From the moment he'd awakened from the drugged state of delirium, Dietfried realized that he and his friends were in deep shit. This idea was exacerbated by the realization that he'd already been awake for some time now, but the hallucinations persisted. He watched as the room twisted and swirled beneath his feet, colors shifting and melting into one another, and voices he recognized were distorted into demonic rumbles of verbal thunder. The brief glimpses of normalcy he received was similar to being certain he was drowning and about to die, then he had an unexpected opportunity for a deep gasp of air before the waves covered him again. There was a soft, high-pitched ringing in his ears that pervaded everything, ferociously soaking into his consciousness even in the moments he could recognize the world around him, even if he did not know where they had taken them. Walking was difficult: the floor beneath him sank like mud, or the room reoriented into a sideways tilt, and he was still expected to progress as soldiers -or were they truly those ghastly twisted creatures with fangs and blackened skin?- shoved and half-dragged him along their chosen path.
Eternity stretched itself into those seconds, minutes, ...hours. Just as Dietfried was sure he'd been thrown straight into hell itself, the party halted, and the nearest beast slammed him onto his knees. He closed his eyes a moment, trying to grasp his rationality. Monsters only came in the form of men, when their hearts were blackened by hate and rage. He squeezed his right hand with his left where they were tied together behind his back. Solid. This, this was real…. Right? Doubt wiggled into his certainty and rotted it from within. It filled with worms and….
"Worried, Dietfried?," a voice just before his face rumbled, and for another gasping breath of a moment, the world was clear of the filter of horrors. He opened his eyes and peered at Jefferies, feeling truly alive for that moment. "Tell you what…. I'm willing to give you a kindness in exchange for your good behavior so far." Then, the world twisted, and was full of the dark blight of nightmares. Dietfried watched as Jefferies became a huge bug-like creature, black and shiny with armored tusks that glinted with sharpness. Those tusks wrapped around him, threatening, warning that he was food, and it was the predator. It could gobble him up in moments… on a mere whim. "I will release the blond boy, and your brother… for a price." Dietfried scowled, forcing himself to be still despite the nearness of black torment moving ever closer to his flesh. It wasn't until that moment that he realized he was without a shirt, and that was the detail that nearly broke his composure. He loathed for his scars to shine….
"What about Violet and KJ?," Dietfried managed past teeth he hadn't realized he'd been grinding to prevent the scream of horror that bubbled like vomit at the back of his throat. He could hear his father's voice like wind on the back of his neck: You scream, make any sound at all, and I'll show you what terror and pain truly are. The bug made a tsk sound, although it did not relinquish the sharp pincers' position in order to display the condensation. "Now, now…. Don't be unreasonable. Your tool isn't in any condition to be moved around, and KJ may prove useful to me. The other two will just be nuisances." Dietfried's stomach churned, and for a moment he thought that he really would be sick, right there on the bug. He sucked in a harsh breath, and forced his words out past the fear, past the illness. "In exchange for what?," he demanded, putting more strength into his voice than he felt.
"Continued cooperation, of course," Jefferies said in a tone that was bordering on condescension. "When I get you home, don't go running off, or attacking my people. Just hear me out: that's all I ask. In exchange, your brother and the blond boy will be provided a ride home – blindfolded, of course, but you know how it is…." Dietfried had to look down to collect himself as the bug transformed into a sharp-toothed ghoul made of shifting shadow and glowing yellow eyes. He felt more than saw the clawed hand reach out and touch his chin to bring his head gently up to meet those awful eyes. Then, as Dietfried watched, the ghoul became a spitting image of his father. He looked into the cold green of his father's eyes, so like his own, and felt an old rage burn through him. It blasted through his fear to overwhelm him and he embraced it, allowed it to bring him strength. This, at least, was a battle he'd fought before and knew how to win. As though he'd sensed Dietfried's change in demeanor, Jefferies said with Mr. Bougainvillea's mouth: "Now, now….What is your answer, Dietfried?" Dietfried snarled, and through still gritted teeth, he answered: "Do it."
