Part 42 "The Prince"

PART 42: THE PRINCE

Transcript made by jack

CWs: sounds of gore (fingernails, blood), body horror, insect horror (maggots, flies), assault, knife violence, corpses, teeth horror, murder

 

(BEGIN Part 42.)

 

(Falling rain, booming thunder, the skittering of insects, and rattling chains.)

 

UNKNOWN MAN: Help me! (Arthur makes a frightened noise.) Help… (He makes gasping noises of terror.) 

 

ARTHUR: What?

 

JOHN: Arthur, there is a man chained to the wall of this cavern!

 

ARTHUR (in horror): Jesus.

 

JOHN: We need to leave, Arthur! The ground is covered in bones. (Bones clatter.) They’re scattered across the earthen floor of this cave. Hundreds!

 

(The man continues to rattle his chains and make noises of fear.)

 

ARTHUR: Okay. Okay! W-W-What about…? What about helping? 

 

JOHN: Are you kidding? We are not alone in these caves, Arthur! And with every scream, he draws whatever is out there closer!

 

UNKNOWN MAN (begging): Help me!

 

ARTHUR: Well, we can’t abandon –

 

JOHN: We’re not. We can come back. 

 

(The man makes loud terrified noises. Arthur shushes him desperately.)

 

ARTHUR: Please! 

 

JOHN: Arthur!

 

ARTHUR: Please, please. (Bones rattle.) T-There’s something in the caves. (John grunts.) Your screams are going to draw it near.

 

JOHN: The man is bathed in darkness. The flashes of light from the hole in the ceiling above only give fragments of the image. I can barely make out his features. Only the shape of him 

chained to the wall. Each arm, as if on a cross. 

 

ARTHUR: Fuck. 

 

(From far away, a screech. The man starts to whimper and groan again.) 

 

JOHN: God damn it.

 

ARTHUR (shushing him): Okay, okay. Just be quiet, please. I’ll help you. I will, I’ll help you, just… quiet, please! Please, please. (The man quiets amidst Arthur’s shushing.)

 

JOHN: It is coming, Arthur!

 

ARTHUR: The bones. How deep, how many?

 

JOHN (confused): How…?

 

ARTHUR: How deep?

 

JOHN: I-I don’t know! There are piles in the corners, maybe. I have no way of knowing, I can barely see! (The creature screeches again. The man makes noises of fear and rattles his chains.)

 

ARTHUR: Fuck. 

 

JOHN: Quickly!

 

ARTHUR: We’re going to hide amongst them.

 

JOHN: Fine! Just do it! Here, here.

 

ARTHUR: Oh, God. (He grunts in exertion. The bones clatter.)

 

JOHN: Move the bones on top of you.

 

ARTHUR: Oh, God.

 

JOHN: Quickly! (The bones clatter.) Keep it together. Don’t move. It’s nearly here. (The creature makes a noise. The man starts to whimper. Arthur breathes shakily, then stays still. Insect skittering.) O-Oh… oh… oh… Jesus. (Heavy footfalls.) Arthur, she’s hunched over. Crooked. With large features. She walks as if searching the floor, hunched over. Her arms are… thin and bare. The flesh hangs off of her, sagging. She wears fur of some sort, slick with the same viscous liquid that coats the walls of the cave. Her hair is long, greasy-looking. And only remains in clumps, attached to her skull. (Arthur’s breath stutters.) I can barely make out her face, but… her eyes are bright in the darkness. 

 

(Footsteps. The man starts to sob.) She’s moved to the man on the wall! She’s… running her hand along his cheek, as if almost… lovingly. God. She’s skulking out of the room. She’s… She’s gone. 

 

(The bones clatter abruptly. Arthur spits.) 

 

ARTHUR (frenzied): Fuck! Fuck! 

 

JOHN: Stay quiet. 

 

ARTHUR: They’re in my fucking nostrils, John! (He breathes heavily.) 

 

JOHN: The man, Arthur! His features are hidden by the darkness, but. I can see his clothing. (Bones clatter.) He’s wearing gloves and a dark cloak. Red, maybe. 

 

ARTHUR: Who are you?

 

UNKNOWN MAN (huffing for breath): P… Prince… Prince… Prince…

 

JOHN: He’s having trouble speaking.

 

ARTHUR: Prince? That doesn’t make any sense. This wouldn’t be… what did she do to you? (The chains clatter. The prince starts to sob. ) It’s alright, it’s alright. How did you… How did you get here? What happened?

 

PRINCE: Ca… Ca…cart… ro… road… road.

 

JOHN: A cart. On the road.

 

ARTHUR: An accident?

 

(The prince whimpers emphatically.) 

 

JOHN: He’s nodding yes.

 

ARTHUR: Okay.

 

JOHN: He can clearly speak, but something is making it difficult. 

 

ARTHUR: What is… she?

 

PRINCE: W… W… Witch.

 

JOHN: A… witch?

 

ARTHUR: A witch? (The prince starts to make noises of fear. Arthur shushes him.) Okay.

 

JOHN: He needs to stay quiet.

 

ARTHUR (quietly): Okay.

 

JOHN: I don’t think that will work again.

 

ARTHUR: We’re going to get you out of here. Okay? 

 

JOHN: The chains are affixed to the wall. See if you can get them unhooked at their base. 

 

ARTHUR (grunting): I don’t… feel…

 

JOHN: What about his wrists? Where they’re attached? Just follow the chain.

 

ARTHUR: Yes, yes. Here. (Stretching.) There’s a pin. I can… pull it. I can… almost… (Metal scrapes. The prince sobs in relief.) 

