Chapter Twenty
Wyatt
Beads of sweat drip down my brow, as Caelan says, “You really expect me to believe the guards took you because you hit them? I know these arseholes, they’re more likely to leave you in a ditch than take you to that high fucker for something as trivial as that.”
I look around, panting, scanning the eyes of the men who brought me here. Their eyebrows furrow and crease, shifting their positions, wondering if they messed up bringing me here. The disapproval in the air is so thick I can barely breathe.
I swallow the lump that’s growing in my throat. “Alright, you want the truth? The guards kidnapped my family, that’s why I got into the fight.”
My legs are numb underneath me, I shuffle around on my knees, telling them the truth, or at least a sliver of the truth. It’s the only way forward. Otherwise, I fear I’m a dead man once again.
Caelan gestures for me to continue.
“A couple of weeks ago, guards came to Vendyl to look for a ‘witch’—or so they called her. She wasn’t a witch, not really. She was a young woman from the town who recently found out she has magic and was being hunted because of it. She escaped after taking out a good few guards.”
Show sadness, Wyatt. You have to sell this part. “Almost a week ago now, I spotted a shit ton of guards at our house. I ran in to find it trashed and my family gone. They mistakenly took my family, believing they were hers.”
“A witch, eh?” He takes a dagger out of his sheath and twists it against his finger, his eyes sparkle with suspicion.
My eyes widen at the dagger spinning in his hand, my forehead soaking with sweat. “Yeah, a witch of sorts. I—I do know her, but—but I don’t know where she went.”
Caelan leans back in his large, forbidding throne; his hand caressing the hilt of a huge great sword that rests on the arm of his chair.
My eyes trail from the hilt to the extremely sharp tip, the colossal beast is longer than my leg.
The light from the fire glinting off the steel like a guillotine, patiently waiting to swipe my head clean off my shoulders.
A bead of sweat drips down onto my lips, the salty taste making my mouth drier than the deserts of the Sand Coast. My breath hastening with each passing minute. If I have to wait any longer, I feel I may crack under the pressure of his stare.
With a curt nod, footsteps stomp behind me, hauling me from the dusty hard ground. “Let’s see if a few days in the pit will loosen his tongue.”
Caelan rises; his shadow towering over me as he reaches his full height. The great sword resembles a toothpick in comparison to his large stature.
“But I…” I splutter as I’m being dragged backwards. Caelan turns away to speak to the folk who brought me to my next prison.
“Please. I need to find my family. No!” I kick and push against the bodies, removing me from the hut. I can’t go to the pit. I need to find them. Why doesn’t he understand?
Since I was dumped in this mud-covered pit, I have sat wallowing in my misery.
My failures. I’m always failing the folk I promised to look after.
I failed Andi when she asked me to keep our family safe, losing them to the Zury brutes.
Failed Nia and Elana. I shouldn’t have left them that day, I thought they’d be safe.
Can I even blame the poor souls who were tortured? Would I have held up any better?
Maybe we’ll find out.
Lastly, I failed Euan. Losing his girls to the wilderness, fighting for their lives, starving or worse, being beaten. I smack my head back against the hard, muddy wall, to rid myself of those thoughts. I can’t think about them being hurt; it makes my blood seethe.
Now I’ve traded one miserable life for another.
How long am I going to stay in this dark, damp pit?
At least it’s hidden within the mountain, away from the temperaments of the weather.
The shelter of the mountain cave creates warmth from its walls, so I can’t complain too much, my jail could be a lot worse.
When I first arrived, with all the strength I had, I tried climbing out of it, but the clay walls crumbled beneath my grip. It must be about eight feet tall; no way I could reach the top. Even if I could, it’s covered with latticed wooden bars.
“Look at that, Arel. Our new friend has stopped wasting his time trying to mount the walls,” says the larger of the two men.
They both look down at me with stupid grins on their faces. One large man built like a boulder, has scruffy mud coloured hair. The other is tall and slender, with bright blonde hair down to his chin. I look back at my feet, trying to ignore the invaders of my solitary time.
“Leave the poor kid alone, he’s had a rough week,” the other voice chastised. Arel, I take it.
The bars rumble up ahead, and a rope ladder is tossed down to the bottom. I shuffle over to the corner as they both begin their descent. The blonde strolls over to where I’m sitting, plonking himself down. I wriggle further into the corner as I can physically push myself.
The blonde rustles about in his satchel and pointed ears poke out of his falling hair. An elf. I want to ask so many questions but stop myself as the ground rumbles with the larger man jumping the last few steps.
“This is for you.” The elf hands me a lump of venison, but I eye it warily. My stomach growls with hunger pains, but still I refuse. “Suit yourself,” he says, ripping a chunk off and throwing it into his mouth.
My mouth fills with saliva, thanks to the delicious smell of venison. I swallow it down, trying my best to ignore how hungry I am. My stomach lets out another mammoth growl, showing everyone its irritation at my choice. The larger man sits across from the elf and me, scowling at my lack of eating.
“Well, if you’re not going to eat it…” he grumbles. The blonde elf protests, snatching it out of his hand.
