Deepest Dungeons

word count: 3897

Day One

         Shara never knew how it happened. One minute she was standing at the hearth warming her cold bones and then a sharp pain on the back of her head followed by blackness. She awoke in the deepest cell of the castle dungeon. Lying on the stone slab, her head pounded like tidal waves breaking on a rocky inlet. A lump the size of an eagle egg still oozed blood and her long blond hair was crusted with the crimson that must have flowed steady during her unconscious state.

         Taking a deep breath she was assailed with the stench of mold and decay. She coughed and cried out as the pain seemed to try and break through her skull. She closed her eyes to the agony and tried to overcome it. When able to open them again, she saw that the cell was illuminated by a single candle on a crude wooden table. A piece of paper rested on its surface demanding her attention.

I, Shara Paget nee Dunnval, being of sound mind and body, do bequeath all my possessions to my husband, Nicholas Paget. This declaration shall deny all challenges to my entire estate inclusive of, but not limited to, the following:

I. Castle Dunnval, all its interior contents, and the neighboring hamlets which support the dwelling and its governmental capacities.

II. The ships, docks, and warehouses within Corbet Hamlet on the Rosdian Sea.

III. All salt, iron, chromium, gold, silver, and amethyst mines in the hillside areas surrounding Dunnval castle.

Any omissions to this document shall be considered in error and subject to any decisions as executed by Nicholas Paget.

         A line was provided at the bottom for her signature and a quill and inkwell sat next to the paper awaiting her usage. Shara stood in stunned silence as she read and reread the document. The danger of her situation began to sink in and she nearly collapsed with the implications.

         The rattle of a slidebolt drifted through the small slot near the top of the cell door. Shara turned as Nicholas entered. He wore a look of smugness on his handsome face as he closed the opening behind him.

         "I see you have roused from your little slumber and found the key to your freedom," he said.

         "I see no key to freedom, you scoundrel," Shara spat. "That paper is as close to a death sentence as I have ever seen. Once my mark is upon it, my death is the only way to seal it."

         "You always were a little too clever for a female," he responded. The smile remained on his face causing a fear of the unknown to seep into Shara's psyche.

         "You have always underestimated me, Nicholas and once I am out of here you will see once again why you should not do so," she said. The anger in her voice gave no hint of the terror in her heart and she was rewarded with a flinch from her husband. The smile faltered, but returned after a moment's pause.

         "I think I have thought this one through, Shara. I have reported you missing to the castle guards and even now they scour the Dunnval lands looking for you. They will only find you when I have what I intend from you. That document will be signed and only then will your corpse be discovered."

         "I will never sign that, Nicholas. You can lock me up here for eternity and I will never cede my family's lands to you. I always knew you were ambitious and greedy. I just couldn't believe you would also stoop to petty banditry. Now that I see your true colors, it will mean nothing to me to destroy you."

         "Before you get too excited by that prospect, I have a little bit of incentive for you," he said. He opened the door a crack and Shara dashed for the opening. His backhand sent her reeling and she collapsed when the back of her knees hit the stone bench.

         Nicholas gestured and one of his personal guard entered the room with a struggling woman in his grasp. Shara gasped when she saw that the captive was her best friend, Linsa Mallory. Linsa turned her face up and stared at Shara for a moment and then a look of comprehension washed over her face.

         "Shara?" she gasped. "What has he done to you? What is the meaning of this?"

         "I am glad you asked that, Linsa," Nicholas answered before Shara could respond. "What happens to you is entirely dependent on your friend's actions. She can either sign the document on that table or witness your pain. It is that simple. I will give her some time to contemplate the situation."

         He walked out the door, followed closely by his vigilant guard. The latch closing was the only sound in the room for a long time as both women just stared at each other in shock.

Day Two

         The food was presented through a slim opening at the base of the cell door. Cold porridge and stiff bacon gave the impression of breakfast, although no sunlight showed itself into the deep recesses of their confinement to confirm the observation.

         The women ate readily, not knowing if this would be their last meal. The extent of Nicholas's plans for them was still unknown and that was the first of the real torture they would endure together.

         "So what is on that paper?" Linsa asked.

         "It is, in effect, my last will and testament. It cedes all my possessions to Nicholas. Once I sign it, he can dispose of me and leave my remains for the search parties to discover. Most likely it will seem I was accosted by highwaymen or wild animals. Either way, I will be dead and he will have more power than the likes of him deserves. I am so sorry that being my friend has stuck you in the middle of this."

         Tears streamed down Shara's face and Linsa closed the gap between them on the bench to embrace her.

