“And this laboratory you mentioned, what is it exactly?” Alexander asked, leaning over him again, intimidating him with every word.
“It’s just a lab. We were conducting research, experiments,” Ben replied.
“And would this have anything to do with the electricity?” Alexander continued.
“What do you mean…” Ben began but the guard struck him again in the face, the hardest blow so far. Ben strained to say what he intended. “I don’t, don’t know what you mean. What electricity?”
The guard raised his fist again, but Alexander stopped him with a look. “Come on, Mr Knight,” he said calmly. “I know that you have knowledge of the electricity. You admitted it yourself to the Regent, before his, untimely demise.” Alexander’s smile widened as he spoke. “Why don’t you start telling me where you got this information from?”
“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Ben said. “Electricity’s just that, electricity. We don’t have to research it. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
This time Alexander hit Ben himself, striking him across the face with the flat of his hand instead of his fist. Grabbing Ben by the scruff of his neck, he pulled him as far forwards as the restraints would allow and spoke directly in front of his face.
“We’ve known for centuries that the electricity is needed to get most of the old technology to work,” he hissed, “and now you come to us and tell us that you can make it? For centuries, the Wastelanders have told stories of a place with the answer to electricity, but no one has ever been able to find it. Now you come here and tell us you were there only weeks ago? Is this another of the secrets those in the Southern Baronies have been keeping from us?”
“No, no,” Ben begged. “I don’t know any more. Please, let me go, just let me go.”
Alexander stepped back, allowing the guard to punch Ben again. Ben was sobbing again as he spoke.
“You can have the dynamo, it’s in the trailer,” he offered. “Take it, just please let me go.”
“Oh, don’t worry, everything that was in the trailer is now mine,” Alexander informed him. “I’m sure I’ll find the, dynamo, did you say, soon enough. There’s just the little matter of this.”
Alexander held out Ben’s pager, which had been confiscated when Ben and his companions were thrown into the cell. “I need to know what it is, and what these numbers mean,” he said.
Alexander pressed the button on the top of the pager, causing the numbers 6479 to flash up in the small window.
Ben’s face was swelling from the repeated beatings, making speech more and more painful, and his voice more and more unintelligible. “It’s a pager, just a message device,” he told him. “They’re commonplace where I come from.”
“What, this laboratory?” Alexander asked. “It’s powered by the electricity though, isn’t it? Now tell me where it comes from.”
“I don’t know, it's mine, I mean I found it,” Ben said.
“It's yours or you found it?” Alexander asked.
“No, no. I found it where I come from,” Ben clarified. “It’s not from here, that’s what I’m telling you.”
The guard hit Ben for the last time, nearly knocking him unconscious. Ben felt his head swim and his vision blur as the cell moved in and out around him.
“Where is the laboratory?” Alexander asked again.
Ben tried to answer, but no words came from his mouth. Alexander grabbed him again, pulling Ben towards him and shaking him violently as he asked his question for a second time.
“Tell me now,” he yelled into his face. “Where is this laboratory you came from?”
Ben was unable to hold his head up any longer, his chin slumping against his chest. The guard supported his head by holding a chunk of hair, allowing Ben to look Alexander in the eye one last time before he passed out completely.
“Don’t worry, Mr Knight,” Alexander reassured him. “These are all questions you will answer, in time.”
With his closing words, Alexander and the guard left the room, closing the door behind them and immersing Ben’s unconscious body once again in total darkness.
VIII
When Alexander returned some time later, two guards accompanied him instead of one. They came to stand either side of Ben while Alexander began his pacing again, circling the chair in slow measured steps as he spoke.
“I’ll ask you again, Mr Knight,” he began. “Tell me who you are and where you’re from, and how exactly you know of the electricity?”
Every word was painful and Ben's swollen lip made everything sound slurred. “I’ve told you everything I know,” he said, “I don’t know what else you want me to say.”
“That’s exactly what I thought you’d say,” Alexander said in a matter-of-fact way before leaving the room with the same measured steps he had used to circle the chair.
Ben prepared himself mentally for another beating as the two guards stepped close to him, but instead on throwing a fist at his face, the first guard grabbed his head and wrenched it back as far as it could go, forcing his mouth open. Ben struggled as much as he could, but the guard was much too strong for him, holding his face steadfast as the second guard forced a handful of leaves down his throat, pushing them all the way back until Ben was almost retching. He tried to bite the man’s fingers, but the first guard held his mouth open, forcing his jaw down towards his chest. Eventually, Ben allowed himself to swallow the leaves just to make the men let him go.
After Ben had swallowed the leaves, the guards left him also, but this time left the door open, taunting him with the prospect of freedom and light. Ben tried to struggle against his restraints once more, but his arms and legs were too weak to have any real effect on the straps. Within a matter of minutes, his arms were so weak, he was unable to move them at all.
Ben turned his attention towards the light in the doorway as it shimmered first towards and then away from him, growing brighter and then dimmer as he strained his eyes to pick up on any details.
