The Serpent's Chains

Chapter 17: Interrogation

Author Note: This chapter contains descriptions of violence and torture that may be upsetting to some readers. 

Cole

"Has he said anything?"

Wyatt circled the mage prisoner, bound to the wooden chair. His sword and chest armor were near the tent flap. He wore a surly look as he circled the mage, arms crossed.

"He hasn't. I think he believes his comrades will be coming for him."

I frowned. "That's not going to happen."

"Ha! You're telling me that one man and a dumb beast took out five elite mages?" the prisoner spat, leaning forward and straining his bonds.

I sighed and shook my head. "They really don't teach their mages anything in Stivalia." I cracked my knuckles and stood in front of the mage. "I suppose it is time for a lesson."

He tilted his head back, green eyes wild and bright. They resembled the eyes of the lead mage. I took a closer look and noted the similar bone structure of his cheeks.

"Do you know who I am?" I pressed my thumb to my chest.

"Prince Cole."

"Yes, that's correct. My enemies know me as the War Dragon. Where do you think I got that reputation?"

The prisoner bowed his head and fell silent.

I glanced at Wyatt. He remained in a firm stance, observing. "Did you search him?"

"He had a vial of poison hidden behind his molar." Wyatt nodded shortly.

"Hmm, then you're willing to die to protect your secrets."

"That's right! You'll never get anything out of me."

I smirked and nodded to Wyatt. He bowed and backed out of the tent. "All that means is that I can't use death as a motivator. So, I need to find something worse than death."

Wyatt returned with a long, flat wooden box. It was polished mahogany with brass latches. He held it out to me and I ran my hand along the smooth wood surface.

"You see when someone is willing to die for their secrets, the job becomes rather easy. You're prepared to face death. What you aren't prepared to face is life, a very painful, drawn-out life."

I flipped the box lid open and pulled out ten needles, several inches in length and as thick as a small stick. Their points gleamed in the low lantern light of the tent. I held one up and waved it back and forth in front of my prisoner.

"You think a little pinprick will get me to talk!?" He snarled and struggled against his rope bindings.

Some mages would be able to break out of a knot like that with no problem, but I knew how these elite teams operated. They always left the weakest, least talented mage behind to guard the camp so the stronger ones could focus on the threat.

At least, he believed that his comrades were dead, or he'd be trying harder to escape.

"You should wait to see where I prick you," I smirked and nodded to Wyatt.

He untied one of the mage's arms and held it long. He gripped the mage's elbow and wrist.

"Now, what would compel you and your elite mages to wipe out an entire encampment without provocation?"

"Hmph."

I arched an eyebrow at Wyatt.

"You should give him a little more time to answer," Wyatt suggested.