They secured their captive well, using strong rope which was bound around her waist, and Crystal cried out, begging them to let her go, but her pleas simply fell on deaf ears. Her arms were pinned to her side, making it impossible for her to move, the rope was pulled so tight it cut her flesh. Then she experienced a feeling of weightlessness and was forced off her feet; she cried out again, her legs kicking wildly as she tried to find solid ground. Stolen laughter was all she could hear. She felt a rush of air before she connected with a hard thump to her belly and was placed onto the back of a waiting mare. Although disorientated, she heard men’s voices low and menacing seeping through the sack and whilst she only caught wisps of conversation, it was enough to turn her blind panic into fear.
‘We must ride straight to Forusian’s castle without delay,’ said a triumphant voice. ‘The girl must be in his possession before King Gamada gets a whiff of what has occurred here.’
Snorts of agreement filled the air and Crystal could hear them ridiculing the elf king whilst they hitched up their horses ready to ride. From their muffled conversation, Crystal guessed they were no more than three kidnappers. Her mind swirled with confusion. What did they want with her? What had happened to Matt and Tremlon? Were they seriously hurt? She blanched when she thought back to the scene at the wagon and shivered. They’d been unable to fight off these intruders and she gave a silent prayer in the hope that they were both still alive. A cry broke out and the horses set off at a fierce gallop. Their hooves pounded the snow, the hard ground underneath their feet was solid like stone and unyielding and her mind raced ahead, confused and frightened
*.
They had been riding for many hours when there was a commotion and some kind of vocal command rang out between the riders. Crystal’s stomach ached from the bumpy ride and the queasy feeling she felt in her stomach would not leave her bruised gut. As the horses slowed, she feared what was going to happen to her once she reached her final destination.
‘Where is she?’ demanded a voice she didn’t recognise. She took a breath when strong arms dragged her from the horse and she fell to the floor, the impact almost winding her. Rough hands picked her up and she struggled until she was thrown over someone’s shoulder, her legs kicking out in fury.
‘Careful, you idiots,’ the voice scolded, ‘I told you she is not to be harmed and take off that stupid rag thing that’s covering her face. I want to see my prized possession in one piece and not as damaged goods.’
Crystal was thrown onto her feet and from somewhere behind her a guard stepped forward and cut the rope that bound her wrist with one swift slice of a dagger. The sack was then whipped off her head and as soon as it was lifted, daylight blinded her and she raised her hand to protect her eyes. Her damp hair was clinging to her face and her clothes were torn and dishevelled, but she saw none of this and once her eyes grew accustomed to the glare of daylight she concentrated on rubbing her aching wrists, which were bloody and sore. Soon horror filled her eyes when she turned and stared at the guard, for he had removed his hooded clothing to reveal he wasn’t anything remotely human and a bloodcurdling scream left her stricken lips.
‘Oh, my god!’ she shrieked, trying to control the instinct to run. ‘What the hell are you?’ She stepped away, unable to look at the hideous creature for a moment longer and turned to face the person who owned the voice of command.
‘Oh my, we have a feisty one here,’ said her captor, shading his eyes to get a better look. ‘Now, let’s stay calm, no one’s going to hurt you.’
‘What?
‘Mmm, I see,’ he continued, scrutinising Crystal from head to toe, ‘you’re not what I expected at all.’ The male standing in front of her shifted from one foot to the other, unable to take his sharp, green eyes off her.
‘Now before we go any further, let me introduce you to my loyal subjects,’ he said, pointing towards the guard. ‘These creatures are the Nonhawk, a powerful combination of pure muscle, self-pity and greed, yes they are a little strange looking, but their loyalty to me as king is beyond all doubt.’
Crystal looked back at the guard, it was the closest thing to an alien she’d ever seen. Its green skin was thick and cratered and its eyes were nothing more than two black holes in its huge, ugly face, staring back at her, dull and lifeless. She turned back to glare at her captor.
‘Who are you?’ she demanded, feeling the welts on her wrist disappear. ‘And why is it you’re so different to them?’
