It was lights-out for the inmates at the Avarus Wall. The only light was from the full moon shining through the windows. Occasionally, there would be the warm glow of a candle from the odd guard patrolling the halls. Winter was reaching its most brutal weather yet; frigid temperatures being the least extreme part of it. The prison was soon expecting the arrival of another supply caravan, which was set to arrive some time in the afternoon of the next day.
Lucullus slowly drifted to sleep while continuing to reflect on the prayer he was taught by that ghost. His doubts about the ghost began to grow. It seemed as if he was waiting on some mythical event. He certainly didn’t care much for banking all of his hopes on the predictions of this supernatural visitor; maybe one day he would know this ghost on a first-name basis, or at least have some name to go off of.
With a loud commotion, some guards unlocked and entered his cell. By the time he got his bearings, his hands were already bound together. He tried to break his binds, but to no avail. As he struggled to keep up with his rapidly changing situation, he felt himself being dragged out of his cell, and down the cold stone hallways.
As he was thrown into a new cell, he noticed that it was different from all the other cells. But he didn’t have much time to reflect on it before his feet were chained, and he felt himself being raised off the ground. The sound of old chains creaking against their metal pulleys echoed through the halls. The floor started to look like the ceiling, the guards were upside down, and he felt blood rush to his head. All of this made his stomach churn; and his head pounded. His arms dangled; his hands and part of his forearms brushed against the floor. His hair was just long enough to graze against the ground. It was clear that this torture device wasn’t made with someone of his stature in mind.
Once Lucullus was suspended by his new binds, a man entered the cell. His face would’ve been more familiar had it not appeared upside down, and barely illuminated in the candlelight. “Looks like you’ve been busy spreading your tall tales. Some of which have taken the interest of a few notable guards here.”
Lucullus remained silent; not out of anger, but out of grogginess.
“Silent as always. Or is this silence reserved for those who would laugh at your barbaric speech? I doubt you have anything intelligent to say about your situation right now. Perhaps you may find something useful to say, at the very least, after some time in here. I’m sure your new arrangements will allow you to see the world from a different perspective.”
“What evil have I done?”
Pontius made hand gestures in a mocking sort of amazement. “So he can speak to us! Such a precious moment to cherish. It might not happen again.”
“For what reason do you do this?”
Pontius snapped his fingers. “I am the one who asks. You are simply to answer what is asked.”
“I just want to know what I am accused of.”
“And I want to know exactly what sort of entity has visited my fortress. You claim a ghost had a chat with you. I want to know what this ghost told you. So, I suggest you refrain from pontificating in your current position.”
“I’m not even sure what the ghost said to me; or what you just said to me.”
Pontius guffawed; his deep, mocking tone sounding like thunder through the halls and cells. He looked around at his men. “Did I not tell you, this man was dead from the neck up?” He wagged his head, all the while stifling laughter. “Perhaps the court of House Avarus would enjoy having the upside down jester for entertainment.”
Lucullus’s face grew with anger.
“Now tell me, just what is it that’s supposed to happen so soon. What sort of catastrophic event should I be worried about? Can this ghost of yours read the heavens, and predict the weather from it?”
He thought about it for a moment, and realized that, if the ghost’s predictions were true, no one could do anything about it. “The ghost told me of a great storm, one in which I shall not perish in, but I shall be sent into the white, and brave the spiritual deserts.”
Though Pontius’s face was neutral, his confusion was immeasurable. He shot a glance at one of his men. “Tell the winemaker to stop contaminating the prisoners’ drinks. It seems to be eating away at their minds.”
“What I tell you is the truth. Believe it, or don’t; it makes no difference to me.”
Pontius sighed, and muttered under his breath. “I suppose those messengers traveled all the way out here just to tell me jokes.” He stomped around, and started rambling to himself. “Either those scouts are the biggest fools in all of Lucium, or they think I am. Perhaps I am a fool for taking them seriously. If this man is the biggest threat they could find…” He stopped his pacing. “Take him back to his cell. Maybe he can get another incoherent visit from the voices in his head.”
Lucullus spent the whole morning in anticipation of something miraculous. He began to understand some of the words spoken to him by the ghost. His hands and feet were indeed chained last night. And this is the day after such an event. The morning came and went; nothing.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
He took his food, and ate with Tiberius and Cato; not many of the other prisoners cared much to talk with him. He didn’t really know why, nor did he care why.
Cato reclined on the floor as he crunched on his bread. “Sounds like you had fun last night, Lucullus.”
“You could say that.”
He chuckled. “I guess we’ll see if your ghost friend was right about that storm, or whatever it is that’s supposed to happen. I seriously doubt that anyone will actually believe you, if you go telling them to prepare for some big storm; or that their freedom is at hand.”
“You and Tiberius are the only two I had planned on telling. When you see the signs, get out as fast as you can.”
Tiberius reflected on how the events compared to the ghost’s predictions. “Do you actually believe this will happen as the ghost has said?”
“I’m not sure what to believe just yet. I know that the first piece has fallen into place.”
Cato rolled his eyes. “Does the full moon have any bearing on your ghost’s predictions? It’s supposed to still be full tonight, the same as last night. At least, that’s what I’ve heard some guards and other inmates say.”
