The Aegis

“I do not believe that is the most *ahem* appropriate way to spend your eleventh birthday, Elijah. Are you sure?”

“Yeah, but idonwanya to come. You get too emotional, it’s embarrassing!” replied Elijah. Alden Hould looked past his son and bit his lip for a moment. He looked back up with a smile and patted his heir on the head.

“Alright, but Vadir comes with you instead. It is too close to the Rosarin territory.” He turned to the man standing to hid right, leaning against the wall, eyes darting to different locations in the full room. 

“Vadir-“ the man stood up straight and faced the king. “Would you mind escorting young Elijah to Daff Hill? I believe he wishes to see his brother.” The king smirked at the motion, but the silent man stayed sound and nodded. 

“Come along.”

Vadir stepped out of the carriage into the muck with his cuffed officer’s boot and held the door open for the prince. He peered out into the plains of Daff Hill; a few slinking, dead trees still gripped their roots into the endless mud surrounded by surprising patches of green grass. The sky was a pale yellow, not encouraging for mid-afternoon. They had pulled up in front of the long ironwork fence and the ornate gate at the middle. Statues of roaring gargoyles stood on the sides of the gate. Trying to keep the souls in their graves still, Vadir thought, slightly grinning. Unfortunately, not a person of his company would appreciate this detail, despite the pitiful laughs they would of course give. Sometimes it was not as amusing being treated as royalty.

Elijah jumped from his seat, landing with a roll in the mud and his brand new mock military uniform. “C’mon!”

Sinking in the back of his mind about how the laundry maid will hassle him for not keeping his ward clean for one day, Vadir closed the door. He arched his shoulders with his hands in his pockets, trying to shield himself from the burning icy gusts. Each pebble rustled even with his light steps as they always did here. Whistling would have been impolite to the rest of the souls buried here, but not to the grave of the man they were visiting. The captain started whistling the tune of Elijah’s old favorite lullaby.  It was a little jaunty, with a few falling slurs.

The young prince stopped running in front of a griffin-topped effigy. Years of environmental stress had chipped away the creature’s facial expression, but it was supposed to be one of protection. Too many legends have risen from this little statue, thought Vadir. 

He remembered a few years prior where the greatest storm in half a century was coming, and the local villages left their homes to stay at the cemetery. It was not as though the landscape of Daff Hill (which was not a hill at all) would be beneficial to the people, but they believed praying to statue with the dead prince’s face engraved would protect them. A royal announcement had been sent out to offer underground shelter to keep from the elements, but every resident rebuffed. They staked out in the graveyard for three days, sat through the storm, had no real shelter or necessities, and after the storm every inhabitant of the village walked home perfectly healthy. 

The years after the storm are marked by the grave by presents and offerings left for the dead prince. Some were basic incense; leaving grace and hoping the peace would pass unto them. A couple who miscarried brought children’s toys, believing a passage between the two worlds existed at this site. A child who left hand-crocheted sweaters for her parents, killed by the war, did the same for his grave. 

Vadir disliked Elijah having to see all this attention given to his brother’s grave by people neither he nor his brother knew. Growing up in the shadow of a dead man, especially the shadow of tall tales, could not build strong character. He always managed to steer the prince’s attention so that it appeared as if many people merely liked, not worshipped, the deceased royal son.

The captain still had a while to catch up, whistling the comforting, uplifting melody in a field of dead men, mostly lost from a vicious war that most headline-ingly took the favorite son’s life.

“Here it is,” Elijah breathed. He gaped at the headstone like one would a hero.  Eyes wide, arms and shoulders drooped, he appeared as though a short wind would knock him down. With Vadir now behind him, he leaned back into his stomach. Vadir laid a comforting hand on the child’s right shoulder while they stood staring at the engraving:

“Our Prince,

Issaiah Vadir Hould

    Taken from us.

May the Afterlife Be

The Paradise He Deserves”

Below was an etching of a stern-looking young man, no older than twenty-five. 

“He always hated that picture. Miss Livian told me,” Elijah pouted. “Me too; it’s just not him.” The two stood in the shrieking wind in silence for a moment or so.

