Madman Run

Chapter Eleven

The three of them were in position by nightfall.

Blade sat in the fork of an oak tree 30 feet from their camp and stared at the fire. Eventually one of them must creep out and add fuel to the flames, but for now, thanks to the strategic placement of their backpacks at the south end of the lean-to, the camp gave every impression of being occupied. It had been his idea to stack the backpacks at the one end to block the view of anyone, or anything, approaching from that direction. If he was correct in his hunch, if the creatures followed the same path tonight as last night, then his trap might work.

He glanced down at the ground 12 feet below and shifted to alleviate a cramp in his lower back. All day he’d been bothered by pain from his shoulders to his hips due to the beating he’d sustained. He guessed that Elphinstone had done the pounding. Only the hulking brute possessed the strength necessary to bruise his body even through the backpack he’d worn at the time.

Blade gazed off to his right at the thicket screening Geronimo and again to his left at the base of a tree where Hickok lay hidden. Neither one was visible.

His simple plan called for staying concealed until either the mysterious wood nymphs or someone from the castle put in an appearance. If the former showed up, he’d try to capture one. If Morlock or Elphinstone appeared, he’d wait and see what they did before deciding on a course of action.

Cradling the Marlin in his arms, he settled down to spend the night if need be.

Blade mentally reviewed his performance in the castle and concluded he had a lot to learn yet about being a Warrior. He never should have gone after Endora by himself or let her lure him into an ambush. The mistake might have proven fatal.

And there was another mystery. Given Morlock’s hatred of outsiders, and since, as Morlock claimed, he believed his wife was being attacked, why did Morlock use a net and a chair instead of a gun or knives?

There were so many questions and so few answers.

Another full moon arced above the horizon, a timeless celestial observer of the unfolding of human history.

An hour went by. Two.

Blade half-expected there wouldn’t be activity of any kind until near midnight, so he was surprised when, idly glancing to the southwest, he spied pale figures gliding through the trees toward the camp.

The nymphs!

Excited, he tensed and watched the three or four dozen creatures rapidly near his position. They were tittering and prancing, the same as last night, remarkably light on their feet. He marveled at their grace and ghostly aspect, keeping as still as stone until they were almost to the oak tree.

Recognition brought shock. Blade’s gray eyes narrowed as he realized they were human, near-naked men and women whose skin resembled the finest china. They were all over six feet tall but skinny as saplings.

Members of both sexes wore skimpy leather shorts, nothing else, and the womens’ breasts swayed as they ran. All were grinning or whispering excitedly.

Blade focused on a pair almost directly below him, a man and a woman standing a foot apart. He quietly looped the Marlin over his right shoulder, coiled his legs and leaped.

Somehow, the woman sensed his presence and looked up.

The youth landed behind them, bending at the knees to absorb his weight, and sprang, tackling both of them around the legs and bearing them to the ground. They felt incredibly light, as if they weighed a mere 90 or 100 pounds, and offered no resistance except for a startled cry from the woman.

At the same time Hickok and Geronimo rose from hiding and tried to capture others, but the rest of the band was already fleeing in stark panic into the forest.

Blade lay on top of the two he’d caught, neither of whom so much as twitched, astounded by their docile behavior. “I won’t hurt you,” he informed them. “Do you understand?”

There was no reply.

“Do you understand?” Blade repeated sternly.

“We do,” the woman said in a high, musical voice.

“Shhhhh,” said the man. “You know we’re not allowed to talk to outers.”

Perplexed, Blade eased his grip. “All right. You speak English. Good. Now listen closely. I’m going to sit up and let go of you. First I want your word that you won’t try to escape.”

“We can’t give it, sir,” the woman said.

“Why not?”

“Because our masts have told us we must get away if ever we’re caught by outers.”

The man looked at the woman. “Hush, Tabitha, you know better.”

Blade clamped a hand on a wrist of each one and rose to his knees.

“Okay. If you won’t give your word, we’ll do this the hard way.” He stood, pulling them up, but being careful not to yank too hard for fear of yanking their arms from their sockets. “What’s your name?” he asked the male.

The man said nothing.

“Tell me or else,” Blade bluffed, glowering appropriately.

“Selwyn,” the man blurted. “My name is Selwyn.”

