《Uncovering Montgomery》 Chapter One - The Sphere Derryl did not believe magic existed. Until that day everything changed. Summer break had started days before. The brothers celebrated their high school graduation where there were no more summer breaks for them. One last trip before Clarence left for college, that''s what they agreed on. Although not necessarily an adventure as they''d trek the woodlands and cliffs they have a hundred times before outside of the neighborhood. It satisfied him enough. The morning light glared into the back door window, streaming in the thin hall with the coat and shoe racks. At the front door were all the everyday gear, at the back were the camping gear. Derryl slipped his favorite boots on and swung his large hiking pack on his back. It had supplies in there for whatever obstacle they may face like dad taught him to pack. He wondered if he should have exchanged his jeans for cargo pants like Clarence but shrugged it off. Clarence huffed, struggling with his large pack with wiggly noodle arms, hardly managing to slip it on. When he did, he yanked his old black, holey beanie on his head in frustration. Short brown coils popped out of the edges. He wore that old thing year-round. Winter or summer, cold or hot, shivering or sweating, he wore it. He didn¡¯t like his hair in his face, while Derryl let his own wild mess of curls flow freely. Derryl eyed the metal detector leaning against the wall next to the back door. Mom got it for Clarence when he declared he wanted to be an Archaeologist, then quickly changed his mind to studying History when he figured he¡¯d have to be outside to find artifacts. They''d been meaning to take it for a spin in the woods, but school graduation and college applications got in the way after their birthday. Excuses, as far as Derryl was concerned. He grabbed it and tossed it to Clarence, nearly toppling him over into the coat rack. "Let''s see what we find," Derryl said. "I''m not carrying this thing up a bunch of cliffs," Clarence argued, staring at the thing as if it were some alien artifact. His brow furrowed at his brother. "Do you know how heavy this is?" "Wussy." Derryl threw the door open, the backyard opening up in the sun¡¯s ascent. He deeply inhaled the fresh morning air. Derryl smiled, stroking his hemp-knot bracelet his brother had made him. He made him one, as well. The bracelet reminded him of a promise they had made. They headed through the backyard. Clarence fiddled with his new toy, pushing buttons and flipping switches. Derryl marched ahead, ready for what the day brought, when the detector slowly beeped. He halted and whipped around to see. Clarence hovered it over the ground and proceeded to go where it beeped faster, and faster, until it was one long high-pitched noise. Right smack dab in the middle of the yard where grandma planted all her flowers next to the old shed. The summer flowers were in bloom, filling the air with a thick floral haze. They slipped under a giant purple hydrangea bush, and trampled the daisies scattered about and sprigs of forget-me-nots. They used to be Grandma¡¯s favorite. Mom had been doing her best to upkeep them but half of them were either wrinkling into themselves or wilted brown. She didn''t carry the green thumb gene, apparently. The long noise became unbearable to the ears. "Buried treasure found, I repeat, buried treasure found!" Clarence exclaimed. A big ol'' goofy grin spread across his face, his metal braces shimmering in the sunlight. Derryl chuckled at the thought of the detector going off on his face as an alarm clock one morning when they first got the thing, but he refrained. Grumpy morning Clarence was already bad enough. He shut off the detector and motioned him to the shed. "You''re digging." There was one shovel, and one small spade in the shed. Derryl tossed the spade to his brother. ¡°Have fun,¡± he teased. ¡°You¡¯re stronger anyway,¡± Clarence said. Derryl had been going on hikes since he was old enough to walk the trails with dad; he had a strong back and legs, but it didn¡¯t do much for his arms. Throwing his pack aside, he dug. And dug. He continued for what seemed like hours. Clarence watched and moved the dirt with the small spade in a pile away from the hole. He wondered how angry mom would be when she found a giant hole in her flower garden.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Clank!, the shovel rang, its spade penetrating the soft earth. Derryl raised a brow. He tossed the shovel aside and nursed his forming blisters. He¡¯d been digging so long he found himself surrounded by four walls of dirt. Sweat trickled down his temples. The sun rolled down into its descent by that time, peeking over the edge. Metal shined from the dirt where the shovel had met an impasse. He brushed it aside with a leap in his chest. ¡°What did you find?