Alabaster Emissaries
Alabaster Emissaries
Table of Contents
Legal
Opening / Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
Part Six
Part Seven
Part Eight
Part Nine
Alabaster Emissaries
©2013 by Sylvan Scott
Queen Allasande—reigning Monarch of the Alabaster Throne, Divine Provost of the Heississian Order, Defender of Sallast, Overseer of the Grey Demesne, August Sagacity of the Golden Temple, and High Protector of all Kellen—had gone missing at the Mall of America. The indoor amusement park at its center was bedlam. Clouds of black fog, deep as the most unloving night, drifted between rides. Mall security and the Bloomington police were doing their best to move the panicked crowds away from the turmoil. Animal control was on the scene, piercing the shroud in an attempt to corral the rampaging umbral mastiffs. Castori Phane, the Royal Master of the Hunt, was nowhere to be seen. Anthony hoped he wasn’t hurt.
Not badly hurt.
Not in a debilitating way, at any rate.
Castori suffering some bruises wouldn’t be unwelcome even if Anthony didn’t know whether or not he even could bruise.
Wiste ran up the disabled escalators. His clockwork mask was askew but still managed to conceal his satyr features. His goat’s legs still looked human but his artificial, blond-haired, blue-eyed face looked as paralyzed as if he’d just gotten botox.
“They’re nowhere to be seen,” he gasped. “Both the Queen and Minister Salbard; after those ruffians started threatening them—”
“Leave it to Castori to turn this into a riot,” Anthony muttered. He turned back to the balcony and leaned against the railing.
“Well, he is a troll,” Wiste said. He adjusted his mask; the arcane mechanism snapped into gear and his face looked alive again. The two watched the black clouds, below.
After a moment, he set his jaw and led Wiste by the elbow around the second floor. Wiste didn’t ask where they were going. He just followed. When they reached the next overlook Anthony spotted Karl. He was at the rotunda looking out at the vast, open center of the mall. Below, the black fog was starting to dissipate; the Royal Hunt was faltering.
“Have you seen them?” he asked.
His boyfriend just shook his head. “In this chaos?”
A mournful howl shivered through the air. Darkness erupted from the base of the log ride and exploded like quicksilver serpents along the park paths. The shadows swelled and spread like living things consuming mall guard and police officer, alike. Animal control had no idea what they were facing. At least one of Castori’s “pets” was still free. Officers wearing ineffectual gas masks plunged into the darkness with flashlights and guns drawn.
Anthony felt a chill run through his heart: there were monsters on the prowl.
During his final childhood adventure in NeverEarth, he’d encountered the mastiffs. They were shaggy black canines the size of ponies. Like wolves, they travelled in packs but conjured the blackest of shadows to conceal their hunting. They were strong and fast and brutal. It was only through luck and swallowing his fear that he’d been able to gain the trust of a few while confronting their cruel master. Now they were loose on Earth; in his world.
“The mortals are going to regret crossing my hounds,” hissed a gravely voice. “Those weapons, those guns, mean little.”
Castori Phane approached, imperiously tall and cloaked in the deep blue, gold-embroidered cloak of the royal household. Swirls of green and silver thread were etched into the hems showing wolves, gryphons, wyverns, and leopards: the animals he cared for in service to the crown. His hood was drawn, concealing his tusked, grey-green face from casual observation. His eyes, solid black, showed little emotion. The troll clenched and unclenched his leather-gloved hands, talons piercing the tip of each finger. He wasn’t using any disguise enchantments. Only the panic of the human crowds kept them from really paying much attention.
“Call them off! You didn’t have to summon the Hunt,” Anthony snapped.
Castori raised one hairless brow. “Didn’t I? Her majesty is gone—Minister Salbard with her—and you wish leniency towards these mortals?”
“We don’t know what happened,” Karl said. He stepped up next to Anthony. “If she hadn’t wandered off—”
The troll loomed, glowering. Eight feet tall, he was an engine of destruction that, once put in motion, was a terror to stop. “Her royal highness did not ‘wander off’,” he snarled. “She came to your world to observe; to see where her ancestors came from. She is our Queen and will have your respect!”
Karl swallowed, hard, and took a step back. Cowed, he nonetheless muttered, “Queen, eh? Well, I didn’t vote for her.”
Wiste stepped in front of Castori. “Enough! If the local constables have Her Majesty, it should be a simple matter to locate and free her. But if the ruffians have taken her—”
“Then she will be avenged,” Castori finished.
Anthony shivered. Trolls just got bigger, meaner, and more powerful the older they got. Since his early times in NeverEarth, Castori had become distilled: more of a troll than ever. He didn’t want to think about what would happen if he went on the warpath.
“Castori,” he said, “you saw them too, right? The punks bothering the Queen?”
“Why else would I have summoned the mastiffs?” His growl was matter-of-fact.
“And they were armed?”
Castori snorted in assent.
Anthony nodded. It was rare but local gangs did cause problems. There was the incident a few years back that birthed a running mob ranging throughout the whole four-million square feet of the place. Some said that Saint Paul gangs had been involved.
“We’re going to find her; get her back,” he vowed.
A gunshot cracked the air followed by a mournful wail from the amusement park. Everyone but Castori jumped; a few onlookers cried out in alarm. Anthony shivered again, remembering that howl from his childhood. The police weren’t taking any chances with the darkness-shrouded mastiffs. He and the others had to find Allasande. But if she hadn’t “wandered off”, either the cops or someone else had taken her. But where?
Where was the missing monarch of NeverEarth?