Verboden saw Tirnalth’s raised eyebrow. “You see, Verboden,” the wizard said, “there is hope.”
Verboden kept his eyes shrouded in his hood.
Chapter Seven: Grotham Keep
“There is Grotham Keep.” Verboden was pointing through trees at a hill in the distance.
The castle on it, abandoned and silent, was shrouded in mist. It was a simple structure, square with thick walls and towers at each corner. As they drew near it, they saw that it was intact and in good shape for a building long uninhabited. To Alfred it was impressive. He could see the inner keep. He read it was the main enclosure that must have housed all the important people long ago.
“It was a modest yet strong fortress for its time,” Verboden said as they approached. “It was built by King Grotham of olde, long ago, before the downfall of man.”
Alfred breathed excitedly, trying to keep up. “Is there anyone inside?” he asked.
Verboden and Tirnalth began the ascent to the castle on an old road. Verboden looked about. “No, it is uninhabited.”
“What about monsters?” Alfred gulped at the thought.
Verboden and Tirnalth froze and glanced at each other. “Oh, I don’t know,” said Verboden. “I have not been here in years.”
“Perhaps I should go first,” Tirnalth said. “It does seem I have one power. I am but a ghost.” Tirnalth winked and then faded in and out of view. “Nothing can touch me that I will.”
Verboden put an arm out to restrain Tirnalth. “I do not wish to take that chance, not with you, not after so many years. I have some powers. I will go.”
Tirnalth floated hazily through his arm.
“Could I have a weapon?” Alfred stepped forward showing his small bare hands. “I’m probably not any good, but at least I could help.”
“I have none but my staff,” Verboden said, lifting the large heavy stick. “Maybe we will find something in the castle, if there is anything left.”
“Then let us all go,” said Tirnalth, floating forward. “We shall confront together whatever may lurk inside.”
“If you are a ghost, Tirnalth, you could be the decoy!” Alfred raised his idea finger, double-stepping to keep up.
Tirnalth chuckled, “Yes, that sounds like a good idea. I will flail about as Verboden dispenses with his powers of conviction!”
“I have more than that at my disposal, old man!” Verboden twirled his staff and spoke magical sounding words.
Strength upon us
Light upon us
O domme rai
Vee bede mohn
“Oh cool! Was that a blessing?” Alfred wondered if anything was different, “Am I glowing?”
“It is a blessing,” Verboden said, rolling his eyes, “to give you strength and courage!”
“Alrighty!” Alfred's skip was a bit bouncier. “Now just find me a sword! And a shield! And a rocket launcher!”
“A what?” Verboden's brow furrowed as he marched forward.
“Ah hah!” said Alfred with a crimson blush. “I was just kidding. “A sword and shield would be great.”
Verboden and Tirnalth nodded in agreement and continued up to Grotham Keep.
“No... I mean it.”
The castle walls were made with large stones. Gray mold had grown up through the mortar in geometric webs. Gray rotted wood beams stuck out from the walls at odd angles. At one time a wooden hoarding or roofing hung atop the battlements. There was an eerie feeling in the air, as though the silent stronghold was anticipating and awaiting their visit.
Verboden and Tirnalth led the way through the decrepit gatehouse, a structure containing a rusty portcullis. This defensive gate was retracted up within the stone wall.
Alfred swallowed and walked slowly under the enormous gate. Knowing that it could drop down at a moment’s notice, he could not keep his eyes off of it, especially the rusty spikes. He peered up and felt dizzy. The split second during which he was passing under the black pointed spears seemed like an eternity. As he moved forward, his head angling around to keep his eyes on them, he became disoriented. Thankfully, nothing happened.
Blinking and shaking off the shivers and strain, he leveled his contorted face back to normal and looked about. The courtyard was filled with rubble. In the center of it Alfred saw a statue of a king, fallen, lying headless, sprawled across a broken fountain and cobblestones holding scattered pools of murky water. Dark weeds and vines were everywhere, much of them seeming to have grown and died and then grown over themselves again and died.
