Chapter 16: Nostalgic Feelings.

Chapter 16: Chapter 16: Nostalgic Feelings.

Perhaps, Khobi mused, as he ran a hand along the uneven stone of his windowsill, if his guards had seen him as more of a prisoner, they’d have been better guards. Outside his door, in the quiet hours of the morning, he could hear Mural snoring, and Montrel cursing him under his breath for it. Proper guards didn’t sleep on duty. Proper guards wouldn’t let their guard drop just because night had fallen.

Just because he’d fallen once didn’t mean he’d fall again.

It was a perfect night, dry and overcast, and with such a soft breeze that it was hard to believe that there had been a storm raging in this very air not a few days ago. Not to mention, it was late –that time of night where even the most vigilant of soldier starts feeling the weight behind his eyelids. And Khobi was feeling a strength slowly returning to his body.

It felt good.

Quietly, Khobi took a grip on the windowsill, and swung a leg over until his searching, bare toes found purchase on an uneven bit of stone.

He let out a soft breath and allowed himself a small smile before his expression hardened back into focus. There was something liberating about that first step beyond the confines of his prison.

He went slow. Last time he’d been too eager –too sure that he could scrabble his way down the wall without trouble. And it was darker tonight. The stars weren’t out; shrouded in low cloud, and the waning moon offered him little light. He had to feel his way; reaching with a single hand to find a stone that jutted out enough for him to take hold –tentatively brushing his foot lower to find one that could take his weight.

But the darkness, like it had been in Briyagi, was not his friend.

A misstep was all it took. Careful as he was, he tread too heavily on a single foothold, and the stone gave way under his weight; cracking and digging shards into his foot, with the rest scattering uselessly to the ground. Khobi cringed at the soft tinkle that sounded when they met the stone ground below him, and bit his lip to keep from hissing when his injured foot scrabbled blindly against a jagged patch of stone –wildly seeking something to keep him steady.

Beyond his room, Mural’s snores stopped.

"Surely not," he heard Montrel deadpan.

"Someone would have to be an idiot to try that climb in pitch darkness," Yaka reminded him, his tone one of disbelief –and for a moment there, as they mulled on that, Khobi thought that maybe he’d caught a lucky break.

Unfortunately, he’d merely read their silence wrong.

"....Fuck."

And just like that, their lethargy was gone, and Khobi knew he was going to have to throw caution to the wind. He was still within arm’s reach of the windowsill –if he didn’t get down, and fast, they’d just be hauling him up by his arms having accomplished nothing but ensuring their renewed vigilance.

So he began to move.

Whatever it was that barricaded his room shut scraped across the floor with a vicious shriek –Montrel groaned and cursed, and the thing squealed some more. Khobi, forgetting his foot already hovering in limbo, started searching wildly for a new handhold.

He cut the heel of his hand this time when he found one, and grit out a curse. It was nothing though a little sting –nothing more. But all of a sudden, with an oozing cut, the stone was slick, and his fingers couldn’t quite get a grip. His weight was shifting dangerously –and his throbbing foot was still scrabbling at the stone in vain.

His other foot was cramping his good hand clinging blindly to the single piece of stone that seemed to be all that stood between him and another disastrous fall from grace.

In an effort to regain his balance, he thrashed out with his bleeding hand, smearing blood along the stone and doing nothing but grazing it raw. Unlike his first climb, the stars weren’t there to show him the way –he couldn’t see the outlines of his next hold or where his body was spread.

On this kind of night, he couldn’t even tell how far it was to the ground.He could, however, see a thin trickle of light from his window somewhere above him –still too close.By some miracle, he found the hold that had cut his hand before, and, ignoring the way it dug into his flesh and burned his nails, clung to it for dear life as he dropped lower.

His injured foot finally found purchase. But it stung, and it stung, and as much as he demanded his foot to take the pain and bear his weight, it buckled and smarted like hell. He cursed –loud –--And that was when he slipped.Someone yelled. Maybe it was him, or maybe it was Montrel calling out his name, but it was all Khobi heard in that instant as panic briefly flashed across his face as and his heart stilled, and he felt completely weightless.

"Khobi!"And suddenly, there was pressure on his injured hand, and he flinched instinctively as if shocked back to life. But it didn’t dissipate. Instead, it grew tighter –firmer –and just like that he didn’t feel all that weightless anymore, and the ground didn’t rush up to meet him.

"Hey!"Khobi hadn’t realised he’d closed his eyes, but when he opened them, he found himself staring up at Montrel’s irritated, panting face, leaning out his window most precariously –his hand wrapped like a vice around Khobi’s own wrist.

A lifeline, holding him suspended in midair."Let me go!" Khobi snapped out of reflex as his feet planted themselves on little outcrops of rock and shook with the strain of taking his weight. Frustration --at his own weakness and carelessness --boiled up under his skin and made him want to struggle, made him want to lash out at the men who were so insistent on keeping him caged.

And for a moment there --a horrifying moment that had his heart almost lurching out his throat --when he almost slipped once more as a result of his own stubbornness, he imagined that hand clutching his wrist loosening --vanishing, and letting him fall. But it was a nightmare that lasted only an instant, because he didn’t fall, the soldier’s grip resolute and holding him steady.

"Are you kidding me?" Montrel gritted out, his eyes flashing in disbelief, and then with a touch of something that Khobi, if he had’ve been more familiar with it, might have recognised as concern, "Come back up kid; are you literally insane??""Do what he says, Montrel," Mural suggested flatly, glancing down through the gloom without much curiosity. "See how much he likes it.