         "I would not trade your friendship for anything. Not even my own life, Shara," she said in a comforting tone. "You cannot let him get away with it. No matter what happens, the fate of our people lies in your decisions. They are what is important."

         "I know, Linsa," Shara responded. "But I have no idea what he plans to do to make me place my mark. I have always known he was a cruel man, but he has now crossed over into an evil that lies beyond my understanding."

         "You must remain strong. Dunnval is the price of weakness. If he does this to us, imagine where his wickedness will go when dealing with people he doesn't even know," Linsa stated with force in her voice.

         "I will try to be strong, Linsa," Shara sobbed. "I just hope I can do it. I feel so helpless right now."

         "You have the upper hand, though. Remember that. Without your signature, his plan will fail."

Day Three

         The cell door opened with a crash, waking Shara and Linsa from their troubled slumbers. Nicholas and two guards entered and a quick gesture sent the guards to Linsa. They grabbed her roughly by her arms, forcing her to a standing position.

         Nicholas moved to stand in front of her and turned his head to Shara.

         "Have you made a decision, yet?" he asked her. The cold look on his face gave Shara a moment's pause.

         "I will not allow you to intimidate me into giving you what you do not deserve," she spat with her chin jutting out in obstinacy.

         Quick as a hare, his right fist shot out into Linsa's stomach. Shara heard both the force of the impact and the rush of lost air from Linsa's lungs. Her friend collapsed, held up only by the grasp of the guards.

         "That is not a good decision, Shara," he said. "I will give you another chance to give the correct response. Will you sign the document?"

         Shara sent Linsa a pleading look. Linsa returned it with a fierce determination and shot her leg out, connecting her foot with Nicholas's groin. He yelped in pain and fell to the ground.

         "Don't falter, friend. He has no real power. Look at him, writhing on the ground like a beaten dog. He is pathetic. You are the strength of Dunnval. He is the whipped mutt you throw scraps to," Linsa laughed at the crumpled form of Nicholas.

         Nicholas regained his feet and punched Linsa in the face. The sound of shattering cartilage and the sight of blood splattering on her cheeks caused Shara to scream. Nicholas turned to Shara and smiled. The grin was so malicious Shara recoiled as if struck, herself.

         "Chain her up," he ordered the guards, pointing at Linsa. "From here on out, you will bring food and feed the little Duchess here. Her friend will only be given water."

         The guards produced manacles and chained Linsa to the iron rings molded into the cell walls. Nicholas and the guards stormed out of the room, leaving the women to their sobs of pain and despair.

Day Ten

         Linsa was dying. Shara knew this to be true, but was unable to think of a way to aid her friend. Linsa's limp form hung from the manacles like a wet noodle thrown against a wall to stick.

         The days had dragged by and with each one a new horror presented itself. On one visit, Nicholas brought a whip. He lashed Linsa over and over, each time offering Shara the chance to sign the paper and end the torment. Shara remained steady in her refusal despite the desire to give up and do as he asked.

         Another visit he came armed with irons still burning hot from the forge. Shara maintained her strength through the stench of Linsa's burning flesh and the sound of her unholy screams.

         "Never sign the damned paper, Shara. Never release your control," the words still echoed in Shara's mind. If not for her friend's courage, Shara would surely have caved.

         The third visit, he cut off six of Linsa's fingers. Shara cried for hours after this episode, but had stayed true to her resolve. The dismembered digits remained on the floor at Linsa's feet. They were now black and dead as if drowned in the pool of blood they lay in. Shara's heart felt as they looked.

         Today had been the worst of them all. Linsa's body, weak and emaciated, hung from the shackles and she drifted in and out of consciousness. Despite Shara's attempts to clean her and dress her wounds, there just was not enough she could do. The deathly odor of infection permeated the cell as it wafted from the puss that oozed from her friend's wounds and mingled with the equally distasteful smell of Nicholas semen. Her once pretty face was pallid and scabbed from numerous shallow cuts that had been one of Nicholas's daily tortures.

         Today, though, Shara had actually begun to sign the paper. The first three letters were soaked into the parchment. Only the feeble protest of Linsa stopped her from finishing. Tears streamed down Shara's cheeks as she recalled her friend's plea.

         "I will never forgive you if you do this, Shara," she said through clenched teeth. The voice was husky and weak, but a strong emotion gave it credence. "This violation of my body is the worst he can do. He cannot go a step beyond this. I cannot forgive you if you allow my sacrifice to be futile."

Day Twelve

         Linsa died in the darkness, her last sound a feeble gasp of air. Shara cried for hours remembering their short life together. Childhood raids of the sweets in the castle kitchens; pony racing through the overgrown summer fields of Dunnval; long nights talking about the handsome boys who visited the keep during the many festivals and feasts; laughter and tears exchanged as only two true friends could share.

