《Dishonor》Chapter 11: King of the Hill (Part 4)
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I dropped the flag and held up my hands just as the deep voice had ordered.
“Now stand up.” the voice sounded confident.
I slowly stood up; staring out at the dome, and doing my best not to look down at the dizzying ledge.
“Hands stay up and turn around!” He shouted at me. Was he actually nervous under his bravado? What was there to be nervous about when facing an unarmed woman.
I slowly turned while doing my best to inch just ever so slightly away from the edge of the stack.
Just a couple paces away from me was a blond haired skinny young man in guard’s uniform. Had they sent the newest recruit up to grab me? He was holding a single shot pistol out at me with quivering hands.
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m actually really terrible at any sort of fighting. The villagers tried really hard to train me so that I could fight off bandits, but all I did was get in the way.” He didn’t seem any calmer, and his pistol was waving all over the place now.
“W-walk forward,” He stuttered at me.
I started to step forward letting my hands fall back.
“Hands up! Keep your hands up!” He was so silly.
Whatever. I held my hand up so he could see them. “Really, it's not me you need to worry about. The soldiers hidden in the grass could easily take you out before you shoot me.”
His eyes widened and he turned all over the place while trying to keep his gun pointed at me. “I don't see anyone else!”
“Of course you don’t. They’re hidden. Men, it's time. Let’s go meet with a king.” I saw the grass moving as they stood up from their positions. The young man was breathing fast and clearly flustered having no idea what to do in this situation. Why did they send such a young recruit up here? Did they want him to accidentally shoot me and then use him as the scapegoat?
“I recommend putting the pistol down. I think they are hoping you will shoot me, and then you will die for your crimes. We won’t hurt you.” I smiled at him, hoping to come off as kind and non-threatening.
He glanced around at all of us. My squad had their hands raised up. At least everyone I could see did. There was one person missing. The one who led us to the stack and had walked up behind me was missing. Was he lying in the grass with his weapon pointed on the kid or had he gone back down to turn us in? What would be the point in turning us in now though? He must be choosing to be back up if we were shot at. I wouldn’t say anything or point it out.
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The kid lowered his pistol, but he did not holster it. He stared straight into my eyes, suspicion wrinkling around his eyes, “Don’t make any sudden moves or I will shoot you. Have your men walk down first. You will be the last one, and I will be right behind you.”
I nodded. The one who led us here still wasn’t standing up. I really hoped he wouldn’t shoot the kid as we were heading down. That would be the worst case scenario. The men weren’t moving. They seemed to be waiting for my command. “Proceed forward as directed. We are here to negotiate peace, not to fight.”
That seemed to be enough to get them moving. They all walked forward toward the stairs, and then moving clockwise started down it slowly disappearing off the top of the stack.
The young man waved me forward with the pistol still in his hand. “Your turn exile lady.”
He really needed to be careful about waving that pistol around. I stepped forward and walked toward the stairs, and as I got close to the stairs I could hear him moving behind me. I stepped on the stairs, and no gun shots sounded.
Clink. I heard his footsteps hitting the stairs. Still no gunshots. I breathed a sigh of relief as we moved out of view of the top level of the stack. The unaccounted for man had not shot us. I still had no idea of his purpose for not showing, but whatever it was I was grateful that he hadn’t ruined the plan.
As we descended, the only sounds I could hear was the clinking of our steps on the stairs. The grass-like plant on the level we were walking past was eerily still, just like it had been this morning. No one was here working the stack. Was this normal?
The further down we went, the more other sounds creeped into the stairwell. The baaing of sheep. The crowing of a rooster. The clucking of hens. I could see the sheep held in their tiny pens. But there were no humans here feeding them, and the sheep baaed at us, begging for food. We went through another level, and I could see the chickens in all their tiny stacked cages unfed.
It seemed they really had held everyone off the stack. Were they afraid we would try and use the workers as hostages? That didn’t make sense. Maybe they were afraid the workers would be part of our plan and would be bolstering our forces? That made a little more sense. I would probably find out momentarily.
