Short Story 1: rough draft
They were setting their fates in the hands of this barbarian. He could barely even read, yet they were entrusting their very lives and the lives of everyone to his hands, and there he sat, as though he didn't give a damn one way or another about a thing. They didn't even know why he had agreed to help them.
"No." He said in his strange rough voice. The tale was that he had been so severely tortured by Cornelius that he stripped his throat bare with screaming. Or he was strangled. Or his parents tried to kill him because he was fated to have a miserable life, but they didn't succeed.
"You can't just send a handful of men into an army that large!" Lord Devison said. Others agreed, but the little barbarian didn't even glance up from the paper he was studying. He probably couldn't even read it. When he didn't answer, the Lords grew angry.
"I will not allow you to recklessly use our soldiers this way." Lord Marl said. "These men trust us with their lives, you cannot simply throw them to Cornelius!"
The damned barbarian still didn't respond. He had a blank look on his face as he always did when dealing with the Lords. In fact, he had never seen the General have a pleasant look on his face. He never smiled nor laughed, even when with the soldiers or that companion he kept.
The soldiers adored him, though, that mcuh was regrettably evident. He had gained their respect and trust, an important thing for any general to have. If only the little bastard wasn't so difficult to manage.
"I will lead them." He said suddenly, glancing at those in his tent.
"Unacceptable! And if you die? What then?" They clamered.
"It would not change much. It is not though I am the only general here, is it?" He threw their own arguments against him back in their faces.
"No, you are not, that doesn't mean just because you will lead them we won't object to losing so many men." Lord Devison said.
"I thought they were a mere handful." He said.
"I... know this is difficult for you," Lord Marl began, "Let us speak in private, my friend."
"Speak," The General commanded. Marl hesitated, his discomfort not feigned.
"When.... I was there when you were Cornelius' captive. Not the entire time but... but long enough. I know you have a lot you wish to avenge, but you cannot do it to the risk of losing trust and faith of those following you."
This was a surprise. Everyone quickly glanced at the General to see his reaction. His face remained blank. He glanced at each of the men and said, "Does no one else have somethign to add? No? Then we shall leave now."
The General dismissed them and he left feeling very pleased. Finally, he had found someone who had first handedly witnessed the horrors so commonly circulated among the soldiers.
That had been a few weeks ago. He had finally won his way into Lord Marv's trust. He would finally know what Marv had seen of Sal's captivity under Cornelius. Much had hapenned since he had first found out that Marv had been there during the captivity, but the thought of tonight had distracted him.
"Its difficult to know the truth from the lies with all the stories surrounding him," He OPened for Marv.
"Unfortunately, its only too easy for me to imagien which ones are real. Cornelius is a brutal bastard. I think he is the only one who truly knows the extent of what Sal has gone through."
"Not Sal himself?" He asked.
"Not even he himself. I must admit, I was very happy he did nto recognize me."
"From when you last saw him."
"Yes. I was part of one of his... unfortunate incidents. Its why I believe not even he remembers quite everything. Not that one can blame him, his time there was very rough, and I do not like to remember the few incidents I had witnessed." Marv said, his voice dull.
He chose his next words carefully, "So you had met him before."
"Yes. I had seen him here and there, but our first interaction was at a ball. He had come with his keeper, Lord Thomas. He was always led around by him, no one else really took care of him. At least in public."
"Led?"
"Yes, he wore a large leather collar around his neck always, and from there a chain linked him to Lord Thomas. I've heard he wore collars before, which is why he has the marks around his neck."
"Not strangulation." He stated.
"No, he was definately strangulated a few times, but the marks are from a collar, I've heard." Marv paused.
"So you had seen him at the ball?"
"Yes. They had cut his hair unevenly and very short. I think they were trying to make him look less like a barbarian. He stood behind Lord Thoms much of the time, except for shortly after we ate. They wanted entertainment, and a lady called out she wished to see Sal. She had asked how well trained he was, since he did so well on leash. Thomas sent him to the center of the room and told himto do whatever the lady asked." Marv fell silent. "She asked him to do some things." He finally said.
"Some things?" He asked quietly, careful not to jolt him from his trance like state.
"Small things at first, like fetch her wine, but it gradually became harder and more cruel. Things like drink a full pitcher of wine without a breath, or stand on his head until she said so. By then, everyone's attention was on him. He seemed so hardened to it all, as though this hapenned all the time, and I believe it did. They enjoyed mocking him, making him into a fool. And he would simply do as they asked." He fell silent.
"You talked to him?" He prompted.
"Not quite. By then, everyone was calling out things for him to say or do. I found myself unable to participate and the lady, who was seated at my side, had noticed. She had asked me what animal I favored. I answered her a dog. She called out to Salyk to act like a dog. Obediantly, he went onto his hands and knees. His face wasn't blank, there simply was nothing there, as though he had retreated so far into himself that nothing was left behind. She asked me if I thought he was doing a good job." He fell silent. Moments passed before he finally continued.
