Life is pain. That's all there is to me anymore. Even sleep is not an escape from the agony of my life. I'm not sure how long I have been here as there aren't any clocks or calendars. The only way I have to differentiate between days is the little morning ritual my guards have. The one that's oh so very much fun. Where they drag me out of the cramped cell, beat me in the hall, and then drag me to my torture chamber.
In the moments on our way to the chamber is not so bad. Yes, I'm usually bleeding and in pain, but when am I not anymore? It gives me a chance to see the outside world. Well, as much as I can see through the cramped open window at the end of the hall. Most of the time it's just empty sky, but once I saw a cloud, that was kinda nice.
The sound of the iron bolt sliding across the door pulls me back to the present. My body pulls itself deeper into my cell in an attempt to hide on instinct, not that it will do much good for me. The cell is barely four feet wide and five feet long. There is almost enough room for me to sit upright, almost. The few times I've tried I've ended up hunched over with my shoulders scraping the ceiling.
"No!" I try to kick the hands that reach into the cell, but it does no good. Heavy boots slam into my side, driving the air from my lungs. Iron shackles clamp onto my wrist as I'm continually assaulted by boots and clubs.
Should have known not to fight back. It never does any good. The gatekeeper lifts my chin to look into his eyes. His rotten breath makes my stomach churn and I have to fight back to keep from vomiting.
"You think youse tough." He spits in my face, causing me to flinch. "Youse ain't so tough. Yourse all crack here ventually." I try to keep my expression neutral. Any anger that shows on my face will just lead to more pain. Apparently, I don't do well enough as the gatekeeper's fist slams into my face. I feel woozy as I'm dragged down the narrow hallway. The moans and whimpers of pain from the other cells is almost a whitnoise for me at this point.
Huh, that cloud looks like a bird. Before I can see anything else from the window, I'm thrown into my torture chamber. I call it mine because in all the time I've been here, I haven't seen anyone else taken into it.
The gatekeeper and his helper slam me into the wooden chair that's bolted to the stone floor. I try to slam my head into the smaller one as he straps my left arm to the chair. Just like yesterday and the day before I miss. As much as I try to fight back, it never does any good.
"Always trying me!" A fist crashes into my teeth again. The assistant smirks as blood leaks from my open mouth onto my chest. "You gonna learn one day. Gonna learn to talk the truth before you die. Or you is going to die right here in this room one day."
"Fucking learn some grammer, you prick!" The assistant slams his closed fist down on the back of my hand making me scream.
"You think I can't speak good? 'Least I'm not strapped to a fucking chair about to lose my teeth!" Someone snaps their fingers from the door which makes the gatekeeper and his assistants flinch.
"Gentlemen, I think it's time to let me and Mister Clint speak now." I feel my back stiffen as I try to pull back further into the room. The gatekeeper and his assistants shudder as they pile out of the room. When they clear the door, the man from the hall steps in. I don't know his name as he always said it wasn't important to our relationship.
He is fairly tall and almost wire thin with thinning black hair and close set brown eyes. When he steps into the room, the door closes behind him on its own. A wave of his hand causes a pillar of stone to rise up beside the chair. A low clank echoes through the enclosed room as he sets a small black bag on it.
"Now where were we Clint? Ah yes, where you are from and your teeth. Wasn't it?" I shudder as he opens the top of the bag, pulling away as far as I can.
I want to scream, to plead for him not to hurt me. I know it won't do any good, though. It never does any good. In all of our sessions, as he calls them, it doesn't matter what I say. When I tell the truth, he says I'm lying. When he says I'm lying, he hurts me.
"Now, I think you will like this." A pair of wicked looking pliers gleam in the light. The teeth of the pliers are twisted, looking more like drill bits than teeth. "You see, these drill into whatever they are clamped onto. That way there is no possible way for them to slip." He smiles down at me with his perfect shining teeth. "I've heard that it's quite painful, but I must admit, I've never felt a thing."
"Please." He smiles down at me as he pushes my head back. The angle forces my mouth open as my neck screams in pain.
"Now, now. You know all you have to do to make this stop is tell me what I want to know." The feeling when the bits of the pliers hit my teeth is unlike anything I've felt before. The smell of burnt bone and blood assaults my nose as the man smiles down at me.
