Death Flag

  After a time, the series of switchbacks ended, and the trail leveled out once again. Rather than being replaced with the same forest of towering trees he had been in for two days now, however, gently-swelling fields took its place. Calf-high grass rose up on either side of the pathway, swaying back and forth in a gentle breeze that he could see but not feel. He heard birds chirping away happily, and he even noticed a stream cutting the field before disappearing into the cliff he had just scaled down. The entire scene had a strangely-calming beauty to it, and it seemed entirely out of place after being in the dimly-lit deciduous forest for so long.

  Then it struck him that something had changed. Madison realized as soon as he reached the bottom that he was completely soaked in sweat. The sticky, humid air hadn’t disappeared entirely, but it wasn’t as oppressive as before. The strenuous, brisk march through the woods and the effort of making it down the twists and turns had taken a toll on him along with not being fully recovered, but it was the presence of a sun that caught him unaware and snuck up on him. This was the first time he had seen the actual sun since marching along the beach the day he arrived. He glanced skyward as if needing to actually confirm its existence, throwing a hand up in front of his face to shield his eyes from its direct effects. Sure enough, hanging in the sky was a large, hazy ball of yellow light. It was like finding a long-lost friend, and he felt its warmth soak into his sweat-coated skin as soon as he noticed it was there.

  Once they were a bit closer, things began coming into focus a bit better. They traveled along the gravel path for a good while, and it quickly became apparent just how large the compound was. He realized now that, in addition to the large castle and the four towers, there was also a large outer wall constructed from a smooth, bluish-grey stone that surrounded the entire compound. The grassy meadow ran right up to its walls, and he halfway expected to find a moat surrounding the place as well.

  Finally, they arrived in the shadow of the wall, and it was only then that it struck him how absolutely large everything was. Towering, monolithic, and colossal only came close to describing the structure. Standing next to a wall that was likely forty stories tall, that was in turn dwarfed by the castle and towers it protected, was daunting.

  A man emerged from a small door built into the side of the wall and waited for them as they approached. Warren was in the lead and naturally reached him first, turning and holding up a hand that indicated Madison should stop and wait where he was until he had a chance to speak with him. The two chattered for a moment, and though Madison couldn’t hear what was being said, the number of times they each gestured toward him made it evidently clear what the topic of their discussion was.

  After a time, Warren threw up his hands and walked back to Madison. “Well,” he began sullenly, “they aren’t exactly pleased with the situation, but there’s nothing they can do about it. Come with me.”

  Warren led him over to the door the man had exited from and ushered him inside. Once there, they passed through a small room that amounted to very little other than an empty square space, down a small hallway that ran parallel to the outer wall, and then down a flight of steps and through another small room set away from the outer wall. Each room they passed through was completely focused on function and devoid of anything frivolous. There were beds built into the walls, weapons racks and armor stands mounted in key locations, and heavy cabinets that looked as if they were bolted to the floor.

  Although he had never toured a medieval castle before, Madison had a fairly good idea what this series of hallways and rooms was designed for, and it made him nervous. He had read about such things before. Guards and soldiers would be stationed here in the event of an attack so that they would always be close to defend either the walls or the gates as needed. The hallways were designed to confuse and disorient attackers while forcing them to fight in a confined space, and the rooms were only just large enough for a few people to fit through at once, forcing them to bottleneck together and fight for position. In theory, the design levied a heavy advantage to the defenders.

  The question is: What are they defending? Or are they actually expecting to defend it from someone? Everything has been well maintained, but that doesn’t mean much. History museums and historical sites are maintained as well, but that doesn’t mean they’ll ever be used for anything ever again.

  “What is this place?” he asked under his breath. It was as much a real question as it was rhetorical.

  “You’ll either find out soon enough, or you won’t, I imagine,” Warren answered. “In here,” he said, gesturing to a closed door he had stopped in front of.

  Unlike the rest of the rooms they had passed through, this one actually had a bit of ornamentation to it in a way that wasn’t completely practical. The stones in the floor had been polished until they had a brilliant sheen to them, and there was a thick carpeted rug set in front of the door that cushioned his steps as he approached. The stand of armor next to the door had an austere look to it, making him questioned whether it was a prop or an actual suit of armor, but it looked as if it had been fitted for someone who was a giant. Madison was just over six feet tall, and he had a fairly wide chest, but he knew he would be swimming in that armor if he were to put it on.

  Madison stopped outside the door and looked at Warren questioningly. He was seriously beginning to have his doubts as to whether or not he should have followed him to this place. All the wonderment and curiosity he had felt before was being pushed away by a sense of foreboding.

  “Just wait inside. I might see you later,” Warren answered before turning and leaving, continuing down the hallway further into the complex.

  “Can you be any more cryptic?” Madison shouted exasperatedly after him, his voice falling dead in the tiny space. He didn’t want to seem ungrateful—the guy might have actually saved his life—but the lack of answers was starting to annoy him.