"I told her he did well enough. She asked me what was wrong." Again, he stopped.
"And?" He asked gently.
"I told her dogs ate from a bowl. Suddenly they... they were all encouraging me to... set... a bowl. For him to eat from. They gave me a bowl of raw meat, and I walked to him, where he knelt on his hands and knees and I... I set the... the bowl in front of him and commanded him to eat it. And he did."
"I'm su-"
"Then the lady called out dogs do not dress up, so they had him remove all his clothing and eat the raw meat. And I sat there doing nothing to stop them, or to help him. I knew if he did not do well they would punish him cruelly. Cruelly." He stopped talking. His voice was emotionless as he finished his recounting. Before he could ask anything, Marv continued.
"His chest is covered in marks and words and tattoos. You can see words and a map carved into his back. Thats why he never bathes with the men. I think he is ashamed of it. And his shoulders... and hips... they aren't right, either. They did something to him, something that twisted the muscles in them. And the marks...." He trailed off.
"You have seen him being punished?" He finally asked.
"They were terrible to him. They washed him in ice cold water by the barn. It made him stiff because of his shoulders. They would have him hold a chain above his head as they beat him, and if he dropped it, he would be whipped or worse. They would clean his wounds with salt and water. He had somehow dislodged his shoulder and they had returned it to place without any pain relief, and he was not to make a sound. They loved to publicly humiliate him. Everyone hated him from the soldiers. They told me he was vicious before, he had even bitten the face off of someone once before. But I don't think his punishment fit his crimes."
"Everyone knows there is no love lost between you and he," He began, but Marv cut in.
"My guilt does not mean I must agree to his methods. I only wish I hadn't seen him in that manner. Though the soldiers hated him worse, it was the nobles who tortured and helped humiliate him most." Marv added thoughtfully.
"Perhaps thats why he dislikes us so now?" He offered, "But what makes you so sure he doesn't remember you?"
"Perhaps. Tell me, if someone had done so to you, would you treat them respectfully?" Marv asked.
"No, I would not. He might be barbaric, but he has never been rude."
"Exactly. I like to believe that the wine he had made made him drunk. He had vomited it and the meat that night. They had him clean it, but it was not to be thrown out. I don't want to know what became of it. I wish I could forget it all, but perhaps this is my punishment for not doing more. ...I must leave, please excuse me." Marv rose and quickly left.
He finally had a true witness to the stories he had heard. It made him decide to find out more witness accounts.
With a sigh, he rose, lighted more lamps, and set to writing.
"No." He said in his strange rough voice. The tale was that he had been so severely tortured by Cornelius that he stripped his throat bare with screaming. Or he was strangled. Or his parents tried to kill him because he was fated to have a miserable life, but they didn't succeed.
"You can't just send a handful of men into an army that large!" Lord Devison said. Others agreed, but the little barbarian didn't even glance up from the paper he was studying. He probably couldn't even read it. When he didn't answer, the Lords grew angry.
"I will not allow you to recklessly use our soldiers this way." Lord Marl said. "These men trust us with their lives, you cannot simply throw them to Cornelius!"
The damned barbarian still didn't respond. He had a blank look on his face as he always did when dealing with the Lords. In fact, he had never seen the General have a pleasant look on his face. He never smiled nor laughed, even when with the soldiers or that companion he kept.
The soldiers adored him, though, that mcuh was regrettably evident. He had gained their respect and trust, an important thing for any general to have. If only the little bastard wasn't so difficult to manage.
"I will lead them." He said suddenly, glancing at those in his tent.
"Unacceptable! And if you die? What then?" They clamered.
"It would not change much. It is not though I am the only general here, is it?" He threw their own arguments against him back in their faces.
"No, you are not, that doesn't mean just because you will lead them we won't object to losing so many men." Lord Devison said.
"I thought they were a mere handful." He said.
"I... know this is difficult for you," Lord Marl began, "Let us speak in private, my friend."
"Speak," The General commanded. Marl hesitated, his discomfort not feigned.
"When.... I was there when you were Cornelius' captive. Not the entire time but... but long enough. I know you have a lot you wish to avenge, but you cannot do it to the risk of losing trust and faith of those following you."
This was a surprise. Everyone quickly glanced at the General to see his reaction. His face remained blank. He glanced at each of the men and said, "Does no one else have somethign to add? No? Then we shall leave now."
The General dismissed them and he left feeling very pleased. Finally, he had found someone who had first handedly witnessed the horrors so commonly circulated among the soldiers.
That had been a few weeks ago. He had finally won his way into Lord Marv's trust. He would finally know what Marv had seen of Sal's captivity under Cornelius. Much had hapenned since he had first found out that Marv had been there during the captivity, but the thought of tonight had distracted him.
"Its difficult to know the truth from the lies with all the stories surrounding him," He OPened for Marv.
