Then… an agonizing shriek broke the silence. There was no doubt about it. There were other people in the dungeons. There were the masters and the minions. The torturers and the tortured. Alec shivered. A cold sweat covered his whole body.
“Where on earth am I?”
This was not at all like his old travels. On previous trips, he experienced extremes of cold and heat, and even the lack of air at the top of the Himalayas, but this? This was scary. This was not at all like a dream, waking or not. All his previous experiences had been real, but in them he was a sort of... spectator, while he was also participating. Here he was right in the thick of things. The dampness was too damp. The stone walls too forbidding. The feeling of being alone in his predicament simply too oppressive. This was much too real, even for his liking.
Another shriek followed by a whimper propelled him to his feet. In three steps he was at the door. The door was not even bolted. ‘How come?’ he asked himself. Is this a dream after all? And then he remembered that until minutes ago he was tethered hand and foot in heavy irons. They, whoever they were, never imagined he would free himself. An adult evidently couldn’t. For the first time Alec was really happy that he was small. Small even for his age. With a sigh of relief he left the dark chamber.
Outside, the corridor sloped upwards, ending in a flight of steps; funny, rather small steps. As though designed by or for people as small as himself. At the foot of the flight he stopped and listened. Nothing.
He had to do something.
He climbed the stairs and arrived about eight feet higher up at a landing which extended to the left and right, only to end in two flights of stairs, each leading down. Immediately in front there was a door leading to...
There was no time to speculate. Again he heard gentle sobs and a sleepy yet painful whimper. Then silence again. Total, absolute silence.
A 50/50 chance. On instinct, he ran down the steps on his left. The door at the bottom of the flight was latched shut. At least he wouldn’t need a key he didn’t have. He raised the latch quietly. The dungeon inside seemed even darker than his own. Lying on the stone bench under the slot window was a man. A very large man. There was blood on his face, and his left arm hung loose from his shoulder. He cringed when Alec came near him.
“Easy now,” Alec whispered. “I’m a friend.”
The man looked at him half with fear, half with mistrust.
“I’ve come to get you out of here,” Alec assured him, having absolutely no idea how he would go about this salutary mission.
The man looked at him again.
“Who are you?” the monster asked.
“Never mind that. We must get you out of here.” The man did not look as though he placed much faith in Alec’s words. “My name is Alec, if you must know.” And then he added as an afterthought: “I’ve come here to free the Princess.”
“They got her, too?” The man seemed even more desolate than before.
The man knew the Princess. This might help. Of course, it might not. “Can you walk?” Alec thought they’d wasted enough time.
As the large man got up, he was half-bent at the waist to fit under the low ceiling. He staggered, sat down, and got up again. He obviously was much weakened by his ordeal but almost obediently moved, albeit slowly, towards the door.
“Do you know who your torturers are?” Alec asked over his shoulder.
“Of course,” the man talked with a rasping voice. “It was them little ones. It always is. They can’t stand us big’uns. They’re jealous. That’s what them is.” Then he added in an even quieter voice, “I thought you was one of them, at first.” The words, albeit not very grammatical, came at a flood. He seemed to feel better after they spilled out.
“This way, up the steps.” Alec led the way.
“They gave me that drink to drink and it was poisoned. They tortured me, an’ there was nothing I could do. No strength. I fell down them steps. No strength at all—the little bastards.”
“Why do you keep saying how small they are?” Alec wanted to know.
“They are no bigger than you’s.” The man nodded to himself. “Only uglier. Much uglier.”
Alec preferred not to ask how ugly he was himself. His mind was already working on saving his Princess. She must be down the other steps. There was no other way he could have heard both, the man’s whimpers and the Princess’ sobs. At the top of the landing, he told the huge man, still doubled up to fit under the ceiling, to wait. That’s how he must have fallen down those steps, by hitting his head on the ceiling. Poor sap, Alec felt genuinely sorry for such a big man with so little initiative.
