Mikhail

The master’s whip snapped him back to reality. He'd been staring into nothingness, letting the monotone clanking of pickaxes breaking rock drift him away into his own world, and the shiftmaster took offense to that. He didn't even process what the man shouted, but quickly resumed hacking away at the rocks again robotically. It wasn't as if the master would have anything else to say to a slave but insults and commands.

They'd killed another child last night. When he heard, he raced to Nebo's bed to check on him, and saw to his relief that the boy was sleeping soundly. He appreciated the food he brought sometimes, but it worried him to no end that he'd end up getting caught.

Mikhail had resigned himself to slaving away in the mines, but he still held hope for Nebo to somehow find a way out. If the empire killed the boy, he would slaughter a few masters before jumping into the depths to his doom. Nebo was the only thing keeping him alive, and he knew that.

Mikhail noticed an Acuamori working next to him. The man had long, straight auburn hair. There weren't many men whose physiques were larger than Mikhail’s, but this man stood taller than him by at least half a head and was surprisingly burly.

Mikhail found the Acuamorii a strange people, they tended to huddle around a fire before going to their quarters and spoke to each other in their own language. Sometimes, it felt like they sang their words. Mikhail was curious about them, as all he'd ever known were other humans.

The horns blew their guttural sound. All the slaves dropped their pickaxes, and lined up for a headcount. The “greenling” –that’s what the Dunmori often called them– stood proud next to Mikhail, not bothering to clear the hair from his eyes.

“Hey,” Mikhail whispered, his eyes fixed forwards. “What's your name, Acuamori?”

The Acuamori remained silent, but shook his head in a way that was barely noticeable as if to say ‘not now.’

Mikhail huffed, but decided not to push him for now.

Two masters walked past the line of slaves, one counting heads and the other scribbling down how many his colleague counted. They did this twice every day, once at the beginning of the shift and once at the end. This was to keep track of the casualties and potential escapees, though Mikhail hadn't yet seen or heard of anyone ever escaping.

After the count was done, another horn blew, and the slaves were guided to the mess hall to get their fill of daily slop. The Acuamori hurried past Mikhail.

Must be hungry.

Mikhail caught up with him and tapped his shoulder. The Acuamori stopped and turned around.

“I'm Mikhail, what's your name, big guy?”

The Acuamori rolled his eyes and held up two fingers in front of Mikhail's face.

"Two?” Mikhail cocked his head. “What do you mean? Speak up man.”

The big man sighed and shook his head. He opened his mouth and pointed at it.

“I know you're hungry but i’m ask-” Mikhail cut himself off. He didn't have a tongue. “Oh, my apologies.”

The Acuamori shrugged and smirked. He pointed at himself, held up two fingers again, and changed them to ten fingers.

“Two, ten, twenty?”

The tall, pointy eared greenling nodded, and Mikhail thought he saw a twinkle of mischief in the man's eyes.

“Your name is Twenty? Why?”

Twenty shrugged again and grinned at Mikhail before turning around and resuming his mission to get food.

I wonder what eating’s like without a tongue?

He followed Twenty inside and wondered where this sudden interest in another came from, hadn't he decided to keep to himself? Maybe he was just bored of the daily routine and wanted a change.

When Mikhail got his food --indistinguishable brown goo with a side of disgusting– he sat next to Twenty. Nebo's shift would take a bit longer still, he had to help do the dishes after the slaves were fed.

“So, uh…” Mikhail began. “Sorry for losing my patience a bit, I didn't realize, you know-” Mikhail pointed at his tongue while looking at his bowl. “That.”

Twenty waved his hand lazily as if to dismiss it, and eagerly slurped his goo.

“I’ve picked the best person to have a conversation with in this whole damned mine haven't I?” Mikhail leaned back in his chair, sighed and stared up at the rocky ceiling.

Another slave sat down on Mikhail's other side. “You sure have!" The man had a jolly, round face, and looked suspiciously healthy for a slave. “Twenty here isn't the talkative sort, at least, he isn't now.”

