210 Gregen's Blade

"I might be the leader," Thomas heard Trak respond as a set of rusted hinges screeched until a sharp slide of a lock clicked. "But that doesn't mean I'm above doing regular tasks. I am not a noble. Besides, I like to think down here among the prisoners, where it's safe. You did make sure that every creature here was dealt with, correct?"

"Yes sir," Gregen responded, a bit of forced subservience slithering underneath his direct response.

Thomas finally realized that he was sleeping, and ever so slowly opened his eyes. Rails were wrapped completely around him to form a claustrophobic cage with a ceiling of welded metal. His knees, while slightly numb, still relayed the soreness of being held close to his chest for so long, and he didn't have the room to extend them. Cuffs with chains bound his hands to one of the iron segments of the rail, his cage, which also had a lock. He craned his neck to get a better view of the dim surroundings.

To his left and right were more cages, each with a single person covered with layers upon layers of filthy, smelly rags. Thomas was no exception.

One of many long flaps of leather behind him, which all hung down from the ceiling like laundry, flapped, and a cold breeze swept through the jagged, rocky cavern.

The only source of light in this stuffy chamber was hung in the center of the ceiling: blue fireflies, buzzing through the air only to hit against a glass barrier, a jar. Their blue light flickered on the two figures standing tall in front of the cages, Gregen and Trak. In the cracked wall behind them, was a single wooden door with a metal lock.

Thomas couldn't taste the sour of his family's poison anymore. Because he could barely move however, he knew it had already worked its way into his system.

'Gregen isn't even blinking,' Thomas thought. He opened and closed his hands to get the blood flowing again, then did the same with his feet. The pins and needles faded as he tested how far he could shift his body before the metal dug into his red, slightly torn skin.

At the jingling of chains, Gregen turned towards Thomas and shook his head, a reminder of his previous words…

"They screamed the second they had the chance to. After we stuffed them into their cells, they flinched away from bugs and kept screaming. They were annoying…I beg of you. Please, do not give it a reason."

…

'Now what?' Thomas thought, a mixture of boredom and anxiety mixing in his empty stomach. 'Frey. He would come after me, but I don't think Doevm would. I did throw spears to get almost the majority of those venomous salamanders and…my spears!'

Thomas felt around his cuffs until his fingers went found a hole, a lock. 'If only I had something to pick this thing, I could break out.' Then he scanned the metal rails, finding another keyhole just to his right, where two metal bars were particularly close together. To his left were the hinges to the cell's door. The key? Hooked onto Trak's waist.

The slow rising and falling of the ragged figures' chests caught Thomas's attention. 'I hope the rest of the group didn't get caught up in this. Is Jackal and the rest of his group here? I hope not.' He could have sworn that if it wasn't for the cold breeze whistling in his ears, he heard something other than breathing coming from the ragged figures.

"You're awake," Trak said, making Thomas flinch back. Trak put on a radiant smile, stepped closer to Thomas's cell, and put a hand on one of the rails. "So, like I told all of you before, I don't want to kill you, nor anyone for that matter. I feel I should make this crystal clear since your people almost killed mine." He reached forward. Thomas flinched back again and his head clanged against the rails. Gregen's eye twitched. "Relax." Trak pulled the rag out of Thomas's mouth. "I don't want to hurt you."

"Maybe we would have held back," Thomas began as he regained functionality of his mouth, "If your man hadn't almost killed me." He quickly regretted the statement when Gregen's facial expression shift from under his mask and his eye twitched again. "Don't give it a reason." Thomas remembered those words.

"Accidents happen," Trak said, oblivious of Gregen's change. He sat down in front of Thomas so only the thin metal bars separated them. "But now you're a prisoner, my prisoner. You cannot rely on the power you were born to. You are not special." He gestured to the other ragged figures.

"You are normal, so please accept your fate for the rest of today and tomorrow. I control over a dozen men while your group, what's left of them, is only three. I am not saying this to brag, but so mistakes aren't repeated like with those two nobles who escaped and attacked your group."

