by Zac Gorman
“Ingo, it’s me!” she said.
The cage was dark as she approached it. There was something moving in the darkness, but it was hard to make out. She got closer and leaned in toward the bars.
“Ingo?” she said.
Thisby turned the corner and saw Iphigenia bending close to the cage. Behind her, inside the cage, Thisby saw something move in the dark. Only it wasn’t Ingo. It was something much, much bigger than Ingo.
“IPHIGENIA! GET BACK!” shouted Thisby, but it was too late.
Tentacles shot from the cage and wrapped around Iphigenia, pulling her in toward the bars as she struggled and thrashed against them. Thisby sprinted toward her. She grabbed Iphigenia’s hand to free her, but the tentacles were too strong. In the cage, Thisby saw a beak full of razor-sharp teeth snap hungrily.
“OVER HERE!” bellowed a familiar voice.
Thisby glanced over her shoulder as she pulled helplessly on Iphigenia’s arm. There across the aisle, in several crudely welded-together cages, was a face she wasn’t sure if she should be happy to see or not . . . the Sentinel of the Darkwell.
“Catface?” yelled Thisby.
“FREE ME!” he boomed.
Catface had seen better days, but he was still an intimidating sight. Even cramped in that cage, filthy and beaten, he still somehow managed to look proud and dignified.
Thisby’s mind raced. She thought of all the times Catface had messed with her, bullied her, made her feel frightened and weak. She wished for all the world she could leave him in his stupid cage. Make him suffer for all the times he’d been mean to her. For what a jerk he’d been. But now wasn’t the time for petty revenge. There were bigger things at stake.
“HOW?” she yelled back, suddenly realizing it might not be as easy as he’d made it sound.
“There’s a lever that opens the cages! It’s an emergency release! Over there!”
“WAIT! IT OPENS ALL OF THEM?” Thisby exclaimed.
“Yes! There’s no time! I’ll get you out of here! Your friend is going to die!”
Thisby looked him in the eyes, trying to see if she could see through them. She had to trust that he was as good as his word. That he would get them out of here. If not, once those cages were open, she was as good as dead. Still, if she did nothing, Iphigenia was dead regardless.
Thisby threw the switch.
With a lurching metallic noise, all the gates swung open, and for a moment everything was hauntingly, mind-numbingly silent. This particular type of silence is sometimes called the calm before the storm. It’s the moment when everything seems to freeze and the world has one last fleeting moment of peace before everything gets turned upside down. This was that moment. It was actually pretty nice.
And then it was over.
With a horrendous din of banging bars, trampling footsteps, and otherworldly screams, all the worst creatures in the Deep Down burst forth from their cages and started destroying everything in sight—the building, one another, themselves. It was a prison riot, yes, but it made a normal prison riot look like a couple of kittens tussling over a ball of yarn. It was as if the entire world had exploded into violence and screaming and mayhem.
Thisby turned to see Iphigenia being dragged into the beast’s cage. She looked around, but there was no sign of the Sentinel. Catface had broken his word. This is it, she thought. This is how I die.
Thisby couldn’t think, so she acted instead, rushing headlong into the beast’s cage. She pushed her way through a mass of tentacles, which were whipping all over the cage like stays on a ship that had burst free in a storm, until she found Iphigenia. She was braced against the creature’s beak, fighting with all her strength to avoid being pulled inside its angry jaws.
Doing the first thing that came to mind, Thisby charged forward and jammed her hand into the beast’s one enormous eye as hard as she could. To her surprise—and the beast’s—it went in quite easily, and moments later, she found herself elbow deep in monster eyeball. The creature let out a horrific shriek and began to thrash harder than ever. One of its tentacles caught Thisby in the side of the head and sent her sprawling to the floor of the cage.
Her head swam. The next thing she knew, she was being dragged out of the cage by her ankle and tossed up onto a big furry back. She felt Iphigenia’s arms wrap tightly around her waist, and it was all Thisby could think to do to grab two handfuls of fur and hold on tight.
