“Break…”, her voice slips through an iron-barred window of the Long Fang Mountains Keep, catching upon the wind.
“Break," she insists. The wind, pirouetting around the twin curved peaks, descends again to devour her command.
Colliding with the keep’s wall, it condenses and slithers through the bars of the window, into the prison cell of Ablee Urough.
The chill air coils along the cell’s diameter, surrounded by the colorful chalk-drawn scene upon its walls. Its loops slowly tighten, converging upon the young woman at its center. Ablee, child of the Warlord Karich Urough, strains against her shackles.
Rivers of sweat pour from her roughly shorn hairline. “BREAK!”, she demands.
The piney perfume of the wind plays upon her tongue. Gingerly, it licks up the sweat upon her skin and drenched gray overalls.
Shivering, she grinds her teeth and pushes forward. Her calloused feet slip on the damp floor and she falls forward, arms held back by her shackles. CLACK, her chin hits the ground!
“Ablee!”, exclaims the caricature of a woman with a basket of apples nested in the crook of her arm. She kneels down, draped by the village square portrayed across the cell’s walls. Its buildings and inhabitants are cartoonishly drawn in a chalky kaleidoscope of colors, “Ablee, are you alright!?”
Ablee strikes the ground with a fist and lies prone for a moment, bathed in the dim white light of The Tower coming through her window. Her eye peeks out its corner to gaze upon the glowing titanic pillar.
The turbulent air of the cell rolls over her in waves. Turning onto her side, her determined eyes narrow upon The Tower. It was Karich’s greatest ambition. Topping The Tower.
I’ll beat him to it.
“Ablee…” the woman’s says, her face drawn with worry. “Do you need help? I can call for Glimin.”
Ablee’s eyes turn to the woman. Smiling, a stream of bloody spit rolls down her cheek. “Nah Thalia, I juth bit my thongue!”
Taking her feet, she spits onto the floor. With blood dripping from her chin and shackle-scraped wrists, her visage the calm of a storm's eye. “Thee, no worth for wear!”
Talia nods, sensing her resolve “You’ve got this, keep going!”
“You’re right!”, Ablee locks eyes with her. “Five wasted years, and this ends tonight!”
This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.
Ablee leans back into her chains, slamming her heels into the floor. She refuses to stop until she finally gains purchase, and then PULLS! The iron of her restraints begins to stretch like wet clay. “Yes..” she grunts, “Yesss!”
A rum-addled pirate with “PIN BEARD” stitched into his tricorn hat stands depicted on the adjacent wall. He raises his mug and voice. “Aye! Let the spirits take ye Ablee!”, his long pointed goatee bobs up and down as he hollers, “Get yer brother out of this damned brig!”
“Cline…” Ablee growls, reminded of her captive sibling she flexes her arms to their limit! The shackles stretch further, leaking frigid liquid iron down her arms and into the creases of her clenched fists.
Across the chalky village, a host of hopeful voices join in.
“This is it!”
“Don’t quit!”
“FOR CLINE!”
Her eyes are wide, her jaw set with focus. Two plumes of hot breath billow from her nostrils. Puff, puff, puff. The wind tugs them like dragon's whiskers.
She takes three long steps back. Slackening, the links of her chains plink onto the floor.
The mountain wind tears along the walls, stirring up a storm of loose chalk-dust. Her eyes, locked on some distant point, don’t waver, don’t blink.
Her right foot drops back and she leans onto her left. The wind continues to surge, pitching to a scream!
She shoots off, one step, then a hop, landing into a crouch. Without an instant’s hesitation, she fully extends her legs and rockets into the air!
The chains rise behind her like twin serpents refusing to release their prey.
Roaring, the undulating dust-storm rushes to meet her head on.
Her right arm twists forward, an iron fist at its head, “HYYAAAAHHHH!”
Changing direction, the wind quickly jerks away from her strike. The chain clings desperately to its anchor, its links screeching in protest! The shackle, wrung like a sponge, vomits slick gun-metal paint that splatters the floor.
Its form starts to split, wrapping around Ablee’s wrist and reforming on its other side. Slick with the shackle’s essence, her arm breaks free!
A viper’s grin peels from ear to ear and she wrenches her chest to the right, dragging her left arm forward through its shackle.
The fist of her now free left hand smashes into the snout of the veering wind, and a piercing wail shakes the chamber, “WAAAOOOO—!”.
As she flies through trembling air, her wild grin splits, “Ha-Hyahahahaha!”. Descending side-first, she bounces off the ground and rolls to a stop against the wall.
Behind her, the discarded chains clatter toward the window in the wake of the retreating wind.
Pin Beard reaches for the sash at his hip, "Ye’ve done it girl! When you top that tower, etch ol’ Pin Beard’s name inta its roof!” drawing a flint-lock pistol his sash he points it to the sky!
“Pin, the guards!”Talia shouts and rushes to stop him, her basket tossed aside in a shower of red and gold produce!”
BANG!
As the echoes of the shot diminish, the crowd looks down to Ablee, lying on her back, still shaking with laughter, “Let ‘em come!”.
She sits up and eyes the iron cell door. She cups her hands around her mouth, “DAAADDYYY! Send whoever you want! I’m gonna find you, and then I’m GONNA BEAT YOUR ASS!”