"What happened to them?" Thomas asked.

Gregen's unblinking eyes seem to bore into him. The shadow of Gregen's great sword swept over both Trak and Thomas as he stepped forward: "After bringing them to the brink of death, they were put back into their cages, where they belong. Then they only spoke when spoken to. They cooperated with any questions we had. I suggest," he emphasized. "That you do the same, cooperate."

"You didn't have to put it like that." Trak shot a wide smile at Gregen, who stepped back. When Trak turned back to Thomas, that smile faded. "Can you tell us about the commoners in your group: Frey and Doevm?" Thomas shook his head. "Don't worry." Trak jerked forward and pat Thomas on the shoulder, hard. "I don't want to know their location but to get to know them as people. Do you think they would be happy in this type of group instead of slaving away for you?"

Trak's other hand wrapped tight around one of rails, which screeched as it was bent. "Remember back when all of us were grouped up at the edge of the Capital? When General Alexander spread his bloodlust to everyone, I saw the light fade from your eyes. Doevm tried to make it look like an accident. He stomped on your foot so you wouldn't pass out. Am I wrong?" Thomas shook his head.

"Liar!" Gregen took another step forward and kicked Thomas's cage only to be wrapped in layers of chains.

"Easy there Gregen." Trak chuckled, releasing him. "We are not interrogating some guy on the front lines. This is a game remember?"

"A game?" Gregen spat. "Frey nearly killed two of my comrades, or so you told me Trak."

Trak clicked his tongue, stood up, and lightly pushed Gregen back. "I see that telling you was a bad idea. You never one to hold your temper, like how whenever your village is brought up-" Gregen grabbed Trak by the throat. "I-It was a joke." Trak wheezed, his smile widening until a bit of dead flesh on his lips cracked.

"Not a funny one." Gregen let Trak go, who coughed a few times after falling to a knee. "As a leader, I respect you, but please don't assume we are friends because of that. Stay out of my past." Trak rubbed his red neck, the marks already beginning to bruise.

"I understand," Trak said as he got to his feet. "But you know," he leaned in close to Gregen and whispered something. Gregen's eyes widened and he hurried back to his place. "That's more like it."

From under one of the ragged figures at the end, came a beetle. It scurried along the floor with its many sets of legs. 'All the nobles are…not moving.' Thomas thought. The beetle scurried over ragged figure after ragged figure. Other than the slow rising and falling of the ragged figure's chests, no one moved. Gregen's gaze followed the beetle as it scurried into Thomas's cage, and he shook his head. His arm, ever so slightly, shook.

Thomas lifted his foot and crushed it.

A crunch echoed through the cave, drawing both the guards' attention.

In that moment, while Trak wasn't looking, Gregen's eyes flashed red and went wide. He mouthed the words: "Fool." He stepped forward. His hand went to his great sword. "Trak." Trak whirled around just as the great sword left its sheath.

"What the hell happened to it?" Trak asked, poking at the handle of the broken great sword. "You were just standing there and…just now it randomly broke?"

"I know," Gregen scratched the back of his head. "I just heard a crunch and then I felt something shift and I could just feel it fall apart in its sheath. I paid good money for this as well."

"Here," Trak said, taking the broken handle. "I'll get you a new one. Stay here and keep watch."

Gregen clicked his tongue: "You just want some fresh air."

Trak laughed as he opened the door, dust flying off the rusty hinges, then shut it behind him. The sharp metal lock slid into place and licked. Gregen took a deep breath, and frowned, his face encased in darkness as the fireflies flew up to the top of the jar and turned off their light.

The echo of Trak's footsteps grew fainter. Thomas swallowed his saliva and felt around the keyhole to his restraints. Trak's footsteps went out of earshot and Gregen took a step forward. Thomas shook at his restraints, uncaring of the noise. The bundles of rags shook as Gregen took another step forward, his slitted eyes wide, his body shaking. A red aura gathered around Gregen and faded just as fast. Gregen collapsed.