“I miss him a lot,” started Elijah. “I know I was really little when it happened, but I remember him.” “He loved you,” Vadir said, squeezing the sprouting boy’s shoulder, and ignoring the troubled timeline he believed in. “You know that, right?” He felt very fortunate to have his face hidden when tears started traveling across his cheekbones and down to his jaw.

“Yeah… Do you think he knew I would miss him?” the birthday boy inquired his traveling companion.

“He knows,” the ageless man murmured. 

The wind shrieked again. But wind does not shriek, creatures shriek into it. A chill that by definition was not cold hit the captain, and as much as he would like to let the prince take in as much as he could, Daff Hill was no longer safe at the moment for a member of the Hould family.

“We need to get going, now,” Vadir told Elijah.

“But I–“

“This isn’t the time, we must leave.” Too close to Rosaria, thought Vadir. But there was no need to worry a child this young about the war aftermath. 

Elijah continued to stare at his brother’s grave, oblivious to the fact that it was empty. He doesn’t need to know yet, Vadir thought. There’s years for the truth to be told.

The captain tugged on the shoulder of the prince’s uniform.

"There's gotta be more than water and dirt in this," Elijah groaned, "And I don't wanna know what!"

Occasionally tripping over objects he could not see, the prince became more irritated with each step. 

Not that any of this slowed Vadir. He kept a fast pace, anticipating obstacles as if this unworn path were memorized.

"So, where are we going again?" Elijah hollered from behind. "Not that this isn't a grand adventure or anything, but you know I'm not really the outdoorsy type!" No response, but he would not be ignored so easily.

"Well, I'm sure we'll find a nice joint out here," Elijah started up gain at the top of his voice. "Concierge for all our luggage, a nice heated and indoor lap pool, ornate sculptures across a historic library, a mud bath in their spa - that's really what sets them apart, right? A well-staffed day spa. Oh, I can't wait to exchange the mud here for some fine mineral - AEGH!" Elijah ran into a sour faced captain, unaware that he had stopped walking.

"We're headed to a safehouse. It will be a bit further, but we're catching a ride."

Seeing the prince was satisfied with a response, he continued leading on his invisible path. Elijah wasn't sure he appreciated being cut off from his fantasy hotel, but decided not to press Vadir while in his current state.

"And a fur rug sprawled in front of a fireplace, the size of another room…" muttered Elijah to himself. 

As the hour passed, so did the land. Still stuck in fog, the ground was finally flat and solid with a light layer of sand. No trees were around but dark shadows suggested there were some hills in the distance. The rippling sounds of a wide river next to them, traveling along, was calming. 

"You're going to hate me," Elijah sighed, "But are we there yet?"

"Our ride will be here in a moment. Just up these steps."

The prince questioned those words until he caught up with his companion. Sure enough, past the thick fog, was a metal staircase - leading into more fog.

They climbed the steps and found themselves on an empty platform connected to a bridge, presumably going across the rider. The wind shipped across their faces, bringing some of the river to greet them. Elijah was unable to tell more than ten feet  ahead of him, and as far as he could tell they were all that existed aside form the mist. Had he not felt so confident with theta Captain, that thought would have been unsettling. He tried not to let the vision of Vadir's bleeding side ruin that imagined security.

"Did you hear that?!" Elijah asked suddenly. "What was that screech? What else is up here?!"

As the sound of metals grinding together escalated, the platform shook with the weight of something heavy. The piercing grew louder and the floor rattled. The source was approaching.

Elijah looked to Vadir for guidance, but the captain seemed at ease. The prince closed his eyes, and felt all his senses at once; his heart that frantically pumped blood across his system and throbbed behind his eyes, perspiration quickly cooled with the weather and slid on his skin. Thinking this was definitely the end, all the exterior phenomena halted with a mechanical exhale.

"Now boarding," sang a monotone, disembodied voice.

Elijah slowly peaked; a train had pulled up to them, the front hidden in the low-level clouds across the bridge.

