Chapter Thirteen

Chapte r Thirteen

T he walk back to the house is icy. With his hand still tight on my shirt, I can feel the rage radiating off of Ironstorm in waves. My mind scrambles to think of an excuse, a way out of this, an escape route, but I know anything I come up with is only going to make things worse. I’m as goo d as dead.

When we arrive, he opens the door and roughly pushes me inside. I find my balance before I land flat on my face, standing against the back of the couch, unsure of what to do or where to go. Ironstorm slams the door behind him, angrily stomping his way past me. He paces, running his hand down his face before finally turning his g aze to me.

“I—”

“Why would you do this, David? How could you possibly think that—” He cuts himself off, going silent for a moment. “Wrong question. How did you do this?”

“Uh, I uh...” Thinkt hinkthink.

His eyes wander around the room, the fireplace, the bookcases, the couch, before finally landing on the half-full mug on the side table. His eyes go wide, flitting back and forth between me and the beer as he walks over to pick it up. He brings it to his face, inspecting the amber liquid still inside. Wordlessly, he walks it to the kitchen and grabs a small white towel. Standing over the sink, he holds the towel in one hand and slowly pours the remaining beer into it. When it’s empty, he stretches the fabric of the towel as he inspects it closely. I know exactly what he’s looking for. I really should have looked for a mortar...

“You drugged me?!” he roars, throwing the wet towel into the sink and quickly crossing the r oom to me.

“I’m sorry!” I cry out, panicking. “ I wasn’t—”

“Speak again and I will gag you.” He clamps his hand over my mouth, staring me down menacingly. “There is nothing I want to hear from you.”

Grabbing me by the shirt collar, Ironstorm walks me down the hallway, opening the spare room on the left. He pushes me inside and shoves me at the empty bed onto my stomach. With my arms still cuffed behind me, I have no chance of fighting back. I turn onto my side so I can look at him. The room is dark, the light from the doorway blocked by the silhouette of his body.

“You will remain here until I decide what to do with you.” He sounds disgusted with me, and for some reason, that knowledge makes me feel even worse. He shuts the door without another word, the sound of the lock clicking signaling I won’t be going anywhere.

I look at the door, but there’s no point in checking. I roll onto my stomach and climb the rest of the way onto the bed. Might as well get comfortable since I don’t think I’ll be leaving anytime soon. Not that it’s easy with steel manacles cuffed tightly to my wrists. I lay there in the dark room alone. My mind can’t help but compare my current situation with that of my friends, though from what I remember their sleeping arrangements were a lot more comfortable than mine ar e tonight.

Eventually, my thoughts turn to Ironstorm. What exactly did he mean by “decide what to do with” me? My stomach starts to twist itself into knots thinking about what he might be planning. The last time he punished me, he went out of his way to take it easy on me. Can’t imagine that will be the case this time. No way is he just spanking me for this. Maybe he’ll whip me, or just beat me to a pulp. What if he breaks my leg because I keep trying to run? At some point, before I start hyperventilating, I pass out.

It’s dark in the forest, the leaves on the trees rustling in the wind. From the ground, I can see the moon, large and full in the sky. A twig snaps in the distance, and I watch as a large black wolf slinks through the trees. It looks featureless in the darkness, all except its red eyes: two hot points of light surrounded by an inky, canine-shaped void. As it approaches, it feels like those eyes are burning a hole straight through to my sou l. Hungry.

I wake up from the strange dream to more darkness. Whatever sleep I did manage to get was fitful. My arms are sore, still cuffed behind my back and kept in this weird position all night. I also need to pee. I have no idea what time it is, but the thin strip of light coming from under the door tells me that it’s at least the next day. I hear the faint sounds of movement on the other side of the door, but it’s too far for me to pick out anything specific.

I’m just about to try passing out again when I hear the sound of the lock being opened, the shadows of two feet visible under the door. I squint when the door opens, my eyes not used to the bright daylight. Ironstorm stands in the doorway, a plate in one hand and a cup in the other. He moves near the bed, placing both items on the small table next to me before reaching for me on the bed. He walks me to the bathroom, standing me in front of the toilet. After I relieve myself and he pulls my pants back up, he walks me back to the room, pushing me back on the bed before turning to le ave again.

