Besides describing the horrible conditions, there were a few things that happened during my stay that I need to write down before I forget them. When I was first thrown into the dungeon, I hadn’t had any real contact with gars, other than in that wagon on the way to our ill-fated farming expedition. But now, stuck in a confined space, I was officially a gar. I wanted to know more about them. It wasn’t easy. They were afraid of me, and maybe a little bit loony from being starved and imprisoned. (They didn’t have the outlet of making up lyrics to “Smells Like Teen Spirit.” Poor them.) They didn’t accept me. Most kept their distance, cowering in the shadows and shivering with fear, as if I would hurt them. It took me a while to realize why. Even though I looked like them, I was way different. I was taller and I walked with the authority of a klee. These little guys were always a little hunched over and afraid of their own shadows. To them I was a freak. When I made a move to pick up some fruit that had been tossed down, the gars would back off and let me take what I wanted before helping themselves.
A few times I heard them whispering to each other. I’d try to join in by saying something simple like “Hello?” or “My name is Pendragon.” But they’d immediately shut down and scamper away. It didn’t help that I tried to stay in shape. I constantly did sit-ups and push-ups to keep my muscle tone from going south. But every time I’d start exercising, the gars would huddle together and look at me like I was performing some strange ritual. After a while I gave up trying to communicate with them. It was too frustrating.
I soon began to wonder about the point of it all. Why were we being kept here? Durgen said something about getting “value” from me by selling me to handlers. But after being there for several weeks, there was no sign of a handler or of anybody else who might have bought me. I didn’t think they were going to eat us. If that were the case they’d be feeding us a lot better. Most of the gars down here were skin and bones, not exactly a tempting taste treat for a hungry klee. It all seemed so pointless.
Then one day, with no warning, the wooden door flew open and two klees leaped in. The gars scampered to the far side of the cell in fear, no big surprise. I didn’t. I was too tired to be scared.
The klees scanned the group. One said, “It’s a sorry bunch.” He pointed at two of the bigger gars and said, “Those two!” Without any deliberation, they pounced on the chosen gars and dragged them out of the cell. The gars were terrified, letting out cries of panic. None of the others did anything to save them. To be honest, neither did I. What could I do? I thought about standing up and blowing these cats away by singing a song, or reciting a poem, or telling them about Madden football. You know, anything that would be un-gar-like. But I decided not to draw attention to myself. My job here was about Saint Dane. I figured I shouldn’t do anything that might get me in trouble and stop me from dealing with the bigger picture.
About an hour later the door opened again, and one of the gars was thrown back into the cell. He looked exhausted. He crawled on his hands and knees to a corner and collapsed. He was a mess. Or shouldIsay, a bigger mess than before. Icouldn’t tell for sure, butIthoughtIsaw a dark stain on his chest. From whereIwas sitting, it looked like blood. Ididn’t think it was his, andInever saw the other gar again. Connect the dots. Something nasty had happened.
Days went by. Iwas losing strength. Ihad never been hungry before. Imean, reallyhungry. Missing lunch and getting a little rumble in the tummy didn’t count. This hurt. Ihad long since given up being picky about the food and would have eaten bugs if there had been any around. Ididn’t sleep much, and whenIdid, my dreams were horrible. I always seemed to be running from some horrible fate. I’d wake up in a cold sweat, relieved that I was safe, and then crushed to realize I was still in this prison.
One night I dreamed that I was lying on my back, looking up at the stars through the ceiling grid. The sky was beginning to lighten, which meant it was morning. The silhouette of a large klee appeared above and stared down at me. I looked up at this big cat, thinking how real this dream felt, when the klee snarled and said, “Good morning, Pendragon. Enjoying the morning air?”
Whoa. I sat up quickly. This wasn’t a dream. It was the cat named Timber, from the Council of Klee. Or should I say, it was Saint Dane.
“You really should tidy up a bit,” Saint Dane added. “I can smell you from up here.”
