Satchelle ~ Ooh, A/N at the beginning of the chapter, mixing things up aren't I? Keeping things interesting for you, eh? (Gosh, I'm so lame . . . )
Well, you didn't have to wait 4 months for this one (hooray?). Oh! Thanks to babydollgonewrong13 for suggesting the song Gaeta's Lament to me (It's sung by the same actor who voiced L in the English dub). Everyone should go check it out because it's AWESOME. (Just in case you've run out of things to fangirl over, I liked listening to it with L's theme playing in the background as well, it's sooo bad ass). This chapter was difficult to write, mainly because keeping L in character in an emotional situation nearly drove me OUT of my mind. But I really wanted to see what would happen if I put him in a spot of panic so I hope I did okay (or I've completely ruined it). Either way, hope you like it, let me know!
Chapter 36
Sydney's Dream
You know what's unbelievably, yank your hair out, scream at the sky frustrating?
Mud.
Yes, mud. It slurps and pulls at your feet, like it a hungry, gelatinous alien and you a piece of spaghetti. The slimy sensation of pressing your foot down into its spongy embrace and the instant struggle to pull it back out from its slobbering, vacuum mouth gave me the jeebies. I already lost one shoe to the mud's evil recesses and it was determined on trying to claim the other. My legs were bent awkwardly as I tottered across the flatland, heading for the lake.
I almost missed the snow.
On the bright side, at least the mud felt amazing on my wounded leg – and that was the only bright thing about my whole situation.
The sky's purple bruise had darkened to an opaque black. Light came from the orange glow of the lava pit I left behind and the fire forest in the distance. But the closer I came to the lake the darker the world grew. It felt like I was entering a land of shadows, where light was too frightened to dare entry. There was a sound that buzzed through the air, a distinct humming, but I couldn't quite pinpoint what it was. It made the hair on the back of my neck stand to attention and the muscles in my hands tense. I wished I had some sort of weapon.
It was very clear, I was not welcome.
The hospital loomed now. I could finally see it clearly. It Goliath and I David. Its broken windows and decaying walls glared down at me, taunting me. At its apex was a giant bronze clock, large springs spilling out of it. The hands bent and crooked. It did not move. Time did not matter in this place. If a building could speak I swear it would be laughing right at me. Why would a puny girl even bother trying to take on its titan-like mass all alone, unarmed and in a polka dotted pink dress? (Though it wasn't so pink anymore, the goo I had fallen into stained it black, with only a few warbled stripes of pink peaking meekly through). And to be honest, I almost believed it.
But there were more pressing problems to be solved. Like how I was going to get across this lake. With the ice melted walking was no longer an option. I doubt I could swim that distance with my injuries. I could walk around, but that could take days.
I just didn't have the time.
I grumbled. "Remember when life was simple?" I grabbed below my knee and yanked it from the mud, flinching as the excess splattered across my face. "When all you had to worry about was trying to prove who Kira was and avoid a bunch of pissed off Shinigami?" I took another step, unable to suppress a shiver crawling up my back from the SPLURPing sound it made. "Wasn't that just dandy? No serial killers. No facing your angsty past." I struggled with my other leg, the mud in this area putting up a battle. "Just a front row seat to your favourite story, hanging out with your favourite characters, having a good—DAMN THIS MUD!"
For a moment I lost my senses and in a fit of childish wrath, I took my free leg and kicked the mud with all my might (karate kid style). Not sure what I expected to come of this irrational behaviour, I obviously didn't predict the unfortunate outcome. It resulted in me falling backwards, almost comically, with a sickening SPLAT (don't you laugh at me, I said almost comically, if anything you should feel sorry for me, I think I bruised my tailbone). The wave of mud I had kicked flew high into the air, arching slightly, hung there, then came pouring back down – right on top of me. (Oh . . . fine. Now you may laugh. Whatever.)
I sputtered, spitting the mud from my mouth. "Great. Just great! This is exactly what I need." I strained, but the mud refused to relinquish its vice-like grip. I tried again, struggling to free myself, but now both my arms and legs were stuck in a backwards crab position. Slowly, the mud started to pull me down. It gurgled, like leftover crumbs being washed down a drain. Suddenly frightened (err . . . concerned, I'm sure there's no need to panic yet), I struggled more, which only made me sink further. The mud teemed around my stomach, adding weight and pulling me down further.
