out of theirs!"

Markus shifted uncomfortably, and Velora snorted. "Yes, well, that was before they decided that your cousin here was responsible for stealing one of the dragons for which they were providing sanctuary--"
"I didn't steal her!" Markus exploded. "I rescued her!"

Denahlia glared at him. "You didn't tell me that the ugly fellows you took her from were Elves!"

"They weren't!" Markus protested. "They were scruffy, human, ordinary traffickers! They must have been the ones to steal from the Elves! It wasn't me!"

"Then why would they tell me that they're holding my man hostage until I turn over to them the metal-armed man who not only stole the dragon under their protection, but her newly-hatched offspring as well?" Velora challenged. "Apparently the offense is now great enough that the High Prince considers it pretty much an act of war, and he's given me an ultimatum or he's going to march on the Realm with enough forces to subjugate us all, Gifted or no!"

"That wasn't my fault!" Markus roared, rousing Sable in the corner and prompting her back onto her feet, where she stayed a rational distance from the menacing arm. "I didn't even know Hadrian had laid the egg, much less that it hatched! You have to believe me!"
Denahlia moaned and let her face drop into her hands. Every encounter with Markus seemed to undo all her efforts at setting up a normal life, and make things so much worse! "Markus," she spoke in measured tones, "Where is Hadrian now?"

To her chagrin, her cousin only shrugged. "She flew off as soon as we crossed the boundary again, her and the Wyrmling. My guess is that she's going to find somewhere in this dimension that's reasonably safe to bond with her offspring, before returning to the Elves of her own volition. Dragons don't like to be under someone else's compulsion. If they follow someone else, it's entirely their own choice."
"Well this dragon and her drive for independence," Velora spat, "just might cost one of my Rangers his life, and make war with the Elves a very real possibility! What do you say to that?"
Markus pinched his lips and huffed. "I say--" He stopped abruptly, as if suddenly unable to speak. He blinked in confusion.
"What is it?" Denahlia asked.

Markus spoke, but his voice was hollow. "We've got more important threats than a diplomatic incident on our hands," he said.
"A man's life is more than a diplomatic incident!" Velora complained.
Markus wasn't just trading barbs anymore. "And a King or Queen's life is more than a Ranger's, wouldn't you say?" he challenged.
Velora blanched. "What?"

Markus turned to Denahlia. "That job I told you about earlier?" he hinted. "The clock just went on it."
Denahlia raised an eyebrow. "Meaning?"
"Meaning the assassin must fulfill the assignment within twenty-four hours or he's next on the hit list."
Denahlia swore as Velora furrowed her brow in alarm. "What job? What assassin?"

The Harbor Watch was already deploying messages to the White Castle garrison and to Hayden at the harborside, while preparing her own arsenal to bring with her up to the castle. She loaded her twin pistols and slipped them into the holsters on her hips. "Markus got wind of a black market hire, someone commissioned to murder one of the royals."

"Not specifically murder," Markus corrected. "There's something important they have to retrieve, and they must use any means to get it--including murder."
"Not on my watch!" Denahlia smiled and her eyes gleamed in the fading twilight. "We've got to get up here."

Markus nodded, adjusting the hood of his jacket. "I'll go with you. I know what to look for--"

"No," Denahlia put a hand on his shoulder, and held his gaze. With a low voice, she said, "Hayden means well, but he can be too trusting, and there are just too many things that I don't altogether trust right now. I need you to stay here, sync up with my tech like you know how to do, and watch over the Harbor till we get back."

Markus huffed and glared his disappointment, but his cousin didn't budge, so he stepped back with a shrug. "Fine, I'll wait here."

Denahlia tapped the side of her head, and she felt the electronic connection buzzing just under her skin. A glance from Markus told her he felt the same thing. She nodded to him and smiled. "I'll be in touch."

Velora fell in behind the dark-haired woman, her frustration at losing Gavin set almost fully aside. "I'll come along," she said. Turning to the wolf, she ordered, "Sable, alert the pack. We must defend the castle tonight."
The wolf gave a short yip in response and vanished into the lengthening shadows.

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