by Aaron Bunce
“That’s better,” Spider said, “can’t have you stirring up the livestock.”
Julian pushed his way through the throng of people, finally coming to a stop between two women with tear-stained faces. He watched them, pathetically mute while they sorted the rest. He tried to shut out the soft cries of all those near him, but it did little good.
People piled in around him, pushing him further back in the crowd. He kept an eager eye on Sky, and the other group, his apprehension for his best friend growing as the smaller group of people was herded further off.
Gnarls appeared around both sides of the round platform. They crept forward tentatively, peering out from behind large pillars. Julian couldn’t help but feel that they were waiting for something.
“You all saw the durjj living in the ruins of the city outside,” Spider said suddenly, his rough, ruined voice magnified so all could hear. “They have lived here since helping the old ones kill King Gruteo, and drive the dwarvish scourge away. They have, like dedicated servants, protected this hallowed place. They have captured and killed any who wandered too close to this city since. Treasure hunters, thieves, knights on errand…none that approached this magnificent place were left alive, save for one. That man…who was left alive so many thaws ago…while all those skilled fighters protecting him died, turned out to be the old one’s greatest hero. He resided in this tower for a score of seasons before finally figuring out this ancient chamber’s greatest secret. A secret that many believed King Gruteo took to the grave.”
Julian listened to Spider talk, becoming entranced by his words and held by a terrifying curiosity. He was sure that whatever secret Spider spoke of held the truth of their fate.
“You see, look here,” Spider said moving through the crowd of people around Julian. They moved away from the masked man, repelled by some unseen and unheard command. “Do you see this young woman, so young and strong, radiant and beautiful? Her body, which many men would lust over, would desire for its perfection in shape and form. Even now, cold and still, ruined and opened by the cut of a dozen blade strikes, still radiates beauty. But we are only men, and are tainted by flawed perception. The old ones found something within her they did not like. They rejected her, like so many others, and that is why you are here. All of you, just like this girl here, will be presented to the old ones, my masters. And if you are lucky, then perhaps they will find you desirable.”
“Old ones…” Julian mumbled and glanced around. He could tell that he wasn’t the only one confused.
He glanced quickly over to Sky, who nervously returned the look, and then to the girl lying on the ground.
Will I look like her soon? Lost, wasted…my loved ones never to know of my fate?
Julian tried to visualize Tanea’s face in his mind just as commotion broke out. Spider pulled a man from the crowd and pushed him into the waiting arms of two gnarls.
The creatures savaged the man, tearing at his stained and tattered clothes until he was naked and shivering. He pleaded, begged, and shook his head frantically as they led him up the stairs, but the gnarls growled and gnashed their teeth threateningly, and his pleas faded.
They placed him on the highest step, where he was powerless to afford himself even the smallest semblance of modesty. Julian glanced back to Sky, but his eyes were locked on the macabre spectacle. Julian spun his head back, catching flashes of metal.
The whole of the cavern filled with the poor man’s cries as the gnarls cut and dug the blades into his body. They sliced and opened his flesh in a dozen places. Julian cringed and looked away, wishing he could block out the man’s screams. Blood ran down his body, mixing with urine as he lost control.
“Someone do something!” a woman cried.
“Leave him, please! Mercy,” another cried pitifully, but those requests fell on deaf ears, and the gnarls only grew more incensed by the sight of the man’s blood.
Spider’s men intervened, forcing the gnarls back down the steps before they killed him. Julian watched the gruesome scene unfold, knowing full well that he was headed for the same fate.
Spider’s henchmen took the man to the very lip of the platform, where he teetered precariously on the edge. They fumbled for a moment before his collar came free from around his neck. Julian could see the realization in his eyes, the freedom that came rushing back to his body, just as the two men tossed him bodily into the pit.
Julian clenched his jaw and cursed under his breath, and in his anger he felt his hand twitch. Only two fingers moved, but at that moment it felt monumental.
