Regrets

Welcome, you’ve stumbled into The Tori Story Series. If this is your first visit to this realm you might want to catch up



“Boy,” Gaelon grabbed Hunter by the collar and pulled him closer. “Stay here.” He shoved Hunter toward the Witch. “And don’t move. Make sure dis here Witch don’t go nowhere while I gets the Magistrate.”

“How am I supposed to– ” Hunter whined but was silenced by another slap across the face.

“I’m not taking any chances.” Gaelon barked. “And besides, she’s dead.” Although the last part didn’t sound convincing at all.

Hunter stared up at Gaelon, expression full of fear, but he was too terrified to protest any further. He, for certain, was not looking forward to another slap. Instead, he just watched hopelessly as Gaelon left the room.

“And you better be here when I get back Boy or I’ll beat the living piss out of you.” Gaelon’s voice echoed from somewhere down the dank, dark hall.

~

The Peddler crouched in one of the holding cells. His muscles ached and his back burned. Four days of impossibly cramped living space was taking its toll.

Since they had been captured, he and Tori had been thrown into the dungeon by the King’s guards. For the first two days, he had tried everything in his power to get them out, but then on the third morning the guards had taken Tori. She had yet to return.

Where could she be? Peddler wondered.

He tried to stretch his legs to relieve some of the pain but it was no use. The ceiling was too low and the walls were too tight to comfortably accommodate anyone, especially not a giant.

At first, he tried to sing the chains loose but it seemed Andor’s entire realm was on lockdown— high alert to any foreign matter. Peddler knew it to be true the moment he began his song and the chains tightened.

It was subtle, mind you. Their grip increased just so. Not anything you or I would have noticed, but the Peddler felt it and stopped immediately. They were kind— the chains, perhaps recognizing the beauty of Peddler’s voice. Or it could have been that they were just good natured and didn’t want to hurt anyone. Instead of cutting into the Peddler’s flesh— they could have done that very easily— the chains simply squeezed.

Peddler took the hint.

The Void was also still blocked. How could that be? Four days! Blocking the Void for this long was unheard of. Clearly, though, it was a good sign because if the Void was still closed the ‘threat’ was not eliminated. Surely that meant Tori was safe. It also meant that the blockage would be growing weak. The Keepers could only hold out for so long.

Soon. Soon Peddler would find a way in. He just had to keep searching. If only he could get out of this cell.

~

When the faint light crept through the dark, Peddler assumed it was the passing of another day. The encompassing pitch black disoriented him and if not for the guard who brought moldy bread each evening, he wouldn’t have known how many days had passed. He left the bread untouched as he had no need for this type of food, using them to keep track of the days. Four small loaves, soon to be five now that the light was headed toward him.

“She’s dead.”

Peddler heard the deep warbly voice echo through the halls.

The words startled Peddler.

He noticed the subtle uncertainty in the voice. Whoever ‘she’ was, might not be dead at all. And if ‘she’ was Tori and ‘she’ wasn’t dead then she must be hiding in plain sight. Curious. How then could the voice see her?

Immediately the Peddler fell completely still and focused all this attention on the happenings in the the next room. He listened intently to the entire exchange.

Confirmed. ‘She’ was Tori. Good news.

When he heard the heavy footsteps retreat down the hall and the voice echo “…better be here when I get back Boy or I’ll beat the living piss out of you.” he knew he finally had the break he’d been waiting for. Sure Keepers could seal the Void and Andor could lock down his realm, but humans? They were an entirely different story.

“Boy,” The Peddler called out in the exact tone and inflection of Gaelon. “Come quick.”

“But you told me not to—“ Hunter began.

“I know what I said. Do as your told!” Peddler barked back.

~

Hunter hesitated.

“NOW!”

It wasn’t that he needed an excuse to stay with the Witch. Trust me, he didn’t. To put it simply, he didn’t know what to do. Was it fear? Self preservation? Whatever it was Hunter’s first instinct was to the ignore the voice and instead stay put.

But when the forceful “NOW!” echoed through the empty halls, Hunter ignored his instincts, snapped to attention, and followed the sound of the voice into the next room.

It was a decision he would later regret.


Author

becklaney1@gmail.com

Comments

October 16, 2020 at 8:47 am

Ah, Peddler to the recue I hope! Poor Hunter, but he should have kept his mouth shut 🙂



October 16, 2020 at 11:18 am

..the witch isn’t dead, isn’t she? she is sleeping and will wake at the worst moment? am i getting it?..



    admin
    October 16, 2020 at 12:32 pm

    You got it— she’s not dead. I have no idea when she will wake up though. She’s refusing to leave her son Rowan alone in the Void. Thanks Wil.



October 16, 2020 at 1:24 pm

An amazing suspense story that is exciting from fantastic-to-energetic-to-magnetic!



October 16, 2020 at 1:46 pm

Poor Hunter. He’ll wish he were dead.



October 16, 2020 at 2:01 pm

Oh, the suspense… Good job, Peddler!



October 16, 2020 at 7:48 pm

Clever! Someone’s going to be in trouble, only I’m not quite sure who!



October 18, 2020 at 2:35 am

ding dong…. the witch is celebrating halloween …?



October 19, 2020 at 2:56 pm

The suspense is nice. Great story, Beck.👌❤👏



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