Rudimentum: Oracle

Chapter 22

The sun beat down like an endless flame licking the back of their necks. William sat against the carriage's cage bars, an arm resting on a raised knee. Sweat clung to his shirt, the smell of dirt and hay mixing in with his body odour. His vest sat beside him as if melted.

Swift quietly snored in the corner ahead of him. His sun-tanned skin soaked in the sun with his bandana tied around his neck.

William glanced around at the small village, the grass long and the crops even taller. The carriage kicked up dust and it danced behind them free in the wind as the two horses steadily pulled them along. A dozen guards escorted their prison carriage, stoic and grey. William watched as people shrunk from their presence; their shoulders withered and their necks like turtles retreating within.

He turned and watched a gaggle of children up ahead fighting with two swords. The carriage approached them like the rumble of thunder and their laughs died in their throats. They parted like a flock of birds disturbed their arms flailing for flight.

As they passed, the children stared up at them, their eyes full of questions.

William lowered his head. He licked his lips, his mouth as dry and dusty as the dirt below him. He closed his eyes to the groan of his stomach, having not eaten for two days.

"Here," came a whisper. He turned. An older woman following beside the cage a safe distance from the patrol guards, suddenly rushed to his side. Through the bars she slipped an old napkin. He took it and unwrapped what was within. A piece of crumbling cake greeted his eyes.

"Thank you," he rasped. The last guard turned around, his hood hiding his face like all the others.

"Get away you old wench," he growled. He snatched her arm and tossed her away. She cried out as she lost her balance and toppled by the side of the road. A gasp resounded from onlookers, but nobody moved. Most of those around were women or children, too afraid to help.

William jumped up, dropping the napkin, and gripped the bars. "Hey!" he shouted. "Don't you fucking touch her!" He pressed his face against the bars, a burning rage as hot as the sun flaring within.

The guard gave the woman one last kick in the gut before returning to the carriage. William's nostril's flared and his knuckles grew white around the bars. "You are a dirty bastard," he spat at the returned guard.

He watched as the woman groaned by the road, a crumpled body of abused kindness. His hands fell, and he returned to his sitting position, powerlessness dragging his spirit deep within himself.

"What happened?" said Swift yawning.

William picked up the dropped napkin, the crumbs now spread through the old hay. Most of it though remained intact. "The woman slid this through and got beaten for it," he said. He handed half to Swift.

"The public are not meant to feed prisoners," said Swift. "Then again the guards usually feed the prisoners now and then." His gaze flicked like a spark from flint towards the guards.

He shoved the entire half in his mouth and closed his eyes. The sweetness melted on his tongue but refused to move. He lurched forward as he struggled to swallow. Gagging, he spat out the mushed mess into his hand.

William shook his head, but the faintest smile twitched on the corner of his lips. He ate slowly, savouring the vanilla that played on his tongue. The last moment he saw Elysia, sagging in the guards' arms, replayed endlessly in his mind. He had fought all he could as they dragged him and Swift to the awaiting caged carriage. The entire first day he had raged until his throat was sore and hoarse and his body exhausted. Now, his fire had dimmed but would burn until he got her back or died trying.