Broadswords - 22. The Confinement

Broadswords

Chapter Twenty-Two
The Confinement

Daegon was thirsty. While Elsior had continued to supply him with food and water, it was just enough to keep him coherent. Why he was keeping him alive at all, he wasn't sure. It would have been easy enough to have the dragon rip him apart, ending his life in mere moments. Yet Daegon awoke each morning to find a small amount of bread, vegetables, and liquids awaiting him. After the first few days, he'd quickly learned that the portions were measly, and not to greedily imbibe them all at once. He'd begun to pace himself, since the morning spoils were all he got.

By his estimates, he'd been holed up for at least a week. Especially after those first couple of days, he often faded out of consciousness due to lack of energy and sheer mental strain. As a result, he wasn't quite sure how long it had truly been.

His biggest concern was for Birten. He'd surprised himself at the thoughts, even. He wasn't too into himself to know that he was a selfish person. He almost always put himself first. That was something he was vastly aware of, though he didn't shine a light on it. But he was feeling a major amount of anxiety regarding what might have happened to his squire. And it was when those thoughts occurred that Daegon realized that he truly loved Birten.

Being as sexual as he was, Daegon was no stranger to intimate situations. Through interactions with Elan and countless others over the years, his sex drive wasn't an issue. But he had never bonded with any of those men. And none of them measured up to what he had with Birten.

Birten was kind, and smart, and dedicated. He had always been there for Daegon. There had been no faltering in that sense at all. While he may have taken it for granted, it was undeniable. Maybe it was his emotional state that was making him come to grips with these feelings, but they were strong.

While Daegon wasn't as nice, intelligent, or steadfast as his companion, he also wasn't illogical. Whatever was going on with Birten's current situation wouldn't matter if he continued to dwell on it. Whether the squire was hurt, safe, or somewhere in between wouldn't fix the scenario he was faced with. Thinking about the what-ifs would only create more problems. He had to think about the situation at hand.

He was deep within a cave and nobody knew where he was. If Birten was incapable of coming to his rescue, which he feared he was, he'd have nobody to liberate him. He had himself only. And even if he wasn't groggy and malnourished, he had nothing at his disposal to help himself out. He was weaponless, out of sorts, and was shackled by his right ankle to the stony confinement he was in.

Despite the small space, he hadn't seen his captor since he'd been drugged. The food and water was presented each morning, yet he had not caught even a glimpse of Elsior since his awakening in the cave. Sardonically, he wondered if his daily rations were supplied in the alleged sole bowl that Elsior owned.

Given his time in the blackness, it seemed that his eyes had begun to progressively adjust to the dark. It typically took a while each morning, but eventually he had been able to decipher rough shapes in the near distance. A few times he thought he saw a sweep of the dragon's tail, but those moments could have also been attributed to the scurrying of rats or some other cave-dwelling creature. In any other situation he probably would have preferred the dragon; yet, considering he was basically immobile, rats didn't seem so unsettling compared to a creature that would benefit from his inability to move.

Another concerning thought was regarding Harmon. Daegon had plenty of time to think about anything and everything during his time in his restraints, and Harmon had popped up quite a few times. Was Harmon aware of what was going on? Did he intentionally send them into a trap? Or was he just an innocent party in all of this?

Who was to say how the prince fit into all this? Maybe he was rebelling against the kingdom. Daegon didn't know anything about the man; while he came across kind and caring, it could all be a front. He could even be trying to usurp the throne – after all, he himself had mentioned in passing that he was second in line for the crown. If it was something he felt strongly enough about, there was always the possibility that he had hired Elsior to take out the forms of defense that the kingdom had.

Or perhaps it wasn't about power at all. Through Harmon's mention of so infrequently being able to depart from the castle, and subtle nuances that Elsior had shared in his stories about the prince, it could be fathomed that Harmon felt trapped. Maybe he wanted a way out of his royal confinement.

There was also the option that Harmon was unaware of Elsior's true nature. Daegon had found the so-called gatherer to be innocent enough, yet his current state proved that he had been wrong. Harmon could have been in a similar situation.

Regardless of how many possibilities popped into his head, Daegon had no way of verifying if any of them were even slightly close to the truth. Even if he had, it would get him no closer to finding a way out of the cave than thinking about Birten would. He needed to focus on things that might help him.

And sure enough, a thought hit him. Why hadn't the dragon come back to where he was? Dragons typically slumbered in the deepest, darkest part of a cave. They also opted for areas with only one way in or out, likely so they couldn't be snuck up on. From what Daegon could tell, he was in that exact spot within this cave.

He couldn't believe he hadn't questioned this before. He was a damn dragonslayer – it should have been something he debated after the first night. It was clear that the lack of food and water, the setting in of delirium, and his recent proclivity for letting his mind wander were all to blame.

Of course, there were plenty of dragons that didn't sleep in caves at all. There were forest dwellers, breeds that preferred mountaintops, and even a few terrifying types of water dragon. But none of them could be what he was holed up with. This one still occupied the cave.

