The War Against Aberon (Rough Draft #1)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

     Before she knew it the guards had dragged her into a hallway of cells. The place was filled with the musty smell of mold and a concoction of bodily excrements. It smelt like death and nearly made Zaffre gag. Her limp form was pulled along the grimy floor passed a few of the contaminants, shadowy forms in each one visible in the dim light. They reached a cell that held a curled-up body on the singular cot inside the barred area. One of the soldiers unlocked the lockup as the other forced Zaffre to her feet. She winced and held back a gasp at the harsh movement. It seemed the pain had made a return or rather wanted to remind her of its presence.

   The door was opened and she was shoved inside. She took a few stumbling steps before falling to the ground in a heap. A pained gasp of air left her before she then started coughing from the overwhelming stench of rot in this particular cell. The fact her chest was burning in pain didn't help either. It took minutes before she was able to crawl over to pull herself up and sit against the wall. Not before one of the guards attached a ball and chain to her ankle. As if she already couldn't move much. They left seconds after locking her in.

     Her cellmate hadn't even reacted to the commotion of her entrance, so she assumed that meant they did not want to talk. Instead, the young Felipara took to observing the other prisoners since the one stuck with her wouldn't communicate. This dungeon had very little lighting, a measly six sconces for the entire long row of cells. It was hard to make out anything other than vague figures.

    "Anyone willing to share where we are?" Zaffre's words were met with silence. She shuffled a bit, restless. She wanted as much information as she could gather. The bond was silent, as if it was dormant, she couldn't sense Freya at all. She didn't know what that meant, but it couldn't be good. So, if she was going to be stuck alone here, at least she could try and learn something.

    "How often do the prison keeps' make their rounds?" Again silence. The only acknowledgment Zaffre received was small head movements. At least she knew they could hear her.

    "Does anyone tend to injuries down here?" Zaffre doubted this latest question of hers, but it was worth asking. Someone grumbled off to the side and she had a brief hope someone would respond to her.

    "Shut your trap, dsüntrè."

    Zaffre had no idea what that last word meant but from the way, it was spat she gathered it wasn't nice. She kept silent after that, forcing herself to relax. With everyone else in the prison unwilling to talk she was left to her thoughts and worries. It was quite troubling. So many things to think about, so many people she was concerned about. Overall though, the only people Zaffre could think about were Jahzarni and Cyris. Her parents. They had no idea the peril she had come into and she had no idea what sort of condition they or the farm were in. For all, she knew her father could be dead. The very idea sent stabs of pain into her heart. It only brought the Felipara's spirit lower.

...

    Hours passed. Still, she sat against the grimy stone wall as she rested her eyes and leaned her head back. Zaffre's nose had finally gotten used to the horrible scents around her. Her body throbbed as it was finally able to settle and access its injuries. It was almost hard to breathe as multiple of her ribs had to be fully broken. Their state made a full lung full of air difficult and entirely agonizing. She endured and kept herself awake. For whatever reason Zaffre felt it wasn't a good idea to go to sleep just yet. Even though it was probably a good idea for her injured self. Yet something deep inside her told her she had to be awake. Why? She had no clue and simply sat waiting.

     Another stretch of time passed and Zaffre had no idea if it was an hour or a day. Time seemed lost on her in the silence of the dingy underground place. Her restlessness returned and made her antsy. She struggled not to fidget every second and instead kept her eyes moving, analyzing anything and everything she could see. The emptiness of each cell. The shadows of people she knew were stuck in their own cells with her. The cracks in the floor of her containment. Nothing was exempt from her attention.

     It was then she felt it. A stirring inside herself, inside her mind. The stirring turned into a pulse in her chest, a warmth, and with each drumming, she felt more. It was like something or someone was calling her. Reassuring her and flooding her with feelings not her own. Determination swelled for a moment, then there was hope, a dash of fear, spikes of excitement, and anger. Then there was a rush of anticipation and Zaffre fully gathered what was happening. Somewhere still a distance away her bond was contacting her. Zaffre feared whoever got in the Pumeon's way as she sent her emotions to Zaffre. Whatever was happening and whatever she was doing it was big. However, the biggest thing of all and what was most important to Zaffre and Freya was one thing.

     Freya was alive and well and she was coming for her bond. 

Word Count-1725

A/N:

I've finally uploaded the next chapter! Sorry for the break in between. In any case how did you like the chapter? Only two more before the epilogue! Isn't that exciting. I'm mainly stoked that I'll be able to say I wrote a book! Even if it's only a rough draft. The idea of that is so insane to me. 

Tell me what you thought! Vote if you feel so inclined. Talk to you soon!

Thank you!

S