Mirrors of Eden: The Castaway King Chronicles, #2

By Spencer Labbe

THE CASTAWAY KING CHRONICLES BOOK 2: MIRRORS OF EDEN

The Afterdark world of Haven was far more terrible and beautiful than Pil Persins could ever have expected. Not everyone had survived the mission aboveground, but Pil and his friends returned back to Westleton, a little scarred perhaps, but safe and alive.

But in their absence, the world underground had begun to change -- Southden was taken by a mysterious enemy and the home they had known would never be the same again.

A war is brewing on their borders and at the center of it all, the Castaway King.

The Exidite need to know what is going on in Southden. They need to know the Castaway King's plan. And for that, they need Pil.

But Pil will have to use every ounce of cunning, strength, and magic he has if he intends to survive. In the midst of enemies, traitors, monsters, and even the Castaway King himself -- nothing is more important than keeping his secrets close, and his friends alive.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Little Pieces of Paper Publishing
• Release date: May 7, 2019
• ISBN: 9781948208079

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

The Note

Death putrefied the air. Gone, everything was gone.

A broken, purple light filtered through the cavern ceiling, throwing Westleton into even brighter relief. The light of an Afterdark day illuminated the normally darkened town.

Pil looked out at the hole. Along with the light from the sky came an encroaching army. They twitched inside like a mass of giant spiders, moving so that they lost all individual traits. It was a rolling wave of green and purple scales — a bit of muscled skin here, a flash of red eyes, a gleam of boned fangs.

Pil supposed he should feel frightened. Bahbeq are fear itself, and there were so many... But he only felt a grotesque interest in the way that they moved. How they clung like roots to the dirt. How they moved with such a ferocious speed.

They had already begun to overtake the edges of Westleton.

Pil woke with a start. He gasped for air. It took him a moment to gather his thoughts; they had been scrambled by the dream. When he looked around he remembered where he was: in his Exidite room. Safe.

Except they weren’t safe anymore, none of them were. The city of Southden had been taken only a week before, and Pil knew Westleton could be taken just the same. 

Just then, a knock came at the door and Pil realized what had woken him up. He crept out of the hammock and answered the door to find Crispin standing there, looking grim and tired.

Er — hi?

This is for you Pil, Crispin handed him a note. It’s from the Captain. And without another word, he turned around and hurried away.

Pil looked at the note curiously. Could this be what he thought it was?

Pil had been hoping for something like this ever since Harlem had announced, to general outrage, that only the Exidite directly involved in the rescue of Southden would be told about their plans. He had blamed the King’s court, the group of powerful Prestige who were all directly descended from King Alfer Arrow’s original court. But he had also hinted that it was for the best. The court would plan for them, the Prestige would decide their fate.

Pil was absolutely furious. What faith could he have in the King’s court, and the Prestige? What plan might they have concocted to fight such dangerous enemies?

Felicity too had been sulking around for the past several days. The Exidite seemed to think that Southden being taken was a direct result of Harlem leaving to save them from the Afterdark. The fact that Felicity herself was a Prestige — and the daughter of a family well-known for their involvement in the King’s court — did not help her case in the slightest.

Pil unfolded the note and read the instructions on it. He was to meet with Captain Harlem in the Castle that very night!

Pil, grumbled Dirk from the hammock across the room. That you?

Yeah, said Pil walking over, Crispin just came to the door. Get a look at this.

Dirk rose groggily into a sitting position and grabbed the see-stone he kept next to his hammer under his hammock.

His face was illuminated in the purple light for a moment as he read; his eyes growing wider and more awake with every word.

"Ch... char, Pil! You don’t reckon he’s going to let you in on the Southden plans?"

I can’t think why else he would ask for me, and at night while everyone’s asleep. But why me? And why only me?

I dunno. But you’d better go find out. Should I stay up and wait for you?

No, get some sleep. It might be nothing; just a question about the Lüxore or something... I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow.

Alright, muttered Dirk, and he lay back down. In seconds he was again fast asleep.

PIL STOOD STARING AT the enormous white Castle looming over him.

The neat and orderly buildings inside the Castle walls were nothing next to the marvel of the Castle itself. The sturdy mass was built from aged, frozen-white stone, and topped with ramparts and many rounded turrets. The walls themselves were filled with a variety of arrow slits, and headed with perfect square stones that made up the battlements. Altogether, it was a formidable fortress, and it spoke of weathered years as much as it did of war and grandeur.

Pil had never given much thought to the Castle’s defenses, but after hearing about the takeover of Southden, everything in Westleton seemed to be cast over with the threat of war. It had been a week since they had learned of the attack, and still the Exidite hadn’t done anything to help. Well, not as far as Pil knew anyway.