“Could you uncuff my hands?” My voice is rough from not being used. I’m not sure he hears me until I see him stop. “Please.”

He sighs but turns around and walks back to me. He doesn’t look happy, but I’m not sensing any specific annoyance over my request. I roll onto my stomach to give him access to my wrists, the sound of keys jangling followed by the lock on the manacles clicking. I roll onto my back and sit up so that I can face him.

“Thank you,” I respond softly, the threat of being gagged still hanging in the air. He says nothing as he turns and exits the room, locking the door b ehind him.

It’s difficult in the dark, but I manage to carefully feel for the plate and cup in the dark without spilling anything. Nothing more than bread and water. Wonderful. At least he’s still feeding me, for now. I finish eating fairly quickly and push the empty cup and dish back onto the table. Without anything else to do, I lay back, trying to think about anything other than my impending doom or the fact that Adam and everyone else have probably already been taken to the work camp. I wonder what Mike’s up to? I don’t even remember what day it is. Terraday? He’s probably in class right now, studying his spell books or something.

At some point, I doze off again, reawakening when I hear the door being opened again. I sit up a little faster than I need to, the both of us staring at each other silently for a few moments. He steps back, crooking two fingers at me and moving back down the hall, expecting me to follow.

“Sit.” He points at the couch when I enter the living room and I tak e my seat.

He paces back and forth in front of me, occasionally running his fingers through his hair. He’s obviously still angry, but a lot of the rage from last night seems to have settled. He’s fully dressed, we both are, but he’s at least not wearing the same thing he was last night. I don’t dare open my mouth to complain. Finally, he comes to a stop and tu rns to me.

“I want to know why you did it, David.” He locks his eyes on mine. “What possible reasoning do you have to justify your actions?”

“Because you sent my friends to a work camp.” My voice is steadier than I would have expected, but I am nothing if not confident in my convictions. “I know what those are and what really happe ns there.”

“What are you talk—”

“Don’t play dumb!” He doesn’t look happy that I cut him off, but he lets me continue. “Those places are where you send prisoners to work themselves to death. Where you use them until there’s nothing left. We both know two months there is as good as a death sentence.”

“Spirits, I swear this boy is going to drive me insane.” Ironstorm sighs at my outburst, pinching the bridge of his nose. “David, I can assure you that your friends are safe and will continue to be safe as they serve out the terms of their incar ceration.”

“Bullshit. Tell that to my dead great-uncle.” He cocks an eyebrow at that, so I continue. “He and my grandfather were captured after a battle and sent to a ‘labor camp.’ For months they were forced to do things like mining or logging or hunting dangerous fucking monsters. Barely fed, made to work until they wasted away to nothing.” I speak bitterly to the floor. I was told this story so many times growing up. “My grandfather barely made it o ut alive.”

“The term ‘labor camp’ only refers to the fact that your friends will be laboring while incarcerated.” He sounds frustrated. “It is different from a normal prison because they will actually be leaving the site most days to do things like farming, or construction, or sewing. The administrators at the camp will determine what their skills will be best used for. They will even earn a wage for their work, which will go to paying whatever fines or damages are owed, and they will receive anything leftover upon their release. Your friends were lucky to be sent there at all; it is normally out of the question for anyone convicted of a viole nt crime.”

Ironstorm stands in front of me, arms crossing his chest, waiting for a response I don’t have. I sit there silently, staring at my hands. If what he’s saying is true, that doesn’t sound so bad... But how do I know it’s true? Aside from the fact that he hasn’t actually lied to me yet.

“I tried to explain all of this to you yesterday when we were walking home. I can only assume that the ideas in your head are a result of whatever fucked up system you humans use.” I think that might be the first time I’ve heard him curse. “I can tell you with confidence that here things do not work that way . What would be the point in punishing someone if they are not given the chance to survive afterward? As a general rule, we try not to starve or maim our prisoners, let alone allow the m to die .”

“Well, I didn’t know that okay!?” How cou ld I have?

