“Again.”
Abbee whimpered. No more. The pain in her chest had just subsided. She had no strength left to struggle against her bonds, or wrinkle her nose at the room’s stench. She’d long since loosened her bowels. She couldn’t even muster the energy to voice a simple “No.” All Abbee managed was an unintelligible groan. She had no idea how long she’d endured this torture. Could be hours. Maybe days. She’d lost track of time. Even worse, she’d lost track of the dead.
The ever-present, ever-blinding magical light hung in front of Abbee’s face. Glimmermote encrusted her wrists and surrounded her hands, thick as sand. She barely saw the far end of the table, but enough of it to make out a body slumped in a chair there. A woman. Her long hair spread down over her face. She wore a simple, threadbare dress. A rag had been stuffed in her mouth. It was soaked with bloody mucus.
The dark-clad man appeared out of shadow behind the dead woman. Abbee never saw any part of him. He moved with small steps, head cocked like a bird’s, and used his thighs, hips, and hands to find obstacles. Abbee had stopped begging him for help. He never responded. Never said a word.
The sightless man popped the buckle holding the dead woman in place. The leather strap slapped the table, and the corpse sank in the chair, as if exhausted. The man grabbed her by the scruff of the neck and dragged her off the table. Her body made a whump as it hit the floor. They both disappeared into the deep shadows on the other side of the windowless room. Abbee heard a heavy door clank open. Scraping sounds and footsteps. Saw a sliver of gray light outside. A hallway, maybe. A formless shadow passed over the threshold.
Abbee strained to see around the magical lamp’s glare, hoping against hope to see Ipsu come through that door. He’d admonish her for getting caught. He’d cluck at her inability to stop four movers from pinning her to the ground with their gift. Hassle her for letting them stake her there with her own knives. Berate her for doing nothing while they bound, hooded, and dragged her off the street. He’d offer to leave her there as punishment even while unbuckling the leather straps holding her arms. Tell her she deserved this fate while knocking loose the pins on the iron clamp squeezing her hips. He’d voice some pithy wisdom about her poor decision-making skills and free her from her torture. Maybe he’d have a little food. A scrap of bread to soothe the aching pit in her stomach. A drop of water for her parched tongue and throat. He’d come. He’d save her.
The door banged shut, swallowing the room in darkness.
The sightless man reappeared, pushing someone ahead of him. Sat them down on the empty chair across from Abbee. A boy. Young and dirty, with freckles and brown hair. He had a rag stuffed in his mouth and his arms tied behind his back. His nose found Abbee first, and he recoiled from the room’s stink. His gaze fell on her and crinkled in fear and confusion. The sightless man fixed the leather strap across the boy’s chest and cranked it tight. The boy struggled against his bonds and made unintelligible noises around his gag.
The sightless man rounded the table toward Abbee and went behind her. She felt tears of despair leak down her face. She tried straining against the straps and the iron clamp, but her strength was gone. The boy struggled harder than she did. Abbee knew she should be the one doing the most thrashing. She knew what was about to happen. All she could do was weep and whimper.
Abbee heard the thin, familiar scrape of metal on wood behind her. Felt a finger tap on her back. Another, counting vertebrae. Zeroing in. Finding the spot. The finger stopped.
Abbee looked at the boy. Met his eyes. Matched his fear, matched his terror. Tears clouded her vision as she croaked, “I’m sorry.”
The sightless man stabbed her in the back and pierced her heart. Glimmermote pushed aside the old, caked mote on her wrists and flaked off onto the table. The boy’s eyes bulged. Abbee felt her heart seize around the blade again. The sightless man withdrew the blade and left the room. She let the pain consume her, trying to keep her panic at bay. Trying to keep control. Trying to save that little boy.
It didn’t matter. When she came to again, the boy was slumped forward against his bonds. Shrunken and desiccated. He didn’t move. Dead, like the others. Dead, so Abbee might live.
The voice came from above, always above, beyond the lamp’s glare. His voice was burned into her mind now. She wondered if she even heard it anymore, or if it was a figment of her imagination. Always one word. She heard it before he even spoke. Knew what he’d say before he said it.