 

JOHN: He’s loose!

 

ARTHUR: Okay!

 

JOHN: At least one of his arms.

 

ARTHUR: Okay.

 

JOHN: He’s already using his free hand to undo the other one.

 

ARTHUR: Okay. Alright. We need to find a way out.

 

JOHN: He’s attempting to pull at the pin on his other wrist with his nails, but… (A wet, meaty sound. The prince screams in pain.) Oh. Oh, sh –!

 

ARTHUR: Quiet! (The prince continues to make loud noise.)

 

JOHN: He’s torn his nail off!

 

ARTHUR: Shut up!

 

JOHN: Fuck!

 

ARTHUR: Fuck! (He continues to shush him.)

 

JOHN: Shut him up, Arthur! 

 

ARTHUR: Shut up! Shut up, shut up!

 

JOHN: Shut him up!

 

ARTHUR: Quiet!

 

JOHN: Cup his god-damn mouth. (A sudden blaring of static, followed by a distorted scream. Somewhat distorted, John makes noises of confusion. The sounds end with an otherworldly whoosh.) What? 

 

ARTHUR (shushing him): Quiet. Quiet! 

 

JOHN: What? 

 

ARTHUR: What just happened?

 

JOHN: I…

 

ARTHUR: He’s undone the other chain. He’s free from the wall. Okay. Look, we need to leave. Can you understand me?

 

JOHN: Arthur. H-He’s… (He groans.) He’s stepping away from the wall, but… and into the light. A-Arthur, he’s… I saw… 

 

ARTHUR: You saw?

 

JOHN: Arthur, he’s… he’s dead. 

 

ARTHUR (seriously): What?

 

JOHN: I… when you held his mouth closed, I saw… I saw the rain, the carriage tip over! I watched him die. 

 

ARTHUR: W… What does that… why is he…?

 

JOHN: He’s entered the light beneath the hole. It’s the maggots, Arthur. (Arthur breathes shakily.) They’re writhing within it. I can see his face now, for the first time. It’s been eaten away. He’s… He is dead, Arthur. 

 

ARTHUR: You… what are you?

 

JOHN: Kill it, Arthur!

 

ARTHUR: What?

 

JOHN: Kill it, quickly! Before it has time to move! 

 

ARTHUR: The man…

 

JOHN: It is no longer a man, Arthur! Use Kayne’s dagger while its back is to you. We need to kill it!

 

ARTHUR: No. No. No, he could be helpful.

 

JOHN (aghast): What? Helpful? What the fuck are you talking about?

 

ARTHUR: He was asking for help!

 

JOHN: He’s rotten flesh, Arthur!

 

ARTHUR: He may know the way out. 

 

JOHN: Know the way – !? Arthur, he doesn’t have any fucking eyes in his sockets!

 

ARTHUR: What?

 

JOHN: The maggots have eaten them! (Suspenseful music rises.) 

 

ARTHUR: Why didn’t you –

 

JOHN: I did! I told you to kill the fucking thing! (An impact. The prince gasps raggedly. Arthur cries out in surprise. Sounds of a scuffle.) Arthur, he’s on top of you!

 

ARTHUR: Jesus!

 

JOHN: His rotting flesh sagging as he tries to bite at the air before you! (Multiple teeth clicks.) 

 

ARTHUR: No!

 

JOHN: Arthur! (A squelch and dripping blood. Arthur yells in pain.) He’s bitten into your shoulder, tearing a large piece of meat from your neck! (More teeth clicks.) 

 

ARTHUR: Fuck! God! No, no.

 

(Another impact. The prince continues to gasp and moan ‘help me’.)

 

JOHN: You’ve managed to push him off. Arthur, move, you fucking idiot! You’re going to draw her right back here! (Sounds of running. The prince roars in the distance.) Right… right! Here, here! There’s another passage from this room! Smaller, but…! (The sound of shifting fabric. The prince grows louder.) He’s following. The passage is tight, very tight. You need to get more distance. 

 

ARTHUR (hyperventilating): I can’t – I can’t – I’m trying! (He groans in exertion.)

 

JOHN: Fuck, Arthur! He’s coming in behind us! My hand, he’s – (A crunching. John seethes in pain. The prince growls.) 

 

ARTHUR: What? What, what?

 

JOHN: He bit my fucking hand!

 

ARTHUR: God damn it! I can’t – squeeze – !

 

JOHN (yelling): Move! (The sound of shifting rocks.) You’re through. It’s another passage, but.

 

ARTHUR: What…?

 

JOHN: Smaller… a dead end.

 

ARTHUR: Why here? How?

 

JOHN: I didn’t fucking know, we just ran, Arthur! (The prince grows louder.) He’s coming, draw your dagger! (The scrape of metal.) He’s coming.

 

ARTHUR: Wait, wait!

 

JOHN: What?

 

ARTHUR: Let’s get along the wall.

 

JOHN: To the left. Move. 

 

ARTHUR (breathless): Whatever – whatever he sticks into the passage first…

 

JOHN: It’ll be your direct left.

 

ARTHUR: I feel it, I feel it. Okay, fuck. 

 

JOHN: Get ready. (A long pause. The prince grows louder. The sound of shifting rocks.) Now! (The scrape of metal, a thud, and the sound of dripping blood. They pant in exertion.) You’ve taken his head clean off. 

 

ARTHUR: Fuck. Fuck. God damn it. (Heaving for air.) Oh, fuck.

 

JOHN: He’s not moving, not that I can see. You need to bandage…

 

ARTHUR: I know, I know. (Tiredly.) I fucking know. 