“You never know, David. You never even try to learn! You just act .” He’s not having any of my excuses. “You never think your actions all the way through. What exactly was your plan here? Say you did manage to break your friends out of their cells and get out of the jail without anyone noticing. Then what? The five of you would make the two-and-a-half-mile trek to the edge of the city unnoticed? Somehow sneak past the guards posted at the gates and the ranger patrols in the forest outside?”

“Let us say that somehow, the five of you manage to pull all of that off. Then what? ” He continues to dismantle my plan. “You have no money, no food, and no weapons. The nearest human settlement is a three-day hike. Every last person you know is either in a jail cell or half a world away. So again, I find myself asking: what was your plan, David? What has been your plan for any of your escape attempts?”

“I would have figured it out!” I snap, standing so I can yell in his face. “Why does it even matter now? It didn’t work and my friends are gone. Nothing happened. Your buddy was happy to l et me go.”

“He did not do that for you , David,” he grits out, punctuating his sentence by pushing me back onto the couch, venom dripping off his tongue. “He did that for me . How do you think it would look if it got out that four days after taking you in, you managed to subdue me, rob me, and break into our jail? How do you think my superiors would react to t hat news?”

His career would be as good as over, probably.

“That is not to say you do not have anything to thank him for. You sincerely do not seem to grasp the seriousness of what you did tonight.” His voice is starting to sound a little like my dad’s now. Yikes . “You drugged me, a captain, a high-ranking government official. You then stole my keys, keys to a building in which we house alleged criminals. You then proceeded to break into that building intent on releasing four convicted criminals. Individually those are all already grievous crimes, but together? Even I would not be able to protect you.” His voice shakes a little as he finishes. “David, they could execute you for something l ike this.”

I let his words sink in. It’s not like I didn’t know that what I was doing was serious. I’m still not sure I would have done anything differently. “Look, I’m sorry, but I don’t know what else you expect from me. As far as I know, you’re keeping me here for the rest of my life. Being a slave was never very high on the list of things I want ed to do.”

“I have seen how humans treat their slaves.” The fuck he has! Outlawing slavery was one of the first things Lutheria did when it was founded. “You have slept in a warm bed every night and eaten better than you have in weeks. I even bought you a new wardrobe.”

“Oh good, so I’m a slave with extra benefits.” I roll my eyes. “Except things like feeding myself, or wearing clothes when I want to, or sleeping in my own bed.”

“Just because in human ci ties you—”

“ Ohmygod , I don’t know if this has somehow escaped your notice, but I am a human . One who has spent the last twenty years living in human cities surrounded by other humans and generally being immersed in human culture. You know, because I’m a fucking human !” I stand from the couch again to shout in his face. “I’m sorry that I don’t always get how things work around here, but the way you explain something and then just expect me to accept it and ignore everything I’ve ever known isn’t as helpful as you seem to thi nk it is!”

I continue because why not? I’m on a roll. “I get it. You live in this perfect city with its perfect people and your perfect job, and then me and my friends come in and start blasting fire everywhere and fuck it all up. I am well aware of just how much I don’t have my shit together. If I did, I wouldn’t have left everyone and everything I know behind two months ago just to end up stuck here turned into your fucktoy!”

“You would not be here as my fucktoy if you had not chosen to challenge me in the first place!” I can tell my comments have him bristled. His fists are clenched. “You are not here because you were ‘blasting fire everywhere.’ You are here because you broke onto our land intent on ransacking a temple and then attacked my group when we tried to stop you! This was not a simple skirmish. One of my men had almost all of the skin on his arm burned off. Another broke his leg in two places! And after you were arrested for all of that, rather than accept your punishment, you decided to take things further and challenged me personally to a fight to t he death!”

“We both know I wasn’t going to kill you.” I roll my eyes again. “You even said it yourself: I could have if I wanted to. You were face first on the ground, and all it would have taken was a quick jab to the neck. But I didn’t, because—and this may come as a shock to you— I’m not a shitty person . Killing someone, even for my own freedom, is about as high on the list of shit I wanna do as being a slave. So when I had the chance to finish you off, even when I thought it meant me and my friends going free, I couldn’t do it. So could you maybe stop being pissed off at m e for it?”

“Just because you hesitated does not mean you would not have done it.” He crosses his arms and puffs out his chest. “No one forced you to challenge me. You still walked into that arena fully intent on ki lling me.”

