chapter 2

Enigma

Silence, was the only thing spoken between them as Darius contemplated the question. It didn’t seem too complex of a question, who is the Tyro Specter? Hardly reason to take this long to figure out an answer, unless he was coming up with a lie.

Devon eyed Darius suspiciously. Was he thinking of some lie to throw him off? and if so, why? Darius had yelled about the Tyro Specter back at the bar, yet he wasn’t willing to give Devon an honest answer. What could the big secret be?

“The Tyro Specter,” Darius began after clearing his throat. Devon jumped in surprise. “If you want a simple answer, is a ghost.”

Seriously? He spent all that time thinking up a tall tail and that’s what he comes up with? Devon raised an eyebrow in response.

“I know it’s difficult to believe.”

“That’s an understatement.” Devon scoffed.

“But it’s not a lie.”

That statement caught him off guard. Had Darius known that he thought that he was lying?

“How could that not be a lie? There’s no such thing as ghosts.”

“Are you sure about that?” Darius asked with a smirk.

“Of course I am. Ghosts are imaginary creatures that someone made up seeking attention.”

They both sat in silence for a moment before Darius piped in. “You don’t trust people very much do you?”

“Why would you say that?” Devon asked, feeling insulted.

“I can only assume that people have told you fantastic tales, that you have immediately shut down as lies.”

“That’s not true.” Devon defended “I trust people.”

“mmhmm, can you count the number of people you trust on two hands?” Darius asked, holding up his hands for emphasis. Devon opened his mouth to speak but closed it again. He knew a lot of people, but it never occurred to him that he barely trusted any of them. He trusted his brother and his neighbor, but everyone else had yet to earn his trust. And some that did, had lost it already.

He slumped back in his chair and grunted.

“I thought so.” Devon glared when Darius had spoken. “Whether you believe it or not, the Tyro Specter is a ghost.

“What proof do you have?” Devon barked.

“I’ve seen him. He ran by me once, then disappeared.”

“Just because some guy can hide doesn’t mean he’s a ghost.”

“I never said he hid. I said he disappeared.” He poured some salt on the table then blew on it. The crystals shot away like hundreds of little darts in every direction, leaving an empty expanse where the pile used to be. “Vanish, become invisible, dis-a-pear-ed.”

Devon was becoming increasingly annoyed with this story, but it was the only information he was getting. His mind flickered back to his conversation with uncle Al in the bar. “Fine, so this ghost” he finger quoted ghost “just shows up and runs around and randomly dis-a-pear-s in front of them?”

Darius interlaced his fingers and leaned forward against the table “Not exactly. This ghost has a mission it seems to be trying to complete.”

“It’s going after something?”

“Not something, someone.”

Devon raised an eyebrow “is this some kind of vengeful spirit?” Darius nodded. “So you don’t even know why it wants revenge?” Devon asked, unaware of how he was becoming swept up in the obviously fictional ghost story.

“That’s the interesting thing. We know exactly where it came from, and who it’s after.”

“And that would be who?” Devon asked.

“DARIUS!” a voice called from the threshold of the inn. Devon looked to see a young man run to them. He was a few inches taller than Devon but he was slouching, taking away at least an inch and a half. His skin was dark, just like his hair, that was cut short. And he appeared to have more muscle tone than Darius.

His clothes were thoroughly soaked, and his breath came out in huffs. Devon figured he must have been running around for a while in the rain.

“What happened Paul.” Darius asked, before adding. “You look terrible.”

Paul gave a half grin. “You’re hard to find. I had to check every building between here and the bar.” He explained. “but more importantly we found…” he gave an unsure glance to Devon.

“He’s fine, what did you find?” Darius asked, sounding agitated.

Paul again gave a suspicious glance, before deciding to not listen to Darius and whisper the information so Devon wouldn’t be able to hear it. Devon glared at the back of Paul’s head in annoyance, but was determined to get this information. He closed his eyes and listened over the roar of the other guests. It was difficult but he managed to catch bits and pieces of the conversation.

