Tales of Ravenloft

Sight and Sound

"Open the door!" I cried as I pounded on the massive, metal-bound aperture that separated me from my purpose; neither the wood nor the brass gimmals ornamenting its ebon surface moved. "Open, I say!" I shouted, my voice rising almost to a scream. "Open in the name of justice!" Again I pounded on the portal with rage.

Lightning cracked behind me, silhouetting the black rain drenching this land. The heavens rumbled back — the expansive, pernicious murmurs of an alien sky I had quickly come to hate — and jags of lightning snapped again, momentarily illuminating the cold, forbidding stone of Castle Blaustein. I stared up at the double doors before me, which were fully the height of two men, and beyond to the walls surrounding the citadel's entrance. Snarling stone gargoyles, tortuous crenellations of slate, and shadows of black iron remained branded on my inner eye after the flash departed.

Rain poured down in sheets, engulfing me, soaking my woolen overcoat. It clung unpleasantly to my fevered flesh. I raised my bloodied fists high above my head and glared up at the monolith before me, oblivious to the rain pelting my face and eyes. With a feral moan, I hurled myself at the doors, crying aloud," Hear me, Bluebeard!"

Lightning responded above me, filling the night sky with white light and sound, nearly blinding and deafening me in its turbulent response. But my senses were abruptly riveted by the doors before me: They were moving.

My eyes bulged in their sockets as I strained to catch that minute movement. I know that only seconds must have passed before the doors swung open to grant my admittance, but time seemed somehow suspended then. I heard the creak of those massive doors swing back upon badly oiled hinges. I saw the faint glimmer of light flicker on the gimmals marking the doors as they swung inward. I smelled the dank decay of stale rushes and rancid candle tallow as the warm air within the castle greeted me; it was a false warmth, unpleasant to me even in my cold and sodden state.

I stepped forward immediately, intent on the manservant lurking beside the door, and entered the keep. "Show me to your master at once," I demanded imperiously.

The creature closed the doors behind me, sparing me not a single glance until he had done so. Then he turned his gaunt frame toward me, squared his shoulders, and nodded with a dignity I had not expected in this backwoods country. "My lord will see you now," was his monotone, tight-lipped response. For an instant his gaze met mine, then slid away, but not before I caught the yellow gleam of hatred for a man his better. He picked up a candelabrum resting upon a nearby table and proceeded across the hall's granite floor.

I followed the manservant through the castle's foyer, the size of which was utterly lost in the feeble light of two candles, to an expansive stair that curved upward then split and flowed into separate hallways. My guide took the left branch, and here the dim shadows receded before the light. I gave little thought to the thick carpets we traversed, the muted tapestries periodically adorning the finely papered walls, or the pieces of furniture placed here and there in the long passages. I cared not at all for the glimpses of silver and gilt I caught via the candlelight as we walked this otherwise unlit abode. My thoughts were possessed by the man I would soon confront, by the tales the villagers had told me, by the man who had —

Abruptly, the manservant stopped before an ornately carved door. He threw it open, stepped inside, and announced," My lord, the gentleman you wished to see is here."

I strode forward swiftly, knocking the servant aside in my haste, and halted just inside the room. In my heightened emotional state, my senses were acutely attuned. In a single moment I took in the vast number of books, the cheerful fire in the grate to one side of the large room, and the comfortable, elegant surroundings. My gaze slid to and locked on the man slowly rising from behind a desk at the far end of the room. The valet proceeded to light more candles, bringing the dark room to more sensible illumination. I strode forward, impatient words forming on my lips.

"Lord Henredon, I presume?" interjected the man behind the desk before I could speak. His words — pleasantly spoken, with a casual, intimate intonation — took me aback. I paused before him, inexplicably disarmed by his easy, familiar manner. I had told no one of my real name in this land; had Lorel. .? My eyes narrowed.

My hesitation was slight, however, and I regained my composure immediately. I bowed my head, pausing a hair shy of insolence, and said," And Lord Bluebeard — I presume?" His left eyebrow arched in amusement, and his red, full lips twitched. His beard, as I had been told by the villagers, was indeed a shade of black with highlights that waxed blue in the light. He was a man of my height, though he easily outweighed me by nearly half my weight. His features were bulbous and dissipated, and I was suddenly sickened at the thought of his fleshy lips violating Lorel. His eyes, however, were alight with a cunning I knew instinctively to be that of a most dangerous man. He waved his hand — fat and pampered, with rings on three fingers — toward a chair, but I declined with an icy smile. Again his full lips twitched; he fell backward into the huge wing chair behind him, his great girth encompassed by the even larger seat. The manservant lit a remaining candelabrum and stood behind his master.

