Legacy of the Remembered

7. Back and Forth

When Eske was young, his life changed.

Eight years old and terrified, Eske remained quiet. The room surrounding him was unfamiliar; the walls were grey and lacked windows. A single door taunted him, already proven to be locked. It was thick and made of metal, also bare of any way to see through it. The only light in the room came from two torches, one on each wall. Eske sat, legs crossed, on a tattered mattress. Though his stance showed patience, on the inside Eske was screaming.

Where was he? His blue tunic remained, as did his trousers. Though he was thankful that he had not been forced into anything so uncomfortable, there were still too many questions fumbling around the youth's head.

He remembered visitors from Panjuun. He remembered his father welcoming them. He remembered the proud look his mother sent him when he greeted the strangers appropriately. They were breaking down walls, his father had said. They were heading for change.

And change it was, but Eske had no memory of the ride here. His head swam with glimpses of his room, of commotion in the corridors, of the dead bodies collapsed on the floor.

Of the visitors looming over him with the same peaceful air as before.

There was time missing between then and now. His head hurt from the strain, but he needed to recall anything that could hint at where he was, and why he was there. All he could think about was maroon. The people who took him wore maroon, a color belonging to the royal family of Panjuun. Ehvera had not welcomed any royal figures the other day, but the allegiance was enough.

What was the goal? They were not kidnapping him, right? Panjuun was so far from Ehvera; if someone wanted to take the prince, making it to Panjuun would take over a week. There was so much time for his people to catch up to them. In the amount of time he had been out, as far as Eske could tell, there was no possible way they had already made it to the border.

He was still in Ehvera. He had to believe that.

That was his only lead, though. No matter how many times his eyes roamed the empty room, no matter how often he paced the square floor, nothing jumped out at him. He wished he at least had a blanket. That way, he could lay down and pretend to be home, safe in his room. Though the mattress lacked the comfort he was used to, he was sure he could convince himself it was just rough from playing. This was all just a crude dream.

Eske knew that was a lie. It must have been longer than a day by now, and he never slept that long. His fists clenched into his tunic as he held in the trembling threatening to send him into a panic. Someone would visit him. Someone would explain what was going on. The torches did not light themselves, after all.

But did he want to find out the answers? What if they tortured him? Or killed him? Eske had always been told to stay safe, that people would seek to use him for political gain. He could be a hostage. How long would they keep him? He missed his mother and father. Bohjin would protect him. And sweet, little Ollyah....

Standing up, Eske once again paced the small room. His restless energy did not fade, and he rushed to the only exit available. Eyes wide with fear, he banged on its rough surface with small fists, not even achieving a dent.

"Please! Somebody please let me out!"

His yelling received no reward, sending shivers throughout his body. It was beginning to feel claustrophobic in there. Stepping back, Eske wrapped his hands around his arms in a hug.

Stay strong, he reminded himself. You're the second prince of Ehvera. Someone will come for you. Not even Father would make amends with Panjuun after this.