Carousel

By T.C. Elofson

For a long time, Carousel thought the worst thing she could go through was losing her mother  to an assassin's blade…... Now, years later Carousel lives under the streets of Heartbell,  the Departed City with her emotionally wrecked father. The two of them have waited, and bided their time to find out  the truth of that horrible day. Unfortunately the story of that painful day is one clouded in secrets, emotional magic and danger. The real truth will change who  she is forever.

• Language: English
• Publisher: T.C. Elofson
• Release date: Jul 4, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223541875

T.C. Elofson

T.C. Elofson is the author of three novels and lives in Edmonds, WA with his wife and two daughters.

Book preview

1

The vision sprang into my mind, attacking me the same way every morning. I shook my head, trying to rid myself of it as if it was nothing but an uncomfortable dream and I could shake it loose. But there it was, looking back at me. No matter how I forced my eyes shut, it remained that immovable part of me. The image of that door loomed over me deep in the recesses of my mind. It was a simple looking door. Dark paneling of black oak with a long brass handle. The door was hugged by a large vine of dark red ivy that clung to the yellow stonework around the frame. It was nothing particularly special to see. In the city of Heartbell, there were certainly more ornate and artfully crafted doors than this. But this door was special to me. Behind those dark wooden panels, I closed off a piece of me. This was where I hid that part of me that I didn’t want anyone to see, so far down in the darkness, buried behind the unwanted parts of me. Drowning with emotion wrapped up in my mother’s murder.

I locked it up tight. People have tried to get me to open it. They have tried to break it down, and break me down in the process, but I refused to open it. Everyday I looked at that door and I thought, is today the day that I open that door? Is today the day that I find out the truth of my mother’s death? But just like every other day, I kept that door closed, afraid of what was on the other side.

I shook that image from my mind. This was my routine. I walked the cobbled streets of Heartbell and cleared my thoughts. Yet, even the beautiful canals of the Departed City did little to clear my mind that morning. Today was no different than any other day, except for one thing... Now I was late for market day.

My emotions came in vivid colors before me as I stormed down from the upper section of Heartbell and into the dark corridor under the city. I dashed into the shadows and blazed my Fear into its typical brilliant orange, darkness pushed back as intense light filled the long, cobbled corridor. The underground passage that led to my home snaked ahead of me to the black door of the tunnels. The sounds of dripping water fell all around me. The drip, drip called out its reminders of last night's storm.

Moisture soaked my foot as it came down onto the water-logged stones of the doorway. The boots I wore were good ones, but the stitching was loose and not tight enough to keep the water from my toes. In fact, most of what I wore was not very good for this sort of weather. A jacket and leather pants. This was a work day for me. All that mattered was that it was market day and I was late.

I ripped open the iron door. The lamplight grew green before me.

Dad! I yelled, my voice booming in the narrow corridor. Where are you?

I pulled on my Fear and cast my emotion into a brass ring made of light that formed on my finger. I pounded the ring against one of the cold iron doors that lined the underground passageway before me. 

Clank, clank!

After a moment, the rusty, iron door opened and I saw the chiseled features of Rias Farlirin, the newest member of our household. He pushed back a blond lock and tucked it behind his ear.

Carousel. Hi, Rias said in his typical lilting Vantar accent, twisting his Is into an ‘owe’ sound. His A’s were more of an ‘ah’ sound.

Where is my father? I said, looking past Rias as if to spy Wade Throhon standing behind the broad shoulders of the boy who was before me.

Your Da is in the study room next door, he told me, reaching for a shirt. I tried very hard not to notice that Rias hadn’t been wearing a shirt the whole time. It wasn’t until that moment that I horrifyingly realized he was not alone. Insects crawled up my arm. That is how it felt every time I looked at Claireece, the overly beautiful woman that now stood before me in the doorway. They were always together. Why were they always together? Claireece tossed me a grin that did not really say ‘hi’ exactly. More like, Oh, you’re back.

Besides me, Claireece was the only girl that lived in the underground tunnels. But I looked nothing like the striking beauty that she was. Her hair was a dirty blond while my own was jet black. Her body had all the right curves while I was, well... I kept waiting for my mother’s curves to show themselves. But they never did.

Claireece spun on her heel, tossing me a smile and twirling her blond hair before she disappeared around a corner. Both Rias and Claireece were new arrivals to the house. I wasn’t sure about either of them. They both spoke in the same strange accent. More evidence that they had a history together.

Thanks, I told Rias, stepping away quickly. Not wanting to discuss the fact that he was half naked with Claireece just now. He moved into the hallway in front of me. It felt suddenly smaller now that he stood in the hall, his head nearly touching the hanging water pipes that ran along the arched ceiling.

Do we have an exit plan yet for tomorrow? Rias asked.

