Forging Truth (The Truth Saga)

by Raymond Masters

  He was still enjoying his cynicism when a horrible series of screams jarred him to attention. The screams were accompanied by a laser lightshow he could make out through his door’s meal slot and porthole. Each one was worse than it’s predecessor. They sounded as if they had come from a woman – or a child, maybe – and they had originated from the cell adjacent and to the right of his.

  It appeared as though he wasn’t the only prisoner, but who else was here with him? Whoever his neighbor was, he or she was being tortured to beat the band. Caduceus briefly thought of Meow Fang, and shuddered. He couldn’t let this continue. How could he stop it from his cell? He began to throw himself against the steel door, trying to divert his jailer’s attention to himself instead. “Hey,” he bellowed over the screams, “Hey! Knock it off! I’m trying to sleep in here!” When no immediate response came, he tried again, “I want to file a grievance with the warden. Get over here and attend my needs, why don’t you!”

  Within a minute, the screams and the crackle from whatever energies were producing the light effects ceased, plunging the cell into silence. “Well, then, that’s better,” he addressed the corridor via his porthole. Caduceus prepared himself for the torturer’s responding visit, but his guest never arrived, however. Instead, Caduceus watched as Aesculapus crossed into view, black robes swirling, and then out once more. In the short time he was in sight, Aesculapus’ attention looked to be a thousand miles away. He hadn’t even acknowledged his brother’s taunts. After his captor’s departure, Caduceus heard a heavy door slam on whining hinges. This was followed by the telltale sound of an orchestra of lock pins firing home.

  4

  After a moment, Caduceus realized he could hear low sobbing coming from his fellow inmate. He had no idea what his brother was up to, but he wasn’t going to sit still, while another human being was tortured or in pain. He shook the cobwebs from his head, and asked, “Excuse me, are you alright?” It was a stupid question, he knew, considering the wailing and gnashing of teeth.

  There was no answer, just an indignant inhalation of air as the crying party realized he or she had been caught.

  Caduceus pressed again; it wasn’t in his nature to give up so easily. “It’s okay,” he said, softening his naturally gruff voice. “I’m trapped here, just as you are. You can confide in me. Are ye hurt? Did he hurt you?”

  He was about to try a third time, when a small but determined voice said, “I’m fine.” It was the voice of a child, a little boy, to be more precise.

  “Son, did he hurt you,” he asked again, ignoring the child’s defensive response.

  “No, I said! I’m fine. He just does that sometimes; he doesn’t mean anything by it.”

  “By what? What exactly was he doing,” Caduceus asked. By now he was fuming. Not only had Aesculapus harmed this boy, but also he had, apparently, visited pain upon him on several occasions. Moreover, the child had learned to rationalize his treatment. It was unconscionable, by any standard.

  “Look, I don’t want to make him angry with me.”

  “Because he’ll torture you some more? You don’t have to worry about that anymore. Not while I’m around. Do you understand me?”

  “What? No, he doesn’t torture me. I just don’t want to make him mad, because I love him, and we don’t want our loved ones to be upset, do we?”

  Caduceus was confused: loved ones? Had his brother adopted an heir? Had he perhaps convinced some woman to bare him an heir? Maybe he had taken on the guise of an attractive, younger man to seduce someone. He had already pretended to be Richard Van Parson, and that kind of power would definitely land a willing participant in-between the sheets. He didn’t want to think of that. Instead, he varied his approach. “You know, I respect that you don’t want to make someone you care about angry, so I do, but if someone you love … ever does anything that makes you feel uncomfortable or causes pain, it’s important you stand up for yourself. The best way for someone your age to do that is by confiding in another adult or friend.”

  “Like you? But … but I don’t even know you.”

  “Well, then, we’ll just have to fix that right now, won’t we? The name’s Caduceus.” Then, allowing himself a pained smile, he added, “My friends call me Ducie. Would you like to call me that?”

  “I … yes, I would like that … Ducie.”

  “Now, we’re friends, and you can feel comfortable talking to me about what Aesculapus has done to you.”

