Robert screamed and gasped from pain as the torturer stabbed another pin under one of his nails. He struggled to breathe but found it difficult to funnel air through his broken nose and blood-filled mouth.
“Shush,” the Dae said, taking a white cloth and dabbing at the blood that smeared his ruined face. “We have learned much from you, my little demon. Just a bit more. We are almost there.”
Robert’s mind was in a shambles. He had lost track of time and buried his thoughts of home and loved ones behind a wall of despair. It had been what seemed an endless amount of time of the same routine; strapped to a stone slab in bonds of sand, every morning, the torturer known only as Gurt, would come into his cell, talk to him for a time about how he slept and how his dinner was. Then, in mid-conversation, he would casually begin to apply his terrible skill. The torturer was a Dae-Voh, and would create small pins of sand that would penetrate his skin and change size and shape while within. Large portions of skin were peeled off as well, using a similar method of manipulating sand. Regular beatings and questioning were sprinkled in between, and the fragile sanity he had held onto after waking up was all but shattered. He confessed to all they accused him of. Everything from plotting to destroy the Dae in collusion with dark spirits; to feeding on the flesh of their children. It didn’t matter anymore to him. The first two days, he resisted, trying to muster his strength and break free. He screamed at first, telling them that he wasn’t a demon, just lost. But the pain was too much, and it took its toll on him; it broke him down, and now he just wanted to die. Why won’t they let me die? he often wondered to himself in the long hours of the night, weeping as his wounds burned and ached in agony.
“The Espi-Dae is coming today, isn’t that wonderful?” Gurt said, manipulating another pin of sand into his flesh. “I hope he lets you stay here a bit longer; I have enjoyed you the most, I think. More than anyone in a long time. I think it’s your blood... your blood looks so interesting.” He touched his fingers to Robert’s bloody hand and began to rub the blood between his fingers.
Robert endured another several hours of the torture, rasping with pain as his tired body was stabbed, cut, burned, and beaten yet again until finally he heard the sound of boots echoing in the halls. Robert hoped it was the end for him; he silently prayed for it. While at home, he was a progressive student and believed in scientific innovation and social justice; here, under the knife of torture, in a world that could not be explained, with spirits and monsters, all he knew was that he knew nothing at all. That there were larger powers in the universe than the insignificant human being he was. He had never prayed as an adult, but recalling his childhood Sunday School classes, he prayed to whatever may be above to release him from this constant torment.
The door opened, and Espi-Arl walked in with his entourage of holy men and several guards. Robert’s eyes were swollen from the beatings, only his left eye still seemed to open now, but he saw that Demessa had made her appearance finally. She had warned him of this, telling him that they would pick him apart. They did, and now she had come to see the result. There was a moment while the visitors processed the sight before them. Many seemed disgusted at the gruesome scene, Demessa included. The scent of death and defecation was overwhelming. She flared her nose at the smell of it all and turned away after making brief eye contact with Robert.
“Good work, Gurt,” Espi-Arl said, stepping closer to see the details of his performance. “Its blood is… red. Do we know why yet?”
“No, my Lord, I do not yet know why. If I had more time, I could—” Gurt was cut off by Demessa as she stepped forward.
“The King has demanded that he be purified immediately. We are here to bring him to the temple,” she said.
Relief flowed over Robert. The thought of an end to this living hell was more than he could bear. He smiled a broken smile, and tears again began to well in his eyes.
“The King does not command me,” the Espi-Dae said defiantly. “I serve the High Espi-Dae, who advises the High King and answers to the Spirits themselves. You can tell Alektor that I will do what I deem most appropriate with this creature.”
Demessa’s eyes flared at the insult to her King. “You should remember where you are. The Espi-Dae are not as widely appreciated here as in Torre’. Our King rose to power to end the foolish corruption of Dae like you, and we threw them into the pits to answer for their crimes. Do not disrespect him here, or you will find yourself in a similar position.” She paused for a moment, then nodded to the rest of the guards. “You have ten minutes to finish your work, Arl, then he comes with us to the temple of Dio’Mar.”
She turned and exited the cell with her guards, leaving the Espi-Dae and his followers alone with Robert.
The Dae fumed silently as he looked at Robert. “Finding a live specimen has been extremely difficult. Unfortunately, the Rexunii found him, and we are stuck here in this dung heap of a territory. These people have no class. All they want to do is kill each other.” The Espi surrounding him nodded in agreement. “We will let them kill each other all they want.” He looked at Robert again. “We will do what we must. Obey the orders of the King, but bring a piece for study. We need to get as much out of this as we can.”
“A piece, my Lord?” Gurt asked.
“Take his hand. We will leave the rest for the pit.”
Robert’s heart began to race again. He knew more pain was coming and struggled against his bonds.
Gurt raised his hand, and a blade of sand formed around it. With a rough grip, he lifted Robert’s right hand.
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“No!” Robert gurgled but was cut off by a sickening crunch and pop. Pain shot through his right arm. He screamed, but only a desperate wheeze came out.
Gurt held up the severed appendage with unrepentant indifference and admired his work. “A clean cut,” he said with a smile.
~
Robert was dragged from the cell and brought into the sunlight after what seemed like weeks of the dimly lit dungeon. He couldn’t feel the warmth as it hit his face; there was too much pain. He had been pondering how he could have survived for so long after the amount of trauma he had endured and the amount of blood that seemed to have seeped from his body. Nothing made sense anymore. Nothing worked as it should in this world, it seemed.
They brought him into a large temple located in the center of the city. With the familiar spiral towers erected as if grown from the ground, Robert could tell that this was a very important structure to the Rexunii. He finally entered a large room; it was filled with Dae from all levels of the Rexunii hierarchy. Gasps could be heard as they saw the bloodied mess of what was once a human being dragged by his arms.
