“Aye. We’ve searched the castle many times. Everything of value here had already been plundered by thieves long ago.”
“I see.” So he really is poor. I’ll talk with Father as soon as I return. These people can’t go on like this.
“So, the years passed. Between Besnik and Froll, they coaxed Stellan out of his shell, and helped him build the modest kingdom he has today. Stellan even managed to recruit a small group of men loyal only to him. You’ll meet them after they return, I’m sure.”
Clarysa nodded. “I’d like to.”
Gretchen stood. “But I’ve talked your ear off. Come, I’ll walk you back to your room. I’m sure you’d like a bath and some fresh clothes.”
Clarysa agreed. On the way, she digested what she had learned. She and Stellan came from such different worlds. Would they be able to find any common ground between them?
Chapter 14
Clarysa recovered completely a few days later. Her first intention was to explore the castle. Gretchen didn’t seem to care what she did as long as she didn’t go outside.
One morning, she encountered a room she had never visited before. She peeked inside, slowly swinging her lantern from left to right. There wasn’t much there–only some rusty armor, a few chests and another doorway, painted green. The door’s surface appeared smooth and clean, unlike anything else belonging to the drab, gray castle.
Clarysa bit her lip. Did the room beyond hide the former king’s resting place? She recalled the story of the mysterious coffin Stellan had found. Her curiosity hungered as if a starved beast, and demanded to be satisfied immediately. With one quick look about her, she stepped into the musty chamber.
Three long strides later she was at the viridian door. It’s probably secured, she thought. But when she took a chance on the iron handle and pushed, the door swung silently open. Well, this is a shock. Now I have to enter!
Grasping the lantern tightly, she entered. The area before her was extremely dark and dank, like a tomb. She could only see a few inches ahead. Lowering the light, she noticed wooden steps disappearing into a lightless abyss. A slight draft slinked up from the depths, sharing its fetid air. Cautiously, Clarysa tried the first step. It seemed solid enough, so she tried the second, then the third. Downward she went into the unknown.
The air grew increasingly colder as she descended. Even as she tightened the thick layers of wrapping she wore, exposed skin voided her body heat like a hemorrhage. Soon, she lost track of how far down she had traveled. Clarysa was thinking about retreating when she arrived at another door. She held up her light. This door was completely black, instantly swallowing up the light, reflecting none of it. How odd. Her breaths sounded alarmingly pronounced in the dead air.
Clarysa ran her other hand along the door’s frigid surface, half expecting to be sucked into a hellish otherworld. She felt indentations. The curious markings were only millimeters in depth, but appeared to cover the entire surface.
Shaking slightly, both from fear and excitement, she jiggled the door handle. The sharp, pointed knob turned easily and the dark slab of wood moved inward. Rays of deep blues and greens spilled out, slicing through the oppressive dark sea surrounding her. Warily, she crept into the room.
Clarysa stared about her in slack-jawed amazement. Hundreds of luminescent containers lined dozens of wooden shelves and emitted a collective spectral glow.
In the center sat a battered wooden table. Several metal instruments, molded to bizarre shapes, were strewn across it. An open book took up one corner. Clarysa didn’t recognize any of the words. The creased, worn pages spoke of frequent use.
What a strange and wondrous place, she thought, drinking in the room’s preternatural delights. What glorious magick does he perform here? A smile spread across her lips at the thought. But this lighthearted elation plummeted when a distinct scratching sound came from beyond the walls. Slight at first, and soft. It must have been a rat, but what in the world could it possibly find to eat in this place?
The sound grew harsher. Now it seemed like nails raking across the walls, accompanied by a low, rhythmic thump. The air turned bitingly cold. A sudden draft blew out the lantern.
In the darkness, something touched her hair.
Clarysa yelped and ran for the exit. She stumbled through the door and shut it quickly, but not before catching a glimpse of an apparition filling the room. A hideous, pulsating entity that defied description. If ever a nightmare were personified in the flesh, it lay beyond that door now.
Wide-eyed in terror, Clarysa bolted up the stairs. The ethereal thump-thumping sound faded with each hurried step. Up and out the green door she flew. Wasting no time, she slammed it closed. Chilly sweat ran in rivers down her skin as she attempted to gather her scattered wits. That is the last time I let my curiosity get the better of me in this place. She headed for the warm, safe kitchen, attempting to purge the noxious terror from her mind. Heaven only knows what kind of horrors Stellan has faced here. Heaven only knows!
* * * *
Much later, after Clarysa had regained some feeling of normalcy and a healthy respect for all things ethereal, she asked Gretchen to show her the throne room. Like her father’s castle, this room had vast murals splayed out across the walls. But these were far different from those back home. These depicted only dark and dangerous images.
Stellan, Gretchen explained, used to spend days creating them, often having nothing more than charcoal and a blank wall. Clarysa absorbed the vistas of giant gargoyles, imps, goblins, and other demonic creatures. Scattered among the sinister illustrations were beautiful, willowy nudes, women with long, flowing hair and dark eyes. They stared at the viewer no matter where one stood.
Next, Gretchen showed her the library, one overrun with heavy, cobwebbed tomes and ornate woodwork. Some of it
