Mighty Hammer Down

by David J Guyton

  Chapter 14

  The harsh orange glow of the torchlight stung his eyes as he struggled to open them. His body felt heavy and weak, making it difficult to move. He was only vaguely aware of his surroundings, and he fought to determine where he was or how he had gotten there. As he considered his predicament, he realized that not only did he not know how he got there, but he didn't know anything at all. He struggled to summon memories but all that came was emptiness.

  He turned his head to the side and the light seemed to fade. The blackness in front of him swayed and shifted, and he thought that perhaps someone stood there between him and the torchlight. He clumsily turned his head the other way and saw a similar dark object blocking the light. To comfort himself he looked to the ceiling where there was flickering light dancing above him. He attempted to reach out at these black figures to his sides, but his arms would not obey him. He felt cold, hard metal at his wrists and determined that he was fastened to whatever it was he was lying on. It too was cold, but not metal; perhaps some kind of stone.

  More darkness crept in from the shadows. Through his blurry vision he could not see what the shapes were. He could only watch as they approached from the sides. He began to worry as he wondered what was going on and what was going to happen to him. In another futile attempt, he tried to free his arms. His legs were held tightly as well, as he found out when he made an effort to stand.

  Almost all the light disappeared except for what he could see on the ceiling. Slowly his ears began hearing again. He had not noticed that he could not hear while he was focusing on the sights in front of him. First he heard the crackles of the torches, but then he heard voices; low, calm voices all around him. He listened close in case the voices were telling him how to free himself, but if they offered any help, he couldn't understand it. The voices droned and rolled in different rhythms that made his head swim as he tried to untangle their messages. The harder he focused, the more disoriented he became, so he decided not to concentrate on the sounds around him.

  He looked down at his feet, but he could not make out the parts of his own body. It was mostly covered in black cloth and seemed to fade into the shadows around him. He felt his eyebrows knot in confusion and frustration as he started to feel the weight of reality pushing down hard upon him. He again fought to free himself to no avail. Out of desperation he tried to speak. When no sound came he tried to scream; no scream came either.

  It seemed like hours between each word that he heard drilling into his brain. He fought the agony of frustration until he was so exhausted that he could hardly keep his eyes open. Darkness started to fill his vision and he welcomed it. It was too hard to fight anymore, so he began to give up and give himself over into the icy blackness blanketing him. As he did this, the voices got louder and sounded more determined. It seemed like the voices were holding him here in this room against his will just like the shackles at his wrists and ankles.

  Suddenly he heard a word in their chants.

  Breathe

  He was confused by the word. It made no sense that all the sounds echoing around him were saying something so simple. He tried to ignore it and return to the darkness.

  Breathe

  He heard the word once more, this time more intense and commanding. It was becoming quite an irritation and he attempted to voice his anger but no sound came from his throat. All of a sudden he realized that he was unable to speak because there was no air in his lungs. In a powerful torrent, air rushed inside him, filling him with life and energy. He pulled in another breath that sent waves of power surging through him. Remembering the shackles at his wrists and ankles, he commanded his muscles to pull free from them, but he was still unable to move.

  Things still moved in slow motion around him, but it seemed faster and clearer than before. He spoke but he was unable to properly form the words in his mouth, and his tongue seemed to get in his way. He shook his head and tried to clear his thoughts, but everything was still a dark mystery surrounded in shadow. Another shadow fell upon him, this time a real one. Above him he saw a hooded man staring down at him. He could not see his face, but he could feel them man's oppressive presence. He spoke to the others as he held a book in one hand. The words were wet and slippery, like a different language flowing from the darkness under his hood. He was powerless to do anything but watch and listen for any words he could understand.

  It seemed that it would never end and he would be trapped forever lying on his back watching the strange figures shift and move before him. At times he felt them touch him on his chest as they chanted loudly. The one above him holding the book did not chant with the others, but instead spoke to the air, or maybe the ceiling. He was the loudest, and his voice cut deeply into his mind as it raked through the room.

  A new light was rising from the shadows. Everything that was black was beginning to hum and glow a faint purple. The orange light from the fires of the torches fought to remain in control, but their flitting flames were no match for the soft power emanating from the darkness. It grew brighter and brighter until it was difficult to see where light ended and shadow began. In the glow was hidden a pain and a pleasure, a sunset and a dawn, a beginning and an end. He could not decide whether or not to give himself over to the light as it curled around him and tugged at his soul.

  The man above him closed the book but still spoke loudly. He bent over and put down the book and then raised his arms to his sides. A cool wind began to blow and filled the room with a chill air. The ceiling seemed to warp and shudder, and the whole room began to grind and vibrate. The twisting ceiling above looked more like clouds than stone, and the wind seemed to pull the roiling clouds across the black marble that had turned to skies of black. The winds grew stronger and the man spoke even louder. He looked up to the man as lightning flashed in the large, circular room. Something gold hung from his neck.

  Gold.

  Suddenly he realized there was something else gold in the room. He could not see it, but he heard it calling to him and felt its power. It pulled at him, begging for his attention. It screamed silently directly into his mind and offered help. He focused on it and thought that he could feel it there in the room, somewhere off to his left. A slight tingle burned in his blood as he listened to the voice screaming in his head. It was guiding him. Not really with a voice, but with a feeling. He did his best to ignore the light around him and gave himself over to the burning feeling inside him. He closed his eyes and calmed himself, pushing all the noise and the light from his thoughts.

  Suddenly he realized he was stronger than the shackles that held him. He curled his arm and the metal shattered, sending splinters into the crowd of men around him and making them turn away in fear.

  "He cannot harm you," the man above him shouted over the howling wind, "we control him. He is ours."

  The words did nothing to dull his strength. He could feel power rushing through him and knew that this hooded man above him was no match for him. He reached out with his free arm and called to the gold off to his left. It answered him immediately and came to his hand. The men surrounding him were terrified at the sight, and even the speaker took several steps back.

  In his hand he saw the thing that had called to him and offered him help. It was a sword, a golden sword that seemed to be made of one seamless piece of the precious metal. He examined it there in his hand, its edges catching the orange light of the torches that now burned brightly in the room. The purple light had fled just like the courage and determination of the men panicking around him. He broke the other shackles that held him as if they were made of paper and sat up. He realized that he had been lying on an altar made of black marble in the center of a large circular room. He reached down and traced a white vein in the stone before hopping off the edge.

  The hooded men were running in all directions, horrified that he would come near them. He remained calm as he approached them. They all seemed to be running in slow motion, and he had no trouble catching up to them.

  "Ge
t him!" the speaker yelled. "He must not leave this room!"

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