The Endora Trilogy (The Complete Series)

by Thomas J. Prestopnik

  “What are you talking about?” King Rupert asked. He had nearly reached his boiling point.

  “All in good time,” Belthasar replied, turning to address the crowd. “I am postponing the announcement of my Great Plan.” There were groans of disappointment. “However, I will announce it tonight in the castle courtyard. With the arrival of King Rupert and his companions, I must make some changes in my plan before I make it known.” This is what everyone wanted to hear. They applauded Belthasar by stomping their feet and pounding their fists on the tables.

  “Shall I take them to the prisons?” the troll guard asked after the noise died down.

  “In a moment. First I want to ask King Rupert a simple question. Where is our leader Malaban?”

  The room fell so silent that you could hear the snapping of the torch flames. King Rupert scowled at Belthasar. “I know nothing of Malaban’s whereabouts. Your leader is of no concern to me.”

  Belthasar grew angry at the response, but let it stand. “Very well. If you claim to know nothing of Malaban’s disappearance, I will believe you–for now. But enough of this!” He signaled to the troll. “Take these intruders to the prison! I’ll deal with them later tonight in the courtyard.” The troll ordered his guards around the prisoners and had them hastily escorted out of the chamber.

  “We’re in big trouble now,” Molly whispered to the King. “What do you think they’ll do to us? And what’s this Great Plan Belthasar spoke of? I don’t like him. He looks like an ugly scarecrow.”

  “I don’t like him either. And I wish I knew what he was up to, though I’m sure it’s no good.” King Rupert sighed as they marched through a passageway. “I only hope Artemas, Christopher and Mr. Smithers are faring better than we are. They may be our last hope!”

  High up on the balcony, Christopher shuddered at the spectacle just played out before him. “We have to go after them!” he frantically whispered to Artemas. “They have my sister!”

  “I’m well aware of that. But let’s go back inside the stairwell before we discuss things further. My bones are starting to ache lying cramped up here on the floor.”

  Quietly and carefully, the trio crawled back through the door and closed it. The noisy voices of the men, trolls and goblins lessened as the gathering adjourned and they exited the meeting hall. Artemas then realized that the castle would be crawling with the enemy at any moment. He feared that their way back to the hiding place or to the prisons to make a rescue would be blocked.

  “What should we do now?” Mr. Smithers asked. “Princess Rosalind was apparently rescued with no help from us. But now she has been captured again–along with her rescuers! If we’re not careful, we’ll be next.”

  “That would be disastrous,” Artemas said.

  Christopher agreed. “The last place I want to be is stuck inside a prison cell, especially with no one left to save me.” He looked at the magician blanketed in the shadows. “Tell us what to do, Artemas.”

  “First we get back down to the main level of the castle. No use in waiting up here like frightened birds in a nest,” he said. “Then we’ll return to our hiding place by the moat if we can. Since the meeting has ended, we may have to wait there awhile until things settle down.”

  “That will give us a chance to plan a rescue,” Christopher suggested. “I hope Molly and the others are treated kindly.”

  “I hope they don’t accidentally tell the guards that there are three more of us running loose in the castle,” Mr. Smithers said. “Bad enough we have to hide like church mice. We don’t need a search party after us as well.”

  The journey down the spiral staircase proved much easier than the one going up. As Artemas approached the last two turns, he thought he detected voices near the bottom. He halted, placing a finger to his lips. Christopher and Mr. Smithers understood and stopped, keeping absolutely still as Artemas silently walked down the few remaining steps. To his surprise, waiting at the bottom were two large and vicious-looking trolls armed with wooden clubs. They were the very same trolls who had searched Malaban’s chamber earlier that morning. Artemas nearly ran into them as he rounded the last curve in the staircase.

  “Ah ha!” one of the trolls cried when spotting Artemas. “Didn’t I tell you I heard voices in Malaban’s chamber, Bolo?”

  “You were right, Nagg! Captain Urgot will reward us for capturing him!”

