Trinity Renewed
Remember Vasek. Only Vasek can control the Sword. Beware Fleischaker! It consumes the souls of friends as well as enemies. The words stayed with Simon. He refrained from discussing them with Jhamed. He’ll think I’m crazy. It was just a dream.
After a hurried breakfast, they left the purple forest behind them. The rest of the journey only took a couple of hours. They passed through three nondescript dimensions and avoided all human contact. Jhamed halted them before a shimmering portal in the middle of a pine forest. “This doorway leads to the dungeons of Dishley. It is a grim place, as Simon well knows. We need a plan to deal with the witch. I have been wracking my brains, but I have not come up with anything.”
Simon stepped forward. “When we get to the dungeon, we will find Juliana. She worked for Freda, so she will know her way around the castle. Dawit, you will use the explosive we brought with us to blow the doors of the prison. We will release the prisoners, which will cause a diversion. You three will remain in the dungeon to secure our escape. Juliana and I will find a way into Freda’s treasure room, where she must hold the Sword. It will call me and help me to find it. We will give the guards a chance to stand down or join us. There will be no killing unless absolutely necessary and in self-defence. Is that clear?”
Taran and Dawit stared at Simon, open-mouthed. Jhamed laughed. “The Hero has arrived. Not before time, I might add. We are at your command, my lord.”
Simon wasn’t sure whether Jhamed spoke earnestly or was poking fun at him. He stepped into the portal, taking the lead for the first time. The now familiar stench of fouled humanity assailed his nostrils immediately. The pitiful sights of the dungeon disturbed his vision soon afterwards. Nothing much had changed in the dungeons of Dishley. Amongst the whimpers and moans of the residents, he heard strong cursing from Dawit and Taran, who had been unprepared for the experience.
“What hell hole have you brought me to?” Taran demanded as the tide of human effluent retreated from their unexpected presence.
“Animals deserve better than this,” Dawit spluttered, trying to avoid breathing too deeply. A rat ran across the floor in front of him and twenty pairs of hands tried to grab it. It eluded their grasp; it wouldn’t be dinner tonight.
“You’ll get used to it,” Simon told them. He grabbed the nearest wretch of a man and looked down at him, square in the eyes. “Where is Juliana? Do you know who I mean?”
“Yes, my lord.” The man straightened himself and stood upright. There was still a hint of human pride in his bearing. When he spoke again, there was a hint of hope and excitement in his voice. “I was here when you dealt with Dring. Have you come back to free us? Has the time finally come?”
Simon immediately regretted his initial harsh questioning. He smiled at the man and spoke in a kindly tone. “Yes, my friend. The time has finally come. Say nothing to anyone yet, but find Juliana and bring her here. Tell her that Si Si Simon has returned and she will trust you. Can I trust you?”
Unexpectedly, the man grinned, showing a mouth full of black teeth. “You can trust me, my lord. I offer you everything I have, which is only my life. I will do as you instruct.” He backed away, bowing, and then turned and hurried off, pushing and elbowing past the shattered wrecks of men and women who were in his way.
Taran and Dawit drew their weapons and established a perimeter, with the smooth wall of the cave at their backs. They cleared enough room so that Simon and Jhamed had space to stack their packs and sit down on the sandy floor to wait. Their arrival had generated enormous interest and a crowd gathered. People pushed and jostled to get to the front. Eyes were gouged and brittle bones were broken in the crush. Dawit had to threaten them with his axe to get them to stand back. He scratched a line in the sand with his foot. “Cross this line and you shall feel the mercy of my axe on your wretched skulls! Stay behind the line and you shall be freed this day.” The crowd eyed his axe and chattered nervously. Everyone stayed behind the line.
