The Endora Trilogy (The Complete Series)

by Thomas J. Prestopnik

  “There’s nothing to discuss,” Jeremiah said, taking a step closer.

  Morgus flinched. He rubbed his face with one hand as if thinking deep thoughts. “My dear prince, I had hoped to assume control of your castle with no mayhem and messiness. My plan is a simple one this time. Neat, clean and best of all–no trolls and goblins required. Why resist and allow chaos inside your borders? Resign yourself to my inevitable rule.”

  Christopher glared with contempt. “Take your best shot, Belthasar!”

  “Hardly a fair fight,” Morgus said, unsheathing his sword as his companions stood behind him. “Four of us against two of you?”

  Princess Rosalind bounded over to one wall and quickly removed two of the other torches that Christopher had lit. She handed one to Molly and the pair took their places beside Christopher and Jeremiah.

  “It’s an even match now,” she said. “Neither your swords nor your twisted words frighten us.”

  “Oh no, princess? Then maybe this will,” Morgus said. “I wasn’t entirely honest about not involving trolls and goblins in my plan. Yes, they’re irksome creatures to deal with, but they get the job done when properly motivated.”

  “What are you insinuating?” Rosalind replied, trying not to sound interested.

  Morgus gazed at his grinning reflection upon his sword and tapped the point with the tip of a finger. “Sharp. Quite sharp, Princess Rosalind. And deadly. Now imagine a legion of trolls and goblins armed with such dangerous weapons. Think what they could do if commanded by a shrewd and fearless leader such as myself.”

  Christopher feigned an exaggerated yawn. “Get to the point, Belthasar, before you bore us to death! You won’t need any swords to do that.”

  Rosalind and Jeremiah chuckled at Christopher’s remark, but Morgus Vandar’s eyes blazed with irritation and loathing. He wildly brandished his sword in the air.

  “Don’t provoke me, young man, because you do not understand who you’re dealing with! None of you do.”

  “On the contrary,” Jeremiah stated matter-of-factly. “We know your type only too well. You’re an angry, sorry-excuse-of-a-man who knows how to achieve things only by force and deceit. Without a sword or an army of trolls behind you, you’re just a contemptible pile of skin and bones. You’re simply too bitter and lazy to achieve anything worthwhile by the sweat of your brow.”

  Morgus Vandar breathed heavily, a malicious sneer plastered upon his face. “You have no idea the power I wield,” he muttered. “And you call me lazy? Then so be it! But this man’s laziness will take the crown of Solárin, and at the same instant, launch an invasion of Endora to claim those lands as his own.” He puffed up his chest and smiled wickedly when he saw a mix of fear and terror shroud Rosalind’s face. Jeremiah held her hand.

  “You lie,” she said, though her words lacked conviction.

  “I see in your eyes, Princess Rosalind, that you know I speak the truth,” he softly said. “The preparations are nearly complete, but as soon as I am crowned King, I will launch a troll and goblin assault upon King Rupert’s castle and take it like a spider seizing a fly in its web. And the best part is that your father will be attending my coronation, totally oblivious to what will happen in his own land. I shall be delighted to inform him, however, when I address my adoring subjects as their new leader.”

  Princess Rosalind gritted her teeth and prepared to lunge at Morgus with the fiery torch. Jeremiah grabbed her arm and held her back to prevent a possibly deadly skirmish.

  “Let go of me!” she protested. “I won’t let him attack my father’s kingdom.”

  “Neither will I, my love. Neither will I.” Jeremiah looked into her eyes and whispered. “We are in this together, Rosalind. We will fight as one.”

  She took a deep breath and nodded. “Of course we will, Jeremiah.”

  “We’re part of the team too,” Christopher added as he and Molly flanked them on either side, holding their torches aloft.

  “I promise that both our kingdoms will remain free and at peace, Rosalind. I give you my word.”

  “And I will not doubt your words, Jeremiah. They are the words of a true King.”

  Prince Jeremiah lightly touched her cheek. “But you must promise me one thing in return, Rosalind. You must give me your word.”

