Chapter 11: Arcturus

“Well, look who decided to finally show up,” Saros said, clapping as Arcturus approached the woodcarver’s cart. “We’ve been waiting ages for you, Arc!”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry!” Arcturus replied, feeling slightly guilty. “Mr. Zelione wouldn’t let me go until I finished organizing the back room. Do you know how long that takes?”

“No we don’t, nor do we care,” Cassiopeia said as she leaned against the side of the cart, her arms folded. Her silky black hair was pulled back tightly, and colorful pins were stuck into various areas of her dress. “What’s important is that you’re here and we can get this over with.”

“Patience, young Cassie,” Saros said solemnly, acting as though he were some old, wise sage. Cassiopeia rolled her eyes at the nickname.

Inside the spacious cart, Saros bent down, rummaging through the contents hidden inside. Arcturus could still see wisps of his light brown hair sticking up through the opening as he crouched. The brightly painted cart was decorated with intricate wooden figures, each neatly perched on its shelves. Statues of birds, animals, flowers, and trees sat in the back while the front was filled with various sun-inspired figures, some hanging on thin metal chains. Not surprising—those ones must be particularly popular with the upcoming festivities.

Arcturus reached over to touch one, a generic sun charm attached to a chain. It was no bigger than his thumb, but as he felt its smooth and polished edges, he could easily see the expert craftsmanship behind it. The intricate lines carved within it and the perfect proportions of the sun rays, painted flawlessly without a stroke out of place. He wondered how much time the woodcarver spent to make such a tiny thing. Arcturus released the charm before Saros finally rose up.

“Here it is!” he announced triumphantly. He lifted the object to the top of the cart and set it down on the ledge. Cassiopeia and Arcturus instantly leaned in, their interest piqued.

A mysterious purple box lay before their eyes, its gold trim glinting in the sun. It was fixed in an odd shape, its edges curved and molded in some ancient design. The large golden lock held the lid in place with a single keyhole. Arcturus was surprised at the sheen of the gold, considering the box looked old and worn out.

“You like it? Fabian found it in the back of the store a few weeks ago. Said it belonged to his father or the Terris Court officials or something, I can’t really remember. Anyway, it’s useless to him without the key. So, guess which loyal apprentice he gave it to?” He pointed at himself proudly.

“You mean his only apprentice?” Arcturus pointed out, earning a wave of Saros’ hand.

“What do you think is inside?” Cassiopeia asked Saros, ignoring his boasting.

“Well, definitely something valuable. The box itself looks ancient!”

“You think it’s gold? Or jewels?”

“Why not both?”

“Or it could be some ancient artifact,” Arcturus added, “with hidden secrets of the Terris Court. It looks like a lot of work was put into concealing it.”

“Well, whatever it is, I’m sure we could make a fortune selling it.”

“Are you mad, Saros? We can’t sell something so rare,” chided Cassiopeia.

“Well then what do you propose we do with it?”

“We don’t even know what it is yet!”

“Quiet! Both of you!” Arcturus cut in. “You’ll get everyone in the marketplace to hear about it, and then there’ll be no fortune to even speak of.”

“Speaking of which,” Cassiopeia turned to Saros, “why would you show us the box here? In the marketplace? The most populated center in all of Aldebaran?”

“Well, I can’t just leave my post! Fabian would strangle me if I left his cart on the job!”

Cassiopeia continued to marvel at the box as Arcturus reached for the lock, feeling the smooth, cold metal rub against his skin. He tapped on it gently, its weight pressed against his hand, trying to decipher what kind of metal it may be.

“It’s a nice box, I suppose,” Cassiopeia shrugged. “But I’m more concerned about what’s inside. Are you able to pick the lock, Saros?”

He clicked his tongue. “I already tried. It’s too difficult. Whoever constructed this lock really knew what they were doing.”

“What if you used my lockpick?” she suggested. Saros had given Cassiopeia a small gift some time ago: a personal lockpick, constructed to best even the most complicated of locks. She carried it with her wherever she went, and it proved useful in many situations.

Though perhaps not this one.

“I told you, the lock can’t be picked. We need the key.”

“And do we have the key?”

“No, but—”

“So it’s useless to us then?”