Minutes pass by, as I sit in my corner, blatantly ignoring the two gossiping to each other about other members of the group.
Instead, I draw on the mud walls with a tiny stick I found and pick at the ties on my wrists.
I’m still unable to loosen them, it’s like they’re forged into a knot.
I recall stories from books, ones I used to comfort myself with on days when Nik was being unusually horrible.
Their voices become a white noise in the background, allowing me to pull on my memories of the elf wars, until someone’s voice startles me.
“I said, what’s your name, kid?” the man in front of me asks. “Things don’t need to be so hostile around here, you know.”
I scoff under my breath. “You’re not the one trapped in a hole.”
“You don’t have to be either. Think about it.”
With that, they both climb up the rope ladder, pulling it back up with them and closing the lid to my box.
The rest of the night, I play the last few weeks over in my head.
Repeating the same mistakes, wondering what I could have, should have done differently.
Now Nia and Elana are… I don’t even know.
And I’m stuck… again. I punch the wall in anger, bruising my knuckles.
Fuck.
The next morning, I am woken by a chattering of voices above me.
“You talk in your sleep, you know,” a man’s voice shouts down. The crate door opens again, and the rope ladder unfolds, followed by two different men than yesterday.
“What? No, I don’t,” I say groggily, my voice hoarse from the lack of water.
The two men are similarly dressed, but one is tall and skinny with dirty blonde hair and fair skin. The other is shorter with a warm amber skin tone and short black hair, shaven close to his scalp.
The shorter of the two kneels beside me, handing me a flask of water. “Drink.”
Without hesitation, I grab the flask from him. Water spills down my tunic as I guzzle haphazardly from the flask.
“What’s your name, kid?” the man asks, handing me a bread roll wrapped in a swatch. I debate slapping his hand away but at this rate I’ll have zero energy to chase after Nia and Elana.
If I ever get out of here.
“Wyatt,” I reply, snatching the bread, not allowing him the chance to take it back.
“Easy there, Wyatt.” He chuckles. “Thought you were gonna bite my hand off. I’m Aron, and this shy sod next to me is Izaac. How are you doing down here?”
Terrible. Tired. Bored out of my tits.
“Fine.”
Aron cocks his eyebrow. “Sure you are.”
Damn, I must look worse than I thought. I guess days of unplanned travel will do that to you. Bet I smell a treat. I keep stuffing bread into my mouth to avoid any more questions, not that it stops him asking. I ignore the best I can, but one stops me in my tracks.
“Tell me, Wyatt. This witch you mentioned, what was her power? I grew up in a town full of magic wielders, so call me curious.” Izaac’s shoulders drop in disgruntlement, shaking his head at Aron.
“She had… I don’t even know what to call it. It was something I had never seen before.”
“Hrm…” Aron said, “That just makes me more intrigued.” Izaac rolls his eyes, but Aron keeps going with this line of inquiry. “How did the guards know to look for her?” I shrug. “How did they find her? Was she using her powers when they found her, or did someone unveil her secret?”
With a piqued sigh, he says, “You have to tell me something, it’s killing me here.”
“They carried a weird compass that glowed near her. But it was probably the marking she had on her back. Showed she was a witch or something.”
At this point, I’d tell him everything to just get him to shut up. My head is ready to explode, and I’m bone tired.
Aron nods. “Now that you're fed and watered, Caelan wants a word. Come on.”
I groan, following them up the ladder.
The sun blazes down on me as we exit the mountain cave. I shield my eyes with my arm, catching a waft of my smell, gagging in the process. Either kill me at this point or let me leave, I’m so done with the waiting around.
The little village is busy, with folk of all ages mulling about with the farms and livestock. Digging up the dirt, fishing in the small river that runs through the middle of the hamlet.
We walk—I stumble, with how tired I am—into Caelan’s hut. My knees buckle beneath me, and I fall flat on my face. Grunting in pain, I roll onto my back. I barely have enough strength to move.
“Haven’t we been feeding him? We’re not beasts,” Caelan shouts.
“Course we have. He’s just a stubborn little rat who doesn’t want to eat.” I recognise the larger man from the first visit I received. Forcing myself into an upright position, I swear the number of folk in this hut has increased twofold. Or maybe I’m just seeing double.
Caelan stomps in front of me, holding a plate filled to the brim with meat, bread, and cheese. I lift my eyes to him before I take it, to make sure it’s not a trick.
“Eat,” Caelan demands.
Hesitantly, I take the plate from him, stuffing everything in my mouth, like it’s the first time I've seen food. Caelan retreats to his throne, and Aron and Izaac follow him, whispering in his ear. The chief slumps into his chair.
“Tell me about this marking? The one you saw on the witch?”
I shrug. “What marking? I don’t know about any marking,” I reply coolly, even though my heart is pounding out of my chest. Caelan nods calmly, his hand rests on the hilt of his sword. “Oh, the witch. Right yeah. I dunno, it was like a four-pointed star. What does it matter?”
“Wyatt, is it? I’ve been looking for this girl for a very long time.” A cunning smirk breaks out on Caelan’s face.