Nightmares

Zane pored over the map from where he sat at the table in the center of the room. "It makes no sense," he said. "Aside from the writing about the sweet Adam's ale, there are no other marks on this map. There's no indication anywhere that the swords are even on the island."

"He's right," Lloyd said. "For all we know, your blades could be in the heart of Torchfire Mountain. Without a clear path, we could traipse all over the country for months and not come any closer to rescuing Kai."

Cole sat on his cot, sword unsheathed on his lap. In his hands he held a cloth and whetstone. "We don't have months," he said. "Kai is strong, but no one resists the Overlord for long. I'm giving him five days before he loses his will to fight. Another three days after that, and he might even refuse to escape with us."

Jay wrapped his blanket tighter around himself and sank to the floor. His face was pale in the white light of the lantern. "What could the Overlord possibly do that would break Kai's will to live over the course of a week?" He asked, disbelieving.

Cole slid the whetstone over the edge of his blade with a low hiss. "Lots," he replied. "As Kozu's assistant, I was forced to do most of the dirty work in the dungeons. The women never lasted longer than three days."

"But Kai isn't a woman," Lloyd argued. "He's a lot stronger, and I have faith in him. He won't give up on us."

Cole grunted. "Sure, kid," he said as he flipped the blade over and began to sharpen the other side. "It must be nice, having that much trust and confidence in your companions."

"So you're saying that you don't trust anyone?" Lloyd pressed.

Cole stiffened. "No," he said. "Not in many years. Trust, confidence, they are brittle things. Thin ice."

Zane looked up from the map and shot Cole an astute glare. "But friendship is the-"

Cole cut in angrily. "Friendship is the salve that eases the brittle texture," he snapped. "Quit feeding me your disillusions."

"Ah," Zane sat upright with a smile. "So you do remember that conversation."

Cole used his rag to polish the sharpened blade. "And do you remember how I punched your face directly afterward?" He asked. "Keep your tongue in your mouth, prisoner."

The Nindroid jabbed a finger into the sepia ocean of his map. "Why do you still call me that?" He asked. "We're teammates, not subordinates. I would appreciate being treated as such."

Cole's lips twisted into a strange grin as he lifted his blade and inspected it in the dim light. "Subordinate," he said softly. "I like it. I'll have to use that one more often." He swung his arm, pointing the tip in Jay's direction. "Get me some wine, subordinate."

Zane frowned. "Wine?" He repeated. "At this time of night, when we should all be sleeping?"

Cole sheathed his sword with a nod. "Exactly," he said. "I need at least one glass before I can even think about resting. Kai knew this already, of course. I made him pour me two glasses each night. I tell you; he was the most annoying little pest. I doubt that I would have survived without those blessed bottles."

Zane turned to Jay and shook his head. "You don't have to do it," he said.

"And you have no say in the matter," Cole argued. "Subordinates, line up for punishment." Although his face was stern, there was a faint sparkle that made his eyes seem brighter than before.

Jay stood up and shrugged off his blanket. "I don't mind, Zane," he said. "I have nothing else to do."

The Northern nobleman dropped his chin into his palm and sighed inwardly. There you go again, Jay, he thought. Stop being so servile. It's not healthy.

"Good," Cole said. "And after that, go sit outside. You have first watch."

Jay reached into a crate for one of the wines and pulled the cork free with the help of a device stored beside the bottles. "Yes sir," he said as he filled a small cup. "I'll wake you up for the next shift in two hours."

Cole accepted the glass of deep burgundy wine with a nod. "No, Zane can go after you," he said. "Me next, then Lloyd can do the predawn shift."

The prince pumped his fist. "I'm last," he cheered. "I won't have to wake up in the middle of the night."

"No," Cole said as he tipped the glass. "But since it'll be close to sunup, you'll be making breakfast."

Lloyd's face fell after that, making Cole snort loudly in his amusement.

Jay grabbed his blanket from where it had fallen and went for the entrance of the cave. "G'night," he said cheerfully. "See you in two hours, Zane."

Zane groaned and slid his hand up to his forehead. Jay, he thought. If I didn't know any better, I would have assumed that you had been born into the lower class instead of the upper. He'd have to confront the thief sooner or later, but for now, he would have to just grin and bear with this unprincipled hierarchy.

Plink.

Kai awakened to the steady throb of his left temple. That was probably where he'd hit his head earlier.

Plink.

How long had he been unconscious? He wasn't sure that it even mattered.

Plink.

The room was pitch black. Judging by the metallic echo that bounced around his ears when he tried to move his arms, he was probably shackled to the floor.

Plink.

Probably. He was too numb from cold to properly evaluate anything that had to do with his senses.

Plink.

