Mask: Four Regions, #1

Mask

A Four Regions Story

Andrea Fink

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental (and kind of awesome).

Copyright © 2020 Andrea Fink

Cover design and illustration by Jeff Brown Graphics

All rights reserved.

ISBN-13: 978-1-7351758-3-6

Published by

Dad,

I learned something.

Contents

1.Chapter One

2.Chapter Two

3.Chapter Three

4.Chapter Four

5.Chapter Five

6.Chapter Six

7.Chapter Seven

8.Chapter Eight

9.Chapter Nine

10.Chapter Ten

11.Chapter Eleven

12.Chapter Twelve

13.Chapter Thirteen

14.Chapter Fourteen

15.Chapter Fifteen

16.Chapter Sixteen

17.Chapter Seventeen

18.Chapter Eighteen

19.Chapter Nineteen

20.Chapter Twenty

21.Epilogue

22.Wave - A Four Regions Story - Prologue

23.Wave - Chapter 1

24.About the Author

25.The Four Regions Series

Chapter One

She blinked up at the sky as she came to. Her head was spinning. She slowly began to make out shapes around her. The deep blue sky had streaks of thin, wispy clouds running through it. Far away, she could see a line of treetops to her left that abruptly gave way to the wide clearing in which she was lying. Soft stems radiated from multiple spots, pressing into her back and legs. She turned her head further; her long blonde hair was tangled in the tips of ferns.

Don’t stir yet, a man’s voice said from her right. It will take some time to adjust. Just relax. His voice was muffled and echoed within her own head.

She ignored the advice and tried to sit up, regretting it immediately. The entire earth shifted below her, tilting to the right. She fell back into the sea of ferns. Questions spun through her head—Where was she? How did they get here? Was anyone around to cry out to for help? Her mouth was dry as she began to speak, What did you do to me? It came out nearly a whisper.

There was a long pause before she felt his hand on her arm. The cold from his fingers spread through her arm quickly. Normally, the sensation would have given her chills, but in this instance it relaxed her tension. The stranger’s touch was terrifying but steadying as it gave her a stable point of reference in this new place. Her senses began to clear. Birds chirped from far away in the bank of trees; no familiar calls, but she sensed they were peaceful sounds.

Despite his sudden speaking, the peaceful calm remained when he began, I apologize for not asking your permission—I knew you would not believe what I had to tell you until we were here. My attempts to explain before were not successful, so I did what had to be done. I brought you here by a sort of portal—a tear in the world. I opened it to get to you and to bring you here. The journey can make many feel unsteady. You should be feeling well enough to get up soon and we can continue on. It would be beneficial to have context as I explain why you are so desperately needed.

As she continued to lay on the bed of ferns, her memory of the moments before her unconsciousness began to come back to her. She remembered the knock on her door; it was strong and abrupt. This lean, sharply-dressed man carrying an unconscious woman in his arms pushed by Emily to enter. The woman looked eerily familiar, but at the same time Emily did not recall ever meeting her. Emily felt unsafe around this stranger and concerned for the woman he carried. She had helped put the woman in her own bed while keeping the stranger in her sights in case he tried anything. Emily hadn’t been drinking or eating anything, so he likely did not drug her in order to bring her to this place. He had told her that it was her sister. That was all she could recall. Again, her mind was flooded with questions. I don’t have a sister, is all she could manage to say.

You do. She has lived here her whole life with your father. She is my dearest companion and -

I have no sister, She cut in. I have no father. You have the wrong person. I’m going home. Please point me in the right direction. She again tried to get up but attempted it too quickly. When she made it to her feet, she had to settle back down to the ground. She could see more now—the field of ferns reached for at least a hundred meters in every direction. To the left they continued into the wall of trees, which was as thick as if it were old-growth. To the right they reached until she could no longer see beyond them through a thick wall of fog. This field seemed to be a clearing between two walls. Before her was only the grass of ferns, so thick and lush she could only see green. Perhaps there was something else beyond the horizon, but for now all she knew was that there were ferns. She turned around to see a mountain range in the near distance behind her, while a dirt road crossed the field a few dozen meters away.

When she turned back around, he was standing in front of her with his hand stretched out. His blue coat sleeve was powdered with spores from the ferns. She took his hand and tried to use it to pull herself up, but instead he hoisted her up with ease. As she found her footing, she looked up into his face. His eyes were narrow but so dark she could not tell his iris from his pupil. His messy, dark hair was dusted with more spores. As he prepared to speak, his thin lips parted, letting out a deep sigh, I suppose you’re right. My apologies. Let me help you back to town so we can get this all sorted out. My name is Will.

She had no reason to trust him, but if he were going to harm her, she assumed he would have done so by now. She brushed off her sundress, which was also covered in debris from the ground. She felt scrapes up and down her arms. I’m Emily, she said rather abruptly, just show me the way home.

