Days of Future Past - Part 3: Future Tense Read online

  The thing I was bound over shifted then and I realized I was over the back of a horse or a mule or something, tied down like a sack or a dead animal.

  I wondered then why I was still alive? I tried to remember what had happened. There had been a bright light and a loud noise. An explosion?

  It all came flooding back then: We had been riding along, everything had been quiet all day long, and then suddenly out of nowhere attackers popped up out of the ground. There was shooting, magic, a fight, then a desperate ride, my stopping and turning my horse to charge back at the pursuers to buy the girls more space, more gunfire, and then the grenade that arced through the air, which had landed under my horse, the screams, the explosion. Flying up into the air, only to come down onto the ground, hard with a thousand pounds of dead horse on top of me.

  More grenades, more explosions, and then something must have gone horribly wrong because one moment I was looking back at Sarah from under the dead horse as I tried to free myself as she spread her arms and cast a spell, and the next she was just a shadow of darkness in a sea of blinding white light. A shadow that came apart and evaporated as I heard Heather screaming and screaming, and then a sudden silence as the shockwave hit and I lost all awareness.

  They were dead. Both dead.

  Why I wasn't, I had no idea. Maybe they wanted to torture me for their enjoyment. Maybe they wanted a fresh meal. It didn't matter. I couldn't move, I was having trouble breathing, and I hurt all over. I obviously wasn't much longer for this world, so it didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore. I didn't care. Hopefully it would be swift, but even if it wasn't, it didn't matter and I didn't care. Whatever Coyote's plans were for me, they were as dead as my own hopes and dreams. I'd lost the only two people I'd ever loved.

  Nothing mattered anymore. Not even me.

  Come the morning, I woke up, after a fashion, to find myself still lying on my stomach, tied over the back of whatever beast of burden they had put me on. I could almost see the ground, and one of the hind legs as the animal slowly plodded along. I could also hear the conversation of those around me, even if the words made no sense to my rattled brain.

  My lips were dry and cracked, I wondered how long it had been since I'd been captured, but I had no idea. All I knew was that I needed a drink of water. My back was on fire and I needed a drink. I hurt everywhere, and I needed a drink.

  As we rode on, all of the pains, the glare, the dizziness, all of that became replaced by the need for water, as I painfully drifted in and out of consciousness. Strange thoughts and visions drifted through my mind, none of which made sense. Some of them were things I remembered, but which were horribly wrong and got more so as I tried to follow the thought. Others were just horribly wrong to start with, I don't know if those were inspired by the sounds I heard, my situation, or things I glimpsed. They were the things of nightmares and torment and in all of them I craved and demanded water, and in none of them did I get any as I was tortured and tormented.

  After a long, painful, and undeterminable time of suffering, something bright flashed before my eyes, and then everything seemed to shift before my blurred vision, then with a very painful thud I hit the ground and just laid there in a heap trying to comprehend what was going on.

  "Get up!" someone, or something, grunted.

  I lay there, unable to move, unable to even to tell them to go screw themselves.

  "I say, get up!" was grunted again, punctuated by two painful blows to the side of my body that moved me across the ground. I could only guess that I was being kicked now.

  "I think he dead," another voice said.

  "Lazy human!" the first voice said and I got kicked again.

  "Take to Tormist," a third voice said. "Stop kicking or he die, then you take his place!"

  There was a grunt and I felt my left foot picked up and grabbed as I was unceremoniously dragged off across the rough ground. That lasted for a few minutes, and then I was dragged up a couple of steps and inside.

  I knew it was inside because the burning of the sun stopped, and it was cool. Also the ground was now smooth and I didn't feel rocks tearing at my back as I was dragged. Opening my eyes, I could see a blurry looking ceiling above me, and as things started to come into focus, I noticed an orc was dragging me along. I tried to pull my arms down to my sides as they were splayed out above my head from being dragged, but I was too weak to move.