“….Alidoro cotton…..at the bar…..someone knew him….delicious soup!” Devon blinked in confusion. Delicious soup? It took him a minute to realize that that comment came from the man at the table next to theirs. Without warning, Darius hopped to his feet and made his way to the door.

“We have to hurry. He could have heard that we are in town and be trying to make a break for it.” as he said this, he and Paul hurried out the door.

“hey wait, come back!” Devon called after them as he stumbled off his chair. Suddenly a girl stepped in front of him. She was wearing an apron and had her blond hair pulled back into a ponytail. “what?” he asked, impatiently looking over her shoulder.

“She scowled at his rude behavior. “Here.” She shoved a sandwich into his hands then folded her arms and waited. It took Devon a moment to realize that she was waiting for him to pay for the food. He reached into his pocket and pulled out some money, that he dropped in the girls hand while skirting around her to get to the door.

The rain was pouring harder than ever. Devon felt like he was being pelted with pails of water. He squinted to see his surroundings, but failed to distinguish any silhouettes in the darkness. It had taken him too long to leave the inn, and he managed to lose them.

“Damn!” he cursed under his breath. The ice-cold rain that soaked through his clothes made him shiver and retreat under the over hang of a building’s roof. Might as well go home. He thought, disappointed, to himself, as he pulled the collar of his shirt up in a futile attempt to keep out some of the cold.

He only lived five blocks away, so it wasn’t long before he was walking up the pathway that led to his front door. The doorknob had been sticky since he and his brother Trent had moved to this town. Neither of them had bothered to fix it, so eventually they just got used to it. After a while Devon didn’t want anyone to fix it. the loud thud alerted anyone inside that there was an intruder. The house would seem incomplete if the door was quiet.

Devon turned the knob and shoulder-checked his way in. the house was small but cozy. There was a wood burning stove in the corner and a few doors that led to the bedrooms and the kitchen. Wood, and furniture–made-of-wood, cluttered the whole house. Each one was decorated with carvings of vines, dragons, and other designs. Trent had made a living of building wooden furniture, he was also very talented in art, so on each piece he would carve something. It was very popular in Ragon, the town loved it. leaving Trent very busy, and the house constantly cluttered with chairs and benches. He sidestepped a stool and walked into the kitchen.

Trent was there, sitting by a table, on a stool with a picture of a lion on it. He was facing away from Devon, focused on carving what looked like a bird, into a chair. He glanced away from his masterpiece when DevOn walked in. Trent looked very similar to Devon, except a few years older. He had dark hair that was sun bleached, and his hands were covered in calluses and scars from years of carpentry.

“Hey birthday boy. Finished drinking already?” he asked, looking at the clock.

“You are not going to believe what happened.” Devon said as he sat in a chair. It didn't take long to explain the events that happened to him since he went to the bar. When he finished, he looked at Trent, waiting for his reaction. While the explanation was being told, Trent had stopped carving and was waiting politely. When the story was done he placed the carving tools on the table and interlaced his fingers.

“So let me get this straight.” He began, “you met uncle Al, who has been missing for seventeen years, then you talked to some guy named Darius who told you that a ghost is running around attacking people?”

“Yes.”

Trent eyed him suspiciously. “Were you drinking before or after all this happened?”

“Before, but I only had one drink and-”

The quiet room was instantly filled with Trent’s laughter as he began a vicious laughing fit. “I don’t know what actually happened, but you must be some kind of lightweight to think all of that craziness with only one drink.” after a few moments Trent’s laughter subsided, Devon glaring the whole time.

“I’m not drunk! And I did see uncle Al! and I did talk to Darius!” he barked.

“suuure you did.” Trent teased, as he got back to his carving.

“I knew you wouldn’t believe me.” Devon muttered under his breath as he stormed out of the room.

He decided to get some fresh air, so he stepped outside and leaned against the door, the roof protecting him from the rain. “I’m not drunk.” He growled to himself. For a moment he began to doubt whether he had actually seen uncle Al, but quickly shook his head. NO! I know what I saw.

