A harsh clang rips me from my debate. I realise the sound of blades has vanished. More thumping footsteps, unnervingly easy to pick out, follow immediately after.
Another shout. This one’s shape is close enough to form words. “Through here!”
Someone is coming, be they friend or foe. Taking a shaky breath, I force my fire to retreat. A wave of my hand whisks away the snake. Whoever I have to face, I’d rather keep my true nature hidden. As calming as I find it, my curse doesn’t make for a fantastic first impression. Or maybe there is still a futile spark buried within me that believes they can place some trust in me this way.
The logic doesn’t prevent the fearful squirm in my chest, along with the bare sensation at my fingertips. I swallow hard.
The footsteps pause. The quiet only stirs my anxiety further.
“Are you sure there’s anything down here? It seems pretty empty.”
The voice is male, I guess reasonably young, but besides that I can deduce nothing. Unfortunately, it seems soldiers don’t announce the kingdom they hail from for no reason other than the benefit of a clueless listener.
“And creepily dark,” another agrees, this one female.
I almost laugh, but any amusement dies at my realisation. These people clearly do not know I’m down here.
Yet there is a chance there are soldiers of Oscensi that have not been informed either. I take another steadying breath. There is no reason to panic, and it will do no good regardless.
“We have to check everywhere, whether you like it or not.” A different male voice, one more exasperated than fearful. “If some underground revolution starts up because you were too cowardly to spend a few minutes in a dark basement, General Velez won’t be best pleased.”
“Of course,” the first male replies. “Apologies, Captain.”
“The sooner we move, the quicker we’ll be out of here. Come on.”
They resume, following a path I have heard others tread many a time. I remain frozen in place, waiting for the moment I know they will round the corner. My heart has begun a jittery dance, thumping to the beat of their footsteps, as I replay their words. Ice scratches from beneath the surface of my skin.
The moment comes all too soon, and the lamplight catches their faces.
There are three of them -- two men, one taller than the other, and a woman -- just as their voices suggest it. The guards that visited me sometimes wore armour, but these soldiers are covered in it entirely, helmets pulled low enough to shadow their eyes. They shine a startling silver, and I get the distinct feeling that they do not belong here in the darkness.
My eyes flick to the blade the captain holds aloft. I am correct -- about the war, about the battle, about the swords -- and I hate it.
Slowly, the captain lowers his sword, head tilting to the side. He strides forward. “What are you, some special kind of prisoner?”
It takes me a moment to realise he’s talking to me. I draw in a breath. “Something like that.”
“Are you from Neyaibet?”
The very question awakes a flame in me. I hurry to hide my hands behind my back so they cannot see the flare. Neyaibet is the kingdom that has plagued us for so long, its people the soldiers that may have taken the life of the only person I remember showing me kindness.
“Are you?” I ask, though I already know the answer.
“Yes.” He draws closer, almost reaching the bars. “And from your expression, I’m guessing you aren’t. Akurin then? Though I don’t see why--”
“I’m from Oscensi.” It comes out quieter than I mean it.
He frowns. In his silence, the younger man moves forward to join him. “We can’t just leave him here, so we may as well bust him out. If the general doesn’t want him, then…”
He shrugs. I’m not sure I want to know what the vague gesture means.
After a moment, the captain nods. “Very well. Do the honours, Oswin.”
The man -- Oswin, it seems -- reaches towards his side. I flinch back, presuming he’s reaching for his sword, but his hand slides past the sheath and into a pouch hanging beside it. He draws out a small metal implement and crosses to the door of my cell, reaching for the lock.
My curiosity pulls me closer. He has slotted the tool into the keyhole and now jiggles it sideways, his eyes narrowed with concentration. Does he have the key to my cell? I was convinced that it had been thrown away a long time ago, and even then, what he holds doesn’t appear to be a key.
I’m sure unlocking in the usual fashion shouldn’t take this long, either. He jerks the tool upwards, but still nothing moves. Behind him, the captain releases a clearly impatient sigh and folds his arms.
The woman steps forward. “This is taking an age. I thought you were good at this.”
Oswin shoots her a glare. “Do you want to try?”
She ponders the offer for a moment, then glances at the captain. He nods. “Why not?”
With a mutter I can’t make out, Oswin wrenches the tool from the lock and drops it into her open palm. He moves aside to allow her to replace it. By now, I’ve come to the conclusion that they are attempting to tamper with the lock’s workings.
Several seconds filled with the rattle pass. Oswin smirks. “See? Harder than it looks.”
She does not respond. Then there is a sudden, harsh click. With a flourish, she pulls out the tool and gives the door a shove.
“Maybe for you,” she says. I barely register her words. The door to my cell is swinging open.
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