by Jeff Gunzel
She waited until they were just about to turn, then jumped. A whirling cone of black floated right over the wall. A few soldiers glanced around after hearing the cawing of birds, but soon shrugged it off and continued their routes.
Hovering just above the sand, her whirling form spun along at a fair clip. The moon was bright tonight, its light helping to guide her along. After a few minutes of drifting along, the black cone settled on the ground. Having never held that form for that long before, she found it was extremely taxing on her body. Down on one hand and one knee, she gulped in the night air. Glancing ahead, she could see the open pit only a short ways up. Although it proved to be exhausting, she had managed to cover a great distance in a short amount of time.
In a final push, she blurred over to the edge of the pit. Melting back into humanoid form, she dropped to her knees and peeked over the edge. Had it not been for the moon, she would be staring into pitch-blackness. Even so, the quiet emptiness was quite unnerving. Everything looked so different now. It was hard to believe that hundreds of people had surrounded this pit only hours ago. Now, it might as well be an abandoned wasteland.
But despite the creepy atmosphere, she was relieved to see there were no guards at any of the gates. Bound in chains, alone in a dark dank tunnel, there was no risk that the beast might escape on his own.
Drifting down into the pit, she glided over to the gate where she had last seen the men drag him away. Fingers slipping through the iron grid, she peered into the darkness. “Hello?” she said softly, cringing slightly at the sound of her own voice. It might as well have been a shout, given the deathly quiet of the night and the echo bouncing off the walls.
The moonlight was adequate enough to locate the lever at the side of the gate. Holding her breath, she gave it a pull. If the sound of her voice had made her cringe, the clacking of the gate rising, followed by the heavy slam when it reached the top, made her want to run off into the night. The clanking sounds seemed to radiate around for several seconds before silence returned.
The arena was plenty dark, but this tunnel was black as black could be. The sour, musty scents of dampness and mildew were nearly overwhelming. Building her courage, she took a step in before her toe struck something on the ground. She bent down to examine the sack, rationalizing that there must be a reason for it lying right at the entrance like this. Flipping it on its side, flint and steel spilled out at her feet. Good, she thought, considering using it to strike sparks as she walked, using the flashes to light her way.
Striking them twice in succession produced two quick flashes. Gaining vision for a moment, something caught her eye over on the wall. She inched towards that spot and struck them a third time. Relieved, she caught a glimpse of a torch mounted on the wall. After slipping the torch from its bracket and laying it on the sand, she produced a few sparks and had the oil-primed torch blazing in a few moments. Lifting it high, she watched as bugs and rodents scattered into the cracks of the walls. She shivered, realizing those critters had her surrounded until the light scared them off.
Glancing up ahead with new vision gained from the torchlight, she froze. The tunnel wasn’t deep at all. Perhaps fifty feet ahead, she could see a figure sitting on the floor, chained and covered with dirty wrappings. She could only assume it was him.
“Jarlen?” she squeaked, barely able to speak. With the dripping torch hissing above her head, she made her way towards the motionless wrapped figure. She couldn’t even be sure he was alive. She dropped to one knee before him, holding the torch near his face to get a good look. Covering his eyes were thin metal plates with small chains hanging from the center of each. “Jarlen?” she repeated. Drops of liquid fire dripped from the torch, sizzling against the damp, sandy floor.
“Who’s there?” he asked in a hoarse voice, causing her to jump back. It was actually the first time he had moved since she entered the tunnel. She tried to reply, but couldn’t seem to find her voice. “You’re not one of the regular soldiers. An assassin, then?” He laughed, his bandaged body shaking with limited mobility. “So, my time has come?”
“No!” Viola blurted out, finding her voice once again. “I’m not here to hurt you.”
“No,” he said, appearing to agree for the moment. “You made as much noise as possible opening that gate, then fumbled around trying to get that torch of yours lit, before finally stumbling back here to find me. If you’re an assassin, you’re the most incompetent one I’ve ever seen. So it’s the middle of the night, you’re not one of the usual soldiers who watches the pit, and you claim you’re not here to kill me. Then who are you, and why are you here?”