Emily stepped over and through clusters of ground cover which scratched at her calves, making her way slowly to the road she had seen before. She fell a handful of times—there was no set trail to go by. Will tried to help her up once or twice, but she shook him off each time—his cold hands no longer comforting, they just reminded her how dangerous this situation was. She hoped someone would drive by and offer them a ride so she wouldn’t have to be alone with him. As she reached the road, she found Will had already beaten her there, despite him following close behind her nearly the entire way.

He held his hand out to help her over the last bit and up onto the road, but she refused, instead choosing to clamber up rather clumsily. She again had to brush herself off, removing the fern bits, spores, and now dirt from her dress. The stains would not come out easily. She looked back toward Will to see his entire suit was spotless and his hair was neat, clean, and styled back. She thought to ask how but preferred to keep their conversation to a minimum. She just crossed her arms to point in both directions, as if to ask where they were headed.

He pointed to her left, into the fog that had not lifted since she had regained consciousness. She pivoted in that direction and began walking quickly. The sooner this adventure was over, the better. She had no idea where she was, so she already assumed it was going to be a long journey. The nearest forest to her city was at least twenty miles away, and this did not even look like that one. The mountain looked nothing like the mountains she could see from home, the trees did not look native to her area, not even the birds sounded familiar.

The flats on her feet began to dig into the backs of her heels. The soles of her feet became sore. Despite this, the wall of fog hardly seemed closer than it had been when they began walking. She turned around—still no cars to pick them up.

As she got closer to the wall of fog, it became cooler and cooler. She no longer felt comfortable in just her sundress. She wished she had a sweater with her—then she would have not only warmth but also pockets; her pockets would have her phone so she could call someone or even have a map to show her where to go so she wouldn’t have to rely on this stranger. Just as she shivered, a coat went over her arms. She turned her head to see Will straighten the shoulder of his own coat over her shoulder and step back to his respectable following distance.

They came to the wall of fog and Emily stopped. It looked as if it were a storm churning behind a wall of glass. She reached out to touch it with just one finger. It was ice cold. As she withdrew her hand, a tuft of fog chased it, swirling and disappearing into the air around her. She looked to her side to find Will right there. He looked at her and nodded solemnly, closing his eyes as he did so. He then stepped into the fog, disappearing. The only trace of him was the fog that escaped the wall as he went in.

Emily turned around to look at the wall of trees in the far distance. She was tempted to walk toward them, away from this stranger and the abyss in her path, but the forest looked just as threatening. She took a deep breath and turned back to the fog. She saw an arm sticking out. The sleeve was rolled up and she noticed the definition in the muscles. The hand was held up, just as it had been when Will was offering to help her up onto the road. Emily took it and he pulled her in. The initial, painfully icy feeling lasted only a few seconds, but she continued to be unable to see for at least fifty steps. She wasn’t sure if she should breathe in the vapor but knew she could not hold her breath the whole time. Will’s hand pulled her along—and that was the only part of him she could see. She would not have been able to walk forward if it were not for him tugging at her. The sea of white slowly got darker—first in shades of gray, then a pitch black.

As the fog finally gave way, Emily saw Will against the backdrop of an old colonial town at night. The only light came from lamps in windows and hanging from doorways. It was quaint—like the setting of a movie about the American Revolution, but with an air of coziness. She hadn’t seen any of the lights or heard any of the noises just moments before, but now she was standing just feet away from a building from which she could hear loud, live music and even louder shouting. She could smell coal burning, but not in crisp, cool air like she did at home. Instead, there was a humid evening coolness that foretold an impending storm.

Will turned toward Emily and readjusted her hand in his so he was holding just the fingertips. He looked into her eyes and she knew he was about to tell her something she wasn’t going to want to hear, I’m sorry to trick you into this, but I will do anything to save my fiancée’s life. You are about to realize how much I am asking of you and it will not be fair to you. If you don’t do as I say, however, you will be in even more danger than you are right now. His eyes shifted toward the door of the building, which was opening and letting out more of the clamor from inside. Someone was leaving.

While he was distracted, Emily snatched her hand away from his grip. She turned, determined to make a run for it when, without looking, his hand darted to her and grabbed her securely, but not forcefully, by the wrist. He looked back at her with even more concern in his eyes, almost pleading, but his voice was stern, Your name is Daughter of Champion, but insist they call you Highness unless I indicate otherwise. There is no turning back now. You have to trust me and stay calm. He pulled her to the door.

Emily was startled by what she saw when she went inside. She tried to focus on the decor first. The brick walls were mostly free of decoration and painted white. There were metal tables and chairs toward the center of the room while the outer walls had booths made of stone. The floor, too, was made of stone. It was cold and unwelcoming at best, but the room was still filled with individuals. The sound of metal scraping against stone was frequent as patrons were constantly getting up, pushing their chairs out, and moving about. The patrons were hard to ignore, and not just because of the overwhelming noise they created with their conversations, arguments, and clumsy motions.