“Do I know you?” Mikhail said, as he kept his gaze pointed upwards. His interest in the Acuamori didn't extend to other slaves, and he wasn't sure if he wanted this man as an acquaintance.

The man feigned shock. “Well you're a regular ray of sunshine aren't you?” The man waited for a response, but when he didn't get any he just continued talking. “Frehar’s my name, and I'll have you know that I was known far and wide as one of the best damned Skloras in all the four realms of Yoradia.” He bowed dramatically.

“The hell’s a Sklora?”

Frehar squinted. “I didn't quite catch your name?”

“Correct.”

Mikhail heard Twenty snort.

“You're quite rude, aren't you? And how do you not know what a Sklora is?”

“Fine, you pest." He turned to Frehar. “I’m Mikhail, happy?”

“Not very, I’m a slave.”

“I thought you were a Sklora?”

Frehar smirked. “So you're capable of some wit after all.”

The talkative man was getting on Mikhail's nerves. “Are you going to tell me what a Sklora is or not?” He looked Frehar in the eyes. “If not, fuck off.”

Frehar didn't show any sign of being intimidated. He looked amused, if anything.

“Alright, alright, keep your tunic on.” He took a bite of his food, and his face turned sour. “Gods, the filth they feed us.”

“Will you get to the damned point.”

Frehar swallowed his food with a pained look on his face. “So,” he said. “A Sklora is essentially a poet, and-”

“Should've guessed.”

Frehar raised an eyebrow. “And we’re trained since birth in the way of words and-” he made a slashing motion with both arms. “Swords. We go around the world spreading tales of the things that are happening wherever we pass by, it's been a tradition of our people to have one Sklora per tribe.”

“Your people?” Mikhail asked.

If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

Frehar nodded. “I’m from the mountains to the far north, my kind are called the Séohal. Though we're technically part of the Empire, our customs are more alike to the Northern Barbarian Union.”

“Are all your people as talkative as you, then?”

“No, we're generally quite reclusive to outsiders. The Sklora are trained because of that reason actually, we go home once in a while to tell our people about what's going on outside the mountains.”

Mikhail chuckled. “So you're a glorified town crier?”

Frehar sighed. “You're impossible to talk to, aren't you?”

“Not if I like you.”

Frehar shrugged and took another bite. “So anyway, I ended up here a few weeks ago because I spread some news somewhere that I shouldn't have. Before I knew it, soldiers had surrounded the inn I was staying in and well, the rest is history.”

“I don't remember asking.”

“I don't remember caring if you ask.”

Mikhail closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Could I eat my food now without worrying about you chattering in my ear?”

“Worry is for uncertainty my good man, but you can be certain I’ll keep talking so it's best to just accept it.” He slapped Mikhail's shoulder, causing him to spill his food. Twenty chuckled again.

Frehar chattered away for the rest of the meal, and Mikhail practiced his breathing for the first time in a long while.

Nebo

He’d been distracted a lot these past few days. After finding out that his nighttime bouts of thievery had cost an innocent child's life, he hadn't gone out to steal anymore. Not sure of what to do to alleviate his guilt, he'd tried to get through the days without thinking about it too much, but sadly failed most of the time.

One of his friends from the kitchen, Elka, had asked him if he was alright and he'd lied that he had a persistent stomach ache. Apparently, he wasn't as good at masking his feelings as Mikhail was.

He tried not to think about his problem while washing the dishes, and visibly jumped when Elka nudged his ribs as she passed him.

“Damn it, Elka!” He said.

“You still awake, friend?” Elka said, grinning. She was a few years older than him, a skinny girl with raven black hair. She'd shown him the ropes when he was forced to work in the kitchen, and had kept him out of trouble more times than he could count.

“Yeah, yeah.” He said, trying to hide his annoyance.

“You don't seem like it, you've been scrubbing that bowl for around half an hour now.”

“Wha- half an hour?” His eyes widened.

She looked at him concerned. “I'm joking, you fool, but the fact that you believed me says a lot. You want to go mess with the silk bats together after we're done?”