“Help me! Ah! Help me! I can’t breathe!” the man yelped, splashing loudly.
The gnarls descended and pulled yet another person from the crowd, this time a young woman. Julian instinctively lunged, thinking to come between the creatures and the dirt-smudged girl, but only his arm moved, twitching slightly against his body.
The young woman cursed and bit, but she was powerless to stop the gnarls as they ripped her bare, and then set to the bloody task of cutting and marring her body.
They marched her up the stairs, where they removed her collar. She was thrown in as the first man choked his last drowning breath. As her body disappeared over the edge, Julian caught one last glimpse of her face, and the terror painted upon it.
Julian looked over to Sky, desperate for something, anything to change, and the two friend’s eyes met. The emotion that passed between them at that moment was clear enough, even without words.
Two large gray gnarls proceeded to fish the man’s body out of the pool. They pulled it unceremoniously down the stairs, letting his head bounce off of each step before dropping it to the unforgiving stone at their feet.
Before they could turn back, the young woman abruptly went quiet. She had been crying out about something in the water, her crying almost completely incoherent with fear, and then nothing. Spider appeared at the top of the stairs, pushing his two fellows aside in obvious excitement.
They huddled together, watching, animatedly whispering back and forth before the two gray gnarls fished her body out of the pit. They cradled her limp form reverentially and descended, and then gently laid her upon a velvety cloth on the ground.
Julian waited, feeling a turbulent mixture of trepidation and confusion as the gnarls selected yet another from the crowd, and pulled them off towards the pit.
Julian couldn’t pull his gaze away from the young woman, he told himself he didn’t dare look away for fear he would miss something, perhaps some sign as to why they were being sacrificed. His logic told him nothing would happen, that she was dead, just like the man who now lay in a jumbled, forgotten heap yards away.
Before Julian was afforded any answers, another pair of gnarls came forth and placed the woman’s body on a simple wooden gurney, and carried it away. The process continued, and the group around Julian thinned until finally only a few remained. He flinched every time the gnarls returned for another person, and his heart began to flutter. The look in their eyes as they were marched away was always the same. Julian started to feel hollow inside.
Many bodies had been placed on the soft velvet where the first young woman had lain, and each one subsequently carried away in short order. However, for every success, there had been several failures. Those poor souls had been tossed in a heap like decomposing refuse, their lives utterly wasted.
Julian couldn’t bring himself to look at the pile of dead people anymore. He started visualizing his own lifeless, waterlogged body added to the tangle of death, and the thought made his stomach churn.
The gnarls fished around for yet another lifeless body as a commotion arose on the other side of the cavern. Julian watched as a troop of goblins, draped in chains, and shackles carried forth an elaborately decorated sedan chair. The creatures grunted and strained, lugging the gold and jewel encrusted construct slowly across the wide space.
The crack of a whip made Julian flinch as another body landed in the refuse pile behind him, landing with a horrible wet smack.
Julian felt alone and exposed. There were only a few left standing around him.
He watched the elaborate sedan chair approach, taking note of the gnarl slave drivers walking in the rear, cracking their whips into the flesh of any goblin foolish enough to slow or drop their burden.
A solitary figure, outfitted in magnificently tailored clothes, walked at the head of the procession. His steps were so smooth he seemed to float across the ground. The man was no larger than Julian but walked with an unmistakable air of importance.
As the procession neared, Julian felt a pang in his collar and his head grew very heavy. His knees buckled, and before he knew it, he was kneeling. Julian fought against the influence, but he couldn’t rise. The more he struggled, the stronger the force became on his shoulders forcing him down. The pressure became so great that he felt it might break his back, so he gave in and sank lower.
Bent over, with his face hovering just above the ground, Julian could see little beyond the sweating rock. He heard the sharp crack of the whips, the grunting and straining of the goblins, and his own wheezing, labored breathing.