What was with that noise? Kai tried to move his head, but found that he couldn't. He was lying prone on the floor, back pressed to the...stone? Wood?

Plink.

Kai moaned softly. The sound seemed intent on making him go insane. It was so slow and steady...and it was infuriating.

Nobody cares, Kai.

Plink.

His face was wet. Why was his face wet?

Plink.

Ah. Okay. It was water, then.

Plink.

What was it supposed to do? Was the Overlord trying to make him irate?

Plink.

If that was the case, he was certainly succeeding.

Plink.

{The air was hot and dry. Bright orange tongues of flame reflected off of the stone walls.

"Via, please. I-I'm sorry." His words were voiced in quiet desperation.

She would not make eye contact with him as the men grabbed the shackles dangling from the ceiling and locked them onto her wrists, her ankles. Her hollow green eyes looked everywhere but at his face. She was nearly naked, and he could see the bruises and cuts all up her legs, her arms, her sides. Clear evidence of the cruelty dealt out in these underground prisons.

"Via..." He tried to swallow away the dryness in his parched throat, but had no luck. "Hey, sis... Please look at me."

Of course she didn't. He was the reason she was there. He was the reason mother had died. He was also the reason that their father sat alone and brokenhearted in a cell across the compound, waiting for his own terrible fate to find him.

"Even if you can't forgive me, I still love you..." He whispered softly as the stone warriors used their mechanics to lift her chains into the air.

He was strung up beside her moments later, and the chains slid across the ceiling on long tracks toward Chamber Two.

After the wheels had come to a grinding stop, the stone men lowered them toward the fires. Her chains had been lowered several more feet for her than they had for him, and the tall flames below them accepted her eagerly.

Via...

His skin felt numb. Was he burning, too? Maybe. He was in too much shock to notice or care.

...Viola...

His sweet, simple Via... Her screams almost drowned out his strangled cries for them to stop this madness.

...please...

His mother was one thing, but his sister? His Viola? She was too young for what these men had put her through. So many inhumane, cruel acts had left her without any will to live.

His spirit died with his sister that night. Unloved, guilty, And unforgiven, he watched as the blackening body below him finally stopped struggling and fell limp in the red hot chains. The suffocating smell of burnt flesh filled his nostrils.

She had died without even acknowledging her brother's presence in the room. There was no kindness, as his mother had shown him two days ago on the night of her passing. Viola showed no compassion for him. No love. Only deep, dark emptiness.

The same cold, hard constitution had taken up residence in his heart, and he embraced it eagerly.

He was done fighting. Done trying to be the 'good guy.' They never won, anyway. Even King Garmadon was unable to stop what happened every day in these evil prisons. Did he even care? Something deep down in Cole's heart said that no, he did not.

He was alone on an island of hatred, and that was that. His own mistakes had put him here, and he deserved everything that had happened.

I'm so sorry, sister.}

Cole jerked upright with a gulping gasp. His body was slick with sweat. He choked loudly on the saliva that had gathered in his mouth, hacking with all the power he could give it.

Then he remembered that he wasn't alone in the room, and he clamped his jaw painfully as his chest continued to heave. His shirt was soaked with sweat. Ugh. He hated that feeling. It was like drowning, just with less water.

Without any regard for who might be watching, he unbuttoned his tunic and tossed it aside with a disgusted grunt.

Now separated from the suffocating warmth of his shirt, he shivered as he used his blanket to wipe his face dry. His hands were shaking uncontrollably, and his mind was going in circles a hundred miles a minute. Not enough wine, he thought. I should have gotten myself a third glass. Then I might have slept through the nightmare instead of waking up like this. He wrapped the blanket self-consciously around his bare torso and peered into the darkness. Thankfully, everyone had slept through his episode.

He stood up slowly and tossed his shirt into the pool of water to soak. He'd take care of that later. But for now, he needed a clean shirt and a couple of moments to himself outside in the open air.

"Cole?" A voice echoed through the cavern, making him start. "Are you all right?"

Zane. Cole stood up and scurried over to the crates. He's on guard right now, of course.

"I heard you coughing," Zane spoke up again from his seat outside of the cave entrance. "Don't ignore me, please. Come out here. I want to talk."

Cole felt around in the dark- it was a new moon tonight, and the stars seemed particularly dim- for the lid to one of the boxes. "Give me a minute," he said softly as he pried the top of a crate free and felt around inside. The books and picture frames that had been on his nightstand before Kai came were stored neatly inside.

Nope. He tried the next one, feeling around carefully with his shaky hands. Where did I put my clothing? He wondered. His fingers brushed against cool wood. He froze. It was the violin, of course. An overwhelming desire overcame him as his fingers wrapped around the neck of the instrument.

