Verath the Red (Dragonwall Series #3)

Chapter 30 - Finding A Way Out

Shadowkeep

Mikkin looked down at his plate of food, cringing. It was a pile of lumpy gray mush with a watery substance leaking from it. And of course, he was given no utensils.

"You call this food?!" he shouted after the guard, who had already walked down the length of the dungeon corridor. His stomach rumbled from days without eating. He would not give in. Not yet. And if this was all the sorcerer planned to feed him, he'd rather starve.

How many days had passed? Impossible to tell in a place like this. His only form of judgement came from the food and water brought periodically. He'd received three servings thus far.

Time ran together here. Each day felt like an eternity spent dwelling on his thoughts of what could have been. As he dozed in and out of delirious consciousness, he oftentimes forgot Mardra was dead. He pictured what it would be like to come home to Thomas and Devden after a day of hunting in the hills beyond. What their cottage looked like. The garden out in front.

Then he remembered where he was and what he had lost.

He looked down at his food again. "Might as well call it poison instead of food," he grumbled.

A wheezing laugh sounded from across the corridor. "You'll be hard pressed to get much better round here," Berbik said, shuffling into the light. There was naught but bitterness in the Dwarg's voice. Understandably so. He had in been Shadowkeep's dungeons for years. One look at the Dwarg was enough to see that. More creature than Dwarg at this point.

Mikkin grunted. "Suppose you've just given up and eat whatever they give you, eh? Gray mush and all?"

"Might as well," said Berbik. "It 'ent bad once you're hungry enough, you'll eat the dirt off your cell floor to stay alive." Mikkin grunted at that. Yeah, right! "Fight it all you want, but nothing will change. That's how things are down here. Be happy you haven't been entirely forgotten. All the other cells beside us have. You 'ent heard nothing from them, have you? Key master only brings two plates down."

"Maybe I want to be forgotten," he said. "Not like I have anyone to go home to. And anyway, when Kane returns, I'm in for torture and whatever else. Rather starve down here first." He shuddered. Torture would be bad, and the sorcerer was sure to have tricks up his sleeve that took pain to another level. "What of you, Berbik? Anyone to return home to?"

There was a long pause. "Doubt it. I did, once..."

In the past few days, Berbik had painted a sad picture for himself. Mikkin knew little about Dwargs, except that they were highly regarded for their mining and shaping of Ice Metal. The Northern Barrier Range was a vast place. It was said the Dwargs had dwellings throughout the range, hidden underground. He'd heard more stories than most, being from the north, but they were still vague. Stories about the Dwargs' metal-working skills. Stories about their ability to navigate underground mines and sniff out shafts. Stories about their strength. He never believed he would meet one.

He gazed at Berbik. "In all your time down here, don't suppose you've worked out a way to escape?" His eyes darted to the lock on his cell with a deep sense of longing. He knew what Berbik's answer would be, but decided it was worth asking, if only to make polite conversation.

"Escape?! You? Ha! You got places to go? People to see? Thought you said there was no one left."

Mikkin snorted. "That may be, but I'd like to see the daylight again." Which told him there was still an inkling of will-to-live hiding within him. And something else. He thought about Jamie out on his own, waiting for him. "Besides, I got work to do."