Another summer had passed since Shea and Flick had returned from their quest. Now they sat comfortably in the Palace of Leah conversing about past events. There was a cool summer breeze that blew in from the windows coming from the massive river, the Rappahalladran River from the northwest. The summer wildlife noises sounded from outside. Menion Leah stared contently outside as the story was passed onto him.
A dragonfly wavered around the windowsill of the library in which they sat. Menion caught himself staring at the beauty of the dragonfly. There weren't many of them left in the world and they certainly did not exist in the climate of the Highlands. Maybe, the destruction of the Warlock Lord had brought about peaceful changes he wondered in amazement. The sun's rays reflected off the dragonfly's wings with gave it a color as if light had passed through a crystal. The colors slowly filled the library as the dragonfly shifted itself higher and landed upon the window shades.
"Are you listening, an obviously agitated Flick asked?"
Momentarily, Menion detached himself from his thoughts long enough to catch the last word of Flick's sentence. He noticed that Shea was having trouble skinning the orange he was trying to eat. He drew his hunting knife from his boot and passed it to Shea who whispered a thanks in return.
"Of course I am, I would be dumb to pass up an offer to listen to your story my friend."
Flick acknowledged that Menion had not heard what he had been saying for the past couple of minutes and took the liberty of repeating what he had said to Menion who apparently was staring out the window again. Nonetheless, Flick began to retell his story to Menion.
"We were trekking through the forests of Arborlon when…"
Suddenly, a sharp yell came from outside the palace window. The breeze that had blown in from the forests around Leah had now stopped. There was no noise at all, only silence following the yell they had heard. The three friends immediately rushed to the window to examine what was the conflict, just in time to see a figure dressed in dark robes, burned to ashes by a stream of fire. The heat from that fire was so great that even at the distance that stood between the fires and the castle, was felt strongly at the palace. It was as if a shockwave of heat had been sent out from the fires that engulfed the dark robed figure.
There stood a solitary figure only a couple feet from the scorched ground in which now only ashes stood. The figure was about 6 feet tall and not very wide. The robes it wore were black that even the sun's ray could not penetrate through the robe. It had very strong arms that were laced with muscle and sinew, both pulsating softly as it moved closer to the palace gates. It moved with such agility and speed that it seemed to glide across the highlands to the gates of Leah. It seemed that the figure would have rammed down the gates if he had not stopped, barely a few feet from the gates…waiting for something. Whatever it was waiting for did not happen and it began to walk in a cautious manner to the gates of Leah. It crossed the bridge above the moat, muscles tensed, ready for a surprise attack that would not be. The highlander Menion had not been expecting a visitor today. The figure stopped at the gates and slowly lifted an arm and knocked 3 times on the old oak gate that barred entry into the palace of Leah. It kept its hood wrapped around its lowered head so that its true nature could not be seen.
The three friends stared out of the library window at the figure, each lost in their own thoughts. Finally, the silence was broken by an astonished Menion who looked at Shea and Flick with eyes that asked if they knew anything about this. The response was what he had expected. None of them knew what was happening. Menion wished now that he had not been so quick to dispatch his guards for the long weekend. Now, they were alone in the palace and undefended. Menion swore silently at his stupidity. How could a prince of Leah make such a mistake and leave his beloved palace unguarded. He was busy tormenting himself as the half brothers, Shea and Flick looked on when suddenly, he remembered about his son. Immediately, he asked Shea and Flick to go and look after his son while he went to confront the thing that was now at the door. With a gesture of agreement, Shea and Flick began to walk to the southern wing of the palace, to where Rone resided in.
Menion watched as the two brothers walked off to his son's room until they disappeared around a corner before heading back down the palace stairs to the room in which he kept his fabled Sword of Leah in case something like this ever happened. He did not believe that he would need his sword anymore since the last of the evils was defeated a summer ago but the need had arisen again. It was only a few minutes walk to the palace stairs. Passing many corridors, he did not notice the absence of the inhabitants of the rooms. He was thinking instead of the war between the Warlock Lord and the last stand he had made at Callahorn. He didn't feel like fighting. With a disappointed sigh, he walked down the last stair and down the hall to the room in which his sword was kept. He grasped the handle to the door and slowly turned the knob, lamenting every step he took to the cabinet inside the room in which his sword lay. He found the cabinet empty.