Movement to Devon’s right caught his attention. The prospect of a ghost physically attacking someone, brought a nervous shiver that crawled over his skin. He had never been one to listen to crazy stories, but somehow this one hit him. He couldn’t help but imagine a chalk-white figure coming out of the shadows towards him. His heart began to beat faster and his body temperature began to rise without his consent, causing a thin layer of nervous sweat to appear on his forehead. The rain clattered on the soaked grass, masking any other noise, and slightly blurring the dark figure as it advanced through the shadows. Devon’s hand reached out behind him, searching for the doorknob. Relief swelled through him when he gripped cold metal. He twisted his wrist but the door wouldn’t budge. “Damn it!” he cursed. The figure seemed to hear him, and stopped. This brought a whole new wave of panic. Devon kicked at the door, and rammed into it, but it was stuck good. The figure was on his lawn now, creeping closer, and closer. Devon could hear it no more than ten feet away. “OPEN YOU…..” he roared at the door, before suddenly it gave way and he collapsed into his home. The light from inside the house, shone through the doorway, illuminating the front lawn, and the figure……who was standing in the threshold.

chapter 1

Questions

The rain poured down from the sky, slowly eroding the footprints in the dirt. Lamps could barely stay lit in the downpour. The wooden buildings soaked up much of the moisture, and buckets caught the their fill before the powder dry ground swallowed in the rest. Distant howling could be heard from the small bar, causing the superstitious to shudder. From inside the rickety walls, commotion echoed around the room.

Sitting on a barstool was an average height, skinny boy. The water from his soaked hair and damp clothes dripped on the floor making large puddles. He took a swig from his glass; the bitter taste caused his expression to change to a cringe. The glass gently returned to its place on the counter, and he brushed nearly black hair out of his face. He looked around the room, his hazel eyes taking in every detail.

The bar was old and worn down, broken windows and peeling paint littered all of the walls. Old tables and chairs were randomly spread about the room. Stains and holes in the walls from numerous bar fights still lingered, even some of the glass was still jammed in the walls.

Once this bar was in peak perfection, but that day was long gone.

Despite the bars obvious disrepair it was packed with travelers celebrating various holidays, or drinking their problems away.

The boy’s eyes darted around until the door opened sending gusts of wind bellowing into the room. He looked at the entrance. A man in a trench coat, thick boots, and a large black hat, stepped in. He hobbled over, using his cane to keep himself up. The white mustache covering his upper lip dripped rainwater down his black coat.

The man’s whole appearance seemed oddly familiar to the boy. The unwanted confusion made him feel uneasy, goose bumps appeared on his skin as the man sat in the seat next to him.

He resisted the urge to plug his nose when the foul odor reached him. The man smelt like a combination of wet dog and rotting fish. The boy leaned over in his chair, in search of fresh air.

“What can I get for ya?” the bar maid asked.

“Whiskey, no ice” the man answered in a raspy voice.

The bar maid nodded and strode away to get his drink. The man heaved a relaxed sigh as he leaned back in his seat. Years of exhaustion weighed heavily on his face, deep wrinkles framed his mouth and eyes, deep lines had slowly etched their way between his eye brows, making the man appear much older than he probably was.

The boy was determined to ignore the mans presence, he studied a crack in the counter, its rigid edges gracefully stretched across the wooden surface, spreading out in different directions like a thin tree, until coming to a halt under the boy’s glass. He gazed at it through the clear surface, smudging in ridiculous directions then disappearing as the crack ended.

“Devon?” the raspy low voice asked.

The boy turned at the mention of his name. The old man was staring at him, an inquisitive look on his face.

The prospect of a stranger knowing his name was frightening and intimidating to Devon. He wasn’t about to just answer any question that man had; why would he? That man had no right to know anything about him. But he was frustratingly familiar.

Devon had always been good with faces; it was rare for an image of a person to be erased in his mind. The only flaw was he had difficulty matching faces with names, which left him in similar situations, desperately trying to recall the name of the face in front of him.

