When Darkness Falls

Chapter 8: RESCUE�OR ESCAPE?

Chapter 8: RESCUE…OR ESCAPE?
King Ciptian watched as the smooth stones of the castle corridors quickly turned into rough tunnels of the mountains.  Will alone was keeping him from collapsing to the hard cold rock beneath him.  His breath came to him in short gasps as he fearfully stumbled on without light to guide him. 
The creature behind could sense his weariness and was eager to get a hold of its prey.  Long had he awaited the fall of the Elven King who so long ago imprisoned him to the dark recesses of the Earth.  He had pleaded the king for his life like a beggar in need of food.  He had bowed down to him and groveled at his feet.  The very memory disgusted him.  But he had escaped, cunningly forcing through the barrier that had held him in place and then he had joined Rashaka.  The one being that seemed to have a right mind in the now modern world as he had spent year upon year imprisoned in that cage of misery.  Together, Rashaka had said to him, they would conquer the elves, making them suffer as they had done to them.  And then man, who’s ignorance to elven kind would be found a mistake.  Men were weak, he had said, and will do as the high power said.  Rashaka would be that high power and all who opposed would be disposed of.  The dwarves, gnomes, zorg, and others were already in his service save for retched few, which were, at this very moment, being hunted down.  Soon, he promised, they would own the world.  But Krothganbier knew better than this.  He had received information from someone who was with Rashaka constantly, who knew all his secrets that in the end, Kroth would be disposed of and Rashaka would take all the power for himself.  He would not let that happen and Ciptian would help him with that.
Krothganbier, unlike the king in front of him, could see quite clearly in the dark.  It had been his very life in that ghastly prison he had been forced into along with others.  He knew he would have his prize soon.
Ahead of him the king suddenly stumbled and Kroth was quickly on him.  The weak elf was no match for him and was easily pinned, not without a fight of course.  Kroth held his arms behind his back and shoved him against the wall.  He grunted and his head fell forward.
“Now, Ciptian, you are at my mercy.  When I am through with you, you will be begging me for death.  But not yet, no, for now, I have better uses for you.”  Kroth quickly sedated him and smiled wickedly.
                                                     
Wimble woke with a start, hearing the sounds of battle behind him.  His entire body ached from head to toe.  His shoulder was bleeding freely along with numerous other cuts all over his body.  Kyron was nowhere to be found.
“Kyron”, he said weakly.  “Kyron!”  He pulled himself to a tree and tried to stand but fell back dizzy with pain.  He leaned back and breathed deeply, and then he tried again.  He struggled to stand again and again without success.  Finally, with his remaining strength, he dragged himself over back to his place among the brush and gave himself up for dead.  The sounds started getting softer and Wimble saw a light.  Not right in front of him but close by.  It steadily drew nearer and Wimble was sure he was seeing the light so often described in near death situations.  The light was getting higher now, but still, always, closer.  Then it was right above him.  He did not have the strength to shield his eyes so he just closed them waiting for the end to come that was so close.  But nothing happened.  He opened his eyes to see if he were somewhere else, somewhere wonderful but he was still wet, hurting, and laying on the forest floor.
“Are you all right?”  The voice made him jump.  The voice was that of a woman’s.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you.  Here let me help you up.”  Strong and gentle hands wrapped around Wimble and he was lifted to his feet only to fall down again and be caught.  “You can’t stand can you?  Oh!”  She saw his bloody shoulder and torn garments. “I’m so sorry!  I didn’t know you were so badly wounded.  Did that man leave you here?  The one from the river?  Can you talk?”  Wimble suddenly jerked up.
“Kyron?!”
“So you can talk!  His name was Kyron was it?  That sounds…oddly familiar.  I’m sorry.  I must get you back to the city-”
“Arya.”
“You look terrible-”
“Arya.”
“How am I to carry both of you?”
“Arya!”  The woman’s eyes grew large.
“E-excuse me?  What did you say?”
“Arya.  Your name’s Arya?”
“Yes but how did you-”
“Kyron…look for Arya…captured by Zorg…escape…river.”  He shuddered. 
Arya was speechless.  This man, this Kyron, was looking for me?  All of a sudden, a thunder of shouts rang out from the woods, the sound of a great multitude, and she plainly heard the sound of running horses right behind her.  Arya grabbed Wimble and ran to the left, setting him down a little ways off from where they had been and then ran back.
She bent down over the ground, frantically looking for Ma before it was too late.  She had come here after the man, Kyron, as she now knew his name, had left wondering where his partner from the river was.  She knew it had been risky but it seemed as if something had drawn her toward the little creature.
Arya heard the pounding of hooves coming closer.  “Thrashtuk wynedgadum!” she cried out in desperation.  A blue light lit up Ma’s body several yards in front of her.  She raced toward her and almost reached her when she saw Kyron burst through the trees closely followed by the nightriders.
Arya screamed and threw herself the last few feet on top of Ma to protect her and, hopefully, get out of the way.
                                                     
Kyron left Arya sitting on the forest floor hoping that he was doing the right thing in leaving her behind.  He couldn’t believe he had actually contacted her, of all elves! At least, he thought, I know that she is safe after all, thank you Lord! But am I to assume that if I get killed in what I’m about to do that she will be safe?  I don’t know what to think anymore. He looked down gloomily as he continued to walk toward the battle. Should I have told her who I am?  No.  That would only make things more complicated.  It’s better for her not to know.  And yet…I still wonder for her safety.  I don’t even know if this plan will work yet. He reached the dying battle and an arrow flew over his head. Well, I can hope. 
