by SL Figuhr
The clerk merely grunted and walked back over to the small group. “Your Grace, I will leave you in Dag and Jimbo’s hands.”
“Thank you.” She had a smile which would have given him pause if he had noticed the amusement lurking in her eyes.
Dag was taking several key rings from their pegs and speaking low-voiced to his fellow worker. He called out louder, “Hey, Jimbo, grab yer club.” He had a short sword strapped to his waist.
Jimbo looked to be six foot and three hundred pounds of muscle. He casually laid a thick, knotted club over a shoulder. “Ain’t we gonna search em first, Dag?”
“Guards already did,” Dag replied as he unlocked the door to the first level. The three hooded cloaked people with him followed after as the man behind them re-locked the door.
Colin misliked the whispering and the strange glances. Eron just hoped she knew what she was doing.
The air became colder, iron-banded wood doors lined the hall. “Now who did this person say yer was looking for?”
“A merchant the old sheriff falsely accused of stealing. I’m not sure how long he may have been in here, or if any one paid for his upkeep.” the Duchess answered.
“Ain’t gonna be up here, ifin no one paying fer him,” Jimbo replied.
“I prefer to be thorough, gentlemen. If there is a way I can see each prisoner just long enough to rule them out?”
“Well, now, that’s against all the rules. We got quite a bit of people in here.”
“I wouldn’t want to get you gentlemen in trouble, but I would be ever so grateful if you could find a way to make it happen,” Her Grace held out a hand, and Dag automatically took what she offered. She repeated the gesture with Jimbo.
“Aw, I don’t see no harm in it.” Jimbo replied, impressed with the gold coin worth a year’s pay.
Dag still wasn’t convinced. “Yeah, buts there’s more than one level here and that’s a lotta looking.”
“I would be quite grateful for the privilege,” Lira looked into his eyes and after a moment he nodded assent.
Each door had a grate, so she merely had to peek inside. They cleared the first level and moved down, the guard explaining, “Now, these here levels hold the less prosperous, but still generally respected prisoners.”
When the door to the next level opened, both Eron and Colin got a nose full of the stench and tried to hold back their coughs.
“Sorry sirs, My Lady, it’s pretty bad down here. Are you sure you want to do this? I wouldn’t want such an important guest as yourself to be subjected to the nasties below. And it will be nasty, lots o’ these folks have already been put to the questioner; some of ‘em more than once.”
“I thank you for your concern, Sir Guard, but we shall continue.” Lira replied. “I am not sure if he has been questioned yet or not, thus I must inspect them all.” She caught his eyes again.
Eron watched the man’s eyes glaze over before shrugging at the whims of his betters and led them down to the next level. The process of looking in each cell was repeated for two more floors, until they came at last to a door covered in mold.
“Well, that’s all there is, My Lady. I’m sorry the person you were looking for wasn’t here.”
“There is another door, Sir Guard.”
“Well, uh, uh, um,” the guard stammered. “It...It’s just the, the sub-cellar. Ain’t nothing down there fit for a lady’s eyes. Truly, My Lady, and the smell, it’s well-nigh unbearable, even for the likes of usn.”
“I wouldn’t have thought that possible,” Eron drily replied and earned a glare from the guard.
“‘Sides, if who yer looking fer wasn’t above, ain’t no chance he’ll be down there.”
“And why is that?” she asked.
Dag and Jimbo exchanged glances and it was Jimbo who replied, “Mainly ‘cause they’ve gone through the worst questioning—I doubt even their own mothers would recognize them. Down there, is what we calls the disposal area. ‘Sides, it’s pretty wet.”
“It is flooded?”
“Well, not exactly, but the water’s deep enough to come over a person’s shoes,”
“And there are no cells down there? No place where prisoners are kept?”
Again he hesitated but answered, “Jus’...just holes in the floor. They puts the more, uh, stubborn ones down there. But truly, My Lady, it is no place for one as delicate as you.”
