by Kai Widdeson
“Where were you?” asks my mother, wiping her eyes. The question nearly breaks me.
“Orrian, he’s-” I hesitantly catch my words not knowing quite where to start, “The colony started a war with his tribe, they live in the forest. They burnt down their home like they did with Avlym but Orrian escaped and managed to find us. His parents were killed which means he’s now their king which is why the Colony have been hunting him.”
I pause waiting for my mother to say something. I’ve deliberately left out the part about Theodluin killing her husband, she shouldn’t be told like this and I know I’m not capable of causing her anymore pain than I’ve cost her so far. Her eyes widened slightly when I mentioned king, but she stays silent. Orrian tries to interject and fearing that he’s about to cause her the agony she’d be better spared, I immediately cut him off to proceed.
“One of his people found us just after Rhys did,” I continue, “Orrian was unconscious and I didn’t know that he knew the man so I couldn’t just leave him. We found the rest of his people but eventually the colony caught up and they-”
My throat tightens. I can’t carry on, I can’t tell her about what happened on the beach. How will I ever be able to tell the woman who banned me from fighting that I have become a killer?
“And they captured us and brought us back here,” I finish lamely. Her eyes narrow slightly like she knows I’m not giving her the full story, but she doesn’t press the matter.
“I really am sorry Dana, I never wanted to drag any of you into my people’s fight,” Orrian apologises again, thankfully he doesn’t say anything further.
“It’s alright,” my mother says eventually, “you would’ve died out there if you hadn’t.”
I sigh with relief. If my mother can forgive the tribe for the pain they’ve brought with them, then maybe the rest of Avlym may be able to as well. That is of course if we will all live long enough to reunite with Alice and the rest of our people.
“And you-” my mother turns her attention back towards me, I squirm nervously. “You did the right thing going with him, I’m proud of you.”
The backs of my eyes blaze and the dungeon dissolves into abstract blurs as she gifts me with alleviation from days of pent-up guilt and worry. I nod back mutely as all words catch in my throat, unable to express my gratitude for her understanding. I may be in an enemy’s cell deep underground, far from the open air, but suddenly I feel less confined than I ever remember.
I’ve lost track of how long we’ve been down here now. A warden brought us some stale bread and water at some point so I would guess that the sun has at least risen. Occasionally a hunched hooded figure scuttles past the bars, keeping their head low. They tend to each of the torches between the rooms and sweep a broom over the path floor, kicking the thick layer of dust into the air. Apart from them and the warden, we have been left alone down here since arriving.
My mother has spent the morning so far fretting over my injuries until finally an elderly man I’ve never met volunteered to clean the worst of them for me with a little of our precious water. Now I sit in the corner of the room as he drags some damp cloth gently over my back.
Meanwhile, Orrian and Horas are left to answer the questions that have finally arrived at the tip of my mother’s tongue. They talk of our travels before we were caught and share tales of Avlym and of the tribe before all of this began, comparing the differences between the two groups.
Listening to the three of them from my corner I learn things about the tribe that I was still yet to discover. For example, Orrian is confused by one of my mother’s stories in the tavern and as it turns out the tribe are unfamiliar with alcohol. I suppose that would explain the slightly confused looks he gave me in his silence when we were confronted by Bennie near the fire that night. Several minutes later we also learn that when every child comes of age, they must spend a few nights alone in the forest providing for themselves, an idea that horrifies my mother and to which she immediately expresses her concern. They continue like this for some time, trading questions and answers until they both finally run out of things to ask. I am struck by the curiosity of the young king, his interest in our lives easily matching my mother’s fascination for his.
Keys collide in the distance before the thud of a bolt sliding against metal echoes around the tunnel. Heavy footsteps fill the hall, it’s more than just a single warden this time. As the rustling of chainmail approaches, my mother cautiously slides a little further into the shadows. Contrastingly, Horas and Orrian rise to their feet. With a muttered thanks I shrug off the man behind me and join them.
The warden from earlier leads the way. His neck sticks out horizontal from his shoulders so that they rise above his drooping head. The last wisps of grey hair cling defiantly to his wrinkled scalp and a snakelike tongue flickers out regularly to wet cracked lips. In one hand he holds a lantern high, in his other he hangs a full crowd of keys from one single bony finger.
Next follows Prince Arron, flanked by a couple of heavily armoured and considerably more capable looking men than the warden. The prince is no longer in his gold-decorated armour but now wears a similarly elaborate shirt. The fabric shimmers in ripples as the firelight catches upon the many embedded green gems forming detailed patterns throughout his torso. An uncharacteristically simple belt sits around his waist but from it hangs a long thin sheath. Emerging from the top is an intricate hilt, curling in ribbons around the handle to presumably enclose its user’s grip.
Prince Arron walks with a stride in his step, the strut of a man who knows that he owns the ground beneath his feet. Whilst the two men either side of him are considerably larger, his posture and confidence somehow dwarves them. As he begins to pass the rows of cells his eyes are set fixed towards the end of the tunnel where Orrian returns the focus.
