12. Elara
12
ELARA
I sit in the dim confines of my cell, my back pressed against the cold stone wall. The silence is oppressive, broken only by the distant drip of water echoing through the tunnels. Time has blurred, measured only by the aching stiffness in my limbs and the gnawing hunger in my stomach. They have left me alone for what feels like hours. Until now, there’s only been silence.
The heavy clang of metal against rock jolts me upright. Approaching footsteps precede rough voices. I go to the door. Aching muscles protest as I wrap my fingers around the bars and pull myself up even as the sound of a cell door creaks. Two Urr’ki warriors, drag a limp figure between them.
I shift until I’m certain that it’s Ryatuv. My heart lurches to my throat, blurring my vision with tears. They toss the battered warrior to the floor without a care then step back. I inhale sharply. Even from here I can see that he is badly hurt. His scales are dull and streaked with fresh wounds. Blood, deep crimson against the tan, drips onto the stone floor. He groans, but doesn’t move.
“He won’t last long,” one of the guards chuckles.
“Probably not, but the Maulavi enjoy their sport. They’ll keep him alive as long it suits them,” the other smirks.
I clench my fists on the cold iron bars as the guards turn and leave. The echo of their footsteps fading into the distance. For a moment there is only silence. Then, a ragged breath. The Zmaj warrior stirs. I can’t see him, but I hear him moving.
“Hey,” I whisper. “Are you—?” I bite off the stupid question. Of course, he’s not okay. “Can you move?”
I hear him exhale, slowly, and it hitches as he lets the breath go. This is followed by more sounds of him moving out of sight.
“I am not broken,” he says. It’s soft but certain despite the fact I can hear the pain in his voice.
“Good,” I say, relief flickering through me.
His face appears behind the bars of the window into his cell. He studies me for a moment before shifting and looking both ways down the hallway.
“I did not think they would keep you alive,” he murmurs.
“Yeah, well. Lucky me.”
He gives a weak chuckle but grimaces, pressing one hand to the side of his head. A fresh line of blood seeps through his fingers. I swallow hard.
“We have to get out of here.”
“Escape?” he asks, his gaze sharpening and his eyes clearing.
“Yes.”
A pause. Then he nods, slowly.
“You have a plan?”
I chew my lip.
“Not exactly.”
“It will be okay,” he says after a moment. He rests his head on the bars, breathing heavily, and once again I hear the hitch in his breathing. “We need to watch, be aware, and be ready.”
Before I can reply, footsteps echo down the corridor. Both of us stiffen, our breaths syncing in quiet anticipation. An Urr’ki guard comes into view. He is carrying two trays of food and water, stopping just before our opposing doors.
Seeing us both looking through the bars he frowns and grunts, eyes narrowing with suspicion. He hooks a small stool with his foot and drags it closer, then sets one of the trays on it. Straightening he looks between the two doors then moves to the Zmaj’s. The keys rattle as he unhooks them from his belt.
The lock clicks, loud in the silence. My heart is hammering in anticipation. Is this it? Will the Zmaj act? My muscles spasm, and I drop hard onto my feet, pressing my hands to the cold door, trying to envision what’s happening based on sounds alone.
The doors of the prison are surprisingly quiet in stark contrast to how I expected them to be. Too many old Earth vids I guess, but though they’re quiet, they are not silent. A soft creak, a whisper as it moves air. I hold my breath, straining to hear exactly what is happening.
The stamp of boots on stone thunders in my ears. I close my eyes, letting imagination create images in my head of what’s happening. The guard entering the cell. The Zmaj, injured, but stronger than he’s letting on, waiting. Predatory. Judging his moment.
The guard growls something, I can’t hear what. Probably a curse. The tray clatters as he drops it to the ground. Silence, broken by the step of his boots. Did he turn his back? If so, it’s a mistake. A big one.
I grab the bars and pull up. Muscles protesting, but I need to see. I can’t leave this to imagination and hope. I need to know. Is this the moment? That need overrides the exhaustion in my muscles. I can’t miss this.
The Zmaj warrior moves fast, faster than he should be able to wounded as he is. With a guttural snarl, he surges forward, swiping the guard’s legs out from under him with his tail. The Urr’ki crashes to the ground. His head strikes the tray and it clatters across the floor.
The Zmaj pins the guard, his claws pressing against the warrior’s throat. The Urr’ki struggles, but his face contorts with something like shock, disbelief that he’s been bested.