 

JOHN: This is a small offshoot of the previous room. There’s a tiny thread of light coming from above. Like the other room, only… slightly bigger. (Footsteps.) 

 

ARTHUR: Big enough to c-crawl through?

 

JOHN: I don’t think so. On the plus side, the bleeding on your hand has stopped, so you can re-use the bandage.

 

ARTHUR: We need to get out of here, before the maggots start finding new meat.

 

JOHN: Just sit for a moment. (Arthur grunts.) Cover the wound on your shoulder. Bandage your wound –

 

ARTHUR: I am. I will. (The sound of shifting fabric.)

 

JOHN: Maggots writhe from the decapitated head of the prince.

 

ARTHUR (sharply): You don’t need to describe it. 

 

JOHN: Look, maybe I should’ve been clearer. (A soft piano melody begins.) I suppose you couldn’t have known exactly how dead he was. I’m sure in your mind –

 

ARTHUR: In my mind, he was asking for help. He was aware enough to need it.

 

JOHN: I understand. 

 

(Arthur sighs and grunts sharply. The sound of shifting fabric.) 

 

ARTHUR: But this isn’t New York anymore. And I need to realize that.

 

JOHN: Yes. We both do. (They both sigh.) I think the bones –

 

ARTHUR: I think he ate them.

 

JOHN: Yes. 

 

ARTHUR: You said she… stroked his cheek. Lovingly. 

 

JOHN: She was… feeding him. 

 

ARTHUR: Okay, but… why?

 

JOHN: Why indeed? His head is sitting on the floor. Between our legs. 

ARTHUR (in disgust): Oh, fuck.

 

JOHN: His eyes are empty, devoid of any meat left. Only his mouth and face still have little bits of rotten flesh on them. The maggots have… fallen off. 

 

ARTHUR: His body?

 

JOHN: Blocking the way in. Laying down in the tight crack that we squeezed through.

 

ARTHUR: We’ll have to move it – (He begins to move.) 

 

JOHN: Just take a second. You still haven’t bandaged the bite on my hand.

 

ARTHUR: Oh. Right. Where, uh…?

 

JOHN: To the side, beneath the pinky. (He winces audibly.)

 

ARTHUR: I-I don’t have any more…

 

JOHN: We should have kept the robe.

 

ARTHUR: I can tear some, off my shirt…

 

JOHN: I feel like keeping the maggots off our skin would be a…

 

ARTHUR: Right, right. (Something shifts on the ground.) What about…?

 

JOHN: The prince? The clothes may be salvageable, at least, to tear strips off of.

 

ARTHUR: H-H-He… he wore gloves.

 

JOHN (realizing): Right, right! (Arthur grunts, stands. Footsteps.) As I said, his body is wedged within the crack. Be careful. We don’t know if he is truly… dead. 

 

ARTHUR: Agreed. Is it, uh…? (Insect skittering grows louder.) 

 

JOHN: Moving? I can’t tell. Its hands are up before it, stretched into this room. One under his chest, the other is free. There. Lower. Lower. Be careful. I don’t want to touch any exposed flesh again. (Firmly.) Please. 

 

ARTHUR: Right, right.

 

JOHN: There! The glove. (Fabric shifting.) 

 

ARTHUR: The flesh inside feels… stiff, at least. 

 

JOHN: See if you can take it off. (More fabric shifting.) The flesh beneath is still dry.

 

ARTHUR (quietly): Small graces.

 

JOHN: Put it on. 

 

ARTHUR: This hides our pinkie, too.

 

JOHN: Yes.

 

ARTHUR: Well. We may as well take both.

 

JOHN: The other is just beneath the chest. (Insect skittering grows louder. Fabric shifting.) Careful, you’ll need to lift the arm out from underneath. Lift the chest… slowly. Now, pull the arm, and… (A soft impact. Arthur and John react in surprise.) 

 

ARTHUR: Fuck!

 

JOHN: Movement! He’s still moving, Arthur, Jesus. The glove, it’s there. There, fuck. (Fabric shifting.) 

 

ARTHUR: Wearing a dead man’s gloves.

 

JOHN: It seems like he stopped moving again.

 

ARTHUR: I suppose we should move the body.

 

JOHN: We need to find a way out of these caves.

 

ARTHUR: I-If… if we leave the same way we came into the room, with… him, using the same wall… we’ll find a way out. O-Or, at very least, our way back into the windmill. (Footsteps.) 

 

JOHN: Right. Right.

 

ARTHUR: We just need to stay the course.

 

JOHN: And… if we should encounter… her. 

 

ARTHUR: We managed to hide before. We’ll forego the torch and go on touch alone. Keeping the dagger at the ready, this time. Hoping we can remain silent enough to slip past.

 

JOHN: Alright.

 

ARTHUR: So let’s move this.

 

JOHN: Pull out the lighter. I can only see half of the body.

 

ARTHUR: Sure, sure. (The sound of patting. In surprise.) Oh.

 

JOHN: What? I-Is the lighter…?

 

(‘Faroe’s Song’ begins.) 

 

ARTHUR: No no no, it’s here, it’s just… the tooth. 

 

JOHN: What? What about the tooth? 

 

ARTHUR: You said Kayne said to… give it a mouth. 

 

JOHN: Yes. He said something, that it was such a powerful being and it was… underutilized. 

 

ARTHUR: You don’t think…?

 

(A small pause.)

 

JOHN: The prince? 

 

ARTHUR: Kayne didn’t say ‘voice’.

 

(A brief suspenseful sting of music.)  

