Part III

The Heart of the Mountain

Jacob

The ground suddenly lurched forward, and Jacob awoke with a start.

He knew his eyes were open, and for a second, he thought he had lost his sight, some witchy thing that the lizard had inflicted on him, like what she did with poor Max, imprisoned mid-air. He wondered what had become of his friend—if the two brutes had killed him—knowing that they feared him like cooties. But he wished that he was all right and that he would see him again. If something terrible had happened to Max, he would never forgive the strangers, and whatever they were afraid of from him, he would surely use it against them.

If he only knew how.

Jacob realized that there was a blindfold blocking his vision, the cloth wrapped too tightly around his temples for his liking, probably put there by the mean lobster soldiers in pale-green armor. He tried to pry it off, but he found himself unable to move his hands nor bring his wrists apart, also realizing that they were bound around a metal chain behind his back.

He immediately thought of Reema and Harken back in the castle, the kind of place Jacob had seen in Europe in one of their family summer trips, but this one wasn’t the type he would enjoy touring on a sunny day. This place was filled with skeletons, cobwebs, and scarred earth, only striking when he saw the two strangers’ frightened and troubled looks as soon as they entered the area. As much as Jacob was scared of the two, it unnerved him to think that they would be afraid of one measly abandoned town, only realizing too late what they were really apprehensive about.

As if on cue, the green lobster soldiers rolled down the eastern plains, across the abandoned farm fields, in a savage cry for blood.

“Run, little pup! Before these treacherous goblins get through the walls!” Harken barked, pulling out his giant sword and ran up the ramparts in a fury to face their shadowed attackers beyond the wall.

“But run where?” Jacob cried out in panic.

“To the woods. Come now. Run to the woods! They must not get you!”

The memory was hazy, like a long-forgotten dream weaving back into the forefront in bits and pieces, and half-way put together. He found himself only moments from waking up in a different environment, hawked over by Reema, who told him they were attacked. But surprisingly, she let him go, seemingly right after they had just kidnapped him and whisked him away to this castle out in the middle of nowhere.

So he ran, not well at first, having to get used to his legs working again after many days without using them. He ran far away into the woods—confused, disoriented, and starving like hell—only pushed by the thought to go further away from the battle, ignoring their ringing cries from behind him. He could care less what happened to the bear and the lizard lady, and if they died, it was one less thing to worry about. The only problem was finding his way back to his father.

As if his luck wasn’t bad enough, he got chased down by another group of thugs who also wanted his own skin, riding on top of giant ugly and naked rats. To top it all of, like some cosmic joke, he got smacked on the head again and blacked out.

So much for escaping, Jacob thought grumbly.

The ground suddenly bumped and bounced, shaking him out of his thoughts, as if the earth had driven through a pothole, realizing he was on some vehicle. With the squeaks and the wheels turning, and the wooden platform against his cheek, he guessed he must be on a wagon!

But going where? Jacob felt his way around his environment.

He noticed that he was lying on the ground, could smell the damp wood and dirt, and the dizzying wake of a blow to the back of his head lingering at the periphery. He began to have the urge to scratch it away, only to be reminded that he was bound and helpless. At least he partly knew where he was. He was still outside, could again feel the gentle cool breeze and the smell of pines in the air as he got up to a sitting position, the prickle of winter chill touching his skin.

But there was another smell more defiling than the ground he was laying on. This one reeked with urine and crap, violating his nostrils, growing in concentration the more he let it in through his nose. He forced himself to breathe through his mouth, but it only made it worse, made him scrambled up to his knees, and crawled somewhere to hurl all the contents inside his stomach—found them empty. Nausea soon followed, caught the tight knot in his stomach, aching to be filled.

Oh, God! How long was I out? He wondered in a panic. It felt like he hadn’t eaten for many days.

Jacob tried to wiggle out of the binds, rolling on the wooden platform while trying to remain unnoticed, but it seemed the knot grew tighter and tighter, his wrists burning with every move he made, and he feared it might have chafed his skin red.

