Marysvale

by Jared Southwick

  “How fascinating,” Lord Wright said pensively.

  “Enough of the charade,” demanded another elderly man. “He’s done nothing but lie. We’re wasting our time playing these games. Let’s get on with it.”

  A few of the others nodded their heads and murmured approval.

  “Yes,” said Lord Wright, “I quite agree. Let us get to the crux of it all, shall we?”

  I felt confused.

  He continued, “We have brought you here because our leader has taken quite an interest in you. After much deliberating as a council, we are prepared to offer you a rare gift.” He paused for effect. “We would be pleased to have you join us.”

  Now I was even more perplexed. Is this some kind of trickery? I thought. I looked around the room; the others were quiet with stone faces.

  “But why?” I asked, unable to keep the puzzlement out of my voice.

  “Oh, come now,” countered the feeble, old man. “Surely you can think of a reason why. Despite what Lyman thinks, you can’t be that daft.”

  I could think of a reason why. But there is no way they could know about my gift—they don’t even know who I am, I thought.

  Lord Wright read the expression on my face. “Ah, I can see it comes to you.”

  My mind raced. How do they know?

  They waited. I said nothing, mostly because I didn’t know what to say.

  The old man broke the silence, “It is an admirable quality to give up nothing; but it only works when the other party isn’t aware of what you are holding back. Good heavens, man, we know about your special talents.”

  Stunned, I asked hesitantly, “How do you know about that?”

  They laughed.

  “There is no need to play stupid with us,” stated the old man. Then, addressing Lord Wright, he said, “Merrick, tell him the best part of our offer. Perhaps that will jog his memory.”

  Lord Wright continued, “We know that your abilities have increased over the years, and that they can grow even more given proper guidance. Just think of the possibilities. With your talents, there is nothing we cannot conquer.” A lust for power filled his eyes and his voice quivered with excitement. “Imagine all that will be ours. No enemy can hide from you; every strategy employed against us will fail. The weaknesses of our foes will be easily plucked from their minds and exploited. Under our direction, and with you commanding our forces, we will be unstoppable.”

  “No!” cried Lyman, leaping to his feet, his face flushed with rage. “That is not what was agreed.”

  “Sit down,” demanded Lord Wright, rising to his feet.

  Lyman did no such thing. “I will not serve under his command,” he shrieked.

  “It is not up to you!” bellowed Lord Wright. “You will do as we say. This is not open for debate.”

  “He is an imbecilic fool of a lower class and a coward,” ranted Lyman, his voice getting shriller.

  The anger inside me boiled over, and I stood up forcefully, sending my heavy chair to the floor in a loud crash.

  The thought came to me that I may be making a mistake, but I quickly shoved it out of the way with the images of Lyman shooting Mr. Wolfe, his old body hitting to the floor, and the blood pooling around him. I thought of Jane and Hannah, who likely had no idea that their father had been brutally taken from them.

  The room grew quiet; all eyes fell on me. I even had the attention of the warring father and son.

  “Let’s discuss who the coward is, shall we?” I said icily and full of contempt. I continued, “Who is it that murdered Michael Wolfe?”

  “He was attacking me,” snapped Lyman.

  “Attacking you?” I laughed. “Was it when he was standing there unarmed? Or was it when he spit on you after you shot him in the leg?”

  “I do not have to explain myself to a foul-smelling, stupid pig like you,” he spat, and gave a dismissive wave.

  Mockingly, I jabbed, “So let’s see if my slow, stupid mind gets this straight. The mighty Lyman Wright, with a squad full of trained soldiers, was overwhelmed by an old, unarmed, defenseless man. You poor thing, how did you survive?”

  Then, throwing all caution to the wind, I twisted the verbal knife deeper and added spitefully, “No wonder they want to replace you as commander.”

  It was too much an insult for him to handle, and his face contorted with rage. He let out a bloodcurdling cry, withdrew his sword, raised it above his head, and charged.

