Sink: Once Upon A Time

by Perrin Briar

  “But… how?” Lord Maltese said.

  “How could I outwit a simpleton such as yourself?” Lady Maltese said. “With great ease, as it turned out. How could I outwit the nitwits living in this town? With even greater ease. The real difficulty was trying not to lose my own wits in this place.”

  The locals watched the scene like it was the climax to their favorite play. They were silent, gawping as the scene unfolded. The main players were the lord’s family, the most revered family in the whole town. To watch this play out was both fascinating and heartbreaking at the same time.

  “But… why?” Lord Maltese said.

  “Because on the surface, my whole life I’d been a nothing,” Lady Maltese said. “There’s no way I was going to let myself be a nothing down here too.”

  “But you’re an engineer,” Lord Maltese said. “The things you can do… You could have been famous.”

  “And still looked down on by my social superiors,” Lady Maltese said. “There is always somebody better. Never forget that. There is always somebody better to look down on you and sneer. I wasn’t going to put up with that any longer. I was going to be top dog down here, and no one was going to stop me from doing it. No one.”

  “But how couldn’t someone recognize you for who you were?” Zoe said. “Someone would have noticed someone new turning up here. Just like they all knew we weren’t from here originally. Especially someone in your position—as a lady.”

  “Which is why I had to be so careful,” Lady Maltese said. “The hardest part was getting that first job. Almost all work comes by reference. And so I had to befriend some of the locals, for them to assume who I was, who my family were. But that couldn’t last forever. I needed something more solid, more concrete if I was to climb the social ladder.

  “But my story actually begins far from here, up on the surface. You can’t know what it is to want more than you have—really want more than you have—when you have nothing to begin with.

  “You are right, I was an engineer on the surface. A good one, as it turns out. But I was nothing more. I wasn’t a wife, a mother, nor even a daughter after my parents were taken from me in a car crash the previous summer. I met men, but they used me and then became disinterested, wishing never to see me again. I was about ready to throw it all in, to toss myself off the building I was then working on. But there was a builder who spoke to me, talked me down. He smiled at me. A warm smile, and I was captivated by him.

  “He took me to dinner, not at expensive restaurants—he couldn’t afford it, but I didn’t care for food anyway. I slept with him. And he was still there by the next morning. We saw each other often. And then, one day, he stopped calling me. I met him on the building site, but he was terse.

  “I later found out the other builders knew about us, and he was embarrassed because I was his boss. I told him it didn’t matter to me, that only he mattered, that I loved him. But it didn’t matter. He’d already made up his mind. He wouldn’t see me again.

  “I was so embarrassed. I thought he liked me. I felt a flash of anger then, not at myself, which was usually the case, but at him. I wanted to kill him, to stab him in the chest and tear out his heart just as he had torn out mine! It was the first, but certainly not the last, time I felt such powerful emotions. I wanted the ground to swallow me up, and it did, though not right then.

  “I was making my plans to gut him. I had my knife and I was going to blindly stab him in the chest while no one was around. I was going to tear him to pieces, but it wasn’t to be, as, the night I was waiting for him outside his local drinking hole, I stood in wait in the shadows, and just when I was going to make my move, I felt a sudden pang of guilt.

  “Could I do this, I wondered. Could I take someone’s life? And I hesitated. But it did not change my mind. I could do this, and furthermore, I would do it. I would do it in a way that they would write about in the newspapers, and I didn’t even care if I was caught. But I never got to carry out that first act of vengeance. The ground opened up and swallowed me whole.

  “I ended up here, in this backward world. I was depressed when I first arrived, not recognizing it for the opportunity it represented. I dug, using tools when I could, my hands when they broke. I was demented with desperation. I thought I’d been punished and sent to hell for what I was planning on carrying out. Then I realized just how much of an advantage it could prove to be someone from the future.