"Last chance." His smile is the worst part of the ordeal. The pain I can deal with. I have been dealing with it this whole time. The sadistic smirk as he rips the tooth from my head only gets wider as I scream. The tooth falls to the ground with a small click as the pliers open.
"One down, oh so many more to go." I don't know how long I'm in the chamber with him. Time doesn't mean much when pieces of you are being pulled off. By the time he stops, my world of pain is only expanded. My teeth are a distant memory along with my fingernails and several large pieces of my skin.
"I'm sorry to say I have to go now, Clint. Don't be afraid. I'll see you tomorrow too. I would hate to deprive you of our little chats." He slaps my cheek gently which causes me to whimper. He smirks as his hand connects to the patch of cheek that has been flayed.
"Gatekeeper! I'm done for the day." As the door swings open, the man and his bag disappear through it. I'm barely conscious as I'm unbound from the chair. It's all I can do to look up as I'm dragged through the hall again.
No cloud now, but the sun is setting. It's such a pretty shade of purple. When I'm thrown into my cell, all I can do is whimper. The soiled, stinking straw burns on my open wounds. I force myself to prop my body up against the wall. Blood dribbles out of my stolen lips, soaking into the front of my tattered shirt.
Need to stay upright so I don't drown in my own blood. My head bobs as I feel my consciousness start to slip. Nope, need to stay awake right now. I lift my ruined right fingertip to the wall, making a small mark on the stone. Of course, it won't do much good in the long run. After a few days, the bugs and rats in the dungeon will end up scraping the dried blood off. That doesn't even count what happens to me when I fall asleep.
Three marks, Seamus should be coming today. Every three days, like clockwork, Seamus shows up. That means tomorrow the session will be worse, but at least today I can sleep without pain. The door latch creaks again as the door is pulled open.
Speak of the devil. Seamus peeks around the edge of the door. Like a little kid checking the room for an angry parent.
"Well, come on in! Not like I can stop you." He flinched at my words, but quietly steps into the cell, crouching to keep from touching the low ceiling. "Don't suppose you have a smoke, do you?" Seamus shakes his head as he kneels on the soiled straw beside me.
"They really worked you over this time, didn't they?" I shrug my shoulders as I lean my head back against the wall. I'm damn near laying down, so I have to crank my neck up to look at Seamus.
"What can I say. If I tell the truth, they pull my teeth. However, if I lie, then they rip out my fingernails. So what's a man to do?" Seamus looks back at the cell door that creaks as it slowly shuts. Outside of the cell there is a quiet shuffling as the gatekeeper walks away.
That's a new one. When I look up to Seamus, he shakes his head and puts a finger up to his lips. Ah, quiet time.
Seamus starts the normal chanting that I've gotten used to. A warm glow spreads over me as my wounds close before my eyes. There is a twinge of pain as my teeth grow back, but it passes fairly quickly. When he finishes, Seamus crawls over to the door, peeking around it again.
"Here, I brought you something special." Seamus reaches into the folds of his robe and pulls out a loaf of black bread and a water skin. My mouth waters at the sight of the bread in Seamus's hand. Seamus hands the loaf to me and I tear into it like a wild animal.
After the first couple of bites, the taste of blood from my mouth is swallowed, along with the hard bread. The skin doesn't hold water, but some kind of fruit juice. It's a big step up from the moldy bread and muddy water I've been living off so far.
"So you're bringing me food. That means you're about to help me escape?" Seamus shakes his head as he settles down on the floor.
"No, I can't do that. I do believe your story, but I can't do anything to help you." I pause in my chewing and look up at him. His eyes have dark bags under them and he looks like he hasn't been sleeping well. The growth of stubble on his chin is weird and seems out of place on him.
"If you believe me, then why haven't you told anyone yet?" Seamus winces and takes a drink from the skin laying between us.
"I've tried, but no one listens to a slave." I pause in my eating again, the mouth of the skin pressed against my lips. After I take another swallow, I wipe my lips with the back of my hand.
