The Ruens of Fairstone (Aeon of Light Book 2) (18 page)

“He’s a slow learner,” Pard says, trying to deflect.

Selby chuckles again.

“No, really, he doesn’t know Rue. We study advanced mathematics together, and he came along in case you didn’t show up. Then we would study for our term tomorrow.”

Selby suspiciously eyes Miles’s closed mathematics book. “
Right
.”

Miles flips open the book to a random page. “Takes me a while to get focused.”

“
Uh-huh
.”

Miles glances at a page for a split second, but as if by force, he angles his head back toward the girls. He gives them another wink.

The girls giggle.

Selby shakes her head in awe.

Pard rolls his eyes. “Anyway, Miles?”

Miles slowly turns back to Pard and Selby while still giving off a seductive aura.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Pard says.

“I’m in the zone, professor, and you’re distracting me.”

“Well, get out of the zone, you’re freaking me out.” Pard pulls out his Ruen book from his pack.

Miles rolls his eyes, and then he winks back at the girls.

“You’re funny,” Selby says, staring at Miles.

“No he’s not,” Pard says, getting jealous.

“Yes he is.”

Miles nods, taking Selby’s compliment.

“I’m funny too,” Pard says, trying to lure Selby back to him and away from Miles.

“
You
?” Selby scans Pard’s face. “Yes, I guess sometimes. But not like your friend.”

Pard’s heart sinks.
Shoot, she likes him more than me
. He lowers his head in defeat.

“So what did you bring today?”

Pard, trying to control his disappointment, refocuses on Ruen. “It’s a Ruen text my mother gave me. I thought you may like to check it out. Though it’s much harder to read than Rue. First you have to know Rue. And then every third or fifth symbol in a sentence is En. Which the symbols can mean one word or can be the representation or meaning of an entire story. So it’s tough to follow. This particular book is like an encyclopedia of magical creatures.”

“Wow, really?”

“Yup.”

“That’s so neat, can I see?”

“Sure.”

Selby opens the worn cover, and her eyes fill with joy. She leafs through the pages scanning the words and illustrations. “I’ve been hoping to learn some En too, that would help me out immensely.” Selby points to a slug-like creature at the top of the page. “So what does this say?”

Pard leans in close to her and almost loses himself as the clean smell of Selby’s clothes and hair fill his senses. “You try—read it to me.”

Selby hovers over the book and traces the text with her finger. “The ssssl—”

“Slagenitch.”

“Slagenitch is found in the forests of Rann—”

“Ranin.”

“Ranin, and if, if, touched by the white residue it secretes from its belly, you will itch horrible, and then your skin will—
umm
—”

“Pus.”

“Pus and shrivel. Yuck, gross.” Selby laughs, and Pard joins in. Selby smiles and gazes into Pard’s brown eyes, and he feels as if he’s floating on a cloud.

Then Pard loses himself, and his mouth automatically says what his brain has said a thousand times in the last year. “Will you go to the Fairstone dance with me?”

Selby slightly shakes her head, snapping out of her slagenitch trance. She lets out a faint laugh. “Did you just ask me to a dance?”

“
Umm
—did I?”

“Yup, he did,” Miles says, chiming in.

Selby gives Pard a kind smile. “I’d love to go with you.”

Pard’s head snaps back in surprise and his eyes open wider. “You would?”

“Of course.”

“Great,
umm
, that’s, so—”

Selby points to the next page in the Ruen book. “So help me with the next one.”

“Sure.”

Pard sings inside and is a new man. Something inside of him changes, and he knows going forward he will never be the same. Pard spends the next hour deciphering and joking and laughing with Selby. In the meantime, Miles buries his head in the crook of his arm and sleeps.

Ding
—

The library bell rings, and Ms. Cookle hobbles by their table while pushing the book cart. “One hour until the library closes, kids.”

Miles jerks up and sucks in some drool and mouths it. “Time to go?”

“I think it is,” Selby says. “It’s getting late, and I’m having so much fun I lost track of time.”

“Me too,” Pard says. “We do have terms starting in the morning.”

Miles stands and slings his pack. “Hiney’s phallus, great, so anyway.”

Pard follows Miles and gets to his feet, and so does Selby.
 

“So when’s the dance?” Selby says.

“It’s on the first Saturday in December, in about three weeks.”

“I look forward to spending the night with you at Fairstone, how exciting. But we can still meet before then and study more Rue, right?”

