The Start
Previously
They pushed me from the room (which had finally taken notice) and took me into a narrow room dominated by a large table. The walls were painted a light grey color, and the ceiling lights were a bright blue. At the end of the table was another man wearing the yellow-black mask. “Hello, Jack,” he said as I entered. He had a deeper voice than any voice I’d ever heard. I thought for a moment that he had not spoke to me, that someone else had, but I quickly realized that it had been him.
Halfway on the left side was Arthur, his face against the table and his eyes open and vacant. I thought for a moment, wondering what was so familiar about his face, and drew two conclusions. It looked like mine, in a strange sort of way, like I might if I were older. And the glaze in his eyes, the empty way they looked into the air reminded me of his wife’s eyes, after I had cut her. He was dead.
“I had thought it would be impossible to find one Carentan here, in all places, but here you are,” the man at the end of the table said. He drew the gun that Arthur had used against the lake monster, and pointed it at me. “I would kill you now, except that I am not required to. We only needed one sacrifice to Nemo, two would be too much I think.” He looked at the three who had brought me in, and their masks nodded. The man at the head of the table looked back at me, “we will keep you here, until we find a use for you.”
I did not say anything, and I think that was the best thing I could have done.
The man at the head of the table turned to the two men who had brought me in, “Take him into our first cell, and give him this other Carentan for company.”
I was taken away from the room and dragged across the now-empty barroom towards a door which opened on stairs. The stairs moved through a ripped opening in the steel floor into a dark room that was lit by a single candle. I could only glimpse three walls; where the final one should be was darkness that the candle did not penetrate.
I was tossed towards the dark part and lost my footing, landing in an uneven sprawl. I heard Arthur’s corpse tossed to the ground, and then looked behind me to see the guards exiting up the stairs. Arthur’s body was placed nearer to the candle than I, so I saw its outline clearly.
No less than thirty seconds after the guards had left did I hear a voice that startled me, “A new cellmate? Two new cell mates?”
The voice I had first thought had come from Arthur; and it had sounded slightly like him at first. But I realized that the voice had come from the darkness, and had echoed all around the room until it seemed to come from everywhere. “I am the only one who is alive,” I announced.
“So they killed him? How dead is he? Will he come to his feet, and try to take us with him into Hell? Where do the dead go, with God dead?” The voice commanded respect, and was whistled with the sound of age. I imagined him as someone with a long grey beard, and sunken eyes. I feared that he was as dead as Arthur, and that he had risen just as his fears instructed that Arthur may. And I realize that this was the third time I had ever heard the word “God” being used, and I had already gleaned the meaning.
“He’s passed. Forever, I think.”
“Good, that the dead may stay dead and not feign it. The living have no time for such foolery.” His voice wavered.
“I’m sorry, I’m afraid I don’t follow you?” I asked. I assumed that he had a point; that there was some conclusion he was running towards.
“The dead are oft rising from below our city, the dead of the city’s builders, trying to retake their homes and kill us all. If Nemo hadn’t arrived I don’t think we would have lived, but with Nemo taking God’s throne, I believe we are all doomed. As doomed as if the dead had claimed us—or merciful heavens above and brimstone and fire below—made us to join them. I’ve oft’n heard it said that they claim their enemies and turn them to their cause.”
“Who is Nemo?” I asked.
“Are you an interloper?” He asked.
“No,” I said. “I am an explorer. I’m searching for something, but I don’t know what.”
“I was an explorer for God’s might but I was left behind when he shone himself upon me,” the old man explained. “I found it once, I think, but it fell away from me as I reached for it, and now I can no longer see His beauty.” I heard him sniff, and imagined a tear rolling down his wrinkled features.
“But who is Nemo?” I persisted.
“Nemo is the murderer, he who killed His glory,” he said.
“God is dead?” I asked.
“To me and to any mortheist you find. You are an interloper, upon Naureth’s soil, if you do not know who Nemo is, and you haven’t heard the news of His death. I do not think any less of you for it. Nemo has placed you here as well as placed me here.” His voice grew strong again, “We are allies, no matter what you believe.”
“I don’t believe in anything,” I said, suddenly feeling empty.
A new voice, but still an old one, “If we are truly both Carentan, then we believe the same thing.”
I darted backwards like a spider, crawling into the shadows, as Arthur’s corpse began to move.
“But… You’re dead!” I yelled.
Arthur’s form turned to look at me. I continued to back up until I brushed up against another figure, the one who I assumed I had been talking to. “So he is coming to take us!” He shouted.
Except when the old man spoke, I realized that I hadn’t backed up into him, but someone else. I yelped at this realization, and they grabbed me and felt for my face I tried to struggle for a second, but I felt lips placed against mine, and I experienced the first kiss I’d ever had. It was long, I suppose, and it quieted me.
“Hush, or else the guards will come,” she whispered. Everyone was silent, as though they had also been silenced by her touch. She lingered close enough that I still felt her warmth, and I admit that I stayed by for nothing else. I desperately wanted to put my arm around her, or hug her, I so desired human contact in the dark room, but I kept myself from doing so, even though she had been so forward with me.
“Who are you?” I whispered.
