"He's in Melanor..." A coy voice mused.

  "After taking so long with that place, what should you say to make me trust you? It did see you after all. For all you know, they could've fled elsewhere before entering you cogglemite!" A more astounded voice chuckled.

  "With respect, I made it, I should know..." The coy one responded weakly.

  "Then you should retrieve it. If it's dead or alive, it matters not. It's time this ridiculous chase ends. Unless we want to lose our heads like the others."

  "Little worry, Amon. It's all running to plan... But, that woman, she's been there an awful long time..."

  "What of it?"

  "Ah, nothing, it should be fine... But, if I fail, will you kill them?"

  A voice broke into hearty laughter with echoing slams of hollow metal. "Yes! Of course, Feitor..."

  "Well, good..."

  "I'll see you soon, Amon..."

  ***

  A door creaked open with a lonely groan. As it bumped into the nearby wall, light footsteps scuffled closer.

  A muffled voice vibrated into the boy's ear, sounding like a whisper in his slumber.

  His body rocked back and forth across the broad mattress with no response.

  Soon after, something blunt, almost electric, hit his side. When the white-haired boy jolted upright, he caught his scream in a yelp. Breathing heavily, he looked to his right. It was the girl. She held a long broom handle... As he controlled his breathing, the girl mumbled, "Well, look, the creature awakes. Y'know, there isn't a lot of people who decide to wake up so peacefully after being beaten by a stick."

  Sat in silence, he observed the sunlight streaming through the window. The shock was clearly written on his face. When he finally realized, he spun to the girl before he muttered quietly, "Why aren't you whispering..."

  With a raised brow, she clicked her tongue. "You've been asleep for ten hours. Of course I'm not whispering. If you couldn't tell, this room has a window."

  "Actually, it's quite surprising how sunny it is after last night."

  Pausing, she observed him with a silent contemplation.

  "They didn't tell you?" she asked.

  Tilting his head, he squinted, "Tell me what... Why would they tell me anything?"

  Casually leaning on the broom handle, she rolled her eyes. "Right... well, they wanted me to wake you. They're leaving." She giggled. "Ah, the look on their face."

  Clutching the side of the bed frame, he rose slightly from the mattress.

  "Now?" His voice came out dry and hoarse with widened eyes. She quickly replied, "You might want to-" Before she could finish, he threw his legs over and stood in a single motion.

  Not a second later his vision slowly darkened; head grew cold; and limbs began to tingle. Before he could react, pressure built in his head making him crash into the nearby wall. While he crutched against it, the girl cackled. "That’s why you don’t stand up quickly. Are you a baby?"

  Readjusting himself, he asked timidly, "What do you want?"

  "To leave," she responded flatly.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  He quietly replied, "What are you talking about..."

  "No one believes us until they reach the village border. So, you'll know when you get back."

  "Shame those people have to be trapped here with us though."

  "Elia and Garrick?" he chimed.

  Kicking the bottom of the broom handle, it pivoted over her shoulder. "Yes! It's not hard to see those people aren’t here to take care of you."

  Looking him over, she huffed, "As frail as you are, by your looks, I'm guessing you're my age..."

  Counting his fingers one by one, he arrived at two open hands; Watching him do this, her face twisted into a grin.

  "Guess I was right," she unenthusiastically cheered. "Why would people like that travel with a ten-year-old in such a poor state..."

  "Don't get me wrong, we've had folk alike come through before." her face distorted ever-so-slightly as she continued, "My mother likes to help anyone that comes through, for some reason... and this is a common route for smugglers----but they tend to die fast. Not like they'd know what they've walked into."

  She sighed, "Though, this is the first time It's been a kid that came through. Let alone someone with such... colorful features."

  Spinning on her heel, she approached the open doorway.

  "It's not our place to intrude, and I don’t want trouble."

  "But, around here, the saying was fortune favors the bold. Aurin, I think you might be the only person that'll apply for it in a long time."

  Trailing out of the doorway, she echoed, "Don’t forget it!"

  Left bathing in rays of sunlight that shone through the foggy window, the muffled sounds of birds outside slowly filled the creaky living space with life. Scratching the side of his head, he pulled a tuft of his orange hair into vision.

  'Is it really that special?

  'Actually... how does she know my name?'

  When he let his arm fall, he winced at the stabbing pain under his tunic. Clenching his side, he lifted his shirt to see a reddened blotch turning blue on his ribs. Gritting his teeth, he lowered his tunic and arm. Moving into the hall, he glanced back at the room with a forced smile. His legs still felt weak, and his throat felt like it was filled with sand.

  As he descended the staircase, he heard distant voices behind the wall. He already surmised it was Elia and Garrick, but it made him feel ill. Once he reached the base he glanced left. Both were stood beside the exiting door; the other two were yet to be seen.

  Frozen in place, he heard the woman stamp out from the left doorway. In her hand, she carried a long leather waterskin. Pointing at him, she said softly, "Ah, she said you might want this." As she offered it out, he hesitated grabbing it before finally giving in. Giving a weak smile, she said, "Don’t be afraid to drink some here, Aurin."

  While Garrick watched this interaction, his mouth opened to say something, back as the woman turned around, he quickly closed it shut again.

  Holding the water skin up, his eyes widened, 'It's the size of my head!'

  Unscrewing the cork, the relief it offered was short-lived by the rustic stale taste that seared his mouth.

  Coughing into his sleeve, Elia chimed from down the hall, "Alright... with that out of the way, I think we’ll be leaving..."

  The woman glanced over to the pair with an unnervingly still smile, "That you will."

  Gently pushed forward by the woman’s hand, he awkwardly stumbled forward with the waterskin between his arms. Opposite to when the woman opened the door, when Garrick clenched the handle, it gave an awful rustic screech. Witnessing Elia's eye twitch, she tugged his wrist as they passed onto the street. When they turned around, both the girl and woman stood in the doorway.

  Both were waving, but... neither of his captors seemed to reciprocate the gesture, let alone acknowledge it.

  As they began to walk, a bitter cramp clung to his chest. Fumbling the waterskin in his arms, he struggled to hold it up. But as he managed to slip his left arm out, he returned a shy wave below Elia and Garrick's line of sight.

  Watching the doorway creep out of view, he heard the distant click of the door shut without much sound. Knots of emotion caught in his throat----feeling as if they could strangle him to death.

  Looking down at the road, he silently clung to the waterskin.

  Without paying attention to the two of them, he heard Garrick mumbling down stiffly, "What a kind gift, should save us some time with supplies... any last swigs, kid?"

  Slowly raising his head, he stared blankly at Garrick.

  'Swigs?'

  Rolling his eyes, Garrick grabbed the top of the waterskin with a tug, it didn’t budge... A dark expression eventually crept onto his face before he sighed, "What's the point?" He glanced behind at Elia. "See, this is why we don't let them have nice things."

  She was a good bit behind them, but all that was heard was a tired groan.

  Giving it another strong pull, it stayed resistant in Aurin's arms. Shutting his eyes, he shook his head. Crumbling to his knees, he curled around the waterskin.

  The moment he did, both of their footsteps came to an early halt.

  While the world he could see was black, a single pair of boots crunching on splinters and shattered bricks approached his side.

  Before he opened his eyes, the echo of a sharp slap cut through the alleyways between buildings. Flinching, he raised both hands to his head as an instinctive reaction. The resounding crash of a sack-like object hit the solid ground.

  Not very soon after, the smell of dust-filled wind rushed by.

  It was silent...

  End of Chapter 5