Blade glanced over his left shoulder and saw his friends returning empty-handed from the chase. “Come with me,” he said, walking toward the camp.

Both prisoners abruptly walked, dragging their heels and tugging in vain to free themselves.

“Please, sir, no,” Tabitha exclaimed.

“Not near the fire,” Selwyn stated in sheer dread.

“Why not?” Blade demanded, stopping.

“The fire hurts our eyes terribly, sir,” Selwyn said. “If we get too close, the brightness will damage our eyes.”

“It’s only a campfire,” Blade noted.

“Our eyes are very sensitive, sir,” Tabitha explained. “We can’t even come out during the day.”

Her plaintive tone impressed Blade. He studied their fine features, their straw-colored hair and almost colorless eyes, and realized the reason they were so pale. They spent their entire life in the dark, moving about only at night. But what did they do during the day? Where did they live? “Don’t worry,” he assured them. “I won’t take you any nearer to the fire.”

“Thank you, sir. You’re very kind,” Tabitha said.

The gunfighter and the Blackfoot halted and regarded the pair intently.

“I’m sorry, pard,” Hickok said. “I’ll never doubt your word again. These things are livin’ fairies, just like you said.”

“We are not things, sir,” Tabitha declared. “We are serfs.”

“Serfs,” Hickok repeated. “Like back in the Middle Ages?”

“What are the Middle Ages, sir?” Tabitha asked.

“It was back in ancient times when men wore tin cans into battle and women went around throwin’ their hair from balconies.”

Tabitha and Selwyn were completely confounded.

“How did women throw their hair, sir?” she asked.

“Pay no attention to him,” Geronimo interjected. “His grasp of history leaves a lot to be desired.”

“Where did you acquire the name serfs?” Blade probed.

“I don’t know, sir,” Tabitha responded. “We’ve always been called serfs, I believe. My mother and her mother were both serfs. And for our lives we serve our masts loyally.”

“There’s that word again. Who are the masts?”

“Why, those who provide our clothes, our home and the food. They are the great ones who know all there is to know,” Tabitha said, then added quickly, “sir.”

“Do you mean masters?” Geronimo asked.

“Masts. Masters. They’re the same thing, sir.”

“It’s slang,” Blade realized, wondering what to inquire about next. “You say your people have been serving your masters for generations. Who are your masts?”

“Like I said, sir, the great ones.”

“Where do the great ones live?”

Tabitha nodded at the castle. “Why, there, sir, in the great house.”

The three youths exchanged meaningful looks.

“So Morlock, Endora and Elphinstone are the masters,” Blade said slowly.

“Oh, yes!” Tabitha declared. “Master Morlock is the greatest of all.”

Selwyn made a clucking sound. “And he will be very mad if he learns you are telling these outers all about us.”

The statement produced stark fear on Tabitha’s face. “But what else can I do?”

“Don’t worry about Morlock,” Blade told her. “We’ll make sure he doesn’t do anything to you for talking to us.”

“Do you know him, sir?”

“Yes. In fact, we were guests in the great house today,” Blade stated, stretching the truth in order to elicit more information.

“You were, sir?” Tabitha said, delighted at the news. “Why, then, you must not be outers after all.”

“What the dickens are outers?” Hickok asked.

“Outsiders, sir, such as yourself.”

“You mean those who come from outside this valley?” Blade asked.

“Exactly, sir. Only we call this valley the Domain.”

“Have there been outers in the Domain before?”

“Yes, sir. Every now and then some have shown up.”

“Did they stay long?”

“I wouldn’t know, sir. Usually they are invited into the great house, and we never see or hear of them again.”

Blade frowned. Yet another sinister revelation to add to the growing body of evidence incriminating Morlock and his clan. How long had all of this been going on? Since the war? He now had proof that some force of slavery was being practiced, and slavery was abhorrent to every cherished principle of the Family. As a Warrior, he had a moral obligation to confront evil wherever it reared its wicked head, and from all he’d uncovered so far it was flourishing in Castle Orm.

“Now would you please let us go, sir?” Tabitha requested. “Our masts will be very upset with us if we don’t get to work soon.”

“Work?”

“Yes, sir. In the fields. Every night they let us out to till the crops and weed and water the garden.”

