The softest patter makes its way towards us, had it not been for the click I would have instantly disregarded the newcomer as a rodent and tried to get back to resting. A slow creak of wood against wood, the gentle sweeping of many somethings against the floor, the slight sway of fabric in the still air.
I lay curled up on a relatively clear section of floor off to one side. Around me, my companions continue their snores or light breathing as they remain undisturbed in their slumber. I raise my head from my palm slightly as a dark figure comes into view, a black blur dancing and warping through my half-closed eyes.
“AAAAHH!” a young voice cries out, as the bars rattle.
I awaken fully now, jumping to my feet to find Orrian rising to his with a fistful of cloth in one hand. He pulls his arm backwards, yanking Damion forwards so that he pressed into the barrier between us. Damion’s cheek collides with the metal with a startling slap and he cries out in pain. With his target closer, Orrian briefly let’s go of the boy to get a firmer grip, holding him in position as I near the front of the cell.
“Get off me!” Damion yells, around us people are beginning to wake at the commotion.
“Not until you agree to help us,” Orrian growls.
“I can’t!” cries Damion.
“Yes, you can,” I say, stepping forwards so that he may get a better view. Again, I know that he recognises me, his eyes scan the marks on my face before settling on my own.
“Let me go,” he pleads.
“You heard what he said,” I answer. “We’re not letting you go until you help us.”
“I can’t help you!” he yells, his voice cracking under the strain.
“Yes, you can, we just need you to unlock the doors,” I say. Damion squirms in Orrian’s grip.
“They wouldn’t give me the keys! I can’t unlock the doors!” he reveals. Of course, they wouldn’t give him the keys, I should have realised it would be foolish to expect the colony to entrust their prisoners with a mere slave.
“Well, who can?” I ask, trying to keep my voice calm and monotonous. It works, already Damion’s breathing is getting steadier and he has begun to reign in his panic.
“Halden. Halden can open them,” Damion answers quickly.
“Can’t you steal the keys off him?” Orrian interjects.
“No! He always keeps them right next to him,” Damion says, immediately shrugging off the suggestion. “Besides, why would I?”
“Why would you?!” Orrian repeats heatedly. His intensity leads to Damion struggling backwards, his efforts are useless however because, much like the rods between us, Orrian’s unyielding grip is like iron.
“We could help you,” I answer, before Orrian’s ferocity can lead us into trouble. Even still, Damion nervously looks over at the young king, squirming once more.
“How?” Damion scoffs.
“If we get out of here, we could take you with us. We could take you home,” I offer. I feel bad for using the burnt remains of Avlym in my promise, but I’ll have time to feel guilty if we get out of here.
“You won’t make it out of here!” Damion cries exasperated.
“We could if you help us,” I say.
“No. You couldn’t,” Damion argues, “there are too many of them. They’ll catch us! They’ll kill me! It won’t work!”
“Damion, if anyone can escape this place it’s these people. Isn’t it worth the risk? You could have your life back, your freedom!” I say, hoping that the tribespeople still look impressive enough to enforce my assurances.
Damion remains silent, his eyes flicking between my calm, and hopefully friendly, face, and Orrian’s. The forest king is glaring at him with such intense focus that I almost expect him to spontaneously combust and add to the pile of ash getting smeared across the floor.
“Is this really how you want to live? Serving them for the rest of your life? What do you think will happen when they don’t need you anymore, think they’ll care for you and make you one of them?” I say.
“What if we die?” he croaks, his low voice emitting a curiously childish tone.
“Then we die free. No more slavery, no more prisoners. We die out there as ourselves,” I answer, hoping that I’m not misreading the hopeful signals emanating from him.
Damion is quiet for a long time. Nobody is asleep anymore and I get the feeling that they’re all watching, or at least listening, as our last chance rests on the hopes of the boy before their king.
“Ok,” Damion answers with finality. He whispers the word as if speaking his betrayal aloud may bring immediate damnation upon him.
As soon as the words escape his lips, Orrian releases Damion from his grasp. Damion takes a step back from the bars, wearily staying out of arm’s reach.
Try as I may, I cannot restrain myself as my mouth widens, curling upwards. Damion’s on board, we’re really doing it, we’re going to get out of here. But we’re not free yet, which I’m reminded as soon as I look around the bare walls for an outlet for my joy.
Those around us that chased Damion out of this dungeon with their anger only a few hours ago now hail him from within their cells. The praise seems to make him more nervous as he struggles to be caught up in their attitude, I doubt he’s ever been held with such high regard since being brought behind the colony’s defences.
“Thank you,” I begin, ready to update him on the plan that is slowly introducing itself to
