Wisdom: The Dungeon

CHAPTER 6

An eerie stillness hung in the air, disturbed only by the rustle of feathers as the Black Wing hovered a few moments before landing. Silence pleased him. No more suspicious glances from the White Wings. No more whispers behind his back.

Corrigan glanced around his surroundings. The ground sank under his weight from excess moisture coming from the nearby swamp. Various ferns and underbrush peaked his interest toward the strange foliage coloration. Here, trees shrewdly slunk upwards to a gray-clouded sky with black-veined leaves. Even the sun retained its early morning warmth, cold and gray-white through the swirls of clouds. It was the same as he approached the charred black gates, marking the entrance to Jenario's home. A morning fog obscured the top portion, and they faded in and out of view as a cold wind picked up.

Corrigan allowed his wings to fade from view as he passed through the gates, following a well-trodden path. A stone overpass pointed upward in a curving V-shape. Under the pass, Corrigan paused to examine a few symbols etched into the stone. Over time erosion had masked the surface. If there had been any meaning to them, it was gone now.

Passing through, Corrigan found himself in a courtyard. Toward the center, a patch of flowers grew, but how unusual! He glanced at what used to be roses, now withered and dry like ashes lined in a row. The feeling of comfort faded to doubt.

I take it visitors must be seldom here.

A low thin mist settled around the vacant yard, and he peered up to take in the site of looming castle. An ordained archway framed the front door as he approached. Designs carved into the stone arched high over the threshold in an unpleasant frown. Two matching triangles slanted above the arch like two narrowing eyes. Corrigan felt a shiver run down his spine at the thought that the very castle may be watching.

He reached for the knocker, and the door opened inward on rusty hinges. Dust stirred from the movement, and a masterful but soft voice echoed from within.

“Come in, my friend,” it beckoned. “I've been waiting.”

Any other time Corrigan would have raised his wings in alarm and backed away. Yet not a feather flinched nor reappeared as he calmly entered. The door locked behind him.

“This way,” the voice coaxed.

Corrigan turned down a long corridor, following drifts of dust that lifted from the floor as if an invisible force moved them along. It rolled down the corridor until it came to a standstill in the center of a room. Here, four hallways arched away from the main corridor. Overhead, the same type of architecture that he had seen on the exterior of the building decorated the interior. The rafters in the ceiling were created out of long beams of extraordinary arches. The intersection was a cross of several arches, each one layered on top of another like mini highways. No doubt, they made the perfect connections for mice to get from place to place.

Candlelight provided the only light source within the dark hallways, for there were no windows. Even if there had been, thick clouds prevented any sunlight from shining through. Everything seemed to be outlined in black.

Corrigan noticed the dust swirl in a ring. When he approached, it rose higher, changing from ordinary grains of dirt to onyx flames. It circled until a form took shape from its wrath.

Jenario stepped from the circle. The dust dissembled into fragments once more, and when he walked a breeze from his folding robes swept them off into darkness.

“I hope your flight was pleasant, Corrigan.”

The Black Wing smirked. “I only wish I had a better greeting. I must tell you, though, I'm quite impressed.”

Pleased, the mage motioned to follow him down a hall.

“Seems you've already taken a liking to Sapphire.”

“Yes,” though Corrigan kept quiet about the dead roses. Everyone's entitled to their secrets, save but one. As the two walked together, he thought of his mother. This place would have suited her well.

Jenario's smile broadened.

“I understand you have questions for me.” He noticed the Black Wing's frown. “Feel free to ask me about the human realms, since it seems that's what you came for.”

“I'll ask when I'm ready.”

The mage nodded. “Suit yourself. You can ask me about Castle Mire later, then.”

“Castle Mire?” Corrigan raised a feathered eyebrow.

“A holding pen for slaves,” a gruff voice met their ears, and Corrigan ruffled his wings into view as a figure appeared at the end of the hallway.

“Corrigan, I would like to introduce you to a friend of mine,” Jenario said. “This is Nathaniel Woodston, my assistant huntsman.”

A room off to the right provided a warm fire that lit Nathaniel's backside, creating a halo of red-orange around his form. Corrigan eyed his belts equipped with daggers and vials of oddly colored liquids. The collar of his dark brown boots ascended over brown pants to the knee. A leather band around one leg held a patch of arrows. Already, there were mud stains on his shirt, and a faint scent of blood floated around his figure at all times. Huntsman or not, he was dressed to kill.

“A Black Wing?” Nathaniel scowled. “Are you daft! Bringing that thing here!”

Jenario's expression relaxed, seeming to enjoy his companion's anxiety.

“Calm yourself, Nathaniel. He's not here to hunt you. And don't be bothering to hunt him either, or I'll get angry.” He raised an eyebrow. “And you know what happens when I get angry, don't you?”

Nathaniel backed into the shadows of the room, mumbling about finding liquor.

