Ebby Flint and the Sword of Sorrows (Book 1 in the Artis Trilogy)

Are you there Dad? It's me, Ebby.

Chapter Eight - Are you there Dad? It's me, Ebby.

Lenhi leaves me in the dungeon and goes to continue on with her chores. The dungeon looks like it's straight from a movie set. Everything is now made up of stone rather than white marble. I follow one of the guards down the stone hallway. Every few meters, there are torches on the walls lighting up our pathway. Shadows jump between each stone. Water seeps throughs the rocks making everything slightly damp to touch. Whispers and loud cries come from behind each door as we pass them. I can't even think of my father living down here. I've been down here for only a few minutes, and I already feel like I'm going crazy.

I've been trying to think of what I will say to my father when I see him, but the task is too hard. What do you say to a man that claims to be your father from a magical world? Judy Bloom never prepared me for this.

I can't help but feel slightly angry toward him. I know it's not his fault for being an absent father. I can't be mad at him for not being there when it was the King who punished him to live the rest of his life out in a dungeon. It's just that he's missed so much. Fifteen birthdays, school graduations, dance recitals...

Of course, I had Terri and Derek there, who I miss all too much right now. I wish Terri could be here to give me advice. She would know what to say or what not to say; she always does. I wonder where they think I am, or if they even know I'm gone. Has anyone contacted them from their vacation in Italy? I hope they don't know that I'm gone yet. I can't imagine what I'm putting them through. They probably think I ran away, or worse, that I'm dead.

The guard comes to a halt in front of a large wooden door. There's a small window in the door which is encased in metal bars. He pulls out a rusted set of old metal keys and puts one in the lock. The door clicks open, and the guard makes space for me to walk through. I take a few steps into the beaten down cell. There's a white cot chained to the side of the left wall. On the opposite end of the cell is a wooden bucket. I can only imagine what that was used for. Inside, a dark shadow looms in the corner of the cell.

"Hello, I'm..." I whisper. My voice shakes, and I stop talking when a face snaps up to mine.

Black, shaggy hair awkwardly hangs over a long, worried face. Glittering blue eyes, the same as mine, set well within their sockets, anxiously stare into my own eyes. A full beard and moustache compliments his cheeks and leaves him looking disheveled. A sword left a mark stretching from just under his right eye, running down toward the right side of his cheekbone and ending on his chin.

This is the face of Rowan Flint; this is the face of my father.

"Eboni," he whispers, more to himself than me. His voice is raspy; like he hasn't spoken in a single word in years.

A loud slam comes from behind me. I turn around to see that the guard has closed the door on my father and me. I can see the guard standing on the other side through through the small hole in the door. I turn back to look at my father who is now standing a foot taller than me. We stand in silence; neither of know what to say. I suddenly regret my decision to wear a gown. I'm to clean down here and feel out of place. If I had gone with my pyjamas, I would have fit in more.

My father takes a step closer to me, and I blurt out, "I actually go by Ebby now, not Eboni. You're Rowan?"

His brow creases, and I know I made a mistake by calling him his real name. It just feels too strange to calls this guy, Dad. He's a stranger, not my father. The only man I've ever called Dad was my foster parents, Derek.

The silence continues to beg on. I stand there awkwardly trying to look anywhere but my father. He watches my every move and ever so slightly moves closer. He raises his grimy hand to reveal nails embedded with dirt. He picks up a piece of my blonde hair and slides it between his fingers.