The Basilisk of Krzywe Koło
- Thread starter SingingDryad~
- Start date
SingingDryad~
New member
Oh i believe he will....
Cornelius is very eccentric,in a way.
Updates later.
Cornelius is very eccentric,in a way.
Updates later.
SeaStar
New member
Oh i believe he will....
Cornelius is very eccentric,in a way.
Updates later.
And now I am curious about Cornelius also.
Mozart the Meerkitten
Well-known member
SD;
POST MORE! NOW!!!!
lol, yes I am still reading this, or I would be if I had something new to read!
POST MORE! NOW!!!!
lol, yes I am still reading this, or I would be if I had something new to read!
SingingDryad~
New member
I'm back!Sorry it took so long.
* * *
Sigismund and Boleslav were hurried on like children by the old woman, who never seemed to tire in here relentless pace.
She led them away from the crowds, following the old route of the Barbakan. Slipping between the shadows of the walls, the woman, despite her age, moved almost catlike.
Reaching a place where the archers used to shoot, the woman gestured to an entranceway.
The red stone curved into an arch, with a long, sloping staircase going steadily downwards. Clumps of grass stuck out from between the steps, giving the impression the area had been long deserted.
But it obviously hadn’t, for the woman dove in, Boleslav and Sigismund following.
At the bottom of the stairs the flat earth made a landing, and there, seemingly built as an afterthought, was a weather-beaten door.
Long ago the people must’ve stored weapons here.
The woman smartly rapped her bony knuckles against the door. Silence.
Shuffling as someone moved across the floor inside.
Crash! Something fell, and then loud cursing could be heard.
The door creaked open, and an old man stood there, blinking like an owl. He was tall, rather thin, with erect posture and long white hair that merged with his silvery beard. His thin, ruddy face was wrinkled, but his clear blue eyes were steady and bright.
“Dobrosława?” The man asked, his voice surprised but at the same time pleased. His gaze swept past her, and stopped on Sigismund and Boleslav.
They must’ve looked quite odd, one with a bleeding head, the other a nervous wreck on crutches. “I see you’ve brought guests, and I’m sure you have a most fascinating explanation for your sudden appearance.”
“This is no time for small talk, Cornelius!” The woman-Dobrosława-snapped.
“These two are in trouble. You’re knowledgeable when it comes to Krzywe Koło, aren’t you?”
Cornelius’ eyes widened, growing serious in a moment. “Come in, come in!” He said, ushering his guests inside quickly. They entered, and Cornelius shut the door behind them.
They were in a big room; comfortably cool, with an oak floor. Bookshelves were pushed against the walls, struggling to contain everything Cornelius had stuffed in them. Still-books, inkwells, papyrus scrolls and other such items were strewn across the room.
The principle source of light came from the window in the far corner, offering a view of the defense posts near Warsaw.
Except for the bookshelves, the room had a bed, a massive mahogany table and chairs, and an old, dark wardrobe.
There was a faint, musty smell in the place, like a combination of dusty oold books and horsehair.
Cornelius stood before them, one eyebrow raised so it disappeared into his bushy mane of hair.
“And who, may I ask, are these two?” He inquired, not unkindly.
Boleslav bowed clumsily. Sigismund only slightly lowered his head, for fear he’d drop blood on the floor.
“I am Boleslav Złotopolski. Ah…this is my friend Sigismund Kruk.” Boleslav
stammered.
Cornelius immediately stepped forward to Sigismund, glancing at the wound.
“I see Dobrosława did her work.” He noticed.
Dobrosława rolled her eyes. “There weren’t any bandages.”
“No matter. The bread and cobwebs helped.” Cornelius assured. Turning to Sigismund, he asked: “Does it hurt? Are you dizzy?”
Sigismund shook his head bravely. “Just a little faint. That noble struck me pretty hard.”
“Ah! Nobles!” Cornelius cried. “Some are so pig-headed. Wait, I’ll get a bandage.” And he shuffled off to a back room, leaving his three guests.
“You said he could help us.” Hissed Boleslav, growing angry. “Its good he’s taking care of Sigismund, but lets face it- he’s just an old scholar! Which lives like a beggar, under the old city walls!”
Dobrosława smirked. “He IS helping you, he’s just eccentric. He has his own little ways.”
“He’d better.” Muttered Boleslav as Cornelius came back in.
The old scholar hunched over Sigismund, and started wrapping a bandage around his head, talking at the same time.
