A foot rammed into Rawn’s stomach. He gasped at the breath torn from him, and he choked on bile and sand.
“Enough.” A sharp voice barked. There was a sudden thud, and Grod hit the ground next to him. “If you kill him before we get any answers, I will lop off your head.”
Grod scrambled back, cowering into a low bow. “F-forgive me, Your Highness.”
Rawn’s sight skewed as the sound of his heartbeat thudded in his ears, and he looked up at the red prince.
Anon’s mouth twisted with a snide smirk as he looked over the damage done to his body. “I am surprised you’re alive, though you may not have long. You reek of rot.” He pressed a finger into the hole burned into Rawn’s thigh yesterday. He moaned, jerking against his chains. “You bear a strong will to live, it would seem, but everyone breaks beneath the Blood Keep, Norrlen. Eventually.” Anon’s red cape flared out as he marched for the door. “Put him with the others. He is not to be questioned again until I say. The king and that usurper past the wall are negotiating.”
Usurper?
Rawn closed his eyes. He dared to hope that meant King Leif was bargaining for his release. Help was coming. A shudder sank through his body, and he had the urge to both laugh and cry.
“Don’t think you’re safe,” Grod growled, jabbing Rawn’s chin with his club. “I’ll have you strung up here again soon, along with that pretty wifeof yours.” He bared his yellowed teeth in a sinister grin. “You will watch as I have my way with her before I split her in two.”
Rage surged in Rawn’s veins like poison. He snatched the club and rammed it into the warden’s stomach. Grod’s eyes bulged out, wheezing for air. Grabbing his neck, Rawn shoved him into the barrel. The hunched elf clawed at him frantically, sloshing water everywhere.
Rawn held him there with some primitive strength that had surfaced from the dark pit of his soul. He would slaughter him for nothing else but saying those words.
But guards stormed in, and a club struck the back of his head again.
He drifted in and out of consciousness as they dragged him over the dirt down an unfamiliar tunnel. He only knew it was different because the stench of Bloodhound droppings and decay wasn’t as strong here. The hounds followed them, their growls and hot breath heavy on his neck. Prisoners murmured as the guards hauled Rawn past their cells and dumped him in front of another.
“Away from the door!” Grod bellowed. The Bloodhounds gutturally barked, and a shadowed figure inside moved back as he took out a set of keys and opened the cell. “Throw that sack of shit inside.”
The guards did so unceremoniously, and Rawn hit the cold ground with a ruthless thud. He laid there, struggling to breathe. Pain radiated all over his body. The cell clanged shut loudly, making him wince. Grod hawked a wad of spit at his cheek. Their laughter echoed in the tunnel until their footsteps faded away.
Rawn shut his eyes, grateful for the momentary relief from his next bout of torment.
A voice surfaced from the dark. “I surely thought you were dead.”
Rawn managed a weak smile. “I thought the same of you.”
He heard the soft clink of chains and scuffs in the dirt as a figure moved closer. The single torch on the wall provided enough light to illuminate Elon’s face. Unexpectedly, the red elf used his torn sleeve to wipe the spit from his face.
Rawn stilled at the sight of the bloodied cloth over his left eye. “What did they do to you?”
“I can live with one eye. You got the worst of it.” He rolled Rawn on his side to examine his back and made a disapproving hum. “Your wounds are beginning to fester.”
Rawn suspected as much by the smell.
“Once sepsis is in the blood, death comes swift,” Elon said, moving toward the cell door. He reached through the bars and returned with something putrid. “Hold still.”
Rawn shuddered at the horrid sensation of something crawling over his back. “I am afraid to ask.”
“Maggots. They will eat away the rot.”
Nausea rolled through his empty stomach. “I suppose I should thank you...”
Elon moved back to sit against the wall and closed his remaining eye. “I am only delaying the inevitable. Elves only come here to die.”
“A wise man knows when his time has ended. This is not where we die.”
Elon scoffed. “You are closer to death than I am, Lord Norrlen.”
“Yet I still have faith.” Rawn groaned as he laid flat on his stomach, tucking his arm under his head. He tried not to breathe in the scent of filth and urine. “I was given to understand that my king has been in contact with yours. They must be negotiating my release. I will put in a petition to take you with me.”
That drew Elon to look at him again. “What?”
