Chapter 2: Prisoners and Blood REDUX
The blow dazed me enough that I did not put up a fight as men in armor dragged me down a narrow hallway lit by burning torches. I barely made a sound beyond a small whimper when shoved into a dank cell. As the cell door slammed shut, I sat in shock with my jaw still smarting, over what had just happened. I could still feel the man's grip from the dream holding me in place, the sensation of my bones almost breaking, and the chanting. Curling up into a ball on the stone floor, I tried to wipe from my mind that grotesque smile, but the more I tried the more the image stayed fresh in my head. Almost immediately, my body certain that nothing else would happen began to shut down. It was not until I could feel my eyes close that I gave one last halfhearted attempt to stay awake for fear of seeing the green sky. My body and mind ignore me, and I soon felt the cold damp of the cell drift away…
A sharp pain in my hand rouses me and I drowsily looked across the stone floor. All I see are beady eyes and yellow teeth trying to rip into the skin of my outstretched hand. Yelping, I flail throwing the thing hard enough against the cell bars to make them ring loudly. The creature twitched violently before becoming still. Clutching my hand, I stare at the dead animal confused for a moment. I almost reflectively ask myself where I am before it becomes painfully obvious. The scene plays out in my head: the dream, the man, the sensation of my body breaking, and finally thrown into a cell by men in armor. I want to laugh at the entire situation and I almost do, as I feel better rested than I had in some time because of not seeing that damn sky or floating city. As quickly as the feeling of laughter comes, it changes to anger and disbelief. Why? Why did the dreams decide to disappear now? Was it because those men kidnapped me? Wait, no. They came at the end, but then who…?
"You will be enough to answer his call."
I swore. It was that man's fault, from the dream, whatever the hell he-it-was. Son of a – it is because of him, I am wherever this place is. Wishing I had paid better attention to my surroundings, I looked around to see if I could use anything to get out of the cell. Other than the dead rat, my cell was empty. Nothing but a small scatter of straw and a tiny iron grate in the floor, which judging by the smell; was to be my new restroom. The walls were made of solid stone and no matter how hard I pushed, the stones would not budge. The cell bars gave me the same resistance as I tried to shake them loose. I did not have anything on me besides my pajamas so trying to pick the lock on the door was out of the question. Even trying to squeeze my way out was not an option as the bars were too close together. Sighing, I rested my head against the bars hoping that something could help me, something that I was not seeing.
A small hoarse cough got my attention, and I saw that I was not alone. There were two cells in front of mine, both occupied. The one on the left had a man dressed rather ostentatiously in fur and bright colored clothing. He did not seem to be paying anyone any attention; instead, he focused on pacing his small cell and muttering under his breath. In the cell next to him, however, the occupant gave another hoarse cough and shivered near the bars of his cell. Whereas the other man was, obviously, someone of some wealth this man looked rather rough. He wore clothing that looked to have multiple faded patches sewn on throughout and no shoes. He did not speak and looked ill with his pale face halfway framed in shadow. I did not hear anyone else beyond the two men and it was doubtful that they would help me when they were also in the same predicament as I.
With nothing to do, time seemed to crawl by slowly. There were no windows in dungeon to let me know when if it was night or day. Soon, gusts of cool air entered the chamber and three guards entered carrying what looked like food and water. The man in fur immediately started screaming at the guards when one of them slid his food under the bars, which they simply ignored. The other man curled up into a ball as if to make himself smaller. One guard dumped the food right outside the bars of his cell grinding the meal with a boot into the stone with disgust. Luckily, our water came in small water skins so even when thrown, not one drop was spilled. However, that did not stop the guard from deliberately emptying the water in front of the ragged man who could do no more than try to scrape up the puddle with his hands.
When it was my turn, I was surprised. My guard looked wary when he faced me with one had a hand on the hilt of his sword, giving me the impression that he would not hesitate to cut me down if I tried anything. Carefully, he rolled the food under the bars along with my water skin. Looking down, I saw that the food was ten times better than what the others had to eat. An apple, half an onion, a root vegetable, a small loaf of bread, and something gray that smelled like fish. Before I could do anything the guards left, leaving me baffled. Why was I getting special treatment? I could see the man in the fur glowering at me, unsatisfied with his gray looking gruel that was on his own tray. I picked up the onion and offered it to him. Maybe he was just as much of a victim as I was. Eating whatever that stuff was could put anyone in a foul mood. The man simply chose to shout at me instead and while I could not understand him, the gist of it came through just fine. Fuck off. I retracted the onion half and saw out of the corner of my eye the other man's gaze honed on the food in my hand. Catching his attention, he recoiled and tried to make himself small again.
