Blue Valley Underground - Part 16 - Knife
If you were Isaac, what would YOU do?
Blue Valley Underground - Part 16 - Knife
Glen, Lukas and Nathaniel were still wide-awake and waiting eagerly for their roommate's return. The moment Isaac stepped through the door, Glen blurted,
"What did he say?"
Isaac didn't even look at him, just headed straight for his personal trunk and kicked it open. Inside were folded clothes, his knapsack, Clara's book, and various trinkets he'd collected over the years.
"Well don't leave us guessing! Come on!" Glen urged him. Isaac sat on the floor and slipped on a pair of soft boots. He replied flatly,
"I'm a lost body."
Glen raised an eyebrow, "What?"
"I disappeared and my body was never found," The young soldier explained,
"If I rescue Clara and survive, I'll have to leave the continent. I think I'll go south."
Lukas's eyes bugged,
"Evan actually gave you permission for this?!"
"He signed my death certificate," Isaac shrugged, "I'm assuming that's permission."
"Isaac..." Glen muttered, almost inaudibly. He looked somewhere between somber and horrified,
"You're never coming back...?
Picking through his scant belongings, Isaac filled his knapsack with only the most important things. Matches, Logan's letter...
"No," he told Glen, "I'm dead. Dead people don't come back."
Lukas kneeled down beside him,
"It's not too late. You can talk to Evan, get him to throw that certificate away! This is crazy, Isaac! She's not worth it!"
Clara's book, his bronze halo...
"I'm not doing this for Clara," Isaac responded. He pulled Glen's insulting portrait off his wall, folded it, and tucked it in his bag,
"This is for me. It's personal."
"It's stupid is what it is!" Lukas paced angrily around the room, "Don't do this, please! You're not even twenty years old!"
His canteen, his blue yo-yo...
"Lukas. Don't stop him," Glen said. Isaac climbed off his bunk and the blonde man clamped a hand on his shoulder,
"See this kid? This is one courageous little bastard right here. Look at him, doing the kinda noble shit we ought'a be doing!" he grinned and squeezed Isaac in a tight hug,
"You're dyin' more honorably than we will, Barf Boy."
Isaac squeezed him back and smiled,
"Shut up, Glen."
"You can't really be doing this..." Lukas stared, still dumbfounded as Isaac slung his knapsack confidently over his shoulder.
"The doormen can't see me leave," said Isaac, "So I have to get out the window. Anyone know how to get these bars off?"
Nathaniel silently rose from his bed and rifled through his trunk until he found a wrench. He kicked the trunk against the wall and stood on it to reach the bolt on the top of the left most bar. The others watched, fascinated as he removed the bolt and twisted the bar down, leaving a gap just big enough for Isaac to squeeze through.
"Ta-da." Nathaniel droned and tossed the wrench aside. Isaac smiled and held his hand out for a shake,
"Thanks, Nate."
To his surprise, the shorter man grabbed his hand and pulled him into a tight embrace,
"I'm pissed that you're leaving and I ought to punch you in the jaw," Nathaniel said, patting his back,
"But I've always been okay with you. You never treated me like a goblin. So thanks." Withdrawing, he added,
"By the way...Those Underground sacks of shit play dirty. They might throw acid on you or somethin', so watch your back." he dragged a hand over his gnarled face,
"Do me a favor and take a few of 'em down with you. And if you see Zu-Kaal, tell him to suck my shriveled dick."
Isaac nodded,
"Thank you, Nate. And, uh...I will." He inhaled deeply and let it out slowly, looking towards the window. It was still just dark enough to sneak away unnoticed.
"Goodbye, Guys." He tipped his head, then unlatched the window. It swung open with a long, low creak. Using Nathaniel's trunk as a step, he climbed up, squeezed through the bars, and vaulted down to the prickly grass below. Looking back at the window one final time, Isaac already missed his friends. Just before he turned to leave, Lukas wriggled his torso through the bars.
