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Alex thought it odd that nobody else on the train even seemed to notice it had stopped. He realized it must be part of the magic that enabled Nicky's people to move between the two worlds without apparent notice. Momentarily, the train went on, leaving him alone on the platform in the abandoned tube station. He smiled at the thought of the agent wondering how Alex had simply vanished off the train while it was moving in a tunnel.

Alex looked around the station, trying to remember where to go. There were two ways out of the station and into Nicky's labyrinthine world. He knew there was a lift somewhere and he decided that would be the easiest route. He just had to find it. He decided to follow the Way Out signs and see if that worked. A few moments later he was staring at a dead end with no means of egress readily evident. He retraced his steps and went to the other end of the platform.

Twice, trains flew through the station while he searched. The third train pulled in and slowed down. He looked at it with a mixture of fear and anticipation, hoping nobody would get off the train. Fortunately for him, no one did. He realized that he'd have to hurry, though. At some point, someone would get off one of the trains. Finally, he found the lift. It was just off a stairwell. He pressed the button and waited. The lift came, and along with it, quite a bit of noise. Alex got on.

He wondered if MI6 were smart enough to plant a tracking device in his shoe or something like that. He'd seen it done enough in spy movies. He supposed that even if they did, it probably didn't work down here.

He realized, as the lift doors closed, he didn't have a plan that covered meeting people. He had to find Nicky somehow. Well, no stopping the plan now, he thought as the lift came to a stop at the bottom of the shaft with a loud thud and a disconcerting sound of fatigued metal. The door opened, and he stepped out. He wasn't quite sure where he was, but he vaguely recollected he needed to go left. At least he thought so, as he headed down the corridor trying, unsuccessfully, to remain quiet. His footfalls echoed loudly.

He decided to give up the pretence of stealth. At this point, anyone nearby knew he was here just from the cacophony of the lift. He went on, and came to a junction. There was definitely more light coming from the downward sloping corridor, and since downward was where Nicky was likely to be, that's where Alex went. Ahead of him he saw familiar territory: the main tunnel entrance to Nicky's world. He absently wondered if Nicky's world even had a proper name. He hoped he'd have the chance to ask.

He decided the best approach would be direct and forceful. He wondered if this would get him in more trouble or let him past the guards. He didn't suppose it mattered. Even if the guard arrested him, he'd be taken in.

He went up to the guard and said, "I'm here to see King Vonamoor."

"Is he expecting you?"

"I imagine he would be, though I may be just a bit early."

"I think I recognize you," stated the guard.

"Perhaps. I came in here with Nicky a few weeks ago."

The guard furrowed his brow, trying to remember, but made no other outward reaction. This reassured Alex, because it meant that the problem with him wasn't known, and even the problem with Nicky's quest wasn't known, or at least well known.

"Well, I definitely remember seeing you in the presence of the prince. I suppose you can pass."

"Thanks. Can you direct me to where I need to go?" Alex thought to himself it was just like giving the fox the keys to the henhouse.

"Simple. Go straight down, and make the second left. There's a guard. Tell him you have an appointment downstairs."

Alex walked past the guard and into Nicky's world. He couldn't believe it was that easy. It almost didn't seem right. In fact, it didn't seem right. He passed no more than a few dozen people, and none of them paid any attention to him at all. It didn't make any sense.

He could see a few major corridors that intersected where one could make a turn, and he supposed it was the second one that the guard referred to. Indeed, when he got there, as soon as he made a left, he saw the guardhouse a few hundred feet further on. He realized he'd have been better off deciding in advance exactly what he was going to say to get Nicky off the hook, but it was too late for that now.

He went up to the guard and said, "I've an appointment downstairs."

"Indeed? Are you quite sure?" asked the guard.

Alex thought the guard's inquisitive and forceful reply was a bit unusual, but he couldn't see anything out of the ordinary in his immediate surroundings, so he replied. "Yes, I'm sure."

"Very well," said the guard, and he blew a whistle. In a matter of seconds Alex was surrounded by guards with spears and swords pointed at him. "In the name of the King, I place you under arrest."

"I don't understand."

"It was clear you didn't belong here. We also can't let anyone back out. So, in the interests of security, we have any number of traps set for strangers. Usually they're triggered by a certain sequence of words spoken by someone," replied the guard smugly.