 

JOHN: He said ‘mouth’. (Repeated tapping at a distance.) It’s… here, at your feet. 

 

ARTHUR (muttering): Alas, poor Yorick.

 

JOHN: What?

 

ARTHUR: Uh, nothing. (Insect sounds grow louder.) 

 

JOHN: It’s… a head. A rotten head, stripped of flesh in some areas and… with its eyes eaten out. Its mouth still has some wet flesh within, including teeth, though a few are missing. 

 

ARTHUR (drily): Well. I’d like to think this is the most insane thing we’ve done.

 

JOHN: Arthur. The Vanguard… i-it’s not a… be careful. (A slow piano melody begins.) It is a powerful creature. Dangerous, even. Using it… it could –

 

ARTHUR: Look, I hear you. But this isn’t just us trying to find a way to separate ourselves anymore, John. This isn’t even about finding the Order of the Fallen Star, like it was in New York. Kayne is going to torture us for all of eternity, as well as… everyone we’ve ever loved, should we fail. We can’t afford to not use every resource anymore. No matter the cost. Now. Let’s give you a mouth, Vanguard.

 

JOHN: There’s a space in the soft gumline to the right. A little more… back. There, there! Push. (A squishing noise.) Hard! (Arthur grunts.)

 

ARTHUR: There. Well? 

 

(A small pause.)

 

JOHN: Nothing. 

 

ARTHUR: It was a stretch, admittedly.

 

THE VANGUARD: A stretch? Far from it. 

 

(The Vanguard’s words are punctuated with the sound of clicking teeth and occasional squelches.) 

 

ARTHUR (surprised): Oh.

 

THE VANGUARD: I serve you, master.

 

JOHN: The Vanguard. 

 

ARTHUR: The skull, y-you… you can speak?

 

THE VANGUARD: Of course. You have gifted me a mouth. I am indebted.

 

JOHN: God, it’s using the mouth as if it were to talk, but the voice comes from… somewhere else. Somewhere unseen. 

 

ARTHUR: Who are you? Who are you, a-are you…?

 

THE VANGUARD: I am whatever you wish me to be, Master. Samantha. The Vanguard. The Prince. Yorick. 

 

ARTHUR: How… How did…?

 

JOHN: Arthur, similarly to Marie’s house and the barn, there’s a… aura surrounding the skull. Green wisps of smoke slowly float off of him, as if… on fire. The eyes aren’t empty anymore; within, there’s a small, white-hot flame.

 

THE VANGUARD: Imperceptible to all but only the truly powerful, I assure you, my King. 

 

JOHN: You can…?

 

THE VANGUARD: Always. Born of a maggot prince, torn from his sister’s head, with a foot in both worlds! I serve you, now. The Dies Irae. 

 

ARTHUR: Dies…?

 

THE VANGUARD: It is your title. Your combined force. How may I serve you? 

 

JOHN: Arthur.

 

ARTHUR: We… We need a way out.

 

THE VANGUARD: I know the way.

 

ARTHUR (hopeful): Okay! Okay! 

 

THE VANGUARD: But first! What is my name? 

 

ARTHUR: What… w-what was, it was, uh…?

 

THE VANGUARD: No! No more. What is my name now? What shall you call me, Master?

 

ARTHUR (quietly): Oh. (He sighs.) What shall I call you? 

 

JOHN: Yorick?

 

ARTHUR: No. N-No, that, that wasn’t –

 

THE VANGUARD/YORICK: Then Yorick will be my name.

 

ARTHUR: No, that – that wasn’t –

 

YORICK: I shall guide you from this place. 

 

(Arthur sighs.) 

 

JOHN: You know where we are.

 

YORICK: Yes. Some things I know very well. Other things… I need time to… investigate. 

 

ARTHUR: Like the whereabouts of Anna… (With a ‘zh’ sound.) Stanczyk?

 

YORICK: Exactly.

 

JOHN: Where is she?

 

YORICK: She is no longer alive. Nowhere near this realm. Her eyes… are empty. 

 

ARTHUR: Empty?

 

JOHN: The Vanguard looks through… many eyes?

 

YORICK: Correct, my King.

 

ARTHUR (putting it together): Okay. Okay, so you can’t… tell the past. You can’t see through everyone who’s ever existed. Right. Right.

 

YORICK: I do not possess that power.

 

JOHN: But you exist in both this world and the Dark World?

 

YORICK: Correct.

 

ARTHUR: And if the eyes are dead, or… if they never existed…?

 

YORICK: I cannot tell you where they are.

 

ARTHUR: Okay.

 

JOHN: But you know where we are now.

 

YORICK: I know.

 

ARTHUR: I-It doesn’t matter right now. Right now, we need to get out of here. Is there another way, other than the one we’ve just decided, eh, keeping one hand on the wall?

 

YORICK: Your path is true! Keep one hand on the wall… and you’ll find many doors.

 

ARTHUR: Doors?

 

JOHN (overlapping): How did you… Yorick wasn’t here when he –

 

ARTHUR (cutting him off): He must’ve heard me say Yorick.

 

YORICK: I am always listening. 

 

JOHN: Always? 

 

ARTHUR: We need to move this body.

 

YORICK: A body, in part.

 

ARTHUR: Hah, yes. (Seriously.) John.

 

JOHN: He’s along the bottom, as I said. You’ll need to grab around his midpoint to prevent him from… tearing.

 

ARTHUR: Wonderful.

 

JOHN: Put Yorick down.

 

YORICK: Gently, please!

 

ARTHUR: Oh. Right. (A soft pat against dirt.)

