Marko maintained his tight grip all the way down the stairs and out the front door. The neighbours had all come out to witness what was happening. They whispered to each other, pointing at Lukas and nodding their heads knowingly. At the sight of an audience Marko yanked Lukas’ arm a little tighter and started stepping on the backs of Lukas’ shoes in an attempt to trip him over. He had almost managed to stay upright the whole way but just as they turned the corner into the main square he stood on a large stone at the same moment that Marko stepped hard on his heel. With only one arm free Lukas hit the gravel road hard, probably with a bit of an extra downward push.

Somewhere in the crowd someone laughed.

Scratches burned on the side of his face and down his forearm. Hot tears stung his eyes but he willed them back; no matter what else, he would not give them the satisfaction of seeing him cry.

Marko yanked him back to his feet by his tender arm but his joint refused to give way and Lukas was grateful for that much at least.

 - - -

The town’s jail had originally been designed as an inn but somewhere in its history it had been commandeered as the home and workplace of the town’s sheriff. It only had two cells that had been built down in the cellar; the only access to which was down a ladder under a trapdoor.

“Take him down,” Sheriff Eelroy ordered his sons before walking away to his office. Artony lifted the wooden hatch and descended first.

“Don’t try anything funny or you’ll have more than just a few scratches on your face,” Marko warned as he released his arm and pushed him towards the ladder. Lukas had no doubt that he would keep that promise and he would rather avoid any more injuries before he had a chance to explain himself.

When he reached the bottom Artony grabbed him by the shoulder. He was shorter than his brother but still had a few inches over Lukas, which was unfair as Lukas was three years older. His grip wasn’t as tight as his brother’s and Artony hadn’t twisted his arm but still a chill ran down his spine. There was not the same joyful malice in his eyes as his brother’s but there was something cold and calculated that Lukas couldn’t define and that, somehow, made it worse.