by Jeanna Kunce
* * *
After leaving the kitchens, the group of passengers, with Darien trailing at a short distance, first passed through a wide corridor before spilling out into the rear of a grand hall. Darien was not the only one staring at the extravagant show of wealth all around, although after a few moments she decided it seemed overdone and gaudy. A long stone table, clearly for the king and his most important advisers and guests, stood at the far end of the hall where it was being decorated with a silky, embroidered tablecloth, elaborate candelabra, and lots of gold tableware. More modest wooden trestle tables were being added to the room by palace servants who bustled about their duties with efficiency and very little chatter. To the left, a gold statue, presumably of the king, sneered down at them from atop a stone pedestal taller than Darien. Even the walls appeared to have been painted with a twisting pattern of golden filigrees.
In contrast to the luxury around her, Darien looked down and noticed how filthy her dress had become. She saw with dismay that even more of the hem had torn, probably from her fall through the trees. My mom is going to kill me, she thought. If I ever make it back home, that is. At least the other passengers didn’t look so different from her, with their homespun clothes and dust-blown skin. They are wearing shoes though, she thought, looking down at her scratched and dirty feet with chagrin.
Darien was abruptly brought back to her task when the tall prim man leading them began giving their instructions.
“Before any of you ask, yes, this is the Great Hall where the king will be holding his feast tonight,” he said in a bored tone. “And no, you can’t come unless you’ve been specially invited. Now, line up please and show me your mark. Once I’ve got you separated into groups, I can show you where to go.”
Darien panicked. She had no idea what the mark was or what it was for, but she knew she clearly didn’t have it. The others were grumbling and lining up to show the man their left forearms where a quarter-sized symbol had been inked.
Darien eased away from the group and tried to slip away without being noticed, but before she had gotten very far the man yelled out, “Where do you think you’re going?”
“I’m so forgetful—I left my sandals in the cart,” she said.
“Well, they’ve probably left already,” he replied.
Despite his warning, Darien kept walking swiftly to the hallway. “I’ll just go check anyway,” she said and started lightly running. She didn’t want to go back to the kitchen though, so when the man’s attention was turned back to the other passengers, she veered off and slipped into another room hidden behind a thick velvety curtain, not having any idea where it would lead or where she needed to go.
Before Darien could go anywhere, she heard a couple of pairs of echoing footsteps that sounded like they were climbing rather than walking through the hallway beyond the curtain. She immediately retreated and folded herself into the excess curtain fabric, hoping it still looked normal from the outside. Darien could discern two, or possibly three, young female voices speaking quietly and coming in her direction.
“You heard the strange noises coming from down there?”
“What were they from?”
“I have no idea, but it sounded big. I couldn’t see anything though; they’ve got the door locked up tight.”
“I bet if it was Evan’s turn on duty you’d get to take a peek.”
“Shh . . . don’t even joke about that! You know he’d get in a lot of trouble.”
“You know what’s even worse? The smell. I mean, it is awful. It smells like something rotten is burning. It’s bad enough we have to go down there in the first place to feed those ungrateful prisoners and clean up after them, but to have to do it with that smell seeping in? Ugh!”
“And the really bad part is that tomorrow we’ll probably have to clean up after whatever it is they’re keeping so secret.”
“I don’t even want to think about—oh! Someone’s coming—”
The sound of the girls’ footsteps scurried away from where Darien remained hidden. She stifled a sneeze and waited in the musty curtain while heavier footsteps came and went. When all was quiet again, she peeked out and viewed her new surroundings while rubbing the dust from her itchy nose.
She had entered a wide open corridor with wooden doors leading off of it on her right side. It turned a corner about ten yards on her left. If I guess that the sounds and smells the girl was talking about belong to the dragons, then I need to find a way to get down below, she thought. Darien found what she needed diagonally from her position: a tall stone archway in the corner that led to a circular tower filled with a spiral stairway made of thick stone slabs. Checking that both ways were clear, she dashed over to the doorway, then hesitated. She could see that once she entered the tower there would be no place to hide if someone came along. Not seeing any other choice, Darien moved into the shadowy tower and began to carefully descend.
Before Darien even reached the bottom, she began to wish she had put her shoes back on. The steps were gritty at first, then became slimy as she went deeper into the levels below. Soon a creeping chill began sneaking its way through her feet and up past her ankles.
The stairs circled once, twice, three times around before opening into a dimly lit room that seemed to have no other purpose other than to lead off into other rooms. It was large and L-shaped, similar to the corridor above, and had three unmarked doors leading off from it: one on each end wall and one on the left-hand interior wall. Small oil lanterns hanging from iron hooks were the only features in this room made entirely of dark, damp stone. Unsure where to go next, Darien decided to start with the door on her far left and listen at each one in turn, hoping for some clue to what lay behind them.
It was never far from her mind that someone could come along at any moment and find her completely exposed, with nowhere to hide in this barren room. She was unaware how much commotion was going on in the upper levels of the palace to ready it for the king’s last-minute celebration. Because of these preparations and with many people also gone on account of Amani’s attack, Darien was quite fortunate to have been able to roam the palace as freely as she had so far.
