Nine – A Ghastly Shadow
When Willow woke up the next day, she found herself staring at the same dark metal roof looming down on her. It felt like it could snap at any moment and crush her, not even sparing her the time to scream.
It didn't seem like a very bad idea at the moment.
She could hear the rats screeching in the corner, a typical sound that indicated their aggressive nature. Closing her eyes shut again, she told herself that she needed to get her mind off of her current situation. Even if there was a little flash of hope anywhere, she was ready to catch it and dwell on it for the remaining six days. She couldn't let herself fall into the abyss, not yet.
To distract her mind, she tried to remember things from all the books she had read.
Gently resting her hand on her forehead, she played a game in her mind:
How big is the average bull rat?
What's the differnce between the electric circuit of the wall of light and the arc pylon?
What is the metal used for the construction of the new age building?
When and where did the art of swordsmanship originate? . . .
She found that she had been asking herself the questions to which she knew the answers perfectly. She shook her head in disdain and tried to keep her mind blank for a few minutes. The harder she tried, the more distracted her mind became.
Soon she wasn't trying to keep her mind empty. A wave of memories was flooding her, and she met with them in a spectacular way, her mind instantly leaving behind the present and embracing the past.
She could almost see the wooden farm house, hidden away in the far Eastern shores of Gristol, surrounded by a lush garden full of green grass and white daisies.
The fragrance of freshly watered grass filled the air, and the soft sun touched her skin gently.
This was a long, long time ago . . .
When she was barely eight, and had her black hair cut in a boyish style. Back when her mother was still alive.
"Willie, breakfast is ready. Come on!"
The words still echoed in Willow's ears, and her mind conjured up the warm image of her mother, dressed in her robes, standing at the entrance and calling her.
There were even rare times when she called her to watch one of her "special sessions". There was a small room in the attic, in which was an operating bed and a tall, black lamp that made a soft golden light. The bed was always neatly covered in white and peach colored blankets. Beside the bed was a stool on which her mother would sit. There was a separate chair for Willow in the corner, placed at a distance from the bed.
She could remember the things that her mother said to her clients before beginning the session.
"How was your day? How are you feeling? . . . . . Any special events today? . . . . Let's talk about your night time dreams. Maybe it'll help . . ."
The stories that her mother told her about different lands and people always fascinated her.
"Mummy, what's a whale?"
"A whale? Well, it's a really big fish that lives in the ocean."
"How big?"
"Hmm . . . Big enough to eat you up!"
"Aah!"
Her memories drifted far ahead, skipping the dreadful time when she had lost her mother. She remembered the five weeks she had spent in an orphanage before her uncle stepped into her life and adopted her.
As a child, she never had any friends in her town, especially when she was in the orphanage. She had once been given a solid beating from one of the ladies that ran the place, because she had punched another orphan boy who repeatedly called her mother a witch.
About ten years later, when she was eighteen, her uncle passed away too, and his wife – Aunt Tamina, as she remembered – suddenly turned cold on her. She was forced to leave the place, not because of her Aunt, but because of the bitterness the place seemed to hold since her uncle died. She couldn't live in the same place mourning the loss of her two beloved family members like Aunt Tamina did.
That was around the time when she had roamed the streets for hours, looking at people, observing places, but never speaking to anybody. When she returned home, her Aunt didn't seem to care at all.
By the end of the same month, she promised herself that she would start life anew and get into The Academy of Natural Philosophy. She found a temporary job as a waitress in one of the low class pubs in the city. She worked for seven hours a day, used her salary to purchase subject books at second-hand, and spend eight hours learning.
There were all kinds of books – Science, Mathematics, Geometry, History and Literature. Strangely, she grew to love them.
In three months, she got into the academy in the first attempt itself, with a promising scholarship. She bid goodbye to her lost Aunt, ditched her job at the pub and packed all her books which filled two suitcases.
When she first looked at the city, nearly ten years before the plague, she felt exhilarated. Everything was big, promising and wondrous. The Academy blew her mind even more.
She could picture the grand marble pillars and walls, the tall spires and stone statues. The best statue was of a man holding the globe in his hands, holding it high above his head. That was the icon of the Academy.
Clank!
Willow opened her eyes immediately and sat up to see the guard at her door. For a second, she was surprised to find herself in the dark room, and then she remembered the previous day's events.
'It's long past eight, missy.'
It was the guard from yesterday, who had given her a fair amount of information regarding the prison.
'You wanna clean yo'self up?' He asked genuinely.
A shower sounded divine to her, but she seriously doubted the prison's public baths.
'No thank you,' she replied. 'I'll just . . . stay back.'
'As you wish. If you need water, just call old Tom, an' that's me.'
He gave her a nod and left to the other cells, checking on the prisoners.
Willow leaned back and looked at the low metal roof again.
When night fell, prison guard Tom waited patiently for his duty relief, so that the night watch could take over. There was still thirty minutes until eight, and he walked through the narrow corridor, looking into the bars and humming a tune to himself. At the end of the corridor, the door to the balcony was open. A cool breeze blew in, touching his nearly bald head.