         Linsa's death saddened Shara and she felt as if a piece of her self had perished as well. Her heart ached as if drawn and quartered, but it did not weaken her. It made her stronger. Hate and anger replaced despair and grief. She felt invigorated instead of broken. It seemed to Shara as if Linsa's spirit infused her with new hope and resolve. She only needed a chance to act.

*          *          *          *

         Lucas and Desiree went deeper into the dungeons than they ever had before. Desiree was scared and yet felt safe with the comforting presence of her lover. Their trysts had been ongoing for nearly a year and each time Lucas found a new place for their passions to be sated. They loved the danger and adventure their mundane life as castle servants never could fulfill.

         "Come here, Desiree. Your prince commands you to enter the cell and receive your punishments for crimes against the crown," he said in a dramatically authoritive voice.

         Desiree giggled and walked into the cell. It was well lit with a pilfered lantern and a feast of breads and fruits lay on the table in the middle of the room.

         "My Lord, what on earth could I have done to deserve such harsh penalties?" she asked in mock astonishment.

         "You have cavorted with the seedy servants of the castle. Your crime is grave and justice awaits you," he intoned as if passing judgment. "Now sit and eat as it will be your final meal before I give you the punishment you so deserve."

         He made a lewd gesture that promised Desiree a punishment she would truly enjoy. This was her favorite game and Lucas had outdone himself by playing it out in the darkest place the dungeons offered.

         A primal scream of agony, rage, and vengeance startled the lovers out of their fantasy. Lucas quickly extinguished the lantern and the two embraced in terror.

         "What in hell was that?" Desiree panted.

         "I'm not sure," Lucas breathed. "It sounded close. I hope it is not a tortured spirit we have awoken in this place. Stay here while I check it out."

         "Don't leave me, Lucas. I'm so scared."

         "I'll be close by, my love. I need to find out what that was or we will be stuck in here huddled together like chickens awaiting the fox."

         "Hurry back," Desiree squeaked.

         Lucas drew his rapier from its sheath at his hip. He left the cell and walked down the hall, listening intently for any hint of danger. As he passed the next cell, he heard distinct sobs. Pressing his ear to the door, a nauseating odor assailed him. It had the smell of death and thoughts of his earlier assertion about ghosts crept into his mind. He rallied his courage and spoke.

         "Hello, who is in there?" he asked. His voice cracked with anxiety as he waited for an answer.

         "Who is that? Is this some new game you play, you monster?" a female voice said.

         For a second, Lucas thought the response was directed at him for his love games with Desiree, but reason took over and he shook off the guilt.

         "I'm not sure what you mean, but I assure you this is no game, ma'am. I didn't know anyone was held in these jails anymore. How long have you been here?" he asked.

         "I have been here for days or weeks, I'm not sure," she stated. "Who are you? Has Nicholas tired of his tortures and sends a new person to take his place?"

         "Nicholas?" asked Lucas in astonishment. "Do you mean Duke Paget? Is he your captor? I find that hard to believe. He has no time for such things what with his wife being missing and him battling his grief to lead the search parties around."

         "Open the door young man and I think you will come to understand just how wrong your perceptions of the duke are," the voice commanded. Beyond reason, Lucas obeyed.

         The door opened upon a scene so grotesque, Lucas could only stand, mouth agape, staring at the innards of the cell. Crimson splashes decorated the walls and a wash of filth attacked his nostrils. A battered and infected corpse hung against the far wall. He retched and vomited all over the floor. The skeletal figure within came to his aid. He looked up into the serene face that had become familiar to him over the years.

         "Duchess Shara?" he said, breathless.

         "Yes, it is me," she answered.

         "But how? The entire duchy is looking for you. How did you come to be here? And who is that corpse behind you?"

         "There will be time enough for all to know the truth. First, we must get out of here. You and I are in grave danger."

         A shuffling sound from behind Lucas stole Shara's attention. She stiffened and readied herself for hand to hand death. A pretty girl in a maid's outfit came into view and put her arm around Lucas.

         "This is Desiree. She came here with me," Lucas explained with a blush in his cheeks.

         Shara smiled as understanding dawned on her. To the young lovers, though, the smile seemed soulless. Some part of this woman was lost to this world and the vacated part of her was filled with a darkness as cold as the dungeon itself.

         "We must hurry. My husband could be here any moment. If he gets to us before we get to safety, your lives will be forfeit."

         The sound of armored footsteps echoed down the hall towards them.

         "Oh no. We may be too late. He comes," she whispered.

