Part IV: Luc's Imprisonment

"He has hedged me in so that I cannot get out;

He has made my chain heavy.

He has blocked my ways with hewn stone..."

Lamentations 3:7; 3:9

Luc came to gradually, groggily tossing his head this way and that, trying to force himself to consciousness. He hated being in the dark--in more ways than one. He had to pry his eyes open, had to know what was going on...

Slowly, his lids began to respond, though it stung to lift them even the slightest bit. Not, not stung--ached. He choked on the dusty air, trying to wipe the debris from his eyes but found his arms caught in the hold of...something.

Luc twisted his body, to no avail. Something had a firm grasp on him, and it felt strangely like a pile of rocks. He shook his head hard, trying to get the tiny particles off of his lids so he could see just how bad the damage was. He kicked his legs unintentionally, confirming that ony his torso seemed affected. Finally, he was able to blink his green eyes open, then stared in shocked horror at what had him in its grip.

It was Sarah.

But it wasn't--coudn't have been. Because she was made of rock, nothing more than a statue.

For a long time, Luc looked up into the face that seemed so familiar, but now without that spark of life he'd drawn his strength from.

Or had it been strength? Hadn't he just used her? Wasn't she just a burden, after all?

Sarah's effigy was grey like the rubble around them, her head bowed and eyes closed, knelt as though in prayer...but Luc knew that Sarah never prayed. Worshiped him, yes; but she didn't pray to anyone.

He was glad the statue's eyes were closed. He didn't know how long they'd been in the ruins that had once been the temple of the Sindar, but if he was going to be stuck for a while, he didn't want the girl's bent head facing him and her cold eyes staring at him. She would have been the perfect vision of an angel, had her hands been clasped in prayer instead of pinning Luc down.

Guardian angel...

No, this bitch has to let me go!

Luc struggled in the stone's grasp, but he couldn't wriggle free. She was holding him too tightly--he'd have to lose both arms and probably half his torso to be able to get away.

The mage tried conjuring up a spell, but his hand only burned when he tried to use his rune. He didn't know what was wrong; he'd never felt that kind of sensation...he didn't think. His mind was just a tad bit foggy at the moment... Maybe he could break the rock...?

Luc struggled harder, but the stone arms didn't budge. He decided he'd best wait until some of his strength came back. He just needed a few minutes to wake up, to think.

Letting his mind wander, he began to remember letting himself be held in Sarah's lap, but that was only because he'd been too weak to fight her off. He hated being coddled like a child; he was a 30 year-old man, for God's sakes, and old enough by now to take care of himself. He'd had Leknaat playing mother with him for all those years; he didn't need or want Sarah becoming his big sister suddenly.

Sister...? That's never how she'd felt about him.

Looking up at the closed, sad eyes of the all-too-realistic figure holding him, Luc acknowledged the truth at last--Sarah had loved him. He had used her, abused her, and felt no remorse, and yet she'd loved him. Why? He hadn't cared--still didn't. He couldn't--not while Sasarai lived. He hated his brother with all his black heart, would have destroyed the world and everyone in it just to see his face twisted in agony--oh, just once!

But it was distressing to know that Sarah had forgiven him all this. And she loved him so much she wanted to protect him forever, especially unsettling now that he was caught in her jealous arms for...how long?

Not for much longer, Luc swore to himself. He'd break free of her grasp, and--since he'd obviously somehow survived this disaster--he'd go after his elder brother like the very wrath of God.

God...

Hadn't he tried to kill God?

Yes, and failed miserably, taking down countless lives--and souls--with him.

"Get a grip, Luc," he mumbled aloud. No need to be so hard on himself. This wasn't entirely his fault.

Of course not.

That's why we all have to share this punishment.

Luc frowned, wondering if the thoughts were his or...or somehow, was...?

"...Sarah?"

Luc was whispering to the statue, as afraid as at the same time hopeful that there would be a reply.

"Sarah...are you in there?"

No answer.

I'm losing it.

Finally deciding he was more conscious and regaining his strength, Luc gave a shove and tried to break free again of the sorceress's tight hold. No progress whatsoever. She had him good.

"Never did want to let me go, did you, you bitch?" he muttered. He hoped she was in there, listening to everything. He wasn't through with her yet.

All the squirming he was doing was only tearing at his jacket, and where it was open in the front, the rough stone of the statue was ripping through his thin shirt and scraping the tender flesh from his chest. He gave up his futile struggle against the stone, and tried instead to talk it into letting go.

