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Rated: ASR · Chapter · Fantasy · #1678254
In which Layla is questioned about the Princess' disappearance & is offered an ultimatum.
Layla could tell that she was somewhere on the top floor of Hirest because of the damp heat. The heat reminded her of when she was a young murnah in Vauryan, the village of her birth, which laid to the far east of castle Hirest. Layla’s earliest memories were of the summer nights when the heat was so unbearable, Layla could hardly breathe. On nights like those, her mother would stay up and complain about how bright the sun was, and would pray to the god Nirmac that he could use his black cape to cover the sky and perhaps even bring some rain.

A voice Layla did not recognize told her to be seated, in the name of Electors Crierlown, Shirestone, Swart and Skier. The chair was as hard as stone, smooth and cold to the touch. She imagined that it was the same shiny white marble that made up all of the castle’s inner walls, just as Dansil used to describe.

“Layla?” said a familiar voice.

“Lokan!” Layla said. The young boy was seated right beside her. The stable boy had a shake in his voice that couldn’t escape Layla’s ears. She knew he was frightened.

“Do you know what’s going on?” he asked.

“We’re by the Electorium, aren’t we?” Layla asked.

Lokan turned towards the door. The entrance was eleven feet high, and a little more than half that in width. The wood was a purple that was so pure, it looked like it had been carved from the earth vein itself.

“We are,” the stable boy answered.

“We’re going to be questioned about Princess Dansil. Is there anyone else here?” asked Layla.

“Two royal guards. I saw High Elector Crierlown stumble into the Electorium before. I think the other Electors are in there as well. Layla,” the stable boy paused. “Are we in trouble?”

“I don’t know,” Layla said.

Voices echoed up from the deep halls. Layla could pinpoint the voices and the conversations before Lokan or the royal guards could even hear them coming.

“Donna and Rim,” the Layla said. “They’re coming.”

Layla chose to leave out how Rim threatened to smash in the guard’s steel toe boots in if he pushed him again, and how Donna would do the same or worse, tell her father that the guards had mishandled her. Layla decided to save Lokan the stress of knowing that his friends were riling up the guards.

“They’re in trouble, too?” Lokan asked.

“You can say that,” Layla said.

Rim appeared first. Though the doorway at the top of the stairwell was well over eight feet tall, Rim ducked out of habit. The boy was six feet tall and weighed close to 25 stone. His jaw jutted from an under bite, and his small eyes were hidden beneath his shaggy, dirty brown hair. The moment Rim laid eyes on Layla and Lokan, his under bite shifted into a dumb grim.

“Ey Donna, Lo and La are up here!” he said.

A guard followed Rim onto the upper floor, and was followed by Donna. The thirteen year old girl looked like she had been carved out of ice. Her movements were stiff and her gaze was cold. Her index and thumb froze to the oak tree pin that was fixed across her heart. The young girl grabbed the pin out of habit whenever she was afraid, but not even her closest friends knew this. She had very short dark hair that was slicked back and resembled a hedgehog’s back.

“What are we doing here?” Donna muttered irritably.

One of the Royal Guards who stood beside the Electorium gave the hefty door one hard knock and called out, “They’re all here, Electors.”

The door to the Electorium opened slowly. A chiseled hand covered in thick veins appeared at the edge of the door and pulled it the rest of the way open. Elector Shirestone stood in the doorway and gave each of the four children a stern look that made even Rim shiver.

“All here, are we? Good. You’re going to come in one by one and answer our questions. Got it?” the Elector said.

“I’m not going anywhere until I know what’s going on here,” Donna said. She held her pin so tight her fingers went white.

“You’ll find out in a few minutes.” The Elector pointed at Lokan first, and the stable boy’s heart nearly exploded in his chest. “You first,” the Elector said. He curled his finger, inviting the stable boy into the Electorium.

The thick doors to the Electorium closed behind Shirestone, allowing little to no sound to go into or out of the room.

“Urgh, I’m tired of being pulled around like some ass. Why are we here!?” Rim said.

“Shh,” Layla said. She could feel Shirestone and Lokan’s footsteps as they moved further into the Electorium. There were more voices in the Electorium. Sid and Shirestone. They asked Lokan about Princess Dansil. Layla could swear that she felt the stable boy’s heart racing faster with every passing moment.

“It’s probably nothing that bad, right? I mean, my dad would have said something to me if it was something really bad…” Donna said.

“Guys be quiet, please!” Layla said. She placed her fingers onto the door of Electorium and felt the vibrations of the room’s sounds fill her fingertips. The voices came in clearer now. Inside a female voice, Elector Swart, just told Lokan that the Princess had gone missing. The young stable boy replied with an unintelligible sound of disbelief.

