The Bride of the Immortal (30 page)

Adrijan’s reply made her frown.

He had never had the chance to find out if they had been successful and it reminded him that he wasn’t particularly proud of his attempt to disregard his own safety for the benefit of their escape. It had seemed heroic to him back then and the only way to atone for his long-lasting negligence but in the end it had just taught him, that even though he had felt sorry for the victims, he hadn’t really understood their suffering. If he had, he would have desperately looked for a way to save his own skin as well. Reminiscing, he almost forgot that he had a listener, who was waiting for him to continue.

“I was caught,” he explained. “Not red-handed but eventually they were able to trace the disappearance of the accused back to me.”

“A pity they didn’t put the blame on the devil this time,” Mairin noted.

A grim smile stole across Adrijan’s face.

“Indeed. After all, the attempt to free the alleged sorcerers eventually forced me to join their ranks. At first I found myself once again locked into my cell and being the fool I was I thought they might leave it at that. Unfortunately they had remembered the business with the blanket and decided not to let me off the hook that easily. Knowing that a confession would only pave the way for the stake, I denied their accusation to be in league with the devil and mentally prepared for torture.”

Mairin was listening closely and he realised that even though it hadn’t been easy to share this much with her, it would be yet more difficult to continue.

“Hm. Why did you choose torture?” she asked. “Haven’t you just told me, that there was no way out?”

Sadly the girl had hit the nail on the head. Hadn’t it been exactly those thoughts that had come to his mind after being caught?

“It’s true, but I guess it lies in our nature to try to postpone the inevitable. As you can see I’m still alive and concerning my own survival it was the right choice.”

Maybe Vivian had preferred if he had taken the short way out.

“So how did you do it?”

Even though he was tempted to skip the next part of his memory, he decided against it.

“I wasn’t able to escape. At least I’m not certain you could call it ‘escape’. But we’ll get to that eventually.”

Mairin slightly inclined her head. It was seemingly something she often did in certain situations, and Adrijan was wondering what was on her mind.

“They came to my room threatening me with torture. I had reckoned that, so I bravely – or foolishly – held fast to my declaration of innocence and when they realised that there was no point in verbal threats, they decided to put them into action.”

His charming audience was still focusing on his words but this time Mairin didn’t dare to ask any questions. She had assumed a rigid body posture that made her uneasiness obvious.

“It seems that they weren’t keen on seeing
me
naked. I was allowed to keep my clothes on during most of the... procedures.”

It was meant to be a joke but Mairin didn’t ease up in the least. Was it better to keep the worst to himself after all?

“Should I skip that part?”

Mairin shook her head.

“I want to know you and I want to know what turned you into the man you are today. Even if your memories aren’t like a fairy tale and more horrid than the diary entries that describe Jonathan Hawker’s despair in the nights spent in Count Dracula’s lair, I want to hear them.”

She seemed to notice that he was surprised about her outburst and embarrassed she tried to avoid his gaze, meekly adding: “That is... if you want to share them with me.”

Adrijan suppressed the silly smile that was about to appear on his face. He shouldn’t be happy about a reason to revive his past or about something as small as a reference to a book he had recommended.

 “Well... first they showed me what I had to expect.”

His mood reverted abruptly with the memory of the shackles that tied him to the wooden chair. He almost felt the hardness of the material and the cold that had crept into his bones the moment realisation set in – but Mairin couldn’t read his thoughts and he forced himself to put them into words.

“I was led into one of the torture chambers. The ones who had taken me there left, and others, who would continue, fastened me to a chair. My feet were bound by shackles and my arms tied to the armrest so I couldn’t move.”

Panic had taken hold of him the moment the door had been closed. It had been like a switch, turning off every last bit of hope he had had to escape. He struggled and tried to break free, but...

“There was no possibility of escape – even the chair was attached to the ground.”

Sweat had started to trickle over his skin, yet he felt cold as ice and shivers went down his spine. He had a lump in his throat and his guts were churning.

‘Look at the poor bastard. Haven’t even started and he’s almost wetting his pants!

Won’t you tell us your name, lad?’

Was it possible to remember a person’s voice over hundreds of years?

“I panicked. They asked me for my name, yet at that moment to me even this simple task was like pronouncing a word in a foreign, never before heard language.”

‘Winther... my name is Winther,’ he finally managed to reply.

‘Look here, Winther. Do you know what this is? We’ll put it around your scrawny legs and tighten the screws. By doing this, the spikes will be drilled into your flesh and – God knows – something else might happen if we tighten them too much. Something like this.’

The man demonstrated his toy on an animal bone. As it cracked, it created a dreadful crunching sound. It was thoroughly unpleasant, triggering pain in his legs as if the leg screws had already been applied.

“I answered them and they started explaining their tools to me. That was already sufficient to make me feel the pain they threatened to inflict. What a hero I was...”

Adrijan was surprised by his own choice of words. Why had he avoided to tell her his real name? It certainly reminded him of so many things...

More tools followed, eliciting yet more made-up pain. It was curious how imaginative one’s own body could be. His fingers had turned stiff and cold, and he had lost control over his breathing. In-Out. In-Out. In-Out. Too fast, too heavily. Why wasn’t he able to draw breath? He was suffocating!

Adrijan wasn’t able to suppress a cough and cleared his throat. Before continuing he took a deep breath.

