The loneliness and despair was too much now. It had been days since her home collapsed on top of her creating this tomb. Darkness was all that endured in this place, darkness and the continuing fear of not knowing what the future held. There was no way she could push away the rubble. Liberty shifted uncomfortably on the pile of clothes that was her bed turning the page. She had read numerous books squinting in the small light that flickered from the depleting candles. It was all else to do down here – every moment she hoped that her brother would suddenly clear away the rubble and save her from the is gloom, but she knew that was just a false hope. He was dead, along with everyone in the town. She heard the screams, the explosions. The destruction that descended upon her home was obvious. She resigned herself to her fate.
‘Hello?’
She could have sworn…. No. It can’t be. Liberty had already accepted that she would die here; there was nothing any…….
Than it happened again, this time louder, closer. A surge of adrenaline coursed through her body. The hope returned and she jumped up as if to listen more intently ……. Silence – all she could hear was her excited heart.
‘Is anybody here?’
This time a woman’s voice. She wasn’t hearing things, this was real. People were close. Liberty immediately pounced towards where the sound seemed to come from
‘HELP ME, HELP ME, IM UNDER THE RUBBLE’
Than she stayed silent, waiting for a response. Again all she could here was her heart. Now a man’s voice
‘I think it’s deserted’
‘NO!’. She looked franticly around the room, something that would make a noise. Towards the corner was one of Lucious’s worn out shields, she grabbed it and then picked up a candle holder. She furiously banged them together and the noise vibrated around the stone walls of the basement.
Silence again….
‘Not good enough’
She dropped the candle holder. Desperation kicked in as she looked around in the dark for something. In the corner amongst the junk stood proudly above the rest a rusted sword. She could have sworn she hadn’t seen it before, Lucious’s old training sword. She ran to it, grabbed it and immediately bashed the steel sword down on the shield. The impressive noise shook the room and deafened liberty, but she beat harder. She put all her energy into this task and she battered the shield until indents in the steel were showing. The sound of steel on steel clanged its way around the room, surely it would penetrate. She banged and banged until her arms were numb.
And then she heard a voice, and then another. They knew she was there! The sound of wood being lifted and thrown was heard. She stood in silence as the glorious sound of human communication was heard
‘Hurry up soldier, lift it, lift it!’
‘I’m trying as hard as I can’
She stood still. Then suddenly as if by magic she saw the sun through the slit in the trap door. The light blinded her and the pain was the best she had ever experienced. The light was beautiful, warming her face.
‘Please let this be real. Please let this be real’ she thought.
Than the last of the wood was taken away and the trap door flung open. 3 tired men and a women stood there and peered into the darkness squinting. Their eyes were not adjusted to the darkness.
‘Yes I’m here’ is all she said, and she stepped out of the gloom into the glorious sun. Her whole body was warmed and she breathed in the air and smelt the freshness of the outside world. The clear blue sky shone down on Liberty and she looked at Bryant and the others who stood quietly and smiled. Then she burst into tears and Bryant stepped forward and held her
‘Don’t worry, you’re safe now’
She continued to sob quietly, her head sunk pressing against the captain’s chest. He rubbed her hair trying to soothe her.
’you’re safe’ he repeated.
General Machiavel imposing frame strode down the thin lanes of the market area, his sword swaying and his long green cape bellowing behind him. The lane was virtually empty, and anyone walking along it took a different route when they saw who it was. He was the law in this city, and they knew it. The guards accompanying him struggled to keep up as he took large strides, the footsteps echoing of the walls of houses. It was dark and many people were indoors, the moon shone down illuminating the way. Reaching the stone building that was the jail house he banged the wooden door, shaking the entire frame.
‘Who’s there?’ a voice asked from inside
‘Its General Machiavel open this door now’
The door swung open instantly, the general wasted no time entering.
‘General Machiavel?! – It’s a err... Pleasure to see you’
It clearly wasn’t.
