Chapter 4: The Voice from the Shadow

“Hit him again, Basilus,” said Pollux, the first of two elves in the cell with me.

As I was on my elbows and knees, Bailus didn’t hit me, instead rearing back his right foot and kicking me in the ribs. The breath left me in an instant, and when I coughed, I spat up blood.

Pollux laughed.

These were the two elves that I had attacked in the alley a few hours before. I became aware and conscious again once in the basement of the Cityguard command center on the southern side of Landen, the elven holding area before the Empire sent captives on to other prisons and slave centers, depending on the individual and crime.

Or the human was never seen again, meeting some unfortunate accident while in custody, awaiting whatever sham of a hearing was next. Which would probably be me, the one that disappeared.

Pollux and Basilus had waited until I was conscious to start beating me.

“My turn,” Pollux said.

“There’s a spot on his face without a bruise or cut yet,” Basilus responded.

Pollux rammed his fist down upon the right side of my jaw. I swung my head around with the force of the blow, trying to minimize the pain. Moaning, I fell to my side, by back to them, and one of them kicked me.

It hurt to breathe, the air coming through my lungs in a strange rattle. My eyes were closed, more by the swelling than by choice by then.

Basilus said, “Good play not killing this crit sucker. This has been fun.”

Pollux chuckled. “One thing you can say about these humans. They might be weak in the head, but they can take some punishment.”

“They take forever to kill sometimes.” That came with another kick.

They had focused their abuse on my face and midsection. Pollux had managed a knee to my groin in the beginning, so I learned to keep my legs closed tight and my arms covering my head as much as possible.

Only a torch outside the tiny, stone, square cell gave any light. Everything within was shadow. It stank of crit and urine and the dead. The blood that dripped from the cuts on my face and spit from my mouth was fresh, however.

“You notice the time when we start on this one?” Pollux’s kick to my back was minor.

“Nah,” Basilus said. “Maybe an hour?”

“Coulda been.” Pollux sniffed.

With the pain and agony over most of my body, I cursed my own stupidity. I hadn’t been thinking, at least not about what could happen to me. I only wanted to save the woman, the memories of Ma in my own mind.

When I really considered it, though, I also wanted to hurt those elves. Maybe kill them. That might have been the biggest reason, being honest with myself.

And now they were playing a game to see how long it would take to kill me. Not using any weapons, only their own hands and fists. I would be another wasted life, another human killed in a dark hole of the Kryan Empire. That empire had killed a host of us in plain sight and light of day, too.

They killed us everywhere. Even in our own home.

I might be an idiot about to die, but I wouldn’t die on my knees. They would know. They would remember. Even if no one else did. Carys, Aunt Kendra, Reyan, and Earon might all wonder the rest of their lives what happened to me. But these two elves would have a memory.

I could do that.

I didn’t pray often, rarely on my own. Living with a prophet, that language surrounded me, but it didn’t feel like my own. Like I would be pretending.

Deciding to be honest, I prayed to El. I know I’m a moronic madder and about to die for my own stupidity. But help me stand on my feet. Help me die on my feet.