by W. J. May
“You should’ve thought twice before you stepped onto enemy territory,” he said.
“You’re good,” Sarah said, pointing at him. “Stepping on enemy territory is a nice touch. Did your producers put you up to this?”
Victor’s face hardened into grim lines. “You’re now a prisoner of war, Princess Gloria.”
She stared at his stern face and stiffened. “Look...this medieval game you’re playing is kind of cool and all. Love the costumes and the attitude, but I really need a phone. If you’re not playing some kind of joke, then this really is an emergency.”
Victor’s menacing gaze ran over her inch by inch. Stepping closer, he traced a finger down the side of her cheek.
She shoved him back. “Don’t you touch me!”
“How dare you?” he roared. “Are you not aware of who I am?”
Of course she had no idea, nor did she really care. “No. Who are you?” The situation was getting out of control. The hot guy was clearly a nutcase, and she’d come to realize that Ashton Kutcher wasn’t going to be jumping out of the bushes anytime soon, announcing that she’d been punk’d by Frank. It was time to run and let them get back to their jousting, or whatever it was they did to earn their pay from the Renaissance Fair payroll office. Especially when she saw one of the knights scanning her up and down, lingering a little too long on the skin exposed where the two upper buttons had been ripped from her shirt by a rather intrusive thorny vine. Why the heck did I let Frank have our only weapon? She scolded herself. What if these medieval jerks decide to take advantage of me out here? The thought alone sent shivers through her body. If I scream out here, who’ll even hear me? She was suddenly sickeningly reminded of every horror film she’d ever seen where stupid teenage girls wandered off alone in the wilderness, and she was none too happy to be that stupid girl. As the knights fanned out and surrounded her, her heart raced.
“Stubborn woman! You know who I am,” Victor said. “Your brother might’ve gotten away, but I’m afraid you are in our possession, whether you like it or not. It is my duty to make you pay for warning Charles and his knights about my trap.”
Mistaken identity was putting it lightly. “I don’t even have a brother,” Sarah said, “and I’m no rat.”
“More lies!” he hissed, his blue eyes blazing. “Did you really think I would fail to find you just because they dressed you up like a man in clothes that blend with the trees? Foolish, foolish girl.”
She huffed. In her line of work, she’d been called plenty of names, but she’d never been mistaken for a male. “A man? Why, because I’m wearing camouflage pants? I’m hunting a creature, not going to the opera. What’d you expect, some strapless mini-dress and stilettos?”
“Milord, with all due respect, the disguise is a rather ingenious idea, perhaps one we should replicate in the future,” the blond guy behind the knight said. “Had the princess not surrendered, we would not have seen her.”
“Surrender? Listen, you’re making a big mistake.” She suddenly remembered she’d left her pepper spray behind, and she regretted that. “I’m not a princess. I don’t know what freaky game you’re playing, but my friend’s going to call the police. And trust me when I say he has lots of connections with the FBI. They’ll be swarming the place any minute!”
Victor smiled. “Is that what you call your knights? I’m afraid we dispatched this FBI hours ago, Highness. That was how we knew they abandoned you somewhere in this forest.” He knocked the fedora off her head and hastily jerked her bunned hair to a disheveled mess. Tousles of long brown hair tumbled down the middle of her back.
“I told you not to touch me!” she yelled, drawing her hand up to slap him.
He caught her wrist. “Do not ever threaten to attack me, Princess, and you must cease with giving orders to those who have you in custody.” A fiery blue flame burned behind his eyes.
Loosening his grip, she yanked her hand away. She realized that smacking him wasn’t going to help her one tiny bit; all things considered, running sounded like a much better option. She glanced around for the best escape route, but it was no use, for she was completely surrounded. Her mind raced, terrified to think about what they might try to do to her.
Victor tugged at her holster and pulled out her radio to examine it. “What kind of magic device is this?”