Simon was lost in his thoughts. The dungeon and the people seemed to be in a mist. Everything was a blur. He vaguely heard Dawit’s orders to the crowd. His focus though was in his mind. He was close to the Sword now and it was aware of him. It filled his mind with images. There was so much information that Simon could only grasp snatches of it. He saw a great warrior. There was a huge battle, with much death and bloodshed. He felt warm, bloated, and happy. Another figure was there, he was dark and cowled. They fought. Now the dark figure held a still-beating heart in his hand and he threw back his head and laughed. Simon saw his face. Even though he laughed, it was expressionless. It was pure white, unmarked by beard or blemish, by eyebrow or lash. The eyes were black as coal and showed no emotion. There was coldness in those eyes, colder than the heart of a glacier. Then Simon felt absolute coldness and saw the actual heart of a glacier, and even though it chilled him to the marrow it was like a blacksmith’s furnace compared with those eyes. He felt a momentary flash of hope as he saw the faces of humans, only to be dashed to despair when he saw the face of a hideous crone, with hooked nose and rotten teeth who cackled and mocked. He felt hope renewed and he knew he was the bearer of that hope. Come for me. I am ready. Together we shall be invincible. I am so weak . I must feed soon. Simon shivered with cold and felt so weak that, had he not been sitting down, he would surely have collapsed. The crowd buzzed and jostled, but they were but vague murmurs and shadows in the fog. He didn’t know how he could go on. He couldn’t even stand up.
The fog parted. The crowd and his friends remained hidden in the mist. Yet, out of the fog, a figure walked, clear as on a sunny day. She was the most beautiful girl that he had ever set his eyes upon. She was tall and slim, with a tiny waist and small breasts that were falling out of a simple red gown. It had once been a beautiful dress, but now it hung in rags. Her hair was long, straight, and jet-black. When he had last seen her, it had been clean and perfumed. Now it hung in lank, greasy strands. It still framed an elfin face of such pure beauty that it made his heart lurch. Her eyes were the purest blue, shining like jewels against the milky whiteness of her skin – still evident even amongst the brown stains. Her lips were still voluptuous, despite their lack of rouge and the dry cracks that crossed them. Around her neck, she wore a simple necklace with a small silver locket, that he knew contained a lock of Manfred’s hair. Simon’s heart lurched. He felt such love and joy as he had never known before. The fog cleared and he jumped to his feet and took Juliana in his arms. He held her tightly as if he never wanted to let go. “I have come back for you.” He sobbed into her hair. No! You have come back for me! She is nothing. We are the Trinity. Simon could not understand why he felt a sudden pang of jealousy.
There was a new confidence about Simon. He didn’t know where it had come from, but he liked the feeling. Taran and Dawit seemed to treat him with much more respect. Jhamed was still Jhamed, but he seemed to be happy about it. Juliana melted into his arms. He liked that feeling. He wanted to tell her how much he loved her, but decided that must wait until later. He stood tall and addressed the crowd. “My friends; please listen to me. I am Simon the Red.” Where the hell did that come from? I like it! “My friends and I have come to free you and release you from the yoke of the Witch Queen. Will you help us?” For a brief moment, there was silence as the words sank in. Just as Simon was beginning to worry, he was overwhelmed by a cacophony of sound. The crowd yelled and screamed its support. It took all of his effort to quieten them again.
“We must do this with the minimum of violence. We will try to convince the guards not to fight us. When you are released, head away from the jail. Stay hidden until we have dealt with Freda.” The crowd seemed shocked to hear the name uttered without reverence or title. Simon had just committed a blasphemy punishable by death. “When I give the word, you must create a disturbance to distract the guards while we deal with the gate. Stay silent until then. May the Balance be with you and may your future repay the debt that is owed for such inhumane treatment.”
He checked with Dawit, Taran, and Jhamed that they knew their roles. He couldn’t afford to delay the crowd for too long. He whispered to Juliana. “Can you guide me to Freda’s treasure room?” She nodded and kissed him on the cheek. Simon blushed, but it felt so good. Come for me! The voice in his head was urgent. I am coming, be patient. “Let’s go!” He shouted and the crowd surged forward.
