“Nice theory, but no, that is incorrect. What about the duel you just had with Torment Ted? I had the same exact duel many years ago in which I injured my arm when his stone club grazed it,” he said as he motioned to my arm.
“So what? You could have been spying on me. That doesn’t prove a thing!” I yelled while still pointing my finger in an accusing manner.
“But you had to smash your way through the arena wall to get out of the underground palace, did you not? How would I have made it out before you if I were just watching you and not participating in the actual battle?” calmly replied the old man. “You know, sometimes it gets old explaining this story over and over and over. I wish that, just once, one of us would make it.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” I screamed. “Who is us?”
“Come in and find out. Satisfy your curiosity,” said the man who said he was me. He opened the door to reveal three other men sitting on the dirt floor of the shack. It was dark inside the quaint building, and it was impossible to see the men’s faces. The interior of the shack was void of any furniture or decorative accessories. It almost appeared that no one lived here, or ever had.
“Who are they?”
“Come in. Please, come in,” one of the three men said most politely.
“No way! You come out here!” I shouted fiercely.
The old man held the door as one of the other men got up from the dirt floor and made his way to the door. He looked just a few years younger than the old man, but he seemed slightly familiar to me, though I couldn’t pinpoint why. Another man rose and walked to the door. He looked even more familiar than the previous man. It was obvious that each man began to look more and more familiar to me as they came through the door. Each favored the other as if they were kin. Yet another man rose and walked to the door, and when the daylight shone upon his face, I stepped backward; I knew then where I had seen him. I had seen him in the mirror on multiple occasions. He was me. A few years older, but it was me.
“This is impossible,” I muttered to myself.
“I am Vincent Carpenter the First,” said the old man.
“I am Vincent Carpenter the Second,” said the next to oldest.
“I am Vincent Carpenter the Third,” said the next man in line.
“I am Vincent Carpenter the Fourth,” said the man I recognized as me.
“That makes you Vincent Carpenter the Fifth,” said the old man who identified himself as the original Vincent Carpenter, Vincent Carpenter the First.
I couldn’t take the shock, so I sat on the ground just outside the slanted shack. How could I be the fifth Vincent Carpenter? This would mean the battle with Torment Ted was one that had happened before and would keep on happening. The same would be true for all the other events. I thought I was making progress only to discover I was not the only Vincent Carpenter to make it this far. And if the others couldn’t make it out of this forest, how could I? I felt truly defeated as though nothing I had accomplished thus far had mattered at all.
“How did you guys get stuck here?” I asked in a much calmer tone than I had previously, but with my voice quivering. Anyone who had been listening to my speech and observing my expression could tell the sense of defeat I was feeling.
“We came here the same as you, by defeating Torment Ted and exiting the underground palace. We also had the exact same adventures as you did prior to those encounters. We walked through the fields with the wailing weeping willows. We fought with the beast and his master. We met and freed the puppets from their cruel master. Everything you have done, we have done,” replied Vincent Carpenter the First. “After arriving here in this forest just beyond the castle ruins, we became stuck. We tried to leave and went to the left and to the right and straight and in between, but to no avail.”
He said they became stuck right after leaving the castle ruins. This was about the time I first experienced vertigo. That must be where the vortex began.
“So what now?” I asked, not sure if I wanted that question to be answered. “Do we wait until there are as many as twenty Vincents?”
“I don’t know. I suppose this will go on until one of us finds a way out. But try we have, only to fail. And as far as now goes, we have given up,” answered Vincent Carpenter the First. “You will get acquainted with it after a while. It just takes time. Trust me. We did.”
But I didn’t want to get acquainted with it. I wanted out of this virtual prison and back into my search for The Green Maiden.
“I know what you are thinking,” said Vincent the First. “You are thinking about her. That, too, will pass. We have almost forgotten about her altogether. Well, except for Vincent The Fourth. He is still new compared to the rest of us. Come on. It is time to get some rest. I know you have had a long day, and sleep will help ease your mind.”
“One more question before we retire for the night,” I said pleadingly.
“Okay. What is it?” asked the First.
“What happened to those people back in the ruins? Why were they fighting?”
“None of us know because we never made it beyond here, and we never went back to the ruins because what would the point be in going back to where we had already been?” replied Vincent the First. “Come now, let us go in for the night.”
We entered the shack one by one and lay down on the uncomfortable ground. We slept in numerical order from Vincent One to me, Vincent Five. It was cramped in the tiny shack, and we barely had any space to ourselves with only about a foot between each of us. I knew that my inclusion in this dysfunctional party had only made the space smaller and eventually, we would need to make renovations to expand this small home in the woods.
I didn’t sleep at all that night. I wanted out—out of this cursed forest. I could not rest until I escaped. But I began to think maybe the old man was right and that, eventually, I would get used to it and just live here with me, myself, my other selves, and I. Maybe I was no more special than my previous selves, and I would never find my way out of here. I quickly tried to shake this negative thinking. I would try anyway, regardless of the outcome. I would need to wait until daylight to find my way, and I tossed and turned until then.
