by Blair Drake
“In the back seat,” he said, pointing to Dylan and Woli. “And make sure they are secured. He’s from Gray Cliffs.”
Woli and Dylan looked at each other. Terror filled their eyes. Dylan knew there was something off about this man they called King Riata.
“Wait, I thought you were going to help us,” Woli said as a cat soldier wrapped its claws around her arm and dragged her out of the car.
Dylan was sure he heard the cat purr and say, “She smells delicious.”
He climbed out of the car on his own. When he looked around, he thought he saw the bumper of Strix’s car sticking out of the moat. Another cat grabbed him before he could make a run for it.
Run for it. He almost laughed out loud. Where would he run to? He didn’t even know where he was. He shoved his hands in his pockets. Wrapping his hand around the talisman Hettie gave him, he felt a warmth. He thought, don’t let me down, keep me safe, and he swore he felt the pin vibrate.
“Take them to the jailer,” Jervis said.
Dylan jerked free of the soldier. “Wait, you said you’d help. You were going to help me get back to Gray Cliffs, help fight off the darkness.”
King Riata threw his head back and laughed so hard the ground shook. “You silly young boy. You’re no smarter than your silly father was at your age. Nothing would make me happier than to never see another rat from Gray Cliffs again. If you never make it back, they can’t send another.”
“But…” Dylan started to say.
“And did you think your elementary lippy ways were going to work on a king? I didn’t become a king by submitting to the whims of a lippy.”
Behind him, a delicate voice said, “No, you became a king because you were born into it.”
King Riata turned to see the woman who spoke. “Portencia, my dear.”
Portencia? That wasn’t the queen’s name.
The woman who hugged Riata a little too tight and a little too long wore an ostentatious dress. The lavender corset was tight, and the hoop skirt gigantic. Copious amounts of mint green, pale pink, and silvery white fabric draped in layers. Pink rosettes dotted the border of the top layer of fabric, and the large gigot sleeves were worn off her shoulders. A detached, sheer, flouncy collar wrapped around the woman’s throat.
On her head, she wore a crown, only this crown bore large silver wings on either side. And when Dylan looked close, he saw a second set of wings on the woman’s back.
Dylan blinked. He had to look away. He felt an energy drawing him to her. She had the same large eyes and painted on brows as the king, but her features were delicate, with a tiny nose and cupid’s bow lips, where his features were harsh, large and flat.
“You brought me some toys,” she said.
“I did,” King Riata said in a proud and beaming voice.
“Your bride will enjoy the company.” Portencia turned a pirouette and headed back into the palace. “Take them to the back of the property.”
And with that, she was gone. She hadn’t walked through any door, she just vanished.
“Who was that?” Woli asked.
She had more nerve than Dylan, who wasn’t going to say another word. He was still getting over the embarrassment of having thought he’d told the king what to do.
“That is my dear and beautiful sister, Princess Portencia.” His look of longing was a little creepy.
“She lives here with your queen?” Woli asked.
King Riata snapped his fingers. “You ask too many questions.”
Jervis slid over to the driver’s seat of the car. He was within inches of Dylan at that moment. “I’m sorry.”
Dylan tried not to look at him, but his eyes moved. Jervis did look sorry.
“Don’t look at me,” he hissed. “Just find the queen.”
“Jervis, are you talking to this lippy?” King Riata snapped.
“Yes, Your Highness, I told him to pull his pants up. He looks slovenly and ridiculous.”
The king nodded. “He does. He’s an embarrassment to that academy, isn’t he?”
“Just find her,” Jervis said.
To the soldiers, King Riata said, “Take them away. I’m going to have a meal with my lovely sister.”
With that, the two cats dragged Woli and Dylan around to the back of the palace, followed by the other soldiers. As if they were going to run. There was no way out. No way without magic, anyway. And how were they going to use magic if it was blocked by the wards?
“Why aren’t there golems inside the palace? They are bigger and stronger than you cats are,” Woli was defiant and struggling against her captor.
