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Was this his future? To be comfortable in his own waste? His own weakness?
No.
He surged forward, like a man under water, shoved upward toward the air and toward the light.
His eyes popped open, and he flew off the straw bed. His chest heaved with massive breaths, and his skin prickled with sweat. The cell was the same, but his senses were flooded with new information. The water plopped as it splattered on the stone, followed by a faint echo. The wind made the flames along the stairs flicker with crackling and popping. The scent of bones, his bed, and his own skin were repugnant and overwhelming. He set his feet down on the ground and realized he had no sores. His calves were muscular, not skeletal. His palms hadn’t blistered. Reaching for his face, he felt some stubble, but no beard. Time had restarted in earnest. He’d lived a lifetime in his nightmare.
Meshougi giggled behind him, and he turned to find her crouched by the head of his bed, her index finger still pointed toward his pillow, where his head must have rested. “Good morning, dearest prince. Are you ready?”
“Ready for what?”
“The fight of your life.”
Killian blinked, still reeling from everything he had experienced. “All of that was … it was a dream?”
“A suspended magicked state, yes. Zalina wanted you to submit to her without you wasting away into something ugly. She is vain and wanted your handsomeness for herself.” She shrugged. “All fairies know sleeping spells …”
“But it felt real. I felt pain. I—”
“Feelings are master liars when wounds are deep.”
Killian could only nod, too overwhelmed by the impossibility of what had just happened. He rubbed his face and stretched out his hands. “So shall we fight?”
Her toothless grin smothered her twinkling eyes. She stood and moved to the front of the cage. “Better get to it. Start failing. Fall down a few times. Just get back up.”
“You sound like Phin.”
“He sounds very wise.” She smiled. “But seriously, you’d better start. You broke the spell. She’s noticed you’re awake, and they’re coming. You are out of the eye, my prince. The storm is about to get a little gusty.”
Killian heard raised voices and a clatter of metal upstairs. “How am I supposed to fight without a sword?”
She shrugged. “Step one, my dear prince, is to open the door. Fighting is a problem for future Killian.”
Killian whirled to the door and jangled the lock that was actually locked in the real world. He searched the room, then dashed to the bone pile in the corner. He brushed aside the rotting fur, selecting a few likely contenders. He ran back to the door, his fingers slipping several times as he picked the lock. But with a glorious clank, the bolt shifted, and the door creaked open.
Stomping footsteps approached. He turned to help Meshougi escape from the adjacent cage, but she stood outside her door, her hands clasped before her.
“You got yourself free?”
She winked. “I was never locked in. I’ve been waiting for you. After the loss of your mother, I followed Zalina, waiting for your arrival—waiting to help. Crazy ladies are no threat to mastermind mistresses. I’ve been here for a very long time.” Her eyes brimmed with tears as a sudden wave of emotion flooded through them. “But now, let’s go.”
With a squawk and a screech, ten humanoid animals, corrupted and upright but smaller than the overly large fox, poured down the stairwell. Killian searched the room and grabbed a large femur bone. Dashing to the other side of the stair, he ripped off the tattered banner which unseated the metal rod at the top. Wielding the bone in his left hand and the rod in his right, he faced the horde of creatures who crouched in readiness.
“I believe in you, Killian.” Meshougi's voice whispered in his ear, though she was several feet away. “Fight now. Fight for truth. Return with honor.”
He nodded. The truth. The truth would be his sword through the lies, and through his enemies. His time was now.
With that thought, he sprinted forward and whipped his metal rod across the nearest raised sword.
Chapter 17
Escape
Killian
Thericochetoftheheavy rod vibrated through his bones as he swiped and shoved his way up the stairs, which curved to the right, giving the others every advantage, as Killian swung the bone with his left hand. Countless racoons, badgers, and bobcats, most rising only as high as his knees, screeched and scrambled over others to run back up the stairs. Killian lit the banner on a torch, and one animal’s shirt ignited as it raced past, catching several others aflame. Smoke and screeching echoed cacophonously, bringing several creatures to the ground as they covered their ears and noses from the assault.
Killian pressed forward, pausing when he heard harsh breathing above him. A strange creature glared, its eyes glittering red like rubies against the flickering flames, and it held a short sword in its elongated arms. It hissed, and a hundred thin teeth glinted. He had only seen pictures of this creature before—in the children’s book. The poem and stories were true.
