I awoke on the cold floor, my arms and legs tied behind me. My jaw was forced open by a roll of cloth stuffed inside. Nothing hurt, but that didn’t mean I was comfortable. Looking around, I was on the floor of a large room carved from rock. Pickaxe marks covered the wall, illuminated by hanging lanterns. Those same lanterns lit up the faces of harska, who looked angrily down at me. They stood huddled on a red carpet, with designs woven with a golden thread.

At the back of the room was a throne carved out of stone. The rough stone reflected light off it in uneven patterns, creating a menacing shadow. Sitting on the throne was a grey-colored harska. His body was slightly overweight, hanging lazily off the throne. Yellow eyes, with a hint of green, stared down at me.

For the first time, I noticed my two companions lying beside me. Nia and Greenspring were bound but their gags had already been removed. They hadn’t woken up yet. I looked up at the harska on the throne, he was dressed in plain brown clothes made of wool. He smiled and pointed a finger at one of the harska nearby. They grabbed the ropes holding my limbs together and jerked me upward onto my knees. One of them pulled out my gag, letting it drip spit onto the floor.

The harska laughed. “So, these are the humans who attacked my brothers and sisters at Kent’s Crossing? How pathetic. I was prepared for a real fight out of you.”

“Who are you?” I asked.

He stood up and walked toward me. “I am Gunner, The Rebel King. First of my name, first of my line.” The crowd of harska cheered loudly for their leader. Gunner let them praise him for a bit, before stopping them with a glance. He looked down at me. “I’m more interested in who you are, bard.”

Gunner pointed to Greenspring, “I’ve heard of the dire wolf, son of the lifeless tiger. Protector of the eternal grove. Though his disguise was clever, it could never mask his true scent. My nose can always sniff out cowards.” He spat on the unconscious druid.

Nia groaned and shifted. She raised her head and looked uneasily at the harska, who stared back in return. “It seems that the princess has decided to join us. How’s your daddies’ kingdom serving him? Better now that you’re gone?”

“How do you—” Nia started to ask.

“I’ve researched quite a bit about you since you killed my brothers and sisters,” said Gunner. “I’ve always been one to prepare for everything.” He nodded. 

“Yes, I’ve discovered the tales of a northern princess who ran away from home to escape the throne. Of course, it was easy to find out who you were. At least the druid tried to disguise himself.” Gunner laughed. “A pleasure to have you in my court, Princess Blackhorn. I’ll make sure to give you a room close to our own princess. I’m sure the two of you will have plenty to talk about.”

The rebel king turned to look at me. He was so close I could smell fish from the local river on his breath. I turned away, only to be pulled back by Gunner’s hand. Anger surged through me, but all I could do was glare at him. His smile fell as it turned into a curious frown. Gunner’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked at me. From this distance, his demeanor made up for his small stature.

“I’ve never heard of you, bard. I know you entered Kent’s Crossing on the back of some merchant. From what my scouts tell me, you play well. I’m curious to see why you stand with these outcasts. I wonder why some nameless musician thinks he’s worthy to kill my brothers and sisters?”

“I didn’t kill anybody,” I replied through gritted teeth. While I was furious, I was still afraid. Both emotions fought for control, but there was little I could do either way. Still, it couldn’t get any worse than the situation we were in. No reason to beg for forgiveness.

“Lies,” said Gunner. He stood up and turned around, pulling up the back of his shirt. His tail, long and thin, wrapped around his waist. Names were etched into his back in writing, so small I could only read it as close as I was. The scars were still red as if they were carved recently. 

He turned his head back to me. “These are the names of my siblings, the same siblings you killed at that blacksmith’s house. Do you even remember their faces? Their last words? Or did you see them as kindling for your bloodlust?” 

“Your siblings attacked first!” yelled Nia. “What were we supposed to do, let them take Tamara?”

“Yes,” replied Gunner. “You should have worshipped the ground they walked on.”

Gunner made his way back to his throne. Greenspring had started to wake up but hadn’t made any noise. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him breathing heavily. His eyes squinted up at the throne. The harska at the edges of the chamber watched their king in awe. 

Sitting on his throne, Gunner gestured to us. “I’m not like you. Whereas you take for yourselves, I provide for my family. Perhaps you should be taught my grand mercy. Send them to the pit.”

Three guards stepped forward and grabbed onto our ropes. Nia struggled and cursed Gunner in every way that she knew, causing him to laugh. Greenspring whispered under his breath. I tried to catch what he was saying, but Nia’s yelling made it difficult. A small butterfly fell out of Greenspring’s mouth, landing gracefully on the stone floor. One of the guards noticed and stepped on it with his foot. Then Greenspring too began to curse the harska.

The pit was similar to the hole that we were investigating before. It could have been the same one, but I wasn’t sure. They tied another rope onto the ropes already binding us and dropped us into the darkness. I went first. As they lowered me deeper into the pit, the smell grew stronger. It was like a full-course meal of disgust. I tried to hold my breath as I reached the bottom, but it only made it worse when I gasped for air. 

The bottom of the hole was packed with straw. It blanketed my fall as I hit the bottom. Now that I was looking from inside it, I could see that the pit formed into a cave. I couldn’t see very far into the darkness, but I could see shapes moving. Nia and Greenspring soon landed beside me.

One of the shapes rushed forward to cut the ropes off of us. Based on the shape and size, it was a harska. I rubbed my arms where the rope had cut against my skin. The harska fled back into the darkness after freeing Nia and Greenspring. We tried to look around to get some sense of our surroundings, but it was too dark.

