Curse of the Undead Dragon King (Skeleton Key) (10 page)

CASTEL WAS ADAMANT
that I do nothing that would cause people to ask more questions in an already delicate situation. And so I sit and wait, staring through the sheer curtains over the window and hoping that night comes far sooner that it feels like it is.

The maids constantly bring me food, meat mostly, to keep my stomach from growling. But it isn’t enough. The kitchen is only stocked so much, and Belen can just look the other way for so long before she’ll begin to wonder what’s going on. And while she is a staff member and far less likely to question it, her finding out anything beyond what she already knows leaves room for others to find out as well.

The sun is finally beginning to set when I feel the unwelcome transformation starting to happen. When I shift from dragon to human of my own power, it’s painless and breathtaking. But when magic has been used to force the change upon me, it’s painful and mind-boggling.

It only takes a breath’s length to find myself standing in the pile of broken wood and straw strewn across the room. I grab my robe from the armoire and slip it over my nightgown before sticking my head out into the corridor, making sure the path is clear before leaving my room. I go in search of Castel.

“Madam! You’ve changed!” Shyla exclaims, coming toward me from one of the crossing halls.

“Yes, well, I don’t know how or why. It just happened. I need to speak with Castel. Do you know where I might find him?”

“I do, my lady. But he has made it clear that you are to stay in your room until nightfall.” She curtsies.

“Yes, but that was while I was . . . not my human self. I believe he wouldn’t mind now. So tell me where he is” I ask kindly.

“I understand your position, but he was very clear with his wording and his threats should anyone else find out what’s been going on. I can’t risk it. Please return to your chambers, and I will retrieve him for you,” she pleads, trying to sound calm, but her voice breaks.

“Very well.” I nod and turn back.

Someone clears their throat in the corner. “Finding out what’s going on? Your future Majesty, please do tell me—what has been going on?” Lord Waylon slithers out from behind the shadows where he lurked.

“I believe it is none of your concern, Lord Waylon. As I am not feeling well, I am returning to my chambers now.” I pull my robes tighter around me and stomp back to my room. How dare he ask me about something he had no right overhearing?

I make it to the doorway of my room and stare. The room is an absolute mess. I can’t imagine how we’re going to fix it. Even if the people know nothing of the curse, if they believe I’ve been lying in bed sick all day, how could we remove the broken pieces of my bed and replace it without anyone noticing?

“Zanta?” Castel calls, distressed. Nearly sprinting toward me, he’s walking so fast.

“I’ve changed back.” I look up at him timidly, feeling awkward and not even understanding why.

“I assume you still can’t change at will?” He runs a hand through his hair.

“No. Do you think I should go after Aurelio? He could be in far more trouble than any of us expected, and we have no way of finding out from here.” I bite my lip, holding back my fear and anger.

“I don’t know.” Castel sits on one of the only chairs not broken. He sighs and rests his head in his hands, elbows on his knees. “How can I know, Zanta? I promised his father I would watch out for Aurelio. I swore I would protect him, and I would help him rule a fair and just land. And now we don’t even know if he’s alive. The curse is switching which form you’re in, so we can only assume the same is happening to him. But why? Is he being tortured? Is he trapped?” Castel looks up at me. “How can I know if we need to go after him? How can I risk leaving the kingdom without a ruler, unsure whether the king will ever return? And how can I ask you to go when I swore to Aurelio that I would take care of you?” He has tears in his eyes as he asks these questions.

I feel my emotions bubbling, the tears welling up, and the pain becoming unbearable as I think of all the possibilities. But I force myself to clench my jaw, controlling the quiver in my lips. I kneel before Castel and rest my hand on his forearm. He looks into my eyes, questioning me.

“I don’t know the answer to any of your questions. But what I do know is that I can’t sit here and watch over a kingdom alone. I can’t wait by idly, hoping he makes it home again. I understand that you can’t leave Dracameveo. It is your place to watch over the kingdom while the king is away, but I’m not its ruler. Not yet. I will go and find him, and I will bring him home again.”

