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As Zack squirms in the tight grip of the mage smugglers, he has to admit that he has been in better situations.
"Get off of me, I- mrmph!" They shove a piece of fabric in his mouth and tie another piece around. He struggles, fighting fiercely. But they are so much stronger. So much bigger. He kicks and squirms, but it seems to be useless as he is dragged towards a cart.
His eyes widen when he sees the inside of the cart. He sees iron chains attached to every wall. If a mage was in each separate 'spot', they would be crammed together like sardines. He fights even more, throwing himself around and headbutting. He knows that he can't let himself be chained or taken to a separate location.
"Excuse me, gentlemen."
He goes limp, hanging in the smugglers' grip. Not from relief, from fear. He knows that voice. It haunts his nightmares, ringing like the world's worst bell.
"What do you want, then?" One of the smugglers grunts. "This ain't any of your business. We're just collecting some mage scum off of the streets." He shakes Zack, who flops around helplessly. The smugglers all snigger.
It feels like his bones disappeared, leaving him with only flesh and fear. What are they doing here? What do they want?
"I'm aware. It's good work that you're doing, men, I applaud you." Sally twinkles. "But I'm afraid that you've scooped up our little mage, and we would like him back."
"What, this runt?" The smuggler shakes him again. "Ah, you don't want him. An illusionist, and a weak one at that. He won't fetch more than a handful of coins."
"Then I'm sure you won't mind handing him over." Sally says lightly.
The smugglers exchange a look. Zack knows that as a really rather powerful healer, he is 'worth' a lot. Silently, he begs for the smugglers to refuse. Going with them would be a better fate. "It's gon' cost you." The leader says. "And a pretty penny at that."
"Admitting that you lied then? Good. I do prefer honesty." Sally says. Zack flinches. Sally always hated it if he dared a lie, no matter how small. "I can pay."
She hands over a bag of coins. It looks heavy. The smuggler weighs it in his hand. "Not enough. C'mon, let's get him-"
Penelope steps out of the shadows. Zack's eyes widen, seeing her in the mage hunter uniform. He knows that she was a mage hunter once, although he doesn't know why she quit. But he has never seen her in the uniform. "Is there a problem here?"
Zack finds himself thrown at Sally, quite literally. He tumbles into her, and she grabs him tightly. He tries to struggle, but she just presses him against the nearby wall. He knows that he will pay for that soon, as he goes limp and shuts his eyes.
"No ma'am! This criminal was just showing us her pet mage, and we were just saying that he should be burned, right men?" The leader says. The other smugglers chorus an agreement.
"Hm. Quite right. Off with you, now, while I handle her." Penelope says. They don't stop to question her.
Zack stays limp and compliant as he is searched, and his hands bound tightly in rope. He doesn't struggle as they pull him away from the wall and drag him down the street. He closes his eyes, resigned to his fate. Terrified, but resigned.
Sally and Penelope have been hunting them. With Sally's divination magic, they always know where to look. They have avoided them or fought them so far, but now? He is alone. Helpless. Utterly at their mercy, when he knows that they have no mercy to show.
They manhandle him down a side street, and into a small building. Penelope leaves, presumably to stand guard. He is alone with Sally.
She removes the gag and unbinds his hands. He stands like a statue, eyes flicking around for an escape that he is too scared to take. Sally circles him, looking him up and down. He flinches, looking at the ground. "Not good. Not good at all. Your behaviour has been appalling."
He tries to block out her words. He can't stop the torment, but maybe he can stop the words taking root in his mind and choking his delicate new self-worth.
"Wicked. Wicked, wicked little boy." She says, tone light and teasing despite the dark cruelty of her words. "I know all about your crimes. Freeing criminals. Robbing civilians. Killing civilians, and worst of all, killing mage hunters. The backbone of our society. The best of all of us. How shameful. I hope that you're ashamed of yourself."
I'm not. Zack reminds himself, staring blankly into the distance. I'm not ashamed.
"But that's not the worst of it. Your disgusting arcane crimes make me sick. Healing left and right."
You only saw them because of your own arcane crimes. You're a hypocrite. You're not a good person.
"And worse! Somehow, somehow, you still get worse." She is still pacing, examining him from every angle. "This dark magic. Killing dozens of people with your magic, not controlling it, not suppressing it. You are disgusting. You are a wicked little brat, and you deserve the pyre. You deserve to be burnt alive, you deserve a slow, agonisingly painful death."
I don't. I don't.
"And yet, I show mercy. Even though you haven't shown a sliver of shame to earn it." Sally shakes her head, tutting. "So how about you earn it? Kneel down and beg me for mercy."
Zack clenches his fists. His stomach twists. He won't. He won't.
