Wangaia - Gayle P. Nastasi (best ereader for graphic novels .txt) 📗

of burying feces.

"Well, that says much about the quality of our meal." Casey wrinkled her nose in disgust at the sight of the so-called food.

Gareth said nothing, did not even look at the tray. He was watching Casey, sadness in his eyes.

"What?" she asked, when she noticed his gaze.
"
You did not betray me, did you?"

She shook her head. "I tried to tell you that."

"And now you will die with me, although none of my troubles have whatsoever to do with you."

She frowned, tried to push down the fear that rose within her. "Well, let's not think about that. Let's try to figure out a way out of this mess."

"Casey Reese? Who are you, truthfully? I know now what you are not. You are not a traitor, and I also do not believe, in my heart, that you are truly a madwoman. But what are you? Are you this sorceress, Vestal, that you spoke of in my tent?"

Casey, despite the dire situation, couldn't help a smile at the misuse of the name. "Vatas, not Vestal. Hardly Vestal. But no, I'm not her. She was just another character in my original story."

"Story." He picked up a hunk of the old bread and began to munch on it. "Again, you speak of stories. I remember what you said earlier, but I do not understand."

"Neither do I, Gareth, neither do I." She winced at the thought of eating the stale food, but decided that his course of action might be wisest under the circumstances. No way would she touch that cheese, though. The bread was old and dry, but with a sip of the stale, flat beer she was able to wash it down. She fervently hoped it would stay there.

Once he had eaten, he, too stood. The disuse of his legs made them shaky, and he staggered. Casey reached out and grabbed him around the waist to steady him. His arms slipped around her, and he chuckled softly.

"What's so funny?" She asked, looking up into his dark features, and not letting go.

"Funny? No, lass, nothing is funny. I laugh only at the irony of our position. At any other time, I might actually be enjoying this."

She sighed. "Yeah, being in chains and possibly minutes from death kinda puts a damper on things, doesn't it."

"Damper...?"

"Never mind." She released him, with no real excuse to hold on now that he had his feet firmly under him. "Who knows how long those guards will give us to eat. Damn. If there were only something--anything--we could do now, fast, while we have the use of our hands."

As cats often will, Zimmer took that moment, with spoiling food fresh in his mistress's stomach, to relieve himself. He chose a spot not far from the tray of food itself, where there was a soft depression in the crumbled stone of the floor. Even he must have assumed his leavings were more pungent than they should be, for when he was done he began to dig energetically in an attempt to cover them. Crushed and rotting stone and dirt flew everywhere, as he formed a shallow hole in the floor.

Casey muttered, "Sorry 'bout that," in apology for her pet's indiscression, and tried not to notice the slightly annoyed look on Gareth's face. Zimmer continued to dig. Scratch, scratch, scratch, clink.

Clink? Both Gareth and Casey turned toward the cat.

Again, scratch, scratch, clink.

"There is something in that hole other than what Zimmer deposited there," Gareth said, and dropped to his knees. He stretched forward, peered into the hole, and wrinkled his nose against the smell. "Yes!" He reached in, braving the chance of finding more than whatever it was that clinked, and came out with a small object.

It was a nail. An old, rusted, crudely fashioned nail which had most likely been a part of the shackles of some prisoner of decades gone by. He stared for a moment at the object in his hand, and then shot his bright blue gaze to Casey's face.

"I do believe I shall get myself a cat." He went immediately to work first on his own anklets. The lock that held them chained closed and together had a keyhole just large enough to allow the entry of the nail. He bent over it, working furiously at the inner mechanism, twisting, prying, prodding, until SNAP. The lock fell open and he was free!

Footsteps sounded down the corridor. The jangling of keys, and rough laughter and jesting approached. Gareth dove for Casey's feet.

He stabbed the nail into the lock.

"Just kill it!" a guard's voice said, tinted with laughter. "Just kill the damn cat! What a wonder our Master Rath is! Why didn't we think of that?"

"'Cuz we're louts, you lout!" The sounds of one soldier thumping another on the back, and then laughter were almost outside the door.

Two of them, it sounded like only two this time.

Gareth frantically worked at Casey's ankle bracelets. The lock wouldn't come undone.

"Damn, hurry!" she whispered.

"It won't work!" He was near panic.

The guard's keys rattled and clanked.

Gareth spun toward the door.

A key clicked against the lock.

