The Sprinter

Chapter 31

Darkness. Darkness and gloom as far as her eyes could see, as far as her mind could feel. It weighed down the air around her, pulling on her. Despite her immobile position - tied to a chair - her breathing was heavy and laboured. She could almost taste the foul air, the moisture that hung in it, and the swallowed screams that it had suppressed. She shuddered to think of the years Eloise must have spent here.

A door opened behind her. It clunked, as if it were falling off a step. Arothena resisted the urge to try and turn, to try and look. Footsteps, wet and slow, prowled towards her. Wood groaned as someone laid a hand on the back of her chair. Close, so close to her face. Just one twist to the right and she could bite it off, but she forced herself to stay still, to stay calm, to wait.

“Three,” the man said, his voice twisting through the air, snide and wicked, yet also angry. Angry in a way that the yenaki weren’t.

“This is the third time I’ve been here to visit you. It is also the third day since I’ve brought you here. Three is also the number of chances that most people give others until they break, until they kill them.”

Arothena’s lip pulled up in a snarl.

“Not me. I don’t give my victims chances. They have all the time in the world to answer my questions. All the time in the world.”

“All the time in the world will never be enough for me to yield to you.”

Salene’s voice was distant - still melodious, yet weathered with anger and indignation, both at the yenaki, and at herself for being caught and used. Arothena kept silent.

“I think you’re wrong. Do you know why?” he asked, then continued without waiting for an answer, “It is because I am a King. I am King Jotkur of Yuhnig, and I have the power to destroy everything you’ve ever cared about. To destroy it, and then rebuild it into your worst nightmare.”

Arothena almost sniggered. Salene outright spat at him. A whoosh sounded as his hand flew through the air, then a crack as it struck Saline’s jaw. The sound of wood on stone echoed around the cell as Salene’s chair wobbled from the impact. To her credit, she didn’t whimper. Arothena stretched her hand out as far as she could with the rope binding her, and touched Salene’s leg.

Calm. Quiet. Defiant.

Salene squeezed her back, and Arothena retracted her hand. The King had now walked around, so as to face them. He stood in front of them, staring them fully in the face, and snapped his fingers. The commanding sound resonated throughout the room. Quick footsteps splashed behind them as a yenaki hurried into the room, carrying a flaming torch. He gave it to the King, who held it up in front of him. Arothena took the chance to quickly look around. The cell was walled with small cobblestones, and unused torches sat in brackets along the walls. To her right sat Salene, bound and defiant. Barely a glimmer of fear shone in her emerald eyes. Her chestnut hair was loose and tangled, and she stared at Jotkur, challenge in her eyes.

Arothena craned her head further. Beyond Salene, Ronan was tied up. Unlike them, he sat on a chair of iron. She smiled, taking wicked delight in the knowledge that he had not been bound easily. He sat tall, his shoulders back and his chin high, fangs lying over the top of his lower lip - a classically aggressive pose.

Jotkur turned towards him, and began to walk, pacing between the three of them.

“I wouldn’t worry, though. You won’t have to hold out for the duration of the world. You don’t even have to hold out for ten more seconds,” he said in a thoughtful manner, with emphasis on the last three words, “All you have to do is tell me what makes you so intent on killing me, and who else might know this reason. And, of course, where I should find the girl.”

Everyone knew who he meant, who it was he wanted. Eloise. And, despite the fact that she had left them, had run and run and kept on running, none of them felt inclined to tell him anything. Silence fell over them for an entire minute. The King raised one eyebrow, and nodded his head.

“I see. That’s fine. Only one of you is necessary to give me the information, the rest of you can experience my - surprise.”
“I thought you didn’t use the rule of three,” Salene’s voice cut back at him. The King smiled in an amused fashion.
“I guess I do. Oh well. Maybe the mouthy one should go first,” he said, drawing a dagger and flipping it in his hand, before placing it under Salene’s chin, lifting her head up. She stared back at him.

“Or maybe the brooding Rellae warrior,” he mused, running the flat of the blade down Ronan’s cheek. Arothena’s fury turned ice cold.

“Or perhaps,” he continued, crouching down in front of her, “I should break the group apart by its leader. Perhaps the fighter should die first.”

Arothena met his stare and held it.

“Yes. Yes, I think you should be the first to go. Then your mysterious lover over there.”

Arothena snarled at him, fury blazing in her eyes.

“Anyway, come on. Let's start, shall we?”

King Jotkur called out to the guards outside the cell. Three yenaki poured in through the broken door, and took up positions behind each of their chairs.

“Untie them and let's move. We’ll miss midday if we’re not careful.”

Arothena’s blood froze in her veins. Midday.

“Public executions have been banned for centuries, since the Rellae-Man peace treaty,” she stated coldly.
“Have they? My bad. I guess - your deaths won’t be intentional then.”

Of course, of course he would pull something like that. The accident of their deaths would avoid questions not only about the ‘execution’, but also about his motive. No one would need to know why he had wanted to kill them, or why they had resisted him in the first place. It was good. Hopefully, not good enough.

The creature behind her jerked her arms up, forcing her to stand. Salene and Ronan also struggled to their feet, and they were marched out the door. Arothena’s mind raced furiously to conjure a plan, to find a way to fight, to escape, but nothing came. She was so absorbed in her planning, that she had hardly noticed where she was going until the sunlight fell down onto her face, illuminating her for the first time in three days. Bright - it was so bright.

By the time her eyes had adjusted to the light, she had been tied to a tall wooden post, which sat squarely on a wooden platform, surrounded by two others. She looked around. Salene had been tied up to her left, and Ronan on her right. Neither struggled or fought. They both looked to her. It was her life - her choice. That was the one thing they had always respected, but she could see how it pained them to stay still. To let her make that choice. Ronan was shaking with fear, anger and restraint. She met his eyes, and found his usual calm gone, replaced by pain and undiluted terror. He couldn’t bear it. She nodded to him.

It’s going to be ok.

Arothena turned to face forward. To face the oily black hair and serpentine eyes of King Jotkur. Looking now at his speckled face and thick eyebrows, she was tempted to copy Salene and spit at him. But she made herself stop, made herself calm down and consider her options.

“Shall I ask you one more time? You already know the question.”

Even his voice seemed to resonate with pathetic threats. Arothena raised her chin to point at his face. He smiled, trying his hardest not to look exasperated.

“Alright then, Arothena. Tell me this instead: how would you like to die?”

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