The Endora Trilogy (The Complete Series)

by Thomas J. Prestopnik

  Morgus gritted his teeth. “If you would give me a moment…” He slammed a finger directly on the circle. “This circle, nearly in the center of this particular map, marks the general area where you are to ride to and wait. Notice that on every other map each circle is in a different location, miles apart, running in a line north and south between the two kingdoms. Some of you will have a longer ride to arrive at your spot, but you will be paid more. When you reach your location, set up camp and wait. Make sure you build a large roaring fire,” he instructed them. “That is your first duty. Then sometime after midday when the sun passes overhead, look to the north for a smoke signal from the man before you. Watch for the rising black plume climbing high into the sky. When you see it, untie the bag I gave you and pour the entire contents onto your fire to signal the next man. In a short time, we will have created a line of smoke plumes from Solárin to Endora and set in motion a great plan that will change this part of the world forever.”

  “What’s the plan?” someone asked.

  “You don’t need to know all the details,” Morgus said, tossing a knowing glance at Fennic. “Just stick to our plan for now.”

  As the riders pawed among the different maps, debating how far each of them had to travel, one looked up a bit puzzled. “I’ve got the first location farthest to the north. How do I know when to send the first signal?”

  Christopher perked up, as curious as the horseman to learn how this plan would commence.

  “You don’t send it,” Morgus said. “I’ll send the initial smoke signal from somewhere near Prince Jeremiah’s castle. When you see it from your spot–along a bend in the river near a large outcropping of rocks, as I recall–then you’ll send up your signal to the next man and so on all the way to the Endoran castle.”

  Another horseman, the one who had to ride the farthest south, suddenly spoke up. “According to this map, I’m camped miles away from that castle. Who’s going to see my signal? Who am I sending it to?”

  “Not to worry. I have a half dozen other men waiting in the hills near King Rupert’s castle,” Morgus said. “They will see your signal and act accordingly.”

  Morgus couldn’t help but smile, thinking about the troll and goblin invasion that would begin the moment the last plume of black smoke was spotted. Belthasar wanted the invasion of Endora launched as soon as possible after he would be crowned King, and Morgus didn’t disappoint him when he devised this elaborate plan of smoke signals. Belthasar would ascend to the throne of Solárin, trumpets would sound in the valley, and then the first smoke signal would be sent. Belthasar would then immediately order the arrest of King Rupert, hoist his red and black flags upon the castle towers and announce to everyone the impending takeover of Endora. Only at that moment would Belthasar finally reveal his true and terrible identity. His new soldiers would thereafter take over the Solárin castle and quell any uprisings, paving the way for Belthasar’s iron rule as King.

  Morgus thought it was a glorious plan.

  Christopher had no inkling of the intricate details swimming in Morgus’ head, but what scraps of the plan he had heard, he now knew when and how the invasion of Endora would be launched, but was no closer to stopping it. He was one person after all, cold and alone in the middle of nowhere, facing fourteen men, none of whom cared a whit about right and wrong. How was he supposed to defeat them? Christopher’s spirit felt as thin and weak as the white wisps of fog swirling around his feet.

  Morgus quickly reviewed his plan with the riders one last time, then dismissed them so they could begin their journeys. The men poured out of the barn like a restless herd of cattle, talking among themselves as they readied their horses. Fennic brushed past Morgus as the crowd dispersed, whispering a few words into his ear before slipping away into the mist.

  Morgus watched as the last of the riders departed through the woods, heading south into the night. A few moments later, all was silent. He went inside the barn, extinguished the two bonfires and then grabbed his torch and stepped back into the night air. He walked a few paces toward his horse tied up to a nearby tree, but quickly shifted direction and ran to the back of the barn, hoisting the torch in one hand and brandishing his sword in the other. He jumped into the air as he rounded the corner of the building, planting his boots on the ground just a few feet away from where Christopher stood.

  “A spy is a good spy only if he doesn’t get caught!” Morgus sneered, the tip of his sword pointed at Christopher’s chest.

