Elijah - 3. Chapter 3: Damascus

I had arrived at the address Braden had given me. The driver had been skeptical when we arrived at the old, weather-beaten barn, but I told him I would be all right. At first, I thought it was a joke; I became furious and kicked a tree stump in anger. I had packed a lot of my things, called my mother, told her I had made friends and had been invited to stay with them over the winter holidays. Now I stood here, in the bleak middle of Riven, under looming, gray clouds, with my scarf barely keeping me warm. A stretch of road cut the moor from horizon to horizon.

I was still furious even as a sleek black car slid along the road and stopped beside me. A “suit” exited the car and opened the rear door. Braden emerged. The suit merely stood with a blank look. If the sun had been visible, it would have glittered off his bald head.

“Terribly sorry, running a bit late. Where are your things?” I leaned down, picked up my suitcase, and lifted it into the trunk. Braden watched with apparent idle amusement. We both got into the car. Braden slouched next to me. “It is a bit of a journey; we’re meeting my family there. We usually have good seats for the opening.”

“That’s good. When will we go over the stuff Taylor wants you to study?” The car began to move; despite the rough terrain, the ride was smooth. Luxurious.

“We will find time, I’m sure.” He leaned over me slightly and picked up a glass of amber liquid. He caught my eye as he did so. He was so close, I could smell whatever he was wearing; it smelled rich and lofty, and then the alcohol in the glass overwhelmed my senses.

“What is that?” I pointed as Braden took a swig.

“Scotch.”

“Your parents let you drink like that?”

“If my father ever took a minute to notice, probably not.” He took another sip. “Makes the day go by faster and the nights slower. I don’t mind it.”

I shrugged. My mother had never had a sip of alcohol in her life, and my father chose not to after his father’s car accident. I was never around it although I remember my friends nabbing a bottle from the store on the corner and getting drunk. I was curious, no… eager to taste it.

“Want some?” Had he read my mind?

“Sure.” He handed me the glass and I took a sip. It was rancid, it burned; I spit it out. Laughter exploded in the car.

“An acquired taste, to most. Probably the wrong drink to start you off on.” I returned the glass and flexed my mouth and tongue a few times; the aftertaste was all right, but initially, it was disgusting.

“We are not even of age,” I muttered.

“You are a tragedy; so what? You must be what? Sixteen? I’ll be seventeen in a month; we aren’t too many years off, plus… who is here to tell us otherwise? Remember this, if nobody can tell you otherwise, do it.” He downed the glass and smacked his lips. “You can sleep if you want; it will take some time to arrive.” Braden nestled back into the fine leather and leaned his head against the window. Blonde hair splayed across the glass. I did the same, however on the opposite side of the seat. My reflection stared back at me, average, poor, whatever I was right now. What was I to Braden? A friend? Not likely. Why would he invite me to the Damascus fair? To tutor him between events? Also unlikely. He didn’t seem at all interested in the packet Professor Taylor prepared. Perhaps he thinks I can influence the professor. Also unlikely. Why, then? The fair was a big deal: the news media covered it; royalty attended it. It was much more than just a fair.

Damascus was one of two port cities in Elijah. It had been the capital until Cathedral was built. Damascus was the location of The Revelation. That occurred when King Titian’s great, great, great grandfather, King Reginald, had conceived the notion to create the country of Elijah. The revelation had occurred under an oak tree, and that tree, the Great Oak, had become the center and focus of Elijah. A timeless grand oak that flourished during all seasons, it was miracle to some. A gift from God. The tree itself and the land beneath were sacred. Kings were crowned under the tree, in what is called “The Garden.” The great gate to The Garden is only opened only for two reasons: to crown a new King and to bury a dead one beneath Her roots.

The city itself is ancient. Most royalty had summer homes there; the port was bustling with trade; and it was a gem in the eye of the monarchy. It was a beautiful city, at least the postcards I’d seen made it seem that way, and I was on my way.

The fair was an ancient tradition that celebrated both the founding of Elijah and the successes enjoyed since its founding. The king opened it with a speech; he was followed by the famous Silas Dustmoon. The fair featured feasting, jousting, fencing, and other sporting events. It was also included a large trade convention with nomads from the north.

