Ditan dangled from his ankles, mercifully spared from the hooks in favor of simple knotted rope. It was only a matter of time before they went back to that, he knew. Eilic had stripped him bare once more, unwilling to leave him a sense of modesty.
He roughly knew that a few days had passed, punctuated by nights of torture and days of hallucination. Ylane came at times, coaxed into healing him during their travel. The Red escorted her. Sariam seemed to have taken the young girl under her wing. His classmate seemed fine, though she struggled to move. He’d seen the bloody streaks on her back. Through it all, he hadn’t seen Trynneia.
Swaying as the wagon rolled down the road, Ditan remained delirious. The Sentinels had provided him very little food and only dribbles of water. Enough to keep me alive, but not much else, he knew. Everything is designed to keep me down.
Each wall continued to shimmer, his aborted attempt to break the sigils a fading memory already. His head remained fogged by the presence of the Sentinels, and the elements hadn’t communicated with him at all. I’m less than nothing, and they treat me as such.
His hand and severed wrist dangled just above the crusty, drying remains of his diarrhea, left to fall beneath him, mingling with his blood. The stench never left his nostrils, an intentional reminder that every action the Sentinels perpetrated served the sole intention of breaking his mind and spirit.
Come on guys, I need yer help or I’ll never get out of here, he implored the elements. He knew it wouldn’t work, but tried anyway. I thought ya’ll were sunshines and rainbows.
“Light help me, I will show these Sentinels a thing or two about hospitality when I get free. Seems they need to learn its meanin’.” The first day they’d hung him like this, he’d tried to pull himself up, but had quickly tired. With the diminishing amount of food, he’d given up entirely. “Firstaways, I’d let them at least have some food.”
“Come on, come on, come on,” he said. “I know yer there,” he urged, squinting his eyes shut tight then reopening them several times, hoping to catch a glimpse of the elements. The dim light let through the door window bars showed him just the drying muck beneath him.
-Rest-
Ditan wanted to. Sleep eluded him, replaced by periods of truncated unconsciousness when his mind gave up and fled, allowing him to abandon his situation for minutes at a time. All too soon it ended, replaced by the waking, tortured haze that had become his existence.
Thin cuts had been torn down his back, left to fester through the day. Eilic never demanded anything from him. Instead, he came after the wagons circled for the evening, entering to administer his punishment with that cold, clinical gaze. Dispassionate. Ditan tried his hardest not to respond, since he knew the Sentinel wanted him to suffer. Denying Eilic that pleasure became his goal, but one he failed to achieve daily. Sariam would bring Ylane after and keep him from dying, but not much else.
This torture makes no sense. It’s suffering for suffering’s sake, he pondered. Knowing it meant nothing didn’t satisfy him, and he knew that was probably the point. Keep me in pain and on edge. I can’t use my powers if I’m too worried about not dying. Well, they messed with the wrong goblin, for sure.
He turned his head to the side and pissed. There was no other option, and by now he’d gotten used to feeling it bounce off his stomach before dripping down his neck and ears, then into his hair. As long as he could keep most of it out of his mouth.
“Never thought I’d see the day where I’d piss all over myself and be used to it,” he said. “Light. I can’t hold their attention any more than I already do. That’s barely at all.”
Ditan looked around the wagon, hoping to find some other way to get in trouble. He’d already decided to embrace the torture, preferring that a renewed interest in Eilic punishing him would keep the Sentinel away from the girls. He chuckled weakly at how pathetic that sounded.
“I can’t be a lightning rod if I can’t summon lightning. What was it father used to say? ‘Each column is a sum of its strengths and the difference of its weaknesses.’ Just gotta calculate the right result from all this.
“Remain upbeat. That’s what I’ve gotta do. When life hands you lemons, don’t grip it with the left hand. Can’t do that nohow. All I’ve got are my wits and humor. Sourpuss Eilic has neither,” he said.
He could reach none of the torture implements in the wagon, not that he wanted to. “What would be the point? My reach is short and my strength is gone. I can’t fight back, not that way. Words it is, I guess”
The wagon halted. Both suns set and he began to smell food from outside. Amid the bustle of the caravan settling in for the evening, his stomach grumbled. Nothing could be more torturous to him than the savory smell of meat sizzling and a stew brewing. Back home he looked forward to a bite at the Harvest Hearth or something his parents might have cooked. Long ago, it seemed, since he’d had such luxury, though he’d never considered it such at the time.
Evening deepened. Laughter and idle chatter drifted through his window, though it sounded muffled or distorted. The Eluvans knew how to have a good time, and thought nothing of the man kept in confinement as they relaxed from the day’s journey.
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He hoped Trynneia and Ylane fared well, even if he didn’t. Just the prospect that they enjoyed a modicum of freedom helped keep depression away. The Sentinels could do whatever they wished to him as long as they remained safe.
Footsteps approached. Someone rapped on the walls. “How ya doin, gobbo!” Eilic. The same, uncaring tone he always had made it more of an exclamation than a question. Ditan knew the Sentinel didn’t have any concern for his well-being.
The sigils shimmered, flaring briefly as the door unlocked and Eilic flung it open. Ylane stood next to him, cowering. In the gloom of the lantern she held, he could see the worry and fear on her face, even as he dangled.
“See, Ylane? He didn’t bleed out. You were so, so worried,” Eilic said as he stepped up, lending a hand to the girl to pull her in as well. “Gobbos are resilient, aren’t you?”
“That word seems big to me, Eilic. Can ya dumb it down for me?” Lightning rod. “I’m not quite sure what ya meant.”