  “I wiped out an entire family in order to fill that blank space of my backstory. I became Judy, the eldest daughter of a poor family on the outskirts of town, the only survivor of a savage attack. The town will remember the murder of the Moseleys. Ostracized and forgotten by this town, they provided me with the ideal opportunity to set myself up as a part of your town. I’ve always had a skill with accents, not that it ever proved more useful than a cheap party trick in the past. But now, finally, it might be of use.

  “The townsfolk turned on each other, eventually finding the killer in the mad but harmless local Potty. He wasn’t guilty, of course, but he fit the roll of a savage killer easily enough, especially when I gave them the eyewitness testimony the prosecutors so desperately needed. And then it was a simple matter of hanging him. In my quieter moments I find myself thinking I saw the flash of realization in his eyes as the rope tightened. But of course, he was unable to speak, even without the rope around his neck.

  “Potty was quite mad, useless to the town. He became like a mascot. I did everyone a favor—including the luckless Potty—by having him put down. And in his death, I was reborn. I was given the position of chambermaid in the noble Marsh family’s castle, who took pity on me. It matters little how lowly a position one holds at the beginning of a career, I find. It matters only how lofty a situation one ends up.

  “And there was only one position I had my eye on: that of lady of the town. And I saw my opportunity in the ridiculous, but well-meaning clause that haunts every lord: that any member of the town may take the lord’s position. But there was a catch, if one checks the small print. Anyone wishing to ascend must at least be married to a noble of sufficient rank. It was a wrinkle, but a minor one.

  “I was struck with luck as I had a more than passing resemblance to the daughter of Lord Marsh. Even the young Lady Marsh noticed. She used me on several occasions to dress in her clothes and attend events as herself, events she had no interest at all in attending. She never knew she was lining the innards of her own coffin when she did that.

  “I took full advantage of the situation and used the opportunity to practice my impression of the young lady, even going so far as to assume her mannerisms and speech patterns. She was more than thrilled with my performance, and even gave me pointers on how I might improve. I did not require her directions. I pretended to incorporate them in any case. It’s remarkable how people see themselves in comparison to how others really see them, don’t you think? It’s always likely to be less flattering than one expects.

  “And so, there I was, with the means and ability to take the young lady’s position and social status. What is a young ambitious lady to do when so freely given the tools she requires to carry out her plans? The wealth and power I’d always desired were close at hand. The young lady met her end with the sharp business side of a shovel.

  “A small, but tender funeral was held for the unfortunate Judy Moseley, the last of her name. She had lived more in the past year than she had the previous thirty. Now it was the young Lady Marsh’s turn.

  “My new adopted mother recognized something different about me, of course. She was born with more brains than her daughter. But she also recognized the need for someone to take her daughter’s place, or else have to wait another generation and hope her daughter’s offspring wouldn’t be as dim as her own.

  “Real change never comes from within. It comes from outside, from the ostracized, from the downtrodden. Because someone, eventually, rises up and tells everyone what they don’t want to hear, what they don’t want to know. And sometime
s they say it without even needing to open their mouths at all. The lady knew that. Though she never condoned it, she never punished me either.

  “Next, I needed a partner. My surrogate mother introduced me to many men of noble birth and I found them all to be powdered boys, not men. The town would look to a man, a real man. He needed the appearance of a tough leader, even if he wasn’t one. And he needn’t be of high birth. I could now provide the required title. It took some convincing on my part for my new mother to accept, but eventually she acquiesced.

  “I discovered my future husband in the stables. I’d know him for quite some time when I was a chambermaid, though we never conversed much. He was a hard worker, his silhouette chiseled, and I admit I felt more than a stirring of my loins whenever I looked upon him. Yes, it was partially for selfish reasons that I chose him. I bedded him to ensure he knew what he was doing between the sheets—the one requirement I needed of him.

