by Scott Beith
“Kya, I’m going to get you to safety. But I’m not helping you betray my family,” he declared. “We need to get you out of the Capital now,” he stated while forcefully yanking my arm and ducking me down below the window ledge inside the dark pottery-filled room.
I waited for more nymphs to pass by the window before saying, “No. What we need to do is save Anara,” I insisted. More determined than ever to find out the truth and use it to save the day.
“How? Do you have a plan or are you just going to keep winging it?” he scolded.
“Cause that’s working out so well for you right now,” he then uttered, taking a small chance to peer outside and scout for the bright torches of the villagers amidst the blue darkening chaos of quickly approaching night.
“No, But that’s why I need to see Camilla.”
“I’m telling you, she won’t help us,” he repeated.
“Her son and husband have been taken hostage,” I persisted. “She will want to help us. Arlo, you and I can save Anara, if you trust me.”
He looked at me with deep consideration, opening his mouth to speak just as a loud wrecking ball collision struck and bounced him into the side wall. A living moving stone boulder uncurling out from a ball as Ode stood before us, scared that he’d accidentally killed his prince in a blind roll downhill, only to turn and look to me unsurely, as if he were trying to recall what he was supposed to do upon actually finding us.
He seemed to remember and began approaching me with ominous squinting eyes. “No, Ode. Wait! Wait!” I shrieked in a scared whisper, the sound of his crash no doubt grabbing the attention of all outside, who would come to inspect the damage.
I raised my hands up in surrender, keeping them open in a peaceful advancing approach while still trying to keep myself away from the view of the above window sill. He paused, hesitating from action as he stood there with his smiley smooth gnome baby face.
“I need your help Ode, will you help me find Camilla?” I said to him, scared but hopeful he would trust me, considering all the time we’d spent together when we were children. “Remember back to when we used to play hide and seek, it’ll be just like that,” I added, making him smile, grateful that he remembered me and was simply too innocent to be enslaved by the propaganda of Milena and her insidious command.
He nodded his head and curled back into his rolling pinball, as with a final kick of both legs he push and dived through the back walls of the pottery shop, loudly crashing himself into each connected neighbouring brick housing flat thereafter. He had already ploughed his way through a long series of cheap estates, making a long series of small man-sized circular crawling holes for us to pursue after him.
Arlo and I had found a way to move off the streets and out of sight, the prince sluggishly trying to keep up with me as we took the most physically direct downhill path towards the storm water gates and under-city chasms we knew we would be our best chance of escape within.
Eventually, we ended up outside of the houses and back onto the flat open alley streets for the final stretch towards the high stone city walls. Most volunteer village soldiers were looking up at the moon with terror, only to see us appear back before the streets, many of them lucky to have been just out of the way of Ode, before Arlo and me wonkily continued to bolt downhill from beside them.
Together running the straight line gauntlet, following in the aftermath of Ode’s downhill tumble as he blasted through the city’s storm-water drains at the edge of the walls. There was a small warping bend in the bars of one drainage gate upon Ode’s heavy hole puncture as he had already descended into the dark spider undercity of our Capital – all we had to do was get to it.
Folk were quick to chase us after the sounds of the gate’s bars spilling apart. Arrows were stuffed with dried leaf matter and ignited before being fired at me from the highest perch of the flat housing roofs we came out from, while Zephyr jumped in charge of all his fellow leaping archers. The marksmen’s were taking shots from all angles, just as shards of spiky dark icicles were being hurled like glacial spikes towards us from the sidelines of one reconvening alley lane, thrown by the obsidian knight as he slid and skated downhill on a rapidly approaching intersect path with us.
The obsidian knight lived to regret that choice as Arlo merely turned planted his foot and shoulder charged him through a wall along quite severely, before running again in an attempt to catch back up with me and the last minute dash we undertook as we headed towards the irrigation tunnels at the south western wall of the castle.
I sprouted tiny mushrooms along the ground wherever I leaped, using their bouncy caps like miniature trampolines on the road to help me accelerate and jump over patriotic villagers who thrusted there homemade spears forwards in an attempt to block my approach.
In addition, I also materialised a couple of their shadows to grab and pull them down as they attempted to re-pursue. The only things I could do while trying to maintain our breathless chase of Ode.
Unable to follow Ode’s exact path, he had made puncture holes through a small cluster of carts before the gates, blasting multiple barrels stashed in that corner into splintered fragments that littered the pavement and grass, creating a blockage too rough and risky for me to humbly go over.
Instead I had to end my run with one last giant mushroom sprout that burst with spores as I struck against it, flying me over the sharp debris as I landed and rolled in one diving vault onto the grass just before the wall and after the rubble. Unstoppable as I slid sideways against the cold dew of cut lawn as I slipped all the distance needed until precisely falling in between the gap of four broken and bent bars that Ode had made on his access into the stormwater flow through tunnels. First to splash into a deep but motionless manmade stormwater trench, followed shortly after by the loud crash of Arlo, who recklessly charged through the busted wooden fragments scattered about, only to dive through the sewer entrance bars head first and fall into the same run off waterway ditch that I had also splashed into.
