Citadel of Fire

Chapter Twenty Two

Lucky

Where is it? Lucky thought in rising terror.

He held back a whimper, feeling for his small dagger.  With his hands bound behind his back, it wasn’t easy.  He felt nothing.  The rough rope chaffed at his small wrists.  It’s gone, he realized.  They took his blade.

He took a deep breath, trying to not let panic take over.  He knew how easy such a thing could happen.  When he was alone, in the dark, waiting for big men to grab him and kill him for stealing their coin or food, the panic was always heavy.  He breathed in and out, slowly, just as he would back then.  But still his heart was loud, pounding, slapping against his ribcage.  It didn’t help that he heard the other’s fearful breaths.

He glanced right and left and saw boys his age, some younger some older in a long row.  Most were softly sniveling while tugging on their bindings.  Some were openly crying.  Lucky felt a flash of pride—he wasn’t crying.  Not yet at least.

Lucky tried to calm himself by taking in his surroundings.

He was in a darkened courtyard.  Grass cushioned his knees.  Above his head, through a mesh of Silveroot branches, he made out a sliver of a moon.  A thief’s moon.  It was a pickpocket's best friend.  Normally, he felt comforted by the dark, but now the darkness felt different.  Lucky was scared.

Lucky felt something sharp in his pocket.  He shifted upon his knees, but he almost fell to his face.  He almost forgot his feet were bound too.  What is it? He wondered, feeling the small, sharp object digging into his side.  

The statue.

The one he’d stolen from Shade.

He looked up, eyeing the men who watched them.  Dark brutes with muscles that gleamed in the faint moonlight. 

“What do they want of us?” a boy whispered to his left.

“I don’t know, but I’m scared,” said another, tears streaming down his dirty face.

“Where are we?” said a third, voice quivering.

“The Citadel,” Lucky answered in a low breath.  

“How are we going to get out?” a little girl, Vitsu, asked with a woven cap tugged to the brim of her eyes.  Vitsu had been a Lost One he’d seen a lot.  Shade favored her.  She was nice, always helping others.  Lucky grimaced in memory, feeling jealous still.  But why was she here?  Strange when all the others were boys.  

Just then, at the glowing entry to the courtyard, a figure appeared.  Lucky stiffened.  Help, he thought, hoping rising.  Maybe it was a Reaver or a Devari.  He’d avoided both like a disease in the streets of Farbs, but surely they would see a bunch of boys and save them from this man.

“Lucky?” Vitsu voiced, louder.

“Hush,” Lucky said, “someone’s coming.”  

The figure walked down the keep’s steps, heading toward them.

As he approached, Lucky felt his fear spike. 

The man strode forward, bearing a strange blue orb in his hand.  It crackled, lighting the darkened courtyard a scary blue.  With each step, grass died, burning and turning to ash.

As he neared, Lucky’s heart darkened.  Something prickled along his skin.  It hurt, like a flame drawing closer and closer.  With the man’s next step, the other orphan’s began to whimper and cry.  Lucky stuffed down his terror, breathing evenly.