Sarah nodded. There wasn’t much point in hiding that from him.
“The other beast-men tell me that you’re Kay’s apprentice. But given your clothes and your age, I’m guessing that you’ve just arrived in this fair valley. I think you’re like me and the countless others who have found themselves trapped here. Am I right?”
Sarah didn’t answer, but her silence told Baelan all he needed to know. The warlord stood up, showing off his impressive height as he began to pace around the throne room.
“I’ve been here a year. Cut off from my friends, my family, and everyone I ever knew.” He walked toward one of the tapestries on the wall. The pattern looked like a map of a land that Sarah had never seen or heard of before.
“I was a king before I came here. I ruled almost the entire world. People bowed before me and spoke my name in hushed tones. Now I’m here, with only a few hundred men at my command. I was meant to explore and to conquer. Instead, I’m trapped in this jail of a valley.” He turned away from the tapestry and looked into Sarah’s eyes. “And what about you, Sarah? What were you meant to be? You’re still young. What dreams do you have?”
Sarah stared at Baelan blankly. Then she shrugged her shoulders. “I… I don’t know. I’m still growing up. I haven’t really thought about that too much.”
Baelan smirked. “Maybe you should start thinking about that.” He picked up his sword and unsheathed it from its leather scabbard, but in a slow and deliberate way so as not to seem like he was threatening Sarah. When the blade was unsheathed, it looked like it was made of pure silver.
“This is the blade Uthyr, which I claimed after I slew the great dragon Ezzrir in my home world. It can destroy anything it strikes, and only those with the will and the power to rule are able to wield it.” With great grace, he knelt in front of Sarah, flipping the sword so its pommel pointed toward her. “Try holding it.”
Not entirely sure that this was a good idea, Sarah nonetheless found herself reaching for the blade. Baelan released it as she lifted. It was much heavier than she had expected, to the point where she wondered how the warlord could possibly wield it in battle. Despite the weight, she managed to raise the sword above her head, pointing the tip toward the ceiling.
A strange, hungry feeling filled Sarah’s body. The sword seemed to whisper something to her, but she couldn’t make it out. Then the blade wobbled and grew heavier. Sarah’s arms fell forward as the weight became too much, and the weapon dropped. Baelan stepped back out of the way as the sword clattered to the ground. Sarah knelt and tried to pick the blade up, but it was like moving a mountain now.
Baelan laughed in an almost grandfatherly way. “Don’t worry, my dear. I know you weren’t trying to kill me there.” He picked up the sword effortlessly. Then he put it back into the scabbard and placed the blade carefully by his throne once again.
“You have potential—the blade knows that much about you. Not many people could possibly wield it even as long as you did. Given training from me, you could be a great warrior yourself one day. You could rule at my side and carry on my work when I pass on to the Great Heavenly Halls—but not as long as we’re stuck here. This is a valley of wonders, but it’s like living in a museum. There are spells and monsters, but what good is all that when the rest of the world is closed to you?”
Sarah remained silent. What did those heroes from her stories do when they weren’t saving the world?
“It’s easy to leave this place, if you have the right tools,” said Baelan. “I need that spellbook of Kay’s. With it, I can open up Castle Greystone and go to whatever land I please. And if you help me, all of my victories can also be yours once I regain my armies.”
Sarah blinked. The idea of people bowing before her as a queen was tempting, but… “What if I don’t want to rule? What if I just want to be?”
“The world is made for strong people, Sarah. You either impose your will on others, or you let them push you around for the rest of your life. You should know what I’m talking about. You have parents, don’t you?”
“I have a mom,” she said.
“And she probably tells you that she loves you very much,” said Baelan, his voice growing harder. “But whenever she gets a chance, she forces you to live by her laws. She rules over you. Wouldn’t you like a chance to do the same?”
“But my mom doesn’t use threats to tell me what to do. You did. You threatened an entire village with your army, just to get at Kay. When my mom lays down a rule, she’s trying to help me. You’re just trying to help yourself, and you don’t care who you need to push around to do it.”
