'He who cannot be crippled' (Ledgic/The Hawthorns) Part I/II

‘He who cannot be crippled’

It was hard to tell whether it was day or night in this dungeon he now called home. The light dared not even creep through any holes or cracks in the stone walls that lined his prison. He had begun to grow used to his accommodation, and it had even begun to amuse him, the ability to constantly get the back of every Hawthorn up to the point of them spitting in rage.

All bar one, however, as he had actually met someone close to an ally. He turned his head and smirked at the rope tied firmly around his wrists, the rope that he had asked her to put back in place. A young woman had entered his prison in the early hours of yesterday afternoon, she had untied him, and she had given him food and water. He never discovered much about her, beyond the horrible burns that littered her face and neck. She had even stated that her offering help to him had not been out of spite or revenge, and that should he want it, she would return.

He asked her to, along with requesting she bind him once again. As much as he was talented when it came to escapes, until he had eaten that afternoon, he had been without food and water for quite some time. Even if she had left him untied, he wouldn’t have been able to get past the guard outside his door, let alone make his way out of the mansion he knew he was beneath.

She had also told him that Landrus would return today, and perhaps there was a little piece of him that sought another conversation with the man. He wasn’t afraid of Landrus, nor was he unprepared for whatever tricks he might pull. He lifted his head and clenched his hands into fists, tugging them toward the ceiling a few times. She had replaced his bindings as tightly as they had originally been placed, he wouldn’t be getting himself loose and killing Landrus today, it would seem.

He rested his head back down against the wooden rack he had been lying against for days. He had spent a while trying to figure out exactly why they hadn’t killed him yet, the two Hawthorns that had stood over him some nights before, they had beaten him and taken a vial of his blood. He hadn’t even been able to make sense of that, they thought the blood of a Caan was filth… what possible use would they have for it?

Even with what they had stolen from him already, there was more they required. Or perhaps Landrus was simply going to enter the room and end his life. Ledgic smirked slightly as he tilted his head, he would deal with it that way. It made no sense to keep your enemy alive for so long, especially when your entire reason for fighting them was to kill them. He closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh; going across the only thing he could come up with.

Inside him dwelled not only his natural shadow energy, but also that of Delzen Hawthorn. He had been Landrus’ master and Ledgic had murdered him in cold blood, revenge would be sweet regardless, but it would be made sweeter if he were to kill Ledgic with the shadow energy of his dead master. He let out another deep sigh as he opened his eyes again, staring at the barely visible stone slabs of the ceiling. It was one of those rare moments where he actually wondered if he could come out of something alive.

He turned his head slowly at the sound of a bolt sliding across the door. The door swung open forcefully and slammed against the inside of the room. The tall, thin and grey image of Landrus Hawthorn walked into the dimly lit dungeon. He turned his head and looked his prisoner, strapped to the torture racks, lying against the essence of many people before him. He grinned widely and turned, beginning to walk against the room. He looked down to the open book in his hands and began to read.

‘And it is said that if you are faced with your enemy, you are to strike him down. There is no justice in the length of the murder of man, there is no satisfaction in the lingering notion of death’

He stopped at Ledgic’s side and snapped the book shut, the torchlight nearby flickered against the draft. Ledgic watched as Delzen slowly slid the book into his robes, before folding his arms and looking down.

‘I once believed in those words, until I came across you. You are the exception to that rule, cursed boy, your own deeds have granted you that’ he said in a slithering tone, the same tone that he always seemed to keep.

‘Well, ‘least I’ve got somethin’ eh? Wha’ ye got? Bad join’s, goin’ bald an’ yer nob ain’ workin’ na’ more. I reckon I win’ said Ledgic as he looked up at Landrus with a smirk.