“Back at Sunflower Garden you have probably experienced what it’s like to be committed to panic. You feel the adrenaline rush – you’re given all that energy to fight, yet bound like I was there was nothing I could do. With horror I realised that I was at the mercy of maniacs.”

A bucket of water was emptied over his head, shocking him and drawing his attention to his tormentors.

‘Winther, dear boy, we’re not done with you yet!’

His heart was going to jump out of his chest. How much harder could it possibly beat?

“There was still more to come. It was the first day, so they weren’t actually planning on doing much to me. It was all about showing me the possibilities. I knew that, but even so my own doubts nearly drove me insane. Wasn’t it possible that they’d make an exception after all? With the help of some cold water, they drew my attention. When they were certain that I was listening again, one opened the door and they stepped outside. I could hear them enter another chamber and I was wondering if I had made it through the ordeal. Then I heard them ask the occupant of the adjacent chamber that odious question in a purposely loud voice:”

‘Do you wish to confess?
’

He couldn’t hear the answer but its content was revealed to him in the scream that followed. Were they going to come back to do the same to him? The outcries continued, a yell, a piercing shriek but instead of feeling worried he felt relief. As long as they were busy with the accused, they couldn’t torture him.

No, it was wrong to feel that way. Wasn’t he here because he had decided to put the lives of others above his own?

“Adrijan? What did they ask?”

Mairin’s inquiry made him realise that he hadn’t revealed the content of the question to her.

“They asked if the woman wanted to confess and when she didn’t, the tormentors continued with the torture. I heard the screams and feared for the worst. I’m ashamed to admit it, but I was more worried about my own skin than about the other person’s well-being.”

There. He had admitted it. By now she had to be thinking ill of him and there was still more to come.

The noise stopped and soon after they stepped into his chamber. ‘Well, Winther, it seems that your companion won’t say anymore today. Interestingly though, she told us that your name sounded familiar. Can that be coincidence?’

He saw the blood on their hands and his world turned black as ink.

How pathetic he had been…

“They returned with proof of their torture and I fainted. When I came to, I was surrounded by darkness.”

Cold. It was cold. He couldn’t see where he was, where they had put him. Was he still alive? He had to be. His body was hurting all over and it took him some effort to stand on his feet. He hadn’t been lying on the floor, it was more like he had been stuck. He carefully reached out his hands, trying to make up for his missing eyesight. Long before he could fully extend his arms he hit the wall on both sides and the palms of his hands told him of its wet and slippery surface. Slowly he let his fingers run over the stone wall, making out the almost non-existent gaps between them. His feet were wet, his habit damp and the air was heavy with the stench of excrement.

“They had let me down into the old, dried-up well of the monastery. The pain I felt substantiated my assumption that they hadn’t been very gentle, but luckily I hadn’t suffered any fractures. From the smell I could easily tell that I wasn’t the first person to be put there and the fact that I wasn’t able to touch any bones reassured me that they would sooner or later get me out again. I was hoping that I would still be alive then.

For a short time I called for help but nobody answered.”

It was hard to tell which was the worst, the cold, the stench or the narrowness that constricted him. Even though his body hurt all over he was unable to sit and rest. Panic had to be suppressed at all cost.

“There wasn’t enough room to make myself comfortable and nothing to protect me from the cold. My own clothes were thin, torn and on top of it damp. My bare feet just added to it. Needless to say that I had to... well... there was no toilet either.”

He despised the humiliation, but he had no choice if he didn’t want to wet himself. Time passed, how much he didn’t know, but it passed so slowly. Soon enough he had to struggle to stay awake. The cold stone wall was used as a backrest – the ‘opposite’ site of course, if it could be called that in this small hellhole – yet he didn’t find repose. Countless times he startled just after dozing off, finding himself caught in a nightmare. Then he noticed that he wasn’t alone. Spindly legs travelled over his skin, not caring who he was or why he was there.

“I spent the night awake, dozing off from time to time. My only companions were spiders and insects who resided in the unused well and their presence made me cherish the absolute darkness. If you’re locked into a narrow space with no way out, it’s better not to know what creeps about.”

Mairin moaned in disgust even though he was trying so hard to make it sound less unpleasant.

Some of them did more than just walk over him but he told himself that their company was preferable to the one of snakes or rats.

When the sun rose, the opening of the well delivered the light of a new day to him, and along with it the promise of yet more pain.

“They came to me not long after sunrise and brought a bucket of water. My lips were dry and I thirstily awaited its arrival at the ground. I took a sip as soon as it was in reach and before I could finish taking another they started pulling it up again. Without having said a word they left and once again I was alone.

I spent another day in solitude but even though it was everything else than pleasant it was probably better than enduring a day in the torture chamber. I had expected them to ask me for a confession and after they had left, I was glad they hadn’t. What if they had asked and I had given in? I was getting closer and closer to doing everything just to get out of the well.

Night came and went, and the following morning I was reaching not only my physical limits.”

He couldn’t move away from his own filth, he couldn’t sleep, he couldn’t eat, he couldn’t drink and he was surely unable to keep his mind occupied any longer. If he had at least been able to die... When desperation mercilessly overwhelmed him, one of the tormentors roped down to fetch him.

“Just in time they came to get me and took me to the abbot.

Hmm. There is something I have to explain to you before I can continue with my story. Around the same time I decided to free some of the accused, Vivian won the struggle for the throne. After his father had passed away, the queen had attempted to usurp his power but in the end Vivian had emerged successful.