Nia helped Greenspring off the floor. Carefully, she brushed bits of straw off his clothes. I tried to walk over to help, but the uneven flooring made it difficult. Below the straw was a layer of dirt and loose stones. After catching myself from falling for the third time, I decided to stay in place.

Before we were lowered into the pit, the harska took any belongings we had on us. They left our clothes, thankfully. I waited to check my boot for my dagger. It was too dangerous with so many unknowns.

“Norman,” Nia whispered. “Can you see anything?”

“No, hold on.” I wiped my hand on my shirt, then I reached toward my eye and plucked out an eyelash. It was painful but necessary for what I had in mind. Closing my hand around the eyelash, I began to sing, “Shimmering splendor above the clouds, give us a minuscule fragment of your elegance.”

A dim light grew around my hands, revealing the area around us. There were twenty people gathered in the room, all pushed against the outer wall. Now that I could see clearly, I knew the smell was them. Unable to wash themselves for who knows how long, they had become filthy.

Humans, elves, dwarves, and harska made up the prisoners. None of the humans looked like Tamara, Henry, or Arienne, but it was hard to tell in the dim light. Though none of them looked to be the right height to be Arienne. Everyone but the harska was shaved. They were all dressed in rags.

One of the harska stepped forward, bowing her head. Her fur was black, with large patches of white. Unlike the other harska, the white patches of her fur were clean. She had amber-colored eyes. “Welcome to my court,” the harska said, sadly.

“Your court? Is that some kind of joke?” I asked.

She shook her head. “My name is Princess. This is all I have left of my royal court since the rebel, Gunner, took it over.”

Several of the harska behind her spat onto the ground. I turned to Nia and Greenspring, who shrugged in turn. We hadn’t come here to deal with a political coup, and I had no intention of re-establishing old dynasties. Our friends and family were our only concern.

“Is there anyone else down here? Red hair, human, blacksmith?” Nia asked.

Princess shook her head and frowned. “We don’t have anyone down here of that description. If I may ask, what’s a blacksmith? Does that show what town they are from?”

A dwarf behind her laughed. Without his beard, I only knew he was a dwarf by his size. His skin was the palest I had ever seen a dwarf. Even after spending years under the earth, dwarfs tended towards darker skin tones. What happened to these people? The dwarf wiped a tear from his eye and walked forward.

“Can’t say I’ve ever heard that, miss. Don’t know what a blacksmith is? Must have fish stuck up them ears if ya ain’t heard about smithing,” said the dwarf.

“Don’t talk to her majesty like that!” growled a harska.

“Know your place, Derrig!” yelled another.

Derrig, the dwarf, held up his hands. “I’m saying the missus needs to get out more. Might be why Gunner took over so easy.” The dwarf then began to explain, in great detail, all the intricacies of the forge. The correct heat for smelting raw ore, how hard you hit the metal with a hammer, and prices for completed goods.

Princess looked even more confused than when Derrig began. Tired of hearing the dwarf talk, I stepped in. “If I may, your majesty, how long have you all been stuck down here? What happened?”

The harska sat down, gesturing to the rest of us to do so as well. The other prisoners followed, but Nia and I hesitated for more than a second. Greenspring grabbed onto my shoulder as he eased himself down. His weight leaning on me made it harder to not fall, but I managed.

“It all started several years ago when Gunner returned from his valldulas. That’s a journey we harska take before settling down for mating. His was a special one. A local wizard, may his soul rest under Szten’s watchful gaze, requested to travel with Gunner to the Igor Swamps. Normally, this sort of request would be denied. It is up to the royal court, of which we reside here, to choose the valldulas. This wizard was a friend to the harska. He protected our tribe from magical outsiders that might hope to enslave us. Against my father’s wishes, I allowed the request.

“They soon left for the Igor Swamps, and that was all we heard of them. The wizard had told me the journey wouldn’t take more than a month, or two if they ran into some trouble. Gunner returned alone six months later. He had a strange air about him. When people asked him how the valldulas went, he would change the subject. I questioned him at length: where the wizard was, what the journey was for, why had it taken so much time? Every question he refused to answer.

“Soon after that, he made an attempt on my father’s life. In the dead of night, he snuck into the royal chamber with other traitors he allied with. He planned to kill the king and queen and take over, but he failed. My father, King Falkas, planned to execute Gunner publicly, but my mother disagreed. She wanted to exile him. King Falkas agreed and Gunner was cast out.

“During his exile, rumors circulated that he was planning his revenge. Due to the falling condition of our people, sympathy for Gunner grew. Several harska believed he had suffered some great trauma during his valldulas. ‘It’s not his fault,’ they would say. ‘Any harska would act that way if they saw their friend die.’ Baseless rumors that my father wouldn’t allow. As the people grew more restless, he acted in haste. He began banishing those who questioned his methods of ruling. Including my mother. She died shortly after.

“By this point, over half of the harska sworn to serve under my father had been banished. My scouts told me that they were amassing under Gunner’s flag. ‘The Rebel King,’ they called him. I wasn’t sure if he desired the throne, or if he followed the whims of the people. Either way, the invasion came.

“It was quick, quiet, and bloody. I’m glad I never heard the screams of my people, still honoring the ancient ways. Those that feared for their lives, turned to Gunner for mercy. He welcomed them with open arms as if he was mocking my father’s previous actions. In front of the last of the royal guard, Gunner killed my father.

“These fine people are what’s left after Gunner’s rampage. He tears apart nearby settlements for sport, or whatever foul plans Gunner has for the world. Sometimes he brings those he captures down here to the pit. Gunner calls it mercy, but it is torture.”