Page 34 of Warlords, Witches & Wolves

The light stopped outside the door, a small crack allowing it to penetrate into the room an inch or two. Keys jangled. Ragnar yelled again.

“I’m going to kill you, Absolon, before you kill me.”

The lock didn’t turn.

“You’re a coward, Absolon. You can’t even face me like a man!"

The key turned and the door opened a few inches for the dog to run in as an advance guard.

Ragnar lowered his hand and whispered to the dog. Soon its muzzle was at his open palm, its wet tongue slobbering over his hand. Such a good dog. Ragnar grabbed it by the scruff and brought it close to his side, bringing out the crude pewter blade and holding it to the dog’s neck. He crouched and waited, the dog’s tail wagging. Ragnar’s hold stayed firm.

The door opened and a lantern cast Absolon’s long shadow into the cell.

“What are you doing?” Absolon’s voice was a growl that raised the hair on Ragnar’s arms.

“Do not come any closer or I’ll cut its throat.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

He crushed the dog and pushed the blade harder against its windpipe. The dog whimpered. “I would. Now throw me the keys, or I’ll cut your dog’s head off then nothing in this world will love you.”

Absolon’s breath labored, his shoulders rose and fell, his chest expanded like bellows. Because of the light, his features remained in shadow but there was no mistaking his fists and the gathering rage.

“You’re wasting time, Absolon. Throw me the keys and walk away. Once I’m free, then I’ll let it go. Do you understand me? That’s an order!"

Absolon’s breathing quickened. Ragnar opened his mouth to again demand he be let loose and shout above the heavy beat of his heart in his blood, but Absolon roared and charged him.

He didn’t have time to threaten the dog again. He let go and raised the blade in defense, but no sooner had he got it up than Absolon drove him into the wall. He held him there, pinned by his upper arms, his strength nothing short of monstrous, and bellowed into his face. He slammed Ragnar against the wall, knocking the wind out of him and cracking his head on the stone.

Stars twinkled in his eyes as his head lolled back and forth. Absolon was going to crush him. He readied to slam him again. His spine was going to break. He couldn’t get the breath to plead for his life, even if it could have infiltrated Absolon’s berserker fit. Absolon readied him for another blow.

Here it comes.

The dog’s whining and whimpering shut Absolon’s mouth and paused his throttling. He dropped Ragnar and ran to the animal, but it fled from his master’s hand and out the door as fast as it could run, tail tucked between its legs.

“Trogen?” Absolon called softly and ran after it, leaving the door ajar.

Collapsed in an aching heap on the floor, Ragnar rolled towards the exit, spying the lantern that illuminated his prison and his only way out, but the door may as well have been locked and barred for the impossibility of him being able to use it. Dull pain trundled through his body like a wagon, kicking up sharp stones that made him twitch. He took shallow breaths; it hurt to breathe too deep and too long. He didn’t move.

And in the distance, Absolon’s voice grew softer as he begged for Trogen’s return.

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