Spirit Tether

The child endured days and days of torment and beatings, with the only break to catch his breath being mercy.

Time was linear throughout these days. He was given the least amount of food and the least amount of water.

The boy was relieved of his torment when a guy with brown hair, black marble-like eyes, and crimson armor approached him smiling and inquired in the child's native tongue:

(I must say that I am impressed, kid; your skills and tactics were so remarkable that my guys were astounded at how old you had to be to demonstrate such expertise. I was sent here for answers; you will ask where your army is, who you are, where you learned your style, and if you are an assassin.)

The youngster was tied to the ground with chains around his hands and feet, his head fell low as blood and saliva poured from his mouth, and his breathing was shallow and weak. After hearing the guy speak his language clearly, the youngster slowly raised his head, his lips dry and cracked. What he uttered startled the other men in the room, including the man in the red armor:

"I am just a boy," he said in their tongue.

It astonished one of the torturers when he approached the youngster and threw a punch at his stomach region, causing the boy to almost vomit a mouthful of spit. The torturer then asked, slightly annoyed:

{How do you know our language, and are you a spy?}

{Answer the question, boy; it appears that questioning you is not helping unless I get my hands dirty} stated the man in red armor.

The child paused to regain his breath and gestured for one of the men to approach him, his voice scratchy as he whispered:

{I am not a spy. I have not been one. I, as an orphan, was forced to learn your language owing to circumstances beyond your fat suckling finger licking pig of a king's control.}

The room was hushed as the torturer prepared to reprimand the child, he continued with a condescending expression on his face in his native language.

"I guess you wouldn't be needed as a translator. I said my peace, can I go back to the torture now? It still remains me, I am human..." Not for long, anyhow.

The man in red armor had no expression on his face as he gazed down at the child and turned to go.

He shut the door to the basement he was in and climbed the stairs. He heard the door open, and the torturer who punched the child was climbing after him, asking:

"Lieutenant Ciel sir, may I ask?" He spoke rapidly, sweat dripping down his cheeks.

"Please hurry; I have a meeting to attend. "Come, we'll talk on the way," he remarked as he walked briskly up the stairs.

"Sir, we've been at it for nearly nine days now, and he still won't talk. We used every means suggested and known by our empire sir; the youngster is quite talented and hardy enough to handle leashes to the back repeatedly while being burned and cut. "He survived them all."

Ciel chuckled as he saw the door open by a huge guy wearing a chain around his neck, who bowed and moved out of the way for the Lieutenant as he walked past the man, the Torturer following him. Ciel added:

"It could be a waste of time to ask a child who doesn't know anything"

The torturer frowned and was ready to speak when Ciel added:

"It would be pointless if he didn't know anything..." But the youngster spoke Arish. Our mother tongue is perfectly clear. Thus, he might have been a prince of a nation we overran and destroyed, or someone might have taught him for the purpose of infiltration or simply as a form of home education. Perhaps he adapted and learned our language in just a week before we landed"

"Could be, sir, but that is impossible," the torturer and Ciel continued to say as they proceeded down the corridor of a grand edifice gleaming with the sun and the color of a gold-like yellow room.

Ciel paused, turned toward the torturer, and added with a smile:

"You know what? Let's forget about this endeavor; you and your men are needed somewhere with your specific skill set. It had slipped my mind that our superior wanted me to order you to clear your schedules."

"My men are needed for what exactly?"

Ciel continued:

"Your soldiers are going to the western outpost far south of the shore to loosen the tongues of some so-called Witchdoctors who have information about the kingdoms in the north. Your task is to ask about their troop numbers and weaponry." Ciel then presented a scroll with a symbol on the binding, adding:

"New orders and if you would excuse me, I must tell our superior that I am not a messenger and to find another route and method to get your letters"

"Why are you mad about" inquire the tormentor. "Didn't you do this during the capital for Lieutenant Cornelius when you were a sergeant"

"Yes, Yosef, I did that." Nonetheless, it does not mean I have to do it again here during conquest and war," Ciel replied, bidding his friend farewell and leaving Yosef to head off while he removed the binder and unrolled the scroll to read it.

After about a minute, he returned to the basement, where one of his guys was busily beating up the child as sweat fell down the solid ground.

Yosef spoke with authority in his voice:

"Gentlemen, we orders from headquarters"

"What's it say, sir?" inquired one of the men.

"The fight is advancing far north, and our orders are to go west far south to one of the coastal outposts and question some f*cking doctors about the kingdoms to the north. We are departing at first light, and we have been given certain horses to ride.

"Understood sir, but what of the boy?"

Yosef moved closer to the boy's face, lifting his hung head to stare at him with a crocket smile and adding:

"He will need to be healed because he is deemed useless in the invasion of the northern kingdoms." I was about to recommend killing the kid, but I don't need that in my current consciousness," Yosef considered for a second before letting go of the boy and saying with vigor:

"We take him to the docks with us and sell him as a war prisoner or young slave. "Any price that will get us some money for our little indecent misadventure, boy?"

YES, they responded in unison, Yosef chuckled slightly and murmured in hushed tones that his man could not hear:

"You hear that kid; guess you're safe for now. But I hope we meet again in the capital and resume our interrupted enjoyment."

The child then thought, as his thoughts sank into sleep:

(Good luck, and I tell you that there will not be a future time)

Suddenly, a voice echoed in his mind:

"Shouldn't you be giving me exile for a couple of minutes to save your broken arse from this Nimrods?"

The toddler giggled slightly and stated confidently:

"Teacher's homeland is within reach, Tokoloshe. We can't show ourselves when we're this close to it. You will be given exile when I say so; remember, you are still linked to my spirit and body.

The voice responded:

"Yet you have not established the contract with me, to grant a right to order me around"

"But my tether remains an established border of control unless I give up control of my body, which I refuse to do. You are to do what I say at the moment"

The speaker remained quiet for a moment as a giggle rang out:

"Oh, well, suit yourself, nimrod; I will be watching and waiting like the beast I am. But remember, your connection to me is still new; I may break it soon whenever I feel like it, and then the fun will begin."

Like while he was murdering the soldier with an arrowhead to the neck, the child falls asleep again.