“Well.” He asked. “What is all this about Krzywe Koło?”
Boleslav told him the whole story, about Stas and Bronka’s disappearance, his suspicions they had gone to the forbidden cellars.
When he finished, Cornelius was practically pulling his beard out.
“My, then the situation is indeed serious!” He cried, scurrying over to one of his bookshelves.
Sigismund and Boleslav exchanged a glance.
Dobrosława said nothing, her left eye twitching.
“Basilisk…Krzywe Koło…. Basil-here it is.” Cornelius exclaimed, pulling out massive leather bound book, and marching over to his visitors.
He plopped the book on the table and cracked it open, raising a cloud of dust.
Boleslav gasped.
Spanning two pages wide was a full illustration of a horrible monster, with many-colored feathery wings and a scaly back…but there was no head.
“Is…that the Basilisk?” Asked Sigismund, who had stumbled up to them.
Cornelius nodded gravely. “The head is blank, since no one has ever seen it and lived.”
Boleslav swallowed with difficulty. Thinking that his two children were lost under Warsaw with that…thing was too much to bear. Hardly anyone had ever come out of there alive.
Cornelius’ cracked voice interrupted Boleslav’s anguish.
“The only way of killing the Basilisk is to make it see itself.” The scholar narrated, his bony finger traveling along a line of text.
“Using a mirror?” Prompted Sigismund. Dobrosława and Cornelius nodded.
“A suit of mirrors, as other weapons will be of no use to us.” Cornelius added. “I have one already.”
Boleslav’s heart leapt. “Then I’ll do it! I’ll go to Krzywe Koło in this mirror-suit.” He exclaimed, hope re-entering once he had realized there was still a chance for his children.
Cornelius cocked an eyebrow, and shook his head slowly.
“Why not?” Boleslav was angry and bewildered. “Time is running out! The longer we stand here, the smaller the chance-“
“Then for the love of God shut your mouth!” Dobrosława snapped. Boleslav didn’t listen and his temper was flaring.
Before he launched into an angry stream of swear words, he felt Sigismund’s arm stopping him.
“I’ll go.” He said quietly. His bleeding had mostly stopped, but the cut looked horrible, almost raw under the bandage.Boleslav wasn't sure Sigismund would find the strength.
“Oh no you won’t! None of you will!” Cornelius thundered. “Boleslav is a…is a cripple. You won’t be able to lift the mirrors without your crutches. As for Sigismund-Basilisks are highly attracted to blood. You’d be dead before you’d even step underground.”
“What do you suggest then, Sir?” Boleslav resisted the urge to strangle the old man.
“Desperate measures.” Cornelius answered mysteriously, his eyes glittering as if this was all some big adventure, and he was enjoying every moment.
Hope its clear and lucid enough.
* * *
Sigismund and Boleslav were hurried on like children by the old woman, who never seemed to tire in here relentless pace.
She led them away from the crowds, following the old route of the Barbakan. Slipping between the shadows of the walls, the woman, despite her age, moved almost catlike.
Reaching a place where the archers used to shoot, the woman gestured to an entranceway.
The red stone curved into an arch, with a long, sloping staircase going steadily downwards. Clumps of grass stuck out from between the steps, giving the impression the area had been long deserted.
But it obviously hadn’t, for the woman dove in, Boleslav and Sigismund following.
At the bottom of the stairs the flat earth made a landing, and there, seemingly built as an afterthought, was a weather-beaten door.
Long ago the people must’ve stored weapons here.
The woman smartly rapped her bony knuckles against the door. Silence.
Shuffling as someone moved across the floor inside.
Crash! Something fell, and then loud cursing could be heard.
The door creaked open, and an old man stood there, blinking like an owl. He was tall, rather thin, with erect posture and long white hair that merged with his silvery beard. His thin, ruddy face was wrinkled, but his clear blue eyes were steady and bright.
“Dobrosława?” The man asked, his voice surprised but at the same time pleased. His gaze swept past her, and stopped on Sigismund and Boleslav.
They must’ve looked quite odd, one with a bleeding head, the other a nervous wreck on crutches. “I see you’ve brought guests, and I’m sure you have a most fascinating explanation for your sudden appearance.”
“This is no time for small talk, Cornelius!” The woman-Dobrosława-snapped.
“These two are in trouble. You’re knowledgeable when it comes to Krzywe Koło, aren’t you?”
