Sir Dalton and the Shadow Heart (8 page)

A DESPERATE PLAN

In Drox’s prison there was no day or night, just work time and sleep time. The sun and moon were never seen, and thus the only distinction between day and night was when half of the torches were extinguished for the sleep period. For all Dalton knew, they might be laboring at night and sleeping in the middle of the day. He tried to keep track of the passing time by scratching a mark for each sleep cycle in the corner of his cell.

The prisoners were all given tasks to keep them occupied during waking hours. Some tasks were necessary to the survival of the prisoners, while others were simply menial and often meaningless.

Over the next four weeks or so, Dalton thought often about Si Kon’s words. They scared him and angered him at the same time. He daily resolved to keep the thought of escape foremost on his mind, biding his time while his arm healed.

Dalton learned that all of the prisoners were followers of the Prince, both men and women, and most were young like him. The older prisoners seemed like hollow shells, and they never talked. They simply did their duties, ate their meals, and fell asleep to repeat the next day.

The prisoners were frequently threatened and beaten at the slightest infraction of Lord Drox’s prison rules—all but the older ones, who
always did what they were told. The prisoners were discouraged from talking among themselves and thus developing any camaraderie or unity. The Vincero Knights, the guards, the hounds, and Drox himself enforced this rule with special vigor.

And at the end of each day of labor, Drox would stand in the middle of the open chamber. His voice boomed throughout the prison cavern.

“There is no King. There is no Prince!”

A dozen or so guards and a half-dozen Vincero Knights stood about the cells and replied, “There is no King. There is no Prince!”

“Arrethtrae belongs to the strong, and only fools follow the Code!”

“Arrethtrae belongs to the strong, and only fools follow the Code!” the Vinceros echoed.

“Let he who is strong and not a fool come forth and profess these truths, and I will set him free.” Drox would then wait for any prisoner to step forth from his cell.

One time Dalton saw a fellow knight step forward. The entire cavern fell to absolute silence as the man walked with slumped shoulders to stand before Drox. Dalton wanted to scream out to stop the man, but fear of retribution stayed his tongue.

“What are the truths you have learned here and will now live by?” Drox asked.

“There is no King. There is no Prince,” the knight muttered.

“Speak loudly for all of the foolish to hear,” Drox demanded.

“There is no King. There is no Prince! Arrethtrae belongs to the strong, and only fools follow the Code,” the man said loudly.

Drox gave him a malevolent grin.

“You are free to go.” Drox motioned toward one of the Vincero Knights, who stepped forward with a black hood in his hand to escort the prisoner out.

“See how simple it is?” Drox bellowed. “A few simple words, and all of your misery ends. You needn’t even renounce your oath as a knight. Simply profess one or two of these truths, and you will be free!”

Dalton learned from Si Kon that often when one knight came forward, two or three others would follow. He also learned that Drox would offer to train a freed prisoner into a Vincero Knight if he sensed true disdain for the cause of the Prince and if the prisoner would fully renounce his oath to the Prince. This happened rarely, but it did happen, and these retrained knights became some of the fiercest Vinceros of the kingdom.

That night Dalton lay awake long into the sleep hours in spite of his fatigue. The image of the defeated knight uttering those words replayed over and over in his mind. Dalton ached for freedom too, and for just one brief moment he wondered if it would be so bad to follow in the prisoner’s footsteps. He imagined being back in the kingdom, a free man with no duty to
anyone…
back with Lady Brynn.

It was then that Dalton’s thoughts came to the incident with Makon in Millvale.
Makon must have been here and gone forward just like the knight earlier today
, Dalton thought. He remembered the look of fear in his friend’s eyes and realized that Makon had not been free at all. He was still a prisoner to the fear of Drox and would be all of his days.

Dalton grew angry with himself as he realized his thoughts were beginning to change, just as Si Kon had said. A fire rose up in his bosom, and he extinguished the thoughts of apathy and compromise that tugged on his mind.

“Si Kon,” he whispered. “Si Kon!”

Dalton heard his friend stir.

“Si Kon, come close.”

Si Kon moaned and crawled to Dalton.

“What is it?” he asked annoyed.

“Tomorrow I am leaving,” Dalton whispered so quietly into Si Kon’s ear that virtually no sound passed his lips.

“But your arm is not fully healed yet,” Si Kon protested.

“I cannot wait. I must go now,” Dalton paused. “Come with me, my friend. With two of us, we will have a better chance.”

Si Kon was silent, and Dalton wondered if he had fallen back asleep.

“We will die, Dalton. Drox will surely find us and kill us. I’m sorry… I cannot.”

“Then help me,” Dalton pleaded, “and I will come back for you with an army to set our brothers and sisters free.”

After another long period of silence, Si Kon spoke. “You will need a sword. Tomorrow at labor’s end, I will create a diversion. It will be up to you to recover a sword and hide it in the nearest cell—Lim’s cell. I believe he will take the risk for us. At midsleep, the sword will pass through the cells to you. After that, you are on your own. The exit to the cavern becomes a tunnel that leads upward. Beyond that, I do not know what you will find. No one knows where in the kingdom this wretched place is. We could be in the Wastelands, for all I know.”

