Fan Fiction ❯ Spirit of the Dragon ❯ Face of the Enemy ( Chapter 21 )

Chapter Twenty One

Acanthus awoke with a roaring headache.

"Calla?" He croaked. Calla was his nursemaid, and usually came in the mornings to open his curtains and bring in hot tea. Why was it still so dark? When he opened his eyes, he could see nothing but a stream of light wafting down through a crack in the wall. That was strange.

Something was blotting the corner of his vision. It was a red cloud, and it smelled like black magic. Where am I? He sat up groggily and wiped his sweaty forehead, for the room was hot and sticky. Why had he been sleeping on a board? His back felt stiff and he rubbed it absently.

Then he stood…and fell. It was a shock that jarred his entire body, and now his headache was pounding, because he had been unable to catch himself as he tumbled downward to the floor. Something rattled as he shifted painfully. That was the cause of it: his ankles were bound in chains.

He scooted back over to the board and fumbled for it blindly. The chain dragged along the splintered wood. It was connected to some unseen hold in the wall.

With the last of his dwindling energy, he pulled himself back up onto the plank. He did not like this at all, but he felt better up high than cowering alone in the pitch-black prison. It was an uncomfortable situation, to say the least. And he could not remember what had led up to it.

He touched the right side of his head where it felt sore. The skin was tender, and wet…A sniff of his fingers told him it was blood. He swallowed; his throat was dry. He knew he needed water.

His ears perked up at the echoed sound of footsteps. Someone was approaching from a hall behind a door.

There was the jangle of metal, the creak of wood, and a flood of bright light that made him groan in protest. He slowly drew his hands from his face, and stared at a blur of washed color.

"Herre. Take thees." A woman said in a thick Gardrothian accent.

Something cold touched his lips, and he swallowed. It was the water he craved.

When he could see, he looked up at her. She unexpectedly beautiful, with a pale face of delicate features hiding beneath golden ripples of hair. Her lips were full and pink, like cherry blossoms, and her arms were long and thin. What was left of her hid beneath a heavy black robe, which was tied together with a crimson sash. A sorceress.

"Eenuf?" She asked; he nodded in reply, and wiped away the droplets that had dribbled down to his chin.

"Where am I?" Acanthus said, glancing around. The room was bare. It seemed like a stall without hay.

"Behtunny." Was her reply. "Behtunny Harburr."

"Kaiden…" Acanthus gasped, as he remembered all that had happened. "What has become of my squire?"

"Uddah boy ess tay-ken away. To uddah room." When she moved her head, a length of hair fell away from her right eye to reveal a colorless iris. It glowed faintly, and he found himself wondering whether it was truly handicapped or not. Perhaps a magic allowed her to still see through it? Or maybe it could see other things; things imperceptible to the human eye. He shuddered involuntarily.

"Herrt, yuh?" A silk-like finger brushed against his temple, and he winced. "I havv dis, forr da pain…" She reached into her cloak to reveal a tiny glass bottle. Then from a handbag she found a cloth, and poured a drop of the indigo liquid onto its surface. With the utmost care, she dabbed it against his wound. It stung, but then numbed, and the soreness was gone.

"Thank you." He said, confused by this treatment. "I thought Gardrothians tortured their captives."

"Summ…not Avesta."

"Avesta?"

"That ess mee. Sa Coni Avesta. My menn cast da spell…they see fah arrive, and trap him, yuh? Yoo nohtees thees."

"Who sent you to attack the city?" Acanthus already knew the answer.

"Duxe Ronori. Hee pay silths to join. Hee come and speek to fah, dis I am sertinn." Her normal eye was vividly blue. "Fah wait forr Ronori. Hee come and speek. But hee haz angerr. I hope hee dozent hurrt fah."

"Great." Acanthus mumbled. He was afraid of that.

"Sorry, fah. Warr ess bad, but eet brings Avesta pay, yuh?" Ronori must have been desperate, because the silths did not hire cheaply.

Avesta turned her head as someone else entered the room. Acanthus could not see the visitor yet, because the sorceress blocked his line of vision. But he had a very good idea of who it was.

"Cesso nomei, Avesta." A man's voice.

"Pleo, Duxe. Pleo effici non morsis tra fah." She was pleading with him about something; something that had to do with the prince.

"Cesso, Avesta." He was agitated.

"Accordio…" It sounded as though she had given in.

"Ido illae faci poenat. Effici non nemoni, ido fon tra surret."

"Meo agnosco." As Avesta stood, the doorway framed her head in an aureole of gold. Then she turned from Acanthus, and her feet padded softly against the wood until she reached the exit.

"Shem tra porto." Barked the duxe.

"Pleurus dem…" The door shut.

Acanthus was afraid to meet the man's eyes. He feared it would be taken as a challenge, and punished with pain.

"Look at me, Fah." Ronori's Ythi was flawless, to the prince's surprise. He had even less of an accent than Crowe.

Acanthus looked up wearily. A tall man in his mid-twenties stared back at him. He held a flickering candle that cast shadows across his handsome face. That was Ronori? No wonder Crowe had fallen for him. Acanthus felt defeated.

"I should kill you, for what you've done." Ronori's words were like ice. Acanthus could feel them creeping into his brain, and he shivered. "You destroyed my army. You destroyed my lady's army." He waited, as if Acanthus should respond. "Say something, damn you!"

"You attacked Veridea. And you were going to attack again. Surely you cannot hold a grudge, for something which you brought upon yourself?" A bit of his wit was coming back to him. "I knew Gardrothians were daft, but you are beyond it."

Ronori struck him. It was a blow to the face that knocked Acanthus' head back against the wall. He blinked up at him dazedly, and mopped a spot of blood from his split lip. His headache screamed at him.

"Choose your words wisely, miserable fah." Ronori's dark eyes were steady. "You cannot act as you do in your kingdom."

"This is my kingdom."

Ronori grabbed him by the collar. "You're a difficult one, aren't you? Well I know how to deal with obstinacy." His face was so close that Acanthus could feel his hot breaths against his cheek. He cringed and braced himself for what was to come.

Ronori dropped him, as if he were nothing more than a dirty rag to be tossed aside, and Acanthus hit the floor. He was not as lucky as the first time; he landed on his right arm and felt it give out. Pain. He rolled onto his back, blinking the tears away. Gods, let this end. He imagined he was somewhere far away, somewhere where this malicious creature could not touch him. His mind envisioned a field of flowers. He sat beneath a willow tree, while a dark-haired woman sang to him…

Crowe's voice. If I make it through this, I will ask her to sing for me…He wanted to hear her sweet song. He wanted it to ensnare him once again; ensnare him with its tantalizing sensuality.

Ronori was kicking him in the side, but he would not yell. He would not give in to this wretch's wrath.

Instead he listened to the words in his mind. They sung a melancholy song about a man who held his lover's dying body, while she released one last painful breath…