Cornelius’ eyes widened, growing serious in a moment. “Come in, come in!” He said, ushering his guests inside quickly. They entered, and Cornelius shut the door behind them.
They were in a big room; comfortably cool, with an oak floor. Bookshelves were pushed against the walls, struggling to contain everything Cornelius had stuffed in them. Still-books, inkwells, papyrus scrolls and other such items were strewn across the room.
The principle source of light came from the window in the far corner, offering a view of the defense posts near Warsaw.
Except for the bookshelves, the room had a bed, a massive mahogany table and chairs, and an old, dark wardrobe.
There was a faint, musty smell in the place, like a combination of dusty oold books and horsehair.
Cornelius stood before them, one eyebrow raised so it disappeared into his bushy mane of hair.
“And who, may I ask, are these two?” He inquired, not unkindly.
Boleslav bowed clumsily. Sigismund only slightly lowered his head, for fear he’d drop blood on the floor.
“I am Boleslav Złotopolski. Ah…this is my friend Sigismund Kruk.” Boleslav
stammered.
Cornelius immediately stepped forward to Sigismund, glancing at the wound.
“I see Dobrosława did her work.” He noticed.
Dobrosława rolled her eyes. “There weren’t any bandages.”
“No matter. The bread and cobwebs helped.” Cornelius assured. Turning to Sigismund, he asked: “Does it hurt? Are you dizzy?”
Sigismund shook his head bravely. “Just a little faint. That noble struck me pretty hard.”
“Ah! Nobles!” Cornelius cried. “Some are so pig-headed. Wait, I’ll get a bandage.” And he shuffled off to a back room, leaving his three guests.
“You said he could help us.” Hissed Boleslav, growing angry. “Its good he’s taking care of Sigismund, but lets face it- he’s just an old scholar! Which lives like a beggar, under the old city walls!”
Dobrosława smirked. “He IS helping you, he’s just eccentric. He has his own little ways.”
“He’d better.” Muttered Boleslav as Cornelius came back in.
The old scholar hunched over Sigismund, and started wrapping a bandage around his head, talking at the same time.
“Well.” He asked. “What is all this about Krzywe Koło?”
Boleslav told him the whole story, about Stas and Bronka’s disappearance, his suspicions they had gone to the forbidden cellars.
When he finished, Cornelius was practically pulling his beard out.
“My, then the situation is indeed serious!” He cried, scurrying over to one of his bookshelves.
Sigismund and Boleslav exchanged a glance.
Dobrosława said nothing, her left eye twitching.
“Basilisk…Krzywe Koło…. Basil-here it is.” Cornelius exclaimed, pulling out massive leather bound book, and marching over to his visitors.
He plopped the book on the table and cracked it open, raising a cloud of dust.
Boleslav gasped.
Spanning two pages wide was a full illustration of a horrible monster, with many-colored feathery wings and a scaly back…but there was no head.
“Is…that the Basilisk?” Asked Sigismund, who had stumbled up to them.
Cornelius nodded gravely. “The head is blank, since no one has ever seen it and lived.”
Boleslav swallowed with difficulty. Thinking that his two children were lost under Warsaw with that…thing was too much to bear. Hardly anyone had ever come out of there alive.
Cornelius’ cracked voice interrupted Boleslav’s anguish.
“The only way of killing the Basilisk is to make it see itself.” The scholar narrated, his bony finger traveling along a line of text.
“Using a mirror?” Prompted Sigismund. Dobrosława and Cornelius nodded.
“A suit of mirrors, as other weapons will be of no use to us.” Cornelius added. “I have one already.”
Boleslav’s heart leapt. “Then I’ll do it! I’ll go to Krzywe Koło in this mirror-suit.” He exclaimed, hope re-entering once he had realized there was still a chance for his children.
Cornelius cocked an eyebrow, and shook his head slowly.
“Why not?” Boleslav was angry and bewildered. “Time is running out! The longer we stand here, the smaller the chance-“
“Then for the love of God shut your mouth!” Dobrosława snapped. Boleslav didn’t listen and his temper was flaring.
Before he launched into an angry stream of swear words, he felt Sigismund’s arm stopping him.
“I’ll go.” He said quietly. His bleeding had mostly stopped, but the cut looked horrible, almost raw under the bandage.Boleslav wasn't sure Sigismund would find the strength.
“Oh no you won’t! None of you will!” Cornelius thundered. “Boleslav is a…is a cripple. You won’t be able to lift the mirrors without your crutches. As for Sigismund-Basilisks are highly attracted to blood. You’d be dead before you’d even step underground.”