Kyron eased himself from foot to foot.  His side ached horribly and his exhaustion was overwhelming.  He tried focusing his eyes, looking for the nightriders in the haze of the fire.  Sparks were flying everywhere.  They singed his clothes and burned his skin but he knew that they were still in here. 
Kyron walked forward carefully, stepping over fallen bodies with a sense of guilt.  He could still hear shouts around him as the remaining archers fought to stay alive.  Not only from the nightriders were they dying.  As the fire grew bigger they were consumed by it and had to continually move making it hard to get a good shot at the enemy.
Kyron held his bow readily in his hand with his shoulders tense waiting for an attack.  Quite suddenly, the smoke grew thick and Kyron could barely see a few inches in front of him.  Then it cleared and Kyron froze.  He was surrounded.  Only seven of them were here so he assumed the rest were still fighting the remaining archers.  One of the riders moved forward on their horse and spoke.
“You who holds the power, come with us.”  His voice was like an eerie whisper, cold and blank.  “Come without fighting and we will not harm you.  Lay down your weapons and step forward.”
( “Who holds the power?”  All of the elves here hold ‘power’. ) This just made things worse.  The last thing Kyron was going to do was put down his weapons.  He may have been tired, but he wasn’t stupid. 
“What is your answer, human?”  That one threw Kyron back.  Human?  So apparently these nightrider things were really not Zorg?   But what really made Kyron wonder was why they had gone so far to catch him.  Normally a group would chase you if you escaped but to send their fastest and then stand to fight an ambush and try to capture the escapee, well that was a little much.  Kyron gulped and answered.
“No!  You can’t take me alive!”
“Well if not alive than in pieces!”  The nightrider drew his sword pointing it inward toward Kyron and charged.  The others did the same.
Kyron dropped to the ground in a crouch and watched quickly to see which of the riders would reach him first. The one on the left. He saw a small gap between the horse going fastest and the one tailing it.  That small gap was enough to give him a chance.
When the horse was nearly upon him he swiftly rolled sideways between the horses’ legs dropping his bow in the process. Well, so much for that. He jumped up and dashed in the opposite direction with the horses trailing behind him.
Suddenly, the three missing riders bolted into his path.  He skidded to a halt and turned left again weaving his way through the trees toward the river, the only place he had left.  Normally he would have stayed among the trees to give the disadvantage to the horses but trees seemed to be no problem for these horses.  They dodged in and out with the speed of an arrow, keeping a steady pace with Kyron. 
He just hoped he wasn’t headed toward where he had left Wimble.  Now that he had gotten them away from the archers, as he had planned, he didn’t know what to do with them. How could I have been so foolish?  This is what Arya was talking about.  I’ll just have to make it up as I go along; after all, it just worked once.
Just as he made this decision he saw the last person he wanted here right now, Arya.
                                                     
Arya watched horrified as the riders drew nearer.  Then Kyron looked at her face and yelled.
“Run!”  Arya fearfully stood up and picked up Ma.  “Faster!”  He started running toward her and she started running.  It was difficult to carry Ma and run very fast at the same time but as she got over the shock of the first sighting of the enemies, she started getting faster, realizing if she didn’t, she would die; Ma would die.
Kyron caught up to her and ran beside Arya, but her pace wasn’t fast enough, the riders were catching up. 
“Give her to me”, Kyron yelled holding out his arms.  Arya didn’t argue but it was difficult handing her over and running at the same time.  Now she was able to move faster and they both sped up.
Kyron knew he could not go on much longer like this.  His entire side was almost numb with pain and it was a struggle to keep his legs moving.
Arya looked at him in worry.  She could see his pain a saw cuts and bruises.  She had no clue where they were headed and was worried for the small, boyish creature she had left behind.  It was hard to breath because the wind blew great columns of smoke towards them.
“Where are we going”, she asked.  He looked at her for a moment and then answered.
“Away from them.” 
Well, , she thought that’s not exactly the answer I wanted. Ahead of them the river loomed ever nearer. I hope he doesn’t plan to go back in there. 
They broke clear of the woods and a mighty roar greeted their arrival.  Kyron’s heart went to his throat.  Bashinma elves were covering the entire waterfront.  This very was good and yet very bad.  They now had aid against the nightriders and Arya would be safe.  But if he entered back among these people he would not just be captured or slain immediately like the night riders would have done.  No, he would spend his days rotting in a prison with people thinking him a spy or traitor.  He knew there would be those who would think he had led these monsters to them.  He would be destroyed always remembered as the murderer they thought he would be.
He looked at Arya and saw that she had tears of joy streaming down her face.  They ran until they were right in front of the army but they didn’t lower their weapons.
“Halt”, said one.  “Who goes there?”
“I am Arya Ciptian daughter of King Ciptian of the West Elves.  And she,” she indicated toward Ma, “is Miss Tuffle of Bashinma.”  The elf looked at the man carrying Ma. 
“And who might you be?  Not often do we get men so close to the gates of Bashinma.”  The elf saw fear in the man’s eyes that made him suspicious.
“I am no one of concern and will leave as quickly as possible, my good sir.”  He inclined his head slightly and made a move to run off but before he could, the soldier grabbed his arm.
