The Dragon and Rose

by Gerhard Gehrke

  The door closed and locked. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Footsteps clomped away down the hall. He was once again locked in. Unlike most flimsy doors, this one was solid and wouldn’t break down easily. The small eyebrow window would be difficult to reach and he guessed there was a significant drop down the high back side of the main castle building. And while he didn’t feel like exercising, he wanted a larger room, a weapon, and a better chance of fighting his way out of the place if the situation changed.

  But for now he had little choice but to wait.

  He reclined on the bed and did his best to stop his mind from churning over the details of the past days and nights. Thought about Marcus and his squad mates. Then his mind drifted to how he had once again gotten himself enmeshed with Diregloom’s unhinged ruler.

  A KNOCK CAME AT THE door. He hadn’t heard anyone approach.

  “Digger?” Isabel whispered.

  He got up and went to the door. “Yeah. I’m here. You have a key?”

  “I’m not here to let you out.”

  “Okay. What’s going on?”

  “I’m leaving. Jamie’s watching your brother.”

  “You can’t go. You’re supposed to keep an eye on him.”

  “He’s not my job. I have others to care for.”

  “Others? What others? Who do you have hidden in that basement of yours? Let them take care of themselves.”

  “It’s something I have to do and that’s all you need to know. It’s my responsibility just like Monty’s yours. And right now you have to trust Jamie to keep him safe.”

  He shook the door and worked the latch as if expecting it to have been unlocked. “Pick the lock. I’ve seen you do it.”

  “No. And don’t cause trouble. I’ll be back later.”

  He threw his weight against the door and caused the wood to shudder. “Isabel? Hey!”

  She didn’t answer. When he pressed an ear to the door, he heard the softest footsteps retreating. He kicked the door for good measure before returning to the bed. Contemplated breaking it to pieces and using the footboard as a battering ram.

  But then what?

  The queen wanted him there. If he escaped, her guards would fight to capture him. Even if he did make it out, it would leave Monty trapped inside the castle.

  The queen hadn’t hesitated to throw Monty into the games last time, even though his brother was no fighter. If Digger left, he had a hard time believing she wouldn’t retaliate and place Monty into whatever new contest she had brewing. They had all been lucky the last time. And now with Isabel’s departure, saving Monty’s life was all on his shoulders.

  As usual.

  NOT LONG AFTER, THE guards approached the bedroom. The corporal opened the door and motioned for Digger to follow. He expected them to ask about Isabel and was ready to tell them nothing.

  “I was hoping you’d bring me lunch,” Digger said. “Tell the chef some prosciutto and melon would be splendid. But nothing with uncooked onions, because, you know...”

  “Get up, wise-ass.”

  Digger rose from the bed. In the hallway he counted six of the queen’s soldiers.

  They led him to a short stairway down and past small windows where he could see the sky beyond the ocean-side wall of the castle. They emerged into a back foyer and entered a room with a polished wooden floor. A façade with arched windows overlooked the terraced gardens below. Unlike the rest of the castle the gardens appeared to have fallen into neglect and were overgrown. Stacks of chairs lined one wall of the room and mirrors were mounted everywhere.

  Three dress dummies had been placed in the center of the room.

  The corporal stepped aside. “You want to practice? Here you go.”

  Digger walked the length of the room. Took in the view. Then he inspected the dummies. They were flimsy.

  “What do you want me to do with these?”

  Another guard handed him a quarterstaff made of dense wood with a cloth wrapping wound around either end.

  The corporal clicked his tongue. “Stick it up your backside for all I care. Don’t try to go outside or you’ll be shot down.”

  He tested the heft of the staff. “Got anything with an edge?”

  The guards marched out and left him alone.

  Digger whooshed the staff through the air a few times and paced about. He had gotten some rest and had been fed. He wasn’t used to fighting with a big stick but instantly realized its potential when he swung it by one end and knocked a dummy down.

  His head was feeling better and his cut hand was freshly bandaged. So he went through a few drills he’d thought forgotten. Sword and spear moves mostly, but he concentrated on footing and balance and not overextending himself and leaving himself vulnerable to counterattack. With each strike he gave a forced exhalation of breath. Felt the kinks in his muscles loosen even as his shoulder continued to nag.

  Soon the other two dummies were down, and he set them back up and started again.

  He was working up a sweat when he noticed one of the windows had an outside stairway leading past. A few green faces were staring in. When he went over to see them better they hurried away and went down into the garden. Several gardeners were clearing thick grasses from a dry fountain. Others were setting down new stepping-stones. It appeared this neglected place was getting some care. Something about the garden reminded him of the graveyard.

  His kind, doing the work, keeping the place running, cleaning the messes.

  Leaving the window, Digger once again set his dummies back up. He walked around them for a moment before attacking them, sending them sprawling in every direction.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  ROCHUS STOOD WAITING at the dance room door along with the guards. “Put these manacles on.”

  Digger set the quarterstaff aside and did as he was told. The steel bracelets were cold and tight. “I thought the games were tomorrow night.”

  “They are. Lady Claudia needs you for something.”