"Hey!" the older soldier had something in his hand. He tossed it on the ground and said,
"It's old, but it does the job. Good luck, Soldier!" and with that, he disappeared and closed the window. Isaac picked up the object, turning it in his hands. A leather sheath, and inside was a dagger with a seven-inch blade. The handle was made of fine ivory, slightly discolored and chipped, with detailed images of elephant-mounted warriors carved into it. Isaac was no expert on these things, but he guessed it was from the Midlands in Serkel. Concealing the weapon in his boot, he ran off to the train station.
It was noon by the time Isaac arrived in Newell. He should have been reporting his book assignment to Evan at this hour, but instead he was on his way to a likely death. A pang of regret struck him the moment he stepped off the train. Taking a deep breath, he pressed on down the busy main road. The tall buildings, the stink of pollution, the citizens in their fine clothes--It was all sickeningly familiar. He nervously thumbed his military ID necklace as he approached the docks. It allowed him a free ride here, and if he survived, it would get him another ride out.
There it was just ahead: Tears of Eros. Isaac could read the sign now. The nausea intensified the closer he got, and as he reached for the door, he faltered and turned away.
"Oh, God..." Isaac muttered and dragged a sweaty palm over his equally sweaty face. He couldn't do this. He didn't want to die. But what if he succeeded? Clara was being tortured. He was her only hope. Pacing around outside the brothel, Isaac murmured and trembled and tore his hair out until onlookers began to giggle.
Isaac never came to a real decision. He just decided to do what he did best and impulsively throw himself at a situation; rushing to the door and storming in before he could change his mind. It was no brighter or less foul here than it was last time. The first thing he noticed was the burly long-haired man standing against the wall. He glared at Isaac, but didn't move. Sure enough, there was Miss Krista tending the bar. She looked Isaac's way immediately, spotting him before he spotted her. Her unfeeling gaze made him shudder and the bile rose in his throat. He shot her a glare and made his way to an empty table. He didn't know who he was supposed to meet, but he hoped they'd notice him.
Apparently, they already did.
Isaac froze as he noticed Miss Krista walking towards him. Her expression was grim, maybe a bit irritated.
"Get the hell away from me." Isaac snarled. The woman scoffed without cracking a smile,
"You had a meeting?"
The boy's eyes widened. He simply nodded.
"Follow me." Miss Krista ordered, and he followed her down a corridor.
The sound of drunken men and live music became muffled and distant as they stopped at the very end of the long hall. Miss Krista retrieved a key from her bra and unlocked the door. Inside was a small room, no different from the one Isaac stayed in.
"Push that bed against the corner." She said, and pointed to the iron-framed bed in the middle of the wall. Isaac hesitantly obeyed. There was a small, barely-noticeable gap at the bottom of two wall planks. Miss Krista shoved her fingers in the gap and pulled, and just like Mr. Callahan's false wall panel, the planks lifted and exposed a long, descending staircase. This time, there was light at the bottom.
"After you." The woman gestured to the new doorway. Isaac forced his cold feet down the stairs, keeping one hand flat against the wall as Miss Krista followed a few steps behind. He half-expected her to shove him down. At the bottom was a small room with natural stone walls. Nothing inside but a lantern on the floor and a little brass bell hanging from a ceiling beam.
"You're part of the Underground, aren't you?" Isaac asked quickly, "And Mr. Callahan! Was he? D-did you know him? He said y--"
"Shut the fuck up." The woman said flatly, then rang the bell three times.
The next few seconds were silent. Isaac froze with bated breath. Miss Krista rang the bell more vigorously and crowed,
"Today, you stone bitch!"
Then, there was a faint cracking sound. It grew louder, and a fissure opened up in the middle of the wall. Isaac watched, slack-jawed as the crack spread and the stone crumbled to a pile of gravel, opening a round doorway in the wall. Beyond it stood a nude grey-skinned woman, no taller than five feet. Her skin was pliable like flesh, but had the texture of marble. Her hair was as shiny and black as obsidian, and shards of gleaming iron were jutting out from her skin like metallic freckles.
This strange girl-creature stepped aside and Miss Krista shoved Isaac through the makeshift doorway. Two hefty armored trolls were waiting off to the side. They seized him immediately and Isaac yelped, kicking instinctively for a few seconds before realizing it was futile. The trolls towered a foot over him. They had olive skin with the texture of bumpy leather and appeared to be male, with horns sprouting from the sides of their heads and long discolored fangs protruding towards their gorilla-like snouts. Their claws were like that of a bear and they shared tails like Dolly's; long and bristly with a tuft of hair at the end.
