by Sam Austin
Brushing her clothes free of splinters, she steps over the mess to take a look. All the little figures appear to be in the same places as the night before. Only, there’s one change. A small blue flower sits in the lowest level. The cellars.
She slides the level free of the others, careful not to disturb the upper floors. The flower sits in a room in what looks like the very centre of the palace. The cellar level isn’t furnished, so it’s hard to tell what’s there. She looks at the rooms around it, all the winding passageways carefully placed. She finds the infirmary, and the connection to the kitchens.
There’s one way to tell what’s there. Go and look.
***
She gets turned around twice before she finds her way.
Luckily, while she's not as good at navigating as Neven, the map she copied from the dollhouse is detailed. It's not long before she's in an out of the way corridor she's sure is right by the room.
An uneasy feeling settles deep into her bones. The corridor is ill-kept, but wide. It's dusty, but not covered in cobwebs. The torches while far apart work fine. It's familiar.
The torches decrease in number and brightness until she's left in darkness. She curses to herself at neglecting to bring a torch. She'd entered the cellars through way of the infirmary, and the wide brightly lit paths made her forget it wasn't like that everywhere.
A torch shines in the distance, lighting the far end of the corridor. She takes a step toward it, and stops. She's been here before. This was the corridor where she and Neven found the body of the page boy with his throat slit.
And the room. She runs through the map in her head. The room is right around here. Which means it must be the room behind the doorway the body had lain in.
Silently, she moves to the left wall, traces it with her good hand. The door is around here somewhere. This way she won't miss it.
Voices.
She freezes listening, but can't make out the words. Her fingers carry on along the rough wall, wincing when they brush along the few cobwebs. There. Her fingertips find a doorway.
It's dark, but leaning around it she sees that's not quite right. The room behind is large, and over to the far right a few torches are lit. A badly chipped doorway stands beside them, and a bright light emanates from it.
The room is filled with rubble. Here and there remains of walls suggest it had once had several rooms attached. In the middle a large stone column has broken off from the ceiling, and underneath its slumped form is...
She can't tell. Not enough light reaches it.
Eyeing the lit doorway, she scurries across the darkened room. Her eyes adjust to the low light, and they along with her fingers piece together the form. A large stone stage, and on top of it a chair carved from stone, bigger than she's ever seen.
Curiosity leads her to take in as much of the room as the low light allows. It's hard to say under all the rubble, but looking down from the stage she sees a wide space for people to gather. A throne room of some kind. Before King Robin, back when dragons roaming the kingdom meant these cellars were lived in for months at a time.
It's so different to now with King Robin and all his circles. He would never dream of sitting above everyone else, in such a grandiose throne. He respects his people too much to pretend to be so different from them.
What is she doing here? Expecting to find an answer to why Alice betrayed her father. Expecting to find proof of a cruel King. King Robin isn't cruel. He may have betrayed her father, but perhaps he truly thought was the right thing, the same way Julius had.
Who is she to question someone who kept peace in the circle for a thousand years?
Brushing dust from her knees, she turns to leave. Then stops. The voices are here again, clearer this time. Coming from the chipped doorway.
Curiosity battles with reason. What if it's someone important? What if it's the King?
Resolve settles heavy in her stomach, feeling an awful lot like anxiety. If it is the King, then what is he doing all the way down here? She owes it to her father, and her friends to find out.
Careful not to disturb rubble, she approaches the doorway, crouching behind what was once a wall. Not good enough. She can only make out a few words. 'power' 'fire.' She needs more.
Gritting her teeth, she ducks out from her cover, picking her way to the doorway. The rubble here is little more than dust. Nothing she can use to hide behind. If they come out of the room, she'll be standing here to greet them.
Staying low, she cranes her ears to listen.
Two voices. One, the reassuring calm of the King's voice. The other is older. The head druid, Mattis.
"How could we be so low on energy?"
"The destruction of the guardian stone shocked the whole system. Then there are the barbarians. I fear they're attacking the other stones. For what reason I don't know. They could have heard that some of their people got through, and don't know exactly where. Usually it would be a small matter, but not after the dragon destroyed your men in the north. Of course, we could disconnect the circle's barrier. Then we could funnel more energy into the palace walls."
"And let every barbarian in? Not to mention witches, more dragons? No. Keep the guardian stones connected. When we've dealt with the invaders, I'll send men to fix the breach."
"And then there's the cost of scanning all those people for magic."
"Which couldn't be helped. You, my friend, have more faith in human nature than I do. Magic is a weapon that in the wrong hands causes disaster. And those wrong hands could belong to a friendly face. We had to search them all. We had to know how many enemies we are surrounded by."
"I see a child. Desperate parents. No enemies."
A pause. "You are upset by this I see. Because of her?"
"I have done everything you've asked my King. My loyalty to you doesn't waver. But I am old. I tire of death. I tire of this loss. I'm tired of losing everything."
"Still we need more." A scuffling sound. Someone pacing. "A few more to complete this spell."
"Less if we used their full worth. We haven't been getting all the energy we can out of the ritual. If someone who valued them did it..."