I had nodded off, and was awakened by a nudge in my ribs. I opened my eyes to find Braden’s face close to mine.

“Are you awake? We are almost there. Look.” I followed the direction of Braden’s striking eyes. We drove along a towering coastal highway, overlooking the Bay of Kings. At the tip of the cape, Damascus came into sight. The sun was setting. Its light crisscrossed the ocean, sending shattered beams across the coastal landscape. We approached the old part of the city, a place of marble structures and colonnades. Braden interrupted my wonder at what I was seeing. “We will attend a formal dinner with members of the nobility before the evening’s ceremonies. Wear something…nice.”

I nodded. There was nothing to say, really. We entered the city through a huge gate, one of many I’d seen as we had approached. The car glided over modern streets and past rows of modern buildings that must have housed a plethora of people. We pulled up to a large building that seemed to be made entirely of glass. The revolving door was flanked by men in the uniforms of royal guardsmen. It was obviously a hotel, rather than a private residence. A doorman opened my door and I stepped out. Braden came round from the other side of the car and gestured toward the doors. “Do you want to freshen up?” I glanced back at the car; the driver and a doorman were unloading luggage. I wanted to help, but knew I shouldn’t offer. I followed Braden into the building. The two guardsmen came to attention as we approached; however, it was not for me.

“The family usually uses this hotel. It is rather nice…” Braden’s voice echoed from the vaulted chamber. The foyer was elegant, but rather plain. There were banks of elevators on both sides. One elevator was guarded by men in civilian suits, men whose dark sunglasses reflected the phosphorescent light of the sun. I looked at them curiously; however, Braden’s hasty movements forced me toward an elevator. We rode up accompanied by stupid music. Braden whistled along with the music; I stood beside him with far more than twenty questions reeling in my mind. I would have to save them for later; I was to dine with nobility.

Part of my mind realized that my awe and fear of royalty was, well, silly. I had felt that way when my father’s commanding officer had visited once, for dinner. And he wasn’t even a noble! I had little experience with nobles, other than the occasional passing of one in a hallway at school. Who were these people, anyway? Influential people, people who supported the king and his various wars and projects? Or, simply, cultured remnants of the heroic people who had inhabited this world centuries ago? Yet, I was excited at the thought of a formal dinner with them. Or not. Perhaps Braden was just talking out of his ass.

No, Braden wasn’t fooling. I realized that when the elevator doors opened to an extravagant foyer that opened into a sitting room with a perfect view of the sea and the Damascus skyline. I hesitated at the elevator doors. Braden held the doors open and gestured to me. I shuffled past him.

“What do your parents do again?” I asked.

“Oh, well, my…Father!” Braden said the last work rather loudly, addressing a man who entered the foyer. He was a tall man, handsome, and wearing a fine suit. He and Braden shared the same eyes, but his father had darker hair and skin that looked as if it had seen much weather, perhaps even battle. Beside him stood Prince David.

“Ah, Braden…” A smile cracked the weathered face. Braden stood beside me and put his hand on my back. He pushed…Oh! I realized what the pressure meant, and made an awkward bow. The man continued speaking, “David and I were on the way to the reception. Change clothes, quickly, and join us.”

“Jeremy, is it not?” David’s musical voice filled the room. I breathed slowly and continued staring at the marble floor. He remembered me.

“Speak up boy,” Braden’s father growled. His voice was gravely, harsh.

“Yes, my Prince.” The pleasure I had felt because the prince had remembered me, chilled. In truth, I felt rather ashamed at my feelings. David’s gentle laughter filled the room. .

“Oh, none of that, please,” David said. “Please, rise.” I looked up to see the youthful face of the prince, and the calculating eyes of Braden’s father. David continued, “I was not aware you were…friends with Braden.”

I looked at Braden; his eyes shimmered as if he were trying to tell me something. He looked at David. “Yup, pals for a while,” Braden said. “So, we’ll see you downstairs…” His voice trailed off and he shuffled to the side, obviously to make a path for his father and the prince.

“Braden, bring your friend along as well. It will do us all some good to see a new face at the table.”

Braden bowed. “Your Grace.” His eyes moved to David. Braden nodded to David and asked, “Will your brother be there?”

“Of course, and he is much excited to see you.” David flashed a winning smile; Braden scowled.

