[2] Ephemeral - Edmund Pevensie

Chapter 7: Mellifluous

CHAPTER 6

Smashing and banging on the metal grate, Pommella and Caspian tried their best to get them out of the mess, while Edmund lay unconscious on a empty sack of rice. They were stuck in a dungeon, where they might be left to rot, Lucy and Eustace were being sold as slaves, and they had no chance of escape. She kept kicking the metal grate, banging on it with her fist, but there was no use; instead, she was only creating long bruises on her exposed skin, tears flowing from her eyes. 

"HELP!" she shouted desperately, her voice cracking as the tears left her eyes. "HELP! Help!  Help!" her voice grew smaller and smaller, until she collapsed to the ground, crying freely onto the dusty floors of the dungeon.

The loud banging of metal then awoken Edmund, who looked perplexed at the sight of the dungeon. Rubbing his eyes, turning them bloodshot, soon he saw Pommella lay helpless on the ground, crying her eyes out.

"You all right?" said Caspian to Edmund, who was sitting up, rubbing his neck.

"Yeah. How're you, Po—"

"SHHHHHH!" Pommella shushed everyone. There were loud clamoring sounds coming from under the dungeon.

Taking Edmund's hand, Pommella rushed over to the metal grate, which had small openings, so she could hear what was going on. It sounded very frightening, shrieks and squeals and screams of fright coming from some five people. Scary it was, still, it intrigued Pommella. 

"—WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER?" shrieked a woman's voice, sounding raged.

"No!" insisted a man's voice, sounding much like who had chained Edmund up. "It was him E—"

"DON'T SAY MY NAME!" the woman screamed. "TELL ME WHAT YOU DID TO HER!"

"He- him," the same man's voice stammered. "He did it!"

"DID WHAT EXACTLY?" There was a deadly silence. "ANSWER ME, YOU MORON! WHAT DID YOU DO?!" 

There was a loud kicking and bone-cracking sound, then the sound of a heavy thing thudding on the floor downstairs. Then there were sounds of men crying and screaming and yelping. Pommella winced at the sound; what was so frightening that made those ruthless men cry? A strangled yelp and cry for help came from one of the men. Then, another. Another. Another. One other, this time a torturous cry. Then, silence.

"Thank you," said the woman. Something in her voice was so familiar to Pommella like she had heard it a lifetime ago. Her voice was mellifluous, much different from her screams, which were frightening and demanding, and another kick sounded from downstairs. 

Pommella's thoughts began to wander. The woman's voice sounded so familiar, as though she had heard it in a different lifetime. It sounded so calm, so soothing, so. . . motherly.

The sounds of footsteps grew louder and louder, until they slowly faded away, farther with each step taken. Soon, there was no other sound than the grunting of a man, somewhere from deep inside the cellar where they were being held captive. All heads turned to the right, where a dark shadow was cast over something — or someone.  

"Who's there?" asked Edmund, sounding horrified. 

"Nobody," the whoever replied grimly. "Just a voice. . . in my head."

Intrigued, Caspian steadily approached whoever in the shadows, being cautious at each step, his hand seizing his sword's handle. Pommella, whose hand was still intertwined with Edmund's, squeezed his hand out of fear.

Once closer, an old man emerged from the shadows, looking confused and frightened all at the same time. His old eyes seemed tired, and although his face was covered by his extraordinarily long beard, Pommella was sure aged wrinkles had formed on his grey complexion.