¡± Clarence called out from above. His face peeked over the edge of the chasm. Derryl convinced his brother to help dig for a small while, then he refused to dig any further down for fear of getting stuck down there, appointing him ladder duty. The possibility of mortal turmoil made Derryl want to do it more. The more danger, the bigger the thrill. Digging was more exhausting than thrilling, though. Finding something was the most eventful thing to happen all day. So much for camping. The metal tuned out to be an awkward sphere. Brownish-orange and grey with clumps of dirt clogging the cracks. ¡°A piece of junk,¡± Derryl said, presenting it to his brother. After the ladder slid down and he ascended above ground, him and his brother huddled together at the edge of the pit. In the distance, past the backyard fence, woods dense with tall trees with fluffy and pointed tops went on as far as the eye beheld. Many a day he spent in those woods, and many a memory made. He hadn¡¯t made it out there lately, and it looked as if he wouldn¡¯t again before his brother left. Clarence nudged him. His eyes smiled, genuine joy over their shared treasure. They brushed the dirt off it in unison, revealing deep and intentional crevices in the sphere. It separated segments of the brownish orange from the grey in a complicated patchwork. ¡°It looks like another one of grandma¡¯s antiques,¡± Clarence said. He spun it around in his hands. ¡°Why bury it in the backyard?¡± Derryl wondered. ¡°Grandma hid these things everywhere like a gremlin, dummy.¡± ¡°Dummy, huh?¡± Derryl pursed his lips and reached for the sphere, but his brother kept it out of reach. He took off for the house, inciting a chase. Since they were little, they¡¯ve played the chasing game. One of them ended up hurt by the end every time. Clarence wasn¡¯t much for horseplay anymore with his nose always buried in books safe inside the house. Perhaps he did it then to make Derryl feel better. An attempt to bring back the old times before he left for school or reconnect after dad died. They had grown distant in the last few months. Whatever the case, he fully embraced the play. ¡°Give it back, Clarence!¡± Derryl shouted, giving chase through the backyard. Clarence flashed his tongue. ¡°The metal detector was my birthday present. It¡¯s mine by right!¡± "But I did all the hard work!¡± They circled back around the yard from where they came. Clarence shot glances back at Derryl, a toothy grin so wide it stretched from one side to the other. Derryl hadn¡¯t seen it for a while by then. It inspired his own smile. Clarence tripped on a loose rock. Tumbling into the dirt, the sphere bounced from his hand back into the hole from where it came. ¡°Guess who¡¯s going down there to fetch it,¡± Derryl said, catching his breath. He helped his brother to his feet. Blood dripped from Clarence¡¯s nose onto his shirt, and he wiped the rest on his hand. His eyes widened seemingly from the prospect of venturing down, the green in them turned minty from the sunlight. A strip of freckles over his nose and cheeks became prevalent in the light. Derryl shoved him in. It wasn¡¯t that deep. He had not noticed his brother clenched his shirt until he fell alongside him. They crashed at the bottom, body aching. The sphere lay there, mocking him. As he plucked it back from the dirt, he realized a gaping gash in his arm trailing down onto the sphere. His arm must have caught a root or rock on the way down. . .The blood vanished as soon as it leaked onto the metal, almost as if it were absorbing it. He rolled over to see Clarence lying beside him, eyes closed. What had he done? The lines of the sphere glowed, a bright luminescent light filling the deep dark pit. The world then shrouded in blackness, shadows creeping in from all sides. He felt light as a feather floating through space as fast as a hawk soaring through the skies. Then, a bright blinding light leaked in through the darkness again. The fabric of reality stretched and their existence here or there were put into question. Derryl held Clarence¡¯s hand so tightly he feared it¡¯d break in two. He didn¡¯t dare let him go. But, his hand slipped away, and they separated. The floating feeling transitioned to falling, much like the feeling like falling into the hole before and an abrupt stop, busting through a bunch of wooden boxes. They were not in the backyard anymore. Chapter Two - The Castle Derryl groaned. His body ached from head to toe. A subtly lit room opened up around him, orange from the hue of a couple torches perched on the rough stone walls. Stacks of barrels and crates scattered around arranged like a vast maze. Shelves filled with weaved baskets and clay bowls and metal tankards up against one wall of the room. Circular, rusted metal chandeliers hung from the ceiling unlit. A pungent dank odor thick in the air. He struggled to lift himself up, a bunch of broken crates popped and cracked under him. Had he broken them with his body? He surprised himself with his own resilience as of late. He stroked his hemp-knot bracelet, thoughts of Clarence flooding in his mind. Something they shared near or far apart. ¡°Clarence, are you there?