"Unfortunately, its only too easy for me to imagien which ones are real. Cornelius is a brutal bastard. I think he is the only one who truly knows the extent of what Sal has gone through."
"Not Sal himself?" He asked.
"Not even he himself. I must admit, I was very happy he did nto recognize me."
"From when you last saw him."
"Yes. I was part of one of his... unfortunate incidents. Its why I believe not even he remembers quite everything. Not that one can blame him, his time there was very rough, and I do not like to remember the few incidents I had witnessed." Marv said, his voice dull.
He chose his next words carefully, "So you had met him before."
"Yes. I had seen him here and there, but our first interaction was at a ball. He had come with his keeper, Lord Thomas. He was always led around by him, no one else really took care of him. At least in public."
"Led?"
"Yes, he wore a large leather collar around his neck always, and from there a chain linked him to Lord Thomas. I've heard he wore collars before, which is why he has the marks around his neck."
"Not strangulation." He stated.
"No, he was definately strangulated a few times, but the marks are from a collar, I've heard." Marv paused.
"So you had seen him at the ball?"
"Yes. They had cut his hair unevenly and very short. I think they were trying to make him look less like a barbarian. He stood behind Lord Thoms much of the time, except for shortly after we ate. They wanted entertainment, and a lady called out she wished to see Sal. She had asked how well trained he was, since he did so well on leash. Thomas sent him to the center of the room and told himto do whatever the lady asked." Marv fell silent. "She asked him to do some things." He finally said.
"Some things?" He asked quietly, careful not to jolt him from his trance like state.
"Small things at first, like fetch her wine, but it gradually became harder and more cruel. Things like drink a full pitcher of wine without a breath, or stand on his head until she said so. By then, everyone's attention was on him. He seemed so hardened to it all, as though this hapenned all the time, and I believe it did. They enjoyed mocking him, making him into a fool. And he would simply do as they asked." He fell silent.
"You talked to him?" He prompted.
"Not quite. By then, everyone was calling out things for him to say or do. I found myself unable to participate and the lady, who was seated at my side, had noticed. She had asked me what animal I favored. I answered her a dog. She called out to Salyk to act like a dog. Obediantly, he went onto his hands and knees. His face wasn't blank, there simply was nothing there, as though he had retreated so far into himself that nothing was left behind. She asked me if I thought he was doing a good job." He fell silent. Moments passed before he finally continued.
"I told her he did well enough. She asked me what was wrong." Again, he stopped.
"And?" He asked gently.
"I told her dogs ate from a bowl. Suddenly they... they were all encouraging me to... set... a bowl. For him to eat from. They gave me a bowl of raw meat, and I walked to him, where he knelt on his hands and knees and I... I set the... the bowl in front of him and commanded him to eat it. And he did."
"I'm su-"
"Then the lady called out dogs do not dress up, so they had him remove all his clothing and eat the raw meat. And I sat there doing nothing to stop them, or to help him. I knew if he did not do well they would punish him cruelly. Cruelly." He stopped talking. His voice was emotionless as he finished his recounting. Before he could ask anything, Marv continued.
"His chest is covered in marks and words and tattoos. You can see words and a map carved into his back. Thats why he never bathes with the men. I think he is ashamed of it. And his shoulders... and hips... they aren't right, either. They did something to him, something that twisted the muscles in them. And the marks...." He trailed off.
"You have seen him being punished?" He finally asked.
"They were terrible to him. They washed him in ice cold water by the barn. It made him stiff because of his shoulders. They would have him hold a chain above his head as they beat him, and if he dropped it, he would be whipped or worse. They would clean his wounds with salt and water. He had somehow dislodged his shoulder and they had returned it to place without any pain relief, and he was not to make a sound. They loved to publicly humiliate him. Everyone hated him from the soldiers. They told me he was vicious before, he had even bitten the face off of someone once before. But I don't think his punishment fit his crimes."
"Everyone knows there is no love lost between you and he," He began, but Marv cut in.
"My guilt does not mean I must agree to his methods. I only wish I hadn't seen him in that manner. Though the soldiers hated him worse, it was the nobles who tortured and helped humiliate him most." Marv added thoughtfully.
"Perhaps thats why he dislikes us so now?" He offered, "But what makes you so sure he doesn't remember you?"
"Perhaps. Tell me, if someone had done so to you, would you treat them respectfully?" Marv asked.
"No, I would not. He might be barbaric, but he has never been rude."
"Exactly. I like to believe that the wine he had made made him drunk. He had vomited it and the meat that night. They had him clean it, but it was not to be thrown out. I don't want to know what became of it. I wish I could forget it all, but perhaps this is my punishment for not doing more. ...I must leave, please excuse me." Marv rose and quickly left.
He finally had a true witness to the stories he had heard. It made him decide to find out more witness accounts.
With a sigh, he rose, lighted more lamps, and set to writing.