by Mark McCabe
In any event, these two draghar, as they called themselves, were clearly trained and experienced fighters. Any plan that involved overpowering them would be a desperate if not a foolhardy one. Added to that was the fact that she had little idea of anything about the place she was in beyond a brief glimpse of the room she had arrived in and her cell. For a short period then Sara despaired, though she quickly snapped out of it. She reminded herself she had to try something, she couldn’t give in.
The plan she finally opted for was both a desperate and a dangerous one. It wasn’t just a matter of her chance of success; she knew that was slim, but she also knew that failure might have its own sting. Ruz and Tug wouldn’t take kindly to an attempt at escape. If she didn’t succeed, she could end up much worse off than if she did nothing at all.
Then she realised that wasn’t possible. How could she be worse off? They had killed the girl she had seen. She had to risk something or that would be her fate as well. It was no use waiting until she could think of the perfect plan. She knew if she didn’t act soon Golkar would come for her and that would be it. Game over, as they say.
There was in the end then, no real choice. The plan she had settled on was the best she could come up with and it would have to do. At least its greatest virtue was its simplicity. She knew it would have to be executed flawlessly, though, and she went over it again and again in her mind, trying not to think about the fact that, no matter how well she performed, luck would have to be on her side if she was to have even the slightest chance of success.
That night, when she went to bed, Sara said a final prayer. “Please God,” she whispered in the darkness. “If you are there, if there even is a God, please help me. I know I haven’t always been the best person, but I don’t think I’ve been so bad as to deserve this. Please help me get out of here.”
After that she went through the plan again, going over the weak points. There were many. What if they didn’t do what she expected? What if they changed their routine? What if she froze up and couldn’t do it? And then the big ones. What if there were other people in the house she didn’t know about? There might be many of these draghar. And if she did get away, would she be able to find her way out of the building she was in? Would she run into Golkar? And what would she do if she did get out? Where is out and where would she go?
Slowly, and methodically, Sara went through her answers to each of these problems. First up, she knew her plan had flaws but she had already established she had to try something. If they didn’t do as she hoped they would, she would just have to improvise. Her coach had said she was good at that, ‘a good tactical thinker, quick-witted and inspirational’ he had once written on her report card at school. If Ruz and Tug changed their routine she might just have to wait till another day. As to her freezing up, that was simply not an option. She would do what she had to. She had no choice.
She knew there was a possibility that Ruz and Tug weren’t the only ones in the house other than Golkar. In all of her time there she had not seen anyone else, however, and all of her attempts to find out more on the subject had been either deflected or ignored. As to finding her way out, she was just going to have to trust to instinct and luck. Sure, she had no idea what would happen when she got out, or even where in the hell she was. One thing was for sure though, out had to be better than in.
It was some time before she could get off to sleep. She knew that the next day she would be either out of there or in even deeper trouble than she was now.
Sara sat nervously on the edge of the bed, waiting for Tug to arrive with her breakfast. She had woken early, anticipation of the day better than any alarm clock. Quickly preparing as morning light filtered through the grate, she had then had to sit and wait, tense and apprehensive, going over her plan and psyching herself up as she did for a big basketball game. She was as ready now as she would ever be. As she leaned back, trying to appear calm and relaxed despite her anxiety, her right arm firmly grasped the wooden strut she had prised loose from the end of her bed. She felt her heart rate increase as Tug’s footsteps approached the door. She held her breath as she heard his key turn in the lock.
Tug gave Sara no more than the casual glance she usually got as he swung open the door. Stepping into the room, he moved to place the tray of food on the table beside her bed, exactly as she had expected. As he turned and bent, Sara sprang into action, adrenaline fuelling her effort. In a flash she was up off the bed, swinging the club down towards his head.
Quick though she was, Tug was even quicker. Somehow sensing the unexpected movement behind him, he quickly turned, spying the lump of wood in her hand and ducking under it in one deft movement. Grabbing Sara’s arm and spinning her around with ease, he twisted her wrist painfully up behind her back, wrenching the makeshift club from her hand as he did so.
Sara struggled futilely as Tug wrestled her towards the bed. It had all gone wrong. She couldn’t believe she had been thwarted so abruptly. With her arm twisted painfully behind her and frustration fuelling her anger, she desperately tried to kick out at Tug with her legs, succeeding only in catching the food tray and scattering its contents against the wall and onto the floor of her cell.
“Ya filthy little grink,” Tug snarled from behind her as he brought her other arm up, holding them both behind her. “I told ya I’d make ya pay if ya tried anythin like that again.” As he spoke, he lifted her twisting body off the floor and pushed her from him across the bed.
Sara lashed out at him with her flailing legs as she fell, but once again Tug was too agile for her. Laughing, he dodged her foot with a quick jump in the air, shoving her away from him as he did so.
Not quite as clever as he thought though. As his feet came down, one skidded out from under him, catching the angled edge of an upturned bowl instead of the firm floor. With his other foot still in the air, there was nothing he could do to regain his footing. With a shock, Tug found himself reeling backwards, unable to stop his fall. His arms, which had released the struggling girl as he had flung her across the bed, desperately reached out for something to grab onto as he went down.