The corners of Baelan’s mustache twitched. His face seemed to grow darker. “I’ve offered you power and glory, Sarah. Don’t be stupid enough to throw it away. I will master Castle Greystone, one way or another. It is my destiny to rule and to conquer as many new worlds as I can find. If you tell me where Kay hid his spellbook, I will give you entire countries as your playthings. If you refuse me again, I will throw you in my dungeon and make sure you never see the light of day until you’re too old and gray to even remember your precious home or your beloved mother. Now tell me. . . where is the spellbook?”
Sarah met the warlord’s gaze, but she didn’t keep staring as long as he did. Her eyes broke away, drifting back to the magical sword. She wondered if he was willing to use it on her. Nonetheless, she resolved to tell him nothing. Heroines didn’t crack under pressure. If she wanted to be a heroine, she needed to act like one. “I said it before, and I’ll say it again. I know where the spellbook is, but I won’t tell you or anyone else. You can’t go bullying everybody just because you’ve got a few soldiers at your side.”
Baelan growled and took a step toward his sword. Sarah flinched, but she didn’t go back on what she had said. Instead of picking up his weapon, the warlord turned away and shouted for his guards. Two beast-men appeared at the door almost immediately.
“Take her to the dungeon,” said Baelan, returning to his throne. “If she doesn’t crack, then Kay will. One of them will tell me something and leave the other to rot.” Baelan sat on his throne, his fists clenched in anger.
Sarah managed a self-confident smile before the beast-men started dragging her away. “I might as well enjoy this victory,” she muttered to herself, “because rotting in a dungeon doesn’t sound too fun at all.”
Seven
One of her captors opened a door, and Sarah looked down into the pit that was to be her new home. The beast-men pushed her forward, almost causing her to fall down the narrow spiral stairway as she trudged toward her prison. She counted the steps to herself, but lost count somewhere around one hundred twenty-seven. Finally, she reached the bottom of the crumbling staircase.
A long, dark hall stretched out before her. She wrinkled her nose as she moved forward. The place smelled like a sewer and the stone floor had some sort of sticky wetness that made her wish once again that she had appeared in Greystone Valley with a decent pair of shoes. The horse-headed men behind her pushed her forward until she stumbled into a cell. Then they slammed the iron bars shut behind her and turned the key.
“Enjoy your stay,” the beast-man said with a malicious whinny. “The master will leave you down here until you’ve forgotten your own name.”
Indignant but helpless in the prison, Sarah looked around for her companion. Kay was nowhere in sight, though. She was alone now, trapped by three stone walls and a fourth wall of solid iron bars. She pushed against the bars, hoping to find one of them loose, but they were all perfectly fitted. Even her thin body couldn’t fit between the bars. She was trapped and alone.
She sighed deeply and then took a closer look at her surroundings. She could hear the echoes of mice creeping across the stone corridors, squeaking in surprise when they saw someone in the largest cell. The room had a dank and moldy smell, like she was stuck in a mushroom garden. Or, at least, that was what she thought it might be like—Sarah didn’t exactly have much experience with either gardens or dunge
ons.
One corner of the room had an empty pot in it. Sarah didn’t want to guess what that was there for. The other corner had a makeshift bed of straw, with a single threadbare blanket covering it. Since she seemed to think better while lying down, she threw herself onto the lumpy bed. She heard a groan and jumped back up again with a squeal. The bed wasn’t empty.
“Of all the nuisances,” came a melancholy voice from underneath the scratchy blanket. “Can’t I get any sleep around here?”
The form shifted, and whoever was in the bed threw off the blanket. The person underneath sat up and looked at Sarah through baggy eyes. He was old, or, at least, older than anyone else Sarah had met in Greystone Valley so far. Wrinkles lined his face. His hair was thin and wild, pointing out in all directions, and it was the same color as the unwashed straw.
“I’m… I’m sorry,” Sarah stammered in surprise. “I didn’t realize there was someone else in this cell.”
“Of course you didn’t realize it,” the old man said with a sigh. “The guards probably didn’t realize it, either. No one takes notice of an old wretch like me. People just look right through me, never even realizing I’m there.”