It was the level of the stalky plant, and at the far edge of it I could just barely see the bare ground that surrounded the stack before descending into the leaves of the stalky plant.
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I felt something push into my back, and I turned just enough to see the young guard had his pistol in my back again. “I’ve already demonstrated I’m not going to hurt you. Why pull out the pistol.”
His eyes were staring past me. “Orders are orders. Keep walking.”
Ahh, the order of his superior officers must have had something to do with the pistol waving.
I stepped out onto the ground, and walked past leaves on the stalks. One leaf sliced past my face and left a stinging line behind. I ran my gloved hand over it, but saw no blood.
Ahead I could see the opening in the level’s field. Beyond it my men seemed to be turning. What was waiting out there?
A line of kneeling soldiers with very long barreled pistols pointed at me answered my question. They weren’t all pointed at me. They were spread out along the edge of the stack with all of them pointing directly toward the stack.
“Line up along the edge. Hands in the air if you don’t want to be shot!” A deep voiced man was commanding from behind the line.
I lifted my hands up and moved left next to the soldier who walked in front of me. The pressure on my back disappeared and the young city guardsman walked out toward the line.
“That’s the last of them, Sir!” He stopped and saluted the man behind the line.
“Good job soldier.” The man responded.
The guardsman moved forward to walk out, but none of the line of kneeling men moved. He looked at them, clearly unsure of how to proceed.
“Are you that stupid?” The man who seemed to be the commanding officer asked and then sighed. “I guess you are. Go around to the right to the edge of the musket line.”
“Yes Sir!” The young man took off running to the right.
The officer’s head turned toward us, his eyes shadowed by the brim of his hat seemed to be looking at me. “It's sad you lot are being led by such a weak and lousy leader. A proper leader wouldn’t be leading you all to your deaths the way this one is.” He paused and looked down the line. “The King has agreed to speak to this woman before you are all executed.”
With the side of my vision, I glanced down the line. All of my soldiers stared straight ahead without even shaking. I stood myself as straight as I could. I couldn’t let these brave men down. I was with these men to the end. I raised my chin up.
I couldn’t resist a bit of jabbing at this man who called me weak, “Glad to hear that at least before my next execution date I finally get to talk to the King. I guess this is the privilege that comes with multiple attempts to kill me?”
“Silence!” The man commanded.
I smiled at the red color I could see gracing his cheeks.
“Search them! We can’t allow a single weapon to enter the King’s audience chamber!” He yelled out, and from behind what the officer had called a musket line a number of uniformed men appeared. Every other musket man stood up and stepped back to allow these new men through. Once they were through, the musket men kneeled down and pointed their long pistols back at us.
A uniformed man stepped forward toward me, and next to me I could see another stepping up to the soldier on my left.
The one in front of me started with patting my hair.
“Do you think you’ll find a hair clip knife or something? What could would that do against pistols?”
The man didn’t seem to even register my quest as his hands kept patting me and moving down over my body with complete detachment. He reached my feet and grabbed my foot pulling me off balance, except he grabbed me steady me, and then yanked my boot off.
“You could have just asked me to lift my foot.” I told him, but he still said nothing.
He took the other boot in the same wordless fashion, but this time I was ready and didn’t need steadying.
He stood back up, gripped my shoulders and turned me to face the stalky plants of the stack. He patted me down again. To my right I could see my men facing the same rough treatment.
My shoulders were grabbed again, and I was pulled in a half turn, but stopped from facing the musket line. In front of me, I saw my men were all bootless. We were like a dishonored line, except we had our uniforms on.
“Search men return!” The commanding officer yelled. I started to turn to face him again. “Rebels keep your position you were put in or I will shoot you before we reach the King!” He shouted, and I turned back to facing my soldier’s back. I couldn’t be the downfall of the plan.
“Musket men, Attention!” To my right a clattering of feet and people was probably the men standing.
“Right Face!” He yelled and a single sound of movement came from my right.
“Forward, March!” The soldiers in front of me all stepped off in sync as if they were trained in this. I moved to follow, but I could tell I was not in step with everyone around me. Dishonored were never expected to look nice moving around the city.
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