Five Years Before

Chapter 1: Five Years Before

 

 “Nine, come with me.”

 Nine was what they called him, for the boy had no name. Nine stood up, he did as he was told and followed the priest standing just outside his cage. The priest opened the cage door and allowed the boy to step onto the cold stone flooring. They walked down a tunnel lined with torches and holes leading to other cages; it is from these the screams and heavy breathing could be heard. The screams would keep Nine up throughout the night.

 Nine didn’t look around though; instead, he faced forward as he always did. He didn’t have emotions at this point; his eyes were empty, void of the fear he should be feeling at this point. Every now and then, a torch would flash over Nine’s body and face. His body was covered with symbols and markings scarred into his skin and inked. His torso was thin but not malnourished; he was given the necessary amount of nourishment but no more or no less, indulgence was a sin. He was of narrow build, slim shoulders and waist though he was defined for his age. He wore a dirtied rag around his waist, simply to hide his genitals. His face was expressionless, emotionless. His hair was long, wild and greasy with tufts ripped out of his scalp.

 Nine followed his red robed superior without question, a white scarf swayed back and forth as he led the boy down the passageway. The priest’s name was Huum. His hair was white and thinning, and stood in stark contrast to his lightly tanned skin made him look darker in the torch light, which is to say, how Nine always saw him.

 “We’re here,” Huum spoke softly before shouting into the darkness, “Nine” �" “Thirteen.”

 Huum held open the iron cage door, and Nine went inside.

 “However long it takes boys.” And with that, Huum left Nine in the cage, but not alone.

 The torch light lit little of the cage in which Thirteen lived. Though there were differences between the cages, each one held similarities just as the next. Iron bars stacked vertically and horizontally to form a door, the cage however, was simply a cave. This was the difference, how deep or shallow the cave was, how wide or narrow, high or low, was something needed to be found out by the visitor. Everything from this point on was guessed by Nine. Thirteen, however, knew his home; he knew the layout. This was his advantage, and he was somewhere in there, silent and deadly.

  Nine moved slowly to his right with his eyes wide; he scraped his fingertips against the rough surface of the cave’s wall. He crouched down lower and lower with every step he took, until he was resting on his toes; he leant against the wall. What little light the torches gave off lit the mouth of the cave which was to Nine’s left, which meant most of his concentration could be devoted to his right and ahead.

 Hours went by of Nine sitting in the darkness and in silence. Every now and then, Huum or another priest would walk up to the door and peer into the darkness before leaving the two numbers alone again.

 Nine didn’t sleep that night, nor did he ever in these situations. He couldn’t.

 

 

 The darkness was eerie, the silence worse. Thirteen either hadn’t moved, or he had glided along the hard rocky ground. Then there was a noise, somewhere amongst the shadows, a shuffle. Nine’s ears pricked and his head jerked. Instantly he was crouched down further than before, eyes wide and alert with his hands on the ground. His body, lined muscle and sinew, was poised ready to pounce.

 Once again silence surrounded Nine, only broken by the young boy’s heart pounding in his ears. Nine’s curiosity took him; it grasped him by the throat and tugged him towards the darkness. He took a step forward, only a hand’s breadth but it was enough. A boy no larger than Nine himself fell from the darkness above him. Thirteen landed on Nine’s back and gripped him tight around his throat; with his legs wrapped around Nine’s middle, he began to choke the life out of him.

 Nine struggled for breath, his voice failed him as he called out but no one would come even if he could. He clawed at his opponents face, scratching away at the skin as well as firing wild punches and slaps. Finally he felt a weakness, Thirteen’s grip loosened slightly just as Nine had punched his eye socket. Nine took his chance. He pulled at the choking grip of Thirteen, just enough to clamp the forearm into his jaw. He bit through the flesh and muscle, blood instantly filled his mouth as his teeth, sharp from mostly eating meat all his life, tore through Thirteen’s arm. There was a scream of pain from Thirteen. Nine backed into the wall, slamming Thirteen against the rough surface. He grabbed a fistful of his hair and, with flesh still in his mouth, flung Thirteen over his shoulder.

 The boys were sizing each other up now, able to vaguely see each other in the dim torch light. They both were on all fours, swaying back and forth, hissing and growling wildly at each other in attempt to intimidate. Nine could see Thirteen moving his right arm gingerly, with blood painting anything beyond his forearm a deep red. The boy facing Nine was not particularly big, body built like his own, lean and agile, a small frame packed with as much muscle as possible. His sandy, dirty, greasy hair fell over his shoulders.

 Thirteen moved first, spraying rocks and debris behind him and he surged towards Nine. Nine had grabbed a fistful of rocks; he threw them into the face of his attacker. Thirteen stumbled and fell, and Nine was on him quicker than lightning. He grabbed the boy’s hair and began to smash his face into the rocks. Again and again he did this, each time Thirteen’s face became more and more pulverised. By the time Nine had delivered his last blow, it was like pushing your hands through a smashed pumpkin.

 Nine sat back. He nursed his throat before crawling over the iron bars of the cage door. There he sat, and waited for Huum or another priest to find him.