The Hunt for Freedom

Chapter Thirty

Part Two

In The Dragon's Lair

The cliffs in this part of Ireland never fully dried. Be it the mist of ocean spray, or the endless rainfall, the caves were a beautiful view from far away but not too appealing at close range. They served their purpose for the Gruppa of weredragons now occupying them. The main cave was about a hundred feet above the pulsing ocean below, at high tide. A human would have to work extremely hard to find himself exploring here. Dragons entered in flight then shifted once on solid ground. The dense mist stood as cover, light rarely reflecting through to the actual entrance. Of all the temporary lair's they had inhabited, this current one seemed the most ideal. At least that is what Essam believed.

As he slowed his flight in preparation for landing he thought again of Katalea. The thought of her infused his every waking moment. He pushed past weredragons without a glance, rushing to get to his private chamber. Once inside, he flipped on the bank of monitors on his desk. Nothing like the set-up he had in his office, but his private chamber offered solitude. No one would dare disturb him down here, he was free to study Katalea for as long as it pleased him. His office was up near the entrance, above sea-level, with a conjured window to offer him natural light and a private entrance. His personal chamber was beneath a labyrinth of tunnels that few knew how to navigate if they dared try and find him.

Getting satellite images was no concern for this depth when your Gruppa prided itself on its technological advances. In their human form, most members were programmers, and often hackers. Nothing was impossible for them, even electricity could be conjured. Views from "Cat Island" appeared, but she wasn't visible in any of them. It was two hours ahead in Egypt, so it was possible that she was asleep. Essam had yet to get cameras placed within her home, and this drove him mad. The thought of watching her undress caused his pulse to race. Technology being so highly valued within his Gruppa, of course the alpha had access to the latest and greatest gadgets. How was it possible that he hadn't been able to slip one camera past her security. Cursing, he turned off the monitors and called for his maid.

A small form appeared in his doorway. She was dressed impeccably, as no uncleanliness would be tolerated. She had two long blond braids that hung over her shoulders, and the dress of a house servant. She stared, unfocused, at the floor ready to do his bidding. She curtsied, as she had been taught and kept her gaze low. She knew that once she met his eyes she would be lost in them.

Essam liked his maids young. Submissive and homesick little girls made the best workers with promises of being returned to home and family. This one had been taken from an English country village about a month ago. Most times a girl would be stolen, her DNA extracted and a clone would be made. She would be returned with no memory and no visible harm done. Sometimes, when a young girl showed promise she was kept as a breeder. This little one showed great promise. She didn't cry at night, and didn't need to be drugged. She was quite pliable with very little effort.

He ordered her to tidy his room, draw his bath, and bring him a breakfast of steak and eggs. After his night time excursions he was going to need the protein. She complied, rushing to and fro, trying to keep her gaze downcast. Some of the others were nice, but Essam was mean. A better word would be unstable, she reflected. His moods ranged from slightly irritated to murderous, and most stayed out of his way. His orders were followed as all knew of his penchant for surveillance.

The maid scurried from his room as soon as her tasks were done and ran to the kitchen, it was not good to let Essam get hungry. As she stood waiting for the chef to plate the food she saw movement from a corner room. That was where they kept the prisoners she knew, in fact, she had lived in that exact cell for a week when she first arrived. The figure she saw signaled for her to keep quiet. Most prisoners this close to the kitchen needed constant guards, and were kept heavily drugged. How was it possible that this one was awake and unguarded?

As quick as the chef loaded up a tray for Essam, the maid forgot the prisoner's face. She marched back to the den of her master, making sure to keep the tray upright. She knocked on his makeshift door, and was granted an audience. She rushed in and set his food on the desk. Scurrying out the door before he could bark another command, the little maid started down the dark tunnel.

Gilded torches lit the corridor, giving off little more than dismal light. They cast shadows that seemed alive, heaving like the horrible creatures she was now enslaved to. The little maid could not wait to get back to the main floor. Essam's chamber was the largest, but it was also the farthest from the entrance. No natural light or air could reach this far into the cave, yet the torches directly above her had gone out.

In the distance she heard heavy footsteps quickly approaching. Looking around for any means of escape, she ducked into a natural alcove barely big enough to squeeze into. As the footsteps got closer she pushed back as far as she could, terrified of being discovered. The more she squeezed back, the more room she could feel. Bending and twisting a little, she found herself pushed back at least a foot from the edge. She knew she couldn't be seen, hopefully she couldn't be scented.

The footsteps stopped pounding and silence echoed down the hall. Had whoever it was scented her? Her heart felt like it stopped as she held her breath and waited to be discovered. The uncontrollable trembling of her limbs and teeth sounded like fireworks exploding on holiday. As if the pungent smell of fear wasn't enough, she was adding a percussion symphony leading anyone to her precious whole in the wall. She scooted in further. Surprisingly, she was able to push back another six inches. She could feel cold air by her left foot, and straightened out her leg to fill the void.

"Get out here this instant!" Shouting filled the air. What sounded like an army of fists beat against the thick oak door. Who would dare talk to Alpha Essam like that? Was there a creature more savage than he? The little maid could barely control her bladder; she was so petrified.

With a snap the door sounded as if it was pulled off its hinges and thrown into the stone wall. "Who dares to approach me?" The voice was low and guttural, ready for an attack.

Menacing laughter was all the little maid heard as Essam's voice filled the air. "Father?"

She was confused, she had heard rumors that Essam was the son of the dragon god. Could the Lord of the North, King Hassan be here? These ideas were too much for her. The legends of King Hassan's reign of terror had been spoken of in dark places. Of course, little English children didn't really believe in dragons, but legends of fierce battles and cruel gods always made for good stories around the campfire. Now, as she hid, inches from certain death, the fear overtook her. She hit her head against the alcove wall as her eyes rolled back, she had passed out in fright.