* * * *
“Elder! Elder! Can you hear me?” a voice shouted in the gloom.
He opened his eyes and could just make out the face of his father gazing down at him. He struggled to draw a breath. “What happened?” For a few moments his clouded mind could register nothing of what was going on. “Where am I?” He rubbed the smoke and dust from his eyes, trying his best to focus.
His father bent close to examine his injuries. “You have a gash on your forehead. Stay where you are. I have to find Charlotte.” He disappeared into the darkness, calling her name.
In that instant, Elder realised the gravity of the situation. “Charlotte!” What had happened to her? He hauled himself to his feet, leaning against the wall to steady his spinning head. The smoke started to clear. The true scale of the damage turned his stomach. The explosion had destroyed everything in the room. It was a miracle anyone survived. With all his effort, he began sifting through the debris. “Charlotte! Charlotte!” He came upon a crumpled figure beneath the broken furniture. His heart sank. Uncovering the body in a frenzy of rage and fear, he found Goffer lying half buried beneath shattered pieces of wooden chairs. He grabbed hold of him by the throat, shaking his limp form. “If anything has happened to Charlotte, you will be sorry, old man.”
“Now is not the time to be fighting amongst ourselves,” Goffer stuttered, trying to wrench free.
Before Elder had time to release his grip, two dwarf warriors came crashing down on him, pinning him to the floor. One held a knife against his throat.
“Stop!” Goffer cried out. “Release him and find the girl—now!” He stumbled over to help Elder back to his feet, his face filled with concern. “They are here to protect me and are just following orders.”
Elder pulled away in disgust and spotted his father appear through the dust and smoke.
“I cannot find her!” His face was one of terror.
The dark room lit up with the torches of warriors streaming into the blackened chamber. Goffer summoned one of the heavily armed dwarves to his side and spoke into his ear. The dwarf saluted and ran off, giving orders to the other warriors. They formed pairs and began marching through the many doors on either side of the room.
“Where do all these doors lead to?” Elder demanded to know.
Goffer shrugged. “They lead all over. I have sent out search parties. Any intruders will not get far.”
“What if you cannot find her in time?” He snarled with contempt, cringing at the consequences of his own words. “I will not stand here and wait for news.” He drew his sword. “It will take more than a Stronghold and an army of warriors to protect you if any harm comes to Charlotte, mark my words!”
He walked away without waiting for a reply. How could this have happened? Why would anyone want to harm Charlotte? He had to find her. He would willingly lay down his own life for her; he knew that now for certain.
He came to a door that stood slightly ajar. He rammed it with his shoulder, but found nothing of interest. About to move on to the next one, he noticed something lying on the floor halfway down the corridor. He sprinted towards the object. One of the iron candlestick holders lay strewn on the ground. His gaze moved to a tiny piece of white material hanging from the decorative ironwork. Traces of blood stained one corner. It could have come from anybody’s garment, but he was certain he should continue his search in that direction.
He broke into a run.
Chapter Twelve
Captive
Charlotte regained consciousness, choking and spluttering. Her head pounded. She pressed her temples with the palms of her hands, groaning. Her limbs, stiff and numb, ached from the ice-cold stone where she lay. She tried to sit upright, but the lurch in her stomach forced her to lie back down. “Elderfield,” she called out, her voice pitiful. No reply came. The only sound in the blackness was a steady drip of water, echoing from somewhere in the distance. How did she come to be in this terrible place?
She rolled onto her side, trying to distinguish her surroundings in a room shrouded in darkness. Her eyes focused on shapes, but little else. One of them appeared to be the outline of a figure crouching in one corner. She stared, desperate to make sense of what was happening.
“Elderfield? Is that you?” Her voice was barely a whisper. “Elderfield, please. I’m really scared.” Maybe there wasn’t anyone there. Maybe it was all in her imagination and she really was alone in the dark, her worst nightmare come true. She had to find a way out of this place.
