Chapter 9 - Prattle and Allay
The chains simply fell off. As if they had never been fastened. One after the other his fellow jailers gained their apparent freedom…until the sixth in line. His chains remained. The Langoran wasted no time in trying to loose his fellow brothers, but to no effect. He grunted in anger and gave them a solemn stare. The prisoner bowed his head in shame, understanding what it meant. The rest of his brethren would stay as prisoners.
His brother tried to mutter a word of encouragement but no ears were listening. The Langoran scratched his head, bald now from years of neglect. His skin was pale and smooth to the eye, chiseled and hard to the touch. Despite years of sitting, his muscles rippled larger than ever before. His pent up energy was giving him strength beyond what he’d ever seen in the Kingdom. Surely the Allayans knew better than to let a Langoran lie dormant? Didn’t they? Well, it didn’t matter in the end.
Their idiocy would be their folly, their demise, their death…and his revenge. He glanced throughout the room at the other so-called “monsters” around him, his fellow Langorans, who were never thought to be considered human by the Allayans. In their laziness, they had given up speaking a long time ago, refusing to mull over different interpretations of words and struggling to find meaning. For messages that were important enough to spend the energy on conveying, a few grunts and hand motions had been sufficient. The other Langorans were like him—hairless and about to explode due to the size of their muscles—shared his disgust for the Allayans. They didn’t mind if they were still prisoners. They would be avenged.
The Langoran pounded his chest once, signifying he would lead the hunt. The four that were also freed nodded in agreement and turned toward the wooden door that led to the outside. The Langoran hit it with a palm, and the door crumbled, shattering to splinters. The others chuckled as they struggled through the small frame. The leading Langoran began his ascent when he heard a clearing of the throat behind him. A strange gesture for his people. It was a miracle at all that he remembered its significance. He turned around to see someone who was not of his kind.
Small in frame and height, this man still had his hair. Pitch black long hair that came down to his shoulders. A disgustingly bony figure that tried to peek through his baggy clothes, showing that he at one time had more meat on him. He was barefoot and clutched his arms, trying to fight the chilly air that interrupted their usually humid atmosphere. The Langoran stepped forward as the man smirked in response.
“Ah yes, to you I am ugly, but as they say, beauty is only skin deep. I have a lot more to offer you than what meets the eye, my friend.”
The Langoran grunted in response. He understood this talkative man, yet he was also annoyed at the extremity of his speech.
“As I’m sure you’ve guessed by now, I am not a Langoran. You would be correct. I am actually a Prattlian. One of those mouthy types that rattle off about nothing, except, I am not like my acquaintances. I allowed myself to get captured with you and yours in order to gain something. I knew the Allayans could be arrogant enough to overlook me, especially that Kyran, as he is so sure he never makes a mistake. However, this is a blunder that may haunt him forever. I knew that you Langorans in particular were guards of the border, forced to move around a lot so you were particularly skinny at the time you were caught. That was the best time for me to get captured with your group. I would hardly pass for the brutes you are now. It was hard enough building my figure to the point I could blend in with you as you were back then. I shudder at the thought, but I digress. A habit of my people we will not soon expel. What is your name?”
The Langoran closed his eyes, trying to find the effort it took to speak. It had been so long.
“Keel,” he half said, half groaned.
“Keel. My name is Alexander. Nice to meet you. Now while I am hardly the type to insult someone of your stature, I must say that it would be in your best interest to take me along. I know you are strong of body, but not of mind. If you do what I say, I guarantee that I will bring you to victory and we will find a way for all of your people to be free.”
Keel nodded his head down in a violent manner.
“Excellent. Now, first we have to assess what we’re up against. I heard some talking while we were down here and it sounded like children, but we have to make sure. You and your group should give chase, but when you come upon them, have only one engage. You and the others stay back until further notice, understood?”
Keel grunted something inaudible and picked up Alexander with one sweep of his arm. He placed him on his shoulder which was a staggering nine feet off the ground. Alexander had to practically jump on Keel’s back as he slammed through the frame, unlike his colleagues who had squeezed through. Outside, with a few grunts and points toward Alexander, the plan was made. Alexander sat on his new bodyguard with a devilish grin.
“Now, let us see how an Allayan handles the mind of a Prattlian.”
The Last of the Sages (Sage Saga, Book 1) Page 15
