Dirt (The Dirt Trilogy) (9 page)

My hands are swollen, red and burning with pain. Infection
appears to be setting in. My female security guard roughed me up
pretty bad after I tried to escape and now Straif places Phagos and
Duir at my door. I’m out of ideas. Maybe dying is the best thing
after all. I think of Dad and how he has always been there for me
and how I’ve always been there for him. Every art contest, every
skinned knee. What will he do without me? How will he make it

Thoughts of him without me race through my mind. He
’s
already lost Nuin. If something happens to me that will be the end
of him. Then I think of Rowen, the only thing finally right in my
life. I found what I want and whom I want. I’m not going to give
that up.

I
’ve got to get out of this cell. I have one more day until I’m to
be killed. My extremities are heavy. In fact, when I look down, I
can’t see one of my legs. I can feel it, but I can’t see it. Am I losing
my mind? What’s happening to me? I need my medication.

After a few moments of hallucinatory activity I see my leg
again, my entire leg. I pull from my gut every bit of energy I have
and began to scream, yelling at the top of my lungs hoping to
provoke some attention. If I can get someone to open the door of
my cage, I might have a chance to run or something, a small
chance, any chance.

Duir
’s huge silhouette in a curtain of darkness.
“Let me out! Let me out! Let me out!” I continue snubbing
constant orders from both guards to be quiet. I’m like the annoying
kid in the back seat of a car on a long distance trip. They try to
ignore me, but I make it impossible. As I bang on the bars, I
continue to shriek. I’m weaker with each and every strike of my
hand to the metal rods enclosing me. Attempting to be stoic with
indifference, they really can’t do anything to me at this point. Straif
wants me in one piece and I’m looking pretty bad.
“Shut it up, Secret!” Phagos yells.
“Get me out of here!” My extremely heavy limbs continue to
fade in and out of view. Am I losing my mind or am I going blind?
My eyes are playing tricks on me. I need that nasty yellow medicine
I’ve taken all of my life. What I wouldn’t give to have it now. I
can’t yell anymore. I can’t bang on the bars any more. The weight
of my own limbs is more than I can handle.
I hear Straif’s voice coming down the stairwell as it bounces
off the rocky walls. “What’s all of the noise, my dear? I heard the
commotion and wanted to make sure things were still in order.” His
voice is full of wickedness. The words slide off his tongue like a
snake sniffing out his next meal.
With a stern look, Straif glances over at the guard standing
attentively in front of my cage whose eyes are wide open.
“Make sure she doesn’t lose any more blood. We need every
drop. I want her in good shape for tomorrow. Do you understand?”
His face is about inch away from the guard speaking in a hushed
tone. He gawks at me pathetically through the bars. “This will all be
over soon enough, my dear.” His words make my skin crawl.
Turning to Phagos he demands, “Keep her alive.”
The massive shadow bows at the waist. “Yes, your lordship.”
As Straif strides out of the room and back up the stairwell, he
stops at my homework. He rips them off the wall, and tosses them
on the ground in front of my cell.
“We won’t need these anymore.”
I see a painted image of myself sitting in the corner of my cell,
bloody and broken. It’s like looking into a mirror I wish would
crack to pieces. I don’t need a reminder of my predicament.
Falling asleep seems impossible, knowing what tomorrow will
bring. I hope it won’t be painful and tortuous, but I know better.
I’m too weak to fight. I can barely walk and Straif is going to do
whatever he wishes. He’s apparently been planning this for a long
time, probably all of my life. I guess I was born for this. Ultimately,
I’m the destroyer. My life will give evil its power. If I was strong
enough, I would end it myself before they could have me. Before
they can ki..ki…. I’m unable to complete the thought. I try to keep
my eyes open until the burden of my eyelids is too heavy and I give
in.