  But Artemas didn’t want to give them the chance. He was still a few feet from the trolls, so before they could spring at him, the magician leaped backward up a few steps and waited.

  “Seems I’m too quick for a couple of lazy trolls!” he taunted.

  “Call us lazy, will you!” Nagg seethed with anger. “Run all the way up those stairs if you want, old man, but we’ll catch you. There’s no way out from the top.”

  Artemas thought for a moment, keeping an eye on the trolls all the while. “You’re probably right,” he said loudly enough so that Christopher and Mr. Smithers could hear. They were still safely hidden in the shadows farther up the staircase. “I might as well give myself up instead of trying to escape by climbing all these stairs again. They’re too tiring.”

  Mr. Smithers was startled that Artemas seemed willing to give up so easily. Christopher assured him that the magician probably had some plan of escape in mind and told Mr. Smithers to play along.

  “Now you’re talking sense,” Nagg said. “If you give up all nice and quiet, it’ll be much easier on you.”

  “All right,” Artemas said as the trolls neared the first step. “Just tell me where you’ll take me.”

  Nagg and Bolo looked at each other and grinned. “To the dungeon, of course! What a dumb question,” Bolo said. “Where’d you think we’d take you?”

  The magician looked surprised. “Did you say–take the vial of blue liquid out of the cloth sack?” he said loudly.

  The trolls scratched their heads in confusion. They hadn’t the slightest idea what Artemas meant. But Christopher did. He untied the sack of articles from his belt that Artemas had gathered in Malaban’s chamber and opened it. Several of the glass vials of colorful liquids inside glowed softly in the darkness. Christopher fingered through them and removed a small vial half filled with a dark blue liquid.

  “What are you talking about?” Nagg complained.

  “He’s trying to confuse us!” Bolo said. “Let’s grab him before he makes a run for it.”

  “Oh, I won’t run off,” Artemas promised. “I gave you my word. I simply wanted to know where you’d be taking me.”

  “And I told you!” Bolo grumbled.

  “Did you?” Artemas asked. “I thought you said–find the vial of red liquid and carefully mix it with the blue!”

  The magician’s trickery proved too much for the trolls. “Get down those stairs now!” Nagg shouted at the top of his lungs. “Or we’ll go up there and drag you down by your collar! We’re not going to listen to your nonsense!”

  “All right! All right! I’ll do as you ask.” Slowly Artemas descended the last few steps, first one, then another, and then a third, until he was nearly within the trolls’ grasp. He lifted his foot as if to take one more step, but then turned and bolted back up the spiral staircase, leaving Nagg and Bolo sputtering at his escape.

  “After him!” Nagg cried.

  Artemas climbed twenty steps before the lumbering trolls had even begun to chase him. When he reached Christopher and Mr. Smithers farther up, he clapped his hands in joy, for Christopher had understood his deception with the trolls and combined the vials of blue and red liquid. He handed the mixture to Artemas.

  “What will that do?” Christopher asked.

  “Watch and see!” Artemas hurled the glass vial down the steps. A second or two lapsed before they heard the shattering of glass. “Quick! Back to the top of the stairs! We’ll be safe if we’re higher up.”

  The trio puffed and panted their way up the steps until Artemas deemed it safe to stop. He paused and listened below.

  “I don�
��t hear a thing,” Mr. Smithers said. “Did they stop chasing us?”

  “They did if my plan worked. Follow me.”

  They climbed down the stairs a second time until their way was blocked by the two trolls. There they were, sprawled out upon the steps, fast asleep and snoring loudly enough to wake the dead. The glass vial lay nearby in a dozen pieces.

  “Did the colorful liquids do that?” Mr. Smithers asked in amazement.

  Artemas chuckled. “I had to think quickly and a sleeping potion was all that came to mind. The initial burst from the mixture has dissipated, so we’re safe. But those two will be out for a few hours at least.”

  “Then let’s get out of here,” Christopher said. “I don’t want to look at those trolls for another second.”

