Dungeons and Turrets - A Short Story

_{Source: ArtTower on Pixabay}

It was a dark and stormy night, although this was the least of Remy’s troubles. He was lost in a horrid medieval castle.

But let’s start at the beginning… an hour earlier.

The van carrying the game participants wound its way through a Scottish moor toward a 13th century citadel, driven by a skeleton-thin man in a black driver’s cap. Rain slapped at the vehicle’s windshield. They had left their cars at something called The Carriage House, an addition to the property around the time of the first world war.

The group spoke excitedly, as they had all participated in events put on by the very eccentric Vespera and Horatio Everdane, and they agreed this was certain to be another night to remember.

All but Remy. He was actually quite wary of this experience, dubbed Dungeons and Turrets, because the last event had left him with a concussion after a fall from a steed. And yet, fearful of being that guy who never does anything fun, he couldn’t say no to the invitations.

The Everdains, who hailed from Columbus, Ohio, were certainly creative. He suspected they had changed their names to sound more gothic than whatever their now-deceased parents had named them. They didn’t have parties; they arranged encounters. They held seances, bizarre games and elaborate rituals. Most notable was their sacrificial lamb soirée, followed by a rollicking feast, for which all guests were required to wear medieval costumes and drink grog. It was all in fun... yet somehow disturbing.

At last the van crossed a drawbridge and pulled up to the castle’s entrance.

“Hold tight, now,” the driver said.

And then two people dressed in knight’s armor came to the car to escort the group from the van to the castle door, under the protection of large golf umbrellas. Remy tried not to scoff.

The participants, which included two couples from the Bronx, plus Remy and his arranged date, named Judith (no more his type than a turtle), all climbed out. Remy extended his hand to Judith and helped her from the van. It seemed the right thing to do.

As they stepped into the castle, he turned back and watched with a bit of remorse as the van’s headlights swept across the moor and moved down the hill and out of sight under a crackle of lightning.

“This is so exciting,” Judith said. “The last one I attended was called Trolls vs. Maidens. It was all in virtual reality. It turns out I’m absolutely wicked with a sword.”

“That’s… awesome.”

They were led up the stairs by a satin-trussed young woman who greeted them with a southern California accent. “Hi everyone, I’m Bethany, your Princess Guide. Follow me, please.”

The Princess Guide led them down dim hallways to a distant wing of the castle where they were greeted by their hosts, who were dressed in deep green velvet outfits from the middle ages.

“Darlings!” Vespera said, handing them each a goblet of mead. Her elaborate flowing gown looked as if it might weigh 50 pounds. “Come! Have a drink. I’m so delighted you’re here.”

Horatio, whose outfit consisted of a green tunic with a gold belt and ridiculous purple tights, then proceeded to provide the game parameters. “My friends. I trust you became acquainted on the ride up? Wonderful! Let’s get started.” He raised his glass, and they all followed suit, each taking a hearty drink. “Tonight, we’ll have a scavenger hunt. The items you need to find…”

It was at this point, with Horatio talking about turrets, servants’ quarters and dungeons, that Remy realized his knee was jiggling. And that could only mean one thing. The two cups of coffee he’d tossed back at his AirBNB to fight jet lag had worked their way through. And he’d polished off the goblet of mead as well. It was really quite good, and he made a mental note to ask for more. He stood and slipped past the other members of the group.

“The number one rule is that no one goes alone,” Horatio was saying, though he had to shout at that moment to be heard over the crash of thunder.

“Excuse me,” Remy said to the Princess Guide, who stood at the ready by the door. “How do I find the loo?”

She pointed down the hall, explaining where to turn and which stairs to take. Remy thanked her and dashed off.

And that was when things began to go very wrong. He walked two corridors down, found a staircase, proceeded down to the next floor and took a left, just as she had said. But there was no bathroom here. Perhaps he had misunderstood. Was it two floors down, then a corridor and a left? The place was so bedecked with staircases and hallways that he became even more mixed up when attempting to retrace his steps.

He traveled down one dim hallway after another, each lit by smudgy wall torches, their light creating deep shadows around statues and urns. Portraits lined the walls, and he refused to meet the gaze of their subjects, certain their eyes would be following him in some cliché, yet horrifying way. Meanwhile, thunder created haunting reverberations that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere. And as he passed open doorways, he could see sitting rooms and boudoirs, all with high windows that vibrantly displayed the ravages of the storm.

Dear God, where was he?

He stepped into a room to look for a chamber pot. Anything. The need to relieve himself was more urgent than ever. Crack! Lightning skittered across the sky, illuminating a room full of cloth-draped furniture looking every bit like a morgue.

He stumbled back out. And that’s when he heard it. A slithering sound.

Remy was not alone.

He reeled, looking for the source of the sound, but saw nothing.

Running, he found a staircase and took the stairs two at a time. From everywhere, it seemed, he could hear breathing, as if the castle itself had come to life. Up another flight of stairs, this one more narrow. Where was his group? Suddenly, he stopped. He was in the cramped space of the turret. Outside the window, the storm crashed, lighting up the moor. Then the lightning was followed immediately by the hair-raising boom of thunder.

He could not stay here. It was a dead end. Whatever that thing was, it could find him here. He ran down the stairs again — two floors down… three floors. Where had they come in? He recalled a beautiful great room with a fireplace. Perhaps he would be safe there. But no, the walls narrowed again. A dank aroma wafted over him. He heard a moan and the clanking of chains, and saw a long corridor of barred cells. The dungeon! What was in those cells? Surely not prisoners.

No. This could not be. He was hopelessly lost in this castle, and he would be until they found his bones in some dark passage. He retreated up the stairs. That’s when he felt the air grow hot. And then he saw the scaled beast.

It was slithering down a corridor on the other side of an open atrium. And it breathed fire. What was that thing? Its head turned and it gazed upon him with green eyes, then began moving across a railing toward him. He was paralyzed. He felt the wall behind him for a doorway, an escape route.

Then he heard footsteps, and as the creature slithered closer, he heard his name.

“Remy! Don’t move!” It was Judith.

“Run!” he said. “It can’t take both of us!”

“Not on your life,” Judith said, as she brandished a sword. “I was made for this moment.” And as the fire-breathing beast descended upon them, she slayed it with one swift movement.

Remy blinked. “What is happening?”

“Come on!” she shouted, and grabbed his hand. “We have to hurry!” Then they were running down corridors, with Judith barking questions.

“Did you see the turret?”

“Yes.”

“What about the dungeon?”

“Yes!”

Finally, they re-entered the room where the game had started. Vespera and Horatio were sitting on a chaise lounge with their gilded goblets.

“Ah,” Vespera said, standing. “The first ones back! Although...” she said a bit sternly, "you left without your partner and your sword, Remy."

Horatio picked up a laptop and tapped a few keys, saying “Mm-hm. Yes. Good. Yes.”

Remy looked at Judith. “What the…?”

“He’s checking to make sure we found the turret, the dungeon and the dragon,” Judith said. “This place is totally wired. Cameras everywhere. And didn’t you love the augmented reality dragon? The Everdanes are geniuses.”

“Well,” Horatio said, looking up from the laptop. “You did it, friends! You won the scavenger hunt.”

Just then the two other couples ran in, panting. “Damn it,” said the one named Louise.

“Come! Let’s toast the winners,” Vespera said, pouring a fresh round of mead.

“Thank you,” Remy said. “But first I have to pee.”

Thank you for reading my story! This is my contribution to The Ink Well prompt of the week: headlights. If you enjoy reading or writing short stories, join us in The Ink Well!