The Crimson Party

Chapter 15

Thomas was tempted to speak to Grendel, as they stood again in the dark halls of the Black House, but knowing how loud she would inevitably be, he decided not to. With the pain in his hand now a dull throbbing, instead of the overwhelming snap that it was, he was distracted, and his eyes strayed in the dark, and his ears strained in the silence. He heard a grumbling, and realised that it was his stomach, he put his good hand over his midsection, and felt his own ribs, prominent and bruised.

It was then that Grendel wordlessly pulled a loaf of bread from somewhere within the leathers that she wore, and held it out to him. Thomas looked at the loaf, and then her.

"No" he said.

Grendel furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, and opened her mouth to speak. Thomas groaned in the dark before she could, and made a gesture calling for silence.

"Fine. No need for talk." He grabbed the loaf. It was still warm, and as he broke it in half, it gave the crackle of a loaf made that very same day. Thomas breathed in the smell of it. The interior was thick yet airy and his knees shook as he took his first bite. Even then he ate carefully, small bites, mouth closed, slow.

He finished one half and almost began with the second, until he heard a thud from inside the room, where Egil and Matild were. He pocketed the second half of bread and made for the door, but then Egil spoke from behind it.

"All is well, no need to enter."

Thomas wished to enter anyway, he planned to enter anyway. But something was wrong, his instincts warned him not to. He instead thought of their escape, and stared at Grendel. Egil opened the door himself a few minutes later. To Thomas, it had felt like an hour.

When Egil came back to their dark passageway, the arrows in his back were gone. So were all signs of pain from his body. As the door closed behind him on its own, there was no sign of Matild. Thomas was unsure, but in the dark, his skin seemed more flush, and there was a coy spring in his step. He seemed to no longer need to lean on his pilfered metal rod, which he set aside on the wall. He held a bundle of cloth, which he then unwrapped. It held a number of large and sharpened knives, Egil smiled.

Thomas chose a long serrated knife, Grendel chose two cleavers, Egil grabbed his metal staff again, and tied the sharpest carving knife to the end of it, his makeshift spear shone wickedly in what light there was in the dark.

"What of Matild?" Thomas asked, and as they moved down the path, to his left, he could still hear the muted sounds of the escaped prisoners and their battle; with any luck, they would distract the guards until he'd made his escape.

"I made sure of her," Egil replied, "she won't talk."