Lycenea

by Rory D Nelson

  (2)

  Morgana conveys her pernicious assaults to Herod and smiles wolfishly. Herod smiles back, beaming. “Will he commit to us, Morgana?” asks Herod. “Will your barrage put him over the top?”

  Morgana smiles seductively. “I am no prognosticator, Herod. But he is breaking. I can feel it.”

  “Ask him,” commands Herod.

  “I sense he is not ready. If we push too hard, he may break under the pressure and seek safe refuge.” She looks at Herod intently with slightly squinted eyes and a furrowed brow. “In the arms of The Merlin. If that happens, he will be lost to us. Do you not ken?”

  “He is ready. Ask him. We need him. Strong-willed boys like him are reluctant to seek refuge. You may know his mind, but I know his heart. We are of the same stock.”

  Morgana relents. “Ai. Will trust your opinion, Herod-Sai. It has served us well.”

  “I have faith in you, enchantress. You are an irresistible seductress no man can resist, especially a pube on the verge of discovering his manhood. He will be soft clay in your hands, ready to mold to joint purpose.”

  “I would have your faith well-placed Herod-Sai. Let us speak with the boy,” says Morgana encouragingly.

  Herod cups her hands affectionately. “My faith has always been well placed in you. We are well met, are we not?”

  “Ai.”

  (3)

  Unable to free his mind from the relentless visions, Maximus distances himself from the rest of the group. He sits alone. By most accounts, he would have appeared to be sulking. Those that observe him assume that it is over a broken heart, perhaps over some girl who he could not get to notice him.

  And so on his free time, he walks out into town along the cobblestone walkway, hoping for clarity. A passerby nods at him respectfully, but he is oblivious-until he notices Chastity. She notices the sullen look on his face and smiles reassuringly. She approaches him and he immediately warms to her presence.

  “How fareth, young Sai?” She asks as she pats his leg affectionately. He instinctively covers himself as her beauty stimulates him uncontrollably. He averts his body, hoping to hide the rise in his pantalones.

  “Well. How fareth you, Lady Chastity and Herod-Sai.”

  Morgana smiles at him, in her most seductive smile she can muster. He cups his hand over his pantalones. She merely laughs it off and pats his shoulder affectionately. “We are well met, handsome one. Set watch to mutual pleasantries.”

  “Permission to sit a spell with you, young one?” asks Herod.

  Maximus nods. “I would appreciate the company.”

  Herod sits next to him on one side and Morgana sits on the other.

  Herod looks at Maximus in a conspiratorial manner. “You know young Sai, as Council, I am privy to much gossip in town. The Brethren have been talking about you recruits and it seems they have found their favorite.” He pauses and sighs sadly. “I cry pardon to say it’s not you they favor.”

  Maximus looks up, eager to hear such gossip. “Who then?”

  “They have found favorite among bitter rival. It is Dante. They feel he will excel and make a most worthy leader among all recruits.”

  Maximus is a little dubious. “But why Herod-Sai would they utter such a claim? To what purpose? They take our instruction to hard purpose. To utter such a remark does not seem fitting.”

  Herod nods. “Ai. Does not. But like all men, the Brethren are not immune to the effects alcohol has on the tongue. Now, mind you it was just a rumor, but a rumor nonetheless from a reliable source.”

  “Whom?” asks Maximus.

  “Torkor, the bar owner of Mill’s Tavern. He is quite reputable and has no reputation for fluffery.”

  Maximus nods, with eyes downcast, clearly forlorn over such news. It is the news he had been suspecting but had never been sure until now. Torkor’s reputation is beyond reproach, a man well-respected among town folk.

  “Will have to prove them of my worth, so I will.”

  Herod looks at Maximus dubiously. “If that were only enough, young-Sai. Your errant ways as of late have caught the eyes of Dottore and Merlin. They remain steadfast and undeterred in opinions of recruits. You were once held in the highest regard, but not now. You have fallen from grace. It has been so ever since Dante has arrived at school. He is a poison that leaches into the Brotherhood and threatens to affect us all.”

