6. Callum

six

Callum

The layers upon layers of these rocks never cease to amaze me, each one telling a story etched in the lines and patterns on its surface. How many millions of years ago did this mighty mountain take shape? The mere thought of that depth of time is humbling, as I lie beneath this ancient wonder.

Was it before, even, The War of the Gods? Does this mountain know the touch of Chromeus? Perhaps this mountain is where he stood and made his greatest decision: to end the life of his own child. A rogue agent amongst the Gods, working to unseat his father and causing dissent among the others.

I picture him, with his flowing white beard and gnarled Staff of Power, atop the snowy peaks above. Did he know that his decision that day would ultimately lead to the downfall of his family, the Chromatic Gods? Sure, they're still puttering around the Holy Isle, but their days of greatness are long over.

An involuntary hum rolls through my chest. My fingers trace a thin vein of copper trailing just beside my worn cot, which squeaks beneath my shifting weight. Even after so much time in this dungeon, I can't help but marvel at its cool, unyielding texture. I sink into the old cushion, once again debating the merits of asking Tairyn for a notebook and pen to jot down my observations on the strata. My musings of the past.

A lump of stone forms in my chest at the idea of asking that monster for anything. Besides, he'd probably use the notes against me somehow. Better to never give him a peek into the inner workings of my mind.

Footsteps echo outside the cramped space of my prison cell, stirring the silence. I glance at the half-eaten tray from my midday meal discarded against the iron door of the otherwise stone cavern. It's too soon for them to return with dinner. My ears twitch to listen closer. Not one, but two sets of footsteps, a chorus of boots against stone. But beyond that, there's something else dragging beside them.

Suddenly, an odd sensation creeps up my arm. The faint whisper of magic, cold and slippery. Curiosity piqued, I roll over to peer through the metal bars of my door, waiting for them to approach my cell. As far as I know, I'm the only prisoner he's ever taken. The lone occupant of this level.

"He said to make her comfortable," says a chuckling guard I've come to call Yellow Teeth.

Her? Now, I must know what is going on.

Short and scarred, Yellow Teeth's cruelness seems only second to his stench. Grunty simply huffs an agreement. In all my time in this cell, I've never heard him say a word despite my many attempts to pull him into a conversation.

I hurry to the door just in time to see them dragging a feminine body between them, but her features are hidden between the two dullards. I try to catch a hint of her scent after they've passed, but it's obscured by Grunty and Yellow Teeth. There's also a hint of Tairyn and something else vaguely familiar, but I can't place my finger on it.

There's some quick shuffling in the cell next to mine as they drag his newest prisoner inside and lock the door.

"She looks comfy to me, eh?" Yellow Teeth jokes before turning on his heels.

"Who is that?" I call to them as they pass, my voice hoarse from disuse.

Grunty kicks the door to silence me, but I can't quell this curiosity. "Tell me."

I cringe at the pathetic plea on my lips. What have these months of captivity turned me into?

"No talkin', no noise," Yellow Teeth grinds out, his raspy voice bouncing down the stone hallway. They retreat without another word, leaving me in the chilling silence that follows them.

The faint whisper of magic tingles at my fingertips again. My palms press against the cold stone floor as I inch closer to the wall adjoining our cells. I pause, listening. Nothing, just the steady drip of water somewhere in the distance.

Then, a soft whimper breaks through the quiet.

"Hello?" My voice is barely audible before being swallowed by the dense emptiness. A moment of silence is my only answer. Determined, I press my ear against the cool metal door, straining to catch any sound from the other cell. I hear a soft whimper, shrouded in a shuffling noise, as if someone is trying to tiptoe.

"Are you alright?" I wince at my own stupidity. Of course, she's not alright. She's in Tairyn's dungeon.

Silence.

"Can you hear me?" I try again, my voice low, trying to cut through the stillness that has settled around us. A soft, tentative voice emerges from the darkness. "Who… who are you?"

Her voice is frail, barely above a whisper, and it seems it's all she can do to ask the question. For some reason, hearing her speak ignites a spark of hope within me, along with a sinking suspicion of who this female might be. To Tairyn. And to me.

My heart races, fear and dread about everything and nothing all at once. I open my mouth to reply, but the words die at the tip of my dry tongue. Surely, Tairyn wouldn't stoop so low as this.

The voice, stronger this time, more alert as if finally waking up, calls out. "Sunder? Is that you?"

Something twists in my chest at being called another male's name. I swallow the pangs of something incomprehensible and force myself to croak out an answer. "My name is Callum."

