Welcome back to Mythology Monday. Here is the next part to some of Demetrius’ history. I hope you enjoy it. As always this is unedited, so please take that into account.
Smoking Guns Part Two: ©2018 Misty Harvey
Demetrius lifted a hand to his top hat, pulling down a pair of goggles. This particular lens allowed him to see in the dark. Given the fact that they were continuing to follow him, he had no choice, but to make his answer perfectly clear. Sometimes the royal guard was so daft. After all, they didn’t hire sophisticated types there, merely able bodies that could fire cannons or guns. Often, he had to wonder if even that was a bit of strain on their intellect.
He sat back, waiting. Each step they took brought them closer to him. The moment they went blind in the darkness he smiled. Now was his time to get his point across. Demetrius stepped out of the deep shadow. His can raised above his head to come down on the nearest royal guard. It fell limply from his hand, clattering on the ground.
The scent, he would recognize it anywhere. It invaded his nostrils and lungs. His head swam as he fell backward against another body before hitting the ground. Everything around him faded in and out of his vision. Above him, he could just make out another man. He didn’t appear to be in the same dress as the royal guard. A deep scar ran across his face from above one eyebrow diagonal over his face. He was laughing as he called the royal guard over.
That was the last thing that Demetrius could remember before he woke up in the cool damp room. It was covered in wet stones with only a cot for him to lay on. It was a room of some sort with only a tiny window to provide minimal light. Light? It was daylight now. How long had he been out? He had no clue, it could have been hours, days…it was all disorienting. His ears strained to pick up on anything that he could place, but it was quiet, beyond the squeaks of a few mice.
Demetrius tried to find his cane, but there was no sign of it. It would make walking a bit harder as he tended to favor his right leg after an injury as a child. However, they were smart. He hadn’t been dumb when designing the cane. The actual shaft of the cane was a dart gun equipped with a tranquilizer. Upon that the top pulled out into a sword. It was his life to keep himself armed.
They’d stripped him of them all. Demetrius noticed as he patted himself down. Even his shoes were removed. There was no way they could have known the dangers those possessed unless they knew him. They probably simply removed them to keep him from running away, that had to be it. Nobody he knew would be stupid enough to call such a war with him or his family.
He pushed himself to a stand, keeping a hand on his right pant leg. It was stiff from the cold air, but he still managed to make his way over to the large wooden door. In the center of it, a window with bars was placed.
Demetrius wrapped his hands around the bars and leaned in, trying to see out. At the end of the hall, he could just make out a royal guard member. If he could only get his attention, he might be able to manipulate his way out of the cell. He placed his tongue between his teeth and tsked, trying to get the man’s attention. When there was no movement he did it several times.
‘I hear you just fine, Mr. Billinghurst. I’m under direct orders to leave you be until they arrive.’ The male voice echoed in the expanse of the underground.
Ah, it now made perfect sense. He was in a dungeon of some sort. Whoever had been so kind as to use the knock out gas had been working with the royal guard as he originally thought. Now, all he could do was sit and wait to see what they wanted with him.
He heard a commotion in the stairwell just past the guard. Straining his eyes, he looked to see if he could make out anyone, but only other royal guard members appeared. Eight if his calculations were correct.
Demetrius took a few steps back as they stopped in front of his cell. He could overpower one or two by hand, but the others would be able to bring him back under control. It would be best for him to wait for the perfect opportunity to reach his freedom presented itself. Until then, he’d bide his time.
When the door opened, he stood there, regardless of the spears pointed at his throat. Their decorative feathers swayed in the wind of movement. Demetrius tucked his fingers into the small pockets on his vest.
‘I have no intentions of giving you any trouble, so could you kindly lower your weapons?’ His voice was cool and monotone.
The group exchanged looks before the one that must be in charge nodded his head. Each spear in turn lowered but given the rigidity in the muscles of the guards, any tiny movement would see him shishkabobed on the other end of one. They were far too twitchy to even risk such a thing.
Demetrius stood still, not daring to so much as twitch an eyebrow at their intensity. He swallowed as the head guard moved behind him and worked on chaining his hands and legs together with longer chains reaching between the two so he could walk if only a bit. When the guard gave him a bit of a push, he had to hurry and jerk himself to a stop a mere centimeter away from the tip of a spear.
‘Whoa there, Captain. If you don’t mind, I can walk myself. I’d like to avoid getting a new piercing by one of your twitchy guards.’ Demetrius stood, giving them distance from the tip of the spear to his soft flesh.
‘Easy, you nits. We’re under orders not to harm him unless provoked. Now back off some.’ The captain commanded as he took hold of the inside of Demetrius’ elbow.
He yanked him free of the cell, causing Demetrius to stumble a bit before regaining his footing. The chains around his ankles kept his strides much smaller than he was used to. As they moved up the staircase, he tried to gauge how far down that dungeon had been. It was hard to judge approximately where the dungeon had been located without seeing more of the castle.
The moment they reached the top of the stairs, Demetrius tried to take in as much detail as possible. So focused on attaining as much information as possible, he didn’t notice the other man waiting at the top. Soon a burlap sack was tossed over his head, darkening everything. There would be no way to judge anything at this point.
They marched him through halls and upstairs until he couldn’t tell one direction from the other. By the time he was thoroughly dizzy, they pushed him down to the ground. A groan escaped his lips as he forced to his knees. The instant throb of the old injury radiated, making him see white in the darkness.
One of the guards lifted the bag from his head. The instant exposure to light had him squinting. When he could see through the watering of his eyes he peered in front of them. There stood two people he never thought he’d see again. The nerve of them to drag him here against his will.
In case you missed the first part, you can find it here. Stay tuned for the final conclusion next week. Until then, remember to L.O.L. (Live it, Own it, Love it) or it isn’t worth doing.