by Alison Pensy
As soon as everyone had gone, the castle was blanketed in an eerie silence. It was now dark outside, made even more noticeable by the fact that the bright lights suddenly dimmed, casting ominous shadows everywhere. Faedra gathered her nerves for the task ahead of them.
“Much as I hate to say this, I think we are going to have to go into the dungeons. It’s probably the oldest place in the castle, so I think it will be a good place to start,” Faedra whispered as she looked up at the signage on the wall. “Looks like they’re down that way.”
Her feet dragged a little on their way down the corridor where the site map had shown the dungeons to be located. Dungeons by their very nature were dark and damp and she didn’t relish the thought of exploring one after hours. They found the entrance to the dungeons and Faedra followed her Guardian down some steps and through a door. The musty smell that greeted her nostrils indicated they’d arrived at their destination.
There were no lights on and even her energy balls weren’t bright enough to light up the foreboding, all consuming blackness. In fact, the glow from her balls seemed to make matters worse as they cast an eerie light over torture implements and chains that hung from the walls in the first room they entered. She gave an involuntary shudder.
“There must be a light switch in here somewhere,” she said to Faen who was brushing his hands along the wall searching as she spoke. They stepped into another room and the dank musty smell grew stronger. Faedra could make out low arches with bars imbedded in the stone, creating tiny cells. Behind one set of bars she could distinguish the silhouette of a mannequin sitting on some straw on the floor. It was just a little too life-like for her liking. Behind another row of bars there was a set of shelves that were home to six death heads. Wax castings of the faces of people who had been executed. She shuddered again realizing these molds were of actual people who had been hanged for some terrible crime they’d committed in the past.
She looked for Faen who was still trying to find a light switch. “I don’t think there is one down here, it must be up in the security guard’s room. He probably controls all the lighting from in there. I will go and sneak in and turn it on.” He moved to leave.
“You’re not leaving me here on my own,” Faedra stated and turned to follow him.
“Well, that’s just bloody charming, Stafford. Looks like our company’s not good enough for the little lady,” a gruff voice echoed through the darkness.
Faedra froze. “Who said that?”
Faen stopped. “Who said what?”
“You didn’t hear that?” she asked.
Faen shook his head. “Hear what?”
“Hey, Stafford, the little lady can ‘ear us, we can have some fun with this one,” the gruff voice spoke again.
“Faen, tell me you heard that.” Faedra said.
Faen shook his head again.
“Someone is down here.” She moved her palms around in the darkness trying to see if anyone was there but all she highlighted with her blue orbs were the death heads behind the bars. It was then that she noticed the name inscribed on the stand of one of them, Stafford.
Faedra swallowed hard and leaned in for a closer look.
“What you doin’ down ‘ere, anyways? This place closed up a while ago. Oh, good Lord, don’t tell me you’re one of them nut jobs that wants us to scare ‘em half to death all night?”
Faedra jolted upright and took a step back.
“Oh, don’t look at us like that, we ain’t gonna hurt ya.”
There was a soulful groan.
“Oh, cheer up, Stafford. Would it kill yer to be nice and live a little?”
A more educated voice retaliated. “How can I, you idiot? I’m dead. Killed way before my prime, I might add.”
“Well if ye hadn’t gone an’ raped and murdered that young girl you wouldn’t have been executed, now would ya? So don’t call me the idiot, you grumpy old sod.”
Faedra looked aghast at the death heads that were having a conversation with each other right in front of her eyes.
Faen nudged her on the arm, making her jump, “Can you still hear someone talking?”
“Yes, it’s those guys.” She pointed to the death heads that were now arguing amongst themselves.
“Unsavory looking characters,” Faen mused.
“Hey, watch who you’re calling unsavory, pretty boy.” Stafford grouched.
A wry smile curved Faedra’s lips “He wasn’t happy about you calling them unsavory,” she told Faen.
The death heads carried on with griping amongst themselves. Then Faedra had a thought. Maybe they could help her. They must have been here a while, maybe they saw something. She cleared her throat in an attempt to get their attention.
“You’ll have to excuse Stafford, girlie, he’s a grumpy old buggar at the best of times, but then I guess most murderers are,” the gruff voice said.
“So which one of these heads are you and why were you executed?” Faedra asked. She thought that people only got executed for being a murderer and, therefore, assumed they had all been murderers at one point.
“Pardon me, where are me manners? Hardyman’s the name, up here on the top shelf, far right. All I done was a little bit of fraud, that’s all. Nothing major and they strung me up for it. Lived in the wrong era that’s what. Wouldn’t get more than a few years nowadays, I bet.”
Faedra raised her eyebrows, she had to admit it was slightly surreal having a conversation with a talking wax head.
“Anyway, little lady, you din’t tell us what you’re doin’ down here.” Hardyman asked.
“I’m looking for something. It was probably hidden a long time ago and I guessed this would be the oldest part of the castle, so I thought the dungeons would be the best place to start looking.” Faedra explained.
“Ah, now that’s where you’d be wrong. This part was built a long time after the original part of the castle, so that pretty tour-guide tells everyone several times a day. People think this is the oldest part, but it ain’t. Wasn’t built till the 1200’s see, and only then as a storeroom.” Yet another voice joined the conversation.
