To Break A Curse

Chapter 28

I vaguely recall someone dragging me down a flight of stairs. I must have lost a lot of blood, or maybe they drugged me. I can't think straight.
Grimey iron bars surround me as I sit alone in the dark corner of a cell. They put me in the dungeon, I realize as a symphony of groans come from the figures slumped in the cells around mine. I can't make out who they are in the dark, or how many, but the pungent reek of sweat, must, and feces circulating through the air tells me there are many.

It hurts to move and my head swims as I pull myself up, gripping the bars tightly. I don't know how long I've been down here, but the blood has long since dried on my forehead, leaving a hard, bumpy scab on my skin. I take a few deep breaths to clear my mind.

If Balek put me in the dungeon, then that means he doesn't want me dead... yet at least, or until I tell him who I am. I can't let either of those happen. I need to get out somehow, and I need to find the others.

But what if they were caught and thrown in the dungeon too?

The thought creates a surge of anxiety and I press my face as far as I can between two bars to try to peer into the cells across from mine. The few torches on the stone wall offer a scarce amount of light, so dim I can hardly see the faint outlines of the prisoners in each cell. "Fale!" I hiss into the stale air. "Clary! Handor! Is anyone there?" The desperation grows more evident in my voice with each passing second I don't hear a response.

"Hey, you! Be quiet!" a guard yells at me as he passes by, banging the hilt of his sword into the bars of my cell.

I flinch back.

If they're not here then... then that's a good thing. If they're not here, then they're safe. They can get me out, that is if they can find me without getting caught.

"You're the only new person they've thrown in here in the last ten days," a raspy voice says from the shadows in the cell next to mine.

Slowly, I take a step closer so I'm standing only inches away from the bars separating me from the voice. "What? What do you mean? Who are you?" I whisper, hating how timid I sound.

The shadows move and a disheveled man appears in the flickering light. He wears a torn and tattered white linen nightshirt, almost as if he were plucked directly from his bed while he was sleeping. Deep wrinkles crease his forehead, making him appear to be over sixty, but the bushy gray beard running down to his stomach hides the rest of his features, making it impossible to guess his age. "Besides you, they haven't thrown anyone down here in the last ten days. So, unless whoever you were callin' for has already been down here for a while, they're most likely not here."

"Oh."

A moment of silence passes and then he speaks again. "As for who I am, I'm no one you need to concern yourself with. I'm just a man forgotten."

"Forgotten?"

His eyes are cloudy and it takes me a minute to realize he's not looking at me, but at the space above my right shoulder. He's blind.

"Aye. Forgotten and left to rot in the dungeon for twenty years and counting."

"You've been down here for twenty years? What did you do to deserve such a punishment, may I ask?" I add quickly.

"Nothin' but speak the truth. Before the curse completely overtook his mind, Balek would occasionally listen to reason and take heed of what his council had to say. But after the mistress stole the sword, he went absolutely mad. Anyone who dared speak against him was immediately thrown in the dungeon, or even killed on the spot. I never thought he would throw me in the dungeon. I was one of his closest advisors for the better part of thirty years." He sighs and then shrinks down to sit on the ground.