Kingdom Come {END OF AN AGE -- BOOK 1}

: chapter 13 | clean :

Before Max even had the time to voice his inquiries the doors behind him opened, letting light flood into the room. The young boy, who had gotten a little closer to Max, let out a screech as the light met his gaze, and he staggered back while attempting to cover his eyes. The pale blue chain suddenly pulled at the kid's neck, dragging him backwards as he let out a strangled scream. 

Instinctively, Max forced himself up and lunged after the boy. He managed to jump past him and grab a hold of the chain, pulling against it in an attempt to help stop it from choking the boy. However, as he pulled, the chain began to burn his hands, and as a bit of smoke rose from his closed palms, he sucked in a quick breath, trying not to let go, though the pain soon became too great, and he had to let go. He let out a gasp of pain as the boy was dragged the rest of the way to the center of the room. 

Max held his burned hands close to his chest. He could feel the burning pain stretching across his palms and fingers, and he shut his eyes tight for a moment, gritting his teeth. After a few moments, he forced his attention away from the pain, so he could instead focus on the boy. However, before he could take more than a few steps forward, he heard footsteps behind him. Max glanced back, eyes narrowing against the light as he turned towards it. He could see the outlines of two guards entering the large chamber, shoes thumping against the compacted dirt floor. 

"Clean! Clean!" Max opened his eyes when he heard screeching coming from the center of the room. His eyes shot over to the boy, who had fresh wet streaks running down his dirty cheeks. "Man clean!" The small child shouted once more, before whimpering softly. 

Max forced himself to stand straighter, ignoring the confusion at what the boy had shouted, instead glowering at the men that approached him. He took a few steps backwards, dull anger making his chest tight. Max wanted to fight them, which was a strange thing for the normally calm man to want. If it weren't for the pain in his now-burnt hands, he probably would've, but instead he just glared at the two guards. He didn't recognize either, which led him to believe that they worked directly under the king, which made little to no sense considering the sorcerer held behind him. 

The ginger-haired soldier waited to be grabbed as the guards reached him, and he grunted when they took him up under the arms, gripping him tightly. They began to drag him out of the room, rather forcefully. The guard on the right had managed to press his thumb into one of the pressure points under his arm, and pain flashed through his shoulder. He just gritted his teeth, not bothering to react in a way that might instigate or be humorous to the assholes dragging him along. 

In his pain and anger, the halls began to pass by him without him even registering them. Before Max knew it, he was once more in a room, though this one was smaller and decently lit. Someone stood at the other end of the room, but before Max could identify who it was, he was thrown to the dirt floor. He landed with a thud, hands still tied together in front of him. He grunted, coughing a little as dust flew up and into his face. He gritted his teeth but said nothing. He didn't move, and after a few moments harsh hands grabbed him under the arms and lifted him to his knees. 

As his eyes adjusted to the light he was able to identify the man before him—General Sharp. The general was glaring down at him, face otherwise unreadable. His gaze shifted to the guard to Max's right, the only one not holding him up. "What were the results?" His voice wasn't booming like Max was accustomed to, instead it was low and void of emotion. 

"Clean." The ginger was still oblivious as to what that meant, and it frustrated him. He shifted his weight to sit back but was forced back up again. He growled a few curses back at the guards, before glaring back at Sharp. 

"What the hell do you mean by cl—" before he could even finish his sentence, one of the guards kicked him in the back—hard—and sent him flying forward into the ground again. This time when his face made contact with the earth, he could taste the iron in his mouth, and he groaned, rolling slightly as he tried to ignore his throbbing back. Max was lifted back up to his knees, and the man was met by Sharp's emotionless gaze. 

"You lack magic. That's what it means." He sounded almost disappointed before he looked back at the guards holding him. "You're positive?" Max assumed the guard had nodded, because the general just sighed before stepping back. He almost chuckled, weirdly enough. They couldn't execute him, not if he wasn't a sorcerer. All they could do was hold him, which was the most likely scenario. However, something in the general's eye told him he wasn't going to be that lucky. 

"Take him out with the girl. If anyone asks, both of their tests came back positive." Sharp turned away, and Max's blood ran cold. He'd expected it. Something in him knew this would happen, but that didn't make it any less startling. This was the man who was supposed to lead the forces to protect this city, to protect the law, and yet here he stood—corrupt. Rage boiled deep inside of Max, and he began to struggle against the arms holding him up. 

"You bastard!" He shouted through gritted teeth, when a bag was suddenly thrown over his head. He continued struggling, at one point so much so that the guards had to let him go, and he hit the dirt with a grunt. Finally, they grabbed him again, and managed to forcefully pull him to his feet. He felt one of their warm breathes on his ear. 

"Keep fighting and your sister won't make it past the market." Immediately, Max stopped, breathing heavy as he fought to calm down. He wouldn't let them hurt his sister, he wouldn't let them touch her. 

A moment after he stopped struggling, the guards began dragging him once more, taking him down the corridors again. He stumbled a little as they walked, the lack of sight making it harder to place his feet steadily at their brisk pace. As they approached what he assumed was outside, due to the light that he could see through the fibers of the sack on his head, he was passed off. He was tempted to try and hit one of them as the guard's arms left his own, but knew that if he did, he could put his sister in danger—though at this point getting killed in a barred wagon was probably less embarrassing than the inevitable demise he faced at the gallows. Before he could move however, new arms grabbed him, and his window closed. 

He sighed as he was dragged once more towards the barred wagon he knew was at the end of this trail. Max was only walked a minute or two before a gruff voice spoke up, muffled by the sack around his head. 

"Get up there." Max gritted his teeth as he was hoisted up into the wagon once more being practically thrown onto the hay strewn floor. He heard a gasp, before he someone helped him sit against the wall. The warm hands now on his arms were familiar. Shelby. 

Before he could say anything, a hand reached through the bars and yanked the sack off his head, in the process slamming Max's head against the bars. The former soldier let out a strew of curses but couldn't turn to see who had done it before the wagon started moving. He hesitated, before looking back at his sister's face. Her long brown hair was half in front of her face as her wide eyes watched him. He couldn't help but to feel a bit guilty. 

"I'm sor—umphf—" he grunted as he was suddenly enveloped in a hug. After the shock had passed, he hesitantly let his arms wrap around her. His sister took in a shaky breath. 

"Don't apologize." That was all she said, and they remained in each other's embrace as the wagon made its way through the city, heading towards the gallows and their inevitable demise.