My World of Hell, part one

I've avoided talking about this, but I need to share it. That would be my capture (and torture) at the hands of Hedrack.

The others wonder about it. Audry said she sensed a change in me when she first met me. She worried that a part of me had been destroyed. She has since said that she believes I have recovered. I think she wants me to discuss it, not because she is curious, but because she feels it will help. She hasn't exactly said this, but she certainly leaves that impression. She has a way of doing that--making you understand what she means without actually saying what she means. She's a bundle of wisdom.

Marc teaches me the fundamentals of magic. Haven't managed to get even basic cantrips to work. I don't even get a fizzle. I wave my hands around, say a bunch of words, and nothing happens. He says I'm making progress. I think I suck. One time I started to talk about it. He asked me a question about it, but I changed the subject. He didn't pry. I think he hopes that in time I will open up to him about it, and if I don't that's fine too. He's just giving me the opportunity to talk about it if I want.

Whenever Saul thinks I'm depressed he just gets me drunk. Then we sing (which is one way to clear the bar). He teaches me sea chanties and I teach him Beastie Boys songs. I had the whole bar shouting "No Sleep 'til Brooklyn" and playing air guitar. In the end, it makes me feel better.

Anna just winks, wiggles, and teases. She's not serious, but she knows I'm your average guy. When she thinks I'm depressed, she wears this shirt that shows off just the right amount of cleavage. Works every time. That kind of thing takes your mind off of just about anything. From time to time, she'll show me some slight of hand stuff she does. She'll even talk about locks. She carries one with her. She says it's a very simple one. I'm still working on it--hey, it's harder than it looks.

They each have their own way of making me feel better, doing what they do best. They don't push and they don't press me for information. In short, they're are the best friends I've ever had. That's why it makes me feel bad that I have to share this with a diary (and possibly my own world) instead of talking to them.

For now, though, that's how it has to be.

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I awoke. My arms felt as if they had been yanked from their sockets. I lifted my head and opened my eyes. The light was dim, but it stung my eyes. I tried to stand, but the floor was too far away. I hung from the ceiling by manacles, my feet inches from the floor. I pulled at them. The metal manacles cut deeply into my wrists. I grimaced with the pain, and I must have voiced my pain for out of the shadows of the meager torch light came a meager voice.

"Ah, good." It was a man's voice. "Awake are we?" He moved forward. He was human. His hair was graying and his face had lines, but he appeared vigorous. He wore regal, black robes. The eye-emblem was on the breast. I came to know this was the symbol of the elemental temple.

"Don't worry about your friends," he said. "They are being dealt with as we speak."

"You son of a--" A sharp pain cut me off. Something exploded on my side and chest. It felt like hot lava had been thrown at me by a professional ball player.

"Hurts, doesn't it?" the man stepped forward. "My wizard in here," he gestured toward the shadows, "is very capable. I've never been struck by them myself, but my understand is that magic missiles can be most painful." He moved within inches of me. "Is that true?"

"Oh no," I said. "It's like a maiden's kiss. Not that you would know you old coot."

Fire raked across my back, that or a thousand shards of glass. I screamed loud enough to wake the dead. The man before me did not flinch.

"My associates use far more crude instruments," he said. He reached behind me and picked up what looked like a short whip, but there were nine of them on one handle and they each had small pieces of sharp metal attached to them. I felt something warm run down my back. God, my back must be hell by now.

"But make no mistake," he said, "they are just as effective." He looked me over as he spoke, like a spider assessing its larder. "I am High Priest Hedrack."

"Oh," I said. My voice cracked as I spoke. "I've heard of you."

"Have you?" he said. He seemed genuinely interested. "Good or bad?"

"Fearful."

He laughed openly, as if we were a couple of guys shooting the breeze over a beer. "Good. Then you know what to expect."

"Well, I guess we won't be drinking to each others health."

"That depends," he said. He mumbled some words and touched me. An electric shock passed through me, but there was no pain involved. The pain in my side and my back lessened. "What I need--or rather, what my associates need--are answers to questions."

"Don't we all," I said.

He smiled, amused. "Indeed. Now, I know that the children are safe and sound and back with their families, yes?"

"Yeah," I said. "That's a pretty messed up thing to do pal."

He hesitated. "Yes. It was 'messed up,' as you say. I opposed it but my superiors said it was for the best. Dreadful business this is. So, I did as they asked and gave my soldiers strict orders not to harm them. I kept them well fed while they were here."

"You had them whipped," I said. "They had open sores on their bodies. They slept in their own filth." I spit at him. "You treated them like animals."

I felt the sharp pain from the cat-o-nine tails--for that's what it had to be--and I felt the healed wounds open up again.

"Yes, the ogre that cared for them did a poor job, I'm afraid," Hedrack said. "I had no choice, really. Most of my human guards had to watch the town. I had little choice. They refused to cooperate. If they had, their children would have remained with them, unharmed."

"You expected them to surrender to you just like that?"

"Oh come now," Hedrack said. "They're peasants. Peasants. Does it really matter who rules them? They work and toil their life away, regardless of their leaders. Nothing would have changed if they were ruled by us or Verbobonc."

"Us?"

"Of course," he said. "You know who my superiors are."

"Not precisely," I said. "I suppose whoever your boss is happens to control that army south of here as well."

"Yes," he said. His eye brows rose. "Very good. You have caused us much trouble, you and your friends. You shall be punished accordingly but if you wish to survive you will answer my questions." He gestured behind him. "One of my priests shall use magic to determine your truthfulness." He gestured over his other shoulder. "My wizard will provide appropriate punishment, as will my colleagues behind you."

I knew they were there when I felt the pain of the whip. Only now did I really sense their presence.

"Now," High Priest Hedrack said, "tell me what Verbobonc knows of our plans."

"Plans?"

All at once I felt the impact of magic missiles once more. They hit me in the exact same spot. At the same time, that evil whip peeled more skin off my back.

"Don't be coy," Hedrack said. "If you want to live and if you want your friends to live, you will do as I say."

I realized it didn't matter what I said. Verbobonc was open about a few things, and we had learned a few things while digging through the temple. I could share the information with him, but he wouldn't let me live. After everything we'd done? The best I could hope for was a quick death.

I felt blood run down my back. I couldn't take many more of those. And with Hedrack and his healing spells he could keep it up for a long time.

And what about my friends? Were they alive? Would he be done with them once I forked over everything I knew.

I was seriously screwed. I had to hold out. I couldn't lie to them, not if the priest was using some kind of lie detector thingy (and I every reason to believe this was the case). I had to keep my mouth shut for as long as I could.

Hedrack sensed this. He nodded, dismayed. "As you wish." He nodded to the people behind me.

Hours later, my blood coated the floor. I would pass out from the pain, only to awaken a few minutes later with my wounds healed. And then it would begin again. It went on this way for hours before they finally left me. They released the chains and left me on the floor, not fully healed, but enough so that I would last a while longer.

The pain was so great I couldn't even think. I could only sit there and whimper. There's nothing dignified about it and there's no heroic way to endure it. You simply lay there, broken, and hope they don't come back.

But they always come back. And it gets worse.