Chapter Eight

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Rory

Rory laid on the damp rocky floor of cell, singing a tune to himself. Even though the flow of air through his chest caused great pain to his busted and bruised ribs, singing was the only way to pass the time in the darkness.

Then while laying there staring into the corner-wall, so that it appeared upside down and sideways, a familiar friend came to visit. It was a rat that Rory had affectionately named Pete.

Sometimes Pete would come to visit Rory, usually after Rory had been given his meal for the evening. It had become Rory's custom to set aside a small potion of his food, despite his own aching hunger, so the he would have some extra to give Pete upon his visits.

At first Pete had been leery of Rory, but over time with regular feedings, Pete had come to trust him enough, so that he'd even allow Rory to hold him in his palm and pet his head with his finger.

This simple act of friendship between the two had made whatever sacrifice that it cost Rory in food rations, well worth it. And here now, as Rory laid in this dark and miserable place, just the sight of Pete coming to visit, brought a giant childlike smile to Rory's face.

He retrieved some of the crumbs that he had stashed away in his pocket, holding them between his thumb and finger, he offered them to Pete, who without hesitation, scurried onto Rory's chest and began to nibble at the morsels from his fingers with a gentle chirp that tickled Rory's skin.

For a brief moment Rory forgot about the pains in his beaten and sore body as he stroked little Pete's hair and watched his silly whiskers sniffing around.

Then suddenly there was a loud commotion from down the hall, much yelling and distress, which sounded as if the argument was growing louder and closer. Then he heard the latch on his cell door clinking as if it were being unlocked. It swung open with a bang.

In the entrance stood the guard who had participated in the regular beatings of Rory, and a few others whom he did not recognize.

"Here's the man they brought in, I swear it." The guard sounded fearful as he spoke.

Then one the others spoke next. "This is not him. What are you playing at?" He kicked the fat guard from behind, sending him toppling forward into the cell.

The sniffling guard scrambled to his knees in a pleading fashion, "Please I swear.. this is the man the soldiers arrested."

Another man came forward, he had a large scar across his face cutting from his forehead through his left eye and down along his cheek. He was clearly the leader of this group.

He stared at Rory for a moment then spoke in a voice as dry as grating sand, "It's not Caden.. but take him with us anyway, Darius will have questions for him."

Two men entered and dragged Rory away by his arms. As he got further down the hallway he could hear the guard pleading for his life with greater urgency until he was struck silent in an unknown way, but Rory suspected that it was from something unpleasant.

They carried him through the back of the dungeons, out an old sewage drain, passing other slain guards along the way. Outside they loaded him into a small fishing boat and paddled until they reached a much larger vessel a few miles off the coast.

Rory was happy to have been freed from the cell, but obviously he had many questions about who these men were, and why they had freed him. But his first thoughts fell back to the three girls with whom he had set out on this journey with, and what might of become of them now.

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