Suddenly several mysteries were cleared up. All those naked footprints were left by the serfs as they went about their noctural business at the beck and call of Morlock and company. And so many crops were being cultivated because the food had to feed all the serfs, not just the freaky threesome in the castle. One of her comments, though, perplexed him.

“Where do the serfs live during the day?”

“In the Underground, sir.”

“Where might that be?”

“In the levels under the great house, sir.”

Another puzzle cleared up, Blade reflected. The reason Endora confronted them on the stairs was to prevent them from descending farther into the levels where the serfs lived. “When we were in the great house today, we happaned to hear someone screaming and wailing. Do you know who that was?”

Sorrow etched the faces of both serfs.

“Yes, sir,” Tabitha said. “That was poor Tweena. Master Elphinstone punished her for coming back here by herself last night.”

“Explain.”

“When we spotted your campfire last night, all of us came for a look when Grell went off to relieve himself. You saw us and we hid. Remember, sir?”

“I remember,” Blade said. “But who is Grell? We haven’t met him yet.”

Selwyn shuddered and gazed into the surrounding darkness. “You don’t want to meet him, sir. He’s the immortal one.”

Blade was confused again. “Skip him for the moment. Tell me about Tweena.”

“She wanted to sneak back for a second look, sir,” Tabitha explained.

“We tried to talk her out of it, but she went anyway, alone. You spotted her and chased her to the portal, and Master Morlock caught her. Naturally, the great ones saw fit to punish her.”

“They did, huh?”

“Oh, yes sir. They found out that all of us snuck away for a peek at you and decided to teach us the error of our ways by using Tweena as an example.”

The statement rang false in Blade’s ears. He suspected she was quoting words spoken by one of the great masters, probably Morlock. “What did they do to Tweena?”

Tabitha lowered her gaze and spoke in a whisper. “Horrible things, sir.

Grell, Master Elphinstone and Master Morlock all took turns, beating and torturing her.” She paused. “Tweena is in heaven now.”

“They made us watch, sir,” Selwyn said. “It was the most terrible thing I’ve ever seen, even worse than the time Grell ate Cathmor.”

Blade wasn’t certain he’d heard correctly. “This Grell ate one of the serfs?”

“Yes, sir. Cathmor tried to leave the Domain, and that’s strictly forbidden by our masts.”

“What the heck have we stumbled into?” Hickok spoke up. “Who ever heard of killin’ a woman for takin’ a look at strangers? And folks eatin’ other folks is downright sick.”

Geronimo fixed his eyes on Blade’s. “You know what we have to do, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“We can’t let these atrocities continue.”

“I know.”

Hickok nodded. “Now you’re really talkin’. Let’s go find Morlock so I can shove both Colt barrels up his nose and see if his noggin is bulletproof.”

“First things first,” Blade said, turning to Tabitha. “There’s something I don’t understand. If Tweena was punished to keep the serfs away from our camp, why did all of you return tonight?”

The dainty woman’s mood changed from sadness to giddy elation in the space of a heartbeat. She giggled and stated proudly, “We wanted to see you again. Grell heard an animal in the woods and went to check if it was dangerous. He protects us, you see, sir.”

“And eats you,” Blade reminded her. “But go on.”

“As soon as he was out of sight, we dropped our tools and ran over here.

We expected to be back before he returned. We’re much faster than Grell, sir.”

“And eats you,” Blade reminded her. “But go on.”

“And what about Tweena? Didn’t her death impress you at all?”

“Yes, sir. It was horrible. I told you so.”

“Yet all the serfs came anyway?”

Tabitha giggled again. “We like to break the rules. It’s fun.”

The inane smile creasing the woman’s thin lips gave Blade cause for concern. “In other words, none of the serfs were fazed one bit by Tweena’s death?”

“Not really, sir. No.”

“When Cathmor was eaten, how did you feel about it?”

“Well, sir, the masts only did it to teach us a lesson. And they teach us lessons because they love us.”

Hickok snorted. “Did I miss something here?”

Before anyone else could speak, a tremendous roar shattered the stillness of the forest, a roar the three youths had heard during their first night in the woods.

“It’s Grell!” Tabitha screeched.