  “I decided to play the role of the shy girl who shows her true colors only in the bedroom. It was a stereotype, but as we all know, stereotypes exist for a reason. It worked like a charm. And when he began to come to me, at first creeping in through my window at night, I rationed out what I did to him, so he would always be thinking about what he would receive next time, and the next time, and the time after that, until eventually he was wrapped around my little finger tighter than a worm on a hook.

  “Convinced he would do whatever I bid of him, I told him I loved him, that my heart was full of him and I needed to have him as my husband. He had his reservations, but he agreed. We were going to challenge the lord for control of this world, when I realized we would not have won the support we required if we wanted to overthrow it and bring it under our power.

  “And it was then that he came, a dark angel. A cloaked figure, who promised me I could achieve everything I wanted, and more. He would provide me with the need for a new lord to arise, and in return, he wanted me to work on something for him. A piece of machinery. I agreed.

  “The next day, we heard tales of a monster coming from the caves and snatching people in the middle of the night. And as time went by, it became clear: there really was a monster. And it was then that I realized what the cloaked figure had done.

  “He said he would provide the town with a need to change our leadership, and that was exactly what he’d provided. I needed to upgrade the monster of course, but that was easy enough. The hardest part was fitting it to the great beast. But after some work, I finally figured that out too.”

  “But the monster,” Bryan said. “How did you control it?”

  “Anything can be taught to do anything,” Lady Maltese said. “A lion to dance, a baboon to sing, a snake to fly, so long as you give them the tools and enough will. Anything is capable of anything.”

  “I can’t believe this,” Lord Maltese said. “I won’t believe it.”

  “Believe it,” Lady Maltese said. “It’s the truth. I’m not the victim anymore.”

  “Lady Maltese, please,” Lord Maltese said with a haunted expression on his face. “You’ve achieved so much down here with us. I’m proud of you, of everything you’ve done. You can come back to us, you can come back to me and our family. Everything will be all right again. Please.”

  Lady Maltese reached for the lord’s outstretched hand, and then she turned and saw the expressions on the faces of the townsfolk. There was no way they were going to let her get away with what she’d done. The murders. The lies. The mayhem. She would be strung up and decapitated.

  Shouting in the corridor snapped her from her reverie. Clacking noises like weapons striking the walls. What it could be, Bryan had no idea, but he knew it couldn’t be good.

  “You’re right about me, of course,” Lady Maltese said. “But you made a grievous mistake when you brought all the people here today. Doing so meant you left only a small skeleton force on the walls to defend us. Or should I say my skeleton force?”

  “Mother…” Abigail said. “Please. Take me with you.”

  Lady Maltese’s resolve seemed to break, only for an instant, but it was there. And then it was gone, like dust in a strong wind. It may not have existed at all.

  “You are no longer required,” Lady Maltese said. “You have served your purpose. Goodbye. And farewell.”

  “Mother!” Abigail said. “No! Please!”

  The doors to the great hall burst open, and skinny figures stepped into the light. The townspeople screamed. These things, like many other things of late, were not from this world.

  44.

  THE FIGURES stepped into the warm fuzzy light of the candles burning on the walls. The townsfolk took a collective step back and a deep breath in. The figures wore grins, many missing teeth. They held an amalgamation of weapons in their tight fists, chipped and worn, bloodied and dangerous already.

  They were skeletons, with blinking red lights acting as their beating hearts. Bryan recognized them as the skeletons the dragon had stripped of their flesh and left to hang on the line. There had been dozens of them, Bryan recalled. And here they all were, reanimated and brought back to life.

  One of the skeletons took a step forward, his bones rattling and making crunching noises. His movements were not smooth, but jerky and uncontrolled. He turned his head to one side and peered menacingly at the locals.

  The locals reacted the only way any sane person would have: they screamed and scattered, running for the doors to either side of the room. They worked together to shift the heavy lumps of wood. But opening them was a mistake, as even more of the rattling skeleton soldiers stepped forth.

