Chapter 14 Solveig
The comforting scent of rain surrounded her as she woke. She was dressed in a fresh pair of linen pants and a new cotton shirt, already streaked with dirt from the hard ground beneath her. Why did they insist on dressing her in white?
Her chains rattled as she propped herself up as best she could on the mossy rock at her back, taking stock of her freshly healed body.
Well, mostly healed. From the dim light she could make out splotches of black and blue skin, bruises covering almost every inch of her body from his beating. But her ribs were healed and any other damage he inflicted while she was unconscious was gone.
No one is coming for you.
Her head ached, unsurprising under the circumstances, but she was also a little disoriented, as if she’d had too much sleep. The sun rising with her dread was her typical wake-up call, but it was well past midday.
Fear sat at the mouth of the cave in his usual posture—straight-backed, sword-in-lap, facing away from her.
She couldn’t remember a day when she hadn’t been tortured right at dawn.
Then again, Fear had said she was running out of time.
Maybe they were giving her a reprieve in hopes she would say something.
She never would, and she prayed today would be her last.
She ate her usual breakfast of stale bread, cold meat slowly, as she always did, attempting to trick her body into thinking it was enough.
She had long since forgotten what a full meal felt like—what other foods tasted of.
Trying to keep her strength was difficult since they gave her just enough to keep her alive and not a morsel more.
After her body finished healing each day, she tried to exercise as much as she could, given her range of motion.
In her usual position of lying flat on her back, she used the little wiggle room she had to do small crunches and leg lifts.
When they’d chained her face down on the ground after he brutalized her back, she did push-ups until her arms went numb.
Anything she could do to keep her body from completely deteriorating.
When she’d first started moving in a way that could’ve only resembled a dying fish out of water, her guards had tried to get her to stop. They’d shortened her chains even more, but as a result, they’d had to feed her and clean up her excrement. They grew tired of that quickly.
So they left her enough length to eat, sit up, wiggle around, and use the small bucket set in a hole dug in the ground for all her bodily functions.
She was not as strong as she used to be, of course—with limited range of motion there was only so much she could do.
But it kept her body active and her mind occupied in an attempt to not lose her sanity.
As she reached for her water, her feet jostled during the movement. She froze.
Usually, her ankles strained against the tight iron manacles and short chains, but this time the cuffs loosened, and her feet slipped the tiniest bit. She tried to keep her breathing quiet as she examined her shackles.
The lock was not latched properly.
Carefully, as silently as possible, she slid one foot farther out of the cuff. She was amazed to see that if she wanted to, she could probably get out of them entirely. She slipped her foot back into place and glanced at Fear to make sure he hadn’t heard anything. He showed no signs of movement.
Her mind raced with possibilities. Her hands were still firmly restrained, and with no way to pick the lock .
. . her train of thought shifted. The shackles on her ankles were held together by long pins.
If they were already loose, she could possibly use them to pry open the locks on her hands.
It would be difficult, but she had no other choice—she was running out of time.
With the knowledge that Latham was no longer coming, she had to hold on to this miniscule glimmer of hope that she could somehow make it out of this.
It occurred to her that they could be lying to break her but for some reason, she didn’t think that was the case.
If he had said it, she wouldn’t give the words any weight, but it had been Fear.
Plans flitted through her mind like leaves on the wind until one that was plausible landed. It was going to be painful, but she would endure it once more. Solveig steeled herself to the fact that today she would either escape or be executed.
Either result would suit her just fine.
As she heard those distinct footfalls, she accepted what she had to do. Fear got to his feet as he came into view. They whispered to each other, both their bodies rigid. Fear resumed his seated position and he came closer, his breathing heavy and steps loud.
No questions today. This was it.
“Good afternoon, puppet,” he whispered. “I hope you enjoyed your morning off. Maybe you’ll show your appreciation by dancing for me today.” Solveig suspiciously eyed the new hammer looped through his belt.
As much as he had learned about her, she had learned about his habits as her torturer. If she spat at him, she would be sliced open. If she gave him an insolent finger, he would beat her. But when she cried, that was his favourite, loving the taste of her tears as he licked them off her face.
He would string her up by her hands and strip her naked. Fear would leave and Water would replace him as her guard. In any other circumstance, she would think he cared about her propriety.
Solveig mentally snorted at the prospect that Fear had any decent bone in his body.