“Again.”
***
Abbee heard a thump somewhere. Maybe she felt it through her chair. She couldn’t tell. It was new. Different. An odd event in a constant stream of terror. She squinted against the magical lamp’s glare and realized the door was open. A shape appeared in it. Someone stalked across the room and tilted the lamp out of Abbee’s face.
Light spilled across the room. Abbee saw Ipsu. She let out a cry of anguish and hope.
His face was horrified. Abbee wondered what she looked like for him to look at her like that. Ipsu was unflappable. He reached down and untied her. He was close, and the air smelled like him, and Abbee hoped beyond hope that this was real. She looked around the room. It had a low ceiling and rough-cut stone walls. No windows and only a single door. The voice ordering her torture had sounded like it had come from above, but there wasn’t any room up there for anyone. No grate or anything. She didn’t understand where the voice had come from. Maybe she’d imagined it.
Abbee’s muscles were stiff from sitting in one position for so long. Starving and weak, she tried to move and found that she couldn’t. Ipsu pulled her off the chair. Abbee’s legs didn’t work, and she fell. Ipsu did his best with his one arm, but she slipped from his grip and hit the floor. Her cut coat and shirt slipped off her. Her clothes were in tatters, covered with her blood and filth. She didn’t have the energy to cover herself as Ipsu got her upright.
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He shouldered out of his coat and put it on her. It felt strange to be dressed by someone else. The last person to do that had been Abbee’s mother. Abbee had a hard time remembering what she looked like. Losing the memory of her mother’s face bothered her even more than being trapped and tortured in this basement. Ipsu’s coat smelled like him and made Abbee feel safe. He managed to pull her upright. Her legs didn’t want to work but slowly remembered.
Abbee held on to Ipsu’s arm, and he helped her from the room. The hallway outside was short. Dead end to the right. Ipsu turned left and led her into a big room with a staircase at the other end. Heading up. A single torch burned in a sconce near the stairs, throwing shadows across the room.
On the way out, Abbee saw a stack of logs against the wall. She couldn’t figure out why there was a stack of logs in a basement. Dozens of them. Something sticking out. A stick. No, that’s a hand. Shriveled and withered. Abbee realized the logs weren’t logs. She saw a bracelet. Remembered it. Remembered seeing a bracelet just like it on a little girl. Remembered the girl’s terrified eyes around the glare of a bright magical light. Abbee collapsed in anguish and self-loathing. She had killed that little girl. She had killed all these people.
“Up,” Ipsu said.
Anger burned away the sorrow. Up was the first thing he’d said to her since finding her. Not You’re okay or I’m happy you’re alive. Just Up.
Abbee struggled to stand. She saw a lump on the floor at the foot of the staircase. Dark clothing. The sightless man. His arm was bent at a strange angle. He wasn’t moving, and a pool of dark liquid slowly crept out around his head.
Ipsu guided her around the body and half carried, half dragged her up the stairs. Three turns, and Abbee saw a doorway. They emerged from the basement into open air. It smelled like the sea. Smelled incredible. Smelled like freedom. It was night. The moon was out. Abbee heard crashing waves. They were on the edge of the city. Near the beach.
Ipsu guided Abbee away from Joor. She fell several times. They eventually reached the trees. Walked some more until they came to a stream. Ipsu set her down near the rushing water. Abbee didn’t let go of him. Ipsu disentangled himself from her in a slow but firm manner. He left her there and gathered sticks to build a fire.
Abbee sat there and watched the flames. Stared at the fire and forgot about where she was and who she was. She’d lost track of time when Ipsu came to her again. He reached down and gripped the coat around her. Abbee shied away from his touch. Ipsu tried to pull the coat away. Abbee tugged it back around her.
“You need to get clean,” Ipsu said.
Abbee wanted to be clean, but she didn’t want anyone to touch her. She was still weak and needed help. Ipsu helped her out of her ruined clothes even as she argued her resentment with weaker and weaker shoves. He half pulled, half pushed her into the stream. The water was freezing. Ipsu gently bathed her. Gentler than he’d ever been. Abbee still flinched away from his touch. It took a few minutes, but she eventually let him wash her.