  He was led out of the castle to a waiting carriage. The late afternoon sun was dipping below a bank of white clouds. Digger was helped inside and Rochus climbed in after. The guards clung to the outside of the carriage. Rochus rapped his knuckles on the door and the driver got them rolling.

  “Where’s my brother?”

  “Last I saw, he was schooling one of the chefs on how to make a bone broth. Now there are a few things we need to go over—”

  “Who’s watching him?”

  “Lord Jamie is around. I’ve also assigned one of the household guards. This theater—”

  “Just one? Is he any good?”

  Rochus sighed. “One of our best, actually. Now if you’ll listen—”

  “No, you listen. I’m cooperating. But if anything happens to my brother, either a kitchen accident or an assassin’s blade or the queen decides to get cute and somehow inserts him into whatever madness she has planned, I’m going to make sure you meet the sharp end of a long blade.”

  “Yes, yes. You’re going to make us all suffer. Don’t worry, your brother is—”

  Digger leaned forward, grabbed Rochus, and slammed his face into the wall of the carriage. When Rochus pawed at him, he bashed his head a second time and a third. The carriage began to slow. Rochus groaned. His nose was bleeding.

  Digger took him by his hair and pulled him close. “I’m not talking about the queen or anyone else. I’m talking about you. I’m holding you personally responsible. The queen and everything she does wouldn’t be possible but for fel like you working for her. I’ll find a way to slip my chains and will show up wherever you decide to hide. There isn’t a tower in that castle where I won’t find you. Whatever happens to me, Monty stays safe. Let me hear you say it.”

  Rochus nodded.

  “What’s going on in there?” a guard called through the door.

  Digger shook the steward. “Ignore him. Say it out loud. Use one of your big words.”

  “You have my promise,” Rochus said. �
�Now let me go or they’ll cut you down.”

  Digger gave him a shove and sat back on his seat.

  Rochus rapped on the door. “Get us going.”

  The carriage rocked as it passed through the outer castle gate. Digger gave the steward a hard stare. Rochus was pressing a handkerchief against his leaking nose and wincing. Tears streamed from his eyes.

  “So what do you want me to do?” Digger asked.

  When Rochus spoke, his voice was thick. “We’re going to the theater where the games will be held. The organizer wants to see all the contestants. It’s time they got sight of you. Queen Claudia wants to build anticipation for the event.”

  “She’s not afraid of me escaping?”

  “It seems we all have an understanding.”

  “I guess we do. So tell me what you know about this theater.”

  RED EYE’S NEW SET OF thugs in front of the Palace Theater looked like every gangster Digger had seen in the city, with dark clothes and tough expressions. He had buried his share of them. As was the norm for this brand of bully, they looked ready to rabbit at the sight of the squad of guards who climbed off the carriage.

  Digger let himself out and examined one of the fresh bills posted near the door.

  Monsters Wanted, it read.

  “Checking in,” he said to one of the doormen.

  A group was gathered in front of the stage and speaking in whispers. More than one was scribbling on a clipboard. Up on the stage were two fel, one male, one female, both muscular.

  An attendant came after Digger, a woman who at first looked like Queen Claudia except for her clothes and the day’s worth of stubble. Her billowy frock was a drab shadow of Claudia’s splendid gowns.

  The mock queen scowled. “Those chains on your hands...”

  “They’re to keep me from cutting loose early. Tell them I’m here.”

  “You’re expected? This is the last of the sign-ups.”

  Rochus entered in behind Digger. “Let it be known Queen Claudia’s catacomb champion is here. He’s to fight in tomorrow night’s event.”

  “I don’t know if we can accept him. The rounds are being set right now.”

  “You’d deny the lady of the island?”

  The mock queen looked over at the others in the theater. “Red Eye? You’re needed.”

  Red Eye broke away from the group and circled Digger, appraising him as if he were a horse about to be put up for auction. He tilted his small hat back before turning to Rochus.

  “So, steward, the queen’s taken an interest in my little show?”

  Rochus dabbed his nose. “The queen likes her sport, as you well know. You wouldn’t want to let her down by refusing the admission.”

  Red Eye squeezed one of Digger’s biceps. “Refuse? Quite the contrary. He was in here before and threw quite the tantrum. But I also heard that he can be a handful. Killed his share of purebloods and beat the queen’s games without breaking a sweat. Perhaps our venue is too humble for a hellion of his stature.”

  Digger kept his composure as Red Eye stared at him. “Imagine what I can do if you give me a real weapon. What’s the rules of your game, or is this going to be another surprise?”

  “He speaks! Okay, Rochus, I’ll consider him.” He took Digger by the elbow. “Why don’t you join me up onstage with the other monsters? I’ll give you a rundown. And unlike the queen, we pay our participants just for showing up. Remittance to next of kin guaranteed. Are these manacles necessary?”

  “We thought it best for everyone’s safety,” Rochus said. “He is in the queen’s care and will remain there until the game tomorrow.”

  “A prisoner, then. So what fresh misdemeanor did you commit?”

  Digger held the manacles out to one of the guards. “Violence against a pureblood.”