“Did anyone ever tell you you’re a bloody know it all, Thomas?” The voice Faedra recognized as Stafford grouched again.
“Don’t mind them, luv. What is it that you’re looking for?” Hardyman asked.
“An egg.” Faedra answered.
“An egg?” a chorus of voices replied.
Faedra sighed. “Yes, an egg. It’s a dragon’s egg, if you must know.”
“Now I know you’re pulling my leg.” Thomas said. “Everyone knows dragons don’t exist.
“Really? Well, I’ve just been nose-to-nose with one and he wants his egg back. I’m the one who has the honor of finding it so that I can borrow something from him in return.” Faedra wasn’t quite sure why she was explaining everything to a bunch of criminals, a bunch of dead criminals, at that.
Silence fell in the dungeon and, after a moment, Faedra decided to continue.
“Look, apparently this dragon lost the egg in a bet with a guy called Ralph De Gael. He used to own the castle about nine hundred years ago, so if you know what part of the castle is the oldest, it would help me out.”
Silence continued for a moment. Faedra sighed at the lack of response. “Come on, Faen, it’s obviously not down here. We’ll have to look elsewhere.”
They turned to leave.
“Hey, hold up, little un’. We was just thinking.” Hardyman broke the silence followed by some moans of agreement from the others.
“Molly might know.” Thomas piped up.
“Good idea, Thomas! Molly gets to wander all over the place; she might be able to help the girl out. Molly! Hey, Molly, you about?” Hardyman called.
A moment later, a lady’s ghostly white head poked through the stone wall behind the bars where the death heads sat.
“What is it, Hardyman? I’m busy,” she said.
“Busy? Busy doin’ what exactly?” Hardyman retorted.
“None of your business. Now what do you want?”
“This young girl is looking for an egg that old Ralphy hid in his time and we thought you might be able to help.”
Molly turned to face Faedra and her stern features softened when she saw her.
“Well, well. She can see us?”
“Seems like it.” Thomas replied.
The rest of Molly’s body floated through the wall and then through the bars until she was standing before the wide-eyed Custodian.
“Well, I’d say you are in luck, little lady. Just so happens that one of Ralph’s kitchen boys lives here, as well. There’s a good chance he may know something about this here egg of yours. We’ll have to go up to the keep though, he died long before the dungeon was built, can’t come down here. Follow me.”
Molly floated off in front of Faedra and Faen. Faedra turned to the death heads before she walked out the door. “Thanks.”
A chorus of ‘you’re welcome’ and ‘don’t mention it,’ rang out as they exited the dungeon.
They followed Molly up one set of stairs along a corridor and up another set of stairs.
“Do you mind me asking why you’re here?” Faedra asked as they wandered down the corridor.
“Executed for killing my drunken abusive husband,” she stated nonchalantly. “Much good it did me, I might as well have let him finish the job, coz I didn’t get to live much longer after I’d killed the old sod, anyway. Funny old world, really.” At that point Faedra thought Molly was speculating more to herself than talking to Faedra.
They followed her up another set of stairs where she stopped at a set of heavy wooden double doors.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Molly’s misty apparition disappeared through the door. A moment later she stuck her head through the wood and said with a hint of irritability “Are you coming? I haven’t got all night, you know.”
Faedra gave Faen a look of astonishment, then realized he couldn’t see Molly.
“She wants us to follow her through the door,” Faedra explained.
Faen obliged and leaned forward to open the door for them. They stepped through it into the immense keep of the castle. Suits of armor were on display and the subtle lighting cast menacing shadows in their wake. There were medieval weapons of all descriptions adorning the walls, and various exhibits of how the castle would have looked when it was originally built. The inner walls of the keep were made of rougher hewn blocks of stone, unlike the newly renovated outer wall. This is what Faedra imagined a medieval castle should look like. A wooden balcony jutted out about half way up the wall and stretched all around the inner wall, allowing visitors to wander round and look through the tiny slits for windows. They moved a few paces further into the room, and with every footfall were greeted with a groaning creak from the wooden floorboards below them.
Faedra’s attention was brought back to the here and now when she heard Molly calling out.
“Oswulf, Oswulf, you about, lad? Show yourself. You got visitors.” Molly said in a calm soothing manner.
A moment passed and no one appeared.
“Lad’s a bit shy,” Molly explained before trying again. “Come on lad, they aren’t here to hurt you. Young girl needs a bit of help, is all.”
Oswulf appeared behind Molly and cautiously leaned to the side to look Faedra and Faen up and down with scrutiny.
“Oswulf, come on, lad, I told you they won’t hurt you.” Molly cooed again.
Faedra caught Molly’s attention. “What is it, luv?”
“He’s behind you,” Faedra whispered not wanting to scare off the nervous looking boy.
Molly turned around with cautious steps, obviously not wanting to startle the boy, either. “There you are, m’boy.”
“You called, M’lady Molly?” Oswulf whispered.
“Oswulf, this young lady wants to ask you a question about the time when you lived here.”