Taking a shallow breath, she started to whimper. She had one chance and would not waste it. Her sobs came easily as her terror grew when he stepped closer and knelt down beside her. Her body trembled out of habit, but she was careful not to yank at her loose chains.
“What’s the matter, puppet? Not happy to see me today? Did you think I’d let an entire day go by without visiting you?” He tsked. “Now what fun would that be?” Tears streamed down her face as he grabbed her by the chin. He leaned in to whisper in her ear.
“It’s a shame really,” he said, his breath rancid against her cheek, “to waste a specimen like yourself. I could’ve played with you forever.” He sighed as he stood again.
Solveig cried harder, hoping she wasn’t laying it on too thick, but it wasn’t far from how she was feeling.
He chuckled and, as she knew he would, unlocked the chains on her hands from the ground before hoisting them up to sling around the giant hook on the cave ceiling.
This hook haunted her nightmares, both in waking and in sleep as it loomed overhead, but it may very well be her salvation.
Fear was already standing to leave. He paused at the cave entrance and, for the second time in eighty-nine days, he looked at her directly. Solveig’s magic flared, seething, straining in her veins. This was not part of her plan. If Fear didn’t leave or if he joined him today, it was over for her.
Instead, Fear took a deep breath and left. Solveig didn’t know what to make of it. Before she could dwell on it further, he tore her shirt clean off, the smell of rain disappearing with it. She braced herself, knowing she only had moments before Water appeared.
He yanked her hands to ensure they were secure, but before he could remove her pants and check her ankles, she slipped out of the shackles and kicked him hard in the face.
His nose cracked beneath her heel, flooding her with a sick sense of satisfaction at delivering the same injury he’d first given her.
“BITCH!” he roared, causing her to flinch. She had to end this quickly so he didn’t make any more noise. It was common for him to yell and call her names, but usually after the first few minutes he settled in, quiet and focused on making her scream.
He charged towards her but she lifted her legs, wrapping them around his neck before he could attack. She pressed as hard as she could, cutting off his air supply and his ability to yell out again, ignoring the slicing pain in her wrists.
In his rage he’d forgotten about his tool belt of torture and, to her luck, didn’t go for his new hammer or any of his knives.
He tried to pull her off, scratching her thighs, his fingers digging into what was left of her muscles, but it was no use.
Solveig used all her strength to squeeze him into unconsciousness.
Every cell in her being wanted to kill him but, unfortunately, didn’t have the time. Water never took more than ten minutes to arrive after Fear left, and Solveig had no idea if anyone could be waiting outside the cave.
Outside could lead directly into the heart of their camp. Still, she had no other choice but to risk it.
He struggled against her hold, but she tightened her thighs, imagining squeezing the life out of him. His grip on her legs slipped, his strength wavering. Solveig held on, sweat pouring down her back, blood trickling down her arms from her wrists.
Cries reverberated off the walls, echoing in the dark cave. It took a moment before she realized it was her—she was still sobbing. She tried to take a deep breath without loosening her legs.
Come on, come on, come on.
Finally, he slumped in her clutches, but she didn’t let go right away, ensuring he would either die or stay knocked out. She squeezed harder and counted to thirty, her muscles burning. Carefully, very carefully, she unhooked her legs and let him fall to the ground with a loud thump.
Solveig froze, watching the mouth of the cave. No footsteps sounded, so she proceeded to the next step of her plan. She had to free her chains from the hook. Given that she could barely touch the ground with her toes, she needed more leverage.
With any luck at all, he wouldn’t wake while she used him as a step stool.
Gritting her teeth, she braced herself for the pain. In one swift movement, she sprang on his prostrate form, using the upwards momentum to jerk the chain out from the hook.
She couldn’t believe it worked on the first try. With two of the difficult challenges out of the way, the next was getting out of the cave without getting caught. And preferably not half naked.
The tattered rags of her shirt wouldn’t do any good—she’d have to stay shirtless and hopefully find something to wear later. She quickly unscrewed the long pins from her ankle shackles and folded them in her palm. Her hands would have to remain chained while she got her bearings.
Solveig slipped the hammer from his belt and started towards the front of the cave. She stepped as lightly as she could, adrenaline coursing through her veins. Her muscles ached from disuse, but she had to push through.
Flattening herself against the wall of the cave, she crept to the opening, eyes squinting at the onslaught of light. When she was ready, she held her breath.
With the hammer raised, she took her first look outside in eighty-nine days.