Eron couldn’t help the snort of laughter which escaped at those words and he had to stare studiously at the floor and turn it into a coughing fit as he got himself under control.
“Nevertheless, Sir Guard, I intend to check it out.”
Eron raised his head in alarm, just in time to see the guard’s eyes go fuzzy. The wave of foul air that rushed out when he opened the door made everyone back up a step.
“By all that’s holy!” Colin muttered in pity.
She ignored him and proceeded down the stairs after Dag. True to the guard’s word, several inches of water lapped at the bottom step, releasing such an odor of decay, the men could not control their gag reflexes. Vomit splashed, adding to the flotsam and jetsam in the morass below.
Eron remarked, “I can’t get past you unless you step down, or move closer to the wall.” He wished he could see the look on her face.
Illyria turned half-way on the stair and said to him, “It is clear on the left side. Only stones underneath the water, but don’t splash when you jump.”
He stared at her a moment.
“You,” he started to say, but remembered he was supposed to be an underling, and jumped. Slipped and almost went down but caught himself by the slimy stair edge and righted. Eron felt freezing droplets land on his pants and hoped he’d splashed her boots. He wiped his hands on his cloak, the hem of which he knew was soaking up the filthy water.
“Shall I stay here with the torch for you, My Lady?” the guard began.
“No, show my slave what is in each.”
“I, um, uh, there’s rats down here. They may come out if I leave you without a light,” he apologized.
“I understand, Sir Guard. I am not afraid of vermin, animal or human. I am sure Jimbo and this other man shall keep me safe.”
Eron smirked and dearly wanted to ask if she planned on having a rat snack but dissembled to look grave and put-upon as the man half-turned back toward him. The guard gave her another uncertain look but led Eron over to the first of the pits.
The man held the light close to the grill, and Eron repressed the rage which flashed through him as he looked down a deep hole in the ground. Most of them were empty, a few held rotting corpses, and two held filthy beings so nigh unto death that he hoped their suffering would be over soon. Eron and the guard kept their sleeves over their mouths and as he straightened, he saw the broad step and the door. He walked up, glad to be out of the freezing water if only for a moment. The guard joined him.
Eron jerked a thumb to the door and asked through his sleeve, “What’s behind there?”
“Torture chamber, and I’m not taking Her Ladyship in there,” the guard replied firmly.
“Good idea,” Eron replied, “but I have to ask, any other cells in there used to hold prisoners?”
A scowl flickered over the guard’s face, but he forced his face to smooth out. “No,” he replied in sullen tones with only the slightest of hesitations.
The immortal sighed. “Very well, let’s go back.”
The guard unhesitatingly stepped off into the slime, and Eron hastened after him. Small, winking lights in the dark, and chittering, greeted their return.
“Damn it! Rats! I’m coming, Your Ladyship!” the guard called worriedly and slogged faster to the steps.
The men saw the Duchess standing exactly where they had left her, her eyes gleaming like a night animal’s in the gloom. The guard made a frightened noise and Eron saw her lean slightly forward, speak softly. The man became quiet and his eyes glazed.
He woke a moment later. “My Lady, We’ve checked ‘em all.”
“We can go now, Madam, he’s not in them.” Eron said.
“Really?” she asked, and Eron knew there was more to come.
“I’m cold and I think my boots are leaking water.”
“Very well, steward,” she said and, ignoring the other immortal who had opened his mouth to protest, climbed the stairs behind Colin, Eron following sullenly.
Jimbo was locking the door behind them as Lira spoke to Dag,
“How many cells are in the torture rooms, Sir Guard?”
“Huh? What? Oh, none, none at all,” he said hastily; the other guard lifted his hands in a not-my-fault gesture.
“I know there must be a few.” Her voice was reasonable.
The immortal merely shrugged and said, “She is persistent, and knows people who have the king’s ear.”
At those words both guards looked pained.
“Please, My Lady, I don’t know. None of us know, only the, uh, um, Head Questioner does and, well, see, none of us question his word. Ain’t too healthy if you know what I mean.”