He was right, there was a little part of him that wanted to anger Landrus for a second time, just to prove he could. Landrus simply smirked as he rested his gloved palm against Ledgic’s chest and slowly began whispering quietly. Ledgic raised an eyebrow for a moment before jolting forward, his chest rising and arching his back away from the rack he was strapped to. He gritted his teeth and let out a dull growl at the sharp pain in his chest, only being made worse by the sensation of something breaking the skin.

‘You shouldn’t struggle, this process will be harsh enough on you without the addition of you squirming around like a child. Though, I suppose, considering who you are and where you’re from… you’re rather used to squirming around, especially as a child’ said Landrus in the same slithering tone, though it was lower, as if whatever he was doing was taking it’s tone on him.

He removed his hand quickly and Ledgic’s back slammed down against the wooden rack. He lifted his head sharply and peered at his chest, a large rune had appeared on the skin, with a dark spot of shadow energy in it’s centre. He took his gaze from it and looked up at Landrus, who simply returned the gaze with a large grin.

‘I’m very sorry, but I’m going to have to take the Hawthorn connection you have. You see, not only do I believe my master’s shadow energy will be more powerful in my hands, but I believe that you tarnish his very birth by carrying it’ said Landrus, his voice getting louder, only for it to end with a sharp fist connecting with Ledgic’s face.

His head slammed down against the rack and he opened his eyes to his own blood spread across the rack and his shoulder. He let out a cough and narrowed his eyes as his chest jerked slightly upward again. And there it was, a sudden pain that struck his entire body at once. He closed his eyes tightly as his fingers tensed and jerked around, desperately trying to free himself of his bindings. Nothing worked, and for the first time in a long time, he was unable to conceal the fact he was pain. The screams of Ledgic Caan filled the dark halls of the dungeon beneath the Hawthorn mansion.

Landrus loomed over Ledgic with his arms folded, peering from the rune on Ledgic’s chest to the floating crystal spinning slowly above him, suspended in the air via a separate shadow spell. He grinned slightly as what looked like small wisps of black smoke began to seep out of Ledgic’s skin, heading in the direction of the crystal. Ledgic’s body jerked wildly, his arms and legs tensing and jerking around, accompanied only by his cries and sound of skin against wood.

‘I do hope you manage to survive this. I’ll be back to check on you later, but as I said…’ Landrus spoke quietly as he leant down to whisper into Ledgic’s ear, the grin on his face as wide as the gap between his own. ‘Survive, child of the crippled forest. Because I need to make sure you can be risen again, to tear out the lungs of your loved ones’.

He stood up again and let out a quiet chuckle, one that could never be heard over Ledgic’s yelling. He turned and walked out of the room, gesturing for the guard to stop peering inside. He slammed the door behind him loudly and bolted it shut.

Ledgic blinked at a high speed, he was barely even capable of seeing through the pain. He had no control of his jerking limbs and with each tiny wisp of energy that dragged itself from him; he could feel his grip on life lessening.

--

Ledgic stepped out onto the balcony of his booty bay home and blinked slowly into the morning sun. Summer was never kind in Stranglethorn, and if it wasn’t for the fact his wife was as keen as he was when it came to night time activities, he wondered if he would ever get a wink of sleep at all, at this time of year.

He looked down over the railing as three figures approached the house, a young, black haired man in his late teenage years, a brunette girl of similar age up to the man’s shoulder in height and a small red headed girl, who was holding onto the young man’s hand tightly.

He narrowed his eyes at the sight of the young man dressed in a mesh of leather and mail armour, two daggers strapped to his belt and a single sword sheathed on his back. ‘Sa’… th’feck ye all dressed up fer?’ he called down to the figures.

All three of them stopped and looked up, all of them cracking a similar smirk up at the topless Ledgic. ‘I reckon ye already know th’answer t’that Dad’ said the boy as he let go of the young girl’s hand, as she dashed for the door of Ledgic’s home. ‘Yeah! He’s got ‘is last trainin’ session wit’ Zech today!’ shouted the girl.