"Really," the prince started calmly, and looked over to Vadir. "You couldn't warn me? You couldn't tell me it was a train?! No head's up for THAT one, eh?! You take pleasure in watching me squirm, do you?!"

The cool granite counter comforted Issaiah's throbbing forehead. Laying his head forward may have been a slight nuisance to his bending nose, but his scattered mind could not imagine a better solution after the night he just had. The morning's sunbeams bled into the room, warming his back with yesterday's freshly-stained shirt on. 

"Salut!" Cal cheered as he slammed a glass on the countertop. "You'd best shape up before my sister gets down here and sees you like this. She'll kill you this time, mate." He walked past the counter and sat at the table near the window, his shadow overcast next to Issaiah. 

Issaiah rolled his head back, almost staring at the ceiling, and glared at his cheery friend. "At least I'd be out of this hangover." He stretched out with a huge yawn and shook out his stiff back. 

"What's in this?" Issaiah asked crossly, pointing to the glass in front of him.

"The cure - drink up."

"Straw." 

Issaiah's eyes were at best half-open, but he could see his friend's shadow shift and then a straw was in the drink. Resting his head on his hand, Issaiah fished for the straw and sipped on.

"I can't believe you," a soprano voice came from the stairway. Issaiah didn't have to look up to recognize his sister's voice; Christine's vocal chords had been publicly portrayed as one from the heavens, but with nagging in his near future, Issaiah only heard a voice of a harpy. 

"You got wrecked last night? You know Livvy hates being left behind!" Christine turned to her brother's friend. "And you! You were supposed to watch him!"

"Hey, I was busy looking out for you!" Cal protested. "When are you ever going to join us in the fun?"

"In your dreams," she drew out word by word.

"Are you sure they're not yours?" Cal responded in a deep, cheesy tone. His face held a slimy grin. 

"Callum, you only show up in my nightmares!" Christine teased and started rustling in the fridge for her breakfast. "She'll kill you this time, brother."

"So I hear," Issaiah mumbled to himself. With a deep sigh he spoke at an audible tone, "Ya' know she's the one who decided to continue her studies. She completed everything she needs to, this is her sick idea of fun."

"She probably wants to make sure her future is secured," Christine chimed.

"Sis, we've been betrothed since she was 5 years old. Our future is set; we don't have to worry about anything! Besides, the extra courses she's taking are directed towards medicine. What, is she going to leave town and tend to the rustics? It's way beyond acceptable protocol!"

"I'm just saying, Zsai - what if it doesn't work out?" Christine looked towards her brother with a scrunched expression. "You should stop pushing her as much as you do."

'Are you saying you 'eard something?" Issaiah stared back, straw stuck in the corner of his mouth.

"No! Nothing like that," Christine blushed. "Just be nice to her so she doesn't hate you before you even get married!"

"Morning sis!" Cal called out a little too loud. The other set of siblings whipped their heads over to see Livian coming out of the stairway. She raised her brow at her enthusiastic brother.

"Hey…" she murmured, and poured herself a glass of juice. Her crisp school clothes beamed in the sunlight, nearly blinding Issaiah so he returned to the call of his proclaimed "cure."

"So where was the party?" Livian said lightly, not looking up from her glass. Both boys avoided eye contact. "The Vine? Matheaux's flat? The Terrip boys' place?" 

Issaiah slowly got up. "Liv, we wish you could've come but-"

"But you just can't wait until graduation?" she snapped. "It's just a month away, but whatever. I have to head out," and she stormed to the stairway.

"Dammit," Issaiah muttered. He spit out his straw and chased after her. Just as she was at a corner of the spiral, Issaiah caught up and cut her off. Tears already rolled off her face.

"Hey, hey," he cooed. He started to hold her but she shoved him away.

"You reek!' she spat, scowling at him. "I can't believe you - you capsized last night! That stuff will ruin you!"

"Let's not make it about that, hon," Issaiah continued his attempt to pacify her. Livian was able to regain control of her face, but her cold glower made Issaiah back off.

"I can't deal with this today," she said. After a few steps up the stairs she looked back. "We can talk after class, I guess," she added, and sprinted up the stairs.