Acclayne Book 1: The Game Begins

Juney and Kaylaer had barely looked at each other since the incident in the square, much less spoken to each other. It was like sharing a bedroom with two moody teenagers; but it was still better than camping. I had managed to commandeer the bathroom for an uninterrupted forty-five minutes before being warned that I had five minutes to vacate the room or Juney was going to come in and gas me out. Gross. I didn't even allow boyfriends to use the toilet when I was in the bath; it was a line of privacy that I was strictly unwilling to cross. I hurriedly dried myself off, dressed and cleared the area.

Kaylaer was sulking in virtually the same spot that I'd left her in and my attempts at light conversation seemed to fall on deaf ears:

“So... this is pretty nice eh?” Nothing.

“Sure beats sleeping in a tent,” Nada.

“apparently we've got a busy day tomorrow...” Zilch.

“should probably get an early night...” Zero. I pottered around the room; unsure of where to put myself.

“...screw it. If she asks; I'm at the bar. See ya kiddo.” Zip.

The bar downstairs was virtually empty- I figured it must be a week-night; assuming that weeks here were laid out in the way that I was familiar with. It occurred to me then how lost in time I actually was- last time I had checked it was the weekend, and I was pretty sure at least one more had passed me by since then. I resolved to ask someone later on, maybe Juney if she was still awake. And not pissed off with me for leaving the room un-chaperoned... she was going to be pissed wasn't she? Damn it. Ah well, I pulled up a bar stool and looked over the drinks on offer. There was nothing there that I recognised so I asked the barmaid for something strong but fruity. She looked a little confused by my request but diligently complied. In comparison to the other people I'd met she was a short, plump, little thing with a cute upturned nose. She didn't really look old enough to be serving behind the bar but who could tell in this place? For all I knew the legal drinking age could be ten. If there was one at all. Her chubby dimpled hand delicately placed a tall glass in front of me. It was filled with what looked like luminous pink custard.

“That's seven Dravli and twenty-three Oct please Ma'am.”

Dravli? Oct? Ma'am? “Erm...”

“Or would you like me to charge it to your room?” She smiled sweetly at me. She had a dimple in her right cheek.

“Ah yes,” I said, relieved. No one had taught me about currency yet, “that would probably be best. It's room twenty-five; under Cholden.” Well, she was going to be mad at me anyway.

***

Methyn was having trouble sleeping. He had spent most of the afternoon in a state of unconsciousness and, despite his painful head, he couldn't seem to drift off. He had been put in a twin room with Malcolm, it was not that he minded the boy; in fact he was quite fond of him, but he did rather like his own space. Especially whilst on holiday – which he was quite aware that he was not, but it helped get him through what was turning out to be quite an ordeal. He rolled onto his side to face the young lad; he was sound asleep and was making a small snoring noise in the back of his throat. Methyn sighed softly so as not to disturb him. He was bored, he had no book to read and no tea to drink. These were hard times indeed. He would later come to think of these days as the calm before the storm, but not yet; right now he was finding them irksome at best. Sitting up he decided that he would go and explore before he attempted to sleep again. He had never stayed in Valaylii before and so was quite surprised to find that there were hotels such as this one. Juney was footing the bill for their stay; which was just as well as there was no way that Methyn could have afforded a place like this – not on his salary. The bedrooms were large and luxurious, all with immaculate en-suites. Not even his room at the academy could boast it's own bathroom; a fact that was of persistent annoyance. One of the other professors that he shared a bathroom with had once managed to clog up the shower drain so badly that for several weeks they were forced to share with the senior students. This meant that to avoid any embarrassing moments they often had to take their showers in the dead of night. The professor in question had suffered with bodily hair issues since being inadvertently turned into a human-spaniel hybrid two months previously. On the plus side he was now hyper-sensitive to any misbehaviour in the classroom, but, so the students had discovered quite quickly; was easily distracted by squeaky rubber objects.

Methyn ran his fingers gently over the corridor walls as he meandered around. The wallpaper was flocked and felt velvety soft beneath his fingertips. As he neared the bottom of the main staircase he could hear a familiar voice.

