DragonSpell (17 page)

         
24
         

S
ILENCE?

“Can you mindspeak with me?” Shimeran asked Kale.

Yes.

“Good. I ask this of you. I will lead us to the dungeons. Then I will need your assistance. At that time, please tell me as we come to turns in the passages ‘right’ or ‘left.’ Or ‘up’ or ‘down’ as we come to steps. As we go through the outer quadrants of the fortress, I will be using all my senses to try to keep us safe. So please do not distract me. Do not mindspeak to me unless necessary.”

Kale nodded.

Shimeran’s clothing dimmed until the substance looked black instead of deep blue. Only a soft glow hovered at his feet, revealing the stone floor where they must tread without stumbling. He moved swiftly, and Kale followed with Dar behind. Her anxiety increased as she hurried to keep pace with the kimen. He darted around corners, and she feared she would lose him. He abruptly stopped to survey the next segment of their course, and she almost fell over him.

From time to time, Shimeran pushed them into deep shadows, and his clothing gave out not one glimmer of light. Then Kale tried to control her breathing so she wouldn’t be heard. Her hand would cover Gymn as he lay curled tightly in his pocket-den. She hoped the cape truly concealed her. Once she thought how nice it would be to shovel out the muck in the tavern stables rather than be crouched behind barrels, with bisonbeck men arguing loudly as they passed a few feet from where the rescuers hid.

Shimeran led them deeper into the fortress. As they traversed the different yards, Kale began to sense the layout of the grounds. Whether she picked up this information from the kimen’s thinking or from some intuition of her own, she could not tell. But she knew the general layout of the different parts of the fortress.

A tall stone wall designed for defense circled the entire domain. A second wall of finer stone was actually a ring of rooms. Horse stalls took up a bulk of this section, but there were quarters for the guards, a kitchen, a tavern, and storerooms. The rescuers moved through a feed room among sacks of oats and bales of hay to get from the outer circle to the inner.

Between the second wall and a third lay an expanse of groomed grass. Soft underfoot, it offered no place to conceal themselves should someone come by. Shimeran crossed immediately to the inner quadrant. The next wall was shorter, artistically constructed out of brick and carved black stone. They slipped over it and into a garden.

Here torches lit the pathways. Kale saw plants almost as big as trees and benches clustered as if for visiting as well as resting. Occasionally, as they moved around the center building, they saw porches with marble statues, balconies with engraved balustrades, and arched doorways into the castle itself.

Kale’s mouth hung open as she gaped at the castle. She’d been in huts and hovels, fine cottages and rough cabins, barns and sheds and chicken coops. The tallest house in River Away was the three-storied tavern. She’d seen the city Vendela and knew the capital city was far more splendid than this dark and dreary castle-fort. But she’d only seen Vendela from afar, and this fortress, where they might be caught and killed at any moment, was impressive. If it weren’t for the fear in her heart, Kale would have enjoyed gaping at the marvels around her.

Once they left the soldiers’ domain at the outer rim of the fortress, they encountered only a few servants. They had to hide while two maids sat and complained by a fountain. After only a minute, Kale realized these women were mariones. Her mouth dropped open, and she turned to Dar for an explanation.

Look! Do you see? They’re mariones. How can anyone of the high races serve Risto?

He scrunched up his face in a frown and shrugged.
“Sometimes, they serve here because the life is easier, or so they think when they first come. Maybe the high wages attract them, maybe the nice clothes. They pretend to themselves that working here is just like working in a big house in one of our cities. Others are damaged by bitterness and anger. They serve here because they are most comfortable with others who harbor ugly feelings within their hearts.”

The rescuers detoured around two men, a tumanhofer and a doneel, playing cards on a stone bench beneath a torch. As she followed the others quietly around the edge of a terrace, Kale stared at the servants. She tried to see something about their appearance which would serve as a clue to why they chose a life within these dark walls. Nothing showed, save a certain hard look to their expressions. She wondered if the coldness in their faces came before or after they made their choice.

For the most part, Dar, Kale, and Shimeran easily avoided the house workers. The rescuers hid in the shadows and slipped from one place of security to the next. Frequently, Kale touched the slight bulge in her cape that was the healing dragon. Little Gymn helped her to relax, shaking off tension and fear.

Shimeran knew the way to the dungeons. He led them to the back side of the fortress, the part closest to the cliff. In stark contrast to the gardens and castle terraces, a grim enclosure surrounded a great yawning hole that served as entry to the area below. The barren courtyard held little beyond a few wooden benches. The full moon glowed in the night sky, and here, where there were no high walls, trees, or overhanging structures, it cast an eerie half-light. Kale felt more exposed than in any other part of the castle.

A crude ladder made from chopped branches and bound with coarse rope lay against a wall nearby. Shimeran gestured to it, and Dar moved to pick it up. Kale saw the doneel strain against its weight and went to help. Together they maneuvered the end to the edge of the hole and tipped the ladder upright. Hand over hand, they lowered it into the black pit.

Kale wanted to object. Going down that ladder felt like going into a trap, but her bearings on Leetu Bends told her that the kimen was taking them in the right direction.