  Christopher’s heart pounded wildly as the torchlight illuminated the shock upon his face. He backed up against the barn.

  “How’d you know I was here?”

  “I have my own spies. Now tell me what you heard!”

  “I heard enough,” Christopher said, his face burning with disdain. “And when I get word to King Rupert, you and all your loser friends will wish you’d never been born.”

  “Oh really,” Morgus said, quite unconcerned. “And how will you do that?” He placed the tip of his sword into the ground and leaned upon it as if it were a cane. “You’re lost in the wilderness in the middle of the night, unarmed and overconfident, and I assume you have no horse and no provisions either. So tell me, exactly how are you going to contact the King?”

  “Just watch me!” Christopher kicked the sword out of Morgus’ hand and sprinted in the opposite direction along the back of the barn. But in the next instant he gasped, stopping dead in his tracks.

  He slowly walked backward into the torchlight as another figure advanced toward him, looming like a phantom in the darkness. A moment later, Fennic’s twisted grin was visible in the light, the blade of his dagger reflecting the sputtering flames. Christopher spun around, but Morgus, again armed with his sword, blocked his escape. Christopher sighed and slumped his shoulders.

  “Trapped like a fox in a snare,” Morgus said. “You were clever enough to get out of the castle, but don’t expect to escape twice.” He placed the side of his blade against Christopher’s face. “And I regret to inform you that you won’t be able to warn King Rupert either. Despite your best effort, the coronation and invasion will go on as planned,” he said as Christopher defiantly looked on. “The world is about to change drastically, my friend, but you’re not going to be there to watch.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Tower Tactics

  “I feel like I’m stuck in a bad dream that won’t end,” Rosalind said after the door slammed shut. She heard the guard turn a key on the other side, locking her and Molly in the upper tower. His heavy footsteps echoed as he clomped down the stairs, presumably taking a seat below to keep his watch.

  “We’re stuck in a badly decorated dream,” Molly added, glancing about the room. “This place looks exactly like it did four years ago when we first rescued you.”

  Rosalind couldn’t help but laugh, noticing the few items in the small chamber. Beneath the room’s only window was a tiny rickety table with an unlit candle and an empty ceramic water basin on top. Across the room stood an old battered bed that Princess Rosalind had slept on for many restless nights, enduring one hopeless dream after another. A pile of tattered blankets lay upon it. The dingy gray light of morning added the final dismal touch.

  “After King Alexander regained his castle from Malaban, he and Jeremiah made many improvements to several of the rooms and corridors,” Rosalind said. “But they didn’t have time to refurbish every chamber. Restoring order in the kingdom was their first priority.” She sat on the bed, her face pale and careworn. She folded her hands in her lap and stared at the wall. “Now all that progress will be undone, I suppose.”

  “Don’t give up,” Molly said, tugging at the door handle. It was securely locked. “That eliminates that exit,” she muttered as she bounced about the room, checking for any possible way of escape. She opened the lone window and peeked outside, letting in the damp morning air. The sheer drop to the bottom made her heart flutter. “If only I had hair as long as Rapunzel’s…”

  Molly barely detect
ed the ground at the base of the castle in the dim light. The thin wisps of fog twisting and turning over the moat made her feel like she was stranded high above the clouds. She couldn’t see too far around the tower when she looked left, but to her right lay the parapet below, and off in the distance against a backdrop of billowy ashen clouds stood the next tower housing the aviary.

  “Who’s Rapunzel?” Rosalind asked, looking up sadly.

  “Just a girl in a fairy tale.” Molly popped her head back inside. “She had long hair. Really long hair. The King’s son used it to climb up a tower to visit her.”

  Rosalind ran her fingers through her flowing blond hair, then shrugged and tried to smile. “I’m afraid these tresses won’t work, Molly.”

  She chuckled, happy to hear Rosalind make a joke. “Mine either.” She walked toward the bed, about to sit down beside the princess before stopping dead in her tracks. “But those might,” Molly uttered, pointing to the pile of old blankets.

