The Iron Butterfly (Iron Butterfly #1)(3)

“Don’t need too, just need to get their attention,” Kael grunted between throws.

“What!” Tym hissed. “You can’t be serious. You want them to come?” His voice changed to a higher pitch as his nervous laughter got the better of him. “He wants them to come down here? Th-they are gonna be mad, they’re gonna b-b-beat us.”

“Please don’t!” My body started to shake at the thought of the beatings we would receive for breaking the rules. I could handle the pain, I couldn’t handle the machine. “I don’t want to go back into that room.” Now my voice was quavering. “I can’t take it anymore.” Hoping my pleas didn’t fall on deaf ears; I pressed my body against the cold door and prayed.

The noise stopped for an instant as if he heard me, and then picked up again with a desperate fervor. He interspersed the banging of the plate with kicking, pounding and yelling. I pressed my back to the cell door, slid down to the floor and resigned myself to the painful punishment that would be doled out to all of us equally.

“What’s going on?” Scar Lip yelled as he opened the door followed by three guards. None of the Septori in their robes appeared. I wondered briefly where they were. The armed men rushed to the cell and gathered around Kael’s door.

“Over here, you moron! I have information that your master wants!” Kael had immediately directed Scar Lip’s attention onto himself, instead of Tym and me.

Scar Lip halted suspiciously outside Kael's cell door. “What is the information that you have for him and is it valuable?” he asked.

“Oh, it's life changing alright.”

Scar Lip licked his lips in anticipation. “What is it that you want me to know?”

“I thought it imperative that your master knows,” Kael paused for effect, “That you are a slimy, no-good, rotten toad. A bastard son of a flea-ridden donkey.”

“Quiet!” Scar Lip hissed.

“You can’t even think for yourself. You must like the taste of dirt because you grovel so much to the Raven.”

“Shut up!” Scar Lip pounded on the door. “Or you’ll be sorry! I’ll make you wish you’d never been born!”

“I’m already sorry. I’m sorry that I’m subjected to seeing your ugly face every day. You know only a dog or a mother could love that face. No, I’m wrong. Your mother must be a dog to love the likes of you,” Kael taunted.

That did it. Scar Lip with his thick fingers grabbed the keys from his belt and shoved it into the lock. The other guards grabbed their clubs, and entered one by one into the cell.

I ducked to the floor and lifted the metal flap to try and see what was going on. But all I saw was the dust cloud made from the scuffling of their feet. I heard fighting and grunting and I hoped Kael was the one dealing the punches.

Finally, the fighting stopped, the dust settled, and I saw Scar Lip emerge from the cell with a victorious smirk on his face. Following behind him were two of the guards dragging Kael between them by his forearms. The third guard trailed behind.

Kael was dead or unconscious. His long, dark hair covered most of his face except for a blue headband around his forehead. His body was long, lean and well-muscled, if a bit thin. His dirty and torn clothes marked him for either a hired sword or a mercenary. In his current weakened condition it was suicide to try and take on all of the men at once.

“Let’s give him a session on the machine,” Scar Lip roared angrily.

“But we’re not supposed to enter Raven’s workshop when the he’s not there,” a nervous guard spoke up.

“Shut up, you idiot. No one will know but us, and believe me, this one needs another lesson in obedience,” a second guard intervened.

As they drew closer to my cell I started to feel an intense pressure in my mind; a headache that pulsed at my temples. I closed my eyes to stop the pressure and I almost missed Kael spring to life.

Kael, who I thought was unconscious, moved in a flash and grabbed the knife from the guard’s belt. He thrust the blade upwards into the guard’s throat, sinking the blade in to the hilt. Pulling it out, the guard released Kael's arm and fell to the ground choking, his life ebbing away.

Before the guard even hit the ground, Kael had gained his footing and slashed at the man holding his other arm, slicing in a downward arc and forcing the other guard to release him.

The rear guard rushed him while swinging his short sword at Kael. The difference in the two blade sizes made Kael look like he was playing with a toy.

Kael jumped back, missing the swing of the short sword, as he adjusted the weight of his confiscated knife in his hand. When the sword swung at him again, Kael ducked and took the brunt force of the sword handle on his shoulder. Wrapping his hand around the rear guard’s arm, he swung the handle of the knife into the man's temple, knocking him unconscious.

Scar Lip screamed obscenities at the last guard, “Grab him, you fool! What are you doing? Hit him! Don’t let him up!” all the while keeping a safe distance.

But Kael was bleeding from his shoulder wound, and he was still outnumbered two to one and tiring quickly. The second guard, also bleeding from a slash on his arm, carefully stalked Kael; trying to push him back toward his opened cell. He pulled out a knife from his boot and picked up the dead guard’s knife. There was no way Kael could take out the guard with two knives unless he threw his dagger, giving up his only weapon.