"I had thousands of loyal men. I could always find someone in there eager enough for status, or a blessing for their children, to give up one of their own. Now I have farmers with broken families. Doubtless I will find eager men there too, but the costs of asking the wrong man is too high. This must never get out."
"Yes my King."
"You have one of yours left, don't you?"
When Mattis speaks again, his voice is cold. "I'm still too numbed from the last one I lost."
"Of course. Well a few from the cellars then. Or perhaps the infirmary. Whatever speaks to your heart."
"Yes my King."
Footsteps. Panic rushes through her as she realises they're coming in her direction. She thinks of the wall not far from her, but knows it's too late.
The King walks out of the room, followed by Mattis. She slinks as low to the ground as she can, pressing close to the wall.
The head druid with his newly stooped posture seems to see her, his sharp brown eyes going wide. Then the expression is gone, leaving her to wonder if she'd imagined it. The druid makes his way across the room, a torch in his withered hand.
The King doesn't seem in such a hurry, pausing in the doorway. If he stays here long he's bound to see her. Her heart hammers in her chest like a frightened rabbit.
"My King?"
The King looks up expectantly, then steps toward Mattis, away from Boone. Boone doesn't hesitate, slipping into the room the King had just left. Their conversation carries on outside, fading as they move further away.
"I've had a thought. There are plenty of the women who have men in the infirmaries. Such a thing would make them desperate. They may be willing to cooperate if offered a blessing for a future child, or knighthood for a husband or son."
"Have we really gone so far as to involve women in this Mattis?"
They continue to talk, but she can't make out the words. Seconds later their voices trail off into nothing.
The room is small compared to the throne room. In the middle stands a large stone fountain. It burbles happily. Around are various alcoves.
Frowning, she moves closer to the fountain. It rises in tiers of progressively smaller circles. The tiniest stands just above her head. The bottom circle is as wide across as it is tall. There's an impression of depth. It goes deeper than the stone floor, she's sure of that. Parts of it, she thinks, go deeper still.
The next circle up comes to her knees, but it's the one that comes to her chest that catches her attention. The bowl is filled with crystals. Most are clear, hard to make out against the stone. Some are pink, and a tenth are bright red.
Enough crystals to heal everyone in the infirmary, and expand their lifetimes by at least twice as long. She has to fight the urge to scoop them up, see what such power feels like. She daren't touch them in case she doesn't have the will to put all of them back. King Robin and Mattis had been worried about not having enough, so they're likely to notice if one goes missing.
What else had they said? Something about needing more power? How does a person get enough energy to shield an entire kingdom from the world? What would that take?
There definitely aren't enough teeth in the circle for that kind of magic.
Curious, she looks into one of the alcoves. It's a large space, but it's filled almost to the ceiling with objects. Most around the same size and shape. Leaning she picks up one. Rough cloth against her fingers. A shoe.
Cold spreads through her body as she takes in the mountain of similar objects. In her own boots, her feet tingle with horror, along with the fingers of her good hand. A child's shoe.
Chapter 32
Gelert is pleased to see her. He licks her from toe to head with his giant rough tongue. It's more like a cat's tongue than a dog's, and its sandpaper surface feels like it takes a few layers of skin with it.
She pushes him away, and he obeys easily enough. He stands with his head flat to the ground, sniffing her with great gales of air that make her hair go wild. His tail swings rapidly from side to side.
Wiping the foul smelling saliva from her skin, she turns to Angus, who hasn't moved from the gate. His expression is wary as he watches the dragon. His large hand doesn't move from the opening in the two gates. Ready to get back inside should the dragon turn.
"Why isn't Julius coming?"
"Needed elsewhere. The likes of knights are not at your beck and call, boy." Outwardly he seems mostly calm, but his fingers grip the ornate gate so hard his knuckles turn white. "Drust is a good man. When the golden dragon attacked it was he who led us away through the marshland. After the circle is secured he may well be one of your fellow knights."
Drust. Why did it have to be him? She's worked hard at avoiding him, and managed well until now. Her hair is shorn off, and she wears boys clothes, but she's not a fool. There's still the chance he could recognise her as the girl he'd agreed to marry. And if he does, it would lead to no other path than death.
Drust walks through the gate with the same gruff manner she remembers from that day. He eyes the dragon with less fear than she'd thought he would. His arms hold several wooden boxes. "I'll need to secure these. They're needed for the spell."
Boone does most of the work. Drust may be a big man - though not as tall as the bear-like Angus - and have some strength inherent in that size, but his pudgy figure doesn't lend itself to climbing dragons.
She uses Neven's improved harness to secure the boxes to the base of Gelert's neck. Her own harness, she fixes a little behind the dragon's giant head. There's enough distance between them that they shouldn't have to interact much.
Angus disappears, shutting both the ornate gate and its wooden twin firmly. Drust settles in his seat, not looking fazed at being on the back of a dragon. Together they wait.
The sun is still a little way from rising, and her night time travels have settled a deep weariness in her bones. She'd hoped to find Neven or Alice and talk about what she'd found, but no sooner had she settled for a quick doze, than a servant came knocking at her door.
