The Dorston Fall [Book I in the Dorston Legacy]

Chapter 42 - Of Gods and Kings

"No no no! Please! Have mercy!"

Sammy jolted awake, groping the wall in a blind startle. The cry travelled down the long corridor outside, through the very stone and echoed around him like a haunting choir. His heart hammering, he scrambled to his feet and headed towards the door; pressing his ear to the cold metal. Faintly, he heard grunting and struggling feet, and agonising sobs.

"No no no!" the voice cried again. "Please! I beg you!"

Sammy's throat went dry. The man sounded so terrified, and so young. Whatever fate awaited him, he was putting up a great fight. He heard the captors laugh at him and bark further curses at him. His hatred for these bandits was growing by the second. What he wouldn't give to have a sword or bow right now. He would be glad to show them a thing or two. He heard a door thunder open. It was so close, beside a cell or two away from him. What were they doing?!

"Almighty Gods, who does freely pardon all who repent and turn to Them, now fulfill in every contrite heart the promise of redeeming grace-" The man's fast spoken prayers were cut off by a piercing scream.

Sammy flew back from the door, his hands over his ears. It only made it worse. His eyes tightly shut, he fell to his knees; his body running colder and colder. Let it end, he begged. Make it stop please! Let the poor sod die! No one, however corrupt and evil, deserved such torture. He believed they deserved a merciful death, a chance to leave this world in peace and without further pain. The sound cut off suddenly and the man's voice resurfaced; louder, more determined, but shaky.

"-forgive all my sins and cleanse me of an evil conscience-" His prayers once more turned to shrieks. It was met by laughter.

"The gods can't save you now!" Shouted a captor, humour in his tone as the screams intensified.

Sammy slammed his eyes tightly shut and gnawed on his bottom lip until he tasted sweet, sweet blood. Think of something else, Sammy, a voice cried. Think of something else. Try anything! So he tried. He thought of his family, of his mother's warm embraces, his brothers' smiles and laughter. He remembered the games they used to play in the Silverbell, the way his father's eyes lit up when he danced with his mother. He even thought of Matthew and Molly, their three children; his second family. They had looked out for him all his life. Then with great heartache, he thought of Katelyn; remembering how she looked by the waterfall, the sunshine in her dark hair, water dripping from her hair tips, the gorgeous glow in her cheeks. Her silver eyes, the eyes he loved so much.

Thinking of all the people, places and things he loved, his anxiety seemed to only grow. His stomach, already in knots, tightened and rolled violently. His head started to pound. His heart squeezed. His last meal was about to make an appearance, when he felt a body collide into him. A hand nipped the back of his neck; massaging the tension. Another rubbed his arm, sending soothing waves through his body.

"It's alright lad," whispered the King softly. He continued to rub his arm and back. "It's alright."

Sammy noted the genuine concern in his voice and found some comfort in it. He then focused on his breathing; taking in deep breathes and releasing them steadily. The nausea faded however stubbornly, and his heart fell steady once more. As the torture continued on around him, he concentrated on the beat of his heart, on the King's and his breath. It was crazy to feel so strong and in control when the world around you was falling into chaos but, alas, that is what Sammy felt.

Or maybe it was the King, and the Dorston might he had grown accustomed to in the past few days.

The minutes rolled by. The screams turned to sobs and cries for death. The man's courage was breaking. His faith was failing him. Whatever was being done to him- Sammy stopped; determined not to think about it. If he gave it power, he too would lose his nerve. He couldn't do that, not when there was still hope of escape; however small it seemed.