An armoured pair of Draik guards were patrolling the
corridors on their nightly rounds. As they trudged along, they spoke (as all
night guards inevitably do) of various personal trivialities, in part so that
they would not fall asleep (again, as all night guards inevitably do).
“You don’t say, Jonas? Locked you out of your
own house just for coming home late?”
“I tried to tell her Mordeo’s got us workin’
these horrible hours, but she just don’t listen! I tell ya, Robert, if it weren’t
for the pay that chubby lizard’s givin’ us…”
“Hey, hey! Cool down! You ought to watch what
you say around here. I don’t like it any more than you do, but there’s nothing
we can do about it. Besides, I hear there’s spies everywhere. If Mordeo ever
heard what you just said…”
He stopped for a moment and cocked his head to
one side.
“What is it…?” his companion started to ask,
but was cut off by a wave of his claw.
“Shh…” he said, listening hard. “I thought I
heard something.”
Now they were both interested. Very carefully,
they turned the corner in the direction of the sound and looked. The torchlight
from an adjoining hall a little ways down flickered upon the walls, and a trio
of hunched shadows were very briefly visible. Their words were only indistinct
whispers, but by the tone of them they sounded quite important.
Robert motioned to Jonas and quietly mouthed
the word ‘spies.’ Jonas nodded, and they both crept as quietly as two fully
armored guards could conceivably do, making their way to the intersection where
the three spies were conversing. Now they could hear tiny snippets of a hushed
conference.
“… again just why we had to bring the jar?”
“Don’t worry about it, Kithar. Just trust me.
It’s very important to our plan….”
There was a stifled bout of laughter, as from
somebody who knows something that somebody else does not know and who does not
intend to tell them until whatever it is that’s so darn funny happens.
“Stop that laughing, Merlod. Do you want us
to get caught?”
“It’s not really that funny, you know….”
The quiet giggling faded. “I know, I know… but
I just can’t wait to see the look on her face.…”
“Whose face?”
“You’ll see….” More laughing.
Jonas and Robert exchanged confused glances.
This did not appear to be typical spy behaviour.
“Wait a minute…” the first voice said. “I think…”
Before the guards could take another step, a hooded figure in flowing purple
and gold robes slid into the hallway, facing the two. It glared from under its
hood with glowing yellow eyes. “…we have company.” Its sinister eyes seemed
to smile maliciously. It took a resounding step forward.
“Hello boys…” it boomed in a voice that made
the room feel suddenly bigger than it was. “So glad you could join us. You know,
curiosity killed the Kadoatie.”
Another booming step.
“Though, you look more like Draiks.”
Step. Boom.
“But the same principles should apply, anyway,
don’t you agree?” Before they knew it, the figure was right in front of Robert.
“How about you first?” It waved a hoof gently over his eyes. They rolled back
sickly into his head, and he collapsed in a ringing heap of armor and scales.
The figure turned to Jonas. He shut his eyes,
turned, and took off flying the other way, his legs motoring frantically despite
the fact that they were not touching the ground.
Kithar removed her hood, revealing her rather
pleasant Kau features. She crossed her arms and pouted. “Drat! I let one get
away. How incredibly careless of me!”
Luparn and Merlod were busy examining Robert’s
prostrate body. “Kithar,” Luparn began, “you didn’t actually…?”
“Oh, no, he’s just hypnotized. Probably dreaming
about… shining his armor, or whatever it is castle guards dream about. I’d be
more concerned about that guard who got away. We’re really in for it now.…”
“Not exactly,” said Luparn. “If my guess is
correct, then being found might be just the thing we want right now. Come on!”
He waved them on. “We have to get to the dungeon quickly! Which way, Merlod?”
The old wizard consulted his maps. He pointed
down the hall to the right. “The stairs should be that way.”
* * *
“INCLEMENTA!”
The Light Faerie groaned inwardly. What did he
want this time? “You beckoned, oh sonorous one?”
“Inclementa, one of my guards has just informed
me that there is an evil horned and hoofed demon loose in the castle, and it
just attacked Roberts. Is this another one of your 'inter-dimensional portal
miscalculations'?”
She frowned. Hooves… horns… ah, yes.
“No, my liege. Just a noisome pest that needs
to be exterminated.”
She disappeared.
image by Frostcrystal
* * *
“Okay… second door… on the left… should do it,” Merlod enunciated between
gasps as he ran.
Luparn turned left and grasped the door handle.
It wouldn’t budge. Bracing himself against the opposite wall, he pushed off
and slammed shoulder-first into the door. It splintered.
“Well hello there, my little hero.”
Inclementa stood before the rows of cells, staring
eye to eye with the young Lupe. Before he could draw his sword, she raised her
hands to the ceiling and spread her claw-nailed fingers wide. Cascading beams
of shimmering light surrounded Luparn, and his legs collapsed beneath him.
“What an unexpected turn of events,” she gloated,
savoring every word. “Once I return you to King Mordeo, nothing will stand in
his way. Meridell shall make its march against the Lost Desert, and the great
secrets of the Sakhmetian pharaohs shall be mine! Then, not even Queen Fyora
or that filthy prophetess Jhunedra can stop me!”
Luparn smiled weakly. “You… haven’t won yet….”
“Ah,” said Inclementa with a touch of surprised
admiration. “So you still resist my spells enough to speak. You’re very persistent.
But I know exactly what you’ve got up your sleeve, and it won’t help you.” She
called into the hall, “You can stop hiding now, Madame Kithar! I know you’re
out there!”