When daylight arrived, I arose and made sure my gear was packed—not their gear, but mine. They had the same weapons I did, but I wanted mine, the ones I had worked for, the ones I had earned.
I tiptoed to the door and eased it open. The other four Vincents rose automatically.
“Where are you going?” said the First. “This had never happened before. We always rest on the first complete day of arrival to find the exit on the second complete day.”
“And how has that worked for you? Things are different now that I have arrived. Anyone who wants to journey with me on my quest can accompany me, although I’m not sure what we’ll do when we find The Green Maiden because there will be too many of us.”
The other four returned to their slumber.
“Knock yourself out,” said the First. “You will never find that exit and will be back before long.”
“Don’t count on me returning,” I said, and I shut the door behind me.
I walked down the dirt road and figured that I would try the easiest route first. I would just follow the road to its end. Maybe this was so easy that it had been overlooked. I doubted this, but I kept to the route regardless. I laughed for a moment as that strange encounter with the prior Vincents had brought a new meaning to talking to yourself.
I could see a narrow stone bridge crossing a small ravine with a stream at the cliff’s bottom. I stopped to get my bearings. I turned around and saw the shack some distance behind. “So the shack is behind me, and the bridge is in front of me. Let’s try crossing the bridge—after all, I have come to it,” I said to amuse myself—just the one me.
I marched toward the bridge, and when I came close, a light flashed before me and forced me to shut my eyes. When I opened them I was back in front of the wood shack with the castle ruins behind me.
&nb
sp; “Well, now I know that’s not the way.”
I tried going to the left and off the dirt roadway into the woods. I was not sure how, if I ever reached the exit of the vortex, I would be able to climb the ninety-degree angle out of the ravine wall. The ravine could not have been more than twenty feet deep, but it was straight up and down on both sides until you reached the stream. With no ropes, I could not climb down and out of such a hole as the sides offered no footing or any handholds. I would just have to deal with that obstacle when, or if, I came to it.
I was trailblazing through the woods when, suddenly, the same light flashed again, and I was removed from my current spot back to the shack with the castle ruins behind me. This was a no-go. I tried turning to the right and off the dirt roadway into the woods, but the same light came at me and sent me back to the shack with the castle ruins behind me. This was a no-go as well.
I began to get frustrated and sat briefly to plot my next course of action. I thought I would try entering the woods to the left of the dirt roadway, but instead of going straight from the road and paralleling the ravine, I would go toward it at an angle. I tried this and to no surprise, it failed, and the light reclaimed me again. This time when I was sent back to the shack, my other selves were gathered outside waiting for my frustrated return. I supposed they had awakened and gone outdoors to observe my defeat.
“I told you there was no use, didn’t I?” my First self said.
I refrained from responding because nothing nice would have exited from my mouth.
I tried yet again, but instead of going left, I went right into the woods and attacked the ravine from an angle. The same light brought me back to the shack, and I screamed as loud as I could, my voice echoing throughout the land. Between my forced return to my future dwelling and the lopsidedness of the forest, I was growing even more insane with every passing minute.
“Let us know when you are done and finally give up. Meanwhile, we are going back inside to sleep as that is all there is to do here, sleep,” said me the First.
“Don’t expect me back anytime soon—or ever!” I shouted to myselves.
I sat on the ground with my head resting on my knees. What was there to try next? I had tried a straight approach, sideways approaches, and angled approaches, but all had failed. Just when I was about to give up and retreat to the shack, I realized there was one approach I had not yet attempted, a backward approach. Maybe I needed to go back to the beginning, back to where I had entered the vortex. It was a longshot, but I had to try it.
I got to my feet and was ready to try one more time—one more time for the history books. I marched down the dirt road with the castle ruins in front of me and the shack behind me. I hoped this would be the last time I would see that rickety old shack. I stopped a few feet before reaching the ruins.
“Here it goes,” I said, and I took a deep breath.
I stepped forward, and a light flashed before my eyes. After the light dissipated, I was left standing where the shack would have been, which was the opposite direction I was facing before the light flashed. I turned to look behind me, and the ruins were, indeed, there. I turned to where I had been facing, but there was no shack, there was no distorted view, and the land was no longer slanted. The trees remained straight up and down.
Stepping forward, I tried not to get my hopes up. Maybe I had exited the vortex only to walk back into it. But after several feet I concluded the spot where the vortex had begun was no more. I walked to where the shack had been, and there were only remains of a rotted, dilapidated building. I had made it. My theory had worked. It had been so simple. All that my other selves had to do was go back to where they had entered the vortex. Speaking of the others, I wondered what had happened to them. I didn’t know, but I was glad in some selfish way that I was the only one who had made it out.
With my newfound confidence, I walked toward the stone bridge that crossed the ravine. When I arrived, I noticed there was something new standing at the entrance. It was a knight in full armor, seven feet tall, and it was guarding the pathway. The knight was dressed in red battle gear. He wielded a ruby broadsword that was longer and wider than my blade. Atop his head was a crimson helmet with red eyes peering out. His visor shielded his nose and mouth, and I could not make out any human features. I quickly drew my weapon of choice, my new black sword. It was apparent there was going to be a battle.