“Lovely. All right then, cheerio you two…Jeremy and I have shit to do!”

“Language, boy.” As his father passed Braden, he gently slapped the back of his son’s head. The elevator chimed; the door opened and then closed behind the man and the prince.

Braden swore loudly. “That was not supposed to happen!”

“What wasn’t supposed to happen? The part where you are royalty, or the part where I finally figure it out?” I glared at my new “friend.”

“Not really…I mean…there was a reason…” Braden stalked off. I followed. I resembled a curious dog; I knew I did.

“What reason?” I demanded. I followed Braden into a lavish bedroom. The wall above the bed held a large portrait of a luxurious woman, sprawled on satin sheets. Braden didn’t give it a glance, but stripped off his shirt and trousers, leaving him wearing only boxers. My eyes wandered; I don’t know why.

“You had no idea who I was,” he said, as he went into a walk-in closet. I sank onto the bed and stared at my own reflection in a mirror. His voice came from the closet, “Or that I was…”

“A Duke’s son.”

“Yup. And that makes me a…”

“Lord of Province.”

“And that means…”

“I have no idea,” I said. I could hear hangers screeching. A tie, followed by a shirt and pants flew out and landed on me and the bed beside me.

“Try those,” he said. He leaned against the closet door, his shirt not quite buttoned. A tie hung loosely in his mouth as he maneuvered it with delicate fingers. I watched him, mesmerized. “It means it is hard to find somebody that doesn’t know me. I’m a big deal, you know.” He laughed at his own joke and vanished back into the closet. When he came back, he had his pants on. “My father is the Duke of Riven, and I am the only Lord Riven; my sister is the only Lady Riven; and the Duchess is dead.” His face did not change when he mentioned the Duchess, his mother. His voice did not change but remained rather matter of fact.

Braden had finished tying his tie and was smoothing out a suit coat before sliding it on. I changed quickly while he dipped back into the closet for shoes. I didn’t want him to see me in my shorts; I was ashamed of my body. Braden, however, had nothing to be ashamed of, at least from a bystander’s point of view. “My plan,” Braden said, tossing me a pair of dress shoes, “was to get here and enjoy myself with someone who was totally oblivious to who I was. That would be you.” He vanished again. I looked at myself in the mirror. Other than my hair having been destroyed by the wind, I was handsome. I smiled. I was, after all, handsome. Braden’s voice cut through my thoughts. “I would rather enjoy a weekend without my designer friends.” The word “friends” held sarcasm. At that moment, I felt, I felt wanted, I thought that there was more that Braden wanted to say, but he did not.

“We will be dining tonight with the king…he’s my father’s brother,” Braden said. I fidgeted and felt a little dizzy.

“Must we really?” I pleaded, I was frightened. The king? He was a big deal. A great man, noble, just, a crusader of Elijah. I was merely a subject, replaceable. I suppose this shows my lack of spirit for my country.

“I was planning on avoiding that part, but since my father intercepted us, and summoned, I must go. And,” he paused to straighten his tie. “You, as my guest.” The next few moments left me in a dazed and confused state. Braden whisked toward me. He put his hands on my shoulders and turned me to face him. He straightened my tie and smoothed the lapels of my suit coat. He was speaking; at least, his lips were moving. But I heard nothing. Then, he smiled and turned toward the door. I followed, blinking myself back to reality and catching my breath. He had been so close to me…

We took the elevator down a few floors. The doors opened to a wood-paneled corridor lined with guards armed with large, golden spears that glittered in the lights. As we walked past the guards, I felt hard eyes assessing and memorizing me. Each soldier stood at attention, pulling his spear into an upright position, as Braden, Lord Riven, passed. Actually, I thought it was kind of cool. Royalty. Sweet.

Another set of doors opened, another set of guards saluted Braden, and I looked upon a sea of people. All dressed to impress, goblets in hands, laughter, chatter. An elderly man with a large silver staff stood atop the staircase leading down into the mire of warm bodies. He noticed Braden and started banging the staff upon the marble.

“Braden Extolere, Lord Riven! And…”

“Uh… Jeremy Worthington…”

“Of what, lad?”

“Portalis.”