“Hold just one minute.  What are you doing here?”  The soldier looked at Kyron with a frown.
“I would not be here if it weren’t for the Zorg.  I was captured yesterday by a troop of them at the entrance to the canyon on my way North.  I escaped and was pursued by these riders”, he indicated to the nightriders now surrounded by nearly the whole army.  “I jumped into the river to try to escape them but their horses are the fastest I’ve seen.  They kept up with me and soon we came to the woods where they attacked a group of archers, how they knew they were there I don’t know, I didn’t see them.  Once they were in the woods I got out of the river and went in because I heard a woman scream.  I came upon Arya and her injured friend.  The riders found us so we fled and found ourselves here.”  Well, at least it was partly true. 
Arya looked at him with wide eyes.  Why would he lie to the soldier?  And, now that she thought about it, how could this man have contacted her?  Men didn’t have the ability to use magic.
“And”, the soldier said, “you were able to keep up with an elf?”  Oh, Arya thought, I hadn’t thought of that.  A man can’t keep up with an elf.
The blood drained from Kyron’s face.  “You’d be surprised what you can do in life and death situations.”  He knew this was a dumb answer but it was all he could think of without exposing who he really was.
The elf soldier’s face hardened.  He beckoned over three more soldiers and whispered instructions to them.  One walked up to Kyron and took Ma and the other two stood behind Kyron.  Then he soldier looked to Arya for he knew she was not lying.  He could see a necklace around her neck with the royal crest.
“Is this true, your highness?”  Arya looked over at Kyron in hesitance.  He definitely wasn’t telling the truth but looking into his pleading eyes she felt pity for him and an odd feeling that she ought to trust him.  She then looked to the soldier.  If she lied and Kyron turned out to be an enemy, she wouldn’t be able to live with herself.  She kept her gaze away from Kyron’s, feeling rather guilty and answered.
“No, good sir.  The first time he met me in the woods I was running away from the battle and he towards it.  We ran in to each other and he explained he felt guilty about all the elves dying and was going to stop the riders, how he didn’t tell me.”  Out of the corner of her eye she saw his head drop in dismay.  “Th-the second time, sir, he was being pursued by the riders and we ran together hoping to escape the woods.  He carried Ma-I mean Miss Tuffle for me so that I would not lag behind.”  She looked at the soldier a moment longer and looked at the ground with a red face.  She had purposely left out the part about communicating to possibly reduce the intenseness of his punishment.  She didn’t know if it would help.
The elf soldier looked at Kyron hard and then gave the men orders to bind him.  And, Arya noticed, they did it none to gently.  The soldier took off his cloak, which revealed that he was not a soldier but a captain.  He walked over to the elves surrounding the nightriders and told a small group to go into the woods in search of survivors.  Then Arya remembered Wimble.  She turned around quickly and looked at Kyron.
“Your fri-”, she stopped herself remembering she had not mentioned Wimble to the captain and she didn’t know if she wanted the guards hearing her.  “I think you left something in the woods when we were running.  A, uh, green something.”  Kyron’s head snapped up and he looked at her trying not to show how disappointed he was in her.  After all, he was a stranger to her.  I’ll ask the captain if I can go get it.”  She started walking toward the captain and then turned around and looked at him with an honest expression. “I’ll take good care of it, don’t worry.”  She turned around and walked to the captain.
                                                     
The king stirred on the floor of the dungeon stiff, and sore.  He found the floor to be cold and wet and he was surrounded by total darkness.  Ciptian sat up and wrapped his arms around his legs for warmth while he waited for his eyes to get adjusted so he could take in his surroundings.  The minutes passed by slowly as he listened to the perpetual drip of water to the stone floor from whatever lay above. 
Gradually his sight strengthened and he could pick out the dark outline of the door in front of him.  From the door was a set of steps that descended down to the floor where he now huddled.  When his sight sharpened more yet, he realized that there were skeletons here from ages past where they had been forgotten and slowly starved to death clutching the chains that bound them to the wall.  Luckily, the king had not been chained.
The king tensed as the sound of footsteps echoed off the stone walls and he quickly got up and moved to one of the walls so he would see the visitors before they saw him.  By the sound of it, there was more than one.
The footsteps stopped outside of his cell and he heard the rattle of keys sliding into the keyhole and then the click of the lock.  The first thing the king saw was the bright glare of the torch causing him a moment’s blindness.  When he could see again, what he saw made his blood run cold.  In front was an armed soldier holding the torch and behind him…a Raok.
He sat there remembering the flight through the castle and then that terrifying moment when he stumbled in exhaustion condemning him to this fate.  What had become of him since then?  How long had he been here?  Where was here? 
The Raok started to descend the stairs and the king couldn’t help but wonder what it wanted with him. Why did he capture me in the first place?  I would understand if he came with an army to tear down the elven city and I was a prisoner of war, but this is something more than just the city.  It almost seems…personal.
The king stood as the two approached watching cautiously for any threatening gestures.  They stopped a few feet away from him and the Raok took a step forward motioning for the soldier to leave the room.
“I take it that you had a good sleep?” he said mockingly.
“What do you want, Raok?”
“Do you not know, your highness?”  He said the last part in a mock bow.  “Think back, years ago.”  The king stood dumbfounded by this hint that he was giving him. Years ago?  The only thing that sticks out from years ago was the… the king went ridged.
“Krothganbier!  You escaped.  How?” Kroth smiled wickedly. 