Suddenly Alfred realized that Verboden and Tirnalth were nowhere to be seen. He spun about, wondering how they could have vanished so quickly. Though the courtyard was littered with stones and broken structures, he could see in all directions. “Tirnalth? Verboden?” he whispered anxiously.
At last he heard their mumbling voices, echoing from a place just beyond the fallen statue and a large pile of rocks. He sighed in relief as he skipped closer. In the countryside he had been curious but safe. Here, inside this precarious place, his curiosity was being undone by fear.
Verboden was pointing out the entrance to the inner keep. Its door was gone, and wood and stone lay about. “When Gorbogal defeated the Lord Knights, she began her siege of King Athelrod's realm,” he said. “She besieged this castle with her goblin horde. Most of the knights were gone, so the king’s personal guard and men-at-arms defended these walls. It was then that you, Tirnalth, forsook the king. Or at least that is what he believed. His daughter had fled with the renegade knight and… he lost all heart to fight.”
Verboden turned to see Alfred standing close and peering down at old dry pieces of gray wood. “Why is the door broken outwards?” he asked.
Verboden and Tirnalth looked at the destroyed door. It had been bashed from the inside out. Most of its pieces lay scattered near their feet.
“That is an interesting observation, Alfred,” Tirnalth patted Alfred on the head. “Perhaps there is more to the siege of Grotham Keep than we know.”
“Gorbogal is not one to let up on tricks or treachery,” Verboden said.
Just then a fluttering of shadows crossed overhead, and wings folded upon Alfred. He felt a painful grip on his shoulders and heard a ghastly screeching sound that paralyzed him. Verboden, unaffected by the horrible scream, quickly swung his staff. A flash of light burst into the air, blinding Alfred and whatever was above him. The talons loosened their painful grip on his shoulders, and he fell to the ground.
“Har!! Hahr!! Foul flyer!” Verboden cried, swinging his staff about as Tirnalth rushed to Alfred.
The boy was frightened and stunned. His shoulders throbbed. “Just some scratches,” said Tirnalth, dusting him off. Alfred nodded as a cold sweat flooded his dirty face. Then, unexpectedly, the pain ceased, and Alfred felt able to stand without assistance.
Alfred glanced at a shoulder. “I am glowing!” he exclaimed. The radiance faded as he rolled his shoulder around.
Verboden continued swinging and jabbing his staff upward at a horribly ugly beast. It was a gangly white-skinned gargoyle with long sharp talons on squat, muscular limbs. It had the face of a humanoid bat and was hairless save for a few scrimps of scraggly fur. It screeched a loud wail that brought shivers down one’s spine. Alfred would not be surprised if that scream had some cursed properties to cause fear and paralysis. Another winged beast screeched and swooped down just as Tirnalth yanked Alfred to the ground with himself.
“Watch your back, Verboden!” Tirnalth cried out. Then he shouted, “Come Alfred! Let us seek cover!” Yanking Alfred along through rubble with surprising strength, Tirnalth reached one of the towers. A small door led into a tower through thick stony walls.
“We’ll be safe in there!” Tirnalth said, out of breath.
Alfred was not so sure. There didn’t seem to be any safe place in this land and least of all in a decrepit tower in a keep. He remembered that Tirnalth had no memory. “Are you sure we will be safe in there?”
T
irnalth mumbled, “Oh, I don’t know now. I just felt that was the proper thing to say, to comfort you.”
“Oh great!”
As they hurried through the tower doorway, Alfred stopped. Tirnalth yanked at his hand, “Now what’s the bother!?”
“Ah, I’m stuck! I think!” Alfred was being held just inside the doorway. “Something is caught!”
Tirnalth turned to look. Alfred seemed to be swinging in midair while peering at Tirnalth, who looked oddly veiled or shrouded. Tirnalth looked sideways at Alfred. “What is that? What are you doing?”
Alfred tried to look about, but with each movement he felt restrained. He tugged repeatedly, bewildered, trying to get free, saying... “It’s… It’s… It’s…” Finally he was able to identify the thready creation holding him captive. “It’s a spider web! A really big spider web!”
“Oh my! That can’t be good!”
Chapter Eight: Afraid of Spiders
“You got me stuck in a spider web! I can’t believe this!” Alfred kept tugging to no avail.