Viola touched him on the shoulder. He tensed, but displayed no signs of aggression. Since he was chained tightly, she doubted he could do anything even if he wanted to. “I saw you on the road before they brought you here,” she said. “I know you saw me too.” His whole body seemed to go stiff. “I know you did. Do you remember?”
“Give me your hand,” he said softly. There was movement from underneath his wrappings, and he managed to slip his fingers out. She hooked her fingers with his, and let him squeeze her hand firmly. Feeling her icy-cold grip, his thumb moved across the top of her hand. “Viola?” he whispered, a slight break in his voice. She fell on him, wrapping him as tightly as she could with her arms. Face pressed against his wrapped cheek, she sobbed relentlessly.
“But how?” he asked.
“You remembered when you saw me on the road,” she wailed, rocking him back and forth in her arms.
“I remember seeing you,” he admitted. “Somehow, I could sense you were like me. I could feel it. Even wearing that silly wig...I still knew. But I have no prior memory of you from before that.”
She sat back, wiping tears from her eyes. “But you do remember me, right? You know my name. I’m your sister.”
“I was told I had a sister many years ago. That’s why I know your name. But as far as any memories go,” his shoulders slumped, “I feel as if this is the first time we’ve met. I remember nothing from my youth.”
Viola surged to her feet. Frantically, she began tugging at his bindings. “I’m getting you out of here!” she said.
“Stop,” he said, his bound body swaying with each tug. She ran her hand along one of the chains and began tugging at its bolt hammered deep into the stone. “Please stop,” he repeated quietly. “Do you honestly think you’ll break my chains with your bare hands?” She kicked the stone wall in frustration before collapsing on his back, embracing him while she wept. Of course she knew that wasn’t going to work. Her senseless reaction was just a blind panic.
“Viola, you have to listen to me,” he warned, a hard edge to his suddenly stern voice. “All is not lost. For years I have been working to gain favor with the queen.” He shook his head, not even knowing where to begin. He couldn’t possibly explain it all right now. “You needn’t worry about me. By tomorrow evening, I will be a free man!”
She came around to face him, her watery eyes dancing with wild excitement. “You have a plan to escape? But how? How are you going to—”
“There’s no time to explain,” he said. “In only a few hours I’ll be transported back to the keep. You cannot be here when they come for me.” Nervously, she glanced over her shoulder. It hadn’t occurred to her that someone might be coming soon. “To the west of the sands, at the outermost edge of the forest, meet me there tomorrow evening,” he said.
Viola was so excited that she could hardly contain her emotions. “We’ll finally be together! My friends, you have to meet them. From now on we will take care of each other like the family we are.”
“No,” he said sternly. “Do not bring the humans with you. You come alone, and then we shall leave together...alone.”
“But why?” she asked, eyeing the wide-open gate. “I trust them. They’re my family.”
Jarlen laughed, shaking his bound arms beneath his wrappings. “I, too, once trusted the humans. You see what that earned me?” He shook his cha
ined wrists for emphasis. “Did you see them out there today calling for my head?” Viola said nothing, clearly remembering their calls for blood. In no way could she argue his point.
“So, you believe you’ve joined up with the good ones? I saw them with you on the road. You even had a tarrin with you,” he said.
“Her name is Thatra,” Viola whispered.
“I care not what her name is! Don’t you see? Deception is in their very nature. I imagine you had to slip away into the night just to find me?” Her silence proved answer enough. “By extending your leash a tiny bit, they’ve given you the illusion of freedom. But intuitively, you know you are nothing more than their pet.” The word pet rattled around in her head. “That is why you snuck out in the middle of the night to come find me. Your handlers would have never permitted it otherwise.”
“But they’re my friends,” she reasoned, the volume of her voice decreasing with each word. She didn’t sound as certain this time.