I was sinking.
(Ok. Now it's time to panic.)
"Uh, wait a minute!" I stuttered, realizing that, at chest deep, escape was starting to slip through my fingers. "Hey, BB! I know you're watching, you creep!" Now the mud was up to my neck, I lifted my chin, trying to keep my mouth above the sinkhole. "What the hell, BB? Is this supposed to be my next test? A . . . A mud puddle? What gives?! Hey! WAIT A SECOND!" The thick goo slunk into my ear canals, deafening the world around me. I only manged one last word before I was sucked under, a desperate and defying plea for help. "L!" I cried out.
Helpless, I opened my mouth as wide as possible, baring my teeth. I took a final deep breath as the cold, thick liquid sunk over my eyes and nose. Is this how the great Sydney Pennypocket dies? As an ingredient in a mud pie?
The Hospital
L spoke quickly, his tone intense. He tried to keep his expression plain, not wanting to give BB any hint of emotion that could be used against him, but it was growing difficult to keep himself from shouting."I was under the impression you wanted to drive her insane, not suffocate her." His eyes darted from screen to screen, watching as bit by bit Sydney disappeared deeper into the sink hole. "Is this about what I said? About A?" His muscles ached, they had tensed so much they cut into the straps that bonded him to his chair, bruising the skin. "Beyond, answer me!" He demanded.
"Would you like some tea? Can't have you dehydrating, now can we? Not during the best part of the show!"
"Is this . . . necessarily . . . an appropriate time for tea?" L asked through his teeth, exasperated, the corner of his gaze still fixated on the screen. Are we playing another game of his?
BB was dancing around the room, ignoring Sydney's plight. He carried a slightly cracked tray holding trembling china. "There's always time for tea! Or don't you remember? The orphanage made us take lessons on brewing the perfect tea. I suppose it's an English thing. The old man always was a tad traditional. I was thinking green. But if you want something with more bite I have oolong too." He kicked a spare chair over and set the tray down, gesturing to it with a wide sweep of the palm of his hand. "Well, go on," His lips upturned in a thin, savouring smile, "Pick your poison."
L glanced at the tea set, then back at the screen. Sydney's face was now nearly covered. He stared at BB from between the jagged stripes of his bangs, trying to decipher the method to the man's madness. They were running out of time. "I am losing my patience, Beyond."
"Oh, if you're not a tea person you could have just said so." BB slapped the air with his fingers, shaking his head. "No need to worry about hurting my feelings."
"Beyond," L said, his voice lowered to a dark tone. His body started to shake in his chair. "A member of my task force, under my care, is going to suffocate. You must excuse me if I am not interested in tea at the moment."
BB rested his mouth on his fist, turning to watch intently, his eyes glued to the monitors. For several seconds he ignored L, but when he finally spoke it was slow, thoughtful. "A member of your task force?" He muttered. "Is that what she is to you?"
Sydney's cries for help squeaked out of the speakers, they rang in L's ears, echoing, distracting, blocking out everything else. He was starting to lose control. "There is no time-"
"What would you do," BB interrupted, his voice preoccupied, "To save her?" He turned and looked at L curiously. "Just how much do you love our strawberry?"
"Is this a test?"
"Yes! The greatest test ever invented!" BB said enthusiastically. The serial killer lifted his hand in the air and formed an L shape with his thumb and forefinger, imitating a hand gun. He pointed it at the detective. "You see, a man's true limits are not tested when he stares down the barrel of a gun, that would be too easy." Slowly, he turned his hands to the screen and squinted one eye, as if aiming at Sydney. "But when the one he loves is about to have her brains blown out . . ." He let the imagery hang in the hair for a moment, looking back out of the corner of his eye at L. " . . . Well, now that's true motivation."
"What do you want?" L demanded again, his voice sharper this time. He looked upon Sydney, the real Sydney, on the operations table. Her expression was strained and she was making little, rasping gasps for air. He tried to calculate a solution to the problem, but his usual powers of deduction were rapidly unravelling. He felt a similar sense of urgency when Ukita ran into Sakura studios. He felt . . . helpless.