"You're a slave?" Seamus nods his head as I finish off the last of the bread. My stomach feels uncomfortably tight and I know that it was too much for me to eat at once. It's not like I've been eating very much so my stomach has shrunk quite a bit.
"I was purchased by the Baron three and a half years ago." His chest seems to puff out slightly when he says that. At my confused look, he starts to explain.
"Healers are rare in this world. It's said only one in every five hundred mages can use healing magic. So if one is unlucky enough to be sold as a slave, they go for unbelievable sums. Especially if they can use higher ranked healing spells like I can." I shake my head as I force down another mouthful of the juice in the skin. I really don't want it, but Seamus will have to take it with him and I don't want to waste any.
"You're still a slave." When I offer him the skin, he accepts it and takes a quick drink.
"Yes, but when a healer is sold to nobility there is a limit on their contract. That doesn't count for criminal slaves or war slaves, of course. I'm a debt slave, so after four years of serving the Baron, I'll go free." His face screws up like he just bit into something sour. "Unless I piss off the Baron or one of the other nobles that is."
"Piss them off like giving a prisoner food and fruit juice?" Seamus looks to the cell door again before he shrugs his shoulders.
"Possibly, but I couldn't just stand by and keep healing you. Not without trying to help you at least once." I take the offered drink again and finish it off. I wish I could get some more of whatever this is. Between the sweetness and the warmth flowing through my limbs, I'm feeling pretty good.
"So why do you believe me when no one else does?" Seamus seems to think about it for a second before he speaks.
"What do you know about what was going on when we found you?" I shrug my shoulders as I shift on the straw bedding. I've pieced together some of it from my torturers questions. It was some kind of ritual to summon multiple demons that were supposed to attack the kingdom of Varesh. More specifically they were supposed to cause problems for the Nivien Barony.
"Something about summoning demons to cause problems. Not sure how I got here or what I had to do with anything." Seamus nods his head as he leans his head back.
"To explain it better, I need to explain about summoners. They mostly fall in one of two categories. One uses their own mana to temporarily summon monsters or spirits to fight for them. The second uses sacrifices to permanently summon some kind of being to serve them. Usually it's a familiar, or a low level monster paid for by an animal's sacrifice." He pauses and seems to be collecting his thoughts. When the silence stretches on, I clear my throat which makes him jump.
"Right, sorry. Anyway, if you offer a big enough sacrifice, you can actually draw in more powerful beings. If you use a human sacrifice…." He pauses again and seems to be searching for the right words.
"You end up summoning a demon?" He winces at my words, but nods his head.
"Yes, and the stronger the sacrifice, the stronger the demon. Just to be clear, I mean stronger as in the size of a person's mana pool, not physical strength." He shifts his seat looking uncomfortable.
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"Part of the reason I believe you is that no other demons have been found. There was only the one that was found was the one who climbed out of the summoner." I tilt my head up at Seamus, his words spinning in my head.
"What do you mean? I thought they summoned a bunch of them. What happened to the rest of them?" Seamus glances back to the door before leaning in close to me. His voice comes out as barely a whisper. It's almost as if he is afraid of someone besides me hearing his next words.
"The Baron is convinced that they were funneled out of the kingdom. That more of the group was waiting to pull them away and hide them as they grow stronger. I don't think that's the case and it's why I believe you." He swallows with a loud gulp.
"There is a story of a forgotten, a banned ritual for a summoner. One that requires an unfathomable cost to complete. It's said that it has the power to split open the seams of the world's barriers and pull someone through. The risk is that there is a real possibility of permanently tearing the barrier. That's the reason it was banned and purposefully lost to time." Seamus leans back, breathing deeply as I close my eyes.
So that's how I ended up here. My mind is running a mile a minute with all this new information. Something Seamus said keeps circling back to the front of my mind.
"What does how I got here have to do with not finding any other demons?" Seamus stares at me for a long second. He's giving me a look like I should be able to figure it out.
"The other bodies. I think they were sacrifices to summon you. That's why there were five other dead and no demons found." I shake my head because it doesn't make sense to me.
"But why me? I'm nothing special." Seamus snorts as he shakes his head.