Not even thinking about it, I lightly tossed the vegetable at his cell hoping that it would not break apart when it hit the ground or bounce off the bars. Luck was on my side. The onion remained intact along with half of the small loaf bread I tossed after. I debated for a minute about the water. How long could I go without it? I had not exactly narrowed down the timing of the guards, but I doubted it would be too long before they came back with more. With that hope, I threw the water skin to the man as well, figuring that I could last much longer than he could. Of course, I probably just gave food and water to an axe murder that drowned puppies for fun making the guards' treatment of him justified. Nonetheless, I felt better about sharing with the man who sat speechless looking back between his nourishment and me, giving off a vibe of hesitation. Meeting my eyes, he slowly turned his head and I saw something that was the strangest thing beyond the dream. The man's ears were long and pointed. I felt my jaw drop. You have to be kidding me. I had not noticed with him hiding half in the shadows of his cell because I was certain I would have fainted had I known that an elf was only a few feet away from me.
Clearly, expecting my disgust or loathing at his silent admission, he looked embarrassed at my awe and quickly took the food and water, sitting with his back to the bars. I turned to my food as well, chewing the remaining hard bread thoughtfully. After everything that happened, and the fact that I was behind bars, the idea of an elf tickled me. Seriously, where was I? If I made it out of here, would I run into fairies too? Perhaps, I would even see dwarves and their lust for finding treasure in underground caverns. I had not read any fairytales or fantasy books since I was a kid. It was not until I meet my friends and coworkers, some of which were avid fans, which reintroduced me to the genre again. They dragged me to movie showings and book signings, and getting me involved along with babysitting their children who always requested to read some of the grittier fairytales. Now, I was trying to figure out if any of the stories had any connection to wherever this place was. A cool gust of wind interrupted my thoughts as it made the flames of the torches dance and me shiver. Odd, the guards had already delivered the food so, who…?
The scuff of metal and boots on the stone answered my question. Accompanied by a guard, a man stood outside my cell, clothed in bright fiery colored robes, his bushy beard threaded with silver, and eyes that made me feel like I was looking into a dark chasm. He smiled, showing brown, but straight teeth as he looked me up and down, making my skin crawl. I tensed and backed up with my hands raised as I saw the man take out a knife from his belt. The man just laughed and slid the blade deep across his arm. What the hell?
Blood welled up from the wound, but it was strange. A cut that deep should have had blood flowing from the slit. Instead, the blood was contained in a thin red line. With an offhand gesture, I felt my entire body freeze in place. I could not move even if I wanted to. The man spoke in a soft voice, waving his wounded hand back and forth. Feeling as if someone had slipped into my skin, I found that my own hand began to mirror his actions. Satisfied, the man stood aside while the guard opened the cell. Another gesture and I walked out of the cell feeling like a living puppet. I saw the elf looking frightened and the man in fur, screaming at us in rage before the door closed behind us. We walked, I in step with the mage, through the large room filled with chains and empty cells into a dimly lit passage eventually turning sharply into a cluttered room. Books stacked haphazardly in piles in the corners of the small room while scrolls of paper littered a small desk against the wall. Simple shelves adorned the walls holding glass vials of liquids ranging in color from smoky black to bright orange along with large hunks of crystals still embedded in rock. The centerpiece of the room was a familiar ring of glyphs on the floor glowing faintly. The guard left us alone, closing the door behind him. I understand who the man is when he stands me in the ring and makes me take his knife and cut into my skin. As the blood drips onto the circle, I can hear an echo of a dark laugh while flashes of green dart across my vision.
"Foolish. The mage dares to summon me? As if I was a dog meant to heel to his call."