The next few minutes were a chaotic scramble. The crowd surged to one end of the open bars that separated the dungeon from the outside world. There they began to make mayhem that brought the four guards on duty to find out what was going on. Meanwhile, Dawit managed to place a charge in the lock of the rusty gate. The explosion took out the gate as well as the lock and sent many of the crowd sprawling as well as the four guards. By the time the guards had regained their feet they were confronted by an elf with a sword and a dwarf with an axe, who offered them surrender or death. They obviously liked their odds because they chose to fight. Unfortunately for them, they seriously misjudged their opponents and their mistake proved fatal. Two died from stab wounds to the heart. Two were decapitated by a dwarven axe. Simon, weaponless as he was, led the group up a long, sloping corridor towards the surface. The crowd jostled behind them, eager to taste freedom. They were confronted by another locked iron gate and a roomful of soldiers beyond.
The Captain of the Guard stepped forward. “Return to your dungeon immediately and you will be allowed to live. Hesitate for but an instant and you will all die.” He had a loud commanding voice that spoke of long experience and demanded respect.
“I am Simon the Red. I have come to claim what is rightfully mine. I intend to rid your kingdom of the evil witch Freda. Lay down your arms, open this gate and let us pass without hindrance and you will be allowed to live. Hesitate for but an instant and you will all die.” Simon barely recognised his own voice. It commanded obedience and absolute respect.
The Captain of the Guard stepped forward until he was touching the bars. He stared into Simon’s eyes and there was unspoken communication. “You realise that no matter how good a group of fighters you are, I have the numbers to defeat you. Your death would be certain. However, I am old enough to remember the time before She came. If you indeed have the power to do as you say, it will be the greatest thing ever to happen to Dishley. I read something in your eyes that, against my better judgement, tells me to believe you.” He turned to his men. “Lay down your arms and let them pass.” There were a few grumbles, but he had their obedience. He unlocked the gate, drew his sword, and laid it at Simon’s feet. “I am your servant, my lord. Be successful or I will be inside the dungeon; if I’m lucky enough to live.”
Simon picked up the sword. “Stay here and make sure these men don’t raise the alarm.” His orders were directed at Jhamed, Taran and Dawit. “Juliana, come with me. We won’t be long. Whatever happens, do not come looking for us. We will see you when this is over.” Simon and Juliana hurried away.
The crowd of escaping prisoners followed them, the lures of freedom, food, and a wash pulling them like an angler’s fly attracts a hungry trout. Only one man remained; the one who had sought out Juliana. “If there is anything I can do to help? I am very grateful for my release. I’m sure the others are too but they are too excited to say so.”
Jhamed looked at him and smiled. “Thank you, my friend. You have already done us a great service. Hurry off now and enjoy your freedom. Prince Christopher will need your help soon enough.” The man bowed low and hurried off. “Now, despite Simon’s new found leadership, there is something I must do or I fear there will be tears before bedtime. Will you pick up a sword and join me, Captain? You two are more than capable of holding the fort here.” Jhamed and the Captain followed Simon and Juliana.
Dawit looked at Taran and shrugged. “Who would have thought it? A dwarf and an elf holding the fort. These are strange days indeed. I had hoped to see the witch.”
“Be careful what you wish for. If Simon is not successful you may see more of her than will be good for you,” Taran said.
Juliana guided Simon through the cold stone corridors of the dungeon. They climbed slowly until they were at ground level, where they stopped to take stock. “The dungeon forms the lower levels of the central tower of the castle. The Queen’s treasure room is at the very top of the tower. We can use the servants’ stairs to get most of the way up there. There is a single stair for the last two floors. Her apartments are on the second top floor. No one is allowed up to the top floor. Someone is coming, quickly, this way.”
