Her bare feet tiptoed rapidly across the hard floor as she was moved along the hall, towards the lone exit. They had traveled through the maze of cells long enough, but never once did a ray of light grace her pupils. As the four crossed the threshold of the cell block, however, Onion's other senses were given a veritable feast. Sounds from above the dungeon touched her inner ears. The air lost its stale flavor and the odor of decay was replaced with the stink of sweat and blood. As she was pushed further along, her toes squished through a sticky, congealed substance; blood.
The way out was a winding set of stairs past the guard station and bunks. Up the stairs, where throngs of nobles would soon await their sacrifice, lie the courtyard and gallows entertainment center; the same one Onion and Cedric were herded through upon arrival to this hated place, the Archne Estate. Onion knew these locations would be heavily guarded. She wondered if their kidnappers were simply a couple of fools sending them all to a speedy death. After all, no amount of stealth and trickery could blot out the moon and all of his stars.
The rough arm commanding Onion's movement relaxed and let go half a second before the much slighter hand of his partner clasped her wrist. Within moments Onion heard a small click and both she and Cedric found themselves pulled to the floor, under a bunk. Through a trap door, Onion finally found herself on her hands and knees, released from the restraint of her captors.
She took a moment to revel at the moist smell of the dirt; its flavor of life in the organic debris and hints of earthy metals. The soil now stuck to her feet, caking the layer of blood she had acquired while walking from the dungeon. Her fingers, however, marveled, pawing at the fine grains. With soil, there is freedom and life. The tiny seed of hope had cracked open, as if to sprout.
The Nü's celebration was cut short as the larger hand behind her shoved her bottom, indicating his desire that she move forward.
Frisky is it?
Onward, on hands and knees, the four of them traveled through the tunnel. The slender set of hands led the group, and Cedric kept pace in front of Onion. To the captives, it seemed they had travelled through the tunnel for days, although an hour was probably closer to the mark. It was just long enough that Onion began to experience claustrophobia setting in and taste the acrid flavor of metallic fear in her mouth. Her joy in the sensations of the soil was rapidly squelched as pebbles and roots dug into her palms and bare knees. For Cedric and herself, the burlap sack turned prison attire did nothing to ease their journey.
Their progress was further delayed as every hundred feet or so the man behind Onion would remove support beams and set a small, muted, explosive, causing that recently vacated portion of the tunnel to collapse. Onion could feel the fear radiating from Cedric, but their kidnappers shepherded the two of them along without mercy.
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