Catface was off like a rocket, bounding through the prison, knocking over monsters as he went and finally spilling out onto the streets outside. Armed guards rushed toward them, trying to contain the situation, but the chaos was too much.
Catface sprang from the ground, and Thisby felt the wind rush through her hair. She felt the freedom of weightlessness followed by the sinking jolt in her stomach as they landed on the rooftops above. Iphigenia squeezed tighter. Mingus swayed in his jar, screaming in some language Thisby couldn’t understand. He was probably cursing something awful.
“My brother! We have to go back for my brother!” Iphigenia shouted.
“Your brother’s not in there, Princess,” said Catface. “We need to get out of here.”
Catface bounded over the rooftops, knocking tiles loose as he ran, occasionally shattering them entirely. Once his large paw even smashed entirely through a weakened patchwork roof. As he regained his balance and withdrew his foot, Thisby looked down to see some rather frightened-looking Deep Dwellers shouting up angrily at them through the brand-new hole in their ceiling.
Catface was off like a rocket, bounding through the prison, knocking over monsters as he went and finally spilling out onto the streets outside.
The girls held on tightly as Catface ran, leaping from building to building. Occasional arrows flew past and alarms sounded, but they weren’t the only prisoners who’d escaped that night, and in the chaos, even a cat the size of a house running across the rooftops of the city could become easily lost in the commotion.
“You didn’t use the blackdoors,” said Iphigenia, her hair blowing in her face.
“What?” said Thisby, but even as she said the word her mind was already being overwhelmed by her own stupidity. In the chaos she’d forgotten about them entirely. They were right there in her pocket the whole time. But for some reason she’d run into the cage anyway. She’d thought she was going to die, but she ran in anyway. How stupid could she be?
“I guess I forgot.”
“That’s pretty stupid,” said Iphigenia, squeezing Thisby tighter than she had been previously. It was as close as either Thisby or Iphigenia had ever come to giving or receiving a hug. Neither one of them was really sure it was actually happening.
“Yeah, I guess it was,” said Thisby.
Catface slowed when they reached the outskirts of the city.
“I need to rest,” he said at last, admitting defeat against his wounds once the adrenaline of their escape had worn off.
He found a small cave that appeared to be unoccupied and bent down, letting the girls slide off his back. It turned out Catface could be considerate when he wanted to be. Thisby and Iphigenia slumped down onto the cave floor, not realizing how exhausted they were until they took a moment to let their guards down.
Thisby set her bag beside her. Mingus sat still in his jar, saying nothing. He hadn’t spoken since they’d left the prison.
“Mingus . . . light?” Thisby asked weakly.
Mingus didn’t respond. Or glow. He just sat there. Catatonic.
It was uncomfortable when Mingus didn’t respond. Since he didn’t need to breathe or blink or do any of the other basic functions that almost all living things do, when he didn’t respond it seemed for all intents and purposes as if he was dead. One time he’d slept for two days in a row, and Thisby had almost considered burying him.
Catface began to clean his wounds just like any cat would, and the girls watched him from the other side of the cavern. He paused momentarily when he noticed them staring, but then continued unabashed.
“Where’s my brother?” asked Iphigenia after watching him for some time.
He paused his licking and looked at the Princess.
“Direct. I like it,” he said.
“This is not a game, cat,” she said.
Catface turned to Thisby. “Hah! You two are cut from the same cloth, aren’t you? Although I’d have to say that her end of the cloth is much nicer looking. Yours is a bit frayed and stained in comparison. A bit worse for the wear, wouldn’t you say?”
“Please just answer,” said Thisby pleadingly.
“Oh, very well,” said Catface. “I’ve just been desperate for interaction, that’s all.”
He looked back at Iphigenia, who was now scowling at him.
“I don’t know where your brother is, but he wasn’t in that prison. The last thing I overheard was that he was being taken to the meet with the Eyes in the Dark.”
