He was standing in his childhood bedroom; the room he’d grown up in, back before he was known as Ivan, back when he was William, Prince of Southland and heir to the kingdom of humankind. It was exactly as he remembered it the day he’d left, the day when he and Hannah set out on a journey and never returned. The memories of his time in this room came flooding back, but he didn’t have the time to linger. He saw that he was alone in the room, his captors likely thinking he was still unconscious. This would be his opportunity to escape. Looking to the door, the only entrance or exit from the room apart from the widow, he began limping toward it.
He cracked it open and carefully glanced into the hallway. Wall-mounted torches lit the castle’s stone interior hallway. Opening the door farther, Ivan realized that no one stood watch, he could attempt an escape.
Grasping the wooden doorframe, he hobbled out into the hallway, except he didn’t move into the hallway. Ivan stopped, his breathing quickening at the strangeness of what had happened. While he continued to cling to the doorframe for balance, he was now looking into his bedroom as if he was just entering. Looking over his shoulder, Ivan saw the glow of torchlight in the hallway.
Confused, he shuffled on stiff legs to again face the open doorway. Cringing as he forced his body to move quickly, he stepped awkwardly through the doorway. This time his momentum carried him through the doorframe, yet he stumbled back into his bedroom. He reached out for something to hold onto and cried out in frustration as he found himself entering the room he’d attempted to exit. He fell to the floor, landing on an ornate rug in the center of the room. Using the marble table at its center and the nearer of two wing chairs, he pushed himself back to his feet.
This is some twisted trick only a madman could come up with, he thought, cursing the sorcerer he knew was responsible. There’s got to be a way out of here, he thought, searching the room.
As he looked around the room in search of another exit, he noticed that nothing had changed since he left this room all those years ago. The bed remained in the same place with the same bedding. All of his old trunks lined the far wall, presumably filled with clothes and other trinkets any young prince would’ve desired. His expansive closet was filled with suits and rich silk shirts hanging from wooden hangers to keep from wrinkling.
Everything is exactly the same, except for that, he thought, his gaze landing on the small wooden box on the seat of one of the chairs. Simple in design and the size of his palm, Ivan stood staring at the box. He could feel something familiar about it, though he didn’t recognize the box and wondered why it was placed so deliberately in that chair. Ivan scratched at his head, the memories of how he’d gotten here started to blur. He blinked, the pain from this thinking squeezing his mind.
This doesn’t make any sense! Why am I here?
He limped around the small table to the large-paned window on the opposite wall. Flipping open the latch, Ivan pushed the window open. Fresh air blew past him as he looked out over the courtyard. His room was three stories up, too far to jump safely. He’d die trying from this height.
Looking down the stone castle wall, he thought, I could climb down. I did it before when I was younger.
Ivan pulled up his pants and sat down on the window frame. His stumbling about the room had actually loosened his muscles slightly. Raising one of his tired legs, he now straddled the window frame. Looking out the window, he cursed.
The right side of his body, the one that had been facing outside, was now also facing inside his room. He looked left into his room and then he looked right into his room. Just to confirm that this wasn’t an illusion, he dropped his right side into the room. His foot landed firmly on the floor. He pulled himself through the aperture and back into the room. Turning around to look out the open window once again, he could see the courtyard below and feel the breeze gently blowing on his face. Ivan spat at the magically altered opening in frustration.
Stepping away from the window and toward the table, Ivan said aloud, “Why am I here?”
As if in response to his question, Merglan appeared in the doorway, spreading his arms in a welcoming gesture.
“You,” Ivan growled through gritted teeth. “What have you done to me?!” he shouted lunging at the man despite his feeble state.
Merglan easily sidestepped Ivan’s assault, allowing him to stumble past through the doorway and boomerang back into the room again, tripping on the rug as he fell to the floor.
Merglan brushed his hands together and said, “My dear friend, I thought you’d appreciate being put up in your old room.”