Nothing could be heard behind the first door, although Darien was unsure how much sound could even pass through the thick wooden panels. The second door reassured her in that regard; she could hear muffled voices, but they sounded far away and she could not make out what they were saying. A low trickle of water was the only sound coming from the third door, so Darien returned to the second door in hopes of discovering more clues. This time, in addition to the voices, she noticed a slightly scorched odor drifting from the small crack under the door. She made up her mind that this was the door she would go through, but that left her with another dilemma: how to get in without being seen, when there were obviously other people inside.
She didn’t have long to worry about it. As Darien listened, she suddenly heard the voices getting louder and closer. She had just a second to jump to the back side of the door before it slammed open and came inches away from smashing into her nose. She dug her fingernails into the soft wood of the door to keep it open and waited fearfully to be discovered.
The instant the door opened, two rough-sounding men scuffled through the room, pushing and arguing. From what they were saying, Darien figured that one was a guard and the other was a prisoner being taken for some kind of questioning. He was not anxious to go either, from the sound of their constant struggling. But before Darien knew it, their footsteps were tripping up the stairs, and their growling voices faded away.
Darien waited, frozen behind the door. She was afraid to move, afraid of more unexpected people. She listened carefully. She stayed that way until her hands cramped and her fingernails tore painfully away from the moist, thick grain of the wood. Darien exhaled heavily with relief after realizing that she had been holding her breath. When she felt it was safe, she came from around the doo
r and peeked into the hallway beyond.
The first thing she saw was another door directly across from her, and she felt a thrill of anticipation that this might be the one she had been searching for. A quick glance showed her a long dark hallway to her left and small alcove on her right. A hanging lantern in the alcove illuminated a small stool and an empty mug resting on a plain wooden desk; this was probably the guard’s station, Darien reasoned. She could also smell the burnt odor much more intensely now, and it seemed to be coming from straight ahead. Seeing that the hallway appeared empty, she walked to the door in front of her and reached out her hand to try the large iron knob.
“Don’t bother,” a man’s voice murmured behind her, “it’s locked, and they’re not letting anyone in.”
Darien was startled so much she almost screamed. She spun around and saw two dark eyes peering at her from the shadowed hallway. At first, she thought the man looking at her from behind the thick metal bars of a cell seemed rather scary and unkempt. His clothes were torn, his skin was dirty, and his cheeks were bristly with dark whiskers. But when he turned and more of the scarce light touched his eyes, Darien could see that he was mostly tired and anxious looking, not at all like many of the hard, tough men she had seen earlier working for the king.
A slight whispering sound made her realize that they weren’t alone. There was a woman sitting in the corner with two children huddling on her lap. The woman was thin, with straight blond hair pulling free of its twisted style, and she wore a mask of worry even heavier than the man’s. The little girl in her arms couldn’t have been over a year old and the boy, who had a mottled bruise under his left eye, looked to be around four. The way they clung to their mother and looked out with such sad, haunted eyes made a shiver ripple its way down Darien’s back.
“It’s really important that I get through this door,” Darien told the man. “Do you know how I can get in?”
“Well, unless he wants to be thrown in here with us, I’m guessing Henric has the key safely in his possession. Henric is the tall, ugly guard with the ratlike face,” the man explained. “He just left with one of the other prisoners. You must’ve passed him on your way here.”
Darien felt frustration welling up inside her. I made it so far, and now I’m stuck again. It’s not fair! She turned her back on the imprisoned people and tried to examine the door again, in case there was a way to wiggle it open or break the lock. It wouldn’t budge. She slammed her fist against it, not even caring about the loud bang that echoed down the hall or how her hand stung afterward.
The man continued to watch her with interest. “Who are you? Why do you need to get in there so badly?”
Darien hesitated, unsure whether she could trust anyone in this strange land. Then, almost without thinking, words burst out of her in a rush.
“It’s a long story—some of it I can’t even explain. My name is Darien. I came from a very different place and traveled a long way to get here. I’m in this city all alone and I need to save some . . . um, someone in trouble, and I’m pretty sure they’re behind that door.”
“Save someone?” the man’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Or something? We’ve heard the noises (and smelled the smell, of course). Tell us what’s in there.”
“I’m pretty sure there are two dragons trapped in there,” Darien admitted, although the man looked as if he had already suspected as much.
“I told you,” the man said as he turned to the woman. To Darien, he said, “I am Will, and this is my wife, Saara. My boy here is Rian, and my baby girl is Qwinn.” Darien smiled at the children, but they only looked at her impassively from the safety of their mother’s arms.
“I don’t mean to be rude,” Darien said, “but why are they keeping little kids in jail?”
“Good question,” Saara murmured sarcastically.