“We don’t have any other option besides unlocking it,” Arcturus cut in, finally recognizing the metal. “That lock is made of solid Sofilium. Whether we try to burn it, break it, dissolve it, or hack through it, it won’t budge. I doubt even your Ram Strength would be enough to break this lock, Saros.”

“My dear friends, you never let me finish.” Saros shook his head, a devilish grin across his face. “Who said anything about burning, breaking or hacking?”

“Well, then, what do you suppose we do? Please, enlighten us with your mystical wisdom,” Cassiopeia retorted sarcastically, still not impressed.

Saros’s hand reached within his pocket, his eyes staring straight at her and still smirking as he pulled out the trinket.

Cassiopeia’s eyes widened. “You have the key?”

“I knew you’d be impressed!” Saros’ mischievous smirk was suddenly replaced with a bright smile. “Also, no. This isn’t the box’s original key. I made this one.”

Even Arcturus couldn’t contain his astonishment. “How in the stars did you manage that?”

He shrugged. “It was no problem. I just studied the shape of the keyhole, took some measurements, carved some wood to fit in the lock. That’s all it took, really.”

“Well, does it work?”

Saros smirked again. “I suppose we’ll find out now.”

The three gathered around the box, each trying to shield the view from villagers passing by. Arcturus’ heart sped up as Saros inserted the key, purposely proceeding as slowly as possible.

“Oh, just hurry up already!”

“I’m trying to create suspense, Cassie!”

“Don’t call me Cassie.”

“Of course. My apologies, Miss Zagreus.”

“Saros, I swear to the stars, just open the box!” Arcturus said with exasperation.

Saros’s fingers gripped the key tightly as he gently turned it clockwise, feeling the mechanisms within the lock press against the wood. He meddled with it frantically, his eyes focused and unyielding. Arcturus watched on anxiously, but started to silently lose hope as the minute passed.

“Saros, just give it up. Maybe your key doesn’t work?” he said as gently as he could.

“No. No, it has to work.” Saros’s dark eyes still lay determined. Sweat trickled down his face, and Cassiopeia began to step away, slightly disappointed.

“Wait, wait! I got it!” His eyes widened with excitement. Cassiopeia came forward, and the three huddled closer again.

With a small click, the lock came undone, and fell onto the ledge with a small thud. Saros reached for the lid, gently grasping his fingers around the edges, and lifted it up to reveal its hidden treasures.

“A necklace? Is that it?” Saros said, sounding slightly insulted. “All that trouble for one necklace?”

Arcturus gently picked it up. “It’s a locket, actually.”

“What difference does it make?”

Arcturus meddled with the sides, trying to pry open the latch. With a small click, it instantly came loose, and Arcturus peered at the inside.

“There’s something written in it,” he observed. Saros came forward to take a closer look.

“What language is that?” Saros immediately asked.

“I…don’t know.”

“Let me see,” Cassiopeia said as she peered at the small words. “Hmm…Not any Ophelian script. I don’t recognize any of those letters. Perhaps it’s from a neighboring kingdom?”

“We can search the library one day. I’m sure it will have some sort of useful information,” Arcturus suggested. “But not today, of course. We still have to get back to work.”

“Well then, who will keep the necklace safe until then?”

“Locket.”

“Thank you for volunteering, Arcturus.”

“What? Why can’t you keep it in the box?”

“Do you think I can be trusted with such a prize?”

“We don’t even know how valuable it is.” Arcturus pointed out.

“Anything locked away in a box like that has got to be worth a great deal.”

Cassiopeia sighed dramatically. “Let me keep it then, before you two squabble yourselves to death.” She reached her hand out to Arcturus, who dropped the locket onto her palm. She gently unlatched the chain, and drew it around her neck, locking it in place at the back. Cassiopeia tucked the locket underneath her shirt, hiding it from view.

“Are we all happy now?” she asked sarcastically. Saros and Arcturus nodded simultaneously. “Good. It’s settled then.”

“Thank you, dear Cassiopeia,” Saros said as he took her hand, falling to his knees in gratitude. “You are our savior. What would we do without you?”

“Probably get yourselves hanged. Now think nothing more of it. I can’t stand you insufferable morons.” She looked away, clearly trying to stifle a smile as she drew her hand away.