  When he dragged me down a staircase, I was barely able to keep my head from banging down the steps. Though once I got to the bottom I wondered why I had even bothered? I was going to die; sooner rather than later I was sure. The only difference I could think of was that sooner would probably hurt less than later. Though again, why I was still alive was a strange question.

  "What do you have for Tormist, soldier?" an old orc with a slightly better command of English said, when the orc had finally stopped dragging me and dropped my leg.

  "We found this human to the north. He was with two women, like we had been warned. We caught him. Grognick told me to bring him here."

  "What about the other two?"

  "Dead," the orc said.

  "Where are their bodies?"

  "Not much left," the orc shrugged.

  "Was that before or after you used them?" the older orc joked.

  "It matter?"

  "No, this will do. Put it on the table."

  I thought he was talking to the orc, but he turned and left. Instead two other, smaller and less fierce looking orcs came over and picked me up and put me on the table.

  "Let Tormist look at you," the older orc muttered and came over to me, bending over and looking into my eyes, then examining my mouth, and my ears.

  "You alive?" he asked and when I said nothing he poked me in the side causing me to grunt.

  "Yes, alive." He turned away and addressed the other two.

  "Lock him in a cell, alone. Have one of the slaves give water and food. He is too weak to talk. Tormist need him stronger. If he dies, you will be whipped. Now do."

  The other two picked me up, one grabbing the arms, the other the legs and carried me to a cell that was not far from there. They set me on a mat and went away. A while later a young girl came and holding my head up, she gave me water to drink, then a little food. I fell asleep quickly after that.

  Three more times she fed me. By the third time I was able to sit up on my own.

  "I'm not hungry," I told her while staring down at my bare feet. I was almost completely naked, wearing only the ragged remains of my underwear, covered in dried blood, dirt, sweat and other filth. I had cuts, bruises and scabs all over my body.

  "If you do not eat, they will kill me," she said, looking at me with a plaintive expression on her face.

  I looked her over, she was young, probably only a kid, thirteen? Fourteen? She had scars all over her naked body, with dark circles around her eyes. She looked half-starved and for a moment I wondered if perhaps I would be doing her a favor by not eating.

  Instead I took the bowl and quickly choked down the food in it. At least the taste wasn't as bad as the smell, and the tepid water was almost tasteless as well.

  She left then, the orc who had escorted her here, locking the door to my cell and leaving me alone with my thoughts.

  The cell I was in was barren, except for the thin straw mat on the floor, a pitcher of water to drink and a bucket for me to use as a toilet. I slowly started to look over my body. Between the sunburn and the bruises everywhere, it was an exercise in agony. All of my joints hurt, my ribs ached, my hair was matted with blood and my head was tender in a couple of spots where I'd obviously been hit. I was surprised that I didn't have any broken bones.

  I found that I could stand, though it hurt and I was none too steady on my feet as I was still fairly dizzy and very tired. So lying down on the mat I curled up and quickly fell asleep, thankful for the lack of nightmares, or even dreams.

  I awoke to the sound of someone banging on the bars to my cell with a knife. Sitting up was an
exercise in pain, it took me three times to manage it. I looked up to see an orc outside my cell, possibly one of the ones who had carried me inside, as he was not as big as the ones we had fought. He pointed to the bowl of food and the fresh pitcher of water that had been set inside the gate, then moved on.

  So I ate it. Then after taking a drink of water and using the other bucket, I lay back down and slept some more. I still hurt all over, but I didn't feel as weak or as dizzy as I had before. I wondered if I had had a concussion? I still wondered why I was alive, why I hadn't been killed, like ....

  I quickly moved away from that line of thought. I didn't want to think about it. Especially not right now. Maybe later. If there was a later. Hopefully there wouldn't be a later.

  I was woken up again by a light kick to the kidney, causing me to gasp in pain as I rolled away from the foot.

  "On feet!" a rather large orc grunted.

