Chapter 2

I came to with a thudding headache, eyes closed against the constant pain. The back of my skull throbbed and I bit out a curse moving my hand to inspect the damage – except that it didn't move. Something was restraining my arms. My legs, too, were immobilized, as I noticed when I tried to get up. To get up... so I was lying prone. The violent hum of electricity streaking through the air assaulted my battered head, calling a deep grimace of agony from my raw throat. A steady dripping echoed all around me, but it seemed to come from a single source.

A runny tap, or a leak in the roof.

How long had I been out? My lips were parched and hunger growled in my stomach. I cracked open my eyes to better perceive how deep in shit I was, but blackness continued to engulf me. A tremor of panic vibrated in my core. I was weak, sightless, motionless, restrained. I was as good as dead, a lamb awaiting slaughter. Poultry breathing its last lungful before the bloodied knife would steal its life forever. That slight tremor increased in intensity until I physically shook in time with it.

I tried to wrench my arms free and felt narrow straps dig into my flesh. I cried out in pain and kept battling the straps with my forearms. They sawed in deeper and drew blood, but I cared too little to notice. My every instinct forced me to fight this unseen enemy, to escape these bonds, to run free once again.

I snapped my head back, the impact dizzying me for a moment. I hit the metallic table again and again with the back of my head, pounding away at my restraints. I yelled out, a shout mingled with fury and panic. The stuffy air invaded my mouth, causing me to gag. 

How hadn't I noticed before? The metallic scent of blood mixed with the stench of my sweat, like fingers of decay forcing their way down my throat and lodging in my lungs.

I gasped and groaned, my eyes rolled back into my head. I tried to close my eyes, but someone was keeping them open. Froth danced on my lips, and my whole body shivered in faint spasms, all the fight gone from me. Sweet oblivion slowly accepted me into its grim grasp; my body went limp.

Even so, my mind stayed alert, I didn’t know what the orcs were doing but this form of torture was new to me. The Elvin kingdoms had no such form of a monstrosity. The familiar voice of the orc echoed throughout the room once again, “If death is what you wish for, I assure you that you will not be graced with such a luxury. I am more than happy to lock you up for the remainder of your life so that only rats and maggots will keep you company.”

I twisted in my restraints, but the pain stopped me from trying to escape again. My father will come for me, I thought, they will save me. I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping that it would end, whatever it was. 

Days passed, maybe even months, but the cold embrace of my cell-like walls kept me from caring. I had nothing but a cold metal chair and the numbers in my head to keep me company. 1 window, 4 walls, 144 square feet of space, and 26 letters in an alphabet I haven’t spoken in what seemed like years of isolation.

I woke up to a pair of eyes staring back at me. Startled, I gasped and flinched expecting pain. A quick slap struck my face and the cold air in my cell made the sting of pain even worse.

“Still not speaking, huh?” the orc said, “You’re loyal, I’ll give you that.” He scoffed, mocking me as he walked around my cell. I was still strapped down, unable to move.

“How long are we going to have to torture you to get you to talk?” He continued. I knew what they wanted to know and I knew what they would do if I told them. It had been the reason I had taken the risk to travel through orc territory in the first place. I, along with several delegates from across the Frontier, had gathered to talk about one thing specifically.

How to take down our common enemy.

If I gave in to the pain, the orcs would have all of our battle strategies and we would have no way to take them down. Over the past few years, the orcs have demolished the western kingdoms and taken no prisoners. 

A hard kick to the stomach brought me out of my daze, the pain vibrated through my body, making me cough up blood. “We know you were in Hammerhold,” a voice radiating with snide confidence grunted. 

My eyes widened, but again, instead of answering my grit my teeth and kept quiet. The orc sighed and murmured something about me being less cooperative than a bitch. Then he turned and left the cell leaving me alone once again.

I couldn’t keep this up. I lay awake for at least a few hours wondering if the orc would come back, but my exhaustion got the better of me. 

I woke up drenched in a cold sweat, my brain swimming in unforgettable waves of pain. My eyes settle on circles of black that dissolve in the darkness. I have no idea how long I slept, but the small window in the corner of the room let in no light.

The binds holding me down were made of leather, and because of my sweat, they have been made flexible and easy to break. I used the sharp side of the chair to cut it, and even though the leather cut into my wrists, I didn't stop rubbing. Finally, the leather snapped, and my hands were free.

It didn’t take long to free my legs, but as I tried to stand up, they wobbled beneath me. It had been so long since I had to use them, that I’d almost forgotten how. I stumbled over towards the door to my cell. There was an opening that was big enough to stick both my arms through. 

I knocked on the metal door frame, thin bars barely obstructing the view. A second passed before two bloodshot eyes that rested in the face of yet another orc shifted into view. His face looked tired, his features were dull and placid, eyes sunken into the weary face that held many memories. His stiff neck and hunched back proved he had been here just as long as I had, however long that may have been. I smiled sweetly, trying to hide my aggravation while struggling to think of a quick plan in my head.

“You ready to talk, Prince?” He sneered, forgetting to question how I thawed my bindings but spitting in my face after just for good measure. Instead of answering, I reached up and wiped my cheek clean, then stuck my hands through the opening and grabbed his head. Slamming him forward, I clipped his front tusk around a rusting cell bar only to twist quickly pulling him back by his hair, letting go at the sickening, wet, crunch as his bottom jaw bone dislodged from his skull. 

The sound of soft exposed flesh ripping from bone echoed in the empty hall. 

His limp body collapsed to the floor, a puff of smoke erupting from the once still floor. I sighed then ran my hands through my hair, the orc’s black blood staining my face. I crouched down and rested my back on the cool metal door that blocked me from my freedom. Hunching over, I felt my belt dig into my sore stomach. I grunted in pain and pulled up my shirt to check the damage.

Blue and purple splotches covered my skin, my ribs stuck out as if broken, a thin layer of pale skin making me almost translucent. Thin cuts ran along my arms and dried blood cracked at every joint. The few strands of hair I could see through the darkness were stained black and clumped together with a mix of blood and grime. I pressed my forehead against my knees, hissing at the pain. 

A headache pounded in my skull, making me dizzy. My thoughts seemed cloudy as I tried to focus. My mind felt fuzzy as if stuffed with cotton, noise feeling distant but pain feeling fresh. Hobbling to my feet, by dirt caked nails scraped against the rusted metal, the feeling of skin peeling grounding me.

I groaned as my muscles contorted and stretched after so long. Kneeling to the crumpled body, I stuck my arm between the bars, pushing my cheek against the door and smelling the metallic stench of rust and blood. The key rattled in my hand, held by a slim ring tied to the orcs belt. Dragging the corpse closer, sounds of chains and belts clattering against the floor, I unfacened the loop from the hook tied to his waist. My fingers shook as I stood, struggling to line the key up with the lock, muscles weak from malnourishment. The door whined as it opened, the old metal protesting my escape. 

I was met with a damp draft, thick air coating my throat at my first breath of freedom.