Thread: Eyes Dark

"Eyes Dark"
An excerpt from
Love and Sorrow, Fate and Destiny!
Askarat and Asubarta, Guards of the Suzerain

Askarat laid helplessly, his wrists cuffed at the level of his waist. He could only stare at the light-skinned man that hung over him, dangling a knife in his face. "I'm going to stab your pretty little eyes out...one by one..." Bemeere rasped. Askarat said nothing. His eyelids were held open by the small vices; his eyes began to sting and his vision began to blur as they began to dry out. "Now, which eye should I stab out first?" Bemeere asked, with a grin on his face. He watched as Askarat's eyes darted to his right, so as to look at Kijika, who lay equally helpless next to him. Kijika turned his head, a look of absolute grief washing over his face. "Your right eye, then..." Bemeere muttered, directing the knife's glinting point directly over Askarat's right eye.

Time seemed to drag its feet as the steel tip fell closer and closer to Askarat's quivering cornea. He twitched as it made contact, then threw his jaws open and howled as the blade forged its way through the delicate tissues, deep through the retina and even as far as to pierce the choroid. Dark, thick blood pooled in the socket, cascading over Askarat's bottom lid, spilling over the vice and cascading down his cheek. It fell over his jaw and onto his tall collar, where it soaked into the gold fibers, giving the material an eerie orange tinge. Kijika had so desperately wanted to turn away, but he felt that if he did, he would be abandoning his friend and superior. So he choked back his fear and loathing, and stared at the gruesome spectacle.

Askarat took a broken breath intermingled with a gasp as Bemeere slowly lifted the knife out. The pain remained long after the blade was removed. Askarat was in veritable shock, simply trembling; his mouth agape. Blood continued to flow, dripping past his lips into his own mouth. He gagged a little as it seeped into his throat.

Taking only the briefest of pauses, Bemeere once again raised the knife and drove it with even more zeal into Askarat’s left eye. Askarat jerked, and screamed again – this time, almost an outright whine. Bemeere left the knife in for a few seconds longer, watching Askarat’s blood rise around the edges. As he lifted it out, slowly, a red film clung to it. A few more drops were shed onto Askarat’s left cheek, looking almost black against the tan skin.

Kijika lurched into an uncontrollable sobbing fit.

At that moment, Asubarta kicked in the door, looking furious. He saw Bemeere – then caught a closer glimpse of the stained knife in his hand. His heart effectively fluttered, and he dashed to Askarat’s side. His own eyes pooled with tears as he stared at the two red reservoirs where two small inky pools normally rested. Filled with rage, Asubarta pivoted around to Bemeere.

“Let him go…NOW.”

Bemeere watched Asubarta, who watched him closely as he reached in the drawer of his workbench and pulled out the key to the cuffs. He unlocked Askarat’s wrists, from left to right, then his ankles, right to left.

Asubarta slowly and gingerly lifted his fellow guard, his partner on infinite levels, off of the slab and tried to set him on his feet, but Askarat stumbled and fell to his knees. With his head tilted slightly upward, he said in a daze, “I can’t see you…Asubarta…”

“I’m right here…” Asubarta said softly, kneeling and wrapping his arms around Askarat. He let his head fall forward, his chin on his blood-soaked shoulder. Askarat groaned as he did the same, pausing for a moment to feel for his partner. When he had a firm grasp on him, he reached his hands around his back and squeezed him tightly.