“Bravo.  You thought you were through with me, did you not?  You should have destroyed me when you had your chance.  You elves are to soft, preserving the life even of your most feared enemies.  Look where it has gotten you now, oh mighty king!”
“Have the others escaped as well?  Are they roaming about looking for me like you?”
“All have gotten out, yes, but we did not escape.”  The king looked at him curiously.  “The powerful Lord Rashaka freed us from that eternal nightmare you banished us to.  All serve him and do his will.  Together we will destroy the race of the elves and the other races will bow down to us as we reign over all.”  Rashaka, the king thought.  The name meant nothing to him.
“Did this Rashaka send you?”
“No.  I, unlike the others, don’t worship him as an idol.  I respect his power, true, but I am my own master.”  There was an eerie silence.  “I have answered every question you have asked and now it is your turn.”  Ciptian cringed.  He knew the questions Kroth asked would be none that he would answer even if he could.  “Your daughter, Ellesmera she said, though I now know her name to be Arya-”, King Ciptian started.
“She said?  Where is she?  What have you done with her?  How did you-”
“Silence!  Luckily for you, she escaped us and is now in Bashinma where she met her follower which brings me to this: who is he?”
“Who is who?”
“Her follower of course!  Who is this man that has trailed her since before even I found her?  The man who gave her the egg!” Follower?  Man?  Egg?
“I honestly have no idea what you are talking about.  I knew nothing about a follower or whatever this egg is you are talking about.  How did you know that she met him in Bashinma?”
“Don’t fool with me!  I know this is no coincidence!  Someone sent that man and I want answers!  And as for how I knew, a band of zorg working for Rashaka captured the man and some other little creature.  I had spies among them and they chased them once they escaped.  I know much about this now tell me the truth!”  The Raok had gotten so close in his anger that if he was any closer, Ciptian was sure he would see what was in the impenetrable darkness in the hood.
“I swear!  I know nothing about this man!”  Kroth swiftly stepped forward and hit the king sending him backwards into the wall where he hit his head and fell limply to the ground.
  “We will see…we will see.”  Krothganbier turned and left the room.
                                                     
Wimble lay there alone on the damp forest ground wondering if the others would have a chance to come back and get him.  With those creatures roaming around, he doubted they would.
Why did Kyron leave me, he wondered.  Was he forced to leave, maybe by those creatures, or could he have left because he wanted nothing to do with me anymore?  And what about that Arya girl?  I know she left because of the riders, but will she come back?
Wimble crawled further into the brush as it started to rain but it did little to protect him from the cold steadily growing drops.  He shivered and closed his eyes hoping to go to sleep so that he would not notice the air getting colder and the rain harder.  His injuries made him weak and tired so he fell asleep quickly.
Wimble woke with a start. It had stopped raining and the stars were starting to disappear.  Soon the sun would rise so he guessed he had slept for several hours but he did not know what it was that woke him.  He propped himself on the arm that he could still use and looked through the brush that surrounded him.  A slight wind blew the braches of the trees and swirled the leaves but he saw nothing that could have woken him.  He finally decided it was the pain in his shoulder and lay down to try and resume his dreamless sleep.
No sooner had he laid his head down when he heard leaves crackling and twigs snapping behind him.  His eyes snapped open and he turned around, as quiet as a barn owl.  Once again he saw nothing but this time he could sense it.  He didn’t think it knew where he was but it was looking for him.  He kept himself in an upright position to watch for a glimpse of the thing searching for him, whatever it was.
He waited a few minutes and neither heard nor saw anything.  Finally, when the wind rose to a fierce howl, he saw something approaching toward him from his right.  The thing was headed directly for him and he had no way to run and he knew crawling was helpless so he sat there sweating and waiting for the arrival of the caller.
“Wimble?  Is that you?”  Wimble almost cried with relief, someone had come for him at last.
“I’m here.”
“I’m sorry if I frightened you, but I had forgotten exactly where I had put you and I couldn’t call out to you for fear that the soldiers would hear.  They know I’m looking for something Kyron left in the woods when we fled, they just don’t know what.  Though one of them seemed eager to get to the river for some reason.”
“Soldiers?  What about the riders?”
“The riders chased Kyron and I to the edge of the woods-”, Well, thought Wimble, at least I know he didn’t leave me intentionally, “and we found a whole host of elven soldiers waiting there.  They surrounded the riders and took us in.”  She hesitated not wanting Wimble to know what she had done to Kyron.  “Uh, Kyron will be glad to know you are safe.”  She looked at Wimble and noticed his eyes were sagging.  He was shivering and he was wet and she could see pain mirrored in his eyes.  “Here, we had better get you back.  You look awful.”  She walked forward, gently pulled him out of the brush, and carried him like a sleeping baby.
She had ditched the soldiers that had been sent with her to protect her from any unknown dangers that may have still been in the woods, in order to find Wimble.  She decided that she would say she hadn’t been able to find what she had dropped, but she had found this poor wounded creature lying in the brush.
She wound her way to the place she had left the soldiers and found them to be gone. They’re probably off looking for me, she thought with a sigh.  She trudged onward and found puddles of dark liquid on the ground.  They became more frequent the further she went on.  The sight of them gave her goose bumps and made the hair on the back of her neck raise.
She bent down to investigate one just below the top of a hill and found it to be blood.  The puddle was smeared forward toward the top of the rise.  She stepped back in horror and then started toward the top of the hill hoping she would not find what she knew would be there.