“I don't know, Elka, I'm not feeling too great and-”

“I know, that's why I'm asking you to come with me so you can get your mind off things. And don't give me that stomach ache nonsense, I know you're lying.” She punched him in the arm.

Nebo smiled apologetically. “Okay, fine. Let me finish this and we can go, just please don't make me talk about it too much, I’d like a distraction more than a heart to heart right now.”

“Sure thing, shorty.” She ruffled his hair.

“I'm taller than you, and please stop doing that.” He moved her hand.

“You might be taller now, but you'll always be a shorty to me. See you in a bit.” She shot him a sly grin as she walked off, but she didn't look where she was going and tripped over a pan, nearly falling flat on her face.

Nebo snorted as she stormed off with a face like a tomato. Grinning and shaking his head, he continued washing the last of the dishes.

When he was done, he scarfed down his food and hurried to the silk bat habitat. They were funny little critters and surprisingly intelligent, but harmless. Elka and he liked going there to see them play fighting, and sometimes joined in. When they did, the silk bats squealed and flew around their heads, nibbling their ears and sometimes hitting them with their wings. One of them had taken a particular liking to Elka, and she'd named it Pelas.

He saw Elka sitting on one of the boulders overlooking the cave where the bats resided, and Pelas was already resting on her shoulder as she scratched the creature behind its big ears.

Pelas heard Nebo approach first and quickly flew towards him, stopping just in time so he didn't crash into his chest.

“Hello Pelas, how are you?” He said.

The bat squeaked a curt, but affectionate response and flew back to Elka’s shoulder. Elka waved at him and smiled.

She patted the flat surface next to her, and Nebo sat down to look at the silk bats. There were hundreds of them fluttering around the cave, darting from here to there in their excitement.

Nebo grinned. “Quite an exit you made, just now, very graceful.”

She glared at him and blushed. “Oh, shut up.”

“So, have you and Pelas found a way out of here yet?”

“I'm sure Pelas has, but I'm afraid I don't speak silk bat.”

“You could have fooled me, the way he hangs around you.”

“Oh please, he's just stricken by my dashing good looks.” She said, flipping her hair. “If it weren't for the fact that he's a bat and I'm a Dunmori, he would have proposed already.”

Nebo laughed. Somehow, Elka had a talent for making him forget about his problems when they talked. He hadn't laughed in days.

Pelas nestled his head in Elka's neck, and she scratched his head.

“Listen Nebo, I know you don't want to talk about it, and I won't force you, but you know I'll always be here if you need it, right?” She put her hand on his shoulder, rubbing it with her thumb. It felt nice.

Nebo sighed and patted her hand. “I know, Ellie.” He looked at two silk bats rolling around in the dirt, when one of them smacked the other in the head surprisingly hard and made his friend shriek dramatically as if he'd been dealt a mortal blow. “I promise I'll be fine in a few days, just let me work it out by myself for now. Thank you for this, though, I appreciate it.”

“Alright, dummy.” She patted his shoulder, and rested her hand on her leg. “So, you want to bet on which one of those winged warriors will win in the end or do you want to join in the fight?”

Nebo considered it for a moment. “How about joining in, one of the fighters seems to be in trouble, and I bet if we get involved that the rest will attack.”

Elka faked a bow. “As always, your eternal wisdom baffles me, m’lord.” She looked at Pelas. “I'll be sending the cavalry ahead, if it so pleases thee.”

Nebo nodded haughtily. “It pleases me.”

Elka whistled, and pointed at the two fighting silk bats. Pelas didn't hesitate and swooped in to smash into the one that was gloating over its victory.

“Huzzah, m'lord." She raised her fist in celebration. “The charge was successful, shall we join?”

Nebo nodded again. “Let us charge!”

The two got up and ran towards the fighting animals, shouting a war cry for eternal glory.

Mikhail

He’d noticed the boy growing sullen these last few weeks. The spark he'd always seen in his eyes was growing dim, and it worried him.