Without a word, the trolls began dragging Isaac down the dim tunnel. Throwing a glance behind him, he noticed the grey woman sway her hands, and the pile of gravel reshaped itself back into a smooth wall. Seamless, as if it had never broken at all.
No one will ever find me, Isaac thought, and suddenly felt numb. The tunnel seemed to go on forever, gradually descending down with occasional stone steps. The walls turned from packed dirt to solid stone the deeper they went.
Finally, the tunnel came to an opening. Isaac gasped at the sight before him; surely this was a dream! It was hard to believe that an entire city existed below Newell. It was enormous, with the same wide streets and tall buildings as its topside counterpart. Almost a mirror image, but this city was very dim and full of even stranger characters. The trolls led Isaac down what appeared to be the center of town. Most of the structures were carved from natural stone with impossible precision. It was warm and humid, but the residents wore little to no clothing and didn't seem to mind. They crowded the streets, whooping, hollering, flying, creatures unlike Isaac had ever seen. He recognized some from picture books: Centaurs, pixies, and satyrs.
A trio of goblin women conversed by a fountain with naked wrists; no shackles to be seen. A slender male satyr danced with a green-haired elf in the middle of the street while onlookers cheered. Winged faefolk zipped through the air. There was music from every direction, chatter in countless languages, peculiar people in peculiar shapes and sizes wearing peculiar clothes bustling about...Isaac's head was spinning. It was all too much. He blinked and stumbled along with his troll captors, silently absorbing the playful chaos around him. Was this the so-called "Underground"? This was not the gloomy, foreboding headquarters he was expecting. Though it was literally dark, there seemed to be no malicious activity here. It was beautiful, really. Colorful lanterns were hanging everywhere, lighting the city in a particolored glow.
Isaac didn't know where these trolls were leading him, but for the moment, he was almost eager to see more of this place. They passed a subterranean stream that gave life to a mossy ground and little red mushrooms. Isaac gawked at the voluptuous blue-skinned women lounging nude on the shore. They waved enthusiastically as he passed, giggling and shouting words he couldn't understand. Their voices were otherworldly, like babbling water.
The trolls stopped briefly at an iron-barred door in the side of a wall. The doorman--another troll--opened it and they passed through. Isaac winced at the loud noises echoing off the walls; imprisoned creatures shouting and rattling the iron doors of their cells. They stopped in front of one with a familiar face inside.
"Clara!" Isaac exclaimed, briefly resisting the trolls' hold. The girl was sitting in the corner, wearing nothing but her panties. Her long hair was down and in disarray, wrapped around her like a shroud. She looked up at Isaac, staring in silent disbelief while a troll guard unlocked the cell. His captors wrenched his knapsack off his shoulders, then roughly shoved him to the ground and closed the barred door before lumbering away.
"Isaac...?" Clara queried. The boy scrambled towards her and took her hands,
"I'm here." He panted, "It'll be okay."
She shook her head, horror in her eyes and mouth parted slightly as if she wanted to speak, but the words wouldn't come. Only now did Isaac notice her swollen eye and the dried blood on her upper lip. His expression fell,
"What did they do to you?"
Clara shook her head again,
"What the fuck are you doing here, Isaac?" Her voice was a bit raspy, but her tone was furious, "Tell me you didn't chase after me again! Tell me they kidnapped you!"
He admitted quickly, "They left me a note. It said if I didn't show up, they'd make you suffer."
Clara's fists began to tremble. She gnashed her teeth and groaned, holding back her rage for all of five seconds before it overpowered her.
"You fucking idiot!" She shrieked. Isaac held up his arms, defending himself from her swinging fists,
"You so fucking stupid! You deserve this! You deserve this, Isaac!"
"Clara--" he grabbed her wrists and she struggled only for a moment before collapsing against the wall.
"God, I can't believe this..." the girl sobbed. She curled up on the floor, into a ball of flesh and very long, dark hair. Isaac sat beside her helplessly, the regret dropping on him like a ton of bricks.