New orders. Something to do with the spell they'd talked about. She supposes that means there are more shoes on that pile in the alcove. She'd thought she'd have more time.
A white figure appears a little way from the city gates. It's small with a vaguely human shape, the edges trail into mist. There are no eyes, but it feels like it's looking at her. She shivers.
"There." Drust yells behind her. "Get this animal in the air."
Swallowing, she does as he says. No sooner than Gelert jumps and stumbles his way into the air, than another white figure appears far away from the city, out past the golden road. "There. Gelert go there!"
It's been a difficult few days teaching Gelert to follow her directions. He's eager enough, but tends to get confused. This time however, he heads for the figure with razor-like focus. It's as if he's drawn to it.
Another figure appears behind that one, way out in the middle of one of the many fields used to grow crops. It's difficult to distract the dragon's attention from the first one, but as soon as he does, he heads to the next without difficulty.
They go on like that for a while, heading past the crops and grazing land, into the uneven terrain of the marshlands. Five or so figures line themselves up into the distance, then once they pass them, they disappear to blink into existence on the end of the line. Like children playing some kind of game.
Children. That's what they must be. The souls of the children King Robin and Mattis killed for this spell.
Finally she can't take it anymore. Turning to face the pig farmer, she has to shout to be heard over the wind. "Where are they taking us?"
"Barbarians!" He shouts back. He fiddles with the three wooden boxes, steadying them like they contain something fragile. "Can't be long now. Get this dragon flying higher."
Barbarians. It explains the extra cost. She doesn't know much about magic, but locating spells tend to be low cost. Unless what is located is far away, or she guesses, if those located had magic of their own to hide themselves. Both must be the case, or they would've tried this spell sooner.
Five white figures stand in a wide circle in the distance. They revolve around, like they're doing one of those dancing games she's seen girls play when they're young. She can almost hear the words.
"Higher beast! Higher!" Drust shouts behind her.
Right. Boone does her best to urge Gelert higher. The dragon groans. Heights are not something he likes, but if they fly in this low they'll be seen for sure. Their efforts will be for nothing. By the time they fly back and report their findings, the barbarians will have moved elsewhere.
Gelert moves higher, but not by much. The moon is a bare slit tonight. They'll have to hope the darkness will conceal them from whatever lookouts are awake this early.
Boone squints down at the darkness below, but can't see much. The moment they fly over them, the white figures blink out. All that's left is black and the vague sense of shape.
Then the ground explodes with fire.
She starts, the harness digging into her waist and legs. Without it, she might've fallen off Gelert's neck completely.
The flames below are so bright they make her eyes water. Whites and blues. Not Gelert's fire. She would've noticed if the dragon spit fire, sitting so close to his head. And his flames were yellow and red.
Another explosion. Men run screaming out of flaming shapes she thinks must have once been tents. Most of them are on fire.
Spinning around, she catches Drust throwing the last box. "What are you doing?"
"Orders!" He shouts back at her, dusting his hands off in a satisfied way. "Julius was supposed to brief you. We need to make sure none of them survive. Your dragon breathes fire, doesn't he?"
Fire runs through her, hotter than that below. The screams set her teeth on edge. There's been too much s
creaming lately. "They're dying! They've had enough!"
Throwing bombs on men while they sleep. There's no honour in that. None at all.
Drust's face seems to darken in the light of the flames. "They're like rats scurrying away from their nest. We need to get them all."
"No."
"The King said-"
"I said no!" She holds his gaze long enough to tell him she means it. Tears prick at her eyes, and not all of it is from the heat of the flames.
Eventually he gives her a slow nod. His expression is pure contempt, and something else. Something darker. "As you say. They are dying."
***
The sun is in the sky by the time she gets back to her chambers. She puts her hand on the door and stops. Voices coming from the other side, and not quiet ones.
"Because you're in love with her!"
"You're an idiot if you think that!"
Neven. And the first voice? Ness? She takes her hand from the door, wiping it down her face. It's much too early to walk in on two boys arguing about Alice.
"Then why do you always spend so much time with her? Why go on that fool quest? Admit it. The moment you found her in that marketplace you turned your back on me."
Wait. Marketplace? Not Alice.
"Because she's my friend."
"Aren't I your friend?"
"Of course. But me and you. It's complicated. You know what happened. And uh. You know. And Boone. It's different. It's easier."
Oh Gods, he's babbling. Rearranging her face into something neutral, she barges in the door. They jump apart and look around at her guiltily.
"I don't know what you're arguing about, and I don't care." The truth is she does care very much, but she can care later. "I have more important things to argue about. Like bombs."
Neven frowns. "Bombs?"
"The ones Drust dropped from Gelert today, setting fire to sleeping men who had no chance to fight back." She crosses her arms across her leather vest. "I know you better than anyone Neven, and I know what your inventions look like."
"Oh." Neven sits down suddenly on the end of her bed. The blood runs from his face, leaving it pale. "Oh. I mentioned an idea early on when I was modifying the harness, but I didn't think." He puts his head in his hands. "I didn't think."