It crossed his mind that it could just be an unusual member of its breed. Maybe it had different sleeping patterns. He had seen stranger things happen in his career.

But regardless of how logical that possibility was, he didn't think it was the case. He felt as if Elsior had more involvement in the temperament of the beast than he was aware. He tried to think like Birten. The squire was skilled with connecting the dots. Another thing that Daegon hated to admit to himself was that he could learn a lot from his younger companion. Just because Birten was the squire didn't mean that he couldn't teach the slayer a few things as well.

Something wasn't adding up with how he'd gotten into the cave at all. How had Elsior lugged his practically lifeless body into the depths of a cave, past a dragon? He began to create a mental list of possible explanations.

The theories began to flow in: Perhaps Elsior had waited until the dragon left the cave to search for food. Or maybe he had a secret entrance into the cave that allowed him to bypass the creature altogether. It could also be that the villagers of Dorre were actually all involved, and together they'd distracted the dragon while Elsior set everything up. Or that he bore magical abilities that allowed him to transport them to that direct spot. Or even that he had the ability to control the dragon directly.

Each of the scenarios he had come up with were equally likely, considering that there were so many unknowns. He was beginning to develop a headache trying to piece it all together. He didn't know how Birten managed to be so on top of things like that. It was draining.

Out of nowhere, a voice sounded. "How are you liking your lodgings, slayer?" It startled Daegon. His head jerked back in surprise, connecting with the stone that comprised the walls of the cave. If he didn't already have a headache, it had now been made more evident. He also thought he feel a trickle of blood beginning to run through his hair.

"Elsior?" he said, though his voice crackled and his tongue was dry. He realized it had been a while since he had spoken out loud. He tried to swallow to moisten his throat, but he didn't seem to have the capability of producing enough saliva to do so.

The voice responded, almost sounding gleeful. "Indeed. I feel like a rather poor host, considering I haven't visited you until now. But then again, I did want you to have some quality time alone. After all, you've had quite the adventure as of late."

Daegon tried to discern where the voice was coming from, but as with most of his senses, his hearing seemed dulled. Elsior could be anywhere. Hell, he could be somehow projecting his voice from a remote location for all he knew. "It's been a real five-star stay," Daegon growled.

"Delightful to hear," Elsior said, continuing on with his sarcastic charade. If it was the last thing he did, Daegon was going to kill the demented bastard.

"Where's Birten?" Daegon asked. He felt like a fool asking the question. He hated showing any sign of weakness, which he felt his question was. However, he had to know.

"He's alive, if that's what you're asking," came the reply. A rush of adrenaline seemed to pulse through the dragonslayer, the relieving response overpowering the weariness he felt. Though he couldn't know for certain if Elsior was telling the truth, he didn't see why he would lie about it. Elsior continued. "But he's not here. Where he is isn't important. I've got other plans for him."

Daegon felt the resurgence of passion aflame in his gut. Regardless of the physical and mental exhaustion he had been put through over the past several days, his true nature hadn't disappeared. "If you hurt him, it will be the last thing you do."

The exuberance that Daegon had sensed in Elsior's voice was confirmed when a guttural, heartless laugh filled the darkness. "I'm sure. You've clearly got the means to do something about it at your disposal. In any event, you're not going to have much time to formulate a plan." A sound echoed through the cave, which sounded as if Elsior had snapped his fingers.

No sooner had the sharp noise rang through the darkness than a ball of light had appeared before Daegon, several hundred feet away. It was bright, shocking his eyes upon impact. The amount of time it had been since he'd been exposed to light was long enough to make him feel nocturnal, and he hadn't been prepared. He closed his eyes tightly, and after a few seconds slowly began to blink them open.

The light source allowed him to take in his surroundings at last, and confirm his assumptions that he was in the cave. It was, however, more cavernous than he'd initially expected. His theory that Elsior was broadcasting his voice from elsewhere proved untrue, however, as the sorry excuse for a man was standing before him.

And the ball of light wasn't just any light. It was dragonfire. The beast was crouched behind Elsior, its breath a rotating sphere of flames. It was like nothing he'd ever seen before. No dragon that he had ever encountered or heard of could hold its fire like that. They all sprayed it out in a stream of untamed ferocity. This one, however, seemed capable of controlling it.

Due to the positioning of the dragon in relation to the fireball, he couldn't fully make out its features. Most of its body was masked by the brightness emanating from its breath. He wanted to know what breed it was. At this point, he felt he deserved at least that. He could see its feet though, and they were not the feet of any known dragon. He knew that for a fact.

"Meet the newest breed to grace our world," Elsior said smugly. "The Elsior's Dragon. Isn't she glorious? And you'll go down in dragonslayer history! You'll be the breed's first human fatality."

The heat began to intensify, and Daegon forced himself to keep his eyes open. If this was going to be his end, he would do it with some fucking dignity.