Page 1 of Down from the Tower
Part 1:
Kingdom of Gold
Prologue
Trapped beneath stone so cold, only here can power hold. From the stone will blades arise, to reap the soul’s last surprise. From the darkness can come light, to reap the soul’s final goodbye.
~ Shadow Man
“I’m betting the Mad Queen is getting ready to chop off more heads.”
Looking down at my friend's little sister, I can’t help wondering when she became such a cynic. Her musings drag me from the fog in my brain, bringing me back to the present where the rhyme is little more than distant memory. I’ve never figured out the meaning of it, even if I’m trapped here in the middle of it right now. The person who shared it with me never came back, and it’s one of my forever questions about what I am. Of what all four of us are.
Listening to Elsie share gossip from the tavern doesn’t help, not when every rumor is tainted with lies and tricks.
Leaning back against the exterior wall of the tavern, I eye the moon. Nothing’s passed by for quite some time, so any of the Queen’s lurkers can’t be that close by tonight. With everything going on, she needs to keep her supporters closer than ever.
“Do you think she’ll send the Flowerborne?” Elsie goes on, trying and failing to take the cigar from her brother. She’s far too young and she only pouts at him when he holds it out of reach.
I huff, blocking out the teens' antics. I’m trying to glean something from the whispers that pass through the tavern nightly, listening for news of the Mad Queen. Anything to hint at what to do next.
Her actions cursed us to this life, and the shadow man left us to rot in it. I still don’t understand why out of the thousands she’s killed on her path to power, we were chosen for this existence.
There’s enough dissent in Mystica. The kingdoms are largely divided, and walled-off domains like Tressa and Thornton Palace do nothing for the civilians suffering and dying in places like Sherwood. The tavern might be a haven among hell, but the danger is out there just beyond the trees. If we could find a way to end her reign…
“You’re stewing,” Raymundo says, piping up finally to add to the chat. He’s busy twirling his stone-tipped arrows, the ones fashioned from the stone that killed us. His bow is slung over his back, and as his fingers twist I vaguely catch the outline of the clovers scarred into his palms, mirroring the spades on the backs of my hands.
I shoot Ray a look, hoping he lets it be. I’m struggling with what I have to deal with next, and journeying to the southernmost kingdom in Mystica isn’t high on my to-do list.
“She never sends them down to the ground,” Raymundo says, eyeing me as he tugs at the hood. He’s hiding, as he always does, in the doorway to the tavern. Elsie glares up at him, but he’s already dropped the smoke and snuffed it out with his boot. “What do you think they are looking for now? Even the flyers are upset with changes in the wind.”
“They can’t be looking for us,” I grumble, watching the figures. The flyers float like butterflies but are unnaturally large, and when the moonlight catches their wings just right you can see the impression of hearts creating a pattern in the sky. “Queenie doesn’t care about the Reapers anymore.”
“You can’t call a murderous Queen Queenie,” Elsie says, looking between us. “Ray, tell him to be serious!”
My longtime friend glances at me, and the weight of our conversation returns. Before Elsie came out here hoping I’d sneak her a smoke, we were discussing the latest issue amongst the kingdoms.
Ray clears his throat, looking down at his sister. She’s going to be a handful later on. “Elsie, go inside. We need to talk.”
“I came out here because it’s so hot inside,” she grumbles, rolling her eyes. “And I lost the game tonight, so I’ve got dish duty.”
“Yes you did,” Ray replies, a soft fondness entering his voice that’s reserved only for his family. “Go on, get back in there before Genevieve comes looking for you. We don’t want Ma getting worried either.”
She shoots us a look, tugging at the shawl thrown over her shoulders before huffing and going back inside. The door to The Missing Shoe bangs shut behind her, and Ray blows out a breath before turning to me.
“I heard Midas is planning to meet with Arthur of Camelot again,” Ray says, raising a brow. “He’s going back more and more frequently.”
“If you think the Golden King is going to strike a deal with Camelot, you’re delusional.”
But Ray doesn’t look like he’s joking. He’s always been the most rational of us four, even if he cracks just as many jokes to try and make things more comfortable for the rest of us. “You know there hasn’t been a single spirit that called from the Golden Kingdom since before we became Reapers. Really, thirty something years and not a single person has died? We both know that’s bullshit. So what does that mean for Tressa?”
I quirk a brow, staring out at the sky again. The butterfly is gone, and I doubt we’ll see it again. No one is sure what the Queen is looking for, much less what she’ll do when she finds it. It’s not us, and it sure isn't the kingdom of Tressa if they are searching over here.
“It’s unusual,” Raymundo mutters. “Aren’t spirits supposed to pass on? Why is Midas keeping everyone trapped?”
“You’re obsessing,” I tell him, looking out over the clearing. A few happy drunks teeter on their feet, content with the safety that the tavern provides. “Tressa isn’t even in your territory.”
“Have you ever checked the Golden Kingdom?” he continues, annoyed. “No one gets over the wall without approval from the King. And we both know he would never give a Reaper that.”