They blindfolded him and put him on some sort of vehicle with a large engine that rumbled loudly. He was able to lay flat on a cool surface, just breathing. His world had been particularly narrow when his eyes were open: all he could do was focus on one step at a time, each individual breath in, then out. Not screaming from one moment to the next. With his eyes shut, he only had to cope with the occasional whisper that scorched his soul. He let his senses branch out, feeling his environment. There was a warmth next to him, and there were soft breaths coming slowly from the body there. Perhaps it was KJ? Dietfried tried speaking to him, but received no reply. Likely, his friend had been drugged as he was. The silence stretched forward, and unconsciousness claimed him as the minutes stretched into hours.
His dreams were warped and unusual, with only one really feeling solid in his memory. He could hear a steady dripping of water in a world with no color, only shades of gray. Slowly, the swirl of color solidified into a large stone fountain full of carvings of bountiful times: naked women and fruits, treasure offerings and jewels. As he looked at it, the scene tilted sideways, and the fountain decayed before him before it straightened to a stagnated, moss-covered tribute to better times. He approached the fountain, looking down to where he expected to find water, but it was filled with blood. From within its depths, a head floated to the surface, Dietfried watching all the while with horrified fascination. Then, he recognized the partially rotted features, and made a choked sound of revulsion.
Dietfried snapped up with a gasp, looking around for the danger his body insisted there was. He was in a bedchamber with one small, barred window near the ceiling. The bed was cushioned well, yet firm, and the sheets were silk. The floor was made of brick, but covered by a thin antique rug covered with intricate designs. There was one small, curvy oak table in the room draped with a doily and two wooden chairs that matched its carved designs. On the table was a few sheets of paper, a pen, and nothing else. There was a chamber pot in the furthest corner of the room near the door, which was likely locked. Dietfried struggled to get his breathing under control and thought how strange it was that all seemed…normal. That is, until Zillipheradora Von Weber strode through the door with the click of heels on the brick floor that changed into soft whispers as she hit the carpet. So much for normal…
He peered at her from under his lashes, feeling dazed and somehow numbed by the combination of his dream of her head and her sudden appearance, as though his tolerance limit had been exceeded, and he could handle nothing further – could process nothing more. She pulled one of the chairs out and draped her long legs across it, so that she leaned on the back of the chair with one leg on each side of the back, her elbows braced on the top and her chin resting on her folded arms. Her eyes twinkled at him, and he knew he must be delirious. He rubbed at his eyes, and just like that, she was gone. But the pleading in her eyes haunted him. With renewed vigor, Dietfried stood. Zilly's face reminded him of who he was, why he was there, and what he needed to do. Violet was still alive, and now he had to find her and KJ in this place so that he could get them the hell out safely. He started toward the door, but felt a draft and glanced down to find himself utterly naked. Well… there were only so many things around the room, and none of which could possibly be hiding clothing. With a flustered click of his tongue, he snatched the sheet up from the bed, wrapped himself in it, and strode toward the door without another moment of hesitation.
He reached for the door knob, and was pleased to find it unlocked. Boldly, he strode out of the door only to hear the soldier posted there shout, and something stabbed sharply into his arm. He grunted, feeling all at once disoriented -as if he'd been slapped by a large, speeding fist- and dropped to one knee. It was only moments later that the world began to twist into the same terrible nightmare he'd been experiencing before. He cursed, closed his eyes, and reminded himself it wasn't real. He opened his eyes and glared at the soldier, who appeared as a giant bat, with a wide gaping jaw and large round, red eyes. He saw the bat flinch, and it made a spine-tingling screech of alarm as he stood to tower over it. "Take me to Jefferies," he demanded, only just remembering that he had to hold the sheet in place around him as it slipped from around his shoulders and fell halfway to the floor before he caught it, and forced it to stay around his hips by gripping the fabric with tight fists at the sides. The bat-thing nodded wordlessly, and they began striding up the hallway.
Others stared as they progressed, but Dietfried only had eyes for the path before him as he gathered his strength. He was done sniveling to this strange world he'd been cast into! If they wanted him as king, then they would not be permitted to treat him and his people like playthings. They'd managed to surprise him before: they would not get to see him weak again. No matter what they threw at him, he would bring Violet home. He would fail neither her nor KJ as he'd failed Zilly. The bat approached a large wooden door and two other guards -these looked quite a lot like bulldogs in suites. The bat opened its maw, but Dietfried stepped around it, and it cowered. "Stand aside," he demanded, glaring at the bulldogs. "I will speak with your master." The two looked at each other, then lifted floppy jowls to snarl at him. Dietfried wouldn't ask nicely a second time. He released the blanket and used his legs to thrust himself forward with both arms extended out, thus slamming the thickness of his arm muscles into their throats and knocking them backwards into the room beyond, where Jefferies awaited. Abandoning the sheet behind him, Dietfried strode naked into the foyer of his former boss, an expression of annoyance at the mild inconvenience marring his handsome features.