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” I asked angrily. “I’m stuck in here where you can keep an eye on me.”
“Oh no, my friend,” Saint Dane said. “Quite the opposite. I would much rather have you free to match wits. Having you lurking about makes things so much more interesting.”
“Then get me out of here,” I demanded.
“Ahh, if only I could,” Saint Dane replied with mock sincerity. “But it would be wrong to interfere with the ways of the territory. That’s against the rules, you know.”
“Yeah, right,” I said with as much sarcasm as I could generate. “Like that’s ever stopped you before.”
“I will give you a piece of advice though,” Saint Dane added. “There is a way for you to get out. Seize the opportunity when it arrives.”
“What is it?” I demanded to know.
“Good-bye, Pendragon,” Saint Dane said as he slinked away. “Enjoy your day.”
“Saint Dane!” I shouted. I was out of my mind. I jumped up and tried to climb the rock walls, but it was hopeless. They were slick and I only got about a foot off the floor before crashing back down, banging my butt on the stone. I had hit bottom. Literally. I was hungry, I was weak, and Saint Dane had just teased me into losing control. I never liked to show weakness to the demon. I didn’t want him to know he was getting to me. But as of that moment, I had officially been gotten to.
“Black Water,” came a soft voice next to me.
I looked to my right to see that one of the gars had bravely crept a few feet from me. He held his hand out, palm up. Resting in it was one of the mysterious, amber cubes.
“What is Black Water?” I asked.
“Home,” came another weak voice.
The first gar held the cube closer to me, as if he wanted me to take it. I carefully reached out, expecting the gar to pull it away, but he let me take the precious crystal cube right off his hand. I was surprised to feel that the cube was as light as a marshmallow. I handled it gingerly, afraid that if I put any pressure on it, it might crack. I turned it around to examine all sides and discovered that there was a single black side, just like the other cube I had seen. “Soon,” the gar said. “Home.”
“What home?” I asked. “What is Black Water? What’s going to happen?”
“The Advent,” the gar said.
Before I could ask what that meant, the wooden door to the cell screeched open and two klee guards entered. The gar snatched the cube back and tried to hide it in his ragged clothes. Too late. The first klee guard saw it and pounced on the frightened gar.
“What is this?” he shouted. He pulled the cube away from the gar and held it up. “Is it something to do with Black Water? Is that it?”
The gar cowered in the corner, shivering with fear. The klee dropped the amber box onto the stone floor and with one violent move, stomped it. A sickeningcrunchtold me the box was indeed as fragile as I had feared. The other gars jumped, as if the klee had stomped on them. The only thing left of the strange little box was a pile of shattered glass. The gars stared at it, as if their last hope had been crushed right along with it.
The klee grabbed the gar he had stolen the cube from. He lifted the poor guy to his feet, holding him by the back of his neck and hissed. “I’m sure the Inquisitors will convince you to tell us. Guard!” A third klee entered the cell. The first klee guard shoved the gar toward them saying, “He had one of those boxes. Take him to the Inquisitors.”
The third klee dragged the terrified gar from the cell. The first klee pointed to a gar who was on his knees, shivering and crying.
“Him!” the klee ordered. The second klee guard quickly pulled him to his feet. The first klee looked around again until his eyes fell on…me. “And you,” he snarled. “You look like you might give us a decent show.”
I was tired of playing the role of a primitive, docile gar. I slowly got to my feet and stood up to my full height. I actually thought I caught a look of surprise on the klee’s face. He wasn’t used to a gar being so big, or acting so brashly.
“If giving you a decent show will get me out of here,” I said calmly, “then it’s showtime.”
The klees stared at me, dumbfounded. I’m guessing a gar had never spoken to either of them like that. I had thrown them off. I liked that. What I didn’t like was that the gar who was chosen first now looked more terrified than before. He shook his head violently and cried, “No!”