He ran down and pushed the door. Sandra was lying on the stone bench, rather like the man had been, but she hardly covered half of it. Her face was hidden in her hands. She was crying quietly.
“Princess...?” Alec was sure it was she. As sure as he was that he would save her. Whatever the cost. Even if it cost him his life.
***
“Thirty!” Alex Senior announced, making sure that most people plastered to their deckchairs around the pool could hear. His tone sounded as though he’d just conquered Mount Everest. This probably also accounted for him being considerably out off breath.
He looked down on his wife stretched out on her stomach, her bra unpinned, her body allowing the sun to caress her sinuous back.
“And I didn’t even raise a sweat,” he added. He continued eyeing his wife who hasn’t stirred since she’d finished her second Bloody Mary.
He leaned over the edge of the pool, and grabbed a handful of water in his cupped palm. Then, without another word, he began dripping it on her back. Alicia’s shriek raised the heads of a dozen guests.
“I’ll get you for this,” she hissed, her voice halfway between amusement and annoyance.
“Now or later?” Alex asked.
She rolled over on her back, nearly forgetting about her unfastened bra.
“I see it’s right now,” he bent over her.
“Don’t you dare touch me with those wet paws,” she warned. Then her tone changed. “Would you fasten me, darling?”
He did.
“Good swim?” she asked. All seemed forgiven now.
“Why don’t you try for yourself?”
“I can’t,” she replied, a wistful expression on her face.
“It’s that time of the month coming?” he asked in a whisper.
“Don’t be silly, darling. You forgot last night?”
“Then…?”
“It’s my hair, sweetheart. I couldn’t possibly get it wet!”
Her previous patrician hairdo, or had it been Nefertiti’s, disappeared. Instead her hair was hanging loosely, straight down as was popular among the select 90% of women. She only just had it straightened out.
“Of course,” he sounded humble. “How silly of me…”
He beckoned a boy for another Bloody Mary. He’d earned it. Their cabin might have been small, but after all, the pool was an Olympic size pool.
***
Very slowly, Sandra raised her face. The tears ran down her cheeks, yet the smile of recognition illuminated her face. The whole dungeon seemed brighter.
“Alec, oh, Alec!” she cried, running into his arms.
Now this wasn’t funny. Thirteen-year-old boys do not take girls into their arms. Never! It is an unwritten law of boyhood. So Alec just stood there, only gently pressing Sandra to his meager chest.
“Now, now,” he tried to console her.
He knew this was the right thing to say because he’d seen it in a TV movie only last week. All too quickly Sandra recovered. Alec was prepared to suffer her embrace a little longer, for her sake, of course. Nevertheless, she pulled back.
“How did you find me?” she asked.
“Later,” he admonished in his most masculine voice, which wasn’t very masculine at all. But Sandra obeyed anyway. “Follow me,” he added in a loud whisper.
He led the way to the door and then let Sandra pass him. He n
eeded time to think. What on earth was he going to do? He had two people to save and no idea how to do it. The little ones, whoever they were, might be back any moment. A second later Sandra was back in his arms.
“What happened?” he asked in a whisper.
“There is a monster up there. A very large monster!” She pressed herself into Alec’s body as though trying to get to the other side of him.
“He’s a friend.” Alec smiled for the first time. “I got him out of his cell, too.” The look of admiration in Sandra’s eyes was more than Alec could hope for.
“You freed him?”
“Well, he was drugged and couldn’t walk. I think they expected him to sleep for a few hours yet.”
The monster’s face cracked in a hideous smile.
“Princess!” he rumbled.
He tried to stoop even lower to pay her homage and almost fell down the stairs. He would have pinned the both of them to the stone floor. Probably broken all their bones.
“Igor?” Sandra asked incredulously. “Is it really you?”
“Yes, Princess. A bit worse for wear.”