Bluebeard gazed at me and said," You are very much like your sister, Henredon. "He smirked. "You have her eyes. "His fat red hand smoothed his embroidered waistcoat, and his watch fob jingled.

I leaned forward slowly, splaying my hands across the intricate parquetry of the desk between us. I responded tightly," You are mistaken, sir, as my sister was adopted when I was fourteen. "I smiled back at him smoothly. "But that is neither here nor there, Bluebeard. What matters, of course, is Lorel. Where is she? I've come far to visit her, and I'd like to see her immediately. "I kept my voice cool and my gaze bland.

The man's expression did not change, save for a passing flicker of his left brow. He returned my look, meeting my eye measure for measure, but I did not yield. Then Bluebeard gestured with one ringed finger toward my hands. "Pray sit down, Henredon. Your coat is dripping upon my table."

I raised my chin at his tone, but to take offense would be churlish. I nodded stiffly and said," As you wish," as I sat in the wing chair behind me. Not quite as large or as elaborate as Bluebeard's own chair, it was nevertheless well padded, and the cushioning was welcome to my fatigued muscles. But I resolutely pushed away the memory of my long journey and turned to the matter at hand.

"My sister is here in this castle," I stated. "You have spirited her away from her home, Bluebeard, and I would speak with her."

Again that raising of his left brow, which I began to believe was a habitual manner with him. "Would you now?" He drawled the words, though elegantly. I was finding his speech and mannerisms sharply at odds with his appearance, for at first impression Bluebeard had struck me as a coarse and ill-bred man — a view that warred with his gracious words and abode.

I allowed myself a cursory glance about the room. The walls were lined from floor to vaulted ceiling with books. Inside the hearth, the fire cackled merrily, lending a welcome warmth to my chilled bones. The rug beneath my feet was thick and luxurious, its pattern intricate and many colored. Ponderous rosewood furniture completed the stolid tone of gentility and breeding. My eyes flicked past the silver and gilt candelabra and returned to the books. The scholar in me yearned to explore them, but I was not here in that capacity; I was here as a brother to find my sister — and perhaps, the gods forbid, to avenge her. When I had learned of the man with whom Lorel had eloped, I was caught in an emotion so deep, in a pain and rage so encompassing, it had carried me forward on this desperate journey. A spasm passed through my jaw, and it was with the taste of blood upon my tongue that I returned to my host.

I folded my hands, steepling two fingers as I did so, and stared at Bluebeard. "Yes, I would speak with my sister now," I drawled as slowly as he," or I will have to believe that something has. . befallen her. "I smiled icily, then arched my brow in imitation. "And I cannot believe — as the townspeople would have me — that this wife, too, has met with some. . misfortune, can I?" His smiled reply was every bit as cool as mine. "But of course not, Lord Henredon. "He laughed shortly, glancing away. "I can assure you, sir, my wife Lorel has met with no such. . misfortune, as you call it — certainly nothing of the sort that befell my previous wives. "His lips twitched.

Inwardly something constricting my chest loosened. Perhaps I had arrived in time to show Lorel the truth, to free her from this monster. Admittedly, the tales I had heard of Bluebeard warred with the image of the elegant gentleman sitting before me, but I could not discount my belief that he would soon grow tired of Lorel and that death would befall her as had his previous wives.

"Then you surely have no objection to my seeing Lorel," I said smoothly. I heard the sudden catch in my voice at my sister's name, and I prayed that Bluebeard had not.

He cocked his head to one side, as if considering my request, then gestured forward his manservant. "I have been remiss, Lord Henredon, in my duties as a host. Please, allow me to offer you some refreshment. "His man returned, carrying a silver platter upon which rested two snifters of cognac.

Gratefully I accepted one, though I was determined to sip it but slowly. I leaned back in my chair as the fiery liquid slipped down my throat. "Lord Bluebeard," I said firmly," I would see my sister now."

The man spread his hands wide, then stroked his silken beard with one, his gaze returning to me. "Ah, but I must tell you, sir, that I do have some objections to your seeing my wife."

