What Is Needed

Chapter 4

The passage of meaningless time slipped links of lethargy around the three Withlings. At times, their chains clanked and scraped the stone floor as the three of them shifted.

The musty storeroom felt like a tomb to Hastra. Perhaps she had died. It was consistent. Hastra sighed. If only Elder Tokla had listened and done something sooner. If only she had agreed to tell the elder sooner. But how would it have changed anything? They never found anything. Perhaps a search would have helped find tale-tell signs like the Rokan ritual daggers. They trusted too much. Hastra scrubbed tears from her cheeks.

Zelma's resolve slipped into weeping while she squeezed Hastra's hand. "How are we alive?"

"I don't know." Hastra touched her blood-stained dress and the hole where the Corgren stabbed her. She ran her finger along the line of her mortal wound but found no blood. Best not probe further. She withdrew her hand and squeezed Zelma's with the other.

Howart cleared his throat. "It's the prophecy. We live because of it."

"Why not the others, then?" Hastra chewed her lower lip.

Beyond Zelma, Howart's chains rattled. "What is needed is given."

Hastra mumbled the response with Zelma. "But what has been given besides life? We are chained in darkness and useless here."

"We must wait and see."

"Perhaps."

He had a better grasp of the moment than she. They might be waiting for the rats to chew them to the bone. She shuddered. Did her heart still beat? Would she live through the pain of rat bites? She squeezed Zelma's hand again. Best not mention anything to her.

The time passed and Hastra dozed. She awoke to rat's fur brushing her ankle. She kicked with both feet. The rat squealed and pattered away.

Zelma gasped at Hastra's commotion. "What's that?"

"Nothing, just woke from a dream."

"I heard something running on the floor."

Hastra jumped as Howart's deeper voice boomed in the silence. "There are rats in here."

Zelma's chains rattled as she pulled her feet closer.

After that, Hastra sat awake and waited for the rat to return. Teeth gnawed on boards in the darkness and matched her hunger pangs. At least she still got hungry. She rubbed her raw wound inside her dress. Better than the alternative.

Later, the door's lock clicked and woke Hastra. Light shined around the edges of the door. Either trolls with food or they'd drag them before Corgren again. It wasn't a flickering torch. She stirred and her leg-irons scraped the floor. A rat squealed as it scrabbled away.

Howart and Zelma woke with groans as the door opened. Hastra squinted at the glow and her eyes watered. A silhouette stepped into the doorway. Her manacles clicked and fell open. She gasped as the figure with the wide-brimmed hat waved them to the door.

Zelma leaned close and grasped Hastra's arm. "What's going on? Who's that?"

Hastra patted her sister's trembling hand and opened her mouth to speak. The hat - he's the one who healed me. "I think we should follow."

Howart kicked his chains away. "Who is it? Why should we follow?"

"First, he's got a light. Second, he let us loose and third, he healed my leg several months ago." Hastra struggled to her feet and her knees wobbled.

The stranger moved into the passage beyond the room and the light faded as he walked away.

Howart stumbled to the door. "Hurry, he's leaving."