Exposed, Kithar walked into the room. Her eyes
shined with defiance.
“Well, well,” Inclementa smiled smugly. “Jhunedra
was wise to send you along. They say that in dire circumstances, a true seer
can dictate another’s fate. Theoretically, you could tell me to disappear within
the next five seconds, and it would happen. If so, you could quite possibly
end this whole fiasco right now just by telling me to get lost. I wonder if
that’s true….”
But Kithar was not listening. She knew what had
to be done. Her eyes had glazed over, her countenance had gone flat, and she
began speaking in the words of the Fates. “Pythia sum, in me Manus verbaque
Regentium omnibus latuntur, fatuntur te iacta esse in aeterne carcer dolore.
Sicut sum fata, fia—”
Her last word was cut short, as Inclementa pointed
one long finger at her and the Kau suddenly clutched her head in pain as she
was lifted into the air by the Faerie’s magic. “Silly little Kau,” she said.
“Did you actually think I’d let you try your little fortune telling tricks on
me? Ha! ‘Cast into an eternal prison of suffering’…. What nonsense! I shall
take great pleasure in watching you perish along with the rest of your little
friends.…” She motioned to the huddled remains of Sarkif’s forces strewn about
the cells in chains. “In fact, I think I’ll start watching it right now.…” The
demented Light Faerie redoubled her spell, her eyes shining evilly. Kithar’s
cries of pain were silenced, and her writhing began to slowly subside.
Luparn clenched his jaw. Something was glowing
red from within his pocket. It was the scarab.
His brother was with him. A sudden surge of strength
arose in him, and, coupled with Inclementa’s distraction, it was all he needed.
Everything happened in a flash. His father’s
sword was in his paw before he knew it. Turning the blade, he sent a shower
of reflected light straight into Inclementa’s face. Blinded by her own radiant
magic, she dropped Kithar in shock as she attempted to shield her burning eyes.
Still clutching her head weakly, Kithar whispered
the last word of her incantation, “…fiat…” and then slipped into unconsciousness.
“Now, Merlod!” screamed Luparn, and the Aisha
charged into the room, the small, seemingly innocent glass jar in one paw. Inclementa
had only enough time to utter “Wha--” before the aged wizard touched the bottle
to her skin. There was a magnificent flash, and then the room went dark, save
for a faint glow coming from the bottle.
Merlod swiftly placed the stopper in the mouth
of the jar and peered at Inclementa, who stared pitifully back at him from inside.
“For some reason,” he said to the bottle with a bittersweet grin, “I thought
I would laugh when I saw you like this. But now, it’s not very funny any more.”
Luparn looked at the pathetic Faerie trapped
in the bottle. “What a twisted little soul you have, Inclementa. But I’m sure
even that will find some use on Merlod’s shelf.” He turned to his elderly companion.
“I’ll free the prisoners. Go see to Kithar, and be quick! When Mordeo discovers
what we’ve done, he’ll waste no time in hunting us down. We must be out of the
castle long before then!”
Merlod nodded and stashed Inclementa in one of
his various pockets, but not before commenting on her possible function as a
reading light for late night studies. He knelt down before Kithar and looked
through his robe for a potion that would help her.
Meanwhile, Luparn began hacking at the locks
with his sword, and it wasn’t long before he had all the prisoners freed. Amidst
the cheers, Luparn heard a familiar voice calling out his name. He turned and
saw none other than Sarkif pushing through the crowd, his eyes bright with tears.
“Luparn! I can’t believe it’s true! I had thought
you dead for certain!”
“Father!” cried Luparn in shock and surprise.
The two embraced. “I feared the worst when I learned what had happened.…”
“Thank the faeries you were away when it did,
my boy. But we must save our celebrating for later. Right now our priority is
to get out of here as quickly as possible!”
“But my lord,” one of the soldiers cried in
protest, “should we not make our attack and take the castle? Surely we have
the element of surprise on our side.”
“What would we fight with?” Luparn countered.
“Have you all forgotten that you have been relieved of your weapons? And Mordeo’s
troops greatly outnumber us. No, our only hope is to retreat for now, and wait
for the opportunity to strike. But when we do strike, it will be on our terms!
Mordeo’s forces will be defeated! And Meridell shall be restored to its former
glory! This I swear upon the sword of my father, Lupold, the one true king of
Meridell! We will have victory!” He drew his sword and held it aloft, the blade
shining in the dank room. A chorus of cheers arose, but Sarkif only stared in
astonishment.
“You know?” he gasped. Luparn turned to his
adoptive father and smiled, and that was all the explanation he needed.
“I know a secret way,” Sarkif said. “It’s a
hidden door in a storage room down the hall. It was designed so that the king
could escape in case of danger. It leads directly into the forest. I know a
place there where Mordeo will never find us. We can wait there until your brother
sends us some reinforcements, which I’m sure he will now that Inclementa has
been dealt with.”
Merlod slowly hobbled up to the throng, supporting
a semiconscious Kithar. “She’ll be all right,” he assured everyone. “Ah, Lord
Sarkif! I’m glad to see you’re all right. I’d bow but….” He motioned to Kithar.
“We’re taking the emergency exit in the storage
room,” Sarkif explained.
“I see,” nodded Merlod. “Going to wait out the
storm in our little safe haven, are we? How very ironic.” He chuckled.
“Why is that ironic, Merlod?” inquired Luparn.
“Well, to put it simply, lad, we’re going to
see your parents.”
To be continued...
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