"Do you know where they took Sunder or Bobble? Two large fae warriors who were with me."

Her voice is pitched with panic. An edge of pain laces the question.

"I'm sorry. You're the first person I've seen that isn't Tairyn or one of his goons in… months? I'm not exactly sure how long I've been here."

I steel myself for the oncoming puddle of sobs next door, bracing myself for the sense of helplessness I know will overcome me. I don't think I can handle any more despair, but for her I'll be strong. Yet before I even finish my words, the metal door of her cell is clanging as she rips and yanks on it in a fit of rage.

"Tairyn! You son of a bitch! If you've hurt them, I swear on everything you find holy, I will exact my slow and painful revenge. FUCKERRR!"

Not the distressed damsel I initially assumed, then.

The last word echoes down the dank corridors of the dungeon, and I can't help but let out a choked laugh. It has been so long since I've heard anyone stand up to Tairyn. Despite the dire circumstances, it's refreshing. I press my cheek against the cold stone and just listen to her labored breathing slowly return to normal.

"Callum?" Her voice is softer now, but I can still hear the underlying strength in it.

"Yes?"

"Do you know where we are?"

I shake my head, forgetting for a moment that she can't see me. "I have some guesses, but I can't be certain," I admit. "Somewhere deep underground, an ancient mountain. From the different sediments evident in my walls, I've determined this must be in the Western Slopes due to the high concentration of-"

"How far are the Western Slopes from the Litwood Forest?"

A part of me bristles slightly as my pent-up observations were just about to pour out of me. Although… yes. That can wait. Prioritize information.

"The Litwood? At least a week's ride. Why?"

"That's the last place I remember being. It's where my… friends were."

The pause before the words friends demands my notice, like my mind desperately wants to analyze a profound hesitation. A discovery. I press my hand over my chest, a vain attempt to still my nerves. If this woman is who I think she may be…

"Are you hurt?" I ask, almost fearful of the response. What could I even do if she's bleeding to death on the other side of this wall?

"No, no. I'm… fine." She says it like she's almost surprised by her answer. "I'm Mira."

Even the letters of her name tickle some deep part of my subconscious mind. A knowing.

I must be imagining this.

"What song is that?" she asks. I cock my head in confusion, listening for a hint of music that may be echoing from above. "The one you were humming just now."

I was humming? I rewind the moment, paying closer attention to myself. I suppose I was humming. "A traveling troupe passed through the city I was staying in the night before I met Tairyn. I guess that melody stuck with me."

She gives a thoughtful hum.

My fingertip aches, and I glance down to see it wrapped up in a fray thread of my shirt hem turning blue. Absently, I unwrap it and wrap a different finger instead. I open my mouth to explain the unique sediment patterns just as Mira says, "So, what'd you do to get in here?"

A stab of anxiety rips through my chest. It's not as though Tairyn read me a list of charges before bringing me here.

I don't know. It's the truest response I have. Sure, there's speculation to be had, but that's not the same as the truth. In fact, it all felt very sudden and out of place.

My mind flashes back to that day in the Great Library of Azuryn. I always loved that great hall. The quietest of all the Great Libraries. The monks who run it take a vow of silence. I was flipping through pages of Remorse, Lexicon of Echoes, when he took the seat next to me.

I suspected immediately who he was. A scent, a feeling. Something about him resonated deep inside me. And no one sits at the same table, much less in the next chair. He began with making idle chitchat about a grimoire laying discarded in my stack. I found him to be both informed and opinionated, a combination of qualities I enjoy engaging.

The subject of our connection to one another didn't arise at all. I suspect he was feeling me out. At the end of our whispered debate, he asked me to meet him again later that evening in a tavern, as he had some business to attend. After agreeing, I reached over to shake his hand and his eyes glazed over. It was so fast, so subtle. I would have missed it had I not been looking for recognition between us when we touched. Looking back with my current knowledge, I can only assume he had some vision about me.

"We met in a taproom one evening. It was our second encounter. Both were friendly debates. One moment, we were discussing politics and the ongoing conflict on the Holy Isle. The next, I wake up here. That's all I know for certain."

"Ok, so you're not a murderer or anything. That's good to know."

Amusement creeps up inside me as I glance down at my newly blue finger. "No, not to my knowledge."

"I'm going to find a way out of here. You can come with me."

The certainty in her tone is refreshing. The clear intention communicated so simply yet fiercely. Soothing even to the vast array of unknown unknowns constantly swirling in my mind.

I almost believe her.