I was strong and remained strong. Missy would always be there when I needed her — my rock — and although she would still talk my ear off about any old nonsense, she would never let me forget about the mission: the 9thFortress, prisoner 2020, and of course, the ultimate goal of being reunited with Kathy, whose face was so far away in my memory now.
***
It was twenty-two months, five days and three hours into my stay when Bludgeon did something remarkably out of the ordinary. Instead of scoffing his food at the dinner table, spitting out his grog and pushing for a fight — he chewed his food carefully, using a fork and napkin. He drank his wine with delicate sips, and to my astonishment, even offered to share. There were no ravenous swallows and burps, no crawling bugs or hanging insects. He was the thoroughly well mannered and courteous dinner guest throughout. I wasn't fooled though, not for a second. Another trick, another trap, another something. No, I was not fooled.
All through dinner I waited for the punch line to this sick joke. Anything out of the ordinary always meant something terrible followed, and I could not eat expecting it. It would come and I would be ready: another spear thrown, another punch to dodge, another lesson to learn… but still, still there was only the polite chewing of two men at dinner.
Bludgeon picked up his napkin and dabbed the corner of his lips. He then broke the silence, which rattled me even more; for the centaur spoke; he did not shout, he did not scream, but conversed in a normal and calm tone of voice, 'Why am I training you, Fox?'
I took my time with the answer, and time was given. 'Don't you know, Sir?' I asked, lowering my head. So unsure I was of the situation that my legs shook uncontrollably under the table. Bludgeon took a heavy breath, finally wearing that impatient expression I knew so well. His attack was coming…
'I want…' he replied, exhaling that breath, 'you to tell me.'
'I will tell you what I know, Master. If that will please you?'
'It would…' he nodded. 'Very much so.'
Bludgeon engaging me in conversation? Was this today's challenge? To politely converse with a man I despise? Whatever surreptitious test this was — I was going to pass it.
My belly ordered me to eat so I did, taking advantage of Bludgeon's earlier offer of wine. If this conversation was coming to an abrupt end, then at least I got a drink out of it. I sipped back the wine and it was delicious; home-made, tangy and sweet at the same time.
'Well?' said Bludgeon, interested. 'Tell me what you know lad. Tell me all of it.'
I took another drink. I would be frank, he might be playing games but I'd give it to him straight.
'I have to go to Hell. There is a prison called the 9thFortress…'
'And what,' he inquired, without pause; 'is your purpose at such a horrific place?'
The words 'horrific place' weren't lost on me. 'I'm to rescue one of its inmates: prisoner 2020. I have no idea who this person is, but the mission is to bring him back to the Waiting Plain. That's all I know… Master.'
'A rescue mission?' he replied, combing the fingers through his fuzzy beard. 'Hmm. To meet the scientist Newton, then all the way to me… to
'That's what I was told.'
'How curious.' he whispered. 'How very curious indeed.'
'Could you tell me something master? Why do you share a drink with me?'
'I like you,' he answered, straight faced and sincere. 'I tell you that.'
I waited for his plate to fly across the table, or the cutlery, or the table itself. I waited…
'You are strong now,' he added, 'in body and mind you are strong. Are you ready for the 9th Fortress? That I cannot say, but you are ready for my final exercise.'
Stunned, my shaking legs went to jelly and I was grateful now to be sitting. Bludgeon meanwhile continued down this vein still with no sign of that infamous temper. 'Of all I have trained you are unique in two ways. One, you have not once tried to murder me.'
I hid my eyes behind a hand. The many nights I wanted to, only fear held me back.
'And the second?' I asked, changing the subject.
'The second is that you are magnanimous. All warriors are selfish beings; the goal of glory is a drug in their blood — to be the best of the best whoever lived, at any cost! It's what makes these individuals great, and damned. It is what made that samurai Kat a legend! Can one be both a great warrior whilst making the safety of others a priority? I didn't think so — until I met you boy.'
'What are you saying, Master?'
Bludgeon guzzled the last of his wine with an unmistakably proud gleam in his eye. 'I am saying that you are no longer a child… and I believe this belongs to you.'
My dagger and belt slid along the table and into my hand. I removed the dull knife from its pouch, I could use it now; the weapon was comfortable in my palm. I now felt capable of commanding such power, of doing it justice even.
Thoroughly overwhelmed, I couldn't believe the end was here. I'd taken all the centaur had to thrown at me and made it to the other side; the worse for wear maybe, but alive.
We finished our meal in peace. A meal reminding me of one I had with my Dad a long time ago; a bitter- sweet night of passage, a real drink and respectful puff on the old man's pipe — the boy now a man in his father's eyes.
'Did you say…' I asked later; 'my final exercise?'
Bludgeon smiled, it was the first genuinely warm smile I'd seen on that face. It still did not sit well on his features, but it was honest enough.
'Leave the dagger belt on the table lad, you won't need it. Come along…'
12. The Red Door
The walk was long and conversation, as always, short. We arrived at a door with obligatory torches burning at each side. I would pass this particular door dozens of times a day, and was always curious why it was the only one in the cave with a lick of paint — red paint. By now, I had seen most of the rooms this mountain had to offer, all but this one. Unusually, Bludgeon was not so aloof about this door, wearing an anxious expression bordering on worry. I knew without any doubt now that there was something special behind this red wood, and I could not wait to see it.
With a screeching hinge, Bludgeon opened the door to reveal no wire crossing, steaming vapour cloud or splendid training room, but a wonky looking spiral staircase and a freezing cold draft.
This staircase was a narrow, iron construction, twirling downward. Bludgeon led the way, and as I descended, I gazed at another window cut out of the rock; a circular cavity. No pains of glass held the weather at bay, and sure enough, it blew in as a mix of snow and sleet.
Nearing the foot of the staircase, I stopped to allow the sleet to drop and melt over my tongue.
'You could fly a jet out of here!' I yelled, over blustery winds. 'I bet you could!'
'Jet?' bawled Bludgeon, over the elements.
'Never-mind.'
The view out of this window was picturesque; stunning Alp like mountains with white peaks swelling over the horizon and sheets of snow smearing the valleys between.
'Winter approaches!' the master announced, taking the last few steps off the corkscrew staircase.
Following, my attention was drawn to a waft of hot air from over my shoulder. Turning, I gasped in horror and awe. Bludgeon was stroking the head of a dragon. Curled up like a pet, the creature was the size of four London buses stacked together, and just as red. Its lizard like skin was covered in a pattern of scales with sharp edges; its tail went several times around it's body, ending in a deadly serrated tip; it's hot breath gave off an uncomfortable heat, and I was thankful that the thing was asleep.
'Holy-shit!' I cried. 'It's a dragon!'
'It is. Come closer. Come!'
I wobbled closer and my foot suddenly plunged into thick ooze — a clear mucus running like a tap from this