Once there she gasped in dismay at what lay before her.  The bodies of the soldiers littered the ground, bloodied and torn to pieces.  She could barely stand it. Luckily, Wimble was unconscious and he did not see it.  But then someone’s arm twitched.  Arya set Wimble down and ran tearfully to the young soldier.  When she got closer, she recognized him at once.  It was the elf who had so desperately wanted to go to the river, Namro.
She knelt down and held his hand.  “Namro”, she cried.  “What has happened?”
“Go”, he said with an effort.  “Go…it’s a tr-”
“Shh.  Just rest now everything will be fine.”
“No.”  He reached up and grabbed her arm.  “Trap…run!”  He looked up at her and then his grip eased and his head rolled back. A whimper escaped Arya’s lips and she softly laid his head on the ground. A dark shadow moved across the death site.  Arya looked up and saw red eyes looking at her with anticipation.  Arya screamed and ran back up the hill, hoisting up Wimble, and fled from the woods seeing the dead soldiers in her mind over and over again.
She reached the river and ran up it to where she could see the great mass of soldiers standing.  The sound of hoof beats trailed after her as she ran.  Once in ear shot of the army she yelled and the soldiers turned.  They jumped up and grabbed their weapons some running towards her.  The rider was almost on her now and he reached out his arm to grab her.
One of the soldiers stopped pulling out his bow, aiming at the rider.  An arrow flew by Arya’s head and she ducked.  It hit the rider’s hand and it screeched an ear-piecing note.  The horse stopped and reared.  The rider was looking at the nine in captivity.  The riders surrounded reared as well and galloped toward their comrade jumping over and plowing down soldiers as they went.
Arya who had kept running jumped out of the way as they came racing past.  The lone rider turned and ran with the others out of sight.
                                                     
King Ciptian wearily sat up and put a hand to his throbbing head.  He wasn’t quite sure how long he had been out, but he knew it must have been quite a while.  His stomach rumbled loudly and he was very thirsty.  Ciptian stood up from his slouched position on the wall and went toward the sounds of water dripping from the ceiling.  He held out his tongue to try and get a few drops of moisture.  The water was bitter and the king quickly spit it out but the foul taste remained.
King Ciptian walked over to the door and climbed up the stairs to look out the bars in hope of some form of life.  He tripped over something at the top of the stairs and landed on his face.  Looking down the king saw a tray of food and a pitcher of water, which, to his delight, he had not knocked over.  He hastily picked up the tray and sat down.  The meal contained stale bread, moldy cheese, and warm water, which the king drank gratefully.
Once finished, Ciptian leaned against the wall next to the door thinking about the past events.  He thought about Arya and the scroll, Kroth and Bashinma, but what he thought of most was that mystery man and the egg.  Is he dangerous, he wondered. He is apparently not working for this Rashaka man or for Krothganbier, so why does he follow Arya?  What is this egg they speak of?  Why is it so important? 
He sat by the door for an eternity.  Time meant nothing to him any longer as he slumped against the rough wall on the cold stone floor in the shadows of the dungeon.  He could have sat there for minutes, hours, possibly even days.  Every once in a while he would stir out of his trancerous state to lift the pitcher of water to his lips and drink a refreshing breath of life.  Then he would go still once more and one could never tell if he was asleep or awake, alive or dead.
Ultimately, his peculiar silence was disturbed by the familiar sound of footsteps echoing through the dungeon.  King Ciptian swiftly got to his feet and hastened down the stairs so he would not be knocked off when the door opened.
He had just reached the bottom of the stairs when the keys slid into the door and the lock clicked.  He turned around to face the door already knowing who would enter through it.  To his surprise, it was not Krothganbier that entered, but six armed guards.  They came quickly down the stairs and bound his hands behind his back and marched him up the stairs.  There were two in front of him holding torches, two beside him, one on either side, each holding an arm, and two flanking him also holding torches.
Once out the door, they led him down a wide stone hallway.  Like his dungeon, water dripped from the ceiling and ran down the walls.  The walls of the hallway were covered in slime and rats ran across their path.  Soon they reached a narrow stairwell and one of the soldiers went before him and one behind staying very close all the time.
The staircase spiraled up steeply with no windows or doors branching off.  The further they went on, the more aware the king seemed to become.  He started discerning his surroundings more and noticing himself making mental notes of things like dints in the walls that resembled footholds, or how well armed his guards were as if making a plan to escape.  The idea shocked him so much he stopped dead in his tracks earning himself the immediate blade point to the back.
He started forward once more trying to drive the thoughts out of his head but the more he thought about it the more he realized, it just might work.  He now concentrated on possible phrases he could use to make this work effectively as possible.  He settled on one and called up the power.  Loudly and clearly he said, “Surae tosormic”, meaning “darkness take hold”.
The soldiers shouted in alarm as their torches went out and they stumbled on the stairs.  The charm was simple, but effective and the king quickly knocked aside the three guards in front of him taking flight up the stairs with the clanking and crashing of soldiers rolling down the stairs.  With his arms still tied and complete darkness around him, the enchantment had only been in that small area but he had no torch, he stumbled quite frequently trying to remember the words to rid him of the rope.
