The Widow Maker

V

The flickering candle at the centre of the room danced around sporadically returning Sir Gervais from the past to the present, but as the fireplace crackled to life, his eyes returned to the fearful Captain as his paled face glared towards him.

Barely moving, the Captain knew that Sir Gervais could and would strike like an angry serpent from the shadows, instead, he listened intently as the Widow Maker's bitter story was spun.

The fire reflected tirelessly on Sir Gervais' pupils, but the hatred that filled his eyes seemed to stifle the light the flames produced.

Anger flushed over the Captain as he glanced towards his sword that he had foolishly left at the wooden door. Fear embraced him as he heard the small rustle from Sir Gervais as he repositioned after every glance. The dagger that was placed in his boot appeared to press more strongly against his ankle, yet the sword that the Widow Maker tightly gripped deterred the Captain from reaching for it.

It was foolish to think that anything but death would embrace the Captain this night, yet, perhaps Sir Gervais would make a small lapse in judgment.

"I was just following orders, you must understand that." the Captain eventually whimpered.

There was a small sigh from the corner of the room. "We're you instructed to have my wife raped, or my daughter's throats slit?"

The Captain was unnerved by the calmness in Sir Gervais' voice. With the incident happening over a winter ago, it appears that Sir Gervais had had plenty of time to process the events. "No my lord, my men were out of control."

"Do not take me for a fool, Captain. I am aware of the men you chose and their reputations of bloodlust and depravities. You chose them specifically for the task of killing me, by any means necessary."

The Captain took a forced hard swallow. He could not argue against the truth. "And my men and their families." he eventually asked.

He could sense the menacing smile that painted itself on the Widow Maker's lips. "The families have been moved away from Isovine, they won't be returning. As for your men," he chuckled as the thought of their fate returned to him, "once I had recovered from the twenty or so stabs they inflicted on me, I took it upon myself to locate them, ship them off to Rouelle and boil them alive." There was a shuffle as Sir Gervais repositioned himself "Minus a few body parts."

With his hand visibly shaking, the Captain tried to pour himself another drink aware that the majority of its contents were splashing on the wooden table.

Carefully standing up, Sir Gervais took the drink from his hand and calmly and confidently poured it into the Captain's tankard. Despite the splash of the golden honey-smelling nectar entering the cup blissfully, the stare from the Widow Maker, which never deviated for a moment, put him seriously on edge.

Placing the cup carefully on the table, Sir Gervais headed over to the fireplace. It crackled wildly as he warmed his hands beside it. As his cloak opened and the bright flames flickered dully against his leather armour, the Captain gained a glimpse of the large array of weaponry that sat on his personage. Swords, knives, miniature crossbows and other exotic weapons that the Captain did not recognise littered him like an angel of death.

"Are you... Are you going to kill me?" the Captain's voice finally broke.

"Absolutely," like a wild cat, Sir Gervais' eyes did not stray from his target. Despite all the anger that was pent up inside him, however, he somehow controlled his rage, and his demeanour continued to remain calm. "The question is, how will you die. Quickly, or in agony."

The Captain looked towards his sword again, calculating the odds of reaching it before the Widow Maker could react. Surely, now that his position had altered, the Captian's chances had increased. "What must I do?"

"Tell me how many guards surround Nimue. And don't lie to me, I will know."

Once again, the Captain studied his surroundings, analysing the situation carefully. He could reach his sword, and while he was no match for the superior swordsmanship of his counterpart, the noise of the fight would encourage others to investigate. If he were to die, he would die a hero, attempting to rid the empire of one of its known menaces.

Lunging from his chair, the Captain quickly ran around the side of the table but before he could gain any momentum, Sir Gervais had expertly embraced him and plunged a small sharp pinprick deep into his neck.

The Captain's blood felt like it was on fire as if lava was coursing through his veins. He tried to move but his muscles felt like stone, refusing to perform even the simplest of tasks. Clattering to the floor he wanted to scream in agony, but all that exited was a pitiful whimper.

"In agony then?" Sir Gervais responded as he knelt beside him, watching the intense fear that embraced his agony-stricken eyes. "What you are experiencing is a mixture of manticore and harpy venom, a little concoction of my own which renders the target virtually helpless and in constant anguish."

As the Captain writhed around in pain, he watched as the veins around his body turned a dark shade of purple. Still, with the light so dim and his senses starting to be overwhelmed, he couldn't quite comprehend the horrible disfigurement he was experiencing. As time went on, though, he didn't care; the pain was becoming unbearable.

Sir Gervais knelt and slid the knife from the Captain's boot. He studied it as he stood and then watched his prisoner as he started to squirm to find a comfortable position. "Tell me how many guards protect Nimue and I shall make your end swift. Fail to do so and you'll endure another ten minutes of this pain before your heart will eventually explode. And to give you perspective, we have only reached the thirty-second mark."

The Captain whimpered like a wounded animal. He was barely holding his mind together after this time, to endure for so long would break his body, mind and soul.

He was briefly conflicted, to give away that classified information would be treason in his mind. Any small amount of dignity he had would be gone.

Perhaps there was a chance someone would visit him and rescue him from his torment, ending the suffering before Sir Gervais could gain the information he sought.

As if reading his thoughts, Sir Gervais commented flippantly "If you believe that someone may happen to drop by, I've been studying you and your men for weeks. No one is coming."

'Fuck dignity' thought the Captain "Ten guards. Please end this," he begged through his teeth.

Sir Gervais studied the dying man and looked carefully to tell whether the words he spoke were of truth. They certainly seemed accurate. Smiling, he knelt and placed the knife to the Captain's throat. Leaning down, the Captain could feel his killer's warm breath against his ear.

A chill of fear caused his skin to bubble while the excruciating heat throughout his body seemed to only increase in potency.

Whispering in the Captain's ear, Sir Gervais said with an unnerving calmness "I will give you the same mercy as you and your men bestowed on my wife, my beautiful Arianna. Ten minutes was nothing compared to the agony she was put through in her final hours on this earth. You will suffer for your choices and endure hell on earth before visiting it permanently."

The shock and fear in the Captain's now bloodshot eyes was telling. He couldn't take this pain anymore and needed immediate release, but as Sir Gervais stood to his feet and took steps away from him, he tried to scream for mercy.

Each word of apology and request for forgiveness came out as an incoherent mumble and as he tried to focus on the eyes of the former spymaster of Isovine, he could see a complete lack of remorse.

As Sir Gervais turned away from the dying Captain, there was no pity; simply just vengeance and retribution. No words or actions would change the Captian's fate, he would die this black night in agony for his part in the rape and death of Lady Arianna, wife to Sir Gervais Vanderbilt.