¡± he called out. A piercing shriek echoed from the other side of the room, past a high pile of containers. A shelf crashed over there, bowls shattered, and a round basket rolled across the floor. A couple rats scurried off away from the chaos. Clarence crawled over the containers, emerging like a mole out of a mound caked in dust and cobwebs and streaks of red. ¡°What happened?¡± Derryl asked. Clarence slid down next to his brother. His widened eyes darted to the dark corners of the room. ¡°Where are we?¡± ¡°We were just home, then---¡± The breath caught in Derryl¡¯s throat. ¡°How¡¯d we get here?¡± ¡°All I remember is falling, then nothing until rats crawled over my legs.¡± He gurgled, covering his mouth. ¡°We need to find out where we are.¡± With an affirming nod, he took his brother¡¯s hand, which trembled in his own, and they ventured to the only door the room offered. The planks flopped, and their boots pressed to the hard stone floors. The doorknob was a giant metallic ring that resembled an oversized horseshoe, half-rusted. Good thing they had their tetanus shots. Pulling the ring, the heavy door creaked open. They peeked out into a long stone hallway that stretched indefinitely in one direction and a rickety wooden staircase at the end of the other. Torches hung snug in their metallic clasps on the stone walls evenly dotted apart. ¡°The stairs might lead to a house, and we can go home,¡± Derryl suggested. ¡°What if someone¡¯s up there?¡± Clarence asked, wiggly as a weasel. He looked down the long, endless hallway. ¡°Maybe we can find another secret way out and avoid getting caught.¡± Derryl shook his head. ¡°Getting caught by who? There is no one.¡± He sighed and pulled his brother along. They will get nowhere with him scared of every shadow that passes. They crept out into the hallway. It was eerily empty and quiet. Dank and humid. Smoke from the torches filled his nostrils. Their shoes echoed loudly in the stillness. Hiking boots are not great sneaking gear. "Wait, why are we sneaking again?" Derryl asked out loud. Clarence shushed him and whispered, "There might be kidnappers or murderers around any corner." "You read too many horror stories." "What other explanation is there?" "You really think we got knocked out in our own backyard, inside a hole in the ground no less, at the same exact time and thrown on a bunch of barrels? Not to mention, the door didn''t even have a lock!" He groaned, thinking of that hole in the backyard. ¡°Mom will kill us.¡± Clarence covered Derryl''s mouth with a sweaty hand and pulled him to a stop. Faint voices echoed from further down the hallway behind them. A cone of light fought against the darkness at the end of the hallway with several figures inside it. It slowly ventured closer and closer to them.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Derryl slapped away Clarence''s hand and wiped his brother¡¯s slimy sweat off his face. "Get a hold of your nerves!" he said. "It''s the murderers!" Clarence whispered, pulling him along toward the staircase. The stairs seemed like a good idea then, Derryl surmised. Daylight streamed in through the cracks of the wooden planked door at the top. "Halt! Who goes there?" A deep, muffled voice called out. The figures ran toward them. The closer they got, the louder metal clanking against stone echoed through the corridors. "State ye¡¯ business or face the sword!" Derryl snorted amusingly. "Sword? You¡¯ve got to be kidding me." "Look what you did, you idiot!" Clarence whispered frantically. They scrambled up the stairs and burst through the old door at the top. Derryl couldn''t help but look back at those supposed murderers of which his brother claimed. Three men, two of which fashioned mail and coats of arms. Long swords dangling from their hips in plain wooden scabbards. The third, and the biggest one, covered head to toe in steel plate armor. A bucket helm hid his face with nothing but a slit to see through and holes to breathe through. It looked like they stepped right out of the pages of a medieval fantasy novel, or a live action role-playing game. They ascended the stairs with the knight in lead. Derryl shot his hands up in surrender. ¡°I am but a poor peasant, Sir knight,¡± he said, playing along. ¡°Please have mercy on thee.¡± Clarence got wide-eyed. ¡°Have you lost your mind?!¡± The sword scraped from the knight¡¯s ornately encrusted scabbard, and it pointed directly at the brothers. It shimmered in the daylight tunneling down the stairs. "The sword it be, then, peasant. Ye¡¯ not permitted to be in the keep," he said, a deep voice muffled in his helmet. "In the name o¡¯ the king---" Derryl was yanked into the hallway, brightly lit by a long line of windows without glass, and pulled into a sprint. He hadn¡¯t a clue how. Or where they went. "Seize the intruders!" They bolted through the maze of hallways, and found a staircase that led up a level, but not down any. Another maze run through the next level. Derryl felt weaker and weaker the longer they ran, his legs felt as wiggly as gelatin by the time they decided to hide in a room to rest. They had found an unoccupied room that looked like