Chapter 5 - A Special Task

Rayne exhaled through pursed lips, closed one eye, and pulled the trigger. A gunshot rang out, and her arm jolted with the force. She blinked and squinted at her target. She’d hit it this time but was way off the mark.

“Fayr,” she swore. She looked at the gun, double checked her stance, aimed, and fired again. Still off. “I don’t get it,” she huffed, and set the gun down.

“Your form is consistent,” Marcus commented. His words surprised her, and she spun around. He was leaning against the doorway, his scarred arms crossed. “Just don’t...”

“Overdo it,” she finished. “How long have you been back?”

“Not long,” he answered, and stepped over to her. He checked her weapon, reloaded it, and aimed. He fired three shots, all of them in a near perfect grouping at the center. Marcus unloaded the pistol and offered it back to her.

“Guns are a precise thing,” he said. “They require a precise mind. A calm one.”

“I am calm.” Rayne tried not to snap, but she was frustrated.

“You’re calm on the outside,” Marcus noted. “You were taught to be that way.” She instinctively corrected her posture, thinking of her mother. Her mom and her dad, whom she hadn’t seen in weeks. “I just don’t think you’re calm on the inside.”

“I just...” Rayne sighed and sat down at a small wooden bench at the wall. “I just thought things would be different.” Her voice was quiet, a little husky. She cleared her throat. “You know, I thought that I could join the guild, follow in my grandfather’s footsteps, but I don’t think I will. Don’t think I can. So far, the only thing I’ve done like my grandfather is leave my family behind.”

“You know, I thought things would be different too,” Marcus said. “I thought when I finally found an apprentice that they’d be lazy, and I’d have to push them to exercise and train and...”

“Hey...” Rayne couldn’t help but smirk, then she laughed a little.

“You have an admirable level of determination, Rayne,” Marcus continued. “You’re mature for your age, and you’re smart. Sometimes I see your competence and I forget you’re still just a kid, and I think you do, too.”

“But the guild isn’t a place for kids,” she said. “That’s why I have to get better, stronger.”

“You’re expecting to do in weeks, what took me years,” Marcus shrugged. “You’re rushing into things, Rayne, and that can be just as dangerous as being incompetent. More even.”

“Maybe you’re right...” Rayne’s words were quiet. “What... what did you do before the guild?” She remembered meeting Alex and M’natherine, remembered the days when she’d been reading her imported magazines of the East. She’d never read anything about Marcus. The first time she’d heard his name was atop a snow-covered mountain.

“Oh?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. “You want to know?”

“Yes.”

“I wasn’t anything,” he said. “I worked at a sandwich shop for a little while, right out of school. Worked at a garbage disposal company after that. Always wanted to be something, always wanted to be more. Next thing you know, I’m running through the mountains chased by a gang of werewolves.”

“What changed?” she asked.

“I met your grandfather,” he said. “He was a man of determination. Not unlike yourself.” He gave her a sideways look and almost cracked a smile. “So different, yet so very much alike.”

“What was he looking for?” Rayne asked. The question came to her out of nowhere and she had asked it before thinking.

“What do you mean?” Marcus asked.

“I mean...” Rayne sighed. “He was always gone. The few times he was around, he was telling me about his adventures.” She reached over to a small duffel bag where she kept her gun case, among other things. She put the pistol away and pulled out her grandfather’s journal, flipping through its pages once more. Ever since Rayne had joined the guild, she’d been busy. She hadn’t been obsessing over the journal as much. Was that really all she wanted? Was to be a part of the guild? Or was there something more?

She reached the last page in the journal. The familiar sketch of the Valley of Wyte.

“I do remember something...” Rayne spoke. “It’s a faded memory now. It was the last time I saw him. He said that he was looking for chaos.”

“He was a bit of a philosopher,” Marcus nodded, he reached out a scarred arm, his big hand resting on her shoulder. “Your grandfather was a great man, Rayne. A great Explorer, and a great mentor... but he was still just a man.” He gave her a reassuring pat, then he took a step back.

“Besides,” Marcus said. “We’ve got work to do.” Rayne perked up at that.

“We do?” She asked, then her eyes widened. “Wait, did the council...?”

“They gave us a special task.” Marcus answered with a grin. “Find, and capture David Echoe. He’s gone from being a troublemaker to Explorer enemy number one.”

“Holy fayr,” Rayne jumped up and grabbed her bag. “He must be trying to make a connection with the Oasis Spark.” She pressed her thumb to her lips and started pacing. “We spoke with Jim Bones while you were away,” she said not looking at him.

“And what did you find out?” Marcus asked, crossing his arms.

“There are others after the spark,” she answered. “A remnant knight, but he didn’t know from which island. Or claims he didn’t. He said something interesting though... Jim Bones said that the knight was searching for a princess...”

“Anyone we know of?” Marcus asked.

Rayne shook her head and shouldered her bag. She wasn’t going to be able to focus on shooting anymore. She turned back to say something to her mentor, when Alex burst through the door.

“I found something,” he said, out of breath. He held in his hand a printed piece of paper. He offered it to Rayne, and she took it.

“Well break me...” Rayne muttered, her eyes reading over the page. “An Alkanian exhibit is opening tonight in Old York.” She handed the piece of paper to Marcus. “High profile attendees, and Alkanian artifacts. If David’s looking for a connection to Alkania, I can only assume it would be there.”