  A smaller one was with him as well, he looked like the one who had brought me food earlier, but I couldn't be sure.

  I slowly got to my feet, I still hurt, but I wasn't as dizzy as I was before.

  "Face wall!" the orc commanded and brandished his sword.

  I considered him for a moment, if I attacked him, here and now, I'd lose of course. He was armed and I wasn't, plus I was still wounded and weak. Still, the idea appealed to me, because I'd most likely end up dead.

  I suddenly got an intense feeling that this wasn't the time to die, not yet, and as the orc brandished the sword a second time, I turned and faced the wall as the second one seized my arms and pulling them behind my back attached manacles to them. After he did that, a collar was put around my neck and a lead attached to it and I was led stumbling from the cell and down a hallway into a room.

  The room smelled horrible, the scent of rotten blood and worse things filled the air. There were instruments of torture everywhere, and I was dragged unwillingly over to a table in the center of the room as my feet refused to cooperate any longer.

  I tried to fight them as they pushed me onto the table, but a hit to the head stunned me long enough for the big one to toss me up on it, and the smaller one to secure me to it, my legs and upper arms tied in place, my hands uncomfortably under me, the manacles digging into my back.

  Once secured, they left me there.

  I shivered and tried to look around the room, but the leash attached to the collar was tied to the table and while I could turn my head from side to side, I wasn't able to raise it at all.

  "Much better," I heard a voice, and turning to look I could see the old orc, Tormist I guess his name was, walking up to the table.

  "Time for questions. What is your name?"

  "Paul, Paul Young," I told him. I didn't see any reason to lie; it wasn't like I knew anything anyway.

  "Cooperating, good, good," he said and nodded.

  And then he brought his arm around, up and then down, hitting me in the gut, hard with a sap. The shock of the unexpected blow made me gasp and I tried to sit up in reaction, but I was tied down in place and so there was nowhere I could go.

  He didn't stop, but continued to hit me, four, five, six more times, finishing off with a blow to my groin that made me see stars and left me gasping.

  "It will be worse, if you resist," Tormist said as I gasped and groaned, struggling against my bonds.

  "Tell me, what were you doing?"

  "Looking for a safe place to spend the night!" I gasped.

  "Lie," he said and beat me some more.

  "Why were you there?" he asked once I'd regained my breath.

  "We couldn't go south, or north, it wasn't safe!"

  I got beat some more.

  "Then why were you there?"

  "We thought if we went east, we could eventually turn south and go home!"

  "Lie," and that one earned me the longest beating I'd gotten so far. I only knew it was over when I got doused with a bucket of filthy water. I apparently had passed out.

  "You come to kill our leader, admit it!" Tormist accused and hit me in the side of the head, stunning me for a moment.

  "Who?" was all I could manage at that point.

  He beat me some more, and thankfully I passed out again.

  When I came to, I was lying on the floor of the cell; my hands were still shackled behind my back. I tried to roll over and sit up, so I could get a drink, but with my hands behind me, there wasn't much of anything I could do as I was feeling dizzy again.

  I tested the shackles, they were further apart then handcuffs, so rolling onto my side I bent over as far as I could, gasping in pain as the bruised muscles all along my chest and abdomen complained. But I was able to work my hands down past my butt. The hard part done, I stopped and caught my breath for a few minutes and let my body rest.

  Some time later I got the shackles under one leg and past my foot, then the other, and I had my still shackled hands in front of me. I rested a bit longer, to stop my hands from shaking and to let the blood on my wrists dry from where the edges of the manacles had cut into them. It had been a painful and tiring exercise, but definitely worth it. I picked up the pitcher of water, took a long drink, crawled over to the mat and fell asleep.

  I was woken up at some point when the daily food bowl was delivered. I ate it, drank some more water, and went back to sleep. Tomorrow was another day, and I was sure that the beatings would continue, no matter what I did.