27
The damned
Down in still waist-high trench waters, we were both half soaked but elsewise completely unharmed. All the stained colours of conflict had been washed off us by the motionless main drainage channel that led to the inner chasms and eastern cliff-side gorge. The two of us had time to safely climb up and out of it separately as we quickly then begun scouting out our downwards journey from its flat upper canal ledges and through the vast long narrow irrigation networks of the uppermost cavern levels. Together following one of a few smaller diverting drain passageways that forked in its spillway towards the jail cells located somewhere on the uppermost levels we were on.
No one knew these hidden underground passageways better than Anara did. Unfortunately for us, though, we had to go through them without her helpful guide, keeping ourselves high up in the dry side tracks of the mucky spillways while we endeavoured to move quickly and vigilantly before the soldiers caught up to us.
“This way,” Arlo indicated, back to holding and tugging my hand as he went on basic childhood memory of where to go. His mostly uncertain directions diverting us down a second side stream we came across as we moved deeper into the lair of his family’s gloomy cellar dungeon tracks, travelling inwards towards the more structured areas of the Capital’s complex undercity.
The winding tunnels chasm cliff drop was the main stream stagnant rock waterfall to the left of us, but instead of exiting to safety, Arlo chose to follow the low risen split streams while we perilously continued deeper inland, attempting to stay on the upper level as we left the stormwater drainage tunnels altogether and moved further forwards into the dry depths of the cavernous jail precinct and upcoming prison corridors.
Based on the concerned expression on Arlo’s face, I could tell he was reluctant to trust me. But even if he didn’t believe in the search for answers, he was there beside me to help me uncover the truth and solve the puzzles we were intricately involved in.
Our paramount priority w
as to enter through the dungeons and find Camilla somewhere on the edge of the catacombs in Maxwell’s medical laboratory and work out what Midas meant when he’d referred to her as the ‘key’.
“The back way to the infirmary is on the next right, I’m pretty sure,” Arlo said, holding a much keener sense of direction and knowledge about these old forgotten tunnels than I could remember from back when we were all young and adventurous children who used to find some form of a thrill in exploring them.
I had turned my back to him for no more than a second so that I could hold my necklace light up and look down the dark dry clay passage way he pointed his head towards. Only to have him aggressively yank me by the back of my greyish-blue dress and sent me swimming straight back into the very last run off side-streams of the tunnel we had just come out through.
At least that’s what I’d thought at first. The only logical thought at the time as I spat out the stale storm water I this time managed not to swallow and watched the last of the coloured dye in my dress be washed away forever. I wasn’t hurt by it but merely just assumed it had to be him that did it—who else could have done it when the tunnels appeared empty enough? But as I came out of the tiny river. I looked for him as I tried to regain my sense of direction, only to see a quick shadow along the tunnel’s ceiling, running throughout the darkness too fast to pinpoint.
It wasn’t one of mine, it moved too quickly, stalking in fast circling strides as if it were toying with us like its pray. Feeling most safe in the water, I was terrified that it was a wild spider, but after watching Arlo spin awkwardly around with hands raised, he seemed to be less amused than he was actually afraid. It was clear that at least he had some clue to the identity of who or what it was, if not just as fazed on how to deal with it when he didn’t have his sword to protect him.
We were both caught off guard by the creature as it leapt into him from the darkness of the front of the tunnel we’d been heading down, revealing to us who the attacker actually was only as she pushed and pinned him forcefully to the wall.
Ebony had Arlo in a choke hold, one leg kicked up against his neck area whilst enlarged nails as sharp as claws were dug shallowly into his left exposed shoulder, painfully pinning him against the muddy tunnel wall.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she yelled angrily in demand of some apologetic response, glancing at me with disgust as I pulled myself up and out of the tiny mud ditch she’d had carelessly spun and hurled me into. “Don’t do this for her, anyone but her” she pleaded to her prince, moving her head to block any sight of me as she attempted to redirect his eyes to remain locked on her instead. “You owe her nothing. What kind of king would forfeit his kingdom for a cursed servant girl? You have to know that she is beyond all realm of saving now.”
“A good one,” I stated on his behalf, in between a few short and dry winded coughs, perhaps swallowing a small amount of muddy water after all as I continued to cough while moving back up towards them, too cowardly to do anything else but bicker at her from a short distance away.
“Enough of this,” Arlo ordered, remaining pinned by his future queen, “Ebony, if you were actually going to hurt me you would have done it already, now let us pass” he said to her in his own annoyed frustration, trying once again to move but only being pushed back and restrained harder the second time around. “Can you let me go, please?” Arlo then asked considerately, wielding neither the fortitude or capability to break free physically from her athletic clutches and instead leaving it to a verbal politeness and courtesy in hope she would do so.
“You know my mother told me all about her parents,” Ebony said to a shocking revelation, looking to Arlo while she continued to ignore my presence to the side of her.
“What do you know about my family?” I enquired quickly, leaving Arlo to look down the tunnelway as he tried to deduce if any more soldiers were coming.
“Yes, please enlighten us,” Arlo stated.