Ivan sat up and glared at the sorcerer. He wanted to kill this man with every inch of his being. Merglan had destroyed his life several times over and Ivan wanted revenge. He called upon the magic within him, but there wasn’t anything there. For the first time in his life since he’d bonded with his dragon, Jazzmaryth, he reached for magic that wasn’t there. He tried to feel for any dwindling powers he might have retained after his latest battle with Merglan, but he couldn’t sense them. His eyes darted back and forth, and he began to panic. Straining, he tried desperately through his aching mind to sense something, anything. He thought he might at least feel Merglan’s presence as he stood directly in front of him, but he couldn’t; there was nothing. Ivan looked down at his hands in horror, the realization hitting him in the gut like a steel fist.
Merglan stepped closer and knelt to Ivan’s level.
Ivan glanced at him, hatred for Merglan welling inside him. “What have you done to me?” he asked through trembling cheeks.
Merglan laced his fingers together, resting his forearms around his knees as he squatted, “I haven’t done anything to harm you, my dear old friend. On the contrary, actually. I plan to restore you.”
Ivan narrowed his eyes, “What are you talking about?”
Rising, Merglan said, “Ivan, you were trying to kill us. You would’ve succeeded in killing yourself if I hadn’t stopped you.” Merglan stepped past Ivan to the window and peered out at the courtyard. “That spell you were trying to conjure up was far beyond your capabilities, but you already knew that, didn’t you? You were exhausted from our mental struggle, which was truly impressive by the way, the fact that you were even able to accomplish that without Jazz and all. I’m surprised you could still perform any magic at all.”
Ivan slammed his fist against the ground, drawing Merglan’s attention, “Damn it, Merg! What did you do to me?”
“You always did have a short fuse,” Merglan replied as he folded his arms across his chest and sat down on the open windowsill.
Ivan stood, turning to face his enemy, jaw clenched and ready to assault him.
Ivan saw Merglan raise an eyebrow at him, then return his gaze to the courtyard below, “I saved you from yourself, Ivan. You were dying. I almost let you, but at the last moment when you were slipping into the void, I broke into your mind and stopped the spell you were about to finish.” He turned to face Ivan and continued, “Luckily, you hadn’t gotten very far in casting the spell because you were so weak.” Rising to his feet again, Merglan stepped closer to Ivan, “You were broken. Basically worthless. Killdoor and I repaired you. We brought your body back. I thought you would feel more comfortable waking here in your old room. I even left you a little gift.” Merglan nodded toward the chair directly behind Ivan.
Ivan knew what he was referring to without having to look. The box. “What is it?”
Merglan stepped around him, letting his stare linger longer. “Why don’t you open it and find out,” he said, pulling the chairs out from the table with a snap of his fingers. Merglan sat down. Ivan glared suspiciously at him as he gestured to Ivan to take the other seat. Ivan hated that he was in the same room with his nemesis and didn’t have a way to attack him.
At every other breath, Ivan searched for his magic, but it really was gone. His mind simply drew on blank space and emptiness. Fingering for the sword that had been at his waist when they’d come to the castle from the battle, he felt nothing at his side. Of course Merglan had taken that, too. He was unarmed and his mind was broken. He should’ve been dead, but Merglan even stopped that from happening. Ivan thought about trying to strangle Merglan, but the sorcerer would only have to wave his finger and Ivan would be rendered useless.
Ivan stepped warily around to the chair, lifted the box from its leather upholstery and sat. He set the box on the table between them.
“Don’t you want to know what’s inside?” Merglan asked with a slight, almost snarling smile.
Ivan leaned back in the chair, shaking his head.
Merglan glanced at the box, then leaned forward, eyeing the chessboard on the table. “No? Okay. I thought it was worth a try. How about a game instead?” Merglan said, moving a pawn forward.
“What’s wrong with you?” Ivan asked, shaking his head.
Merglan frowned, “You used to love this game.”
“Can’t you have a real conversation with me for once?” Ivan asked irritated, leaning forward. “Why do you always have to do things through games and metaphors? Why can’t you just talk to me straight?”
Merglan didn’t lift his eyes from the table, “It’s your move.”
Ivan slumped back into the chair, “Merg, I really don’t want to play right now.”
Merglan narrowed his eyes, “Don’t you miss this, Will? We were pals, best buds. We were going to rule the kingdom together. What happened to us?”
