The Dragon Games

The Dungeons

I peeled my cheek off the cold stone floor, my head pounding, my surroundings a blur of gray blobs. Slowly, my vision returned to reveal an underground dungeon. Well if I wasn't awake before, I was now.

I sat up with a start, whipping my head around the confines of my cell. There was a piss bucket in the corner, a trail of cockroaches running along the bars, and a small mountain of metal fixed to my skin. Cuffs shackled my wrists and ankles, and smaller rings bound my fingers together, preventing me from making any motions that could summon the divine. 

I wriggled my wrists, testing the cuff's strength, and the angry red wound cutting across the back of my forearm pulsed, its surrounding skin still pink and tender. Judging by how little it had healed, I couldn't have been out for long, a few days at most.

Suddenly, the door creaked, and a knight descended the dungeon steps, the torch lights reflecting off his bald head. He must have been at least fifty, but with his broad shoulders and square jaw, looked stronger than most knights do in their prime. A dragon was carved into his silver breastplate, its wings spread to form the shape of a crown – the king's sigil.

"I'm Leon Bates," he said. "Commander of the Sword Brethren."

"Bates?" I rasped. My throat was dry and cracked. There was not much to drink in the cell, aside from the dirty puddle. "You wouldn't happen to be Elio Bates' father, would you? Y'know, the boy who put on raider's garb to sneak attack me? Too bad the raiders are done for. He would have made a great addition to our ranks."

His lip curled. "Dishonorable people do not deserve honorable combat. Do you know how long it took your friends to turn on you?"

"They're not my friends."

"Don't try to lie to me. I know who you are. Better yet, I know who you're not."

I raised my eyebrow, lost. Are we doing riddles now?

"Nine is just a ruse to hide your true identity," he continued. "You're the raider known as Crenshaw's pet."

I leaned back against the cell wall, examining my four-fingered hand. "All a ruse? I must be really committed to the bit."

"Do you deny that you are Crenshaw's Pet?"

"I'm not a dog," I said. 

The alias started in rival gangs, then spread to the public and stuck to me like glue. After Sammy disappeared, Drax threatened to cut out the tongue of any raider that used it, viewing it as a slight on his authority – the first and last decent call he made as captain. 

As much as I liked Sammy, I never liked being known as some soppy wagtail trailing after his heels.

"Do you deny it?" Leon said. Apparently, he would keep barking until I answered the question.

I shot him a sour look. "Obviously not." Drax and Sammy were long gone; what other raider could bend metal and levitate multiple guards at once?

"What's your true name?" Leon said.

I stared into the darkness of my cell, making my face unreadable. I had no weapons, no divine, no friends to fall back on. My only leverage was information, and I'd be a fool to give it out freely.

"I would be willing to work out a deal with you," Leon said. "In exchange for your cooperation with my questioning, you will not be sentenced to death. You will be sentenced to fifty years of hard labor and The Bind."

My stomach clenched as I recalled the victims of The Bind wandering the slums, sleeping on the streets, and begging for scraps of food. It was a rare sight, because the divine is such a coveted skill that only the worst offenders receive The Bind – and most of them choose execution anyway, considering death the kinder fate.

"So in addition to fifty years of hard labor, you will sever my hands and blind me?" I said. "How does one do hard labor without any eyes or hands?"

Leon afforded me a generous smile. "You may keep either your hands or your eyes. I'll even allow you the privilege of deciding which."

"How many of the others have agreed?"

"The others did not have the chance to accept my deal. They could not provide satisfactory answers to my question, so they were sent to the gallows."

I stopped short, my breath catching in my chest. "Already?"

"Each and every one of them."

I swallowed hard, forcing my voice back into an even tone. "And what question did you ask them?"

"Samuel Crenshaw. Where is he?"

I shut my eyes, feeling a thousand pounds heavier. Even if I knew where Sammy was, the information did me no good. I had been thrown into enough dungeons to know the whole song and dance of threats or rewards, loyalty or death.

 Staying silent would cost me my life, but Sammy was the last person in the world I would betray.

"I refuse," I said.

"I won't compromise on The Bind, but given good behavior, a few years might be–"

"I'm not interested in negotiating. The answer is no. I don't know where Sammy is, and even if I did, I wouldn't tell you."

His face darkened. "Need I remind you that all ten of your fellow raiders have already been executed? If you think we'll spare you just because you're young, just because the public doesn't like watching innocent-looking faces hang, think again. It's nothing a bag over your head or a few beatings can't fix."

The color drained from my face. My chest tightened, and I struggled to breathe. 

"Ten?" I gasped, my voice strangled and high. "Don't you mean eleven?" 

Fifteen raiders went on the mission. Not counting myself, and leaving out the casualties at the manor, the count should only be four raiders short.

"Ten," Leon confirmed. "As I'm sure you will be glad to hear, Drax escaped our–"

I moaned in despair, crying out as if I had been stabbed. In fact, I wish I had been stabbed. I can't believe Drax escaped. I can't believe that the man responsible for our deaths was the only one to escape punishment.

"It seems–"

"Nooooarrrrrgghhhhhheeeelllll."

"It seems—"

"Ahhhhhhhhggggggggghhhhh."

"It seems," Leon snapped, raising his voice over mine. "That the gravity of your situation has finally sunk in. Are you ready to work with me now?"

"No," I mumbled into my arm. "Let the ground swallow me whole."

"What?" Leon said, his voice incredulous.

"No," I repeated, firmer this time. "I will not work with you."

Leon grabbed the bars of my cell, dropping his voice to a menace. "Who's to say I need your cooperation? That I can't force the information out of you?"

"You can try. But you've talked to the other raiders. I'm sure they told you how I lost my finger."

Leon sneered. "Crenshaw's pet to the grave, I see."

"Do not call me that," I muttered.

"Accept my deal, raider. I will give you one more chance. Stop being a fool and accept it."

"You may as well call the torturer now. I have nothing else to say to you."

There was a long, heated pause. Rage practically radiated from Leon in waves. 

"Fine," he growled. He turned to the door and shouted, "She's all yours!"