  How had these things been reanimated and told to come here? Bryan thought. During Lady Maltese’s whole monologue she had never mentioned she had an accomplice. And Bryan didn’t believe she had one now. Which meant it must have been some kind of device on her person that allowed her to contact and control her undead soldiers of fortune.

  Bryan looked Lady Maltese over. She was decked out in jewelry. It could have been anything she wore, anything could be used to control these undead characters. Bryan eyed her, watching her, to see if she touched any of the jewelry on her person.

  Bryan ran for her. Lady Maltese leapt off the dais and landed amongst the people. She pressed at the amulet hanging from her neck. Bryan could see that by pressing the jewels on its surface they acted like rudimentary buttons.

  “Someone stop her!” Bryan said.

  Lady Maltese grinned. She turned and ran among the commoners, who seemed more afraid of her than the undead soldiers, pulling back. The former lady ran through them to a side door and out into the corridors where her skeleton warriors were arranged in uniform lines. The skeletons parted, making room for her to pass through, before closing the gap behind her.

  The braver individuals among the locals stepped forward to engage her but they were too slow, pulling back and skidding to a stop before the skeleton warriors, who didn’t budge an inch. The people needed a leader. Bryan turned to Lord Maltese.

  The lord sat on the side of the dais with his head in his hands, his legs hanging over the side. He was broken and destroyed by his wife’s revelation. He would be of no use to any escape attempt they made. Worse, he might be a hindrance. Bryan felt a hand on his shoulder.

  “Don’t worry,” Roland said. “Despite all my mother has done, she would never allow the common folk to be hurt by these skeleton warriors of hers.”

  A reanimated corpse lurched forward and, armed with a wicked scimitar, sliced open the large belly of a thick-chested man. Roland removed his hand from Bryan’s shoulder, clearly shocked.

  “It appears she has fewer scruples than you thought,” Bryan said.

  Roland turned pale. Bryan gripped him by the shoulders.

  “Your father is a broken wreck,” Bryan said. “You have to take charge.”

  “Right,” Roland said distantly. “Uh, what would you suggest we do?”

  “Tell the people to grab armor, chairs, anything, and use them as weapons,” Bryan
said.

  “Right,” Roland said. “Good suggestion.”

  He straightened up and addressed the moaning locals, who were distraught at what faced them.

  “As the eldest and only son of the great lord-” he said, his voice barely audible.

  “Just hurry up and do it!” Cassie said. “Stop wasting time!”

  She ran to a wall and pulled at a sword attached to a decorative display. It thunked to the floor, but was thankfully not just for display purposes. She tossed one sword to Roland and kept the other for herself. The rest of the family did likewise, grabbing at weapons held by suits of armor.

  Roland looked at his sword and held it above his head.

  “People!” he said. “Hear me! Today we face a demon more deadly and dangerous than anything we’ve ever faced before! You must fight if you wish to survive. The time for peace is over. We must vanquish these foes and send them back to hell where they belong!”

  The locals pushed their chairs over and snapped the legs off. They turned to face the skeleton soldiers, homemade cudgels in hand. Others leapt onto the dining tables, kicking off the empty plates set for the evening meal.

  The guards were slow in reacting, but now they were stepping up to the plate, facing the skeletons headon. They were afraid—their training certainly hadn’t prepared them for this—but they were ready to do what needed to be done. Their job was to protect, and that was precisely what they were going to do.

  “Men!” Roland said. “Let’s send these bags of bones back to hell where they belong!”

  He ran forward, his sword raised.

  From that moment, all hell broke loose.

  The skeleton soldiers moved in an awkward, disorienting manner. Their joints were loose and seemed to stretch farther than they were originally designed for. Their faces were terrifying, lit by the red pulsing glow in their chests.

  But they lacked the training the guards had with their weapons. Whatever knowledge and skill the previous occupants of the bodies had before was no longer in their possession. They were no better with their weapons than the untrained locals were, but they had an advantage: they were not incapacitated with fear.