With the aid of the wall, Charlotte managed to pull herself to her feet. She stood for a moment waiting for her head to clear. Once confident she could walk, she started to feel her way around the edge of the room, flinching at the patches of slime on the damp walls. She heard a noise. She froze, trying to listen over her heavy breathing.
“Hello! Is there anybody there?” Her voice quivered. Another sound came, closer this time. Her heart raced and the dizzy, sickening feeling returned once again. She leaned against the slippery wall.
“If that’s you, Elderfield ... This really isn’t funny.” She knew deep down he wouldn’t play a cruel trick on her like this. If only she could remember what happened to her.
To her horror, the dark figure in the corner began to move. It turned to face her. Two evil red eyes glared from beneath a blackened hood. She gasped for breath. Her stomach knotted.
“Sit down!” a voice hissed.
It was the most terrifying sound she had ever heard. Paralysed with fear, the blood-curdling statement summoned haunting images of monsters born from her worst nightmares. She slid down the wall and sat in silence, hardly daring to breathe. “Who is it? What do you want?” Her sorrowful question hung in the air unanswered.
* * * *
Elder dashed through one corridor after another, checking each door he came to. The Stronghold was full of twists and turns, all heading in a downward direction. This far into the heart of the mountain, the craftsmanship of the tunnels changed dramatically. The smooth walls gave way to rough and jagged stonework with wooden doorframes replacing the stone archways. In the panic of his plight, he stumbled several times, falling against coarse rock that caused painful injuries. “I must find her,” he mumbled over and over, tears blending with the sweat that now streaked his face. He began to doubt himself, wondering if he should turn around and search elsewhere. He stopped and cried out her name. “Charlotte!” His words bounced off the walls, taunting him with the silence that followed.
He fell to his knees, exhausted and desperate. What if I never find her? She could already be dead! His stomach churned and he vomited. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “No!” he screamed through gritted teeth, clenching his fists and thumping the ground. I must not think that. I have to find her. He forced himself to his feet, his instincts driving him forward.
The further down he ventured, the colder it became. His breath came out in small puffs of misty steam. He reached the bottom of yet another staircase, and rounded the corner. He froze. The bodies of two elven guards lay on the ground, their fatal injuries the trade marks of an assassin. He rushed to their aid to check for signs of life, but it was too late. He lurched backwards at the feel of their cold, lifeless corpses. A chill ran down his spine. Covering his mouth with his hand, he fought the urge to be sick again. What kind of fiend could do such a barbaric act of cruelty?
He wanted to run and call Charlotte’s name, but he knew it would be wiser to continue with caution. He was on the right trail, he knew that now. Surprise would be his greatest weapon. A mixture of fear and anger overwhelmed him. Drawing a breath, his determination drove him deeper into the darkening corridors. Images of what could happen to Charlotte strengthened his resolve. With bared-teeth, he quickened his pace, gripping the hilt of his sword until his knuckles turned white.
* * * *
Charlotte sat in the dark, her knees clenched tight to her chest. Her breaths came in short gasps. She shook from head to toe. She had no idea how long she
would remain trapped in this cold cell. She couldn’t even remember how she had come to be in this situation. She shrank back to the wall, realising the dark figure moved in silence towards her. Her heart leaped. Please don’t hurt me. She remembered the knife Middleton gave her. Her fingertips searched for the hidden weapon, but she knew she didn’t have the courage or the strength to us it.
The piercing, red eyes of the assassin stopped a few feet away from her face. He removed his hood to reveal his skull-like features, and let out a low growl. “What is a little girl like you doing with such powerful magic? You look pathetic and weak.”
She didn’t understand what he meant. She wanted to scream out for help, but feared he would kill her on the spot. “I’m only ten.”
This comment appeared to amuse him and he backed off. “Believe it or not, I am here to help you,” he declared with a sly grin.
Charlotte said nothing. She wasn’t going to believe anything he said. If he wanted to help her, why was he holding her captive?
“If I am not mistaken, I have something that belongs to you.” His mocking tone gave her no reason to change her mind. “You really should be more careful, leaving things lying around. It was lucky for you that I came along when I did.” His bony fingers slid inside his cloak. He pulled something out and held it in front of her face. The object lit the cell with a familiar glow.