  The next day started off the same, only this time as I had my hands in front of me, they hung me off a hook suspended from the ceiling, which left me standing on my toes. Tormist started me off with a whipping. I'd never been whipped before; I'd heard stories about it. The reality was worse. Far worse.

  "Tell me about the army," Tormist said when he was finished.

  "It's big," I gasped. "It has lots of people in it."

  That earned me a lash.

  "How many?"

  "I don't know."

  That got me two more lashes.

  "I don't know!" I yelled at him. "I was never in it!"

  "Lie! You were seen with it!"

  That got me whipped until I passed out. I woke up to a face full of water. I could feel the blood running down my arms, as the manacles had again cut into my wrists. It took me a minute to find my feet and get them under me, and take the pressure off.

  I wasn't sure what hurt more however, my wrists, or my shoulders.

  "How big?" I got asked again.

  I panted and got ready to get whipped again, "I was only with them for a few days. There were a couple thousand dwarves, maybe the same for elves? I don't know about the rest, tens of thousands? Hundreds? I don't know."

  I only got whipped three times for that. I still lost my footing on the now wet floor however and it took me a couple of minutes to catch my breath and regain my footing to take the pressure off of my arms and my wrists. It was strange, it hurt, it hurt possibly more than anything I'd ever experienced in my life. But I didn't care about the pain. I honestly didn't care anymore.

  "Why did you desert?"

  "Their Chosen One doesn't like me," I grunted, "and I don't like him. He asked me to do a favor for him. I did, and then I left."

  Tormist laughed and only gave me a single lash that time. I almost managed to stay on my feet.

  "Why does he hate you?"

  "We have a history," I muttered.

  "You know him?" Tormist said, rather surprised.

  Suddenly I had a feeling that maybe I had said too much.

  "I'm his father’s brother’s nephew’s cousin’s former roommate!" I said and laughed.

  He whipped me unconscious for that one. I guess he wasn't much of an old movie fan.

  They didn't feed me that night. The meaning of that didn't take long to set in. I should have been scared, hell - I should have been terrified. But for some reason I wasn't. Sure, it was going to hurt, probably hurt more than anything I could imagine. But it wouldn't last. And then it would never hurt again.

  I slept rather soundly after
that.

  When they woke me up the next morning, I was actually rather eager to go, to get it all over with, once and for all. I was actually smiling when they hung me up. This time they tied my legs to a set of rings in the floor, and winched me up until I was pulled rather taunt.

  I couldn't help but notice the brazier in the corner, it looked very hot and it had several metal rods sticking out of it.

  Yeah, definitely the last day of questioning.

  Tormist came in, and he didn't even whip me. He just came up to me and noticing that I was smiling, he smacked me hard across the face.

  When that didn't stop me smiling, he backhanded me.

  "Tell Tormist about the Chosen One!"

  "So did they give you this job because you weren't good enough to be a warrior?" I asked him.

  He punched me in the balls then, and I saw stars as I gasped. Apparently I'd hit on a sore spot.

  "Tormist is Aybem's most trusted questioner!" he replied hotly. "I always get the answers that he needs! None can resist me!"

  I gasped and nodded slowly, "So, you're saying that you're a coward and the other orcs won't...."

  I was cut off as he grabbed me by the neck and started to strangle me. Who knew it would be this easy? When I started to laugh I think he thought I was choking, as he let me go.

  Of course he didn't take that well either.

  "Tormist will teach you respect!" he walked over to the brazier and pulled out one of the rods. It was glowing at the tip. He then walked around behind me and started to beat me with it.

  I was actually glad I didn't have any food in my stomach, for all that it hurt, the smell of my own burning flesh was making me want to retch. This was it, the beginning of the end. I thought about all the shit I'd had to put up with for the last year, hell the last two years, longer even. I knew he'd have more questions, well screw him, I was only going to give one answer. The one I'd once been taught to give years ago.

  "Tell Tormist about the Chosen!" he yelled.