It took all of a half second for me to realize that this had gone terribly wrong. I turned to run back out, but two Bedoowan knights jumped in front of me, blocking the door. I was trapped. Slowly I turned back to see Alder standing there holding the walkie-talkie. A knight had a spear to his throat. Alder looked as if he were about to cry.
“I…I am sorry, Pendragon,” he cried. “They were going to kill her.”
Two other knights were holding Loor. One had her arms, the other held a knife to her throat.
“You should have let them,” she spat out in defiance. There were a few other people in the room too. Seeing them is why I knew all was lost. One of them was Saint Dane. Or Mallos, as he calls himself here. He stood with his arms folded and a smug smile on his face. But it was the final person in the room who gave me the biggest surprise of all. This person was seated on a large, ornate throne that was decorated with cut pieces of glaze. I didn’t need to be told who it was. This was the heir to the throne of the Bedoowan. This was the monarch who had their father killed so they could begin their tyrannical rule over the Milago. This was the person who ordered the deaths of Milago as easily as ordering more glaze. This was Kagan’s throne room, and seated on the throne was Kagan.
The thing that surprised me though, is that Kagan was a woman.
“Hello, Pendragon,” said Saint Dane. “Lovely day for an execution, don’t you think?”
The one person missing from the room was Uncle Press.
Journal #3 (continued)
Denduron
“This is the Milago boy I have heard so much about?” said Kagan with a sneer. “His odor offends me.”
Gee, thanks, lady. Nice to meet you, too. I have to describe to you guys what Kagan looked like because she was a real piece of work. First off, she was fat. Not just baby fat chubby, we’re talking gordo. I’ll bet she kept that kitchen downstairs pretty busy. She wore a flowing yellow toga dress that didn’t do much to hide her rolls of chub. Luckily the dress went to the floor and had long sleeves because I didn’t think her arms and legs would be a pretty sight. The dress didn’t hide her feet, though. She wore these sandals that her toes poked out of like stuffed sausages. Not a pleasant picture. She also had a double chin of fat that hung down over the neck of her dress. Ick.
I have no idea how old she was. She could have been eighteen or thirty or any age in between. The fat stretched her skin so much that it gave her a smooth, baby look. Of course, she wasn’t a baby; she was a monstrous, evil queen with fat toes. Everything about her was big. Her hands, her feet, her head, even her eyes. Oddly enough, with all of the size she had going on, her mouth was tiny. Such a little hole didn’t belong on this immense, doughy face. She had long hair too. But it wasn’t shiny and combed; it hung down over her shoulders and looked like it hadn’t been washed in a few months. Nice, huh? She was like some kind of bizarro cartoon sumo wrestler woman.
She had multiple drapes of silver necklaces, bracelets that traveled halfway up her arms, and rings on every finger. She also had a tiara perched on top of her head that looked kind of stupid because it was too small. On any normal head it would look fine, but her big, old, round, greasy-haired dome made it look like a doll crown on a giant. Of course, all of the silver jewelry was adorned with glaze. The precious blue stones were cut in every shape and size imaginable. It must have taken the Milago miners a week to dig up this much glaze. Her throne was decorated with glaze as well. There were baseball-sized stones mounted all over the golden chair.
As I took all of this in, I kept thinking about the Transfer ceremony where that miner died because they hadn’t brought up enough glaze. I can honestly say that I have never hated anyone in my life. But this lady was in line to be the first.
“Show me the toy,” she commanded. Her voice was high and squeaky, like fingernails on a blackboard.
The knight who was holding Alder grabbed his walkie-talkie and handed it to Kagan with a subservient bow. She took it and inspected it from all angles.
“What sort of magic is this?” she asked.
I couldn’t resist. I took my walkie, hit the send button and said, “Put it down!”
Bad move. Kagan let out a yelp and dropped the walkie like it was alive. It hit the floor with a clatter and a knight immediately crushed it with his boot like an annoying bug. I stood there holding the second walkie (which was now totally useless) wishing I hadn’t pulled that stunt. Kagan hoisted herself up out of her throne and waddled toward me, her jewelry jangling as she walked. She stared down at me with those big, round black eyes, raised a meaty hand, then hauled off and slapped me across the face.
Yeow. That stung. But I wouldn’t give her the benefit of letting her know how much, so I clenched my teeth and forced back my tears. I looked to Kagan and oddly enough, it seemed as if she were holding back tears too. She looked at her hand, then looked at me with genuine surprise and exclaimed, “You hurt my hand!”
Say what? Whose fault was that? I guess it was mine, because instantly two knights ran up to me and jammed the points of their spears in my neck.
“Whoa, whoa!” I yelled. “Sorry. It won’t happen again!” What I wanted to say was: “Gee, sorry I hit your hand with my face, chubby.” But I figured it wouldn’t be a good idea to be a wise ass. Especially when I had two spears at my throat.
“Let him go,” commanded Mallos/Saint Dane.
The knights pulled their spears away, but stayed on either side of me. Kagan fell back into her throne, sobbing like a pouting baby. Mallos comforted her by saying, “Shall I call the surgeon, Your Majesty?”
Surgeon? You gotta be kidding me.
“No,” sniffled Kagan. “I will be brave.”
Give me a break. This lady was a piece of work all right.
“He will be punished.” Mallos added, “Along with his uncle.”
This was bad. We came to rescue Uncle Press, and now it looked as if I was going to join him in whatever horrible fate they had planned. Some rescue, huh? Mallos then left Kagan and walked to me.
“Press will be so happy to see you,” he said to me with an oily smile.
“Where is he?” I asked, trying to sound like I wasn’t totally petrified.
Mallos answered me with a laugh. He turned to Kagan saying, “This boy is a spy like his uncle, like this girl”-he walked to Alder and stared him square in the eye-“and like this traitor Bedoowan.” Mallos leaned close to Alder until their noses nearly touched. Alder was scared, but tried not to flinch. Mallos said, “I always knew you were a traitor, but I needed you to deliver Pendragon.”
Alder dropped his head in shame and embarrassment.
Loor struggled in anger to pull away from the two knights who were holding her, but as strong as she was, these huge knights held her tight. To stop her from struggling, one of the knights gave a quick jab with the knife he was holding to her throat. My stomach turned when I saw a trickle of blood flowing down her neck. But Loor wouldn’t flinch. She wouldn’t let the guy know he had hurt her. I wasn’t surprised.
Mallos then walked to the throne saying, “They are all conspiring to incite the Milago into a revolt against us, your majesty. And for that they should be put to death.”
Things were falling apart, fast. “What do you mean ‘us’?” I shouted at Mallos. Then to Kagan I said, “He’s not a Bedoowan! Ask him where he comes from!”
Kagan looked at Mallos. Was there a hint of doubt in her mind? If I could expose Mallos as being a Traveler from a different territory, maybe Kagan wouldn’t buy everything he had to say. It was a long shot, but the only thing I could think of.
“It’s true and I can prove it. Who thought of the trick to get me here? It must have been Mallos. Nobody else knows how those walkie-talkies work, right? A Bedoowan wouldn’t know how to use that magic.”