The need to know why this man was so familiar and the instinctive feeling not to let the man know who he was fought an internal battle in his mind.

The only thing Devon could think of saying was “who wants to know?” He had never been good with witty comments.

The man’s relaxed face, hardened: the lines in his face deepened, and his eyes narrowed. The change startled Devon, who winced and leaned farther away.

“Well I wanna know so are you Devon or aren’t you?” the man barked.

Devon flinched from the hostility. Plan ‘A’ had failed and he desperately tried to come up with something to say that didn’t reveal his name.

The task proved too much for him, so he decided to take a risk and answer the question.

“Yes” he whispered.

“Good” The man grinned.

Fear and confusion began to overwhelm Devon. Questions began erupting in his mind so fast that he almost didn’t notice that he barked a few out loud.

“Who are you? What do you want with me? How do you know my name? And why do you smell like fish and dogs?” he almost yelled.

The man didn’t expect the barrage of questions. A surprised expression wiped the smile from his face for a moment, before being replaced with a deep throaty laugh.

Frustration began to creep up on Devon, making itself comfortable next to the other emotions he was trying to keep contained.

The man scratched his white hair. “Who am I?” he chuckled “you probably don’t remember me kid”

Avoiding the subject? Devon thought. “Try me.” Devon commanded

A smile tugged at the corner of the man’s lips. “Okay then,” he started “I’m your uncle Al”

Confusion, frustration and fear were simultaneously washed away like the dirt on the bar’s rainy widow. That one statement answered why the man was so familiar, why he knew Devon’s name but not what he wanted, or why he was there. Devon recognized him because of an old picture of his uncle holding him as a baby. His face had aged but he was definitely the same man.

Uncle Al had disappeared seventeen years ago on Devon’s second birthday, in fact it was seventeen years ago to the day. Devon was spending his birthday alone in the beat up bar. Not the best choice for a birthday celebration but he was satisfied with it.

The previous questions were replaced with waves of new ones.

“I’m sure your probably confused-” Al started but was interrupted.

“Are you crazy?” Devon barked, “Of course I’m confused! Where did you go? Why did you come back? How did you find me?”

They stared at each other for a few moments. Devon glared at his uncle waiting for the answers to escape from Al’s lips. Al, a little startled by the many questions, paused for a moment before smiling again.

“Here’s your order” the bar maid piped in “whiskey with no ice”

The intrusion broke the silence and Devon went back to studying the cracked counter. His uncle, pleased at receiving the drink, politely thanked the girl and sipped his beverage.

“Well?” Devon demanded rudely.

The glass gradually emptied with every one of Al’s gulps. A thin line of liquid drizzled down his chin, and into his beard.

Devon’s impatiens began to grow. His fingers tapped the table creating a steady rhythmic beat, which echoed through the one quiet section of the bar they were sitting in. The drink separated from his uncle’s lips, and with a clink, was returned to the countertop.

“It would do you well to learn patients boy.” His uncle glared. “But I suppose so should I,” he laughed. “Well then, lets start with the first question, unless of course you would prefer to begin with the second or even better the third question? But on the other hand maybe those questions are too simple and dull which would lead to hours of needless boredom, for you as well as me. So based on that logic, we need a brand new set of questions. Something more imaginative so I wont doze in mid-conversation.” Al took another sip of his whisky.

Devon was stunned for a moment at the suddenness of that statement. The words that came flying out of Al’s mouth fell into his ears in a jumbled mess, swirling around in his head until he translated enough make out his uncles meaning.

He’s still avoiding the subject, what’s he got to hide? Devon thought he wants a better question huh? Devon was puzzled for a moment. Then was interrupted by the foul odor.

“Blech, why do you smell like fish and wet dog?”

Al smiled.

“Finally an interesting question” he sipped his drink. “It’s because I’ve been at sea for the past sixteen years. Half of which meh dog was with me, he’s tied up outside, apparently canines aren’t aloud” Al snorted in distain. “Anyway I came by to see how my ol’ nephew was doing while I was in town.”

