The Ivory Killer (DISCONTINUED)

-Chapter Eleven-Aron

Chapter 11, my friends! Also, above is a sketch of Aron, like promised! See the A/N below for some more information about updates.

I was tired.

The simple statement wouldn't seem to leave me alone; I was so tired. My eyes stung, and my muscles ached, and everything was hurting. Laying on the ground probably didn't help, and now that I was more conscious to be aware of it, it was worse.

The floor was made of solid rock and I felt slightly trapped in my corner of the cell. I was surrounded by a random selection of items. To my right was the empty cup, while I leaned my left shoulder against the wall. A slightly bloody strip of cloth lay nearby, as well. Across from me was a puddle of vomit, which I vaguely remembered making. In fact, everything was vague. There wasn't a memory for the past...however long I'd been there. The last thing I remembered was...

A lady. The lady who was with me in the first cell. She wasn't here anymore, was she? No, the killer...The Ivory Killer. That was the next thing I remembered. I remembered the shimmery potion and the tiny bottle. It was like eggs, and I hated it. Then, it was cold and hot at the same time. Then, just hot, and it didn't hold back. Mother...

I looked around the room for some clue. I swore that Mother was there; who else would have brought me water? But it couldn't be her because she was...She was wearing the blood red of Otania, which she always claimed wasn't her color, and that was true. She was a beautiful woman, but the more natural colors suited her better than the fake, dyed ones. Off topic. She wouldn't wear red, and certainly didn't own silver.

My groan was raspy and quite pathetic. The soldiers wore red and silver, too. How embarrassing.

I wanted more water. And I wanted to leave.

The wooden door suddenly slammed open and I flinched. My wish might just be answered this time! Three Otanian soldiers burst into the room, wearing the ever-present silver chainmail and red shirt. All of their swords were drawn and I pressed myself into my corner. I didn't care how I looked. Swords were bad news and my head wound from earlier throbbed in agreement.

"Careful," one of them said while the other two approached, "Remember what I said!" I recognized the one speaking as the knight who checked on me during my battle with the Ivory Killer. His sword was raised higher than the others and he looked slightly afraid. Of me? The one cowering in a corner?

I curled into the wall a little tighter. One of the soldiers whipped his sword towards my chest and I was unpleasantly reminded of my chase through the town. That game of tag had ended similarly, a sword jabbed too close to my body.

"Stand up," he commanded.

I rose to my feet and instantly decided it was a bad choice. Though the worst part of, what I assumed was a fever, was gone, some of the heat still remained. My forehead felt as if it were shoved too close to a campfire and little sparks were dancing across my brow. At the same time, goosebumps littered my arms and legs. Sweat still dampened my clothes, which clung uncomfortably to my body. And my head. My head was the worst. As soon as I stood at my full height, a crushing pain crashed over me. The knights blurred and a black vignette spread like ink through my vision. My shoulder crashed into the wall and I could barely feel it as a violent shiver shook my body. The next moment, it was hot and my fear spiked. It was happening again. The fever was coming back.

It was really going to kill me this time.

As quick as the temperature changes came, they left. I could almost imagine them cackling in delight, "Ha, tricked ya." Head rush. I slowly started sliding down against the wall because some of the dizziness hadn't faded away. My knees were weak.