“Sure we can,” Pard says, and his face beams.

“I can’t tomorrow, though,” Selby says, “but how about Tuesday?”

Then Pard remembers his trial, and his excitement fades. He lowers his head. “I can’t this Tuesday. But maybe Wednesday—I don’t know.”

“All right, Wednesday works for me,” Selby says.

Pard’s shoulders slump. “But I don’t know if I can Wednesday either, I’m not sure yet.”

Miles steps in to save Pard. “He will meet you on Wednesday. He just can’t on Tuesday.”

Selby chuckles and stares at Miles, wondering why she’s addressing Miles when Pard is standing right next to her. “
Okay then
, Wednesday it is, it’s a date.”

Miles pats Pard on the back, and Pard steps forward from the jolt and almost bumps into Selby. “Wednesday night at six is perfect for Pard. He’ll be right here, his slagenitch lovely self will be ready to enlighten you on more pus-loving Ruen creatures.”

“Good to hear—pus and all, I love it,” Selby says with a faint giggle, then she smiles at Pard. “See you Wednesday.”

Pard forces a smile back. “See you then too.”

“Have a safe, warm walk back to Fairstone.” Selby steps away. A few seconds later, she peeks back toward Pard, gently flicks her hair, and waves.

Pard can’t help smiling, forced or not, his lips automatically react to the magic Selby exudes. Selby disappears as she turns into an aisle of books, and Pard’s smile fades. He collapses into the chair and his head falls into his hands, covering his face. “She said yes.”

Miles grips Pard’s shoulders from behind and massages. “Yup, she sure did, told you.”

Pard looks up and stares out the window as his body rocks back and forth from Miles’s hard massaging. “My trial is on Tuesday.”

“That it is, my friend. And you have another study date with Selby the day after. And she said yes.”

Pard lowers his gaze and shakes his head. “I’m done for. I can’t believe my luck. I finally get the girl of my dreams and I’ll be kicked out and homeless in a few days. Just my stupid luck.”

Miles hooks his arms under Pard’s armpits and hoists him to his feet. Miles spins Pard around to face him. “Don’t fret, professor. You aren’t kicked out yet. And she said yes.”

Pard gazes back at Miles, and he grins. “She did say yes.”

“Yup, she sure did. I told you I know the secret. You should just trust me.”

Out of nowhere, Pard feels an urge deep inside as his body relaxes. “I have to go to the bathroom. I’ll meet you out front.”

“All right, I’ll meet you by the fireplace in a minute.”

Pard strolls with head held high. Even if he gets kicked out of Fairstone, he overcame his fears and asked Selby to the dance, and she said yes.
This is the best and worst week ever, weird
. Pard enters the bathroom in the back corner of the library, goes, and struts with newfound purpose back through the main portion of the library and toward the front door. Pard’s legs move with ease, twenty pounds lighter from his burdens, and his body glides with bliss through the aisles of books. At an intersection between two aisles, he glances to the right, and a few feet away, a man in a black duster coat, slightly hunched over, faces him.
Penter
.
 

Penter’s black eyes, menacing, scan Pard. His small white splotch of hair noticeably pokes away from the rest of his thick, wavy black hair which extends down to the middle of his neck.

A chill runs up Pard’s spine and Selby’s image and smile quickly disappear, replaced with the glower of Penter and his piercing black eyes. Pard’s twenty pounds of burden firmly back, plus a few more for measure, his legs get heavy, but the adrenaline kicks in and he pivots away from the menace. Pard picks up his pace.

Miles, leaning against the window next to the front door, bounces off the glass and unfolds his arms. “Ready?”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

“Anything wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” Pard slips through the library door and back into the wintery night.

CROSSBONES

“Eat it!” Miles says, thrusting his mathematics term paper through the crack in Pard’s door as it opens. “That says C plus, professor.”

Pard looks over Miles’s grades. He sighs. “Sorry, I thought you’d do better.”

“Sorry?
Sorry
? Professor, this is the best I’ve ever done on a mathematics term. No need to be sorry, it’s time to celebrate.” Miles swings off his backpack and pulls out a glass bottle filled with dark-purple liquid.

“
Umm
, what’s that?” Pard says.

“It’s celebration time, that’s what this is.” Miles twists out the cork and takes a vocal chug then let’s out an equally vocal belch. Miles extends the bottle toward Pard who is looking at it as if it’s poison. “Drink up, it’ll put hair on your chest and make you a man.”

