Caesaria

XVII

The locks clicked, slid, ground against the metal of their keepings. With a thunderous thud, it flew against the wall, it's cavity blasting the room with a flickering glow. Axel flinched away, turning his grimy, greasy face into his shoulder. A man's shadow loomed over him, the only thing that blocked the light.

"Close the door. I shouldn't be long," the familiar voice said. The door creaked shut, but the light never left. He could hear the crackling of fire, feel the heat of it as his company crouched before him.

"I've come to tell you my sister's alive," he said. "Due in no small part to you, or so she says. Seems you might've told me the truth."

Axel opened his eyes slightly. The man was large, even crouched. Black hair, shaved at the sides, although he was blurry. Axel supposed it could've been a common style among the Georgians, but he made his best guess at who he spoke to. "Ah. You again," the prisoner nodded. "So you're her brother, then. Son of the chief."

The man said nothing, but it was enough. "She asked me to thank you, Outlander."

"Hmm. She is very kind."

"She is. Kinder than me, anyway."

"You must think highly of her to tell me this. I somehow doubt your father would approve."

"You know nothing of the man. Or her, " the Georgian hissed. "Don't presume."

"I don't presume. Especially that this changes what your father will do to me."

"If my father chooses to kill you, it'll be your own fault. Outlanders like you should know better than to enter our lands."

He snorted. He could see the man a bit better now, looming over him. His thin lips were pursed tightly, squinted eyes unyielding, alight. His copper skin shone like rust in the torchlight, enough to make him flinch away even more. "Yes, I gather that. Yet I must insist I meant no harm."

"Your presence is harmful enough."

"Are all Georgian's this xenophobic?"

The Georgian cocked his brow, unimpressed, and clearly annoyed.

"Xenophobic. It means you don't like people who aren't you."

He shook his head. "You're a condescending little prick, aren't you?"

Axel smirked. "Now, there's no need for name-calling."

The Georgian gave Axel one last glare. "Your trial will be held soon. Make peace with your gods. If you have any." The tribal banged at the door a couple times, and once again, it flung open.

"And you with yours," Axel said to the Georgian who left him in the dark. His eyes found relief in the formless black; the shadows, long ago, had become his friend.