Chapter 3 #2
Perran’s face contorted into a snarl. “Stop being so damn stubborn.” He grabbed the mechanism himself and cranked.
His fury permeated the air, pressing down on me like a heavy blanket, and the leather around my neck cut deep into my flesh as the King of Merchants immersed himself in his anger and repeated the motion.
I lost count of how often, and truth be told, I wasn’t in any state of mind to try as I fought hard against the horror of my memories and, worse, the fact I couldn’t breathe anymore.
My head turned light from a lack of oxygen.
Panic clawed inside of me.
A scream battled to dislodge from my throat, but no sound came. Black spots danced in my vision, multiplied and spread wide, and as the last crank I perceived tore through the room like thunder, I sank into dark oblivion.
To my astonishment, I woke up again after an unknown amount of time, lying on my cot.
How was I still alive?
Taking a big, raspy gulp of stale air as my muscles trembled, tears of relief and strain ran down my cheeks.
I couldn’t tell how long I’d been unconscious, but when I sat up and my eyes got somehow used to the minimal light in my cell, I spotted something strange.
When I’d left my cage, there had been fewer chalk lines. The last mark I’d drawn on the coarse wall had been the eighth, but now, I counted ten white stripes. Was I suffering from memory loss, or had someone wanted to mess with me?
Unable to stay upright, I lay back as my constant companion, dizziness, intensified.
My throat was burning and parched; my neck, as well as my whole body, was still one giant pain, and my stomach was past growling—the organ acted as if it tried to digest itself.
As I recalled the last few hours I could remember, I had to admit that having spent the past two days unconscious didn’t seem so unlikely, especially if I considered believing Perran’s sentiment that he was planning to starve me.
Although dehydration was a bigger problem than a lack of food. Had I ever read something about how long a person could survive without water? The only thing I was certain of was that the period was short.
And the flicker of hope I’d nourished two days ago? That had been snuffed out, and as I was lying motionless on my cot, staring at the ceiling, I realized I’d given up. There was no way I’d make it out of here alive.
Tears left wet trails on my cheeks.
I’d evaded certain death once, and since godlings never took being cheated well, Noelk was calling me to him in this slow and torturous way, merciless and unyielding.
Lost in delirious thoughts, I barely looked up as light streaming into my cell indicated that the door had opened. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t have reacted, as a coughing fit shook my whole body all of a sudden.
A faint click and fading brightness suggested I was locked in again.
The coughs came as fast as they went, and only then did I turn my head, just to spot the redheaded guard, Nancy. His expression was too friendly to be true, and—was that pity glittering in his eyes?
“You need to drink,” he whispered as he lifted a cup to my lips, which was the cleanest item I’d encountered in over a week.
Confusion must have been written all over my face because the guard spoke on. “There’s a lot I disagree with concerning how you’re treated. Now, drink before someone catches me here.”
“You’re…helping me?”
“If I’d discovered a way, you would have disappeared from this cruel place days ago. But yes. I want to help.”
Was this a trap? “Why?”
“You remind me of my daughter. And I was acquainted with Jelric. He’d always been spoiled, entitled, and horrible. His father, though—he’d been a good and fair man for the longest time. Only in the last few winters did he change. He’s getting worse and worse, and I’m fed up.”
I cherished the coolness coating my parched throat as I consumed a big sip of the clear water, and a greed for more awoke. But Nancy made sure I didn’t drink too fast.
His tale about how Feroy’s behavior shifted didn’t ease my mind about the warden’s motives. On the contrary. The story sounded too constructed to be true. “I don’t trust you.”
“I’m aware. But I wish you would.”
“Where am I?”
“In Ivreiana. There’s a whole dungeon complex beneath Perran’s headquarters. And he’s pissing his pants because a trail of death moves across the world, advancing closer and closer, targeting everyone who helped him when he brought you here.”
Sucking in a surprised breath, I almost spilled some precious water. What Nancy said…if he were honest, this could only mean one thing.
Dion.
Corpses piling up sounded absolutely like him. But—was he really coming for me? “Those murders…are they—”
“Very bloody. Cruel. Explicit. The scope is baffling, and everyone is on edge.”
“If my acquaintance is behind the bloodshed, and truth be told, your story sounds like something he’d do, then I can only warn you. He won’t stop. And your boss is rightfully terrified.” Gods, smiling hurt.
“Tell me who I have to search for. My chances to help you are limited, but I could at least keep my eyes open for this mysterious him and tell your…friend where he can find you.”
My brain was still fuzzy, even after draining the whole cup of water that had left me yearning for more, but I wasn’t yet incapacitated enough to stop being suspicious. “What will you get out of taking such a risk?”
“Hopefully, my own life. Being here when your company rains the underworld down on this place doesn’t rank very high on my wish list. And as I’ve told you, I have a daughter.
She’s a bit younger than you, but just as stubborn.
She would like you. For her, I want to do the right thing.
Also, believe me or not, I like Ivreiana.
I have friends here, and I would be upset if anyone I cherish were to be caught up in a massacre I could have helped to avoid. ”
Lifting the cup to my lips once more, hoping to catch a few last drops, disappointment rumbled in my guts as my endeavor was unsuccessful. After I’d scowled, I set the empty mug aside and pondered if Nancy was trustworthy.
I wondered what I’d risk, and honestly, the answer was not much.
Yes, I’d have to give Nancy some morsels of information, something I’d sworn not to do, but what the guard had said made sense—if Dion was coming for me, he wouldn’t shy away from painting the city red.
And I was uncomfortable enough knowing that he was merrily slaughtering his way across the world.
“His name is Dion. Tall, dressed in black, with long raven hair and light gray eyes. Just watch out for the darkest, most attractive male around who gives the impression he wants to murder everyone—and is able to deliver.”
Even if Nancy was bluffing, and he forwarded this information to Feroy, Dion would be more than capable of taking care of himself.
“Thanks. I’ll find him. My brother works as a city guard at Ivreiana’s front gates. Together, we should be able to pull some strings. Hold on a bit longer, will you?”
Nodding, I still mourned the loss of the cool water. “Did you mark the wall?”
“Yes. I guessed you’d appreciate it. There’s a new piece of chalk hidden under your cot as well.”
Just like that, the odds in the death race between the chalk and me had changed, and I wasn’t sure who was at an advantage.
“Thank you, Nancy. One last thing—should you encounter Dion, be cautious. If he’s in the mood I suspect he’s in, he’ll kill first and ask questions later.
Oh, and for the love of all the gods, don’t mention to him that you aided Feroy in torturing me.
If you can help get me out of here for real, I’ll explain everything to him.
” I had no idea how yet or if Dion even intended to speak with me ever again, but somehow, I would find out.
For the first time since I’d woken up, another spark of hope flared up in my chest. There was one thing I was sure about. Even if Dion were to simply descend on this place to get revenge on the merchant and didn’t give a damn about me, my situation would improve.
And if he were angry enough to finish me himself…I’d prefer such a death a thousand times over one delivered by Perran Feroy.