“Friends?” he scoffed. “I, too, thought the same thing once. Do you think they throw me into a pit to fight like an animal for their entertainment because they view me as an equal? You and I do not belong in their world. Their actions towards me prove this daily. Your loyalty to these humans can only end one way. Sooner or later, you will outlive your usefulness.” He rattled his chains once more. “If you’re lucky, they will eliminate you rather than bestow this fate upon you.”
“I-I don’t want to believe you,” she said. “They’ve been so kind to me.”
“A butcher is kind to a pig before leading it to slaughter,” Jarlen shot back. “That way, the stupid animal is easier to control. Is that what you are, a stupid animal?”
“No,” she sighed.
“Good. Now go. You must get out of here before they come for me. Remember, I will meet you tomorrow night.” She nodded, even though he couldn’t see her, and started for the open gate.
“Do not forget,” he called out. “They are not your family. I am. Whatever they told you is nothing more than a well-thought-out lie to get what they want from you. From now on it is just you and me. We do not need them.”
She smothered the torch in the sand and placed it back on the wall. After peering out into the arena to make sure no one was there, she closed the gate and whirled up to the edge of the pit. It was still plenty dark, but the horizon was just starting to take on an orange hue. Off in the distance, she could see a caravan heading this way. It was that same wheeled cage surrounded by soldiers on horseback. She had left just in time.
Taking a longer route just to avoid them, she whirled back towards the city. A well-timed spin over the top of the wall, followed by a few hops across the rooftops, found her back at the inn. Feeling drained and confused, she dragged herself back up the steps. Her bed was a welcome sight even if it did make her feel guilty. Why was she allowed to rest in a place like this while he sat all alone in that dark, dank tunnel? But he assured her he had a way out. Although she knew little about his plan, she would trust his judgment.
Morning light came with the expected knock at her door. She opened her eyes to a surprisingly well-lit room. They must have let her sleep longer than usual. She had no complaints about it, given her eventful night. Starting for the door, she snapped her fingers and veered aside, turning towards the basin. There, she found her wig and eyepieces. Less than a minute later, she was back at the door, fully disguised this time. Xavier was standing there grinning like a child. She acknowledged him with a sleepy glance, then turned away, leaving the door partially open.
“Good morning,” he said, slipping through the partially open door. “Did you sleep well?”
“Well enough,” she replied, sounding disinterested while making the bed. Jarlen’s warnings echoed in the back of her mind. Do not trust them... They are your handlers, not your friends... She felt the urge to turn and punch Xavier right in the face. How dare he play with her emotions like that? Is that what you are, a stupid animal? Was she really just a pet to them who would someday outlive its usefulness?
“I brought you something.” Irritated by just the sound of his voice, she whirled about. He held out a bouquet of purple flowers, their petals tipped with bits of yellow. She froze, hands covering her open mouth. “I found a shop that was open early this morning. When I saw these, I thought of you.” Carefully, she took them from his hand and pulled them to her nose. They smelled so sweet. “You know, just something for the room,” he added.
“Huh?” she said, lost in the act of admiring her wonderful gift.
“To add some color to the room? I thought you might put these in a vase with water or something.”
“Oh, right.” Holding them carefully as if they were made of crystal, she made her way over to the mantle. There was no vase, but she did have a leftover cup sitting there. It would have to do. Cup in one hand, flowers in the other, she went over to the basin to scoop up some water. Part of her was furious at herself for being so happy with the gift. It’s a lie. He’s just trying to trick me. She sniffed the flowers once more. But I can pretend it’s real. I can pretend he likes me. There’s no harm in that, right?
“I was hoping to take you someplace today,” he called out, wondering what was taking her so long. “There is a tavern up the street that claims to have the finest roast pig in Shadowfen, or so I hear. Liam says we can explore the city as long as we stay in pairs and don’t split up. Want to be my partner?” he teased.
She laughed to herself, still facing away while holding the cup of flowers. She sniffed them again, a tear rolling down her cheek. It’s all right as long as I know it’s pretend. After tonight, it won’t matter, anyway. Wiping a tear from her cheek, she composed herself and went back into the room. Setting the cup up on the mantle, she turned to Xavier and forced a smile. “Then I guess we better get going.”
