01/17/06 - I touched this up a bit more.
Lyrics © to the Indigo Girls, song "Secure Yourself."
"Secure yourself to heaven, hold on tight the night has come;
Fasten up your earthly burdens, you have just begun…"
Chapter Two: Falling Further
"Virginia!"
"Dad!"
Tony held his arms out to his little girl, and she hugged him as best she could, trying not to disturb Tala, who was cradled in one arm. With tears in her eyes, she wrapped her free arm around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder. For a moment neither said a word, then Tony pulled back and kissed her forehead, smiling.
"Well, I haven't had such an enthusiastic greeting from a woman in years," he quipped, and Virginia gave a shaky laugh. Still sniffling a bit, she turned to the King, who was receiving an enthusiastic greeting from Wolf. When her husband finally turned his attention to her father, she stepped over to Wendell. Instead of taking her hand and bowing, or something, he swept her into a hug, maneuvering so as not to jostle Tala. When he pulled back, he was smiling, and she couldn't help but grin back. The baby, however, soon diverted his attention, and Tony and Wolf gathered around as well. With a grin that only a grandfather can wear, Tony gently took his granddaughter into his arms. Wolf's chest was puffed up; never had he been prouder of his family as his Tala was fawned over by the monarch of the 4th Kingdom and his chief 'architect.'
Wendell was laughing and waving his finger at Tala, and Tony was making ridiculous faces, when suddenly a whirlwind clad in bright purple burst into the room. Everyone looked up at the disturbance.
"Your Majesty! Something terrible has happened…"Lord Rupert stopped abruptly when he noticed that there were two more people in the room than there had been a while ago. No…three more. Oh, dear. "Oh, dear."
"Is there a problem, Lord Rupert?" the King wanted to know. He and Tony glanced at each other. Knowing Rupert, it probably had something to do with the ball…which Virginia and Wolf weren't supposed to know about just yet.
"Er…well…" Obviously, the lord was thinking the same thing. Rupert was nervously eyeing the newcomers. He seemed at a loss for words, which was unusual for him.
Tony gave his granddaughter back to Virginia, and saved the poor man by taking him by the arm and gently steering him out of the room. Wendell looked and the others. "Well, I suppose we should get you settled in, first." He motioned hurriedly for a page, the one who had come with Lord Rupert but was waiting outside the door, to come in and get their guests' bags. With their luggage secured, all three rushed out of the room, Wendell to avert a potential crisis, Wolf and Virginia going along for the ride. In their haste, all of them forgot about one thing…
The mirror was still on. And nobody had noticed what had been happening on the other side.
She couldn't breathe. She couldn't see. It was as if she was being squeezed in a giant's fist; she could feel the pressure from all sides, rushing down on her. She opened her mouth—did she? She couldn't really feel anything but the pressure—and tried to scream, but the air had been sucked from her lungs…and all around was the blackness, the terrible, weighty darkness that rushed in from all sides…
And then she fell. She landed with a solid thump, on her hands and knees, and suddenly she could feel something firm under her, something hard and rough. Her eyes were squeezed shut—when did she do that? —so she opened them.
Her face was inches from a floor; a stone floor. For a moment she sat there, breathing heavily, never taking her eyes off the ground. Then…
Voices! She scrambled up, but too quickly. One of her feet caught around the other's ankle, and she went tumbling backwards, her arms wind-milling furiously. Her wildly groping hands felt something, and she clung to it. But whatever it was that she grasped went toppling over with her, and she felt something attached to the object give under her right hand. Both landed with a crash onto the stone floor that was so different from the grass and dirt of Central Park; the impact jarred her. Something crunched underneath her, and suddenly it felt as if her entire back was on fire, along with her right elbow. Pain stabbed into her with a million tiny needles; for a moment she lay there, too stunned to move, trying to register what had just happened. Gasping for breath, she finally tried to haul herself up, and cringed at the broken glass splintering under her palms. She grimly pushed the pain to the back of her mind, and staggered to her feet, moving away from the obviously broken mirror she had landed on top of.