“Sho then I shaid to 'er 'whaddaya mean he already left?'!” It was a little slurred and a little to loud for normal conversation but he was sure that it was Alaina. Walking through the dimly lit and deserted reception area he made his way through to the bar.

“METHYN! Ish Methyn!” She chirruped when she saw him. “Pull up a pew.” She said; violently smacking the bar stool beside her. He hadn't spoken to Alaina very much since they'd met and so was a little anxious about joining her. Heck, if it had been someone he'd known for years he'd have still been anxious – he was just that sort of a person. Socially awkward some people may call it, Methyn preferred to think of it as practised aloofness. After a brief moment of internal deliberation he joined her at the bar; he was rewarded with a beaming smile. He noticed, as he felt the heat rising in his cheeks, that the barmaid was hovering around awkwardly; waiting for his order.

“Um – I. Ah, do you serve Tea?” The barmaid's response was cut off by peals of high-pitched laughter from beside him.

“Ah, come on Methyn! Live a little won't you? 'Ave one of these...” She shook her half empty glass at him. Most unusual behaviour for someone of her breeding, he thought. Her mother had been renown for her health consciousness, her decorum, intelligence, not to mention her strength, and here was her daughter; drunk out of her mind in a hotel bar late at night. Hardly heroic behaviour. But who was he to judge.

“What is that?” Her drink looked repulsive sloshing around in the glass; it clung suspiciously to the sides.

“This, m'dear, is del-delish-deh... ish yummy.” She took a sip. “'Nother two please.” The barmaid nodded and scuttled off to find whatever nuclear substance that appeared to be in Alaina's glass.

“Where's everyone else?” He glanced around the bar; expecting to see Juney lurking about. He was still embarrassed about the afternoon's events and resolved to both apologise and thank her for saving him. Though he wasn't sure if his headache wasn't her fault in the first place. Now there was someone who lived up to his expectations; Juney's reputation preceded her and in his opinion she fully lived up to it- she was as scary as hell...

“Prolly still sulking about the place like moody teenagers.” ...Or not. Methyn noted the face Alaina pulled into her glass with amusement.

“Ah.”

“So, I take it you couldn't sleep?”

“No.”

“You were completely OUTERS for a while there.” She laughed.

“Yes. I had noticed.” He rubbed his head. It still ached a little.

“You don' talk mush do you?”

“Not as much as some.” He smiled at her.

“I'll have you know that I-” She sat up and almost fell of her stool sideways, “-I am an extremely proficient talking... person.”

“Is that so?”

“Yesh. Which is just as well, don't you think?”

“Why's that?” He gratefully accepted his glass of pink questionableness from the barmaid and took a sip. Not bad. Tasted like raspberry yoghurt – with a rather unsubtle kick that caught in the back of his throat.

“'Cause, we've gone and gotten ourselves into a shticky situ-sit-mess.”

“You could say that, though I don't think that we had much say in it really.” As the drink went down his throat it left in it's wake a numb yet surprisingly heated sensation that wasn't entirely unpleasant.

“EXSHACTLY!” She pointed forcefully at him and he allowed himself a chuckle. “And my point is... what was my point?”

Methyn giggle-snorted as he drank his drink. “I don't know...”

“Did you just giggle?”

“Maybe.” He did it again. Alaina laughed but Methyn didn't feel embarrassed in the slightest. It was a welcome change. Something about her exuded warmth, or maybe that was the alcohol.

“I goddit. My point was that I can't kick ass. I am about as kick-ass as a hamster with a broken leg. So I'm gonna have to rely on-”

“-Your 'talking proficiency'-”

“Exactly. You know what Meth. Can I call you Meth?”

“No.”

“You know what? You totally get me man. You know that?” Methyn sipped at the last of his drink and felt the warmth hitting his belly. She was scared as hell – just like he was. Yes; he totally got that.

***

I awoke the next day with a thud. Although it was my lower body that had collided with the floor when I fell out of bed it felt as if it was my head that had taken a hammering.

“Ow...” I struggled with gravity for the control of my eyelids. When I managed to open them Kaylaer's face slowly came into focus – she was bent down over me.

“You are in so much trouble.” I did not appreciate the smug look on her face; I tried to muster a glare and failed. It hurt too much.