"Ooh, what happened to that self-control? Are you angry with me, L? Are you scared she might die? Do you feel upset?"
"Just tell me and I-"
"You'll what?" BB's paced the room, walking slowly, purposefully taking his time. "Yoooou'll . . . take her place?" He shrugged. "Boooring. I was thinking of something a bit more special. Hmmm . . ." BB pressed his finger to his lips, as if he were deciding between what brand of cereal he wanted to eat for breakfast. He snapped his fingers. "Aah, I know. What about begging?" He asked, eyes wide with wonder at the idea. "Judging by the look on your face I'd say that's a fair request. Go on, oh great and masterful L. Beg for her life. Grovel at my feet like the blubbering fool you are. And you better make it good."
"Beyond-"
"Aaaany day now, L. Time's-a-ticking." He sat on the edge of the control panel and crossed his legs, waiting expectantly, like a happy child standing impatiently in line at a carnival.
L's eyes locked on Sydney, her skin was paling, like chalk. And her lips were slowly dying a deep shade of blue. If the detective's teeth clenched together any harder they would have broken. "If you think I do not know how this ends then you are wrong. It does not matter what I say you will still do as you wish. We are not children anymore, asking nicely will do nothing."
As if a switch had been flipped, BB's silly demeanour instantly froze over, replacing the mad man with the calculated criminal. His brow arched articulately. "That is the difference between you and I, L. Unlike yourself, I am not a liar." The lights in the operating room flickered, dimming to a dull glow, and BB's figure was cast out of the light. He became another needled shadow towering over a hapless victim. "Beg." He ordered.
L leaned as far forward in his chair as his restraints would allow, hair falling in front of his eyes, shouting as fast as he could. "I am not sure where you got this assumption, Beyond, and it does not matter. I have not nor will I ever care about maintaining something as petty as the dignity of my reputation. Especially when faced between that and rescuing a human life. So save her. Please save her. Do not make this mistake and allow her to die simply because you have a grudge to fulfill with me."
"I dunno . . . " BB said, tilting his head sideways and tapping his chin. "I wasn't really feeling the 'grovelling'."
L hung his head. "I BEG of you! Now SAVE her!"
"Better. Still a little bossy though. Maybe we should try something else-"
"BEYOND!"
BB grabbed L's chin and lifted it up, gripping it tightly. His red eyes narrow. "I want you to say it." He hissed into L's lips. "I want you to admit you love her. I want to know you feel the pain I felt after what happened to A. After what you did."
L was silent.
BB cast his hand away, shoving L's head to the side. "Sorry 'folks! Looks like we're cancelling our little show early! No matter, there are always other strawberries in the field to pick." He glanced back at L, eyes glinting red, his tone vicious. "This one can rot for all I care."
The monitor's attached to Sydney began to beep erratically, cutting through the air like panicked birds flying away from a forest fire.
"Now you ask the very thing of me from which you criticize. Would you like me to lie?" L asked loudly, staring at the floor. "I will tell you I love her to save her, but it would be false."
"You are lying, right now. Whether to me or yourself it does not matter. Lies drip from your tongue like venom from a viper. You make your living on lies. Hiding behind them, exposing them, either way they feed you, sustain you. Knowing that it should not be so difficult for you to admit one simple truth once in your life. Now confess!"
"No." L whispered, his normally black and watchful eyes glazed over. "Love is nothing more than a poetic idea. An unnecessary comfort." His voice grew momentum as he spoke. "If you want the truth, Beyond, I will tell you. A few months ago a young girl entered my investigation with certain knowledge. Knowledge, I realized, that could not be attained with my . . . usual . . . methods." L straightened as much as his restraints would allow. "I was aware of her infatuation with me from the start and I made a calculation."
B leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms. He watched L gravely, but did not interrupt.
"Slowly I have obtained her trust," L explained. "It has not been difficult to manipulate her. Women are not as complicated as some may think. And when I have her complete and undying devotion I am certain she will reveal the secret necessary to solving this case. But outside of this aspect I do not require her, or any other woman." He stated strongly. "I do not, nor will I ever, love Sydney." L stopped, his breathing quickened from his speech. "She is nothing to me."