“Dansil ran away. She’s somewhere in the Southlands,” Layla told her friends. “They think we might be responsible.”

“What?” Donna exclaimed.

“She went to the Southlands and didn’t invite me?” Rim stubbornly crossed his arms over his chest. “She’s gone south.”

“Literally, yes. So you guys don’t know why she left?” asked Layla.

“Us? She’s your best friend. Shouldn’t you know?” said Donna.

Layla shook her head.

Lokan left the Electorium an hour after he had entered. By the time the Electors were done with the boy, his cheeks and chin were slick from tears and mucus. Towards the end of the interrogation, he was reduced to crying “I don’t know, I just don’t know!” over and over again. Rim was the next to be questioned and, to the Electors dismay, he knew even less than his friend Lokan did about the Princess’ whereabouts. For all Rim knew, she had good relations with everyone and had no reason to leave. When it was Donna’s turn, she said much the same, adding that her father was in the Royal Guard and she had heard of no threats to the Kingdom from him or any of his fellow guardsmen.

Layla was the last to be interrogated.

The Electorium had a different feel to it than the hall. Where the hall was hot and damp, the Electorium was windy and pleasant. She felt as if she were standing on the edge of a mountain with the sun hot on her face. The inside of the Electorium was truly the work of the south. The walls were painted an array of colors, with a portrait on the ceiling of the twelve gods. In the center of the ceiling was Seuro’s face, his eyes as bright as gold coins and each tooth in his grinning mouth as bright as the sun. Playing within Seuro’s wild red hair was Dren, who wore a cloak made of ravens that stretched across the ceiling and dispersed, and Odalio, who wore umbilical chords for fashion. The painting depicted the twins Nirmac and Nedra standing back to back, Nirmac lost in thought and Nedra coddling the scaly fin that made up her lower body. The god Caelic was posed awkwardly, bent over as if in pain. His torso and limbs were as thin as a lance, and contorted in different directions. The artists of the painting were able to capture Caelic’s movements brilliantly- the god looked as if he were running fast enough to best Eastarian steeds. The lazy Rouldro laid on his back, while the delicate Legvalia sat on his stomach, her hands outstretched over her head yawning. Firna sat within a fire pit with his mouth wide open, drinking in the flames. Affinia stood not far away. Her luscious breasts were exposed and bare, and though the painting was on hard stone, her curves looked soft to the touch. On either sides of the ceiling were the gods Ton and Zazzahrial. The hatred in their eyes as they stared across the room at one another was indisputable. Where Ton’s lips were as flat as the side of a sword, Zazzahrial’s curled with a smile that mocked the other god.

One couldn’t walk without hitting into a chair. There were no two chairs alike, and each one was exceptionally colorful. It was believed that the bright colors and comfortable chairs would stimulate the Electors’ minds.

“You brought us the Princess’ friends but none know why she left,” Shirestone said.

“Princess Dansil maybe knew something that all of us didn’t,” Layla said. “Or she left because she was bored.”

“Yes, we’ve mulled over all these tiresome thoughts before, murnah. They didn’t help us then and they’re not helping us now. Is there anything you’re not telling us?” the Elector said.

“I’m telling you all I know. Honest,” Layla said.

“The King won’t like that,” Shirestone said. “I don’t like when the King isn’t pleased.”

“I’m truly sorry, Elector Shirestone. But I can’t tell what I do not know,” Layla said.

“True, but you will know soon enough. That is, if you value your life,” the Elector said.

Layla felt pins and needles crawl up her neck. “Pardon me, Elector?”

“I said that you will find out more about the Princess’ disappearance. Any lack of efforts from you that can cause the Crown direct harm will be seen as treasonous, and we hang traitors.”

Layla could feel the other Electors shift in their seats. The pleasantness of the Electorium was gone and had been replaced with anxiety and dread.

“That goes for your friends, too,” Shirestone said. His voice was cold and monotonous. “I’m not sure why the Princess choose to hang around you stillborns, but I do know that if four children die a kingdom will not shed a tear. I was told to get leads for my King. You were my lead and you lead me nowhere. Fix that.”

When Layla left the Electorium, she couldn’t keep her body from shaking. Rim placed his large hands on her shoulders, which gave her some comfort.

“They got to you good, didn’t they?” he asked.

She didn’t have the strength to answer him. The tears came then, hard and relentless, and she crashed into Rim’s chest, hiding her face in his wool shirt. His hands hovered over her, awkwardly, until they found the courage to go against her back.

“It’s going to be okay now,” Rim said.

But Layla knew better than that. She had unknowingly given her closest friends a death sentence.
© Copyright 2010 S. F. Lombardi (earthveinsaga at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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