Coonsnaka, no, oufanco, no…I’ve got it!  “Ounaka funchico”, he muttered.  A dim light flared around Ciptian and the rope fell to the ground leaving him free to feel the walls to support himself.  He heard the distant clanging of the soldiers chasing after him and he sped up.  All of the sudden, he hit his head on something very hard and collapsed to the floor with a throbbing headache.  He sat for a minute waiting for the immediate pain to subside and then slowly stood up feeling the smooth cold texture of…wood!  Ciptian felt around for a handle but found none so he tried pushing on the trap door with his shoulder.  It didn’t budge.
The voices were getting closer now and he frantically pushed the door with all his might without victory.  The soldiers were closing in and he did the last thing he could think of: he blasted off the door.  The king knew that this could, in fact arouse the entire castle or fortress or whatever he was in but he had to take that chance.
A chorus of yells sounded behind him as he leaped up the whole to find himself in an abandoned storage room.  He looked around to find something to block the hole in place of the door and his eyes settled upon a large, dusty, grinding stone.  With a few words the thing was hovering toward him and he directed it to the top of the whole just as the first guard came into sight.
Breathing heavily, he started toward the one and only door in the room hoping, praying to the gods of all that he would find deliverance from this place of evil, wherever it was.  He reached the door and pulled on the handle holding his breath.  The door opened easily without a sound and it led to, once again, a flight of stairs.  Like the other, it was all stone and windowless but torches in brackets lined the walls and they were somewhat smoother.  This was both a good and bad sign to King Ciptian.  The good of it was that he was getting closer to ground level and therefore a way of escape, the bad was that it also meant he was getting closer to civilization which meant a high likelihood of getting caught.
He jogged up the stairs at a steady pace watching the walls closely, hoping that if someone was coming he would see their shadow before they saw his. 
He completed climbing the stairs without incident and reached a large circular room with corridors branching off in all directions.  He stopped, studying them intently trying to decipher which way to go when the sound of an army met his ears.  It sounded to be so many coming from all directions that he panicked.  He ran to the corridor two down from him and found that the noise was not as loud here.  He stood and waited for the army of men to appear standing just out of view in the entrance of the passageway.
He had to wait only a moment when the soldiers came running in through the corridor directly across from him.  They turned down the one he had just come out of.  The king knew they would be back quickly and decided to go up the passageway the soldiers had just come through hoping it led to higher ground.
                                                     
Kyron sat alone in a high up tower wondering how things could have gone so incredibly wrong.  He wasn’t supposed to be locked up here in a tower while Princess Arya was down below unaware of the dangers she now faced.  It was his job to protect her and he had failed.  Five days had passed since he was taken to this tower and so far, to the extent of his knowledge, his punishment had been undecided. Kyron tried not to be angry with her for turning him in but it was very difficult.
“Lord”, he whispered to himself.  “If I have gone wrong please forgive me.  Help me to see your hand through all of this and to trust that you will make a way for your deeds to be done.  Help me to see your holy light so that I may not judge others.  Please protect Arya while I am unable and if I am to die here…I know it is for a cause even if I cannot see it…”
The rattle of keys sounded at the door and Kyron jerked his head upright.  One of his cell guards stepped in along with someone completely covered in a traveling cloak so he could not see their features.  Once they were both in the guard went back out the door and shut it with a thump.
The person seemed to stare at him a moment then they lifted back their cowl, self-consciously touching their pocket.  Kyron gasped.  “Arya?!”
“Shhh!  No one must know I am here.  You are, after all, a prisoner of Bashinma and I a princess of elves.”  She studied him a moment and then pressed on.  “Who are you?  As the soldier said, men don’t usually come around these parts anymore.  And another thing, why-how did you know my name?  And what were you doing in the woods?  And-” she stopped seeing the desperate expression the prisoner wore.  “I-sorry.”  She looked down at the floor.  An awkward silence filled the room and Arya was just about to say something when Kyron spoke.
“It’s funny how things turn out.  You, here in your destined place and me…in a place I swore to nev-” he stopped and looked quickly up at Arya then back down at the floor.  Arya’s curiosity about this man was at its peak but she held her tongue and let him take his own pace.  Kyron swallowed and looked back up at Arya.  “My name is Kyron.  I know you have many questions but please understand I cannot answer them all, not yet anyway.”
  “Well, Kyron, you will be happy to know I found Wimble, in fact he is sleeping in a hospital bed right now.”  Kyron noticed an edge in her voice and knew immediately that something was wrong.
“Did something happen?”
“There was-the Raok attacked again while I was in the woods.”  Her eyes were welling up with tears and Kyron was so shocked he couldn’t utter a word.  She looked to the ceiling as if to see something up there to give her comfort.  When she found none, she continued.  “I had left the guards that were sent with me because they didn’t know I was going to get a person and I didn’t want Wimble to end up imprisoned like you.  I found him after a little while of searching.  He didn’t look very good at all and I went back to where I had left the guards but they weren’t there.”  Tears were rolling freely now down her cheeks and she looked at Kyron with horror filled expression.  “I looked for them and found them a-all d-dead.  It was all my f-fault.  I never should have-” Kyron held up his hand knowing she was in obvious distress.  He didn’t want to pain her anymore than she already was.  She was fingering a round bulge, now made visible by her touching it, in a pocket at the front of her cloak.
“I’m sorry you had to repeat that.  I know how it feels when one feels they are the cause for terrible things to happen.  If I hadn’t been so careless none of this would have happened.”
