Just so you know, I'm looking forward to seeing your contribution to the yearlong revisits :)
When the fog lifts Lord Derby walked around the edge of the quarry. Some of it was realising that Samual understood Tomasz's grief better, or perhaps just had a better way of connecting with Tomasz. The death of anyone -- everyone here -- affected Ernest quite deeply. Inside he felt sickened and wanted to turn away and not see the death and suffering that Grace had caused, but his training forced him to look calmly and evaluate the scene. While he was revolted at the idea of cutting someone open from throat to groin and letting them die slowly as their insides fell out, intellectually he was comparing this with how hunters handled the carcasses of deer. He was mentally measuring how far the manacles were from each other, and wondering how she'd managed to get them all chained up -- more magic, or a Judas goat who thought they'd be spared if they helped the others? He swallowed hard at that and glanced back at Tomasz, wishing he'd not had such a thought. He paused, and scuffed at the ground. Dried, reddish-brown crumbs rolled up and aside, and he realised he knew how much blood it took to produce this kind of consistency. Grace must have sacrificed the whole village of the colony here. He shivered, thinking about how terrified people must have been when she would arrive and some of their number would just disappear. Where was there to run to? How do you fight a monster who wields magic? And... were there traitors on the inside? Beneath the dried blood was what had caught his eye: a vein of yellowish-green stone. Some of it came up as well, in crumbs or tiny pebbles, and he knelt to study it. It had been dug out of somewhere and crushed and then laid in place. He sighed softly, knowing that he needed to know the design that had been inlaid into the floor of the quarry, and that that meant telling Samual and Tomasz to help him dig into this charnel pit. "Damn you, Dignity," he whispered to himself. "If you'd made it back...." He let the words fall into silence. If she'd made it back this mess would still remain, only he wouldn't be dealing with it. It made it no less horrible.
Four long, backbreaking hours of work. The three men laboured in silence, scraping up the blood, moving the dead with reverence, and finally tackling the piles of organs. As they worked a shimmering, beautiful shape emerged in the quarry floor like a diamond found in the viscera of a corpse. "Milord," said Tomasz, his voice distant and harsh. He stared at a point six inches to the side of Lord Derby's head. "Something is wrong." "No flies?" said Samual. "We should be being eaten alive by them will all this... carnage." "There are no insects in Carcosa," said Tomasz. "But there are also no hearts in here." Lord Derby nodded. "The fog lifts," he said. "I'm sorry-" "What now?" "Are the hearts the only organs missing?"
Twenty minutes of sifting through the remnants of people and they knew: no hearts, no lungs, no liver. Both soldiers now looked at Lord Derby, their pale faces drawn and their eyes wide. "She used them to create the demons," he said. "It must be why they seem so much more real. I won-" he caught himself, but Samual must have had the same thought. "Do you think she took their brains as well?" Tomasz said nothing for a second, and collapsed. Samual bent over him immediately. "Unconscious, milord," he said, two fingers at Tomasz's neck and taking his pulse. "I'm not surprised," said Lord Derby. "We'd have to crack open a skull to find out if the brain is still there, Samual, and these were people he knew." Samual looked briefly guilty. "War is war," he said. "Maybe," said Lord Derby. "But if she took their brains, were the demons he's killed also his friends?"
Greg - I figured you'd notice I'd paused on comment replies there. I finally got something together though!
Jeez. Answers, or at least some of them, at last. Grim business going on here. I feel like we're approaching something now. Maybe not a conclusion, but something big.
3 comments:
Just so you know, I'm looking forward to seeing your contribution to the yearlong revisits :)
When the fog lifts
Lord Derby walked around the edge of the quarry. Some of it was realising that Samual understood Tomasz's grief better, or perhaps just had a better way of connecting with Tomasz. The death of anyone -- everyone here -- affected Ernest quite deeply. Inside he felt sickened and wanted to turn away and not see the death and suffering that Grace had caused, but his training forced him to look calmly and evaluate the scene. While he was revolted at the idea of cutting someone open from throat to groin and letting them die slowly as their insides fell out, intellectually he was comparing this with how hunters handled the carcasses of deer. He was mentally measuring how far the manacles were from each other, and wondering how she'd managed to get them all chained up -- more magic, or a Judas goat who thought they'd be spared if they helped the others?
He swallowed hard at that and glanced back at Tomasz, wishing he'd not had such a thought.
He paused, and scuffed at the ground. Dried, reddish-brown crumbs rolled up and aside, and he realised he knew how much blood it took to produce this kind of consistency. Grace must have sacrificed the whole village of the colony here. He shivered, thinking about how terrified people must have been when she would arrive and some of their number would just disappear. Where was there to run to? How do you fight a monster who wields magic? And... were there traitors on the inside?
Beneath the dried blood was what had caught his eye: a vein of yellowish-green stone. Some of it came up as well, in crumbs or tiny pebbles, and he knelt to study it. It had been dug out of somewhere and crushed and then laid in place. He sighed softly, knowing that he needed to know the design that had been inlaid into the floor of the quarry, and that that meant telling Samual and Tomasz to help him dig into this charnel pit.
"Damn you, Dignity," he whispered to himself. "If you'd made it back...." He let the words fall into silence. If she'd made it back this mess would still remain, only he wouldn't be dealing with it. It made it no less horrible.
Four long, backbreaking hours of work. The three men laboured in silence, scraping up the blood, moving the dead with reverence, and finally tackling the piles of organs. As they worked a shimmering, beautiful shape emerged in the quarry floor like a diamond found in the viscera of a corpse.
"Milord," said Tomasz, his voice distant and harsh. He stared at a point six inches to the side of Lord Derby's head. "Something is wrong."
"No flies?" said Samual. "We should be being eaten alive by them will all this... carnage."
"There are no insects in Carcosa," said Tomasz. "But there are also no hearts in here."
Lord Derby nodded. "The fog lifts," he said. "I'm sorry-"
"What now?"
"Are the hearts the only organs missing?"
Twenty minutes of sifting through the remnants of people and they knew: no hearts, no lungs, no liver. Both soldiers now looked at Lord Derby, their pale faces drawn and their eyes wide.
"She used them to create the demons," he said. "It must be why they seem so much more real. I won-" he caught himself, but Samual must have had the same thought.
"Do you think she took their brains as well?"
Tomasz said nothing for a second, and collapsed. Samual bent over him immediately.
"Unconscious, milord," he said, two fingers at Tomasz's neck and taking his pulse.
"I'm not surprised," said Lord Derby. "We'd have to crack open a skull to find out if the brain is still there, Samual, and these were people he knew."
Samual looked briefly guilty. "War is war," he said.
"Maybe," said Lord Derby. "But if she took their brains, were the demons he's killed also his friends?"
Greg - I figured you'd notice I'd paused on comment replies there. I finally got something together though!
Jeez. Answers, or at least some of them, at last. Grim business going on here. I feel like we're approaching something now. Maybe not a conclusion, but something big.
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