“So this is the torment? His name is Ted,” I said low under my breath. “By the looks of him, I suppose he would be tormented,” I said not realizing the sick humor.
He opened his mouth, and out of the blackness emerged the deafening sound of metal scraping concrete, a thousand fingernails scraping a chalkboard, a symphony of death.
After he finished his tantrum, he fiercely charged in my direction. I stood firm and pointed my flintlock pistol at his stomach. Just before he reached me I pulled the trigger, and the round silver ball shot forth from the barrel. The shot struck him and went straight through, smacking one of the arena’s many columns. Small fragments of the burlap flew into the air. He quickly halted his approach and looked down at his abdomen where the shot had hit. I waited for him to fall, but he didn’t. Instead, he stretched out his arms, lifted his head, and released another ear-piercing battle cry. The shot had only angered him more. He charged again. Just before he tackled me, I sidestepped to the left, stuffing his takedown attempt.
I threw my pistol to the arena floor and drew my dagger. I trembled at the thought of fighting him at close range. He swung his stone club overhead and sprinted forward. Despite his huge stature, he was agile. I sidestepped to the right this time and thrust my dagger forward. I missed and quickly backpedaled, creating some distance between Torment Ted and me. He charged yet again, and I was like the red cape to the bull. But before he could score a takedown, I scrambled to the left and struck him in the side. At the same time I felt scraping across my right arm, and I could feel extreme exfoliation of my skin. He had also struck. The stone club tore away some of my flesh, and blood flowed down my arm. He had grazed me, but I was lucky the blow hadn’t crushed me.
He released another metallic shout as he sensed blood. He dashed in my direction, as fierce as ever. I bent and rolled to the side while extending my dagger and cut a piece of burlap from his leg. He stumbled backward in shock. After removing a tiny portion of his leg, I fled to the opposite side of the arena to await his collapse, but he continued his forward approach relentlessly. It was clear he was not going to stop until I was bits of pulverized bone lying on the arena floor. While I was delivering blows to my enemy, I was not issuing the fatal ones I desperately needed, so I decided to do something brash. I took my dagger by the blade and threw it toward his head. He swung his massive club at the exact moment the knife arrived in front of his face and struck the knife to the ground. I was doomed.
I needed to retrieve my dagger, but after the heavy blow from the club, I wondered if it was even salvageable. The problem was that the dagger had landed far from me, and Torment Ted towered in between. I didn’t have time to reload my pistol, and besides, I had lost track of it when I threw it to the ground. I doubted that an unarmed match with the giant brown bag man would end in my favor. What could I possibly do—unthread him?
It didn’t take long for him to race forward, and I seized the opportunity. I dodged his attack and ran toward the dagger as fast as I could. I grabbed it from the ground and saw the blade was bent slightly, but it still looked functional.
Ted showed some frustration that I had thwarted his onslaught thus far. He charged head forward this time as if to ram me with his gigantic cranium. I waited until he lost momentum and jumped sideways to the right and sliced the top of his skull with the dagger. As the knife cut through the coarse material, he winced. The blade had ripped from the corner of his eye to the back of his head. He fell to his knees and onto his back with his legs bent under him.
I waited a few minutes for him to pop back up, but he didn’t. He remained motionless. The cut had peeled off the top of what should have been his skull, revealing blackness where the brain would have been. After growing a little more courage I crept over to his inanimate body. I looked inside and saw only emptiness. He was entirely hollow—nothing more than sacks sewn together. It seemed he was tormented by his own emptiness.
I looked down at my dagger and looked at him, still in shock from the whole ordeal. I gathered myself and began my search for the pistol. Once I located it, I reloaded and tucked it back into my belt along with my damaged dagger.
I looked around the room for an exit as I was clearly in dire need of one. My eyes scanned the entire room, but there was only one door, and it was the same one through which I had entered. I sank to my knees and wept. I had come all this way only to reach a dead end. The gray-skinned man in The Hall of Ridicule had said that if I could defeat torment, I would be awarded a valuable weapon and granted permission to the outside. It appeared he had lied.
I had cried alone for quite some time when my eyes inadvertently fell upon something worth investigating. A portion of the wall between two of the columns looked weak and was crumbling. I pulled myself together and trudged over to the deterioration. For no reason at all, or maybe just to take my frustrations out, I removed my dagger and beat on the crumbling stone with the hilt. It started to give way. After I chiseled a small hole, I was overwhelmed with excitement. There was another room behind the crumbling wall. Quickly I hammered harder and harder. It was getting easier as pieces of stone flew outward. I stepped back and looked at my labor. I had done it. I had made an opening large enough for me and my gear to fit through.
With a sense of accomplishment I climbed through and entered into a small, round chamber. At the center was a gold stand that held a magnificent broadsword. I picked it up and freed it from its obsidian sheath. The double-edged sword was black except for five gold strips that encircled the hilt. Even though the blade was the color of night, it shined as though it had never seen battle. I placed the sword back into its sheath and placed it under my belt. There was no doubt this was the valuable weapon the gray-skinned man said I would be awarded if I defeated the torment. But where was the exit he said I would be granted?