Julian smelled something strange as the sedan chair passed. It was so out of place within the damp and decay of the underground that he thought his mind was playing tricks on him again, but then he smelled it again. It was the smell of fragrant summer flowers, sweet and earthy. Memories of home instantly flashed into his mind.
The pleasant aroma faded quickly, leaving Julian’s nose filled with the rank smell of goblins. It was pickle-sweet, like pond scum and soured milk. It sparked memories from his childhood, when his parents kept goblins as house slaves. They were hidden most of the time, berated and beaten if caught out in the open for anyone to see. But Julian, always sneaking about and looking for trouble, knew where to find them.
The whip cracked again, this time so close Julian could feel the breeze from snapping leather. He flinched, painfully biting his tongue. Blood trickled into his mouth as the pressure eased on his back, just as the gnarl slaver walked by, its long, hook-shaped claws clicking like daggers against the stone.
He hesitated and lifted his head only when he was certain the small parade had passed. The gnarls flashed in, grabbing the woman next to him. She grunted and whined, turning to Julian for help. He so badly wanted to reach out and pull her back.
Tears welled up in his eyes, bubbling up running down his cheeks. Julian was helpless to aid any of them, least of all himself. He couldn’t protect Denoril or its people. All of his oaths were forfeit.
He didn’t share his father’s ambitions for politics or power. That wasn’t why he joined. He just wanted to help people, to live by the strength of his convictions, and provide some peace for those who couldn’t manage it on their own.
He turned away as they started to tear into the woman, his hand rising halfway to his face before he realized what was happening. The recognition jolted him like a bucket of freezing water down his back. He cringed, waiting for the stabbing pain that would follow from the collar, but as the moments ticked by, nothing happened.
He caught sight of the sedan chair and its inhabitant. The woman continued to curse and cry behind him, but he watched as two knobby goblins helped a ghoulish looking individual out of the chair’s enclosure.
At first glance, Julian thought it a woman, but as the person took several hobbled steps forward he realized that it was a man, a horribly withered, wretched looking man. His hair was long, stretching all the way down past his waist, and almost matched in length by a ratted, curly beard. His skin looked like dusty alabaster, and if the man were not moving Julian would have easily mistaken him for a statue. Each of his movements looked stiff and unnatural, like his joints had indeed turned to stone.
Another goblin pulled something long out of the sedan chair and followed close behind the wretch. Julian realized it held a glimmering scabbard.
Spider ushered the wretch and his goblin escort forward. They all bowed low to the man in the finely tailored clothing, before turning towards Sky and his group.
“Sky…no,” Julian grunted as his friend and those around him crumbled to the ground.
The wretch moved before the cowering people. The well-dressed man and the wretch exchanged words. Julian could see their lips moving, but couldn’t make out the words. The gnarls up on the lip of the pool were making too much noise.
Julian heard grunting and growling, but then splashing and something wet heaved up onto the stone. He hadn’t realized that she went quiet.
Maybe they have all they need. Maybe they won’t need me, he thought, and couldn’t bring himself to turn and look.
The two strange men stopped talking. They looked odd to Julian, so completely opposite, just like the white and black king of a chess set. In this case, however, Julian didn’t harbor any belief that either of them was good, or just.
Spider came out from behind his master, taking the sword from the knobby, one-eyed goblin. Julian watched Spider’s master react ever so subtly as he hefted the weapon forward. The elegant man, flawless in his hair and wardrobe, whose hadn’t shown any emotion, stepped back. Julian, who had become accustomed to watching faces for ticks, as well as studying body language in fighters, understood the significance. The man’s face remained a placid mask, void of emotion, his eyes sparkling luminously in the lively fire light.
Julian heard the gnarls drag the woman down the stairs behind him. Spider put the handle of the weapon in the withered, fossilized old man’s hand. Julian took note how the small masked man took exceptional care only to touch the scabbard and nothing else.