"Sarah...you're dead. Don't you know that? Let me go; I've still got a life to live. I still have my revenge to exact! This is all Sasarai's fault; I've got to kill him, Sarah. Let me go, so I can set your soul free."

There was no reply.

He should have known better than to pray to an idol.

Luc didn't move for a long time. There was nothing to do, nothing to think about or to say. He was alone, imprisoned in Sarah's arms of stone. If he let himself think about it, he would have a thousand regrets flashing through his mind, and that would never get him out of this predicament. He didn't have a clue how to free himself. His rune was useless...but that might have been partly because he'd forgotten how to use it.

"This is all your fault," he grumbled at the statue after several days (it seemed) had passed. "I could have been out of here a long time ago, if only you hadn't wanted to keep me all to yourself. You probably did this. I'll bet you made this place crumble to ruins, then turned yourself to stone, knowing damn well I'd be stuck in your cold embrace until my own death."

Death...hadn't he wanted that? Peace?

This was not peace--being locked in the witch's arms for the rest of eternity...

This was hell.

And that's where I belong. In hell. With Sarah. With Yuber and Albert...

Luc ignored the fact that these thoughts were flowing through his mind unbidden, and instead focused on the latter mentioned. Yuber! Albert! Where could they be right now? Yuber had a tendency to run like chickenshit the moment he'd gotten his fill of blood and death; Albert... Albert was probably halfway back to Harmonia by now, the bastard, gloating over the success of his egocentric schemes. So that meant no one could help him--Sarah was unwilling, or perhaps unable, and she was the only one within reach.

Within reach. That's a sick joke.

Luc sighed out loud, but it hurt. The dust in the air stung the insides of his nose and tasted terrible in his mouth, and the pressure of two rock-hard arms pressing into his chest prevented his lungs from getting their fill, as it was. How long must he stay this way?!

As the days--weeks--months--years--seconds--passed, he began to wish he would die. God!!! How long had it been since his last meal? Why wasn't he hungry? The air was so dusty and dry. Why didn't he thirst?

It was impossible, really, for time to be passing, if he had no natural physical needs like that. But why, then, had his hair doubled--the tripled--in length? Why were there now white strands tickling his neck and falling into his eyes where once there had been auburn?

He couldn't sleep. All that time... and he hadn't even been able to keep his eyes closed. There was simply no fatigue. He felt refreshed, awake, clean and relaxed. But that was just his body. His mind was alive, and quickly losing sanity.

Or so he wished. If he could just give in to madness, perhaps it wouldn't matter any more that he was trapped this way.

Or perhaps he was already mad.

Luc had been hearing a faint shuffling sound for some time now, but had convinced himself that he was imagining it. Now it seemed a bit louder, a bit nearer. Rats? he wondered. Splendid.

But it didn't sound like rats. Maybe just one big one. Whatever it was, it was getting closer.

Luc tensed, unsure of whether to worry or not. It was getting closer, but he didn't yet know if it was dangerous or not. It could be something larger and more menacing. It could even be help coming. The chances of that were slim, but if he called out... If he shouted, he might scare away anything that might potentially harm him. And if instead he attracted its attention, then so be it; what else was he going to do? Lie in Sarah's arms and wait to die of old age?

"He-e-e-e-elp!" Luc rasped. No good. It had been so long since he had spoken, his vocal cords seemed to have dried up. He choked on the dust that had settled inside his throat, then tried again. "Heeeeelp!" His voice sounded a little stronger. "Help!" he tried again. "Can you hear me? Someone help me! God, please help me!!"

He paused, listening as the echo of his shout faded. Then he heard the shuffling sound again, ever closer, but not approaching any faster.

"Help!" Luc cried again, but this time from fear. His mind didn't try to rationalize the overwhelming sense of dread that had washed over him, but now more than ever he was frantic to escape Sarah's merciless grasp. He kicked and writhed, screaming in terror as the THING approached.

The shuffling was loud now. He could see its misshapen shadow coming up from around the corner. Tears streamed from his wide eyes as he pressed himself into Sarah's cold arms for protection. But he knew she couldn't save him from reality.

Albert Silverberg shuffled slowly into view. He was splattered with blood from head to toe, his clothes ragged and filthy. He was dragging his leg at an impossible angle, leaving a dark stain in its wake.

Luc's horror became disgust as he watched his one-time companion creep slowly nearer. "...Albert?" he hissed. "Is it you?"

The strategist did not answer; he merely continued to shuffle forward, his head hung low and his hair falling forward, covering his face.