Tears roll freely down both our cheeks. Castel takes my hand in his and squeezes it. “I believe in you, and I trust you fully, but I can’t lose you too. If Aurelio doesn’t make it, he will haunt me for the rest of my days. Besides, as it is, the people are growing restless. They want to see their king. And now their future queen has fallen ill? No, they need to know you’re well. Tomorrow, you will greet the people, and you will tell them whatever it takes to appease them. To calm them. We will find another way, my dear. If nothing else, let’s give the king more time. And if he doesn’t return soon, we will send an entire army out searching for him. But right now, we have to be strong. We have to believe he can do this because if the kingdom finds out their king isn’t sick, that he isn’t here at all, but in some faraway land who knows where, doing who knows what, there will be chaos. Mass amounts of panic and worry. And that is something we must avoid no matter what.”

“How can I rule his kingdom when I’m not even sure he’ll come back to it?” It’s now my turn to be weak, to ask questions, to fear the worst.

“He loves you, Zanta. He loves you more than anything. If nothing else, believe in that because he will do anything and everything to get back to you.” He cups my cheek in the palm of his hand and pulls me closer, kissing my temple as a father might kiss his daughter.

“Thank you.” I sniffle and wipe my face on my sleeve, making a mental note to have it washed right away. “There is another matter we need to discuss.”

“Oh?” Castel becomes attentive again.

“Lord Waylon was lurking outside my chambers. He overheard some of what my maids said, and now he is snooping into what’s been going on. Have you told any of the council members about my situation?”

“No, but I feel perhaps it would be wise to hold a meeting and inform them. They will want to know this. Furthermore, we can use it to dispel any thoughts Waylon is having about how he can use this to his advantage. The little weasel has no right being a part of the king’s council, but until Aurelio returns and removes him, we must deal with him on our own.”

“Let’s hold a meeting tonight. Perhaps the other members will have an idea of what to do now. Have we thought to ask any of them if they know what Ignacio went through that could help Aurelio now?”

“No, I don’t think we have. But I agree—we need to meet now. Get dressed and come to the council room. I will gather the others.” Castel gets up and leaves right away. I close the door and slip into a simple gown that I can easily do up on my own.

Once I’ve pinned my hair back, I put on a pair of slippers and find my way to the meeting room. The others are already there, waiting inside for me. And only one open seat—the king’s. I sit down, forbidding myself to feel squeamish about it. I was put in charge, I am ruling now, and while I am not happy about it and the circumstances around it, I will do it proudly. I will make Aurelio proud.

“An odd thing happened this morning. I awoke as a dragon, unable to shift back into my human form. Only moments ago did I turn back. This is why the people were told that I, too, was ill. We cannot let them know the truth because Castel and I fear what kind of reaction it will bring. Aurelio is going to return, and we just have to keep the kingdom running until then. Now, if any of you know a single thing about King Ignacio’s adventures right after being made king, speak now. If Aurelio needs help, we must send it. But how can we know?”

I wait for a response, but everyone stares, stunned looks on their faces.

“Speak!” I hit the table, my anger overflowing. I’m tired and alone and hating every second that Aurelio is gone.

Everyone jumps a little. “I was here when it happened, but not as a council member,” Lady Kiamora says. “All I know is the king left for one week. He returned and acted as if nothing had happened. Castel ruled in his place. From what I can recall, it’s almost as if the people didn’t even know their king was gone.”

“So what’s different this time? Why are they noticing? Why are so many people coming to the castle and begging to see the king?” I ask, looking at each face as I wait for someone to respond.

“It does seem unusual, how many people have begun questioning why their king is away. Then again, claiming that Aurelio is ill may have been a mistake. Dragons do not get sick like ordinary humans. Perhaps another excuse should have been used,” Lord Oran says.

“That still doesn’t answer my question. What’s different this time?”

“You,” Lady Estella whispers. “You’re different. Ignacio was not engaged when the curse affected him. Aurelio announced his engagement to you, traveled throughout the kingdoms with you to celebrate, returned with you, and woke up the next morning cursed. You are the difference between this king and the last.”

THE PULL OF
my eyelids, begging to close, the tiredness calling, demanding I sleep, is strong, so much that I get up and walk in circles just to keep moving. I don’t allow myself a moment of rest despite being cramped into such a small space. I can’t sleep. I can’t close my eyes for more than a millisecond.

I won’t give up on Zanta. I won’t let her down like this. Not when I can keep fighting. So I walk back and forth, in circles, crisscross. Whatever it takes.