"Damn. Damn. Damn. For a smart guy, I can be pretty fucking stupid," Alex realized. He was appalled when the guards' reactions told him that he had just said that out loud. Further inspection of the guard revealed that they were very likely ceremonial guards as their clothing was far too fancy and new-looking to be soldiers. They all had either a spear or sword. Though no swordsman himself, Alex could clearly see that these weapons would not fare well in a fight. They were highly decorated, even on the hilts. It didn't appear the swords were balanced for fighting, but rather served solely as decoration.

"Yes, it does appear that way," said the guard nonchalantly. He signalled to the other guards, and two of them came forward while the others fell back.

"We're going to chain you so you don't run."

Alex didn't reply. He just sighed and held out his arms.

"Not your arms. You don't run with your arms."

"Whatever. Will I be in a cell with Nicky? Can you at least do that? Or near him?"

The guard squinted at him, and roughly pulled him aside. "What do you know of this? Nobody outside of the guard is supposed to know of this. Speak! NOW!" commanded the guard with the sound of death in his voice.

"It's my fault he's there."

"Oh! So, you're the boy? Well, isn't that grand?" he said, and then turned to the other guards. "Put him in the cell across from the Prince. I'm going to call the Exarch."

"Yessir, Captain, sir! Right away, sir!"

Alex felt a sword point dig into him. It was not enough to hurt him, but enough to ensure his compliance. Obviously the guards were not threatened by Alex, and he knew they were right. He wasn't a threat. Not to anyone.

A set of chains was placed around his ankles. Alex couldn't believe it. He felt like a criminal. After an instant of reflection, he realized that to these guards he was a criminal. He was fighting back nausea, fear, and unbridled terror all at once. He couldn't believe it and the reality of it all came crashing down upon him. He struggled to hold back tears, fearing what the sign of weakness might cause his captors to do. After a few tugs on the chains by the guard, Alex was nudged forward with the tip of a sword, and he found he could walk if he shuffled his feet. He'd never make a getaway in these things.

The guard led him down a maze of twisty passages, all alike. He knew he'd never be able to find his way out unassisted. Soon, he was in a straight corridor with eight doors. The doors were made of wood banded with rusty steel. Each door had two small windows. The larger window was at eye level and was for the guards to observe the prisoner in the cell. This window was crossed with bars spaced no more than an inch apart, and fitted with a solid steel plate that slid across them, so the window could be closed. The plate had no lock because there was no need.

The second window was at floor level, and Alex realized it wasn't a window at all. It was a slit at the base of the door so a tray of food could be slid underneath. It was covered with a hinged flap that was spring loaded so it was always shut, as Alex found out later when he pushed at it. The bottom of that plate had what appeared to be razor sharp teeth, which he supposed were to keep someone from putting their hands through.

"How many people are imprisoned here?" inquired Alex.

"Not that it's any of your business, but only two once you're locked up. We don't keep people here very long. You're either dead or free. Or waiting to be one of the two," replied the guard matter-of-factly. Clearly he didn't care which category Alex was in.

The guard stopped and said, "Would you prefer to be next to the Prince or across the hall? I've got no preference. It's all the same to me."

"Might as well put me next to him. It'll be easier to talk that way."

"If talking's what you're about, I'll put you across from him. I'll leave your window plates open and you can talk that way. But, if I hear you, I'll come shut both of them. I dislike being distracted."

"That's fine. I'll accept that."

"Bollocks! You're an insolent one. As if you have a choice in the matter." The guard opened the cell door. "There's a pallet on the side and there's a privy hole in the corner. We don't coddle our prisoners, so you won't be comfortable. One meal a day until you get cut loose or killed. I'm going to stand you in the room and you're going to put both hands on the wall. I'm going to unlock your leg irons. If you move before you hear the door shut, I'll kill you on the spot. Do you understand?"

Alex gulped, barely able to speak, "Yes."

Alex leaned forward and put his palms flat on the wall. He saw there were marks where his hands and feet should go. He positioned himself, and allowed the guard to undo the leg irons. He heard the guard backing away, the sound of dragging chains accompanying him. He heard the door shut, but he still didn't move because he was so afraid.

"You can move now," said the guard through the door.

"Um, where's my stuff?" asked Alex, looking about.

"It'll be brought to you after it's searched."

Alex almost said thank you as an automatic response but he bit it back. He didn't want to thank them for returning what belonged to him. "Fine."

"And don't make a lot of noise. You'll be sorry if I have to come back here to shut you up," said the guard brusquely as he walked away.

