The Exchange: Prologue, Part 2

Kevyn sat eagerly on the edge of his seat. Any moment now, surely. It had been ages since the eleven o’clock toll. Over the last week, he’d come to crave the midday mealtime. Usually, his job consisted of the same boring tasks repeated a hundred-fold. But now, thankfully, it had taken an unexpected twist for the better.

When your job is as dull as Kevyn’s, you have to make your own fun.

In Merric, Kevyn had found an exciting challenge. Any other inmate would have cracked by now, but this one... This one required special treatment. Thankfully, the King, through a chain of proxies, had given Kevyn leave to administer it.

He looked out the window wistfully. Screw it. It was close enough. He leapt from his seat, and grabbed the bread-sack. He had a game to play with his favourite inmate, and it could wait no longer.

He burst into the dungeon, and hurried his deliveries to the first eight prisoners. Number five’s bread bounced off the bars, and rolled out of reach. An emaciated arm emerged from the cell and clawed at the ground uselessly.

Kevyn stopped at cell nine, and peered inside, grinning. Merric, still chained to the wall, stared back out. Over the past week, Kevyn had only allowed him the bare necessities for survival, and it showed. Merric had lost both fat and muscle during his stay. He was decaying – a privilege usually reserved for the dead.

Oh, Kevyn thought, but he’s already dead, he just doesn’t seem to realise it yet.

“Oi, ladykiller,” Kevyn called, watching carefully for a reaction. “I have news for you.”

-

“Sorry?”

“I said, ‘I have news for you.’” A smile illuminated her gentle-featured face. It was contagious; Merric couldn’t help but smile back at her.

“Oh, really?” he asked. “What is it?”

“Well,” she said, sliding closer, “I wanted to keep it as a surprise, but –“

“But you know that I don’t like surprises.”

Elenya stifled a laugh. “Well, there’s that, but it’s not really something that one can keep under wraps for long.”

Merric turned to face Elenya. She smelt like some exotic fruit. “Well, what is it?”

“I’m late, Merric.”

Merric was confused. He glanced at the horizon – the sun was a good two fists away from setting. “No you’re not. You’re right on time.”

Seeing Merric’s reaction, Elenya laughed until tears started flowing.

-

“Hey,” yelled Kevyn, “listen to me!”

Merric’s eyes had glazed over. He had been lost in the memory, and he wanted nothing more than to return.

“I said, ‘Xanon has heard the news, and he’s on his way back as we speak’. He’ll be here in ten days. How does it feel to know the end is nigh, murderer?”

As usual, Merric didn’t reply.

Kevyn laughed. “You’re not getting the picture, are you?”

Pulling out his ring of keys, he flipped through them until he came to the one labelled ‘cell nine’. “How about,” he said as he unlocked the cell, “I give you some perspective.”

This was the first time that Kevyn had entered the cell. Merric went rigid, and watched him shrewdly. As Kevyn approached, he flailed weakly in his restraints.

Kevyn made an exaggerated recoiling motion. “Whoa. Easy there.”

Standing this close, Kevyn could feel fury rolling off the man in waves. It was delicious. All his cunning, all his strength, and all his rage; they all meant nothing here. In this dungeon, Kevyn was god.

“Do you know what they have planned for you, ladykiller? They’re going to make a spectacle out of you. They’re going to give you both a weapon, and you’re going to fight in front of everyone. Xanon’s going to kill you, and the whole world’s going to watch.”

Kevyn came closer. “That sounds fair, doesn’t it? If you win, you get to go free. Just like the olden days.”

Merric took a deep breath, and went back to his impotent thrashing. If he could just get a hold of him somehow...

“Of course,” said Kevyn, “Xanon will win. Hell, a man like that against a man like you? Any other outcome would be... pure fantasy. However, there’s a catch. The King, as you know, is a cautious man. He wants you to have a handicap, and a handicap you shall have.”

Kevyn stepped closer, so close that Merric could feel the warmth of his breath on his face. He drew his fist back, and plunged it into Merric’s gut. Winded, Merric was left gasping for air.

Kevyn reached into his pocket, and pulled out some rusty shears. He shook them in Merric’s face, chuckling to himself. “Xanon will be here in ten days, ladykiller. To help you remember that, we’re going to play a little game.”

Kevyn reached up and grabbed at Merric’s left hand. Merric’s hand squirmed in Kevyn’s grip, trying to loosen it and get a handle of its own. If he could just get a damn grip...

Kevyn growled as he struggled to immobilise the hand. He crushed the thumb into the palm, leaving no room for movement. The fingers still jerked, but there was no strength behind it.

“What you have here is your own personal calendar. You should be grateful, none of the others get one. You have ten fingers, and ten days. I’m gonna go from left to right, so you can read it like a book.” Kevyn paused, placing Merric’s left little finger between the blades of the shears. “One down, nine to go.”

Snip.

-

Powerful arms held Merric back as he thrashed. It was no good; against this many, there was nothing he could do. The King laughed, relishing the moment.

“How does it feel, Merric? All this time, and you never saw the signs. Your pointless ideals made you blind.”

Merric snarled, and tried to break free. There was a knife on the table. It would be a simple task to slit the King’s throat. It would end it all.

“I’ll give you one last chance, Merric. You’ve been working for me for years, and I value your...” he flourished, searching for the right word, “efficiency. You’ve been doing it all this time, does knowing really make that much of a difference?”

Merric managed to get an arm free, but not for long. The guard grabbed it, and wrenched it behind his back.

“I’ll fucking kill you, you bastard!” screamed Merric, sending spittle flying across the room in his rage.

The King sighed, and folded his arms. “How disappointing. Well, no matter. I don’t need you, anyway.” He turned to the guards at the door. “Bring the girl.”

Merric stopped resisting right away. Oh god, no. No, no, no, no. If he had stopped to think of what the worst case scenario would be, this would be it. Hands down.

The guards left the room, and returned moments later with Elenya bound and gagged. As her eyes met Merric’s, he saw they were wide and wild with panic.

“Your last chance, Merric. You wouldn’t want anything to happen to such a promising young lady, would you?”

“God dammit, don’t you fucking dare. DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE.”

“Well, that wasn’t unexpected,” said the King as he picked up the knife. Seeing this, Elenya started shouting, though the sound was muted. The King slapped her, and she fell silent. He removed the gag roughly.

“Any last words?”

Elenya spat at the King, hitting him in the eye. Her voice was quavering, and she shook slightly. “Xanon’s going to kill you for this. Just you wait.”

The King scowled as he wiped the spit from his face. “Oh, I doubt that.”

He grabbed at Elenya’s hair, and pulled her head back. She struggled, but there was nothing she could do. Her eyes, welling with tears, met Merric’s for the last time.

The King made sure that Merric was watching, and smiled. With a swift movement, he drew the knife across her throat.

-

Kevyn stepped back, startled. Merric had exploded with a frenzy of unparalleled, bestial rage. Incomprehensible screams echoed through the dungeons as Merric thrashed at his chains with ungodly strength. Blood dripped from what was left of his left hand, and his shackles tore at his skin as he struggled.

“I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU!” Merric roared as Kevyn stumbled out of the cell. Merric’s eyes were glazed and unseeing, blinded by his rage.

Shaking slightly, Kevyn looked back at Merric. The prisoner was completely helpless, and his fury was entirely impotent. He was at Kevyn’s mercy. Kevyn was in control. Kevyn was god. He wanted this; he wanted some sport. He’d seen outbursts like this before, and he should be used to it.

...But why was he so scared?