 

JOHN: The body is to your left.

 

ARTHUR: Okay. It’s… not moving. Right?

 

JOHN: No. 

 

ARTHUR: Yorick, is he still… is it still… able to…?

 

YORICK (at a distance): The prince is no longer capable of the movement it once was.

 

JOHN: Is it dead, Yorick?

 

YORICK: Of course!

 

ARTHUR: He means to say, will it attack us?

 

YORICK: I believe not.

 

JOHN: You believe?

 

ARTHUR (huffing): Ignore it. Just – Let’s do this. (He grunts in exertion.)

 

JOHN: Careful, careful!

 

ARTHUR: Yeah, I can feel it, okay? 

 

(Shifting and tearing noises.)

 

JOHN: The coat is caught –

 

ARTHUR: I can –

 

JOHN: On a jagged piece of –

 

(More shifting and tearing.) 

 

ARTHUR: I know! I’m trying, t-there’s resistance, somewhere!

 

JOHN: I can’t see when you’re –

 

ARTHUR: I’m try – !

 

JOHN: Y-You’ll need to move your hand!

 

ARTHUR: There.

 

JOHN (stuttering in frustration): Higher!

 

ARTHUR (frustrated): I don’t want to tear him open, John! I’m – 

 

JOHN: Your arms… no…

 

ARTHUR: Am I moving forward or backward –

 

JOHN (frustrated): Back up for a moment.

 

ARTHUR: I don’t know!

 

JOHN: Something is caught!

 

ARTHUR (fed up): I can’t see, you’re the one who –

 

YORICK: His belt! 

 

(Arthur sighs. A long pause.) 

 

JOHN: It is his belt. Lower him. (Shifting.) There. Pull. (Arthur makes noises of exertion.) There. Done. (Arthur sighs.) The path we climbed through to get here is clear. 

 

ARTHUR: Excellent.

 

JOHN: Alright.

 

ARTHUR: Yes, so once we’re back in the… the room with the bones, we’ll be heading…

 

JOHN: If we keep our left hand on the wall again, we’ll be able to leave through the – (A cracking noise.) 

 

ARTHUR: What is…? (Footsteps.) What…?

 

(More cracking noises.)

 

JOHN (in fright): It’s – It’s… It’s coming from the prince. From his… body. 

 

YORICK (knowingly): Ah, yes. (Horror music starts.) 

 

ARTHUR: Ah, yes, what?

 

YORICK: As I said, a body in part.

 

(More cracking noises.)

 

ARTHUR (shocked): What? What?

 

YORICK: These tunnels are not tunnels. No warmth. No light. Just sinewy flesh to guard against –

 

JOHN: What is it, then?

 

YORICK: Why, a womb, of course! 

 

(A louder cracking noise.)

 

JOHN (aghast): Womb? 

 

YORICK: Of course! Her children are many. They require much to grow. Supple flesh, my former – 

 

ARTHUR: We need to move!

 

JOHN: Arthur, his body is splitting open! (The sound of buzzing flies. Arthur begins to run.) Y-Yorick, Arthur!

 

ARTHUR: Fuck!

 

YORICK: There are so many! 

 

JOHN: Here, here!

 

(A soft ripping noise. Arthur continues to run.) 

 

YORICK: Why, thank you!

 

JOHN: Fuck, Arthur! Small insects are making their way out of the stomach of the prince! They’re fly-like creatures with glowing wings! Their heads are horned, a-and –

 

ARTHUR: Where’s the exit?

 

YORICK: A new swarm!

 

ARTHUR: Shut up!

 

JOHN: To your left, here! Move, Arthur, they’re filling the cavern!

 

YORICK: They are beautiful! The maggot queen will beam with pride when her – 

 

ARTHUR AND JOHN: Shut up!

 

JOHN: Move, Arthur! (The sound of falling rocks. The music abruptly stops. Flies still buzz. Arthur makes noises of relief.) There, there! We’re out of the passage! Back in the room where we found the prince! 

 

ARTHUR: Are they following?

 

JOHN: No, no, they aren’t.

 

YORICK: They have greater things to do, out beyond these caves. 

 

ARTHUR (catching his breath): Jesus. 

 

JOHN: Do they eat… (Arthur makes a negative noise.) A-Are they…?

 

YORICK: They love human flesh. You were wise to leave quickly.

 

ARTHUR (accusatory): You knew those things were inside of him! Why didn’t you say anything?

 

YORICK: You failed to ask.

 

ARTHUR (sternly): Failed to ask what?

 

YORICK: Master, I have much knowledge. I do not have the foresight to know what you require and what you do not. 

 

(Arthur and John make frustrated noises.) 

 

JOHN: When it pertains to life and death –

 

YORICK: All matters are life and death in some capacity.

 

ARTHUR: Enough. We need to get out of here, as soon as possible. 

 

JOHN: Arthur, we can’t hold the dagger and the wall and Yorick at the same time.

 

YORICK: I need not be held, merely carried.

 

JOHN: Carried by what?

 

ARTHUR: The chains, but the chains were…?

 

JOHN: Fixed to the wall.

 

YORICK: By the same pins as the manacles.

 

ARTHUR: Are… w-were they…?

 

YORICK: See for yourself, Master. (Footsteps.)

 

JOHN: Here. Higher! (The rattling of metal.)

 

ARTHUR: I-I still can’t… oh, oh! Oh. (A metal click.) 

 

JOHN: Oh. You have the chain. (Arthur makes a thoughtful noise. The shifting of fabric and clinking of metal.) What are you…?

 

ARTHUR: Threading it through my belt.