My eyes narrowed. "What, pray tell — "I could not keep the sardonicism from my voice "-could those be? "

"Your insinuations regarding the. . untimely deaths of my previous wives, for one," Bluebeard responded blandly.

I took a sip of the cognac, locking eyes with the man before me, and said slowly, "Sir, my insinuations are merely that — they are hardly accusations." I grimaced. "You have but to let me see Lorel, to speak with her, and I will know that you have been subjected to slander and false innuendo. "Some nerve inside my mouth twitched, and I bit my lip. I did not blink. "However, if you do not produce my sister, Lord Bluebeard, I will be forced to believe you to be a murderer and a madman. As such, I would kill you. "This time my smile was slight, though filled with the resolve that burned in my heart.

Bluebeard's brows both rose as he cocked his head. Then he nodded slightly and murmured," And if I allow my wife to see you?"

I leaned forward. "Then I shall ask her to come away with me this very night, Bluebeard, for you are a monster!" I cried, unable to restrain myself further.

Abruptly the man threw back his head and roared. One meaty red fist pounded the desk, knocking over his drink, and coarse laughter filled the room. I felt my face flush, and I struggled for composure. When his laughter subsided, he stood, walked around the desk, and sat in the chair next to me. He leaned forward, his elbows resting upon his knees and his girth spilling out of the confines of the chair. His gaze was steady and even amused, though now tinged with a malice that matched the darkness of his beard.

"I find I cannot allow that, Lord Henredon," he demurred, the mask of elegance once more in place. He tidied a turned-over ruffle of one cuff. "I cannot have you take my beloved Lorel, leave my home, and spread such. . slanders about me. "One indigo brow arched upward.

I gritted my teeth and then, with slow, ineffable care, I leaned toward Bluebeard and gripped his velvet lapels with my hands; I saw his eyes widen at the affront I was committing. Then, with a violent effort I hauled him to his feet. I tightened my grip on Bluebeard's lapels, catching some of his corpulent flesh as I did so. Bluebeard winced, then shook his head at his man, moving toward us. The valet subsided. My host's expression was remarkably unconcerned, his brow unfurrowed and his eyes clear. And did I dare believe that his infuriating little smile still played about his fleshy lips?

Bluebeard tapped my straining knuckles with his hands and said, "Henredon! Is there really the need for this? Surely we can talk about this like gentlemen?"

Nonplused, I could not speak. He stared at me coolly, with a bland expression loitering in his eyes. The scent of sandalwood and bayleaf toiletries that he used upon his person assailed my nostrils in these tight quarters, and I found myself struggling to believe that he was less than the gentleman he portrayed to be. But I did not let my hold on the larger man relax."

A gentleman would have let me see my sister by now," I said grimly, tightening my grip still further. This time he did not wince.

Bluebeard smiled thinly, his full lips compressing into a line. "An excellent point, Henredon, but I must make a point of my own in return. "He tapped my chest. "But first, a gentleman would not have his host in such a position, Lord Henredon. "A grimace of annoyance flashed across his face. "Please, this is a most ridiculous scene — will you sit down and let us discuss the matter. . like gentlemen?" His voice was silken and smooth to my ears, but still I did not yield. He continued," I can excuse your inappropriate actions as those of one who is overwrought by both fatigue and by the depth of his concern for his sister."

Reluctantly, I withdrew my hands. Bluebeard smoothed his clothing and silently gestured me to return to my seat. I did so shakily, rubbing my strained knuckles and watching Bluebeard as he leaned against his desk, one calfskin-booted leg crossing the other.

"Your point, Bluebeard?" I said shortly. "I am in no mood for any more of your civilities."

"My point is one that you have overlooked, sir," he drawled," and that is that perhaps Lorel wants to stay here with me."

I pressed my lips together. "Then I shall discover that for myself, Bluebeard. Let me see her!"

Bluebeard held up one hand, the rings twinkling in the candlelight. "Not so fast, Lord Henredon. You've accused me of being a murderer. Whether my wife leaves with you or no, you are likely to spread falsities about me. I cannot have that."

I bit my inner lip, and my brows drew together. I shook my head impatiently. "If Lorel chooses to leave with me, or if she convinces me that she is truly happy here, then, . despite my better judgment, I shall leave. Either way, I give you my word I shall never speak of you to anyone. "My eyes narrowed as I looked at the man lounging so casually before me.