Ever since they returned from the Afterdark it was as though time had suddenly caught up with the small Elfin Mounds. Elfin had lived for so long in relative peace. They were divided by the Prestige and wealth; but nothing serious had threatened them for thousands of years. Now Southden had been captured by the mysterious Castaway King. The same mysterious person who had ordered the attack on Pil’s squad, leaving them stranded in the light of their world.

But despite the threat to Elfin-kind, it was as though the rich and powerful were unconcerned. Even King Harlow, the King of all the remaining Elfin, had only been concerned with the Luxore: the legendary second-caste Ethereal of Alfer Arrow himself.

It was a powerful artifact that Pil had found aboveground. With the Luxore Pil had been able to combine nearly all of the see-stone in Westleton into one giant chunk. The culmination of this was the enormous crystal formation that even now hung from the ceiling of the wide cavern. Illuminating their world in a hazy, purple wash.

But what use was it against the Castaway King? Whoever he was, he had powerful allies on his side. Enough power to take over an entire Elfin Mound the size of Westleton, with apparent ease. And the Prestige wanted them to wait. To keep their plans from anyone who they deemed unimportant. It was sickening. 

The two guards that stood on either side of the large, oak doors parted slightly as he approached. Pil followed Harlem’s instructions through the thick doors and on into the Throne Room.

He wasn’t quite sure yet how to feel about the meeting. He thought that he might like to yell at their leader for leaving the lives of so many up to the Prestige. But he also felt quite nervous. Surely Harlem wouldn’t have chosen him to be involved in any plans to save Southden? Harlem hadn’t so much as looked at him since they had returned. Pil was starting to suspect that Harlem too resented Pil for getting lost aboveground. But why else would he have called him to the Castle? And why so late at night?

After a short distance, Pil came to an abrupt stop. Harlem stood facing him across an elegant hallway. He stood in front of an old door of light wood.

He turned to Pil with a slight smile.

Good evening, Pil. I’m sure you have been wondering why I called you here. This... He gestured to the door in front of him. Is where I’m taking you tonight. Beyond this door is a test of sorts. I hope you understand that these are not secrets I entrust lightly. In passing through this door, you must agree to take the weight of that responsibility. Before you enter I must know: are you prepared to give your life for the safety of others? To use only the force necessary, and only for the good of all?

Harlem’s gaze dug deeply into Pil’s, the weight of his words evident.

Yes, said Pil, more than a little confused. What was going on? What sort of test? Was this a punishment?

Harlem searched his face for a moment longer and then nodded, satisfied. He turned and pulled open the door.

CHAPTER 2

The Birth-Tree

Pil’s mouth dropped open as he entered into a bright new world. It was a beautiful, tiny meadow full of life. As though a slice of the world aboveground had been cut out and fit into a large, stone room. Bright green grass flowed like water over a tiny hill in the center of the chamber. The hill itself was encircled by a brook that ran from some hole in the far back wall, and disappeared into the corner opposite. The small stream curved and played around the room, gently lapping at the tufts of green grass and the nettles of bushes and white flowers.

The meadow was topped with a slim, white tree that sprouted from the grass hill. It was the purest white Pil had ever seen; the leaves like drops of falling rain.

Wha... What is this place? asked Pil in wonder.

Beautiful, isn’t it? Harlem strode around from behind. The Castle was built around this spot. Alfer Arrow himself grew the meadow and placed around it the stone protection of a Castle. It is the heart of Westleton, and it is very much a living thing.

Pil gaped openly at the room. It really did seem to pulse with life; even the light source was bright and vibrant. Aside from the one Pil himself had created with the Lüxore, he had never in his life seen such a large clump of see-stone crystal. Most peculiarly, the light was the purple of an Afterdark sky in Haven, rather than the dark purple every other see-stone was currently producing.

But why keep it a secret?

For the same reason we keep secret what we call our Ethereal magic, said Harlem solemnly. Sometimes, even the knowledge of power can become a perilous thing.

What kind of tree is that? I’ve never seen anything like it.

This Pil, is a birth-tree, I believe I told you of them and their uses when we were aboveground? Among the clear leaves of a birth-tree are little budding white flowers. Inside those flowers is what we call a heartseed.

That is the thing you use to force someone into second-caste?

It is... Harlem trailed off, staring at the tree as if in deep thought. Our kind has a long history with these trees and the heartseed they produce. If ingested by an Elfin, this heartseed will either force them into second-caste or kill them.

Pil turned around suspiciously. Why are you showing me all of this? I thought only Lieutenants and Captains were allowed to take the test for second-caste.

Harlem sighed. "Normally, I wouldn’t. Not until you were a Lieutenant at the least. But aboveground you were forced into a state that is very nearly second-caste. You touched that magic, but the process was incomplete. That is a very dangerous situation.

