Breaking The Balance

Breaking The Balance - The Last Flight

Jordan's POV

Ringing, relentless ringing in my ears that never seemed to cease. That was all I could hear. The high pitched whine mixed in with the sounds of shouting and the stamping of boots on stone floors, all emphasised by the sound of panicked breathing and the whimpers of pain that echoed around the structure like bats seeking their home. My breathing was harsh, grating up and down my throat as if someone had rubbed sandpaper down it. I cupped my neck, feeling the sensitive skin and the pain that emanated from certain patches when I rubbed my fingers across them – the after effects of strangulation.

Flickering my eyes open, a wave of pain wracked through my body as my nerves began to awaken from their numbed state. I flexed each of my limbs, ignoring the twinges of pain that they brought – focusing on the fact that they were all working. I did a quick examination of my body, seeing the multitude of bruises and cuts that littered my body – scabs and crusted blood clinging to my skin like a child does to its mother in times of fear and grief. A large cut was visible on my sword arm, going from the elbow right the way to my wrist – precariously close to the vital veins that helped keep me alive. I pushed myself to my feet, shoving the pain to the back of my mind to deal with later and began to take in my surroundings.

It was cold, goosebumps dancing across my skin and the cold draft that was coming into where I had been laying made it no warmer. All around me were bars and chains, clear signs of my imprisonment and by the looks of them, they were created with some metals I hadn't even discovered yet – rare materials that were not found in our old realm. The walls were made of some reinforced brick, with no signs of the aged cracking or weathering that I presumed would occur in a jail cell. I pressed myself up against the bars only to be jerked back by the feeling of electricity running through my body. I hissed in pain and approached them more carefully, my vision clearing fully and allowing me to see the slight shimmer surrounding the electrified bars.

Looking outside of my cell was what seemed like a dungeon, down in the deepest part of the prison – little light was filtering in through the doors that were the only exit to this hellhole. There were four cells in this area, two directly across from me with wide open doors, presumably empty and one that must be connected to my own. Leaning as close to the bars as I dared, I craned my neck to try and see into the cell next to my own. Its occupant was barely visible but the locked door was a clear enough symbol that I wasn't alone in here. My brain was searching for a solution to my current predicament but it was clear that the guards had thought of basically everything – I needed help and fast. Whispering harshly, I tried to gain the attention of my fellow prisoner.

"Hey! Fellow prisoner! Can you hear me?"

A startled gasp emanated from the figure in the shadows and what sounded like a sob of relief followed it as the subdued voice of Andor reached my ears, he was alright!

"Jordan! Oh, my word I'm so glad you are awake! You've been unconscious for over three days; I thought... maybe they'd killed you."

"I'm fine Andor, a bit of pain from the solid beating they gave me but overall I'm fine. How are you? Did they do anything to you whilst I was out?"

"Not really. I'm not sure what is holding them back, it's mostly been foul language and threats rather than actual abuse – it seems they've been waiting for something."

Horror dawned on me as I realised what they were waiting for. It couldn't be a coincidence that in all the time that I was unconscious nothing happened to Andor. My gaze frantically moved to the doors which had opened during our conversation, where a flurry of guards stood along with Lieutenant Al and the King. I glared openly at them, disgust and fury filling my veins as they walked towards us with huge sadistic grins on their face when they saw the fear that must've been filling Andor's eyes. Our cell doors were opened and several guards manhandled me out of my own, making sure to grip as hard as they could onto my various wounds – trying to force me to submit to their authority. Andor walked out of his without much encouragement, the sight of his father seemingly scaring him more than the sight of his abusers. The cold, furious voice of Al filled the room – the King merely nodding and staring at Andor with disgust as he went on.