  Rosalind wrinkled her brow. “What are you talking about?”

  “This might do the trick,” she said, grabbing one of the three blankets with both hands and snapping it in the air. “Rapunzel had her hair, but we have these!”

  “Exactly what do you have in mind?” Rosalind asked, gazing at Molly with grave concern as if she were her mother. “That calculating gleam in your eyes fills me with dread.”

  “Don’t let it,” Molly said as she closely examined the blankets. The coarse fabric was thin in places but still strong enough for what she had in mind. She tugged at the corners of one blanket until a small tear appeared and then yanked it hard so the rip continued down the middle.

  Rosalind jumped out of her seat as Molly tore the blanket in half. “What are you doing?”

  “Getting us out of here,” she replied, grabbing the two remaining blankets. She handed one to Rosalind. “Rip it in half lengthwise just like I did with the first one.”

  Rosalind shook her head. “And what are we supposed to do then? Tie them together and climb down the tower? This Rapunzel idea of yours will not work,” she insisted. “For one thing, it’s too dangerous. These are blankets, not ropes.”

  “I know,” Molly said, tearing the second blanket.

  “And secondly, there is no possible way to reach the bottom of the tower. It’s too far down.” Rosalind stared at the blanket strips lying on the floor. “Where did you come up with such a peculiar idea anyway?”

  “From movies and television. Actors always perform outlandish escapes like this,” she said. “Most of the time they’re unbelievable. But since we’re in your world, it makes all the difference. None of you has ever watched a movie or TV show, so I figured this will be the last thing the guard should expect!”

  Though she still had her doubts, Princess Rosalind found Molly’s enthusiasm contagious. She tore the last blanket in half then sat down and asked Molly to explain her plan. She knew she had to at least give her a chance.

  “Don’t worry, Rosalind. I didn’t intend to climb all the way down the tower. I could never reach that far.”

  “That eases my mind a little.”

  “I’m only going to climb down far enough so that I can swing myself over and jump onto the parapet,” she casually replied.

  “What!” Rosalind jumped out of her seat again and looked out the window, gazing at the parapet below to her right. Though the rope blanket would be more than long enough for Molly to reach and climb over the parapet, Rosalind shuddered at the thought of her dangling outside the castle tower by a piece of cloth. Still, she admitted to herself, the plan had a good chance of success.

  “What are you thinking?” Molly asked.

  Rosalind turned away from the window. “I’ve come to the conclusion that our options are limited and that your idea is a good one. In fact, our only one. So we should proceed with caution.”

  “Great!” Molly scooped up the blanket halves.

  “But there is one condition,” Rosalind added. “I shall be the one climbing out the window. I won’t allow you to risk your life to save me.”

  Molly dropped the blankets in protest. “But it’s my plan! I have to go.”

  “That’s not a good enough reason. Explain the rest of your idea and we’ll begin.”

  “No offense, Princess Rosalind, but I’m smaller and lighter than you, and it’ll be safer if I climb out the window. The blankets will hold me better.”

  Rosalind admitted that she had a good point and suggested they both climb out.

  “We can’t,” Molly explained. “When the guard makes his first check, he’ll raise the alarm and send soldiers looking for us. Part of my plan is to get him out of our hair. That’s where you come in.”

  “Another excellent point,” Rosalind said. “You’re very good at this escaping business, Molly. So if I agree to your terms, what will I do?”

  “I’ll tell you,” she said with a mischievous grin.

  After Molly outlined her plan, she and Princess Rosalind quickly assembled the rope. They tied a large knot in the center of each blanket strip before securely tying them together. A substitute rope soon snaked across the floor. Molly smiled with pride.

  “I’ll bet we have forty feet to work with,” she guessed.

  “Christopher would be proud, Molly.”

  “Well, some people bust down walls, but others swing from them,” she replied. “Now one more item before we start. We have to place the bed under the window and tie the rope to it. That’ll be our anchor.”