"Oh, I believe that you say you would never speak of me, Henredon, but what do you offer by way of security? Why should I believe you?" His voice held a tinge of smugness that infuriated my already jangled nerves.

"Because I am a gentleman, and I give you my word," I said firmly.

"But I need more than that, Henredon. I need security."

"My word, Bluebeard," I replied coldly," is my bond. It is security enough."

The man laughed outright at that.

I leaped to my feet. "Call Lorel to us here, now, and let us settle this! I give you my oath, I shall never mention — "

"How?" Bluebeard snapped. The single syllable boomed through the room. "How can you give me that oath, Henredon?" This time it was he who grabbed me; one massive red hand clutched at my throat. His grip tightened as he pulled upward on my neck, as if he were trying to wrench my head from my body. He almost pulled me off my feet, and I realized I had sadly underestimated the strength of the man. "How will you give me that oath, Henredon? How can I trust that you will not speak — to someone, someday?"

I gasped through clenched teeth, my hands struggling to pull aside the vise on my throat," My word, Bluebeard!"

"Your word is not enough, Henredon!" Bluebeard shouted. His eyes bulged, almost matching the quality of his pockmarked nose and fleshy cheeks. "/want your tongue!"

"My — my tongue?" I managed to gasp. I could not breathe, and my vision was fading. "What. . foul enchantment —? "

"No magic, my friend! Give me your tongue, or you shall never see Lorel again!" Vicious glee swelled his voice.

From somewhere within me I found the strength to struggle against the behemoth who held me. My hands circled over two fingers and bent them backward. A little more, I encouraged myself, and then —

Roughly my wrists were grabbed from behind and yanked away from Bluebeard's hands. The manservant brutally twisted my arms in their sockets, and together he and Bluebeard threw me back into my chair.

Bluebeard's thick hand now clenched my jaw. I winced in pain. "What say you, Henredon?" the man crowed. "Give me your tongue and you shall see your sister this night. If she wishes to leave with you, by dawn, then so be it. I'll even annul the marriage and you can have the trollop for yourself!" He sneered, and little flecks of spittle spattered his fleshy lips. "You've lusted after her all these years — what's the loss of your tongue to attain your heart's desire? Nothing less will I take, Henredon — nothing else will vouchsafe your word with me!"

The man's hand tightened, and I looked into those dark eyes boring into mine with such ferocity. Thoughts ran rampant through my fevered mind. I was a scholar; how could I exist without speaking? But then to the fore rose the thought of my beloved Lorel lying with this — this abomination, and I could not abide the vision.

"Yes," I croaked breathlessly. Fear gave way to anger, and I raged at him," Yes! Take my tongue, you loathsome, ill-bred cur! Anything for Lorel — "

Bluebeard roared," Enough!" He slammed my head against the marble top of a nearby table, sending the piece crashing to the floor. Blood trickled into my eyes, and for a moment I was blessedly dazed.

He wrenched open my jaw, and terror struck me. Despite my intentions, instinct overrode me and, bucking and kicking, I writhed beneath his and his manservant's hands. I freed one hand and struck at Bluebeard, but the hand was too soon restrained — I was no match for the two of them. Bluebeard forced his monstrous paw inside my mouth. I felt his fingers curl around my tongue, one descending down my throat. Bile and blood gurgled in my mouth, and from somewhere deep inside me — from a place I had no idea existed before this moment — a shriek of absolute, primal terror welled up within me.

I screamed without stop. The sound filled the room, blocking out everything, all thought, all emotion, even all sensation, until. . there came the faint sound of something else — something so repulsive, so violently revolting I felt madness caress me at the sound of it. I screamed again to hide from that sound, but I could not: it followed me deeper, into that tiny part of myself in which I tried to hide and shield my soul. That sound followed me and perverted anything of me that had remained sane.

It was the sound of my tongue being ripped from its roots: the thin, shredding noises as muscle and tissue gave way under Bluebeard's insistence.

My scream turned into some misbegotten gargle, and above the noise I made I could hear the madman's laugh of malevolent triumph as he held above him the bloodied pulp that remained of my tongue. And as I collapsed into a hazy swoon, I thought I heard him say," Your sister is in the adjoining room, Henredon. Be gone at dawn and your lives are yours. If not, they're mine to torment still more." He paused, then added casually," For now, though, I think my man should try to stanch that blood. . "

Truculent laughter filled my ears, and at that point I knew no more.