“What do you suggest then, Sir?” Boleslav resisted the urge to strangle the old man.
“Desperate measures.” Cornelius answered mysteriously, his eyes glittering as if this was all some big adventure, and he was enjoying every moment.
Hope its clear and lucid enough.
Last edited:
yes it's very exciting
Copperfox
Well-known member
Yes, it's clear to read; only a very few spelling errors.
Bread as a wound compress--a very smart improvisation!
The name Dobroslawa must mean something like "Good Glory."
If Basilisks are killed by seeing themselves, are they also killed by seeing other Basilisks? That would make dating difficult for teenage Basilisks, but it would relieve them from spending time prettying up for each other.
Bread as a wound compress--a very smart improvisation!
The name Dobroslawa must mean something like "Good Glory."
If Basilisks are killed by seeing themselves, are they also killed by seeing other Basilisks? That would make dating difficult for teenage Basilisks, but it would relieve them from spending time prettying up for each other.
SingingDryad~
New member
LOL Copperfox!According to legend a Basilisk is made when a serpent and rooster cross or something...
And thank you all for the comments!Those really help.
Oh boy,pronounciation guides!
GNIEZNO=gn-YEEH-ZNOH
DOBROSŁAWA=Dooh-broh-SWA-va
And yes,Copperfox,the Poles(i'm sure others did too)used a combination of bread and cobwebs for penicillin-although they didn't call it that.They just said Bread 'N' Cobwebs.
Its actually very effective.I found out about by reading Polish historical books(like Sienkiewicz's classic Trylogia),set in the 17th century.
Updates soon,everyone.
According to legend a Basilisk is made when a serpent and rooster cross or something...And thank you all for the comments!Those really help.
Oh boy,pronounciation guides!
GNIEZNO=gn-YEEH-ZNOH
DOBROSŁAWA=Dooh-broh-SWA-va
And yes,Copperfox,the Poles(i'm sure others did too)used a combination of bread and cobwebs for penicillin-although they didn't call it that.They just said Bread 'N' Cobwebs.
Its actually very effective.I found out about by reading Polish historical books(like Sienkiewicz's classic Trylogia),set in the 17th century.
Updates soon,everyone.
LOL Copperfox!
a chicken egg hatched under a toad is the version I know
SingingDryad~
New member
Next part!And we got a new character coming in...
* * *
“What do you mean?” Asked Dobrosława, inching closer.
“Simply this-who would dare go to Krzywe Koło?” Cornelius cast a very meaningful glance at Boleslav and Sigismund. “Except these two gentlemen. I am too old, and even Dobrosława will not put her life at stake. Its too risky for most.”
“My children are trapped there!” Boleslav pleaded, seeing there was no reasoning with this old man. Begging was the only option now.
Cornelius interlaced his lined hands, and stared up at the ceiling, thinking.
The rest waited in tense silence, Boleslav biting his lips until they nearly bled.
“We need to go to the city prison.” Cornelius finally said.
Sigismund and Boleslav stiffened. Even Dobrosława was taken aback.
“What do you want from there?” Sigismund inquired, dreading the answer.
“We’ll take a condemned man, and use him. As a reward we’ll offer him his freedom.”
Boleslav hissed through clenched teeth. “And you’ll trust a murderer to bring my children back safely?” He spat.
“If you have a better idea, I’ll gladly hear it.” Cornelius glared. He had the light of battle in his eyes.
Boleslav whirled on Dobrosława, who straightened instinctively.
“You said he’d help!” Snarled Boleslav. “He’s making foolish suggestions, no doubt! Murderers to save children! Ha!”
Dobrosława was having trouble keeping her temper in check also. Cornelius and Sigismund were quiet, watching with growing horror.
“Cornelius will help. You have to trust him.” Dobrosława was so angry; she stammered the words out in an effort not to scream.
Cornelius stepped in, determined to stop the two from arguing.
“Stop! As Boleslav once said, the more we stay here, the smaller the chance gets for the children in Krzywe Koło.”
Boleslav and Dobrosława hung their heads. After a moment Boleslav lifted his head.
“What a fool I’ve been.” He murmured. “I’m deeply sorry, Cornelius. I’m just worried about my children.”
“I forgive you. It wasn’t your fault anyway.” Cornelius briefly shook hands with Boleslav, who was kneading his foot in impatience.