“What is this?” Turak called, stepping from the crowd to the Warriors carrying Robert. “How did…?” His face was one of disbelief. That face turned to anger as he looked at Espi-Arl. “You have overstepped! You have ruined him.”
Arl seemed puzzled at the outburst. “What are you talking about? We conducted our experiments and questioning.”
“Dio’Mar is a spirit of Justice; she will see this and bring retribution to us,” Turak said, gritting his teeth.
Espi-Arl sighed. “The Spirits don’t work like that, Lord Turak; she is no longer here. How many of the criminal scum that you throw down there come crawling back up? None, they are judged by the creatures down there, not your spirit.”
King Alektor approached from behind Turak, his face also twisted in disgust. His eyes lingered on Robert, then shot to Arl. “Let’s just get this over with.”
“Since when do so many attend the casting ceremony?” Arl asked.
“It isn’t every day we cast a creature like this into the Pit of Mar. Many of our people wanted to see him. They are calling these creatures the Spirit-Sent in the North; many of our enslaved brethren in Lokkadonia are worshiping them. I’m still not quite sure what to make of it.” Alektor put his hand on Turak’s shoulder to calm him.
Espi-Arl smirked condescendingly, “It bleeds like any other creature. After this, your highness, you will see that there is nothing to be afraid of. Your spirit Dio’Mar will be at rest, and you will have what you want for your war with Lokkadonia.”
-
Turak took a deep breath and exhaled slowly as he now watched the ceremony take place. The Dae had been conflicted with his alliance with the Torre’ Espi-Dae. The High King ruled the other clan territories by commanding the money and trade. Torre’ had maintained dominion this way for hundreds of years, and every Moot that was held was now just a formality for the new ruler from that territory. Turak hated the Torre’ and the Espi-Dae leadership for their malfeasance and debasement, but they were not yet strong enough to free their people from their ancient rivals, the Lokkadonians. He shifted in his seat next to his King and longtime friend, Alektor. The Ruler looked conflicted as well by this grotesque display of cruelty by the Torre’ Espi, and though a generally practical ruler, Turak could see through his yellow eyes that he feared the wrath of Dio’Mar.
Robert’s flayed skin hung off of his body as they removed his clothes. Turak grimaced as he saw the human was in too much shock to scream at what was most certainly extremely painful.
“How does he still live?” Alektor asked, beside him. “I have never seen a creature endure such violence without the aid of the Dunamis. There must be something else.”
Turak didn’t answer; he was angry enough watching this.
“I know you are disappointed, my friend,” Alektor said quietly. “But we don’t have much of a choice. Our people endure far worse at the hands of the Lokkadonians, we must keep that in mind as we watch. Whether this creature is a demon or a savior sent by the Great Spirits themselves, his sacrifice will bring our people the freedom they have not tasted in hundreds of years.”
Turak swallowed hard as he watched them bring the wretched creature to the closed pit in the center of the room. Massive stone doors on the floor slid open to reveal a round opening into the dark nothing below. The room was filled with a horrid stench, and many of the attending Dae covered their faces.
Then they heard Espi-Arl speak.
“To the Great Spirits, we offer this creature of darkness, to bathe in your glorious light!”
Turak shook his head at the irony of the words. Arl was using the same passage they used to purify with fire, but seeing as how the human would be thrown into complete darkness, it took much of the meaning out of the holy man’s words. He would be thrown to be devoured by the Cugorii, vicious meat-eating monstrosities that plagued the Pits of Mar since they were first discovered a thousand years ago. Still, the monsters that lurked there weren’t the reason the Pit of Mar was so famous. It was the fact that any Dae, no matter how strong, could not use their Dunamis while in there. Many attempted to explore the caverns at first, but with the Cugorii attacking in the darkness and the lack of the Dunamis, many died horrible and violent deaths.
“May your many blessings rain upon us under the glorious protection of Belous, and it’s High King Phobos, of Torre’.”
Again Turak scoffed, earning a chastising glare from his King.
Espi-Arl finished the final words of his passage and turned toward Robert, who stood now wearing only a ceremonial robe and shaking uncontrollably due to his wounds, exhaustion, and fear. With a nod, two of his Espi walked to him and, with little resistance, threw him into the black void below.
Turak shook his head, noting that he didn’t hear a scream from the human. He must have been waiting for death, he thought.
After the ceremony was complete, and Espi-Arl finished his final words, they found their way outside, and Turak decided to walk on his own back to the palace. As he did, he reflected on his actions in the South, how he had come to tolerate the human for his travels. He pitied the thing. He had been torn apart by his captors and probably hadn’t been guilty of any of the vile things he confessed to.
“My Lord Turak!” he heard from a voice behind him. The Dae turned to meet the eyes of Demessa, who ran to him in a careful stride.
He nodded his head in acknowledgment of her arrival.
“My Lord, the King has requested that you join him at the northern towers.” She huffed, slightly out of breath. “He wishes to discuss the current military capabilities of Hego Agron’s forces. Apparently, he is positioning himself for war.”
Turak sighed, glancing at the sky above. “Back to business then, I suppose.” He looked darkly at Demessa. “You got what you wanted, the human ruined and cast into the Pit.”
Demessa reeled in surprise. “My Lord… I didn’t mean—”
“It doesn’t matter anymore, Alektor is probably correct in saying that Dio’Mar has left us. The Spirits are fickle things. I had always believed she was here, looking after us in some way.” He ran his fingers over the gruesome scar across his face. “Perhaps it was all just dumb luck.”