Jefferies sent the maid he'd been speaking to away, who was gaping while she blushed and made incoherent sounds of startled appreciation mixed with protest at Dietfried's physique. Dietfried watched her go with uninterested eyes, seeing her as a cat-like creature cautiously stalking out of the room, then he turned to Jefferies, who laughed. Oddly enough, the man was just a man to Dietfried, although he suspected there was enough monster hidden within to fill his nightmares anew. "Well, that's quite the entrance," Jefferies said after he'd had a good laugh. "Better than old times, wouldn't you agree?" The response was automatic, and Dietfried was a bit startled to hear himself answer with such bitterness. "This is not even close to the times before, Jefferies," he snipped, and was surprised to see actual hurt in Jefferies' eyes.
"Ah, yes. Well, I do suppose I have much to discuss with you…. But first, let's get you in some clothes." He reached into a drawer, and pulled out a white shirt and black pants. Dietfried raised an eyebrow, but slid into the clothes without protest, and once the fabric covered him, he felt soothed by the presence of cloth on his back. He really hated for the scars there to see the light of day. "If you expect me to just sit here and have a nice chat like we used to, you've deluded yourself terribly. Where are my people? I refuse to cooperate until I know they are okay."
Jefferies plopped down at a table with a heavy sigh. "Your brother and the blond boy have been taken to your home in Liden, left heavily drugged under the care of your housekeeper…." He peered out over folded hands, eyes growing colder. "The other two are somewhere in this building, under my continued care…. I thought you might feel this way, so I have arranged for KJ to be brought here for you to be assured, but the tool must stay where it is. It is a threat to my home if let loose, and I doubt that any of my men would be safe near it. Plus, it's a bit… rusty right now. Needs a good polishing up before being transported to a different location." He shrugged. "One will have to do, for now." He made a gesture, and a servant began to bring in platters of food to sit on the table. Jefferies indicated the chair next to him, requesting that Dietfried sit without a word. Dietfried hesitated, cautious, but he slowly sank into the chair, staring at the food that looked so foreign to him in this drugged sate. He couldn't imagine actually eating: he wasn't even hungry. The sound of the door opening drew his gaze, and with relief he saw the bat letting in the scaled-soldier and a haggard-looking KJ, who looked blessedly normal outside of the obvious signs of their rough capture.
"Huh… the bad guys have doilies," he remarked snidely, and the scaled soldier gave a choked cough. Something tight in Dietfried's chest loosened, and he stood, taking a few halting steps toward his friend before he froze. He didn't want to risk KJ coming to harm because he showed too much preference toward him…. KJ looked at him for a moment, then his gaze sharpened, looking him up and down before turning to Jefferies, who sat with nonchalance in his white uniform, watching. KJ's eyes smeared the man with his disdain. "You sick bastard," he snipped, "What game do you think you are playing at?" The harsh tone of his voice caused Dietfried a brief flashback of his father that made him flinch, and he noticed in his peripheral vision as KJ turned to him, reaching for him.
"Dietfried," he whispered, voice soothing, Dietfried turned surprised eyes up to meet his gaze. He opened his mouth to say more, but Jefferies moved to press some button he had on a remote nearby, causing KJ to gasped sharply, the soldier to curse, then his friend was falling to the floor, clearly unconscious. The other man caught KJ and eased him the rest of the way to the ground, and Dietfried appreciated the care he'd taken in doing so. He forced himself to focus on the other man's face, saving it to memory. If he could, he would ensure this man came to no harm for his kindness. Anger snapped in his eyes as he turned back to Jefferies, who frowned disapprovingly in return. "I can see that we will be able to make no progress today," Jefferies said, annoyance leaking into his voice. "Take that one back to his cell, Mardoc."
