* * * * *
That second night in the cell with Santorray was worse than the first one. Hunger challenged Thorik’s already tender stomach, but it was the dehydration and the bugs that were bothering him the most. He curled up in a ball on the damp floor, brushing off the flies that were trying to get at the Num’s blood stained dressings covering his stomach.
“I can’t sleep,” Thorik moaned.
Santorray was still leaning against the wall, watching the dark corridor. “It’s wise that you don’t. I’m surprised we survived this long without an assassination attempt. There must be something more pressing going on than to rid themselves of our voices.”
“I’ve got to get back to Ericc and convince him to come with us.”
“I’m not sure your stomach can take another cut. You Nums have soft skin.”
“There has to be another way.”
“We’ll have to see what presents itself.”
“Any chance you could let me know prior?”
“There wasn’t any time to discuss it. If the guards had seen us whispering, before the fight, they would have assumed it was a ruse.”
The two large doors at the end of the corridor crashed open, echoing though the cells as a strong narrow beam of light pierced the darkness.
Thorik sat up and watched the light turn into each cell and then back down the corridor as someone shouted questions to inmates, followed by screams of pain. The process continued cell by cell advancing toward the Num and Blothrud. An ominous heavy cat growl resonated behind the yelling.
Nerves overcame pain as Thorik looked to Santorray for comfort.
Santorray’s tiny thin black hairs on his head and face stood on end as he exposed his teeth and squinted his eyes to focus on the coming terror. Drool dripped from his exposed gums as his instincts prepared him for battle.
If Thorik’s skin could glow from turning sheer white, it would have done so at that moment. Edging past the cell wall was the nose of a giant black panther whose mouth could swallow the Num whole. Riding the cat was a young baldheaded man with thick tattoo designs running from his forehead, behind his ears, and down past his neckline. His quarterstaff illuminated his way, changing focus and strength at the rider’s will.
Flashing a sun-searing light into the face of Santorray, the rider stared at the Blothrud.
Thorik watched as a second figure emerged. A man-sized shadow walked through the bars, entering their cell. Even the intense light from the staff couldn’t penetrate the figure. A cold chill ran up Thorik’s back as he watched the thick dark figure of a man walk up to Santorray and reach inside the Blothrud’s chest with one hand.
Santorray bucked, arched his back and swiped at the invader with his knuckle spikes, which passed through the shadowy figure without disruption. “What do you want?” the Blothrud asked, gasping for breath.
Light from the rider’s staff focused tightly on the Altered’s eyes, as the man answered the question with one of his own. “What do you know of Ericc Dovenar’s escape?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Santorray forced out.
The bald rider didn’t like the answer. “Civej, refresh this Del’s memory.”
Responding to his master’s orders, Civej placed his second hand up into Santorray’s skull.
The Blothrud screamed in pain, swinging wildly at the dark shadow in front of him. “I don’t know where he is!”
“Do you know where he would be going?”
Civej’s hand created a pain a hundred fold of any headache. Every sound and bit of light seemed to scramble his brain and intensify the issue. “I haven’t seen him. I don’t know.” His words were broken as he struggled to get them out.
“Civej, that’s enough with him. See if the Num knows anything,” the rider said, pointing the beam of light onto Thorik’s face.
Thorik cowered back up against the prison wall, knowing full well that if Ericc had actually escaped, he would be heading for Corrock to attack Darkmere.
Civej released Santorray, whose body went limp from the torture, and stepped over to Thorik. The thick vaporish figure’s feet never actually touched the ground as he floated over to him.
“I don’t know any more than Santorray,” Thorik exclaimed trying to prevent the same fate as his unconscious companion.
“Santorray?” Civej’s master replied, turning the light back onto the Blothrud, who had collapsed on the floor. “It is you. What has become of the hero that you would end up in such a place?” he asked Santorray, knowing he couldn’t reply.
Shifting the light back to Thorik, the Num could see the silhouette of Civej standing in front of him, ready to apply pain.
“Are you a friend of Santorray?” the rider asked.
Thorik quickly considered his options. Yes or no? One of these answers may prevent them finding out where Ericc is headed. “We have saved each other’s life. I don’t know if you would say he’s a friend.” Thorik took a deep swallow hoping he had worded the answer properly.
“You saved the life of the mighty Santorray? An Ergrauthian Elite? The only Blothrud to stand up against the immortal Ergrauth himself and live to tell about it. You saved his life?”
Thorik sheepishly replied, “Yes.”
A subtle chuckle came from the rider of the giant panther. “Then you are truly a legend to be talked about. Unfortunately, legendary Num, today I must ensure you don’t have any knowledge about Ericc’s escape.” Nodding his head, Civej went to work, placing one hand into Thorik’s chest, grabbing his lungs and squeezing them tight.
Thorik screamed out in pain. “Please! No!” is all he could utter before his air in his lung was exhausted.
The rider’s light focused thinly on the Num’s eyes. “Tell me what you know about Ericc Dovenar’s whereabouts. Someone must have talked to him and heard his plans.”
A second shadowy hand entered Thorik’s head, shooting pain in an overloading capacity. Civej accessed Thorik’s thoughts, allowing his master to absorb them through the beam of light. Pulling his memories so intensely, it began to leave parts of his brain hollow and without life. It would not take long for Thorik to lose all his memories or even his life.
Thorik’s childhood memories of his parents began to fade, as well as his months of being stranded on the palm islands. The extraction was painful, as though the thoughts were being burned out with a flame caused by the rider’s intense light from his staff.
Thorik couldn’t take it any longer. It was too excruciating. He’d tell him anything he wanted to know to stop the torture. So, he finally broke. “Ericc,” His mind was becoming mush as he struggled to formulate words. “Ericc!”
The intense light quickly pulled away, followed by the removal of Civej’s hands. Thorik overheard shouting about guards found dead and Ericc’s escape path being discovered. One guard shouted to the man on the panther, “Lord Bredgin, he escaped through the east tower and was spotted heading north toward Swardfar.”
The Num’s eyes were blurry as he began to pass out. His last view, as he tumbled over to his side, was of the shadow demon being pulled into a box held by the rider, Lord Bredgin. Snapping the lid of the small box shut, the bald man tucked it away before racing away on his giant panther.
And then all went dark.
Chapter 9
Escape Plan