by B.J. Keeton
***
“My, my, boss, what a nice little cell you’ve found for us. Think you might be able to rustle us up some shackles, too?”
“I’m sorry, Chuckie,” Ceril said, “but it was the only option we had.”
“Like hell it was. We killed two of them easy.”
“Yeah, we did. We basically put guns in their mouths when we killed them, too. Did you also happen to notice that any time we’ve shot at them from a distance that they’re damn near invincible? We had no choice. I had no choice.”
“There’s always a choice,” Chuckie muttered. “You just didn’t want to make it.”
“No,” Ceril said. “I didn’t. After the four of them stood there like we’d never unloaded on them, I have to say I was a little overwhelmed. And when I tried to cut one of them in half with my Flameblade, what then?”
“You fell down.”
“Yes, Chuckie, I fell down. Without my weapon. When I got close enough to the things to attack, my sword disappeared. I couldn’t summon it back, either.”
“Did you try?”
“Chuckie,” Saryn said, “be fair.” Chuckie glared at her.
“Of course I tried, Chuckie. I’m trying right now. Somehow, they’ve cut me off from my Flameblade, and that’s never happened before. Since before we boarded the Sigil, it was just kind of…there. Now, I can’t seem to feel it, to find it anywhere. I’m cut off from it.”
“I didn’t even know that was possible,” Saryn said.
“Me, neither,” Ceril agreed. “So when I realized that I was cut off, Chuckie, and the fact that they were—let me reiterate—damn near invincible, I decided the best thing we could do was surrender. Because they obviously weren’t there to kill us.”
“Whatever,” Chuckie said. “Like I said, it’s a nice little cell you found for us.”
Ceril looked at Saryn, who just shook her head—the universal signal for it’s not worth it. “You know, it actually kind of is when you think about it.”
“I was being sarcastic, Ceril.”
“Oh, I know that, Chuckie. But you’re right. I mean, it’s really not so bad.” Ceril stood up and began to pace the perimeter of their makeshift cell. It was really just a stone fence these days—at one point, it had probably been a hut or home of some kind, but time had been unkind to the structure. “When’s the last time you were held prisoner in a cell with no walls or ceiling? We have plenty of room to walk around, the weather’s actually not that bad since we have the breathers for the smell, and the sky is beautiful.” He craned his neck up and stared at the stars. He wasn’t wrong; the stars in this Instance were purple pricks of light in a sky swathed in faint green swirls of clouds and cosmic dust even further away.
Not so easily impressed or manipulated, Chuckie said, “All I see is a kidnapping angel on every side of me, and no roof over my head. What are we going to do if it starts to rain again, huh? We still don’t know if it’s acid rain.”
“Conjure a roof, then, an umbrella or something. There’s not a thunderhead in sight, Chuckie. I don’t think it’s going to rain. Relax.”
“I don’t mean to sound like I’m on Chuckie’s side, Ternia, but what’s gotten into you? How can you see this situation as being a good thing? We’re being held prisoner.”
Ceril shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said. “I just have a feeling that if they were going to hurt us, we’d be hurt already, and since Harlo and Swinton aren’t here with us, there’s a rescue party out there coming for us.”
“Maybe,” Chuckie said.
“Definitely,” Ceril corrected.
Chuckie stood up. “Enough of this crap. I know you’re the boss and all that, but this is garbage. We’re getting out of here. I’m getting out of here. Before it’s not my decision to make.” He walked quickly over the broken ruin that made the cell’s boundary, and the second his foot hit the ground outside, the closest guardian angel whipped his hand around and slammed it into Chuckie’s sternum.
Chuckie fell to the ground, and all the air left his lungs. He wheezed as he stared at the angel, who had already resumed his previous, stoic position. Chuckie charged again, this time getting both feet over the broken foundation before being knocked back inside where he was supposed to be.
“Okay, then,” Chuckie said, “maybe I’m not.”
Ceril suppressed a smile and sat down beside Chuckie. “Look, I know it’s not ideal, being kept inside what’s left of an old building like we’re chickens in a pen, but it’s where we are. I have a couple of ideas on how to get out of here, but I’m going to need some time to work them out. In the morning, I think we’ll have a better chance at it, anyway. We get away right now, where do we go?”
“Out there.” Chuckie waved his arm in an arc.
“Which is where? We have no idea where we are, and in case you haven’t noticed, Chuckie, this Instance hasn’t been the friendliest place we’ve ever been. So I’m asking you as a friend, not telling you as your commanding officer, to give me until morning to work out some way for us to get out of here.”
Chuckie grumbled something incoherent, and then lay back and stared at the sky.
“Chuckie? What was that?” Ceril asked.
“Fine,” Chuckie said. “But we’re getting out of here in the morning. One way or another.”
“At least we don’t disagree on that.”