"I'm sorry. I knew you wouldn't understand. If they had managed to use you for a sacrifice, it would have been a national level catastrophe. With the mana pool you have, they surely would have managed to summon an Archdemon." My face must be showing my confusion because he continues in a quiet voice.
"When a person is summoned from another world, they are dragged through the cosmic energies. It's an impossibility for you not to be powerful and full of magical energy." My hand comes up in front of my face, the fingers flexing slowly in the light.
"So if I have all this energy, why don't I feel any different?" Seamus taps the walls of the cell.
"This cell is made to hold mages and spiritualist. The walls are made of a rare material called mage stone. I don't know much about it, but it drains a mage's mana. It also interrupts a person's ability to communicate with spirits." I glance at the walls as he speaks. Aside from the strange pattern, they don't seem like anything special to me. However, I don't have any reason to doubt Seamus. As bad as it sounds, he is the closest thing I have to a friend here.
"So what would have happened if they had summoned an Archdemon?" Seamus shudders as he leans back against the wall.
"Varesh would have fallen, along with most of the other kingdoms." When I tilt my head Seamus explains it to me, still using his hushed tones.
The basics is that an Archdemon is not something that can be handled by most kingdoms. He described it as a giant figure, winged and horned. It's capable of summoning legions of lesser demons with a wave of its hand. The last time one was in this world, it wiped out over two thirds of the population before it was stopped. Even then it was only possible by using the combined armies of every kingdom still standing. Hundreds of thousands of soldiers and conscripts marched to their death in waves.
"Damn, good thing that didn't happen, I guess." Seamus nods his head as he checks the door again. I have dozens of questions running through my head at this point. Before I can figure out where to start, there is a low clank from the hall.
"Time to go, Seamus, I can't cover for you anymore." The gatekeeper's voice is low. I doubt anyone outside the cell can hear him. Seamus starts to scramble out of the cell, but pauses at the door.
"Sorry I couldn't help you more." I wave him off as I shake my head.
"Don't worry about it. I'll see you in a few days." I try to smile, but inside, I'm starting to feel sick. Seamus smiles back at me and I see his lips move, mouthing words to me.
If I read that right, he said maybe, maybe not. What the hell does that mean? I can't worry about that right now. As soon as the cell door closes, I shift on the soiled bedding. My fingers run through it until something brushes my fingers.
When I was first brought here, my meals came on an earthen-ware plate. My second day, I flung it at the door to my cell. Of course, that just led to another beating for me. After the gatekeeper stopped laughing, he swept most of the mess into the hall with his boot. On the next day, the rest of the mess was gone. All except the piece I stole and hid inside my boot the night before.
Ah, the good old days when I still had boots. The fat assistant stole them after the first week. If I ever get the chance, I'm going to make him pay for that one. I put those thoughts aside as I start my evening routine.
What was once just a broken piece of a plate is now something else. The dull jagged edge has been ground down against the cell floor over countless days. It's a far cry from what I would call a proper weapon, but, my grandpa told me this once while we were fishing.
"You can kill a man with a pop tab if you have to. If it comes down to them or you, make sure you chose you." I test the tip of the shard against my palm. A grin tugs at the corner of my mouth as a single bead of blood wells up from the skin.
Not a pop tab, but it will do. When I tuck it into my closed fist, the rounded bottom rests on my palm. A little bit more than a half inch of sharpened tip is sitting above my knuckles. That's as good as it's going to get. Better off getting some sleep for now. I tuck the makeshift shiv into the waist of my jeans. Then roll over to try and sleep. I have to adjust myself once as the tip sticks me, but luckily, it didn't cut me too bad. One way or another, tomorrow is not going to be like today.
It feels like I've only been asleep a few minutes when the loud banging wakes me up. I shake my head as I scramble to the back of my cell. I'm not sure what's going on, but it is definitely out of the ordinary. It sounds like the cells beside mine are being opened one at a time. The sound of flesh being struck and people groaning in pain reaches my ears.
What the fuck is this shit!? The door to my cell opens up and the gatekeeper sticks his head inside.
"I'll make you a deal. You climb out of the cell on your own, and we won't try and rupture your kidneys today." He steps back and arches his eyebrow at me.
