Home Genre psychological The Bloodline Duet: The Thief's Folly // The Weapon's Heart

Book 2, Chapter 19-20: Choke // The Méspoulis

  Pak

  We groan to a halt. My captors drag me from the wagon bed and fix the leash to my collar. We go on foot, my wrists still bound behind me, and the wagon-beast stays put. The tunnels are only disturbed by their near-silent trot and my own weary shuffling. One walks ahead of me, one walks to my side, and the leash-handler walks behind. They haven`t let me see since they warned me of the predators. When I stumble or falter, they don`t slow their pace, no heed for my unsteady gait. They must not want me to know where we`re going, as if I could ever hope to navigate this place.

  The path takes a sudden, sharp decline. My toe catches on a rock. I trip. The collar seizes my throat, choking me. My head whips back. I yelp, and it comes out crushed, gurgly. My knees crash into the ground.

  Pathetic.

  The leash-handler doubles their step, giving some slack to the leash. I spin around to face them and scramble backwards, digging my heels into the rock, shifting the collar`s pressure to the back of my neck. They resist my pull, but I keep pulling until my back scrapes the wall. My throat still aches. I can`t breathe. My mind spins - stop crying, stop crying, stop-

  I bite my lip until it bleeds. They tug me, trying to make me stand up, but I can`t. I can`t. I curl up, hugging my knees, twitching and whining like a dog having a nightmare. I want to hide my face, but my hands are bound. All I can do is push my cheek into the stone and let the dirt turn to mud beneath my eyes. My mind spins - I`m sorry - I`m sorry - I`m sorry-

  My muscles go rigid, bracing for feet or fists or fire, but nothing touches me. Even the pressure on my collar eases up. Their hushed, foreign whispers buzz about this chamber. I don`t understand. I picture myself, a heap on the floor of this tunnel. Just get it over with, my spinning mind whines. Just beat me into the ground.

  But somewhere beneath the thought, another whispers: help me, help me, help me, help me-

  I can`t breathe&

  Then choke.

  Even if they made commands that I could understand, I couldn`t obey them. Why aren`t they dragging me? How much time has passed? Why are they just watching?

  Memories lurch in and out of my consciousness:

  He hides in the bathroom as a child.

  He cries in his pillow as a young man.

  He doesn`t make a sound for as long as he possibly can.

  The wall that separates him from his only friend rattles.

  He covers his ears. He pretends not to hear.

  Even now that he`s grown, he hides, all alone, crying in his little closet.

  I hate this - I hate this - I hate this - I hate this-

  I`ve never had an audience for this before, and it makes it so much worse. I want to disappear. I try so hard to disappear. One of them touches my shoulder. I jerk away, pressing my body into the wall as much as I possibly can. I try to meld into the stone - d i s a p p e a r ! - but it doesn`t work. I struggle to contain my noise, knowing the consequence of failure will result in our deaths. I imagine us all being shredded by claws and teeth - it`s all my fault, it`s all my fault- Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  I shrink away to the end of my leash, a feeble tug-o-war I`m bound to lose. I shrink and pull and whimper and I just want to go invis-

  SSSKAP

  The light switches on. I gasp, blinking rapidly to clear the dust. I glimpse the weapons on their belts - long, curved knives fastened to thin rope.

  My captors cast no shadows by this strange internal light. I pretend they`re not there. I keep my focus on the steep, narrow path, the endless black of the tunnel. My breathing slowly settles. They wave something towards my face. I pull away, and they retract it, but it soon hovers in my peripheral vision again. I turn my head away, pressing my face further into the rocky wall&

  But then I smell it - sweet and savory, kissed with spices. My mouth gushes. I steal a cautious glance, barely moving my head until I see the hand holding the jerky. My stomach growls. My jaw stings. They wave it in front of my face, then pull it closer to theirs. I flick my gaze enough to see the outline of this one, his wide jaw, his thick neck, his jutting brow, and I watch as he takes a small bite of the jerky, then offers it back to me. He means to show me that it`s safe. I duck my head, still trembling. He brings it close to my face.

  Oh my god. You really are a dog.

  Just take it&

  My hands are still bound, so I have to take it between my teeth and chew it slowly. Its delightful flavor is soured by the knowledge that it is merely a pacifier. He gently tugs my leash. I stand, slowly, wobbly. They let me keep the light this time, so I won`t trip. I refuse to look at them as I eat my treat.

  Just keep walking&

  Rorri

  Rorri gasped for air as he snapped back to his own mind. It felt as if his body had been submerged in water for the time he spent reliving the cat`s memories, weeks or months or years, he couldn`t tell. He was shivering and sopping wet (he wasn`t, actually, it just seemed that way), and the sudden sensation of occupying a two-legged body left him dizzy and ill. Poppy kneaded his stomach and licked his face.

  "Rorri?" Adar`s voice sprouted just by Rorri`s ear, bright with concern. "Rorri, are you alright? What happened?"

  "I - I d-don`t know," he said, struggling to operate his flexible elven lips. He could still see flashes of Iridan`s streets from the kitten`s perspective, interspersed with vivid impressions of all angles of Shacia`s bedroom. It was as if he was watching Poppy`s life with one eye, while the other stayed in the void. He remembered hissing and running away from the Madam. He remembered being put in a small moving box, then released into Rorri`s home. He flinched as Adar`s warm hand met his forehead.

  "You don`t feel feverish," he said. Rorri barely heard him through the loud, aggressive purring as Poppy nibbled on his hair and bunted his face against his ear. "Dunno what`s got into him, though. Do you have catnip on you or something?"

  "I&" Rorri took a sharp, faltering breath. "I th-think& I think I read his m-m-mind&"

  Silence followed the declaration. As he regained feeling in his hands, Rorri scratched Poppy`s head, then picked him up beneath his armpits and set him on his lap before his skin went raw from the cat`s tongue. His mind wandered back to the strange thought that instigated the encounter, that unintentional expression of Will - s h o w m e y o u r w h i s k e r s - and the image of Poppy`s reflection in Shacia`s vanity mirror burned vividly before his broken eyes.

  "You what?"

  "His whiskers&" Rorri said breathlessly. "They`re white, aren`t they? Except one of his eyebrows&"

  "Rorri, what the f-"

  "What color are his whiskers, Adar?"

  "...They`re white, yes, but-"

  "Oh my god." Rorri tittered, then collapsed forward to hug the cat. "You sweet, beautiful bastard!"

  "Mau?"

  "Rorri, please tell me what`s going on."

  "I&"

  Rorri went quiet. He was dying to explain to his friend everything he just experienced, the wonderful thing he`d accomplished by reading the cat`s memories. It was the M閟poulis, the forest elves` mythical mind-reading` magic. He`d never done it before, and he wasn`t quite sure how he`d done it just then - but he did it, he really did it! But&

  "...I`m not supposed to talk about it," he said. He sniffed, wrinkling his nose. "What is that& is something burning?"

  "The sauce!" Adar cried, abruptly thudding away. Rorri snorted, dropping his head, as Poppy swatted at a loose strand of his hair.

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