Rith heaved the steel grate with all his strength, the metal gouging loudly into the stone as it slid aside, sending sparks and echoes ricocheting through the corridor. He hurriedly ushered his wife and son through the gap behind the grate, his stomach clenching as he realised the noise would certainly give them away.

Rith let go of the grate, the rusted metal leaving orange dents in his hands.

There wasn’t time to slide the grate back into place; their pursuers were coming ever closer, and replacing it would cause more noise.

He crouched low, slid beneath the grate and into the darkness to join his family.

            The circular tunnel was wide enough for two people to walk abreast, so Rith lead the way, gripping one hand on his wife and the other on his son as they trailed behind him.

Cold waste trickled along the tunnel floor, seeping in through Rith’s shoes and sloshing uncomfortably between his toes.

Their splattering footsteps echoed sharply in the tight space as they sped through the passage. Pillars of light radiated in through other grates in the tunnel, illuminating the water just enough for Rith to see where he was going.

            After thirty paces, he slowed down and released his hold on his wife and son. “It should be right around here,” he whispered as softly as he could. “Stay close”.

Rith ran his hands along the cold walls, the stone rasping beneath his calloused fingers. Suddenly his left hand dropped into nothingness as another tunnel abruptly branched off from the main drain.

“This way.” He ducked into the smaller side passage, bowing his head to fit into the space.

Rith wrinkled his nose at the rotten stench emanating from this tunnel. The water beneath his feet rapidly thickened into sludge. He took small strides, edging precariously down into the black abyss of the passage. His rapid breathing was ringing far too loudly in his ears. No grates were fixed to the smaller sewers; it was so dark Rith wasn’t sure if his eyes were open or closed. He couldn’t even see the blue-grey colour of his robes.

A deep voice called out behind them, echoing down from the larger tunnel they had just turned away from. It reverberated off the walls, ceiling and floor, confusing Rith as the voice bounced back and forth, up and down in all directions, becoming less human with each echo. Fear stabbed in Rith’s chest as his son let out a terrified yelp.

The voice hollered again, accompanied by another aggressive shout and thudding footsteps charging towards them.

“Move!” Rith snatched up his wife’s wrist and shuffled as quickly as he dared away from the voices. They had already been found. Rith was sure he would have a few minutes head start, and even longer until they discovered he had used the sewers to escape. He pulled his family faster through the blackness.

Rith lost his footing, slipping on the filth and landing brutally on his knees. He careered forwards, the skin on his knees grating against the tunnel floor. Rith plunged his hands through the slop, pressing them to the cold ground, finally bringing himself to a sliding halt. His wife, Jalene, slammed into the back of him; a deep nerve-shattering pain radiated through his back as her head crashed into his spine.

The chaotic splashing of footsteps grew louder, ringing deafeningly sharp in Rith’s ears. Rith felt surrounded by the echoes in the tunnel, and pulled his wife close. The footsteps abruptly stopped. Rith daren’t move: it was impossible to tell how close their pursuers were.

He almost vomited when he heard a strangled cry escape his son’s throat, accompanied by something being dragged roughly through the waste. His son was swiftly hauled back out of the tunnel, the sounds of his thrashing fading away as quickly as they’d begun.

Jalene’s bony hands dug into Rith’s shoulders, and he felt a small twinge of pride that she had managed to remain silent while their boy was taken. Rith squeezed her shoulders in return; it’s going to be okay. Then Jalene was suddenly and violently ripped away from his grasp.

He was alone in the darkness now, but he could sense something near him. Sometimes he caught the faintest whisper of a breath or the rustling of cloth as they moved. What were they waiting for? He knew he perhaps should fight, but had resolved a long time ago to stand by his family, no matter what.

A gloved hand clasped onto the back of Rith’s head an instant before cold, hard metal slammed into his face. The sword hilt crunched powerfully onto his nose, sending his head springing backwards. Warmth trickled down Rith’s chin, gushing rapidly down onto his robes. He was dimly aware of arms hooking him under the armpits and hauling him up to the main tunnel.

Then came a blow to the ribs, and then another, and another. His head swirled in the blackness. He couldn’t breathe, he needed to breathe. He sucked in an agonising breath and in flooded a river of blood, metallic and tangy on his tongue.

Rith’s legs hung limply, dragging through the icy waste at the bottom of the tunnel as he choked on the bitter taste of his own blood.