Suddenly his heavily accented speech had become completely normal. Almost refined. Alec supposed that one must speak well in front of the Princess. It is only proper.
Sandra ran up to Igor, for that was indeed his name, and fell into the huge man’s massive arms. She was good at falling into men’s arms, Alec thought. Maybe a little too good? And then he heard the familiar giggle. He bit his tongue.
“Do you know the way out of here?” Sandra asked. “Alec saved me, but I’m not sure he knows the way...?”
“Yes, Princess, right through that door.”
“Hold on!” Alec commanded. “How do you know that there are no bad, ah, little ones out there?”
“Well, there may be, but I’m not drugged any more. I’m not afraid of them when I’m myself.”
“Let me go first, then.” Alec was still in charge. Igor obediently took two steps back down the other staircase to allow him access to the door. Alec pushed the door’s heavy metal handle but the door hardly moved.
“Here, let me. After all, you did save me,” Igor said behind his back.
And as Igor reached over Alec’s head and pushed the thick wooden door, Alec literally fell through. He caught himself on the very edge of the settee. Igor and, what was worse, Sandra were both gone. He was alone in his living room. He looked around just to make sure he was really here and alone. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He decided to lie back a while and think about his adventure. Dream or not, he had saved Sandra. Or so it seemed.
5
Hello Again
It seemed like only yesterday. At the time Alex Baldwin was still living in Harlow, just north of London, UK, of course. Having passed A-level exams in a number of subjects, he and his buddy George Sims, shared digs close to the QMUL School of Engineering on Mile End Road, where he’d eventually obtained his civil engineering credentials.
England is, or at least was at the time, deprived of her fair share of sunshine. Each summer he and George waited patiently to hitchhike south, to the French Riviera. More precisely, to Mandelieu, just west of Cannes. East of Cannes, sequestered in their voluptuous villas overlooking the Méditarranée, were the fat cats. Cap d’Antibes, Juan-le-Pins, all the way to Monaco was the rich people’s playground.
He and George stayed in tents, on canvas cots with straw mattresses. An array of showers and toilets offered necessities some hundred paces off. They ate outdoors under a thatched roof, where wine was cheaper than orange juice or coca cola. To get to the seashore, the beach, they walked about three or four kilometers, often running part of the way.
At the time he had been only a little older than his son was now. About seventeen? He thought the Camping offered the peak of luxury. He wondered if his son would agree with him. Alec Junior has been brought up to expect a swimming pool right at the doorstep, and an oceanfront he could get to in two minutes flat. Without running. It wasn’t that his son was spoiled. Times have changed. Times and geography.
There and then, in Mandelieu, they would lie down on the sand and got up only for a swim, or to go back to, what used to be called, Camping International de Cannes. It had nothing to do with Cannes, of course. Cannes was for the wealthy. Still is.
After dinner they would go hunting.
Lots of game was ready and willing right there, on the spot, in the female portion of the Campground. With luck he or his buddy would score. Such successes were at the expense of the fellow who shared your tent. The poor bastard had to spend the night outside, or at least wait until the fair sex sneaked out to her own domain. More often then not, however, the hunt proved fruitless. Those were strange times when most of the girls thought that sex was something one enjoyed only after the wedding ceremony. Luckily, some did not.
Times change.
And now, Alicia and he were resting on very comfortable, padded deckchairs, sipping Bloody Marys, and getting very close to being bored stiff.
He wished Alec didn’t have to attend school; that he could have come with them. They would have played some games, kicked a ball perhaps, thrown a Frisbee. Or even just played together on the oncoming waves to see who could surf closer to shore on the breakers. That’s what they did last year, during summer, but coming here during summer was not the same. And in summer he was really busy at work.
Actually, this year there was a near permanent black flag displayed, denoting a shark warning, and the Portuguese Men o’War made even walking on the beach on the risky side. Their venomous tentacles could well deliver a painful sting.
Pollution, they said in the hotel. Too much pollution.