“Shouldn’t you be quiet and stay still?” said Tirnalth, putting finger to lip and glancing about in the dark.
Alfred froze in fear. His eyes darted around as his body swayed slowly back and forth. The web spanned upwards, receding into the dark tower. The sound of claws scraping on stone reverberated above, as did the twang of the taut web being pricked. These sounds grew louder and louder.
“Tirnalth, help!” Alfred couldn’t believe this would be his end. He suddenly felt empathy for bugs.
“I… I… I don’t know what to do.” Tirnalth shrugged and fluttered his arms.
“You have to cast a spell!” Alfred fought every nerve to not freeze further from utter terror.
“I can’t! I don’t remember any!” Tirnalth put hand to forehead and squeezed his temple. Alfred again tried pulling at the web to get loose. Then, looking up into the darkness, he saw two large glowing red eyes peering at him. Just below them was the glint of two enormous fangs. Several other dark shapes appeared from various spots along the web work. Oh no! There was more than one!
“Tirnalth, help!”
“Back, you things! You spiders! Shoo!” Tirnalth yelled with an underwhelming aggression.
Several spiders were visible, each the size of a large crab, each carefully feeling its way downward on eight prickly limbs. Tirnalth’s yelling seemed to work. The spiders backed away. “Can you get out now?”
Alfred tugged but still could not free himself. His movement was causing its own twanging on the web, as if calling the spiders back. Realizing no harm had come from Tirnalth’s shouting, the spiders began to move closer.
“It’s not working. They’re coming back,” Tirnalth said nonchalantly.
Alfred stopped moving. For the last few moments of his life, he could scream till they got him, or he could find a way out. He decided to calm down and think. And then it came to him. “Tirnalth, I want you to feel fire.”
Tirnalth, confused, put his hand to his ear. “What?”
“Fire!” Alfred cried. “I want you to feel fire!”
“Fire? I tell you I can’t cast spells. I don’t remember.”
A large spider was just above Tirnalth's head ready to pounce on him.
“Not remember, feel it! Hurry, you must feel it! Think fire! Just feel it!” Alfred gritted his teeth as he glanced up at several spiders carefully approaching him with red glowing eyes. They made a snip-snip scissor-like sound with their fangs.
“Oh right. Okay, let me… feel… fire!” Tirnalth nodded, furrowing his eyebrows. Then the spider above him leaped upon him, swinging in the air, swishing in and out of his ghostly image.
“Hurry!” Alfred cried, trying desperately to pull away from the spiders encroaching upon him.
“I don’t think it is working!” Tirnalth moaned. The spider swinging about him managed to pull itself onto the webbing and then leap again, but it caught nothing of the ethereal wizard as it folded its limbs and continued to swing.
“Do you remember the fire at Verboden’s cottage?” said Alfred, still tugging helplessly.
“Oh yes, that was a wonderful fire,” said Tirnalth. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen or even felt the warmth of a fire.” Just then he began to glow.
“Yes! If you could put your hand in and feel it, it would be very very hot, right!?” Alfred did everything he could to avoid contact with the picking, poking spiders.
“Oh, quite so!” Tirnalth said. And with that the spider trying to catch him caught fire and screeched horribly as it fell to the stone floor. “Oh, sorry!” Tirnalth stepped back. The flame, surrounding him like an aura, torched the web and quickly moved upward. The spiders around Alfred leapt from their spots to avoid the fire, but it spread fast like -- well, like wildfire!
Of course, this put Alfred in a worse situation – trapped in a burning web! Thrashing around, he suddenly broke loose and fell to the floor, with small pieces of lit webbing cascading all around him. As Alfred crawled out of the doorway, Tirnalth quickly followed still aglow, bursting spiders and webs in flames.
Alfred freed his legs from the remaining webbing and leapt out as Verboden was still fighting off the pair of gargoyles. Fortunately, with small flames coursing across his tattered garb, Alfred stumbled over the small fountain wall and fell into the pool of murky water. The spectacle of this and the sight of Tirnalth rushing after him, a glowing aura of fire, were more than enough to frighten the gargoyles. They flew off in dismay.