“Well, like I said, I’m sorry.” Sarah hesitated and did a slight curtsy. That seemed to be the proper way to greet someone in this land, even if she was in dirty pajamas. “My name is Sarah. I’m a prisoner here, like you.”
“Oh, you’re hardly like me,” the old man said. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he gnashed his teeth. “They won’t forget a pretty young lady like you down here. They probably won’t forget to bring you your gruel or leave you with flea-ridden blankets. No, that type of treatment is reserved for Dax and Dax alone.”
“Dax… is that your name?” Sarah put on her most friendly expression, although it was getting hard to keep smiling as she considered spending a night alone in a dungeon with this dreary fellow.
“That’s what people call me, so that might as well be my name. Heavens forbid anybody call me by my real title, Daxilianus Pouranger Asilas the Third. No, I’m just old Dax. And most people don’t remember that, either.”
Sarah blinked, trying to memorize all the long syllables of Dax’s real name. “Well, if it’s any consolation, I don’t think I’ll forget someone like you very easily.”
“Oh, don’t think that makes me happy at all. I won’t even know you long enough to be remembered, anyway. The guards will drag you off somewhere to be executed, and old Dax will be alone and forgotten again.”
Sarah felt faint at the thought of an execution—especially with her as the victim.
“And there I go frightening the young girl,” Dax said, moaning. “My apologies, miss. Not that they aren’t going to execute you—Baelan likes hanging the best, although I think he recently acquired a guillotine somewhere. But I really must learn to remember my manners and not frighten guests so badly. Here.” He got out of bed, revealing a lanky body and long skinny limbs that made him look like a blonde scarecrow. “Take the bed and get some rest. Don’t worry, there aren’t any bugs left in it. I ate them all, you see. That’s the only way poor forgotten Dax can get any nourishment down here.”
Sarah curled her lips back. She looked at the filthy straw bed and then at the ragged man in front of her. She didn’t know which bothered her more: that her bed had been crawling with bugs, or that the man who shared the cell with her had eaten them all. Luckily, she didn’t have to think about either subject for too long. Another set of hoofed footsteps came echoing down the hall.
“They’re coming to take us away,” Dax whispered. “Hide!” Without any further warning, he threw the blanket over his head and stood as stiff as a board.
Sarah scratched her head, wondering what that was supposed to accomplish. Now Dax just looked like a tall, skinny man with a blanket draped over his head.
The clip-clop of hooves grew louder. In another moment, one of the horse-men guards appeared in front of the door, carrying a bound prisoner with a burlap bag over his head. Although she couldn’t see the new prisoner’s face, Sarah recognized Kay’s baggy purple robes immediately.
“Step back from the door and sit on your hands,” the guard ordered as he reached for a set of keys on his belt.
Noticing the cruel-looking barbed whip also on the guard’s belt, Sarah decided it was best to do what he said. She sat down on her hands while the guard undid Kay’s bonds, pulled the hood off his head, and thrust him into the room. Before Kay could turn around or Sarah could stand up, the guard slammed the door shut. “Dinner’s in an hour. Stay put and shut up.” With those harsh words, the guard marched off.
“Did you see that?” Dax pulled the blanket off his head and heaved a sigh that sounded like wind rustling through dead leaves. “He didn’t even pay attention to me. Nobody pays attention to poor old Dax.”
“I’m starting to think there might be a good reason for that,” muttered Sarah under her breath. She decided to let Dax wallow in his own self-pity for a bit and went to attend to Kay. “Are you all right?”
Kay rubbed his aching wrists and offered only a frown. Sarah had to ask him again before he finally answered. “They took my hat,” he said, pointing to his naked head. “And my staff.”
“Be happy that’s all they took,” Sarah said. Her concern disappeared as she remembered why the beast-men had been able to catch them in the first place. “If you hadn’t risked both our lives just to get that stupid stick of yours, then we wouldn’t be in this cell right now.”
“I’m a wizard. I need my staff.”
“Why? What’s so important about a walking stick?”
