Dungeon of Doors

The night is dreadfully quiet now that the rain has stopped. I move quietly ahead of the others, my bare feet silently padding across the stone floor of the prison. My hands are full of tiny pebbles, silt collected from the dirty prison cells.

Lyric silently places a hand on my shoulder to stop me. He makes a motion with his hand, signaling that paladins are just beyond this doorway. I take a deep breath and creep through the opening and into the room where two paladins are lingering for the night shift.

Neither of them notice me at first, and that's to my advantage. I mentally rehearse the lines before I speak them.

"Azick wecken vok!" I babble as I jump out from the shadows.

The effect of my nonsense speech is immediate confusion and surprise from both paladins. They stand up so fast they throw their chairs to the ground, their hands going for their weapons. I follow up my shrill facsimile of a magic spell by throwing the silt at their faces. This successfully blinds them, and I shout the signal.

"Rise, my minions!"

On cue the others all come charging out of the darkness. They quickly knock down the two terrified and blinded paladins before trampling right over them. Carter lifts me up and carries me out the door. Some of the others carry the confused paladins in their arms.

To make this more confusing and alarming for the paladins, everyone is chanting the same nonsensical word over and over, like some kind of mindless husk. Their chanting voices have the intended effect on the paladins outside.

"Zok! Zok! Zok!" They chant.

The paladins standing guard outside the prison are too shocked to react at first. Then one of them goes to draw his sword, and I shout with an accusing finger in his direction. My words seem to have a physical effect on him despite them being meaningless.

"Vak wizreck!"

Another handful of dirt is thrown at the paladin's face. One of the younger paladins finally loses his nerve completely, screeching at the top of his lungs. All of his comrades hear his cry and heed it as he runs from the horde of freed prisoners.

"Witch! They've got a witch!"

The other paladins who were about to draw their weapons hesitate to do so as I cackle maniacally from atop Carter's shoulders. He parades me down the street and past the paladins who fear the chanting group of seemingly possessed escapees.

We manage to get halfway to the gate before an inquisitor arrives on the scene. The man wields a massive war hammer, and his stoic gaze is filled with steely confidence. Our ruse doesn't seem to even phase the man as he stands in our way.

"Your petty tricks will not fool me, criminals!" He shouts.

The other paladins regain some of their nerve upon seeing their superior standing up to us. Their superstitious beliefs were all that we had going for us. Without the guise of magic and madness, we will surely fail to escape intact.

Everyone starts to falter upon seeing the paladins draw their weapons. The inquisitor marches right up to me and Carter, while the other paladins encircle the mob like a noose tightening around a dead man's neck.

"If any of you still want to go to heaven after your death, then you'd best kneel and wait to be apprehended. We will ensure you are absolved of all sins."

Some of those in the crowd look uncertain of my strategy now that it has come to this. The intense chanting begins to wane as those who believe in God falter. Several older men and women from the mob throw themselves to their knees before the inquisitor.

"I see some of you still wish to be by God's side... Paladins, deliver them unto heaven."

Carter's grip on my legs grows slightly tighter as the paladins move toward those who kneel. The inquisitor himself raises his war hammer overhead. An awful bloodbath ensues, as those prostrating themselves are either cleaved apart by long swords or smashed flat by the hammer.

I feel myself shudder in horror as a massacre happens before my eyes. Carter suddenly lowers me and covers my face with his hand. Shouting fills the street, and the sound of weapons cutting flesh makes me nauseous. Footsteps and cries of panic ring in my ears as Carter carries me away from the chaos of the slaughter.

My eyes drip hot tears into Carter's hand as I try to push it aside. He doesn't budge until the sounds of chaos are long gone, replaced by the quiet chirping of crickets. When I am allowed to see again I find Lyric, Chandra, Carter and I are all huddled someplace in the forest. Faint moonlight is all we have to see by. Everyone but me is breathing heavily.

"W-What should I have done differently?" I whimper.

The others don't reply immediately. Perhaps they don't know, or maybe they think I did the best I could given our circumstances. My plan to weaponize the paladin's fear of the unknown only got us so far. As soon as that inquisitor appeared everything changed.

Soon I hear myself bawling. My eyes sting as I sob, images of the blood and gore burnt into my mind. The others comfort me, but I hardly pay attention. At some point Chandra leads me by the hand. Carter and Lyric are with us. We're going somewhere in the forest.

Are we wanted now? Will the church hunt us down?