  Herod looks at Maximus, hoping to drive in this claim with reckless determination. “Us all, young Sai. Do you doubt what I am telling you? Look into your heart and see the truth.”

  Maximus looks contemplative and with Morgana’s suggestion, he sees himself displaced and Dante in the lead. He beats his fists into the wall, causing the blood to seep out in small amounts.

  Morgana stops him with a comforting gesture and looks into his eyes.

  “But you are not powerless, young Sai. The clay not yet finished, ready to mold to joint purpose, but you must act. The future you see before you is not inevitable.”

  “What must I do?”

  “Primera Docturna. First Test. It is your first test and the one that will decide a number of recruits who will stay. And who will go.”

  “You would have me sabotage the Games? It is not possible. I am on high alert with Dottore and Merlin. They will not permit me free reign.”

  Herod looks at Maximus intently. “Young-Sai, I do not expect you to do anything of the sorts. I know the Test is sometime between the Passover of Simon and Primera Lentus, but I don’t know exactly when and where. Simply inform me and I promise to remove the burden. Forever. Never more will you be asked to defer to him. Ever again.”

  Maximus shakes his head. “We recruits are not even privy, Herod-Sai. What you ask of me is not possible. I cry pardon, but I have my limits. Even if I knew, it would be a serious breach. Sacrilege. You were once recruited. Do you ken?”

  Herod gets up abruptly, clearly miffed by Maximus’ gruff manner. “What I ask, young-Sai, I ask on behalf of Gilleon and the common good. Search my words and warrant, it is not something I ask of you lightly. And warrant this, it is your duty, to uphold all that is precious in our society.”

  Maximus looks at Herod indignantly. “Then if what you say is true, why broach such a dire situation with an inexperienced recruit? Why not just plead your case with Merlin and Dottore? Perhaps if I spoke to them on your behalf, they-” Herod cuts him off and speaks quietly yet menacingly, pursing his lips as he speaks to convey the seriousness. “Because, young – Sai, your Dottore, and Merlin are part of the conspiracy.”

  Maximus averts his gaze from Herod, considering the possibility. And realizes, he had considered such. He looks back at Herod, hoping to find the answer to the maelstrom that threatens to spin out of control, but finds no solace.

  He looks at Herod then at Chastity, who looks at him with measured sympathy. “If I decide to help, and I will make no promise, but if I were given to, I would need some assurances.”

  “Name them, young Sai and see them brought to fruition.”

  He ventures further, feeling the pangs of guilt eat through him like acidic water into his mouth. He can almost taste it. “If deed were ever revealed, you could not reveal the name or sully me, in any way.”

  “Done,” replies Herod. “Anything else?”

  “Ai. Most important. When you remove him, you must not allow any physical harm to come to him. He is only to be removed from the rectory. And that is all. I may ask to see him, and if I do, you will present him to me. You ken?”

  “Ai. Set watch and warrant it. You have my word-the word of esteemed Senator.”

  “This is no agreement, mind you.”

  Herod smiles conspiratorially. “No, young Sai. Of course not. We are merely speaking hypothetically.”

  Herod pats his leg reassuringly. Morgana casually moves even closer to him, pats his leg also and kisses him affectionately on the cheek. He blushes in response.

  They walk off and go to the dance floor, blending in with the crowd. Few take n
otice of them when they are speaking with Maximus. Morgana ensures this with her implanted suggestions.

  Chapter 30: The Violation absorbed

  Beads of sour sweat rundown Merlin’s naked body in torrents as he feels like what is hundreds of groping hands explore and violate his body. He tries to push them away but his hands are shackled behind him.

  He is powerless to stop the hands from grabbing his genitals roughly, slapping his balls and then sticking dirty fingers in his every orifice. He cries out but to no avail. He writhes and cries out and finally acquiesces to the rape.

  He slows his breathing and instead concentrates on breaking free from his handcuffs. He turns his wrists unnaturally until he hears a snap and then forces the cuffs over his wrist, one by one. The owners of the hands seem to take little notice of his attempted escape.