“Thank you, Si Kon,” Dalton said. He asked his fellow prisoner many more questions until he was satisfied that he knew as much as possible about the prison and those who guarded it. His mind raced long after their conversation until he finally relinquished himself to a final few moments of restless sleep.

The following day, Dalton could think of nothing but making his escape. He had moments of great anxiety as he thought of facing the dangers, but he quelled them and firmly set his heart to the task. He remembered Si Kon saying that exiting the prison might not be that hard. Perhaps with a sword he would have a chance. He decided that everything hinged on his success in acquiring a sword.

The end of the labor time was approaching. Dalton carried a bucket of water toward the cells nearest the pile of swords…and the hounds of despair. Si Kon was working on the far side of the chamber carrying rocks from one pile to another. He glanced toward Dalton as he passed by a guard. Just then he dropped a rock on the guard’s foot. The guard howled in pain, dancing in a circle and cursing him.

“Fool!” a Vincero knight yelled and rushed over, drawing his sword to strike Si Kon.

“I’m sorry, my lord.” Si Kon lowered himself to the ground. He had all of the attention of the guards, the knights, and the prisoners—but not the hounds.

The knight drew back his sword as Si Kon held up his hands. “My Prince, why have You forsaken us?” he cried out.

The hounds immediately ran over to attack, and the Vincero Knight allowed it, reveling in the vicious onslaught.

Dalton could hardly move as he witnessed the sacrifice his friend had made. “Please let him live, my Prince,” he whispered, and quickly made his way to the swords.

Now all attention was on Si Kon and the attacking hounds. Other knights quickly came to the scene. Painfully aware of the screams of Si Kon, Dalton removed the top sword, being careful not to make a sound. Once it was in his hand, he realized it was his own, for he had been the last prisoner to arrive in this dreadful place.

“Release!” He heard the Vincero Knight call out.

There was only a moment left, and Dalton was too far from the nearest cell. He moved quickly toward it, but he was still twenty paces away.

“You two get him to his cell, and the rest of you get back to work,” the knight commanded.

Dalton considered returning the sword, but now even that was too late. There simply was not enough time, and he would soon be the next meal for the hounds of despair.

He glanced at Si Kon and then toward the cell. To his astonishment, another prisoner stood at the opening with his hand outstretched. Dalton quickly threw the sword the last fifteen paces, hoping the man would catch it. The sword turned end over end once. Then the prisoner caught the hilt with one hand and the base of the sword with the other, cradling it to his bosom. He disappeared into the cell just as the hounds
returned to their post near the swords. They sniffed all around the pile of strewn swords as if something was amiss but finally settled to their former guard positions.

Dalton held his breath another moment until he was certain no one had seen his theft. He quickly made his way to Si Kon and took the place of one of the prisoners carrying him. His brave friend was a bloody mess, and Dalton’s heart broke at the sight of him. One of the dogs had reached his face, and another had torn into his thigh. Once in Si Kon’s cell, Dalton quickly set to cleaning and bandaging the wounds as best as he could.

“Si Kon, you gave too much,” Dalton began, but Si Kon grabbed his tunic and pulled him close.

“When I came, Drox said he would destroy my two daughters if I ever tried to escape. If you make it out…tell them I live!”

Dalton swallowed hard. “I will, my friend. I promise.”

FLEEING THE DARK

Waiting for his sword took every ounce of Dalton’s self-control. He wanted to just walk down to Lim’s cell and get it himself, but that would double his exposure time outside his cell. And so he waited. He stayed close to the iron bars near Si Kon’s cell and dared not speak. He listened for the slightest noise. Hearing nothing left him both relieved and impatient.

Dalton’s left arm was still very weak. He had wrapped it tightly to his torso to keep the upper bone from twisting. He could use his hand and a bit of his lower arm but that was all. He hoped the dressing wouldn’t hinder him too much if he were faced with a fight. The tie to the wrap was at the front, so all he had to do was pull the knot open with his right hand, and both arms would be available in case of an emergency.

Dalton wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but it felt like hours. At various times throughout the sleep period, a guard would walk the perimeter of the outer chamber near the prison cells. Dalton lay still as he heard the guard’s footsteps approach and then fade away to his left. Shortly thereafter, he heard Si Kon slowly sliding across the floor, but it was too dark in the cells to see if he was carrying the sword.

“It is here,” Si Kon whispered and held the hilt toward Dalton. As Dalton grasped the sword, Si Kon grabbed his forearm.

“Be careful, my friend,” Si Kon said soberly. “Drox doesn’t give second chances.”

“Thank you, Si Kon. I’ll not forget you.”

Dalton stood and tucked the hilt of the sword under his left armpit, holding the blade along the left side of his body with his right hand. He crossed over to the cell entrance and peered into the outer chamber. The snores coming from various cells interrupted the cavern’s otherwise heavy silence. He quietly exited his cell to the left and stayed close to the iron bars of the next thirty cells, hiding behind rock outcroppings whenever possible. He tried to synchronize his steps with the rhythm of the loudest snoring man.