 

YORICK: Brilliant decision, Master!

 

JOHN: Right, you should be able to thread the other end through the loose flesh to the right of its eye. It looks like you can hook it under the jawbone, like… y-yes, there!

 

YORICK: Excellent plan, my King. (Metal clinking.)

 

JOHN: Press hard. There! 

 

(Squelching flesh.) 

 

ARTHUR: There. Now we won’t drop you, Yorick.

 

YORICK: I shall help guide the way out. Unless, of course… you would wish to seek what the witch covets. 

 

JOHN: Covets?

 

ARTHUR (politely): Just out, thank you.

 

JOHN: Hold on.

 

YORICK: The witch is powerful, indeed. Her children, birthed of flesh, cover the lands above. They are her eyes and her –

 

ARTHUR: We need to leave, this isn’t –

 

(A sad piano melody begins.) 

 

JOHN: Arthur, didn’t you just say we need to look at everything available to us? We’re playing for keeps, remember? We can’t afford to not use every resource, you – (Arthur sighs.) You said that.

 

ARTHUR: This isn’t a resource, it…

 

YORICK: No. Much more powerful.

 

ARTHUR: Okay, okay, I hear you. (A small pause.) Okay, w-what is it? 

 

JOHN: More than that. Yorick, is it something that would help us find the Blackstone?

 

YORICK: Directly, no. The talisman has many abilities. Of course, at the cost of her losing some of her power.

 

JOHN: She would lose power, too.

 

ARTHUR: What kinds of powers?

 

YORICK: She wanders these halls, even now. We should move before she returns.

 

JOHN: Okay.

 

YORICK: To the surface, or her talisman? Which would you prefer? 

 

JOHN: What are the chances we’ll be back here, Arthur? (Arthur sighs.) I’m not saying it’s not risky… what I’m saying is… it might be worth the risk.

 

ARTHUR: Okay. Alright. (A sad piano melody begins.) If this will help us… let’s find the talisman first. 

 

YORICK: Very well, master!

 

JOHN: Look, we both know this is risky, but we have very little to help us achieve what is feeling more and more like an… impossible task. 

 

ARTHUR: You’re right. You’re right. No reward without risk. And we’re in the lion’s den already.

 

YORICK: It is a hag’s womb! 

 

(John huffs. A whimsical tune begins.)

 

ARTHUR: I-It’s an expression.

 

JOHN (quietly): Was I this bad?

 

ARTHUR: No.

 

YORICK (simultaneously): Yes. 

 

ARTHUR: Ah. (He exhales.) Don’t listen to him.

 

YORICK: Move, then! I will tell you when to switch sides to the other cavern wall! From left… to right. 

 

ARTHUR: Okay. (Footsteps.)

 

JOHN: Wait a minute.

 

ARTHUR: What?

 

JOHN: How do you know this? I thought you had the ability to see through other’s eyes, but… only if they’re alive. How did you know about the talisman and the way out?

 

YORICK: I cannot see through eyes that are no longer alive, but the prince’s mind still holds memory.

 

(A slow piano melody begins.)

 

ARTHUR: The prince? You…

 

YORICK: No different than how I… move his jaw to speak. The rotten flesh that was once his brain is within my control. Along with the… murky memories of how he was brought here. And what he saw. 

 

JOHN: You can recall what he saw?

 

YORICK: Yes. I now enjoy his memories. How delicious they are. (Squishy flesh noises.) 

 

ARTHUR: You know all that he knew?

 

JOHN (impressed): Alright. 

 

ARTHUR: Yes, let’s use that later. For now… we move. 

 

YORICK: Stay quiet. Stay low. She is clever. Cleverer than you, Master!

 

(John huffs. A whimsical tune begins.)

 

ARTHUR (sarcastically): Thanks, Yorick.

 

YORICK: You too, my King.

 

JOHN (quietly): Shut up. (Footsteps.) Your hand is on the wall. Here. The dagger… (The scrape of metal.) Alright. Let’s move. (Falling pebbles. Arthur breathes out.) We’re back in the caves. The tight passage continues on, much like it did before. The walls… still wet with the viscous mucus-like liquid that was previous to – 

 

YORICK: It is used to better allow her children to move about the cave.

 

(Arthur shushes him.)

 

JOHN: Quiet, Yorick!

 

ARTHUR (whispering): Quiet! 

 

YORICK: Of course! My apologies! 

 

(Arthur breathes quickly as he walks. Pebbles occasionally fall.) 

 

JOHN: I can’t see anything. Or hear anything. Keep moving. Yorick, are we… close to where we need to switch walls? (He stutters.) Snap your jaw. Once for yes, twice for no. (One jaw snap.) Alright. Quietly now, Arthur. (Footsteps.) These caves seem… more awake than they were before. Who knows what kind of magics this… witch has. (Arthur breathes shakily.) Yorick, when it’s time, snap once to switch walls. When we get to – (One jaw snap. John makes a noise of surprise.) It’s pitch black. You’ll need to leave the wall and walk in complete darkness for a moment, Arthur. 

 

Just… try to keep straight. (A distant thumping noise.) Okay. Careful. I-I see nothing… just keep trying to feel in the darkness. I’m sure that – (Suddenly.) T-There! There! (Arthur breathes shakily.) Okay! Okay. There, we’ve reached the wall. Yorick! Left or right from here? Once for right. To where we’re facing. (One jaw snap.) Okay. Slowly, Arthur. (Footsteps.)