He watched the blade slide free and heard the telltale song of finely hammered steel against wood. The blade shone like ebony glass, and Spider’s master took yet another tentative step backward, this time a flicker of something flashing across his face.
Was that fear? Julian wondered.
The gnarls tossed the woman onto the pile of bodies.
My time is coming.
Spider braced the wretch’s arm, helping him hold the magnificent weapon aloft before him. The cutting edge curved ever so slightly at the end, leaving the blade with a wickedly sharp point. Even from his distance, Julian could see the intricate styling of the sword, its sharp pointed pommel and curving talon-shaped hand guard.
He heard stories of such weapons when he was young, but they were supposed to be stories. Spider lowered the wretch’s arm and cocked it back. As he did the air filled with a peculiar noise, like a whisper drifting on the air.
Spider jabbed the wretch’s arm forward, plunging the sword into the unfortunate man groveling at their feet. The force of the blow jarred the man backward, his eyes widening in shock.
A heartbeat later the man doubled over, draping like a limp cloth on the blade of the sword. His pain filled the cavern as a horrible keen, which quickly turned into a sputtering gurgle. Julian heard the whisper again, growing stronger and pulsing like the swarming buzz of angry bees.
Spider and his masked fellows appeared unfazed by the noise, but the goblin slaves were not so lucky. The small creatures clutched their hands to their heads and backed away, shaking agitatedly.
The wretch’s body began to shake. Only his pale hands, which clung deathly to the sword’s handle, did not move. Strong clawed-hands wrapped around Julian’s arms, and he was violently pulled backward. He felt and smelled the gnarl’s rotten breath on him as they wrestled him to the base of the sweeping stair.
Julian turned his head, fighting against the restrictive collar as he watched the sword slide free from the first man. As the blade came free his body fell to the ground and broke apart like an empty, dried out husk.
Clawed ripped and tugged against Julian. He felt his shirt tear and then his trousers. The wretch was pulled before the second man and once again the dark, glassine blade stabbed in hungrily. Julian was pulled back and forth by the creatures as they savagely stripped him down. Their claws raked and cut his skin in a dozen places, but he couldn’t stop them.
&n
bsp; Julian looked to Sky as the second unfortunate soul fell to the ground, but a hot jolt of pain turned him about. Silver flashed as another blade creased his shoulder.
“I’ll cut your blasted throat with that knife!” Julian cursed.
He turned just as the wretch, now standing under his own power, drove the black blade into the third person, a middle-aged woman that cried and begged pitifully. Her pleas died away more quickly than those before her.
Julian’s head went back involuntarily as the gnarls poked their blades into his legs and back. His arm flopped uselessly at his side as he tried to fight the creatures off. Blood was already flowing freely all over his body.
Julian cursed the ugly, disfigured creatures. He threatened to repay every nick and cut back on them one hundred fold. He promised to kill every one of their kind, biting back tears from the pain and hopelessness. The gnarls responded by jabbing him again and again.
The collar around his neck tingled each time their blades touched his skin. It didn’t block out the pain as it had before when they marched.
Spider wants me to feel this pain…he thought, and by the time they finally stopped, Julian felt horribly queasy.
The gnarls marched Julian up the stairs, dragging his shins and feet against the sharp edges of the stone steps. They propped him on the lip of the pit. Below him lay a body of brackish water.
Bronze poles protruded from the stone edge of the pool. Strange glowing gems pulsed rhythmically atop each one, casting a strange, haunting light. Even their paltry luminescence couldn’t penetrate the murk of the dark, bloody water.
The gnarls spun Julian around. The heels of his feet slid off the smooth stone, leaving his toes the only thing keeping him from tumbling into the water. He looked over and saw the wretch towering above Sky. The anxiety swelled inside him until he thought his heart would burst.
A masked man appeared before him, blocking his view. The man reached up and fumbled with his collar. Julian struggled, stretching his neck, trying to look over or around him to keep his friend in sight.