Genesis (Prophecy Rock Series, Book 1)

by T. Sae-Low

  “Ophelia, be a dear and feed me some more grapes.”

  “But we’re all out of grapes, beloved, how about a nice juicy apple instead?” replied Ophelia meekly.

  “If I wanted an apple, I would’ve asked for an apple, now go find me some grapes or I’ll ask the Minotaur to pay you a visit.”

  The notion of a meeting with the Minotaur was most unwelcome. Ophelia stared blankly at Aric, but only for a moment, for she knew better than to stare at him longer than that. The last girl who had lost her temper with Aric simply vanished. The official story was she had run away, but those who lived within the castle walls knew she had been sent to a meeting with the Minotaur down on level three of the dungeons. Any person sent to level three was given a death sentence whether officially decreed or not, and Aric had no qualms about issuing such a command on a whim.

  Ophelia quickly looked away, glancing down at the floor. “Yes your highness, I will return shortly with your grapes,” and with that she scampered out the room in search of the most precious bunch of grapes she could ever imagine.

  Aric watched her blonde hair bounce and reflect off of the torches in his chamber. He chuckled to himself, amused by her sudden burst of energy. He turned his attention to the red headed beauty resting upon his left arm. “Melody, dear, did you see the look on her face when I mentioned the Minotaur? The fear in her eyes was comical.”

  Melody laughed her high-pitched giggle that could be heard from the siege towers to level three of the dungeons. Most of the occupants in the castle found it painfully annoying, but Aric seemed to enjoy hearing Melody laugh. Not because he found it charming, but because he found pleasure in watching her make a fool out of herself.

  “She looked as if a ghost had walked right through her!” exclaimed Melody as she threw her head back, long red hair flowing everywhere. “She should’ve known that you were simply jesting my beloved.”

  “Jesting?” whispered Aric into Melody’s ear. But it wasn’t a warm whisper spoken between lovers; it was cold, sharp, and sent a quiver of fear running down Melody’s spine.

  “If you think I was jesting, then perhaps you’d like to visit the Minotaur as well.”

  Melody’s boisterous personality subsided within an instant as she softly replied, “Forgive me your highness, I meant no disrespect.”

  Aric’s cold fingertips caressed Melody’s face before raising her chin so that their eyes met. Dread consumed her, unable to predict what machinations were running wild through his head. She tried her hardest to stare back; only Melody noticed that he wasn’t staring at her at all. She followed his eyes as they gazed right past her. She slowly turned around, noticing the sword hanging off the table behind her. Her throat went dry.

  “Do not ever speak to me with disrespect again, Melody, for I—”

  Bang! Bang!

  “What is it?” Aric exclaimed.

  “My lord, we have a situation,” shouted the guard.

  “What is it that requires my attention at this hour of the night?” responded Aric, clearly exasperated by any notion of more work for the day.

  “We caught a prisoner attempting to escape from his holding cell, your highness.”

  A cruel smile appeared on Aric’s face. He turned back towards Melody. “And now you’ll get a chance to see what happens to those who disrespect me… beloved.”

  Aric grabbed the sword off the table and flung the door open. “Take me to this trash.”

  “My lord, right away.” The guard led them down the empty hallway, the sound of heavy boots hauntingly echoing off the cold stony walls.

  “Melody, come along; I think you’ll enjoy this next part.” Melody tried not to show any signs of nervousness as she quickly followed Aric down the hall and to the holding cells below, but found the deceit to be an arduous task.

  The three of them made their way down a spiraling staircase to the first entrance to the prison. The gate patrol noticed Aric and quickly stood at attention.

  “Open the gate, Prince Aric wishes to see the escapee,” exclaimed the guard.

  “Yes, sir!” answered the two soldiers. Quickly, they cranked the levers on both sides of the gate, forcing the gate to split apart down the middle. The heavy iron doors were six inches thick and so well built that not a sliver of light or a sheet of paper could fit between any of its crevices. A loud bang signaled that the doors were completely ajar and the three of them made their way through.

  The gate opened up onto a single bridge. The bridge was about five feet wide, narrowly designed so as to prevent any groups of prisoners from easily escaping. Prisoners were much easier to kill if they lined themselves up to be fired upon. Each side of the bridge was closed off by barriers that were adorned with strings of metal, tipped with razor sharp blades that looped across the entirety of the bridge. Spears jutted out from both sides of the bridge in a confusing disarray of hopelessness for any escapee. If somehow they managed to get over the strings of metal and over the protruded spears, the only way out from there was down. The bridge stood two hundred feet above a pit that was so dark that many referred to it as an empty void of the Creator. The hole had been the original site of the Vicedonian castle. But as the kingdom grew from conquests, the castle and the royal residences had been moved to the top of Mount Syphax. With nothing but an empty pit remaining, King Maximus decided to move the prison here, utilizing the natural barrier to prevent any possible escape.

  As they made their way across the bridge, Melody noticed guard towers on opposite sides of the bridge, spaced about twenty feet apart. Prison guards stood at the ready, crossbows drawn and aimed directly at her head, or so she felt. She couldn’t see their faces, their mysterious nature adding to her already disheveled state of mind. The Minotaur was given complete autonomy of the prison and dungeons, only required to report to the royal family. Even the regular castle guards avoided the Prison Unit. They rarely spoke, and the only emotion they exhibited was when their yellow eyes glowed brighter as they focused in on executing prisoners. She felt the stabs of their eyes as they followed her across the length of the bridge. She closed her own, hoping to avoid their stares, but that only made the stench of the fog rising out of the pit even more unbearable. It reeked of rotting carcasses and sewage, a stench so foul she felt nauseated, but was able to hold her dinner down just as they made their way to the entrance on the other side of the bridge.