I don’t know, Rias. I haven't talked with my father yet, I told him irritably, stepping away from him. I instinctively patted the pocket of my coat to feel for the mission plans in question, relieved when I felt them there.

Very good then. Go and find your Da.

My emotions grew bright again, and they betrayed me in a flash of yellow glowing in the small hall. It was not the saffron of Fear I told myself, looking up at it. But it was the color of Joy. I did not want to admit that this person gave me some form of Joy. But he did.

The bright yellows of my Joy, the deep blues of my Sadness, and the blazing oranges of my Fear were all there for me to cast at that moment.

Not everyone could see emotions like I could. In fact, my father and I were the only ones that I had ever known who could. My mother was never able to see them. I didn’t get this talent from her. But that is not to say I got nothing from my mother. Not her curves, of course, but I did get her beautiful, soft, light brown skin and hair full of ringlets, though they were unruly at times. I saw her in me sometimes. So did my father... unfortunately.

I finally found my father sitting in his usual place when I came looking for him in the underground tunnels. The enormous figure of Wade Throhon leaned over one of my weavings of shimmering shoulder plating. He held it in his thin fingers, raising it up to a flickering candle flame. The glow of the yellow flame illuminated the lines of his face.

The years since the death of my mother had been hard, especially on him. We spent all that time sleeping in the streets of the city after my mother’s murder, and I knew that every moment without her had changed him, almost making him a stranger to me. I had lost my mother to a killer's blade and lost my father at almost the very same instant. Something in him broke in that moment, broke inside of him. In me too.

I wished I had the information I needed. There was a story to tell there, but my father never wanted to talk about it. The most that I was ever able to glean from him was that my mother was killed in the streets after fleeing the Kingdom city and bringing me here. I was eleven then.

Has it really only been four years? I thought.

After that, my father and I found this place. I asked him once why we needed to live underground. Why couldn’t we have a house under the sun like everyone else? He only said that we are not like everyone else. Our lives are not theirs. This is what our lives require of us. My father and I made this odd place our home. We had a mission. Others had normal lives. I was not normal. Nothing about me was normal.

It was just the two of us for a very long time. I didn’t know what we were, but it didn’t feel like a family exactly. Then there came Rias and Claireece. They showed up a few weeks back. My father was always recruiting. Recruiting for a battle that we all knew was coming. I’ve known about it for a very long time. This was what I’d prepared for. This is what he’d trained me for.

My father was a peculiar sort of man. He spent most of his time in his lab, a small room at the end of the hall, making his plans that I never really knew about. He was a private person, but his target had always been clear to me. He thought that I didn’t know, but I did. Once I snuck into his workshop and I saw for myself what he was up to. His notes left little room for interpretation. He was planning to attack what he now calls our worst enemy. A man that he only had listed as Pellarian.

My father lifted his gaze to spot me watching him. He stared up at me with pale skin, slightly graying black hair, and vibrant blue eyes that always seem to look right through me.

After my mother’s death, I felt so lost. My father and I drifted away from one another. But since he took in Rias and Claireece, there was a small part of him that had returned. I was grateful to see that glimmer of him again, even if it wasn’t for me.

This was his work. Forever fighting, resisting against... what?

I didn’t completely understand what we were really fighting. It wasn’t the government or the Kingdoms, that much I knew. Really, as far as I knew, it was to fight one man. Pellarian Highlore.

I had a feeling why we were going after this person, and why we were targeting him and not the island soldiers. The answer had everything to do with my mother. My father never said the words. But I’m not stupid. I can figure things out.

Are we ready for tomorrow then? I asked from the doorway. Information only, right? This is not about killing him?

I knew his answer. My father had a growing dislike for Pellarian, and every day it seemed to plant a new seed in his mind. The drive in him was like nothing I had ever felt before. But if Pellarian had something to do with my mother’s murder, then I knew that I was going there too. To find out the truth.

I’m going to need you to do more weavings before then. And not those gloves and coats that you sell in the markets. You spend too much of your time casting your talents into unnecessary items for those merchants, he told me.

The weavings were how I earned money for us. At the same time, I understood his meaning. Every time I pulled on my emotions to cast an item to be sold, I took something away from myself. I did take my own Love and Joy to weave the yellow gloves that sold so well. It was also very painful to pull on my emotions. Every time I pulled a piece of emotion, I ripped a piece of me away. Every casting symbolized a small part of who I was that was now missing. And I felt the loss of it.

Though casting from Fear or Sadness was easier, it did not seem to fill the weaves with warmth the way that something cast with Love did. It sometimes depleted me, and I had nothing left for my father to use. He was always making use of my emotions to cast items for his cause.

