The Hero's Gaze

“Oi!”

Alaric spun on his heels to see the guard who was stationed at the door glaring at him from a few feet away. The guard lowered his pike at Alaric, He rose slowly with the platter of food in front, the other hand was clenched in a fist behind his back.

“What are you doing here?” the guard's face was a shade of beetroot, the bulging vein in his neck would make a vampire blush.

“I was sent out here to see if you guys needed anything,” Alaric spluttered.

“Did you see anything incriminating?” The guard looked him up and down.

Alaric shook his head vigorously. The guard waved his pike and motioned for Alaric to move. He slowly shuffled around the building facing the guard, trailed by the guard. Soon he was back on the gravel path. He turned and headed back to the party.

“Halt!”

Alaric froze mid-step.

“Get back here.”

Alaric turned on his heels and walked back to the guard until he was inches from the tip of the pike. Alaric pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth and set his jaw tight. The clenched fist behind his back trembled with anticipation. The guard took two paces back and banged on the door with the end of his pike. Two more guards strode out.

Alaric formulated a plan of attack. Throw the platter at the face of the guard on the left, sidestep to the right, and use the guard on the right as a shield against the center guard. Then storm the building. He wasn’t sure if it was worth the risk, but time was running out. He took a deep breath.

“Thank the gods. I’m starving,” the new guard bellowed, snatching a handful of food while Alaric was plotting. “That old boiler barely gives us scraps when on duty.”

The other two guards grumbled in agreement. In a matter of seconds, the platter was barren, and the two guards disappeared back into the building.

“Now, get outta here.”

Alaric blinked and looked at the platter. Finally, he nodded and headed back up the path. As he passed the bend he noticed the leaves of a bush rattling. He stopped in front and tried to see past the foliage. A hand reached out, snatched his shirt and pulled him into the bushes.

“Elara!”

“Shhh,” she whispered. “Keep it down.”

“Where the asshole have you been?” Alaric ranted in a hushed tone. “I’ve been cutting onions all day while you’ve been doing whatever. When they realised that you weren’t coming back, they made me wait tables. You won’t believe what a bunch of jerks they people are. And you won’t believe what I just saw…what are you doing?”

“Getting dressed. What does it look like?” she hissed. Alaric’s eyes widened at the site of Elara a tight-fitting silk dress. He didn’t remember her having such a fine... his thoughts were cut off when she thrust a package into his chest.

“What’s this?” he dropped the platter and examined the parcel wrapped in brown paper and tied off with string.

“It was what I’ve been doing all day,” she fastened some diamond earrings while changing shoes. “While you were playing chef, I went and got you some nice clothes.”

Alaric muttered under his breath as he opened the package. A black tailored suit and black polished shoes stopped his gripes. Alaric’s eyes widened as he ran his fingers over the fine material. The treads were honed by a true artisan and decided to thank her the only way he knew how.

“Uh, thanks,” he groaned inwardly.

“You're welcome,” Elara straightened her dress, flicked her hair about and turned in a slow circle. “How do I look?”

“Amazing.” Alaric gushed.

“You’re too sweet.” Elara finished her pirouette.

Alaric looked up from the suit in his hand. “Huh?”

“Get changed. The duke will be making his grand entrance soon.”

Alaric kicked off the estate-issued shoes and pants and put on the new suit pants. They fell to his ankles. Elara raised an eyebrow. He took the belt out of the work pants and tried again. They held. Within moments Alaric was dressed and walking up the path arm-in-arm with Elara.

Music mixed with the murmurs of the crowd began to wash over them. Elara’s arm wrapped tight around his, Alaric felt that rush of blood again as his heartbeat faster.

“So?” she asked in a hushed tone looking up at Alaric.

“So,” Alaric leaned closer.

“What did you see?”

“Oh,” Alaric straightened and looked ahead. “They’re minting coins in an underground alchemist lab down. I think I saw Kethyrall, but it was only a moment. I recognised that liver-spotted bald head anywhere. He was being manhandled out of the lab by a guard. There’s probably a whole underground tunnel between that building and the mansion. There were men pouring gun power and different colours of something into metal tubes. Not sure what they’re for. Must be the bombs.”

A slight scowl crossed Elara’s face as she murmured something under her breath. It was as if she was trying to piece together the puzzle with clues Alaric didn’t have.

“What’s the matter?” Alaric pressed.

“It must be in the office,” Elara shook her head. “If you’re right, we should be able to find an entrance to the tunnels in the mansion. Let’s go.”

They strode on, past the guard posted at the end of the path and into the milling crowd. Arm in arm they entered the ballroom that was now filled with dancing couples. Alaric scanned faces in the crowd. There was no sign of the duke yet. But he did notice that a select few wore that distinctive pendant. He felt an elbow in his ribs. He turned to Elara. Her eyes glittered like the diamond chandelier that hung in the centre of the ballroom. Alaric lost himself in them for a moment too long. She frowned.