I awaken to cheers ringing throughout the cave. Everyone is
thrilled about the gift they are about to receive.
In my weakened state the guards take me from my cell. “It’s
time,” he tells me.
It takes two of them to bring me to my feet. “Walk!” the short
one bellows.
I stumble a bit. Knowing what is about to happen makes it
difficult to move. I tremble in fear. I think I’m more terrified of the
agony than the dying part.
Walking through the hallway, I look at the paintings on the
walls and wonder how the hearts of these evil beings can hold the
appreciation for the splendor of these masterpieces and still have
room for malice. As I’m escorted through the main corridor, the
cheers and yelling numbs my ears.
I
wonder
if my
mother knew
I’d
one
day
be
in this
predicament. I guess she did. As we pass the dining hall, I take
notice of tables with beautiful ornate settings and banners adorning
the room in gold and red. The imps are preparing for a feast they’ll
never forget. They gawk, each with a smirk on their face.
We enter the great hall, the floor a shining sea of blackness. I
don’t look down, avoiding my reflection. Straif stands at the front
of the room with six men behind him all with black robes dragging
the floor. Their slick blond hair is pulled tightly back as each strand
strains to stay in place. They look like a group of older sextuplets
who were spawned from the devil. Phagos, Duir and Bran are
among them. Each one expressionless as if they had been warned to
keep any excitement to themselves. Straif, on the other hand, is
struggling with his enthusiasm, his intensity is apparent. His green
eyes are open beyond normality. I don’t think he is aware of his
huge grin.
Chills run up the back of my neck and ice down my spine. I’m
almost paralyzed when I see the executioner’s table in the middle of
the room; the leather straps that will hold me in place and keep me
from running scare me more than anything. Death row, this is what
it feels like. I think I’m going to pass out which would probably be
the best thing that could happen. I’m unable to walk up to the table
so they have to drag me.
“Come on. Move it.”
But how can I? How do you walk when you know you’re about
to die? They pick me up and throw me onto the table holding me
down as I struggle.
“Be careful, I don’t want to break her.” Straif’s words hiss
across his lips. He reaches out his hands as if I’m about to crumble.
I fight as the straps are fastened around my ankles and wrists. I’m
not going anywhere, but it seems unnatural for me to simply lie
here without a fight.
“Let me go!” I yell.
“Oh, now we can’t do that. You’ll miss your party, Ashe. And
we’ve been planning it for such a long time.” Straif raises his hand
and motions the guards away as he walks slowly around the table
swallowing his spit as he examines me with his piercing eyes. The
guards join the others on the podium, quietly and reverently.
“Today is the day we have all been waiting for! The day of
immortality! The day to end all days!” Straif shouts. I can hear the
voices of the masses echo throughout the cave vibrating the walls. I
guess those allowed to watch were by invitation only and have to
maintain decorum. He allows the cheering to go on for a few
moments as I struggle with the leather straps in vain.
“Silence!” he barks and all sound ceases; not a movement, not
a breath of air. I wish he would get it over with. The waiting is
torture. Is he about to do it?
“Just do it!” I demand.
“Very well, as you wish, my dear. As they say in your world,
happy birthday, my dear Ashe, happy birthday.”
He
pulls
out a
five-inch blade, shining
and
polished to
perfection. I can see every reflection that falls on it. He slits my
wrist ever so slowly carving the flesh enough to have a steady
stream of blood. The blade slides across my flesh for about two
inches as he
holds
a
glass under my
arm. I
scream
out in
excruciating pain; a pain that begs for instant death.
“What are you doing? Please, go ahead with it!” I plead. He’s
going to torture me and make me live through my own death.
“This may take a while my dear,” he whispers with excitement
as he watches my bright crimson blood drizzle into the crystal
glass. I begin to feel dizzy and I hope I’ll pass out soon. I close my
eyes and try to picture my life before Durt, life with my father, and
what would have been with Rowen. The room begins to spin as I
become lightheaded. I see my father holding my hand as we walk
through the
doorway
the
first day
of
school. Eating supper.
Laughing in the basement lab.
A strange feeling overcomes my right leg and barely arouse
from my hallucinatory daydream. I tussle lifting my head from the
table and notice below the knee, my right leg is a vaporized shadow
of itself. It’s fading away. Did they cut it off? I didn’t feel a thing
.
I
bend my right knee and suddenly my leg reappears and it’s no
longer strapped in. I don’t think anyone noticed. Straif stands on
my right side facing me with his glowing green eyes glued to the
glass of warm red blood. My blood.
I reach deep down finding strength I didn’t know I had and
somehow I’m able to raise my free leg up and with as much
strength as I can find, I kick him in the back of the head. He drops
the glass and shatters as it hits the floor. His immortality splatters
across the ebony.
He raises his opened hand over his head preparing to hit me.
“Why you little bi…” When I see someone swing through the air,