Jenario smiled to himself and motioned for Corrigan to continue into the next room.

“Don't mind him,” he said, holding a door open for the harpy. “He likes to lapse into a drunken stupor at times, so I hide his liquor every so often to keep him alert when I might need him.”

“That was no huntsman.” Corrigan replied stiffly. “That was an assassin. I don't see how you could possibly trust someone like that.”

“I don't.” Jenario chuckled. “I keep my chamber doors magically locked. And since Nathaniel has no concept of how to break spells, I needn't worry with it.”

Corrigan grumbled. “Remind me to sleep from the rafters tonight.”

Jenario smiled in amusement.

“You needn't fear for your safety, my friend. I will see to it that you sleep well your first night here.”

Corrigan shrugged, his only concern being that he did not get locked in his room at night, for nighttime was when he hunted.

For the remainder of the evening, Jenario showed Corrigan his home. At mealtime he sat at a long table and ate with Jenario in a one of many spacious dining rooms. He never saw any servants, but whoever cooked preferred fixing a feast, from corn and cabbage, to roast pork and liver. Afterwards was followed by drinking aged wine in the lounge. Corrigan took tiny sips as he listened to Jenario and studied his surroundings. Off to one side was a bookcase. Gradually, Jenario shifted his gaze to the dusty shelves and sighed.

“Ah, yes. I see you've located my studies over the years. I have conducted many researches on various creatures, but my greatest discovery has yet to be seen—or perhaps you haven't noticed.”

He reached beneath the collar of his robe and pulled out a golden chain. At the end dangled a ruby stone. Corrigan leaned closer for a better look.

“Looks l ordinary at first glance,” Jenario continued. “But it's inside the stone that matters.”

Corrigan squinted, trying to peer beyond the surface reflections.

“Looks like a black shell,” Corrigan admitted. “What is it?”

Jenario winked at him and slowly removed the stone between the Black Wing's fingers. Leaning close, he whispered, “Inside is the most precious thing in all of No'va - the tip of a unicorn's horn!”

Corrigan stared.

“A unicorn's horn? How…?”

“Quite easy, actually,” Jenario leaned back in his chair. “A unicorn will only give favors if you give her one. What I asked wasn't much.”

“Or paid a large price!” Corrigan grimaced. “Don't tell me you asked for its horn.”

“In some respect, yes.”

“That's your current study? Obtaining a horn? I thought you were interested in studying live ones?”

Jenario's lips spread into a thin smile.

“Remember when you asked me how I knew the Lo-ans'rel name?”

Corrigan raised a feathered eyebrow.

“Don't tell me there's one here.”

Jenario nodded.

“You're a fool then!” Corrigan's wings ruffled into view, and he had to stand. “You can't possibly imagine the danger you've put yourself in!”

“That's why I'm an alchemist,” Jenario replied. “My potions will keep him quiet until I'm finished.”

“And then?”

Jenario shrugged. “He gets released. Why? Are you worried, Corrigan? Did you want to release him from my dungeon for me? I'd rather not face an angry Lo-ans'rel anyway.” He chuckled and rose from his seat to stretch. “It's late. Do what you like: hunt, fly. Don't bother meddling with my things, though. Just a fair warning.”

With a slight bow, Jenario slipped from the room. Shadows from the outside hallway enveloped him in darkness until there was nothing left but the faint echoes of his footsteps fading down one of the corridors.

Corrigan stretched his wings. He decided to keep them in view while exploring the many shelves stacked with books. Each one had been titled according to Jenario's research. One such book was called Eúgliactmaent. Another was called Harpy-demons.

Harpy-demons? Corrigan chuckled softly. He'd have to crawl through a swamp to reach one!

He continued scanning the shelves until one title in particular caught his attention: Lo-ans'rel. Curious to see what was written about them, he reached up and carefully pulled it out using the tips of his claws. Dust stirred through the air when he opened the cover to flip through its pages. Detailed drawings marked how shifting was done, accompanied with notes that pointed out specific areas of the body—the use of ears, eye color, even sounds they made. Corrigan skimmed over the notes, then turned the page.

Something clinked on the floor near his foot. Corrigan peered down, spying a metallic object in the glow of candlelight. A key, new from the looks of it, had been tucked between the pages of the book. A quick layout of the castle's lower level took the Black Wing down a series of long corridors to a heavily barred door.

Where there's a dungeon, there's Lo-ans'rel.

The key fit perfectly in the lock piece, and the whole bar snapped up with a loud click. Corrigan waited, listening for sounds of footsteps. When none came, he gave the door a good shove and watched it open on silent hinges. Darkness greeted within. Grabbing one of the nearby torches lighting the hallway, the Black Wing held it just inside the door. A long stairway wound down in the dark with no railings to hold should he fall.