Shea and Flick made their way through the palace, looking for Rone's room which was somewhere on the topmost floor of the castle. The walls of the castle in this section had been toughened to withstand the most of damage. Menion apparently did not want his son to be hurt. The walls were thicker but made of the same material as the rest of the palace was, great colored stone. The two brothers had not spoken to each other since Menion had directed them to Rone's room. They knew the possible danger behind what had happened and had decided not to talk to save energy in case it was needed. Shea reached up and released a secret latch located on the grey stone that was 3 from the left corner of the wall. Immediately, the wall swung open revealing a set of stairs that led to the second floor of the southern corridor. They were just about to ascend the stairs when suddenly, the sound of battle erupted explosively from the main hall where Menion had gone.
"That's Menion! We have to go back and help him. He might need our help, Flick tried to convince Shea."
"No, Menion does not need us to interfere. He asked us to get his son and keep him out of harm. We would be slowing him down if we were to go and help him fight. It would be best if we retrieved his son. It would help him more if we obtained his son and kept him safe."
"I don't feel safe leaving Menion to attend to a monster like that!"
"What can we do to help him in battle? Look at us, all we have on us are these flimsy hunting knives. Would they do much good against a creature of magic?"
"We should still try and help him, Flick tried to reason with Shea."
"Seeing as you cannot be convinced, you go and help Menion. I will go and get his son. Be careful, that kind of magic can kill easily. I have gone against it and know what you are up against.
Flick and Shea said their farewells and Flick turned the corner and ran to help Menion. Shea turned around and peered into the dark stairway until his eyes had adjusted to the light in the stairway. He steadily ascended the rickety stairway up to the second floor of the southern wing. The second floor of the southern wing differentiated from the first floor by large. It had the look of a palace with its walls made of smooth purple marble. There were iron spikes driven into the walls so that any outside attempt at penetration was made nearly impossible. There were arrow slits for the archers that were dispatched along with the guards for the long weekend by Menion.
His heart raced as he neared the corridor in which Rone lived in. The door to the room was slightly ajar. There were scratch marks on the door and the door handle had been snapped off. The handle lay on the floor just outside of the room. Through the narrow crack of the open door, he saw that everything was in disorder. The room had been trashed as if the attackers were looking for something. Without opening the door any further, Shea knew that they had been too late to save Menion's son. He hastily turned around and dashed towards the stairs and to the main hall to tell Menion about what had happened.
The living quarters were located at the northern part of the palace. It was a room in which there were dummies for training on and all the services for life. It had its own restaurant (abandoned since it was the weekend), own swimming pool and many other luxuries of life. The walls in these rooms were unlike any other part of the palace. The walls were laced with paintings and other various decorations to make the room appear more lively. On the far walls of the room were windows that stretched from 2 feet above the ground to the ceiling. The view outside the windows were the most glorious part of the highlands.
There were gigantic redwood trees that bent over with age, massive mountains that stretched beyond the horizon, plains that were flat that an egg could be stood upon it easily without falling. Streams and raging rivers rushed down the mountain slopes and cut through the plains until it rested in a beautiful lake, carved down into the plains. The sun glared through the windows, leaving uniquely shaped shadows, stretched upon the ground. It seemed that nothing could destroy the beauty of the living quarters.
In this room was Rone. He was not in his room as he was supposed to be. Rone looked much like his father Menion. He had his father's eyes and incredible strength. Rone also had the power to summon the magic that laid dormant in the Sword of Leah. Being a direct descendant of the Leah bloodline, he would become king when Menion dies. Because of Menion's addiction to the magic that laid in the Sword of Leah, the magic had affected him indirectly and had shown in his son Rone. Rone possessed the power of immunity to many other magics that dominated the four lands. Not many knew of his special power.
He picked up the Sword of Leah and began to swing it about, not knowing that his father needed it most now. He had taken the sword from the cabinet in where it was kept, meaning to see for himself the power that the Sword of Leah had infused in it. The power did not come out however. He had tried on many occasions to make it work, but he was unsuccessful each time. Attempting to summon its power again, he swung it at a dummy that shattered under the blow that was dealt.
Rone looked at the blade, astonished that he could destroy the dummy with ease. His reflection reflected dully off the blade. The blade seemed like any other normal blade but upon further examination, one could see magic at work. The sword itself had not one scratch, not one dent, even after the many battles it had been through and experienced. The sword was amazingly durable and could cut through anything, even stone walls. This was made possible because the sword contained magic, fused of Allanon's magic and the magic of the Hadeshorn which was deadly poison which none but the druid Allanon dared to go near.