My head swims with dark thoughts as we walk deeper into the moonlit forest.

~

The high vaulted ceilings of the throne room make it quite the intimidating space. One could get lost staring up at the stained glass windows. Unfortunately the sight of this room has lost its luster for me after one too many visits.

A litany of men in heavy ornate armor stand guard in this chamber. They line the walls like statues, their faces masks of stoicism. I've never liked the royal guards much. They're too difficult to read.

My attention slips away from my surroundings and back to the man before me. He sits atop a vaulted throne. Luxurious fur and silk adorns his body in a gaudy manner. His face is far more wrinkled than Theobald's, but he has that same arrogant handsomeness to him.

"I understand your plight, Rebecca, but there is an issue with your proposal."

Swallowing my pride, I smile up at the ruler of this country. He is refusing my plan. I suppose even a monarch has his weaknesses. One such weakness apparently being the church. How can an organization centered around faith be so powerful? They aren't meant to have a military.

"What is the issue, Your Majesty?" I ask, still smiling.

King Geoffrey looks at me with a complicated glint in his eyes. The old man's vision is starting to go, his blue eyes paler and grey than Theobald's. He is still just as cutthroat as he was when his vision was perfect.

"I was recently approached by officials from the church. They briefed me on the issue with the dungeon, and how it is a threat rather than a boon."

I sputter, my brows furrowed in frustration, "Your Majesty! How can you possibly believe the drivel those superstitious fools spout?"

The tense silence that stretches on after my outburst tells me I got too loud. My tone has put King Geoffrey in a sour mood, but he excuses it for the sake of our many past interactions. His guards look less forgiving. Several glares stab at my back.

"My apologies, Your Majesty, I meant no disrespect."

I bow my head to show my sincerity to King Geoffrey. It does the trick, and he motions to me as if to say I am not to worry over the matter. He then replies to my question with a question of his own. How infuriating.

"Would you say there are things only God knows?"

What a bizarre question to ask. Where is he going with this?

"I suppose if God is real, then yes. Some things would be known only to that which knows all."

"Then if someone were to know something of that nature, does it mean they are God?"

"What? No! No man can be God, that is ridiculous, Your Majesty."

King Geoffrey hums softly to himself. His eyes slip away from mine as he strokes his greying beard thoughtfully. There is something he isn't telling me. This annoying habit of his, speaking in riddles, always comes up at the worst of times.

Maybe he is trying to tell me that the church has more power than I realize. Or he could be hinting at my comment on them being superstitious being false? Does the church know something I don't?

"For now I think it is best you rest."

"Pardon? But this matter is of utmost importance-"

"I insist we discuss this at a later date, Miss Hawthorne."

The tension in the air does not go unnoticed. I bite back anything else I want to say, and instead bow in a show of reverence to King Geoffrey. Whatever the church said to him must have been monumental for him to show them such fealty.

"As you wish, Your Majesty."

With our farewells said, I turn to leave. The guards in the room all give me hostile stares as I walk out of the lavish throne room. The corridors of the castle are quiet, almost eerily so. I start walking without a particular goal in mind.

While I could return to my chambers--which King Geoffrey prepared for me upon learning of my arrival--something doesn't feel right. I don't want to go sleep in my room when the air of the castle is so stilted. It makes me suspect something is going on behind the curtains.

My footsteps are the only sound in the hall.

No distant shuffling nor chatter of servants, just silence.

Goosebumps emerge along the back of my neck as I hurry along. It isn't even that late in the evening, so why does the castle feel so wrong right now? I feel like I'm being watched. Or maybe listened to.

Before I know it my feet have brought me straight to a particular room in the castle. Prince Theobald's chambers. The lack of sound from inside sets off alarm bells in my mind. What if the church got to him? He could be dead, or under their control.

Against my better judgement, I push into Prince Theobald's room without warning. The intrusion isn't met with a viscous attack or dead silence. Instead of what I expect I am treated to a view of Prince Theobald with his shirt off.

"Do you mind knocking next time, Miss Hawthorne?"

Prince Theobald's sheepish remark releases all the tension built up in my body. I laugh, my face burning pink as I lean against the door frame. Seeing him being himself is a huge relief. I find my worries melting away with each chuckle as I watch him shuffle to grab his shirt from his bed.

"I'll be sure to knock next time, Theobald."

"Thank you?"

Theobald gives me an incredulous look as I stand there giggling like I've gone mad.

He doesn't know just how stressed these recent events have made me.