Kay stormed to the bed and sat down, not even looking at Dax as he passed him. Instead, he continued his argument with Sarah. “Haven’t you read any of the old legends?” he asked. “A wizard always has a staff. If he doesn’t… well, then, he’s not much of a wizard, is he?”
“I’ve read lots of stories myself,” Sarah retorted, “and I’ve never known any wizard to walk around in oversized robes and risk his life for a stupid piece of wood.”
“Oh, wonderful,” Dax said, standing forgotten in a corner. “All this shouting is giving me a headache.” When he saw that no one was paying attention to him, his face became even gloomier. “Don’t mind me, though. Just keep it up. I’ll be lying here with my brain leaking out of my ears.”
Kay crossed his arms and looked at the floor. “I needed that staff.”
“Why?” Sarah wasn’t about to let the argument drop. “What’s so important about a piece of wood? You could have gotten another staff anywhere. Just pull a branch off a tree!”
“What do you know about any of it? You don’t know me. You don’t know anything about this world,” Kay snapped.
“I don’t need to know anything about this world to realize how much trouble you’ve gotten us into! First, you turn yourself into a frog. Then, you have us running from an army because of a stupid book. Then, we end up getting caught, all so you could look like a wizard for a few minutes.”
“The staff belonged to my father,” Kay said quietly. “That staff, these clothes, and my spellbook are the only things I have left of him.”
Suddenly, Sarah fell quiet. Any more words she had to put into the argument died in her throat.
Unexpectedly, Dax asked, “What happened to your father?” The question surprised both Sarah and Kay for a moment, for it seemed like the old man had been unable to do anything more than pity himself up to that point.
“He wasn’t really my father,” corrected Kay. “He took me in when I was young. I don’t remember my real parents. But he was family to me. He taught me how to be a wizard. But the villagers didn’t trust him. They thought he was a monster who bewitched children and kidnapped women. They stormed our tower, and he sent me out into the world with his spellbook, robes, and staff. I haven’t seen him since.”
Silence fell over the group. Sarah felt herself reach out and touch Kay on the arm. Words grew in her throat, and she fina
lly let them out. “If it’s any consolation,” she said, “I know how you feel.”
Kay looked at Sarah. His dark eyes had an unusual seriousness to them. At the same time, they seemed to want to ask her what had happened to her father. But Sarah didn’t want to tell that story yet.
The moment was broken by a wailing sob from Dax. “That is the most touching thing I’ve seen in all my time here,” he said. A determined look came across his pale face. “As such, I’ve decided to help you escape.” He sniffed away sentimental tears and snorted as he rubbed his nose across his sleeve.
“You know how to escape?” asked Sarah. “Why didn’t you tell us earlier?”
“I didn’t say I knew how to escape,” corrected the old man. “I simply said I would help you escape. More than likely, we’ll all be caught again and tortured to death. But when that happens, at least they can say old Dax did one good thing in his wretched and forgettable life. At least, that’s what they would say if anyone remembered us. Most likely, we’ll all be forgotten after all is said and done.”
He returned to his melancholy self after that speech and walked with hunched shoulders to the cell’s door. Grabbing hold of the iron bars, he shook them with all his might, rattling the hinges. To go with this racket, he let out a loud sickly moan that sounded like all the bugs he had eaten were about to force their way up his throat and out of his mouth. He threw himself against the bars and made such a wailing racket that even Sarah thought he might be dying.
Soon enough, one of the beast-men guards came down the corridor to find out what all the noise was. This one had a fat body and the head of a wild pig, complete with fierce-looking tusks that had likely been sharpened for combat. “Here now, what’s all this racket? Settle down, or I’ll crack your skull!”
Dax did quiet down, but not the way the beast-man expected. In a movement that was almost too fast to follow, he darted his hands through the iron bars and grabbed the guard by the back of the skull. Then he pulled forward with all his might, smashing the creature’s snout against the barred door. The pig-man squealed and staggered backward. Before the creature could recover, Dax snatched the key ring from its belt.
Greystone Valley Page 5