I noticed a small dirt shaft behind the sword’s stand. It looked to be leading upward and to be just wide and tall enough to accommodate me. I entered the hole and crawled on my stomach and forearms. This was reminiscent of the earlier crawl during which I had encountered the worms. I hoped there would be no such nuisance in this crawlspace.
After traveling along the hole for about thirty feet, I could see a glimmer of daylight, a sight I had not seen in a long time. I crawled faster and faster until I reached the end of the tunnel. A hole about the size of my fist was now in front of me with light visible on the other side. I extended my hands and pushed through the dirt, breaking free and into the open air. I pulled myself from the dirt and into a wooded area on the opposite side of the canyon from the crypt I had entered earlier. Tired and overwhelmed, I collapsed on the forest floor.
Chapter Nine
A Forest Burial Ground
I regained consciousness many hours later. It was unknown exactly how much time I had slept, but I felt well-rested enough to move onward. I pulled myself to my feet and surveyed my surroundings. It was daylight, and I could see my new environment clearly. The forest was green, and numerous large trees made themselves home here. Thick vines and brush attached themselves to the bark and sprang out, immersing the area in natural greenery. These woods were not at all like the blue forest. Here the leaves were a standard green that did not glow. It had the overall appearance of a normal ecosystem except for one thing—animals.
I strained my ears but heard no sound of forest animals playing in the picturesque scenery. But I did hear the sound of rushing water nearby, and I quickly advanced as I was in serious need of refreshment. I followed the sound threading across soft lush grasses. Just up ahead was a river and it looked all too inviting.
The river was flowing steadily but not so rapidly that I would be swept away. Near the banks it was shallow enough to drink and wash. I bent down and lapped the cold water into my mouth like a wild animal. After quenching my thirst, I withdrew the canteen from my pack and refilled it. Now that I had water, it was time to focus on a bath, and I surely needed one.
I removed my filthy clothes, which were not much
more than rags, and took a dip in the cleansing waters. After I had washed off, I dunked my clothes into the water. I put them back on and was as clean as possible. Then I needed some food. I scanned the area and located a bush with the same delicious wild berries that were found back at my cabin in the skull wasteland. I loaded some into my mouth and almost choked when I attempted to swallow the lot. After I finished eating, I placed some berries into my pack for later.
I was ready to find The Black Castle. According to the sheriff in The Town of Diminished Desire, The Purple Swan made its home just beyond this castle. So that was definitely where I needed to go. I began to recall a certain old foe and came to a new realization. I must tread carefully as the beast and its horrible master might be somewhere close by. The last time I saw the jackal and his violinist was from the other side of the canyon, and they were on the side where I now stood. I knew the encounter was inevitable, but I couldn’t know its time or location, so I must be prepared.
Away from the river I could see the edge of the canyon. I was closer to my destination, but I felt a sense of displacement as I was farther from home than I had ever been. I turned back to face the beyond. The sheriff had said the castle was northwest of the town, but I was no longer near the town, so I had no idea where to plot my course. I guessed I would just start walking and look for a large black fortress.
I fought my way through the thick brush and noticed a dirt road just ahead. Once I made it onto the dirt road, I felt a little better about my direction. The road was carved into the forest and was wide enough to accommodate several mounted riders side-by-side. The ground was generally level, and it made for fast, easy travel. It was obvious this road was built intentionally for frequent travel. I wondered where it led—straight to the castle doors, I hoped—where I could ask for further directions from the castle master.
I continued on the dirt road for quite some time, and hoped I was heading toward the castle. The road twisted and turned through the forest and snaked around small inclines on each side. It was so narrow I didn’t have to worry about surprise attacks as it would have been impossible for any lurking marauders to conceal themselves.
Just ahead I saw a tall stone building that extended far above the forest canopy. It appeared to be an observation tower. I knew this would be an ideal spot to look for a better course. The building looked like it had been built long ago and had not been used in quite some time, so I decided it needed further scrutiny. Although the tower appeared as if it could collapse at any moment, I was willing to take the risk. I forced the rusted iron door open to reveal a deteriorating staircase. It wound around the square tower until it reached its top and appeared to be fastened onto the side of the tower walls with large iron nails. There were a few platforms missing, and I supposed I would have to jump from one to the other in several places.
I slowly started to ascend with each stair creaking under my weight. I made it to the first platform, which was missing a few steps, so I would have to jump and grab the first step about six feet away.
“Here goes nothing,” I announced, feeling like an acrobat. I jumped and grabbed the step with both hands. Then I pulled myself up onto it. Just when I was about to rest on the step, I heard a breaking sound. The entire stairwell was about to give. It was not too far to the bottom of the tower, but I feared the entire scaffolding would fall on top of me, crushing me instantly. There was no time to wait for that, so I let my body fall to the ground.
I landed hard and fell onto my back, knocking the wind out of me. I sprang to my feet as fast as I could while still being winded and sprinted for the door. As soon as I exited the tower, the entire stairwell collapsed, sending dirt and dust flying everywhere.