Sara heard a loud crack from behind her as she hit the bed. Turning around quickly to defend herself from the onslaught she expected from her enraged captor, she could, at first, see no sign of Tug. Then, peering down over the edge of the bed, she was amazed to see his prostrate form flat on his back on the floor. His eyes were closed and he lay there unmoving. The remnants of her breakfast were scattered about him. It was then that Sara noticed the smear of blood on the edge of the table. Tug must have cracked his head on it as he went down. Sara’s pulse raced as she realised that he was unconscious.
Quickly jumping up from the bed, Sara bent over the body, gingerly removing the knife from the sheath at his belt with her trembling hands. At any moment she expected him to open his eyes and reach up and grab her.
As Sara stood up, with the knife secure in her hands, she wondered if there was indeed a God. She had thought her plan doomed before it had even begun. Then, as quickly as it had turned against her, the pendulum of luck had swung back her way. She still had a chance. It was as she had expected though, she thought grimly, it was all or nothing now. Tug would certainly make her pay for this if he ever got the chance.
Stepping over his body, Sara peered out into the corridor, noticing the keys to the cell still dangling in the lock beside her. Seeing no sign of Ruz, she stepped out of the cell. Quickly, but silently, she pulled the door closed behind her.
Her cell was at the end of a short corridor. Only a few paces away, at the other end of the corridor, was another door. There was no choice now. She had to open that door and hope that Ruz was not there waiting for her.
Sara took a deep breath and tried to quell her trembling limbs. Pushing herself into action again, she crept up to the door as stealthily as she could, bending and putting her ear to the wood as she reached it. Though she couldn’t hear a thing, she wondered if the door was simply too thick to hear through it.
Seeing there was no lock on the door, Sara ever so slowly twisted the handle and eased it open a fraction, just enough to peek through. Still nothing but silence from the space beyond. Unfortunately, she couldn’t see much either. It was a room of some kind, that much was clear, but she wouldn’t be able to see much more unless she opened the door right up.
Sara felt her muscles tightening, locking up. Her mouth felt dry. She had to make a conscious effort of will to keep going, to override the fear that threatened to immobilise her. As slowly as she could, she eased the door open. She held the knife ready in her shaking hand. She was as scared as she had ever been in her life. Maybe Ruz wouldn’t be there. Maybe he had gone out for a while. Maybe, and maybe not.
Sara heaved a sigh of relief as she saw that the room was empty. It looked to her like some kind of guardroom. In the centre was a table and four chairs. The one closest to her was pushed back, like someone had gotten up to go somewhere and was coming back soon, she thought. On the table, a big saucepan with a ladle beside it looked like the source of more soup. A mug of steaming liquid sat beside it. In the far corner of the room, she could see a pot-bellied stove with a flue disappearing into the ceiling. Beside it sat a dozen or so faggots of wood, neatly stacked. A metal jug with cloth wrapped around its handle sat on top of the stove. Two more doors, one opposite the one she stood at and another on the wall to her left, led out of the room. As Sara stepped inside she wondered which one led out and which one led to Golkar or Ruz.
Once again, she moved quickly to each door, listening for any sounds that might indicate what lay beyond them. Like the door that she had entered by, neither of these appeared lockable. Simple handles were the only mechanism that she could see from her side.
Before Sara could commence a more detailed inspection of the room, she was startled by the sound of a door closing. It had come from somewhere beyond the door opposite the one leading to her cell. She realised it might be Ruz coming her way. Like a fool, she had been too busy checking out the room to prepare for this eventuality. In a panic, she rushed over to stand behind the door, thinking she might catch whoever it was off-guard as he entered. Her mind raced. She knew that wouldn’t do. She had to have the element of surprise or she would have no chance at all. As she repositioned herself against the wall on the opening side of the door, a flash of inspiration came to her.
Sara dashed across to the table and grabbed the mug of steaming liquid. A moment later, she had resumed her position, flattened against the wall with the mug in one hand and Tug’s knife in the other. She took some deep breaths to calm herself again. A few moments passed and she was beginning to wonder if it was a false alarm when she suddenly heard the sound of approaching footsteps, not far from the door.
Sara held her breath as the door opened and Ruz stepped into the doorway. Once more, she was quick off the mark. In the instant that Ruz turned his head towards her, she brought up her arm with the mug of steaming liquid, flinging it directly at the surprised look on his face. Although Ruz instinctively raised his arm in protection, she was too quick. The scalding liquid caught him full in the face. With a cry of agony, he flung his head back, his hands coming up in a belated attempt to cover his scorched skin.
His face had caught the hot tea full on. Although his eyes closed reflexively, the scorching liquid splashed across his cheeks and forehead. Then, even as his hands were still coming up to his face, Sara swung round with her other arm. The knife that she wielded caught Ruz in the centre of his exposed stomach, burying deep within him as she swung at him with all of her strength.
In horror, Sara released the knife and stepped back. As she did so, Ruz slid to his knees, his hands now scrabbling for the weapon buried within his vitals. Removing the bloodied knife from his stomach, he desperately attempted to crawl towards her, one hand clutching at the gaping wound, the other blindly groping for her in his agony. “Kill you . . . you . . . now,” he grunted through his pain as he shuffled towards her on his hands and knees.
