Chapter Twelve

A Chapter by firabelle

I hit the floor and scuttled to the edge of the room, stripping off the daggers in my boots and at my waist. He didn’t say anything at all; I assumed that he was just making out with Orenda. The floor was a tiled fresco, making slight imprints as I army-crawled for my life. (It occurred to me, quite randomly, that my gym teacher would be very proud that I could actually move this fast. Normally, I only tried as much as I had to unless someone was depending on me to do a decent job.)

I finally made it out of the huge lemon-wedge-shaped room and darted onto my feet. Just as I turned the corner, (nearly slipping on the floor), Lightning arced from beneath the doorway and up the wall right across the hall. It reminded me of a De Graaff Electrostatic generator, with the bands of energy visibly reflecting off the walls.

My eyebrows scrunched towards the center of my face in confusion; that energy should be burning the wall, or making noise at the very least. Curiously, cautiously, carefully, I approached the lightning, and lifted my hands towards it. There was no light coming off of it! A stray chortle escaped my lips; it was only a trick! I spun on my heel playfully to face Orenda and ‘his majesty’, who were pretty close to not having any clothes on at all.

“Hey!” I yelled. They didn’t notice me, so I opened my mouth again. “Yo! A*s-hat!”

That certainly got his attention. A*s-hat looked up, a murderous look etched into the creases of his face. Hmm. I guess he didn’t like being pulled away from his girl-toy. His lips were shaped into a baleful sneer aimed right at my heart. “You are replaceable, weakling- do not think that I will consider before ending your useless life.”

I couldn’t keep a straight face! A twiggy smile danced along my lips, pulling the corners up into a mischievous smile. “Kill me, then,” I taunted him.

Both he and Orenda sat there, stunned at my foolhardy bravery. Now the harmless ‘lightning’ connected to my body while I stood, awaiting their response. “Nothing?” I asked innocently. “Good.”

“Not so fast,” he said.

I stopped, and slightly turned my head to face him. “What, then?” I asked.

He sighed. “Orenda, would you explain, my dearest?”

She giggled girlishly. “It would be an honor, your majesty.”

I cut her off with a frosty glare. Orenda cleared her throat awkwardly. “Greek gods are not the only gods in this land,” she said stiffly. “No, all of the greek gods exist.”

I stifled a stray scrap of laughter that threatened to burst from my lips. ALL THE GODS. She sounded like a white girl! (The stereotype, that is…)

She continued. “Of course, we aren’t the immortal beings depicted in ancient frescoes or cave paintings; we’re just people that are extraordinary.”

I pursed my lips. “So you are gods, but you aren’t?”

She shook her head, apparently exasperated beyond belief by my obvious stupidity. “No, no, no. I-” Orenda paused.

‘His Majesty’, (I called him this because I had nothing else to call him, unfortunately. Though, I could give him a nasty little name of my own…), touched her lightly on her shoulder, then looked at me. “It is a title, passed down from one to another.”

“Yeah, but how does any of this involve me? I’m just a kinda-sorta poor kid from Dublin.”

He chewed on his lip, and whispered something in Orenda’s ear. She shrugged and murmured something back. He nodded and looked back at me. “You’ve been chosen by another, what would you call it?” he asked Orenda quietly. She shrugged again. “Well, the Irish ‘Queen’,” he made quotes around Queen, “has died, and needs to be replaced,” he said cautiously.

I looked at the two of them, huddled on one huge throne. “What are you getting at, here?”

“They choose from the top few thousand in the non-magical world, then watch them for a few years. This is, of course, before something that actually happens. Anyways, they pick the top twenty-five after getting to know them extremely well. Then, they are brought here.”

I waved my hands for him to stop. “Hold on for a sec. Then, if they picked me, shouldn’t I be over with the Irish deities or people or whatever the hell they are?”

He nodded. “Well, things went a bit awry, I suppose. The Lost Boys intercepted a message from the Tales that they had spotted you and had seen something that they liked a whole lot.”

“Tales? Lost Boys?” I interjected, confused beyond reason.

“Later,” he answered, determined to fill me in on what he deemed important. “Anyways, they told us as soon as they knew what was going on, and worked with Phoebe’s Hunters to make sure you got to the right part of Fableland safely. The Irish may not be our favorite, but they certainly are better than some.”

“Sooo…. What’s our next move?” I asked.

He got up to his feet, making Orenda get up as well. “I need to get you there, otherwise it’s my head on a pike. I won’t risk my reputation on someone like you.”

As he walked over to the staircase, I finally got a look at what he was wearing. He had a stormy-gray cloak and gold trimmings. The same color scheme held true for the rest of his nearly gaudy outfit. He stood out in sharp relief to the white walls, like a gold-speckled storm cloud against puffy marshmallow-clouds. Orenda stood out even more- her skin was beautiful, the color of pitch and ebony, her clothes a rich purple trimmed in silver.

I felt a little out of place, with my simpler clothes, but it made me different in a good way. “When are we leaving?” I asked.

“Now,” he said, striding for the door. I looked around, and followed him to wherever he was taking me. Unfortunately, I had no choice but to trust this mysterious douchebag.

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