She thought for a split second of remaining still, so as to not cause any more racket, and then ditched it. By the sound of whoever's voices she had heard, they weren't that far away, and would have heard the noises. She cast a wild glance about her, scanning for an exit. There was an open door to the right of her, but the voices—the ones that were getting closer—were coming from that direction. Taking no time to see what she had landed on, and not caring, she jumped up, and bolted for the curtains opposite the doorway. She prayed to whoever would listen that they weren't locked.
She yanked open the curtains, and flung herself at the funny-looking latch on the window. Managing to pry it open, and taking no time to look behind her, she slung a leg over the windowsill. Grabbing at the sides, she managed to pull her body halfway out. Before freezing.
Oh, my…where the hell was she?
The forest stretching out before her was endless, a great beast lolling in the late afternoon sun. The gently rolling hills that receded into the distance were swathed in oaks, pines, and others she couldn't identify. There wasn't a skyscraper in sight; nothing but green, and the roiling colors that the dying sun gave out. On the far horizon, she saw what suspiciously looked like the beginnings of a mountain range.
He vision swam for a moment, and the bottom of her stomach deserted her. For the next few seconds, all she could do was gape numbly at the sight and gain a death's hold on the sill. Finally, she managed to blink, and her head cleared a little. Forcing her eyes to tear away from the forest, she managed to get a good look at her perch.
She was three stories up, at least. And it looked like the walls were made of some sort of roughened stone, and covered in vines. She cast a quick glance to the right of her, and saw…a tower? But Gage had no time to ponder such things; she was wasting time, and any moment now the phantom voices would be coming for her.
She pulled her other leg over, and pushed her feet into the niches between stones—just the right fit for size-seven toes. When she was settled, she reached back in, pulling at the window until it was closed. Now for the tricky part—grasping a handful of vines, she gently put her weight on them, and let out her breath when they did nothing but creak under her weight. She tried not to think about her elbow.
She glanced back down over her shoulder, at the ground—water—below. Water?
A moat, a voice in her head told her. Then that would make this…
No! Don't think about it; just climb, she told herself, and, taking a shaky breath, did just that.
Cold. All around him, the bitter, biting cold. He should be used to it by now. But somehow, he still feels it.
Noises. Down the…what is it? Hall, a Voice inside reminds him.
Cold. It seeps into his pores, slowly poisoning his body, burning his throat as he crouches. And waits.
Noises. What kind? The kind that mean something…Food…He feels his stomach turn. NO! What kind of noises? Voices.
A scratching sound. More…voices. No. One voice. "Move along! Pick up yer feet, man. Don't wanna to miss the surprise, do ya?" A rumbling sound, like…something. Laughter. Yes. He remembers that. Doesn't he?
A thin crack of light that slowly widens, till he sees the outline of…something. Again. He knows not what the creature is that stands before him, on two legs.
Food…the Voice resounds. He feels his stomach tighten, a growl tingling in the back of his throat. Sinewy muscles bunch and cord, ready to spring. From the shadows in the corner of his cell, he watches the creature pull at another creature, and the second stumbles in. Falls. The door is quickly slammed shut.
Food…
Gregory pulled the door closed hurriedly, and leaned against it for a moment, panting. By the Dragon, but sometimes he hated his job. Why couldn't the Governor feed his own pet sometimes? Or at least, make someone other than him do it. He might be a bully, pitiless and cruel, but no one deserved this.
His bulky frame jerked forward suddenly, away from the door. A noise was coming from the other side. A snarl, feral and inhuman then a scream, abruptly cut off.
Gregory eyed the heavy wooden door, swallowing uneasily. He fought to keep down his dinnerhe could now hear a muffled tearing noise, wet and slurping. Then, a distinctive crunching, as something splintered.
It hadn't been fed for about a week after the troll Reggil had gone, the entire prison echoing with his death shriek, the rest of the prisoners hadn't given the Governor any trouble. Until Falkirk, a snotty young elf that had been making himself more and more of a nuisance lately, had refused to give up his bedding for a new prisoner. It turned out to be his last mistake.
Gregory backed quickly away from the door, and the Beast on the other side. Then he turned around and, with one last look of revulsion tossed over his shoulder, made a quick exit, the scream still echoing in his head.
It didn't matter if the bastards were guilty. No one deserved to be eaten alive.