I ignore the dizzy feeling beginning to make my eyes water and the floor tilt. I ignore the burn in my muscles, begging for relief. I’ve gone in so many circles that the wall comes at me sideways until I hit it and realize it is I who is sideways.

I blink, trying to shake the feeling as I get back up and walk again. I walk wall to wall to keep from becoming dizzy again, but as I approach the wall, I notice something. An odd marking, something that seems familiar, something that doesn’t belong.

I run my talon across it, ignoring the terrible sound it makes. But trying to trace it, to figure out what it could mean, I look closer and realize it’s writing. I inhale sharply and take a step back, looking more clearly at the walls as a whole picture. Where I thought there was just an odd pattern to them, truthfully, there is writing in what was once smooth, much like the lower parts of the pit.

I go back to the first word and place my talon against it once more. It’s almost a perfect fit. “Oh,” I breathe aloud. A dragon carved this. More than that, my father could have carved it himself.

I walk around the room, scouring the walls for a beginning to the writing in hopes of reading it in order, but nothing becomes apparent, so I just begin.

Some of it is hard to read because the carving isn’t very deep, and the letters are hard to make out. Especially when parts seem as though he tried to scratch them out. The other problem is that clearly, Father wrote in a hurry because entire words are missing.

The first sentence mentions a curse.
Undead dragon king, Jarlan. Ruler trapped.
Is Jarlan trapped just as I am?

I continue reading.
Wizard’s doing. All revenge.
I step back and allow my eyes a moment of rest from looking at the gibberish. Once I’ve had a moment to think on it, I go back.
Game set by satyr.
A gasp escapes me. Khende?
Don’t trust him.
Clearly, parts were never written because Father only had so much time. But how can I piece it together without knowing the beginning?

I start again, searching for the most obvious place where he would start writing. The walls are even in length and height. Father was a larger dragon than even I. He most likely would have started higher and worked his way across one wall at a time.

I start in the upper left corners, searching for the deepest markings because he would’ve had more strength, but as he carved, he would wear out.

I’ve been thrown in this box entirely alone by the undead dragon king, Jarlan. And while it may seem he is evil, I fear there is more to it. He has treated the satyr who offered to help me with an odd distance, as if wishing the creature would just leave. Not something a great dragon king would do unless it is the satyr that has already harmed him.

But alas, my concerns remain with escaping. Dragon fire, my weight flying into the walls—nothing seems to break them. With no door and no window, it seems escape is not the way out.

One wall read. On to the next one.

Khende joined me only for a while today. How curious that he can come and go, yet I am trapped within. I fear he is not what he seems.

I hope to ask Jarlan, but wherever he is, Khende seems to be as well. Even when he warned me that time was running out, Khende was eager to hear every word he spoke.

Home may be this cold, desolate place now. Escape seems impossible unless you’re a satyr.

The second wall ends there, with something scratched off at the end. But there’s no making it out, so either Father didn’t mean to write it, he didn’t want it seen by those who imprisoned him, or his captors didn’t want it seen.

But if Khende is the wizard, wouldn’t he erase all of this writing? Surely he wouldn’t allow me to find it here, on only the second of three tasks.

I shake my head and continue to the third wall. But as I look closer, I realize there is nothing here. The wall has no writings scratched across it—it is completely blank, which doesn’t make a bit of sense considering how much is cramped onto the other walls.

I lean closer, looking for any kind of marker as to why there wouldn’t be writing here. I run my talon over the entire thing, wondering if this wall is the answer. How did my father escape? It isn’t written, and thus that means perhaps he could not write it. What if he attempted to carve on this wall and failed?

I know he escaped. I begin doing what I imagine he would’ve done. He’s trying to tell me that Khende is not to be trusted, that Jarlan is not completely evil, and that there is something special about this particular wall.

I touch the end of my talon to it and begin to carve my name, but it leaves no mark. The wall remains bare. I inhale sharply as it appears the wall begins to bleed, though there is no visible mark aside from that.

The dark liquid slides down to the floor, but rather than darkening it, it simply disappears. I step farther down the wall and do it again, attempting to carve my name. The dark liquid bleeds out, sliding to the floor before disappear entirely.

I take a step back and look at the entire wall. It looks just like the other three. The same color, texture, size, and all. Or does it? I take a closer look at the seams near the ceiling and then back to the floor.