He waited until he heard the outer doors shut at the end of the hallway before calling for Nicky. He shouted in a hushed voice, something he was surprised was even possible. "Nicky?"

There was no answer.

"Nicky?" he said a bit more loudly, but still there was no answer.

"Nicky!" he shouted insistently. He was disappointed to get no reply. He dared not shout even louder, lest the guard come back.

He sat down, and observed his surroundings a bit more. Now that the guard was gone he noticed it was considerably darker. He supposed once the guard shut the outer door, less light made it in. He heard the scampering of tiny feet, and he wondered if it was mice or rats. He didn't like the idea of either. It struck him that it could even be something worse, though what that might be he didn't know. The cell was made of stones held together by solid masonry work. Alex noticed the privy hole in the corner, and as he went near it, was assaulted by the stench. He backed away. Except for a thin, rough mattress there was nothing else in the small, dark, stone room.

He wondered where Nicky was. It was clear by implication that he was in the cell, yet there was no answer. He started thinking about what it could mean. He realized that perhaps Nicky didn't want to see him. He had never considered that possibility and he felt quite the fool. He had just thrown away his life to save someone who didn't even want to see him. Great. What a fool I am.

Alex became despondent as he sat there, sinking deeper and deeper into a funk as time slowly passed. He really wished he had his CD player, but they hadn't returned his belongings yet. He didn't know if he'd ever get them back. Part of him didn't care, but part of him did. It was a stupid thing to worry about when your life was at stake, but he couldn't help himself. Alex began thinking about the past, while only a few weeks; he looked at it as his days of innocence, and even ignorance. He thought he'd rather have continued to be deceived by his perceptions than to see the truth. Deception is often easier for the soul to bear than truth. Alex was miserable. He wanted to cry, but he wasn't even sure he remembered how. That thought made him even more unhappy.

He heard noises from the corridor, and soon more light filtered in. He could make out muffled voices. There was a voice at the door, "Stand back where we can see you. Make no sudden moves."

Alex stood up, but kept away from the door. A guard walked in carrying Alex's bag, and put it on the floor. "Your things are in here. You'll find it's all there except for one item that was removed."

"Removed?" shouted Alex forgetting he was talking to an armed guard. Had he paused to think, he'd have realized arguing with an armed person isn't usually advisable. "What did you take?"

"I'll answer that, young man," said a second voice.

"Kneel before the Exarch."

"Oh, fuck you," said Alex, before he realized what he said. It was only a short second later before he was knocked down with an agonizingly painful blow to the stomach. He didn't even see it coming, nor did he see what hit him, but he was sure it was a concrete baseball bat with a protective lead coating. He gasped for breath, writhing on the floor.

"When I say kneel, you will do as I say," insisted the guard. "If you want to live, the rules are simple. Obey immediately or die. You get one warning, and that was it." Another guard came into the room, presumably as backup for the other guard since the teen was apparently going to be troublesome.

Alex was reeling. The strike had been very hard. It was plain to him that they didn't care if he got hurt, or worse. Alex had never thought it was a game, but now the point had come crashing painfully home. Real, primal fear crept in and chilled him to the bone. He realized that he could very likely die here without ever seeing anyone he knew again. He also understood that if he died here, nobody from up above would ever know what happened to him.

The Exarch stood, waiting for Alex to get up, or perhaps waiting for him to kneel. He wasn't sure, but since his head was still spinning Alex just lay there in shock. He felt a bit nauseated, but it slowly passed, perhaps hastened by the fact the guard was now flicking at him with the point of a sword. "Get up," the guard commanded. Alex wasn't sure which guard it was, but he realized it didn't matter.

Alex got up, but he couldn't make it up beyond a kneeling position. Although it wasn't his intent to kneel, it appeared that way to the guards who visibly relaxed. The Exarch looked at Alex quizzically. "Young man, one doesn't use profane words in front of me."

Alex tried to stand, but was only on his knees, with his back straight. He couldn't quite get the energy to get upright. "Why not? Who are you?" demanded Alex. He was rewarded with another blow from the guard, and this time Alex saw the truncheon just before it hit. This time it was not as painful, but he wasn't sure if it was because he was already in pain or because the blow wasn't as hard. When he fell, he hit his head, and felt a bit woozy. He vomitted, spewing forth like a geyser. The pain was unbearable and his head started to swim, and he had trouble catching his breath. There was no effort made to help him or offer him comfort.