Dobrosława’s thin lips curled into a wry smile at this, and she opened the door, letting in a curtain of light.
“Now that we’ve agreed, we should go. The prison is pretty close, thankfully.”
Boleslav turned around, determination overtaking his face.
“Yes, lets hurry.” He agreed, hobbling towards Dobrosława, Cornelius and Sigismund right behind him.
They left the Barbakan walls, ducking into narrow passages to avoid the crowds of the Equinox Festival.
Over Boleslav and Cornelius’ hurried words they could still hear the trumpets, fiddles and drums on the Market Square. It seemed like the rest of Warsaw was completely ignorant of the troubles Boleslav now faced.
Leaving the merriment of the Rynek, they entered a more subdued part of the city. Here the houses grew scarce, and the road went steadily uphill. There, looming against the bright blue sky was the prison. Dark, carefully guarded and foreboding, its thick walls made escape virtually impossible.
A pair of chipped gargoyles, at least twelve feet in height, stood by the barred entrance, daring anyone to come in.
Cornelius swallowed as he looked at the structure.
“This place is evil.” Sigismund muttered, crossing himself. Dobrosława rolled her eyes, and she and Boleslav strode up to the massive entrance, and knocked.
The sound echoed loudly, and footsteps approached.
“Who goes there?” A rough voice called.
“Cornelius of Gniezno is with us! On the King’s business!” Boleslav cried.
A heavy bolt was slid back, and the iron door creaked open. A soldier stood there, wearing a chain-mail shirt, a short sword, and a fierce frown.
“Do you have permission?” He barked at the newcomers. His breath stank of rancid meat.
Cornelius stepped forward with a flourish.
“Oh yes I do!” He brandished a yellowed roll of parchment in front of the soldier’s face.
The guard took it, and looked at it quizzically.
It then dawned on Boleslav (who was growing very nervous), the guard wasn’t really reading, just pretending in an effort to look intimidating.
Smart old Cornelius, always with a trick up his sleeve.
The guard led them into the prison, shutting the heavy door behind him.
The inside of the prison house was dim and cold, torches lining the walls. Before them was another steel door, which the guard opened using a special key.
Only once they had passed that did they truly enter the penitentiary, starting with a longer corridor to walk along, grime coating the walls.
Boleslav shivered in the dampness. The group’s footsteps were unnaturally loud as they walked on the old stones.
The guard veered sharply left, plunging them into sudden light. A thick door was opened, and they entered what could be called an office.
The room was cramped, with high windows and cold walls. There was a table and chairs, and a desk, at which sat a man.
He looked up when Boleslav’ group entered, and curled his upper lip, revealing a row of yellowing teeth. He was tall and bald, with a close-trimmed beard and mud-colored eyes, barely visible under his bushy eyebrows.
“Yes?” He barked irritably, getting up.
Cornelius launched into a pointless, hurried speech about “the King’s wishes and affairs of state”, using words Boleslav didn’t know existed.
The jailer, he noticed, also looked very confused. He stuttered a few questions before Cornelius whipped out the document with the King’s signature.
“Oh-then why yes of course!” The jailer laughed weakly. “But tell me, what is it you want?”
“We want a condemned man…his name is-er…” Cornelius’ face flickered with indecision. The jailer was starting to look skeptical. Suddenly Cornelius cried out. “Kosma! His name is Kosma!”
The jailer’s jaw dropped. “Kosma the murder? What do you want with him? He is to be executed today…”
“I don’t care what he did, all I say is the King needs him. Official business, you understand. Maybe he plans to use Kosma as an assassin.” Cornelius waved his hand impatiently. Even impatient, worried Boleslav momentarily forgot his troubles and gawped at the old scholar’s bravado.
“Eh-hem! The King’s orders are to be obeyed quickly, my good man!” Snapped Cornelius.
The jailer practically leapt into the air, and scurried to the door. “Come with me.” He squeaked.
Boleslav and Cornelius followed him, while Dobrosława and Sigismund remained in the jailer’s office.
The jailer stumbled down a short flight of stairs, and unlocked another door, behind which stood two guards.
They had entered a low-ceiling prison corridor, with ten cell doors-five on each side -lining the walls.
“Which cell is Kosma in?” Asked the Jailer crossly. One of the guards pointed to the last cell on the left side, and the Jailer, Boleslav and Cornelius hurried towards it.
With shaking hands the Jailer unlocked the door, and with a creak, swung it open.