“Glad to see you're in a better mood.” I grabbed my head; talking hurt more than not talking.

“Whatever,” she stood up and shrugged, “you should've seen yourself last night; what. A. Mess.” I struggled to remember something, anything, from the previous evening. Not much was coming to mind. The barmaid had been lovely, but very young. Not much gossip there. I had tried, in vain, to engage her in boyfriend talk but she wasn't having any of it. Pity, I hadn't had a good gossip in what felt like a very long time. I remembered that Methyn had joined me... but I was pretty drunk by then. We'd had a talk, I wasn't too sure what about, but I felt like I knew him a little better. “...So was Professor M. though. Great example you two are setting by the way.” I groaned. Of course, he'd had a couple of drinks too... what a lightweight. Shit! He was probably still half-concussed. I'm such a tool sometimes.

“Was it really that bad?” I hope I hadn't tried anything, ah, inappropriate. As Lisa always loved to remind me; drink turned me into a bit of a slut. My mood fell through the floor thinking about Lisa. Morning's like this would be spent together; reminiscing, poking fun and wallowing in our self-inflicted pain. I missed my best friend.

“It was.”

“Oh no.” I crawled up onto the bed and buried my head in the mountain of pillows.

“You both thought that it would be a good idea to run around knocking people's doors and then run away in the middle of the night; giggling like children the whole time...” I groaned. “...but you were too slow, at least Methyn was...” Oh no. “... the last door you knocked on; Methyn didn't get away fast enough and some massive, pissed off, sleep deprived guy answered the door, chased him down the hall and knocked him out. Again.” Ah shit. “Juney had to go down to reception to collect him and take him back up to his room. Malcolm had slept through the whole thing; didn't even know he was gone. Then when they eventually found you...” Urgh. “...you were sat on the floor in front of the broom closet on the third floor in hysterics because you had managed to give yourself the hiccups. By the time Juney got you back here you were completely incoherent. Even more so than normal if you can believe that.” I sensed her rolling her eyes at me. I mumbled into the pillow. “What was that? I couldn't hear you over the massive hangover.”

“Where is Juney?”

“Now, that I don't know, and you're probably better off. She was mightily pissed at you last night.”

“Figures.”

“Not like you don't deserve it.”

“Excuse me?”

“Come on, you're what? Thirty-?”

“Hey-”

“-and you're acting like a child. You're new here, I get it, but you don't seem to be taking this seriously. We've been given a massive job to do and you're pissing about doing impromptu sight seeing and drinking yourself into a stupor, yet for some reason everyone seems to have faith in you. Faith that you'll step up and replace your mother. I seem to be t he only one who sees you for what you are; you're spoilt and weak and you will never fill your mother's shoes; this kind of thing just proves me right...” I was being lectured to by a teenager that had run off the day before; tried to illegally purchase a weapon and then sulked when she got caught; I had officially reached a new low. “...Thank the Mother Acclayne that we have Juney on our side because if we have to rely on you then we're going to have our asses handed to us.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” I muttered into my pillow. I didn't care if she heard me or not; we both knew she was right.

I passed in and out of sleep for a while. Kaylaer came and went- for breakfast I assumed. Needless to say I wasn't hungry. Despite her, quite accurate, views on me she brought me a glass of juice; which I was eternally grateful for – despite the burning sensation it caused down my throat. I could only assume that I'd thrown up somewhere last night. Thankfully by the time Juney showed up my headache had started to dissipate.

“What the hell were you playing at?!”

“Good morning.”

“Hardly. I had no idea where you were. How am I supposed to protect you!”

“Well from what I've been told you seem to be doing a fine job regardless – thanks for that by the way – but I am a grown woman,” Juney growled in response. “I can mind myself you know.”

“You can can you?” Right now I'm not seeing much evidence of that.” She stormed around the room and started throwing things back into our bags. I could kind of understand Kaylaer's reaction now; being on the receiving end of Juney's anger was not fun. She was like a woman possessed... “You are so lucky I had a job this morning; at least now I don't feel like ripping your head off.” … a small-yet-deadly woman possessed. I put a hand protectively to my throat and hoped that she was joking. She grumbled quietly to herself for a while; I caught a few key words, things like “irresponsible”, “childish” and “disrespectful” and figured that I wasn't going to live this one down.