  Chapter Eighteen: Naehume

  CRIES and orders for Lyman to stop erupted from the men. I calmly stepped away from the table and faced my enemy.

  He streaked across the short space between us, eyes wide and filled with pure hatred. Drawing close, he began to slash down with his sword.

  That’s when I moved. Spinning a quarter turn sideways, I rocked my torso back, brought up a cocked leg, and kicked out hard. The bottom of my boot viciously made contact with Lyman’s face. His head snapped back; and teeth, blood, and spittle flew from his mouth. More blood spewed from his nose. The sword sailed from his hands and clattered to the floor with a metallic ring; at about the same time, he landed on his back. Moaning, he slowly rolled over onto his knees and rocked, while clenching his nose in an attempt to staunch the bleeding.

  I turned, expecting to incur the wrath of the council. To my surprise, only a few wore scornful expressions—most were amused, and some even appeared happy and entertained at the show.

  “Well done,” said the old man gleefully, obviously one of those who enjoyed the spectacle. “You do have a mean streak in you, don’t you? That can be very useful to us.”

  Lord Wright looked downright murderous, all pretense of kindness gone. “Your decision then,” he said icily. “Are you joining us?”

  I could see they simply wanted my gifts to satisfy their own lustful desires. Joining them wouldn’t change anything except make them more powerful. I hated the way they treated the people of the town, their lawlessness, and their joy in my crippling Lyman. They had no loyalty, not even to their own. It didn’t take me long to reply.

  “I’ve seen the misery you’ve bestowed upon this town; and the thought of helping you spread that despair is revolting to all my sense of decency.”

  “Think about what you are saying,” said the old man, now not so merry. “You have just struck a superior officer, which carries the penalty of death; joining us will negate that fact. If you refuse, you will die.”

  I shrugged my shoulders. “So be it.”

  “Such a tragic waste of your gifts,” he sighed. “But if it must be so, then I’m sure Lyman can arrange a fitting end.”

  “Before you go,” said Lord Wright. “We simply must learn all that you know.”

  “I’ve told you everything.”

  “Liar!” he yelled. “You have deceived us this whole evening. Did you really think that changing your name would disguise your identity? Do you truly believe that such a childish trick would fool us?”

  “I have no idea what you are talking about,” I replied evenly.

  He slammed his fists down on the table, making the dishes bounce. “We all know your name is not John Casey—it is John Stone! Good heavens, Lyman was right; you really are a dolt!”

  I closed my eyes for a moment, reeling at his revelation. Could what he said be true? Or was this just another trick?

  Opening my eyes, I found Wright studying my expression, his demeanor suddenly changed from rage to amusement. “She was right. You really do not know anything, do you?”

  I said nothing. My mind was racing, trying to figure out what everything meant.

  “Well, I suppose then this wasn’t a complete waste of time. After all, we had to be sure.”

  “Who was right?” I asked weakly.

  “Why, your aunt Sarah, of course. She said she did not tell you anything of importance, which surprises me just a little. Still, it is her prerogative.”

  “What else didn’t she tell me?”

  He smirked. “Well now, perhaps you
should inquire of her yourself.”

  The room of men guffawed loudly.

  Their laughter made me angry and, losing control of myself, I snapped, “I know about Naehume.”

  Their cackling quickly died and their faces now wore amused expressions.

  “Ah,” said Lord Wright slowly. “Now we get to it. Please tell us what it is you know and, believe me when I say, you have our undivided attention.”

  Suddenly, I regretted mentioning the name. “All I know is that Naehume is your leader.”

  He chuckled cruelly. “Forgive us if we fail to believe you. Surely, you know more.”

  “I’ve said everything I’m going to say.”

  “We shall see,” he said with a sardonic smile. He addressed Lyman, who was still on the floor. “Are you quite finished licking your wounds?”

  Two servants went over to help him to his feet. He shoved them away and got up.

  Then, Lord Wright clapped his hands and boomed, “Guards.”