  He sighed heavily and knocked on the door. When there wasn’t an immediate answer, he knocked a second time and then again after a long pause. Finally, he just turned the handle and pressed forward on the heavy wooden door. It swung inward much more easily than he had expected, most likely the result of well-oiled hinges, and exposed what appeared to be a private office. There was a heavy wooden desk set against the far wall, a thick rug on the floor that matched the one in the hallway, and several tall bookshelves. The desk and the shelves were completely covered with books, manuscripts, and documents. It looked as if a proverbial hurricane had worked its way through the room at first glance, although Madison had a sneaking suspicion that wasn’t the case at all.

  He stepped into the room and glanced around, leaving the door swung shut behind him on its own. He stepped over to the closest stack of papers and craned his head around so that he could look at them. What he wanted most right now was information, and if this world was anything like his own, books were as good a place to start as any. Unsurprisingly, however, he found that it was written in a completely-foreign language. He glanced at another stack and found the same: it was completely illegible. Whatever the language was, it seemed to use a system that was similar to his own. The characters were vaguely reminiscent of English, but they were in a completely wrong arrangement and appeared to be written backward, upside down, and without a specific order. Language arts had never been his thing, but he was fairly certain he could decipher it if he was given enough time and enough context.

  He walked over to the desk and glanced around at the various objects there. Most of them appeared to be small trinkets, probably personal effects belonging to whoever owned the office, and they seemed rather uninteresting. Sitting on the edge of the desk, however, was a smooth translucent stone about the size of his fist that caught his attention. Even in the poor light in the office, it seemed to have a sparkle to it. Madison couldn’t help himself. He reached out and picked it up then rolled it over in his hands as he studied it.

  Wait, what?

  Madison held it up until it was almost in front of h
is face and peered at it intently. It was faint at first, but a tendril of colored smoke began swirling around in the center of the see-through crystal. In spun around on itself for a moment and then quickly blossomed outward from the center until it filled the entire stone. The smoke was such a dark color that he had originally thought it was black, but now as he watched it swell up and press against the contours of the stone, realized that it was actually an incredibly-dark purple.

  What the heck? It’s almost the same as—

  “I suppose you’ll be wanting answers,” a loud, deep voice said from right behind him.

  Madison almost jumped out of his skin at the sound of the voice, and he came close to dropping the stone. He quickly turned around and found one of the largest men he had ever seen standing behind him.

  How did someone that size manage to sneak up on me without making a sound? Then he caught sight of the door swinging shut silently behind the behemoth. A very well-oiled door, he thought wryly.

  “The first thing I would like to know—”

  “Shut up,” the gargantuan man ordered firmly. It was clear from just those few words and the manner in which he spoke that he was used to being obeyed. “My name is Davion. And, to be honest, I really don’t care much for what you want at the moment.” He moved around the desk and sat in the chair there, leaning back to look up at Madison. He glanced down at the rock in Madison’s hands and then back up at his face.

  Now that he had a chance to see more of him than just the granite slabs the man probably called his chest, Madison took a moment to assess him. He was a middle-aged man with short, close-cut black hair that more or less resembled Warren’s and a full beard that was bespeckled with spots of grey. He was wearing a pair of simple dark pants and a thin, white shirt that showed off the muscles he had collected over the years. He might have had a bit of age on him, but Madison was willing to bet his bottom dollar and take out a loan on his dead mother’s grave that this man knew how to fight and could still hold his own. There was just something about his demeanor, his movements, that belied someone with too much confidence.

  Madison tried to speak but found that the words wouldn’t come. His mouth moved, his tongue wagged, and his throat constricted, but no sounds came out. He couldn’t even so much as utter a grunt.

  What the hell? Why can’t I . . .?

  Davion watched him for a moment, a smug and knowing look showing in his eyes. “It’s easier this way,” he said without giving any real explanation. “When I need you to speak, you will be able to. Until then, just stand there and pay attention like a good little boy. If what I suspect is correct, this will be a new technique to you, so you’re probably going to be a bit alarmed. Don’t be. The sooner you accept it, the faster we can get through this.”

  Madison felt the heat rise into his cheeks as his face flushed. Accept it? You want me to accept the fact that you’ve just taken away my ability to speak? And you somehow think that’s OK?! He felt like he was practically screaming at the top of his lungs, but not so much as a peep could be heard. Finally, he gave up, gasping and out of breath from the effort.

  Davion laughed at him, that self-serving smile still plastered across his face.

  Madison understood exactly what Davion was laughing at. He must have looked quite the sight, screaming into silence. Still, it just pissed him off even more that he couldn’t say or do anything about it. He reached forward, slammed the small rock back down on the desk where he had found it, crossed his arms over his chest, and glowered at the man. He looked like a petulant child. He was acting foolish, and he knew it—but that didn’t stop him from doing it anyway.

  I’m so sick of this world.

  “Ho. Be careful,” Davion warned, leaning forward with a dangerous glint in his eyes. “If you act like a child around here, you will be treated like one. Aside from the minor misfortune of losing your voice for a brief time, you have been treated more hospitably than should be expected under the circumstances. Now, if you can honestly answer a few questions for me, I might be able to give you some answers. If you do not, or you cannot, there will be consequences. Do you understand?”

