Chapter 9
Matthias had lost track of the days and nights long ago. Since he was moved to a small cell that had no window, there was no way to tell the passage of time. Without any candles or other source of light, he remained in the hellish depths of darkness full time.
He tried to guess by the meals he
was served, but he quickly discovered those were haphazard at best. There were
hours when he’d be so weak with hunger that he was barely aware when the bowl
of gruel was placed through the small door at the bottom of his cell door until
he smelled it. Then it would seem he’d barely finished eating when another bowl
was brought to him. Whether he was hungry or not, he made himself eat the
horrid concoction, for once glad he couldn’t see what he was eating.
He prayed almost constantly and
slept the rest of the time. Initially, he’d attempted to have some kind of
exercise regime to keep his muscles from wasting away. After a while, he gave
up trying. He no longer had the energy.
He knew he would eventually die in
this place. The solitude he could handle. The cold he could not. With the
winter months due to arrive, he could only hope he’d freeze to death in his
sleep—peaceful and alone.
He never expected to hear the
jingling of keys at the lock, or for the sound of the heavy door being pulled
open. A lantern was shoved through the opening, blinding him. Matthias threw an
arm up to shield his eyes when a gruff voice declared, “Yes. That is he. Get
him.”
He was grabbed under both arms and
half-dragged, half-carried out of his cell. The guards continued to haul him
over the rough rock floor where his feet were battered with cuts and bruises.
By the time they arrived in the rear halls of the castle, every step he took
left a bloody imprint.
“Here ye go,” one guard remarked,
throwing him onto the floor. “Good luck with getting the stench off of him.”
The other guard chuckled as they both exited the place.
Matthias looked up in the graying
light to find several servant women gathering around him. They with their white
aprons and foul expressions. More hands reached for him, tearing the remains of
his robe from his thin body. Fully naked, he was shoved into a nearby steaming laundry
tub of almost scalding water.
He called out from the pain as they
began to soap and scrub him with horsehair brushes. Their ministrations weren’t
gentle. His hair was almost yanked from his head and face as they tried to remove the
lice and other insects that nested in the tangled mess. Icy cold water was thrown on him to rinse him
off, nearly throwing his body into shock, when someone declared they’d done all they
could. Led from the tub, he was given a worn but clean shift to cover his
nakedness. Nearby, another guard waited to place shackles on his wrists.
“Come with me, and do not try to
escape, or else I will run you through.”
The tempting thought of a quick
death by the man’s blade briefly entered his mind. But curiosity regarding why
he’d been released from his prison prevented him from attempting to see if the
man would be true to his word.
At least this guard was more
generous in dealing with the priest’s shaky gait. Several times Matthias was
forced to stop and wheeze for breath, unused to the activity. Once they were
away from the laundry and the areas where most of the servants worked, they
entered the castle proper. He was led down long corridors lined with rich
tapestries and past rooms where he was able to glimpse luxuries within that he
could never imagine.
He was on the verge of total
collapse when they entered the throne room. Matthias was not surprised to see
Gola sitting on the elaborately carved and gilded seat atop the stone dais.
Although he’d come to believe she was the person responsible for him being
momentarily released from his hellhole, he was more anxious to know why she’d
summoned him. Or worse, if she was going to send him back to the dungeon once
this meeting was over.
“Good day, Father,” the witch
greeted him as he fell to his knees before her. He winced in pain as the stone
cut into his flesh, gritting his teeth as he tried not to make a sound. The
woman loved to inflict misery on others, and hearing it almost made her
euphoric. Instead, he managed to nod, letting her know he’d heard her, as he
kept his head bowed.
“You must be wondering why I
brought you here.”
He didn’t dare look up at her until
she allowed him to. The fact that she was deliberately baiting him left him
more confused than angry at her treatment of him. What he wasn’t expecting was
for her to rise from the throne and slowly descend the steps to his level.
“The answer is simple. I need you
to deliver a message for me.”
The toes of her gilt slippers
appeared in his range of vision. One foot rose and kicked his shoulder with
enough force to knock him backwards. Matthias found himself staring up at her,
but the witch didn’t seem to object to his scrutiny.
“Are you now without the ability to
speak, Priest? Do you still have your tongue in your head? Or have you gone mad
during your incarceration?”
“I c-can speak,” he answered, his
voice gravelly and dry.