“Yeah, and when you accepted my challenge, I thought you were doing the same thing. I thought that maybe knowing that the other person was also trying to kill me would make things easier.” If only out of self-preservation, I figured. “Surprise! It didn’t. I’d like to see you wake up in a jail cell thousands of miles from home to find two of your best friends are missing. You might find it a little difficult to not freak out and make some rash d ecisions.”

“Rash decisions? You nearly killed me!” he shouts i n my face.

“ And you made me your fucking slave !” I scream the words and he winces. “From the second I met you, you have beaten, molested, and humiliated me. You can dress it up however you want, tell yourself that I deserve it, even make me scream and beg for it, but none of that changes the fact that at the end of the day, I never asked for any of it. You forced it on me.”

“I hardly th ink that—”

“No!” I am so tired of him justifying this shit. “You keep acting like I’m crazy for not just rolling over and smiling about the fact that I’m your slave. Like there’s something wrong with me. Everything I’ve done has been out of survival because as you have so helpfully pointed out, I don’t have any other options. I had a life before all this, a life I plan on getting back to!”

Ironstorm goes quiet at that, his chest significantly less puffed up, not looking me in the eye. “I was never going to keep you here permanentl y, David.”

“Great, so you keep me here a few yea rs until—”

“A few months,” he cuts me off, looking at me again. “I only intended to keep you until your friends were released.”

Things are silent between us for a moment. “Why didn’t you tell me that?”

“What reason did I have to?” He stares me down. “From the moment I met you, you have been nothing short of an unrepentant antagonistic prick . For all the indignities you have suffered, you seem to forget that the only person you have to blame for being in this situation is yourself.”

“I told you the guy who cast the fire—”

“We are not talking about your friend, David. We are talking about you .” He starts to close the distance between us. “Or did the blow to your head make you forget about how the rest of your group charged us right after the fire was thrown? How you came at me personally? No one forced you to do that. Just like no one forced you to trespass on our land and no one forced you to challenge me. You made all those choices, David, and all you have done since is try to shirk any responsibility to avoid the cons equences!”

“Because if I knew that this ,” I gesture back and forth between us, “was one of the consequences, I never would have challenged you in the first place!” We’re just yelling at each other now.

Ironstorm rolls his eyes and shakes his head at that. “So you keep saying. What exactly were you told about the ritual? How did you even know about its existence to be gin with?”

“Redwish told me about it.” Only after I really pressed him for it though. “He said that if I challenged you and won, me and my friends would go free. If I lost... Well, he didn’t actually say anything there, just let me assume the worst and my mind went to death. There was no mention of sex or being a slave. Not to mention that if I knew what the actual rules were, I never would have hesitated and won. But instead, here we are.” I sink onto the couch, crossing my own arms. “I wish you had just fucking k illed me.”

He winces again. Okay, maybe I said that just to be hurtful, but this is one of the first times it feels like I have any power between us. “When Redwish came to issue your challenge, I was going to say no. I saw no reason to accept. But before I could answer, he launched into a frustrated tirade. Said that from the moment you woke up, he found you to be rude, demanding, and possibly even prejudiced against orcs.” I bristle at the description but find myself unable to deny it. “He told me that while he did not think you would be a threat, I still needed to be cautious because you would do or say anything if it meant sparing yourself. That I should not trust you. He did not say anything about you being unaware of what would happen if you lost. He certainly did not tell me you thought it to be a fight to t he death.”

“Well, he’s the only reason I did.” Even if he didn’t like me, I don’t understand why he would do that. I really could have kille d someone.

“I believe you.” Ironstorm sighs and crosses his arms. “While possible, I find it difficult to believe that Advocate Redwish would make an error of omission of this magnitude. Twice: a different one for each of us. Something is not ri ght here.”

I sit there in silence while he stands for two, three, four minutes. He’s thinking, but I don’t know what to do. I’m not really sure what I expect from him now after saying all that. I don’t think we can go back to the way th ings were.

“Come with me.” He gestures for me to get off the couch. I follow him down the hall to the guest room d oor again.

“Oh, come on!” He’s going to lock me in th ere again.

“It is only temporary,” he assures me, though his voice doesn’t sound very convincing. “There are some things I need to discuss with others, things I need to think on. I will return in a f ew hours.”