  A half dozen soldiers instantly poured in through the door on the right. It would be pointless to resist, so I glared at the lord while my hands were bound tightly behind my back.

  When that was finished, he said mockingly, “Very stoic of you, I am sure. But you see, where most presume death to be the ultimate punishment, I, however, do not. We have learned, through experimentation, that there are many forms of torture and many different ways to loosen the tongue. I have no doubt that you would be able to resist most of them, but not all.”

  He then bellowed, “Bring them in.”

  The same door opened, and Jane and Hannah were viciously shoved inside. Both had their hands bound in front of them.

  “What are you doing?” I demanded.

  Upon hearing my voice, Jane looked up at me, and relief spread across her tear-stained face.

  Ignoring me, Lord Wright continued, “Naehume is most anxious to talk to all of you.” Then he ordered, “Bring them along—you too, Lyman.”

  A smile spread across Lyman’s bloody mouth.

  “NO!” I cried. “I’ve told you everything!”

  “Perhaps,” said Lord Wright, as he strode past. “We shall see.”

  Lyman fell in step behind his father. The soldiers gathered behind us and forcefully prodded us out of the dining hall and through the wide corridors. A lightning bolt flashed through a nearby window, its bluish-white light briefly illuminating the passageway. Occasionally, a soldier gave a hard push—obviously more to intimidate than to hurry us along. A few times, they did it so forcefully that one of the girls would stumble and fall, only to be hauled aggressively to her feet and again driven ruthlessly forward.

  We passed through a door and down a long, sloping corridor. Soon we broke out into a vast, deep natural cavern. Torches lined a wide staircase that was roughly chiseled out of the cave walls. The stairs circled around, in an irregular pattern, as they spiraled down the abyss. Bats squeaked and flew about before disappearing somewhere into the blackness.

  We descended down and around the cavern, until we reached the bottom. From there, we followed a tunnel which finally emerging into a large chamber. A fetid, rotting odor filled the air. Few torches cast a dim, orange light, revealing scattered bones lying about. Multiple sets of chains were nailed into the cave wall, with shackles fastened to the ends. In one pair, the upper half of a long-dead and decaying body still hung. Prison cells ran the entire length of the back half of the chamber. Iron bars were embedded in the stone, extending from the ceiling to the floor. They were divided every so often by more iron bars that ran perpendicular to the far wall. In total, there were five cells. One of them housed more human remains heaped in a corner; another contained a tattered, bloody nightshirt.

  The cave felt damp. A trickle of water could be heard seeping out of the walls. It moistened parts of the floor where moss grew in abundance.

  “Put him in a cell,” ordered Wright.

  A soldier snatched up a large key from a protruding nail on the wall, and opened one of the middle cells. As soon as the rusty iron bars had swung open with a groan, another soldier violently shoved me in from behind, so as to ensure I’d fall; and with my hands tied behind me, there was no way to brace myself. I hit with a thud and slid a foot or two along the grimy floor.

  The cell door slammed shut with a clank and was locked.

  “That will be all,” said Lord Wright. “You may return to your posts.”

  With a salute, the soldiers disappeared back the way we’d come.

  Roughly, Lyman grabbed Jane by the arm and twisted her around. Lord Wright did the same for Hannah. They led them into another dark tunnel that I hadn’t noticed.

  “You don’t have to do this,” I pleaded.

  In the flickering torchlight, Lord Wright stopped, turned, and peered back at me, his face contorted with malevolent loathing.

  “No, no. You are looking at this incorrectly. Of course we do not have to…we get to,” he said venomously.

  He spun around and they continued their march down the tunnel.

  “Wait,” I cried.

  They ignored me.

  A terrible feeling of dread and fear welled inside me. “Wait, I’ll tell you anything.” I pleaded more loudly, panic and desperation cracking in my voice.