Shimeran leapt onto the top rungs of the ladder without a sound and quickly disappeared. Dar gestured for Kale to go next, but she shook her head. He stopped beside her, patted her arm, and then stepped down on the second branch rung tied to two long poles. In the gloomy light, Kale watched his ears, perked and twitching, as Dar descended below the rim of the hole.

She cast a glance around the dismal enclosure. Unadorned walls of poorly cut stone looked typical of a poor farmer’s barn, not a wizard’s castle. No beauty of form rested here. The shades of gray and black shadows obscured any attractiveness. Even in the quiet of the place, there was no peace.

She peered into the hole. Down there, turmoil, evil, and danger danced along roughly hewn stone corridors. She heard echoes of horror and couldn’t shake the feeling that this was present distress, not something lingering from the past. Shimeran had gone down the ladder. Dar had followed. Kale reached to touch Leetu’s mind.

We’re coming!
she called, and swung her foot over the top of the ladder, before she could think any more about the terror below.

The wood creaked under her weight. The rungs had not protested a bit as Dar and Shimeran climbed down. But the doneel was half her size, and the kimen so small he could probably float on a stiff breeze. A light flashed into view below her, and she slipped, almost losing her footing. She gasped, clung to the frail ladder, and searched for her companions in the sudden brilliance.

Dar stood beside Shimeran, whose clothing now radiated a golden glow.

“Hope,” he said as he smiled up at her.

“Hope?” she echoed.

“The golden light is a symbol of hope. The most perilous part of our journey through the wizard’s stronghold is already past. There will not be any guards down here to bother us. Nothing but rats and cats and druddums.”

Kale shivered and stepped quickly down the remaining rungs. With her feet on the dirt floor, she put her hands on her hips and eyed the kimen.

“And how about the journey out of the wizard’s stronghold?”

“It will require another color.” He clapped his hands together and scanned the various routes away from the entry. “Which way, Kale?”

Kale patted Gymn through the cape material. The gesture soothed her brittle nerves. She nodded at a dark tunnel veering to the right. Shimeran started off without comment. His bright light bounced off the rock walls. Chisel marks showed where hands holding metal tools had widened the natural tunnel. Moisture clung to the gray stone, and in places, ran in trickles down to the floor, leaving brackish puddles.

The underground tunnels twisted, following a natural pattern. Here and there man’s tools had made tight stretches higher and broader. Some tunnels opened into caverns. Cages made of heavy bars stood empty in these large underground spaces.

Kale stared at hall after hall of unused cells. One looked much like the one before it. None of the caverns were occupied, but all of them were disturbing. Something about the repellent odor also set her on edge. The caverns smelled like an unclean barn. Yet with years of disuse, the granite rooms should smell more like an empty storage shed. She had expected to see suffering and had steeled herself against the horror of this evil prison. Where were the victims of Risto’s harsh hand?

They entered yet another ominously quiet cavern. Shimeran’s light increased and touched the walls. Chains hung from metal pegs driven into the stone. Doors sat at odd angles, none of them enclosing a cage. Kale shivered at the sight of a pile of rags in a corner. At first she had thought it was a person.

Kale could not shake the unsettling feeling of intense misery. She strained to see into the shadows, expecting faces, expecting some sign of life. “This is a dungeon with no prisoners?”

Shimeran’s glow dimmed and changed to a somber blue. “It has been a long time since Risto bothered to keep prisoners alive.”

Kale followed in silence after that. Often a cavern had more than two ways leading out. She pointed whenever Shimeran cast her a questioning look, but he led the way in each case. Dar moved quietly, sometimes in front of Kale and sometimes behind.

Kale concentrated on finding Leetu. The thoughts conjured up by the grim sights around them intruded on her ability. She almost heard whispers, soft cries of despair, and rustling like wind in dry leaves. But there was no wind, there were no leaves. Still the eerie atmosphere bothered her.

“Something is wrong,” she said as they entered yet another empty cavern. “Are we going around in circles?”

“You are directing us,” Shimeran reminded her, walking to the center of the room.

“I know.” Kale sighed. Explaining would be difficult. “I feel Leetu is always ahead of us. But sometimes it feels as if we are just a yard or two away. Then it’s like we passed her and have a long way again.”

Shimeran stopped but didn’t speak. Dar’s ears twitched, showing his nerves were on edge as well.

Kale continued, “At first I thought they might be moving her, and sometimes we were right on their heels, about to catch up, and sometimes they leapt ahead much farther than could be possible if they are truly going around and around in these same tunnels. Something is very wrong.”

“I sense it too,” Dar said. “But my worries stem from the lack of life. There have been no prisoners, no guards, and none of the rats, cats, and druddums you warned us of, Shimeran.”

The kimen’s light dimmed, leaving the walls in shadows. “Let us be quiet.”

Kale wanted to object. She wanted to beg the kimen to brighten the room, but she said nothing. She hated the darkness, the quiet. She thought about Dar pulling out one of his instruments and dispelling the gloom with a lively song. It would be nice to break this somber place with a melody.

As the silence gathered around them, Kale strained her ears to hear something beyond her own breathing. Again, she thought she almost heard sounds of sorrow, a sniff, a sob, a pleading voice.

Tears sprang to her eyes. “Dar,” she whispered.

“What?”

“The room is not empty. The cages are not empty.”

Dar’s eyes widened as he looked around. “More light, Shimeran,” he called. “As much as you can muster.”