whisking Straif away by his raised arm, throwing him into one of
the giant pillars at the front of the room. Metal clashes and I see
him, Rowen, and the other sentries. I knew he would come for me.
My blood drips steadily on the floor as I start to slip into
unconsciousness. Rowen runs to my side ripping off his white tshirt. He wraps my bleeding wrist tightly with the white cloth and
the bloodletting slows. His brethren fight The Dark Thorn swordto-sword, three on one.
Beyond the walls of the grand room, the crowd screams in
panic and bedlam can be heard beyond the doorway as imps screech
in anticipation. The room rattles as the creatures try to force entry to
engage the battle ensuring my death.
“Hang on, Ashe. We’ve got you,” Rowen says. His eyes still
deep blue and loving me with their gaze. Pulling out a knife, he cuts
the three remaining leather straps and lifts me off the table of death.
He moves fast or maybe that’s the room spinning around. He hands
me over to Ruis, who whisks me to the side protecting me from the
mayhem.
“Take her out of here.”
“What are you doing? Don’t leave me. You can’t leave me.”
“You will be in good hands. I have some unfinished business,”
he says softly.
I pan the room. Blades move back and forth like glitter in the
air with lifeless bodies scattered about. Black robes blend into the
ebony floor, but Straif is nowhere to be found. Alder is on the
platform engaging Bran. With each jab, Alder is quick to the move.
Bran’s anger seethes, building into frustration as hatred overcomes
him. Suddenly, Alder thrusts his sword into the professor’s side and
he rests on the floor, motionless, dead with his smoldering green
eyes open. The glow begins to fade and Alder looks back at us
gesturing with a nod for us to leave.
“Happy birthday to me,” I mumble under my breath.
“What?” Ruis asks.
“Nothing,” I answer. The door to the room is barred and those
on the other side beat on it trying to get it in.
“Where’s Rowen? I don’t see him. Where’s Rowen? Rowen?”
I ask with panic.
Coll is engaged with Phagos and Duir while the rest of the
thorn retreated following their coward leader. Phagos pins Coll up
against one of the giant pillars with his sword about to strike. Alder
jumps in between the two giving Coll a chance to break free and
he’s one on one with Duir, while Alder makes mincemeat of
Phagos. He’s alive, but battered and bloody. Phagos struggles for
retreat as he limps away.
“Duir, let’s go.”
Duir backs away from Alder and the two vermin leave the
room. All the members of The Dark Thorn are gone, but those on
the other side are about to break through. A sharp high-pitched
squeal pierces the air and splinters of wood fly across the room as
imps begin dismantling the door. Hundreds of them move towards
us like a swarm of roaches with sharp teeth gnashing. They’re
crazed with anger and hunger.
“Run!” Alder yells.
“We can’t leave without Rowen,” I insist.
“He’s gone to find Straif. Heknows what he’s doing.” Ruis
throws a small thin thread directly over our heads hooking the
ceiling and we go straight up and out of a window. The scaly gray
imps bombard the room and are at our heels as we rise towards the
room’s ceiling. Alder and Coll are right behind us with the same
move. As we rush down the mountain side, the imps squeal pouring
out of the window crawling viscously over each other like roaches.
The sentries move fast and never look back, but I do. Saliva
drools from the imp’s mouths. They slow cautiously then retreat
into their cave, except for one. He runs until his eyes explode.
Blood and flesh spew from his face and a horrible din bursts from
his
mouth.
Eventually,
he
bolts
into
a
rock
and
into
unconsciousness.
We arrive in the valley underneath a massive tree. “What
happened back there? What happened to that creature?” I ask.
“Imps don’t do well out here. They dwell in caves. Their eyes
will explode if they are exposed to sunlight.”
“Where’s Rowen? Aren’t you supposed to protect one another?
How could you leave him there?” I yell at Alder. I imagine what
might happen to Rowen with those evil things running around in
there.
“Calm down, Ashe. He’s fine.” He reacts without alarm.
“How do you know?” I’m confused by his calmness, his lack
of concern.
“We are sentries. It’s our business to know what’s going on
within the brethren.”
Alder peers at me as
if I’m
guilty
of
something.I realize it’s time to keep my mouth shut.
While the winged horses graze, the moment is quiet. The
orange and pink hues of the setting sun comfort me as I sit under
the colossal branches. Alder and Coll give me snide glances every
once in a while, making me uncomfortable.
“He’ll be back. He knows what he’s doing. Sit and rest. I’m
Ruis by the way,” he says bringing me a gourd of water. I drink
spilling liquid out from the edges and down my neck. “Slow down
a minute. You’ll choke,” he attempts to take the gourd. My hands
are glued around it. “Okay, but slow down,” he responds when he
realizes I’m not giving it up.“Want something to eat?” He hands
me some bread and an apple. Like a barbarian, I rip the bread apart.
Moments earlier, I was being sacrificed. Now, here I’m eating,
breathing, waiting for Rowen, and glad to be alive.
The beauty in front of me is deceptive, knowing the battle
underground lingers. I sit quietly and wait, but my eyes can wait no
longer. Like curtains on a stage at the end of a performance, they
shut tightly hiding secrets behind them.