Page 88 of King Foretold
The royal guard escorts us to the dungeon without delay. Hailey and I step out of the gamas and join Ethan at the front entrance. The hanok, located on the outskirts of the palace, looks like any number of buildings we passed on our way here. Other than its secluded location, nothing indicates that a dungeon lies within.
Ethan gives the heavy wooden doors a tug, but it’s barricaded from the inside. Jihun and Captain Ha must be with the tyrant, somewhere deep, dark, and far away from the entrance. I doubt they’ll be ableto hear me, but I pound a fist on the door anyway. I yelp when the heavy doors immediately swing open, nearly knocking Ethan and me to the ground.
“I didn’t expect you so soon, Your Majesty.” Captain Ha draws back in surprise, seeing us right outside the dungeon.
“Neither did I,” Ethan says darkly. “We have come to speak with the prisoner.”
“Hailey?” Jihun steps out from behind the captain. “What are you doing here?”
She approaches him and speaks in a low voice. “The kidnappings are spreading like wildfire. Since yesterday, the Jaenanpa managed to kidnap close to a thousand humans. Captain Seo sent me here to get some answers from the former king. Daeseong is preparing to make his move, and we need to find him before it’s too late.”
“Captain Ha, I will stay here with the king and his guests.” Jihun’s expression is even grimmer than usual. “Please proceed with what we discussed.”
The captain nods once at Jihun, then bows deeply to Ethan. He cocks his head at the royal guard who escorted us to the dungeon, and the guard bows to his king as well. Then the two of them walk away without delay, whispering in urgent tones.
“Will the captain help us recruit allies?” Ethan asks Jihun.
“Yes, we have come up with a preliminary plan.” He bends his head close to Ethan’s. “He will first approach the generals and nobles who have openly opposed the tyrant. Their wealth and power have diminished due to their stance, but they are the least likely to expose us. If they choose to join us, then they can help us identify those who not-so-openly oppose the old king and recruit them to our side. We need to be discreet to have more time to gather our allies.”
“I agree. Thank you, Captain.” Ethan claps him on his shoulder. “Now let’s go have a chat with my father, shall we?”
Jihun scans the vicinity before stepping aside to let us through the door. Inside the so-called dungeon, a long corridor stretches out aheadof us. I squint my eyes, but I can’t see very far even with the afternoon light streaming in from behind us. Then Jihun heaves the doors shut and bars them with a heavy wooden plank, plunging us into pitch black.
Hailey throws up a sphere of light, but I still don’t see the end of the corridor. There’s something unnaturally dense and stagnant about the dark. I slip my hand into Ethan’s, and he laces his fingers through mine.
Jihun grabs a torch off a nearby wall, and a flame bursts to life at his murmured spell. Suddenly, the long corridor is nowhere to be found, and a stairwell that curves both up and down stands a few yards away.
“Gods, my mind can’t take much more of this realm.” I’ve never seen magic like this. I can see past glamour. The darkness that shrouded the dungeon wasn’t that. I press a palm against my forehead, then side-eye Jihun. “Where did you learn how to do that?”
“Captain Ha taught me the spell to disperse the dark.” He is annoyingly matter of fact, but annoying and matter of fact are his factory settings. “Let me take you to the prisoner.”
Ethan, Hailey, and I follow Jihun down the stairs, which wind around and around until I feel like a hamster caught in an exercise wheel. Just as I’m about to suggest blowing a hole through the winding staircase to escape the hellish wheel, we reach the bottom, which opens up into a circular stone hall with eight wooden doors around it.
“Where is he?” Ethan’s voice is ragged with anger and conflict, but his face is set with determination. “Which one is his cell?”
Jihun hesitates for second. “The dungeon is designed to hide the location of the prisoner.”
“So you don’t know which door he’s behind?” Hailey asks. “What happens if you open the wrong door?”
“Something very unique and unpleasant awaits you at every wrong door.” Jihun sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I have to perform a spell to find the right door.”
“Go on then.” I blink at him. “What’s up with the long preamble?”
Jihun scowls back, but a flush crawls up his neck. “It’s a ... movement spell.”
Hailey slaps a hand over her mouth and nose, but her snort manages to escape, and Ethan’s lips twitch, chasing away the shadows on his face. I glance back and forth at the three of them, then stare up at the ceiling, praying for patience.
“I’m not even going to ask what that is.” I flap a hand at Jihun. “Just get on with it, will you?”
“I only watched Captain Ha do it once,” he mumbles. “If I get a single detail wrong, it’ll be disastrous ...”
“Quit stalling, Captain.” Hailey gives up trying to hold back her laugh. “You have a photographic memory. You know exactly how to perform the spell.”
Ever the proper one, Jihun doesn’t actually give his lieutenant the bird, but his narrowed eyes unequivocally imply it. He walks to the middle of the circular hall and draws his longsword from the sheath on his back. With a measured exhale, he lowers the sword to his waist with both hands on the hilt, the blade straight up, then he twists the sword until the edges form one thin line in front of him.
He sweeps one leg in a smooth arc, drawing a semicircle on the floor with his foot, and raises the sword horizontally above his head. Swinging and thrusting his sword, he executes some familiar offensive stances. Then his movement picks up speed and becomes a lethal dance of slashing blade and taut, balanced body. I wouldn’t admit this at gunpoint, but I love yoga. And the fluid, graceful movements of Jihun’s sword and body remind me of a masterful vinyasa flow.
But the spell’s similarities to yoga end when every surface of his body begins to glow and his movement quickens until he is a blur of spinning sword and body. It is a stunning sight to behold. Then, the silver light emanating from him concentrates into his sword and travels up the blade until only the tip shines with blinding brightness. In a single lightning-fast move, he raises one knee in front of him and sweeps his arms open, one toward the ceiling and the sword arm toward the ground. When the glowing tip of his blade hits the floor, a line of fire ignites from his sword to one of the eight doors.
