The White Orb

Chapter 3: The Meeting

Pacing in his private bedroom, Caleb waited for the the time to come for the meeting. Earlier that day, King Clayton had agreed to meet with Caleb and tell him exactly where he was. The time was only a few minutes away, but the messenger had warned that His Majesty wanted him to be just on time, no early or late.
Caleb's doubts about where he was started when he was being led through the palace on the way to his new bedroom. Everything had seemed so old fashioned, so medieval. No country on Earth was still like this, even the lowest of Third World countries. He saw dungeons, knights with armor patrolling around - pretty much anything you would expect from a medieval castle. There were even coat-of-arms flags on every hallway, on every soldiers, portraying the blue wolf insignia.
This feeling had been greatly increased with the state of his bedroom. It was carpeted with velvet, its walls covered in paintings that looked completely un-modern. The window was stained glass, covering the room with warped, colorful rays of sunlight.
And the clothes! Caleb felt like a miniature peasant from England or France. There was a cream-colored undershirt that covered the entire top half of the body. Over that was a leather sort-of-jacket that was tied together with black rope tying it together halfway down his chest. On his legs was a tan-colored pair of pants, with high-end black boots covering up half of the pants - nearly up to the knees. It felt altogether medieval.
Everything was too completely out-of-place to be anywhere near home. The feeling of distance and loneliness was crushing. 
What were they doing back home? Had they noticed his disappearance? Had they called the police?
There were just so many questions.......
And he might be getting them answered. Of course, Caleb didn't trust King Clayton a bit, but it was better than nothing. Or was it?
A messenger arranged in colorful clothes appeared outside the room. "His Majesty will see you now!"
Caleb walked out of the room, feeling awkward. The messenger motioned for the pre-teen to follow him, and Caleb complied. As the messenger walked in front, Caleb noted the ridiculous, colorful clothes swaying with his walk. That's another addition to my list of non-modern experiences, he thought.
The courier hurried Caleb through a labyrinth of cobblestone hallways until he was completely sure that he would not ever be able to find his way out. The entire way, the wooden soles of the messenger and his feet clacked on the solid floor. The corridors seemed to Caleb like an anthill of rock, invincible and impervious. Like a tomb that would never come to the light of day. But fortunately, there were torches lined on the walls for light, so his last simile may be a bit of an exaggeration.
The corridors visibly widened,  and the courier slowed down as he turned a corner. Around the bend, Caleb found himself in front of two large wooden doors with two guards in full uniform posted on either side, frozen like statues. The blue wolf insignia on their fronts glimmered in the faint, pale torchlight. Over to the side, the courier snapped his fingers and the guards slowly opened the wooden doors. They slid open without a noise, the workmanship and balance perfect to eliminate all squeaks and squawks.
The large, open archway revealed a long hall that extended a good distance. The hall was much better lit that the outside hallway, so light flooded out and made a bright outline of the open doors on the hallway floor. Pillars of what might have been white limestone bordered the two long sides of the room. Down the center of the hall, a purple, silk rug outlined a path to a raised throne at the other end. And on the throne was King Clayton, looking regal and royal with his hunting clothes off and his kingly clothes back on. The blue wolf, which had been seen on all of the castle and its guard, shone brightly on him. His crown was silver with blue gems and jewels encrusted on. At the sight of the doors opening and Caleb waiting outside, the King stood up and smiled.
The pre-teen suddenly felt very awkward and rude. He was in the presence of a King! What was the proper etiquette and behavior? They didn't teach how to treat Kings in middle school, and Caleb was very nervous.
But the King seemed not to care, motioning for Caleb to come forward for their talk. From his side of the room he could see the clearly the smile on the King's face, but his eyes were too small. The room seemed open and inviting.
But just in case, Caleb squeezed the marble in his hand. A weak protection, but better than nothing.
The purple silk rug made no noise and the boy seemed to glide across the room. The room bright and white, completely unlike the dreary hallways of the maze-like castle.
But of course, Caleb was still on his guard. He may be twelve, but he wasn't a complete idiot. He had seen when he first came in the castle the painted smile on the King's face. He knew that His Majesty was able to look happy but have a fire boiling inside.  The King still wanted the marble, that's for sure.
It was with this thought that Caleb saw the knights rush out from behind the pillars.
The brilliant, sparkling towers of white had given refuge to over a dozen knights in full battle armor, which sprang the trap set for the pre-teen. From all directions, the large medieval tanks charged recklessly to get to the little boy in the middle of the room. And on his high-set throne, King Clayton watched it all with a mixture of nervousness and glee.
Caleb - scared out of his mind - had time only to try one thing. He raised the white marble desperately. The knights, seeing the Orb of Power raised, only ran faster to get to the boy in fear of being struck down.
But what they did not know is that the boy had no idea how to defend himself.
A knight bowled Caleb over from behind, slamming him face-first into the floor. The marble rolled out from his hands, which one of the knights thankfully picked up. The King rushed down his throne and wrenched the orb out of his knight's hands.
The knight got off Caleb, and the rest of them formed a lopsided ring around him. He pushed himself up, feeling hot, sticky liquid begin to leak out of his nose onto his face. But all he could think was, My only defense! Gone! I'm helpless!
And the King seemed to think so too. He walked over to the boy, chuckling, and kicked him viciously in the side. Caleb collapsed again.
"Did you really think you could keep it from me?" King Clayton bragged. "I saw you there. You couldn't use the Orb's power! Did you really think that trick would last for long?"
Caleb just lay on the floor, speechless with shock and despair. 
King Clayton grew tired after a second or two and turned to his knights. "Take him to the Dungeon!" he growled.
The bruised boy was dragged away, nose still bleeding, and taken to the depths of the stone fortress. The bars slammed shut, and darkness enveloped all.