“My dome! You’ve got my dome!” she cried out. “Where did you get it?” She reached out to take it, but he snatched it away.
“I think I had better look after this for now. If I give it to you, you will only lose it again.” He gave a cold sneer.
What kind of cruel game was he playing with her? “It belongs to me. Why don’t you just give it back to me?”
“I will return it to you, but first I have some important business to attend to.”
Charlotte went cold. He’s lying. He’s going to kill me! She fumbled for the knife.
The cell door swung open and crashed against the wall. The room filled with bright light. Charlotte squinted against the sudden illumination, throwing her hands over her eyes. Peering through the gap in her fingers, she saw Elderfield standing in the doorway. Her heart exploded with joy. She had never been so relieved to see his familiar face. The sudden realisation of how much he meant to her came in a crushing blow. “Elderfield!”
Elder placed the torch in a holder and scrambled down the three stone steps to face the druid.
“Stop right there! You would not want something unfortunate to happen to your little friend now, would you?” The druid’s voice echoed out harsh and cold.
Elder glanced at her for a brief moment, his expression radiating joy to see her.
“You said you were here to help me!” Charlotte screamed, finding some inner courage. “You said you would give me back my dome.”
“And so I will,” the druid replied, refusing to take his eyes off the defiant elf. “It would seem such a great pity to kill your elven friend.” He pointed a bony finger at Elder. “Especially after taking such trouble to save him from those dark wolves.” He smirked.
Elderfield held his stare, confusion in his eyes. “That was you?”
“Yes. You owe your life to me. Do as I ask and I will not have to take it away.” He paused to study the elf. “Bring me Goffer, if he is still alive. I wish to speak with him at once.”
“Why did you save me?” Elder said, ignoring his request.
A blood-curdling growl filled the chamber. “Did you not hear me, boy? I told you to bring Goffer to me at once.”
He stood his ground. “I will go nowhere without Charlotte!” He took a deep breath. “She has been entrusted into my care, and I refuse to leave her.”
Charlotte watched in horror as the druid rose to his full height of at least eight feet tall.
“So be it,” he roared. “You have made your decision.”
Charlotte panicked. I can’t let him hurt Elderfield! She had to do something, anything, even if it meant … lying. Goffer’s warnings flashed to the front of her mind, but in the situation, his words seemed meaningless. “Stop! I have got powerful magic. If you don’t let us go, I will destroy you.” She held out her hands as she had seen a magician do in a mock display.
The creature paused for a brief second as though considering her sincerity, then a cruel laugh emitted from the beast. It turned and started to descend on her helpless friend.
“Elderfield! Run!” Without thinking, she drew the dagger concealed inside her cloak. She ran straight at him and drove the knife into his back.
He wheeled around, his face contorted with anger.
Elder seized the moment. He leapt forward in a silent attack, drawing his sword in one swift motion. Before he reached his target, the druid drew a spiked mace from out of nowhere and stuck him with such force he went crashing to the floor. Elder hit his head hard against the stone steps.
“Elderfield!” Charlotte screamed.
The assassin pulled the knife from his back and turned to face her. “Let me give you something to remember me by.” He grabbed her hand with a vice-like grip and plunged the dagger into her arm.
She staggered backwards, gasping in agony until she hit the back wall. Warm blood oozed from the wound, running down her hand and dripping from her fingertips. This can’t be happening. He’s going to kill us both. She panted for breath, her mind clouded with a sensation unlike any she had ever known. Pins and needles flowed through her body, numbing all her senses. Oblivious to her own searing pain, a rage boiled deep inside her, consuming all her thoughts, uncontrollable and deadly. “Why are you doing this?” she heard herself yell. A strange light illuminated all around her, wrapping her in a shroud of warmth. She was aware of it and yet somehow, she wasn’t.