  “Anything, Jeremiah,” she said, slightly perplexed. “You need only name it.”

  Jeremiah tried to smile before he leaned over and whispered into Rosalind’s ear. The softness of her hair upon his cheek made him recall pleasant times they had spent together, and this bolstered his courage to utter the words he knew he must say. As he softly spoke, the fiery determination in Rosalind’s eyes cooled to a gray horror. She pulled away in fear.

  “You have to promise me this.”

  “I cannot!” Rosalind said. “I– I must not!”

  Jeremiah held her trembling hand. “If you truly love me, I ask you to give me your word. There may be no other way, Rosalind. For the good of our kingdoms.”

  “But, Jeremiah, I–”

  He placed a finger to her lips, his eyes pleading for her cooperation. Jeremiah hated himself for making such a request of the woman he loved, but he felt he had no choice. Time seemed to stand still as he waited for her reply, then slowly Rosalind nodded her head.

  “I promise,” she softly said, her eyes welling up with tears. “I give you my word.”

  “That is all I needed to hear,” Jeremiah replied with gratitude, feeling as if a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

  Morgus Vandar impatiently tapped his sword on the brick floor. The dull metallic clanking captured everyone’s attention. “Well, this is all very touching, these promises of undying love, or whatever is it you two are whispering about. But I have important work to accomplish before the night is over, so we must end this standoff here and now.”

  “What would you know of love?” Rosalind replied. “Your heart is probably as dead as the frozen ground in winter.”

  “Assuming he has a heart,” Molly quipped.

  Morgus glared at Molly as he sheathed his sword and then glanced around the room. He walked over to one of the nearby torches still affixed to the wall. Several moths fluttered erratically above the flame.

  “I grow weary of these games, so I will end this now!” he said coldly.

  Morgus slowly raised a hand and placed it within the cloud of moths hovering above the flickering flame. Their wing shadows danced upon the wall in circles and arcs. As the others curiously watched, Morgus suddenly took a few awkward steps as if dizzy before stumbling backward into the other men. One caught him before he fell.

  “I’m all right,” he muttered, holding a hand to his forehead. “I’m– I’m all right.”

  Though still Morgus Vandar, he now appeared and sounded somewhat different to the others. They couldn’t pinpoint the precise change, but the man before them looked like a completely different individual from the one they had spoken to just moments ago. Only when seeing the life in his eyes suddenly return–the clarity, the sharp color–did they finally realize the horrible truth.

  Molly gasped and pointed at the torch on the wall. “The moths! Belthasar’s spirit is in one of the moths!”

  “Get them!” Christopher shouted, storming across the room with a torch.

  He swung it wildly like a baseball bat, scaring the moths and scattering them throughout the room. Molly, Rosalind and Jeremiah joined Christopher, chasing the moths and trying to whack them out of the air with torches or a wave of their hands. The three men accompanying Morgus Vandar looked on incredulously, not fully comprehending what the others were doing. Morgus scowled at his men.

  “Get them!” he furiously cried.

  Two of the men rushed headlong at Christopher and Molly, their swords flashing in the firelight. When they trapped the pair in one corner of the room behind the tips of their weapons, Christopher and Molly reluctantly dropped their torches in defeat. The third man charged at Rosalind, but she dodged his advance a
nd held him back with another torch as Jeremiah slapped at the air behind her, attempting to bring down the moths.

  “Hurry!” she said, craning her neck from time to time to check his progress as she thrust the torch to keep her attacker at bay. “Destroy them all!”

  “Not as easy as it looks,” Jeremiah grumbled, jumping into the air to swat at one of the moths. He missed.

  “If you don’t want any harm to come to the children, surrender now!” Morgus said, calling off the man who challenged Rosalind. He stepped away and helped guard Christopher and Molly.

  “You’re as much a monster as Belthasar,” Rosalind angrily replied. “If you dare harm even one hair on their heads, you will have me to deal with! I will hunt you down like a beast until my last breath.” She breathed heavily, her face a shade of scarlet. “And Jeremiah will bring the full wrath of his kingdom down upon you as well.”