  They stopped, and I thought they would return; but it was only to open a door in the side of the tunnel. Dim torchlight streamed out of the opening. The girls were thrown in, and father and son followed. Instantly, both Jane and Hannah screamed in heart stopping terror; and the door slammed shut with a wooden rattle. The wood was apparently thin, because I could hear the men laughing.

  I flung my extra vision open and cast it towards the girls, desperate to see them, though also afraid of what it might reveal. But it was pointless. I couldn’t see through dead material; and rock was certainly no exception. The only way I could even tell my sight was working was from the moss, as it was the only living thing in my field of vision. I let it close.

  Awkwardly, I struggled to my feet and ran, hurtling myself against the cell door. It gave a slight tremor, then nothing. I careened into it again—not a budge, not even an inch. Hauling back and frantic, I charged painfully into it once again. The only sound it made came from the resonating thud that traveled through me as my body collided with the bars.

  I ran to the back of the cell, mustering all the speed I could…

  “It won’t work,” said a quiet, raspy voice. “You will only succeed in hurting yourself.”

  I hesitated, unsure of what I’d just heard. I peered into the dark tunnel. I could hear muffled voices coming through the door where the girls had disappeared to moments earlier.

  “Put your back up to the bars.”

  I looked around. In the dimly lit cave, it was difficult to see or hear where the soft voice was coming from.

  “Over here,” came the reply to my searching.

  Squinting behind me, and into the dark shadows of the cell next to mine, I saw what I had mistaken to be a dead body move. The wounded, grimy figure half crawled, half drug himself into the torchlight.

  I studied whoever it was for a moment as he drew near. In horror, I finally recognized the swollen, bruised face of Sarah.

  ***

  “What…but how did you get here?” I asked.

  She wore the same clothes she was wearing when we’d left, but they were dirty with stained splotches of dried blood. They were also torn and shredded, some probably from torture and some to make strips of cloth to bind up her wounds.

  In a croak, she whispered, “The Brean may not be able to swim or build boats, but men can.”

  “I don’t understand,” I said confused.

  “I never planned on men, only Brean. My escape plan was to flee by boat to a small island where I had built a shack and stocked it with food.” She took a few breaths. “That’s why you couldn’t come with me; the boat wouldn’t carry all of us.”

  Sarah continued, “They were waiting for me when I reached the i
sland. I was captured and brought here for interrogation, even before you arrived. I have been in this dungeon ever since. I’m sorry John, I should have told you more, but I didn’t think they would discover the truth about you. I had no idea...”

  “You don’t have to say any more,” I reassured her.

  She shook her head. “You deserve to know the truth, at least as much as I know. The only reason I was allowed to live in peace was to set a trap for you. They thought you or your father, my brother, would come looking for me. They want you dead, for some reason. They never expected you to make it into the town. When you did, they decided to try and get you to join them.”

  “They told you all this?” I asked.

  She nodded. “They are arrogant and couldn’t help boasting how they had used me. Regardless, I don’t think they intend for any of us to live much longer.”

  A blood-curdling, prolonged scream of pain rent the air and echoed throughout the chamber, followed by sobs and appeals to stop. It was impossible to tell which girl made what sounds. The door did nothing to stop the heart wrenching pleas. It tore through my soul, and I would gladly have traded places with them. It would have been much easier to bear their agony than to sit here feeling so helpless and responsible. If this was the kind of torture Lord Wright had in mind for me, it worked. I would tell them anything to make it stop. Tears poured down my cheeks as the harrowing screams resumed again and again.

  “Give me your hands,” said Sarah somberly. Tears were also streaming down her grime-covered face.

  I put my back up against the bars and her shaking hands fumbled and struggled with the knot before the cords finally fell loose. I sank to the floor and buried my head in my hands.

  An eternity passed before the torturous screaming stopped.

  Dread fell over me. I lifted my head and stared hopelessly at the cold stone walls of the cave, terrified at what was happening in the accursed room. I overheard the sounds of crying and murmuring voices. There was a harsh laugh, followed by scuffling and more sobbing.