Flash Fiction| Prompt Response | Psychopathy
Loyalty
How much is Ancil willing to sacrifice for the safety of his family?
Pain lanced through his right temple, forcing Ancil back to consciousness and the sensation of cold metal pressed against his left cheek. Where was he? The last thing he remembered was releasing the cattle into the paddock, then…
He jerked up, finding both his wrists restrained to the metal table he sat at by magnetic cuffs. He didn’t recognise the ornate dining room he’d woken in, but he did recognise the voice that now addressed him.
“Good morning, young Master Rodec.”
Ancil’s throat instant dried. He couldn’t speak, even though he knew the situation demanded he offer his respects.
Lord High Commander Drykus sauntered past him and continued to the far end of the table, where he took a seat and regarded him in silence for a long, unnerving moment.
“Do you know why you’re here, boy?” he finally asked.
Somehow, Ancil found his voice. “Because my f…father didn’t pay the tithe.”
Drykus nodded. “Your father has disappointed me.”
“I’m sorry for his failure, my Lord. Perhaps I could work off the debt — ”
“I am not in the habit of offering credit to my tenants,” Drykus interrupted, picking up a goblet and swilling the contents around. “The agreement is simple. The tithe is paid in full on the anniversary of tenancy commencing. That was two days ago. And I’m still waiting.”
Ancil stared back into the man’s soulless eyes, the irises so dark it was impossible to discern the pupils. “I’m sorry…”
“So you said,” Drykus sighed with a dismissive wave. “But I have a lifestyle to maintain and an image to keep up. It wouldn’t do for people to think I was amenable to late payments.” He set his goblet down and leaned forward. “I’m not in the business of doing people favours.”
Alcin dropped his gaze. A bowl topped with a golden cover sat in front of him. It briefly reminded him he hadn’t eaten yet today.
“Oh, but where are my manners?” Drykus said, hopping out of his chair and pulling a small device from his pocket. An infrared light flickered in the end he aimed toward Ancil. His right cuff automatically released. ”You must be terribly hungry.” Drykus lifted the cover from the bowl, revealing yogurt, fruit, and seeds. He swept a spoon up from the place setting and held it in front of the boy. “Eat up.”
Though ravenous, Alcin knew better than to obey the instruction. Within the bowl sat ticanthis berries. Just one was enough to kill a full-grown adult. His mother had taught him all about them. “I’m not hungry,” he whispered, as if his voice was now too afraid to leave his throat.
Drykus’ dark eyes drilled into him. “I said eat.”
“The berries…they’re poisonous,” Alcin explained.
A smile faintly twisted up the corners of Drykus’ mouth. He grasped Alcin’s freed wrist and forced the spoon into his grasp. “Eat.”
Trembling, Alcin bit back tears. “Please, my Lord. If you give me a little more time, I’ll make sure our tithe is paid.”
“There are terms. Those terms were broken. If I allow that to go unpunished, it will happen again.” Drykus leaned in close, his right hand fisted on the table to support his weight. “This is your father’s penance for his disobedience.”
Alcin peered down at the berries swimming in acrid pools of their poisonous juice. He couldn’t do it. “It…it’s a sin against the gods to take my own life,” he croaked, appealing to any modicum of mercy his captor might possess. “Please don’t make me do this.”
Drykus looked at him with such contempt Alcin felt certain he would strike him. “It isn’t taking your own life if you give yours up to save another. It’s martyrdom.”
Every atom in Alcin’s body froze as a door to his right slid back and an armoured man entered, steering in his little sister, Fenna. She still wore her nightgown and sobbed silently as he forced her over toward the table.
“Perhaps your sister is hungry?” Drykus suggested, stroking her long, brown hair and making her flinch.
Alcin’s protective urges forced down his fear. The way Drykus touched his sister made him nauseous. “Don’t touch her!”
Drykus looked amused by the boy’s defiance, until he understood the inference. “What kind of a monster do you think I am?” he protested, pulling Fenna in front of him to press a blade to her throat. “Now, eat or your sister dies.”
Fenna squeaked then fell silent, tears streaking her flushed cheeks.
Though only fifteen himself, Alcin’s sense of responsibility for his twelve-year-old sister won out. He devoured the meal, certain he couldn’t live on with his sister’s death on his conscience.
It took only minutes for the poison to affect him. Soon, Alcin’s body seized and spasmed, his airway constricting while his skin burned. He was barely conscious as the armoured man lifted him from his seat to lay him on the floor.
Drykus knelt beside him, a ferocious grin splitting his face. “Poor boy. Does it hurt?”
Ancil’s vision fractured and he closed his eyes, praying for release. A grip on his jaw forced his mouth open and ripped a scream from his lungs as rancid liquid seared a path down his throat. Drykus forced him to swallow and gradually Alcin’s body relaxed, the convulsions fading. His heart rate slowed, his breathing eased. Whatever Drykus had forced into him had saved him. Exhausted, he lay completely. He didn’t dare move.
“You’re a brave boy, young Master Rodec,” Drykus told him, pulling up a chair to get more comfortable. “You offered to work off your family’s debt. And now I know what motivates you, your servitude can commence.”
Alcin closed his eyes. A tear burned its way down his temple to the floor. He had offered that, and he couldn’t back out now. He dreaded what future deeds Drykus had in mind for him in order to settle their agreement.
This story is written in response to JF Danskin’s May prompt, Diving Into the Depths, Idea 9 — Show us an antagonist that’s interestingly twisted.
Thanks for reading!