A shadow leapt from the doorway to attack him, slashing at his face as it passed his shoulder. Ben tried to move out of its way, but his body was so weak it refused to move at his commands. He opened his mouth to scream, but the sound came much later, from outside of himself, outside the door maybe.
More shadow creatures moved along the floor, creeping slowly towards him as though trying to escape the light from the doorway. Ben tried to make his legs kick them away as they leapt up at him, climbed his chest, and snapped at his face before jumping from the back of the chair to wherever they were going.
Ben could hear his heart pounding in his chest like a drum, getting louder and faster with each beat, slamming against his rib cage as though trying to force its way out of his body. His stomach churned and wretched and he felt the sour burning of acid in the back of his throat before it ran down his chin to drip in slow moving droplets on his lap.
With another wretch, Ben’s body convulsed, pulling him forwards against his chair as he coughed and spluttered against the leaves moving up to the back of his throat. Another convulsion and he was thrown backwards, taking his chair with him and striking the back of his head on the cold hard stone floor beneath his feet. He felt the pressure of the blow, and heard the crack rush into his ears from all four corners of the room, but his sense of pain was gone.
Upon hearing the crash of the falling chair, Alexander followed the two guards into the room and instructed them to pick the chair up and return it to its original position. Ben’s face looked deathly white as more of his stomach contents dripped down his chin, his expression absent, as though his mind had gone somewhere and left his body behind.
Alexander instructed one of the guards to support Ben’s head as Alexander spoke to him, holding his nose to try and protect himself against the smell.
“I’m so sorry it came to this,” he said pleasantly, “but I’m sure you understand.”
Ben heard the words, but they seemed to come from far away and as thoug
h underwater, bubbling through the ether to reach him. He coughed and spluttered again as he tried to speak.
“Well, I’m glad to see you’re coming around to my way of thinking,” Alexander continued. “I’m going to leave you for a little while, let you think about what I said. I’ll be back soon, when you’re a little more . . . agreeable.”
Ben coughed an almost intelligible word after Alexander as he left, spitting more fluid and leaf pieces to the floor around his feet. Alexander smiled back at him, his broad beaming grin looking to be a foot wide in Ben’s distorted vision.
“Oh, don’t worry,” Alexander said as he reached the door, “I’ll leave someone here to look after you, to make sure you don’t do anything foolish, like die. That’s the only trouble with these methods; you never know how much to give.”
The guard released Ben’s head, allowing it to slump down to rest on his chest, the two men laughing as they followed the Regent to stand guard at the door. The sound of the men's footsteps echoed around Ben’s ears as he lapsed in and out of consciousness.
By the time Alexander returned, Ben’s nausea had receded and the pain from his jaw was gone. He still lacked the strength to move any of his limbs, but that no longer seemed to bother him. As he saw the Picasso-like image of Alexander enter, he forced himself to raise his head and look Alexander in the eye.
“I’m glad to see you’re still with us,” Alexander announced.
Ben coughed and spluttered as he spoke, his words barely intelligible. Alexander understood him all too well though. “Still here,” he coughed, spitting saliva to the floor, missing Alexander’s feet by inches.
For a moment, two copies of Alexander stood in front of him, swimming and swirling around his field of vision before slowly merging once more into one discernible shape. Ben felt his head sway to follow them as they shimmered.
“We were having a little chat before, if you remember?” Alexander asked. “The laboratory?”
Ben no longer had the strength to support his head, letting it fall heavily to his chest. A guard stepped up behind him and again supported his head with a healthy handful of hair.
“The laboratory,” Ben was able to say, drool sliding down his chin.
“That’s right, Mr Knight,” Alexander continued. “I want to know everything about it. Firstly, I want you to tell me where it is.”
“The laboratory,” was all Ben was able to say again as he tried in vain to focus on the Regent’s face.
“Yes, the laboratory. Where is it?”
Before he realised what he was doing, Ben was telling Alexander everything that was asked of him, and for all of his mental struggling, he was completely unable to stop himself. The Regent only stood there and smiled, gently rubbing his hands together as new plans formed in his mind.
IX
Peter returned to his home just before nightfall, finding Carl sitting in a chair, helping himself to Peter’s whiskey. Carl looked decidedly odd without his hair or beard, his face taking on a childlike quality if not for the angry scar.
Peter shook the rain off his overcoat as he entered, before hanging it beside the door and smearing his sopping hair back with his hands. Carl almost leapt to his feet as he heard the door close.
“Losing your touch, Carl, or is it just the liquor slowing you down?” Peter asked, looking down at the glass in Carl’s hand.
“Eh, no, I was just,” Carl stammered. “Look, it doesn’t matter. Where have you been all this time?”
“Getting us some information,” Peter replied. “I might not have any authority over the personal guard, but that doesn’t mean I’ve no friends there. Seems like they handle their beer as well as you do. It only took a couple of pints before they were telling me everything I wanted to know.”
“And what did you want to know?” Carl asked.
“How many of your friends are alive and how we get them out.”