“Your Greatness,” Gola prodded
darkly, her brows knitting. “You will refer to me as Your Greatness.”
“I can speak, Your Greatness.”
A self-serving smile carved into her
thin lips. “That is better. Now here is your mission. You will leave this place
and go in search of the Centurion Kayge d’Bayar. When you find him, you must
give him this message. Are you listening carefully, Priest?” Her eyes narrowed
at him.
“I am listening, Your Greatness.”
“Good. Tell him the only way he can
get his beloved Emers Ammin of Deccatar back is by killing the heart of the
dragon. Do you have that?”
“Y-yes, Your Greatness.”
“Then repeat it back to me. Word
for word.”
Matthias squeezed his eyes shut and
prayed he could. “The only way Centurion Kayge d’Bayar can get back his beloved
Emers Ammin of Deccatar is by killing the heart of the dragon.”
Gola cackled. “Your memory is not
yet as ragged as your body. Very good, Priest.”
“Your Greatness?”
She paused as she was about to
ascend the steps back to her chair. “What?”
“Why must I deliver your
message? Surely you have other men at your disposal who are more capable than
me.”
“The centurion will not allow any
of my men to approach him, and you well know that. But he will allow you
to get close to him so that you can deliver my message. He trusts you, although
he may be suspicious as to why you sought him out.”
Matthias couldn’t fault the witch
for that wisdom. “And after I deliver your message…”
“Yes?”
“What is your will with me?”
Gola let out another one of her
high-pitched screeches of delight. “I am finished with you, you worthless piece
of dung! Do what you will on your own! But know this and know it well. If you
leave here and do not give the centurion my message, I will know. And if you
think your past incarceration in my dungeon was hellish, you will not withstand
the punishment you will be dealt for your disobedience. Are we clear, Priest?”
He bowed his head to show his
obeisance. “Very clear, Your Greatness.”
He was aware of her making some
gesture and she returned to her throne. Presently, another guard appeared by
his side.
“Take him. See that he is fed and
provided with a horse and provisions before he is sent from here.”
A hand grabbed him under one arm to
haul him to his feet. At the last second, Matthias addressed the witch for what
he prayed would be the last time.
“Your Greatness, where will I find
Kayge d’Bayar? In which direction shall I go?”
Gola sneered. “You know where to
go. But if you get lost…just follow the dragon.” She turned to speak to a man
standing beside the throne, a gesture which told Matthias that he’d been
dismissed.
He was subsequently led to the
kitchen where he was fed not a bowl of gruel but a slab of fowl, along with a
sizeable chunk of freshly baked bread. Unfortunately, he couldn’t finish it all
and expected the rest to be tossed to the dogs. He was amazed when the remains
were wrapped in a cloth and added to a bag that was already bulging. As a
servant woman shoved the bag in his hands, she leaned over and softly
whispered, “God speed.” He quickly made the sign of the cross on her forehead
to thank her for her prayer.
From there he was taken to the
stables where a horse was saddled and waiting. A pair of trousers was draped
over the saddle. A pair of boots sat on the ground. Matthias quickly pulled on
the pants and footwear before his guard helped him onto the horse. Unlike the
woman, the man said nothing as he grabbed the reins and led both beast and
priest out into the main courtyard where the drawbridge was already lowered.
Handing the reins to Matthias, the
man stood back. Matthias noticed how many pairs of eyes were watching him
depart, making him wonder if they all were under Gola’s spell. If they all were
waiting to see what he’d do next like one giant eye.
He urged the horse out of the
courtyard and over the drawbridge before stopping on the road. Ahead lay open
land and forest. And freedom.
But first I must find Kayge and
give him the message. Tell him that the only way he can get his beloved Emers
back is by killing the heart of the dragon.
The dragon.
What dragon?
He glanced up into the clear,
cloudless sky. Somewhere out there was a dragon. It was imperative he find
Kayge as soon as possible for both their sakes, and for Emers’ sake. There were
too many questions he needed to ask, too many answers he needed to make his
mission make sense.
“Thank you, oh Lord, for Your mercy
and kindness. I will not fail You. If it be thy will, please guide me to where
I may find Kayge d’Bayar. I fully trust in You to help me.”
Dropping his gaze back to the road
ahead, he dug his heels into the horse’s sides and set off down the road toward
what he hoped would be their salvation.
TO BE CONTINUED
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