~Part 6b~

Persephone knew something was wrong when she reached the security checkpoint and found no guard present. This position was supposed to be manned twenty four hours a day. The iron door across the room was left just a few inches open. Another shout of pain echoed from beyond; Persephone pushed down her fear and apprehension and passed through the door.

About halfway down the dungeon hallway, she saw a flicker of torchlight coming from one of the cells. As she approached, she could hear a chillingly familiar voice.

“What did you tell her about me?” said Sir Anwir.

There was a beat of silence, followed by another shout of pain. It sounded like Melchior.

“We can do this all night, Gestoll dog. Answer me!”

Persephone reached the light, and saw that it was the cell that had been converted into a torture chamber. Stretched out on a table or rack of some kind, his hands and feet tied to either end, was Melchior. A number of small cuts on his body bled, joining the bruises from his capture. Standing over him, his back turned to the hallway Persephone watched from, was Sir Anwir. He held a familiar dagger in his hand, and it dripped with fresh blood.

Sir Anwir grabbed Melchior’s hand, forcing him to extend his crooked middle finger. “Still bear the mark of the lesson I taught you when we were young, do you? Maybe you need reminding…” He held his dagger to the finger, preparing to sever it.

“Stop it!” Persephone shouted.

Sir Anwir froze, then slowly looked back at her. “Princess,” he said, with a cutting edge to his voice. “You shouldn’t be here. I suggest you return to your room for the evening; this does not concern you.”

Persephone began to sweat. To think, just a few days ago, it was Melchior she had feared and pleaded with. Just a few days ago, she had not realized who the real villain was.

If you want your happy ending, girl… then you’re going to have to earn it.

Persephone took a deep breath, and drew her longsword. “That is enough, Anwir. You have no authority to torture my father’s prisoners, and you have no right to threaten me. Leave. Him. Alone.”

The tension in the air was palpable, thick enough to resist all but the sharpest swords. The silent standoff stretched on for nearly a minute, during which time neither Persephone nor Anwir moved. Then, Anwir smiled, and severed Melchior’s finger.

Melchior screamed in pain. Anwir let him go, leaving him tied up, and drew his own weapon. “It’s so unfortunate,” he said in a disturbingly calm voice. “The Dark Lord Melchior escaped his cell and took Persephone captive once again. I chased him back into the dungeons and killed him, but I was too late to save the dear Princess’s life. The city will mourn, your father will mourn, and in their hour of need, with no apparent heir to the throne, they will turn to me, the fiance of the late Princess Persephone. That’s a lovely narrative, don’t you think?”

With a sword in one hand and a dagger in the other, Persephone knew that Anwir would have the advantage of speed against her longsword. She adopted the Plow Guard stance, holding the hilt of her sword down by her waist and raising the tip towards her opponent. Anwir held his dagger close to his chest and directed his sword towards her. Persephone watched his eyes, waiting for him to reveal himself.

Sure enough, there was a flash of emotion just before he lunged at her, sword outstretched. She was prepared, and parried his sword downwards. She moved in to strike, but he deflected her sword with his dagger. She backed away just as he swung his sword at her, trying to keep him at an optimal distance to take advantage of her longer blade. He moved in aggressively; she parried his blade again, but this time his dagger found purchase, slicing her cheek just beneath her left eye. She swung wide, driving him back for the moment.

The cut stung, and she could feel a trickle of warmth drip down her cheek to the corner of her mouth. Anwir smiled sadistically, and moved in on her again with both weapons. She was forced to retreat, backing out of the torture chamber and into the hallway. He pursued her, striking a flurry of blows in her direction, not letting up for even a moment. She managed to deflect the more deadly strikes, but suffered a cut to her arm and shoulder. Following the movements of a sword was challenging enough, but that dagger kept catching her off guard.

Finally he relented, returning to a defensive stance but already looking for his next opening. Persephone was already feeling fatigued, and her wounds were not helping. She lowered her guard, letting the tip of her sword rest on the ground.

“Last chance, princess,” said Anwir. “Forget this happened, and we can live happily ever after.”

“If you can even call a life by your side happy,” Persephone remarked.

Anwir’s eyes flared, and he moved in for the kill. Anticipating this, Persephone raised her sword at just the right moment, and momentum carried Anwir into the blade. It penetrated his stomach and stopped him dead in his tracks. He dropped both his weapons in shock, grabbing Persephone’s blade and forcing it out of him. She drew it back quickly, cutting both of his hands, and delivered a quick slash across his chest. He collapsed to the ground without another word.

Persephone took a moment to catch her breath. She checked her wounds; they bled, but appeared to be shallow enough that they wouldn’t slow her down much. She took two steps towards the dungeon’s exit, but stopped short when she saw Melchior. He appeared to be conscious, but with the way he was bleeding after Anwir cut off his finger, he wouldn’t last long without help. With a couple of quick slashes, she cut the ropes that bound him to the rack. She sheathed her blade and helped him to his feet.

His hand bled profusely. Persephone was no doctor, but she remembered hearing something about applying pressure to a wound. She grabbed a handful of rags from a nearby shelf and pressed them against where his finger used to be. He inhaled sharply through clenched teeth.

“I know it hurts,” she said, “but keep the pressure on the wound.”

“Thank you, Persephone,” Melchior said weakly.

“I’m getting you out of here. Do you think we can make it to your castle?”

“Gestoll Keep will certainly be watched; we can’t go there. I might know of a place we can lay low, if it hasn’t been discovered yet.”

“Then let’s go, before someone finds Sir Anwir.”

Persephone led Melchior through the dungeons, past the (still empty) security checkpoint, up the stairs, and down the hall to the hidden side door, only having to stop and hide from a patrolling guard once along the way.

Once outside, the princess and the dark lord fled the city under the cover of the new moon. They did not know what the future held for them, but they both knew that their past was no longer safe.

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The End (for now).

~Stories by Sol