“Well, I suppose that’s that,” I said, feeling lucky to have avoided being crushed and buried under the twisted rubble. “I’ll just have to trust the road.”
I moved on down the dirt road looking for any signs of a castle. Along the sides of the road were many stone blocks with some in a square formation as if they had been foundations for several buildings. The entire area was littered with ruins of what may have been a once great city. It must have been long ago as trees had now sprouted and grown in the center of some of the areas where the buildings once stood. I wondered what had happened to force these people to abandon their homes. Where were their descendants, or were they wiped into oblivion? Does their disappearance have anything to do with The Black Castle or the violinist and his jackal? I was hoping to find these answers and many more.
Ahead I saw ivory-colored objects lying to the left and right of the roadway. I moved closer to the woods to examine them more carefully. I gasped at what my inspection revealed, bones—thousands, perhaps millions of bones. I picked up one of the skulls that had numerous fractures at the top of the cranium and around the forehead. The marks were vertical and about three to four inches long. They appeared to have been made by violent blows to the head by heavy swords. It was apparent where I now stood was once a battleground as armor and weapons rested near some of the deceased. I scanned the area and observed that most of the remains were facing each other as if they had been locked in a fatal duel. I certainly believed this sinister scene was somehow related to the violinist and the beast.
I made my way back to the dirt path and carried on. I felt a sense of mourning as these individuals had not been given a proper burial but had been left to rot on the battlefield. I knew I couldn’t bury their remains; there were far too many for one person to perform such a massive excavation and funeral.
The graveyard of bones carried on for miles from where I had first stopped to investigate the remains. It appeared that most of the soldiers on both sides had been annihilated in this great battle in the forest.
A large building just ahead caught my attention. The structure had collapsed except for one lone wall. There were large bricks scattered about with some blocking the dirt roadway. From the size of the foundation, it was clear it had been a castle. But it wasn’t The Black Castle for which I was searching. The bricks were gray, not black. This castle must have housed the ruler of these lands, and I assumed from the ruins that he had been on the losing end of the battle. I climbed onto one of the many stone blocks and looked about the area. The land had a sense of defeat and might have been entirely hopeless except for the beautiful plants that now made the kingdom home. I jumped down from the stone brick and marched onward in search of The Black Castle, which I supposed housed the winner of this ancient war.
As I walked away from the ruined castle I began to feel a sense of vertigo, as if something had tampered with my equilibrium. The trees on the side of the road were slanted to the right and the dirt pathway looked to be curling upward and then downward in continuous patterns as far as my eyes could see. I stopped to close my eyes and shake my head in an effort to shift my brain back into place, but that didn’t help. When I opened my eyes, I saw the same lopsided scene. I began to think my eyes were the problem, so I looked down at my shirt, but my vision was crystal clear. It was not my eyesight but the land itself. With no other choice, I proceeded down the road.
Only a few feet away, just off the dirt path, was a wooden shack that slanted to the right. It was so off balance it was a wonder that it still stood at all. I approached the crooked habitation, and when I reached its uneven, rotted wooden door, I knocked firmly to let my presence be known. I was not exactly sure why I knocked at the door as I really didn’t expect anyone to answer. Who would live in such a nauseatingly lopsided home? I was about to find out.
An elderly man wearing animal skins answered the door, leaving it barely open to avoid giving away any details of the interior. He looked ragged and completely out of touch with his surroundings. Maybe it was the fact that everything was slanted except him. Or maybe it was simply a misjudgment of character. At any rate, he did have the outward appearance of someone not living in reality.
“Good early evening,” he said with a pleasant smile. “We have been expecting you.”
“How did you know I was coming?” I asked in amazement.
“You always come, but you never leave,” he said while staring at the ground with an air of failure.
“You are mistaken. I have never been here before.”
“You haven’t exactly, but you have now.”
“What are you going on about?” I asked while fighting to maintain my composure. Maybe I should just agree with him.
“You are always like this. I suppose I was, too, at first.”
“Like what?”
“You are always reluctant to believe me at first, but then, eventually, you grow out of your denial.”
“What denial?” I said with a slight sense of anger.
Why was it that whenever I asked questions that were as plain as could possibly be I never really got a complete answer? It seemed to be this way with almost everyone I met, and I was growing tired of the whole charade of vague, misleading, disappointing circumlocution. I always seemed to end up exactly where I had been prior to asking the question.
“I am you,” said the old man. “I am the ‘you’ who existed many years ago but never made it out of this forest.”
“That is impossible!”
“No, it is not—not here, anyway. I am Vincent Carpenter—the older you.”
“No, you are not. Stop saying that. You are driving me mad!”
“Well, how is this to prove my claim?” said the old man who said he was me. “You are in search of The Green Maiden, are you not?”
“Yes, but anyone could have told you that. She could have come by here herself, or the violinist could have been here. That’s it. You’re working with the mad violinist who controls that beast. You are in league with him to drive me insane so that I will give up my quest!” I shouted at the top of my lungs, and I raised my finger at him.
The Spitting Post Page 10