I go back to the first word and place my talon against it once more. It’s almost a perfect fit. “Oh,” I breathe aloud. A dragon carved this. More than that, my father could have carved it himself.
I walk around the room, scouring the walls for a beginning to the writing in hopes of reading it in order, but nothing becomes apparent, so I just begin.
Some of it is hard to read because the carving isn’t very deep, and the letters are hard to make out. Especially when parts seem as though he tried to scratch them out. The other problem is that clearly, Father wrote in a hurry because entire words are missing.
The first sentence mentions a curse. Undead dragon king, Jarlan. Ruler trapped. Is Jarlan trapped just as I am?
I continue reading. Wizard’s doing. All revenge. I step back and allow my eyes a moment of rest from looking at the gibberish. Once I’ve had a moment to think on it, I go back. Game set by satyr. A gasp escapes me. Khende? Don’t trust him. Clearly, parts were never written because Father only had so much time. But how can I piece it together without knowing the beginning?
I start again, searching for the most obvious place where he would start writing. The walls are even in length and height. Father was a larger dragon than even I. He most likely would have started higher and worked his way across one wall at a time.
I start in the upper left corners, searching for the deepest markings because he would’ve had more strength, but as he carved, he would wear out.
I’ve been thrown in this box entirely alone by the undead dragon king, Jarlan. And while it may seem he is evil, I fear there is more to it. He has treated the satyr who offered to help me with an odd distance, as if wishing the creature would just leave. Not something a great dragon king would do unless it is the satyr that has already harmed him.
But alas, my concerns remain with escaping. Dragon fire, my weight flying into the walls—nothing seems to break them. With no door and no window, it seems escape is not the way out.
One wall read. On to the next one.
Khende joined me only for a while today. How curious that he can come and go, yet I am trapped within. I fear he is not what he seems.
I hope to ask Jarlan, but wherever he is, Khende seems to be as well. Even when he warned me that time was running out, Khende was eager to hear every word he spoke.
Home may be this cold, desolate place now. Escape seems impossible unless you’re a satyr.
The second wall ends there, with something scratched off at the end. But there’s no making it out, so either Father didn’t mean to write it, he didn’t want it seen by those who imprisoned him, or his captors didn’t want it seen.
But if Khende is the wizard, wouldn’t he erase all of this writing? Surely he wouldn’t allow me to find it here, on only the second of three tasks.
I shake my head and continue to the third wall. But as I look closer, I realize there is nothing here. The wall has no writings scratched across it—it is completely blank, which doesn’t make a bit of sense considering how much is cramped onto the other walls.
I lean closer, looking for any kind of marker as to why there wouldn’t be writing here. I run my talon over the entire thing, wondering if this wall is the answer. How did my father escape? It isn’t written, and thus that means perhaps he could not write it. What if he attempted to carve on this wall and failed?
I know he escaped. I begin doing what I imagine he would’ve done. He’s trying to tell me that Khende is not to be trusted, that Jarlan is not completely evil, and that there is something special about this particular wall.
I touch the end of my talon to it and begin to carve my name, but it leaves no mark. The wall remains bare. I inhale sharply as it appears the wall begins to bleed, though there is no visible mark aside from that.
The dark liquid slides down to the floor, but rather than darkening it, it simply disappears. I step farther down the wall and do it again, attempting to carve my name. The dark liquid bleeds out, sliding to the floor before disappear entirely.
I take a step back and look at the entire wall. It looks just like the other three. The same color, texture, size, and all. Or does it? I take a closer look at the seams near the ceiling and then back to the floor.
It isn’t the same. Where the wall meets the ceiling, it’s curved, and at the floor, there appears to be the tiniest sliver of room, where the wall touches nothing. I poke at it, resting my talons in the spot, and pull up. It creaks and groans and finally breaks free, swinging upward like a horizontal door.