Ledgic turned sharply as the young girl jumped up onto his back, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. He lifted her into his arms comfortably and smirked, before turning again and jumping over the rail, landing with a slap of his bare feet against the wooden floorboards of the bay.

‘Last one wit’ Zech don’ mean yer done trainin’, y’know’ said Ledgic as he stepped forward, standing before the two teenagers. ‘I know, plenty more with ye righ’?’ the boy said with a grin. Ledgic nodded and looked at the girl, ‘An’ Belle, yer goin’ climbin’ wit’ yer mum t’day a’righ’?’ he said loudly, as if trying to awake their mother from her slumber.

‘Yeah, gotcha Dad’ said Belle with a thumbs up directed at Ledgic.

With a yawn and a stretch of her arms, Aniane stepped out onto the deck and rested her arms on the rail. The oversized shirt she wore simply blew in the dull breeze as she stared down at the family she’d somehow managed to keep.

Ledgic turned on the spot, looking up at her with a smirk and a nod toward Lucas and Belle and jerked his head to the side slightly as the youngest of the children started waving her arms up at her mother.

--

Ledgic let out a shrill cry as he lifted his head and jerked his arms wildly in an attempt at freeing himself once again. It wasn’t enough, as proven by his body slamming down against the rack once again. He shook his head as a few tears managed to escape him, just as another few wisps of shadow energy pulled themselves through his skin.

--

TBC.

When she finds out, Annie is going to be angry.

Fine story, but damn, ouch.

Omnomnom! Lovely! \o/

I'm ah, well aware that this isn't the best writing I've ever done. Apparently today isn't the best day for it! However, he's the second and last part of this piece.

--

‘He who cannot be crippled’

II

‘Filth!’ he yelled.
‘You have his face, his scumbag face!’ he yelled again.
‘You are the culmination of your clan, and it would be my pleasure to put you down!’

‘Filth? … is tha’ really all I managed t’be? All these years, I did sa’ much… an’ now I’m righ’ back t’bein’ filth. An’… I’m gonna die fer nothing’

‘Die fer nothing’
‘Die’

‘Ye come back, alrigh’? No ‘eroics, get yer arse back ‘ere… ‘cause I’d miss ye’ she said.

‘Die fer nothin’? Na’body should die fer nothin’. An’ I… I’ve died t’many times, in t’many differen’ ways. I’m… Ledgic Caan, I don’ stay down, I don’ stay dead…’

--

Ledgic jolted forward again as the wisps of shadow energy continued to seep through his flesh and slowly make their way toward the crystal suspended in the air. He watched the process continue, his vision blurred by the tears he had started refusing to shed. The pain had not become any easier to deal with; in fact it only seemed to be getting worse.

On top of the anguish that came with the ritual, came the slight cuts forming on his chest, as if the shadow was beginning to leave wounds behind as it was drained from him. His wrists were bloody from the skin constantly rubbing against the rope that bound him. This had to be the most hopeless he had ever found himself, without a doubt.

He carefully leant back and rested his head against the rack, his chest heaving forward with every breath, with every wisp of shadow that left him. He continued to let out shouts of pain, he was completely powerless to prevent that, as much as he would have liked to. He closed his eyes, letting another few tears escape him and did his best to think of something else.

It was too hard, not only was he in agony, but it meant that a thousand different things raced through his mind. Every good moment, every bad… every time he’d ever defied those that would kick him while he was down. He let out a quiet groan as he realised that perhaps his life was truly flashing before his eyes. That these fleeting and painful moments were the last he would ever experience.

He had started off out as a child of the Caan village, each and every day filled with mockery and beatings. His blood littering the ground, his home, his room… broken bones cracked off every rock, wall and tree. But he had overcome that and ran away, he had been through so much across his years… and he had always hoped that his death would not follow that path. That he would be able to die peacefully, happily… as ridiculous as he knew he was being. Where was his reward? He had never expected to be thanked, to receive any sort of recognition for things he had done… but now as he found himself at the end, in the most pain he had ever experienced, he wanted his fucking reward.