“Idiot,” Sarah whispered under her breath, rolling her eyes. “It’s a radio. I know it’s not the newest Sony type, all slick and thin and whatnot, but give me a break. Pretending you don’t know what it is, is just...lame.”
Victor raised an eyebrow. “A radio, you say? Is that a weapon of some sort?”
“No. It’s for communication.” Boy, was she getting tired of this role-playing. “You know, you talk into it, and someone else’s voice comes out.”
“Witchery,” mumbled one of the knights.
Victor held up his hand to hush the murmurs of his men and then gestured for one of his men to take it. “Take this back with us.”
A tall, muscular knight walked over to her, dangling her 35mm camera. “And what is this?” He snapped the button, and a flash of light made the knights erupt in a choir of gasps and shocked whispers.
“A weapon to blind her opponent!” one knight asked, blinking as if hundreds of white spots filled his vision, like something he’d never experienced before. “Tis surely evil magic, sir!”
Sarah sighed and pointed to the digital view screen. “Magic? Seriously? Look. There are your fine knights in all their glory. I think I’ll call this shot, Deer in the Headlights.”
The man gasped. “She paints a picture of us in the blink of an eye, yet she has no paint or brushes! Surely she is of an evil ilk, milord!”
“Oh please. Give me back my camera,” Sarah hissed.
Victor’s gaze narrowed. “You are brave, captured yet still forcing demands upon those who would have you in chains.”
“Fine. You can have the dang thing. But that film belongs to me!” After all she’d been through, there was no way she was going to let her evidence go, medieval army or not.
“Film? What is this you speak of?” a knight asked. He looked at Victor, who only shook his head and shrugged.
Victor ran his hands down her pant leg; she bit her lip to keep herself from kicking him hard, knowing any kind of physical assault would only make things worse. It was one girl against a platoon of nuts, and the odds didn’t look good. She was just glad he hadn’t held a knife or a sword to her throat...yet.
“What other weapons are you hiding in your man-clothes?” Searching her pocket, the man pulled out the thermal camera and dangled it. “Your knights left you with weapons we’ve never seen. Too bad you didn’t put them to good use, Princess Gloria.”
“Yeah, you wouldn’t believe how dangerous a radio and a thermal camera are. And stop calling me ‘Princess Gloria’! My name’s Sarah.” She shook her head and raised her hands in mock defense. “Tell you what. Just keep them both. I’ve no idea what game you’re playing, and I really don’t care either. All I want is to go home—with my film.” Her heart pounded, and her palms dampened. She took a few long steps backward. “But if you won’t give me the film, I still want to get out of here. So, I wish you gentlemen all the best, and I’ll just be on my merry way now, if you don’t mind.”
“I would advise you to halt,” a knight said behind her.
Crap. Her breath caught in her throat, and the same thought played in her mind. What are these guys planning to do with me—or to me?
Victor turned to his knights. “You captured her this morning, here, in the Forest of the Guardians. Is this the same woman who escaped from you?”
“Yes, milord,” a knight said, looking slightly embarrassed. “Without a doubt, this is the same one who escaped us.”
The others nodded in agreement, some looking at the ground in shame.
A case of mistaken identity was the last thing she needed. “They’re wrong! I can assure you they’ve never seen me before.” She la
ughed. “How could they? I wasn’t even here.”
Victor scoffed. “Are you suggesting that my knights are liars, Princess?”
“No, but maybe this healer of yours should get them all some bifocals. I’m a researcher leading a major expedition. I study these creatures, uh, these Guardians, as you call them, that are running around this forest. I have been trying to prove their existence for a long time, and—”
“Prove their existence? You know full well they exist! That is exactly why you entered this forbidden place. You thought we wouldn’t follow you in, but I’d risk my life to get my hands on you. After all, you are all the leverage we need to make your stubborn father see the light.” Victor climbed up on his horse and stared down at her, casting periwinkle daggers through her. “Would you like to ride with me or one of them?” He pointed to his men. “I must warn you that my men are not as capable of keeping their hands to themselves. Has been many weeks since they have seen someone the likes of you, and men can get very lonely.”