They hid behind a wall tapestry as a group of chattering servants passed by and then crept to a door that opened into a narrow stone stairway. The stairs were worn from generations of use and lit only by a faint light from slit windows at regular intervals. Simon hoped that they would not meet anyone on the stairs. He didn’t want to have to use the sword he was carrying on innocent people. Fortunately, there was no one around and they climbed steadily. Even so, Simon was out of breath by the time they reached Freda’s levels. The higher they got, the more urgent were the demands in Simon’s head. He tried to shut them out, to keep his head clear but it was impossible. Yes, yes, come to me. I am waiting. Without Juliana leading him, he probably wouldn't have had the wits to find the chamber, such was his distraction. The servants’ stairs disgorged them onto a landing. A wide, carpeted stairway lit by wall-mounted oil lamps would take them to Freda’s quarters. They paused for a moment and Simon forced his head to clear a little. “What does she look like? How will I recognise her? In my mind, she looks like an ugly old crone.”
Juliana looked at Simon. “Oh, no! She is the most beautiful woman in the world.”
Simon was confused. He wanted to tell Juliana that, to him, she was the most beautiful woman in the world, even as dirty and ragged as she was now. The noise in his head got too loud again, so he said nothing. Be careful. She is here. She is waiting for you. They tentatively climbed the stairs. Again, they saw no one. On the next level, a long carpeted corridor led off to many closed doors. A much smaller, steeper staircase would take them to the top of the tower. Simon hesitated. “Juliana, you don’t have to come any further. Wait here for me.”
“No. I must see this thing through. I am coming with you. I feel a great bond between us. It is my destiny.”
Simon was lost for words. He wanted to tell Juliana that the bond was great indeed, that he loved her, and that he wanted to spend his entire life with her. It is time. Come for me now. The witch will die. We will feast soon. I have waited so long. Oh yes, we will feast soon. They climbed the last flight of stairs in silence. At the top they were confronted by a heavy wooden door with a cast iron latch and ring shaped handle. In a fog, Simon grasped the ring and turned. The latch clicked and with a push, the door creaked open.
The room was dark, lit only by two small lamps burning on the walls. Shadows jumped in the flickering light, adding to the eerie stillness. In the centre of the room was a large, simple wooden table. The table seemed out of place. The rest of the room was ornately decorated. The walls contained many mirrors and framed portraits. Several statues were dotted around the room on marble pedestals. In the dim light, they looked like gargoyles. Smaller tables, intricately carved from mahogany, stood against the walls. They contained artefacts big and small – jewels, ornaments, weapons, clothes, armour, even a preserved human head. The plain pine table stood out. It looked like a butcher’s block. It was empty except for a sword, the Sword. It was black, except for a blood red ruby embedded in its hilt, which glowed with a faint energy. It was precisely located in the centre of the table, inside a pentagram. One point of the pentagram was located at ninety degrees beneath the Sword. It pointed directly at Simon and Juliana as they entered the room. The pentagram was dark red. A perfect circle, also dark red, enclosed the sword and the pentagram. To the upper left of the sword, an all-seeing eye symbol was keeping guard. It screeched like an angry magpie protecting its nest. A figure emerged from the shadows in the back of the room. “Be quiet, my lovely, I am here. Hello, Simon, I have been expecting you.”
Simon was in a fog again. His head throbbed as if he were having a bad migraine attack. Fleischaker was calling him. Juliana needed his protection. This woman was welcoming him. He blinked through the fog and focussed on the woman. No! It can’t be. She is dead. “Mother?” was all that he said.
The woman spoke again. “Well, Juliana, it seems that you have not yet learned your lesson.” She gestured towards Juliana and the girl was flung through the air, hitting the wall beside the doorway and sliding to the floor in a crumpled heap. “I will deal with you later. Your death will be very slow and exceedingly unpleasant.”
Simon was at a loss. How could this woman, who looked like his mother, behave like this? He rushed over to Juliana and held her limp body in his arms. Her eyes flickered open. “I’m alright, Simon. Don’t worry about me.” She coughed, and a small trickle of blood ran from her mouth. She struggled to sit up and, slowly and painfully, she removed the chain and locket from her neck. “Wear this, Simon. It will help you to see the truth.” Simon took the locket and slipped it around his neck. Immediately his head cleared. He heard the words of Manfred the Magician. Be strong Simon. Fleischaker is rightfully yours. Take up the Sword. Control the Sword. He gently laid Juliana back on the floor and stood up.
