“My precious. Where is my precious?” The creature crawling along the floor whispered to itself.
Nameless gave it a brief glance, sizing it up in a moment as a non-threat. Between how thin it was, its posture screamed more loudly than words the creature was not a fighter. The fact that it did not have a collar around its neck, however gave him pause when it turned to glare at him and hold out its hand.
“Give me my precious. I know you have it.” it hissed at him.
Caught with his head up, and his eyes roaming when he wasn’t in the Sands or the cells, he cringed inside expecting to feel the searing lash of his master’s whip. He flicked his eyes at the dark robes ahead of him, and hurried to resume his proper place a long pace behind his master’s left shoulder. The creature behind him hissed in vexation, and scuttled after him.
Torn between the need to obey his master, and his instinctive reaction to someone approaching him aggressively, his feet started pattering out his signature dance steps there on the hard stone floor. The break from his normal silent steps finally attracted his master’s attention, and Gartal turned to see what was going on.
“Gives me my precious!” the creature demanded, the gravely voice hissing against the stone walls with a sound similar to when the walls crawled with Her littlest Children. Though his master has stopped, the boy child did not stop dancing. He remained in place, pattering out his readiness to kill.
“Imp! I though you had been banished from this Arena! Get away from him!” Gartal growled, stepping towards the creature, his hand raised in preparation to strike.
“They took my precious. Give me my precious and I leave. You have my precious!” The imp pointed at the child, and Gartal looked at the slowly quieting fighter.
“What do you want, imp? If it will get you out of here, without having to soil my hands on your filthy hide, just take it!” Gartal groused, turning his back on the pair, and looking up to the ceiling where several crystals had shifted colors. “Make it quick, or I may let the Silk warm up by killing you. Would do you both some good.”
The imp charged forward, his hand outstretched to snatch free the child’s red loincloth. His charge was met with an explosion of activity. The child caught his hand before it could close on the cloth. Thumbs locked together, the child wrenched the imps arm into an unnatural angle, forcing it to produce a wet crack as it bent. His feet pattered across the stone floor as his momentum built into a devastating that was never delivered. Gartal heard the crack and the sudden tempo of dancing feet in time to whirl, “Silk! Stop!”
The child briefly halted where he stood, then toppled over as his inertia forced his body to continue in the direction it had last been traveling. As he toppled to the floor, the imp jerked his loincloth free and wrapped it around his head. Then, with a hissing cackle, it scuttled down the corridor into one of the more dimly lit areas.
Neither the child nor his master heard the unhealthy wheezing abruptly stop when it vanished because Gartal had already begun flogging the child for acting without orders. Once more the Silk whip drove home the imperative that shaped the boy’s life: Obey exactly and immediately.
The above piece of flash fiction could easily fit into the early life of Nameless the main character in K. Caffee’s Followers of Torments Saga. If you are interested, you can find her work on Smashwords or Amazon through the following links: