[CRACKFIC] Noble is the Head 40

[makingamochrie.livejournal.com]

Because you asked so nicely.  Ryan's bit   SECOND UPDATE TODAY!!!

Title:  Noble is the Head 40
author: makingamochrie
Pairing: None (this chapter)
Rating:  R for death
Disclaimer:  CRACK

Ryan awoke first, quickly followed by the other three.  They were squashed together, breathing one another’s breaths, no bit of body untouched by any other bit of body.  And yet the walls, somehow, seemed to have stopped closing.  How, none of them knew, but perhaps it was the sheer weight or density of the four crushed men in the now infinitesimal box they’d suddenly become trapped within that stopped the movement somehow.  Ryan doubted it could be that simple, but it was the only thing he could think up at the moment.

 

Now, how the fuck to get out of here.  A quick look to the right, almost entirely blocked by Greg’s body, showed the pattern-stones were gone, all of them.  They seemed to be trapped with no way out, but he didn’t accept defeat.  There were always answers.  He just had to find them.  And find them he would, if he had to die trying.  That the others would also die preyed on his mind horribly, but if they all had to go, at least they’d go together, and that was better, at least, than nothing at all.

 

Shuddering out a breath, he slowly removed his arm from the human pretzel it had become, sliding it back to his own side slowly, aware he was causing hurt to his companions but needing to do it in order to think of some way out of this mess.

 

The pommel of his sword, dropped when he’d fallen into unconsciousness, was right next to his outer thigh, and he grabbed it up easily.  Turning it instinctively in his hands, he forced the point toward the ceiling crushing into his head and thrust up as hard as he could.

 

It was much easier than he could have planned it.  A brief hint of resistance, and then that resistance was gone, leaving him to feel as if he were thrusting into thin air.

 

Thin air!  That was it!

 

Removing the sword, he thrust it up again, at a slightly different angle, laughing aloud as large clumps of dirt and stone came trickling down onto his unprotected head.

 

“What’s with the loon act?” Greg grumbled, wiping the dust from his own sweat-streaked hair.

 

“You still have your short sword?”

 

“Yeah, around here somewhere.”

 

“Well get it and start poking holes in the ceiling.  We’re gonna tunnel our way out of here.”

 

“Are you fucking nuts?”

 

“No more so than you are, thief, so listen to my orders and listen well.  Grab that sword and start on the ceiling.  We’re getting out of here.”

 

“Sir, yes sir!” Greg barked, untwisting his arms away from Colin and Drew and fumbling for his sword.  “Fuck!” he hissed as he managed to get his hand around the blade instead of the pommel. “Damn thing bit me.”

 

“We’ll deal with that later.  Now just do as I say.”

 

“I can get mine, too,” Drew said, slipping his arm away from Colin’s and grabbing his daggers from his boots.  In no time, he was making like a sushi chef and poking holes in the ceiling like a demented seamstress, not even ducking out of the way as dirt and stones rained down in buckets over his head and Colin’s.

 

Colin, without any weapons, used his hands, soon coming out with clods of dirt and stones which landed in his lap, pinning his legs more painfully beneath him.  None of that mattered.  Fresh air mattered greatly.  He could easily feel that the little that had been trapped with them was quickly running out.  Knowing this, he doubled, then redoubled his efforts, not caring about his nails as they peeled back from their beds after catching on the pointed stones, just digging and digging and digging like a demented dog going after a bone. 

 

In so doing, he was the first to hit the top, where the air was, and it was as fresh and as sweet as any he’d ever known.  The others felt it immediately and cheered raggedly before picking up their own individual paces.  Soon all of them had dug through to the air floating above the ceiling and, dropping their weapons, used their hands to scoop the debris back toward them, widening the holes they’d made for themselves until they were wide enough to climb through.

 

And climb through they did, with an alacrity that would have done men half their ages proud.

 

Gasping, the four man lay on the steady, solid tunnel floor, covered with dirt, stones, and all manner of unidentifiable debris, taking in lungfuls of sweet, sweet air, heads spinning with the joy of it all.

 

Greg finally stirred, managing to pull himself up into a sitting position.  “I’m sorry I failed you guys,” he said morosely.

 

“I don’t think you did,” Colin said.

 

“Col….”

 

“No, Greg, listen.  Those walls were strong.  There was nothing, certainly not the four of us, to stop them from turning us into powder.  But they didn’t.  They stopped.  And I think, no I know, that you stopped them with your trick with the stones.  You knew the pattern and it worked.  The walls slowed, and then they stopped.  You did it, Greg.  You saved our lives.”

 

Greg shook his head.

 

“It’s true,” Ryan added.  “There’s no way these walls would have stopped otherwise.  You did the right thing, Greg.  Thank you.”

 

“Yeah, thanks, bud,” Drew added.  “If I ever doubted your abilities before, I sure don’t now.  You were awesome.”

 

For the first time any of them could remember, Greg blushed, full and hard and deep.  Waving them off, he faced in the other direction until he could get his emotions under control.  That task finally completed, he turned back to them, smirk firmly in place.  “Yeah, well, next time I tell you to do something, you’ll listen, yeah?”

 

The others nodded readily.

 

“Then I guess we better get going.”

 

And so they did.

 

*******

 

Somehow, all of them knew they’d passed the halfway point in their journey through the pits of hell, and as a group they started to breathe just a bit easier.  They knew they shouldn’t; knew that the hallucinations up until now were likely to be child’s play to what had to be waiting ahead for them, but just the thought of the ending of this chamber of horrors was enough to lift their spirits if only the tiniest of bits.

 

And so they kept on walking, allowing themselves to take in the eerie beauty of the cave filled with sparkling gems that would cost a king’s ransom to obtain.  Colin absently found himself wondering if the King even knew that what he thought a mere cave was actually a tunnel traversing from one side of the mountain to the other.  Perhaps he didn’t or he surely would have found a way to exploit it as he’d exploited every other thing that had come his way.  To say that Colin hated the King would be like saying that fireants crawling on one’s skin were only a little bit annoying.  But as there was nothing he could do about it, he generally let it be.

 

In front of them, Ryan once again stopped abruptly, drawing his long weapon from its scabbard with a sibilant hiss.  This time, none of the others could understand why he’d stopped.  None could see anything at all but the continuation of the tunnel before them.  No creatures, no doors, no bottomless abysses, nothing.

 

“Ryan?” Colin asked softly.  “What is it?”

 

It was obvious, however, that Ryan couldn’t hear him.  “Let them go!” he shouted, striding forward and dragging the others behind him as he charged whatever it was he saw in his mind, his sword flashing too fast for the eyes of the others to follow.  “Damn you, let them go!  They are no threat to you!!”

 

“Do you think he’s talking about us?” Greg asked Colin.

 

Colin nodded.  “It’s the only thing that makes sense.  What I don’t understand is why we can’t see what he thinks he’s fighting.”

 

“Don’t borrow trouble,” Drew said quietly, raising his hands at Greg’s glare.  “Hey, it’s what my mother always told me.  Maybe we’re better off not knowing.”

 

And with that, the three men found themselves dragged by unseen hands past the irate Warrior, then turned to face him.  Still, there was no one behind them, no one holding them prisoner.  The hands had left right away.  It was a face off, and no one knew what to do.

 

“Let. Them. Go. NOW!” Ryan warned, only this time, he was going after them!

 

“Ooooh, fuck!” Greg shouted, managing, just, to evade a decapitating swing with a block of his shortsword and some creative ducking.  “He thinks we’re…whatever it is that’s holding us!  He’s trying to kill us!”

 

“This can’t be happening,” Colin whispered.

 

“There is no monster, Col,” Greg intoned.  “It’s us.  He thinks we’re holding his friends—us—against our will and he’s going to kill us to get us back.  It makes no sense, but that’s how he sees it.” Greg danced away from yet another killing blow.  “Ain’t no way I’m gonna be able to keep this up much longer.  I’m no Warrior, and he’s the best there ever was.”

 

“We can’t hurt him, though,” Colin said. “Not even to save our own lives.”

 

“What?!?” Greg demanded, taking his eyes off his enraged opponent only long enough to be on the receiving end of a long, deep gash to his upper left shoulder. “SHIT!!!”

 

“We can’t,” Colin reiterated.  “If we do, we’ll be trapped in here forever.  We have to subdue him, but we can’t harm him.”

 

“When you figure out how to do that, genius, be sure and tell the rest of us.  Me, I’m fighting for my life, whatever that takes.”

 

Drew jumped in beside Greg, his daggers at the ready, and between the two of them, managed to slow the Prince down slightly.

 

Not for long, however, and both men found themselves treated to a spectacular view of just what made this man the very best at what he did.  If desperation made his strokes just a bit less precise than normal, Drew and Greg took it for a miracle and gave as good as they could.  But both were tiring quickly and hits were getting through here and there, bloodying them both.

 

Grabbing a full quiver of arrows, Colin slipped one in the bow, drew back and fired, landing a direct hit into the irate Prince’s left calf, causing him to stumble. 

 

Greg and Drew took immediate advantage of the break in the action and moved forward as one, using the pommels of their weapons to beat him strongly about the head and shoulders, trying to get him to go unconscious.

 

It didn’t work, of course.  The Prince only reared up with a growl that would have chased off the most fearsome of creatures.  From somewhere, a second sword appeared, and he waded in, chopping through the two men’s poorly set defenses as if they were made of wet cardboard.  The best either man could think to do was to run, and run they did, as fast as they were able.

 

Colin, meanwhile, notched another arrow and let fly, getting it to sink deep into the meat of the Prince’s right thigh.  Ryan dropped to his knees, but sprang right back up again, his eyes black with anger.

 

Letting the other two nuisances go for the moment, Ryan turned to the third.  His eyes had gone completely black by now, and any evidence of humanity in them had long since fled.  This was not the man Colin had known throughout his entire life, slave or free.  This was The Warrior, the one who had won every campaign he had ever entered.  And Colin knew he was looking at his own death.  Strangely, he was not afraid.  It seemed…fitting…somehow, to die at the hand of the one who had saved his life to begin with.

 

“You die now,” Ryan said in a voice that seemed almost tender.

 

“I know,” Colin whispered, dropping his bow and easing his arms away from his body, empty palms out.  “Do what you must.”

 

With a roar, Ryan shoved his longsword forward, its tip entering just above Colin’s naval and slitting upward until it hit his breastbone before sliding away.  Looking down, Colin watched almost clinically as the ropes of his intestines slid through the gaping hole.  He looked back up at Ryan as he sunk to his knees.  The pain wasn’t bad yet, he was in shock, but it would get there.  His death was destined to be a slow, agonizing one.  It was why when the Easterners chose this method to end their own lives, they had a Second who would decapitate them, to save them from the agony awaiting.  He had no such Second, and he would die alone at the hand of the man he respected above all others.  “I forgive you,” he whispered as blood, black and viscous, flowed from his mouth.

 

Ryan blinked once, an agonized look on his own face, before quickly turning in search of the others who had captured his friends.  He didn’t have far to look, for they were standing right there, their faces white as chalk, staring between him and the man bleeding his life away on the dirty tunnel floor.

 

“You son of a bitch!” Drew screamed, rushing in with his daggers, only to be easily pushed away, Ryan’s great strength pushing him off his feet and sending him the length of the tunnel until he crashed, half conscious, against the opposite wall.

