Phoenix Rising (Dragon Legacy) (17 page)

Rama sighed, and spread his hands. “Well, since you asked, how about an explanation?”

“What, you want me to explain the world to you? Why things happen? How it all works?” She laughed at him, but Rama shook his head.

“How about telling me who you are,” he said gently.

She looked at him, munching on bits of the seaweed salad, picking out the almonds and dried tomatoes. She liked those, and chewed on one while she answered. “Me? I'm nobody.” She chuckled. “And everybody. Anybody. Whoever I need to be,” she gestured at herself.

Fox felt something inside of her snap a little. Buy her? Is that how he saw her? A slave? How insulting! How dare he insinuate that he could buy her? She was breathing heavily, her nostrils flaring, her mouth clamped shut. Rama leaned forward, and spoke in what sounded like a genuine tone of sympathy.

“I wonder...could I ask you to be who you truly are? Not who someone else told you to be?”

Rama sat there looking at her, and she felt like something was breaking deep inside her. She didn't understand why she hated this man so much, but he was infuriating! It was all she could do to keep herself from leaping at him in a feral rage. Fox gripped the chopsticks tightly in her fists as she stared at him, and grunted.

Rama let out another sigh, and slowly stood up, slightly bowlegged, leaning on the doorframe for support. He looked at Fox and spoke softly, “I've spoken with Raya, and she doesn't trust you...but I see something good and holy inside you that wants to be understood...even though it struggles beneath an ocean of bitterness. I’m certain you have good reasons for feeling the way you do, but you should know that your inner light will always be present. Perhaps it would be wise to pay attention and see what it has to say.”

“Seriously, monkey boy?” Fox spat. “Tell it to someone who cares!” She threw the chopsticks at him, and then kicked the food and cider across the floor. “I'm fine in here by myself!”

“As you wish,” Rama said. Then, in silence, he cleaned up the mess and left, gently shutting the door behind him.

As she watched the door shut, Fox let out one final shouted curse of rage, hitting her shackles against the floor. She sat there in silence for a moment, and then, for the first time since she'd been a little girl, Fox was crying, and couldn't say why.

20

“I feel so much better,” Rok said as he took a deep breath. He smiled across the table at Stella and Mtumba. It was a big place, this monastery, but not as huge as the citadel had been, of course. He still didn't know how they'd made something that big. So many things to learn. So many surprises all around him. Sometimes he looked at people and wondered if what he saw was even real. Sometimes he wondered if they would all of a sudden turn into smoke, or change into something else. If maybe, all his conversations were imagined, somehow. That scared him.

“Hey, Rok,” Stella whispered.

“Yeah?”

“Don't you think,” she smiled, “it would be crazy fun to sneak down and take a peek at the prisoner?” She raised her eyebrows, and Rok couldn't decide how to respond. He blinked.

“It means I can change my mind,” she stated simply. “See, already doing it again...” she laughed, and jumped up from her chair to dart through the doorway. Rok and Mtumba looked at each other, not sure what had just happened. Then Stella peeked through the door and whispered. “Are you two coming, or are you gonna let a girl beat you down there?” Then she was gone again.

Rok and Mtumba looked at each other, and then both scrambled from their seats to race after their friend. She was fast though, and able to turn quick as a cat. Or so it seemed to the boys.

Stella kept ahead of them, always just around the corner, leading them through the halls toward the basement. They bumped into a monk Rok didn't recognize. She was carrying a bag of cider apples, and it almost tumbled from her arms before she caught her balance. The boys apologized before hurrying on their way, desperately trying to catch up to Stella. The monk sighed and shook his head, but continued on his way.

Stella led them through the main dining hall where the evening meal was being prepared, and through the kitchen, then down the stone spiral staircase to the cider cellar door. There she stood, looking up at it with an intense expression of mixed emotions. She turned to Rok and Mtumba.

“I heard someone say he's locked up in one of the storage rooms,” she whispered dramatically. “They said he's got chains around his wrists and ankles.”

The air was cooler down here away from the fires in the meeting and feasting halls, and looking down the hallway revealed that they were alone. No monks anywhere nearby, it seemed. Suddenly, Rok felt the chill, and crossed his arms. “He looked just like Captain Eli.” Rok said. “How's that possible?”

Stella raised an eyebrow and grinned. “Maybe he's a ghost. Or maybe he's a monster, here to kill us all in our sleep.”

“That's ridiculous,” Mtumba said, but looked nervously behind him down the empty hallway when they heard something. “What was that?” he asked.

“Don't be so afraid,” Stella said. She pushed the iron latch on the door and it swung open smoothly into the dimly lit room. The only light came from oil lanterns, and the light they cast made the whole room seem alive with strange spirits. Rok and Mtumba found it eerie, but Stella smiled and walked in with confidence, looking to her right and left for signs of life. Something that would indicate there was a prisoner being held here.

Rok and Mtumba ventured in and helped Stella search the room. Careful not to bump into any errant casks of the strong cider, they made their way through the cellar and into a far corner that opened into a short, dead-end hallway. In the strange hallway were small doors set back into the wall, shadowed dark and foreboding.

Stella suspected that this cellar was just the kind of dark, foreboding place where a monster would be perfectly happy to settle down and build itself a nice, little nest. It gave her a shiver just being down here. Maybe they should've stayed upstairs where it was safe, Stella considered as her eyes scoured the dim, decrepit space. One of the doors looked like it had been disturbed recently, and a closer inspection revealed that so had the dust on the floor in front of it.

“Psst,” she said, and the boys came to join her in front of the small doorway. Under her breath, Stella whispered, “I think this is it.”