Eilic finished helping the girl climb in, then turned around and punched Ditan full-force in the stomach. He groaned painfully, thankful that the meager food he’d had in the morning had long since passed through him. “One of these days, you’ll engage your brain before you speak,” Eilic said.
“Maybe that’s the point,” Ditan said. “I think you broke that connection.”
A dagger flashed across his chest three times in rapid succession, their stinging bite delayed as the shock set in. Blood splattered onto Ylane’s face with each swing. Eilic’s deranged face leered in the lantern-light.
“I’ll show you a broken connection. Girl!” Eilic yanked Ylane forward. She cringed, terrified. “Fix him.” The Sentinel slammed the door shut and locked it, sealing it with words that illuminated all the sigils in the wagon. Soft white surrounded them. He blew out the lantern.
Ylane touched Ditan’s chest, looking down at him with sorrowful eyes. Her lips trembled, and he forced a smile, wondering if it looked like a frown as he hung upside down. She’d been crying.
“No, not the new ones. The old ones. He can’t suffer if you heal those first,” Eilic commanded. Ylane quickly moved behind Ditan to focus on the wounds on his back, leaving Eilic face to inverted face with him. Ditan saw how she’d dodged a smack without knowing it.
“Ya didn’t bring me any food? That’s rude,” Ditan said. “I know ya have better manners than that.” He felt Ylane’s hands moving across his wounds, hiding the pleasure he felt at their healing touch. Barbed words became his weapon against his captor. “I’ll make sure Modius knows you’ve lapsed in your care.”
Eilic wiped his blade on Ditan’s lower torso, narrowly missing his genitals. He understood the Sentinel’s message, not that it deterred him. “He knows what I do here. You reek, by the way. Did something disagree with your tummy?”
“Yeah. I couldn’t digest your horrible attitude toward me.”
“Funny,” Eilic said. “I could say the same about you.”
“You’ve acquired a taste for it over the years, I’m sure that’s why it doesn’t bother you,” Ditan said. “Maybe if you let me down I could clean up the mess,” he offered. “I don’t like the smell any more than you do.”
Eilic chuckled. “I’m sure you’d like that,” he said. “Unfortunately, it’s a hazard of the job. I only have to tolerate it for a short time. You can have it the rest of the day.”
Ditan could feel Ylane’s hands trembling. Her healing faltered, and she held still, just remaining out of Eilic’s sight. She had accomplished almost nothing. He didn’t blame her. “What did he do to ya, Ylane? It’s okay, yer safe to speak here,” he said, knowing she wasn’t and hoping she wouldn’t answer.
Eilic slashed the side of his head, raking a cut from his ear across his cheek. “She won’t answer you. She knows better,” he said, glaring up at her where she peeked around Ditan’s leg. Blood dribbled down his face into his hair. He resisted probing the inside of his cheek, afraid of how deep the cut went. “And if she doesn’t, it will go worse with her.”
“Ah, just idle threats then, nothing serious,” Ditan muttered. “She looked rather scared.”
“It's a healthy worry for a friend, I’m sure. Isn’t that right, girl?” Eilic twisted the dagger in his hand, watching blood drip from the blade. “I just wiped this off. I’m starting to think you enjoy all of this.”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Ditan said. “It means everything to me.”
“Does it now?” Eilic eyed several implements on the wall. “You see, pain diminishes you. Surely you know this. Every little tiny thing I do keeps you powerless. It is kismet. Meant to be. It means everything to me, as well, gobbo,” he sneered.
“I’m glad the feeling is mutual then,” Ditan replied. “I’d hate to be the only one having fun here.” Ylane whimpered behind him.
“I know what you’re doing, Ditan,” Eilic said. “It’s not going to work.”
“I’m sure it will,” he said, beginning to doubt his words. “Because ya don’t know.”
“We’ll see about that,” the Sentinel said. He pushed Ditan to the side, reaching Ylane behind him. She shrieked as he yanked her to the floor by her hair.
Ditan tried turning to see what the man was doing, but couldn’t. He could hear kicking and struggle as Ylane hit the Sentinel several times, trying to dissuade him. “Shh, stop that,” he said. Ylane’s feet kicked the floor, then she stopped moving. “That’s better.”
Eilic dragged her into view. “You’d like to have her safe. I’m sure Modius would like that too,” he said as he began cutting into her shirt, exposing her chest. “I can do many things and keep her alive. What do you think these mean, anyway?”
He began to cut around one of the runes on her ribcage. “Stop it!” Ditan pleaded. What have I done? “Leave her alone.”
“No, I don’t think I shall. I remember your Red in that pitiful town. She was on the Council once, years ago. I doubt she never spoke of it. No benefit, you see,” Eilic said as he began slicing into the viscera underneath the flesh, prying the flap loose. “When I carved her up, I put some of these on her, to remind her. Do you think I should do the same to Trynneia as well? I like having little trophies like this.”
Eilic held up the piece of flesh and licked it, savoring the taste. Ylane had never moved, and Eilic didn’t know if she still lived. “I hate you,” Ditan said, knowing it had been his attempt to help that led to this.
The Sentinel smiled. “I know. Maybe she’ll start breathing soon. Maybe she won’t. I’ll send mother in a few hours. Until then, you can consider the cost of your words, gob.”
Eilic left, sealing the door behind him. Darkness punctuated by the intermittent shimmer of the sigils fell on them both. Blood from his several cuts plunked onto the floor, mingling with Ylane’s.