Chapter 8
The exit of the tunnels was located on a steep incline. Yokigs legs felt like they would give out and fail him, sending him rolling back down to the bottom, nulling out any sign of the progress forward that he had made. Every inch toward the exit had to be earned.
Yokig could see the exit through his sweat blurred eyes. It was a stone door in the rock ahead , an opening the height of a small child and the length of Yokigs extended arms from fingertip to fingertip It held a glowing blue inscription similar to the carving at the entrance. When Yokig glanced at it he felt the sense of encouragement he needed to finish the long upward trek. Beyond that door was Negathor, the city he had wanted to see since he was a small child. He could imagine, in his mind's eye, the art the city held; The beauty of its structures, and the magnificence of its people. But the hope he felt in that moment was crushed by the disparaging reality of his present situation, he was a fugitive. A wanted man. And all though he wanted to see it all, he knew that before he experienced the city in its full splendor he would have to be the Boy King. The thought of having to hide who he was, of having to constantly look over his shoulder, dampened his spirits.
The exit opened at the slightest touch of Redbeards palms on the smooth stone, revealing beyond its walls the cobblestone street of what looked like a town square. The Negathor entrance of the tunnels, Yokig learned, as the group squeezed through the small opening, was located in the base of a large carving of marble, showcasing a tall man in flowing robes. The giant man's arms stretched, welcoming all who passed near. The travelers carefully shut the entrance and began mixing in with the people in the crowded square.
It was Yokig who first noticed the metal helmet sticking out like a sore thumb through the crowd of people. He tapped Redbeard on the shoulder, pointing to a man in armor walking quickly towards them.
Redbeard looked around, his head towering far above the people on the street. "Damn," his fist curled into a tight ball. That was when Yokig noticed that a group of armed kingsmen had them completely surrounded.
The kingsmen wasted no time shackling the travelers. Yokig fought but it was no use, the guards outnumbered the group three to one. They pinned Dresmael to the ground, searching the contents of her bag, paying no heed to how roughly they handled her belongings. She cried and twisted her body around, desperately attempting to wriggle out of the strong grip of the kingsmen that held her down, trying her hardest to save her belongings.
It took five kingsmen to arrest the giant. Redbeard swung his arms around knocking the men off of his body and launching them into the air. The kingsmen got right back up after they fell, and rushed to tackle him again, and again, and again, until they managed to submit him against his will.
Blackpaw escaped, effortlessly slipping through the kingsmen's metal legs and into the growing crowd, wriggling out of sight, towards safety.
The guards threw burlap sacks over the heads of their captives and led them away, toward an unknown destination at bladepoint.
Yokig could see nothing but the dim lit side of the sack. He fought to move his heavy, overused feet, one step at a time. His tunic was soaked in urine from his bowls relieving themselves during the frightening encounter. He would have felt embarrassed but the entire group, save for Blackpaw, was in the same predicament; and, he had no idea what types of stares he was getting from the people they passed by.
They walked for what seemed like an hour. Eventually they were led up a flight of steps and Yokig heard the long sullen creek of what sounded like a large set of wooden doors being opened. They were forced inside the mysterious place they were led into. Yokig could hear their footsteps echo through the space, giving Yokig the impression that they were being marched inside a huge and cavernous room.
Suddenly the guards pulled on their chains, forcing them to come to a full stop. The kingsman kicked the back of the boys knees, forcing him to kneel down on a cold surface.
"Take them off, I want to see their faces." Yokig could make out an older voice commanding the men on the other side of his mask.
The blindfolds were snatched off unceremoniously, causing Yokig to flinch and wince as his eyes adjusted. They were in a grand cathedral at the base of a raised stone platform that gave way to the stage of the church. An old man hawked over him, dressed in a white robe with a horrid golden dot sown into its center.
"I was told there were four of them, you only brought me three." The old man addressed his kingsmen.
The guards looked around amongst themselves. The kingsmen closest to Yokig spoke up, his voice barely audible through his iron facemask. "Only three came out of the tunnels, father bishop"
The bishop calmly walked over to the kingsman and placed his bony hand on the man's shoulder plate. "Take off your helmet." He croaked.
The kingsman did what he was told, removing his head gear, revealing the fresh face of a young man, barely older than Yokig. The bishop raised his palm and smacked the young guards flesh as hard as the old man possibly could, leaving a pink hand print on the young kingsmans skin.
"What is your name?" The bishop demanded of the guard.
"Gremleddle, father bishop"
"Gremleddle. There is no excuse for failure. The One Gods work should be done willingly, humbly and completely" The bishop looked at the young man as if he were disciplining a child for misbehavior. "If the last one isnt found before nightfall I will hold you men personally responsible"
The young man took his punishment and stood at attention trying to avoid eye contact with the bishop. "Yes, father bishop. It will be done"
"Good." The bishop gave a satisfied grin and returned his attention to the prisoners. He grabbed Yokigs chin in his palm and lifted the boys head to view his face. "So this is the boy with dreams?" The bishop moved Yokigs head around to view it completely in the light from the window of the cathedral. "I imagined you'd be taller, stronger. But you're just a thin boy; barely older than my alter boy."
