Stupid am I?
Tarrant had fallen for the bait Gwilym gave him by looking at the one part of
his body that was practically immune to pain. Since his leg had healed he had
found that he had almost no feeling below where the bone had protruded. This
had caused him a lot of problems in the past like stumbling from having no
feeling in his foot or coming home with blood streaming down his leg from an
injury at work he hadn’t felt at the time. But it had helped him now. He had
seen torture and knew how to react. The hard part was behaving like the pain
had caused him to pass out. Fortunately his acting had been good enough to fool
Tarrant. He had bought himself some time.
He heard the men come back. One at a time, they passed by
him grunting with exertion as they passed through the burial chamber and down
the tunnel. Then they returned, moving easier. They must be emptying containers of dirt from the other passage. Is
there another chamber?
Gwilym slouched, held up by the ropes, drooling saliva down
his chin and breathing as shallow as possible. Every so often, one of the men,
probably Tarrant, opened one of his eyes so he kept them staring straight up
under his lids. The digging went on. Gwilym relied on his sense of hearing to
determine what was happening. Two men were carrying the dirt away while one dug
at the end of the other passage. After what must have been hours, Gwilym heard
a commotion and the men all converged at the end of the new passage. He
couldn’t make out their words but he knew something interesting had occurred.
About quarter of an hour later, one of the henchmen, Gwilym
could recognize their footsteps by now, walked past Gwilym and crawled down the
tunnel with a load of dirt. He didn’t return in the usual amount of time. Why? The same thought must have occurred
to Tarrant and the other man, because they came into the chamber and called
down the tunnel to Brendan.
“Comin’!” they heard, but Gwilym knew it wasn’t Brendan’s
voice. Not that he knew Brendan’s voice. But he did know Fred’s voice, even
when disguised.
Tarrant was not fooled. He and the other henchman snatched
up the crossbows from the wagon and backed up to the entrance of the passage.
Gwilym slowly opened his eyes to a small slit. He could see down the tunnel,
the hair of a man lurching forward. Cutting his eyes to the passage he could
see that both men were aiming their crossbows directly at this head. Fred was
doomed.
“They have crossbows!” yelled Gwilym, in an attempt to save
his friend. One crossbow twanged and the bolt flew forward, sticking directly
into the top of the skull. One more time the head moved forward, into the light
of the chamber, blood leaking out of the downward facing mouth. The other
crossbow twanged and the second bolt imbedded itself next to the first.
The man fell flat on the ground of the chamber. The face
turned sideways and relief rushed through Gwilym as he saw the face of Brendan,
not Fred at all. The man was missing an arm.
Then Gwilym saw Fred rushing out of the tunnel over the dead
man, wielding an axe. Tarrant pushed his other henchman in front of him as he
scooted down the other passage. The henchman dropped his crossbow, useless now
that the bolt had been fired and picked up a shovel to defend himself. The two
men grappled and swung short strokes in these tight quarters, neither getting
any advantage over the other. Then Gwilym saw Bleddyn pushing past the dead
body and stepping over to him. “Da!” he cried. He pulled a knife from his belt
and started working on Gwilym’s knots. “Hurry!” yelled Gwilym, helpless as Fred
fought for his life.
As Bleddyn cut the ropes away, Gwilym saw that the
henchman’s fighting experience was winning over Fred’s better strength and
weapon. Fred was wearing down from hard strokes with the handle of the spade,
undefended when Fred concentrated on the sharp metal end.
Gwilym’s head and feet were loose so he stood up to try and
help Fred in the fight. Bleddyn was still cutting away the ropes binding his
hands when, seeing an opening, Gwilym kicked out at the henchman’s knee and
crumpled it backwards. The man screamed and reached down for his knee as it
bent the wrong way, and he fell to the side. Fred swung the axe, cutting
through the man’s neck and deep into his spine. Blood spurted all over the
chamber.
Bleddyn cut the last of the cords binding Gwilym’s hands. As
blood rushed into the tissues, incredible pain accompanied it, and Gwilym had
to sit down. “Wait for me Fred and we’ll get Tarrant together. He’s gone into
the other chamber.”
“No Gwilym! He’s gone out th’other way. There’s another hole
in this hill. I saw it open as I came near. Light came out of th’hill. We’ve
got to go after him!”To read the entire first draft in one shot, click here:
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