The first thing that came into his consciousness was a blob of cold, slimy substance pressing against his lips. The second thing was the dull, throbbing pain around his wrist and ankle. When his eyelids fluttered open, his vision was stained with red patches. He must've been wounded in some way that affected his sighting. Blinking fervently as he attempts to push the blood out from his eyes, his field of view got clearer and spotted his own wrist bounded onto the arm of a chair by a pair of leathery belts.
Looking over his knees, he sees that his ankles were tightly tied to the legs of the chair in the same way. His surroundings were dark, the only thing that illuminated the space was a torch standing next to him.
"Seems like twenty-four is awake," a deep, sand-paper voice rasped beside him. "Go tell the master."
"Yes, sir," another lighter, oilier voice replied followed by footsteps slowly padding away.
Ralph's head shot up in surprise and fear as the cold slimy substance that was pressed onto his lips got thrust into his mouth. He could only describe it as having a rather peculiar taste before he has to spit it back out. The person standing beside him grabbed hold of his hair and pulled his head back, then in comes an even more slimy substance. He tried to struggle against the belts that bounded him but with no success. Tightening his fingers around the chair arm, his muscle tensed as a drop of the cold substance dripped down to his throat.
He can't stand this. All he sees is blood and darkness. All he feels is pain and nauseous.
He tried to scream, but the person pushed a cool, metal spoon down onto his throat, silencing him.
Just as he thought he might've been brought back to Jerron, and is now being force-fed with some kind of drugs, an unfamiliar voice broke the sickening silence.
"Sir! The enslaved people are on the run! Please take a look!"
The man stopped his actions, and let go of Ralph. He instantly bent down over his knees and gagged out over the floor.
"How?" The man grumbled.
"I-I accidentally lost the key," the voice trembled. It soon turned into a shrilling scream that made Ralph's hair stand on its end. He shivered as the unfortunate soul continues to scream and plead.
He didn't know how long this went on before he realized it stopped. When he looked up, the man was gone. Lit up under the glow from distance torches was a weak, trembling figure of a... Girl, he guessed?
She lies, barely breathing, in a pool of blood. Ralph didn't know what to do. He wanted to help her, but with his limbs immobilized, he has no manner of doing anything that may help with her situation.
But suddenly, something she was carrying on her back caught his attention. It was a sword.
A sword! He thought with a jolt of excitement. If he were to pick a weapon to fight with, then he would undoubtedly choose the sword. If he somehow managed to get his hands on that weapon, he could get both of them out of this sticky situation.
"Can you hear me?" Ralph asked, his whisper sounding alarmingly loud in the chamber.
He waited for what felt like a century before the girl manage to reply with a faint 'yes'.
"Can you try to see if you can move closer to me?" Ralph carefully instructed. "A little closer would do. If I can get your sword, I could free myself."
She struggled and trembled heavily as she pushed herself up from the floor, blood still dripping down from her body as she pulled herself away. To Ralph's surprise, after a few attempts, she managed to stand up. She trod over to him slowly, then pulled out her sword and placed it in his hands.
YOU ARE READING
Alasla: The New Age
Fantasy"What killed him isn't me. It's the world." Ralph had never asked for much. Not even his own identity. But when his best and only friend got murdered by the man he calls father, he was forced to set off on an expedition to unravel the truth of this...
