The battle outside was intense but quick. The royal guard, most unprepared and either sleeping in their bunks, or just waking up from sleeping on watch, put up little fight to the invading Lionborne. Having grown weak from malnutrition and slow with apathy, those that feared dying at the hand of the invaders more than at the hand of the king, laid down their arms and swore allegiance to Lord Frantis.
With the added numbers of the Ebony converts, the hybrid army now stormed the King’s Palace. The bolted door put up little resistance to the battering ram, and the bloodthirsty army raced inside and began to fan out through the palace, taking down anyone that raised a sword against them.
Lord Frantis and a large squad of warriors rushed the stairs and made their way straight to the large chamber the king was so proud of. Frantis had heard the of horrors that took place in that chamber.
He and his men burst open the doors, only to see King Willum sitting at his thrown, pail white under his dark beard. Without hesitation, the king jumped to his feet and dashed to the left side of the room, behind some draping curtains. Frantis and his men bolted after him. As they pushed around the curtains, they could see an open doorway leading to a dark passage, and stairs leading downward.
As they rushed to the passage, they could see the king standing there with his back to him. Ahead of the king, stopping him in his tracks, were three faces he remembered from earlier that day.
“Well, this is awkward,” I said.
Chapter 19
It didn’t seem this complicated when we started out. We only needed to take the fair Lady Rika to Edenkeep in exchange for a small fee. Then we met this wizard. And an orc with a bad attitude. And got mixed up with a sorcerer, also with a bad attitude. We found ourselves in a place one wagon-stop short of Hades, met a king that seems to live off hate, and some bad guys, that though they seemed nice and reasonable at first, now, not so much.
“Look what we have here!” Frantis said, almost sounding pleased at the reunion. If it isn’t the ogre, his friend with a big head, and… that girl I don’t know what her name is.”
“Nyssa,” I said.
“Yeah, I don’t really care. So, we find you here warning the king of our attack, do we?”
“Actually, we did no such thing…”
“He lies, kind sir!” the king spouted off. “His sole purpose for coming here was to warn of your attack. But we weren’t warned in time to make ready…”
“I am certain of it.”
“But… but… We told him tomorrow, not today!”
“Lies! Lies!”
“Silence! Drop your weapons and we will take you alive, or you will die trying to save your scrawny little necks!”
I decided not to argue that Gnath’s neck is larger than most men’s torso’s, but I thought it might be taken in the wrong context and used against me at my trial. Trial? Maybe a sentencing, but I doubt a trial.
“Drop them now! I won’t ask again!”
I looked at my friends, and together we set our weapons on the landing as several of the Lionborne men rushed in and pulled us into the large main chamber.
“So, this is where the passage comes out?”
“I said silence! Men, bind them, especially the big one. When we are done dealing with the king, we will make an example of them for all to see.”
“I don’t suppose it will be an example of how compassionate you are…?”
“I fear our friends are in danger,” Rika said, hoping the wizard could offer some reassurance that all was well.
“We must stay and hope the Spellcrafter finishes the spell, or we are all in danger of never leaving here.”
“But they may need our help. We can’t leave here without them. We can’t let them be killed.”
“It will not be much longer,” the Spellcrafter said, not looking up from his work. He poured a smoking, foul-smelling liquid from a small beaker into a crucible. “One last ingredient.”
Quint stood up, and when he did so appeared to crack every bone in his twisted back and neck. He shuffled sideways to where the gryphon talons were sitting. He lifted one of the claws in with one hand and retrieved a snipping tool out of his hip pocket. With the skill of a surgeon, he clipped the very tip of the talon then moved on to do the same to the other talons. Retrieving the clippings, he made his way back to his chair and seated himself once again.
Taking bits of the talon in each hand, the Spellcrafter read some words from his spellbook that made no sense to Rika, and she wondered if the wizard had any idea what the old man was saying. As he spoke his words, he pinched the bits of talon between his fingers and then crumbled them into dust, and letting it fall into the crucible. As it did so, blue sparks left from the vessel with a bit of a crackle, and the intense sparks left those in the room seeing spots for a moment.
He then poured the bubbling bluish liquid into a small vial and corked it. “Careful, it’s hot,” he said, handing the vial to the wizard. He stood up and turned to the cabinet behind him. Reaching into one of the many pigeonholes in the fixture, he retrieved a scroll and blew the dust off it.
“This is the portal scroll. You will need to take the potion before sunset tomorrow. No later or the potion will not work. Then you will be able to use the scroll to open a portal to get you back to your home. Use it in a place closest to where you first entered this world if you want to have an idea where you will be when you get back. If you are not careful, you could end up returning to an angry sea or in the middle of a volcano or some other terrible place. Before sunset tomorrow. No later. And one more thing. Once you take the potion, you will be able to use magic here in Devigon, but only for a short while. It is uncertain how long, but do not take it unless you are ready to go back to Neverwind.”
“Thank you, great Spellcrafter.”
“No thanks necessary. You have provided me with enough talon to work some very powerful spells. Now, you should leave. I believe your friends need assistance.”