Emily’s mind had trouble wrapping around what she was seeing. It was as if a circus sideshow act had been revived and had come to this town. At first glance, she saw whole groups of men who were uncommonly tall and slender. At one long table she saw more little people than she had ever seen in her life, not to mention more scattered about the room with other groups. As she continued to look more closely, things got even stranger. Not only were there people with eerily pale skin and white hair, but hues of skin and hair she did not think possible—purples, grays, and oranges. There were people covered with hair, people with scales, people with horns. One such person noticed them walk in, even amongst all of the commotion. He slammed down his drink, stood from his table, and walked toward them.

Emily got a better look at this—should she call it a person? He stood at least seven feet tall, broad-shouldered and muscular. His skin was gray and his black hair covered not only his head and chin, but also his legs where they protruded from pants that were made far too short for his height. Below his short, thick leg hair she was surprised to find hooves instead of shoes. She tried to imagine him walking on tiptoes or binding his feet to fit into the hooves. No matter how much she tried, she could not imagine a way to fit regular feet inside costumed hooves of that size. His horns came out of his forehead above his eyes and curved around the outside of his head, almost like a crown. He looked at Emily with the same curious fascination she must have been giving to him, though his was given with slightly less revulsion.

He stopped in front of her where she stood in the doorway and his deep voice boomed, Highness, with all due respect, why are you wearing such ridiculous clothing? What would possess you to show that much skin? The tables within earshot turned to look, as well.

Emily looked down at her sundress, then back at the patrons of this establishment. She was clearly inappropriately dressed. Although this place seemed very casual, everyone was dressed in fashions reminiscent of days long ago, when even the working-class men would wear a neck scarf to work and women wore only full-length dresses with coats. Her bare calves felt very out of place. The chevron pattern of her sundress seemed out of date. I… she began, pulling Will’s coat tighter across her chest.

She didn’t notice that Will had entered the door and stood beside her. You would not believe us if we told you. His voice sounded relaxed and cunning—a tone Emily had not heard from him before. Will laughed and patted the monster on the arm with his right hand, and the horned man did the same. Good to see you, Brawn.

And you, your Lordship, Brawn’s focus was on Will now, though he glanced over occasionally to eye Emily’s attire, What brings you to our edge of the world? Nothing too political, I hope. He stepped back to examine Will’s outfit, You look in a state yourself. Where did you get these dressings? They look like they were made for one half your size. Brawn pulled at the collar of the fitted, button-up white shirt with his massive fingers.

Will chuckled again, his eyes nearly disappearing as his cheeks rose. He had told her there would be danger, but she could not tell by his attitude. I assure you, they were appropriate for the time and place of our business, but now we must change. Without another word, he again patted Brawn’s arm and walked off to what looked to be the bar.

Aye, he slammed his hand against the stone bar and got the attention of a slender, pale woman with long, braided red hair and red eyes who was cleaning a mug, Her Highness and I each require a room for the day, and may I please have the bags I left yesternight.

She handed him two bags from behind the bar and pulled out a large book and a quill, Sign here.

Will signed Will of Capital on the first available line. He let his left hand linger on the page as he handed the quill to Emily. As she approached the book, she noticed his finger was on the word Capital and he tapped it twice before moving away. Emily squared herself to write, blowing on the page lightly to dry the ink Will left before signing—a habit picked up from a lifetime of ink staining the side of her left hand as she wrote. She noticed the book was not made of paper, but rather bound parchment. She signed Daughter of Champion of Capital in cursive on the space under Will’s name. It had been ages since she’d written anything but her own signature in cursive, it felt clumsy and unnatural—even stranger than writing someone else’s name.

The barkeeper closed the book and placed it back behind the bar, exchanging it for two copper keys, Nine and ten. Out by two hours after dark. No exceptions, even for her, she cocked her head toward Emily.

Chapter Two

They ascended a metal staircase in the back and came to the third floor where they stopped at rooms with metal doors and numbers nine and ten engraved on them. Will held one of the bags out to her, which seemed to be made of animal hide. She opened it to find deep purple cloth bundled up inside. Will also handed her the key with 10 engraved on it, Go get dressed, take a moment to yourself. I will be in the next room ready for questions. Can I trust you to be on your own?

Emily could only nod. She had been able to say one word since she arrived, and even that had been a struggle in her state of confusion. She wouldn’t dare go back downstairs alone. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to go back down even with company, but she knew she wouldn’t have to until two hours after dark. But what time was it? How long did she have? She unlocked the room and the heavy door squeaked on the hinges. She locked it behind her. Inside was a simple bed and a metal dresser—that was it. Emily threw herself and the bag onto the bed, upon which was a pelt blanket. Emily curled up on her side and ran her fingers through the animal’s soft fur. She lay there for what seemed like both an instant and an eternity, grounding herself in the calm and quiet of the unfamiliar room.

There was no sideshow. This was no convention. This was no film set. She was in a real place with real monsters and a charming stranger whom she had just met told her she was in real danger. She weighed her options. She could run away, back to the ferns, and try to find her way on her own. She would have to go through the bar, though. Brawn might see her—anyone might see her—and mistake her for this other person again. She would have no idea where to go, how to find this...portal, was it? How would it even work? Her other option would be