“No magic. Golems are magic. We are soldiers, no magic required,” the cat said. Then he sniffed Woli’s hair. “You’d be delicious. Too bad you’re not going to be flogged in the public square...or maybe you will.”
Woli jerked away. “They haven’t done that in centuries.”
The cat holding Dylan said, “They can always start again, and we’d get to devour the remains.” Dylan heard him purr.
The walk around to the back of the palace was beautiful, and Dylan had to keep reminding himself they were prisoners—prisoners in this old-fashioned puke pastel place. He wanted to start over, to sincerely apologize to Henry with. To never stop at Professor Tully’s house. Better yet, to never go to the headmaster’s office.
Had the professor set them up? Had he lied to them about the king? The stories he told of the king and his queen, how magic made her sick, seemed real. But somehow, after the king kidnapped them, he didn’t think this was true. And Jervis didn’t seem so loyal after all. Or was he just playing a game. Find the queen? How was he going to do that from a cage?
He’d never broken the law in his short life. When he was about five years old, his father drove him to the local juvenile hall and took him for a tour of the inside. He explained their lives and their hard labor, and then and there, Dylan decided he was never going to break the law. And he didn’t. He’d never even smoked a cigarette, much less anything stronger. He did drink a beer back when he was fifteen...maybe it was a few beers. He was so sick he never did it again, but that was it. He guessed maybe that was sort of breaking the law.
He hadn’t broken any laws here, had he? Or was trying to tell a king what to do a criminal offense? It had to be. The king went from cordial to nasty in the time it took to get from the bridge to the palace.
The cat jerked him hard, and they walked into the building and down a hall of dark gray. This was the dullest, most drab thing he’d seen since arriving in Craydusk. Sounds should echo off the corridor, but they were muffled. It made Dylan wonder what the walls were made of.
“Don’t bother trying to yell or use magic. These walls are made of a special material brought in from Haverstash. You are helpless down here. Nothing can help you now but the king or the princess.” The cat shoved Dylan ahead of him.
“What about the queen? Where is she? Can’t she help us?” Woli sounded as if she was going to cry.
The cat cackled. “The queen? She can’t even help herself.”
This wasn’t good at all. They were at the mercy of two people who didn’t like them and didn’t want them there.
“This is the most ‘guests’ we’ve had in ages,” one of the cats trailing behind them said. “They’ll have to go in the same cell. We don’t want them in with the dredges or the mangles.”
“Maybe it would do them good,” another cat said. “Teach them not to anger the king.”
“They’d never survive. And we don’t yet know the plans the king has for them.”
With that, Woli and Dylan were shoved into a room with the same gray walls, but bars from floor to ceiling at the front of the cell, like he’d seen in old spaghetti westerns.
Chapter 11
Once the soldiers shoved them in the cell, the largest cat pulled out a set of keys and locked the bars behind them. Down the hall, he heard a symphony of meows. They were speaking to each other in their own language. He wished he knew
what they were saying.
The cell was empty—not so much as a bed or a toilet. How would they sleep or urinate? Just the thought of it made Dylan feel the need to pee. He tried to think of something else...anything else.
All he could think about was he’d never see his parents again. He was doomed. He’d led not only himself to this fate, but also Strix and Woli. He didn’t care about Strix because that man, or owl, or whatever he was, robbed him. Well, he robbed Henry, but it was his grimoire.
Had Tully sent them down this path to imprisonment? Had he known the king would do this to them? Fine, sending Dylan was one thing, but Woli didn’t do anything to deserve this. And he read in his books, so Tully had to know what was going to happen. Or was that in another book he had yet to read? No, he knew what he was sending them into, Dylan was sure of it.
He walked to the back of his cage and leaned against the wall. Unlike concrete, the wall was warm, and he slid down it to sit on the floor. He was surprised to find the floor was not only warm like the wall, but it was soft like a mattress. He wouldn’t need a bed after all, but a pillow would be nice.