“We could sure use some assistance right about now,” I said, hanging by my hands from two chains fixed to a dungeon wall, my feet dangling inches from the cold, stone floor.
I looked around our cell. The stone walls rose high above our heads before arching over to create a rough stone ceiling. The walls were finished smooth, but it seemed that those doing the construction lost interest in aesthetics when they got to the vault over our heads. A thick, wooden door with rusty iron hinges and bolts blocked the only exit, and a small window towards with three wrought iron bars let in little light from the dim, starry sky outside. A cold mist made its way in from the outside, giving us a hint of the chill that the night would bring. A lone torch casting eerie, flickering shadows about the chamber.
Poor Gnath, they took no chances with him. Not only were his hands chained to the wall like mine, he was also fitted with a thick, iron collar the king happened to have lying around the old dungeon, and strung up against a wall so tightly he was forced to stand on his tip-toes to keep from choking. Nyssa was strung up like me, though her feet were touching the ground.
“I don’t think even your great wizard can help us now. He doesn’t seem to be that powerful. Certainly not what I would consider the Defeater of Dragons.”
“While I can’t vouch for his power, I don’t think he was lying about having defeated the dragons.”
“You’re pretty gullible, aren’t you?” Nyssa said with a sneer. “Did he tell you he was over two-hundred years old too? Because he would have to be to have been here when the dragons were around.”
“Well, yes. He did.”
“You’re not the smartest member of the elven race, are you? What are you, half human? For having a head that large, how can you be so dumb?”
“Last I checked, you’re in here too. Attacking me and my disproportionately sized head isn’t going to help anything.”
Nyssa sighed. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m only a bit frustrated.”
“Gnath, you okay? You look very uncomfortable.”
“Yef. Uncomf,” he grunted. He tried to shift on his toes, but I knew the arches of his feet, and the calves of his legs must be getting very tired by now. The look on his face was that of strained determination, with a touch of sadness.
The sounds of screams elsewhere in the dungeon sent chills down my spine. I guessed that Frantis was having his fun with the King, and that we might be next. I could almost picture in my mind images of bones breaking, fingernails being removed, or tongues being cut out. The thought of hot irons to flesh made me shudder, and I imagined what it might smell like – to smell your own flesh burning. I looked up again at my friend, and I could tell by the look on his face he had similar fears. The screams continued and only made the visions in my mind clearer, more terrifying.
“Don’t worry, my friend. Arick will figure something out. He will get us out of here,” I said, trying to comfort my friend. The look on his face told me it wasn’t working.
Chapter 20
“You must go now. Find your friends and make your way to where you entered this world. I must gather my most important things and make a hasty, albeit cowardly retreat myself. It’s time I stopped serving tyrants. I am getting too old for this.”
The Spellcrafter picked up a satchel and placed several tomes into it, including his spellbook. Then he carefully picked a few of the vials of who-knows-what and slid them inside as well. He sealed his pack, looked back up at the wizard, and reached out a hand. Arick accepted the gesture and shook the old Spellcrafter’s hand slowly but firmly.
“Where will you go, old man?”
“I do not know. Wherever the river of magic flows best, my friend. Go now, defeat the dragon. Say goodbye to your friends for me. If they are still alive, they are likely in the dungeon. You can get there by taking the right passage before the stairs leading up to the king’s main chamber.”
“Thank you, Spellcrafter. Good luck to you.”
The wizard and Rika turned and slowly made their way out the door into the passage. The wizard stopped to look back one more time at the Spellcrafter before continuing onward, but Quint was no longer in the room. Puzzled, Arick looked around the room, but there was no sign of the Spellcrafter. The wizard chuckled at the smoothness of the old man’s exit. Even wizards get amazed by well-spun magic. Neither Arick nor Rika noticed a mole scurrying along the floor, making its way to a small hole in the wall behind the table.
“Safe travels,” Quint, now a mole, wished of her new friends quietly to himself as the dim light of the room faded behind him.
The screams in the distance subsided and were replaced by pathetic sobs. Echoing through the subterranean passages came the cries of Why don’t you just kill me? between cries of anguish. The poor man must be hurting very badly, and I could only wonder what might be in store for us.
The sound of multiple footfalls coming down the outside passage did nothing to ease my anxiety about the situation. Nyssa seemed cool as ever, but I could see Gnath showing his unease at the possibility of what was to come.
Whoever made the footsteps stopped outside the door to our chamber. I could see the dim light from their torches outside the door through the crack underneath, and the window above.
“Open it,” a voice from outside ordered, and the sound of keys being rattled, and the ensuing insertion into the lock came next. With a clank that seemed to shake the very air around me, the bolt came open, and the door creaked into the room.
Lord Frantis stood there looking at us like a hunter might gawk over his trophies. He pursed his lips and nodded his head in satisfaction. An evil smile grew as he contemplated what he would do to us, I imagined.
“Good to see you again, Lord Frantis,” I said, hoping to break the tension.
He chuckled. “Is it now? Do you think this is good, that we meet again?”
Lacking any idea for a comeback that might actually lighten the mood and not get us tortured longer, I decided to hang my head and hope for a miracle.