‘Well, well, my manners are known to be appalling,’ he said, giving a little snort. ‘Let me introduce myself. I am King Forusian, ruler of the Nonhawk, and I see it hasn’t escaped your attention that I am not of their blood, but I am their king. Anyway, enough about me. Are you alright? I’m sorry about your little ‘‘detour’’ but I’m afraid my needs are foremost.’
The person standing in front of her was indeed no Nonhawk warrior, and she couldn’t help noticing how young and handsome he appeared to be. His thick raven-black hair was smooth and sleek, falling against his forehead and softening his face. His eyes were the greenest she had ever seen, like the ocean in the middle of summer and his smile totally dazzling. He was not a tall man, indeed his height could be seen as a disadvantage. His legs were thin and bony, almost wasted, and it appeared only the top half of his body could ever be appealing.
Crystal bit her lip; she sensed an underlying danger behind those soft green eyes.
‘Come, come, don’t be shy,’ Forusian said, waving his hand for her to follow him. ‘I wouldn’t want my new guest to think me unwelcoming.’ The guard pushed the butt of his sword into the crook of her back. She flinched, turned and glared at him, but he ignored her penetrating stare.
‘Keep up, keep up, there’s a good girl,’ ordered Forusian, walking away. ‘That’s it, just follow me, I’m sure you would love a tour of the castle, everyone does, you know.’
It appeared the castle was perched on a high cliff face at the very edge of the sea. A solitary seagull sent a hysterical cry above her head; the shrill of its wail pierced the grey sky and Crystal shivered.
‘Where am I?’ she asked, noticing that not a single flake of snow had fallen here.
‘Why, you’re in my kingdom,’ Forusian answered with a pearly, white smile, ‘and you’re my most welcomed guest.’
The guard grunted for her to move on and Crystal took a step forward, reluctant to obey. Gravel crunched under her feet when she made her way to the main entrance, following Forusian who took her into a great hall.
‘Well, what do you think, do you like it?’ he asked, waving his hands in the air when they entered. Crystal fell silent and Forusian appeared not to notice.
‘I was given this castle as a present from a scheming goblin owing me a considerable amount of money due to bad investments. I gave him an offer he couldn’t refuse: either surrender his abode to me or die,’ he let out with a sudden chuckle. ‘So, here we are.’
Crystal pulled her lips tight, realising he liked the sound of his own voice to echo from the four walls. She needed to know why she was here before she could work out a plan of escape, so she decided to bide her time and try to stay out of trouble. She didn’t know if Forusian was dangerous, but her intuition told her to be wary, very wary.
‘Here we are at the King’s Hall,’ he said, laughing as though he had said something amusing. He turned to her, his face bright and cheerful. ‘Well, it is a hall and I am the king, so I guess that’s as good a name as any, don’t you think?’
The two Nonhawk warriors guarding the doors to the King’s Hall pushed them aside to allow the king and his entourage to enter. The room was spectacular, with fine, tall lancet windows and a hammer-beam roof. The dining table placed on a raised platform in the centre of the room was made from the highest quality walnut and looked to be able to seat at least sixty people with ease. Crystal noticed the table was already set with silver cutlery and the finest cut-glass crystal. Nine candelabras stood in a row, creating a wonderful display
of grandeur. The ornate mantelpiece framed the fireplace, which crackled with life. Hanging high above the mantle sat a larger-than-life-sized portrait of King Forusian.
‘Isn’t it a wonderful painting?’ He gushed, when he caught her stare. ‘I just love looking at it, it’s so me!’ he giggled, putting his hand to his chest in an act of self-modesty. ‘I really am a lucky fellow to be blessed with such devilish good looks and to have all the power which I possess. I guess you could say I got the cake and ate the hand that baked it too.’
Forusian moved towards Crystal with a light step.
‘You’re quite a delightful dish to feast my eyes upon and I just love your deliciously long hair. What colour is that? It’s in fact quite dazzling.’ Crystal stared at him in disbelief; was this guy for real?
‘Cat got your tongue, eh? Well, I guess it’s not every day you get to be in a castle with a real king, you must be quite in awe of it all, sweet girl. Still plenty more to show you, so let’s not sit and chat here or we’ll never get finished.’