If you don’t complete the change, the magic may burst out of you at unexpected moments. It could very easily harm you, and those around you. And eventually, it will turn and twist your mind. Even still, I would not usually bring you to this place unless I was sure it was necessary. But several members on the King’s court found out about the signs you had been exhibiting, and my hands were tied. They seem to think you’re a danger to the Exidite, and with everything going on in Southden we can’t afford any more risks. I had to at least offer it to you. In fact, I had to show you the meadow first. He gave Pil a very meaningful look. And I also... I also have to offer you a part in the plans for Southden...

Pil was completely taken aback by this. Ever since the meeting he had given up on being involved in the Southden plans. If even the veteran Exidite weren’t going to be told what was going on, what chance did he have?

"This is assuming, of course, that you take the test. I am sorry Pil, but even I have no power to refuse the full King’s court. I don’t know why you were singled out, but I have to force you to make this decision, and you need to make it now.

But, the court is in agreement that if you decide to take the test later you may. You are still young and we will not force you to risk your life until you become a true danger. If you choose not to take the test I will watch over you, and in time, when you’re ready, I will prepare you for the heartseed. But whatever you choose to do, I have an obligation to them and to you, to ensure that your magic is under control.

Pil understood what Harlem was trying to get at. For whatever reason, someone in the court was backing him into a corner. His fury towards the Prestige rose to new heights. They wanted him to be tempted into taking the test, to risk his life while they just sat back and watched.

But in spite of his anger towards the Prestige, a part of him was unsure. Isn’t this what he wanted? To be a part of the plans for Southden... to do anything other than sit around training and recovering. He was terrified, but he had seen what second-caste magic was capable of. If they really were at war, wouldn’t it be safer if he knew magic?

Take your time deciding, Pil, said Harlem uncomfortably. I will not think any less of you for saying no. This is not something I take pleasure in doing, and it is not a decision to be...

I’ll do it, said Pil firmly, cutting the Prince off. If the Prestige wanted to play with his life, fine, he would let them. But he vowed then that he would survive the test, and when he did he would find out who had set him up... I don’t want my magic hurting anyone. And I will be a part of the plans for Southden. He glared at Harlem. He felt betrayed by the Captain he had come to respect so much aboveground. Whatever Harlem said, he was letting the Prestige walk all over him. Letting them play with the lives of his men.

Harlem examined him with his hard blue eyes. He looked sad, but resigned. Very well.

What do I do?

Why don’t you see... Harlem gazed up at the shining, white tree.

Pil approached it, treading carefully over the small river, and climbing to the top of the tiny, green hill. The tree was as white as the petals it sprouted, and without a single flaw or crack. A perfect willow of flesh-like wood.

Cautiously, he put out his hand. As he made contact with the wood a bright light began to erupt around him. The thin bark of the tree started to glow, as though a white light was coming from within the trunk itself. Like a bead of energy, the light suddenly shot out from the center and towards the top of the tree, before fizzling away down the branches and twigs, and finally coming to a stop in the leaves. The light twinkled there for a moment, like a thousand glittering stars.

What is this? whispered Pil as warmth began to spread up his hand from the tree. The heat pulsed rhythmically under his palm.

The tree is responding to you; the touch of an Elfin can wake a birth-tree. But despite our connection, its power is quite indifferent to Elfin-kind. It is something old — strong like its roots. And dangerous...

Just then something dropped to the ground next to Pil. A shining blue marble misted with white had fallen from a budding flower by his head. Pil picked it up.

Careful now, whispered Harlem. This is an important decision, Pil. The tree has accepted you and found the best heartseed. That small seed was created to test you, but if you fail its test — you will die.

Pil looked up from the ball. What happens when I take it?

"You will come close to death. Not everyone has the same experience, but you will either survive it, or you will not. You must be sure, Pil. I hope I have stressed how grave this ritual is. Once you have magic you will be monitored very closely. It is in the nature of power to be used, but it is at the discretion of the individual to use that power for good. It is my duty, and the duty of the King, to ensure that the right individuals reach second-caste or even Enlightenment."

But what if someone reaches second-caste or Enlightenment on their own? I mean, Felicity has her second-caste Ethereal — and I’ve heard of others... Pil did not want to admit that Todd had once told him about Harlem reaching the state of Enlightenment on his own, after witnessing his brother’s death and being nearly killed himself.

"That is correct. But Enlightenment magic is only obtainable by a Prestige. And only in the light of an Afterdark day. You can imagine how unlikely it is that these two conditions are met, especially given the extreme circumstances necessary.