“If you keep that up, you’ll lose your hands,” a man’s voice said somewhere close to him. “There’s a trigger on those cuffs that will cut through your bones clean—I have seen it. Do you want to run around without no hands, kid?”

Jacob didn’t know what to say, merely giving out a small nod and stopped what he was doing. He tried to whimper, but no sound came out of his lips.

“And don’t bother screaming. Or would you rather die now than wait? I wouldn’t blame you either way. Keep your head down, and don’t make too much sound. They’ll kill you if you do.”

Who’s they? And where are we? Jacob tried to ask, but he couldn’t find the voice to do so. It was like his throat became a parched desert, cracked and dry, and he had the urge to drink an entire river to quench it all away, and maybe eat a whole buffet.

“Can—you see—me?” Jacob asked softly, broken, found some strength in his voice, but it still hurt to do. He tried to sparse his words as his saliva worked to coat the insides of his cheeks. Swallowed them, trying to lubricate his throat as well.

“Yes. I can see you,” The man said.

“Are—are you…like me?” Jacob asked another.

There was a pause, felt like it stretched forever.

“We are human.”

“We?”

“Yes. We. My name is Porter.”

“Keep it down,” another man’s voice hissed from across the platform. “You’ll draw them to us again.”

Jacob let out a shaky breath. Though he didn’t like how he was the only one blindfolded and the others weren’t.

“How—many—are—they?” Jacob asked.

There was another pause. “Twenty, at least. There’s more coming out of the woods here and there.”

He shivered from the thought, realizing that his kidnappers had more than tripled. The chances of his escape, if he could even manage that, had slumped down to point-zero-one percent.

“Where—are you?” Jacob asked, but with his hands bound behind his back, he couldn’t reach out to touch them.

“In front of you,” Porter said. Jacob felt a gentle kick on his left ankle. The gesture made him feel a little better, made it real that he wasn’t alone.

“Quit that down,” the man earlier hissed again. “You’ll get us all killed, man.”

“Can you—take the blindfold off—of me?” Jacob asked, ignoring the other man’s protests.

“I can’t,” Porter said, a hint of a strain in his voice. “My friend tried to help you. Then, they cut off his head. I don’t think they want us to.”

A beat.

“What did you do?” Porter asked. “Killed one of their own? They seemed to take a special interest in you.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Jacob replied hoarsely, and it was the truth, and besides, he couldn’t possibly take one down with his own bare hands. His only weapon—the dagger—was lost somewhere, probably back with the two brutes. However, the ensuing silence told him that Porter didn’t believe him.

He had a suspicion of why they would be interested in him.

I am a Warlock…or whatever.

Being mistaken for a warlock shouldn’t get this much attention! But this was a different world, and they treated him as if he would kill them with one look. Jacob didn’t believe himself to be a warlock, and he could prove it. Aside from the prompts sometimes creeping him out, they actually revealed a lot of information about the things around him like Reema’s and Harken’s name, and how it tagged them as a Ruvari and a Kyrian, respectively. Jacob assumed those were the name of their species.

However, There was nothing on his prompts that pointed him out as a Warlock. He was an Erudite—whatever that meant—but he held his tongue just in case Erudite meant “mass-murdering maniac” in this world.

Hours went by, sitting on the wagon with the occasional bark of orders from the soldiers nearby, though they were so brief that he couldn’t make out most of it for any useful information. Strangely, they spoke perfect English. Jacob got his first break when the temperature began to fall. There was one conversation that stuck out the most, lucky that the two soldiers were close by the wagon. It was filled with disgusting jeers directed at the humans, calling them vermin, grotesque freaks, and wild dirty animals, and how they should have rounded all of them up and put to the sword the moment they caught them, especially Jacob.

“The outsiders want it,” said the soldier with a nasal tone, “and they can well have the rotting body so that they’ll leave us alone.”