“Right.” She snapped, “Get your hungover ass out of bed, everyone's downstairs waiting for us.”

“Everyone?”

“Yes everyone, even your sorry excuse for a drinking buddy. He's not quite as coherent as you are but he is up.”

“Ah we'll insert tea through an intravenous drip and I'm sure he'll be fine in no time.” I quipped and thought I saw a flicker of a smile cross her face. Maybe all hope was not lost! Hooray!

“Yes well, get up. We'll finish this later.” She smiled. I didn't like the sound of that and I told her so.

***

When Alaina eventually gathered enough strength to join the rest of the group downstairs Giflyn; the burly man whom she'd met yesterday, had already arrived.

“Ah, good morning Miss Oakley, might I say that you look ravishing today?” He moved forward with the intention of kissing her hand; he had been quite taken with her since he had first seen her. Her luscious red hair and willowy figure had put him in mind of his wife – as she was when they had first met; before the raising of so many children had taken it's toll. Alaina was non-responsive to his attempt and so he fell back, a look of disappointment on his face. Juney rolled her eyes;

“She does not, she looks like shit. Not that she doesn't deserve it.” She shot a dark-eyed glare at Alaina who either pointedly ignored it or was just too spaced-out to notice; no one was quite sure. “Okay, well that's everyone. Time to get moving.”

“Oh God, do we have to?”

“Yes, we can't hang about or we'll get behind schedule.”

Alaina grumbled and shared a look with Methyn who was, as yet, unable to speak. He didn't need to; the look said it all. He was suffering big time.

“About that,” Giflyn piped up, “I was just saying to Methyn here-” he smacked him firmly on the back and almost sent him flying forward, “I'm not going to be joining you today.”

“We had a deal.”

“I am aware of that,” the loaded looks that passed between him and Juney went unnoticed, “and so I have organised for someone else to accompany you in my place.”

“I take it that they will be granted access?”

“I have sent word ahead, it shouldn't be a problem.”

“In that case we shan't keep you any longer.” Juney waved him away with her small, leather-clad hand; she had no further need of him and as such he was in her way.

“He'll meet you there, I take it you know the way?”

“Yes, yes. Thank you Giflyn.”

“About our deal...”

“When I have what I want, you shall get what you want. Goodbye.” With that he was abruptly dismissed. un-phased by Juney's brash manner Giflyn bowed politely and duly excused himself.

“Geez, no need to be so rude.” Alaina scolded.

“No need to make us late by drinking yourself into a stupor, but that's how it is.”

Malcolm and Kaylaer remained quiet during the walk across town. Both children were brimming over with questions as to their destination but felt that it would be wise; given the current circumstances, to keep quiet. Juney walked swiftly and with purpose through the town. Alaina and Methyn; the walking wounded, struggled to keep up.

Soon the number of buildings began to dwindle and the town seemed to thin out around them; giving way to grassy hills and trees. The morning sun was already well-established in the cloudless sky and the day seemed to be warming up pleasantly. Alaina relished the feel of the warm sun beating down on her skin, though she was beginning to wish that she had access to sun cream - her pale skin was liable to turn lobster red at any moment whilst exposed to the sun. Methyn barely seemed to notice his surroundings, let alone appreciate the fine weather.

The group found themselves following Juney through a narrow tunnel built into a hillside. It was wide enough only for one person at a time but was only short which Malcolm was extremely grateful for – being particularly anxious when in a dark and enclosed space. As they passed through the tunnel he focused on the bright sunlight at the other end, and the cool breeze that blew across his face. He was not closed in. He was not closed in. Not. Closed. In.

As he stepped blinkingly back into the daylight he was delighted to see a large garden ahead of them. It covered in soft looking tall-grasses and wild flowers. The smell was heavenly. It was as if they were miles outside of Vallaylii; not only a five minute walk away. In the centre of the garden sat a large brick building. It was undoubtedly old yet seemed well maintained.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Juney said turning to a rather perplexed looking group, “I give you Oakley House.”