Page 15 of Twisted Bonds

six

Callum

The layers upon layers of these rocks never cease to amaze me, each one telling a story etched in the lines and patterns on its surface. How many millions of years ago did this mighty mountain take shape? The mere thought of that depth of time is humbling, as I lie beneath this ancient wonder.

Was it before, even, The War of the Gods? Does this mountain know the touch of Chromeus? Perhaps this mountain is where he stood and made his greatest decision: to end the life of his own child. A rogue agent amongst the Gods, working to unseat his father and causing dissent among the others.

I picture him, with his flowing white beard and gnarled Staff of Power, atop the snowy peaks above. Did he know that his decision that day would ultimately lead to the downfall of his family, the Chromatic Gods? Sure, they’re still puttering around the Holy Isle, but their days of greatness are long over.

An involuntary hum rolls through my chest. My fingers trace a thin vein of copper trailing just beside my worn cot, which squeaks beneath my shifting weight. Even after so much time in this dungeon, I can’t help but marvel at its cool, unyielding texture. I sink into the old cushion, once again debating the merits of asking Tairyn for a notebook and pen to jot down my observations on the strata. My musings of the past.

A lump of stone forms in my chest at the idea of asking that monster for anything. Besides, he’d probably use the notes against me somehow. Better to never give him a peek into the inner workings of my mind.

Footsteps echo outside the cramped space of my prison cell, stirring the silence. I glance at the half-eaten tray from my midday meal discarded against the iron door of the otherwise stone cavern. It’s too soon for them to return with dinner. My ears twitch to listen closer. Not one, but two sets of footsteps, a chorus of boots against stone. But beyond that, there’s something else dragging beside them.

Suddenly, an odd sensation creeps up my arm. The faint whisper of magic, cold and slippery. Curiosity piqued, I roll over to peer through the metal bars of my door, waiting for them to approach my cell. As far as I know, I’m the only prisoner he’s ever taken. The lone occupant of this level.

“He said to make her comfortable,” says a chuckling guard I’ve come to call Yellow Teeth.

Her? Now, I must know what is going on.

Short and scarred, Yellow Teeth’s cruelness seems only second to his stench. Grunty simply huffs an agreement. In all my time in this cell, I’ve never heard him say a word despite my many attempts to pull him into a conversation.

I hurry to the door just in time to see them dragging a feminine body between them, but her features are hidden between the two dullards. I try to catch a hint of her scent after they’ve passed, but it’s obscured by Grunty and Yellow Teeth. There’s also a hint of Tairyn and something else vaguely familiar, but I can’t place my finger on it.

There’s some quick shuffling in the cell next to mine as they drag his newest prisoner inside and lock the door.

“She looks comfy to me, eh?” Yellow Teeth jokes before turning on his heels.

“Who is that?” I call to them as they pass, my voice hoarse from disuse.

Grunty kicks the door to silence me, but I can’t quell this curiosity. “Tell me.”

I cringe at the pathetic plea on my lips. What have these months of captivity turned me into?

“No talkin’, no noise,” Yellow Teeth grinds out, his raspy voice bouncing down the stone hallway. They retreat without another word, leaving me in the chilling silence that follows them.

The faint whisper of magic tingles at my fingertips again. My palms press against the cold stone floor as I inch closer to the wall adjoining our cells. I pause, listening. Nothing, just the steady drip of water somewhere in the distance.

Then, a soft whimper breaks through the quiet.

“Hello?” My voice is barely audible before being swallowed by the dense emptiness. A moment of silence is my only answer. Determined, I press my ear against the cool metal door, straining to catch any sound from the other cell. I hear a soft whimper, shrouded in a shuffling noise, as if someone is trying to tiptoe.

“Are you alright?” I wince at my own stupidity. Of course, she’s not alright. She’s in Tairyn’s dungeon.

Silence.

“Can you hear me?” I try again, my voice low, trying to cut through the stillness that has settled around us. A soft, tentative voice emerges from the darkness. “Who… who are you?”

Her voice is frail, barely above a whisper, and it seems it’s all she can do to ask the question. For some reason, hearing her speak ignites a spark of hope within me, along with a sinking suspicion of who this female might be. To Tairyn. And to me.

My heart races, fear and dread about everything and nothing all at once. I open my mouth to reply, but the words die at the tip of my dry tongue. Surely, Tairyn wouldn’t stoop so low as this.

The voice, stronger this time, more alert as if finally waking up, calls out. “Sunder? Is that you?”

Something twists in my chest at being called another male’s name. I swallow the pangs of something incomprehensible and force myself to croak out an answer. “My name is Callum.”

“Do you know where they took Sunder or Bobble? Two large fae warriors who were with me.”

---