She remained silent until Jimbo was forced to say, “There are some questions you just don’t ask around here.” He folded his beefy arms across his chest, as if expecting a problem.
“Then fetch him to me, I shall ask them of him myself,” the tone firm.
The guards looked shocked and glanced at each other. Eron rolled his eyes and murmured, “Not discreet at all.”
The guard with the crossed arms narrowed his eyes. “He don’t come to no one, they go to him.” He shifted his weight and placed his hands on his hips.
She seemed irritated he would deny a member of the nobility. “Very well, show us to the man.”
The party crossed the guard room and started back up the steps to the outside; halfway up a short hallway branched off a landing. The two men guided their guests down it. Stale, icy air washed over them as the door at the end was unlocked.
“Have you been this way before, Your Grace? There are rooms for the witnesses and other officials down here in the rare instances a trial is held. I will place you in one of the waiting rooms while I fetch Rablias.”
“And there should be another entrance to the torture chamber? It seems a bit sloppy,” Colin whispered skeptically to his friend as they continued cautiously down the hall.
“Who in their right mind would want to break into the place?” Eron replied. At the end of the hall, they came across another set of stairs leading down. “Wait.”
“What?” Dag looked aggravated.
“I am told the torturer's live down here. I don't want them to bother Her Grace.”
“They attack first, question later?” Colin asked worriedly.
Dag hurried to reassure them. “The head clerk sent word you was coming and they will be kept away from the lady.”
They nodded and started down the stone stairs. Eron and Colin wondered how it was they didn’t stumble upon remains from earlier times. Doors opened to small sleeping cells off each of the landings. The rooms were currently empty, but showed use. They paused outside the door at the bottom as Dag manipulated the keys to get the lock open. The tumblers groaned in protest, but finally yielded. Another massive iron-bound wooden door blocked the end of another hallway of cold, dark rooms. The guard pounded on it, tossing an oily smile back over his shoulder.
“It may take a moment for them to unlock the sitting room door, Your Grace.” She inclined her head and lowered the hood of her cloak.
The man pounded once more. The door slowly swung open and Dag stepped back and gestured for her and her slaves to enter the ill-lit room. But the two immortal men yelled in alarm as they were rudely shoved inside by Dag and Jimbo, and the door was crashed shut by a hulking brute. The guards and her friends tussled as a second man joined the fight.
The second hulking brute got a lucky shot off and managed to knock Colin unconscious. The first man grinned nastily at sight of the woman.
* * *
“I need one of them alive!” I shouted to the Immortal as I met my foe’s attack.
I leapt out of the way of his cudgel swing, as if I was scared of him. He fell for it; he made a noise of delight halfway between a grunt and a squeal, and launched a series of attacks. I could see at once he had only rudimentary skills, relying on brute strength and size. I let him get a few more swings in, forcing me further into the darkness of the room. I could tell from the way the brute before me held himself he was preparing to rush me. I let him, and kicked out and sideways as he went past. He howled as his knee gave way; as he collapsed with a crash, I manipulated his arm so the cudgel was pointed down and his elbow up. I brought my own elbow to bear on the joint, popping it out of place. He roared in pain and dropped his weapon.
“Duch...” the cry was cut off.
I turned to see Eron go flying backwards into a stone wall, knocked out. I was left with three opponents.
“Give up now and it’ll go easier!” Dag called to me as Eron’s opponent charged me.
He was a big man, like the one at my feet, but nimbler. I moved forward as he landed, poker upraised to come down on my head. My right arm blocked his momentum. My left hand delivered an upthrust blow to his jaw. I was not husbanding my strength and the power of the blow snapped his head back so sharply I heard the crack of neck bones breaking an instant behind the sound of his jaw shattering into fragments.
Blood, bone, and teeth arced to splatter around us. He dropped as the two guards yelled in outrage, moving to surround me. I stepped into Jimbo’s reach and turned sideways, reaching up to pull his arms down in front of my body. The sword deflected off the club as I kicked out and up, connecting with Dag’s head. I smelled the blood as it burst from his exploding skull.