The men exchanged glances and guffawed.
Sarah glared at them, wanting to be sick. “Well, it’s a good thing I’m wearing a chastity belt. Never leave home without it,” she said.
“I’m not here to defile you.”
She hoped he wasn’t messing with her. “That’s great to hear.”
“You shall come with me. I give you my word that your virginity, your chastity, will remain intact, milady. I cannot make the same guarantee for your life, however, for that shall depend on your father’s cooperation.”
Sarah’s heart quivered, and goosebumps traveled to the surface of her skin. “I’m not going anywhere with any of you. You’ll have to kill me first.” She swallowed hard, wondering if she’d made a mistake of offering him that option right then and there. It might not have been her brightest idea. Shifting her legs to ease the stiffness only set off her internal alarms, and with some burst of ridiculously unfounded courage, she lurched toward the forest.
A knight locked his arms around her waist and left her feet kicking above the ground. “I believe we have a wild one here, milord,” he mumbled as he handed her up to her captor.
“I heard she was quite the feisty one,” Victor said.
“Let me go!” Sarah said.
“Listen. If you cooperate, I will keep your secret.”
“What secret?”
“That your brother is alive and well. I know you’ve never met me before, but I used to know your mother. And because of that, I will keep your secret.”
Sarah flailed, trying to escape, but Victor pulled her into his strong embrace and wrapped one arm around her waist as he turned his horse. He hauled her off as if she was merely a possession, some spoil of war, in spite of her futile attempts to squirm out of his embrace. “Calm down, Princess,” he said. “You will come with me now, and if your father values your life as a father should, he shall graciously withdraw his forces from the Tastian border. If he does not, he is a fool and will be a father no longer.”
“Frank!” Sarah yelled. “Frank, if you can hear me, call the police! I’m being kidnapped by a bunch of lunatics. I know that’s what you think I am, but I’ve found somebody even crazier than me.”
“Nobody’s going to save you now.” His long dark hair tickled her cheek as he bent to whisper in her ear. “If you know what’s good for you, you will listen and obey. This is not a game, Princess. Do you understand?”
“Milord, we must be going,” said a man with a black beard. “It is not safe out here among the Guardians.”
She nodded. “It’s not a game for you either. First-degree kidnapping is a Class A-1 felony. You’ll be thrown in a hole for twenty years, and I’m sure Bubba will love this little costume of yours!” she shouted. “You let me go right now, or you’ll be the one somebody calls ‘Princess’!”
“Enough of this nonsense.” Victor’s voice turned sharp.
Nonsense? You got that right, buddy. She wondered at what point she’d fallen head-first into the Twilight Zone. “Who are you anyway?”
“Don’t play the fool. You know exactly who I am.”
“Well, I’m afraid my memory’s a little fuzzy on that.” She scratched her temple. “I think I hit my head and blacked out.” It wasn’t a lie, and she wondered for a minute if she was dreaming up the whole thing. She could think of nothing better than waking up in her bed to the aroma of a piping hot cup of coffee—or those bacon and eggs Frank had promised before he took off to God-knew-where.
“Perhaps that explains all the strange babbling,” Victor said, pulling on the reins. “But no matter. We shall take you to the healer for a look. Now, tell me, is ‘911’ some secret code, a way to beckon your armies against us?”
“Something like that,” she said, sighing again. “Anyway, please refresh my memory. Who are you?”
Victor straightened in his saddle and raised his chin a notch, the slightest glint of a smile playing in his blue eyes. “I’m King Victor Fesque II. Your father, King William Jarod, is currently my chief adversary. And now, thanks to you, I have all the leverage I need.”
