The Light in the Dark ✓

Chapter 3.2 Not all is lost

Soon enough, they left Whitshire behind them. Iris was glad. At least on the road, they won't encounter many people. She had enough harassment. She leaned on the bars and let slow swaying of the wagon and hoofbeats lull her mind into indifference. Luckily, the beggar gave up on any attempts to chat her up. He was lost in his thoughts, his bushy brows furrowed.

When the pale Lord Sun reached His peak, they stopped for a break. The Inquisitors hopped off their horses and let the animals drink from the little stream. They chatted together, sharing their food. The wind blew her way, and she smelled the delicious scent of cooked meat. Her stomach growled loudly.

'Hey, lads!' called the beggar, getting up on his feet. Iris noted he was pretty tall. Even when hunched, he had to be careful not to hit the wooden ceiling with his head. 'How about some water and a bite for the prisoners, eh?'

The closest Inquisitor laughed. He sat on the large stone, eating fresh bread and pickled meat. 'Why should we bother? We didn't get orders to feed you!' His companions cackled as if it was the funniest joke they've ever heard.

'Oh, and do you need an order to piss too?' scoffed the beggar.

The knight was on his feet in seconds, scowling. 'Watch your tongue, old fart, or I will cut it out!'

'You'd better be careful, lad. As I recall that tongue of mine knows the secrets your superiors wish to pry off me. It would be a shame if they discovered I ain't able to talk.'

The Inquisitor growled and took out a dagger and walked towards their wagon. 'I can also cut off your filthy fingers. You won't need them anyway.'

Before he reached the cage, his companion put a heavy hand on his shoulder. 'Let the old dog bark all he wants. He's not worth the trouble of writing the report on the accident later.'

The angry man scoffed but sheathed his dagger back. 'Whatever, I'm going to feed the horses.'

'So how about this food, eh?' called the beggar again, but the Inquisitors ignored him. He sighed and sat back down.

Iris watched everything with indifference. What does it matter if we are hungry? She thought. The Inquisition will execute us as soon as we arrive at Amberguard, probably the day after tomorrow. Maybe it would be better if I died on the way from hunger than facing the Grand Inquisitor and my death sentence? She shivered. Just thinking about it terrified her.

When the Inquisitors started packing up their things and preparing to get back on the road, one of them - the reasonable one, as Iris named him in her mind, put a waterskin and some stale bread into their cage. The beggar immediately perked up and took it.

'You have my gratitude, lad,' he said.

The Inquisitor scoffed. 'Save your gratitude, old man. The girl looks pale, and she is a precious prisoner. You'd better feed her,' he said coldly and walked back to his horse.

The beggar sat in front of Iris and gave her a waterskin. She was surprised when her body took it without even thinking about it, taking big sips.

'Drink slowly, or you'll hurt your stomach, lass,' said the old man. She forced herself to slow down and hesitantly handed the waterskin back to him.

'Thank you,' she said.

'Eat.' He offered her bread. It was just a tiny slice, not nearly enough to satisfy one person's hunger, not to mention two hungry prisoners.

She took the slice, broke it in two and handed him one half. 'Let's share.'

He shook his head. 'You need it more than me. I'm old, and I ain't need much food anymore.'