“I do have one question, though,” Arcturus said, turning to Saros. “If you’ve had the key at your disposal, why didn’t you open the box before today? You would have had all the riches for yourself. Why wait for us?”

“Why, Arcturus! I’m surprised at you. I thought you’d know me better than that,” Saros said in response, getting up off his knees. “You really think I would experience such a historic moment alone? If we found riches in that box, you think I wouldn’t share it with the two of you?”

Arcturus gaped at him in surprise.

“We’ve done everything together since we were twelve,” he continued. “How could I possibly abandon you? Both of you.”

Cassiopeia looked away again. “Enough with the emotional nonsense,” she said with a quiet laugh.

Saros chuckled as he glanced back at her. “No, Cassie. I am serious.” He looked at Arcturus. “What would I do without the both of you?”

✦✦✦

“Gently, Arcturus. That elixir is in no rush,” Mr. Zelione called from the front. Arcturus immediately slowed down, carefully stirring the mixture in his cauldron. Mr. Zelione finally allowed him to brew on his own, and he was in no hurry to get that privilege taken away.

“Yes, sir,” he called back.

Three other cauldrons actively boiled around him. They usually didn’t brew this many at once, but with news of the king’s mysterious illness leaking out, it seemed all of Aldebaran was frantic for Rebecin, the fever remedy. Of course, Arcturus wasn’t complaining. Mr. Zelione would easily make quick money from the hysteria, though it would come at the cost of having to brew so much more Rebecin at once.

“Only a few days left until the solstice, sir,” Arcturus said, trying to make light conversation amid the stress.

“So there is.”

“What do you intend to do for the celebration?”

Mr. Zelione quickly flipped through pages of a dusty book. “I don’t know.”

“I hope you aren’t planning to work.”

“Perhaps I just might.”

“Sir! It’s one of the biggest celebrations of the year!” Arcturus looked at him with astonishment. “You really can’t spend the holiday working. Who would come in for some medicine on the solstice? Besides, isn’t your son’s family visiting?”

“I’m afraid not. They are too busy this year.”

“Then you should go to the marketplace festival. In fact, I could even take you there.”

“Arcturus, that’s very kind, but—”

“No. It’s settled. You will have fun, sir.”

A small smile formed on Mr. Zelione’s face. “Hmm…perhaps that would do me well.”

Arcturus finally stopped stirring and put out the burning fire beneath the cauldron, allowing the mixture to cool. After a few minutes, he picked up one of the glass vials for storage, and ladled the liquid into the bottle, carefully trying not to drip onto the counter. He turned back to the cauldron, preparing another vial, when he noticed the line of glass gently vibrating, slightly knocking into each other. He turned to Mr. Zelione, both of their eyes narrowing with confusion.

“Do you hear that?” his master asked, clearly concerned. Arcturus stilled, and he suddenly heard the hundreds of thudding noises coming from the outside. Mr. Zelione froze in his place as the room started to tremble. The glass bottles on the shelves jumped to a rattle as they waited nervously, wondering what the source could possibly be. A muted roar joined in the thudding, dull and haunting.

“What is that?” Arcturus whispered, still frozen.

A scream pierced the air, followed by many others. A group of people rushed past the window, terror etched on their faces. Arcturus ran to the door, his heart beginning to pound, desperate to see what was happening outside.

Villagers bolted in all directions, the normally peaceful streets erupted in chaos. Children cried as their parents violently dragged them by the arm, desperate to get away. Behind them, shops were covered in flames, the dull roar heard earlier now much louder. He saw a worker stumble out, desperately trying to rip off his burning apron.

In the center of the road stood a group of warriors, cloaked in the blackest of armor, the fire around them glinting off it in a sinister red. Masks covered their faces, and sleek silver swords hung at their sides. They sat atop the strongest of horses, much larger than the ones usually passing through the village. Arcturus watched in horror as one of them lifted their burning torch and chucked it at the building at their side.

“No! Cassiopeia!” he yelled. The fire was beginning to take hold of the tailor’s shop, slowly spreading through the walls. Without thinking, Arcturus burst through the door and dashed across the road.

“Arcturus! Get back here!” Mr. Zelione shouted hoarsely from the front door, but Arcturus didn’t look back. All he could think about was getting to his friend.