And just outside, in the darkness where my eyes can find no light except directly before me, King Jarlan stands, looking quite frightened. He looks to either side of him, searching the darkness for whatever it is that haunts him, and yet he does not speak.
“Jarlan,” I whisper. “You didn’t set this curse, did you? You’re a long-forgotten king who played the games and lost. This is your curse just as much it is mine, isn’t it?” I ask, no longer fearing him or fearing what he could do, but fearing for him. Feeling his pain as I realize that he suffered what I am afraid to suffer.
He nods, still looking frightened, turning his head to either side.
“Is the satyr the one who set this curse upon the kings of Dracameveo?” I look around as I ask, checking to make sure it’s just the two of us.
“It is.” The way in which he speaks, the constant turning of his head, worries me greatly. Where is Khende?
“We’ve got to get out of here. Show me the way, help me break the curse, and we’ll both go home,” I offer, knowing I cannot do this on my own.
Maniacal laughing interrupts Jarlan’s reply. Slow clapping echoes throughout the room, though I fear now that everything is hidden in shadows for good reason.
“My dear Aurelio, I daresay you figured out how to escape the room in far less time than any king previously. A feat I did not think possible, considering your father held that record before you, and it took him six days. I am so very proud of you. For a moment, as you lay and cried to yourself, I feared you were giving up, and that just takes the fun out of the curse entirely. But no, you came through—you succeeded at the second task. And here I find myself wondering, should I free him now? Or should I let the curse play out as it has for hundreds before you? But nay, I fear you will simply have to go on. However, unlike any before you, you’ll have help because Jarlan here has decided he no longer wishes to be king. Not that I can blame him. But the city needs its ruler, and that means it’s down to you two. Only one will survive because even if you both succeed at the next challenge, you won’t leave here uncursed.” Though I cannot see him, Khende seems in high spirits as he announces that Jarlan and I must fight each other if the next task doesn’t kill us.
With a loud clap, sconces all around us are lit, revealing the large chamber we’re in. A cave of sorts, dark and dreary. No life to be seen. Only the rocks, causing a rough terrain all around. The ceiling is covered in stalactites with sharp points, hanging down dangerously.
I can’t help the gulp that echoes throughout the entire cavern. Certainly this will be no easy task, whatever it is.
A rumbling causes the stalactites to vibrate, causing an odd kind of tinkling sound, dust falling from the ceiling.
Jarlan’s eyes widen as he looks at whatever it is behind me. I slowly turn and look up at the beast that shakes himself awake, seemingly unfocused like he hasn’t been disturbed in a long time. Probably in a hundred and fifty years, I think grimly, realizing that’s how long it’s been since my father was here.
The beast has grayish wart-ridden skin wherever there aren’t scales. He seems to be part troll, part dragon. His wings span wider than Jarlan’s and mine combined. He has the head of a phoenix, a bright, fiery orange in contrast to the rest of himself. I realize that the wall that trapped me within truly was bleeding because it was his foot. The phoenix, of course. Incredibly fast healing abilities.
The chimera takes a step forward, advancing toward us. His tail whips out, and Jarlan wrap
s his wings around my eyes hurriedly. He whispers, “Don’t look at the tail, for it is a basilisk, and one look into its eyes will kill you.”
“Thank you.” I turn, and he puts his wings down.
“I’ve seen this monster destroy many dragons, Aurelio. Even with two of us, there’s hardly an advantage. The phoenix’s tears are healing, but because the bird is part of the beast, it simply heals on its own. And with the body of a dragon and troll, its skin is unbreakable, and its scales are tightly woven. It is twice as large as either of us. What chance do we have of defeating such a monster?”
“There are two of us, Jarlan,” I say, trying to watch the chimera without catching any glimpse of its tail. “We know its secrets. We are smaller, faster, and more agile. And most importantly, we have a reason to live. So we’re going to fight, and we’re going to get out of here. Do you understand? Are you willing to do this with me?” I look into his eyes, waiting for an answer.
He looks back up at the monster now towering over us. “Doesn’t look like I have much of a choice.”