About halfway through, Abbee remembered the light. Remembered the bindings. The frightened face of a little girl. Abbee shook her head against the memory. It wouldn’t go away. She started crying. She hated crying in front of Ipsu. Hated feeling weak. She couldn’t stop. Ipsu paused and hugged her. It was the first time he’d ever done that. Ever. Abbee clutched him and sobbed. She focused on his shirt. Focused on the linen, on the individual threads. Anything to keep her from the basement in her mind.
Ipsu finished and helped Abbee out of the stream. She was numb from the cold, and the fire felt good. Ipsu wrapped her in his coat, and she lay down right next to the flames. Ipsu made her back up a little to avoid burning herself. He went out into the night and gathered up more sticks and bigger branches. Built up a big fire.
“I’m going back to the city,” Ipsu said.
Abbee shook her head.
“You need new clothes.”
Abbee shook her head again. She tried to speak, but no words came. They lodged in her chest and became stuck there. She mouthed, “No.”
“You’re safe here.”
Abbee cried at the idea of him leaving her. She begged him with her sobs. He left anyway.
Abbee huddled under his coat next to the roaring fire. She tried to ignore the shadows all around her. She was warm, yet she shivered. So tired. Abbee tried to stay awake, but exhaustion smothered her into oblivion.
***
She woke up with a start. Felt fear ripple through her limbs. She couldn’t remember what she’d dreamed about, and it took her a moment to remember where she was. The clearing. The fire burned low. Ipsu knelt on the other side, poking it with a stick. A stack of clothes and new boots sat on the ground next to her. A new pack. Two knives. Abbee saw burnt scraps of her trousers in the fire. Everything she’d had was gone.
Ipsu reached into a sack and pulled out a hunk of bread. He handed it to her. Abbee snatched it and buried her face in it. She tore it with her fingers and crammed it into her mouth.
“Slow,” Ipsu said.
Abbee ignored him. It was plain bread but the first thing she’d eaten in … she didn’t know how long. She wanted to ask how long. She opened her mouth to ask. The words didn’t come.
No words came.
***
They stayed in that camp while Abbee slowly regained enough strength to walk. She didn’t speak. She communicated with gestures. Every time she tried to talk, the words froze in her chest. After a few tries, she gave up.
On the second day, they broke camp, and Ipsu led her north. Abbee followed along in a detached stupor. She navigated the forest easily enough, but all attempts to engage her in conversation failed. Abbee retreated inward and let her body do the walking.
No words came.
***
The days stretched into weeks. Abbee’s body regained its strength. Ipsu led her on long runs, and she kept up without trouble. They passed villages. Some they visited, but most they avoided. They avoided train towns. Their trek intersected the continental roads twice. Ipsu never mentioned where he was headed, and Abbee didn’t ask, but she knew they were heading north.
There were no chase days. No sparring. Abbee got the impression that Ipsu didn’t know what to do with her. He stopped speaking altogether, and the silence stretched between them.
***
They crested a low hill, and Abbee saw the escarpment. It was still a few hours away, but the cliff ran across the entire continent, from ocean to ocean, and was visible for tens of kilometers. Abbee saw the Charrin River snaking north and the High Falls from here. Akken lay in its shadow. She made out buildings atop the escarpment. She should’ve seen the Tower from here, but that had been gone for a long time. Destroyed the night of the golems, and nobody had rebuilt it. Abbee wondered what she and Ipsu were doing here, but she didn’t ask.
***
They stayed on the hilltop for three days. On the third day, Abbee went down to the river to wash. On her way back, she was about fifty meters from their camp, deep in the trees, when she heard Ipsu talking to someone. Shouting. Ipsu sounded angry. No, this was something else. Abbee had heard him shout, and angrily, but not like this. He sounded furious.
“… never said it would involve torture!” Ipsu roared. “You said she’d be tested. I never agreed to … whatever it was you were doing. Madness!”
“You never asked,” the voice said. “You just asked me to take care of Lencoe, remember?”
Abbee froze. She knew that voice. She’d only ever heard it utter one word, but she’d never forget the tone. The timbre.
Again.