Hell on Earth (Boyxboy)

Chapter 21: Hallucinations

21

34BCE

Fadriel awoke, his senses numbed, an uncomfortable pressure on him. Opening his eyes, the fae groaned.

Rubble.

"Ughhm." He coughed out, the magik's usually steadfast voice quivering as he choked on the clotting dust that caked his face, nose and mouth.

Trying to move his arms up to remove the rocks and wood atop him, Fadriel realized with a sinking feeling that escape would require using magik.

And that meant revealing his true form to the village-people.

I can go to the other side of the Roman Empire. The fae thought reluctantly. He enjoyed this quaint town. Leaving would be upsetting. Staying after his magik was revealed, though, would be deadly. Maybe Egypt, instead.

While musing about his next destination of stay, Fadriel spread out his mind, relaxing, then focusing on the mass above him, shoved.

Nothing happened.

Another attempt at a mental shove.

Fadriel had a sinking feeling. A sudden claustrophobia, so unlike a fae's nature, over took him. His magik wasn't working. He was stuck.

The pressure of the rocks suddenly shoved into him as the sickening realization engulfed him.

That charm..

It took magik.

***

Fadriel sat on the wooden plank at the back of the buggy, miserably trying to stop his bleeding nose, with both his hands chained together, and likewise chained to his feet.

On each side of, and across from, him was an armed guard.

Fadriel was going to Rome.

He had laid under that rubble for less than twenty minutes. Villagers had pulled him out- mostly unscathed.

That didn't last for long, though.

Evidently, the Charmer had told some of the towns members exactly what the stolen charm was, and that Fadriel must be a magik. Maybe, if the blast had not killed nine people, including the twins, then the townspeople would've reacted differently.

But as it had been, nine people were dead.

Dead because of Fadriel.

The town had wanted blood. The only thing that saved Fadriel from being beaten to death was the fact that the Gods' Guards had been called to take the fae away. They ended up arriving just in time to cut the rope around his neck.

Fadriel's mood depressed as he systematically went through his body, checking to see how badly he was damaged.

Broken, bloodied nose, cracked rib at least, sprained wrist, displaced (then painfully popped back by a guard) shoulder, forming black eye, profuse bruising, especially around the neck.

Fadriel sensitively moved his hands to his neck, feeling where it was raw and painful from the rope-burn.

It was not going to be a good day.

***

17 BCE

Cassius watched as Fadriel fell silent. His light eyes were fixed on another time, and another place.

The room they were in was smouldering by now, the hot sun above turning the packed jail into an oven. A man, greying, has slouched over. No one bothered to see if he was alive.