The bishop released Yokigs face, the pressure from the bishop's grip surprised the boy and it took him a few seconds for his face to feel normal again.
"Please father bishop, you have to let us…" Dresmael began to plead but the bishop cut her off, placing his finger on her lips gently.
"Silence young lady, the bishop of Negathor speaks" Dresmael trembled in fear at his touch. "Now, as per the Pope King's orders. I'm not to harm you. I suppose he wants to do the honors of killing you all when he gets here in three days time. And if I were to be completely honest, who am I to question or defy the mouthpiece of the One God." The bishop paused. He placed his hand palm side first on his mouth and kissed it before placing that same palm on his forehead. He returned his gaze to the travelers.
"However," he mused. "I can make your stay in my beautiful city very, very uncomfortable." The bishop snapped his fingers and the guards seized the travelers' restraints, pulling them up to their feet by their heavy shackles. "Take them away and make sure to give young boy with dreams here a cell in the dungeon ment for a king."
Everything returned to darkness as the sack was drawn over Yokigs head again, flinging him into a dark blindness.
"Move!" The kingsmen ordered. Yokig followed directions , he was too disoriented from what just happened to properly think. So he focused on his feet and the sound they made as they trekked over the stone floor of the church. The prisoners were not led outside; however, they were made to turn left as they headed down another set of stairs. Yokig counted the steps as they went by; thirteen ...fourteen...fifteen...He almost tripped a few times but the kingsmen leading him stopped his fall by pulling hard on his chains. As they descended, Yokig felt as though they were going in circles. He felt a bit dizzy when the mysterious stone staircase evened out, becoming level.
A door was opened and suddenly the silence was filled with horrible noises. Chains dragging across the floor, Plees to be released, Incessant coughing. An unseen man screaming odd things at the top of his lungs at the passing guards as they led the prisoners to their final destination.
Yokig heard the sound of iron being pulled across stone as another door was opened . The shrill sound sent shivers down Yokigs spine, causing his ears to start ringing. He felt his chains being pulled up and attached to a metal ring as his back was made to touch a cold stone wall. Finally the sack was removed for the final time. His eyes re-adjusted and he saw the kingsmen leave, locking the metal bars of the cell behind them.
Yokigs heart sank. He had hoped he would be able to see at least a little bit of the city he so desperately wanted to experience. He had hoped they would be able to sneak in undetected, that they would be able to reach the safety of the brotherhoods den and retrieve the compass. He reflected on the failure of the mission. Am I not the boy king? He beat himself up over that thought mentally, until his brain hurt. This was not supposed to happen. Not to him. He regretted having dreams, he regretted leaving the village, he was angry that his grandfather died on him but most of all he was angry at himself for wanting something more than being a humble baker. It would have been so much easier to remain a baker, to have ignored the men on the square that fateful day. If he would have walked right passed them, not giving them the time of day, he would of had a warm place to still go back to and none of this would have happened to him. At this moment, more than ever, he just wanted to be normal. Yokig kicked at the air as tears streamed down his face.
They had separated the travelers into two cells; Yokig and Dresmael in one cell, Redbeard in the other. The man a few cells down yelled obscenities at the newcomers. Dresmael was utterly defeated, swinging like a limp forgotten doll on the chains that dangled her small body from the ceiling. Her hair hid her face from view.
"It's over, isn't it?" She sniffed, her voice low and unsure.
Redbeard gave up on trying to break out of his tight restraints. "'I'm afraid so Girl. Sorry." He hung his head low.
"They took my spellbook." Dresmael wallowed. "Everything Grenalda taught me is in that book."
"They took everything, child." Redbeard looked up at the stone ceiling. "Grenalda will never forgive me."
"How could they have known? They were waiting-- just waiting-- for us at the exit of the tunnels." Yokig saw that Dresmael was trying to piece the events together in her mind. "How could they have known?"
"At least Blackpaw got away. At least she could tell my wife what happened." Redbeard stomped his foot aggressively on the ground, causing the whole dungeon to tremble from his foot's heavy impact. "Damn it!" The giant let out a roar of frustration.
The ringing in Yokigs ear grew louder, until it was all he heard. He gave into the sound and found his body slowly vibrating. He felt as though an invisible hand was trying to pull him out of his body from the center of his chest. The dungeon faded away leaving Yokig in a sea of darkness.
As quickly as it came, the vision stopped, dumping Yokig back in the dungeon struggling against his constraints. The sound in his ears died down, his hearing returning to normal. He checked to see if his friends were still there. Regrettably, he found out they were.
Yokig dismissed what had just happened as a hallucination. If he told them they would never believe him. Besides, what's the point? He was going to die in a couple of days anyway. He gave in to the thought of death and the imaginings of the sweet silence he would have from it. Right now, he thought, death would be a welcome release.
And as he sat there, his mind drifting off into the depths of despair, the tiredness that had followed him all this way finally caught up to him. And it pulled him away into a deep sleep where he found himself, yet again, in the comforting clearing of the forest.