He looked up at Woli, who was pacing the floor. Her wings were flat and dull. She looked out of the cell, grim determination on her face. The only thing giving away her emotions were the tears rolling down her cheeks.
“It’s okay, Woli, we’ll get out of here,” Dylan said, even though he didn’t believe his own words.
Woli’s head snapped around. “No, we won’t. Those wards are so powerful my wings don’t even work.” She reached over her shoulder to lift her wing, and when she let go, it flopped back down.
“I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.” It was because he landed in this realm. But it wasn’t his fault because it wasn’t his idea. If he knew he was going to be in Craydusk, he’d have asked for help, a road map, anything to would help him with his magic and get him back home.
Not home to GCA, screw them. They landed him here in the first place. He wanted to go home to his mom and dad, and even to his bratty little brother. If he did get home, he’d warn his brother to fight his parents when they wanted to send him to the stupid school on the island. He’d make sure his brother didn’t suffer the same fate. He’d tell him about the magic so he wasn’t blindsided.
He was so mad at his mom and dad for not warning him of this eventual fate. They should have told him what he was before they sent him to that island. They said he was powerful. He sure didn’t feel powerful. He felt like a flea or a tick on a dog.
And what about his dad? He’d known, right? King Riata said he knew Augie. So Augie sent him to GCA, knowing he was going to land in Craydusk and have to fight for his life. “Dad, why didn’t you warn me?”
A voice on the other side of the wall said, “Because he couldn’t. It’s part of the oath of the school. It’s part of the secrecy that comes with being magical. We all have our crosses to bear, and there’s nothing our family can do to stop it or make it better—sort of like heartbreak. Your parents want to save you from the hurt and heartache, but you must experience it for yourself. That’s how the magic is.”
That slick voice. He knew that voice. It was Strix!
Woli stood still.
Dylan jumped up off the floor. “You,” he yelled. “We wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for you. Why did you steal my grimoire?”
He could hear Strix sigh. “I didn’t steal it. I was merely borrowing it, but then Portly came back to the café, and we had to run. I intended to give it back, but Portly stopped me a few minutes after you got in the trunk. He caught me red-handed. The grimoire was on the seat next to me.”
“Yeah, sure,” Woli said.
“I’m telling the truth. I was so flustered. Portly was suddenly right in front of me, standing in the middle of the road. I had to slam on the brakes. I was surprised the book didn’t slide off the seat and onto the floor. If the damn thing had, I wouldn’t be here. But I was so worried Portly would ask me to open the trunk before you got away, I wasn’t thinking about the book.”
Dylan wanted to believe him, but he already believed the king wanted to help them, and look where that led them.
“So Portly detained me and took the book. I’m sorry, but I don’t have it anymore.” Strix truly did sound sorry.
“You know the stories, Strix. The ones about the queen and magic. Why isn’t the queen here? And why is King Riata’s sister living at the palace? I thought she had her own territory.”
Strix sounded tired. “It’s a long story, but Portencia doesn’t have a territory of her own; she shares River Ruin with their other sister. Portencia and Riata now run Craydusk. Only almost no one knows about her.”
“Why not?” Woli asked.
“Again, it’s a long story. I’ll tell it to you later. Right now, I’m tired. I’ve been trying so hard to figure a way out my head hurts. I’m going to nap for a bit. We’ll talk later.”
From a distance away, a voice sounding like music said, “Be well, sleep well. You’ll need your energy.”
Dylan looked in the direction of the voice but didn’t dare respond. It sounded like a trap.
“Besides, they are probably watching everything we do, spying on us to make sure we don’t try to outsmart them.” Woli flopped down on the floor and curled into a fetal position.
Watching her, she reminded Dylan of Rex. The way he slept in his bed the morning Dylan left for the headmaster’s office. He felt bad for her. He felt bad for himself. And he felt exhausted.
He finally gave in and sat back down on the floor. Before he knew it, he slid down and fell asleep.