  “Aesculapus? You know him?” The boy was surprised.

  “Yes, I do. Like you, he means a lot to me. We were close once.”

  “So he locked you up, too. To keep you safe, just like he did me.” The boy agreed, making sense of the situation in his own way.

  Caduceus closed his eyes, his rage rolling down his cheeks. “That’s his claim? He’s keeping you safe?”

  “Yes, that is his claim, Mr. Caduceus. He doesn’t want me to get sick, like before.” He grew quiet, then, he added, “He says brothers have to take care of one another.”

  Brothers? So the boy knew about Caduceus’ relationship with their captor. He wondered if that was why he’d been reluctant to confess to him. He would just have to cure him of his reluctance by showing him siblings can be as different as the seasons. “Come on, come on. What did I tell you, hmm? Call me Ducie,” Caduceus reminded him. Then, realizing he had neglected to ask the boy’s name – and Kade had already chastised him for referring to those younger than he was as boy, kid, or any derivative thereof – he decided to rectify his oversight. “And just what do I call you, young sir?”

  “Young sir,” the boy tittered, “I do like the sound of that, Ducie; it sounds so grownup! But I guess you can just call me by my name, if you want. Hi, I’m Seth.”

  If Caduceus’ cell had housed a mirror, or other reflective surface, he could have watched as the color literally bleached from his face and the shock hit home. As it was, however, he was able to gauge his level of surprise by the sudden heaviness of his limbs and the unwillingness of his mind to form anything resembling coherent thought.

  Concerned, Seth asked, “Are you there, Ducie? Did you hear me? You can call me –.”

  “Yeah, kid – Seth – I heard you.”

  He had used the word ‘brother’ earlier, but not referring to Caduceus and Aesculapus’ relationship. No, Caduceus had been mistaken about that one. Boy, had he ever.

  5

  “My God … Seth, is it … Do you … do you know who I am?” Caduceus asked, carefully.

  There’s a pause, then: “Yes, sir.”

  Just how should he proceed, Caduceus wondered. Testing the waters, he asked, “How? How is this possible?”

  “But, don’t you know,” the boy asked.

  Yes, he did know. He certainly did, but he hadn’t thought of that conversation in many, many years. “When I first brought him to my house,” Caduceus said, stirring his memory. “I remember: he said he had done it, he had found a way to cheat death. More than that, he had … he had succeeded in restoring life.”

  “He brought me back from the dead, Ducie,” he confirmed. Then, correcting himself, he said, “He brought me back, brother.”

  “But he said he had only been able to do so with dire and unforeseen consequences. I’m scared to ask … That’s the sickness you mentioned? Aye, I know it. What manner of sickness?”

  “I don’t like to talk ‘bout it,” Seth replied, barely audible.

  “I’m sorry, son, I’m not trying to pry. You don’t have to say another word about it.”

  “I know I don’t, and I won’t, neither.” And for a while, that was the last either of them said to one another.

  Then, after minutes passed – or it could’ve been hours – Caduceus decided to try again. “Listen, Seth, about before, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to rile you so. I was just trying to help. I don’t know what line of bull our brother has been feeding you all these years, but it’s over. It ends now. Whether you like it or not, I’m getting us out of here. I
’m setting you free, Seth.”

  “You don’t get it, though,” he pleaded, trying to get through to his new friend. “You can’t take me with you; not away from here. You can’t. Besides, Ducie, I am free. Free enough, anyway.” Suddenly, the click of a doorknob filled the air, followed shortly by the banging of the door off the outside wall. The antechamber outside his cell reverberated with the echoes of Seth’s footfalls.

  To Caduceus’ further amazement, the child – his brother’s brother – placed his face in front of the food slot, and studied him for a moment with a bemused expression. He had no idea how to continue; instead, he merely waved at the boy from his still-captive position. Eagerly, the boy shoved his arm through the slot up to the armpit, in an offering of friendship. “Nice to meet you.”