Luc watched him getting closer and closer. "What's the matter with you?" No answer. "What happened, Albert? What happened to you?" Still no reply.

Now Albert stopped to stand before him, balanced precariously on one leg, while the other lagged awkwardly behind.

Luc's heart began to pound furiously. "What's the matter?" he demanded. "Will you not speak?!"

Albert seemed still suddenly, moreso than he had seemed a moment before. Was he going to just stand there forever? Would he turn to stone like Sarah had? At least he wasn't looking at Luc; he didn't want anyone's eyes staring at him, stone or not.

But Albert wasn't finished. He slowly lifted his head to look at Luc, the cracking sound of his neck straightening echoing revoltingly in the hollow cavern. The face that peered out at Luc from behind the long, blood-matted hair was hardly human. It was, rather, a bulbous mass of pus and blood, with just a hint of bone underneath.

With a strangled cry, Luc jerked violently in Sarah's grasp. Albert's eye--the one that hadn't been forced back into his skull--was staring at him. The expression of the creature he had become was unreadable, his features just a splatter on the image that should have been his face.

"What?!" Luc screamed. "What do you want from me!? What do you want?!"

"I... want..."

Luc stopped shouting long enough to listen as the thing began to slowly speak.

Albert's throat filled with blood, which then burbled profusely out of his mouth. His teeth had torn through his lips when the columns of the ruins had crushed his body, so every word he spoke brought another gush of blood to plaster the gaping hole that had been his mouth.

"Yooou..." he rasped.

"W-what?" Luc whimpered.

"Luc... I have..." Suddenly blood spurted from Albert's mouth, splashing onto Luc's face and freezing him with horror. "I have come for you."

Blood poured as though from a faucet, and Luc trembled as Albert's head appeared to melt and collapse into itself. Yet the body remained standing, its leg trapped in that awful pose, the sight causing hot bile to burn at the back of Luc's throat. He closed his eyes shut tight, clamping his lips together firmly and willing himself to think about something other than the frightening specter that had just come to him, but there was nothing else to think about. It was all he knew.

Gradually he became aware of a different sensation. There was a high-pitched whine in the air, and the hair on the back of his neck rose like from an electric current. He somehow recognized the stir of a teleportation spell, and allowed his lids to flutter open once more. Albert's crushed figure remained standing in front of him, but to the right of it the floor was glowing and wavering, and another moment later the effects of the spell were gone, and there stood Yuber, looking ragged but whole.

"Thank God you're here!" Luc choked. "Get this thing off me" --he writhed in the statue's grasp-- "and let's get out of here!"

"All in good time," Yuber said quietly. His words seemed slurred, like they were wobbling.

"W-what do you mean?" Luc asked warily, sensing that something wasn't as it should be.

"We have to wait for Sarah," Yuber replied, as though it were obvious. His jaw moved mechanically but unrealistically, opening too wide and swinging like it was on a loose hinge. The inside of his mouth was stained crimson and violet, and his teeth were tainted the color of blood. His eyes appeared dull, and where they had been mismatched in color, now they were the same sallow shade. His shirt was gone, as were his hat and boots. His pants had been torn off below the knees, and Luc could see that the half-demon's entire body was covered in open blisters and boils. And...where were his swords?

Luc felt his body give a shiver. "Sarah's right here, Yuber!" he shouted. "The bitch has me stuck, can't you see? Why don't you go and find something to get me out of this?"

"That's why we're here," Yuber nodded slowly, his lower jaw continuing to move after the words had fallen from his mouth. "To take you away."

"We? How can you?! Look at Silverberg!" he shouted back at him, but Yuber didn't turn his head, or even respond. "All right, then," Luc growled. "Forget it. I'll get out of here by myself!" He jerked hard, and heard something crack. But it was his shoulder, not the statue. He gave a sharp cry of pain, his eyes blurring. He tried another tactic, pushing with all his might with his legs, trying to move in the rock's embrace.

There had to be some way out of this! If he could move just a little... But he couldn't. The bottoms of his boots scraped against the hard floor, sending little pebbles flying, but he didn't budge, and neither did the statue. After a few moments of futile thrashing, he gave up once again and with a whimper of hopelessness, collapsed in Sarah's arms.

Albert and Yuber would be of no help. They stood still as statues themselves, though Yuber's mouth was in constant motion. It looked like he was chewing something, but his mouth never did manage to quite close completely. It was any wonder Albert was standing upright. Looking at them made Luc sick. They had always made him sick--Yuber with his thirst for blood and Albert with his selfish ambitions. They were useless from the beginning. He realized that now. If only he had known that sooner--!