BB and L exchanged stares for a long moment, L's assured and full of solitude, BB's icy and considering. Finally, BB flicked a switch on the control panel and immediately Sydney's cheeks on the operations table lost their blue colour. Her breathing returned to normal. Silently, BB sat down and began pouring himself a cup of tea. He held up a cup to L. "Would you like one now?"
Sydney's Dream
As I sunk further and further into the murk I imagined my lungs start to quiver, then shake uncontrollably. The mud filled my nose and ears, coating my entire body like a slimy, wet envelope. My thoughts started to wander as my consciousness began to slip away from its anchor. I held on as long as I could, but dots of white, speckled light started to form behind my eyelids as I began to pass out. My cheeks bulged from the effort of holding my breath. I started to feel as if I was floating now, instead of falling deeper and deeper into the muddy abyss.
My mind's eye lit with a bright white light. Voices began ringing in my ears, voices I hadn't heard in a very long time. Like an old VHS home video recording, a memory crept into my subconscious.
"You're not hitting hard enough, Sydney. You have to put your whole body into it."
A bead of sweat dripped off the tip of my nose, my breathing drowned out all other sounds. I stared at the swinging leather bag behind my lashes and flexed my bandaged hands, tilting my hips left and right. Just picture his face . . . The chain that held my inanimate opponent creaked, shining from the pale, florescent light that glinted beyond it. His face . . . I bounced on my heels, revving up my energy, then clenched my fists. Uncle's face . . . I swung my arm, muscles tense, then stopped an inch before it struck, panting.
"What are doing? Your form was perfect this time! Hey, what's wrong?"
I unstrapped my shin guards, and shook them off one by one, fixating my eyes on the ceiling, still gasping for air. My white tank was soaked in sweat. My orange cargos had been knotted at my knees and my hair was tied in a ponytail to allow for better movement. The room smelled of iron, grease and rubber. At its center rose an obstinate square boxing ring, fenced in with flexible red rope. Weight lifting machines, dumbbells, treadmills, laced boots and gloves, and watering stations lined the walls. A small radio buzzed country music in the corner (I Hope You Dance by Lee Ann Womack came on, to be specific) fizzing from a poor signal every so often. Posters of famous boxers were taped up high (supposedly to look inspirational). Most of the room was cast in dust-clouds and shadow - save the single, shallow lamp where we stood on the practice mats. A huge sign in loopy letters hung above the door reading 'Cook's Kitchen', the title of the gym playing-on Mikal's family's last name. I sniffed, shaking my head. "I can't do this, Mikal."
Mikal glanced to the left, thinking, and rubbed the back of his neck. "Is it him?"
I shut my eyes, but opened them immediately, hearing his enraged hollering and the sounds of breaking glass in the darkness of my mind. "Nope." I lied.
Mikal sighed. He went to work putting the battered punching bag away, grunting as he did. He hefted it onto his shoulder and half-carried, half-dragged it to the locker. "About that . . . hup." He leaned it into the locker and slammed it shut. His fingers lingered on the lock. "I was thinking I'd pay your Uncle a visit this weekend." His eyes flicked to the side to gauge my reaction.
I stiffened and lowered my gaze, fiddling with the bandages wrapped tightly around my palms. "I told you, don't worry about it." I said quietly.
Mikal crossed the room in three long strides and grabbed my shoulders. He spun me around to face him. "Don't think I didn't notice those bruises on your neck. They're new, aren't they? Look at me!" He lifted my chin up and my lip quivered. He softened, then pulled me close, resting his chin on my head. "I just . . . " The muscles in his shoulders tensed, "Want to . . . talk . . . to him."
"It's more complicated than that, Mikal." I sighed, frustrated. "Besides, he's NYPD. You're black. How do you think that's going to end? Beat him up and he'll lock you away forever and ever." I paused for a moment, and a smile broke out across my face. "Then who would I cheat off of during my math final?"
Mikal smirked. "Ignoring the fact that after I tutor you, you won't need to cheat, you don't think I could survive a jail cell?"
My grin widened. "I know you couldn't."