The woman moved into the light. She was middle-aged, neither beautiful nor ugly, slightly overweight with a plain face and long black hair that was showing signs of grey. “Do not hurt Juliana again, witch!” Simon ordered.
“So, you see through my disguise, Simon. It’s very useful to make people see the person they most admire or love. It makes them less likely to try to hurt me. You want to hurt me, don’t you? I’m afraid that won’t be possible. Please put down your sword.” Freda’s words were syrupy, sickly-sweet but with a hint of a threat to counter the redolence. The witch gestured and Simon felt his arm moving, without his approval, to lower his sword to the floor. He didn’t try to resist; after all, he was finished with this sword.
“My spies in the dungeon saw you and your friends arrive. You travel with strange company. I never heard of a dwarf and an elf working together before. Who are you? Why are you here? Do you think that a mere boy can threaten Freda, the most powerful Witch Queen that has ever been? Even two wizards together are no match for me. I will deal with your friends and that mutinous Captain soon enough. First, I would have some sport with you. I will know all of your secrets, one way or another. You seem to have strong feelings for Juliana. I will start by letting you watch me torture her and kill her.” She gave a raucous laugh that reminded Simon of the old crone in his visions. “I have no remorse. You are no more to me than that rat, hiding in the corner.” The rat scurried into the shadows.
Simon felt a flash of pity for the witch, but it was quickly followed by anger and hatred. He had only ever felt such emotions before when thinking about his stepfather. He stood tall and faced Freda. The words that he spoke came to him without thinking. He wasn’t sure whether it was he or another that spoke them. “I have come for the Sword.”
The witch laughed. “You! A puny boy. Two wizards could not even touch it. It is protected by my strongest magic. Don’t make me laugh.”
“Know you that I am Simon the Red, Everlasting Hero. I come to reclaim what is rightfully mine, taken by deception from Gilgamesh the Great by Gadiel the Dark God. You have no claim on Fleischaker. We are the Trinity. We claim your soul.” He stepped forward and extended his left hand to pick up the Sword. The bonds of the pentacle shattered into dust. The all-seeing eye screamed and closed. As he picked up the Sword, Simon felt as though all the heat was being sucked out of his body. Freda appeared frozen too; immobilised in shock she stood with her mouth open in disbelief. Fleischaker began to sing and it sounded like a banshee wailing. Simon howled like a coyote on a full moon. Freda died, impaled on the Sword, and Fleischaker consumed her soul. The ruby glowed bright red and the Sword sang. Simon was overwhelmed by emotion. The heat flowed back into his body. Every nerve tingled, like every orgasm he had ever had had come at once.
Over by the wall, Juliana dragged herself to her feet and began to speak. “Oh, Simon you have done it, you...” The words were cut off as Fleischaker cut her throat. The Sword sang and Simon screamed. So began the orgy of death. The Hero methodically worked his way down the tower. In the royal nursery, the children were massacred in their beds. In the kitchens, the cooks were butchered like the meat they were cooking. In a room off Freda’s quarters, a drugged and befuddled King Jack welcomed the peace that death finally brought him. Servants were slaughtered as they cleaned and polished. Guards who came running were dispatched with clinical efficiency and never made as much as a scratch on the Hero. In a secret room, two old men chained to the wall in heavy irons died incredulous and the Hero barely noticed that their bodies turned to dust, which was carried away by an eerie breeze.
As he neared the bottom of the tower, Simon caught a glimpse of himself in a full-length wall-mirror. He was shocked. Truly, he had earned his name. He was completely red, covered in the blood of his victims. Too late, the words of warning came back into his mind. Remember Vasek. Only Vasek can control the Sword. Beware Fleischaker! It consumes the souls of friends as well as enemies. Angrily, he sheathed the Sword. Simon collapsed to the floor, hung his head in his hands, and cried. The tears mingled with the blood on his face and rivulets of red flowed to the floor. Those who saw him that day said that when he cried, Simon Rufus even cried tears of blood. Thus was his legend born and quickly did it spread.