“They should be in the woods for the little one by now if you and your squad hadn’t fucked that up and saw us,” said the other soldier.

“Not our fault that bitch drew her boundless on us.”

“Good thing that will cost her from drawing more. They’re dead by now without her tricks.”

“I don’t think so. Not a single one came back from the ambush we set up. They’re still coming behind us. I don’t want to lead them to Ulthoxan, especially when we have a fucking Kyrian on our tail. We should abandon them and cut our losses.”

“They are all for The Queen.”

“Aye. Yet, she’s not out here risking her own neck, is she?”

“Hold your tongue, Henik. You are speaking treason.”

“What’s the matter? We’re already dead anyway,” Henik scoffed.

Their voices continued on, but they slowly drifted off as they strolled away from the wagon.

Jacob realized that the outsiders they were talking about must be Reema and Harken, still alive apparently, and they were setting up ambushes to stop them from catching up to them. Jacob didn’t know if he should be relieved or grateful, but they were very determined at recapturing him again for their faceless leader, Faustus—if he remembered the name correctly. Then, he thought of the Queen, who they were being delivered to, and what was that about a boundless? In any case, Ulthoxan must be where they were going, and Jacob wondered if it was some town, a city, a military camp, or something else entirely.

Hopefully, it would increase his chances of escape, but he wasn’t counting on it.

* * *

The wagon jerked to a stop, yanking him forward, and face-planted onto the wooden platform.

The repulsive stench of human waste grew stronger as bodies were moved and wrenched out of their original spots. Jacob pressed his shoulders on someone’s arm, and the man jerked his arm back and yelped as if he was stung by bees. He managed to grab Jacob by the head and pushed him away, managing to knock the blindfold off of him.

It was bright and sunny, stinging his eyes as they adjusted from the light. As his eyesight oriented, he learned that the wagon was surrounded by an iron-wrought cage, accessed only through a narrow gate at the back, which Jacob was sitting next to. At the front, an alien soldier sat on a wooden bench, reining the two giant rats pulling the entire wagon together. There were also a few more wagons behind them, all filled with humans huddled in cramped spaces, flanked by dozens of soldiers.

But in front of them was one of the most beautiful waterfalls Jacob had seen, towering white waters falling off the cliff in a roaring majesty. Next to it was a large entrance of a cave where many more soldiers waited and guarded up on tall watchtowers and rocky outcrops. Behind the cave’s entrance, the mountains loomed tall.

Jacob looked around the cage. There were seven other men and two children with him; all of them half-covered in filth, damped and wet from the weather. Most were scrawny and sickly as if they hadn’t eaten a proper meal in days. Jacob could only imagine what he also looked like, probably in the same state as them. As his eyes continued to adjust, Jacob found the source of the vile smell. Feces and urine stains covered most of the platform, and also soiled the men’s pants and clothes, too.

There was one man that stood out. He wore a full standard army combat uniform. He had seen his father wore those as far as he could remember. The tag PORTER was evident on his right breast. He seemed to be in his early twenties, a tall, skinny man with deep-set eyes, cropped black hair, and a growing stubble around his jaw, looking more like a nerdy college student like Uncle Easton than a soldier.

Porter had his arms spread wide, only realizing that the gesture was meant to prevent the others from coming near Jacob and his steely gaze compelling him not to approach them. The two children cowered behind him, who looked to be around Jacob’s age, glaring at him with suspicion.

An alien soldier wearing a green cape and robe approached their wagon. He grabbed the keys dangling from his belt and opened the gate. The soldier reached out to grab Jacob’s arm, but he reeled it back when he saw the blindfold off.

“Put that back!” He screeched. He pulled out a knife from his belt and pointed it at the thin cloth on the ground. “Put. It. Back. Over. Your. Eyes,” He said slower and motioned at his own eyes with his free hand—hands that had six fingers attached to pale luminous flesh. He recognized the voice, which belonged to Henik.