He cocked an eyebrow playfully. "Oh? And what would you know about jail, fair maiden? If I didn't know better I'd think you've gotten yourself on the wrong side of the law before."
I giggled. "Why, I don't know what you're talking about, good sir!"
He lifted me up onto the edge of the boxing ring effortlessly. "You know," he said, tangling his arms around my waist, "Pretty soon you'll have to give your bad habits up for good."
"Oh? And why is that?" I locked my own legs around his chest, yanking him closer.
"Well," He played with a strand of my hair, "When I'm done college, I plan to be an extremely successful businessman."
I slapped his chest playfully. "How posh, we'll have to buy you a proper suit."
"And I plan to marry you."
I blinked. "O-oh . . . " My eyes shifted nervously, and I hoped the dark of the room hid my girlish blush. I felt like I might just melt, though it could have been the sweat from my previous exercise. He sounded so self-reliant, so assured. It made me feel . . . safe. "You've certainly got it all figured out."
He nodded, and removed his large, cobalt-blue glasses, tucking them in his pocket. "And you see, once I do that and steal you away from here, I can give you everything you want. I'm sorry to tell you, but your thieving days will be over."
Regaining my composure, I tapped my finger on my temple, pretending to think it over. "I might need further convincing . . . "
The radio in the corner blipped and the tune of a violin's song drifted through the air, followed shortly by ten fingers dancing across a set of piano keys.
"I can think of a few ways to persuade you, m'lady," Mikal said, feigning a swift bow. He lifted up my hand, holding it like a delicate flower petal, and gently kissed it. "May I have this dance?"
I nodded, feeling bashful and blissful and wonderful at the same time. Mikal always gave me butterflies – the good kind. He knew exactly what to say and when to say it. He removed his grey hoodie that revealed a simple black t-shirt (with the image of a Super Nintendo controller on the front, old habits die hard) and hopped up onto the stage. He held up the ropes, waiting politely for me to go through first. The moment I stepped into the ring he swept me from behind and spun me outwards, then pulled me back in. I slammed into his chest and he swayed from side to side, turning and striding and swirling and dipping and incredibly – dancing.
"Where'd you learn to do this?" I asked, amazed. I had never seen Mikal so graceful. Normally he walked around, his poor posture showing in his stooped shoulders and shuffling feet. The only time he broke that nerd-façade was when he took off his glasses, preparing himself for a fight. Whenever he did that he seemed an entirely different person. The cautious, computer programming math-whiz was replaced by a tall, muscular boxer, silent and powerful. Dancing was not a part of either of those character traits.
"Would it be unmanly of me to say my mother taught me?"
"Not at all."
"So what do you say?" He dipped me low, holding me there until my blood rushed to my head.
"About what?" I asked, gasping for air happily.
"Marrying me." He lifted me back up and spun me around in a circle.
"Is that a proposal, Mikal?" I asked, tilting my head to the side. My eyes glittered.
"No," He tugged me close and held me still, and pecked my nose with his lips, "Think of it as a . . . pre-proposal."
I laughed. "I'll consider it."
And he kissed me. Mikal's embraces were always warm and passionate, but short. As if his gentlemanly instincts forced him to restrain himself. Every time his lips touched mine I felt an ache in my stomach, wishing it would last longer. This time was different, for a moment he let himself go and hugged me as tightly as possible. It was the happiest I ever felt, and I never wanted it to end.
But it did.
Suddenly, the earth opened up beneath me.
I collapsed into a warm pool with a splash, my body limp like a sack of rice. Several tonnes of mud fell on top of me, mixing and churning the spring water into dark clouds. It took me several seconds of gaining back mobility in my muscles before I had the strength to swim to the surface. I emerged with a gasp, crashing onto the side of the pool and slowly, my lungs burning, pulled myself out. I lay on the stone floor, staring at the ceiling, coughing and spitting out clumps of mud.
Above me was an eloquent trap door, made of a silver metal with bronze bolts lining its border. A grinning white skull was embossed in its centre. The skull glinted with yellow, topaz eyes and silver teeth, smiling madly at me.
