SCARRED; The Dark Tower

Chapter Twelve: The Summoning

Elvira softly touched the scar on her left cheek. Where there had been a bloody gash the day before, there was now a line of hardened blood. It still stung at her touch, causing her to cringe.

She rolled over onto her side on the cold, hard bed of her "dormitory." She had been thrown into this room years ago after being told that she was being taken to her dormitory. The word "prison cell" fit the room more properly. The entire room, lighted only by a pitiful lantern, was made of stone-- including the bed, which was really just a slab of rock-- and lacked windows or any other access to the sight of the outside world.

I am underground, she reminded herself. There would be nothing to see through a window.

It had been a week since she had been outside. And even then, they were in the deep canyons of Gardanua, so all she could see around her was rocky cliffs towering over her. That and the fact that she had had to work gruelingly made for a not-so-great outing.

Nothing had been nice since she had been captured four years ago and made a slave. Since that terrible night when she had been only eleven and had witnessed the gruesome murder of her parents...

Elvira squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lip as she felt hot tears begin to burn her eyes. She had promised herself never to think of that night again. For two years she had gone without giving a though to her lost parents. But now that she had been confined to her dormitory for reasons unknown to her, she could not keep the memories of her mother and father out of her head. She still had faint memories of climbing into bed with her parents when she had a nightmare. She could recall her father's mischievous grin when he teased her. She could still conjure up a picture in her mind of her mother's loving smile when she told Elvira stories as she combed Elvira's hair.

An involuntary sob burst from Elvira's lips. She threw her hand over her mouth and held her breath. She could not let the guards outside the door hear her. She could just see the smug smirks that would form on the elves' faces if they heard her sobs. If Elvira knew one thing about cave elves, it was that they took much delight in seeing their victims crushed, whether in physical form or in spirit. Elvira could not give them the satisfaction of her tears.

Relaxing her face, Elvira took a deep breath and, with great effort, tried to avert her mind from her parents. She hurriedly dug through her mind for a lighter subject to think about. She found that there was nothing cheerful to think about that would not bring her mind back to her parents, so she contented with thinking about the conversation she had witnessed the previous week.

Opening her eyes to stare at the shadowy ceiling, Elvira allowed her mind to fall back to the events that had landed her in her prison cell for the week.

Elvira had woken up early as usual that day. A guard had stomped into her room and hand-cuffed her hands together for extra precaution. What they expected a small, underfed girl of fifteen to do, Elvira had no idea, but nevertheless, the handcuffing had become a daily ritual to which she had slowly grown accustomed to.

As usual, Elvira had received her chunk of dry bread and small goblet of water before being marched outside. Meeting up with the rest of the cave elves' slaves, they had then marched through the treacherous canyons until they had reached the construction site. Once there, things had just gone downhill as they always had-- only, that day was not to be a normal day as a slave.

For an hour, Elvira had been forced to lift heavy stones carved from the canyon walls by the stronger of the slaves and lift wagons. Those wagons were to then be carried off to the building site, where the High King of the elves was having his extravagant palace built. Back aching, Elvira had stopped to lean against the wagon and wipe her forehead on her sleeve.