  She turned to Jeremiah when she said this. He stood tall and silently behind her like a soldier at attention. Rosalind was about to speak again, but instead only opened her mouth in shock. She pointed a finger at Jeremiah when noticing a moth had landed on his neck.

  “Don’t move!” she warned in a whisper, taking a step toward him. “I’ll swish it off you.”

  Rosalind raised an arm near his head, slowly bringing her hand back, then launched it forward directly at the moth. Before it hit its mark, Jeremiah’s hand sprang up and grabbed her wrist with a slap, stopping it in midair. Their faces were inches apart, their gazes locked.

  “Too late, princess!” Jeremiah snapped, his eyes now gray and dreary. “Not fast enough I’m afraid.”

  Rosalind yanked her arm away and stepped back in horror. Christopher and Molly were prisoners in one corner, and the man she loved with all her heart was again captive in his own body. She felt all life and hope drain from her soul.

  “I stand corrected. You’re now outnumbered five to three,” Jeremiah said with a smirk as he casually brushed the moth off his neck. “Fly away, little one. You served your purpose.” Now that the commotion had ended, the moths reassembled above one of the wall torches and resumed their erratic flights.

  “What do you intend to do with us?” Christopher said. He saw how broken up Rosalind appeared and did his best to keep on top of the situation.

  Jeremiah brushed past Rosalind as if she were a stranger and stood near the bottom step. “Unfortunately I won’t have time to reassemble the new vault for the castle. I had hoped you three would be my first guests in it during my coronation. But perhaps you’ll still get a chance to spend time in it one of these days.” He looked around the room and stroked his chin. “This place is as good as any to keep you out of mischief until I’m crowned King.” He turned to Morgus. “Keep our guests locked down here for the time being. And before you leave on your errands tonight, post a man in the guard room upstairs. Nobody goes in or out of this room until after the coronation. Understood?”

  “Understood,” he replied, signaling for his men to head up the stairs. They sheathed their swords and bounded up the steps.

  “Don’t think you’ve gotten away with this,” Rosalind said.

  “That goes double for me!” Molly snapped.

  “Yes, I’m trembling in my boots,” Jeremiah sarcastically replied as he followed Morgus up the staircase. He stopped halfway and turned to his prisoners. “Consider yourselves fortunate. At least you have food and light this time,” he said with a chuckle. “See how generous I can be, and I’m not even King yet!”

  Morgus snickered at his remark as they hurried up the staircase and disappeared into the upstairs corridor. A moment later the metal door slammed shut, a key was turned, a bolt slid–and then all was silent. Christopher, Molly and Rosalind were prisoners once again.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  A Lesson in Motion

  Christopher dashed up the stairs and tried in vain to open the metal door, but it wouldn’t budge. He kicked it, pushed it and even rammed his shoulder into it, but the obstinate metal door won out.

  Molly stared at her brother from below as Princess Rosalind placed all the torches back in their wall holders. “What is that boy trying to do?” she wondered aloud. “He’s not a circus strongman, after all.”

  “He’s just trying anything,” Rosalind said in a distracted tone. “Anything…”

  Christopher heaved himself at the door one last time, then slid down against it and sat on the floor. “It’s no use,” he muttered, breathing heavily.

  “No kidding,” Molly replied with a sigh.

  “At least I tried something!” he snapped as he shuffled down the stairs. “Have you got a better idea to get us out of here, Einstein?”

  “No,” she softly said.

  “Please, no harsh words among us,” Rosalind said as she sat on a low pile of grain sacks. She summoned Christopher and Molly to sit with her. “I realize tempers are on edge, but we must stick together and think our way out of this dismal situation.”

  Molly scanned the stone room with bewildered amusement. The flickering torchlight illuminated a small army of wooden barrels and crates packed with apples, potatoes and dried meat against the opposite wall. The scent of a summer orchard filled the room. Dozens of grain and flour sacks were piled along another wall in what used to be the old vault. And standing in the middle of everything, half uncrated, was a new iron vault door.