He began to swing the blade again to strike at another dummy placed for combat training when the door behind him opened. A person that Rone knew entered the room. The person took Rone by his arm and whispered softly to him in his ear. Rone looked as if he was surprised at what the person had said and dropped the Sword onto the ground. Rone then nodded as if he understood what he had been told. Without another word, the person led Rone out of the room, hand in hand, away from the palace, away from his father, away from the figure that stood at the gates.
The castle slowly disappeared from view as Rone was led by the person who had come to get him at the living quarters. They were well onto the mountains before Rone sensed that something was wrong. It was then that Rone found out that he had been tricked and had been betrayed by the thing that now stood beside him.
The solitary figure that had walked cautiously to the gates of Leah and waited for the gates to open had now lost its patience. It had decided that it had enough of waiting when no one appeared to open the gates. It rose its arms and launched a stream of fire, the same fire that had burned another creature to ashes, only a few moments ago. The gates burned down fiercely and easily. Nothing was left of the gates but the scorched ground and the empty doorway. It stepped into the palace and looked as if it had been to the palace before. It moved at an alarmingly fast rate as if he knew where everything was and headed immediately to where Rone had once been. It turned left and went to the door that led to the living quarters and training room. With a wave of his hands, the door flew open to reveal that it was empty, save for the mighty Sword of Leah that lay scattered upon the ground. It let out a barely audible laugh knowing that it had succeeded and had deceived all.
"You there! What do you think you are doing, intruding into my palace like this, Menion demanded."
Menion finally got the chance to see the figure that had been at the gates up close. The figure had scaly arms, legs and sprouted a tail that dragged across the floor as it walked. The face was of the intruder was still hidden behind the hood. It resembled something of an overgrown lizard that stood on its hind legs.
The thing merely looked at him, disregarding what Menion had said. It disregarded the fact that Menion was even there. In a rush of anger, Menion charged at the thing. It reacted instantly and dodged Menion's assault and glided deeper into the room. Its movements so swift, that it caught the highlander off guard. Its scaly hands now slipped free of the robes unveiling razor sharp claws. It hissed venomously at the highlander. Menion reached to his boot to draw his hunting knife only to find emptiness. His knife wasn't there! He remembered then that he had given it to Shea only moments ago. Frantically looking around the room for something to arm himself, he spotted the missing Sword of Leah on the floor, the very last place he thought of to look. Did he leave it there when he last trained he thought. He hastily retrieved his sword while dodging his attacker's swipes.
Menion heaved the sword with two hands into the air, swinging it in fits of fury to try and hit his attacker. The sword moved as if it were as light as a feather. He feinted a stab to the abdomen with his sword, trying to catch his attacker off guard but his attacker was as skilled as him and was unaffected. This went on for a long time, none could find an opening in the other. Menion had not summoned the magic of the Sword yet, hoping that he wouldn't have to. Then, his attacker moved with such speed and agility that Menion did not register that it had moved. It slammed into Menion who dropped to the floor and slid halfway across the room from the force that had been delivered. When he recovered, he looked up only to find that the room was abandoned. In confusion, he searched cautiously around the room but could not find his attacker. At that instant, the attacker knew he had the element of surprise. It jumped away from the ceiling, where it had attached itself and landed silently and swiftly on the ground. Without hesitation, it raised its arms and lanced fire at the human who had its back turned to it.
Flick now dashed through the barren hallways, disregarding the silence that surrounded him. The click of his shoes as he hit the ground was the only thing that broke the silence. Something was terribly wrong. He had come to that conclusion when he had first seen the figure in robes. Shea had told him not to worry about anything, and that he would take care of Rone. But what if something h ad already happened to Rone, he thought to himself? He slowed his run to a stop as he whispered to himself to keep his panic from rising.
"I've got to keep these thoughts at bay and concentrate if I plan to be of any use to Shea or Menion, Flick told himself."
He had last thought these words a summer ago when he was under attack by the Warlock Lord and his minions. How he hated feeling helpless. The Warlock Lord had made him feel helpless when it almost succeeded in destroying the four races, him included. Now he felt the same helpless sense...dashing through the remaining twists and turns that lay before him, Flick could not get the thoughts that something was terribly wrong out of his mind.