They looked at it, and Mtumba shoved Rok. “Well, open it, hero,” he said.

Rok threw him a sharp glance before responding. “I was going to.”

Mtumba gave him a wide-eyed stare, and Stella watched expectantly. “If you don't do it,” she said, “then I will.” She stepped forward, but Rok held up his hand.

Stella and Mtumba stepped back, giving Rok some space, and he put his hand on the iron latch, cold and unyielding. It clearly chilled him a little, but he pressed down, and they were rewarded with a creak and a click as the latch unclasped from the doorjamb.

Rok pushed, and the little door swung into the room beyond. There was a slight waft of warm air, accompanied by the foul smell of waste.

“Ugh,” Stella groaned, and held her nose until the shock passed from her nostrils. She saw only darkness inside, but heard the rustle of the prisoner's chains, and a familiar man's voice made distant with anger.

“What do you want?” it croaked at them, and the teenagers were struck speechless. “Well?” it asked after a pause. “What is it? Information?”

There was laughter, and the voice continued. “Absolutely. I know things about this place that even Raya Silverbane doesn't. What's it worth to you?”

“We don't have anything to give you,” Rok said, and the voice barked in harsh laughter.

“Well, then, we don't have anything to talk about,” it smirked.

“Wait!” Stella said, and then turned to Rok and Mtumba, her face half hidden by dancing shadow. “What if we got him something to eat or drink?”

“Not interested,” the voice responded, then continued, “Unless, of course...”

“Unless what?” Rok asked.

“Unless you have some way to set me free,” it said. “For just a little while. These chains are chafing the skin from my bones.”

“Are you guys crazy? We can't do that!” Mtumba retorted, and then looked at Rok and Stella. “Well, we can't! He's dangerous! And besides, even if he didn't kill us when we let him out, Rama's wife probably would!”

He made a good point, Stella conceded, but shook it off. “Maybe we should see what he knows, first,” she suggested. “Then we can decide what to do.”

Mtumba grumbled about it, but Stella and Rok were in agreement. Rok nodded, and Stella spoke into the darkness, “What do you know that's such an amazing secret?”

The voice answered him quickly. “I know of a secret chamber beneath this monastery. I'm certain it contains a valuable treasure of some kind, and no one here seems to know anything about it.” He continued, “I only know it’s there because I received confidential information from someone very powerful. They call it the chamber of the guardian.” Rok looked at Stella and Mtumba, torn about what to do.

“How can we trust you?” Stella asked after a pause.

“Can you really afford not to?” he asked from deep in the shadows. “Just think about what you might find in there. Whatever it is, it's been there for ages, and I'm sure it's valuable.”

He was taunting them, but had the key to the mystery they were here to solve. Rok looked at Stella, and she nodded. Mtumba shook his head vigorously. “Don't do it. It's a dumb idea,” he said flatly, looking at both of them. He was begging them with his eyes not to say anything else, but Stella broke the silence.

“Alright,” she said, and Mtumba threw his hands into the air, “but you have to tell us where it is before we unlock your chains.”

Indeed, there on a wall peg hung the iron key on a ring of brass. Stella walked over and picked it up, and then Rok saw her head back toward the room, taking a deep breath. “If you try anything, I'll scream,” she said, and entered the darkness. Rok and Mtumba took deep breaths and held them in. They were surprised that Stella had just walked right in, but there weren’t any sounds of a struggle, or anything else other than the ratcheted clicks of iron hasps being unlocked.

Stella backed out of the room, and a haggard Captain Eli appeared in the dim light, blinking. He wore a smile on his face, but it didn't look right, somehow. Rok almost swore he saw a woman in the face too, but he blinked and it was gone. Strange. The man stretched with a satisfied grunt before turning his gaze to them.

“Luckily for you kids, I keep my word. Heads-up for the future, though; people don't always do that.” Suddenly Rok was faced with how real the danger was. He saw Mtumba stiffen from out of the corner of his eye, but the strange man put his hands on his hips, and pointed toward the stone wall at the end of the hallway.

“It's through there,” he said, and turned to leave.

“What?” Stella squawked. “That's a wall!”

The prisoner looked at them, then at the cellar's exit, then back at them. He sighed and shook his head. “I'll show you,” he said grudgingly, “but only on one condition.”

“I like you, kid,” the man said after a pause, then chuckled and cracked a smile. “You've got spirit.” He nodded seriously. “Alright, no funny business while we're down there,” he said with an extended hand, and they shook on it.

“I'm holding you to it,” Mtumba said, and then they all walked toward the wall.

The prisoner looked at it, and ran his hands over the smooth surface, muttering, “If only they'd had something like this in that cell, I'd have been out of there a long time ago.” Then his hand passed over a discolored spot that clicked, and the wall shifted inwards slightly, stirring up a low cloud of dust. Mtumba coughed, and so did Stella.

The prisoner put his hands against the stone, and pushed, grunting. He looked at them and said through gritted teeth, “This'll move faster if you help me.”

They got the hint and all joined in, pushing the heavy stone wall on its hidden hinge, swinging it open, revealing a dark pathway. The walls were not man-made, and Rok felt fear and excitement battling within him.

The prisoner looked at them oddly, and shook his head before picking up an oil lantern and walking inside. The youths also each picked one up, and followed him across the threshold.

Quinn's eyes fluttered open, revealing a downward-facing view of a small dark room stuffed with cables and humming machinery. He was strapped into a cushioned support brace, leaning forward in a prone position that made him feel exposed and vulnerable. He strained at his bonds, but they held him tight. He grunted with frustration, but then heard footsteps. He was angry, but closed his eyes to feign sleep, and heard someone enter the room.