“Of Portalis!” I scurried next to Braden, and glared sideways. “What is this?”

“Gods be damned!” Braden breathed harshly. I followed about half a pace behind as he slowly descended the stairs to the accompaniment of flashbulbs of the photographers who were among the media members crowding the foot of the stairs. I gradually inched away from Braden, allowing him his stardom, or whatever this was. Jealousy wracked me for a moment.

As soon as we reached the foot of the stairs, the media turned their attention away from us. I moved closer to Braden, staying on his heels. From the stairs, I saw that this banquet hall took up an entire corner of the building. A panoramic view of the Damascus skyline provided visual entertainment. As we walked, the crowd seemed to flow with Braden’s movements; men bowed, women curtsied. I just trailed along, tongue flopping, tail wagging.

A blur broke from the crowd and assaulted Braden, gently, however. It was a pretty girl with brunette hair. She looked lovely, bathed in a white dress. I flushed as she pointed her finger harshly at Braden.

“Did you know this was going on?” she demanded.

“Nay fair maiden,” Braden mused, batting away the finger. “I just arrived.” He glanced back at me, her lovely brown eyes followed his.

“Who is that?”

“Friend from the Academy.”

“Ah, well I’m Lidia. Pleasure is yours I’m sure.”

I stared and immediately caught myself. “Your Highness,” I said as I retreated slightly and bowed before the Princess of Elijah.

“What did you wrangle, dearest Braden?” she asked, and then seemed to notice me. “Oh, please rise. We all get enough of that. I think the only people who relish it are our parents…speaking of…” She gestured toward Braden. “Your father is talking to the Duke of Belfala.” She struggled to contain laughter while Braden managed only partly to stifle a groan. “And Caleb is around doing…whatever it is he does.” She glanced at me, and then whispered something to Braden. He nodded, and she disappeared into the crowd, but not before giving me a mocking sneer.

“What’s wrong with the Duke of Belfala?” I asked. Braden ignored my question, tugging at my sleeve and pulling me along as he weaved through the crowd.

“Look,” he said as we navigated the crowd. “I apologize for all this. My plan did not work. I can have a car return you to Westfield, or your home, if you like.” He turned, gripping my shoulders and giving me a full view of his eyes.

My eyes darted from side to side. “Oh, well…uh…no…I quite like this.” I nodded, indicating the room, the people.

“Really?”

“Yes…” I said, although I hesitated. Why would I not like it? Didn’t he want me to like it? After all, he’d dressed me in clothing worth more than all the clothing I owned. No, more than all the clothing my brother and I both owned.

“Well…” he said. I saw from his eyes that he was thinking hard. About what? I do not know, but his contemplation was followed by an, “All right, then.” He released my shoulders and grabbed my arm. I followed him to a bar, where he ordered something for each of us. I sipped once, and my head felt instantly lighter. I kept drinking, and soon was feeling quite good as I shadowed Braden through the room.

I met the Duke of Belfala, Drasten Jiet, and later, his estranged daughter, Lady Georgia. Braden told me that his father thought he and Georgia would make a perfect match, and had been trying to get them together for years. The only problem was that Georgia and Braden loathed one another. Braden also introduced me to several ministers and officials of ministries, people whose names completely escaped me. Braden explained that ministers and officials pay hefty sums to the queen’s charities in exchange for an invitation to such an event as this. Most of the people, he said, were extended family, along with some incredibly wealthy members of society, as well as some provincial nobles.

Braden wandered off with some girl, allowing me to escape the constant handshakes, idiosyncrasies, and humming conversations. I finished my now-rancid drink and wandered onto the vast balcony that overlooked the skyline. I reached the edge, leaned over, felt dizzy, and stepped back. I thought of my family, a thought so fleeting that it frightened me. I realized that I did not miss them, but I could not understand why. Footsteps behind me eradicated that thought completely. I turned to see a boy, about my age.

He was dressed in a fine suit; his fine features came as a side dish. I assumed he was royalty, given the men in dark suits and sunglasses who now stood nearby. I stared at him in a daze, unsure if the alcohol was still affecting me. I felt light. The boy wandered closer; his neatly combed brown hair and his deep brown eyes dragged my attention to him. He joined me at the edge of the balcony. His voice had the same musical tones as had David’s; however, it was somehow more distant, calculating, and intelligent. I instantly was intimidated, and not just by the voice. Even the smile on his face seemed…false.