I SIT UPON THE throne meant for the queen of Dracameveo and one by one address the people who have come for the king. Castel watches each person, listening, hoping to find a pattern in their words, their questions, why they wish to speak to the king.
Some of the people genuinely have concerns and issues, but it seems the rest are looking for information, spies for the people who wish to know if I have murdered their beloved king. As if I could ever kill the man who holds my heart and soul.
“Please, my lady.” The woman bows. “I only come to ask for food and water.” She falls at the dais, thin, dirty, and ragged.
I lift my hand, motioning for a servant to bring her what she asks for. She bows to me repeating “thank you” as she follows the servant to the kitchens.
“My lady, I have come to ask you something I presume only you could know,” a younger man says as he comes a little closer. “Why have you taken our king from us? Was he not fair enough for you? Did he not offer you his heart and kingdom?” The man questions me as if he expects me to answer such ridiculous notions.
But as Castel and Estella urged me to remain calm, I answer. “I have not taken your king from you. He has fallen ill and needs time to recover. It is your king who asked me to rule in his absence with the help of Lord Castel, his uncle.”
I wave my hand, signaling my readiness for this man to be taken from my presence so I can help the next person in line.
A young girl approaches timidly. I step down and go to my knees in front of her so she can speak to me at her own level. But without a word, she places a single white flower in my palm and dashes off into the crowd, disappearing from view before I can thank her.
I stand and lift my skirts as I retake my seat and set the flower in my lap.
“When are you going to stop lying to us?” a barrel-chested man asks, his voice booming throughout the hall, silencing everyone in the room.
I look at him, wondering how best to respond. I slowly blink, trying to come up with a possible answer for the impossible question.
“When? When will you tell us our king is dead? Will you mourn? Dressed in black and looking forlorn, tears in your eyes? I assume you’ll talk about how much you loved him and though you aren’t queen, he appointed you as this kingdom’s ruler in his absence. Therefore, you’ll just make yourself queen, yes?” He throws questions and accusations at me, never giving me a chance to speak.
“What is it you want? To be called queen? For us to bow to you? What could you gain from killing him? You couldn’t even wait for him to marry you—oh, no, it wasn’t enough. And either his uncle is helping, or he’s blindly following instructions you made up!” the man bellows.
I stand, the flower slowly floating to the floor, much like my hope falling into despair. “I will not be spoken to this way. Your king is alive, and until he can address you himself, I will do my best. You think I want to rule? That I want the kingdom? You think for a moment that I want you to bow to me and call me your queen? Then you know nothing about me. Leave. Come back when you’re willing to confess the things you’ve accused me of to your ruler upon his return.”
The man shows no regrets nor fear, but mumbling, he turns and leaves. The rest of the people file out after him, either scared of me or knowing they’ll be sent away for what they were going to say.
I collapse onto the throne, the pain becoming unbearable. I don’t know how much longer I can continue like this. No trust from the people who loved me and welcomed me only days ago.
I look toward Castel, who is watching me, frowning. Beside him stands Estella. She looks sad, pitying me. I lean over, resting my head in my hands, and allow the tears to come. To let my fears wash over me as every scenario runs through my mind.
After my outburst, things are only going to get worse.
“DUCK!” JARLAN YELLS, flattening himself against the ground. I turn and get down just as the chimera’s huge troll fists go swinging through the air where we just stood.
The basilisk tail comes next, swooping over us before curling back up and disappearing behind the chimera as he turns around again.
I fly up, flapping my wings hard, forcing myself to use them despite being unused for so long now. There’s a kind of pain, but it also feels good, freeing to be in a space large enough to open them, let alone use them.
I go as high as I can without hitting the spikes above me, which gives me an idea. I turn and fly up beside the largest of them. “Jarlan!” I call, hoping he sees what I’m about to do and moves in time. But I can’t wait to look and find out. I beat my wings against the stones until they break free, falling and piercing the troll hide of the chimera. He shrieks in agony and begins flapping his own wings, getting ready to take flight.
