Valknut

CHAPTER|21 Escaping Darkness

Sir Brian slowly descended the several stairs that led to the bowels of the castle. With each winding corner, the awful stench became stronger and his nose and gut needed time to adjust to the smell. The dungeons housed not just the prisons but also the torture chambers – frequented mostly by the Dark Knight. No one else dared to venture near the torture chambers. That right was solely the Dark Knight’s. Even if that right was extended to others, no one wanted anything to do with that part of the castle. What he did within those walls had haunted all who had the misfortune of witnessing the Dark Knight at his worst. It was where he found his… sadistic pleasures. 

This wasn’t his first trip to the dungeons. Sir Brian remembered the one time he had the misfortune of finding himself witness to the Dark Knight at his most evil. He involuntarily shuddered at the thought and thanked God that the Dark Knight was away from the castle. No matter how hard he had tried, he hadn’t been able to remove the images from his memory. The sight of limp bodies dangling from the roof in various stages of decomposition, the agony filled screams from those awaiting their slow but painful death inside the Iron Maiden, the sound of bones breaking as people were stretched on the rack, mutilated bodies of prisoners who had been sawed in half or completely, limbs from quartered prisoners stashed in a corner – a tangled mess of arms and legs. 

The worst sight and sound was the Dark Knight himself. His eyes were almost always glazed over, and as black as the night. His mouth always pulled in a grin as if he were truly enjoying the pain of the tortured. His body had been soaked in blood as if he had bathed in it. With each scream, the Dark Knight would roar – a gluttonous sound that seemed to further his frenzy and demented pleasures. 

A separate room in the torture chambers had smelled the worst. He hadn’t seen what it contained but rumors had it that the Dark Knight had preserved the heads of all prisoners who had been piked. It had also been rumored that the Dark Knight cared not for the age or gender of the prisoners and that after a long torture session, he would sexually relieve himself on the bodies of his victims. Yes… Sir Brian knew exactly what smelt so foul – a terrible mix of old and fresh blood, rotting carcasses, and human waste.  With the Dark Knight away, he knew the torture chambers were not in use and those left in it were dead and already rotting away in the heat. 

Sir Brian shook himself from these haunting images and focused on what he needed to do now. He quietly made his way down to the gates at the end of the staircase and approached the guards. They stood up as a sign of respect towards Sir Brian and asked him his business. He offered them the ale he had brought and then sat down at the tables with them. Over the next half hour, he discussed with the guards the behavior of the new prisoners and whether in the interrogation process, anything insightful had been learned. He claimed he needed to report to Fergus and he needed every detail to satisfy the lord. 

Sir Brian winced when he learned that the prisoners had been beaten, some to a state of unconsciousness, but they had revealed nothing of significance. This would certainly make transporting the prisoners to the ships much… much… harder. He knew that prisoners such as these barbarians would be handed over to the Dark Knight upon his return. And no matter how adamant they were in their resolve to be silent, the Dark Knight would learn of their secrets. No one ever left the torture chambers alive and no secret had remained hidden from the Dark Knight for too long. Prisoners always succumbed to his questions and torture methods. Always. 

When the effect of the brew began setting in, the guards looked alarmed. Some looked betrayed. The strongest ones found it within themselves to stand up long enough to draw their swords and swear before crumbling to the ground. Eventually though, sleep got to them all. No bodies were harmed and not a drop of blood was shed. 

Quickly, Sir Brian got off his chair and made his way to the hidden passageway. He hadn’t counted on the brew being slow to take affect and wondered whether his son and Olaf had passed out from the stench around them. He was beyond relieved to find both men still on their feet albeit green in the face. Olaf managed to stand long enough to watch Sir Brian’s son retch all over the floor before his own gut threw up its contents. His pride wasn’t too badly hurt. After all, he had managed to keep his stomach’s contents inside longer than the boy.