Light grew as they turned right into the main tunnel. Well done, Rith commended himself sarcastically. Look how far you got - down two lousy tunnels. He blinked back the tears that had swelled in his eyes from the stinging pulse in his nose, and could make out three pairs of ironclad boots slapping through the watery sewage. Two went in front, and two now held him up, one on either side. He couldn’t see where they’d taken Jalene and Anwar.

Rith had to scrunch up his eyes against the brilliant white light as they hauled him past the grate he had broken in through. They didn’t take him back out the way his family had entered; the soldiers just continued their rhythmic journey through the sewers. Of course they wouldn’t go up into the streets or the castle, thought Rith. They would never risk the people finding out the truth, finding out who he was or what he had done.

The minutes dragged on, and the only thing to mark the passing of time was the intermittent beams of light cutting through the blackness each time they passed another grate near the arched roof of the tunnel.

Rith’s misery continued until they turned into an upwards sloping side tunnel and he was thrown into a dank room at the end of the tunnel passage. His wife and son were there, huddled by the circular doorway, candlelight flickering across their fearful faces. Rith’s heart clenched at the sight of Anwar’s eye’s widening as he took in his father’s blood-soaked robes and crooked nose.

The dimly lit room reeked of damp. Water drops glistened as they trickled slowly down the walls. Rith stood, his raw, skinless knees stinging as he moved. He rushed over to his family, trailing slime from his robes as he moved. He embraced them in a wide-armed hug, reassuring them both that he was fine.

A man flanked by two hooded guards strode into the room. Rith’s throat tightened as he recognised the man as Darge. His knees weakened as guilt overwhelmed him. What had he done? His family would surely pay for his mistake. Rith led them into the sewers thinking it would be secret, safe, but instead had led them into Darge’s arms. He was a fool to try and escape. He had doomed them all, doomed his wife and son.

The heavy door swung shut, and then clicked dully as it was bolted from the outside. There was no escape from this.

Darge stood opposite them, his legs apart, one gloved hand rested on the hilt of his sword, and the other clenched in a fist at his side. Rith had only met Darge twice before and was just as terrified to look upon him now as he was the previous times.

The man always dressed in black, covering his entire body up to his face. Today he wore his decorative armour, swathed in his usual black cloak. The metal on his breast plate was covered in shell from a Cryode’s back, the dully polished discs layered atop one another all the way up his neck, resting just beneath his chin and digging into his stubble-ridden flesh.

Darge twisted his lips into a thin smile, forcing the folded skin of his jowl to protrude grossly over the edges of the skull bones. “Good to see you again Rith,” said Darge without a shred of sincerity.

“Wish I could say the same,” Rith replied through gargles of the blood still oozing from his newly misshapen nose. As a reward for his sarcasm, one of the guards standing beside Darge swung a heavily booted foot into Rith’s shoulder.

Darge held out a hand to still the guard. “Come now,” he began, “that is unnecessary. I, for one, appreciate your candour, Rith. And after all, you’ll receive punishment enough for today’s little stunt.” Jalene’s hand clenched on Rith’s arm, her nails digging into his flesh through his robes.

His green eyes flashing with pleasure at the family’s obvious fear, Darge stomped slowly over to a chair in the corner and neatly folded himself into it. Everything above his upper lip was now rested in shadow, his features unreadable through the blackness.

Rith began to survey the other sparse furnishings in the room for the first time. His eyes kept returning to a waist high stone slab. It glistened with wetness, and Rith could not be sure but when the candlelight flickered a certain way, the pools of liquid sitting in the tiny grooves of the stone appeared to glisten a deep shade of red. His eyes swept down to the floor by the slab. Congealed blood clung to the dents in the cobble stones, and pure terror clamped around Rith’s heart as he realised what this place could be.

He had thought the sewer tunnels would be safest, the most secret way to lead his family to safety. Apparently he had led them into Darge’s interrogation room. Rumours floated around amongst the city folk on the existence of this place. Whispers of men being carried away in the middle of the night to be questioned, often for days. Some men came back in pieces. Some never came back at all.

Rith watched Darge surveying them, rolling his tongue along the edges of his teeth as he watched the family’s fear grow, appearing to relish the sharp sensation in his mouth. The dim candlelight ignited brief flashes of green in Darge’s eyes, causing glimmers like the eyes of a jungle cat stalking through the undergrowth in the dead of night. Rith glared into those eyes and held his gaze, refusing to look away. He would stare Darge down if it was the last thing he did.

