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Serial V: The Devil's Glade!
By Irene Maslanik 07'
STAFF WRITER

When we last saw our intrepid cast, our heroine, Susannah, was kidnapped. The hero, Reginald, arrived to make an exchange, but was double crossed by his arch enemy, Pierre L’Ollonais. Radcliffe, Susannah’s cousin, was ominously absent from the last installment. So we begin.

Deep in the thicket surrounding the Devil’s Glade . . .

As the inky night swallowed the last sounds of L'Ollonais and his men, the beating of Radcliffe’s heart drowned out the night creatures’ pulsing chirps. He had watched from the shadows while Reginald walked calmly into the fray. He had also watched, paralyzed, as L'Ollonais shot his cousin,

Susannah, while she was bound at his feet.

Despite his apparent absence, Radcliffe had missed nary a second of the action. In fact, betraying his position would have only endangered himself and guaranteed Reginald’s death. Now he knew he was the only hope for Reginald’s rescue. Radcliffe also knew that only he could avenge the death of his beloved cousin.

The plan was simple. Radcliffe would wait in the woods, carefully hidden from view, and Reginald would spring L'Ollonais' trap. It was a simple plan that had gone terribly awry. All Radcliffe could do was stand and stare numbly at the unmoving bloodstained sack. Then, suddenly, a thrilling hope rose within him. Perhaps L'Ollonais had merely grazed Susannah – or perhaps Susannah had survived the blow and needed the attention of a doctor to survive! He burst into motion and raced towards the burlap coffin, certain that he saw the body bag moving as if the person inside were waking up.

As his Hessians gleamed and thudded through the dewy ground, their staccato rhythm accompanied that mantra in his head. If she lived, he would end their conflict and protect her from all further harm. As he neared the crimson soaked mass, he was more certain than ever that it moved and still more certain that this wreck could be salvaged.

Onboard le Mauvaise Rencontre . . .

Reginald regained consciousness as his body rolled across the warped, wood floor of the prisoner cell, deep in the bowels of the ship. The splintered planks gnawed at his clothes and limbs. His once ruggedly handsome face, which had been bruised and bloodied in his last hour of torture, revealed the desolation of his heart. His crystal blue eyes, once piercing and luminescent, were now dull and anguished. Reginald was ravaged by the hungry claws of guilt.

Even though he knew L’Ollonais was enjoying the cruel agony of his drawn-out death, Reginald could hardly feel the pain for himself. He saw only the gapping, oozing hole that now swallowed his life. Susannah’s laughing face, filled with the promise of a future they would never have, danced before his eyes. Then he blinked, trying to shake away the haze of despair, and let his eyes rest on . . . a woman’s boot.

Back in the glade . . .

Radcliffe fell to his knees before the sack like a supplicant at the pilgrim alter. His hopes, which had wavered like a tightrope dancer, plunged to their deaths when he saw the limp blue arm protruding from the sack. Then, he noticed that the arm was hairy and scarred and certainly not the arm of a gently bred female.

His breathe quickened as he ripped open the bag to reveal a rail-like corpse of a man wearing tattered and filthy clothes. Radcliffe knew not where they had found this poor soul, but one thing he knew for certain: Susannah was still alive.

TBC