Just before he could reach the shop, Cassiopeia, Pheone, and the other apprentice—Evalien—burst out the door, carrying buckets of water. They tossed the water onto the walls, quenching the flames. Cassiopeia’s eyes met Arcturus’ own as she rushed over to meet him.

“Are you all right? What’s happening?” she yelled over the crowd’s panic. From the corner of his view, Arcturus could make out a man encasing himself underneath the shield of his Forcefield Gift, a ferocious raider charging straight at him.

But then his Forcefield suddenly broke, vanishing in a flicker and leaving the man exposed.

Why would he lower his shield?

Arcturus turned his eyes away as the raider approached the man.

“I’m fine,” he said through heavy breaths. “I saw the fire and came to make sure you got out.” Her piercing gold eyes, usually shining with authority, were now filled with fear.

A large crash sounded in the chaos. Arcturus whipped his head behind him and saw one of the raiders marching toward the woodcarver’s cart, his sword ready in his hand.

“Saros,” Cassiopeia breathed, panic rising in her voice.

Arcturus gripped her hand tightly, and sprinted across the road, pulling her along. He felt the heat of nearby flames brush against his skin as dust clouded his vision. Villagers laid across the ground, fresh blood staining their clothes. Some of them cried out for help. Others simply lay there, still and lifeless.

Arcturus looked away. Nothing could distract him now. He needed to get to Saros.

With a violent kick, the cart fell to the side, revealing Saros and Fabian huddled together on the ground. The raider struck Saros away from the woodcarver, knocking him into the fallen cart. Blood bloomed and trailed down his face as he rubbed his head in pain.

Arcturus and Cassiopeia came from the side, only a few paces away from their friend. The raider saw them approaching, and fixed their attention on the two. They lunged for Arcturus, and violently slammed into him, knocking him to the ground.

Everything went black.

✦✦✦

Arcturus’s eyes slowly blinked open, his head throbbing. Everything was obscured around him in orbs of glowing light. A piercing buzz rang through his ears, muting the sounds of screaming, crying, and metal against metal.

He lay against the ground, unable to get up. His body felt heavy and broken, unresponsive to his movements.

He lifted his chin, and turned his head to the side, groaning painfully as he moved. Cassiopeia lay face down on the ground beside him, heavily breathing against the dirt. Her eyes were closed as blood stained her shirt.

“Cassiopeia,” he called, or at least, tried to. She stayed unconscious.

His eyes looked ahead, his vision still unclear. He recognized Fabian through the blur, cowering on the floor, desperately crawling backwards. Blood was coming out of his mouth, and bruises were beginning to form on his face. The raider stalked over him, his sword raised above his head, preparing for the final strike.

Arcturus watched helplessly as the sword swung downwards, a glint of silver from its handle catching his eye in the light of the fire around them. Just as it was about to reach its target, another figure stepped in. A young man. He grabbed the sword bare handed, cutting deep into his palms but still holding on. The sword became slick with blood as the man wrestled the raider to the ground. However, before he could get a hold, the blade was ripped from his hands, slicing down his forearms. A cry rang out as the man was kicked forcefully in the stomach, crippled and overpowered.

The raider rose again, approaching his challenger, their sword dragging behind them. The young man lay on the ground, cradling his wounded hands and arms. The blood was bright through the haze, burning into Arcturus’ mind. The young man glared up at the raider, words too quiet to hear forming on his mouth. The raider raised the sword over their head, malice shining through their eyes as they snarled something. Arcturus’ vision slowly became more clear, and horror struck through him.

He recognized the young man. Despite his vision, his conscious knew who it was the minute he grabbed hold of the raider’s sword. There was only one person who would be bold enough to do that.

He had to do something. Anything. He rolled to his side, but that was all his body allowed him to do. He tried reaching for his Gift, but it seemed to have fled in hiding, leaving him powerless.

Tears streamed down Arcturus’s face as the sword flashed before his eyes, piercing its victim through the chest with a violent thrust. Blood instantly bloomed, rapidly spreading as the blade dug deep.

“SAROS! NO!” Arcturus screamed, his hand reaching for his friend, using every bit of his strength. He called to him with all his might, praying for an answer. Searching for any sign of life to hold on to.

But it was no use. The truth struck him like a knife.

Saros was dead.