The old warden finally halts his shuffling after taking an agonisingly long time to reach us. One of the prince’s companions steps forwards to slap the bars with the back of his protected forearm until Horas and Orrian step away from the door. Prince Arron squares up in front of Orrian, behind him Becker comes into view from behind the large guards.
Surprisingly, I don’t have to resist against the uncontrollable rage I was expecting for our next encounter. Something much colder and more sinister bides its time inside of me. Throwing myself against the bars and banging my fists at him will serve no purpose other than his own entertainment. I will wait, for now, until I can exert myself inflicting upon him the pain he deserves. I have never thought myself violent but for once I imagine myself taking great pleasure in causing the person before me as much harm as possible. I may be waiting to act, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t dig my fingernails into my palms when he sneers at us from behind the prince’s shoulder.
“Come on. Time to have that chat I asked for,” says Prince Arron.
There’s a soft click as the warden turns the key before the barred door swings inwards. Horas immediately puts himself between our captors and his king.
An armoured soldier steps inside the cell. He not only has to stoop as he crosses through the door frame but also enter at an angle so that his shoulders may pass through. His silhouette fills up the remainder of the room as he glares down upon us.
In the dim light the lumbering giant’s meaty fist travels in slow motion before colliding into Horas’ cheek. The man’s jaw snaps to one side and he immediately crumples to the ground, temple luckily softened by a thin layer of straw as it strikes the floor. A thin trail of blood begins to make its way flowing parallel to his now vertical upper lip.
Orrian rushes to the chef’s aid, placing anxious hands on the boy’s cheeks. Horas’ eyes flutter feebly and Orrian lowers his head in relief as a soft groan escapes his lips.
The soldier moves past me and I make no effort to get in his way. Any resistance against him would be futile, this is only a single soldier, there are undoubtedly plenty more ready on call should we start making too much trouble for the prince. Orrian is roug
hly lifted away by the armpits, protesting as he is dragged towards the door.
“Get off!” he growls, such anger appears alien as it flashes across his usually calm expression. His arms flail at those gripping him whilst Prince Arron observes, eyes sparkling with mild amusement. All around us the tribespeople cry out in support for their king from their cages.
Orrian’s legs kick out as he struggles to get back onto his own feet. He manages to get some grip and uses it to launch himself upwards, throwing his head back into the soldier’s chin. He swings his arm round, knocking the lantern out of the warden’s hand as he does, and brings his fist smashing into the soldier’s exposed nose. Raucous cheers are bellowed around us. The second large man finally steps in to subdue Orrian whilst his comrade covers his face. When the soldier peels his hand away, I am satisfied to see that the man’s nose has been offset at a very unnatural angle.
“You just love making things difficult, don’t you?” Prince Arron accuses before setting off back towards the stairs without looking back, his shoes powdering the lantern’s glass as he passes.
Orrian’s hands are forced into chains just before he is shoved after the prince, they handle him roughly but don’t attempt to drag him again, letting him instead walk a step in front of them. Their huge frames quickly block Orrian from view, leaving us alone with Becker and the warden who has swiftly moved in to lock the door again.
Becker rotates to his side so that he can see both myself and my mother.
“Well? Aren’t you going to say thank you?” he asks my mother. His head turns to me in her silence. “She’s been so worried you know, I still can’t believe you left her.”
There is no blocking his words as they deal a blow to my gut. I know he’s just trying to get to me, eager to entice out that fiery beast in my veins, but his calculated cruelty still manages to cut deep.
“She even tried to attack me you know, threw away years of peaceful relations all because of your stupidity. Of course, once she got involved so did the rest of them,” Becker shakes his head in disappointment. “Our people have worked together for so long and you just went and ruined the whole thing.” Becker turns to my mother once again, she now stands defiantly on her feet. “I suppose you’ve told him what happened?”
“Of course, you left us with no choice,” Becker continues to me, taking my mother’s silence as confirmation. “I just hope you know that this is all on your shoulders.”
I try to deafen his words as they echo all my fears and worries. Some part of me knows that I am not the cause of all of this, that the colony are the ones to blame, but a much louder voice in my head submissively agrees with the sadistic man before me.
“This could have ended so differently, if only you’d all honoured our friendship. King Breyden sure was unhappy when he heard that you and Orrian had managed to slip away. But, now that he has the pretender, maybe he’ll let us have some quality time together and I can pass on some real justice for his displeasure. Or perhaps not, maybe I’ll just have to leave you all down here. No matter, nobody manages to last long
“Poor Halden here,” Becker pats the warden’s shoulder, the old man startles as if he had begun to nod off. His tongue darts once more between his lips as if they may have shrivelled up in the last few moments. “Well his memory is starting to suffer. You can’t blame the man he’s certainly put in his time. Anyhow, things round here can get plenty more unpleasant when he forgets to make his trips down here. Let’s just say that when the lights go out and the food stops coming, things can get a little more feral.”
Is that what happened to all these bodies surrounding us? Did this hunchbacked warden before me simply choose to leave them by themselves for days on end until they tore each other apart? After seeing the loyalty in the tribe, I would never believe them capable of such a thing, but then again, this far underground in the confined dark I have no idea how animalistic they may turn. These are a people accustomed to the outdoors, they live and thrive among the trees, I have no idea how they’ll cope in such a different setting. I have already noticed a few of them pacing their cells, unable to keep still. They bang on the bars whilst others rock, breathing slowly as they try to overcome the crushing pressure of the walls around them.