Dylan had no idea how much time passed, he just knew he was still in the same place. For looking so stark, the place was comfortable. He sat up and leaned against the wall again, looking at Woli, who was still asleep. It made him sad to see her wings so still. He assumed they’d at least flutter a little while she slept, but they still drooped like a soggy rag. The magic was drained.
His eyes adjusted to the low light, and he pushed off the wall, stretched, then walked to the bars. Not cold steel. He didn’t know what the material was, but it was warm to the touch. Whoever built this prison wanted it to look horrible, but not be so bad.
“Can you see me now?” the musical voice asked.
“Where are you?” Dylan whispered.
“Look to your left, in the far corner,” she said.
Dylan strained to see into the cell in the corner. He could barely make out a dark shape.
“Barely. I can see a shape. Who are you?”
She hesitated, then said, “I’m Gaanne, Queen of Craydusk.”
Dylan frowned and squinted harder, as if it would help him see better. “There’s no way.”
“Oh, there’s a way all right. I’ve been down here forever and a day. I’m not really sure how long, but I know it’s been at least a hundred years.” The melody in her voice was melancholy.
“But you’re the queen. How is it possible? Is this a trap?” Dylan now refused to look in the direction of her voice.
“It’s not a trap. I made a huge mistake when I married the king. I let him know my magic was more powerful than his—”
“No! That’s not true. You didn’t have any power. I heard the stories. You didn’t have any magic, and the magic in the territory overwhelmed you. You put up the wards to keep anyone from using magic in or near the palace, and you banished the king.” The story sounded preposterous as Dylan retold it.
“If Riata was banished, how did you get here? I heard the cats. They said you were brought here by Riata and Jervis,” Gaanne said.
“Jervis,” Dylan said. “He told me to find you. Did he know you are down here?”
“So, you believe me now?” she asked.
“I believe I’m in over my head. I need to find my grimoire and get out of here,” Dylan said.
“You can get out of here, but you’ll have to be smart and patient. There are weaknesses in the magic,” Gaanne said. “But we can’t talk a
bout it. Riata and his sister see and hear everything. You must be very quiet and pay attention to special visitors.”
Just then, a white mouse scurried by with what looked like a block of cheese in his mouth.
“I can’t be patient. My world is being overwhelmed with dark magic of some sort. I showed the king. He looked in the water and saw the darkness.”
The mouse dropped the block and scurried back out of Dylan’s cell. Dylan watched this time. The mouse ran toward Gaanne’s cell.
“What is your name?” she asked.
“Dylan. Dylan Streetman.” He leaned over and picked up the block the mouse dropped.
“Dylan, do you have a cell phone?”
“I do, but it probably doesn’t work in this realm.” He felt the phone in his pocket.
“Does the light work?”
He pulled his phone out and pressed the side button, then swiped up. The screen obeyed him, and he tapped the flashlight icon. The light came on. “It does.”
“Don’t say another word for now, okay? Just go back to the wall and get some rest.”
The way she said, “Get some rest,” didn’t sound right. And why did she asked if he had a light? He went back to the wall and turned his back to the cell. He used his cell phone light to look at what the mouse dropped. It took him several minutes to unfold the tiny block, which turned out to be a full sheet of paper.
The magical wards have a flaw. At 11:01 they recharge. At that time, magic can be used. But only for fifteen to thirty minutes. If you want to get out of here, you need to know when it’s 11:01, and you need to finish whatever you can do within twenty minutes. The king locked away many magical items in a storage room at the other end of this dungeon. The room is always guarded.
When the wards recharge, you can use your magic to disable the cameras and get out of the cell, but you need to be back before the wards are fully charged. If you aren’t back, the king will realize the flaw, and we are all doomed.
Dylan wanted to ask her why she was still here if she knew about the flaw. And if she knew, why hadn’t she used it to leave? But he couldn’t because she told him not to speak. He continued reading.