a lounge or meeting area of some sort. All stone and wood, and no lamps or electricity to be seen. Clarence rolled behind a marble statue of a half-naked woman, holding a long cloth over her bottom but not her top, on the far end of the room to hide. He didn¡¯t hear the clanking of the knight, so they must be safe. Derryl let his curiosity get the better of him and wandered around. Light poured in through the wide latticed windows, a warm breeze ruffling the blue velvet curtains. Floral arrangements centered on a low table in the middle of a bunch of brocade chairs and couches, filling the room with thick, sickening floral air. As if his allergies weren''t bad enough. He already started to sniffle. Paintings of men and women in old-fashioned clothes hung on the walls, either Victorian or medieval. Clarence knew since he wanted to study history, but he had disappeared behind the statue. The best painting was the man with a golden, gem-encrusted crown atop untamed red hair. Fancy tapestries hung between all the windows and between the portraits, gold lining on dark green fabric. The design, a golden leafless tree with roots expanding at the bottom, and lines curling in on themselves lined the edges. It reminded him of the one grandma hung in the living room back home. ¡°Clarence, come look,¡± Derryl egged on his finicky other half. ¡°Grandma has one of these.¡± With no response. The door swung open. Derryl slipped behind one of the curtains to avoid detection and peeked through a narrow slit. The iron-clad knight emerged through the door, armor clank, clank, clanking, his leather-bound hand holding the hilt of his sheathed sword on his hip. The other two hadn¡¯t accompanied him. Perhaps it was another knight. He wondered why they were so important that they had a search party after them. It had happened so fast. ¡°There ye¡¯ be,¡± the knight said. He homed in, and cornered Derryl, sweeping the curtains aside. He snatched his arm, his fingers digging into the wound from the fall and pulled him along to the door. He struggled against it but the knight¡¯s grip was stronger than steel cuffs. He had no choice but to go along with it. There was nothing behind the statue of the naked woman. He wanted to cry out for Clarence, but if he had a chance to get away, he must. They shall find each other later. He was sure of it. Somehow. The knight led Derryl through a series of halls and stairs until they approached giant wooden double doors with painted designs on them. A picturesque scenery with green grass and trees and a river, and one giant tree that towered over them all, roots sprawling down the lower half of the door. He banged on the door and pushed them open. He must face a king in a place he did not belong. A being with the power to do with Derryl as he pleased. Chapter Three - There Be Tricksters Among Us Clarence chewed his lip. He didn¡¯t know where he was or exactly how he got there. He fell as if the floor lost its solidity and collapsed in an open linen heap in the level below. It smelled like the dogs make the blankets stink back home. Servants in worn, threadbare garments darted around the dim room like busy bees collecting pollen without noticing him at all. They carried baskets of linens, piles of pots, and cutlery clanked around. A pile of dirty ones lay in an empty washbasin in the corner. He had slid down inside the pile of linens to refrain from gaining their attention. Smoke slithered into the room as a fire started in the hearth in the adjoining chamber. A giant kettle hovered over it and a dead and skinned creature was on the spit. Some of the servants caught sight of him, but quickly disregarded him. Each time it frayed his nerves. They knew he didn¡¯t belong there. They had to. His teeth pinched his lip the more he chewed, a trail of blood dribbled down his chin. He didn¡¯t care by then. He was covered in who-knows-what from who-knows-where. Dust and blood, mostly. It made his skin crawl, but he had no choice but to get used to it. He doubted there was a bath anywhere he was allowed access. A washbasin, perhaps. Yes. He¡¯d find a washbasin somewhere in the servants¡¯ quarters. He shook it off, along with some of the dust, and came to his senses. Forget washing. He had to find new clothes to better fit in. . .wherever they ended up. He remembered reading it in a children¡¯s book when he was little about the magical artifacts that, when presented with the right conditions, bring the holder to alternate worlds to their own. That was the only thing that made sense, since they weren¡¯t kidnapped by murderers. Obviously. They were in a castle. There were no castles in their town. ¡°You!¡± A woman¡¯s hoarse voice cried out. Clarence jumped, nearly out of the linen pile. An older woman approached, wicker basket in tow full with soiled linens. ¡°Doin¡¯ some sorting in there, boy?¡± A skeptical observation. She poured the contents of her basket on him, a fluff of new stinks brushed against his senses. ¡°Ah, yes. . .¡± Clarence said, emerging from the pile. ¡°I just¡ª¡± ¡°Started today? I couldn¡¯t tell.