Chapter 8

Cain grunted as he was thrown to the hard floor of the cell he had woken up in that morning. His body ached and his breathing was hard, but he was able to climb to his feet and stagger over towards the hard slab that could barely be classified as a bed. Collapsing on it, out of breath, he leaned back against the cold cement wall.

The gate to the cell opened again a few moments later, and Krystal appeared; she shot a hateful glance at the guard before slipping inside of the caged room and over towards Cain. "What did you tell them?" She demanded. The purple-haired healer was a bit put off at the soldier's disheveled appearance; he had a black eye forming, and fresh cuts and bruises littered his bare torso.

Raising his gaze to meet the others', Cain let out a short, chiding laugh. "Nothing," he spat bitterly; the harshness wasn't aimed at Krystal herself, but rather at the situation. "I'd rather die than betray my country."

Frowning, Krystal used a damp cloth she had brought with her to wipe away the fresh drips of blood. "Don't let them hear you say that," she murmured. Using a dribble of magic, she sent sparks floating across the injured man's torso, slowly closing the wounds.

Cain winced, pulling away from Krystal slightly. His ripped flesh was tender, but after a moment, he relaxed. The sparks seeped into his skin and sent sweet relief through his aching body. Letting out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding, he stared at Krystal with a bit of curiosity. "You're more than just a prisoner here, aren't you?"

Narrowing her eyes, Krystal hesitated before answering. "I might as well be," she answered angrily. "I take care of the injured soldiers like yourself that are unfortunate enough to end up in these cells." Staring down at the ground, she sighed. "The last one other than you just passed away this morning, beaten to death during interrogation. Careless work from heartless men." Gritting her teeth, she stood up from where she had been kneeling.

The red-haired cavalier gulped. Today had only been day one, and he had come to terms with the fact that he'd gotten off easy. Rubbing the back of his neck, and wanting to distract himself from the dread of the next day, he asked Krystal a couple questions about herself and her past.

They spent the next couple hours just talking; reminiscing about stories with other friends, exchanging battle stories, personal things. Suddenly, Krystal asked a question that caught Cain off guard.

"You've mentioned fondly of this Abel fellow quite a few times," she pointed out in a curious tone. "What is he to you?"

Cain felt color rush to his face; many of his stories had revolved around his friend. "Well, um," he stammered, not sure how to phrase it. "He… is my best friend." He spoke in the present tense, mentally denying the thought of Abel's death once more. "We've spent so much time together I guess, well, I feel a bit lost without him around." Cain couldn't bring himself to meet Krystal's gaze, and he stared down at his feet instead.

The healer stared at him with sympathetic eyes. "I'm sure he's searching for you right now," she spoke in an attempt to reassure the shaken soldier.

"Y-yeah…" He stammered, biting down on his lip. An awkward silence rose between the two, and Cain was the one to break it after a few moments. "Maybe it's best if we went to sleep now. It's late."

Krystal was surprised at his sudden change in tone and attitude, but she sighed. Speaking about Abel must have rubbed a sore spot in Cain's memory, and she regretted mentioning the topic. "You certainly need the rest." Getting to her feet, she wished him a good night before knocking on the metal bars to let the guard know to let her out.

Laying down on the bed in the now-empty room, Cain wondered if it was a good idea to send Krystal away. His mind was full with thoughts of Abel and the others; were they looking for him? Was Abel even still alive, or was his dream really a memory? Cain let out a groan as his head pounded, and he rubbed his temples. He didn't get much sleep that night.


Crack!

A loud cry of pain escaped Cain's lips as the leathery end of a whip sliced across his back. About half an hour ago he had been ripped from the confines of his cell and dragged to a rock quarry. Old bloodstains littered the ground, from past prisoners who had suffered the same punishment that Cain was currently receiving. The red-haired soldier gritted his teeth; he hadn't wanted to give the guards the satisfaction of hearing him cry out, but he couldn't help it. Kneeling, he hung his head, staring at the ground as he endured the pain.

One of the guards approached Cain from the front and grabbed him by the chin, yanking his head upwards and forcing him to look into his face. "Come on already, you worthless mongrel," he snarled, spit flying from his mouth as he yelled. "Talk!"

