Every shadow seems to jump out as me as I pass, every crunch of leaves is the step of a guard, every whisper of wind is voices following me. It seems like a lifetime before I reach the entrance to the mine. I glance nervously around, but the regular guards all seem to have gone home for the night. After all, who would be stupid enough to break into the mine at night?

Continues from Eye on The Pen I

I creep along, sticking to the edges of the passage, still not convinced a guard is about to jump out at me. When I see the pen, I quicken my pace. The runners are mostly curled up on the floor, either asleep or with blank looks in their eyes. Andrew’s eyes meet mine and don’t leave as I edge closer to the pen.

“I brought food and water,” I whisper.

“Thank you,” Andrew whispers back, but he is evidently too hungry and thirsty to say anything else. He drains half the water skin with one gulp and starts stuffing bread into his mouth. He seems to stop himself with difficulty and tries to offer some to the other prisoners. They stare blankly at him, uncomprehending when he tries to put bread in their hands.

“What’s wrong with them?” I ask in a hushed voice.

“It’s the eye,” he murmurs, still trying to get his fellow runners to drink something. “It saps the will to live. That’s why no one ever escapes, that’s why the pen isn’t guarded and why we aren’t tied up; no one has the will to get up, let alone leave.”

“Then why are you all normal?”

“I don’t know,” Andrew says. “It’s never affected me like the others. Maybe it’s just an anomaly of the magic. I pretend when the guards are near so that they think I have also lost my will, or they’d surely kill me.”

“Well, the guards aren’t near now,” I say pointedly. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

I hold out my hand, but my heart sinks when I see the expression on Andrew’s face.

“I can’t,” he says in an anguished whisper. “It’s the eye. All the runners know about it – we talk among ourselves. It looks at everyone in the pen. Once it has seen you, it will never forget. The eye can set off alarms in the Masters’ chambers, can tell them exactly where we are at any time.”

I look at the eye in horror. It perches on the edge of the pen, watching the prisoners inside. “But not outside,” I say desperately. “Surely it has no power outside the walls.”

“I doubt it, but I would be caught long before I got that far. But Tracey, you could get out. I know where the guards are placed now, I know how to escape. You – ” Andrew breaks off at the sound of footsteps – probably one of the guards on patrol. “Go,” he hisses. “Come back tomorrow and I’ll tell you how to escape.”

I don’t need telling twice. Bending almost double, I skitter over to the edge of the wall and hide myself in the shadows. As I make my way back to the bunker, I glance back at Andrew. He is watching me, worry on his face.

The next day I am exhausted from my late night excursion, but my mind is buzzing with excitement. There is a way to escape the Masters. Andrew is going to tell me how. Then I’ll go and… My happy thoughts end there. I can’t leave Andrew in the pen to die, especially not now, when he will be the one who tells me how to save myself.

I am so distracted that I start to become careless and end up getting slapped and kicked by the guards a whole lot more than is really necessary. I reprimand myself firmly and try to pay attention; there’s no point to any of this if I get myself killed.

I meet Andrew’s eyes fleetingly throughout the day, but I don’t get a chance to speak to him. I slip him my water skin on the way past and collect it a little later, gently brushing against the side of the pen, keeping my eyes peeled for any of the guards.

As we leave for the day, Andrew gives me a meaningful look. I know what he wants. He wants me to come back tonight and hear how to escape. He then wants me to escape without him. I bite my lip, torn. If I could be free of the Masters… but Andrew’s face keeps popping into my head, like a noose around my waist, keeping me here, unable to leave without him.

I close my eyes, trying to decide what I’m going to do.

Continues... Eye on The Pen III

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To be continued