 

“Finish it, at least!” Greg demanded.  “Finish him off!  You wouldn’t do that to your worst enemy!  Look at the agony he’s in!  Finish him off, for the sake of the gods!!!”  It wasn’t within Greg’s nature to plead, but he’d gladly get down on both knees and beg the mad Prince to kill Colin in a humane way, even if that meant he’d never see him again.

 

Ryan, of course, ignored him and started playing with him, like a cat with a rat, batting at his sword as if it were some sort of a game to him.  “You’re holding my friends, and I’m going to kill you all.  Joyfully. Slowly. With pleasure.  You’re gonna beg for my mercy, but as far as my friends go, you’ll see quite quickly that I have no mercy.”

 

“I’ve already seen that,” Greg sneered into his face.  “The problem is, your Majesty, that you are the one killing your friends.  No one is holding us except the demon in your own mind.  It’s playing you like it’s playing us, and that man over there, who has never done anything to harm another living being, is paying it with his life.  Because of you.”

 

On ‘you’, Greg moved forward, using his incredible swiftness in an attempt to penetrate Ryan’s defenses.  He was successful for one brief second, long enough to draw a knick of blood from the man’s chest before the resulting counterblow nearly severed his arm clean off.

 

“You lie!” Ryan growled.  “You’re just an hallucination used to drive me crazy.  Well it won’t work this time, whoever you are.  I’m wise to your game now.”

 

“It is no game,” Greg replied, deadly serious.  “You’re going to kill us all, and once you’ve found out just what you’ve done, well…that’ll be up to you.”

 

With a loud, wavering scream, Drew came back into the picture, swinging his daggers in an awkward clumsy way that would have been funny if it hadn’t been so serious.  At the last second, he tripped, but it was a fortuitous one, since his forward momentum brought him into contact with Ryan’s ankles, tripping the tall man forward and onto Greg’s shortsword.  The blow it dealt was a glancing one, sliding off the edge of the Prince’s ribcage and down his side before bouncing off the prominent hipbone and exiting.

 

Ryan stood back up as if he  hadn’t even felt the glancing blow dealt him.  “I’m giving you one last chance,” he rasped, his eyes crazy.  “Let them go, and it ends here.”

 

“We are them!” Greg cried.  “Damnit!  We are them, can’t you understand!  You’re killing us, Ryan!  You’re fucking killing your friends!!”

 

“NO!  You lie!!!”

 

Shaking his head, Greg deliberately dropped his sword.  “Fine.  There’s nothing any of us can do.  You want me dead?  Go ahead.  Kill me.  Do it.”

 

Ryan looked around, like a wary animal scenting the air for danger.  Not finding any, his face screwed up in a parody of rage and with one swift lunge, he pierced Greg right through the gullet.  “Did with the other, you coward.”

 

“I forgive you,” Greg rasped out, deliberately repeating Colin’s final words before buckling to the floor.

 

Tears flowing from his eyes, Drew threw down his weapons.  “I…I wish it didn’t have to be this way, Ryan, but…kill me too. Maybe then it’ll let you go.  It’s the only way.  I…I’m sorry I couldn’t be stronger for you.  Please, make it quick.  That’s all I can ask of you.”

 

Growling in triumph, Ryan skewered the last man standing between him and the three men he loved.  Thrusting forward, he too skewered Drew right through the gullet and watched, with immense satisfaction, as the man dropped like a stone, blood running from his gut and his mouth.

 

“I did it, you bastards!” he screamed to the tunnel walls, lifting his swords in triumph.  “I did it!!”

 

Suddenly, like lightning striking, the feeling of possession swept away from the Prince and he looked down at the carnage he’d wrought, seeing it for the first time through his own, perfectly sane eyes.

 

“Oh my gods,” he cried miserably as his entire body crumpled to the ground.  “I killed them.  I killed them all.  Why?!?” he screamed to those very same walls.  “Why?!?!?”

 

The echo of his screams was his only answer.