On the Wrong Side

Chapter 7

Myerdden awoke to a sharp kick in the ribs. He saw a cup of water being pushed into his cell after the guard had left. He drank it up quickly before attempting to sit up. One week had passed since his imprisonment. He had eaten nothing and drank only water. As he stared at his fingers, an idea popped into his head. 

He took his forefinger between his teeth and bit down. He then tried to pull out his finger. It straightened and he did the same to the remaining fingers. He healed them before moving onto his wrist. He grabbed his hand and pulled hard. It hurt but it looked more like a wrist afterwards. Healing spells took up a lot of his energy and his ribs didn't help.

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He was woken up to many kicks and punches. He let them do what they wanted before looking over his injuries. It was harder to breath and the bruising looked worse. Myerdden could see lumps in his skin signalling bones trying to force their way out. He coughed experimentally and triggered a coughing fit. He tried to even out his breathing and got the coughs somewhat under control. He had two options: try to set his ribs and hop he didn't make it worse, or drown in his own blood. He chose the former.

Myerdden attempted to set his ribs and semi-succeeded. At least it didn't look like his ribs were trying to escape. On the other hand, he was wasting precious energy.

The next week followed the same routine. A kick in the followed by a cup of water. He would sleep only to be beaten later. Myerdden would heal what he could and wait for his next cup of water. He got two or three cups a day.

Around the third week, he got a surprise. There was bread with was stale and slightly moldy but he needed any form of energy he could get. He wolfed it down and savored the water. He would see if there was bread tomorrow.

There was bread the next day and he silently rejoiced. He looked out of the barred window and waited for night.

When night fell,  he sent up the signal and hoped that Loholt was keeping watch during the night as well. He heard the sounds of marching men and clanking armor. He heard the bells and watched the guards run out to recieve orders. Myerdden unlocked his door with a quick spell and stumbled out to where he last saw his gear. He pulled on his shirt as quickly as he could before he slung his bow over his back, tied his quiver and scabbard to his waist and strapped his knives to his arms. He tried to run as quickly as possible, but it was a slow, limping walk.

He was out in the moonlight now. He smelled and heard the Draak before he saw them. He froze. 
"The horrible clicking was growing louder. The stench was even worse." "No. Stop it. Stop it!" The memory continued. "They were right over him. He lay perfectly still. He didn't even dare to breathe. They continued to look around before walking out of the house." He broke free of the memory and did his best to keep it at bay while he stumbled to the healer's tent.

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Loholt was talking with Gahvi. They had been friends before they even started training. It was around midnight and it was their turn to watch for the signal. He remembered how they had first met.

Loholt had snuck out of the castle to explore. He was five but knew the importance of knowing your kingdom. He was sneaking around  when someone tapped him on the shoulder. It was a brown haired villager about his age.

"Excuse me, but I need to get by."

'What's this? No bow?' Yes. Loholt remembered. He had been a brat then. 'Maybe I should teach him a lesson.'

"No. Go a different route. I'm here."

"This is the only route."

"Then too bad. You can't pass." Gahvi had thrown the first punch. This had infuriated Loholt and he punched back. They began to wrestle across the grass. No one minded. They probably thought they were just playing.