         Lucas was confused but knew that he needed to save the Duchess. This was like a tale from a bard at festival. He needed to be strong like the heroes always were. He grabbed the duchess by the hand and ushered her and Desiree back to the cell of the prepared feast. He shut the door quietly behind them while Shara extinguished the lantern.

         "She has escaped," shouted Nicholas. Shara could hear the panic in the voice.

         "We should search the area, sir. All the cells down here could be hiding places," a guard's voice said.

         "You are a fool if you think she would wait down here for us to find her," hissed Nicholas. "She knows her best chance lies in getting into the world's view. Hurry to the stairs and catch her. If she reaches the surface, we are finished."

         "Of course, sir. You know best."

         Lucas sat down with his back against the cell door; Shara and Desiree flattened against the wall to either side. Hurried footsteps moved past their hiding place, but one seemed to halt just outside the doorway. Metal slid as the guard opened the peephole to look inside. Deep breaths crept through the opening and tension rode the airstream into the cell. The three fugitives froze as if playing dead.

         "Baris, what is holding you up? We are running out of time," Nicholas called from the distance, his words inadvertently saving Shara and her newfound allies. Baris's retreating gait echoed softly down the hall, his presence fading with each step.

         "Now what do we do?" Shara asked. "We can't very well follow them out."

         "Fear not, Duchess," Lucas said with confidence. "I know these dungeons inside and out. There are many ways out. Leave it to me."







         They wandered the black halls of the dungeons for what seemed an eternity to Shara. Not daring to light the lantern and announce their presence, they felt their way in the dark like children lost in a nightmare. Shara and Desiree slipped many times on the slick mold which coated the floors. The jagged stone walls left them with shallow cuts on their arms and a sizeable gash on Desiree's forehead. The myriad of twists and turns disoriented Shara, but Lucas never seemed to hesitate.

         Lucas stopped in the darkness and the two women collided with him, making a cacophony of noise.

         "This way," a voice rang out in the darkness behind them. Their pursuers had heard the ruckus.

         "There is a ladder up," said Lucas. "Climb quickly. I will guard your backs."

         "You first, Desiree," Shara commanded.

         Desiree did not hesitate. She groped around until she found the metal rung and began her ascent. Shara quickly mounted the ladder behind her.

         A clatter below caused Shara to hesitate. The clang of steel on steel was followed by a low moan of pain and she reversed her course to assist her new young hero.

         "I am alright, Duchess," Lucas voice called out from below her. "Keep climbing. I am right behind you. There is a trapdoor at the top. Just locate the latch and slide it free."

         Shara breathed a sigh of relief at the sound of his voice. She did not take the time to ponder what happened on the floor below.

         Light shone down from above as Desiree pushed open the trap door. Shara sobbed in joy as it hit her face and burned her eyes. Desiree's form disappeared quickly from view.

         "You bitch. You have not escaped me, yet," Nicholas's voice chased her up the ladder. The words, dripping venom and hatred, spurred her on faster.

         Her foot slipped on a rung. For one brief instance, she was falling. She reached out in desperation and managed to grasp another rung before plunging to her death. Shara hovered on the brink by one hand. She could feel her grip slipping and she began to laugh at the irony. Just steps away from freedom and justice and I will die because of a clumsy accident, she thought.

         Strong arms embraced her and righted her on the ladder.

         "I got you, Duchess. Climb fast, he is not far behind," Lucas voice reassured her.

         She climbed with renewed vigor and reached the opening. Rough hands from above pulled her violently through.

         "Now what do we have here?" a harsh voice boomed. "Thought you could escape the dungeons did ya?"

*          *          *

         The three hung from the crucifixes, bodies beaten and bruised. Deep moans of pain and misery still emanated from them. The crowd threw stones and rotted produce at them. They cursed and insulted the three condemned figures.

         Below the condemned, etched stones declared their crimes and soiled their names. The epitaths would forever remain where they now sat. The doomed soul in the center merited the largest stone effigy. Upon it read the following:

Here lies the dust of evil. Tried and convicted by the peoples of Dunnval Duchy for high treason, rape, torture, and banditry, may his black soul forever burn. Let the name of Nicholas Paget be always known as anathema to the goodness of our world.

         Shara stood at the back of the crowd flanked by her personal guards. A tear streaked down her face as she watched the justice of the people being meted out to her husband. Her satisfaction was edged with sadness of the cost. Linsa would always be known as a hero to the duchy, but the people would never know just how truly her sacrifice had saved them.

         Nicholas turned his head towards her and a silent plea for mercy shone in his eyes. Shara just smiled, turned, and walked away.