“Tell me more,” Carl said as Peter came and sat opposite him, gladly accepting a drink of his own.
“It seems your friends, Matthew, Catrina, and those close to them are being held with the Baron’s daughter beneath the palace,” Peter began. “The rest of the prisoners are down there with them, in a separate part of the palace dungeons. The people I spoke to didn’t know any names, but I don’t think that there were many of them. I’m sorry, Carl.”
Carl dropped his head at the news, vowing revenge. He had been with the Road Trains longer than most, and knew all of the people travelling with them as friends, someone to share a drink with on a cold evening, or someone he could count on to cover him when things turned bad. If he really thought about it, most people on the trains had probably saved his life once or twice, as he had theirs, and now they were reduced to a few survivors locked away in a foreign land for a crime they had nothing to do with.
As he listened to the rest of Peter’s plan, Carl watched his fists open and close as the anger within him grew.
Peter continued, “Here it is, Carl. I can get us in, no problem there, but once we’re in, there’s ten or twelve guards or more, armed and just itching to start killing. I tell you, the people out there tonight, you’d think we were halfway to Draxis already the way they’re speaking. I doubt there’s a man in the city tonight who isn’t sitting cleaning a sword or gun.”
“How many with us?” Carl asked, not looking up from his fists.
“That’s the problem,” Peter told him. “I’ve got friends, sure, but I couldn’t tell you who’s loyal to Alexander and who isn't. I really don’t want to risk finding out tonight, though, if I can avoid it. Once we get down there, we’d be on our own.”
“So what are you saying?” Carl said.
“Look, Carl,” Peter continued, “someone needs to warn the Baronies that they’re about to be attacked. Neither of us wants this war to happen, but I think it’s going to happen anyway, regardless of anything we do. I don’t know, maybe I can slow them down or something, get more people to listen. There’s got to be others out there who see this new Regent for what he is. If enough of us speak, maybe the armies will start listening.”
“You said yourself, Pete,” Carl replied, “people want this war. I bet even those that do suspect the truth don’t care too much about it. They’ve got a better enemy to hate now.”
“So how do you think getting you and your friends killed beneath the palace is going to change that?” Peter asked. “At least if you went south, you could warn your people, get them ready.”
“No way,” Carl insisted. “Like you said, they’re my friends, and to tell you the truth, they’d do it for me, whatever the odds. With or without you, Pete, I'm going down there, so if you don’t start talking quick, I’m going to end up using the front door.”
Peter rubbed the back of his own head in frustration, tightly working his fingers through his thinning hair as he went through strategies in his head. “You know what, Carl,” he told him, “you really get on my nerves sometimes.”
For the first time in minutes, Carl looked up and met his gaze, his steadfast expression complemented by a wry smile. “So what’s the plan then?” he asked matter-of-factly.
“For a start, we’re going to need more than that pea shooter you brought with you. You’d better come with me.”
X
The guard escorted him into the room, bound at the hands and feet, purposefully tripping him up as they crossed the threshold. The man landed flat on his face, unable to protect himself.
“Thank you; you can leave us now,” Alexander said to the guard, dismissing him before Alexander helped the prisoner to his feet. He sat the prisoner down in the chair beside his antique wooden desk.
“I’m glad to see you didn’t get yourself killed this morning,” Alexander began, sitting down himself on the other side of the desk.
“I put on a good show for them, but I surrendered before they got around to shooting me,” the prisoner replied.
“Yes, I can see by the black eye,” Alexander replied, “but tha
t doesn’t concern me now. I have another important task for you, if you’re interested?”
“If it’ll get me out of that stinking cell, sir, I’ll take it,” the prisoner said.
“Good, good. Now tell me, do you know one Benjamin Knight; he was travelling with you?”
“Oh, yes,” the prisoner said, laughing to himself, “I know him. What about him?”
“Now, where to begin, where to begin.”
Alexander outlined his plan, explaining every intricate detail and ensuring the prisoner understood his role before calling for the guard to return him to his cell. A moment after he had left, another member of the personal guard knocked before entering the room.
“You wished to see me, Regent?” the guard asked.
“Yes, I did, didn’t I. Tell me, sergeant, how many men do you have guarding the prisoners?” Alexander asked dismissively.
“Just twelve, sir, at present,” the guard replied. “Why, do you wish me to increase it?”
“What? No, no of course not,” Alexander told him. “I want you to halve the number of guards. I have a very important job for you and your men to do.”
The sergeant just stood there for a minute, staring at him unbelievingly.
“Well,” Alexander continued, “what are you waiting for? Get to it.”
The sergeant bowed before leaving Alexander alone in his office, trying to think of an important task that he could send the guards on to keep them busy, and then the perfect answer dawned on him.
XI
“What are we taking that antique for?” Carl asked as Peter pulled the crossbow from the wall and slung it over his shoulder. It was cumbersome with the automatic rifle and the oil filled lantern already swinging from his other shoulder, but Peter made the best of it and turned to Carl with a smile.
Knightfall - Book 1 of The Chronicle of Benjamin Knight Page 13
