65. Chapter 65
CHAPTER 65
Rawn
R awn lost count of the number of deaths he witnessed beneath the Blood Keep. Prisoners died by torture, starvation, or infection. The worst deaths came from the Bloodhounds patrolling the tunnels. Sometimes, the prison guards would leave a cell unlocked merely to feed the beasts, or perhaps out of boredom. They enjoyed it when prisoners attempted to make a run for it.
They always tried.
They never succeeded.
Rawn listened to screams in the dark of another failed attempted. Their pleas to be saved cut off at the sound of flesh tearing and the wet crunch of bone. He was glad of the dark, so he didn’t have to see the Bloodhounds fight over a mauled corpse. But the sounds and the smell, nothing could disguise that.
With no sun or moon, Rawn could only mark the days when they dragged him out of his cell for questioning. Grod experimented with different ways to torture him. His favorite method was to shear pieces of flesh from Rawn’s back, then dousing him in vinegar.
No matter how much he denied knowing nothing about a key, the pain didn’t stop.
It lived in his bones, in the pores of his skin, and in every breath of his lungs.
Rawn had no more strength left as he was brought to Grod again. How many times had it been? How many days?
He lost count when he had stopped speaking. He couldn’t when his throat was raw from screaming and so dry from dehydration, it may as well have been filled with sand.
The act of nobility had been ingrained in him. It was the foundation of his House, But he didn’t feel noble now. He felt resentful. Remorseful. And with it a horrid regret because there was no escaping this place. He only found reprieve when he could sleep and dream of his family.
They should have come first.
If he had put them first, he wouldn’t be here now.
Grod wandered to a stone table assorted with rusted weapons. The guards didn’t attach Rawn’s manacles to the long chain attached to the pulley on the ceiling this time. Instead they hauled him over to a barrel filled with murky water reflecting his gaunt face.
“I think he needs a drink,” Grod commented. “He looks thirsty.”
A guard violently snatched a handful of hair at the base of Rawn’s skull and shoved his head inside. The filthy water rushed up his nose and mouth. He gagged on it, spasming against the barrel. Panic and fear wrangled his heart as his lungs burned for air. The guards held him there. His strength slowly drained and his consciousness began to slip away.
The sun was warm his face, the trilling of water soothing to his ears as he carved another piece of wood for his boy. It was a beautiful day by a quiet creek.
“What do you think? Will he like it?”
Fair paused his grazing and neighed in approval, Rawn smiled down at the birth token for his son. Raiden would be a year old soon.
They yanked Rawn’s head out of the water and he sucked in ragged gulps of air.
Grod hissed in his ear, “Where is the key?”
They shoved him back down before he could gasp a full breath.
Rawn sighed at the stack of books and scrolls set on the table. He was sorrowed by rows and rows of shelves that filled the many floors of the Liánhuā Library. Stacked with so much knowledge, he would need a lifetime to read them all.
His research had made very little progress in ten years. He was beginning to fear he would never find it.
The Princess of Xián Jīng slid into the chair across from him. She wore a fine silk robe in the deepest of red, embroidered with flying dragons and lotus flowers. The sleeves slid down her arms as she linked her fingers together, resting her dainty chin on them. “Why do you continue to search for the blades, Lord Norrlen? You will find no answers here.”
Rawn stood and bowed his head. “Princess, if you wish to revoke my access to your library, I will readily depart.”
The gold combs pinning up her black hair glittered in the torchlight as she canted her head. “Sit, please. I merely wonder to your motivation. You have made every effort and have found nothing. Could your king not accept this?”
He sighed, making the dust collected on the old scrolls waft into the air. “Perhaps, princess, but I cannot. By oath, I swore never to return home until I have the blade my hands.”
“Would that be so terrible?”
“To do so, would be to forsake my wife and son who await my return. I can think of nothing more terrible than that.”
“Even if continuing this pursuit may end in your death?”
“Even then.”
The shock of the unfamiliar memory pulled Rawn back to reality. He had met the princess of Xián Jīng?