“B-but how was it your f-fault?”  She sniffed.  “You didn’t tell me to go into the-”
“Just trust me on this, alright?”  He was immediately sorry for his tone of bitterness as Arya looked down at the floor tears flowing anew.  “Look, I’m sorry for wasting your time.  You probably have more important things to attend.  Goodbye.”  She looked at him once more with grief filled eyes and left the room, pulling her cowl once more over her head as she left.
Now what have I done?  She probably hates me all the more.
                                                     
Rashaka paced his chamber restlessly awaiting the arrival of Kroth.  He knew what had happened.  Krothganbier had sent his blood lusting servants after Arya instead of going after her himself, thus letting her escape once again.  He did not know what the Raok had been doing during the time but he planned to find out.  He was turning out to be quite unreliable and would most definitely suffer the consequences.
The door to his left creaked open and a startlingly beautiful young lady stepped through the door and did a curtsy.  Her hair was black, like a starless winter night, her skin the color of cream, as soft as butter.  Her face was that of a fairy, smooth jaw line, small nose, all but the sharp red eyes glowing with a tantalizing aurora of power.
As Rashaka looked at her his expression did not soften.  He had many such servants roaming about the castle doing what he commanded but this one, Maluadry, he had been recently using as a spy among those he did not trust.  He waited with expectance.
“Your excellency, your power is greater than all others, your servants obedient to death.  I am here to serve you in whatever way you please.  With a mighty hand, you will conquer the land and all that is due will be yours.”  So was it Rashaka’s command that all must say when they enter his presence.
“Voice your business, Maluadry.  My impatience is mounting.”
“Your servant has come to inform you that-”
“Speak freely”, he said with an edge.  The girl looked at him coolly.
“I have come with news of the West Elves.  Their king, Ciptian, was kidnapped not but two nights ago.  They say-” A sudden blast of wind blew through the room and a black light, quickly expanding, hovered in the center.  Maluadry stood unshaken where Rashaka had left her, hair billowing all about her face.  A moment later Krothganbier was standing in the middle of the room with all wind ceased.  He glanced briefly at the servant girl and then stepped toward Rashaka who seemed to be fuming with rage.
“How dare you burst into my private chambers uninvi-”
“I have come, as you asked, as quickly as possible.”  Rashaka glowered at him.
“You have disappointed me once again, Kroth”, he said the hint of a smile in his eyes, hands folded in front of him.  “You know what this means…” Kroth stood ridged as Rashaka started to circle him.  “I think…Proagonis should do nicely.”  The Raok hissed.  “No?  Then how about, Nortuscal?”  Before Kroth had a chance to respond he was on the floor screaming in agony as his power was stripped of him with an excruciating burning sensation coursing through his veins.
Maluadry grimaced at the high-pitched shriek and she quickly transformed into a small dragon, which was a bit more comfortable. Rashaka didn’t seem to notice.  Eventually the shrieks died down and ceased all together and the Raok lay twitching on the ground.
Rashaka walked over to him and looked down at him with a sneer.  “Get up.”  Krothganbier continued to lie on the ground.  “I said get up you fool!”  Kroth slowly rose to his feet.  “I have been merciful and taken only half of your powers.  You should thank me.  You shall receive the rest of it when you prove your value to me.  Now go and see that you make things right.”  Kroth stood still, apparently trying to transport. When he failed, he walked to the balcony and whistled.  He waited a moment and then jumped only to rise once more into sight on the back of a large beast flying towards the moon.
                                                     
The corridor was warmer than the others, he took that to heart.  King Ciptian jogged up the stairs with mounting hope as he saw that the passage was well lit.  But he had to find a way out of there quickly.  By now the guards would have realized what had happened and would be in heavy pursuit.  He imagined he heard the faint clank of metal on rock and quickened his steps.
  Soon he saw a white light before him growing steadily bigger and brighter.  His first thought was Guards! but as he neared he discovered it was the welcoming light of day.  Tears leaked down his face both from joy and the intensity of the light.  But then, he stopped.   What am I doing?  Just busting out here unknowing is just foolish.
The king slowly crept onward listening for the faintest sound, watching for the slightest movement.  And then he was at the end peering around the corners, squinting into the sunlight.  He appeared to be in a hallway in some sort of castle.  The place had a dreary look about it.  The doors were black and cobwebs hung in the corners.  The walls and floor were flawlessly smooth with an artistic flare that only dwarves can take credit of. 
Ciptian cautiously stole into the hallway carefully avoiding the patches of sunlight from the windows.  Quite suddenly the guards from the dungeon came busting out of the stairs all at once.  The king had his back to a large iron door and quickly groped for the handle lest they see him.  The door gave way behind him and he stumbled backwards into the room swiftly regaining his balance and shut the door leaning his back to it with his eyes closed breathing heavily.  After a moments pause, he swallowed and opened his eyes.
His breath left him instantly as he stared horrified at what was before him.  Forcing himself not to vomit he walked forward noticing now the over powering stench in the room that he had not noticed before.  In front of him lay scattered decaying bodies and skeletons of all kinds of creatures, some he had never seen.  Some had been impaled, others decapitated and more still poisoned, taken by disease, tortured and twisted, and more.  Blood covered every inch of the floor some dry and some still fresh.  On the far side of the room were the crumbling remains of a bloodstained stone table.