Forusian took Crystal on a tour of the castle, which lasted for over an hour, and all the time she was followed by two Nonhawk soldiers. Afterwards, he led her back to the King’s Hall, which also gave access to his private chambers.
‘I have decided to put you in the red room,’ he told her. ‘I thought it would be appropriate with the colour of your hair. Dinner’s at eight and I don’t expect you to be late. I thought we could eat in the drawing room, it’s much less informal in there.’
Forusian nodded to the guard to take Crystal away. He gave her a sharp nudge and once they reached her room, he pushed her inside and locked the door behind her. His footsteps melted away and she gazed around the bedroom, taking in her surroundings. She could see why it was called the red room, the main feature being a solid oak four-poster bed; delicate carvings of beautiful young maidens were portrayed in great detail on the wooden bedstead, each bolster wrapped in a rich-red velvet curtain, finished off with twisted gold braid trimmings. The chairs were covered in a rich scarlet fabric and a bright-red chaise longue dominated her view of the window, which was barred.
A tall, thin cabinet stood against the far wall covered in gold and on the top sat a realistic figurine of a fawn which reminded her very much of Mr Tumnus, with his cloven hooves and human face, and when she reached out and touched his horns with her fingertips, much to her amazement he started playing a haunting melody on his pipes. It took a while, but once she grew tired of him she noticed there was a small door which opened to the bathroom, and she pushed the door ajar and took a peek inside.
The room was surprisingly sparse, but a silver swan was perched on the far wall, with its wings cradled to catch the water that flowed from its smooth, elongated beak. Fresh towels sat on a set of carved wooden drawers, each embroidered with a regal ‘F’, and she thought the shape of the toilet looked decidedly unusual. She noted that clean clothes were draped over a chair and, looking down, realised her own were filthy and torn.
She washed and changed and after what seemed like hours later, the sound of her door being unlocked brought her attention back to Forusian. The guard was waiting for her when she found the courage to open it and he told her briskly that King Forusian requested her attendance at dinner.
She stood in the doorway wearing a pale blue dress, shaped like a sari but with a fuller skirt. Her necklace shone deep purple around her tender throat, showing her despair.
‘This way,’ the Nonhawk soldier barked, pointing his sword down the corridor.
Crystal felt her spine stiffen.
‘Whatever you say,’ she barked back. ‘It’s not like I have a choice is it!’
When she entered the dining room, Forusian was sitting at the head of the table.
‘So glad you could make it,’ he said in amusement. ‘Please, come, take a seat.’
The guard pulled out a chair and Crystal sat down. A troll came to her side and poured sparkling wine into her goblet; once filled, he bowed before the king and left. King Forusian rang a small, silver bell and two more trolls appeared, this time with large, silver platters perched high above their heads. They placed them on the table and a wonderful aroma filled the air.
‘Tuck in,’ said the king, waving his hand in the air. ‘I’m sure you must be hungry and I can’t have you wasting away.’
Forusian reached out and grabbed a large drumstick; he took a bite, pulling the white flesh from the bone with his strong, perfect teeth.
‘I do hope you’re not one of those fussy vegetarians,’ he said, with his mouth full, ‘but if you are, I can always get you something else to try.’
Crystal pushed her plate away.
‘I’m not hungry,’ she said lowering her lashes. ‘I just want to go home.’
‘You can’t go home,’ Forusian spat, his eyes turning cold and he threw the drumstick onto his plate, having suddenly lost his appetite.
‘But I don’t understand why I’m here; what do you want with me?’ Crystal argued. Forusian reached for the silky material which served as a napkin. He wiped his mouth several times before he spoke.
‘So, you wish for me to cut to the chase and tell you why you’re here?’
‘Well, I didn’t think it was just to show me your damn castle,’ she snapped, feeling her anger rising.
‘True,’ he said, turning serious. ‘However, it is really important to me to make sure we have a good relationship during your stay.’
‘What do you mean?’ she asked, in dismay, ‘how could we possibly be friends after you kidnapped me?’ Forusian wiped his fingers one by one and then threw away the silken cloth.
‘Well, let’s just say having you here with me will help me in more ways than one and I would like us to be friends.’
‘You’re talking in riddles,’ she replied, frustration filling her voice.
