Free Dusk Territories: Always Burning by Deston Munden Page A

monster. But I am only here to protect you and get you back to the Drifter. I didn’t fight a group of cannibals just to find a meal.”
    “Juv, he has a point,” Heron said, waving off the conversation like it was a bother.
    Juvenico pursed his lips. “Fine. But I’m taking those weapons before you let us out.”
    “You’re such a pussy,” Heron muttered under her breath.
    With a swift nod and a swifter laugh, Graham searched for the control mechanism. His keen eyesight spotted a sight of the small wooden wheel and lever. He jogged towards it, looking carefully. Ragnar had somehow made a pull system. The level was attached to a web of ropes, each to a different cage. The wheel was marked and numbered from left to right according to the positions. Graham took a glance towards the cage that hostages were captive in, and back. “Three,” Graham said aloud, grabbing the handle. He cranked the wheel.
    Bit by bit, the third cage sailed across the dark chasm of the cave. The lever and wheel took an immense amount of strength, probably meant for Ragnar himself. Graham was even forced to take a few breaks to make sure he could get them across safely. A few minutes later, the cage made a satisfying clunk as it hovered over a stable piece of land where all the ropes met, the landing area.
    “There’s a switch to your left that will descend us,” Heron noted.
    Juvenico’s arched an eyebrow. “How’d know that?”
    “Watching. Maybe you should try it sometime.” It’ll give you a break from talking.”
    With a flick of an adjacent lever, the cage came crashing down. Heron had enough sense to grab on a bar before it happened. Juvenico, however, had finally let go of bars at the wrong time. He slammed his head against the top of the cage, almost knocking the man unconscious. He stumbled around, holding his head and seeing stars. “Damn…you could have warned me about the fall…”
    “Or you could have watched and prepared yourself,” Heron said as mockingly as her flat voice would allow her.
    Graham laughed at the witty comment before approaching the black barred cage. He observed it. The lock was sturdy, taking wild precautions to insure security. It would take him a while to pick the locks. That was if he could pick a lock. He had many skills in his arsenal, but the ‘art’ of lock picking had never been one of them. He clinched his teeth. “Going to get the key.”
    “Not going to happen. Beastmaster and Ragnar are the only ones that possesses one, but don’t worry about it.” Heron shrugged her shoulders, “Just get us our weapons; Juv’s revolver and my sword. Ragnar usually keeps personal items from his captives—or meals whatever he prefers to call them—in a chest. It’s not locked from what I have seen; no one here would touch anything that’s not meat. It’s near his bed— the large one .”
    “Very observant,” Graham responded, nodding.
    “Yeah, how’d you see that from here?” Juvenico turned to his companion, who sighed.
    Heron gave a low snicker. “If you stopped panicking for the past few hours, maybe you would’ve seen it too.”
    “You don’t have to be a bitch about it,” he whispered.
    I’m amazed they haven’t killed each other yet. Graham thought before saying aloud, “Don’t kill each other before I get back.”
    “Oh, he wouldn’t be able to kill me, hon.”
    There was no rebuttal to her fact, so Graham could only assume that it was true.
    In silence, Graham doubled back to the conclave he had gone to earlier . At the foot of the bed was a long chest; as messily made as the nightstand. It was made of a nicer wood pine or oak, adorned with lungs of a man. Drawing upon his strength, Graham push the top of the chest open revealing a large content of items. More books, penciled drawings, and a thick leather strapped journal sat in one corner alone. The other side, however, was cramped full of things. Guns, belts, grenades—almost everything for anybody looking for