Sally grabs his left hand and forcefully straightens his fingers. Then she does the same to his right. "Naughty, naughty. Stop being so aggressive." She tuts. He notices that her hands are gloved. Of course they are. Otherwise she would burn herself while beating him with an iron poker. His eyes burn with unshed tears. Why can't she just leave him alone?
"I told you to do something, Zack." Sally reminds him. "And what do you do when I tell you to do something?"
"No." Zack whispers.
"What was that?" She pantomimes putting her hand to her ear and leaning closer. "I hate mumbling, Zack, you know that."
"No. I said no." He manages. "I'm not begging."
He shouldn't be surprised by the punch. He cries out as pain explodes across his face. He falls down, clattering onto the hard wooden floor.
Sally crouches next to him. "Whoops, wrong answer! Want to try again?"
"No." Zack grunts, fear shaking him. "You'll hurt me either way."
"Now, that is true." Sally acknowledges. "But I will hurt you more for disobedience."
Zack lies limply on the floor, staring into the distance. He resisted complying, but he can’t see anything to do other than letting her hurt him. Other than resigning himself to pain.
Sally fetches something from a table. Zack expects an iron poker, but what he sees is a similar iron stick with studs on it. That'll hurt even worse, he knows that. He can't bite back his whimper.
But there is also an iron poker, leant against the wall.
And Sally is a mage.
He waits. And waits. And then he sees his opportunity and runs.
Sally turns, confused. She doesn't realise what he is doing until it is too late, until a spare glove covers his hand, and the poker is held out like a sword. "Get back." He warns, his arm shaking.
Sally chortles. "Aw, that's adorable. Baby's first threat." She teases. But she does stop in place, her terrifying looking tool still held in her hand. "Now, Zack, don't be silly. If you put that down and lie down, like a good mage, it won't be so bad. We'll have to keep you here, and we'll have to punish you, but it won't be so bad. And you'll be safe from mage hunters. We'll keep you safe, like we always have."
Zack glares. "You want me to let you keep me locked up, and torture me, because you'll 'keep me safe'? My friends keep me safe. Actually safe. They don't hurt me. They never hurt me." His voice trembles. His voice is too small. But he is speaking. "I'm not gonna let you treat me like that anymore. I don't deserve it, I never did."
"Zack, be smart. I know that you're a smart boy." Sally reasons. Zack hates that even now, as her voice worms into his ears, it half sounds reasonable. It isn't. He knows it isn't. But even now, his childhood's grip on him is firm. "Put that down and come here. I know that those other mages poisoned your mind, but they don't care about you. Not the way that I do."
"They do care about me." He can't stop shaking. His heart is louder than his voice. The bruise on his face throbs. "They taught me that I'm not evil because of how I was born. They taught me that I don't have to let anyone hurt me." He reaches up and touches his face. His hand glows, a warm golden light. When he takes his hand away, the bruise is gone. "Not even you."
He hears the door open and jumps into action. He throws the poker at Sally, a dark feeling of triumph rushing through him when she cries out. He runs past her, sprinting for the door. Penelope tries to grab him, but he shoves past. So she slashes with her sword. Pain bursts into his arm, but he keeps running. Pained tears blur his eyes, but he keeps running. He falls down the steps but scrambles up and keeps running.
He runs and runs, not even seeing where he is going, just chasing an instinct to get away. He staggers and stumbles, arm throbbing. And he collides with someone. A hand grabs his arm, and he kicks and flails, determined to get away. "Zack!"
His eyes fly open. "Milo?"
Milo hugs him tightly. "We thought the smugglers got you, I was so scared.”
"Milo, Penelope's coming. We need to go."
"Oh! Right." Milo puts an arm around him to support him, and they run. Murphy's Law causes several close calls, but they manage to get to their hiding place. Zack collapses into a pile of blankets, closing his eyes. The cut on his arm closes and disappears, leaving behind only a thin burn from the iron.
Milo sits next to him. "Are you alright?"
Zack shakes his head. "I was so scared." He admits, resting his head on Milo's knee and shutting his eyes. "I thought that they really got me this time."
"But you escaped." Milo points out gently, rubbing circles on his back. "You got away."
"I did." Zack concedes weakly. "But I didn't think that I would."
"I know." Milo soothes, still rubbing his back. "But you did."
"Mhm." Zack is exhausted. His body feels floppy and heavy. "What if she finds us?"
"This is a mage safe place. Sheltered from divination magic." Milo says. "I promise that you're safe."
"Ok." Zack is still scared. Still shaking. But he is too tired to question it. So he curls up a little tighter and falls asleep, using Milo as a pillow. Milo is still rubbing his back when he wakes up.