Sarah was sure no one was going to believe any of it. She already got enough guff for chasing eight-foot humanoids around the woods. There was no way anyone was going to find out about this little fairytale, or she’d be labeled a crackpot for life. “Please, I’m begging you to trust me. If you let me go now, I won’t say a word to anyone—not even a peep. My reputation is at stake, and that means a lot to me as a scientist.”
“Scientist?”
“Listen, uh, Your Highness, you’re making a huge mistake. You have absolutely no leverage with me, because I’m not this person you think I am! My name’s Sarah Larker. This King Gerald or whoever you’re talking about won’t even know me.”
“In spite of your lies and your demands, Highness, it is a pleasure to finally meet you in person, Princess Gloria Jarod.”
Chapter 3
Sarah jumped when something resembling a cockroach—only much bigger and grosser—scurried over her foot. Water dripped onto the dirt floor from the craggy ceiling in an annoying and never-ending rhythm. Dark, rusty, ominous chains hung from the wall; she was glad the knights had spared her from being bound by them. A pile of bloodied, filthy rags were clumped together in the corner. She cringed, wondering if they used to be someone’s clothes. A putrid stench hung thickly in the air, but even that paled in comparison to the layers of muck covering the walls. In the opposite corner, were piles of excrement. She had to get out of this place, preferably before her next trip to the bathroom.
A breeze whipped around her shoulders. As she shivered, her skin rippled into another fit of goosebumps. Sarah would have killed for her leather coat, but it was locked in the trunk of her Jeep, along with all the other stuff that would have been useful, like her Swiss army knife and jack. She sighed and rubbed her arms with her palms, hoping the friction would infuse some warmth into her flesh. In the dim light, a giant cobweb dangled in one corner. Haven’t these people ever heard of dusting, deodorizer, or bug spray? Who in the world uses a dungeon anymore? She’d never even had a traffic ticket before, but now she was thrown into some ancient hell hole. She leaned against the stone wall and jumped when the cool, wet slime soaked through her shirt. An escape wouldn’t be happening anytime soon. Wherever she was, she doubted even Google Maps could find her. She wiped her hands across her pants and shouted, “Listen, you medieval nutcases, you’re all going to fry in the electric chair. I’ll personally invent the thing myself. The least you could do is to leave me a can of Raid.”
The pocked steel of the bars chilled her already cold hands as she wrapped her grimy fingers around the bars. How did a Bigfoot expedition with thirty researchers turn into a kidnapping? I’ve been thrown down here by some kind of King Arthur wannabe! It’s not possible...is it? She had no idea, but she was sure it all had something to do with Sabrino Cave, the same place her older sister had disappeared from ten years earlier while on a camping trip.
Sarah shook her head, sucking in a deep breath as the scene played out, those yellow eyes seared forever in her mind. She couldn’t help but wrinkle her nose at the memory of the skunk-like stench emanating from its matted brown fur. The thing chased her into the woods, but she somehow made it back to her parents. Her sister was not so lucky and had not been seen since. Nobody believed Sarah’s story, but since that fateful day on, Sarah had made it her mission to find her sister and prove to the world that what she saw that day was real.
She rubbed her temples. Is that cave some kind of mysterious portal? Her heart raced, and she couldn’t stop the flood of hope that ran through her veins, even though the whole thing sounded absurd. The thought that her sister might still be alive spurred her on, and she wished she could find a few sticks of dynamite to bust herself out of that joint.
Suddenly, a door squeaked far off to the left, followed by the sound of footsteps echoing through the corridor.
Craning her neck to catch a glimpse, she squinted through the shadows flickering from the torches hanging on the wall. A figure approached, its face obscured by the partial darkness. A guard? No...something more sinister. My captor. King Victor’s blue eyes met hers, and her breath caught in her throat. He wore the same Knights of the Round Table garb as before, with two differences: a red velvet cape trimmed with black and white fur hung close to the ground, and he topped off the ensemble with a gold crown adorned with jewels. The facets of the gems reflected the light of the torches. Showing off, is he? Sarah could have sworn he’d been out costume shopping on eBay.