The guard bares his teeth and growls, struggling to break free but the Zmaj presses his claws down, drawing the first blood.
“You’ll never make it out.”
“Keys,” the Zmaj growls low in his throat.
The Urr’ki gasps, his hand twitching toward his belt. My mouth is dry.
Kill him. We can’t leave him behind.
No. I can’t believe I thought that, but I did. How much has this place taken from me? What is wrong with me? I drop down, not wanting to see what happens next. I know the Zmaj will probably think nothing of taking an Urr’ki life, but what if it was Z’leni? He’s been kind to me and… and what?
The door across the way slams. I don’t hear a scream or anything else. Did he kill the Urr’ki? A moment later keys rattle then I hear different ones being tried until the lock on my door clicks at last and it swings open. The Zmaj is there, filling the door, backlit, he’s nothing but a looming shadow.
“Let’s go,” he says, stepping back and aside.
Trembling, I walk forward. A shiver races across my back. The door across the hall seems darker than it should. A sense of foreboding emanates from it and I don’t want to look. I can’t, knowing that on the other side of it lies the body of that guard. Does it matter that the guard would have killed either one of us without a second thought?
No. Not really. How am I any better than them if I become like them?
He takes my hand, gripping it tight as we slip out of the cell. The corridor looms before us, stretching into darkness. Our eyes lock and it feels as if his gaze sears into my heart and soul. As if he sees me in ways that no one ever has before. My mouth is dry as I convulsively tighten my grip on him.
“We must move,” he says, softly. “Quickly.”
“Yeah, do you?—”
Someone slams into the door of his cell. The Urr’ki guard appears in the barred window. Relief and fear mix inside me. The Zmaj’s head jerks to the sound and he growls then we run.
The air is thick, damp, the scent of stone and rust filling my lungs. The Zmaj stays close, his breathing ragged but determined. We twist through the tunnels, each turn a gamble, each step laced with the risk of discovery.
Then, a shadow moves ahead. I skid to a stop, heart slamming against my ribs. A figure steps forward, blocking our path.
Z’leni.
His dark eyes flick between me and the Zmaj, expression unreadable. But something is different this time. His stance is tense, his hands clenched at his sides as if he’s fighting something within himself.
“Z’leni—” I whisper, my pulse pounding.
He doesn’t move or draw his weapon. He looks from the Zmaj to me then back again. The pressure mounts in my head.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he says, breaking the silence at last.
Something in his voice sends a chill through me. The Zmaj tenses beside me, a low growl reverberating from his chest. I swallow hard.
“We’re leaving.”
Z’leni exhales slowly, his eyes locked onto mine. He blinks twice then shakes his head.
“You think it’s that simple?”
Taking a deep breath I hold it and take a step forward. The Zmaj keeps his grip on my hand but doesn’t stop me.
“Let us go,” I say, speaking softly. “Please.”
He doesn’t move. Instead, his gaze softens just barely.
“You don’t understand what you’re walking into,” he says.
“Then tell me,” I say, frustration flaring.
A pause. Then his expression hardens.
“I can’t.”
Behind us, distant shouts. More guards. Time is slipping away and with it our one chance of escape.
Z’leni’s jaw flexes, indecision flickering across his face. His eyes meet mine, something raw and conflicted swirling behind them. The way he looks at me makes my breath catch. There’s no mistaking it. A deep, almost painful pull, as if something inside him is breaking apart and reforming at once. Then, slowly, too slowly, he reaches for the blade at his side.
My breath hitches. No. Not like this. A moment stretches between us, heavy with choices that can’t be undone. Then, Z’leni’s voice cuts through the tunnel— sharp, commanding.
The footsteps behind us quicken. Reinforcements. The tunnel fills with movement, Urr’ki warriors closing in. My stomach drops. We’re trapped. I turn to Z’leni, betrayal tightening my throat.
“Why?”
“Because it’s my duty,” he says, his expression darkening but his voice wavers.
And in his eyes, there’s a different answer. A truth he refuses to speak. Before I can say another word, rough hands seize my arms, yanking me back. The Zmaj roars in fury, thrashing, but he’s outnumbered. Forced down and subdued.
The fight is over before it begins. And Z’leni watches, his face carved from stone. As they drag me away, I realize he hadn’t wanted to stop me. But he had.
And that is far, far worse.