"Second-caste is much the same. Although it may be achieved by any Elfin, they must be close to a traumatic death. Both of these things are uncommon among even the Exidite. You and your friends were in a situation few Elfin have found themselves in...

I believe you are ready. However, the magic that you are holding may decide you are unworthy. That is the burden all who possess magic must know. It is the weight of life and death.

Pil looked uneasily down at the cloudy, blue marble in his hand. Although it was still shiny and bright, the marble seemed to take on a sinister look.

Pil popped it into his mouth. Harlem looked mildly surprised as Pil met his gaze with grim determination.

And then, Harlem’s face began to melt away.

His sharp, cold features broke into a blob of white and blue as Pil’s vision thinned. As though in response to this, a pain erupted in the back of his head — like a thick needle forcing its way through his brain, to his left eye.

Before he could even scream, Pil crumpled to the soft lawn.

His body seized up — every muscle tensed to protect himself from the agony that had moved from his head, and was now pulsating from somewhere in his mid-chest. He gasped a rattling breath before the pain found its way to his lungs, seizing his air.

A wild panic rose suddenly in him. This was death, he was dying. He had been close to it before, felt Death’s very presence in the Chasm of Agora, but this was it — he felt surer of this one fact then he had ever been of anything. He would die any second.

His heart rose with the knowledge. It beat as though in time with the sharp shocks running around his tensed muscles. A severe, furious tremor shook him. But it will stop soon — Pil thought desperately — it has to stop. Painfully, perhaps. Yes, it would be a painful death.

But then it will all be over, won’t it?

There was solace in that thought. Once it happened, the pain would stop... He just needed it to stop — anything to stop the pain — any...

‘Anything?’ asked a voice that did not belong to Pil. It was a slow and thoughtful voice, but it came through, piercingly clear in his jumbled mind.

‘Wha...?’ thought Pil, his jaw failing to form the words.

‘Anything?’ asked the voice again.

‘Anything!’ Pil shouted in his mind.

A flash of light and color, and the pain froze in his blood. And then, quite suddenly, his vision went white.

It was as though a thick gauze was cast over his mind. The pain became a dull ache, and his thoughts slowed.

Pil was suddenly aware that it was inside his mind. Whatever had spoken to him, he could feel it moving alongside his own consciousness. Like a white wall pressing slowly in on his thoughts. It was examining him. Reading his mind like it was an open book.

He was in its grasp; a puppet of this seemingly endless white mind. It could make him do anything. Pil felt his body removed from his control. Felt it as though this was happening to someone else. The weight of this mind would suffocate him.

‘What do you want?’ screamed Pil, to the white mass that was now him. The question seemed to echo feebly in his mind — the whisper of a thought. He could no longer feel his body, but he could still feel the agony of it.

‘We... As one.’ Came the cool whisper of a voice. It was high pitched and cut cleanly through the haze of Pil’s mind. ‘Let go. The pain will leave. Anything...’

‘What do I do?’ Pain surged again, as though to remind him it was still there, waiting. ‘Anything, please! Tell me what to do!’

‘Let go,’ the voice whispered again, ‘Let go. We, as one. The stillness approaches, we will fall as one, let go...’

A sense of dread filled Pil’s heart. A part of him wanted to let go, to give in to this overwhelming force. If he didn’t, it would keep hurting him, of that he was certain. Pil was entirely within its grasp. He could feel it even now, like a hand gripping at his very soul.

Even as he began to worry, it closed tighter, and his thoughts melted away. It pushed and pulled until the white gave way to black, and his mind relaxed into nothing but feelings... only the gentle sway of emotion.

Pil swayed for a moment in the emotion — and then, with sudden clarity, he was thrust into something like a memory.

Pil’s mother stood before him in a room of white.

Pil. She smiled at him, a warm, loving smile. She was as he remembered her: short, white-blue hair like his own, her eyes a light purple color. Like the sky, like the light. Pil, come along. You’ve been so brave. It’s time to leave now.

She held a hand to him, gesturing away.

He took her hand without thought. Where are we going? His voice was a whispering echo.

Away. Away from the pain. Away from the hurt. She tried to pull him along, but he didn’t move. We will go on... We can be together again...

I would like that. He wanted to go with her, there was so much to say, but his body refused to move. I would like that. Mom, I have so much to tell you, so much time lost. But I can’t... His mind seemed to have cleared in the memory.

She looked at him with confusion and hurt.

I miss you, I do. Please don’t be sad, I miss you more than you can know, but there is so much to do. Peach! She’s grown so much, but she needs me still. And Pa... he is as strong an Elfin as I’ve ever known, but the pain in his heart from losing you... I’m sorry, I need to go back to them. His voice choked off. Pil pulled away from her grasp, I can’t go with you, not yet...