  Caduceus grasped the boys hand, marveling at just how dwarfed it was in his own. “Likewise, young sir. Now, how’s about you tell me how you managed that there escape act.”

  “I didn’t really. Escape, I mean. He leaves the door unlocked. He leaves all the doors unlocked. Well, most of the time. He let’s me roam the basement, the asylum, the church, and most importantly, the library. I like it there. I’ve got the run of the place, really.”

  “Yet you refuse to leave? To go someplace safe, some place where you won’t be subjected to electric shock?”

  “Electric shock? What’s that? You mean the lights?” He began to laugh, “No, no, no.” He laughed even harder. Before long, he would draw the attention of Aesculapus.

  Caduceus wasn’t ready for that just yet, so he placed a finger to his mouth. “Listen, let’s not bring our dear brother back. Whadda ya say you open this here door first?”

  Through the slot, Seth blinked twice, and then said, “You can’t open your door?”

  “I haven’t tried, Seth, but somehow, I don’t think so.”

  Seth tugged on the handle, to disprove Caduceus’ pessimistic view, but it was to no avail. “It won’t budge. Why would he lock it?”

  “Buddy, believe me when I say, I don’t have the foggiest, but I sure wish I knew.”

  6

  Through the evening, he had tried several times to coax further details from Seth, regarding what exactly Aesculapus had been doing in his cell – or room, as Seth seemed to insist. Neither time was successful. Ultimately, it had grown dark, and the only light came from the torches, seated in iron holders along the antechamber’s five large columns. These torches seemed to ignite on their own, as the light began to fade from the small windows. Caduceus had no way of knowing the time. He couldn’t see through the windows from his vantage point, and even if he could, he had long ago forgotten how to read the stars. Living displaced from the normal laws of nature and time had taken their toll on him over the years, whether he liked to admit it or not.

  Shortly after dark, Seth said, “Well, Ducie, I guess I’m going to go to bed, if you’re sure you won’t let me talk to our brother for you.”

  Just as often as Caduceus had tried to get the boy to talk, Seth had tried to get Caduceus to let him speak to their brother about allowing him to be able to roam freely through the compound. “No, now, we’ve already talked about this. While I appreciate the thought, I will serve as my own advocate, going forward.”

  Seth tittered – he really did seem to be a happy child – and said, “I like the way you talk.”

  “Good night, young Seth. We are well met. Remember, I’m right over here, if you need anything.”

  “And you, too. Especially since I’m the one who’s not locked up,” Seth laughed again. Caduceus joined in, but honestly, he hadn’t found the prospect all that humorous.

  Since his neighbor was hitting the ol’ hay, Caduceus decided he would, too. Though, he wasn’t convinced he would find sleep that night. Then, the crying started. Caduceus rolled over to face their adjoining wall, and called softly, “Seth: it’s okay, lad. I’m right here. Don’t cry.”

  There was no reply. The boy was crying in his sleep. Caduceus tried a few more times to console him as best he could through a wall of stone, but it was all for naught. Finally, he remembered something that might work: Sleepy Jake. It was a lullaby his mom used to sing to Aesculapus and him when they were young tykes. It had been pretty popular around their hometown, and it had probably been sung to little Seth a time or two, as well. Of course, that would have been the better part of a century ago. Nevertheless, he had to try it. Clearing his throat, he began to hum, and then he seeded words into the melody until he got to the parts he still recalled. Whenever he reached the chorus, he noticed the boy had finally quieted. Caduceus decided to go through the chorus once more for good measure, before settling back for the night.

  7

  At a little past three – though he wouldn’t have been able to tell – Caduceus’ eyes blinked open, and he sprang up in bed, ready to fight. No one had awakened him, but he was sure there was a presence lurking in the darkness. He pulled himself off the cot and stepped cautiously to peer through the door’s porthole. The night was uncomfortably warm, bordering on hot. He had begun to sweat, and his shirt was clinging to him. As he looked into the corridor – apparently the torches had decided to rest along with their houseguests – he flattened himself against the door to try to afford a better view.