“You can’t just lock me in a dark room when you don’t want to deal with me.” If this is going to be my new existence, I’d like to at least be able to see. “Can you give me a light or s omething?”

“One moment.” Ironstorm goes back into the living room and returns holding an already lit lantern in one hand and a book in the other. He hands them both to me. “I will be back befor e dinner.”

“Thanks.” The sarcasm drips from my voice as I take th e objects.

I walk in the room of my own accord, placing the lantern on the table and hopping onto the bed, book in hand. I open and pretend to start reading, not looking up when I hear the door being closed. As soon I hear the lock click, I throw the book down in a huff. I’m feeling a little like a bratty teenager, but whatever. I needed to say all of that. I just wish I had some idea of what he’s going to do now.

Eventually my boredom gets the better of me, and I pick the book back up. It’s the one I started the other day on sword technique, the one written by the old soldier. Ironstorm must have been remembered. It’s also the one I hid the hypnograss in. I ignore the guilty feeling nagging at me and start reading again. After the old man finishes talking about his childhood, it’s actually not half bad. He starts to talk about some of his adventures and battles when he was older. He’ll describe a particular fight and what he did during it and then the next couple of pages have diagrams demonstrating his t echniques.

I wish I had a sword or something to practice with. Would certainly make the time go faster. I put the book down and look around the room for anything suitable, spotting a broom in one corn er. Hmm...

A minute later, and I’m standing in the center of the room, book in one hand and broom in the other.

“Okay, so first I raise it up and to the right.” I lift my “sword” over my head, grabbing it just above the bristles. “And then I’m supposed to bring it down and spin...” I try to follow the diagrams, still looking at the book while I do. When I swing downward, I manage to catch my hip on the other end of the broom, which combined with already trying to twist my body around sends me tumbling right to the flo or. “Oww.”

The door handle jiggles, drawing my attention. The lock clicks and the door opens, Ironstorm’s eyes scanning the room for a moment before settling on me on the floor. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah.” I close the book and toss the broom to the side. “Just screwin g around.”

“I think you and I need to have one more talk.” He offers me his hand to h elp me up.

“Okay.” I follow out into the kitchen. I see two small, wrapped packages on the table.

“I got dinner while I was out. Have a seat.” He gestures at the table.

“Wait, like, at the table?” My question is entirel y genuine.

“Yes.” A wry smile crosses his face when we take our seats.

I tear open the paper wrapping on what turns out to be a sandwich. A big one. I eagerly take a bite. It’s some kind of bird. Tastes like the soup we had the other day. I see green hands opening the other sandwich, but no bite is taken.

“First, I want to apologize.” I slow my chewing when he starts talk ing again.

“Why are you being so nice all of a sudden?” I blurt out, unable to help feeling a little paranoid that this might b e a trick.

“Because I think it is possible that over the past few days, I have been taking a little more glee in your distress than necessary. Especially given that the circumstances surrounding the ritual challenge seem murky.” He sets his uneaten sandwich down. “I would like to make you an offer.”

“An offer?” I put mine down too.

“Stay with me for two months until your friends have completed their sentences and are released.”

“So, be your slave for the next two months, and if I behave myself en ough you—”

“No.” He shakes his head, cutting me off. “It is not a test. There are no conditions. You stay with me for two months, and then I will rel ease you.”

“I... Why not just release me now?” It sounds like a nice offer, but I’m not sure I u nderstand.

“I could, but you would most likely be deported immediately afterward,” he admits somewhat s heepishly.

“What! Why?” That se ems harsh!

“Because in the eyes of the city you are a criminal.” Okay, that’s fair. “One from a foreign country with no identification and no money. Every other person you know here is in jail. It is only your tether to me that overrides all of that.”

“So I’m pretty much stuck here then.” Just another thing I don’t really have a choice in.

“It would be in name only.” His voice sounds reassuring. “You would sleep in the guest room. There would be no more cuffs, no more leashes, no more eating from my lap or the floor. You would not have to make any public appearances with me or go out at all. Just live here until you and your friends are able to leave together.”

It sounds like a great offer, really, but ... “Why?”