Two other guards in the small room, who sat lazily on chairs suddenly jumped out of their seats
‘Good Evening sir’
Small talk over, Machiavel got on with it.
‘Where is this merchant. The one who’s apparently gone mad?’
Two of the guards looked at each other, they never said a word.
‘Well young man, Where is he’
His deep voice rose, vibrating the water inside one of the guards tankards.
‘General, he’s in the cell at the end, but sir you can get no sense from him. He says someone has destroyed Atriop.’
The other guard chuckled, but stopped instantly when he saw the serious expression on the General’s face. Machiavel walked to the door that contained the cells.
‘Open that door’
The jailor hastily unlocked the door, and Machiavel strode in.
‘give me those keys, and you can all wait here’
He slammed the door behind him leaving the guards alone. As the door swung closed all five off the guards relaxed their sphincter muscles and began breathing normally again.
The jailhouse contained 8 cells, 4 on each side ran parallel to each other with a lane in between. At one end there was a room for the jailors, and the other end contained the only room with shackles – for difficult people. Machiavel walked on down the lanes towards the end cell, the only light was the flame torches hanging on the walls and the small amount of moonlight that shone through the barred windows of the cells. The rest of the structure was made of solid dark bricks so escape virtually an impossibility. There was little activity in the cells and snoring could be heard from one. But Machiavel didn’t care; he was interested in one thing and as he approached a whispering could be heard.
‘All dead’
‘All dead, they’re all dead’
The raspy voice came from the end cell and was accompanied by sobbing. He reached the door peering through the gap but the darkness hid the outline of the man. He grabbed a torch from the wall and returned to the door. Unlocking it he stepped in and shone the torch around struggling to see. The sound of chains resonated and Machiavel saw what he was looking for.
In the corner he lay shackled to the wall, His torn clothes were covered in dirt and dried blood that covered his bruised and battered frame. He looked a mess but Machiavel wasted no time demanding answers.
‘I’m the general of the guard. What exactly did you see at Atriop?’
Looking despondently at the general he suddenly started struggling, Machiavel stepped back.
‘LET ME OUT OF HERE, LET ME OUT YOU BASTARD’
Machiavel watched the pathetic site as saliva flew from the man’s mouth. He desperately tried to wriggle free of the metal chains. He relaxed and started crying again.
‘They’re all dead, he killed them all, my baby, he cut my baby in two’
The man then suddenly began laughing furiously.
‘HAHAHAHAHA HER LITTLE HEAD FLEW!!!!’
The general stepped closer once more.
‘Listen to me, what exactly did you see?’
The man looked passed the general aimlessly into space.
‘Those eyes, HAHA those yellow eyes’
He then rose his arms pointing them at the General.
‘BOOM BOOM BOOM HAHAHAHAHAAH’
The general had heard enough grabbing the sword from his belt. With a last look he swung down on the defenceless man. The squealing sounded even beyond the concrete walls as the General raised his arm once more and mercilessly swung for the last time. Eyes full of fear the man took one last struggling breath, and then silence.
‘You saw nothing’ Machiavel murmured.
And at that spat on the corpse he had created. The general casually wiped the blood of the sword on the man’s clothes and returned it to his sheath. He backed out of the room locking the door behind him, and with one last look though the gap in the door spoke:
‘And you won’t tell a soul, you piece of dirt’.
General Machiavel walked confidently back along the lanes and out back into jailors room slamming the door behind him.
In a cell to one side movement could be heard. The man stood back from the door and sat down on a bunk contemplating what he had seen: The general had murdered an innocent civilian. After a few minutes he stood and tip toed carefully in the low lighting to the bunk opposite shaking its inhabitant.
‘Wake up!’
The sleeping man murmured and opened his eyes looking up in confusion. The piercing blue eyes that reflected the moonlight looked down were clearly distressed
‘Hoyt, I need to tell you what I’ve just witnessed’