“Traitors do not get mercy in my kingdom. Had you joined with us you would be feasting above on the bounty that the King had hoarded. Tables and tables of food, more than the King could ever hope to eat in a lifetime, all waiting for someone to come and share it with the people.”
“Meat on a stick?” Gnath asked, sheepishly.
Lord Frantis stopped and looked at my pathetically naive big friend. Then he slowly walked in front of him and grinned as he looked up into his face.
“No, no meat on a stick. Meat on spears! Tables and tables of meat, roasted to perfection!”
“Aaaaah…,” Gnath moaned, hanging his head sadly.
“And you will have none of it. I should parade you up and down the aisles of food so that you can see how badly you have wronged yourselves. But I think the rack, and other things, will suffice. In fact, the rack might do your short friend good,” he said, pointing his thumb over his shoulder at me. “Might make him tall enough to look you straight in the eye. Unfortunately, you, my big ogre friend, are too big for the rack, so I am thinking hot pokers, a little branding maybe? Maybe I will write Dumb Ogre on your forehead for all to see?”
Gnath began to come out of his self-pity funk, and I could see his adrenaline pumping. He tugged against his chains, and the more he did so, the more it amused Lord Frantis.
“Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?” I said, not totally thinking it through.
“Well, the mouse hath roared! I think I will let these other two savor your screams for mercy first. I will deal with them later. Guards, take the little one.”
Two guards walked over and began to unchain my hands from the wall. Though I struggled against them, I was far too puny to put up any kind of a fight.
“Can’t we talk about this?”
“Sure, we will talk while you are resting comfortably on the wonderful rack the king has provided.”
Gnath fought hard against his restraints, but to no avail. They muscled me out of the room as Nyssa called out, “Why don’t you take me, or are you scared?”
“You’re next, my lady. You’re next.” Then the door shut behind us and the bolt locked once again. The barrier between me and my friends could not be clearer in my mind. And I was off for some skeletal reconstruction. There’s never a wizard around when you need one.
“I’d give anything to be able to blend in with the walls and disappear.”
“And I would love to be able to cast a simple fireball or shock spell, but we will have to rely on stealth,” the wizard said to Rika as they quietly made their way down the passages to what they hoped would be the dungeon. The screams they had heard earlier had died away, and the sounds of sobbing and moans of pain could be heard over the distant clanking of doors and footsteps in the distant passages. The dim, sparse torchlight of the passages did little to improve the dark atmosphere of the subterranean setting.
“I hear someone coming this way. Get into the shadows!” the wizard said, pressing Rika and himself into a shallow alcove. They watched as the sound came closer. Then, in the distance down the passage, they could see for a brief instant the guards and Lord Frantis drag me into the torture room.
“We have to do something,” Rika whispered.
“I agree, but we need to find the others first. We will need numbers on our side.”
“Well, big guy. Here we are.”
Gnath replied with as much as a growl, fighting against his chains, while still trying to stay on his toes to keep from choking against his collar.
“Not much for small talk, are you?”
“Friend.”
“I know, you’re worried about your friend. I am too. I have to believe the wizard and that girl—”
“Ri-ka.”
“Yes, Rika… they must be looking for us right now.”
And with that, the bolt on the door opened, and once again the door creaked open. To their great joy, before them stood Arick the wizard and lady Rika.
“What have you gone and done to yourselves?” Arick
asked.
“Well, you know… stuff.”
“Well, we found them,” Rika said. “Now what?”
“I don’t know. I don’t have any ability to pick locks. You?”
“No.”
“Then we are no better off,” Nyssa said, pulling at her chains.
It was then that the miracle they all were hoping for happened. Above, a light caught their attention. Actually, many lights; a swarm of lights.
“Pixets!” Rika exclaimed.
But then the screaming started again. This time, they recognized the voice. There was no mistaking. They all knew it was my voice they were hearing.
Chapter 21
The screaming was so intense it hurt my ears, and it made it worse when I realized it was me doing the screaming. Lord Frantis was not kidding about putting me on the rack, and he’d hardly started when the pain became more intense than I could bear. I could feel my shoulders begin to separate at the sockets, my hips, knees, and back stretched beyond any level of comfort. It concerned me that there were fresh bloodstains on the rack, a clue that the last person to have the pleasure… had little pleasure.
Again, with the screaming! My host stood there smiling at me, his big, toothy mouth with yellow rotting teeth still had bits of leftover meat from a spear still wedged between the few teeth he had left. I started to laugh, though it was short-lived. Another click on the ratchet wheel made me grow another inch taller and added a few more levels to the volume of my pain, and my screams. I remember hearing one more click before I passed out.
Three warriors entered the room. One of them stepped forward. “My Lord, the citizens are outside the castle, asking to come in and praise their new leader. We were hoping you could address them yourself.”
Lord Frantis let out a sigh. Oh yeah, I am the good king now. “Let me know when he wakes back up again. Do nothing until I return. You three, I want you to walk these passages and make sure none of the King's soldiers are still lurking around.”
The Dragons of Neverwind Page 11