“Enough to know that no amount of daylight could ever purify her tainted soul,” she said to him, looking back towards me only to loosen her grip on Arlo and let him go from the cave wall. “I am sorry about you sister, Arlo,” she said to him sympathetically.
“Don’t be - she’s not dead. We are going to get her back,” I snapped to her resolutely, only to have her turn he back on me and push up closer to her prince.
“Don’t listen to her Arlo, she doesn’t have any idea what she’s doing. You keep helping her and she’ll lead you right to your grave,” Ebony pleaded toward him, the way she talked and kept her head focused on him was clingy and yet completely fearless, considering the manner of which she kept her head turned away from me, as if I was no threat to her at all.
“No Ebony, you need to listen–” Arlo said calmly.
“No, Arlo, you listen!” she shouted in a tempered outburst, cutting him off before he could explain, only to push him back to the wall and choke him incidentally. “You’re not thinking clearly, ok? And you’re not as indestructible as you might think you are. If you honestly think you and her can find your sister somewhere out there in the abyss, then I might as well kill you both now and save you from a more horrible fate… I’m not here to fight you alright – either of you,” she added to her own stuttering and emotional frustration.
“You’re already the king in my eyes, so I won’t to stop you,” she said to him. “But as the next queen, you need to trust me on this – my mother is seer, remember? And if you go with her, I have a very strong feeling that things won’t go well for you.”
“I’m sorry, Ebony, for everything I put you through,” he said compassionately, only to turn his back on her and walk away in lead with me.
“Stay,” Ebony begged, not moving from the spot she stood. “Please just stay here with me.”
“I’m sorry,” he repeated, not turning around as he continued to walk with me down the tunnel.
“You’re an idiot, you know,” she shouted to him upon our exit, both determined and upset while we continued down the dark corridor. “You’re just another idiot running right into their trap!” she yelled, remaining still in heartbreak as her voice carried down that corridor just before we turned and lost all sight of her.
Without any further distraction, we continued to walk faster and deeper into the opening dungeon tunnels, starting to rush into the more utilized candle-lit areas of the old tracks upon our backdoor approach to the infirmary. Just the two of us passing through the jail precincts that were gated with huge square iron bars abundant in all cave corners along the narrow track.
Both of us paced quickly but quietly as we kept silent in reflection upon the echo of Ebony’s fair warnings. The harsh truth about those warnings were that she was most likely right and we were indeed walking into a trap due to our one stubborn refusal to call it quits and admit Anara was lost for good.
“This way,” Arlo directed again, the two of us sharply turning his corner together unconcerned, only to walk unsuspectingly right into first few rows of jail cells that housed Midas and some of his elderly cronies.
Every corner of the dungeons looked exactly the same and we had wandered right into the confines of his jail enclosure startled by our wrong turn, catching the stray stares of a dozen white-haired pale prisoners looking to us with dread. The guards were next to notice us. Their boots, swords and crossbows rattling against the ground and their armour as they turned to attack us, confused as to why we were there, but smart enough to know by all the commotion of the war bells and panic that we were at the centre of it.
“Please stay right there, my prince,” said Adria from under her thick spiky headgear – an iron horned helmet and spiky mix of leather bone and metal in her bulky greaves and chest plate. Armour looking as if it were made to resemble a woman caught inside the tomb of an iron maiden torture device as she walked down the jail corridor and past each individual side jail towards us.
We looked to her with a certain degree of shock, she was clearly suspicious of foul pla
y from us and I didn’t think my new friendship with her counted for anything when it came to keeping to her civil duty. She was slowly raising her hand which held a mace attached to a chained roping flail as she and her guards slowly stretched for their equipment at the other end of the corridor. Our presence had surprised everyone, but the warden and her jail guards were trained well enough to know the crown had condemned us and we were being chased by the enclosing shouts of an incoming crowds.
I looked over to Midas amidst that brief stalemate and confusion we’d brought. He sat slumped down against a blank wooden bench inside the narrow corridor’s left corner cage, stripped of all material – other than a plain grey shirt and pants. He looked a little like Akoni when he was without his gold crown. The way he scratched his head and wiped his brow, while both curious and confused of our unexpected arrival, was almost uncanny to what his son would have done, given the same situation.
“At ease, where just passing through,” the prince boldly declared, attempting to down play our situation as he and I pretended to belong and attempted to walk past.
“Just hold up a sec,” said Adria politely from under her thick metal horned helmet, her hand holding a flail that dangled just besides us as she and her men blocked us from passing.
“Down here, they’re down here,” a young villager called out to others from behind us, followed by a string of flustered guards who all pulled up beside the knightly guard captain and prison warden who had stopped us dumbly beside the front passageway exit we needed to cross in order to reach the next corridor of Maxwell’s first treatment room.
She opened her mouth to speak, but before any words came out a solid bang carried throughout the chamber. A decent sized rock striking me in its ricochet as it thumped against the ground as loud as a hammer.
“Well run,” Midas said to Arlo and me, that small rock by our feet, made of pure heavy gold, incapable of knocking Adria out, but the clang against her helmet was enough to disorientate her and make her sway unsteadily, creating enough of a nuisance for Arlo to throw himself forward and push the whole cluster of her guards backwards in tumble through the door.