Venture ducked another blow in order to keep looking Jade in the eye. He couldn’t let her do that. He had to let her go.
“Don’t say it, Vent!” Jade shouted before he could speak. “Don’t you dare say it! It’s not over. It’s not!”
Grant slid his arm around her, and this time she accepted the support. Her knees wobbled and a tear escaped.
“That’s enough.” Grant’s voice was quiet, stern with the gentlemanly sort of command Venture had always loved in him. “For God’s sake.” Grant gestured with his eyes at the children.
And just like that, it was over—the beating, anyway. Hardy, fist cocked back, ready to ram into Venture’s jaw again, stopped and put his hand on Reed’s arm. Reed nodded. The Fieldstones were still a powerful family. They knew they’d better not go any further, not while there were witnesses around to report it.
“There’s a chance for us, Vent,” Jade said, “and I want it.”
Venture squeezed his eyes shut at the memory. There will always be a chance for us, as long as you want it. He’d told her that, just a few months ago.
Venture steeled himself to look Jade in the eye. He couldn’t speak, not without sounding broken. But he told her with his eyes that he remembered his promises. All of them. Even those he’d chosen to break. You owe it to that girl to stay alive, Calling had said, without even knowing Jade and what they’d been through together. Call was right.
Venture told Jade with his eyes that he’d survive this. But what would it mean to stay alive in this place, and what would living out there, without him, be like for her?
Reed and Hardy shoved Venture into the windowless hallway leading from the hearing rooms and judicial offices, to the adjoining three-story building that was the lockup not only for Twin Rivers Town, but for all prisoners serving lengthy terms in Springriver County. This construction, with the hallway connecting the buildings, was designed to give the convicted no opportunity to incite the crowd outside. No doubt the lawmen were glad for that today.
Venture expected to be taken through the halls, past cell after cell crammed with men, but instead the guards prodded him directly to a stairwell. They ordered him to climb the stone steps into the darkness, past all three main stories. He reached a landing, and Reed shoved him into the stone wall and held him there at sword-point while Hardy unlocked a heavy iron door.
Reed pointed his sword at the dank alcove beyond and grunted an order for Venture to enter. As soon as Venture turned his back on Reed to do so, the guard lowered his sword and raised his foot, with the intent to boot Venture face down, onto the floor. But Venture sensed the motion and caught the foot in his shackled hands just long enough to shuck the leg aside and bob clear of Reed’s sword.
Reed stumbled, and Hardy’s sword point pressed at the base of Venture’s neck.
“I’m sorry,” Venture said. “Was I in your way?”
Reed’s face reddened, but he only glared at Venture and gestured again for him to move forward. Venture did, but this time he walked backward, keeping his eyes on the guards. It was hard to make anything out in the shadows of the tower, but he could feel the nervous irritation emanating from Hardy.
Hardy gave Reed a sharp look. Venture dared to give Hardy a fearless nod, one that said, Good, someone here has some sense. Make sure he doesn’t mess with me again.
Venture only took a few steps into the alcove before he had to stop. Behind him, a row of bars formed a single eight-by-six foot cell.
It was already unlocked. The door, also made of iron bars, was open, waiting for him. The bright yellow tunic that would mark him as a convicted criminal was laid out on the bed. Again, something sank inside Venture. They’d known all along that Judge Plains was going to find him guilty. What had been the point of all the gathering of evidence, the building up of popular support, the fervent prayers?
He hesitated at the threshold, and Reed gave him a shove. He couldn’t do this. He’d rather go out fighting, right now. An escape attempt was the perfect excuse for these two to kill him.
All the faces from the antechamber flashed back at Venture. And Earnest’s and Beamer’s, Mrs. Bright’s and Connie’s, too. Even Rose. They were counting on him to do this. To somehow come back out and live again. To fight a different sort of fight. Dasher had promised him that if it came to this, he would do everything possible to motivate Governor Lockfield to pardon him. The wrong kind of defiance could eliminate any hope Dasher had of succeeding.
Venture stepped inside the cell.
The heavy iron door slid shut behind him, and the locks clicked into place. Reed directed him to turn and hold his hands to the bars, and Hardy removed the shackles. Venture made sure he didn’t show his relief. His hands were free, and now those two would lock the tower door behind them and leave him alone, and he could think. Figure out how he was going to deal with this.
But the guards didn’t leave.
“Get changed,” Reed said, “and throw your clothes out here.”
Venture began to comply. Both of them stood there, staring at him. Trying to mess with his head. Fine. They were about to find out a thing or two about Venture Delving. Venture folded his suit jacket carefully, then unbuttoned and shrugged off his sweat-soaked good shirt. He smiled confidently, the same way he would if a competitor tried to stare him down before a match.
Hardy and Reed stood, hands at their swords, as though they didn’t trust the bars. He was winning.
“Look at that, Hardy,” Reed sneered, trying to sound like he was making a game of it. “That’s Venture Delving, the Champion.”
But Venture knew that his body was a threat beyond words. Venture gave his pants a swift shake. They turned right-side-out with a snap. He finished folding his clothes, then, as though he couldn’t care less, he dropped them through the bars and began pulling on the hated yellow tunic.