“I agree,” Marcus nodded. “Good work, you two.”

“So, what’s the plan?” she asked.

“Looks like we’re going to a fancy party,” Marcus answered.

***

“You can’t wear that,” Vivien didn’t even have to sign it. Her general expression gave it away.

“What?” Rick was confused. “I think it looks nice?”

“Those are so not your colors,” Vivien sighed.

“What do you mean, not my colors?” Rick frowned. “I didn’t even know I had colors.”

“And the jacket is way too big.” Viv patted the sides of his arms. “Makes you look like a box.” she leaned in and sniffed. “This is dad’s. It smells like cigarettes.”

Rick raised up a sleeve, sniffed, and nodded in exasperation.

“I’m screwed, I’m so screwed. *Break me*.” He ran a hand through his hair and started pacing.

“Alright, alright.” Vivien, held up a finger, signaling a pause in the panic, then she went to his closet. She looked back. “When is the date?”

“Gotta leave here at 7.”

“Okay,” Viven put her hands to her hips. “We can do this. We can work with this. Come with me.”

“Sure, wait, where are we going?” Vivien grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him along.

“We are going to the thrift store.”

***

Rick stepped out of the taxi feeling glad he’d doubled up on deodorant. He was nervous. Not that he wasn’t usually nervous, but this was different.

He was wearing a gray suit, a gray tie, and a white button up shirt. They couldn’t find any dress shoes that fit him, so he washed his sneakers at home, and it kinda sorta worked. Vivien had made sure he looked as presentable as possible. The thrift store was a good call.

Leaning down, he reached in and offered his hand to Taylor. She was hesitant at first, but she took it. She was wearing a pair of pants that surprisingly didn’t have any stains on them, and a pale green sweater that hung off one shoulder. He wasn’t sure if that was actually a design choice, or Taylor just not caring. Her hair wasn’t in it’s usual ponytail, but loose and curly. She wore silver raindrop earrings, and around her neck was the golden locket he’d given her.

Rick fumbled around in his pocket for some salts, and paid the taxi driver, before offering his hand once more. She took it, this time with a little less hesitation, and they began walking towards the museum.

The Old York Museum of History was a large building, and the front of it was white marble, with pillars, huge and reaching. It was surrounded by well-trimmed grass, and hedges cut in intricate patterns. Flowers were beginning to bloom, and a wide fountain sat bubbling as they passed.

“It’s beautiful,” Taylor breathed, and she squeezed his hand just a little tighter. “I don’t get out much, I guess.”

“It is beautiful,” Rick said watching her as she looked around. Blue eyes alighting on the fountain, before following the trail of shrubs up to the pillared marble stairs.

Together they trailed across the grounds, following some of the other well-dressed guessed who were trickling in a few at a time. As Rick walked up the marble stairs he was intimidated by the height of the building, the size of the stone.

He swallowed, checked for like the eighteenth time that he still had the tickets, and they approached the doors. Despite his fears that somehow, he would lose the tickets, or they would outright disappear from his pockets, he had no issue whatsoever entering the museum. He felt rather proud of himself for having made it that far.

Rick wasn’t entirely sure what awaited him inside the museum. He’d been so focused on Taylor that the exhibit itself was a mere afterthought.

What did await him caused him to stop and stare, mouth agape. Golden chandeliers dangling crystals lit a massive foyer of cream colored walls, and glossy gold and marble floors. Waiters in white coats navigated the crowds offering small refreshments. On one wall was a long table covered with food, steaks piled high on platters, fruits by the basket, and vegetables steaming and roasted.

White curtains hung from the wall, muting acoustic echoes. More stone pillars were inside supporting a lofty mezzanine that looked down at the crowd below. Bright banners hung here and there, welcoming guests, and teasing an exhibit of grand scope and scale.

The guests inside were from all over the East. Most were from Old York, but right out of the gate, Rick noticed several knights in gleaming armor standing near robed officials from Volthyr. There were a couple men wearing tall top hats and petty coats with tight trousers and tall leather boots. Their mustaches were twirled to perfection, and their clothes had more belts and buckles than Rick could count. They must have been from the steam powered island of Seraphine.

Everyone was dressed in their finest attire, and Rick was suddenly very out of place. He swallowed again. What exactly had he gotten himself into?

“This is amazing…” Taylor said her tone not matching her words as she began to look around. “Where’s the exhibit?” She asked, her fingers reaching up and touching her locket.

“I bet it’s probably further back,” Rick said looking around. If that’s what she wanted to see then he was more than fine with that. He noticed a large pair of wooden doors that probably opened up into the exhibit hall, so maybe he could-

“And then…” came a familiar voice, “I was surrounded. Sky pirates all around. So, I tell my cousin, I tell her, ‘hand me the gatling gun.’ So she does, and then I’m like…”

Rick frowned as he watched David imitate shooting a machine gun and making the necessary sound effects along with it. He then imitated an explosion and struck a heroic pose. The small group of people around him applauded his story.

“You’ve got to be kidding me…” Rick breathed. He stopped suddenly, and Taylor paused, looking back at him. She didn’t say anything, her face that familiar stone. “Will you uh… excuse me just one moment?” He asked sucking in a deep breath. “Do you want to find out where the food’s at? I’ll be right back, I promise.”

“Sure,” she said. “No problem.”

“You know what…” Rick cursed as he very politely stormed his way through the crowd. “I think I might just kill him.”