It isn’t the same. Where the wall meets the ceiling, it’s curved, and at the floor, there appears to be the tiniest sliver of room, where the wall touches nothing. I poke at it, resting my talons in the spot, and pull up. It creaks and groans and finally breaks free, swinging upward like a horizontal door.

And just outside, in the darkness where my eyes can find no light except directly before me, King Jarlan stands, looking quite frightened. He looks to either side of him, searching the darkness for whatever it is that haunts him, and yet he does not speak.

“Jarlan,” I whisper. “You didn’t set this curse, did you? You’re a long-forgotten king who played the games and lost. This is your curse just as much it is mine, isn’t it?” I ask, no longer fearing him or fearing what he could do, but fearing
for
him. Feeling his pain as I realize that he suffered what I am afraid to suffer.

He nods, still looking frightened, turning his head to either side.

“Is the satyr the one who set this curse upon the kings of Dracameveo?” I look around as I ask, checking to make sure it’s just the two of us.

“It is.” The way in which he speaks, the constant turning of his head, worries me greatly. Where is Khende?

“We’ve got to get out of here. Show me the way, help me break the curse, and we’ll both go home,” I offer, knowing I cannot do this on my own.

Maniacal laughing interrupts Jarlan’s reply. Slow clapping echoes throughout the room, though I fear now that everything is hidden in shadows for good reason.

“My dear Aurelio, I daresay you figured out how to escape the room in far less time than any king previously. A feat I did not think possible, considering your father held that record before you, and it took him six days. I am so very proud of you. For a moment, as you lay and cried to yourself, I feared you were giving up, and that just takes the fun out of the curse entirely. But no, you came through—you succeeded at the second task. And here I find myself wondering, should I free him now? Or should I let the curse play out as it has for hundreds before you? But nay, I fear you will simply have to go on. However, unlike any before you, you’ll have help because Jarlan here has decided he no longer wishes to be king. Not that I can blame him. But the city needs its ruler, and that means it’s down to you two. Only one will survive because even if you both succeed at the next challenge, you won’t leave here uncursed.” Though I cannot see him, Khende seems in high spirits as he announces that Jarlan and I must fight each other if the next task doesn’t kill us.

With a loud clap, sconces all around us are lit, revealing the large chamber we’re in. A cave of sorts, dark and dreary. No life to be seen. Only the rocks, causing a rough terrain all around. The ceiling is covered in stalactites with sharp points, hanging down dangerously.

I can’t help the gulp that echoes throughout the entire cavern. Certainly this will be no easy task, whatever it is.

A rumbling causes the stalactites to vibrate, causing an odd kind of tinkling sound, dust falling from the ceiling.

Jarlan’s eyes widen as he looks at whatever it is behind me. I slowly turn and look up at the beast that shakes himself awake, seemingly unfocused like he hasn’t been disturbed in a long time. Probably in a hundred and fifty years, I think grimly, realizing that’s how long it’s been since my father was here.

The beast has grayish wart-ridden skin wherever there aren’t scales. He seems to be part troll, part dragon. His wings span wider than Jarlan’s and mine combined. He has the head of a phoenix, a bright, fiery orange in contrast to the rest of himself. I realize that the wall that trapped me within truly was bleeding because it was his foot. The phoenix, of course. Incredibly fast healing abilities.

The chimera takes a step forward, advancing toward us. His tail whips out, and Jarlan wraps his wings around my eyes hurriedly. He whispers, “Don’t look at the tail, for it is a basilisk, and one look into its eyes will kill you.”

“Thank you.” I turn, and he puts his wings down.

“I’ve seen this monster destroy many dragons, Aurelio. Even with two of us, there’s hardly an advantage. The phoenix’s tears are healing, but because the bird is part of the beast, it simply heals on its own. And with the body of a dragon and troll, its skin is unbreakable, and its scales are tightly woven. It is twice as large as either of us. What chance do we have of defeating such a monster?”

“There are two of us, Jarlan,” I say, trying to watch the chimera without catching any glimpse of its tail. “We know its secrets. We are smaller, faster, and more agile. And most importantly, we have a reason to live. So we’re going to fight, and we’re going to get out of here. Do you understand? Are you willing to do this with me?” I look into his eyes, waiting for an answer.

He looks back up at the monster now towering over us. “Doesn’t look like I have much of a choice.”