I used Jimbo’s arms as a fulcrum; as my leg came down, his arms raised as he tried to shake me off. I let go and backed up as he went to swing at me. I melted into the darkness, moving to come up behind him. He was my height, but I wanted him lower, so I dropped him to his knees before snapping his neck. He fell, head twisted at an unnatural angle as the other man, despite the dislocated knee and elbow, tried to stand. No need to worry about Dag; I’d caved in one side of his head.
“How sad; good help is hard to find these days,” I commented out loud and stalked over to the first brute.
I hauled him up by his hair and wrapped my arms around him to still him. No point in letting a perfectly good meal go to waste.
* * *
The man before me stood in chains as the Head Questioner sat scribbling at a table. “It says here you were caught harming your master’s slaves.” The voice was silky smooth.
“He lies. I was only doing my Master’s bidding.” He was defiant.
“Were you now? Your Master states you are...zealous. You often go above and beyond what is required of you.”
“He dare complain how I get him what he wishes to know? I will crush him with my bare hands!”
“A dangerous sentiment to voice, seeing where you are. Tell me, slave, what would you do to ensure you are not sold as a rower aboard His Majesty’s ships?”
“I have only one skill, but one I can do better than the mewling men you employ here.”
“Indeed? You do not follow orders well, if this complaint has any truth behind it. I require complete obedience. You must not deviate from my orders. Do you suppose you can do that?”
“If you be a master what knows what he’s doing.”
The pale blue eyes narrowed in amusement. “If not, you will learn what a mistake it is to displease me.”
The man was led away. His thoughts whirled to the first person he tortured under the Head Questioner’s guidance, and further forward. Now he had been joined by his brother; under the man’s tutelage, they honed and perfected their craft. Forward again. Time had no real meaning to him. He was bound on his own torture table, screaming.
“I’ve served you well! You’ll regret it!” The man howled as his brother fought the chains holding him to the wall.
> “Is this necessary? They are loyal, they will not speak of what we do here.” The questioner plead with someone in the shadows.
“You dare to question me?” The voice low with menace. “You came to me asking for guidance. If you wish to be more than a two-bit conjurer, you will do as I say!”
The man on the table saw a bright white light flash about the chamber, searing his eyes so he howled in pain and shut them. His screams joined those of the Head Questioner. After a bit, he heard the man pant out in pain.
“Yes master, forgive me. Your will shall be done.”
The brute saw his employer approach the table with tongs. His jaw was forcibly held open. His tongue pulled out far enough he gagged. Still the man struggled fruitlessly against his bonds.
“Forgive me, but your sacrifice serves a higher purpose.” Rablias murmured.
The man felt a searing pain as his tongue was ripped out. He’d sworn he wouldn’t give them the satisfaction, but scream he did with what was left of his ruined mouth, unaware of the tears of pain and rage streaming down his face. A funnel was shoved into the raw wound of his mouth, renewing the agony as he slipped into unconsciousness. His brief respite from pain did not last long. A foul brew poured down his throat. He gagged and heaved against his bonds to no use. His brother’s furious threats of vengeance rang in his ears.
* * *
I let the man slip to the floor, drained dry. His thoughts at the end dwelt on his own misfortunes, only broken by the joy he felt when he was able to bring pain and suffering to another fellow human being. I saw nothing in his mind of Mica. He did harbor a grudge against the little boy for ordering his mutilation, and against Rablias for carrying it out. Colin was starting to come around. Eron was already on hands and knees.
“Holy fuck! Do you know how long it’s been since someone knocked me out?” he complained.
“A week?”
“I was trampled! There’s a difference.”
I prowled the room and spotted a door hidden in deep darkness. It swung inward to show a darker room beyond which even my eyes had trouble seeing, but my other senses telling me the room was empty. I spotted candles, flint and steel. I got the stumps lit and inspected the office. Tablets and parchment lay scattered about. As I poked among them, I saw notes on people who had been tortured and their ‘confessions’.