Revolutions

40 - Haesan

"Sapa, a traitor is amongst us!"

Anqatil shouts to get the Arbiter's attention, forcefully grabbing my arm and lifting me up, revealing my presence behind the bags of belongings. My heart attempts to escape my chest as he looks upon me with a mixture of alarm and anger. Panicked, I try to craft an excuse, some reason for me to be inside the throne room. But my mind is blank, only capable of imagining what peril awaits me at the hands of the ruler of our land. I can only look onto the Arbiter with fear as I await my fate.

The Arbiter works through all the possible scenarios and outcomes, looking for answers amidst the cold, stone floor and walls. Without facing me nor Anqatil, he commands as cooly as his surroundings, "take her to the cells and find out what she knows. Be discreet."

After delivering his orders, the Arbiter rises from his throne and storms out of the room, his eyes never returning to me as they remain fixed on his path ahead. I can only squeak out a plea, but my efforts are immediately stymied as Anqatil flings me around and pulls me out of the exit behind me. Her grip around my arm is like that of a python, constricting my movement and nearly causing me to lose feeling in my extremity.

We hurry through the halls, with Anqatil dragging me along while she nonchalantly strides past uninterested guards who largely ignore us as we walk by them. They maintain their focus ahead, their bronze helmets limiting the likelihood of noticing my discomfort and desperation to escape her clutches. As I'm jostled about on our way to who knows where, I cling my satchel to my hip and haphazardly encase it in some of the loose fabric of my flowing dress, hoping the ritualistic knife contained within doesn't collide with anything else inside and gives away its existence. I may have to answer for it if Anqatil goes through my belongings, though I hope it doesn't come to this.

The two of us take a sharp turn down another hallway, marching through a section of the palace to which I've never been. Small slits along the top of the walls, close to the ceiling, allow minimal light to illuminate our way. An inky darkness begins to weave around us, and as if this alone isn't enough to fray my nerves, unintelligible wails and cries grow louder the further in we go, leaving me feeling more and more isolated from the rest of the palace.

After traversing one lone, dark corridor, we arrive at a tiny, empty chamber, with a single torch casting the only light in the area. Anqatil grabs the attention of a nearby guard with a quick shout before hurling me into the room. I tumble across the floor and collide with the stone wall, my shoulder bearing the brunt of the impact as pain bolts through my arm.

Anqatil stands over me as I try to lift myself off the ground. My ribs throb abruptly, and I eventually realize I've just been kicked. Before I can clutch my side, Anqatil delivers another swift blow, and I crumple to the ground, a whimper escaping my lips. The guard hoists me up, and with him and Anqatil flanking me, I feel a sudden chill around my wrists. I look up and notice metallic clasps shackling me against the wall.

"Wha-" I can barely speak from a combination of astonishment and agony. Is this really happening to me?

"Wait for the knock," she says sternly to the guard, "and be sure that's the only sound you hear coming from this room, understood?" Before the heavy wooden door shuts behind her, I watch his head nervously bobble up and down, terror blanketing his boyish face as his eyes quickly dart between me and Anqatil. Looking over at him, I recognize my sandals and satchel in his hands, but I'm in too much distress to wonder how they obtained them, or care about him taking my belongings.

The room is shrouded in darkness, the torch from the corridor faintly lighting Anqatil's silhouette through the door's narrow window as she stands between me and the only exit from this treacherous chamber.