I managed to prop myself up, still coughing and looked around. To my back was the spring, bubbling like a witch's brew, probably an offset of the lake above me. I had fallen into some sort of cave. The walls and floor were carved of smooth stone, wet from the mist of the spring, and impossible to climb. They shimmered with a strange, yellow ore that struck through the stone like lightning bolts.
In front of me was a tunnel, winding to the left and out of sight.
Gee, I wonder which way I'm supposed to go? There's so many options to choose from!
I limped forward, supporting my weight by placing my hand on the wall. My progress was slow, but the tunnel never deviated or split. The stone was replaced by something else, though. Likely another thoughtful piece of decor placed here by BB.
Skulls.
Loads of them. They stacked against the walls and ceiling and even the floor, making it difficult to navigate their crowned heads as I walked. The yellow gem embedded in the rock behind the skulls still shimmered eerily, giving their eyes and mouths a creepy, ethereal glow. I stepped carefully, but I couldn't help but feel like they were watching me, waiting to pounce and eat me alive. Twice I thought I caught one move out of the corner of my eye, and twice when I turned around it remained in the same position. My senses on alert, my spine tingled every so often, as if I was shot with a low voltage tazer. Creepy. Creepy. Creepy.
After several minutes of navigating the tunnel I came across a door. It was twice my height and made of thick iron. Carved into the metal was the same skull symbol as the trapdoor from the spring. I inspected it. There were no doorknobs, no keyhole, no hinges either. Can I call it a door then? Suspiciously I raised my hand and, with no other choice, knocked. My two knocks echoed much louder than I had intended and I took a few steps back, arms raised and on guard in case it opened and an army of demons spilled out (I like to be prepared for the worst).
I was lucky I had moved, because instead of opening to the side, the entire door crashed to the ground like a drawbridge. I nearly jumped out of my skin, realizing if I had been a few steps closer I would have been squashed. Intrigued, I slowly stepped inside.
"Woah."
Amazingly, I had entered an underground castle. I stood in some sort of master ballroom. And man, what a ballroom. The cobblestone floor was shiny, as if recently washed. A giant grand staircase rose at the back, decorated with golden velvet carpet, its railing carved elaborately. A huge, well lit diamond chandelier flickered like fairy light several stories above my heads, its arms snaking and curling out like a giant, jewelled octopus. Instead of windows, gold and silver silk tapestries lined the walls, tasselled and embroidered with painfully detailed artwork. Along the edges of the room were knights in shining silver armour, standing to attention. They posed with various weapons; long swords, battle axes and javelins.
I stepped forward, gently pulling my one leg behind me. Eyes wide. Even the floor was embedded with diamond gemstones. I was this close to bending down and kissing it. Everything sparkled brilliantly, glittering in the reflections of my eyes. It was stunning. A thief's dream. I was so caught up in how gloriously gorgeous (and wonderfully expensive) it was I didn't notice the door behind me raise up and shut, locking me in with a dull THUNK. This is amazing! I would need a bulldozer to lift all of this! I gravitated towards one of the knights, eyes wide. I reached my hand out to touch the silver armour on its chest and poked it tentatively. To my delight, it wasn't an illusion. The tip of my finger was met with cold, smooth metal.
"Oh wow, whatever test this is I have to say, loving it. Best evil test ever. I wonder if I can somehow get Scab to sneak some of this home for me? Who needs to steel a lame yacht like Cherise when I could buy a cruise ship with all this gold? No, a fleet of cruise ships!"
I removed my hand from the armour, but all of a sudden the force of my movement caused it to teeter, rocking precariously back and forth.
Uh oh.
I raised my hands above my head to protect my face and braced myself. BANG! I flinched, waiting, but the painful sensation of a blunt, heavy object squashing me never came. Tentatively, I opened one eye, then the other.
The armour was still stiff, and instead of crushing me it balanced itself on the two extended gauntlets. The armour rattled for a moment, ringing with impact vibrations.
Essentially, the armour was planking.
With a loud sigh of relief I let my head fall back, allowing myself to breath again. Whew. That was close. Ugh, my leg is killing me. Maybe I'll just rest here for a whi-"EEYAAHH!"
The helmet visor popped open and a white skull slipped out, falling inches from my face. Two empty eye sockets stared into mine and the mouth hung open, exposing a hauntingly crazed grin.