 

I-I see light ahead! It’s a dim orange light. Careful, Arthur. There, there! Up ahead! The floor, it’s… it’s no longer dirt. It’s, it’s wood. Planks of wood along the ground, and… we’re at a large opening. I think it opens to our left, to a room below. The orange is flickering firelight, casting up to the area we’re at. Slowly approach the corner, so we can peek around without being seen. Slowly, slowly. (Footsteps.)

 

Almost there. Okay. Okay, stop! Stop! 

 

Feel the edge. (A dry noise.) Yes. Look around. Quietly, now. Okay. Okay. We’re in a large… home, almost. An underground hovel of sorts. I see… masonwork, stonework, similar to that of the windmill on the far wall. It’s… below us. An entire level. There are different levels here, we’re at the back of the room on an upper platform against the cavern wall. The floor appears… made of wood, almost, like a balcony or a bridge. It’s exposed for about thirty feet in the direction we were already heading and then it heads back into the caves on the other side. Most likely towards a staircase that would lead down, but it’s all covered, up ahead.

 

In the main part of the room below, against the carved stone wall to the back, I see a door. There might be two, made of wood. There’s a stone slab. Next to the slab is a table, covered in blood. Objects are scattered everywhere: bottles, a mortar and pestle, bushels of dried herbs. Too much to make out, just yet.

 

Across from all that, beneath us, is a stagnant pool of greenish-looking liquid. But I don’t see her. 

 

ARTHUR (whispering): Yorick! Where is the talisman?

 

YORICK: I do not know, but I imagine through one of those doors.

 

JOHN (taken aback): You don’t know!?

 

YORICK: She used it on the prince, but worry not, when she entered the room shortly ago, while the prince’s dead eyes didn’t witness, he recalled hearing a door before she returned! I believe one of these rooms leads to her… inner sanctum. 

 

ARTHUR: And what about the other?

 

YORICK: Hard to say. Perhaps more pregnant meat. (Arthur makes a disgusted noise.) Perhaps not. I was not taken in there.

 

JOHN: She could be in her inner sanctum as well.

 

YORICK: Possible.

 

ARTHUR: And the exit? Is it away from here?

 

YORICK: He was brought in through the tunnels back the way we came. To continue on the wall to the now-right. However. I imagine there are many ways to leave this home.

 

ARTHUR: Why?

 

YORICK: A hag rarely has one form of escape from her den.

 

JOHN: I thought you said she was a witch.

 

YORICK: Yes.

 

ARTHUR: You know this from the prince, or?

 

YORICK: No.

 

JOHN: Fine, look. That only benefits us. If we can find a way out down there, all the better.

 

YORICK: Three exits, I would imagine.

 

JOHN: Three?

 

ARTHUR: Leaving two potentially close to her inner sanctum.

 

YORICK: She is wise. She would not allow herself to be trapped.

 

JOHN: Maybe we entered through a back door.

 

ARTHUR: It seems like it.

 

YORICK: We should not delay.

 

ARTHUR: Okay.

 

JOHN: Straight across the wooden bridge. Through to the other side of the cave. We should be able to find a way down. (Footsteps.) Here, here! The wooden stairs down. Quietly, now. We’re almost there, Arthur. Here. (Arthur makes a noise of acknowledgment.) We’re at the bottom, and within her… home. The floor is cracked stone. Reminiscent of the windmill. Between, vines grow up, disjointed and jagged. The water is to our left. It sits unmoving.

 

Up ahead lay the slab. A large hatchet lay embedded within the wooden table sitting next to it. And… there are the two doors. One to our immediate right, along the carved stone wall of the cavern. The other is straight ahead. It’s against the cavern wall itself, carved into the stone. Both look identical: heavy wood with black iron handles. Which one should we enter?

 

ARTHUR: Straight ahead. 

 

JOHN: Alright.

 

YORICK: We must move. Quickly.

 

JOHN: We are, we are. The vines cover the broken stone floor here, Arthur. Be careful. The door is straight ahead, built within the stone wall of this cavern. It’s almost… recessed, as if hidden. The still green waters to our left seem almost glass-like. They reflect the light of the torches that line the stone wall behind us. Here, here. The door! 

 

ARTHUR (whispering): Alright. You’re my eyes. (A slow wooden creak.)

 

JOHN (whispering): It’s pitch black. I can’t see anything. (Footsteps. The lighter flicks.) Shut the door, first. (Wooden creaking. The lighter flicks again. The sound of flame.) Alright. Arthur, these are her… chambers. (A slow piano melody begins.) The earthen walls of the underground are softer here, almost smoothed as if by water over time. The walls are a lighter brown than the stone in the caverns, and roots hang down from the ceiling. She’s fashioned some of them to support candles, like a chandelier. (Footsteps.)

 

To our immediate right, against the wall, is a… vanity, of sorts. It sprouts from the ground and ceiling, joining in the middle and flattening to hold a number of bottles and powders. There’s no mirror, exactly, but a large piece of polished silver sits upon the vanity. It’s reflecting our light. Beside it, roots in thick braids hang down from the ceiling. 

 

The wall dips back, perhaps to another passage. Almost like a curtain. I can’t see behind it. There’s a large wardrobe made from what seems to be… pieces of bark. A-As well as on that wall against the back. A tapestry. It depicts a group of men. Soldiers, maybe, in a wooded area. A figure on the road before them. A woman. It’s old, it looks… partially burned. 

 

ARTHUR (whispering): The talisman!

 

JOHN: Right, right. In the far left corner of the room, opposite the wardrobe, is a bed: again of similar construction to the other things in this room. Twisted roots, turned black with time, forced to grow into the shape of a fairly large bed. Hay is used to soften, it sinks in the middle. I suppose with use, over time, it has… the nightstand! (Eagerly.) Arthur, the talisman! It’s sitting on the – (Clinking noise.) Yes, there!