Will sighed. “Ours, too, is a long story, but simply put, we owe them money that we don’t have right now.” A worried frown pulled down Will’s brow as he told of their previous journey to the city. They had loaded up a cart full of goods to sell in the market: clothes handmade by Saara and artistically carved stools made by Will. Unexpectedly in the night, they had been attacked by a group of large, masked men who had stolen little but vandalized everything. Will’s furniture had been smashed and Saara’s clothes had been torn to shreds, leaving them nothing to sell. It appeared to be a random attack, but several shouts of “dragon lovers” and other insults made Will suspicious. His fears were confirmed after they were arrested for failing to pay their taxes and they were dragged through the palace to prison; they clearly heard one of the king’s dragon hunters mocking them in a very distinct stuttering speech they recognized from the night of the attack. Will explained that it was true, they were opposed to the senseless slaughter of dragons, but they had done nothing against the laws.
They had also been accused of sending secret messages to King Radburn’s enemies, which Will said was completely untrue. Darien noticed that for the first time Will’s eyes shifted away as he spoke, and she wondered if he was indeed telling her the truth. Either way, she felt these were good people who had not deserved to be thrown in this dark, damp cell with their innocent children. Darien, resolving to help, untied her tights, reached inside, and pulled out her dragon scale, holding it out for Will to take.
“I have no idea how much this is worth, but if it will help you, you can have it,” she said.
Will’s kind eyes narrowed and flashed with anger. “Where did you get that?” he demanded.
“Will,” Saara uttered softly as Darien took a bewildered step backward, “calm down. You don’t suppose she single-handedly took down a dragon, do you? Does she look like a dragon hunter to you?”
Saara’s gentle teasing calmed Will somewhat, but he still seemed on his guard. “You can’t be too careful these days, Saara, you know as well as I do. A strange girl wandering around who just happens to have a dragon scale? That’s worth enough to feed our family for over a month, I would bet.” He turned back to Darien. “I want to trust you, but you have to tell me where you got it.”
“I got it from a friend,” Darien answered.
“You have a friend who goes around handing out dragon scales?” Will asked with disbelief.
“Yes, actually,” Darien replied, “but it’s not what you think. My friend is a dragon. His name is Amani, and it’s his parents that are prisoners here. He gave the scale to me for an emergency, but to tell the truth, it hasn’t been much good. I couldn’t buy any food or pay for a ride here. I doubt it will help me on my way out either, if I make it that far. So if it will help you and your family, I want you to have it.”
Saara came over to Will, holding Rian’s hand and carrying the baby. “What do you think?” she asked her husband.
“Well, it won’t get us out of here—they wouldn’t accept it as payment when they know we didn’t have the money to pay before. But if we could get out of here and away from the city? I would take it in a second, and we could start fresh somewhere else.” Darien thrust the scale close to Will, insisting that he take it, but he still hesitated. It was Saara who finally accepted it with a look of deep gratitude and slid it into a pocket inside her tunic.
An awkward moment was interrupted by the sound of a loud thump and a stifled roar coming from behind the locked door. The next instant, all was quiet again.
Darien noticed that Rian was looking at her with something more than blank disinterest. “Are you really friends with a dragon?” he whispered.
“Uh-huh,” she smiled at him. “I even got to ride him.” Rian seemed speechless at this, but his eyes looked at Darien with awe. Will and Saara shared a look of relief that their normally quiet little boy hadn’t been completely damaged by their ordeal. But, with time growing short, they put their heads together with Darien’s and came up with a plan to steal the keys they needed to open both the cell doors and the one they hoped wo
uld lead to Amani’s parents.
10
Finding the King’s Treasure
Saara knelt over Will as he lay bleeding on the floor.
“It’s going to be all right,” Darien reassured Rian as she hugged Qwinn’s little body, “but don’t look.” Will cursed once in pain and there was a sickening crunch. Minutes later, Saara mopped up the last of the blood from her husband’s broken nose with the bottom of her skirt. Will sat up and tried to get a look at his wife’s swollen hand, but she brushed him away and took Qwinn from Darien’s tiring arms. Rian went timidly to his father, who pulled him into a crushing hug and showed him that, other than a red puffy nose, he was going to be fine.
With a small pang of envy at the family’s closeness and affection, Darien politely turned away and contemplated the rough wooden door in front of her. She lifted her shaking hand and beheld a large metal key that would, if they were lucky, open the lock barring their way.
Recent events had come about so fast they were becoming a blur in Darien’s mind. She remembered the nervousness in her stomach while she waited for the guard’s return to the basement.
She remembered the look of surprise on his face when he saw her in the shadows and how it had transformed into a look of greed when he saw what she held in her hands—the dragon scale.
She remembered the rush of relief she felt when Will’s hands grabbed Henric by the neck, right before the guard could lunge for Darien and the scale.
She remembered how she had almost panicked when he wouldn’t loosen his grip on the ring of keys, but with one final yank of both her hands she was able to rip them free. The fourth key had opened the jail cell, but by then Will’s arms had weakened and the guard was able to chase Darien into the cell. She ran over to Saara, who grabbed the scale and whipped it at the guard’s head. When he instinctively reached for it, Will ran at him and they struggled.