  Madison automatically tried to speak in response, but of course nothing came out. Quickly, he realized his mistake and just nodded instead.

  “Are you willing to do that much?” Davion asked, apparently seeking clarity.

  Madison nodded the affirmative again. Screw you, asshole.

  “Very well,” Davion began, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands together. “Do you know where you are?”

  Madison shook his head no.

  “Do you know who I am?”

  You just told me your name. So, yes? Other than that? No. What a stupid question. Madison shrugged and put every ounce of acting ability he possessed into looking sarcastic.

  “Very well,” Davion said again. “What is your name? You may speak.”

  “Screw you,” he gasped out. After trying so hard, his voice actually sounded strange. “Wh—” He was cut off as the silence returned.

  “Only warning. You’re not much for making a good first impression, are you?” Davion asked. It sounded like more of an observation that a question, although there wasn’t very much in his voice inflection-wise either way. He didn’t sound sarcastic at all, and that pissed Madison off even more. “My time is more valuable than you realize, and you haven’t proven to me that you’re worth it yet. What is your name?”

  Madison paused a moment. How far can I push this? “Madison,” he answered.

  “Why are you here?”

  “I don’t even know where—” He continued speaking, but of course nothing came out.

  “Why are you here?” Davion repeated.

  Here where? Here in this room? Because I was told to come here and wait. Here in this fortress or castle or whatever this place is? Because it was better than the alternative of wandering around lost in the woods until I either managed to kill myself doing something stupid, died of dehydration or starvation, or until another band of slavers picked me up. Here in this world? I don’t have the slightest idea other than the fact that I apparently pissed off a witch with a vendetta. Which answer would you like first?

  “I don’t know,” Madison finally answered. He couldn’t tell whether or not Davion liked the answer or even believed him. The man’s face was completely unreadable.

  As if he understood, Davion said, “Tell me how you got here.”

  Madison narrowed his eyes as he studied the large man. Consequences, he said. What consequences? How much should I even trust him with? Can I trust him at all? How much will he believe if I actually told him the truth? What if I tell the truth and he doesn’t believe me anyway?

  “Alright,” he sighed, rubbing his eyes with one hand. He was beginning to feel tired. Drained. He had been forcibly marched around for two days, brought back from the cusp of death by some magical healing elixir, had walked to some magically-hidden-valley-fortress-thing, and now he was being interrogated for some unknown reason.

  “The short of it is this: I was on a ship when someone attacked it. Something went wrong, and there was a fight. There was some guy looking for something, but he didn’t find it. He was really pissed off when it wasn’t there, so he threw me overboard in the middle of a storm. I washed up on shore, and I was captured by a group of slavers. They marched me around for two days until I managed to escape. That was when that guy, Warren, found me. Now I’m here.” It was about as vague of a story as he could give, and he had left out some pretty important details, but that was the general summary of his last few days. For everything that had happened, it felt pretty insignificant when it was summed up into a few short, neat sentences like that.

  “Do you know the name of the man who attacked your ship?” Davion asked when he had finished.

  “Garin Fane,” Madison said flatly. He was certain he had heard one of the sailors call him that.

  “Describe him to me.”

  “Large guy, probably abo
ut your size, bald, tattooed up and rough looking. Clearly knew his way around a ship and an axe. Real son of a bitch. Liked torturing people. Probably got off on it, actually.”

  Davion’s eyes narrowed a bit as Madison talked, his interested clearly piqued. It was the first sign of emotion and the only reaction that he had shown the entire time.

  “Tell me how you escaped from capture.”

  Madison hesitated with his answer. He had purposefully left out that part since he didn’t know how Davion would react to it. Is there a justice system here? Slavery might be legal, but that doesn’t mean murder is. They got less than they probably deserved, yet he had to live with the fact that he was now a killer. A murderer. “I killed them.” The words came out easier than he expected. His voice was calm, but his stomach felt like a bundle of steel cables was working itself into a knot, and his head felt rather fuzzy all of a sudden. His vision tilted as his head rolled to the side, his neck no longer able to support its weight, and he stumbled a half-step to the side.

  “Whaa—” he slurred and collapsed forward, his legs buckling underneath him.

  -----

  Sunlight streamed in through a large window, illuminating the bed placed just beneath it. The room was clean and tidy in the way that only a hospital room or a doctor’s office could be, and yet despite that, particles of dust could be seen floating through the air for a brief moment before they settled onto the white linen sheets.

  Madison stretched his arms languidly above his head and heard several joints in his shoulders and elbows pop as stiff muscles suddenly came awake. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this good. The bed was soft but not saggy, and it was warm in the sunlight without being too hot. The sheets were firm and stiff like new laundry, but they weren’t scratchy or hard. Overall, it was about the best sleep he could ever remember having. He opened his eyes and blinked against the bright light. He was aware of the fact that he wasn’t where he was supposed to be. It was impossible to ignore or forget the fact that he was in some alien world where everyone and everything wanted to kill him. Yet, he refused to focus on that thought yet. Maybe, if I just lie here and don’t make a sound, they will forget about me. Maybe I can fake it for another day and just slee—