As Tirnalth bent down to raise Alfred from the muddy water, the cloud of fire surrounding him subsided. Verboden gazed behind them at the tower, smoke rising from each hole. “Did you do that, Tirnalth?”
Tirnalth looked back surprised at the plumes of smoke and fleeing spiders. “Oh my! Is that what I can do? I must be a great wizard!”
Alfred rolled his mucky eyes.
From the broken doorway they peered into the main keep. It was dark and musty. Verboden held a torch he created by impaling a glowing spider, courtesy of Tirnalth’s conjured fire. It created a warm orange light in the vast space of the inner keep. The large entrance hall was surrounded by a balcony. Columns ran along each side, holding up the balcony walkway encircling the hall. In the back was a toppled throne.
The group advanced further into the Keep to view the rubble, trying to determine what happened so many years ago. Behind the throne was a huge hole littered with rock and debris.
“Something must have come through there!” said Alfred, pointing at the dark ominous hole, tiptoeing closer to look down without getting too close.
“Yes, something came through,” Tirnalth said. “So, they were attacked from below as well.”
“So that was Gorbogal’s deception! She used ratkins.” Verboden tipped over a small ratkin skull with his staff, and it fell into the hole. They heard it land quickly, not far below.
“Ratkins?” Alfred asked.
“Yes. Ratkins are vile vermin, the scourge of the underworld! They are large viciously crazed rat men that can scurry through small openings. When enough of them gather together, they can quickly dig their way through anything. Look here. These scratches are from thousands of them that must have poured in.” Verboden pointed to what at first looked like foot worn stone. When they looked more carefully, however, they could see that the stone was forever etched with the scrapings of hordes of rat feet.
“Are they still here?” Alfred asked, stepping behind Tirnalth.
Verboden looked about at the multitude of tracks leading to all parts of the Keep. Then he stepped precariously to the top of fallen rocks to peer into the cavernous hole, pushing his torch into the gaping darkness below. “No. This all happened long ago.”
Alfred sighed.
“But there appears to be something else down there!” Verboden stepped back as huge black limbs protruded from the opening. It was another spider, the mother of all spiders. Its limbs were as thick as tree branches, and it had the hair on its append
ages sticking out like spikes. Its many black eyes were far more evil looking than those of the previous spiders. With each of its steps sounding like a heavy thump, it brushed aside large stones and rubble. As its enormously bloated body pivoted up through the opening, the creature looked ready for a new feast or two or three.
Verboden immediately cast a new blessing upon his friends, pronouncing their resolve while casting doubt into the behemoth arachnid.
Lord of light, give us strength
courage and might.
Lord of light, cast doubt
into the foulness that rises
the foulness within our sight!
The spider appeared poised to pounce. Saliva and froth dripped from its black scissor-like fangs. If it landed upon any of them, it could easily crush them. But it hesitated and retracted for a moment, looking at them with hunger.
Verboden raised his staff, ready to strike. “Its stomach is much stronger than any spell I can conjure to repel it!”
The great beast lumbered forward again.
“Tirnalth, think fire again!” Alfred was unsure if he should run, scream, faint, or all of the above.
“Oh, yes, of course!” Tirnalth furrowed his eyebrows and made an odd pose. Immediately the aura emanating from his being caught fire, and the flame ran along his silhouette.
“Ouch!” Alfred stepped back, – on the opposite side of the giant spider, of course!
The lumbering beast moved about, striking at Verboden, avoiding Tirnalth’s torch-like aura. Verboden used his staff to deflect the spider’s strikes and to pivot away from it, rolling and leaping, narrowly escaping the wild stomping of the spider's heavy limbs.
“Tirnalth, charge the spider! Catch it on fire!” Alfred stumbled backward in the rubble, away from the heat.
“Right! Here we go!” At first, Tirnalth hesitated, trying to remember how to charge. He then rushed forward. The spider was surprisingly quick for its size, easily scaling large columns to avoid the flaming aura, yet becoming noticeably frustrated, hissing and chattering. It loathed the idea of expending such energy on what seemed easy prey.
Alfred: The Boy Who Would Be King (Alfred the Boy King Book 1) Page 7