Jacob shook his head.

Henik poked the knife against Jacob’s shoulder, though he didn’t push it through. A threat. “Put it back, demon,” he ordered. Jacob couldn’t see Henik’s face with the helmet over his head, but he could tell from his voice that he was seething.

Jacob glanced over his shoulder and shook the cuffed chains behind his back.

It took a moment for Henik to understand what he meant, and Jacob swore he heard a low growl emanating behind the helm. Making him look like an idiot was not what Jacob meant. Henik wrenched him by the arm and yanked him out of the cage, scraping Jacob’s leg and torso through the iron sticking out of the gate. As soon as his feet landed on the ground, he immediately fell to his knees. Whatever many days he was unconscious, it rendered his legs uncooperative even with Henik’s frustrated tug on his arm to get him back up to his feet.

It took a few tries to steady his balance, and Henik, impatient, ordered Porter to get out of the cage and to help him up. But this was all said through hand gestures as it seemed Porter and the others couldn’t understand what Henik was saying, even when he was ordering them in English.

“Put the blindfold back on him,” Henik ordered, grunted at the cloth, and then pointed with his knife to Jacob. “Go. Do it.”

Porter, comprehending, picked it up, but the cloth had accidentally landed on piss and fecal matter, which now stained the fabric. Jacob didn’t want that put that around his eyes, and he slowly shook his head. Porter hesitated at first, but something must’ve clicked in his brain, saw the blade Henik was holding, and frowned.

“I’m sorry,” Porter said, ambling toward them.

“Henik! Stop messing around and bring them here!” Another soldier barked.

“I’m trying to get this one blindfolded.”

“What for?” Said the soldier, approaching their wagon. He wore a brighter shade of the green armor compared to Henik, but based on how the soldier slumped as the other approached, it must be his superior. The other soldier took off his helmet.

It was the first time Jacob had a first good look at them. Four pairs of black eyes as dark as night, pale fleshy skin that didn’t match their lobster-shelled green armor at all, and his head devoid of hair. The soldier looked down on him, studied him for a second before sighing.

“I placed chrysalis on the cuffs,” he said.

“So? I don’t want it looking at me, and neither do the others, Lorrig. It’s a demon.”

Lorrig dismissively waved his hand. “I don’t have much use for superstitions. I bound those damn rocks myself, and I can assure you it’ll be safe. Now, get them in the fucking line.” Lorrig said, and then marched off without giving Henik a second chance to protest.

Henik clearly wasn’t amused by the order, shoved Porter off to the side, and told him to throw the blindfold away. It took a few back-and-forths to get the point across, and after Porter understood the order, he merely dropped the blindfold and helped Jacob up to his feet. They followed Henik to the other men lining up in a single file, herded into the cave, like cattle. They joined at the tail.

“Where the fuck are they taking us?” One of the men whispered from behind.

Others also mumbled under their breath throughout the procession.

“They’re going to kill us!”

“No. They’ll eat us.”

“We’ll become lab rats. They leer at us like animals in a zoo.”

“Please, God, not this! Not like this!”

“Susan, wherever you are, we’ll be together soon, my love.”

“Our father, who art in heaven…”

Jacob tried to control his trembling, sharing the same feeling as the others. The other two children didn’t fare well either, their faces so pale, Jacob was afraid they would pass out right there. It seemed the two boys were family, brothers, or cousins, holding onto each other during the grim march. Sadly, Jacob realized the rest of their family wasn’t with them.

Like me, Jacob thought glumly.

Marching by a wagon filled with boxes and supplies, one soldier dragged out a small iron cage with a few dozen implanted gemstones, or what looked like gemstones, and they were very colorful, glowing softly like emeralds.

Then, he noticed the sleeping form of a familiar creature inside it.

Max!

Jacob almost blurted out, but he bit his tongue. He accidentally stepped on Porter’s foot, drawing him to where he was looking at. They watched as the soldier walked past them, carrying Max. The soldier handed the cage to Henik.