But the lack of air stole all focus. They let him up again, and he drew in ragged mouthfuls of air. His lungs burned with the effort, and he vomited all the foul water he had swallowed.
“Answer, filthy elf, or you will lose more than air.”
“I …” Rawn rasped. “…know nothing.”
“Lies! We know you are hiding the truth!” Grod lifted a club and beat him across the back of his head. Stars flashed in his vision and Rawn dropped on the ground, ringing piercing his ears. “The key, damn you! Give us the key!”
The club smashed into his skull.
The princess’s warm eyes saddened with a small smile. Reaching into her robes, she placed something on the table with a faint clink. “You will find what you need on the last floor, in the restricted section. I have approved your access there.”
Then she rose from the table and strode away.
“I don’t understand,” Rawn said to her retreating back. “Why share this with me now?”
She paused and gave him a small smile over her shoulder. “Perhaps I can respect a father who go to the ends of the earth for his family.”
His eyes watered and he deeply bowed. “Thank you, princess.”
“Lord Norrlen, my friends call me Daiyu.”
A foot rammed into Rawn’s stomach. He gasped at the breath torn from him and he choked on bile and sand.
“Enough.” A sharp voice barked. There was a sudden thud and Grod hit the ground next to him. “If you kill him before we get any answers, I will lop off your head.”
Grod scrambled back, cowering into a low bow. “F-forgive me, Your Highness.”
Rawn’s vision skewed as the sound of his heartbeat thudded in his ears, but he recognized the red prince, nonetheless.
Anon’s mouth twisted with a snide smirk as he looked over the damage done to his body. “I am surprised you’re alive, though you may not have long. You reek of rot.” He pressed a finger into the hole burned into Rawn’s thigh yesterday. He hissed, jerking against his chains. “You bear a strong will to live, it would seem, but everyone breaks beneath the Blood Keep, Norrlen. Eventually.” Anon’s red cape flared out as he marched for the door. “Put him with the others. He is not to be questioned again until I say. The king and that usurper past the wall are negotiating.”
Usurper?
Rawn closed his eyes. He dared to hope that meant King Leif was bargaining for his release. Help was coming. A shudder sank through Rawn’s chest, and he had the urge to both laugh and cry.
“Don’t think you’re safe,” Grod growled, jabbing Rawn’s chin with his club. “I’ll have you strung up here again soon, along with that pretty wife of yours.” He bared his yellowed teeth in a sinister grin. “You will watch as I have my way with her before I split her in two.”
A dark rage surged in Rawn’s veins like poison. He snatched the club and rammed it into his stomach. Grod’s eyes bulged out, wheezing for hair. Grabbing his neck, Rawn shoved him into the barrel. The hunched warden clawed at him frantically, sloshing water everywhere.
Rawn held him there with some primitive strength that had surfaced from the dark pit of his soul. He would slaughter the elf for nothing else but saying those words.
But guards stormed in, and a club struck the back of Rawn’s skull again.
He drifted in and out of consciousness. The sound of disturbed dirt followed him as they dragged him down an unfamiliar tunnel. He only knew it was different because the stench of decay and Bloodhounds droppings weren’t as strong here.
The beasts followed them, though. Their growls and hot breath on his neck.
Voices of prisoners murmured as Rawn was hauled past their cells. The guards dumped him in front of another.
“Away from the door!” Grod bellowed. The Bloodhounds snarled and a shadowed figure inside moved back as he took out a set of keys and opened it. “Throw that sack of shit inside.”
The guards did so unceremoniously, and Rawn hit the cold ground with a ruthless thud. He laid there, trying to breathe. Pain radiated through the ache in his ribs and his skull. The cell clanged shut loudly, making him wince. Grod hawked a wad of spit, and it hit his cheek. Their laughter echoed in the tunnel until their footsteps faded away.
A voice surfaced from the dark. “I surely thought you were dead.”
Rawn managed a weak smile. “I thought the same of you.”
