“In the oubliette?” Burton asked. He couldn’t help but question the minister’s sanity. It wasn’t exactly a quick stop. And the idea was irrational. To reach the depths of the oubliette, they would have to use the basket and crank to lower themselves two hundred feet down a well and into the caves deep under-ground. “The caverns are still flooded down there. I guarantee you. And we don’t have time. Savages are on our trail. We need to meet up with the others before we get caught. The princess needs us.”
“We don’t have to go down the well. I put the piece in the basket the last time we came down here and I’ve been waiting to take it back out when I made the proper calculations to engineer the project. I just need a hand turning the crank to bring it up. It will only take a minute. I promise,” Demitri said. “Think of our people.”
Against Burton’s intuition, he agreed. In the future, Demitri will lead the people to new discoveries. The wizard was sure of it. He extracted his star-forged wand, Vandagelle, from the depths of his pocket. A brilliant golden glow emanated from its tip, illuminating the brick walls of the dungeon. The atmosphere radiated a chilling reminder of death. Cries of forgotten souls that had been abandoned decades ago made an impression in the rock and stone. The sound of their once beating hearts still lingered.
Burton and Demitri’s footsteps echoed loudly through the cavernous hall. Burton paced behind, his wand shining starlight. Nearing the end the space opened up to a vaulted room where a rounded brick table was set in its center; the well of the oubliette. Demitri stepped to the edge. The granite brim was moist and draped with moss. Burton gripped the handle to turn the crank with Demitri. They watched the basket lift to the surface. The lever, rusty and spotted with mold, locked and stopped. There was no sign of anything significant inside; only a cloth and small rope whose twine was loose and coming undone.
“So where is it?” Burton asked, looking at the frail fabric and rope. “What did we come down here for?”
His question went unanswered. Burton turned to find that he was now alone. “Demitri,” he called out. But there was no response. As shadows defied his light, the wizard’s wand began to fade against his will. Much of the room’s heat escaped. He heard whispers all around him, some sounding close to his ear. After the last of Vandagelle’s light went out he saw no one but heard Demitri’s voice crying for help in the cold distance. His friend sounded like he was in pain. But the wizard couldn’t see him, nor feel the minister’s energy. Now blinded by an unnatural darkness Burton felt defenseless.
Suddenly, the darkness morphed into the shape of a man and flew straight into him. The force of the impact pushed the air from his lungs. It knocked Burton back against the edge of the well, cracking his head before he fell into the depth of the rock bottom pit. In free fall, he tried to lower his body’s density, hoping to stabilize himself and slow down the speed of his descent, but the enchantment didn’t work; his powers didn’t work. But he was able to level himself enough not to break his neck on impact. Drifting in and out of consciousness, he was numb and his whole body felt like it was broken.
Burton’s fleeting attention captured chanting in an ancient language coming from above, pronouncing each word in reverse. He knew it was a curse. Only the host of the Nekrums could wield a magic so powerful. It must have followed them, Burton thought. But who the host was and what it did with Demitri was a mystery. Throughout the ages the Nekrums had changed their host, sometimes even multiple times a year.
“I know you’re alive down there, wizard, and I know you can hear me. You will never see the light of another day. Every heart will cease to beat after I’m done with this realm. And I’m going to save you for last so you can witness the invasion of Naan; the world you always got the credit for building,” the voice rumbled.
Darkness came before the silence. Burton Lang slipped into a dream at the bottom of a pit where the only path to freedom was now blocked by a spell.
MONTAGUE LA-ROSE led the escape to the end of the tunnels. Since his childhood, he followed the requests and orders of a man who had been exiled from the kingdom of Men. In many ways, he was a criminal. But now, everyone from that very kingdom was looking to Montague to lead them to safety. There were trust and dependency in their eyes, begging for salvation.
For the first time in his life, Montague gave an order. Everyone was to wait at the arched doorway until the wind calmed so as not to send adrift their scent. “Mages can smell fear like dogs,” Montague explained.
When the wind subsided, Montague instructed the escape party to walk in single file toward the forest. He took the princess by the hand while Gretchen gripped his opposite arm and walked alongside. The touch of Olivia’s fingers reminded Montague of how important she was and how careful he must be. Now that her parents were gone, he was responsible for her safety. But Montague felt as though he was only returning the favor.
He had first come to the castle with his father more than ten years ago. It was at the appreciation dinner where the princess saved Montague from the embarrassment of not knowing how to dance. All farmers were invited to a banquet with the king and queen in the castle hall. Before the party began, Montague paced back and forth in