Cornelius immediately entered, Boleslav right behind him. Even the idea of hiring a criminal seemed good if it were to save his children.
The Jailer followed hesitantly, drawing a short sword from his belt.
“Kosma!” Cornelius called into the gloomy cell.
From the shadows something stirred, and Boleslav could’ve sworn he saw two burning green eyes floating around.
“Show yourself this instant.” Commanded the jailer.
Shuffling footsteps, and out of the dimness, stepping into the weak light, came the tall, thin figure of Kosma the murderer.
Long black hair framed his thin, pale face. His large green eyes, outlined by long black eyelashes, blazed with fire, and his cheeks were hollow. A thin black moustache drooped over his dark red lips.
He couldn’t have been older that twenty-one.
Even in his current state, Boleslav could tell Kosma was a strong man, and an air of intelligence hung about him.
“Cuff him.” The jailer instructed, as the two guards moved in.
“What, has my execution time come?” Asked Kosma nonchalantly. His tone was mocking.
“Sadly no…” Muttered the jailer, as the guards securely cuffed Kosma’s hands together.
The prisoner eyed Cornelius and Boleslav warily.
“Who are these two oafs?” He inquired, and was smartly whacked across the face by the jailer.
Cornelius stopped him. “Time is of the essence. We must hurry. Expect a letter from me regarding the King’s opinion.” Cornelius said, and a shiver passed through the jailer.
Kosma watched all this with avid interest, although he still didn’t know what was happening.
Boleslav saw the jailer had purposely made the cuffs too tight, and now they were cutting into Kosma’s thin wrists, though he gave no sign of pain.
Boleslav momentarily was lost in thought…could this hardened criminal save his children?
“Stas and Bronka, my dears. Hold on a little longer.” Boleslav silently begged, as Cornelius finished scaring the guards and jailer into letting them go.
“The jailer looks relieved to have Kosma out of his sight.” Observed Boleslav, doubt flooding his mind.
Cornelius was handed the rope connected to Kosma’s wrists.
“If he gives you any trouble…I’d advise using this.” The jailer showed a knotted whip.
Cornelius disgustedly pushed it away.
“Barbaric practices are something I don’t approve of.” He hissed, as the jailer blanched and scooted back.
Kosma smirked.
Cornelius started down the upper corridor, Boleslav and the criminal friend in tow.
They met Dobrosława and Sigismund by the entrance, and without a word (it was too dark to really talk), they went up to the door.
It seemed to open horribly slow for Boleslav…
* * *
Hope you like it.This is seriously spur-of-the-moment,so its not really edited.
* * *
“What do you mean?” Asked Dobrosława, inching closer.
“Simply this-who would dare go to Krzywe Koło?” Cornelius cast a very meaningful glance at Boleslav and Sigismund. “Except these two gentlemen. I am too old, and even Dobrosława will not put her life at stake. Its too risky for most.”
“My children are trapped there!” Boleslav pleaded, seeing there was no reasoning with this old man. Begging was the only option now.
Cornelius interlaced his lined hands, and stared up at the ceiling, thinking.
The rest waited in tense silence, Boleslav biting his lips until they nearly bled.
“We need to go to the city prison.” Cornelius finally said.
Sigismund and Boleslav stiffened. Even Dobrosława was taken aback.
“What do you want from there?” Sigismund inquired, dreading the answer.
“We’ll take a condemned man, and use him. As a reward we’ll offer him his freedom.”
Boleslav hissed through clenched teeth. “And you’ll trust a murderer to bring my children back safely?” He spat.
“If you have a better idea, I’ll gladly hear it.” Cornelius glared. He had the light of battle in his eyes.
Boleslav whirled on Dobrosława, who straightened instinctively.
“You said he’d help!” Snarled Boleslav. “He’s making foolish suggestions, no doubt! Murderers to save children! Ha!”
Dobrosława was having trouble keeping her temper in check also. Cornelius and Sigismund were quiet, watching with growing horror.
“Cornelius will help. You have to trust him.” Dobrosława was so angry; she stammered the words out in an effort not to scream.
Cornelius stepped in, determined to stop the two from arguing.
“Stop! As Boleslav once said, the more we stay here, the smaller the chance gets for the children in Krzywe Koło.”
Boleslav and Dobrosława hung their heads. After a moment Boleslav lifted his head.
“What a fool I’ve been.” He murmured. “I’m deeply sorry, Cornelius. I’m just worried about my children.”
