Page 8 of Dragon Gods

“We caught General Ocon’s son,” she said, looking up as his other two captors made their way over to where he was lying. The older man’s eyes flashed with something that Fox did not like one bit.

“A lucky catch indeed,” he said, smiling coldly. “Go grab him dry clothes and bring them by the cell. He won’t be any use to us if he freezes to death.”

Fox watched with the smallest hint of amusement to see the woman’s eyes narrow at the command. But she didn’t argue, only marched away with a silent look of disdain. The younger man grabbed him and pulled him up and the older led them across the shore of the lake toward a crevice in the cavern’s side.

The moment they turned the corner, Fox realized that the cenote was larger than he’d first assumed. A large sitting area stretched out in a second cavern and dark tunnels led away in various directions. He was pulled down the rightmost path, a line of lanterns lighting their way. He tried to keep track of their route, but with each turn and twist he felt more disoriented than when he’d had the sack over his head. Every tunnel looked the same, dimly lit with half a dozen crudely cut wood doors lining each side.

His stomach twisted in unease wondering how many rebels were tucked away behind those doors. They’d always known they were dealing with a festering problems when it came to the resistance, but even the chief commander likely didn’t know how many there were.

After six turns that Fox was only seventy percent sure he could replicate, they finally stopped in front of a heavy wooden door. On the other side were the accommodations Fox was expecting. A chair sat in the middle of the room, a blanket draped across the back. A bucket tucked in the corner was the only other piece offurniturein the space, which was very obviously lacking even a lantern.

“Untie him and check him for weapons again,” the older man commanded.

Fox only flinched a bit as the cold blade of a dagger brushed across his wrists and a moment later his arms dropped free. He was polite enough to not punch the man who proceeded to carefully pat him down, as if his sodden clothes could have hidden anything.

“So what are you going to do with me?” he said, sneering around at the room.

“We’re just going to have a chat or two,” the older man said, blithely shrugging.

“I don’t have any important information.”

“We’ll be the judge of that. You never know what might be important to us.”

“So you think I’ll help you murder more innocent lives?” He spit on the ground between them. “I’d rather die.”

“That can be arranged.” The woman’s voice was cold as she came around the corner, holding a pile of clothes in her hands.

“Don’t,” the older man admonished and Fox smirked. He could see the muscle in her jaw tense as her mouth snapped shut. She looked at him, eyes narrowing at his expression, and her face twisted into something he recognized well. Hate and disgust.

He didn’t imagine his face looked much different.

Not breaking eye contact, she stepped forward, dropping the clothes on the ground and kicking them toward him. They dragged against the dirt floor, picking up the traces of mud scattered about from his dripping frame.

“Do you expect me to change while you watch?” He didn’t lean down to pick up the clothes. As much as he was excited to feel dry again, he didn’t want to break eye contact with the three rebels staring at him.

“No,” the old man said at the same moment the woman said. “Yes.”

The older man, clearly the boss, gave her an annoyed wave and ushered her and the other man out.

“Don’t try anything funny,” the woman said as she pulled the door closed behind them. “If you try to escape, I’ll personally cut off your ears and send one to your father and the other to Chief Commander Harlow.”

With that, the door shut and the hint of light from the lantern outside was extinguished.

He took a deep breath, keeping an image of the room in his mind as the blackness wrapped around him, constricting his chest. The room was wide, long enough to lay down twice over. It was plenty large.

Breathe.

He’d been through training on how to withstand torture and how to escape from situations such as this. This wouldn’t be how he died, not at the hands of Dragonborn and not when he’d finally found their base. He would do what no other king’s man had ever managed. He would get out of this and he’d march his brothers-in-arms right back here to kill them all.

FOX

AGE 18

While the Dragonborn were given the chance for assimilation with the creation of Suvi and placed under the protection of the crown and god-kings, no further movement was made toward conversion. The so-called Dragonborn continue to practice their heretical ways in secret, indicating either a blatant ignorance of truth or a purposeful scheme to undermine the rule of law.

-Elna F. Bello, Assimilation or Elimination: A Philosophical Debate

The front door burst open under the second kick of his boot, wood splitting beneath his heel with a crack. The other specialists moved forward through the new opening with quick precision. They were anything but quiet, but the rebels inside wouldn’t have time to run now. The hovel they called a house was two rooms, pressed against another building on the back with only two windows to escape, both guarded by their men already.

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