My mind is only able to piece together that the word mage was short for magician before I feel my body squeezed into an invisible tube and the man begins to speak in a familiar chant. Bones start to bend almost as though they are ready to snap and muscles contract painfully. The green so familiar to me now begins to brighten filling my vision until it clears suddenly, and I am facing the mage, who is sweating and out of breath. He takes a swig of something from a vial that is so red it coats his teeth and he begins again. Only when the mage begins to shake, does he stop the ritual and walks me back to my cell, my puppet strings tightly wound even after the cell door closes. I cannot move and I stand staring straight ahead at nothing. After some time I start to shake, just enough to feel my muscles loosening up until it turns into full-blown spasms and I am finally able to scream from the pain.
If time seemed to crawl by slowly before, it picked up speed now. I became frightened of the cold drafts coming through the dungeon, as I did not know if it was just the guards or the mage. It did not matter, the mage would come, and I would feel the sensation of someone wearing my skin all due to his desire for the monster in the otherworld. The mage may have failed the first time, but it was just a minor setback. I was now his key to reverse the process to try as many times as possible until he got what he wanted.
The effect of the mage's spell would linger for days making it difficult to sleep, as my hands would twitch still believing that I held a blade in my hand or my arms would throb from the cuts he healed but still felt the cold bite of steel. The lack of sleep turned out to be a blessing in disguise. The food I received, likely to keep my blood decent for the man's experiments had attracted rats to my cell. Due to their numbers, I had gotten adept at catching and killing them. If I waited too long they had the ability to swarm my food before I could split it with the elf. While wary of me after my first round with the mage, he still accepted the food and water I gave him. I did not care if he was in here for murder or some such. Feeding him made me feel as if I still had some control of my situation. I just wished that if he did kill someone, it affected the ones who kept us here. Sometimes, when I killed rats in my cell I imagined that they had the faces of the guards, the mage, the man with the hooked nose, the monster in the dream, everyone. To add insult to injury, I shove the dead carcasses through the metal grate where I relieved myself as a perverse pleasure in hopes that they would receive a similar comeuppance.
The mage's sessions became more terrifying as his frustrations at the lack of progress showed. I would be forced to drink some of the concoctions from his shelves that he felt would help with the summoning, some of which I would react badly to making it difficult to keep me upright as my body would try to purge it out of my system. The mage would cut into my arms himself, angling the blood or mixing it with something else while keeping track of previous wounds and avoiding arteries but deep enough that I could only scream in my head.
It was only after new guards came to bring us food that I started to sabotage myself. The elf received his food without tampering by the guards, the same grey substance as the man in fur while I still received better fare. I pointed to his tray and we switched food, though he did give me a look of uncertainty. I just smiled. If the mage needed my blood healthy, he would have to force-feed me. The grey substance was difficult to eat and I contemplated if starving would be a better option. The water helped to choke it down, but it was not easy. I could feel the elf still watching me and knew he had not started on his own meal yet. I was going to mime to him to eat when the telltale squeaking got my attention. Annoyed, I killed another rat, banging it against the bars until it stopped moving. The elf coughed to get my attention, and then spoke in the same language as the mage and guards, though without the harshness I associated with it.
"I'm sorry, but I don't understand," I croaked out, my voice strained from screaming. Seeing the elf's shocked expression, I gathered that he didn't speak English. I tried some rudimentary Spanish and German, but to no avail. I sighed. The man scratched his head, and then pointed. I was confused as to what he was pointing to, but looking down I saw that he was pointing to the dead rat in my hand, its feet curled and mouth open. I pointed at the rat, hoping that he was not really asking for it, but a nod answered my question. I shrugged, if the elf wanted the rat, it meant that I would not have to share cell space with it or cram it down the iron grate. Stretching my hand and arm through the bars, and with a flick of the wrist, I watched the dead animal sail through the air and hit his cell bars. Even with the food I gave him, he looked enthusiastically happy with his present. He swiftly picked up the rodent, and with some tied straw was able to bring the animal to the burning touch next to his cell. The smell of seared hair was eye watering. Even the man with the fur shouted his displeasure. Eventually, the smell was gone and the man retraced his prize that was still on fire until he blew it out. He nodded to the rodent then to me. I shook my head. No thank you, you keep your dead and roasted rat. The man shrugged and processed to rip into his meal even adding some of the onion from his meal to it.