Menion had yelped in pain and surprise as the fire encircled him and threatened to scorch him. The battle hardened instincts that lay inside him had saved him once again. He had jumped away to avoid the fires once he had first felt it strike at him. He turned this time to see that his opponent was still lancing fire at him in a fury a rapid strikes. The Sword of Leah was beginning to pulse softly in his hands. He knew what was happening. The magic wanted to release itself, the same magic that now flowed through his pounding veins. The Sword of Leah suddenly flared to life as Menion counterattacked the flames that sought to consume him. Lost in the magic of the Sword, he charged and attacked irregardless of his own safety as the Sword of Leah dissolved the flames. With one quick thrust to the abdomen, the thing that had been lancing fire stopped and pushed against his abdomen in shock that it had been injured.
It was happening again. He could see himself so clearly that it would seem that he was outside his own body. He saw himself, lost in the magic of the Sword, bringing about the sword for one final strike...the strike that would claim the life of its attacker. He could not let that happen yet. He had to seek out the answers that only his attacker knew. Breathing in heavily and sucking in big gulps of air, he sought to calm his anger and lock the magic of the Sword of Leah back inside the blade. He was met with resistance from the blade that now craved for more flesh and blood. Closing his eyes and thinking of more pleasant times, he felt himself lowering his arms and avoiding the final blow. After what seemed like a long time, Menion finally calmed the Sword of Leah's magic back into the blade. The sword that had once flared brightly with magic now returned to its usual dull appearance. Breathing out in relief, he locked his eyes onto his attacker and began to interrogate him.
"Who are you and what do you want of Leah, Menion asked."
The creature which now lay upon the floor bleeding to death now responded with a series of quick laughs. It was dying. Its hood that it worn, had fallen off, revealing a human underneath it. It responded in a raspy voice that sounded very much like a hiss.
"Me want? No, no, it wasn't me that wanted anything. I was following orders from the master...I am glad to meet my death for I have served my purpose. He will be very pleased, was the response."
"How could you have served your purpose? I have fatally wounded you; therefore, you could not have gone anywhere else and done anything else. Tell me now, how you have served your purpose, Menion angrily demanded!"
There was a pause as the robed figure gasped for air. Menion furiously reached down and grabbed the robes that covered his attacker and lifted him in the air. There was no hint of emotion in the attacker's eyes as Menion shook him.
"Answer me now or you'll wish that death would come quicker!"
"I was merely a distraction. You of all people must know of this strategy. My master has commanded me and I have done as he has said. He has sent me with a message and it is simply this; you shall never defy his reign again!"
As the human underneath the hood finished its last words, it began to change shape. At first, Menion thought he was seeing things and was naturally confused as the thing had begun to change shape. It went through many shapes and figure, reflections of his victims, until it finally rested upon one. It resembled the face of a reptile, a snake-like face with green scales over its head. Its tail now sprouted and grew longer then it was before. Menion leaned against a beaten up dummy for a while observing the dead reptile thinking of its last words. Shea had said something when he was listening back in the library...something about his quest that was familiar to him. Suddenly, he began to see the truth. The thing that lay in front of him was a creature of ancient ancestors. It was a changeling. A changeling could take form of anything it chose to. Long ago, when t he Warlock Lord lived in person, they had sworn an alliance with him. Could it be that the Warlock Lord had returned. The more he thought about it, the more it began to make sense. Shocked, Menion stared dumbly at the floor as he came to the realization that there may have been more of these changelings roaming through his castle for the last few days. He then remembered the three elves that had come to his palace days earlier.
It had been four days before the arrival of Shea and Flick. Menion had been roaming the castle in the absence of his parents who were the king and queen of Leah. This left him in charge of ruling over the highlands of Leah. He was having a friendly conversation with the southern tower guards that stood to guard the palace from attack when a messenger from the northern tower came to speak with him. He remembered now the exact words that his messenger had spoken to him. It was of a warning not to allow entrance to the travelers. The messenger had thought them to be suspicious.
"Your majesty, 3 travelers have shone up at the front gates of Leah. They claim to have come from Arborlon but I have not heard or seen these people before. I strongly suggest that you turn them away...it might be smarter to do so."