Looking up, she saw Elderfield struggling to his feet, his eyes glazed and a trickle of blood running freely from a cut above his forehead. He clawed at the wall to pull himself upright, but stumbled and fell to the floor. The dark figure closed in on him with the mace held high above his head. She watched the hazy vision unfold in slow motion, like a film at half speed. “Elderfield!”
He turned his head towards her. She saw the little boy in his eyes, lost, helpless. A great sadness washed over her. She could do nothing to save him. He tried again to stand, but staggered. The druid was almost upon him. Elder reached out his hands to her as a child would to a parent. She watched in horror as the druid’s mace bared down upon him. Inch by inch, the evil creature moved closer. She couldn’t let this happen.
Elder saw him at the last second, his eyes widened with shock and disbelief. He cowered, bracing himself, but it was too late.
“No!” Charlotte screamed, throwing out her arms.
A sudden flash of blinding, white light filled the entire room. It erupted in a great surge from her own hands, striking the druid in a massive explosion of sparks. The force of the blast threw Elder off his feet. He tumbled backwards. The room became silent once more.
Charlotte stood staring at Elderfield’s motionless form. On the floor next to him, the remains of the druid’s crumpled body smoldered in tiny wisps of putrid smoke, reduced to nothing but a pile of greyish ash.
Elder groaned. He lifted his head; his eyes met hers. “Charlotte?” he murmured. He heaved himself upright and leaned against the wall.
“What was that?” she managed to say before falling to the ground. She heard Elder scurry to her side, and felt him cradling her body.
“Charlotte! Charlotte!”
She could not respond. A deep, dark chasm opened before her, and she could not stop herself from falling. His voice sounded distant, yet she could still feel his warmth against her body. It was enough to know he was safe before her mind slipped into an abyss of nothingness.
Chapter Thirteen
Home
Charlotte awoke with a gasp. She stared at the familiar angled ceiling painted in deep crimson. Her mind was foggy and clouded. She shivered at the bitter chill that seeped through the bla
nkets. The window shutters were closed tight against the warmth of the sun and the fire remained unlit in the massive hearth. She lay still for a moment before spotting Elderfield in the gloom. His cloak hung around his shoulders as he examined the contents of a food tray. A wooden plate held a selection of cold meat and some bread rolls. He stood, picking at the various items.
“Save some for me, greedy. I’m starving,” she said in a weak voice.
He dropped a roll on the floor and the food almost fell from his mouth. “Charlotte! You are awake!” He rushed over and fell to his knees beside the bed. Tears filled his eyes.
“What are you getting all soppy about?” She tried to sit upright. “Ow, my arm!” She glanced down to see where the pain came from. “It kills! What happened to my arm?”
“Do not try to get up.” His voice sounded laced with panic.
“Elderfield? What’s going on?”
“Do you not remember?” He brushed her ruffled hair away from her face with his fingertips.
“No!”
“You have been unconscious for days with a raging fever. I thought you might never wake.” He reached over to the table, passing her a clay mug half filled with juice. “Here, try to drink something.”
Drew’s head appeared around the door. He rushed to her bedside, feeling her head with his palm. His scared face creased with concern.
“What?” She stared at him.
Elder explained. “Drew has been looking after you. He has been giving you medicine and tending to your injuries.”
“Are you a doctor then?”
Drew stared at her with a blank expression. “Yes, I am one of those.”
He didn’t sound very convincing, but she felt too ill to argue.
“If you are in a lot of pain, I have made something that will help.”
She watched him pass Elder a small, ceramic jar filled with a disgusting-looking green paste.
“I would advise you try to eat something first. Though be warned, it tastes rather horrid and it will make you feel sleepy.”
“I’m cold.” She pulled at the covers with her good arm.
Drew walked around the bed and stacked a pile of logs in the stone hearth. “After I light the fire, I will bring you both a warm drink.” He worked with his back to them, and within moments, billows of grey smoke soon wafted up the chimney. He turned back to face them. A warm orange glow took away the harshness from the dwarf’s rugged features. “I shall be back shortly.” He gave a polite bow before leaving the room.