He shot Casey a desperate look. "Trust me!" he mouthed in silence.

She nodded, and he dashed, hunkered low, to the doorway. The key rasped, the bolt slid back. The door opened.

Guard number one entered.

Gareth moved like a striking panther!

Before the man knew what hit him, he was on the ground. Gareth had the guard's blade out of it's sheath, and in one swift motion it was sunk to the hilt in the fat of its owner's chest.

"Wha-- Arrrrrr!" Pike raised, the second guard rushed him.

Crouching low, Gareth ducked under the weapon.

Before Casey could react to her terror, both guards had been dispatched.

Gareth snatched the key ring from the dead man's girdle and rushed back to Casey. He fumbled at her shackles, and they snapped open.

"Come! We must away from here swiftly, before the third guard should choose to return and sound the alarm!"

He'd grabbed her hand and tried to drag her toward the door. Casey was frozen in place, staring white-faced at her first real look at death. She'd written it into her action fantasy stories half-a-hundred times, but that did not prepare her for the reality.

"Oh, jeez--" she whimpered, and her knees went weak.

"Lass, there is no time for squeamishness now!" Gareth scolded. He swooped down to snatch up Zimmer as they rushed by the cat. Casey was being literally dragged forward against the inability of her own legs to move.

Once past the doorway, it was like a barrier had broken. Casey began to run, putting behind her the image of the two dead men lying on the dungeon floor. They'd run down one corridor, turned, and headed up another when she asked, "Where are we going?"

"Why, out! There is a back entrance to the lower levels, just down--"

Casey put on the brakes. The force of her rather large companion hitting the end of her reach nearly yanked her arms from their already stretched and pain-filled socket and tears sprang to her eyes. "No!"

"No!?" He turned and stared at her. "No!? What do you mean, 'No'?"

"The crystals! We're inside--we have a chance to find the crystals and free your holdings from Rath's influences!" She turned, started back toward the heart of the castle. "Come on!"

Gareth pulled her up short. "Lass, my holdings are lost, my family stolen from me forever. Rath has already won this battle."

"No, how can you give up?"

"I have no choice! You see that he knows, he sees, what we do--he was at the gate to meet us when we tried to steal into the palace. How can I win against sorcery?"

"I don't know. But we have to try! I know where the crystals are--they're in a small, hidden alcove in his bedroom."

"You mean my bedroom. I know the alcove, I kept important records there."

A shout rang from the direction of the cell. The third guard must have discovered his companions' bodies.

"We have to hurry. Once he sounds the alarm, will Rath come to the dungeon to investigate?"

Gareth scowled, glared down the corridor toward the sound of the shouting guard. "Yes, I would imagine so."

"Then come on, up the side hall and the stairway at the back of the castle! We can get to the alcove before Rath traces us, and be out of here with the crystals in no time." She started down a small corridor to their left, dragging him behind her.

"How do you know about the back stairway?"

"I told you. I wrote it!"

The stairs were narrow and dark, lit only by a torch in the corridor at the bottom and another whose light flickered from somewhere above. Casey raced up them with far too little caution. Halfway there, she stumbled in the darkness, and her knees cracked audibly against the stone of the steps.

"Damn!" She rose, rubbing them and fighting back the tears that stung her eyes. "Now I have knees to match my shoulders." Her soreness only slowed her slightly, and in a moment she and Gareth were peering cautiously into a deserted hallway. Another stairway could be seen at the end of the corridor, and it was to that they headed at a quick but silent pace.

On the second story, Gareth turned left, toward a large, solid oaken door. He grabbed the latch and tried to turn it, but it was locked tight.

Grinning, he reached beneath the girdle that bound his tunic tight around him, and pulled out a set of keys. "There is an advantage to breaking into your own home." The first key he selected fit effortlessly into the lock, and within a moment they were in the room.

Casey limped directly to the heavy tapestries that covered the back wall of the large, elaborate chamber and pulled them aside. Behind was a large panel, quite like the others that made up the walls of the room, but which was receded just a fraction of an inch further. She pressed the moulding on the side of the panel, and it slid to one side, revealing a cleverly hidden latch. She pulled at the latch, and the panel slid open. As it moved aside it revealed a set of shelves. Casey's hand automatically went for the one where the crystals should be. She stopped short, staring. Her breath caught for a moment and then whooshed out in a startled gasp.

There on the shelf was a ink-jet printed stack of computer paper. The title on the front