Tiberius shot him a look. “The sarcasm isn’t necessary, Cato.”
“Either way, just stay alert. I don’t know if I fully trust this ghost, yet. I think this will be a test to prove it.”
“I heard a supply caravan is supposed to arrive soon. I guess if we end up in the cold, their supplies might help us out.”
“At this point, anything is better than staying in this misery. But I wouldn’t go talking about raiding caravans, Tiberius. Certainly not under such a close eye, like we are right now.”
He shrugged. “Sounds like they don’t take your visitor that seriously. I don’t see why they would scrutinize—”
Cato fell over. “Did you feel that?”
Tiberius looked around. “Feel what.”
The ground began to rumble and shake; torches fell off of their stable spots on the walls. Every guard drew his sword, thinking it must be an invasion. Everyone struggled to maintain their footing, as well as their bearings. Several of the inmates went to hide in various corners and crevices within the main area, though some guards attempted to stop them.
The captain of the guards began barking orders as he stumbled his way to a railing to hold for support. “Put the prisoners back in their cells! Emergency lockdown!”
In the midst of the chaos Lucullus and Tiberius helped Cato to his feet. The three of them tried to remain out of the guards’ view, as was Lucullus’s suggestion.
“Well, looks like your ghost friend was right, Lucullus. Quite the storm you’ve got.” Cato barely got the words out before falling over again from another large tremor.
Tiberius pulled him up. “What’s the plan? How does this help anyone?”
“I’m not sure. I guess we’ll have to wait and see. I just know I’ll have to go through some kind of desert; or so the prediction goes.”
Cato sighed. “I guess the snow-covered tundra is basically a desert.”
When the next big tremor hit, a loud rumbling sound, along with faint screams were heard in the direction of the mines. Another tremor hit; this one collapsing walkways along the upper levels of the cell blocks. Then a third tremor hit, which caused a small tower along the outer wall of the fortress to collapse.
Cato darted his eyes around the room, noticing the panic of the guards. “I say we make a run for it. The guards won’t be able to deal with us and the chaos of the tremors.”
Tiberius shook his head. “That’s crazy. No one has ever escaped from here.”
Lucullus started to take off. “Well, we’re about to be the first ones. Let’s go.”
Tiberius was close to protesting, but refrained from it when he saw Cato take off after Lucullus. He started after him as well, but thought the whole plan was a terrible mistake.
Two guards stationed by the entrance to the mess hall tried to stop them, but were overwhelmed by the stature and strength of Lucullus and Tiberius; and Cato joining the fray only further sealed their fate. Another tremor struck as they were unlocking the door, causing several guards to trip over each other trying to get to the escapees.
Once the door was open, the three ran as fast as they could on the shaking ground. Alarm bells rang, mostly by themselves since the tremors shook their towers to the core. Archers along the walkways on the walls drew back arrows on their bows, only to miss as their aim became shaky; many simply dropping their arrows on the ground below. As the three burst through the doors into the courtyards of the facility, they were met with a brutal blizzard like no other. The chilling winds whipped against their faces, stinging worse than hot cinders flying from a blacksmith’s forge. In seconds, Lucullus’s patchy beard was white; as was Tiberius’s thick beard. Ice began to form along their beards. All of them shivered as the freezing air blew away any heat they had.
Lucullus prepared himself for a fight as a guard ran toward him in the snow, sword drawn. But the ground shook, and the guard was toppled. Seeing the guard struggling to get up in the deep snow, Lucullus hurried back to his feet, as he had also stumbled, and punched the guard in the jaw. As the guard coughed up teeth, Lucullus kicked him in the chest, and took his sword. He hurried to catch up with his new allies.
“This is no time for sparring!” Cato looked back, seeing Lucullus running up with a sword.
“Just thought I’d take a souvenir.” He practically had to shout over the howling winds, and sounds of stone and piles of snow collapsing around them.
Tiberius eyed up the front gates. “Enough with the bickering. Our freedom is just up ahead. We just need to make it past this bridge, and we’ll be in the home stretch.”
The three made as fast of a pace as they could manage in the deep snow. Fortunately, the near whiteout conditions made it almost impossible for the guards to see very well; it’s just a shame the blindness applied to them, too.
As the chaos unfolded outside, the prisoners inside took courage from the example of Lucullus and Cato, and some followed their path in an escape attempt. A massacre ensued as the inmates used anything they could to fight the guards. This worked as a good distraction as Lucullus and the other two began their crossing of the snow-covered bridge.
Watchmen from the front towers shouted toward a caravan that was approaching the entrance; warning them of the danger ahead.
“Heads up, lads: the bridge sounds like it’s close to collapse.” Tiberius narrowly dodged falling debris from a crumbing tower nearby.
“What about the guards at the gate?”
“Gate’s open. The guards can’t stop us.”
Another tremor came through, and Lucullus face-planted into the snow.
Tiberius looked back in horror. “Lucullus, the bridge is falling! Get out of there!”
Lucullus struggled to his feet when the bridge crumbled around him, causing him to fall into the rocks below.