The single torch on the wall provided just enough light to illuminate Elon as he moved closer. He used his torn sleeve to wipe the spit from his face.
Rawn’s smile faded at the sight of the bloodied cloth over his left eye. “What did they do to you?”
“I can live with one eye. You got the worse of it.” He rolled Rawn on his side to examine his back and made a disapproving hum. “Your wounds are beginning to fester.”
Rawn suspected as much by the smell.
“Once sepsis is in the blood, death comes swift,” Elon said, moving toward the cell door. He reached through the bars and returned with something putrid. “Hold still.”
Rawn shuddered at the horrid sensation of something crawling over his back. “I am afraid to ask.”
“Maggots. They will eat away the rot.”
Nausea rolled through his empty stomach. “I suppose I should thank you...”
Elon moved back to sit against the wall and closed his remaining eye. “I am only delaying the inevitable. Elves come here to die.”
“A wise man knows when his time has ended. This is not where we die.”
Elon scoffed. “You are closer to death than I am, Lord Norrlen.”
“Yet I still have faith.” Rawn groaned as he laid flat on his stomach, tucking his arm under his head. He tried not to breath in scent of filth and urine. “I was given to understand my king has been in contact with yours. I believe they are negotiating my release. I will put in a petition to take you with us.”
This drew Elon to look at him again. “What?”
“We will leave this place.”
“You are a fool if you believe Altham will allow that, more so if you assume Greenwood would give sanctuary to a red elf. This crypt will sooner be our tomb.”
The declaration made Rawn’s hands shake but he curled them into fists. “I have a son, and you have two. When they were born we lost the recourse to concede defeat.”
They fell silent at the reminder.
Rawn didn’t know if Leif would grant Elon sanctuary, but after everything he sacrificed for his country, he could ask this of him. “You saved my life more than once. I owe you a debt.”
Elon studied him in the dark for a moment.
“You escaped this place once before. How?”
Elon’s one eye moved up to the ceiling of their cell. By the faint light, Rawn could barely distinguish a roughly carved out line as if had been chipped away with an axe. “Sylar was the one who broke the warding spell on the prison. He said for one of this magnitude, the runes must be placed in particular order to work. No flaw. No line out of place. He understood the fundamentals of magic in a way I didn’t.”
Well, of course. “Sylar had been an apprentice to become a Magi Master before he was taken…” Rawn murmured.
“We planned our escape on a day Grod was distracted questioning another. I stood guard as Sylar chipped away one of the runes in his cell with a rock, then the warding spell broke. With his magic, he broke out and we fled through the eastern tunnels to the waterways.” Elon looked past him to the bars. “But they learned from that mistake.”
Rawn followed his gaze. On the ceiling of the main tunnel, runes faintly glowed yellow. Out of their reach. “What about the keys to the cells? If I could?—”
Elon shook his head. “Grod never leaves them out of his sight. Short of removing the wards from the walls, these cells are also warded. As of now, there is no way out.”
The matter appeared bleak, and Rawn felt his strength wane. “It’s your prerogative to sit here and wait to die. But I will not join you.”
Elon low scoff floated through the dark. “If they are truly negotiating, that means Altham desires a trade. What would he trade you for?”
Rawn hadn’t a moment think about that until now and he was suddenly afraid. What would they trade him for?
“They must have brought you here for something,” Elon pressed.
“Altham wants a key…”
“A key?”
Rawn fell silent, thinking of the memory he had remembered during his torture. After Princess Daiyu had gone, he found what she left on the table. A small rectangular box made of ivory, carved with the design of a sprawling tree. No more than three inches wide and six inches tall. Inside on a bedding of red velvet, lay a bronze key split in two.
“Rawn, what key?”
“It’s a key to a door that should never be opened…” he said faintly, his pulse quickening as the words slipped from him. How did he know that? He sat up, his chest rising and falling with rapid breaths.
Elon grabbed his shoulders and made Rawn look at him. “Speak plainly. What door?”
“I know not.”