  Rosalind quickly moved the small table aside, careful not to drop the ceramic basin. Then she and Molly carried the bed over to the window and tied one end of the blanket rope to the frame. Molly tossed the other end out the window. She and Rosalind each took a peek to see how far down it extended.

  “Plenty of rope,” Molly said, gazing at the trail of cloth drizzling down the tower. “It extends several yards below the parapet, so I’ll have lots to work with.”

  “I still have misgivings,” Rosalind said. “What if–”

  “Don’t think like that,” Molly said, stepping away from the window. “What if we don’t do this? What if Belthasar succeeds? Nothing will matter after that.”

  Rosalind nodded and offered Molly an encouraging smile. “You’re right, of course. So I’ll wish you good luck,” she said, giving her a hug. She quickly pulled in the rope and tied the other end around Molly’s waist. “You will at least take this one bit of precaution, young lady. And no theatrics either, if you please. Climb down, swing over to the parapet and be done with it, okay?”

  “Okay,” she said, seeing the anxiety pooled deep inside Rosalind’s eyes. She felt like she had an older sister and hated to see Rosalind’s emotions torment her so. “Let’s get this over with and we’ll all feel better,” she said, stepping bravely onto the bed and climbing out the window.

  “Small steps,” Rosalind said as Molly positioned herself. “The stone is damp with morning mist.” Molly nodded, bracing her feet firmly against the wall as she clutched the blankets. A swirl of gray clouds drifted in the background.

  Though one end was tied to the frame, Rosalind knelt on the bed and grabbed hold of the rope for extra support. Molly took a few tiny steps and lowered herself down the wall to test the strength of the blankets.

  “So far, so good,” she said, looking up at Rosalind. A mild breeze brushed through her hair. “Remember what I told you to do?”

  “Yes,” she said. “Just like in your movies. Now hurry and get some ground under your feet. And don’t look down!”

  Molly slowly inched down, using the knots in the rope to secure her grip. With each step, the slack in the rope from her hands to her waist lessened. She fought off the urge to look down and instead kept her eyes fixed on the stone directly ahead. She deeply inhaled the pleasant breeze caressing her face, imagining herself walking through dewy grass on a spring morning. As she continued descending, Rosalind’s face grew smaller and smaller. Molly glanced left, knowing the parapet wo
uld soon come into view.

  “Just a few more steps,” she whispered, planting each foot against the damp surface. Her sneakers firmly gripped the stone and she felt confident about not slipping. But occasionally she heard the groans of the stretching blanket strips and tried not to think how many years the thinning fabric had wasted away in the heat and cold of the upper tower. Molly blotted everything out of her mind and took another step down, another step closer. And then another. And another…

  The parapet finally rose into view at eye level to her left. Molly sighed with relief and stretched her legs so her body extended farther out. Slowly she walked a few steps to the right, hoping to build up momentum on her way back. A moment later, she kicked her feet off the side of the tower and swung to the left like a pendulum, continually kicking off the wall to keep moving. But her forward motion fizzled out as she approached the parapet, unable to reach it.

  Molly rested a moment in her new position, hugging the wall like a huge spider dangling from a single stand of its web. She glanced up at the tiny face of Princess Rosalind, feeling cold and alone, then had a sudden urge to look down. She did with a gasp and then snapped her head back and looked straight at the wall.

  “Stupid idea!” she muttered, her heart furiously racing. Molly recalled when she and Christopher glanced down from the parapet at the workers as they broke a hole into the castle wall. Though she was now at the same height, this new perspective made all the difference in the world. “Get this over with now,” she whispered as she stretched out her legs once more.

  She then kicked off the wall repeatedly and let her momentum carry her back to the right, this time a few yards farther than on her first try. When she reached as far as she could go, she shifted her weight and kicked off again, sailing back to the left with a little more speed. The stone parapet grew closer with each kick, but Molly still wasn’t sure if she’d get near enough to reach it, fearing one more journey the other way. She wondered if she’d have the strength to climb back up to the window if she failed. The threads in the blanket strained and ripped in the still morning air.