Vikter & the Dark Spire

CHAPTER FIVE: THE RESCUE

Gunther was the only one sitting at the huge table one morning and he didn't look very good. Vikter came and sat across from him, piling his plate full of food as he always did.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked without looking up at the old man.

"I think," Gunther said slowly. "I've had enough..."

"What do you mean, old man?" Vikter sneered. He and Gunther didn't talk much. Gunther was too depressing and was always complaining about how the strawberries didn't taste like the "real strawberries" his mother had grown in a garden back wherever he came from. He didn't like the treasures either and was the only man in the place who didn't wear any jewelry. He was boring and depressing and rude.

"Can't take it anymore, kid," Gunther said, shaking his head. His eyes had a faraway look in them and the corners of his lips curved down as he spoke. He looked up, his piercing blue eyes stabbing into Vikter. "I wish I had never come here, kid."

"Sh!" Vikter hissed. "Don't say that! Someone might hear you!"

"I don't care, kid," he said. "It was wrong for me to come here all those years ago. I never should have. I was foolish. Dumb. I thought I was missing out on something, but it turns out, coming here has made me miss out on everything that really mattered. I don't know why I never thought of it before, but I had a wife out there. A wife and two little ones. I can't even remember their names now, but I know I had 'em! They must be grown now, all these years later, and they must think their papa is dead and gone. And he is, too."

Gunther's gaze had drifted to the floor while he spoke, but now he turned back to Vikter again, pointing a spindly finger at him. "You tried to get me to leave this place when you first came here, remember? I should have listened to you, but I didn't! I just cooped myself up in that confounded dungeon, hopeless and sad, wallowing in self-pity, but not willing to admit I was wrong. You gotta keep that bit of you alive, kid!"

"What part?" Vikter asked, wishing he could ignore what the old man was saying. The truth was, however, that his words were awakening something within him—something he hadn't felt in years.

"The part that says that this ain't real!" Gunther exclaimed, gesturing around the room. "The part that makes you wanna fight. The part of you that says you're more than this." Gunther tapped the symbol on his forehead.

As Vikter watched the old man tap his forehead like that, somethin awakened within him. At least, he felt something stir and that was something he hadn't felt for as long as he could remember. Just then a group of other men filed into the room and sat down to eat, and his conversation with Gunther came to an end. The old man's words echoed in his mind, though, and he did his best to remember. To remember what life was like before the Spire. As the table filled, however, Vikter knew it wouldn't be long before Zayne would be down to ask his questions. He hoped Gunther didn't try anything funny.

Just then, one of the men at the other end of the table caught Vikter's attention and he squinted to get a better look at him. He was definitely new. His clothes were clean, his hair short, and the wound on his forehead fresh. Honestly, he almost looked familiar... Or was it just that he wanted him to look familiar?

Zayne entered the dining room, looking more smug than usual. "Good morning, my lads..." he said in the same tone he always used. "The Spire is the home you have chosen for yourselves. You came here willingly. You enjoy its bounties and pleasures. And lucky for you, you will never have to leave. Are there any who wish this was not so?"

Gunther stood, his eyes no longer wild and crazed, but defiant. "I wish this wasn't so!" He cried out. "I wish I had never come to this wretched place. I wish I had stayed with my wife and my family—been the man they needed me to be instead of abandoning them for this filth-hole!"