“I thought the Eyes in the Dark was just a story. Something to frighten children into behaving,” said Thisby.
“It’s hard to say for sure. It’s possible that it’s just a title they give to their King. Sort of an honorary thing. But either way, the Deep Dwellers were taking their orders from somewhere. Once the Darkwell opens, we won’t just be dealing with some monsters flooding the dungeon—it’ll be an army.”
Thisby stood up. “So how do we stop them from opening the Darkwell?”
For the first time, Catface looked gravely serious. He settled into a sphinx pose and studied Thisby’s face. It made her nervous.
“I’m afraid it’s too late. They may not have opened the Darkwell yet, but the magic is broken, and they’re heading for the surface. It’s only a matter of time.”
“So, what, we should just sit back while they take over the dungeon? That’s my home! It’s our home!” said Thisby, standing up. She was wobblier than she’d realized. Apparently, she was still a bit woozy from that hit to the head.
Catface furrowed his brow.
“Perhaps you shouldn’t have broken the magic seal in the first place!” he snapped.
Thisby looked confused, “Me! What did I do?”
“Not you!” snarled Catface. “Him!”
Mingus turned around in his lantern.
“Thisby,” he muttered. “I’m so sorry.”
Thisby couldn’t believe her ears.
“What’s he talking about, Mingus? You didn’t do anything . . . right?”
Mingus glowed a faint white, so faint it was almost not visible at all.
“I was born in the Deep Down. I never told you because I was afraid you’d send me back, or at least, someone would. One day, I just came through. Into the dungeon. I had to get out, Thisby! I had to! That was the day you found me. I didn’t realize until later that passing through the Darkwell could undo its magical protection.”
“What do you mean?” asked Iphigenia.
“Ah! Just as I suspected!” said Catface, turning to Iphigenia. “Years ago, when the Darkwell was created, a magical seal was placed on the gate that could only be opened by a sort of paradox. The spell stated that the only way the gate would ever open, regardless of force, was if something had already physically passed through it. The spell served two purposes: one, you couldn’t simply smash the gate open, and two, you couldn’t use a blackdoor to reach the other side because you’d never physically traveled through the opening. Brilliant, isn’t it? The gate will only open if something has already opened it. Only they forgot one thing: What if you didn’t need to open it to physically pass through it? What if you could simply slip between the blackweave and come out the other side? Well, then the spell would be broken. And our boneless friend here managed to do exactly that!”
“But how did Roquat figure it out?” asked Iphigenia.
Mingus was silent for a moment before finding the courage to speak.
“Two weeks ago, when you were out feeding the salamanders, I woke up to find Roquat in your room. He must’ve been coming and going with blackdoors to get past your locks. He was reading your journals. He told me he’d figured out where I was really from and that he’d send me back there if I said anything to you! He’d been reading your journals for months, and somehow he’d put it all together! I’m so sorry, Thisby! I should’ve said something, but I was so scared!”
Mingus didn’t have real eyes and was incapable of crying, but Thisby heard tears in his voice. But how had he not told her? How could he have kept this from her for so long?
“Why didn’t you tell me you were born in the Deep Down?” she asked.
“I was scared. Scared you’d send me back. I couldn’t stand the thought of coming back here, Thisby. I can’t.”
“You should’ve told me about Roquat, at least! You knew he was up to something! Maybe we could’ve fixed this before it was too late!” Thisby was getting angrier the more she thought about it. If Mingus hadn’t been such a coward, they might’ve been able to avoid this whole thing.
“He just took your notebooks and he left! He must’ve realized that because the spell was broken, he could use the blackdoors to pass through the gate. What was I supposed to do? It’s not my fault, Thisby! I was scared!”
“Enough!” shouted Thisby. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!”
She got up and walked over to Mingus, peering angrily into his jar.