“It is a lovely city, is it not?”

“At night,” I replied staring out onto the skyline of Damascus. The buzz of traffic below ebbed and flowed, traveling up the tower we stood upon.

“And during the day?” The feeling of his eyes pressing into my cheek forced me to watch my words.

“Hot.”

Youthful laughter erupted forth.

“A truthful subject to the realm, refreshing,” he paused, resting slender hands upon the stone rail. “I am Caleb.”

“Yup. I know.”

“Do you? Is this how you receive a Prince of Elijah?” I glanced at him, unsure if I should smile or laugh, or cower.

“The only people who care for that are your parents.”

I had never witnessed a more dashing smile.

“I see you have met Lidia. Your integration skills are astounding, Jeremy. Braden told me briefly about you, in passing of course…” He added that lightly. I felt it was meant to offend rather than soothe. “It takes years for even an astute member of a community to find a chair at the tables within this dining hall. And you accomplished that in a night, impressive.” Caleb pushed back from the stone and made as if to depart.

“My Prince,” I inclined my head. “It was a spot of chance that I arrived here, you see…”

He held up his hand for silence.

“Chance? That has not existed in Elijah for centuries.” The prince turned, walked a few paces, and then turned back. “It is always nice to have someone different around the dinner table, don’t you think?” And then he was gone. I smiled to myself. No, I cheered for myself. I had managed to impress the youngest Prince of Elijah. And, he had said that chance did not exist.
My encounter with Caleb left me craving another drink. I took it to a plush booth where Braden was lounging with two young women, each of whom leaned over their respective piece of Braden.
“Jeremy, there you are…” He sat up slightly. “Ladies…!” One began to nibble at his jaw. “After dinner, please! Now, off with you.” Giggling, they whispered to him, and then departed. Braden grinned after them. “Enjoying yourself?” he asked me.

“Naturally, and you?” I asked. His blue eyes glanced at my drink. He motioned for me to sit next to him. I did so, while continuing to nurse my drink.

“I met Caleb.”

“Oh my, what did he do?” Braden asked. His voice seemed intense.

“Nothing.” I was curious as to the urgency in Braden’s voice.

“Surprising.”

“Is he really smart?” I asked. My finger traveled around the edge of my glass, swirling the liquid. I watched a mini whirlpool materialize.

“Incredibly. He lives in the libraries.” There was a dull pause as if to consider something more. “Caleb is most notorious for his…youthful excesses.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just things, you know. The crown controls enough of the media to soak up incidents that are better left unreported. However, it’s a constant battle. They enjoy following me around, too. Speaking of which…” Braden stood as a woman approached our table. I followed his example. “Ms. Vesyln, what a pleasant surprise.”

“Ah, my Lord, pleasant, indeed.” She was middle aged, but pretty. Her evening attire was rather revealing, but she was able to pull it off. A curtsey, and then, “Who is this strapping gentleman?” She gave Braden a look with her dark eyes before gracing me with a perfect smile.

“Jeremy Worthington, ma’am.” I returned the smile.

“And where do you hail from, Jeremy?”

“Westfield, Portalis, ma’am.” Her smile faded slightly.

“Ah, well, Braden, darling, we have not spoken in forever.” She glided forward, however Braden intercepted her with a wide gesture towards me.

“Forgive my manners, Jeremy. This is Rosaline Vesyln, of Cathedral Media, the only station watched here in Elijah.”

“Oh please, my Lord. We serve the Crown as needed; now we must chat! I was thinking of a new piece on you and your father. A stoic legacy.” She relished her work, this woman. Her professionalism, and her language, were rather slick and smooth.

“As much as I would enjoy such an interview, I must attend to dinner which should be quite soon. If you will excuse Jeremy and me…” He gave her a small nod and motioned for me to follow. I did. Rosaline Vesyln nodded cheerfully and departed.

My curiosity overcame me. “Nice lady.”