Maybe this was a bad idea after all.
"Do you have a-any idea...W-what they're going to do...to us, you fuckup?" Clara asked after some time, choking through tears. Isaac stared at the wall and answered quietly,
"They're gonna kill us."
"No!" The girl shot up and balled her fists. A bit of hair was caught in her mouth as she shouted,
"They're going to whore us out, Isaac! We're gonna be choking on dick 'till it kills us! Or gee, maybe that's just me," she rolled her eyes and pointed a slim finger in his face, "Maybe they'll shove drugs up your ass and run you back 'n forth across the border until the patrol cuts your head off. Who knows? Our futures are fucking full of possibilities now!"
That said, she buried her head between her knees, her body quaking violently between sobs and coughs.
Isaac paled. What had he gotten himself into? His mind blanked and he stared into space, unwilling to let any of this sink in yet. He just couldn't handle it at the moment.
"Why did you hit Chaplain Sanford?" he asked. There was a little tremor in his voice. Clara stared at him for a moment, looking like she might strike him again. She replied bluntly,
"That so-called holy man was trying to get up my skirt. About the tenth time he shoved his nasty old hand in my top, I broke his fuckin' beak."
The boy's eyebrows shot up,
"That's not true..."
"Fuck you, 'it's not true'!" Clara rose to her feet and gave him a bare-footed kick. She seethed, "You think I wanted to leave? After all the bullshit I went through, and all the bullshit you went through to get me there? How dare you! How dare you, Isaac, you prick! Call me a fucking liar!"
She repeatedly kicked him until he stood up and trapped her in a tight hold.
"Let go!" Clara shrieked and wriggled. She heard a soft sound from her friend, then stilled. His back quaked and he buried his face in her hair.
He was crying.
Softly at first, then it escalated and tears poured down his face.
"I'm not sorry for coming here," he sniffled, "I'm going to get us out. I promise. We'll get out of here. I won't let them use you like that."
For a long moment, Clara let Isaac cry in her arms. Then she returned the embrace and kissed his cheek,
"My knight in shining armor is crying like a baby." She mused, "I think we're pretty well fucked, Honey."
Isaac sniffled and forced calmness to his voice, quickly swiping the tears off his face. He mentioned,
"I'm not a soldier anymore. My marshal declared me dead and allowed me to do this."
A look of genuine surprise crossed the girl's face,
"Really? That tight-ass broke the rules for you?"
Isaac simply nodded. Clara rested her head against his chest and sighed,
"I'm sorry you met me."
"I'm not," replied Isaac. His eyes were sincere as he told her, "I'd rather suffer knowing I did the right thing, than spend my life making others suffer. If I wasn't here, I'd be turning innocent people into slaves. And if I wasn't doing that I'd be a vagrant, stealing from people just to survive," he shrugged, "I'm glad I chose you."
A tiny smile tugged at Clara's lips.
"You know, we don't have to suffer. We can end it before they come for us." She glanced up at him, meeting his eyes,
"We wouldn't die alone."
Isaac's heart skipped a beat. He turned, looking through the bars at all the shouting, miserable, prisoners waiting for torture as if it was the only stimulation in their lives. Turning back to Clara, he swallowed and said weakly,
"We wouldn't be lost bodies..."
She forced a grin,
"Right. If you believe in that kinda shit, we wouldn't." taking his hands, she leaned into him and planted kisses on his throat,
"You could choke me or something, you're plenty strong enough." She muttered under his ear, "I bet I could snap your neck if I tried."
Isaac's skin crawled. The thought of killing her made him sick, but her kisses were so wonderful. Did he have another option? Could he really get her out of here? Those trolls were like living siege weapons. He didn't stand a chance against even one, not without his sword and amour. Clara paused and added,
"Shit. But then who would kill you? You can't break your own neck, can you?"
"I have a knife." The words leaked from Isaac's mouth like water. Or vomit. He took a quick look around and pulled her into the darkest corner of the cell before retrieving Lukas' dagger from his boot.
Clara's eyes rounded. She asked quietly,
"Would it be quick?"