“You know what? You’re a coward. That’s all there is to it. You live in your little jar and you try to keep yourself safe, but you don’t care what happens to anybody else, not really. Now the whole dungeon is in danger because of you. Because you were too much of a coward to speak up. I wish you’d stayed in the Deep Down.”
With that, Thisby stormed out of the cave. Iphigenia tried to follow her, but Catface put up his big paw to stop her.
“She’ll be fine. Just give her a minute,” he said calmly.
Thisby stomped off into the darkness. She’d known Mingus for so long, and this whole time he’d been keeping a secret from her that put the whole dungeon at risk. How could he have been so selfish?
She thought of the day she’d met him, hanging through the grate of the blackweave gate. She’d thought he was falling through it, but in retrospect he may have been coming out. It hurt her to think of their whole friendship being built on a lie. From the moment they met, he’d never said a word about it. Never said a word about the Deep Down or his life before her. Maybe she hadn’t asked the right questions. Maybe if she’d been a better friend or made him feel more secure, he would’ve told her. Maybe it was her fault after all.
Roquat had figured it out somehow. Mingus was right—he must’ve stolen her notebooks. He’d figured it out. He was cleverer than she’d thought, and if she hadn’t kept those notebooks . . . Maybe it was her fault after all.
Thisby looked around and suddenly realized she was a long way from the cave.
It had taken her longer than she cared to admit to remember she was still in the Deep Down, and almost instantly her anger was transposed with fear. She had no backpack, no lantern, no Iphigenia, no Mingus, no Catface, and was wandering aimlessly around in the place that haunts the dreams of the things that haunt people’s dreams. Her heart sank.
She turned to go back and found herself face to face with several Deep Dwellers, clicking and hissing as they closed in around her. They’d snuck up on her. She had been so lost in thought that she hadn’t even been paying attention.
Thisby looked around, but there was nowhere to run. She was cornered, backed up against a wall. She tried desperately to think of a plan, but her mind was racing too fast for her to keep up. The Deep Dwellers moved forward, slowly, methodically, until all at once, as if a switch had flipped, the monsters stopped, frozen in place.
The crowd parted and a person walked through. He was clad in golden armor and a long red cape, but his pretty face was unmistakable.
“There you are!” said Ingo. “I’ve been looking all over for you!”
He snapped his fingers and the Deep Dwellers pounced on Thisby, kn
ocking her to the ground. She fell poorly, facefirst, and ended up with a mouthful of dirt and a bloody nose. Thisby struggled underneath the weight of her attackers, but it was no use. She was completely overpowered.
It took all her strength just to get her head up, and when she did, she found herself face to face with Ingo, who was leaning in to get a better look at her, bringing them within mere inches of each other. For somebody who’d just spent several days in captivity, he seemed shockingly well put together.
“I heard that you saved my sister,” he said with a soft smile.
“Y-yes,” Thisby muttered.
“Pity,” he said.
And with that, a hood was pulled over Thisby’s head, and everything went dark.
Chapter 22
After what felt like an eternity, the hood was pulled off Thisby’s head and the world flooded with light. She struggled for breath; the air was almost as hot and sour as it’d been inside the hood. Before her eyes could even adjust to the light, some gruff voice yelled, “Drink,” and a cup full of warm water was thrust in her face. Very little of it made it into her mouth.
As her eyes adjusted, she saw Ingo standing on the other side of a campfire, looking out of place in the horrible company he kept. He patted some Deep Dweller—an unfortunate-looking creature covered in ratty brown fur whose face was in its stomach—on the shoulder before walking over to Thisby and kneeling down.
“This place is terrible, isn’t it?” He chuckled.
Thisby was silent. Her mouth was still caked with dirt and blood from where she’d face-planted after his guards had tackled her.
“Here,” he said. He reached around and cut her hands free. She rubbed her wrists, fighting the temptation to punch him in the mouth.
Ingo handed her a damp towel, and she began to clean off her face.
“I’m sorry for what happened earlier. It was honestly a bit of a misunderstanding. Let’s start again, okay?”
Thisby was silent.