“Actually, rather vile, if you ask me,” Braden replied. We weaved through the crowd before stopping at another bar. Braden ordered a drink. I was already having trouble keeping up, so I declined. My judgment was impaired; I realized that I was drunk for the first time in my life. Everything looked…lovely, and I imagined it would feel lovely, too. Even the royalty. I blamed it on the unnatural substance in my body. Braden continued talking. “She is a reporter. Nightmarish. Professional. Gets what she wants. Knows ministry officials, and has a seat in the court. It is truly…amazing.”

“Can’t you have her…arrested or anything?”

“She has married four times, and each divorce moves her closer to the sum of the royal treasury,” Braden said, downing his drink. “Which amounts to a lot. Also, Cathedral Media is funded by the Jericho Corporation, which also funds our military.” He looked at me, and smiled. “It is all bothersome, really. It would just bore you. She just can’t be touched.”

I shrugged. “All right."

“So, smiles and exalted manners go quite far in dealing with her. Dinner is soon.” Braden was off again, and I followed, however, now I stayed at his side. “Remain standing until the king sits; no elbows on the table…the usual things your grandmother taught you.” My grandmother was dead. Braden continued. “You are my guest, so act like it. We are able to bring one guest, but no one does. They don’t last.” He said that last in an eerie, matter of fact way.

We left the buzzing reception room, walked down a corridor littered with more royal guards, and entered a vast dining room. Furnishings of gold and statues of marble: everything was elegant, pristine, perfect. Braden led me along a carpeted walkway to a raised platform on which a table sat. Ours, I was certain. Caleb was already there, chatting with Lidia. I felt his eyes on me as we approached. Lidia merely glanced at us, and continued talking. Braden gestured to a seat. “You will be sitting here.” I tore my eyes from Caleb. The doors opened and several men in black suits and sunglasses entered and took their positions near the windows. Royal guards entered from another door, and stationed themselves around the room. Caleb and Lydia took their places. People were ushered into the room.

It took nearly thirty minutes before everyone was at his or her assigned position. There were at least three hundred people in the hall. More and more people joined the royal table, which was far larger than I had first realized. High General Cartius stood at my right. He was a stout man, with a shadowy moustache. The epaulets on his shoulders seemed huge.

“Have you ever thought of enlisting, Jeremy?” He was on his fourth whiskey.

“It has not been on the top of my list, High General,” I felt silly, telling the highest ranked military official I was not the least bit patriotic.

“Oh well, I suppose the army is not for everyone.” He shrugged his burly shoulders and indulged in more alcohol. “I wanted to be a teacher you know!” he said. I smiled.

To my left was Her Grace, the Duchess of Telam, Heather Melrue. She was a famous woman within Elijah, the only ruling Duchess of a Province. Her husband had died in a car accident; rumor had it that she was responsible, but that was never confirmed and seldom spoken of. She was arguably the most powerful woman in the kingdom, besides the queen. I felt her eyes on me. She was a luxurious woman, at the cusp of her beauty despite her middle years. She leaned close to me, and her voice carried over the clamor of the hall with soothing reverberations.

“These events are such a drag,” she said.

I smiled and nodded to her. “Indeed, Your Grace.”

“Do you have a name, child?”

“Jeremy, Your Grace,” I replied rather courageously.

“And what have you done for Elijah to land you a seat at this table, Jeremy?” I felt hazel eyes pound into me, calculating, cool and calm. She did this for a living, I could tell.

“I was in the right place at the right time.”

“That seems to be the trend.” She raised her goblet to me and then began to speak to another man across the table. I shuddered. It seemed even the nobility doubted Elijah and His structure. Soon, more joined the table but I was to immersed with swirling the wine about my goblet. Caleb would glance fleetingly in my direction and I obliged with a small smile, but I was left in a foggy state of confusion when it came to the youngest Prince.

Victor Jericho, CEO of Jericho Corporation, joined the table. If a raven could turn into a human, it would be he. A beak-like nose, sleek dark hair, beady eyes. His expensive suit did him no justice and I was certain anyone who passed him would feel their skin crawl.

A choir of trumpets exploded into the room, ripping my attention from the oily Victor Jericho. Whispers and gossip stopped as the large doors swung open. A group of photographers stood between the doorway and a wall of security agents. The man who had announced Braden and me earlier entered and tapped his staff loudly, four times.

“Rise, the king approaches.” And the country rose.