Why don’t you do it? I wanted to ask. But I knew the answer. It would be the same answer as before. He needed to save his emotions for the big fight that he insisted he was going to have with Pellarian. That fight would take everything he had. But me... I could use my emotions for his needs right now.

I moved into the room, taking a seat next to him on a long bench. He still wouldn’t look up from the weaving. A long-gun sat across the tabletop before him, smelling of black powder. I wore no flintlock at my hip. Not that Wade wasn’t pushing for me to wear one. I playfully nudged my shoulder into his, and the long scabbard of his sword jabbed into my side. He stared at me and looked back to the weaving in his hands again.

"You can weave them then," I finally said, coming back to his statement.

You know your weavings are stronger than mine, he told me, glaring up at me over the top of the woven armor.

My sales in the markets keep us fed, Dad, I reminded him, tugging on the canary yellow glove I wore. Pulling it tighter over my fingers, I recalled the magic in the glove. The bright yellow of my Love was, of course, my favorite to weave. There was no magic transfer, so to speak. Nothing more than an emotional balancing or righting for the wearer. For weaving with Love was the strongest weaving that I could do. Even in the streets on the bitterest frosty nights, I found warmth from my Love. That is why they sell so well in the markets, I thought. That is why we eat. If it were up to my father, we wouldn’t eat. Only fight. 

An item woven from true Happiness is stronger and more vibrant than anything else. Yet an item cast with the deep blues of Sadness and the blazing oranges of my Fear are most common for me to find here in the canal streets of Heartbell. But in the under-tunnels, my requests for weaving were more... clandestine, I thought, looking at the armor again.

What we are planning would not be looked upon favorably by some. Most of the inhabitants of Heartbell were enamored with Pellarian Highlore, and to hear that there was a group of people planning to cause him harm would not be received well.

Wade was a Fear caster, or a saffron caster. Fear casting was supposed to be stronger than anything else in a battle, but my father never seemed to say why. He wouldn’t explain it, and every time I approached the subject of why, he would cut me off. I learned a long time ago that appeasing my father was better for my well being than antagonizing him, so I let the matter go.

Unfortunately, I didn’t possess any clues about what we really were. Only that we are what are called Ardents. ‘Ardent’ is a word from the mainland. Though beyond that, I have no idea what I am. Only that I can cast my emotions.

Have you been doing this all night? You were right here when I left you last night, I groaned. He kept his gaze on his work.

Most of the night, yes, Wade spoke in his fatherly tone, which was his most common tone for me.

How can you expect to succeed in anything if you do not get the rest that your body needs?

Really? he snapped, turning back to me. I do what I need to do. I would hope that at some point you would take a hint from me and do the same.

You’re in a great mood this morning. A mood that might be changed by a little sleep, I smiled.

Did you come to annoy me or did you want something from me? Wade asked. You know why we have to go after him. He is harming the city by what he does.

I know, it’s just...

With every casting he does, he takes someone else's emotion, steals it for himself. His azurecasting is powerful. And we must be as powerful in our own way.

I know. Azurecasting was a form of emotion casting that magnified the victims’ terror, reflecting it back at them. From what my father told me, it’s a horrible way of dealing with your victims.

He knew that his obsession was not mine. At least not at first. I stared at him.

You have the invitation to his card game? my father asked.

Yeah. I patted the pocket that held my plans for the mission. Right here.

Good. That’s our way in, he added.

But I need your help today. It’s market day. I have weavings to sell. If we are going to eat this week, I need to get to the markets, I explained to him. The look on Wade’s face told me that he could feel my emotions. He seemed to always know my emotions as well as I knew them.

That’s how it was with casters. I could see his emotions as well as he could see mine. And the blaze of orange above my father told me all that I needed to know. He was a stubborn sort of person. Fatherly and protective, but headstrong and unmovable in his ideas of what he felt was best for those under his care. Unfortunately, I was under his care. In the end, I loved him, no matter how frustrating he was. He was all I had.

Rias can go with you. He needs a break from Claireece anyhow, my father told me, his lips pulling up at the corners. You need his help more than we do. We can catch up later.

Alright, I agreed, but I wasn’t loving the idea of spending time with Rias now, not after witnessing him with Claireece a bit ago. They arrived together, I recalled. And when they were first brought in by Wade, I didn’t get the feeling of attraction between them. But now it’s clear I was wrong.

Do I have to? Rias asked, appearing in the doorway. My father shot Rias one of his accusatory looks that I thought were only reserved for me.

I understand you are new, Rias, Wade said. But we expect you to help when needed.

Alright, I will go then, Rias said, leaning his shoulder against the door frame.

Thanks, I said, skirting past him into the passageway. Help me get my weaving from my rooms, okay?

Aye, sure thing. Rias had a way of dropping his h sounds on the strangest of words, I noted. His Sure thing, right then, was more of a Sure ting.