¡± She handed him the basket, and pushed him toward the door. ¡°Get busy or get dead, we like to say.¡± She gave him an odd look, looking him up and down. ¡°Where am I going?¡± ¡°Well, that depends on who you serve. No one here by the looks of you.¡± She waved him off. ¡°The guest quarters are up the stairs.¡± Hurrying out the door, he rushed through the hallway but had no clue where to go but up. Where he came from. He resolved to find servants clothing somewhere on the level. If he blended into the rest of the servant staff, he¡¯d walk around freely and then find Derryl. His brother probably already got into trouble. He never takes anything seriously. He found an a door unlocked and slipped inside. It looked like a lavatory, but there were clothes hanging from the ceilings. A small blessing. A musk of old sweaty shoes and mildew embraced him as the tunic and trousers slipped on. He was sure the tunic used to be white but now presented a light brown. He itched his arm through the sleeve and left behind his clothes dropped through the toilets. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. Going up a level, avoiding the guards attention with his new garments. There was the room he last saw Derryl down the hall. The door creaked open. The sun dimmed its glow to a deep orange as it met the horizon, meekly streaming into the room. It got late so quickly. There was no one there. He knelt next to the curtains. Blood had spattered on the wooden floors. Clarence slid down against the wall. His brother did do something stupid and got himself captured or killed. However, there¡¯s not enough blood to suggest they killed him in that room, but attacked him, perhaps. It had to be the knight. He must find Derryl before he does get killed. Not only find his brother, but the sphere. It¡¯s what brought them there in the first place, he was sure of it. He was sure he saw it light up like a light bulb back home. He didn¡¯t know how he¡¯d find Derryl, but the sphere must be in the cellar. As soon as he burst out of the chamber with a new sense of purpose, an old man with long, flowing robes turned around the corner. A long, grey beard fell down his chest. He spotted Clarence instantly. A curiously raised brow was the last thing he saw of the old man before he covered his face with the basket. He pretended to pick something up off the floor, and hovered there until the old man went on his way. He did not go on his way. Instead, he stopped in front of him, his fingers casually interlaced. ¡°Boy,¡± he said. Clarence aggressively chewed his lip. The old man knew. He knew he didn¡¯t belong there. He had to. What other reason was there to acknowledge him? ¡°M¡¯lord.¡± The old man watched him a while longer. ¡°It seems there is naught there, yet there you remain.¡± Clarence peered over his protective basket. ¡°I¡¯m regaining composure after a fall.¡± ¡°I did not see you fall, just now.¡± ¡°Perhaps you should get your eyes checked.¡± His heart leapt and bore down on him. ¡°You may be right, boy. I have been seeing double, it seems. One here, one there.¡± ¡°Some spectacles may be in order.¡± The old man hummed, seemingly not convinced. ¡°You have interesting eyes.¡± Clarence swallowed hard and dry. ¡°From your father¡¯s side?¡± ¡°How did you---¡± Clarence shot up, his heart leaping higher. ¡°I mean, it could be. I don¡¯t know.¡± He cracked a crooked smile. Clarence felt bare in the face of the strange old man¡¯s gaze, as if he peered straight into his soul under a low grey brow. ¡°Who are you?¡± ¡°Therin, court wizard and advisor to the king,¡± he said casually. ¡°The better question here is who might you be?¡± ¡°No one of note, m¡¯lord. A lowly servant.¡± His voice cracked under the intense pressure of the wizard¡¯s watchful eyes. They darted all across his face as he spoke looking for any tell that he lied. ¡°My name is Petre.¡± Therin nodded slowly, a knowing glint in his eye. He pointed down the hallway behind him. ¡°The king does not keep idle servants, Petre.¡± Clarence clenched his basket and started past the wizard. He got past that, at least. He has to avoid others better in the future. The old man placed a hand on his chest, preventing him from passing. A warmness permeated into his flesh, into his bones, and rattled him to his core. It brought up images of home. Of dad and mom and grandma, all huddled together for a family photo before she died. Of Derryl and him cuddling in their crib together because they cried fiercely when they were separated. He saw Derryl and Clarence playing in a sandbox at the local park when they were toddlers. He saw Derryl and Clarence facing their first day of high school together, that vicious, corrupt hellscape. They were always together, Derryl and Clarence. He saw dad smiling next to a campfire, stoking it with a long stick. He saw grandma pulling weeds in her garden and giving him a glance with mint green eyes glistening in the sunlight. ¡°There be tricksters among us,¡± the wizard whispered, and let him run off with tears welling in his eyes.