Read Online The Dark Flight Down by Marcus Sedgwick - Free Book Online
Authors: Marcus Sedgwick
Tags: Fiction, Family & Relationships, Family, Horror, Juvenile Fiction, Magic, Fantasy & Magic, Horror & Ghost Stories, Magicians, Parents, Parenting, Royalty, Kings; queens; rulers; etc., Identity, Fatherhood, Fathers, Horror stories
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with Valerian: fear.
Valerian. Boy now knew who Maxim had reminded him of when he had first seen him in the ballroom. They shared the same strange mix of desperation and frightening power.
Maxim surveyed the scene before him. He wrung the sleeve of his robe, which had dipped into the water.
“The emperor may not think he needs the boy,” he said, “but I do. Leave him with me.”
The men shuffled away a step or two, heading back for the steps to the palace.
“Very good, sire,” said one.
Boy rolled over and managed to get to his knees. He looked up at Maxim.
“Oh,” Maxim said, as they went. “One more thing. Forget what happened here. If anyone asks, you threw the boy in the river as you were told. I’ll see to him from now.”
Boy, soaked from the waist down, dripped onto the stone flags and shivered, finding no comfort at all in Maxim’s words.
5
Boy’s body lay asleep one hundred and fifty feet below the shiny bright marble floor of the court, but his mind was elsewhere. In feverish dreaming he made his way along a stone corridor, crumbling and night black. He thought he would stop at the top of the flight of stone steps he had been expecting, but with alarm found that he had already begun to go down them, step by steep step.
Unable to stop, his feet moved by themselves, drawing him deeper down toward the thing waiting for him. For he knew without question that something lived at the foot of the dark flight of stairs, something that could take his life from him.
The stairs were narrow, their treads not even wide enough for him to get the whole of his foot on each one, and they were so sickeningly steep as to make his head reel.
He looked round and could no longer see the entrance at the top of the stairs. Panicking, he turned and missed his footing. He slipped forward, tipping headlong down the awful staircase, plummeting toward the thing.
He screamed.
He woke.
6
Boy had no idea how long he’d been in the cell.
After Maxim had saved him from being drowned in the under-river, he’d been dragged by his neck down unfathomable passages to a high-vaulted chamber somewhere deep beneath the palace. Around its walls were a series of cells, constructed from iron bars on three sides, and whose backs were the stone wall of the dungeon itself. The bars ran right up to the roof, so there was no way to climb over them.
Boy could see at least three cells on either side of him, and a similar row on the far side of the chamber, which was lit by a smoky oil lamp hanging on a vast chain that dangled from the center of the ceiling.
Maxim had swung the door of his cell shut and clanked a key in its lock.
“I’ll be back” was all he had said, and he left.
Boy had not been searched by any of his captors, and still had his lockpick in his pocket.
Having waited a good while after Maxim had left, Boy looked about him. As far as he could see in the half-light, there was no one in any of the other cells, but once or twice he wondered if he had heard something on the other side of the room.
He rummaged around in the lock and soon flicked the tumblers into their right positions. The lock turned and Boy once more paused and looked about. Still nothing. He tiptoed out of his cell, and moved to the center of the chamber, underneath the oil lamp.
In the darkness, Boy could not see all of the dungeon at once. He could just make out groups of cells against the walls, and in the space in the middle he saw a simple fireplace with a stand for a pot or cauldron to be hung above it. In the middle of the room there was also a table of sorts, and a chair, more like a wooden throne. Boy went closer. The table and chair reminded him for a moment of some of the bits of equipment Valerian had used in their stage act, but then he realized what they were. A chair with locks on the arms, a table with a ratchet at the end.
Boy decided not to wait any longer.
The floor of the dungeon sloped slightly up at one side, and in the wall
Valerian. Boy now knew who Maxim had reminded him of when he had first seen him in the ballroom. They shared the same strange mix of desperation and frightening power.
Maxim surveyed the scene before him. He wrung the sleeve of his robe, which had dipped into the water.
“The emperor may not think he needs the boy,” he said, “but I do. Leave him with me.”
The men shuffled away a step or two, heading back for the steps to the palace.
“Very good, sire,” said one.
Boy rolled over and managed to get to his knees. He looked up at Maxim.
“Oh,” Maxim said, as they went. “One more thing. Forget what happened here. If anyone asks, you threw the boy in the river as you were told. I’ll see to him from now.”
Boy, soaked from the waist down, dripped onto the stone flags and shivered, finding no comfort at all in Maxim’s words.
5
Boy’s body lay asleep one hundred and fifty feet below the shiny bright marble floor of the court, but his mind was elsewhere. In feverish dreaming he made his way along a stone corridor, crumbling and night black. He thought he would stop at the top of the flight of stone steps he had been expecting, but with alarm found that he had already begun to go down them, step by steep step.
Unable to stop, his feet moved by themselves, drawing him deeper down toward the thing waiting for him. For he knew without question that something lived at the foot of the dark flight of stairs, something that could take his life from him.
The stairs were narrow, their treads not even wide enough for him to get the whole of his foot on each one, and they were so sickeningly steep as to make his head reel.
He looked round and could no longer see the entrance at the top of the stairs. Panicking, he turned and missed his footing. He slipped forward, tipping headlong down the awful staircase, plummeting toward the thing.
He screamed.
He woke.
6
Boy had no idea how long he’d been in the cell.
After Maxim had saved him from being drowned in the under-river, he’d been dragged by his neck down unfathomable passages to a high-vaulted chamber somewhere deep beneath the palace. Around its walls were a series of cells, constructed from iron bars on three sides, and whose backs were the stone wall of the dungeon itself. The bars ran right up to the roof, so there was no way to climb over them.
Boy could see at least three cells on either side of him, and a similar row on the far side of the chamber, which was lit by a smoky oil lamp hanging on a vast chain that dangled from the center of the ceiling.
Maxim had swung the door of his cell shut and clanked a key in its lock.
“I’ll be back” was all he had said, and he left.
Boy had not been searched by any of his captors, and still had his lockpick in his pocket.
Having waited a good while after Maxim had left, Boy looked about him. As far as he could see in the half-light, there was no one in any of the other cells, but once or twice he wondered if he had heard something on the other side of the room.
He rummaged around in the lock and soon flicked the tumblers into their right positions. The lock turned and Boy once more paused and looked about. Still nothing. He tiptoed out of his cell, and moved to the center of the chamber, underneath the oil lamp.
In the darkness, Boy could not see all of the dungeon at once. He could just make out groups of cells against the walls, and in the space in the middle he saw a simple fireplace with a stand for a pot or cauldron to be hung above it. In the middle of the room there was also a table of sorts, and a chair, more like a wooden throne. Boy went closer. The table and chair reminded him for a moment of some of the bits of equipment Valerian had used in their stage act, but then he realized what they were. A chair with locks on the arms, a table with a ratchet at the end.
Boy decided not to wait any longer.
The floor of the dungeon sloped slightly up at one side, and in the wall
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