"Nonsense! Anyone from Arborlon is a friend of ours. The elves from Arborlon stood with me and the other races and made their last stand against the Warlock Lord at Callahorn. It wouldn't be repayment if I was not to allow them entrance. Let them in."
The messenger replied something that Menion did not hear and saluted him before walking back to allow the elves entrance. He remembered the look that the messenger had given him...it was one of fear. The messenger had to share his provisions and living quarters with the elven travelers and would have been the first to die if his suspicious came true. It now seemed to Menion that he should have listened to his messenger.
Menion came instantly out of his thoughts as he reviewed how his rule of Leah had been. He had made mistakes that even a common man would not have made. In a rush of anger, he flung his sword across the room. Dropping to his knees, he attacked the stone floor in fury, letting his emotions hammer into the ground. He had put everyone in the palace in danger and he had not known until now. He thought of his friends, each and every one of them probably dead by now. Then, he remembered his son. Had Shea and Flick rescued him yet? Without another thought, he retrieved his sword from the ground where he had flung it to and went to go check on Shea and Flick, the two people inside his palace that were likely to be the last ones alive.
He walked through the halls, heart pounding crazily at what he had discovered in the living quarters. If his suspicions were true, then the elves that had visited him had been disguised and were changelings. His son was one of the inhabitants that were closest to the elves. The elves had been placed in a room directly above his son's room. They must have penetrated the room and taken his child away by now...or worse, killed him. The one thing that he hated about his palace was its size, and now he hated it most. The room in which his son stayed in was on the opposite side o f the palace at the top of a tower. It would take a couple minutes, running at a fast pace to make it there. His mind raced as he drew nearer and nearer to the tower.
Shea dashed down the long corridors of Leah with a building panic. The sounds of battle had ceased long ago. Where was Rone? He wasn't in his room where he was supposed to be! From the looks of his room, someone must have taken him away! He passed the living quarters at the southern wing of the palace, the kitchen and the dining hall...everywhere but one place. Instinctively, he knew that Rone must have been down in the secret dungeon where he, Flick and Menion had played when they were younger. But how would he have gotten in there? The release switch that opened the dungeon was located much higher than Rone could reach. He knew that something had happened. The members of the palace all lay dead in their sleep, throats slit open, no signs of struggle. An inner invasion? No, it must have been done by someone w ho was trusted in the palace, Shea thought to himself. Whatever the reason was, Shea would never find out. As he rounded the last turn to the wine cellars and the secret dungeon that lay inside, he collided at full speed with something tremendously big and hard...then, all went dark. His last thoughts were how he had failed to protect Rone.
Flick had seen the corpse of the changeling upon the ground at the main entrance in the training room. Menion had left which left Flick relieved that his friend was still alive until he thought about the changeling again. With that one sight, his thoughts were confirmed. Something had gone wrong! He forced his panic to cease as he began to run to find Shea who would be returning, hopefully with Rone. As Flick passed the wine cellar entry, he heard a faint cry coming from within the room. Forgetting about Shea and Rone, he went to investigate what the sound was coming from.
He descended the stairs to his left, determined to locate the sound and found himself in the wine cellar. The wine cellar was dark and damp. There was no light available in the cellars. Naturally, the reason for this was to keep the cellar dark and damp. There were racks made from redwood laced the walls of the wine cellar. The racks of course, contained bottles of different wine products upon it. It was like a library for wine, there were "bookshelves" in the middle of the room forming rows of wine racks. It grew silent as Flick penetrated the darkness of the wine cellar. There must have been a secret passage somewhere in the cellars. He remembered that he had been in it as a child along with his brother and Menion. Suddenly, a sharp creak broke the silence. Flick turned around just in time to see a wine rack slide away from the wall until all went dark. As he fell, Flick came to the realization that they had all been tricked and that the thing at the gates was meant to be merely a distraction.
Menion had arrived at the elves room only to find that it w as empty. His worst fears had just come to pass. His child had been kidnaped by the Warlock Lord...but for what reason? He began to pace himself as he ran through the halls trying to find any sign of his son. Where was Shea and Flick? Maybe they had rescued his son before he had been taken away, he thought. He strongly doubted what he had thought and knew that Shea and Flick were either both dead or taken away during his fight with the changeling. Nevertheless, he ran searching for the two brothers, all the time thinking of the events that had passed.
