The Time Hunters by Ashmore Carl

Author:Ashmore, Carl [Ashmore, Carl]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2010-10-02T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

Dungeons and Dragoons

As they drew closer, Becky saw a stream of oxen drawn carts being steered through an archway, standing atop of which loomed a giant stone Bull’s head, its painted yellow eyes seemingly followed them as they approached the city walls. Once through the arch, Becky felt a knot form in her stomach. They were in a vast courtyard filled with hundreds of people, gathered for an outdoor market. She watched as an old woman in a ragged smock chased a runaway chicken which screeched loudly in a fruitless bid for freedom. Peering over at Helladius, she thought the chicken stood a better chance than they did.

Then something caught her eye: a face that didn’t fit. A slender man wearing a dark cloak with an oddly fair complexion was studying them intently. She glanced over to see if Uncle Percy had seen him, but he was too busy whistling to notice anything. By the time she looked back, the man had gone, consumed by the jostling crowd.

The group passed through a smaller archway into a quiet, tree-lined courtyard to the left of an enormous five-tiered building. Becky assumed this was the Palace, for it was, without question, the most imposing building within the city walls.

Helladius dismounted and turned to the guard on his right. ‘Eustathious, take this scum to the dungeons. I will meet with the King and enquire as to his wishes.’

Helladius stood before them, his legs wide apart as he drew a fat, wheezy breath that caused his stomach to ripple and rise above his belt. ‘Do not get accustomed to the comfort of your cell. I am hopeful to see you dead before nightfall.’ He disappeared into the building.

Suddenly, Becky found powerful hands curled round her waist as the guard heaved her and then Joe to the ground.

Eustathious leapt from his horse and yelled, ‘PRISONERS, FOLLOW ME!’ He marched into a smaller building at the far side of the courtyard.

They were guided through the dungeon entrance, down a series of steps, into a tunnel lit by flickering torches. The faint muffle of laughter could be heard from the market above.

Becky turned to see the Argonauts, their heads bowed, plod miserably down the steps. She heard Theseus mumbling about how he should have been in charge in the first place and if Hercules didn’t stop whining he would punch him in the face. As they entered the cells, Becky saw a short, grubby-looking man, a few strands of hair poking out of his predominantly bald head, his chest damp with grime and sweat. He was sitting on a stone slab, a plump finger inserted up his nose.

Even Eustathious appeared to think the gaoler was revolting and avoided eye contact when speaking to him. ‘Prisoners, Galdeus.’

The gaoler pulled his finger from his nostril and wiped it on his shoulder. Then he stood up, his back hunched and burped loudly.

‘Ooh, lovely f-fresh p-prisoners,’ Galdeus stammered, unhooking a set of wooden keys from his belt. ‘T-they look t-tasty. The Minotaur will f-feast w-well.

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