Rias fell in behind me as we moved into the green glow of the lamplight. I walked down the stairs and turned the corner that led to my small room on the under-floor.

Are you going on the mission then? Rias asked as we walked down the metal tunnel. It took me a step or two to understand that he was talking about Pellarian again. Rias was relentless with this. Did he think about anything else? I wondered.

I stopped myself from asking him more. There was something about this boy that I just wasn’t sure about. I wouldn’t go so far as to say that I didn’t trust him, but I decided to keep my questions about how Rias felt about Pellarian to myself, at least for now.

Of course I am. I’m planning this one.

They did not often involve me in their plans, but I knew they had them. This time I made the plans, at least I hoped so. The people in this home tended to make a lot of their moves under the cover of darkness.

I thought this was your Da’s plan, Rias said.

Figures.

I didn’t want to discuss this anymore. The whole subject of confronting Pellarian Highlore was something that I did not want to think about. I plunged down the steps and through the small green door of my room. Gather all the gloves and I will get the coats, I called out to Rias behind me.

I’ve got them, Rias said from the darkness. I flashed some Fear, and the room blazed a honey glow, illuminating the cramped storage space and painting the piles of newly woven items with light. I snatched up a stack of gloves and tossed them to Rias who stood uselessly in the doorway of my room.

Hey, watch it, Sel! He flashed me an irritated grin, all white and thin lips. His hair was a curled mess, unkempt as usual.

I need to get to the markets, I told him, pulling a scarf off the edge of the table and placing it on the top of my stack of coats. If you want any food tonight, we will need to hurry, I said.

He seems different when Claireece isn’t around him, I thought, watching him. He shot me a tart smile, a grin that softened my demeanor a bit. When I felt a smile pull across my own face, he pulled his back just a bit as if he had just accomplished something great or gotten some prize from me. Was he teasing me? Looking back, I admitted that Rias was nicer to me than I was to him most of the time. He smiled again as if he could read my thoughts. As if he knew that his defensiveness—which drove me crazy about him—was suddenly less annoying.

I’m trying, I’m trying, he protested. I turned around and made a show of gathering more articles from piles by the door until Rias was ready. I tossed him a handful of scarves. I knew he had his gun on him, though I didn’t see it. But I knew he had it. Me, I didn’t carry a weapon. I am the weapon, as my father would say.

Carousel, he would say, you will never be able to use your power effectively if you rely on guns.

Come on. I ran out the door, and Rias fell in behind me as we rushed toward the market.

I had studied my plan a dozen times since writing it. I read each elegant twist and turn of the pen strokes that described the entry and exit. And then there were the unknowns. You have to plan for the unknowns. But maybe not. No plan was perfect. I didn’t know which situation I would find myself in once I was inside. But it didn’t matter. I swore that I would be prepared for it. This was my chance. My chance to prove that I could make a plan too. That I had something to offer outside of putting food on the table and casting my emotions for their needs. If I messed this up, I would curse myself for years to come. Plus my father would never let me plan anything else again.

Rias and I moved over a small cobbled bridge that connected the tiny, snaking streets of Heartbell. We jogged over the canals and I could admire the wondrous towers of Serin plaza. One of my favorite things to do was climb those towers and look down upon the city with no one else around me. No matter where I stood in this island city, the towers looked back at me. Heartbell was a gift. The King gave this city to his youngest son for not challenging his older brother for the throne. The son took the city under one condition: that the city would split from the Kingdom but remain protected by the Kingdom. Heartbell became known as the Departed City because it is separate from the Kingdoms. This small island is its own province. Though it was protected by the Kingdom fleets, it was not part of the Kingdoms. Not truly.

Heartbell dawned crisp and cold that morning, and I wrapped my thin furs around me, hiding from the bitter chill and shivering at the bite of the surrounding cold. My cheeks reddened a bit at the brisk air of the market day, and wind lashed the obsidian waves of my hair. I brushed them from my face. 

Suddenly, a hand shot out from behind a corner and seized my wrist in an incredible grip. Pain sank deep in my flesh and I cringed as a large shoulder formed out of the darkness. That’s her, a voice said from behind me.

Hired soldiers! I thought.

Take her!

Hey, watch it, mate! I heard Rias protest as another man grabbed him. I looked to Rias as he danced out of the man’s grip. His escape sent him tumbling to the ground and earned him a stiff kick to the stomach.

Sel, run! Rias bellowed as he leapt up and elbowed the large man who held me. The powerful grip released, and I pulled from the man’s grasp. I cast some of my Fear, of which I had an abundant amount at that moment, and my blazing orange light blinded the man. Rias then sent him flying off the bridge with a bull-like shoulder charge and seized my hand with his.

What is happening? I demanded.

I don’t know, but worry about that later, aye? Come on! He ripped me