I break off another piece and watch as it falls, landing right between the chimera’s dragon wings. The rock falls a few feet, but continues toward me. The monster is almost near, reaching out his clumsy arms, holding them out, trying to grasp me. I dive before it can, swooping under it, almost flying right into the face of the basilisk. I narrowly avoid it before landing again, now beside Jarlan, who has pressed himself against the wall of the cave.
“I need your help,” I growl, knowing I’ll never succeed on my own. The chimera has far too many advantages.
“What can I do? I’ve not flown or fought in hundreds of years. I will only do more harm than good if I get in the way. I’m sorry, Aurelio, but I cannot.”
I face him, standing as tall as I can like the proud king I am. I stare him down, despite the fact that he is taller. “You have to fight. You’ve been trapped down here since you became king of Dracameveo. Did you not make it beyond the challenges? Or maybe you were never given the chance to prove that you deserved to get out of here. The world wondered what happened to the king of dragon and humans. You disappeared without a trace, and only the kings who came after you ever found out the truth. Maybe you have resolved yourself to stay—maybe you believe you deserve this. But not anymore. I am your great-grandson, and I am now your king. So I am telling you to get up and prepare for a battle that has already begun. You will fight, or you will die alone. I will not give up on those I love just because it seems there is no hope to win a battle against something that is stronger, larger, and has more advantages than myself. I will fight to return to my kingdom and the woman I love until I either succeed or die in the trying.
“You said you were with me, that you would fight. Don’t go back on your word when I need you most. The only time a battle becomes hopeless is when you stop having hope. Fight with me, Jarlan. Alone, there is no chance I can make it home again. But together, we can find a way.” Just as I speak the last part, Jarlan brings his wings forward and shoves me.
I get up, out of breath, hurting from hitting my side against a rock, ready to take on two enemies when I discover that he pushed me away from harm as the chimera came crashing down over us.
“Thank you,” I gasp, flying t
oward him.
“You’re welcome. Now we need a plan, Aurelio. We need to figure out how we’re going to defeat something we can hardly look at without risk of death.” He looks tired, more worn out. It seems his age is beginning to catch up to him. I think of all the stories, all the speculation, everyone wondering what happened to a young King Jarlan. And now I know—he’s been in the city of the undead all this time.
“We need to get out of here. Do you know how we can?”
“This is much like the pit you were dropped in as your first challenge, with nothing above it. It doesn’t lead straight out of the city. We need to get out of here, back to the throne. Only then will we be able to leave, using the way you came in.”
“So we need to go up. We need to break the ceiling. So let’s fly—the chimera will come after us, no doubt.” Speaking of which, I notice an eerie silence. I look up just in time to see the basilisk tail swinging around.
“Fly now!” I yell before getting in the air, swerving around and beyond where the chimera can reach.
Jarlan follows, and up we go. We fly side by side, nearing the place where I knocked down the stalactites. “We need to get him charging after us one by one. We’ll need to be agile and quick to avoid being hit by him and hitting the rocks ourselves,” I say before nosediving back toward the chimera. I swoop around his face, laughing and flapping my wings in his eyes before shooting back up. His wings create a breeze throughout the cave as he follows me closely. I’m only barely out of his reach, but it works. He’s coming after me.
I go up and up until the very last moment, swerving to the side. The chimera plunges headfirst into the rocks, screaming in agony as many pierce him. He begins to cry, healing himself, but as he falls, some of the rocky ceiling breaks away.
Jarlan, seeing what I just did, goes for it, following the chimera down, taunting him. When his tears have healed most of the damage and he can see again, he comes flying back up, but Jarlan isn’t as smooth as he used to be, and he doesn’t turn in time before hitting one of the crystals, scraping it along his back. The chimera bites out at him, but narrowly misses.
Curse of the Undead Dragon King (Skeleton Key) Page 10