Faedra noticed Oswulf swallowed hard before he took a step toward them. Molly moved to one side out of his way. The young kitchen boy was dressed in ragged, worn clothing. It looked like nothing more than sack-cloth adorned his body. His skin was dirty from his face down to his bare grimy feet and Faedra wondered if he had ever seen a bath.
“Yes, M’lady,” Oswulf addressed Faedra.
Faedra smiled in an attempt to calm his nerves. “Oswulf,” she spoke softly, “I am looking for something that was given to your master, Ralph De Gael. It was an egg, a dragon’s egg to be precise, so it would be about this big.” She gestured with her hands the approximate size of the egg. “Did you ever see it?”
Oswulf shook his head “No, M’lady.”
Faedra’s shoulders slumped. She looked around the mammoth keep of the castle and wondered how she would ever find it, or where to even begin looking. A moment of silence enveloped them as Faedra’s desperation grew.
“But I do remember his Lordship acting very strange one night,” Oswulf said.
“Really, what did he do?”
“Well, it was one winter’s eve. I remember that because I was glad to get the spit-turning duty that night. It was about the only way I could keep warm in the winter. It was late at night, probably early morning, as I could hear everyone snoring around the castle. I noticed that it was odd because his Lordship came in and ignored the guards that were sleeping on duty. Usually if that happened he’d have hauled them up and given them a whippin’ but he crept past them as if not wanting to wake them up. Now that I think about it, he was carrying something under his arm.
He didn’t pay me any heed, mind you. The only time he did that was if I fell asleep at my post, then he’d tan my hide. I watched him cross over to the well then he threw his leg over the side and shimmied down the bucket rope. I could hardly believe my own eyes. Only the lowest kitchen boys go down the well to sort out any problems. I was so surprised that I left my station to peek over the side of the well to make sure he was all right.”
“What did you see?” Faedra interrupted.
“Nothing,” Oswulf replied.
“Nothing?”
“It was too dark, I couldn’t see anything, but I did hear a scraping sound like stone on stone. I didn’t wait to see the master come back up. I went back to my station and continued turning the spit. He would’ve been angry to see me away from my post and, the last thing a lowly kitchen boy like myself wants to do, is anger his Lordship. A few minutes later, he comes back up and he doesn’t have anything under his arm anymore.
Not long after that, the castle was besieged and his Lordship went to get help, leaving M’lady to defend the castle. Now she may be the most courageous woman I’ve ever seen but defending a castle against an army is not woman’s work. She was able to make an agreement with the enemy, though, and they let us go.”
“If they let you go, why are you still here?” Faedra asked, curiosity getting the better of her.
“Not long after we left, we went through a village that had the pox. I got it and that was the end of me. Then I turned up back here, never have figured out why.”
Oswulf led Faedra and Faen over to the well. They all looked down and could see the tube of stone disappear into the belly of the earth. Faedra groaned. The opening to the well was at floor level and had long been covered over and sealed off by a strong metal grid that allowed people to stand over it and look down, if they dared. It was also popular to drop money through the grates and make a wish. Right now, Faedra doubted her wish would come true as she could see no way of getting down there.
“Faen, I don’t think my energy is strong enough to blow up this grate, and even if I could, it would probably make so much noise the security guard would be here in a flash.”
“What do ye want to be blowing it up for? There’s a gate downstairs,” Molly chimed in.
Faedra’s eyes lit up “There is?”
“Well, how else do ye think they’re going to get the money out? Those steps over in that corner take you downstairs. You can get in the we
ll that way.”
Faedra took off running to the corner of the keep, Faen followed. She took the worn stone steps two at a time and jumped the final ones, hitting the hard stone floor with a thud. It looked like a basement down there. There were ruins of the original stone pillars that would have once held up the castle, more exhibits, and a metal grill with a gate making up half of the well wall. She ran up to it and gave the gate a tug and almost screamed with exasperation. It was locked with a heavy-duty padlock. She took the padlock in her hands and rattled is against the bar.
“Aarrgh. When is someone going to give me a break?” she yelled as she let go of the lock in disgust. She put her hands around the bars, rested her forehead on the cool metal and peered down into the belly of the castle. A chain hung down the middle, she assumed it was attached to the bucket that collected the coins. She could only see a few feet of it before it disappeared into the darkness of the well.
“It’s down there, I just know it is,” Faedra whispered to herself.
Faen crossed over to her and placed his hand on her shoulder. She felt his warmth through her clothing, from there it snaked its way straight to her heart. She turned and looked into the eyes of her Guardian. No words were necessary; she could see the compassion flowing from those deep pools of blue. After a moment, she dropped her head and rested her forehead on his chest, trying to clear her mind and think of another way to get down the well. He felt a crackle of static as her skin touched his chest. He raised his hand and stroked her hair, knowing that was one of the best ways to calm her energy.
“I know where the key is,” Molly said.
Faedra turned towards the friendly ghost, not moving away from Faen. “You do?”
“Yes, it is in the control room. All the keys for the castle hang on a board above the security guard’s desk. They’re all labeled so it shouldn’t be too hard to find.”