Good thing I have wings, Corrigan chuckled to himself and began descending, one step at a time. It seems hours before he finally reached the bottom. The torch did little to light the massive chamber, allowing only a faint glimpse of objects too far back against the wall. The sound of water dripping echoed throughout the room as he turned slowly around, straining to see in the dark.

If only I had been part owl.

Close enough, a soft voice entered Corrigan's mind. Wings rose in warning, though he had no idea where the voice came from, nor how to block it.

“No games, Jenario!”

Far from it, the voice continued. Turn to your right.

Cautiously, Corrigan took a few steps forward until the light fell across a small cot. He drew the torch slowly down the length of the bed and over a still form lying on top. He recognized the lightweight clothing of Lo-ans'rel, and his heart beat faster. When he came to the middle, he paused. The slender hands were chained together. The ankles might have been too, but for the robe covering them there was no way to tell.

Light passed over the face, and Corrigan gasped. There was no mistaken those wolf-like ears.

So Jenario told true. He does have one.

Like he has you, the voice returned, but now Corrigan understood its location. It was coming from the Healer himself.

“Can you hear me?” he asked.

Just think your answers, was the reply. Golden eyes wearily peered up at the broad-winged harpy. Jenario must not know you're here.

Corrigan smiled. I think he wanted me to, he thought back. He held the key up in the light, but nearly dropped it when the sides suddenly split open and clinked on the floor. A tiny key was left between his fingers, which matched the locks on the shackles.

The Black Wing wasted no time and helped the Healer up. He was weak from the potions Jenario had given him, forcing Corrigan to support his frail body. Stairs proved too much, and in the end the Black Wing had to carry him. Once free of the dungeon, Corrigan returned the torch. He would need the cover of darkness to find his way out among the maze of hallways and rooms.

He turned down a hall and stopped. Footsteps scraped the floor, stumbling every other step. Corrigan had a mind who it was, and backed into shadow with his wings blending perfectly with the shadows as he wrapped them around his body. He waited, the Lo-ans'rel gently pressed against his chest feathers.

A figure stumbled into view. Corrigan peered between his wings with a grimace. He recognized Nathaniel and nearly laughed at his drunken state. He would prove no trouble to deal with, but the risk of alarming Jenario was too great. Nathaniel passed, mumbling as he went, and Corrigan slipped down the hallway without further incident.

An open window in one of the rooms offered a quiet getaway, though once in flight he cared little if he was quiet or not. Jenario expected him to hunt, and Corrigan would make sure to leave the bones of his nightly meal in clear view.

He set the Lo-ans'rel outside the castle grounds, wondering how the Healer would survive in his weakened state. Yet no sooner had he released him than vines began gathering from the ground. Those that touched the Healer turned brown and withered away while more took their places. It was not long before the Healer struggled to a standing position. He took a deep breath, coughing a few times. When he spoke, his voice was already stronger than before.

“Thank you, my friend.” He held out his hands, and the vines stopped circling. “I am indebted to you.”

Corrigan shrugged. “Your kind owe nothing to the likes of me.”

“My kind are like yours, whispering behind our backs because we are different, an outcast living among outcasts. They call me Windchester.”

Corrigan ruffled his wings.

“You know me, Healer? I don't recall ever seeing you in the shade of our trees.”

Windchester nodded.

“It was a while back, but yes. I was there. I only left because of humans.” He brushed a few strands of red hair from his face. “Seems like you left for the same reason.”

“I came for answers,” Corrigan replied. “And I'll get them, one at a time.” He spread his wings to take to the skies, seeing the vines had begun moving again. They rose around the figure in a twist of leaves and soil, engulfing the Healer's body.

“Suit yourself,” Windchester bowed his head. “But remember this. You've seen his power. You've seen what he's obtained. Be on guard, my friend, and farewell.”

Corrigan did not stay to watch the vines cover him completely, though he did glance down to see them retreating back into the earth, the Lo-ans'rel nowhere to be seen.

*****

It was some time in the morning before Nathaniel was found lying beside the dungeon door recovering from his drunken state. Yet at the slightest noise his dagger was drawn, only to have it halt under Jenario's throat.

“Kill me, and you'll regret it,” Jenario said calmly. Nathaniel glared at him a moment before slowly sheathing his weapon. He pulled himself to a sitting position. “And yes, you were correct. The door was opened last night.”

“Last night?” Nathaniel shook his head, trying to clear it from the liquor's effects.

“At least for now you're sober,” Jenario continued. “Get yourself cleaned up. I have a job for you.” The mage turned and began striding down the hall.

“Wonderful,” Nathaniel muttered, climbing to his feet. “And where's this harpy of yours? What was he doing last night?”

“He's been out hunting, like all Black Wings do,” Jenario sighed. Nathaniel caught up with him. “As for last night, I left him to return to my own chambers for the night.”

“You let him roam this place like a flea-bitten rat?” Nathaniel spat.

Jenario smiled.

“I think our new friend will come in…quite handy.”