When he reached the last cell, he heard the footsteps of another guard making rounds. He was amazed that so much time had already passed and began to worry that he would not make it out of the cavern before the waking alarm.

Dalton froze, wondering where he should hide. The footsteps came closer, and he heard the man in the cell behind him moan. Dalton quickly entered the cell and crouched in the far corner near the man’s boots, hoping the guard would be sloppy in his inspection. Evidently the bundle beneath his blanket in his own cell had fooled the guard, for he had already passed by it without alarm, but now Dalton was sure to be captured.

The torch the guard was carrying flickered with his gait and caused the shadows of the bars to dance in a passing parade. Dalton sank into the rock walls like a cornered mouse. He clutched his sword and decided he would at least fight to the very end. He heard his fellow prisoner stir on the far side of the cell just as the guard reached it.

Dalton held his breath.

“Hey! Do you mind?” Dalton heard the prisoner say loudly, holding
up a hand against the light. The guard looked briefly to the far side of the cell and then away as he passed. The light diminished, but Dalton saw the prisoner slide the waste bucket away from him. After a moment of silence, the man crept near to Dalton.

“Whether you make it or not, you bring us hope,” the man whispered in the murky darkness.

Dalton sighed and moved to the cell opening. He waited until the silence swallowed the receding footsteps of the guard and then made his way to the cavern opening. He felt a cool breeze flowing downward, and it refreshed his spirit to know this air came from a place with no ceiling. Dalton looked about once more to verify he was yet unseen, grasped the hilt of his sword with his right hand, and entered a wide tunnel that sloped gently upward.

The tunnel curved left and right, then divided. The right branch was dark and unlit. It appeared to be a dead end, so Dalton took the left branch, which was illumined with an occasional torch. There was still no sign of Drox or his henchmen, and Dalton became anxious over what he might find at the tunnel’s exit.

After a few more moments of travel in near darkness, the subtle glow of natural light began to illumine his way. He could hardly contain his excitement as he neared the exit. He forced himself to slow his pace and proceed with caution, fearing the exit might be guarded.

To his surprise and delight, there was no one. He looked into the beauty of a pink and blue morning sky. The smell of evergreen and wild-flowers filled his nostrils. He plotted the quickest route to cover, then bolted away from the tunnel opening toward two pine trees with large lower branches that sagged nearly to the ground. He dove beneath the trees, wincing at the pain the motion brought his arm. He looked behind him for pursuers, but there were none. His heart was racing wildly.

Dalton tried to calm himself and regain his nerves as he considered his next move. He plotted another path farther away from the tunnel
opening and moved quickly and quietly to put as much distance as possible between himself and Lord Drox’s henchmen. With each step he took, he dared to wonder if he had truly succeeded.

After a few more minutes, Dalton’s thoughts turned toward getting his bearing within the region where he found himself. The terrain was a strange mix of trees, brush, grass, sand, and rock. He crawled to the top of a rocky knoll to gain a better vantage point and peered over the top of a boulder, looking back toward the tunnel entrance.

He discovered that the tunnel was a natural formation in the side of a tall granite wall. As he followed the wall with his eyes, he grew dismayed. The wall continued in both directions and joined again behind him some two hundred paces away, forming a box canyon with no apparent escape.

He searched the canyon walls for a place he could scale, but they were nearly vertical, a treacherous climb for someone with
two
good arms. Besides this, he realized that even if he could climb the walls, he would be in the open for a long time—easy prey for Drox and the Vinceros.

There must be another way out of the canyon
, he thought. He decided his only course of action was to follow the canyon walls until he found the way out. With the tunnel entrance to his right, Dalton began to carefully navigate his way along the base of the canyon wall. As he went, he came across the bones of what must have been a prior prisoner. Four inverted horseshoe-shaped stakes held the wrists and feet of the skeletal victim, whose bones the death ravens had presumably picked clean. Dalton knelt down near the skull. He was so appalled and disturbed that he found it difficult to continue.

How does one become so evil to be able to do such a thing?
he wondered. Righteous anger kindled within him, and he moved onward. As he went, he discovered more heinous sites of execution, and fear began to creep into his mind, robbing him of his courage.

Had these unfortunate victims tried the very thing he was now attempting? Was his demise inevitable?

By midafternoon, Dalton had made it three-fourths of the way around the canyon and was nearing the tunnel again. He was thirsty hungry, tired, and frustrated by his lack of success.

How close to the tunnel dare I go?
he asked himself.
Surely they have discovered my absence by now. Why aren’t they searching for me yet?

Dalton could not quell the apprehension that rose within him. His search was becoming desperate. He looked ahead and still saw no indication of an opening in the walls of the box canyon.

His next move required him to travel across an open area with very little cover, but he had no choice if he was to continue. He looked toward the tunnel opening, then slowly walked across the rocky floor of the canyon, ready to drop low at any moment.

Then he heard it. A low, wicked chortle flowed across the rocky floor and enveloped him like the wispy, dark ghosts of an evil apparition.

Dalton turned, then froze. He dared not close his eyes, but he wanted to. He thought that perhaps if he closed them long enough he would awaken from this nightmare.

But the nightmare had just begun…