“I forgive you. It wasn’t your fault anyway.” Cornelius briefly shook hands with Boleslav, who was kneading his foot in impatience.
Dobrosława’s thin lips curled into a wry smile at this, and she opened the door, letting in a curtain of light.
“Now that we’ve agreed, we should go. The prison is pretty close, thankfully.”
Boleslav turned around, determination overtaking his face.
“Yes, lets hurry.” He agreed, hobbling towards Dobrosława, Cornelius and Sigismund right behind him.
They left the Barbakan walls, ducking into narrow passages to avoid the crowds of the Equinox Festival.
Over Boleslav and Cornelius’ hurried words they could still hear the trumpets, fiddles and drums on the Market Square. It seemed like the rest of Warsaw was completely ignorant of the troubles Boleslav now faced.
Leaving the merriment of the Rynek, they entered a more subdued part of the city. Here the houses grew scarce, and the road went steadily uphill. There, looming against the bright blue sky was the prison. Dark, carefully guarded and foreboding, its thick walls made escape virtually impossible.
A pair of chipped gargoyles, at least twelve feet in height, stood by the barred entrance, daring anyone to come in.
Cornelius swallowed as he looked at the structure.
“This place is evil.” Sigismund muttered, crossing himself. Dobrosława rolled her eyes, and she and Boleslav strode up to the massive entrance, and knocked.
The sound echoed loudly, and footsteps approached.
“Who goes there?” A rough voice called.
“Cornelius of Gniezno is with us! On the King’s business!” Boleslav cried.
A heavy bolt was slid back, and the iron door creaked open. A soldier stood there, wearing a chain-mail shirt, a short sword, and a fierce frown.
“Do you have permission?” He barked at the newcomers. His breath stank of rancid meat.
Cornelius stepped forward with a flourish.
“Oh yes I do!” He brandished a yellowed roll of parchment in front of the soldier’s face.
The guard took it, and looked at it quizzically.
It then dawned on Boleslav (who was growing very nervous), the guard wasn’t really reading, just pretending in an effort to look intimidating.
Smart old Cornelius, always with a trick up his sleeve.
The guard led them into the prison, shutting the heavy door behind him.
The inside of the prison house was dim and cold, torches lining the walls. Before them was another steel door, which the guard opened using a special key.
Only once they had passed that did they truly enter the penitentiary, starting with a longer corridor to walk along, grime coating the walls.
Boleslav shivered in the dampness. The group’s footsteps were unnaturally loud as they walked on the old stones.
The guard veered sharply left, plunging them into sudden light. A thick door was opened, and they entered what could be called an office.
The room was cramped, with high windows and cold walls. There was a table and chairs, and a desk, at which sat a man.
He looked up when Boleslav’ group entered, and curled his upper lip, revealing a row of yellowing teeth. He was tall and bald, with a close-trimmed beard and mud-colored eyes, barely visible under his bushy eyebrows.
“Yes?” He barked irritably, getting up.
Cornelius launched into a pointless, hurried speech about “the King’s wishes and affairs of state”, using words Boleslav didn’t know existed.
The jailer, he noticed, also looked very confused. He stuttered a few questions before Cornelius whipped out the document with the King’s signature.
“Oh-then why yes of course!” The jailer laughed weakly. “But tell me, what is it you want?”
“We want a condemned man…his name is-er…” Cornelius’ face flickered with indecision. The jailer was starting to look skeptical. Suddenly Cornelius cried out. “Kosma! His name is Kosma!”
The jailer’s jaw dropped. “Kosma the murder? What do you want with him? He is to be executed today…”
“I don’t care what he did, all I say is the King needs him. Official business, you understand. Maybe he plans to use Kosma as an assassin.” Cornelius waved his hand impatiently. Even impatient, worried Boleslav momentarily forgot his troubles and gawped at the old scholar’s bravado.
“Eh-hem! The King’s orders are to be obeyed quickly, my good man!” Snapped Cornelius.
The jailer practically leapt into the air, and scurried to the door. “Come with me.” He squeaked.
Boleslav and Cornelius followed him, while Dobrosława and Sigismund remained in the jailer’s office.
The jailer stumbled down a short flight of stairs, and unlocked another door, behind which stood two guards.
They had entered a low-ceiling prison corridor, with ten cell doors-five on each side -lining the walls.
“Which cell is Kosma in?” Asked the Jailer crossly. One of the guards pointed to the last cell on the left side, and the Jailer, Boleslav and Cornelius hurried towards it.