Devon sat there in silence, thinking that answered almost all of my questions in one blow. He thought but that story doesn’t make sense.

“So you were just swinging by to see me while your boat was here?”

“Yep”

“But we moved, I used to live in Honamu, that’s on the other side of the country. How could you have known I was here?”

“Your mom wrote to me, she’s still living in Honamu right?”

“Ya, but no one knew where you went. And she can’t write”

Sweat was appearing on the back of his uncle’s neck, muscles tightened in nervousness.

But before Al could answer a crash came from behind them. A man had flipped a table in a furious rage. Three people were idled, table less, two of them looked worried but the last one remained perfectly calm, arms crossed and slouching in his chair. He glared at the man who flipped the table; he was standing up, panting from lifting the heavy wood.

The man standing was thin with lean muscles framing his arms and legs. Medium length hair was pulled into a ponytail behind his head; stubble was forming on his lower jaw. He wore a brown tank top under a black vest, and dark brown pants. Everyone at the table seemed to be wearing a similar outfit. Must be a uniform Devon thought

The man sitting down was, heavy set, the same uniform as the thin man, with bleach blond hair and a goatee on his chin. His arms were crossed and he had a stern expression

“Don’t you dare insult Tyro!” the thin man commanded “That was a noble city, the only one brave enough to stand up to the tyrant of a military we have here.”

“A tyrant, the military may be, and its gonna stay that way.” the large man scoffed “The only thing left of that town, after the army destroyed it, is a few trees on the outskirts.”

“But Tyro’s not done fighting-“

The tall man was interrupted. “Tyro was burned to the ground! Its gone! Nothing left! Only a fool would expect a dead city to fight back.”

“Have you not heard the rumors?” the thin man asked

“What are you talking about?”

“The Tyro Specter.”

The bar fell quiet; all the inhabitants listened intently to the men’s conversation. Devon felt uneasy at the sudden silence, and shifted in his chair. A woman tried to hold in a sneeze, in an attempt to not draw attention to her, but failed and blasted the sound echoing around the room. The two men didn’t notice.

“What’s the Tyro Specter?’’ Devon whispered to his uncle. The small sound echoed through the room alerting the two arguing men. The tall one spun around, and marched over to Devon. A swell of perspiration washed over Devon like a splash of water over driftwood. Every instinct told him to run out the door to the rain before the man could walk up to him, but a combination of bravery and curiosity kept him seated.

“What did you say boy?” the man asked after stopping a foot and a half from Devon.

“Umm….” Devon muttered

“Speak up boy!”

“I said, what’s the Tyro Specter”

“That’s what I thought you said. Are these out skirting towns really that ignorant to the world around them, that they don’t even know what the Tyro Specter is.”

The man’s insults sent blood rushing to Devon’s face in both anger and embarrassment. The whole bar was staring at them now, even the bar maid stopped pouring drinks to watch. The extra attention just seemed to fuel the fire with the tall mans insults.

“I bet you have no idea what an Iguana is either, or the Ladin troops? Hell do you even know where Laturndesque is?”

Devon’s hands tightened into a fist. He didn’t know what any of what that man was talking about was, but what he did know was that man was insulting him, and he wasn’t going to let him get away with that unscathed. Muscles tightened in his arm, one more word and I’ll send this guy into next week Devon silently decided with himself.

“That’s enough, leave the kid alone.” A gruff voice said.

Devon looked and was surprised to see Al standing there defending him. He had no reason to defend him, they were practically strangers, but even though that was true, an angry vein stuck out in the side of Al’s neck. He looked as though he was about to explode yet his voice remained calm. The tall man noticed as well and took a nervous step back.

Devon would have felt humiliated by being rescued, but instead he was worried more about his uncle’s erratic behavior, and how to not get on his bad side.

“Ya real tough picking on a kid.” The large man commented, still sitting in the chair.