“Hey, Reed.” Venture leaned close to the bars, “maybe next time I take a bath you can wash my backside for me. You seemed to enjoy looking at it.”
“You’d better learn to keep your mouth shut, boy, or you’re going to find yourself in a heap of trouble!”
Venture allowed him to reach through the bars and take hold of him by the tunic. Then Venture placed his hands over Hardy’s, and with one swift motion, pushed them down, off his collar, as he took a step back. He stood tall, shoulders square.
Out of Hardy’s reach, he folded his arms across his chest. “I can handle a little trouble.”
“We’ll see how tough you think you are after a few nights in here,” Hardy sputtered.
“You’ll be bawling within a week, Delving,” Reed said. “We’ll see to that.”
“That’s right. We always do.”
#
Darkness came, and the reality of how Venture’s life had changed ground into him, bit by painful bit, like grit into a raw wound. The simple, narrow wood box of a bed, made up with a single stiff wool blanket, promised no rest, but he lay down on it anyway. Reed sat in a chair against the wall opposite his cell, facing Venture’s bed as he slept. Halfway through the night, Hardy came and took his place. They were skillful spitters; they liked to spit at him just as he fell asleep, and then smile and go sit back down, to wait for the chance to do it again.
Why was it so hard to convince himself that this was only temporary, that Dasher would get him his pardon and have him released in a matter of days, a few weeks at the most?
Dasher always was inclined to tell him what he wanted to hear. And the truth, which weighed so heavily against Venture’s hopes, was that he was guilty. Whatever his reasons, he’d broken the laws of Richland.
Life wasn’t easy, wasn’t fair, and he didn’t expect it to be. But was this really how his life was supposed to play out? Was he really who he was, for this? Locked away, just like Will Fisher. It’s not right, he wanted to shout at God. It’s not supposed to be this way. It can’t be.
The darkness faded, and when day came, still, one of the guards watched him while the other
rested. They watched him dress, they watched him wash, they watched him eat, and they never tired of sneering at him.
Through the narrow window near the ceiling, the warm sun shone—a glimpse of freedom, taunting him in this place where hope, where dreams, disappeared in the shadows. A place where Venture Delving would be kept away from a world that had just begun to value him, a champion. A world whose suppositions he’d just begun to challenge. He would be hidden here—power and promise held at bay by stone and iron, by muscle and steel.
Chapter Eight
Fall’s Third Month, 659 After the Founding
Venture pushed himself off the gritty cell floor. He’d done all the push-ups, leg-lifts, and sit-ups he could manage. He tried not to think about Hardy watching him, and he began shadow-fighting, simulating the new training routine Earnest had planned for him as best he could. He and Earnest hadn’t actually gotten a chance to work through it on the mat.
What if I never do get the chance? Venture shrugged off the thought. He had to stick to his routine—on his knees every morning, praying for strength, for Jade’s safety, for all of his friends on the other side. Praying that this would be over soon, and that when it was, he’d be ready. Ready to defend his title. Ready to be the champion he’d always dreamed he’d be. Then, after breakfast, his workout. A little more intense, a little longer each day.
“Crazy bastard,” Hardy muttered. “You going to beat up your invisible friends for the next eight years? Gods know your real friends don’t care enough to come by. Even to write.”
Venture yanked the thin mattress off the bed and threw it against the wall. What he would give for a striking bag! Dust flew and bolts of pain shot through his bare hands and feet as he beat the moldering straw out of the threadbare casing.
Hardy was screaming at him to put the mattress back, to stop. The stained fabric split, and the cell filled with blackened straw, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough for the dark cloud of fury billowing inside Venture.
“You’re going to be sorry, Delving, you hear me?”
Venture heard, but he didn’t care, even when Hardy left to get backup. He scrunched up what he could of the straw, wadded the torn mattress cover around it, and hurled it at the wall, over and over again.
Six guards came. Venture kept his back to the cell door, fistfuls of straw clenched in hands trembling with rage. He didn’t look at them, but he’d counted their boot steps coming up the stairs.
“Hands on the wall!” Reed commanded. “Do it now, Delving!”
Venture let the straw fall to the stone floor. He braced his swollen hands on the wall and steeled himself for the beating. It wasn’t long before he was on his knees. Before he was lost in a blur of pain and rage and fading consciousness. He reached into his tunic and grasped his pendant, the emblem of his faith. All his mother had left him. He snapped the leather cord and ripped it off before they could. He clutched it in his fist and he roared to his feet and swung back at the guards.
#
They took my bed. That was Venture’s first thought when he woke the next morning, aching and shivering on the stone floor. Not just the mattress, which he’d destroyed, but the bed frame as well. He was bruised and swollen from head to toe. His nose was broken. Something was digging into the palm of his hand. His pendant.
Winter was almost here, and its chill permeated the tower walls and floor—and his aching body. His teeth chattered, painfully rattling his battered face. He pictured the leaves, long since turned and blown off by the wind, now forming a frosty crust over the ground.