  Artemas agreed and was about to open the door, then he looked at Mr. Smithers for a moment before studying the two trolls. “You’re closest to the size of the smaller troll, Mr. Smithers.”

  “Just about. So?”

  “I think I have a plan.”

  “What have I got to do with it?” he grumbled.

  “No time for questions. Just help me get a uniform off this troll. I’ll explain everything as we go along.”

  Mr. Smithers wanted an explanation then and there, but realized that each moment they remained, the worse their danger grew. So without another word, they quickly removed the troll’s uniform and slipped back out into the castle corridors. They only had to dodge one guard on the way to their hiding spot. Unfortunately, after they were back safe and secure, the guard returned, passing by their doorway every several minutes while on his patrol.

  Artemas sighed. “We may be stuck here awhile. Now that the castle is alive again, our chances of roaming freely about are diminished. I think we’ll have to wait for nightfall to attempt a rescue. By then the guard might leave. Besides, we all need some sleep.”

  Christopher missed Molly and hoped that she wasn’t frightened. “What do you think will happen tonight at that meeting Belthasar spoke of?”

  “I wish I knew,” Artemas said. “But you can bet it won’t be anything good.”

  The answer brought little comfort to Christopher. He walked to the door overlooking the moat and peered out the barred window. The mid-morning sky shone clear and bright. He felt a slight breeze on his face. But inside it was damp, dark and miserable. Christopher slumped down on the floor and recalled the night he and Molly were sitting in the museum hallway. He wished they were back there now so he could take his sister home where she belonged. A part of him regretted walking through the timedoor without thinking about it first. If only he had the power to change things. Christopher looked around his cramped quarters and leaned his head wearily against the wall. He felt just as much a prisoner here as Molly certainly did somewhere else deep inside the castle.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The Great Plan

  The minutes passed like hours as they rested. There was little to do except sit and think or look out the door across the moat, all of which soon grew tedious. At one point Christopher listened by the door at the top of the stairs and heard the guard in the hallway talking to someone about the meeting later that night. One of the men referred to another intruder, and possibly more, running loose through the castle. Christopher realized that he, Artemas and Mr. Smithers were those very intruders.

  “We’ve been discovered,” he informed the others. “No doubt a search party is combing every inch of this castle for our whereabouts.”

  “Probably,” Artemas said without much concern. He yawned and sat on the floor. “Our sleeping trolls must have awakened and reported me. But I think we’re safe. With a guard patrolling right outside our door, who would even think to search in here?”

  Christopher hoped the magician was right as he found another place to sit. He grew weary of the boredom that plagued them and felt as cooped up as a chicken in a pen. Christopher longed to run across the plains with the wind at his back, but he knew that was not possible. Thinking about it only made him feel worse. So as the hours dragged by, and seeing that there was no business yet to attend to, each one finally drifted off to sleep.

  Christopher opened his eyes to total darkness. “What’s going on?” he thought in a panic. His senses confused him, so he jumped up and looked out the window in the door. The night sky was dotted with fiery white stars. The three of them had slept through the entire day!

  Christopher tiptoed up the stairs and listened at the doorway. He heard nothing in the corridor–no talking and no steady footsteps of a patrolling guard. Christopher hoped the man had left his post. He held his breath and slowly opened the door a crack. To his relief, the passageway stood empty. He ran to wake his friends.

  “Artemas! Mr. Smithers! Get up. It’s after dark and our guard is gone.”

  Artemas stirred and grumbled, his back sore from leaning against the stone wall. “What’s all the commotion? What happened to the light?”

  “It’s night already. We slept through the day.”

  “Impossible!”

  Mr. Smithers opened his eyes and stretched. “Well, we certainly needed the rest. I don’t suppose we have any food. I could stand a proper meal about now.”

  “No time for food,” Christopher said, urging them to get up. “The guard left his post, so now’s our chance to rescue the others!”

  Artemas agreed. “I hope I remember where the prison cells are located. It’s a good thing you found that map room, Christopher, otherwise we might be searching this place for hours.”