King Ciptian frantically looked for a way out.  The guards’ voices were drawing nearer and there were no windows or passages leading out of the room.  He ran his hands along the blood-spattered walls in hope of finding a secret door.  When he had finished circling around he scanned the ceiling with little hope.  He looked back down with misery but then did a double take.  In the far dark corner there were the faint outlines of a small trap door.  Ciptian’s heart jumped up to his throat and he stumbled his way through the broken bodies.
Upon arriving he realized that he needed a way to get up to it, he could never jump that far.  With a simple hover charm he positioned the stone table underneath the door and stood on it.  The guards’ voices appeared unexpectedly right outside the door and in desperation the king blasted away the trap door and jumped up, his fingers almost missing the ladder starting at the mouth of the hole.  His foot had just disappeared as the guards burst through the door.
                                                     
Wimble woke in a cold sweat for the first time in three days.  On his forehead lay a damp warm cloth and beside him on a table, a fresh bowl of soup.  He eagerly sat up with a rumbling stomach.  The last time he had eaten was a quick dinner five days ago.  As soon as he sat up, he regretted it.  A light flashed before his eyes and pain wracked his bandaged shoulder.  He slowly eased himself back down under the covers with a groan. 
Wimble closed his eyes biting his lip and then looked at his surroundings.  He was apparently in some sort of hospital wing.  The air smelled of drugs, the floor and walls were spotlessly clean and there were beds to either side of him one empty and one occupied with a woman.
Wimble tried reaching over to the bowl while lying down but quickly brought his had back in with a whimper deciding he would wait until a nurse came in.  Looking to the window Wimble noted that it was dusk and he could hear the night owls starting to emerge from their holes to start their hunts.
The door opened and an old female elf in white, obviously a nurse of some kind, walked in and over to the basin.  She must have not seen me.
“Ehm.”  He cleared his throat.  “Ehm.  Excuse me…?  Miss…uh…”  Still she did not turn around.  Wimble looked at her exasperatedly.  Well, he thought, I guess I’ll just have to wait for her to turn around and look at me.
Someone else walked in.  A girl.  She wasn’t wearing white so Wimble assumed she didn’t work as a nurse.  Her back was to him so he couldn’t see her face as she quietly shut the door.  When she turned around Wimble smiled.
“Arya?,” he croaked.  Her bright blue eyes snapped up to his and she smiled warmly.
“Hello Wimble.”  She walked over and sat on the edge of the bed.  “I’m glad you’re awake.  I was so worried.  You’ve been out of it for three days now.  How are you feel-” 
A crash sounded near the basin making Wimble jump about a foot moaning at the sudden jerk.  Arya’s head whipped around and she jumped to her feet.
“Arya dear,” the old woman said clutching her heart while leaning back against the basin table.  “I didn’t know you had come in.  You gave me quite a start.  Oh”, she said looking over at Wimble.  “The poor dear’s awake.”  A small bowl lay shattered at her feet.  She stooped over to clean it up.
“No, Augnella.  Here, let me get that for you.”  Arya walked over to the woman.  Holding her arm, Arya walked her over to a chair.  “Sit down and I’ll clean it up for you.”  She busied herself with the mess and Wimble looked longingly at the steaming bowl of soup.  Licking his lips he looked to the old woman who was fanning herself with her eyes closed.  Then he looked to the girl cleaning the floor.  With a small “Hrumph”, he leaned farther back into the pillows.  A few minutes later, the floor was clean, Arya was once again at Wimble’s bedside, and the old woman, Augnella, was putting a warm cloth to the forehead of the woman next to them.
“Um, Arya, or should I say, uh, Miss, Mrs....?”
“Its just Arya.”
“Oh, well, Arya, well, I was wondering if, uh…”, he glanced over at the bowl.
“Oh!  Certainly. It completely skipped my mind.”  She reached over and carefully picked up the soup.
“I tried to ask Augnella earlier but I guess she didn’t hear me.”
“Yes, she’s a little hard on hearing.  So”, she said spooning soup into Wimble’s mouth.  “How does it taste?”
“Ahhhh.  Heavenly.”  Arya laughed.
“Good.  So how are you feeling?”
“I’ve had better days.”  There was a pause and then Wimble’s head whipped around to her eyes.  “Kyron!  Where is he?  Have you seen…”, he stopped seeing the miserable look on her face.  “What”, he said tentatively.  “What happened?”
“Its all my fault”, she said looking at him.  Wimble cocked his head.  “I-I…Before I got you out of the woods we, Kyron and I, were being chased by the Raok.  They were really, actually trying to catch him and then he stumbled onto me and I had to run with him.  I really didn’t know who he was, but I had met him earlier so I just followed him and he led us out of the woods into a great army of elves, which were from Bashinma.  When they asked who he was he wouldn’t tell them so I had told them what happened in the woods and they locked him up because he wasn’t an elf.”  She sighed, “I feel miserable”, and she looked very miserable indeed.
Wimble just sat there staring at her with his mouth slightly open looking dazed as if he had just run into a brick wall.  For several minutes he looked this way and then finally he slowly looked at Arya with an attempted smile that turned out to be very weak.  “I probably would have done the same thing if I were you,” he lied.  “Well, you’ve probably got better things to do than just sit here with me.  I guess I’ll see you later.”  He said this with a finality and Arya knew it was time to go.
“Goodbye for now.”  She stood up and walked to the door. Just like Kyron. Turning back she looked at Wimble’s expressionless face as he lay back with his eyes closed.  With a sigh, Arya shut the door. 
-End of Chapter 8-