“That’s a gnarly-ass-looking bat,” Porter muttered.

“No. It’s an Adherer,” Jacob said.

Porter turned to look at him curiously, but he didn’t say a word.

They found themselves inside the enormous cavern, and the soldiers led them to an underground river where half a dozen boats waited by the wooden docks. They then steered them deeper into the campgrounds, leading them into the center where they ended up on where a bonfire had been built, dug into a shallow hole.

Jacob gulped. Maybe they were going to eat us after all, he thought.

To their right, a large, rectangular open cage was built out of wooden posts at least ten feet high, and viewing between the foot-wide gaps, more humans were imprisoned inside, men and children packed like sardines. Guarding the entrance gates were two soldiers carrying spears. They opened the gate as Henik approached them.

“Get inside,” he said to the line, motioning the order with his hands.

One by one, the soldiers herded them inside the confined space, but as Jacob reached the gates, Henik shot his arm out and barred the entrance.

He shook his head. “Not you,” he said. He glanced sideways to the largest pavilion on sight; this one dyed red instead of white. He pointed to it and said, “Go there.”

Jacob stiffened, unsure what to do. Porter, meanwhile, didn’t let go of his arm, daring to glare at the soldier with a clenched jaw, realizing what he wanted Jacob to do.

“No. He stays with me,” Porter said.

Jacob was partly relieved at the protest. Henik didn’t seem to understand at first, cocking his head to the side, but once Porter pulled Jacob behind him, Henik snapped and grabbed Porter by the collar of his jacket and dragged him into the cage. Too weak to fight, Porter quickly toppled onto the muddy ground hard.

“Freak,” Henik spat. He spared a rough kick on Porter’s leg and laughed.

The abrupt motion rattled the cage Henik was holding, stirring the creature inside awake. Max’s eyes suddenly opened and found Jacob’s, then to the cage he was confined in. Wings slowly flapped open, though he could barely spread them apart.

The move caught Henik by surprise, and he dropped the cage onto the ground like a hot potato.

“Henik! You fucking halfwit!” Lorrig roared. The two guards walked away from the gates, terrified, realizing what the creature was. The other humans inside the fenced area also backed away.

“It should be fucking asleep!” Henik exclaimed.

“Kill it!” One of the guards shouted.

“There’s no point in that! See?” Lorrig insisted, picking up the cage in a huff, and pointing at the gemstones. “Secure.”

“What if it’s running out?” Henik asked, still in a panic.

“If it did, you’d know,” Lorrig said with irritation. He then turned his attention back to the guard, who cried out earlier. “You. Feed the prisoners some bread and water. And make sure its plenty.”

“Are you sure they can swallow one?” Henik asked.

“They were happy enough to eat mine last night.”

“You gave them food?” Henik asked, bewildered.

“We don’t want them dropping dead on the way to The Queen, and they could barely hold themselves as it is,” Lorrig said, “and now let’s get them to The Commander. We do not want to keep him waiting.”

* * *

The first thing Jacob saw was the scars that ran down The Commander’s face, an ugly gash that ran from his right eye down to his lower lip. The second was the heavy gait on his steps, obvious once he started to approach him closely. He was a massive, brutish beast compared to the rest of the soldiers.

The Commander didn’t wear the armors that the other soldiers had. He wore a snug-fitting blue jacket fastened by golden buckles, embroidered in golden sequences of shapes and varied styles, a long-sleeved tunic of burgundy sticking out beneath it. He also wore black pants with leather ties and a pair of leather boots, and a large brass and copper necklace with the shape of a mountain shown on the pendant’s surface.

Jacob briefly closed his eyes and brought out the prompt, wanting to know what the Commander’s name was, but there was no new information that came up. He guessed that he needed to be asleep to “update” the information, still trying to piece together how everything worked. He watched as The Commander got closer and caught a whiff of licorice and a wet dog as he passed.

