Page 109 of Oath of Rebellion

"Oh that? I put the spell on the cell doors to alert me when someone opened it. I knew you'd come, after the last few people have gone missing from the dungeons. You took away all my fun, but that's the last time–"

"You call this fun?" Knox grunted through gritted teeth.

The king looked over his shoulder and grinned. He tugged on the rope, and Knox stumbled onto the next step. His knee landed on the cold marble, and Gastone's fist landed in his ribs, Knox' own gravity driving the punch deeper.

Knox grunted and bent double. He would've fallen on his face if not for the burning sting of the rope biting into him. His stomach twisted from the pain and the smell of burning flesh, and he gagged.

"This is definitely fun," the king laughed.

Crunch. Knox gasped at another punch, the pain blinding him as he felt a rib crack. He blinked, shaking his head and sending blood flying.

The king jumped back, stepping up on the stairs and out of reach. "You filthy animal. How dare you? Keep your secretions to yourself."

The king narrowed his eyes and tugged hard on the rope. Knox stepped forward, barely keeping upright as he followed the king once more up the stairs.

"Speaking of secretions, did you sleep with my sister? Did she spread her legs for you like she did for every other commoner in the city? No matter, since she's finally dead," Gastone said coldly.

Anger burned in his chest, the hot flash of emotion rivaling the rope. Eirwyn might be dead, but Knox wouldn't let him besmirch her memory. He wiggled his fingers at his sides, straining to call forth vines from outside.

"Don't talk about her like that," Knox growled, his fingers lengthening into claws at his sides.

The king held the rope in one fist and let it lengthen into a whip. He grabbed it with his other hand and swung it slowly in a circle as he talked.

"You think you're special?" Gastone snorted.

You're a piss poor leader of a ragtag band of rebels. You may claim to be a drakin, but I can see why you'd wear a hood in town. You're quite the ugliest thing I've ever seen."

Knox straightened slightly as they reached a landing, trying to relieve the pressure on his rib. "Shows just how much you know."

Knox wiggled his fingers, pulling the vines toward the narrow window. The king stopped, turning to face him with a flash of excitement across his face as the rope flashed through the air.

Crack. The dangling part of the rope whipped across his thighs, making him jerk.

"I know everything I need to. I'm the most powerful and well-trained mage in the land. I'm the Buspartan drakin king. You're nothing but a commoner, a filthy peasant who likes to sleep in the mud and dirt and filth."

Knox gritted his teeth, determined not to give the bastard the satisfaction of a response.

"You're pathetic, attacking me unarmed," Knox spit blood on the floor and stepped back, away from the king. The rope pulled taut, then the burning rope slapped across his cheek, making his teeth rattle.

"I believe you have it backward. You're the pathetic sorry excuse for a drakin. Just look at you."

Knox tried to ignore his words, but they cut deep. This was why he'd hidden himself in the forest all these years, only coming into the city with his features heavily cloaked.

"Whatever does Eirwyn see in you? It must be the appeal of the macabre."

The king swung the rope again, the burning coil lashing across his chest. Knox hissed and stiffened, then the king followed with a solid punch to the gut.

Knox bent over, wheezing. He crept the vines over the windowsill and slowly along the wall toward the king's back.

"Pathetic indeed. You're nothing but a weakling. I can't believe you actually pose a threat, but the mirror's never been wrong before."

He couldn't give in. He had to take care of Eirwyn, even if it was just her empty shell of a body. He had to protect the forest, save the people from this madman and make Eirwyn proud.

Shouting and clanging echoed through the stairs, and Knox smiled. "Ah, phase two. The people are tired of your tyranny."

Gastone's eyes widened, and his lips went tight with anger. Knox wiggled his fingers at his side, and the vines wrapped around the king's ankles, pulling his feet out from under him. He slammed into the floor and dropped the magical rope, and Knox strained once more.

The burning rope unraveled and disappeared in a puff of smoke. Knox dove at the king just as a fireball engulfed the vines. They rolled on the landing in a flashing ball, flames shooting from the king with every punch Knox delivered.

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