Insulted, the tall man barked back “don’t give me that! You would be in my shoes had he been defending the Tyro Specter.”

The large man cocked his head to the side. “We can both see I haven’t, so stop harassing the kid”

The tall man turned to Devon; to see the glair the boy was giving him. He sent a glare back to Devon, and stuck a boney finger at him.

“You’d do well to do your homework kid, Ignorance is weakness in this world.” With that, the tall man turned and walked to the exit. Icy gusts of air bellowed in as the door opened, sending shivers down every spine in the room.

The interest changed from the tall man, to Devon. He slumped in his seat, trying to shake off the eyes focusing on him wondering what he’ll do next. Al sat down and continued sipping his drink.

Devon’s young mind wondered, this night proved to be full of more questions than he could tolerate; every new piece information just added to the pile. And the man sipping alcohol beside him seemed to be the worst person to answer them. No matter how hard Devon thought about them, he failed to answer even one question. Curiosity soon turned into frustration. Frustration at the constant riddles presenting themselves to him, frustration at his own ignorance, and frustration that things seem to be happening faster than he could keep up with. The world was changing, and he could do nothing to stop it.

He finished off his drink and rubbed the bridge of his nose. The burn of the alcohol seemed to worsen the more his annoyance grew. Glancing at the door gave Devon the sinking feeling that some of his answers were escaping farther and farther away with every second ticking down like a clock until it finally stops and the answers he seeks are gone forever.

“This is ridiculous,” he grumbled as he quickly stood up from his chair, dropped some coins on the counter and ran out the door.

The moment the door closed the bar quickly roared back to life discussing the latest gossip. Except a white-haired man in a trench coat, thick boots, and a large black hat, sipping his whisky, a sly smile spreading across his face.

“Happy birthday” he whispered and finished off his drink.

* * *

The rain had let up a little since Devon had walked to the bar, even so, water poured down, furiously splashing in his face. Using his arms to shield his head, he sprinted down the street, squinted eyes scanning the road for the silhouette he was searching for.

A drop of water dripped from a lock of his hair, down his forehead and into his left eye. Uttering a silent curse, he blinked few times to dull the mild sting of the liquid washing over his iris. He rubbed it a little with his fist and continued looking around.

Suddenly he spotted him, the tall man from the bar, silently strolling along the sidewalk.

“Hey wait up!” Devon called, picking up pace to catch up to him. The cold wet air was heavy and difficult to breath; he began to breath heavily as he got closer. The tall man paused and turned around. Panting, Devon came to a halt in front of him.

“Please forgive me for my behavior back there, I just got a little over board.” The man apologized scratching the stubble on his chin.

“That’s not why I’m here.” Devon wheezed

“Oh? Then how can I help you?” the man asked

“I need some answers” he said, catching his breath

“Well then” the man chuckled “I’ll need some questions”

“Ya, right” Devon laughed as he searched his mind for the right first question.

The man grinned, “Out to cure your ignorance are we?” Devon shot him a stern look. “Okay, okay I’ll explain.” He looked up “But first lets find some shelter”

“There’s an inn down the street, we can talk there, besides I’m hungry.” Devon said pointing towards a dark building at the end of the avenue. They quickly walked towards it to get out of the rain. The windows were lit from the fireplace. Rain was making paths down the glass in random directions.

The room was less crowded than the bar, a few wooden tables were systematically placed around the room, and fresh wallpaper lit up the dark room, giving the whole place a very comfortable atmosphere.

“There’s a good spot,” the man said pointing to a table in the back corner of the room, well out if earshot to keep from having a repeat of the bar. They walked to the counter, Devon ordered a turkey sandwich, and then they sat down at the corner table.

“Maybe I should introduce myself first. I’m Darius Ciel, and you are?”

“Devon Raquel”

“Pleasure to meet you Devon Raquel” Darius said, shaking Devon’s hand “now then, what were those questions you wanted to ask?”

Devon thought about it for a moment before asking, “What is the Tyro Specter?”