“So, this is the one who ran into the woods?” The Commander asked Lorrig and Henik. “Hm. Not fast enough, I’m afraid.” He poked Jacob’s cheeks, and the boy slunk away from the touch.

“I caught it myself,” Henik said, puffing his chest and lifted his chin.

“The Kyrian and the Ruvari?”

“Still on our way, my lord.”

“Hm. I’m not surprised. Harken Bardos rarely gives up a fight, and the Fa-Kameeds don’t either. I’m shocked the two of you are still alive.”

“We are slowing them down, setting up ambushes, as you’ve ordered. Their repute is barely a concern. Frankly, I am disappointed,” Lorrig said.

“We’ll see about that. The fight isn’t over yet.”

“I’ve doubled the garrison since we’ve arrived. We’ll be ready for them, and this time, he and the bitch will die.”

“You’re making it personal, Lorrig.”

“They killed a lot of my men over a spread of eighty miles. So, yes, sire. I do want vengeance.”

“Well, make sure it's quick so we can get over that. We have more pressing matters to attend to,” the Commander narrowed his eyes at Jacob. “For example, how come a creature like you manage to be with a creature like that?” He pondered, pointing at Max inside the cage, which sat on a table.

Jacob held his tongue and lowered his head so he could avoid his gaze.

“Well, whatever you are, I am sure of one thing. These beasts only appear for one reason, and that is they are drawn to power. And you, little one, are a warlock. And that makes you immeasurable.”

“It doesn’t have the mark,” Lorrig said, glancing at Jacob. “We’ve looked when it was asleep.”

Jacob froze. The ruffled image of the soldiers stripping him down to nothing to check for some mark unnerved him, and a bit surprised that they even had the decency to put them back on him.

“Ahh,” The Commander sighed approvingly, “An untrained warlock. Much better. Easy to…capitulate. That answers my question of why they want you back so badly.” The Commander then turned to Lorrig. “Does it speak?”

“Just like the others, it doesn’t understand us.”

“A pity. It’ll make it harder with an audience with The Queen. In any case, we’ll just have to deal with it. What matters is that we have an Adherer. Send word to the steward, Henik. Bring the good news to the palace. I want all eyes on us when we arrive.”

“Right away, my lord,” Henik said. He marched off the tent.

“Is that wise, sir?” Lorrig asked.

“How so?”

“It will alert the rest of the nobility. They might as well intercept us and take the Adherer and the warlock for themselves.”

“They can try. However, I doubt they’ll succeed much.”

Suddenly, The Commander reached his hand out and touched the buckle fastening Jacob’s cloak by his clavicle, ran two of his fingers over its surface, over the carved drawing prominently etched on the metal.

“Real silver,” The Commander said, nodding. “A dragon. Family crest?”

He leaned down a little, trying to study his face. Jacob didn’t answer, biting hard on his tongue, continuing to avoid his gaze.

The Commander grunted. “It doesn’t seem to wear the same clothes as the others. Did someone dressed it up?”

“No, my lord,” answered Lorrig. “We found it like that.”

The Commander opened the flap of Jacob’s cloak and touched his father’s bomber jacket peeking out of his white robe. “Ah. It’s a very strange fabric. Neither silk, wool, cotton, linen, or even cambric. I am not quite sure The Empire is capable of creating such a thing.”

“We are working on that, my lord. We are also actively working on where they came from. I’ve already sent more scouts further north. It seems that’s where they are concentrated. We’ve already stumbled on many of their camps.”

Jacob stiffened, wondering how long they would find San Francisco. Though, if the dragon did its job well, he doubted they’d find much but dead men and crumbling frozen ruins.

“Continue gathering more of them. Kill the ones that resist.”

“Understood, sire.”

“And I want this one on the first boat out to the city, along with the Adherer.”

“Lord Thorell insists the first batch be immediately brought to his chambers.”