“I said,” Elara tugged on his arm. “Seeing as we are both dressed up, aren’t you going to ask me to dance?”

Ice flowed from his veins and wedged into his heart. A lone bead of sweat trickled down his spine, only to disappear in the chasm between his cheeks. Alaric let out a welp. Elara tilted her head and raised an eyebrow. Alaric’s mouth tightened as he shook his head. Elara raised the other eyebrow. Alaric paled. Elara raised the first eyebrow even higher. Alaric’s eyes widened.

“Anything but that,” Alaric muttered.

“Oh, my…” Elara beamed. “You don’t know how to dance. Do you?”

“What? No,” Alaric’s bottom lip quivered. “Of course, I know how to dance. Any idiot can dance. I once saw a moose that was trained to dance. It wasn’t pretty.”

Memories came flooding back, from decades ago. A disaster of momentous proportions, so much so that he vowed never to step foot on another accursed dance floor. Alaric snatched a glass of red wine from a passing waiter, swallowed the velvety richness, with subtle tannins, in one gulp and returned it to the tray.

“Besides, Alaric continued. “The duke will be here any minute, we have to focus.”

“Come on,” Elara dragged him onto to dance floor. “Hand here, hand here and move your feet.”

Alaric felt himself be pulled into the current of dancers and started to drown. Just like he should have been doing on that beach down south, but no, he had to see the sights of the capital. And that damn fool Kethryll had to get himself caught up in this mess.

His feet started to find the rhythm. He wasn’t sure if it was the buzz from the wine, you Elara in his arms, be he started to enjoy dancing.

“How is it,” Elara said. “That you’ve fought dragons but are afraid to dance?”

“Dragons are just big dumb dogs that poop gold,” Alaric scoffed. “No, the real danger is in this viper's nest.”

They dance around the room, memorising faces, and listening to conversations. Elara pointed out the who’s who of the who’s who in this part of the realm. All wearing that same pendant. Alaric tried to remember all the titbits but was starting to get frustrated with their lack of progress.

The music stopped.

“See,” Elara pulled Alaric close and whispered in his ear. “That wasn’t so bad.”

The crowd clapped as the musicians bowed and left the stage. A voice boomed over the murmuring to announce the arrival of Duke Galen Fairsheild. The crowd clapped again.

The duke swaggered into the room and the sea of guests parted. All eyes were on him. The ladies swooned. Duke Fairchild was considered by many to be a handsome man. Tall, chiselled features, and dreamy eyes. Alaric didn’t see it. He frowned at Elara who seemed to forget why they were there. The duke was dressed in a fine burgundy suit that seemed to shift colours when the light hit it in a certain way. No, not quite burgundy. The duke took to the stage and waved. A glint from the lapel caught Alaric’s eye. A diamond pendant. The same fist-shaped pendant that a select few wore. Alaric swallowed hard.

“He’s wearing a magenta suit,” Alaric leaned down to Elara and whispered through gritted teeth trying not to make his lips move. “He’s wearing the same pendant that some of the others are wearing.”

Elara raised a hand to her lips to cover them before speaking. “You’re right.”

“Shhh,” The man in front of them scowled. “He’s about to speak.”

“Thank you all for attending,” Duke Fairsheild said in a raised voice. “Even in these uncertain times.”

Alaric rolled his eyes as the duke prattled on about this and that. Alaric zoned out and looked about. A servant slipped out of the door to the side of the stage, and Alaric got a glimpse into that back room. There was a man, one of the biggest he’d ever seen, in there. Another demigod. Alaric could sense him now. They could always sense when another of their kind was about. Alaric didn’t know how. Nobody ever took the time to explain his demigodhood to him.

The duke’s droning stopped. The crowd clapped like trained seals again and then the duke started shaking hands. The crowd began to mingle once more. Alaric’s head flicked about the room until he saw the servant had left the back room. Alaric wasn’t surprised to see the servant whisper to a member of the audience wearing the pendant. The guest nodded slightly before making a beeline for the backroom.

“We have to get our hands on those pendants,” Alaric said.

“You saw it too?” Elara asked.

Alaric nodded.

“Wait here,” Elara patted Alaric on the chest. The last pat lingered. Then she disappeared into the crowd. Through the sea of rich and wrinkled humanity, Alaric saw Elara bump into another guest and skilfully swipe their pendant. She glided to the other end of the room and repeated the process. Within a few heartbeats, she was back with Alaric. Her hands rested on his shoulders, then ran slowly down the front of his jacket, leaving behind a pendant. Alaric was lost for words.

“Let’s go.” Elara found them.