“It’s not important; you’ll never see me again. Just know that I am a Carentan too, and they also thought I had died. They may kill you, but if they don’t do it exactly right, you’ll come right back.” It was then I realized that Carentan was not a last name, as I had supposed, but a sort of title or classification. I had initially felt guilty for the kiss she had given me, that I had feared that it was in-family, but it was impossible to me for us to have all been related, and my fears were put to rest.
Arthur, who must have heard us, said, “I didn’t know I possessed such ability. What do we do now?”
Lady Carentan waited for a second and I heard her breath catch in her throat. The door to our cellar opened, and light poured in, blinding me. I tried to turn to see her, but I was still unable to make anything out. “They come,” I heard her say, and then I felt hands around my wrists.
I heard the old man grunt as he was lifted up as well, and we were taken away from the room. As we neared the door, I looked down and saw a woman’s form, very vaguely in the dark, but the door shut before I could discern anything.
__________
I was pulled through the bar room, which was now quite dark. I looked at the front door, in order to gauge how far I’d have to run before making it outside, and noticed that it was slightly ajar. I looked at its edges and saw that it was dark outside, and I was confused to see that there was a night-time for the greater chamber in which this town of escaped slaves was held.
My guards still had their masks from before, and I was still unable to discern one from another. I did notice that their clothing varied, and perhaps that was how they told one from another. Once I glimpsed the eyes inside one of the masks, and saw that they were bloodshot, and wide.
I was pulled back to the room with the long table, and this time there was no one at the end of it. I was led to the far end and instructed to sit in the chair, and then they left, leaving me in the dark. I did not see where the old man had been taken, and in fact had not even seen him being taken anywhere at all.
I wondered what my fate was. Would they kill me as they had tried to Arthur? His survival indicated to me that I had nothing to fear from an attempt at “sacrificing me”, as it had not worked on the woman either. What I feared more than that was some sort of torture. What if they had known that we were not dying; had they overheard the commotion in the cell and had brought me up in recompense? Would they relentlessly make wretched that which they could not kill?
I decided to escape once more, as I had escaped from my room, and had escaped from Livingston. Was there some ability that I, as a Carentan, possessed; that allowed me to slip away from any holding area that I was placed?
I rose from my chair, ready to test my hypothesis, when the door at the far end of the room opened. In the dark I witnessed the same mask as earlier, but now it was all black. He wore a long black cloak, so that I saw him as a long triangle with his head up on the tip and boots at the bottom angles. He stepped in, and closed the door behind him.
I sat back down, and saw him pull a candle out, which he lit. What puzzled me was that it seemed to have been done from the end of his right index finger, so that when he was done, there trailed a thin line of smoke. In the reddish orange light I saw that his mask was steel. He stood facing me for some time, before pulling a bottle from his coat. He set it on the table, and then rolled it to me. I picked it up, confused, and then he pointed to the candle. He made a motion to drink it, and then pointed to the candle.
“What? This is probably poison,” I said. “You expect me to trust you, after you killed Arthur?”
“We both know that Arthur is not dead,” he finally spoke.
“Why not tell me how to drink it then? Instead of gesturing as though you were mute?”
“You fool!” He shouted, and knocked the candle out with his hand. Immediately some forms entered the room, and pulled swords out to attack. I expected them to run past him after me, but they instead engaged him.
I did not see his first move, for his back was to me and his cloak obscured his actions from me, but there was a gasp and then the two assailants dropped to the floor, hands empty and wounds in their throats.
“Run!” He shouted to me.
I leapt from my chair as quickly as I could and pushed past him. I glimpsed behind me and saw the swords he held dripping blood. He strode after me, and was then distracted by two more guards who came from the sides of the bar room to attack him.
I ran, content with my escape. I pushed through the front door and found myself surrounded by the shanties that I had witnessed before, except left in almost total darkness. I broke into a run to get away, moving between the roughly built structures as deftly as I could, keeping my balance as I threaded the walls. And I was then left alone, amid the night. I stopped running, and wondered where the light came from. I looked up and saw soft lights dotting the ceiling, and noticed them moving. It was like there were stars above. I did not see a moon, however.
I staggered then, feeling lost. Here I was, I saw, however many miles away from home that I was.
I had been sold into slavery, and then, I thought, escaped it. I entrusted myself to someone who was like me (the first I’d ever known), and then, even before the day had ended, discovered that there was yet another. From there I could suppose there were countless of me in the world, as I had met so many in such a short amount of time. And then I was alone, finally, without anyone else. I’d escaped a religion, after learning of another, and I was left with a bottle full of a liquid, given to me by someone who might have saved my life.
I was at a great moment in my life, I realized. Here was a cross between the past and the future. Whatever journey I made for myself would begin here.
I decided that I would seek out those who were like me, and then decided that the best place to start would be in this town I had found, a town of escaped slaves.
My first goal would be to free Arthur and the woman from their cell underneath the cultists’ bar. Set to this goal, I realized that I did not remember where it was, and was crushed.
I looked at the bottle, which I still had clasped in my hand, and unscrewed the cap. I hoped it was liquor, like I had heard existed, which was said to destroy pain and suffering in place of fermented wheat or bacteria filled decay.
I emptied it with the speed of someone who has not had water in a very long time, as I had not, and discovered that it was no liquor that had a taste other than water. Along with my thirst, I discovered a great hunger.
I think that I should have given up on anything then, but for a small voice in the back of my mind, “Turn around, and walk back.”
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