“GOHRASS!
We have captured Kah Duhran!”
The heavy throne room doors burst open. Gar Rog, appointed Seer from the royal court, dispenses with formalities in alerting the Viceroy of the added danger to an already desperate situation.
“What?!”
Some attendees to the emergency meeting growl from the back of their throats as part of a nervous defensive reflex.
“And you brought them here?!”
Imperial guards follow the oracle into the legislative chamber. Two pair supporting poles between them, suspending the couple by their wrists, which also happen to be bound behind their backs. With tearing pain electrifying shoulders, having been twisted in this abnormal manner.
“Who are they?”
“A farmer and his wife from Temek.”
Harsh treatment since capture is clearly evident on both, as blood stained clothes are reduced to mere rags.
Gar Gohrass, Viceroy of Rohur, standing under an immense circular, domed skylight, turns and faces the procession as they enter the stone assembly hall.
“What makes you say they are Kah Duhran?”
The Viceroy plainly displeased with the interruption.
“And why would Kah Duhran be in a sewer town like Temek?”
The guards stop, just inside the wooden arched doors. Rog proceeds into the ring of stone columns which provide support for the glass canopy above.
“There is talk of them spreading subversive lies against the royal rule.”
Both having to elevate their discussion due to the constant drone which is now getting noticeably louder by the hour.
“That does not make them Kah Duhran, that just makes them insurgents.”
An uneasy chatter from bystanders begins, complementing the already ominous background noise.
“Why are you wasting my time with such nonsense? Are you not aware that we have more pressing concerns to deal with?”
Agitation from all parties is palpable.
“I am a Royal Seer and I say there is more to these two than just being pesky insurgents.”
Gohrass relents, his impatience demanding a hasty resolution.
“Fine. Bring them!”
Rog summons the pole bearing guards, which then unceremoniously dispose of the humanoids just within the perimeter of the hefty pillars, not too far from where the Viceroy and his consul are standing.
“The male is Aros. The female, Kei-Len.”
Aros stood first, hands still bound, his body relieved that the strain on weary shoulders had eased.
Behind her husband, Kei-Len rises slower, exhaustion more visible. Momentarily placing her forehead on his back, before gaining composure and taking a step forward.
“Alright?”
Aros asks softly, when the sensation of his wife’s resting head gave indication to her discomfort.
Resilience returns to her face, as Kei-Len takes a breath and nods in acknowledgement.
“They do not look much to me. Have you interrogated them?”
The Seer now irritable with the Viceroy’s misgivings.
“We tried!”
Gohrass looks over Aros.
“Are you Kah Duhran, farmer?”
No response.
“We have not been able to get anything out of him.”, Rog interjects, attempting to hurry the process.
“Well rip it out of his mind, you are the Seer after all!”
“I have not been able to do that. That is why I suspect they are Kah Duhran.”
“What about her?”
“Her as well.”
“What kind of incompetence does the Royal Court send me?”
Snot ejects from the mystic’s snout as he snarls back with a grimacing stare, not willing to risk any greater show of petulance.
Now increasingly agitated, Gohrass turns his attention back to Aros.
“Did you bring that destruction upon us?!”
Pointing up through the skylight to a now sizeable orange ball, wagging its tail, contrasting the night sky.
“No.”, Came the reply.
“Do not toy with me, sewer farmer.
If you are Kah Duhran, then I demand you stop that abomination. NOW!”
Aros says nothing, as he stares back at the hulking seven-foot lizard, dressed in red tunic, embellished with the emblem of his royal order.
Kei-Len meanwhile, looks around the room, making note of the rock pylons leading up to the round, transparent covering, which frames the fireball almost perfectly. Giving the impression of an eye with a dilating fiery pupil.
Gohrass notices her inquisitiveness.
“I do not have time for this.
Continue to play with me and I will squash this woman of yours like a bug.”
Discovering a semblance of her normal vigour, Kei-Len allows her natural feistiness to surface.
“Your words are hollow.”
Eyes widening and displeased with such insolence, Gohrass shoots back.
“What?! Why does your woman speak for you?”
Again, no response from Aros, as he looks at her, curiously.
“Are your threats intended to intimidate children?”, Kei-Len continues, seemingly a little too comfortable, given the current circumstance.
“This woman annoys me. I will squeeze her head like a puss filled infection and you will have front seat for the show!”
“We have watched each other die a thousand times.”, she states. As if it were a mere trifle.
Aros, with an increasing sense of dread, feels the need to underline the seriousness of the situation.
“Yes, and each time more painful than the last.”, addressing her.
…
…It took a moment.
But as Kei-Len looks back to him,
a tear soon forms.
Along with a discrete, surrendering sigh.
Whilst reliving the sombre truthfulness
within his piercing statement…
…
“ENOUGH!”
A reptilian paw grabs her by the throat, slamming her like a doll against the nearest stone pillar.
“Bind this witch to the column!
You have one last chance, farmer.”, Threatens Gohrass.
“If you are Kah Duhran, then end that. NOW!”, Referring again to the menace in the heavens.
“If you are not Kah Duhran, then you are both wasting my time.
Which will it be?”
Aros locks eyes with Kei-Len. She knew what the response would be.
“…”
“If that is your choice.”
With the rock structure at her back providing the necessary resistance, a fist collapses Kei-Len’s rib-cage and a hand then reaches in, crushes and tears out her heart.
A roar erupts in the throne room.
The excitement of the audience overflows with enthusiasm, as the brutish display gives temporary distraction to the fate descending upon them.
…
…Aros, just stood.
Eyes still anchored on Kei-Len.
Watching her life drain away, like the emptying of a ruptured container.
But Awareness, is unmoved.
He sees her eyes slowly close, as blood streams from her chest.
But Awareness, does not waver.
He watches her head slump forward, restrained at the neck.
But Awareness, remains resolute.
He suffers this scene being burnt to his memory.
But Awareness, is unflinching.
He senses his legs almost buckle beneath him.
But Awareness, will not run.
He feels his gut being twisted and ripped apart.
But Awareness, will not hide.
He notes his heart being crushed by an ethereal hand.
But Awareness, does not falter.
He accepts a tsunami of panic wash over him.
But Awareness, remains steadfast.
He discovers new levels of pain, as each time before.
But Awareness, will not submit.
He notices Gohrass and his frenzied red eyes.
But Awareness, does not surrender.
He perceives the blood-lust rage of the assembled horde.
But Awareness, is unyielding.
He hears the loudening roar that envelops it all.
But Awareness, remains enduring.
Given these horrific events and his agonising reaction,
Awareness does not stagger, not even in the slightest.
Awareness, remains Still…
…
Gohrass stands directly before him, sneering, smirking, pleased with what he has done.
“This is your doing. This is what you chose.”, he mocks.
Now witness to Kei-Len’s heart being thrust into his impassive face, Aros fixes eyes on the Viceroy.
Blood drips from Gohrass’s silver-green jaw, as every last piece of the organ, is spitefully devoured.
