The Chellion Days

13.

  Sleep only lasted a blissful hour or so. When shaken awake by Jarn, Ackerley jumped out of bed, much to his and Jarn’s surprise. The thought of what happened the night before gave him such a refreshing feeling that lack of sleep couldn’t even make him feel tired. Going on further secret missions with Cerise filled his imagination all day. There were bound to be countless things hidden away in that castle just waiting for a couple curious youths to find them. He imagined numerous tunnels and secret rooms that led all over the kingdom as well as monsters and ghouls that probably hadn’t seen the light of day in millennia. He went so far as to wish that the castle had been built to cover up a passage to an unknown world far beneath the ground where all sorts of creatures dwelled. It was too much fun and eventually he came back to reality to find himself bored out of his mind with his tasks. At least Cerise still hadn’t found her pendant. That would at least give him one more adventure to look forward to.

  Days passed and there was no sign of Cerise wanting to continue her search. Everyday Ackerley waited for a secret note or for her to suddenly appear somewhere and say she wanted another crack at the fourth floor and Chellion. He began to worry that Thrindle had somehow found out and punished her. His worry intensified after the next fancy dinner.

  The dinner itself was lacking compared to usual. The food wasn’t nearly as good or as plentiful as it usually was. Jarn mentioned that he had never seen so little food. Long before Ackerley arrived the dinners had been even more extravagant and that they’d been slowly dropping off for a long time.

  The dance followed as usual and it was here where Ackerley feared Thrindle. Cerise sat motionless in the corner as she always did. However, this time she didn’t even look at Ackerley. She kept her eyes peeled to the floor for the entire dance while the harpy looked menacingly around as though she expected someone to jump out and scare her.

  Thrindle must have found something out. Ackerley wondered what that meant for Cerise, probably countless hours of meditation.

  “No googly eyes at the princess?” Jarn said as they walked through the gardens after the dance. It was easier to see that night as a few lanterns flared nearby.

  “What—oh I don’t know. We don’t exactly hang out.”

  “You must be going somewhere at night.”

  “I just like to wander around. Do you think all the fancy dinners will be that bad?” Ackerley asked, changing the subject.

  “There have been a lot of changes since I’ve been here.” Jarn explained, waving at a man who was busy trimming a bush. “When I first got here we had a task where we all had to help knit a giant banner that professed our love for Chell. It was weird. The dinners were better; the nobles weren’t so crazy. Maybe that’s just me reminiscing. The tasks were a lot more structured. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but people are getting away with talking during reading. Craith used to be stricter than he is now.”

  Ackerley hadn’t noticed. The last few times he had reading he spent his time imagining great adventures. “Maybe they’re just tired of enforcing the rules.”

  “I guess, but you have to really think about why we’re even here.”

  “To escape the war.”

  “No, I told you before; they want to mold us into better citizens.” Jarn sat down on the edge of the large round pool of water in the center of the gardens. “When the king, or whoever, decided to send us here the nobility in Chell feared that us kiddies weren’t going to become civilized Chells during the war. They feared the influence of the barbarians. Of course they thought they could destroy all the Welgos in a matter of months. Their first priority was making sure we were taught the way the nobility was. They wanted us to be able to spew out Chell lore and be able to talk about how great the place is. They teach us in all the ways a good Chell should be taught. We read classic literature, we copy old books to new books, we meditate so the Great Spirit will love us. You know, all this stuff.”

  “Yeah, but also to keep us safe.”

  “I really believe that was their second priority.”

  Ackerley sat beside Jarn and ran his hand through the cold water. “I’m here to be kept safe, I know that.”

  Jarn didn’t say anything for a while. He stared out at the castle and sighed. “You know what?” He said finally. “I often wonder if Welgos would be able to get in here. I wonder why they’ve never tried.” He looked over to Ackerley. “Your brother wrote my dad’s letter, didn’t he?”

  Ackerley scoffed. “What? Why would he do that?”

  “You don’t have to hide it. Every time I get a letter it’s in a different hand. I saw the letter your brother wrote, the secret one. I shouldn’t have been snooping, but when you were out one night I found it under your bed.”

