Two weeks had pa.s.sed since that incident. Every night, the sisters would come and change my bandages. They'd sometime dress me and deliver me to that hateful smith. I was his plaything. His guards took care of subduing and binding me. This was my proof. I had died, now doomed to live in eternal agony. This was my h.e.l.l.

I was lying on my bed after another bout with the smith. I blankly stared at the ceiling. I couldn't feel anything anymore. My mind was blank. Perhaps even my heart had stopped beating. I felt like a meat stuffed puppet. I didn't have the right to speak or fight back. I'd get a blunt mace to the ribs or knees if I a dared struggle.

I heard hinges complain as someone pushed the door to my cell. Eli came to visit me twice since I was enclosed in this hateful place. Today was his third visit. He sat next to me, arms crossed. They'd just removed my bandages. He looked at my shriveled body and fractured arm. I was missing an eye too. It took him one glance before he looked away.

"I'm sorry brother," he said in a whisper. He was looking at the ground.

"You didn't do anything. It was all my fault," my voice was coa.r.s.e. I could barely move a muscle. "They won't let me fight again, will they?"

"The Hound isn't known to give second chances. I heard the guards talk. They say your execution's late because of some fella." He was still looking at the ground.

"The smith?" I asked.

"We all know what Jory did to you Stalwart. No one's happy about it, but it's the nature of this place. The one delaying your execution goes by a different name though." Eli looked at me. It wasn't pity I saw in his eyes.

I saw something terrible, foreboding. I didn't want to know who it was. I wanted to s.h.i.+eld myself from the terrible truth. But my curiosity was stronger than my fear. Like a moth drawn to fire I asked. "Then who is it?"

"His name's Samuel Kristo. Do you know who he is?"

My heart skipped a beat. I almost jumped up but my injuries reminded me of my current state. "The f.u.c.k's he doing here?"

"I was hoping you'd tell me," Eli answered me.

"I wasn't asking you. Help me sit, my back's sorer than my grandmother's." With some extra help, I managed to straighten up. I looked at my not-so-skinny-anymore friend in the eyes. His resolve and hate never faded away. "When will he arrive?" I asked.

"They say in two days," he told me. "What's in your mind Stalwart?"

"What's that rumor you wanted to tell me about?" I asked, "the one about the moons."

"Stalwart, with your current condition-"

"Just tell me," I urged. "I won't do anything reckless."

"I'll tell you, but you've got to tell me who's this Kristo first."

Ah an ultimatum, how I hated those! "Fine," I said. "He's a childhood friend. I hear he's become quite influential around the world."

"You mean he's not here to watch your execution?" Eli was smiling.

How could anybody genuinely care about a stranger? We were but pigs destined for slaughter. I never cared about anyone in this dump. But this man cared and visited me. I never thought I'd make such a friend under these circ.u.mstances.

"The moon," I insisted. "I answered your question, now's your turn."

"You'll tell me about your friend after that, won't you?"

"You'll get to see by yourself anyway. Just, please Eli, we're running out of time," I glanced at the door, worried that the guards would barge in at any moment and take him away.

"There are three moons that show up in the sky every year right?" he asked.

"Yes, Blond, Azure and Red," I answered.

"And there's the Pale Moon," Eli said then stopped, expecting my incredulous reaction.

"Go on," I urged.

"You won't mock my theory again?"

"We don't have much time. Tell me what you know. I'll explain everything later."

"It's just," I swore I saw disappointment in his face, "I'm used to people dismissing my theory. I always prepare a detailed sales pitch for it."

"Eli, please get to the point."

"The Pale, or Eternal Moon is rumored to grant you any wish. You can become stronger than the Archmage himself."

"And you know how to summon it," I commented.

"How do you know it needs to be summoned?" Eli asked, his eyebrows raised.

"Mother used to tell me. I never believed her stories."

"What makes you believe them now?"

"Samuel's coming to ask for my help. He's done it before and he'll do it again," I answered. "Say, do you want to get out of here?"

Eli looked at me, horrified. "Are you out of your mind?" he tried to whisper as much as an angry man could. "You trying to get us killed?" he was whispering this time, his voice almost inaudible.

"I don't mean escape." I started laughing but pain reminded me to stay calm. "Sam is here to take me out. I suspect he'll try to summon the moon this time."

"The Hound will never allow it," Eli protested.

"Don't underestimate Kristo," I retorted. "Perhaps he's not famous now, but I believe in him. I'm certain he's here to take me out."

"You've gotten awfully hopeful again," Eli said. He'd noticed the improvement in my mood. "After all you've been through…"

"What Jory did is nothing. You clearly don't know what the Church is capable of," I was shouting. I only realized it when my voice echoed in the cell I was kept in.

"The Church sent you here. You think your friend will be allowed to easily walk away with two prisoners?"

"Do you want to get out of here?" I asked again.

"But what you're suggesting is madness!" Eli screamed.

The door to my cell opened and two armored men got in. "I need an answer," I told him as the guards escorted him out.

"Yes!" he told me before the door closed.

The night went on. I was alone in my cell. The Sisters came to empty my s.h.i.+t pot then left me to deal with my thoughts. Kristo came to get me out of this place. If there's anyone who'd hate the Church more than I do, it would be Sam. And if the Hound had delayed my execution because of him, it would only mean that he succeeded.