Darge snapped his mouth shut, and then motioned to his two guards with a slight nod and the wave of a gloved hand. The guards sprang into action, their capes billowing as they approached the family. One wrapped his bulging arms around Jalene’s waist and ripped her from Rith’s grasp. The other went for Rith, who planted a kick in the guard’s stomach and shielded his son in the corner.

The guard unsheathed a sword from its holster and pointed it steadily at Rith. “It’s either you, or your son,” he rumbled, moving the sword from Rith to Anwar as he spoke. The guard moved for Rith again, and this time he didn’t fight. He allowed himself to be pulled away from Anwar, trying his best to mask the terror coursing through his veins.

A burst of pain crunched through Rith’s shins as they collided with the floor. The guards then forced Jalene down on her knees by her husband. Their hands were tied roughly behind their back, the tattered fibres of their bonds grating against their skin.

Anwar fidgeted nervously on his own, balling his tiny hands into little fists. Only the bloodied stone pillar stood between them. He seemed so small standing alone by the enormous round door. But then he is small, thought Rith, he is only eight sun-cycles old.

Jalene quivered beside him. A lock of her hair had fallen loose from its bun and fluttered across her clammy face as she trembled.

Rith watched Darge leaning back casually in his chair, shadow cascading across his face and body. Nothing but a dark shape against an even darker background. He waited for him to say or do something, anything, but the moments dragged on in agonising stillness.

Darge suddenly heaved himself up, the discs on his breast plate jarring into each other with hollow clicks. He paced slowly over to the boy.

"You disappoint me Rith," Darge began, the leather on his gloves creaking as he placed his hand on Anwar's shoulder and curled his fingers down onto the boy’s collarbone. “I kept your family safe, as promised. I fed them, took care of them, and asked only one thing of you in return.” Anger rose up within Rith, a purely animalistic ball of rage starting from his gut and rising through his stomach, his chest, and up to his throat. He kept it at bay, swallowing it down through gritted teeth. Something felt wrong here; why was Anwar not tied up? Why was Darge standing next to his son, with amused crinkles in the corners of his green eyes?

“You failed to keep up your side of our agreement, Rith,” Darge slid his hand down Anwar’s arm as he spoke, and then roughly clamped his hand around the boy’s wrist. Jalene’s bottom lip quivered. “Now, I fear, I must forsake my promises to you.”

Darge yanked Anwar forwards, pulling him by the arm towards the slab of dark stone. The boy stumbled over his own feet as he surged forwards and let out a heart wrenching yelp that penetrated Rith's soul.

Jalene cried out, struggling against her bonds as a hulking guardsman held her back easily with one arm.

Darge thumped Anwar's skinny arm down onto the top of the slab, the boy's skin wrinkling as he tried desperately to twist, pull and writhe his way out of Darge's grasp.

Darge drew his sword from his side, the metal sliding against the rim of its scabbard.

Anwar’s eyes widened with terror, his eyebrows shooting up underneath his hair. The boy let out a blood-curdling scream, his high pitched howl echoing around the chamber.

Rith gave in as soon as the screaming started. "I'm sorry," cried Rith. "I swear to you I'll never try to escape again. I swear to you I am yours." He struggled against his bonds, heaving his shoulders forwards as the ropes around his wrists grated into his skin. "I'll do anything you ask of me. Anything. Always! I'm always yours. Please!" His wrists became warm as his bonds bit through his flesh, releasing his blood. Tears rained to the floor, pouring down Jalene’s cheeks and exploding as they hit the stone.

The deafening fusion of screaming, begging and sobbing rung deep in Rith’s ears, sending dizzying stabs of pain through his skull. Darge appeared unaffected; he stood eerily still, head lowered, sword firmly at his side, and his eyes were ever fixed on Rith.

He raised his sword, the tip catching a flash of candlelight and almost touching the ceiling.

“Let this be a lesson to you.” Darge plunged his blade down and cut off the boy’s hand. The blade clunked into the stone pillar and Anwar slumped to the floor with a wet thud as the boy lost consciousness. His hand remained atop the slab, the fingers frozen as he had clenched them.

The silence that ensued was more shattering than the cacophony of sound that had preceded it.