Nevertheless, he did take a walk, alone, along the shore. And… he did get stung. Back at the pool he went to the public washrooms and tried peeing on his sore toe. It had absolutely no effect, other than making room in his bladder for yet another Bloody Mary.
That helped a lot more than the pee.
On his return to the deckchair, this time he kept Alicia company a little longer. Yet, after being fried in the Florida sun for some twenty minutes, he got up and plunged into the pool. Alicia followed him, slowly, at the shallow end. She had to be careful. As ever, she couldn’t get her hair wet. It just wouldn’t do. Hanging straight down, half-blinding her left eye.
Noblesse oblige, her husband mused, but he couldn’t understand her qualms. He realized there and then that in as much as he loved his wife more than ever, he also loved her not just for but also in spite of a number of things. Her hair rituals, her shoes, even her insistence on treating his son almost like a baby. Or was it a number of quirks? Whatever anyone might call them, he couldn’t imagine life without her.
But mostly it was for her smile. No matter how tired he was, her smile set him at peace. Always.
***
Alec Junior must have dozed off for a few minutes. When he came to, a whimsical smile was playing about his lips. He was reasonably happy with his performance. He remembered every detail. He had been afraid, but he had overcome his fear. He hadn’t run to save himself but had risked his freedom, perhaps his life, to help others. So what if it had only been a daydream? It takes just as much guts to act in the real as in the imaginary world. He remembered waking up covered in sweat after some of his previous adventures. And today was no different. But what was most important, he had actually met Sandra. Sandra—his Princess. He couldn’t think of her in any other way but as his. Of course he had no claim on her, none whatsoever, but... he had saved her.
He was her knight.
She was more beautiful than he ever imagined. That is, than when he half-saw her in the mirror and the dark pane of glass. Her hair was long and golden. Pure gold. Perhaps all Princesses have golden hair, but it didn’t matter. His did, and that was enough. She was just a little shorter than he, but just tall enough to fall into his arms comfortably. He blushed at the recollection. And then he tried to remember what her tiny, lithe body felt like
against his. And then he did remember, and he blushed again.
He went to the kitchen and got himself a glass of water. He came back and sat in dad’s favorite armchair. It swung to and fro, it spun around, and you could lie completely flat on it. It was quite a chair. He sat down, released the back support and relaxed. He wondered if Sandra would ever come on another of his jaunts. Gosh, she was beautiful. Her eyes shone like little stars. Her face and hands seemed to fill the dungeon with an eerie light. Like moonlight from a full moon. Alec desperately tried to think of other things. Not a chance. His thoughts made a loop and came back to Sandra. He wondered why.
“I told you.” He heard her distinct voice. He fought the desire to sit up and look around and managed to keep perfectly still. “It’s all right,” her voice smiled. “I’ll stay a while. After all, you did save me.”
For some unknown reason there was a chuckle at the end of that assurance. A chuckle much too close to becoming a giggle. Alec was a little hurt.
“I’m sorry,” she assured. “I really am very grateful.” And when Alec still remained gruff, she added, “You behaved like a real gentleman. Like a knight in shining armour. Really!”
Alec relaxed again. “Thank you, it was nothing.”
“Saving me was nothing?”
“That’s not what I meant!”
He really had no idea how to talk to girls. They always twisted everything and got the better of you.
“Did you enjoy the adventure?” she asked innocently.
Alec had seldom, if ever, enjoyed anything more in his life. It wouldn’t do to admit it, though. She would be bound to laugh.
“No, I wouldn’t. I would be flattered.”
“Can you read all my thoughts?” Alec was becoming exasperated again.
“Pretty much,” her voice smiled again. “Only if they are not bad ones. Those I can’t, but I can sense them all.”
“Is that when you go away? I mean when I have bad thoughts?” he asked.
ALEC: An Action & Adventure Fantasy Novel (Alexander Trilogy) Page 4