“Because it is the right thing to do,” he answers somberly. “The events that led to our current situation were already troubling, but to find out the extent in which you were misled... As a result, I have hurt you in ways I could not possibly begin to make up for, and for that I am truly, truly sorry. Letting you stay here is the least I can do.”

“I... Thank you.” Oh boy, that got heavy. My words earlier really got to him. I’m not sure what el se to say.

“Does that sound agreeable to you?” He sounds less s omber now.

“Yes. I accept.” I guess he needs to hear it. I reach across the table to shake his hand.

“Excellent.” With a smile, he shakes my hand before he finally picks up his sandwich and tak es a bite.

The two of us eat in silence, both of our minds too occupied with processing all the information to talk. I’m happy. Right? This is a good thing. I can hang out here , and when the guys get out in two months , we’ll be on our way. It’ll be like none of this ever happened. Still a long time to be stuck in jail but at least they’ll be earning some money while they’re in there. A ctually...

“What am I gonna do all day?” I’m about three-quarters done with my sandwich w hen I ask.

“It may be possible to find you a job in town.” Then I could earn some money of my own. “The language barrier might make things difficult, but I could ask around if anyone is looking for s ome help.”

“Thank you. I’d appreciate that.” He’s really serious about letting me go, isn’t he?

With a smile and a nod, he tucks back into his food and the two of us finish in the next few minutes. After standing and throwing away our trash, Ironstorm washes his hands before turn ing to me.

“I know we did not do too much today, but I am still feeling rather drained, so if you will excuse me, I will be heading to bed.” He crooks his fingers at me. “Just one la st thing.”

I step over to him, unsure of what he wants. He closes the distance and reaches into my shirt, pulling out my collar. He holds the padlock in his hand, and after producing the key from his pocket, u nlocks it.

Oh.

He slips the chain from around my neck, gathering it in his hand wit h the key.

“I thought I had to wear one of those?” Isn’t i t the law?

“I can find you one that is a little more subtle, I think.” He smiles, though I can sense some sadness behind it. “Have a good night, David. There should be some pillows and blankets in the closet in your room. Please remember to put out the lanterns before you g o to bed.”

I nod and watch him turn away and walk down the hall, bedroom door shutting behind him. Withou t me. Wow.

I mean, gre at, right?

I look around the living room, expecting things to look different in light of my newfound freedom. My eyes are drawn to the front door. I could leave right now, but there wouldn’t be much of a point. I wander into the kitchen, spotting the basket full of dar-buk and grabbing a few. I’ve barely ea ten today.

I sit on the couch and snack, not really sure what to do with myself now. He’s really going to let me go, just like that. I mean, not “just like that.” It’s not like I’ve been at a tea party the last five days. Part of me almost feels bad for my friends. They’re imprisoned while I still get a warm bed and good food. Of course, none of them lost their virginity in front of a crowd of people and were then enslaved, so it’s a pretty s mall part.

Khazak—and I guess I can really call him that now—is basically letting me off the hook for everything. Wallowing in my own misery and self-pity the last few days, it was easy to forget that I attacked him and his men...

And almost tried to kill him in th e arena...

And then drugged him and almost destroyed h is career.

Fuck, is that why I feel guilty? I’m not saying I deserved all the...rough handling, but I guess I’m not sure what I’d do or how I’d feel if I were in his position.

After about fifteen minutes of sitting on the couch and staring at the empty fireplace while burying my feelings in pastries, I give up trying to do anything else and call it a night. I blow out the lanterns in the living room and kitchen and head to my new bedroom. It is extremely barebones: blank walls, a bed, a table, and some boxes in the corner. I remove the clothing that I realize I’ve been wearing since last night and grab the bedding from the closet to make up the bed. Maybe I can ask about putting up some pictures or something tomorrow.

I grab the book from the floor and crack it open, but it just doesn’t hold my interest right now. I know I slept like shit last night, but I’m not feeling very tired either. After a few more minutes of trying to get into it, I put the book down, rolling over to blow out the light. I lay in the dark staring at the ceiling, trying not to continuously run the conversations and revelations of the day through in my head, or examine any of the weird feelings I’m having to o closely.

In the end, I just close my eyes until eventually, sleep takes me.