‘I’m sure it will all become apparent to you in time,’ he said, wagging a firm finger, ‘something I feel you will have plenty of whilst being my guest.’
‘I am not your guest,’ she boomed at him. ‘I am your prisoner.’ Forusian shifted uncomfortably in his seat; it was clear he wasn’t used to being spoken to in this manner. Once again, he gestured to her to eat, preferring to ignore her sudden outburst.
‘Don’t worry,’ he told her, picking up his goblet and taking a large gulp of wine. ‘You’ll be pleased to know that if I have my way, we will become closer than you ever thought possible.’
Crystal looked exasperated and a deep chill seeped into her bones. How could he even think they could be friends, but more importantly, why would he ever want them to be?
Chapter 7
Matt and Tremlon entered the elf kingdom in disgrace. When the wagon did not appear at the gates at dusk, Phaphos had been ordered by the king to send out a small search party. The snow lay thick upon the ground, but the blizzard had long since passed. It took much time to cross the frozen lands, and the bitter wind and freezing conditions hindered their task, but eventually the remains of the wagon stood on the horizon, the frozen carcasses of the horses lying like ice statues where they fell.
‘Build a fire!’ shouted Phaphos, urging his men to do the task quickly. ‘Then bring any bodies you can find towards the flames.’ They found three bodies close by; the first was beyond anyone’s help. The dead warrior’s blood had run like an icy river, changing the pure white snow to a deep, dark crimson. He lay face down, his throat cut from ear to ear, and what blood was left inside his body was frozen in his veins for all eternity.
The search party stared in disbelief. The scene before them was nothing more than savagery. Dragging the second body to the fireside, Phaphos helped strip the soft pelt from Tremlon’s stiffened body and began to pinch the unconscious elf’s ears and nose before slapping his face. The fire soon took hold and huge crackles rippled through the darkness as the flames licked towards the stars. The golden glow flickered whilst the wind blew, forcing dark shapes to dance upon his pale skin. Tremlon’s eyelids flutt
ered, then a moment passed and his body suppressed a groan and he opened his eyes. He stared at Phaphos without really seeing him at all; disorientated, he blinked at an alarming rate before bolting upright in panic, unable to grasp his bearings.
‘Be calm, you’re safe,’ exclaimed Phaphos, grabbing his hands in restraint. ‘It is I, Phaphos; don’t be afraid and tell me, who did this?’ With trembling limbs Tremlon fought to get to his feet, pushing Phaphos aside. Worry clouded his judgement when cold comprehension shot to the surface of his mind. He stumbled, losing his footing, and he grappled in the snow, desperate to reach the place where Matt was lying, cold and still. He crawled on his hands and knees, his breathing laboured for he was weak from the attack, and his incompetence at protecting the boy rang loud and clear inside his brain. He reached out and brushed the snow off Matt’s back and then turned him over. The boy’s limbs fell with a sickening ‘thud’ onto the bed of soft snow and Tremlon blanched when he realised they were probably too late to save him.
‘Phaphos, over here!’ he yelled, pulling at the boy’s ears and nose with no effect.
‘Is he mortal?’ asked Phaphos, dropping to his knees and examining the boy’s body, ‘because pinching his ears won’t do any good if he’s not one of us; you need to warm him and give his lungs air.’
A soldier threw more wood on the fire and it roared into life. Tremlon covered Matt with thick blankets brought by the soldiers and he checked his vital signs to find they weren’t good. His pulse was weak and his pupils dilated, but he was alive.
He dragged Matt’s body closer to the fire, placing him as close to the flames as possible. The bonfire crackled and hissed, spitting heat towards his frozen body and, eventually, Matt’s cheeks turned pink and his skin was warm to the touch, then he opened his eyes. Tremlon, although not a sentimental elf, cupped his hand around Matt’s head and pulled him close; he would always be eternally thankful the boy had not died whilst in his care. Once satisfied Matt was out of danger, Tremlon called to one of the elves, asking for something hot for Matt to drink, which Matt readily accepted, and as the warmth seeped down to his belly Matt’s thoughts drifted back to his last memory before his brain had shut down, like someone flicking a switch off inside his head.
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