Finally, Alex was able to get back up, albeit very slowly, and with a great deal of pain and effort. A trickle of blood began to run out the side of his mouth. He wasn't sure if it was from when he hit his head, or from the blows from the truncheon. He knew he might have some internal damage and no chance of a doctor to fix it.

"I am the Exarch. I am the head of the Church here, much like the Pope in your world." The Exarch knew that the more power it seemed he had, the more likely he would get what he wanted without a fight. "I make the law, I run the church, I even command the church's soldiers, and I perform every action with the consent and authority of the King himself. In short, young man, your life is in my hands."

"Er, no disrespect, but isn't that up to the King to decide?"

"You would see the King?" inquired the Exarch, wondering why this mere boy would seek an audience with the King. He knew the law of this kingdom demanded a condemned person could speak with the King in person and plead his case.

"Yes, I would see the King. I would speak with the King."

"And what do you think the King could do for you that I could not?" queried the Exarch, hoping to dissuade this unexpected intruder.

"I don't even care what the King, or you, can do for me. But, I can do something for him that not even you can do. Your King needs me," stated Alex, putting as much emphasis on his wording as he could. He knew he was toying with an early death.

The Exarch's eyes glazed over and he squinted. It was a very evil-looking countenance, but Alex didn't back down. He could tell he had hit a home-run. The Exarch was clearly thinking of how to circumvent this turn of events. Before he could think of a way out, Alex continued, "I can give him back his son."

Not only did the Exarch betray a slight bit of surprise with a sharp exhale of his breath which made an almost comical whistling sound, but the guards openly gasped. The Exarch spun on his heel and demanded, "Why should I believe that madness?"

"I have no idea. Why don't you ask the guards? Maybe when the King finds out he had a chance to save his son and didn't get that chance because you didn't let me speak to him, you and he can discuss it." Alex wasn't feeling too well. He knew his life was still on the line here. He had unconsciously made a decision to save Nicky even though it meant giving up his own life in return. It just didn't matter to him anymore. He felt something for Nicky and he was going to do what was right regardless of the cost. It didn't matter if anyone else knew what he would do, because he knew. This was not, to Alex, an act of nobility but an act of propriety and pure friendship. Alex was going to perform the most unselfish act of his life and it might have the unhappy coincidence of being the last act of his life.

The Exarch was furious, but he didn't let it show. This child would be dead either by his hand or the King's. What difference was it to him? Although he was distressed by the boy's insolence, displeasing the King would have far more serious and potentially fatal consequences, for not even the Exarch was above the King's command. Besides, there were two guards in the room, two more in the hall, and possibly the Crown Prince himself, all as witnesses to the exchange. He knew which battles to pick, and this wasn't one of them. Let the child win the battle because he certainly had already lost the war.

"I've not the time for this nonsense. Your things are in the bag, except for the CD player which isn't allowed. Your message will be sent to the King. He will grant your audience or not, as is his whim."

"Thank you, sir," said Alex. Alex didn't kneel or show any other signs of respect as the Exarch left nor did the guard chastise him.

It was a matter of seconds before he heard the doors slamming and the darkness invaded anew. Alex was alone again, sitting with his thoughts. After a bit, he noticed a tray with a meal had been slipped under the door. One of the guards must have done it just as they left, because he didn't notice it earlier and he hadn't heard anyone else come in.

He wasn't sure if he could eat. Although the bleeding had stopped, he still had the iron taste in his mouth. He was in terrible pain from the blows to his stomach. Each breath hurt as it caused his abdominal muscles to expand and contract. The reality of the situation terrified him.

Yet, Alex was hungry. He took the food and ate it slowly, deliberately, and carefully. It was a bland, boring meal with very little flavour except for the aftertaste of the blood in his mouth. There was a pasty, brown stew with chunks of a meat-like substance with carrot mixed in, or what might have been carrots before becoming orange mush. There were some green splotches that were almost certainly peas in their former life. It didn't really matter because all the different mushy colours tasted of the same nothingness. There was also some dark bread, though Alex's teeth had a hard time breaking through the crust. His only utensil was a spoon. He didn't expect anything else.

After he ate, Alex went through his belongings, feeling violated that his things had been touched by strangers. He didn't have any weapons or anything of value, nor did he suppose they cared about the latter. Alex realized his belongings didn't really matter. At some point the King would call for him, and then he'd set his plan into motion. After that, nothing would matter.

Suddenly, Alex heard a voice.

"Alex?"

"Alex? It's me, Nicky."

"Alex. Answer me, please. I'm sorry."