  “Repeat offender, I hear. One might reach the conclusion you have an appetite for such things. Well, you’ve come to the right place. Come up onstage. Boys, get a look at the queen’s champion. Time to reset the odds and put the word out. We have a show to plan.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  DIGGER SIZED UP THE other two fel onstage next to him. He was larger than both but didn’t want to judge either of them without knowing what they were capable of. And without knowing the rules, he had no clue whether they would be fighting against or alongside one another.

  A trunk containing painted wooden weapons stood open near a practice dummy.

  One of Red Eye’s men called to one of the fel. “Pick up a blade. Show us something on that dummy.”

  The fel swished the sword about as if it were a wet towel. He battered the dummy a few times. No attention to balance, his grip sloppy.

  “All right. We’ve seen enough. Next?”

  The second contestant did little better but showed more zeal when she punted the dummy over and began to kick it, receiving a burst of laughter from those watching.

  “Okay, champion. Your turn.”

  Digger sifted through the trunk. None of the weapons would even make a decent club, being fashioned from scraps of cut wood. He selected a silver-painted “sword” and tested its heft. Then he broke it in two and threw the pieces to the stage floor.

  “If this is all going to be an act, then fine, I’ll play along. But if you’re sending armed men against us, you’ll have to do better than this.”

  Red Eye laughed. “Seems you didn’t have any trouble in the catacombs with what the queen gave you.”

  “Is that what the plan is? Copy her games by handicapping us with this garbage?” He kicked the trunk over. Among the wooden weapons was an arm-length metal pole. It was heavy and solid. He considered the dummy and gave it a poke before flinging the pole aside.

  “I guess we’ll set our wagers based on your reputation. But don’t you worry, our game tomorrow night will give everyone a fighting chance.”

  Rochus had been waiting at the back of the auditorium. “You’ve seen our champion. It’s time for us to get him back to the castle so he’ll be rested.”

  “Not so fast,” Red Eye said. “I need to hear the champion say that he’ll play tomorrow.”

  “Queen Claudia has entered him.”

  “It’s the fel who’s fighting, so let him speak. Queen Claudia’s free to enter the games herself if she wants.”

  The mock queen tittered and a few of the men around Red Eye were grinning. Then everyone’s attention was on Digger.

  “So what’ll it be?” Red Eye prompted.

  “Put me down on your list. But just in case I want to make some wagers, who else do we have fighting?”

  “We’ve got one side of the ticket full. You and those two, three other fel, and the winner from the Wednesday night match. The challengers we’ll pick from the crowd.”

  Digger looked at the two with him onstage. “Seems like my money needs to be on the purebloods. Who’s this winner from Wednesday?”

  “You haven’t heard? We have a special contestant who might even give you a run for your money. Bigger than you, knows how to swing a weapon. In fact, I’m starting to think we might have to reimagine our lineup so as not to squander this opportunity.”

  Digger felt his stomach sink. “Who’s this special contestant?”

  “Why, we have an ogre fighting with us tomorrow, and not some junk-trawler drudge. It’s sure to be a match worthy of the queen herself.”

  So Hellard had fought. And according to Red Eye, he was going to return for the Friday night match. But were they to be fighting side by side or against each other? Digger couldn’t assume anything. He knew that he had to get word to Hellard to withdraw from the contest.

  “So where is this ogre? I’d like to meet him.”

  Red Eye waved a finger. “Oh, no. No spoilers for any of our challengers. That would be cheating. But rest assured we’ve spared no efforts in ensuring our ogre’s return. I’m sure Lady Claudia will do the same with you.”

  Two of the castle guards came up on the stage. They again attached manacles to Digg
er’s wrists and escorted him out of the theater and back to the waiting carriage.

  Rochus joined him a moment later.

  “Take me by the Dragon and Rose,” Digger said.

  “This isn’t a taxi service. We’re returning to the castle.”

  “You want me to fight? Then you need to keep me happy. I need five minutes at the bar.”

  “And your request is denied. This isn’t the only place where we require you and the queen keeps a tight schedule.”

  Digger considered striking the steward again. But as satisfying as that might be, Rochus wasn’t going to give in to the request and beating him up would only raise the guards’ ire.

  “What else do you want me to do? This wasn’t part of the deal.”

  “The deal is for you to keep the queen happy. Today she’s going to be holding a banquet for some of her closest friends. You’re to be shown off there. So save your strength. Because dealing with the upper crust of Loom Island and the queen’s courtiers might be worse than any ogre you’ll have to face.”

  Despite the growing bruises on the steward’s face, Digger made out the slightest smile. At that moment he knew Rochus was having a private laugh at his expense.

  He tried to catch glimpses of the streets as they rode back across the city towards the castle. Marcus was out there somewhere. The city watch had little chance of catching him, and if they did, how many of their number would fall before they could bring Marcus down?

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  THIRTY NOBLES DRESSED in fancy suits and frilly gowns crowded into Digger’s downstairs practice room. They held glasses of pink wine and gawked at him. A screen of guards had preceded them and appeared ready to pounce if Digger made any sudden moves.

  He considered it.