  Two prison guards stood at the ready, dressed in darkened steel, and with jagged plumes of yellow mounted atop green and black helmets. The Vicedonian symbol of the letter ‘V’ superimposed over a faint lambda was etched onto their shields, axes gripped tightly in their opposite hands. Not an inch did they move as the trio walked past them, but Melody’s fear overtook her. In her hurry to bypass them, she inadvertently bumped into Aric. Aric stopped, slowly turned towards his right, and before Melody had a chance to apologize, the back of his hand was already across her face. Smack! As the pain swelled in her cheek, she could see that Aric had already turned back towards the officer and was making his way down a flight of steps. Her options were limited; stay here with the prison guards or follow Aric. She quickly caught up to him, but made sure she stood an arms length away now.

  The first floor of the prison housed the holding cells. All prisoners were stationed here before being sentenced by the Minotaur, or in more significant cases, judged by the royal family themselves. Level two was where most prisoners of war and minor offenders were kept. They could sometimes be seen performing manual labor in and around the prison. Some prisoners appeared healthy, well nourished and even stronger than prior to their arrival. It was these prisoners who could also be seen in the warrior pits, performing for the guards, guests, and royal family during celebrations and holidays. They enjoyed a bit of celebrity and fame, and were allowed certain accoutrements during their incarceration, but knew better than to defy the Minotaur by trying to escape.

  On the other hand, there were the prisoners who were horrifically emaciated, barely able to
walk, but still required to pick up tools to plow or quarry stone. Needless to say, these prisoners did not last very long and were the unfortunate targets of frustrated prison guards. The only other place they could be seen was hanging off the sides of the bridge, failing in their escape attempts.

  Level three was known as the Dungeons. Anyone sentenced here was never seen again. Only the most ruthless criminals and most important prisoners of war were kept within this level. Few have actually seen the dungeons, and the rumors of what happens there proliferated. From man-eating dragons, to cannibalistic spirits, to the rulers of the Black were said to reside in that place. Not much was known, and that’s the way the Minotaur liked to keep it.

  They made their way down to the holding cells. Small aisles branched off from both sides of the main hallway and led even further down into the depths of the prison. The guard walked forward. “He’s the fifth one on the right, your highness.”

  Aric’s hand slowly made its way towards the handle of his sword that hung across his back. He unsheathed it and let the tip of the sword drag across the stone floor, creating small sparks and an unnerving screech that forced Melody to cover her ears. Her nostrils filled with a dampness that exuded desperation. She tried her hardest to stare at Aric’s feet in front of her, following him step by step in stride. She thought seeing what dwelled in these cells was making her knees weak, but deep down she knew it was the idea of seeing Gunther that filled her with thoughts of betrayal.

  “Melody…” whispered a voice from a cell on her left. She stopped dead in her tracks, still facing downwards. It couldn’t be him, it just couldn’t be, she thought. Her head began to turn towards the voice, and before she knew it, something had grabbed her left arm and pulled her against the cold steel bars.

  “Hey girly, aren’t you a pretty—”

  Aric’s sword moved so swiftly that all Melody could see was a severed arm still clinging to her. The prisoner wailed from the pain, cursing and screaming. “I’ll kill you, you piece of filth!”

  “End his incessant crying, it’s getting on my nerves,” Aric ordered the guard.

  With a click of his crossbow, the moaning ceased. The officer turned around to the cell behind him. “Here we are, my lord, the prisoner who tried to escape.”

  He had witnessed the entire incident and was already on his knees begging forgiveness for his transgression. “Ppplease… your hhhighness… I won’t evvver try to escccape again… I don’t knnnow what I was ttthinking,” he stammered as spit flew from his lips.

  “No, I know exactly what you were thinking, Anahuac.” Aric crouched down, staring eye to eye with the prisoner.

  “You thought you could actually escape from here, and somehow… miraculously, by the divine intervention of whatever heart-eating god you worship, make your way back home. Or even better, perhaps seek shelter from your Renzai allies out East.”

  “Nnno sir, I was only tttrying to find sssomething to eat, I pppromise! They don’t fffeed us in here, and I haven’t eaten for dddays.”

  “Open the gate.” As the officer searched for the correct key, the clanging of each key sounded like a death knell to the prisoner. He was an Anahuac warrior, fighting alongside the Renzai Empire in the Disputed Lands. Their alliance had gone back a decade, when the Renzai agreed to assist the Anahuacs against the encroaching Pilgrims of Fate from the north. The stipulation being that the Anahuac Empire would become an outlying colony of the Renzai. Tazoc, the Anahuac ruler, worried that he would lose his people regardless, bent his knee to Emperor Zero. Together they quelled the northern attack and the Anahuacs had been indebted to them since.

  As the officer swung the gate open, Aric grabbed the prisoner by his long braided ponytail and lifted him up to his feet. Garbed in a dirt smeared prison outfit, Aric covered his nose and pushed him down a smaller hallway. With the tip of his sword jabbed into the prisoner’s back, they began to move. When they reached the end of the path, the prisoner could see that it opened up onto an outdoor ledge that overlooked the pit of blackness below.

  “You don’t need to promise me that you won’t escape again. I’m going to make sure that it never happens.” Aric drove his sword deep into the Anahuac’s right leg. It cut right through the flesh and scraped the stone floor beneath it. He wrenched it free, and the prisoner fell to one knee. Aric’s right foot thrust forward with such force across the prisoner’s chest that the Anahuac skidded across the platform and clear off the ledge, disappearing into the pit below. Not a thud, nor sound could be heard.

  Melody stared in terror, unable to form any words or thoughts.

  “That, my dear, is what happens when people disrespect their prince.” Aric smiled wickedly as he wiped his bloody sword on Melody’s dress.

  Chapter 5