Whatever lucid facet had surfaced in Rawn’s memory it quickly swam away like a minnow into the depths of his mind. It was as though whatever he needed to remember had been purposely hidden beneath a veil.
But why and by whom?
Elon expelled a heavy breath, and his fingers tightened. “Where have you hidden the second half of the key?”
“I don’t remember…” He blinked at Elon and went still. “How do you know there are two halves of the key?”
Elon’s expression grew careful, and he moved back to his spot against the wall. “I overheard the guards talking.”
On the back of Elon’s hand was a fresh burn. The flesh was angry red and enflamed, but Rawn could distinguish very clearly the sigil of a maple leaf.
“They have placed us together for a reason, didn’t they?”
Elon said no more.
They sat in silence for the rest of the day, listening only to the wailing, snarls, and groans echoing through the prison. Both stiffened when the gate to their tunnel creaked open. It was followed by the shuffle of footsteps. They both moved back for the darkest corners of their cell, not wanting to draw any attention. A soft female whimper echoed in the dark and Elon’s head whipped up. Rawn’s heart raced faster, and they slowly turned to toward the cell door.
Gron appeared with a torch first. Then from the shadows, Anon came forward, gripping the arm of a she-elf. She wore a dark red dress and a circle of gold chains over her waves of long dark hair.
Elon inhaled a soft breath. “Graeae…”
“Elon…” Her amber eyes shone wet. “I’m sorry.”
Elon’s gaze moved past her to the figure lurking behind him and his teeth bared. “Damn you.”
Anon stroked her cheek and she whimpered, recoiling away from him. “I caught a little mouse lurking about. Our sister always did favor you, Elon. She has certainly grown into a beautiful woman, hasn’t she?”
Sister? Rawn’s mind was reeling.
“Why have you brought her here?” Elon seethed.
“I thought you might need a little motivation to do what I asked. But if Graeae is not enough, I can always send for that other elf you love. Sylar, was it? We brought him to the keep last night. He’s upstairs now, waiting for me. And he is certainly lovely. I can see why you chose to betray us for him.”
Elon’s one eye widened. “You swore...”
Anon laughed. “I swore I would not harm your family, and I kept my word. But that green scat is not part of our family, is he, sweet sister?” He kissed Graeae’s head, making her flinch away.
Elon slammed his fists against the bars. “If you harm him?—”
“Oh, you are not in the position to make threats,” Anon snarled. “You should be begging for my forgiveness.” Then he straightened, washing all emotion from his face in a blink, as if he felt none at all.
Elon’s loud breaths filled the silence then he sank to his knees. “Brother, please. Forgive me…”
A cruel, satisfied smile rose to Anon’s face. “There, was that so hard? Alas, it’s not my forgiveness you need to spare him, Elon, but fathers.” He laughed and his dark eyes moved to Rawn. “At the moment your prison companion cannot be touched, so I will propose another to take his place.” He grabbed Graeae’s throat, and she screeched as he yanked her close to the bars. “For every day he remains silent, I will mark the pretty flesh of everyone you love, Elon. Find out what I want to know, and it ends.”
Graeae silently wept and he clenched his shaking jaw.
“I don’t know where the key is,” Rawn exclaimed. “I have no memory of where it is hidden!”
He had tried for hours to remember with nothing to show for it.
“I am sure my little brother can help with that.” Anon sneered at his brother. “Do what you do best. You have three days, and today is day one.”
Then Anon strode away into the dark with the Bloodhounds following him. Grod grabbed Graeae and she cried out.
“Take your hands off her!” Elon reached through the bars.
Grod yanked his sister away, tearing their hands apart. And her soft weeping echoed through the tunnels.
Rawn shut his eyes. He braced himself against the wall, begging for his mind to remember, but it gave him nothing. “I’m sorry … I’m so sorry…”
Elon hands shook as he gripped the bars tight. “You must tell me where the other half of the key is, Rawn.” His low, ragged voice filled the cell. “Or I will be forced to tear the information out of you.”