With shaking hands the Jailer unlocked the door, and with a creak, swung it open.
Cornelius immediately entered, Boleslav right behind him. Even the idea of hiring a criminal seemed good if it were to save his children.
The Jailer followed hesitantly, drawing a short sword from his belt.
“Kosma!” Cornelius called into the gloomy cell.
From the shadows something stirred, and Boleslav could’ve sworn he saw two burning green eyes floating around.
“Show yourself this instant.” Commanded the jailer.
Shuffling footsteps, and out of the dimness, stepping into the weak light, came the tall, thin figure of Kosma the murderer.
Long black hair framed his thin, pale face. His large green eyes, outlined by long black eyelashes, blazed with fire, and his cheeks were hollow. A thin black moustache drooped over his dark red lips.
He couldn’t have been older that twenty-one.
Even in his current state, Boleslav could tell Kosma was a strong man, and an air of intelligence hung about him.
“Cuff him.” The jailer instructed, as the two guards moved in.
“What, has my execution time come?” Asked Kosma nonchalantly. His tone was mocking.
“Sadly no…” Muttered the jailer, as the guards securely cuffed Kosma’s hands together.
The prisoner eyed Cornelius and Boleslav warily.
“Who are these two oafs?” He inquired, and was smartly whacked across the face by the jailer.
Cornelius stopped him. “Time is of the essence. We must hurry. Expect a letter from me regarding the King’s opinion.” Cornelius said, and a shiver passed through the jailer.
Kosma watched all this with avid interest, although he still didn’t know what was happening.
Boleslav saw the jailer had purposely made the cuffs too tight, and now they were cutting into Kosma’s thin wrists, though he gave no sign of pain.
Boleslav momentarily was lost in thought…could this hardened criminal save his children?
“Stas and Bronka, my dears. Hold on a little longer.” Boleslav silently begged, as Cornelius finished scaring the guards and jailer into letting them go.
“The jailer looks relieved to have Kosma out of his sight.” Observed Boleslav, doubt flooding his mind.
Cornelius was handed the rope connected to Kosma’s wrists.
“If he gives you any trouble…I’d advise using this.” The jailer showed a knotted whip.
Cornelius disgustedly pushed it away.
“Barbaric practices are something I don’t approve of.” He hissed, as the jailer blanched and scooted back.
Kosma smirked.
Cornelius started down the upper corridor, Boleslav and the criminal friend in tow.
They met Dobrosława and Sigismund by the entrance, and without a word (it was too dark to really talk), they went up to the door.
It seemed to open horribly slow for Boleslav…
* * *
Hope you like it.This is seriously spur-of-the-moment,so its not really edited.
Last edited:
SeaStar
New member
Hope you like it.This is seriously spur-of-the-moment,so its not really edited.
It sounded great to me.
Now, I wonder if this Kosma character is going to agree to save the kids or not.
That's quite a good idea, very nice
SingingDryad~
New member
The Basilisk....may i remind you-is partly blind.At the rate these characters are going, the Basilisk can take a nap, watch a movie, go shopping in a mall, and still make it back to kill the children before anyone intervenes.
Not only that,there are MILES of tunnels under Warsaw.The odds of the Basilisk coming up on the children the same day is 1-100,Coppefox.
As i mentioned earlier,this is sorta a random,stupid scribble,so yeah...
(p.s.I know my style sucks,same as the plot.)
Copperfox
Well-known member
I'm not saying that your style OR your plot are bad. If something like your story really were happening, there doubtless WOULD be delays in getting anything done about it; and--which is my real point--the delays would be agonizing for those who had something at stake, and there would be a dread likelihood of the children dying before any help could reach them.
N
narnia56
Guest
SingingDryad~, thats an AWESOME story!!
Post more here....pls.
Post more here....pls.
SingingDryad~
New member
Copperfox:No,i'm not saying you criticized me(although,for a wannabee-writer like me,criticism helps in improving.),i'm just pointing out a few things....like the stuff i need to work on.
Plus this story REALLY wasn't edited.I just got and idea and improvised.
Narnia56:THANK YOU! Updates are coming up...and you'll see the Mirror Armor.
),i'm just pointing out a few things....like the stuff i need to work on.Plus this story REALLY wasn't edited.I just got and idea and improvised.
Narnia56:THANK YOU!
Updates are coming up...and you'll see the Mirror Armor.