EA#30:
Read From the Beginning or the start of Trial Two or Three or Four or Five
The Mountain in the Clouds, Part Thirty-Three
“
In a white room.
With nothing.
Gods it seems like I end up in far too many places of emptiness and void.
‘It is a safe space. You asked to be here. You can stay forever.’
These were the words I had heard in this place. And as I reached into the space, I felt warm and comfortable. I didn’t feel pain. I didn’t feel much of anything at all.
What am I doing here? I thought.
Protecting yourself, said the unseen, calming voice from all around.
From what? I asked.
The voice returned: Hate. Pain. Suffering.
Hate. I remembered it. I was in a trial of hate. And I wasn’t having such good luck.
What do I do? I begged.
You survive, the voice responded.
How? Please tell me, I continued.
You may stay here, the voice reminded me.
I cannot stay here, I stated. I have things I must do. I have people I must be with.
What things? What people? the voice queried of me.
Just get me out of here, I told the voice. Just send me back to where I need to be.
If you insist, the voice said without affect.
And I woke up.
I was lying on the ground, face in the dirt. My hands were still bound. My back was raw and sore from dozens of lashings. The pain was almost unbearable. I tried to calm myself. I tried to be strong. I told myself that if I could focus my mind just right, I could tune out of the pain. I could overcome the feeling with my own desire to do so.
It didn’t work all that well.
Still, I kept trying. Things like this are never instantaneous. It takes a measure of faith and practice. Trust…
Yes, my trials. I had completed four. I was determined to complete this fifth. Buck up, I told myself. Be strong. Be discerning. Be joyful. Trust.
I looked around and saw the outlaws in their camp. Some were standing there watching me, most were milling about. But the face that struck me most was that which was filled with hate. My ex wife, Eleanor, now Zel.
She glared at me and spat, “Are you back for more pain? You should have stayed asleep!”
“Enough, Zel!” called a strong voice from within the nearby building. The backsmith came back out and put his hands on his hips. “That’s enough. I let you have your fun. And I told you we have work to do. Get your shit together and leave this piece of trash. Whatever he did to you, let it go.”
For a moment I almost applauded this man, though I knew he was not truly on my side. He just had worse deeds to enact than torture me in retribution for something long past. Which is a thing Zel will clearly never get over.
“Everyone get your rest, we leave before dawn tomorrow,” the blacksmith said. “Watch in twos, every two hours.” He turned to go inside, but paused. “Zel.”
She looked at him.
“Come inside for a moment,” he told her.
Zel looked defeated, having had her fun with me spoilt. And she didn’t look too keen on going into the blacksmith’s forge either. She lowered her head and darted her eyes about, as if there were some way else to go. Then she obliged and followed the leader of the outlaw group inside.
I am not sure what happened within, but I could not focus on anything else but to keep the pain at bay. And to sleep. Or try to. I barely moved from where I lay on the ground. I dozed and woke on repeat all through the night.
At some point late in the night, while a change of watch was ensuing, someone came to me. I barely noticed at first, but I felt a cooling sensation on my back. A balm or salve was applied to me, and the pain began to fade. The wounds seemed to soften. I looked to see who had done this. But as I caught site of the figure, it darted off into the night. I could not make out a face on the shadowy form.
After this unexpected healing, I was able to sleep more soundly until the morning.
Well, it was before morning when the outlaws arose. One of them kicked me hard in the ribs to jolt me awake. I could see Zel across the camp, still glowering in my direction.
The head outlaw gave a brief speech about their plan. But I couldn’t make out much, still half asleep and tired.
After a quick breakfast, which of course I was not provided with, the outlaws gathered their gear and weapons and began to march out of the camp.
Zel stopped them, “What about him?” she asked, pointing towards me.
“What about him?” said the blacksmith.
“We can’t just leave him,” Zel said.
“Sure we can,” the blacksmith curled his lip. “He’s of no use to us. He’ll just get in the way and slow us down.”
Zel thought fast, “Well, we could use him…”
“How?” said the leader, growing noticeably impatient.
“He could be a distraction,” Zel tried.
The blacksmith stood there for a moment without a word. Then he said, “That’s not part of the plan.” Another pause, then, “But, maybe there’s some way to make use of him. Check his bindings and get him on his feet. Quickly!”
Two men dashed over to me and lifted me, groggy as I was, until I was standing. And they roughly jostled the cords on my wrists and nodded, approving.
Yea, I could have told you they’re still tight, I thought. The circulation’s been cut off for hours and my fingers are turning blue.
“Alright, let’s go!” the blacksmith roared to his crew. “And you,” he continued, pointing an angry finger towards me, “You’d better keep up or I’ll end you myself. I don’t have time to play nursemaid to dead weight.”
My feelings towards the man were less favorable then when he had stopped my torture last night.
The outlaws marched for about an hour from their encampment. The sun was slowly rising as we went, and its warmth gave me some comfort. Some things are eternal, unchanging, and the light and hope offered in those rays kept me going. Though the going was rough. Underslept, weary, and still sore despite my strange healing, I stumbled along with my captors. Once or twice I fell and was given a good thumping by one boot or other until I scrambled back to my feet. The blacksmith turned a menacing eye my way every time that happened.
But the most uncomfortable part of all was the incessant hate-mongering of Zel. She didn’t stop pestering me, staring wickedly at me and offering all sorts of commentary about what an awful person I was. I knew I didn’t believe what she said of me, but to hear it and to hear it without end is still draining. I had much I could have told her, as well, but thought it best not to engage. It would only have fueled her and drained me more to fight her words, and I knew from experience that it was a useless practice. She always had a way of believing herself to be true and right in all situations. So self-righteous.
But look at her now. Look how miserable she is, I thought. Look who she’s agreeing to stay with.
I can’t say I am surprised to find her with these people. Still, all I wanted was to get away.
Finally we arrived at their destination. The outlaws paused behind a long, dune-like hill that rolled out before us in both directions.
“Over that hill is Holderstown,” the leader spoke softly. “We are going to get what we can from their stores of stolen goods. You know the drill. When we enter, act as though you are looking for wares, weapons, ores, whatever. Be normal and they won’t suspect anything. Spread out, but not too thin. Keep to the main plaza shops. Most of the precious items will be there anyways. Remember, it is heavily guarded. Make sure to find clear paths back out, so as to avoid the watchmen. When you have all chosen your prize, turn towards the middle. I’ll be standing there and when I get the go-ahead from everyone—and make sure you raise your goggles to your eyes, very important!—I’ll signal for our escape. Then drop your bombs and run back to this spot. My powerful new mix will have the town reeling, and we should be long gone by the time they recover. If you are followed, keep running until you lose them. We will meet back at camp.”
Gods, I thought. Is this a heist of a thieves organization? This is insane!
“You!” the blacksmith said gruffly to me. “You stay by my side. You don’t speak. You don’t shout. You don’t call for help. You don’t break our cover. And you know why you won’t do this? Because if you do,” he said, smiling and patting a huge iron hammer the size of a battle axe, “I will flatten your skull into the ground. And no one in this town will bat an eye when I do. Nobody cares for prisoners around here, especially ones that speak out of turn. Do you understand me?”
I nodded.
“Good,” he said. “Alright, gang, let’s move out.”
So the outlaws crossed the threshold, climbed over the hill, and headed towards Holderstown.
“
Thanks so much for reading.
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Blessings to you,
Matthew