55. Jack
FIFTY-FIVE
JACK
It just didn’t seem right; none of it seemed right.
Through a haze of pain and sorrow, Jack looked out through the locomotive’s window at the city’s cheering population.
Bands played uplifting tunes from the time they’d reached the outer walls of the city of New Hope.
The music hit Jack and washed over him, doing nothing to affect his mood.
His eyes were grim, as were those of his companions. Jack witnessed Sloan smile and wave from her seat, trying to appear grateful. He couldn’t hold it against her. She was the captain of the Queen’s personal guard. It was her duty to act the conquering hero, returned from a great adventure.
A swarm of soldiers on either side of the locomotive jogged at a steady pace, accompanying them to their destination. Jack, Sloan, Aareth, Abigail, and Elizabeth all sat in the passenger car directly behind the lead steam engine.
If his father’s lifeless body wasn’t lying in a box in the last car of the locomotive, Jack would have had a different attitude. Anything but a deep, hollow feeling was difficult for him to conjure. He hated the emptiness he felt, but he was powerless to do anything against it.
“A few more minutes and this will be over.” Sloan stood next to Jack. She stared out his window. “Once the Queen greets us at the palace, I’ll make sure Marcus receives the hero’s burial he deserves.”
“Thank you.” Jack failed at a smile. “I know you will.”
Jack was saved from having to voice any more thoughts as a shrill blast cut through the noise of the cheering crowd. Under a fog of smoke, the locomotive slowly came to a halt.
Sloan was the first to open the door. She exited, followed by Aareth.
The once-city-inspector-turned-assassin, and now something in between, looked at Jack with solemnness in his eyes.
“Give me the word, and I’ll walk the other way with you.
I know you’re hurting right now. Being greeted with a bunch of smiles and laughter is the last thing you want.
We’ll blend into the crowd, maybe go grab a drink … or twenty.”
“Tempting.” Jack shook his head. “But my father would want me to see this all the way through.”
“I understand.” Aareth massaged the miraculously healed arm that had, days ago, been mangled by the Burrow Den Beast. Without another word, the large man followed Sloan outside.
Elizabeth and Abigail came next, the first giving Jack a warm smile before leaving the car, the latter extending a hand. “Together?”
Jack took a deep breath then reached for her palm. Her warm embrace gave him strength. “Together,” he agreed.
The smell of the acrid smoke still fuming from the many pipes on the locomotive made Jack wrinkle his nose.
The roar of the crowd was even louder outside the car.
The band launched themselves into yet another volley of instrumentals.
Confetti fell like rain on their heads and shoulders.
The group walked up a long street bordered by yet more soldiers.
The men-at-arms in the Queen’s army wore black uniforms outlined by grey thread. Each soldier carried a shiny brown rifle and stood at perfect attention. The trip to the palace steps seemed to take an eternity. Jack reminded himself over and over again who he was doing this for.
Finally, the band music died. A hush came over those in attendance.
Sloan entered the tall archway that provided an entrance into the gated citadel.
She paused and knelt at the first step leading to the large palace doors.
The Queen stood, ready to greet them at the top of the stairway, dressed in a long, light blue gown.
Aareth, Jack, and the Ahab sisters followed Sloan’s example. One by one, they fell to a knee, lowering their heads in respect.
“Rise, champions of New Hope,” Queen Eleanor said in a strong voice, “and approach.”
Murmurs ran up and down the lines of gathered citizens as they craned their necks. Everyone was standing on their tiptoes to witness what would come next.
Jack fell into a line with Sloan and Aareth, while Abigail and Elizabeth took up spots at the base of the steps.
On any other occasion, Jack’s nerves would be making his heart drum, his hands clammy.
Now, all he could think of as he stood in front of the Queen of New Hope was the plain wooden coffin still inside the locomotive.
The coffin that held his father’s body that would need to be buried.
“The city of New Hope, along with the village of Burrow Den, owe you all a debt of gratitude,” the Queen said, loudly enough for everyone to hear. She motioned to someone beside her, who approached with long strides.
Jack recognized the reedy face of Fenrick Trillion, New Hope’s treasurer.
The man had a plastic smile plastered across his face as he came to stand next to the Queen.
He held a purple pillow out in front of him.
Four medallions stamped with New Hope’s sigil of two steel swords crossed behind a black bat hung on red fabric.
“On behalf of the city of New Hope, I bestow on you the highest honor we possess, the medal of courage. For your willingness to put yourself in harm’s way for the betterment of those who could not protect themselves.” The Queen placed the first medal around Sloan’s neck.
“For rising above yourself and becoming the person you were needed to be, to save those in danger.” She placed the second medal over Aareth’s long, dark hair.
“And for those who lost their lives in service to others, they will never be forgotten, but instead will live on throughout time as heroes, always and forever remembered.”
The Queen turned and lifted the third medal off the pillow Fenrick held. Jack’s eyes were watering as emotions waged an unwinnable war inside of him. His father should have been there standing next to him, but he wasn’t, and he would never be again.
Queen Eleanor Eckert gave Jack a look that said she knew, on a personal level, everything he was going through. She motioned with her head for Jack to lower his own. A bright light reflected off of the medal passing across Jack’s eyes, momentarily blinding him.
Shocked, the young magician looked up and behind his left shoulder to see what had caused his temporary blindness. A figure almost too small to see stood on a rooftop no more than a block away. The person was garbed in black. He held a rifle to his shoulder.
Without thinking, Jack launched himself at the Queen.
CRACK!
Jack took the Queen off her feet as gently as he could manage, while screams ripped through the air. Guards were running all around, shouting orders. The Queen felt so small in his arms. He rolled from on top of her. Gaining his feet, Jack looked the Queen up and down for injury.
As far as he could see, she wasn’t hurt. Confused, maybe stunned, but the hitman had missed his mark. Jack searched through the mass of churning soldiers to the rooftop where the would-be assassin had taken his shot. He was just in time to see the dark figure turn and disappear.
Sloan was there, yelling orders, hovering over the Queen with her mage sword ready. Jack fought to his feet, scanning the crowd for Abigail and Elizabeth, who were still by the steps. Abigail held an unfazed Elizabeth.
“Do celebrations always take such a violent turn in New Hope?” Elizabeth asked her sister.
Aareth was already down the stairs and charging through the stampeding crowd of onlookers. There was no doubt Aareth had seen what Jack had, only moments before; he was tearing toward the building where the assassin had been seconds ago.
Jack raced down the steps, pushing past alarmed guards as he did.
Adrenaline raced through his veins with every stride he took.
Questions came to his mind just as fast as he could push them to the side and concentrate on not losing Aareth in the crowd.
Who was the assassin? They were trying to kill the Queen and not him, weren’t they?
Did it have any connection with the previous assassination attempt the Queen had informed them of while they were in Burrow Den?
Within seconds, Jack had maneuvered his way through the terrified crowd and reached Aareth’s side. The sling Aareth wore around his right arm inhibited his speed.
“You decided to join the party.” Aareth tore the sling from his shoulder with his good arm. “Stay close.”
Jack swallowed hard as he saw the perfect shape of Aareth’s right arm; he could see the impressive muscle definition, even under the shirt Aareth wore. Memories of the wolf attack, the horrific wound, and the miraculous recovery tried to rip Jack from the moment.
“I saw the shooter duck behind this building here.” Aareth pointed to a tall structure. “He’ll come out of a back door or side alley.”
“You sound so sure.” Jack gulped in large breaths of air as they rounded a corner. “How could you know that?”
“Because”—Aareth headed into the alley—“that’s what I would have done.”