An Axe in the Flames

The Price of Treachery

It was dark, and that was all that he knew. He felt cold cobble salt stone under his bare feet, and cold metal around his wrists. His hands were bound above his head in the shape of a Y, pulled up high enough that his feet barely touched the stone beneath him. He was as bare all over as the day he was born, his skin prickled at the salty sting of cold stillness all around him. Not a sliver of light permeated anywhere in his vision, and his head swam with both the aching of his arms and the pain that been inflicted on him over the last few days. He hadn't eaten, had only been given minute amounts of water and plenty of beatings. He tried to run his tongue over his cracked lips, but it felt like a wooly caterpillar and did no good. He was so thirsty, so hungry, so tired. He tried to sleep, but visions of his wife being torn apart assailed his thoughts. His daughter screaming and then running off with the weird little girl. Rikart had everything taken from him in a blink of an eye, mercifully enough he hadn't witnessed the murder of his sons. Though, Lucan was vile enough to describe their deaths. What had he done to deserve this loss, this pain, this torture? He had wanted a better life for his children and wife, a better life for his people. Lucan had lost sight of that better life and decided he wanted revenge for crimes he had committed. How was that revenge? To be punished for something you actually did...Lucan had lost his mind. Vanni had something to do with all of this, he was sure. If he ever got out of this, he would have revenge. Actual, pure, untethered revenge.

His hands felt like pins and needles as he tried to stand on his toes to get blood flow back. With every movement his back screamed in agony and his muscles spasmed, sending searing pains through his entire body. He tried to groan but only a squeak came out, soft and dry. From in the distance he heard water dropping, a slow drip from somewhere. He knew these were the salt dungeons, on the outside of the Flame Sect castle. This was where people went to die, outside of the walls because even in death, those brought here weren't good enough to grace the Flame Kingdom. Something moved beneath him, it was furry as it brushed against his toes. He slowly lowered his foot, stretching as far as his shackles would allow and let it crawl up his foot. The sensation was amplified by the loss of sight with no light. It wasn't big, more than likely a hairy worm. He didn't care, if it crawled close enough for him to reach with his mouth he would eat it. Every little bit counted, and he was determined to live through whatever Lucan and Vanni had planned for him. He would not die in this desolate place, he would be reborn as death himself. He would be the lightning in a storm, the harbinger of sorrow for all that opposed him.

A creak of metal sounded like thunder in his ears, but he knew what it was. The dungeon door had been unlocked and opened. Would it be Vanni today? Lucan? Or that stupid, child raping mongoloid? All three would pay, and it wouldn't be swift. It would be slow, painful, inching death for each of them. The crawling was on his chest now, it was certainly a worm. Slowly, he angled his head and was able to scoop it up with his tongue. He sucked at it as he crunched the body and took all of the moisture from it that he could. It tasted awful and sour but he savored every second of the unexpected meal. He chewed until it was only paste in his dry mouth and held down a dry heave that wracked his ribs. Swallowing was almost impossible, but he managed to put the thing down. It had almost certainly been a hairy worm, not poisonous. If it were, and he died from that little bit, he would come back as the most vengeful spirit anyone had seen. He would not be denied his revenge. His resolve was hardened every day he was in this dungeon and with every punch and kick from whomever was doing the beating that day.

Keys jangled from down the hallway, and the slightest creep of a glow appeared down the hall. It was brighter than the sun to Rikart, as he squinted against the lantern light. Slowly, the light grew brighter as it came closer to his cell. He could see the bars now, stretching in front of him and illuminating his dank cell. Salt cobble stone decorated the walls and floor, as well as the ceiling. Dark with wet, and going green with moss. The bars were already rusting, spots of orange dotted the dark metal. Rikart could smell who was coming, his senses heightened by being depraved of them for days. Rushing into his nostrils was a flowery smell, mixed with a rich wood odor. Lucan, Rikart thought. That smell was undeniable and at one point he had enjoyed it. Now he loathed it, such a pompous arrogance to smelling like you were better than everyone. A laugh echoed down the hall, bouncing from the stones and all around the small cell. That laughed incensed Rikart, his face flushed and blood began pumping through his veins at an accelerated pace.