“I don’t care what the Lord Physician says. The Queen needs to see them first, especially these two.”

The Commander then ordered Lorrig to bring Jacob to the maidservants, insisting on tidying him up before The Queen, huffing that he didn’t want to displease her by introducing a smelly animal.

“If I am to present the first warlock ever seen since two hundred years ago, I don’t want half the court gagging for the privy, and neither does The Queen.”

“I will do my best, sire,” said Lorrig sternly.

“See that you do.”

Lorrig led him off toward the entrance. Behind them, Max stared at Jacob with big eyes as he was whisked away, but sadly, he couldn’t do anything to help him.

* * *

Lorrig led him to another pavilion close by the docks, passing by the jail where the humans were held. Jacob spared a glance and found Porter peeking out of the gaps. Behind him, the men and children were busy tearing through loaves of bread and drank on the three buckets of water the guards had given them. Jacob let out a slight smile to Porter, wanting to let him know that he’ll be fine. He also wanted to thank him for standing up for him, but Lorrig walked so fast he had to catch up. Two soldiers joined and flanked him on both sides as they led him toward the pavilion.

The pavilion was a little smaller than the one Jacob was in previously, but it was still one of the largest in the camp. There, a queen-sized bed, covered with silk and linen sheets smothered by half-a-dozen thick pillows, was propped to the side. There were also three large open trunks filled with various colorful garments of waistcoats, pants, and cloaks. The floor was also carpeted in velvet and black. On the opposite side were shelves carrying swords, scabbards, and a full set of lobster armor in gold. Next to it was a small round table set for four.

Jacob realized that Lorrig had brought him into the Commander’s quarters.

Deeper into the pavilion, white curtains separated another section of the tent, to which they walked toward it. Jacob glimpsed three shadows behind the drapes, and once Lorrig parted them, the three shapes bowed in unison.

What was surprising was that these three had hair compared to the bald soldiers, long silver locks flowing from the tops of their heads, one propped it into a thick bun while the other two let them hung loose. They wore white blouses and long brown skirts, which went all the way down to the floor. It was clear to Jacob that the three aliens must be the women. They surrounded an empty basin in the middle of the room, large enough to fit a single man.

Lorrig pulled out a small key and took off Jacob’s chains, but the cuffs remained clasped around his wrists. Jacob stretched his arm, flexed them a little, gritting at the slight pain it produced. Though, he felt quite better a second later unbound from behind the back. He noticed that the same gemstones from Max’s cage were imbedded on his cuffs, but he only had two on each instead of the dozens Max had.

“These stay on,” Lorrig said, repeatedly pointing at the cuffs, and exaggerating his nods.

Jacob nodded without saying a word.

Lorrig gestured for them to rise and instructed them what to do, declaring proudly it was for The Queen. They snapped their heads in attention from the mere mention of her, and they eyed Jacob with suspicion, hesitating for a while to undress him. When they realized he wouldn’t bite, they quickly tried to unbuckle every button, fumbling on some of the zippers, not knowing what to do with it. With the chains gone, he helped them take off some of his clothes.

Two of the maids poured hot water into the basin as the other finished folding Jacob’s clothes and placed them at the bottom of a shelf. She turned to Jacob and pointed at the basin, and he shuffled toward it, dipping his toes on the warm steamy water. It stung at first, like a thousand needles stabbing his leg as he lowered them deeper, could feel the muscles slowly relaxing. Jacob cautiously dipped his other leg, and slowly lowered himself down into the waters and let out a heavy and calming moan.

It seemed like years ago the last time he had a warm bath, realizing he never took one for days now, maybe even weeks. One of the maids brought out a bowl and started sprinkling some kind of flowers the size of his fist, varied colors of yellow, blue, and magenta. They smelled like bubblegum and cedar. Then, she placed five drops of oil from a flask, a hint of rosemary and lemongrass wafted up from the warm waters.