  While he is removing his cuffs, he is forced against a wall and bent over, while one man attempts to sodomize him repeatedly. Merlin bucks and writhes but he is as helpless as a worm on a hook.

  His sense of time seems to have become seriously skewed. What should have taken only a minute to do seem like it is taking an hour. It is as if his movements have become like slow motion. The overly well hung man who is sodomizing him pushes his head into the wall and slams into him repeatedly.

  He cries out in anguish and then feels the cuffs slide off of him. He makes his move and slams his head down into the man raping him, dazing him. Merlin pivots around and drives his fist up into his rapist’ nose, sending the cartilage through his brain, killing him. The man drops. Merlin turns around and pulls out his sword, slashing, pirouetting and pivoting, slashing through tender flesh. Severed body parts are strewn around like some macabre puppet demolition. Blood flow erupts from every major artery in countless men, drenching the ground in crimson. Men trip on the blood soaked hardpan.

  Despite Merlin’s abilities, the groping hands continue to claw, tug and violate him. He cries out in anguish, unable to defend himself from the hands, no matter how much he slashes and defends himself.

  Once again, he is thrown against the wall and another man with large genitals begins to violate him. Merlin wails in torment. Desperately, he swings his head back, knocking the man behind him in the nose, breaking it. The sound is a sickening thud that reminds him of a heavy boot that steps into thick mud.

  The man is dazed but the hands continue. Merlin pulls his shooters and begins to fire and wakes.

  He stops himself before he fires another slug into the window opposite his bed. He awakes to the real world, gasping for breath, a scream seems lodged in his throat. He hears Chelsea under the bed with Shadow.

  “Oh my God! It was just a dream. It was just a dream,” says Merlin with labored breaths.

  Chelsea crawls out from the bed with Shadow timidly. “Put the gun away!” She pleads.

  Her face is ashen and nearly as sweaty as Merlin’s and her hair is plastered to her face. “You could have killed us, Perronius. I can’t take this anymore!”

  Merlin gets up, puts his gun in the safe and puts on some leggings. He goes to her but she rebuffs him.

  “I’m sorry.” He says through labored breaths.

  “You could have killed us. It’s that little girl, isn’t it?”

  Merlin nods. “Ai. The nightmares will abate in time. I assure you.”

  “You never just purged her of those memories. Did you? Oh no, they had to go somewhere. Didn’t they? Before this happened, you only slept three hours a night. Now, you sleep less than an hour.”

  “As with everything, I will acclimate to it. I just need time.” He pleads.

  Tears stream down Chelsea’s face and she nods her head. “They’ll never end. You didn’t purge those memories. You took them upon yourself! It’s always been your way! You take the problems of the world and place them on your back.”

  “I did what I had to do.”

  “Without consulting me. You never consult me. You bring horrors into our bedchamber and you don’t even think to ask me or talk about it with me.”

  “I’m sorry, but I told you about it.”

  “After you saw deed done.”

  Merlin sighs. “This is the role of a knight.”

  Chelsea shakes her head. “I’m tired of being married to the god of Lycenea. You're taciturn, tenacious and maddeningly focused to the point of damnation. A stampede of wild horses could not deter you from purpose. There is no one you listen to-not even your wife!”

  “It is who you married.”

  “You are unflappable to the world, but I know you are not a god. Someday you’re going to realize that. I didn’t know what I was getting into when I married you!”

  “I will let you out of your matrimonial vows. It is my right to do so as a lead knight. There is no length I would not go to see you happy.”

  “Grant me a divorce? Ai. That would behoove me well, would it not?” She asks facetiously. “Then I would forever be known as the woman who divorced the Merlin. Even the leper colonies would shun such a woman.”

  “I could divorce you on the grounds-” Merlin stops himself short.

  Tears stream down her face. “On what basis, Merlin? Say it! On the basis that I can’t bear you any children? I sometimes wonder why you chose me, even when you found out I was barren.”

  “Because you’re my true love. Always will be.”

  Chelsea advances on him and slaps him. Her capriciousness catches Merlin by surprise.

  “I’ve also grown tired of your maddening ingratiating behavior. Must you also be a Goddam saint as well as the perfect husband? You’re exasperating.”