* * *
Standing around at his usual post, the guardsman scratched at his greasy beard. Another day, another boring shift. Hearing footsteps thump down the steps, he straightened, trying to appear alert. “Oh,” he said, eyes lighting up with surprise. “I-I wasn’t informed that—” A blade flashed across his neck, sending a red mist spattering across the wall. Eyes wide open, he hit the floor with a heavy thud. As air hissed through his slashed throat, two pairs of heavy black boots stepped right over the dying man.
Alone in his cell, Jarlen lay on his bed of straw, fingers locked behind his head while gazing at the ceiling. Emotions swirled through his mind, and he found it hard to focus his thoughts. Viola, his long-lost sister, had come to him out of nowhere. This, just after he had somehow survived a tournament that was supposed to be his last. And how did he manage to do that? That portal had just snapped shut for some reason, practically handing him a victory. Faulty magic, perhaps? Did Viola have something to do with that? He shook the thought away, thinking it was probably best to count his blessings rather than wonder where they came from.
Now all he had to do was wait. He was well aware of Bella’s love for him. She would crawl to the farthest corners of Ayrith if he asked her to. She had promised she would free him, and he had no reason to doubt her. Just outside, he could hear someone lifting the bolt from the door. Good, she has finally come for me. Now to be rid of this—
The door blasted inward. Alarmed, Jarlen lunged to his feet. Diovok entered, his hand raised as a shining light radiated from underneath his mask. Blinding pain crackled through Jarlen’s body, immobilizing his senses, dropping him to his knees. The king strolled in behind him. Casually, he leaned against the wall with his hands tucked behind him.
“Well, well, if it isn’t the demon of Shadowfen down on his knees before his king,” Milo said, wearing a bored expression, turning over his hand to get a better look at his fingernails. After a subtle gesture towards the shaman, the searing pain eased. Jarlen gasped as paralyzed lungs finally managed to take in some air. “Don’t you have something to tell your king?” Shoulders rising and falling with heavy breaths, Jarlen managed to get back to
his hands and knees. He glanced up, feigning a vacant stare as drool dripped from the corner of his mouth.
When Milo gestured a second time, the fiery pain increased tenfold. The assault was beyond anything he had ever felt. With every muscle in his body contracting at once, he vomited violently. Twitching on the ground, his mind could grasp nothing but pain. A tiny voice inside his head urged him to cling to his sanity—a weak, distant voice that was fading quickly. Mere seconds felt like hours... He endured a virtual lifetime of searing pain no mind, human or otherwise, was ever meant to endure.
At last the pain subsided in a cool rush. He was still uncomfortable, but the dull ache was a far cry from the hellish torment endured just moments ago. “Although I still consider you to be little more than an animal, I know you can speak,” Milo growled. “I would suggest you do so now. My patience with you is at an end. Reveal to me now what I already know to be true and spare us the absurdity of this game.” Jarlen’s mind raced with panic. How did he find out? Was there any way out of this? And where was Bella when he needed her the most?
“Very well,” said the king, turning away with a roll of his eyes. A measured amount of pain began coursing through Jarlen’s body once more. It was nowhere near the level of torment before, but it was still agonizing. “Truth be told,” the king continued, “I don’t really believe in second chances. Especially when I hold all the advantage and you hold nothing at all. I imagine you’re wondering where my lovely wife is right about now.”
Jarlen’s head snapped up, his tortured eyes managing to focus on the king.
“If it helps to put your mind at ease, her suffering will be far worse than your own,” he continued. “You see, you have already lost. Your pointless defiance shall only prolong your agony.” After he motioned towards the door, Diovok was the first to leave. “We’ll just leave you in this state for a day or two. The pain isn’t exactly unbearable, yes? But believe me, within the next two hours or so, you will be begging for death. See you tomorrow.” Milo stepped through the door. “Or perhaps the day after,” the king added with a shrug.