“Goodbye for now, Dale. Perhaps I’ll see you again, or perhaps not,” says Becker, a merciless grin curling up his vile cheeks. Becker heads away from us back down the hallway with Warden Halden scraping his feet at his heels.
“Don’t listen to him,” my mother starts. “They’re all sick, nobody blames you for what happened-”
My mother keeps speaking but her comforting words fade into the background, the hooded figure from before is back. Standing tall they may be slightly taller than myself, but their hunched frame brings them beneath my chin. The same broom drags behind them as they hurry towards the lantern that Orrian broke just outside of our cell.
As the cleaner finishes gathering their pile of wax and glass shards they stop, head bowed in my direction. Time slows as they straighten, their eyes raising as a face begins to appear from beneath the shadow of their cowl.
The face of one of my long-lost childhood tormentors stares back at me. He has matured several years since I last saw him but there is no confusing the trademark scar stretching over one of his eyes. The wound is no longer alone, his skin is tinted yellow and hangs with many deep, unnatural grooves. His nose is off, twisting into a different direction halfway down, and the side of his upper lip is bloated. Despite his injuries the different paths they’ve taken, he still resembles a striking similarity to one particular village drunk.
Recognition flashes across his eyes before he hurriedly drags the broken remains after him back down the hallway.
“Dale? What is it?” my mother asks, finally aware that I had been ignoring her consolations.
“That guy with the broom,” I answer, my mouth moving by itself as my mind struggles with the shock. “It’s Damion.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“Tharrin, I’m sure he’s fine,” says Astera from the next cell over.
“Did you see them though? Did the other raft definitely get out?” asks Tharrin, his now boyish voice reminding me of the true age of the young warrior.
“No, I didn’t, but the archers couldn’t reach them, and Jaq will look after them. If they’re not here, then I’m sure they’re still safe,” assures Astera.
“Unless-” Tharrin starts.
“No. Tharrin, stop it. Don’t think like that,” Astera says cutting him off. “They’ve got most of us now anyway, including Orrian, they might not even have bothered looking for them.”
“I suppose,” Tharrin admits, though he still sounds nervous and uncertain.
With only a couple of cells opposite in sight, I can only make out a few of the survivors. It only now occurs to me that when marching towards the colony I hadn’t been able to spot Arys or any of his friends in chains. They must have been on the other raft, floating away whilst his brother and the sage lifted the wood above their heads to protect their own group from the incoming arrows.
My heart aches for Tharrin, I know how it feels to be separated from family. Whilst Astera’s words may calm him a little they won’t do much about the incoming tide of worry coursing through him. Tharrin confided in me on our travels that it is just he and Arys left, their parents both lost in the Great Fire. Astera is right, there are few more trustworthy than Jaq and Ryfon, much like Arthur, but that comfort will seem insignificant in filling the pit in his heart.
Eventually, Horas moves nearer the bars, back against the wall that we share with his sister and Tharrin. The cheek that the guard hit faces me, it’s already swollen below the eye and flickering light reflects off its surface. He quietly joins in the effort to put Tharrin’s mind at ease, eventually beginning to steer the conversation in a different direction. With nothing to distract us down here it would be far too easy for Tharrin or myself to drive ourselves crazy with our anxiety. I admire the subtlety wit
h which Horas talks, softly diverting the worries towards a story of how Jaq once caught him sneaking off with a girl one night. Astera crudely feigns retching before leaving the two young men to themselves, unwilling to be awakened to the details of her twin’s love life.
Realising I should probably mimic Horas’ intentions, I bring my mother over to her cell door and begin describing the beauty of the world I saw in my travels. I describe the snow tipped peaks that brushed the clouds, hiding their networks of never-ending caves and tunnels disappearing further and further into the ground. I talk of the grasslands, with their marshes and swamps and the vast untouched stretches far away from any villages. Finally, I illustrate the beach for her, with its infinite field of water and the almost liquid gold that runs between your toes. Each scene swims so clearly before me, each such an integral part of the journey that has led me to where I am now. They paint a trail away from the familiarity of Avlym and into the unknown.
I wonder how much more of the world there must be left to discover. Does the ocean continue forever or is it merely an unthinkably huge lake with land on the other side? What would that land be like? Are there people there? Do they have villages like we do? Is there another colony or do they all live in harmony?
The more I talk the further we put between ourselves and the cells. We are no longer in the underbelly of the colony but rather we are birds, soaring over the magnificence of the world below us. The stone gives way to rolling meadows, the bars to endless oceans and forests, and the low ceiling to the clouds and the open air.
Orrian returns perhaps a couple of hours later, he glances at me questioningly as I almost ignore him, searching over his shoulder for any signs of Damion. Unfortunately, Orrian is only accompanied by the warden and a couple of guards, it clearly wasn’t worth the prince’s time to accompany him back to his cell.