What the hell? Let's see what's going on. When I climb out of the cell, the gatekeeper motions to a line of prisoners. As I fall in line behind the closest man, one of the assistants closes a set of iron manicures on my wrist. The chain on them is running to another chain that stretches up the line of people ahead of me.
This is new. As another person is shackled in beside me, I hear the assistants talking.
"We sure we is supposed to bring him too?" He sounds confused and a little worried at the same time.
"You heard the orders; clear the dungeon. He is in the dungeon, ain't he?" My head snaps forward as a heavy hand slaps the back of my head. "Besides, if he ain't broke by now, he ain't gonna. At least this way he can help keep our pay comin steady." I clamp my mouth shut to keep from asking questions. I know from experience all that leads to is a beating.
Not long after that the line ahead of me starts moving forward. Not seeing a better option, I follow along meekly. My hand traces over the shiv in my waistline as we walk slowly.
Chains are bad. If they cut them loose, I need to look for an opening. If I see it, take it. Don't know if it will appear again. I try and keep track of where we are, but after the first ten turns, I give up. If I knew the castle layout, maybe it would help. As it stands now, I can't even tell if we are close to the outer wall.
As we round the next corner, I see a familiar face. Seamus is standing at the next doorway, healing people as they pass. When I get next to him, he pauses and leans in close.
"It's not any better, but it's a chance. I hope you get away." I'm opening my mouth to ask him what he is talking about when I'm roughly shoved forward.
"No stallin'! Keep the line movin'!" I bite back a curse as I stumble forward.
Stay calm. It's not the time to make a move. The line moves slowly into what looks like a stable. There is about forty of us standing around the perimeter of the room. As I look around, I notice most of the people chained to me have animal ears or tails sticking out of disheveled clothes.
Huh, beastkin exists in this world? I wonder if elves do too. I'm trying to just roll with what's going on. If I think about it too hard, my mind will shut down. So it's best to just keep moving forward.
Hold up, when did they get here? Three men are slowly making their way around the room. Well, two men and a young boy carrying a ledger almost as big as he is. The two men stop in front of each of the people chained around the room and talk for a moment. After they seem to come to an agreement, they move on to the next. As soon as they both nod their head and shake hands, the boy makes a note in the ledger. As they get closer, I can just make out some of their conversation.
"Another one that you can almost see through. What? Do you just not feed them here or something?" The man that's closer shakes his head as he rubs the back of his neck.
"Cut me a break. I just sell the fuckers. I'm not the one that's responsible for them while they are in the dungeon. Besides, we are giving you plenty of food to go with them. It's not like you won't have time to pack the weight back on them. Now this one, he should be a good candidate for the mines. He's strong as an ox, and a hell of a worker." He slaps the man they are standing in front of who doesn't even flinch at the heavy blow.
I feel my stomach flip as I realize what is going on. I might not know everything about this word, but I know slavery exists now. I try to stay calm as the two men continue to negotiate back and forth for each person as they slowly move around the room. When they get to me, the one I assume is the buyer pauses.
"Now this one is interesting. How deep does his mana pool go?" The seller looks at me for a second before shrugging.
"Honestly, I don't know. He is a criminal slave so I haven't had to deal with him much. You are welcome to test him, but as far as I know, he is untrained. At least I haven't heard anything about him trying to use magic while he has been here." The buyer nods his head as he steps closer to me. I feel my hands curl and open slowly as I force myself to hold still.
You're still chained. Don't move. There will be a chance, but this ain't it. The man presses his hand against my forehead and closes his eyes. I don't know what he is doing so I try to hold still. While I'm waiting, I imagine grabbing the man's arm and pinning it behind his back. When I would have him gripped tightly, I'd drive the shiv into his throat. Then take the decorative dagger from his waist and open the femoral artery on the other man.
Nope, wait. You are still in chains, dumbass. The buyer blinks as he stumbles backwards. He pauses for a split second before he starts to speak in a hurried tone.
"I'll pay eight gold coins for him." The other man immediately replies.
"I need at least fifteen." The way he said it made me think he spoke on instinct. He seems to wince as the buyer starts the haggling process. The two go back and forth for a few seconds, finally settling on ten gold and five silver. Not that it means very much to me. Which reminds me I need to figure the currency of this world out.