He had no idea, however, how he was going to get him to tell what was going on. He never learned how. His father had beaten it out of him –that is, if he showed interest at all– and he somehow felt that might not be the way to go about this. Still, he felt he should try something, anything.

After finishing his shift and dinner, he decided he'd wait for Nebo to come out of the kitchen so they could talk.

Before that, Frehar and Twenty came to talk. Well, one of them did.

“Hullo there my second largest friend!” Frehar said. Twenty just nodded.

Mikhail rolled his eyes at him. The three men had often eaten together after they'd finished their shifts, and Mikhail had come to begrudgingly accept Frehar's company. “Bad time Frehar, I'm not in the mood.”

Frehar slapped him on the shoulder and laughed. “When are you ever?”

“No, today I'm really not.” He turned away from them. “I'm waiting for someone, please leave me alone.”

Frehar rubbed his chin and squinted at Mikhail. “A woman? You?” Frehar quickly reconsidered after Mikhail shot him a glare that could kill. “Alright, I won't pester you today, anything either of us could help with?”

Mikhail shook his head. “No, this isn't-”

“Oh hey Mika, what are you still doing here?” Nebo had already arrived. “Who are these guys?”

Mikhail sighed. “Hello, lad. Introduce yourself, this is Twenty,” he said, gesturing to the huge Acuamori. “And this is-”

“Frehar Solengard the magnificent, young sir.” He bowed dramatically and grinned at Nebo. “At your service.”

Nebo smiled and imitated the bow. “Nebo the illustrious, I’m sure you've heard of me.” He turned to Twenty and shook his hand. “Hello, I'm Nebo.”

Frehar’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “This fellow’s a lot more courteous than you are, my large, sullen friend.” He said, glancing at Mikhail.

Mikhail groaned. “Now that introductions have been made, could you leave us alone for a while?”

Frehar tried to protest, but Twenty pulled him away and nodded at Mikhail. He waved a goodbye to Nebo.

Mikhail nodded back, grateful for the giant Acuamori’s tact.

He turned to Nebo. “Can I speak to you for a minute, lad?”

Nebo looked at him, puzzled. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, no, nothing like that. Come, walk with me.” He gently put a hand on Nebo's upper back and started walking. “Are you okay, lad?”

“Sure, why do you ask?” Nebo looked up at him.

“I've noticed you haven't really been your cheery self lately. Now, I might be a bit of a fool sometimes, but I've known you long enough to sense when something's wrong.”

Nebo stayed silent.

“I uh…” Mikhail hesitated and cleared his throat, not sure how to proceed. “Could you tell me? I'm worried.”

Nebo fidgeted with his tunic. He'd always done this if he was nervous. “I’m… There's something I've done, or rather, something happened because of something I've done.”

Mikhail frowned. “I see, go on.”

Nebo swallowed, then said nothing and looked at his feet.

“Come on lad, I won't be angry, I can't stand seeing you like this.” He sat down and motioned for Nebo to do the same.

“I’m sorry, I want to say it but it's like the words are stuck in my throat, and I can't get them out.” Tears welled up in Nebo's eyes. He may have grown a lot, but he was still a child after all.

Mikhail nodded. “I understand, but I can't help you if you don't tell me. All we have here is each other, you know that right?”

Nebo nodded and wiped his tears. “I know, but I can handle it Mika, don't worry.” He forced a smile. “I can be strong too, I'm not a little boy anymore.”

Mikhail's expression softened. “Alright, lad.” He gently thumped his huge fist on Nebo's chest. “I won’t force you, but if it becomes too much to bear, I want you to tell me.”

Nebo nodded. “I will, Promise.”

Mikhail ruffled his hair and began walking off, but got startled when Nebo hugged him.

“Thank you, Mika, I feel a little better.”

Mikhail stood frozen for a second, but then hugged the boy awkwardly, patting his back. “That's alright, you run off and play now with that lady friend of yours.”

He turned around and quickly walked towards the sleeping quarters, careful to hide the smile on his face. He didn't know what was wrong yet, but knowing he lifted the boy's spirits at least a little had made his day infinitely better.