The Changeling's Ghost (Thirteen Gates #1)

It's A Start

    Waiting for the first gate to open was usually like standing in line at Tesco. It didn't really take that much time out of your hour but it was a bother all the same. Then again, the bi-weekly trip to purchase groceries didn't include the nagging and ever present weight of your parents' expectations for your life. There usually wasn't even the thick and heavy silence that accompanied missing familiarity. Usually, I wasn't under so much pressure when we went out. Mum would glance back at her watch every few seconds, even though that didn't help. Dad coughed and would send her a look every time she did so. My mum was a strong and easily scary person, with curly hair like mine, but a darker brown color. That she help up in a bandana most of the time. My dad was as English as they come, with slicked back orange hair, a handlebar mustache, he even occasionally walked the halls of our house in a coat and cane, muttering about old literature. Neither of them payed strong attention to me, but then again, nothing new there.

     We were standing in one of the less desirable of locations where gate one would appear. Usually the stakes were lower and we could afford to wait until it arrived somewhere more pleasant, like the gazebo less than a kilometer from the house. Unfortunately, I no longer had that luxury, which why the three of us were standing behind one of the less put together pubs in Dinshire. There were crates of rotting vegetables on the ground and questionable liquids staining the earth. The smell was less than pleasant and I was already not in the best of moods.

    "How much longer do you suppose?" I asked, suppressing the urge to swing my keychain around my finger.

    I didn't merit a response. "Mum?"

    She glanced up, snapping out of her thoughts. "Hm? Asher, we've only at this for three minutes, have patience."

    I frowned, but luckily the archway to the back door of the pub start humming faintly and a dim blue glow appeared on the edges of the damp, wooden frame. Mum instantly stepped forward and pushed the door open, the blue light tracing outline, like she was walking through a bubble. Dad followed her, muttering under his breath. I followed, feeling very much like a dog. As I passed under the archway the iron charm on my keychain grew larger and morphed into a large wood and metal contraption, a crossbow. Additionally, I was now equipped with a thin iron breastplate and a quiver of arrows. I loaded the crossbow in ordinary manner, looking to my parents as Dad's ring stretched into a broadsword and Mum took off her glasses as her double blades appeared seemingly out of thin air. Nobody else could see our weapons as we left the pub and recollected ourselves on the street outside. I watched as Mum shot Dad a telling look.

    "Asher." Dad started, to get my attention. "We'll be a few towns over checking out the alert, but there's always a possibility that it's a distraction so that's while you'll be hanging around here until we get back. Keep track of the gate for us."

    My hope promptly jumped off a bridge and I was left with a sour aftertaste of confusion and disappointment. "I thought you needed me to help you look."

    "We do, we need you to look out here, son." Dad assured, patting my shoulder. " Scour the hills. Call us if you need help."

    I watched them climb into the car and drive off. Then I was left alone on the side of the street. As an expert in detecting when my parents were lying to me, I began to wander around and wonder about what I might have done wrong. Maybe if I was lucky I would stumble upon a gnome or wraith or something of like. Then at least I would have something to show for, other then walking around in the forest for an hour while I waited for them to come back.

    The thought of sneaking after them came to mind, I don't know why they always insisted on keeping me separate from all the missions as of late. I could help. I was a valuable and skilled asset to them. I... I could help. They just didn't believe me, or listen to me, or take any interest in me whatsoever. Okay they're not that bad, but I do wish they'd take notice in some of my accomplishments. Or at least something else besides lightheartedly mocking the amount of time I spent getting ready for the day. A man is only as good as his wardrobe. Especially now that that considerably large moon that blocked all of the light from my parents had finally moved along its celestial path. My knuckles turned white against the dark wood of my crossbow as I unconsciously tightened my grip.