The Pit - Donja's Commands

      This piece is another installment to my ongoing story The Pit. The first two parts, Potluck and Forbidden were written months ago and are long overdue for a continuation.

Previously from Forbidden:

      Martin had glanced up to see me peeking through the window. I wanted to hide. If I had to be here for four years then I didn't want the Cloak to see me as a snoop. I didn't. I stared back at him and gave a wave and a smile. Donja's first lesson: Don't let them see you rattled.

      He stared for a moment, then chuffed. "If it was going to be so hard on her, why did you fight for her to be a watcher?" He had put his arm around Donja's shoulders and steered him towards the village, and away from my window. "Let's you and I go have a drink."

      Rock's & Kreep's wasn't the only bar in town. Tumney's, by the mill, was the more popular choice with better food and cuter bartenders. However, Tumney's had a strict NO CLOAKS policy. The owners of Rocks & Kreeps weren't as fussy. The Gatehouse guards were welcome to spend their coin, so long as they controlled themselves. Which, minus one incident, hadn't been an issue. Years back, one drunken Cloak had received a lesson in manners from The Kreep himself. Kreep's creative punishment to the unruly guard had been effective enough to encourage nothing but good behavior from his patrons from then on.

      By a window in the corner, Martin turned his chair around, straddling his legs across while signaling to a waitress. Donja, his back to a wall, waited patiently through the order as he idly drew patterns on the table with his finger. Martin paused a moment as the waitress walked away, then asked, "Why her?"

      Donja smiled, lacing his fingers together and resting his chin upon them, "She passed the test."

      Pointing a finger at the old man, the seasoned Cloak replied, "So did two others. She's your precious charge. The whole village is wondering why you allowed her to be locked up inside."

      Ignoring Martin's demand for his reasons, Donja pulled a photo from his pocket. He laid it face down on the table, looking the guard in the eye while asking, "Does she remind you of anyone?"

      The Cloak kept his frustration calm. This wasn't the first time a council elder had used avoidance. "No. Should she?"

      Long fingers gripped the photo and turned it over. The paper held an image of a young girl on a swing, clutching a stuffed rabbit under one arm. Donja's eyes locked with Martin's pained ones, waiting for the inevitable response.

      He didn't have to wait long. The infuriated Cloak rocked to his feet, snarling "Bastard! How dare you take that...", his words cut off as an invisible grip tightened around his throat! Icy realization swept away his strength and he sunk, defeated back into his chair. The other patrons, who'd been ready to call for Kreep to handle the ruckus, returned to their own conversations, sending occasional sidelong glances over to the two.

      "Look again, golem," commanded the Elder. "Are you sure that she doesn't remind you of your lost little girl?"

      Obeying, Martin again looked to the photo. His hand wavered above it before tracing the side of the face of his daughter, long dead and buried. Donja's ward looked nothing like his sweet, beloved Ronsa. Nothing! As he stared, the face of his daughter on the photo changed, blurring into that of the girl trapped now within the Gatehouse! "Oh, God!" Martin breathed, the stranglehold on his throat gone.

      Donja, fingers still tracing patterns, nodded. "I thought you would remember."

      Disgust and fury radiated from the Cloak. "Damned Flesheater! Does your appetite for power know no limits?!" Martin's fist slammed on the table, drawing the full attention of the room once again. "Where are they?" He shouted. "Where did you hide our bones?"

      "You want them back?" Donja leaned forward, unafraid of the retribution promised in the eyes of his new puppet. "I'll give them to you. In four years, when she leaves the Gatehouse, you can have them back." He laughed, then added, "You can have my head as well, provided she walks out of there in one piece."

      Spying the waitress making her hesitant return, Donja stood to leave. With his voice full of power he gave one final command. "Tell no one who owns you now, golem. Not your fellow guards and not the council. You belong to me."

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