  “What do you think the odds were that we’d be imprisoned in this place for a second time?” Molly asked. “Had I ever considered it, I thought we’d have a better chance of being struck by lightning a dozen times.”

  “At least we’d be outdoors for the lightning part,” Christopher joked. “I hate being stuck in here!”

  “Then we must un-stuck ourselves before the world crumbles around us,” Rosalind warned. “If Jeremiah–” She bowed her head for a moment and rubbed her tired eyes. “Let me correct myself. If Belthasar is ever crowned King, I can’t imagine what evil deeds he would set in motion throughout Solárin and Endora.”

  Christopher picked up a pebble and tossed it at the crate. “I have a feeling he’s already started.”

  “No doubt Belthasar is planning mischief and chaos, but he can’t implement anything yet.”

  “Why not?” Molly asked, hugging her knees.

  “Only the King can issue major decrees, and until Belthasar is officially coronated, he can only attend to minor functions of state,” she explained. “Attempting to act like a king beforehand would alert others that something was wrong. Belthasar won’t risk his advisors and soldiers turning against him. He will bide his time until his rule is made official and legal–then he will let his minions loose like a pack of vicious wolves.”

  “With him leading the way,” Christopher said.

  Molly sighed again. “So what do we do?”

  “First we think of a way out of here,” Rosalind replied. “If we succeed, then we contact Mr. Tupper. Because he was such a loyal advisor to King Alexander, Belthasar allows him to remain on staff, but only for show. He has brought in other so-called advisors, but they are merely his thugs. I’m not sure if Belthasar has turned anyone inside the castle over to his side.” She shook her head with worry. “We can’t take a chance and trust another soul just yet. I’m afraid Mr. Tupper will be our only ally to start.”

  Molly forced a smile. “Well, one is better than none.”

  “That’s a positive way to look at the situation.”

  Christopher ignored their lasts bits of conversation as he gazed at the huge crate standing before them like a wooden elephant. He tossed another pebble at it. “Wasn’t the first vault door rectangular?” he wondered aloud.

  “I believe so,” Rosalind said.

  “With a round metal wheel in the center that controlled the locking mechanism,” Molly added. “I remember that awful grinding sound the bolt made.”

  “That’s right…” Christopher replied distantly.

  “Princess Rosalind, can I ask you a personal question?” Molly s
aid.

  “Certainly, Molly. What’s on your mind?”

  “I wonder why Belthasar made the vault door round this time,” Christopher softly said to himself while scratching the back of his neck.

  Molly turned to her brother and scowled. “Excuse me, but I’m trying to have a conversation here.”

  Christopher looked up in a fog. “Huh?”

  “It’s all right, Christopher,” Rosalind said with an understanding nod to Molly. “I suppose a round door is easier to move than a rectangular one, don’t you think?”

  “Suppose…” he replied, the mental cogs turning in his mind.

  Molly cleared her throat with authority. “Where were we, Princess Rosalind?”

  “You were about to ask me a personal question,” she said with a smile. “Proceed.”

  “I was just wondering… Well, when you were whispering to Jeremiah earlier, I–” Molly stared uneasily into Princess Rosalind’s eyes. “What promise did you make to him, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  Her smile disappeared. The princess looked at the ground in stony silence as Molly wondered if her question had stepped over the line. She squirmed in her seat as she waited for a response.

  “Molly, that is something I cannot talk about,” she softly said. “I don’t want to talk about it, at least not yet.”

  “I’m sorry for intruding,” she hastily added. “That was probably rude to ask.”

  “No need to apologize. I understand your curiosity.” Rosalind tried to conceal her distress. She folded her arms to ward off a slight chill, wondering why the springtime of her life felt like a rainy and bitter autumn day.

  Suddenly Christopher bounded out of his seat and stood by the crate with his back against the open section. He walked toward the wall directly ahead, counting off each pace to himself as if in a world of his own. “One, two, three…”

  Molly and Rosalind locked gazes on Christopher then looked at each other and shrugged.

  “Now what are you doing, Chris?” his sister asked. “Looks like you’re going stir crazy though you’ve only been in here a few minutes.”