  There was no one in sight, though. He had fallen asleep worrying about the boy, and had given himself a night fit for his troubles. Now, here he was staring out his window into the face of paranoia. Nothing out there but the heated air. And the stench, that charnel smell he had noticed, seemed stronger. Probably the heat intensifying it. And it was definitely hotter. It seemed as though it had gotten even hotter since he had been out of bed. Their cells must’ve been pretty close to the old place’s furnace.

  Caduceus headed to bed, satisfied he had performed his due diligence. As he did, however, his pants leg caught on something, and he stumbled forward. He couldn’t make out what he had gotten caught on in the darkness, so he reached down to un-snag himself. His brain tried to process what the obstacle was, which his fingers encountered. Its texture was rough and scaly. As he ran his hand over the object, he registered the intense heat radiating form it. He suddenly had to draw his fingers away to keep them from getting burned. “What the devil?” Being certain not to come under prolonged contact with the thing, he knocked it away.

  He expected to hear it go skittering across the floor – whatever it was – but instead, he was rewarded by the smack of what sounded like flesh slamming into his steel door. This was followed by an outraged screech and a venomous hiss, as some pissed-off something retreated into the darkness.

  Now, he could not – absolutely could not – go back to sleep. He sat vigil the rest of the night, right up until dawn’s rosy fingers crept into his cell, showing he truly was alone. Twice, in the black hours that followed his close encounter, he had believed he had heard scuttling outside his cell. The last time, he couldn’t be sure, but he could almost believe he had seen a pair of emerald green eyes flicker at his meal slot and then dart away. He hadn’t seen, nor heard, anything after that, and the blazing air had thankfully cooled quickly thereafter.

  Now, it was the beginning of a brand-new day. He had to find out just what his brother was playing at, and he had to do it soon. He couldn’t take many more nights like the one he had just survived. He didn’t relish the idea of another visit from the things that go bump in the night. “Not one bit,” Caduceus said. In the light, he could clearly see where the fabric had nearly been burned clean through.

  And the burn pattern was a very specific pattern, unlike the one on his shirt from Bishop’s pointblank energy blast. Caduceus placed his large grapplers’ hand over the burn. It was in the shape of a hand, one bigger than his, but unlike his, this print only showed four digits.

  8

  Caduceus heard the door’s mechanics rustle, as somebody made their way into the room. He got to his feet and stood a couple of paces away from the door. He had learned his lesson about standing any cl
oser. Aesculapus strolled in, carrying a tray of breakfast.

  Spying his brother through the cell door, Aesculapus crowed with delight, “Wonderful, you’re awake! I was beginning to think you were going to sleep your captivity away. And how’s my guest doing this fine morning?”

  During his previous night’s vigil, Caduceus had practiced many numerous grand speeches to use at their meeting, come morning. With the hour at hand, he kept it simple. “How could you? He’s your brother.”

  Aesculapus’ joviality was replaced by a knowing smirk. “Ah,” he said, “I see you’ve met our little Lazarus.”

  On cue, Seth’s door clanked open, and he stepped to their host’s side. As he took their morning meal from him, he grumbled, “I hate it when he calls me that.”

  Addressing Caduceus, Aesculapus stated, “Love can make you do many silly things.” Though he had chosen to retain his form from the siege on Caduceus’ home, he had for the moment shelved his serpentine eyes and hiss. “But this isn’t one of those silly things. This is a good thing, brother. Nay, a great thing.”

  Caduceus shook his head at the vanity of his childhood friend. “You’re not God!”

  “Are you certain,” Aesculapus teased, holding his head high and taking a regal stance. Relaxing, he conceded, “So, I’m not the God.”

  “You’re not even a lowercase god,” Caduceus spat.

  “Well not yet, of course, but I’ve been working pretty hard toward that end.” With a sudden flash, his eyes turned to golden slits. The next instant, they were back to normal.

  The show had been for Caduceus. Aesculapus must keep quite a bit about himself a secret from Seth. Perhaps, he could somehow use that knowledge to his advantage.