Orrian’s hands are forced into chains just before he is shoved after the prince, they handle him roughly but don’t attempt to drag him again, letting him instead walk a step in front of them. Their huge frames quickly block Orrian from view, leaving us alone with Becker and the warden who has swiftly moved in to lock the door again.
Becker rotates to his side so that he can see both myself and my mother.
“Well? Aren’t you going to say thank you?” he asks my mother. His head turns to me in her silence. “She’s been so worried you know, I still can’t believe you left her.”
There is no blocking his words as they deal a blow to my gut. I know he’s just trying to get to me, eager to entice out that fiery beast in my veins, but his calculated cruelty still manages to cut deep.
“She even tried to attack me you know, threw away years of peaceful relations all because of your stupidity. Of course, once she got involved so did the rest of them,” Becker shakes his head in disappointment. “Our people have worked together for so long and you just went and ruined the whole thing.” Becker turns to my mother once again, she now stands defiantly on her feet. “I suppose you’ve told him what happened?”
“Of course, you left us with no choice,” Becker continues to me, taking my mother’s silence as confirmation. “I just hope you know that this is all on your shoulders.”
I try to deafen his words as they echo all my fears and worries. Some part of me knows that I am not the cause of all of this, that the colony are the ones to blame, but a much louder voice in my head submissively agrees with the sadistic man before me.
“This could have ended so differently, if only you’d all honoured our friendship. King Breyden sure was unhappy when he heard that you and Orrian had managed to slip away. But, now that he has the pretender, maybe he’ll let us have some quality time together and I can pass on some real justice for his displeasure. Or perhaps not, maybe I’ll just have to leave you all down here. No matter, nobody manages to last long
“Poor Halden here,” Becker pats the warden’s shoulder, the old man startles as if he had begun to nod off. His tongue darts once more between his lips as if they may have shrivelled up in the last few moments. “Well his memory is starting to suffer. You can’t blame the man he’s certainly put in his time. Anyhow, things round here can get plenty more unpleasant when he forgets to make his trips down here. Let’s just say that when the lights go out and the food stops coming, things can get a little more feral.”
Is that what happened to all these bodies surrounding us? Did this hunchbacked warden before me simply choose to leave them by themselves for days on end until they tore each other apart? After seeing the loyalty in the tribe, I would never believe them capable of such a thing, but then again, this far underground in the confined dark I have no idea how animalistic they may turn. These are a people accustomed to the outdoors, they live and thrive among the trees, I have no idea how they’ll cope in such a different setting. I have already noticed a few of them pacing their cells, unable to keep still. They bang on the bars whilst others rock, breathing slowly as they try to overcome the crushing pressure of the walls around them.
“Goodbye for now, Dale. Perhaps I’ll see you again, or perhaps not,” says Becker, a merciless grin curling up his vile cheeks. Becker heads away from us back down the hallway with Warden Halden scraping his feet at his heels.
“Don’t listen to him,” my mother starts. “They’re all sick, nobody blames you for what happened-”
My mother keeps speaking but her comforting words fade into the background, the hooded figure from before is back. Standing tall they may be slightly taller than myself, but their hunched frame brings them beneath my chin. The same broom drags behind them as they hurry towards the lantern that Orrian broke just outside of our cell.
As the cleaner finishes gathering their pile of wax and glass shards they stop, head bowed in my direction. Time slows as they straighten, their eyes raising as a face begins to appear from beneath the shadow of their cowl.
The face of one of my long-lost childhood tormentors stares back at me. He has matured several years since I last saw him but there is no confusing the trademark scar stretching over one of his eyes. The wound is no longer alone, his skin is tinted yellow and hangs with many deep, unnatural grooves. His nose is off, twisting into a different direction halfway down, and the side of his upper lip is bloated. Despite his injuries the different paths they’ve taken, he still resembles a striking similarity to one particular village drunk.
Recognition flashes across his eyes before he hurriedly drags the broken remains after him back down the hallway.
“Dale? What is it?” my mother asks, finally aware that I had been ignoring her consolations.
“That guy with the broom,” I answer, my mouth moving by itself as my mind struggles with the shock. “It’s Damion.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“Tharrin, I’m sure he’s fine,” says Astera from the next cell over.
“Did you see them though? Did the other raft definitely get out?” asks Tharrin, his now boyish voice reminding me of the true age of the young warrior.
“No, I didn’t, but the archers couldn’t reach them, and Jaq will look after them. If they’re not here, then I’m sure they’re still safe,” assures Astera.
“Unless-” Tharrin starts.
“No. Tharrin, stop it. Don’t think