Cain smirked, his narrowed eyes staring hard at the guard. "Never." His voice was low and defiant, and he bared his teeth. With ropes binding his wrists together, he couldn't move his arms, but he clenched his hands into fists.

"I'll enjoy wiping that smile off your face," the heavyset man growled. He raised a fist and connected it with Cain's cheek, punching him hard enough to nearly knock him over. Cain grunted and coughed roughly; a bit of pink liquid, drool mixed with blood, seeped from the edge of his mouth.

Before he had time to recover from the punch, the whip was at his back again, carving long, red lines into his flesh again and again. Droplets of blood seeped from the openings and dripped down his back. The lashes stopped after a minute, but there was no relief to be had; the pain was immense, and Cain was dizzy from the blood loss.

The same guard approached him again and yanked his head upwards by his hair. "I'll ask you one more time, mutt," he growled. "Where is that cowardly prince and your little rebel group hiding?"

Cain struggled against the pressure of his hair being pulled. He was out of breath, but managed to find enough air to respond to the question.

"Up your ass."

Snarling in annoyance, the guard threw Cain downwards, smashing his head hard against the ground. The force of the blow was enough to knock him out cold, and he lay unmoving. The irritated guard gave him a rough kick in the side for good measure.

"Get out of the way, you bastard!" Suddenly, the guard himself was shoved aside. Krystal had heard the cries coming from the quarry, and knew it could only be one thing. As she spotted Cain on the ground with his eyes closed, and covered in blood, she felt her heart skip a beat. Could they have killed him so easily, so soon? Kneeling, she placed a finger to his neck and searched until she found a pulse. With a sigh of relief, she stood again, glaring at the guards that had committed the act. "What the hell is wrong with you?" she accused them.

They exchanged glances amongst one another, not sure how to react to the angry healer. One of the guards finally spoke up, and answered in a husky, dull voice. "We were uh, just following the orders." He shrugged, and the other guards murmured in agreement.

The outraged healer opened her mouth to give the guards a piece of her mind when suddenly, a loud voice spoke out from behind her.

"Take the prisoner back to his cell."

Krystal felt a chill run down her spine, and she slowly turned around to face the source of the voice. "What do you want, Jiol?" She made an effort to keep the fear out of her voice. Her eyes shone defiantly, but she couldn't stop herself from taking a small step backwards. As strong-willed as she was, the knowledge of being absolutely powerless against Jiol scared her.

As the guards from the quarry collected Cain's unconscious body to drag him away, one of Jiol's two bodyguards sneakily moved behind Krystal, cutting off her only escape route if she were to run. The king let out a short laugh, and smiled sickeningly. "Follow." It was a rude, one-word command, spoken as if he had been talking to a dog. With no other choice but to comply, the purple-haired woman grit her teeth as she followed the tyrant, guards flanking her on both sides.

She was led down a long, musty corridor. At the end of it was a large metal door, and Jiol stopped short in front of it; Krystal almost crashed into the guard in front of her. "Watch it," she mumbled grumpily. "Hey!" She let out a startled yell as she was yanked forward by the king who had turned around and roughly grabbed her by the arm. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead. She didn't know what was behind that door, but all her instincts told her to stay away from it, and dread twisted in her stomach.

Unfortunately, she had no means of escape, and she could do nothing as Jiol wrenched open the door and thrust her inside of the room. The door slammed shut behind her; the harsh metal clang raised the hair on the back of her neck. The musty room was very dim, and Krystal squinted, unable to recognize any of the blob-like shapes. Her heart pounded in her chest, but she stayed where she was, stiff with fear.

Suddenly, out of the darkness, two wrinkled, leathery grey hands appeared, a large orb resting in their large palms. Light began to squeeze out of the shimmery orb, illuminating the disturbing face of the hooded figure that stood close to her. She recognized him immediately, and her heart felt as if it was about to beat out of her chest. Taking another step away, her back hit the cold metal door. Holding the glowing orb out, the cloaked figure moved closer and closer, slipping across the ground as silently as if he had been floating.

Krystal began to scream.