Legend Land: Tale of the Nameless God

Chapter 8.1: Tight Spaces

Part 1

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Aberlocke opens the door on the second knock.

"You again?" He sneers, peering down his nose at us, monocle glinting. I don't reply, pushing past him. Wikolia follows suit behind me, leaving the butler gaping in the doorway. Was he looking forward to a response? I bet he was preparing for it all day.

I adjust the diamond on my shoulder and stretch my neck. Thanks to the enchantments it's not that heavy, but it's still awkward to carry.

The Wyvern hasn't spoken a single word to me since we left Kamapua'a's house. I don't blame her. I honestly wouldn't want to talk to me right now, either. My boots are loud and leave dirty stains with each step; she pads softly behind me. If you don't listen for it, you can't even hear her breathing. For the record, it's slow and even; it doesn't change when she's dismembering foes.

"Aberlocke, fetch me some wine. We're having trouble at the mint again, and these damn bankers are like leeches." Midas says, nose buried in papers and reports. I set the diamond down on his large desk. He looks up and frowns, then goes back to skimming through his folders. "I don't have time for you and whatever this is; Marinette is downstairs," He waves his hand and picks up another folder. I heave the diamond back up, my eyes narrowing behind my mask. I should run him through right now. What am I thinking? No. Just take a breath Namonai.

I begin to walk away, but I hear him call out behind me, "Third door on your right, straight ahead!" I don't know why Midas is being helpful. It makes me uneasy.

I stop in front of the third door and take a deep breath. Come on Namonai, stick to your guns, you can do this. Stand up to her. Wikolia moves past me, opening the door abruptly and stepping into the room. With a whirl of white, Marinette throws several large sheets over a long steel table. My eyes flick from the gray hand hanging over the side of the table, to Marinette, to the bubbling beakers and vials behind her.

"You got it!" Marinette exclaims, eyes lighting up. Wikolia crosses her arms, leaning against the wall. Marinette takes a step forward and I drop the diamond at her feet. She looks up at me and frowns. "Did something happen?"

"He killed Kamapua'a," Wikolia mutters from her corner. She crinkles her nose and taps her scales. Is this her being irritated? Marinette straightens, wrapping her cloak around herself tighter.

"Ah," Marinette says, tapping her chin. "That is unfortunate. But now we have the drill bit. Next we'll need the actual operating mechanism. Since the bit itself is humongous in size, we'll need something of industrial strength. At the docks of—"

"No," Marinette's eyes widen in surprise. One second later the shock is gone and she's smiling, tilting her head at me.

"Come now Namonai, surely we can—"

"No," I interrupt. I jam my hands into my pockets and round my shoulders. I shouldn't have to do what I did to Kamapua'a again, it's not my place. But who else will do it? That's not my problem. It's not...is it?

"We'll erase your debts, shower you with—"

"I've heard enough," I cut her off, turning my back.

"Don't you dare walk out that door, Namonai!" She screeches. The last time I did what you told me to do, Marinette, a good man died. I twist the knob and open the door, stepping out. That won't happen again.

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The bustle of the city is a welcome distraction. Maybe it'll free me from my thoughts. Yeah, right. And I'm the queen's consort. These conversations with myself never stop, just like my mind. I guess it could be worse. I could be getting followed by a blindfolded reptilian assassin who radiates disapproval. Oh wait.

Wikolia has practically been my shadow since I left Midas' mansion. She still isn't talking to me, but at least she's doing me a favor and not hovering just out of my eyesight. That would drive me crazy.

"Stop!" I turn to make sure nobody's speaking to me. It's not uncommon; I'm a popular guy. Sometimes. Not really.

We're on the border between the industrial section of Malor, the Bellows, and the Jungle. Right between the lower middle class, and the low class, of which yours truly is a proud member. "I said stop!" Who is that?

"Just shut your trap!" I hear shouted in the distance. I follow the voices, quickening my pace. As I get closer, I hear the tell-tale sounds of a scuffle. Wikolia continues to follow me, as usual. A young boy is pressed against the wall of a crumbling building. A large man is holding him there. The man's bearded face is pressed what must be uncomfortably close to the boy. In the alley, to their left, a pool of blood slowly spreads from underneath a woman.

"Let me go!"

"Not after what you did, boy." The man hisses, his hands tugging at the boy's clothes.

"Why don't you help him?" I whisper in the Wyvern's direction. "You saw this long before I did. Why didn't you do anything?"

"He'll get what's coming to him in the Underworld," Wikolia hisses, perched atop a lamp post. "They always do."

"He could get what's coming to him now," I retort. Her tongue flicks out and she turns in my direction.

"Now, later. What does it matter? He will be punished either way," She says. Her whips remain still by her side.

"By saving others you punish and become a hero," I reason. Wikolia's nostrils flair. She drops down next to me.

"A hero? Is that how you see yourself?" She asks, stepping closer.

"Of a sort," I reply. I'm not a hero, but the people can think what they will.

"Then you save him," She says. 

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Inspired by: "King of Amarillo" by Issues

So who's right here, Wikolia or Namonai? The answer is nobody! None of my characters are ever right about anything because they're ignorant, mean, people. Haha, but seriously, lemme know what you think in the comments.

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Beta Readers/Editors:

Alyssa Clark

Elizabeth Foran

Mandy Barfield

Jordan Thacker

Raiden Jackson