Isaac nodded, "There's a vein in your neck. You pass out pretty quick when you cut it, and you..." he choked slightly, "You die while you're out. My marshal told me to do it if the enemy ever captured me."
"Well, I'd say these are enemies," replied Clara, "And this is a captive situation."
There was a long silence. Isaac chewed his lip nervously, fondling the knife, becoming familiar with the blade. It had been sharpened recently.
"I don't know where to cut," Clara told him, and sat against the wall, "Looks like I'll have to drop first."
Isaac crouched beside her. She brushed her hair over her shoulder, exposing one side of her flat, sunken chest, and tilted her head to the side. Her neck was so thin; Isaac was sure he could lop her whole head off with one swipe. The artery wasn't hard to see.
"Go ahead." She frowned, closing her eyes, "I'll forgive you. Just...Don't fuck up, please."
Isaac's heart was racing. He could hardly breathe. He raised the knife to her throat, palm sweaty, fingers quivering. The blade shook, gleaming in the dim light. He took one, two, three deep breaths and pressed the metal to her throat. He saw her brow twitch, her lip stretch in fearful anticipation.
"I...I can't." he murmured, withdrawing the knife slightly. Sweat rolled down his brow, "I can't do this to you..."
The girl reached up and pressed the blade to her neck again,
"Do you want those big ugly trolls to rape me to death? Because that's what'll happen if you don't." Her eyes were wide, intense, "You're doing the right thing, Isaac. I promise." She closed her eyes again. Her expression was inappropriately calm.
Isaac wanted to close his eyes too. Watching Clara die was the last thing he wanted to do, next to actually taking her life. But he had to focus, had to do this right, had to make sure she didn't suffer. One more deep breath--
"Isn't that romantic?"
Isaac jumped, nearly cutting Clara as a voice from behind chuckled,
"You were really going to do it, weren't you, Boy?"
Clara opened her eyes and Isaac turned, keeping the knife to her throat. A tall, lean man was standing outside the cell. Every inch of his body was covered by black leather armor and a red head wrap obscured everything but his eyes. Those eyes were narrow, dark in color.
"Seems the guards weren't very thorough," he told Isaac, staring him down intently, "Put that terrible thing down. You don't really want to kill her." His voice was muffled slightly by the head wrap, smooth with a touch of an accent. His k's and t's were loose and gravelly--a Southland accent, Isaac realized.
"I'll see you in Hell!" Clara growled at the stranger, "You slimy cock-eater--"
The man raised a hand, "Enough--"
"--sack of pus! Vermin shit!" the girl screamed, then looked at Isaac with terrified eyes,
"Now, Isaac! Please!" her words were quick, desperate.
The boy's heart skipped. His muscles tensed and he fully intended to drive the blade into her. In that instant, it was as if someone seized his hand and jerked him back. Isaac grunted and fell backward, nearly driving the dagger through his own face. He turned this way and that. The cell was not open, there was no one there, and the man was still standing outside.
"I think not." The man scowled, then Isaac yelped as he was thrown against the bars by the invisible force. He lost his grip on the dagger and it shot directly into the man's waiting left palm, as if attracted by a magnet.
Isaac stumbled to his feet, turning all around, failing to understand what was assaulting him. He heard a whimper from Clara and saw her pressing her hands to her neck, her face contorted in pain. Blood was dribbling down her arm. He rushed to her side, prying her hands from her throat. There was a cut there. Not quite deep enough to be fatal, but her blood was so thin--almost like water--and poured like a stream regardless.
"Clara..." he muttered, eyes darting about as if there might be a solution somewhere. She didn't speak, only whimpered and anxiously, affectionately, stroked his hair.
Something clutched Isaac's arm--something physical this time--and dragged him back. Clara touched his face as he left, leaving a glistening smear of blood on his cheek.
"No!" The boy screamed like an animal and writhed helplessly in a troll's hold, "No! Get off me! Get the fuck off me! Fuck--!"
He was silenced when the man in black armor clamped a gloved hand tightly over his mouth.
"This behavior will not be tolerated," he told Isaac sharply, "I intended to be civil with you. But if you wish to fight, then so be it. You will beg for mercy soon enough."