Next time, he swore. Next time, there will be no mistake!

But why should there be a next time? Why should he choose anyone else? They were damned from the start, all of them. It had been his scheme that was the problem.

Luc squeezed his eyes shut tight, growling with rage. "Who's...saying that?! Who's putting these ideas into my head? Get out! Get out of my mind, damn you!"

"He is everywhere," Yuber wailed in a frightening tone that Luc had never heard before. The bishop's eyes flew open and he cried out in horror as Yuber's jaw began to rip loose from his face. His colorless cheeks sagged as though they were melting, his mouth opening wider and wider. He didn't even appear to be straining to make such a ghastly expression; his face just smeared until, with a sickening dripping sound, his jaw dropped to the floor, leaving behind a grisly mask with torn, frayed cheeks and a snake-like tongue that lapped all over the upper lip of his mouth, eagerly drinking in the blood its lower half had left behind.

Luc wanted to scream. He wanted to scream and scream, until someone on this God-forsaken planet heard him and came to see what was wrong. But no sound would come from his raw throat.

He was too frightened to look away, too frightened to speak. He laid there shaking, choking, until vaguely he became aware of the coldness in the cavern.

Perhaps it was the sight of his own breath that made him realize something new was approaching, if not the icy air that poured in from somewhere unknown. But before long, he could see the shadow of something coming from around the corner of the cave in the direction that Albert had come from just a while before. What could this be? The things before him had once been Albert and Yuber, and Sarah had him locked in her cold embrace, so what was it?!

Water.

At first he wasn't certain. Peering between the standing corpses of Albert and Yuber, he thought he saw the glimmering reflection of water on the rock wall. But how could that be? There wasn't a river or even so much as a stream nearby.

Yet the water pooled in slowly, the sound of it growing louder as it rolled in like a slow-moving, gentle ocean wave. And with it came light, bright light. This wasn't a comforting sight, however. Luc felt something cold and unforgiving in that light, and above all else he did not want to be caught by it. Stay here with Albert-corpse and Yuber-corpse--fine. Be drowned in the icy blue waters slowly reaching for him--fine. But not the light!

For a moment Luc thought that the water really would reach far enough to wet him, if not drown him. But it seemed to reach a certain point and stop there, still flowing like ocean waves; it appeared to have served its purpose. Which meant there was more yet to come.

And here she is.

He knew it was Sarah, despite the cold grip of the statue holding him. Who else could it be? He wasn't surprised to see the pale, bluish figure of a woman approaching, walking toward him with the water up to her knees. She came directly out of that light and came at him slowly, unhurried. It was time to leave. The end. Why rush? It was the last moment they would share on earth.

The magess came closer, and soon she was merely wading in cool, gentle surf. She was less ragged than her fellow cadavers, but somehow her visage was all the more frightening. Her skin was pallid with a bluish hue, stretched tightly over her bony, thin face. But it was her eyes that were most horrifying. They bulged from her skull as though they belonged to a much larger creature, and they had no irises, no pupils, and no white; they were simply pale, yellow egg-yokes floating in her face.

"Luc.....!"

Suddenly he no longer felt the statue's hold on his weak body. He was half-sitting, half-lying on the cold floor, his head hung in defeat. He let out a lengthy sigh, one that he'd been holding back for so long. His white hair fell around him where he reclined, and he somehow knew that he must not look any better than the others. Gathering his strength and slowly staggering to his feet, he looked up to meet her gaze with his weary eyes. "I'm ready," he said hoarsely. "Let's go."

"...Together?" She looked at him hopefully.

He nodded slowly. "Together."

Sarah let out a little cry. She'd have cried if only her eyes hadn't rotted so long ago. She watched as Yuber turned to face her, but he didn't look at her. He simply stepped into the water, which turned a few shades darker around his ankles. The darkness spread as he walked, and by the time Albert Silverberg had managed to shuffle his broken body in the right direction and step toward the light, the water was already black.

Luc looked down, afraid to follow them, but afraid not to. He knew, after all, that he'd already made his choice; this was the consequence of his decision.

"Together?"

Looking up again, he saw that Sarah's cold, dead hand was reaching for his eagerly. Up ahead Albert and Yuber had turned back, waiting.

Luc reached out and took Sarah's hand. Together they went to meet their friends, and together the four of them walked into the light.

The Lord has done what He purposed;

He has fulfilled His word

Which He commanded in the days of old.

He has thrown down and has not pitied.

In the day of the Lord's anger

There was no refugee or survivor.

THE END