“All I want to do is cross the bridge. Let me go, and I will do you no harm,” I pleaded.
He said nothing. Either he didn’t comprehend my words, or he just didn’t care. Instead of considering terms of a truce, he sprang forward in full attack mode.
He made a mad dash toward me, and I met his hostility with a charge of my own. I swung my blade toward his legs, hoping to bring him crashing to the ground. But just before my sword would have struck him above the knees, he parried the assault by sidestepping to the left. I instantly reorganized my attack by following his direction and swung again, this time toward his midsection. My sword struck his larger blade, and I feared for the stability of my sword. He had struck with a powerful force that I could barely defend. But my sword remained strong and intact. He drew his weapon back from mine and took another swing in an offensive assault of his own, but I managed to catch his blade against mine.
I drew my blade away from his weapon, and instead of swinging, I thrust forward in a stabbing attempt. But before my sword reached his chest, he jumped back. I stepped back as well, but he was too quick. I decided to aim low once again and hoped I could evade his upward swing. I swung my obsidian blade toward his legs, but he anticipated my move and met my blade with a defensive strike. I strategically backed away and fled from the knight. I quickly regrouped and charged with my sword swinging. He shot forward with his head down and his sword pointed at me as if to skewer my torso. I sidestepped to the right and delivered a direct blow to the head. His helmet creased under my hard strike, and he collapsed to the ground face first.
Electrical currents and wiring sprang from his head, and smoke billowed from beneath his armor. After the sparks subsided, I moved in for a closer look. I removed his helmet and unveiled a mechanical face. The red knight was nothing more than a robot designed to annihilate anyone who dared to attempt a crossing of the bridge. While I didn’t know the identity of the robot’s maker, I could only assume it was the work of the violinist. The mechanized soldier had the sinister appearance of something his twisted mind and hands would create.
Feeling exhausted from the grueling battle, I seized the moment to rest. Once I had recuperated, I crossed the bridge and kissed the ground on the other side. It was not so long ago that I thought I would never make it beyond the shack, that I would never make it to the bridge. Now I was on the other side, and it felt great.
Chapter Ten
The Black Castle Revealed
I walked far beyond the stone bridge, and when I was certain the ravine was no longer in sight, I decided to make camp for the night. I happily ate my ration of berries and drank water from my canteen. Once I had finished, I curled up under a tree next to the dirt road and went to sleep.
I woke the next morning from a great night’s rest, a slumber I had not known in ages. I was so relieved that I had found the exit portal and vanquished the red knight. But now I had bigger enemies in my sights—the beast and its master. But where were they hiding?
I gathered my gear and advanced toward The Black Castle, or my enemy, whichever came first. But for now I had to find my way out of the forest, so I followed the roadway once more trusting that it would lead to my destination. I still remembered the last words the violinist had spoken to me; they hung heavily on my bleeding heart. “You seek The Green Maiden. She is mine.”
What was that supposed to mean? Were they lovers? I certainly hoped that was not the case, and I shook the dreadful thought from my mind. It seemed that my brain always found the negative and fixated on it. I continued on the dirt pathway lined with more green trees and vines clinging
to them. The scenery was breathtakingly beautiful, but I longed for its end so I could reach The Black Castle and uncover its mystery. Perhaps then my bizarre journey would end.
Ahead I could see the end of the forest and then a small incline. I couldn’t see much of the land beyond the forest’s edge because of the way the path curved. I grew more anxious with every step, wondering what each stride would reveal to my curious eyes. There it was. The end of the forest and the end of the dirt road opened onto a green meadow. At the top of the slight incline it stood in all its grotesque glory. It was The Black Castle.
The Black Castle was trimmed in silver and reached far into the sky. It was much taller than it was wide. Its triple towers were connected to a smaller structure that held the towers together. The center tower was the tallest, and the outer two were the same height as each other, about half the size of the center tower. Atop each tower were round rooms with long silver rods extending from the top of each. At the bottom of the center tower stood a double door made of silver.
I proceeded, and just as I stepped into the meadow, the sky turned black. Even though it was still daytime, the light was so dim I could barely see The Black Castle. The wind began to twirl and cast dead grass into the sky. Suddenly, the doorway was lit up as flames shot forth from two cauldrons on both sides of the door. I didn’t know who the master of the castle was, but I was certain this was not going to be a friendly encounter.
Then the double silver doors of the wicked castle flung open, and I saw a man standing just inside the entryway. I was still too far away to determine any distinguishing features, and as I approached, the doors shut, further hiding his identification. I stopped and drew my pistol. I confirmed that it was loaded. As I looked up at The Black Castle I noticed the doors had once again opened, and the man was standing outside in front of them. This time I recognized him. It was the violinist. His gruesome pet was nowhere in sight, but I knew it had to be somewhere close.
The Spitting Post Page 11