The Earth's End

Chapter Eight

AN: Hey, everyone! Sorry about the inactivity, I had an extreme case of writer's block ;-; Anyway, a close friend of mine has just inspired me to write again, so, ya know, I love her. Enjoy!

Eric

Far too used to murderers and thieves and raving lunatics being admitted to his dark, musty prison, Eric had been surprised when more pleasant, better-dressed people found themselves trapped behind iron bars. Day in and day out, they either brooded or quietly wept things about something clearly not being their fault and murmuring "Has the Queen finally gone mad?" And it seemed like every hour now that she herself created new rules for him to enforce, isolating and taunting the prisoners even more than they already were. Hostages were brought in chains straight from the Mockingbird Kingdom, stripped of the intricately carved golden armor it was famous for, eyes wide in fear as the guards beat them and shoved them into the foulest cells they could find-without Eric's consent.

Many a knight he had seen entering this place, but not one of them had been from his own kingdom.

Until now, that is.

Terence Baldric, his name was, knight of the state. He had been in loyal service to the Queen since seventeen, and was known throughout the kingdom as handsome and kind and humble and strong. From what he had seen, he certainly seemed very physically fit; Eric could practically see his muscles bulging through even thick layers of armor. They had become friends on the agreement that they would work together to escape this hell.

There was water not too far below this place; the complaints of prisoners would occasionally be heard when it seeped in from the floor. The entire palace had been built on a lake as blue as the Queen's eyes, and had never quite dried up.

Eric rubbed his gloved hand, feeling the strange emptiness within, and remembered.

***

So much could have been averted; he could have stayed for so much longer, had Eric Hilargi not discovered his father's books that day.

It was his eighth birthday, and all around him was celebration. His mother had baked a delicious lemon cake-his favorite-and all of his friends had gathered, smiles so wide they looked painted on their faces. The sun's fiery white light burned down on them, turning their skin raw and red, but not one cared.

After a lunch that was hardly more than cake and bread with honey, a black-haired, wild-eyed boy named Rick pointed to a dusty old room at the back of the house that even Eric himself had only visited one or two times. "Come on, everyone!" he shouted, and every last boy perked up and listened, for Rick was nine years old and the undisputed leader of their group. "Eric says we can explore his hidden room!"

"I-it's hardly hidden," the large-eyed boy had murmured, taking his best friend's hand, "and don't touch any of the books. My father will have you killed..."

"What if they were magic books? Could we touch them then?"

"No, I'm afraid he would kill you more painfully if you were to touch his magic books..."

Eric's words, however, merely thrust his friends into a greater wave of excitement and they raced for the old oak door, screaming about slaying dragons and becoming wizards.

As soon as the last friend had left to walk home, the little boy tiptoed into the room, and quickly took to sifting through dusty shelves and yellowed pages. Not ten minutes had passed when he found exactly what he was looking for, and gazed longingly for a moment at the white print and strange symbols on the cover.