"Khobi was certain that any fear he may have felt when he heard those words didn’t show up in his face, but all the same, Montrel didn’t even let his grip waver for a second. Instead, he leaned out; with Yaka (and Mural, despite what he’d just said) steadying him as best they could, and humbly offered Khobi his other hand.

There was nothing false in the gesture, nothing tricky or taunting. His fingers reached towards him through the darkness, offering him not escape, but safety. Promising that he wouldn’t let him fall.For a second, Khobi thought about not taking it. If he wanted to, he could probably wrench his hand away and take his chances.

It would take only a moment, and he had strength enough for that at least. The man currently teetering out the window would fall, no doubt –to his death, probably, if he did so, and although that sort of thing wasn’t something that had ever lingered on his conscience before...he hesitated....And found himself reaching up to clasp Montrel’s hand.

With a groan of relief, Montrel heaved himself back in through the window, and with a fair amount of cursing and dragging, and with Khobi treading blood all up the castle walls, finally managed to wrench the redhead back into his room. His arms were straining, and he was sweating like midsummer had come early, but his fingers dug firmly into Khobi’s wrists and didn’t let him go until both of his scraped feet were planted firmly back on solid ground.

"Ugh, I’m gonna start stealing your dinners," Yaka grumbled good-naturedly, rolling his aching shoulders and heading for the door again. The elbow jab he gifted Khobi as he passed him by lacked bite. "You’re getting fat."" –Hey, why do you get Khobi’s dinners?" Mural snorted with a nonchalant yawn, following him as Montrel doubled over by the windowsill to catch his breath. Khobi watched them leave with his head cocked and an odd expression on his face, and an even odder feeling in his chest.

It felt weird, but not bad. Strangely, though he’d sulked the whole time at being lugged back through his window like an ungainly sack of potatoes --and reluctantly, at that --somehow, somehow...he didn’t resent them for it. He should. He knew he should.

And while he stood there with a heavy scowl, an unexpected weight on his shoulder suddenly caught him off guard. He started, jerking in surprise and instinctively readying himself for a fight. But it was just Montrel, breathing heavily and regaining his balance and groaning as if he’d carried Khobi for miles as opposed to the short journey up the wall.

"Whew..." he groused, clapping his hand on Khobi’s shoulder again as if relieved that that whole ordeal was finally over. Khobi found himself flinching in surprise at the gesture, and stared at him with suspicion evident in his gaze --ready to sling a punch if any violence was forthcoming. But Montrel merely squeezed his shoulder for a moment and gave him a dry, lopsided smirk as he added, "Nice try, kid. But take it from someone who’s fallen out a lot of these windows. That was gonna hurt."

And that was it. Nothing about the scene seemed bitter, or forced, or resentful –like saving someone’s life (though Khobi was loath to see it that way) was something he did every day. And the strange warmth from his hand lingered even when Montrel yawned and sauntered over to where Mural and Yaka were waiting at the door; righting an overturned chair and table as he went, as though they’d been desperately flung out of his path.

And what’s more, as he left, he flapped a hand back over his shoulder in what Khobi could only feel was a weird kind of companionable farewell.

"Sleep tight. See you next time you try to do something stupid."

Khobi refused to be grateful. He refused to thank them. He didn’t owe them anything and he sure as hell wasn’t gonna show them any damn gratitude after they’d foiled a perfectly opportune escape attempt. They were still his guards and he was still their prisoner.

But he figured that that didn’t mean he couldn’t join in a game of cards every once in a while.

...

Predictably, Binny laughed. Laughed was probably putting it lightly.To put it simply, Binny lost his shit.Head-thrown-back, breathless-with-delight, shaking-with-laughter, lost his shit.

"It’s not that funny," Khobi groused into his food, glaring over at the servant as he wiped tears from his eyes. There was that little sparkle of mirth dancing back there these days, and it had not escaped Khobi’s notice that his cheer seemed to be genuine.

The purple of his collarbone had paled, too. Khobi’s bones were aching a little less too. He hadn’t realised how much beating on a door really took it out of you. "It’s really funny," Binny assured him with a final snicker, "You fell again?? Oh, that’s just too perfect, you know? Ah, that brings back some memories." He tossed his head and chuckled not unfondly, with his eyes misting over with a touch of nostalgia.

Khobi stared at him."What, does everyone here make a habit of falling down walls?" he deadpanned flatly, nudging a thumb in the direction of his door, where he knew Montrel was keeping guard. Binny broke out in laughter again, waving away his insinuation.

"Ah, not so much," he admitted with a small shrug, "But you can’t grow up here and not fall out a window or two –like, when I was a kid, my friends and I –" Here, he cut himself off abruptly, and the fondness in his eyes gave way to a small frown as though he was scolding himself for speaking carelessly. Khobi stared at him for a long moment, cocking his head, and with a sheepish chuckle, he amended himself, finishing with, "...Well, we all liked to try and sneak away from our lessons.

"Khobi’s expression softened at that, those sorts of memories had always seemed so far away, to him –but they were there, in the deep places that Silas could never touch. They were the memories of playing pranks on his teachers, and sneaking out into the summer sun away from lessons, and chasing the other kids of the castle through the streets with their sitters hounding them.

"Oh to be kids, huh?" Binny chuckled, and that nostalgia was back in place. Without even realising, Khobi found himself nodding. " –We always eventually got caught, though," he added with a lopsided grin that told tales of better, simpler times, and a quick, vacant glance that may have been merely out the window, or out to somewhere in a buried past.

"Well...most of us."