My heart beat rapidly from the scare, attacking my ribcage like a trapped fly attacking a window. I mentally tried to force my body to melt into the crumbling cobblestone, without much luck. The smell of a dusty dead knight was an interesting and puke-worthy aroma, turning my cheeks a granny smith green. My cheeks bulged as I held my breath and started to slowly inch myself away.
It wasn't until the freakishly humongous black beetle wriggled out of his nostril hole that I released my breath with another bloodcurdling scream. All of a sudden I found new strength (from being startled, mind you, not scared . . . startled) brought on by an unreasonable fea . . . startling . . . of any creature born with more than four legs. I pushed the suit off me as if it were radioactive and crawled madly backwards.
Okay, okay. Calm down. It's just a skeleton. It looks exactly like the one in your science class. You know, the one you taped to your body and used to freak out the freshmen on Halloween. No big deal.
That's when it moved.
As if a glacier slowly rolled over my body, I froze from the feet up. Unable to move, I watched in (slight) fascination and a growing sensation of horror as the knight, bit by bit, lifted his limbs.
The bones snapped into place, creating clouds of collected dust puffing into the air. The joints of his armour screeched and clanged as they rubbed together. He cracked his jaw and spinal cord, as if stretching after a long sleep. Like incandescent light bulbs (the kind that are cheap and catch fire easily) his eye sockets began to glow an aged yellow colour. Somehow, without the use of vocal cords, a guttural, slimy moan made its way from between his loose, rotten teeth.
Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nopity nope.
I was NOT about to engage in a battle with a dude who looked like he crawled straight out of Dawn of the Dead – Medieval Edition. Every nerve in my body shouted at me all at once, ordering me to move. I jumped to my feet and took the ground at a limp/run, racing towards the grand staircase.
The carpet of the staircase was so smooth it was slippery, and my bad leg made it difficult to dart up it. I fell to a crawl, lifting my body up step by step as the the knight slowly gained on me, pulling myself using the railing. It was a race of snails, and I was losing. I only made it half way up before he towered over me. He pulled the battle axe out from its sheath on his back and held it high. I rolled to the side as the axe whistled down and carved a slice out of the staircase. The dead knight struggled to yank it back out and I quickly shuffled away.
"Grrraaauuurrrgh . . . "
You've got to be kidding me!
Just above me two more knights, one carrying a morning star (a spherical club dotted with sharpened spikes) the other with two flails (similar to the morning star, but the spiked ball was attached to a chain) spinning dangerously through the air. They groaned and moaned at me, their eyes flashing yellow. The other below me finally managed to free his axe, he took a stalking step forward.
I hauled myself up onto the railing and, ducking one of the flails and raising my legs to avoid another slicing uppercut from the axe, slid down backwards. My hair flew in my face me and my skirt lifted up as I plummeted towards the floor. I landed with a hopping motion on my one leg, arms spread to keep my balance. I turned around to see the rest of the previously decorative suits of armour slowly stepping towards me from all sides, closing an increasingly tightening circle around me.
I was trapped.
I raised my hands, palms out. "Now, let's talk about this, gentlemen. No need for deadly force." My weak laughter was met with silent, spectral stares. They held up their weapons all at once, creating a ceiling of sharp objects above my head. "I was just . . . leaving?" My voice squeaked. I cowered down to my knees, holding my arms above my head. I shut my eyes tightly, waiting for the inevitable.
With a grunt they swung their weapons–
"WAIT! Wait, you idiots. What kind of security system are you?" I heard the sound of someone's boot kicking armour. "Out of my way. No, don't look at me like that, you're the ones trying to decapitate her! Yes, that's right. Back to your posts, and think about what you did wrong today."
Frozen in the same position, I tentatively opened one eye.
At first I caught sight of a single, shined shoe. As my gaze rose I saw a pair of straight-legged blue uniformed pants, a golden belt, a blue jacket pinned to the side with golden buttons lined up the left edge of the hem, an open collar and then–
My eyes rolled into the back of my head as my body succumbed to a faint of shock.
The last thing I saw was Mikal's face bent over mine, the white light of the chandelier haloing around it. He smiled. "Missed me?"
End of Chapter 36