Dietfried opened his mouth to oppose, but a terrible monster came barreling into the room, tentacles waving, a gaping maw full of teeth and a green slimy tongue slithering across the hole that led down, down…. It sized KJ and the soldier in a spray of blood, and… Dietfried felt the blood drain from his face as he staggered backward, lost his balance, and ungracefully dropped to the floor, landing on his backside. He blinked hard, and saw Mardoc peering curiously at him over KJ's head. They were fine, and there was no creature there to shred them into bite-sized pieces. Dietfried closed his eyes and rested his forehead in his hands with a sharp curse. From behind him, he could feel Jefferies lean closer. "...Dietfried?," he asked, caution and true alarm filling his tone. "What the hell?"
"Those drugs you people keep pouring into me are terrible," Dietfried half-snarled. "They cause the worst hallucinations…. You wouldn't believe-"
"Hallucinations?", Jefferies repeated, incredulous. "It's meant to be a sedative, not…. All this time you've been…. Mother's Great Ass, Bougainvillea. You should've said something…." He carted Dietfried away to the herbalist then, fussing all the way like a disturbed hen with a chick. The distinct change in behavior confounded Dietfried, so much so that the next few hours was a blurr of faces, time, and the sound of Jefferies' voice.
Dietfried had spent many days in Jefferies' home during his childhood, but the last time he'd carried on so was when Dietfried had popped his right knee out of its socket by falling out of a tree while playing. It was truly a nostalgic feeling to see the man talking about his well being with others. He'd been so somber, a young man of twenty years during that time, as he'd made the announcement to Dietfried's father to advise of the accident and his recommended follow up care. He remembered his friend's ready expression when the bomb of his father's wrath burst. Th memory brought a wrenching pain in his chest, and as he laid down for the night, Dietfried found himself aching to see his friend as he used to be, yet knowing in his heart that person had died long ago.
When next he awoke, his mind was sharp again, and his first thoughts were of Violet: her smile, the feeling of her hand in his, the sound of her voice, the color of her ocean blue eyes…. He sat up and looked toward the door, feeling the ferocity of his warrior spirit stir. He stood, and moved toward the door, his expression livid. "I'm coming to find you, Violet," he promised to the air, fists clenched into fists, ready for the fight he was sure to get on the way. He would start with the dungeons, and he would take down any opposition that he faced along his path.
He jerked the door open in a determined blur of movement, only to come face to face with Jefferies, who looked… apologetic? He wondered how long the man had been standing outside of the door. Jefferies cleared his throat, looking distinctly uncomfortable. "Well, good. You're up," he said, and Dietfried recognized that look on his face: expectant, firm, unwavering, yet apologetic… just like when he went to face down Dietfried's father after he'd popped his knee out of place. Dietfried tensed, as if for a blow, knowing he wouldn't like whatever the man was about to say. "I might as well get to the point, then…. There was an...incident last night. Your tool is broken… beyond repair this time."
Dietfried stared at him numbly. "What…? Do you mean she's… dead? Violet is dead?" Jefferies nodded, and emotions flooded over Dietfried. He knew nothing showed on his face, but within his body a grenade had just burst in a fiery blast of devastation. The concussion of the blast left him numb and dazed, and he knew that the wreckage he'd have to assess later would be excessive. Shock and denial ran through him, but he couldn't get his mind to catch up to the whirlwind of his heart.
"Alas, we must move locations immediately," Jefferies continued, his tone changing with chilled formality. "I must insist that you be sedated for this part of our journey, but it will be a different medication this time, so no hallucinations…." Dietfried didn't even notice the hands of the soldier that held him in place. He didn't feel the stick of the needle. When he fell, he didn't even realize he was on the floor and losing consciousness as he turned to find the well of blackness he held within him, holding the gaping emptiness that once had a pulse and a purpose. That darkness had followed him since childhood, growing, feeding on his pain. Dietfried felt himself look into the ceaseless pit, and felt that it was watching him too, just as he had hundreds of times before. It was a feeling he only got when he was so tired of living that he wished for an alternative: the thick, murky depression that clouded his mind while he looked down the barrel of his gun, and thought about pulling the trigger. He'd fought against that empty feeling so many times in the past… only to be faced with it again and again. Now, he had no reason to fight it. He looked into its wide arms and decided it was the only friend he had. Without hesitation, he let himself be consumed, knowing that he would likely never emerge from that lightless depth again. From the cold echoes of its presence, Jefferies' voice whispered: She's dead.