  She rushes out in a huff. Before she gets to the door, Merlin asks, “Where are you going?”

  “Some place safe where I don’t have to worry about getting my head blown off. You ken?”

  She slams the door so violently, the hinges vibrate, threatening to come off. Shadow pokes his head out and whimpers. Shadow looks at him for several seconds, unsure. “Go to her.” He says.

  Shadow walks to the door and turns the knob with his mouth and runs to his mistress.

  Still having lingering memories of painful violation, Merlin goes out to his barn to train. And with each punch, jab, roundhouse and kick, the groping hands begin to subside. Merlin pushes himself on until they subside completely. At least for another night.

  Chapter 31: Escape

  Felinius consults his thematic for exiting the castle. It is a veritable maze of small, knee-deep trenches, ill-maintained catacombs and barely functioning stairwells, which had seen little use; and it greatly complicates matters with the castle on high alert.

  Felinius uses his speed-shooter sparingly and only when necessity dictates. He prefers to use his plethora of throwing knives, making his kills quiet. He can do nothing to muffle the sound of the hand cannons.

  Once when four lads had gotten a temporary drop on him is he forced to unload several rounds, which no doubt draws the attention of several soldiers in the vicinity.

  Felipides complains constantly, irritating him needlessly. After almost two hours of dodging soldiers, climbing through muck-filled sewers, cramming in claustrophobic tunnels with zero visibility and climbing down stairwells that nearly disintegrate with each step, Felinius had finally succeeded in exiting out of the castle. He approaches the small rowboat Jaden promised him.

  Of all the people to perform their duties at such a level of perfection, Felinius would never have guessed it would be Jaden. He had never completely trusted the pube Fucker, but it seemed his trust was misplaced.

  Felinius, on the other hand, had not performed perfectly. There were always unpredictable variables that could never be accounted for; but, if he had learned the names of the guards directly in the castle, he would not be in such dire circumstances.

  Felinius motions Felipides into the rowboat. “Go.”

  Felipides removes a kerchief from his pocket, in an attempt to clean up the muck in the boat. As he does, Felinius slugs him sharply in the kidneys.
He bellows out. “Get in. Now.” He looks at Felipides with ruthless seriousness. “If your men are around and see you, they may have nervous trigger fingers and kill you instead. We don’t have time to detail the boat to your liking. Now go.”

  “Ai,” responds Felipides reluctantly. Felinius follows him and ducks down, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. It is much more difficult for Felipides, who stands well over a head taller than Felinius.

  Felinius smacks him in the gut, eliciting a moan. “Duck down, pube fucker.”

  Felinius rows out across the moat, listening intently for men in pursuit. He hears some, but they are far off and not of an immediate threat.

  The soft churning of the oars against the water has the effect of calming Felipides. He maintains faith that his father will meet Felinius’ demands.

  “What do you wish to obtain with ransom? It is why you have kidnapped me, is it not?”

  “That is not for you to know, boy.”

  “I’m no boy. I’m twenty-one.”

  “Years don’t make the man, boy. Experience does and you have experienced little of the real world outside castle walls. You hole up in your castle, venture out for whore-mongering and drink, while others serve your selfish needs. You pleasure yourself on innocent pubes, with no inkling of the real world. You are a boy. Mayhaps one day, you will venture out of castle walls to see how real men of worth live.’’

  “You think you know all, assassin, but you know little of me. I would not deign to discuss such with a traitor like you,” says Felipides acidly.

  “I’m no traitor, pube. A pledge of allegiance never granted to King or country. I am from Gilleon.”

  Felipides smiles, enjoying the moment the insult would have on him. “You mistake intent. I was speaking of Gilleon, the country you have committed treason against.”

  “Where did you hear such rumor?” asks Felinius.

  “I know who you are, assassin. You are Felinius. Are you not?”

  “Ai. Well. Then you know of my reputation. You ken?”

  Felipides nods. “Ai. Your reputation is as deadly killer precedes you. You are one of the deadliest killers around. Warrant such. Eyes privy to first hand deed.”