Jenever's Archives

Archives

Home

Credits

The Cage: Dinner Is Served

At this point, their attention was distracted by movement at the perimeter of the cage. A low section on the bars was unbolted - and their food pushed through. Flat bowls, carved from wood, containing a pale yellow thick soup - in which lentils seemed to play a major part. Lumps of coarse black bread. Leather water bottles.

Then the small gate was slammed shut. No-one attempted to enter and free their hands. It was clearly intended that they either ate like animals, helped one another as best they could - or starved.

"When you're done with that," said one of the guards, "we'll be letting you out for exercise. Two at a time."

He looked them over, as though assessing how the pairings should be ordered.

Morgan ignored the guard, kneeling in front of one of the bowls and picking it up with his hands. Then he stood, stepping backwards carefully until he stood away from the food. "Would someone care for some soup? At the least, we can ensure that we do not eat like animals."

Lazarus remained on the floor, cross-legged, his pale eyes now closed and his chin resting on the course cloth of his prison shirt. Damp strands of his dark hair dangled in front of his face almost masking it, but droplets of perspiration could still be seen upon his face. He breathed in deep and regular breaths... slow and even. His chained hands hung limply behind him.

Jenever laughed in appreciation of Morgan's idea. "Excellent!" she said. Then she looked over at her companions. "I think I can manage what he is doing. Those who cannot should eat first."

She crouched carefully before another bowl, caught it in her bound hands and rose slowly. As she made her way to her companions, a mercurial shift of mood was more than apparent on her face.

Jenever, realizing how she appeared, was now white with rage. She placed the bowl carefully on a hay bale, then turned, her eyes blazing, inspecting the bars to see if an entire bowl could be thrown through at the guards, or simply the hot "soup." In her current mood, either seemed reasonable.

As Jenever fumed at the guards, Opal watched Lazarus. "I wouldn't neccessary eat the food," Opal said quietly to the others, almost distractedly. "There's no guarantee they haven't drugged it. It would amuse her to have us suffer as we waited...."

Opal then looked behind her at the cage itself; the iron construction of it. She then closed her own eyes and leaned back against the cage, breathing deeply herself. "Better to focus ourselves than to lose our tempers," she said to no one in particular.

"Simple enough for you to say," Jenever snapped. "You understand this prison, the captors and the reason for all this. All that I know is that I am being degraded by a pair of arrogant freaks for no fault I conceive of, and it cannot be borne."

Violently she turned, grasped the bowl she had just set down, took a few steps towards the bars and then hurled it, in fashion like to a distorted discus, at the bars outside which the guards stood, considering them.

Her aim was not bad, but the bowl did not escape from the bars, rather crashing against them with a dull thunk, and splashing the liquid both inside and out.

As if that tantrum had relieved her of some of her anger, Jenever seemed to relax, and slumped against a haybale in quiet frustration. She could not bear it. She, the Empress of S'jaiteh... her companions could hardly understand, they did not respect her as they ought... She wanted to kill someone, and there was one face in particular that rose in her mind at that thought...

One of the guards jumped back - but not soon enough to prevent his uniform being liberally spattered with thick yellow gunge. He glowered at Jenever, even as his fellow guards roared with laughter at his misfortune.

"Go hungry then, doxy," he snarled. "See if we care if you starve yourselves to death!"

"Good shot," Seth said, nodding. He looked to Morgan and said, "Having thought about it, you're right...I did misconstrue your words. Wrong conclusions all around. My apologies...must be the clubbing."

After a few moments Opal opened her eyes and sat up. She looked around the cage at the others. "The short version of the story," she started. "They are known as the Hunter and the Lady. They are two of the three rulers of Karadon. The third is the Lord of Shadows, whose bier we saw earlier. They are descended from ancient rulers of the land. Some call them descended of the gods. They live for a very long time, over 500 years. Their heirs aren't their children, but those with the same blood line who survive the purges and machinations of their kin. They are completely ruthless in holding onto power. They have enemies, the Auburnii, who are probably descended from the siblings of these gods. Karadon and the Auburnii constantly war with each other. And both sides fear or hate those who have attuned to Plantaxy, the crystals that were taken from us. And, before you ask," Opal smiled thinly, "I don't know why they fear those with Plantaxy."

"That's... intriguing," Jenever said quietly. "One can deduce from the Hunter's comments not only that he enjoys the sound of his own voice, but that he believes us possessed of that blood - either that of his kin, or that of the Auburnii, which seems to be his suggestion in my case. A special blood line, more powerful and longer lasting than others... that does seem to fit."

A loud gasp echoed in the chamber of the cage, as Lazarus jerked his head up and fluttered his eyes open. His breath came in ragged gasps and his face was streaked with sweat. He sat still, trying to control his breathing. There was a slight blush to his normally pallid complexion.

She jerked her head in his direction, coming to her feet in an instant. "What is it? Nightmare?"

It was unimaginably important, Jenever knew, that she keep them all together, and well, for the best hope of escape. Of course, it made for another challenge, as if the challenge of getting out the cage alive were not enough.

Lazarus turned his head to look at Jenever, blinking sweat out of his eyes. "Nightmare?" he asked. "Something like that," he snapped, in an unusually callous tone. With a violent shake of his head, he managed to free most of the hair that was sticking to his face.

After a moment, he stood on unsteady legs and went to an unoccupied bale of straw and sat down with a sigh. "Fardels!" he cursed quietly to himself.

Seth then did a curious thing, moving around until his back was against the bars. He rested his head against them, closed his eyes, and crossed his legs into a classic lotus position. "Not hungry," he said. "Not right now. Need some sleep...at least until they come to walk us. Wake me if something important happens, yes?" And he wearily closed his eyes.

Jenever chuckled to herself about the guard's reaction, and Seth's praise, but then remembered that she had never inspected his injury. She did not wish to bother him as he grasped at the few hours of sleep he might be allowed, so she set about to prepare something for when he awoke. First she carefully contorted herself so that first one foot, then the other fit through the arch of her tightly bound arms. It was a tremendous strain on her shoulders and upper back, and she felt the icy cold metal of the shackles scrape and rip at her flesh, but she ignored it.

She could not, however, ignore the yell from the guards.

"Oi! You! Stop that!"

When she looked up, she saw that the Sergeant in charge had moved close to her. He jerked a hand to his side - then pointed overheard.

Beside him stood the guard she had splashed earlier, with a broad grin on his face and a small but serviceable bow in his hand, cocked and ready. Above her head, a guard on the walkway held a second bow, also aiming the bolt at her.

"First one'll go through your leg," said the Sargeant to Jenever. "Second one through your heart. And my boys are good shots."

Their easy confidence seemed to bear out his words.

Copyrights & Credits

Designed by Aethereality.net
Images © Index Stock
Textures © The Blooming Effect and Hybrid Genesis
Brushes © Relished.net and Cirratus.org and Roshiweb.com