“But you don’t have any hair on
your
chest.”

“Which is exactly why I’m drinking, now take it and drink up.”

Pard grips the chilly bottle. “What is this, I don’t recognize it?”

“Something special my brother left me for just such an occasion.”

“Why are there crossbones on the bottle?”

“It means its quality—take a swig and see for yourself.”

“But don’t we have to plan for our mission tonight? We really shouldn’t be drinking this stuff, it’s going to be dangerous.”

Miles waves Pard off. “Nonsense, we can’t go for a good three hours. Yitch will still be awake polishing his little nick-knacks with all the students up studying for terms. So we have plenty of time to plan and celebrate.” Miles stares at Pard expectantly.

“Okay, I guess one sip couldn’t hurt.”

“Right on!”

Pard holds his breath and throws back the bottle with the opening pressed against his lips. The purple syrupy liquid oozes into his mouth and bites his palate. Pard gulps once, he gulps twice, a sudden scorching pain grips Pard’s throat and his stomach gurgles as the molten liquid hits bottom. Pard chokes and removes the bottle, purple liquid seeping out of the corners of his lips. Pard cringes and coughs.

“
Nice
,” Miles says, “good, eh?”

“Yeah—” Pard coughs again. “Quality.”

“I told you.”

Pard’s skin tingles and the temperature in his chilly room seems to have risen twenty degrees within the last minute. A bead of sweat forms on Pard’s temple.

Miles nods. “Take another, professor, you deserve it.”

“I better not—”

“Go on, drink up.”

“I—”

“
Drink
—”

“All right, just one more, I guess.” Pard repeats the process, the gulp, the scorch, the gurgle, the cough, and the temperature rises again. Pard plops down hard on his bed while staring at the ceiling, and he imagines Selby’s face.

“
Good,”
Miles says with a devious grin. He throws his head back for another swig.

Two hours pass along with the rest of the purple liquid, the bottle empty, they prepare for ‘Peration ‘Aximus. They dropped the ‘O’ and ‘M’ an hour earlier as a joke when half of the bottle of crossbones was still left. But now they uncontrollably drop many of the first letters of all their words.

“‘O time,” Miles says with a slight sway. “‘Ot your lie ‘sick?”

Pard fumbles the light stick in his hand and gives Miles a goofy grin, then holds it up, clicks it on, and swings the light around the room in a circle along with his body. Pard circles and circles and circles until he tangles his feet, and he collapses onto his bed on his stomach with a bounce. Drool leaks out of his mouth as his tongue, like a dog, licks the wool of his blanket. Pard laughs uncontrollably bouncing his body up and down on his bed. His insides float and sing and laugh.

Miles focuses on a blurry Pard as he bounces up and down on the mattress. Miles shakes his head and snaps out of his crossbones induced state for a second, doing the best he can to focus. Miles talks slow, concentrating on his every word. “Get up, pro’, we need to get to Yitz and see mum’s locket.”

Pard stops laughing, flips over, and he wobbles on his back flat on the bed. Pard sniffs, his nose runny, then he burps.
 

Miles grips Pard by the ankles and yanks him off the bed.

“Whoa!” Pard says, then laughs as he flies for a split second until his tailbone smacks hard on the wooden floor. “‘Iles, what in hell? Ouch!”

“Get up, pro’. It’s Yitz time.”

“
Yitz
?”

“‘Peration ‘Aximus and the ‘Ue thing.”

“Right,” Pard says, nodding and then transitioning to shaking his head
no
.

“Yes, up, pro’, it’s a go.” Miles lifts Pard to his feet, and they stand face to face staring at each other.

“‘Ilses, stop ‘oving, making me ‘izy.”

“I’m not ‘oving, you’re ‘oving. You stop.”

 
“I feel sick.”

“No ‘ussing out, pro’, we a go, come on.” Miles violently shakes his head, attempting to dislodge the crossbones and fog from his own mind.
 

“What you doing?” Pard says, watching Miles’s head blur.

Miles clinches his teeth and smacks Pard’s shoulder. “Best not talk to no one.”

Pard licks his lips. “No talk.”

They slip out the door and stagger through the fourth floor hallway. At the stairs leading down from the fourth to the third floor, Pard grips the large golden knob with both hands and undulates and pulsates his body against the bannister.