Backing away and looking around frantically for something to defend herself with, Sara found herself up against the table. Her hand grabbed the back of a chair for support. “Get away from me, you animal,” she hissed as she grabbed the chair beside her and, in a final moment of rage, brought it crashing down on his head. Ruz slumped to the floor with the shattered remnants of the chair littered about him, one bloodied hand stretched out towards her, the other twisted awkwardly beneath his prone body.
Sara scrambled away from his body, unable to believe what she had done. Although she couldn’t take her eyes from it, she wanted to put as much distance between them as she could. An air of unreality hung over the scene before her. She had stabbed him. Just like a cold-blooded murderer. Just like them.
Somehow she willed herself to get a grip. Although she could feel the emotion seething within her, she knew that she couldn’t cry now. There might be time enough for that later. But not now. This wasn’t over yet.
Tearing her eyes away from Ruz’ body, Sara picked up the bloodied knife and thrust it under her belt. Moving to the open doorway, she peered out. Surely she had made enough noise to bring the whole house down on her by now.
The door opened on to yet another corridor. Taking a deep breath, Sara inched her way as silently as she could, down the corridor and away from Ruz, away from the horror she had just undergone. A left-hand turn brought her to yet another door. Once again she paused to listen, with her ear plastered to the door.
Easing this door open, just as she had done with the previous one, she was relieved to find yet another empty room. This one seemed to be part of the living quarters. It was a large room with a big open fireplace, around which sat two big lounges and some smaller chairs. On one side a wide staircase swept up and out of sight to another level. More doors to who knows where were a worry to Sara. More importantly, however, a window beside the fireplace provided a glimpse of trees and the sky.
Quickly rushing over to it, Sara could see a path leading away from the house through a small clearing and disappearing into the woods beyond. The house looked as if it was surrounded by forest. Fir trees clustered thickly not far from the house. The path, which was wide enough for a car, if they had such things here, led in a sweeping arc past the entrance to the house and looped back onto itself. It was rutted on each side, not unlike the old country roads Sara had seen back home.
Without a further thought, Sara rushed to the door and opened it, beaming with delight when she realised she was free. As she raised her foot to step out into the open air, she suddenly felt her feet pulled out from under her.
Crashing to the floor, she looked back in horror to see Tug with his arms clutched at her ankles as he struggled to pull her back across the threshold. Sara screamed. He had fallen to the floor himself but his bloodied hands had her legs in a strong grip. He was moving, uncertainly and slowly but nonetheless relentlessly, pulling her back towards him, one handgrip at a time. He had a large gash on his forehead and she could see blood matted through his hair and streaming down his face.
Grunting unintelligibly in her fear, Sara fumbled for the knife she had slipped under her belt. Desperately she slashed at his wrists and hands, producing a groan as he loosened his grip. In a flash, Sara struggled clear of him and was up and running. Out the door and down the pathway she flew, a momentary glance across her shoulder showing no sign of pursuit. That didn’t slow her a bit, though. Sara ran. She ran as if her life depended on it.
Chapter 3
The surface of the mirror hanging on the wall of the wizard’s study rippled as Golkar emerged, feet and hands first followed by his tall, lean frame. It was as if he had stepped through a wall of mist into clear air. Golkar quite enjoyed the sensation he felt at that moment of transition and wondered idly if Tanis had savoured it as much as he did.
He now knew Tanis had mastered a variety of exotic means of transit. The Spell of Portal might have been his piéce de resistance, but mastery of mirrors was a little
gem in itself. He could see why the mage had succumbed to the predilection. With it as his passport, it was anyone’s guess how many worlds away he would be after all these years. Not that this concerned Golkar. Tanis’ departure had after all created the opportunity he was now so busily exploiting.
Still, he did find it curious that the mage had left his diary behind. He’d worked so hard to tidy up all the other loose ends, training the Guardians, establishing the Council, and so on. It was very unlike him to have neglected something as important as his diary, particularly given the wealth of information it had contained. Although Golkar had puzzled over this for some time, he was no nearer an answer now than he’d been in the past. He could see no point in continuing to dwell on it.
Looking around his study, Golkar satisfied himself he had all that he needed. Having completed arrangements with Grartok, the slig leader, he was ready to act. It had taken him some time to recover from his strange encounter with the otherworld creature, but he was ready now for the final phase of his plan. The weeks he’d spent propped up in bed had given him the time to conclude the arrangements. He’d kept his two minions busy running errands and attending to business he couldn’t deal with himself and had taken advantage of the time available to review Tanis’ notes, finally deducing what had happened between him and Sara.
Strangely enough, it was turning out even better than he’d planned. Although the latent power that he now knew resided in the girl staggered him, the opportunities it presented were enormous. To the girl it was useless, but to him it was priceless. Unfortunately, he’d not initially guessed its true strength, or how easily it could be brought forth. He would need to be careful, to be sure, but now he was alert to the danger it should prove easy to harness. The most important thing would be to not drain her too quickly. He’d need to keep her alive as long as possible. Golkar suspected that Tug would be happy about that.