He stopped in his tracks, staring at the doors. He clicked his tongue in frustration, because he knew that the lazy idiot Wilbur – the guard who usually poised in the balcony – had forgotten to lock it up again. The last time he forgot, Higher watch guard Grimp had cut off half of his salary for the month.
Anybody after that would've learned, but not that rascal, Tom thought to himself. The cells at the end of the corridor were empty, and the last cell with a prisoner on this floor was the one with Willow Ride in it. From the way she sat on the bed the whole day, Tom knew that she probably didn't notice Wilbur leaving it open.
He sighed and walked into the balcony, taking a moment to lean on the railings and look at the beautiful scenery in front of his eyes. The prison walls weren't high enough to hide the brilliant lights on Kaldwin's Bridge, nor the faint luminescence of the Academy far, far away.
As he stood on the metal base, admiring the city, a dark figure descended the walls rapidly and landed behind him, making not the slightest sound.
Tom didn't notice the looming presence until it was too late. When he almost turned back, a sharp knife sliced his neck instantly, and the last thing he had seen in this life was a terrifying mask.
The dark figure lifted the dead guard's body and tossed it down the balcony, watching it fall into the water with a loud splash. Immediately, guards on the ground were alerted, and an alarm went off in the building.
He turned and walked into the corridor fearlessly, and caught another guard at the inner railing.
'Ah!' The guard yelled and stepped back. He stumbled and fell, and quickly came back onto his feet, rushing to the stairs. The dark figure summoned up a swarm of rats from the floor, and they devoured the guard mercilessly. The prisoners watched the sight in horror, and soon screams began to echo on the floor, mingling with the blaring alarms and flashing red bulbs.
He walked to Willow's cell, and looked in to find her standing, staring back directly at him. Her face held terror – her eyes wide, her mouth agape. She stepped back, noticing the deranged smile that the mask seemed to wear.
He lifted an index finger upto the deranged smile, gesturing her to remain silent. She could only assume that he was being sarcastic, because the yells and orders of guards filled the air, and soon the sounds of boots echoed in the distance.
Her mind was tangled up. She didn't know what to make of it, of the evil looking mask that was now pulling away the prison bars with his bare hands. That was when she noticed the familiar mark on his wrist.
She stumble backwards, unaware of the sudden weakness that seemed to conquer her body and mind. He tore away the bars and stepped in, his tall figure shadowing her face.
She looked up at the empty metal eyes, and saw nothing but a tiny reflection of her own self – almost cowering.
She opened her mouth, and the words that came out sounded more like a desperate plea.
'Corvo?'
He lunged forward and lifted her up with ease, hefting her on his shoulder. He walked out of the cell, to find himself facing an army of guards.
Willow didn't know what to say or do, because she knew he was saving her like he had promised, but – she was afraid.
He raised his marked hand and clenched his fist. It glowed in a brilliant gold, and a sudden gush of wind pushed all the guards backwards, tossing some of them over the railings.
When they had recovered and were standing back on their feet – he was long gone.
Willow felt surreal, like she was being carried through rooftops and pillars at an incredible speed. She was starting to feel nauseous, but the constant rhythm that he kept saved her from getting out of bounds. In what seemed like minutes, they had reached the rooftop of an abandoned building, and the prison walls were not even in sight.
He tossed her onto the tiled roof, and looked to his sides like he was expecting someone.
Willow moved away from him instinctively, because this thing that stood in front of her - this creature - it couldn't be Corvo. She was ready to believe anything but that. This thing wasn't even human, it was twisted and sick.
She slowly got up on her feet, one hand on her stomach. He turned to look at her, and a cold chill went down her spine.
Something moved on both the sides of the rooftop. The air itself was forming into figures. Human figures. The moonlight only cast a faint border , and it showed red leather suits and vapour masks.
Willow didn't have to guess who they were. She wanted to run, to move, but her feet suddenly abandoned her commands.
'What do we do with her now?' One of the assassins asked the creature.
He looked at all of them, and then back at Willow.
'Take her in.'
The voice was nowhere near to Corvo's. It was cold, hoarse and deep.
The next moment, one of the whalers approached her, and hit her hard on the head.
Willow staggered and fell onto the tiled roof, slipping into darkness.
Corvo was patrolling on the Empress' floor, trying to get his attention onto his job. He couldn't help but think about the mask, which was now hidden in the chest with The Heart. He went into the dining hall, and then down into the court. He needed some fresh air.
As he walked to the doors, the guards held it open for him. He went past the floodlights, heading to the gazebo.
That was when he saw a guard rushing up the staircase through the bridge. He was yelling, shouting out names.
Corvo headed down along with two watch officers, and up close he saw that his clothes were tattered, like he had just been in a fight.
'Gather troops and search parties!' The guard yelled.
Corvo noticed how dirty and panicked he was, almost like a crazy person.
He was stopped by three guards at the entrance to the courtyard.
'Edward,' Corvo called one of the Senior watch officers. The Officer looked at him and lowered his head. 'Can you ask him what the fuss is all about? I don't want unnecessary panic around here.'
'Probably just a mad man,sir,' Edward answered.
Corvo watched the panicked guard curiously for a few seconds and slowly turned back to head to the gazebo again.
The guard pushed the city watch away and yelled, 'The Masked Felon has struck again!'