He got up, trying not to groan. Reed was in his usual spot, arms crossed, watching him with one good eye. The other one was swollen shut.
Venture folded his blanket, as he did every morning, though this time he dropped it twice. Two of the fingers on his right hand seemed to be broken. It didn’t matter. He had to keep going. Venture hid the pendant in a fold of the blanket and proceeded with his morning routine.
But the guards hadn’t just beaten him with their fists the day before, they’d pierced him with their words.
“Better not leave him too marked up,” one had said. And the others had laughed. “Why? Who’s going to see? It’s not like he has any visitors. Venture Delving is old news. His friends have gotten over it just like everyone else has.”
Justice had even failed to answer his last, desperate letter. He’d been so hungry for a response, he’d told Justice everything he’d always wanted to hear—that he was right about him making a living spilling other men’s blood, that he was sorry. He’d begged him to invest the prize money he’d left behind in his business, his home, his girls. Justice had been ranting for years about having to print for the Crier. He wanted to start his own paper, publishing the truth instead of rumors. And the girls should have their own house in town, where they could be close to Justice and go to school.
That part he’d meant, with all his heart. But Justice would never do it. He’d rather let the fortune Venture was paying for in this cell go to waste. Just like Venture’s life. It was all for nothing. Everything he’d fought for. Maybe Justice was right after all.
Venture shoved those thoughts back, pushed through the pain of his exercises, picturing each opponent he might face in the arena next year, telling himself he would be there. That he’d be anywhere but here.
“A lot of good all that practicing did you yesterday,” Reed said. “Some champion.” A well-placed blow with the flat of a sword blade had put an end to Venture’s attempts to fight back.
Venture kept running in place, jabbing at the air in a steady rhythm.
“Face it. You’re in here now, Delving. And in here, you’re nothing.”
I’m getting out of here. I’m getting out of here. Soon.
“Out there,” Reed said, “You’re just a memory. And you’ll be forgotten soon enough.”
They’ll never forget. They won’t.
But it had been four months, and he hadn’t seen any of his friends or family. He’d heard no word from the outside world. He wanted desperately to be left alone, just for one minute. But at the same time, he was so alone, so starved for a friendly face, the presence of anyone whose goal wasn’t to break him down.
Reed and Hardy had promised to have him bawling within a week. They’d failed at that. But Venture knew it wouldn’t matter how long he’d held out—it would only matter that eventually he gave in.
He collapsed into the corner where his bed had been and pulled the threadbare blanket over his head. He meant to let himself fall apart just a little bit, but when he began to let himself feel it, he realized there would be no end to it, that Reed would at last have the pleasure of seeing him break down like all the others. So he shut it out. He filled his mind with imagined fights with his captors, fights in which he was victorious and they were the ones humiliated, they were the ones in pain. He let himself feel that dark satisfaction instead of his own pain. That was how he shut out what he couldn’t work out, how he drifted off to sleep again.
#
Venture stood up and bellowed at Hardy and Reed, “It’s been four months! I insist on it!”
“You’re a criminal.” Hardy said slowly, deliberately. “You have the right to insist on nothing.”
“I’ll give you a shave,” Reed smirked at him.
“If you think I’m going to let you come within arm’s length of me with a razor—”
Shaving wasn’t the worst of it. This morning, they’d spat in his breakfast before they shoved it through the little food hatch near the floor, and when he opened his mouth and had the nerve to say something about it, they came into the cell and one of them held his knife to his throat while the other slapped him, the way he hated, as though he were a little girl.
It might not be so bad to die after all, as long as he could kill these two in the process. But Jade would never forgive him for that, for giving up so soon. So Venture didn’t take the knife, even though he could’ve. But when they spat in his dinner porr
idge, he scooped that part out and threw it in Hardy’s face. Venture took a fine beating for that.
It was humiliating to know they thought he could do nothing to them, that he was a helpless prisoner. At the end of the day, Venture sat in his bedless corner and leaned against the wall, his legs outstretched and his arms crossed over his chest. He stared murderously at Hardy, feeling his hatred grow. I could kill him. I could kill him right now. Why should I let him live, when because of him, I live like this?
Chapter Nine
Winter’s Third Month, 659 After the Founding
Jade stared at the soft wool dress Viney had laid out for her. One of her favorite, most comfortable outfits. Viney had given up on trying to get her to put it on and come down for breakfast. Then Connie had come up with the tray, which now sat untouched on the bedside table, the coffee gone cold, the porridge turned to a lump as the chill winter morning turned to afternoon. Though the weather was still wintry, soon it would be a new year. It would be spring. So much time had passed. So many things had changed.
Without Venture.
Jade’s new stepmother, Felicity, kept her arm tight around her shoulders. She was good for Father. She had a wonderful laugh, even when it was mixed with tears of compassion for Jade, as she listened to her recount another story about Venture’s childhood mischief. And she’d married into this family during such awful, uncertain times.
“What a day it will be,” Felicity always said, “when I finally get to meet Venture Delving.” But today she just said, “Oh, Jade,” over and over.
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