I should have been disgusted, but I received actual food while he was stuck with the grey garbage and water. I would throw him all the rats he desired along with my meals if that helped him not starve. For how long I could do so, I could not say. The mage was frustrated and it was only a matter of time before he simply slit my throat in hopes that all of my blood would be enough to summon what he desired. I did not want him to succeed with his plans to bring that thing into this world. I knew it was hopeless, but I was willing to try damn near anything to get to prevent it from happening. I tried to dream of the alien green sky, but it seemed without the mage I had normal dreams or no dreams at all when I slept. The guards were no help, as they ignored us prisoners, even when I tried to goad them to get their attention. After another painful session with the mage, I had nearly given up on ways to escape when I killed another rat. I was about to throw it to the elf when I had an idea. Taking a cue from him, I tied together bits of straw (badly) and hoisted the rat on top in what I hoped was stable enough to do what I wished reaching for the torch closest to me. Seeing the man in fur made me believe that he was of some importance or something to protect despite him being here with the rest of us. With that in mind, I was going to try to knock down one of the burning torches. There was enough straw and hay on the floor to make it a problem for everyone if burned. I reached for the torch outside my cell, but found the distance too far, even with the stiff straw adding a few extra inches. I would have to throw it.
My strength along with the rat was not enough to knock the torch down, but the rat caught on fire just fine. It did not drop to the floor as I hoped though. Instead, it just rolled back and stuck on the sconce holding the torch aloft. We all experienced burning hair once again, but without the benefit of someone being able to eat it or the hope of it making the hay catch fire aiding in our escape. A suppressed cough had me looking at the elf whose shoulders appeared to be shaking. The other man in fur was bellowing again, no doubt about the smell, sending me a dirty look.
Defeated, I sunk to the cold floor out of options of where to go from here besides doing nothing but waiting for the mage to finish me. More squeaking from the corner rouses me from musings making me irritated. Too many times have I tried to sleep only to be plagued with nightmares of waking up with a swarm of the little bastards trying to eat me whenever I heard them screeching. I killed one and the others scattered.
A cough comes from the elf's cell again and he motions for the rat in my hand. I nodded and tossed the dead rat to him bracing myself for the smell once again. Strangely, the smell was not as awful as it had been before. After the hair burned away, an enticing aroma came from the carcass. The elf retrieved the burning body and seeing my expression smiled. He waited under the rat cooled a bit and, with some effort ripped the thing in two and tossed me half. The head and half the body hit the bars and I briefly wondered if I was really going to do this. It did not look like a rat beyond the head with its teeth poking out, just a roasted piece of meat with bits of onion and vegetable tied to it. Hearing the elf tear into his portion and the pain in my stomach made up my mind. Grimly, I picked it up and took the tiniest bite imaginable out of the side. What little meat I tasted was glorious. I do not remember much other than thinking it was the best thing ever and realized I was crunching on the bones. Muffled laughter tore me away from the remains of the meal. The elf gestured to my hand as if to say "well?" and I gave a nod in thanks. I saw him hesitate, then pointing to himself and said the word "Soris."
I was puzzled for a moment. Did he mean to say thanks for the rat? I pointed to the bones my hand to see if that was the case. He shook his head and repeated himself along with the motions and I understood that Soris was his name. Dropping the bones, I mimed his actions.
"Quinn," I said, pointing to my chest, then pointing at him, "Soris" I said trying out the word slowly. He nodded with a smile and at even at a distance showing bits of meat stuck in between his teeth. He pointed to the bones I dropped outside the cell and murmured another word. I mimed a rat to make sure he meant the animal and not the bones themselves. He nodded and repeated the word.
"Rat," I mimicked and received another nod and a smile. Until he fell asleep, Soris pointed to items around our cells, that we could see and tell me how to say them in his language. I do not know why he decided to teach me, but it was nice to have someone to distract me from everything. I doubt any of us would be getting out anytime soon, but now I had hope. Focusing, I watched Soris indicated with his hand and spoke the words for hand, fingers, and counted them. At least I hoped he was. The language was odd and will likely take me a few times, no doubt, to get the words and meanings right.
A/N: Chapter 3 should be up soon. Slowly but surely making my way to Chapter 6 which is what everyone has been waiting on for months. Don't worry. Its coming. Please let me know if there are any glaring errors that I need to fix. Thanks!
