The War For Vishera ✔

TWENTY-EIGHT: Captured

When Isiah awoke, it was to incredible pain. Everything caused him to hurt more, moving, opening his eyes, taking a breath. It was easier to sit there, wherever he was, as still as possible with his eyes closed. The pain in his head was almost unbearable, but if he didn't move any more than necessary, it stayed at a dull ache.

His memories were hazy, filled with the deep red colour of blood and the sound of yelling. Messy images flashed in his mind, but he couldn't piece them together no matter how hard he tried. Over and over again his body called for the stones as if they could bring him some kind of comfort.

They were still in his pocket, but with closed eyes, he couldn't see the glow. It would hurt if he moved, but if he had them, maybe he would feel better. As slowly as he could, he reached for his pocket, wincing at the pain. Terror shot through him when his hand stopped inches from his pocket as if held by some invisible force.

Ignoring the pain it would cause, Isiah opened his eyes. All around him was darkness, as suffocating as the black void as Askarune's Sanctum and it was impossible to see even his clothing. He tried to move his hand again, pulling it sharply towards him, but something around his wrist stopped him. Metal clinked loudly as he moved and he blanched, a sick feeling in his stomach.

There were chains around both his wrists, tying him to the cold wall he sat against. His legs were free to move about, but they ached too much for him to bother. Where would he go if he could move? He couldn't see, he was in pain and he was chained to a wall in some unknown place. There was nothing he could do.

And he had no idea why. He couldn't remember what had happened to him or where his friends were. He was alone with the chains and the pain, struggling to figure out where exactly he was. They had been on their way to the Sanctum of Nyat, but there was no way that was where he sat.

The Sanctum of Nyat, his stones, that was what he had been trying to find. He shifted his legs as best he could and tried to shimmy the stones from his pocket, but there was no clatter of them against the hard floor and he didn't knock into them in his struggles. There was no glow, no orange or blue. His stones were gone.

Panic coursed through his veins as he struggled against the wall. He'd been so careful to keep them on him at all times. Whoever had captured him had taken them while he was unconscious. But how? If anyone but him touched the flame stone, it would burn them.

He couldn't remember the last time he had used them, but somewhere in the back of his mind, he could see the flames. He had used them, but why? If the pain was anything to go by, they'd been attacked and it hadn't ended well. What he couldn't figure out was who had attacked them. It could have been one of two things: a search party sent by Harudan, or angry people from Huton.

Either way, it didn't matter, it wasn't going to end well for him. He had no way out and no way to find his friends. He didn't even know how long he had been unconscious for, it could have been hours or days, but from the way his stomach growled, it had been a long while.

All he could do was pray to anyone that would listen that he was the only one who had been captured. If that were true, it meant Rina and Emrick could come and rescue him. His heart leapt into his throat, threatening to spill from his mouth. No, Emrick couldn't rescue him, Emrick couldn't rescue anyone.

They'd come from the trees, their attackers, and Emrick was down before any of them could do anything. Isiah had tried to stop them, but there were too many and he was too weak. The blood in his memories was Emrick's, mixing with the snow as they pummeled him with punches and kicks. The yells had been everyone's, a cacophony of noise that he hadn't been able to make sense of.

None of them had been able to stop it from happening. Emrick had collapsed to the ground and stop moving, but their attackers kept going. A rage Isiah hadn't felt since Ishmar rushed through him, the rage that had caused him to kill in those dark tunnels. He'd brandished his flames, ready to burn anyone in order to save Emrick, but he was never given an opportunity.