Ryan awoke to the sound of whispering. His head throbbed with a rhythmic beat, his face was wet, and his vision was blurred in a foggy haze. He sat up with a groan, shaking his head to clear his muddled mind. As his sight sharpened, he saw the two elven women kneeling on either side of him. The one with hair resembling the deep caramel hue of polished walnut held a damp cloth to his forehead.

  “You’re awake,” she said. Her voice had a melodic quality that seemed to vibrate in the air, instantly soothing the sharp panging in his head.

  Ryan looked around. High on the stone wall, a small, barred window looked out into a void. The lack of light told him the sun had long since vanished.

  “It is an hour past sunset,” the blonde elf said to sate the curiosity she saw on his face.

  “Why are we in here?” Ryan rasped, his throat dry.

  “She tried stopping these savages from attacking a village by herself,” the blonde said, gesturing to her companion. “And I got caught trying to free her.”

  “I didn't ask you to,” the brunette snapped, though there was no real venom behind it. She turned her gaze back to Ryan. “What about you?”

  Ryan stood, his legs unsteady, and walked to the heavy iron bars of the cell door.

  “No one is here,” the blonde noted.

  “Then why were the two of you whispering?” he asked, testing the strength of the door.

  “We didn't want to wake you. You hit that wall hard. There was a lot of blood.”

  In a soft voice, he said, “Thank you. My name is Ryan... and I was born here.”

  “I’m Trudence,” the blonde said, her tone shifting into something flirtatious that caught him off guard. “But you can call me Tru.”

  “My name is Serenity,” the other added softly.

  Ryan smiled at the name. There was something about the way she spoke; her words didn't just reach his ears—they felt like a physical touch against his mind. “Nice to meet you both. But if the guards are around, call me Yorryn. That’s the name I gave them.”

  “Why?” Tru asked, tilting her head.

  “It’s a long story. If we make it out of this, I’d be more than happy to tell you.”

  He sat back down beside them and began to think. He had been a child the last time he was in these barracks. He and his friends used to sneak in here to steal dried fruits and salted meats stored for the guards. He strained to remember the layout of the room.

  “Has the lord come to see you yet?” he asked.

  “No,” Tru said. “A guard brought bread and water. We saved you some.” She brought the meager meal to him with an exaggerated, playful bow.

  “Thanks.” Ryan chugged down some water and took a bite of the bread, a small, dry laugh escaping him as he chewed. “The last time I got caught in this room, my father gave me a thrashing I’ll never forget.” He looked at them to see if they were paying attention. “I was just a pup then. My friends and I had snuck in through a loose stone in the wall.”

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  “Where was the stone?” Serenity asked, her interest piquing.

  “It was twelve years ago. I can't remember.”

  Serenity moved closer. Before he could react, she placed her cool palms against his temples. Ryan’s face turned red at her touch.

  “What are you doing?” recoiling a bit.

  “Relax. Close your eyes,” she commanded. Her voice was a low, resonant hum. “Think back. Remember the time in the room just before you were caught.”

  A strange, liquid warmth flowed from her hands into his head. The blurry edges of his childhood memories suddenly snapped into clear focus. It was as if he were walking within his own past.

  “I see my friend Jax...” Ryan whispered, his eyes squeezed shut. “He has taken a bite out of an apple. We hear footsteps, but it's too late... It's my father.”

  “What happens next?” Serenity urged.

  “Jax dives through the hole. My father grabs me by the leg as I enter it and pulls me back.”

  “Can you see where the opening is?”

  “Yes.”

  Ryan opened his eyes. The warmth vanished as Serenity withdrew her hands. He stood and walked to a section of the wall near the shadows of the corner. He touched a large stone with the tow of his boot. “It's more than likely been repaired in the last twelve years,” he said, his hope fading.

  “It doesn't hurt to look,” Serenity said, her voice filled with a quiet sense of hope.

  Ryan knelt and tried to move the stone. It shifted. He began wiggling it—back and forth, side to side—until the block rolled out of its spot, leaving a hole just large enough for a dog or a small child to crawl through.

  “That isn’t big enough for any of us,” Tru whispered, her playful demeanor waning into a pout.

  Ryan reached into the secret seam of his trouser leg. His fingers closed around the hilt of the small knife he’d hidden there. “The Creator smiles upon us,” he said with a grin. “They didn't search my trousers.”

  He began pecking at the ancient mud-and-straw mortar surrounding the opening while the others kept watch.

  “Someone’s coming!” Serenity hissed.

  Ryan scrambled back, shoving the stones somewhat into place and sitting in front to hide his progress just as a heavy tread sounded in the hall.

  “I need to make water,” Tru called out, distracting the guard. The man grunted, sliding a small wooden pail through the bars of an adjacent cell.

  “You can’t expect me to do it in front of him,” she said smuggishly.

  The guard let out a crude laugh. “Makes no difference to me.” He chuckled to himself as his footsteps receded away.

  “Do what you must,” Ryan whispered, turning away.

  “No need,” Tru replied. “I just wanted him gone.”

  Ryan pulled the stones free and crawled through the jagged opening. “Wait here.” A few moments later, his face reappeared. “Let's go.”

  They emerged into the cool night air. “What's your plan to get out of here?” Serenity whispered.

  “Follow me.” He led them past the outbuildings, tucking them behind a stone jutty. “Wait here. If you are caught again, scream out as loud as you can.”

  Using the clarity Serenity had given his memory, Ryan navigated the village like a ghost. He knew the stables were tucked against the wall, out of the direct line of sight from the towers. He crept under a hay wagon, waiting for the sentries to turn, then sprinted into the stalls.

  The smell of horseflesh and manure greeted him. He worked with practiced speed, saddling two horses. As he reached for a lead rope, he found his sword leaning against a post. He buckled the belt around his waist, the weight of the steel giving him a surge of confidence.

  He led the horses out and returned to the jutty.

  “Horses?” Serenity whispered, her frustration evident. “The gate is closed, Ryan! How are horses supposed to help?”

  “Just get on,” Ryan said, his voice firm. “Hurry.”

  Serenity rolled her eyes but mounted up. Tru slid onto the back of Ryan’s horse with a coy smile. He led them toward a nondescript section of the western wall.

  He dismounted and lifted the three heavy timber beams from their hidden notches, leaning them quietly against the wall.

  “What are you doing?” Serenity hissed.

  Ryan didn't answer. He climbed back into the saddle and pressed his weight against the wall.

  With a piercing, metallic squeak, the hidden postern gate swung open. “Let's hurry,” he told them, louder than intended, spurring his horse through the gate and into the freedom of the night.

  Ryan heard the beams crash to the ground with a thud as the gate slammed closed behind them, along with the shouts of confusion from within.