How long I lay unconscious I do not know. I awoke some time later in a sick and pain-racked haze. In desperation, I stumbled to my feet in the near darkness. My host and his servant were gone, and they had left me with but a single candle, not quite gutted in its holder. I put my hands to my face, then a low moan issued without volition from my throat and I was forced to swallow the blood that threatened to choke me. But I could spare no thought for my condition. My beloved Lorel could be my only focus — my only salvation from the atrocity Bluebeard had committed upon me — and I had to find her.

Vaguely I recalled those half words I had heard before my faint. I fumbled for my watch fob, but couldn't find it in my weakened state. Haltingly, I picked up the candlestick and looked toward the mantel, but there was no timepiece there either. I longed for a clock to tell me how much time I might have in which to find Lorel. Although I knew the night must be old indeed, I didn't doubt that Lorel would leave immediately with me. Despite what Bluebeard had done to me, my sister would see me and know instantly that I had come for her. She and I would leave this accursed castle, and I could converse with her with pen and paper at a calmer date. I had only to find her now, and all would be well.

I faltered toward the side door, recalling something Bluebeard had said about an adjoining room. I stumbled past the overturned furniture and broken bric-a-brac and nearly dropped the candlestick. At the door, I was overcome by a wave of delirium, and I stopped to lean against the cool ebon wood. I marshaled my forces. Now was not the time to stop; now was not the time to succumb in defeat. I swallowed reflexively, the gesture filling me with pain and horror. I had risked so much and given more; everything would be worth it to rescue my beloved Lorel. With renewed determination, I opened the door.

All was in darkness inside this room, and it took many moments for my eyes to adjust, even with the feeble light from my sputtering candle. Vaguely I discerned the outline of a huge, four-poster bed, its draperies drawn shut. Lorel? my mind whispered. Her name rose in my throat, but I stopped myself. I would not frighten her in her sleep.

I staggered to the bed and drew back a curtain. I held aloft the candle and peered inside. The bedclothes were rumpled, and I reached out gently and pulled them back. Oh, how I longed for the pale gilt glimmer of my sister's hair to shine back at me! But there was no such sight. My eyes searched frantically as I wildly pulled back cover after cover. Lorel —!

Behind me I heard a sudden whimper, and I whirled about. My candle fell to the floor, sputtered once, then died. I was in utter darkness, but remained calm as I waited for my eyes to adjust. Faint, predawn light illuminated a large window some steps before me. The draperies, thankfully, were drawn open, and I would know the moment of sunrise. I made out the thin white form of my sister huddled in her nightdress upon the window's seat.

Only a moment more, my beloved, I said to myself, silently praying Lorel could hear my thoughts. Only a moment more, and I shall show myself to you in this wan light, and you shall call my name in joy, and we shall be gone from this abysmal place.

I stepped forward.

"No!" Lorel screamed, throwing her white arms over her face and cowering in the window. "No! Don't hurt me! Don't come near me!"

I hurried to her and said her name — or, rather, tried to say her name. In the face of her pain I forgot my own, and her sweet name came out as a garbled groan. She screamed, and I knelt at her feet, reaching out to touch her. Lorel flailed her arms at me, her pale hair streaming across her lovely face, and she cried aloud once more. I spared a glance out the window: dawn was imminent.

I grasped her arms and shook her, perhaps a little too roughly. She hung her head and moaned, shivering palpably and whispering," Don't hurt me. Please don't hurt me. "Again, at the sound of her voice, I could not restrain myself and I tried to say her name.

Lorel struggled to pull free of me, frightened by the grotesque noises coming from my throat, and her cry of agony tore at my heart. Oh, my dear! I thought. Look at me! Look at me with those eyes of azure! Just one look, and you will know that it is I, your beloved. Look at me!

With one arm I roughly pinned her against the window so that she could not escape. Beyond her shoulders, outside, I saw the sun crest the hill, and I knew that dawn was at hand. With my free hand I brushed aside that gilt curtain behind which she was hiding —

Lorel screamed…and I gazed in horror at. . at the bloodied, sightless sockets that marred my lovely Lorel's face.