  “I’m sorry.” Was all Ackerley could think to say. “I’m sure your dad just told him what to say.”

  “No, he didn’t. My dad’s not one for writing, or telling the truth, or even being a good warrior. I know that things aren’t going well. Your brother’s letter was pretty scary, huh?” He laughed nervously. “The Vastlands are gone. The manor region’s next. If they’ve done that much then there’s no telling what else they would do. That’s going to really mess things up here. Every noble who ever lived was from the manor region. So are most of us.” He folded his arms and shivered. “Oh well, who needs to be thinking of all that? Your brother said that this was the safest place in the kingdom and I believe him.”

  Ackerley splashed some water around, but didn’t say anything.

  Jarn suddenly smiled guiltily. “Guess what else I found?”

  Ackerley didn’t like the look of that smile.

  “I found a certain letter written by—I’m assuming a certain princess.”

  Ackerley felt flustered all of a sudden. “No, you must be joking. That was written by someone else.”

  “Who?”

  Ackerley wasn’t very good under pressure. “Igluoria.”

  Jarn laughed heartily. “There’s no one in the world with that awful name. So where did you go with her? Did you see where she lived? Was it nice?”

  “I haven’t done a thing, and I’m sticking to it.”

  “I’m not going to tell anyone.”

  Ackerley realized that he really wished he had someone to talk to about everything going on, and that included Cerise. He mulled it over and said quietly. “We went to the fourth floor.”

  “The fourth floor?” Jarn whispered excitedly as if just finding out that a mythical paradise existed. “That’s super off limits. I don’t even think there are stairs up there.”

  “There are.” Ackerley said very pompously. “But we took a dumbwaiter like thing instead.”

  “Whoa? And what happened up there?”

  “We met Lord Chellion.”

  “He’s alive?! Or did you meet his rotting corpse?”

  “No, he’s very much alive. He’s sad or something, I don’t know. He doesn’t want to come down for some reason.”

  Jarn put his palms to his forehead and leaned back, almost falling into the water. “That’s just outrageous. You have to take me next time.”

  “Oh, I don’t know.”

  “Just ask her, she might be alright with one more. I’ve lived monotonously here for far too long. I’d do anything to get some excitement going, even if that meant spending the next year with Mr. Jett.”

  “I don’t know if we’ll be doing anything else. I think that handler of hers found out something.”

  Jarn shook his head. “Surely that won’t stop experienced felons like you all, will it? Get back out there and bring me with you.”

  Ackerley wasn’t too sure about bringing Jarn into the mix. He was willing to ask Cerise about if he ever had the chance, but that chance didn’t want to present itself. The first time he saw her since their adventure on the fourth floor, apart from the dances where she ignored him, was one chilly day while he was reading. The pr
incess and Thrindle walked through the cloister as they did the very first time he saw her. She looked just as downtrodden as she did that day.

  She stopped coming to the fancy dinners. Ackerley got so worried that he thought of going up to the fourth floor by himself and asking Lord Chellion to talk to Thrindle. He didn’t know if that would work since he presumed the only two people that had any control over Thrindle were stuck in a castle in the mountains fighting off Welgos.

  Ackerley started to worry that Thrindle would find out that he was involved. He imagined her coming into his room at night with a band of tough ruffians who would drag him outside and catapult him over the wall. He liked the idea of having a great story to tell if he survived, but the whole idea of being thrown out of the castle didn’t appeal to him very much.

  The fear of Thrindle was only a step above the dread he had of going into his room at night. Murdo’s mood deteriorated to the point where he was unbearable to be around. He would randomly tackle Jarn in the halls and somehow disappear before anybody saw him. He had an intense fascination with hitting people over the head and did it as much as he could. Some even said that they saw him pacing the third floor in the middle of the day, either crying or yelling at the walls. Ackerley never wished someone would go to war so much in his life. It was clear the prison idea seeped deeper into his brain. At night Murdo would randomly shout things in his sleep and had a tendency to get up in a rage