He recoiled. Zane was outside. He couldn't be seen with his violin. What would they say if they heard it?

With that, he shut the lid and went on to the next crate. "There we go," he mumbled as his hands gripped soft fabric. He pulled out a shirt and slid his arms in, leaving it unbuttoned so that he could cool off faster, and climbed out of the cave entrance.

The sky was dark. Very few stars twinkled, but those that did faintly illuminated Zane's still form sitting on the rocks above him.

"Is something the matter, Cole?" Zane broke the silence with his gentle voice.

Cole carefully climbed the rocks and perched himself next to Zane. "Not at all," he lied. "Why do you ask?"

Zane turned his head and stared at Cole. His eyes glowed a faint green. "Because you were shouting," he said. "Did you have a nightmare?"

I shouted? Cole thought anxiously. He folded his hands on his lap in an attempt to look indifferent. "I was drinking a cup of water as I walked back to my cot," he said. "I stepped on a rock, shouted in pain, and choked."

Zane blinked. "There aren't any rocks on the floor in there," he said. "And you're wearing boots."

Was he? Cole looked down at his feet, holding back a grimace. Yes, he was still wearing his boots.

"Stop lying, please," Zane said. "Can't you trust me?"

Cole floundered for a moment. "I..." Could he trust Zane?

Trust is brittle, the voice in his mind warned him. Fragile, and not worth the pain it brings.

But... He struggled with the voice for a long second. I need to trust somebody.

"...Via," Cole exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding in.

"Who?" Zane pressed him gently.

"Viola," Cole reluctantly elaborated. "She was my sister. I always called her Via."

"Hmm," Zane grunted. "This is the one who passed six months ago?"

"Almost seven months, now," Cole sighed. "She was the second one to go. My mom was first. I lost my dad last."

"Oh," Zane responded. "What did Overlord do to them?"

"What's with all these personal questions?" Cole growled. "Can we just say that they died and leave it at that?"

"No," Zane answered. "But...I'm sorry. You're partially right. Let's leave out the gory details. Can you tell me about Via? What was she like?"

Cole suddenly felt defensive. "Viola," he corrected bitterly.

"Of course," Zane turned his head and surveyed his surroundings with a quick sweep. Even while keeping up a conversation, he was very attentive to his duties. "Only you called her Via. I'm sorry."

"I'll let it slide this time."

"Thank you." Zane shifted his eyes back to Cole. "So can you tell me about her? How old was she? What did she look like?"

Cole crossed his legs, shirt fluttering in the muggy breeze. It was probably going to rain soon. "She was seventeen," he said finally. "She had my mom's red hair and my dad's green eyes. Since she had dad's wide build, no one ever thought of her as exceptionally pretty."

Cole looked away, ashamed of the contorted, distressed expressions that colored his face. "But she never minded," he continued quietly. "She was always smiling. Always coming up with these jokes to make us laugh, always playing her..." He faltered. "Her violin."

Zane seemed to perk up when he heard this. "She played the violin?" He asked.

"Yes," Cole felt his heart tear a little bit. "And about a thousand other instruments."

"All at once?" Zane whistled. "She must have been talented."

Cole decided that this joke hardly merited a scoff, considering his current mood. "Did I answer your questions?" He asked. "You should go to sleep. I'm not tired, and-"

"No," Zane interrupted. "I'm not tired, either. And I want to talk some more."

Cole stood abruptly and whirled on Zane. "Well I don't want to talk," he said. "I want to be alone. So you either-"

Zane cut him off a second time with a low shushing noise.

"Stop shushing me!" Cole nearly shouted. "This is ridiculous. One minute, you're...trying..." He saw the look on Zane's face and hesitated. "What is it?"

Slowly, Zane lifted a hand and pointed into the darkness to his left. His greenish eyes were narrowed as he peered in the direction of his finger. "Down there," he whispered. "Something's coming this way."

As much as Cole tried, he could not manage to see through the pitch blackness. "How can you see this?" He asked quietly as he lowered himself to a crouch.

"Night vision," Zane breathed. The sound of a cracking branch sounded out loudly nearby. "What should we do?"

Cole breathed deeply and quietly through his mouth. "Does he see us?" He asked.

"If he doesn't see us, he heard us. You've been making a lot of noise."

Cole silently reprimanded himself for his lack of composure. "Then we lead him away from the cave," he said. "They can't know where our camp is."

"We run?" Zane slowly rose to his feet, both eyes open and on the silhouette he could ostensibly see plain as day.

An eagle screeched high above Cole's head. If there really are gurrah-kah out there, he prayed, we need one now.

"Yeah," he grabbed Zane's arm and pulled him down the steep incline. "We run."