Time's Running Out

Time's Running Out

Sirion looked around his cell. He wondered why he was the only one taken away from the other captives. He hoped none had died yet. He wanted to save them. Save them all. Bring them back to Eldor. But he sadly knew he could never save every single prisoner.

He layed his head back against the wall, light shining on his bloodied and cut up face. Sirion has a huge gash just above his eyebrow. Bruises all over. Many small cuts. Blood was running down the side of his face. He didn't care. He just wanted out. He wanted out or he would die. And soon. Time was running out for Sirion. And fast.

His Elven speed. Gone. His ability to fight. Not there. His sparkling smile. A dull frown. His beautiful, dark brown eyes. Just plain brown eyes full of pain and sadness.

He wanted oh so badly to leave. To be free. Free from this horrible place he was in. He hated it. He thought of his uncle back in Silnar. He thought of Elandir and Elmorhirian in Elimar. Halandor and Torick, wherever they may be, he thought of them. He thought of Lord Darian. The new king to the throne of Minarald, the capital city. But most of all, he thought of Makilien.

He missed her the most. He wanted to be wherever she was. Whether it be Minarald or all the way back in Reylaun. He didn't even care if he was in prison again. He just wanted to be with her.

Just as he was about to try to sleep, a loud, harsh voice sounded. "Half-Elf!! It is your time to go!"

That's it. He thought. I will die...

A guard came and opened Sirion's cell door. He was the one with the harsh voice. "Get up." he said.

Sirion was way too weak to stand. He tried his best but fell back in a crumpled heap. The guard yanked him upright on his feet. Sirion's knees buckled but the guard held him up.

Just then two Shaikes appeared.

"Take him to the post." the guard said. And the Shaikes yanked Sirion forward.

He tried putting up as much of a fight as he could but he was just too weak. They were getting closer and closer to the post. Sirion would be whipped even more. He thought he may die this time.

The Shaikes shoved Sirion forward and he stumbled and fell. The first Shaike, who had really dark hair, grabbed him and tied him to the post. The second Shaike, who was bald, took the whip off the wall and very slowly and menacingly stalked toward Sirion.

"Give him double of yesterday's," a voice boomed.

Double?! Sirion KNEW he would die. He would be getting 48 lashes. With the condition he was already in, he was sure to die.

The Shaikes chuckled and the bald one raised the whip and brought it down hard onto Sirion. He winced, trying not to give them the pleasure of the amount of pain he was in. He had to stay strong. The pain kept coming and coming. He felt like he was about to black out. More and more pain erupted though his body. He felt warm, gooey blood run down his back. A lot more than the other days he's been whipped. The whip hit his face and he cried out. Instantly hating it!

The Shaikes chuckled with pleasure and went back to hitting him. By now, there was so much blood. It was everywhere. He was positive today would be his last day ever.

The Shaikes went far over their limit. No voice sounded for them to stop. Of course, he thought. How could I be so stupid to think that voice would tell them to stop.

The Shaikes didn't stop. They kept whipping him. He was in the most physical pain he has ever felt in his life! His last thought was of Makilien. Then everything went black.