The tunnel was dimly lit.

Rook dropped with a sharp cry when his toe struck a loose stone, wrenching himself free of Thruin’s grip. The goblin hissed between his teeth and Rook’s heart leapt. A steely hand seized the back of his neck and effortlessly hauled him upright.

Thruin’s grip remained firm as he dragged Rook deeper into the tunnels, forcing the boy to focus on his footing.

Even so, Rook managed to take in his surroundings. The tunnels had a strange consistency. Every corner was illuminated by something: strange glowing lichen, lamps, etched runes, or small stones radiating faint light. Some walls were finely carved. Others were left rough and uneven. Some passages were open and empty. Others were cluttered with strange collections of objects. Guard-like figures lingered in the shadows and more than one room without a door contained cages.

Rook thought he saw a child in one. A small silhouette curled in the corner.

He started wishing he’d arrived unconscious like the others. He really didn’t want to stand out here.

Thruin turned them down a darker passage. Ropes hung from the walls alongside several large urns. At the end waited a better-lit chamber. But Rook had the sudden feeling that more light was not necessarily a good thing.

The circular room was small. Its walls were crudely carved, with stones jutting out at uneven angles. Seven large steps could cross the entire space.

Thruin shoved him forward and he hit the ground hard. Gravel bit into his palms and pierced through his jeans at the knees. Rook rolled onto his backside, determined to keep the goblin in sight, and scrambled backward in an awkward crab-walk. His back pressed against the crudely carved surface.

Thruin’s lips twitched into the slightest smirk. He nodded his head, and the two soldiers—guards?—stepped inside. They moved as if this was just another day the office.

“Hook him to the right wall.”

Rook pushed away from the stone. Shifting onto the balls of his feet, he kept low and darted between them.

Thruin’s boot struck upward.

The impact struck Rook in the sternum and sent him sprawling. The guards hoisted him up, struggling to keep hold as Rook fought wildly, slewing curses that would have had his parents send him to reform school.

Through the hair falling into his eyes, Rook saw Thruin turn away.

Managing only a few inches forward against the guards’ hold, he snarled, “Leaving after all that tough-guy act, asshole?”

Thruin stopped.

Instant regret flooded Rook. His mouth snapped shut, dread mixing with the rage twisting within him.

Only bothering to turn his head slightly in Rook’s direction, Thruin stared silently. Waiting. Almost daring Rook to say more.

Rook’s body trembled. And, even though his logical side screamed against it, he poured every ounce of contempt he had into meeting the goblin’s stare.

Thruin gave a quiet scoff. Then flicked his fingers.

The guards slammed Rook against the wall.

Rook slid down the wall, too stunned to even register the pain. Dark spots had burst across his vision. The spots made sense. The blurriness didn’t. It was like someone had smeared petroleum jelly across glass.

Chains rattled. Cold metal closed around his wrists.

Squeezing his eyes shut against the tears threatening to form, Rook felt something strange move behind his eyelids. Like someone gently brushing their fingers over them, but from the inside.

When he opened his eyes, his vision had returned. But, a crushing headache now pounded through his skull.

A guard tested the chain lead by tugging. The metal around Rook’s risk moved with the motion.

Rook looked down. Five short links connected the shackles around his wrists. Thicker, ancient-looking chains extended from the centre, leading upward to a welded metal loop protruding from the stone wall. It was far beyond his reach.

“It’ll hold,” one guard said, satisfied.

He and his partner started towards the exit. Thruin was no where in sight.

“Wait,” Rook called, his voice raw.

He was ignored.

Scrambling to his feet, Rook's headache protested with a violent throb. He stumbled to the middle of the room, where his chains reached their limit. From there, he could still see down the hall.

Thruin was definitely gone. The guards, however, were in no hurry. One spoke in a language Rook didn’t recognize before laughing.

“Wait,” he repeated desperately. “This is a mistake! Seriously!”

"Shut up, serpent," one guard snapped in an accent similar to Thruin's.

Another goblin. Ganglier and shorter, but no less dangerous.

"I'm not a serpent! Just look at me! Please... take me back!"

The second guard rested a hand on his companion's shoulder.

"Let him yell. He's three passages from the nearest child."

The pair disappeared around the corner, their footsteps gradually fading into silence.

Rook sank into a crouch. Despair welled inside him.

Henry would tell everyone what had happened. People would search for him. And Dalia. But, could anyone even reach this place?

Across the room, another set of chains hung from the wall. These ended in an iron neck restraint.

Rook shivered. He’d gotten the better side. And perhaps… He flexed his fingers before twisting his wrists.

Back in Grade 5, he'd accidentally wedged his hand between two playground bars. He'd escaped by dislocating his thumb—a stunt that had earned his delighted ten-year-old self a week of notoriety among his classmates.

After several fruitless minutes of fiddling, Rook swore under his breath. The iron clasped his wrists too tightly.

Shifting tactics, he scooped up a handful of dirt and rubbed it between his palms. He hissed as the grit worked into his cuts, but it gave him a better grip. Using the chains like a climbing rope, he hauled himself up to the top ring welded into the wall. His shackles scraped against the stone, leaving marks like graphite on paper.

Resisting the irrational temptation to scratch Rook was here into the stone, he awkwardly clawed at the rock surrounding the metal fixture. Not a single grain came loose.

A sudden gust of cold air brushed his face, and Rook jerked back. Only then did he notice the natural hole in the wall, half a metre to one side and no larger than his fist. He edged closer and peered inside. Dark and ominous. Another rush of cold air breathed against his face.

Stories about bad air in abandoned mines flashed through his mind, but all he smelled was damp stone and minerals.

It actually reminds me of a vent. Vents lead to other spaces!

“Hello?” he tried. “Can anyone hear me?”

Only another gust of cold air answered.

With his arms beginning to shake, Rook dropped back to the floor. He slumped against the wall, exhausted and out of ideas.

The chamber was cool, but not freezing. Nothing like the mine he’d toured on school field trip. He almost felt like could go to sleep in here, though that was likely his exhaustion’s influence.

The hair on his arms stood up.

He looked up and his heart lurched as he saw a goblin dart away from the doorway after peeking inside at him.

He kept his eyes fixed on the entrance. Sleep was definitely not an option.

I won’t be here forever. People will look for us. I just have to endure until they find me.

As his ears adjusted to the quiet, the air rushing through the opening became more distinct. Several times he caught the sound of distant footsteps. And what he'd first mistaken for the cavern's natural echoes now sounded like crying.

Taking a deep breath, he shouted with everything he had, “Can anyone hear me! Dalia! Fanny! …Gwendolyn!”

“Stop yelling!” a deep voice rumbled.

Rook scrambled backwards, biting down on his lip to stop himself from crying out.

A huge figure, well over nine feet tall and covered in fur, bent to enter through the chamber’s opening. Her metal-capped horns scraped against the stone before she straightened to her full height inside.

A minotaur.

Rook shrank beneath her gaze. He lowered his eyes to the floor, swallowing back the sobs threatening to escape.

“Stay quiet. Food come.” Her broad muzzle wasn’t built for the Common tongue. The goblins, at least, looked partly human.

She snorted and stomped back into the passage. Rook watched her turn the corner before stopping just out of sight. Her shadow remained stretched across the hall floor.

A guard.

His guard.

Rook slowly sat down, keeping his eyes steadily on the entranceway. Who knew when she might storm back in, or what monsters might wander by next.