"Quick, go fetch a collar!" The buyer turns to the boy and snatches the ledger from his hands. The boy takes off at a run, leaving the room as the other man starts to complain.
"You know the law. You can't put a slave collar on inside the kingdom." The buyer marks the ledger before turning to the other man.
"I'm not putting a slave collar on him. I'm putting a sealing collar on him. Mainly because I want to make it to the border with him in my possession. The only thing I can think of is you had him in one hell of a cell. Otherwise he would have escaped a long time ago." The man I can only think of as the seller looks at me for a second as the buyer starts to walk off.
"Is he really that strong?" The buyer smiles as he nods his head.
"It's why I started at eight gold coins. I knew you would automatically try for fifteen instead of thirty." The seller starts to curse as they begin negotiating for the rest of the line of people behind me. By the time they are done, the boy has returned. He is carrying a leather collar with some kind of inlaid pattern on it.
I briefly consider trying to escape before they put the collar on. In the end, I stand still as it is fastened snugly, but not tightly around my neck. After that, the buyer hands over several small bags of coins to the seller. Then we are marched outside and into the bright light of day.
When the light hits my eyes, I nearly stumble and fall. It's been so long since I was outside it's hurting my eyes. The little bit of a view from the window I passed each day must not have been enough to keep me used to the sun. Several people in line with me grumble as we are loaded into three wagons. I ignore them as I keep my eyes open and take in everything I can.
Each wagon holds fifteen people, all of them sitting shoulder to shoulder. From what I can tell, there are other wagons at the edge of the courtyard. Those seem to be filled with either food supplies, or women. All of the occupants of the three wagons we were loaded into are men. The chain that binds our manticles is secured to an eyebolt in the center of the wagon.
I give the men sitting on the front bench a long look as they settle into position. One is facing forwards to handle the team, while the other two are facing me and the other occupants of the wagon. They don't seem to be very impressive to me, but they are keeping a close watch.
Probably just while we are in town. I bet they relax a lot when they get out of sight of crowds. This may be bad, but it's better than where I was. All I need to do is wait for an opportunity to show itself eventually. I bring my hands up to tug at the collar around my neck. I'm trying to adjust it so it doesn't rub against a tender spot on my neck. When I do, one of the guards stands and moves to stand in front of me.
"Don't touch your collar again!" To make sure I understand, he hits me with an armored fist. As I fall to the floor of the wagon, I barely catch myself with my hands. The guard moves back to his seat and begins chatting with the other quietly. When I look up at them, they are watching the wagon closely, still talking quietly as they do.
I'll remember that, fucker! If get a chance, I'll get you back. Just you wait and see. Neither of the men beside me make a move to help me back into my seat. As my eyes meet theirs, I see hopelessness etched into their faces. They may have given up, but I can't.
As I settle back into my seat, I feel a poke in my side. The shiv I made is still there, tucked away safely. The seller man said something about food to the buyer. With a little luck, I can gain some of the strength I lost in that cell. I have a weapon, and time to plan. I'm going to get away, and then I'll decide if I'm coming back here or not.
Just fucking wait, you won't keep me in chains. I lean over the side of the wagon to spit. The bright crimson of fresh blood stands out against the pale stones of the courtyard. Not seeing anything else I can do, I lean back and close my eyes to wait. It doesn't take long for the wagons to start to move. When they do, I open my eyes slowly. I do my best to take in every detail of the caravan when it starts to move. Information is key. I need to find out everything I can if I'm going to escape.
The man to my right starts to cry as we pass through a large gate. On the other side is an open road and acres of farmland. I shake my head as the man's tears turn into loud sobs.
Crying ain't going to help, so shut the fuck up! He doesn't shut up though, not until one of the guards hits him. Even then his crying doesn't stop. He just gets quieter. The same guard that hit me, hit him. Maybe a temper problem, maybe the other is lazy. I'll have to keep an eye on that. I also need to figure out where we are going and how long it takes to get there. I need an idea of a timeline of how long I have to escape.
I feel a grin pull at the corner of my lips as the city's gate closes behind the last wagon. One way or the other I'm out of that hellhole.