The Sword of Leah which was now strapped behind his back was not where he had last put it. Instead, it had been in the training room...but he hadn't been there for a while. The way the sword was place upon the ground signalized that it had been dropped there recently or the sword would have had dust on its handle. His militaristic mind did not think for very long before he found an answer to his dilemma. His son must have been in there recently and had been practicing! But how long ago was this? He couldn't stop thinking that he could've arrived earlier to find his son and possibly saved him from his fate. He swore at himself. He was always one step behind the Warlock Lord and that made him feel insecure. He yelled then, as loud as he could but the only response was the echo that returned. With a heavy heart, he dashed through the remainder of the halls back to the main entrance hoping to find Shea or Flick or any other occupant of his beloved palace that was still alive and ask of what had happened.
Rone had found himself outside of the castle with his hands tightly bound behind his back when he finally awoke from the illusion put upon him. The hand that he had held now turned into a reptilian claw-like hand. He was being roughly carried and handled as well. His captor walked to somewhere Rone could not tell. His eyes had been bound as well as his feet and mouth. Apparently, his kidnaper did not want anyone to know of what had happened to Rone until it was too late to save him. He could hear the sound of running water and the smell that arose from the flowers only found by the Rainbow lake at the end of the Silver river. He had been to this place once or twice when his father had taken him on a hunting expedition. He could feel the heat of the sun upon his back. Who...or what would be this clever and outsmart his father and kidnap him he wondered. For the time being, there was nothing that could be done except to conserve his energy for an escape if it were ever possible. With that thought in mind, he began to drift off to sleep.
He did not fall asleep for a while. The rough feeling of his captor's body as it brushed against him with every step that it took, kept him from falling asleep. He thought of his father and how he would not be there to save him this time. He had to come to accept that he was finally on his own. He had to devise an escape plan by himself...but first, he had to free himself. He tested the bonds that held his hands together and found that it wasn't as tight as he thought it was. He decided then that, that night he would try and escape his captors but he would need to save his energy to escape.
Menion began to panic as he raced through the halls of his precious palace. He didn't care much that his followers that lived in the palace had been slain. He only cared about Shea and Flick who had the power to reverse the nightmare. Little did he know that Shea and Flick had already been captured. "Where were they", Menion whispered to himself as he searched the halls of his palace, listening to the echo of his voice. He was alone in his palace. Even the changelings that had infiltrated his defenses were gone as well. Suddenly from far off in the distance towards the southern wing of his palace came a cry. Menion jumped at the sound that broke the silence. The voice had scared him but he recognized it at once as his son's voice. He hurriedly changed directions and began to dash back the way he had come. As he descended the stairs to the wine cellars, he heard the cry again. Apparently it was coming from inside the wine cellars. Menion knew at once that it must have been inside the secret dungeon that lay behind the racks in front of him. How did the changelings find this dungeon, Menion wondered as he crept foward towards the open dungeon doors.
Menion stood before the doors and peered cautiously in. The crying voice had stopped and all was silent save for the beating in his heart as he thought that he might still have a chance to save his son. An immediate change came over the environment as he stepped into the dungeon. A strong musty smell overpowered the scent of the wines that were behind him. The air grew steadily cooler and moist as he stepped deeper into the cellars to investigate. A sense of danger suddenly flooded into his mind as he took a step further. A sudden laugh penetrated the silence from behind him. He had only enough time to turn around to catch sight of a figure that stood at the dungeon entrance. In the second that it took for him to react, the figure drew the dungeon doors shut, locking Menion within his own dungeon. A sudden wave of panic rushed through his mind as his mind registered that he was stuck in his dungeon. He dashed over to the closed dungeon doors and pounded with his fists, attempting to break through the stone.
"Fool, I'm such a fool, he cried out in anger!" With a last desperate attempt to shatter the stone that blocked his path, he unsteathed the Sword of Leah from his back and stuck the stone with each strike more powerful than the last. The Sword of Leah intensified in brightness as the magic sought to destroy its enemy. Finally all at once, the light died out as Menion sunk to his knees surrendering, the sword cast aside. He knew that even the Sword of Leah would not break through the dungeon's door without it being shattered first. Realizing that he had been tricked and locked inside his own dungeon, there was nothing keeping the feelings that now overcame him. His son had been kidnaped and he could not do anything about it. He began to sob as he thought of what would happen to his son now that there was no one left to protect him.