  Mr. Smithers rubbed the whiskers on his face. “Excuse me if this sounds like a dumb remark, Artemas, but you never told us how we’re going to rescue the others. We can’t walk in the prison and politely ask the guards to release our friends.”

  “On the contrary. We will walk right in. And you, Mr. Smithers, will lead us there.”

  “Me! Why me?”

  “Because you’ll be wearing the guard uniform we took from that troll.”

  “I had nearly forgotten.” He grabbed the uniform and tried it on. The pants and shirt were made of a dark coarse material which was very uncomfortable to wear. An animal skin vest topped it off. “So how do I look?”

  “Very silly,” Christopher laughed. “But I think you’ll pass for a guard.”

  “So do I,” Artemas said. “By now my plan is obvious. We’ll walk to the prisons. If anyone stops us on the way, Mr. Smithers can say he captured us and is going to deliver us to the warden.”

  Mr. Smithers complimented the magician. “That’s very clever, but just one thing. What do we do once we get inside, assuming we ever get that far?”

  Artemas shrugged his shoulders. “At this moment, Mr. Smithers, your guess is as good as mine.” So with that bit of discouraging news, they departed.

  To their relief, they found no difficulty reaching the door that led downstairs to the prison cells. All the passageways were again deserted just as at dawn. Artemas opened the door to reveal a dimly lit stairway, the very same one where Molly, King Rupert and Ulric had heard the voices of the troll and goblin guards. All was now silent. Artemas led the others down the spiral stairs and into the guard room. There they saw the archway leading to the cells and the second doorway going into the pantry. Everything was eerily quiet.

  “The place is deserted,” Mr. Smithers whispered. “Let’s have a look around.”

  Artemas poked his head through the pantry door. “Nobody’s in here. Let’s look inside all the cells.”

  One by one, Christopher, Mr. Smithers and the magician looked inside each prison cell, only to find them cold and empty. Christopher even called out Molly’s name, but there was no answer. At the far end of the corridor, Mr. Smithers found an iron door, but it was locked.

  “I suppose we’re too late,” Mr. Smithers said as the trio walked back into the main guard room.

  Artemas began to pace, fearing that all his planning had been in vain. “If we hadn’t fallen asleep we might have arrived here in time. Our fri
ends were probably taken to Belthasar’s meeting in the courtyard.”

  Christopher’s hope sank. “We’ll never be able to rescue them from that location. Hundreds of soldiers will be gathered there like flies around garbage!”

  “Looks like we’re back where we started,” Mr. Smithers sadly acknowledged. “It was a good try though.”

  “We can’t give up yet!” Artemas said. “At least let’s go to the courtyard to see what’s happening. We may not be able to rescue them, but we can check if they’re all right. We owe them that much.”

  “If you’re not giving up,” Christopher said, “then I certainly won’t. Lead the way, Artemas!”

  So the rescuers hurried back to the main floor of the castle. Between them, they were able to determine where the courtyard was located from what they could remember on the map. Soon they heard the steadily growing clamor of human, troll and goblin voices in the distance. After turning a corner in another passage, they saw ahead of them a wide brick hallway stretching on for about twenty yards. At the far end stood two mammoth doors, both wide open, revealing the outdoor courtyard of the castle which was filled with soldiers. The chilly night air swept inside and made Christopher shiver.

  “Here we are,” Mr. Smithers said anxiously. “Now what? We can’t just walk down there and go outside.”

  “Not unless you want to be taken prisoner,” Artemas said. He glanced down to the other end of the passage. “I think I see a guard standing outside at each door. Luckily they’re paying attention to the meeting and not facing our direction.”

  “Do you think Belthasar announced his Great Plan yet?” Christopher asked. “I expect what’s great for him would be disastrous for us.”

  “I’m inclined to agree with you.” Artemas considered their options. “We have two choices. We can run back to our hiding place and hope that King Rupert and the others are taken to the prisons. Maybe we can attempt another rescue later.”