Chapter 17
Isadora did not know how long she had been in the tunnels but she was sure that Colt would have noticed her disappearance by now and would have sent out a search party.
More out of fear that she had betrayed than from any loyalty to her.
She was beginning to think that the tunnels would never end when there was another dim glow of hope in the distance.
Candlelight flickered between the cracks in the wall and as she approached she could hear no noises in the room behind.
Taking it as a good sign, she sheathed her sword and felt around the wall for a lever of some kind which would flip the door and allow her entry.
The bricks were cold and damp under her fingertips and her stomach growled as she yearned for food.
Wind blew across her face through the cracks, blowing her hair out of her face, until her fingers found a small latch which, as she pressed it down and back, the large brick wall slid open and revealed an inter-room.
Quietly unsheathing her sword once again, she stepped forward into the warmth of the candles and found herself in a stately room with thick lush rugs laid out to cover the cold stone floor and a banquet of food laid out in front of her.
No one was in sight as she lowered the tip of her sword to face the ground and the door shut behind her; leaving her entirely alone with no exit.
But she had seen worse. However she had never seen so much food so, taking the opportunity, she stepped forward and began to indulge herself.
She was still in the castle, she could tell that much from the stone surrounding her, which meant anything inside was hers as she was Colt’s second in command.
The entire country had heard of his betrayal by now and surrounding kingdoms were undoubtedly locking up their doors.
Sinking her teeth into a thick chicken leg, grazing the bone, she moaned as the still-warm meat rushed down her throat and settled in her stomach; easing some of the discomfort which hunger brought with it.
“You are here,”
Dropping the chicken to the floor, she twirled around and pressed her sword against the throat of the person that had spoken.
It was the red-headed maid from the hall that Isadora had followed.
Izzie watched the young girl with confusion; no one had been able to sneak up on Izzie before and she placed the slip up to her hunger when in truth she knew she had been hungrier and more desperate at times before this and still she had not slipped up then.
“Who are you?” Izzie tilted her head to the side to see around the long blade of her sword which was tipped against the young girls’ throat, her eyes staring down her blade with fear.
“Marri- Marriane,” she squeaked, “You’re her,” She whispered in wonderment.
“Does anyone else know we’re here?” Izzie asked, looking around the girl to the closed door behind her.
“No,” Marriane shook her head furiously, “You must be kept safe,” she widened her eyes at Izzie.
Seeing no threat in this girl and suspecting she could get further without the threat of force, she sheathed her sword and stared at the maid in wonder, “I can take care of myself,” Izzie turned back to the table and grabbed another fresh chicken leg to eat.
Too hungry to care about what people thought of her she ripped the meat from the bone and swallowed before chewing it completely.
The maid looked frightened and disgusted at the same time but yet she was still staring.
“Stop that,” Izzie snapped over her shoulder.
Marianne opened her mouth to protest that she was doing nothing.
“Stop staring at me before I gauge your eyes out,” Izzie clarified for her before she turned and leant back against the table, “Now, tell me, clearly,” she emphasised, “What you meant when you said that I was she?”
“The woman from the prophecy,” Marianne smiled as a glimmer of hope sparkled in her blue eyes.
Izzie groaned with annoyance and tiresome; how many more prophecies were going to be conjured up to save the hope of humanity?
“Oh really?” Izzie sighed, “And what did this prophecy say?” She tilted her head and took another bite of her chicken.
“That a warrior woman with a dark past would come to our kingdom and save us from the throne,”
Izzie stopped chewing for a second, “The king?” she assumed from the word ‘throne’, “Not the betrayer?” she was thinking of Colt.
But why would there be a prophecy for someone to save people from a king? She knew he had been killing his own people but prophecies were created years in the making.
They could not see this coming, surely?
“This is a trick,” Izzie stood straight and rested her hand on her sword, “You’re tricking me to get the kingdom back from Colt,”
“No!” Marianne protested too loud as she looked over her shoulder, worrying someone had heard her, “We need you! The King he- he isn’t in his right mind,”
“You can say that again,” Izzie scoffed.
“No- you don’t understand, he- he keeps his only living heir locked up in the dungeons. He sacrifices peasants to the Devil and there are stories that he can-” Marianne took a breath as her lips started to turn blue, “That he can do magic,”
“A sorcerer?” Izzie raised an eyebrow in mockery, “You’ll have to do better than that, girl, if you wish to bait me, now . . . would you mind telling me exactly where we are in the castle?”
“We’re not in the castle,” The maid frowned, shaking her head.
“Well, where are we then?” Izzie sighed in exasperation. She was quickly starting to lose her temper.
“We’re in the dungeons. This feast is for the Prince himself,”
Izzie looked back at the banquet before looking around the walls and saw that there were no windows.
“Why would there be a secret tunnel to the dungeons from the throne room?” Izzie snapped, it didn’t make sense.
“The King didn’t imprison his son for nothing,” the maid told her, “In fact it wasn’t the King’s idea at all . . . it was his son’s!”
“The prince had himself locked up?” Izzie frowned, her gaze flickering around the room as she gripped her sword tighter, “But why would he-? Oh,” Izzie smiled, tilting her head back as she knew why, “That’s very clever.”
Izzie admired him for his skill at the very least.
“I’m glad you think so,” A dark sound taunted her from behind. It sounded like ten thousand dark voices speaking the same words at once directly into her ears.
But when she turned there was nothing there but a brick wall.
But Izzie had come to suspect brick walls after discovering the secret tunnel. How many more were there in the castle?
“What was that?” she asked over her shoulder to Marianne, keeping her eyes peeled to the wall.
“That was the prince,” Marianne replied, her voice no longer so scared or shaky.
“You said he could use magic, what if he-?” Izzie turned back to Marianne to see her stood directly in front of her, her eyes completely opaque with no white bits, as she smiled darkly up at her.
Izzie’s own eyes widened as a six-inch dagger, swirled in darkness, appeared in the girl’s hand before she slipped it under Izzie’s ribs and into her lung.
Izzie raised her sword to strike her down when the high shrill of laughter shattered her ear drums and the girl vanished from view only for her to reappear across the room and with the flick of her hand, Isadora’s sword went flying across the room and imbedded itself in the stone wall.
“Now,” Marianne stepped forward as Izzie pressed her hand against her bleeding wound; her blood seeping out between her fingers.
Marianne’s image shimmered and grew into another image as she took more steps forward.
Izzie was struggling for breath as she stammered backwards, unable to control the fear that Was gripping her heart.
“Tell me again how clever you think I am,” the laughter grew dark and heavy as she looked up at the image of a young man.
“You’re the-,” Izzie’s eyes struggled to stay open as lost more blood, “You’re the-”
“-The prince,” He finished for her, still smiling.
And it was that smile and that laugh which haunted her dreams as she lost her first battle.