They proceeded to scrub the grime and dirt from every inch of his body, using a very rough sponge. No matter how good it felt to be in a tub filled with warm, relaxing water, it didn’t help that the three maids were scrubbing him as if he was a washboard. His skin turned red and pinkish, yanking his hair back and forth like a lever. Some of the water stung his eyes, and then they would dunk him for a second without giving him any warning.

“Stop,” Jacob groaned. “It hurts.”

Lorrig stood rigid at the corner, watching, but he made no sound or any indication that he heard him. The maids also ignored his protests.

Jacob breathed in deeply, clutching hard onto the cuffs as he forced himself to ride through the pain.

“Stop,” he protested again, tears welling in his eyes. He tried to slap away the maid with the burliest arms scrubbing too hard on his shoulder blades. The other maid grabbed his wrist and threw it back into the water.

“No,” she growled. Jacob glanced at her if she understood him.

“That’s enough,” Jacob said. The maid merely glanced up for a second, narrowed her eyes, but she didn’t seem to understand him. She lifted his right arm and started scrubbing at the base of his ribs. “Please. That’s enough!” Jacob said louder between gritted teeth.

The room suddenly grew darker, the amber lamps hanging over the posts dulled and dampened, like heavy clouds cutting off the sun in a bright afternoon.

Jacob felt a warmth crackle from within, intensifying from inside his belly, like drinking hot chocolate in the middle of a winter storm, striking him with energy.

Pushing him.

Hiking up his pulse.

Made him dizzy all of a sudden.

Something inside raged to be released.

“That’s enough,” Lorrig barked.

The three maids abruptly stopped their scrubbing, and stood up, made a gentle bow.

The light returned in the room. The rocks radiated the same hue and intensity, but the water sloshed around as if in the middle of an earthquake. Jacob glanced at the water, and in a snapped moment, the sloshing quickly eased into a gentle wake.

Jacob blinked, unable to form the words. He clutched at his chest, watching the waters in the basin continue to calm down.

“Pack the old clothes and get the little one dressed with newer ones,” Lorrig said. He didn’t pay any attention to the water, but he did look up warily at the lamps, also shooting weird glances at Jacob’s way.

“Of whose garbs, sir?” One of the maids, the one scrubbing his shoulders too hard, asked.

“Bast, the equerry. He’s about the same size. And here’s two silver for his trouble, make sure he doesn’t whore the coin around.”

The maid sauntered closer and took the coins off of his hands, bowing deeply. She quickly shuffled out of the tent.

“And the two of you, get it dry and get some food. The Commander wants to leave by the hour.” From that, Lorrig turned around and walked out of the tent. Though, the two soldiers remained, guarding him.

The other two maids burst into action; one also walked out to grab the food while the other blanketed Jacob with a dry towel. She led him out into the main room and sat him down on the round table; the wooden chair felt cold against his buttocks. Now that he was out of the water, the cold air chilled his skin, and he shivered, his teeth clattering as he waited for the clothes and the food.

It was then he noticed something hard pressing against his palm.

Jacob partly opened his fist. Pinned on his palm was a small piece of the green gemstone embedded on his cuffs, realizing he must have ripped it loose under the water as he held against the maids’ vicious, fervent scrubbings. He snapped his fist closed, looked around, and saw that the maid and the guards didn’t notice it. He hid his hands underneath the table.

He glanced at his left iron cuff. There were two green stones still embedded in it, but the other one had a chunk of it torn off. At first glance, it looked like the stones were still intact.

But what was strange was that the stones on his cuffs were still green.

The one in his palm, however, turned a swirling dark shade of blue.

Jacob curled his fist harder, pressing the stone against his skin, and the same warmth in his belly returned. Not as strong, but it was there, lingering, and it helped fight off the chill.

But it begged for something more.

Something Jacob still couldn’t quite reach, without understanding what it was, and which he couldn't describe into words.

But it was there lingering.

Waiting.