 

ARTHUR: We’re leaving.

 

JOHN: Right. (The lighter flicks. Wooden creaking.) It’s clear. 

 

ARTHUR: Let’s go. 

 

JOHN (exhale): The stairs are straight ahead. Let’s leave this place. (Slow footsteps.)

 

ARTHUR: Where…? (JOHN: I…) John, where are the stairs? Where do I turn? 

 

JOHN: They’re not here. 

 

ARTHUR: What?  (Frustrated.) The stairs we came down!

 

JOHN: I know, they’re not here!

 

YORICK: He tells the truth, Master! 

 

ARTHUR (shakily): How is that possible?

 

YORICK: I believe she is aware of our presence, Master!

 

ARTHUR (in horror): Aware?

 

YORICK: She has been watching us. 

 

JOHN: When…? 

 

ARTHUR: What… what…?

 

YORICK (forthright): We should attempt to flee.

 

JOHN: The other door!

 

ARTHUR: Yes, yes. (He breathes shakily.) 

 

JOHN: Here. To the… yes! There. (Arthur grunts. A door squeaks open.) It’s a long hallway. Stone, like the windmill. (The lighter flicks. The sound of flame.)

 

ARTHUR: We need an exit. Now. 

 

YORICK: I do not believe she will allow you to leave, Master.

 

JOHN: Shut up! Straight ahead. It’s a long corridor. Passages turn off to the right and left up ahead.

 

ARTHUR: God.

 

YORICK: She can feel us.

 

ARTHUR: Straight, for now. Left hand, left hand wall. (John grunts.)

 

JOHN: Here, here! Turn left. It’s a short hallway. (Footsteps.) Keep going. There’s a statue here, at the end of it. It’s missing a head. It turns left and right again.

 

ARTHUR: Anything. A breeze, a light – ?

 

JOHN: No, Arthur! It’s a maze of turns and passages. I can’t make out any more than the light allows. 

 

(Arthur makes noises of fear.)

 

ARTHUR: Left again, then.

 

JOHN: Alright. (Footsteps.)

 

ARTHUR: They’re…. They’re ninety degrees, perfect angles?

 

JOHN: They seem to be. 

 

YORICK: She is waiting.

 

ARTHUR (fed up): Enough! Enough. Come on, come on.

 

JOHN: I-It’s opening, ahead!

 

ARTHUR: Come on, come on…!

 

JOHN: Damn it! A crossroads.

 

ARTHUR (flabbergasted): How is that…?

 

JOHN: I don’t know, Arthur! There’s a large snake carved into the stone floor here.

 

ARTHUR: It goes all directions?

 

JOHN: Yes.

 

ARTHUR: Well, left will just lead us back to where we started…

 

JOHN: How do you – ?

 

ARTHUR: Or a dead end. Which way is the head facing on the snake?

 

JOHN: Right.

 

ARTHUR: Okay, right.

 

JOHN: This way. There. What if the left went up, back there, what if there was – ?

 

YORICK (emphatically): She… is… coming!

 

ARTHUR: God damn it, Yorick!

 

JOHN: Again! Right or left. 

 

ARTHUR: Right!

 

YORICK: Master, I believe you will not escape in time.

 

JOHN: In time for what?

 

ARTHUR: Then help us, Yorick!

 

YORICK (earnestly): How may I help?

 

ARTHUR: How do we stop her?

 

YORICK: You can not. She has watched, as a hag is wont to do. She has observed you stealing her talisman, and now… (Arthur grunts in exertion.) You have sprung her trap.

 

ARTHUR (in realization): These halls… (A slow piano melody begins.) 

 

YORICK: May offer an exit, but it is not one we will find.

 

JOHN: Hide the talisman.

 

ARTHUR: What?

 

JOHN: Hide it!

 

ARTHUR: I…

 

JOHN: Quickly!

 

ARTHUR: Okay, okay!

 

JOHN: Here, here! There’s a brick in the wall that… (Arthur grunts.) Yes, there! Lower, lower! Pull it! (Brick scraping.)

 

YORICK: Ingenious decision, King!

 

JOHN: Shut up!

 

ARTHUR: There! (Brick scraping.) 

 

JOHN: Put the brick back. Quickly! Now move, Arthur! (A high pitched shriek. Arthur breathes in fear and sprints.) Run! Faster! When I tell you, turn left!

 

YORICK: You will not lose her!

 

JOHN: Here! Now! Keep going! It turns again – right! (The sound of cackling.) 

 

YORICK: This is her home. 

 

JOHN: Right, here!

 

YORICK: She has built this labyrinth with magic.

 

JOHN: Another right. When I tell you!

 

YORICK: And will.

 

JOHN: Run, Arthur! (Arthur makes noises of fear.) Right!

 

YORICK: She is coming!

 

JOHN: Another turn up ahead, left! I’ll tell you when, keep going! Get ready to turn… and… !

 

YORICK: She is…

 

JOHN: Now! (The sound of gore and spilled blood. Arthur chokes.) Wait!

 

YORICK: Here. 

 

JOHN (screaming): No! (The sound of metal. Arthur whimpers. The witch makes growling noises.) She’s… She’s here! Before you, Arthur! She’s… impaled you! (A thud.) A rapier, of sorts! Arthur… we need to… Arthur! (Distraught.) Arthur! 

 

(A click, followed by static.)

 

(END Part 42.)