By the time roosters started crowing, I was dreaming. I saw myself in a small hut by the woods. A woman sat on a chair on the other side of the table. She'd scattered some old bones, and now she was reading through them. I sat there quietly. I didn't believe in fortune telling. My men talked me into it, I remembered.

"You've killed your first man when you were but a boy," the woman said in her hoa.r.s.e voice. She rolled the "r" and emphasized the "t". Her smooth raven hair fell behind her shoulders. Her purple eyes looked at me. I didn't know what she thought of me. But I knew what I wanted from her.

"You live a violent life," she went on. "You're probably thinking of raping me right now. Your men would never listen to you. They'd rather slit your throat here than lay a finger on me."

"I don't see why anyone should fear you. From where I sit, your neck looks easy to break," I said while smiling. I wasn't always like that. I had to pretend in order to blend in. Next thing I know, I wasn't pretending anymore.

"Your mother must miss you," the fortune teller told me.

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"My mother's dead," I retorted. I felt anger building up.

"Your mother's been taken care of. That boy with fair skin still brings her medicine."

"And I'm supposed to take your word for it," I mockingly commented.

"You can see for yourself," she glanced at the bones then at me. Was she inviting me to look at my own fortune?

"Those bones belong to the dead," I said. "The dead don't talk!"

"Just look at them," she urged. "The witch you took to the island saw something in you. I see it now."

"How do you know about that?" I've never told any of my men about that episode of my life.

"Look at the bones Stalwart," the fortune teller told me.

I only glanced at them but what I saw made me look even more. I saw the oldest of my sisters, laughing as another man offered her flowers then kissed her on the cheek. I saw my friend helping my bedridden mother get up, made her drink the medicine then cleaned her frail body. My useless father was blindly looking for his bottle. He'd just woken up.

Tears trickled down my cheeks. The fortune teller had become a blur. I felt my men put their arms around mine and pull me away from the chair. I struggled and shouted, I wanted to see my family. I wanted to look at them, forever.

"Time to change your clothes Stalwart;" a woman's voice reached my ears.

I looked around me and saw the cell. My bones ached and my heart bled. I was back to that depressing dump.

'Not for long!' I told myself.

"Where are we going?" I asked the Sister.

"Jory requires your presence," the Sister answered. My heart sank.

"Has Eli come to see me when I was asleep?" I asked.

"For the last time Stalwart," the Sister said as she covered my private parts with clean linen. "No one's come to see you since you lost the fight. Jory wouldn't let them." The Sister pitied me. I could feel it in her voice.

"You belong to him now Stalwart. You'd better be a good boy. I don't like the sight of blood," she told me as she helped me put my clothes on.

I was led to a s.p.a.cious dining room. A crystal chandelier hung on the ceiling. A solid oaken table stood between me and that piece of s.h.i.+t. He carefully cut his meat then picked it up with a silver fork. He looked at me, smiled then started chewing. I wished I could smash that round nose of his. I wished I could shatter his knee as he almost did to mine. Instead, I sat next to him when he invited me to.

"You look crestfallen Stalwart," he said as he chewed on his rare meat. "Cheer up kid. You'd be dead if I didn't save you back then."

'I wish I died back then,' I found myself thinking.

"The kindness you've done me can never be repaid," I said instead. I was taught these words by the Sisters. They warned me that he'd cut my legs and keep using me if I refused to cooperate. I would've chosen that, but I realized that the stupid smith was feeding me better than the Hound.

"The kindness I've done you?" the smith scoffed. "I paid a fortune to keep you alive. The Church wants you dead boy. Do you think the Hound would easily hand you over to me?"

Meat was served on my plate. I couldn't look at the man. I feared revealing my rage and hate towards him. I didn't want him to suspect anything. I wanted to die. I never signed up for repet.i.tive ****. And if I couldn't die, then I'd kill everyone around me. I'd burry this place underground or die trying. But I needed my strength to do so. There was a price I had to pay to kill Jory after all.

"Look at me when you're spoken to boy!" Jory violently stabbed the meat on my platter. The thought of shoving the silver knife in his eye was appealing. I fought hard to chase the angry thoughts away then looked at my captor, my tormentor.

"Apologies my lord," I said. "I had a nightmare. My thoughts are in shambles."

"You've learned to speak properly." Jory smiled. He let go of the knife, picked another from the table then resumed eating. "You should eat. I have a pleasant night planned for us."

I had no appet.i.te, especially after thinking of what that man had in store for me. I reluctantly picked the knife, directed my anger at the piece of meat in front of me and chewed on it. I had to rebuild my strength.

"You still have to learn how to eat properly boy," he said. He flicked his finger and a guard appeared next to me.

"Don't hit the face," he told the brute. "It's already ugly as it is."

I felt the mail gauntlet strike my right ribs. I took the hit without flinching, lest another punch unleash h.e.l.l upon me. It hurt but silence was better than groaning. The deranged smith smiled then dismissed the guard.

"Remember your manners boy, always!" he warned as he finished his plate. He stood up then left towards his study.

"Finish your meal. The guards will escort you to the garden. Today's a full moon. I hear our feral instinct becomes unstable during such nights. It shall be glorious!"