‘Would ye stop cryin’ ye feckin’ pansy? Yer makin’ us look bad’

Ledgic opened his eyes narrowly and peered up at the figure standing at the side of the rack. He was littered in shadow, as though he was entirely made of it, the odd wisp peeling from him and making it’s way to the crystal.

‘Ye wan’ed sa’ badly t’be th’one in control o’ us, yeh? Sa’ stop makin’ an embarassmen’ o’ ye’self a’ready. Yer Ledgic feckin’ Caan, ye can survive anythin’!’

Each word simply echoed through his mind, with the pain of the ritual, it was more like each word was bouncing around inside his skull.

‘Don’ ye feckin’ give up! Don’ ye feckin’ dare!’

Ledgic turned his head to see another shadow covered figure, the figure of a woman that he knew very well. She was crying and throwing her arms around… she was the one he swore he’d never just abandon. He had told her so many times, and promised just as many, that he wouldn’t die and leave her alone. He had promised.

‘Promised…’ he thought. As his chest jerked forward again and he released another pained cry, he realised just how much he didn’t want to break his promises to those he cared about. There was one thing that Ledgic had maintained for the entirety of his life, and that was his promises. He never broke them, he refused to let people down… he did exactly as he said he would.

And with a final pained shout, Ledgic found himself slamming back against the rack. The crystal began spinning in the air as the rune slowly faded from Ledgic’s chest, leaving nothing but the bleeding wounds the shadow had left behind. He lifted his head sharply, as the crystal continued to spin and gasped for air. Unfortunately for him, it wasn’t a gasp of relief, but further pain. The sensation hadn’t faded, and he could tell that he had suffered damage at the hands of the ritual, not to mention the blood loss.

His head swung back against the rack with a thud, at the sudden inability of his neck to prop it up, his fingers slowly straightened out, the fists that he had maintained, he was now unable to keep. His breathing became sharp and sudden as he stared at the dirty stone ceiling of his prison.

--
‘Dad! ‘ey, Dad! We’re trainin’ t’day, righ’?’
‘Daaaaaaaaad, Lucas keeps feckin’ throwin’ mud down me’ shirt!’
‘I bloody love ye, Ledgic Caan’
‘Love ye Dad!’
‘Come ‘ere y’tart, its just salve! I’m not puttin’ it up yer damn nose!’
--

He continued to breathe sharply as he peered at the ceiling for a moment, the words of his wife and the future simply flowing through his mind. He had done everything he could to avoid this point, to… do as he always did and give death the finger. Only this time, it would seem, that he wasn’t as good as he used to be.

It was too much.

He slowly closed his eyes and though he continued to breath, sharply and painfully, he took a moment to accept the fact that he might not be going home after all. He turned his head very slowly at the sound of the door swinging open. He grunted and coughed, though he didn’t bother to open his eyes. He listened as the footsteps ceased, stopping at the side of the rack.

‘I’ll be taking this crystal now. So, son of the crippled forest, you’ve managed to survive this long. I am hugely impressed… however, you’re going to die without any medical assistance and you see… my people are all rather busy trying to track down your family.’

Landrus leaned down and smirked widely, as he whispered into Ledgic’s ear.

‘Your children will burn and your wife… well, let’s just say she’ll be fulfilling a duty of her gender, and then I will see her die at my feet. Not the most favourable of things to hear before one’s death, but I’m afraid you are deserving of nothing more. Your reward, Caan, is to die like the dog you are’

Landrus straightened up and continued to smirk, watching as Ledgic made no movements beyond the heaving of his chest. He turned and walked out of the room, slamming the door shut firmly. It was at this point that Ledgic fell into darkness, as the draft of the door had finally snuffed out the torches that lit his room.

‘End of th’line, eh?’

;_; I think this needs another chapter.

My favourite part were the words of his family running through his head. Really brought out, briefly and palpably, what he was seeming to be losing.